tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36326552880737402552024-02-18T22:53:13.976-08:00awesome. mama.awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.comBlogger259125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-12065504219847289912015-07-08T23:08:00.001-07:002015-07-08T23:21:44.934-07:00paint-block. poem-time.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPL_NdTOE7EEPlK6EUaqEpNQGSpql4jtTKfL-A8TNsCsYHGVzhSlhJ2uUoIEA3E4EJrbmsPeomfdjNeuOjYUu8SOj5RfiKvJnskPmcT9Rc3rgClsx4Pkd0DyfJAJbjcz9l32Q42H3y0U/s1600/IMG_3663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPL_NdTOE7EEPlK6EUaqEpNQGSpql4jtTKfL-A8TNsCsYHGVzhSlhJ2uUoIEA3E4EJrbmsPeomfdjNeuOjYUu8SOj5RfiKvJnskPmcT9Rc3rgClsx4Pkd0DyfJAJbjcz9l32Q42H3y0U/s400/IMG_3663.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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i was going to say i should be painting</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but i should remove the word should</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
from my vocabulary</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i am writing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a year ago i started out on a journey</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
at once brave and foolish</div>
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for one can never know</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
just how ill-equipped they are</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
before stepping foot outside</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and continuing past the comfort zone</div>
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<br /></div>
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if you knew the extent of my forgiveness</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i might be considered a saint</div>
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but i also swear</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and sometimes have</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
an unresolved heart</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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though i'm working on that, too</div>
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because resentment sucks</div>
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<br /></div>
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what if i just said</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i love this life i love this life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
over and over again</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
even when the shit gets tough</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and i say i want to run away</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i love this life i love this life</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i will sit with what resides within</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
until i can seek outside interests</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
without going without</div>
awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-48115619073288436352015-03-11T00:49:00.000-07:002015-03-17T11:13:04.688-07:00not even three months into the year and already a new word...last friday, i was driving home from work, tired but exhilarated - it was right after <a href="http://www.strangerfactory.com/">stranger factory's</a> first opening reception in our new space! my mind was all over the place but also aware and as cautious as usual. i was driving up a four-lane hill and needed to get in the left-most lane. i am always aware of cars i may pass or cars that are behind me and even though it was late and i hadn't passed any cars, i also always double and triple check because, you never know. i never assume i'm the only one on the road and i have a little routine that involves not only being aware of my surroundings, but turning my head to look behind before switching lanes (i think driver's ed sufficiently scared me into never, ever using the rearview mirror for lane-switches), and relying upon a little blindspot mirror that awesome papa put on my side mirror shortly after we got the car.<br />
<br />
i was so SO grateful for that little mirror because a car must have hauled ass up the hill and was totally in my blindspot. i wouldn't have seen it in the side mirror, alone, and couldn't see it when i turned my head, but i saw it in the blindspot mirror and gave a little thanks as it passed me, especially since i'd just passed an accident a few minutes prior and and and. always with the reasons to be thankful....<br />
<br />
the car passed me and i got behind it and because my brain <i>pays some weird attention to cars</i>, i took notice that it was a blue ford focus.<br />
<br />
as i approached the street that i was turning left on, an oncoming car turned right and i found myself behind yet another blue ford focus, like identical, and because my brain is just weird, in general, i had a fleeting twilight zone thought, like, how could that car have been traveling ahead of me but also towards me and while i was reassuring myself that it was, in fact, a different car, i had a *lightbulb moment*...<br />
<br />
pretty much f o c u s has to be the word that guides me through the rest of the year.<br />
<br />
truth and i have gotten really close. in fact, truth will always + forever be my word, but focus makes soooooooooooooo much sense. in fact, the two work well together...so well that the following night i wrote down "truth + focus" and the fumblings of some other words that might someday be a poem and shared them with a progress pic of a new painting on <a href="https://instagram.com/p/z9E3OVDH5W/?modal=true">instagram</a>.<br />
<br />
but anyway...i don't want to say i lack focus because i certainly don't but the only way i can accomplish all the things is to focus more or better or something...and i don't want to say it's a little bit scary, but it kind of is because in order to focus or to have focus, it seems one must also know what they want. it's true that for the past several years, so many of the things i set out to do happened, but still, many others didn't. it's also true that some of them were things i didn't actually want to do, or changed my mind about upon initial attempts or further reflection...but there are some serious things i want to do that i can't do without more focus...so, through the all the symbolism one can muster from metallic blue american-made cars (are they even actually made here anymore?), the universe has spoken.<br />
<br />
focus, it is.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRC0WEdbNx_dCkPn3S9o1uZ4Sznx8GS6QvlNK03SDqJrihhb3iVXJJVQQIg4YgvpTEpCaOhRS3iu0qdd3nMXJIQRRQJCzK_HeR40wl71xe_Jne8QJGCfkh3wHlvH2-DfUsN6MvueG2Lk0/s1600/mirror+focus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRC0WEdbNx_dCkPn3S9o1uZ4Sznx8GS6QvlNK03SDqJrihhb3iVXJJVQQIg4YgvpTEpCaOhRS3iu0qdd3nMXJIQRRQJCzK_HeR40wl71xe_Jne8QJGCfkh3wHlvH2-DfUsN6MvueG2Lk0/s1600/mirror+focus.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
also.<br />
<br />
some miracles have totally happened this year. like, in the last month, actually. SO MUCH STUFF.<br />
i can't even put any of it into words right now, probably because i am still at the beginning stages of harnessing the power of EVEN MORE FOCUS and also because it's nearly <strike>2</strike> 3 a.m.<br />
<br />
so....<br />
peace<br />
love<br />
rock + roll<br />
<br />
\m/<br />
<br />
oh, and sleep! i anticipate a more focused update soon-ish ....awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-84795362916189584882015-01-06T11:58:00.000-08:002016-01-01T19:20:49.208-08:00year in review, word of the year, blah blah<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDUioWv79BXfiRaEMtXT3AX5s-xG_nX5J8LpdUWGeTwW01KqXfBT-cCHj9tdjx1rlFi_yieHyVtm3tIxRurMAiSMpuRq6OH0mvIU4SRYXWXSsFVHQ3dw1r8NSaythb4x22TIG0YO3tiI/s1600/bokeh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDUioWv79BXfiRaEMtXT3AX5s-xG_nX5J8LpdUWGeTwW01KqXfBT-cCHj9tdjx1rlFi_yieHyVtm3tIxRurMAiSMpuRq6OH0mvIU4SRYXWXSsFVHQ3dw1r8NSaythb4x22TIG0YO3tiI/s1600/bokeh.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">the light, just right, on a pile of words<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
this whole year in review thing has been weeks in the making and i just figured out why...<br />
i don't really want to do it. not in the traditional, wordy sense...<br />
<br />
last year was t o u g h.<br />
and awesome.<br />
and just.<br />
<br />
i can't even.<br />
<br />
to write about it like i used to, to explain, in detail? so unnecessary.<br />
<br />
i went back to my roots in many ways...i started writing. so. much. poetry. last fall. i needed to say things clearly and quickly. i needed to write it all down and i cannot even tell you how fast the last four months have gone by. i couldn't even begin to go back and highlight last year, month by month, because everything before august is just all the other stuff. the growth that's occurred since then has been organic, necessary, but immensely fast. put to the test, 35 years in the making.<br />
<br />
i didn't even just save the hundreds of words i was<br />
going to share instead of these ones.<br />
<br />
that's progress.<br />
deletions, letting go.<br />
<br />
like, no fucks given.<br />
let's do this thing.<br />
<br />
it was the first year in many that i wasn't<br />
dragging still in spring<br />
carrying leftovers from<br />
the depression of winters past<br />
<br />
it was the year i learned what creating<br />
boundaries actually looks like<br />
<br />
after lifetimes of practice, it was the year i stopped<br />
needing my mother's approval or anyone else's<br />
<br />
the good i sought and the good parts<br />
i held on to weren't a lie<br />
but i was still telling the sad tale<br />
and i didn't want to anymore<br />
<br />
so i started writing and i finished looking<br />
in those last journals, the hard ones<br />
<br />
much harder than the ones filled with the spirit of my past<br />
and the trauma in my dna<br />
the truths that i have never denied<br />
<br />
because they contained the truths of my present<br />
that i did not want to see<br />
<br />
it was the year i took to my own bed again<br />
something i hadn't even had since childhood,<br />
having had a baby or child next to me since that<br />
first night in january when i came home from the hospital<br />
with my first baby and put him in his crib<br />
then started crying at how tiny he looked<br />
there in the center of a vast and cold<br />
plastic covered mattress, no matter that<br />
his crib was outfitted with looney tunes<br />
bedding i'd saved for, all i could think about<br />
was the mattress and how could<br />
i let this baby who had grown inside<br />
of my sixteen year old body<br />
lay anywhere but in my arms?<br />
<br />
so, after 19 years of this boy next to me thing<br />
i took to my own bed, in my boys' room,<br />
and they're still next to me, but it's mine<br />
and i can eat rice cakes in it if i want<br />
<br />
it was the year that another one of those things<br />
i wrote down over and over again came to pass<br />
<br />
or all of them<br />
all of the things i have written about have come to pass<br />
<br />
it was the year i stopped being afraid<br />
of becoming the story<br />
<br />
i am the story<br />
nothing but the story<br />
and i'll call her<br />
truth<br />
<br />
it was the year i was able to say<br />
you know that i am not my upbringing<br />
and most importantly i am not a hypocrite<br />
because that's what matters to me<br />
and that's all that matters<br />
<br />
it was the year i got over <i>the one</i><br />
having come to the conclusion<br />
that he never could have loved me<br />
more than i could love myself<br />
which was not at all back then<br />
<br />
it was the year i got over my marriage<br />
which did nothing but mirror the black hole i brought with me<br />
because marriage isn't a cure for loneliness<br />
infinity times infinity is the same as zero<br />
<br />
it was the year i came back to myself<br />
stopped looking homeless<br />
<br />
it was the year that people<br />
once again took notice<br />
<br />
i did behave in ways i could be proud of<br />
and when i didn't it wasn't the end of the world<br />
it was just another chance at this life thing<br />
<br />
which is all we're here to do<br />
we can't figure it all out<br />
but we can be gentle<br />
with ourselves and others<br />
<br />
last year, finding a word, was hard<br />
eventually i chose wild or it chose me<br />
but in reviewing what i'd written at the start of 2014<br />
i had written that free/dom was the word<br />
and only in retrospect can i see how the<br />
two were tied together, for i could never have<br />
been free until i reclaimed my wildness<br />
<br />
in this year, on the continued path<br />
of forgiveness and being human<br />
the word that will guide me is:<br />
<br />
<b>truth.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1qck2bQuJu8hTeJO9QhOh38OQdPH0rpshR6R_NB4sn2vUiHn7nNCkQPLzF5Ir-1Td58Km5VWAeUA25hPh2YYVTJo5sNXonQAOe__b8ZIfpc3NwwNEFyTh4ujJvQzkz0Q1YvEqXQ0EFI/s1600/laptop.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1qck2bQuJu8hTeJO9QhOh38OQdPH0rpshR6R_NB4sn2vUiHn7nNCkQPLzF5Ir-1Td58Km5VWAeUA25hPh2YYVTJo5sNXonQAOe__b8ZIfpc3NwwNEFyTh4ujJvQzkz0Q1YvEqXQ0EFI/s1600/laptop.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-87028320143703261232014-11-11T12:33:00.003-08:002014-11-11T12:33:38.863-08:00think about the children<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<i style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">let the world break your heart</i><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>get devastatingly broken</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> </i></span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>then get up</i></span><br />
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>you can't stay there</i></span><br />
<div style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">i wrote that down a couple of weeks ago when i was thinking about how my current circumstances might have once left me in bed for days but, so far, have not. it's true that the last time my heart was devastatingly broken, i was in my twenties and now i'm a bit closer to my forties with more than a dozen years of trying to be zen under my belt. so while i can say i'm pretty sure what i've felt in the last few months has been both devastating and heartbreaking, i'm moving through with a bravery i didn't even know i possessed.</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>i am not afraid. i am not afraid. i am not afraid.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">that is something else i've been writing down a lot, lately.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">
<span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">this isn't going to come as a surprise. </span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px; white-space: pre-wrap;">it shouldn't, really. </span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px; white-space: pre-wrap;">we had a fifty/fifty chance. </span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px; white-space: pre-wrap;">same as anyone. but </span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">after three-ish months of what i called an emotional separation, the decision to divorce became clear.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">it wasn't one thing or another but ten years of all the things and finally admitting that we veered off course a few too many times trying to meet each other at least halfway. we were always on different paths, often facing different directions. </span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px; white-space: pre-wrap;">we lost ourselves in the process of trying to keep it together and manage expectations that neither one of us really ever wanted to fulfill.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">recently i ran into an old friend. i congratulated him on his newlywed status and he mentioned that he was on his third wife. </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>"marriage,"</i></b> he said, <i><b>"is something i've never been afraid to fail at."</b></i></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">it was an a-ha moment. we hadn't failed. <span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">for ten years, my husband and i had done the best we could with what we had. we did our best and it wasn't enough and that's okay. we could put in some more effort. we could keep rehashing old subjects or addressing newer ones. we could probably even create some more. but it's exhausting. </span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">the day i verbalized how seriously we should consider divorce, i later came across this vintage-y metal sign. i'd always wanted something similar to a hand-embroidered "recipe" that long hung in my grandmother's kitchen and later in my mother's. lately i've also been more than acutely aware of all the signs and "reminders" i keep around the house and how i've got to be better about reading them and putting them into practice before letting frustrations and low-vibrational responses get the best of me. this sign wasn't romantic, nor was it unrealistic, it seemed like something our family could truly focus on throughout the day during this period of transition. i hung it eye-level for the kids in our dining area and i find myself taking pause in front of it several times a day.
