Art Work In Progress

Mondays ...

2008-07-21T11:43:00.004-04:00

My sentiments exactly.

Tuck Tail and Run

2008-07-13T08:46:00.005-04:00

It's been a rough week here at the House Of Vermin. The veterinarian appointment on Tuesday went well, all things considered. Tuck was given a clean bill of health and his first round of shots. Tesah, on the other hand, had a nasty case of ear mites, a head cold, and was deemed still too young for her shots. Gotta' be eight weeks of age. She's barely pushing six, seven at best. And even if she was old enough, she was just too sick to get them because they may have made her worse. Poor kid.

She did at least get a treatment for the ear mites. As small as the wee vermin is the vet's assistant still had to take her to the back and get another assistant to help her hold Tesah while she did her ears. My God, that kitten screamed like she was being skinned alive. I sat in the exam room with Tuck and cried like a baby. When the vet and the assistant came back in they were quite surprised to see me sitting in the chair, boo-hooing up a storm. All I could say was, "'scuse me y'all, I'm a bit emotional right now." I briefly told them about Creepy's passing. They both just nodded their heads in sympathy and understanding. Tesah looked about as soggy from the ear mite treatment as I'm sure I did from crying. They also give her medicine, liquid stuff with an eye dropper, for me to force down her throat twice a day. Not fun. Tesah is little, yeah, but she's a squirmer with needle sharp claws.

Since Tesah was sick and obviously felt like a deflated party balloon (spent the first three days here sleeping) and because head colds & ear mites are contagious, I decided to keep her secluded in the master bathroom/bedroom for the rest of the week. Just like when I first brought Tuck home. Bathroom at night, bedroom & bath during the day. I figured the peace and quiet would be good for her. Tuck had been driving her nuts, attacking her, making her holler at the top of her lungs, giving her no rest. He thought she was the best toy in the world. Tuck, naturally didn't like the new arrangement at all. Whenever I went into the bedroom to check on Tesah he would fret, meowing and poking his paws under the door until I came back out.

Of course, every time I opened the bedroom door ... ZING! WIGGLE! DASH! ZOOM! ... Tuck made a greased-lightening fast break past me into the room. I'd have to snatch him and take him back out with me. It got to be a real pain in the ass because I'd go check on her every 30 minutes to an hour. I knew, even if she was just sleeping, I needed to give her attention, let her get used to me, and take her to her food and water bowls or the little box. Until her felt well enough to ramble around on her own she needed extra care. Doing nothing but sleeping for three days had kept her from exploring and discovering the lay-of-the-land.

After a couple more days of rest, lots of food and water, and her medicine twice a day, Tesah started perking up. She began wandering around and playing with some of the toys. I started spending a little more time with her each time I went in the room, trying to judge her health, strength and agility. I knew it wouldn't be long before she would have to be re-introduced to Tuck. He's a lot bigger, stronger, and operating at full tilt kitty boogie. I wanted Tesah as healthy and strong as possible.

While Tesah needed extra care, I still had to pay attention to Tuck. He's a love muffin and very snuggly. He doesn't like being alone. He's okay as long as I'm at least in the same room, even if I'm working on the computer, and he can come over during his breaks between killing all the cat toys and generally flinging himself around the house in a spastic kitten frenzy. I look forward to his naps, believe me. So, between the two, it's like have a couple of toddlers.

There has also been the emotional roller-coaster of dealing with Creepy's passing. For a couple of days during this past week it was all I could do to take care of myself, like taking a shower, much less two needy kittens. Creepy's absence is really starting to sink in. She doesn't greet me when I come home. She's not there, snuggling close to me at night. The little routines we had have been abruptly terminated. My life feels like it's been turned upside down. Everything has changed. I can't tell you how many times I caught myself staring off into space, tears in my eyes, missing my girl. It's probably not something a lot of people understand, but I feel about my "pets" like some people feel about their kids. They get the full dose of any maternal instincts I have because I don't have human children. Losing Creepy, for me, is very much like losing a real child. It hurts like Hell and there is an emptiness, a loneliness and deep sense of loss I feel every minute of the day. It will be this way for a long time to come. But, I have to keep going and doing. I can't sit and nurse my grief no matter how much I want to. I have two new kittens who need me. I have the store. I have artwork to do. I have my husband. I have a life I have to live. That's the way it goes, and it goes on, one day at a time.

So the day finally came that I decided Tesah and Tuck needed to start their time together. The day before yesterday I let them play for awhile, watching closely, making sure it was really play and not Tuck beating the snort out of Tesah. She's so small and delicate compared to him. When they wrestle, he hardly makes a sound. She, on the other hand, wails, growls, and screeches like she's being skinned alive. Honestly, it made me a nervous wreck, afraid she was going to get seriously hurt. After a couple of hours I had all I could stand and put Tesah back in the bedroom. They proceeded to harass each other under the door.

Yesterday, after I got home from work, I let them play again. And again, I kept a close eye on how they behaved. Much to my surprise, and relief, she gave back as good as she got. Tesah chased Tuck, stalked and pounced on him, generally smacked him around a good bit. He loved every minute of it ... until he decided it was nap time and tried to relax on the rug at the front door beside my chair. I think Tesah is a can of worms Tuck's not so sure he's totally happy to have opened .......

Meh! Nothing interesting about this ...

Hey now, this thing moves!

Attack!

I'm sure I saw it go up here ...

Yessssss!

A tasty little nibble ...

And a nice big bite!

Hey wait, I was chewin' on that!

Holy crap! I barely got out alive! I better keep my tail tucked!

Namaste, y'all ....

Wee vermin in the house.

2008-07-08T08:00:00.002-04:00

Creepy's passing has left a void in not only my life, but Tuck's a well. They were just beginning to connect. Had a couple of nose-touching moments which were so sweet it almost brought me to tears. Creepy was actually learning to play with him and a couple of happy cat chases occurred in the days before she died. While I'd always had at least two cats together, Creepy has always been alone. It was difficult enough to accept her in my life after Medford and Scooter disappeared. The thought of getting Creepy a playmate when she was little seemed like a mountain I just couldn't climb. Thus, technically speaking, it was my fault she hated cats. She was raised solitary, had "Mom" all too herself for almost eight years.

Last year I thought about getting another kitten. Truthfully, I was too afraid Creepy would never learn to accept one, and quite possibly, seriously hurt it. I decided against it. Then, as the Fates would have it, three weeks ago Tuck came into our life. Yes, Creepy freaked over him in the beginning, but as I said, amazing things were developing. God, it made me so proud of my girl when she tried to play with Tuck! Then Creepy died, leaving me, and leaving Tuck.

Saturday we both, Tuck and I, wandered around the house in a daze. The rest of that day after she died he wouldn't play. Several times I found him laying in the spots Creepy used to lay to nap. He ate out of his own food bowl. Y'all, from the very first day of being loose in the house, ignoring his and eating out of hers seemed to be a great thing. Yet in that strange, inexplicable way of animals, and as young as he is, he knew something was seriously wrong in our world ...

