I wanted to vote for Obama. I wanted to support the election of an African-American. In the end I did not help it happen, but I am glad we are where we are… I am glad for what has happened because of what it means.

The “tsunami” we are facing will be historical too. With so many democrats taking office we are in for a change… A big change. But I believe it will draw out a strength in Christians that has been sleeping for far too long. Prayer will be our saving grace, as it always should have been. I embrace this change, no matter what it brings. I celebrate with those of color who feel honored to call this day theirs. I believe God has put the man in office that He believes needs to be there. I am glad to live in this country for all the good it does stand for… no matter how hard it is to see at times…

ps> i know i lack eloquence, intellegence, and most of the facts… but this is the best i can do to share my opinion on a night where I can honestly tell my grandkids a story of being a part of history… significant history.

Maybe it was getting to the pool too late to meet friends I so desperately need to spend time with… Maybe it was taking three hungry kids to the supermarket at 6:30pm to figure out dinner… Maybe it was the 5 minute bathroom break in the sweltering back room at SuperFresh… Maybe it was the call that came 5 minutes too late to say the power was out at home… Maybe it was the crashing of a eco-light bulb filled with some sort of mercury gas that made us evacuate the house… Maybe it was the lack of wait staff at TGIFridays… Maybe it was the bad food we ended up eating at Bennigan’s at 9pm… Maybe it’s the impending long summer… Maybe it’s my stupid asthma and the uncontrollable dust in my house… Maybe it is just me…

But as far as I can tell today just sucked.

We were given a turtle the other day by my in-laws. The kids and I decided to make a pond for it in our creek. We set to work building a rock wall around a deep area. The kids got dirty and worked hard… So did I for that matter. When we finally put the turtle in the water it swam around in our creation with curiosity and freedom. My daughter squealed in delight as she watched the little guy explore his new home (albeit temporary home–there was no way he was going to be in there when we came back the next day).

Moments with my kids are such a treasure. For me, building a dam in the creek and imagining a new little world for things smaller than I is a matter-of-fact idea. But for them it was like a whole new world opened up. My oldest said, “this is like my dream coming true.” When asked why he said that ever since we moved to this house all he wanted to do was build a place like this… a special place for fishing, swimming, and playing in. Of course I was thinking “well, why didn’t you just do it before?” But what occurred to me was that sometimes imagination needs a role model. Sometimes a simple plan just needs to be seen and realized in order for other ideas to take off.

Water and rocks are such inspiring materials to work with. The sounds, the feel, the endless possibilities. I love creeks, always have. Ever since my brother, Eric, and I would follow the drainage ditch in our backyard through the neighborhood as kids, I have loved them. Ever since I can remember I have been drawn to the amazing virtues of water. From pools, to lakes, to beaches, to rain run-offs, to good puddles, water has always beckoned me into it’s flowing, mesmerizing properties.

While continually dropping in quarters into the industrial (life-saving, mind you) vacuum I started to realize that the problem was deeper than I had originally assumed. Any space between the back of the front seats and the trunk door was fair game for total and complete despair. Not only were the crumbs glued in places only a Q-tip could forge out, but, there under the very back seat, was a dried up riverbed of orange juice lining the edge of one side of the carpet and crusting down between there and the “tire wall” (or whatever you call that inner part of the car that goes over the tire). Of course, I only saw this by lifting up the “protective” floor mat. Now, I know that a good mom would have throughly cleaned up that mess within a reasonable amount of time… But reason is not one of my strong suits. Moving on… I followed the bank of that canyon up it’s steep slope by way of a lone dried up waterfall to the cup holder that once held the doomed orange juice. Nasty. Upon further investigation I realized that none of the juice landed in the holder. It must have been de-lidded and left to ride along with us in the wonder-van… juice sloshing where it may. I barely remember when the river occurred, but I have a faded memory of someone saying “oops… sorry mom, I didn’t mean to. QUICK give me a napkin!!”

