Why does this not surprise me?

Ladies Don't Spit

It was Eric Johnson who could spit through the gap in his teeth as far as his mother's chevy impala station wagon was long in length. He was so cool. I secretly wanted to be just like him.

So I'd practice.

I'd roll my tongue around inside my mouth sucking up as much saliva I could find and when I had a spoonful of warm fluid, I would strain it through the gap of my 7-year-old teeth. But. The little bit of warm pathetic spit I could muster up, would drivel down in front of my bottom teeth just inside my lower lip and would never leave my mouth.

I was not cool.

I learned how to spit by taking a mouthful of water from my drinking glass and straining it out that way. It never went the distance of Eric's spit, but I felt I could become a close third to his spitting skills.

My dad was scraping barnacles under an old fishing boat in the driveway of our home when I ran up to him. "Prepare to be impressed!" And I ran back inside the house to fill my mouth with water.

I ran back outside and poked him on his shoulder until he noticed me. Then, acting as if I was about to throw a shot-put in a track meet, I leaned way back at first and then I bent way over and shot the water through the gap in my front teeth over into the ivy bordering the driveway.

I then looked back at my dad ready to hear him cheer and tell me how thrilled he was for my new skills I had learned.

Instead, he said. "Shawn! Don't ever do that again! Ladies don't spit!"

His words echoed inside my head for quite a while. "Ladies don't spit. Ladies don't spit." Did my dad lose his mind? I was clearly not a lady but a seven-year-old girl. Ladies wore dresses with nylons and high heeled shoes and carried purses with a handle and wore hats on their heads with bobby pins in their hair.

I turned around and walked back toward the house to play spirograph when I noticed my sister's red unicycle leaning against the house. I pushed it up to our front porch and straddled the seat between my legs and sat up on it, holding on to the railing practicing my balance, rocking back and forth. Back and forth.

Could I ever learn to ride it? I daydreamed about riding the unicycle to school.

Because. I knew if I did that. I would be really cool. Even more cool than spitting through the gap in my teeth.

An Ending to a Weekend

It turned out to be a nice weekend after all.

It started off with an awful storm Friday morning. I can't really complain because I think it has only rained once or twice since the last time I posted about the rain. And, I always think .... if it's gonna rain, then let it rain hard. Let's have some weather! And, we did. Waking up to window-shaking wind ... (two bridges shut down and highway 101 did too, for most of the day)... it turned out to be quite the storm. But it was also exhilarating, too. Adrenalin-induced.

But. By Saturday afternoon, I felt sorta worn out. Like one of those limp newspapers sitting outside in the rain all day. Not a whole lot of tangible give. I kept reaching deep into my pockets to deliver something wonderful and accomplished in my day, but, instead, just kept pulling up lent.

This morning I woke up late, but after showering, I felt inspired to work on my house. I first started to paint my bathroom cabinets. This is how it looked BEFORE I painted the cabinets:
And let's just leave it at that.

Because once I started painting them a dark latte color, I realized I liked them sooo much better white, so they are white again. Okay. Not as white as in these photos. Tomorrow I will give them their second coat and let's leave it at that.

I also started working on the third bedroom. It's been a catch-all room filled with unfinished paintings. A few boxes of old books. Piles of old videotapes I want to copy to DVD and too many pillows. The vacuum is stored in there. And an overnight bag filled with unwanted clothes. Time to de-clutter.

I will enjoy this room soon. I put cable hookups in there a few months ago. I look forward to sitting in there and watching television or reading a book. It will become my sanctuary.

I love my home. I do.
I've done a lot on it with my shoestring budget.

Lately, after watching on HGTV, that fairly new popular show, "My House is Worth, What?!" I have seen the importance of keeping it updated. My kitchen is the same 1956 kitchen so I need to update it. My master bathroom is named appropriately. I someday want to turn it into a MISTER bathroom. No more little smallness to it. I want to push the room back a good five feet and put in a spa tub and create a walk-in closet next to it, in doing so.

I figure when I sell my home, I would much rather put the money into it now and enjoy living in it, than giving the new owner the money to upgrade.

Tonight I fixed myself a roast dinner with carrots and potatoes. I LOVED it.

It wasn't as delicious as I had hoped it would turn out, but it felt so nurturing and fed my soul.

Cleaning up the house, rinsing out my paint brushes, tossing out clutter... and smelling the aroma of the roast cooking slowly in the oven gave me such a huge hug and bolt of energy and happiness.

I can hear the pitter and patter of rain outside my window now. It is cold outside, but warm inside. And I feel the warm glow inside me, too.

Such a perfect day to end my weekend. Tomorrow is another day. The seventh day into 2008. I so want to make the most of it.

View my fabrics in a slideshow

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

January can be a really cold month for lots of people and many will wear mittens to keep warm.

Ever since my early 20s, my hands freeze no matter what month it is.