</span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNt6wMUgJVMb5xaz9QQfEqc3DFvGeIa0B-HhS9QJuwj9JqY2WCklQYrvh7UkKCMIfZqF90UVy-KwG4vFjxFDm105aL3WXUfXJtLap6zRSg3JrDwP95YYE6rT09vwOEvTH83xbGnE8iaz4/s1600/recipe+for+healthy+life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNt6wMUgJVMb5xaz9QQfEqc3DFvGeIa0B-HhS9QJuwj9JqY2WCklQYrvh7UkKCMIfZqF90UVy-KwG4vFjxFDm105aL3WXUfXJtLap6zRSg3JrDwP95YYE6rT09vwOEvTH83xbGnE8iaz4/s400/recipe+for+healthy+life.jpg" width="387" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;"><br /></span></span><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">i keep hearing these imaginary people saying "think about the children" and i keep reminding them that i have. it's all i've thought about. our children are the only reason my husband and i have stayed together this long, we acknowledge that. it took a few people telling me that kids know and it's way better to divorce than stay in an unhappy or unfulfilling marriage for me to admit that i used to say the very same thing, before i was married with children. for many years it felt complicated, selfish, and scary to consider separating, how could i dismantle my family just because i wasn't <i>happy</i>? it can be said that staying together for the children is a noble cause but it can also be more damaging than divorce. in the process of exploring my ideals, i dug deep and the answer was still that simple: it's better to divorce than basically uphold a lie out of social obligation. happiness is an inside job, anyway, but i had to really consider what kind of example i was setting for my children by staying and repeating the same patterns, ad nauseam. i don't want them to settle for less than they deserve or to think they don't deserve much, in the first place. i don't want them to be so selfless that they lose sight of themselves in order to try to keep a broken relationship together. </span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">see next: it is out of love, not hate or anger, that we are choosing this path.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a strong love </span></span><span style="line-height: 18.3999996185303px; white-space: pre-wrap;">doesn't</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"> meet all needs, it doesn't guarantee open communication, and it doesn't always look ideal. at the risk of sounding like a wimp, sometimes love isn't all there is, sometimes it doesn't have to be this hard.</span></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">of course, there is some sense of sadness and grief. it is most definitely a loss, if only of ideas and a promise made to our children, but there is a lesson in all things and the relationship isn't coming to an end, only changing. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">we will, of course, continue to co-parent and also co-habitate. we want to slowly transition into a situation that doesn't just work well for us, but also the boys, since they have the least amount of control over the situation. we're sort of making the rules as we go along, with as much peace and grace as possible.</span><br />
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and so it is.<br />
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awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-67971149620861273712014-09-18T09:49:00.000-07:002014-09-18T10:48:14.567-07:00"she'll tell you she's an orphan, after you meet her family..."i am holding hard truths<br />
with only my own weak weight to catch the fall<br />
<br />
i get up and start over...<br />
<br />
grandmother's love did not look like<br />
homebaked treats and nourishment<br />
it was are you hungry are you sure let's go get something to eat<br />
and sometimes it was sit down and expensive<br />
and other times it was gas station pizza<br />
<br />
mother's love did not look like<br />
anything that ever existed for me<br />
it was you're not good enough what's wrong with you leave me alone<br />
and sometimes it was pretending to care<br />
and other times it was embarrassment<br />
<br />
your love felt the same<br />
another comfortable lie that this was safe<br />
until the wound, in search of light,<br />
could no longer be contained<br />
<br />
. . .<br />
<br />
an incomplete poem about an ever-pressing journey to self.<br />
<br />
sometimes i just want to run away and never come back, find neverland, start over, as in books, in a new town. as if people can just slip into new lives...<br />
<br />
i do all sorts of things to escape and all sorts of things to stay stuck, but engagement doesn't come easy. mostly all i can say is, "i don't know." but that's probably not true. it's probably easier to feign indecisiveness and certainty than the core of my own truth.<br />
<br />
. . .<br />
<br />
in other news, instead of doing something drastic to my hair, as i often do during times likes this, i'm undoing my dreads. it started out as a mess, friends suggested i just shave them off, how liberating it is to just cut it. i've been there and done that. valency saved the day by offering to give it a go and she managed to take my largest dread out without issue...after a deep conditioning, you can't even tell that all that hair was a tangled mess for the better part of a year.<br />
<br />
i'm undoing them slowly and gently (got three small ones out last night) and finding the untangling process to be way more liberating. i'm not cutting loose of the pain and the grief, of the could-have-beens and lost causes, i'm sitting with and shifting through them.<br />
<br />
every now and then i hear my mom telling her friend, "oh, she <i>thinks</i> she's dreading her hair." as if i hadn't just shown her the actual dreads already in place, as if i wasn't standing right there.<br />
<br />
she also used to tell me i wouldn't like them. years before i went on my short dread journey, even. in honesty, i do like them (but mostly on other people.) dreads are more high maintenance than i ever imagined, pulling them apart was a bunch of no fun, and the lumpy, big dreads really harsh my shavasana and other yoga poses where a flat neck and back are crucial. and so on, with the logic...<br />
<br />
i started this little dread journey out of love, as a way back to myself and while there are times when hacking at the roots is absolutely the most legitimate response, i am choosing to honor this current passage with a gentleness and patience that feels brand new. i am getting unstuck, and finally choosing slow and steady over sharp objects.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5Oa5sf3g9JEuHl24igCoR_RuUq5cMAdfFaDp6dSUIDmf2aG7ieQm7dht5WA1i0eVlb5xqUzFGvutc8xk3X8F_XO50hcPcQpxh2-rnuWrvTVFoxnGI5RgYvuj71LuifCG0bXd5Uxieyo/s1600/light+seeker.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5Oa5sf3g9JEuHl24igCoR_RuUq5cMAdfFaDp6dSUIDmf2aG7ieQm7dht5WA1i0eVlb5xqUzFGvutc8xk3X8F_XO50hcPcQpxh2-rnuWrvTVFoxnGI5RgYvuj71LuifCG0bXd5Uxieyo/s1600/light+seeker.JPG" height="400" width="363" /></a></div>
<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-29632088203405839122014-09-07T10:56:00.000-07:002014-09-07T11:22:27.857-07:00sunday reflection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://awesomama.blogspot.com/2014/07/people-are-strange-when-youre-stranger.html">remember the one where i was talking about how my dream job basically fell into my lap?</a> </div>
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and remember how i was worried that bad shit would start rolling in?</div>
<br />
well it did start rolling but instead of dampening my spirit, it became the fertile ground needed to grow just a little bit more.<br />
<br />
life is a constant state of celebration and grief, always fluctuating between experience and emotion. sometimes they conflict and it is often a sign of what needs our attention. i'm putting these words into practice: even in moments of grief and loss there can also be thanks, gratitude, and love.<br />
<br />
life as a constant state of grace.<br />
<br />
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wild was my word of the year and wild this year has been.</div>
the last six weeks were no exception.<br />
<br />
i've been hanging on by the seat of my pants, acting from a place of love instead of fear, wanting only the highest good and the best possible outcome (but attached to none), ready to confront and heal what keeps coming up...<br />
<br />
i found myself back on the yoga mat, answering, though still somewhat resisting, the urgency to get back in my body, to listen to myself and to stop ignoring my intuition. not just again but from now on. always.<br />
<br />
today i am walking in gratitude for the friendships that provide just what i need, in just the right way. the created family, fashioned of broken bits, made stronger as we walk together in our healing work.<br />
<br />
i am also thankful for the broken bits that fell away, as painful as it was or maybe still is. i am thankful for words and stories and the breadcrumbs i have gathered, for being brave enough to face the truth, even at the cost of people and places i have loved the most. it's the price of admission for pushing through and out of anger and fear and denial.<br />
<br />
i have some scars to show for it and my face is weary. the sun hurts my thirty five year old eyes and they can no longer see as well in the dark, but i hold fast.<br />
<br />
incredible things are happening.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOUmCMn2niTmapXaFq78k1dJ_hP4_oWc-hjU0IzEUvq2X5peKamsP3tJE3ymaGX7MZDP7iSF9hYSxA2yn2OqwTnt6qb2z_30IA7cebmnssy6-fhbrYW1mTt0N7PlZ0Vlrb35cGxrxzl9g/s1600/there+is+a+light+and+it+never+goes+out.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOUmCMn2niTmapXaFq78k1dJ_hP4_oWc-hjU0IzEUvq2X5peKamsP3tJE3ymaGX7MZDP7iSF9hYSxA2yn2OqwTnt6qb2z_30IA7cebmnssy6-fhbrYW1mTt0N7PlZ0Vlrb35cGxrxzl9g/s1600/there+is+a+light+and+it+never+goes+out.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-1651901182244264672014-07-27T11:52:00.000-07:002014-07-27T12:23:06.385-07:00people are strange when you're a stranger...i have put this blog post off for a few weeks because i'm not really savvy on how to share good news while life sort of goes on and not awesome shit also happens. i'll simply say this: since returning from california, all efforts to clear old patterns and old energy have been amped up, whether i liked it or not.<br />
<br />
it's been worth it, though. all that clearing has made space for new things to emerge and the bottom line is: growth.<br />
<br />
i realize i haven't yet shared my word of the year because even now, end of july, i'm still easing into it.<br />
<br />
<i><b>wild</b>. </i><br />
<br />
it chose me and i played hard to get, knowing full well a word like that would not fail to live up to my own ideas about being more natural and unabashed, centered in truth, unencumbered by expectations. this year was about embracing and stepping into who i really am, okay in my skin, okay in my world. though it has not been without loss and as it goes on i am more and more convinced that loss should never be quantified. each grief is its own thing and requires individual attention rather than comparison and every ending also brings with it empty space waiting to be filled. that cliche is true.<br />
<br />
it's how it works, this constant state of letting go...<br />
<br />
when you surrender and get out of your own way, they say miracles happen. and they do, but also, in the middle of all those miracles, life still happens. you may receive confirmation that you're on the right path but may also consciously or not-so-consciously wait for the punchline, in which it will be revealed that the joke is on you. <i>oh? you wanted this lovely thing? well, you don't get it, you don't deserve it, something bad's around the bend...</i><br />
<br />
incidentally, as i was writing up this blog post, my middlest was watching a video and they mentioned <i>cherophobia</i>, a legit fear of feeling happy because you're afraid something bad will happen. <a href="http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/codes-joy/201405/is-fear-happiness-real">this article pretty much sums up my experience with that</a>, though i might also add that part of my difficulties around good news is how awfully people have responded to it, with insults or warnings or reasons why good things never last. through practice, i've gotten pretty good at accepting the mixed bag that is most days. some are full of blessings, some full of junk, and most have a little bit of both (and also, nothing lasts, that's sort of the beauty of it).<br />
<br />
<i>you take the good, you take the bad, you take 'em both and there you have the facts of life</i>....right?<br />
<br />
i'm down with change and growth and also to authentically experiencing joy in the moments meant to be enjoyed. so, life's happening, things are not under my control, and good things are afoot.<br />
<br />
recently my work has also experienced a growth spurt, and as i settle, post-shift, i feel less all over the place. i've not been as likely to share my works in progress as i've been in the past, but i'm liking the quieter spaces i find myself in as i paint and move in a clearer direction. i have decided to start signing my paintings differently, as well, outgrowing what now feels sophomoric. there will be some sales and some giveaways as i part with old art, too, so stay tuned...<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4_omDA-GgHqJ3dZBoNGT67r76-RywopnOu2ahpy0sVuZXU4SVMUeMysId-k_iUBks_40U-JyLD6u07LB7ru55WZQpV12JAGokcI18oxcybrqR6kFzx7PyJJDLLEv29w5bgzYsUJ2L-w/s1600/new+work.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4_omDA-GgHqJ3dZBoNGT67r76-RywopnOu2ahpy0sVuZXU4SVMUeMysId-k_iUBks_40U-JyLD6u07LB7ru55WZQpV12JAGokcI18oxcybrqR6kFzx7PyJJDLLEv29w5bgzYsUJ2L-w/s1600/new+work.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">new WIPs and old works with new elements<br />
all stages of progress</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
and now, drumroll please....<br />
<br />
in getting out of my own way, my dream job sort of just materialized and fell into my lap. of course there was a bunch of behind-the-scenes action, as well, but through the magic of intention and the wonders of social media, i got a job at <a href="http://strangerfactory.com/">stranger factory</a>, a toy store/gallery that's been at the top of my dream list since the wife and i went there on my 33rd magical mystery birthday tour. i knew i wanted to get my work in there but knew it wasn't ready at the time. in fact, even until, like, right now, i'd been too intimidated to take my artwork in and show the owners or director.<br />
<br />
i wasn't even looking for a job but was looking at what i could do to generate more art income. i had a plan and some of it included things i wasn't sure i wanted to do and definitely didn't feel ready to do, like hosting art parties and developing an e-course, as well as things i was ready to do like seek out more local venues and galleries to hang my work.<br />
<br />
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i'm still walking around in shock and it's been two weeks. i really get to work for and with <a href="http://www.kathieolivas.com/">kathie olivas</a>, her husband, <a href="http://www.brandtpeters.com/">brandt peters</a>, as well as the super-fab, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ValencyArt">valency genis</a>?!?! i mean! *pinch me*</div>
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<br /></div>
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okay. and this is just adorable...i stumbled upon valency's blog and <a href="http://fabulousvalency.blogspot.com/">her last post</a> (a few months after i went in there the first time in 2012) just so happened to include her happy announcement about starting at the stranger factory, too! whoa synchronicity.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY6EbBUt1cTmqG5nec2VgAHsBH5SpC1qxD5zzJtFKEf2IzeWN8Z9A4utoshZDUf4uI8CmaZn609Qwz7L5HR40wX0IcvYTJmbid4WHuvuDO-n0HK4KtSylrjsezQjBxTn_Mk8YKLGET9_g/s1600/kathie+valency+hybrid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY6EbBUt1cTmqG5nec2VgAHsBH5SpC1qxD5zzJtFKEf2IzeWN8Z9A4utoshZDUf4uI8CmaZn609Qwz7L5HR40wX0IcvYTJmbid4WHuvuDO-n0HK4KtSylrjsezQjBxTn_Mk8YKLGET9_g/s1600/kathie+valency+hybrid.jpg" height="400" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">totally in love with this collab between kathie and valency.<br />