Then I noticed the other cup holders to have similar dried up streams of various misdirected beverages… The droplets frozen in time as they clung for life opposite their friend “Mr. OJ” on the car’s other “tire wall.” To top it off there were islands of black gunk stuck to the seat. It was black simply because it had been sat on enough to have covered every bit of stickiness with lint. Sigh.

So, here is how I rectified the situation. Being the HUGE fan of Kirkland (aka Costco) wipes, I went inside, grabbed the nearest pouch of them and headed into the war zone. This goo had no holds on me, I tell you. I went to work with this single pouch (88 count minus a few bunches used for the original purpose of “baby wiping”). These wipes rock all other wipes. I have been using them for about 7 years and never have I been disappointed. They cleaned up all the dried waterfalls, every finger mark and booger smear, all kids of unrecognizable sticky spots, the islands of black gunk, AND did a great job on the dashboard as well! I praise the maker of this handy invention! Kirkland wipes will forever have my allegiance! Well, as long as I need a mini-van that is.

Don’t get me wrong, he never really lost it in some berserk, foul-mouthed, loose-handed way. But with the sigh came the self-loathing. The feelings of not being good enough and not being able to ever rectify your mistake. My siblings and I all know that my dad loves us very much, but those years of the sighs have deep roots of dissension and disagreeable feelings.

So, I have this knowledge now. I understand that MY breathing is one of the things “askew” in my system. I am working on it. When the unconscious urge to sigh begins I try to make myself take a few deep breaths and feel the air exit slowly, not loudly, and repeat it.

Retraining something that you do automatically wrong is difficult… But quite a learning experience.

Here is a song that I thank Ingrid Michaelson for… “Keep Breathing” Find it here in the little music box on the right side… enjoy!

http://www.myspace.com/ingridmichaelson

I know that stress and anxiety are a part of life. But something is askew. Every time I was falling asleep tonight I would wake up taking a deep breath and feeling tingly in my limbs (a sign of not enough oxygen, I think. Or just adrenaline that wont shut up). So I am stuck being awake at the wee hours with no idea how to go to sleep. I drank herbal tea with valerian (a natural flower extract used to relax). I took a melatonin (a natural sleep aide). Still nothing. Not sure what to do. I have three kids who are going to want to get going in the morning and I will probably be in a state of sleepy cortisol rush. I dread waking up.

Since last October I have been told various things about my health: recovering from mono that I didn’t know I had; anxiety disorder; allergy issues; asthma… All of those things can go along with a weakened immune system and adrenal issues. And recently one of my kids was diagnosed with pneumonia, maybe I have that now. Whatever it is I do not like it.

What happened to the old me that was able to live a fairly normal life? Ugh.

I used think I was strong and fearless. I felt that I could do anything challenging, and end with my head held high. I actually filled out an application for the reality show “Survivor” back when I was a new mom. I figured having given birth au-naturel, I could handle anything. But in these last few months I have come to see how weak I really am.

I am vulnerable. Like a tender shoot or a new spring leaf cascading from a bloom that is just barely peaking out at the sun. Panic comes welling up in me at any given time of the day and threatens to shut off the very breathe that keeps me going.

But there is good news. I had a break-through. A realization that I am terrified of death. More importantly the death of loved ones I have not yet reconciled myself to.

Many times a day I am gripped with fear that I will stop breathing all together. That the tightness in my throat will win and that the gripping, gnawing fear surrounding my heart will eventually grasp so tight that it will make my heart explode. That is how I define my panic. I have only experienced a full blown panic attack twice. One that catastrophically set me on a downward drop off a tall cliff… And I have been climbing up ever since. The other, just occurred the other night. And before it could spin completely out of control I got help from a dear friend who talked me back to reality. Patiently waiting and encouraging me as I breathed in and out into a brown paper bag.

