Saturday, December 23, 2006

Home

He has been home 4 days. It seems longer. The last week was like waiting for a baby to be born. There's a due date, but it's an estimate. We got word from him and others where he was and what route he might come and when he might show up, but nothing was 100% for sure.

When he called in the morning and said he was in his house, I made a lot of noise when I got off the phone. Woo hoo and yippee and thank You, Lord type noise.

His wife had to work, so we hung out. The dogs played together. He looks good, lean and strong and healthy. He says it feels weird, probably like you felt when we moved back from West Africa, Mom. From poverty all around you into the lap of luxury in the USA.

Yes, yes, the relief is settling in and it feels really, really good.

We talked about the war. My observation is that no matter how it looks now and how hopeless it seems, we do not know what tomorrow holds. We cannot see the future and things quite outside our imagination can happen that would change things. I do not expect this necessarily, but I have learned this from my own little life. It adds a higher perspective to all the political arguments I listen to all the time. Not to be fatalistic. Make good decisions that will strengthen my family and my country and the world, but do what I can, and leave what's out of my control right where it is: out of my control.

Monday, December 11, 2006

The Extrovert that was Always There

Being in Seattle I cannot scan paintings. But I am studying the painting called, let's see... Don't know. The next step is to darken the porch shadow, but I cannot find the photo, so I don't want to do that until I get home. Other things I want to adjust:
remove purple shadow of wire on left
remove part of siding detail, as much as possible
bring more pigment into the left yellow to match the center yellow?
put blue, or something else, back into the sky by the roof, where I lightened it
leave a few bits of orange or red in the porch shadow when you darken it

My dear son-in-law said you should have a theme, like hang some buoys on the porch.
I said, I see what you mean, but this is more about design than describing this house in Maine.

Buoys would give information: this is a coastal house, could be Maine, here's a hint of what goes on around here.
But what I like about this work is the brilliant sun on the face of the building and how the colors work with each other.

What made me think of extroversion was the sky, I really laid in the pigment on the first wash, no shyness there. I remember my woodcut teacher and how he noted that I wasn't afraid to just put my knife into the wood. No perfectionism there. No drawing minute details and having them all in before you start. I think I have a hint of what David Dewey means when he talks about drawing and painting. You draw in your basic shapes, lay in your foundational washes, and as you proceed with your painting, you stop and draw certain parts. Not everything has to be accurate, but he says: every so often you have to draw really well.

I still love this picture.

We went to a small gallery here. I looked at some of the not very good paintings and saw the prices and wondered if they could sell. Who would want them? I thought, if they can get $400 for that painting, I'm in good shape to get paid for mine.
But different people have different tastes. Some will like those paintings and won't like mine.

So I think about how working for the public for 2 years uncovered yet more of the extrovert, plus being older, plus mellowing out with antidepressants and possibly more than any of it, working with my coach, building my confidence, seeing what the Lord has put in me. What does that have to do with art? It's just that I think I see a pattern. I have always liked to just get in there and put the thing down on the page, use the 6B pencil and make the shadows deep and dramatic. I hate H pencils; they are like trying to draw with a fork.

And at class this summer, when Christie told the guy near me to look at my painting, it was because I was not shy about making my darks really dark and showing the contrast with the bright kyaks, which were in the sun. The same thing when I took pottery... I loved wrestling with the clay, leaning into it, forcing that lumpy blob into a smooth sphere.

I was pretty shy in those days, until I got to know people.

Even then the part of me that was willing to put myself out there existd. I wasn't aware of it.

Just a thought. It's interesting to me how we grow.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Back In the Great Northwest

I am visiting my daughter and son-in-law. While they are at work I paint.
Strangest thing: the paintings named Kathy's house 2 and 3 are not her house at all. My son-in-law said that's my mom's house, but moments later he said but my mom's house doesn't have a peaked roof. I said yes it does; it's in the photo I took. We looked at the other photo of her whole house and there is no peak. It was such a close-up and so abstracted that I didn't notice it's a different house! First he was freaked out....like he would know his own house he grew up in....then I was freaked out.....whose house is this then? All this time I thought I was painting Kathy's house. They have a similar look. Is this an artist thing: so caught up in the designs and colors and shapes that I did not know which house it was?

He looked at my paintings and said you should sell these things. My daughter said, she is. (Mental note, he said I should sell these things...that is good!)

So on the plane I did a drawing for Kathy's house 4. I guess I can call it Kathy's house 2 and rename the other 2 Mystery house 1 and 2, oh dear.

Last night at the dinner table SIL was telling funny stories about cats. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. You have to have a Far Side sense of humor to laugh at his stories; they were not nice stories for a cat to listen to. We all traded stories. So fun to be with them. So fun to be with my family and sit at the table after we eat and talk. No jump up and turn on the TV. Great stories. He has had a life full of adventure and since they have been married (7 years) they have had many new escapades together.

They analyzed what this dear young father, Mr. Kim, might have done right or wrong to avoid dying lost in the snow. They found him today. Even the news people seem close to tears. I appreciate this. I like them to not be so ultra professional that they just report story, change to a cheery voice and go on to the next story. If I were reporting death, I think I would lower my tone, slow way down, and leave lots of space for contemplation.....then get fired.

I feel it when the traffic reports are about a terrible crash and there is a medivac landing. It's all about how far it is backed up and what alternate route to take for your commute. But my mind always goes to the people in the wrecked cars. Someone is hurting really badly, maybe several people, maybe someone is dying....and the announcer's voice is high and fast and has no sadness in it at all. Would I ask the listeners to pray with me for those involved? Now there's a concept. Many listeners would indeed pray and prayer united in appeal for those injured would make a difference. I don't expect to ever see it happen. I lost my husband suddenly. There were sirens involved. Even today when an ambulance screams by, it can take me right back to that moment. So my heart goes out to people in trauma.

Now my SIL also told me of how he fell into a tree well. I had to ask what a tree well was. Snow piles up around the tree but the snow from the branches sloughs off to the sides, but there is a deep hole under the tree. He fell backwards into one and was stuck, sprawled out and up-side-down. He described how he inched his poles out of the snow so that he could manipulate them, and put them under himself so that he could right himself and then stomped around in a circle, packing a path to spiral up out of the well. Fascinating.

We talked about how my injured and arthritic knee means no more skiing for me. I am not a skiier but it has been fun to be out there with family, laughing and learning. Last time I actually succeeded in controlling myself. We can try snow-shoing though, and go tubing or sledding.

There are many distractions here, including Terrell S. Lester's beautiful book on the coffee table, Maine, with 4 award winning authors' Maine stories added in. I read the whole thing. I wish we could buy a place together there. I think of spending a year there to experience the long, hard winter and survive. To paint and write. Some of his photos look just like a watercolor. There is one I want to paint and hang in my house. I could never sell it, because it's his photo. He started at age 32 and taught himself. Anyway, that is a good distraction, quite related to what I'm doing.

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Kathy's house 2

Still learning how hello, picasa and bloggerbot work. Tried to post the first washes of this painting, but didn't click enough times I guess. At any rate, here is the more abstracted version of Kathy's house. The photo I took made it easy.

Things to adjust: roof color & shadow color.
Definitely want to paint this again and try:
1. large size version
2. realistic colors
3. corrected drawing; I made a major drawing error.
4. add some more red?

I loved this immediately. It has what I love about many of David's Maine paintings, the brilliant sun on buildings.

Doing the color work that has been done so far made difference between this painting and the first one of Kathy's house because of the fact that I did TRY to make the colors balance. Though I am not yet satisfied, the initial color group works a lot better than the first painting. I'm anxious to get back to it and see what it takes to finish it and then do another version.

When I scanned it in black and white, I was surprised that the bright yellow looks the same value as the shadows. Hmmmm.Posted by Picasa

Monday, November 13, 2006

Being New

People are friendly here and I can tell I'm back in the South. It is nice to have polite people in stores. No one seems in a hurry or stressed out. In the art center people make eye contact and say hello, even if they are just walking past you. I could get used to this. Sales clerks are nice and there are hardly any lines to stand in.

It takes time to make new friends, especially when you get poison ivy on your face and skip church. But the artists I have talked to have all been nice. Seems to be a lot of built-in comeradery. Nice. I don't know what I expected. People all on drugs and into weird stuff?

Artists I've met seem to assume we are all poor and are generous with hints of where to find deals on supplies and services.

All you see are strip malls, gas stations, grocers, apartments, condos, wide streets and lots of parking space. Where is everyone? Surely it gets busy in the summer.

At one church I tapped someone's shoulder and introduced myself on the way out. I'm new. Most churches ideally want to notice and welcome strangers, but many have trouble with this. We are happy to see our friends and get into conversations with them immediately and do not notice the new-comer.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Platform with Crane

So the place was begging to be painted. I don't know yet what it is, but there were great shapes and colors.

This is what I learned:

--bad dogs must be blinded from viewing other dogs who are merely walking by with their humans, unless you want claw marks on your legs and large amounts of sand in your paints.

--choose your colors ahead of time so as not to go looking for them in the middle of your painting

--too many lines on the crane, too thick , too dark

--don't try to paint every wave you see when a painting can only represent one instant in time.

