The very last bit

When all the meat is gone
and there's nothing left
but dry white bone,
you can still break it to pieces
and make a wish.

How I'm Doing these Dark Days

I've filled my living room with fairy lights.
I've filled my studio with music. 
I've filled myself with healthful food.
I've filled my calendar with family and friends.

Here I Am Again - Noting this Day.

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The kid made me a beautiful poem and illustration and he saved it up for Thanksgiving each day bursting at the seems with the news he had something for me that I could see on Thanksgiving Day.  I really needed that this week. This kid!  <3 br="">
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I'm rediscovering Kurt Elling today. I'd forgotten how much I liked him.

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I'm in a weird little fragile place in life these days. But hopeful.

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All the Music was too big

Yesterday I woke up with big feelings. It was one of those days where the sky seemed extra blue and the heartbreaks of the world cut extra deep.  I made coffee and put music on and every song had notes that traveled through me, words that swam and around in my head reminding me of something and there I was standing in the kitchen next to the microwave with my eyes leaking happiness. 

I exclaimed to my internet "all the music is too big today" knowing I couldn't keep crying all day with every song.  Sure enough ya'll came through with a some things that sufficed, my favorite being the "Brian Eno - Thursday Afternoon the 61 minute version."  I ran it through twice, providing a beautiful background to get lost in illustrating and no particular sentiment to magnify. The day went on fast and fun with kids and mom at the studio making clay things and I'd forgotten how soft and squishy my insides were until we landed at the Sinnissippi Bandshell sitting among the populace waiting for the Phantom Regiment to take the stage.

You see, I grew up on the south side of Rockford near the Park-it-mark-it on Kishwaukee and some summer nights, while standing in the front yard one could hear the Phantom Regiment drum line practicing in the distance. And on one of those trips to the grocery with my mom where we begged her for candy, I instead begged for a grocery store toy and procured a sparkly white baton with rubber ends and I remember standing in the front yard pretending to be a majorette.  I'm sure I put on my shortest  shorts, tallest boots, and tied my grubby summer t-shirt in a knot at the belly and marched around twirling my grocery store baton occasionally catching myself in the shin with the end.  I think I spent a whole summer, maybe two, dreaming about marching in a parade.

I try to explain all of this nostalgia to my eight year as we wait for the band to take the stage.  He is extremely uninterested and wants nothing more than to run around the playground pretending to be Spider man. I beckon him nearer the stage with ice cream sandwiches so I can feel the drum line in my chest, the whole while poking the kid telling him he can play drums like that if he keeps up his lessons. He was nodding and looking wistfully back towards the playground.

For a day that started with me exclaiming all the music was too big, it seemed sort of funny to be watching a 150 piece band play my favorite memories so loud neighbors can hear it for miles. My eyes leaked again when we finally made it to the playground at the end of the concert and the kids clamored all over themselves for a turn on one of the three playground xylophones, each kid, including mine, trying to mimic the fast arms of the Regiment Xylophonists who played in the front of the band.  Well done Rockford, well done.

I'm no longer the caretaker of these things...

I was on the floor of the kitchen cleaning out the very back on the cupboard when a switch flipped in my brain. I've been telling myself I am not my things and if I toss something with sentimental value it doesn't toss the memory just the thing. It's something I struggle with as a collector of art and books, I could easily grow a hoard of curiosities as large as a car pretty quickly, in fact right this minute there's a 12 foot light up stuffed jellyfish sculpture in my basement, but I digress.  So, I'm on the floor with paper towels and a vacuum after months of telling myself "I am not my things" and I'm throwing out old lunch boxes and cake mixes that we'll never make and my brain says:

"I'm no longer the caretaker of these things... My things should care-take me."

And then in this 45th year of my life... I had to come write it down.

 
via GIPHY

Possibly the moment I've been waiting for

Last night I read some of the entries from when Dannie (Ella) was a tiny kid out loud while Dannie and Jack listened.  They were wondering about when they were little and people no longer have a family photo album sitting around the house - we have a hard drive filled with a million images nobody will see unless they know what file to look for or what old blog to google.  Jack's been asking me at night to tell him a story, "a short and exciting personal narrative please" and I never know what story to tell.  I forgot that I used to write this stuff down every day, before I thought life got to painful to share. I suppose that's when one should share the most but I'm not one who wants to spread my personal awful across a piece of toast so that it's thinner on my bite. I'd just rather swallow it whole and share the dry toast. Turns out awful things can be funny too.  I'd forgotten because I was too close to it and all up in it. 

There was a text book split up in my marriage and a divorce and a move and then series of small silly things that seemed big in the move and just the fresh struggles of a single mom.  Then of course Thomas had a heart surgery and I broke my leg and all the other weird and scary health things that I'm not even going to give words to. The struggle of a new business and loosing a pet and  buying a house.  Those are all big scary things I just couldn't process or share in any productive way and so I set them aside.  And that was the chunk not written about very much here. 

