Churp, Churp

Been almost 6 months

2011-07-30T15:56:00.003-05:00

I'm a half a year older. How about you?

My birthday is next week. I'll officially be 49 and holding.

Bea and I are still struggling, but at least I'm getting a trip to Europe for my birthday. Last year, it was Vegas, which wasn't what I would have exactly chosen. Then seven months later, it was Vegas again for her birthday. I put my foot down and she listened. I chose the places and excursions. Of course, she thinks I should be grateful. I am, but you know what I mean. I'm not much for hand outs.

She has moved with her room mates virtually across the street from me. So far, it's been fine. She's been a carry out chef several times, which I have enjoyed. The difference between her living 2.5h or even 30 min away is that booty calls and sleep overs happen more for her interests than mine. I desperately need my sleep and sleeping with her doesn't provide me a restful night, plus I actually have a kid and a schedule and a life. Also, I'm pretty bored at her place. I am always busy here and am in control of the remote, computer, painting... I am quite happy as an introvert. She and her room mates like crime and blood and jail and yucky reality TV on the tube. It's no wonder people don't rise about life's circumstances when they immerse themselves in such.

Sorry if that was a judgment. Although some people squirm at the thought of presenting a judgment, I am of the opinion that having an opinion is fine. Stating that opinion is fine, too. Her room mates are nice enough people, but are lowlifes. Sorry, but they are. I just choose to surround myself with upstanding citizens. Judgment, again, too bad. It's not that I don't have a heart, it's just that I don't sell myself and my goals short. When you're motivated, people like that judge you, too. And so it goes.

In a strange turn of events a few months ago. P sent me a friend invitation on FB. Could have knocked me over. I didn't bite and emailed from a different account instead, saying I hope he and his family are doing well, plus that my SO wouldn't cotton to him as my FB friend. True, but I didn't want it either. I mentioned that for almost two years I've seen the stats where he's been checking my various blogs, so I know he's kept up with me. I was very glad to find a way to get that nugget of knowledge to him and he hasn't visited since. Alas, but my birthday is the same as his daughter's and that has been his trigger to visit in the past.

My son is almost 14 and going on three. I met with a school psychologist for him this summer and I really feel like I have the tools and confidence to make some headway with him and his school. Maybe they'll listen to me this time as I show them his Interim grades which kicked me in gear each quarter and made me research/practically do his projects and homework and/or bring issues up with teachers who allowed him to turn stuff in a month late and/or begin after school tutoring. I'm going to confess that I push for him to work and I wind up lending more structure than I should, but the kid will not start it for himself. Once started, he's much better, but I know nothing when the teachers fail to communicate with me. I have begun to wish that his ADD had an H thrown in there for fun so that people would actually see him misbehaving and he would receive the attention he needs.

I still have cat #5 and he should go back to the HSoc, but I still can't bear to have them and his errant urin.ation put to sleep. Hey, it's only been nine months he's been incubating here! He's made a lot of progress, but then there are set backs, which include repeatedly taking my beautiful Et.han Allen bedspread to the laundromat. Fucker.

The next month is quite big, in addition to the trip. I have a solo show and have been doing backflips for it. Of course, why else would I do a blog entry other than procrastination?

Mandatory optimism & cheerfulness

2011-02-07T19:27:00.003-05:00

First off, I have not read my reader since I committed to reading my reader. Sorry.

I very much enjoy you peeps on FB. If I know you, let me know. I haven't messed up once. Plus, I am a Mafia Wars freak and have close to 1500 friends, so you'll blend in nicely.

I had a chilly convo with my mother this weekend, her complaining that it'd been three weeks. I was rather subdued already, which was nice, b/c I wanted a bit of aloofness. I have this really bad habit of warming up and putting on a show. Can't keep the charm down, even when I should. At the end, she offered up a big pause and then said that if I needed something, to let her know. I really hate asking or groveling. I'm much better at being chatty and tap dancing. For the record, she did truly call to carry on about the new entertainment unit they got to go along with their new 55" TV, how wonderful it is, big it is, etc ad nauseum. If you'll recall, in December I went through similar with her new kitchen appliances. It depresses me the ease my parents have and the sacrifices I went through for it. Goodness knows, besides college and a rood, they didn't provide for me.

Money makes me want to vomit.

Similar is going on with Bea. She throws money at the world, then chides me for buying $100 worth of art supplies every few months. I feel like a second class citizen. I feel like I have earned her trust, but she still wallows. A while back, I mentioned here how she snooped on my computer and even forwarded them to herself. I long ago deleted the offending emails from Lyd and Richard, but Bea now quotes from them when the opportunity arises, hence she doesn't trust me enough to let down her guard. Suffice it to say that it was a very difficult weekend. It is equally difficult to admit that I love her, while the other side of my brain screams L.I.N.E. (I want a tattoo of a simple line) for love is not enough.

I first came up with that concept five years ago. Can't believe it's been so long that P's been out of my life. Well, not all the way out. About 1.5 years ago, he started visiting my art blog. Remembering my birthday set him off. Sometimes he'll visit a couple times in a month. Sometimes three or four will go by. He visited last August for my birthday, then I didn't hear from him. I was kinda relieved. Of course, today he visited. Then he saw my notice for my photography blog, and although it isn't long yet, he went through every page. Although I never intended it as such, there was bait: two photos so far were taken with him by my side. More will follow b/c I have it programmed way out. I guess this probably means he'll come back. Alas. I just don't want him to know that I know.

In the two or three days I didn't phone Bea over the weekend (we had screaming matches on fb email instead), I really missed our telephone routine and stuff. We have a great hang out factor. She wrote me that she wants a partner, not someone to hang out with. I told her that having a good hang out factor is a priority to me and of utmost importance. I would miss that. I cannot be friends with exes so as to preserve hanging out. P had a great hang out factor. We only fought about once a year, but the frustration he brought me has made me fight like a loud, gesticulating Italian.

Hanging out vs. L.I.N.E.

