From the Roof Deck This Morning

Pete stuck an old pie box in the railing to block a spotlight from a neighbor's yard that shines too brightly at night.

I can't drink coffee anymore. No caffeine for me. There are a lot of things I can no longer consume at this time. I'm perimenopausal. If you haven't heard, and I hadn't, perimenopause can cause a gal's hormones to run amok and make  her an insane, discombobulated, miserable wretch. And damn, it can sneak up on you too. You don't realize you've lost it until, from out of nowhere, you get a blessed flash of clarity and you find yourself in the middle of a swamp with no solid ground in sight. 

I didn't think it was my hormones. I mean, the last five years have been very tumultuous and involved a great deal of change and loss. I just thought it was my crappy life that was getting me down. Only I don't really have a crappy life at all. Trauma and profound loss don't have to ruin every aspect of your life. I've taken some blows but my life is far from crappy overall. That lack of perspective is an example of how I'd slipped off the rails. It starts with legitimate trauma and then before you know it you're careening down a dark and bumpy road, unable to see the exit ramps. 

Fortunately a friend told me about The Hormone Cure, by Sara Gottfried. IT REALLY HELPED. First of all, it spoke to me. I had almost every possible symptom, especially sleeplessness, foggy-headedness and rage. RAGE! I read the book and thought "THIS BOOK IS ABOUT ME!" (See - all caps. I really did.)

Based on what I read in the book, I determined that I had high cortisol. I ended up having to give up both caffeine and booze. I was so desperate I couldn't wait to give them up. I dove right in. It's been five months now and it's been so worth it. Sanity is worth whatever I have to do to keep it. I'm also taking fish oil and a number of vitamins to support my healthy temperament. It's been an adjustment but, again, so worth it. 

However, decaf sux. Over the years I'd come to rely on a comforting warm beverage first thing in the morning. The caffeine buzz was delicious as well but I understand I have to let that go. I feel a bit sad about letting go of the warm comfort though. There have been days I've sipped warm water from my mug. I'm picky about flavor. I feel that if something doesn't taste good, why put it in your mouth? Green tea wasn't cutting it. Herbal tea neither. I actually like echinacea tea but I don't think one should drink that every day. Mostly I've gone with decaf, attempting to view it as not coffee but a drink in its own right. It's not a very good drink in its own right. Those are the breaks. Oh well. 

So here I am on my lovely, un-sucky roof deck on a beautiful early summer morning with my excellent mug. 

The tall tree in the background is named Sasha Fierce

Things are not perfect. (I haven't set up my summer planters yet. There's an old, greasy pie box shoved in the deck railing. How am I going to attract a following for my blog if I don't have beautiful photos of how I'm doing everything right?) Decaf is unrewarding. I can't "party" like I used to. But I have a nice life. 

Yoga Class #1

Well that was amazing. After years, probably almost twenty years, of toying with yoga and doing it once in a while because it's "good for me" I think the bug finally sunk its teeth in. I think I'm going to become a yoga freak.

Okay, just one class, who knows if a pattern will really develop but that felt life changing. 

I did a full-on backbend. I don't think I've done one of those since eighth grade! I wasn't at all sure I could do it then all of a sudden there I was, upside down, supporting my body weight on my arms stretched back over my shoulders and my legs doing what legs do (I guess). My mind was blown. It was almost like "where am I? What am I doing? Have I gone crazy?" Amazing. I live for amazement. 

One thing I hadn't thought about yesterday when I signed up was that I was going to have to get there wearing clothes and with a yoga mat. 

I don't want to make a huge, giant generalization here but SOME people have a pretty annoying air about them when they're coming and going from yoga class. Too smug and virtuous looking. I DON'T WANT TO BE THAT GUY! 

I'm a little too preoccupied with that. I want to look as awkward and schlumpy as possible on my yoga class commute. That right there is vanity. Just as bad as looking smug. Just don't think about what you look like. It's not important. Duh!

I was also uncomfortable walking to class in just the cropped leggings I feel totally fine about running in. I had to wear sweatpants. What a weirdo. 

