Spring Travel

Tomorrow I will be on the road again. Being on the road I don't mind so much, the stuff I'm having a hard time with does not involve the landscapes I'll see and the miles I'll drive.

What I'm torn over is: the daffodils are blooming. They're these tiny, miniature daffodils I planted in the the yard a few years ago. We always had these big blooming yellow bursts at our old house, and I wanted some here, and all I could find was a little desk plant size that I transplanted to the yard. And they pop their tiny, delicate yellow blooming heads up each year now.

This is only a base feeling for the deeper butterflies. Sure, March in West Texas is brutally windy and it is thoroughly unpleasant to go outside and eat dirt in the air. So escaping that is a plus.

But being away long enough for the weeds to take over the yard irks me. Being so far away from my tools and supplies has me crawling with hives. Packing enough clothes, let alone shoes for several weeks just has me in a tither.

I'm so torn up, I haven't eaten right in days. All my brushes and tools and choices are set up and laid out so that when inspiration strikes, I just grab and get to work. The weather is finally starting to get nice, nice enough that I don't want to stay buried under five blankets for warmth all day. Nice enough that I want to spend my afternoon outside, writing or gardening or watching the birds flit about.

This is so very weird for me. I love to travel, especially in the Spring. For years I felt that I needed to be in San Antonio in the Springtime, watching the preparations for Fiesta, absorbing all the colors and excitement. Wandering the Hill Country to see all the miles of reds, blues, yellows - wildflowers and bluebonnets in bloom.

That's home to me. That's what I crave and enjoy.

Please, oh, please, let me find some creative joy out of this excursion.

"Where Are You Going"

I'm trying my damnedest to stay upbeat because everyone else is telling me what a beautiful place I'm in. If you saw the mouse, or mice, scurrying around the floor like I am right now, you might see things a bit differently and lay off the "It's paradise! Enjoy it!" sentiments.

The timing has been difficult at best. With the stress of last week and everything. With trying to figure out the time zone differences so I'm not waking someone up when I call. With trying to make my commitments to my contracts for conference calls and proposals and writing guidelines and updates in between school and dentist and other kid related things.

For all those who thought I was just joking when I said I don't want kids... well, this trip is just confirmation of those thoughts for me.

Maybe I really am this selfish. Maybe I really do enjoy the peace and the traveling and spending time with my partner, even if right now it's just phone conversations. Maybe I really do want to fly down the highway on a motorcycle. Maybe I do want to make an entire meal out of brie and tilapia and wine. Maybe I want to stay in bed all day savoring my partner's body or a really good book. Maybe I want to travel where the wind blows and see what happens as opposed to having a schedule.

I'm supposedly on vacation. I'm not real sure according to who. I still have things to get done everyday and jobs to apply for in between being a nanny of sorts.

When I travel I like to roam. To wander. To disappear on my own. I really enjoy this. I have for years. To meander through a new town or small antique store or funky boutique. To sit and enjoy a really good meal with wine in some small local cafe or to listen to a local band jam in some little bar. To sit on a park bench and people watch or read or write.

So far... um, nope.

I hope that I really can explore a bit soon. I hope to take advantage of the time I'm here to go see things I've always wanted to see - like Pearl Harbor. I'm sure the Polynesian Center is awesome, but the cost far outweighs my interest at this time. I'll add it to the 'someday, when I can come back with someone I want to spend travel time with, or when I don't have to worry about money anymore' file.

I have taken several pictures of the clouds over the mountains and the flowers, though. I've gotten to swim in the Pacific now (not in a relaxing sunbathing kind of swim, this was a 'keep the girls from drowning each other' exhausting couple of hours), to check that off the list.

I'm trying to find time to just read, but it's hard because I tend to start crying when I find that few minutes and realize the situation I'm in and who I'm missing.

Yes, it's far from ideal right now. Yes, I'm attempting to try. I have moments where it's really nice, but the reality is a far harsher fall.

When I can finally take the time to draw or do something remotely resembling art again, I will. Unfortunately, even with the bit of soul searching I'm trying to do right now, it's going to take me awhile to get my head screwed back on straight. I'm in emotional and mental upheaval and I have to keep it all inside for now.

17th of December, Part 4

...Part 1, Part 2, Part 3...

This series has been harder than I thought.

The writing has been therapeutic, yes. It's only further proof that some things never completely heal, and some things will continue to surface long after their time has past.

This night was a turning point for me and I'm reminded of it every time I look in the mirror. The difference now is that while these physical scars have healed, there are days when I wonder about the person I've become since then.

I changed how I travel. I still prefer to drive and I love to travel, but now I give myself plenty of time to get anywhere and stop for naps if I feel I need it. I got my motorcycle license last year and love riding. There is a freedom and balance to being on a bike that feels like flying.

