Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Performance Evaluation

I was thinking about the goals/plans I made for 2014, and wondered if I came close to realizing them. I found the list in a blog from a year ago:


In 2014, I will.....
Learn my camera! Take awesome pictures!
See lots of local professional theater
Hear lots of symphony
Go to an opera
Cook delectable new dishes
Have massages
Host dinner parties
Work on my shabby chic urban prairie projects
Ride my bike across Mackinac Bridge with my love
Laugh with my nieces and nephews
Paint my kitchen cabinets
Plant a garden
Strum
Sing
Dance
Ski
Ice Skate
Travel
Read amazing books
Write good books
Write a fantastic play
Let go of all that shit
Learn new shit

Results:
Learn my camera! Take awesome pictures!
See lots of local professional theater
Hear lots of some symphony
Go to an opera a ballet
Cook delectable new dishes
Have massages
Host dinner parties
Work on my shabby chic urban prairie projects
Ride my bike across Mackinac Bridge with my love 
Laugh with my nieces and nephews
Paint my kitchen cabinets
Plant a garden
Strum
Sing
Dance
Ski
Ice Skate
Travel
Read amazing books
Write good books
Write a fantastic play
Let go of all that shit
Learn new shit

Performance Grade: Pretty Darn Good

Areas for Growth Opportunities:


  • Should I just stop putting "ski" on my list? I felt the need to do that several years ago when I equated living a crazy schedule of crazy things with contentment, but here's a secret. I don't love skiing. I'm not even sure I like it. It scares the shit out of me, and I forced myself to do it, and I'm glad I went, but I am done! New goal for 2015: Do not put "Ski" on my "Goals for 2015" list.

  • It's not of vital importance that another year has passed and you have not skated on ice. What I said above.

  • You did not learn how to actually use your fancy schmancy camera and you are hereby shamed. You are now required to put it on your list for 2015, with interest penalty.

  • You really couldn't help not being able to the Mackinac Bridge thing, but don't strike it from 2015 just yet.

  • Should you consider forgetting about all that learning how to play guitar shit and learn how to be macho? 

  • Can you just admit the truth that you don't give two shits about the fucking opera?

  • You spent a the last few months of this year wondering if you should quit play writing altogether. I think you still have time to consider. Remember a few days ago in a blog you were complaining about the play Other Desert Cities because it felt like something you would write? Well, I did a little digging on the writer, and he did in fact admit that the play was what he had hoped the ill-fated show Brothers & Sisters would be, and then he explained himself. The thing is, I changed my mind about him. John Robin Baitz has a lot of interesting things to say. In fact, the play that everyone raved about here in Indy was equally esteemed on Broadway and was finalist for a Pulitzer. WTF? If he is making waves writing about things that I like to write about in a similar way (no, I'm not saying I am accomplished or talented, so just relax that huff-maker, will you?) Incidentally, I also learned that he was booted from the show a year into production--a show that ABC specifically asked him to create and be show runner. That explains why the show got so stupid after the first year.  I also learned that he did not take kindly to the booting and was pretty vocal about it. So final verdict. Good move to question yourself as a writer. For now, that is enough. If you leave, do so with sweetness for what you had, not with sourness for what you missed.


Honorable Mentions:


  • Garden! (Don't mention here that you killed said garden with fucking ORGANIC bug killer and that it really killed your mood over the second part of the summer.) Goal for 2015: Try again, and this time try Neem Oil!

  • Urban Prairie Phase 1 complete!

  • You actually painted your cupboards the last week of 2014 on a whim!

  • Best books you read in 2014: Into the Wild, Half Broke Horses, Light Between the Oceans, Little Bee, Glass Castle, Mystic River




Best Accomplishment:

  • I let go of all of that shit. 

I'm so proud of that shit that I'm going to underline that shit. I l
et go of all that shit. For 2015, you are forbidden to take on any new shit to replace this old shit.



Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Letter to A Friend

I've been wanting to write about my grandma and Primo. Here is a letter I wrote to a friend.




My grandma died last week. She was 99. My mom was with her when she passed. Even though it’s what my grandma wanted, it came on the heels of my Aunt Gini’s unexpected demise, and I know this has been hard on my mom now that she’s the last one left in her family. Larry and I went up Friday-Monday. The memorial was Saturday, and it was the most beautiful service I’d ever attended. The pastor created a wonderful narrative of stories about Adallae weaved in with her favorite Bible passages and hymns. He kept calling her a spitfire. She would have loved it.