I'm all for compromise; I'm nearing (sigh) 50 and I know the world isn't perfect, have to accept that. She's so young that she still sees roses and white picket fences. She's going to need to compromise, b/c I'm about as compromised as I'm going to get.

~~~

I really enjoyed this video. Check it out. It is my world view set to cartoon.

Nothin' much

2011-02-02T18:42:00.001-05:00

Things have been going much better.

I've only spoken to my mother once.

I have not spoken to my father again. His sister dared to declare yesterday in FB that she was meeting my father today regarding some of their mother's papers; she needed to sign some things. My sister asked what and my aunt tap danced out of it. I would love to stir up some trouble and get my sister in inquire about today so that I am not seen constantly as the greedy one.

I am back on my computer, but I am still without a printer. Have gone to Kinkos a couple times to print, but I'm realizing how much I have not needed a printer.

Bea and I are getting along much better and I am much happier.

My son and I had some rockiness and I took away his xbox for about three weeks. I waited for him to come up with his own solution and he decided that that last week he had to be polite to me. He was, so I realized that his attitude is a choice, not hunger or hormones. When he got the console back, I made it clear that I am on to him. Even better, he has come when I called, etc. since them. We've made pizza a a couple times and are crazy hooked on Chutes and Ladders. I like this version of him.

Besides touching up an old painting of my wonderful old cat, I have done no painting since Oct or Nov. Usually working outside, I really don't like working from photographs inside. To make up for it, I have been active in installing new exhibits and have begun a daily photography blog. Tomorrow, I am going to be a judge of HS kids portfolios for a society's scholarship prize. All of these are great resume-building things, so that's great, but I am losing painting confidence. Alas.

Redbox calls. Seen any good movies lately? I really like how Redbox sends the Tuesday email of new releases and you can easily reserve yours online, movies to pick up by the next night by 9pm. Great system, although it lacks my ever lovin' indies.

Computers and I do not get along, among other entities

2011-01-04T20:31:00.001-05:00

This post will be lovely. My computer got major viruses again, the fourth time in a year, to the tune of over $800 total. The last time was off the m effin HP website when I tried to download a printer driver for a borrowed printer due to my printer dying. The last two weeks, I've been using my son's new laptop. Not only did I lose (it was kitty tussle as one ran across the keyboard) the A key on my the precious laptop given by his father, this evening the Enter key just plain died. The switch below the key is broken, so this will be a post wil no Enters. Awkward indeed. Oh, add to that no PW for the Parental Controls, meaning no downloading of goodies like Firefox (or Adobe or anything) and you will truly see what a poor speller I am. That or it's a whole heap o' typos..........................Went to my mother's before Xmas for five days, which was four and a half days too long, although I kept face about it. Without an Enter key, I am blissfully unable to go into full detail, but suffice it to say 1) she hangs in the garage in the steam and salt of FL a very worthy watercolor I professionally framed for her about 25 years ago (in her two bedroom house, she couldn't "find" it last time I inquired a year ago), a large cross stitch I created and professionally framed about 15 years ago, and a professionally framed antique doily made by her grandmother (one of four we'd given to her, us, my grandmother, and my sister) about 20 years ago, then she dared to play dumb that any of it was at issue in her fucking garage; 2) when I confided in her that we often lack food at the end of the month, she later let it slip that she'd consulted her coworkers (who'd I'd only met the day before, as I was quite aware that they knew more about me than me them b/c that's how she rolls) about my 'monthly thing,' this from the woman who has spent several thousand on new kitchen appliances and used money "SHE" inherited from my grandparents while my sister and I have yet to receive a thing and we both go hungry. Sooooo, suffice it to say that the painting I brought her as her gift will be her last one..................................On to my father who called after Xmas - he knows we're impoverished and I am quite sure his mother's life insurance has been paid, but he would never fess up to it being appropriate to pass it along. During his call which served to make me ill on several accounts, he had the nerve to inquire in his ever coy fashion, b/c he feels it's not really any of his business, how exactly is this art thing going for me, although it isn't his business in his own words and he really seemed to believe I should give it up, as the undercurrent. He about swallowed his tongue when I said I'd sold 20 paintings in the last year. Yeah, Pops, I might be poor b/c framing, supplies, and workshops are expensive, but I am pretty good at what I do, even if you wife only appreciates hidious hyperrealistic swamp scenes and has a couple (think coastal Kincaid) in each room................................Heck, I'm good enough to hang in the Garage Gallery. Actually I was just juried into my second gallery and they are thrilled to show my work..................................Bottom line: it is very difficult not even having the support of one's parents, be it professional, financial, or emotional............................. I look forward to returning to therapy after the holidays on tomorrow..........................Bea has been behaving. We've spent a lot of time together and it has been good.

I love Prudie

2010-12-16T13:52:00.000-05:00

Dear Prudence,
My boyfriend of two years says that he will not ask me to marry him unless I take a lie detector test to pinpoint the truth about certain things that have gone on in our relationship. I have been faithful and honest to him throughout the time we have been dating, with the exception of getting caught in some white lies about things that occurred before we were together. He says that if I have lied about little things, then I could lie about big things, and he needs to know he can trust me. I've always been of the mind-set that what happened before you were with your partner is not really their business and doesn't affect the relationship. I refuse under any circumstances to take the test. I've made sacrifices and compromises to keep him happy, but his request is completely unreasonable, isn't it? Is it a sign of overall problems? What should I do?

—Am I Crazy?

Dear Crazy,
Your boyfriend is onto something. Before committing to marriage, I think everyone should have their sphincter activity monitored in response to important questions. That way, you establish a baseline of trust. So surely your boyfriend would be willing to be hooked up to a lie detector and asked the following: "Are you a pathologically controlling sicko?" "Do you think of yourself as more of a boyfriend or parole officer?" "In your best judgment, would marriage to you be a living hell?" I'm going to assume that you got caught in some "white lies" because your boyfriend was prying about previous lovers and you knew from experience that if you gave him any names, you would be mercilessly grilled. You should have just told him, "This is none of your business." But as you've discovered, the longer you stay with a crazy, manipulative person, the more you lose touch with normal behavior and begin to doubt your own sanity. Your boyfriend has done you a great favor by insisting on the lie detector. This has revealed to you that the most important question to be asked is the one you put to yourself, which is "What did I ever see in this lunatic?"

—Prudie

Yesterday, I forgot to relate a rather morose detail from the weekend. She's been upset at my lack of sex, swearing my menopausal behaviors to actually mean I am cheating. This weekend, I decided to put my brain over my body and give instead of receiving. When she asked if she could touch me (I never let guys touch me when doing them, either, b/c then I begin to think about that and not them and become selfish), I told her no, that she was the focus. She got angry. I said I was starting my period and I just wasn't interested in me.

Then she said it.

"Let me see your tampon."

It's a classic line I will get to use in couple's therapy as I regain dignity. My therapist was aghast when I told her yesterday. There is some entertainment value, anyway.

Email hostage

2010-12-15T19:54:00.002-05:00

Although her paranoia certainly predated the more severe version of the recent past, I finally found out the real cause this weekend, beyond her paranoia related to having a lifetime of female scoundrels in her presence, people who lie and cheat with abandon, people who have AIDS and do not inform partners, people who routinely engage in illegal activities that Bea seems to condone, with Bea also doing some illegal crap in there to boot.

So, when she read my email folders at least a year ago as I stupidly left the computer on (hmmm, I should review the blog for the dates), there was more in them than I recalled. After I'd learned she read anything from Richard or Lyd, I deleted everything, so I had no concept of what she read.

That's where she and I differ. I learned this weekend that she has them ... and I don't. During her foray, she forwarded all the emails to herself. She claims to have *only* read them five or six times, but she seems to have them committed to memory.

I have readily admitted to my transgressions here and I honestly admit that all were not transgressions to me. However, I have been nothing but faithful to Bea, although I do understand how one could be driven to cheat now.

So she's read and re-read my emails, has gone through my computer's pictures, has routinely gone through my phone, and a vertical folder of old and personal cards, etc, but somehow I am the bigger scoundrel in this b/c I had a life before her. I keep reminding her to wait another 20 years and see what kind of stuff she winds up doing after broken marriages, engagements, plus dashed dreams of additional children and my own picket fence. Yeah, one tends to react to life when one fights with all of one's might not to just hide under a rock. My life didn't go the way I wanted, so I carved out another life. I have succeeded on my own.

Life. That's my concern. She has Richard's email address, so she has both his name and his recognizable work location. How much of his life is she willing to wreck over two incidents that do not affect her in the least? Over a person I have not spoke to in over a year and a half?

My therapist asked why I would be willing to go through couple's therapy with her. I replied that some ego is involved. I'm not a bad person. I am not how she paints me. My therapist and Bea as well wonder who she knows b/c it obviously isn't me. Well, I deserve some validation about that. I'm not the bad guy here and I don't deserve to be treated as such.

When I asked her to delete the emails, she said she only would after we take them to therapy. She wants a firing squad and I have no idea if she has or has not sent them on to other email accounts just to dodge her promise to delete them.

Things aren't good, but my back is against the wall here. I have to find a couple's therapist.

I want to connect with you

2010-12-07T11:06:00.001-05:00

I think I am out of touch and I really don't like it. My Google Reader is great, but it is so large and cumbersome that I don't know who I read anymore. It is not up to date or reflect who I want to follow..

If you have a blog I should be reading, let me know. For every one I add, I'll take another off.

A dilemma

2010-12-01T18:49:00.003-05:00

So I have the opportunity to reunite for lunch (routinely) with at least half a dozen moms from the moms group I was a part of a decade ago. Back then, I was very active, a leader, and a guest speaker twice. For part of it, I was married, but essentially single, and for the rest I was actually single. I left after about five years when my membership was up and my enthusiasm had whittled down. Mostly, my son had started school and I had little in common with new members and their new babies.

Therein lies the rub.

A number of this lunch club spit out babies at will or several had them by accident. One in particular (loathe is too nice a word) trapped her poor husband into procreating without appropriate notice for her last two...out of five. At an after-meeting with just her, another mom, and me, I once told her that I could hit her in the face after another one of her rubs. And I could have. She knew I suffered with infertility and yet took every chance she could to remind me of her fertility.

Sorry, but I tell few that I am atheist, however if you carry on about your religion to me repeatedly in a holier than thou fashion as if it is the only life choice, I will offer an alternative viewpoint. Strongly.

In either situation, I am strangely viewed as the bad guy, which is something I am trying to prevent this time. See, I was the poor single mom who did not have a hubby daddy to buy me a McMansion and a Lexus. Fine, I don't see any of that changing. What did change, though, in addition to many years of reading and crying with infertility blogs, was my art emphasis, my professionalism, and my esteem.

In fact, the only reason I learned these moms still get together was because the nicest among them saw my art at my gallery over Thanksgiving and took the time to look me up and email. Then she asked if I'd be interested in lunch, which of course should not be as earth-shaking as it feels.

Bea accuses me of too much self promotion, considering it akin to attention seeking, but I call it appropriate marketing b/c I am a small business. If I were to go to a lunch with them, I would have to let the babies, riches, new cars, and grand houses all fall to the side, b/c I would get to toot my own horn about something special I was born with and am taking the time to capitalize on. I would not care about their viewing my art or a sale and would never elaborate on the snicker-value of sexual orientation. I just would want them to know that I am in national shows, win awards, get juried in exhibits routinely, and have my own juried gallery position(s). (There may be another coming.)

The art part feels good. Revisiting infertility, or rather the massive fertility of others, does not. Which would you choose?

I feel like it's getting to me

2010-11-15T11:36:00.003-05:00

I am beginning to drown, even as I fight it so hard. I fear the darkness coming.

There's too much stress.

The kitchen drain. I can't pay for a better plumber than a kitty litter bucket. Someone (a lawyer) actually clicked "like" on fb when I put that lament. People really don't understand when your house is falling down around your head.

The horrible appliances. On Sunday, my mother called to brag about her new ones being delivered next week. She did a complete and beautiful remodel a few years ago when she bought this new place, so this has been in the works. Her call came only days after I commented to her that I am sick that my parents and grandparents all have had standards of living higher than mine. She replied that hers is higher b/c of her inheritance from her mother. And I am left to wonder why I got none. Why I am always deprived. Why I am left out. Why is my stove from 1979? I don't invite any of them up and they take it personally. Maybe I should flip that thought and invite them so they can see how hard we have it.

Bea thinks I think I deserve too much.

My life's watchword is deprived. I don't get what I want, even all along from the people who were supposed to care for me. It makes me more ambitious and it is held against me in different ways.

No flooring. Have largely been without carpet downstairs for six or seven years. Yes, concrete is just lovely. And warm. Fuck this county and their fucking flood they would not own up to causing.

Parents with all they want and no consideration for their children, except for peanut incentives. It's not so hard to think of my father that way, b/c he doesn't care, but it's hard to think of my mother throwing scraps my way in the form of airline tickets to visit her, which is darned self-serving.

Spending so much on going to the funeral. And it took so much from me physically - almost two dozen hours of driving. My father gave me $50 for gas and I told him it would cover about half; he seemed surprised at that somehow and I was bewildered at his surprise. Then the next day, he gave my sister $50 for gas, but hers cost less than $10, so it wasn't for gas and I wasn't special or actually being cared for. He spent about $100K on his back yard in the last year w/the outdoor room, garage, and workshop. He's living it up! He does not care about me, just that I show my face at his mother's funeral.

Spending so much on trying to display paintings. In the past few weeks, it's another $100 to make coverings for the display panel racks. And more frames, especially small ones for small works. Damn Michael's coupons and double coupons.

Peanuts. My needs are peanuts. Honestly.

Still needing to make panel covers.

Coordinating the holidays w/o success. My mother wants us down, but J goes to his father's at noon on Xmas, so it is limited. Bea flew into a rage when my mother called to ask us down. Bea never communicated what she wanted beforehand and I was noncommittal with my mother; last year, Bea went to my mother's and then left me in a huff the week after to go to the Bahamas for a week. I cannot depend on her. I do not trust her. Yet, I am supposed to keep her on the list of people to juggle and please.

She thinks she's supposed to come first and that's what normal couples do. I'm here to say that my marriage revolved around visiting his maternal grandparents, his mother, his father if we could find him, his other grandfather if we could fit him, my mother, my father, and my grandparents. And this was supposed to be a fun holiday or even a quick weekend! It was not fun for us. It was for them and they expected two visits each time we went to our hometown! It's how life is. At least they were all in the same town and gas was cheap.

I am not Christian, people. Xmas is not my holiday. I do not care anymore and my only expectation is to not have to be unexpectedly alone.

Trying to do what everyone else wants. I am lost in this. Today I had it thrown in my face that she'll ask about getting together and I'll say that I need to ck my schedule, that her living closer means we should see each other more. Heck, she can come to any drop off, pick up, or Opening she wants to! She's mad at me when she excludes herself!

It isn't out of meanness for me to check my calendar. It is out of consideration. It is what normal people do. Her schedule is not normal and mine is sparse, but I do, for example, need to deliver and pick up paintings according to others' schedules. This week, besides therapy and my son's school schedule, it is a relatively busy one in that I have a drop off on Tuesday evening, a pick up Thursday evening, and a combo on Saturday. All told, it's less than six hours max and completely reasonable. If at all possible weather-wise, I will paint out with a friend, so my official work hours total less than 10 for the week, because I can squeeze in painting fixes/finishing anytime and I don't need to begin framing again until next week. My stuff is flexible and, if it isn't, it doesn't take too long.

I am ambitious. I have been showing less than two years. I average 1-2 sales per month. That's pretty damn good. I sure would appreciate support instead of competition and jealousy about it.

Bea's current fb status.

“Those who do not hate their own selfishness and regard themselves as more important than the rest of the world are blind because the truth lies elsewhere”

Apparently I am selfish and pompous and blind, b/c my mother wants us to come down two years in a row, b/c I paint out with a friend about twice a month on Thursdays, b/c I participate in art shows which actually influence little else and take little time, b/c b/c b/c. I honestly feel like the most unselfish person in the world. I cannot fathom if I had a 50h+commute job each week.

I wrote her a note and said her status must be about herself, b/c I am not selfish in the least.

Wanting happiness and thinking I'd be successful at it if alone, but sadness and frustration win over. I had a fb conversation with an old guy friend from hs. His sister and mother have died over the past few years. When his sister was ailing, one of her friends got her claws into my friend. He resisted for a very long time, but wound up being grateful for her caregiving. Now he's miserable and it's been something like four years; his mother's been gone a year. He's suffered significant losses, yet felt such responsibility to this stalkerish woman, whom he cannot please. Now he feels like he's had enough and I commented that the holidays make it tough. He said it would be January. I agreed, for me, although I probably said the same thing last year. In my case, when it's good, it's good, but I never know what's lurking. And then it's bad.

I always seem to manage on my own. Deprived and depraved, I muddle through. I am not stronger or happier. I am just surviving, but it's getting to me.

New Kid on the Block

2010-11-09T13:48:00.001-05:00

We got a new cat. He and his already adopted sister were rescues turned into the Humane Society several months ago when his owner was going away for a mere 10 days. He's solid black and three years old. He's huge, but skinny. He could be formidable if he tried. However, he doesn't try. I call his digs in J's bedroom "The Presidential Suite" b/c Malc takes all his meals, toileting, and bedding in J's room.

We always try to introduce cats slowly, leaving them alone in J's room for two days. By then, everybody can't wait to meet. Problem is, Malc was too slow to change gears and the others are now ignoring his repeated hisses, choosing to chase him back into his room instead. The others were very gracious and sweet in their efforts for over a week.

We got him b/c he was accustomed to living with and sharing a cage with other cats, but he's not a cat's cat.. He was also very affectionate with the HS staff. If I go to the top bunk, he is also affectionate with me. He purrs and flops around, but I've not pet him outside The Presidential Suite, although he has left it a few times for little bits.

I hope he comes around soon. It's been two weeks. At least this is better than Memph, who lived under my bed for 9 months. Bea suggested closing J's door and forcing Malc out, but I'd rather he be where he feels safe and I know his alternative would be under my bed. BTDT.

In short, Malc really likes his new, big, Presidential cage. I think he is happy. He's a sweet and well-behaved cat. Also J always wanted a cat to be *his* cat and I think Malc is vying for the title.

Hello and goodbye

2010-11-02T17:11:00.001-05:00

First off, Val, it is lovely to hear from you. I actually bought an envelope for your stuff in past few days. Here's hoping I can use it for you soon. Very sorry about the funeral, but it sure is cool and fitting somehow to set off to one by horse.

Secondly and on a similar note, my grandmother is dying. I am thrilled I pushed for J and I to go down to visit her and the rest of the family in August.

This was her conversation with J ad infinitum. No, I meant ad infinitum::
Grandma: How old are you, J?
J: I am 12, 13 next month.
Grandma: What grade are you in?
J: I will be going in the 7th grade next month.
Grandma: Oooooo, I remember 7th grade. It was really hard.

Or, for a little variety:
Grandma: How old are you, J?
J: I am 12, 13 next month.
Grandma: What grade are you in?
J: I will be going in the 7th grade next month.
Grandma: Oooooo, I remember 7th grade. It was really easy.

Seriously. And J was such a good sport. Wish he were so nice to me.

I guess I just had the feeling. Then she had pneumonia in September, seemed to be over it, but is now shutting down from it and heart failure, hospitalized last week. My father and aunt plan to remove everything but the morphine tomorrow. I remember ex's grandmother lived over three weeks with no food or water before she died, but I hope mine doesn't hold out that long.

My grandmother was the youngest of five children. Her father abandoned the family when she was just over a year old. It was the mid-1920's, but it wasn't the Roaring Twenties. Times were tough. Her mother worked in a cotton mill and it was a great day when her brother brought them some food or shoes; he and his wife were the family infertiles and I guess other family members reaped the benefit.

My grandmother got married at 15, the last out of the household, pushed from the nest early. My grandfather was six years older and died four years ago. Back then, in the throes of early Alzheimer's, my grandmother was not a picnic. Usually rather insincere and playing favorites, she was never a picnic, really. He said of her before he died, "Her.mean.has.mean."

After two years of marriage, they had my father. Six years later, his sister was born. I learned a few years ago why the childbearing was sparse between them. I'd wondered if it were a case of secondary infertility, but it wasn't. She wanted another and he didn't. (I wonder why?) When she threatened to leave, he anted up.

I have J this weekend, in case there is a funeral. My father already offered up that it would be on a weekend and I am grateful for that. I just hope my sister doesn't yell at me like she did before my grandfather's funeral. As tough as I am, I've had enough yelling of late.

I guess it's over

2010-10-29T21:23:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure if I'm relieved, but I sure am stunned.

I went over there early this morning so I could go to her follow up appt after surgery two weeks ago. She'd had an allergic reaction and vomiting; the surgeon didn't communicate anything about it, either to me with the post-op interview or to us at the appt. The only way we knew anything was because we'd asked for the surgical report during the part of recovery I could be with her. Of course, I'm good at questioning doctors, so I offered up my services. And she was very interested in my being there.

Sounds break up-worthy, huh? I was doing her a favor.

After the appt, we went for breakfast and then we were going to a movie. On the way, my phone rang. It was Lyd, so I just silenced it. Turns out, that means to Bea that I have something to hide. We were 10 minutes into the movie when she said we needed to leave. Once out, she verbally attacked me about me being untrustworthy and that I was cheating on her, if only by sexting or phone sex. This diatribe was to include the revisiting a guy who I thought was a painting sales lead who called a few weeks later to ask me out; she actually thinks that if she had not witnessed the call that I'd have done him. I find all this really insulting and dealing with her baggage is beyond old.

I kept waiting on it to blow over in one of her moods, but she kept at it, so I left. In fact, I believe her old therapist drove several hours today to comfort her. (cough - this therapist is personal and talks of her own life - so wrong) Then Bea wrote she is going to see a hypnotherapist this weekend. She spoke of taking a trip without me again; the last time was the Bahamas. She spoke of drastic and quick personal turn arounds. I just don't think her capable.

She would not pick up the phone, so I left her a couple phone messages. In one, I replied about one of her emails. She is hooked on me, has even called herself obsessed. She generally behaves fine around me, so I don't worry about it. Mostly, I think she's needy. So today she spoke of this addiction and I replied that she has me up on a pedestal, so perfect that I could never live up to her image of me. Then when I am absolutely human (although not guilty), she gets angry b/c I don't live up to the dream.

It has been wrong for me to try to accommodate her. She is always so demanding.

Several weeks ago, she told me that she started taking prenatal vitamins. By ultrasound, they determined she has an oddly-shaped uterus and said that five days after her next cycle begins, she would be scheduled for an HSG. That's on Monday. I will not be there due to art sales stuff, but I'm pretty sure I would not have gone. I do not support this or her timing of it. She's only 30; she could wait.

As far as me going to the wild parties she in her paranoia ranted about, I guess she forgets I am a mom and I talk to her a dozen times a day on the phone. And oh? the sex? that stuff we rarely do? yeah, I could care less. I am menopausal. Sex is a turn off. I need to change my byline, which I would miss more that I miss sex. That is one absurd charge against me.

Wee hours

2010-10-27T06:10:00.001-05:00

I woke up at 1:30. Unusual for me, I actually opened my eyes to look at the clock.

Two hours later, I was still awake, so I finally got up. Again, unusual for me to not wallow as long as possible in bed.

After I had maneuvered myself to try to sleep in a sitting position for my cough, I realized why I was buzzingly awake - another inhaler OD - so it's useless to stay in bed. I've had the cough get progressively worse over the last week and had only recently allowed the inhaler at my bedside again. (For years, I kept it in my pillowcase. Did you hear about the woman who stored hers there along side her .22 and she *thought* she was using her inhaler that night? True story. She lived.) I've also been exhausted and had a hard time getting up in the mornings, both presumably from my erratic thyroid and the heaviest period of my entire life - no exaggeration. Such is menopause - you might skip a month or three, but you're gonna pay.

So the inhaler OD just means I am jittery while I can simultaneously breathe. It's a trade off. I'll use the nebulizer, which I forget I have, when I come down.

Last night, I spoke to my mother about her exMIL, who she never liked. (See previous comments.) When I said I was contemplating a drive across several states to provide some respite care this weekend as my grandmother isn't expected to make it out of the hospital (which I believe is an exaggeration by the staff) due to a hypothetical "event" which will not mesh with her pneumonia or her new found (only by them and not communicated a month ago, not by her own cardiologist two weeks ago) heart irregularieis, my mother stridently said to take care of myself and my own interests, to include my opportunity for retail next week which only comes up less than once a quarter. As I responded to her, it's not the money for the week as much as it is the less fickle vestedness in the future for this opportunity. That and I've worked hard to be prepared.

Besides, she said, your grandmother would not have crossed the street for you, why do this for her?

And she was right. I'd felt guilty that I had not participated in her very healthy three years in nursing home care and I know the circumstances have worn on her two children, although my father has kept himself to a strict once a week visitation schedule until a month ago with her first hospitalization for pneumonia. However, she has three grandchildren within two hours; they are capable and much closer. I can't save the world.

I was really lucky, so to speak, having grandparents in my life for a long time. I had all four until I was past 30 and three until my mid-40s. It doesn't look like I'll make 50 with one, but not many do.

The rain started again. Maybe I can prop myself up for a few precious hours of sleep.

Beware, people

2010-10-24T10:36:00.001-05:00

Watch out for fb.

I spoke of the custody case which was the lowlight of my year. There's more.

Months ago, my father was new to fb and had few friends. Suddenly, ex showed up as a friend. To get my father to react to anything is impossible, but I kindly asked him to remove ex. My father instead said he disliked fb and was canceling his account. He didn't. He is an ass.

At least my father never uses fb. My father's sister and my sister do. And they comment on mine. And I just realized that ex had friended them. And some friends of mine from HS who were not his friend - ever.

My friends and family have been a conduit for information to my ex-husband. Silly banter can be misrepresented all sorts of ways and I am on guard that ex may put me through this shit again.

Today, I realized he'd friended my 16yo niece. He has no other reason to friend her except to get through to me.

He's an earwig. It's fb stalking and I do not have any of his friends or family on mine.

Now I am put in the awkward position to limit access for these people until they either unfriend him or severely limit his access. And I have to question the loyalty of all of my family. My father knew bout the lawsuit, but offered nothing. Let's see how the other opportunities for loyalty pan out. I don't have my hopes up.

Beware, people.

Busy work

2010-10-21T15:51:00.005-05:00

This is the season for small pieces of art. They're thought to be better for gift giving. Last year, my gallery did over $20K on little, inexpensive pieces the day after Thanksgiving. Further, last time I set up at the government building, I sold five small ones in two days; I'm glad to say I have two more gov't gigs in the coming weeks. Overall, I've sold about a dozen small works in less than a year; they help me keep my painting-a-month sales goal.

The tricky part is matching the things up as a unit. If you are provided a thin vertical space for your pieces to hang in a gallery, technically they're supposed to look good together. The problem for me has been that I feel that I cannot successfully put together 4-6 pieces that resemble each other and are framed appropriately together.

It can become more work than it's worth for a couple reasons. First off, I try to buy frames on sale all year, but I don't generally find or buy five at a time, so what I usually have isn't matched. I prefer them to not be all alike, but I realize the trend is for uncreative uniformity. Sigh. In some ways, I have to please both the gallery and the buyer.

Further, I only charge $75 for a 4x6, which is an appropriate price per square inch and is neither at the top nor bottom of the scale. Unfortunately, the gallery gets 40% of that, so I'm only pulling in $45, but the frame probably costs $6-10 and I actually getting only $30-35 due to the rest of framing do dads and other expenses.

Please remember that artists aren't getting wealthy off of sales, even that $2000 abstract piece you think could have been done by your toddler wrestling with the dog. Galleries will take up to 50%. And framing takes up a chunk of the other half. Calculate in shipping and $75 (or much more) specialized boxes for shipping to a national show. (My tiny 8x10 in a national show earlier this year was $45 for the box and $30 each way for shipping. And I would only usually have charged $275 for such a painting!) Hence, a dozen small pieces sold in a year barely covers my FIOS bill for a month, much less art supplies or additional training

The good news is that I discovered the solution this week to my cohesion problem. I had a large painting from a year ago that was just taking up space. I love the elements of it, but couldn't make it happen overall. It had long ago become a diminishing return on my time invested and this landscape met the chopping block today. I should get 6-8 paintings out of it and I will probably go back and adjust each so they have a good focal point to stand alone successfully. At least they will certainly blend together.

This time, I already had the frames b/c I went on a multi-Michael's binge earlier this year. That means I printed out coupons and went to a number of locations. I bought out all the decently cornered close out frames of a simple wooden style from four or five Michael's. I tell ya, the interstate is good for something - Michael's, Petsmart, and McDonalds are at most exits.

These days in this economy, small pieces are a great way to begin or expand an art collection. They fit in homes so full of windows that only little works can be hung. They flexibly collage together for larger spaces. And if they're not a gift for another, they're a small indulgence for yourself.

Support your local artists this season.

Busy

2010-10-17T16:14:00.001-05:00

Busyness is the perfect foil to introspection, but I am craving the introspection! I am currently in seven shows, thus spread pretty thin. Plus, I learned of more shows, one of which is the reward for an award I won over the summer. I have a lot of art to create in the next six weeks.

In the mean time, I've been intensely busy for over a week. Bea had surgery, but before that, her roommate had an old girlfriend come to visit. After much fighting for weeks, they pushed Bea out of the nest and Bea landed here for five days. The last day, she had a scheduled surgery for gall bladder removal. She was doing fine after. I tended her every step of the way. We'd planned it before a weekend I was not to have my son, but his father went to our hometown to help his mother with pacemaker surgery. He's still not back, so J had to go to Bea's for the weekend and her recovery. For once, I think TG for xbox.

Bea and her roommate have been best buddies for several years, but I guess they feed each other's drama. When it was time for the roommate to come back home after Bea's surgery and after a few days with her visitor, she claimed that the visitor missed her plane, was then on standby, and was then scheduled for the next day. Bea didn't seem to want J and I there for her roommate's return, her saying I was bored and restless - as I calmly laid on the bed watching TV - her making excuses and strangely putting words in my mouth, so I calmly began to pack to go home. Bea went off the deep end, as she is wont to do, and she carried my heavy art crate and a TV down the stairs in reaction. I guess it is self-injury as a justified response.

You can't help ignorance. Prior to that, she'd stuffed the trash full and got it ready to haul. She'd also fed/watered/let out her very large dog and stripped/remade her bed. The day before, she'd carried the TV upstairs. People who think being tough in such circumstances truly disgust me. She'd insisted she didn't need help and I was letting her have her way and leave, but I had no idea she'd go off the deep end doing stupid shit.

After I left, I received over a dozen texts. I was driving and had to ignore them at first, but I seriously resented the implication that I had not taken great care of her. She was hysterical. She also told me she peeled off one of her stomach bandages, a large patch b/c she'd experienced post-surgical bleeding. In a subsequent call, I tried to tell her that she's being crazy for attention, but she would not let me speak.

Next thing I know, she's overheated her food in the kitchen, dropped the plate, then fell on the juices. And that she's bleeding from the belly button incision from which she'd removed the bandage. And that she threw up with a little blood in it. And that her roommate and her visitor were taking her to the ER.

All of this, mind you, was in the absence of perc.ocet. She didn't like how it affected her, but the alternative has been ridiculous.

However, I am not falling for it. I'd planned to go back during the school day tomorrow. I was the perfect nurse. I will not feel bad about the care I gave or for leaving when she was pushing us out the door. She complained that I left too easily. I will complain that the plays games too easily. It wasn't the first time she put words in my mouth.

One of my responses to her texts was, "Drama." It felt so good to type... Not much longer.

Wish I could craft a joke about this...

2010-10-17T15:31:00.001-05:00

but the straight truth is just so damned good.

J's Interim grades came out recently. He has A's in English (his nemesis, or the teacher was, last year), Science, Strings, PE, and History. He has A- in Shop, and a B in Math.

Take that, you fucked up litigious ex-husband. Add to that, you fucked up litigious ex-husband, it's all in Honors classes.

Once again, I am vindicated. And I'm doing a happy dance over my son's success.

I'm crazy, but not that crazy

2010-10-07T07:19:00.001-05:00

When filling out eH/GHarmony, one has a number of chances to fill in the blank. Sometimes people will put, say, physical fitness in all the following categories:
The one thing I am most passionate about:
The most important thing I am looking for in a person is:
The three things which I am most thankful for:
The things I can't live without are:
The first thing people notice about me:
Some additional information I want you to know:

I want to say to them that I kinda got it after the first mention, but their profile got archived too quickly for that, because under Cricket's Gay Harmony's fictional heading, "Things I loathe," redundancy is right at the top.

This lady, however, didn't mention it twice and I give her kudos for that.

The things I can't live without are:
* My Beloved Pets Ashes

Why?

2010-10-06T16:05:00.003-05:00

I have stayed with Bea for any number of reasons.

I want to show her that there are honest people in the world who respect fidelity and uphold their vows.

I want to provide her with the comfort and security she deserves.

Because she does have a good heart under all this baggage, I want to mentor her to be her better self. I am not trying to change her, but I want her to better realize her potential and that of her son and her millions of dollars.

I want her to realize her dreams of travel and to know what it means to have a finer life.

I'll admit that I want her to turn some corner and decide that I am worth the financial investment, in addition to that of time and energy, so that I can be provided for the way I deserve. She's done such with others; she will again, besides with just her family, b/c she does provide for them.

And I do love her. Most days.

Something is especially strange, though. Bea acts as if she has no power and that I hold all the cards. She resents my schedule which revolves around painting dropping off, picking up, Openings, volunteering, meetings, and, last but not least, actually finding time to go outside and paint. I have curtailed so much on her behalf, especially when relating to weekend paint outs and workshops.

As it really stands, though, Bea holds all the cards. She dictates everything. My demands might be according to a time and date, but hers are pervasive of everything else. I remember reading an advice column long ago where someone complained of the elderly aunt, who complained that nobody listened to her. The columnist pointed out that the aunt was who was actually in charge b/c everyone hopped to it around her. I spoke of this with Bea and she absolutely disagreed, but all her rules make me hop and there's an imbalance of power.

Eventually, I need to talk about my lack of desire for sex and to figure out if it is circumstantial or hormonal.

I'm through for now. Of course, there's more, but I'm working over at the Harmonies this evening before Just Desserts comes on!

Trust

2010-10-05T09:20:00.003-05:00

This is a multi-faceted concept.

Bea's ghetto upbringing included one trustworthy woman - her father's mother. Her mother and three sisters are cheating, conniving, catting, untrustworthy versions of whores, as is every woman she's ever dated. Once she came into her money, her lack of confidence in this area only grew, but at least she was generous back then.

For these reasons and her unresolved baggage, I have given her some serious latitude. I think she has finally come to trust me and I want her to know that I am breaking up with her for her, not someone else. To clarify, it'll be when I think the time is right.

As far as the money goes, she had given an ATM card to remove thousands a day to her previous partner. Then, her generosity knew no bounds. With me, her generosity knows bounds very well; she makes promises that she will not keep. I have caught her in lies about fake orders and appointments, stuff that didn't need to be offered then lied about. Last year, she promised me a car and house. Now that she's up here, she's talking house again, but I refuse to bite, b/c I do not want my hopes up or to trust her. Further, she does not see anything wrong with her behavior.

Thinking herself generous toward me, she does strange things and plans trips far and wide, then brings no (or limited amount) cards and little cash. Even though we are pretty frugal, we quickly run out of money (once with her two aunts aboard), and I rob Peter to pay Paul to get us out of the jam, then she pays me back exactly the $113 she borrowed to feed her aunts. I shake my head on this. My friends think she has no money.

Same happened for my surprise birthday trip to Vegas recently. She brought little cash and I have no clue about cards b/c I HAD to hold my tongue to not explode b/c I had made one request ahead of time - to have enough money and not go hungry. Of course, we had one meal the last two days on a five day trip that overall actually had few costs, b/c we were frugal with gambling. Who the hell goes to gambling city and is an avid gambler and brings no money? I did have a great birthday, but the rest was pretty meh.

I don't get her. I ask little and get little. Maybe it's my fault.

So now you can see reasons I don't trust her. She is erratic and lacks logic. She swings and I never know where she'll land. Sometimes, though, her lack of trust lands her here. On my computer. In my computer. On my Internet.

I'll admit that part of the reason I didn't come here was my fear of her finding this blog. Now I've change the setting so that no history is saved.

I abhor leaving her here alone, but I do to show trust, then she violates it. You'd think I'd learn. Sometimes I leave home for art things. Whatever. Sometimes she's here for the weekend and I have to go.

In the past, she has looked through all my photos and documents. That was a while back, but one document haunted her and several months ago I had to face that music. Thinking health stuff, I maintained a list of the people I'd slept with, although the document wasn't labeled as such. She began quizzing me on it and I honestly.could.not.find.it. Regardless, the list of my past should not matter to her. Not one iota. However, that fire was lit and I try to keep her away from my computer with a password, but changing user, etc is hard to do on the fly sometimes without looking like you actually have something to cover up.

Generally, I log off all my accounts, even when on my own. I now have a fear of falling in the shower or getting in an auto accident and having my life exposed. I feel such Big Sister mortality now when surfing the Internet.

One day, I left in a rush and forgot to log out of my email. She went through it all. I used to keep everything, sort of as a personal record, but I have since deleted it all. She was particularly incensed about messages from Lyd, who is still a friend. This messages were from long ago and none of Bea's business.

Bea drives me crazy.

She also checks my phone for calls and texts. Over the summer, she found a text to Lyd saying, "next it'll be your hands." For the love of god! This brought days of fighting b/c I could not recall the context. Bea wanted me to do the blind, incriminating phone call thing where she listened in on a conversation where someone would potentially be set up. She'd demanded it before and I always refused. Sheesh, I'm not in HS!

So after about four days, as I was taking a shower, I touched my face and remembered the context. Lyd had traveled to a wedding. She was drunk and texted me that her nose was numb. Then the next text was her face being numb. And I figured it was radiating out and it'd be her hands next. Bea was officially foiled in her idea that I was having text sex, which I didn't even know existed.

You can tell how my life is with Bea. I am always looking over my shoulder and I could honestly do this much better if I were being rewarded somehow. Further, I can see how being with a person like this would cause someone to cheat. But I will not cheat. I will just go away, sooner rather than later.

Hence, my Gay Harmony dabbling to see if there are people like me out there. People who are not cheaters. People with culture. People with education. People with goals. People taking car of their own baggage. People who evolve.

Okay, one final thing. Bea still very much wants a baby and she thinks I'm a stellar mother and she wants to have it with me. She has it stuck in her head that I am over the diaper thing, but I actually fear getting close to a child who is whisk away haphazardly. I finally had the opportunity to relay this recently. I hope she is stewing over it. She has the white picket fence goal, but has the ghetto basis, so she hasn't a clue how to get what she wants. I could give her the white picket fence mentality, but I could not change her to embrace it. She's better at gazing in the window.

Who would have thought six years ago when I began this blog that a lesbian would want so desperately to have a baby with me? And tell me often? And that I'd be so ambivalent about the prospect? That I'd actually be very far away from it? That it skeeves me out to learn over the weekend that she's actually taking prenatal vitamins?

PS - she texted as I was finishing up. Just checked it. She asked if she could live here for a while if she needed a place to stay before she found another place to stay.

It makes my head explode.

I couldn't give an answer; I needed to discuss the circumstances. She refused, saying she just wanted an answer. Again, I am not in HS.

Harmony

2010-10-04T18:42:00.001-05:00

Last week, in order to confuse myself further with additional email addresses and passwords, I started up a new set to 1) take over where Bloglines left off and 2) take over where I already had a hetero e-Harmony subscription.

In my quest to figure out if there are people like me, as my therapist insists, I decided to do the gay e-Harmony, which I do not know the official name, so I call it Gay Harmony. It suits.

I was lucky to do it before their (meaning eH AND GH, although GH doesn't get the media exposure, of course) collective 10 days free. Not so much with the idea of meeting anyone, I have been in the stilted, laborious GH conversation mode with two women. At the "reduced" rate of $32/mo, I don't see me really joining, unless desperation sets in later. However, it would be handy to have access to their pictures!

Lest anyone think I'm shopping, I guess I am...in a way. I am mostly seeking affirmation that people like me exist - educated, articulate, art geeks who like to drink Sam Adams and watch Bravo on TV and never, ever watch a Lifetime movie. This is my dream and it could be a he or a she. It is not a particularly dreamy dream, but I'm not the flashy sort. I am not looking to substitute anyone with Bea and I would actually be upset if this worked ahead of my time line. However, over the weekend, it struck me for the first time how it would feel to hurt Bea, b/c I do make her happy. Of course, fear of anyone's hurt is no reason to stay in a relationship, but it is a consideration. Further, I wouldn't want to taint any new relationship with an overlap or vestiges from an old. Read below and you'll see how fair-minded I really am.

Both eH and GH use a personality profile. Because I haven't yet found BiH (BiHarmony for us bisexuals), I will take the results of eH and GH to heart, mostly b/c there's no difference between the two personality tests! We are not, I repeat not, worlds apart, even when a religious-based dating site has to accommodate *those* people. Either that or their expert psychologist is too lazy to create a new test.

I absolutely love some sections of the GH/eH report. I'll include them here for my own edification, but I'll share, too:
~~~~~
A General Description of How You Interact with Others

You are important. So are other people, especially if they are in trouble. You have a tender heart, but you know how to establish and keep personal boundaries. You are empathetic and compassionate, but you also believe that it's best if people solve their own problems and learn to take care of themselves, if they are able.

