For those who aren't familiar (although if you know me you must be by now!), Chris Difford is half of the songwriting duo that is Squeeze. Over the past 35 years I've seen almost every show in the area, have every record (and think the sons are part of my DNA, now.) Have met both Chris and Glenn in quick post-show "meet and greets," but know that the quick hello and effluvium of praise isn't always taken in by the recipients.

Last week I read Chris' blog and he sounded weary and hesitant to jump into this new tour. His blog reflected that he was leaving his beloved wife and family, yet again, and facing long, hard days on the road. He was appreciative of the opportunity to do so, but was just acknowledging that it was hard for him to do. Me, being an unashamed groupie, shot off an email of support and love and was amazed when he replied that "it made his day." I think I wrote about this last week, even. Was a delightful experience!

At 2:30 this morning I came across a link to Chris Difford's blog, which is always fun to read as his witty take on things makes me think more than twice. The entry began with a description of traveling to Ireland to play, and all the "stuff" that goes along with it. Then, as I read on, I found my own words on his blog. He included my note and said "And so i wake up to this email from my website, and gratitude flows over me like a shower of warmness, Thank you."  Stop the presses. Take a breath.

To whoever says the Internet and social media causes harm, I beg to differ. (or Difford, if you will excuse the pun.) If I had thought as a teenager that I'd be able to actually connect with him in a meaningful way and he'd actually be happy as a result, I wouldn't have believed it.  This world is so big, and so full of moving parts - people, time, space, places, information -- it never stops. But for one little moment, I reached out across the Internet, not knowing what was at the other end. I am tickled that the recipient caught the bouquet and sent me one in return.  It is a gift I will never forget! And two nights of dancing (even if it is chair dancing!) with excellent seats coming up in November really sweetens the onset of Fall. Thank you, Mr. Difford, for everything. We are all just human, after all, and you never know when kind words and appreciation can make a difference to someone. 

Onward to a full day that I am fighting to have as I am flaring up and in wicked, evil physical pain. Things I don't want to wait on will have to wait, and I will have to put one sore foot in front of the other and get through what I can, accepting the limitations. This sucks. Not writing this here for sympathy, just personal reflection. If I mention it here I can keep track, which is important to do. The lower back is not super painful but the legs are, with some instability. Hands, arms, and of course, Da Feet. I want to crawl back into bed for the day but know that isn't possible. Onward, I say.  With a happy heart from the gift of connection. 

Raw, cold Saturday morning. Rainy. Good weather to stay in and be cozy, cleaning up and doing art, if the legs allow for both. I have more ideas than I can get to, especially digital. Hmmm....wondering about that.

I am really loving the possibilities afforded by digital printing on fabric. What is the relationship between the digital image I make and the finished textile, though? How much embellishment is needed vs. it becoming merely decorative? Are the "naked" images ever enough to call them art? They might be. Maybe in print form? Can I allow my artistic self to branch out a bit and "see" my art differently? I have a room full of art slides of historical images I am waiting to play with, and am still working on the first one I scanned and used over a year ago. I like my textile art because it shows evidence of my breath, my action, my being, one stitch or bead placed at a time. The overall effect resonates with my energy. Over the top? Yeah, you could say that. But that is the cloth I am made of, in many ways. 

Without being too maudlin, I get the sense that with the RA (and the meds I take for it) and my family history that longevity is not on the cards, and I tend to try to make the most of life. And every art piece, I think. Every day, every relationship. All we all have, from day to day, is now. A little future, maybe, but mostly today. The heavily stitched and beaded pieces is my way of saying "I've been here," I think. Strange thoughts this morning. Strange times, too, I think. As my ex-husband said, it is all kind of silly, though as there is truth to his words of "when you are dead all your art will end up in the trash." I don't think that really matters, though. The trash pile will be pretty! When art is what you do, you just gotta do it. 

I look around me and see a huge amount of physical work that needs doing, and my legs just aren't ready yet. Maybe this gap of time makes me more reflective. Brain ready, body not! But I also see my three elderly pups, curled up siggeldy-piggeldy on a big pile of dog beds and blankets, accepting that their breakfast needs to wait for my legs, too.  My love for them goes deeper than just about anything. My cats stride through the room, monitoring the hidden feline airwaves for sounds I can not hear, letting me know all is well. The birds offer their vocal two cents, but aren't very demanding. They all get the routine. I am grateful for such unwavering love and support from my "kids." If only people were as understanding. 

