Observations From The Coffee Shop

I’m waiting. A practice I am normally not good at, but then again it depends on who or what you are waiting for. I’m sitting in a Starbucks in Dana Point, California. I believe it is a fairly affluent community, most of what lies along the Southern California Coast seems to be. At least that’s my first observation.  I’m waiting for Dan who has a job interview up the street. Like I said, it depends on who and what you are waiting for. In my case, my whole world is up the street in the hands of people I don’t know. I can only sit here and wait, hoping that they are smart enough to recognize what I already know. He’s the best man…for the job, as a father, as my husband. Loyal to the core, hardworking, thoughtful, and intelligent beyond description. He’s one of those annoying people who’s turn takes forty minutes playing Trivial Pursuit, or who knows just about every answer on Jeopardy. I asked last night for good karma, I can only hope he feels mine as I write this. Do they care how loved he is? Probably not. Do they care about how many people in our life are pulling for him right now? No. They (and by this I mean all employers) look at a resume and make assumptions, or do the math and figure out how old he is, and then decide he isn’t worth talking to. But if they really did the math they would also figure out just how quickly he went from the guy walking the streets of Chicago selling beer, to running the military for one of the biggest energy drinks in the world, and doing it very successfully. He is the guy who cares about everything he does, no matter what it is. The guy who sees the old person at the store and asks if they need assistance. The guy who can’t walk by someone in need without offering help. Not long ago down in San Diego a homeless guy thanked Dan, not for money, but for the full takeout dinner he bought him from the nice Italian restaurant we were eating at, and more than that, for talking to him like a human being. So people on the other side of the desk up the street, take a good look, and if you see even one tenth of what I see, you will hire him on the spot.

My second observation. When I walked into Starbucks the young man in the line ahead of me was obviously handicapped. He purchased three drinks, and as I watched him put his change in his pocket he handed the barista a twenty-dollar bill, I’m assuming a tip on an order that was less than twenty dollars.Right away it struck me as wrong. I don’t know exactly what was wrong with this young man, but I am old enough to recognize disability. Obviously I don’t know him, he could be a millionaire for all I know, but I just felt that it was wrong to take that twenty. (Then the young barista called me “Miss” instead of “Ma’am” and I forgave him on the spot….just kidding) As I sat sort of stewing about it I remembered something out of my own young past. Mr. Norian. He was a customer at the grocery store I worked at. Cute as a button, probably in his 70’s. Actually if Dopey of Seven Dwarfs fame came to life, he would look like Mr. Norian. He came in the store almost daily. He would flirt with all of us girls in the service desk, sometimes he would bring us coffee. He really liked me, and there were days when he would come in and ask to take me to lunch. I always went. It was always at the Burger King across the street. It went on for several years. Turns out when all of us “Dominick’s Girls” got together, we all knew him, he was doing the same thing at about four stores. Then came they day when we all found out the truth. Mr. Norian was broke, he was playing the system. He befriended all of us in the service desk, not only at Dominick’s, but also our competitors, Jewel and Treasure Island. He was passing checks. Not to accumulate wealth, but to survive.  We were all guilty of overriding his check cashing limit. He simply wrote checks to cover checks, for years, before it at last caught up with him. I never would have taken those lunches had I known, in fact I would have bought him lunch. As always, I need to remember not to be too hasty in judging someone else. Sometimes you are young and you just don’t know.

Dinner on the other side of the hills, no time for art. I did of course make more fairies today, but I also did a little doodling at the coffee shop.11 19