It doesn't take much for my fingers to lose circulation. I could be holding a glass of water or a set of car keys. Or it can set it off by grabbing something out of the refrigerator. When ordinary people can put on a pair of mittens or heavy socks to make them feel warm again, it doesn't seem to help me at all. I can't seem to keep the warmth in.

First my fingers turn white from lock of blood flow and when I place them in warm water to warm them up, (or near a heater), there is an intense throbbing and tingling as the blood flows back in. Similar to the feeling of when your foot falls asleep and you jump up quickly and it feels like bolts of electricity running through it.

When the blood starts flowing again, it turns them quite purple... (nearly appearing black) before it turns to bright red as the blood flows back in them. (Can you see the purple in my ring finger on my left hand?)

I took these photos today during lunch at the local IHOP. It was warm inside the restaurant, but holding the cold silverware in my hands caused the blood vessels to constrict.

It happens to my feet as well. Sometimes I can only walk on the heals of my feet until the blood circulates through them again. I've run on a treadmill for thirty minutes with numb feet before, and though I was even sweating, I still couldn't feel my feet and had to get off by the severe pain of running on feet without blood flow.

It's truly a strange phenomena. And it has a name to it: Reynaud's Syndrome.

Wishing everyone a warm New Years! (But. Not tooo warm where it affects global warming).

Nothing takes a few minutes

I was in a hurry.

Should I take the time to run into Rite Aid? I only had a few minutes, but if I hurried, I could do it. I only needed to pick up a couple of things.

The line was short and I felt so happy and relieved I made the right decision to run in there. I made it through in lightening speed.

"Would you like cash back?"
"Sure," I reply. "Forty dollars, please."

A quick decision that would save me trip to the bank. Or. So I thought.

She handed me $40 with my small bag of purchases and my receipt. I rarely ever look down at my receipt. But, as I walked out the door, I happened to glance at it for a moment and noticed the sales woman overcharged me $360 dollars!

I turn around and return to her counter.

"There's been a mistake...." I begin to tell her.
"Please get at the end of the line and I will help you."

I look up and there is a long line of people circling around and down the aisle. I was in a huge hurry. I didn't have time to stand back in line and, I didn't think I should stand in line for a mistake the sales woman made.

"I'd like to see the manager", I said, feeling proud of myself for my quick thinking in the rush to get this resolved so I could leave the store.

A young manager still in braces walks up to me, looks at my receipt, puzzled. He didn't know what to make of it.

"Are you sure she didn't give you $400? Did you count your bills?"
"Yes, both of them. It is $40."

I show him the two $20 bills that were still clutched in my hand along with the receipt.

After the line cleared, the sales clerk said she was ready to help me. They decided the only thing they could do was to give me $360 in cash so I can drive to the bank to deposit it back into my account. Naturally, the bank was several miles away in the opposite direction I was going and there was a lot of traffic and the red light lasted longer than usual.

Lesson learned. Nothing takes a few minutes. Especially if you're in a hurry.

Looking forward to the New Year

I am really looking forward to the ending of this year.

Haven't liked it so much.

Sure, there were some really wonderful, beautiful moments in this year. (My niece was born!) But it has also been a year of great sadness and loss as well.

Way too much loss. Unwanted goodbyes. Deep losses. Way too much heartache. And a ridiculous amount of sobbing into my pillow. There has been too many times of feeling the rug being ripped out from under me.

I jumped the gun when I said that my mom was fine. She is not.

When I was a very young girl, like maybe only 2 or 3, we were visiting my cousins in Long Island and they took us to Coney Island. I still remember refusing to ride the ferris wheel with my mom and sister and cousins. It terrified me. I pleaded through tears for my mom not to go on that scary ride!

In her always-optimistic ways, she tackled that ride without fear.

But, on the ground down below, I held on to Nana so tightly with my tiny little fists clinched so deeply into her arms that she could not pry my little fingers off to hand me over to my aunt. I cried and cried in horror of seeing my mom circling around and each time she passed me, she waved like crazy, smiling down at me. I can still see her in my mind's memory. A tiny little speck in the sky with the constant wave and smile. I was terrified for her safety! She looked so vulnerable, so high up in the sky and there was nothing I could do to keep her safe, except to trust the amusement park safety people.

It is one of my earliest recollections.

Today, I feel as though I'm that same little 2 or 3 year-old little daughter screaming in fear. There is nothing I can do to guarantee her safety! Holding on, and holding my breath. Watching. Waiting.

I am going through the deepest fear of my life. (Read #25)

She has cancer. And it is has gone to her lymph nodes. And in a couple of days we will know if it has spread to her chest and brain.

If are reading this, then I believe you can take a moment to do what you do in prayer, or in warm thoughts, or in lighting a candle or in positive beliefs ..... in pushing my mother forward to wellness and in good health.

I know many cancer survivors.

