Tonight my husband and I had a dream date-- for me it's going to see a movie, then going to a book store. Sheer bliss. We saw National Treasure with Nicholas Cage who I think is a stallion but I don't know why-- he is almost scary looking. We ate out and we just wandered around the store. I was going to buy my childrens' god mother a thank you note then decided to buy her the thank you notes! And we got their godfather a cool travel mug.
I came home to my husband having bought me a Far Side anthology and a Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. I sat on the bed not knowing which to read first but the Far Side won.
My eldest is driving me crazy. She has various complicated situations and calls me, usually at 11pm or so, frustrated and needing to talk. If I give her advice she doesn't use it. If I don't, she thinks I am not validating her. Very frustrating.
My cold is lingering and my ears are running. I have NEVER had my ears run. They seemed to clear up which was good, but tonight they got stuffy again. The cough is getting better, then it gets worse. My daughter just went to a birthday party and said that several were not there because of this illness. It is going around.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
Maybe it's not confusing. . .
Last week I spoke to a volunteer coordinator about things I'd like to do. I told her that I was getting a minor in art and she told me to send her an e-mail. She cc'd me as she sent it out several places and today I met with a cancer specialist who is coordinating art with his center. I told him of the directions I have been going in and he said, "Yes. Do all of them! Do not limit yourself. All these ideas lead to here."
It was amazing. I met his art coordinator who is a dynamic lady who explained to me that they need volunteers to facilitate art. I can also get paid but for now I want to just work along side her.
I was floored to say the least. I may be able to do my writing internship with them later. It is shocking to see how much is needed and how what I have been trying to decide on can all be wrapped up into a job later.
I am not writing this very well-- I am excited.
Later-- I'm mad. I found some paperwork from 16 years ago. I'd applied to Lesley College to get into art therapy. I let my parents and brother talk me out of it-- they laughed at me. I changed my major and everything (I changed majors a lot) and then got pregnant with dd3 between marriages. I remember the whole period. They complained about everything I wanted to do! They told me what a fucked up life I had when I was pregnant with dd3-- yet I kept going.
Anyway, I realize that I am getting back on track. I can't do an art therapy master's degree because I cannot uproot my family for two years. My husband did say that the program that I am looking at for healing arts (you have residencies for ten days each semester) is quite do-able and with his job being like it is, we can do it.
Here I am, close to doing what I loved then. Older, hopefully wiser with nine kids. Who'd have believed how much I could have done before getting back to it?
It was amazing. I met his art coordinator who is a dynamic lady who explained to me that they need volunteers to facilitate art. I can also get paid but for now I want to just work along side her.
I was floored to say the least. I may be able to do my writing internship with them later. It is shocking to see how much is needed and how what I have been trying to decide on can all be wrapped up into a job later.
I am not writing this very well-- I am excited.
Later-- I'm mad. I found some paperwork from 16 years ago. I'd applied to Lesley College to get into art therapy. I let my parents and brother talk me out of it-- they laughed at me. I changed my major and everything (I changed majors a lot) and then got pregnant with dd3 between marriages. I remember the whole period. They complained about everything I wanted to do! They told me what a fucked up life I had when I was pregnant with dd3-- yet I kept going.
Anyway, I realize that I am getting back on track. I can't do an art therapy master's degree because I cannot uproot my family for two years. My husband did say that the program that I am looking at for healing arts (you have residencies for ten days each semester) is quite do-able and with his job being like it is, we can do it.
Here I am, close to doing what I loved then. Older, hopefully wiser with nine kids. Who'd have believed how much I could have done before getting back to it?
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
I'm sitting on a rock at a fork in the River of Life
Today my husband took the kids and himself to his sisters. I am chilling out. I woke up after keeping him up most of the night with my coughing. He gave me some cold medicine and a drink with alcohol and handed me a sleeping pill. I needed it. I feel much better.
I am contemplative.
There are three things that I can see myself doing as a career.