Regaining Control

I woke this morning and realized I had a decision to make. I could either continue on my current course and find myself falling deeper and deeper into a depressed state about my work, or I could change myself once again. I am seven months into this year-long project, seven months that have changed me in countless ways, not only artistically, but on several levels. In the last few weeks due to things here at home, my Dad’s fall and subsequent issues, Dan’s unemployment, and our business, I found myself feeling anxious and somewhat depressed. I was beginning to lose ground on everything that I have achieved for myself. As excited as I am at the prospect of having our business open, I’m also feeling tremendous pressure, and then what do I do? I add more pressure by signing up for a show. I realized this morning that I was pulling away from my new-found confidence and falling victim to my own self doubt. I have made about thirty-five fairy ornaments in the last three days, but haven’t been doing any art. As I explained to Dan today, while I care very deeply about everything I do, these ornaments I’m working on don’t have the same meaning for me as my other fine art does. I called them “crap” today, which is wrong. They are beautiful, and I truly do spend entirely too much time on them, they are art, but not the art I want to do. I had a little meltdown yesterday. I was working on the ornaments feeling anxious about not having enough done, because I really want to make money for Christmas, and feeling pressure to produce for my project, and of course the million other pressures I put on myself day after day, and I began to cry. I went to my room and just sat quietly for a moment, then came down to tell Dan that I needed to get out of the house for a while. I just needed to clear my head. As always he is wonderful and understanding, and he took me out for a cup of coffee. I came back feeling a little better, and went back to work on the ornaments. I did take time to create the gift certificate I posted last night, but I was still unhappy. It wasn’t by any means my finest work. This morning’s decision was to not give the power back to the me that was never good enough. I do need ornaments for the show, and to hopefully sell on etsy, but I need to give myself the time that I cheated myself out of for far too many years. I took an hour this morning to sketch, and then I worked all afternoon making fairies. I quit at six, Dan and I made dinner together, and then I painted while we watched a movie. A jam-packed day, but a far more satisfying one. I just need to make sure that when I’m juggling too many balls I make sure I’m the one on the top.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I like drawing and painting ordinary objects. I have a nice collection of depression glass. In that collection I have a couple of really cool kitchen pieces. The one I painted tonight is an old ice breaker. It still has its original green glass bowl. A watercolor.

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Phoning It In

I admit it, I should have taken the night off last night. Apologies to all who read my blog. I really should have named this post “burning the candle at both ends”, because that is what I have been doing. We are heavily into the early stages of our business, and I signed on to do the craft show which is only three weeks away. I’ve been stressed and worried, and not sleeping well. There is also the issue of my knees. One of the wonderful side effects of all of my knee surgeries is the intense pain that decides to make an appearance in the middle of the night. It happened at about two o’clock yesterday morning. I woke feeling as though the creatures who live under the bed were taking batting practice against my right kneecap. I couldn’t get back to sleep so I wound up on the couch watching The Color Purple at 3:15 in the morning. I fell asleep about an hour into the movie, but then woke on and off until I finally gave up around 6:30. I started my day very soon after, and worked until dinner. I attempted to do an art project afterwards, but quite honestly I was done. By the time I wrote last night’s post I was seeing double. I put in another full day of fairy making today. I found myself really stressing out today, and part of that was this project. I haven’t had time to do much other art aside from stuff for the show. I was missing it. Doing something artistic every day has become a habit, and while I consider my craft work to be very artistic, it just isn’t the same. I made sure to take a little time to do something, and since we are getting closer to opening our business I decided to do something for that. We were working on the business plan today and talked about gift certificates. I made designing that my project for this evening. It may be rough for the next few weeks as I juggle starting the business, the holidays, and my project, but I’m going to do the best I can as always.

The gift certificate has our business name blocked out for the moment, (also I cropped it just a wee bit off for this post) but will be revealed soon enough.#2

It’s Almost Time

Scrambling to write at the last-minute. I spent the entire day again working on my grandfather clock project. I couldn’t be happier with how it is turning out. I’m not quite ready to reveal it yet. I have some final touches that I will take care of tomorrow. I want to thank everyone who reached out to offer support after reading my post of a few days ago. I am very nervous heading into business, actually incredibly overwhelmed, but I think it bears repeating that with Dan at my side we can do anything. I have so many thoughts about how we should do things that I’m finding it hard to rein myself in. I guess what it comes down to is that I am terrified but also very excited at seeing our dream come to fruition. This piece I have been working on is just an example of how much I care about what I do. I want every detail to be perfect. I just have to move past this fear of failure. I don’t really blame myself. We aren’t as young as we use to be, and it will take very penny we have. It’s a difficult decision to put everything on the line.

