Let the fun begin!

School, finals, holidays are all history now, and today is (jumping up and down) my sobriety birthdate. Yep. Eighteen years now. My, how the time doth fly. And most of the time, I feel about that old, emotionally, at least. I also have gained some wisdom, none of it by myself. Nothing I know is particularly new, though some little metaphors I coined in my tiny little mind, but the concepts are as old as our race. Like be kind because I feel better about myself when I am, so I have let go of needing to be right. Most of the time. And today is the only really important moment. Yes, I am all excited about the frames I ordered for my paintings, and the table and stool for the studio, which up till now has been a cluttered mess and will now get organized into a workable space. They will not come today, however. Today I will lunch with a dear woman and receive my first birthday chip at the noon meeting. It is a funny moment, that, knowing that all I did was stay out of HP's way and not drink, one day at a time. It is still good to celebrate that admittedly small achievement, knowing that there are thousands who cannot do that. I was saying to a sponsee how wonderful it would be to be able to just give sobriety to those I think need it. And she replied "It wouldn't be very valuable if we could." So true. So, into the day to see what gifts there are in it.

Old is the new fresh...

I am feeling my age. First, I had a mental breakdown during my math final. Most of what I thought I knew, suddenly I didn't. So, to forget how ashamed I was of myself (I should have studied, didn't, just couldn't face it anymore), I went to the movies, where I saw the new National Treasure, because I knew it would be inaninity squared, and I didn't want anything that made me think too much. It sufficed quite adequately. When I got up to leave, I think I creaked. Two hours and I was in total body lock. Sigh. So I guess old has arrived, and I need a new word to describe the reality of my existence. "Young" doesn't cut it anymore. So I decided on "fresh", as opposed to "stale", which is what happened to my mother. She is the personification of one of my favorite bumper-sticker wisdoms - if you can't be a good example, you'll have to be a horrible warning. There is nothing that can excite her, she has done and seen everything, ho-hum. Whereas I go out the front door and get all excited because the camelias are blooming, again. I am blown away by a blue bowl of tangerines, which I hope to paint a portrait of today. I love my new book of Egon Schiele's work that my daughter gave me for Christmas (we do that early in our family, don't ask), and it will give me pleasure for years to come. It is like that menu item in my "view" dialogue box, "refresh". I want to keep my mind always refreshed by wonder. Beginner's mind, you know. That's the place to hang out.

Just one more thing to take care of (sigh)...

As if it wasn't bad enough that this is finals week, horrendous cummulative math final, enormous drawing project final, icky-picky trompe l'oiel painting project final, and, okay, not so big sociology final, not to mention Christmas, which comes early in my family, the Saturday before, and my house looks like downtown Bagdhad, yesterday, my kitchen sink backed up, again. I have an first-name basis relationship with a plumber because of the pipes in the little yellow house. While the bathroom backing up is horrible, and mega-expensive, at least that does not accrue to me, as it is usually roots in the main line, and those belong to my landlord. But the kitchen is another story. The kitchen backs up when I have the audacity to use the garbage disposal. That clog has me written all over it. Of course, I hit Safeway for their drain cleaner special of the week first, even though I knew it probably wouldn't work, and the plumber would stare at me incredulously when I told him I did it. Like dude, do I look stupid? It's like this: $6.99 or $147.00. Duh. This time, not only did it not work, but before I did it, it was draining, very slooooooowly, but draining. And after, nada. It was Sunday, so I bought a bigger bottle of some different stuff and tried again. And again. When I went to bed last night, there was all this foamy stuff just sitting there in the sink, looking back at me (I always try running the garbage disposal, too, like hey, it could work, and that makes all this pretty foam). Before hitting the sack, I looked up my plumber's phone number, so, even as I speak, the phone book is sitting here, open to the finger-walking pages. But, lo! The Christmas Miracle Fairy visited me in the night, and my drain is clear and gurgling merrily! Ah, the things I must be grateful for these days. Makes me want to shop with that $147.00 I just saved.

Fast away the old semester passes...

