Junio

 

We are six days into this new month and I've already lost a day.  All day Thursday I was operating under the premise that is was only Wednesday.  This, in and of itself, wasn't an epic proportion tragedy. It has presented more like an annoyance that the work stuff (tasks I set up to get stuff done in accordance to pre-determined schedules and deadlines) was now off which undoubtedly impact the off-the-clock task list and schedule.  

Otherwise, June has gone as expected; it has been hot, noisy (thanks to Memorial Day fireworks, motorcycles, bikes, four-wheelers, blaring car stereos, and of course, kids playing) and reflective.  

The half-year mark is kind of a natural point of looking back as well as looking forward.  Looking back, goals established at the beginning of the year have not been fully met. Some daily goal benchmarks were met but clearly not consistently or urgently enough as the expected results are missing.  

So, looking forward: Reset.   

The plan, I believe, was a good plan, but I need to be more consistent and approach each day with a bit more urgency toward reaching and achieving.  

Cheers to June.  Here's to the days and weeks ahead.  

  

Calling All

Look This Way 

Rules dictate that I can't share names or any other information about the clients I work with or (and especially) the patients.  But, I want to talk about one patient, well, actually a series of patients who called on what was, "a normal" Wednesday afternoon.  

The patients who reach out to me (the company) call to talk about a bill they've received for we are, after-all, a medical billing company. Aside from those callers who are offering credit/debit card information to pay their bill, are those who have some sort of dispute, need some clarification, need to offer some additional insurance detail, or  just want to vent.  

The normal Wednesday was full of venters.  

The first venter didn't remember the doctor named on the bill she's holding in her hand.  The treatment given during a recent hospital admission.  This statement is a common vent.  Often, when one is hospitalized an army of practitioners may storm through a room. Patients are generally not in a position to take note or notes of who is who or even why. So, when they receive a pile of bills some weeks later, they are (often) perplexed.  This venter was less than satisfied with the information I provided. Very often the venter isn't looking to understand (or to be understood). They typically just want to be heard.  She eventually ran out of steam and hung up.  

The second venter couldn't understand why she's receiving a bill 2 years beyond the treatment date. I tried to explain that the bill in her hand wasn't the first one mailed; that I couldn't explain why  none of the others found her, but tried to assure her others had been mailed even giving her those previous statement dates. She was convinced that we were trying to scam her, that someone had co-opted her identity and is trying to take her $17.82. She hung up with an air of satisfaction that she'd bested me (us) in our attempt to extort her money.  

The final venter didn't know the practitioner, didn't remember the treatment, didn't understand why she's receiving a bill, ("I have insurance!!!") didn't trust me (the company), didn't have any money to pay any, damn bill, didn't appreciate that we were harassing her. This venter opted to use her outside voice during most of her vent.  She was a big fan of punctuating her sentences with some profanity. 

I have clearance to hang up on this type of venter.  However, I rarely hang up on them. I will either stay quiet until they run out of steam or ask them to please stop shouting and certainly stop with the profanity.  I assure them that I will do what I can to assist but will not engage. I will not match them shout for shout.  

I understand the measure of frustration these patients feel.  I understand that many feel powerless and overwhelmed and need to vent.  I admit, some days I have less patience for the venters even if I do understand the frustration that drives them to the phone. Still, I hang on and try to do what I can to help them (and of course, collect their payment or promise to pay).   

The final venter did stop shouting and did edit the profanity however we didn't get any closer to her accepting the current reality. 

She will likely pay her bill. . . eventually.  

Or not.  

She may even call again. 

Maybe even on a Wednesday. 

On the upside, since I work from home now, I can log off, take a walk, pet the dog, have a tall drink of water (or juice, or make a smoothie), or primal scream it out.   

And then, get back at it.  

  

 

Another Year Older

Pete at Fifteen

Do you remember when you first learned to read? Or write? Or ride a bike? Or anything that you can point back to that changed the course of your life? That opened your world? That upset the applecart in sometimes good or sometimes not so good ways?  

That first one? 

