A GENTLE REMINDER...

Well, this is a record....writing in this blog again so soon....but, my last blog was a bit down and I'm over that now...as always, I bounce back.

I whine sometimes about missing New Mexico...and, I do miss it....but, then I get a gentle reminder about why I came back here.

Today my youngest daughter called on me to take her and my littlest granddaughter to the pediatrician. Little Lili was sick, poor baby and my daughter didn't have her van today. My 13 year old granddaughter, Elaina, came along, too.

When we were finished I wanted to take them to a Chinese buffet for dinner, but Lili was so sick and Janeen decided to just go straight home with her.

Kind of on the spur of the moment when I dropped them off at home, I decided to take Elaina and go to the restaurant. We don't get much time together and I thought it would be fun.
It was.
She's delightful, interesting, intelligent, thoughtful, loving, kind and loooooooves animals, especially dogs. As we were sitting there eating, I asked her what she wanted to do someday as a career. Without hesitation she said she wanted to train dogs.
I can't think of anything she'd be better suited for, as she has a genuine knack with dogs and they respond well to her.

We discussed at great length the care and training of dogs and it was wonderful listening to her.....her beautiful blue eyes just lit up and I had to smile at her enthusiasm about her favorite subject. Any dog who gets her as their trainer is in for a treat!

As we talked, I realized ....once again....why I came back here to Ohio, and how lucky I am that I had something priceless to come back to!

My children and my grandchildren are why I came back. Even if I was a millionaire and could go back to NM, I would not because my family are here and I could not imagine being away from them...especially during the Holidays when we all get together....but, even days like today when I was here when my daughter needed me, or on days when my oldest daughter stops by just to say hi and spends a little time, or my son and I get together at our favorite restaurant for lunch.....simple, everyday things like that; those things that make life worthwhile; those priceless moments that all too often aren't fully appreciated unless you don't have them anymore....and we all know how suddenly that can be taken away.

The having-to-move thing? A minor irritation, as important as a drop of water in the ocean. Not having my family around? A genuine tragedy!

Tomorrow is promised to no one....I learned that lesson a long time ago....so let's never forget that we only have this moment and let's not waste time whining about the stupid, small things that pass in a flash.

I will make my new house a home....just like I did with the house I'm in now....just like I always do, and I will be grateful that I have a place to lay my head at night that is warm, safe and comfortable when there are so many who don't have that luxury.
And I will continue to be grateful that I have my wonderful family close by to brighten up my home!

Thanks again for the gentle reminder, Lord.

CHANGES, CHANGES

Well, it's been so long since I wrote anything in this blog....time has a way of slipping away before you know it.

I'm glad Christmas is over! Although I love it, it's stressful...which, really, if we kept to the real reason for the season, it shouldn't be....but, that's a subject for another time.

Just before Christmas I got notification that I have to move from my home where I've been the past 9 1/2 years. My landlady had decided to sell this place and decided to do so at the worst possible time of year, (I mean, come ON! It's the dead of winter and miserable out) so I've been scrambling like a fool to find a new place (which, with the help of God, I did right away) then start the huge job of sorting through stuff, throwing and giving away that which I don't need, shredding old papers....you know the drill.

I've moved so many times I'm a pro at it....but, that doesn't mean I like it..and it's never easy!

I've learned over the years after many moves that you don't collect junk, you keep your closets cleaned out, don't clutter up your basement...in other words, make it easy on yourself when it comes time to make a change and "get outta Dodge".

I was upstairs just a little while ago, cleaning out my office...definitely a challenge...and came across some photos that I keep in there because I like to look at them often. I picked up one that was of my back yard at my old house in Albuquerque, New Mexico...and...I don't know...it just triggered something and I started crying.
Up until then I pretty much have kept my emotions in check. I mean, I've been through so many changes in my life, and have had to flip a 180 so many times that I have learned to roll with it and move on without too much freaking out.

When I found out I had to move...(about a week before Christmas isn't the best time to get this type of news)....I allowed myself about 10 minutes of freak-out time and then I started planning and making lists. This is how I cope. I'm a great list-maker because it puts things in focus and allows me to figure out the first step in any journey. Step one, obviously, was to find a new place to live...and I did that, as I said, within days with a bunch of help from Above. That just fell into place.

Then I called the phone company and arranged for transfer of services at the new place. That done, I started going through things and doing the sorting.

Last night, I took pictures off the walls, cleaned them and packed all the little knic knacs on the shelves and fireplace mantle. Now, there's something about that process that puts it into your mind that, okay, this is really happening; there's something final about bare walls and no knic knacs that suddenly takes away a lot of the personality of your home. Suddenly, it looks sad and empty already. Doesn't matter that all your furniture and clothing are still there and that you're still sleeping there....those bare walls say something loud and clear: you are not living here anymore.

