Lovely Day

First, my birthday was great. Eric bought me antique wine glasses and an original R2D2 from Star Wars. Yes, I like to drink and collect Star Wars figures! What a combo, huh? Today is beautiful. My flowers are in bloom or just about to bud. The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and the bulk of work I had to do the last few days on curriculum writing is over--thank goodness! I did not want to work this summer, but, of course, the district wanted me to help with curriculum writing, which I loathe, and, plus, I'm teaching two new classes this year, and why on earth would I want to write curriculum for classes that I haven't taught at this level? Well, I was told because I am good at it. Ha! I hate it. How can one be good at something she hates? That's the leftovers of the 30's! Remember I said that in my 30's I worked really hard to make a name for myself in my district? Well, I even worked hard at the things I hated and someone took notice. My fault. I take all the blame! I'm off to clean the house. Have to have a nice clean house on such a beautiful day and then I won't feel so guilty sitting on the front porch reading later today.

Colorado Update

This was my first vacation with Eric, and we had a blast! We camped in Woodland Park, CO, and we hiked, climbed, drove, ate, laughed, and had an all-around fantastic time. So, in more detail, we hiked through Garden of the Gods, which is lovely and dry, and full of colors like terracotta, every variation of green, and a dabble here and there of yellows and purple from the blooming cacti. After this, we went to cave of the winds. What a contrast! Cool, dark, damp, deep into the earth. We drove to the top of Pikes Peak. It was the first time in years that Eric had been there, and the first time he'd driven it. Following this, we walked to the top of Seven falls. Let me tell you, I could feel every fat cell in my body crying out for more carbs and wine! I'm so out of shape, but I made it. One set of steps had over 180 steps and another had 204. Now, these are not like the stair stepper I like to use in my front room. They were steep and there is no oxygen in Colorado! I'm telling you, breathing in that altitude is horrid. I do not know how anyone could ever do their yoga deep breathing in Colorado. I tried to suck air in, but to no avail! But, like I said, we made it to the top of each set of steps and were both able to hike further up at the top. The contrast of both days was palpable, though. From hiking desert like conditions to exploring a cave to driving to the top of one peak to walking to the top of Seven Falls. Wow. I love Colorado! We ate at a place called Buck Snort, which is out in the middle of no where. Seriously. We had to drive a thin road along large boulders that had rolled down the mountain at some point in time. On the way there, we saw valleys, green, lush, bathing in the sunset, horses and elk grazing for food, fly-fishermen in the streams, all highlighted so perfectly and peacefully by the evening sky. It was beautiful. Buck Snort is a "saloon". It's got great food, but is so desolate, that few people make it back there. That being said, it looks like everyone has been there. People carve their names in every nook and cranny. It's filled with names of famous and not so famous people who have been fortunate enough to have heard about the place. It looks like a "dive", but it was filled with so much character. After eating, we were walking back to the car, and I stopped because a small animal was coming toward me. It took a minute, but I realized it was a fox. Evidently, it eats at the restuarant in the evening. Yes, it's wild, and I let it be the one to get close to me--which was too close for Eric who felt obligated to remind me that it was a wild animal and my camera wouldn't protect me.

The next day we drove to Cripple Creek and decided to drive to Canon City--down a dirt road, winding through a canyon, steep drop offs, gorgeous!

This last photo is of the hail storm we hit in Eastern Colorado. Yes, it's hail. There was so much hail that they called out the snow plows! It was horrible. No beauty here. It was pitch black and the hail pelted us relentlessly. There had to have been a tornado near by.

Well, I'm off for birthday cake. Eric is making it for me!

I'm 40!

Okay, I awoke to a new decade. I'm officially 40 years old! I'm excited, too. I pulled in last night from my trip to Colorado, where Eric and I went for our first vacation together to celebrate my upcoming birthday... more photos are coming later today or tomorrow.

If my dad were in town, he'd ask, "So, do you feel any different?" Today, no, but over the last few months a distinct change has occurred. I'm more at ease, I'm less obsessed with work, and I'm enjoying down time. Don't get me wrong, I still love my job and still want to do my best, but some magical change happened. I think I've spent the last 10 years trying desperately to get to this point. I finished my master's, achieved national board certification, took two years as an instructional coach, which was a huge career move and major professional development, and I've made a name for myself in my school district. All of that took so much energy. This in tandem with the energy I devoted to healing the wounds of my childhood, really took away my creative spark. What I was creating or doing was all centered around work-related materials or "assigned" projects to help heal those old wounds. That's not to say that some great stuff wasn't created, but, I'm ready to focus more on me and "home" and really allowing the spiritual self to shine through. I totally believe in things occurring for a reason, and now as I begin checking the "40" box on all sorts of documents, I know that I'm right where I'm suppose to be. The ego is sleeping better, the appreciation for life, love and family is strong, and I'm confident and almost comfortable in my own skin. I'm still adjusting to the the changes my body has undertaken in the last 10 years! Good lord, I wish I had my 20's body back!

I'm off to buy some alcohol paints and try to do a new project....