I know I'll get over all that stupidness. Maybe I just did. I'm so lucky I got that two week pass. Extra incentive to actually go back and start to feel comfortable and maybe build a habit. The people in class were super nice and friendly. I do want to meet new people. 

So, go me! Yay yoga!

Girl Talk

A meaningless post of limited interest to anyone who isn't me. Just something I want to "get off my chest." HA HA HA! 'Cause it's about BRAS!

Okay, I guess I did lose A LOT of weight, particularly in the boob region because I don't have any anymore. No boobs. Now all my bras are huge and empty and crinkle like raisins under my clothes. I want to get rid of them all. Do people want secondhand bras? Maybe newer ones. I'll probably just toss 'em.

Anyway, I don't have (or don't want to spend) the time it takes to figure out what size I am now. Still, I'm old and saggy and vain enough to not want to go without. Gotta do something. 

I suppose I could get by with bikini tops until I feel like going through the rigamarole of solving my saggy mosquito bite problem. Maybe I could find myself some piña colada scented perfume and pretend I'm on vacation! So long, midwinter blahs!

It's hard for me to imagine getting midwinter blahs when I'm so excited to have my regular, not-Christmas, life back. I have projects I'm working on. I have experiments to do. My big goal over the next three months is to see if I can keep myself reasonably sane. 

My theory is that everything runs more smoothly if I'm sane. That sounds obvious. Think of all the undermining behaviors one gets up to when one is stressed out and feels constantly harried. Stress eating, impulse buying, watching too much T.V., otherwise self-medicating. It boils down to precious resource wasting: money, time, energy. If I can stay sane just look at all the everything I'll save.

But it can be hard to prioritize sanity. It's amazing how easy it is to put aside the simple things that keep me sane (like having enough time to myself or getting enough sleep) for accommodating other people.

It's going to be a big project. I will have to concentrate. I'll have to stick to my guns. I'm interested to see how it works out. So how could I develop midwinter blahs? I'm sure I'll manage. Everyone does.

Bikini tops under sweaters and fleece and down. Why not? It doesn't hurt to try. I love experiments.

A Favorite Thing

One of my favorite things that anyone's ever said about me is, "Daddy! That lady's a witch!" Perceptive kid.

Yeah, There Are Cuss Words In Here

Photo by Pete

Good morning everyone!

Isn't life confusing? So much to do, so much to think about. So much shit raining down on you, so many beautiful experiences to have at the same time. I pity the three pounds of mush that has to try to sort through it all for each one of us. What an experience!

Then there's all the stuff we don't take in because we aren't physically capable of it. Puny human mind boggling.

How am I supposed to pick a topic to blog about with all of these amazing, confusing things going on? The answer is, "Just fucking pick something."

Have I changed at all since June? Can you tell? Eh, whatevs. According to my meditation books (and a whole lot of science books) we're all changing all the time. Any perception of personal consistency we have is an illusion created by our brain. Brains are so cool. They make order for us where there is none. I wonder why we need it (order) so much?

So here's my topic for today: aging, mine specifically. I need to come to terms with it.

Yesterday I read that most cells in your body have short life spans. They die and are replenished regularly. Neurons are different. The neurons in your brain are the same ones you were born with. This is why I can be forty-six years old and still think I'm twenty-three or feel (or act) like an eight-year-old.

When I'm walking around doing stuff I have no idea how old I am and I don't care. That's as it should be. It doesn't matter. So it shouldn't bother me that I don't look like I think I do. Right? It doesn't really matter.

I was not careful to take good photos of my costume last night. Pete took a few though.

This is the best one of my costume but I don't like it because I look wider than I'd like to and because you can clearly see my saggy old lady neck. Gah! I would like to think that my neck doesn't look like that all the time. I can't see it so what do I know? 

But it doesn't fucking matter, does it? Why spend a moment's  energy on it? 

Moving on, that was a pretty good costume. I don't think the hair is quite right for the character but it'll do for Halloween.

This photo is more like what I was going for:

Of course that's blurry so I can believe what I want to about my neck. You can't see the leggings or the shoes though. The woman behind me in the picture had been in front of me earlier. She had the worst posture. Her head was disappearing into her shoulders. It gave me a backache to look at her.