I quit wearing a watch. Time didn't matter. Time doesn't matter.* Yes, I have a lead foot and like speed, but I don't care if I get anywhere on time. I'll get there when I get there.

Family matters. A lot. My cousin was killed instantly in a car wreck just a few years before. This scared my family, dealing this and me. It scared me, the thought of losing all this support and love.

I survived something I shouldn't have. Those pictures my parents took of the truck? I saw one, once. I've never seen them again. That one photo showed a small green pickup truck that looked like it had been picked up and twisted in different directions by the Jolly Green Giant. It's hard to explain other than I saw that photo and cried. How in the world did I survive that? I don't know.

But it let me know I'm still here on this earth for some reason. And I've spent the last eleven years trying to find my way on my path.

Just over a year later I moved to San Antonio. I had a wonderful experience with theatre there and formed a long lasting relationship. I traveled all over the state for auditions and commercial things. I later moved to Ft. Davis and met my best friend.

Then came Massage Therapy classes where I learned so much and loved it all. Yes, the human body is freaking amazing and yet so very fragile.

And I've dabbled in everything that catches my interest since then. Why not? Life is short enough, right? So I might as well try things out and see if I like them. I like to think I've continued to jump in there to take those chances, but sometimes I know I haven't.

Fear will stop things before they have a chance to begin. If the worst that could happen is something I've lived through, then I tell myself to go try it out.

I meet fascinating people and have great conversations this way. I once asked a parking lot painter if I could paint a stripe but he said he'd rather not see me mess up my skirt as we were on our way to the bar. Seriously. Ask Amber.

I took the leap for nude modeling and loved it. I leaned in to kiss a guy during a cold audition and landed the role. I flew out to Charleston to meet someone I'd only talked to for six weeks and that turned into a relationship. I submitted my writing for several projects and landed a few of them, some of which continue now as I develop more skills. I took the motorcycle classes because I really, really, really wanted to learn to ride and wasn't dating anyone with a bike anymore. I took a chance on a personal ad, drove to El Paso a week later to meet the man I will eventually marry.

I've played it safe plenty of times, too. Having a steady paycheck is nice, it's the draw of a desk job.

But the part of me that knows something is off, knows. And I've taken a few steps toward the next leg of this path I'm on, figuring out what still fits and what doesn't.

All in all, I'm an artist. I love creating. I love whimsy. I love helping make people feel better whether by massage or by finding answers. I love the human art form and expression. And I love passion.

The scars are still here. Reminders of what happened. Reminders of where I've been. It's always moving forward from some point. It's a long, winding path with many detours. My life is a journey. When I pay attention and see the signs, I stay on the road, when I don't, things get all topsy-turvy.

Thank you for letting me express a bit of myself here. I hope you come back on occasion to see where I'm at next.


*"Only life matters." - Guess what movie that's from?

17th of December, Part 3

...Part 1, Part 2...

The Hospital

Backboards suck. I was coherent, in pain, scared, could barely see, cold, strapped down, and nobody had called my parents yet. So I was also pissed.

When I'm in pain my very obnoxious, very dark, very annoying, and very twisted sense of humor shines through. This is true when I stub my toe as much as when I hit my funny bone. So multiply all the tense whiplashed muscles, lots of blood, and pieces of my body that were not in their rightful place, and I was quite venomous with the bad jokes.

I wanted off that backboard. I knew my back was fine. I could sense it in my body. When I tried to tell the poor nurses or doctors who were working on or around me, they did. not. get. it. "My back hurts, please let me off here!" "If your back hurts, it may be broken, please lie still." "NO! It hurts because I'm strapped to this godforsaken FLAT piece of wood and my spine is not FLAT! It curves! How do you not know this? Didn't you take anatomy?"

See? I was annoying. Even better:

"Hello? I'm cold. Please, a blanket or something?" "Here, here's a warm towel, is that better?" Well, it was ok, for a few minutes until the warmth was gone and it was a cold towel barely covering my knees. "Hey, I'm cold again." "Here, here's another warm towel. Is this better?" "No. I tell you what, you take those towels out of that warmer and just put me in there, ok?"

No one laughed but me. I tell you, I have a warped sense of humor.

The rest I remember parts of. Fuzzy parts here and there. I know they took X-rays sometime. I know my parents were finally called, somewhere around midnight or one am. My parents were working two jobs each at the time, both too exhausted to make the drive right then, so they came down the next morning.

Doctor, Doctor

The X-rays came back and a doctor started to tell me what was wrong with me according to that see through piece of paper. "It looks like both your ankles were broken, and..." I cut him off. "What? No, they're not! My ankles are fine!" And I proceeded to roll them both this way and that, up and down, as far as I could while being strapped down. He said, 'Well, I guess that must just be scar tissue then." "Yeah, I jumped off of a lot of fences when I was a kid. Also took dance." I was not so confident in this doctor at this point.

