Shell shocked, and it's still Monday.

Monday, continued ..... holy crap!

It has come home to me, literally, that big things come in very small packages. Something as seemingly innocuous as a FedEx envelop can send your day on a straight path to Hell. And it comes with a friendly greeting and a smile.

What am I talking about?

I was sitting there on the sofa, taking a short breather after rearranging the bedroom furniture, when I hear the crunch of gravel from wheels coming down my drive. Interesting. Slightly irritating. I'm not expecting anyone. I look out the back window and see a big white FedEx van. Hmmm. I haven't ordered anything. I go to the door, step out onto the porch, get the "Hello ma'am!" greeting. I acknowledge with my own Hi ya'! I wait while he punches in the numbers into the handset, chit-chatting about the nice weather today. He hands me an envelop and bids me a good day. I say bye and go back in the house.

Quick zip of the pull tab, open the envelop, take out papers, read, stand in the middle of the living room feeling slightly nauseous. It's a letter from the company my husband had been working for announcing they are not only closing the three terminals we already knew of. They are shutting down the entire company. Effective today. My head instantly started to hurt.

Why should I care? The husband has already found another job. Well, yeah, but Jevic was supposed to be paying the drivers from the three terminals, with health benefits, until June 2nd. In the blink of an eye that just got shot in the proverbial ass. Both barrels. Dear Employee, we've just screwed you out of a couple of paychecks you were counting on. Have a nice day.

I don't know about the rest of you, but times here at Chez Martinez are tight. All paychecks and/or income are necessary. I like to have food. My vehicles like fuel. My assorted debts like to be paid. Unfortunately, I'm not a month ahead on all my bills the way I was this time last year. Again, things have been tight. (okay yeah, I was the idiot who bought nasty expensive yarn last year but that's not totally relevant at the moment). The cost of living has increased while the income as slightly declined because of the state of the economy. Lots of people out there know exactly what I'm talking about. Bills get paid but not much left to pay extra all the time.

What concerns me at the moment is the income from the husband's new job is still "training level income". I have no idea how much he will be making over the next couple of weeks, nor am I certain about the overall income situation to begin with. Trucking incomes are not constant like a typical 40 hr. week job. You get what you get according to what you drive. It fluctuates and varies week to week. With the new company, it will now be every two weeks instead of weekly. We don't know for certain how long he'll be with his trainer and when he'll get his own truck to start 'really' earning income.

The reiki store is not an income venture at present, nor do I expect it to be for awhile. Artwork income isn't bill paying now either. Despite having a small amount of savings stuck back, it's still not a pleasant situation at the moment. I'm also not looking forward to the husband's reaction when he calls this evening and I tell him the news. It will only add stress to what is already a stressful 'new job' situation for him.

No y'all, today has not been an altogether nice day as I thought it might be. And it looks like that lovely Stimulus check and our unexpected bonus of a state/federal tax form amendment filing will go for bills and not anything fun, that's for damn sure. The husband's going to have to wait for the computer stuff for his keyboard as well. Blah!, he's going to be really snarly about that, too.

And one of the side effects of this whole thing (husband's job & financial issues) is the separation I'm feeling spiritually. Surprisingly, it hasn't affected my readings for others at all. I say lots of prayers of gratitude for that, you can be sure!!! What I mean though is the connection for me personally. I realize it's a temporary state of affairs. I realize the cause. I realize it's technically my own internal chatter of worrying about things that creates the block. I got it. What I don't got is a solution that's quick and straightforwardly flips the switch back to the on position. And, yes, this creates more worry and stress. Treadmill + squirrel + nut.

I feel like an idiot. I really do. I'm supposed to be well connected to the Creative Source, to my Guides, and yet I feel insecure and full of doubt about them. I see them at a distance and I wonder if they really are who I've believed they are all this time. I guess that doesn't make much sense to most of you. In a way, it doesn't make sense to me either. This is even more confusing because of a relatively recent addition/connect to a major Guide. Being connected to my Guides is vitally important to me.

Way back when I had my Y360 blog (which I still miss, BTW) I posted this about Spirit Guides. *For those who have read it, bear with it again ......

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Kali's perspective on a the subject of Spirit Guides, Guardian Angels and such ... *Please remember this is MY take on things, entirely what I get from the spirit world. Your own experience may be vastly different because Spirit moves differently for different people. You gotta' go with what works for you personally.*

So, get yourselves comfy folks, 'cause here we go ...

Much like our own military, spiritual/celestial entities have a hierarchy. Like a Marine rank and file. You've got your enlisted guys, Private - grunts - soldiers who fight on the front lines - all the way up to you're 4-Star General, the Big Cheese. Each exist on different vibrational levels or dimensions within the whole of the spiritual/celestial system. They also have varying ranks within their own particular level, so to speak. Think Sergeant, Staff Sergeant, Gunnery Sergeant, Master Sergeant, Sergeant Major, etc.

Those whom I'll call Earth-Bound Entities (EB's) are what you would probably call ghosts. They are the most closely connected to this earthly vibrational level - they are the equivalent of Private. They haven't yet realized they've passed from earthly form to spiritual form, for whatever reason. Haunted houses, etc.

Next along are the spirits of your Grandmother Rosie, your Aunt Edna, your Uncle Bob, etc. (Private First Class) They are the easiest to connect to when channeling because their vibrational level is still, in a way, earth-bound. They know they've passed, moved up the vibrational scale, but they still feel a connection to the loved ones they left behind. They are the ones who greet you when you cross over as well.

Then you've got your Guardian Angels = Sergeants. They can still materialize and appear as humans, or even as animals. Lots of people have stories about coming in contact with a mysterious person who somehow 'saved their life' or helped them in a profound way. They are your closest spiritual ally, with you from the first breath of your earthly existence to your last. A kind of celestial 'soul buddy'. Every single person has one, even if they do know acknowledge them. They protect you in this life.

Gate Keepers - Lieutenants - are most known to those who, like myself, are Mediums. They 'guard the door' between earth and spirit. They are the big burly guys who'll toss you out on your ass if you make an unwanted, drunkenly groping pass at the waitress over at Billy-Bob's Road House. They watch your back. They protect you from negative EB's and help you raise your own vibrational level to channel higher level entities.

Spirit Guides are unusual creatures and fall somewhere in around the rank of Captain. They have, as ALL entities do, distinct personalities and play individual, specialized roles in the lives of the humans they work with. They or may not have ever lived as humans, though often they are beings who have indeed walked in this earthly dimension at one time or another. They usually have lived a life with their 'assigned' humans as a friend, family member, or some other close acquaintance. They are, in a form, very similar to 'soul mates', cosmic buddies who repeatedly share the course of our lives. They work with us on our life's path. They encourage, guide, and care for us all the days of our existence ... both in physical form and spiritual form. Occasionally they come and go through your life, new ones coming in, as you learn certain lessons, others move out. It is not unusual for a particular Guide to work with several humans at once. They exist in a vibrational level that enables them to "be in two places at one time" in a way.

Angels and Archangels - Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Metatron and so forth are the Majors. While they do not take human form, they still greatly influence human life. Good ol' Michael is one of my own Guides and I can assure you, he is quite a character. But I'll talk more about him at another time. Often these are the ones who channel information through a particular individual, like Seth channeled through Jane Roberts. Again, they too have a kind of hierarchy within their own vibrational level. They are important in that they carry messages for the whole of existence as we know it, and existence outside of our perceived vibrational level and dimension. And they are somewhat like cosmic gate keepers between the higher spiritual levels.

As we step up the celestial ladder, you get into those some call the Ascended Masters. These are your Colonels. Think Buddha, Jesus, Shiva, Kwan Yin, and so forth. They are the beings whom humans have called Gods and Goddess through the ages. They have become self-realized (meaning they have achieved a complete and indivisible union with the Divine Source) and can come and go from the earthly plane to the celestial plane without the humanistic birth/death cycle. They "sit at the right hand" of the Creator. They are our ultimate teachers and guides. They embody the cosmic lessons, ie: Jesus = love; Buddha = enlightenment; Kwan Yin = compassion; etc. They work with us for our highest spiritual evolution and walking our own path toward achieving self-realization.

Whew! Now that we’ve established the cosmic hierarchy as Kali knows it to be ....

Today, a few of my own Spirit Guides are yammering to be introduced. I think they’ve been plotting this behind my back for awhile. And they’ve been as giggly as schoolgirls all morning.

I don't know about yours (unless I tune in, of course) but mine have a wicked sense of humor. They are prone to dishing out a spiritual thump on the head on occasion. But most importantly, they love to laugh ... sometimes with me, sometimes at me. I'm not at all sure I'm likin' that being laughed at aspect, but I do see their point. I can be rather dense, and when I finally clue in to an important message, it's inevitably a "Duh!" kind of moment.

