Rainbow Fairy!

This week has been one of those busy beyond weeks, where the kids are doing midterms, the art studio is a mess, everyone has is ready for a break but there is a ton of work to yet be done....so needless to say, when I come home from school each day, the first thing on my mind is a nap.  

My beloved Mr. Owens understands that- a cool glass of tea is waiting, the bed is turned on, and I am down for an hour before dinner.  Then we can eat and talk and watch tv and draw- our time together, Turrello on his lap, Max (all 55 lbs. of him) on mine.  But...there have been mysterious visits this week!

And one more word of explanation- Ever since ever I have slept with a 'little pillow'.  The original one I had as a baby, and kept it for years until it vanished somewhere along my travels.  Then I was without one- made due with other pillows- until the magic auction a few years ago when the manz asked me out for the first time. I acquired a feather one there- originally intended for max, because it had a pink rosebud casing- but I cleaned it and quickly fell back in love with it.  (Almost as fast as I ended up falling in love with Mr. Owens).  I've slept with it ever since-

So Tuesday night this week, I had a long day- classes all day, a project to finish for ECU, live class online that night.  I got home late, had my tea and a snack, then went to bed.  In the process of getting tucked in (another ritual that I have had forever) I discovered my little pillow was all lumpy and smelled of leather.  I investigated to discover that the Rainbow Sandal Fairy had left a new pair of green rainbows tucked inside the pillow case!  Mr. Owens was about to die laughing watching me- I've needed a new pair forever, and not only are these the best sandals in the universe, but green as well....Oh, fabulous day!

Thursday was another day where a nap was immediately needed after school- the last day before break, the kids wild as ever, the studio a disaster (which I will have to tackle today), and the combination of pollen, printmaking ink, noise and weather resulting in a massive headache with sniffles.  I went straight home from school (leaving the mess, which I never do), to my husband, glass of tea and quiet house.  Crawling into bed there was another package- a t-shirt hidden between the sheets.  Brown and covered with moths, and with the bonus of stickers in the package.... Another addition to my wardrobe, which is apparently defined by lots of brown, grey, pink, green and oddly colored shoes.   Which is all perfectly me.

After the nap, we had dinner (lovely fishes, he makes the best fish for me- talapia baked with garlic, green peppers and onions in a sweet/spicy bbq light sauce), then watched some shows while cuddling our lap animals (my 'poodle' needs a bath- he digs down into the dirt under the azalea  bushes and comes in covered with azelas...but not smelling so fresh).  Soon enough, I was ready for bed.... and not expecting anything to be in the bed I flopped right down then leaped back up. There, tucked between the sheets, was my nemesis- the ear drops.  And a very, very amused Mr. Owens..... for even though I know I need them, they are something I always try to talk my way out of- for they are cold, and once in I can't hear anything, and they make my ear feel slimy...but he always makes me take them, makes sure I stick to Dr. Lori's orders (we see her this morning btw), and do what I'm told.... and it is appreciated.  I am willing to put up with the bad to earn the good, and I am lucky that I have a husband who cares so very much. 

Curiosity

Shelf in studio with Sea Turtle skull

I should have my own museum, or, at very least, cabinet of curiosities.  Actually I suppose our whole house, and my office and classroom, would qualify as the later- our decorating style is 'early eclectic' with a combination of old things, lots of books, oddities and folk art- with my art stuff tossed in for good measure.  It is all the strange things I love, things that inspire thoughts and stories and the imagination.  So that visitors- in my mind- would ponder, and wonder, and think about all these curious things.  Become curious- I think that is my hidden mission in life, to wake up people's curiosity.   For me, that is even more important than creativity~ if I ever stop being curious about things then, my friend, then you know something is terribly wrong.

I found this turtle skull at a thrift store out in the country in Rocky Point- I was going with Donna to pick up some things at the middle school, and she spotted a table for her new house.  The skull was on a top shelf, the guy only wanted $5 for it- and Donna lent me the money without question.  (Hooray for friends that understand!)  Of course, it is not exactly within the law to sell skulls of endangered creatures- but the fellow had no clear idea of what it was, it had been hanging out forever, and such a find~  I do have a whole skeleton (minus the skull) that I found on the beach up at Corolla long ago- but that is a green turtle and this (I am fair certain) is a Loggerhead.  Oddly enough, shortly afterwards Mr. Owens started exploring our driveway and found not one, but two, small fossilized turtle heads. We must be receiving some message or blessing from the turtles of the world~ synchronicity of this nature is rarely by chance.

