Rain, rain, rain

The weather forecast calls for a solid week of rain which started yesterday. They mean business! As the clouds were just beginning to roll in, I thought that the wicked weather would be the most fabulous argument for spending guilt-free time in the studio. Before my excuse arrived full force, I put on a tank top (it was actually pretty cold - what was I thinking?) and zipped outside to plant the herbs I bought weeks ago that have been clinging to life in my kitchen. I dug, planted, looked up at the clouds, and realized I wouldn't see the sun for a while. I love the rain, so this is OK with me. But I figured I'd enjoy some outdoor time as long as Mother Nature permitted.

As the wind picked up, I grabbed my kitchen herb scissors and started trimming the out-of-control tomato plant that is still producing in January, along with the overgrown and sprawling Heliotrope plant. These plants, along with a couple of irises, are all in the same planting well, more evidence that I have absolutely no business in a garden. I chuckled to myself, knowing full well that I'll never be compared to Martha Stewart. Stopping every few minutes to watch the clouds roll in, it occurred to me that very few adults do the same. I love going in the back yard and sitting as quietly as I can, trying to pick out all of the wild bird songs. I love watching the hawk sail overhead, hunting and calling out (which I always thought of as being a bad hunting technique). Sometimes I can catch sight of a pair of squirrels chasing each other around the avacado tree, one appearing to be much more in a playing mood than the other that turns as scolds the "chaser" every few rounds. I see the lizards on the wall doing push ups, and watch the bees zoom from little flower to flower, trying not to do my usual flight with my arms flapping and yelling, "buzzer!" I love this quiet time and feel that everyone would do well to enjoy the little stuff that goes on whether or not we're paying attention.

Now I'm geared up to get to work and enjoy indoors. While the rain taps on the window, I will enjoy sitting in the studio with music playing or a fabulous old movie (maybe "A Date with Judy" starring a very young Elizabeth Taylor), brainstorming for my current art project. I'll take breaks to help my son study for finals this week, and enjoy the fact that life is really, really good right now.

Happy New Year!

Time for resolutions! I'm very excited because I actually have new goals for the new year with respect to my art. I want to have a few pieces together by March 1st and will set up a schedule for studio time. I will set up shop at Etsy when I have four pieces complete (unless they have rules that I must have more). I have a goal of participating in at least one publication's call for a swap. I noticed that Cloth Paper Scissors has a call for inspirational/motivational postcards. The entry fee is only $5, and they will publish images of some of the pieces. I figure it's worth a try. The call isn't terrifically inspirational in the sense that it's all about creating a postcard, but I really want to try to push myself to try new things and get myself outside the comfort of the walls of the house. This could be fun! If nothing else, the theme of something inspirational (in the sense of being inspired to be creative) can help me kick my own behind and be self motivating. This is a good thing.

Being noticed

My husband called from his office yesterday to let me know that another administrator at the university saw my work in his office and got all excited about it, asking where he got it. He told her that he bought it at a charity auction, but that he knew the artist if she was interested. She was very surprised to learn that it was my work, and indicated she wanted to get in touch with me to see what I had for sale. What a wonderful boost to my confidence to receive an email from he asking if I had a web site that she could peruse in her efforts to find a birthday gift for her husband. Wow! I've got some real motivation to get busy.

I wish there were an easy fix to fear of exposure and failure. Growing up being pounded by criticism and insults hasn't helped me. I wonder how long it takes to get past the memories of that and able to focus more on the present.

To put a little more pressure on myself, I'm going to figure out how long it will take me to produce six pieces and then set up an Etsy market page. If I have a deadline, I'll be more likely to make real progress.

I'm finally excited about it. I'm starting to feel like an artist instead of just saying that I am.

Critical Eyes

I was poking around on Etsy today, thinking about when I'm going to get more work done in the studio and when I'm going to get up the nerve to post art for sale. I saw a feature (new, or I just never noticed it before) that allows the visitor to select a few sites to look at that are waiting for their first sale. I'm wicked, evil and mean, but I have to say it. Some of it was just terribly unappealing! I mean it was so unappealing and simple that I thought surely it was a cute little kid who'd been encouraged by their mother to try to sell their work, inspiring me to look at the cutie's blog. Wrong.

