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Just Like Mom

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We are close to listing, I believe by Wednesday of this week. By then my right knee should move from softball size to small watermelon. I spent yesterday in the garden, as I had the day before. I painted the patio, and then that led to thinking that the frames around the window looked dirty, so I pulled out a small ladder and repainted those. I believe I have become just a little crazed. Today in 97 degree heat I will be repainting the door in from the garden. It’s the domino effect. Every time I clean one thing it makes the thing next to it look a little duller. I really need to stop. The place looks beautiful. I will be taking pictures soon, and will share some of our handiwork.

A few weeks before my Mother died she began cleaning out drawers. She made a comment to my sister about not wanting people to think she was “dirty”.  She wasn’t expecting company, there was no one set to arrive at her home to inspect her cleanliness, it was as if she had a premonition that those drawers would be opened again, but the next time it wouldn’t be by her. It still brings tears to my eyes when I think about moments like that. How alone she felt at times. The last night she spent in her house was alone, up all night suffering a heart attack. She was afraid, she always put my Dad first so she didn’t wake him, instead she sat by herself that entire night. It breaks my heart. What’s worse is that she spent the night in the comfort of her only friend, her cigarettes. So often I wish I could go back and tell her to call me, or to call one of my sisters. There isn’t one of us that wouldn’t have rushed to her side.

All of this came to my mind this morning as I continued the relentless preparation of my house to make it ready for sale. I am my Mother’s daughter. I have been looking at homes for sale closer to Dan’s job, and quite frankly I am appalled at some of what I am seeing. I would be embarrassed to reveal the kind of filth that is photographed and publicly displayed for the world to see. OK, so I’m being a little harsh, but really? I have cleaned every inch of this home, it is immaculate, every nook and cranny I can think of is getting a through go over. I wouldn’t dream of asking someone to move in and clean up after me. Years ago in Chicago we were looking for a house to buy. We went to see a typical Chicago Bungalow owned by someone named Otto. The house needed work, which is a challenge I enjoy, but what I didn’t enjoy was the amount of dirt I saw on every window ledge, the unappealing odor, and the general mess of the entire house. When I see that (or in this case smell that) I wonder what could possibly be underneath it all. Yuck! Sends a shiver down my spine. When we left Otto asked if we were interested, and when we said no he asked why. We lied, said the house was too small, but the reality is that I wanted to tell him to clean his house. A little elbow grease never hurt anyone.  I love my home, I’m proud of my home, and if I didn’t clean it my Mom would be ashamed. That in itself is enough of a motivating factor.

 

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.

Looking For The Light

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Several years ago a young man named Michael, who worked with Dan, was killed. He was hit by a car while playing Good Samaritan. He had stopped on the side of a highway to help someone who had a flat. It was one of those things in life that make you pause and ask “Why?” There are memories of moments like which bring me to look at things in a different perspective. Let’s face it, we are all self-centered and a little narcissistic in our misery. Some of us need to talk about it just to blow off steam, others wear their misery like a badge of honor, showing themselves to the world as if to say, “Look at me, I can handle this, I’m strong. I don’t let things get me down.” Some of us crawl inside ourselves, we don’t let anyone in, and build walls that say, “Stay out. I don’t need anyone.” I think in my case there is without a doubt some self-pity going on, but can you blame me? Yes, I am putting my misery out there for the world to see, but I think I in many ways am doing something really good here. My life at the moment is pretty much your basic nightmare, loss of job, loss of house, not knowing what’s next, but in all the darkness, in all my public decrees of misery, there is something more, there are the bright spots of friendship and support from family and friends, but in the center of it all there is love. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. What is happening to us could tear people apart, but Dan and I continue to get stronger and closer each and every day. Despite what I have lost, and continue to lose, nothing can take that away from me. While packing my life away yesterday, I came across the card from Michael’s funeral. I never met Michael, but I hung on to this card because of what it said on the reverse, “Once in a while you will get shown the light, in the strangest of places, if you look at it right.” I loved it when I read it, and these days I grab the moments of light every chance I get. I mentioned the quote to Dan, who told me it is from the Grateful Dead. A twenty-five year old man died doing the decent thing. I have a wonderful, decent man right here, and he is struggling as much as I am, but every single day he makes me laugh or smile, he tries to take the worry from my shoulders. I am sad, a little depressed, exhausted and worried, but I am loved. To quote another song, “Who could ask for anything more?” Another positive for today. A small step in the right direction, I worked.  I played around a little with my pastel chalk, a spray bottle of bleach, and a little starry night thanks to a paint program. I think the piece is pretty self-explanatory. IMG_9203

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.

January 2011 248
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.

She’s Gone Missing

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So I sit here as I have been for more than an hour pouring my heart out on this page, and then it was gone. I keep saying that things just can’t go right and here we go again. I will try to recall what I wrote…