And so, time for a confession and a releasing of guilt.  Which is a different subject entirely, but I am stressing about it so here goes.  Because of my job, I am asked to do quite allot of things at school.  Big things, small things, important things and trivial-but-needed things.  Every year I expect band backdrops, homecoming, prom, graduation, springfest.... at the very least.  Then people ask me to do things for other events, and being a human pushover, I usually agree...then promptly forget, or put it off, or live in a state of denial because I really don't want to do it.  So, long story short, the ROTC has formal inspection today, and asked forever ago if we could do an art show in the library, have jugglers from theater, have the band play.... the food classes are cooking lunch, tables are set up, everything all spit and polish.   Of course, I forgot to tell my kids about the art show, and when I did- before I was gone for most of last week- they didn't do anything.  Which really isn't their fault, because I didn't make it a priority.  So no art for the show, save one drawing with a patriotic theme from long ago  (I do have a host of social-awareness art with political themes, but they are not the most..... ah....  suitable in message).   And LC has no jugglers, or one act play, or anything.  Donna does have the band ready to play some of their Spring music... and I feel so guilty for not having our bells and whistles in a row.  And no centerpieces either.  And when I feel guilty, I get uber cranky and tired- I just want to sleep and avoid everything (I am sleepy as I write, despite the coffee and morning meds)- I just want to fast forward through this day with my head hung in shame of not-being-perfect.  But you know what?  I get tired.  And some things I just don't want to do- I want to do *my* stuff instead.  Which is selfish, I know, but.... it would be nice sometimes if I had the backbone to just say 'No, that is not what I'm good at.'

So- a list- I am NOT good at: art shows, social events (attending, creating, organizing, even supporting- this is a nightmare), the press/media, lettering on posters (I can't spell and I dislike doing lettering), measuring and cutting things in straight lines, being the behavior police (at lunch, in halls, as a chaperon etc.), going on field trips (I get bus sick, and would rather go by myself ), selling things/fund raising, faculty get-togethers (which seem to always involve bowling, or baby showers or green church punch)... bleah.

What I am GOOD at, LOVE to do, and will put effort into:  writing, research, curriculum, teaching, making things, painting, technology, speaking in public, teaching workshops, talking to students, organizing physical spaces, attending workshops, volunteering for committees- as long as I am behind the scenes and not in charge of the fuzzy part of them-, thinking, solving problems creatively, coming up with ideas... working independently or in small groups... creating unexpected surprises and spontaneous activities. 

Now, how to get others to realize these things?  How do I learn how to say no, that isn't what I'm good at, but I will gladly do x?  And, importantly, say no without wringing myself out with guilt and stress... or say yes when I mean no, then hate the whole project.  This I think is a question for Dr. Mike~  and I'm thinking that I am at a position in my career/life where I am secure enough to be honest in this way- I just need to find the most politic way to do it.  And in the meantime, I will be spending the day hiding from JROTC and painting prom backdrops.... atonement for my sins of neglect.

Everything Connects

One of my sketchbook spreads from the endless rounds of meetings last week- I'm thinking that it was from Monday's DPI meeting.  After awhile though, the water pitchers tend to look the same.... people like to sit by/behind me at meetings to watch me take notes.  It may *look* like doodles or not paying attention, but this is how I think, and how much more would I of retained from school if I had been allowed to do this all along- from the get go, instead of being exiled to the hall for a messy desk and unorganized notebook.  I remember painstakingly recopying my notes over and over again so they looked like Linda Rovders, who was the 6th grade paradigm of neatness and order.  Left to my own devices, my 7's and Z's were crossed, drawings meshed with words and my handwriting shifted dramatically.  My messy desk was filled with scraps of stuff, papers, crayon bits, things I held on to for one reason or another- not that neatness isn't a virtue, but...well, I would of gone for the organized desk I think if I was allowed to keep my notes the way they were.  But according to school it was wrong, and I struggled with that all the way up to college 2, where Dr. Suggs introduced us to the concept of sketchbooks as notebooks.  And looking back, my first sketchbooks (the college ones, not the old sketchbooks- for I had kept drawing sketchbooks all along) were compartmentalized, timid.... lots of boxes drawn around information which was another thing I did to accommodate my notes way-back when. (boxes around notes was *also* unacceptable and I had to recopy... so was underlining and if highlighting would of been invented, that no doubt would of been as well).

     But this is how I think.  In pictures and words all tumbled together, and when I am drawing I am thinking and translating the information my way.  I can look at this and remember the discussion, the references- and yes, the water picture.  (and confession- I was pretending that I didn't know what meeting this was from, but that is a lie- I know exactly.  DPI at the Mad Boar, discussing ES for the zillianth time.  The supposedly 'big epiphany' of the meeting was the realization that 'everything connects'- something else I could of told you long ago.)