At one point in the afternoon, when the husband was inside taking a short water break from digging Creepy's grave (I had him dig it in one of her favorite spots behind the house where there are trees - lots of roots and hard red clay dirt to have to dig through) he looked at me and said, "I don't mean to add salt to the wound but maybe you need to hurry up and get another kitten for Tuck's sake." As bad as I felt, as much as my heart squeezed up at the thought of another new kitten being in the house, I knew he was right. I told him about how I'd had a dream nearly a week ago that Tuck was playing with a little buff colored kitten and Creepy was sitting off to the side, barely within the range of my peripheral vision, quietly watching them. I was thinking it meant I was going to end up with three cats ...... not that Creepy would die. Guess being psychic didn't help me with that one at all. Oh yeah, you don't have to tell me knowing in advance wouldn't have made her death any easier. Trust me, I know.

All day Sunday I tossed the idea around in my head that maybe I should do the opposite. Maybe I should consider finding a new home for Tuck? After stewing on it for awhile I started to mention it to the husband, but before I could, he made the comment that I shouldn't wait to look for a kitten, that Tuck was already lonely and that he, the husband, considered Tuck a part of the family and loves him. Obviously, I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I promised on Monday I would start looking for a kitten for Tuck.

Again, the Fates stepped in.

My dear friend, Sue, called. The first words out of her mouth were, "How about a little gray tabby kitty?" Y'all, I am a complete and total goob for gray kitties. My Medford was gray. Anyway, I asked her how old it was and she said somewhere around Tuck's size. Sue was at the Animal Outreach booth they set up in front of Lowe's Hardware sometimes on the weekends. I asked her how much and how late they would be there. She said, "If you want it, it's on it's way to you." My Sue. She's amazing. What would I do without her?

Half an hour later she's at the door with this tiny speck of dust bunny fluff .....

The husband immediately fell in love. Head over heels. Wanted to stay home from work and play with the pretty new kitty kind of love. I'll admit, if I were going to pick a new kitty, I would have picked her. She's delicate and too sweet for words. From the way she reacted to the food bowl, growling like a beast and clamping her tiny paws protectively over it, it's sadly obvious she's had a rough start to life. Her ears are filthy and she's got a bit of a runny right eye. Tuck thinks she's the best new toy in the world. But he is a little bigger and I have to watch out, jumping to her rescue if he starts to rough her up too much.

We've got a 10:30 am appointment for the vet today. Everybody is getting a good once-over, shots and baths and all kind of vet inflicted indignities on little kitty persons. I think it's sort of like the cat version of a women's gynecological appointment. We women really hate it, but ya' gotta' do whatcha' gotta' do. Wish us luck.

I'm still reeling from Creepy's death. I'm torn between wanting to take care of these two babies and push them away because my heart misses my orange fluff ball so much. I'm sure, given time, my grief will lessen. I'll become attached to the new kittens. I am, after all, a cat person. And for now, I most certainly won't deny them love and attention just because it's really Creepy I'd rather be holding in my arms instead of a new kitten I don't really even know yet. The bond with these two will develop and grow in time. Life isn't always fair, isn't always easy, but maybe the Divine brought these two into my life to ease the loss of Creepy's passing. Maybe caring for their immediate needs will help keep me occupied enough to not dwell overmuch on how badly I miss her. This is what I tell myself. While it's not the happiest of times to come in, I have to say "Welcome to the family, Tesah."

Namaste, y'all ...

My girl ...

2008-07-07T12:00:00.000-04:00

I think this is the hardest thing I've had to write about in a very long time. Early Saturday afternoon, July 5th, my darling baby girl, Creature (aka Creepy) unexpectedly passed away.

My orange fluff ball is gone.

I can't believe I just typed that sentence.

I confess, I'm still in a state of shock. One minute she was fine and the next she was gone. I believe she died of a stroke or an aneurysm. I'm indescribably grateful that when it happened she was in my arms and it was very quickly over. Two minutes. In two short minutes my life has changed completely. Intellectually I realize she isn't with me anymore on this physical plane ... emotionally, I'm scared that if I really let myself start crying I won't be able to stop. My heart feels like a rock in my chest.

Eight years ago the husband and I were living in a rental place, in the process of buying our first home together. I had two cats (though I wasn't supposed to) at the time. I really wanted to keep them inside until we moved but both of them loved being outside too much. They always had and they only stayed inside for a couple of weeks to acclimate whenever I have moved from place to place over the years. Medford, a beautiful and unbelievably sweet gray tabby, had been with me for 11 years. Scooter, a silly white guy, had been with me for about five years. Long story short, in June of that year they both disappeared. Poof! Vanished into thin air. To this day I have no idea, though I have suspicions I hate to even contemplate, as to what happened to them. I was horribly upset and swore I would never have anymore cats. Losing Scooter was bad, but losing Medford, well, I still grieve and miss her terribly. I can hardly think about her without crying.

One Sunday evening 'round about August or September, the husband and I were at home, in the kitchen cleaning up the breakfast dishes, when we heard a neighbors' dog in the front yard barking. I looked out the kitchen window and saw him standing there, barking at the front porch. Just then I heard a tiny meow. I mashed my face to the window, looked toward the porch, and saw a little orange fuzz ball between the railings. I told the husband to go to the back door and call the dog around to the back of the house so that I could open the front door and get the kitten.

As fast as I opened the door this little bitty, scared shitless, kitty came flying in and climbed straight up my leg and into my arms. Shaking and squeaking like a mouse, it snuggled under my chin and clung to me for dear life. From it's size I guessed it to be about 7-8 weeks old at best. All I could think of was, "Well, damn, what do I do with this?" Honestly, I didn't want her. I was still too emotionally raw from losing Medford. But I figured the least I could do was give it some food and water, keep it safe until I could call the Human Society the next day. All the remainder of that afternoon and evening the kitten stayed glued to my lap if I was sitting down, or scrambled around under my feet if I got up for anything.

I spent some time that day looking around for more kittens but never found any, nor any sign of how the kitty came to be on my porch. We didn't have close neighbors, lived on a main road but still 10 miles from town, and all I could figure was someone had set out kittens somewhere near our house. When I checked the kitty over I discovered it was a she, was sort of skinny and undernourished, and her claws were shredded and bloody. She was also scared of everything and particularly horrified of being under a blanket or put in a box. Which, of course, made me assume she must have clawed her way out of something, box or bag. I felt bad for her, cleaned her up and doctored her paws, but wasn't going to get attached.

On Monday I tried calling the pound to find out their hours so I could take her to them. No one answered the phone. All day, calling every 30 minutes, I got no answer. The next day I even drove the 20 miles to see if they were there, to check the hours they were open. No one was there. The door sign said they were supposed to be open 7:30 am to 4:00 pm. I went home frustrated. I kept calling every hour or so. I called, every day, for a week. Never got anyone on the phone. If I went to town and drove over to check no one would be there.

By this time the kitten was starting to grow on me. She was my shadow. Hated to let me out of her sight. Screeched like a banshee if I went out of the room and she couldn't see me. She snuggled beside me, as close as she could get herself, in bed at night. One day near the end of that week I was kicked back on the sofa reading a book. She was snooping around the living room and checking things out. When she got brave and tried to kill the curtain I called her a creature she came running over to me, climbed up on the sofa, nudged my book out of the way and curled herself into a ball next to my heart. She reached her little paw up and touched my chin. She started purring for the first time.

I was hooked and cooked.

She got named, as you can guess, Creature.