You are deeply moved by the needs of others, but you know that if you don't take good care of yourself, you'll wind up being of no use to anyone. So yours is a thoughtful compassion. You strive to be fair and sensible, taking care of others while also taking care of yourself.

When someone really is in trouble, you like to collaborate with them toward a solution; they do their part, you do yours. You consider carefully, and respond in a sensible way; they do their part, and together you move through the difficulty.

You seldom act impulsively; rather, when a problem arises, you take your time to think through the situation. This contemplative quality usually means that you'll arrive at a diplomatic solution, one that's fair for the other person and also fair to you. It's frequently a win/win situation.

A General Description of How You Approach New Information and Experiences

You think like an artist. Or better, you SEE like an artist. While most people look at life's straight lines, its height and depth and width, you're bending the lines with your imagination and turning black and white into shades of blue and yellow. And in conversations at work or with your friends you want to ask, "Do you see what I see?" A few might, most don't, but you've piqued everyone's curiosity with your own original and inventive ways of thinking.

You can, if you must, think in conventional ways. But left on your own, you'll usually opt for the eccentric or avant-garde; in fact you're usually bored with what everyone else is comfortable with. You learn from reading, talking, watching people and other fauna and flora, and simply sitting in the soft chair of your mind and wondering how people would learn how to count if they could only use uneven numbers. You are out in front of conventional ideas, bravely originally defining true and false, right and wrong, the good, the bad and the ugly.

A General Description of Your Reactivity

In some ways, you've got the best of emotional worlds. When emotions rise up from inside you or are brought forth from a conversation by a friend, you know how to engage them. You deal with sadness, fear, joy, anger - whatever comes up - in ways that are perceptive and flexible. You can adapt to whatever level of emotion is appropriate to the moment. At other times, you are able to cope with your emotions in a more reserved manner. Because you are aware of what does and does not make emotional sense in a particular situation, you will decide when it is an appropriate time to express your emotions and when it would be best to keep them to yourself.

All of this gives you a rich emotional life. You are free to express your passions about certain subjects with appropriate people. But you are also emotionally adaptable; if the conversation needs to be more cerebral, you'll keep it "in your head" and talk calmly through whatever issue is on the table. This emotional awareness serves you well. You seldom get in over your head, either by opening up to the wrong person or by triggering in someone else's emotions they may not be able to deal with.

A General Description of How You Interact with Others

When you take on a task at work or at home, you are reliable; you get the job done. In an organized way, you define the goal, lay out a plan, figure how long the task will take, and get to work "solid and dependable you".

But and this is important you're not a slave to the plan. You're committed to it, but not chained to it; the connection is more casual and informal. You know that sometimes "the best laid plans" fall off the tracks; when this happens, you clean up the train wreck and start over, undeterred.

Though not happening often, when plans change, you're okay with it. In fact, sometimes you change the plan. It's too nice of a Saturday to finish organizing the garage. Let's go for a bike ride instead. True, the next rainy Saturday will likely find you back in the garage, but for now the work can wait.