--you needed your Viridian green

--the lavendar wet sand reflection is there, but not for very long, and it is worth recording

--bring lunch and coffee

--you don't need your camera every time...less is more

--buy a small butcher's tray pallet

--pack up the day before

--it can be warm on the beach in November

--parking is free and dogs are allowed during off season

--it's a couple miles farther by the Southern route

--surfers face the sea and get psyched before they surf

--there are lots of trash cans so I don't have to go far to discard the dog's poop bag. LOL

--the shadow of the rail cars are not clean enough

--the platform and pilons need to be unified

--the pilons need to be more rusty orange and varied

--I could use a tie out stake

That's all I can think of and I'm too tired to think any more. Posted by Picasa

Friday, November 03, 2006

The Plague

Time before last my skilled coach asked me what is this other mind set that plagues you? He referred to the idea I have firmly ensconced in my head that I will be successful IF I make a living painting and writing and can support myself all the way through old age, not being a burden on my children but leaving them a comfy inheritance. Where do I get this? From my Dad and Mom for sure.

Now then I am in a totally new place that my childhood values did not prepare me for. I grew up with this: the Dad makes a living and pays for the wife and children. The mom stays home and cooks and cleans and cares for the kids. The kids go to school and learn and come home and play and do chores. The girls will grow up and marry and keep house like their mommy. The guy will marry someone and provide money and security for her.

These things did not all come true. The guy only married once and for less than a year. No permanent relationship has come for him. The girls married, some divorced and remarried and as for me, I lost my husband through death.

What is that Helen Keller quote? security is mostly a superstition. Life is either a great adventure or nothing....

But he has a different outlook on success and I am glad to let him try to improve my thinking about success.

Are you successful only if you get money?

Or are you successful if you take the gifts God gave you and use them and share them with your family and then with the world?

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

I will remember



View from my former bedroom window.
Name: Old Gnarly

Reconnected

Little by little things are getting set up. I almost have money to spend. The bank says come in again and prove I am me. Then I can write my first check.

The sky here is cleaner than in DC. I don't know if being near the sea makes a difference. I should think it wuould feel more humid all the time, but so far I have not noticed that. Just the incredible strength of the sky, especiallly in late afternoon and evening.

Hmmm, there is my neighbor throwing something. He really should have a shirt on if he has any self respect. Ew. Throwing rocks at a pesky muskrat or fox? No, looks more like bread to geese in the way he's tossing, not pelting.

It will be warm again today and we really must get to the beach to paint.

It was lovely to have my 2 daughters come see me over the weekend. I put out the pumpkins we carved but no one came trick or treating. I'm glad, because all I had was fireballs. I don't know how many kids would want fireballs! They'd probably say what are these? Halloween is a holiday I could do without.

So I wondered, did they come to see me or the dog? Yes, the dog, but still, I think they would have come to see me even if there were no dog. I think.

Hugs, laughter, relaxation, trying to eat our sandwiches on the beach without eating sand. Windy. They still like each other and they told me their throats were sore from screaming all the way down. Can't make it 2 weeks without their mom, they said. Well, I love them too and I'm glad they came and yes, it was hard to say good-bye again, but as daughter the third said: It will get easier each time, right? Yes, it will.

We visited their brother's church again. We ate lunch with his sweet wife and the grandpuppy and the girls got to see the house now that it's finished. And a lovely house it is.

There goes a school bus and Mr. Michelin tire man is STILL feeding the birds. He must have quite a supply of bread or maybe he went to the Farmers Market and has a bucket of Indian corn. OK, my curiosity got the best of me. From the bedroom window I confirmed that it's geese he is feeding. I bet they come every day. Now then, those geese. I'm glad they are here because I miss seeing the ones at the lake a lot. You feel acquainted after 11 years.

And the little birds in the tree outside my window. It is warm enough to leave the window open. I like to sleep in pitch dark, but if there is the option to hear the night sounds, that wins over darkness.

This place is far more luxurious than any place I've ever lived. I would never go looking for a place like this. But now that I'm here, I am simply blown away by the presence of LIGHT in this place. Full sunlight indoors, like being outside as much as you please! An artist's haven.

Yes, I think my son has a good point, if you are going to make a home improvement, you may as well do it now while you yourself can enjoy it. So I'm thinking hardwood floors, get rid of the carpet. The carpet is nice for lying on the floor with pillows and dogs and falling asleep in front of the TV, but that is not why I'm here. Hardwood floors would mean, no worry about spilling paint on beige carpet, and dust mop easy clean. Yes, it would add significant value to the place when we sell too.

Anyway, I am glad I'm doing color charts even though no one is going to pay me for them. I am learning about my paints. Transparent. Opaque. Intense. Chromatic. Saturated. Unsaturated. Why didn't they teach me anything about color in my so called great art school? These are basics, for Pete's sake.

I shall visit a new church this week and I shall try to go to the Thursday evening group at Cathryn's. Curious.

It feels great to finally have email again and be able to communicate with my loved ones. We get so used to the way things are. I felt so detached with no email and even no phone for the first week. I am anxious to catch up with friends.

My sister sounds much better and that is like a drink of cold water on a hot day.

I told my other sister I moved. Have not told my brother yet.

Oh, yes, I wanted to scan my latest work of Kathy's house and publish it. Now I understand why I don't like the colors in some of my paintings. I had NO REGARD WHATSOEVER for which colors looked harmonious with other colors. I want to paint the house over, once in values only, then choose specific yellows and purples and blues from the color wheel and see, yes, that's much better. Her painting is definitely overworked now. Seems I've been doing a lot of that lately.

On one of my color wheels I made a mistake and made 16 slices of pie instead of 12, so that when I went around about 2/3 of the way, I realized I didnt have enough colors. Oh brother. I should do that one over. There are pigments in David's book that I do not own and since they are not on his Maine Masterclass list, I don't want to go buy them just to make a color wheel. I probably will in time, use lots of different colors. I wonder if he chooses those colors because it's Maine in summer and whether his classes during the year require different colors.

So far, it is working somewhat. I have been able to spend hours every day painting. I started keeping track by making squares and setting a timer, but that means getting up every hour and resetting the timer and I got lost in my work and forgot at times. Did I paint 8 hours yesterday? Probably more like 6. And I wrote, which counts. I need to make my SMART goals and send them to Ron. Oh dear, my excuse was I had no email, but that is not an excuse not to do it. I did type up my notes and highlight things which needed attention.

Moving is like dumping out all the puzzle pieces and starting over putting them back together. The more careful you are when you "undo" the puzzle, the easier it is to put it back together.

Friday, October 27, 2006

Where's the Stress?

The week following pack-the-POD-day went fast. Different friends came each day to help me and I had time to say good-bye.

Daughter The Last and her boyfriend helped me get the rest of the stuff into the POD. It was dark and it was raining. Oh brother, what a mess. She got really tired and just started shoving things in. I didn't care; I was so grateful for her help. When we finished my knee was really, really paining me. I thought it was about midnight but the clock said almost 2am!! No wonder she was so tired.

The last week was not stressful, but the last day was chaos. The final walk through at 10 am: still a lot of boxes, cardboard, papers and bags all over the basement floor. The buyers had their list of things I was selling and looked at each one and bargained hard to reduce the price. I did not fight very hard. It did not seem worth it in light of the big fat check I was going to be walking away with. They wanted me to clean the oven and I said I can't. Can't you hire someone to do it? No, I'm sorry, I can't. The contract said "as is". I am going to sweep the whole house, as the contract says. I wish I could scour everything from top to bottom but I cannot. She reads to me from the contract:"free from debris". I say that means all this paper and trash. The realtor tried to claim that when they looked at the house before the oven was clean. I said no it wasn't. It has been like that a long time. Guilt trip bubbling beneath the surface for leaving a dirty oven but they relaxed when I said it's a self-cleaning oven.

They tried every window and every faucet and I thought didn't you check these things out before you wrote a contract "as is"?

They are nice people. But I was not sure if they were playing up their refugee status for all it was worth, working on my sympathy, or whether they were totally sincere. Every time I agreed to his low price offer he thanked me over and over. He told me how they came over after the Viet Nam war and how it hard it was, etc. Priming me for the next bargaining session? I don't know. When I found out later that she is a realtor herself and he a lawyer, I have to wonder. They know all the ploys of bargaining.

He tried to hurry her up. I said you can have the brand new stove if you will quit bothering me about not cleaning the oven. The realtor said she's taking it personally. No, I said. I simply cannot clean it today.

She said we'll have to do another walk through at 3:30.

I finally broke down (figuring I needed every second the rest of the day to clear out). I said if you'll let me leave everything on the list here in the house, you can have it all for free; I will just get all the trash out. They were thrilled.

One more thing I needed to do: go to work and say goodbye and turn in my card. So Patsy dropped my daughter and I off and we ate there while she ran to Costco. I said quick goodbyes. The store manager did not know I was leaving. H.R. took my picture for the Wall of Fame, co-worker of the month, which was 6 months ago. Limped as fast as I could down to my boss, sat down, "I have 30 seconds to say good-bye to you." He looked kind of shocked... thirty seconds? I said I always wanted another son. I said how is it going? Different day, same ---- he said. I did not tell him he really needs to clean up his language. I wish I could have been working these past few weeks but I could barely walk. We stood up and I hugged him with best wishes in his upcoming marriage. And I zipped out.

Met Child the Third at the exit and Patsy picked us up and we tore into the house. Stuffed everything into my car, dragged things to the street. Swept. They came at 3:15 "you can't come in yet, I'm still sweeping." They pulled lots of things out from the junk on the street "for the renters".

After the walk through, I locked the door and followed Joanne to the Title Company. Princess was in a little pocket of space in the front seat. It was cool, comfortable for her in the car.