and saving my pennies!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
anyhow. yeah. wow. i attribute much of the legwork to valency, actually, and i thank her for keeping up with me on instagram (even while she was in the UK for a year) and putting in a good word for me. i am super stoked to be part of such an amazing group of creatives - the energy, the opportunity, i'm just so grateful for it all - life does not get any less strange and i kind of love it!<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPO31_ZrFdrFLba-nKE31yN0_SkXuMw2TtC7wTQg9V_JGwh5rOUn69zAFDe30pQz9YvFSMO8cXNZmXSDnjQOr65H609YKl1Go09ELW8Uuhmx591UhXgDY2h2x_MwQEXsjltZKSP576hw/s1600/be+happy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPO31_ZrFdrFLba-nKE31yN0_SkXuMw2TtC7wTQg9V_JGwh5rOUn69zAFDe30pQz9YvFSMO8cXNZmXSDnjQOr65H609YKl1Go09ELW8Uuhmx591UhXgDY2h2x_MwQEXsjltZKSP576hw/s1600/be+happy.jpg" height="365" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">signs, signs, everywhere there's signs...<br />
this is on the sidewalk near the gallery ! ! !<br />
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</tbody></table>
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<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-51103757408486218442014-07-14T12:07:00.000-07:002014-07-14T12:50:31.935-07:00beginner's mindlast night, my two littles and i were discussing the idea of breath. i was marveling, first, at the fact that i'd asked them to take some deep breaths with me. and they did.<br />
<br />
they didn't sigh or refuse. they just did it. they've done it before but lately it's not been without conflict or outright refusal. oftentimes we're simply too distracted to get still.<br />
<br />
as we took several good, long inhalations we fell into such a peaceful state that my youngest let out a toot which i subsequently inhaled. fully. before i could even think to stop myself. oh the giggles that caused! even from me. for once, i didn't say anything or wonder whether or not i'd just fart-shamed my kid. i laughed about it. i mean, i <a href="http://time.com/2976464/scientists-say-smelling-farts-might-prevent-cancer/">did just read that sniffing farts can prevent disease</a> but i'm pretty sure it was the actual breath work that helped me not freak the fuck out because omg i've been smelling smelly things that are smelly ever since my little brother was born and i'm over it.<br />
<br />
after the laughter subsided, i started to think about how we take breath for granted. expecting it to be automatic, we often hold our breath without even realizing it. an awareness of our breath can reduce the impact of stress, but only if we <i>really</i> breathe. i know. obvious, but also epiphany. i took the opportunity to ask the boys how often they took such deep, cleansing breaths on their own.<br />
<br />
my eight year old said, "when i'm reminded to."<br />
<br />
"and how often are you reminded?"<br />
<br />
"about once a week."<br />
<br />
i remind myself to breathe several times a day and i remind them more than once a week, though, as i mentioned, we're not always receptive. if i had to guess, i'd say i only take deep, cleansing breaths about 1 time for every 6 reminders.<br />
<br />
"what kinds of things could we do to remind ourselves more often?" i asked.<br />
<br />
a circular argument ensued wherein my eight year old suggested that you just remember and then do it until it becomes habit, problem solved.<br />
<br />
maybe it is that easy for some folks and i just muddied up his story by explaining that sometimes we forget the things we need to remember, especially when there's quite a few of them, so it helps if we have other ways to remind ourselves.<br />
<br />
"we could write it down!" he said.<br />
<br />
"good. we could write it down. i write stuff down all the time, in notebooks. then i close them and don't open them again until i have something else to write...how could we make our reminders more visible?"<br />
<br />
"let's write it on our arm"<br />
<br />
"okay," i said, "actually, i'll write it on my hand like a gangsta: <i>breathe, muthafucka</i><i>.</i>"<br />
<br />
at which point, my suddenly very moral five year old says, "i don't want you to be a whatever you just said. you're not a gangsta."<br />
<br />
"you're right...but," i tried to recover, "<a href="http://jenlee.net/journal/iconic-in-the-making-clark-kent-tanks-part-one.html">there's a shirt that says: gentle spirit badass motherfucker on it</a>. i think of it often, we can be both. i mean, i am both a gentle spirit <i>and</i> a badass motherfucker."<br />
<br />
"but that's bad," he said.<br />
<br />
"the words can have bad feelings associated with them, but they're not bad, in and of themselves. one day you may appreciate that mama thinks batman, for instance, is a badass motherfucker and that's not a bad thing...but for now, i will be more mindful of my language."<br />
<br />
i didn't explain to him how i no longer define things as good or bad because i embrace the way light and dark can and must co-exist. i know that buddha says we must be impeccable with our word, but i will probably always swear. some part of me, no matter how softened, will always be a little hardcore, however, mindful daily practice helps me act less out of guilt, and more out of a desire to best model what i want for myself and for my children. he is only five and all that matters to him is that i am his kind mama. right. now.<br />
<br />
"mama? don't really put that word on your hand."<br />
<br />
i assure him that i won't and then smile at my own beginner's mind. though i feel always-mindful of his sensitivity, i'd taken for granted his sweet innocence. it hadn't occurred to me that he would think i'd actually put a swear word on my body.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4wqAgCVL-fE9W-52pIpIK97WDmfyIdcckn07S922uLcsZnxhWH6BACNaEwt5yZYAWdYXx81b5Mpsly12w9n_7RujlcnKrzXm21OqCisKM7MEyjpKhpXONmXmx0lHtBR_aTbF6FfzhFo/s1600/breathe+temporary+tattoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4wqAgCVL-fE9W-52pIpIK97WDmfyIdcckn07S922uLcsZnxhWH6BACNaEwt5yZYAWdYXx81b5Mpsly12w9n_7RujlcnKrzXm21OqCisKM7MEyjpKhpXONmXmx0lHtBR_aTbF6FfzhFo/s1600/breathe+temporary+tattoo.jpg" height="400" width="380" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yeah. i'm not gangsta.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
even though both boys are playing at the neighbor's, and it is mildly tempting to at least add "mofo" after "breathe," i won't even do that. i will keep my word.<span style="background-color: white; color: #134f5c; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
i have been called to clear massive amounts of old energy (dare, i say ALL the old energy?) and today, especially, i am looking around my beautiful, cozy home with new eyes and carefully listening to myself, learning where i am still stuck.<br />
<br />
"i might want that big craft table in my studio but it's so heavy and would be such a pain in the ass to move" or "i could move my desk and put yoga stuff in that corner, but then i'd have to rearrange all that stuff on the wall."<br />
<br />
my vision and my motivation are not currently in sync, in all areas. and that's okay.<br />
<br />
the opportunity to change arises in each moment. thereafter, it becomes a conscious choice. much like my eight year old described, you can just decide to do something and then go do it, however, in my experience, not without frequent reminders and baby steps, and not all at once.<br />
<br />
they don't call it practice for nothing ;)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-45924125284737482392014-05-02T13:45:00.002-07:002014-05-05T09:41:34.088-07:00on overcoming. or "get over your hill and see..."i posted this on facebook <strike>a week or so ago</strike> on sunday, four days before i started this post last night.<br />
(that's what kind of week this has been.)<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNW7zZHkO5owdMAgWGIJjVWi1HJAfIIot6KWyGmk16KXi5lkFjrXplMHxdDJkNWi7Shy2QXV3a36Bso1TCg2607zRCt64xZIoyF_UYxlSUGle83uDmZYdRxES9_U_I43x-f3iQ0QeTa7M/s1600/april+ts+eliot.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNW7zZHkO5owdMAgWGIJjVWi1HJAfIIot6KWyGmk16KXi5lkFjrXplMHxdDJkNWi7Shy2QXV3a36Bso1TCg2607zRCt64xZIoyF_UYxlSUGle83uDmZYdRxES9_U_I43x-f3iQ0QeTa7M/s1600/april+ts+eliot.png" /></a></div>
<br />
one of those people was my best friend, also known as my wife.<br />
<br />
one of the reasons she's my wife is because we have come to the understanding that sometimes we just need a break from each other in order to grow, or not grow. we have crossed paths, went our separate ways, and re-convened at several junctures since we met, almost 18 years ago. it's the way we learn things and expand our boundaries. i will not be so arrogant as to claim certainty over events that have yet to happen so there's no way for me to know that history will repeat itself or when or how. for all i know, she may never speak to me again.<br />
<br />
i felt an almost instantaneous peace with it all for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was having just read, "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1400045371/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1400045371&linkCode=as2&tag=awesomama-20&linkId=BE7BEG37MMDBWY5G">loving what is</a>," by <a href="http://www.thework.com/index.php">byron katie</a>. plus, some pretty big internal shifts were taking place and <a href="http://creativejuicesarts.com/blog/the-sky-is-not-falling-even-though-it-feels-that-way-the-upcoming-april-2014-astro-shenanigans/">i was all prepared for the grand cross</a> and shit. wished her peace, as well, and that was that.<br />
<br />
interestingly, i started this post last night and this popped up on my FB feed this morning.<br />
and well, it sums up where i'm at with all that. a lot...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">I used to judge people who didn’t want to work on their ‘issues’ and patterns. I questioned their emotional courage, their fortitude, their depth. To be sure, many of us- myself included- could do a better job of dealing with our stuff head on. But, at the same time, I now recognize that we cannot know how courageous someone else is by looking at their lives from the outside. Perhaps they are carr</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 18px;">ying around so much unresolved emotional material- their own, even that of the collective- that they do not have any energy left over for processing. Or perhaps they are working in the deep within in ways that we cannot begin to imagine- healing their unresolveds, quietly building the egoic foundation necessary to take on the next level of inner work. It’s so hard to know where courage lives. </span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 18px;">- Jeff Brown</span></b></span></div>
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just a day or so after the break-up my oldest son comes to me and says maybe he doesn't want to go to college after all, maybe he wants to move to california. i told him that i totally support him pursuing his dreams and all, but he kind of needed a plan. graduation was three weeks away.<br />
<br />
he said he could look into a job transfer and mentioned staying with some friends that lived in the bay area but also wanting to play music on the SoCal beaches and while i love a good sense of adventure, i also like safety measures. he'd just returned from a spring break choir trip to disneyland and it's pretty much his favorite place ever so i asked him if he'd thought about working there. <br />
<br />
he got right on it and applied. he texted me last thursday: <i>i have an interview for disneyland on may 1st.</i><br />
<br />
then he texted me again: <i>it's in person. they don't do phone interviews anymore.</i><br />
<br />
<i><b>WHAT?!?</b></i><br />
<br />
my mom agreed to drive him out there.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>two days later, i kicked him out of the house*.</b><br />
<br />
it was actually a very conscious decision even if it came in the midst of drama, even if i could have just let it go, even if byron katie, herself, might have a chuckle because i'd wanted him to fill out the <a href="https://www.thework.com/dothework.php">judge-your-neighbor-workshee</a>t and he was refusing to cooperate.<br />
<br />
it was the culmination of 18 years of being at odds with the first person i loved with a ferocity i didn't know what to do with...<br />
<br />
i was absolutely DONE being ignored and disrespected and taken for granted while more and more expectations were stacking up against me. even if that's just one perspective and another one is:<br />
<br />
i was also done trying. it was just exhausting and letting things go, being the bigger person, not engaging, well...it looked a lot like being a pushover. if he wasn't coming and going as he pleased, he'd ask something of me and if i wasn't delivering the response he wanted, it was all drama, all the time. i'm still not sure if it was ego or soul preservation at work but i have learned to quickly let go of anything that provokes anger, resentment, shame, guilt and all other manner of hurtful things - i acknowledge their existence but they are not invited on my journey to healing and in the last few years the family members i am still in contact with has dwindled down to nearly zero because i'm all about acknowledging and then breaking these cycles, not repeating them (and sometimes that looks like avoidance, but it's not).<br />
<br />
to explain further would be far outside the scope of this blog post but the history here is that my son has always felt more comfortable calling my mother his mom and living under her roof (*technically, is it kicking him out if he returns to his grandmother's or here when they get back from california?).<br />
<br />
yesterday, exactly a week after the interview was scheduled, he texted me again:<br />
<i>so.....i got the job. i start may 31.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
when i was in disneyland in february for <a href="http://awesomama.blogspot.com/2014/01/im-going-to-disneyland-and-big-news.html">the art journaling the magic workshop</a>, i totally envisioned him there. he just has "the disney look" and he loves LOVES loves disneyland...one of the tour guides in walt's apartment reminded me so much of my son and i just <i>knew</i>, in that moment, he'd fit right in.<br />
<br />
before they left, my mom told me the only reason she agreed to take him was because she knew he'd get the job. i told her i thought the same thing. i felt really positive about this, and despite drama earlier in the week, i wanted nothing but the best for him.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEGIQmgRouFgxaja4A7Wvz2GAEE_SAL34Yf_OHrNvGdPbcfFGZhnpepEfAGs7EBnrjcFNKher7BO-UgC310j7KetCrwYTF4lfFgO2EXSL5O0TwiCTE0yUtA7Ff1lO2RoyCYZCmqeYWRc/s1600/zach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEGIQmgRouFgxaja4A7Wvz2GAEE_SAL34Yf_OHrNvGdPbcfFGZhnpepEfAGs7EBnrjcFNKher7BO-UgC310j7KetCrwYTF4lfFgO2EXSL5O0TwiCTE0yUtA7Ff1lO2RoyCYZCmqeYWRc/s1600/zach.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo cred goes to my sister @ last night's celebratory in-n-out dinner</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
all afternoon and well into last night, i was giddy, giving silent thanks, and undoing the knots in my stomach. nervous but secure. some distance is good and necessary. some of us have to fall a lot or from farther heights when we're learning to fly, some leave the nest fully prepared to soar.<br />
<br />
i am so amazed to be here. living my word. putting faith and trust into action, with absolutely no need to control outcomes or predict the future. if i have given my son anything, it's the confidence to follow his heart. my first baby boy has his foot in the door, and i am still a little wow'd by how quickly things fell into place - and so SO thankful that he can embark upon his first, big adventure with a safety net just large enough to comfort this mama's heart.<br />
<br />
here's to may, which will be no less intense than last month - as we search for living quarters and put in some creative elbow grease to fund his great move out west!<br />