The blog is written by someone who just really likes making art. Good for her. She is quite prolific in her production, which is more than I can say for myself. Once again, I am reminded that art is not a competitive sport. There is joy in the making which lives in a whole separate world away from art being made to please someone else's eyes. So I am ashamed of myself for being critical, worried again (because that's what I do so well!) that others will think the same of my work, yet inspired to kick myself in the fanny and get moving.

Today I am going to commit to some studio time. I'm not sure what I'll do yet, but I will get paint on my hands. Maybe it's time to pull out one of my millions of books intended as instruction in technique and inspiration and just DO something. In the past I have committed myself to posting a photo at the end of the day to put pressure on myself to get something done. That's a habit I should keep up. We'll see what I can accomplish.

Appreciating life today...

My dearest friend works for the Boys and Girls Club here in town. She asked me to volunteer as a chaperone for a holiday shopping spree for their neediest kids. I have to admit that while I agreed immediately, I kept wishing that I could just sleep in today and write them a check. But I promised, and so I went.

I got up while it was still dark, slugged down a half cup of espresso and dragged my sorry behind to the club. I waited in the gymnasium with 100 people I didn't know and listened to the "rules" for helping the kids shop with their $75 gift cards at Old Navy and for their pair of shoes ($25 max value) at Payless; we had to pay attention to the notes that the parents offered for what the kids really needed, no toys, etc. A line of children were walked out to meet one-on-one with the adults in line, and I was introduced to Johnny. He was a really polite boy of 11, in 6th grade at the middle school in the worst part of town. He was very friendly and shared easily as I asked him all about his favorite subject at school (film production!), his family and his favorite video games. When talking about Christmas plans, he told me that his parents used to have a lot of really bad fights and so his father moved out and got an apartment, and how his parents got along much better after that. Then his father got sick and was on dialysis, had a seizure followed by a heart attack and died a few months ago. This will be his first Christmas without his father. He told me that his grandmother was getting moving into their apartment this weekend because she and her husband (not "grandfather") also have a lot of really bad fights, so Grandma is going to live with them until she finds her own apartment. He wasn't bitter and didn't sound angry, but sadly matter-of-fact about the whole thing. It was all so sad.

Johnny was really fun to shop with and seemed to be very excited to get so much clothing and a cool, complete outfit. We had a lot of laughs while we shopped and chatted about everything and anything while we waited in the loooong checkout line with all of the other kids from the Club. When I asked him what big plans he had for the rest of the weekend, he told me that today was they day they went to the laundromat, and tomorrow he'd go with his aunt to 7-Eleven, get a Big Gulp to share out in the parking lot, and get a refill for 75 cents. On the bus as we headed back to the Club, Johnny looked at me and told me that he had a lot of fun this morning and thanked me for helping him shop. I gave him a big hug and told him that I'd see what we could do to get paired up again next year.

I grew up really poor and get it. This boy lives just a short distance from a bad apartment building that I lived in during high school. I really get it. I'm seeing signs that my son gets it - he wanted to buy Christmas gifts for all of his friends that he knows have struggling families and understands that they can't afford to reciprocate. Tonight, I'm distracted by the number of people that I know or see that are struggling and wish I could do more. My husband teases that if I ever win the lottery (not that I play), he knows I'd give most of it away.

So once again, I am reminded to count my blessings. I appreciate my good marriage, my great kids, having a comfortable roof over my head, not having to worry about buying food or paying for heat and having wonderful friends and family.

Good News, Bad News

It's been a roller coaster week. After many, many trips to the vet we have received the worst diagnosis possible for our wonderful 10 year old Fred. Cancer. He's losing weight like crazy, down to about 9 lbs or less from his starting point of 16 (he's a Maine Coon and they are big, muscular kitties) and still losing. At this point, there is nothing we can do but give him a lot of love and attention, making him as comfortable as possible and hopefully having him through the holidays. He's the greatest kitty and we are having a hard time imagining our family without him.

