tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5408053666672173922024-03-05T00:59:33.829-08:00Moonstruck Musings of A PainterBeware Of Artists!
They mix with all classes of society and are therefore most dangerous.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-32680481805271808852016-11-10T07:58:00.001-08:002016-11-10T08:07:15.823-08:00My Chair<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjEHehg-JF7cNY6PeflhmFrPEfWVj-Ty6ClZlNlvK0fvJsmaENv4SJY5C5qTCIjccGsyNeljmLMSssjrlleBvU0yid8bOZswcS4U2ZGLnAMpTPCRlgQhehc7Zu_liCAkpVH0VlCFp_5Og/s640/blogger-image-418097729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjEHehg-JF7cNY6PeflhmFrPEfWVj-Ty6ClZlNlvK0fvJsmaENv4SJY5C5qTCIjccGsyNeljmLMSssjrlleBvU0yid8bOZswcS4U2ZGLnAMpTPCRlgQhehc7Zu_liCAkpVH0VlCFp_5Og/s640/blogger-image-418097729.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">This mornings' chilly sunrise found me snuggled into my favorite chair. I bought it with my own money when I was 12 years old, and haggled the thrift shop owner from $50 down to 35. It was my first piece of furniture and has been one of the few constant things since then. It's an unremarkable rocking chair; leather cushion seat cracked with age, It's Oak arms scored with the scratches and dents from careless play and a dozen moves. Its springs creak and groan in protest, but never fail to rock my mind to a quieter state. I've been taking my meds, getting sleep, reducing stress, but my mind has been racing. The thoughts fly by too fast for me to grasp. I snagged a few here and there when I'm struck by the beauty of a moment, but before I can write it down or audio record it to remember it, they slip away as though they've never been there; mirror holes in my mind where a memory should be. This comes at a time when my post concussion syndrome symptoms have come back with a vengeance. The bruised and battered brain matter inside my head has been creative despite headaches, dizziness, and nausea; the smell of something burning has been accompanied by a constant ringing and buzzing in my ears. At times it gets so loud it hurts and I cannot focus passed it on conversations. I have particular interest has been the new symptom of visual anomalies; which I guess is just a way of avoiding the word hallucinations. My mother has tried to explain it away; "honey maybe it was a buzzard in the road, or a leaf." </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLodmBb7mJrvJlSmPu2SjFDviIxkCIQiO0qn20plCJapI0ZAZROGipY4GMNUYQs58N_ETQ8GUNbZvZrhNugyUMc1vJYYXlGXIFQUd1EXyEmw7zcmRaiGrcEtJTz56r1jQH72tYRCdtqoz/s640/blogger-image--1994763752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLodmBb7mJrvJlSmPu2SjFDviIxkCIQiO0qn20plCJapI0ZAZROGipY4GMNUYQs58N_ETQ8GUNbZvZrhNugyUMc1vJYYXlGXIFQUd1EXyEmw7zcmRaiGrcEtJTz56r1jQH72tYRCdtqoz/s640/blogger-image--1994763752.jpg"></a> <a href="http://pin.it/ZkP40lB" style="font-family: '.SF UI Text';">http://pin.it/ZkP40lB<br></a>appreciate it, but, no, I know a Gang Gang Cockatoo hopping like a bunny rabbit in the middle of a rural Road at midnight when I see one. That's not an easy thing to confess to hallucinations. Though they may not say it, many people already think of one differently when they are open about having a mental health issue. As far as they're concerned when one starts seeing things that aren't there, it's a loony bin time. Most wouldn't bother to consider that I've sustained quite a bit of head trauma over the years. The back of my head was slammed on the bedpost during an assault when I was 12. At 16 my face and four head smashed into the windshield and searing wheel of my car when I wrecked it. That was my first documented concussion, As well as PTSD diagnosis. There was the fall from a horse when I cracked my head on the jump itself; the same horse knocked me out later. Last year while trying to help a loved one whose face was being smashed into the concrete repeatedly during a beating, I was attacked from behind with beer bottle and fists and beaten in the back of the until unconscious. Taking the time now to think back on those things from the safety of my chair, I guess maybe the surprise should not be that I'm having any symptoms, but that I didn't have them earlier. I finally opened up to my therapist and psychiatrist about it, and both of her to me to see my doctor for head scans again. I will. In the meantime, at least I can try to keep a sense of humor about it. I asked the therapist if the copper two and other images were random brain pictures, I didn't think so. He believes my brain was making a bad joke about the lack of physical intimacy in my Rasta Man's two month absence. Perhaps brain says that we could use a cock or two. Ha ha ha, brain. Very funny. Sometimes funny is all we got. When life is throwing shit at you and your brain is turning to mush, sometimes all we can do is sit back in our comfy chairs and laugh at dirty jokes are brain makes up. Oh and there's painting lots of painting. Painting has been my solace during the time that words have left me.</div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-53179550037078152912016-10-03T19:37:00.001-07:002016-10-04T02:46:25.092-07:00Samhain treasures<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSfHafde_qZUyi-8lpl-Abk9hhBbqAvF29EtBRH_aJ9NQH2TKtB2g8aqB6bRRtT92g6NFEfTyM9_co8-bSkJ284PiC0IXUbX7gPR0MRl6oyu0v4cYGSm3I58Moyax0ok7sp3auY-H-0SHm/s640/blogger-image-1776496775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSfHafde_qZUyi-8lpl-Abk9hhBbqAvF29EtBRH_aJ9NQH2TKtB2g8aqB6bRRtT92g6NFEfTyM9_co8-bSkJ284PiC0IXUbX7gPR0MRl6oyu0v4cYGSm3I58Moyax0ok7sp3auY-H-0SHm/s640/blogger-image-1776496775.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">There's nothing like surprise Halloween mail to perk one's day up, let me tell you! I thought today would just plot along like any Monday, but the mail gods had other plans. All the way from Canada a good sized package waited for me. I open it carefully as instructed and Halloween came early. I was squeaking and bouncing like one of Anubis toys as I unwrapped treasure after treasure. The biggest I saved for last, though. I held my breath as I pull back the paper on the most perfect little wine loving crow painting an original by Stacy Magic Love Crow. I am ecstatic. I love Stacy's work. Her crows convey so much emotion and energy. Thank you so much, Stacy. Your package got me back into gear for the fall season. I'd gotten a bit melancholy, not getting much done creatively, but this gave me a shot in the arm. I got my own gift in the mail for the person I was assigned for the fall/craft gift swap hosted by the lovely Katerina of miss Misanthropia. This has been so much fun. Here's a little sneak peek at what I sent out for my recipient. Here's to hoping they like cats and wine. Thank you Katerina for hosting this party I've had a blast.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLKEPBe1INPoaBieiJH2XUBCqWiSi_C7eDwcXH8Jinrp0F7y6_wZby8Cvn4UmJnLMzJT-bnMx1cKM1FPaMlX59yRMPRJpDRrMzNQ5wQUXpFxYgkHK26DZvSLKHIZ99SxzUwJfqbexSZp1/s640/blogger-image-1300143364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQLKEPBe1INPoaBieiJH2XUBCqWiSi_C7eDwcXH8Jinrp0F7y6_wZby8Cvn4UmJnLMzJT-bnMx1cKM1FPaMlX59yRMPRJpDRrMzNQ5wQUXpFxYgkHK26DZvSLKHIZ99SxzUwJfqbexSZp1/s640/blogger-image-1300143364.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBs4yNfe6APeqBVhgE7rKDqQzqLDdj8_8qboBap82w7L2sOraYK91zBbPxZCXdxqInFyr3TFdVhAfg-beLhFOIH_5MUjr05XJUM1kdo2Z-7RaHiELGUQ-g-55BE0oPkrSe6Efzs8FmnKm2/s640/blogger-image-785880978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBs4yNfe6APeqBVhgE7rKDqQzqLDdj8_8qboBap82w7L2sOraYK91zBbPxZCXdxqInFyr3TFdVhAfg-beLhFOIH_5MUjr05XJUM1kdo2Z-7RaHiELGUQ-g-55BE0oPkrSe6Efzs8FmnKm2/s640/blogger-image-785880978.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1tjw1z90lfNPxvNZCIXYCOGCRI7sgwRQS-XOLd51bp_82JAvLelFn0nQ7-BAKH_3fCCx1oAmkY0kZPn3QGae7i6xQVlZbHyffz1eGqDu7tzK0YmcFncFrmpI55JRJLZssKeBrEuD4tPl/s640/blogger-image-309253177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1tjw1z90lfNPxvNZCIXYCOGCRI7sgwRQS-XOLd51bp_82JAvLelFn0nQ7-BAKH_3fCCx1oAmkY0kZPn3QGae7i6xQVlZbHyffz1eGqDu7tzK0YmcFncFrmpI55JRJLZssKeBrEuD4tPl/s640/blogger-image-309253177.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-38832053268759154852016-09-25T10:55:00.001-07:002016-09-25T10:55:03.550-07:00The Morning AfterWhat a difference a day makes. Yesterday morning I woke to a warm, snoring dreadlocked Rasta man wrapped around me, and my furry god curled up at our feet. I felt warm and sexy and sensuous.