Closing went very smoothly ... Joanne and I chatted and ate chocolates out of the big jar in the middle of the huge, glossy table. I had a view of my car from the window, so that if anyone tried to get into my car..... well, Joanne assured me no one would try anything with Princess in there.

Done.

At the girls' apartment and had my diet-to-go meal with me and we ate together. It was quiet. I mean their TV was on but there was no easy conversation or jokes.

When we went out to the car, they said good-bye to the dog first and then we hugged each other. Child the Third was crying a little and I was surprised at the strength of Daughter the Last's hug. She wouldn't let go. I felt awful. I did not expect that. I figured she'd be thinking: Yea! Mom's gone. We can do whatever we want!

I was sprinkling a little and getting dark. The whole drive down I kept thinking what have I done? What have I done? What have I done? It's final. Am I crazy?

It was 11:15 pm but I took 2 hours to unpack the car, because if I didn't, the POD would trap the car in the garage for 5 days. When it was empty I parked down by the pool.

So apparently the stress was all compressed into the last day. Every other time I've moved was hugely stressful for weeks prior. This time I only had one day of it. That's much better. If I had it to do over, I'd make my goal 3 days before closing and I'd move completely out and stay with friends the last few nights, as several of them offered.

Oh, well, next time.

Saturday, September 30, 2006

The House is Echoing

The POD arrived yesterday--the way it came off the truck was a fascinating bit of engineering. I won't even try to describe it, but if I have my wits about me I'll take some pictures when they pick it up.

There were about 10 of us, with Alec as foreman. Thank you, Katie, for sharing your DH, especially on a Saturday. He did an excellent job putting things in efficiently and tying them up as we went. I was mostly indoors limping around answering questions about which things went, which things stayed, and where the tape dispenser was. Patricia brought her big flask of coffee and some doughnuts. My house is dirty, but I have given up my perfectionism, now haven't I?

A neighbor came by who said she knows about the people that bought my house and she looked very sour-faced. These people have been buying houses in the neighborhood and renting them out. Well, if I had my druthers, the house would go to a family, but my realtor says "their money is green."

I think of how I wont be able to walk in my neighborhood any more and see people who have become part of my life (and their dogs). Last night Buddy and his human came by right when I was taking Princess into the house and I had to quickly put my bags down and make sure she didn't make me hurt my knee again. Buddy is a barker and though his human and I try to have conversations, we never can. There's another person I won't see walking by any more.

I didn't carry much, just limped around, up and down the stairs without bending my knee. I am anxious to find out what the MRI reveals. If I do need surgery, the sooner the better.

When everything was packed that could be packed, we pulled the plastic table into the living room and ate our Boston Market meal.

It is good to have friends. Each day last week someone came and helped me pack, and today, these came and helped put the things into the POD. If I were not half lame, I would have tried to do it all myself.

This is a big relief to have it all packed in. Now to clear out the rest, room by room and clean up the place for the new owners.

The off and on sprinkling didn't interfere with being the work. The grass is long, looks really lush, it's hiding all the weeds! The colors are starting to show up in some of the trees and the acorns are making noises on the roof, but I shall not be raking leaves this year at the condo.

Another neighbor walked through to 'get ideas for her house' which is just like mine. She asked if I were taking all my furniture and I said no, so she told me a couple things she'd like if I didn't take them.

I like my Parish group and I will miss these young people and P and P who have been good friends all this time. This is the first time I've moved somewhere all alone. Even when I went off to college, I roomed with my best friend and 3 girls from our High School were in the next rooms. I'm excited about it all, but it just seems strange.

Monday, September 18, 2006

David Critiquing



Mostly finished painting of David critiquing our art.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

A Unique Day

I don't like to call out at work, but I went the the doctor and requested a note saying I must rest, since I stand up all day when I work. I sat on my bed with ice under my knee and ibuprofen in my bloodstream. OK, it seems to help a little. But I cannot bear to leave my people in the lurch on Saturday when everyone and their uncle shows up at the store. So I decide I'll go work. It's not too bad the first few hours but I trip ever so slightly on the entry mat and turn my knee again. Ow. As the night wears on it hurts more and more to walk. I do my closing duties and cannot wait to get home and OFF my knee. Same thing happens in the nursery in church. The tiniest wrinkle in the play rug catches my sandle and there goes my knee again. So I guess stay off means stay off.

One problem: I have a ticket to contest downtown and you are only allowed to reschedule your hearing outside of 5 business days and it's past that deadline. I call for directions and they say 'Oh it's right across the street from the Metro stop.' Yes, it is, but my address number is one numeral off from the one I see on the building, so I think: Maybe it is the one "next door" and I walk down a half city block, go in and find out that the entrance I need is BEHIND the one I just saw across from the Metro, so I ask for directions, the shortest way, please.

My knee hurts very badly. I am thinking I should have just paid it. It's not worth $50.00. This is not worth it.

Meanwhile, it's a Federal Building, you see, so they have taken the blades out of my utility knife which I am embarrassed to discover is in my tote bag. I use it at work and had forgotten in was in the tote. The nice man has his back to me and is fiddling and fussing. What is taking him so long? About 10 minutes go by and apparently he has a problem. I start saying Just keep the knife, I don't need it. Finally I say I need to go to my hearing now and he comes to me with my knife in pieces. Apparently he didn't know how to remove the blade so he unscrewed it and cannot figure out how to put it back together.

The other nice security man told me how to get to the other building going through the hall in the basement. So I go downstairs and proceed down the hall and get about halfway, limping more and more.

Suddenly there is an obstacle. I ask a nice woman how to proceed and she said you can't go through right now because of construction. Are you SURE there is no way through?! She is sure.

So I head back, Ow, Ow, Ow, now I have discovered that it helps to lean against the wall with my hand, taking some of the weight off my right knee.

I see a room number that matches the one on my paper so I think, Oh here it is and I go in. But I'm wrong. I have confused the street address with this room number. I finally make it to my room. One or two nice gentlemen and a lady have offered to help. Do you have wheelchairs? No, they say.

I sit for maybe 45 minutes and I'm called for my hearing. Of all days to forget my ibuprofen!

I am called several doors down in the other wing. She says take your time, whenever you get there....

Basically it is a problem of giving me 2 tickets for one speeding infraction. The photo is exactly the same and so are the cars in the photo passing me on the other side of the raod. So if these tickets are both accurate, it means I got off the beltway and drove around the block and went by the same camera 10 minutes later and at that exact moment, the two vehicles passed by going the other direction at the exact spot...not likely...

Only the times and speeds are written differently. So I suggest that...I don't know how these things work, but perhaps the person recording it decided he or she made a mistake and wanted to do the ticket over, but failed to delete the first record....I don't know.

She said I'm going to cancel BOTH tickets and refund you the money you already paid for the first one. My mouth drops, Thank you! (MAYBE it was worth coming down here, but I don't know .... to avoid all that pain MIGHT have been worth $150 plus Metro fare, Metro parking and hours of my day.)

I ask for the shortest way back to the Metro and wonder out loud if they sell advil at those little kiosks. She says she has Motrin and she shares two with me. "Bless you!"

Between the exit and the Metro there is a kiosk and I decide to eat a hot dog and chips for lunch. I'm expecting high prices but it's cheap. I guess it's because it's not tourist season. I sit on the stone wall and eat.

I'm thinking of how people do it who are chronically ill. I think refugees being forced to walk long distances, hungry and cold, no bathrooms available. I think of soldiers who must keep marching no matter how badly they are injured. I think I'm not very strong. When I'm sick or injured, these thoughts always come to me. I feel guilty for feeling my pain sometimes. Right now I think that's silly.

[[Once when I had minor surgery I was a young Christian and prayed that I might have more pain so that someone else might have less pain. Now that was downright goofball thinking. But interestingly enough, the anesthesia had not reached part of the area they were working on and I could feel it! Please don't make too much of this theologically.]]

But I have an awareness that God is with me and that He is looking at my life from a higher pinnacle on the mountain range. I am trekking up and down and get a glimpse of a panorama now and then and it takes my breath away. But He can see the whole thing all the time. I am aware that He is aware of me and I am amazed at Him again.

As I leave the parking lot I think I'm in good shape because I have not one but two smart trip passes to pay and get out. But alas, neither has enough money to open the gate so I have to repark, WALK back into the station, put more money on my card and WALK back out to my car. Ow, the pain with every step.

Finally I get out and driving home I just have a sense that this day is significant though I don't see why. I'm wondering if my coach's baby is being born, that would be hugely significant.

I get my ice pack and get on my bed. After 20 minutes of napping, I get my coffee and my paints.

The doorbell.
Uh, oh, I'll bet it's potential buyers. To save steps I open the window and talk to them. Yes it's a realtor with a couple. The wife is saying "I told her I wanted to see the candle house again! The candle house." I guess they've already been here and it must have been the day I knew I'd only be gone a few minutes so I left all the candles burning. I say do you want me to light them for you?

I get the dog leashed and turn on all the lights on my way to the back yard where I sit on my weathered bench and look at my trees. "MY" trees, right. I am grieving giving all this up. It's so beautiful. Why am I doing this again? OH, yes, I need the money and the house takes too much effort and expense...time... I need to spend time painting.

They are on the back porch now; I try not to listen. The realtor comes out and says I'm going to talk them into writing a contract. Well, that sounds great, but I don't let myself get too hopeful because they might change their mind at the next house. They ask a few questions about the roof and the new gutter and the property line. They love the color, not all white like all the others.