I asked if my shoulder was dislocated because it hurt so bad. "No, it's probably just whiplash from being pulled on by your seat belt." "But it's my right shoulder." "Yes, it was probably from your body straining against the shoulder strap of your seat belt." "But IT'S MY RIGHT SHOULDER." "Yes, it's probably from your seat belt. When it held you in place, your body strained against it, it'll be fine."

I gave up. Yes, my right shoulder has a slight permanent shift to it, a slight dislocation that even massage can only quell so much. And it was not from the seat belt that was going across my left shoulder.

My hand was smashed. My left hand. It was bloody and hurt pretty bad and sorta numb, too. They couldn't tell what was broken and since they were just an Emergency Room, they just wrapped it up in a whole lotta gauze.

My left eyelid was cut going back toward my temple. My right ear had been sliced nearly off. I had dried blood and broken glass all over me.

Another doctor came in, apparently a plastic surgeon on night call. He was there to stitch me up. To sew my ear back on. To sew my eyelid back together.

When you're at a broken & beaten point, strapped to a effing backboard, dried blood in your eyes, one eye swollen closed, and someone is leaning over you with a needle, what do you do?

I chose to scream.

It's not like I didn't warn him. I told him I know what he's doing, I know he has to do this, and I know it's not really like my eyeball, just my eyelid, but I'm going to scream anyway. And I do. And I have a damn good scream. He says knock her out.

Finally.

According to the bill I got for those stitches though, I must have screamed good. He charged a thousand bucks a stitch.

I was still on that gurney or whatever the next morning when I came to. A family friend who lived in San Angelo came by to check on me, my parents had called him, he was like my other dad. My parents came in. They moved me to a hospital room. They explained their version to my parents.

Sometime in there they gave me lemonade with Barium in it (I still have a tough time choking down a glass of lemonade because of this), and sent me for another test, I guess to see if I was bleeding internally. The thing is, I'd been strapped to that board for however many hours overnight, I'd probably had a large bottle of water or two as I usually do on long trips and had not stopped for a bathroom break yet. I was planning on stopping in San Angelo, another 10 minutes down the road... but I never got there. And now a plastic cup of lemonade? My bladder was full. I told them this before we left the room.

They put me on that machine for an MRI or CAT or whatever anyway and I told them I needed to pee. So they brought me a bed pan.

Have you ever tried to pee into a bed pan? I'm not male, I can't aim like that. I was in too much pain to be too embarrassed, and I'm not proud of it at all, but I peed all over myself and that pan and whatever gurney or machine I was on.

This is another reason why they should listen to the patient.

Anyway. No internal bleeding. They kept me in the hospital for the next four days because my "blood was too low." I told them to "quit coming in to take it every other hour" and it would be fine.

My iron count was too low - I was anemic. Didn't matter to them that I'd pretty much always been and that I'd just finished my period a few days before. They pumped me full of these very toxic iron pills until my levels were to their liking before they could release me.

I slept a lot. I couldn't see anything because they'd taken my contacts out and I didn't have my glasses. Not that that mattered, I couldn't wear them anyway, the stitches on my ear and a broken nose. Oh, yes - a broken nose. From the damned airbag. I hate those things. Seat belt saved my life, an airbag broke my nose.

Anyway, yes. My body was beaten and bruised, so I slept, a lot. My parents stayed with me, I think sleeping in the chairs. I asked for peanut butter and bananas, a comfort food. The cafeteria or nurses station only had peanut butter crackers. My dad offered to scrape the peanut butter off the crackers for me. Turned out the peanut butter crackers they had were separate, so he didn't have to.

Somewhere in those days my parents went to get whatever was left of my personal stuff from the wreck. They went out to the site. My mom told me they could tell where it was from the smashed bottle of nail polish across the ground. Also the broken glass and bits of truck. They took pictures. Of the site. Of the truck. Or what was left of it.

Sunday came, they said I could go home as soon as the doctor released me. The doctor was apparently busy watching the Cowboys football game that day. I was antsy. I was feeling better enough and I wanted out of there. I'd had enough rest and wanted to go home. My body was ready.

He finally came, signed the forms, we loaded up to go. They gave my mom the iron pills I was 'supposed' to take. My body smelled like rust from that stuff. I didn't take them.

We went home. My mom took me to a couple of doctors over the next week to check the stitches and my left hand. They unwrapped it for the first time since it had been wrapped on Wednesday night of the wreck. Several days of dried blood, major bruising, and broken glass. It smelled bad and hurt worse. It was three sizes too big, purple, green, yellow, blue, and disgusting. I joked that someone had removed my hand and replaced it with a prop from a bad 'B' horror movie.

