MESS O' MINE

I have gotten myself into a fine mess now. A literal mess. Here in my study. Why is it that in trying to restore some semblance of tidiness to a room, it must first look as though a tornado has had its way with the room? Maybe my A.D.D. tendencies in conjunction with my packrat trait have conspired to drive me into a panic.

 

What began as a simple, "I will rearrange the furniture in this room" has evolved into discovering paintings I have done and shrieking when I see how godawful they are. It was much nicer when they were crammed into portfolios or stashed behind desks (yes, I have two desks in here, as well as a drafting table and chair and an overstuffed chair, and cabinets. ::sigh::)

 

So, with the room torn apart, I stopped to fix one of the paintings that has always bothered me. I knew the distant hills were wrong, wrong, wrong. Watercolors are about the least forgiving medium in which to work, and that added to my frustration. I do think I corrected those hills, though. Now, I look at it and think I should have done the water along the shoreline differently. It should not be in such a straight line. Should it? Yet, the waves are going horizontally, not rushing onto the shore. Still, I am pretty sure there should be some variation in the line. Ugh. I am not sure I can fix that. I will try. (Top painting is the "corrected" one, bottom painting is the former one.)

 

And should I really even be diving into painting when I still have "things" strewn all over the room? Wouldn't it be better to finish putting everything into place first and THEN retrieving old paintings to alter more to my liking?

 

Eh, I have never taken the easy and most frequently traveled path. Looks like I will be painting today. ::smile:: But when I DO get to sorting through these piles of papers and objects, I am going to be ruthless. Sentimentalism is going to be squashed, and I am throwing or giving away a lot. I think. God, I hope.

 

"His study was a total mess, like the results of an explosion in a public library." ~Douglas Adams

Y IS FOR YULE

Summer is beginning to sputter here and brief hours of the cooler fall temperatures to come have actually occurred during a few late evenings. The daytime highs remain in the high 60s and 70s, and yet I find myself just itching to have a fire blazing in the fireplace.

I do not like to wish time away. It passes far too quickly as it is. I can wait for the cold days and nites to have that raging fire going. But, it does not mean that I will not be repeatedly glancing at our fireplace and feeling the excitement of knowing it will be all too soon when it will be glowing and spreading its warmth throughout the family room.

 

Such an odd entry, it may seem. Let's blame it on my husband. Why? Because I don't want it to be my fault. ::grin:: Here's the deal. I was pretty sick for a good week with a fever, double ear infection, and pain that was unbearable at times. After the antibiotics, steroids, and painkillers worked their magic, I was antsy. I am not used to being sick, nor am I used to being unable to run around and do all I want to do. I had much pent-up energy that needed expended. So, I did what I do every year at just about this time. I rearranged my family room furniture. The hubby hates it when I do that. Despises it. Tough. I do it anyway. (This really is leading to YULE!)

 

At first I was chilling while I pushed and pulled the sofa across the room. I knew my fever had kicked up again, but I didn't care. Hubby sat in his recliner watching television. And avoiding eye contact with me. Uh huh. One look over at me struggling with the sofa would have guilted him into feeling obligated to help. I chuckled to myself. I can so read that man like a book.

 

I figured I would mess with his mind just a bit. I knew the following day was to reach temperatures in the nineties. I mentioned to him that I was chilling, and then I said, "Wouldn't it be neat to get a nice fire going in the fireplace tonite?" His voice took on an edgy tone when he responded with, "Well, I'm not going to stay in this room if you start a fire." I began to laugh the maniacal laughter of the feverish. I asked him if maybe he thought I was just yanking his chain seeing as how it was going to be in the friggin' nineties the next day.

 

He never did help me move any of the furniture. And by the time I had dragged the overstuffed chair to its new spot, I began stripping. I had gotten so hot. Even without a fire going. ::grin:: Eye contact was made during the disrobing. Just not eye-to-eye contact. Eye-to-body was what he made. I ignored him knowing it was driving him nuts. Such fun to be a tease with him. He is so easy.