The church put on a really nice luncheon in the basement afterwards. They opened the game room for the kids so they could have fun while the adults talked. My mom created a beautiful table of photographs, letters, quilts, and memorabilia—even her wedding dress and veil.

For someone who outlived seven siblings and two husbands and most of her friends, she sure had a lot of loved ones and friends at the memorial. I looked around at all the faces and wondered if I have that many friends. The church offered so much comfort to all. Sometimes small towns get life just right. This was one of those times.

Sunday my brother invited Larry and I to go hiking through the dunes with his family, and my mom decided to join! She rallied and climbed steep sand dunes, so determined. I could see that she was relishing life and moments, and I was so proud of her. We kept telling her, “Mom, the dunes are going to get really steep,” but she was stubborn and came up anyway. Yes, she almost passed out from exertion, but she says it was totally worth the view.

I thought of how many times we’ve trekked those dunes, ever since the 60s, and my mom and dad probably hiked them in the 40s. In the winter, we would go sledding. As a teenager, I joined friends that meant the world to me on summer nights after work. As an adult, walking the dunes was therapy for me. Once I got past all the depression fallout, they became a source of inspiration. Sharing it with Larry, my mom, my brother and SIL, and my nieces and nephews surpassed all the other times I hiked there.

This next part is not good. Monday brought an unexpected tragedy. Primo passed away while we were in Michigan. He’s been struggling lately. His rear hips have been giving him trouble, and his mind was slipping. He has been refusing food for a while now, and the lack of nutrition caused a skin problem. The vet gave him a steroid shot and some meds. He rallied. I’ve been cooking fish and meats for him just to get some fat on him. The vet said that once he re-gained some weight, he’d get his strength back. Two weeks ago, he was climbing steep hills and jumping fallen trees at Eagle Creek, and it was a wonderful day.

I think the car trip to MI was too much on him. He’s had a couple of episodes in the car lately, and then his mind plays all kinds of trick on him. He wasn’t really right all weekend, but by Sunday, we were back to taking two walks per day, and I got him to eat an entire meal the day before.  He even played with a neighbor dog briefly. But Sunday he wouldn’t eat. He also wouldn’t sit or lay down, and I’m pretty sure it’s because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to get up. He was so exhausted. I finally got him to lay down Sunday night, and I really started to worry about him. I decided I would just have to work harder at finding foods he liked. I wouldn’t mind at all. I knew he didn’t have years left, and I wanted to give him whatever he wanted. But around 4 a.m., I heard him yelping. He couldn’t get up. He had gone BM and it was everywhere, from scrambling to try to get up. Larry and I had both seen him in this condition before, and at that moment, I knew that he could no longer be left alone.

Larry took him outside while I cleaned up inside. I went to check on him, and Primo was lying in a shallow mud puddle. Larry said he kind of collapsed there. He was sleeping deeply and looked peaceful. But I knew then that he was ready to go. He was exhausted. He was scared. I looked up in the sky and I saw Orion’s belt overhead, which I know means nothing, but it was so clear and beautiful. After a while, we decided to move him into the garage so he wouldn’t get cold. I got him to eat some roast beef, and he was walking around, and for a minute I thought that it was just an episode. We brought his bed out, and eventually he laid down. I got him some blankets, and he slept soundly. I could tell by the way he was laying that was ready to leave us. We found a vet who would come to the house so that his last moments wouldn’t be traumatic from having to be loaded into a car. I layed next to him for hours, and he stayed awake with me while I petted his head, and I knew I was doing the right thing.

He went very quickly, maybe 15 seconds. The vet assured us that he was ready. The vet and her assistant were competent and compassionate, just who you would want to trust in such a situation.

It’s been hard ever since. I didn’t want to have a breakdown at my parent’s house, just two days after my grandma’s funeral. I kept trying to hold it in. We drove home yesterday, and loading the car with Primo’s stuff but no Primo was heartbreaking. We entered the house, and the first thing we see is the biscuit he refused to eat before we all left for Michigan. Larry broke down and wept, and the night pretty much went like that.  

