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!

Well, the Old Crone travelled to Pennsylvania and got the puppies, with teddie in tow! Could not have done it without the help of my friend Tim, who took care of Ellie and the Farm. Thanks also to my good friends from PA, Diane and Mike, who met us at the hotel and took us to the breeders, then hung out with us as we got to know our new little ones. And enormous thanks to the other puppy-getters, Lynn and Guy, who arranged for two super hotel rooms and while Lynn was unable to go on the trip, Guy did a great job driving the entire way. To and from, from Saturday A.M to arriving home Sunday at noon. That is A LOT OF HOURS to be behind the wheel. Thanks and love to everyone who helped Baby Tessa come home! 

Immediately, Teddie grew. Once the little one was in my hand, really, one hand, her diminutive size made Teddie look full grown. All the way down to PA she was my little baby, my tiny pup, my young girl. Once Tessa was on the scene, Teddie seemed like a full grown dog - young, maybe, but not my tiny pup. So strange how that happens. She was amazing in the car on the way down, and the trip gave me quality time with her, at least on the way down. She came into the bathroom stall somewhere in CT and was able to balance on the toilet paper roll dispenser attached to the wall, so she must still be small enough! Not a peep out of her all the way down and all the way back. She just slept, as did the puppies. It was truly amazing! 

There really is nothing like a maltese puppy. Soft, fluffy, brilliant white fur. Tiny little button nose. Bunny hop jumpies when excited. Sweet little kisses. If I could keep Tessa this small forever I would. She is so completely lovable it is unbelievable. Her nature is what the breeder described -- mellow and calm. When I need to leave her in her pen, she cries twice then goes to sleep. When I hold her, she goes limp in my arms (as did her Daddy, Finley) and will stay in cuddle mode for endless hours. Today we played outside in gorgeous 75 degree weather, and I can confirm that she does have legs and can run! She weighs a whopping 2.9lbs at 8 weeks (Teddie was 2.4 at 9 weeks) but isn't really overweight. She is a perfect little love ball and once again I am overwhelmed with love and appreciation for all this breeder has done with her doggies. Such fine little babies, both of them! 

Somewhere near NYC I realized I'd brought my stitching, but had no needle. We got off the highway when we saw a Michaels sign, but could not for the life of us figure out how to drive to the front of the store so that I could just run in and get one. We gave up and carried on. Note to self: I can survive a long ride without stitching. Maybe it was because I had Teddie on my lap the whole time. If she hadn't been there...might not have been the same!

Now that the puppy is here safe and sound, with her dear little cousin Rudy living a few blocks away, I can rest easy and focus energies on art again. The art piece for the museum is well underway, and I have multiple classes booked at Michaels for the next few months. More classes might crop up at Staples, too -- but I have concerns over the local impact of Coronavirus, and am waiting another week to book them. 

At this point, I'm still fighting the exhaustion from the trip, and before the trip, and the time change, too. Early to bed, to cuddle my girls, and catch up a bit. Ellie is happy, Teddie is happy, and while Tessa seems a little confused (dopey puppy!), I think she will be happy, too. Good night! 

When I was a little girl in the colorful classrooms at Woburn Street School, and then at Parker Junior High, I had no idea what life would bring. None. Never thought about it, really. Little did I know that so many years later I am blessed to be friends with kids from that era. The shared beginning has led to connections at this late point in life, and it is fascinating to me how because of these early memories, people can pick up where they left off, in a way. Teddie has led to two renewed friendships, and the BFF of my adulthood stemmed from my third grade classroom. Why is it that this shared experience, which is random when you think about it, can lead to trust and friendship forty years later? I am happy that it does. 

Getting excited to bring Teddie's puppy, Tessa, home in just three weeks! It will be an amazing experience to actually get to go down to PA to get her, and to meet her lovely breeder, not to mention her gorgeous parents. I can't wait! Anyone that doesn't think dogs matter has never walked in my shoes. Teddie has brought me so much hope and joy, it is remarkable. Never underestimate the power of a perfectly timed, perfectly behaved puppy. May Tessa be as wonderful. the breeder says she s even better, but I find that hard to believe. 

