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Breathe

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Today was another good day. I think I have resigned myself to the loss of our home. No more crying about what I can’t change. Not that the day I hand over the keys won’t be a difficult one, but I also know that it will be the first day in months that I can breathe. This home I once lavished so much love on has become an insurmountable burden. We can’t move forward or figure out our future until it is gone.

Before I begin to write about today I wanted to write about Sunday. It was a wonderful day and deserves to be remembered. Sunday’s day of rest turned into a very long day, something we hadn’t counted on. Our friend’s flight was delayed, and delayed, and delayed, she didn’t arrive in San Diego until after midnight. I felt for her, it was an incredibly long day of traveling. As for Dan and I, the picnic was wonderful and long overdue. Good food, good wine, and an incredible sunset. Who says my life is bad? (I know… mostly me) For awhile we managed to forget about the not so great stuff in our life and focus on the moment and each other. Then when we realized that we had four hours to kill before the flight came in, we decided to splurge and go to a movie, Begin Again. A very appropriate title for us. It was also another enjoyable two hours that took our minds off our troubles.

I need to step back a day. I had an epiphany of sorts on Saturday. We were at the check out in the grocery store, I glanced over to the register next to us and saw a young family. That’s when it hit me, how much worse this could be. I realize we aren’t the only people in the world going through this, I’ve known that all along of course, but what happened on Saturday was the realization of how much worse this would be if I had kids to feed. I looked at this young couple and their kids and thought about what it would be like for them. This is a nightmare, no doubt, but it is just us, the two of us. There are no little stomachs going to bed empty. It makes you think.

Today… A really good day, another day when I’ve felt really happy for the first time in weeks. I mentioned that I was gathering art supplies for a local foster home. As I sorted through art supplies left over from my own kids days at school, I saw the little individual name tags that I painstakingly taped to each magic marker and pencil. Another epiphany.  There was a pretty good chance that the kids that I was giving the supplies to never had anyone tape their name to a pencil. This foster home is for kids who have been hurt by an adult in their life. It took awhile, but I removed every piece of tape from every pencil and marker. I want these kids to own the supplies, I don’t want them reminded of something that they may have never had. The further I got into cleaning the studio the more I wanted to give. In the end I had four boxes packed to the top, and a couple of bags. When I dropped them off the staff was thrilled. It seems they are in the midst of planning their annual art fundraiser, much of the art supplied by the kids. I had no idea, but when I left there I felt so happy, I felt like I had really done something positive. As I dig my way out of all of the stuff here at home, I’ve figured out a way to catch a breath, by making a difference in the life of a kid. I’ll be looking for more supplies to give away,  its good medicine for what ails me.

A few memories from Sunday to share…

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My Rant: More to come

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I’m back. So soon? Yes, I realized over the last few days that expressing myself on these pages is cathartic for me. I am feeling frustrated and weighted down by our current situation, writing helps me work through my feelings. I’ve always enjoyed writing, in fact I kept a diary for nearly seven years when I was younger. I’ve spent years starting and not finishing short stories, and have multitudes of paper scraps with single lines written on them. A thought or idea pops into my head and I grab whatever happens to be handy to capture the idea before I forget. Sometimes these elusive thoughts have come and gone before I have a chance to do anything with them. Many of them have languished for years in a file folder in my studio, and some have gone on to be parts of poems. I digress…