She’s Gone Missing…it’s me. The me that I was discovering in the last year with this blog. If you read this blog you know our situation. It has been more than a year now and Dan is still unemployed. We are both unemployed. We have tried. He has had many, many interviews, filled out countless applications, and nothing. Dan has been the breadwinner of this family for most of our relationship. I contributed in a small way, usually around Christmas via small holiday church shows, but now I have been looking as well. No one wants to hire us. I worked at a grocery store for more than eighteen years, yet not even the grocery stores that I have applied to want to hire me. I think it has to do with our age. Most of the applications are on-line. I have put way too much of my personal information out into the cosmos in hopes that someone might call me. No one calls. I think they see a date at the top of the page and decide we are too old. If anyone would just take the time to meet me they would see that I look much younger than my age would imply. If they would give me a shot they would see that I am never late, that I err on the side of being early, that I am impeccable in my appearance and in my work ethic. They would see that he can help their brand, their product, succeed.
We are losing our house. We have been aware of the possibility for some months now, but we held on to every ray of hope, grasping with everything we have, but in the end…disappointment. Yes, we need to downsize, but not like this, not without a choice. This house that we worked so hard on, working to make it a home has become yet another weight pulling us down. We could do as some do and stay, stay and not pay and wait, but that isn’t us. We are ethical people, we are people who do the right things the right way, but that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. It has hit us hard, but it is time to go. She’s gone missing, the girl who was finally finding her way, who was discovering the passion long since lost, she is gone. She is buried under the moving boxes and the dwindling finances. Buried under the stress and the worry, the sleepless night and nightmares. Stress and worry do terrible things to people. At night she reaches over to feel the movement of her husband’s breath rising and falling because she has lost so much that she is worried that the one she loves the most will disappear. There is no work tonight, there can’t be. The weight of our situation has filled my head and heart, there is no room for creativity for the moment.
I told my sister the other day that it is like a seesaw. One day Dan is down and I am up, assuring him that all will be OK, the next day it is me hitting rock bottom grasping his offered hand to pull me back up. Now we are adrift in our life, hanging onto each other looking for the hope that will keep us afloat. Situations like this can tear people apart, not us, we just hold on tighter. Next Tuesday is our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. It won’t be the celebration I dreamed of. Twenty-five years ago we were broke and decided to get married, twenty-five years later and things haven’t changed much. It would be funny if it weren’t so sad. So we move on. We sell this house and take half of the money and roll the dice on our future, our business. There is one thing I still believe in, that’s us. I hope to have the opportunity to show people who we are, and how much we care.
I mentioned our business before, I’ve asked before, and I’m going to do it again. Our daughter set up an account to help us in our dream. If you are in any way inclined our appreciation would be immeasurable. I’m posting the link once again.

http://www.gofundme.com/8jgl04

I will post a photo. A piece I did in Photo shop. It was meant as a gift to a friend. So many people in our lives have reached out with love, with prayers, with much appreciated financial help. I am a person who is quiet in their faith. Some people take that as non-belief, it isn’t, I pray every day. I pray not for my house or “stuff”, I pray for answers, I pray for those I love, I pray to understand. Hopefully someday I will.
Gratitude

Back In The Saddle Again

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It has been six days again. I know I said I would post twice a week, but much going on in my life and no time to write. Our daughter heads East later this week, lots to pack for her, and the Chicago Blackhawks are in the playoffs, so of course that takes precedence…We actually found a local pizza restaurant, a franchise from Chicago, and honestly it felt like being back home when we went to watch the games. Chicago is full of little neighborhood bars, the kind where everyone knows everyone. This is much the same. It felt nice and nostalgic, and of course the hockey and deep dish pizza weren’t bad either.

My cheesy title tonight refers to yet another tabletop for our bookstore. I had posted one some months back for little girls, a checkerboard with fairies on it. Tonight it is all about the boys. I had an idea, and I am happy to say it came to fruition beautifully. A western themed board, which is particularly appropriate here in Temecula. This is a town from the Old West. Another unfinished piece from the home improvement store. Preliminary sketches on the first pic.

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Now the finished wood burned piece.

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And finally a shot of the finished piece.

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I’m really enjoying these pieces. I love the effect of the wood burning and the pearl paint (although my burnt fingertips would say otherwise!), the plan is to continue to work towards the business, and in the process the furniture. As much hand painted by me as possible.

No complaints tonight. I was right, Dan was right, working makes me happy. I feel my stress melting away with every piece, and that is a very good thing.

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…

Cheese platter (4)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything but the bread made from scratch.

Finding My Way Back

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Three days since I last posted. The honest truth is that I just haven’t been feeling much in the way of creativity. Not that I need to continue to pound in just how precarious our situation here is. Speaking of pounding…I hit myself in the hand with a hammer, that doesn’t help with creativity either. We had workmen here in our garden several years ago, and to make a long story short, they messed up, we caught them, they gave us a “special” finish on the concrete paths on either side of our house as way of making amends. Now the special finish is bubbling up and chipping off. It almost feels as though you are walking on broken glass. Me, being the industrious me that I am, decided to chip it off with a chisel and a hammer just to see if I could. I can, and I can also miss the top of the chisel and hammer my hand instead. OUCH! Fortunately it was not broken, it is just very badly bruised and hurts quite a bit.

I decided tonight that I needed to be here in front of this keyboard. I haven’t been posting, and I haven’t been working. I’m in a funk, and that isn’t good. This project has helped me quite a bit in the last year. I need to keep going. I keep trying to convince myself that we don’t have it as bad as so many people, but faced with the day-to-day of watching our life fall apart somehow those sentiments don’t make much of a difference. There were times when we were younger and poorer. The key word being younger. Starting over when you are young can be exciting, starting over when you are our age is terrifying. We’ve hit a few snags on the road to the shop, but we are looking at other ways to approach the situation. There will always be unexpected challenges when opening a business, we are prepared to deal with them.

I started working late tonight. The Blackhawk’s were playing so we were out to see the game. (They won, Yea!) It was after nine when I began to paint. I mentioned a few months back that our son had moved out. I had painted an abstract for Brian, but I wanted to give him something else. This one is for him. It isn’t even halfway done, but I feel like I have a good start. Frank Zappa from the cover of a record. It doesn’t look enough like him as of yet, but I am only forty-five minutes into the painting. It’s after ten now, so Frank will have to wait until tomorrow to look more like himself.

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One more mention of our business. I’ve designed the logo. It is of Riley, the oldest of our three cats. I will also again say if you are so inclined to help us in our endeavor it would be appreciated more than I can say. Jessica started a crowd-funding option for us. Just click on the link below.

The Curious Cat Books & Bistro

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.gofundme.com/8jgl04