<br />
<br />
♥<br /><br />UPDATE: we may have found *the perfect, most suitable* living situation for zach, we'll know by friday. yay! he wants to leave just a day or two after his graduation ceremony so he's set up a <a href="http://www.gofundme.com/8uzfws">gofundme account</a> to help him on his new adventure. every little bit helps and if you can share the link or spare a few bucks, it would be deeply appreciated!!!awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-35906975468392345212014-04-10T15:08:00.002-07:002014-04-10T16:37:25.556-07:00sweet clarity<div style="text-align: center;">
sweet clarity</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
at once concrete</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
then like running water</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i catch a glimpse</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
cannot grasp</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
make excuses</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
you know every time</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i think i should write it down</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i should</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
because i forget</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
despite everywhere reminders</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
.</div>
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.</div>
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.</div>
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<br /></div>
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i still feel out of sorts</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
out of alignment</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with the seasons</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
does this happen?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
as we age and take up more space?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i've heard time spins faster</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but i always imagined i could keep up</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
.</div>
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.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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i found an old collage</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i think about from time to time</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i'd been looking for it recently</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
thought perhaps i'd thrown it out</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in some fit of being a better me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
now, in the present tense</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i didn't think i'd ever have parted with it</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but knowing that some partings aren't chosen</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i stopped searching</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
last week as i pulled into the garage</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i saw my old art portfolio</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
against the wall</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
by my car door</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
where it's been since the move</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
behind it, the collage</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
started ten years ago</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
i'd been wanting to finish it</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and so it begins</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">girl in circles</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">above the girls it reads: here's to women waging peace</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
being peace</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
daily struggle</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
my children, my guides</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
learning the lessons of reflection</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
mirrored by all</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
last moontime i realized</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
that <strike>some</strike> <strike>most</strike> all external discord</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
is caused by internal disharmony</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and even though i often feel alone,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
adrift, out to sea with no anchor</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it is up to no one but me to reel myself back</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
again</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and again</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
learning to ride the waves</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and kiss the tide</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the reluctant gift of self-reliance</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
.........................................................................................................</div>
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<br />
<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-51499880323080983062014-03-25T22:47:00.002-07:002014-03-31T16:32:27.421-07:00day onei started this post at the beginning of the month.<br />
<div>
it is now nearly over.<br />
i'm almost 35.<br />
i just had to exhale after i typed that.<br />
<br />
actually, i didn't. i typed that at the beginning month and as my birthday swiftly approaches, it's less shocking but...<br />
<br />
i used to think 35 was old.<br />
i used to think i wouldn't live this long.</div>
<div>
(but also, now, i think there were a lot of years i wasn't even living.)<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
i am about to enter my fifth seven year cycle.<br />
and maybe for the first time in my life, i expect great things to come.<br />
i say that in as non-attached a way as possible, which i guess is to say:<br />
great things <i>are</i> to come.<br />
<br />
in fact, they're already here.<br />
<br />
it dawned on me the other day that when someone asks, "how are you (doing/feeling/etc.)? i no longer shrug and say, "meh" or feel as though it's a loaded question that they don't really want me to answer.<br />
<br />
in the past, when things were going well i used to minimize it for fear that it wouldn't last or that i wasn't deserving or that someone would take it away from me.<br />
i used to think others had that much power.<br />
i used to give them that much power.<br />
<br />
it was one of those lessons i had to learn and continue to learn.<br />
i'm not even sure i'll never have to take the test again but right now it feels as though i finally passed a class i'd repeatedly failed.<br />
<br />
i can now say things are great.<br />
i am great.<br />
<br />
and mean it.<br />
<br />
there will probably always be days that i wish stuff was different or easier or better...<br />
<br />
and i know, almost for a fact, that there will still be days when i am stricken by a grief that feels extra-heavy on my bones. that's sort of the way life works.<br />
<br />
it's definitely how i work.<br />
how i feel everything.<br />
<br />
but here's what i've learned, what i carry into this next trip around the sun...<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
just as i can stand firmly<br />
in my fear.<br />
in my loss.<br />
in my head.<br />
<br />
i can also stand, confidently<br />
in celebration.<br />
in love.<br />
in truth.<br />
<br />
isn't that all we can do?<br />
<br />
to live each of our breaths as though they were our last?<br />
to find the joy and pure bliss of this experience and take none of it for granted?<br />
<br />
we are here to feel our emotions, ALL OF THEM, but to react and respond from our core, like the spoke of a wheel.<br />
<br />
stable.<br />
secure.<br />
centered.<br />
<br />
no matter how fast the world is spinning around us.<br />
<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://awesomama.blogspot.com/2012/11/excavation.html">remember that time i had a living room full of journals?</a><br />
<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEB-GVDRrKdj36a1z05YVEAiknPWNxd8JYeYv38sLdNeTdXNK6LhPOiMd0KC9yrXyP712j-si5lfGEAPjVRt03cSJvrOTH83ox-hCvAwKiINTA607Jh-FWDfSYoXf0O76bR9g6NhgzeOA/s1600/journals0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEB-GVDRrKdj36a1z05YVEAiknPWNxd8JYeYv38sLdNeTdXNK6LhPOiMd0KC9yrXyP712j-si5lfGEAPjVRt03cSJvrOTH83ox-hCvAwKiINTA607Jh-FWDfSYoXf0O76bR9g6NhgzeOA/s1600/journals0.jpg" height="435" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">i had to get up on the couch to capture this 8-ft spread.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
reading that blog post again and wow.<br />
<br />
evidence that even slow growth is still growth.<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4a4145; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21.559999465942383px;"><br /></span>
after that first phase,i set aside 16 journals and a portable file box of old poetry to go through at a later date.<br />
i had to give each page the time it deserved before i could just toss it.<br />
these were the pages i'd carried around for fifteen, twenty years. lifetimes.<br />
<br />
last october, <a href="http://awesomama.blogspot.com/2013/11/vision-lost-vision-gained.html">after nearly losing my sight</a>, going through those reserved journals was the goal but i started with my jewelry boxes, little treasures of gemstones in hidden places, my closets, bookshelves, studio...anything to keep me from the hard work<br />
of<br />
digging<br />
through<br />
those<br />
words.<br />
<br />
forever girl in circles.<br />
accepted <i>and</i> embraced.<br />
this is how i roll.<br />
aware, almost the whole time, of i how i get in my own way and distract myself.<br />
i'm the best at it.<br />
<br />
last week i decided it was time to do this thing.<br />
to step aside and enter the the second, most brutal phase.<br />
<br />
i brought out the file box and those 16 journals and sat down in the middle of my studio.<br />
<br />
i'd taken three years of poetry classes when i was getting my psych degree.<br />
because i couldn't afford the luxury of therapy.<br />
i wrote.<br />
badly.<br />
<br />
the other day i threw out my final portfolios.<br />
said good-bye to ten pounds of classroom poetry,<br />
other people's work and their commentary on mine.<br />
<br />
for a minute i thought i'd regret it.<br />
i think it's made for some incredibly strange dreams since.<br />
but i don't regret it.<br />
<br />
i kept my teenage composition notebook with fleetwood mac lyrics and tragic love letters.<br />
and just one embarrassing childhood diary.<br />
<br />
everything is now organized by topic or project and it all fits in a small file box.<br />
<br />
a newer one. with the poetry, went the old, broken one. it's black pleather stood as an ironic box of darkness filled with opinions i no longer needed.<br />
<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
today is day one.<br />
<br />
no more keeping strange hours or staying up until 4am, because, obviously that means that come 8 the next morn, i am not going to be the best functioning person i can be, much less a functioning mama.<br />
<br />
no more fear of ...dun, dun, dun....a schedule.<br />
time-keeping.<br />
keeping track.<br />
<br />
<br />
it occurred to me the other day that what i feared most was that schedules somehow lead to a lack of creativity or spontaneity, that i would lose touch with the very madness that i derive my best ideas from but then i broke it down...<br />
<br />
nothing is never not born from and into chaos, but nothing ever gets done if we're just floating around in chaotic shit all the time. we're not helpless, and no matter how buddhist you are, you have to admit that we are always enacting some sort of control over, or manipulating, at the very least, our experiences. <br />
<br />
schedules can help harness the magic, then action can be taken.<br />
<br />
i confused this necessary step with rigid schedules that constrict and bind and choke.<br />
the kind that are "mandatory" and often associated with a name tag or uniform.<br />
<br />
i am not uniform and so i resisted schedules for years. YEARS. even though, pick up any number of remaining journals of mine and you will see notes that look something like this:<br />
<br />
morning: yoga, stretch, journaling/reading, coffee, breakfast, circle time, stories<br />
<br />
mid-morning: snack, outside play, lesson books, free play<br />
<br />
lunch, clean-up.<br />
art, clean-up.<br />
<br />
afternoon: snack, outside play, story time, stretch/music and movement<br />
<br />
that was my formula for being an awesome, present, involved homeschooling mama but it left very little time or space for me and what else i have to accomplish (like making art, selling art, bookkeeping job-job, and making more books, yo!!!)<br />
<br />
often i would sneak little or large chunks of time for updating the etsy shop or taking photos, painting or writing. i'd stay up late. wake early...or, as of late, wake late more and more and still feel exhausted. i felt scattered and flustered and knew my kids were suffering as much as i was. it wasn't so much that i wasn't giving them proper attention so much as i was inconsistent with it.<br />
<br />
yesterday was one of the worst days we've had in a long time<br />
<br />
i left the boys with awesome papa and did my favorite thing.<br />
drove around a while, then sat in my car and cried.<br />
<br />
before it was time to pick teen up from work, i decided it was time to hit the bookstore, find a book that called to me, and get my head clear. this is my new form of free therapy.<br />
<br />
i saw a copy of hands free mama's new book by the same title.<br />
i was a little meh about all the god-talk but it didn't turn me off as much as some reviewers.<br />
it caught me off guard but the fact that i kept reading it means i've grown as a person.<br />
<br />
and i know how to take what resonates and leave the rest.<br />
<br />
i may have even bought it, save for i'm on a book diet.<br />
plus, what i took from it while i sat there for thirty minutes was just the perspective i needed.<br />
i felt the shift then and there and realized that my pretend schedules never lasted long (sort of like fad diets, yk?) because i tried to fit in all this awesome-hands-on-mom-time without making an actual on-paper schedule for my work/projects/me-time.<br />
<br />
i often felt like i was "stealing" or sneaking this time to get things done because i was. sprinkled into our busy days, the inconsistency produced a lot of unnecessary stress.<br />
<br />
last night my eight year old and i came up with a plan.<br />
<br />
he called it: "gadget-free until three" meaning that we would tend to our homeschooling and housekeeping tasks throughout the day, staying off the electronics, until 3pm, at which point he and his brother could watch TV or play video games and i could work until dinner.<br />
<br />
sounds SO simple but our homeschooling rhythm completely falls apart if they kids start playing minecraft after breakfast or i start checking FB, updating my etsy shop, or making work-related phone calls first, and of course, my teen's work schedule varies and i am driving him to and from work at least three days a week.<br />
<br />
middlest and i were on the same page, though, and came up with a pretty nifty, flexible schedule.<br />
in an effort to maximize our time and positive energy, we came up with a daily rhythm much like the oft-repeated, infrequently implemented ideal schedule but with time for mom built into the equation.<br />
<br />
i even have myself going to bed by midnight at the latest.<br />
this is revolutionary.<br />
<br />