So where was I going? Something like I need to get over any feelings of concern about my aging appearance. There's nothing I can do to change it. There are far more important (and interesting) things I could be spending my time doing. Although coming to terms with and accepting reality is a valuable pursuit. One more miracle of life to encounter and appreciate. A gift of impermanence: another challenge to tackle and subdue. 

By the way, I'm wearing a mini hat:

Sassy!

This is a new piece I'll be showing this Friday

I make an excellent hermit.  I've been hiding out from people all week (maybe longer) and it's done me a world of good.

Here's a MIRACLE: I'm happily working away in my studio.  It's been months and months since I've been able to really work there and even longer since I was happy about it.  I'd force myself to chip away at things when I could and that was the best I could do.

I know, it's sad.  You're supposed to love what you do and making art is supposed to be fun and what's so hard about making dumb junk anyway?  

Many of you know the feelings to which I refer.  To the rest of you I say: even making poor quality art can be really difficult and demoralizing.  Maybe I mean to say that the thought that you might be making poor quality art can be especially difficult and demoralizing.

Now don't get the wrong idea.  I'm not saying I make poor quality art - though I highly doubt anything I've made will be setting fire to Art Basel Miami (South by Southwest for the visual arts crowd only with A LOT more money) anytime in the next decade or so. 

It's just that most of the time when you're making art you have NO IDEA AT ALL what you're doing or if it will be worth anything when you're done (whenever that is, if ever)  When I say "worth anything" I mean the effort before I mean worth money.

Taking the long view, making the effort is worth making the effort.  It's hard to maintain the long view day to day.  But here I am at the end of my recent forced-making rainbow and I actually do have something to show for all that work I made myself do.

I guess some people have more faith in themselves and are able to be content enjoying their processes and their efforts.  Maybe if I continue to meditate I can develop a better attitude.

It probably wouldn't hurt if Life could take it a little easier on me for a little while too.  Hi Life! XOXOXO! (Blows a kiss and waves frantically)

Here's something else from my studio: what I like to call companion planting.

While Pete, Fay and I were away for Thanksgiving the studio mice made Thanksgiving with my cyclamen.  They crawled into the pot and chewed every succulent stem, every leaf, every tender little growing sprout they could reach.  There was one survivor: a large leaf that had been suspended over its cactus neighbors.

So I rounded up the cacti and surrounded the cyclamen pot with them.  Then I took some conveniently available baby cacti and put them in pot as well (as you can see)  Then I crossed my fingers and hoped that that one surviving leaf could photosynthesize enough to carry the poor cyclamen along for a while.

So far so good - we have new growth.  I'll keep my fingers crossed though.  That one little leaf peeking out over the rim makes me a little nervous.  Mice can be very resourceful when they're hungry.

Finally, here is another wig my mom gave me for my birthday.  Thanks Mom!

Please don't yell at me for saying this because it's true: the years are really becoming apparent.  I am no longer twenty-eight.  Seriously.  Even though I think I am.

I did get carded at the grocery store yesterday.  I should mark that on my calendar - it may never happen again.  I think there was something wrong with that guy.  Or maybe he was trying to butter me up.

Birthday 2011

2010 was a difficult year.  For the first half I was pretty proud of myself for being able to compartmentalize the bad and the good and still find ways to enjoy myself.  Actually, I've been patting myself on the back about that ability for the last three years.  Unfortunately that particular emotional resource ran out a little after my dad died.  Since then I've had a hard time enjoying anything.  That's normal - it happens.  As long as I take care of myself I'll get that ability back.  I'm not worried, just waiting.

I did enjoy my birthday though, in a low-key way.  To celebrate we went to Hotel Del Coronado for New Years Day brunch in the Crown Room.  Here's what I wore:

Mom gave me the bag and the shoes for Christmas.  You'd have to feel at least a little bit uplifted by that combo, huh?  You might recognize the shoes from this post.