My focus and prayers and thoughts and belief is that her cancer has not spread and they will get it all in her upcoming successful surgery. That she will have at least another 20 more healthy, fun, happy summers and winters ahead of her.

I so believe in the power of prayer. Thank you for your friendship and for the virtual hug. I am resending that hug over to my mom. And to the rest of my family. You carry us.

xo

Merry Christmas

New York City Today

My single left black glove is now taking a free ride along busy streets of New York City on the floor inside a warm yellow cab alone. It's companion is with me. It's warm, too. Though, my hands are not.

It is cold outside. Snow and ice collecting itself around trees and curbs.

It is New York City after all.

I am back from a Company Scavenger Hunt. It was a part of our office party. We picked numbers and became a team. That was fun! Can you imagine?

Racing the streets for so many different supplies: toilet paper. pizza crust. chop sticks. matchbooks. The hardest part was actually hailing a cab to our destination: our christmas party at 10th and 18th.

Finally we found one. The time felt endless.

We were standing out in front of the Chelsea Hotel when we finally were able to chase down a cab.



Chelsea Hotel. Yeah, you've probably heard of it.

Sid Vicious (bass player of The Sex Pistols) and his girlfriend Nancy Spungeon once stayed there. She was found stabbed to death in the bathroom on October 11, 1978. Sid Vicious was under suspicion of murder when he overdosed shortly thereafter of a heroin overdose.

That's what I was told. While standing there, staring up into that historically famous hotel. My left hand shivering under my armpit.

Apparently a lot of other well-knowns have stayed or lived there: Andy Warhol, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hindrix, Leonard Cohen, Jane Fonda, Sarah Bernhardt among others.

That's where until 1884, the Chelsea Hotel was the highest building in New York City. Now it is swallowed up by its own block of towering buildings.

You learn a lot about a hotel, when you're standing across the street from it for a long period of time, our arms extending out, wishing for a cab with it's light on.

We arrived at our Christmas Party waaay tooo loooong after anyone wanted to see if we collected everything. Even our memories.

We came in last place.

Getting close to the Big Apple

I just pulled out a frozen entree to microwave for a quick lunch.

I flip the carton over to read the instructions. It begins with:
1. Remove tray from box. Cut film cover to vent.

I pull the tray out and notice a thin sheet of ice on top. I remove the thin ice and look for the film cover to poke holes in when I realize there is no film cover. The plastic was never put on!

That just drives me crazy.

Now it's my turn to vent!

i never really know what to do in these situations. How do I not know if this box has been tampered with? Is it laced with poison!? Do I toss it out, assuming it's a frozen entree gone bad? Or, do I heat it up without concern assuming it's just a mistake.

Perhaps the production person, in his excitement of hearing his wife's water broke, was absent-minded and simply forgot to place that film on just before grabbing his coat and leaving for the hospital!

Or... maybe the production person was just about to place it on and his boss walks up behind him and says, "You're fired!" and in his shock and anger, yells, "then forget you!!!" and storms off leaving the conveyor belt and that one frozen entree snuck through without anyone noticing.

Well. The microwave just sounded it's beep and I am hungry so I am going to eat this mushy meal. I am concerned.. but figure it'll be okay. If not, at least it's documented here. Along with that rancid beef jerky I accidentally ate awhile back that I survived after losing six pounds over that sickness.

Early tomorrow morning, I board a plane to New York City. I'll be staying in a studio apartment in the Flatiron District Neighborhood on E 22nd between Park and Broadway. I will walk the couple blocks alone to work at our headquarters on W 22nd. It will be cold.

At home, I am still wearing pants to my mid-calves and going sock less. But for there, I'm packing pants down to my shoes. I'm not sure I'll be prepared for the cold. But I will try. On weather.com it says it's 33 degrees but FEELS LIKE 25.

Who's opinion is that? Would it feel 25 to me? Maybe it would feel more like 16 degrees.

I hope to ice skate in Central Park on Saturday afternoon. On Sunday evening, I will be going to see Avenue Q on Sunday night. Tuesday night is our office Christmas Party.

It will be a fun, busy time and I am ready to embrace this new adventure.

Well. After I stop by Longs and pick up a few items. And pack. And write a list to my pet sitter. And clean up my house. And empty my car. And fill it with gas. and. and. and...

A view from my window

So I'm putting up the dishes this morning when I can't shake this feeling of being stared at. But. By who? WhoOO0oo? I slowly lift my eyes upward and see two eyes staring at me on a rooftop next door.

Is that an owl?

I stop and stare through the window above the sink for a series of moments before my eyes are able to adjust to this owl-like figure. And then my heart melts.

She is my lovely cat, Mollie!!

Feeling nostalgic in music

I think it was 1985 when I first really fell in love with music.

I was living in Tacoma, (Fife Heights) Washington that year and VH-1 was the huge music video channel. I was living in a home with six other girls. Two or three or four of us would come home for our lunch hour and sit on the couch in front of the tv and watch music videos while munching on sandwiches.