At some point the kids asked me not to post that on the internet and I thought "dang - their lives are their own stories to tell and I shouldn't be putting it out here on the internet forever - for future employers or voters or spouses to find."  Though last night reminded me why I started - it's a log for my memory, and theirs and now I think I can try to find a balance of sharing my life and our family stories without invading privacy.  I hope.  Here goes. I mean it is also my story to tell and that's what I get in return for raising children and for living on this planet - we get our experiences to tell about.

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Dannie cleaned their room and brought down a giant bag of garbage that I hauled out the curb on Wednesday.  As I hauled it I'm pretty sure I heard dishes in there.  Like dishes that had things growing in them because they'd sat too long on a dresser or on the nightstand without being washed.  I decided I was not digging through the garbage to save a couple nasty bowls and then I realized that if I wasn't willing to do that then I was being as lazy as the 15 year old who threw them out. With that realization I shrugged my shoulders and knew I could not be upset with the teenager and put the clinking bag on the curb, clapped my hands like a blackjack dealer and walked away.

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Jack showed me a game they made up at school with the four square set up on the pavement, it's a pretty cleaver game and my favorite part was when he explained that if you went outside of the square "You're out of bounce" I know it's not his fault he doesn't hear so well and so he mixes the way he hears things even in the third grade - but my goodness I find it adorable.  Seriously. (I gotta write this stuff down more)

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Here's something I drew that I really like

In Between

I'm in between projects cutting out a bit of time for myself.  I'm reading everything on the internet for this hour today and then diving into the next thing.  Turns out I work for a real demanding boss who creates crazy deadlines and expects me to work at peak production non-stop. Also turns out I'm that boss. 

So I'm trying to lay off for the month of December and maybe make a special effort to get the house feeling cozy with fairy lights and trees and cocoa and fuzzy blankets.  I'm going to try and watch a movie or two while sitting on the couch in December. It's been hard for me to sit still that long or perhaps most of the movies recommended just aren't that riveting - who knows. But a bigger effort to relax will be made. 

I have a whole spread sheet of relaxing things ranked in order of stress relief and cross referenced with cost. Yep, that's who I am now. Who knew?!

October - Numb

Work has been moving at a break neck speed lately and for the first time I was able to hire a helper for a day.  It has me in the mind of maybe paying for some professional services in general to finish some things around the house.  I probably have a days worth of work for a handy man and really no time to get the things done myself.  I always thought having people do your house things for you would be a sure sign you were successful, but really it just feels like I'm hanging on by the seat of my britches, barely finishing laundry in time to throw the slightly damp socks on and head out the door and that certainly doesn't feel successful.

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I keep forgetting to water my plants.  They'd been outside all summer.  They're still hanging in there looking great.  Best house plants ever.

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The tip of my index finger is still numb from spray painting something about a month ago. Sometimes it tingles and I get pins and needles in it like it's waking up.  I'm pretty bummed about it. I hope the numbness goes away.

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This Fantastic Summer

Every day this summer something amazing happened.  There was a moment  a few weeks back when I wouldn't have been surprised if a full grown sparkly unicorn who'd been living in my closet pranced out and cooked me blueberry pancakes. I would've shrugged and though to myself "this is my life now." 

It's just been a roller coaster of fantastic including drums and a birthday, fireworks, murals, mariachi bands, festivals, the Come and Go Motel Show, Glitter, book launches, skating, music videos, bike riding, George Clinton and the P-Funk, grilled cheeses in Chicago and Alt-J, Spoon, Tune Yards, a wedding, gardening, and giving.  It's winding down this crazy summer, I'm looking forward to some giant art projects coming together and finishing up.  We'll  go camp at Willow Creek Folk Festival soon and then take a few days in St. Louis before school starts.

I know I always make this giant list of awesome and never hit any details of any of it.  It's just all to fast. That's how it goes - when it's fun it goes very fast.

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Jack and Thomas were playing hide an seek at the park tonight.  I was wandering around in the clover field looking for 4 leafers and Thomas was pretending to run fast but actually going very slow and obvious so Jack could find him.  Jack was pretending he couldn't see Thomas like an older kid does with a younger kid calling out"Wheeeeere's Thomas?! I just can't seem to find him!" as they circled the same tree; Thomas trying to get found and Jack trying not to find him; both of them playing to the other I took note and thought to myself "write this down." Both of them playing along for the other - it's just so sweet.

a gross just gross and frustrating saga of gin and tonic

So we were on vacation and I put the garbage in the garage, and then I forgot to put it out the next week so two weeks didn't go, today 3 weeks of garbage goes out. I drag three can out and wonder where grandpa had the kids shovel all that shit from the gutters? I realize they shoveled it into the recycle bin ON TOP of the recyclables... sooooo I decide it wont take much to just dump it in one of the bins marked with an X and then fish out the milk jugs from the overturned gutter-mulch.