So the next day I had a contract and the following day they had my signature on it. And now that I have news from my life coach, I find it interesting that his baby boy was indeed coming into the world that very day!

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

nearing completion





I tried to get these scans of my painting to come up side by side. At least they are in the same plane this time.
The project is put aside while I finish a book for my friend Faye. I like my painting of Bill Cosby, even though I cannot quite get the expression on his lips.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

Working from a photograph


There is so much in the way of subject matter to paint up there in Maine. On the day at John's, several classmates painted a ship that was being worked on near John's. I wanted to paint it too, but I wanted to paint water that day, so I took lots of pictures intending to paint the ship when I returned home.
Once I had the photos, I chose the one to work from that had the most interesting composition.
The thing I've noticed is that the contrast is very strong in my photos. The dark buildings are all one value and I keep having to hold the photo up to the light to see the details within the dark shapes. I know this would look totally different if I were sitting right there. This is both an advantage and a disadvantage. You want to be able to see the lights and darks, which is harder to do in person. But you also want to be able to see subltle colors inside the shapes to use in your color balancing act.
Oh my, I have so much to learn.
I spoke with a friend a church who told me she is taking a photography class and she said you can control that and she kindly sent me a copy of notes about aperture settings and I need to learn how to use my manual setting on my camera and get photos that bring up the colors in the shadows.
It is a perfect fall day and the hawks are announcing that school has started. Some one is showing the house this afternoon.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Tuumble might be interested



I have been painting a picture of the ship at John's for about 2 weeks. See two halves above and good luck connecting them with your eye. It's too big to scan. The copy above is from a few days ago.

I've decided it may help to write about trying to make it work. Within the first couple days I wanted to quit. I didn't like it. But David said finish the painting. So I stayed on the project.
It is two ramshackled buildings on the Maine coast with a ship in the background between them.

I saw improvement when I painted in the dark behind the fence which links the two buildings. That gave me the architectural footprint I meant to start out with but
got distracted from.
The fence became a challenge which I did not draw correctly and had to go back and erase and repaint parts. Then there was the window with the odd post in front of it.
The ship looked nice in the background but I didn't like the surface of the two buildings.
I wanted color and shape balance, but all I could see was a lot of gobbledy gook and tons of fussy details. Fussy is not one of my values in painting though lots of average people love fussy details in watercolor and would pay for it.
Once I had a significant amount of fuss in the painting, I decided I could not hurt it by finishing it with more fuss.
Now it is almost done and it's too big to scan. Actually I can scan about half of it at a time and I did at a certain point.
I would have liked it better had I stopped and not put in more lines and wires going to and from the ship.
Soluntiions:
The red building looked awful. It had a dark green accent on it which made it great fodder for a painting, but the paint job I had done looked sloppy and flat and boring. I added dark shadow under the eaves. I kept looking at the photo. Finally I decided to try putting in the details of the boards that made up the side of the building. What have I got to lose. So I mixed up more red brick colored paint and took a flat brush and made strokes leaving a tiny lighter space between strokes. When that was dry I put some dark marks where the boards met the corner of the building. Then I did the same with the wider boards of the open door. It is looking more realistic all the time. If I cannot finish it in suggestive shapes and balanced color, I may as well finish it in fussy detail. At least it will get finished.
My pallet looks a mess and my paints keeps trying to dry up on me because I keep jumping up to do this and that (eat lunch, let the dog out, let the dog in, make coffee, answer the phone, go to the bathroom).
There is dog hair everywhere including in my paints. She lies at the end of the bed and often takes my spot when I get up to do an errand. She wants to know why we haven't been out for a walk for a week. I tell her I'm sorry but I hurt my knee and doctor says rest.
There are places where the edges are crisp and the detail is correct. And there are places where I had to much paint on my brush and the lines are wobbley. There are place where I erased by lifting pigment with water and paper towel.
I have a post card sized version of this scene and I like it a lot, but I have not been looking at it for several days. Yesterday I found my online copy of it and doctored it up -- experimenting with lines, paintbrushes, erasers and airbrush. I saw some interesting effects and tried to save it but it did not save.
I want to get out books and look at landscapes and find what I could do to my painting that would redeem it.
I darkened the fence with cerullian and Verditer blues to tone it down. It was too white for a rainy day and a dirty old fence. The blue tied it in with the blue of the window in the red building.
Then there is that white board in the front and center. Would the picture be better if I totally painted it out? It is interesting to me that the paint I put down was minimal, but now I can tell it's a dirty old white board hinged to the fence.
What's next? What do I need to do to finish it? If the texture of boards helped the red building, then will texture help the green roof on the left side? Again it can't hurt to try because this painting was long since given over to fussy detail.
I keep thinking of the critique at which Christy said "I am trying to dig myself out of a very deep hole." I did not see what the hole was that she was digging out of, but I observed that though she did not like what she had started in her painting, she was staying with it and finishing it.
I just know that the average joe might look at this work and like it BECAUSE of the fussy detail. It does not hurt me to practice this skill of accurate copying of what I see. This makes me remember again my teacher's words: Every once in a while you have to draw really well. He said that a few times this year in class.
I know he's not referring to fussing, but still I need to be able to draw really well, so on we go, finishing this painting with realistic touches. At the same time, I keep looking for color balance and I think I need another master class or two to understand how David does it. I look forward to finishing this picture and not having to look at it any more. I think it will look better framed and on the wall.
10 a.m. Time to get back to it.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

midnight editor

Flylady talks about the Midnight Editor. I have been writing on my prayer book this morning about a thought that came to me.
My coach asks me "What has helped you in the past?"
I was thinking about this question with regard to my present challenge of not being able to get myself to work 9 to 5 as if I am a paid artist. Another of his questions goes with: What is it going to take?
I listed things I have succeeded at before:
motherhood
marriage
graduated from college
superhero job at work
AIT
IBS
USPTA certification
working as a tennis professional
playing on a USTA team
working for BI for 4 years after my husband died
my first commissioned art project
D.Dewey's watercolor masterclass
11 years as a missionary, 31 years on staff of a mission organization

Here's what came to mind: all of the above had tracks to run on except marriage and motherhood.

Then I imagined my distance runner coach running in a race with no path set out for him, out on some hills and plains looking left and right, running this way for a while and then making a right turn for no reason whatsoever, his head going back and forth trying to think of which way to run, all the while running and spending lots of energy. There are weeds and rocks and uneven ground under his feet in this mental image. This makes me laugh. It is so absurd and it looks funny in my mind.

But truly, what makes it funny is it's absurdity. And it is way too close to the truth of what I have been doing. So why do I run around like a chicken with my head cut off?
And why am I trying to reinvent the wheel?

Next to each accomplishment on the list, I wrote what made me succeed? What made me get to the finish line?

Each time THERE WERE TRACKS TO RUN ON.
USPTA certification. I had a big fat notebook to study, hours of classes to teach (practice) and a pro to teach me how to teach.
college degree. It took 4 years, someone else decided the requirements, someone else gave the assignments and the grades; it was all planned out before I got there.
AIT (training to go overseas as a missionary) 3.5 months were set aside and we went to CA to sit in class, do assignments, play psyche games, study the Bible, turn in homework assignments and build team skills.
my first art commission. There were 30 pictures to paint. Each poem provided the idea for the painting.
Marriage--this one did not have specific enough tracks to run on, but the basic thing that made it successful was that we were both committed to making it work for the sake of honoring Christ, and I was committed to following my husband's leadership, so that I was not making up my own life route, that was decided by my husband (yes, I had input.)
4 years working after my husband died. I chose to help a specific person and just showed up and did what she wanted. There was no deciding on my part.
superhero stint. same thing, I showed up and did what the big managers asked. I was paired with a young woman who had administrative and leadership gifts and I said I don't care if I'm twice your age and then some, you decide, I'll help you do whatever.
D.Dewey's Watercolor Masterclass. I showed up and painted every day. He decided where we painted and using watercolor was a given and I tried to do what he told us to do.

So back to the coach running a race. No, he is not looking around wondering which way to run. He is on a specific track and you had better believe he's on the inside of the curve taking the shortest route to the finish line!

Then I wrote down: If you don't want to do the marketing part of your artist job, look for a gallery who will put up your work or hire someone to market your work on line and/or get a SCORE mentor who has done this before and ask him or her to do it for you.
Next I wrote: You know you are going to want a website.

Ron has said many times without a vision the people perish. It is scripture and the principle applies broadly to life. I am like that fire hydrant that has its cap off and the water is gushing out but there is no hose or nozzle attached to point the water at the base of the fire.

Why, I ask myself, have I gotten up and dinked around things at home since my mate died? I have given myself permission to grieve, that's a good thing, but not to the extent of allowing laziness.
I was overwhelmed and that was on top of already being a SHE (side-tracked home executive). So what I was dealing with was 30 years of living in Quadrant One (urgent plus important) as a mom, doing whatever seemed most pressing at the time to keep my family alive and well. Being in the helper role as a wife, almost 30 years of that. Suddenly he is gone and now my kids are almost grown and I'm not living to keep them alive moment my moment any more, they are almost independent.
When I was stressed out with fighting fires, I'd escape into Quadrant Four, time wasters like too much TV, sleep, and although I do not think tennis was exactly a time waster, yet I played any time I could because it was good therapy to crunch the fuzz right off the ball and get out all my frustration and hostility by getting physical on the court.