I loved Careless Whisper (Wham!), Say You, Say Me (Lionel Richie), Separate Lives (Phil Collins & Marilyn Martin, We Built This City (Starship), Everytime You Go Away (Paul Young), Don't You (Forget About Me) Simple Minds, Saving All My Love For You (Whitney Houston), Never Surrender (Corey Hart), Smooth Operator (Sade), Material Girl (Madonna), Summer of 69 (Bryan Adams), Born in the USA (Bruce Springsteen) and Private Dancer (Tina Turner) ... all huge hits of 1985. I still have vcr tapes of when I recorded my favorite music videos on tv....

When I notice people's bookshelves and see their books I think it tells a lot about someone. I think music does, too. Here's what's playing on my iTunes Shuffle. What's playing on yours?

1. Patty Griffin: Trapeze
2. Sarah Harmer: Open Window
3. Leona Naess: Home
4. Paolo Nutini: These Streets
5. Fugees: Killing Me Softly With His Song
6. John Legend: P.D.A. (We Just Don't Care)
7. Kendall Payne: On My Bones
8. The Killers: Read My Mind
9. The Magic Numbers: Wheels on Fire
10. Brandi Carlile: Turpentine
11. Jann Arden: At Seventeen
12. Mary Gauthier: Long Way to Fall
13. The Innocense Mission: Follow Me
14. Hurts to Purr: Matinee
15. Alan Jackson: Remember When
16. KT Tunstall: Suddenly I See
17. Sarah Bareilles: Love Song
18. Emmylou Harris & Mark Knopfler: So Far Away
19. David Gray: The One I Love
20. Lucinda Williams: Righteously
21. Gillian Welch: Summer Evening

Long Lost Cousin

Are you ever sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic and then get behind a car that stops maybe 100 yards behind the car stopped ahead of him? I feel such anxiety when that happens to me. I want to shout, "It's called bumper-to-bumper traffic! Please drive up to the next bumper!" I am terrified that thirty cars will squeeze in between them causing me to be later than I already am.

I think I have a long-lost cousin that might be one of those drivers. I can't be sure but I'll tell you what happened when I told him to follow me to the freeway ramp.

"As soon as we get out of this neighborhood, we'll be turning left on to a busy boulevard. There will be four lanes with lots of hotels and shopping centers and restaurants along that street. "

He stands there listening to my every word, nodding and making hand gestures, convincing me he's got it memorized. "Once we get on that boulevard," I warn him, "we'll drive along for about a mile. Continue to follow me until we get to the first intersection, and at that light, I will wave to you, and turn right... but you just keep driving straight and that will take you directly to the highway."

He nods and repeats my directions back.


We pile into our cars. I wait for him to adjust his mirror. Put on his seatbelt. Turn on the heater and maybe adjust the radio dial waiting for his favorite song to come on. Finally he inches out away from the curb, braking a bit too hard at first, his head jerking toward the windshield... and eventually he begins to follow me.

We are only four houses away and we're clearly still in the neighborhood when I turn right heading for the busy boulevard when I notice in my rear view mirror that he thinks this must be his sign to keep driving straight. So he does!!!

Now I have to lasso him back in.

I do a quick turn around but it's not quick enough and I'm unsure where he went. I drive down the street and after about a minute, I think I might see him driving ahead of me. I don't want to speed through the neighborhood so I follow him until he gets to a stop sign and I catch up. I jump out and motion for him to turn around and follow me back into the neighborhood.

Startled to see me behind him, he finally understands what I am asking him to do and he swings into someone's driveway, backs up and he's following me once again.

Finally I get him onto the busy boulevard, but instead of going 35 mph, he is going more like 10 mph. He is about 100 yards behind me and even though I keep dropping my speed considerably, he is a long way off. More and more cars are passing him up and coming between us and I no longer can see him in my rear view mirror.

I drive through the green light but he doesn't make it, so I pull to the side of the busy boulevard and wait for him. (This is the intersection where I was supposed to turn right, but fearing it'll confuse him, I decide to stay on the boulevard and take him personally to the freeway ramp). About 3-5 minutes later, I can see his car crawling along the busy street, so I put my blinker on, believing he'll see me and let me in front of him so he can continue to follow my lead, but he doesn't recognize my green bug and doesn't let me in. He passes me by. Now I hafta wait for another few cars to pass before I can edge back in. Now I'm about six cars behind him and I need to figure out how to manuever my way around the traffic to get ahead of him again to show him the way to the freeway.

By the time I make it in front of him, I am just 50 yards from the freeway on-ramp. I put my blinker on to enter the ramp. Clearly, he can read the signs now and follow the directions but because he sees my blinker turning right to get on the ramp, he waves goodbye and honks To0OT! To0OoT! and continues on down the boulevard thinking I'm at the intersection I told him about earlier.

