SHORTCUTS

My mother said I was lazy. Well, what kid likes chores or picking up after themselves. She'd send me to my room and I'd pick up a book to put away and end up sitting down to read it. Didn't matter that I'd read it a number of times. Duties, responsibilities, chores... you name it, I didn't want to have anything to do with it.

As I grew older, I buckled down under what had to be done. I had my children early and they were pretty much out of the nest by the time I reached 30. It was about then that I really started realizing who I was and I started reaching out beyond my narrow world. I wanted to get out of the factory and do something more with my life. My dreams grew.

I listened to lots of audio tapes and read many self help books. I went to massage school and took various classes and seminars. I studied and became certified to teach Healing Tao so that I could teach Tai Chi. I rebuilt my self from bits and pieces of all of that which fueled the fires in my soul.

BUT... I didn't want to do things as I was taught. There always seemed to be such rigamarole. My mother wanted me to be a painter, but I refused to follow the classic styles. I soon became disillusioned with massage because of state pettiness with licensing. I loved Tai Chi, but wasn't interested in past history or traditions. I just couldn't immerse myself in one discipline!

What did that mean? That meant I didn't want to play by someone else's rules. I couldn't follow only one belief system. There are so many good techniques and ideas out there, how can I narrow myself down to one formula? When I moved out of my narrow world, I REALLY opened up!

I began taking bits and pieces of what I believed and developed my own style. I took various healing techniques and created my own routine. My art work became a combination of mediums. I chose one of the Tai Chi forms that I'd learned and worked deeper. Then I began weaving one discipline into another.

I am not a traditionalist. I don't care what happened hundreds of years ago in China or that the particular form came from so and so. What I want to know is how the movements can help in our lives today, here where we are now, in this country. I mean no offense to the traditionalists, but I am not Chinese and never will be, so what I have done is to take the style and create my own form of teaching it.

I take shortcuts. Okay, as Americans most of us want the quick and easy. If it works, why not? I tell my students the intricacies, those things that I figured out on my own. I talk about things that I had been told was only for "advanced students." I want my students to love Tai Chi and make it part of themselves for the rest of their lives. I've seen too often that when it takes too long to "get it," a person will go off and find something else where they will get a more immediate reward.

There's nothing wrong with shortcuts if the end result is positive. I also believe in promoting creativity and individual style. I will teach a more traditional move, but if a person's body style, age, or illness prevents them from doing it accurately, I'm not going to tell them they are wrong. We can adapt the form; after all, we are not in competition. What matters is the movement of energy and working towards better health.

Maybe it's because I enjoy many avenues of life that I look for shorter routes so that I can move on to other things. There's some constants in my life--- Tai Chi, writing, art, healing--- but because I do have fun with so much, I don't want to narrow myself. I take a little of this, some of that, and maybe a bit more of this over here. I pull in the ideas that resonate with me and leave behind that which doesn't ring true.

Mostly though, I feel I have so much within me, that I need to work on it awhile before I "learn" anything new... and not that I'm not learning. It's just that I can learn so much from what I already know. Take Tai Chi, for instance, and again, no offense to the teacher, but we would learn one form after another. You wouldn't even get a chance to really WORK with one form before another would be taught. Sure, you could say, "I know eight Tai Chi forms," but what good is that if you haven't gone deep and really learned what the Tai Chi does? It's like reading book after book and when asked what you've read, you can spout off lines, but if you haven't taken the teaching into your soul, what have you really learned?

So I take the shortcuts to learn the fundamentals. Then I let it stew within and it awakens. It merges with other teachings and beliefs and develops into strengths that I can take out into the world. This is me. It's the little bits and pieces that I have gathered that have helped me discover who I really am and then I go deeper... or is it that I expand...

True enlightenment may only be two or three lifetimes away, ha ha.

NOTHING ON MY MIND? C'MON, YA GOTTA BE KIDDING.

I feel blank today. Not that I don't have anything on my mind, it's just that there's not really anything that flows. Time constraints are blockages to the muse. I have to put her on hold. She won't even put in an appearance--- or she will wait til I am in the middle of something, then show up. For this moment, however, I struggle to put a few words together--- how unusual is that!

Perhaps it's in self-defense. With all that is happening, and sometimes when things happen it's with a bang, my brain is saying no more. I need to re-group; get my act together which means I need to pull back and even though I can't avoid scheduled appointments, I can refuse to take on anything else at this time.

I don't like feeling this busy; makes everything in my head feel jumbled. I want to be more organized and focused and when there's too much going on, I cannot concentrate. I feel du'uh (good thing I don't drool, ha ha.)

I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. I did ask for this and I was the one who took on this schedule. I recognize when I need to step back. I'm the one who is trying to simplify life so when it gets too hectic, I will stop, but there are these things that I need to do to achieve my goals.

Maybe it goes back to my being a jack-of-all-trades because it gets me involved in too many things. It's my choice to be this way. I happen to enjoy many aspects of this life and I'm not willing to give any of it up. I have to put myself out there if I want to... be seen... have my book read... sell drawings and art work... Of course, though, I have to ask myself the question of how hard am I willing to work to achieve these goals.

The past showed dabbling and playing. I didn't make much of an effort. I let myself be lazy. (Still do.) But there's something within me that has a different drive, something that feels more refined. I am recognizing what is real talent and what is simple fooling around with objects. Perhaps, too, I am becoming more confident in these abilities that criticism doesn't sound so harsh. If I run up against a roadblock, I will look for another way around it. (It may be slow, but still, I'm looking.)

I am forging ahead. I have more determination than ever. I am willing to accept advice. Oh, I may moan and groan, but I am trudging forward. I'll take time to stop and smell the roses and I'll still enjoy the paths that I travel.

Oh, happy journeys.

DISAPPOINTMENT AND OWNING UP TO YOUR ROLE IN IT

This morning, I am thinking about how one disappointment can bring your whole world down, how one or two little instances can darken everything else. Shoulders slump, feet drag, you feel drained, and become cranky. Why has this happened and whose fault is it?

It's no one's fault. Life just hands us--- difficulties and it doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. Pressure and tension can make you vulnerable, feelings are easily hurt, and you walk on the edge of emotions where the slightest slip will cause you to fall into the abyss. Here is my current story:

Generally, life is good to me. My goal for this year has been to put myself out there with my writing and my art work. With that resolution, things began happening. I did sell some of my books which made me extremely happy. I got most the framing done on my charcoal drawings and have them hung on the walls. Each month that I do the LSSC newsletter, it gets better and goes out to more people. I am keeping up with this blog almost every day.