The point of tonight was to finish what I started last night. When I reread what I wrote I forgot to point out one thing about myself, and that is that I love to work. I derive a great deal of self-satisfaction from physical labor, and the accomplishment of a task. I hadn’t intended to add to last night, but this morning something happened that fueled my displeasure with those that would imply that I might think a job is beneath me. We have hardwood floors throughout our home. Unfortunately two of them sustained damage by bed frames that bore holes and scratches in them. We called in a floor professional who took a look, realized it wasn’t a huge job, and told Dan he could save us money by passing the job onto his “guy”. The implication that somehow the price would be less by cutting out the middleman. Then we got the call with the price…$625.  Six Hundred Twenty Five Dollars! To replace what came down to replacing about eight pieces of hardwood, which by the way we would be supplying. He claimed that the flooring in the guest room would take a day. Dan told him we couldn’t afford it, he said he would see what he could do and call us back. That was yesterday. This morning when Dan went for a walk, I did what I do, I did it myself. Me, still in my nightgown, sitting on the floor of the guest room (I can work as long as I’m sitting), with a hammer, two chisels, and a small screwdriver. Forty five minutes later Dan came home to find the “all day job” more than half done. I got up and brought him in to see what I had done. His response? “That’s my girl”. I am not one of those women who gets an idea, and then proceeds to make her husband do all the work. I think it’s my Parent’s influence. They were both hard workers, and always did their best.  If it’s my idea, I try my hardest to accomplish it. If I need help I will (sometimes) ask. I believe that it is one of the best parts of who I am, it never occurs to me that I can’t accomplish what I want. There is one exception, that unfortunately is my art. If I could master that confidence and apply it to my art, there would be no stopping me.

Another photo tonight. I promise not to make this a habit (not sure you want to see all my appendages), but sometimes when I get an idea in my head and just go at it there are consequences. Consequences like this…

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This is what happens when you don’t wear a glove and smack your hand with a hammer. Did it stop me? No it didn’t, in fact I did it three times, and this is only my left hand, I am sparing you the photo of the blister that covers the entire tip of my right index finger, or the tear in my right knuckle, or the cut left by the sliver of wood that went in my right hand. All day? Six Hundred Twenty Five Dollars, yeah right, I don’t think so, not when there’s a hard-working woman in the house.

One more thought as I look at my no longer colorless hand. People of the world, particularly in Gaza, give peace a chance. I say that my parents influenced my work ethic, but they also taught me that we are all the same. Respect each other, and honor the individual right to worship God, any God, your God, their God, in whatever way they see fit. Love each other, and stop killing in God’s name. As my very wise eighty-one year old father says, “Here’s how I look at religion. It’s like soccer, as long as you’re in the game it doesn’t matter what color jersey you are wearing.” Like I said, a very wise man.

The Journey

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These days I find myself writing posts that I do not publish. This blog has become my personal diary, and at times I just need to let off steam, so I ramble on about my life. I may at some point publish them, many of them might go under the heading “Woe Is Me”. Maybe I should do just that, a series of posts, “Woe Is Me #1”, “Woe is me #2”, I think you know where this is going. There are other times when I am sick of myself and this entire situation, and then I have to ask myself, “Do you want to read that?”, and the answer is, “NO! Get over it already.”

Here’s the good news, I think I’m getting over it. Not that I’m not still a little mad at the world, or sad that I’m losing my home, but I think I’ve moved on to the next phase of the grieving process. As we move through this house neutralizing the decor (Damn you HGTV real estate shows!!!), my house is no longer looking like my home, it is looking like my house. The distinction you ask? It is losing its warmth. My deep rusty-red wall of 22 feet in the front foyer is now a mellow cream. Yuk! Not that I don’t like cream, it is after all on the rest of the walls in the foyer, living room, up the stairs, in the loft, and soon to be in the kitchen. (One color throughout because, “That’s what buyers want to see.” I say, “Get an imagination and some vision”.) I am depersonalizing, no family photos, or treasured vintage pieces on the walls, because, let’s say it in unison, “Buyers need to be able to envision themselves living in the space.” Really? If you can’t buy a house because my kid’s framed photo is on the dresser then there is something wrong with you. Not that I believe everyone watches HGTV, or feels that way, but I know realtors do. Enough of that rant…