Fully disclosure, I do not remember many of the life altering moments. Well, not the exact moments but certainly took in full measure of the changes, the shifts.  I recall quite fondly the first time I rode a bicycle all by myself.  I remember the first bike I received as a gift. I remember using those wheels, and my power churning those wheels to put some distance between home and the rest of the world.  

Well, the neighborhood, at least.  

One of the exact moments I remember is meeting Pete.  And I remember bringing him home from the shelter.  Pete, you see, was my first pet as an adult.  Actually, the first cat....ever.  My family owned dogs (many dogs) when I was growing up.  My children didn't have pets as children.   

So Pete checked many boxes with his presence.  

Pete, like Buttah, were the pets, the cats I didn't think I wanted and certainly didn't think I needed.  

I was wrong. Pete is exactly what my household needed at the time and is exactly right for the household now.  He's a prince.  He's not a cuddle puddle kind of cat and that is okay, I have understood that about him from the very beginning. I respect his boundaries. He loves that about me.  

The other first I remember is the very first blog post on this space.  I remember discovering blogs as I was discovering myself, as I was, in the word of former first lady, Michelle Obama, "becoming." I was living a shadow life, a shell of my actual self, going through the motions, keeping up appearances, following the path set out before me.  

It would be some posts later before I actually uttered the words, that truth, the soul of me--that which others in my life report to have known, or had guessed to be true.  It would be some 1,000 (plus) posts later that revealed other truths, insights, humors, highs, lows . . .   

And loss. 

Within these pages I talk about the loss of my mother, my father, the diva dog and the orange boy. Thanks to these pages I was comforted and supported. I have cherished the community that visited here and grateful for the bloggers who have shared their lives, journeys, insights, truths, highs, lows, and more.  I cherish the friends made through blogging.  

Like Pete, this space is fifteen years old this year.  (Pete, 03/06   Middle Girl, 03/29) 

Like I love the prickly Pete. I love this space even as the community at large has opted for other mediums or distanced themselves off the internet. I love what remains, I love what may be again someday. And even if it is never like it was, this space will remain a special repository for my thoughts, truths, joys, and pains.  

I remain ever grateful for the readers, commenters, fellow bloggers, and friends.    

May peace be with us all. 

                                                                                       

Dog With A Ball In The Creek

     

  

       

  

  

  

Outside

 

Slowly but surely? the villages cities, states, are re-opening.  Slowly but surely? vaccines are becoming more accessible. Slowly but surely? my confidence of not just being outside (beyond walking the dog) but on public transportation is growing.  

I re-loaded my transit card in anticipation of running a few errands over the next several weeks.  

I will likely take public transportation to get the vaccine when my number is called.  

Slowly. 

Surely.

Gingerly. 

Cheers to Spring! 

                                                                  my annual ode to spring

                                                                       Here they come 

Out with the Cold

Neighbor's Frozen Masterpiece

 

February theme: Botanicals

A couple of weeks ago we got nearly a foot of snow overnight.  I had the happy luck of having to walk the pooch before the building management came around to clear the stoop and walk.  Following all that luck, I missed the last step and face planted into the fluffy new snow in the front of our building. 

There is lingering pain in my right knee, which took the brunt of the impact, radiating down my right leg. Otherwise, I'm okay. And thankfully, a warm snap and a bit of rain have mostly rid our environs of that thing called snow.  

Mostly.  The grassy areas are still masses of slowly shrinking mounds which means I get to tromp through to pick up after the pooch.   

In other news, one of the recent art prompts was, "Signs of Spring." That prompt pairing with another group's theme for February: Botanicals meant that I spent many days looking at and drawing plant and other images depicting S P R I N G.   

I am ready for warner weather, brighter days, and lighter clothing.  

More than ready. 

Winter

 

Spoiler alert, it is winter here in the mid-west.  Well, it's winter in other places as well, but yeah...winter.  I wouldn't say I was in shock or awe over the winter weather we have been battered with  these last (what feels like) 1,000 days, I mean, it IS the mid-west, but good golly when will it not be snowing, when will it not be less that 30 degrees? Or, more than 20? 