It is too late. I am now getting on the freeway toward his hometown and he is still slowly puttering along the boulevard happy and unaware of his mistake.

I hope this isn't the case, but I'm worried that he's still driving down that same boulevard. If you happen to see a blank expression on a man's face driving extra slow ... not reading any signs... perhaps sporting a beard now, please point him in the direction to the freeway. I think that might be my long lost cousin.

My mother's update

Thank you for letting me know about your warm thoughts, concerns, and prayers I received through personal email and on the comments!! The surgeon doesn't think there is any cancer. The second pathology report will be sent to Stanford for a second opinion though it looks clear. They took the two masses out. She still has her thyroid and her voice. And her life.

We are so grateful. A truly wonderful ending to the Thanksgiving weekend.

Illustration Friday: Zoo

I had a really fun experience creating artwork for the various sets on The Rockimals. These signs in particular were some of the zoo signs they asked me to draw. The last time I was at the san francisco zoo was about 15 years ago and I couldn't remember what zoo signs looked like.

Do they tell fun facts? They should if they don't! I got these facts off the internet.

Thanksgiving holiday

Thanksgiving Day in San Francisco was as lovely as it can be.

Driving along Skyline Boulevard, the air was so warm and there was even barely a snippet of a breeze at Sunset Beach. People got out of the kitchen and wandered up and down the sparkling sandy beach watching the spray of the waves. Even the Golden Gate Bridge looked like the Macy's parade with so many people walking across it. Well. Without the Snoopy balloons and the enormous Shrek and Kermit the Frog and marching bands, of course.

I was so happy to be there. I have spent most of my Thanksgiving holidays here in this amazing City.

Only a few days ago, my mom got scheduled for major surgery for this upcoming Monday. It seems so quick. A bit unsettling. Feels so quick.

On Tuesday she got results from her biospy on her thyroid and missed my Uncle Don's service to meet with her doctor. They scheduled her for surgery a few days later. The next day, she had a physical exam, blood tests, etc done in pre-op. Then yesterday on Thanksgiving, we noticed her right leg was swollen. I measured it and it was a good solid extra inch thicker than her other leg. Was it a blood clot?

We didn't know. And there was no way, she could go through surgery with a blood clot, so when we arrived home last night, I took her to the emergency room.

We hung out and had fun together. Chatted about our day. We eavesdropped inbetween the closed curtains. So much commotion.

They kept saying it was a slow night.

My mom and I joked, "just wait til they finish their Thanksgiving Dinner... then they'll come in!" And d'ya know? They did!

They showed up in droves! The waiting room was full when we left there just before midnight!

As it turned out, she has arthritis in her knee. It's tough getting old, but we were all relieved it wasn't a blood clot.

Today she went in for her MRI.

Tonight I'm about to leave to eat taco salad at my sister's house. Chelsea is up from Irvine and she leaves to drive down i-5 in the morning.

It's been such a huge year of loss for me and my family.

I appreciate any of you who read this to send warm, positive, healing thoughts toward my mom during her last-minute scheduled surgery on Monday, 11:50 am, Pacific Time. I love her more than anything.

I'm taking the day off and will spending that day at the hospital with my sister and brother.

We've had too much loss this year. We are only focused on winning. Thank you for your warm thoughts and good well wishes.

You carry me.

Serving Burgers

Okay. So, I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that I misunderstood the fascinating author John Elder Robison being interviewed on the radio this morning. I believed him to say he grew up with Ass Burgers. Can you imagine? I LOVED that! Who can resist, tuning in and hearing that remarkable life story!?

Did he grow up in a family of cannibals? Were his parents burger chefs that enjoyed butt meat more than anything?

He said he didn't have many friends. He felt socially awkward and didn't know how to act around his peers and became more shy and withdrawn. He was not comfortable looking at someone in the eye when he talked. Instead, he turned to look away or look down at the ground.

I continued to listen to his story and my heart broke hearing his shame from eating those ass burgers during a time I grew up eating and (very much enjoying) rump roast ... which is still my most favorite meal today.

"Don't feel ashamed!!" I wanted to shout to the radio. "That could have been some really good ass burgers!"

Now I feel ashamed. As it turns out, he didn't suffer from ass burgers, but Asperger's.

I went online and google-searched his name to read more about his burger story -- only to discover what he was really talking about.

It's a syndrome that makes him feel lonely and isolated and withdrawn lacking in empathy toward others. On the other hand, it also makes him very visual and it gives him the ability to focus on something for hours and hours at a time. He also has a remarkable memory.

He talked of being 2-years-old visiting his grandmother in Georgia , sitting under a rocking chair and in his memory, he can still feel the cold concrete underneath him and hearing his grandmother say, "Little John Elder! Keep yer fingers and them toes away from those rockers, ya hear?" And he still remembers the feel of the sharp pebbles and the sand on her driveway under his feet and the smell of the red clay as if it were yesterday.