 

Now my family room is beautiful. Everything is immaculate and newly placed. Our blind dog was led through the new arrangement to help her get her bearings, and she is already accustomed to the furniture placement. And I know it will be in the blink of an eye when I will watch the snowflakes dance from the clouds to the ground while I am ensconced on my sofa enjoying the warmth of a fire playing in the fireplace.

 

Did I mention I know exactly where I will be putting our Christmas tree in that room? I do. I made sure I left the perfect spot when I planned the placement of all the furniture. With the removal of a couple pieces of small furniture beside the fireplace, the tree will stand there in all its glory. I also made certain that I will be able to photograph the kids opening their gifts without anything obstructing the view.

 

You see, winter is my favorite season. It invigorates me. Rejuvenates everything in and about me. And Christmas is my favorite holiday. It is all incredibly special, even magical, in countless ways. It is not just the memories I have accumulated that add to its magic; it is also the new memories we are making each year. And the warmth of the yule season extends far beyond that which emanates from the hearth. It reaches far deeper into our hearts and minds. And we are the better for it.

 

"Shall we liken Christmas to the web in a loom? There are many weavers, who work into the pattern the experience of their lives. When one generation goes, another comes to take up the weft where it has been dropped. The pattern changes as the mind changes, yet never begins quite anew. At first, we are not sure that we discern the pattern, but at last we see that, unknown to the weavers themselves, something has taken shape before our eyes, and that they have made something very beautiful, something which compels our understanding." ~Earl W. Count

KEEPING A PROMISE

Quite some time ago, I made a promise to my dear photographer friend. I said I would one day paint a picture using one of the photographs he has taken and sent to me. Truthfully, I kept delaying it, because I was afraid. I feared I would be unable to do justice to any of his photos. He is a wizard with his camera, and that caused further nervousness on my part. Heck, if his photos were ugly, any painting I did from one would not look too bad in comparison.

And so, I painted this, that, and the other from other photographs. Always intending to keep my promise to him...sooner or later. More later than sooner.

 

Well, the promise has been kept. I chose one of his iris photographs to work from. I opted to use pastel paints instead of watercolors. There was some artistic license I exercised, as is my right! But, I hope he is pleased with the result.

 

I must be going through my flower phase. The last bunch of paintings I have done have all had flowers in them.

 

And I breathe a huge sigh of relief knowing I honored my promise.

 

"People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us." ~Iris Murdoch

#@*&($!+% (Repost from my former journal)

Thursday, January 27, 2005
7:17:00 AM EST
Feeling Happy
Hearing Sex and Candy~Marcy Playground

#@*&($!+%

::my entire body shudders violently as my head thrashes back and forth, my fingers entwine in my hair trying to still the movement:: Whew! That was a rough flashback. I have those on occasion. I am always glad when they pass. What is it I am recalling that causes me such anguish? Birth control methods. Yep, birth control.

I naively skipped off to my gynecologist's office to be put on the birth control pill one month prior to my marriage. With my soon-to-be hubby just starting college, we decided we should wait until he had his degree before children were to be considered. No problem. Yeah, right. I took the tiny little pill each day and felt quite comfortable knowing I would not have to worry about any unplanned pregnancies.

Flash forward two months. Picture me with the migraine from hell. Picture me lying on the bed literally trying to hold both sides of my skull together from the axe that was desperately trying to split my head in two. Hey, I was a migraine professional. I was used to them, because I had had them since my teen years. They were no fun, they cramped my style, they hurt, and I did not like them. However, I could suck 'em up with not too much of a disturbance in my routine. EXCEPT FOR THAT DAY. Oh my God. I would have had to rally to die. The pain was the most awful pain I could possibly have imagined. Hubby knew this was not my normal reaction to a migraine. He called my long-time family friend doctor who told him to bring me in immediately. Poor little me was taken into the office to be examined. I do not remember very much of the visit except when he asked me if I was taking any medications. I said, "Nothing except the birth control pill." Uh oh...wrong answer. Doc was not a happy camper hearing that. Apparently migraine sufferers should avoid taking THE PILL. Oops. I didn't know. He said something about the potential for strokes and other equally unpleasant side effects I could have had. He told me never to take it again. Then he whipped out a huge needle you could have basted a turkey with and jammed it into my butt. Hubby's parting instructions were to take me straight home...not to stop anywhere...straight home and get me into bed. Alrighty.

