Spindle whorls. 
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I never really knew what they were until this morning when I clumsily popped on to my beloved Facebook with my coffee while waiting for The Legs to get ready for the day. I saw a post from an Ancient Egyptian site showing these delicately carved stones, some purple like amethyst, some red like carnelian, some earth toned. Beautiful little things, like gems. I had to then Google the term to see exactly what they were and recognized the part. I'd just not known it's name or the variety of beautiful forms it came in, especially in the ancient world. One of the hallmarks of a sophisticated society, this little thing.  Hmmm...another source of inspiration for printmaking, drawing, collage, etc.  I never knew these beauties existed and would have continued on in my worl-less life had I not caught that post. This is why the Internet, and Facebook in particular, has my attention. I really do learn new things, all day long.  Sure I have to wade through lots of silly stuff, but it is worth it when something like the whorls show up.  That is also why, partly, my house is such a mess right now -- I actually found my bathrobe in the kitchen and a seam ripper in my silverware cup. My house is a reflection of my mind...say no more. But those whorls are so pretty! 
And artistically useful, darn it! 

Governor Baker reveals his four step plan back to our New Normal post-Corona today. It is for businesses and I can not see how schools will fit into the plan. Things have to develop slowly and maybe by 9 weeks we will be ready for groups again? I am seeing shared supplies, dirty desks, lousy paper towels to dry them, and lots of time at the sink washing hands with soap. I am not seeing six foot distances or masks that I can't see through -- I can hardly hear kids now. I might need to make each of my students an art mask with a clear front so that I can hear them! That would be a project...hmmm again.  I have some laminating film scraps at school that can be sewn into a mask...will have to bring some home to try it out. I get to go to school next week to get artwork organized and shut down my classroom. I hope I don't cry.

It is time to order supplies and am very unsure which way to go with it. What supplies do I need if we do online learning? Do I get things that can be sent home in kits? Lots of paper mache paste, maybe? That I can repackage and send home with directions for kids to mix up and use in collage and sculpture. I am really at a loss. I was having such a good year when this all hit. Really felt like I was reaching the targets I set and progressing well with the kids. All blown away. Am thinking of how to organize the curriculum so that it can flip back and forth between home and school...lots of work ahead. Lots of website work and preparation, lots of letting go of the way I've done things in favor of a new way that might fit this model better. The old dog needs to learn new tricks, but is ready for the challenge. 

Cramming to get my piece completed for the Baldishol exhibit. The beads are laying down in thick crusty glittery patches of yum in some areas, and while I'd love to focus only on that, I can't. So much to do. Posting lessons, giving feedback to kids for their work, online meetings, etc. The hours fly by. Interrupted with bouts of pain and fatigue that are easier to manage at home but also take time. I feel like I have half a life sometimes  -- expectations are full, but my body can only do half each day. Takes its toll in the form of stress, which is a constant companion that doesn't help with pain and fatigue. No easy answer to this one. 

Oh, but those whorls! Cheers. 

Had a strange evening of half sleep with nagging existential questions poking their noses in while I tried to find comfortable position and catch some rest last night. I rarely have that happen. This time, though, it was prolonged. I let my brain go on it's task a bit. Maybe it is because I am behind on my current art project that is due the end of May. Maybe it is because I read another study about RA that said there is on average an 11 year life expectancy drop for people with the condition. Maybe it is because it is day #? of being mostly homebound...I don't know.

I looked around my cramped little sleeping space, my nest. It was another "art supply annex" before it forcefully became a bedroom when friends  put a bed in there when I was hospitalized last year. Now when I sleep I'm surrounded by a plethora of old books, empty canvases, shelves full of supplies, and a million glass art history slides.  I have just enough room to turn around the doggie stairs to the bed. It is cozy! Most important, it is next to the bathroom. It was my first bedroom in this house when I was a baby until I was about 7, when my sister convinced me to switch with her and go live upstairs with our other sister. Her reasoning was that the cat had kittens under my bed (go figure #1) and their meowing would keep me up at night (go figure #2.)  Seeing as I hold dear and precious memories of reaching down through the space between my bed and wall and pulling up a tiny kitten for cuddles on my chest, I do not think I perceived it as an issue. I think there were lots of other discussions and even tantrums involved to make this residence change, but I digress. 

So, from my cluttered little cradle, my eyes popped open about 1 am. And looked around. And made my brain seriously consider my own mortality. What is going to happen to all my stuff? What poor bugger is going to have to empty it all out if I die suddenly? Will a junk truck get backed up and the house shaken into it, sending wonderful treasures to a trashy death with me? Hmmm. Then the thought, I probably have only ten years or so to live now if estimates are correct. Even if I live twenty, I'll never get to use all the cool stuff I have in here. Not to mention all of the beads! Then the thought...and I will never be able to make all the art I have in my mind. Ever. And that thought frustrated me more than anything else! 

So many ideas come to me every day for quilts, sculptures, drawings, collages, etc. All. Day. Long.  My crap body traps the ideas in my head and I crawl slowly forward in my artwork, taking so long to complete each piece it becomes almost trivial that I make anything at all.  So, only the best ideas make it out of the brain, then? Not always.  You need to play and make messes to get at the good stuff. Then I ask, what does it matter, anyway, if I don't make what I hope to make? I will not be here to feel bad about it, anyway, and I try to sleep. Again. 

