Thank you, thank you, thank you...to everyone that has been so kind to me as I come to terms with the loss of my little white puppy. To some it is a simple, expected loss, but as I have known it would be for his entire life, losing his little spark in my life was like losing an essential part of myself. It's been a "two steps forward, one step back" sort of process, and each day gets a little better. Focusing on trying to play catch up for the rest of the summer will keep me busy enough, but I have to be prepared to acknowledge the "punch in the throat" feeling that comes from time to time. I can't thank my friends and family enough for the support they've given during That Week from Hell (losing Til and being hospitalized) -- talk about difficult. Am trying to put a good spin on things now, so that good things will follow. Very relieved all of this took place during vacation.

It feels like school is right around the corner, now, and there is a lot to do before then...including...drumroll...

Launching my Patreon! It might end up looking like an artistic Girl Scout Cookie stand, but I am aiming for authenticity, and am trying to develop "art things" that patrons would actually like and be able to use. It is challenging to know what people might like to receive in return for patronage, and I am sure the tiers will develop over time to be more varied and appropriate. My biggest challenge is making a welcome video as I am not gifted with moving images (!) and abhor my own appearance on film of any sort. If this is created, expect to see lots of animals moving around, and lots of still images of my work. I am sequestering myself to Caffe Nero almost daily to work on this and am optimistic that it will be a fun sandbox to for me and others to play in. 

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One big part of the Patreon will be an exclusive Facebook group for members to share their work, their ideas, their creative problems, and find support for their creative ideas (and lack of therin.) I can not teach much more in person due to the physical limitations of Arthuritis, so am hoping that a "Virtual Classroom" might work as an adjunct to my artistic life. I will be posting ideas and resources to the page and hope to cultivate a community of like minded artists, textile and otherwise.  Other tiers include monthly calendars featuring curated sets of links to artists' work and/or creative ideas to try, digital art images, and more.  Maybe even the occasional webchat or webinar lesson. The biggest challenge I have so far is finding ways of getting images of my art on the Patreon page itself. On my "to-do" list. 

I was shooting for an August 1 start, but it will be more likely be September 1, if I want to make sure things are ship-shape. As always, I expect life to get in the way. It always seems to do that! 

I would LOVE to hear from people about the types of things they would like to see as Patreon "things" from me -- what would be meaningful to receive for pledges? Physical things? Digital Things? It is new territory for me, and many artists.

Amanda Palmer, Queen of Patreon, has written about finding that place in yourself where it is ok to "Take the Donut" -- accepting things from others -- and finding value in what you do as an artist. I find this very hard to do, so starting a Patreon is extremely challenging in this regard. We shall see...

​Cheers!

Summer feels like it is really here, now. The front, side, and back yards are embarrassingly overgrown with weeds and grassses, and the air conditioners are running overtime, trying to keep up with the humidity.  It is green, hot, hazy, and damp. I pull the new long curtain across the window in what was an art room in my house, and now is a bedroom, and I take another nap. Too hot to do anything else, and the pain feels worse in humid weather.  Sadly I feel like the great build up of positive motivation I had as school drew to a close got kneecapped.  Grief is real, folks, even for a dog. Especially for a dog. 

Today, though, I pushed myself to be productive. I organized and submitted my preliminary classwork for the second module in the School of Stitched Textiles course. Later than I thought I would, but then again, everything is later these days. I finally am feeling physically better, back to my "normal" (meaning still in lots of pain, but not "sick" with other problems.) This is my first free week of summer. I "should" be going deep into a new piece of art, taking the time I never have all school year to develop meaningful work that I care about, that challenges me and helps me understand and survive in my world.

This is hard to do with my heart living in a very sunken state. The reality of no more Til, ever, is hitting home now that the chaos and distraction of a hospital stay is behind me. I dreamed that he was still alive and felt so much happier in the dream, then woke up only to realize he was long gone, out of reach, into infinity and beyond. This gave way to a brutal cry that was hard to control. I know it's going to hit me from time to time, and that grief circles around with a mind of its own. I know logically about grieving loss and have done so many times in the past, but am very shocked at the sense of loss I am feeling. Most of the time my logical self prevails, but grief can be irrational. He very well could be the last little dog I'll ever have, and that thought both scares and reassures me. It is weird. 

Yesterday Hapi started barking like Tilly, then said "Till..." and stopped. He has howled like Tilly did when I closed the door and left for work in the morning, and recently even has brought up some of the dearly departed Toby sounds, too. He recreates the sound and feeling of my little complete family, which will never be the same again. Ellie just moves from room to room with me, laying down near my feet, and quickly falls to sleep. She doesn't really seem to mind being alone. Everything changes, my logical brain reminds me, and things can't be the same forever. All while my broken heart begs to hold my little pup one more time. 

I think about next steps. Continuing to get used to the lack of endorphins that surely were created every time I looked at Tilly, let alone interacted with him. Giving myself space to have one less creature to care for and worry about. Try to work on the medical bills left behind from the experience of having a little fella with a bad hip, rotten teeth, and a liver shunt. Try to be mature about this and not see it as a major life issue. People lose dogs all the time and it sucks, we know it. Don't dwell. 

Or, I briefly let my brain wander to think about getting a new puppy to care for, so that Ellie won't be alone in the fall, so that I can feel that happiness again. Then I realize that this is selfish too, as I question my ability to care for another dog for its lifetime due to the medical problems present in my own.  And, I don't want rebound-puppy, as that is very unfair to all concerned -- and I don't know how any dog could compare to Tilly. I looked online at older rescue dogs, and was put off with the medical needs they seem to come with. Eventually I did look online at puppies and felt relieved when they were way out of my price range. Decision making not needed. Back to trying to get used to life without my little furry prozac. 