C'mon legs. There is art to make, dog laundry to do, and floors to clean. Let the day begin! 

Spent a luxurious hour or so last night working on my current big piece. Ah, the power of stitch. I am using very simple running stitches throughout to add tone, direction, and texture, and am trying not to obscure the original digitally printed image while adding surface. Challenging! Once again, having the time to just sit, stitch, and get lost in an audiobook was medicine for the soul. Yes, I still had a million things that needed doing, but am grateful that I forgot about them for one night after the dogs were walked, the birds put to bed (except for Hapi, who hung out with me) and a few chores completed. Stitching is like an unwinding of the soul. 

Then, almost all at once, my battery drained and I needed to find my bed. Stumbling tired, which surprised even me. I guess it was a busy day, beginning at 4:30 instead of the usual 5 a.m. Plowed through the day, arthritis hanging on like a nasty bulldog on my sleeve, but not having an exceptionally restrictive impact. Walked to school, and when walking my dogs I met a really nice woman who had a gigantic long legged hound that wanted to meet my brood. Turns out I taught her children a longtime ago. Turns out also that she has multiple autoimmune diseases and sees the same rheumatologist I do. We made a warm connection through illness, in a "takes one to know one" sort of way. She had similar experiences to my own and has been severely impacted by having multiple illnesses. So hard! 

Just read on another board that Thomas Jefferson had "rheumatism" -- could have been osteoarthritis, but his descriptions sound very much like RA, too. Go figure...I can't imagine having this without the anti-inflammatory / RA meds we have now...and he still did a lot with his life. I suppose my Dad got through his life with only naprosyn (Aleve), which most likely destroyed his gut, but might have addressed a little of the pain. He had a poor quality of life and every day I remind myself of the choice I have to make -- to give in, or get over it.  If I truly listened to my body I would never leave my bed, would weigh a million pounds, and would sleep all day. So, I don't listen!

Today after school I have my new activity called "Stitch Club." A gaggle of kids who are learning how to embroider. It is a blast and I feel so happy to be passing on my passion to eager kids that might be able to benefit from the skills in a life-long way. So fun! Can't wait to see what they do for projects! 

Art is a process and a way of life as much as it is a bunch of objects. I am grateful to have ART in my life as well as ARThritis. Art will win, or at least make the ride more bearable. I don't know how Jefferson did it. Cheers. 

Encountering death is never easy. Whether we are young or old, whether we know the deceased directly or are acquainted with a relative, or whether it is a death we hear about with no connection at all, it can have impact. Often surprising. Sometimes visceral. 

Old memories are stirred up, and with them come the emotions of the time and place. In the case of the recent sudden death of a young teen in my town, there is shock and disbelief. I can not imagine the pain his family must be feeling right now. Out of the blue kind of passing. A truly lovely young man who was a joy to know. Quiet, sensitive, kind, positive, happy, polite. Focused on his future. Death makes no sense, and neither do our reactions to it. 

The rumor mill makes me feel sick. There is a natural curiosity to ask about what happened, but people seem to press for details and clarification as though it makes a difference why this person passed. Does it really? There are no answers at this time, and no clues either, for that matter. The stories I am hearing second hand from people I know make me feel ill.  I wonder how they'd feel if it was their child or relative who died suddenly?  Would they want people who don't know them theorizing about such a monumental loss and telling untrue stories? 

Yes, there have been so, so many sad deaths in our town related to drugs with young people. Too many, and it is horrific. In my years teaching I think I have seen more than a dozen students pass from drug related deaths. I see them when I go to my parents' graves at the cemetery. It is heartbreaking, tragic, and feels wasteful of life.  Too many kids turn to drugs, and too many kids can get them. But not all deaths are drug related. 

The cause of death of the young man that is being waked today has not been determined. There is no reason. There is no story. There are only rumors that can hurt the family, and I think it is terrible and unnecessary. I have heard rumors that paint a picture of this young man that simply isn't true. People, please stop passing along theories that make you feel good to say but have zero evidence. Thank you.