we did have a few bumpy spots after lunch, but it was warm out so we went to the park for an hour and while my middlest was itching to play on the computer when we got home, the littlest was gadget free ALL day. he didn't even ask for the ipad once. AND. and. AND?<br />
<br />
i was able to work for four hours straight!<br />
my kids didn't fight!<br />
<br />
granted, teen and awesome papa were home, but the kids weren't even deferring to either of them to break up conflicts. there just weren't any. littlest only interrupted me a few times and it was toward the end of my scheduled block of time, anyhow.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
after day one my four year old said "this was the best day ever" and even though he says that quite often, it wasn't accompanied by one of the many, daily declarations that it was also the worst day ever.<br />
<br />
i call that a win.<br />
<br />
...now. art and writing to happen, not on the whim of my crazy muse, but on a schedule.<br />
which is no longer a bad word in my book.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-41848598101677160342014-02-20T14:58:00.000-08:002014-03-23T16:40:15.812-07:00on want. or the sh*t + the sh*ne.when i was a kid my grandma used to say, "if you have handful of want and a handful of shit, all you end up with is shit."<br />
<br />
of course my episodic memory is shit, so it's quite possible she never said that even though *i can remember* her face hovering over me as she did, with her palms open, face-up. one grasping at air, the other slinking lower with imaginary weight.<br />
<br />
but what do i know?<br />
<br />
i know the power of writing things down and dreams coming true.<br />
<br />
i know the magic of crying in a broken heap upon the floor at 4 a.m. and wanting to die until the tears have run dry and there's a silent hope in the last, exhausted gasp for air. deflated and too tired to move, you stay there and stare off in awe, until you have to lift your heavy bones in a few hours to get yourself or your kid to school or whatever.<br />
<br />
i know the power of creating our world with our thoughts, whether things feel like coincidence or serendipity, or because we have put the actual blood, sweat, and tears into action, which then result in a sometimes desirable outcome.<br />
<br />
i know that to want meant to never have and to need was to show weakness and i have to be gentle with myself and foster neither excess or deprivation.<br />
<br />
i know that i consider myself a happy person but i wasn't always and it's not without a darn-near constant effort. it sure as hell beats being angry and miserable all the time, which, when you think about it, also takes effort. even if it's easier or more comfortable.<br />
<br />
i also know that i'm still one of the saddest and most sensitive creatures i know.<br />
<br />
sometimes my friends tell me the perfect things and they remind me that when you feel everything with such intensity, all you can do is cry or have a real, visceral need to avoid as much human interaction as possible.<br />
<br />
but what do i want?<br />
<br />
sometimes i think i have everything i want. sometimes i think that wanting is a dangerous catch-22, best reserved for those who have truly mastered the power of magical thinking or the law of attraction. sometimes i don't know how to unblur the lines between want and need and what do any of us really even <i>need</i>?<br />
<br />
i want to care for my mind, body, and spirit a bit more than i ever have.<br />
<br />
i want to do yoga and quit saying i want to do yoga.<br />
<br />
i want to sleep in, without qualifying it as a need and without feeling guilty, regardless.<br />
<br />
i want to listen to my body and not be scared when i forget things or my muscles twitch or i ache upon waking or feel pings and zaps of involuntary nerve activity.<br />
<br />
i want to pick up the breadcrumbs i scattered when i lost myself, to find the way back to myself.<br />
<br />
i want to dress up or dress homeless, to show some skin, or not show anything.<br />
<br />
i want to be peace and breathe; unafraid.<br />
<br />
i want to love, wholly and completely, without reservation or fear.<br />
<br />
i want struggle and bad things not to exist anymore, anywhere, for anyone and by that i mean...<br />
<br />
i want to see the shine through the shit, the gift in the grit.<br />
<br />
i want to sit with open palms, face up, in order to both give and receive. endlessly and without greed. to be a vessel of ongoing, silent transactions, a conduit for change.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhpuGOAribK5zleIoThoZm9amWWuS6oqhWyYF6HUlyibEwE443KPizsfbQ3dg48C40iQOb9QoMEjzl9ZfWWj__nBfTZLyUQ9a0c21qDgcwK6lWAvDRKX_i7-wJUSwRdR5Jx9jjFkVMQs/s1600/palm+open_haumea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhpuGOAribK5zleIoThoZm9amWWuS6oqhWyYF6HUlyibEwE443KPizsfbQ3dg48C40iQOb9QoMEjzl9ZfWWj__nBfTZLyUQ9a0c21qDgcwK6lWAvDRKX_i7-wJUSwRdR5Jx9jjFkVMQs/s1600/palm+open_haumea.jpg" height="400" width="393" /></a></div>
<br />
the tarot tells me what i needed to hear, in this moment, perhaps what i already know.<br />
the wants + needs + knowledge already within, as is the choice in how to meet them; how to meet myself.<br />
<br />
i also pull a card from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1402786999/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1402786999&linkCode=as2&tag=mykidlifecris-20">the mother's wisdom deck</a><img alt="" border="0" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=mykidlifecris-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1402786999" height="1" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />, at random. the power in this small act always floors me.<br />
<br />
haumea. a card i've not drawn before.<br />
<br />
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<i>divine ancestress of the hawaiian people, haumea kindles a mother's nurturing nature. some mothers nurture in fits and starts, others nurture in spades...haumea has nurturing energy to spare. receive her visitation as a direct transmission of this essential mothering superpower...self-care forms the cornerstone of nurturing. we mothers habitually begrudge ourselves the care that we dole out to our families. are you victim to the belief that by giving to yourself, you deprive your children? the opposite reigns true - when we neglect to nurture ourselves, our caregiving withers. haumea urges you to consider how you need tending so that your motherhood may blossom.</i><br />
<br />
and so on.<br />
<br />
mothering and nurturing myself through the right words from a book.<br />
<br />
i fill my cup, through wants and needs and desires and hopes and dreams and wishes and magic.<br />
then i share its contents.<br />
<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-62442388387509719042014-01-22T15:54:00.001-08:002014-01-22T15:58:49.019-08:00i'm going to disneyland and BIG news!in two weeks i will be having lunch with one of my favorite artists + friend, <a href="http://www.timssally.com/">mindy lacefield</a>, the wonderfully sweet, mixed media artist + art journaling expert (+ owner of artspiration studio in mesa, az) <a href="http://tangiebaxter.com/news/">tangie baxter</a>, and a whole bunch of other awesome folks in downtown disney.<br />
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<div>
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>*pinch me*</b></span><br />
<br />
i am so excited and also a little in disbelief that this all came together and i get to do this thing.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
not just lunch. not just disney. a full three days of taking in the full, creative experience of the parks, art journaling meet-ups, a guided tour, a breakfast workshop at rainforest cafe...just. so. excited!</div>
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<div>
it's two weeks away but there may be a couple of spots left and there are some options...even an online version for those that can't make it to anaheim. </div>
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click below for details...</div>
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<a href="http://artjournalingthemagic.com/adventure/"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4GSY0IwTIUG0jw_1O-4vEa-zfsKNrQ-ZdA86ZC4eIqoYbEqHAIVF_qKWi7Lf29vc3X9_CkblxGYpT67KMgD_iTS7512N08Ygv3UfH_cg9T27sf5vxGOnuefjkB1xKT7X7p5JbCWLYoGk/s1600/art+journaling+disneyland.png" height="283" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
now this trip wouldn't have been completely possible without gretchen, another friend of mine that i "met" online through <a href="http://corbynhightower.com/">corbyn hanson hightower</a>, my collaborator and creative partner for the past year and a half. gretchen is taking the workshop, too, and generously offered to let me stay with her and her family at their nearby beach house. i honestly haven't even soaked this all in yet. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
me. on a beach. and in disneyland. without children...well, without my children (gretchen's four year old daughter and i are totally gonna be BFFs). i'm so giddy! a longtime friend of mine keeps reminding me NOT to feel guilty about this, to reclaim some parts of my childhood + just enjoy the experience (love you, katykins!) her words will totally carry me through this trip, because, while my husband and i are planning to take the boys to disneyland next year, i think i just might totally cry in <a href="https://disneyland.disney.go.com/disney-california-adventure/cars-land/?CMP=KNC-DLR_CarsLand_Domestic|G|4142409.DL.AM.01.01&keyword_id=sQig36QYL_dc|cars%20land|33284193623|e|1540glj14037">cars land</a> without them.</div>
<div>
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<div>
<h2>
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">now...as if that weren't exciting enough....drumroll please...</span></h2>
<br />
corbyn and i have so much goodness to unleash, the first of which is our "picture book for adults" that's about to be released on amazon, like. soon. we're in the internal review process and ordering our proofs but here's a sneak peek of the cover!</div>
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squeeee! deets will be spilled here when the book is available, but also, stay abreast of all updates in a much quicker fashion by "liking" my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/ValeriScreamingFromTheGallery">facebook page,</a> if you haven't already ;)</div>
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awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-85137297849340556832013-12-31T14:21:00.005-08:002013-12-31T14:32:39.079-08:00year in review : 2013<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">january </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">this feels so far away, i can't recall a single highlight of last january, so moving on...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">february</span></span><br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">went to las vegas, </span><span style="text-align: center;">had dinner on top of the stratosphere (never again. it made me sick. i have never had to work so hard to keep it together while sober.) </span><span style="text-align: center;">visited my dad who treated my husband and i with tickets to see </span><a href="http://www.cirquedusoleil.com/en/shows/love/default.aspx" style="text-align: center;">the beatles cirque de soleil show</a><span style="text-align: center;"> (he and his wife watched our littles, too. date night = awesome!). my dad also took us to</span><span style="text-align: center;"> hoover dam, we had a nice beer and burger on the way, and once there i nearly had an anxiety attack. heights and water and no.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAr9CJLHb0O_1_0ofIQ2hq0aSlIitdFo__4cbQRlgdyZ55NLTehM7PqVXIYEPGDa8Ryxjje-DHUjL4c17GmAc2jA9De2Vtk93SA3ILfenI9QS5k3qp1tzF94OrClzNAap2s0b_0Q9-AR8/s1600/boulder+brewing+co.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAr9CJLHb0O_1_0ofIQ2hq0aSlIitdFo__4cbQRlgdyZ55NLTehM7PqVXIYEPGDa8Ryxjje-DHUjL4c17GmAc2jA9De2Vtk93SA3ILfenI9QS5k3qp1tzF94OrClzNAap2s0b_0Q9-AR8/s400/boulder+brewing+co.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">at the boulder brewing co., boulder city, nv</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKe1kAR0xUzCffhhNWZZCc-9dEFhSYbdEPWgHvDEvLVQmLIk1klh7EXP-gsx6mPOIGLjv5d7GZ-nMUWWvsDqau76LBIKfyK8WabvVkdw0GsuhwLnvnLW-J-jGzJfeK8KsxCF7-b6qnfY/s1600/lake+mead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFKe1kAR0xUzCffhhNWZZCc-9dEFhSYbdEPWgHvDEvLVQmLIk1klh7EXP-gsx6mPOIGLjv5d7GZ-nMUWWvsDqau76LBIKfyK8WabvVkdw0GsuhwLnvnLW-J-jGzJfeK8KsxCF7-b6qnfY/s400/lake+mead.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lake mead</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQwIIShZ1xxf9WV-7Zb9yVVXujkMudDfVPLhYMAD8TJuWPq4hptc31fpnWJDWc3RdzmQcz2Bs80yiU0MymIYhake_zjDQYI2qir1_y4FLwO6mmaFvYOwM1EsvLaV7e0GhH2DCr5czBn0/s1600/hoover+dam+bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQwIIShZ1xxf9WV-7Zb9yVVXujkMudDfVPLhYMAD8TJuWPq4hptc31fpnWJDWc3RdzmQcz2Bs80yiU0MymIYhake_zjDQYI2qir1_y4FLwO6mmaFvYOwM1EsvLaV7e0GhH2DCr5czBn0/s400/hoover+dam+bridge.jpg" width="395" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bridge over hoover dam.<br />
i could not take photos of the actual dam because all i could do was imagine falling in.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">march</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">for my birthday i took a </span><a href="http://www.circusposterus.com/blog/march-workshops-with-amanda-louise-spayd-and-chris-ryniak/" style="font-family: inherit;">distressing workshop</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> with the beautiful, ultra-sweet + talented <a href="http://mandilouise.blogspot.com/">amanda louise spayd</a>. she and her pal, <a href="http://eatthefuture.blogspot.com/">chris ryniak</a> had a show @ </span><a href="http://strangerfactory.com/" style="font-family: inherit;">stranger factory</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">. if you're not familiar with her work, it's aha-mazing!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxExT87Eg6xNK6wWs09YV0dnxTAxYYULwAILUjxWOOLAamjHNjpIyz3JV5HG357bJ5FIydMwuQQyuJVyGtNAArHs5jYTOmoe4fNWyR9rZVoieX6FSr0OTinWBCd_mTyWhsT9iL6b74jEw/s1600/amanda+louise+spayd+chris+ryniak+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxExT87Eg6xNK6wWs09YV0dnxTAxYYULwAILUjxWOOLAamjHNjpIyz3JV5HG357bJ5FIydMwuQQyuJVyGtNAArHs5jYTOmoe4fNWyR9rZVoieX6FSr0OTinWBCd_mTyWhsT9iL6b74jEw/s400/amanda+louise+spayd+chris+ryniak+.jpg" width="383" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">amanda and chris.<br />
photo-qual is meh because i was still rockin' the iphone 3GS. hee.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6yatKXJzYY8bPEOXmuUneZatA4K1Ych1spqKKhIKfIlE9O42m1HnSa-gi56sjz0crb6W3fqCD1uQOOecomTZZrOnZDU0sHli2KBby7cU2jOQhBaPS8GOuyECik8-zZBLKOqQ47AE0Co/s1600/amanda+spayd+stranger+factory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6yatKXJzYY8bPEOXmuUneZatA4K1Ych1spqKKhIKfIlE9O42m1HnSa-gi56sjz0crb6W3fqCD1uQOOecomTZZrOnZDU0sHli2KBby7cU2jOQhBaPS8GOuyECik8-zZBLKOqQ47AE0Co/s400/amanda+spayd+stranger+factory.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one day i will have a dust bunny original. oh yes, i will.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">april</span> </div>
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baby was sicker than i've ever seen a kid, it was fairly traumatic for both of us. he turned the corner and was well enough to play some wii and have some cake on his birthday. also, solo trip to tucson to see modest mouse, visited some friends in phoenix and went to ikea. w00t! <a href="http://awesomama.blogspot.com/2013/04/this-is-long-drive.html">i reeeealllly didn't want to spend 14+ hours in a car by myself but i did it</a>. and it was worth it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwH4c8QlrhYFuDI43XHKGf_JOVNkTrsUsPzuN64db_pNtnva2Ikdh9_NNECrl5x_XwopgIaP73YAA7wVeI-Pt_9h94YQ2Hietpa2gYQxWfzTHUokOlwJ9I7EcppUeFpqMa5VygZlpXOlc/s1600/wii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwH4c8QlrhYFuDI43XHKGf_JOVNkTrsUsPzuN64db_pNtnva2Ikdh9_NNECrl5x_XwopgIaP73YAA7wVeI-Pt_9h94YQ2Hietpa2gYQxWfzTHUokOlwJ9I7EcppUeFpqMa5VygZlpXOlc/s400/wii.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfoFNvHWLhTX8jgvFClMBzF7hQDxkYnV2atuXNqh9JM8KT_L-rZGjq3EaE44KKvYPZeWEzOjKhiopRc6j9szDiuK2mSYlMde34bASDFbiG98z9y7URumyAs0o31jEf8pAZ-eS0T8Ucvg/s1600/modest+mouse+tote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfoFNvHWLhTX8jgvFClMBzF7hQDxkYnV2atuXNqh9JM8KT_L-rZGjq3EaE44KKvYPZeWEzOjKhiopRc6j9szDiuK2mSYlMde34bASDFbiG98z9y7URumyAs0o31jEf8pAZ-eS0T8Ucvg/s400/modest+mouse+tote.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">may</span><br />