Still, we're not having a Texas experience. My heart goes out to those folks and to all folks who are experiencing anything for which they were not prepared and for which a solution feels far away. 

I cannot let tis day, this post go by without noting that eight years ago today my mother took her last breath.  While I do (mostly) wrap myself in the happier times and drink in her infectious laugh I cannot deny that there is a void, a hole in my heart that is always missing her. I have gotten through these last (what feels like) million days by . . well, truth be told, I don't know how, maybe the sketchbook / art groups. 

My daughter noted in her FB mention of the occasion that, "on this date 8 years ago I lost my biggest fan." Which is true, as much as I champion my daughter (and son) my mom was even more robust in her cheering on! And that sentiment is exactly my sentiment. Mom was MY biggest fan too.

We are all cheering for one another but it isn't quite the same.  

Closing the book on this day, I have some sketching to do. I see the weather forecast is for partly sunny with temps rising to maybe twenty degrees over the next several days. One of my neighbors is working on an elaborate snow sculpture. It looks like he'll have time to finish it and we all will have some time to ooh and ahh over his masterpiece before nature shifts.  

Winter.  

One Year in Three Weeks

 My new favorite candy is Giant Reese's Peanut Butter Cups stuffed with pretzels.   I have only had one and given my new life goals, one is all I'll have for some time to come but I thought that you should know that I have a new favorite.  

However, I have not yet tasted the Mocha Chocolate KitKats.  On the face of it, that candy stands an excellent chance of becoming my favorite. But, again, given my new life goals I likely will not know for some time the potential of Mocha Chocolate KitKats moving into the favored role.  And again, I thought that you should know. 

Oh, by the way, new life goals are really old life goals that took a hiatus and are now back front and center.  You all probably know the drill, labs came back indicating yada x3, medical professionals advises certain actions and changes yada x3 and so the journey is re-booted and continues.  These last few weeks have been a trial to say the least.  The net results however, positive.  

Onward. Forward.  

I am sure you've notice I haven't spoken of THE events of the last few weeks / days.  Some made me extremely angry and anxious while others made me extremely happy and hopeful. 

H A P P Y NEW  Y E A R!!   HOPE FILLED NEW  D A Y!!!  

The Year That Is Finally Ending

 

We are a short (or long, depending on your point of view) twenty days from the end of the longest (yet shortest) year ever. I'm hearing every day, time and time again about how all days have looked the same, how tired we all are of the routines, the isolation, the masks, the frustration with folks not wearing masks, how these days have been the longest ever. 

For me, the next twenty days will look a lot like the previous 346 with some exceptions for possible wardrobe changes for possible worsening weather conditions. 

Just to catch you up and to clue you in: 

Both my son and daughter remain healthy. My son's industry is basically shut down but he has managed to stay afloat and look as though he may weather the storm. Casting calls have resumed, albeit guardedly.  My daughter is working in an Assisted Living facility as a culinary lead.  They are tested weekly and have on-site safety protocols in place to minimize exposure and spread.  

My employment as a revenue cycle specialist with the medical billing company remains active.  My being able to work from home (even before the pandemic) has been quite the saving grace.  Things with the company were a little  shaky for a time; there were lay-offs at the beginning. There have been a couple of new hires so, at least things are holding steady. 

I have not cut my hair.  I am still sketching though not every day as before. But I feel good about what I produce and the communities I have discovered. I spent a good number of recent days creating and mailing greeting cards for the nearest and dearest of family and friends.  I expect to finalize the last batch before the weekend has expired.  

My annual medical visits, postponed from May because...well, you know, will take place over the next month or so. I have four appointments lined up and barring any hiccups in any of the labs or screenings I should be good to go for 2021. 

Twenty-twenty notwithstanding I'm feeling pretty good. Given the track record here over the last several months I probably won't be back here within the next twenty days so I shall wish you all 

Happy Happy Joy Joy  for whatever December holiday celebrations you observe.  May your next twenty days be more of the same or better or at least full of Peace Joy Love Health and Happiness 

The End of October!?! November First

 

Something bit me.  This something either bit me twice or two somethings bit me in pretty much the 

same area; the back of my neck about 4 fingers from my right ear. 