I stopped trying to call the Human Society and took her to the vet for her shots, etc. Spent money at the store for toys, scratching post, cat litter and all the stuff a kitty should have. Since Scooter and Medford had preferred to be outside there were things I didn't have in the house. And since I wasn't really supposed to have pets, I didn't want a repeat of the vanishing act. I knew I had to keep Creature inside, hidden, until we got moved into our new house.

Creature, who's monikur eventually became "Creepy", was, without doubt, a "Momma's girl". Whatever happened to her in her first few weeks of life left an impression. She would hide from anybody except me. She barely tolerated the husband's presence when he was home. If anyone came over they didn't realize I even had a cat unless they saw the toys. But with me, she was loving and sweet. She was in my lap if I was sitting down, playing at my feet if I was standing up, tagging along behind me if I was walking through the house, snuggling close if I was in bed sleeping. If I talked to her, she talked back.

Over the years she gradually lost some of her skittishness and would stay in the same room if people came over. She began to like the husband, playing with him or sometimes sitting next to him on the sofa if he was watching a movie. At some point, maybe two or three years ago she began to sleep next to him on the bed sometimes, laying just at the perfect distance from him for him to be able to reach her and scratch her shoulders the way she liked. As more time passed she became friends with some of my friends. She really liked Sue and Paul became her "boyfriend". She trained him to get her pounce treats whenever he came over and rewarded him with a show of flirtation ... rolling over, showing him her tummy and batting her eyes.

I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but the most dramatic change in her behavior was to become one of the most precious to me ... sofa napping under the blanket with me. I have an afghan I keep folded over one arm of the sofa for taking naps or if I get cold while watching a movie or reading. I don't care where she was in the house, she had an incredible cat-sense when I got on the sofa and covered up with that afghan. She was johnny-on-the-spot to climb under it with me. I had to lay on my side, with my back pressed again the back of the sofa, knees drawn up to form a little snuggle spot next to my stomach for her. She would get under the blanket, circle around a couple of times then tuck up close to me and start purring so loud you could hear her across the room. I also had to put my hand on her side, letting it just rest there, or she would keep wiggling around until I did. We had some awesome "cat naps" and movie watching/reading afternoons curled up together under that afghan.

I could sit here for hours, telling you story after story about my girl, my Creepy. I could spend the rest of my life telling you how special she was, about how much she came to mean to me over the past eight years. Instead, I will fill the rest of this post with pictures to show how incredibly beautiful she was. Sadly, there is no way these images can express the deep love I felt in my heart for her, nor the infinite joy she brought to my life for having chosen me to be her Mom. The time was too short, but it was a living definition of a true blessing.

Taming of the shrew ...

2008-06-29T10:42:00.005-04:00

I really wish I had pictures to prove the wonderful yet totally surprising tolerance Creepy has shown her new little brother, Tuck. Quite frankly, I'm astounded over how well she's doing with a freaky kitty intruder in her space. I was prepared for months of keeping them separated, being a watchdog mother hen, keeping both my babies as safe, calm and happy as possible considering the circumstances .... Creepy hates cats.

Creepy is also, well, a big girl. Her preference is to be called "fluffy". But y'all, she's just plain and simply fat. Okay. Under duress I'll admit it. She's a 15 pound orange butter ball with amazing speed and agility, sharp claws and frighteningly large teeth. I could easily imagine the damage she's capable of inflicting on the wee body of the speck of brown fluff that is Tuck. He's so little compared to her. Barely a tasty morsel. Oh the scary visions I had of Creepy getting hold of him! Makes me cringe to think of it. I am stunned to say it ain't happened. Been a close call or two, yes, but she's shown incredible restraint. I'm so proud of my girl. And you know she's getting extra treats because of it, too.

I haven't been brave enough to leave them alone together while I've been out of the house. I'm simply not ready to extend my trust of this seemingly good behavior Creepy is exhibiting. For all I know, it's my presence in the house that keeps the relative peace we've been having. What I have done is allow Tuck free range of the house while I'm home instead of keeping him stuffed, sadly alone, in the master bedroom while the Creeps and I hang out in the rest of the house. Yes, while he was in there I would go in every 30 minutes to an hour and spend time with him. We'd play with his toys, I'd give him love and he'd reciprocate. It was our safe way of bonding without Creepy launching an attack and scaring the beejeebees outta' the little fellow.

I started this letting him run the house thing last week while Creepy was outside. I figured there wasn't any way to get his scent in the house unless he actually ran around the house. I knew the quicker I could get his smell on the furniture and carpet the quicker Creepy would become accustomed to it. I'd tried the method of putting the blanket he'd been sleeping on in the living room. Creepy avoided it like the plague. I tried the tactic of sitting with him on the couch. No go. I'd tried having him in the pet carrier in the middle of the living room so Creepy could check him out and he'd still be safe from the Fangs of Death. While that trick seemed to be okay with Creepy (she glared and hissed for a minute and then walked away) I think it scared Tuck too much. When I took him back to the bedroom and got him out of the carrier he snuggled under my chin, shaking and cowed by her display of aggression. He was trapped in that carrier and, I'm sure, freaked out that he couldn't run and hide. I felt so bad I promised him I wouldn't ever do that to him again.

The one afternoon Creepy wanted back into the house and I didn't immediately see Tuck to grab him and stick him back in the bedroom. I thought, "Allrighty, let's just see what happens!" Creepy came inside and headed to the kitchen to get treats - traditional routine we have - just as Tuck came flying out of the bedroom. The doorway to the master bedroom is off the kitchen. Yeah, everybody freaked at once. Creepy headed for the highest spot she could find, the bar between the kitchen and living room. Tuck scrambled back under the bed like the Hounds of Hell were at his heels. Me? I was rooted to the floor in shock that Creepy didn't pounce on him like a duck on a Junebug. After a few minutes Tuck came beebopping back into the kitchen. Creepy eyed him like a vulture from the top of the bar. I decided to let the whole thing play out, but stayed on guard in case I had to intervene.

For nearly an hour Creepy watched, wide-eyed, as Tuck cavorted around the house. You know how kittens are, like the Energizer Bunny whacked out on amphetamines. She never made a sound unless he ventured too close - like the floor space under the bar - and then she'd growl and give a half-hearted hiss. I think she was just too amazed at this creature kah-zinging around all over the place. Tuck never paid her any attention unless she growled. Then he would stop dead in his tracks, flatten to the ground, and then beat a hasty retreat to the sanctuary of the space under the dining room table. For all of 2.2 seconds he would hide, then the bliss of the two dozen cat toys spread over the carpet would captivate him and he'd be obliviously kah-zinging again. Unfortunately, I guess the shenanigans on the floor got the better of Creepy and she launched a brief attack. Tuck was stuck back in the bedroom for awhile and had to spend another night alone in the bathroom.

The next day after I got home from work I tried it again. Only this time I made Creepy stay in the house for awhile instead of letting her go outside as I usually do. Progress was made. She still wouldn't let Tuck get more than a couple of feet near her without the show of fangs and a bit of growling. But overall, she really surprised me. She did seek the higher elevations for an hour or so but eventually relaxed enough to lay around on the floor. The biggest step came when she took her favorite spot on the back of the sofa for a siesta while I was kicked back watching a movie. Tuck meandered over and got on the pillow behind my head. For over an hour we laid together in peace. I messed it up by getting up to get the camera to take a picture for y'all to see them lying quietly, barely three feet of space between them. Creepy didn't budge but Tuck had to come investigate when he heard to little ring tone my digital camera has when it turns on. Lost the photo op.