     Everything does connect.  In my mind, there are not compartments between math and science, art and history and music and cooking and ....everything.  It leads into one another, intersects in the most delightful ways, and some connections I understand, some I just see, some I have yet to discover.  But the all of it is there for the looking- and all you have to do is pick a string and follow it.   Easy.  The only danger in it is a) getting to deep into the connections and thus losing time and b) people looking at you weird when you try to seriously explain that you can connect 'Someone in the Kitchen with Dinah"  to African Diaspora, Japanese marketing strategies and pre-Victorian London....and modern cartoons, though most people get that part. It all goes together in my brain...and sometimes I get all tangled up trying to explain that.  And when I teach students, it is the weird bits they love to know, so I'm always tossing that in.  Especially if it is surprising, generally unknown and vaguely naughty.  (Or what does Walt Disney, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Barbie dolls have in common?) But enough of that.

     Today is a day where I have to work.  Yesterday I ended up with a rest day, mostly sleeping (and dreaming in Swedish with subtitles, which is strange even for me), watching tv with the manz, painting in my sketchbook (different from the thinking pages, but painting while I watch a show- how I relax the best).  Napping.  A bit of thinking, but nothing seriously productive- and today I need to remedy that through concentration, focus, incentive.  It is almost spring break, and there is allot of ground to cover before then~

The Southland in the Springtime

     Friday took me to Winston-Salem and SECCA (Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art) for yet another meeting.  SECCA is at least a four hour drive, so I was off early at 4:30 to be there by 8:30 ish, and did not return home until late- but I love to drive and to be places I haven't been, and to see everything in bloom is wonderous.  As for the meeting itself, it was a recap of things I mainly already knew, plus a shift once again in course standards for next year, and highlighted student performances from one of the local schools.  The art was good, the chorus sang, dancers danced dances about body image and the theater troupe performed a short curious play about the Mary Celeste (which I rather liked).  The highlight of the meeting though was the food~ which included huge amazing slices of New York style cheesecake.  SECCA itself is mainly a re-purposed mansion,  made of stone, slated with slate, with an auditorium and gallery space added on.  There is a small park with a lake, and all around are wandering geese.  The front of the grounds is carpeted with myrtle and violets- blooming in blue, purple, white- crabapple trees, weeping Japanese cherry, dogwoods, others I don't know the name of.  The required allotment of pansies and tulips.  Wild intrusion of yellow Jessamine vines (no, not Jasmine, Jessamine. It grows everywhere, is beautiful, smells wonderful and slightly lemony, and is seriously poisonous). 

         I'm not so great at a day of sitting still and listening though- even when cheesecake is involved- inaction makes me weary.  This morning I woke up ready to work- or so I thought- but am now tired and wanting a nap (and it is not quite 7!) but I do think I will go back to bed for a bit.  They are calling for afternoon rains, so that will be a good time to write while the manz watches movies, and I hope to get some work done in the yarden this weekend.  He has been busy all week planting flowers- snapdragons and thrift, lavender, petunias, mums, carnations, glads- and finding me treasures.  Shells and shark teeth, the fossil skull of a turtle, other bits of long ago.  Everything outside is covered in a tangle of wisteria and jessamine, azaleas, the dogwoods- this is our most beautiful time of the year. It has been summery warm and soft with slight rain that blows over quickly, the market is full of strawberries and all I want to do is feel the sun and make things.  I love the spring, the summer- the growing part of the year.

Story of the Grey Girl

Once upon a time, long ago when I was small, we would occasionally travel the coast in California.  Up past Cayucos, then Harmony, Cambria, San Simeon, past Esselan- all the way up to Carmel. The road is narrow and beautiful, clinging to the cliffs beside the sea, twisting and curving above the rocks and groves.  Far down below are beaches that are hidden, inaccessible but sometimes you can see the waves, the shore covered with rocks, kelp and elephant seals.  Fog comes up and drifts over everything, and everywhere there is the smell of sea and scrub.  When we drove this, I loved the way it looked and smelled, longed to get out and get down to those beaches (not possible, except some brave jade pickers and abalone divers went there sometimes), was queasy all the way- sometimes now I dream of driving it, of heading off above Cambria, exploring places I never stopped at.