Humbling, very humbling. And yet I meet people all the time who have experienced this as well. So, I guess misery really does love company. But all in all I know there is a higher good to come of all this. There is a plan taking shape… A journey being walked… And in the end I WILL be a survivor…

Renior was an up and coming artist at a time of ground-breaking new ideas. As one of the first impressionists, he pushed to make painting go to a new level. The little bit of information I knew about him before I went to this exhibit was only that he was an impressionist and that his painting style was unique and started a new realm in the world of art.

A few interesting things stayed with me from that day. The label impressionists gave to their painting style was “en plein air” meaning “to paint in the open air.” He and fellow impressionists painted from a point of view that took the viewer in to a moment in time depicting a scene that had happened while portraying an idea of movement in the painting. To see this first hand was breath-taking. I was only inches away from the repetitive strokes and the genius behind them. It was so inspiring. I have wanted to get out my oil paints, for the first time mind you, and try to replicate what I saw. Of course, it never happened and it has been a week. I think that may be why life is hard for me at times. It would be nice to be one of those people who creates at any whim and lives for the moment, but that isn’t a mother’s life, nor a Christian’s, and in the end it would be empty I suppose… but still it would be nice to grab the moment when the inspiration hits… To cease the day and bring forth amazing beauty. Then again maybe at this point in my life, I would most likely be dissatisfied with the outcome and my lack of talent. But this too is just a season…

Just one of the paintings I saw…

What amazes me is the tiny little brush strokes that make up the light and shadows and even the objects you see.

At 33, I am starting to hit a mid-life crisis. I am unhappy with my current employment (motherhood and housekeeping), disinterested in things that used to bring me joy, and more often than not, filled with an electrical charge that surges through me making me want to run off and spend my waking hours only in peace… creating… only doing things for me… only taking care of me… or only drinking in a spiritual peace only found when truly resting in God.

I am selfish. I am self-centered and self-consumed. I see myself in a new mirror and wonder how I ended up looking so worn and beaten down. I find myself full of stress and unable to relax. I freak out at my kids for being kids (running in the house, making messes, fighting, asking unending questions). I freak out at my husband for what ever. I am worn out. It doesn’t help that I am probably still recovering from the mono. Nor, does it help that I have a newly diagnosed anxiety disorder that keeps me from being able to function normally in a stressful situation. I also can’t help feeling guilty all the time for not doing anything better.

But I do have good days… It’s just that today is not one of them.

I am not going to bother getting into the details of a day like today. The ups, the downs, the lows, the lack of highs. Basically, the kids are in bed and all I can do is sit, breathe, write, and cry. The person I am today is not who I wanted to be.

I used to dream of who I would be at the age I am now. I wanted to be joyful about parenting, happy about serving my family, kind and giving to friends. Instead, I feel achy and nervous and impatient and tired. I got very little sleep last night which doesn’t help. But the lack of sleep turned me into a mess.

I know that God gives us grace when things are hard, but today I have realized that I am not under that grace because my mind is so fixed on me.

I have found I have two passions: giving of myself to strangers and making them feel loved and accepted; and creating things that resemble some part of me. Is that bad? Selfish?

I know I am not in a strong closeness to God right now. In fact, I pretty much feel like He is a sidenote. And I know that is not a good place to be for raising a family. But I seem to forget about a lot of things these days… And not to belittle God, but I forget He is with me all the time.

I don’t know what I am getting at. Just that I need a lot of prayer. Prayer to the Living and True God for a re-creation of me into who I am meant to be. So, I know I write this mainly for me, but if anyone reads this and feels led to let me know they have shot up a few words for me to Father above, I really would appreciate knowing it… : )

By the way, newest favorite music: Ingrid Michealson… check her out at www.ingridmichaelson.com

I am part of a moms group called MOPS (Mother of Preschoolers) at a nearby church. I have met other moms like me with loads of crazy stories and tons of empathy. One friend in particular who was part of my little circle there was diagnosed with breast cancer just this past April. We knew each other as acquaintances mostly, but then we were in a small book study group together last spring and I had the chance to get to know her better. She was funny and intense and very good hearted. We all enjoyed her company and her unforgettable laughter.