Tomorrow is last day of regular classes. Except they are not regular. No homework. Math is a dead week, and attendance is discretionary. Not so for me. I need all the help I can get, so I will be there, as bright and bushytailed as I can get. Painting, well, my final one is pretty done. Actually, I think it is overdone, and doesn't need any more picking over. The homework project needs some fine tuning, but is almost there, too. Drawing, that's another story. I turned in my portfolio today, but the final project isn't even started yet. Thank the powers that be, it is not due till next Wednesday morning, at the godawful hour of 7 AM. I forgot that 9 AM classes have that problem. Sigh. Really, only one horror to get through, and that is next Thursday, also at 7 AM, the math final. Well, it is all doable, and will soon be over. I intend to just lay around for several days, drinking oolong tea (which I hear speeds up the metabolism something nifty) and watching reruns of ER and Without a Trace. After I sell back my books and my calculator, which I hope to never see again. Adieu, simplex program! So long, sinking fund equations! Freedom, thy name is winter break.

Ah, youth!

I just got some CDs made for me by an old lover who shared my generation, and is a collector of old vinyl 45's, has been since our youth, and has a seemingly endless library of 50s music, not just rock and roll, also showtunes and that jazzy stuff, the folk music stuff, all of it. He loves to make me mixes , and I get all juicy when I listen to it, especially when I come upon a Johnny Mathis tune. God, I loved that guy. Still do, I guess. I am planning on obtaining a turntable that hooks into my computer just so I can record my vinyl, now residing in a box in the garage, on CDs and put them all on my iPod, too. My youth lives within me still. I listen to this music, and think I want to be in love, but wait! I am, with me and my life. I am the person I have been waiting to show up for me all my life. Good news. Wherever I go, there I am!

Sometimes I amaze myself...

Today was portfolio review in painting class. I had 13 paintings to discuss, and 2 more coming. My, how prolific am I! My final painting is almost done, too, a trompe l'oiel (fool the eye) of a collage of brightly colored shapes I cut out and stuck onto this piece of corrugated cardboard with push pins. The painting has all those details, the corrugation, the push pins, everything. It is pretty dynamite, if I do say so myself. I was kind of amazed. It only needs some fine tuning in the cast shadows, some edges that got a little blurry, and get all those pins the same size. I have to admit, it is soooooo much fun when I can actually do the assignment with some elan. I am waiting for the moment when I am comfortable saying that I am an artist. It is coming, for sure.

My, my, my...

The Catholic Church has its panties all in a wad, again. Remember the flap about the DaVinci Code? And Harry Potter, so dark and evil? Well, now it is The Golden Compass, which I understand is very anti-Christianity in its orientation, and aimed at children, tsk, tsk, tsk. How paranoid are there fat old men, all swathed in their golden vestments, surrounded by the utmost of luxury and pomp, making pronouncements of what it good or evil? Personally, I feel they are so removed from reality that anything they say is not even credible. Let them go live in a Sao Paulo slum for a while and find out why birth control is such a good idea. Let them live in a violent domestic environment and come out proclaiming divorce evil. The Dark Ages live among us, still. With their dark little minds. It's ENTERTAINMENT, guys. There is only a method if we are looking for one, which, now, thanks to you idiots, we are.

AAARRRGGGHHH!

My priority registration period just lapsed, and I was unable to get onto the website to register. No problem, you say? Do it by phone, you say? Well, that would be swell, except the printed catalog has not been issued, so I need to select the classes, where? Oh, online! Help! I am sure this will all be resolved, soon, but why is it such a hassle? Expecially now. I am 1) still recovering from my bout with a nasty virus, 2) in the throes of final projects and 3) a math test looms, and 4) Christmas is coming. I think I have been in this place before, but without the added terror of not being able to register promptly. Maybe there are other plans for me? Plans I have not formulated all by my little self? Whatever, please reveal them soon. I have very little hair left to tear out.

My head is bloodied but unbowed...

After totally surrendering to this nasty virus, burrowing in bed with a couple of cheesy detective novels, a cup of hot tea and a plethora of OTC drugs, I am about to set sail again into my sea of learning. I even managed to write that blasted paper, do the film response and begin a painting. Not finish a painting, sorry to say. Accepting my limits is not my forte, but I was not very steady on my feet yesterday. Let us hope everything works all right so I can get through today. As illnesses go, this one came at the right time. I got sick Thursday afternoon, my last day of school for the week, and had the whole weekend to convalesce. This is a very short week, just two days, as we have Wednesday off, too, so I will not have to stay the whole course. So, in a funny way, it was a blessing. I also got lots of rest, which I probably needed. And a couple of people got me as their good deed, never a bad thing. Okay, I am ready. Not going very fast, but still going.

