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Amanda Gorman / The Hill We Climb

And just like that, it is July.  

The last several weeks since my previous post have been full on ...full. 

A few deaths, a few birthdays, a first international trip for my son, workplace goings on for him, me, and my daughter; in short, life. 

All that and then some, plus, well, you know, the dumpster fire that is this country. 

I am unable to report that I've worked on (or better yet, finished) the story of Janice*. 

I am unable to report any measurable improvement in Spanish.   

I am unable to report sketching consistency. 

On the flipside, I can report that I am still chug, chug, chugging along and still trying to tame my wild and woolly salt-and-pepper mane. 

Take gentle care, gentle folks.  

*Janice has been renamed Opal.  

And away we go.                                                           

Thoughts

*Photographs and memories 

Christmas cards you sent to me 

All that I have are these 

To remember you . . . 

May is my mother's birthday month.  Before my mother's death, the first part of May was always full of preparing Mother's Day celebrations and, of course, the impending birthday celebrations.  

Since then, the month is flooded with memories of times gone by.  

This year has had that same dynamic with one exception.  This year, I can't shake the sense of longing for the relationship I wish had developed between my father and me.   

He and I weren't close. We had made peace before his death.  

And since then, I've been able to... compartmentalize the mixed emotions.  

Or, so I thought. 

It feels weird to be weighed with memories of his presence (or lack thereof) while remembering my mom in the shadow of her 85th birthday. 

Photographs and memories...   

This song is about the longing for a loved one, a romantic partner.  It has always hit me differently, these last few weeks, more than ever.  

Photographs and memories 

Christmas cards you sent to me 

All that I have are these 

To remember you . . . 

Take very gentle care,  

*songwriter: Jim Croce

Happy Birthday

A cousin recently celebrated her 70th birthday.  Her three daughters hosted a grand party, with immediate family, extended family, and friends, from near and far were in attendance, lending to the festive vibe.    

There were games, food, music, dance, and lots of laughs.  

A joy-filled event.  

Love in action! 

A Story, Not (Yet)

 

Toni Morrison: Song of Solomon* 

Hello, 

I've been working on a story for the last few weeks, intending to craft it with tremendous care.  However, I seem unable to get out of the starting gate.  My mind wanders, my heart pounds, and my legs...let's not talk about the aches in my legs.  

Physical pain, mental and emotional anguish, I am in short, stuck.  Or rather, I feel askew. 

The story is about a woman who is on the brink of change.  She is excited, yet afraid; undecided about how or even IF to lean into the circumstances.  

My own lopsidedness is likely one reason I can't give voice to any definitive choice or action for Janice.  

Rest assured, I will work through my physical pain, find sustainable solutions for the anguish, and discover the crux of Janice's tale.  

In the meantime, let us have sketches; old and new.

Kindly, 

Middle Girl 

*you wanna fly you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.  

New Year, Same Me

 

Well, not 100% the same, but mostly.  

Wednesday, January 1st looked a lot like Tuesday, December 31st.  

But, there is a shift, of sorts.  A change toward developing (or rather, re-developing) more positive habits toward more positive goals and outcomes.  

We are seduced by the "new" in Happy New Year! Or, I should speak for myself.  "I" am seduced.  

Or, should I be? 

I feel an urge, but not a sense of urgency. 

But, I do.  

Kind of.  

New Year, same me.  

Cheers! 

Art

A few years ago I resurrected a long-dormant practice.  In my latter high school years, I majored in art.  It was the intent to major in art in college.  I did create a portfolio as part of my application to the department.  My emphasis was drawing (over textiles, sculpture, or painting). I was accepted to the department. Had I continued, I would have entered the department as a degree candidate.  

I didn't finish college.  A long story for another time.  However, I continued drawing and exercising other disciplines as time and materials allowed.  There was, though, quite a lull during the child-rearing years.  

The 80s and 90s were a virtual blur.  

Bremen, In

It took until 2018 to begin a more regular sketching practice.  Since then, I've completed 5 sketchbooks.  I am weeks away from completing the sixth.  I've joined groups that prompt, motivate, and inspire. I've shared the sketches publicly and have endeavored to grow artistically.  (charcoals, y'all)  

A friend tagged me in the Mural Mosaics Global Roots program which allowed me to paint, which I hadn't done in decades.  The final product isn't exactly as I envisioned but sits in a little easel, on display, in my living room. I am grateful for the opportunity and happy to have finished.  

If you're in Bremen, IN visit the mural there.  If you're in any of the other cities (or countries) where other murals are situated, visit those too.  If you're of a mind, complete a registration for your own tile, and give it a whirl.  

Big fun.  

Thank you, friend.      

Tell Me A Story

I had a dream about my maternal grandmother. 

Except she wasn't in it.  

In the dream, I was at the two-flat she called home rescuing some kittens.  

Not her kittens, for she never had kittens (any pets for as long as I'd known her).

This was the most vivid dream I've had in a long while.  

The vivid dream compelled me to look up the address (of course I remember it).

According to the street view, the building is empty and boarded up, for sale—"investor's special!"

I know not what any of these means.  

I do know that now I want kittens that I absolutely cannot have.  

                                                                 

                                                                         Buttah (flashback) RIP