YOU DESERVE

Weary of this phrase in advertising.  Effective way to get selfish humans to buy more STUFF.

Every time I hear it or read it, I have to ask, how do you know someone deserves something.  What did they do to merit a reward? And I looked up deserve and it is about both a reward and a PUNISHMENT.  Hey, you deserve to get an F on your homework.  You deserve to be in jail.  You deserve to get divorced.  You deserved to crash your car.  Would you hear those words with the same glee?  Where did this entitlement mentality come from and how can I make it go away?

To me it seems quite normal to want personal peace and comfort for self, family, and friends, countrymen, and then the world.  But to throw around YOU DESERVE this and that......

Life is a gift.  I am grateful.  I do not say it is wrong to have a treat or buy something you don't NEED.  But people who fall into this I DESERVE thought pattern are in a trap of greed, love of money (sin) and insatiable desire.

I think if someone in a third world country heard an advertisement saying You DESERVE this, they would look at you with befuddlement!

Homework

Assignment:  Write a paragraph outlining how you will Search your heart, or cut the ropes, or Submit to plastic surgery, or Share Your Wealth.  --page 228, #7. of Calm My Anxious Heart, by Linda Dillow (Women's Bible study I am in at church)  I chose

I.  Submit to plastic surgery.

A.  I do not have credit card debt, but I am living above my means, using up my retirement savings and my kids' inheritance.  I have been a hippie-cricket, judging people who live with credit card debt, while I myself have refused to do the math and live within my means.  I am not totally wicked and out to lunch, in that I tried to buy a condo that was within my means, I sought counsel, looked far and wide, prayed.  But my assumption that I would reach a certain income within a few years without working hard enough to do so and the correlating assumption that I would not use up my savings too fast was inaccurate to say the least.  So I bought.  Then the economy went South and carried my investments with it.

So just as one who hits bottom, and realizes he or she needs to cut up her credit cards and pay off her debts, I have made a SMART goal on how I might reverse my life style from living outside my means to living inside my means.

My goal is to either 

1.  sell my condo and/or

2.   do these 4 things:

a.   get a roommate and

b.   refinance

c.    get a part time job

d.    ramp up painting and marketing;  i.e.  WORK HARDER

(I.)  This most important part of the goal needs to be made into a SMART goal of it's own!  I do have a couple of action steps from this already but it needs more work on Specific and Time sensitive.

Most of all self-coaching has helped me tremendously to sort this goal out.  However I am very aware of me need for PEOPLE and accountability to reach this goal.  That is one reason why I'm writing this assignment right out there in cyberspace.  Comments welcome.  

May the fog clear as I go forward, one baby step at a time.

  

yet another silly poem

Once upon a time there was

a blog of minor note because

unfocused blog it often was;

so let's talk company of  Trust.

We want Trust company out, I said it.

That's the truth and you just read it

So the lawyer works upon it

and he maketh progress on it.

I read about the lawyer's call;

it made me happy, that is all.

I hear he's moving wisely forward

Better that than hearing no word

So I rest me in the thought

The Lord is trusted for He's got

all this trust stuff in His power,

And now it is the bedtime hour.

Bird Dog

 Urgent!  one year old black lab needs home.

 People inquire and I shoot myself in the foot by being honest: she bit me & I don't trust her around babies. Plus she "leaks"and has signs of hip dysplasia.  I don't want to waste time with those who will change their mind after they learn these things.

 A couple people with dog experience can see beyond the problems ... labs are still a great pets.

So I took her to Florida and posted her down there on craigslist.

Dog Angel wanted to try her out so I drove 2 hours to drop her off.  

Here come three dogs down the lane to meet us.

There are 2 horses, 3 cats,  and a goose.

Zoie tucks tail while the 3 dogs follow her around sniffing her rear end.  Two of them are black labs and one looks just like her. 

There is a commotion behind the barn followed by too much quiet.  Dog Angel goes off to investigate and I see Zoie running away from her and, oh no, did I see something in her mouth?  Oh, please no, Zoie.  She will not come to Dog Angel, so I call out:  ZOIE!  come!  She comes to me and drops the shiny black chicken at my feet and looks up at me with a feather hanging off her lip.....Did I do good, Mommy?

That is one very dead chicken, I said.

I say Zoie, no, but I am not very insistent about it.  God made her to kill birds and she has not yet been trained.  It's too late anyway.

She takes off after the goose.  Dog Angel has walked up and she's going NO NOT THAT ONE!  I'm after Zoie yelling NO NO NO. She almost had the goose, but she did not get him and it hissed at her and she backed off.  Dog Angel says the goose will go after her.  Whew!  That was close.

Dog Angel picks up the chicken and it's dead neck is hanging from her hand while she says to me, "She's 'a bird dog."  