I was feeling pretty darn happy by the time we reached our apartment complex.I had no pain in my head at all. It did not matter to me that my head was the size of a hot air balloon. I floated up the flight of steps to our apartment door only to notice the neighbor just across the hall from us had moved out and left her door open. I just had to sneak a peek in there to see if it looked like our apartment. I made it maybe five feet past the door when I thought I was going to pass out. I grabbed hold of hubby's arm and told him to get me to bed right away. He quickly unlocked our door and led me inside. Oh, figures...I had to tinkle. I went, but I couldn't feel any of my limbs, so I told hubby he had to flush the potty. While he was doing that, I entered the bedroom and sprawled across the bed~shoes and all. I think he undressed me, but I do not really remember. (Wait, he's a man...I was helpless...let's get real, he probably at least copped a feel.) I woke up once long enough to yell out for something I could use to barf in. Hubby appeared with a bowl which I promptly filled. ::laughing at how gross I am:: I never woke up again until the next day. God only knows what was in that shot, but it was strong.

That left the two of us with quite a dilemma. If I couldn't take the pill, then we had to find some other means of contraception. The rhythm method is cute, but it isn't exactly very effective. It was ruled out. I suggested condoms. I was promptly shot down. Okay, okay...I told him I would go to the gynecologist and see what he suggested. I made an appointment and went to his office. I received a stern lecture for not telling him about my migraine history. I pathetically explained I was unaware migraines were considered a health condition. Doc and I discussed various birth control options. The diaphragm was decided to be my best choice. Yay! I had something he felt was effective. He gave me one with the instructions, and I went home all content with my new pregnancy-prevention gadget.

Oh dear Lord. I would have rather had a brood of 12 children than to go through the diaphragm experience again. For those who are not familiar with it, it looks like a big rolled-up condom, except the sides do not unroll. It is a disk with a lip around it. You have to put this messy gel around the lip, then bend the disk in half to put it inside of you. Once inside wherever the hell it goes, it springs open and prevents the sperm from swimming anywhere except into that rubber wall. You have to leave it in place for a set amount of hours after sex, because the fishies lurk just waiting for you to accidentally remove the diaphragm too soon, enabling them to head right for that come-hither egg. This thing was a mess. I despised it. Every single time I used it, I had difficulty. It was next to impossible to hold onto the damn disk when there was all that gooey, slippery gel on the part you HAD to hold onto to bend the dumb thing.

One evening I wanted to have sex, so I slipped off to the bathroom to begin the wrestling match between me and the dreaded diaphragm. I wanted it in place so when hubby was ready for bed, I could surprise him and jump his bones. All pleased with my planning, I began the process of applying the gel to the rim of that contraption. I carefully bent the disk and ::boing:: it sprung out of my fingers and onto the floor. Okay. That happens. I tried a second time and ::boing:: up into the air and down onto the floor. By this time, I was getting pretty agitated. I am not a quitter, and I sure was not going to let some little round rubber thing get the best of me. I applied more gel to the rim (after wiping up all the stupid gel from the floor) and very, very carefully bent the diaphragm in half. Yes, yes...this time it was so very close to my body when ::BOING:: it shot out of my fingers, went flying away from me, and stuck itself to the ceramic tile wall inside the bathtub. I was livid. I peeled it off the wall, and once again made the attempt to insert it. It went in, it went where it was supposed to, but I was in a horribly foul mood. I left the bathroom, and these were the exact words I said to my husband (you can use your imagination to guess the tone in which they were said): "We ARE having sex tonite whether or not you want it, and you WILL enjoy it. I just spent forever trying to put in this stupid diaphragm. I hate this thing." We had sex. I think he was scared not to.