When I picture us doing the things we loved—relaxing in the back yard, making his morning and nightly meals, walking through the neighborhood, playing with his toys, I start crying. When I remember how he looked in that mud puddle, I feel relief. But I miss him so much and just want to talk to him and ask him if he’s okay with my decision. Larry said that he was so loyal that he might have rallied several more months, but not having a lot of quality in his life.

Now we have our trip coming up in two weeks—a place we picked specifically because it is dog friendly and because we all had such a great time there two years ago—and Primo won’t be with us. I feel terrible about thinking this, but I’m afraid it will only make me sad. Larry says we should go and celebrate him and try to heal, and I agree.

He was 16, and I had him 13-1/2 years—I know I had him more years than I should have. I am so grateful. But 13-1/2 years is the longest relationship I’ve ever had.

I hope I can share this with you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again, and I know how crappy that sounds, but it’s how I feel. I don’t care about anything anymore, I mean except Larry, family, and a few close friends.


 

Monday, December 29, 2014

2014: You Had To Be There


There's a saying, "You had to be there," which people use when they make inside jokes around people who obviously weren't there.

Well, 2014 was no joke, and it seemed I spent a good part of it sewed up inside myself.

Still, I was there. I was present for the good and bad, not always taking it in stride, but feeling it all and noticing everything.

Why take the time to write out the highlights, low points, and mundane passing of days of a year? It's tedious to recount, so I have no idea why you would actually read it. Wait, yes I do.

It's a year of your life. Good or bad, with life, you have to be there. If you skip out on the bad parts, you might not make it back in time for when it gets good again. It's an important appointment that you can't miss.

You have to be there.



2014: I was There (Pictures here.)

The first four months of 2014 were fantastic. I had a job interview the last day of 2013 and was offered a position on January 2. A blizzard hit the Midwest early in the month, which effectively shut down the city for over a week. I loaded up on food, books, movies, and hope, and nestled in and enjoyed the quiet beauty, not bothering to dig out until absolutely necessary. I had my pets, a book to write by January 20, and a new job to start January 21.

I had closed out a 2013 full of ups and downs and new discoveries, ending on an up. As I waited out the relentless days-long blizzard, I remember drifting off to sleep in my bed, imagining myself an artist or homesteader in the North Woods, expertly mustering all the fury that mother nature had to offer in my quiet and cozy cabin, as I spent the days doing...homestead-y things that could have involved...um, butter churning or hide tanning or darning socks or mending fishing fishing poles, and taking moonlit walks through the snowy wilds, then settling under wool quilts with my cats and dogs to keep my company while reading by candlelight. It was the first time I realized how powerful my imagination is, and that using it properly could bring me private peace and joy. It was like settling down to watch a movie, only the movie was playing in my head, and I was the star, and only wonderful things happened to me.

******************************************************************************
I believe these imaginings were inspired by a documentary I saw one weekend afternoon on PBS when Primo was in a leg cast and I was awaiting my trip to Thailand. Until that point, I never liked winter very much, not since I was a kid when it meant sledding and snow days. I was flipping through the channels aimlessly (I've never had cable, and this was before all the .1 rerun channels, so I had maybe six.) Stunning scenery caught my eye, and I watched this show, riveted: Christmas in Yellowstone. No, it's not about Christmas. It's about animal survival in the coldest months. The photographer actually camps out in a tent to follow the animals. You can watch it here.



    



********************************************************************************


I finished my book (yay!) and then started my new job and my new commute, determined not to complain about the drudgery of either. I would arrive in the parking lot and take a moment to take in the scenery of the season: ice giving way to tentative yet tender buds, buds giving way to blossoms, blossoms dropping off and making room for the full globes of green, green giving way to yellow, yellow to brown, and brown to bare.  My life was following a similar pattern.