Now since I quit my BI job, and am about to terminate my present job and launch into full time writing and painting, it sure looks to me like I've been trying to reinvent the wheel.

I am making up a path for the first time. Others have had careers writing and painting and there is a way they have done it. I have a life purpose statement and I have made long term and short term goals but I lose sight of them (which must be why I paddle out a few feet from the dock and then stop)

Last thought: I have a love hate relationship with being single. I love the freedom and the thought of being someone else's follower is very unappealing to me now, but I realize that along with my freedom, only I own the responsibility for my life. If only I could find someone perfect who was doing exactly what I want to do and I could follow him. There is no such person.

I want to stay free and independent, but I am not yet able to lead myself successfully. I don't want to follow any more.

Well, none of this is really new. My coach and I have discussed these things, but the image of him running a race with no track....that helps me understand a little better why I am not winning my race yet.

Time to paint. I think I have more to say about this but not now.

Friday, August 25, 2006

To Tuumble

How did you find my blog? Tell me more about what you are up to. I presume you said your comment was spam because you sent it to lots of people.
Annie

Sandbox

I remember the big sandbox down at Mr. Neil's at the end of the street. All the kids in the neighborhood played there. Now my doctor has a tiny sandbox in her office for patients to mess with while they wait. It is about 10 by 10 inches and maybe one inch deep. It has two little wooden rakes, one with thick straight tines and one with longer, curvy spindley ones, a broom and several little rocks. She says it's a Zen thing. I usually clean up the spilled sand on the edges and on the table. I like the stones to be out from under the sand. I don't like the sand to be up to the edges spilling out. Then I just play with the rakes and make patterns in the sand.

And?

Why sandboxes? Some people play in them for a living and it's hard work.

When I played in the sandbox, I felt safe. Not even a problem with cats using the sandbox as a toilet. Well, possibly what we didn't know didn't hurt us....

Those who play in a sandbox in 2006 may or may not be safe. There are THINGS in the sand. Your job is to look at them and make sure they are not going to hurt you or your friends. If they threaten, your job is to neutralize them, or direct your party elsewhere. You couldn't pay most people enough to take on a job like this.

So I am going to get through this day and encourage my sandbox hero to do the same. One day, this one, this moment, actually, is all we have. We don't have 4 months. We have this moment. What are you going to do with it? Worry about how long 4 months is? Do my work the best I am able. Trust God. Smile. Paint pretty pictures and sell them. And sleep with a clear conscience.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

last day

Day Five Year Two

I forgot that if it is raining by 8:30 we are to call David and get instructions. A few of us turn up at the assigned place but no one is there. Last year we painted at this spot and it was raining. So we go to David's and get directions. They are in one of the local's studio. What a great place, windows on all sides and tables all around and a big center island. David is showing his book from Europe. It's wonderful to see and to hear him talk through his paintings. The owner has a yellow lab puppy named Lucy. After the class we look around the owner's home and see paintings everywhere and lots of windows looking out onto the water.

It's time to have lunch at David's house prepared by Kathy and her friend from NJ. Again I look all over the house at all the paintings. I hate to think of leaving and I'm disappointed that we did not get to paint. Two women come and ask me if I'd like to paint with them after lunch. YES! Perfect. We say our goodbyes and David is planting "mwah!" type kisses on our cheeks. I am surprised when one of the men doesn't want to let go of my hand when we are saying goodbye, and he wants to know if I'm coming next year.....yikes.

At Thomaston Harbor there is lots to paint. The nice young ladies at the restaurant make us coffee even though they are closed. Joan decides the umbrellas will look good opened, so she asks and we go open all of them. We think Susan is painting the umbrellas and we think she will be happy, but apparently she wasn't painting the umbrellas at all. She didn't even notice.
She has her big ole lab with her and he's been swimming. I try to teach him to drink water out of my camelpak.

I think I'll paint something realistic, but my painting turns out primitive looking, something that doesn't look like my work. I paint another post card sized picture of a white house peeking over some tall grass.

Before driving back home, I spent an extra day with my hostess, my daughter's mom in law. She takes me all around and shows me the area. It is a perfect day and we eat lunch outdoors by the water. I can't get enough of fish sandwiches. On the way home we stop to buy lobsters. The last man in line pretends we are his good friends and asks the lobsterman if he will get us some lobsters. I don't think he fooled anyone but the nice young man goes out in his boat and pulls some right out of the water for us. He only has soft shell, so we get 4. Two each. Now that was a satisfying dinner! I used up all my melted butter too. Ahhhhh. Maine.

Monday, August 07, 2006

John's

I think his name was John. Day Four, Year Two

He has a place out on the water where he tinkers. He has a very slapped together, very OLD group of buildings and lots of airplane parts, airplane photos with history in them, and other odd pieces of art and photos. He is there welding a bike part. Next to him is the body of a small plane. He has a little room where opera music plays. Going into the building where the bathroom is smells just like my grandfather's garage. I think it's the wood, plus the humidity, and all the STUFF, there is lots of stuff... and age of the place. Smells are so powerful to the memory. But he is David's friend and says we can come out there any time and paint. David likes places where there is ample stuff lying around to paint.

He paints a dock with an aircraft carrier and a lighthouse off on the horizon. On the shore near where we sit, it looks like someone has dumped bales of hay into the water and they have become all soggy and are rotting. But on closer observation, I see that they are Maine rocks covered with some kind of sea weed --- something yellowy brown and stringy looking.

I consider trying the same scene he chose, just to see what would happen. I had tried to copy a couple of his paintings out of his book the week before I left.

It takes me a long time to settle on an idea. Using my camera lens, I finally decide, but I think I have decided just because I feel pressure to get going, not because I like my idea. I use big paper today. I know I need to learn to work bigger. I prop my new board up on my knees and use my rolling backpack to support the other end. Big sketch. It's gray and overcast again. I lay in my big washes. After several washes the paper will start buckling, but I can't get what I want. I mix too many colors and it look muddy to me. I paint a dock and a tugboat as one shape. I have poles framing the sides leaning into the picture. The water gets muddier. I put reddish brown into the sky to balance the dock and it looks awful. One of my classmates had told me he liked the sky right before I did it and he said "I'd leave that sky alone."

While waiting for my washes to dry, I paint a little sketch of the cement silos, one square and one round. It takes only about 5 minutes. They are HUGE and they are fascinating, especially since we are situated right at the base of them, making them all the more dramatic in size. There is a ladder way up there leading from the top of one to the other. I wonder how you get up there. I paint some very small windows in the sides of them. I take some photos.

Several people walk by and comment on my dock painting. I say I hate it and want to rip it up and start over, but I must keep going and see what happens. This is another thing David has taught us. If you have an idea, and it doesn't seem to be working, keep going anyway.

David comes by and I say go away. He makes some helpful comments and I am sorry that I am being childish and letting myself get upset with my work. I brought a sandwich today so I don't have to take time off to go buy food. But it starts to rain a little. In fact it dripped all over David's demonstration and he talked of some artist who has a painting in a gallery in ...was it San Diego? and the painting has spots like this all over it.

I put all my things in a little carport like shelter that has a lawn mower in it so that I don't have to pack it all into my car and I drive off to find Dunkin Donuts. When I get back and drink my coffee the rain is over and we resume painting. Some are finished. I still don't like my work, but it did improve. People said they liked it. It's hard to accept a compliment when you yourself don't like it. I guess it was mostly the muddiness of the color that I disliked. And to define the pier supports, I had to go darker and darker till there was no darker left to go.

My 2 poles on the sides like parentheses look dumb to me.

One person who is not in the class this year came by and told me she thought it was David's demonstration painting. Now that is a high compliment to me and a grand insult to him.

It's Lobster Pound night and we all go out. I bring my Red Truck wine and share it with my table mates. We drink out of little paper cups but I see someone at the other table has brought wine glasses. I have on my plastic bib and someone must have gotten my hard shell because she comes out with only one lobster left and it's soft shell. OK I say and they refund me the difference in price which I put into the tip jar. It's good but it seems like I only get about 6 or 7 bites. The corn is not very good. But it's lovely sitting out there by the water and there is a beautiful orange lambswool sunset over the heads of my tablemates. One guy says hey we should rent one of those boats and go out on the bay. I say yeah, but we don't do it. Everyone breaks up and I drive home.

Day Three

Day Three, Year Two

We go to Drift In Beach. It's supposed to be 98 and extremely high humidity but the clouds keep us comfortable until at least afternoon. It's pretty stifling in the port-o-potty. I stay under the pine trees because I know the sun may come out soon. I am working on two trees making a shape with the shore rocks. He had painted a beautiful buttery yellow shape in the sky and the blues and grays framing it, but I didn't really see it until he said buttery and put it into his painting.

I went to the General Store at Port Clyde and have a sandwich and I find another bottle of Red Truck wine. A new tradition has started. It is for Thursday night at the Lobster Pound.

We comment to each other how much information comes out of David as he teaches us. It feels overwhelming. You want it all. I take notes. Others do too, and some are sketching or painting while he demonstrates. But I realize that although he gives out more than I can understand, more than I can assimilate, he goes over some things many times, and that eventually I will learn if I just listen and watch, and then try to do it. I realize I understand better this year than last when he talks of building a painting from the back forward. I get his "architectural footprint" a little more this year.

