Summer has started! I have my master list of Big Things That Need Doing around the house, and for the first time ever I might just have the energy to do them! It has been a very strange year. Both difficult and wonderful, and living with such incompatible states of being has been bizarre. 

My precious little puppies are growing up, and it has been so good to be home with them all this time. Beyond being adorable, I am confident that they are both really good, stable, loving dogs. Feels like a dream and like I've hit the genetic jackpot with them. The little one's nickname is "Baby Corona," and she is a goofy little cartoon character of a dog, while Teddie remains a perfectly behaved, tolerant and oh-so-smart and beautiful big sister.  I am the luckiest person alive with these two. Almost one year ago my little Tilly left, and took a huge chunk of my heart with him. I never thought I'd have another maltese, let alone two. They are not him, never could be, but it is a new, surprising puppy family that I'd never expected to have. Like a new lease on life, with new joy every day!  I don't take it for granted.

There has also been deaths during this time, too many deaths. Family of good friends, from Corona and other causes. So hard to deal with for families in this time of limited visitation.  My heart breaks for my friends who have lost moms and a sister, with such limited contact because of the virus. Hopefully, and I truly believe this to be true, that people who have passed can still be around us and know how much they were loved, and how much they are missed. I feel sure any anguish they carried at the end of their lives for being without loved ones is if not forgotten, then let go of, in favor of the freedom and peace of whatever comes next. There most definitely is something after this corporeal state. 

In addition to creating artwork of my own this summer, I am hoping to teach four classes in July to small groups, outdoors in my yard. I am setting up a "driveway studio" with tables under canopies, and it should be a blast! It is hard to get word out about these classes, and I hope word of mouth gets around to find the kids who need some contact and creative fun this summer.   I think paper mache outside will allow for giant sculptures, and we will be able to sew outside, too! I miss teaching in person so much, and hope there are kiddles that want to do art this summer. 

Off to begin tackling that list, on a 92 degree day! Cheers! 

What a sad world to wake up to, on so many levels. Even two little adorable white dogs can't cut it, today. 

As I slept in my little warm cocoon last night, all hell broke loose in Boston. Police injured, a police car burned, and the National Guard was called in to restore order. Why? Because SOME protesters began looting and causing physical mayhem. Certainly not all. From accounts, it was a peaceful protest and both cops and protesters were focused on processing the tension in a non-violent way. What happened to George Floyd was a horrible crime. Inexcusable, and I am sure there WILL be justice for him.  I just can't see how raiding boutiques and burning uninvolved people's hard work can help. It is just additional violent crime, and frankly the perpetrators hurt the cause. 

I don't understand the world anymore.  May the ones who behaved like this get to the back of the line for health care, too. Just terrible. This time in our world is stressful. We are sitting on a powder keg and all it takes is a spark for some to lose perspective.  Maybe some of the fuel is the stress of isolation and being "told" to stay in/away from others? Everyone needs to take a step back, a deep breath, and direct anger where it needs to go, through productive channels. Easier said than done, I suppose. 

It seems irrelevant to be posting today about finally completing a long project that turned into a personal marathon of sorts. On the other hand, it is completely relevant. Being an artist often means focusing energy into something beyond one's self in order to create, produce, and most important, learn, in a positive way.  It always amazes me to see the complexity of the final piece, and how by following the tiny breadcrumbs of ideas, a layered and expressive result occurs. Each stitch, each bead, each thought...all adds up to something. While gorging on the creative process due to a deadline other parts of my life suffer -- my laundry doesn't get done and views of the domestic landscape are less than pleasant. Somehow it feels okay, though, because there is a meaningful reason. The day to day "doing" is temporary, ephemeral, almost inconsequential. With an art object, it is different. Something is coming into existence that did not exist before.  We all get to choose where we put our energy in this one life we are given. I choose to be constructive and creative. 

It is hard to justify the energy and expense needed to be an artist sometimes, but at the end of the day, it isn't a choice. It is a calling.  Being mostly trapped in my house for the last few months has really brought home the fact that being an artist is one of the greatest gifts in the world a person could have. I have never been bored during this time - not even once. Every day has been a blessing. This has been an opportunity to carve out a little time to reflect, create, think, learn, and live in the mental world of art. The potential aesthetic "What ifs..." are too numerous to explore in one lifetime, and it takes discipline and effort to create in a focused way.  In a world where so many are quick to scream, I am happy to be whispering quietly to myself and seeing what happens. 