One bone broken though. In all that mess, just one broken bone. A tiny one, a metacarpal. But the rest was swollen and bruised badly. I'd had my hand on the steering wheel as I rolled, smashing it. So I got a soft cast and six weeks of showering with a plastic bag over my hand.

I slept a lot more. I couldn't drive for awhile. I relied on my family for so much.

Things changed for me that night.

Tomorrow I'll expound further.

17th of December, Part 2

Part 1 here...

Rollover on the Highway

I had a truck. A little Ford Ranger. Green. It had a crack in the windshield from a rock chip from the resealing of city streets the past summer.

I was tired. I'd been awake since sometime around 4am. I'd taken some form of over the counter sinus stuff the day before for allergies. (Did that play a role, hardly, but I've since gone homeopathic & don't touch the over-the-counter stuff at all.) I'd driven the six hours out to Austin, done the audition, and driven more than halfway back home. I wanted to be home.

But I was tired. And I couldn't tell that the street lights up ahead were for a different road that went one way while the road I was on curved the other.

And I swerved. And I panicked. And I over-corrected. And I tensed up every muscle in my body. And I said "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..." And I remember the track the CD was playing. I remember the song. I remember where in the song. I remember the lyrics at that point in the song. I remember being very, very unhappy at what was happening.

They tell me I rolled several times. My parents told me they unwrapped my dog tags from around my rear-view mirror three times. I went across the median. Into oncoming traffic. Rolling. Rolling across the median. The truck stopped on the passenger side on the other road. Where another car hit my truck and sent me spinning in it.

I was the scene people slow down for. To see what happened. But I couldn't see what they saw.

My view was a very different perspective.

My left eye was bloody and swollen shut. My right eye didn't want to open until the blood covering it dried. My right shoulder hurt. My left hand was excruciating. My feet were cold. And I was in the cab of that small truck looking at a swath of dark red blood across the ceiling above me.

The back window had popped out somewhere on that roller coaster. The front window was smashed. As were the driver and passenger windows. I had enough of my wits about me to turn off the engine. I released my seat belt which let me drop the last few inches so my feet were on the ground through the passenger side window. Good thing I'd waited till the truck wasn't moving anymore, because had my feet drooped through that window before the spinning, they would have been cut off at the ankle. I leaned back on the seat with seatbelt locks digging into my side as voices shouted and hollered outside.

They asked me where I was going. "Home. To Odessa." They asked me where I was coming from. "From Austin." That can't be, they said. I was on the wrong road, they said. I must have it backwards, they said. I must have been going to Austin from Odessa. "NO!" I said. I was hurt, not stupid. I hadn't lost my brain capacity. I was angry.

I offered to try and climb out. They told me to stay put. To wait for the police and ambulance. I told them, someone, anyone, to find my purse. Please. It had a cell phone in it, please find it and call my parents. Just let them know. I know now that no one did.

More questions. Asking what happened, what hurt. Eventually I was told they brought in the Jaws of Life. I figured it must be pretty bad to get that. They put a sheet over my head to protect me from the shards of glass and metal it would be cutting away. Someone placed the neck brace thing on my neck even though I told them my neck was fine. They slid in a back board and strapped me to it. They rolled me to the waiting helicopter and flew me into town to the hospital.

My first helicopter ride involved me being strapped to a backboard, not able to see anything, and was really cold because one door was still open and it felt like my feet were hanging out.

The wreck happened around 10pm. I was on the road into San Angelo, right around a tiny little area called Wall. They've since put up those big yellow arrow signs on that curve, because I apparently was not the only one to not realize the road curved. The sheriff or police officer, I don't even know which, told me I would be given several tickets. Failure to control vehicle. Failure to yield right-of-way or going into oncoming traffic or some such. And something else. I honestly don't remember what else.

It didn't matter to me. I was in pain. And the wreck was just the beginning...

...to be continued...

17th of December, Part 1

I am afraid. Yet the date comes and goes and I drive the same road several times a year. I persevere.

Some part of you is going to read this, sickly fascinated by what happened, because it's something that draws everyone. It's what makes us slow down to see what happened and be thankful it wasn't us.

And some part of you may have no desire whatsoever to hear read about a twisted, mangled pain that may have healed to the best of healing ability in the physical manner - but still aches as a reminder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December 17, 1997.

A Wednesday. Cold enough for Winter in Texas, but not as bad as the sudden 10 inches of snow we would get a year later.

I wanted to be an actress. I'd wanted to be one for years. I did the community theatre, the high school shows, the after school children's productions. I did the modeling and training, the late night rehearsals of Shakespeare and musicals. I wanted Broadway, but being practical about my chances as an actress as I was about college, I didn't go.

A friend wanted New York, too. We decided on Austin as a stepping stone to get to NY eventually. Austin from Odessa was a huge step. We decided to move in the Spring, after the holidays with our families.

