Time to unblock……

I’ve spent a whole lot of time feeling disconnected of late.

I think the oral surgery was far more than I expected. Usually I gauge the seriousness of a procedure by how long severe pain lasts, but this time I’ve been achy and tired for almost two weeks after the event. Dave reassures me by very kindly reminding me that I “had a lot of work done”.

And I can’t rule out the Coronavirus as a contributor to my current state of mind (or lack thereof). I’ve done my shopping and Dave is working from home. Our governor has taken actions designed to slow the spread of the disease. It is necessary, practical, and I’m glad that sensible, proactive steps have been taken. (I admit it plays into my hypochondriac tendencies. So far I’ve been convinced I’ve had the virus, IBS, and possibly the plague. Henny Penny has nothing on me.). I hope to continue to support our small businesses. We can still get take out from our favorite pub, and who knows – maybe even our neighborhood coffee shop. Well, we’ll play that one by ear.

One bright moment I almost forgot about in the past couple of days:

I decided last week, (pre closings), I needed to get out of the house. I signed up for a two and a half hour watercolor class. I’ve had some past experience and training with watercolors but it has been years since I’ve painted. I thought a couple of hours out and refresher class should lift my spirits.
My end result:

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Not only did I enjoy my time out, I had forgotten how much I enjoyed watercolors.

Sitting here today, I must admit I feel almost like I’ve woken up. I think I’ll spend my time working on my clay, or paints, and feeling lucky to have my family.

Thank you for reading.

Donuts and Scotch

I’ve come to understand that each and everyone of us has that ‘thing’ (or things). That ‘thing’ which is unique to each person: a nagging ailment/phobia/disorder – a chronic condition/burden/’thing’ that challenges us and accompanies (haunts) us throughout life. Where do these ‘things’ come from? Genetics? Predispositions? Misspent youth? A past life determination? Prelife choice? I kinda like that last option. During a ‘fit of fancy’, (as my Grandmother would have called it), I visualize waiting in line. A voice cries out “next!”. My turn. “Now”, says the disembodied voice, “for this upcoming lifetime pick three burdens from column A, four challenges from column B and two blessing from column C.” Looks like I choose periodontal disease.

Hummph. A frustratingly seemingly unending ‘thingy’. Once settled in, periodontal disease has no intention of leaving its dark cozy corners. I have regular cleanings/check ups with my periodontist and also my regular dentist. I get excited when the newest model of electric toothbrush hits the shelf. I have a stash of proxy brushes in the perfect width. I make a special trip to CVS for my preferred dental tape. I can’t remember all the surgeries and treatments I have had. I have planned nutritious soft food menus for post treatments to insure rapid recovery. In short, I have fought the good fight. In December, my periodontist said I needed more surgery. A gingival graft to rebuild my gum line.

After hearing that, (“it is not an emergency – no need to schedule right now”), I went home and sulked. That news made me – well – mad. I spend so much time, effort, and money and here I go again. Right? I ranted a bit. Sputtered. And then gave up. I had the surgery on Tuesday. It was a painful one. But I have decent pain killers. I have to admit, I’m still a bit, (or a lot), sulky. Oh I think I’ll heal fine, I’ll just be cranky about it. I know I need to come to a different point of view but not just yet. Right now I’m going to just eat soft foods and watch movies. But I’ve been thinking… donuts are soft, (must be gluten free for me. I think that was a column B option), and hey – a nice single malt scotch whiskey would lift my spirits – and cut down on my need for the pain killers. Now that’s a plan!

Thanks for stopping and reading!

A brief whine about the flu

I have it.

Sunday, after a trip to the library and supper at home, I settled in for a relaxing look thru my books and maybe a bit of television. Umm. Didn’t quite work out that way. To make an unpleasant story brief, a couple of hours into the evening, I decided I ought to spend the night on the bathroom floor.

Monday and Tuesday have past in a sort of haze. While no longer needing to camp on the bathroom floor, I’ve been wobbly and stuffy headed. Today I’m feeling comparatively spry – sitting upright for stretches of time and everything. I might get reckless and make myself scrambled eggs later. Much later.

Anyway, I must have subconsciously known this flu was about to hit: I unwittingly selected the perfect sick day reading from the library. I started with the always delightful Mma Ramotswe, The Colors of all the Cattle by Alexander McCall Smith on Monday. (I’m a bit behind in the series. There are two more books after this one.) Tuesday I moved onto Kerry Greenwood’s Murder in the Dark. I am a fan of the Miss Fisher mystery series on Acorn, but I have never read the books. I grabbed this one at random and spent yesterday wrapped in afghans while immersed in Australia in 1928. I will definitely check out more Miss Fisher adventures. Today, I think I’ll move on to Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine. I checked this one out because it is one of those books I thought I had read years ago but really never have.

I will leave you today with this old photo of Brandy. It is one of my favorites:

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Thanks for reading!

A full circle…decades in the making.

An epiphany.
Or perhaps more like a sudden realization.
Maybe just a stirring of memories.

Whatever. I’ll get on with it. But first a bit of my personal history, if you don’t mind……

I grew up surrounded with art supplies and books. On rainy days Mom would cover the dining room table (and the floor) with newspaper and bring out the watercolor paints and paper. PlayDough, my favorite, was permitted everywhere. The 64 Crayola crayon box – with built in sharpener – a hoarded treasure. I loved to draw, but at a certain age, (most likely early in grade school), I was told I “couldn’t draw”.

My love of books has stuck. (According to family lore, I had cloth books with me in my crib. It occurs to me perhaps I should have at least one book cremated with me. Bit morbid. Sorry.)

PlayDough morphed into polymer clay. My jewelry is on Etsy and I put up my tent at local shows. I also love making small animal totems, especially bunnies.

Drawing. All these years and never picked up pencil. Cause I couldn’t draw right? So now I’m taking this class I keep blathering about. I’ve had varied successes in class. I seemed determined to clench up and disappoint myself – knowing what I’ve brought to the table, pretty quickly done. So today I asked myself, “what inspired me to draw all those years ago?” Easy. Dr. Seuss. I still have my books:

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I have found my happy moment! What a good morning/afternoon!
Have a great day and thank you for reading!

Pleasantries

Pleasantries. I love that word.
You run into someone at the grocery and you exchange pleasantries.
You meet an acquaintance for coffee – pleasantries.
A friend for lunch? First come the pleasantries.
The last couple of days, I have been fighting a nasty cold. I have avoided the news, the bills, the house cleaning, and instead focused on taking vitamins and resting (and reading). In short – living the pleasantries.
My head cold adverted, I’m up and functioning. No more pleasantries.
Drat.
I had high hopes for today. My WW purple would have kicked in showing a lovely loss. I would have finished my sketch from last night, (we started charcoal. Which I loved), over a very sensible breakfast. Then yoga, followed by shoe shopping. A short break for an espresso then blogging and clay. Wonderful. In short, the pleasantries tinted version of life.
The truth – –
Had nightmares. The dogs woke me up far too early for an emergency bathroom trip. Recycling didn’t pick up today. Dragged the full bin back into the garage. Realized I left my charcoal pencils in the classroom last night. Added too much black to my turquoise clay and created a sickly mud. The news…cant even go there. The icing on my cake? A text from my sister requiring a specific time to receive her phone call. I’d rather study current affairs.
Now, sitting at my kitchen table with Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries on TV, I am reminiscing about the pleasantries.
Well.
It’s still earlyish. Come what may. Thanks for reading. Today’s photo, bold reds and all:

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https://www.etsy.com/listing/736696186/very-bold-and-beautiful-red-and-burgundy?ref=shop_home_active_23&frs=1