Things are not going well in the fund-raising for the bookstore/bistro. We also looked at a space and realized that we may not have enough to do it the way we want. I was devastated, shed a few, well more than a few, tears. But then…plan B! What? There was no plan B, but there is now. I’m not exactly ready to give up on plan A, so B will have to wait patiently in the wings, but I’m relieved B is there., what’s even better is the possibility of a plan C. I have taken a very important step in opening the door a crack for plan C. My Irish passport. Yes, it seems that thanks to my lovely parents and ancestors I am an Irish citizen. I filled in all the papers, and took what is possibly the worst passport photo in the history of passport photos (Really, ask Dan, he agrees. It doesn’t even look like me, unless of course they took it after removing all of my wisdom teeth), I’m sure I will get to Ireland and they (hopefully) will say, “This isn’t you. It couldn’t possibly be you.” I will then have to take out my lovely California driver’s license photo and say, “It really is me, the photographer was awful, the lighting was bad, I was storing nuts in my cheeks for the winter.” Either way, Ireland, or Europe could be part of plan C. Not a bad plan I might add. I might also mention that there could be a plan D, I was born in Canada after all…What’s that? E? We are considering a different less costly business. See? My brain is so busy it has very little time to be sad. Dare I say it, there is a glimmer of hope somewhere down deep in my soul. I think I might have even cracked a smile.

Two things tell me that I am beginning to surface from the depths of despair, one is art. I actually created a piece yesterday, a birthday gift for a friend. I’m not posting it, I didn’t even photograph it, it was from the heart, no publicity needed. I also have at least ten ideas dancing around in my head as well. I just don’t have a minute to work on any of them. The second is the desire to cook. I am as talented with a fry pan as I am with a brush. This morning I felt a renewed sense of hope, which leads to creating in the kitchen. An Eggs Benedict of sorts. Day old mini croissants, toasted under the broiler with a little bit of shredded basil Asiago cheese (thank you Theresa for that!), topped with prosciutto, a poached egg, and some lemon rosemary hollandaise. That’s how I bring a smile to Dan’s face.

7/22

I wrote the above post a few days ago, but as so often happens these days moods come in waves. I was on the top of the crest when I wrote that, but as the day wore on, my good mood crashed on the shore. I’m OK, just momentary setbacks. We are still frantically trying to pack this place. We are both sore and exhausted, but we are also focused on the other side of this. I told Dan last night that I don’t want to try to figure out the future right now. I am content to pack up my old life, and with it hopefully some of the profound sense of loss I am feeling. I want to sell the house, and then I want to see where we are financially. Without knowing what we will walk away with it is difficult to imagine anything. Closing day is breathing day, I want to come back and say goodbye to this home, it really was a home, and also say goodbye to what is in the past. Then I want to sit with my beloved husband, have a glass of wine, and talk about our future.

I also wanted to make sure that I posted something today because it is a day of great significance in my life. I lost my mother seven years ago today. A life that I think ended far too soon. My mother was only twenty-two years older than I. With God’s good grace there’s still time for me to have a second, or even third act. I owe it to my mom to keep going.

 

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This is my mom, Mary. A nineteen year old Irish girl who got on a plane to Canada to marry her boyfriend. She took a chance on a different and better life. There were times when she and my dad had less than I do now, but they struggled on, and I can too. Thanks Mom for giving me the strength to keep going. Love you.

 

Adrift

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Last week I wrote a post I didn’t publish. It was about our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. It had inspired me to write a list of twenty-five of the reasons I think our marriage is successful. I didn’t publish it not because of any change in my marital status. (Still madly in love) I just didn’t feel like offering advice when the rest of our life isn’t in a good place. Maybe another time… I haven’t been creating much in the way of art as of late. That is unless of course you consider packing an art. I’m actually quite good at it. I’ve always enjoyed puzzles, so fitting as much as I can in a box is my daily challenge. Now that I’ve made that poor attempt at a joke, the reality is that the days are becoming more difficult. We hope to have our house on the market in about two weeks. The hardest thing isn’t letting the house go, it’s that we have no idea where we will be when it sells. Everyone “downsizes” eventually, but what if it means you have nowhere to go? It isn’t as if we can shop for a smaller home, we couldn’t qualify for a mortgage, the same with renting, no jobs do not make for good renters. Dan still is without employment. I had a job, but turned it down. I’m sure everyone will think I’m insane, but I have health issues that would have been exacerbated by standing on my feet all day. I am looking for work as a nanny, something that I am very well suited for. I’m a kid person through and through. I actually enjoy the company of children more than many of the adults I’ve met in my life. We are struggling to find the bright spots these days. We have actually discussed the idea of moving overseas. Once the house sells we don’t have any real financial obligations tying us here. Our daughter put us in touch with a friend who lives in France. He has offered to advise us, and tell us how he made the move. It is more than an intriguing thought. We do however have a son close by, and I don’t know that I can leave him. This is all so incredibly hard. We need help. If only life were like “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?” Can someone throw us a lifeline? We’ve already phoned a friend, and have asked the audience for help with our business. And not above asking again…(http://www.gofundme.com/8jgl04) If we could get our business off the ground it would be amazing. We are still short on start-up funds. Here is where the 50/50 comes in. We are thinking of taking a chance with what we earn from the sale of the house. Half to live on, half to start-up the cafe/bookstore. Not sure what the tax implications are, but at this point what else can we do? Yesterday I woke feeling a little lost. Actually a lot lost. It inspired me to do something I haven’t done in quite a while which is write. It is for Dan, who I would be completely lost without. Last night I painted a very quick watercolor. Something to lay my words upon.   IMG_9178