I don't know where we were going or why, I don't remember who was there besides Mother, but it was on one of these trips that we saw the grey girl.  I know I was young- young enough to play with dolls in the backseat, young enough to shift attention between my made up worlds and the real world, play and windows and trying not to throw up.  We were crossing the Bixby Bridge (I think it was, it may of been another one of these graceful canyon spanners, but I'm thinking it was Bixby because I remember a park-historical-type sign) and I remember it as being one of those days that was grayish, yet bright.  Fog around below, but not dense- more wispy.  The girl (woman?) was standing on the bridge, leaning on the rail, looking out to sea.  Not in a touristy way but a desolate way- aura of mystery and profound grief- or maybe I am imagining it.  She had on a head scarf, a coat of some kind- it is vague in my mind like a film shot, but I know it was real enough, even if my details are wrong.  I remember Mother talking about her off and on for years afterwards, about who she might of been, how she got there, what her story was.  I've thought of her often as well, is she ghost or spirit or just a girl in the mist. 

         It was that time of the century when there were still hippies all along the coast, Big Sur and Little Sur, and people still drifted there in search of their souls. Encampments of art cars and school buses, dead heads following festivals, scent of sandalwood and tofu was still new.  - a certain kind of casualness, a curiosity but it was being tempered by the slow change into the next decade, where economics replaced activism, disco flash out shown bonfires, and the culture of the country turned in a different direction.  There are a lot of missing/unidentified women listed in the databases for that time- leaving their lives to find themselves elsewhere, victims of predators, other reasons unexplained.  I wonder if she was one of them~ I remember finding some similar story once in the data bases, but I can't locate it this morning and haven't time to search.  It's funny though how seeing something like the photo of Bixby Bridge can summon up these stories~ make me think of it so strongly that I know I will spend a bit of time searching for her again later, and tonight I will dream of her standing at the edge of the world. 

Prom

I have never been to prom- ever- not even in high school.   In high school a few friends and I went out to dinner etc. instead~ we were not the popular prom-going types and had yet to evolve from nerds to geeks.  (geeks are cooler than nerds, and we all did successfully transform).  Anyway, much like the first boy I kissed and the first boy I dated, my not-prom date turned out to be very successful  in life and gay.  Ah well, at least that trend stopped there- (as far as I know...)

Being the art teacher though I have made my share of prom backdrops and decorations.  They tend to all cycle through the same themes: Paris (with the Eiffel tower/ cafe scene), Midnight/Twilight in the garden (cue pillars, fake trees and lots of Christmas lights), Mardi Gras/Masquerade (gaudy and involving extra amounts of glitter/masks), City (actually, the city theme can become: Hollywood- add stars, movie lights, snap boards, Roaring Twenties- toss in a few token flappers,  Times Square/NY- add street signs)...and that's about it.  For some reason we never do beach themes (though you think that would be easy and suitable for us, being near the sea and all~)....and this year it is back to Mardi Gras.  (last year was Paris, year before Twilight, before that Masquerade).   So the seniors are cranky a bit at it being a) a recycled theme and b) in the gym instead of elsewhere.   For once we are not paying out a kabillion dollars to rent a hall in the city- we are cutting back and doing it the old-school decorate the gym way.  Which I think is thrifty and cool, but the kids are dubious that it will be special enough.   So...prom being April 21, I have been given the task: MAKE BACKDROPS and DECORATIONS.  With the promise that the prom committee will help, but what that really translates to is that I can either 1) wait for them to show up after school, then sheppard them on their endless trips to the bathroom, out for snacks, and cleaning up messes  or 2) just do it myself.   Which I actually love- I love painting big, and backdrops are my only opportunity (the canvases have been painted and repainted a thousand times), and I turn on the music and paint.  I don't mind even if the kids are in class- they watch me and learn by watching, which is cool.  I'm in the mood and ready to get started- spent all morning so far researching images and different ways to approach this rather than the purple/gold/green giant masks and creepy jester.

     I started with the colors, and thinking peacocks, which are purple/gold/green but stylish- the kids like them.  I found images of feathers, Tiffany stained glass, other glass, just random ideas.  Then I drifted over to New Orleans painters images of Mardi Gras- which are interesting- I like one parade scene in particular.  And I like the style of Alphonse Mucha, art deco look.  Combining the three, I am thinking to create door panels for the entrance as Peacock 'stained glass', side panels like above with the Mucha ladies (add a mask to her face, glitter and luminescent paint), the main panels the distant parade scene.  I found this tutorial on creating lanterns out of mason jars, so I am thinking the same thing will work with other glass bottles- alcohol inks, gold lacy Moroccan-type design over that, turn them upside down and plant them along the path.  Either put LCD lights inside of them or paint them with glow-stick stuff.  (Which we could also spray along the path- which is actually a sidewalk- ).  Bring in our host of stick trees, add lights, spanish moss, beads.  Drape tables in peacock purple/blue/green, gold trimmed plastic ware (clear with gold trim).  Table decorations- more of the votive lanterns (no candles, LCD), beads, doubloons, gold glitter spray (light).  Gaudy but not over the top- going for festive.  King cakes with treats baked inside, maybe a few voodoo dolls hidden about (hey, it is *me* doing this part of the show- and NOLA is nothing without some voodoo around).