In the midst of all the vet visits, we are busy getting ready for the holidays. We are happy that Erica is able to swap hours with someone at her two jobs so she can come home for Thanksgiving. It won't be much time - she'll arrive at about midnight on Wednesday and have to head back after dinner on Thursday - but we will take what we can get and be happy that we'll have some fun time together. We'll have enough time to play some wild rounds of Tripoly or Uno Attack with the holiday music blaring.

Kevin's high school band program has kept us hopping and, happily, their efforts have paid off for them in a big way. This last Saturday they competed at the State level against 32 other high schools. They took 2nd place in their division (seven schools), but took the High Music Award for the entire event. Woohoo!!!!! I think it teaches the kids how much they can accomplish as a team and with practice. They are back at it today (on a school holiday) as they prepare for another field show competition in two weeks.

This all has me thinking about how much my parents missed. I remember Christmas as a child. We hung stockings one year. One. Mom suggested we wedge the edge of one of our knee-high socks in the top drawer of the buffet in the dining room. It was all very unceremonious. I recall there were a few goodies in it (I still remember the plastic flute and the Fred Flintsone toy where I pushed up on the bottom of it and he flopped around with his elasticized limbs), but she didn't think it was worth the effort to continue the practice. We never had Christmas stockings again.

As a family, we watch "A Christmas Story" every year while we decorate our tree. I think about the scene where the kids are opening presents and the dad had acquired the beloved BB gun for his son, hidden it away until last, and watched him open the gift and lose his mind from happiness. Hmmm. I wonder what that would have been like? I think about the Christmas programs in which I participated in school, including a solo in 8th grade, none of which were attended by my parents. I remember my best friend Michelle sharing her dad with me at the Father Daughter Girl Scout banquet, and how I felt so embarrassed that my father was the only one missing. He wasn't there simply because he wasn't interested and didn't care.

I have been to every single one of my children's performances at daycare and school. When I was hired at the hospital, I made sure that they understood that I HAD to be at every school event and would get back to the office as quickly as possible, but it wasn't an option. They were great and always accommodating. I sat through the same Christmas program year after year for my daughter and went because I wanted to be there and loved watching her, not out of a sense of obligation. I have attended every single field show for my son in marching band and he's happy to have me there. That's the best reason. I appreciate my children more, I think, because of how little my parents appreciated me. I watch them and wonder if my parents ever realized how much they missed, how much fun they could have had, or how much their neglect would cause me heartache for my entire life.

In the meantime, I relish the holidays, the fun we have together, and the fact that my children really want to be home with us for the holidays. Even with bad news like Fred's diagnosis, we can focus on the fact that we will be together and make sure that Fred has an extra special Christmas stocking this year.

Games People Play

As a family, we are a little nuts with our passion for playing "Slug Bug." We have learned that, for those who play, there is a wide range of rules and most everyone is pretty firm about their rules being "right." In our home, only the old Volkswagens count. As a former bug owner, I am quite firm in my opinion that the newer bugs have their engines at the wrong end, making them useless and ineligible for points. We call the buses or vans, "super slug bug" (my friend Gail calls them "Grand Daddy" bugs, and I found a web site where someone said they yell, "double slugbug") for which one earns two points; the beetles are worth one. We change the rules sometimes, but only if we agree before the game starts. Having recently discovered "Lost," we now have the "Dharma bug." That's a super slug bug that is the original faded light blue and white two-tone and it's worth three points. If we yell, "Dharma bug!" we get three points, but if we mess up and just yell, "super slugbug," we only get the regular two points. The game runs for only as long as that trip in the car. If we stop the car and get out, the game is over. And we don't hit each other! Family rule!

The thing that's so funny and got me thinking about this is that I can't refrain from playing all by myself in my head when I'm alone in the car. Kevin's friends think it's funny that when I'm playing carpool mom and driving everyone home after school that wanted a ride, I'll interrupt anyone, myself included, to yell, "Slugbug!" if I spot on en route. I absolutely vibrate and hyperventilate when I see one of those old Volkswagen graveyards and have to count on my fingers and I scream out all of my "slugbug" and "superslugbug" calls while the family just howls and laughs at me. Hey, I win! What else matters? :-)

There are some really, truly simple things in life that can't be beat for a good chuckle.