I apologize.  I feel awful and I think I've driven out here for nothing.

But Dog Angel says she'd still like to try her for a couple days and  that her dogs have done this, too.  I used to cry, she said, but they are just yard ornaments.  She really loves the dogs.

So I call in 2 days.  This is a very sweet dog, she says, and she slept at the foot of my bed. and I love her, but she killed the neighbor's cat.

OH NO!  I am so sorry......

I will come get her, unless you know someone who would like her? 

So she thought about it all day.  

When I call back, she carefully presents the shock collar idea.  I sense she is afraid that I will get angry...that I will consider it cruel.  

But she would like to try working with Zoie.   She calls the collar 'letting God talk to her'.   I am very ok with it.  Zoie is responsive and it will not take much.

So in spite of Zoie's best efforts to make a bad impression, she has a new forever family.  And what could be better for a dog? --life on a farm with a pack of dogs, horses, cats and geese.   And a human who will take care of her every need.  May they all live happily ever after.

Zoie, a Corny Poem

Zoie had a bath today.

I took her in the tub. 

It's warm.  She tolerates it well.

The water drains, glub glub.

She shakes and wiggles, soaks three towels,

and runs about the place.

She's clean and soft and smells so good

So I just kiss her face.

Wishing she were not a lemon

Wanting to adopt her, but

She bit me once and that's enough.

Adoption door is shut.

Here's a myth that needs dispelling:

Certain dogs will NEVER bite.

ANY dog, if scared enough,

By instinct prove that that's not right.

Each dog has a bite threshold

add up those things that frighten.

Push those buttons all at once,

I guarantee that dog's a-bitin'.

For Zoie it was fire works

new place, new people, all at night.

I plop down next to her to cuddle.

She fears sore hips I'll touch, so bite!

Suddenly with hole in forehead,

What just happened? we all said.

Sudden movement to shift over,

final straw to bite has led.

This dog has some pain in hips

Toddlers wouldn't respect this,

So we cannot mix the two.

Could Zo's new human be YOU?

We are down to one more day!

Traveling to see my Dad.

Must give this sweet dog away.

Makes me just a little sad.

Thanksgiving, the most blessed of holidays.

The family gathered. Mom prepared a huge meal successfully bringing all hot dishes to the at table in sync.

In the kitchen, she was in her element. We were dressed up in church clothes and the table in lace. There was an elaborate centerpiece with perhaps a deer, sparkly fake snow and candles hand made each year by my father’s secretary. We were all happily looking forward to Mom's lime jello "salad" with dream whip, pineapple, nuts and cream cheese, and marshmallows in it, which was really a dessert.

The hot home made rolls melted the butter. Add jelly from a pretty little bowl. Mound up the mashed potatoes with more butter and skip the gravy. It was the side dishes that made the turkey taste good.

Thanksgiving foods with sugar:

sweet potatoes
jello salad
pie
ice cream
rolls with jelly
cranberry sauce
sweet drinks
pumkin
apple

High fat list:

gravy
butter in the mashed potatoes
French fried onions on the green bean casserole
butter on the rolls
pie
ice cream & whipped cream
salad dressing
butter in the vegetables
corn souffle
butter on the sweet potatoes
stuffing

Thanksgiving foods that are LOW in sugar or fat:

hmmmm, thinking, um, uhhhhhh, let’s see....Can’t think of any right off hand. Ok maybe the relish tray if you skip the dip.

We 3 girls set the table correctly as we had learned in Girl Scouts. My father, ever the gentleman, pulled the chair out for us.

He would carve turkey at the table with a monogramed sterling silver knife and fork which matched ours. Who wants the drumstick? Would you like dark or light meat? Dark please. Say when.

One of us would sing-song grace:

God is great, and He is good,
and we thank Him for this food.

So we made good memories. We put our napkins in our laps, tried not to talk with food in our mouth, and passed to the left and with pleases and thank you's.

Daddy and my brother would watch football. We girls took turns using the dish master, a hose with a brush that sprayed water and held soap in it. When you wanted soap you pushed the button. This was a modern invention during the days before dishwashers.

I cannot remember what happened after the feast and clean up.

first UN free write

title: Nov. 17, 2008, Sunday evening


I copied the hymn during the offering because of the verse about art not being only for decorating Christian brochures. I let myself be trapped by that idea for years.

God, All Nature Sings Thy Glory (verses 1 and 2)

God, all nature sings thy glory, and thy works proclaim thy might;
ordered vastness in the heavens, ordered course of day and night;
beauty in the changing seasons, beauty in the storming sea;
all the changing moods of nature praise the changeless Trinity,

Clearer still we see thy hand in man who thou hast made for thee;
ruler of creation's glory, image of thy majesty.
Music, art, the fruitful garden, all the labor of his days,
are the calling of his Maker, to the harvest feast of praise.