I am actually excited- and if they shoot this down in favor of the creepy jester, I am going to be a sad, sad, puppy.

hand in heart

student print

Sometimes creativity has to go to ground and rest.  Yesterday, even though I had so very much to do, was one of those days- I simply could not stay awake.  I went back to bed soon after writing the blog, slept until noon, had a sandwich (thanks manz!) went back to bed, slept till almost 7, woke up for dinner and one episode of 'deep sea detectives' then back to bed until now.  And not a light sleep either, but one of those crashing the-house-could-burn-down-around-me type sleeps.  Solid, deep, highly textured dreams about a variety of things- dogs (Ruffian visited me! Yay!), driving down Old River Road on the way to the island, sea marshes full of birds and light, crumbly peanut-butter and chocolate breakfast bars that weren't as good as they looked (had that stale packaged taste to them), writing on a white board....and a few stress dreams- them moving my classroom into a doublewide that was old, did not have a working sink but had all the kitchen stuff and a moldy couch, no tables, no desks, no bathroom....no idea where to put students or my things.  And dreaming once again that they notified me of a mistake and that I would have to retake math in order for my college to count...and English I as well- which I was horrified at- I love to write and was so sure I passed it.  Relief this morning to wake up and know that I did! 

           And this morning it is time for coffee and yogurt and my neglected homework before todays workshop (DPI at Madboar...so a short drive and good lunch is ahead).  I am sure that is where my stress college dreams came from, have been neglecting those classes, finding it hard to get back into the rhythm after our trip.  And I am so ready for summer!

            Poor Mr. Owens misses me, I am sure.  I have been so away- and busy after school, late nights two days (Chorus concert and Registration) then off to Raleigh all day Saturday, and what do I do when I get home?  Sleep.  nothing but sleep- not the most liveliest of companions at all. This week should be better though, except I have the marathon trip to Winston on Friday unless he wants to come along- which would be fun if we spent the night then hit up the market in Raleigh on Saturday- might be a possibility if we are up for it.  It's the last of my meetings for awhile, and truthfully I am glad- I love going, going, going but I love to be home- and I'm ready for a rest.

Spring Fever, Greygardens and the gift of light

Light, NCMA

Yesterday adventure to Raleigh and the North Carolina Museum of Art where I am part of a 'think tank' for their new Art of Photography class which I will (hopefully) be able to teach online this fall.  It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm- St. Patricks Day- and we sat in the atrium meeting area downstairs to work.  The think tank was well organized and not a minute was wasted or dull- which is quite a challenge- we all stayed on task all the way to the end- including working right through lunch.  Which was thoughtfully provided- food at events like this tends to run from horrible (at DPI in Raleigh where they litterally gave us a loaf of white bread, bologna and mayo and told us to make our own sandwiches if we were hungry- and they had bottles of warm water) to elegant (at NCCAT where we had food prepared by the culinary students and glasses of local wine).  This food was very St. Patrick's day themed- fruit kabobs in the morning, with coffee (unfortunately bad- or maybe I have become the ultimate coffee snob, only liking my beloved Mexican Expresso)... the boxed lunch was a wrap (in honor of the day, corned beef and vinegar slaw on a spinach tortilla), an apple, a wonderfully soft huge oatmeal cookie with lots of raisins (my favorite cookie)... afternoon we had homemade brownies with mint chips and just a taste of Bailey's to them- cold water, soda and juice endlessly all day.  (There were also snackables all day- pretzels dipped in white chocolate with green sugar dust, sea salt chips, sugar cookies, popcorn with nuts- I was good and avoided these, though I *did* eat my cookie and a brownie).... and, as usual, I have spent time focusing on the food  first.  My addiction.

     The museum itself is lovely- surrounded by the largest museum park in the country with outside sculptures, a walking/biking trail, even a dog park.  We were there to work though, so we stayed in our area with computers, papers and our snacks, with only one brief foray into the upper museum to view the photography exhibit and hear one of the photographers speak.  (I like him- he was working in a pharmacy in New Jersey and being a self-taught photographer who ended up working on the Ellis Island project- documenting it before renovation.  Afterwards, he quit his job and moved to Raleigh with no money, no place to stay, no local connections because a friend said 'you look like someone who would be comfortable in NC'....and, after a bit of a struggle, he was.  He was well over 40 back then- foolish or brave?  Can't say, but it worked out obviously).  Lots accomplished, lots to do still for the teaching part- but it was fun, if a bit intimidating.