Unfortunately, I can't say that I know ALL of my Guides very well. What I do know is that for some inexplicable reason, there's a whole chorus line of them hanging around. Some stand way back in the peripheral of my psychic vision, some get right up in my face. Those are the ones I do know, the up close and personal ones. I know their names. I've 'seen' their faces. I 'hear' their voices. We communicate telepathically, all the time. *NOTE* Guides can get kinda' pushy, too, when they want something, just so y'all know. My closest Spirit Guides are Izeel, Abeal, Andrew and Murium. The Four Musketeers. They are my spiritual comrades, so to speak. They have a preference for nice long talks when I'm in bed getting ready to fall asleep. I suppose that’s the time I’m most receptive, most relaxed, and not so much ‘in my own head’. They take advantage of that.

They, as I said, are specialized. Izeel is the most vocal of the group. With his appearance, he gets this whole hippie/Jesus thing going. Y’all know, picture Robert Powell in Jesus of Nazareth with a tie-dyed robe on. Really nice. He’s the one I take deeply personal questions and concerns to. He holds my emotional side and my intuitive side. He is my comfort zone, my big fuzzy blanket.

Abeal has short, light golden brownish-red curly hair, soft gray eyes, beard and mustache. He has a vaguely Irish look about him and he likes to wear those cable-knit fisherman’s sweaters. He holds my intellectual side. He’s technical, analytical, yet in an oddly informal way. He’s who works with me at the computer or when I do graphic design stuff. He’s much like a wonderful Uncle, gentle, but you've got to respect him.

Andrew is tall, lean, with a mop of always messed up black hair. He has sparkly clear blue eyes and he loves to laugh. He loves to hear me laugh as well. He holds my childish, humorous side. He will sometimes break out dancing, and he moves through existence as if it’s always a celebration. He likes blue jeans, white t-shirts and high-top Converse sneakers ... worn out, untied and floppy. All he needs is a '57 Chevy and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his shirt sleeve.

Murium is whom I often call Muse. She is my artistic guide. She holds my imagination, my creativity, my self-expression. She’s a warrior with paint. She has beautifully long blonde hair, an angelic face, a sculptor’s dream. She is elegance, romance, magic and mystery. She is the nymph men have sought to accurately paint for hundreds of years ... and they always fall short of capturing her beauty. Her eyes are violet/gray. She rarely speaks, but makes her presence known just the same. She holds my hand when I paint, as if she were doing the work and not I.

But another interesting character is my Gate Keeper, Nanna. Grand-motherly in appearance with a soft cloud of white hair. She, like Andrew, loves to laugh and she likes to pat me on the head. She is there when I fall asleep, when I channel or do any psychic work, and she’s also very fond of hanging around when I cook. Her call sign is chocolate chip cookies. If I, out of the blue, suddenly think about chocolate chip cookies you can bet Nanna is near.

This morning I was standing at the kitchen sink and I had a “Duh!” moment. I was thinking about the chocolate chip cookies I had made last weekend, how I had eaten a couple every day even though I really wasn’t craving cookies in the least bit. I realized I had mistaken the spontaneous “Oh, I think I’ll go in the kitchen and make some chocolate chip cookies!” moment I had last Saturday for just that ... an urge to make cookies. In reality is was Nanna trying to get my attention. Why? Because she knew I was getting ready to ‘move up a vibrational level’ and it was going to be a kind of psychic overload.

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So what's the point of all that? It's a reminder for me of how well I was once "in touch" with my Guides. How I talked to them all day and into the evening until I fell asleep. How I felt them with me so clearly I could almost see them in the physical. I was really connected.

For the past several weeks that feeling just isn't there and I'm at a loss with it. I miss them, miss that connection terribly. When I try to connect for anything other than a client reading it just feels off, distant and clouded. To be honest, it's more than troubling, it's really wigging me out. I don't like it. Not at all.

What to do? For now, it's go fix something to eat (because I tend to not eat when I'm upset or stressed), watch a movie and knit something.

Again, Namaste y'all ...

It's Monday. One of my two days away from the store. I should be in the studio, blissfully swishing paint around on a canvas or something. Instead, I'm sitting here wondering what the dickins' to do with myself. My options are:

1. Clean the house, which I confess I've been shamefully neglectful of doing of late.
   
2. Yard work to attempt to fight the ever expanding weed field my "yard" is fast becoming.
   
3. Write blog post, which I think is fairly obvious is happening right now.
   
4. Stare at the walls. No need to elaborate.
   
5. Paint something, which I'm inclined to do but having a dilemma on subject matter.
   
6. Work on one of my five in-progress knitting projects.
   
7. Read one of the two dozen books stacked up on the corner of the table.
8. Surf the internet, expanding my mind with such Earth shattering news as Brangelina expecting twins. Y'all know how important it is to keep up with celebrity gossip and tabloid tidbits.
9. Something creative, "something" being in the catagory of sewing a new pocketbook, etc.
10. Business related paper work.
    

I'm sure there are more options but I can't think of anything else at the moment. But, of the aforementioned exciting possibilities for my day I'm thinking that #1 is most likely the next thing, after completion of #3. Then I'll not feel so bad about indulging in option #5 or #9.

Decisions, decisions.

I think I'll go have a cup of coffee first.

Namaste y'all ...

Eating cake, yarn and an empty house.

My, my, how time flies. Okay, not. This has been the longest two weeks in recored history. But at long last the husband is finally gone back to work! Starts his new job with Enterprise this morning. Left at 5:30 am, the butt crack of dawn, and the house is mine again for at least the next five days. The cat and I are sitting here at the computer with our coffee and a house full of blissful silence and emptiness. All is right with our little world.

Don't get me wrong. I do love the husband. He's my husband, after all. But I've moaned and groaned many times about how much it wigs me out to have someone else in the house all the time. I'm used to being here alone, quiet and alone. I like it. I need it. My heart of hearts is a solitary one 3/4 of the time. Even having the husband occupied back in his studio for hours at a time doesn't keep me from being aware there is another person in the house. The energy changes. I'm aware of his presence at all times. It's nerve wrecking. Sort of like a doctor being 'on call' and never knowing for sure just when that damned beeper 's gonna' go off. Ah well, the next five days are mine. And yes, I'm giggling about that lovely little fact.

The store's been open for eleven days now. While I can't say we've been very busy I can say we have had some business. When our newspaper article hits the press I'm sure it will pick up considerably. Spreading the word. I'm looking forward to the day when we're busy enough to hire someone to run the counter while Paul and I spend our time doing Reiki sessions all day. Or I'm doing readings. I'm looking forward to having other types of services like having a massage therapist or acupuncturist, etc. I'm looking forward to offering classes such as yoga or meditation or tai chi. I'm looking forward to the retail section of the store being full of more nice things and making lots of sales on a daily basis. I see it all in my mind's eye and I feel good about it. Even with the state of the economy and life being a bit chaotic now, I still feel very positive about our store and it's success. It's going to be wonderful.

Speaking of wonderful things ... I'm knitting up a lovely meditations stole to sell in the store. It's a delicate angora/silk lace weight yarn in a dusty lavender color. When it's finished I'm going to stitch little crystal beads on it. Yeah, there is a way to attach the beads while you are knitting but I didn't think about it until I'd already started. This particular on is a basic garter stitch on large needles. Creates the illusion of lace without the complication of actually knitting a real lace pattern.

But it's making me brave .....

I made a trip to Asheville to AC Moore Crafts and bought some other yarns for shawls/stoles. While I was there I found a book, Wrapped in Comfort by Alison Jeppson Hyde, which completely and totally snagged my soul. Holy schmoly! I am so hooked. The shawls are amazing. They are so delicate and feminine. I want one of each. Yes, I'm aware that's a rather hysterical statement coming from me. But believe me, these shawls are simply dreamy. Granted, I'm not quite ready to jump into knitting one up just yet but I've been on the net looking for the yarn for the one I do intend to make. Handmaiden Yarn. In my humble opinion, it ranks right up there with chocolate. It's nasty expensive, too. Fortunately the shawl I want to knit only requires one skein. Whew!

Making any one of them would gear me up for this frothy bit of yarnage ... Best of Interweave Knits. *Note image on cover.* I have the pattern in one of my issues of Interweave Knits. When I got that magazine I sat and stared at that shawl with my mouth hanging open. It's a beautiful piece of work. It was a vague, distant thought in my little brain that I would ever dare to attempt such an accomplishment as knitting up a lace shawl. Intimidating is an understatement. At the time, I was still only dreaming of making my sweater. Ya' know, I really think knitting that sweater caused something in my cranial cavity to snap loose. Half way through I was envisioning piles of sweaters, things with cables and fancy-pants stitches, big and snuggly afghans, socks and thick footies. And, yes, even daring to think of knitting lace. My knit-freak kicked in, or on, or whatever. Gah!

So, now I'm on the rampage of knitting prayer/meditation shawls/stoles for the store. I don't know that I'm going to be able to part with them after I knit them. Oy! That's a depressing thought. Maybe I'll use the Handmaiden yarns for ones for me and other yarns for the ones for the store. Yeah! Excellent. Cake and eat it, too.

Namaste y'all ...