With such a good evening I decided to really test the waters and let Tuck stay loose for the entire night. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. Cat fights weren't the issue, though I did wake a couple of times to some hissing. I guess Creepy wanted to come to bed with me (another tradition we have) but found the wee brown fur ball that is Tuck to be just too much of a hurdle to overcome. Tuck, on the other hand, thought the whole thing to be fabulous. My head was the favored perch for napping, bathing and midnight cavorting. My eyelids and nose were fascinating temptations and received much attention through the night. I'm sporting a few pin holes in my scalp from that vermin's tiny, needle sharp claws and the battle waged against my hair sometime around 3:00 am. From about 4:30 am until almost 6:30 am a serious game of "chase my own tail" ensued, the ball field was, of course, me.

Today was an even better day. Yep, had a close call once or twice. Must be ever vigilant for a bit longer. Seems that Creepy has a jealous streak regarding her scratching post. She still hisses at him if he gets near her but she watches with great interest if I let him near me, pick him up, or love on him. It's as if she just can't decide what she's supposed to do with him.

Then, around lunch time, an amazing thing happened ... Creepy let him get this close .......

Wow, people. I really mean Wow! No major hissy fit, no chasing him away, no running in the other direction to get away from him. An incredible display of tolerance. Of course, Creepy had just been getting her Zen bliss on with her "Cat Magnet", which she loves almost more than me. Gives herself a good scratchin' when I can't. And as you can see, I have a hard time keeping the cat hair cleaned out of it ... but that's neither here nor there in this story.

All right, she did hiss once at him because he was doing the butt-wiggle with intent to pounce on the big orange fluffy thing. He decided not to push his luck and did a funny thing ... he went over to the sofa and got into Creepy's favorite place to nap. Brave little Buckaroo.

Namaste, y'all ...

Abstractly speaking ...

2008-06-25T18:04:00.003-04:00

My theory is that when I'm stuck in an artistic rut my best course of action is to paint an abstract. Oh sure, there's a certain amount of structure to painting an abstract, but for the most part, it's an exercise in creativity and letting your sense of the visual take over the process. In an odd sort of way it's somewhat like creating an image through graphic design. It's really rather liberating. It's therapeutic. Y'all, it's just a damn lot of fun.

Since I prefer to work on large canvases I work on the floor when painting an abstract. I throw a towel down on the carpet - yeah, carpet in a studio, I know - and just start mushing gesso and various texture mediums on the canvas. Break out the big fan and let that dry. Then the magic begins. I dig through my stash of acrylic paints, pick out colors that strike my fancy, grab a few paint brushes, a spray bottle of water and a bottle of alcohol and get to work. My most recent abstract-in-progress has been on that towel several times already.

It began it's metamorphosis several months ago as an attempt at an abstract design of a field of Texas bluebonnets. I had this idea: a visual of looking down from an aerial view, maybe like being in an airplane, over a field of bluebonnets. Considering I've never looked down at a field of bluebonnets somewhere high in the sky over Texas you can probably guess the first attempt wasn't a success. My husband, a real live Texan, took one look and asked me what the Hell it was supposed to be. Try as he might, he never could see it as bluebonnets ... and the man knows what those damn bluebonnets look like. I considered it a bomb and stuck the canvas in the closet for awhile.

But the idea kept nagging at the back of my brain. Struggling to be brave in the face of adversity, I dragged it out of the closet and gave it another go. Again, dismal failure. The husband took one look at the painting, one look at me, then quietly shook his head. In frustration I shoved the canvas back in the closet and ended up attempting it yet again on a smaller scale. Sadly, what was supposed to be an abstract painting became the landscape, Field Of Bluebonnets. Well, I must have done something right with that one because the husband loved it. Thinks it's one of my better paintings. Go freakin' figure. I don't even really like landscapes. I'm stumped. I think it's okay, but honestly, that's about as much enthusiasm as I can muster for it.

Feeling cranky from inability to abstractly render a decent image of a field of bluebonnets, and from not really doing any art at all of late, I decided to pull out the other canvas and play with it. What the heck, right? It already had texture medium and some paint on it. Why waste it? Certainly couldn't hurt it. Maybe something could come of it, even if it wasn't a stinkin' field of bluebonnets. So out of the closet it came one more time and took it's place on the Mystic Towel Of Abstraction. (yeah, yeah)

I liked the rust and terra cotta colors I'd put on the canvas from the first time I'd worked with it. It still had a patch of blue in the middle from before as well. I sat in the floor and stared at it until my mind started to wander. I kept being drawn to that little patch of bright blue. I started thinking about water, about big lakes and trees and small sandy beaches at the edge of the water where you could park a camping chair and prop up a fishing pole. I could see little tributaries branching off, meandering across the landscape, creating little tiny lakes of their own. I could see the rough, rugged mountains rising up from the landscape, bare of trees but full of color from the layers of earth that built them up.

This is what has developed thus far .......

Laying upon the Mystic Towel Of Abstraction.

The texture medium in detail.

The abstract as it currently looks.

Please bear in mind these photos were taken in the studio, incorrect lighting and all that crap. It really looks better live and in person. I swear. Those weirdly faded parts are just how the paint reacted to the flash on the camera. I tried it without the flash, but the pictures came out blurry and even crappier than with it. So. Anyhoo. Moving on.

Now, where I will go from here is still a mystery. I'm going to go back into the studio this evening and ponder it for awhile. I'm bordering on liking it as it is, but feel that it still needs some tinkering here and there. It's not "just right". When I'm finished I'm going to coat it with a layer of varnish which, in theory, will give the colors an extra boost. I think the green really needs it because it has a tendency to be dull on the canvas sometimes. This is one of those times.

I'm already thinking about the next abstract. I'm envisioning really bright colors, almost neon, but I'm not sure how to accomplish that with the type of paints I have. I'm not really wanting to purchase more right now either. But I want to try something with vibrant magentas, orange, turquoise and maybe a rich cobalt blue. We'll see how it goes. For now, it's one abstract at a time.

Namaste, y'all ...

Isn't it grand? ...

2008-06-24T08:52:00.004-04:00

A "Grand Opening", that is.

This past Friday our store had it's official Grand Opening! While I wouldn't say it was a run-away success, which is naturally what I would have liked, we still did very well. I'm pleased at the response. I know it will only continue to grow.

Technically, Paul and I opened the center/store on April 23rd. In business, it's referred to as a 'soft opening'. It gets the doors open, gives the public a chance to learn about the business being open without the worry of grand opening pressure. People come in and see what you have, services you offer and you get an opportunity to find out what people are looking for. Come time for the 'grand opening', typically scheduled about a month after the soft opening, you are more prepared.

And what did we add to our center in the past month? Well, exciting stuff!