Here I am towards the end of the meal.  Notice that I have a tiramisu, three chocolate drinks, three little piles of chocolate mousse and a meringue.  The food at the brunch is stellar but my absolute favorite thing is that chocolate drink.  Maybe next time I'll get five!

After brunch we all walked on the beach.  Usually there's a chilly wind blowing on that beach but this day it was just warm and pleasant.  They have disco sand there: it glitters with golden mica.  So fancy!

Then Pete and I took Fay in her doggie stroller to smell the smellicans (pelican roosts really stink) at the La Jolla Cove.

Fay loves to sniff all the smells.  I kept waiting for someone to look into our stroller and say "What a hideous child!" Everybody just thought she was so cute. Well, she is.

When we got back to Mom's house the sun was setting.  It was an incredible sunset.  Pete and I stayed out on the lawn for about an hour watching it.

It was even beautiful to the east.  I had trouble deciding where to look.

I chose to see a phoenix in these clouds because I could use a rebirth.

After the sunset we all had dinner together.  Mom delegated the ordering of the cakes to my brother this year.  For some reason he ordered three birthday cakes for me. There have to be photos of them somewhere but I don't have them.  There was coconut, chocolate with white icing and a fruit tiramisu.  Against the odds, the fruit tiramisu was my hands down favorite.  I wish I had some right now.

So all in all a very pleasant birthday.  Ideal.  Comfortable, delicious and spent with my favorite people.  Way to start the new year.

Not As Bad As It Sounds (A.k.a, I Surrender!)

Ugh. I have the flu. I got over my 24-hour virus and flew back from California just fine. The night we got back Pete and I even went out for dinner. The next morning I woke up feeling achy and exhausted. I've been in bed pretty much ever since. Bad news!

I thought it was just that I was tapped out from a grueling holiday season. So much travel and the grieving process. The demise of my computer was a tough blow. I also got dragged in to some drama with a neighbor about something that doesn't involve me at all which was really hard to take. Her timing was putrid.

I've been too tired to think - even to daydream. I sure as hell haven't had any desire to interact with people. I feel pretty burnt. I'm not facebooking or even tweeting. I'm kind of avoiding e-mail too, although nowadays the only e-mail I get is either from Neiman Marcus or about Viagra.

I did want to go to my friend Jill's surprise party last night but I felt too lousy and didn't want to be the Typhoid Mary of the evening. I thought I might be feeling better last night but I woke up feeling crappy again this morning.

I have a very low threshold for bad news and problems these days. I don't want to hear gossip or bad-mouthing. I don't have the patience. So I guess it's just as well that I haven't left the apartment in five days except to walk the dog.

I'd planned to get a lot of my own work done this month. It turns out that "my own work" is recovering from last year. I think I can let go of my hopes to be "productive" because I feel so crappy that I don't have a choice.

So now I'm reading about Zen and therapeutic yoga and playing "Bakery Story" and "City Story" on the iPad. Hell - I'm blogging from the iPad. I hope it works okay since the interface is a little balky.

Fay Loves Grandma

I apologize for the writing quality of this post.  It turns out I'm over-caffeinated.  I'm also out of the habit of editing myself as I go from NaNoWriMo.  I'm a-cranking' out the words.

Fay likes to travel.  She especially loves to go to California.  Grandma's house in California is a sprawling one level.  We put plenty of yoga mats down on the wood floors so Fay can make it easily across the wood floors from our room into the kitchen.  Elsewhere there is carpeting.  But the key is that she can make it to the kitchen.

I think the thing she likes best about California is that there are more people here to mooch food from here than there are under normal circumstances.  I have a feeling that I've written that before.  Oh well.  Sorry.  Ish.

Grandma is a total sucker for Fay's charms so Fay's mooching is very successful.  Fortunately Fay also gets a lot of exercise running from the bedroom to the kitchen and back.  Still, when we flew back from here back in August they almost didn't let me on the plane with Fay.  She and her carrier are supposed to weigh less than twenty pounds.  They weighed twenty-three!

Yesterday Grandma was a little careless when she was giving Fay a piece of cheese.  You have to give Fay her treats horsey style, with a flat palm.  She can be very grabby.  She's so rude.