Except at this point, my sweet puppies have joined me in my insomnia and are coming to peer into my eyes with seriously questioning looks. "Is it time to get up yet? Is it play time? Are you ok?" and then when I speak to them, my favorite look -- the "Can we cuddle up and go to sleep again?" one. Tessa plants a few surprise kisses on my cheek and sniggles her tiny warm self back to her sleeping place in my right armpit, and Teddie returns to the end of the bed, stretching out so that one paw touches her sister. Ellie has stayed sleeping, oblivious to the Running of the Mind.  Then I do the math and hope that statistics aren't true, as these girls could end up outliving me. Run the new brain tape! 

Isn't there a book about Scandinavian Death Cleaning? How depressing. Remind me never to read it! Especially before bed. Cheers! 

Day ? of this stay at home thing. More Zoom chats, Team Meetings, and other Internet uglies. I seriously love being home -- I mean, how could I not? But the Aging Fat Face thing is getting old. Yesterday, I reached a point of exasperation. I had to go to Walgreens for something, so took a quick run down the cosmetic aisle and literally filled my basket with anything that I thought might help. In went the foundation, the concealer, the blush. The eye liner, the mascara, and even eye shadow, which I haven't worn in twenty years. I even replaced the two lipsitcks that Teddie ate a couple weeks ago, though I avoided the fire engine red that she liked best. It took about five miserable minutes of saying "Oh, whatever" and chucking the war paint into the bin.  Let the Mask Making Begin.

So, I reluctantly rejoined the ranks of Most Women yesterday as I slapped on the creamy foundation, so opaque I had flashes of being a mortician. I progressed through the packages, one by one, and applied what I could to try and cover the doughy protuberances that have transformed my nose and cheeks. Really, how did this happen?  I never really liked makeup and certainly never excelled at it. What look was I going for? Anything that resembled a living human and not the Pillsbury Dough Woman. As the layers piled up I could feel the skin on my face becoming just a little more rigid, and imagined my pores opening up like fish gasping for air on the surface of a drying lake. Not sure if it helped or not, but at least I knew the dough face was at least buffered and would be less likely to trigger nausea in those who had to see me on their screens.

My stance of not wearing makeup for the past (ummm....lots of...) years was based on the fact that my skin breaks out really easily, and I just don't have the time or interest in "dolling up."  Since entering the stay at home world of Internet calls and Face Time, however, I am now forced to see what I have been inadvertently sharing with people around me. Yeah, no one looks GREAT on these platforms, but not everyone glows like an unbaked dinner roll, either. Gone are my eyes, now buried in heavy folds, and my nose has developed a whole new shape as I have aged. Thanks, Mom!  I guess I try really hard to ignore my appearance and have done a great job of it for the past...ummm...lots of years. I guess this strategy is not working well right now! 

Part of me feels like it is highly unjust to "have" to wear make up to be visually acceptable. Acceptable to who? My dating years are far behind me and I have zero expectations of changing my "single" household status. My birds? They might bite me if I make too significant a change to my face. The neighbors? God bless them, they haven't complained yet. The mailman? He keeps his distance!   In fact, everyone keeps their distance now, at least six feet, so maybe my worries are unfounded. Except for the all too honest camera. 

As a camera-shy person, this is a hard time to function professionally and otherwise. There is no way to stay in denial of one's pasty complexion and prednisone inspired cheeks when on a Zoom call. Nope. Must confront. And this is not easy! Not to mention the hair situation...omg. Some people are better read than seen!

So, people I know, forgive me my make up excesses and mistakes over the next few...years...as I try to reacquaint myself with the cultural norm I'd so happily abandoned.  Not sure if I will give up or end up looking like THAT lady who wears just a little too much blush. Just know underneath it all, is a bare faced person who is at least trying not to make others gross out! 

Ah, to be a woman. I have to go now, as I kissed Tessa and the top of her head is now pink. Bye! 

I am very grateful to an internet troll who once perused my Facebook page and gave me the moniker "a face made for radio." I laughed then, and still see it as a good call! Some of us hoomans just don't have the compelling visual appearance that others have, especially in photos or video. Add to it abhorrent swelling from medication and, let's be honest, the effects of aging, and you have a face that belongs behind the camera instead of in front of it. This is my problem lately, as I explore ways of teaching and being online! 

It took me literally years to be able to cope with being photographed in any capacity and my skills at being camera avoidant are truly awesome.  To have to go online now and connect via Zoom or Teams is my new challenge. I am grateful for the ability to pop up a still photo in these platforms, but that doesn't always cut it. I want to be able to teach online -- but what can I do when seeing my face scares me into silence? I think anyone over the age of 50, or maybe even 40, has had that moment of looking in the mirror and saying "Who the heck is that?" or "How did this happen????" One minute we are looking in the mirror, slapping on makeup and saying "Eh, passable" and the next we feel like a troll that lives under the bridge in a Scandinavian folk tale. 

This pandemic has forced me to take on the challenge of digital communication like never before.  I have the computer hardware and software tools I need, and in theory, understand what needs to be done. It just is so...uncomfortable. And awkward. And non-intuitive. So much to learn, I guess. The struggle is real! So if you see my uncomfortable face in any media on this site or otherwise, I apologize in advance. This face for radio is all I've got! 

On a brighter note, the embroidery step of the Boldishol tapestry piece is underway. The collaging and quilting is done, and now I am weaving in (get the pun?) first hand accounts of plague that could have been written today. There are so many!  I used a very heavy fabric for the back layer which makes stitching through it hard, but at least it will hang well. The more things change, the more they stay the same. 

At least artists of the medieval period did not have to zoom. Cheers!