The Ice Months:

We spent the winter months taking in performance art: an upstart poetry slam at Indy Artist Colony. Larry's first exposure to the art form, and I was so happy--he "got" it; several performances at IRT "And Then They Came For..." a beautiful and heartrending story of  the people who knew Anne Frank. "Who Am I This Time"...a play based on some short stories that Kurt Vonnegut chose to not publish--and for a reason. Neither of us enjoyed this play very much. "Other Desert Cities"...this one got rave reviews and was really well done, but it reminded me of a television show and also acted as a mirror--do I write like this? I cringed a little. It felt so familiar--the current story, and the undercurrent of a much bigger story between the lines. It made me a bit uncomfortable. Reading the liner notes, I learned that the playwright used to a writer for the mediocre television show "Brothers & Sisters," which I sometimes watch/listen when I'm doing dishes or cooking. The characters and situations on the show annoy me because I can predict them. Am I a predictable writer, or is it like when you meet someone you hate, and everyone tells you how much you're alike? Recently, I was painting my kitchen, listening to the show, and one of the episodes is nearly identical to the play. See, I would never do that. So, no, I'm not like this writer. The thing is, even when we don't really like the plays we see (which is rare at IRT), we just love going. We get dressed up. We have dinner afterwards and discuss. We walk the city streets. We love it! Other highlights included Dance Kaleidoscope "Kings and Queens of Country" with friends Jodee and Willard on St. Patrick's, and the audience being chock full of rowdy gay men dressed as leprechaun cowboys.


We had a beautiful winter hike in Turkey Run, the canyons frozen and quiet, and lots of winter walks with Primo, who was like a new dog after a rough couple of months.

The Bud Months

I was offered another book project in February, again given just weeks to write it. This one was on Lady Gaga. In addition to reading and watching everything about her I could get my hands on, I listened to all her music. I somehow did not know a single song by her, but did learn that her music is best listened to while running. I worked like a slave, and suffered through two terrible editors who insisted on changing the direction of the book (established by the series editors). I navigated through the challenges of standing my ground while being professional. I haven't seen the final copy, but online descriptions of the book (I assume written by the editors) are incorrect and contain false information about her. This was a very frustrating affair altogether, but at least for a little while I felt in touch with a younger generation, and I learned that Lady Gaga is pretty cool! I even streamed some of her concerts.

Larry gifted me a gas fireplace for Christmas, which was installed at this time. A simple twist of a knob, and I could light up my evening with a warm fire, complete with fuzzy slippers on feet, fuzzy cat in lap, book in hand, and glass of wine leading to fuzzy mind. I attempted to write a play I had been thinking about for months. It may or may not have had some really good parts. I decided to shelve it and resolved to write more fun and for personal reasons. I didn't really hold up on that end of the deal.

The Blossom Months

I went to Michigan for Easter and my birthday. My mom had a little birthday party for me--just my parents and Earl and Lori and kids. We had our first weenie roast of the season. It was a clear and beautiful night, a chorus of tree frogs in the ravine. I took the kids out for a day of fun--the newest Muppet Movie, visiting Grandma (their great-grandma), playing on the pier and the windy beach, getting lunch, then going to my mom's house to color Easter eggs. The next day we hid eggs and surprises for the kids.

Back home in Indy, Larry and I celebrated by attending the Stutz Artist Association open house, which was a yearly tradition for me for a handful of years. Larry had never attended. We got a little snazzy, and he was instantly hooked. We drank wine, listened to various singers and musicians, saw a little performance art, and five factory floors of visual arts.

The next day we packed up a beer/fruit/sandwich picnic and headed back to Turkey Run. The drive was gorgeous with purple and white and pink blossoms dotting the forests. This was our first visit to a state park on a weekend, and it was quite a different experience. First, some knucklehead evangelist had littered miles of trails with...those fucking hellfire comics. Second, all the fatasses who were there killing time before the restaurant buffet opened were clogging up the trail with their smoke, litter, cackling, and lollygagging. At this moment of realization (should be no smoking rules in our forests, for fuck's sake) that not everyone who comes to the woods respects the woods, I had a tiny epiphany: my brief unemployment during the -ber months of 2013 was not all bad.

The next day we went to the IMA, for a bike ride, then invited Ralf and Jim to the movies (Bears) and to dinner at Seasons 52.


*I remember 46 as being my favorite birthday ever.*

We extended the celebration to the following week for Dance Kaleidoscope "Picture This" at the IMA followed by an Arts party in the main gallery.