Sounds like things are going well, right? Yes, they are... BUT things come up that make me slip backwards and what I notice is that the slippage is due to attitude and how I am feeling in that moment. It can be caused by anything; a criticism, family issues, health, feeling overwhelmed...

Ahhh, feeling overwhelmed... hmmm, yes. Sometimes when things move, they move fast. I put myself out there and there is a good response. People liked my book, I have been asked to join a community artists group, I have taken on more LSSC responsibility because I like to write, I'm getting praise for my charcoal drawings, and the Healer's Group is growing stronger. Whew, I feel I have gone from being a total nobody to someone in demand and my head is spinning.

Then came the...bubble burst. My son called to talk about the artists date I had promised my grandson. Oops, how am I going to fit that into my busy week? I have Thursday totally clear. He can't do Thursday only Friday. Uh oh, I have Tai Chi and a healing booked. I'm only free in the afternoon and that doesn't work for me picking Vedin up in Concord.

I can't go back on my promise to my grandson so I was told that the only answer was for me to go there. I crashed. I was really looking forward to an artists day with my grandson, a one on one with his grammie. I have all the supplies here and we could have chosen what to work with. I could have brought him for a snowmobile ride and out to lunch somewhere.

Because of the circumstances, there has to be a compromise. I can't get angry at my son as we have to work within time frames of vacation and other commitments.

I should have called a couple weeks ago and arranged time. Now we have to settle for what we can get.

So now, I will pack up some drawing supplies and go to their house Friday afternoon. The choices on what I can carry are limited. We won't have a one on one as the other kids will be around. I will have to work in their environment with interfering noises. Space will be limited. I have to buck up and do it.

There is something good in this. I have not been to the house for quite awhile and will get to see the results from the renovations. I'll see the other grandsons AND I will get to see my NEW granddaughter for the first time. That's really exciting.

However, the dark cloud still hovers over me. Why is that? Okay, I have to admit there's a control issue. Yes, I did want to control the situation by having the art date here. I'm also lazy and will try to get out of going anywhere. It takes over an hour to get to their house which doesn't give much time for art after greetings and all. I also have to say that with everything going on right now, I am feeling overwhelmed and busy. I am the one that booked these appointments this week.

So, let's look at this further. Why have I let this one incident dampen my spirits? Ah, it pushes me out of my comfort zone. I like one on ones with the grandchildren because I don't like being around multiple kids. I love them all dearly but when they are all around, I get a little rattled. Plus, I am comfortable in ruts and dragging me out of the house can be difficult. I had a plan in my head of what we would do and that has been blown to bits and I have to come up with new ideas.

I am uncomfortable now, but this is all about me (and I don't like that phrase "all about me" even though it is true.) I've lost control of this week because of the appointments. There are time constraints and rules to follow and others' wishes to consider. However, I don't want to get into the "Woe is me, it's all my fault," either. Choices are made and we have to live by them. I have to shake off these feelings of disappointment and tell myself that it's all for the best. What will be, will be and speaking of appointments, I have to get ready for one now.

It's interesting, though, to look at why we feel the way we do. What sets us off in emotional upheaval and what do we do about it? Me, I write. Sometimes by looking at these issues make me see how... petty... they are. Geez, do what you have to do and get on with it, my inner voice says. Don't think about how disappointed you are, get on with being alive. Yep, I can do that.

At times I feel we're in the middle of a hurricane. The winds are whipping around the house harder than ever. The snow bank along the walkway outside the dining room window looks to be five feet from the wind creating a huge drift. I have to go out in a little while and shovel. I'm not looking forward to it.

Got in some great snowmobiling this weekend going out both days. Adam came up with Megan on Saturday and Don and Carol showed up. Henry came over with a helmet for Megan to borrow. Turned out to have purple and pink just like her snow suit. Henry drives a 2-up so he easily carried Megan and after adjusting hats and helmet so she could see, we were ready to be off.

Took a break on Lake Todd to allow Megan a chance to drive the machine. That girl showed no fear and took off across the lake with Adam following on Carol's sled. Henry graciously let Adam take his machine so that Megan could ride with her dad. We continued on to Sutton. Megan was having a blast and when she was periodically asked if she wanted to go back, would declare, "Keep going!" We reached King Hill??? near sunset and the view was spectacular. It was an awesome ride and we were out longer than planned. Adam and Megan enjoyed themselves.

Yesterday Don and Carol came back up with her brother, Dan. Henry also joined us and we headed to the Groomer Rodeo in Washington. After trying to eat a half raw burger, we decided to make the loop through Pillsbury. Tim and Kevin joined us and that made a nice-sized group. The trail from Eccards to the Washington store was a washboard and that uncooked hamburger wasn't settling well on my stomach, but once we reached groomed trails, I was better. I was disappointed that we didn't stop on one of the ponds so I could get pictures of everyone zooming around.

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed the riding. It was snowing quite heavily by the time we got back. As soon as the groomers get out, the trails will be awesome. For me, though, I have shoveling and snowblowing to look forward to... yea...awwww. It always looks like it'll be fun but once I get out there, ugh, especially when the wind blows the snow back onto the paths. Such as it is. We live in New England. At least it is pretty again.

OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS AGAIN

"We'd like you to do a showing at the library for April, May, and June," she said but when I also suggested a poetry reading, she was more interested in a talk with self-published authors. My poor simple brain couldn't quite grasp the intent. It's a library, why wouldn't they want a poetry reading?

Then "Art Show" hit me. Oh, my God, it's finally going to happen... and in a month! She was rattling on about photographs and how I would have to do all the hanging on April 4th and 5th. Photographs? What about charcoal drawings and notecards? She made a comment on the subjects tying together and that nothing can be sold at the library. My mind was brought up short but the chattering and near panic took over.

I calmed myself by asking what she had in mind for the self-published authors' talk and she suggested that I come up with a forum. She also told me that I needed to come up with a title for both the show and the forum and as we talked, my mind reeled.

My printer isn't working right. How am I going to print more pictures? What photographs would go with my charcoal landscapes? What about the poetry and my book? Notecards, poetry-photo cards, etc... There's so much to get ready.