Written by David Clowney in 1960
sung to the tune of "Ode to Joy" by Ludwig Van Beethoven, 1824

It's not such great poetry, but I appreciated the affirmation that God made me an artist on purpose and I am now using this gift from Him.

A Trial

To declutter is a good thing. Now then I have clutter in my Mac. Mac got a boo boo & went off to the Hospital. When he returned what was lost was only a couple months worth of pictures and freewrites. This time I had my external hard drive. Well, that's hugely better than losing a whole year's worth of photos like last time.

That's an interesting place, the Apple store. There are as many geniuses as customers. I ignored all the cool merchandise and went straight to the back. My genius wasn't one and I wouldn't have hung one of those tags around his neck just yet. But he tried and I appreciate their high customer service standards.

So, the "free write" clutter in my computer.

There is a vague notion that someday I will glean something worth publishing, maybe someone will be encouraged by it.

But if the writer is bogged down and isolated, it isn't going to happen.

All those files become heavy and worrisome in the mind. I don't want to go back there and read all that stuff. It's overwhelming.

Discouragement grows.

In the past writing has made you clarify things for yourself, and some of your writing people have enjoyed and been blessed by or at least your words were curious to a friend who enjoys poking around in another person's thoughts.

But freewrite stagnating in the laptop? Hmmm, not good.

So, try this instead: free write directly into your blog for one month. Yes, you will edit it, making it no longer FREE. If you want people to read your words, try it.

Still There

So - the seas still roar.

The violent reds are still out there backed by wet greens.
Rain still blackens the tree trunks, turning up the color volume.
I am blessed with a bright maple right outside my back door.

So I told my other conservative friend: if our side loses, and it did, the fall colors will still make impact every year and the sand the the waves are not going away.

I went out walking by the waves in hiking boots with an umbrella which I did not use. There was a wind advisory on the bridge. The seas all the way up to the sea walls. I had to wait for the wave to ebb and hurry over to the narrowed beach. My boots got wet over the ankles once or twice.

It is powerful to be by the water when it is calm. How much more so when it is actually frightening. The wind came from behind me so the back left side got wet. Along with crushing waves was light but pelting rain on my hood. I saw one set of dog prints.

The seas were Davy's grey, darkening toward the horizon, and the sky almost the same hue and value with more blue. The breaking waves had some olive yellow in them.

I tried to use the umbrella after turning into the wind, but it was not worth the effort. How did the sailors in old ships hold the sails? I mean I only had an umbrella! Thus the mind of men who engineered ships and sails, created by the mind of God.

I studied the colors for a sketch from memory later in the studio. I should have studied more, I didn't remember what went into the middle foreground where the waves were all churned up.

We sang the Navy hymn in church last week "for those imperiled on the sea". But there were different words.

I would not want to be out there in a storm.

The ships out on the horizon, normally stretched out lengthwise, were facing land. Are they anchored, turned by the wind or are they controlled by people?

I am glad for the fact that we have elected a man with African roots for President.
I am not glad he is liberal.
We shall see how he leads.

My Girl

On Sunday I had to kill my dog, no, you must not say it so harshly. Put her to sleep, euthanize, put her down. It was so very hard. The pain is deep in my chest. It erupts regularly in tears. Poor animal just does what God designed it to do, and because it bites to protect itself when it is afraid, it cannot abide with humans any longer.
Such a companion. Such a gift God made, dogs. There will be no one to wag her tail when I come home from The Great Northwest. I wish it did not have to be. Now then, if I let her live out her years, she might get sick and be in pain and not be able to tell me she is suffering. So she went out quickly and painlessly, I think. But God, it was so hard. It just feels so wrong, because I loved her like a family member and you don't kill family members, do you? Of course not. We all understand: she cannot be trusted around children (or anyone without monitoring her) and now there are 3 grandbabies. So the decision.
I see a squirrel outside and I think of her.
I hear the neighbor's dog bark and I remember.
I see a dark blanket out of the corner of my eye and I think it is she.
I drew a picture of her from memory because I could remember every curve of her body from stroking her so many times.
I wanted the vet to do me next.
I told her not to bite anyone in doggie heaven.
It makes me never want to get another dog.
Guilty of caring too much about a stupid animal.
I will get another dog but I will be very sure it is not reactive, but calm and sociable.
Right now I think I wouldn't mind if I just died.

Layla

Born 8.18.08, now 6 days old. seven pounds, 3.7 ounces. 20 inches.
Not much crying but lots of sleeping. The second night, when the mom was exhausted, the friends visited all day and kept her up, the night nurses didn't say much, and she cried because try as she might, the baby did not know how to latch on. I hugged her and tried not to give her too many words...let her cry. She is frustrated watching her baby struggle and I am frustrated watching my baby struggle. I and all the nurses and other mothers told her already it will get better. But it is dark and it is so frightening.

