too much to do . . . slow down

Finished a small pot at class tonight — redstone clay, coil built about 12″ tall and 12-15″ in diameter. It will go into the first firing this week, most likely, then glaze, then fire again. Have decided that I need some nice mugs so that I can make tea for new friends. I do have two cups that match a tea/coffee pot that I made last year. Perhaps I’ll dig out the pot from storage. One of my friends in class tonight told me that all the poshest of the posh don’t bother to match their cups, plates, etc. I’m afraid Mr. Didgeridoo player will have to drink from whatever cups are in the house this weekend.

Haven’t touched the fabric stuff since Sunday — haven’t touched needle and thread to fabric. This is my first really free weekend since November. I had thought of taking a class from Carole Ritberger called “Ancient Wisdom of the Merkabah and the Twelve Stargates of Initiation.” Then I asked myself why, when I am doing so much already, and I didn’t have a clue what the class was about. I just enjoyed Dr. Ritberger’s presentation last week. So I’m staying home this weekend, hoping that a couple of friends will be able to come by for visits.

Continuing the plans for another recital/art show in 2008. I have asked the first of three composers about commissions. #1 is considering it; I’m hoping he will say yes, as you might imagine. The parameters are few since I would like them to address whatever talents I have, as well as their own specialities in the compositions. Use of my oboe or English horn playing, my singing or keyboard playing, and general cavorting should prove interesting.

I have not let go of that “lost love” from my teenage years. It will probably take the time between now and when I find another comfort zone to let him go. The hot and cold surges of feelings are baffling; each surge takes on a life of it’s own. One moment I am sure that this is the end. The next moment I am thinking hot, spicy thoughts. Who is this talking? Where does it come from? So something has been unlocked. Good grief, I’m nearly ready to put it back in hiding after just a little over a month!

But I won’t put it away. It’s fully out there now. I’m making contacts with new friends, but have to beware that I know how to avoid those with whom I should not be. I’ll figure it out. Should really do my reading tonight, but now I just want to go to bed and listen to some good music. Perhaps something like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51bsCRv6kI0
but I’m not sure which version I like best.

Hoping that the people who came to see the house this afternoon will have cash on the barrel head, will pay the full price, and need me to be out of here by Saturday. I can do that! No problem. That means 2nd retirement in a couple of weeks. Yahoo!

Going to bed. No question about it now. a demain.

where’s the other earring?

Ok.  Where is the other earring?  I just bought my third pair of gaspeite earrings.  The stone is a lovely green colour, generates a good creativity vibe – completed four fabric art pieces in record time in January – great looking.  I loved them all.  Third pair became mine on Sunday night.  Wore them to an event on Monday night.  Got home – had only one earring.  Did I lose it at home?  Did I even wear two when I went out? Why did I change from the lapiz and turquoise ones I was wearing just hours before that?  So now, my lovely greenstone earrings have turned into my lovely greenstone earring.  I don’t begrudge the $$ that have gone into my vast collection of one-sided earrings.  I now have pairs that are not perfectly matched, like the brown and black one made of coconut shells that is matched with the red teardrop with sterling silver.  Lovely pair.  Maybe I’ll just go to the stores where I can get just one.  I find this quite annoying………but if this is the top of my annoyance list, it’s time to shut up.  On a scale of one to a billion, with a billion being the height of annoyance, this rates a 6.  So I’ll just be quiet, and continue to purchase earrings when I see some I like — a quiet reward for a job well done (living, that is).  Never considered getting a jewelry box or anything like that.  Amazing what comes to you when you actually think about it!

Maybe I should do what I did with my son’s persistent missing sock problem.  Buy only one kind of sock for the kid.  Then there will always be pairs!

in control?

Well, here I thought I was so in control of things this morning.  I go to my email, and there is “that address” staring me in the face.  I could barely breathe.  And from the comments I’m getting (thank you so much!), this is happening to countless people the world over.  Should I open it – is it personal – is it merely factually related to our common interests (there is more of that lately).   So, after several minutes of staring at the monitor, I open it and it’s merely a link to a web page of interest.  Of course, I couldn’t open in, so now what to do?  I sat for another few minutes, then responded with “unable to download.” 

I’ve even been delving into online reading on the subject of email affairs.  What am I doing?  Since this person has a family right now and is comfortable where he is, then why.  The diatribe is endless where this subject is concerned.  I also realized this morning, that even though we knew each other as hormone-charged teenagers, something else was there.  Something we can now recognize as mature – very mature adults. 