What an interesting combination of qualities in you're organized, but casual; solid, but compliant; and dependable, but informal. At home and at work, people know they can rely on you. You take great satisfaction in knowing that people think of you as disciplined and responsible, but you also know that you have something of a free spirit in you, and when this spirit moves you, off you go, following the impulse of the moment. You are rightly proud of your work ethic, but you also enjoy your willingness to lay the tools down, crank up the music and play like a child.

~~~~~

That's enough for now. Have to upload paintings to my other blog. Rough life.

Just to clarify

2010-10-03T09:49:00.001-05:00

There was a spell where I was driven to blog daily. It was close to a year and it seriously burned me out. I regret it all.

I am attempting to blog routinely again. I am not trying to do so daily. But here I am, pretty much daily. It's great to have some blogging excitement again.

Realized yesterday that I sold a painting. It's in an exhibit at a garden center/manor house; the show hung in late August and I couldn't attend the Opening a few weeks ago, so I had not seen it on site and don't know when it sold. This pastel has a terrible placement round a corner, in the dark, above a tall, tall door - if I put my hand up, I could not touch the frame's bottom. I don't know how anyone could have seen it, much less wanted to buy it.

Sometimes, I really don't want to sell my babies. This is one of them. It is a beautiful piece.

For a year, I have averaged selling a painting a month. It's a good average, very respectable in this market. Considering that I'd only began showing months before that, it's a phenomenal feat. Creating and displaying art are the most encouraging and personal things I have in my life. Although this blog rates very highly over the long haul.

Accurate and timely

2010-10-01T09:11:00.003-05:00

With the recent law suit crap, I felt the need to document many things. The Discovery I had to fill out for ex's lawyer was comprehensive. Although I do not think ex is necessarily a bad father, I do think I am a better mother.

There are many examples, but being on top of school activities is one. If you want to know what's going on at a school, or perhaps you want to compare schools, get on their email notification systems - even at upper levels of schools beyond your child's, at the district, board, etc. News comes to you. It's easy. Plus there are online sites for seeing their assignments.

My son's school is not the greatest in this incredibly great school district and I was royally angry we are assigned to this one miles father away than the closest one, but I am here to say they communicate so incredibly well. The other school, for which I get their emails, is so sporadic.

Ex has been too ignorant to figure any of this out. I even did subscribed for the school J would have attended near ex's house if that had happened.

Besides volunteering, football games, field days, etc, they give heads up about sex ed information reading/viewing/content. When J was in the fifth grade, I looked at all the materials and videos for both the fifth and sixth grades. Soon will be the same for Middle School.

I used issues like these to demonstrate that, contrary to the Discovery's probing wanting to indicate, I am not the wrong parent for a pubescent boy to have.

Last night I used it as a learning opportunity with J. I told him I'd be going 30 minutes early to back to school night, so he'd need to inform his father to occupy him there or to come by and get him after I leave. J already knew about the nature of the talk/video, because they communicate well with the students, too.

During our talk, he was leaning against me, but facing the other way, so I took that vantage (animals like these don't want direct eye contact!) to my advantage. It was the same when we'd have our best talks while he was a preschooler in the back seat of the car.

I informed J that I'd seen the family (sex) ed for his 5th/6th grade stuff, but he had not known. I told him that I didn't have any problems with what they were teaching, so I didn't want to interject into the experience for him. I told him I'd wished they'd gone farther, beyond the gamete beginning and the STD ending, wishing they'd touched on the act of sex more, but I figured they knew what they were doing.

I also said I figure they know what they're doing this year, too, but I need to see the stuff. I know some parents have trouble with it and opt out. Our Mor.mon neighbor, Norma, is this way with her nearly 15yo son.

Norma has discussed it many times with me. I told J that, for example, I thought they would be covering masturbation. Norma and her church believe that masturbation is wrong b/c if you can please yourself so well, your spouse will never be able to. Chime in with me: it undermines the tenants of a healthy and successful marriage.

Well, I will admit again that I did live that scenario. Of course, it was merely one issue with ex; he preferred his own morning pipe cleaning routine with beautiful 2-D harlots on the computer to anything relating to his 3-D wife. Without calling out his father, I told J all of this. I also said there's room for a middle ground in which it all can be healthy.

His father could never have such a talk and I am documenting mine here for future needs...if need be. My years of navel gazing have actually done me well. I had many things I had to prove with the lawsuit and it scared off his crack legal team. I do not know if ex read the stuff I'd included in my Discovery, but I would have if tables were turned. And then he would know that, at the very least, one can subscribe to email notifications from one's kid's school in order to be a better parent.

After the fact: they didn't show a video, but they had the teacher's manual available. Geez, it was the same as what I read for the fifth grade. They don't get to the juicy stuff until HS, but this year they did bring a contraception chapter into the eighth grade, although nothing else in the manual changed. I guess they figure that kids will figure out the mechanics if they tell them the other details. It makes me kinda laugh.

This blog is a confessional

2010-09-30T13:56:00.001-05:00

A while back, I received one of those blogger awards that is presented from one blogger to another. It felt nice to be somehow included in the art blogging community.

Although I did pass it along to art bloggers I really admire and had followed for some time, I wondered what on my blog deserved the glowing description this mystery blogger gave. Off to the page meter I went and I found the source of my kudos: a series of pictures and posts I did about a famous blogger and workshop instructor I'd had.

Not a one of my paintings was even viewed!

He knew immediately

2010-09-29T10:42:00.001-05:00

Last night, J was in his room and heard canned music coming from my office.

He called out, "Whose card is it?"

I think he's on to me.

BTW, it was for his cousin's birthday. I'm a sucker for some Marvin Gaye or KC in a greeting card.

Getting reacquainted

2010-09-28T15:56:00.003-05:00

When I blogged for so long, my specific hub (or whatever) unfortunately would not allow blogging in advance for timed blog release. (Way back, Ron Southern explained it to me; it appears he passed over the summer and I have huge regrets that I wasn't able to communicate with him toward the end.)

My blogger also wouldn't allow for the email sending of blog entries. Heavens knows, that was before people did mobile blogging to any degree, so there are new levels of communication since then.

Now, I am hoping for emails and advanced blogging; this is my test.

I am lucky that my art blog allows for advanced composing and I use that often; it's been almost two years running over there and I blog once or twice a week at least. If I know you, I don't mind you checking it out.Often, I will make an entry about when a show opens and when the reception is, and then at the same time I will cut and paste to craft a post about when it ends. Sometimes that second entry is my personal reminder to go pick my paintings up! Very nice, I keep a number of entries in the hopper, waiting to be released.

Although yesterday Blogger gave me a lot of error messages as I traversed the site, it never altogether prevented anything, as it used to do. I am hoping it no longer prevents me from posting the emailed and timed ways I have mentioned. When it boils down to it, I have immensely appreciated having Blogger in my life.

As an additional note, I appreciated Bloglines, too. Google Reader isn't impressing me, so I sure would appreciate hearing of some alternatives or at least some tips. Funny, Bloglines just put on their website that the end is shifted from October 1 to November 1. I hate when my procrastinating is one upped somehow!

Edit:
One: it appears to have worked! Posting via email! Who else knew?

Two: between posting yesterday and today, my Feedburner dropped by 1/3. Either folks didn't want to hear from me again or they didn't like what I said. Or Feedburner continues to be psychotic. Regardless, it's time I write. There's a ton of stuff I cannot say on an art blog!

Three: I often think of the people in the computer and have for a long time. I have an awful habit of walking away from wonderful friends when I need to otherwise move on. I guess that's fodder for the future. I have developed a new island. I am no longer on (Secondary) Infertility Island, but I have not successfully entered the mainstream again yet. Even though I don't often get upset about it, I still cringe.

Been months

2010-09-27T12:57:00.005-05:00

I've been trying for access to this blog for a long while. I finally stumbled upon the *right* help question at Google, as I'd been going in circles. My six year anniversary of blogging is coming up in a few weeks, but the real press this time was Bloglines shutting down in a few days and me reading thousands of blog entries recently.

Hello my people.

My Bloglines, which I had not checked in a few years, actually has 45 saved Chez Miscarriage posts, ending in 2005. What a treasure.

Life is going. From April until September, it was the hardest time I had ever had in my life. Ex tried to win custody of J, who just turned 13 this month and strangely in his pubescent haze suddenly has a say about custody - this after he purposefully ditch the sixth grade and had a frenzied and blamed mother as a result. I don't think ex expected me to fight, but I did. The first few months were on my own. I even submitted close to 400 pages of discovery. After that, Bea found me a lawyer who'd do it on the cheap. I worried about his thoroughness, although he did better after I politely jacked him up. Ex finally dropped the suit this month, supposedly, when J said he wanted to live with me. In my opinion, he actually dropped the suit after they contemplated the idea of me having a lawyer.

I think his goal was to no longer have to pay me.

Only a few in my life knew. Bea was helpful in some degree, although I always questioned why she couldn't just pay for me a real lawyer. This reduced rate guy ($2500 for all but discovery through trial) was actually more expensive than paying someone $300/hour or a $1500 retainer.

She has moved closer and is only about 30 minutes away as of this month. I'm still getting used to it, but parts are nice - quick dinner/movie, picking up or dropping off art in her area, etc.

I went to my hometown in August. My father, who is still cheap as ever and never offered me a cent in the lawsuit, scheduled a clean up date for my grandmother's house; she's in a nursing home and it's been sitting. All that was left was going to Good Will, so I picked up some little china pieces I wouldn't have otherwise gotten. It was the first time I'd seen my sister or father since my grandfather's death four years ago.

Overall, things went well, despite the personalities involved, mine included. What it reminded me of was a positive part of my upbringing. For example, it takes all I have not to correct Bea's Ghetto "English" in her speech and writing. Now I remember why. My father isn't wealthy or upper crust (they do very well now, though), but he has a being around him that I also have. It isn't a snottiness, but it is a sense of propriety that definitely comes through in my writing. He spoke of trying to get his community college students to speak Business English and I guess he's in an appropriate environment to make that demand. I am not. I couldn't get Bea to speak, write, or dress in a genteel fashion if I tried. And I have, just a little.

She took offense over a year ago when I asked her to not wear t-shirts with writing across her big boobs around me. I was trying to politely guide her into stepping up her wardrobe, but she then just wore plain t-shirts instead. In the last six months, she went back to dressing with writing across her large chest. At least that is usually spelled right. I wish she weren't incapable of dressing nicely, but that is merely a symptom.

Many in my life doubt her money and she sure doesn't pony up for me. However, she is so frugal, she doesn't pony up for herself either.

So, I as thinking in terms of looking for an outlet for educated and genteel folk so I can feed that side of me, because my ever loving therapist swears they're out there waiting for me for life and love. You'd think Art would do that for me, as I am very active in the Arts, but I do not have connections in the next level of Arts and most of what I do is with other artists, not collectors.

I am in that land between the wealthy/educated/genteel and the laid back/curse-filled/redneck, my feet in each camp, although the second camp is more likely to accept me. Of course, I accept both sides fully, I just have been reminded where I came from and it doesn't seem like that bad of a place. I would like to step myself up and join the first camp in my own right. And maybe I would feel comfortable going back to my roots. Not to offend anyone from any camp, but I realize I've been on a slide.

Aren't you lucky to have such a wordy piece of navel gazing as my first post in seven months? I hope I'm back.

Happy Winter

2010-02-28T00:07:00.002-05:00

Have you dug out of the snow yet? We still have plenty of the parking lot mountains, but it's pretty easy to drive.

Hope you all are doing well. I think of you so often.

For those of you who don't read Facebook or even if you do, I can be more honest here! Hurrah for anonymity or at least the guise of it!

My art is going very well. I had a good number of sales over the last few months as well as some awards. Both concepts are mind-boggling, considering I just began my "Let's Turn Professional" journey a year ago. I didn't anticipate that I would come this far this fast, but I have worked very hard on the business of art. I should probably paint even more, but I work on showing, volunteering, and doing some contests.

According to his teachers during our meeting last week, puberty hit J full force during school's second quarter. Yeah, it was that specific. I was actually glad to hear it wasn't all just him hating on me. I absolutely love him hating on others, too. heh

You may remember he had an ADHD battery done four, count 'em, four years ago. J isn't hyper; he's the inattentive version. I chose the wrong child psychiatrist, who didn't believe in ADHD, and ex took that morsel and ran. So now we're paying. Now, though, J's teachers strongly support his getting help for his inattention and I'd been trying to find a good-to-premier child psychiatrist for a while. Then I tried to just find one on ex's plan. (Why do they not return phone calls?) Now I've got an appt with a ped who specializes in it. Whatever. Whomever. He comes recommended.

Once the teachers were involved, ex hopped on board, as absolutely reluctant as he's been with me for years. It's been harder with J, but I told him what's happening isn't working, so we're going to try something else. If it doesn't work, then fine. I didn't elaborate on how hard it is to get the right med at the right dosage. Alas. Of course when I told him I would be taking him whether he wanted to or not, he said he would not go and it's just like my philosophy about babies and kids being victims of the medical system, captive audiences to get treatments they don't want. He's too smart for his britches. Somehow, I was able to tap dance out of that one.

We're all excited about middle school around here. He's chosen strings orchestra as one of his electives. As his other, he's chosen shop. Ex and I find that funny and odd, but it's fine with me, as long as he gets it out of his system by the time college prep classes are available. I figure it's a Scouting influence. Speaking of which, he's doing well in Scouts. It's perhaps his favorite thing, but as with everything else, he's only so motivated. I have to stay on him for his obligations, but he generally comes through in the end.

My relationship is on track to be the grandest roller coaster ride of all time, complete with stomach churns and screams. I often wish one of us would get off the pot and do the breaking up, but we don't. We love each other and get along well, except when we don't. I still think she's cheap -with me - and I'm still sick of what she continues to give others. Further, her life's dramas spill over into mine; I can request to not hear about such, but still do and then I can't shake it and how it all influences us. Of late, the stress is getting to me and making me less than charming in the other areas in my life. I don't like my cortisol levels to maintain such a high level that I am a royal bitch all the time. It's begun to affect me physically. Her phone was out all last week and I felt a blissful measure of peace.

Another alas.

Tell me about all your alas-es.

Lifting a weight

2009-11-25T11:00:00.001-05:00

It's been a good Fall for art. I sold three paintings and I won two awards. I feel good about the two shows that are concurrently running at the art place, am participating in just one other right now, but with plenty others on the horizon.

Things are coming together, but I still have distinct feelings of being the new kid on the block. I suppose I am, but I would like some respect. I feel uneasy.

In part, it's been problematic b/c I've suffered my fifth thyroid overdose, which makes one ravenous and gain even more weight, unable to sleep, agitated, mouthy, etc. I'm so ready for this to be over. As if. This week marks my four year anniversary of being diagnosed.

Speaking of anniversaries, I missed my five year anniversary of this blog. I think of this so often, what I've so candidly spilled here. Sometimes I feel quite shy about having been so honest.

This month, I resigned from the board position I'd held since April in a society I'd only joined last December. In the future, I must know the board cliques before I sign on. I came to realize that it was a group of little old ladies in tennis shoes and I had more lofty and professional aspirations than they did. Strange thing to me was that they had two shows a year, required attendance and reporting any absences to a board member, required committee work, and had a limit of the group to 30 so that the center could accommodate all of us for shows. Now these things seem like an organization interested in making shows both central and successful, but instead of a Show and Sale, they actually thought of it more like a Show and Tell. I could not devote so much time to nothingness anymore.

There are other related niggles, but I'll give it a rest. Last week was good, this week is a muddle and I can't shut off my brain.

My son is 12 and acting both 14 and 3. I learned at the parent-teacher conference that he treats his teachers like his mom, which isn't pretty as he rolls his eyes without rolling his eyes. It's time for treatment of his ADD to get his focus on and transition smooth, as his stubbornness and know-it-all-ness will only get worse. I am trying to find a doctor that takes ex's very well known insurance, but have not had luck as most take no insurance at all. The real progress is that ex actually agreed that something needs to happen. I really need to get on the stick with this.

Bea and I are still chugging along. She can be such a sweet, helpful, and thoughtful person. Things had gotten very comfortable and I was happy, but last week I had a trust issue knock me back six months, a straw that broke the camel's back

I will readily admit that I am jealous of her previous girlfriends with whom she was very generous. With me, she is quite tight and I feel like she has the warped idea that I should provide for her and us. Four times in our short relationship she has had the need to come to me for money, which is laughable. The third time was for over a month's time when she was being audited (for the third time) due to some mis-steps by her CPA, who will soon be convicted for embezzlement of some 20 clients.

Last week was the last straw emotionally, as she discovered she'd over-spent her arbitrary monthly budget amount imposed by her new CPA, a budget which is only 7% of her INTEREST income, as she brings in a huge amount each month doing nothing. She felt it appropriate for me to bail her out with an advance from my credit card. Absolutely absurd.

As I've carried on about before, she repays, sure she's good for it, but she gives no "thank you bonuses" which make it logical to lend to her. She's shot herself in the foot with this one.

Like I said, we'd gotten to a very good place; I had given it up thinking about money and fairness, knowing that instead she'd bail me out when something big broke, like my water heater and brakes, but they're nowhere near what she is/has given others. Of course, the higher order concern now is her actually getting a house for us and me somehow living monetarily under someone who is so completely arbitrary and foolish. I need stability and not flurries of spending for which I have no reins, but I am still responsible somehow. I have the impression she's easy with everyone else (shouldn't I be treated at least the same as her parents and sisters?) and tight with me.

Granted, part of the reason she went over budget-wise was buying art supplies for me for Xmas, which would seem nice, except most of it is not what I'd specifically requested when asked. They're large sets from brands I don't use and had ruled out. It really makes me feel bad...at a loss...confused...frustrated. I feel the victim of her midnight shopping sprees.

I told my therapist yesterday that if she were a man, I'd be expecting a $20K diamond necklace or the like. The light went on for my therapist how expectations are somehow skewed b/c it's Bea instead.

Really, I just want to feel special in the well communicated ways I'd like to feel special. She likes to dabble in my art "business," twice buying me boatloads of frames which weren't my style and I could use only maybe one third, so I actually gave them back to her. Then she went on an easel-buying spree, to include another of the regular outdoor working easel I already had, despite the fact that I sent her specific links and preferences to get a few for shows. Same with Xmas. Same with other little stuff when I have to tap dance and be appreciative. My business is my business. I need to steer it.

Okay. Rant is over. This is my second, less angry draft, but it wound up just as long, but w/o so many details.

She's coming tomorrow to avoid traffic. I don't want too cook, b/c that costs too much and I'd rather go out to eat. I fear the blow up.

Hope you all have a great holiday.

What do you follow?

2009-09-14T17:31:00.003-05:00

I'll readily admit that I don't check my email here all the time anymore. It would be a waste of effort.

However, I have begun to wonder about all these messages of being followed this place or that online. Paranoia aside, I'm not so sure these folks know me or care about my blog. I've visited a couple of their pages and they follow 15,000 other close friends, too.

What do you think about these Twitter and Twitter-like notifications? Who do you follow and am I missing something, my head in an Odorless Mineral Spirits fog?

PS - Baby fever has hit Bea even harder and I'm trying to figure a way to reconcile our diverse feelings. She's been better about the one thing at a time idea lately, so she knows I'd prefer getting other things secure first. She's young; she has some time. I do love her so. I wish I could give her what she wants.

Down to a crawl

2009-08-20T15:54:00.003-05:00

I called a clinic today. I'd sought by email a few referrals, got none, so I climbed the long ladder to the high dive alone.

And plunged.

I was quickly told that most places have a cut off of 42, but they have 45, actually until 46 arrives, so actually only about 13 months ago for me or about seven months before Bea and I met.

When I asked if they would just test, she said they might do a clomid challenge, but it didn't matter, because they would not use the information. She then referred me to their donor program.

At this point, I don't really can't embrace the thought of another child, but I absolutely and fully feel the pain Bea has in wanting another. I have been there. Bea's walls are induced, though; she is not infertile in the least. She has been pregnant a number of times with losses, but she has gotten pregnant both times the first time she tried with insemination. She mostly just doesn't want to be pregnant again, however if she used the donor vials she has, her son would have a full sibling.

I especially do not want her to decide to have a child with someone else and to have a visitation arrangement. That child would not feel like it would be mine. Then again, I honestly do not know if I could birth via donor egg and donor sperm and feel like it'd be mine. I don't want to birth a little stranger.

Of course, I did grow to love P's daughter, L, but I never considered her mine. With Bea's 4yo son, I know I could love and care for him, but he'd never be mine.

Seems, though, that something ripping your cooch to shreds should feel like it's yours.

I know people do donor stuff every day. I know some people are desperate enough for children to put aside their own genetics. I don't see that as me. J is a cousin of Thomas Jefferson and Jimmy Carter. I would not have any historical links or tales for a child born of a donor. For a genealogical geek like me, that plays large.

Last night, I did thumb through the donors online. They seemed like lovely women. Of course, I was quite critical of the writing samples. I'm such an intellectual geeky snob. Only one did art, but other things precluded her. I liked one, cute kid, but then she said he had a big nose.

I don't like shopping this way! It's ridiculous!

Bea is texting me about someplace else she found online. Pandora, I tell ya.

Baby steps

2009-08-19T23:48:00.003-05:00

I volunteered one thing the other night. I would get myself tested. Mentally, I will only go that far.

I will not deconstruct my wall and I will not get my hopes up.

In fact, I will hope that my eggs are past expiration. Perhaps that's an additional measure of closure that I can handle appropriately.

So now I am seeking a fertility clinic and dr in the DC area. If you have experience in such, please drop me a line or refer my question on. I am not up on the current batch of bloggers who might have knowledge.

Pshew.

Never in a million years thought I would put up a post like this after being left at the IVF alter by both a husband (1999) and a fiance (2005). Or that it would be a lesbian wanting it with me.

Old topic reborn

2009-08-16T12:26:00.003-05:00

It's been almost a year since I brought up the topic of babies.

Bea wishes very much that we'd met several years ago. I could have been on the baby bandwagon.

In the past year, I have progressed past bandwagon to bandwhat? Of course, I don't coo over babies, but I largely don't covet them anymore, either.

Enter the multi-millionaire who can afford whatever she wants. She has a son through donor insemination and he's almost five. She wants another. She would consider a surrogate. She might consider her eggs. She just does not want to be pregnant again. She has a big heart and could love any child, to include an adoptive one.

However, if she had her way, she'd see me pregnant. If I were to be pregnant, I would have to use my eggs. My 47 year old eggs. Or she'd consider a surrogate. But I would want to breastfeed, which is best accomplished after a pregnancy.

She said if she got a surrogate, she'd want a live in surrogate who could be monitored.

She has a number of vials of the same donor semen. Still, she asked if I'd consider an African-American donor and I said I'd want another red head (as she carries on about what a pretty baby I made, who looks just like me), so she said her son's donor has red-headed children, too; this donor has had incredible success. If we were to do this, I'd prefer her son and the new baby to be half siblings together.

If I said yes. she would immediately begin the process.

How could I possibly let my guard down and hope again? It's too crazy. That wall was hard earned and built with blood, sweat, and tears.

Honest evaluation

2009-08-13T12:33:00.003-05:00

I don't drink very often anymore, just a beer with dinner out, because another thing I don't trust is my ability to judge properly about drinking. I hold my shit too well and I think last night qualifies as that. I perceive that I'm in more control than I am.

I came here to a safe place. I didn't do anything to get in trouble, but it bugs me that I pined over someone long gone. So I am embarrassed at the depth of emotion that leaked out.

I had kept my near hatred of him in place until he started checking my art blog. The first time in late June was an aberration to me. He only stayed 90 seconds, didn't even make it to the main page, but did exit via the profile, a frustrating page to me b/c it doesn't really serve a purpose. He arrived googling my full name, so it was pretty specific.

The second time was mid July and he didn't look much further than the first.

The third time was a few days after my (and his daughter's) birthday. He stayed six minutes and looked all over the place for the first time.

I know he's proud of me; he always appreciated my art and was very supportive, something I'm not genuinely getting now.

I think his drinking is in control b/c he's lost a significant amount of weight. He's down to what he weighed when we met.

He says in a note on fb in one of those list memes going around that his favorite vacation was Co-sta Rica. I don't see any evidence of them going, so I can only assume that was with me just a few months before I started this blog.

Of course, I don't know if he's checked my fb, but I did mention him with distain in a similar meme last fall. If he went back though my notes, he'd see that. I suspect he hasn't, though, b/c my art blog publishes there, too, and there'd be no reason to google my name to arrive at the art blog b/c the blog address is on every post. Then again, maybe that's why he stayed on the blog such a short time? I know he can see my fb, b/c I finally decided to join the local network, regardless of him, as a "see what you're missing" moment. I have it severely limited as to what a network person can access, but fb frustratingly doesn't include enough options to be blocked, like notes and pictures.

I was fine without him. Had checked his fb when I began last October and he didn't have one. I then checked in March and was surprised to see it, begun in January. I don't think I checked it again until he began looking at my art blog in June. You might remember I've been through this blog visit thing before with a (minor) ex checking the blog and it bugging me. After enough time elapsed, I sent it all to her in an email and there were no more visits.

Gosh, I desperately don't want to contact him, but I don't like where his visits put me.

I return to my outlet

2009-08-12T22:06:00.004-05:00

I drank a bottle of wine tonight. Three Pinos or something from Trader Joe's.

It makes me honest.

I fucking still love Paul beyond any love I've ever had before, yet I never told him he was the love of my life like he told me constantly. It's been three years.

I check him often on Facebook, as in tonight.

He seems to be happily married, but....

he's checked my art blog three times in the last month or so from his office, so it is easily identifiable. He even downloaded a picture of my son playing his violin.

Thank goodness for my stat thingie.

I love him, regardless of what he's done.

I think he is still stuck on me. It is not a casual checking in.

His wife is ugly as dirt. I feel sorry for her. I can check her Facebook, too.

I feel sorry for Bea, as she will never measure up. I love her, but not with this passion and I fear her finding this blog.