  I get intimidated by art museums- no lie, I don't care for them much- not because I don't like the art or am inspired by it, but just because I get to feeling all 'why didn't I do this?  How did I miss this boat?  Here is a person much younger than I am already in a major exhibit, in a major museum...how does that happen? Puzzled....and, admittedly, a bit angry at not knowing the keys to that kingdom.  And not sure why it is important- or what my role is as an artist.

    I've always made art, it is my response to things (along with collecting and sometimes writing).  I've been in shows, won shows, been collected...but I still feel like I am not *that kind of artist*.  I make things out of obsession and impulse, and because that is what I do- I am to lazy/scared/intimidated to market myself, or even begin to- and I really dislike working on commission.  And while I daydream sometimes of a life just making art, truth be told I don't think I could do it.  The stress of having to sell is immense, and being the support that would kill me in itself.  Even if it wasn't a problem, there is to much of a good thing, and I think that without some other kind of interaction that the mojo would dry up.  I get my best ideas when I am overly busy and thinking of a million different things- that is what builds connections- if I just have time to think about one thing, I dry up like a bone.  Same goes for school, research, teaching etc...I need lots of stimulation to be productive at my best.  So I am not that kind of artist- and that is ok.  I am my kind of artist, who someday will leave behind suitcases full of work (that is where I stow everything- in old suitcases) and sketchbook after sketchbook, thousands of photos saved in hardrives.  Either someone will want it all or not, and it will become trash or treasure or something else- but I know I've left some kind of mark behind with all this making.

But I like it to! Happy Birthday BS!

     Happy Birthday Big Sista!  Today is Barbies birthday, and she is in Texas visiting Mother- which is exactly where she wanted to be.  Mother is so important to all of us, and we (both Barbie and I) have been roadblocked in getting to visit in the last year.  Have fun, and eat some cake/icecream for me!

     Sisters are complicated, in a good way.  In someways they are mirrors of ourselves, of who we would like to be, who we are.  They are mirrors of our families, experiencing a different time and history that overlaps but is distinct to them- that is one reason why we tell stories constantly when we are together.  We share our memories and that forms a new whole, one with facets and perspectives that we understand in new ways as we get older.  That helps us to learn, and grow, and empathize- recreate and understand our past, redefine our present, inform our future.  I love my sisters for who they are, and who they help me to be~ as the youngest, I always looked up to both of them (still do) and want to emulate different aspects of their lives.

    Barbie is special- she has a natural ease with people, an ability to empathize, to become part of every conversation.  She is spiritual and giving, loves to be of service to others, is kind but can be quite fierce when she needs to be.  Her spirit is bright and active, always shining with energy and clean white light.  I have never known someone to love so passionately, intensely, with such a focus and brilliance.  And it doesn't matter what she loves- her husband, pets, family, friends, religion, books, work, home, memories, cleaning- she loves it with all of her heart.  There is no half-way about it, and nothing can stand in her way~ 

     So, Happy Birthday BS!  I miss you- we haven't seen each other much, due to distance and circumstances and the way the world worked in this last year- but know that I hold you close in my heart, dream of you often, and always, always wish you well.  I am sending you an imaginary birthday feast so close your eyes, remember way-back-when, and think of sweet and sour pork over rice, frozen fruit salad, cake frosted like Irish Spring soap, creme de mint parfaits, and snow on the windows.

Love you!

Mr. Owens has a Beard

 Mr. Owens has a beard...and is modeling my bear hat!  Cute, cute, cute... and this is why I am so happy to be home.  Soon it will be year 3 since we have been together, and we both have learned to adapt- and are still learning- but I know that I love my husband.  He is funny and smart and kind, and there is no doubt in my mind that he loves me.  I think he has learned how to let me go on adventures, and I have learned how to let him stay put~ not that we won't have adventures together, but we both have different sides of ourselves that need respected.  

It's funny, because when you first date someone and it is all head-over-heels, you try to be what you *think* they should like, figure out from clues and comments what they are attracted to and then mash that up with who you are.  It's human nature- and part of the greater mating game of everything that is alive- but eventually you have a choice to make:  revert to yourself, change permanently, or assimilate the two together.  I am thinking that this is why things have been hard for me sometimes- even though I love change, I fight so hard against letting anything/anyone change *me* except for me.  And at the root of it all, there is the insecurity.  (and I suspect that this is not only my story, but echoes in many women).