So here I am, blessed with inspiration in my art, ready to leave my job when I sell the house, and someone from the past arrives.  You know what . . . it’s comfortable.  Just like he’s comfortable in his current situation.  But I don’t want comfortable with him now, regardless of how much we’ve shared, regardless of how much we could share in the future.  The other thing is that I’m not willing to work only with the other person’s parameters.  Hey, I’ve got parameters, too.

I’m moving on.  Of course, I don’t hate him.  I still love that he unlocked a part of me that had been hidden, stuffed away for many, many years.  He was a barrel of fun, laughs, quirkiness, eccentricity, total wackiness – with a goodly portion of serious thrown in … with a capability to love, cherish, and encourage beyond thought.  But he’s comfortable where he is, and I still return to that vow to myself that I will not sacrifice or disrespect anyone’s committment to another by imposing my self on any aspect of the life they have chosen.  Of course, there’s the touch of the hand, the warmth of the body and all that goes along with it.  Those are so difficult to turn away from, don’t you know. 

It’s your choice.  It’s my choice.  He was put back in my life for us both to realize just where we are, and where we are going.   If he were not in this committed relationship, only those above us know where this might have gone.  But that’s not the case. 

Will we stay in touch through these emails?  The experts all say that if no one knows with whom he is communicating, it is a secret affair, even though now the content is cooling off.  I know that my hormone levels vascillate throughout the day — one hour I am cool with it all being over…….. one hour I’m reading the subject of the email “big hands” – so where’s the control then?  When you create an email, you are there with that person.  Notice how it affects you when you see that screen name appear.  I’m still dealing with that. 

Will I ever be in control of this situation?

the simple stuff

Why is the simplest concept the hardest to grasp?  Why does it take the longest to get?  Why does it overwhelm me the most?  So I’m sitting on the edge of the bed this morning after taking a hot shower where I was singing the Aaron Neville/Linda Ronstadt duet of “Don’t Know Much.”  I started to get sort of nostalgic about the past, then I started listening to the words again.  http://www.lyricsfreak.com/a/aaron+neville/dont+know+much_20002409.html

And at that precise moment, the dawn broke and I realized that these words can be for me, for myself, to myself.  So many love songs can be misconstrued especially when presented to people as innocent ditties.  With the issues I have been struggling with over the past few weeks (relationships that were resurrected from the ashes of decades ago) with not only sexual under- and overtones (physical), but those that are of a more spiritual (for want of a better word) nature.  Those are the hardest to disconnect. 

So, my friend (and I guess I’m talking to myself here also), let’s get on with the day.  I am ready for just about anything right now. 

home at last

Here I am, getting on for 14 hours away from home today. And all of it within 20 minutes of home. I know for some 14 hours is nothing at all. For me, it is a lifetime. When you consider what has happened to me in the past month and a half, you would also think that 14 hours is a considerable chunk of a day to be away from all that you would like to be doing — it’s dark now, like nearly 9pm; the dark, rain-filled skies have cleared from their chaos causing pleuting (combo word – Franglais) and driver wackiness, I happened to be out in the worst of the rain. People on the road always act as though they have never been in the rain —- ever! And for a town that sees it’s share of wetness throughout the year, the blippies in the middle of the road seem to disappear when wet or frosty. The city people must have purchased the ones for sunny climates – the ones with no rain, of course. So that makes people think there is no line down the middle of the roadways. Every other day, most drive sensibly and defensively with no thought of where the middle of the road is relative to where they are. A few drops of precip and all heck breaks loose.

Dinner was at Mehran, housed in restaurant previously known as Wulff’s, the local French hideaway. When we walked in at 6:30, we were the only people there. Yikes! There was one person who came for take-out and left hastily because they couldn’t provide the meal in 5 minutes. There was one other couple, then later two short guys with one really tall guy. My friend said, “Basketball player,” and proceeded to guess which country they were from — everything from Lithuanian to Middle Eastern to . . . it got ridiculous after a while. Told him to go over and ask. But oh no! Never would he do that.