I started this post some days ago (the 27th of October to be precise) and have since decided to take the post in a different direction while also deciding to leave the beginning. I won't leave you hanging thought, the bites on my neck are completely healed. Suffice to say, at the time the wounds were troubling enough to warrant mention, let alone a blog post.  

I had  a dream about one of my maternal aunts the other night.  She was the third oldest of my mom's 5 female siblings during my childhood / life.  Her death preceded my mother's by at least a decade but she was very prevalent in our lives during her life.  My mom was one of her primary caregivers during her decline; of all my cousins I am closet to her daughters.  

In the dream my aunt was alive in my present day but as if she hadn't aged since the 80s. The imagery and conversations were so jarring that I have worked to push the little bits that I did remember out of my mind. With the exception a singular event; the fish fry. Her fish fries were events of family lore. These memories I hold dear and don't mind their creeping into even creepy dreams.   

Hold On

 

Part of my work entails making calls to insurance companies.  More often than not, hold times are part of the equation.  Astronomical hold times.  Because of that factor I usually make calls when there are other tasks that may be accomplished while on hold; updating notes in charts, faxing claims,  entering new claim charges, or posting payments.  

Now and again, I'm caught up on other tasks and hold times are spent pondering. 

For instance: 

This pandemic: how much longer? What shall be the short and long-term impact to our cities, states, the country? 

The election: can we trust the process? Will BLUE make a valiant effort and still come up short? What then? If BLUE wins may we expect RED to react horribly? 

Civil War - the Sequel? 

Sometimes the pondering is a little less intense. 

For instance: 

Are there enough leftovers for a decent lunch (or dinner)? 

Is my body beginning to reject dairy? 

What shall I do about Inktober? 

Some drama popped off in a FB Inktober group due to allegations of copyright infringement and plagiarism.  I am sure I've solved the dilemma that caused my unease.  Still, the events, commentary have left a sour note. 

Will live theater return? If so, when? What will that look like? If not, what then? 

How much longer will I be on hold and what the heck is the music? 

Welcome to September. Heck, in a minute it'll be October.  O C T O B E R!! The tenth month! 

WOW 

 

 

  

More than Halfway

Can you believe it is already August!? Or, depending on how you're coping with some measure of isolation, quarantine, pandemic situations, it is "just" August!?  

In either case we're more than half-way through 2020.

Outside of Covid news, there is the election.  I feel like that should be typed in all caps, bold, underlined, and highlighted; THE ELECTION! 

I'm getting the sense that folks are trying to hold on, trying to stay a course, counting on THE ELECTION  to be the catalyst that changes the course of where we are and where we may be headed, which is nowhere good. 

Simply put, we're in deep doo-doo and it's getting deeper.  

I can't talk about it much because every time I do. . . rage.  

In other news...well, there isn't any other news, really.  I'm a year older, my son is exploring musical expression, my daughter is frustrated with work and her car. In the meantime we are masking, distancing, keeping our respective worlds small, and adapting.

Illinois has 195,00 confirmed Covid-19 cases.  Over two thousand new cases were reported yesterday.  There have been 7,846 deaths as of the tally reported yesterday. 

I heard a song a couple of weeks ago, a new release by newly named, "The Chicks" titled, "Set Me Free" and is a haunting love-gone-wrong, nasty dissolution anthem. But I heard it as a battle cry to be released from the horror of  45.

Decency would be for you to sign and release me. If you ever loved me, then will you do this one last thing? Set me free, set me free. 

    

working through it

You may be aware that I am afraid of birds.  Well, "afraid" may be a tad over the top.  Let's just say that I acutely aware of their presence and hyper aware of gatherings that exceed two.  The film, Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" may or may not have any bearing on my . . . condition.