The big day ...

Tomorrow.

That's a nice word.

Why?

Paul and I officially open our store tomorrow. How cool is that??? As an added bonus, we've already had three sales in the past two days and we weren't even open for business. Rah! I'll tell y'all the truth, there were days I had my doubts we'd ever see the open sign on our door. It's been a long three months. I'm just tickled pink, I am. I'd be even happier about it if I wasn't sick. Ain't that a kicker? Opening a natural healing center and a co-owner is sick with a cold. Dandy. Fortunately, I'm on the mend. And, I've got drugs. Sometimes they are a necessity. I think this is one of those times. Should the drugs fail, my neighbor gave me a bottle of Mr. Boston's Rock & Rye. That stuff, of course, would either cure me or kill me.

Wow. I can't believe it's been so long since I last blogged. That whole 'blog every day' kinda' got shot in the buttocks, didn't it? Sorry 'bout that. Life hasn't been cooperating on some levels of late. Blog time being one of those levels. I suppose I should catch y'all up on the news.

Where to begin?

Ah! The Dream Sweater. Yes, my dear ones, it is complete. I actually finished it on Friday, March 11. Just in time for a special event my best buddy, Kasey, was having that evening. Weather permitted that I was able to wear it a couple more times before it got too warm. I know, I know. I should have taken a photo of me wearing it, but this will have to do ....

Lovely.

Sadly, the colors don't show well in the photo, nor the slight sheen from the silk content of the yarn. But, suffice it to say, the sweater looks like the inside of an abalone shell - with fuzz - from the kid mohair content. You can kind of see the colors on the sleeves. I really like my sweater. I guess I damn well aught to considering the cost of that Prism Indulgence yarn. The only sad part of this endeavor is that it's now really too warm to wear it. Oh well. I'll keep it near, fondle it with affection, and wait for cold weather so I can wear it EVERY FREAKIN' DAY.

The state of the economy hit home, literally speaking. The day my Mamaw died my husband lost his job. The company he drives for is closing three of their terminals ... one of which he operates out of. Rather excellent timing, wouldn't you agree? I had just gotten over to my uncle's house with Mamaw's personal belongings from the nursing home when the husband called with the news. I think I was past the point of even being surprised. The up side is that he was given 60 days to find a new job before the gates close. Great. So we're waiting to hear back from another company he applied to. Cross your fingers.

The hummingbirds are back! Okay, I've only seen two or three so far but I put out all the feeders. I just love my hummers. They make me happy. I could sit (and have) for hours watching their antics and territorial disputes over those feeders. What they lack in size is more than made up for in aggressive defense of a claimed feeder. Last year, one cocky little buzzard tried to horde two feeders. Worked his ass off trying to defend them. He was finally forced to concede one to a zippy, hot-shot female who decided he needed to be put in his place. A few fly-by head thumps and her chosen feeder was won. Feisty little bitch.

I'm sad to say my studio has seen very little of me these past several weeks. I did sort of finish one abstract I've been working on but I'm not pleased with the result. Looks more like a Monet-ish landscape. It's the second attempt at this particular abstract and I'm not sure why I can't get it to work out. I'm still 'stewing' on this version, trying to figure a way to tweak it somehow. It just doesn't feel as good to me as the other abstracts I've done. It's a conundrum.

I also gessoed over the Kwan Yin I'd been working on for months. Like the abstract, the painting simply wasn't working out as I wanted. I'd paint a little here, paint a little there, try this, try that. All for naught. I know exactly how I want the end product to look and what was on that canvas just wasn't cuttin' the mustard. I'd had a similar problem when I was working on Preordained and I spent a ridiculous amount of time stressing over getting it right. While the end result of that particular painting turned out well enough, I wasn't prepared to go through the same stress with this Kwan Yin. Hence the gesso. When all else fails, drop back and punt, so to speak. I'll redraw it off on my nicely primed canvas and give it another go. I think I may use it as the first work-in-progress on my website's Wet Brush page. Hey, the first photo will be easy ... a blank canvas!

My mother had a birthday on the 16th. She's 71. She's also a Jehovah's Witness and they don't do birthdays. Needless to say, I called her up and said, "Happy day. Of course, I'd wish you a Happy Birthday but I know that would just get your knickers in a twist." I'll give her credit. She laughed. Why is it you don't really think about your parents getting old? I simply do not think of Mother as being 71. It's like she's stuck at 59ish, or there'bouts, in my head. Granted, her hair is as snow white as I'm dreaming mine will some day be. But snow white hair does not mean a person is old. And it's true, she's not as physically active/capable as she used to be, etc., etc., etc. I think I just see so much of the same hypochondria steadily coming out in her as it was with my grandmother for years and years. The really bad thing about it with Mother is she has internet access. That's like giving an addict a key to the pharmacy.

So, when she starts her "aches & complaints" I tune it out. For all I know, it may come a day when there is a legitimate complaint and I'm not going to believe her. That's the thing about hypochondria, you hear so much pissing and moaning about all these self-created illnesses that a real illness isn't accepted as real. Think The Boy Who Cried Wolf. If I recall the story correctly, the wolf ate all his sheep in the end. Oh, I won't go into all the psychology and blah, blah, blah about why Mother is like she is. Let's just say she's spent her whole life looking for a way to be noticed. She's done that in a variety of ways over the years and illness is her method of choice now. Well, has been for several years. Truth is, I feel sorry for her. She's a very unhappy person. Nothing can be done about it. It's her choice.

Well, I certainly can't end this post on such a sour note but I don't have much else to tell ya' right now. Hmmm. What uplifting thing can I tell y'all about? Oh yeah ...

We open our store tomorrow!!!

Namaste, y'all ...

In the blink of an eye.

My grandmother went into the hospital on Saturday, March 29th and we buried her on Saturday, April 4th. She was 92 years old. I'm still in a somewhat surprised and confused state-of-mind. Honestly, I didn't think I would be this upset. I haven't been as close with her over the past few years as I was when I was younger. I've been busy and I didn't go visit with her much over the past year or so.

I know she's gone, yet, I feel as if I could still jump in my Jeep, swing by the store for a bag of her favorite bite-sized Mounds candy bars, drive over to Autumn Care, the nursing home she's been in for several years, and we could sit in her room and have a chat. On the other hand, I don't know if I could even look at the wrapper of those candy bars without bursting into tears. She'd always light up like a Christmas tree when I'd bring her a bag of them. They, and a host of other things, will forever remind me of my "Mamaw".

She always had wintergreen Certs in her pocketbook. She never once said a thing about me or my cousins sneaking them every chance we got. I'll never forget the day I discovered the stash of them she kept in her dresser drawer. It was then I realized she wasn't just buying those Certs for herself, she got them for us, too.

She always kept a bottle of Nivea lotion on her dresser. When I was a little kid I thought that stuff was for old ladies. At first I didn't care too much for the smell of it. Then it became the scent I most associated with Mamaw. I remember how she'd rub it on her hands and arms then give me a hug. My whole head would be enveloped in the scent of that lotion. Over the years I've discovered that Nivea is not only a damn good lotion, it's one of the few that is okay for a vegetarian, eco-conscious person like myself to use. I'm sure my Mamaw didn't think about that. She just liked the stuff.

She made the absolute best gingerbread in the world. Not gingerbread that's used for cookies and table-top houses at Christmas. I'm talking about the real, old fashioned kind that's made in loaves like bread. It's dark, moist and has a sharp bite of ginger with a hint of clove. The smell, when it's baking, is enough to make you drool all over yourself. I used to hover all around her kitchen, waiting impatiently for her to pull it out of the oven and set it on the table. She always made me wait about 10 minutes for it to cool before she would take it out of the pan. Though it was really still too hot to hold, I'd snatch a piece and stuff it in my mouth. I didn't care if I scalded my tongue and burned my fingers. Fresh from the oven was the best way to eat that stuff. I'm really gonna' miss Mamaw's "famous" gingerbread.

I got my love of quilting from her. I even have some of the last quilt squares she started packed away in my studio closet. Mamaw made quilts the old fashioned way ... handmade. My Mamaw and Papaw were poor, so she would collect old shirts, dresses, aprons, or whatever cloth she could get her hands on. Each piece of fabric was cut out individually from a pattern made out of paper or cardboard. All the pieces were sewn together by hand. Then, the entire thing was hand quilted either on her lap or on a quilt frame. She never used a modern rotary cutter or a sewing machine to make her quilts. No, Sir. They were entirely handmade. That, y'all, was a true labor of love.

I remember one she made for me when I was about eight years old. It was a traditional scrap quilt in a basic block pattern. It wasn't fancy but it was made from hundreds of different scraps of material. No two pieces were the same. I used to sit on my bed and look at all the different fabrics and how she'd cut them out in what is called a "fancy cut". If the fabric had a particular design, say butterflies and flowers, she would make sure she cut the fabric so the butterfly would be in the center of the square or triangle.