The food was so-so. The samosas were ok – not much filling, so not much flavour. The sauce on my friend’s chicken tikka masala was slightly sweet, and not at all spicy. He had told the server he would send it back if it weren’t spicy enough, but he didn’t. Maybe he’s seen — what was that film called — was it “Waiting”? The garlic naan was short on butter and garlic, and was a bit dry. The pakoras were all broccoli, and seemed to be twice deep fried, which was icky. Now my dish of okra masala was stunning. I could have done without the bits of fresh tomato, but the okra was excellent. Basmati — absence of a real scent which is so expected. Why were the plates cold? Why even bother heating the food if you are going to serve it on cold plates? I could hear the dinging of a microwave in the kitchen. Makes you wonder.

I just finished the best cup of tea I’ve had in months. Numi tea bag of ruiboos. Tastes like earth — but then, I like earth flavour. I think that’s what drew me to working with clay. I remember once driving down a road, pulling up beside an earthmover tractor, and just wanting so badly to get out and scoop some of that reddish-brown earth into my hands, and rub it all over me. Since I was on the way to work, my sensibilities got the better of me, and I just drove behind the vehicle for a few miles before turning off

Going to take a rest in my bedroom; will get up later to do a few things. Just need to stretch the body. Too much sitting today. I did, however, go and exercise my *W#$* off before dinner. Anxious to meet with the didg player/massage therapist this weekend. Hoping he can help me with my shoulders and neck.

I have some details about the reconnection with my old friend, but will share those with him only.

Later . . .

The way I see it, Barry . . .

This site has obviously not been my vehicle of choice in the past few days, having been in pursuit of the future.  It is not so much illusive, but guarded.  I am allowed to know things in the correct sequence for now, and have to take certain steps before even thinking about the next ones. 

The time for healing is now.  I have moved out of my comfort zone, have begun to understand just who is with me and who is agin’ me, that if I don’t move out of comfortable, I will just stay where I am.  So, once again, that comfy sofa and the new big bed will not enter my life until I have moved from this house — which by the way has not yet had an offer on it.  Memories of flings from the past are slowly being replaced with glimpses of the future — of people who might be a part of it all. 

This weekend I will meet with a talented didgeridoo player whom I met last Sunday — an unassuming young chappie whose feet are firmly planted on the ground for now, and just getting ready to start his practice – with the didg in body movement and also massage therapy.  In a couple of weeks, I have made a date to meet with a new-found person with whom I just clicked.   And all of this is me being bold and forward sort of like I used to be way back when.  The world is so different right now.  The trust issues that are plaguing me must now step aside for the test period. 

Must take care not to clutter up the calendar too much, since one can clutter life as easily as cluttering surroundings.  That was a major issue in the past, and still rears its ugly head periodically.  Having dinner with a friend tonight — spent a long time talking last night — this morning accused him of yelling at me, but he says all he did was say things I needed to hear.  The yelling was my perception.  Should have known that.  He rarely yells.  Usually only at stupidity. 

Reading and writing assignments are looming.  They will be completed, but will the fabric and clay be calling to me all the while?  No deal.  The art will be interspersed with the assignments.  In fact, will start on the fabric piece for a friend’s uncle tonight after dinner, and before the writing I will be doing.  Upon waking this morning, really wanted to stay home and work on Buckaroo, just so that I could have one completed fabric piece since the show in January.   Actually wanted to sprawl there on the little bed and meditate, but as the clock showed 6:15 or so, decided it would be judicious to jump up, do the usual morning ablutions, then toddle off to the workplace. . . which I so obediently did. 

A friend visualized my new living space for me this morning, and gave it to me as a gift.  How sweet and thoughtful.  I have taken it, and will run with it even with the three green plants on the balcony. 

Later.

long phone calls . . .

Today and tonight has been filled with the men in my life . . . my son, my brother, my friend, my I-wish-there-were-more-to-it person. Breakfast with my son — while a real estate agent showed the house at 9am, and the realtor had an open house from 11 to 2. Then on to son’s apartment to watch “The Secret” which I watched last night and wanted to share with him. He kept the movie, and will watch it again several times, he says.

We followed that with an hour or so of strenuous competition in Guitar Hero for the PS2. He had, of course, been practicing since he got it last weekend, and I just picked it up today. Very strange concept. Not sure how many people who are non-musicians are successful at this odd game. The “easy” modes leave so many notes out of the solos that it’s hard to imagine just where they fit in. A real hoot.

Then I met with Ben at the local fitness center and did a quick workout with him. Signed up for a month, and will return tomorrow at noon for another session with a trainer. Looking forward to these new machines, and new faces. Got tired of the “girl talk” at the other place. Truly ready for changes.