When Night Falls

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I was up today, on the seesaw I mean. I had a pretty good day, which means I didn’t spend a lot of time focusing on the problems at hand. We got out of the house. We went to Barnes and Noble and had something to drink and looked at books. Exciting right? It only cost a couple of dollars, but worth so much more in breathing space. I also had a couple of friends reach out today, one that was very unexpected, so those were good things. And then the sun went down. There is something about the darkness that bleeds the soul. For a number of years Dan traveled quite a bit. I would be home alone for days on end. I was fine, in the daytime, but the night always brought an increased sense of loneliness. I know not everyone feels this way. There are people who prefer the night, not me, not ever. I’m a morning person, bursting with fresh energy like a young (or not so young in my case) colt out the gate. Maybe it has to do with a lifetime of sleep issues. I dreaded nights as a kid. The eternity of laying in my bed waiting for sleep to come. Sometimes crying in the middle of the night because sleep just didn’t come, and the house was so lonely in the dark. I think maybe now nights represent something else, another day passed without a job, an interview, or a response of any kind to an application. I try every morning to start fresh, to look forward to the day, to find some hope, and to stay busy. I think I am also out of sorts because my house is in complete disarray. As I said last night, we are packing, and although I have been known to cause or leave a mess or two, this much of a disaster is more than I can take for too long.

I didn’t set out to write again tonight. I actually thought that time would pass before I could get to it again, but it was cathartic for me. Last night’s posting was the equivalent of a good cry. It helped to get some of what I was feeling out into the world and out of my head. Like I said it also brought out some friends, so a couple of long distance hugs helped as well.

I want to thank everyone who reads my ramblings. I am not so self-involved that I don’t realize there are many problems out there much worse than mine. I do know that I feel better expressing what I feel, and I am grateful for a forum to do so, and to have people be touched enough by it to reach out to me. I also want to thank my own personal “superhero”, the guy who buries his own pain and disappointment on a daily basis to help me get through mine. I love him more than I can say. Thanks Dan.

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A few years ago I made Dan an anniversary gift of the one hundred things I love about him. This photo was part of that.

Bittersweet

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This has been my longest break in a year’s time from this blog. I had just referred to it as a lifeline when I let go. My last post I spoke of finding hope in an unexpected gift, but even that little flicker didn’t seem to last long. I’m struggling. I’ve applied for several jobs, only the one I wrote about last time I posted called me back. I haven’t been working on any art. Just not feeling it. I did a very small piece for tonight.

I also mentioned some life changing news was at hand. I wasn’t at liberty to say so before, at least until it was official, but my daughter is moving to New York. Her husband has gotten a new job there. It is an incredible career opportunity. They are young and excited. For me it is bittersweet. I am very proud of John, and I know living in New York is something Jessica will love, but it is far and I will miss them terribly. I am stealing myself up for what is soon to come, but it isn’t easy. It has been a tough year with no end in sight, I knew this move was in their future, but it is one more hard thing for me to get through at the moment. I also understand that it is life. My Dad left his family behind in Ireland in July of 1956, my Mom that same October. They didn’t return for seventeen years, leaving friends and family far behind. Neither saw their fathers again.  I left Chicago just about eleven years ago to head west to California and it broke my Mom’s heart despite my promises to come back often, and to have her visit as well. I guess I now know just how much it hurts.  The good thing is that it isn’t 1956, I am fairly computer savvy, there are cell phones and texts, and although I am absolutely terrified of flying, my flying companion Xanax is always ready for the trip.