I am excited and in panic. There is so much that I don't know. I'm not even sure how to hang anything... let alone have things ready to hang. I need to have titles for all my pieces with a short descriptions. I need to choose which photos I want to display, get them printed and framed. I need to come up with a display for the cards. Arrgghhhh!

A COMPLICATED LIFE

I am searching for a word... contradiction came up, but that's not correct... ah, it's complicated.

I wanted to simplify my life, drop out of things I was uncomfortable doing and concentrate more on what I liked. I began to avoid people who didn't know how to be happy and were always full of drama. I wanted to surround myself with those who worked at making their lives better and looked at situations with a positive attitude. I refused to watch the news or read the newspapers because I did not want to get caught up in all the misery of the world. I was the one who wanted to move to the mountains and become a hermit.

And so my world narrowed. Not such a bad thing, but after pulling in all the boundaries, it was time to move out again. I got out in the community a little bit. I agreed to teach Tai Chi at the Center. I became involved with a writing group. I joined the local snowmobile club, became secretary whose duties were to attend two meetings a month. Then I volunteered to write articles for the state snowmobile newspaper and put together the club's newsletter. I agreed to attend another meeting.

I enjoy what I am doing, but I have lost some of that simplicity that I tried so hard to attain. Now there are appointments to keep, meetings to attend, and deadlines to make. I decided to do the Tai Chi class twice a week and the bi-weekly healers group has become weekly. I have become responsible again for more than just myself and the days fly by. (And this isn't even mentioning any family considerations.)

So, what do I mean by responsible for more than myself? When Ma and I first moved here, my only responsibilities were to her and the house. As I said, I'd narrowed my world, but as I began to become involved with others, the focus shifted from here to out there. I made a commitment when I joined the club and became more active in other pursuits and that commitment is putting me back out into the stress filled environment I tried to get away from.

Right now, I need to be very aware of my position in this scheme of things. I am at the end of my comfort zone and becoming a member of the new artists group has me really considering this venture. However, I call myself an artist and that means I need to become part of that community. It's time to promote my work and, hopefully, this will allow future income.

I have heard, in two different instances, to "Just choose one," and "Choose one art form and stick with it." I can see the point, but I struggle with this because there are so many interesting things to do... how can anyone just choose one? When there is so much to enjoy, how can I pick only one? Maybe it's just my lot in life to be a jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none. Then again, maybe I can be a master at enjoying life with all that it throws at me.

My dream of becoming a hermit and living simply has fallen by the wayside. I can't be a hermit anyway--- I like comfort too much. Still, I can remain very aware of what I want to do and be able to say no when the need arises. Hmmm, maybe it's time to sit down and define myself again...

INTIMIDATION OR INSPIRATION

"Artists are intimidated by other artists," she said and a light bulb went off in my head. This is a subject that definitely needs some thought. Would healers be any different? Well, healing is an art and I know in our discussions, this topic has come up.

In my writing this morning, I thought about how I would feel if someone else came into the area doing charcoal landscapes. On one hand, I would feel upset that my territory has been invaded and that person would definitely be better than I, but on the other hand, the artist needs encouragement. As human beings, it is important to be creative and I know this deep in my soul. What happens when someone's art work is criticized? What happens to a child who is told that her drawing isn't very good? How can we do that to one another?

Could it be that one of our jobs as artists is to hold that inner child and tell her that her work is worth it? Should we be supporting any type of art in spite of personal opinions? And what about our own work? We want our work to be in the fore front. We want everyone to love our pieces and buy them... and if they are purchasing someone else's work, they are not looking at ours.

I am easily intimidated by other artists, by other healers. Can my work ever hold up to theirs? In the back of my mind is always the thought, "they are better than I." Is that a fair assumption? Absolutely not! So why do we suffer these feelings?

I don't think art is supported very well. Yes, there are the wonderful artisans shows, but art around here doesn't have the... respect... that it does in New York or Paris. Our society (schooling) doesn't support artists. Art is often the first programs taken out of schools when there are cutbacks. Oh, I am not saying this well today. It's that we are not taught art appreciation. We, as a society, are not shown the difference between buying a pretty picture at Walmart and owning a piece of fine art. Or we are told that fine art is unaffordable.

The art of creativity is fluid; it changes and moves. Styles are different. Mediums mix. An artist puts a piece of her soul into every creation. Healing techniques are like that, too. Even when there has been formal training, individuality comes forth.

Criticism is the knife that cuts to the heart. A cruel word can crush souls. When someone has put themselves into their work then any form of negativity can be damaging to the psyche. Is harsh criticism really necessary?

Oh, don't tell me things like, "It will make you stronger," or the criticism "will make you a better artist." I don't believe it. Maybe because I am refusing to run my life on negativity. If I feel really good about a piece, what right should anyone have to step on that bit of joy?

I heard someone say once that "bad art shouldn't be allowed out there." How much of this really matters? Who determines what is bad and what is good? IS it all just personal opinion or who has been formally trained? Perhaps it's the difference between looking at a piece and not understanding the artist and having an explanation into the process of making the particular creation.

I apologize, my friends, for this rough draft today. I'm off to Tai Chi.

FEELING OVERWHELMED

I have a heavy TO DO list and am feeling a bit overwhelmed. I'm only about half way through the editing of the 300 pictures I took on Saturday. That's a slow and tedious process but at least I am feeling better about the photos. I've deleted the bad ones and now that the others are being cropped, the shots look pretty good. Hopefully others will agree.

I also have people waiting to see photos that were taken the previous week while out snowmobiling. I got them edited, but not into an album format that I do for family. The album can also be a tedious task as it takes time to arrange and size the pictures to the pages. Then I will have to print four copies.

More snowmobile club work will be in typing up minutes to the last Trails Meeting... which I'd like to get done before Thursday's BOD. It's also time to start working on the newsletter. The club printer got delivered yesterday so I will be able to put out many copies to snail-mail to club members without internet access. I'll have to fold and staple pages, print address labels, and place stamps on over 60 copies... maybe Ma will help.

And what about bills? Have I managed to get them paid this month? Only the ones I do on-line. We had another oil delivery yesterday and I haven't written the check for the last one, yet. When will I ever learn! Every month I say that I will write the check the moment the bills come, but I still set them aside and next thing I know, another month has passed. I keep saying that someday I'll learn, but you know what they say about someday--- "and some daaay never comes."