For tonight I am posting an older watercolor. Talk about fear, this is a painting I did from a photo I took while sailing with friends in San Diego. I hate the water, I can’t swim, I have taken lessons twice and failed both times. That isn’t surprising considering my lack of coordination, and that I don’t like water in my face. Dan says I remind him of a cat. I did go willing on this sailing trip, as long as I have a life vest, I’m good. I love taking photos on the water.

Tomorrow my finished clock. It’s almost time…get it? I know, it’s late.Watercolor

Hanging On

Standing on the edge, afraid to jump. That’s me. We went to look at commercial rental properties today and the enormity of our dream slapped me in the face. I’ve been dreaming of opening my own business for more than twenty years, and now that it could become a reality I feel the ghost of “not good enough” filling my brain with doubt. All these months of planning, and suddenly I feel clueless. I started the morning excited and ended it feeling nauseous. I think it’s time once again to have a good talking to myself. It certainly isn’t the work I’m in fear of. I strangely enjoy physical labor. It isn’t that I don’t have the intelligence or qualifications, and it isn’t that I have any doubts about working side by side with my husband every single day. I’ve spent so much of my life making sure everyone around me is happy. I have spent very little time or effort trying to do it for myself, and here it is, my dream, my happiness, my future, and I just don’t know how to do it. I started this post with “standing on the edge”, I think I feel more like I’m holding onto the edge and afraid to pull myself up. There is the chance of failure on the other side and I think that’s what I fear most. This project was the first baby step towards building a life for myself now that my kids are older, but when I think about opening our business it begins to feel like I went from first steps to marathon running. I’ve spent the day worrying, which I know won’t solve anything, but at least I know I’m good at it.11 8

Not much in the way of art tonight. My brain is in a state of panic. Just me hanging on and hoping to pull myself up.

Nonsensical Doodling

I’m a smart woman, an obviously talented woman, there isn’t too much that I can’t figure out…well OK, perspective, dancing, reading instruction manuals, my singing voice (if you can call it that), and football. I can however still manage to draw, to follow Dan on the dance floor to a certain extent, granted I may bruise a few of his toes, read the instruction manual twenty times until it sinks in, manage to sing along to Carole King or Carly Simon when no one is listening, and identify knee injuries when football players get knocked down (six knee surgeries, what can I say, I know a torn ACL when I see it). There is one thing I just can’t get a handle on. I’m ashamed to say its fourth grade math. My friend Gabby is nine, she is a very smart little girl. This morning she was stumped on two problems from last night’s homework and asked for help. “Sure”, I said, confident that I could help. Then I looked at it. Oh no, fractions! I have helped Gabby with homework before, it is always math. It usually goes something like this.

Gabby:  “Jackie can you help me with these problems?”

Me: “Of course I can.” Then I look at the problems, tell Gabby how to do them, and then…

Gabby: “I don’t think that’s right. I think this is how you do it.”

Me: ” You know what? You’re right.”

I don’t even know why she’s asks me.

This morning was no different. I saw fractions, visions of Sister Aloysius popped in my head, and I panicked. I grabbed my phone and called in my mathematical “go to guy”, Dan. I explained my dilemma. After he finished laughing he told me how to do the math. It’s pathetic, and embarrassing when you are my age and can’t help a nine-year old with their homework. It makes no sense to me at all. I don’t understand how an intelligent adult can’t do fourth grade math. I am sure however that there are plenty of math geniuses out there who can only draw stick figures. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I had a very busy day planning for business. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do tonight. I’m tired. My body is still protesting the falling back of the clock. It is actually refusing to listen to the clock. As a result I have been up before five every morning this week. I think my body clock and my brain need to have a conversation about how tired my eyes are. I also think that the fractions caused some temporary brain damage. I sat after dinner and played with my pens. A nonsensical doodle is the result. I started drawing with no idea of where I was going to end up. In the end I began to think that it looks a little like a Dr. Seuss. The drawing looks like it is running from the page. Maybe if the Cat In The Hat needed a book-plate…