I like a plan. Whether I stick to it or not, I like having some sort of framework to go with.

We had a plan now. So when I saw an audition ad for "Angels in America" by Tony Kushner at an Austin theatre, meant to be performed a few months later, I decided this was a shot! A chance to audition for a show and move to a big city and see what I could prove!

So I figured it out. My day job at the time was as a graphic operator or sound tech for the local morning news show. Sometimes commercial stuff like helping to dub or make the phone number go across the screen. This Wednesday I would get off work around 11am. I left and headed out toward Austin, taking Brady and Llano across - a road I'd driven a few times before. I remember stopping to pickup a few things as Christmas gifts for my family. A couple of puzzles for my younger brothers, coloring books for cousins. I'm not sure anymore really.

I remember I had time to grab a sandwich and find the theatre. I remember sitting in the hallway going over the lines before the audition. I remember I wore my best blue t-shirt and a blue denim jacket with my best blue jeans. I guess I probably had tennis shoes on... oh, that's right, I did. White Keds. I remember thinking I did pretty good, but I was nervous, so I knew it wasn't a 'knocked their socks off great' audition. But I wanted that role. I wanted this show to be a sign I should move to Austin.

The drive home

Yes, it was dark, but I didn't think it's be a problem. I'd borrowed my dad's cell phone (because at the time only busy business-type people had one, really), so I was going to call my parents when I got to San Angelo just to let them know I was about two hours out. I also didn't want to use the roaming minutes and San Angelo was close enough it wouldn't.

Good. A plan.

It didn't happen like that. My parents got a call several hours later from either the hospital or the officer, I don't know, to let them know their daughter was in a car accident.

...to be continued...

Since I wrote it anyway: Gallery Night 2008

Because of glitches & groans computerwise, the November issue of Good Times of West Texas Magazine did not make it to print. (insert frowny face here) But since Gallery Night is coming up next weekend - here's the article I wrote about it anyway!

Art Walk-ing 2008 in Alpine Texas

The crisp late fall air whispers down Holland Avenue welcoming artists of every shade to Alpine’s 15th Annual Art Walk this November. Expression is in high demand over the two-day experience also known as Gallery Night.

Stores will be open until 10:00 pm Friday November 21st and Saturday November 22nd along with the many galleries that line this main thoroughfare, encouraging folks to step inside to enjoy the warmth and take in all they have to offer. Find Christmas ornaments to decorate your tree or serene designs painted onto plates for serving dinner. Admire and purchase a subdued black and white print of the familiar and evocative West Texas thunderstorm rolling across the mesquite covered mountains. Brightly decorated tabletops will catch your eye with sparkling handmade jewelry displayed next to a rack of cozy scarves or carved walking sticks.

With over twenty official locations for music, live exhibits, videos, food, and art means there will be plenty to satiate all your senses. Pick up a copy of the Alpine Avalanche newspaper on Thursday the 20th for a complete guide to all locales, where the artists will be hobnobbing, and a map to help you find your way from the fajitas to the stage.

This year the festivities welcome Honored Artist Tom Curry who designed this year’s Gallery Night painting and will be showing his works in The Alpine Studio on Murphy Street. Tom and his wife Susan moved to Alpine in 1993 and he’s since developed a varied art career. Along with the bigger, newer paintings Tom calls “Texas Chic with regional flair” will be prints, cards and reworked oils. His portfolio also includes magazine editorials and illustrations for seven children’s books, so don’t be surprised at anything you may see on the gallery walls!

When your tummy starts growling just follow your nose to find the grilling and food stands in the Hecho y Mano open-air art and food market in Arbolitos Park near the Union Pacific train depot. Here you’ll find fajitas, gorditas, burgers, hot chocolate, and many other locally made culinary indulgences. Taking a cue from the diversity of the evening, no two food stands will be offering the same fare, to encourage a wide variety of savory options.

Thank Mark Pollack of Trans-Pecos Guitars for his role as Musical Director in lining up such a distinct and entertaining list of musicians for the performance stage in the Kiowa Plaza parking lot. Beginning at 6:00 pm on Friday this is the place to catch The Doodling Hog Wallops and Matt Skinner, Terra Peters, Crain Coffee and Grupo de la Paz as nightfall sets in. Saturday evening the parking lot will again become a dance floor as Matt Skinner, Terra Peters and The Derailers take to the open-air stage under starry skies.

Kiowa Gallery owner Keri Arzt is quite proud of how Gallery Night has grown, commenting that “it has taken on a life of it’s own. Over the 15 years we’ve watched it grow, and the people come together and the energy is great!” An economic boost for the area because of all the people who come in to ‘find’ new art, the Gallery Night has also developed into a non-profit organization that gives back. There are scholarships to Sul Ross State University and money goes to schools in the tri-county area for art programs.