<div>This morning I woke to a cold bed. Not even a dog to warm me. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijzug2_NdFQQ9g8IuCU_u3ybrIBxyIowjda3d-3aGk1wYo5gbqhtiwUtL4TOnUkjue-toXAb0LQLKpa827miiyKzcoeVUpHUvyrtmiRU6g9n4e8aXAoZWMHSbEHKNGSOpvICozkoWdI9-/s640/blogger-image-1802423510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijzug2_NdFQQ9g8IuCU_u3ybrIBxyIowjda3d-3aGk1wYo5gbqhtiwUtL4TOnUkjue-toXAb0LQLKpa827miiyKzcoeVUpHUvyrtmiRU6g9n4e8aXAoZWMHSbEHKNGSOpvICozkoWdI9-/s640/blogger-image-1802423510.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div>I've had my sexy Rasta man here with me for a week again, this time after a six week separation. I dropped him off at Ronald Reagan National Airport . After a quick kiss for me and head pat for the dog, he was gone again. The dog, (formerly known as"furry god" ) has decided he is gone because of me and ignores me except to ask to go outside. He wouldn't even sleep on the bed like he usually does.</div><div>But I won't let it get me down! Nope. This is the perfect morning for some self pampering with no self-shaming. I laid in bed watching 1 & 2 star Netflix movies (one of my stranger proclivities) until 11am this morning (got up to take the dog out at six as usual though). After that I felt ambitious, so I ran a hot bubble bath, lit a fat orange candle (pumpkin spice scented, of course), and soaked for an hour. Now I write this with a softly snoring dog who has conceded to sleep in the same room as me curled near the door. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgD8PAXz-V5pEPNv62beCLxlvPysOIHONn4JaOtlOkRI1XlO2rKtleYHenEoR830Tfnlc2HTDz81m1G_tYtMraYgYtjcStrJ759TxgKG7g5n6rTrbJWo21nsrvyXkiv4e8hFQ8hFq45hh2/s640/blogger-image-367741392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgD8PAXz-V5pEPNv62beCLxlvPysOIHONn4JaOtlOkRI1XlO2rKtleYHenEoR830Tfnlc2HTDz81m1G_tYtMraYgYtjcStrJ759TxgKG7g5n6rTrbJWo21nsrvyXkiv4e8hFQ8hFq45hh2/s640/blogger-image-367741392.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>A pretty white cloud of steam rises from a chipped blue and white tea cup holding hot mulled wine/chai tea with a splash of dark spiced rum. The lights in my little painting studio are low, and my creative flow is back. I got stopped up there for a while. Couldn't paint, couldn't write. Ideas for posts and paintings came and went but I just couldn't get them out. I think the mojo is back, though. </div><div>I've got a commission for a mural that I'm crazy excited to start, and Outlander themed glasses I'm still working on, not to mention a couple Autumn/Halloween Swaps online. I'm letting my mind run around in jagged circles and loops as it pleases instead of forcing it to focus like it has to all the time. Some times a little of the crazy just wants loose for a while. I hope this lovely Autumn day finds you all happy and content. I am going to enjoy the cool breeze that's putting on a show of swirling leaves outside my window, smell of Szechuan porch chops simmering in the slow cooker, sip my rum-laced wine, and paint until my fingers fall off.</div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-63260295310150644282016-09-04T05:04:00.001-07:002016-09-04T05:04:00.038-07:00Pumpkin Spice SeasonThere is a delightful chill in the air this morning that reminds me Fall is almost here. The leaves on a few trees behind my house have already turned red, blazing the way for Pumpkin Spice season.<div>Yesterday I got started on my decorating, going with a rustic combination theme of harvest time and ancestor veneration. I haven't gotten my wall hangings yet, but I will soon.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDOJiopLQzU0oxpE0AMlpGbuQtKtE-kMBOzOMNYTiQswkL_kosEujR_HYRluRPOGBock6I-3OIgSd4ADWkjoodNjpNQkQa05z5KzB-ufx4Dgtqr6plXKeESvKU_rOiEbSHLUwXOh2ihgY/s640/blogger-image-180680753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDOJiopLQzU0oxpE0AMlpGbuQtKtE-kMBOzOMNYTiQswkL_kosEujR_HYRluRPOGBock6I-3OIgSd4ADWkjoodNjpNQkQa05z5KzB-ufx4Dgtqr6plXKeESvKU_rOiEbSHLUwXOh2ihgY/s640/blogger-image-180680753.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7GbcYUOx8DaQydEeH4WqS5eM-qpqrBk4h9icVVllOcpfmDAxQWNoVQcfwrrLHqQeGrq8wThSS_Xnnw1iuUJP2rg2h7ER_nThssZ3kBL5RKPOgcHe0rUyYnSq1mEmVpKscXcdX_2qCPyBR/s640/blogger-image--74550452.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7GbcYUOx8DaQydEeH4WqS5eM-qpqrBk4h9icVVllOcpfmDAxQWNoVQcfwrrLHqQeGrq8wThSS_Xnnw1iuUJP2rg2h7ER_nThssZ3kBL5RKPOgcHe0rUyYnSq1mEmVpKscXcdX_2qCPyBR/s640/blogger-image--74550452.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7PXVYBvcoHreEU3ZSmDyBtcUooeN1xxC1wEMGjE9QHHRrsvqh2X63XbSLjWYEB63MqQ7r6y4PFNPS7aQ9Sw3V8d4_k2e0f3iJ4DX-ComqQeF4_gC2Mw8USTkZNLvMZlX0LBxv-hIlOnq/s640/blogger-image-1739891513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7PXVYBvcoHreEU3ZSmDyBtcUooeN1xxC1wEMGjE9QHHRrsvqh2X63XbSLjWYEB63MqQ7r6y4PFNPS7aQ9Sw3V8d4_k2e0f3iJ4DX-ComqQeF4_gC2Mw8USTkZNLvMZlX0LBxv-hIlOnq/s640/blogger-image-1739891513.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All that decorating got my creative juices flowing, and this year for today, the 14th anniversary of my dads passing through the veil, I put together this wall hanging. As you may have guessed or I may have said before, Dad was a painter. He did mostly residential wall or house painting, but also some faux marble and wood painting. He could also paint in oils beautifully. I saw a painting he did when he was younger and had time, and it made me sad that providing for us kids had stolen all his time from him for creating beautiful things. Ah, well, no changing it now. Now all I can do is be glad of the memories; playing mad dog, a rough housing game where he chased us around snarling and gnashing his teeth and when he caught us mauled us with tickles. Then there was movie night; we'd pick a movie to watch, turn it on, and then he'd turn the sound off and we all had to provide the sound and dialogue. I am so grateful to him for always fostering my creativity and pushing us kids to embrace our artistic side. Today I'll honor his memory with a glass of Rosé, Lasagna, and warm spicy scented candles and incense. Today I'll paint with gratitude in my heart for the gift he passed to me. I'll breathe the cool mountain air and rejoice in the love for the mountains I have because of where he and mom raised us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK-Yb3MOA37hp6WFcV5Wqxd6y7Z6IOaXtTQyoU9OevHQpXVo1UPuCvz1Vibsuskr-E1QBupVXiuJqIDXCp6k_H3TM7IAqiWc4H4IS57zJUik_rc6aK39auJgUSPSOL1kuh19Ke41gS_U9Y/s640/blogger-image--555337617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK-Yb3MOA37hp6WFcV5Wqxd6y7Z6IOaXtTQyoU9OevHQpXVo1UPuCvz1Vibsuskr-E1QBupVXiuJqIDXCp6k_H3TM7IAqiWc4H4IS57zJUik_rc6aK39auJgUSPSOL1kuh19Ke41gS_U9Y/s640/blogger-image--555337617.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Thank you, Daddy, and I hope you are resting well on the other side.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-62183624549402887752016-08-21T19:20:00.001-07:002016-08-21T19:20:21.148-07:00The Right Stuff...<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruPoeHS957UseIl8sQ8NvhHREJ67dFHWRJRBWys1wg_lrEiCraaaMBf7z7-JvYz3dn30g645srUyhhyphenhyphenUZsxl0jHSfW_sSQCWHV44PL-Yu18PDkV6JxoFJEHww8TRqZ1tx0KopfmJH9AFr/s640/blogger-image--1310376444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruPoeHS957UseIl8sQ8NvhHREJ67dFHWRJRBWys1wg_lrEiCraaaMBf7z7-JvYz3dn30g645srUyhhyphenhyphenUZsxl0jHSfW_sSQCWHV44PL-Yu18PDkV6JxoFJEHww8TRqZ1tx0KopfmJH9AFr/s640/blogger-image--1310376444.jpg"></a></div><br></div>I feel good, friends. Finally. I feel good.<div>It was rough after the fight my sis and I had, but after a few weeks, she needed help with my adorable twin nieces, so we came to bit of a truce.</div><div>Now I see my nieces 40 hours a week, and can help my mom with things around the house. (She broke her shoulder when Anubis pulled her down during a walk a couple months back.) I work three days a week at a farm that is home to three Arabians, a donkey and pony, chickens, ducks, and two senior dogs. I love my work, and spending time with my nieces.</div><div>I've had several side jobs come in dog sitting for people, and will be farm sitting in a month or so.</div><div>I'm painting when I find time, and I have to find time because I've gotten several challenging orders. </div><div>One client ordered a set of glasses based on the Outlander books/series by Diana Gabaldon . As research for this project I spend a lot of time looking at well-muscled men in kilts online, since it's set primarily in the Scottish highlands. For research.