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participated in my first gallery show at <a href="http://metallogallery.com/">metallo gallery</a> in madrid, nm and made some new art/business world connections.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgbRN0nTYhcv6pmDJOv1fvktw8RLwPrbveZcaS6nEl9tsWJAoyqCDcukCWqY9XzutRnpCmfNfF0paVpsvmdVAm9n-MxPTKlGx5D9ARl6X7fQEGVGU1_4wfBrG5VosCeMlyGMDOqljRdk/s1600/metallo+show2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzgbRN0nTYhcv6pmDJOv1fvktw8RLwPrbveZcaS6nEl9tsWJAoyqCDcukCWqY9XzutRnpCmfNfF0paVpsvmdVAm9n-MxPTKlGx5D9ARl6X7fQEGVGU1_4wfBrG5VosCeMlyGMDOqljRdk/s400/metallo+show2.jpg" width="371" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">june</span><br />
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took mini roadtrip with awesome papa to see <a href="http://taos.org/visit/mumford-sons">mumford + sons in taos</a>. the rain and the cold and the amount of people there were all a bit much but it was memorable and fun. on the way home the next day we stopped along the river and then took a surprise detour to tesuque and stopped at <a href="http://www.shidoni.com/html/home.asp">shidoni gallery + foundry</a>. through casual conversation i was invited to submit some artwork for representation but, as of yet, have not completed the body of work i started with shidoni in mind.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTaJHHIH7sGYwn50GD9h1U4-tHxraifg8GsgNgFdiuxb1ptEj-qCGuxwrnyfBjIkrkcP6A0XauKcfR7qhfM-dV6yc9fsNXAvXTsByfArSyBTKRbjT_VgXEqyiHutCO6dTuAs6g3wtHYwE/s1600/taos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTaJHHIH7sGYwn50GD9h1U4-tHxraifg8GsgNgFdiuxb1ptEj-qCGuxwrnyfBjIkrkcP6A0XauKcfR7qhfM-dV6yc9fsNXAvXTsByfArSyBTKRbjT_VgXEqyiHutCO6dTuAs6g3wtHYwE/s400/taos.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">took pics with awesome papa but he doesn't like to show up on the blog.<br />
solo foto di mia.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OsSPuhhEOpuHcovagfvxt2XyL2ZrIv2MQerUj3mwb7aguMcWgD6eOArUZsASrVxV3r1bjPRLCJiv8UOyaHVUwzBG1Fo801spHSIyPBCn69SDwY5toN56ab5DLCWAUb_6vkQ8Sk8I4q4/s1600/taos+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OsSPuhhEOpuHcovagfvxt2XyL2ZrIv2MQerUj3mwb7aguMcWgD6eOArUZsASrVxV3r1bjPRLCJiv8UOyaHVUwzBG1Fo801spHSIyPBCn69SDwY5toN56ab5DLCWAUb_6vkQ8Sk8I4q4/s400/taos+water.jpg" width="396" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">riverside.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAv9hkltLGGjxGwtg_nnjILluyv033aVj7sM-shu5mADt2peukFeYeS4BxsDafAcxPd145ZgFeE5XI6DnofBbr5OynttwnQXQsWGivjX8tZFxXDQVeYB1-GLs383Kt4zOH3sF-8I9tl4/s1600/tesuque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAv9hkltLGGjxGwtg_nnjILluyv033aVj7sM-shu5mADt2peukFeYeS4BxsDafAcxPd145ZgFeE5XI6DnofBbr5OynttwnQXQsWGivjX8tZFxXDQVeYB1-GLs383Kt4zOH3sF-8I9tl4/s400/tesuque.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on the way to shidoni.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1CNR3g8m2lyDbIonDQuPHCYBoqDYhJ8WEsslQ98OrNincjmb_pitZbJukJJ08J4W15KT9heHxiBgi00otrEJvl-CrrAf5Ybevvlzk-VCj3VCeQLgh3YPVJG75Qu-92-i_RY4rJ27K0o/s1600/shidoni+art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1CNR3g8m2lyDbIonDQuPHCYBoqDYhJ8WEsslQ98OrNincjmb_pitZbJukJJ08J4W15KT9heHxiBgi00otrEJvl-CrrAf5Ybevvlzk-VCj3VCeQLgh3YPVJG75Qu-92-i_RY4rJ27K0o/s400/shidoni+art.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">artwork i started (to submit to shidoni) and artwork which no longer looks like this.<br />
i have completely embraced the trusting process while making art,<br />
but i truly think i should have stopped while ahead with this one.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">july</span></span><br />
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had a nasty sinus infection that i finally cleared with a neti pot after finally deciding to stop being afraid of them. teenager moved back in. dad came to visit. this was a super intense time and A LOT was going on. no photos. except this one from the best show ever because i can't think of a neti pot without also thinking of ruth and the infamous "nostril pot"!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0JjloZc4ck3dXEjOggY93Llp-YDIWZNsuhraUQfrIos02YI7mpd3ivMSTjrWB5mZHj1u2NP32i6XoCJe7posaiXoOaPvEXJlk_huRiM77iX73mOsiQrAEnlo-vO3UTKuxNUODOVL61I/s1600/ruth+nostril+pot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0JjloZc4ck3dXEjOggY93Llp-YDIWZNsuhraUQfrIos02YI7mpd3ivMSTjrWB5mZHj1u2NP32i6XoCJe7posaiXoOaPvEXJlk_huRiM77iX73mOsiQrAEnlo-vO3UTKuxNUODOVL61I/s400/ruth+nostril+pot.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">six feet under in case ya didn't know.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">august</span></span><br />
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also super intense. i have an entire blog post dedicated to just three days in august, but it's probably book material more than anything. took my best friend to colorado to live with another friend...super surreal as she and i had traveled the same stretch of road, ten years ago, on our way to aspen. also on labor day weekend. that trip was life-changing as was this year's, though she and i may not understand the gravity of it all for some time to come. what's weird about it, too, is that her friend lives in an itty, bitty town where another friend of mine once lived. they were introduced (we were all mutual friends forever but her friend and my friend hadn't met until they both lived in colorado) BUT on top of that...this is a place i spent some time in as a kid and have always loved. my dad's mother still owns a summer cabin there, and in fact, if i'd been able to stay longer i could have visited with my dad that weekend . the trip really solidified the fact that i want to live in colorado and that i will, someday. also, 6+ hours in a car by myself, on the way back, was like. no big thing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7IZ6ZoqUKZVvvbPx14WkKcjagUUI8_Cn89t-yx52-kf2a6CvAsnkwD9omEdPc4z8KJI0u5Y_I1mSBKB67AJsIQzsCGb8cDFHxFoVoAa6fMZgHjIxz2f63zH9pSxfNcDCEo3tZDPpBIE/s1600/photo+%252831%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7IZ6ZoqUKZVvvbPx14WkKcjagUUI8_Cn89t-yx52-kf2a6CvAsnkwD9omEdPc4z8KJI0u5Y_I1mSBKB67AJsIQzsCGb8cDFHxFoVoAa6fMZgHjIxz2f63zH9pSxfNcDCEo3tZDPpBIE/s400/photo+%252831%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on the way up north....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI17F-ZOpV6q5l4fBEgFroRlLSlhyvy7E4lQOuLh9o7sdr4VppgXn3K-XeAjSoE4JerUQZb6CNniRphX2PINYcsjrNpVk-FBU4JXYHOxTJX028fbaHBMQFjE4x-xhps3wFM4flk7E30lc/s1600/photo+%252830%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI17F-ZOpV6q5l4fBEgFroRlLSlhyvy7E4lQOuLh9o7sdr4VppgXn3K-XeAjSoE4JerUQZb6CNniRphX2PINYcsjrNpVk-FBU4JXYHOxTJX028fbaHBMQFjE4x-xhps3wFM4flk7E30lc/s400/photo+%252830%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">somewhere in colorado. actually operational, too. they were showing smurfs 2.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMmpKyNg8qx4fZF-PpBKglpNXzSJeX0nha1-6IssCyKij7EGYMmLfzA-J2_A4OCvmA54LYV-ehyphenhyphenKVZ7ydqoSV278blw0OEhjewItp8t7mDqVq42kLHXq912WsFK7zOIS5Fd52imtncE4/s1600/photo+%252826%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMmpKyNg8qx4fZF-PpBKglpNXzSJeX0nha1-6IssCyKij7EGYMmLfzA-J2_A4OCvmA54LYV-ehyphenhyphenKVZ7ydqoSV278blw0OEhjewItp8t7mDqVq42kLHXq912WsFK7zOIS5Fd52imtncE4/s400/photo+%252826%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">in the itty town. the only two story people i saw in the only shop we went into.<br />
a sure sign if i ever saw one.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZ1vMftNLKobq0-uWYVFJFaZP2SqV8jS21y4BtfLwHi4Mk3TFoZUsVTDDv4o3PeH_eiBpZhzOAHzBARl5MawrEWUhq0LCpLC8l0UEfd4R_S5oSx8LV3SQ7WOMa1UVdZ_uMEp1MideUNg/s1600/way+home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZ1vMftNLKobq0-uWYVFJFaZP2SqV8jS21y4BtfLwHi4Mk3TFoZUsVTDDv4o3PeH_eiBpZhzOAHzBARl5MawrEWUhq0LCpLC8l0UEfd4R_S5oSx8LV3SQ7WOMa1UVdZ_uMEp1MideUNg/s400/way+home.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on the way home. it rained. i cried. beauty everywhere</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">september</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
i got to spend a day in santa fe with some very special ladies, including, the amazing <a href="http://artoftracyverdugo.blogspot.com/">tracy verdugo</a>! then i took a two-day workshop with her on my old stomping grounds at the university of new mexico. it was indescribably awesome and truly the highlight of this last quarter as so much of what's happened since has been related to the entire experience.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaD4ITmvy_jDge9HME6uH78uGJr7LxvGKzkrX75KM2284RHnv2UTxKCKVmRCdYwbXgdhnisTBm8LOVkhRepnx004xhKvaJHTH0-jL7WEdcsKJu_NHHoZE0_U3g5YWzvtJE94gjJg9M2n4/s1600/tracy+verdugo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaD4ITmvy_jDge9HME6uH78uGJr7LxvGKzkrX75KM2284RHnv2UTxKCKVmRCdYwbXgdhnisTBm8LOVkhRepnx004xhKvaJHTH0-jL7WEdcsKJu_NHHoZE0_U3g5YWzvtJE94gjJg9M2n4/s400/tracy+verdugo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tracy showing us her some of her process.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xyinZhNWVux01aa4s6RssU6dDANmwnGIr8iyMoXHSkXyT_5B3SqyLZc9DC3E9k_FPTE6RUgh6UrjGh8fvtDwjRA23Rahhf1j1H6TnhJmGXEluOssELvVueXOa1kyKDV-I6Fuv6DVkPk/s1600/art+school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xyinZhNWVux01aa4s6RssU6dDANmwnGIr8iyMoXHSkXyT_5B3SqyLZc9DC3E9k_FPTE6RUgh6UrjGh8fvtDwjRA23Rahhf1j1H6TnhJmGXEluOssELvVueXOa1kyKDV-I6Fuv6DVkPk/s400/art+school.jpg" width="391" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hadn't been in art department bathroom since i changed<br />
my minor from art studio to religious studies in 2003.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfLTXU3bZUsVF7JSx_nOgrDgdk9tRYRlfOiKnQBiF-KaD74juJjo29aQHVrtk5gTKdSdp2a_5u3-Inrp4Na2IJYJG39mWumcz73lCBdStjLTTdFPouxmTv89FXke-0OoV5bSFjkE1MdIU/s1600/verdugo+workshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfLTXU3bZUsVF7JSx_nOgrDgdk9tRYRlfOiKnQBiF-KaD74juJjo29aQHVrtk5gTKdSdp2a_5u3-Inrp4Na2IJYJG39mWumcz73lCBdStjLTTdFPouxmTv89FXke-0OoV5bSFjkE1MdIU/s400/verdugo+workshop.jpg" width="387" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my canvas after day one.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXA2q9zjE__G9MzSOy982Ux-ukPZhfz_FVDVP_IF9SuX8QJZG6Lj0e5uFR5BgM_zp4j0RObmkikqoDAJiwlqq8X57_kaxoVrok8tonT7zVh1TlAYndHiJpXIxdBwrzn5yQLcm39izjLq0/s1600/tracy+and+valeri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXA2q9zjE__G9MzSOy982Ux-ukPZhfz_FVDVP_IF9SuX8QJZG6Lj0e5uFR5BgM_zp4j0RObmkikqoDAJiwlqq8X57_kaxoVrok8tonT7zVh1TlAYndHiJpXIxdBwrzn5yQLcm39izjLq0/s400/tracy+and+valeri.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tracy and i (and our canvases) after day two.</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">october</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>sold my first painting at the charming <a href="https://www.facebook.com/newatmeme">meme boutique</a> in ohio, which was one of the networking perks of doing the metallo show in may. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>my biggest commission yet arrived safely in canada. for team <a href="http://bamboletta.com/">bamboletta</a>, known for the super amazing waldorf dolls. and just. wow. the entire process was one of my most amazing experiences in terms of personal and professional growth, so thankful to christina and the lessons i was able to learn (like, maybe don't use new supplies on a big piece without spot-checking first. you know, practical stuff...and also, maybe don't sell yourself short.) i originally underestimated both the time and cost, but christina was a wonderful, patient, kind patron and all the while i kept pinching myself and saying, "i'm creating a painting for a DOLL MAKER to hang in her shop!?!?" because, when i was a kid, i used to bring home doll catalogs from a superfancy doll shop and pretend that i was running my own doll shop. full. circle. amazeballs.</li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQx5edbbAbiIbPumEzgAeVffIOxbK1TTexmWd8L7iiKcjyYEnF-ne_GUHXy1v4Fg_7yyY2Qr0lv-WJyZdtKR3NzHETjgQEyc9O-sUbbQbdwRWtwce6wKAXTKKF0o51sd5Kou4VdTwRBQ/s1600/bamboletta.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQx5edbbAbiIbPumEzgAeVffIOxbK1TTexmWd8L7iiKcjyYEnF-ne_GUHXy1v4Fg_7yyY2Qr0lv-WJyZdtKR3NzHETjgQEyc9O-sUbbQbdwRWtwce6wKAXTKKF0o51sd5Kou4VdTwRBQ/s400/bamboletta.png" width="398" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of bamboletta</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQML4b7k0ET9AptcAj48Fhj3DIwf7JQDV0ccPZe2-M3mLb9XrbFpF_S3lpmkEaOOEtujoVdDKZt0hPHZ63oSqqMI9eidBmT1f4qFFn7L906GplLGdSfmqRwmyVMCJEqGlMrjuY9RZGanw/s1600/bambo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQML4b7k0ET9AptcAj48Fhj3DIwf7JQDV0ccPZe2-M3mLb9XrbFpF_S3lpmkEaOOEtujoVdDKZt0hPHZ63oSqqMI9eidBmT1f4qFFn7L906GplLGdSfmqRwmyVMCJEqGlMrjuY9RZGanw/s400/bambo.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">in it's new home, photo taken by bamboletta<br />
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i also started a few dreads (haven't yet decided if i want a full head of them), <a href="http://awesomama.blogspot.com/2013/11/vision-lost-vision-gained.html">nearly went blind</a> AND sent in my first submission to <a href="http://stampington.com/">stampington + co</a>. like, physically mailed in artwork. has been on my list of things to-do for years but all things in their time.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsK1nLv9qGVHBPUrBt7eI2J2fyzs3DafDr7rZxXY8aIh5SQ8KX3ExqiYqrFGB0EjJ0IY7yEj01h5Zjs0rP7WkGlcjmi2aaY7Bh5UDWu9Qhej4ROH3UZIK088qNI0wMTtEjJ9DyWm86Tdo/s1600/somerset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsK1nLv9qGVHBPUrBt7eI2J2fyzs3DafDr7rZxXY8aIh5SQ8KX3ExqiYqrFGB0EjJ0IY7yEj01h5Zjs0rP7WkGlcjmi2aaY7Bh5UDWu9Qhej4ROH3UZIK088qNI0wMTtEjJ9DyWm86Tdo/s400/somerset.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">november</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>sold my second painting at meme boutique!</li>
<li>started working on my first collab book for real for real. it's been a year+ in the making! woohoo!</li>
<li>awesome papa and i had the epiphany of all epiphanies about moving to colorado AND what to do once we get there (basically the sum total of all of our wishes, desires, triumphs, and failures over the years culminated into the perfect plan and we had a complete "what took us so long?" moment. more later...) </li>
<li>decided, that yes. in the meantime, for real for real, i'm going to teach art. even managed to get two students, ready to start in january (and i need to get on that...no more procrastinating!)</li>
</ul>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">december</span><br />
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<ul>
<li>got moving on the first retreat i will host (and co-teach with some super-highly awesome other artists!). i am seriously excited to spill all the beans about this but details are under wraps until they come together a little more. you are not going to want to miss this, though! it's good stuff with good people!</li>
<li>put together a wonderfully sweet and last-minute commission that arrived JUST IN TIME for christmas (questioned my sanity on this one, but so happy that i was able to stretch my "deadline" wings and i'm smitten with how it came out!) </li>
<li>let the last minute become the very last minute and just accepted it. for the first time, ever, i didn't wrap a single gift until christmas eve and was not as stressed out as i might have been in the past. love these little, obvious signs of growth.</li>