The next week Jodee rented the famous-in-Indy Chicken Limo (an old 70s mafia type Limo that looks like a giant chicken), and she and Larry planned a "Magical History Tour" around the city. I remember walking the golden sunlit sidewalks thinking everything in life was perfect. I remembered at that moment that the last time I had felt that way was that day I was walking the streets of San Francisco, and then getting laid off a week later. (The layoff, thankfully was recalled weeks later, and I managed to squeeze 2-1/2 more years out of that place.)

That night, I received a call from my brother: my cousin Adam had to take my Aunt Gini to the ER, where she was diagnosed with advanced stage cancer. 


This was Mother's Day, and it's when the year took a sharp turn. I rushed to Michigan the next weekend, and we visited Gini and family. It was the last time we would all be together while she was coherent. She was given about six months to live and died six weeks later. When she died, she took a part of all of us with her.

The advanced stage of the cancer and her sudden death were due to not only negligence but greed, yes greed, on the part of her doctor. She had been sick for months, begging her doctor to see her, but being a medicare patient (over 65), the doctor chose to put her off. Gini complained of feeling a lump in her stomach in January, and her doctor made her an appointment for June, because the greedy doctor did not see Gini as someone who could provide her with income. Doctors have a minimum quota of medicare patients they are required to see, and anyone on medicare is pushed to the back of the line. 

Sadness and anger swept over all of us, but mostly a great sense of loss and inability to fill the void. This is how it felt to me, so I can't imagine how it felt to my mom and to my cousins.

Not long after, I got new a neighbor, and things got worse, which I'll cover later.

The Green Months

I planted a garden for the first time in about nine or ten years. I had a wonderful time of it. My backyard started to be my favorite place in the world. Primo would investigate every inch of yard, and I'd sit in my lounge under my locust tree, the golden sun filtered by the green leaves.

I hired a landscaping crew to do some of the excavating to get rid of grass to make room for my native species prairie. It was with the best of intentions that I hired a not-for-profit group who employed at-risk youth. In the end, the work was unfortunately pretty shoddy, but at least it helped me complete phase 1. I spent the next few months planting, transplanting, seeding, and studying various species, which would attract bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds.

I had every hope of launching my shabby-chic wine bottle art, but did not exactly deliver. My glass cutting tool did not really work, and work got hectic and overwhelming. I did manage to make my wine bottle borders, which turned out great.

Over the Fourth of July, I gardened, dug, planted, and transplanted three days in a row for about 10 hours each day. This resulted in a knee injury that put my running to a halt and which I still feel today.

We had another outing to Shades State Park, where we encountered fewer people.

My job began to take over much of my free time and weekends.

Things in the neighborhood became tense as it became evident that the new tenant was not the doting father and fiance he claimed to be but a dealer with bruiser employees, at least three busybody baby mamas, six vandalizing kids, a steady stream of customers, and a used junk car business. He added a dog he neglected to the mix, and around the end of July, I said goodbye to sleep. His dog barked all hours of the night most nights of the week. Things only got worse.

I hardly got to spend any time in Michigan as I was working so often. In early August, I finally broke away. I had a slumber party with my nieces on Friday then took my mom to dinner the next night. I had a few hours at the beach before the rains swept in.

IndyFringe, in which I have been a contributor for the past eight years arrived at the end of August. I shelved my own writing project but recruited Cincinnati spoken word artist Curtis D. Shepard to take my slot. I hosted him all ten days of the festival, and made a wonderful friend. His show was well reviewed, and I realized that I enjoy being a curator as much as being a creator. Nevertheless, I could feel something stirring in me that suggested I might be nearing the end of this road. Larry and I decided to treat the festival as if it would be our last, and we took in several shows each night, as well as volunteered to tend bar at the beer tent, and joined the closing night parties. I said a quiet goodbye, and I've yet to determine if I'll be back. I wanted to leave on a good note, and I did at least accomplish that.

Unfortunately, I was not able to attend my Aunt Gini's memorial as I had performances scheduled at that day. Sara told me it was a beautiful morning on Lake Michigan, and she played "Paradise" by Cold Play, just as Gini requested.

As the warm, dry, silent winds of September blew in, t, and I felt an explicable sense of dread creeping in. Between being overwhelmed at work, saddened by Gini's death, worried about Primo, whose condition was worsening, I felt the onset of a low-grade depression. 