Oh, by the way, we switched to condoms shortly after that nite. ::grin::

Today's quote:

"I rely on my personality for birth control." ~Liz Winston

ENCHANTMENT

"Only those who truly love and who are truly strong can sustain their lives as a dream. You dwell in your own enchantment. Life throws stones at you, but your love and your dream change those stones into the flowers of discovery. Even if you lose, or are defeated by things, your triumph will always be exemplary. And if no one knows it, then there are places that do. People like you enrich the dreams of the worlds, and it is dreams that create history. People like you are unknowing transformers of things, protected by your own fairy tale, by love." ~Ben Okri

Who cannot be enchanted by those magnificent words and the spellbinding painting (which I embellished, perhaps to its detriment, with sparkles and a butterfly to enhance the magic of the scene)? Only those whose hearts and minds are closed or dead. And I feel pity for them.

X IS FOR X

Sometimes, sometimes, when a journaler/blogger is writing an entry that will ruffle some feathers or offend people, the writer takes a moment to say, "This is my journal, and if you don't like what you read here, all you have to do is click on the little X up in the corner."

 

I do not recall ever having said that in my journal. First of all, of course it is my journal. It is why my name is posted on the entry and not someone else's. Second, every dullard in Dullardsville knows what happens when the X in the corner is clicked. I do not feel the need to point it out to them. And third, I think that particular advice is often used an excuse to be rude. Uh huh, I do. If the potential to offend someone is going to be in your entry, then at least have the backbone to say what you want without throwing in an overused and tired line to try to further justify your action. Stand by your words or beliefs, without relying on a worn out cliche to cover your behind ("Well, I said to click on the X."). Or is using it a guarantee that people will read your words? Hmmm?

 

Whatever the case, gotta admit the above graphic is somewhat amusing.

 

By the way, X got screwed over by E when Webster compiled his dictionary. Why doesn't "excellent" start with an X? Or "ecstasy" start with an X? Or "extraordinary" start with an X? E had to go and horn its way into taking over some of the best words, leaving poor X a mere few words. So selfish and thoughtless.

 

"Action, looks, words, steps, form the alphabet by which you may spell character." ~Johann Kaspar Lavater

I'M LOOSE!

Finally, something for me to yahoo about!

Lately, my painting has left me frustrated and doing more than my share of kvetching. Creating anything worth keeping was impossible. (That, in itself, told me I needed a vacation.)

 

Before I left for Chicago, I decided to try an entirely new~to me, anyway~technique. It involves using very watered down watercolor paints on a material called Yupo paper. Yupo is not really paper at all. It is a plastic sheet. It does not warp or buckle, and there is no need to prepare it before applying the paint. At an art show, I had seen a very small abstract painting using this particular "paper." I found it unique. And I immediately bought some Yupo to give it a try. Mind you, I had no earthly idea how to use it, but I am always game for experimentation.

 

Excitedly, I began to paint on this curiously different paper. Ugh. And double ugh. I was appalled at the ugliness I had created. The bonus of Yupo is that with a damp cloth or sponge you can wipe off the paint. I think I wiped off four different hideous paintings. By the time we left for Chicago, sitting on my drafting table was a blank piece of Yupo. I was convinced I was going to have to find a workshop to learn the proper use of it. And I was none too happy.

 

Maybe my muse was refreshed after the long weekend away, because upon my return I sat down to give the watercolors on Yupo one final try before giving up on it. And the above is what I created. Yay for me! I got loose! Loose, I tell ya! I have always wanted to quit being such a tight, precise painter. Looseness I wanted, and looseness I got.

 

I am very pleased with these tulips. I will even matte and frame this painting. ::gasp:: To the majority of people, this might look like a mess not worthy of framing. But to me, it gives me hope that I can express myself in a multitude of ways using various mediums.

 

Did I mention I got loose? ::grin::

 

"Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known." ~Oscar Wilde