I saw the film for the first time when I was a child; probably around 7 or 8 years old.  I didn't know it then but the film was several years old by the time I saw it.  I'm sure it was featured on some mystery or horror TV programming my older brother was always dialed into. 

Oddly, I don't recall being scared out of my wits when I saw it.  I mean sure, it was creepy and more than a tad unnerving but not scary in a, 'too scared to come out from under the covers' or 'too scared to go outside' kind of way. I remember watching the film often throughout my childhood and young adulthood.  I even introduced my children to the film sometime during their childhoods. 

By that time it was kind of campy. 

But somewhere along the way I discovered that I do not like being in the company of birds....plural.  A single* cardinal, wren,  robin (or even a pigeon--though rarely are they tapping around solo)  doesn't bother me.  But if I see more than one sitting on a branch or a wire, I give pause and give them as wide a berth as possible.

As an aside, I cannot for the life of me I can't imagine why folks would want to own a bird!

I say all this to say that my daughter gifted me the DVD (along with a player and a larger screen TV to replace my dinky little set) for Mother's Day and while back.  The DVD was presented as kind of an inside joke as she has often been at my side when I have pointed out a flock, colony, fleet, parcel, or group of birds and the little shriek that went with the pointing. 

My uneasiness tickles her so she took the opportunity to needle me a bit. 

Gotta love her.

And no, I haven't (still / yet) watched the DVD.  I'm not afraid, I am just . . . busy.  Yes, busy. 

*all bets are off crows (or any of the large breed birds) 

Writing ?

Two hundred and fifteen days. That is how long my daily sketching streak lasted.  I realized the streak was broken the morning of May 5th when May 4th passed without a sketch being done.  At the time I was devastated, cosmically and royally sad and mad.  It felt cataclysmic. 

Okay, maybe not that bad. But, still . . .

Then later in the week when I received news that my aunt, the one that celebrated her 100th birthday in February, died. She'd tested positive for Covid-19.  She was diabetic and had other underlying health issues.   

My broken streak felt small (IS small)  by comparison.

Due to the shelter-in-place, social distancing, and restrictions on gatherings, the services will be (basically) limited to her children and their spouses. Even then, they outnumber the maximum of 10.
 
To accommodate other family, friends, and more who are looking to say their good-byes the family has decided to live stream the services, which will be conducted Tuesday morning. 

Welcome to our newest normal.  How many more funerals, graduations, weddings, and other family events, not to mention concerts, symposiums, live productions of any kind will be attended via the internet? Remains to be seen. 

Be safe. Stay safe.

FYI I resumed the daily sketching on the 5th. Kept it going through the 10th, skipped the 11th, 13th, and 14th. I am now on a two going for three day streak.  

Is This Irony?

A Bowl of Fruit

View From My Window

Illinois issued the shelter in place order on March 20, 2020 and on the 24th there were lay-offs and reduced hours by my employer.  I was saved both of those fates thank goodness.  But.. But... yes, I remain concerned with each passing day that the situation may become more critical necessitating further action by said employer. 

Still, at present,  I am gainfully employed, still working from home, and for the newest normal to the mix, engaging in bi-weekly video staff meetings. 

Remember my casual comment about a year ago of maybe being ready to date again? Well, in my head the timeline for me getting out (with or without a date) was for right about now.  Spring and Summer 'round these parts are 'being out' times. There are art fairs, street festivals, all manner of goings on to increase the options over, 'dinner and a movie'. Even if one wanted nothing more than to walk (or bike) along the lakefront and gaze about that famous skyline.

I feel like I missed last year due to the move and various obstacles.   

Well, this Spring is done.  The lakefront is closed. The parks are closed. The first big annual art fair normally held the first weekend in June has been cancelled and there are sure to be others to follow.  Even as governors convene to discuss a re-opening we are likely looking at June or (sigh) July before public venues re-open. Even then, there will likely be limitations. The re-opening will be a gradual event. (As it should be.)   