And, thankfully, it happened. The recent art piece is done and will be in the mail this week to Minnesota. Called "April Pandemic, 2020," it features an image from the Baldishol tapestry, a Norwegian textile fragment that the exhibit is built around. The surface carries stitched text, quotes of firsthand accounts of plague, from historical sources. At first the piece seems "pretty" - but upon close investigation it reveals the fear and ugliness of this unsettled time. When I began reading what others had said about past plagues (sources include ancient Greece, Rome, and Europe) it became clear that our reactions today are universal expressions of confronting the unknown. Whether it is Corona-19, Bubonic Plague, or Yellow Fever, we are a vulnerable lot at the end of the day. The medieval art style is not very realistic and somewhat impersonal. I like the contrast between using this "universal" form of imagery and the very personal and relevant reactions included in the text. Out of tension can come surprises. Cheerio.​

Spindle whorls. 
​
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!

Friday during April Vacation. Which is irrelevant because it is no different than any other day. I am still posting work for kids to do, and giving them feedback on what they do, and am still thinking like an art teacher...so many ideas for when we go back to school! Collecting lots of new ideas and trying to think of what an online art program would / could look like. So many possibilities and could be very interesting. Never as good as the real thing, though. 

Had a thought today, though, about my general state and this post might not make sense to people who do not have a chronic pain condition. It might seem like more whining, and that attention could be better paid elsewhere by DOING something. Problem is, the only parts of the body that aren't really hurting right now are my hands, despite my efforts to coax them into movement by feeding the dogs, cats, birds, and piggie. And making coffee, taking pills, eating a raw carrot (I really like one in the morning, not sure why?!)  Time spent waiting. Waiting for the pain to go down just enough so that when I move it is not a brutal exercise of triumph.

I'm doing all that I am supposed to be doing. Getting adequate rest. Eating healthy. Moving as much as possible every day. Taking the meds like clockwork. So why do I suddenly develop concrete and barbed wire limbs today, and not yesterday? And not tomorrow? Makes no sense, and that is a hard part of dealing with RA. It has a mind of its own and rears its head at the most unpredictable times. While I am glad my hands are good, my dogs are looking at my with anticipation of a walk in the sunshine. I would love that, and would love to be able to take a long, leisurely walk right now. Then I move a leg, and body says no, at least not right now. 

I thought listing the steps of dealing with a flare like this might be of interest to others who deal with this...comfort to know there are others who do this stuff!

1. Open eyes and take assessment of pain levels. Know it is bad, but force self to get up and think "It will wear off." Subtext: "Riiiight."
2. Gulp down daily meds, and look longingly at an extra prednisone pill or seven, knowing it will make it all go away. Also knowing it will grow hair on your female face, increase the hump of fat on your back, eat your bones and blow up your moon face even bigger, not to mention internal organ damage. Vow to stay the course and take only the regular dose. 
3. Stagger to sink and fill big mug with water to make coffee. Realize parrot is watching and making the sounds of each step seconds before the actual sound happens. Laugh. Start thinking of ways of walking only on one leg. Realizing that you've tried it and it is hard to do. Besides - which leg is the good leg? Can't tell anymore. 
4. Gently change dog water bowls and hop over to get a can of doggie food for the girls. Spin the filled dishes like frisbees to dogs with hopes they reach their goal and do not spill their contents. Stagger over to the cat area and make sure the felines have what they need. They have zero tolerance for slackers. 
5. Sit for a minute and distract self with Facebook and email while waiting for medication to make it easier to move. The gnawing thought that this is one of those days when the meds will be ineffective. Try to deny this thought. Realize I am holding my breath and remind myself to breathe. 
6. Begin feeding the birds. Often this requires ice packs placed in specific places, and a few minutes of waiting for the numbing effects to happen. Feeding the birdies involves many steps including careful but awkward bending to retrieve soiled newspaper, changing ceramic bird baths (weights, anyone?) and cleaning dishes, all while dodging an angry green missile called Cairo who is never happy with anything, and shouts a violent "No!" just before tossing something to the floor. If lucky, he finds something to amuse him for about two minutes at a time. If not, he rides my head and shoulder, shouting no at everything. After cages are refreshed and food is inside, gratefully gimp around and put the birds back in their houses. Turn on Channel 2 and watch them watch. Laugh. 
7. Hobble over to cabinet and take an extra tylenol. This is war, baby. Sorry, liver of mine. I've got to walk better than this to function today. Feels a bit futile, but it is all I have in the arsenal that won't send me back to bed. 
8. Apologize to dogs who think they should have already have been walked. And know that they should have. 
9. Return to coffee and carrot, and distract self again for a half an hour, waiting for relief. Instead, feel overcome with exhaustion as though I have been up for 24 hours straight. Huh? Where did this come from? Why is it here? We are talking hard-to-hold-head-up tired. Suddenly. Know I have to keep moving or I will sleep sitting up. Leave coffee and carrot. 
10. Walk slowly through house, picking up the puppy detritus -- shredded wee wee pads, shredded paper, shredded toilet paper (see a pattern, here?) Another pattern: step, breathe, step, breathe repeat. It is hard to breathe normally when making a movement that hurts so much. Over and over. See puppies look so happy when walking near the door, then seeing them slink sadly to the big doggie bed and collapse with a sigh when they realize it isn't happening yet. Trying, girls, trying. 
11. Force another cup of coffee down, standing this time. Contemplate getting dressed and out with the dogs, hoping the fresh air and light can battle the overwhelming fatigue. Knowing it is going to be hard today. If I listened to my body, I'd go back to bed and wake up in 2021. Look at clock and realize next set of pain meds can not be taken for several hours. Want to cry. Want to give up. Want to go back to bed. Want all of this to just stop and want to have a day - just one day - when I can spring out of bed and be productive like I used to be. Then put all those thoughts in the denial box, because it just ain't going to happen. 
12. Sit in chair and write this blog post, taking time to move legs and arms and neck gently to get ready for the inevitable required bodily movement. Knowing that when I run out of ideas to write about, I have to move the painful cinder blocks that have taken the place of my feet. Accept it, accept it, accept it, and get going, hoping not to grimace when outside like I can do freely indoors, alone. 