I agreed to be part of a new artists group being started in town and we have a first meeting this afternoon. (Like I need to take on anything else.) I haven't come up with any ideas. I have a foot massage appointment right afterwards and tonight is another Healers' Meeting. Tomorrow and Friday mornings are Tai Chi and I have to fit grocery shopping in sometime for the dinner group Friday.

Do I sound like I'm whining? Sorry. I'm my own worst enemy, I know. There's plenty of time during the day and whose fault is it if I sit and play games with Ma or read or watch tv? I make these choices in my life and I find it kind of interesting that I keep making the same "mistakes." It's not that I don't know or am not aware. I know these bills are due and I will still set them aside. I agree to be on these committees and enjoy doing the work. I love the Tai Chi and energy work and the sharing of healing information.

I'm so lucky that I don't have to leave the house to go to a "real" job. How would I ever get anything done? (Ha ha.)

What do you do during times of feeling overwhelmed?

A PHOTOGRAPHER'S NIGHTMARE

Saturday was clear, but oh, so cold. I looked out across the ice and did not feel like walking half way across the lake to where I would take pictures. I could see people slipping and sliding while they worked to set up the Radar Run starting line. Ever since that fall I took a few years ago, I am petrified of falling.

I pulled my hoodie over my head and tied my hat over that. I find people are not quick to help those who are not young, skinny, and pretty but I finally took the courage to ask one of the guys to take me out on his ATV. He asked someone else to do and after trouble with the machine, that one asked a third.

The spot chosen was on sheer wind polished ice. There wasn't any way I could move around without falling. I was offered the use of the machine. He said he didn't need it and after showing me the controls, went on his way. Oooh, my first time driving an ATV with a quad track. Very cool!

I positioned the machine so I could get a good view of the racers. The wind was fierce and coming straight at me. One of the cones blew down the track and debris would periodically come whipping across the ice. I wondered how long I could stay out there when one of the guys came driving up in a SUV.

"Would you rather sit in here?" I was hesitant because of visibility, but with that wind, I'd be a fool to say no. Of course I took him up on his offer. I moved the ATV and he backed in. We swapped vehicles. I let the engine run a few minutes to get warm and put the window down far enough that I could stick the camera out.

There was some time before contestants came to the line. I wished I'd brought my flute. I had a radio and could hear others calling to each other. Was I the only one alone? That realization made me feel like an outsider.

Finally, though, they were ready. "This one wants a picture," would be called down to me but I ended up taking photos of everyone. After an hour, someone came out for the photo card and I began using the other camera. Later he brought me a burger and fries and I wolfed those down hardly tasting them. The warmth felt good.

I sat by myself for three hours snapping picture after picture of the same people making multiple runs. There were times when the wind would blow chips of ice through the open window. The SUV would shake. I was very glad that I was not standing outside. Finally the second photographer came to take over and she opted to stand on the other side of the track and did not want to sit in the vehicle. I called it quits and drove off the lake.

The pictures were downloaded onto a laptop and a slide show set up. I was leery as I like to crop and edit the pictures to get the best of the scenes, but we also wanted to show people with hopes they'd want to purchase copies. I left when that was set up and headed home.

Yesterday I downloaded the pictures on my computer. Oh no! How horrible! And to think this was set up as a slide show for people to see? I am soooo embarrassed! I began the tedious task of cropping. Yes, this made the photos much better, but I am still not happy. I have to consider, though, that there are crowds at these kinds of events and it's near impossible to get pictures without something in the background. Still, I should have known better.

The worst is knowing that people saw bad photography. This isn't anything like I normally do. I can blame the cold and the wind. If I had felt safe to move around on the ice, I could have chosen a better spot. Still, these are no excuses. I knew which side of the track I had wanted to be on and they had said I could move, but I stayed at the first spot. I let the cold, ice, and wind disrupt my focus and now I pay for it. Yes, I am embarrassed and ashamed... but I'll get over it.

I can only hope that I can recoup some of my integrity with the edited photos posted to the LSSC website.

The wind howls and rattles the screens making viscious sounds like angry wolves trying to get in. The noise dies and I wait as it creeps around the house searching for another way to get to me. I pull my wrap tighter. In the moments of silence, the crows and blue jays fill the void with their raucous calls. I need to go out and rescue the fallen bird feeders but I choose to sit here in the warmth.

Today I take Ma to the urologist. I hope they take that catheter out--- so does she, although she has loved having people wait on her. She doesn't like it when I try to get her up and moving around. She called Mags, her twin sister, yesterday and Mags was trying to talk her into moving into the nursing home so they could be together and "have fun." Mags was having a good day, alert and pain free.

My mind is kind of quiet this morning. I have Tai Chi in a little while so I need to keep an eye on the time. I cannot get involved in any projects, though there's still lots to be done. I need to get back to making some notecards as I do sell quite a few of those. Somehow I still can't wrap my mind around how to actually promote them, group them, advertise them.

One thing I did accomplish yesterday was framing two more drawings. I had received my other order, but I still seem to be missing the mat for the Milkweed Pods. I don't know why I'm not getting that one done! I have measured it numerous times. Hey, at least I have two more pictures ready to go up on the wall.

Got a different frame with this latest group and I'll have to see which I like better. I also received the replacements for the items that were damaged and will have to work with those. I'm really pleased with how they look when hung and can't wait to get the remainder of the original drawings on the wall. Then I can start new drawings.

This has given me time to consider the technique of the originals. I definitely like the smaller drawings better. That might be because I tend to have more open space in the larger--- the ones that fit into a 16 X 20 frame. My style isn't doing a lot of small detail, but in making an illusion of detail which really shows in the drawings which fit into 11 X 14 frames.

One of the things that I find very interesting is that I can make multiple drawings from looking at one photograph and each will look different although the place can still be recognized. I'd like to keep working a bit more with that concept, yet there are so many more drawings to do using other pictures. I'm even considering doing a scene and adding a snowmobile to it and donating the drawing to the local snowmobile club. I want to do one of those for my brother for Christmas next year (meant to this past year, but never got around to it.)

Hey, maybe I could even do consignments. I could lay out a few different backgrounds and people could choose which one to have their snowmobiler drawn on. Because it's a charcoal drawing, it wouldn't be a portrait per se because there would be a shadow image and no real details of the person making the drawings generic... kind of. Hmmm, still thinking this out.