I better go outside and pull some weeds.  My eyes are leaking again. 

Getting there. Without warning the predictable path of my summer, including carefully scheduled weeks of classes and big lofty creative goals, rose to the sky and went "Pop!" last week. I am still assessing the damage, and also seeing the effects of massive help from my best friends.

On June 25, my beloved Tilly passed away. Those who know me and my pets know that Til was the most special of them all. We have been through thick and thin together, and just looking at that little ragamuffin would lift my spirits and bring true joy. A hundred times a day. Those little eyes held such conversations with me, and the one kiss on the cheek he infrequently gave out was a true delight. Yes, he was 15. Yes, I should have expected it. Instead, I feel like I've lived on eggshells for the last year knowing he could go at any moment, and just praying he wouldn't suffer.  And knowing how much I would when it was his time. 

He seemed a bit confused on 6/24, sort of weak after a bout of tummy trouble. Woke on 6/25 to find him in a puddle and not trying to get out of it. Made a vet appointment and despite the efforts of The World's Best Vet, Dr. Carol couldn't pull off a miracle. His little heart was slowing down, he was staring off into space. I could feel kim leaving.

He took a large part of me with him that I will never see again.  At least he did not seem to be suffering or in terrible pain, and it was quick rather than a long illness. I suppose we can't ask for more. The pain of losing him though is very terrible, and while I am getting used to a house without him, I will never be used to my heart being without him. 

On June 28 I woke at 1:30 am with a swollen elbow that felt like it was on fire. Bright red, extremely painful. Put an ice pack on it and waited to see what would happen. Went to Winchester ER, got ATB's. Couldn't tolerate them, ended up in Lahey (a much better hospital, IMHO!) for five days. Cellulitis, septic bursitis. Brutal experience. 

As I sat in my uncomfortable hospital bed, fighting with layers of blankets to stay warm enough when the chills hit and cool enough when they left, I cringed at thinking of the messy state of my house. I am disorganized and lately not able to keep up with everything that needs doing. RA has been out of control, and general life has been, well, busy way beyond my available energy supply. I left things around the house that shouldn't be left. I was assured it was okay by my friends that always make me feel like things are okay, even when I know they aren't.

I imagined my good friends going in to help with the animals and thinking that they were entering a crime scene in the movie "Seven." My pals would say "No problem" on the phone, stepping up to feed the flying dinosaurs in addition to the cats, guinea pig, and now just one little elderly dog. Neighbors making chicken and rice for her. My three pals coordinating who was visiting when to help out, despite their own extremely busy lives in which they are overwhelmed, too. 

Feeding the pets was not all they were doing. 

When I came home on July 2, Tim had said "You aren't going to believe this," and he was right. My dear, dear friends had pitched in and cleaned every room of my house. Organized all my stuff - something I have a terrible time doing. Boxed things, bagged things, moved things, and cleaned things. Every piece of clothing hanging on the back of my bathroom door (oops...but I do that) or found elsewhere, along with linens, brought to a cleaner and washed & dried or dry cleaned, hanging on a new clothing rack. New towels and a new bathmat greeted me in the bathroom, along with a tub that sparkled. Because my bedroom is upstairs and the bathroom downstairs, I face a fall risk every night...and they fixed that, too. They put a really nice twin bed in the art room right next to the bathroom, under a homasote design wall (feels so studio-living, mannn). New sheets, pillows, the works. The old, barely working ac's were replaced with new ones, and lots of really hard-to-do yard work was done. The refrigerator was stocked, there was plenty of water. Everywhere I looked things were orderly, clean, and organized.

I cried. 

Unfortunately I am extremely stubborn and HATE receiving help. I try so hard to be self-sufficient that I feel any kind of help means I am "less than able" and "less than acceptable." Just the way I am.  Having RA with the looming threat of disability can make me want to be superhuman, I guess.  Works fine until you are feverishly locked in a hospital room with a large area of bright red cellulitis spreading around your abnormally hot and swollen elbow, praying that the infection doesn't spread to the bloodstream, wondering how the hell you are going to clean up the house when you get home with an arm that won't bend or work right. And thinking of your deceased pup. Not a happy place to be. Did I mention that I had to cold-turkey stop prednisone, when I've been on it for literally years? 

Thankfully Tim was off work this week, and so kindly helped me feed the birds, pick up stuff at the store, and check in on me for the first couple days. I needed his help. It is so hard to need help from others to care for the parrots. I see them as a luxury, and choice, on my part -- not someone else's problem. To have friends that cared for them made me extremely grateful.  

To have friends that also cared for me enough to give up their weekends and give me a "domestic restart" after a hospital stay is overwhelming to say the least. I do not know what I can do or how I can ever properly thank these amazing people who did this. Their generosity is beyond belief. I still can't believe it. My amazing art friends sent beautiful flowers, and my sister visited with candy, and I know there were many people concerned "fighting" this infection with me. I thank you all, so so much.

Now it is July 5th, and I am here, figuring out what to do next. I broke down and restarted prednisone today, and the side effects of an abrupt stop in taking this wicked drug are slowly receding. Am hoping that tomorrow I will be strong enough to really feel better, to not feel like I did today. Getting itchy to get back to the artwork, which is a good sign, I suppose. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, and this:

"It’s an insane world but in it there is one sanity, the loyalty of old friends." Ben-Hur