But the best quilt of hers I've ever had was one she made out of big scraps of stuff. Being rather thrifty, she used an old worn out quilt as the batting layer between the newer quilt layers. Because it was so thick, the new quilt was a "tied quilt", meaning instead of stitching all the layers together she used bits of yarn in strategically placed spots to tie the layers together so they wouldn't shift. What resulted wasn't a very pretty quilt but it was without doubt the heaviest and warmest quilt I've ever had. I loved that quilt like a security blanket. I used it for years and years. It quite literally fell apart from age and use. It was ugly but I'll admit I still miss the damn thing.

Mamaw had the greenest thumb of anyone I've ever known. I swear she could grow flowers from a bare stick. Although Mamaw didn't have a good eye for landscaping she loved flowers and growing things in her yard. Every place she ever lived felt the touch of that green thumb. She spent hours digging, planting and tending her yard. I can't tell you how many times I've pulled up in the driveway to see my grandmother's backside in the air as she bent over to pinch off a faded bloom or poke some new seedling in the dirt.

She loved birds and was a sharpshooter with a sling-shot against marauding cats who dared stalk her bird feeders. I think the only time I ever heard her say a "cuss word" was in respect to some cat getting in her yard and killing one of her birds.

I won't say she was a perfect grandmother. Mamaw had her quirks and idiosyncrasies. At times you'd want to duck tape her mouth shut. She never stopped talking. She was a hypochondriac as well. I've seen her so mad at one doctor who didn't agree with her diagnosis she could have chewed nails. She'd gone in, barely shuffling her feet and leaning heavily on her cane. When he said she was healthy as a 40 year old woman (she was 60 at the time) Mamaw literally jumped off the exam table and stormed out of his office, cane left propped against the wall. Her kitchen cabinet looked like a pharmacy.

But I know she loved me. She would have done anything for me. Would have given me her last dime if I'd needed it. The Saturday she was taken to the hospital she told any and all who would listen about her granddaughter, the artist. She was my biggest fan. And because of that, Mamaw was the only one I still let call me by my nick-name, the nick-name my father gave me the day I was born. I was premature and weighed 5 lbs. like a bag of sugar. Thus, he dubbed me "Suggie", pronounced with an "sh" like sugar. It took me sixteen years to convert the family to calling me by my given name, Carol, and shed that damn nick-name. The only hold-out was Mamaw. She tried, but 98% of the time she'd forget and call me Suggie.

When she was taken from the hospital back to the nursing home on Tuesday she was sedated with Valium and pretty much unresponsive. Later that afternoon she roused up a little and opened her eyes. She was still kinda' loopy and asked me who I was. I leaned over and said, "Hey Mamaw, it's Carol." She looked confused. So I said, "It's me, it's Suggie." It was the last time she fully opened her eyes and looked at me with recognition. Even though she never opened her eyes again for me, she knew I was there. I'm really glad of that.

I do have regrets and I know it's only natural to do so. I can sit here and say I should have done this or I should have done that, but I know it's a moot point. I can't change or redo any part of my past in regards to my Mamaw. But I can remember her. I can celebrate those memories in my heart. I can say she knew I loved her and I knew she loved me. Here at the end, that's all that matters.

Namaste, y'all ...

Sometimes there is no simple answer.

Sometimes it really amazes me at the lengths people will go to when they feel slighted or if they don't like someone else. And yeah, I'll admit it, at one point in my life I wasn't much different. I'm a Scorpio and the Scorpio motto is "Don't get mad, get even ... even if it takes a lifetime." I'm glad to be able to say I grew up. I realized the error of that kind of thinking. It not only takes away from the person you seek revenge against but also from yourself. The meaning of life is lost with such an attitude.

Sadly, some people never do come to understand that. A fact which came home to me yesterday through an email a friend of mine received. I won't go into all the nitty-gritty details. Suffice it to say someone (let's call her Diane for the sake of this tale) doesn't like my friend (or me) and is trying to cause problems in our lives. What I think even sadder than Diane's immaturity is her complete ignorance of how truly ineffectual and ignorant she is. I'm not just talking about the grammatical errors and punctuation mistakes running amok in the email either. And y'all, they were embarrassingly bad. Although the email was anonymously sent, there were things said in it which only a very small handful of people would/could know. Diane being one of that handful. Ummmm ... kinda' stupid to mention things that aren't public knowledge ......

What I'm also talking about in her being ineffectual and ignorant is how, somewhere in town, she is sitting around feeling gleeful, thinking she has hurt my friend and I. No, more than hurt, she thinks she has potentially caused us to loose our jobs, be forced to close our business, etc. I'm talking really bad stuff. And she is HAPPY to think it's going to happen. She WANTS it to happen. She has deliberately, with malice and aforethought, tried to make it happen. She honestly doesn't understand people see through such crap. They see someone trying to cause trouble and turn away. Oh sure, maybe one or two people might get on the bandwagon because they are as ignorant as she is, but not many will respond the way Diane thinks they will. Too many people already know the truth of the matter. And in regards to me personally, well, I'm taken care of and that's all I need to say about that.

What kind of emptiness lives in the heart of a person like that? She reminds me of an angry, vengeful child raging against some perceived injury or slight, reacting to the extreme. It's the action of a lost, hopeless soul. It's the action of someone with no sense of themselves, no connection to the Divine, no joy, no love, nothing. Void of all that is good in the world. She feeds herself on negative emotions, darkness and despair. She is always the victim, never the survivor. The broken feather, never the wings in flight. She lives life miserable and alone. And she will die alone, by bits and pieces each day. Her soul cries out and finds no comforting arms to cradle it with hope or light. She has no trust, no faith and no compassion. What a horrible life it must be.

It's useless to ask why someone would be so cruel. I think, for me, the question is more of what is the right way for me to react. I have to say my very first reaction to hearing about the email was that I laughed. Yep, I laughed. In a store parking lot, in my Jeep, on the phone, laughing. I was struck by Diane's stupidity in thinking her responsibility wasn't glaringly, blatantly, obvious. It's just incredible anyone can be so, well, stupid.

My second reaction was to feel bad for third party who was indirectly attacked with this email. He's innocent of anything other than being someone's employer. The fact that it could seriously impact his business probably never even crossed Diane's mind. Again, stupid. I don't think someone else should be hurt just because you think you have a bone to pick with me. But then again, if a person is so empty as I've said, they don't have enough sense to see the whole picture. They most certainly don't have sense enough to care whom they hurt, now do they? Clearly, Diane is such a person.

After having thought about it more over the course of the evening I realized that the best reaction is to ask the Divine to take care of it. However it's supposed to work out, it will do so through higher channels than moi. Yes, I'm blogging about it, and it's there is a distinct likelihood Diane will read this, but that's also Okay. I'm not attacking her, I'm discussing and stating opinions - which I'm allowed to do on my own blog. I'm thinking "out loud" in a manner of speaking. I'm not venting. I'm not angry. I'm simply sad that somewhere along the line another person decided I, and my friends & family, deserve to be attacked and I didn't (that I'm aware of) do anything wrong.

I've known Diane a long time. While I've not been close friends with her, I have tried to be nice. I have tried to be honest, to be friendly, to help her when I could. Why? Because it's not only the right thing to do but because I, to a degree, empathize with her. I see something in her not a lot of people look past the mask she wears to hide behind and will see. I know she had a difficult life growing up. I know she's angry and scared. She wants desperately to be accepted but only feels rejection. Unfortunately, that's something she brings on herself. She's fighting back at a world she perceives to be unjust and unkind. The cold truth is she just wants someone to care about her (don't we all???) and she is her only obstacle to having what she so deeply wants.

It's sad, but Diane's behavior, her attitude and way of presenting herself is exactly what causes people to walk away from being friends with her. When someone can't be honest with themselves how can they be honest with you? How can they bring joy to your life if they can't bring it to their own? How can you trust them if they won't be trustworthy? When someone talks, with pleasure, about trying to hurt someone you can only wonder when they are going to get around to trying to hurt you as well.

There is no easy answer to this situation. Well, yeah, let God sort it out. Okay, I can do that. Although I might wish differently, I know there is no way to reach out to Diane, to say or do anything to help her or alter her perception of being wronged. I know I can't make her life anything other than what she makes of it for herself. What I can do is say I'm sorry for whatever she thinks I personally have done to her, even if I don't believe I have done anything wrong. I can and will, with clear conscience, walk away from Diane and any attempt at being friendly with her from this point on. I may feel empathy for her but that doesn't mean I have to subject myself, or anyone around me, to such a person. I can and do wish her well on her journey in this life and pray that some day she will find a light, find joy, find comfort, and most of all, find love.

Namaste y'all ...

A little on the crazy side ...

Where to even begin?

So much going on, a bazillion and two things happening around here. It's been kinda' nuts. My brain, usually on the overactive side anyway, has been teetering on the cusp of meltdown stage. I really need a vacation. That or a nice dose of medication. I wouldn't object to either.