Life never goes as you think it will. Years ago my son Brian gave me a recording of a song called “What Sarah Said”, from the band Death Cab For Cutie. I liked the melody but hadn’t really paid attention to the lyrics. Then my Mom died, and suddenly the song had real meaning for me. I thought about it again today. I spent the day with Jessica. A lovely Mother’s Day gift. A day out with my daughter. I was thinking tonight about all the plans I thought I had for my future, our future, Dan and mine, for hers, for Brian’s, and then the line from the song popped into my head:

And it came to me then that every plan
Is a tiny prayer to father time

There are no plans, only hopes and dreams, and reality. My new reality. I have no idea what mine will be, what Dan and I together will do, where Brian will be in a year or five years, he is still in the process of self-discovery. I know my tiny prayer includes happiness and self-realization for my son, success for my daughter and son-in-law in their new journey, and many visits to New York. I’m feeling a little lost and out of sorts these days. I don’t know what life has in store for me, for us, but one thing I do know,

I know I will miss my girl.

 

Part of my heart is leaving town…

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A Gift

A few weeks ago when I hit the one year mark on this blog I wasn’t sure what direction I was going to take it in. I’m still not sure. My life has turned into something I never expected. It’s been a bittersweet week, and although I can’t explain what that means as of yet, it involves a major change. This blog has evolved from an art project into a daily journal of our life as a family going through the crisis of unemployment. Things had come to a head as of late and I was really feeling the stress of all of it. Things are no better as I write this. Dan and I are still looking for jobs without much luck. Just the other day I received a call back from a woman’s apparel store and was excited that something might be changing for us, but I didn’t get the job. The woman on the phone didn’t feel that I was qualified because I had never sold clothing before. That in spite of the fact that I worked customer service in a retail environment for more than eighteen years. I’m not quite sure what it is that she thought I was incapable of. I’ve been a wife and mother for thirty years, I have two grown children, I obviously have been in quite a few clothing stores, and have folded more than my share of laundry. In my job at the grocery store I handled thousands of monetary transactions, balanced daily sales reports, verified armor truck deliveries, and much, much more, but she wasn’t interested in anything I had to offer.

I’ve been losing faith. Faith in everything. Lately even my prayers are disrupted in my head by moments of doubt. There have been glimmers of hope, but I have seen them snatched away as quickly as they broke through the darkness. What has helped us through all of this is our deep love for each other, and the love and support of our families.

 

I wrote the words above three days ago and then I stopped writing. I quit, I let the weight of all of this get the best of me. I had given up. It has been so long since something positive has happened for us that I had fallen into a depression nearly as bad as the one I had suffered when my mother died. That was Friday. Saturday Dan and I headed down to San Diego. He has a job interview tomorrow and we were doing a little research on the product. He is well aware of the depths of my struggle, he is and always has been my lifeline. As we drove along I told him how much I wished something nice would happen for us, it has been so very long. Then we got the mail. Inside was a card from a friend. Inside the card was a gift beyond words. Yes there was money, not enough to start our business, but this isn’t about the money I found in the card, it’s about the hope. When I saw what was inside and read the words, I cried. It is enough to allow me to take a breath and believe in the future. We have gotten help from our families, they have been as generous as they can be both in support and varying amounts of cash. What made this different was that it was from someone who isn’t family, someone who knew my struggle and reached out to help. This person doesn’t want credit, and could barely take my thanks, but I have to be thankful to someone who gave me back my life, my hope, my faith. All we can do is move ahead. As our benefactor said, “Don’t look back, only look forward.”

 

So here we go. The burden feels a little lighter. Onward to better things.

As for tomorrow? Please pray for Dan for tomorrow’s interview. We need it, but in the mean time…The Curious Cat Books & Bistro is in the works. A few photos to share tonight, hopefully new art for tomorrow.

Bread Pudding with Vanilla Sauce

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For lunch? Grape Almond Chicken Salad & Macaroni Salad

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Afternoon Tea

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and a late night cheese plate to share…

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Everything but the bread made from scratch.