Going to chant the chakras with Vina Parmar tomorrow night. She will be accompanied by a didjeridoo player. Really looking forward to that. By the way, might not have mentioned that I have started the Artist’s Way course. Haven’t quite finished my assignment for Monday night’s session, but should finish tomorrow morning. Facilitated by Vina.

So, had a long chat with my brother tonight. Talked with him about relationships. First time ever. Good suggestions. Then chatted with friend for so long that my phone started to run out of juice.

Friend and I spoke of the musical samples I wrote of the other day. I could finally admit that I’m a very good oboe player. He concurred in many words that I will cherish and think back upon whenever I have need.

Ever had trouble thinking of the name of a significant other from the past? I can picture this person, but for the life of me will probably remember in the middle of the night, and sit bolt upright and say the name aloud.

The last person is close, but far away. We both know what is about to happen, but neither sure just how it will. I’m curious enough to wait.

I’m going to the bedroom to meditate, do some Mayan abdominal massage, and listen to KVMR as I drift off to sleep. Hoping for a long uninterrupted swath of time. Tomorrow brings yet another house showing at 11:30am, so I will be outta here and on to the fitness machines at noon. Bonne nuit.

medical intuitive session

Well, took myself to a “why-the-heck-am-I-going-to-this” session at the local alternative bookstore last night, where I listened attentively to the most popular medical intuitive in town. She gave a short presentation followed by having people draw names of attendees out of a basket and doing readings on them. As she said, all readings are relevant to everyone. Yes, I must say there was stuff for me all around me without having been one of the select few – maybe 8 or 9 in an hour and a half. Some went quickly, some were more drawn out. Strange how you all go into a room together, not actually knowing each other, and come out knowing a little something about several of the people. We established a commonality in those few minutes.

I was quite fascinated as she explained to one woman who had been in an automobile accident two years ago, that the pain in her hip was actually not from the accident, but from her nagging sister. Also fascinating that her husband/lover is a laying on of hands healer. He has worked with her for lo these two years since the accident, on her neck, on her forehead, through her feet, but she cannot get the healing to hold. I wanted to get up and shout to her that she should stop resisting him, but held myself back.

At the break, as she took a young woman to the back of the room to meet an assistant of hers, she walked toward me smiling broadly, saying, “Great colors! Great colors! (she sees colors around people) You are a wonderful, wonderful old soul ! I just want to hug and squeeze you!” which she did vociferously. I thought I had noticed her looking at me through the first half of the session, but chalked it up to me just wanting her to look at me!

I had my decision about leaving my job validated just like when you go to a store in the mall downtown and get your parking sticker validated. There’s no question about where I am going now.

I will be staying in town, save for a week or so away at a silent retreat, after the house is sold. There will be an agent coming with some clients tomorrow morning at 9 (time to change the flowers in the dining room and the master bath) and my realtor will hold another open house tomorrow from 11 to 2. This weekend should be the time when someone gloms onto the place. I have released the house to the new people, and have asked it to be cooperative, since the new owners will love it even more than I have. I have explained that it is time for me to go now. The house seems to understand, but I’m not sure about the few entities who have not yet vacated — who have not scarpered like many others who are waiting outside and in other places to see who buys this place. These are all, needless to say, benevolents. I have no fear, and they should be happy to have artistic people who will find this house appealing for the energy that is now in it.

By the way, I love my new room, or should I say my newly-decorated sleeping and resting room. It suits me so well — but of course, I did select everything. I have several assignments for a course I am taking. More on that tomorrow after I have completed the assignments and can once again sit down at the computer and tap, tap, tap.

I do have a raging headache right now. Do wonder if this and other occurances are migraines or not, but if I start reading about health issues, I’ll most likely find several other symptoms of diseases and conditions that I think I have — at least for a few days.

The rays are completed on the Buckaroo sun. Now to the cowgirls’ hats that will be beaded around the edges, avoiding the little ribbon flowers above the ears of each girl. I actually have hung up the fabric piece on the wall. It looks quite interesting. Guess this area will have to wait a bit longer for a view, unless my son’s friend can do photography, too.

By the way, I think I severed my relationship with my new website designer today after making a comment about his beloved. Oops. Better now than later. What is it with me and geeky types anyway? I will make an attempt to work with a friend of my son. He needs the work, and experience. What the heck, eh?

a demain.