Just Let it Roll

My new plan is to draw each night before I go to bed. When I began therapeutic journaling a few years ago, my counselor told me to find a time when my subconscious was aware and ready to speak and I was quiet and ready to listen. Night time was the best fit. What I find when I journal or draw at this time of the day is that things just happen. It's that whole process for the sake of process--the art of listening to your subconscious, the internal voice--which I view as God and allowing it take shape, speak to the conscious level and help guide me in the right direction. When I first started drawing this, I just had a face, and slowly she began to transform. A mistake here and there led to a new direction. She was not planned as a praying bride, but there she is, and isn't that fitting for my Changes journal? I mean one of the changes I'm undergoing is being a newly engaged.

Interestingly, as she began to develop, I saw, rather than an uptight, nervous, crying bride, a woman who was at peace in her wedding garb, praying for more than just a perfect wedding. As I've come to realize over the years, this quiet time for me to listen to the internal voice (it can be the eternal voice, too) is an opportunity for me to come to terms with the way things are or should be.

As with all of the women I draw, I love her. I can feel her--especially as a small portion of my own subconscious coming to terms with all the changes. Seeing her in juxtaposition to the "silent" woman I drew the night before is interesting and indicative of the complexity of my subconscious.

I'm off to Colorado for a week to celebrate my birthday. I'm so excited, and hope I can get a bit of drawing in while I'm gone...if not, the photos will have to suffice until I get home and process a week's worth of learning, living and loving.

New Journal

With all of the changes taking shape in my life, I decided my new journal would be one called "Changes" and my reflections will focus on how I'm coping with them. Last night, I began a drawing what I thought would be a study of "beauty". As 40 inches closer (June 21, the first day of summer, the summer solstice, whoohoo!), I'm noticing my laugh lines creasing more deeply, which I do not mind at all, but it's the crepe-like quality of the skin below my eyes, the appearance of a sag around my jowls that seems to grab at my gut when I look at myself in the mirror each morning. That being said, I'm not willing to go under the knife for a face lift (well, not at this point in my life, but maybe....); rather, I'd like to find a way to come to terms with the exterior changes of my body. The internal thoughts as I near 40 are fantabulous! I've never felt more confident or at ease with my self as I do now. That is as long as I don't see a mirror. When I see myself in the mirror, I feel a twinge in my stomach, a "dear god, how do I fix this?" Years ago, when I was in college, I wrote about beauty and how it was society's vision of how women should look that perpetuated all sorts of unhealthy habits. Of course, I was 30 pounds lighter, then, less wrinkled and.... It was easier then, I suppose to feel unthreatened by "beauty". Now, it's different, I think.

As I was drawing, though, things changed for me. Those of you who create art know that the process of creation is sometimes its own animal. My friend Karen, who is a plastic surgeon, introduced me to process art a few years ago. The focus was not to be on the finished product but on the process, how the art developed, changed, evolved, and how the "artist" developed, changed, evolved as well. For me, this drawing was about an evolution of sorts. You'll notice that it looks cut off at the bottom. That's because it is. After drawing this, I decided it needed an embellishment. I had some ribbon that came in my scrap pack from Hobby Lobby, and I thought this little piece of black velvety ribbon might make a nice embellishment around her neck. But as I cut it, it dropped on her mouth. It was one of those "mistakes" that proved too important to ignore. Rather than keep the "What is the secret to beauty" I had written at the bottom of the page, I decided it needed to be chopped, and this drawing needed to stand on its own--she needs to stand on her own.

I've not decided what she is standing for or against, though, and I'm not sure what part of the changes I'm undergoing she fits into, but there is no doubt she fits. I don't think her meaning, now, is beauty. I think there is something more meaningful embedded in her. Beauty, is well, surface, and maybe that's what she's suppose to be teaching me. Maybe her purpose is that and not silence as when first looking at her one might think. Interestingly, I've not felt silent for years, and yet, something transpired while I was creating her that made her "work" better as a silent woman--or a woman keeping a secret--or a woman who chooses to keep her lips sealed. I don't know. I'm intrigued by her, though, and how she has taken on her own personality in my new journal.

By the way, I went to Hobby Lobby (walked there as my car was getting a "checkup"--if you haven't walked to a store in a while, you should. Here in the midwest we drive everywhere. Without my car I was forced to walk, and let me tell you I wish I lived in a town where you could walk to the stores. I would be a very happy person!). They had one lone remnant bag today, and I snatched that baby right up. Five bucks bought me the images you see here. Perfect sizes for all kinds of art projects. My sister in law called earlier and asked if I would be interested in using her digi-scrapbooking stuff. I told her no way. Although I appreciate my friends who do it and although I love visual stimulation of all kinds, I MUST have the tactile. There is nothing better than opening this bag full of scraps (which was only $5, I tell ya!), running my fingers through it, organizing it, messing it up, using it in a project. Oooo the way it feels on my skin!