This is really a great weekend for the entire area to come together in so many ways. Curry admits, “I look forward to seeing friends I haven’t seen in awhile. Everyone comes out, a great time to see everyone at once and catch up, see what’s new.”

Yes, Gallery Night weekend is a wonderful time to see what’s new!

For more information please contact Keri Arzt at Kiowa Gallery at 432.837.3067 or visit www.alpinegallerynight.com for the studios, restaurants, offices and stores participating in this year’s event.

If you find yourself aiming that direction, say hi!

and this here is a pretty lil' piece o' land, just right for the pickin'

For this one night I have no pressing deadline. I do have bills, but I can't pay those till I get paid later this week so they don't matter tonight. I could do laundry or cleaning or any of the other tens of things on my mental list of "things I think I oughtta be doing", but you know what? I'm not.

Tonight I've attempted to watch Grey's, but that's not happening for various reasons. So instead I had it on Ace of Cakes, I cut out words & pictures in old magazines, I put away some clothes that have been sitting here since sometime a week ago when I laid them out to air dry. I am choosing to continue to ignore the hundreds of emails in my inbox because I still can't bring myself to care what might be in there. I'm using a can of Pringles and a jar of sand as my foot rests. (shrugs) It works.

I'm actually proud of myself for having enough money in my bank account to buy a new battery for my car (proud too that it lasted from October of 2001 till now) but the only reason I had enough in there was I was saving it to pay for my car registration renewal this week anyway. C'est la vie.

I'm back from Jacksonville and missing being in Rob's arms. A long weekend of holding hands and kissing and snuggling and now back in separate worlds. And it sucks worse than screaming children scratching their nails on chalkboard during a fire drill. Or something equivalent to being numb & depressed & angry & annoyed & tired all at the same time.

We drove to Tallahassee for his aunt Susan's service. I met more family there. She was a passionate & spirited lady who was a delight to get to visit with when we went through several times. Cancer took her body, but it didn't take her spirit. I love how supportive and caring and creative and supportive his family is. My own family has it's own way of being supportive, but theirs is a lot calmer and loving through all the generations. Mine, well, sometimes I feel as if I don't live up to what everyone expects of me, and that can be tiring in itself.

We took complete advantage of sleeping late, curling into each other and reading "Peter and the Starcatchers" to each other all weekend. Dinner with friends one night, dinner with his parents another, dinner watching the sunset on the Intercoastal another. Being able to say exactly what was on my mind, usually to hear him say the exact same thing. We connected and it felt so good. The hard part was getting on the plane to fly back, alone. Damnit.

Yes, the papers on my desk at work have been multiplying like over-caffeinated rabbits and has me a bit stressed in the hours I have to be at work and doing job-related things like answering calls and writing newsletters. Then there is the explosion that is the remnants of me moving furniture and art supplies around my room, as well as the leftovers of Airsho which I pretty much just dropped wherever there was an empty square inch. Soo, umm, yeah. There is plenty for me to do to keep busy for the next two months when I can see him again.

This whole financial 'crisis' that seems to be a scary big-deal for the rest of the country does not seem to affect us here in the oil fields of West Texas. We are a remote bubble in so many ways. I work for a non-profit with no benefits, so whatever was left of my 401k I cashed out in January, well, I have no idea if there is anything left at all now, and I wonder if I shouldn't have just cashed in the whole thing and done a few things my way at the time. That's what I get for not listening to myself.

Things will change here eventually, they always do. I keep up best I can at work, I try to keep up the article writing, too. And yet, I still have the itch to be working on something I want to be working on, to be making something, to be doing something for myself.

It's not easy. At all. But some nights the hardest part is when I actually prefer to cry myself to sleep rather than open a tube of paint or glue. And that's not right. Because I do actually remember a part of myself that would rather paint or carve or sand things till the wee hours of the morning rather than sleep. Something got switched and I don't know when.

There are things in this world that still give me hope. I look forward to finding them again. In the meantime I'll stumble along and ask for whatever guidance the universe is willing to send my way.

I have these thoughts, you see... I know they can be something, but I'm not sure what just yet.

Hi!

I'm back from the travels of the past few weeks - haven't had time to download the over 400 photos yet, though. I'm hoping to do that this weekend. In between I've got several pieces to write - so all my words will be going there for a few days, 'k?

two weeks later than before

I'm going to try to catch up a bit here, it's been a bit crazy for me these past two weeks, and I realize that if I don't at least attempt to catch up now, it'll probably never happen.

Let's see, after many goodbye kisses and leaving a handful of notes for Rob in the apartment, I left Jacksonville at 9am on Wed, March 26th.


I made decent time across Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana into Texas - down to Galveston to stay with my parents on the beach - altogether a 15 hour drive, about 848 miles. I was tired, but it was sooo nice to see my parents after nearly three months.