I remember the day she got that dreaded call. She happened to be at MOPS when her doctors office called with the news of her biopsy. Her phone rang, she left the meeting and went into the lobby. I didn’t take much notice of what was going until I was near the lobby getting my kids coats on and half observing the small group of women starting to surround her. She was speaking with lots of hand motions as she always did, but her expression was that of fear and complete dumfounded-ness. A looked of being stunned and then overcome with sadness. After my kids were dressed and ready to head out, I went through the lobby doors with my eyes on her wondering what was happening. I went over to her and she looked at me with sadness in her eyes. I simply asked her what happened and she told me flat out “my doctor’s office just called… I have breast cancer.” I was stunned. I teared up and gave her a hug and said how sorry I was. I told her I would be praying for her. With kids tugging on my pants, reminding me that they were still there and a part of the moment, I said my good byes and left for the car. I had no idea how quickly her illness would take over. So many emails went out with info on her diagnoses, her progress, her setbacks. She remained hopeful, but the bad news kept coming. I saw her once in October. She looked well, but fought hard to keep her tears at bay. The cancer eventually masticised into her bones… and her organs were then taken over as well.

Karen Esposito passed away December 22 after fighting an abrupt battle with cancer. It is heartbreaking to know how fragile this life is… How quickly we have to say good-bye. How sad it is when the good-byes are never said.
Please pray for her husband and her two young daughters (one who asks where her mommy has gone and one so young she may only remember her by photos) they have a difficult journey ahead and need our prayers.

Below is the obituary from Delaware Online that tells a little of her story…

KAREN ESPOSITO

Karen Louise Kuch
Esposito
Age 35, of Lincoln University, PA, formerly of Lansdale, passed away on Saturday, December 22, 2007 at the Heartland Hospice House, Pike Creek, DE after a courageous battle with breast cancer.
She was the devoted wife of Anthony V. Esposito. Born in Lansdale, she was the loving daughter of Leonard G. and Ruth S. Kuch, III of Lansdale. Karen graduated from North Penn High School, Lansdale in 1990 where she was a member of the North Penn Marching Knights. She graduated from Muhlenberg College, Allentown with a BA in Psychology and Religion. She was a member of the Oxford Presbyterian Church and MOPS of Cornerstone Presbyterian Church in New London. Most recently she was a stay at home mom, but previously had been employed with Ware Presbyterian Village, where she served as an Activities Coordinator.
She will missed by her husband; parents; 2 daughters, Sarah and Molly; a brother, Thomas Kuch and his wife, Heather of Harleysville; paternal grandmother, Joan Kuch of Elizabethtown; nephews Gavin and Landon Kuch; parents-in-law, Vince and Gail Esposito; sisters-in-law, Christine Huston and her husband Jeff and Kim Esposito; brother in law Mark Esposito.
Funeral services will be held at 11 am, on Thursday, December 27, at the Oxford Presbyterian Church, 6 Pine St. Oxford, where friends may call after 9 am. Interment will be announced.
In lieu of flowers, contributions in Karen’s memory may be made to Susan G. Komen For the Cure, 5005 LBJ Fwy, Suite 250, Dallas, TX 75244.
Online condolences may be
made at
www.elcollinsfuneralhome.com
Funeral arrangements are
being handled by the
EDWARD L. COLLINS
FUNERAL HOME, Inc.
Oxford, PA
610-932-9584

[published 12/26/2007]

These are dark times in some ways. In others, they are like every day before the incident. But I am left with this new me. A scared me. A me that is afraid to move forward. To see others, to be around them. Afraid to feel tired and overwhelmed.