<li>also...as the month came to an end, so did a lot of things come together. proof that what we need is always there, always within, with us. it reveals itself when it needs to. big lessons in trust and seeing the magic. always + forever.</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhALjzR_2ViOlsfCRgUTtQ71TTiYmbXcCtOHL4_PB9f1qAUofuZ29r2rfyDo4M42Yc4t1hl39P161VY2al1J1ucsUpVqWqYLeDYYAl6lhFNcCTkZ0KD3d_Qb6AB9yhZwvpAiNhueGLjEs/s1600/sisters+commission.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhALjzR_2ViOlsfCRgUTtQ71TTiYmbXcCtOHL4_PB9f1qAUofuZ29r2rfyDo4M42Yc4t1hl39P161VY2al1J1ucsUpVqWqYLeDYYAl6lhFNcCTkZ0KD3d_Qb6AB9yhZwvpAiNhueGLjEs/s400/sisters+commission.jpg" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sisters.<br />
last commission of the year.</td></tr>
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whew! 2014 is going to be just as filled with love and full of wonder. there will be books and news, new artwork, travels and teaching. will reveal a bit more soon, along with my word of the year (it still hasn't come to me. i tried to force it, and there will be a theme, but the word is a mystery yet...)<br />
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<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-86190739193963197902013-12-27T16:21:00.000-08:002013-12-29T23:49:15.224-08:00minecraft(ing)a few days before christmas i realized that i hadn't exactly kept the personal promise that my boys would receive something that i'd made for them. i knew they wouldn't even notice and were receiving plenty but we'd also been discussing a "token" system to help provide a bit of structure to our days (more on this later) and when i'd showed them the box i planned on using to store "redeemed" tokens, they were like, "but a minecraft chest would be far cooler."<br />
<br />
yes, yes it would. anything to increase motivation to use such system, once in place...<br />
<br />
they were also getting minecraft figures for christmas and i thought a minecraft chest would be a nice way to store them. i was going to get papier mache boxes but then spied nearly perfect wooden boxes at hobby lobby: a small one for our tokens (approx. 4" x 4") and two larger ones (approx. 6" x 6") for toy storage. score!<br />
<br />
i also picked up a bag of blank tokens (yet to be filled out) and couldn't resist the bag of 3/4" blank blocks.<br />
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then i got to crafting!<br />
<br />
during the process i accepted that i still have no love for this sort of painting (in fact, my favorite part was sanding the boxes...) but decided to make it mine. instead of setting out for perfection, i chose, instead, to approach the task with a rustic, homespun outcome in mind.<br />
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no tape. no straight lines. started with rough outline, used a ruler as a semi-guide, and then gave up the ruler. as i knew i would do at least two coats and correct any glaring misstrokes, the brush sufficed.<br />
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<img height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6iTJWuVfIsFdmPWtFAnBxTH9TQaDsIzHV7ZKWO5f4qRTr3d_0gxSEuMRjM5mB3IurZ23p72VMM-K8gIYl-RfEb1fCcBMuObC1aAScoCwbjKmB3ujfnvHUYsMKjY-zaCBaY5kTNgIP6s/s400/paint+minecraft.jpg" width="395" /></div>
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i had considered going all out and painting different shades of browns for a more accurate, pixelated represenation, but this would do. it might have been that i was tired, that it was the eve of christmas eve, and/or that, really, this sort of crafting gives me hives, but it took more time than i'd imagined. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6HoV-adeLeaL9GUCaY2ZDJAC3zEFb_VXLJ_JUQTDkaisbb2S8fT9A_nhyphenhyphenMGhh3NHf0r_Br2xwLspOOnzIIJwZtH_6ngX-xwWRF6eHrHg70t9oGUkLcmQx6yJo2eeCpz1YdX-aBUOpPw/s1600/minecraft+chests.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6HoV-adeLeaL9GUCaY2ZDJAC3zEFb_VXLJ_JUQTDkaisbb2S8fT9A_nhyphenhyphenMGhh3NHf0r_Br2xwLspOOnzIIJwZtH_6ngX-xwWRF6eHrHg70t9oGUkLcmQx6yJo2eeCpz1YdX-aBUOpPw/s400/minecraft+chests.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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for a minute i even thought of adding detailed, dividing lines on the TNT, but again, simplicity reigned, and i reminded myself that my kids don't even play with blocks (and i wasn't quite sure that these would actually hold any interest, mostly i thought they were a cute addition.)<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqvUPVI81SU4-IlO5tQq0Xbqes04s647UbK7J4Dn_ZaRbHVUV822neBSBhbhBpMHEe_KBZ70CUOWIMpxElDaQmD2eHewZGFh-4mKrXAfYbeq-0Z4AIagtcB91zJpZAlnDVuf8mBvfnTA/s1600/minecraft+chests+and+blocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqvUPVI81SU4-IlO5tQq0Xbqes04s647UbK7J4Dn_ZaRbHVUV822neBSBhbhBpMHEe_KBZ70CUOWIMpxElDaQmD2eHewZGFh-4mKrXAfYbeq-0Z4AIagtcB91zJpZAlnDVuf8mBvfnTA/s400/minecraft+chests+and+blocks.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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turns out they were a huge hit on christmas morning and the boys quickly set about filling their boxes with the blocks, minecraft characters, chocolates, and other small miscellany.</div>
<br />
i didn't make completely good on my promise, either. teen didn't get anything handmade from me but he has a birthday coming up and my fingers are itchin' to knit ;)<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-49747714646048517932013-12-19T11:37:00.001-08:002013-12-19T11:50:01.006-08:0010 years. 10 books.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1cOBARRuNjoitops1jCizTzAQ76dZYxxPXyuKxns3ssJyFjqFFxD1bcBV5uklAR5-j8W62acr7WMze2x3FUUOF5paz2M1AkX9XYvC-RgH4y4PjcnB323u-iEfI8v6tMElEySl80Gv80Y/s1600/best+books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1cOBARRuNjoitops1jCizTzAQ76dZYxxPXyuKxns3ssJyFjqFFxD1bcBV5uklAR5-j8W62acr7WMze2x3FUUOF5paz2M1AkX9XYvC-RgH4y4PjcnB323u-iEfI8v6tMElEySl80Gv80Y/s400/best+books.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">it went like this...</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Rules: don't take too long to think about it. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">15 books you've read that will always stick with you. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">First 15 books that you can recall in no more than 15 minutes."</span></span></div>
<br />
i answered as a comment on someone's FB post and then was tagged a few times but never got around to narrowing down the list to ten once that's what all the cool cats were doing.<br />
<br />
ten books actually required more thought. i can usually name the top five, no problem, and fifteen allowed for some slop, but ten meant i had to be a bit more discerning.<br />
<br />
yesterday i read miss <a href="http://elliedi.com/10-books-i-just-can-not-shake/">ellie</a>'s post and narrowed my list down, afterall. some of these books i refer to often, some i've only read once, but in the last 10 years these are the books that have somehow been woven into the fabric of my existence + here's why:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #134f5c;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0553375407/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0553375407&linkCode=as2&tag=awesomama-20" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ishmael: An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit by Daniel Quinn</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=awesomama-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0553375407" style="border: none !important; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></span></li>
</ul>
because everything i ever felt was wrong with the state of the world (namely, the gap between the "first world" and the rest of the world) is addressed, in such a succinct and profound way that it's difficult to remember this is a "work of fiction." if you've never wondered what's wrong with the state of the world i don't know you, this shit's bothered me since i was four.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0553379011/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0553379011&linkCode=as2&tag=awesomama-20">The Story of B - Daniel Quinn</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=awesomama-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0553379011" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></span></li>
</ul>
because there's more and the history of our culture has been filtered through a stream of self-serving interests like governments and organized religion.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/038549081X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=038549081X&linkCode=as2&tag=mykidlifecris-20">The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=mykidlifecris-20&l=as2&o=1&a=038549081X" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></span></li>
</ul>
because even in 1985, someone was concerned with the amount of plastic grocery bags under the sink and how electronically-controlled monetary systems were easily controlled. and in real life, right now, corporations have more rights in this country than women.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0385721641/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0385721641&linkCode=as2&tag=mykidlifecris-20">Moral Disorder and Other Stories - Margaret Atwood</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=mykidlifecris-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0385721641" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></span></li>
</ul>
because it's atwood's secret, not-so-secret, semi-auto-biography. brilliant in it's subtly, appearing at first to be a series of simple, disorganized stories but no less clever than and subversive than anything else she's ever written. i actually cannot even really describe it but i haven't fallen in love with a book like this, ever. (if i had it, i'd pull a few telling quotes but my copy is with the wife.)<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0385334230/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0385334230&linkCode=as2&tag=awesomama-20">Slapstick or Lonesome No More! - Kurt Vonnegut</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=awesomama-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0385334230" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /> </span></li>
</ul>
because we should brush our teeth with warm water (or at least i have since i read this) and because it was also his sort-of-autobiography and this:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">"love is where you find it. i think it is foolish to go looking for it, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">and i think it can often be poisonous. </span><span style="color: #741b47;">i wish that people who are conventionally </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">supposed to love each other would say to each other, </span><span style="color: #741b47;">when they fight, </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47;">"please - a little less love, and a little more common decency."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
or this:</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">"exhaustion, yes, and deep money worries, too, made her say toward the end </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">that she guessed that she wasn't really very good at life."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
and this:</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">"it was even secret that my paternal grandmother died of cancer. think of that."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
and finally:</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">"this really happened."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
in short. it's a healing book. truth-telling for the truth-seeker, as i flip through it i love the randomness even more than <i>moral disorder</i>. i should probably read it again.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/054797048X/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=054797048X&linkCode=as2&tag=mykidlifecris-20">The Little Prince </a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=mykidlifecris-20&l=as2&o=1&a=054797048X" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></span></li>
</ul>
because what is essential isn't your job, your car, or your addictions and afflictions. if you have kids, you should read it with them. if you don't, you should read it for you.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0316769487/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0316769487&linkCode=as2&tag=awesomama-20">The Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=awesomama-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0316769487" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></span></li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: left;">
because just after i started reading it, swear to hamlet, a wall that i drove past every morning was spray painted with the words: <i>fuck you</i>. if you've read it, you know what i mean. if you haven't, you'll be all "whoa" when you do.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
also this:<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">“among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;"> who was ever </span><span style="color: #741b47; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">confused </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">you're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">you'll learn from them—if you want to. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">just as someday, if you have something to offer, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">someone will learn something from you. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">it's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">and it isn't education. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">it's history. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">it's poetry.”</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #741b47; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009CRP2ZA/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B009CRP2ZA&linkCode=as2&tag=awesomama-20">You Can Heal Your Life - Louise Hay</a></span><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=awesomama-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B009CRP2ZA" style="border: none !important; color: #134f5c; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /></li>
</ul>
because. i mention this book often, i give it to people, i refer to it almost daily. as dystopian as my heart may seem, i am a firm believer that we are world changers. we are the shakers, the movers, the dreamers of dreams, the weavers of stars and story. we are healers - but we can't heal when we're hurting ourselves or others or allowing ourselves to be hurt by others. i've picked up this book many times since i was 21 but it wasn't until two years ago that reading it didn't feel like second nature, but felt like coming home to my own words. i'm not sure if i just finally really resonated with it or if it had a cumulative influence on me over time, but this book isn't just instant cheer, it's the book i can open, at random, to the perfect page in just that moment, it's seen me through all the stages of self-inflicted injury to true, honest healing and inner-reflection.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul>
<li style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&field-keywords=seuss&linkCode=ur2&tag=awesomama-20&url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks" target="_blank">Seuss</a> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">or </span><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&field-keywords=seuss&linkCode=ur2&tag=awesomama-20&url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks" target="_blank">Silverstein</a>.* </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">- anything and all the things by these dudes, </span>because they traversed the depths of the universe and multiple lives in order to share the truth with children, being more receptive than adults of their time. or even our time.</li>
</ul>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKg7yOYUHO83mKEw-6Abd9xfI-GQbTq3u24_DXYqXH7BhrEb3QR12QAVQC7sN8AGThVnBpmyx1pSXvQs23ntx5lH-pMVTSYFHq4kVtjHB6zj3xPSNO75S7QtXXlVcmVm9zSqYMsc_cJw/s1600/seuss86.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKg7yOYUHO83mKEw-6Abd9xfI-GQbTq3u24_DXYqXH7BhrEb3QR12QAVQC7sN8AGThVnBpmyx1pSXvQs23ntx5lH-pMVTSYFHq4kVtjHB6zj3xPSNO75S7QtXXlVcmVm9zSqYMsc_cJw/s640/seuss86.jpg" width="508" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