I love Bea in an odd way. I do not trust her. She snoops through my stuff and my computer. I do not think she will ever really come through for me, the struggling artist and single mom. She's paid her ex over $600,000 in the last six weeks. Just because. She refuses to help me and I am going in the hole, near bankruptcy b/c I decided to pursue the life of an artist and all the costs that brings. It feels absurd to be partners with a multimillionaire when you're about to seek credit counseling. She constantly insists she cares, yet she always services her exes time and again before me.

She is too fucking stupid to appreciate anything intellectual. She is ghetto. Her family is ghetto. They use her and she services them at all hours. Her sister has AIDS and fucks whatever moves, yet Bea does not report her.

Contrasting this, Paul is the quickest brain I ever met, next to his brilliant daughter.

Just like it makes me cry that Memph is gone and can't watch Top Chef with me, I cry because I can no longer be with or trust Paul. But I long to.

So this is my drunken rant that isn't too drunk b/c I could easily drink another bottle.

This is me.

Take that!

2009-08-10T10:33:00.002-05:00

I was recently shocked to see the 10 year anniversary advertisements for The Tigger Movie. It's tough to think nostalgically in a commercial sense for the very first movie you took your son to see. 10 years? I think it was yesterday! And he sat through it beautifully, although he was less than two.

(BTW, my first movie was Bambi and I distinctly remember Thumper bounding on screen and Flower peering up through the colorful meadow.)

In honor of J's 10th cinematic viewing anniversary, I present Sammy and a McDonald's Pooh from that era. Sorry, but sweet Pooh doesn't stand a chance against these moves.

The Eye Vacuum

The Rabbit Kick

The Chenille Drag

The Butt Bite

The Sleeping Head Rest

Out with the old

2009-08-08T15:40:00.003-05:00

Although Bea did the preparations for us early in the week, J and I finally buried Sad.ie and Memph yesterday afternoon.

Sad.ie had been frozen for almost 2.5 years in a taxidermy snafu. I'd frozen Memphie as soon as I found him last weekend. There was room for little else in my freezer.

Once we got them outside, J wanted to open up the boxes. Sad.ie was as beautiful as the day she died. I remember her looking so horrible then, but she was so luxurious and just as I always wanted to remember, but had not been able. Although I was scared that opening the box would bring her too close, it actually made me feel better.

I wish I had warned J about opening up Memph's box. He was in full rigor when I found him, so it was a rather large box. Rigor is most pronounced in the smaller muscles, so the face is grossly affected. Memph looked like he'd been tortured by demons, but thank goodness J missed most of it by being on the opposite side. I explained about rigor mortis and J didn't have nightmares as far as I know.

Bea's hole in the backyard was perfect and the boxes fit side by side. J and I remarked about what great cats they both were and then we covered them with dirt.

By 11pm, I was crawling out of my skin antsy. I called Bea to tell her that it is taking everything I have to not dig up Sad.ie. She was just fine in my freezer and there was no reason to get rid of her. All day, I'd thought about her new environment, her thawing, her getting invaded, and her box caving in. It is gruesome and morbid.

I know I'm odd. I want to grave rob my own cat. I was fully expecting more cat pee between my pillows.

In with the new

2009-08-07T08:56:00.006-05:00

As I said, I knew Memphie was on his way out since the end of June.

I also knew of kittens born on June 5. I did not want one. I was really looking forward to only three cats using the litter boxes. I would own so many cats if it weren't for the litter box.

Three hours from me, this litter of kittens was born to Bea's ex's household from a stray they'd only adopted a few month earlier. To call these people white trash would be a compliment. They are ignorant and malicious. Within four weeks, five of the six kittens were dead. Bea crawled under the house after a deluge to save the last one, the day after the remaining three had been put out by the owners, and I use that term loosely.

The mother cat had already largely abandoned the kittens, as she was an outdoor cat without free access indoors. The kittens had lived inside and were exposed to people, to include children too young to understand handling them.

Bea bottle fed the last kitten for almost a week. Can you believe that you can buy kitten feeding supplies and dehydrated cat's milk at Wal-Mart?

She then transitioned the kitten to food fit for a kitten. She was a good mom, however she and her roommate continued to "play" with the kitten quite roughly, appropriately calling it an ankle biter. Apparently it was used to being played with that way, so Bea kept it up.

I guess you know where all this is going. She brought the cat to me 10 days ago, so for a few days I had five cats. Who knows? Maybe the little monster is what put Memph over the edge.

When I realized that the cat would be coming to me a few weeks ago, I named him/her/it Sammy/Sammie, as it was a name that could go either way, b/c they had no clue of the sex. Turns out, it is a Sammy. He is a beautiful gray that looks different shades from different angles, so very much like Sad.ie, except he completely lacks the composure she had as a kitten.

I said I would take him if Bea pays for the spay and shots. She agreed and said she'd do a one year plan at Banfield, too - not that I'm crazy about Banfield, but it would cover most everything Sammy would need without me worrying.

In addition to minimizing any testosterone in his aggressive system, I wanted Sammy spayed young so as to ensure it is done, as Bea too often fails to come through on what she says. We went to the vet that Sad.ie went to, b/c the (errant) receptionist said they'd spay early, whereas Banfield was trying to get me an appt for late October. During the appt when I told the vet I wanted him spayed early, she declined, then I protested with reason, then they said they'd consider it, as they do spay early with rescues they do. I figured out they fix the unattached kittens early, not the ones who are already pets, in case something happens.

Anyway, during the exam, the vet made the mistake of putting her finger too close to Sammy's face and he lit in, drew blood, shook his head, and growled. She called him "Devil Child" and labeled him hyperactive.

That's Sammy, but I am working hard on the kitten biting and other behaviors. He's people socialized, but was taunted, and he wasn't cat socialized enough to know when enough is enough. It's like he's feral, but he's not. He wants to be around so he can bite and scratch, play that could be cute as a kitten, but cannot be written off as an adult.

I have never purchased so many cat toys. Our motto around here is, "Skin is not a toy." We substitute, we redirect, we scruff like a mother cat would, we isolate, we walk away. We are the behaviorists. And it is working somewhat. He still nips, but he doesn't bite unless he gets angry, at which time he goes zero to 60 on the Anger Meter, another typical behavior for this sort of kitten. The other three cats were very fearful, but now they just whap him if he gets out of line. They have begun to play chase me/chase you, so that's a great sign. We all know our jobs in dealing with him.

Although the vet says that some cats stay overly frisky (aka mean), particularly the ones bottle fed and not having the mother cat's influence, I do think Sammy is being retrained and will perhaps grow out of the rest. For now, all I can say is thank goodness they trimmed his nails so well!

His blue eyes have turned greenish in the last week; he's a very handsome chap.

Ah, don't let him fool you. Yesterday, he napped for one hour in the afternoon and one in the evening. Bea actually crated him like a dog and told him when to take naps. I may use that approach. I do love that he's chosen my fuzzy robe as his favorite bed.
Of course, J is absolutely smitten...and bears the scratches to prove it.

Sammy is nine weeks old today.

RIP Memph

2009-08-04T14:15:00.002-05:00

Memphie died over the weekend. He was the best cat, so gentle and affectionate.

He had a tumor in his abdomen which I first felt about a month ago. It was confirmed by the vet, who wanted to put him to sleep on the spot. I declined, as Memph as too much life in him. Up until the end, he jumped on top of the high kitchen cabinets. He was eating like the dickens, although his hips had carved out, while the tumor bulged like a pregnancy.

We went away Friday through Sunday and I knew I'd be putting him down this week. However, I returned on my birthday to find him dead on the floor.

He was such a sweet cat, he allowed me not have to take him in. Doing that with Sad.ie ranks among the hardest thing I've had to do as an adult.

J isn't home again yet from his dad's. At present, I have two dead cats in my freezer. This happening gives me the opportunity to no longer "wait" on ex to pay for Sad.ie's taxidermy, as it has been almost 2.5 years. They'll be buried together, which is fitting, as they were both incredible cats and I got him only 10 days after she died.

I shed my tears already in this process. Honestly, I am glad I had so long to say goodbye. He was a sweetheart, my secret admirer.

I venture back here

2009-06-24T22:38:00.003-05:00

I didn't drop off the face of the planet!

...for any friends still reading...

I have been painting a good bit, but I haven't been blogging that, either.

I really hate blogs to exist mostly for times of stress and the good times are skipped and I desperately do not want this long-term investment I have here to become that.

My relationship with Bea is troubled, but she is resolute about making it work. I am on the fence. About the many things she promises, I feel like they're carrots on strings, as she has not come through on any of it. However, I can honestly say that she has had the worst upbringing that I have ever heard of and she desperately wants to put that behind her, but I think I am bringing her realizations of the baggage she has and now wants to work on. I'm a fer piece from high class, but she is from the ghetto. Although we have broken up twice, we are considering couples therapy, her suggestion. She is a sweet person with a big heart, but she needs to trust me and to come through on what she says.

My son is doing very well. He's in a nature camp with a friend this week. He finished his second year of violin, but he's less and less willing. Against his wishes, I signed him up for that camp this summer, too, although he will miss a lot of that due to his greatest new love, Boy Scouts and Summer Camp. It could be worse. He's still the quiet, demure guy, but he shows such tenacity, resolve, and composure as a new Scout that I get compliments on him all the time. Alas, if only he were so cooperative with me!

Bea did surprise us by buying him a pre-paid phone last week and he's really enjoying that. I loved it today, b/c my new phone died last night and I got a replacement today, but the phone number transfer didn't work from the SIM card and I was left in the cold today. It'd be so much easier if I could just remember phone numbers!

Painting is going well. Although me showing in public was new in January, I have loved being able to do it. I routinely have three pieces in the gallery, plus now have a coffee shop, library (I have a solo wall next month!), senior center, and government center for exhibits. Selling isn't the thing; creating and displaying are. It lights a fire on me to need to produce. Just next week, I will be hanging 10 pieces in two locations. So exciting. I am enamoured with pure landscapes and painting en plein air. It charges me.

I wish Bea would understand and respect it more, as there are lots of weekend conflicts with opportunities to paint and go to workshops.

Now if only I could come through on another block. So sorry, Val. I have not forgotten you.

If you read the art blog, or the lack thereof lately, don't consider it dead, either. I've been painting instead of photographing paintings or writing. I'll have an inspired day soon and post a number in one day.

Next month, I fly to a family reunion with my mother's mother's family. It's the first time to have such a gathering outside a misc wedding or funeral. My son will be at Scout Camp, but I guess I'll do. Of course, they specifically request the kids. There's a measure of geneaolgy which a 2nd cousin is putting together, so I am looking forward to that angle: compiling about the living!

Three cats are doing well, but Memphie has lost a lot of weight recently and I am having flashbacks to Sa.die two years ago. He's had a check up and bloodwork done, but it is inconclusive as far as I know - just a low amylase, tiny high WBC, and high specific gravity. Hopefully, I talk to the vet again tomorrow about the thyroid. I go to Banfield, a chain, b/c they offer a pay-by-the month program and all office visits/vaccines are included. So far, I've only paid extra for the thyroid test, but I pay so much with time, miscommunication, absolute lack of communication, and plain ol' poor service or caring that I am considering a switch. They didn't notice that they kept a cat who has recently lost two whole pounds in a cage w/o food or water for 10.5h. I just don't see the compassion, but I don't know if all the locations are so over taxed.

I still talk to Lyd often. She started a physician-guided shake diet and has lost about 25 pounds. I am so proud of her for doing it. Her mother has spent all her lottery winnings for the year already, so they're back to normal, but do have a nice sun porch to show for it. Lyd is still hung up on me, but tries with all her might not to go there. Although she'd say she's weak, I think she is one of the strongest people I know. I should tell her.

I tried to get on Bloglines today to catch up a bit, but it wouldn't let me it. Feel free to lead me to any especially telling blog entries you've read or written in the last few months.

Now I'm telling myself, "Don't be a stranger!"

Still looking: the review

2009-03-19T17:02:00.005-05:00

I saw three houses today.

I described the first one in the entry below. It has a very large foyer/dining room/living room/curved staircase entry. It is very grand, but not a very practical use of space. The kitchen is impressive and worthy of the house. I wish it had a deck. Everything upstairs is good, to include the incredible master closets. The basement seems to have had a small flood, probably due to the entry well door having a bunch of leaves blocking the drain. There's a slight mildewy odor, but I don't think it is terminal. Much of the basement is dark, but that suits it being a media room very well. Under the whole front half of the house is a huge unfinished storage area. There was a lot of junk/clothes left around, so it was messy and not pristine, but that doesn't really matter.

The second house was much smaller, had a dining room, but no living room. It had two masters, but neither had more than a single small walk in closet. The basement was finished and well lit with a bedroom, but they only left about the size of a walk in closet unfinished for storage. It also almost backed to a busier road.

The third house was not in the neighborhood I wanted, but the realtor, who was very cool, wanted to see it for herself. It was grand and beautiful and on a very large lot backing to woods. The kitchen was spacious, but not huge or particularly open. It has a library, which would probably be the studio, and a large solarium, in addition to the family room.

It had five bedrooms upstairs and the master had double doors with two steps leading to them. There were two closets, but they were regular walk in size vs. the three large, successive closets in the first one. The master and sitting rooms were smaller, too, but still substantial. One bedroom smelled of smoke, as if it were the smoking room, but size-wise it would have to be for one of the boys, although it would have to use the nearby hall bath. One bedroom was a small throw away one, guess that would be the nursery if it weren't so far from the master. Another had its own bath and would have been great for one boy.

Downstairs painted the picture of why it is in foreclosure. It reeked of mold with a longstanding water problem; the carpeting was stained, but there didn't appear to be a water line on the wall. It is unfortunate. It had a great rec area and bar, a bedroom, and a study, which had a large 20x20 unfinished area off if it. There were also two other unfinished areas, each about 14x14.

This home was incredible and Bea would probably pay the preforeclosed price. Shoot, the thing was also on a cul de sac. Guess it was too perfect. Now the realtor is checking on the selling status of the first one and Bea is ready to do a home inspection on the first and last ones. It wouldn't cost much to figure out their problems.

Houses for sale are very difficult to come by in these parts.

Thanks for reading and commenting. I appreciate you hanging around. I seem to be only able to update one blog at a time; haven't done my art one in a month, although I do have some paintings and such to show.

Tomorrow is career day at school. I am the Resident Artist. Then I drive several hours to spend the weekend with Bea, then I drive back to pick up J on Sunday and drive a couple hours the other way to get a painting I left for a show three states away. Glad they're small states. So I won't be back home until Monday. Guess I need to get packing.

Life can move quickly

2009-03-17T20:35:00.002-05:00

Yup. We're looking at a house not far from here and I'm being specific b/c of the schools - I've been through too many boundary meetings the past few years to err on this one. This home is huge, over 5K sq ft. I never in my dreams thought I could live in a house like that. With the market coming down, it's about 35% less than what it appraised at a few years ago.

What a bargain!

This one doesn't have as good of light as I'd want in the basement (hence, it's great as a Media Room, etc), so I'd claim the Library as my studio.

The Master Bedroom takes up half the upstairs.

I'm not completely crazy about the brick color (too light), but it has everything else and more.

Pinch me!

The kitchen is so large that it has room for five tall chairs and a table for six.

I would move out of my place, but retain it as a rental. It would need new carpet and such; Bea is fine with footing the bill.

Life is good.

I have plans for a bunch of Ethan Allen. My dining room furniture is from there and I love the lines.

I have never in my life had more than one couch. For the last seven years, I've only had a tattered love seat. This house has seven rooms that would take couches.

Jeez, where will I get the time to decorate? I will need to paint big stuff to fill the walls. And I want to buy paintings of my artist friends to fill the house with people I know.

It doesn't have a deck and I have plans for a wrap around one with a hot top and a fire pit. Bea is cool with it. She likes my ideas for configuring the bedrooms with the boys. The only thing I do not have planned is a nursery. That still has to stew a bit in my head. Any additional offspring would go in the 2nd largest bedroom (abnormally large, so could not let it go to one of the boys and not the other) which I had slotted as a kiddie game room.

Is this my life?

Children, money, and moving forward

2009-03-10T13:36:00.003-05:00

Bea hasn't heard from the therapist again. Or the therapist's friend. If something is stirred up again, I'll write the letter. I think it is over now.

We had an incredible weekend together. I drove a few hours to see her. We talked a lot and I feel confident in who she is. I am trying to make her feel more confident in who she is as well. I think she understands me and how cautious I am. We have a great understanding of one another. She's overwelmed that she felt this way over me so soon, as it isn't her usual modus. I think it's to my credit that I am working slowly. In fact, I told her that I like her despite her the money.

Bea has a 4yo son who lives with her half the year, plus she visits often and talks to him daily. They even have a camera system and she can see him all the time.

Bea's ex from the time, Mimi, homeschools the boy and he's a sponge for it even this young. (My son is the opposite, so it's interesting to hear about.) They inseminated Bea and she was at first pregnant with twins, lost them, and got pregnant the next try with Mike. She was fine being pregnant and had a waterbirth because of Mimi's insistence about natural childbirth. Bea went along, but it made her never want to do it again. Ever.

She really wants more children and to have a normal family thing, is interested in adpotion. However, she is willing to pay for me to have IVF and to help, as she'd gone through similar when they tried to get Mimi pregnant. She suggested that I do it. She's wanting to try it with my own eggs, because it is my preference, at least at the outset.

The concept is blowing my mind. As I turned 45, I was largely able to turn off the baby desires. I felt it was impossible and I am actually proud that I could switch gears. I have been able to cringe much less with a baby in proximity; although not perfect, I considered myself almost emotionally healed from IF.

Now she's interested in me trying this. We would have equal legal rights, just as she gave her partner with Mike.

She has several vials left of the sperm used for Mike. Apparently it's a real commondity and people want to buy it. The donor has a great track record for producing children. Over the weekend, she asked me what I would want and I said I'd always wanted another redhead. She said she wouldn't want my ex-husband to donate and I agreed quickly. It would be interesting using the same donor she'd used before, as any new baby would be a half sibling with Mike as well as a half sibling through me for J.

I told her I would not do it right away. I do not like the thought of being engaged in this stuff near the outset of our relationship, when I'd rather be showing her Europe. With her money, though, it'd be possible to go with children and travel.

Anyway, Bea presents a lot of issues and opportunities. She wants to buy a house near me for the schools; I began looking and drove through my preferred neighborhood. That way, locally, I could still do my art thing the way I've carved it out the past few months. I keep thinking that I could have my cake and eat it too, that J could begin middle school in the location I'd prefer, that I could have a dedicated art studio with proper lighting and supplies, that I could have a baby with a partner who would actually be actively involved and sufficient enough to make it feel easier, that I could stay in this area and do all the things I love. The possibilities are endless. I could so the simple stuff I like and not worry. I could never be extravagent, yet I would be able to do so much simple stuff with such freedom.

I already have it worked out with her that before anything her money does jeopardizes my income, I will have a legal contract that my various incomes/insurances/home are protected and she'll be required to compensate me. She's said for herself that she does not require a prenup, but it's funny that me and my piddly interests do.

She gives free access to her ATMs etc. Her last ex went to the ATM daily and withdrew the max - that is, the max that Bea is allowed (like $5K or something) if she goes directly to the card's bank. Bea didn't mind that a bit. What's hers is her mate's.

She spoke of the Vermont laws which allow for outsiders to get married. The only quirk is upon breaking up, when a year's residence would be required during the separation. Apparently the Vermont law can be applied elsewhere, so that legal rights are conferred for hospital settings, financal concerns, family issues, etc. I would need to research this more, because I've assumed for a very long time that I would never remarry.

Although it doesn't sound like I am taking it slowly, I am. This is all in the hypothetical. I do not have my hopes up. I still have way too many walls around my heart, but it feels so good to dream a little.

It only gets better

2009-03-06T18:34:00.002-05:00

Seems the therapist gave the other woman Bea's phone number. When Bea didn't call last night, the woman called her at 7am. It woke her up and she just got off the phone as quickly as she could.

She was supposed to see the therapist today, but didn't go. The therapist called and asked why she didn't come and Bea said she wanted to stop. Late this afternoon, the therapist came to her house uninvited. Said Bea needed to see her and she added a fourth session to her schedule next week to compensate for the one missed today. Bea declined. It got heated. Bea said she didn't want to hear from her or her friend again. The therapist said Bea still owed her for today and Bea just rolled her eyes. After she left, she called the clinic and said she did want to see this therapist again. Turns out the therapist had, without her knowledge, scheduled her for four sessions next week. So she canceled them and hopefully is free.

If the therapist had not come by, I was writing a letter on Bea's behalf to the therapist. I have urged her to report the woman and will continue to do so.

After doing Scouts all morning tomorrow and painting in the afternoon tomorrow, I'm driving the three hours down to see her; twice in the past we've met in the middle. I'll evaluate things then. I assure you that I have a good head on my shoulders about this. I am not dependent. I have not fallen. My eyes are wide open. She is pursuing me and I am taking it very slowly. I do not think she is playing me (gosh, just think how suspicious and paranoid I am!), but I am very prepared if that's the case. In some situations in my life, trust is granted easily. In situations like this, it is not. She is naive, but I don't think it is terminal. She needs better people around her.

Next paragraph

2009-03-05T14:54:00.002-05:00

I talked to Bea after the session today. Per the kind recommendation in comments, I googled and found a list of ethical concerns and sent it to Bea. I don't think I needed to, b/c Bea had come to her own conclusion.

After their first session last evening, this therapist called her bi-but-mostly-lesbian friend and told her about her new client. She got the other woman's permission for the therapist to pass along her phone number, which she did and said the other woman is waiting with anticipation for her call.

Talk about therapist-client privacy being jeopardized. It makes me furious.

This therapist interjected a bunch of other personal stuff today as Bea talked, often steering the conversation toward her. Bea felt like she was trying to be a friend instead of a professional.

She wants Bea to come three times a week and Bea is not interested in that frequency; Bea is confused, but she is not a head case. I think it is a financial thing, not one based in need. Bea is a good journal writer and I started her on a private blog a week or two ago. This therapist wants her to write and bring it in, which she did. Last night, she wrote. Today, the therapist read and picked apart each word and nuance. It made Bea wonder why she'd even brought it in.

Bea felt like the therapist's questions were inappropriate, as in how she became a lesbian, to which Bea said she was born this way. She had a boyfriend once in the sixth grade and they punched each others' arms. Apart from her attacker, she'd never been touched by a man, but she is clear to say that she has nothing against men, unlike some lesbians.

The therapist asked how many times in a sex session she would have orgasms. Bea felt very creeped out. And Bea wondered how much of this info would go to the therapist's friend.

The therapist also said to dump me - again. Bea told her that I didn't take to how she categorized all bipolars. Bea explained that I've had years of treatment and am very stable; the therapist apologized for hurting me, but I would actually have to give her much more power if I were to allow her to hurt me. It's silly. I don't care what the therapist thinks, but I do not want her position of authority to influence Bea.

The strange thing to me is how the therapist is cuing on me, because the other women living around Bea have drugged and rapped her and have cheated on her. They all manipulate her. I don't like their hands in her pockets and Bea is very generous with money and ATM cards.

Bea's birthday is in a few weeks. She wants me to do something with her for a weekend. I suggested Memp.his b/c I have always wanted to visit and experience the blues first hand; it's not that far or that extravagent. She loves music and thinks it's a good idea. She said she wants her gift from me to be me singing karoke for her. I am the worst singer in the world. She is perhaps the best, the voice of my dreams. If it's what she wants, then I will. And I will laugh, b/c she is so sweet to crave something that I could actually give. She's not much of a drinker, but I would take a pass that night and have a few.

We talked for a very long time today and we are in a good place. I enjoy her very much and I know she craves the stability I could offer. I like her spirit and her eagerness. We are good together in many ways. I would like to take some time to find out. I am relieved to be unencumbered now.

The next page

2009-03-05T07:01:00.003-05:00

Lyd called last night and I officially pulled the plug. I told her that I could not be part of her fantasy. I want her to disengage from me and find someone local and I want the same for me. She hates when she feels like a girl, but she's crying and moping. I told her that she needs distance and to not call until next week. I told her that I cannot handle the routinely long phone calls, that I can't entertain her, but I still like her and care for her. I don't see how there's a gray area for her, although there's always been one for me. I don't know how we can be friends.

She can be quite eloquent and she's written me a few short emails. She said she's not in love lost, but rather love limbo. She's excellent at telling herself what to do and how to feel - when she's not being mentally masochistic. I think she's seeing beauty instead of dirt for now.

I've known her almost a year. In some ways, I wish we could have made it until then. Also, her birthday is in just a few weeks. I just couldn't handle the disparity in our feelings any longer and felt such pressure in Sea.ttle. I also felt a huge sense of inadequacy, because I could not be what she wanted. I am not her princess.

Yeah, I do feel loss, but I feel a lot of relief, too. I know I will be lonely.

Afterward, I talked to Bea, who'd had a house call from her new therapist as her first session. She felt good about it, but I have some misgivings. First off, the therapist actually recommended a lesbian friend for her to date, talking her up. WRONG! Second, the therapist told her to run away from me, that she sees bipolars in her practice and that Bea has no idea what they're (I'm) capable of. I have never once had a therapist actually tell me what to do; this is ridiculous on a number of levels. Third, the therapist opened up at some length to Bea about some of her own problems.

This just feels all wrong! And I'm not saying that as a scorned-by-therapist friend or potential girlfriend. Bea lives in the boondocks, but there have to be some choices. Trouble is, when you work up nerve enough to finally call someone, you want it to work and perhaps lack energy to keep looking.

Gianna, thank you so much for your comment and for opening up; I miss it here, too. I have contemplated adopting the label of lesbian, but I do not feel like I would fit in that world. Although I could not at present fathom a relationship with a man, I cannot step into the lesbian stereotypical relationship, either. I don't find myself attracted to the feminine and like the soft butch, but I don't like the June and Ward Cleaver dynamic I see with that pairing. I want a partner who is an equal.

Lyd did leave me with a great parting gift. It should suffice for many coupling sessions - a beautiful glass watermelon dildo. I recommend them highly.

This made me squeal

2009-02-11T10:19:00.003-05:00

Lyd's mother won several million dollars recently. It's divided out over 20 years. The amount of the yearly prize is 2-3 times what I make right now, so it'd be living better and buying more art supplies and workshops if I'd won, but not exactly living large.

But still. Their lives are changing. Her mother offered her tuition to go back to school to be a nurse; it's self serving on her mother's part. Lyd earned a general BA last spring, not really having a goal for it, but defaulting to the idea of teaching. Then the idea of nursing came up and she researched prerequisites. Lyd has too much of a temper to be in a helping profession. I want Lyd to go to graduate school in something she actually likes, but then her mother might not pay for that.