After that she began to be able to nurse. The lactation nurse came in like an angel just as she was getting it. Many positive words and hands on teaching of positions to try and so on.

At home more visitors. Rest. Photos. Letting her lie on my chest while we sleep.

It is Sunday and I did not make it to church. I read to her from the Bible and sang her some songs about God. She rolled her eyes.

How To Ride a Train

This summer I took Amtrak to my class in Maine. From there I went to North Dakota to visit my father and sister. My father grew up in ND, so now that he is 96, has dementia and my mom is dead, we take him up to ND every summer where he is peaceful and feels at home.

Amtrak DO'S

Do buy all your tickets ahead of time
Do check the discounts, such as the 30 day rail pass.
Do check your itinerary and tickets so that no legs of your journey are omitted.
Do travel light.
Do check your large bags.
Do take layers or blankets or both to stay warm, especially at night. Consider bringing your own pillow and eye shades.
Do visit the lounge car, especially if there is a National Park Service person on board giving details about things you see rolling by.
Do converse with people you meet.
Do take your time in the bathroom and be careful...it takes practice and patience to stay clean on the train.
Do try their Green Mountain coffee unless you only like the dark roast kind.
Do have wheels on your luggage.
Do paint in the lounge car if you paint.
Do remember your camera.
Do bring your toothbrush on board.
Do help someone with luggage.
Do use your laptop if you are going up and down the East Coast. They have internet en route and plugs by each seat.
Do walk around and check out the whole train.
Do try to schedule overnights where you can see your friends or relatives.
Do get some work done while you are NOT DRIVING.
Do expect more room than on an airplane.
Do expect to be rocked constantly.
Do acquaint yourself with all the different stations. They are not as clearly marked as airports.
Do bring your paper tickets. An itinerary is not enough to ride.
Do read the details at Amtrak.com
If you have the money, try a sleeper car.


Amtrak's DONT'S

Don't count on being on time.
Don't be afraid of the others on the train.
Don't plan on changing your tickets at just any old station: you can only change them if there is an agent there.
Don't take stuff to read if you won't read it.
Don't stress; The conductors, the attendants and other riders will answer your questions.
Don't worry; someone will help you with your luggage if you need it.
Don't travel in peak season if you have the choice unless you like full trains.
Don't count on internet on board unless you are going up and down the East Coast. Maybe later.
Don't count on a plug to fire up your laptop or cell phone.
Don't take night trains in coach cars if you want a good night's sleep.

Self Talk about Settling In

There are an infinite number of ways to arrange furniture in your place, no matter how little stuff you think you have. Such options provide an infinite number of distractions for your mind-- good options, too, for which you can thank God. And you must take yourself by the hand and lead yourself away from going over each and every option perfectly, dragging the decision out.....hoping for the perfect arrangement of your things... You have spent enough time doing that in your life. Put it somewhere and USE it, function, work, eat, sleep, go out, come back in, let the house serve you, not the other way around.

Be ruthless with the paper. Shred it or make a box for a bonfire on your son's deck with his new fire pit.

Good. All good. Good problems to have. A house. Now go paint, Pollock!

sweetness

Grandbaby 2, born April 5, 2008, a girl, to my second child, a son and his dear wife.

CORE

CORE

OK, yesterday I was thinking about Rick and the body of Christ and what came to my mind was that if I had to put him as a specific body part, I’d say core.

As children, we were told "lift with your legs." In tennis I learned "use my legs." As an adult I learned that using your legs and proper posture prevents back injuries.

I learned the reverse when my daughter and I carried Margaret’s sewing machine cabinet out of her house, with the old sewing machine in it. She is on the down end and I am at the top of the 2 steps leaning forward and trying to step down....there is no place to bend my knees to center myself under the weight, but I don't think about that because we are already moving. BOING. there goes that sprongy electric shock feeling in the lower back. Uh oh.. Ow ow ow. I try to continue but..... I can’t remember..... did Margaret's daughter carry it the rest of the way? The next few days I was immobile, getting in and out of bed to inch my way into the bathroom ever so slowly and with every attempt to roll over in bed, a reminder from the back NO! Not like that! Pain, that is.

So hopefully I learned. Experience is a better teacher than words.

But CORE. That word became popular when Pilates became the new exercise craze. My daughter-in-law liked her Pilates class. I tried it once or twice and liked it OK, though I preferred the dancing around aerobic tapes. Anyway the teacher kept talking about the core. As in: strengthen this first and foremost. OK so the legs are not your center physically, your abs are. hmmmm

Now then, Rick. No flashy charismatic gifts. Not a great speaker, not a GQ type, not a life of the party, not a brilliant mind. He thought he didn’t have any significant gifts, that he wasn’t really good - better than those around him - in any one thing. He felt less important because he lacked expertise in one area where he could shine above others. Don't most of us want to excel at something?