Oh, crap...

You know how it is. You plan, God laughs. I am sick. Lousy head cold. Usually this is not a problem. I keep a handy supply of day and night cold tablets, so I rarely get all messy and stuffed up. Except I was out this time, and I bought another brand, and they didn't work. The good news is that I had just put in a new supply of genuine Kleenex, the really soft kind. The bad news is I used a whole box in the night, and didn't get much sleep because of it. So I threw my sweats on and ran out to Rite-Aid for the right stuff, as well as some nasal spray. It is not a good idea to try to deal with nasal spray on two hours of fitful sleep as well as a headful of cold medicine. Heck, it took two days before I could open the pump thingy on my new bottle of shampoo, and I was unmedicated then. I just hope the new ones work. I am absolutely miserable here. When I get well, I am going to be so grateful for my health. Really I am.

And the beat goes on...

Delightful four day weekend, almost over. Just one more little day, and then back to school. I will be toting two new paintings, both done all in one session each. Shoes again. First I had to search under the bed for the mate to my Dearfoams. I wear my Bear Paws mostly, so these slippers have fallen into disuse. They are, however, eminently paintable, as they are garnet red quilted velvet with fleecy white interiors, very Christmasy and Santa Clausy. After scraping off all the dog hair that accumulated on the one I drug out from under the bed, I set them up on my little corner table in the studio. At the last moment, I added my brass alarm clock, the kind that has the bells on top and a tiny hammer that dings them. It made a dynamite composition, and I am very proud of the outcome. Today, I followed another brainstorm. It rained. I dragged out my rain boots for the trip to the mail box. They are knock-offs of those really chichi ones in the L.L. Bean catalog, $15 at King's Sporting Goods in Guerneville, and really comfortable and waterproof to boot. I also noticed they were rather handsome, so they went up on the studio table next. I toned the canvas bright orange. Almost none of it is visible in the final painting, but it still has a wonderful warmth to it, and is probably the best so far, though I don't have the one of the athletic shoes to compare it with as it is still in the slot at school, drying. I am so stoked! I am able to just go slap, slap with my brush, and my idea just emerges right out of the canvas! This is what I have been working toward all along. Don't you just love epiphanies?

The most amazing thing happened today...

After this morning's math test (not too hard and I think I only missed 1/2 of one problem and one tiny little thing on another, but I could be wrong), I headed off to painting class. We had a critique and it was really good. Everyone has come along and the paintings were wonderful. Then we started on our next a la prima piece. I had toned my canvas black (first time I tried this) and scraped my image in with a dry brush, sort of a grisaille look, that was really neat, actually. I was painting a portrait of my Tommy Hilfiger athletic shoes. This is painting no. 3 in my shoe series. I had this idea in my mind, and for the very first time, I saw it emerge on the canvas! I finished in record time, and voila! My aim this semester (and last semester, come to think of it) has been to loosen up my work, find my muse, and produce fun and interesting, richly textured painterly pieces. And it is beginning to happen! And yesterday, my figure drawing teacher praised my work big time. We drew the head for the first time, and this is where I can really shine. I got a great image of the kid who modelled for us, and came away very excited. It seems that I have found myself, or at least part of myself, that I just never knew was there. What a trip this whirl around the blue ball has been!

If it's Wednesday, it must be sociology...

You know, I wake up in the morning with a fairly good idea of what will happen next. Boo will pad over, sit on my chest and sneeze in my face. I will get up, pee, brush my teeth then head for the kitchen to uncover Phoebe. There is a pumpkin pie in the fridge, and I will eat a slice for breakfast (hey, it has eggs in it after all). When all my preparations are done (food and water for the fur and feather people, back door open for easy exit when necessary, bookbag packed, little purse around my neck, keys in pocket, sunglasses on, Boo's treat ready to throw), I head out into the day. But wait, what is this? My parking permit that lives wrapped around my rearview mirror is not there. I vaguely remember it fell down when I used the sunvisor thingy on Saturday. Since I am sitting on the road about to enter the insanity that is our underpass these days, I could not take further action. And then, at school, I tossed the car. No sign of that sucker. I wound up buying a $3 day pass. Bummer. And then, expecting to draw in figure drawing, we were treated to 2 hours of lecture and slides, while sitting on a tall stool without a back to rest on, or a potty break. After lunch, I trudged over to sociology, only to find class had been cancelled. So I went home. Oh, and I found the parking permit, tucked down between the windshield and the dashboard, where I put it so it would be easy to find. So it is only an illusion that I know what is going to happen next. Life is an eternal mystery. Kind of disconcerting if I think about it too much.