Knowing her mother and the strife that follows her (I think of her like the evil step-mother in Cinderella ordering her daughters around), this will be another means of control. I sincerely hope they can find balance with this. I also hope that her mother doesn't gamble it away, too, because the addiction runs deep.

This made me giggle

2009-02-11T10:18:00.001-05:00

more animals

Sour Cream and Onion Crickettes

2009-01-29T23:31:00.000-05:00

Yeah, really. They were dried crickets slathered in seasonings. Could have chosen a couple other flavors, too, like BBQ or cinnamon.

I could not eat my kind, but Lyd didn't know they were my kind! She ate the whole bag.

Same ol'

2009-01-17T19:06:00.003-05:00

I'm actually the optimistic sort, expecting the best to happen, figuring I'll learn and apply what I learned.

In my lapse of not reading Bloglines for a while ( I still have some of you to go), the dreaded pregnancy/new baby folder swelled to over 500 entries. In an act of courage and stupidity, I decided to tackle it.

Approximately every other blog was pregnant or had a brand new baby. I'm not even exaggerating. The shear numbers were completely unexpected. Operating in mistaken self-preseveration, I kept thinking, "No, this next one couldn't be," but it was.

I didn't understand, because most were in that folder because they (generally) got treatment to get pregnant in the first place and then they got their miracle baby allotment. Now they're working on bonuses.

Most days, I am fine being an over the hill infertile. In my life day to day, it rarely rears its head. I can talk to baby people just fine. However, the blog version of this scenario just isn't working for me. Although they couldn't really care less about me as a reader or an unfortunate individual, it feels cruel to learn how truly easy it becomes for some, how they cross back over that fence to stay. It feels like they weren't really infertile, that we were all fooled for a time.

Of course, I don't really believe these things, nor do I think an infertile's pregnancy is directed at my tender psyche, but it sure feels that way as I read entry after entry in a folder of infertiles, who rolled surprise pregnancies in Las Vegas or in their own damn bedrooms.

I wish I'd been so lucky. Reading that folder was overwhelming and it opened old wounds. I wish them all well, but mostly I wished myself well, too, but came up short. I don't think I will force myself to read that folder again. I really learned this time.

Hello, It's Me

2009-01-13T09:22:00.002-05:00

That song by Todd Rundgren is my favorite ever.

I love his freaky eyebrows. He looks similarly in other videos. Not sure if that's his thing or if he's a victim of his times. There are different interpretations of the lyrics, but he sounds contrite, yet hopeful, as if he knows it's over, doesn't want it to be, and he'll take what he can get. Before reading the link, I didn't know it was written as if on the telephone.

Today is better than yesterday. After I got the lithium, I was pretty together as soon as it hit my system. I was wiped out this morning, though. Had a hard time getting up, after many snoozes, and I figure it's related.

It's a bad day for stress, as in my fog of late, I did not deposit my support check from ex from the beginning of the month. He inquired yesterday, then kindly dropped another check off this morning. I need to make it to the bank. I am very nervous.

I am much too quasi about finances. It taxes my brain and drains me. It's like I can only be together about one thing at a time and being good about finances would mean I would not have the energy for anything else. Ex said I was a bad business partner; it's true. It needs to be somebody else's job.

I look at energy as a measured quantity. I despise when something extraneous steals energy. You don't know how often I want to use the expression, "I don't chew my cud twice."

Still no news from the art center about the judging. I emailed with the other artist going through it and she says she plans to give her a week. She said something about being scared about getting in. I don't fear that as much as I just want to know one way or the other.

I'm sorry, again

2009-01-12T14:45:00.002-05:00

I think of posting often. Just like I just read on another blogger, I get stymied. I figure that if I'm blogging often, I can just drop in for a quickie. After an absence, though, I need a slow, comfortable entry. A quickie rant might suit, but it isn't quite respectful.

No, I'm not talking about sex.

At present, I believe I'm going through lithium withdrawals. This happens a day or two after I run out. I have run out b/c I was out of refills. Of course, I had a script in my purse, but I forgot, so the pharmacy must go through the deal to call the doctor.

I was also out of my cholesterol med; my cholesterol is down to 184 because of it this last year and a half. The pharmacy called me today and said I'm no longer a patient with my GP, so he can't refill it. I gave up on getting into my first GP after a couple years, then deferred to going to this guy the last, oh, say, five years. I saw where the first doctor was going to some pre-pay plan, but never saw where my doctor was going. I figured the practice was splitting up. Apparently this occurred last May, however, I KNOW that since last May they have done a refill renewal on something. The office wench told me today that I had not been there since October 07, so there wasn't possibly a thing he could do for me. I asked her if I was supposed to feign sickness in order to have two mild, chronic illnesses treated - cholesterol and asthma - and clog their appointment system for nothing.

So I got a referral to another doctor, an expense I am conscious of during a very lean month. Of course, they can't have my records on such short notice, so I can't combine trips on the 10 miles up there an back to my appt Thursday. And they want me to drop off something in writing, not give something in writing when I pick it up. So this will be three trips for a total of 60+ miles. AND I'M NOT EVEN FUCKING SICK!

Add to these series of phone calls the friendly county water checker guy came by and asked me to turn off my water so he could check for leaks. There'd been a complaint about water on the sidewalk. Obviously, the person hasn't been here long, as it is like this every winter BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING POOR DRAINAGE THAT THE SEWER ARM OF THE FUCKING COUNTY WON'T CORRECT. Sheesh.

Back to the lithium withdrawals. Before Gianna, I thought I would get whacked from bpd mental illness the instant I came off of lithium, that there must be some huge rebound effect. Because of this impatience/crankiness/mania, I am religiously good about refills. This time, there was the extra kink, tough. Anyway, Gianna showed me the light that it isn't my mental illness kicking in, it is withdrawals. It happens the same way each time I'm off for a few days. It is withdrawals. I am not an extra dose of crazy. However, I don't want to come off; I otherwise tolerate it just fine.

Otherwise, things are going well. I am waiting to hear if I was juried into the art center. Was supposed to hear Friday, so it's really working on me. Cool thing is that I'm now hanging, well, you know what I mean, in a gallery and in a government building. This week, I'll be adding a senior center and in a few weeks there will be a coffee/pastry shop, too.

Winter is killing me, because I want so badly to paint outside. Because of the bad lot of paper I got, the fall wasn't as fruitful as I'd hoped. So I am TRYING to paint from pictures I took of CA over Thanksgiving. And I am going to take a class beginning on Wednesday. I want to support the new art center and I am thrilled that they are offering pastel classes, but I'm sad that the classes don't go. The one I'm taking isn't the one I wanted to, but the other two didn't go. This one is with my old pastel teacher who drove me crazy - would not show up prepared for class, talked about people's grandchildren instead of instructing, no demos, no critiques, wanted to pick up pastels to work on your piece instead of being able to tell you what to do...

Nationally recognized and winner of shows, she was my first pastel teacher four years ago and I took her on/off for about 1.5 years until I began working outside almost exclusively. It has been awkward when I see her at various meetings, as I really do feel like she held out on important details concerning my questions years ago about the business of art - photographing works, joining societies, exhibiting, etc - sort of like she was trying to keep me in a certain place. It took me longer, perhaps, but I am in a good place nonetheless. We get along just fine as people, just not as artists or instructor/pupil. It's a very good thing that I have therapy directly after her class!

Okay, there are much, much worse things in the world than I've described. It's basically going well. Today is not good, but it should be better tomorrow once I make it to the pharmacy.

Val, I have not forgotten you. Not in the least. I have psyched myself out about it and I am figuring a way around it.

I suck, I know

2008-12-23T12:28:00.000-05:00

Haven't done any blogging or art. But J did get the contraptions off his teeth yesterday - for the end of the first phase - he'll get them back in two years. His dad came home Saturday and will see him for the first time this afternoon.

Funny, J has chapped lips clear to his nose and I'd thought of skipping the picture for that reason, but opted not to. See, he missed school pictures this year due to his trip West with his dad in Oct, then was in PE when they called his grade for make ups. Oh, was I pissed when I later found out. School pictures are not an option for him, I told him. They are for his mother. And the yearbook. We we are both lacking.

So we went to Wally's for the "cheap" make up version. Ha! Instead of a $25 set at school, this was $125. In a whim, I got in a few, too. In my sweats. I figured if he was going to have a whole chapped mouth, then I could do it in sweats.

I made plans to see Lyd in Seattle at the end of February. Her best friend from HS, someone she hung out with a lot the last year or two as well, lives there. Moved up in August or so in true lesbian fashion - met a woman online and rented the UHaul within two months. Life on the edge.
Because Lyd and I have the same phone carrier and talking is free, we spend too much time on the phone. I think it's why I'm not blogging, or painting for that matter.

I'll do better and get it all together. I hope each of you are doing very well.

I'm also overdue for some blog reading

2008-12-07T01:35:00.000-05:00

I'm embarrassed that some of my favorite blogs have 20 posts waiting on me to read. My Baby/EDA folder stands at 194 entries. At 200, it'll stop adding them.

I really don't want to miss any news and will try to buckle down later today. I am so sorry to have not kept up or commented. Thank you if you commented here nonetheless.

Also on the slate for today - birds and bees. They'll do the videos at school for 5th graders in a week. I watched them Friday in the school library on my own. I have been woefully shy about having an informed son, which is really contrary to my world view and I am embarrassed. I'll try to make up for it today. The school's videos and slides really concentrated on the effects of puberty, what happens with fertilization, and the types of STDs there are. The latter just curled my toes, as all viral ones were linked together and associated with things like death. Ugh.

None talked about what sex is or specifically how that damn sperm is deposited in order to meet that damn egg. I just shake my head thinking how easy the union sounds and how scared all girls (in particular) are of their own fertility. Funny how that plays out for some of us. Or, actually, not so funny.

I got an interesting email from a local woman I'd emailed maybe two months ago. She'd seen my ad much like the Indian woman did, but she was in the process of moving, seemed quite busy, so we lost touch. Imagine my surprise to get her email today saying she'd met this Indian woman (although she wasn't her type), discussed this online source, and then my name came up. Jeez, it is a small world. Apparently the Indian woman did not disclose the reason she thought she and I were so incompatible, so this woman contacted me for another go around.

It is plum amazing. I guess one or the other of them put up an ad there. I had only done the one ad, got maybe 6-8 people who responded, but only had two people I'd go out with. These two people. Eerie, huh?

I haven't decided whether or not to pursue it. The Indian woman scared me too much. I appreciate her not blabbing my personal business, but I kind of feel like she's setting me up. Yeah, I'm paranoid.

At present, I don't want to consider myself to be in an exclusive relationship with Lyd. I have this capacity (good or bad) to compartmentalize feelings and not want or demand more out of a person than I am able to accept. I have that sort of relationship with Richard as well. I love him, but I don't have to possess him. Of course, Lyd does not think in these terms.

Let me get to sleep and recharge for a big day.

I'm overdue for a post

2008-12-03T19:32:00.002-05:00

You probably know that when something goes well, you just want to bask in it and not dissect it.

We all had a great time over Thanksgiving. Virgin America is supreme with their individual touch screens and ordering menu. Way cool with the technology. Going out, I watched three Housewives of Orange County in preparation. Also saw a couple Top Chef but for architecture students shows.

We got in late and stayed in LA the first night, Monday. Lyd met us there after she got of work and had lucked into being off until Saturday. Got up and went to Ft. Irwin CA to see the desert and get a satellite tour. We met up with an old co-worker of hers and spent a fun evening at her house with her family, who Lyd knew well. Drove back to her home and stayed over. Met her step dad (a chatty good old boy type) and her mother (a frenzied psycho control freak and she showed her butt for us.) I'd gotten a painting framed for Lyd and to match her room. Unfortunately, I decided to present it to her mother for their "home," although Lyd had already "claimed" it. Of course, her mother didn't claim to hear the Lyd part, promptly took something off the wall, and put mine up. I was crushed for Lyd, but you can't go up against her mother. It's freaky. Instead, I'll paint Lyd another of these particular eucalyptus trees she likes, so it'll be more personal anyway.

We went almost 2000 miles and I took almost 2000 pictures. I'll have plenty of subjects to paint once I force myself to paint from photographs.

That day, we went over to Monterey. I'd been raining pretty much the whole time we were there and continued that way. We had dinner at the Fisherman's Wharf and then drove through San Francisco wayyyy up to Eureka for about 13 hours of travel that day. I drove the few hours and made Lyd sick in the mountains; she's a primo wuss. Can't believe the speed limit was 65 on those mountain roads. I'm a good driver, but she didn't let me drive again. Instead, we had to go more like 40 when she drove. After I got home Saturday, I told her on the phone that I would be doing the driving next time, even though we drove each other crazy. She said that if I drove, I couldn't take pictures and she has a point.

From Eureka, we came back south a little to the Avenue of the Giants and the Redwood Forest. It was like entering a different world. She'd never been before, either, so it was wonderful for us all to experience it together. We took a side trip to Ferndale to see the Victorian homes and another to the coast where we saw a lighthouse and a black sand beach. Going and coming, we picked up hitchhikers - despite her youth, Lyd is a throwback - and they both reeked of alcohol. We figured out that that 20 mile stretch of road over that mountain was these people's lifeline. They had no concept of ferigners in their parts, particularly on Thanksgiving without a special meal to attend. I asked one guy if they played banjos and it went straight over his head and he started talking about hip hop. I was biting my lip.

We did finally have Thanksgiving at the only restaurant we could find open. These little towns along there didn't even have gift shops or gas stations open, each barely with a couple buildings. This restaurant had the worst service I've gotten in a while. Starting off, it took forever to order, so I sent to the manager and politely asked if maybe we'd been forgotten. She replied with a classic line, "No, you haven't been forgotten. She's just slow as Moses." It was hilarious her ragging on her employee like that.

That night, we continued south back toward San Francisco. I never sleep, but I was nodding off so badly that I couldn't help with the drive. We stayed north of the city and toured the city until 1pm the next day. We took cable cars up, then a taxi down. He went down curvy Lombard for us. The best thing was Lyd's favorite place - a museum of old timey amusements, squashed pennies, player pianos, etc at one of the wharfs.

From here, we drove back down to LA for our red eye flight. All told, I painted six small paintings, a couple of which I am happy about. Lyd would randomly stop and I'd paint where we were, then she'd keep us on schedule and get us on the road. Carrying my pastels in their new trays and bag worked well. It was easy getting through the airport here, but LAX had more kinks. The little guy was overzealous, almost dumped a tray, had no comprehension of why I would be nervous, him defaulting to the idea I must be a drug smuggler or terrorist, and broke the zippers on each side of the special pastel bag - they seem to be self correcting, but I figure they're damaged.

For anyone who stops by the art blog, Lyd does read and comment anonymously there. She's very whimsical and, if there's a nonsense comment, it's from her. She's very supportive and I appreciate it so much. Through the week I complained that I didn't have enough grayed out pastels, then I blogged it with a link, thinking my father might take the hint. Instead, she ordered them immediately. She's very thoughtful and has a great heart. She planned the whole trip and did a great job; that's usually my role and it was wonderful turning it over.

I had faith the trip would turn out well and I am relieved that it did. I'm glad we only spent one night at her house. I don't do egg shells well and admire her for being able to be the caretaker for both of them as well as her even worse princess of a grandmother, who I only saw briefly.

I really think a lot of her and am in awe of how she takes care of me and feels for me. And how good she is to my son.

Got your own back, Sista?

2008-11-23T18:27:00.000-05:00

While you are chewing over the XBox vs. Wii debate, consider something else.

Besides packing and fearing my pastels will be dust upon arrival in CA, a strange drama has unfolded.

Last Monday or so, a woman on a dating website started a new thread saying she was disappointed in a man with whom she'd been emailing. He finally said he wasn't interested several days after she divulged that she has a bipolar 14yo son. I've seen plenty of posts about this boy in the past - he's stayed in residential facilities, she hasn't worked in the last year in order to care for him, she moved back to live by her parents so that he'd get care. Okay, the kid is troubled.

Anyway, she posted that the man dumped her because of her bipolar son. During the course of the threads with little details she'd dropped, I realized that the man was someone who'd I'd also been talking to and he seemed like a very responsible father. He seemed honest and forthcoming, a good guy. She, on the other hand, was prone to hyperbole, or that was my opinion in the past.

I responded on that thread that I'd done my bit with a troubled teen and I sure would think twice about doing it again. Maybe the guy was saying that out of experience. Mostly I was thinking that she was being a martyr playing the sick kid card and he had plenty of other reasons to reject her.

He and I were scheduled for lunch on Saturday. We had a good time. At one point I brought up the post. The post was created in a pwp woman's section which is for girl's only, but I felt that it was appropriate to discuss it, b/c it related to a guy that I had a date with and I felt that we could discuss it in an adult fashion.

As I had suspected, he said he discontinued with her more b/c he was not attracted to her - she is not h/w proportionate at all, but her picture is creatively cropped; he got a fully body picture of her to realize that. He said it wasn't b/c of her son, but she went there with him in emails. He'd merely said that he understood she had her hands full with him. Anyway, she went off and he felt her unstable, something he'd already sensed. A few days later, he considerately emailed her and asked if she was doing alright. He got a terse, "I'm fine," and that was all.

I believed him, b/c I feel like he is genuine and a good father. I do not believe her b/c I have doubted her stories before. I think she embellishes an element and completely leaves out pertinent details, then tries to garner support. She also dropped entirely too many details in her post and made it too easy for me to figure out. That's her bad.

Well, I thought the guy was okay. However, he goes home from lunch and emails her to quit talking about him. Oy! Talk about stabbing me in the back!

She then starts another thread in this pwp girl's only section, saying there's a rat amongst the group who is blabbing details. It's become a witch hunt with the posts, because someone supposedly betrayed something confidential pertaining to the sisterhood.

First, I already had little respect for this woman. Second, me having a conversation about her thread was not to badmouth her; it was to interview this guy I had a date with. Third, I am absolutely positive that others discuss things within this email group with other members.

According to some, the rat is an unconscionable attention hog, which is funny b/c the rat hasn't spoken. Others say the rat is catty - as if this (sorry) whale of a woman (very Catholic, very martyry, very repressed) were even in the same category of a person as me.

I'm usually the upstanding type claiming what I should, but I do not feel like being ostracized over either of these two. I was justified in having a conversation about something that pertained to me - as in, if he didn't like bipolar people, there was no reason to continue.

Anyway, I haven't posted there all day, so I look busy. Then tomorrow we leave, so I won't be back into the mix for a week. I hope it blows over.

Women. Maybe I shouldn't be in the girl's club. I do not understand them.

Before we leave...

2008-11-23T14:19:00.000-05:00

I want to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving! And that you eat hearty, but each lose two pounds. Except Aunt Becky who must only maintain.

While I'm away basking in Sunny California, which is supposed to be rainy, I have a request of you. Tell me all about these Wii things and XBox 360 monsters. I hate such, but my mother wants to get us a Wii for Xmas without J's knowledge. He has an old PS2 at his father's and it seems like the world revolves around him getting new games.

Without him knowing my mother's specifics, he really doesn't want a Wii, says XBox 360 does most things a Wii can do, plus much more. And it comes with two games now.

My mother wants me to buy it and she'll pay me back. Well, I haven't bought it yet, b/c I really don't want to front it right now.

Do you know of these things I speak? Do you have guidance?

Stress regardless of season

2008-11-18T12:15:00.001-05:00

Thank you so much for each and every comment.

My gyn/thyroid doctor had changed me to Armour in April. As always, she started low and titrated upward. It is a slow process and I want it to be slow, seeings how I've had two thyroxine overdoses already. So she raised me from 75ug to 90 on Friday. Maybe it'll work, may it'll need more.

It takes a lot of energy and mindfulness to keep track and figure out which is causing what symptom. It can make one a little paranoid about symptoms, which in itself might be a side effect due to either too little thyroxine (ie depression and anxiety) or to too much thyroxine (ie mania.)

Like Bridge said, it's nice if you can err on the side of too much thyroxine. I lost 30lbs that first year and sure could use the boost again, although the heightened anxiety is causes does not feel good. I don't like second guessing everything I say, even as I am bursting at the seams to say it!

As a side, I've had a presumably related scalp issue since August, although it's not the first time I've had it. It is broken out, kind of acne-like, but also very dry and crusty; it's painful and one is compelled to scratch it. The bumps are also along all of my hairline, but especially in the back and behind my ears. It is visible. I've read boards where many people describe this very thing and have no cause or cure. I've been wondering if it's thyroid-related, so we'll see.

In related fashion concerning confounding dosages, I am taking it slowly on the Concerta prescribed by my psychiatrist Friday; it is essentially Ritalin. I plan to begin it in a few weeks, because I don't want the change to be confounded by the change in my thyroid med, too.

I felt somewhat better on Friday than Thursday, but then I started spotting on Saturday and I figured Thursday may have been to a progesterone drop, something to which I am very sensitive. The thing is that I'd had my period (they're very light since I came off bcps and they only last 2-3 days with only 24 or so in between) just the Saturday before, so it never occurred to me that my crash might be progesterone-related.

Add peri-menopause or, I guess, menopause to the mix.

The show/demonstration thing on Saturday went well. It was fun meeting people. One lady is a lab person like me. She wants to paint, buys the supplies, mat cutters, etc to paint, then doesn't. She even had a topic in mind she wanted to paint, inquired at a gallery if they had one on this topic and they did, so she bought it instead of painting. She gave me a card in case I ever need a job, which I am glad of, with ex returning from Iraq in a month to no job. I worked for two years for the very company she began with this year as a project manager.

This lady has perfectionist's disease. She needs to just get dirty with abandon; classes would be good for her. When you realize that every painting doesn't have to be a masterpiece, it is liberating. Then, you discover that everybody has different tastes and your opinion of a painting doesn't matter if it speaks to someone else; it can be a masterpiece to them.

I've had a hard time producing art effectively lately. Either I had a chatty security guard (one session) or bad paper (four sessions) and it's gotten me down. I also post on an arts community for feedback sometimes. I try to put their advice into play sometimes and it is counter-intuitive. I wreck a piece with studio work, something that was perfectly plein air, meaning it was fresh, spontaneous, and perhaps a little bit fuzzy or stylized from being done on site with a moving sun.

Although I need to take critique, I need to maybe not respond to it. Anyway, I ruined two paintings that way, but finished two others despite that. I guess I'm 50-50 lately in responding to suggestions.

The thing that put me over last week was being criticized for my framing. I'd brought two pieces to a meeting as part of a show and tell. This woman blurted out how pastels should be framed with a spacer next time I do it - as if I were an inexperienced idiot framer. I replied that all of my stuff is professionally framed and she blurted out, "A professional did that?!" I was mortified. She said she saw no space between the mat and the painting. I said I saw a small space. A space is put there so that errant pastel crumbles will fall away and be hidden, in particular, that they not fall down the front of the mat and soil it.

Anyway, this was occurring in front of over a dozen people. She's president of a different art society and she's seen as an authority figure. And now I feared being seen as a hacker with a cheap framer. I didn't mouth off about my framer's credentials, but he does all the pastels in the area, to include my old teacher, who is nationally recognized and even won a show this summer.

I am at a loss what to do, except bring another piece next month and firmly/nonchalantly say what my framer pointed out, b/c I went by to see him on Friday afternoon. Some pastels he frames like she says, with a spacer (often just another piece of mat board) between the matting and the painting. One thing he does not like about this is that the paper isn't secured by the mat and waffling occurs. The way he framed mine is called a reverse cut and it accounts for the small gap I saw. If the mat's bevel faces inward, it catches stray pastel and funnels it behind the mat. It also serves the purpose to be in contact with the painting and prevent it from waffling. He might have done mine that way because mine are quite burnished (I press the pastel into the sanded paper, so it isn't mobile) and behave.

I am finding that through another society it is a kiss of death to be considered amateur. This happening with this society was a surprise and I was very upset. I always figured my work would speak for itself, but I don't want to be chopped off at the knees over something stupid. That night, she quashed the mood and I only got one comment on each piece. I didn't feel that they were allowed to speak for themselves.

I really hate when artists are left brained and, it seems that in a right brained undertaking, there are an awful lot of left brained people. I'm right brained, but when taxed I swing into left brain overload.

Okay, if you're still with me, we have some really good news. J is finally getting his braces off in a month. Believe it or not, it's been 18 months since they were put on. I think they'll be off a week before his father gets home. I'm trying to change J's teeth cleaning appt to be in the days between the braces come off and when his dad gets home, just in case insurance changes really quickly.

Strange to think of ex potentially being unemployed soon. Hoo boy, does that impact me. I could well be bankrupt in two months.

So how was this peek into my stressors? I can't blame myself for reacting.

Pity rant

2008-11-14T00:48:00.001-05:00

It has been a tough week, a tough two months.

This week I learned the school district is making some changes, just the wrong ones. I learned that my son has to go to the school seven miles away for six years, that he won't be coming back to the school one mile away at all, like I'd been led to believe with school announcements two years ago.

I need to calculate how long it takes to ride over 14 miles a day for six years, versus two. Simple put, it is seven times longer.

Buses are the bastions of the infidels.

This stuff has skewered me to the soul and it will take a long to get over how angry I am at the school board once again. We go through this about every other year. I feel powerless.

Some stuff has happened over the last two months that has shaken me artistically.

I go to two doctors tomorrow - my thyroid/gyn and my psychiatrist. It's not a moment too soon. My thyroid medicine is not doing the trick; look at my broken out body and see that. My new, timed-release ADD med did alright for a few days, but I'm afraid it's what is crashing me. I only started it last week, beginning with one. After a few days, I went up to two, the recommended dosage. I began feeling really good, being jovial and chatty, too chatty perhaps, but happy. The previous med I'd taken made me edgy and anxious and saying all the wrong things, so I was liking the new. On this new one, I felt good, hypomanic even, the lovely productive time that comes before crazy mania, which I do not get. I asked my therapist Wednesday if she thought it was hypomania, but she said to relax and enjoy it. Strange, b/c for all the focus it was supposed to provide, I was completely unproductive. And my mind was prone to racing.

Of course there will be no answers tomorrow. I have no faith. And the stimulation of the thyroid meds already made my hands shake. Adding an amphetamine doesn't help.

I am sick of being sick somehow and having so many confounding factors.

I'm tired of hating on myself and feeling justified when I do it. I don't want to get into how bad it is.

There's so much more, but I'll stop here.

Suffice it to say that I am prickly and depressed.

I guess the good (but scary) news is J and I going to visit Lyd for Thgvg in CA. If you'll recall, she and I are great friends by phone and email, the but second time I saw her, she came here w/out money, acted the fool, etc. A good while after that, we renewed our friendship and I care for her like I did; I fear seeing her and being turned off.

This is one of those positive life circumstances that is too stressful.