Well, I'm off to other things. Wish Ma and I luck today. She's been feeling really good the past two days except for having that catheter. Let's hope she gets a clean bill of health.

It's raining and the snow is melting. The distant trees are shrouded in fog and creep into my senses like an eerie apparition. This is just a tease before another cold front steps in. Yesterday I went outside in my barefeet to feed the birds. I've a lot to do today so have to keep a close watch on the time. Have to be out of the house by 8:15; chiropractor, then shopping. I don't like shopping.

The crows are hollering. I have nothing to give them this morning. They are funny. I love how they look so regal and will sit side by side in the tree and kiss each other.

I've been playing around with Facebook. Not quite sure what's going on with it. I did manage to talk to my granddaughter in Wichita Kansas and wish her a happy birthday. Facebook kind of seems like a kid thing, but I do see that there are older people, too. Well, if nothing, I can be in contact with my Kansas Kids. Yea!

Working on snowmobile stuff. I'm not much into riding, but I do enjoy the meetings and taking notes. I am also now doing the club newsletter and will write articles for the state rag, Sno-Traveler. It's an interesting experience because they talk about trails and I have no idea where those trails are, they mention people I've not met, and go on about equipment using terms with which I am unfamiliar. Still, I like it and my writing skills are something that I can offer, such as they are.

I've not been able to accomplish much these past mornings. The hours are too few and once I go downstairs and Ma is up, I cannot seem to get my butt back up here to work. It's like I have this idea in my head that I cannot do any work after noon time and will try to schedule everything for morning--- classes, appointments, shopping--- plus I try to fit in my writing and art work.

Hmmm, I sense an issue here... or is it just laziness. I don't like the term "lazy." My mother called me that all time while I was growing up. Am I REALLY lazy or do I simply choose what I want to do? I choose to write over cleaning house. I choose to sit and play games with her over cleaning house. Well, I could go on saying many things I choose to do over cleaning. Yet, I do get things clean from time to time.

I have to write, there's no doubt about that, just like I periodically have to pick up paint brushes or charcoal sticks. I will sit and play games with Ma because there isn't anything else she'd rather do--- except lie in bed. I put together meals. I do dishes and clean the counters. Gosh, I don't know what I'd do if I had a REAL job and had to leave the house every day.

I am very lucky and say my gratitude prayers every day. I like my life. Oh, there are other things that I'd like to do... and I could do them if I so chose. Right now, however, my goals are to get the LSSC writings organized and saved off the hard drive. I want to keep up with this blog and work a little more with the Facebook (if I can figure out what it really is worth.) Plus, I need to better design my website and links to be more user friendly. I just had it re-done and I think it is too wordy. I need to do something with all my photographs. AND I have to figure out how to pull this together to bring in some income.

My goal is to share what I do and who I am; to open up conversation and dialogue with others who share similar interests. I believe that if I keep working towards this goal and talking about it, it will happen.

DEADLINES

Once more I have waited til the last minute to write an article after saying again that I would not. I am putting it off further, by writing here first. Then again, I have til tomorrow. Why is it that I cannot get things done in a timely manner? I'm the same way with paying bills. If I had all the money I've paid out in late fees, I would be very well off. If I ever sent a birthday card out on time I think the recipient would faint.

So what is it about timing that puts me off? I easily find other things to do. I work on many projects simultaneously bouncing from this to that like a butterfly going from flower to flower. I am easily distracted... and I kind of like being this way.

What do I mean by liking to be this way? It's that I find many things interesting. How can I narrow my focus when there's so much beauty around me? Even as I write here, my eyes keep straying to the window where there are blue jays, chickadees, and crows flying by. I hear a song and I am looking to see what bird is starting his mating call. The sky turns pink and blue and the sun peeks over the tops of the trees while the light reflects on the ice in the road.

I suppose this lack of focus is why my house is seldom clean. I'll start working and get caught up somewhere else. If I take an object downstairs, I'll end up doing something while there or I'll pick up a book or an interesting piece that I found and next thing I know, an hour or so has passed and I've not accomplished what I set out to do.

I have learned not to be angry at myself for these digressions. I want to enjoy life and if I am distracted by the beauty around me, then so be it. I find beauty in many things; from birds, flowers, bits and pieces that I find, words, colors, textures, and patterns. My sacred name is Crying Heart because of how I see this beauty. I want others to notice, too. I want everyone to pay attention to this gorgeous land on which we live.

What are deadlines when there is much joy to be had by taking the time to pay attention; by allowing the soul to breathe, see, touch, listen, and taste. Yes, I made the commitment to writing this article, but I refuse to let the pressure put me in a box with the lid on tight. I'll do my writing with an open heart and when I am able to get the article in on time, then hurray and those times I miss the mark, oops, sorry. No hard regrets. I shall enjoy life as much as I can. Oooh, Yea ya.

WRITING DIALOGUE: FORMAL VS SLANG

Our writing group had a discussion the other day regarding dialogue. In writing a children's story, one woman was told that her dialogue was too formal, that children would not talk like that. We gave some ideas on what a child would say. She brought up the fact that if we do not use proper language when writing, how will a child learn? That's a good question.

It was also mentioned how people have different accents and will use odd idioms from other parts of the country. That reminded me of the time one of the members used the term, "Jeezum crow" in one of her stories and someone else had never heard of it. We had used that line a lot as kids and I hadn't heard it in years. It brought back memories and the feeling of having lived a very narrow life.

Personally, I like some slang when I'm reading because it helps me to get into the characters. You can feel the culture coming through when the writing is able to reflect how that person would be speaking and acting. I find it very interesting to notice the differences. That, in itself, can be a learning experience as we can see how people from other countries will interpret our language and even other English speaking places might make a different pronunciation.

As for teaching children, as long as they are having grammar lessons, they will be learning proper English... 'course they'll might not ever use it, ha ha. A good teacher may even point out the differences by demonstrating lines from a book and comparing them to proper sentence structure.

Story writing is different from formal writing. You probably wouldn't use slang phrases when writing a thesis, for instance. Dialogue, however, might be written along the lines of "I'm gonna go ta the store and git some bread" instead of "I am going to the store to get some bread." The letter g is often dropped off words when speaking... doin', bein', sleepin', walkin'... you get the picture. Of course, it depends on the character, where he is from, etc.