When the sun comes out in the afternoon, it wants to change the look of my painting. David can remember the look and keep to his original plan, but I am a novice, and I want to keep changing my picture as the light, colors and shadows change. Again I do a tiny 3 by 5 painting while waiting for the bigger one to dry. There are lots of people on this small beach, lots of kids. I want to paint them but they are wiggley. David says make them wiggle, but the day is almost over and I finish my painting.

At critique many of us have tried to do what he is talking about rather than just going on painting the way we always do. I see more economy in others' paintings. He says mine is like yesterday's in this way. He talks about the negative space and shows how he would draw the painting outlining the negative spaces. I think, yes, that is how I did draw that painting, so I guess I did something right. I put buttery yellow in my sky too, but I think I was planning to go and add something else when it dried, but I never did. The water was too dark, but people still like it. They comment on the composition and tell me they like the one I did yesterday a lot.

The Lobster Festival started today, but I have no desire to go this year. Too crowded in the midway.

Collective Sigh


Day Two, Year Two

We went to Fisherman's Pier with the smell of fish and the air full of gulls. This is where I painted a lobster boat last year, the first painting I liked, the one David said I should frame and put on my mantle.

His demonstration is of a red building that seems to be in a lot of his paintings. The sky is gray and he makes the window seen through the open door effectively part of his composition. He is so good. I forget to take pictures of his demonstrations. My camera battery is unreliable too. While he is painting someone comes and tells him that we might want to move...they're bringing in a truck to pick up a huge mast. They offered us 20 minutes. 20 minutes was ok anyway. David handles pressure well. I think he likes it. But I never did see them come get the mast.

I paint a small ship head on. I don't know what kind it is or what it is used for. The air smells like dead fish and I want to go near the lobstermen and listen to them sounding like Mainers, but I go to the same spot I was in last year. The boat is attractive and is painted dark green and red, my beloved Seattle colors.

It takes me a while to decide how to set up my composition. Composition, that is what I really wanted to learn about this year. I cannot remember anything I may have learned about composition in art school. Perhaps I should have played less frisbee and done more homework. To frame pictures I look through my camera lens and move it around until the grouping pleases my eye. I have learned that you can move things around any way you like when you are making art.

While my big painting dries I do a sketch of the same scene on my post card sized paper. While that dries I go back to my big painting. I like my ship but I'm not done when it's time to go to critique.

I talk a little with some of the other class members.

He goes through all the paintings and I like a lot of them. When he gets to mine it is the last one and when he holds it up there is a collective audible response. I am shocked. They really like it, I guess. I do, too. It is totally different from the bright and primitive work of yesterday.

He says he hates to use this word, but this is an almost perfectly painted picture. I am shocked again. I know I am trying to get a basic shape to make a piece of art on the paper, and I feel I understand a little better what he means when he talks about this, but wow. He uses the word economy, which means I am not overpainting and being fussy. Good thing I ran out of time, I may have gone there.

I decide I'm not touching this picture, lest I ruin it, though I decide I must try to repaint it and finish it with just a little more 'information'. David tells me how HE would finish the bowsprit (or whatever it's called, the thing coming up off the front of the boat like a trumpeting elephant) and I make a mental note. I think this class is a little better than last year.

No Disappointment

Year Two of David Dewey's Watercolor Masterclass Workshop.

Since last year, my first experience, my feet hardly touching the ground all week, this year I was trying to keep myself from being too psyched up, lest I set myself up for a feeling of let down.

Ah, no.

I drove up to Bath to stay with my good friend, the mom of my daughter's husband. It takes about 12 hours. Next morning I'm up very early to make the hour plus commute, but I'm still late. I misjudged how much time it took for the commute to Owl's Head, forgot about the slow moving trucks on the two lane road, and did not remember to review the details to David's house, and I couldn't find 73 at first.

So I felt badly because he held off starting until I arrived. Although I saw many familiar faces, they didn't seem all that welcoming. He says we were just chatting. I apologized sincerely.

We stay right there in downtown Owl's Head and he does a demo of the back of the general store. I paint two kyacks on a rack and it looks like a banana and a frisbee. Very bright. He says it's hard not to like this painting at the critique. (My subconscious is wondering, is this a way of saying, you shouldn't like this painting!?) He says that my painting says: "I'm up in Maine having a wonderful time."

Christie, his assistant, had told one of my classmates nearby to come look at my picture. I'm not afraid to use my darks and make my shadows deep. That is why I chose to paint the kyacks, the drama between the garish yellow and red and the deep shadows. But again, just like last year, it looks like 6th grade prang paints to me and it is bloppy and full of too much overflowing paint.....

I am not so concerned about the critique this year though. I am here to learn.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Celtic Woman

After 11 years I finally got myself and my girls to the outdoor theatre. "Where the arts come out to play." I've always wanted to go there and all 3 of us like the music of "Celtic Woman". Perfect.

We didn't know how early to go, but we packed food and my camelpak with a little bottle of wine inside the ice water pouch. Alcohol is permitted. Parking was free and we hiked up the hill. It was a warm summer evening and we were one of the first to arrive. The others arriving looked like they'd done this many times. They planted their coolers and packs by the gates. So we did the same.

The late afternoon sun created high contrast between the dark green pines and the white tent. I pulled out my paints and painted a little sketch, writing in colors since I thought I would not finish. We waited by the gates for about an hour. I had a travel pad of watercolor paper and a tiny paint set with one brush. I used a few drops of water from the camelpak and mixed colors in the pan lid.

The gates opened 90 minutes before the show and we hustled along with the veterans down the hill to get a prime seat on the grass, spread out our blankets and pulled out our food.

DD the elder had brought a book of Mad Libs. Each page has a story with blanks. She asks for a noun, a verb, a name of someone in the group, an adjective. When the blanks are filled she reads the story and it comes out non-sense. We laugh at the funny ones.

My sandwich wasn't that good, but I didn't really care what I ate. They had bought 3 pounds of macaroni salad, yeah, I'd say that was a bit more than we needed! We ate about 1/10th of it. She bought chicken, too. It was a happy place to be, on the lawn, looking around at all the other picnickers. What a great family outing.

It was still light when the show began.

They come out. We cheer. They sing. Their voices are high and clear and feminine and they are in beautiful dresses. We have 2 sets of binoculars and they all look beautiful. The backgroud visuals are waves on a sea. They sing of love and of Ireland. Some in English, some in fairy language. The girl with the violin IS a fairy, I'm sure of it. She is barefooted and she dances around flinging her long blong hair as she plays. Her skirt is like a fairy's skirt. Her ankle is wrapped. Their voices blend. There are 8 or 10 back-up singers, both guys and girls, and they are dressed in black. We have heard many of the songs before. We have seen this show on PBS and my youngest has the CD.

At intermission, I roll over, the pressure on the tailbone gets to you sitting on a slope. When they begin again it is dark and their visuals change to moon and stars. I love the dress that is deep blue with red-orange trim at the top and bottom. They each dress in different colors.

I love the flute, and the flute player has a rack with about 6 different flutes in it and he changes them out and also plays bagpipes and mandolin. The 2 drummers use drumsticks that I have not seen before, but I cannot remember the last concert I went to so what do I know? The two drummers have one piece they play with a drum in one hand that looks a little like a tamborine, and some sort of sticks in the other and they walk around taking turns playing with the fairy and her bass violin.

It has cooled off and people are covering up. I have on 2 long sleeved layers so I'm not cold but we put one blanket under us and cover up with another.

They end with You Lift Me Up So I Can Climb on Mountains and we all stand up for them.

We would do this again.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

For Sale

Apparently I have someone interested but my realtor sent him off to the lender to see if he can handle it. I'm not getting my hopes up yet.

I hated to trash the trampoline, it being such a source of joy. But the girls both said they probably wouldn't have a place to set it up - wherever they are moving - and hauled it to the street. I am looking out the window at a man unfolding the jumpy part. He puts it into his truck and proceeds to the driver's seat. I go out. Aren't you going to take the whole thing? No, I just want to cover my fire wood. I say I have a friend who is interested in it for his kids. He gives me his cell number and we agree that if my friend wants it he can call. My friend does want it, so I hauled it back off the street so he can pick it up. The trash guys are coming today.

We slept on the porch again. I was planning to anyway, since it is so nice and the insect orchestra is playing nightly. But I had extra incentive in that my "to sort" box got sorted all over my bed, but not put into files yet!

In the morning the orchestra of bugs is taken over by birds. I watch the changes of the light behind the trees. At night they look like dark masses and you can see all sorts of creatures and objects in their shapes if you have any imagination. In the morning, the shades of green start to appear and then the oak branches.

I have my coffee on the porch swing. Lots done yesterday in the category of "puttsing around". I like puttsing around if I'm tackling things I've been wanting to do for a long time. I was looking for my ticketmaster gift card in my box labeled "to sort". It's a pretty white box, a convenient way to stash low priority mail and odd paper projects. It is sorted now, thus the piles on my bed. DON'T YOU LOVE THROWING AWAY PAPER?

So while this guy was looking at the house, I went with my daughters to look at a basement apartment. She is miffed that the guy doesn't want pets, 'who can cause damage and leave little presents behind when you move the sofa', while the place he is offering stinks like smelly basement and seems kinda hard to damage in her opinion. I say landlords make blanket rules like that because they've had bad tenants in the past. I waited my turn in the car with the dog, but they both got the creeps in there and said I shouldn't bother going in. However the guy called twice and said when can you move in? He wants her of all those who came to look. Apparently he rents out the other parts of the house to other folk. I'm more concerned about who this guy is and who else lives in the house than the stinky basement issues.