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Not Music To My Ears

I’ve been known to air a pet peeve or two here on this blog. I do it for a number of reasons, the first of which is that I sometimes get tired of myself. I began the blog a little on the “woe is me” side of things. I realized that I could only continue to feel sorry for myself for so long. I was boring myself. I wanted to give the people who were kind enough to follow along something interesting to read, and finally because as I pointed out a long time ago, this is my blog I make the rules. This gives me the right to yell to the world about what in life I find annoying. As always I add a disclaimer. This is my opinion, and for me that makes it right. I firmly believe everyone deserves the right to feel what they feel, and I have the right to feel that they are wrong (just kidding…sort of). Today I think I may stand the chance of being agreed with by all. Why? Because today I am going to rant about music. I love music. Not all music. I really hated Country for a long time, but more and more cross over artists have swayed my opinion just a little. I still really dislike some of it, but the torch has been passed. Reggae now reigns supreme in my most hated music category. Can’t stand it, nails on a chalkboard for me. In general my biggest issues tend to be not with the music (except for Reggae, I hate everything about it), but rather the lyrics. I’m a word person. I really listen to the words. When my daughter was a teenager I lectured her severely on the purchase of an Eminem CD. I read the lyrics and was horrified. She received a long lecture on the history of the Women’s Movement, the sacrifices made, rights earned, and how she as a woman should be outraged. I’m sure in her mind she was rolling her eyes, but I felt that strongly about it. What started my little rant today was a phone call that Dan made. He called about an electronics product that we had repaired. The repair isn’t the issue, it was the horrible music he was forced to listen to as he waited. I’m not one that enjoys the loop of the “We will be right with you” robo voice, but I think I would have rather have listened to that. Several weeks ago I was in the Ladies Room of a national restaurant chain, forced to listen to the lyrics, “She got red so now I got the blues”. Kill me now. And in the bathroom no less, no escape. Earlier in the year I actually complained to a very high-end clothing store, again a national chain, because the lyrics I was forced to listen to while on hold were so offensive I wrote them down in order to repeat them to the operator. Does anyone listen to the tracks they are putting on these phones? I’m sure some people would assume I’m a cranky old lady, I’m not. I think I’m the only Lady Gaga fan in the house. It’s just that I want to choose what to listen to, not have it forced on me by some anonymous computer. I also again respect your right to listen to what you want while you drive, but could you turn it down at the stop light? Please? Aren’t those the songs that become the “ear-worms” that you can’t get out of your head? So now I have that rant off my mind, but there is still that song stuck in my head…She got red, so I got blue. Can you hear the sounds of me smacking the side of my head?

My pastels were still out on the table from last night, and I had some beautiful sunflowers from Emily, so Ta Da!  (or is it Ta Dah? who knows?) A project for tonight. A pastel and pencil sketch of my flowers. Perspective is questionable as always, but then it wouldn’t be mine if the perspective was perfect, would it?

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Falling Back

Why is it so easy to develop bad habits as opposed to good? What is it about us as humans that makes us do things that we are smart enough to know not to do? And when we do face reality and decide to change ourselves, why is it so difficult? I read somewhere that when someone exercises regularly for six weeks it becomes part of their life and they crave it. Do you want to know what I think? I think someone made that up. I exercise because I have to, I never do it because I want to. More than six months into this project and I’m still fighting my bad habits. I will admit there are nights when I just don’t want to do this. I move along great for a couple of days, feel like I’m really making progress and then like last night’s clock I’m falling back again. My dear friend Theresa is teaching little Emily that every day is a new day, a new chance to start fresh. Good advice, advice I should take and act on immediately, and because tomorrow is Monday, and you know the traditional, “I’ll start Monday” promise we have all made at least once in our lives. I think I need to write a schedule for myself, a schedule for art. Maybe if I actually officially make it part of my day things will fall into to place, if not there’s always next Monday.

I didn’t have a lot of time to work on an art project today. Jessica’s birthday is tomorrow and as is the tradition with birthdays around here, I made whatever she wanted to eat. Originally I suggested an Iron Chef kind of meal and she picked butternut squash, but I realized we wouldn’t have enough time to eat as many dishes as I came up with. I made butternut squash soup with curry, and a butternut squash lasagna, and a chicken dish. She had also requested a peanut butter pie. Overachiever that I am I thought the pie wasn’t “birthday” enough and baked a chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. In the end, and after I woke from my food coma, I did a small watercolor for Jessica. Bleeding Hearts, her favorite flower. Tomorrow I will have to talk about the story of the soup. It’s entertaining, I promise.