Myself, I go back and forth. The newsletter articles and some of my other writings tend to be more formal whereas my poetry and journaling may sometimes slip into more of how I would actually be speaking. One story I am working on has characters that do speak in more correct terms. There is something, too, about how I hear the words in my head before I write them on the page.

I have to admit, I've been slow in coming into using slang. I used to pride myself on proper grammar, but I have to say, that as time goes on, I tend to forget. My speaking picked up slang and the running of words together. I think it comes from the tendency to try to do everything in a hurry.

That is definitely the trend now-a-days. Hurry, hurry, do it fast, abbreviate and shorten tends to be the norm. Sometimes I fight that. I make myself slow down and I try to write out entire words without chopping them. (Except when I'm writing poetry, of course.) There's that part of me that refuses to buy into this need to quicken life. At meetings, I still take notes long hand and will not use a recorder.

So, when it comes to dialogue, the writer must decide how the characters behave and what the culture is when determining speech patterns. The character needs to be true or the story will not be believable. As I read more biographies and listen to interviews, I notice how much research will go into a project as authors will study places and people in which they plan to create their characters. It is important to them that their creations fit the scenes and that will make the story believable by the readers.

Another day. Had a lot going on yesterday so didn't get a chance to write. Things are calming down a bit--- I hope. Ma's fluids are looking a little more normal this morning, so the bleeding is slowing. I feel I can breathe easier.

Yesterday I had a realization about my "magic pill" theory. The theory is that there are a lot of people, like my mother, who believe that they can go to the doctor and be given a pill to make them feel good or feel like they used to. Ma always says that the doctors are holding out and I keep telling her that there are no magic pills and that YOU have to work at making yourself better. Yesterday, I realized that I, too, have an expectation and that is that people should be healthy when they come home from the hospital. I guess that isn't very realistic. People are sent home all the time who are not in good condition. Oh, well. Reality check.

This morning I chose to sleep later and when I arose, I was thinking about how my mother's plight is overshadowing my joys. Thursday, I was able to hang twelve of my drawings. Wow, did that seem good to finally get them framed and on the walls. They look pretty darn good, too. Then yesterday, we had a fantastic writing group. Our two new member have such a wonderful sense of humor and it was great that Holly felt well enough to join us. Later, two friends came and sat with Ma so I could go snowmobiling with Don, Carol, Henry, and Val. What a joy to get out in the fresh air!

Last night Ma made the comment that she misses having a menu to choose from for her meals. It made me think about how "happy" she appears when in the hospital. She has people waiting on her hand and foot. She has meal choices. There's almost always someone around willing to chat with her. She becomes bright eyed and her spirits rise.

She comes home and it's just her and I and I am not about to sit at her bedside all day or run back and forth getting her things. (Plus she likes her heat up to 90 degrees.) I won't get her medications because she needs to get up and move around, and this gives her an excuse to get out of bed. So her whole demeanor changes. She slumps. Her voice takes on a kind of "oh, woe is me" tone. There's nothing exciting going on here, no dramas in the halls or stories from other patients. (Personally, I think she reads too many love stories where the heroine has servants to do everything right down to laying out the day's clothes.)

There probably will come a time when Ma will have to be waited on, but we're not there yet. There's no reason for her to lay in bed most the day and she'd do a lot better if she got up and moved around. It'd even help her COPD.

Well, it's getting late. I'm going to download some pictures off the cameras. I need to do some snowmobile stuff and people want more cards.

Just when I thought things were headed in the right direction, my belief in the medical profession once more has been dashed into the ground. After a cat scan in the early morning, they did nothing else for Ma. At four thirty last night I got a phone call saying they were sending her home--- catheter still in place.

What?!!! That time of night they decide to send her home? I wasn't a happy camper. Yes, I want her to come home, but come home healthy. I don't like driving at night especially during the afternoon commute, so by the time I got to the hospital, I was not in the calmest of moods.

Ma informed me that the nurse wanted to talk to me to show me how to take care of the urine bag. Let me tell you, inside I was ready to boil over... or burst into tears. Draining and changing the bag isn't rocket science. Of course, every question I had, she couldn't answer. In the end, she asked if I had any questions and I replied, "Not any that you can answer." I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

I don't care! The bleeding hasn't stopped. They only stood her up once in the past four days and she's expected to go home and return to regular life? Another thing is that they only came in once in those four days to help her wash up. Even Ma wasn't happy about that---having the same shirt on since Sunday--- and with drainage and all--- ooh yuck.

Needless to say, I'm snappy and cranky. This whole episode ticks me off. I guess if the doctors don't see a need to perform expensive procedures and surgeries, then you might as well go home--- that way when you get sicker, they can play with their machines and knives. Yep, all this just supports my dis-belief in the medical profession.

Seven degrees outside and I am parked four miles away from the entrance. Hey, at least the truck was warmed up by the time Ma got in. We got home a little after 7 p.m. Ma took one of her pills (one she is supposed to take EVERY day and hasn't had once since Sunday--- and I'd brought them in.) I took care of her things and by then, I was so hungry, my hands were shaking and I still had to change the bag. OOhhh, gross! If I wanted to be a nurse, I would have gone to nursing school!!!

Got that taken care of and the cleaning of the other was taking place. I made a dish of nachos and settled on the couch. It was almost 8:30. Ma went in the bathroom. "There's blood in my undies," she called. Uuggghhh, just what I want to hear while trying to eat. I put my plate down and went to check.

Now what? The liquid in the bag was definitely redder. Got her settled back in bed and when I checked later, she was sound asleep. I went off to bed myself.

Yes, I am angry, very. And upset. I don't usually get grossed out by things but I am really grossed out about this. Guess it goes to show that I can view from a distance, but to get close and have to touch---eeewwwww. I can't imagine doing this for a week. (She has to make an appointment to see the urologist in a week. They couldn't do it last night because by the time they sent her home, it was after hours.) I feel like throwing a temper tantrum like a little kid. Or maybe I'll just plain throw up.

I think about this anger. I could choose not to be angry, I know. I am choosing to be angry and in doing so, I have to look at why. I don't want to be a nurse nor do I want to be someone's servant. No offense, Ma, but I remember her saying to Margaret (her twin,) "Maggie, get me a Pepsi," "Maggie, make me some toast," and "Maggie, go get the mail." And that was when she was healthy.