The situation with my neighbor became untenable. He encouraged his kids and baby mamas to vandalize my home and to harass me, his bruisers to block my driveway and deal in my yard, and one night he personally came after me. Terrified I barricaded my doors, called 911, and for the first time in years, took my personal firearm out of the safe. The next day I had a security system installed. After nearly two months of getting no sleep due to the barking dog next door, my work started suffering, and my boss noticed. I thought I was on thin ice, and I struggled daily to remain focused, but instead I was constantly fearful of my neighbor, worried about Primo, sad about Gini, and scared about my job.


The Yellow Months
I joined the neighborhood watch committee, attending meetings, and recruiting neighbors, and keeping in close touch with the police. I soon got word that the asshole was being evicted. I made some new friends, and lost someone I thought was a friend. The night the asshole and his friends beat down my door and surrounded my front yard, I called the guy across the street for help, and he basically ignored me. Later I found out that his skanky niece was engaged to this thug next door. 

I was able to regain my footing at work. Thank goodness for the wake up call. On top of everything else, I did not need to lose a job. I simply began double and triple checking everything, and read articles about communications daily on LinkedIn. It also became apparent that my boss realized that he had held me accountable for some things over which I had no control, and he seemed apologetic.


At the end of September, my grandma died. My mom had revealed to me that during her last month, she refused to speak to or acknowledge my mom when she came to visit. My grandma was 99. She had wanted to die for a few years by the time it finally happened. Later my mom learned that this isn't uncommon and wondered if this is how people prepare their loved ones for life without them. I wonder if it's the loved one checking out as a form of resilience to face death.

Her memorial was actually very beautiful as we celebrated her life. Her pastor shared her stories and her favorite hymns and scriptures. Larry accompanied me for the funeral.

The next day, we went for a hike through Grand Mere--my brother and his family, Larry and I, and my mom. My mom rarely accompanies us, but perhaps she was having one of those moments of Live While You Can. It was a beautiful day.

I took the next day off work to help my mom with my grandma's belongings. It didn't go as planned. I woke up in the middle of the night to Primo howling and crying out in the living room. He couldn't get up and was spinning around in desperation, having soiled the carpet. This was the third time I had found him unable to get up himself, and a sinking feeling came over me that we wouldn't be able to be left alone again.

I actually don't want to write about this. This was Primo's last day on earth. I will write about it separately.

In October, we took a road trip to Cape San Blas,where we had rented a beach house for a couple of weeks. We had entertained the idea of Acadia National Park in Maine or Glacier National Park in Montana, but I didn't want to leave Primo for any length of time, and I didn't want him to travel very far by car. CSB is a one day trip, about 12 hours. I felt trepidation about going to a place we specifically chose for Primo--a dog friendly beach and hous. We had been there at the end of 2012, yet it seemed so many years ago. It was very difficult at first, but soon my spirits lifted. I decided to let myself be totally transported.

Everyday was filled with sunshine, blue sky, long walks, brisk runs, bike rides, key lime pie, fresh seafood, books, swimming, laughing, and playing. I read two really great books while I was there--better yet they were "found" books--books I found on the bookshelf of the home that I had never heard of. 

Both books turned out to be treasures, especially the first:

The Light Between the Oceans

I have never been so transported by a book in my life.

The second was

Little Bee.

I started a third but didn't finish it.

CSB is a place I feel I belong. There are places I love (San Francisco), but belonging is completely different. Every night, I would cook a simple, healthy, delicious meal and we'd eat it at our tiny dining table, looking out over a sinking sun. We made a date every night to meet on our bedroom veranda for sunset, and then I'd make dinner. I'd stop by the fisherman's market and pick up a fresh catch, season it, and Larry would put it on the grill. He kept offering to take me to dinner, but I couldn't bear to leave our beautiful place. (We went out one night and had a pretty disappointing tourist type dinner.) We also went on a ghost walk one night in a centuries old graveyard in Apalachicola. I went to bed early every night, around 9:30, exhausted and happy after a day of fun exertion. I would crack open the door to the bedroom veranda and hear the rush of the tide rolling in, and the laughter of people and children at their nightly fire pits. On my daily walks, I got to know many people on the beach. On our last day there, the beach was deserted as most people had packed up. I took a walk and saw ghosts of Primo on the shore from our visit two years prior. 

The trip was wonderful and terrible. I felt so relaxed and recharged that I couldn't imagine ever going anywhere else again. 