I've come to realize in recent weeks that my most social outing had been to the grocery store.  And now, even that is gone as the grocery stores are limiting occupancy to 1 per family.  It just makes more sense for my daughter to be 'the one' as she does most of the food prep.  And just my luck, there are no jewelry kiosks open (not essential) to take a few links out of a watch I bought in anticipation of being 'out and about' and not wanting to rely on my phone for the time.   

Oh, well. 

The upside to being locked down and socially distant is my hair has more time to  get fuller/longer.  It is nearly long/full enough to execute the style I have in mind. And, I have time to get back on my 'get fit' (i.e. lose weight) wagon. I fell off some time ago and well, yikes.

Time. It's on my side.  Sort of.  I guess. All for the greater good. 

Be safe. Stay safe. 

    

The Newest Normal

prompt: something that starts with "T"

prompt: Lick and A Promise

Shelter at home, safer in place, self-quarantine, suspended, postponed, cancelled. This is Spring 2020.  Maybe Summer too? And dare we fear, Fall?  It is all too overwhelming to contemplate so I'm working on maintaining a day-to-day outlook.

It's difficult.

Point of fact my day-to-day hasn't changed much since the beginning of the government's efforts to "flatten the curve".  I was already working (so grateful) from home and I am not, under even the most perfect of conditions, a social butterfly.  My work hasn't had to shut down and in fact, may get busier as the days go on with folks seeking medical attention. (The company has clients whose practices are likely to be less in demand while others are likely see a dramatic uptick).

Still, I'm concerned.  Both my son and daughter work in industries that are not considered essential. Well, my daughter's industry is but as she was employed by an sports and entertainment venue her workplace was shuttered with days on the schedule.  She may be able to get hired on with another group within the industry but job hunting during this time is...well, challenging.  Her income or lack thereof impacts my (our ) budget.  She may get paid for the games missed, a promise with no concrete documentation.

There are options, not great but, something. Those are being explored, utilized in as much as they are feasible. 
 
My son is still waiting to hear if the university (he's a teaching artist working with a theater attached to one of Chicago's major universities) will pay staff during the shut down and if so, for how long.

I am concerned. March feels taken care of economically for us but the days, weeks, m o n t h s following, not so much. And beyond all that, both have, prior to their respective workplaces shutting down, had a lot of contact with a lot of humans.

The unknown (and an extreme lack of confidence in the federal government) invokes fear, anxiety. 

So yes, I'm working on maintaining a day-to-day outlook; trying to focus on that which I may solve.  And reaching out (even more) to family and friends. 

And leaning on art even more. 

Stay safe. Stay home if you can. Follow CDC protocols.  We're all in this together. 

 

 

    

A Porch Goose

Porch Goose*

For several days running I have had a tune roaming about my head. The first few days, just the tune and then, the lyrics.  I remembered the title but I couldn't remember where I'd heard it or why I know it.

Than I asked my daughter. She came up the source in a a nano-second. 

Once she named the source it all became clear (why I know it). What still remains a mystery is why this tune suddenly arrived in my head and more to the point, why the tune won't leave my head. 

The tune: "A Whole New World" ~ I bet you all know the source. 



*About the art, the prompt was laughter.  The image that immediately came to mind was a neighbor's porch goose dressed for Mardi Gras.  This same goose is now dressed for St. Patrick's Day.  There is a second house on the block with a porch goose (what are the odds?) who is also dressed but more for the elements than making a statement.  





 

Remind Me Where We Were

I had a dream a few nights ago about . . . well, I don't really remember what it was about except that during part of it I was trying to avoid these people who were trying to entice me into eating lima beans. I don't know who they were or why it was so important to them for me to have lima beans, but there you have it. 

I has never able to recover the main part of the dream. The lima bean episode took over.    

Oh, by the way, I detest lima beans.  Or I used to.  I haven't had any in decades. I presume I would have the same violent reaction to a plate/bowl/spoonful of the dreaded legume.  It is a theory I'm not open to testing, thank you. 

/Group Dynamics

And Now This Really IS Twenty Twenty

Greetings and Salutations,

And just like that twenty days of twenty twenty are just about over and out.  Are we all still on the eating better, drinking more water, exercising more party bus? For the record, I am, despite the cheese puffs I'm eating right now.