School vacation is upon me and I am facing a massive to-do list and a wicked pain flare up stemming from my back and from the RA. The new RA med is due tomorrow, but I have yet to have it arrive from the pharmacy (yet they've had over a month to get this going...smh) so I will have to go to the doc's office to get the shot. Not sure if it is working and just wears out at two weeks, or if this is just more trouble from my back. Hate to whine but this one is pretty miserable. Oh sciatica, joint pain, and neuropathy, you suck.  I think of what I WANT to do and what I CAN do, and the gap just widens. Feet are swollen like clown shoes, nerve pain in the toes is off the charts. Hard to tell what is causing what. Sigh. 

I will be working on the piece based on the Baldishol Tapestry for the Norway House Museum now. It is ready to go on my wall, but I can't seem to stand or sit enough to get deep with it. Maybe this week. I've decided to go with a section of the original, updated with digitally printed fabrics and lots of embellishment, and maybe dimensional birds leaving the flat space. Will be a challenge! Maybe today...maybe today.  Right now it hurts my legs and back to even breathe, if that is believable. Also, a seriously messy Gelli Print session is long overdue, and the Cricut is whimpering for attention, too. I really hope things get better so I can dig in and use this time for what I really WANT to be doing. 

Time to get the Limpy the Town Turkey memorial ideas organized, too. Looking forward to going through the ideas people shared and preparing a poll for all to take regarding the way forward. Will be interesting to see what people want to do! Lots of creative ideas out there. Not to mention the Limpy book I want to publish that will feature a dear friend's illustrations. Limpy, with all the headaches happening with town politics, we need you back. Reading made the national news again, this time for a ridiculously unpredictable comment made by a member of our select board. Bizarre to say the least.  It is going to be a long few weeks until the Select Board vote on March 3rd. People in Reading are angry.  I am confused by it and hate to think that there are people who are trying to manipulate local politics to promote their own political beliefs, rather than what is best for the town, but it seems like this is what is happening. Terrible. 

​Cheers! 

The other day I posted a photo of myself to this blog. Not sure if it will stay. Tim says I look to pensive, which is a kind word to use. I think I look tired and old...but wait...I AM tired and old! We shall see.  What a battle-axe. 

This morning I am listening to something that is truly amazing. Marc Almond's new album, Chaos and the Dancing Star, came out yesterday. I adore his work, but honestly haven't gotten too much out of his newest releases. Great work compared to so much else we hear today, but not as poignant and audibly delicious as he is capable of, vocally and lyrically. 

Man, this record blows my socks off. 

First couple songs had me almost in tears, beyond my control. Now THAT is music. He describes this album as a romantic view of the apocalyptic world we seem to be living in today. It is masterful. His lyrics are spot on, and he is singing so, so well. The album title is based on the Nietzche quote: 

"I say unto you: one must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. I say unto you: you still have chaos in yourselves. Alas, the time is coming when man will no longer give birth to a star. Alas, the time of the most despicable man is coming, he that is no longer able to despise himself.

Isn't that the truth about art? When things are going well, sometimes meaningful art is elusive. When we live through times of stress, self-doubt, or challenge, and our internal stress increases, that energy translates to art. As my life has gotten easier in some ways and I have learned that I can not push my sick body 24/7 like I did for so many years (the years when I produced 8+ large pieces a year), I produce work more slowly. It is not less meaningful, if anything it is more reflective of that chaos. We all produce those dancing stars, don't we? 

Happy to say Reality and Other Obstacle Courses is now complete and sent off to my tutor for the City and Guilds course I am taking. This weekend I am glad to being making the next piece. I will be bathed in Marc's heavenly voice and sage interpretation of this thing called life as I embark on another creative journey. Around me will be a million things that need doing...the errands, chores, and mundane demands of life. Sing on my Muse, Marc Almond. Onward to another Dancing Star, despite the list that never stops growing. Cheers.