The massage school would be great but he asked if I can take sporadic classes offered to the public for "fun" like couples massage and sports massage for lay people and just practice on him and let him work on me. That is great. He doesn't think that I would like simply working on people all day, that I'd wind up being like dental assistants who are needy and walk to talk to me and I am wanting to scream, "Shut up and work on my mouth!" (I wind up switching dentists when they do that.) He says my temperament is interactive and sometimes contemplative, but that massage is too introverted for me to do eight hours a day.
He says that I am an artist. He said that when he met me that I was stunning and pretty and "full of creative life force" and that he cannot see me not doing art. He says that art in all it's forms is what I am about. I said it is expensive but he said that it is what I am meant to do. He says that art shines a light for others to see and experience life and that I can help people learn to use it and do some good work myself. Sometimes I tell him about things that I want to create and he says he was often thinking of me doing the same thing. He says that my muses bug him when they don't get my attention and he says something like refers to a song, "Could you draw that?" and I get spooked because I was thinking of it. I do not understand it. He says I have to run with it because I am supposed to.
I was grateful for him talking to me.
I am contemplative.
There are three things that I can see myself doing as a career.
- Writing grants for a hospital or any organization (I can keep up with my English degree and stop here if I want. I love college and cannot stop. I am an academic.)
- Massage therapy because I love it (I need massage training which is expensive and my husband needs to replace his car as it's been totaled out with 250,000 miles and everything has been breaking. I have some money left over but I need to put it into my husband's car more than me.)
- Art therapy (requires a master's degree and I get to not get out of art. I have a college chosen.)
The massage school would be great but he asked if I can take sporadic classes offered to the public for "fun" like couples massage and sports massage for lay people and just practice on him and let him work on me. That is great. He doesn't think that I would like simply working on people all day, that I'd wind up being like dental assistants who are needy and walk to talk to me and I am wanting to scream, "Shut up and work on my mouth!" (I wind up switching dentists when they do that.) He says my temperament is interactive and sometimes contemplative, but that massage is too introverted for me to do eight hours a day.
He says that I am an artist. He said that when he met me that I was stunning and pretty and "full of creative life force" and that he cannot see me not doing art. He says that art in all it's forms is what I am about. I said it is expensive but he said that it is what I am meant to do. He says that art shines a light for others to see and experience life and that I can help people learn to use it and do some good work myself. Sometimes I tell him about things that I want to create and he says he was often thinking of me doing the same thing. He says that my muses bug him when they don't get my attention and he says something like refers to a song, "Could you draw that?" and I get spooked because I was thinking of it. I do not understand it. He says I have to run with it because I am supposed to.
I was grateful for him talking to me.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Beautiful Morning, Santa and the Banana Creme Pie and Rubber Duckie Invasion
I am still sick. This cold is going to try to kill me, I know it!
The morning was great. The kids came into our room at 7 and asked if they could get into their stockings. I said yes and threw on my bathrobe to join them. The Pokemon cards had been found and the boys were already trading and laughing, "I can get you with my 130 power! Haha! This is so righteously rare!"
I reminded them that they had PRESENTS to open. My mother-- as much as she frustrates me, can only show her love since she is so damned far away and doesn't really like little kids-- through her presents. She is very affectionate! Everything was exquisite and wrapped with her flare. You don't want to unwrap my mother's gifts as they are so nicely done, and then once you get inside-- you are glad that you did! She gave the kids cool souvenirs from her trips and toys-- and my husband some techno gadgets that impressed him that she knew about. For me it was Godiva chocolates and a pretty Coldwater Creek top with turquoise jewelry. I don't need the compliments to feel good, but they sure don't hurt. When I wear things that she gives me, I stand out in a great way. I can't wait to wear this to see one of my friends who owns a boutique and she will see it through my jacket and help me take it off so she can see the blouse. THAT is how stunning the things are that my mother gives me!