I would say to him, you have the gift of personal evangelism. You have a gift a lot of Christians would like to have; you present the gospel to people and they come to faith. I don’t know how he felt about my words, but It did NOT make him go: "yeah, you’re right, dear wife, now I feel on top of the world, Praise the Lord."

He was not a hand with intricate ability, nor an eye, to see what other people didn't see. He wasn’t a brain to think up stuff. But he was strong, both physically and mentally, tenacious and faithful to God.

So I see him as a core, or part of Christ's core perhaps a fiber in the big abdomen muscle, or a cell in the fiber.... No one focuses the core when they greet a person. Maybe they felt the heaviness of the approaching footsteps. They look at the eyes, the face, maybe glance at the whole body. They hear the voice and smell breath or soap or perfume. They feel a handshake or a hug, or kiss the cheeks. But they don’t NOTICE the core.

Yet what if it weren’t there? There would be no person. No core, no body.

Rick was solid, plodding, steady. "Faithful," I said and that is the word that best describes him. It is on his grave marker. Faithful to the Lord Jesus Christ.

His place in the body of Christ was not highly visible, but it is absolutely a must have. God could see this when he gave gifts to the body of Christ, He chose to put Rick and his ilk in as core. He did not want the body to fall apart. You don't build a human from the skin in.

Now when I go to X-biking class and we are in sustain mode, I will work my handlebars to the right and left while trying to keep my core centered. I can line up the center of the bike and I try to keep my eyes precisely above that while pushing the bars to one side. It is not easy as you want to lean with your head and body in the direction your hands go. It requires a lot of my core when I do this. I feel it later in the day.

Someone had to hang on to the essence of Christ when others around him were running off to other gospels, New Age, Prosperity, etc. He kept reading and studying the Bible, kept telling people about Christ and kept seeing results.

It's curious to me that I remember one of the strongest images in my mind immediately after Rick died was that there had been an explosion and there was a giant hole from my chest down to my legs. it was as if I could have looked down at myself and there was no middle, just a hole you could see right through, empty, air. Nothing. That's where a core is, right in the center.

I could also see him as feet. How beautiful are the feet of the one who brings good news. Maybe a later post.

to Wait

It is ironic. I am the only one of the 5 of us who got any sleep last night and I am the one at home caring for the dogs, and I could rest if I needed to, which I don't.
The daughter-in-love is in labor, her waters broke this morning at 1:30. My son called to tell me and I tossed and turned for a while but did go back to sleep. Her parents got into their car and drove all night. So none of them have slept, but since I am the designated dog-sitter, I came back home from the hospital when I saw that she was dilating slowly. I thought: if I stay and wait, just about the time things start crackin', I'll have to go home to care for the dogs. I want to go and force those in attendance to rest, but I know they won't. And I want to massage my DIL's back and make her sleep but I don't know if she can sleep. Mostly I can only commit her to God.
I know they are all exhausted and I would gladly keep vigil and let them take turns napping, but none of them will, so this is how it is.
A tiny one will soon appear. I hope it will be before midnight, on the same day the little birds hatched on my front door wreath. Little pink fingertips that look kind of like caterpillars with partial fur. Craning veiny necks..."where's mommy?"
I should paint. I should write. I should call people. I should finish my taxes. I should clean house.....I should house hunt. I guess I don't know what to do with myself.

Late

I forgot to write.
It's late Saturday night and I'm going to bed.
Painting has kept me busy enough not to write. I want to do both, but I need to paint now.
House on the beach. One hyperventilates thinking one may be able to buy it. Savings look good, but one is not a math person, nor is she a financial planner, or even good at budgeting. So it looks like the offer on the house will have to be pulled even though Bank of America pre-qualified me in about 2 mintues on line. I don't have enough money.
The thing is I truly don't want the place unless it is right and good for me and everyone I know and unless it is God's idea.
So I pursued it but now it looks like too much risk. Sink all your money into it and then eat beans and rice and walk to work (you had to sell your car....)
Anyway, it was a sobering day, not only because I withdrew my offer for the house, but because I realized I'm using up my savings too fast and not building my business fast enough.
So I should run and hide and be depressed about it and go to sleep and give up and go on thinking I'm just a dumb girl.
NO!
God gave me a new name:
confidence, faithfulness, overcoming one. those things in that little chorus I love.
Some recent paintings above.

Nanny Annie

What a huge blessing in such a tiny package.
born Dec. 15, 2007
to my eldest daughter.
rejoicing, enjoying, helping out, cuddling, cooking, burping, changing and all that.
by the way, it's a boy.