Isn't that incredible!? Well, it can be. That vivid recall can be good or bad depending on your memories.

I have never heard of Asperger's until today.

But I found it fascinating and I think I know some people during my life who has lived with "ass burgers" too.

I want to read his book one of these days soon. (Once I finish reading Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close and Schulz And Peanuts. It could take me awhile. Didja know it took me more than a year to read Fried Green Tomatoes? ). Don't cringe!

I'm embarrassed to admit I'm much better at reading PEOPLE magazine than I am of a novel. But I am working toward a goal of reading one book a year. (I just don't want to over-commit).

I tend to enjoy more active and interactive situations than sitting under a well-lighted lamp reading a book in silence by myself.

I don't know if that means I have Attention Deficit Disorder or Dyslexia, but I do know I certainly don't have Asperger's Syndrome.

Just thinking about that, made me hungry. And, I thought of what I would give, to eat a Rump Roast Dinner tonight.

And guess what? I did! I think it was a better cut of roast than the actual rump, but Kelly and Matt invited me over for a roast dinner tonight that Matt actually cooked up!! It was delicious. And it didn't cost me a cent. THANKS KELLY AND MATT!

Show and Tell

There are so many talented people in this world. Miranda is one of them. She lives in Austin and made this adorable quilt out of the various fabrics I designed.

Loss

My uncle Don died this morning. He was my dad's older brother.

I visited him last night. Before I could enter his private room in ER, I had to wash my hands, put on latex gloves and hospital gown tied in the back. He was sleeping in a medicated state. He looked more peaceful in his sleep than he did earlier this week when I visited him while in tremendous pain.

I stared into his sleeping face and could see my father in him. And his mother, too. When I wasn't looking at him, I would stare at the monitor that would sometimes remain flat-line for a moment or two before zig-zagging up and down and I wondered if he would die while we were there, holding his hands. I knew his life was nearing it's end.

I found it comforting that I could feel his warmth through the plastic in my gloves. His life still beating inside him.

I wondered if my dad was nearby in the spirit to welcome him in the afterlife. Surely, his wife Patt was there. She died ten years ago in the room next door in the very same emergency room. His son died earlier this year. Such a huge sorrowful loss in this family.

My mom and I and brother and sister and her boyfriend circled around his bed.

They talked to him. Stroked his forehead. They were so comfortable and natural with him. I just stood there feeling shy and clumsy and at a loss of words. I hoped he knew I was there. That perhaps my presence, though silent, could be felt more louder than any words I could utter.

It's been quite the year of loss.

He is the 14th person I know who has died this year already. Since the beginning of October, I know eight people who have died. Eight!

Another uncle of mine died on Halloween. I've lost two cousins in the Spring. My sister's boyfriend lost his father a few weeks ago. One of my mom's dear friends died the week before that. Too many lives lost. Death doesn't seem to care. It's just plucks people out at random.

Like the woman I knew who died unexpectantly this past summer. What was supposed to be a joyous occasion of giving birth to her first child, she had an unknown heart condition and died of a heart attack during labor. Her unborn son also died in the process. Leaving behind a grief-stricken husband and her family there in the birthing room. How does one deal with that weight of loss?

Her voice is still on my answering machine. I can't bare to listen to it, but I haven't been able to push delete yet, either.

It's just too final.

My heart goes out to the Wallace Family and I'm wishing Tracy an extra dose of love and grace.

Rainy Days

What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothin' is really wrong
Feelin' like I don't belong
Walkin' around
Some kind of lonely clown
Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down.
(The Carpenters 1971)

I wonder why that is with me. Why weather holds such a strong hold in how I feel about my day. It's raining today. And whenever that happens I tend to feel all lopsided and out of sorts.

My heart swells up and the gray skies makes me feel lonely for those I love. I feel vulnerable. I want to run to those I let down and beg them to forgive me and plead them to be my friend again. "I'll be better!" I promise to them in my heart.

I just feel so needy when it rains. And vulnerable. And alone. It's like when the rain flows from the skies, it is tears to me; my own.

I remember being a kid and I didn't mind the rain so much. I loved my shiny yellow rain jacket and putting the hood on over my head and the bottom patch covered my mouth. And do you remember the rain boots? Some called them Galoshes. Remember how hard it was to pull them off your shoes? I would hafta sit down and pull them off with both hands, grunting and squealing and heaving.

I loved the rain as a kid because that meant we played recess indoors.

It also meant that my mom would be there parked at the curb in front of our school, windshield wipers moving quickly in our Ford station wagon, waiting to pick us up. I'd run to her... feeling warm and loved and cared for.

I walked to school every day but my mom in-grilled it in my head that if it was raining, to wait for her. She'd be there. And she always was.

Nothing felt more comforting than that. We'd pass other kids walking down the sidewalk all hunched over trying to cover up from the rain while I sat in a warm car feeling dry and loved, listening to the motion of the windshield wipers scraping back and forth.