Back from Bennett Springs

I'm home from a three-day stint to Bennett Springs to see my dad, who recently moved to a small cabin there. Evidently, we brought the sunshine with us; we had three beautiful days of fishing, touring, "roughing" it and just hanging out. My maternal grandma and aunt happened to be in the area visiting family--my mom was actually born in Long Lane, MO, which is, well, a long lane and not much else, south of Bennett Springs a bit. So, I took the opportunity to visit a few graveyards that I wouldn't be able to find on my own. I called and met Grandma and Dorothy after my first round of fishing, which in itself is a story!

Our first excursion was to the Mennonite community. So this photo of a chicken is important why, you might ask? Well, this chicken is called a Polish Chicken--notice the legs are thick and full of feathers--not like a "normal" chicken. As we were pulling into the Mennonite store, I saw these little marvels running amuck. My dad and I both yelled, "Polish Chickens!" Jake was like, "So?"
I had one of these chickens when I was growing up. Yep, a yellow Polish Chicken was my favorite little pet one summer. I loved it. I carried it around, petted it, talked to it. The whole shebang. My dad use to say, "There goes my little Pollock carrying her Pollock chicken!" Then, the neighbor's dogs killed it, and I was devastated. When I try to explain to people my love of this chicken two things occur. One, they can't believe I had a chicken as a pet and then they don't believe that there is anything like a "Polish" chicken. Yes, now you know. There is.

After visiting the Mennonites we walked around Bennett Springs and got things ready for Wednesday. Back at my dad's cabin, then, we started a fire, cooked out and then ate marshmallows--of course! Notice the very burnt double-marshmallow gooey mess next to my head. Just moments later....mmmm...into my tummy, which, by the way, is itself turning into a marshmallow faster each day I inch closer to 40!

After a not-so-relaxing sleep on army cots (my dad has a very small cabin 16X24, and it has all amenities except for beds and bathroom. So we sleep on cots and walk about 60 feet to a bathroom. You have to be willing to rough it!), we went fishing. I love fishing. This was my first time fly , though. Well, I didn't actually use a fly rod, but I did use a fly lure, and I did wear the waders and I did get in to the water.

Now, the waders are not very flattering on a female's body, but no biggie, they'll keep me dry, right? They DID, too, until I misstepped and stumbled into the spring and its rather swift current, and well, I filled my waders with 58 degree water. Not to worry. I had fished for about 2 hours--dry--by that time, and was able to fish for another 45 minutes or so before I began to feel my feet slowly go numb!

Unfortunately, we didn't catch any fish. If you ask Jake that's just fine with him. He loves to fish, and we had the best time hanging out in the water, but he hates to kill things (even the smallest of spiders get carted out the front door rather than ending up on the bottom of his shoe), so he was glad we weren't faced with having to skin the fish. My dad, on the other hand, would have easily chopped off its head and skinned it while it tried to get away. I am a combination of both. As a pesci-vegetarian, I don't eat red meat--ever, and rarely eat fish and only on the smallest of occasions eat chicken, but I do believe that if you catch your own fish you can eat it, and I would have, though, had difficulty killing it. I'd have left that up to my dad.

But, catching fish was not the purpose. Getting to see my dad, appreciating nature a bit, spending time without telephones, televisions, radios, etc. is always heavenly!

Novel Idea

Okay, so this probably isn't a novel idea for some, but I think it's brilliant. Last week, I went with my friend Stacey to a thrift store looking for scraps, remnants, anything that I could use in my projects. I found several beautiful old hankies. They are 100% cotton, lovely in color and perfect for framing my old photos since most of the women in the photos likely used hankies just like the ones I found. Here is the situation, though. Typically, I'm not too worried about cutting/altering things, but something just wouldn't allow me to begin cutting these hankies. And some are so lovely that I really would hate to use them this week and then have a better use for them in a month. These are one of a kinds, after all, so it's not like I can just run out and buy another one.

Solution? Well, I took a photo of the hankie I liked the most and decided to print it via I-photo on fabric photo paper. Let me tell you it's perfect! First, I downloaded the photo in I-photo, which allows me to alter the color, the size, the effects, etc., thus giving me a variety of options for the same "old" hankie. Then printing it on fabric photo paper allows for a choice of the fabric texture, etc. Perfect!

A photo of a hankie I bought with Stacey that I then printed on photo fabric, and it's awesome!

Then, I started thinking, "Wow, I could do the same thing with all of the other "fabrics" I've collected over the years. Of course, in scrapbooks I've placed photos of quilts made my grandmothers, uniforms worn by my dad, my great-grandpa's "skirt" that little boys wore at the turn of the century, but I hadn't thought of printing them on fabric photo paper. Now, I had the idea! Okay...for those of you who have already figured this out, let me enjoy the moment of my "new" discovery for a moment!

The photograph of my great-grandma's handmade quilt. When I print it on photo fabric it looks just like an original square of the quilt!

So, I took a photo of a block from the quilt my great-grandmother made years ago. Now, it can be the perfect backdrop for a new fabric/photo collage. It looks so real, too! In fact, when Jake got home, he was terrified that I had actually cut up the quilt and had pieces of it on the table!
Perfect solution. I can't wait to return from Colorado and print images of rocks on fabric, now, too. Wow, what amazing textures can be created.