I called my in-laws to tell them I'm selling the house. Grandpa sounds old, slower in speech, but he appreciates knowing what we're up to. My son will be with them tomorrow and they're excited. Grandma says we can't travel any more and when are you coming to see us? An email to friends about moving produced MANY responses - all positive, very affirming. It is good to have friends.

I need to find that ticketmaster card because we are planning to go to see the Celtic Women and they might be selling out. Not finding it is at least getting me to declutter yet more paper in the search.

It is a good feeling getting caught up on all the things that need to be fixed in the house. And it's only getting done because it's for sale.

The decision to sell was a long time coming but there is no turning back now. I have so many pro/con lists I could wallpaper my house with them.
Pro/con: move or not move.
Move to the village or rent? Rent or buy?
Move to a place my daughters can live with me, or move by myself?
Rent out the basement or move?
Pay a realtor or let my son do for sale by owner?
Rent out the downstairs for studio space or move?
Get out of bed or stay in bed (ok, I didn't make a pro/con list about that...)
Move to the village or to the beach?
Move to the beach temporarily or move straight to the mountains?
Move to Seattle or Colorado or N.C. or the beach? yikes!

This is an adventure for sure. Scarey, and also exciting.

The realtor, J.D., has been over here several times in the past few years discussing the possibility of moving. This time I was ready....um, I think.
Yes, I am sure. No turning back. I'll grieve and move forward.

-- off to the flower nursery to get lots of red, fuscia and blue flowers with little accents of white. I lose my good sense in that place. Too many gorgeous colors! I bought pre-planted containers, which I never do but I wanted instant garden. They were all so beautiful gathered in under a little awning with bubbling fountains. A soothing sound that drew me in and slowed my pace. I guess that's why people put fountains in their gardens. I loaded up my cart and went home $140 later. An investment in the sale of my home. "Spend money to make money."

Bit by bit the long wooden planter by the side of the house sank into the soft earth the past couple of years, neglected. My daughter and I moved it so that it would be in view when you come out of the screened porch. Her end lost its two iron legs, rotted right off the bottom. But we propped it back up on them. I put 6 potted plants down inside, hiding their pots and had an instant planter. Looks wonderful. Vincas, begonias and impatiens in red, fuscia, pink and white.

Out front I set everything down and schemed. First the hanging basket went up: voluptuous red begonias and those hanging up-side-down purple and red flowers -- I have no idea what they are called -- and some brilliant pink geraniums. I extended the chain hanger so that it hangs just above the porch rail.

Then on each side of the sidewalk, oh boy, this is where I spent more time than I wanted to. I kept moving and rearranging until I felt the colors were balanced. In the end I needed more red.

My back is being iced. My right elbow feels tennis elbow-ish.

Anyway it was threatening to rain again that night. We were soggy from storms and they evacuated a town to the North of us due to the weakening of a dam.

I ask my youngest how she is feeling about moving.
It sucks, she says. (sorry)
She will have to grieve too.

I moved the books to my car, the ladder to storage artwork back into portfolios behind my new art storage chest.

My weeding method: Make sure the ground is wet. Take a flat shovel and slide it just under the soil loosening the weeds' roots and then grab them. Shake off excess dirt and pitch into a pile.

The dog went out with me but she ran and hid when I got out the hose to do the back windows with outdoor Windex, the one you attach to your hose. It works pretty well.

I took the storm window off the front and washed both sides. That is a big one and requires a screwdriver and a little wiggling of the exacto knife between the cracks to get it off, then somehow wrestling it back on because the black rubber rim is coming off making it too wide. But I won and the windows are clean.

There is such a long list of things we COULD do, but I know certain things are more important than others. And I know that my front storm window is cleaner than it needs to be. It's hard to clean half-heartedly.

I've had a ton of exercise but I still would like to walk the dog.
When I stand up after gardening and feel the stiffness in my back, I always love looking over the transformation that has taken place. I really like digging in the dirt and yes, I tell the plants they will like it here though in truth, they are potted and I intend to take them with when I move. The hostas are starting to bloom.

I didn't feel very happy finishing putting all my husband's books into my car. The last of his ministry and I'm just giving them away. I pulled out a few. It's good I didn't have my glasses on or I might have started reading one of them. Now my car is loaded up I'll have to find out which church might want these books for their library.

I'm not looking forward to telling my boss I'm leaving. No, that will not be fun. I have started feeling the loss at my job, too.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

A Dream

We were a group somewhere working at some sort of conference. My dog was there, as were other peoples' dogs and they were all in soft sided crates put right next to each other in one area of a room. Uh oh, will she be able to bite through this fabric?

We talked amongst ourselves as people do when they work together. My best friend from High School was there and we were laughing. Our projects took us from room to room. Were we carrying and moving things? Setting up as in where is everyone going to sleep? Was it like camping only indoors? It was a temporary situation, but was it because of terror threats or loss of electricity? Something was going on, but all I remember is that we were in a group.

(This is one of my recurring dreams, traveling and working in a group. Most of these dreams I've had are about everyone else seemingly knowing what their place is and what they are supposed to be doing and I am sidelined trying to figure it out.)

There was a man there who spoke with me and others a few times and I found him interesting. I don't remember what he said, or even the topic, but he caught my interest. Our conversation was brief but I was able to talk to him and respond to his comments with something he apparently found interesting in return. He was nice, he was intelligant, he was funny and he was somewhat tall with a medium sized build. I think he was blond. He was I think from the U.S., He was educated well and listened to what I said. I also do not remember what I said. Later we all needed to go somewhere and I discovered I only had flip flops that were shrunken to about 2/3 sizeed. I was laughing and wearing them anyway. I said something about my daughters putting them through the wash. They were tight on my feet, but the place was cluttered and things were all out of place and it didn't seem safe to go bare foot.

We were lining up for breakfast, French Toast? I could not see the whole picture in my mind, only the people immediately around me. Did I have money? Did I need it or was it already paid for? Can't remember.

So somewhere in this event, this man, who remained nameless, asked me out. He asked me to go to Kosovo with him. He said there was a nice place there where he loved to go dancing, and he described the feeling of the place. Kosovo?! Do people fly over the Atlantic on the first date? Weird. I was shocked and I said something to him about what would I do with my dog? But I wanted to go. The dream went on. As he was going into the other room, I overheard him....say to his companion that I would have a good effect on him. I felt flattered and surprised. But shocked at the invitation to go out 'to Kosovo'. Now then by this time in the dream he was either turning into the star of the Gods Must Be Crazy or he reminded me of that guy. I was thinking Wow, he's a movie star and he asked ME out. I was working and he was behind me and I was aware that I was not in my nice clothes but in grubby jeans and not conditioned and feeling fat and wondering whether he was checking me out physically and finding me unappealing and changing his mind. If he has seen me and still asked me out, then maybe physical conditioning is not so important to him at our age.

My girlfriend came to me later and said that guy wants to know if you want to go with him, he was serious. Without a moment's hesitation I said YES emphatically and we were together again and I was apologizing for not giving a clear answer to his invitation. Suddenly he was a potential new husband not just a date and again I was amazed that he valued ME. He and I were both older and I realized that you kind of look at people more realistically if you've been married. In my dream I thought of him saying "Ay yi yi yi yi" like the guy in the movie. It made me laugh, it attractcd me to him for him to identify with the guy who was clumsy with women, but this man, I don't think, was uncomfortable with women. It was something else that reminded me of that actor, maybe his looks? His work as a scientist in Africa? I don't know. For him to take me to Kosovo to dance meant he had money. It also meant he knew how to dance and liked to dance. I began calculating how fast I'd have to take dance lessons and practice! Answer, you really don't have time to get dance lessons...he doesn't mean next month. But I have always wanted to learn to dance and I was thinking maybe he could teach me. I know I CAN dance, I just need lessons before I'm too old. How did he know Kosovo? Was he an intellect, a scholar, a diplomat, an international business man? He is a traveler. I want to travel. To ask someone to Kosovo definitely means he's adventuresome. He definitely thinks outside the box. My best friend didn't try to come in between me and him either. She didn't flirt with him and try to divert his attention from me to herself (not how it was back in the days...)

I woke up sighing.....a romantic person to release me from all my present worries and take me far away to dance in Europe. Someone who is smart and yet still finds ME interesting and values me the first time he meets me. As I was waking, I was thinking: I think this was a Christian gathering, but I'm not sure. Was this guy a believer? He did not say anything about it, nor did I. I would in real life have to find out before I said yes. And besides, even if he were, how do you go to Europe on a date requiring overnight stay and avoid the appearance of evil? Ha ha. I'd have to ask him outright: we're in separate rooms, right? and you are not planning to come into my room, right? Why do you want to take me out?

About dreams, all my dreams are weird, but for some reason I wrote this one down. Since I've decided to move, I'm having even weirder dreams almost every night, some are frightening but not exactly night mares. I guess I find this one a little humorous.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

King

My son came again this past weekend, Memorial Day weekend. He came 2 weeks ago and cleared out all my big items, sofa sleeper, dining room table, stereo system, huge file cabinet and on and on. (See previous post)

They arrived at 2:30 am because he had driven himself to put in his flower beds and finish his patio. We all slept in. By the time we were up and fed, it was after noon.