Payback Time

My physical knocked the wind right out of my sails - and I'm really healthy! What the hell is my problem? I'm even excited that I'm up to date on my tetanus shot.

Fortunately my wonderful husband took care of me tonight. He let me take a nap then he made me a manhattan, a cheese plate, a fresh salad and reheated some left-overs for dinner (I LOVE left-overs) He also set a fire in the fireplace.

He's so dreamy!

Fay Really Is A Senior Citizen

Did you ever see that Simpsons episode where Bart goes to the doctor and is given greasy salve for his scalp, eyeglasses, orthopedic shoes and a throat spray? (It's episode 509 from season 5 where Homer loves Mindy) That's the kind of day Fay had yesterday.

I took her in to the vet because she had a goopy eye. She came out about an hour and a half later with three new eye medications, ear drops and antiseptic wipes. She's also just started to take three cranberry extract capsules a day and I'm supposed to get her a mouth rinse. This is in addition to the four other medications she's already on.

Some meds she gets three times a day, some twice, some once and one she gets every other day. This boils down to her needing attention every four hours except when she needs attention in two hours. It only took me one list, two rough drafts, a fistful of magic markers and a half an hour to figure out when to give what. The final working draft is pictured above. I may even make another once I've ironed out the best order in which to give everything.

You might think that she's a complete basket case but you'd be mistaken. She's using her legs better than ever (well, since her disease manifested). She can stand up and walk around for several minutes at a time. She's every bit as bossy, demanding, endearing and hungry as she's always been. She's pretty much fine, minus a bit of wear and tear.

Too Much Stuff

This move has consumed my life. We're still organizing, tossing, donating, packing and driving.

I hope I've learned something important though: I want to be sure to appreciate the nice things I have rather than just concentrating on achieving the next goal. I've taken so much in my life for granted while I focused on the things I wanted to bring in to my life, let a lot of potentially rewarding things slide. I'm hoping to turn over a new leaf about that.

We close on the house in about ten days. It will be empty and clean. The room in the barn where I work out and have my sewing machine set up will be stuffed with boxes and unusable for anything besides storage. Boxes tower in the rooms of the Vermont house.

That will have to wait though because I'll be heading for California the minute this move is settled. My dad's mouth cancer is back.

I know - he just got out of the hospital.

Dad was treated for mouth cancer back in the late nineties. He was cancer free for over ten years. Unfortunately the original treatment damaged his mouth and that damage will complicate his recovery from this next round of treatment.

I want to make it out there in time to spend some time with him and my mom before he has to recover from anything else. No doubt I'll be there during and after too.

Stupid cancer.

But that's a worry for next week. This week it's hauling another couple of carloads to Vermont then back to Brookline to fill up a dumpster then maybe rent another truck to move out the very last stuff.

The light's at the end of the tunnel that leads to the next tunnel.

Grey Is A Color

Not much blogging going on these days, at least not on the blogs I follow.  Me neither.  I don't know about anybody else but I've got too much going on in my head to stop and write anything down.  I'm going to write something now though in case others, like me, want some content damn-it!

I grew out my dye job.  I do that every few years because I want to know what my hair is really doing.  I'll have to get Pete to take a picture so you can see it.  I kind of like it and I think I'll leave it a while.  Over the last few weeks I've been catching myself in the mirror and feeling kind of satisfied.  My hair is short with a little grey streak in the front and a little more grey peppered through the sides and back.  The rest of it is chestnutty auburn, I guess.

In my travels I've been seeing friends of mine with similar hair - short and uncolored (they're all guys) - and feeling like I'm in good company.  Finally the other day I realized the real reason I like what my hair looks like now:  I look kind of like Jon Stewart.  I don't have time right now to make a hilarious yet disturbing composite photo.  Maybe later.

The grey doesn't bother me.  I'm so glad to be as old as I am.  The things I have learned over the years are so worth the grey hair and saggy skin.  For example, back in '89 I worked for an animation company.  It was a fun job but stressful.  I liked every single one of my co-workers but some of them could be really moody.  I was 23 years old and I didn't realize that their moodiness had nothing to do with me.  I thought that some days they liked me and some days they didn't.  Probably accurate but that was their fault and not mine.  Sure, some 23 year olds already know better than that but I didn't.  Thank God I do now.