I am tired. Tired of fighting with this new found anxiety. Tired of fighting this new pain. Where? Why? I just don’t understand… any of it. I just want my life back. Somehow I have crashed. I ran off a cliff and the climb back up looks perilous and impossibly steep. How did I get down here? What happened to my body? I was fine. I was healthy… happy… even/balanced. Now I am unpredictable, unstable, unsure, un-me…

Where did I go…

Being little, being sweet
makes life so fun and such a treat!
I like little things that are little like me
They can hide, they can glide, and even fill up with tea!
Today I will travel to be with a friend
To find my best treasure you must read to the end.

I have a small RED purse that holds little things
Like a car, and ball, and a dolly with wings!
In the pages beyond, my toys are all hiding
Over, or under, or maybe they’re sliding!

On this page an ORANGE ball sits in its spot
If it stays there too long it might get too hot!
It may be up, it may be down
Wherever it is, there’s also a crown.
(The ball is on a window sill)

I like to get washed up with bubbles and foam
The toy in this room is YELLOW with no feet to roam.
It floats and it squeaks and keeps company
With the sink and the tub and the towels all three!
(a little bath ducky)

GREEN is the color of trees and of grass
Or on this toy that can be pushed really fast.
It has wheels and lights and goes “voomin” around
It likes to hide in little places all over the ground.
(a green matchbox car)

Dreaming and resting and waking with the sun
I play in my room with my dolls to have fun.
Tea is a pleasure when sipped with company
My BLUE teacup is a favorite, but where can it be?
(lying on the floor with dolls and tea set)

Out in the yard the flowers all grow
From the seeds that Grandma helped me to sow.
PURPLE is her favorite, can you find the bunch?
I want to bring some for her table at lunch.

Well we’ve packed my pouch full of things oh so little
It’s off to Grandma’s for a treat with a treat in the middle!
It’s BROWN and its gooey and may have a crunch.
She only lets me eat it right after my lunch!
(picture of purse with items floating around it)

Can you find my treasure stacked up on the plate?
It smells so good I can hardly even wait!
Milk is it’s partner, they go as a pair
But best of all…
CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES
are my favorite little thing to share!
(kitchen scene with plate of cookies on the table)

For today, though, I concentrate only on autumn. The colors, the smells, the sunlight, the air, and the idea that change is happening.

The sun light carries warmth, but shines colder too. Its golden rays gleaming stronger and darker all at the same time. Winds blow the leaves from their roots raining them down in their fragile state. Fall leaves remind me of hope. Their vibrance, their smell, and their beauty intwined in this time. They bring hope of new birth after a long hibernation and recreation. A hope that fresh new life will come… in the right season.

So, I’m stuck battling some stupid sickness that I really have no idea how I got. In the stereotypical fashion in which this sickness is passed around all I have to say is: I only kiss one guy, my hubby. And share no one’s food or beverages for this very reason.

They thought it was my thyroid… Still might be. But one of the “counts” for the mono test came back in the 2000″s. It is normally in the 100′s. UGGG.

My adrenal glands are shot sending me into panic attacks every so often. My heart beats like it is going to pop right out of me. Thank goodness for modern meds!

I get hot and then cold. I laugh and then cry. I am a mess…

So much for the children’s book. Oh well…

I find peace in knowing there is a Greater Power, a loving God, who holds all this in His hands and is allowing me to remain in hope. Without Him, who knows how depressed I would get!

Somehow adding just one thing to my life that has required deadlines seems to have catapulted me in to a mess. I had a sort of panic attack the day before my second class. It was accompanied with chest pains and shortened breathing. It could have been from the “She-ra” stunt I pulled down at the creek with my kids two days earlier when I lifted a rather cumbersome rock for them to look under and then use as a steady standing place. Not the smartest move for a little weakling like me. I had a fever that night and fell asleep by 9pm.