</div><div>I'm also taking part in Ms. Misantropia's Autumn Gift Swap. Research for my contribution for this has me lighting pumpkin spice candles and longing for hot cider, but also painting. </div><div>I feel motivated. </div><div>I have more weight on me than I ever have in my life, thanks the side effects of medications, but I feel confident. Those medications have accomplished the impossible. I feel happy. Even though my man is far from my side, and I have family issues; money is tight, and the world gone crazy, I'm happy.</div><div>I think we've found the right combination of meds to control the Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, Panic Disorder and Anxiety Disorder. In my dark days I didn't believe it was possible. </div><div>I haven't been very good or attentive friend to anyone while I've been getting myself sorted out, but I thank you all for being so supportive and encouraging to me.</div><div>Big hugs all around.</div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-49103549916329204012016-07-12T08:21:00.001-07:002016-07-12T08:39:54.092-07:00Daddy said there'd be days like this...<p dir="ltr">The day had been almost perfect. Sunshine, warm weather, clear skies and a drive through the mountains. Just a few little spats back and forth about seatbelt wearing and open container laws. Then there was the peeing on the side of the road and indecent exposure laws. But it was a beautiful day of swimming in a mountain lake with cherub-like twin girls and a handful of boys and the women who love them. The driver had a sip or two of the other's wine during their visit, but stuck with water. That's why she had volunteered her car, so the children would be safe. She knew this bunch, and they thought nothing of driving around, beer or wine in hand while children sit in the back seat. It sickened her and angered her that people like this get pregnant when they think about sex, but not her... she sent that thought away down the path it had snuck up. Down that path lies madness.<br>
So they ended the beautiful day by deciding to cook out at one of the mother's house and let the kids play. The driver held a plastic drink jar of wine shed been handed and stiffly held it watching the two year olds toddle up and down steep stairs with a drop off of rocks on the side. She got attitude from their mother every time she voiced her worry. The children were hurting a cat, their mother guzzled more wine, sucked on her cigarette and told the driver to loosen up its just a cat. But the cat will defend itself, and then when your child gets scratched for hurting it, you'll blame the cat, just like Moms dog. The mother rolled her eyes and flicked the cigarette ashes onto the green grass. Finally after more of the same for another hour, the driver went and sat in the car hoping the mother would get the message that it was time to go. A friend of theirs was passed out drunk on the couch while kids toys dotted the floor around her. She'd driven herself there. It boggled the mind that this was normal behavior for this group of people.<br>
But they kept telling her she was the one who needed to loosen up. Well, maybe she would try. She walked up to the mother of the twins and mentioned leaving and needing to get back and take care of her dog. The mom whose house they were at Sat red cheeked on the grass with a beer in her hand. She said she was gonna put her kid in the car seat and take him for a drive to put him to sleep. <br>
The other mother sat beside her with another cigarette in hand holding one of her little ones, nodding. "Yeah, sometimes  no matter how much benadryl you give'em, you still gotta take them for a drive. The driver's stomach lurched and she thought she be sick. She looked at the mother's, "Seriously? Y'all been drinking all day. She's holding a beer in her hand while talking about driving with her kid in a few minutes. That seems ok to y'all?" The driver was laughed at, ridiculed, and let know she needed to loosen up. Then the mother of the twins said she was going to take her twins carseats out of the driver's car and put them in the car of the still drinking mom. The driver couldn't believe it, even drunk she thought that this woman had better judgement. She was always lecturing others on making good choices and forcing her opinions down their ears. The driver looked at her and started shaking inside with anger that her nieces and nephew safety meant so little to their own mother. "Are you fucking serious right now? Do you see the choice you're making? You're taking the children's car seats out of the sober persons car and putting them in the drunk person car. I don't need to loosen up; you need to be more responsible. This is shitty parenting." Needless to say it got uglier and she was informed her overreacting was due to her mental illness and she was the one with the problem and it went on. Sadly it ended with those beautiful little girls and their brother left at the house with a bunch of drunks. Their aunt, the driver, could do nothing. She went back to collect her dog from her mom's house and broke down telling her Mom. Her mom called the father of the little boy and let him know, the mother was on That Path again. The driver got many ugly texts cursing her and ridiculing her mental illness that she was being treated for. She was tired and ended it with raw truth, hoping it would snap the selfish bitch into reality. "Your 12 year old that no longer lives with you got molested by your boyfriend even though we all tried to warn you because you cared more about getting your drink on and partying than standing up to what was obvious to everyone around you. You're fucking this up and if you lose those twins because of your selfishness than maybe it's for the best. Maybe then someone can have them who is going to treat them right, not drag them around and have them sleep on blankets on the floor so they can get a piece of dick or sit around drinking with friends all night. Right now you're being a really bad mom. If you drive with those kids in the car, and I find out, I will turn you in." It ended badly, as these things <u>do</u>, and the driver learned why so few bother to stand up to narcissistic people. She would do it again, though. It's what was right. Sadly, the narcissist will likely move out of their moms house and take the kids out of everyones lives so she can carry on with her lifestyle and "not be judged." </p>
<p dir="ltr">I don't know, maybe the driver should've left it alone...</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-4656045359750122932016-06-12T18:02:00.001-07:002016-06-12T18:02:45.369-07:00Not So Bad<p dir="ltr">It wasn't bad, as miscarriages go.<br>
Sure, there was the pain; the ripping-you-apart-twisting-hot poker-to-the-uterus pain. There was the knowledge that dripping down her legs was the hopes and dreams shed held for the dead thing inside her. Another would-be child: dead. Another child she couldn't keep alive, leaking out like any other bodily fluids.<br>
It wasn't that bad though. <br>
This one was so different from the last one. This one she'd felt the pains and when the blood began to flow she knew. She knew better than to hold false hope.<br>
This time she was not huddled hemorrhaging under a tree in the sand on a remote island in the Bahamas far from any hospital.<br>
This time she was in her mother's home, a mere hour's drive from excellent medical care. She'd felt the tearing away, the dropping feeling, the loss of Connection, and known. She took the time to almost ceremonially bathe and prepare herself. She told her mother she was going out for awhile and calmly climbed into her car. She drove and calmly switched radio stations. She drove and calmly switched lanes. A tear leaked out, and she woodenly pushed it away. Another burned it's way down her cheek. Then, because there was no one in the car, no one to hear her lose her control, then, she screamed...and screamed...and screamed. She screamed until only hoarse pathetic croaks came from her lips. <br>