Coffee, tylenol, and stretches do not address a flarey morning like this. I am not sure what does. The rhyme and reason of RA is mystifying. The end! 

Teddie, Tessa, and Ellie need their walk now, and darn it, they are going to get it.  Cheers! 

Notes from the pandemic, Volume 7. At least I have thought about posting this one. It has taken this long to get a new rhythm, and new normal, and I almost feel guilty for being...happy. I am home, I am ok, I have my wonderful pets with me and time to care for them. I have my new baby dogs to nurture. I have opportunities to help people by making masks, and can connect with my students online (granted, not enough of them!) And, I have my art. 

Watching what is happening outside of my little happy bubble is horrifying. The deaths, the suffering, the isolation of those in hospitals and nursing homes that can not be supported by loved ones is heartbreaking. The response by nurses and health workers is amazing, and the videos of ones who are overwhelmed by what they see really gets through to the soul. So much suffering. have made over 200 masks so far and will keep going as long as there is need. 

Therein lies the guilt. Being immunosuppressed, I have been warned. I would not be surprised though if I have already had the virus, as I was really run down and had symptoms in January and February. If that were true, I would not need to be quarantined now. Hoping for a simple antibody blood test, which the government is working on. 




​So, after nearly a month of this, I've realized...
1. My puppies are true angels
2. I miss my students and school life so much! 
3. BUT...my pain levels have not changed, but my level of suffering has gone down. I can address pain when it comes vs. pushing through the bads all the time. 
4. I need a lot of sleep to function and not be exhausted all of the time
5. Facebook, texts, and the Internet is a lifeline
6. Being a pack rat has its advantages
7. My house is still a mess, and I can't blame not having the time. And it is ok because no one is over here but me!
8. The photo I posted on this page a while ago is very telling -- exhausted, grumpy, old haggy. Will be replaced. 
9. Spring will be here, regardless of the pandemic.
10. I will always have more art in my head and heart than I have time and energy to create. The extra time is invaluable...stay tuned! 

Be safe, everyone.

Day 4 of this social distancing dance. Ain't easy. Drove by Bunks and had to use two hands to not turn the wheel and bang in for a coffee. I only went out to pick up cat food that I ordered online, really!

They gotta eat.  Speaking of which, now I have time to tend to my kitties better, and I think Theo needs a vet visit to make sure he is aging in a healthy way. Seems a wee bit too frail lately. As my awesome vet is like family to me, I count her in my family circle, I will be bringing up my pets to her. Puppy has to get vaccs, Teddie needs her lepto shot series. What's one more visit with a kitty? At this point...

The past three days have been both good and bad. Bad, as watching the big red dots spread across the nation's map like unruly bloodstains has been unnerving to say the least. The numbers look so low...but we know that the numbers only represent the tested, and there are 60-80% more people that have the illness but haven't been tested. This reminds me so much of King's The Stand, the hugely long book Iread in the summer of 8th grade. The one that kept me up at night reading or dreaming scary dreams. This keeps me up, too. 