No Cussing

Now it is my turn. I went to help care for my dad who is now 95. We have caregivers 24/7 but the burden is still on my sister, who lives there, ultimately for all big and small decisions. Four years ago when my dad had a stroke and mom was dying, we had brought him home from a rehab center and hired full time nurses. Over the next year he healed from his stroke, but his dementia remains. One thing he has not lost is his sense of humor.
I do not know how this would come across to someone who does not know my dad, but he is full of corny jokes and puns. Clever things, sometimes, like:
PROCRASTINATE NOW!
So I went down in Novemeber to help my sister care for him and I took one turn as the night nurse. I said to him: "Now, Daddy, I'm going to be in this bed right over here. If you need anything, just holler. But no cussing; I don't answer to cussing." And what did he say in response? He said, "OK, no damn cussing."

Abstract

Good things. Immersion. I painted with about 15 others all day, went home exhausted at 4, slept, woke up and painted for a couple more hours.
This class was for acrylics, but she said you can use watercolors. The technique: lay down a slick medium first so that whatever you paint on from that point on is quite removable. It does not work with watercolor, because watercolor does not dry permanent like acrylic. If you go to add more color on top of yesterday's paint, yesterday's paint dissolves and mixes into the new pigment.

So let's see what happens. It was all experimental for me anyway and the first time learning abstract on purpose. I am not planning to paint using these techniques at this time, but I wanted to learn about design and whatever else might be helpful.

I looked at Carole Barnes' website and saw strong design. I asked David Dewey if he knew of her and he didn't but he said go ahead.

I think everyone enjoyed it. First day our instructions seemed to be to play in the paint. In and out the side door went the paintings, out to dry and back in to layer up again.

Carole is a good communicator and had lots of quotes, books to recommend, pictures to show. She kept moving, no lulls.

The process: play with the paint, put down the first washes of color. Let it dry. While that's drying start another. Begin to add more, lift off. Lifting methods included scraping, wiping, stamping, brayering, scratching, rolling a toilet paper roll over it. Basically adding texture of any sort.

The idea then is to add design elements to it all. I think I stayed in chaos and just kept playing in the paint in some of my pieces. She works on several at a time. Not my goal, but it is what I do at home, too.

But at least you have something to do while the paint is drying.

One of the nice women announced that there was a daddy long-legs in the bathroom and that she had named it Charlotte. I wonder if she would think less of me because I sent Charlotte for a drowning lesson - after she was already squished. Am I bad for not letting all God's creatures cohabit my space? I didn't tell her. The little brat in me wanted to tell her just to see if she'd report me to PETA.

Lots of red-rusty-orangy brown came out in my paintings. I put cerulean next to it with Verditer blue in it. Yum. I covered up the bright yellow and opera pink she started with. Nor did I favor any Thule blue. I kept trying to do what she was doing as much as I could without acrylics but it finally hit me it wouldn't work the same way, just do something in the abstract realm. When you put transparent watercolor onto the sealed surface, it beads up and won't stick.

What happened on several paintings was that I would see a form and get an idea and follow up on it. Then I would build the image around that idea.

Example, at one point when I was lifting color in swirls off my page, it looked like a fetus, so the painting ended up being of my pregnant daughter. I found it emotional to work on. I painted out the alarming red background and put in a soft blue cocoon around her to protect her and cushion her from harm. I felt like crying at times...the joyful excitement of her becoming a mom, and the knowledge that she will have pain, not just in delivery but in raising this child. I wish I could shelter her from the pain.

Another one, again begun the way Carole showed us on the first day with bright yellow and pink. I added in shapes around the edges and at one point it reminded me of my walks with the dog out in my old neighborhood, through the very dark woods and out under the power lines. Early after my husband's death, I would often come around a corner and be hit by a big yellowy glowing sunset and it would make me gasp, because it reminded me of what I saw when he died. I would immediately start to cry. In those days I used to always cry, yellow sky or not, when I got to the path where there were no neighbors to see me.

So hmmmm, that painting became the point at which we'd walk out of the woods into the open area and in this painting there is a beautiful yellow sunset. What surprised me is that it is emotional to paint such things.

I will to go back to painting the way I have been, recognisable, but with economy, trying for beautiful color harmony and learning to design the space on the page.
But this experience will affect my work. Possibly the most valuable part is being with other artists.

The second painting posted is IKEA on a Saturday...don't go there unless you love mobs and chaos. What a fun place. I miss it. I laughed a lot working on that one.

Don't Know Nothin'

Lake Wobegone ND

My sister, father, cousin, nephew, nephew's girlfriend, nurse and nurse's son were all there when I arrived. We had the run of the Inn right downtown, Victorian charm.

We were on the third floor and took our suitcases up the outdoor steps in back because it would have been pretty hard to get them up the circular stairwaay inside, probably 18-20 inches wide, hardly room to put a foot onto it.