I grab the nearest square can with an X on it it's filled with rain water, I dump it. 2nd one filled with rain water, I dump it. I see one already turned upside down and think "Hey someone was looking out for me and dumped the rainwater out from the last time it rained! Awesome!" I grab it and lift to flip it and there's a bag of garbage under it. It's smelly... really smelly. It's wriggling. (ew I KNOW!) I pick up the plastic handle to throw it back in the the now upright square can and the whole bottom drops out and wriggling garbage and juice splooshes all over my feet and shoes, rotten slimy chicken bones are all over the sidewalk (not mine even – I don't even eat meat)

I go back in to get a fresh garbage bag (the last one of course) and rubber gloves. I pick up all the garbage, throw the gloves in the bag and haul it out. Then know I should get the hose and hose off the sidewalk at now 11pm at night. I almost walked into a spiderweb ( A REALLY HUGE ONE!) did the almost walked into a spiderweb dance and instead took the long way to the other side of the house...no hose. I think it's still in the basement from when we fixed the hot water heater. Srsly.

I flipped the last can full of water onto the sidewalk hoping to wash away the smell. Now I just hope the raccoons will come eat any left over gross stuff I couldn't find in the dark, before morning, so I can let the dog out without her eating a bunch of it and getting sick. I put the mulch from the recyclables in a square, and now empty can, picked out the sour gallons of milk from the gutter-mulch and set them back in the blue bin. Went in the house and poured myself a gin and tonic and threw my shoes away.

Where Are They?

We walked past two empty parks, all the way to the library where we discovered an empty maker's space and one lone man willing to talk to us all day about how to use the 3-d printer.  He was excited to meet a kid who invented things, but couldn't really help us because we weren't teenagers, he directed us to a class about deconstructing toys in a few weeks and we took the brochure.  We left him sad and standing in the middle of his cold empty maker's space while we headed to the young readers floor. 

On the second floor, surrounded by children's books, we saw one kid who was sitting with her tutor at a tiny round table, in a tiny chair working at reading a tiny book, neither of them tried to steal a glance at us, even when we walked real close.  We found some books about science experiments to do in the kitchen and briefly stared at a lone frog listlessly floating around in his tank on the librarians desk before we left.

We walked past two empty parks again and through a neighborhood filled with family homes standing silently in the sunny 74 degree day.  Unfettered sprinklers, very plainly watered perfect lawns, with no body running through them.  One kid rode his bike down the sidewalk behind his mom.  As they passed, his mom said hello but he averted his eyes from ours and then they were gone as fast as they came. We scouted for sidewalk chalk art, finding none, we resorted to looking for lime-bikes, and feathers.

Quadruple Rant

I hurt my iris.  Not on purpose, it just happened and I'm pissed and it's not healing fast enough.  I can't wear contacts while it heals and I bought expensive glasses in the mean time but I still pine for my contact lenses every minute of the day - I want to get lasik asap now. Fuck a broken iris.

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I haven't skated in two weeks because of my eye and so tonight I went and walked far and long and fast and I walked a hole in the bottom my my foot.  Fuck blisters from shitty shoes.

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It's finally warm outside (ok a little hot in fact) and everyone has their AC cranked and I'm cold when I walk into places.  Fuck overusing the AC.

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Fuck plastic bags. and straws and water bottles and all the other single use garbage bullshit people toss. 

Rain

I dragged all those things I didn't need anymore to the curb in a futile attempt to beat the rain. That cool shower smelled like new roots and soggy worms, replacing an itchy day that wasn't ready and went nowhere. It made me lighter to let things go while wet drops hit my cheeks.

It's the Cops

Saturday morning I awoke to the persistent sort of knock on my front door that only police deliver. I pulled on whatever was at the top of the pile and ran down the stairs in a haze to in find one police woman shivering and pounding on my front door.  The city snow plow hit my car.  Broke the break light and then put a hefty gouge all the way up the length of the poor old Grand Marquis Mark. It still drives, but the window doesn't roll up or down at all now and it looks like hell. I'm hoping the city will send me a nice check in the amount of enough for a newer cruddy old car but this one with heated seats and blue tooth and front wheel drive.  Maybe even something that will fit in small spaces and not use much gasoline.

Thankfulness

I've had some days of frustration lately and I started to make a list of things that went wrong.  It was a good icky list but then I decided that was the wrong direction.  Now it's time for a list of lovely things and things I love.