At the hospital she parked a couple hundred feet away from the doors and was greeted by staff more suited to a hotel lobby in their polite manner than an emergency room registration desk. <u>Withi</u>n a few minutes a kind and patient staff member had taken her medical history, confirmed address and payment info, and gently fasted a patient ID band around her wrist. Five minutes later she sat in a private room in an interview with her nurse, Charissa. Charissa took blood, installed an IV line and brought her a stylish gown and blankets. Within ten minutes the doctor on duty rushed into the door, and seeing her doubled up with pain asked did she want something for the pain now or after a sonogram to check for the presence of a fetus. Then he checked the blood tests results in my chart and ordered the nurse to go get a dose of Dilaudid and Zofran for the patient. He spoke to his clipboard, "this blood work says there's probably nothing in there to worry about hurting now."<br>
When the heat of the narcotics and anti nausea med spread throughout her body a few minutes later it wasn't only physical pain they numbed. She welcomed the temporary euphoria and absence of emotions.<br>
The rest was a haze of sonogram probing, long dimly lit hallways, and the doctor referring me to a specialist later in the week to rule out ectopic since her "uterus is empty". <br>
So was she, she thought. <br>
She walked back through the emergency room lobby shortly after and the registration staff waved sadly.<br>
She sat in her car in the parking lot and sent the few texts she needed to. She and her Rasta Man hadn't told anyone but a few close family.<br>
She drive feeling empty, angry, and cold.<br>
So very cold.<br>
That night she dreamt dark dreams of screams and mountains and tornadoes. <br>
It wasn't bad this time though...as miscarriages go.<br>
This time there wasnt a seven hour wait soaked in her own blood in a room full of unfriendly people with even more hateful staff. Nope. Not so bad...as miscarriages go.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-11639776041951055512016-05-29T17:38:00.001-07:002016-05-29T17:38:57.011-07:00Nature's Solace<p dir="ltr">The sun has finally burned away the chills of a cold winter, and gilded pine needles whisper rumors of summer to poplar leaves above me. Last night the whippoorwill sang so hard and fast I feared he would burst in a feathery explosion of wildly mad, lust-driven song.<br>
I hope it was enough for the object of his affection. This morning Pee Wee sounds annoyed with his calling of the daylight. My hummingbirds' buzzing eclipses the many bumblebees boring into the railings of the cabin, and far below my mountain top are the faint echoes of traffic.<br>
Nearly every morning the same two deer graze on shrubbery nearby. Yesterday the little red doe tiptoed down my driveway as though she were stopping by for a cup of tea. This illusion was shattered though as my ever vigilant guardian, Anubis, burst from his feigned sleep and bounded after her baying like a hound from hell.<br>
Ah well. He's only protecting me after all, and she must seem strange to him with her big eyes and flicking ears. Stranger still for him, and seemingly most distressing, are the black vultures who sit on our roof. He barks at them and snarls like he's gone mad and when they fly he runs and tries to chase them. Silly puppy; you have no wings. They make me very glad I have a well and not a cistern which would collect rainwater from the roof.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I love the solitude of my little cabin on top of this mountain.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Today, though, I go forth and visit The Cousins, my only two cousins (out of over a dozen) with whom I have a relationship. Ah well. Quality over quantity, yes? I see my mother, sisters and nieces and nephew quite often, and love it. I must confess, though, I am most at ease in the company of myself, my hound, and the forest.<br>
I find myself sensitive these days more to the space between words and what is not said rather than said. I find my empathy is on overload right now, and the coolness of the tree shade, song of the Robin, and cawing of the ever present crows and ravens near my home calms me. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I find solace in Nature when people have fun at my expense. When old patterns are repeated and my grown eyes see what my childhood eyes did not. When bullies love you as fiercely as they loathe you and tell you to lighten up as they stomp you with cruel words. When jokes are at your expense and mean spirited and your stories are stolen, twisted and spread open before strange eyes, then my friends it's time to return to my mountain top. I find solace in the cries of the whippoorwill, in the flick of the deers ears, the crimson flash of cardinals, and whispers of treetops.<br>
I hope this weekend finds you all safe and secure this weekend and with people whom value you as greatly as you value them.<br>
</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-2372360009206032092016-05-08T20:41:00.001-07:002016-05-08T20:41:23.272-07:00May the Force be with you on Mothers DayMy dear dear friends, I have been terrible at staying up to date with all of you. I miss writing, and reading all of your blogs. Right now, except for rare occasions, I truly am off grid Internet-wise. I can't get it at my little rental cabin, and my vision is not doing so great, so blogging on my phone is difficult.<div>I write this, though, while snuggled into my moms couch (she has wifi) after a wonderful weekend. On Saturday two of my sisters, nieces, nephews, brother in law, mom, and a bull mastiff/pit puppy went to a local historical landmark festival. At this same place just last week, sis and I attended our docent training to be trail guides and curators for a private dinner nature preserve with a popular hiking trail on it. It really struck a nerve with me. I was stirred by the fact that species on this mountain don't exist anywhere else. It is a truly sacred place. It's called Ice Mountain in North River Mills, West Virginia. I look forward to studying and becoming more active with my local chapter of The Nature Conservancy.</div><div>That was Beltane that we completed our docent training, and truly was an emerging of Self though the soil for both sis and I. It was an incredible bonding experience. </div><div>The same can be said for this most recent visit for the festival. Sis had a group of family and friends who wanted to hike up the mountain, but there were a lot of rowdy children...not great for a hike through an area where delicate rare flora grow inches off the trails. One guest had a puppy, and dogs are absolutely not allowed on the trails, so I volunteered to stay behind and puppy sit. I admit, there were selfish motivations; the energy levels of the kids far exceeded the strength of my medication. </div><div>I leaned against a giant old oak and listened to locals drawl to one another and admired the bustle of women in hoop skirts. A velvety tank of a brindle puppy snuggled against my stomach, and a 7 year old little mountain girl broke out her fiddle for a rare treat. </div><div>In the shade of the oak limbs and cool of the mountain, LED strips transformed her bow into a light saber as she coaxed Star Wars music from her tiny violin. Her little chin jutted out as Darth Vader came to life on the strings of her instrument. The host of the festival brought by a gluten free hard apple cider, and I was reminded once again of why I chose the mountains over the shores...family, community, roots...soul food.</div><div>Today, Mothers Day, my sis, her twins, mom and I spent hauling stuff out of the property I bought. I have a buyer and go to closing in the next few days! Yay! Day after tomorrow my sexy Rasta Man arrives. Hurray! I'm so excited. It feels like it's been forever. </div><div>I cannot wait. In the meantime, today was lovely. Mom, sis and I with the twins emptied the hous and then dug up bunches of different plants to transplant.we had a small picnic and had an all around wonderful Mothers Day.</div><div><br></div><div>I hope you all had a wonderful day</div><div>Much love</div><div>Sarah</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-26335106694525442342016-04-20T15:06:00.000-07:002016-04-20T15:06:26.830-07:00Back To My Roots<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My prancy boy (he truly prances like a gaited horse) and I walk the moss-carpeted trails on our mountain nearly every day.<br />
Yesterday as the dulcet baritone of my Rasta Man's voice slid into my ear I tried to paint him a picture of trees talking, describe the freedom felt in following a deer path until you lose it and using the same one to get back home.<br />
He said he's glad I'm happy.<br />