So Father's Day weekend was supposed to be Rally in the Valley. There were pictures on the front page of the paper and captions, but no schedule of events or where or what about anything. don't know nothin.

Apparently they had been trying to find out where things were happening since they got there a few days ago, but no one seemed to know. After a while they suspected that it's a insider event and that we from outside were not wanted there. very strange.

I came on Saturday evening and had been up at 3am and 4am the past 2 nights, so I fell asleep with my clothes on up on my bed....I heard the fireworks but was too tired to go watch. I think they viewed them from the landing at the top of the outside stairs. After that there was apparently a thunderstorm. I heard some noise but I was too tired to care.

We took Daddy to the house he grew up in. He gets energy when he is here. He walks and does not faint. If the nurse says, are you tired, do you want to rest, he says no are YOU tired? She took him to the park and was a LONG way from the Inn and said we can take a taxi for $3.00. He said no, we can walk a little and rest a little, walk a little, rest a little. At home it's once around the circle and he's done, bored.

So Valley City. I woke up early and searched everywhere for my coffee and tried hard not to wake my dorm-mates (5 of us in the upper room sleeping) but I had to unzip my suitcase in more than one place. It was scissors I was looking for and finally went all the way down to the kitchen and found a plastic knife and took it upstairs only to learn I could pull the coffee open with my fingers. No one else got up except nurse for 2 hours. I read my Bible and prayed and then walked around the neighborhood. Such a tiny town, NO CARS; I could have walked down the middle of the streets and not bothered anyone. Many charming old houses, my favorite was painted light blue-green.

Long about 11am it dawned on me that it was Sunday, and I wished I had gone to church. I saw people coming out and even if there were a later service I would have wanted to have gone home to change clothes.

I have never lived in a small town really.

Nurses son attracted the popular girls in the front yard of the boy who apparently was not friendly with these girls. So they are hanging around flirting with him and the dad comes out drunk and yells at them to get out and throws a rock at nurse's son. We think we'll be front page news tomorrow on the police blotter, since that surely tops "snapping turtle reported in middle of highway; officer removes it."
Poor kid ... the police came by to interview him. Apparently he was here last year with my dad and his mom the nurse and made friends with the kids here and had been emailing with one of the girls. Interesting.

Well, we didn't see ourselves in the Dont Know Nothin Journal but neither was the police report in it, so maybe they only do it once a week.

There was a house a couple blocks over for sale by owner dirt cheap so we looked at it. Sister and nurse were ready to sign but all I could see was that every surface needed replacing and it was ugly and not that big. price was too good to be true. The idea of having Daddy up there every summer, though, now that's a good one...get him away from the monotany of home. His wife and all his siblings are dead and only his kids remain. I told sister I could never get my older kids to spend their precious little vacation time in North Dakota! No mountains.

So Binford, tall graineries, and cement factories, a ball park? No, a bull riding ring. Small houses and a neighborhood around Daddy's house. Oh, he says, Uncle......long pause.....I can't remember his name, lived in that house. The owner is there and lets us look inside. The kitchen cupboards made by my Farfar (father's father in Swedish) are still funcioning like new, precise fit and original hardware still working. Two other built in cabinets in the living room made my him.
'
Daddy cries a little and says this is the best part of the trip. We drive up and down many of the streets in the neighborhood; I stick my camera out the window and snap more charming pictures.

Apple Boats

Now really, is it that hard to slice up an apple? Yesterday I made my way as fast as possible through Costco's refrigerator room. Grabbed some carrots. The weeds did not look fresh enough. Weeds are my daughters' name for Spring Mix Salad Greens.

So now they have a package of apple boats, apples that are already cored and cut into slices. Well, I never! (As Mom would say) I was almost tempted to buy them. 8 packets all ready to stick in your lunch and go. Then I thought, how brown and mushy will they be by the time I eat them all?

My husband liked apple boats. I learned early on in our marriage that he was used to having his apples cut up for him. Personally I eat my apples with my teeth and throw the core out when I'm done. Don't you? So I remember the tiniest glimmer of annoyance upon learning that he wanted me to cut up his apples for him. And that man loved his fruit.

I'm wondering if it had anything to do with his mustache. But I think it had to do more with the way his sweet mom served him apples. He liked his orange slices with the points left on so he could pull the flesh away from the peel and somehow it kept the juice away out of his mustache. How would I have known? Do I have a mustache?

It is another little ripple in the ever widening circle which started when his death made a big splash in my lake. Huge boulder crashes into the water. Giant cannon ball splash and big rocking waves. Years later the rings are almost inperceptible but they are there and I suppose they always will be. It made tender thoughts come up, that ripple.