One of the biggest reasons for my extended absence around the blogging arena was that my computer got the hiccups. First bit of drama was my modem, an ancient leviathan from the Stone Age, got it in it's head that I didn't really need to stay connected to the internet for more than five minutes at a stretch. Occasionally it took pity and let me stay connected for six minutes. Hard to do much computing when you can't stay online. This went on for a couple of weeks. I talked to my computer guru friend and we scheduled for him to pop in a new modem for me.

Then, to add insult to injury and before the new modem got installed, I was minding my own business one afternoon, installing Windows Service Pack 2, and right around the "finalizing" stage the power blipped out for about 3 seconds. Yep. Not a good thing to happen when you're installing a Service Pack. In short, things the computer needed to function didn't get installed and thus the monster wouldn't crank back up. Called my guru friend and begged for help. The man has the patience of a saint. Unfortunately, he doesn't have as much free time as he used to, so I existed in limbo for about three weeks without my computer. Funny thing, I almost got used to not having it around. Of course, all the computer crap I needed to do piled up and I've been busting my hump trying to catch up.

But good things happened ....

Even though I swore, yes I swore, that I wouldn't start on my dream sweater the power of the yarn overcame me and I succumbed. I had done my little swatch for gauge. Frogged it and reknit it four times because I wasn't getting gauge. Cussed about it some. Fretted about it a lot. Fondled the yarn with longing. Read the pattern dozens of times. Fretted about it some more. I balled all thirteen skeins, telling myself it was just a preparatory thing. Ya' know, getting my ducks in a row for when the big day came. I fretted a little more. Wicked knitting faeries whispered in my ear, "Knit. Knit. Knit." So I started knitting. Who would have thunk it? I reasoned that I couldn't work on the computer. Paint has to have time to dry. Books can wait to be read. Could only do just so many other things in a day. What could it hurt?

Heh, heh, heh. I confess, I became obsessed.

On the weekends the husband sat beside me on the sofa watching movies while I knit. One Saturday evening, when all that yarn started taking shape, he leaned over, kissed me on the cheek and said, "I'm really proud of you." I felt like a real knitter. I was making my dream sweater. Holy Schmoly. I've watched it grow from that little row of cast on stitches into a real sweater. My stomach in twisty knots with every stitch. Directions right beside me at all times, encased in it's protective plastic sleeve, with my The Knitting Answer Book by Margaret Radcliffe on the other side. I used my stitch markers, counted rows & stitches, learned increasing, said prayers to the Goddess of Knitting under my breath. I'm now down to the last half of the second sleeve. A few inches from the finish line.

And it's beautiful.

Even better ... it fits.

I don't care (oh all right, yeah I do, but it's Okay) that I goofed in a few places. A mis-stitch here and there. They don't show. The important thing is that it's a big achievement for me. I'm thrilled that I've gone beyond dishcloths and scarves. I'm surprising myself by thinking of the next things I want to knit ... and some of them involve those scary cable knit patterns! Yee Hah. I want to knit socks. I want to knit more sweaters. I want to knit afghans and lacy shawls. It's freaky. It's bold. It's wonderful. Knit stitch and Purl stitch, you are my buddies. Bring on the increases! Bring on the decreases! Wrap me in knitting bliss. I could almost give up quilting to do naught but knit.

Almost.

I'm not that obsessed.

I'll post a photo when the sweater is done.

At long last my website is up and running. Version VI. I was a bundle of nerves when I hit that "publish" button. I'm on dial-up. It took eons to upload. I kept thinking bad stuff was going to happen. Then I would take a deep breath and mentally smack myself for such thoughts. It has been a rough, rocky road to getting the damn thing online. So much work. So much time. A weight on my shoulders. It's so much bigger than the previous incarnations and I grew frustrated with all the nit picky crap more times than I can count. But it's out there now. And it looks nice.

Yep, there are still things to be done and an extra tweak or two left hanging, but it's basically finished. If you haven't already, give it a peek at www.carolsmartinez.com. I must say that I'm pleased with the overall design. I think I can live with this one for a long time. It's got room to grow, a place for everything, a much more personal presentation of the work. It's soft, feminine (which I find somewhat surprising because I'm not really very "girly"), and it's colorful yet still complements the art, etc. I like it.

If you've seen my site before you will notice that the name has changed from "Art Magic" to "Glissade". I debated the new name for quite a few weeks. I wanted it to be reflective of the overall site, of me, of the direction I am moving in my life. I spent hours researching names on the internet, reading the thesaurus and dictionary. While I wanted it to be different, slightly unusual, I didn't want it to sound pretentious or stupid. One of the meanings for word glissade is "poetry in motion" and I had used that as the title to one of the husband's songs a few years ago. It seemed to fit for the new site name.

Speaking of changes, one of the new additions is a page for my Intuitive Tarot & Psychic readings. I felt it was time to put that out into the world. With the new page I will be better able to work for people outside of my local area. I like to help people. It's why I do the readings in the first place. And while I realize that I'm just one eleventy-million people with an internet page for readings, I know those who need/want my help will find it. "Build it and they will come."

In all honesty, I debated for a long time whether or not to include the Tarot page. Not because I feared being attacked nor because I'm embarrassed or ashamed and feel I should keep what I do in a closet. My hesitation came in decided if the website should stay focused strictly on my artwork as it's been all along, all previous five versions. What I came to realize is that my psychic skills are as important to me as my art skills. Both make up who I am. They are interrelated, interwoven, inseparable. In addition to practicing Reiki, which a page for that was added as well, I am an artist and a psychic. All three are the main focus of my life and as my website is an extension of those things, I felt they should all be included. I believe it was the right decision.

In my last blog entry I told you that my friend and business partner, Paul, and I were relocating our Reiki center to the upstairs area of the building we were currently located in. I'm tickled pink to report the move is almost complete. If all goes well we will officially open the first week of April. Rah! It's been a lot of work getting the space prepared in a relatively short amount of time, especially since it's only been the two of us working as much as we possibly can. Patching walls, slinging paint, fixing booth spaces, etc. We started at the beginning of February and it's now almost the end of March. If we had had the money to hire a contractor to do the work they may have gotten it done faster but I don't believe they would have done a better job. It all really looks good.

We've still got to get a couple more vendors to stock product in that section of the space but it's coming along. It's all been done on a virtually non-existent budget. Fortunately, Paul and I are creative and have done very well making a lovely place out of almost nothing. I'm proud of what we've accomplished. The difference in the space is night and day from what the previous tenant had and I believe customers/clients will like coming in. There have already been a number of people peeking in the windows and asking about what's going into the space. It's welcoming and relaxing. It feels open, with good energy flow and light. With every paint stroke and swipe of a cleaning rag I've carried the thought of filling our space with hope, love and positive energy. I think it's going to be successful, and it won't take long to get there. But for now, there are a number of those little finishing things to do, getting stock in the store area, and such. As anxious as I am to open I know it's still got a short bit to go. It's an exercise in patience for me. I just keep repeating to myself that "you never get a second chance to make a first impression." It's more important to me to have it done as right as we can when we finally open the door to the public. And it will be. I know it.

The down side to Carol's World events is that with all the work going into the Reiki space for the past couple of months I've not been as focused on my art as I would like to have been. I just haven't had the energy for both. I have been working on an abstract for the art project but it's not working out like I have envisioned in my head. I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong. It's laying back there on the floor in my studio, frustrating me. I should probably put it aside and work on something else. Thing is, I don't want to work on anything else until I finish this one. Later this evening I'm going to go back into the studio and mess with it some more. I'll turn on the stereo, light some incense, try to not think of all the other stuff I need to be doing, and just paint. Sounds like a good plan anyway.

And to prevent this post from becoming an epic novel I'll shut up now and say ...

Namaste, y'all ...

Finito!, for the moment anyway.

Ah, at long last, I'm done with the first bunch of paintings for my secret art project. It remains to be seen whether this will be the only ones I do or if I'll create any more. I took photos of the work and have sent them off to be judged. Now I must wait to see what comes next. I've also sent out one of those "hope you're hearing me" wishes to the great and wise Divine to let it be whatever it's supposed to be. All I can do. I will be adding the work to my website regardless of the outcome. It's still my art. Still can sell the originals or prints if the project doesn't go any further.

I must say it's been tough working on this. Kinda' like driving blind. I was given some suggestions for subject/theme, then left to figure out what to do with it. I would like to be able to explain more, and then y'all would better understand, but it's still just an "idea" in the works and I'm not at liberty to talk about it. What I will tell you is that it involves my possibly being able to get prints into a large chain retail store. Would be pretty cool, huh? I think so. Thing is, there are a lot of hurdles to overcome for such a thing to happen. Right now, I only have a toe in the door. Baby toe at that. That's okay. I'm not expecting miracles. This is just making an attempt and, as I said, letting it be whatever it will be.

Moving on.