When someone buys this house . . .

I’m going to give a couple of weeks notice, and leave my job. They already have an inkling about it, but until now it has been a dream. My current job is my retirement job — where I am working to pay the mortgage payment after taking an early retirement from teaching. From within, the answer finally came to me that I don’t really want to cram in all the pottery and fabric art and everything else I do into evenings after work and weekends. Can barely imagine what it would be like to wake up every morning and not spend eight hours away from what I really love most – well, maybe second best, but then I’m on hiatus from my really favorite activity for a minute. I easily spend several hours each evening working on the beading – the embellishment of the fabric pieces. It has taken me three nights to work on just the sun crystals of Buckaroo; I’m still not finished. Should take me another hour or so, then it’s on to the beads or French knots on the silk pointed pieces.

I’ll be glad when I start working with my website guy this weekend. I should be able to attach some in-progress and finished photos of the pieces I keep talking about.

I have talked to people about whether I need the job for impetus to keep doing the art. My pottery teacher says that the job is in the way — that I’ll most likely be overjoyed to have the time to do what seems to be pouring out of me right now. I rather dread trying to sketch the ideas that are swimming around in my brain. Thanks to Robert Dvorak with whom I took a drawing class a few months ago, I can do continuous line drawings that are fairly representational of what I want to record.

And speaking of recording, I’ve decided that tomorrow morning while waiting for the pest inspector to come to the house, I will drag the keyboard in from the garage and start playing again. If I can’t get my son to accompany me on the guitar, I’ll just have to work by myself for the time being and get some songs ready for the recording I will do either later this year or early next year. Keep hearing songs like “The Nearness of You” and “The Water is Wide” that I have put on a wish list of songs I like. Need to find my four part acapella arrangements of a few standards that I did several years ago. Getting that bug again, too. And if I leave the job, I’ll have time for doing more arranging.

Yowza. I’m so excited about life today. Only a few weeks (or was it days) ago, I was feeling quite isolated, insulated and just living. Today, I’m ready for whatever will cross my path — and I might just go out and find another path to follow after the experiences of the past year or so.

Too tired to go on. Eyes are tired, but body still willing. Still have to move the boxes of pottery away from the walls in the garage so that mr. pest man can inspect again.

Good night, world.

Oboe from 1995

A couple of nights ago found some samples online from a 1995 recording of the Sacramento Master Singers — me playing oboe on a couple of them. Thinking of the confidence and preparation it takes to launch into a solo like the one called “How Still He Rests” and the other, a wonderful John Rutter piece, “The Lord is My Shepherd.” Realized that I must get another copy of the cds since I sent my copies to someone out of state to whom I was betrothed at birth. Well, not actually sure which of the twins I was betrothed to, but finally made the decision a few years ago not to deal with either one, since twins are too strange. I’ve only known a few pairs of twins in my lifetime, but they all admit that it takes a rare person to deal with one twin in a relationship, since that twin always comes with another one right there beside them. Now, these guys are 60 years old and still competing for their mom’s attention, for each others’ relationships, and still live together off and on – with mom.

Seems like I can answer my own questions if I just think about it and draw it out from inside. I have always thought that I should hope for more . . . . . . and now from a slightly different perspective, I am planning for different. What a concept. Different — that which I have not yet experienced, or perhaps add what I know and like, and incorporate that into a whole life. I have always been afraid that I would miss the occasion, that the opportunity to have this “different” would pass me by and I wouldn’t even notice. Now I know that’s not true. Wow. I have the choice to do these things for me.

With everything and everyone that has been in my life within the past month, I get excited thinking of what is to come – that I do have choices to make, that I do need to take time to put the ideas on paper like a business plan.

When the physical space around me was cluttered, I was nuts. Cleaning and sorting brought a new kind of clarity. For many years, my physical body has been overburdened with extra weight and fibroids, and it made me nuts. I have now started on that process, first with getting myself to move through exercise, then changing the food plan – yes dramatic changes. Realization: despite the clutter and body stuff, people have loved me over the years, and will continue to come into my life and love me. Those things do not keep people away, even though that was part of my plan. No longer is it part of the plan. I can now remove my self-imposed barriers and get on with “different.”

Yes, in many ways, I am still nuts but in a good way. After all, without being nuts, I wouldn’t have met some of the greatest people in the world — or would I have?