Finishing Ship 2

For lack of a better name. After my first painting en pleine aire in Maine, I took many photos of the scene, different angles, different compositions. So I did a 16 by 24 version on drawing paper in about an hour. The French Ultramarine was too bright and thick and the shadows in the water were not correct, but when I stood back across the room, the painting had a powerful impact. The water moved, the values were there, you could move into the space with your eye. I had turned the photo and the painting up side down to paint the water and the reflections in it....to discourage getting fussy about accuracy.

so that spurred me to get a piece of good paper, 300 pound Arches cold press. I lay in the water and the basic shape of the ship and its baby boats hitched to its side. Learning: the key to my loose style is using brushes that are bigger than you think you ought to be using. don't downshift to smaller brushes until you must. To release excess pigment, touch the sponge or the paper towel.

I did a lot more lifting and changing of colors than I wanted to, to the point of losing the sizing, which takes away the ability to get that nice crisp edge. But I will learn from practice how much value to lay in the first time so that I won't have to lift and repaint. Now to finish: move the black water shadow over to match the ship so that it doesn't shout DRAWING ERROR. Even if you lift it again, there is such darkness in this part of the page that I don't think it will make a difference.

Questions that come up while painting. What does he mean about keeping the colors balanced the whole time in the painting? How do you do that? How does he know WHERE to put that touch of color. And how do I place the colors on the plane so that they lead the eye intentionally around the picture. I know there are answers to this question.

Where to sign? Finish the shadow around the pontoon, and define the motor on it just a bit more. Frame it and bring it to the Gallery next week.

How to Finish a Painting

On February 1, 2007, Kathy's House was pronounced done. Left on the table, I would go downstairs daily making changes, adding colors, lifting shadows, reworking. People think you can't change watercolor once it's on the paper. That is only partly true. This painting is worked to death. I didn't like it much and midway, I wanted to put it in a drawer and forget about it. But I chose to finish it on principle. I do not feel confident in what it means to finish a painting. I want to learn, so I made a commitment and continued. I did like it better as I worked on it, but the style I want is fresh and simple. I want to put down the layers the first time and be done with only minor corrections. This work is nothing but one big correction!
It was hard to leave it alone once declared done. I removed the tape. Note: do not use that kind of tape, it leaves a layer of glue and is very hard to remove. I think I like the edge to be drawn, not made with tape.
Having declared it finished I am glad the burden is off my back. I think Kathy will like it and I hope her sons will as well. I'm wondering if John Q. Public would be drawn to it at all.
The main thing I know from doing this work is that I will not choose this type of project if I want to use my gift and get the best to come out of me.

MAC Attack

As in new computer. Yes. Oh, yes!!

Weeks ago I contacted my patient nephew, who helps people with their computer problems for a living. He was kind enough to spend at least an hour on the phone with me trying to get my Y2K Gateway to boot Windows. .....Maybe the hard drive is on its last legs. OK, I told him, I have already decided that even if I can get this computer fixed, it is probably time to buy a new one and I'm thinking I probably want a laptop. So I said fast, reliable, easy. He said MAC.

Here we are, day one, fingers flying. I apologized to the Lord for getting so cranked about a material thing. Then I say no, I don't think I mean to apologize, no, just thank You, Lord.

I took pictures of the parts out of the box on my clear desk. I think the net thing is to load up my digital camera software.

So check in soon.

state park swamp

 

Looking for the Beach

Trying to find a new beach on which to walk with the dog, the state park entrance appeared, so we turned in. Trails. A nice couple told me the less traveled one was 3.1 miles, perfect. On the pine straw path I don't think I could really hear my hiking boots hitting the ground. It was hard to tell if I could hear my footsteps or whether I was just feeling the vibration in my body. I wondered if that is perhaps like being deaf, but still having a sense that is close to hearing..... I could hear the leather creaking a little when the wind was still.

The park rangers cut pieces out of fallen trees and put them aside in order to keep the path clear. Hey, if a tree falls in the forest, and there is no one walking there, is it blocking the path?

I talk to myself sometimes, but I forced myself to shut up. A quiet place is an especially good place to listen. My present worries calmed considerably as the walk continued.

A boardwalk traversed the mucky places, slippery with algae. The cypress trees come up out of the swamp on either side and the surface of the water reminds me of oil on puddles, all colorful. Made of kooties, I think, but kind of pretty.....and kind of spooky looking, all orangey, pinky, purple and bluegreen all blending into one another. Spanish moss was dangling off the trees. Then there were little trees trying to sprout up that reminded me of crocuses coming up in spring, only bigger. This secret forest hides right near the ocean. The path was narrow but we only passed about 7 other folk and went home duly exercised and thirsty.

mystery house with red lantern

 

the red lantern and sign are cut outs I've been messing with, trying to decide where to add red in the shadow...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

David Critiquing

Mostly finished painting of David critiquing our art.

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!