When we first started going out, I picked up on a few things and tried to be more...um...mature?  Looking like a grown-up?  I wore heels (one pair I loved, the other...well...never could take more than two steps in them), had my hair professionally dyed and styled (which was fun, but expensive- and straight hair and I don't get along well), tried to do the whole makeup/jewelry/'nice' look.  (as Melissa said the other day when we were in NYC: "Remember when you wore heels?  What was up with that?-  we were all busy being amazed at the native New Yorkers who can walk 20 kabillion miles in extremely high heels- and the obvious visitors trying-to-fit-in stumbling around with sore feet)   Point being, that I tried to change my look in order to be more appealing- but that was not me.   I've never quite learned how to play that type of beauty game, and have happily reverted to my combat boots (except they *are* pink), long skirts, blue jeans and tshirts.  My hair is a curly mess that gets dyed when I get around to it, and mostly at home (though I love getting it done at a salon).  My hands are always stained with paint, I don't wear jewelry except for the wedding rings and occasionally earrings, and makeup is touch-and-go.  But he loves me none the less, tells me I'm beautiful, and- you know what?  I feel more beautiful like this than when I am trying to be something I am not.   

Likewise, I do not need suits and ties (even though he wears them well and does like to dress up- but there is not an occasion to dress for here except for funerals)... I love, love, love his beard and long hair- and his fifteen million gray tshirts, worn soft with washing.  Attraction is a funny thing- and we are suited for each other. We have fallen into that comfort zone where we can look like ourselves and be happy about it....and I am content.

And once more~

One week ago we left New York to find our way home- I wish I had the time to write the stories as they happened, but I was more interested in *living* the story than recording it.  Which is the right choice, of course- if you don't live in your story, there is no story~  And yesterday I was trying to write, to think and it just wasn't happening so I went back to bed, woke up to breakfast, lounged around watching Crossing Jordan all morning with the manz, took another nap, then went to Walmart.  We came back with flowers, a grey lawnmower and inspiration- most of the front porch is cleared off, the stack of lumber is sold to the fellow down the street, lawnmower assembled and tons of things hauled off to the dump.  We were both tired, sore and very, very dirty last night~ but feeling hopeful.  Forsythia and grape hyacinths are blooming,  daffodils are about over, and the wisteria hasn't opened yet but is fully budded.  Hopefully today will warm up and we will finish that- and I will get the school work wrapped up this morning.  Time turning has thrown me off though- I am not ready for it to be 8:00~  I just want to operate on *my time*- I do well without clocks and calendars and lose time quickly when I am not paying attention.  When I have to pay attention- like during a presentation or at school- I get all anxious and am always calling the time....annoying.  I should much rather have things unfold as they will, and the day will take care of itself.

             New York was a wonder- I loved the action, the *up* of everything, the colors.   It's funny because beforehand there are always these mutterings (about anywhere it seems) that people will be rude, standoffish, dangerous- you have to be careful and not expect overly friendly behavior.  The city will be dirty and difficult to navigate, expensive and very very...well, cityish.  And people who have been give advice on 'how not to look like a tourist', 'how to blend in', 'how to act like a native'.   Well- we *did* have the required wardrobe of dark neutral colors, but that was compromised by my pink boots and both of us wearing bear hats, backpacks (Melissa's orange, mine has bells), taking pictures constantly and talking to everyone we met.  We made it a game to greet all the working people we passed- people like doormen and police officers, tourist guides and just anyone standing around as part of their job.  Most looked *so* serious until we said hello, good morning, and no, we don't want the empire state building tour to the top, but could you tell us how to get to x?  We met more people this way- some I mentioned earlier- letting our curiosity show, being helpful, pleasant, polite and enthusiastic.  Melissa can talk to anyone, and they happily tell her their stories- I look at everything, listen well.  We lived the adventure in the cities we visited, and only met a few people that were uncouth.  (the evil Einstein look-alike at Times Square who yelled at Melissa about smoking- a few steps off center but we decided that he was just cranky because cigarettes sell for $15.00 a pack in the city).  Everyone else was nice, and they all loved our bear hats. (which were highly superior to the cheapy ones being sold on street corners).