A friend and naturopathic physician-in-training, Judy LeRoux, has put some of her products in the store and is now offering in-house consultations as well. This woman really knows her stuff and I'm tickled pink to have her services available to customers.
Ralph Timmerman, whom I've known for several years as an acquaintance but had no idea he was a licensed massage therapist, has taken one of our rental areas and is offering a variety of massage therapies at the center. I started getting my very first massage the other day but was interrupted and had to get back to work. Trust me, I'm getting a full-fledged appointment ASAP! Wow! It's really nice that Ralph is such a nice man, too. Not hard on the eyes either, if you ladies know what I mean .... :)
A new friend, Char Mullen, has gifted us with a consignment arrangement on a large selection of her stones and crystals, as well as a good selection of essential oils. The stones/crystals really add a wonderful display and sparkle (y'all know I love me some sparkles!) to the retail space. Char is also a licensed spiritual counselor and offers astrology consultations, sacred card readings (which she's very good at!!!), medicine wheel teachings along with other classes and groups. I'm glad I've met her and I'm looking forward to building this new friendship with her.

One of the draws to our grand opening was the 10 minute freebie Reiki sample sessions Paul and I offered. I'm not sure how many we ended up doing (a lot!) and every single person walked away impressed and/or pleased. I'm sure we'll end up booking full appointments from most all of them. That's a good feeling. To know that we are bringing something so foreign to this area, to these people and their traditional, if not somewhat narrow, way of thinking about health and wellness and they are surprisingly receptive to it.

Out of all the people who've come in since we opened the doors, I don't think I've had but maybe one client so far who knew anything about Reiki. All of them have never even heard the word, have no clue what it is, but a strong enough of a cord was struck for them to get past their hesitations and reservations and try it. Several are already repeat clients. It makes me happy to think Paul and I are planting seeds of change within our community, we're building a true wellness center. I find that amazing.

But most of all, I find it humbling.

Namaste y'all ...

An unexpected addition to the family.

2008-06-15T19:21:00.006-04:00

Walking out to my truck after leaving the store on Saturday afternoon I heard the one sound that can rip straight to my heart and flood my eyes with tears in 2.2 seconds ... a lost kitten meowing. Our store is in the middle of town and the public parking area behind it is located in the middle of busy streets. The only way a kitten could have gotten back there was for someone to have set it out.

Alone. Defenseless. Starving. Scared.

Damn people and their heartlessness!!!

I tossed my stuff in the truck and started following the sound to the source. I discovered the little fur ball under the loading ramp of the store located behind ours. No way I could get to it. Chain link fencing, overgrown vines, big delivery van parked in the way. Poor thing was so frightened, wanting to come to me but terrified to do so. There we were, it meowing in distress, my stomach turning into knots. For about fifteen minutes I tried soft talking and coaxing, holding out my hand and wiggling my fingers for it to come to me. It just meowed and peaked it's little nose around the wood framing of the dock. It stayed at distance, a frustrating arms length away.

Then I remembered one of the artists that rents studio space in the basement of our store had a can of tuna! I rushed back inside, fumbling with my keys to unlock the door, ran down the stairs, found the tuna ... no can opener. Damn! I knew I had to go to the grocery store to get food for Creep anyway so I ran back out to the truck, drove as quickly as traffic and the speed limit would allow - okay, slightly faster - ran through the store, grabbed a bag of Creepy food, a bag of kitten food and a small can of soft kitten food for the lure. I elbowed my way through the crowds to the self-check isle, stomped my foot in frustration at the slowness of it, and hurried back out the door as fast as I could. Praying the whole time the kitten would still be there, that it hadn't tried to go across any of the streets.

I came screeching back into the parking lot, all but flinging myself out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, all ears for that pitiful meowing. Still there! The can had a pull-tab. I ripped it off, only then realizing I didn't have a spoon or anything to get it out of the can. Yeah, well, that's why God gave us fingers. I found a piece of scrap fabric laying on the steps beside the loading dock (that particular store is a fabric shop) and put a little food down just past the edge of the dock.

A tiny little nose peeked out, sniffing the air, and quickly gobbled that pebble sized bit of food. I tried putting small bits of food in a line to the whole can, hoping it would work it's way long the trail, to the can so I could snatch it up. Alas, it was just too scared to come out more than a nose length. Only once did it stick it's head out far enough that I could go for the scruff of the neck. I wasn't expecting it and unfortunately the kitten moved back faster than I could grab.

It was starting to get late. I'd sat there for almost two hours. I was torn. I was afraid I couldn't catch it but I knew I couldn't just go off and leave it there. Every time I thought I would have to give up, to leave it, it would meow and my heart would cramp up like it was being squeezed by a huge fist. Finally, I sent up a prayer and asked what was the right thing to do. Not all creatures can live. Not all creatures can be saved. Sometimes, no matter how much it hurts, no matter the guilt I would have to find a way to live with, I might have to let it die. I knew it would be getting dark soon, the threat of a storm lurking overhead. I might have to just get in the truck and go home. With tears in my eyes, I prayed from the heart and asked ... "What do I do?"

I heard one word. Patience.

I took that can of food, dumped the whole thing on that piece of cloth and set it on the ground at the edge of the dock. I waited. It seemed like an hour but finally this tiny little head comes out, nose twitching. A little further. A little closer to the food. It's stomach overcoming the fear long enough to venture far enough out to eat. Meowing and grabbing mouthfuls of food at the same time.

That time I was ready.

I snatched it up before it knew what happened.

I quickly snuggled it in my lap and stuck the food back in it's face. I held it as gently but as firmly as I could and it ate more than half that can of food. As soon as it stopped eating I yanked my t-shirt out (from being tucked in my pants) and wrapped the bottom if it around the kitten, hurried across the parking lot and jumped in the truck. The kitten stayed wrapped in my shirt almost all the way home. About a mile or so from the house it got loose and went straight under the seat.

Oh great! I could just see it leaping out and running off into the woods as soon as I parked in the driveway behind the house. When I got home I eased the truck door open and slipped out. I found it, hunched into a ball and shivering with fright, under the backside of the seat and quickly snuggled it back into my t-shirt. Straight shot into the house and into the master bathroom. With it safely ensconced in there I was able to get one of Creepy's extra litter boxes fixed with litter, food and water in bowls, a few spare cat toys and went into the bathroom with the stuff. It was hiding behind the laundry hamper.

Poor thing. I put the hamper on it's side and lined it with towels and my t-shirt. I put the kitty in with a stuffed toy skunk for company while I got everything else ready. It wasted little time getting to the food bowl. Drank a bit of water. Skittered around it's new environment for a minute. Then the most wonderful thing happened ... it came up to me and head-butt loved my hand. It started to purr like crazy. For the next thirty minutes I got an incredible, full-fledged dose of kitty love.

I don't know if it was just grateful for being saved and now felt safe and protected, it's belly full, a warm pair of hands of hold it and pet it, a warm washcloth bath (which it totally loved!) to make it feel a little cleaner. I don't know. What I do know is it is the sweetest, lovingest, purringest, fuzz ball I've had the pleasure of holding in a very long time. It was worth being saved. A hundred times over.

Now, I don't think Creepy will agree to that one iota. Nope, Creepy thinks it's a nasty, horrible, vermanistic abomination violating her world. When Creepy smelled it on my hands she laid her ears back and hissed like the Devil had just reared up out of the ground. She ran and hid under the dining room table and had a growling fit. Hussy actually swatted at me as I walked past. After she settled down, and I washed my hands, we made peace with some cat treats.