I know I have issues with "servant," "serving," "waiting on." I used to work in a stock room where I had to wait on people coming to the window and get them their supplies. This was when my anger first came out. Perhaps that had come from many years of holding back. Anyway, there was something about people asking me to get them things that triggered an angry response. (Guess quitting that job didn't take care of the issue, ha ha.)

I have to also admit that there is a little guilt of not being a good daughter because I don't want to do those things for my mother. The anger sets in. I'm afraid that I will start to resent and hate her because I have to do these "gross" things. Okay, okay, I know I should be tapping on this stuff, but I have to go do other things. I have to get her taken care of before my morning Tai Chi class.

Arrrgghhh, get me through this!!!

I also realize that the anger hides the fear. I don't want to lose my mother. I'm not ready to be alone.

But all this aside, I have a ton of questions. A year or so ago, Ma was diagnosed with polycysistic kidney disease--- but it's nothing to really worry about at her age, though her children (meaning Don and I) should be checked. Nothing else has been said about it. Then she is being treated for a urinary tract infection--- but the doctor in the hospital doesn't know why because he saw no signs of it. Yet her bladder filled to near bursting, she had blood clots, and leakage and consistant issues with her abdomen. Hello? Is any of this related? It's like they are treating today's issue only without considering what's been going on all along. 'Course, I'm not a doctor, but we are just not getting any answers.

We were told there were no available beds in either Concord or Dartmouth. Here was my mother, bleeding, having had a blood transfusion, and they still couldn't get her to a place where she could get the specialized care that she needed. I couldn't help but fear that she would die while waiting to get that help.

The 96 year old lady in the next bed had gone home so I pulled the chair near that bed closer to Ma who told me that the urologist had just left. He wanted her in Concord and stated that HE'D get her a bed. I sure hoped so.

Oh, I could have easily gone to sleep. After chatting with Ma an hour and a half, I figured I'd go home. The nurse came in announcing that they had a bed in Concord, but she had gotten a phone call at the same time saying not to count on it. However, five minutes later she was back with two LPNs with bags to gather up Ma's stuff. "Get ready, you're going," JoJo announced and by the time I was walking down the hall, the guys were wheeling a stretcher into Ma's room.

It was as if a huge load was taken off my shoulders. Ma would be taken care of and they will find out what has been causing her problems. She will come home!

Another cold day. I went off to a meeting last night and never heard from the hospital or Ma. Don and Carol were going to see her which was good and would please Ma. I'll call in a little bit to find out her room number and what and when the procedure will be. Outside of feeling really tired this morning, I do feel a lot better about this whole episode. Maybe I can get a little extra work done around the house this morning, although I should take a run to the nursing home in Newport to visit my aunt Margaret, my mom's twin. I haven't wanted to tell her about Ma because I've not wanted to worry her--- though twins will know things.

I'll have to push myself today. I've had this opportunity to get things done and I've not been motivated. It's hard, too, when time has to be split running back and forth to the hospital. Perhaps I can hang some of the newly framed charcoal drawings on the wall. I could dig out the dumpster so I can put in the trash. I might go down stairs to the studio, too. I Should pay the bills or get ready for my writing group on Saturday by printing out and critiquing the writings.

Maybe if I move around, do a little Tai Chi dance, I'll have more ambition. I'd really like to lay down for another hour, but I won't. I'll push and have a good day.

"We can't stop the bleeding," the doctor informed me, "we'll have to transport her to Concord."

I was scared, yet relieved as I don't think that New London has been very good to her. The doctor went on to tell me that as soon as Concord found her a bed, she'd be on her way. I figured I'd scoot over to the hospital to visit.

It was an emotional drive. I put on a good front to Ma, but I am horribly worried. My head ran through various scenarios and I tried to imagine what it will be like to live alone and what would I do for a job. The thought of job hunting at this age is not a pleasant thought. I don't even want to think of not having her here.I kept telling myself to be strong because if she knew I'd been crying, she'd be upset and that's not beneficial to her mental well-being.

"They took my lunch away from me," Ma exclaimed when I walked in. "I can't have anything to eat or drink in case Concord needs to do procedures."

I had brought her a Pepsi and she stole sips of that. I didn't blame her. The air in that place was so dry. I drank my whole 24 oz bottle of water while there and kept my coat. No wonder she has four or five blankets.

The afternoon wore on and we chatted with the 96 year old woman in the next bed. She was doing better than Ma. She was going home.

I left a little after 2 figuring that it wouldn't be long before Ma was transferred to Concord. I also needed to get away because the place had an unpleasant odor. I was supposed to get foot massage at 3 and was really looking forward to it, but when I got home, there was a cancellation message. I crashed... but had to go out and cover snowmobiles that my brother had moved.

I put on boots and struggled out through snow over my knees. When I'd sink in the snow, I couldn't even reach the cover over the top of the machines. My boots filled with snow and my pant legs rode up my calf. I got the machines covered best I could and struggled back through the snow. By then, I was wet up to my thighs. I didn't even bother to change when I got in the house, but made a dish of nachos and settled on the couch with a book. I needed to forget for awhile and didn't feel like talking to anyone.

My brother called around six. He'd just talked to Ma. She was still in New London as a bed couldn't be found in Concord. What?!!! You've got to be kidding me! A hospital without any beds and a woman who is bleeding?

I don't even want to think about the consequences. What's going to happen? She certainly isn't getting the care she needs. What are the alternatives? The doctor had mentioned that Dartmouth is full, too. With this news, my fears escalated.

I am pretty good at putting my trust in God, in the Universe, but I am struggling right now. At 9:30, the phone again rang. You know it can't be good when the phone rings that time of night. It was Ma and the nurse. A blood transfusion was needed--- Jeez, considering she'd been bleeding since midnight Sunday and they hadn't done much to fix it...

Of course, I gave permission. Ma was worried about aids and I assured her that she doesn't need to worry about that. Trust, we need to trust. I know she has lost a lot of blood and something needs to be done. I'm a bit upset about what's going on; not only with her, but in the hospital care.

The urologist from Concord is in New London on Wednesdays. We'll see what happens today. I tell you, though, all this makes me disbelieve in the medical profession even more.

Deep down I know that I have to trust--- and I do--- but I am also realistic. I know that life isn't always flowers and it's been pretty darn good for some time. No matter how much I can prepare, I know that eventually will come the biggest crash of my life so far... and I am not really prepared... don't think anyone can ever really be...