Sunday stuff...

The whole world goes out to breakfast on Sunday. Jeez. My movie bud and I finally got together to see The Jane Austin Book Club today. The only time it was (still) playing was 10:40AM at the local Smart People's Movie Theater, so we decided that, instead of our usual dinner and a movie, to do breakfast and a movie. This was one of those moments when the idea was far superior to the reality, as there were lines of folks out the doors of the first three restaurants we tried, even IHOP. We wound up at the Flamingo Hotel, and it was a great meal, but they were chomping at the bit to get us out of there so they could set up a luncheon, at 9:30 AM! It must have been the time change thing. (Happy as I am to have my hour back, I feel no compulsion to be overly grateful as no one asked if they could take it away in the first place.) Anyhoo, we had a crowd of happy seniors in the theater with us, and what a great film! I am so happy that Jane Austin is in again. Timeless and wonder-full romance should never go out of fashion. I am so ready to pick up this new trilogy of books some enterprising Austin-wannabee has written from the view point of Mr. Darcy, whose first name, in case you wondered, is Fitzwilliam. I will carry this warm gooey feeling around for a while, I am sure. Oh, please. If they can remake Sleuth all stark and scary they can certainly lay a new Persuasion or Mansfield Park on us, right?

My favorite shoes are now immortalized...

I am working ahead in painting class, because I was done before most of the others. Not a big surprise; I work fast and am easily bored. So I began the series of ala prima (done all in one session) paintings. Our instructions were to use a 16x20 canvas and paint 1) a fish on a plate or 2) a hunk of fish on a plate or 3) a package of meat, unopened or 4) fruit spilling out of a paper bag or5) shoes. So I brought my Bass clogs, distressed brown shoes, all lumpy from toes twiddling in them for a number of years, set them on the hind end of a drawing horse, illumined them with my work light and painted a picture of them with my handy dandy palette knife. And it turned out pretty well, if I say so myself. I am not unhappy. That is saying a whole hell of a lot, indeed. In fact, I am thinking of doing a series of shoe paintings, as this is my second one so far, including other objects too, like a hat, or a flower, or a lemon. Whatever. That sounds like a good deal, actually. Fun fast and satisfying. How could it get any better than that?

How irritating...

Now, I just love school. And I tend to gravitate to other students who are older, like I. So, there are these two older gals (older than most of the other students, not older than I) in my painting class. One is this rather over-the-top woman, red spiky hairdo, tres chic outfits, kind of mouthy, and the other is this very sweet blond gal, petite and perky. And they have bonded tightly. Their common ground, besides the painting, is their husbands. Every other word is "my husband", to which the other responds "well, MY husband". Really, how very trite. Now, I do not have a husband. But even if I did, I hope that my conversations would not revolve around him. I would hope that I would have a LIFE. One of my very own, exclusive of the person sharing my bed. I am realizing that I find these women irritating. I do not pal around with them, as I think I have little in common with them, though the blond is smart and funny and would probably become a friend, if the redhead would get lost. And I realize that I am being pretty exclusive, myself. I wonder if I could drop the name of my last ex-husband, and join their club? Okay, probably not. More better I just get over myself, and just keep plugging away at my painting, on the other side of the studio.