Later, when I opened the bathroom door and was sitting there on the floor with the kitten, Creepy came to investigate. Spying the kitten, she stopped in her tracks at the doorway, lowered her back and ears, growled and slunk backwards in retreat. I didn't see her for the next half hour. Not an unexpected reaction, considering her history of antisocial behavior with all other cats. I knew from the get-go this wasn't going to be easy. Creepy has been the sole feline in this house since her arrival eight years ago. She isn't going to adjust to another kitten quickly, nor easily ... if at all.

I tried bringing the kitten into the living room and sitting on the couch with it for awhile to see what Creepy would do. When she first came over she didn't realize the kitten was there. When the kitten, whom I've named "Tuck" because of the way he tucks his tail and tucks his body into the crook of your arm to snuggle, peeked over the edge of the sofa Creepy almost fainted. Her ears flattened completely and she hissed at both me and Tuck with true and sincere hostility. I tried to talked to her calmly, introduce the kitten, but I didn't dare reach out to touch her. I'm sure I would have drawn back a bloody stump of a hand. She was that upset. She again retreated to the safety of the dining room table, glaring and growling her disapproval of the situation and the invader.

Last year I debated for awhile about getting another cat. I'd thought that if it stood any chance of working it would have to be a kitten. But, fear of how Creepy would react, fear of her hurting a little kitty made me decide against it. Now, a kitten has come to me, to my care, and I don't know what to do. To be honest, I'm not sure this will work out well. Like I said, it may be impossible to get Creepy to even tolerate his presence in some semblance of acceptance. I just don't know. But then, it may be exactly what Creepy needs, a friend and playmate. I've always had at least two cats when I've had them at all. They keep each other company. But Creepy has always been alone. She may be too old and set in her ways to put up with the indignities of another cat in the house. I do have a great fear she will hurt it. Creepy is a big girl and this kitten is so small, so frail. I will admit freely that I'm worried about how it's going to go between the two of them.

But Tuck is a darling. At first, I thought he was black but in the light I discovered he's dark chocolate brown with faint lighter brown markings. Even his little feet pads and nose are brown. Well, take a look at the photos and see him for yourself ......

Aaaaah! Holy smokes, what was that flash!

Mmmmmm! Hands are for lovin'!

I like feet! They are really good for lovin', too!

Must kill this thing with feathers!

Yummy! Food! And my head fits so nicely in the bowl!

So, naturally I called the husband and told him about our new addition. He's excited. I had to take the pictures and send them to his phone because he won't be home until this coming weekend. No way he could stand it that long to see his new baby. I told him, "Well, it's a day early, but Happy Father's Day! It's a boy!" He laughed. I have a feeling this cat, if he survives the Creepy, may end up being a "daddy's boy" the way Creepy is a "momma's girl". The husband loves lovey cats and Tuck is certainly that. A snuggler with a capital S.

Tomorrow I guess I have to call and make an appointment with the vet for a once-over inspection and de-worming. Then in a few months it will be another appointment for the "snip" ... which I'm a firm believer in having done. All of the pets I've ever had have been spayed or neutered. Not that I have to worry about more kittens, but I don't want Tuck to break bad with his whole maleness and mark up the house with urine, ya' know? Not a pleasant thing.

Wish me luck!

Namaste, y'all ...

Showdown at the OK Corral

2008-06-03T10:08:00.003-04:00

It started out as a nice morning. Not to warm yet, everything was quiet. Since I'm not going in to town today I let Creepy go outside. She loves it out there. I left the back door open and pulled the sliding screen closed so I could hear her if she wanted in for a snack. So I'm here at the computer, drinking my coffee, checking email and reading blogs. The Creeps was hanging out on the porch. Yep, all quiet and peaceful for about twenty minutes.

Grrrrrrrr. Yeeeooooowwwwwwww. Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

I'm far too familiar with those sounds. It meant we had an intruder. Our sacred space and peaceful morning had been violated. Buddy had come to call. As far as Creepy is concerned, Buddy is not a welcome guest.

"Hey! You're in my space fur face. I'm startin' to get fuzzed over here!
Don'tcha' dare come any closer!"

"I will kill you with my death ray eyes!"

"What???"

"Sheesh! I'm just layin' here. I swear! I ain't doin' nuthin'!"

"I reign surpreme!"

The stand off lasted about half an hour. Creepy holding down the porch railing, emitting threatening growls and hissing. The nemesis, Buddy, wallowed around in the gravel, occasionally looking at Creepy as if she'd completely flipped her lid. I guess he got tired of the negative energy and wandered off to find a more congenial place to hang.

Death of an icon.

2008-06-02T08:22:00.006-04:00

PARIS (AFP) — French fashion giant Yves Saint Laurent, one of the great designers of the 20th century who revolutionized women's dress, has died at the age of 71 after a lengthy illness.

Saint Laurent, whose black trouser suits and safari jackets became an icon of women's liberation in the 1960s, died late Sunday of a brain tumour, his former lover and longtime business partner Pierre Berge said.

He had suffered poor mental and physical health for much of his life and had been seriously ill "for a year," Berge told French radio. The funeral will take place Friday in Paris.

The reclusive designer retired from haute couture in 2002 after four decades at the top, designing for French actress Catherine Deneuve and using supermodels such as Jerry Hall and Laetetia Casta to show off his clothes.

French leaders and fashion chiefs hailed Saint Laurent as a fashion revolutionary.

"One of the greatest names of fashion has disappeared, the first to elevate haute couture to the rank of art," said French President Nicolas Sarkozy.

"Yves Saint Laurent infused his label with his creative genius, elegant and refined personality, discreet and distinguished, during a half century of work, in both luxury and ready-to-wear, because he was convinced that beauty was a necessary luxury for all men and all women," Sarkozy said in a statement.

Berge said Saint Laurent "knew perfectly well that he had revolutionised haute couture, the important place he occupied in the second half of the 20th century".

"Yves St Laurent invented everything, revisited everything, transformed everything to the service of a passion, to let woman shine and to free her beauty and mystery," said Francois Pinault, head of the PPR fashion empire in a statement.

**********************************************************

My earliest memories of "fashion" are images of YSL designs featured in Vogue magazine. I fell in love with his work, his artistic way with fabric, color and design. I wanted to wear his clothes but sadly, I'm not rich. Back in 1978, when I was earning my own money the very first perfume I bought for myself was his classic scent, launched in 1971, called Rive Gauche. It's a wonderful fragrance and I've never been without a bottle of it since that first one I purchased.

A few years later I bought his perfume, Opium, launched in 1977. While I so still love the Rive Gauche, this became my absolute favorite perfume. Again, never without a bottle of this stuff. It's the most incredibly spicy yet sexiest perfume I've ever smelled. I wish my whole house could smell like it. I'd just stand around sniffing the air all the time.

While I was in college I religiously bought Vogue magazine every month. At a quick glance I could identify a YSL design, thinking to myself how beautiful they were. I even briefly entertained the idea of being a fashion designer, too. When I attended the Art Institute of Atlanta for the graphic design program I came very close to switching my major to fashion and would sometimes venture down the street from the school to Phipps Plaza to the YSL boutique. I would stand and stare in the window. I don't know why but I could never bring myself to go inside.

Sadly, I've never owned a YSL ladies tuxedo jacket though I've always dreamed of wearing one. I've never carried a YSL purse or worn YSL shoes. My bottles of perfume have been the extent of my ownership of anything bearing that famed YSL name. But that's okay. There's always "some day ....." and I can live with that.