But it's not just happy, its more than that. My roots just couldn't catch hold in the hot sandy soil of the islands. They curled and bent and conformed to their pot as best they could. At times they even flourished, but, as with most plants, they needed their true habitat to thrive.<br />
Here I feel them unfurling and sinking into rich black soil, wrapping round stones, and twisting through cracks in the bed rock.<br />
Creating a foundation they are.<br />
<br />
Recently I was walking my other piece of property with my agent who is also my sister and some prospective buyers and their agent. I had my twin nieces on both sides of me, but a tiny shadow was working its way into my mind about selling something I'd planned to live on. My niece Ivey bent down and picked up something and said "Here Auntie, present for you." It was the jawbone in the picture below. I've identified it as a raccoon jawbone.<br />
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Traditionally raccoon medicine teaches us to let go of something (thing about how they're always washing away what they don't want on their food), it also can teach us to accept gifts as they come without arguing ourselves out of worthiness to receive them. (Note: while we walked looking for mushrooms my twin nieces quietly chanted "good things, good things, good things". At the end of the showing the people said they want to buy it. Darling little witchlings!)<br />
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I also like that the first animal I encountered at my new place was a huge Black Vulture. These are different from the red headed Turkey Vultures most of us are familiar with. They are almost regal with their all black suits and white frosted wing tips. Vultures have a highly developed sense of loyalty, feeding family members long past fledging. They travel in large family groups normally.<br />
I like the synchronicity of that with my current life circumstances.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-86431537040902242412016-04-16T21:27:00.001-07:002016-04-19T08:33:14.692-07:00Buds Bursting<div>I know I haven't posted any updates since moving North, besides a few pictures on Facebook. </div><div>I don't have internet at my sweet little cabin yet, and was hesitant to get it since I was leasing month to month. I'm delighted to share with you all, though, that I spoke to the landlord and I'm good for three months now! Woo hoo. </div><div>It really is delightful here. I'd forgotten the pure magic of Spring. The apparent lack of life everywhere. Gray, black, brown, but wait, tiny hints of green just at the tips of branches. Tentative sprinkles of color tasting the still cool air. Almost time. </div><div>Redbuds splash the air boldly with their magenta blossoms competing with forsythias that are like flames shooting into the sky. Coltsfoot gingerly push aside their brown leafy blankets and raise their yellow faces just in time for my cold that I caught. Ever so cautiously the tender buds test the air.</div><div>I'm reminded of a poem that Ms Misantropia (<a href="http://msmisantropia.blogspot.com/" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">http://msmisantropia.blogspot.com/</a>) sent to me.</div><div>(English version here: <a href="http://www.karinboye.se/verk/dikter/dikter-engelska/of-course-it-hurts.shtml" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">http://www.karinboye.se/verk/dikter/dikter-engelska/of-course-it-hurts.shtml</a>)</div><div>"...the tree buds burst as if in jubilation,</div><div>Then when fear no longer exists,</div><div>The branches drops tumble in a shimmer,</div><div>Forgetting that they were afraid of the new, </div><div>Forgetting that they were fearful of the journey..."</div><div>It does indeed seem as though the different tree blossoms are rushing all at once, as though they've all gotten the courage at the same time to rally forth. "Flower Power!" I'm sure they encourage one another.</div><div>Silly musings that pass through my head on a cool Spring morning. </div><div><br></div><div>My sweet dog god has made the transition almost seamlessly. As I sip on dandelion root and cinnamon tea and write this he paces the decks challenging the wild turkeys just out of sight with his squeaky toys.</div><div>He alerted me to what looked like a bear last night (I wasn't wearing my glasses), and we quickly went inside. Perhaps we will keep our porch lounging to daylight hours.</div><div><br></div><div>I am so grateful for family. Is there anything better than a sister with whom you've shared all, fought, and overcome? My little sis was teaching me how to replace the cracked pipes under my cabin in the pic. We've been through some heavy stuff, and it drove us apart for awhile, but we are together again.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUk47VNZ14-qOD0oAUcP9e0QP0yEp31ElpVIDG5RizXGjN1Fkb5W61HsAYipTuVHCNUTflB3gCKeSv4swgvJiOqJHJE8hAnsO0fXfij3N5z-5W8jLimPNw9DvomdM0eZ6i3SvxQIAWl3Xy/s640/blogger-image--586525513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUk47VNZ14-qOD0oAUcP9e0QP0yEp31ElpVIDG5RizXGjN1Fkb5W61HsAYipTuVHCNUTflB3gCKeSv4swgvJiOqJHJE8hAnsO0fXfij3N5z-5W8jLimPNw9DvomdM0eZ6i3SvxQIAWl3Xy/s640/blogger-image--586525513.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Like peanut butter and honey, the Honaker sisters.</div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-72816398096005240712016-04-06T09:50:00.001-07:002016-04-06T10:08:23.275-07:00Work-In-Progress WednesdayThe breeze ruffles mulberry leaves while Cuban Finches argues over which branch has the juiciest berries by my gate.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgOS6exP2aZmkZ9KKHFQcbcIMrTOKpXDMnOSanr87W89Smplxsf9XLgc3MzcBKFBKDEvfZLI5942pCJ78JpwS3qME8FjHzztdHfuNfLwJiOCv6eb7S4uRnXOpKqWDF4FwZwj9BmNn6VPg/s640/blogger-image--2089420099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgOS6exP2aZmkZ9KKHFQcbcIMrTOKpXDMnOSanr87W89Smplxsf9XLgc3MzcBKFBKDEvfZLI5942pCJ78JpwS3qME8FjHzztdHfuNfLwJiOCv6eb7S4uRnXOpKqWDF4FwZwj9BmNn6VPg/s640/blogger-image--2089420099.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It is a lovely sunshine you day in Nassau, and I am spending it sanding, sparking, and trying to patch up an apartment that should be gutted and renovated. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEHALKsnhAkueO4GGpK62ce8JjjrYfmmWqcrX_-jwGZjlXES2ZyOocuar1PC6dhIx1aR41FQf5KeNJMu1xVGFSDD62GP3x7KPZjCglltfkizrwf7GqP6gyvatd_xamtAreeuYq3_GAEB3/s640/blogger-image-830809093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaEHALKsnhAkueO4GGpK62ce8JjjrYfmmWqcrX_-jwGZjlXES2ZyOocuar1PC6dhIx1aR41FQf5KeNJMu1xVGFSDD62GP3x7KPZjCglltfkizrwf7GqP6gyvatd_xamtAreeuYq3_GAEB3/s640/blogger-image-830809093.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnCkMDfgIYLT3vuIRVZTPU14kBNfINotcoWCkirLNmsW_QB-cNES7Vu_zJGkEQhW65lqUy17Ba0un8lHGQTK7eA-YMRrR5rU7RrKZ9M7BWpyosTj_zqdbSC97fgSsXSqXSqoXc2OMJkKr/s640/blogger-image--1365057216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnCkMDfgIYLT3vuIRVZTPU14kBNfINotcoWCkirLNmsW_QB-cNES7Vu_zJGkEQhW65lqUy17Ba0un8lHGQTK7eA-YMRrR5rU7RrKZ9M7BWpyosTj_zqdbSC97fgSsXSqXSqoXc2OMJkKr/s640/blogger-image--1365057216.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaw1spyXwf3hwGHg6ntRz5sQVZGuECBYFTbC_lwpPnfIFLrpzrCf6AgCuv_iljUkdCXMKuXWjCK2OOqTwBThhkJW1B_x727iZrqboex55cZj3SWKtWFoDhJ1-5WSYrmEdVSGHT7r0-NRoC/s640/blogger-image-1009618521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaw1spyXwf3hwGHg6ntRz5sQVZGuECBYFTbC_lwpPnfIFLrpzrCf6AgCuv_iljUkdCXMKuXWjCK2OOqTwBThhkJW1B_x727iZrqboex55cZj3SWKtWFoDhJ1-5WSYrmEdVSGHT7r0-NRoC/s640/blogger-image-1009618521.jpg"></a></div>(I think the spackling compound looks like ice cream!)</div>The wall-tastrophe above started out as what looked like bubbles under the paint, then whole sections rotted and fell away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zRZJXv1bFFuCIm903dZgPhnD9J2bsp3vyTOcSLQUCLjGpqAY6pZ6HafiYCcVZcDRiBZ1aELIejetkWUbYTB-sd96EIH91yB8L196qtWjleuLBYqQx4kpkBF1oK3FZdLSPPOL618YYsgd/s640/blogger-image-379652277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zRZJXv1bFFuCIm903dZgPhnD9J2bsp3vyTOcSLQUCLjGpqAY6pZ6HafiYCcVZcDRiBZ1aELIejetkWUbYTB-sd96EIH91yB8L196qtWjleuLBYqQx4kpkBF1oK3FZdLSPPOL618YYsgd/s640/blogger-image-379652277.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Little by little I am getting there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Anubis and I fly out Monday morning bright and early, so it's good I'm almost finished. