Friday, April 17, 2015

Random Thoughts on a Friday Evening

Phil is out of town. Has been all week. We have a few more days until he returns . . . and I can't wait. My brain is full. This happens from time to time. I sit in silence, but the thoughts keep coming at me full force. I can't work them all out. Usually, when he is in town, I can bounce them off him. He listens (or maybe sometimes doesn't), but he is physically there receiving them. Right now, not so much. 

So I am sitting in my living room this very minute, windows open with a gentle breeze coming in and out, the sounds of cars driving by, birds singing, neighbors talking, and my own two girls playing Barbie's all taking place in the background. 

And me . . . the mind is just going. 

So I thought I would capture these thoughts . . . as many as I could . . . in no particular order.

Thoughts like . . . 

I am so grateful for that dishwasher. I wonder how many times other people run theirs? I wonder how often people have to get new machines. What is the going age of a dishwasher if you run it, say, two times a day, every day? ▫️ Ooooo, someone is grilling. That smells so good, I wonder who that is. ▫️I should really get dinner ready. We have left over Spamwiches and I made that layered fiesta dip. Is that an appropriate dinner? I don't even feel hungry. But I have to feed the girls. ▫️ I wonder why I'm not hungry. I am exhausted. Why am I so exhausted? Is it because I worked and taught art this week? I am so drained right now. I feel like I could fall asleep. It's only 5:30. I think it's too much sugar. Damn easter baskets. ▫️ Is it wrong to say "damn" when referencing easter baskets? Do I really care right now? ▫️ What is Ella doing? Who is she saying 'stop!' to? (Two second pause to check on the girls. They are playing Barbies. Ella's girl is arguing with Katie's girl. Therefore, the 'stop' is part of their whole act.) ▫️ I love that magnolia tree. It looks so beautiful. It is one of my favorite parts of Spring here. Poor Phil, he is usually out of town each year when it blooms. Then there is a big storm, and all the petals fall off. ▫️ Damn, whoever is grilling, it smells delicious. I suddenly have a taste for a burger, but not any burger. I want THAT burger. The one someone is making outsid - this very minute. ▫️We need a new screen door. Imagine the smell I would have of that delicious grilled burger if our screen was in our door. I want to paint our front door red. We don't have a house with a huge amount of character. Can I do that? Paint our door red? Or is that crazy? Do I really mind if it is crazy. I just think I want a red front door. I wonder if I could do it before Phil comes home. I wonder if he would mind. Maybe I should wait. ▫️ The girls are arguing. I can hear them. Of course they are arguing. They have been playing nicely for the past hour. Certainly, it wouldn't last. ▫️ I like David Sedaris. I want to write a book. Stories, really. Then I want to tell them to people. I want to stand on a stage to tell people stories. I don't want to be a comedianne, although some of the stories would be funny. Most of the stories would be funny. But I don't want to do this at, like, a comedy club, I would like to do this someplace else. Like . . . Carnegie Hall.  I mean, aim high, right? ▫️ They're arguing again. Of course they would be. I am dreaming of Carnegie Hall. Maybe I should take notes, this might be good story telling.  The grilling smell has faded. I bet someone on the block has already eaten their delicious burgers. Damn burgers. ▫️ I should go feed my children. Maybe they are hungry. Yes, I bet that could be it. Maybe once they eat, we can take a walk . . . clear our minds . . . that would be so nice a clear mind . . . Lord, what a thought. I can't even imagine. 


Peace, dear friends.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

My Red Feathered Friend

A cardinal has been hanging around my house lately. 

Last week he visited for three mornings in a row, usually around 7am. I heard him chirping away, calling out for his friends, as I sat at the kitchen table taking my first few sips of coffee. 

Each day I tried to take a photo of him. The one above was the best I could take - because each time I pulled out the 'real' camera (with the awesome zoom lense), he'd fly away. Almost as if he was saying, "Nope, I am not here for that. I am here just for you." 

I got smart, and started to leave the camera on a little end table in my living room - with camera out of bag and lense already on, I was ready for his close-up. 

He didn't come by the two days following.

Darn Bird.  

So me, my Cardinal, and my little iPhone camera meet up. 

I love when he comes by. Because I feel like he is my Dad, checking on me. Just letting me know that he is around. 

I still need my Dad from time to time. 

It has probably been five years since my Dad was in one of my dreams. But this morning, I woke up crying . . . because this morning, he appeared. 

Ever have one of those dreams that you don't want to wake up from? 

That was me. Today. 

I dreamt that I was working at Holy Cross Hospital (an old employer of mine). I was working on the 5th floor - the telemetry floor. It was crazy busy in my dream, and I was sitting at a large round table with a husband and wife who were there visiting someone. I was talking to them, and all of a sudden I looked up - and there was my Dad, sitting right across from me. He wasn't looking at me - he was looking just past me - but I tried to get his attention, as this woman sitting next to me continued talking on and on. Occasionally we'd make eye contact, my Dad and I, and I told the woman next to me, "that's my Dad. That man, he is my Dad." He smile at me a few times. Someone came up to him and I heard him say my husbands name. "Phil," he said. I heard my fathers voice, a voice I haven't heard in over 12 years. And he said Phil. 

How strange is that? 

I could tell, at that moment, that I was starting to wake up in the real world. And I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to leave the dream. I didn't want to leave my Dad. 

So I cried. 

And I woke to tears falling down my face. 

He looked so good. So healthy. So alive. 

And then, he was gone. 

This morning, I sat down for my cup of coffee, and heard my Red Feathered Friend outside again. My eyes filled up with tears. I didn't go and look at him today. But just knowing that he was nearby meant the world to me. 

Wishing you, and all your feathered friends, Peace. 


Monday, April 6, 2015

Achy heArt


There are not enough hours in the day. 

No where near enough hours in the day. 

And certainly not enough hours in my day . . . to make art

Today, I felt it. This ache in the pit of my stomach. It happened around 6:10pm, after I arrived home from work and before I walked out the door to Ella's Brownie meeting. It was somewhere between stuffing Goldfish crackers in plastic sandwich baggies for their snack, or preparing for their Brownies art project by cutting plastic flowers off of stems. But somewhere around that time, I caught a glimpse of a mixed media piece hanging on my kitchen wall, and I felt this ache start inside of me. 

I miss my art. 

I've been in a creative black hole since the holidays. Once everything was done with the holiday fairs and vendor shows, I packed up one plastic bin of remaining art work and product, and closed the lid on the 2014 season. Since then, I have focused on the new job and home life - which I am discovering leaves very little time for anything else. 

Aching feeling, again. 

So, I need to find time for it. Some way. Some how. Because I can't go back to the life I had before. Before I found my art. Before I found me. 

I don't know how to do it all . . . I'm exhausted as it is. 

But I miss it. 

I miss me. 

So, tonight it begins. 

A new blog post. An updated blog header. A plan for some creative time this weekend ("the when").

Stay tuned, friends. I haven't figured out the "how" or "what", but I know that I haven't forgotten my passion. And with that - this creative life journey continues.   

Wishing you happy days, and lots and lots of peace. 

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