I am maxed out.

Show and Tell: Scouting for Eww?

2008-11-09T09:41:00.002-05:00

Last weekend, the bags were distributed. This weekend, bags of food were picked up.

Just like last year, I had J for the pick up weekend. A year ago, we got a small area, two or three courts of townhouses, and we only got about six or eight bags. People lamented the economy.

This year, because of fewer people available to do pick up, we got a much larger area, several times that of last year. And despite the economy, we got over 50 bags. These two were happy, busy boys, except...

Starting out, we'd been confused by newspapers that looked like Scout bags on the elevated stoops. So many leaves made it confusing, too. At one point early on, I spotted a bag with the ears/handles straight up and J hopped up on the porch to get it.

He rushed over. He paused. He picked it up and poked. He came back down the stairs, then seized in terror, ran back to the door to deposit the bag from whence it came.

Simultaneous to that, I realized what the bag was: a stinky diaper so bad that they'd put it outside.

J, aka Mr. Clean Hands, was mortified to have any residuals on his hands, but I had no wipes. So my hair, my clothes, and my hands received all the diaper cooties.

I am still laughing.

Thanks to Mel for helping me out with an occasion to share this shite-filled story.

Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Water

2008-11-08T06:12:00.001-05:00

Tara chose water as our word for the week.

I'll concentrate on a few water pictures from yesterday, which was beautiful. In fact, the forecast called for a great day, so I canceled a first date lunch date (the guy is a lawyer and I'd hope he'd impress me more in person that he has on the phone or by email - he's very dry and much like the last patent attorney I dated last Spring) so I could paint. Well, I actually canceled with plenty of notice, before noon on Wednesday, and then that evening several painter friends had the same idea for Friday and invited me along.

I stopped at this location, planning to paint water. Instead, I painted up the hill to the bell tower of a church and included no water. The scene looks prettier than this picture, because the camera focused on the drapy limb thing.

^The water reflects an incredible blue, which is outside the picture frame of the sky.

^I love how powerful the clouds appear in the water's reflection.

I need to figure out what body of water this is.

Today so far, but to include the weekend

2008-11-03T09:19:00.000-05:00

Anybody notice I'm not doing NaMoBloMe this year? It is making me so happy. I receive the emails and sigh in non-participatory contentment.

I had J's Parent-Teacher Conference this morning at 8:20. He stayed home in bed. His teacher was very impressed with him and how he has busted butt since mid-term. I wish they had some continuity in their grading forms, but at interim he had 3 Cs (his first Cs ever!) and 4 Bs. For his finals, he had 5As, a vast improvement. When I got home and showed him, he whispered, "I feel so proud." I told him to pocket that feeling for motivation later.

I got home and told him I'd take him to Dunkin Donuts for a treat, but he's downstairs watching TV instead. Booger. I needed more sugar after the past few days of gorging.

The weekend painting workshop was fun. The instructor had a great sense of humor and really emphasized drawing the first day. Okay, I might had had a crush on him. Shucks about that being married thing.

He liked my pictures and the way I had them printed light, medium, dark, and B/W, using them over and over as examples. I chose to do the first picture. It was the main example he referenced, so I got used to seeing it. I'd also printed up the red turtleneck one and an additional shot from pre-school I'd forgotten to post. The other pictures did not blow up well enough to try to use.

When I picked up J afterward, he saw the picture in the dim car. His first reaction was that it looked like him. That's the positive part. It does, however, look like a first attempt as oil painting. His face looks chalky and I have to blame that in part on the cheap Daler Rowney paints and Utrecht white they provided. When we got inside in the light, J started picking the details apart like a good little critic, but I kept falling back on the fact that it was my first attempt. I think I might try it again with my Grumbacher paints, which dry a little more slowly and have more of a sheen to them.

So, it was good and I learned a lot. I wish we'd gotten more individual instruction instead of just group art lectures. He hung out, kinda wasting time, mostly spending time keeping busy actually doing the paintings of two women. One had a lovely painting already and he put in the eyes and a few other details. The second woman, who is an officer of this art group, so I expected her skill level to be high, essentially had him do her painting for him. She'd say that the eyebrow was off, and he'd correct it. Then she'd say the hair was wrong and he'd fix it. I hope she doesn't claim the piece as her own, because he put several hours into it.

I'm just jealous. I wish he'd have put time into mine. Not really, but the personalized instruction would have been helpful.

Classes always seem to to work this way. Individualized instruction is advertised, but it all collapses into one or two people.

Which brings me to my pastel class this afternoon. I have four sessions left. The instructor is literally a clown. She is individualized, yes, giving the attention back to herself. She loves to hear herself talk. As a result, in a 2.25h class, we get about 45 minutes or less to actually paint the figure and we're always hurrying at the end or the model volunteers to stay over. Last week, she talked so much that she didn't even do a demonstration, so we had to do the head on our own.

You ever been in a class in which you wanted to kill anyone for asking a question and getting the instructor started up again? Yeah, it's that kind of class.

I noticed last week that the woman on the opposite end of the room was doing her own thing as the instructor blabbed/gestured/acted/self-aggrandized on. I took this to mean frustration. I brought it up with a lady in my painting workshop over the weekend, as the three of us take the pastel class together. Apparently others are as frustrated as I am.

Another thing that frustrates me is that the class is supposed to be nine weeks long. The instructor was going to be out of the country for one week and didn't want to fool with adding a class on the end, although I didn't see the issue. Instead, she decided it would be best to add 15 minutes to each of the other eight classes. She tried to tack it on the end of the class, but I requested that not be the case with J on his own for a little bit. I mostly wanted her to take back the 15 minute plan, but instead she tacked it on to the beginning of the class. I felt railroaded and I learned this weekend that I wasn't the only one. Taking away a class reduces the number of models and poses, which is just wrong.

Sorry, I guess this became a rant spilling over. I have yet to find the perfect art teacher, but I anticipate that I will continue trying.

I'm glad I have this blog so I don't complain on the other one. However, I will not be posting pictures of the portrait anywhere anytime soon.

Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Street

2008-11-01T21:23:00.000-05:00

Word on the street, Churlita chose this week's topic.

Sometimes the street compliments a good sunset shot.

This busy street in Cozumel was full to taxis and horse carriages. This also shows a quiet cross street.

This roadside mercado in Costa Rica served the tastiest berry juice. It always fascinates me when buildings are constructed close to the street.

Streets on Roatan, Honduras are actually quite dusty.

This guy walking down the street on Roatan just cracked me up. I guess cotton candy needs transporting somehow.

As we were leaving Roatan, Honduras, we went this scenic route. Technically, it's a street, I guess.

They lost that day, but it didn't matter to the boy. He took his fan spirit to the street.

Me in 30 years

2008-10-30T18:21:00.000-05:00

Blogging and pictures

2008-10-27T19:08:00.000-05:00

In the last month, I've learned that a very small percentage of the people you tell/email about your blog or that you give them a card about it actually go to the blog - even if that someone knows me well or shares significant interests. If I said one in 20, it would be too high a viewership. It's closer to one in 50, tres disappointing.

Is not the rest of the world addicted to the Internet like me?

I really like the Blogger server that blog is on. It actually saves posts as they're being typed and allows for scheduling, which actually works. I desperately wish this blog's server worked properly.

It seems that the Indian woman comes by at least every other day. She checks out all links and pictures. It still baffles me. Ha! Maybe she realizes she made a mistake, because I am at least quality enough to hang out with, oh, every couple days.

This weekend I am taking an oil portraiture workshop while J is with his stepmother. Although I loathe the idea of painting from a picture, I know it's the only way I'll get a portrait of him. I'm still waiting on the supply list and instructions, but I began choosing pictures of my son to potentially use. I've learned in that past that it's important that the face be properly shadowed in order to provide definition. I'll include a couple and you can vote on your favorite. I'm not sure if the instructions will be for just a head shot or not, so I'm including both, although I probably prefer a head shot.

1) Last Day of Pre-School

2) At our Favorite Gardens

3) Making Gingerbread Houses in K

4) His favorite place to walk and play

5) Train Display with Friends

Okay, I love this picture of him, but I have a bad association with that day.

Until doing this post, I had a clear favorite, but now I'm less sure.

I like how Picasa works with Ritz and pictures come back quickly. I'll probably have a number printed - the picture, the picture w/extra shadow, the picture with more filler light, and the picture in BW. So, I need to narrow it down a bit if I'll be getting so many versions made.

I took a series of silly pictures of him back when I had my $40 digital. I wish I could use one of them. Beyond thumbnail size, they are a blur, but while I'm on the topic, I include some here because they are so cute and I've never had a use for them before.

J's all Vogue...

Don't forget to vote for one of the top five.

Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Burn

2008-10-25T07:28:00.002-05:00

This week's word is the choice of AlienCG. I hope I do it justice.

Oh, this burned me - careless landscapers.

Memorial Day was burning hot and this Marine was out there paying tribute in burning hot wool.

Burn rubber.

He might be fair, but I burn much worse.

Sometimes the kid burns the parent.

Sometimes, perhaps verging on all the time, the kid burns the marshmallow.

Water flowing from a volcano can create burn-like conditions.

Be careful you don't get burned.

Question

2008-10-23T19:51:00.000-05:00

It was bound to happen. I came out with a Real Me website and there's someone I wish didn't know.

Remember the herpes phobia Indian woman? She stayed away for about three weeks, but something got hold of her recently, I guess. Apparently she emailed my art link to a friend in India, who clicked in via Google mail. An hour later, the hysterical phobic came and looked through several pages. I believe this was Monday wee hours. Since then, she's come a number of times, including twice so far today.

She obviously has no concept of a counter. I do not like seeing her or being reminded of what she represents. I also do not like her continued knowledge of me, because my art blog includes me posting where I am painting outside with the group probably once or twice a month. I do not want to be stalked - Internet, well okay, but please not in person. I do not want baby-killer-like Herpes signs or STD cat calls.

My dilemma is letting on to her that I can see her. Should I give away that information? I really want to tell her that I can see her, with the hopes of that scaring her off. She is generally a mild person, but I don't know if she's involved friends who will buck her up to pester me.

I knew having my name on a blog would be Worlds Colliding. Any suggestions?

Show n Tell: No gifts for this anniversary

2008-10-19T10:35:00.001-05:00

Four years ago today, I wrote, "If I can't have a baby, at least I can have a blog." I thought I was being cheeky, not realistic.

It seems very strange that I ever really thought I could have another child. I look back and see black, but I try so hard to not look back.

I also try to not look away when I am behind a baby in the grocery line. I do not deny her when my son's 3yo half sister asks me to pick her up. I am trying to live in this world of other people's children.

In situations like this, I've come a long way. In many ways, though, I haven't. Before, I turned the infertility on myself with self-blame for the unknown, which I realized I really didn't deserve. Now I turn the infertility on myself a different way: that I was daft enough to believe, to think I'd have or find a partner wanting to and worthy enough to procreate with me, to hope it might finally work again after years of trying. Feeling foolish feels awful, as does failure.

Back when I was about 30, I once did an exercise during a lunchtime talk about the Inner Child. Me of the rare tear had to rush from the room sobbing; I could not talk to or visualize me as a little child. All I could do was cry for the naivete of that poor, optimistic little girl who was so clueless about her outcome.

I feel that way now, looking back on my years of infertility. I sob with sadness at how I put so much into thinking I might get what comes to the rest of the world so naturally and effortlessly. The grief is doubled in the sense that I am still infertile, I have no hope to ever succeed, and the hope I did have almost disgusts me now. I don't know what I would say to my Inner Infertile. Give up? Don't prolong the grief? Cut your losses, because you will not succeed?

At 46, I know I'm just too old. I manage, sometimes as if walking though water, conscious of each wave and labored movement, yet putting on the good face, even on this blog, which was a secondary infertility blog. For years, I didn't even try to put on the good face. Now, I don't know if I am wearing a mask.

I measure my community by my Bloglines lists. Used to be, I had lots and lots of people in my IF/SIF/Adopt category. Those were the people I understood and very few remain. These days, I might get 3-5 posts per day there to read, because I cannot not seek out the newly infertile to expand the list. All but a very, very few (who probably no longer blog) graduated in some form or fashion to my Babies/EDA section. Right now, there are 19 messages waiting for me, but I always have to be strong when I read that category, putting on that brave face as I am conscious of each wave and labored comment.

Thanks to Mel for hosting the Show and Tell.

Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Nuisance

2008-10-18T05:00:00.001-05:00

I chose this week's word because of laura b. and I elect AlienCG for next week's.

My choice was based on my not being able to finish the painting of this location due to a nuisance security guard:

The picnic table, kid, computer, trashcan, fence, and silly tree in the middle are such nuisances in trying to paint the meadow beyond. At various times, the meadow had its own reflective light show.
Sunsets are so pretty, but the impending lack of light is a real nuisance.

I loved my apple tree, but the neighbors considered it a nuisance because of the messy fruit and benign bees. I only decided it was a nuisance when it almost tipped over onto the cars from the weight of too many apples.

He's such a cute widdle nuisance.

Go away, Kind Sir

2008-10-13T10:50:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to paint this long weekend while J was gong with his dad to Tucson. Ex will be home another 10 days or so until he returns to Iraq for two more months. December. I hope life will return to normal in December and I get to stop dealing with his wife.

So, I've painted close to home, close to the place with the showy clouds from a few weeks ago. I did one Saturday of a small clump of trees. I wasn't quite happy with it, so I decided to go back yesterday, chose a different angle, decided on bigger paper which would also take longer, went a little earlier.

I was so happy with how it was progressing. I'd chosen a different angle and the colors were spectacular. Then I hear commotion and I realize I am busted. My car and I are about 200 yards into a cut through road that is apparently off limits. Well, that's what both the sign I ignored and the security guard said.

At first, he wanted me to leave. He told be to go to a park barely down the road. I asked, for future reference, where that park ended and where the restricted area began, saying, "This clump of trees isn't down there." Then I asked where I could park around there, if I could walk back over. Finally I offered to move my car across the street, where he'd indicated. Then he asked how much longer I'd be and I said 45 minutes, but definitely before the sun goes down. So he said to stay.

THE SUN IS MOVING, PEOPLE. I DO NOT LIKE IDIOTS TO WASTE MY TIME WHILE I PAINT.

However, I think he had ulterior motives to dither away every bit of my allotted 45 minutes. And then some, because it was dark before I was freed.

This guy started in how he lived in New Zealand and liked the painters, how mine would fit in. Then he talked at length about living in Germany and Finland. And his various women, where they went, what they saw. Then he started in about his athletic careers and how he performed overseas. He asked if I did portraits; he wants one of a sports action picture he had. (I referred him to my pastel teacher, then he worried how much someone like that would cost.) Oh, he has Wiki entries in two sports, which he wrote down for me to check and then call after I looked. He's from the next state over and has only lived here two months. He has an Associates and a Bachelor's in Criminal Justice. And how people are racist and how bad this election will be, either way. And the economy is bad, too. And Armageddon is coming, so I should get a concealed weapon permit for while I paint outside, because one shouldn't bring a knife to a gun battle. And lots more religion. And he asked me if I could cook. And more religion.

You get the picture. I guess he's ADD and I should have some sympathy, but he fucking would not shut up. Yet he was the authority figure and I felt I had to tow the line. Oh, and I'm representing myself as an artist with a business thingy now, so I had to be professional. I'd given him my card as part of the early exchange when I was trying to establish myself with him. Yes, the man has my name, phone number, blog, and email address.

Guess where I'll be before sunset again today. Please, Good Lord of the Traveling, Religious, Athletic, Diarrhea-of-the-Mouth Security Guards, let me unto myself.

FYI

2008-10-10T13:46:00.000-05:00

If you might be interested in purchasing anything from Zazzle this weekend - from me or anyone else - they're offering 14.92% off for the holiday.

Contact me if you're interested in my account or use the link from the sidebar on my art blog. I only have about a dozen things designed, which amounts to my paintings on t-shirts, onesies, totes, etc. I can specialize or add more as desired.

No biggie if you're not interested, but for those among us who like sales, the whole site would be a fun place to peruse.

I am placing an order myself - the sale has gotten me off the stick. I want business cards as well as shirts for J, his half sister, and me.

The items are cool b/c all customers can redesign anything on them for your needs. I wanted J to have an interesting shirt which also would serve to advertise for me. I chose one I'd created and I told him he could fool with the fonts, positioning, etc to get it the way he wanted. Of course, he "simplified" the front - took off my art company name/location and added a ginormous stencil of his name, so it looks $(#^*% military. Then the title on the back was changed into the same stupid stencil font. I had a phrase on the bottom that he left alone, but I told him I would not order the t-shirt unless it advertised me somehow, so that's stuck in tiny print at the very bottom.

Be careful what you wish for. Perhaps your customizing follies will be more fun.

I'm off to purchase and maybe make my advertising a wee bit larger on his shirt, ha! I'll take advantage of him being out of town with his dad (home for 2 weeks) and do what I please!

Hand

2008-10-07T11:48:00.000-05:00

Yesterday's art class started off rocky because of the phone call, but the angst went away immediately. For the second week in a row, I sat in art class with a naked man. This week, the instructor demonstrated on the guy's foot. It cracked me up that a nude was needed so she could draw his foot.

When it came time for the class to do a 40 minute drawing, my vantage point was good in that the junk was hidden by his thigh in profile. I concentrated on the triangle created by his bent knee, which was draped with his arm. It was a much larger area than anyone else choose and I probably bit off more than I could chew. I had the leg's proportions seriously off, but I am relatively happy with his relaxed hand.

It reflects her style, which uses the edge of the pastel, hence you get the lines extending past. She likes this feel, as it implies dynamic motion. As such, you're feeling out your lines and repositioning them a lot instead of trying to outright draw the figure. It literally gives wiggle room. I hope I get good at it. Learning her technique makes me want to be successful at it.

Confused

2008-10-06T15:23:00.001-05:00

It was a good weekend. It was a varied weekend. It did not end well.

I saw the Indian woman on Friday afternoon for a walk and lunch and we'd planned on Saturday night, too. She's a companion for her father and rarely gets the house to herself. He would be gone and she excitedly wanted me to come over.

She'd mentioned having purchased dental dams (oral sex barriers) after my talk, although I do not have a huge need for having or using them. I prefer action other ways and told her as much, but she insisted she wanted them.

We went to see Vicky Christina Barcelona and I liked it, found it very romantic. Afterwards, we went back to her house and she prepared a quick dinner. While it was in the oven, I put a move on her. I thought it's what I was invited there for. She rolled with it and responded, seemed happy. It was like this all evening. She had on black lace and helped me unbutton her blouse. She asked me downstairs to her room after eating. Things went very well and all was safe.

She showed me lots of pictures and, after our contact, even showed me the dental dams she'd purchased - $11 for them and $20+ to ship them overnight. I figured she was serious about being prepared! She had led me on to this point, even though she didn't have her lab results back. I figured she'd make it safe and that me being on meds was a positive.

I was gone all day Sunday and came home to an email from her saying she's too scared to continue with me, could we just be friends. In my previous email which I wrote after I'd been at her house, I had offered to use her camera to take pictures of her, to show her how beautiful she is because of some things she'd said about her body and how photos speak her language. In this rejection email, she still said it'd probably be fine to take nude pictures of each other. I was quite confused, considering that she didn't have her test results back, yet it was okay to both reject me and to have me see her nude again.

Today she called as I was leaving for art class. She'd wanted to both talk to me and to see me. I said I'd talk to her after class, so I called then. Turns out her test was negative. She cannot handle the risk, because she only wants to live in this area one more year, no ties. (That's not the kind of friendship I want, either.) However, I made it clear that the risk is known with me and she hooks up with people off of CL who probably aren't exactly honest with her. It's the second time I've been rejected by someone who would like to get their sex where they could and they simultaneously could not handle someone telling the truth. The known is worse than the unknown.

Dating outside h circles is absurd. The stigma is ridiculous. It's a fucking skin rash. Smack me if I bring dating up again.

She insisted that she was only rejecting me sexually, that she wants my company as a person and she thinks it's a valid differentiation. (I really do think she needs friends.) She also said something that floored me. She said she had no intentions for any sex to happen Saturday night. She thought we would kiss and cuddle. She never said that. I am not wired that way anyhow; touch me and I am ready. At no time, as she wore black lace bra and panties for show, did she indicate she was not interested or had other intentions. She propelled it, even if I was the one to start it in the kitchen; in fact, she commented we could skip dinner. She had professed the interest. She had made the moves kissing me a few days before. She was the one to feel me intimately on Wednesday. She invited me over during a time we'd be alone. I was following her lead.

But I am crushed at being considered an aggressor and that she was somehow reluctant. In fact, her email stated that I must have noticed her not being herself. Ha! She's an introvert who doesn't talk a whole lot, who I'd seen only three times previously, and I'd never been with her before. But she came twice, so I do believe she was doing just fine.

I loathe when something thinks I can read their mind or they change their story to cover for some remorse. When beginning with someone, I tend to be the more passive one, but I knew how much interest she had professed, how she had kissed and touched me and called me sexy.

I think she is a very confused person. These mixed signals are ridiculous. I am rejected, yet she still wants me to take nude photos of her. Absurd.

I also think she's crazy if she thought I could receive a rejection email (email! I bravely told her everything in person) on Sunday night and then potentially comfort and date her if she found out she was positive today. I was not feeling compassionate in the least after her email. How odd, that email.

She could have handled this so much better. She could have not held my hand each time we went on a walk. She could have truly waited for her results before she made intentions known to me. She could have been more clear about what she wanted Saturday night and she could have easily stopped our progression. She could have kept her fear to herself on Sunday until she knew her own status.

Prior to Saturday night, I could have just been friends. After "misunderstanding" her that profoundly concerning intentions, I don't want to take that risk again. We obviously are on different wavelengths, even though we get along and enjoy each other's company. She's so introverted, she doesn't talk much. I cannot read her mind. I cannot take the rap when she doesn't speak up; it might be even worse next time. I cannot take nude pictures of a woman who is rejecting me, as if friendly nude photo sessions were the norm, and then find she'd renege and accuse after it happened. I don't like being wrong in my judge of character and I find hers lacking.

I left it that I would think about it. Maybe I'll cool down in a few days, maybe not. I just don't do well with mixed messages, then hear, "Well, I don't want to point fingers, but..." and have that finger point squarely at me.

Kitties in pastel

2008-10-03T07:10:00.002-05:00

With my renewed interest in the business of art, I decided that I need to compromise and not work from life all the time. The rest of the world paints from pictures, so I should adapt sometimes. I want to paint year around, so then I need to use pictures. My class, where we do nudes from life, will suffice for my live model work.

BTW, here are two of the instructor's pieces. It's an odd and pleasing way to do the human form.

She did a 30 minute demo in class, so I decided to practice a little yesterday. Well, I really wanted to get started in class, but this is one long winded woman.

Art, to me, is done outside or in a classroom. However, it's the year of change, so I'm now calling the old desk in my office my studio. Saying that makes me giggle, but it sounds perfectly official. I've had to de-clutter the desk to accommodate my supplies better, but it just keeps getting cluttered again...with cats. They seem to love pastels and a new surface to explore, lounge upon, and wreck havoc.

This is Syl.vie in my pastel field box. The foam was popular with both she and B.eau.

Here's a boys lounging shot featuring Spen.cer, B.eau, and J.

B.eau joined me yesterday evening as I used the new pastel technique on my leg. He was happy hovering for a good while.

Then he suddenly flipped over, rolled around, and screamed cuteness.

Of course, pastel clung to his back, so I had to clean him off.

Shortly after this, Spen.cer decided this new art technique needed some company.

And then Syl.vie decided the same thing.

Mem.phis hopped up here later, but scooted when he saw me go for the camera.

They're like children in competition for the latest and greatest spots.

Looking at them and at my leg drawing, it's kinda like they're sitting on my lap.

J didn't like how the foot looks. It was in the shade as I drew and he said it looks like moldy cheese. What does he know?

Went well

2008-10-02T11:44:00.000-05:00

It was an awesome evening. She took the news well and is getting tested today. Because she uses her mother's gyn, who also knows her father, she'd planned on a walk-in clinic instead, but emailed today that she found an online clinic. She can take their script to the lab. I'm not sure if they do HSV at that lab (it's the company I used to work for and things beyond the basics are sent out), but she could have results as soon as tomorrow.

We walked around the streets of the old section of town holding hands. Me. Not being cautious. Me. We kissed on the street, a busy main drag. Me.

Now I don't feel brazen, but I do feel confident. I appreciate her strength.

During dinner, she gave me her beaded bracelet. She's also born in August; it's peridot, gold, and silver. I often wear a silver periodot ring, so it really suits me. I felt like we're going steady in HS when she put it on my wrist.

It's funny how neither one of us wants anything, but we like each other anyway and are rolling with it. I'll give her plenty of time to decide. I think I'd want her company regardless. We're going to a park tomorrow and going out on Saturday night.

The Talk

2008-09-30T14:35:00.000-05:00

I haven't discussed this in a long while, probably over a year, so it'll be news to my newer readers as well as a Public Service Announcement for others.

I guess I'm practicing. The reason I am broaching the subject now is because I need to have The Talk with my Indian friend tomorrow night. She's invited me to go away. She stated herself that she realizes the intentions that implies. It's forcing my hand, though, to tell her that I have herpes. I can't accept her kind offer (which she even later said it'd be her treat) without me being honest.

I've had it for 25 years, since my Senior year of college, and it is something I am always honest about, but there is always a timing consideration. If dating isn't going to lead to sex or anything else, I have no need to tell, although some people tell on or before the first date. If it looks like it's going that direction, I have to tell and I must do it in advance. It is not a good horizontal confession made during the heat of battle.

There are several factors at play. Approximately 25% of the population has herpes. The thing is that 90% of them don't know it or they pretend to not know that ingrown hair which keeps coming up must be something else. People are lucky with me in that I know it and will talk about it.

With so many people having herpes, there's always the chance that I'll get a, "Me, too!" in response. With the people who don't know they have it, it gets trickier. It is important for anyone with herpes who is going to engage in sex with a person of unknown status to have that person get tested; about 23% of the time the result will be positive. Remember, a routine STD panel does not test for herpes, so you have to specifically ask for it and that's a contributing factor to people not knowing. With these safe guards in place, though, the person cannot blame the new sexual partner for something that was pre-existing if an outbreak occurs. Further, fears about transmission are unfounded if positive.