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0BuXAsuQq6XytHYmkfKtGIunPmAN9DoV_83jf2ftKZ44rx0FvA6vRZqncVd-N2KUBq_ca-s4013qLggAOtpOb-QzKv1eog3CmTI5wyd2ej2LHqbSyHD_uF6jdR2O_C0x6zfRfLU851ba/s640/blogger-image-1245512482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0BuXAsuQq6XytHYmkfKtGIunPmAN9DoV_83jf2ftKZ44rx0FvA6vRZqncVd-N2KUBq_ca-s4013qLggAOtpOb-QzKv1eog3CmTI5wyd2ej2LHqbSyHD_uF6jdR2O_C0x6zfRfLU851ba/s640/blogger-image-1245512482.jpg"></a></div>The picture above is a good reminder of what's waiting for me and what I'm working towards.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My sister and my Mom an two nieces went and checked out my little cabin for me, and it's livable. The twins say the beds check out as jump able. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUzElzj_mkC8tszeKoTRGn0LMEg8oK5ldSgRe4ipEaZ83ScmQ4hA1k58teQugmWyTmDh5m8eFdCSQhCDsoF1uZBnRl8_DjVS1vqh8sEyJdS2Sr9BnvZ6Aa54e8DS7GG2ROZ9FfxSkqGz5/s640/blogger-image--163626876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUzElzj_mkC8tszeKoTRGn0LMEg8oK5ldSgRe4ipEaZ83ScmQ4hA1k58teQugmWyTmDh5m8eFdCSQhCDsoF1uZBnRl8_DjVS1vqh8sEyJdS2Sr9BnvZ6Aa54e8DS7GG2ROZ9FfxSkqGz5/s640/blogger-image--163626876.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm finishing up some art bags that I will either abandon or bring North with me to sell.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4UZG7Ig_k51CV4nzMRhgV_9W3PUA60X_RDSt5jEDpuTS2gccGZwUOY93C4J86hS6RrJaCQ4uP2jojilOIHxWKLzQmeli1AvvOaqQ0mRf1dmjujpLjTu76b4qFfKELtke4F5vNQqdXCLt/s640/blogger-image-1340615444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4UZG7Ig_k51CV4nzMRhgV_9W3PUA60X_RDSt5jEDpuTS2gccGZwUOY93C4J86hS6RrJaCQ4uP2jojilOIHxWKLzQmeli1AvvOaqQ0mRf1dmjujpLjTu76b4qFfKELtke4F5vNQqdXCLt/s640/blogger-image-1340615444.jpg"></a></div><br></div>So, as you see, lots of work in progress around our little Nassau Nest. Missing my Rasta Man but I will see him in May.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I had to sit out today's prompt for Magalys Dark Poetry For The Cruellest Month event</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="http://magalyguerrero.com/dark-poetry-for-the-cruellest-month-2016/">http://magalyguerrero.com/dark-poetry-for-the-cruellest-month-2016/</a>, but if you've the time, you should definitely head over and see what delightful morsels of poetic yumminess she and th other wicked darlings have conjured.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjielYcYysgRQBzFg4BZrzLb-MZRaVlrPY2fVbZVLsly2PtbzP7JhW2WjFXyvUzTDBErVr8WBRlfsPd8C6oaBwYY0oaR9bUsFrg-fay9ESFNZNPGu9FBMFTC0_2lCisu_X-9vbS_2GTEF1/s640/blogger-image-1531047832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjielYcYysgRQBzFg4BZrzLb-MZRaVlrPY2fVbZVLsly2PtbzP7JhW2WjFXyvUzTDBErVr8WBRlfsPd8C6oaBwYY0oaR9bUsFrg-fay9ESFNZNPGu9FBMFTC0_2lCisu_X-9vbS_2GTEF1/s640/blogger-image-1531047832.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And while you're flying round witchy creative space head over to the Whimsical Cottage and see what Danni has going on for her Work in Progress Wednesday. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGZzwpCuK4sUYGYpv7ER5Kv78fqizjIEWGyh0edA6kmf4SbKMyCSuLZuwegZeaZXxWjaSsvs38sPB8K6UwPgO6Qj6kJNtRUad0c5srmvRJChS6wrTbM52cYIFdzP6j-rrnfNqejRhqk18/s640/blogger-image-1101200777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGZzwpCuK4sUYGYpv7ER5Kv78fqizjIEWGyh0edA6kmf4SbKMyCSuLZuwegZeaZXxWjaSsvs38sPB8K6UwPgO6Qj6kJNtRUad0c5srmvRJChS6wrTbM52cYIFdzP6j-rrnfNqejRhqk18/s640/blogger-image-1101200777.jpg"></font></a></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-30267479031891578242016-04-04T07:25:00.001-07:002016-04-04T07:33:20.183-07:00Lament For LusciousWhile many celebrate and write birthday songs for a certain Witchy Aries, because she asked it of her devotees here: <a href="http://magalyguerrero.com/write-me-a-birthday-dirge-dark-poetry-for-the-cruellest-month-2016-day-2/">http://magalyguerrero.com/write-me-a-birthday-dirge-dark-poetry-for-the-cruellest-month-2016-day-2/</a><div>I used today's prompt to remember the forgotten midwife in this dirge-worthy day.</div><div>The woman who may have welcomed the creature into this world and paid with her life; poor Luscious the Midwife, or Comadrona, in her native Spanish.</div><div><br></div><div>The sorrowful song of Luscious, La Comadrona was recorded so her daughter's never forget, </div><div>"When birthing a witch, never wear</div><div>Eau de Parfum, Mango"</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXWUfH6OVboTPH_om3w9O2ryzz9iDKCh8QgnocOiEy8B_rV1JWRtgbuMevmOWCf2bv9kc1YT2m4gMANVTC33FMH4uLNkkpmqdIL2ZUG7SpiA1i5aUbm4TVK_0PWSXIXxwJnIDqKv4n0Wr/s640/blogger-image-1426803088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyXWUfH6OVboTPH_om3w9O2ryzz9iDKCh8QgnocOiEy8B_rV1JWRtgbuMevmOWCf2bv9kc1YT2m4gMANVTC33FMH4uLNkkpmqdIL2ZUG7SpiA1i5aUbm4TVK_0PWSXIXxwJnIDqKv4n0Wr/s640/blogger-image-1426803088.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>LAMENT FOR LUSCIOUS</div><div><br></div><div>Oh sorrowful song</div><div>Shrugged from shoulder to shoulder </div><div>Of salt-air breeze</div><div>Whisper' in shadow</div><div>Behind velvet fronds</div><div>Of coconut trees</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhka4cl0p4zkGj2p7EVdMXz9apr-YLl1XVTNNnzVysEwkWlFinxhnz6Wri_9nNnSjU_biY64s1qdmW0MMfoHlx2Xuxy1R2K4SCvxOLRMqZYAW8NXt_PKiI7DZ2CakjIKipkm-wFxDrMPYdH/s640/blogger-image--1686468326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhka4cl0p4zkGj2p7EVdMXz9apr-YLl1XVTNNnzVysEwkWlFinxhnz6Wri_9nNnSjU_biY64s1qdmW0MMfoHlx2Xuxy1R2K4SCvxOLRMqZYAW8NXt_PKiI7DZ2CakjIKipkm-wFxDrMPYdH/s640/blogger-image--1686468326.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Of claw'd talons grasp'd</div><div>'Round el cuello</div><div>Of a comadrona</div><div>And no one helped</div><div>Pry the fang less maw from her vein.</div><div>Nadie, ni sola una persona.</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduKyrlYcTVPly4d5zHaq5JLIroYBwFd226rHdOT7age7f5X76ffQX9rJSht4LBrhhEfhvixzMQrsv_kdhb8kW63ZeuQfPm9qLcLjg6pjlBUQdrNQueJB0fEjnKQ9DFmM05SZg560-h9TU/s640/blogger-image--1057355175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduKyrlYcTVPly4d5zHaq5JLIroYBwFd226rHdOT7age7f5X76ffQX9rJSht4LBrhhEfhvixzMQrsv_kdhb8kW63ZeuQfPm9qLcLjg6pjlBUQdrNQueJB0fEjnKQ9DFmM05SZg560-h9TU/s640/blogger-image--1057355175.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div>Now we sing of her,</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Luscious La Comadrona</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">How it happen so </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">...never forget!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">When birth'n a witchlin' ne'r wear</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Eau de Parfum Mango</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6d41QFAEKw5x7aFH_dVFvJeucldfbnrOJWqvSM0stTJN2tdhrVVJDC6NsgYtWlYht9g0NeBxckRZEawTFzAHuOlJtP_C-WZSXmenmBUpptowMbZmarf3U8z9NVUNyzlp5c_SeWe6U2x7/s640/blogger-image--2032679478.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT6d41QFAEKw5x7aFH_dVFvJeucldfbnrOJWqvSM0stTJN2tdhrVVJDC6NsgYtWlYht9g0NeBxckRZEawTFzAHuOlJtP_C-WZSXmenmBUpptowMbZmarf3U8z9NVUNyzlp5c_SeWe6U2x7/s640/blogger-image--2032679478.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Thank you for remembering Luscious with me as we celebrate the birth of the Witchiest of mango-addicted writers. Happy birthday, Magaly! </div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-81571272789060708112016-04-02T15:04:00.001-07:002016-04-02T15:04:39.837-07:00Keep The Dog Far Hence - poetry for the cruelest month<div>I had a good life</div><div>I chased seagulls, lizards, and people</div><div>Just me and my Human.</div><div>Alone on our island </div><div>He was sick, but he recovered.</div><div>He named me Kemosabe</div><div>I was a friend.</div><div>After the treatment </div><div>He called me Kemo.</div><div>I guarded.</div><div>I comforted.</div><div>The supply plane came in</div><div>The buzzing drove me mad, </div><div>I bit the wheels, the wings as it landed</div><div>The last thing I tasted was the propeller...</div><div>The new puppy is cute</div><div>Who the hell needs cute?</div>Oh keep the dog far hence,<div> that's friend to [My Human]</div><div>My spirit will never leave the cay.</div><div>My body feeds palm trees and orchids now, </div><div>But my spirit remains.</div><div>I forever guard.</div><div>I shall not rest.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1d0nbK17k61zw7NEUcCsXyuAaAp-lgNk-Lg-KsbpE4Tb9MY5fk11iXhQ_ufhfxDSQVOvVOQgRAwTVxPuvYcIWFLVzwxbTC0Toz6oCXh1DAgmWFzGPWHtWjALD0kHqW7rrznJMTj3me3zV/s640/blogger-image-1595701631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1d0nbK17k61zw7NEUcCsXyuAaAp-lgNk-Lg-KsbpE4Tb9MY5fk11iXhQ_ufhfxDSQVOvVOQgRAwTVxPuvYcIWFLVzwxbTC0Toz6oCXh1DAgmWFzGPWHtWjALD0kHqW7rrznJMTj3me3zV/s640/blogger-image-1595701631.