I took this photo a block from my house. Three young girls making the most of this rain. It made me stop and laugh and remember how rain doesn't affect the young. They make the most of it.

I will make a mind to do the same. That is my mission this year.
It's all up to me.

It's just a Paintin' Place

I have been busy.

I spent the past two weekends painting my house. From morning to dusk. And guess what? It always takes so much longer than we expect it will.

I can't tell you how many countless hours I have spent standing across the street and visualizing painting my house. I see it happening in my own mind's eye and from the beginning to the end, I can pretty much accomplish painting the exterior of my home in about three minutes. But. I forget the detail. The behind-the-scenes of the gutters. And the straight line precision of painting under the porch's ceiling. It always takes more time and always double the amount of time of what we think originally. (Double?!?! Maybe ... Quadruple!!)

I used a snake ladder for the most part. (unlike the photo of me where I stood on my $5 garage sale ladder). I would lean it against my home and test the ladder's stability twice before i made the venture upward.

I would dip my brush into the can and then climb my way upward to start painting. After about 15 seconds, my brush would dry up, and I would venture downward to dip my brush and try again. Climbing back up and then climbing down and then climbing up and then climbing down. Sometimes, I would hafta clip away plants away from my house so the ladder could stand there or so I could paint the trim. I was a gardener and a painter.

I feel good tonight. Sore. Yes.

But, after all this was done, I drove to my mom's house to feed her cat as she is away. Then I went to the grocery story to buy food for dinner. I mowed my front and back yard and washed dishes. And while cooking my dinner, I swept the floor. And then swiffer-mopped it. Added new sheets to my bed and donned a lovely bubble bath with candle light. I have been busy. But I also feel good.

It's a perfect Sunday night after all.

Halloween scares me

Halloween scares me.

I guess that's what it's supposed to do. I know many people who consider halloween their most favorite holiday.

But call me silly. I just have a huge problem with being in a large group of people all wearing masks and are unidentifiable. Watching a bloodied masked person carrying a gun or a machete around isn't my idea of fun or of feeling safe.

Even still, I wouldn't miss going over to my brother's house tonight for anything. It makes for such a fun holiday for even squeamish people like me! He lives in a historical neighborhood of stately homes. Thousands of people show up on that street every Halloween. Busses load up trick-or-treaters from out of town and take them to this street. Long lines form around the block waiting for a mini candy bar and sour tarts and tootsie rolls to fill their bags. The entire neighborhood seems to participate. Froom putting on horror theater shows in front lawns to transforming their homes into haunted house tours, it becomes a spectacular amusement park of sorts.

This is the same neighborhood I lived in as a child walking up and down the same steps of each porch with my brown paper bag every Halloween night. The large tree root still puckers up the sidewalk in front of the McDonald Mansion where I once tripped and fell; my bag of candy scattering in every direction into the dark. Now it is my friend's and brother's children that are walking up and down those same tree-lined streets.

I am wishing everyone a fun and safe Halloween. Drive carefully.

Picture of me and my best friend Terry at our home on Spring Street.

A Raincoat For a Rainy Day

It was just a year and a half ago when I quietly made a wish to design fabric. And as the story goes . . . just two days later . . . I received that magical call from a fabric company asking me to design the line of Dick and Jane fabric.

From time to time I get to see fun pieces made with the fabric. This raincoat was made by Susan up in the Northwest.

Sure Fire Perfect 5-Minute Egg

So Claudia sent me her recipe for the perfect 5-minute egg and I couldn't wait to try it out. Here they are sitting in a cool bowl of water before I ate them for breakfast.

Isn't it lovely?


Sure-Fire Perfect 5 Minute Egg

1) Take the egg out the refrigerator.

2) Put the egg under warm water so the egg is not so cold.

3) Start water to boil in pan

4) After water boils place the egg into the boiling water, gently.

5) Set timer for 5 minutes.

6) After 5 minutes remove the egg from the boiling water.

7) Run cold water over the egg for at least a minute.

8) Peel your perfect egg

The season of change

Last April, I planted a few trees in my yard.

They are looking so beautiful this time of year. I am a proud mama. They were just little kid trees when I planted them. And now look at them! Looking so dapper and mature in their brand new colors.

Fall is a season of change. So it isn't surprising that I am feeling the longing for change, too.

I want to live clutter-free.

I have this huge need to clean and purge out all those things I don't need or use or even want anymore. I want to be more of a minimalist. I want to walk into my home and feel as though I've walked into a vacation home. Free of distractions.

So tomorrow, while my car is off at the dealership getting spiffed up for it's 80,000 mile tune-up, I hope to tackle my garage. Perhaps I can hammer up shelves to place belongings up and off the cement floor. I want to assign a specific spot for the garden supplies and for tools and firewood and boxes filled with the things I'm not quite able to let go of. And who knows. Maybe this weekend, I can learn to let go of those things, too.