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It’s Just Overkill

There’s a song by the Australian band Men At Work named “Overkill”. There is also a really terrific acoustic version by Colin Hays the lead singer who wrote the song. Dan says that the song reminds him of me, particularly this stanza:

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perhaps it’s just imagination

It is true that I worry entirely too much. I think some of it is motherhood, but most of it comes naturally to me. I remember laying in bed at night as a kid and fretting over the next day. I was so shy, and also a very easy target for some nasty kids, so school was something I dreaded. It’s funny how music entwines itself into your psyche. Sunday nights CBS aired Mission Impossible (the television show not the Tom Cruise stuff), I hate the theme music. It was the last thing I heard before going to sleep to start another school week. I’ve had trouble sleeping my entire life. I will often toss and turn trying to sleep but my brain just wont shut off, or I wake in the middle of the night worried over something I forgot to do.  For years I kept a pad of paper and pen next to the bed so that when I thought of something I needed to remember I could write it down. I couldn’t turn the light on because I shared a room with my sister, so of course I spent ten minutes the following morning trying to decipher what I wrote in the dark. The upside is that I have an amazing memory, the down side for my family is that I NEVER forget anything. I worry over the big things and the very little details. My daughter is newly married and very happy so I shouldn’t worry right? She works late, drives home alone, and walks to her apartment, all of which equals…you guessed it…worry! My son is twenty-three and still figuring out his way in the world…big worry. He is an extremely intelligent young man, funny, personable, and I don’t mind saying quite handsome, but still I worry. I want him to be happy. When you are a mom you want to do so much for your kids, happy is the one thing they really have to do for themselves. So could someone please tell me how to close off the maternal part of my brain? That’s not all, of course not. I worry about my husband, my dad, my sisters and their families, my friends, my cats, my, my, my, everything! For myself? That is an easy one. My art. I worry that I won’t get it right. That the damned perspective is off once again. That the painting looks flat. That the portrait doesn’t look like the subject. I could continue but I’m sure you get the idea. Tonight I was worried about my son. That affected my painting. I couldn’t concentrate. Now I’m worried about the painting, the perspective, that the rose doesn’t look enough like a rose…blah, blah, blah. I really wish I had a way to tell my brain that Brian will be fine, that the painting isn’t that bad, that tomorrow is another day, but I don’t. So tonight,

“I can’t get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perhaps it’s just imagination

You can look up the rest, or download the single. It’s a really great song, and its way better than the theme to Mission Impossible.

Tonight a watercolor. My amazing husband bought me flowers when we were in Paris. I even managed to sneak a few dried petals back with me, and of course the bag.

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One For The Books

082 I’m sure everyone who reads this blog knows by now that our upcoming business will involve the sale of books. I may have even mentioned it myself. (After two hundred plus blogs I sometimes forget what I’ve talked about!) Dan had an e-reader, it came in quite handy when he was flying for business. When he got an  iPad he passed the e-reader on to me. I never used it, not once. We probably have upwards of three hundred books in our home. We are readers, our children are readers, and that makes me very happy. I like the feel of a book in my hands. I like to open my cookbooks and see crumbs in the crease of the binding. Books are magic. They can transport us from our everyday lives to the other side of the world. A good book can touch every human emotion. They can make us happy, sad, scared, enlightened, and take us to places we never knew existed. Yes an e-reader contains words, but there is something so special about a book. Have you ever picked up an old book to find an inscription inside? When I give my grandchildren books I want to be able to write a message inside the cover. I want to bend the corner where I left off. I want to highlight the sentence that spoke to me. E-readers have their place. It’s just not my place.

My daughter was invited to a baby shower recently. Along with the invitation she was given a book-plate. A small sticker to place inside a book for the new baby, but what I really loved about it was that it offered the giver of the book a place to write why they chose that book. I think it is an extraordinary idea to share something so precious. To be honest I would have a hard time picking one book for this assignment. For tonight more book-plates for our business.

I also had the pleasure today of dressing two very special friends for Halloween. To my favorite zombies, Gabby and Kingston, I hope you had a lot of fun tonight.

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