Today, I took some filler compound and filled in all the holes where I'd hung pictures. Click, click, click.....things are moving right along and I'm patting myself on the back for being so organized and efficient ....and then I just fell apart when I found that picture. I can't even really say why that triggered the tears..except that I miss NM terribly...and I guess that photo was a reminder of how many times I've had to move and how many changes I've endured, and here we go again.

What's it like to be secure? I don't really know. There's only two times in my life when I can remember feeling secure: When I was a child up until age 12. (Then we moved to California and everything turned to crap.) The next time was when I moved to NM. I felt so at peace there; it was life-changing and the best thing I ever did for myself. That lasted for 6 years. So, out of 66 years on this earth, I've only felt secure a total of 18.
I've never owned my own home...mainly because I've never wanted to. My life was always too chaotic, too uncertain and owning a house would have been a huge burden and a chain around my neck.
So now here I am at age 66, having to uproot myself yet again and start all over once more. I'm just too old for this crap, you know? Enough already!

I'm trying to be positive. There are good things about the new place: no stairs, for one. Meandthedog know that stairs are not our friends! She's almost 15 and I can see her struggling each night when we climb the stairs up to our room.

The new place is smaller, but it has a bigger kitchen...this kitchen I have now has always been a pain because it's so tiny. But, I will miss this house. It's comfortable and familiar.

Pros and cons....you have to pick what's important and concentrate on that.

You have to roll with it.

I'm doing my best.

TIME FOR CREATIVITY

Well, once again it's been ages since I've written anything. Mostly it's been apathy, I guess.

Since I've retired...or, I should say semi-retired, since although I don't go out and work anymore, I still run my business from my home office...I too often found myself flopped down on my couch watching the Boob Tube all day....and I mean ALL day! Mindless, brain-numbing crap, for the most part.

I refuse to watch commercials (I have DVR and record all programs automatically that I want to watch, which enables me to zip past the intelligence insulting garbage in about 5 seconds)...but some of the programs aren't much better.

Anyway, I woke up one day and decided that enough was enough and I had to shake myself out of this apathetic nonsense, so I went out and bought a canvas and some acrylic paints, and I did two paintings, photos of which I've put at the top of this posting.

I am an artist. I have been since I was a child, but I'm not the type of artist that feels compelled to paint constantly and in great quantities. I will paint for awhile, maybe two or three paintings, and then won't do any for years. When I lived in New Mexico I was probably the most active; it is an inspiring place, perfect for an artist. Since I came back to Ohio in 1995, I hadn't picked up a paintbrush until the beginning of this year, even though I had one particular subject in mind for years. The photo you see at the top of this post is of that painting. (The bottom photo is of the Taos Pueblo, a 4' x 5' monster that I did for my youngest daughter, special order.) :)

I wanted to do something involving an old trailer park...I have no idea where that came from....but it haunted me ever since I first came back here to Ohio from New Mexico. My youngest daughter Janeen and I drove around one day in the not-so-nice part of town finding old parks and taking pictures of the rattiest trailers and broken down cars. I wanted the painting to have a feeling of the 1940's, and a bit of desolation,I wanted it to be in the desert, and I wanted the name of the trailer park to be "Sunset Trailer Park".

I had a sort of idea in mind of how I wanted it to look, but when I began to paint it, the brush may have been in my hand, but it took on a life of its own and I found myself just along for the ride.

I had no title in mind while I was working on it, and when it was all finished, I looked at it for awhile and knew the only title that would fit was "Her Dad's Guardian".

The man in the painting is a nod to my deceased ex-husband, and the dog is my own sweet little Poppy who loved him and followed him everywhere...she was his guardian. She was probably the only being in his life who loved him absolutely unconditionally...as our dogs do, God bless them!

My ex had his issues with alcohol. It took everything away from him...everything...including his life. It was a long, slow, painful path of destruction, and extremely sad for all of us who loved him to watch. He was very alone all his life..it didn't matter how many people loved him; it didn't matter how many people he surrounded himself with, he was alone. There was something inside him that wouldn't allow him to be happy or successful. He would head towards something good, some success..and hit a brick wall in his mind and turn back onto that path of destruction. He would do outrageous things to loved ones that would push us away, while reaching for us at the same time. I think we all felt like yo-yos..and the string finally broke, as a well-worn string tends to do.

Some things just can't be repaired.

Anyway, when I painted the man in the picture, and the dog, I knew who they were. It was the painting I had to do; the one that wouldn't allow me to dismiss it, and the one that told a story that had to be told.

The painting lives in my oldest daughter's home now. When she saw it she immediately laid claim to it; it spoke to her as it did to me, and I'm glad it's with her...I think she understands where it came from.