I went to lunch with Momma on Thursday, we wandered the square for a little bit, getting ideas and looking at all the pretties. Then I went to a job interview for a marketing position with a rally - I was impressed, I liked the position and was very inspired by even having an interview! He offered me the position, if we could move to Galveston, and let me tell you, after nearly five months of job hunting, that felt nice!


Since Daddy was in town for the TAM meetings, I tagged along to the museum tours that night with them. Texas Seaport Museum - where they handed us bags of popcorn and cups of Shiner! That alone made it nice to be back in Texas! -



Then to the Ocean Star Offshore Drilling Museum - seeing the difference in drilling out there in the gulf compared to the drilling out here in the dirt.

Last stop was the Lone Star Flight Museum, after the bus driver took us over the bridge into Houston and back again, you know, the scenic route... A band played, a good number of planes in the hangar, a chocolate fountain with marshmallows (see what sticks in my mind, huh!)

Back to the hotel, sleep and back on the road Friday morning - heading up through San Antonio traffic into Fredericksburg to interview for a couple of massage therapy interviews - both went well, both would be great jobs too - and finally on to stay with Amber & Bobbi in Menard for a couple of nights.

Now, for me, this is a perfect escape. Usually.

I don't have any cell phone signal down there, none at all, which is usually nice and perfect for hanging out and chilling with Amber & Bobbi, and playing with the boys. But I'm quite fond of Rob, and missing him lots, and am putting my texting and phone minutes to good use with him, so limited communication for a couple of days is kinda tough.

So we girls hung out, catching up on everything, and we spent Saturday in Brady shopping.


We wandered a little antiques store where I found a heart-shaped cookie cutter, where we giggled at the animal print purses and the camouflage print bedsheets, where we ogled all the pretty shiny things that caught our eyes.


Then to the store to find things to throw on the grill for dinner that night, things like corn on the cob, mushrooms, bell peppers, sausage, steak, chicken, - oh, almost everything except the roadkill possum, thank goodness! ;) We decided to cut the corn into half-inch slices, but as Bobbi and four different knives can attest, it's not easy! But it's very good when grilled!



Amber made grapefruit margaritas, consumed while making dinner, while watching Austyn playing outside, while giggling and telling stories.





Dinner was wonderful, we chatted into the night, ummm, nearly 3am, right? We discussed life and work, past loves and past regrets, hopes and dreams, wedding dresses and hairstyles, all sorts of things that I'm glad Rob wasn't there for! The hanging out with my two best friends was the best part.

Headed out on Sunday, back to Odessa, back to cell phone coverage.

Let's see - since then I've had several interviews, and have several more lined up in the next week, here in Odessa. We're trying to find Rob work out here, to encourage his moving out here. I'm hoping, but am well aware of his commitment to the Army Guard in Florida, and am dealing. But for this Texas girl, it's nice to be home. I'm feeling better, but still taking medicine in hopes of getting over this mess soon. I've finished my taxes (finally!) and am now focusing on finding a job that will work best for me while here.

Gina and I are going to be looking at Papaw's old building on Andrews Hwy later this week, if by some miracle things work out financially, Lawrence can use the office for his business and we can use the rest for an art gallery and art workspace. At least having the space here to work I can pick up where I left off on the carvings and paintings, especially since there's not a whole lot on tv worth watching!

Allrighty, it's late, and I'm tired. Next post I'll try to have some art stuff up.

stopping in to say hi

I've been a bit on the sick side this last week, making me very lazy in the updating. But here's pics of the yummmy grilled dinner and the margaritas.

I have downloaded my camera, and do have several things to show you all when a few other things settle in around here. Since Bobbi & Amber now have their paintings, I can post pictures of those here, too. ;)

alrighty

Back in Odessa, after several hours, miles, and stops. Once I get my camera downloaded I'll post about it all. Right now it's just nice to be in a comfort zone for me.

travelling...

I'll be heading back to Texas tomorrow - stopping in Houston to see family and job interview, then on across the state for more interviews and to stay with Amber & Bobbi (and grapefruit margaritas, so I hear... which I'm looking forward to!) Then on to Odessa, and a few more job interviews lined up in the Midland-Odessa area.

This means about a week of travel, this means I've got to load my car with a few things, this means that for now Rob will not be traveling with me - and that sucks.

So - to those I'll be seeing soon - see you soon! And to everyone else - can I catch you on the next trip? 'Cause if Rob is gonna be in Florida, I'm gonna have to find one of these great jobs so I can go back and forth and see him more often!

whirlwind weekend

YUM!



Oh, you should try this!





Our friend Steve had told us of this little place down in St. Augustine, this little place that has Chocolate covered Key Lime Pie on a steek (We heavily reference Jose Jalapeño when saying this... and if you have no idea what I'm talking about and want a laugh, click here.)