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-46588899502968708562016-03-23T12:42:00.001-07:002016-03-23T12:45:44.624-07:00Work-in-Progress WednesdayWell here it is the day nearly over, and I've just remembered about Work In Progress Wednesday.<div>I'm glad that I remembered though, as it gives me a chance to sit down with a cup of tea and catch up with you all.</div><div>By now you'll have realized that my previous blog, Love, Light, and Wine/Catch Afire is no more.</div><div>Let us not dwell on it. </div><div><br></div><div>Let's jump right in with the fun stuff!</div><div>How was your Equinox, Lovelies? How did you observe it? I was feeling like a bit of formality would be nice this Ostara, so I spent a good bit of time on my altar and ritual.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAkF97zv0dnawTNb5YKYY5Z3NgjKhqcQnj5YVU_Tq5R85BIBIe9X8EgqB5Dw_T3HyK1r7Xv8Eyyu3fCebQJ2D0hY_sCiM_ImkXfJAHgCq-zyzdRaY-iQAZ9sHqiebNsoANBjUHfOGuMIB/s640/blogger-image-661880918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAkF97zv0dnawTNb5YKYY5Z3NgjKhqcQnj5YVU_Tq5R85BIBIe9X8EgqB5Dw_T3HyK1r7Xv8Eyyu3fCebQJ2D0hY_sCiM_ImkXfJAHgCq-zyzdRaY-iQAZ9sHqiebNsoANBjUHfOGuMIB/s640/blogger-image-661880918.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It took all day to complete, but it was wonderful putting everything else aside and sinking all my energy into creating pretties and sacred space for what feeds my soul.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKe2RsTZ8N48t20C1DNE2Hg6DLZKi7-hMUBQ3g0mQPX5Gc5g3szzhgqj7q-aa7SA1sh7PI9kv4ORm6NovGrUtEnGQ8h14gEbItiZTS8PJ2lVJ1oMdMoHpHea2vXdd8FTvMVZz7Uu7s2-X/s640/blogger-image--1948531145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmKe2RsTZ8N48t20C1DNE2Hg6DLZKi7-hMUBQ3g0mQPX5Gc5g3szzhgqj7q-aa7SA1sh7PI9kv4ORm6NovGrUtEnGQ8h14gEbItiZTS8PJ2lVJ1oMdMoHpHea2vXdd8FTvMVZz7Uu7s2-X/s640/blogger-image--1948531145.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I painted night and day bunnies on sea grape leaves and blessed them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvYVCbGJaypexdR4S_hy6NAnoa2gQ6ugZ2L0e1_ndN4ONuT-bvyYOian_5z08w0mRFmWRaD6xk6OEoK_DcfOvzmw3HbjoX2Ig_0DreeKsmgyqdfIqgrtnDSKW0xECZpFaCfsus1BBMjHP/s640/blogger-image--302636210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvYVCbGJaypexdR4S_hy6NAnoa2gQ6ugZ2L0e1_ndN4ONuT-bvyYOian_5z08w0mRFmWRaD6xk6OEoK_DcfOvzmw3HbjoX2Ig_0DreeKsmgyqdfIqgrtnDSKW0xECZpFaCfsus1BBMjHP/s640/blogger-image--302636210.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I laid out a rather large tarot spread, supper to share with the spirits and Divine, and made an eggshell candle and planter. Recently I found a crows feather and an owls feather, so they hold a place of honor in The East. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHuMlBeKrK6EZcFCMgK7OPmb62CrzuFsMr2gbTBbeg6WKRqYRqO1ffDPPIMfJfBqRzCRmB2eubrHxnO9ItrT5WArGA0ItSYJVZUAlwqjpuR6cJ4e0AyA1YKjAsM9kHo8Y867hRv-TAO_5/s640/blogger-image--411328202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioHuMlBeKrK6EZcFCMgK7OPmb62CrzuFsMr2gbTBbeg6WKRqYRqO1ffDPPIMfJfBqRzCRmB2eubrHxnO9ItrT5WArGA0ItSYJVZUAlwqjpuR6cJ4e0AyA1YKjAsM9kHo8Y867hRv-TAO_5/s640/blogger-image--411328202.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After the day time activities I bagged and tagged the bunnies and took them out when Anubis and I went for our walk to abandon them. I've abandoned several pieces of work now as part of this Random Acts of Art group, and I love it. I get a little rush off of it, and almost feel like a little kids getting away with something naughty. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRf4XeZCo8EtaNwTLasJafC56iUg1x28otJ_lr70vd8vecMSnC4pOvdJweGYgn9mcFtJ3VcdLXvTX-F4u6JLrGHS0BO0oWrsE0yFxDWriSfQCfjmK3ZEaZHxvvZ6jrtC0WjLLgqtB0mJig/s640/blogger-image-950312323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRf4XeZCo8EtaNwTLasJafC56iUg1x28otJ_lr70vd8vecMSnC4pOvdJweGYgn9mcFtJ3VcdLXvTX-F4u6JLrGHS0BO0oWrsE0yFxDWriSfQCfjmK3ZEaZHxvvZ6jrtC0WjLLgqtB0mJig/s640/blogger-image-950312323.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When we got back from our walk I washed and used my fancy yummy smelling body oil and then did my hair in elaborate twists and braids that you can't see. I put on a lovely sexy red dress and a sheer duster over it and sat down inside sacred space to hear what the Universe had to say.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOVHXbJINWK61wFv5y6uNHJXH9DJE4byxAXKgSvr92ZWq0B61Jt_m6rH2KTV46Nw4US0PsWPfvOBmFdZexhRHxPNwXcb3QTxyQar7mJMU7IzVqXhOrcSRHX85XQtBMg87BaRmkUkTw837/s640/blogger-image--1148952750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOVHXbJINWK61wFv5y6uNHJXH9DJE4byxAXKgSvr92ZWq0B61Jt_m6rH2KTV46Nw4US0PsWPfvOBmFdZexhRHxPNwXcb3QTxyQar7mJMU7IzVqXhOrcSRHX85XQtBMg87BaRmkUkTw837/s640/blogger-image--1148952750.jpg"></a></div>After enjoying some good light food and tea I was wound up, so I decided to work on a gift for a friend who just lost his beloved dog in an airplane accident. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCKKQPSwkrDoFYrbwU4w-t2GO_O7HsCAvrAdVjph8J4GuHRzNHj7VnaSiX5ZSIFwcoTjNA_S_aXFk3VqP3FAHtxxxY_MKJn_toEAxRkDpFID9lvuy0AAhMjE0FMcSLwwItyusmoUDcHp7/s640/blogger-image--1227886247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCKKQPSwkrDoFYrbwU4w-t2GO_O7HsCAvrAdVjph8J4GuHRzNHj7VnaSiX5ZSIFwcoTjNA_S_aXFk3VqP3FAHtxxxY_MKJn_toEAxRkDpFID9lvuy0AAhMjE0FMcSLwwItyusmoUDcHp7/s640/blogger-image--1227886247.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nfU94-1ktNEzHzEG3A4WsjjBXnFafOLXDblFNQmieX5n9X8fEbsqj3I1diJgwGzuWX4JoOa_Fi4Dv-SbL7r-4ORzaDi2ORo8D9NUarCvTSeeIS0sZjujkK1qKEI2YK-qwyKtJ1T1Zp4S/s640/blogger-image-236655784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6nfU94-1ktNEzHzEG3A4WsjjBXnFafOLXDblFNQmieX5n9X8fEbsqj3I1diJgwGzuWX4JoOa_Fi4Dv-SbL7r-4ORzaDi2ORo8D9NUarCvTSeeIS0sZjujkK1qKEI2YK-qwyKtJ1T1Zp4S/s640/blogger-image-236655784.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGWbHTvOeo0XBuQKo9AltJtx5Ti386O9XUS4hU_oGSErdlCwAbzQLciOo_gdUp1JbkUHbB_1xxEFmspYhNLh7At5yG9jN35BSXWfIEe1V_9Jy0tNT08Uf0qNhGONiqrR-YBTomzipAaoK/s640/blogger-image-937164441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisGWbHTvOeo0XBuQKo9AltJtx5Ti386O9XUS4hU_oGSErdlCwAbzQLciOo_gdUp1JbkUHbB_1xxEFmspYhNLh7At5yG9jN35BSXWfIEe1V_9Jy0tNT08Uf0qNhGONiqrR-YBTomzipAaoK/s640/blogger-image-937164441.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's coming along, but not as quickly as I would like. I'm having focus issues.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZRy8oLLPhBRvmdaT-SNgMSF0fRr6WQVOO6gs4xq6KDtzFYsZj1Sz6GUYb5GRKo5VC4jYZ205Q76n9Lahz9hHJFggfFg1Vi849gROktFf_vL_a8PY_j63ZcJbWA_rdMDJNBu2rlEVE7xN/s640/blogger-image-248496018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiZRy8oLLPhBRvmdaT-SNgMSF0fRr6WQVOO6gs4xq6KDtzFYsZj1Sz6GUYb5GRKo5VC4jYZ205Q76n9Lahz9hHJFggfFg1Vi849gROktFf_vL_a8PY_j63ZcJbWA_rdMDJNBu2rlEVE7xN/s640/blogger-image-248496018.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyHP70_SNl8QdrJFhNJObUU7bqi_UMj5mHG4JTUstus6PGd-JwxWaKAHxL44lL9Y8FPD9_n_L5uXY4cHloj-fNan-oyS9Plky5sdOk1kGSbcKEN_qfNagR4ZIfEer8OZ4YCYUVBGhAkmk6/s640/blogger-image-79853123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyHP70_SNl8QdrJFhNJObUU7bqi_UMj5mHG4JTUstus6PGd-JwxWaKAHxL44lL9Y8FPD9_n_L5uXY4cHloj-fNan-oyS9Plky5sdOk1kGSbcKEN_qfNagR4ZIfEer8OZ4YCYUVBGhAkmk6/s640/blogger-image-79853123.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5PVbWPtNJyeXOP4NdDgN_bce2DNmPy4ATtmKaKfDXf28frasMxexMWiLs02CZH_QSFlam_aW8cEnyYIKCHtbRSotKpPhIfenhT2T-7SlmZL6oyVQP5nNl9liH1s0mXLAuDB689Ch9Pp1r/s640/blogger-image-1585980336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5PVbWPtNJyeXOP4NdDgN_bce2DNmPy4ATtmKaKfDXf28frasMxexMWiLs02CZH_QSFlam_aW8cEnyYIKCHtbRSotKpPhIfenhT2T-7SlmZL6oyVQP5nNl9liH1s0mXLAuDB689Ch9Pp1r/s640/blogger-image-1585980336.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm also packing, packing, packing. My sister found me the most amazing little cabin in the mountains, so I'm letting my apartment in the city go, and chartering a flight to Florida. Anubis and I will drive north, and Stephen will join us in a couple few months.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Here is my darling little place.