I was wrong. I thought it was just another time when she'd get to the hospital and cheer up and her symptoms would be lessened. This has been such a struggle between my mother and I because every twinge of pain is perceived as an emergency. This time, I am caught by surprise--- and fear. This time, it was a real emergency.

She'd been battling a urinary tract infection since November and this latest rounds of meds made her very nauseated and when Ma gets sick, she panics. Her blood pressure goes up and she gets the dry heaves. She lays in bed worrying about all the disastrous illnesses she might have and thus makes herself worse. When she's nauseated, she cannot take Xanax to calm down.

The ambulance took her away before midnight and I went back to bed. Hey, this goes on at least once a year and last month was another such "cry wolf." I figured that they'd leave her sitting around for five hours and then I would be up and could call and find out what's going on. However, for once, I slept passed my normal time and didn't crawl out of bed until 6 o'clock.

I took my shower, got dressed, made a cup of coffee, and spent time writing. When I deemed it a reasonable hour, I put in a call to the hospital. They had admitted her and I was put through to her room. She sounded good, was bored because she didn't have her reading glasses or anything to read. She told me that they put in a catheter although the doctor in the ER told her that the urine was clear. By the time she was admitted, though, there was some blood. I asked her if she needed me to come soon and she said that she was doing fine and I didn't need to cancel my morning client.

I finally got to the hospital about 1 p.m. She hadn't seen a doctor since being admitted, but he was "making rounds." The room was very small and cramped. There was no place to be without being in someone's way. The LPNs were back and forth between my mother and the other patient. One had to change my mother's bag.

"It looks like that cranberry juice she's been drinking," I said staring at the bag, "Is that what it is?" The woman told me it was blood. Oh, my God... it certainly looked like blood, but how did that happen? Ma stated again that the ER doctor had said her urine was clear and that it didn't get bloody til after they put the catheter in. I tried to pooh pooh it and make like it wasn't a big deal. I cannot let my mother get worried--- she does enough of that without worrying about me being upset.

I hung around over an hour, then had to run errands. I trust that Ma is in good hands even though I doubt her previous treatments. After I'd put groceries away, I settled on the couch with a book. I'd just hung up the phone from giving an update to friends when the phone rang. It was Ma.

"You're not going to like this. It's bad," she began and then told me about a blood clot and what they are doing about it. The nurse happened to come in, so I had her tell me what they are doing, then when I got Ma back on the line, I was upbeat and telling her everything is going to be fine, yadda yadda. She has to keep her spirits up and cannot get panicky.

Later, the doctor called. With his prognosis, I am more worried. But I have to believe everything will work out okay. He said that what happened is that she had a blockage in her urinary tract and that caused the bladder to overfill. (But how can that be when she's been going to the bathroom A LOT for the past two months and has to wear Depends because she is leaking all the time?) When the bladder becomes too full, the walls become weak, then with the insertion of the catheter, there became damage which caused the bleeding. Her kidneys have failed because of this. They put in a different kind of catheter that will allow a clear solution to flush the bladder with hopes that the bleeding will be cleared and stopped and with that, the kidneys should kick in.

I said something about this going on since November with the urinary infection and he replied that in looking back through her records, he cannot see anything to prove there ever was a urinary infection. (So what was she being treated for? What the H is going on, has been going on?) He went on to say that the urologist will be in on Wednesday and he will have seen the report. Ma may have to have an operation and may have to be transferred to Concord.

I think of all the suffering she has gone through the past few months and I am not pleased with the treatment she has received. I definitely won't be bringing her back to her PC! Dr.Weber never once gave Ma an exam, almost seemed to be afraid to touch her. This should never have gone on this long. Ma is not the best of patients, for sure, but she deserves better. And now an issue needs to come to an emergency for anyone to pay attention.

I have to remain calm. I cannot let my emotions get out of hand and I certainly need to remain upbeat around Ma. I have a lot of questions that I'm sure won't be answered. In the long run, doctors have to protect themselves and will stick up for each other. I also have to realize our part in this. Ma refuses to see specialists. She is stubborn about what she will take for medications.

My own attitudes are just as stubborn regarding doctors. I don't think they are looking out for their patients. Medical care is now too much of a business... but this isn't the time to go into that. I don't want to lose my mother. She is not ready to go, yet, it is not necessary. Yes, she is her own worst enemy, but she still has some good life left--- if she can get the proper medical care.

We'll see how it goes. I've got my fingers crossed and I'm praying.

THE MUSE AND INTERRUPTIONS

The muse is upon me even before I get out of bed in the morning. She is chattering in my head while I get showered and dressed. She is impatient as I make my coffee and she is not happy until I am at my writing desk.

I love the early mornings and there is a specialness about the pre-dawn. The muse is eager to tell me of stirrings in the night only I don't quite have the language. Instead, I pull out issues from my own soul as she breathes fire on them and the more I write, the more active my brain becomes. The fire roars and I often jump from one subject to another as ideas ebb and flow like the tide.

In those moments of gushing creativity I am totally alive and my poor fingers cannot capture all the thoughts crashing like a wave over my head. I can only catch a few drops before I am dry and done for the day.

Mornings are my joy, my breath of life. When I get those feelings of "done," I am done and nothing can call the muse back. Happiness fills me and no matter what else I do the rest of the day, I have had my time.

Mornings also happen to be the time when my mother cannot stand to be alone. Even though she's on medications, she is often upset and panicky when she awakes. She wants conversation and company. I am cranky to be called from the muse because the muse will not tolerate the loss of full attention. Both demand my time simultaneously.

If I give in to my mother, the muse slips away and sometimes won't completely return for a day or more. If I give in to the muse, then my attention is split between the writing and the worry about my mother. Both are demanding of my time and both have their ways of "punishing" me if I don't give them their due.

But I love my life! I love life. I am grateful for so many things; to so many people. I have made the choice to be here in this space and this time. I want to celebrate what comes, no matter what. Tears and joy go hand in hand. I am thankful that the muse returns time after time and I appreciate my mother in all her glory and trappings.

And I love the mornings before dawn. Evergreens and field, mountain and changing skies draw my eyes and my wandering mind. My attention returns to page and with a sigh, fingers move and colors emerge.

Enjoy today, my friends. Laugh and cry and live!