With condoms and Valtrex, there is only a 1% transmission rate and it's seen as practically a cure. I, myself, prefer dating in the herpes community so I don't have to worry either about The Talk or potential transmission. Several men I've dated treated me different as sexual partners and that is insulting; one man even told me after we'd dated, "Cricket, I would have married you, if not for the herpes." Funny, I wouldn't have married any of them. I am much more a person than a silly rash.

Herpes is a skin virus. It has this strange stigma that is undeserved. It doesn't mean I'm dirty or promiscuous. It means I caught a virus, like a cold, that chose to live in a ganglion instead of going away. If you're interested in reading more, Good Virus Bad Virus is a good place to start. Just playing percentages, a hand full of my regular readers have it, whether they know it or not.

Snippet

2008-09-29T10:19:00.000-05:00

Another one for Evil-E.

They dun tagged the whole damn wedding party, homie.

Good surprise

2008-09-28T17:59:00.000-05:00

No scavengering. No show and telling. Well, maybe some telling.

I feel bad I don't have posts in me and I'm sure you're all heartbroken at the lack. bah

Been busy in a good way.

I learned that CDs are picky things to make and you can send them off empty to be juried into a gallery. However, they seem very cooperative, because everything you wanted there looked like it was there. Didn't know stuff didn't stick until you burned it. Windows is so confusing.

I did a pastel yesterday in my quest to do one each week. I really don't know how all those Painting A Day For A Year people do it; I could even eek out a little blog entry daily for a year, although I did come close.

Like I showed the other day, clouds are fascinating me. I like the clouds between the hurricanes, I guess. Was supposed to volunteer and paint at a festival, but prior to the time I'd had have to leave, it was cloudy and the ground was still wet from the night rains. Of course, it turned out to be a decent day, but I couldn't take the risk, especially with J in tow and a couple hours of driving. So instead, I went to a nearby park and we spent several hours poking around. He brought the laptop and watched movies, which bore such irony for me.

My version of this scene lacks the picnic tables, trash can, fence, kid, computer, and middle tree. Other than that, it looks just.like.this. (You're supposed to be laughing.) I'm working a little more on it before I do a reveal.

On another front, I have had two dates with a lady from India (she's been here 30 years) and will see her next Wednesday, too. She is living here as a companion to her father after her mother died. He wants her here and she's biding time, itching to go back to LA. With neither one of us really wanting a big relationship, it suits. She has two brothers in the area as well. None know of her sexual orientation, but she figures they suspect.

We both appreciate Chinese Astrology. She is absolutely an Earth Dog and I am absolutely a Water Tiger. We're destined to get along beautifully and be best friends. I don't believe in all that astrology crap, but sometimes it's sounds right. She is very quiet, unassuming, and genteel.

She went to art school and took up graphic design. She's been the Director of Art for a couple big name magazines you've definitely heard of. In LA, she was friends with some big names, to include people working with the movies. Friday at lunch, she told me she's going to a premier in NYC in a month. I made a big fuss over it, how much fun and fancy a premier would be, but she said she has a closet full of Indian dresses and they're pretty versatile for stuff like this. She said she'd been to a bunch in LA, but this is special because it's her friend.

She emailed me this evening and asked me to go to the premier with her! She'd just need to get another ticket; the hotel is paid for. Oh my!

She didn't say the date, so I don't know if it's a weekend I'm not parenting. I haven't emailed back yet. I have no money to be lavish or to buy premier-worthy clothes; I'm balking over a few hundred on a workshop in three weeks. She said NYC premiers are less a big deal than LA, but goodness! This film friend has movies I'd actually heard of and seen.

So I must think about it, but I must do so quickly to get a ticket. I need to get over feeling like a bumpkin.

What a curve. What a sparkly, flowing, silky curve.

I'm a ding bat sometimes

2008-09-23T07:52:00.000-05:00

I began on meds for ADD yesterday.

I felt absolutely nothing different physically or mentally, except to say I spent the entire day devoted to one task and I have an incredible new art blog to show for it! I put together about two dozen entries, researched and backdated them, wrote little stories about them, plus created a sidebar with links, bio, etc.

Yippee.

I still have more paintings to feature, but they'll require some photography.

Perhaps one day, I'll feel confident enough to let my blogging worlds overlap. My blog used to be so much racier and full of drama, to where it mattered if people I knew/loved read it. As it is, I guess I'd rather not reveal lifestyle changes to those who don't need to know.

In the mean time, I will be ditzy, you know, one of those ADD symptoms, and be signed in over on that account and comment on your blog, because you know how I love you.

Do me a few favors:

Delete my errant comment from your blog completely.
Feel free to visit and stroll through the art and stories.
Comment, as long as you do it without the clicky stuff leading to your blog, where I've probably commented and am on your blogroll. Go anon and then sign your name. Or something.
Feed my paranoia and compartmentalized life.
Don't stalk me.

Thank you very much for your kind consideration.

Rambling

2008-09-22T08:47:00.001-05:00

Decadence - what a fun word AND concept.

I'm all for simple pleasures and last week I engaged in one. I bought Bon Maman's Four Fruit Preserves.

Not only is it delicious, I am allergic to the strawberries in it and I don't care! Quelle decadence! Strawberries are my greatest forbidden fruit (hehe) and I partake of them quite infrequently, but I was in the mood to live on the edge. (I knew wouldn't have a reaction to strawberries unless I ate a tub or two.)

Next, I want to get some Marionberry from Oregon Berries. Isn't that hilarious? Marionberry!

And I want to buy some pear preserves. My grandmother who is in the nursing home due to Alzheimer's made the best pear preserves with tender but firm chunks of pears. Over the summer, I purchased a pear-lemon rind preserves in Williamsburg, but the lemon was overwhelming. In the mountains, I got a pear-cinnamon variety, but again the pureness of the pears did not shine. Amazon and Hillshire Farms carry some with pears alone, so I might begin a journey for some pear-only preserves. Years ago, I used my grandmother's recipe for making some, but mine were nothing like hers. I don't expect to find hers ever again, but it sure would be nice to get close.

The quest for pear preserves - my journey in decadence. What's yours?

Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Red

2008-09-20T07:53:00.000-05:00

Tara chose red as the word of the day.

Ha! I look good in red, just like I look good in blue! What a wonky smile! hehe

When I get this face, I see red. Oh yeah, he has red hair. Is there a relationship?

The festival last weekend was so colorful and beautiful. In this shot, the red flag matches the origin of the dancers. The fan dance they did was about a fairy.

Enjoy your red-inspired day - nice, warm fuzzies, not blinding anger, that is.

Atmospheric display

2008-09-19T15:24:00.002-05:00

Today the clouds were putting on a show. I was driving home from the store and was motivated to hurry and paint before J got home from school. I had to do pastels, because oils take so long to set up and paint, and I don't usually do skies in pastel. This was fun, though. I want to try it again with big, muddled up clouds. Wish you could see it from across the room, because it glows and has such depth. Squint your eyes at it to get a similar effect.

I can see where I was motivated by the painting I liked at the museum this summer - same swatch of ground glowing under a busy sky.

After I paint, I often think to myself that this piece would not be here if I didn't create it today. I like that feeling of catching something transient.

Visitor

2008-09-18T07:11:00.001-05:00

I came home on Friday to find this guy on my door. Luckily, I had my camera with me. I especially liked his fall coloring, but mostly I liked that he had the ability to turn his head and look directly back at me. It was eerie.

Okay, I would have freaked if he decided to fly or jump or whatever.

Wow

2008-09-16T14:05:00.000-05:00

Being rearended last week earned me $575. Who da thunk?

There were some tiny scratches on the bumper and I told her that I had no clue if there were there already or not. That was worth $325.

For my injuries, which didn't really pan out, I got $250.

I should get hit more often.

Made me giggle

2008-09-16T11:00:00.000-05:00

Of course I have a political slant, but I don't usually blog about it.

This is a good one, though, because I absolutely love naming new ~~kids~~ cats.

What would Sarah Palen name you? She named her own Trig, Track, Willow, Bristol, and Piper.

I would have been Warthog Mustache Palin.

Makes me glad for my mother for once.

J's would have been good, though: Chalk Reflections Palin. Heck, I almost named him that myself.

Sounds of the creek

2008-09-14T06:10:00.001-05:00

My Show N Tell is about my painting from yesterday.

Yesterday was so much fun, we were at the festival from 9:30-4:30. It was my son's initiative, as I was ready to leave at many points because of the heat.

During the morning hours, I painted with the artist group. I forgot about painting with watercolor and how quickly you can crank them out. All the others were watercolorists and all but one had several to share at the end.

I started one and became quite disillusioned with it - I hate doing closed in foliage with no air to breath - so I moved where everybody else was and caught one of the creek.

I really like the geometry of this piece. I think I have a male eye sometimes, using more lines than circles.

A fellow painter, early in the process, remarked how colorful it is. I said I like using color, but I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not. When I was near finishing, she then remarked how I should frame this one.

Paintings are funny beasts. When you catch them mid-way, you think they're a bit wonky, but then they come into themselves. They go through ugly stages. This one is a little bit larger than 5x7, so it's relatively small; I only worked on it an hour on site.

I did work on this one a bit at home, maybe 30 minutes. I ran out of time on site. I think I'm changing my rule of not touching a painting after I leave the setting. Sometimes it makes good sense.

Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Hairy

2008-09-13T16:16:00.001-05:00

If I had realized that the chosen word could be your blog name, I'd have loved to see everyone squirm with "churp." Or even better, "crap." A big "very clever" goes out to the Mrs.

I took these pictures today; what a great time we had. The first two images seem like they should be hairy and the last has two versions of hairy.

Happy Birthday

2008-09-12T18:39:00.000-05:00

to my 11 year old little man!

We ate dinner at Red Lobster and needed wheelchairs getting out.

Fondling the tail

2008-09-11T09:04:00.000-05:00

My head hurts, my feet stink, yada yada.

Yesterday afternoon, after finally getting the right sizes jeans at Old Navy for J, as I was on my way home to meet his bus, I got rear ended. It was my first accident since 1982, when a crazy woman sideswiped me.

I have this funny habit. I actually stop on a right on red. And I don't pull out if I might any way imped the oncoming traffic. I do think of right on red as my right to turn, but as my right to not be in the way of oncoming traffic. It had previously occurred to me that my by the book style of right on red would earn me a rearending.

I am very conservative in my right on reds and Mr. Kato, the driving teacher for ex and I and the whole county, would be proud. Ex and I would be forced into driving maneuvers and the skilled driver of the day would exclaim, "Mr. Kato would be proud!" I often see people and think to myself they should have had Mr. Kato. The man's been riding on my shoulder for over 30 years.

About yesterday, I am proud that the car didn't get pushed into oncoming traffic. I'd pulled up for a right on red. At this intersection, I was on a ramp, trying to get on a four lane road. Looking left, though, there's a tall chain link fence with a bunch of overgrowth; add to that, the road angles back and it's tough to see. You have to get right up to the edge of the corner to see around it all. The woman behind me didn't see me stop. Maybe she didn't know it's a tricky corner.

She was very polite. It was a relatively pleasant transaction. She let me use her phone, as I'd walked out without mine. J has a key to get in, but he didn't answer. Bugger.

My bumper does not appear damaged, but I'll find out next week for sure.

I'm mostly concerned, but not really, about my head, which hit the headrest twice. I had a headache immediately and it's migrated to the front as well. No damage to bumper, no air bags deployed, but she hit me very hard. The change holder released its contents and a mini-glove box I didn't know I had flew open. That was all around my left knee, which hurts, too.

Hopefully this will all go away in the next few days and I literally won't have to bother my pretty little head about it anymore.

Through this, I learned that I only have $2000 in medical coverage. In this case, anything could be filed with the other insurance. However, if I'd hit a tree in a single car accident, there'd only be $2000 for treatment (I don't think that'd even be per occupant?), yet the range available is only $500-25000. Just how much medical coverage is that anyway? I guess the assumption defaults to using a personal health insurance policy? I'm going to inquire about the cost to increase it. I'm thinking of it as just essentially covering copays.

Insurance is so confusing.

Calling it quits

2008-09-09T19:36:00.000-05:00

I've lost ground I don't think I want to make up. I've posted almost daily since October1, 2007. I cannot keep up the daily grind. I did fairly well until mid-summer, then a fun life got in the way.

I'm not a quitter, so I hate quitting, but I officially cannot keep it up.

I think I got a lot out of posting daily. It made me seek variety and look more deeply at the mundane. It's been a good record, although I found myself not saying all that I wanted to, because it was ongoing, but then I'd never get back to the summary.

If I left anything hanging, let me know.

Otherwise...Case closed.

PS - I am posting because I feel compelled to post, of course. I got a good start to September. Go figure. It's in my blood, but it'll work its way out.

Taking a stand

2008-09-08T08:16:00.001-05:00

After idling away the day Saturday, a spitefully stormy weekend installment if I ever experienced one, I went out painting yesterday and came back with this...
Of course, it looks almost nothing like this, but it is the best I can manage in the photography department. When it gets less tacky, I go outside and get a better one in the sun, I hope. The masses of yellow flowers are more brilliant and the left/right balance in the sky color is more even.

With this painting, I finally realized that I have a thing about a stand of trees. Perhaps you've noticed. I painted some in pastel, but in the last two months, I have painted at least five more in oil.

I think I like them as a lonely front against the long tree line.

It's kinda hard to paint, to differentiate the front ones from the mass in the rear. Usually, you really can't see a big difference in color or value between the two sets. For this, I painted in the rest of the canvas, but used the palette knife on the front trees. It gives them a lovely, streaky gloppy feel with serious weight.

I used to be really good at leaving a plein air piece straight plein air. A purist. What happens outside, stays outside. In the last month, though, I've become a tweaker, a meth head artist who can't leave well enough alone. I don't know if I'm doing more harm than good, but I really hate it. Thing is, to go back and sign an oil, I have to get all the supplies out and one thing leads to another.

Today, I will be handcuffing myself not to fiddle with this one. I hope.

Day at the Museum

2008-09-07T08:02:00.001-05:00

Today's Show N Tell is for the propagating of culture.

It was a fun day at the museum. At the medieval helmet display, I wanted it to look like there was a helmet on my head. Kinda missed the mark, but funny anyway. And classy.

I saw two paintings that I loved, the first and the last. I believe the pictures weren't flash, so don't get upset about the images.

These folds are to die for. It's basically only two colors. Up close, they look like blobs, but within a few feet, voila!

The bread was absolutely unreal. I wonder why they didn't call artists witches, because they sure can weave some magic.

This guy was one of the first plein air artists and this dates back to around 1840. The Impressionists were a generation after that.

This was my very favorite. The drama in the sky is so ballsy and the light patch on the ground is, well, magical.

Saturday Scavenger Hunt: One

2008-09-06T08:00:00.000-05:00

Today's word is one, but I decided not to be a smart ass and just post one picture.The one tree in my front yard had to go. This one is a cool memorial.

My one offspring is a BobbleHead!

She was my one and only for so many years. Not one day goes by where I don't miss her.

I searched for just the right picture for one and no one stood out. This one actually has me stumped. Off to see others' take on it...

On the road

2008-09-04T08:17:00.002-05:00

Probably because I had a false start at the framer's, when the door was still locked and the phone was busy repeatedly, I had a lot of success yesterday.

Initially deciding to investigate other framers in this tiny, scenic town, I got referred to an artist's coop, but the woman manning the shop yesterday did stained glass, so could not help with framing. She referred me to another co-op and I am so glad she did. I found a watercolorist there manning the desk and she specializes in plein air work. She is president of a local artist's society and they go out each month to paint together.

And I learned that the co-op has an opening in October. She called the leader/owner of the co-op and raved about my work. I'm kinda stunned.

With a co-op, the artist must take two days a month to man the desk and try to sell art. They do not take a commission (usually 40% at a regular gallery), but they do charge $120/month. The artist is also required to attend a monthly meeting in which everyone's work is rotated.

To be juried in, it costs $75 and I have to submit pictures of six works completed in the last three years. Because it isn't specific, I guess that doesn't mean that the works have to be available. With me framing three pastels, I want to use them at the place I mentioned yesterday where I'll be an affiliated artist. If I'm rejected by that place, then I'll have them available for the co-op place.

To be juried in the other place (which is primary in my intentions), it's also $75. There is only a monthly fee of $25 for bin space, however they want four pieces for the walls initially, so I'll assume there is some routine wall space deal. When something sells, they take 40%.

I told the watercolorist that $120 a month wouldn't be easy to put out for me (not that I couldn't do it), saying that it would definitely be made up with the sale of a single painting, and I asked how it worked for her. She said she definitely does NOT make it up, that photography has been what's moving lately, and she figures it is equal to selling about three paintings a year. With the contract being for a year, she looks at the broad picture.

So I'd rather be juried into the more prestigious one and pay 40% than pay a big monthly fee, but I am considering the co-op fee just so that I am represented someplace.

I know how my brain and sensibilities work. The second this feels like a business, I will shut down.

One extra perk of meeting this watercolorist: she invited me to paint outside in a rather famous festival next weekend. J is going there on Friday (his birthday) with school and the artist's organization was invited to do plein air demos the next morning. I asked J if he would mind going two days in a row, then emailed the watercolorist that I'd like to participate. (I guess if you live around here, you know where to find me.)

Then I went to the framer and he was open this time. Like the watercolorist, he highly suggested having the stuff matted, as I'd considered doing it with just spacers and frame. Pastels flake and can muss up a mat, but matting gives much better presentation. He said that if I am trying to be juried I need to have mats. Made sense. Cost: $300; he gave me a 25% discount. Be ready next week.

He's very experienced with pastels and I feel confident in his work. I forgot to take pictures with my signature on the pieces, so today (sigh) I'm going back to take some pictures, although I have plenty of shots with no signature. I need to have them signed in my portfolio. I also figure that if I have bin space, I need something to put in it, so I need to have some prints and postcards made and things like that should be signed in the image.

I plan to start with this one:
The framer kind of caught his breath and called it pretty (like the guys looking at my painting a few weeks ago), when he didn't really have comments about the other two. Looking at it yesterday, I realized it's even prettier than its picture. I get so accustomed to seeing the digital image instead of the real one. (Maybe enlarging it would help?) But the digital will become a print and a card for some bins.

I might need your help. This all gets so complicated, but I am keeping the energy up. I am surprising myself by having both creative and business energy simultaneously. Much better that last year this time (September 3, to be specific, and I am hyper aware of it, worried it'd happen again) when I got the severe palsy in my legs, just zapping in from out of the blue, which wrecked my confidence completely and limited my social exposure. This year being a do over has taken many forms.

I want this

2008-09-03T07:46:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a momentous day, which lapped over into today.

I actually signed paintings.

I joke that I paint to a pile. I don't do stuff with my pastels b/c everything has to be professionally framed. So, if I don't have real plans for it, why sign?

Also, I've never been sure what to sign. I'd rather use my maiden name, but people know me by my married. Should I use all three names? Should I abbreviate? These are questions I've had for years.

When I was in college, I signed all those watercolors with the equivalent of Crick. When I was doing watercolors as a new mother, selling probably 75 of them, I signed with all three names.

Yesterday, I went with was was short: my first two initials and my last name.

I want to say that a trend should be carved in stone, but I'm hanging loose about it. If I change it, fine. As it is, it's not that many letters. I kind of feel like I'm rationalizing, because I still really don't know.

So, I was signing pastels and oils, the latter not being quite ripe enough yet for varnish and selling. I took three pastels to a framer recommend to me by my old pastel teacher. Of course, it was closed down. I decided to investigate an additional address I'd seen online, thinking they'd expanded, but they'd actually moved. But they were closed. So I'll go back today for more momentousness.

My push for this is my desire to be an affiliated artist for an arts center locally. I have to supply them four paintings ready for hanging, so that if I am juried in with my 18 other works done in the last two years which they see via CD, then they'll immediately put my stuff up for sale...and take 40% if it does sell.

It's a step in the right direction for me. I've always had the desire, just not the application. Now that this door has opened, I desperately want to be juried in, something I've never tried with a pastel or oil.

I want this.

This is Natural Bridge, one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World. The painting is cut off because I, um, signed it, but I am happy with the painting. I am less happy with the photograph of the painting, as it came out a little harsh, harder than it is in real life. In the painting, the rocks glow and are central.

Natural Bridge is 500 million years old. It is actually the end of a two mile tunnel that all fell except for this section. It was eroded out by the very creek that goes by the base of the current formation.

So now you know. And I am on my way out to try to become a professional.

Crystal kit

2008-09-02T08:34:00.000-05:00

When we were at the gift shop of some caverns a few weeks ago, J wanted to take on a science project.

This was our result after about a week. The larger rock stuck out of the solution a bit and the crystals proliferated after the water level fell from evaporation. It was strange that so much grew out of where there was so solution. Magic, I swear.
We let them grow undisturbed in the bathroom cabinet. I am just now realizing this space has gone unused!

Meanwhile, the water finally fell low enough for the smaller rock to grow; we turned the plastic box around for better viewing. It didn't do quite as well as the first rock, which filled in considerably, but I am surprised how well the smaller one did considering the time lapsed. Yesterday was after almost three weeks.

I'm not exactly sure what to do with this stuff now...

Skink stink

2008-09-01T14:07:00.001-05:00

For mothers, toileting is not sacred. Even almost 11 years into this gig, it seems that the bathroom is the place to meet.

(Feed readers, click for video.)

After the maniacal laugh, the next words out of his mouth were, "Hey! Get up and we'll see if it can swim!"

So we did and it wiggled even faster in the cold water as it sunk to the bottom like a, um, never mind.

Not camping

2008-08-31T00:01:00.004-05:00

I should not be home typing this. It is not a happy Mel's Show N Tell today. Just let me vent.
There was a little red and yellow tent. It was used by a mother and her son several times each year for seven summers. It didn't cost a lot, but it was well loved. This mother was quite proud that she was the one her son associated with camping, not her Eagle Scout ex-husband!

I believe we must say good-bye to our little tent.

As I mentioned, during the rain storm our white canopy collapsed, tearing in two places. Everything under it was wet, but I put some of it in the car anyway. I left the rest propped under the half that was still standing.

The campground doesn't have anyone manning the gate or opening the store on off days, so there was nobody I could tell that we were possibly leaving for a day or two. I had, however, told the store manager a few days before that, if the rain came, we would be out of there and would return. Apparently, she didn't remember this.

The campground staff was quite alarmed that our site was disheveled (they called it wind blown) and that we were gone. Actually, it wasn't disheveled. Everything was as neat as possible and doing fine in the rain, despite the canopy being torn. That was a detail that evaded them.

Thinking they were being polite, the lady who mans the gate took all of our sopping wet gear from the table, the tarps, the torn canopy, the canopy poles, etc and put them in our tent. She then took out the tent's poles. They stuck it all in the back of a truck, air mattress still inflated, and put it on the lawn near the store. She overlaid the rain fly and the tarp on the essentially flat, wet mess to make sure to seal in all the moisture as best as possible. Forgive my sarcasm about people who should really understand tents and gear better than that.

She thought she was doing us a favor, because she doesn't like the Latinos and said they'd steal everything. I was absolutely prepared for it all to be stolen and had gone there mentally already. I was not prepared for it to be a reeking, mildewing pile of crap created by the "professionals."

They seemed appalled that I had angry actions, although I seriously kept it in check. When I complained of the smell of mildew of my hands and of having severe asthma that could not tolerate the tent, the owner, who was very surprised that we were leaving and he was losing a customer (although I'd already paid for nights we were gone and the night I thought we'd be staying - I didn't even ask for a refund) kindly said that I could go to the bathroom and use the soap to wash my hands. I replied with some level of disgust that I could not wash my whole tent that way. I was kinda surprised at his lack of insight there. I told him that I had the option to drive someplace and invest another $100 into a new tent, but that was not a possibility for me. Looking back, I forgot they sell tents in their store; he could have offered me one at a seriously reduced price to make up for them ruining my gear.

So now the tent is up in the backyard, hopefully airing out. I am afraid that any cleaning measures would remove the waterproofing, something I couldn't complain about previously with this tent. It had a little leak in one corner, but the mattress and sleeping bags were dry when we left about 6 hours into the rain storm, that is, until the rest of our campsite was piled inside of it.

Before I realized the stench of the tent, I'd gone in to scope us a new lot in the campground and had put out a few things to reserve our site. When I returned to the tent and J, who'd been assigned the task of clearing out the tent while I was gone, he was sobbing, saying he didn't want to stay. I understood. It's bad enough setting up a campsite, particularly when you thought you were returning to a campsite that just needed a canopy removed, but to have to remove all the wet stuff, pack up all the gear into the car, and start all over again at another site, it was too much for him. When I then smelled the mildew, it was too much for me.

What makes me angry is that this was our Labor Day weekend and I'd planned it for a few weeks, choosing this over other options.

We made the best of it coming home, stopping off at a park and getting an historic house tour. We drove through some vineyards, because I am determined to scope out the best vineyard vistas for a painting. Finally, we stopped for dinner at 5:15 at a place that had karaoke starting at 6p. It took 2.5 hours, but I finally sang Dwight Yoakam's Guitars and Cadillacs, mostly because every song before then had been Country; I luckily wound up choosing a crowd favorite, which helped, as I am perhaps the worst singer in the world. It was a lot of fun and my frustration took a hike, until I got home and had to unpack a heap of mildew.

Any suggestions on cleaning a taffeta tent? After just two days stewing, it doesn't have mildew stains. I'm thinking my tent might make it after all...with some elbow grease which was not in my cards for this weekend. Blah.

Saturday Scavenger Hunt: Blue

2008-08-30T09:25:00.001-05:00

Today's word is blue, a very fitting choice.

I often wear blue. Nice that it often brings compliments, too.
A blue background makes pictures all the more beautiful.

I'd felt so blue with J gone at camp and soon to leave for his grandparents. I snuck in two pictures after he'd grabbed my hand as we walked a high meadow.

Okay, time to get back to the blue great beyond. No more rain!

Fuck that noise

2008-08-29T17:18:00.000-05:00

Well, we camped for two nights and went tubing. Then the rains came and we went to the movie and out to dinner a couple dozen miles away.

My mind crept to the warmth of a real shower and the crispness of clean sheets, so we stayed in a hotel last night. We went to a few museums today and decided to come home for the night. It's supposed to be clear and mid 80s tomorrow, so we'll drive back in the morning.

In the mean time, our campsite is a disaster. My 10x10' canopy didn't stand up the rain, so two side poles broke through the tarp on top, leaving everything underneath a sopping mess. I put all I could dry in the car and left the rest under the corner that was still dry. The tent is still up, to its credit and the tarp I'd secured on top, it and the sleeping bags were largely dry.

Tomorrow, we'll find out what happened to it all after two nights unattended. When we left we were the only tent campers there.

At the very least, our wet junk holding our primo spot for this holiday weekend.

Hope you all enjoy your Labor Day!