Other news in Carol's world is my friend/business partner, Paul, and I are relocating our Reiki business. Yee Ha! We've been in a downstairs/basement area of a building on Main St. since we started back in the late fall of last year. Between getting set up, holidays, etc. we haven't advertised much or done anything more than get the space ready, get some brochures and business cards printed and other minor things. We'd planned on getting more serious minded with the business of the business in this early part of this year. As things often go, we got a sudden, but not totally unexpected, shift in the plan.

The woman who operates a store in the upstairs, street level area of the building is closing shop. Long story there. Anyway, Paul and I are relocating the Reiki center into this upstairs space. The other store will be officially closed by tomorrow so we'll get keys and will be able to start the process of cleaning/painting the space by the weekend. We've got our paint colors picked, have been sketching out and discussing best use of the space for arrangement of everything, making plans, doing the thing. Provided the stars align as they should we will open on March 1st. I've got to tell ya' the truth, I'm excited about it.

There are no other such business in this town. We have before us an excellent opportunity to build something unique, viable, and beneficial for us as well as the community. While we do have immediate financial limitations, I believe Paul and I are creative and resourceful enough to work around it. We've got many options available to us to help us build this wellness center into something very nice, something to be proud of. We will be able to have a good sized space to provide merchandise for sale, things like salt lamps and incense - products which are suited to such a business. We will have space available to rent booth areas to other alternative healing practitioners such as massage therapists, acupuncturists, etc. We will have space to offer reiki, yoga, tai chi, etc. classes and a host of other similar things.

Yes, there is a definite opportunity here, and I've started putting the word out to people who may have a service/product, or who may know of someone who would be an asset to our business. There are lots of people here in this area who make everything from natural soaps to decorative household items which would be complementary to our center, but they have no where to practice or promote their service/product. It could be a win-win situation for us all. I have hundreds of thoughts and ideas swirling around in my head. I have to keep pulling myself back to reality, to not jump ahead of myself, to not get too anxious or excited ... but it's hard to turn the ol' brain off.

For some months I've seen something like this in my head. I've stood in that upstairs area talking to the lady who owns that shop and had visions of what it could be if it were "mine" to do a store in. Of course, so much is limited with that because I don't have hundreds or thousands of dollars to crank up a business with. But I kept "seeing" it every time I stepped foot in the door. I would go home and catch myself daydreaming of "what if". I even put it out to the Universe that if something like it were possible I would very much want it to happen. Well, I may not be getting it on the grand scale I dreamed of, but it's a start. It's a baby step for Paul and I to have something, be a part of something, that is near and dear to both our hearts. We have been given a wonderful opportunity. A really wonderful opportunity. It's going to be a big change to my life, but a positive change.

In realizing this, I've also started to see things in other areas of my life changing as well. It's not even really noticeable to anyone else but me, but it's still happening none the less.

My art and my feelings toward my art are shifting. I'm finding, and trusting, that inner space of a stronger conviction of painting what I want to paint and saying to heck! with what anyone else thinks, says or feels. I've struggled with this for a very long time. I've done many paintings not because I wanted to but because I felt a push from some outside source to paint them. I won't explain all the deep, dark personal reasons I've allowed myself to be pushed. I know the what and the why and that's all that's really important, that I see it, understand it, and finally, make an attempt to confront and overcome it. I feel I'm beginning to.

The art for the "project" was a big push in that direction, too. While I was given lots of room to create the work, it was still restricted to a certain theme, a definite niche' of a particular market. Now, the potential for profitability jumped up and bit me on the butt right off - I won't deny that fact for a minute. I almost immediately started thinking in somewhat cliche' imagery for creating the paintings. I was thinking in terms of standard commissioned art. But somewhere something clicked and I just couldn't do it. I ventured off on another road, an entirely different route to the same destination. I kept the theme but produced it in what would be considered a non-traditional style. I couldn't produce cookie cutter stuff. I just couldn't.

Unlike my usual commission process, I actually took the time to evaluate just exactly what I would do if the scenario were that it was a definite go on the project, not just a toe in the door thing. Would I suck it up and paint things I don't want to paint just for the money? Oh how that's a deeply complicated and tough question to face when you're trying to make a living as an artist. Do you sacrifice for money or do you hold to your desire to create what is in your heart and pray it pays off somewhere in the end?

Some artists have the luxury, however it is for them, to not have to deal with those kinds of questions. They have freedom to paint what they want ... and they make money doing so. Some artists have to spend their entire lives painting at someone else's whimsy just to make any money at all from their skills. Their own work is done quietly, maybe hangs on the wall of their studio, and it never sees the light of day outside of their own space. For many years, I've been more the latter of the two examples. Most of the money I've made from my skill as an artist has not been from the sale of my own personal creations. Instead, it's come from commissioned works. I've painted what other people wanted me to paint. And it's been hard. Very hard.

Over the last couple of years I've felt more and more resistance to it, too. In the beginning it was great - someone requested my work! Thrill! Then it slowly became more of a chore, a dreaded job in a dark, windowless cubicle. It helped develop my skills with the mediums and the subject matter, but it did nothing for my artist's heart & soul. I kept questioning why I didn't just go get a "real" job and paint as a hobby for all the enjoyment I got out of painting anymore. That dream I had when I moved back here to be a full-time artist, of earning my living as an artist, faded from a blazing neon light to a sputtering candle flame. It didn't go out, but it's illumination dimmed to almost nothing. Going down the hall into the studio was about as enjoyable as a getting a bikini wax.

After I was first contacted about the art project I caught myself mentally wrestling with ideas and a nagging pull of finding a way to do the work but not do it as I knew was expected. Honestly, something in me just snapped. I was sitting in the middle of my studio floor, surrounded by books and magazines I'd collected for reference materials and I said, "F&%# it." I decided to create work I wanted to create and let the chips fall where they may. Two of the paintings are done in the Art Nouveau style. And folks, that set off a really big spark of light.

I suddenly had pictures and ideas for paintings jumping around in my head like popcorn in a hot skillet. I couldn't fall asleep at night for thinking about them. I'll bet I painted a hundred pictures in my head over the course of a couple of days. I felt excitement about my art that I haven't in, well, years. I wanted to throw the art project to the wind and start making the pictures in my head. I wanted to shut myself away in my studio and hope that some nice person would come feed my cat and maybe slip some grub under the door to me, too. Nice, but not likely to happen.

Despite this burst of enthusiasm I still felt that push ... do the work for the project, put my wants and desires on the back burner until it's done. Be a professional. Go for the potential money the project could bring. Suck it up and do the work. Even if it's not a real commission, treat it like one. Do the work. It was frustrating. It was stressful. No matter that the work I was creating was still "my ideas, not theirs" it became a chore to complete. There were a few days near the end that it was so hard to walk down the hall into my studio and pick up my paintbrush. Some days I had to make myself do it. Some days I simply couldn't. I'd get up, get dressed, jump in the Jeep and drive into town just to hang out with my friend Paul. I was avoiding being in the house.

I'm still getting pushed from another source to do work I really don't care to do. Again, it's personal and I'm not going to elaborate. Suffice it to say, it's still a push. But I'm finding a stronger ability to resist it. I'm winning some of those guilty conscience arguments that zing though my head. I'm feeling better about that, too. I see me taking a chance to change a behavioral attitude/pattern I've succumbed to for far too long. It's scary, yet I realize it's very, very good.

I'm giving myself freedom in the one place that is truly, deeply important to me ... my art. I've looked at other artist's websites and I see them doing exactly what I want to do. No, not the style of art, but their ability to do work they want to do and get paid for it - and apparently paid well. I've seen some who have grown from almost nothing to damn near a household name within their genre of art, all in a relatively short amount of time. Admittedly, I have envied them and their success. I have wished it for myself. But what I realized is although I have wished it, I didn't even know who I really was as an artist. I had only a vague idea of what I really wanted to do. How could I get something if I didn't have a clue what I was asking for?

Therein comes another big change I've experienced recently. If I'm totally honest with myself, I do know what I want to create. I'm not sure of precisely how - this being simply technique and I'll have to practice a bit with that part - but I know the work. I've seen it it my head. I've spent the last couple of months envisioning it. Hell, I've spent years secretly, in the recesses of my artist's heart, dreaming of it. When I allowed for the possibility of doing it my mind reeled. I lost sleep over it. I felt that sputtering candle catch fire and burn brightly. And I feel good about it. I feel something promising in the air. I almost feel as if I can't do the work fast enough. I'm both happy and scared at the same time. I'm risking to go forward, but risking even more to stand still ... and I know this. For once, I'm no longer willing to risk standing still.

Somehow, it also feels like only the beginning, the tip of the iceberg. More changes are coming, and not just with my art. Changes will come when Paul and I open the doors to our new reiki space. I'm going to be meeting new people who will bring other changes to my life. I'm letting go of things that don't work for me anymore: physically, creatively, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. This feels like a momentous year ahead. I don't feel the old weight of things holding me down, holding me back as I have for most of my life. But most importantly, these changes all feel, on an intuitive level, only positive, as if I'm walking out of a dark room into sunlight.