I put a gold box of candy in each stocking and a rubber duckie along with other presents. By the time we sat down to eat, my four year old son had collected them all and was sorting them by color and was making them circle the table.
I must be learning my Russian-- my eldest gave me a pretty tryptich of a Russian saint story and I could read the story that went with it and understand a few words.
Later--
My four year old has been putting the duckies at everyone's seats and under pillowcases. What have I created?!! He is very funny. He put a duckie on a remote control car that my mother gave him and was sending it around the house.
I'm thinking of my dad today. You all know how Santa supposedly likes chocolate chip cookies? In our house, Santa liked Banana Creme Pie which was, shock of all shocks, also my dad's favorite pie! When I was four I wanted to put out cookies as my best friend did that and my dad's eyes lit up, "I think we should save the banana creme pie for Santa." I did not like banana creme pie and said fine, but my mother & sisters (who knew Santa's identity and liked banana cream pie) and he got into a friendly argument. I put out cookies and there was a note, "Dear Miss Tea, everyone gives me chocolate chip cookies. Next year please leave a full pie for me. Love, Santa." I put out a banana cream pie for him after that. It's good that he didn't ask for Bavarian Cream as I'd have never parted with it!
My husband got me a book of Kaethe Kollwitz, a German artist from the turn of the last century. I've been reading it all day. Last spring when my art professor told me that I had lines and depth similar to hers, I responded with, "You are so sweet!" My professor shook her head at me and wrote her name down on a piece of paper and said, "Go home and look her up before you open your mouth." I went home and looked her up. I almost didn't go back to my drawing class! Her work is raw and ugly-- it can be raw and ugly, but it also depicts joy. Most of it is painful. Kaiser Wilhelm called her a gutter artist. He ousted her from a few academies. Kaethe didn't draw flowers and hummingbirds and pretty things; she drew from real life. She was a trained artist who was married to a doctor in Berlin. They lived all right but he served his patients and lived amongst them with his family on the wrong side of the tracks. I have quite a few of her books already, but her diary and letters are moving.
I'm having an urge to learn to work with clay. It's too late to sign up for a pottery class, but hopefully next fall I will be able to. Of course I have more in mind than spinning pots-- I have some sculptures in my head that I want to do.
The morning was great. The kids came into our room at 7 and asked if they could get into their stockings. I said yes and threw on my bathrobe to join them. The Pokemon cards had been found and the boys were already trading and laughing, "I can get you with my 130 power! Haha! This is so righteously rare!"
I reminded them that they had PRESENTS to open. My mother-- as much as she frustrates me, can only show her love since she is so damned far away and doesn't really like little kids-- through her presents. She is very affectionate! Everything was exquisite and wrapped with her flare. You don't want to unwrap my mother's gifts as they are so nicely done, and then once you get inside-- you are glad that you did! She gave the kids cool souvenirs from her trips and toys-- and my husband some techno gadgets that impressed him that she knew about. For me it was Godiva chocolates and a pretty Coldwater Creek top with turquoise jewelry. I don't need the compliments to feel good, but they sure don't hurt. When I wear things that she gives me, I stand out in a great way. I can't wait to wear this to see one of my friends who owns a boutique and she will see it through my jacket and help me take it off so she can see the blouse. THAT is how stunning the things are that my mother gives me!
I put a gold box of candy in each stocking and a rubber duckie along with other presents. By the time we sat down to eat, my four year old son had collected them all and was sorting them by color and was making them circle the table.
I must be learning my Russian-- my eldest gave me a pretty tryptich of a Russian saint story and I could read the story that went with it and understand a few words.
Later--
My four year old has been putting the duckies at everyone's seats and under pillowcases. What have I created?!! He is very funny. He put a duckie on a remote control car that my mother gave him and was sending it around the house.