He started with a little pep talk. We were going to attack the job, room by room. He cleared out the shed, heaving heavies over the fence into the yard, from where we dragged them over to the trash pile. I had to pull him away from that project since the shed is not even on my property and cannot be inspected. All sheds behind my house and the neighbors' houses are on the university's property, but this is just a piece of their woods and for now, they do not mind. But the main thing was to make room for the lawn mower and yard tools. There were ants and mice and a huge spider.

Next the work room, full of half used paint, out of place tools, mini-blinds, old electrical odds and ends, a drawer full of toilet fixing things.....pieces of wood and glass and screening,etc.

He made me sort paint. The touch-up paints for the next homeowner went on this shelf. On the other, paints I intended to use. The rest went to the hazmats pile to haul off to the special recylcing place. Even now as I write I am remembering one of his mantras: Is it worth enough money that you are willing to haul it and store it? like my extra cans of paint in colors that I want in my ideal office. Five or ten dollars for a new can when I'm ready...I think I'll go and add those to the hazmats. The silly voice in me is protesting: but I got such a good deal. It was only a dollar and it's the exact color I want.

We installed the drawers of my beautiful new IKEA drawer unit. I used my new power screwdriver, woo hoo! Since I'm not going to rent out my basement any more, I don't need it for the kitchenette...we put my art supplies in it. It has 12 drawers with glass fronts, very nice looking piece with a butcher block top.

The biggest relief is that I sorted my husband's books. The King put a stack in my lap and walked inside to get another with these words trailing off with him: "by the time I get back I want those gone. Left side is give away, right side is keep." He comes back and finds me opening and looking through one "No, mom, you cannot look at them. If you aren't sure, put them in the keep pile and sort them again later". OK OK, I say and I start flinging books. "Yes, that's it, he says, good. That's what I'm looking for." I don't know how long it took, but I was amazed that I actually got done with all the books.

That was hard, actually, just like going through his files. So many years of collecting books for his ministry. Books about missions, theology, discipleship, God's character, God's holiness, prayer, family, support-raising. I planned to give them to my church until I came across one that he had bought from our church library when they must have been culling their books....oh, well, that's just one book. Someone will be interested and helped by SOME of them at least. I wonder if they have room for them in our little study building. Or if they'll have to store them. If they don't want them, now, I shall have to offer them to a church with room for them.

I don't remember which ones, but I think I hugged a couple of them to my chest and sighed. Then there were our marriage and family workbooks, I had to peek in to see if they were leaders' guides or our own personal copies. If they had our hand-writing in the blanks, they got thrown away. A few years ago I probably couldn't have imagined I'd want to throw them away, though why I'd want to go through them I wouldn't know. Still, I did picture myself reading through them again one day. Tossed.

While I was sorting the books, he was organizing the bedroom downstairs. We stored the blankets and pillows in the wardrobe that used to be in my daughter's room.

We had eaten Chipotles, a very late lunch at dinner time. After all the rooms were done but one, most of us were ready to quit.....except the KING. He said we are not done. We attacked the laundry room. He made me throw out all my emtpy milk jugs which are supposed to be filled with 3 days of drinking water and 3 days of washing water for 3 of us in case of emergency. He said there are no hurricanes here. I whined it's not hurricanes, it's terrorism, and they tell us on the radio we are supposed to have this. (Of course I had the jugs but they were not filled with water. And the crackers and tuna and non-perishable food has long since been eaten.) Out they went, being rudely kicked and thrown towards the back door.

The dog cousins were underfoot at times "What's happening? What's all the excitement about? Do we get to do anything? Anyone want to play? Oh, there's the neighbor's dog! Let's go out and bark at him!" A few minutes later you'd look over at them and they'd be stretched out on their sides in identical poses enjoying the coolness of the basement floor.

The laundry room. Lots of "someday project" material went. The T-shirts I saved from the King's and my years as tennis players, which I was going to make into a quilt one day. There was a discussion about the reverse osmosis water filter. He said what's wrong with a Brita? I'm considering that one. I asked him to install my 3 new filters, but he did not. It is a nuisance to have to hook it up and I expect I will not have space in which to park it at my smaller house. It's probably time to give it up.

I tried to by-pass the cedar closet, that's just my winter clothes I said except I think my wedding dress might be in the bottom. He starts holding up things and putting the keepers on hangers. I ended up throwing out a lot of things and finding a few of my 'lost' summer clothes.

He kept saying, "holy schmokes and a pancake." and then he'd laugh. I finally asked him what movie is that from? He said an Austin Powers movie, that I don't recommend you go see....it was a Dutch guy who said something about smoke and a pancake and he added the holy to the smoke. Now I'll be saying it and I haven't even seen the movies.

Under the stairs, the last place, out came the suitcases and Christmas decorations and large pieces of art boards. Back in went the suitcases and a few sleeping bags.
My dear daughter-in-law swept everything as we went.

Then we all stood in the middle of the main room and the King said, "Now, Mom, how do you feel?" I said If I had finished only Dad's books, I would have felt I had done a huge thing, that in itself was huge, but we have done the whole basement. It feels wonderful! He said I know I pushed everyone, but I knew I was the only one who would keep us going and if I stopped everyone would stop.

I'm tired, he said. I intended to go upstairs and finish the mia and make rice or fu fu yam, but no one was hungry and I was shocked that it was midnight.

Why did we call him KING? In case you didn't pick it up, he was bossing us all around and we were jumping at his command. Long ago I remember a Christian speaker saying that the best government is not democracy, but rather a benevolent dictator. That is how he was functioning. He was unquestionably boss, but he had my best interest in mind, not his own selfish comfort.

We had to call the daughter in Seattle and discuss July 4th plans, so I called her and he lay down on the kitchen floor and was asleep within about 5 minutes. His wife had to wake him and get him to go to bed.

I am so blessed to have such wonderful children, including my son-in-law and daughter-in-law. My son has his father's drive and ability to focus on a project. He is distractable, but you wouldn't know it when he's helping me declutter and organize my house for moving. After all that physical work, I made him talk through options for paying my bills between now and when I have cash in hand from the sale of my house.

Next day we talked for a while over breakfast and then they left with the partially cooked mia, my kids' favorite meal from Africa. He deserved so much more than that. I told his wife how to finish it up. He will enjoy that. I just shake my head in disbelief at how blessed I am to have children that are so fun and make me laugh and help me and return love to me as adults! Thank You, Lord.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

How Blessed I am

My son and his wife came for Mother's Day weekend. I'm selling my house and he helped me declutter any BIG items that I will not be taking with me. My realtor said you are not ready to put your house on the market.....get all your excess things out.

We walked through the house and every single thing I am not moving, he hauled out to the street. We put out a huge FREE (Gratis) sign and watched people come and take things. Thanks for showing me, Flylady, that it is not worth the time or effort to set up a garage sale, just GIVE IT AWAY. He had his truck and if you lived in the neighborhood, he put your couch on the flatbed and hauled it to your house. This was not just because he's a nice guy, but to make sure that if they wanted it and had no way to get it home, it would indeed be removed from Mom's front yard.

He did in one day what would take me 10 years to finish. I let go of many sentimental things. He helped me decide how to get rid of his dad's files. We did not take time to sort small things. That will be in the next give-away. A neighbor is coming to get my extra freezer and fridge when he gets a way to get it home.

What a blessing! Then we went out to eat. We were going to have a bonfire and burn stuff, but ran out of steam. He took each of his sisters out, one before church and one after. they came home with flowers and cards, including one from the dog, after which he showed me a picture on his cell phone of my dog with pen in paw and a card on the floor next to her! I told him he cannot leave. He does not want to leave because he wants to finish the entire house so that the only things left in the house are things I will take with me when I move.

We drove through the neighborhood I plan to move into and he did not like it. I think he got a superficial impression. There was one woman having an open house. Her place had only 2 bedrooms and was expensive. I loved it. She had opened up the floor plan and put in beautiful wooden windows and high quality detailing, very simple and very much my style. But I know there are no others like that in that place. And the reason for my move at this time is not to find a wonderful place, but rather a small CHEAPER place to live while I focus on my work. The son has come up with yet another option: if you are planning on getting to the income you need in about 2 years, why not just rent? Why make a down payment? Why pay closing costs? So now I have to talk this one over with my realtor.

Wow, all I know is that when he comes around, things happen. I invited him to help me and he loves to declutter and he's strong as an ox, so we did it.
Things I let go of:
gas grill
good quality sofa sleeper
my husband's dresser
large steel file cabinet
2 small file cabinets
sewing machine in solid wood case
matching lamps
kids' table and chairs
dining room table
2 captains chairs
oak coffee table
end table
tea cart
4 lawn chairs
badminton set
whatever else

I felt for my daughter-in-law because this probably wasn't her idea of a great time, but our beloved dogs, the cousins, played together and provided entertainment for us. She is courageous and supportive.

So I thank God for my children ALL OF THEM and I marvel at the strengths of each of them, and this time, the decisiveness of my son which he got from his dad and his drive to keep going and finish. My daughter far away wished she could have been there to help because she is also good at such things and keeps a clutter free life.

In the process of talking about their own stash of garage sale items in their garage, they decided NOT to go to the group yard sale and set up a table next weekend but to take the full trailer and haul it to good will or Salvation Army. Neither of them even enjoy it and they don't need the money. So that decision gave them their next Saturday free to do something they enjoy.

My house almost echoes like an empty house and I can no longer sit on my couch for my one TV show per week, The Unit, and pet my dog. I even gave away my stereo system intending to get a Boze when I sell my house.

God is good and I am the most blessed of mothers in all the world.