Moving on… I just want to be so good at what I do, yet I feel like no matter what I accomplish I miss that mark of good workmanship. I got the assignment done (which was to rough out a storyboard of what your story will be about with illustrations) and felt like it was mediocre at best. I was so worried about how I was going to get the work in the coming weeks done and felt that I had truly gotten in over my head. I went to the class and, to my relief, was the only one who did the assignment correctly and finished it. Granted there are only four people in the class, but one didn’t even show up. This past week was our third class. Turns out someone else dropped out and wouldn’t be back. The class went alright. But this class is really tough because I feel like we are left to deveop our skills on our own and she is there just smooth them out. I am a bit frustrated… But at the same time I am glad I have someting that is all about me. I know that sounds really selfish, but after 7 years of child rearing (or what ever you want to call whatever I have done to them) I am ready to begin sharpening my art skills and doing something with them.

So this class has serious assignments due each week and I am dumbfounded at how I will get everything done! I’ve had to conclude that I will get what I want out of the class and not get so hung up on perfecting a book ready for publication in record time. I mean there is no way I can accomplish my best work with only three hours a week (and that is the ideal, not to mention only available at night when I am dead tired) to pull together a full color children’s book. Although, it must be said, my hubby is so supportive and he gave me most of this past Wednesday afternoon to get some of the work done. Granted he was taking the kids shopping for my birthday and would have gone out no matter what I had going on. But having a few hours in the middle of the day was like life had been breathed into my dry bones! It was awesome.

So, that is little of what is going on with me. I had a kid throwing up on and off last night, lots of rinsing and washing in the wee hours, and i got maybe three hours of sleep. So, I am off to watch The Office on our TiVo and drink something to cool the stinging in my sore throat… groan.

But I turn 33 on Oct 6, tomorrow! Crazy… But it will be good. I am hoping for a simple and peaceful birthday. My second son, Aiden will be 5 on Oct 8. He is so excited. I love watching preschoolers go nuts about things like that. We are taking him to the Melting Pot, it is our “5 is old enough for the good places” tradition. He really can’t wait… He even gets a free chocolate bar (excellent chocolate bar, by the way) and a polaroid of the event. It should be really fun!

First, we had no “Fluff”, so I cut big marshmallows in two and after applying the “all natural, pure” peanut butter to the wrap I laid the marshmallows across one side and rolled it up. It looked good, so I made one for me too. But as I tried to chew the unsweetened peanut butter I realized my mouth was totally not salivating and I felt paranoid that I might choke. I concluded that I needed to add something sweet, so I chose jelly. Once I took the second bite and felt my mouth reacting the correct way, I then un-peeled my son’s wrap and did the same to it. I stuck it in the lunch box and put it in the fridge for the next day.

My son checked his lunch box before we left and approved of its contents. (Not that he would have any other choice if he didn’t approve.) After school I asked my son how things went. Everything was good except for lunch. He calmly told me to never give him that sandwich again. I asked why and he just said because he didn’t like it and didn’t give any other details.

We got home and picked up my husband and proceeded to the “shop” where our other car’s oil had been changed. My husband then proceeded to drill our son with the same questions I had for him. But when he got to the lunch question things went very differently than when I addressed him. Ethan said “horrible.”

“Oh, geez. What didn’t he tell me?” I thought. The poor kid then went in to the details of how his class mates said, “What is THAT? What IS that?” To which he replied that it was a Fluffernutter wrap. This only sparked more controversy beacause they then said, “But it has jelly!?” They just looked at him weird and asked him if he was REALLY going to eat it. Being that he knows to eat the “healthy” items in his lunch before the treats he reluctantly began to eat the concoction. (One detail I left out was that I was pretty tired when I got around to inventing that wrap and when I added the jelly unevenly I didn’t really process the affect it might have in the long run.) He continued to tell us that it was really messy and that the jelly kept dripping out the bottom making his hands really sticky, especially since he had to keep using them to wipe up the jelly that had fallen on his pants (right on the crotch area, mind you).