My neighbor has a cold, and I mean a cold. NOT the corona. Can I prove it? Nope. But she has a runny nose. My other neighbor and I have had runny noses for about six weeks. Allergies, cold. whateva. Breathing is fine. It makes you paranoid though. I think back a couple weeks ago when I had pain in my lungs and said as much to my friend, and laughed as it was a weird thing to describe. And headaches. And just felt so, so tired and worn out, couldn't sleep enough. Was it Corona? Or Was it February and March? We will never know. As a "sicky" immuosupressed individual I suppose I was supposed to get very sick. Put another check in the "She's a tough old broad" column. 

The timing of all these things amazes me. I can't believe that Tessa came and I was able to get her before all of this lock-in stuff started. If I had thought I'd have the time to gently raise this puppy with constant care and love (i.e. spoiling) I'd never have believed it.  She is adorable and I love her. I thank GOD I have a house full of critters to keep me company and connected to something besides my phone. I also thank GOD that I am an artist and can never have too much free time on my own. I feel bad for people who live alone without pets. Without hobbies, too. Unimaginable at this point. 

Yesterday was a beautiful day outside. I walked the dogs, talked to neighbors at a distance, and let the puppies run their little hearts out. There is an electricity in the air that is fear...fear of each other, fear of hurting each other unknowingly. I wanted to work on a textile piece, but just couldn't. Too antsy. Instead, I made paper flowers on my Cricut, using old books for the paper. It was theraputic and relaxing. After an hour I realized I didn't even have an audiobook on...go Cricut. Now that I've broken the ice on getting lost in artwork, I plan on tackling the big piece today. It is going to be a long one and I have NO EXCUSE not to get going on it.  Besides, today is rainy. Puppy will get wet if I take her out! 

My good art pals and I used Zoom last night to have a video chat. It was great to see everyone even if the tech is a bit choppy. I miss my friends and the laughter that happens when we get together. At least we can video chat as a group now. They want me to teach them something online...wellllll...!? They have forgotten more than I'll ever know, so this is a nutty concept. 

I think I will be posting more, if only to catch the thoughts and things that are happening in these novel times. So, so strange. Be well, y'all. And keep washing those paws! 

The world is upside down, right now. The viral pandemic is spreading in the US, as expected. We are all asked to practice "social distancing" -- as in, stay the heck home, and away from other people, for two weeks. This is a very conservative estimate and I think this will continue for some time. While I am thrilled to have art time and rest time and puppy time, even I am skeeved out by all this. 

As someone who is on multiple immunosupressive meds, I am in the "uh-oh" camp should I catch this. What worries me the most is that I might catch it and not know it, though. This would mean I could potentially pass it on to the people in my life that I love, who I usually see frequently. Our dogs play together, we socialize all the time. Too risky now, plague has begun. My best friends are older and have medical issues themselves. Just to think that friendship could equal death for these people makes me shudder. I'm staying in, and away.  Local doctors are reporting seeing multiple unconfirmed cases of this and are almost literally shouting from the rooftops that this is not a joke, it is not exaggerated, and the threat is real. 

Yesterday I tried in vain to find bread flour in the grocery store. No flour, and I got the last few cans of "good kind" soup because they were pushed far back along the wall on the very bottom shelves. I got the last few bags of bird veggies, and will have to use them carefully. There was no bread. I filled the fridge and freezer with what I could, and that is that. Coffee, coffee cream, eggs, and a few frozen healthy meals, and we will get through this. I grateful to not be a big foodie-type. I will miss going out with friends, though! Feels so strange. 

I also made a couple important stops before shutting in...AC Moore and Joanne Fabrics. Damage was done. AC Moore is closing, and while I have told my friends repeatedly to not let me bring another damn bead into this house, they were not with me and I did bad things there. My receipt said I saved $729, so I think I did well. I did not deplete the budget at all -- things were just too inexpensive to refuse. Man, I love my beads. Am starting to run out of the Turkish Hoarde from my married years, so I must think practical now. !! 

It has been my practice for years to make one small equipment purchase a year to push me into new creative territories and keep me learning. Usually done after taxes come in, I've purchased screen printing kits, computer fabric, a felting machine, etc. I never regret learning new things. At AC Moore I found a ton of gorgeous copper iron on film for Cricut...so yesterday I got the Cricut Easy Press 2, 9"x9". I hope to make interesting fabrics and effects with this little thing. Not inexpensive, but not over the top either. 

The sense that "forced alonement" has arrived. As an artist, I am happy. As a new pet momma, I am happy. As a neighbor, friend, and teacher; as an aunt, friend, and sister, I am worried. As a patient, I am a bit more worried than I'd like to be. Hoping for an uneventful two weeks on the health front, for all. Peace out. 

Photo below by my cousin, who is trying in vain to find TP for her family. Jeesh!