I'm thinking of my dad today. You all know how Santa supposedly likes chocolate chip cookies? In our house, Santa liked Banana Creme Pie which was, shock of all shocks, also my dad's favorite pie! When I was four I wanted to put out cookies as my best friend did that and my dad's eyes lit up, "I think we should save the banana creme pie for Santa." I did not like banana creme pie and said fine, but my mother & sisters (who knew Santa's identity and liked banana cream pie) and he got into a friendly argument. I put out cookies and there was a note, "Dear Miss Tea, everyone gives me chocolate chip cookies. Next year please leave a full pie for me. Love, Santa." I put out a banana cream pie for him after that. It's good that he didn't ask for Bavarian Cream as I'd have never parted with it!
My husband got me a book of Kaethe Kollwitz, a German artist from the turn of the last century. I've been reading it all day. Last spring when my art professor told me that I had lines and depth similar to hers, I responded with, "You are so sweet!" My professor shook her head at me and wrote her name down on a piece of paper and said, "Go home and look her up before you open your mouth." I went home and looked her up. I almost didn't go back to my drawing class! Her work is raw and ugly-- it can be raw and ugly, but it also depicts joy. Most of it is painful. Kaiser Wilhelm called her a gutter artist. He ousted her from a few academies. Kaethe didn't draw flowers and hummingbirds and pretty things; she drew from real life. She was a trained artist who was married to a doctor in Berlin. They lived all right but he served his patients and lived amongst them with his family on the wrong side of the tracks. I have quite a few of her books already, but her diary and letters are moving.
I'm having an urge to learn to work with clay. It's too late to sign up for a pottery class, but hopefully next fall I will be able to. Of course I have more in mind than spinning pots-- I have some sculptures in my head that I want to do.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Joyeux Noelle!
Did I spell that correctly?
I have the kids running around. The middle ones are baking oatmeal cookies. The older ones are wrapping my last minute presents for each other and they are saying, "I know what Mom is getting you but it's so gauche to talk about what other people are getting each other." I guess they are practicing good manners? Hmmmmm. We'll see how terribly shocked they act when they open them in a few hours! (The more shocked they act tells me what the wrappers said!)
I spent the day in Town. I am wrapped up in a parka with a blanket over me as I type. I'm still freezing. It's not putting a damper on my excitement. The littlest ones are asking questions about Santa.
Last night my middle son asked me about Santa and "the bottom line" and how he can afford to make all the toys. I said that elves are cheap, like slave labor. He said, "Isn't that illegal?" It was quite funny as he mulled over this. He is a young Alex Keaton. He wants to believe in Santa but hsi friends say he's not real. I had him watch Polar Express. We are part of the faith that spawned the real Santa. . . one of my children is named for him. (He's also the patron saint of mariners. Funny story there.) Then he went into logistics, "Like, how can he get to every country? Rich kids get more, you can't say he cares as much for everyone." He exasperates me but I enjoyed it. He is thinking. I like to see him thinking about things.
I have the kids running around. The middle ones are baking oatmeal cookies. The older ones are wrapping my last minute presents for each other and they are saying, "I know what Mom is getting you but it's so gauche to talk about what other people are getting each other." I guess they are practicing good manners? Hmmmmm. We'll see how terribly shocked they act when they open them in a few hours! (The more shocked they act tells me what the wrappers said!)
I spent the day in Town. I am wrapped up in a parka with a blanket over me as I type. I'm still freezing. It's not putting a damper on my excitement. The littlest ones are asking questions about Santa.
Last night my middle son asked me about Santa and "the bottom line" and how he can afford to make all the toys. I said that elves are cheap, like slave labor. He said, "Isn't that illegal?" It was quite funny as he mulled over this. He is a young Alex Keaton. He wants to believe in Santa but hsi friends say he's not real. I had him watch Polar Express. We are part of the faith that spawned the real Santa. . . one of my children is named for him. (He's also the patron saint of mariners. Funny story there.) Then he went into logistics, "Like, how can he get to every country? Rich kids get more, you can't say he cares as much for everyone." He exasperates me but I enjoyed it. He is thinking. I like to see him thinking about things.
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