After all, the weather is changing. And I want that, too.

Sunday: that's my fun day

Isn't this a pretty place?

I'm beginning to feel the weather change here in the Sonoma Valley so I wanted to get out and spend it outside with friends.

And I did. We spent the day yesterday at Cornerstone. It's in a park setting with quite a few unique garden displays. From outdoor dressing rooms to a peewee golf course to a tomato garden to a maze of sticks... these gardens were designed to make one feel connected to earth and draw each person inward toward peace and tranquility.

I couldn't help but notice the gardens had been neglected for some time. They looked considerably different than the photos shown on their website. And no matter how hard I tried, I didn't feel they were lulling me into peace and tranquility.

And, infact, instead caused me to focus on the wear and tear and the neglect.

But! It was still fun. And it still brought a laugh or two (or a dozen) along the journey.

I am so enjoying my weekends spent with friends.

It was a bit of a cartoon week

I met another Illustration Friday artist. This time around it was Doodlestreet! What fun! She is an incredible cartoonist and is such an extremely warm and endearing person.

She and her wonderful friend, Annie were up in my neighborhood and dropped by my house for a visit.

I gave them a tour around my town including taking her to the home her mother lived in as a baby under a mile away! And how could I resist taking them by another cartoonist's studio?

Yup. A quick sneak peek of Charles Schulz's former studio where he drew his lovely comic strip Peanuts. After all, Doodlestreet is a cartoonist. The gate was open and pulling in to the entrance just outside the gate, I asked, "Ya wanna chance it?"

I reminded them of the last time I was there. A friend and I were locked inside the gate for hours in the dark and cold.

"Sure!" they said. Because, really. Who would have believed it would happen a second time around?

So we drove in, did a quick jaunt around the parking lot and driveway and as we turned to make our exit, I could not believe my eyes. The door had closed shut. Again! Locking us back inside! We were trapped! And hungry. And it was growing dark.

Fortunately, because of the many Snoopy statues that once adorned the streets of Santa Rosa were on view at the softball field by the Charles Schulz Museum, we managed to find our way down there to find a very kind security guard who left his post to rescue us.

Thank you Pam and Annie for our meet-up and for the fun time together. I am wishing you a safe trip home.

Snippets of Conversation

A conversation overheard in a restaurant bar by a table of older women:

Woman: "What is your name?"
Waitress: "Thindy."
Woman: "What an unusual name!"
Waitress: "My real name ith Thynthia."
Woman: "Oh. That's even more unusual."

(silence)

Woman: We would like to order a round of Lolitas please.
Watiress: Thank you. I'll be back with your order.

(she leaves and returns a few moments later)

Waitress: "I'm thorry. The bartender hathent heard of a Lolita. Can you tell me whath in it?"
Woman: "It's a popular mexican drink. It has tequila in it and salt around the rim. You can drink it blended or on the rocks."
Waitress: "Ohhhh, do you mean a Margarita?"
Woman: "Yes, that's it! I always get those two mexican names mixed up!"

My father and me

Growing up, I was always told I look just like my father.

And I did. And I do. As a baby, I certainly did.

And now, growing older, I recognize my eyes in him when I stare into the mirror. And my nose. Yesterday I was told I have his mouth.

Whenever he smiled and now when I smile, there is a pucker of skin around my upper left hand smile that we both share. Not surprising. After all, I am his daughter.

He died way too young. In another 12 or 13 years I will have outlived him.

I often wonder what he would think of his children now. My sister. My brother. And me.

Certainly proud of us all. Each of us are living out an element of one of his dreams. And. I believe even though he's no longer alive, he is aware of our accomplishments. I truly believe that.

I tried to pose myself in the same position of my father's photo. I think my ears are flatter. My mom prayed we'd have flat ears. I never heard of that. Mothers praying for their children to have flat ears. (Or maybe she prayed He would spare us from bony legs. In both cases, God granted her wish). I can't even carry a pencil behind it. I have tried. Once I crammed it behind there... and then gave it a few seconds and it automatically popped up and vaulted across the room like a rocket ship.

Well. Even though I may look like my father, I am not my father. I actually have the personality of my mother. But still, I am completely me. And today, I'm off to make the most of it. I will make choices that add enjoyment and goodness to my life the best way I know how.

Wishing you all a wonderful day, too.

Paddle and Ball

Remember the Paddle and Ball toy? Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! For the first ten years of my life, I think I must have received this toy at least once a year.

"Be careful, so you don't put anyone's eye out!" my mom would warn me.

I almost forgot about this fabric I designed. I drew four or five variations of the paddle and ball toy and I sprinkled them around to make a repeat pattern ... then, I put 'em in the oven at 350 degrees for 45 minutes and presto! Fabric!

Well. It didn't happen quite that way, but it sorta feels that way.

I feel so fortunate to have the wonderful opportunity to design fabric from time to time.