It was a lovely day Saturday, windy, but sunshiny, and after a lot of rain here recently, I was enjoying it. We went and wandered some of St. George Square, along with hundreds of others out savoring the day. Lots of bikes on the roads, lots of shorts and sandals, lots of people wandering about.

Some post-it art found on random signs along the streets:



Which is cool to me, I love random art in random places. But these post-its were all over the Square, not just near the local Art Society building or the art galleries in the tourist square streets.

Since St. Augustine is historical to the point that the whole place is a museum, and it's right there on the ocean and inter coastal, there area a lot of influences in the local artist's work shown here. Lots of blues. Lots of glass.


We took full advantage of the lack of plans for the afternoon and stopped at this little pizza & beer place with a nice little courtyard.

Shade, beers, and just the two of us chilling out discussing the "what we might do someday" thoughts that rolled past.


More meandering, wandering shops with clothes or books or jewelry or art or chimes or whatever goods were being sold. We tried to grab dinner at a cafe on A1A, but they were closed for a wedding, so we stopped at a sea side diner place and had more! beer (and a piña coloda), chips, and peel & eat shrimp. Sort of an appetizer, because we then came back to town and grabbed burgers for dinner.

All in all a great, random, art-filled, meandering, relaxing day.

Today we ventured out to the beach for a walk, again beaucoup of folks out and about. We kicked off our sandals and walked awhile, turns out long enough to get us both a little sunburned. Eh, it happens. I kept singing made up songs about the shells and the beach. We watched wind surfers and little kids and puppies and seagulls, while splashing in the water.

Now we're hanging out, watching the Pirates trilogy, and drinking rum. Seemed like a good day to do so, after being at the beach and having sand between our toes...

Road Trip!

We had a wild girls weekend in Georgetown. (if Georgetown could be wild, this was about it) Amber, Bobbi and I meandered the street vendors and the great little shops at the Red Poppy Festival, then cleaned up a bit and ate dinner and went to the Trent Willmon concert/street dance.

Ok, that was the condensed version.


I went to stay with Amber on friday night, we left Saturday and aimed her minivan towards Georgetown. Along the way we stopped and took pictures of wildflowers and each other taking pictures of wildflowers.

We sang along with the radio, joking and chilling along the way. Thankfully Amber made maps, otherwise it would have been a much longer trip! The town square is a neat little place anyway, but the streets were full of vendors with lots of eye catching things. Yeah, and we were admiring the men we saw as well... ;) Lots of pretties - necklaces, rings, artwork. Bobbi & I found photograph prints at one guy's booth that we bought - pretty photos and supporting another artist. I picked up a delicious jar of strawberry-rhubarb jelly, we looked at the cars and trucks in the car show down one street. And then we found the chocolate shop - they had pretty wreaths and ornaments and stuff, but they also had chocolate! Like chocolate covered marshmallows and chocolate covered fritos! Yeah! Grabbed a couple of hotdogs and a Miller Chill at the food tent, we could have done without the Miller Chill. If anyone ever tells you they're good, like the lady selling them at the booth did, please smack some sense into them, it's like lime-ish piss. Thankfully we had chocolate to make everything better!

We made our way around and out, found the hotel and a bit more shopping. Shoes at payless, nail polish and a couple of pretty dresses on sale, back to the hotel to clean up for the night. We dressed up and went back to an italian type restaurant on one of the street corners, we ordered drinks and ogled the waiters, one of whom became our waiter when we were seated.
Dinner was great, we were close enough to the balcony to hear the music starting outside, so after a bit more flirting with the waiter (on my part), we aimed for the stage. Bobbi moved up to the stage taking pictures and swooning (my words, not hers, although she was). I got camping chairs out of the van and we parked ourselves off to the side to watch and listen.

After the concert he came out and signed cd's and took pictures - Trent Willmon really is very nice. I've met some artists who aren't, but he did the street festival for pretty much free because he's from Texas, he played a great set, and he visited his fans. We were all smitten, not just Bobbi, by time we left.

A good long saturday, giggled and talked till we fell asleep, then got up on sunday to head back. We stopped to eat lunch, more people watching, then back on the road. We stopped at Lake Buchanan to take pictures of the ducks - and Bobbi sat down to visit with the ducks.
After they figured out she didn't have any food, they wandered on.

A few more picture stops, we rolled into Menard. Lots of hugging goodbye and I got on the road again to head back home. A huge storm was rolling across past San Angelo as the sun set. I think it was a beautiful way to sum up the weekend as I caught a bit of the lightning on (digital) film, for memories.

So.... where to next, girls?

Fredericksburg Lights

A weekend getaway to wander and visit. Street lights glint in the cooler air, the store are all selling holiday cheer. It's like a welcoming cup of hot apple cider, saying "Come, sit a spell. Watch awhile. There's some pretty things to see here."