The Brown Months

The leaves were dead and brown, yet precariously clinging to the branches. This is how I felt. When I returned from vacation, I made a few dinner dates with friends, and started some creative projects at home, namely, I started work on some quilts that I hope to give to my nieces some day. My grandma left me all her material from her decades long career of being an independent seamstress. Growing up, she always made us patchwork quilts from the leftover material. (Married during the Great Depression, she never wasted anything.) She made the quilts for us in the 70s, and the material really shows it. I like calling them Pantsuit Quilts. I made a couple of quilts more than a decade ago, and getting back into it felt nice and peaceful. I'd put something on Netflix, and start my cutting and measuring. I also took to drawing and Zentangle, and found myself relaxing and enjoying being creative again.


The Bare Month 

December. No leaves no snow. Purgatory

I felt pretty desperate by December, and made a last ditch effort to not lose all the peace and beauty I gained while in CSB. I suggested we take in as many holiday shows as possible. At this point, I didn't feel like socializing but I knew I had to get out. Performances and events were the perfect antidote. First I went to see my friend Dave in the play "A Christmas Carol," which is one of my favorites. Dave, Tristan, and I had dinner afterwards.

Next we went to Dance Kaleidoscope Broadway Meets Motown. As usual, a total blast. We had dinner before at McCormick and Schmick. 

Next, we accepted an invite from Ralf & Jim to attend the Butler University Holiday Concert Symphony Chorale. The performances were outstanding, making for a beautiful night. We had a lovely cheese and wine reception at R&J's afterwards. Next was Handel's Messiah with The Indianapolis Chamber Orchestra. I enjoyed it but don't need to do that again. Finally we went to Indiana Ballet Academy's Nutcracker. I'd never seen this (or any) ballet. I didn't love the ballet itself and later read that it is often criticized for being boring and having nothing to do with the actual (wonderful) story of The Nutcracker. Still, I was mesmerized watching the beautiful moves and thinking about how hard artists work. It definitely made me want to see more ballet. 

The verdict was that my experiment worked. All of these activities took my mind off my sadness and made me remember the bigger world of which I am a part, and more importantly got me excited for a holiday with my family. 

I suggested to my mom that we take in a Christmas Eve service at my Grandma's church, and it was really nice and kind of quaint, but I tell you the truth. I thought I would feel my grandma there, but I did not feel her at all. Perhaps this means that she is truly in a better place, and thinking of it that way, helped put me in a better place.

I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with mom and dad and Earl's family, and we had a really good time. I had to work the next day, at least log in remotely, so I left the day after Christmas, short and sweet. 

I surprised myself upon my return. I finally got the motivation to start the projects in my kitchen I had thought about for so long. I wanted to start with staining my honey oak 90s cabinets, and figured it would take at least a week. It took me only a day and half, and I moved on to repainting the walls (ballet white) and the pantry door a deep red. Next I had a great time doing all this work. I worked slowly and diligently, enjoying every second rather than rushing through it. Next up, I'll tackle my countertop project. 

We went to a really fun birthday for friend Jerry this week. He's one of my favorite friends in life, and we brought in his 50th with a wonderful "roast," which people complained was far too nice to be a roast, a giant human paddling machine, dancing, and love. I love my friends.

Just a couple days of left of 2014, and I'm ending on a positive note, because whether we feel like it or not, we have to be here. Let's be present while we're here.

2014: I was There. 




Sunday, December 28, 2014

Photo 365 2014

2014 in photographs. I accidentally deleted a chunk of photos from summer and fall. I had some of Primo's last days in that batch, and losing those pictures was another blow.

I'll start with some of the last pictures of 2013:

Christmas 2013



A few days before Christmas, it appeared as if Primo had a series of strokes. I took him to the vet, fearing the worst but learning that he had a mild and common condition called vestibularitis, easily remedied with the human drug meclizine. He was also cleared to take Rimadyl for his arthritis after recovering. He quickly took to the Rimadyl, running and leaping on our daily walks, showing the exuberance he did as a young dog.




My mom sent my dad a subtle message about his attitude.


Mom and her dog, Cookie


Taking Grace to get her ears pierced. A fun girls day!