       When we roamed the city, we do so at random- we would have a basic destination (like Enchantments, or Pearl River Market) but would weave throughout side streets to get there.  We walked through residential neighborhoods, districts devoted to one thing or the other (garment, flatiron, shows, food), came across places by accident that were wonderful.  I saw my first ghostbike (memorials- bikes painted white as memorials to those killed in biking accidents), took photos of street art and street people, but mostly of the 'up' part of the city.  Buildings and trees full of pigeons, brightly lit signs shadowing the remains of words painted on buildings long ago.  The city (Manhattan, which is *not* all of NYC, so this is this part) itself was busy but clean for the most part, chaotic but purpose driven.  More serious and self conscious than Philly, which had a bit of restraint, more like a prep-school graduate.  (Compare to the wild floozy that is New Orleans, the business woman that is Charlotte, the languorous belles Savannah and Charleston, trampy Myrtle Beach, smart, odd San Francisco). That is the trick to things, to discover parts of what it may really be like- the face behind the makeup, so to speak.  Getting to know a place as much as you can in a short time, which is also why we love to walk rather than ride- riding you miss so much and I don't want to miss anything!

         We also play a game- what if I lived in the city?  So if I lived in the city (and had the money to make it happen) I would live in Hell's Kitchen or East Village, have a magic shop downstairs and live above it in a tiny apartment.  I would tell fortunes and sell charms, paint in the parks and give things away unexpectedly.  I would visit the street markets and eat a food from a different country every night, buy things from grocers and delis with labels I cannot read, talk to strangers.  Take lots of photos with specific themes.  Live in the natural history museum when I wasn't doing anything else- drawing nature preserved. Take my doggs to the dog park, conquer my fear of heights so I could sit on the fire escape or the roof to watch the sky.  I would become a local character, the weird woman who tells stories and wears what she likes- bear hats and pink boots.  

     

There and Back Again

This morning I am tired- just a pleasant tired, a there-and-back-again tired, results of traveling and adventuring then playing ketchup all week... things to do now, also, grading and planning and writing papers for assignments, cleaning and working in the yarden, but for right now? I'm resting.  My mind is lazy and I have to get back into the habit of writing and thinking- I want to share all of the adventures and discovered curiosities, but it is hard to know where to start.  And the hundreds of photos- everything and anything, including the "Aunt Betty" photos (taken out the car window- window rolled up and dirty- while driving- of distant landmarks- Michelle describes these as 'Aunt Betties').  And instead I am thinking of naps and Walmart and crawling back into bed.  Which might be ok- afterall, it is Saturday, and I am home and.... 

Bear Girls on the Road

Fredricksburg, Virgina  03/05/12

Hellos everyone, the beargirls are home from our adventure!  I will be sharing our stories as we go along- we had lots of adventures, met lots of interesting people (including a Congressional Medal of Honor Winner, some gypsies, a very nice teacher from France and an awesome old pizza-eating theater-going babushka-wearing native New York little old lady with an extreme passion for black olives, soccer players from Chile and New Ghana, assorted artists and art teachers, and a national security guard with a healthy distrust of Melissa's 'sonic screwdriver').  and went to lots of museums (some of which were *not* on the conference agenda)- favorites being the Mutter museum in Philadelphia  (medical oddities- my favorite, even though it was the *only* museum that we weren't allowed to take photos in) and the Muesum of Sex in NYC (Melissa's favorite- pictures allowed).  Fun times, fun times.   We ate....lots of bread and pastries (cheesecake from the Magnolia bakery was the hands-down pastry winner), discovered that NYC/Philly has a surprising lack of good coffee places that we could find, and the famous Heartland Brewery has amazing burgers, excellent sweetpotato fries, but the breweries in NC are much, much better.  (Not a beer trip, ended up drinking mostly water and bleah coffee).  The cheaper the hotel the more free amenities- (on the road in Fredricksburg- hotel included: parking, fridge, internet, microwave, real coffeepot, breakfast with WAFFLES).   Toll roads are expensive ($40.00 in tolls to get from DC to NYC), Philadelphia is wonderful and beyond- that it *is* possible to do NY on foot- we did not take a single cab/bus/subway, walked over 30 miles according to Melissa's mapapp, all the way from central park to canal street, weaving back and forth all over.  

We discovered that Bear-hats (Melissa's find, and my favorite hat ever) are incredibly practical, being hat/scarf/mittens all in one with secret zipper pocket for holding phone/id/card/cash/keys... perfect, and everyone loved them.  That eating to many black jellybeans in the car is not a good thing and that I am not to be trusted with open containers of pepper sauce (her front seat *was* light grey..)

But now we are home, well traveled and safe and sound.  Ready to settle in and stay put for awhile...but always planning for the road ahead!   Next year's conference is in Fort Worth (YAY!) and with a bit of luck and good reviews, we will be invited.  Fingers crossed!