Maybe it is because if we think we know the whys of a death we can understand it and it won't happen to us or someone we love. We fear the Death Monster so greatly in our lives that any bit of understanding helps us cope with the idea that this is everyone's final destination. Surmising the "why" of a sudden death helps us understand the nature of death itself. In this case, though, we need to just accept it, grieve it, and hope the family finds peace in the face of such a tragic loss. 

Today and tomorrow are difficult days. They are not cushioned by gossip. Hug your children, everyone. 

Another week! Crazy one, really. A lovely dinner party with my best friend Dona, her partner Paul, and Tim on my birthday, and a surprise party by my amazing stitching friends on Tuesday. Add to it cards, calls, and warm wishes from so many people and I'd say it was a nice week and I survived the hop into my fifties quite well. I am so, so grateful for the amazingly kind, supportive, and thoughtful people in my life that "get" me. I know how lucky am to know all of you and wouldn't survive without your kindness! Man, it takes a village sometimes. 

So, here I sit on a quiet Saturday morning. My house is in shambles due to ankle and foot problems that restricted my activity this week. They still are really painful and the left one is in a brace, but I have got to deal with the mess my kids and I make. When the house gets this bad I think about photos I've seen of serial killer Ed Gein's house and think "Careful...getting there!" Or the meme that says "Her decorating style is one that says "There are signs of a struggle." I will never be a domestic goddess, but hate it when it is this bad. The weather has been super humid so everything feels damp. Even the parrots! Yuck. I am passing time with my coffee, waiting for the pain meds to kick in so I can do more than hop on one foot with a cane. Thank god for medication that can at least make this all more bearable. 

Have tickets for a concert tonight that I'd love to see - Chameleons Vox at the Middle East in Cambridge. Not sure if the body can handle it, as seating is very limited there. A shame, really. I've emailed the club about arranging for a seated spot but am not optimistic. By the time I clean up this place, I might not have the energy to go anyway. Time will tell. I hate you, RA. 

On a bright note, I am in love with my classes at school, and the optimism that September brings. To be part of kids' lives at this important stage is a true gift. I look forward to the year and making their experiences as meaningful and fun as I can. Art is the best subject to teach! Getting the "vibe" of each class is what happens at this point -- deciding about seating plans and feeling out the personality of each of the fourteen different groups I teach. I am also teaching two after school classes for fun - Art Club and Stitch Group. Inspiration abounds! 

The best news of all is that on Wednesday my neighbor will be driving to Maine to bring home the newest addition to our Temple Street family. A baby Maltese! She is not a thoughtless replacement for the dear one who passed away in August -- no dog could ever compete with Chloe's personality. Ever. Lilly, the 9 year old Maltese that loved Chloe so, so much, is suffering visible anxiety and loneliness, though, so the decision was made to bring home a baby.  At 4 weeks she weighed 1.5 lbs., so she still will be a tiny little princess upon her arrival here. Baby Mia, welcome to the street who loves you already!!!!! 

So, where is the art in this "Make Art" post? I am trying...always trying...and tell myself that after I clean and do laundry and and and there will be time to snatch an hour. Here's to hoping. If I weren't in so much pain I'd be able to do so much. That is the reality and I have to deal with it. In my head there are so many art projects though. That is the sad part. Cheers. 
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Monday, Monday...but it is Labor Day! Looking forward to catching up on schoolwork and homework and art today. Hopefully not in that order. Feeling sick about what the rest of the country is going through -- extensive fires in Montana, floods in Texas with more rains coming. If only the rain and fire could have combined to cancel each other out. This destruction is horrendous. I can't imagine. So here I am in my dry and fire-less kitchen, considering normal day to day things. Feels shallow to do so in light of all this suffering. 