Dark Skies Ahead

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I’ve been away for a few days. Not from my home, which I will unfortunately have to leave soon enough, but from this blog and its accompanying art. It turns out that this has become a bigger life line than I thought. Focusing on the writing and the art has kept my mind occupied and forced my troubles to take a back seat. I gave it up for a couple of days because they were bad days, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t create. On Saturday I spoke of a “funk”, this wasn’t a funk, but rather a full-blown depression. The end of our line is so close I can almost taste it. Dan and I have both been applying for jobs to help us through these tough times. We need something to keep us going while we work towards the business. Trouble is no one wants to hire us. If I hear one more politician speak of those who won’t help themselves I’ll scream. I want to work, Dan wants to work, but in this youth obsessed culture we are dinosaurs. By Monday of this week I couldn’t stop crying, that’s it, crying all day, unable to function with my wonderful husband comforting me and promising to take care of me, the entire time feeling the exact same sense of doom. This isn’t about “stuff”, the house, the cars, the things we own. It’s about mourning the loss of the life we were living, not nearly as well off as some, but grateful to not have as little as others. We are part of the disappearing middle class. People who do the right things, work hard, take care of our family, educate our children, and help those less fortunate with whatever we could, only to have the rug pulled out from under us with no end in sight. I am a self admitted control freak. My life is spinning out of control. I need to be on the other side of this no matter what the outcome. Its definite, our home will have to go, but where do we go? No jobs? No lease. We can’t even rent. I am scared. It is no longer about saving for retirement, the question now is how do we live at all? There are those around us that have lent a helping hand, they will never know the amount of gratitude that we feel because there are no words. I am rambling as I write because my mind is in a whirl. I just need to be settled, somewhere, somehow.  So many questions, so few answers. Dan is my rock. He keeps telling me we will be OK. He reminds me how happy we were years ago when we were young and broke and living in an apartment paycheck to paycheck. We were happy, but we also had hope, and we were young with the future ahead of us. Now we are middle-aged, on the edge of losing everything, and terrified of what the future could bring. We want to work, I cannot say it enough. We want to open our business, and we want to hire people like ourselves, people who will work hard and care about what they do. I don’t want to give up, and I know all of this sounds like I already have, but I’m trying. I struggle every day to accomplish something towards our future, our business, we just need to get it off the ground. If you’ve stayed with me though all of this, thanks for listening. Sometimes it helps to just get it out of my head. Call it therapy, group therapy if you will.

Pen and ink, pencil and a little purple marker. Those little looking glasses that are falling? I’m trying to see the future through the rain.

 

Artist cards.dark skies ahead

 

To Be Continued…???

I’m back. Posting just a little tonight. One of the unfortunate side effects of moving west is leaving our sports teams behind. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a big sports fan. Actually if I never watched a sporting event again it would be fine with me. I think it has something to do with my childhood. My Dad played professional soccer when I was a kid. Every weekend my Mom would dress my sisters and I in matching dresses, frilly socks, with bows in our hair, and make us sit on the sidelines watching our Dad play. The other kids would be running around enjoying themselves, not us, we were like little matching dolls all sitting in a row. These days I’m just trying to be a supportive wife. The Blackhawks are in the playoffs, and if we want to see them we have to go out, and of course they went into triple overtime. We thankfully left before they lost. So here I am writing at ten when I should be going to bed.

I did manage to eke out a watercolor this afternoon. Still working on my super secret project that I can’t unveil as of yet.  The lovely Theresa came by today and gave me some beautiful tulips. I managed to paint them right before we walked out the door. Tonight is my last night of posting retrospective work. I’m still not sure now that my year is up how I will proceed with this blog. Lots of changes ahead in my life, most of which I can’t reveal quite yet, but I missed writing when I took the night off. I can’t promise myself that I’ll write every day, but I feel like its been something to hang onto in these troubled days since Dan lost his job. I think we know what we have to do. Making the plan is the easy part, jumping into it is a whole other matter. That may seem a little cryptic, but I will explain in time. Meanwhile, the last of my favorite pieces, and the first to head into the future. As for this blog and project? The title says it all.