My husband then looked at me and said, “What were you thinking? Second graders don’t want wraps. They don’t even know what they are!”

I sighed and thought of all kinds of reasons why I thought it was fine, minus the drippy jelly. I remembered the daydream I had while making it. The one where everyone at his table says that I am the coolest mom and how they wish their mom made them new kinds of sandwiches. And then my son smiles and joyfully eats his cool wrap while he and friends laugh about silly things and act like carefree school kids.

I am snapped back into reality by my husband voicing his revelation about the situation. He said, “Oh my goodness. You are now THAT mom. The one who sends their kids to school with the funky healthy lunch.” I sat frozen. How could I have been so thoughtless as to the repercussions of such an invention? I looked back into the tear-filled eyes of my second grader (who, incidentally, was uncomfortably sandwiched between two car seats and hardly able to move) and apologized whole heartedly. He said he didn’t forgive me. Understandably so. After groveling for a few minutes he caved in with forgiveness. I vowed to never send him to school with an abnormal sandwich again.

The next day I told him if I ever did anything like that again he could use the excuse “My mom is an artist. She just likes inventing new things,” he quickly said “Mom?! NO! You promised.”

Oh well, there goes that artistic outlet…

So many times in the days past since my trip I find myself daydreaming about the air and light in that little town. I melt away in the thoughts of having that uninterrupted time to create peacefully. No serious “kids are calling, dinner is burning, the laundry is dinging” time pressure… just time to be. Time to see what might happen. There isn’t a single thing I regret from my trip. I’m not forlorn that I didn’t see more places. Nor sad that I got a few stitches (a war wound is always an interesting topic of conversation). In fact, as I look at my hands moving to recreate the moment when I struck the razor against my thumb I am filled with the realization that those are the hands that create and make new life out of a still page (of course not always).

I really am proud of the work I accomplished and eagerly await its arrival here at home. I have already been musing about how I can set up shop here melting wax, painting, and fusing with heat.

The paintings will arrive soon. Here are some parting shots of the Monterey/Pebble Beach area. Enjoy…

Pictures of the coast…

These little squirrels will eat from your hand. If I can figure it out, I will post the little movie I have of the fattest squirrel I have ever seen.

The sign at Pebble Beach Club (playland for the rich and famous).

This hole at Pebble Beach Golf Course is literally feet from the water. And, from what I could tell, it requires hitting the ball clear over the road named “17 mile Drive.”

But I am coming away with new concepts in art. New friendships as well. And an experience that will last a life time. Unfortuately I have no pictures of my art since it is all packed in a box and being shipped home. But once they are available I will post them. To my new friends from Artista, thanks for a great experience!

Here are shots of the coast along “17 mile Drive” in Pebble Beach.

more to come later…

I spent a lot of today learning about the ago old process of en caustic painting. It is actually the oldest known form of painting after cave paintings. It started in Rome and moved into Egypt. Difficult medium to work in because it dries so fast. But I get to use a propane blow torch thing to heat the layers ad fuse them together. Very fun! It is actually like pottery glaze when you heat it with the torch you can control how the wax flows over the a flat wooden panel.

The town of Carmel is quaint with lots of galleries, shops, and little nook kind of restaurants. The houses are very neat. Some have a french flare, others an English cottage style, and some in Japanese styles. It has been a busy day. I am not adjusting to the time very well and get up at 4 or 5am! But maybe I will sleep well when I get back.

I will try to post some pictures of the works I’ve done. Only two small paintings so far, but tomorrow should be busier. Painting from 9am-12pm. Get lunch. Paint from 1:30pm-4pm. Then I go get a massage! Then I go to yoga. Then I eat dinner and paint again until midnight.

Thursday is painting from 9am until we wrap our stuff to ship home around 4pm.

So, I will post when I can or set up pictures when I get back…

So, what do you make of life when you go to tuck your kid into bed and he says, “Are you still grumpy? Because I don’t like it when you use your mean mommy powers on us.”