Tim was kind to take me along on a really nice trip this weekend out to Tanglewood in Lenox, MA to see the 40th Anniversary show of Quadrophenia. A great experience! A very unusual combination of performers: Pete Townsend (The Who, of course!), Alfie Boe (Les Miserables), Billy Idol (himself!) and, of course, Keith Lockhart and the Boston Pops Orchestra and Choirs. Seeing all of these people together on a stage wouldn't happen in one's wildest dreams. History in the making! Because The Who were more traditional mainstream rock than what I was into in my early music days, I didn't know the Quadrophenia material very thoroughly. Even so, the show was animated and really beautiful -- the arrangements were superb. Must have been quite a task to translate rock into orchestra without losing the edge, which they did really well. The main singer, Alfie Bow, got a little "show-toony" at times with more "rock" toned material, but his enthusiasm and unbelievable voice made up for it. Seeing Billy Idol do more than just sneer and croak punk lyrics was quite a treat, too. And to even just see Pete Townsend! At 72, still playing hard. No smashed guitars, though. 

We ran into my bff and her boyfriend and hung with them on the lawn before taking our super good seats in the "shed." Some shed! Dona had a rolling cart, cut flowers, tablecloths, and plenty of wine to keep their evening going. Lots of much needed laughs and a really good time. Tim and I stayed in a lovely B&B just steps away from Tanglewood that was decorated to the hilt with such an arrangement of knick-nacks and dolls I may never recover. Really cute place with a chatty owner who made a yummy fritatta for breakfast, too. Must try that...!

Best of all was the fact that I knew the dogs, birds, and cats were being looked after, and it was a change of scenery without the immediate morning immersion into zookeeping. I love them dearly and actually missed them all during this short zip to Western Mass., but the break was nice. They did fine, and I am happy to know a pet sitter that can help for quick trips like this. Pricey but worth it, methinks. 

So, thank you Tim, should you stumble across this blog. I appreciate your kindness in including me and am really happy that you finally got to see your long time idol perform. Love you. Hope we have more adventures. 

And thank you, pets, for not creating domestic mayhem for the sitters or getting sick while I was off duty for just about 24 hours. I am well aware of all that could happen! 

One more week til I've completed a 50 year spin around the sun. Can't believe I made it. Back in the day of listening to Billy Idol I thought surely I'd never make 40. The nihilism of youth. Anything now is gravy, as they say. Depressing doc appointments last week makes me realize that the RA is advancing, and it is all too easy to get stuck in a rut with this mess. Was nice to get away and while still dealing with it, at least deal with it with different wallpaper. Cheers. 

August 28, 2017
It’s a launch!
School year #23 at Parker begins today and I couldn’t be happier. There is nothing like the optimism and sense of possibility when school begins. Spotless shiny floors, new bulletin boards, new supplies unpacked, brushes washed and conditioned...brings energy and a sense of a new start that everyone should have in any career. Reset the start button, batteries recharged, begin! The enthusiasm between colleagues is infectious, and there aren’t enough hours in a day, again. No naps! More espresso, please!

Except, I really hope to find at least half of one hour a day to do something artistic for my mind and spirit. Over the weekend I had a wee bit of an emo funk (ok, maybe a bit more than wee bit.) Attribute it to my current obnoxious pain levels, prednisone, the two atb’s I’m gagging down twice a day, even “just” hormones. Whatever it was, I felt sad and could only see the negatives in my life. Hate when this hat appears. Nothing overwhelming, just a baseline of less than thrilled with the current lot. Cognitively I know better and can see it with my own eyes (one look at Kizzy usually erases any thoughts of unappreciation) but when the rabbit hole opens and I get my ankle stuck, it can be challenging to just keep walking, And my legs and ankles and feet were really hurting! Walking might not be the best comparison!

So, I took out a new sketchbook and sat in the sun and made a rather uninspired page spread. I watched the bumble bees pop from weed to weed in my garden., There are so many bumble bees here! I drew simple contours of tangled weeds, and then painted them in, with very limited artistic goals. As I drew, I felt better. More grounded, less consumed by conflict, less present in my daily struggles. Sure, Toby was on his run in the yard with me and got blind-marooned multiple times and needed me to go get him and redirect him to where I was sitting, but generally I had a little block of time that made me feel better. Better than any pill the docs want to add to the RA regimen.

And it really doesn’t take long. While I love stitching and will always consider my needle my best pen, the satisfaction of “just” drawing is something I can not forget.

As I sit in meetings today, which feel like tight reins on a galloping horse, I will have my sketchbook handy and just...be. Cheers.

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