I assure you, this cheese puff eating is an aberration, not a rule of the past twenty days.

But I don't want to talk about what I'm eating or not eating or drinking.

One of my maternal aunts celebrates her 100th birthday next month! Her kids, grands, and great-grands are hosting an event to mark the occasion.  I plan to be there ringing in her new year.  My Aunt (the eldest of my mom's siblings) always possessed an Alaska sized personality; most of her kids, grands, and great-grands share that trait.

It should be quite the party. It shall be the one good thing about February, a good memory to hopefully over-shadow the other.


(Also for the record, still sketching daily, participating in a challenge--squee!)
(Also also for the record, I have not cut my hair.) Squee.

In Review

prompt: Cheer 

The Good Stuff: 2019 PERIOD

Much of twenty-nineteen has been consumed with continued recovery from twenty-eighteen . The ineptitude of the condo association led to a series of events that forced us out of our home, into foreclosure, and in a rental that is . . . growing on us (well, me--my daughter isn't convinced).  In the midst of my daughter and I striking out together, my son found his own way forward. He has survived most of these 9 months thanks to the kindness and generosity of several friends; that support has led to him landing in his own place--well, a place he shares with two other renters, but, still . . . a permanent address. 

Like at the end of twenty-eighteen the look back at twenty-nineteen reveals some good, some bad, and a bunch of stuff in-between. 

One of the biggest boons of twenty-nineteen has to be the transition into working from home.  While I do occasionally miss the camaraderie of office mates, I do not miss the hassle, hustle-bustle of the daily commute.  I relish in the time, energy gained not spending 3 hours (round trip) door-to-door in-transit.  It has been a, in a word, lifesaver. 

 

At the beginning of 2019 I began a 'tip' jar practice which as you can see, is barely filled.  Still, as I reflect on the practice I'm convinced it is a good idea despite my not having kept pace throughout the year. I know when I read the notes on those slips of paper I will be reminded of people, events, music and more that lifted me then and will serve to live me beyond. For twenty-twenty I shall move the location of the jar toward making it and the idea behind it even more present in my day-to-day. If there is a resolution to be had, it is to be resolute in daily practices (like the tip jar) toward the greater good.  

Speaking of daily practices, today marks day 90 of me having sketched in my sketchbook.  Thanks to programs like Inktober, Pencilvember, Drawcember, and the up coming, 30 day sketchbook challenge (aren't there 31 days in January??--uh hmm) I have been duly prompted to put pen, pencil, or chalk to paper and eek out an image. I eagerly await the January prompts which will be delivered by email each day. My mind is spinning over re-working some of the sketches, developing others beyond sketch mode, and continued to develop skills and advance the craft.  

I don't have any grand plans for twenty-twenty beyond putting one foot in front of the other toward striving to survive and working for the greater good for myself, my son and daughter, community, and world at large.  

Come to think of it, that plan is pretty grand. 

Cheers!  Happy New Year!   

  

Who Is This Person?

So, we're in full swing with December and all the draw antics it is bringing.  To say that not only am I still producing a sketch a day but thinking about how to render something, dreaming of images I somehow want to convey . . .  I tell you, it is blowing my mind. 

On a more practical note, I do need supplies (specific supplies like dark toned paper and white ink pens) and a better system of managing the supplies I have and those I will purchase somewhere down the road.

In the meantime, the household is growing accustomed to my new normal. 

To some degree. 

In other news, an old blogging friend (we're still connected via THE FB) just started breast cancer treatment.  And another (not a blogging friend but a long time FB pal) is burying her 21 year old son, lost to (in her words) addiction and depression. 

Reading of these events makes me both extremely sad and incredibly grateful.  However, for the moment, the sad is consuming me. I'm having emotional reactions (that is to say, tears rising to the surface) about nearly everything.  I'm sure the root of most of this--it being THE holiday season and all, cycles back to my mother. 

This shall pass I am sure. 

Welcome to Middle Girl's middle of December in the middle of some existential . . . event.