RIP YSL.

Namaste, y'all ...

A lovely and interesting Wednesday!

2008-05-22T09:30:00.001-04:00

We got our first official "walk-in" for Reiki at the store yesterday. Not only that, it was a 'paid for three one hour sessions' walk-in. Hoorah! We've had other people come in but it wasn't a stranger, an unknown person off the street kind of session. It felt like a milestone of accomplishment. I had the feeling that the ball is starting to roll downhill now.

I also had a "walk-in" for a psychic reading, scheduled an appointment for today at 6:00pm. It's a first of sorts as well. Again, I've done lots of readings, even at the store space, but it's the first official one since the store opened. Needless to say, it added to the whole rolling ball feeling. After she left, I stood in the middle of the store and said a prayer of gratitude.

Third point of interest is the new company the husband works for "cut him loose" yesterday from training, put him in a temporary truck and put him on the road. This is good in that he'll start earning a regular paycheck sooner, (rah! rah! rah!) but also will help in his starting to establish more of a routine for being out - coming home. Doing so will go a long way towards creating a more comfortable arrangement for the husband. He likes routine and he likes his home time.

The last thing of interest is a conversation I had with a friend. I won't go into all the details because they are personal to her, but what was of most interest to me is the conversation validated an intuitive knowing I had a while back about her and a friend of hers. Long story short, I "knew" within a couple of months her friend would be revealed in a new light, that what my friend had believed to be a deep, true friendship between the two of them really wouldn't be quite so true. I knew that my friend would be faced with a disappointment and disillusionment in her friend. I hoped I was wrong. I'm sad to say I wasn't.

As I sat and listened to my friend talk, watching her eyes cloud with confusion and doubt about her friend and what to do with the situation, I felt heavy hearted. It's difficult to put faith and trust in someone only to find out later they weren't friend enough to appreciate it, deserve it, respect it, value it. To see past their smoke and mirrors and catch a clear glimpse of their true nature - that they are so completely and totally focused on themselves that you and your friendship is really barely an afterthought, much less anything above lowly place.

But I could also see the flip side of the struggle. As a friend, she still wants to help, was to give of herself, with compassion and sincerity, but it wars with the disillusionment - which breeds a nasty, niggly sense of guilt.Rock = Hard Place.

I tried to be objective and open, to be an ear to listen and a sounding board for the things she needed to say. Then I gave her my thoughts about the situation, my honest opinions and impressions about the friend. (I know the person) Truth is, I feel a certain level of sympathy for her friend. She not in a good place mentally, physically or emotionally. The worst part is her friend won't even see her own accountability for the bad place she is in. She is very much stuck in the "victim" mode. Trust me, it's a big black soul sucking hole of a place. Not easily shed nor walked away from if you've been there awhile. I think her friend has been there a very long time.

Thing is, you can't do anything about where another person is in their life. It's their path they must walk, their own journey. It may be a mildly bumpy road. It may be the equivalent of attempting to scale Mt. Everest with nothing but flip-flops and toothpicks. Sometimes the only way to be a friend is to let them do what they have to do, even if it hurts. It's their life and their lessons to learn or not learn. For my friend, I think this is one of those times.

For me, as I said, it was a sad validation of my intuition. Being right about something isn't always a bowl of strawberries and Cool-Whip. Sometimes being 'psychic' brings information you really prefer not to know about people. You can see some of the bumps in their road and you know you can't do a damn thing about it. You have to stand back and keep your mouth shut because it's a lesson for them to learn. And y'all, that's what life is ... learning the lessons of being human.

Without question, I don't want to see anyone get used or taken advantage of, but I really do hate to see someone's faith and trust in another person get blown out of the water. Losing a job or having your car keel over on the side of the road isn't a positive thing, but the loss of faith in a friend is, well, the pits. It hurts on many levels and isn't easy to deal with. The upside is that my friend has me and other friends who to talk to about it, who understand the situation, and who, above all, really do care about her. If you have to lose one friend it's nice to know there's still a whole herd of them standing right behind you.

So, it's off to work I go this morning ... wonder what today will bring?

Namaste, y'all ...

Y360 blogging memories.

2008-05-21T10:07:00.000-04:00

Until November of '07 I blogged on Yahoo 360◦. I really enjoyed that blog. I had lots of friends and we all stayed connected. We'd read each other's posts, make comments and send silly messages to each other. In the relatively short time I was there I had over 10,000 visits to my page. It was a lot of fun. Honestly, it was hard to leave it behind. Why did I? Well, a number of reasons.

One of the things that bugged me was whenever I would leave the link to my blog somewhere it never connected to the most current page. It linked to an old entry and wouldn't update to the newest entry, thus seeming that I never entered anything past October '06. Another thing were the Yahoo gremlins. Sneaky little bastards often ran amok, taking away the comments, poofing my avatar image into the internet void for days, and a host of other irritating technical snafus. Then came the word from Yahoo they were going to close down Y360 and shift everything to another platform. Something like Multiply.com or such. I didn't want the hassle of it. There was also the inevitable slow down of blogging among my friends. Life can get busy, blogging takes a back seat to every day duties.

Another major thing was my own time for blogging. I had opened the blog here with e-blogger, planning to incorporate it into my new website design. It was a pain in the patootie sometimes to blog on one and then update the same info on the other. I wanted to concentrate my efforts into this blog, not divide my attention between the two. Funny, considering how little I've blogged of late. I used to keep my blog page hoppin' over at the Y. I have to say I believe I wrote some really good stuff on that blog. I haven't been much of a story teller here.

Why is that?

One of the things I realize I've really missed about being over at Y360 was the feedback from friends. I'd post a blog and in no time I'd be getting notification in my email this friend or that friend had commented on my post. I loved to read those comments. They made me feel connected, like the stories I was telling were interesting and entertaining to my Y360 friends. It was sort of like having an audience to talk to. It made me work hard to give them something worth reading.

Since being here there's been almost zero in feedback/comments. I know a couple of friends who do read this stuff, but that's about all they do. Read it and move along. No response. No repartee. No rapport. No sense of being a part of a community. I'm just another blogger, blogging amid a gazillion other bloggers in blog land. It's kind of depressing. It's like talking to someone, hear no reply and when you look over to see why not you discover they are asleep. No one heard you.

Now don't get me wrong, blogging isn't about just filling up the comment box. It's a kind of therapy for me. Making myself talk about things in a very public forum. It's putting myself out there on "display", teaching myself to be open when I've spent 95% of my life trying to not be noticed, keep my feelings and emotions tightly wrapped and hidden from view. And, more times than not, those kind of Y360 post would would gets comments of great advice, encouragement, or "I've been there, don't that!" replies. It was comforting, like there were others out there who really understood what I was talking about or going through.

Granted, I don't expect this post to garner any comments anymore than the previous posts to this blog. And, again, it's not what my blogging is really all about. But I will confess I do miss them sometimes. I miss the Y360 family. Contemplating this sparked me to repost my page with MySpace. Of course, I'm not ending this blog, it's my main blog and a part of my website. But MySpace is an active community and there's a good change of making some new friends over there. We'll see how it goes.

Namaste, y'all ...

The bride wore black.