Oh, well, super powers are still super powers whether their good or bad, so that counts for something, right?

It was a small painting I had done. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I held one in my hand just trying to grasp what was happening. All of a sudden inside of my body I felt this surge of unlimited possibilities. Like an amazing door of opportunity had just opened up to me. My work, my art, could be sent to anyone, anywhere. It had potential to be turned into anything printable. I could put my art on anything! Of course, I always knew this was possible, I am not an idiot. But it just seemed improbable. I just always thought that to get to that point I better be really (and I mean “Wow. You make it look so easy and flawless” kind of really) good at what I do. But even with it’s flaws, and there are quite a few, the picture really looked nice. I am not trying to brag at all. I feel like the part of me that is able to do this creative stuff is a gift and I don’t take it for granted.

I really want to share this painting with all of you! Now I don’t want to do myself the disservice of putting a lame photo of it (like the the heart-ripped envelope) on the blog. So, I am going to let any of you out there see it in person for yourself. I am offering to send a postcard out to anyone who wants one. If your interested in seeing my very first printed piece of art that will inevitably catapult me into new unlimited possibilities please send me your address through the “contact” button on the left.

Oh, and you can all look forward to a new version of my site in the near future… Blessings to you, and thanks for stopping by!

I will have to post them once they are back in my hands…

[Just a side note---I hate junk mail, by the way. I mean, how many poor trees do they chop down to make all that stuff that fills your mail box every stinkin' day: catalogs, grocery store circulars, those stupid things with Chuck E. Cheese coupons, credit card pre-approvals,or just whatever! When we were in California last summer I was amazed at all the logging trucks hauling tree trunks around. It was actually really sad. But I digress...]

So here is the serendipity of that little note: I ripped through the envelope eagerly to see what the contents held inside. Happy with the invite I set the letter and stack aside in my bag and drove on to the next thing for the day.

After getting home and dumping the mail out, I later went back to the pile to retrieve the note to stick it on my organizational apparatus (i.e. the fridge) and low and behold look at what I stumbled upon…

Somehow I managed to accidentally tear the envelope in a perfect “half heart” to create a a full heart when pulled apart. WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF THAT?! It gave me chills when I saw it lying on the counter… Weird.

This past week has been one of the heaviest emotional weeks I’ve had in quite a while. I’ve had a family member admitted to a hospital, another admitting to a past that I never knew, and one who is getting married at the end of this week. I’ve had highs, lows, and in betweens. When I grasp the gravity of it all emerging at around the same time I am frozen in heaviness. I sigh, as I often do, with almost a despairing attitude. Yet, the people who are directly affected by the things mentioned seem to be moving on with hope. With strength. With trust that all things left in God’s hands can be made beautiful. So, I too must hold on to that. Like a shell rolling in the calm waters of a gentle surf, I will let myself be swept along. That seems like a peaceful image doesn’t it?

Anyway, I got the one painting done of a butterfly. Here is a rough image.

But I don’t really like it anymore. So, I need to take the time to make the one that is really on my mind. Hopefully, it will come to me and be everything I want it to be.

Oh, and thanks to you who take the time to read this. Your comments are always so nice to get, no matter what they say…

One more thing, there are no spring shows in the works. Need to fix that “showings” link…

Okay, time isn’t the real issue… Anyone know where I can buy some organizational skills? Because I KNOW I could use that!

But I am making a point to re-integrate myself into God’s perspective. I am thankful for grace everyday. I am thankful for mercy. And I am thankful that a God of unfailing love will never change, even if I seem to go through a metamorphosis from time to time.

Remember PTL? Jim Bakker and Tami Fay? Well, their son, Jay, has started an alternative church called REVOLUTION. It’s goal is to share the unconditional love God has for everyone. I heard about it through Jay’s show called “One Punk Under God” which airs on the Sundance channel. Check it out.