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFS2DyHvJCTyKDaQNa1gfBRUZJEqzlUg1vxTAVcMWm1xfevPsNItdvq_0TyxCk9Ssy6xc5J4270gTRsVD3VIFd-NSCBouZHeYsttW-K49LFk-N0S1yBz8Wib-gR2IaQLhwKaLftDPH5Hx/s640/blogger-image-1617578018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFS2DyHvJCTyKDaQNa1gfBRUZJEqzlUg1vxTAVcMWm1xfevPsNItdvq_0TyxCk9Ssy6xc5J4270gTRsVD3VIFd-NSCBouZHeYsttW-K49LFk-N0S1yBz8Wib-gR2IaQLhwKaLftDPH5Hx/s640/blogger-image-1617578018.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What do you have going on, my dears? What's your Work In Progress?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm going to head on over to see what Danni has going on at her Whimsical Cottage. I know she won't mind if y'all tag along...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="http://thewhimsicalcottage.blogspot.com/2016/03/art-journal-happiness.html">http://thewhimsicalcottage.blogspot.com/2016/03/art-journal-happiness.html</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGZzwpCuK4sUYGYpv7ER5Kv78fqizjIEWGyh0edA6kmf4SbKMyCSuLZuwegZeaZXxWjaSsvs38sPB8K6UwPgO6Qj6kJNtRUad0c5srmvRJChS6wrTbM52cYIFdzP6j-rrnfNqejRhqk18/s640/blogger-image-1101200777.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGZzwpCuK4sUYGYpv7ER5Kv78fqizjIEWGyh0edA6kmf4SbKMyCSuLZuwegZeaZXxWjaSsvs38sPB8K6UwPgO6Qj6kJNtRUad0c5srmvRJChS6wrTbM52cYIFdzP6j-rrnfNqejRhqk18/s640/blogger-image-1101200777.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03991715339902754763noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-540805366667217392.post-69424945523127852572016-03-17T13:36:00.000-07:002016-03-17T13:36:04.924-07:00Work-In-Progress Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGD0tufuSLnyhNNAtcDiHLOuB1Xm9-cGg53-dMyzktAFGNnzaPiE5mn3YI83AKKwHzOb7suO-SGt2gZmznVU7fR2n6rEpXSDiUT_exK_hTcq5PEGauGlBo9t5ta4VOr1pxDsIvvK4exKEk/s1600/2213661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGD0tufuSLnyhNNAtcDiHLOuB1Xm9-cGg53-dMyzktAFGNnzaPiE5mn3YI83AKKwHzOb7suO-SGt2gZmznVU7fR2n6rEpXSDiUT_exK_hTcq5PEGauGlBo9t5ta4VOr1pxDsIvvK4exKEk/s320/2213661.jpg" width="206" /></a></div>
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"You're always you, and that don't change, and you're always changing, and there's nothing you can do about it."
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<a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/1221698.Neil_Gaiman" title="Neil Gaiman quotes">Neil Gaiman</a>
(<a class="authorOrTitle" href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2213661.The_Graveyard_Book">The Graveyard Book</a>) </div>
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I am me. I am the me-est me that I can be. Only I can be me. You cannot be me. He cannot be me. Neither can she. Only I can be me. I have always been me, and always will be me.</div>
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The me I am today is so very different from the me of a few years ago, but still very much the same. </div>
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That me was squashed into a box that was too small. </div>
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At some point I had to give it all up; the trying-to-fit-in, the living-up-to-other-peoples-expectations, the putting-myself-last-and-others-first... Give that shit up. The best day of my life, the day when I really and truly start living, is the day that I started living for ME. </div>
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If you're feeling stuck in Life, try it. Take a class without consulting another human being. Stop at the cute little bistro you keep driving past. Take the last piece of pizza. Say no when you are already busy. Follow the advice you give to other people, and be as gentle with yourself as you are with them. </div>
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That's the problem, you know; we hold ourselves to a higher standard than those around us. We think we should magically be able to handle everything Life throws at us and never lean on other people. We think we should always "Have it together". We should always be attractive, non-confrontational, never swear or raise our voices, always be pleasant...our lives shouldn't make other people uncomfortable. This, of course, is utter hogwash. </div>
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You are just as important as the person next to you whom you offer solace to; solace you deny yourself; encouraging thoughts you deny yourself. You are just as important...Nay! More important than that next person, for who is more important in your life than You? </div>
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After all, it's your life, and you are the only person qualified to live it. Remember that. Write it down and paste it on the wall if you have to, but remember it. Treat yourself like you treat others. </div>
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We are all a Work In Progress. We are all doing the best that we know how in this crazy life that didn't come with an instruction manual.</div>
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<a href="http://www.urbanpoetica.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/frida-kahlo-women-strange-quote-feminist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.urbanpoetica.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/frida-kahlo-women-strange-quote-feminist.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Be gentle with yourself and others. Celebrate your differences. </div>
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In love, Don't be afraid to cut and run. When a thing has run its course, do not stay just to keep others happy. Your soul will wind up suffocated then dead and rotting and spoil that common spring from which we all drink. When you hurt yourself you hurt All. </div>
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Above all, forgive yourself. Let me say it again...FORGIVE YOURSELF!!!</div>
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This new blog space is me forgiving myself. I made mistakes, but I don't deserve to be punished for them forever. I deserve to start fresh, and fully embrace who and what I am. This is me doing that.</div>
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I am a Work In Progress. I have Rapid Cycling BiPolar Disorder Type 1. My moods soar and plummet on an hourly basis throughout the day. It is exhausting, and it is not something anyone can see from the outside. I am not ashamed. I have tried several times to kill myself with alcohol and medications and done a good bit of damage to my liver and kidneys in the process. I am not ashamed. My medical team and I are working on getting my chemical imbalance stabilized with medication.</div>
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I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that affects my day to day living and prevents me from holding a job. I am not ashamed. My therapist and I are working it out and I am learning Coping Skills that better manage my symptoms (apparently breaking plates isn't an acceptable form of anger expression). I have Trigeminal Neuralgia, a debilitating pain condition that causes nerves in my face to misfire leaving trails of white hot lighting in their wake. I do not take medication for this since conventional pain killers don't touch nerve pain. I study herbs and alternative treatments and treat my pain this way (while being cognizant of possible interactions between prescribed and alternative meds.). I (and most of my famliy) suffer from Celiac Disease. Our bodies do not produce the enzymes needed to breakdown and process gluten. I am not ashamed. </div>
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I am the only liberal in my immediate family, and I am not sorry. I shall refrain from cramming my beliefs in equal rights for all, and humane treatment of animals down your throats, and only ask the same. I will not try to bring you to kneel before The Mother or The Father or dance round my fire on my holidays or for my personal spiritual observances.</div>
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I don't like to be around firearms as a personal preference, but if you are a responsible adult who has undergone extensive mental health screening and been approved for gun ownership, then more power to you. </div>
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I don't have it all figured out, and I don't pretend to.</div>
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I'm a Work In Progress. Just like my art. Just like this blog. </div>
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Just like you.</div>
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