And for me, that is probably the biggest change of all ... to not feel as if there is something mysterious and threatening lurking in the wings, waiting with baited breath, to pull the curtain just when I'm ready to sing my solo. It's rather unnerving, to tell you the truth. I keep glancing over my shoulder for my old dead-weight companion. I actually catch myself sitting up straighter when I realize it isn't there.

But, ya' know, I think that maybe for this evening I've rambled on enough and should probably go fix myself some dinner.

Namaste y'all ...

I'm glad it's the end of the week.

It's been a slightly crazy day, so I've decided to post something to make me feel better ...

Snow days are made for sleeping in ...

When I woke up this morning this is what was outside ...

This is my Jeep in the snow ...



When Creepy went to the back door for her morning
excursion outside (surveying her domain),
she took one look at the porch and decided to do this instead ...

Can't say I blame her. I wanted to curl up with her and do the snoozy thing, too. Instead, I went into the studio and started painting. I'm still contemplating a cat nap after lunch ...

Namaste y'all ...

Shoppers running amok ...

It's Wednesday. Middle of the week. Rah. What adds insult to injury is the impending storm that doth approach, sending hoards of milk and bread buyers to the grocery store to stock their pantries against hazards inflicted by the Weather God. And yes, I was among those crazed individuals, Being a Friday Domestic Goddess on Wednesday. It was a most unpleasant experience. Trust me.

What is it about the possibility of snow/freezing rain that makes people think I MUST HAVE MILK AND BREAD AT ALL COSTS!? It's as interesting a phenomenon as it is scary. They get in the store and wheel those buggies around like it's the last time they will ever be allowed to shop again. Add in babies crying on every other isle. Sweet little old gray haired ladies, their husbands in tow - and obviously deeply out of their natural element - holding up traffic as they peruse and inspect every item on every shelf on every isle. As long as they've been shopping for groceries you'd think they could do it blindfolded. Last but not least is the totally disgusted and hostile youths who have been sent to retrieve milk and bread by their mothers, who are stuck in an office somewhere and don't want to fight the after work hours doubly insane shopping hoards. Can't say I blame them. They are one of the reasons I was doing my own shopping at 10:00am this morning. The pre-Noon crazies are bad enough, the after-five crazies are simply dangerous and best avoided whenever humanly possible.

Well, it's all good now. I'm home. Got some housework done and mosied myself into the studio to paint. I'm here at the computer 'cause I'm waiting for paint to dry. I've felt the pull to work on the website all day but I have refrained. I need a short break even if I'm "this close". Maybe tomorrow.

I did get some great news in my e-mail today! I was invited to join Ravelry! I clapped my hands and squealed like a girl. I did. I felt special, as if the Knitting Goddess smiled upon me. Yeah, I get pleasure outta' simple things. I know.

Anyhoo, Ravelry is an online knitting & crocheting community, still in the beta stage. You don't just sign up like VeggieBoards (which I do belong to) and a host of other online communities. You have to submit a request and if all the stars align you get an invitation to join. Last week when I submitted my request I noticed there were over 6,700 knitting souls lined up waiting for an invite. I've seen other knitters post in their blog they are wanting to be in Ravelry, still waiting on an invite. Sheesh! I figured I'd be in my 50's by the time they got around to me. By then I might even have made my dream sweater. By then I might be a real knitter, not just a newbie with big dreams and a stash of lovely yarn.

I'm thinking they checked my blog, saw all that Indulgence yarn and had pity, maybe thought I was going to need the moral support of a world-wide knitting community. Maybe someone knew through some mystical cosmic force that I tried my Indulgence gauge swatch three times last night. With half a dozen books and printed instructions for doing gauge swatches strewn across the coffee table and still banging my head in frustration. Gah! The bain of existence in the knitting world - getting gauge. Though it be a mighty mountain to climb I shall triumph! I have to or I'll never be able to make my dream sweater. Must.Get.Gauge.

Just so those who don't know will know, gauge is how many stitches per inch on different needle sizes. My dream sweater calls for 16 stitches = 4" using size 9 needles.. The Indulgence yarn is rated at 15 stitches = 4" on size 10 needles. I've got to come up with the correct needle size to get the stitch count called for in the pattern or who knows what monstrous thing I'll end up with. Either a sweater to fit a gerbil or one to fit a horse. I'd would prefer one to fit me.

Another bit of good mail today came via UPS. I got both the male and the female Art. S. Buck artist's models! I had a long talk with my friend, art buddy and business partner, Paul, about how I've got a gazillion ideas for paintings in my head but don't have money/access to live models to photograph as reference. And all the paintings I'm thinking of have a figure posing in some way. While I may see it in my head, it's often hard to draw it out without reference to see how a leg might bend or the correct foreshortening on an arm. A model, used by artist's for centuries all over the world, is what you need. Someone to hold that pose you're thinking of so you can draw it accurately.

Okay, so these table-top models aren't as good as the real thing. That's a given. But they will help tremendously. I can even make clothes for them to wear for different costumes thus enabling me to see how the fabric drapes, how it wraps around a knee or elbow or whatever. That's also a problem with live models, even if I had one, I don't have/can't afford full sized costumes. For example, I have an idea for a Kwan Yin painting but there ain't no stinkin' way I can buy a real kimono for some woman to come and pose in it just so I can take some pictures. With the small model, I can whip up a kimono on the sewing machine out of a small piece of silk-like fabric and presto!

I will have to resort to other sources for hand positions because these small models have hands formed into only one position. They can't be changed or moved. That's okay. I have hands. I have friends, both male and female, who have hands. They can substitute. Either way, I'm thrilled with the small models and the drawing freedom I hope they will bring. It's difficult to have an idea in your head and sit for hours, if not days, looking through sites like Corbis or Inmagine for a photo that is reasonably close. I've done that. It sucks. And many times I've moved on to another painting idea because I came up bust on any reference material/figure. Again, hopefully that will change now that I have my two Art. S. Buck models. I'm going to have to think up some names for them.

So that's been my day. My evening will be spent working in the studio for awhile longer, scrounging around in the kitchen for some grub, then plopping my butt on the sofa to work on my gauge swatch. Maybe I'll work on the checkerboard scarf instead. I think it's feeling ignored and unloved. Can't have yarn lying around thinking it's unloved.

Namaste y'all ...

The end is nigh ...

No, I'm not talking about the end of the world, the end of whatever sport season it happens to be - I don't keep up with that, nor is it the end of this blog. I'm talking about the end of the website overhaul. Yes, kiddies, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. A small glimmer of hope that I may actually finish this gargantuan undertaking before I lose what little is left of my mind.

And it may not take me until the end of February either. I may meet my January deadline after all. Holy sheep dip.

I've spent the entire day, with the exception of a short break for food and beverages of the caffeinated, not alcoholic, variety - though I did consider it at one point - with my face in front of the computer, plugging away at the bazillion things required to Make.Website.Go. I was also interrupted by a couple of phone calls. I started at 9:00am and it's now, by the clock on the computer, 8:46pm. I am exhausted. I'm brain dead.

What did I accomplish in all those many hours of slaving away at the keyboard? Uploaded twenty one new pieces of art, zipped them through Photoshop for web display, and their individual thumbnail images for the gallery front pages. Okay, some are older works I've just never gotten around to putting on the site. I created twenty one new pages for the art to live. I put the copyright protected disclaimer on all fifty nine images now in the site. I created all the new comments and "why I painted this image" info blurbs on every page. On those twenty one image pages I also created their PayPal buy my art info stuff. I created ten new galleries. I got all of the thumbnail-to-image links created for nine of the galleries. And some more stuff I can't even remember right now. But you know will as soon as I publish this post.

Whew! On one hand it doesn't seem like much. On the other hand, it's freakin' a boat load of work. If any of you are familiar with building websites you'll know what I mean. If you aren't, then you won't. So much of the work is done bouncing between software. I use Photoshop to manipulate and prepare all the images, buttons, background, yadda, yadda, yadda. I use Yahoo Sitebuilder to actually create and host the site.

Yes, I do own Dreamweaver, but I don't know how to use it. I took graphics back when the very first Macintosh computers came out on the market. I learned all the old fashioned stuff like hand pasting prep boards, shooting it on a huge horizontal camera, developing negatives, burning plates, running a printing press. OLD school. So old school that graphic students today can't even conceive of a CompuGraphic typesetter where you had to load a special strip for particular typefaces and then you typed everything without even seeing what you were typing. You didn't know if you made a mistake until you ran the photoprint paper through the developer and THEN got to see what you typed. I'm a graphics dinosaur by some standards. Everything I know about modern graphics I've learned along the way, through various jobs I had in the industry or taught myself. Yeah, I learned Photoshop by using it and reading a manual - not in a classroom. Same with Illustrator, QuarkXpress, Freehand, PageMaker and several other graphics programs.