Grilled Cheeses
People who buy art
Citrus smelling stuff
Cardio until my lungs hurt
People who make great art
Food cooked for me by other people
Dancing
Healthy kids
Heated car seats
Watching Broad City
Unexpected checks in the mail
Finding jeans that fit
Sitting right in front of the heater
Sleeping in
Foot rubs
Binge watching Madmen
Money
This song

The Day After We Attended a Royal Rumble Pay Per View Party.

"Mom, if I was a wrestler I'd be Smacker McSmacker, and I'd just keep smacking people in the face" ...commence Jack pantomiming super fast face smacking.

Is it Summer Yet?

I'm longing for warm summer night.  There was this time when I was a kid and we lived on the south side that my Dad and his pals would play Frisbee in the street in front of our house.  They'd be out there with a beer in one hand and skipping that disk off the street looking smooth.  Mostly us kids would be catching lightning bugs or playing tag in the yard.  Sometimes I think I remember sitting on the curb and being super happy when someone caught the Frisbee under their knee.  I think there may have been a radio somewhere - in my head there's a soundtrack to this scene with maybe Slow Ride and Rocket Man and probably some Stones.  These guys with their messy long hair and cut offs, sometimes with a short cigarette carefully shifting from hand to mouth just long enough to take a drag and return the throw. 

Art Institute of Chicago

I took the kids into see art today.  We started in the modern wing - mostly because that's where the valet parking was but also because we've been interested in modern.  I've been participating in abstract night at the studio and the kids have done some at school and in an outside art class.  We all seem to be a little enchanted by it.  Piet Mondrain is near the top my list of very favorites but later in another wing I was reminded how much I loved Edward Hopper and then I saw all the Renaissance stuff and forgot all about abstract.  I could spend years there and just stand around loving everything the best, for a slice of time. 

Everyone at the art museum is pretty.  Everyone is dressed like they're going to something important, some folks are speaking other languages.  Nobody is yelling at their children, they are all leaned over teaching their kids about art and history and asking each other's opinions. A whole day of looking at art museum goers made me feel wretched in my snow boots and my smelly, stained up shirt.  My youngest got car sick on the way into the museum and I of course put my hands out and caught all the barfs instead of  letting is spew all over our driver's back seat.  There was no way to turn around and drive home so we pushed on, ducking into the bathroom right away and washing up and then standing under the hair dryer for a minute.  Then I went on to spend the day looking outward and thinking about technique and colors as well as being on high alert for more sickness that never came.  It wasn't until I was getting a little overwrought with all the looking at art that I turned my attention to the people and then lastly myself. sigh.  Then I just wanted to be somewhere else and that was perfect because we left.

On the way home we saw smoke on the highway for miles and drover past a semi-truck on fire, like 20-foot flames and black smoke.  No body barfed, some of the kids slept. It was a crazy grey and sleepy ride home. 

Half Way

Halfway Down
By A. A. Milne

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn't any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up
And it isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead!

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About half way through every project, I hate what I'm doing.  It's not turning out how I had it in my head and I've looked at it too long, it's feeling overworked and I want to literally kick it across the room.  Once I let go of what I thought it was going to be, finish and fix what I have, it usually turns out pretty good.

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Hello 2018!  Let's do better than last year.

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Tuesday at the End of December Brain Dump

It's super cold today.  I never did get the storm windows into the house and so I really can't get the heat up over 62 today.  I'm pretty sure if I was a landlord I'd be getting yelled at about it, but the kids are visiting with their dad this week and I just put an extra sweater on until my dad gets here and we try to get the screens out and the windows in with our frozen fingers. 

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I loved 2017.

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I think I only saw one movie this year at the theater.  Wonder woman.  I loved it.

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I missed a whole movement of new music during the last decade, that I really like and as a result I'm consuming it as fast as I can with ferocity.  It's been loud at my house for the last few months.  I don't know why I wasn't listening to anything.  I'm surmising the part of my brain that liked music was numb, I thought it was all over, everything good had been sung and listened to ad nauseum. Most of the things I liked had been abandoned after my divorce, literally and figuratively.  This year I discovered new things I love.  It's so good and unexpected and powerful.  Sometimes I have to turn a song off because it makes my chest hurt, other times impromptu dance breaks.  Welcome back to the music lobe in my brain!

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Thomas bought me a turn of the century upright grand piano. I like to sit at it and pound out melodies on the keys in a super monotonous way.  I'm sure the neighbors are horrified. 

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I'm going to make some paintings on black velvet in January.  I hope the technique isn't that different from starting with a black canvas.  I'm super excited - I'd like to start today but need to get wood and velvet and it's -17° today and I haven't started my car in three days.  Soooo, maybe I'll get out after we get the windows in and get supplies.  It's actually an idea time to stretch canvases - when the kids aren't here. 

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