4 17 14  Today’s work

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

photo Riley, one of my cats in pencil.

 

 

 

 

IMG_9711  The children’s play area that we built for the children at our daughter’s wedding.

 

 

 

image  The tabletop I painted based on a vintage French powder tin that I own.

 

 

 

 

Ab aeterno (4)  Altered Art. The photo is from a gravestone in Virginia.

 

 

 

 

005  A piece I did fairly early in the project. An ode to my artistic journey.

Marker on Bristol.

 

 

5 13  My faux brick wall, made entirely from cardboard. My most often pinned pin on Pinterest.

 

 

 

image  Pastel desert scene.

 

 

 

 

 

6 3 3 6 3 (1)  The “before” and “after” of a table I bought for $5. Wood burned design painted with pearl paints.

 

 

 

 

 

IMG_0831 Theresa’s old kitchen cabinet door. Canvas cut to size to fill the center. I reproduced the business card of the restaurant where Dan and I had dinner in Paris for our 20th wedding anniversary.

 

 

 

 

12 20 Riley once again in pencil.

 

 

 

IMG_3262 The sign I made for my daughter and son-in-law for Christmas. Cardboard and burnt glue.

 

 

 

 

12 25 Custom designed Christmas fairy.

 

 

 

 

IMG_3427IMG_3430  More of the burnt paper and glue on a cardboard pencil box base.

 

 

 

 

2 7 14 (1) Polymer clay sculpting attached to a small cardboard box.

 

 

 

 

2 23 14 (2) Old window transformed into a memo station with mirror.

 

 

 

3 24 14 Another cabinet door.

 

 

 

 

4 4 14 (1) Antiqued mirror with one of my Paris photos tinted sepia.

 

 

 

 

There were a few more pieces that I love, but I’m tired. I think the triple overtime did me in.

 

 

 

 

 

Day 365

Today is day 365. I did it, a year of writing every day, of not giving up on myself, of pushing myself on days that I didn’t want to do anything, and keeping my promise to create every single day. In retrospect there are days when a bad mood, a bad attitude, laziness, or frustration presented itself in the work I produced. I can tell what days those are by looking at the work. I can also say that I am proud of myself for what I’ve accomplished. This blog evolved into a much more personal diary than I had ever intended. I have more to say about all of this, but as I’ve so often mentioned here on these pages, life sometimes takes turns that you never expect.

There was a tragedy in my family today. My beautiful niece was in the beginning of a new relationship. The young man was killed early this morning in a car accident. My heart breaks for her, I love her like she is my own daughter. I have no words to comfort her, and I am too far away to wrap my arms around her. I didn’t know this young man, I only saw photographs that showed two young people happy, and read messages on Facebook that made me aware of just how crazy he was about her. His brother was injured as well and is critical, he is the father of two young children. My heart bleeds for this family. I have asked for prayers before. I’m asking again. This time for some people I don’t really know, and for my niece. Ask God, whatever God is yours to help them through this terrible time, to bring them peace, to help that young father heal. As I told my niece a short time ago, hopefully she can find some solace in knowing that her boyfriend passed away at a point in his life when he was happy because of her. It is a day like today that puts so much in perspective. My life isn’t perfect, far from it, but many miles away from me is a lovely girl with a broken heart living a nightmare, and parents who are mourning the loss of one son, and praying for another to survive. I cannot even imagine their pain.

I’m still working on Maddie’s portrait. I redid entire portions of it, but I won’t be posting it tonight. I decided instead to go through this past years work and choose the pieces I’m most proud of. A retrospective if you will…later… I began to look at my work, and I did more pieces of work that I love than I was aware of. Tonight on a night when I think about life and it’s sometimes very sad turns, I will post portraits and figures, but on this page the three that mean the most. My son, my husband, my daughter. I love you all and thank you for your support and encouragement over the last year. A second post to follow with the rest.

Honestly, nothing seems important right now. I just want to say to my niece, “I love you. I wish it were in my power to make this all better for you. To change the last twenty-four hours. To give you whatever you need to heal. To give those two young men back to their families. I am praying for you all.”

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