When it came time to build my first website, y'all, I admit I was clueless. Completely and utterly clueless. I researched via the internet different website hosts who gave me the option of an easy to understand and use with Photoshop capability. I also had to consider cost. Easy + Cheap. Yahoo fit the bill on all accounts. I also like being able to make all the changes sort of "in the basement" while the current version of the site is still live. When I'm done with the upgrade I can publish all at once and Ta!Da! No down time, no mixed-matched pages, just a brand new version. Yee ha. So while it may not be the "preferred" method of website building and all that jazz, it works for me. I'm good with that. Moving on.

Oh, yeah, today's accomplishments. I do ramble sometimes.

What I was originally leading up to is that aforementioned light at the end of my tunnel. Provided it's not actually an oncoming train I've mistaken for salvationary illumination, I can really see a manageable list of things to do to finish the redesign and get this puppy online and out there. I still have a couple of galleries I need to get art into (and all the accompanying stuff for them) but it's a damn sight better than being faced with the entire creation of fifteen new galleries and a dozen other new pages and all their stuff as I was when I started this whole shebang. When everything is on the site and basically "in it's place" I will then go through every page and create the links. This means, link this button to this image to this page to this image to this page to this image to this page to this button to this image ............... It will be the final step in the building process. Then, I'll go through and proof read every page for errors, etc. Then I'll get my husband to proof read everything.

The drum roll comes when, at long last, I click that little yellow "Publish" button. I know my hand will shake. I'll get all cold-chilled and hot-flash sweaty at the same time. I'll probably get lightheaded and dizzy. Nice little panic attack. Once you click that button the current version goes bye-bye and new version hits the net in all it's glory ... or all it's chaos.

There's a good side and a bad side to the click issue. Bad side = read previous paragraph. Good side = this is really the only way to check if the site functions as it should. Do links link to what they are supposed to? Do the images look okay and display properly. Did you just spend untold hours of your life for naught or for a glorious happy dance of joy? Oh, yeah, sure, Sitebuilder has a Preview In Browser option and I definitely use it. But, if the rest of the site is still unpublished you can't check a link to a page that technically isn't "on the net" yet. And I have a whole bunch-o stuff that ain't yet on the net.

I'm going to take a break from the computer tomorrow and spend most of the day in the studio. I'm still working on those two paintings for my art project and I need/want to get them finished. My two phone calls today were from a friend and from my sister, both of whom felt it necessary to inform me of impending inclement weather. I may decide to do my Friday Domestic Goddess duties tomorrow instead of Friday 'cause Friday may not be an option if it does the freezing rain thing on Thursday. Blah!

For now I'm going to sit on the couch, work on my yarn swatch and listen to a movie.

Namaste y'all.

Indulgence ...

Yes, I know. I'm not keeping up on the '08 List item #16 - Blog every day. Barely half way into the first month of the new year and I'm already slacking.

I've been busy.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Truth is, I've been neck deep in my attempt to accomplish List item #4 - Get website design done by end of January.

It was an ambitious idea. I was living in a dream of possibilities and having delusions of the glory of achievement. The Website Design Muse has since smacked me on the head; brought me to my senses; basically, made me painfully aware of my foolishness. We have agreed to shoot for middle to end of February. That is provided I don't have a meltdown of epic proportions and run screaming like a crazed banshee into the night.

It's possible.

But the Divine in all his/her infinite wisdom decided I should be rewarded for my tireless dedication to this whole website thing.

I got mail.

Not just any mail. It was a "got to sign and print here on the little yellow card" kind of mail. I got a box of yarn. Yes, at long last, I am now the blissful owner of 13 skeins of Prism Indulgence yarn in Fog! *cue chorus of angelic voices in background, "Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Haaaalllll-layyyy-looo-yaaaaaaah!"*

Here's what 13 skeins of Prism Indulgence looks like on my drafting table.

Here's what it looks like up close and personal.

Here's what it looks like all wound up in a nice little yarn cake,
ready to be cast on my knitting needles and swatched with love.

These photos don't do it justice. It's splendid. It's yummy. I think the Yarn Paradise shop clerk who called to let me know they were shipping it to me was fondling it while she talked to me on the phone. She said, "This yarn is fabulous!" I'm inclined to agree. Wholeheartedly. Dream sweater may never be taken off my body. I will have to take a shower to wash it. We, my sweater and I, will become fused together in Fabulous Yarny Bliss. *sigh*

But, for now, I am going to be good. I swear. I will not do anything more than make the swatch for gage. I will not attempt dream sweater until website is finished. Yarn has been snuggled into a nice, cozy bag and stashed in the studio closet, out of sight.

I swear.

Namaste y'all ...

Beauty is not just skin deep ...

I've got a list of blogs I read daily. Oh sure, I browse [via the internet] some of the news stuff. I check out the weather once in awhile. And even in moments of utter and complete boredom I flip through the celebrity section of my homepage and see what kind of stupid crap ol' Brittany is up to these days. Seems she's better at making headlines than the Presidential race. After all, what's more important, the shenanigans of Brittany Spears or the person who will be running the country? Really now.

Uh, I digress ...

While I was waiting for some paint to dry yesterday evening I plopped myself down at the computer and started surfing my blog reading list. What's the Yarn Harlot knitting today? Does Crazy Aunt Purl have new photos of Bob? Is Bad Hippie getting settled into her new house? Has Crystal over at Boobs, Injuries & Dr. Pepper got some crazy story today? What cute pictures will I see [and steal for my blog] at Cute Overload? You get the idea.

Every so often I prowl around and find a new blog to add to my reading list. Last night I found TangerGreen. Now, if you're not into Green Living, organic, etc. then this is not a blog you'll have much interest in checking out. Me, I have an interest. So I peruse said blog and discovered another baking soda to use instead of Arm & Hammer. Those bastards do animal testing [the Draize Test and I'm not even going to talk about that] - which I deem unequivocally, irrefutably, unacceptable. period. do not buy product.

But baking soda is good for so many things! Gah! It's a green living householders' staple item! Right up there with vinegar and lemon juice. Y'all, it's been rough being without my baking soda. Sad. Depressing. Not happy camper. And I was having trouble finding a replacement. I've spent much time searching the net, to no avail. It was fast becoming a tragic thing in my world. Well, Ta Da! TangerGreen pointed me to Bob's Red Mill. Ha-la-freakin'-loo-yah! I'm going to order the 25lb. bag. When it gets here I'm going to hold it, squeeze it and call it Herman. We'll have a party, with hats and maybe even ice cream.

Also from this blog I found this interesting site - Skin Deep - and yep, I then spent the next two hours checking out all the products I use. What an eye opener! Geez, Louise! Some of the stuff I've been using I thought was good stuff. Organic. No animal testing. NOT! Little did I realize some of it contains toxic crap. Ummm, well, crap. The rating system is 0-8, 0 being non-toxic and 8 you want to run in the other direction. My shampoo, my shampoo people, is a 4. A 4! A moderate hazard level. I make an 80 mile round trip to Asheville to GreenLife grocery to get it, then I pay $8.00 for it. I could have smacked somebody when I read that rating information.

The rest of my toiletries and cosmetics? Some good, some not. Some went straight into the trash can. Although, I'm highly tempted to carry it to a hazardous waste disposal place. Sheesh! So after I checked out the stuff I use I then spent another hour looking for replacement stuff. The problem is trying to locate products I can buy locally if possible. And preferably not at the evil Land of Wal-Mart, Thank.You.Very.Much. Pickin's are slim in these parts, but I did manage to find alternatives. Some I know I can get at the grocery store, some at the drugstore next to the grocery store, and some I'll still have to drive to Asheville to purchase.

Yes, I'm well aware I can get damn near everything I purchase, clothes to toilet paper to cat food to baking soda to bed sheets to art supplies, online. I'm not interested in paying the four million dollars in shipping costs. I'll get in the Jeep, drive to town, and be a Domestic Goddess on Fridays and do the majority of shopping the old fashioned way.

Okay. I'll survive the toxic wake-up call and stop using some of the stuff I'm using. I'll be happy with the alternatives. Unfortunately, I do still have an issue. Perfume. Y'all, I'm not excessively girly. I don't wear make-up but maybe once a month. I don't paint my nails often. I wear minimal jewelry. I don't wear dresses until I'm forced or suffer a bout of temporary insanity. But I love perfume. Every damn one of them I own ranked a 4, except two, my favorites, and they are both 7's. Flippin' 7's. Can you believe it?! I am crushed. Burst my bubble. Sniveling and whining. Rats! Double rats! Stinkin' quadruple rats! I've loved these two perfumes for years and years and years. I started wearing them way back when they each first arrived on the scene.

Woe is me.

There are no alternatives.

No, I haven't been able to toss them into the trash yet. I can't even look in the medicine cabinet.

Pathetic. I know.

Anywhoooo ....

Because it's too cute not to share and makes me feel better about everything .... (brought to you courtesy of Cute Overload)

Here, have a KleeneeeexaaaaaaGGH! [swipe swipe]

Fffffffft fffft! [swiping action]

I'm sure this will help your stuffhe schnoz.

[swiping paw grazing your nose] fffffffffttt!

Namaste y'all ...