I hate it when that happens, Vol. CCCDXXIV

I seem to have thoroughly trashed my right wrist. It hurt, a little, for a long time. I ignored it. Now it hurts, a lot. Lugging the 40 lb. bookbag, lifting the 50 lb. portfolio, grabbing textbooks and huge drawing tablets, all added to the damage. Now it hurts to adjust the fan in my car. So I got a nice brace for it ($11.99 at Raley's), and some ibuprofen. This is good. Already it feels better, now that I am not re-injuring it daily. And, some things are good about this. As much as it is a hassle, I am learning to use my left hand for a lot of things, like opening doors and carrying heavy stuff. I hear that is very good for the brain (we drew a gesture drawing with our opposite hand recently, and I could not tell it from the others I did that day). And instead of pushing myself up off the couch with my hands, I am using the old thigh muscles, and I am sure that they are getting nice and tight because of it. Mostly I just have to remember not to push with it too much. I even drive better, because abrupt movement is what sends searing pain around my wrist and down my hand. Never thought there would be a moment when I pined for an automatic transmission, but here it is. Not missing any school, or letting it interfere with drawing or painting, though. So how bad could it be, anyway. Nuisance, this getting old is.

Friday morning, coming down...

It is a rainy, gray day. Boo is laying on the rug kind of whining, because he wants to go outside. The back door is open, as always, but does he want to go there? Oh, nonono. He wants to go out front, where there is no fence to keep him from the road that those yahoos in pickups like to scream down. I am feeling kind of deflated today. I couldn't finish my math homework I turned in yesterday. I was not alone, most of the class was in that boat. But I still hate it when that happens. Thank HP we have moved on to a new discipline, sets. Very interesting ways of looking at groups of things, ie days of the week, students in a class, etc. Very esoteric. And I finished my painting in class, four fruits on a saturated colored backdrop. After the painting in a limited palette of earth tones, this was a feast. I painted four fruits, artistically arranged against a ground of violet (compliment of yellow) and backdrop of bright blue (compliment of orange), a lemon, a peach, an Anjou pear and a squatty green pear. All are much larger than life, and it turned out not too badly. I got lots of interesting ideas while working on it, and am now ready to move on. To onions, probably. I came home yesterday pretty wrung out, and now am resting. Well, I had to run to the store for milk for my pancakes, and am now about to embark for Costco for coffee, then laundry and cleaning and a meeting, and, well, I'll rest later. There is a big pot of split pea soup bubbling on the stove, perfect for this dreary day, and cornbread leftover in the fridge from my first-of-the-season pot of chili. Smells really yummy. Onward into the day, little soldier.

Want a little frosting on that cake?

In addition to my triumphs in sociology and math, the in-class critique of the latest two paintings went splendidly indeed. Everything the teacher pointed out was good and to my credit. Well, actually to her credit, because I have been following her directions. I am pretty much the only one doing that. With instructions to use definite props (black shoe, shoebox, two lemons and a potato), limited palette (earth tones only), and an 18x24 canvas, other students showed up with 10x14 blue paintings of peppers, onions, red apples, etc. What is that about? Well, I don't know how it served them, but I got an A, on every painting I have done so far. It pays to 1) show up and 2) follow directions. And I have learned a lot. Really.

A little retail therapy...

It has occurred to me that I may have only 20 little years left on our big blue ball, so waiting to have things is pretty, well, stupid. So, I replaced a couple of older things that were less than wonderful lately. First was my digital camera, poor little 3.2 megapixel thing that it is. The new one is 8 megapixels (!) and cost less than half of the first one. Ain't technology grand. It is also terribly tiny, soooooo cute, with a bigger viewing display, too. Thrilling. Then I got this $20 off coupon for a phone system that set me yearning. Mine was a funky AT&T model, with only one cordless extension, and the handset had a cord, which always made me feel tethered to my desk. The display was kind of murky, and it had an irritating ring (I didn't know that until I got the new, melifluous one). So, off to Costco on the first day the coupon was valid, and now I have four cordless phones sitting in the office, the studio, the kitchen counter where I can get it from the living room, and of course, the bedroom. They all have a well lighted display I can (almost) read without my glasses. This gizmo does some really nice stuff, like keep track of the last Caller IDs and I loaded a boatload of numbers into the head handset, and taught all the others my phonebook. I don't even need to look at the display, however, because the phone speaks to me, and tells me who is on the line! Very handy when I am in the bathtub, let me tell you. So no more fear that I will trip over the dog on my way to pick up a call from the Society toBeautify the Desert and spend what is left of this life in a neckbrace. It is pretty wonderful in the end. Ah, the good life, short though it may be.