Chances are good that I will dye again.  Spring usually has me feeling dismal so I may need to perk myself up with some color.  We'll see.

Now I'm going to unhitch Fay from her wheelchair and head over to my studio to make a painting based on a Japanese sticker of a cute sandwich with a face.

Okay, it's later:

A Little Random

Photo number one:

This was apparently sent by me to me from "Men's Health," some weird little daily digest newslettery thing, subject line: RE:ja.Doctor Phyllis. Fishy much? If I hold my cursor over one of the many links in this digest, like how to follow Daniel Craig's workout (and NO I AM NOT CLICKING THE LINK!!!!) a little window pops up and shows where the link goes. Each one goes somewhere different, like "http://www. dcmshjn.cn/." Oh great, I just got another one from myself. XOXOXO Love it. And I can't label it as spam since it appears that I sent it to myself.

The copy claims that "James Bond always gets the women. And while part of that is his charm and swagger, the way his muscles fill out a tux is what the ladies first notice about him." I don't know. Maybe it's unwomanly of me but that kind of muscle doesn't really do it for me. They look a bit overinflated. Not my thing. I won't deny that Daniel Craig is easy on the eyes but it's not because of the muscles.

Almost entirely unrelated:

I like mummies and bog people! No, not for ogling or dating etc. Gross. They're just fascinating. This is the mummy known as the Loulan Beauty who is on display at a museum in Urumqi, China (photo by Giles Sabrie) Mummies and bog people look just like us except for their mysterious accoutrements the meanings of which we can only guess. So cool! So many things to think about! What were their lives like? How did they die? What's the significance of that tattoo? Why does her hat look like that?

It's as if I have all the time in the world to think about random junk like this and then tell you about it.

Something I Don't Get

I'm not sure why but the return of this perfectly reasonable 1980's boot is giving me the heebie jeebies. They're very practical, they're comfortable, I loved them back in 1980-whatever. You can even get many styles in purple which was my dearest wish twenty years ago. Now they just give me the creeps.

Maybe it's insuppressible memories of the annoying girls with giant hair who also wore those boots? Not that there's anything wrong with giant hair. I don't know. Maybe I'll figure it out sometime down the line. I don't think I'll be succumbing to the charms of a pair of them any time soon though. I already did that.

I Too Am A Clam

I'm beginning to realize that I'm not using this blog to my best advantage. There's a lot of coming out I could do here but it doesn't occur to me. I'm not really in the habit of letting what's going on in my head out into the world.

No wonder I was so upset about that 400 year old clam - it was a relative!

Instead of sending poor Liz an e-mail book about my wild dreams for a video game I could let them out here.

Not now though. It's lunch time. I'm going to get some Vietnamese food! Mmmm!

P.S.: So far so good with the making fear my new best friend thing.

Notice I'm still being a clam.

Old Spice and Other Things

I was thinking of posting about more old flesh in the news. They've taken the mask off of Tutankhamen's mummy so those who visit his tomb can see his face. If you go to this site you can page down and see some photos. He has a pretty good amount of face left for a body that old. I imagine that the 400 year old clam's complexion was fresher looking however, since it was still alive.

I wonder what they did with that clam? Chowder? Pasta? Certainly dissection. Wow, people really stink sometimes.

What I'm really excited about today is that the hour has come to start taking out the trash. Finally I can get rid of the recyclables and the fifteen-year old dried parsley leaves (okay, that's really an herb. But I also threw out a bottle of Accent. Can you consider MSG a spice? If not I'm sure there are some spices in the bag too) and the tea that I bought in 1990 that I just cleaned out of the pantry. The dozen bottles of hot sauce (spicy!) that our former house-mates left behind when they moved into their respective bachelor pads earlier this year. The six bottles of barbecue sauce and the instant rice and/or potato side dishes that appeared in the kitchen somehow that I will never use, make or eat.

Fay will have more room to maneuver her wheelchair now. This is very exciting.