2008-05-20T10:24:00.005-04:00

Wow. Eight years ago today I got married - so y'all, today is my wedding anniversary to the husband. Two things of note: 1) I'm surprised I ever got married and 2) this is the first year we actually remembered our anniversary on the correct date. It's amazing.

It's a joke between the husband and I that we have yet to remember to tell each other "happy anniversary" on the date we got married each year. Every stinkin' year we forget. While it's no surprise to me, it is to the husband because he's the sentimental type. He usually remembers that kind of stuff. He remembers to call all of his brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, and others important individuals on their birthdays, etc.

On the other hand, I do good to remember my own birthday half the time. I have to write the important dates for loved ones on a calendar ... and even then I don't always remember! But you would think I would remember a wedding anniversary, especially my own. Alas, it's slipped my mind - and his - every single year since we tied the knot. Typically, we remember the day after, once it was almost a week after. The only time we got it on the right day was just barely under the wire. It dawned on me around 11:00pm that evening. I called the husband (he was out over the road) and asked him if he knew what day it was. He said, "It's Wednesday." I laughed 'til I nearly peed my pants. Naturally, he was confused about why I thought Wednesday was so damn funny. When I told him it was our anniversary his response was, "Well, F%$#@! We forgot again!" I told him that as long as we got it before midnight it still counted. Once in seven years. Sheesh! Hmmm ... I remembered today, so that's technically twice in eight years. On a roll.

I guess it's not the date that is important so much as the fact we did the deed, and we're still married. Like I said in note #1, I'm surprised I got married at all. I never really planned on it. Given my life at the time, I was sure I never would. Hell, I didn't think I would ever date again. It was a rough time in my life when I met the husband. Hooking up with someone was the last thing on my mind. As a matter of fact, one of the very first conversations the husband and I had was about the man and the break-up I was going through. It was awful. I was devastated, an emotional train wreck. I won't go into all those nasty details. Suffice it to say romance wasn't high on my priority list.

The other joke between the husband an I is telling people how we met. The internet. I call him my ebay bargain and he refers to me as his email bride. When I first met the husband I was suffering severe insomnia. I couldn't sleep, couldn't shut off my brain. Several months before I had quit my job, sold everything I owned, moved back home and was living in my sister's garage. I had very little savings, was struggling to start out as an artist, and believed I had lost the love of my life. I was miserable and lonely in a way I had never felt before. It was especially disturbing because, until then, I had always handled being along very well. I like it. I needed lots of "me" time. Still do. In contrast, I also wanted to keep the world at bay. I was hiding in a corner and licking my wounds.

In those wee hours of the morning while my sister and her family slept at night I surfed the internet. Sometimes I would talk to some of my friends from where I had lived in chat rooms because my sister hadn't installed Messenger - and I didn't think to do it, either. I made new friends in the chat rooms, too. It was interesting to talk to people from all over the world and all walks of life. It gave me a form of 'company' yet kept the world at a distance. Sometimes, when I was having a really bad day, I would go into the chat rooms and just watch the conversations of others. That's how I met the husband.

I was sitting at the computer, watching but not participating, when he came into the room. Typically, when you entered you got asked the standard questions: Age, Sex, Location. When someone asked him I noticed he responded he was from Houston, Texas. Someone asked him what he did and replied he was a truck driver. I perked up a little at that. A couple of weeks earlier I had chatted with another guy who was also a truck driver from Houston. I thought "what are the odds???" I asked this new guy if he had heard of the trucking company the other guy worked for. He said yes, he'd heard of it, and we started chatting. I asked about his company and found out he was online because he worked the "late shift". He delivered frozen goods to places like Taco Bell and Burger King. Since he delivered either late after closing or before they opened he was often up and awake in the wee hours, too. Anyway, I guess it was around an hour later or so I got finally sleepy, signed off and went to bed.

The next time I got online and went into a chat room he popped in and said hello. He said he'd enjoyed talking to me and had added me to his "friends" list, thus being able to tell when I came online. I didn't think much about it because I had done the same with my own friends as well as the new friends I was making via the internet. We wound up chatting for awhile that evening about insignificant stuff. I think it was when he asked about my being back home that I lost it. I found myself sitting there bawling like a baby. I couldn't see the computer screen to type, to upset to keep typing anyway, so I just shut it down and went to my room. I didn't even realize I hadn't told him good-bye. I didn't get back online for a few days, but when I did he was there, asking what had happened. I told him the whole sob story. He told me his sob story about his ex-wife. Almost every evening afterwards we would chat for awhile, talking about our lives, our situations. We became friends.

In January 2000, after about seven months of chatting, turned letters, turned phone calls, I hopped a Greyhound and went to Texas to visit. He hadn't been with his current trucking company long enough to have any built up vacation time to hang out with me, but I was okay with that. The plan was to muck around on my own during the day while he slept, we'd have dinner or whatever in the evening before he'd go to work, then I'd hang out some more 'til he was able to come back the next day/evening. I really needed the time away from the cocoon of my sister's garage room where I was staying, from my sad heart, and the stress of trying to start my art career.

A couple of weeks before I got on the bus he called. Surprise news. He'd turned in his two weeks' notice to his employer, lined up another job here in North Carolina and he was going to come back with me ... or rather, I'd be coming back with him and not on a bus. His intent was to get married. I was surprised, really surprised. He'd taken an awfully big leap of faith. But for the life of me I couldn't think of a reason to say no. Despite the fact that we had never met in person, I still knew him. Better yet, he knew me. We had talked about things, been open and honest about things, shared things that people who've been married for years never share or discuss. He felt comfortable to me, and I really liked that. Plus, he had a black cowboy hat and a goatee. And really, what woman can resist a cowboy???

Ended up my plan didn't go according to plan. We spent our time together seeing stuff around Houston, visiting family he had there, and then drove up to New Mexico to meet his mother, Inez, and stepfather, Henry. Freaky. She welcomed me as her new daughter, made me stacks of tortillas and called me "Mija" (Spanish slang for daughter). Henry wasn't any different. He called me "Mija", too. We got back to North Carolina on a Saturday night late. Hung around my sister's on Sunday, recovering from the trip. On Monday, he started his new job. A month later we moved into a rental place with the intention of getting married as soon as finances allowed. Two and a half months later we were hitched. Yes, I did wear black - proof in the photos. A year later we moved into our own home.

I can honestly admit our marriage has never been about romance, it's been about being friends. All right, maybe for the husband it's had a more romantic twist, but not for me. He loves me in that "goo" that is typical of love relationships. My heart has never fully recovered from "the man" before the husband. I married for comfort, for security, stability. Practical reasons. Before you say that's harsh and unfair to him, understand he knew exactly what he was getting into. I told him the unvarnished truth, upfront and without sugarcoating anything. And I do love him. Maybe not the way I did "the man", but it's still a real, honest love. I care about his welfare, I care about his happiness, I care about him as a person and as my husband. It may not be what most people call a marriage, but it works for us and that's what counts.

This morning, I actually remembered it was our anniversary. Around 9:00am I called him on his cell and as soon as he answered he yelled, "Happy Anniversary!" I yelled it back and we both laughed at our goofiness. We both remembered! He was busy getting ready to make a stop so I let him get off the phone and back to work. The point was made. I'm sure when he calls later this evening we'll laugh about it some more.

Happy Anniversary to us!

Namaste, y'all ...