We had a wonderful time at the poetry slam in early January at Indy Artist Colony













A fun snowy day in Holliday Park


Outside CTS, Christian Theological Seminary, part of Butler University just down the road from my house.


Some Indy artists: spoken word artist Tony Styxx


Son Lux with special guests Lily and Madeline


Visiting author series at Butler with Jessmyn Ward




January Turkey Run








We always pack lunch and eat it on trail. Beer is the best part of lunch

Found these snow hearts




Playing a good old fashioned game of Rack-O on a snowy Sunday


Valentine's flowers delivered to my office



Primo sleeps in after a long walk on Friday night


Valentine flowers, card, candy, and menu.

V

Scones


Indy's best pizza: Bazbeaux


Larry got me a gas fireplace for Christmas. Here's our first dinner by the fire.




Larry built a pillow castle for Abby


Reading by firelight


First signs of spring



Some college kids stayed in my artists hostel for spring break. They don't wear matching shoes


Crocuses in early spring


Pussy willows become blossoms



Symphony and dinner at Morton's.


Mom made Jell-O eggs for Easter


A really fun birthday party with family


Taking the kids to see Grandma on our one of our outings



I tried a selfie, and I didn't like it



Took the kids to see the latest Muppet movie over Easter, and Daniel colored his egg like the character Constantine


Birthday at Stutz Artist Open House with Lare. His first time.




Chess set of superheroes


Larry with his girlfriend

















Praying mantis bicycle


First sprouts of my garden


Geodes


Fun with strawberries




Lots of lilies


Planted two more trees











My mom put a spider in the bed for a joke


My garden is coming along


The fake Eagles at Symphony on the Prairie




Birthday at Turkey Run


Crab trees in bloom



Birthday flowers/hanging basket sent to my office



A zither artist practices in the Beat Lounge (and brings me beer, above)



I made myself a birthday dinner and birthday muffins and birthday Brussels sprouts




Spring at the Lillyfields of the IMA












Hanging on the pier in St. Joseph with nieces and nephew













Black swan on the lake




Nieces on Easter




Wearing birthday presents from Larry: Detroit hat and shirt











Irving Theater



The Magical History Tour with Jodee, Larry and friends in the Chicken Limo





The Dorman Street saloon. Used to be a fun place until it was discovered!



Part of the Magical History Tour. Elvis's last concert: Market Square Arena



Buddha beer


My friend Maggie was on Jeopardy



An anniversary picnic with Larry and Primo at Hundred Acre Wood



Ducks in the outfield at an Indians Game. Foul foul!




Street Dance at Indiana Ave Music Fest




Picnic at Shades State Park





Garden is growing!


Cuz I love plums







Veggie face


We learned to make homemade ice cream. This is St. John: vanilla mango coconut



Brian and Deb's wedding


Garden table: zucchini fritters and salad




Had a slumber party with the girls






Had a girls night with my mom at Tabor Hill



One minute the sky was blue, the next stormy. This was a harbinger of my days to come.

IndyFringe 2014 "UnMasked: Curt from Detox" from my project Twilight Productions. With Curtis Shepard

Fans of the show

Larry's home grown tea roses

I didn't know it then, but this would be one of the last pictures I'd take of Primo. Holliday Park






A beautiful late summer day at Eagle Creek



Primo and I relax in the back yard

Gift from friend Mike


 Cocktail Hour under the Tree of Forgetfulness in my backyard


Harvesting






A nice day biking to Zionsville


The last picture I have of Primo.

 My Grandma Adallae passed away September 30. We celebrated her life October 4







Fall hike the day after Grandma's memorial with Earl, Lori, kids, mom, and Lare in Grand Mere

















Packing for vacation in Cape San Blas. Abby jumps in every open drawer



Wonderful two weeks in Cape San Blas













Looks like dinosaur bones











I cooked almost every night of vacation because of the abundance of freshly caught seafood. Here's red snapper, shrimp, and scallops

View from our porch








Abby watching the sunset


























First cold fall day I made pumpkin pancakes



When I work from home, Abby lays on my computer and takes a bath


Larry's birthday


Packing a suitcase for Thanksgiving


How I felt throughout much of December


Packing a bag for Michigan trip for Christmas


Larry got me the new Lucinda Williams album (yes, album, not CD) for Christmas!