how about you...10 books that changed you + (if you want to share) why? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
GO!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
*and yeah, the last two are kind of like cheating. but some rules can, <i>and totally should</i>, be broken.</div>
<br /></div>
</div>
awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-56129967611989760002013-12-09T10:29:00.002-08:002013-12-09T11:49:25.445-08:00"spent my whole life in a sea of pain, i don't know what's right, but i know what ain't..."i have twelve blog posts in draft. since september.<br />
<br />
it's the book. wanting to come out, ready to be born or perhaps, actually already being born.<br />
<br />
crowning, at least.<br />
<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<br />
yesterday a dear friend posted a beautiful photo of her seven year old daughter brushing what she called her "tangly weave" and putting clips in her hair. she called it torture, but endured at the joyous hands of daughter.<br />
<br />
i remember the torture that having my hair combed was as a child.<br />
i endured at the hands of my mother.<br />
because i had to.<br />
<br />
and even though i have rationalized this enough, already, today, i am even more grateful that i never had that little girl i always wanted.<br />
<br />
she'd surely have been a hobo chic hot mess like her mama, with long, dirty, tangled locks most days, but she might have also wanted to comb my hair and i wouldn't have been able to just let her.<br />
<br />
further hypothetical proof that i am selfish mother, always reconciling the desire to be a mother with the desire to be an autonomous being, which often looks like not wanting this at all.<br />
<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<br />
i write and paint slowly.<br />
painfully slow.<br />
<br />
i am grateful for the space and the tools but most days, i am unable to find the blissful flow that only comes from being uninterrupted in my thoughts and my work.<br />
<br />
words and images want to come out but there are noses and bums to wipe, clothes to clean or put away, dishes (always dishes), dust, dog, arguments to break up, boo-boos to kiss and make feel better, food to buy, food to make, messes to clean up (always messes), conversations to have, questions to answer...interruption. near-constant. sometimes the volume and excitement of just the two youngest boys prompts my husband to say "it's like living at summer camp, all year long."<br />
<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<br />
"be careful what you ask for..." my grandmother used to warn.<br />
<br />
my grandmother also used to tell me not to have children. she was none too pleased, of course, when i got pregnant at 16 but she held my baby shower and she held my hand as i birthed my son. <br />
<br />
she never knew about the secret pregnancy that i only talk about with secret friends, the one that ended in miscarriage when my son was three and shattered my life more than it maybe should have.<br />
<br />
when i announced my second pregnancy, which was really my third, i was ten years older than the first time and engaged, but there was no way to just <i>share</i> such news with her. it was an ordeal that involved mental and emotional preparation. she celebrates nothing, criticizes everything. i had to work myself up to it and still i was not prepared for her reaction which involved the f-word and her telling me that she just couldn't be happy for me.<br />
<br />
that was the moment that our relationship changed significantly because i couldn't continue to subject myself to such negativity. i waited until i was in my second trimester to tell her the last time i was pregnant and i kind of had little choice because she was attending a choir performance for my oldest son. afterward, we went to a metaphysical bookstore in the area and i worked up the nerve. i figured that while she was holding a pendulum in her hand, in a peaceful, public setting she couldn't lash out. i chose my words carefully.<br />
<br />
"grandma, do you think you could hold that over my wrist and tell me the gender of this baby?"<br />
<br />
of course she already knew, whether my aunts had slipped or she just knew intuitively because we're all connected in that way, but she acted surprised and gave me a hug. she even attended the birth of my third son, and, for a time, she watched my two younger boys while i briefly worked outside of the home. it wasn't long, however, before i knew the toll was too great, the negativity still too strong, and she lashed out at me for the last time.<br />
<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<br />
my grandmother and i do not currently speak. sometimes i feel wracked with guilt about it but then i remember how fragile our boundaries are, steeped in lies and dysfunction.<br />
<br />
i know my grandmother's negativity is a generational dis-ease, the result of lifetimes of fear and pain, abuses handed down, not only through first-hand experiences, <a href="http://discovermagazine.com/2013/may/13-grandmas-experiences-leave-epigenetic-mark-on-your-genes">but through our very DNA</a>. i know because when i operate from the same place, i resent being a mother and it takes effort to be, not the example that was given, but better. healthier. less depressed. dare i say, happy?<br />
<br />
looking back, when she said she couldn't be happy for me, i never expected her to be, though there was still an expectation and subsequent disappoint. and hurt.<br />
<br />
today, i forgive her.<br />
<br />
there's no way she could have possibly been happy for me when she can't seem to be happy, in general, for anyone, ever. not even, and most importantly, herself.<br />
<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<br />
happiness is attainable and sustainable but remains elusive to many. when guilt is the guiding force in someone's life, they may feel, not only incapable of feeling happiness, but also unworthy. my grandmother habitually retells the same sad stories and is always waiting for the other shoe to drop, something bad is just around the bend, was the childhood tale i heard most. this prevents experiencing happiness, as it happens, in the moment.<br />
<br />
happiness is a state of being, perhaps of mind, but in the heart.<br />
it is not unwavering, it is no more permanent than life itself.<br />
it is not a constant state but it is most definitely a constant process.<br />
<br />
it doesn't mean you'll never be depressed ever again.<br />
loss still occurs. grief is natural.<br />
it doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel sad or angry.<br />
shit still happens.<br />
<br />
happiness, though, is non-attachment. without expectations or strings attached. happiness is forgiveness. softness. vulnerabilities, not bared and judged, but bared and comforted.<br />
<br />
i want to hold the space necessary to wrap my arms around my grandmother and i want to cry and tell her that i love her and that i miss her.<br />
<br />
maybe someday i will have the courage and strength that requires. for now, i send my love from afar and refer often to my silent, steady reminder; the post-it on my computer that says: i can't write my story without also telling hers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ROlqeyNzpyQAHp5U92RfIWvxYWlx-jeGpvcAayGFKsP0EUf7Z93hUjjoU-hzrQdtEUSU_868NQNFy-yuGuj3Ll2oSDFZSkwDReZP3MG1AjuVoFUHbKSq-sBg6VxTivtILU2FFhY5DTs/s1600/halloween.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ROlqeyNzpyQAHp5U92RfIWvxYWlx-jeGpvcAayGFKsP0EUf7Z93hUjjoU-hzrQdtEUSU_868NQNFy-yuGuj3Ll2oSDFZSkwDReZP3MG1AjuVoFUHbKSq-sBg6VxTivtILU2FFhY5DTs/s400/halloween.jpg" width="393" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i was looking for a picture of her and i when i was a baby but came upon this polaroid first.<br />
halloween, 1985.<br />
it made me laugh.<br />
my brother and i were punk rockers and not very good ones. <br />
my grandmother didn't let my cousin trick or treat.<br />
that made me sad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
*today's title was brought to you by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-EW-C31J2g">modest mouse : never ending math equation</a> - which is weird because i'd already chosen it before i found that photo. he starts the song by singing, "i'm the same as i was when i was six years old..." in 1985, i was six years old.<br />
<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-59376528865767737012013-12-06T01:42:00.003-08:002013-12-08T11:16:24.099-08:002013 reflection: in contemplation of what we must survive in order to arrive. here. now. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqR9X1YdmRMbcCRYZhhm8x8T2Abi2yWKh3eNW6I25ET6ZeqAIo65U7CLg9uuvsNNKPHm24kk7BQrHIs5EWPTNDLUqOYBhmoo9bNh5qjzJGkA1owOFzCS4H5JOAJaHtshIkEaS6BTRv84/s1600/love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqR9X1YdmRMbcCRYZhhm8x8T2Abi2yWKh3eNW6I25ET6ZeqAIo65U7CLg9uuvsNNKPHm24kk7BQrHIs5EWPTNDLUqOYBhmoo9bNh5qjzJGkA1owOFzCS4H5JOAJaHtshIkEaS6BTRv84/s400/love.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i carry these words<br />
the baggage i have chosen<br />
heavy<br />
in every sense<br />
<br />
lighter though<br />
as i pick through<br />
determining<br />
what is and never was<br />
mine<br />
<br />
i want to say things<br />
to share<br />
all that i have learned<br />
am learning<br />
<br />
but all these words and dozens of years<br />
and thousands of pages<br />
don't<br />
make<br />
sense<br />
<br />
i think of all the shoulds<br />
and could have beens<br />
i berate<br />
judge<br />
criticize<br />
<br />
in the silence i know the truth<br />
the message<br />
everywhere<br />
<br />
forgive for there is no one to blame<br />
no one even to forgive<br />
<br />
the gift is wrapped like pain<br />
<br />
conscious and free<br />
i am not what happened to you<br />
<br />
i'm not even what happened to me<br />
<br />
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<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-17213775113174405042013-11-18T08:34:00.002-08:002013-11-18T09:15:07.444-08:00vision lost. vision gained.the day after halloween, i was diagnosed with <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/iritis/DS01128">iritis</a> in my right eye.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivmMoN8n231F-oU-w9cL-J3P8WqmLghySA16objD9MRe1LvUmpx1sd6vPtLAAPMUoYpSpFLm7MU3PXFAn1OoQHtZWk_EcvY7zKrBxS1niV9z8_ViMZiU-_cLGovmc1gpbJViUq4g2GrpQ/s1600/pirate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivmMoN8n231F-oU-w9cL-J3P8WqmLghySA16objD9MRe1LvUmpx1sd6vPtLAAPMUoYpSpFLm7MU3PXFAn1OoQHtZWk_EcvY7zKrBxS1niV9z8_ViMZiU-_cLGovmc1gpbJViUq4g2GrpQ/s400/pirate.jpg" width="323" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">on halloween: insta-pirate costume wasn't just clever.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
at that point, i'd been in pain for about a week and had been treating my eye with antibiotic drops, as prescribed at urgent care a few days prior. the nurse practitioner misdiagnosed it as pink eye and completely dismissed my concerns (why would we treat it with antibiotics when there's no discharge or proof that it's a bacterial infection? why is it so extremely painful and light-sensitive? why was my right pupil so constricted the night before?) but i was desperate for relief and felt that perhaps i was just making a big deal out of nothing, so i filled my prescription and went on my merry way.<br />
<br />
i was pretty unhappy with the ciprofolxacin drops because i'm kind of weird and find the risk of taking cipro to be greater than the advantage, unless, maybe you have been exposed to anthrax but even then, maybe not - so i called urgent care to request a different prescription on halloween. i picked it up that afternoon and after two doses, everything was much, much worse.<br />
<br />
i decided to stop using the drops and just suffered through the night in the dark because the pain from artificial light was more intense than that from sunlight. i took a bath and even the glow from the candle hurt.<br />
<br />
the next day my husband made me an appointment with an actual eye doctor and took care of the kids so i could sleep. ALL DAY. it was the only way to escape the pain, which at that point, was constant and sharp, whether my eyes were open or closed (and now i know, iritis is so painful because light entering from the unaffected eye causes both pupils to react and omg, any movement of the affected iris is painful. also, when your eye hurts for days, don't go to urgent care. go straight to the optometrist or ophthalmologist.)<br />
<br />
i was, of course, thinking the worst, like perhaps i had a brain-eating amoeba or parasite behind my eyeball (thanks google) but the doctor assured me that it was probably iritis, though she couldn't quite tell because i had a huge "retinal mass" and corneal ulcer, which she said was likely caused by the antibiotic drops. she started me on an aggressive therapy of steroid drops every hour and dilation drops three times a day. several follow-ups were scheduled and i went home with a sense of relief but also a heavy-duty sense of what. the. fuck.<br />
<br />
before i knew what i was dealing with i'd already started to examine the emotional component because i can get a little woo-woo when i'm the only one awake in the middle of the night and it's just what i do when in massive pain that i didn't inflict myself. i'd been repeating the mantra "i must see rightly, it is only with the heart that one can see rightly" (to borrow from the little prince which IS that profound) and on the nights when the pain exceed a 10, i even started tapping. i still think EFT (or <a href="http://www.emofree.com/">emotional freedom technique</a>) is a little silly and i'm not consistent with it, at all, but it alleviates anxiety in the moment and distracted me from the pain a little bit.<br />
<br />
after my appointment, i was sitting with the knowledge that had i kept suffering through the pain, tried to treat it myself, or continued to use the antibiotic drops, i could have lost my sight so i went further into the message, deeper with the questions.<br />
<br />
i couldn't really open my eye for a few days and i was told i couldn't try to read or use the computer for a while, so i looked at it as an opportunity to rest and tend to small tasks that generally get pushed to the bottom of the priority list. i took stock of what treasures i had hidden away, what i needed, and what no longer served me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FuCILPkIF-DxuSFF9Srs67GXweafIfUFKl6AMDUPz2NSZJvjRJaqOgiU-yxAyMJNYWu8o-sxWrcrV4iqx-AqVHgqNjxvzBy8ieVZ7jtUEi5IN1Ovu8eFEm0Uz_JDW9J1f8HgFBqrx5g/s1600/digging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3FuCILPkIF-DxuSFF9Srs67GXweafIfUFKl6AMDUPz2NSZJvjRJaqOgiU-yxAyMJNYWu8o-sxWrcrV4iqx-AqVHgqNjxvzBy8ieVZ7jtUEi5IN1Ovu8eFEm0Uz_JDW9J1f8HgFBqrx5g/s400/digging.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i finally sorted through all my fancy junk.<br />
"junque bags" coming soon...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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about a week after the diagnosis i finally googled iritis and didn't like what i'd found. there were horror stories. there are support groups. this could be serious. it's the third leading cause of blindess in the US and could take forever to heal. it could come back. it's linked to genetic and autoimmune disorders. the reel started running but i'd already seen the eye doc about four times at this point and she assured me that about half the time, there's just no discernible cause and it's very likely my case was the result of horrible allergies + zyrtec drying my eyes out + me rubbing + dust and irritation. determined not to let fear get the best of me, i regained my faith in the holistic approach. very grateful that my eye was responding well to treatment and thankful that my family understood my need to rest, i knew i needed to continue exploring the emotional connection.</div>
<br />
a lot of stuff has come to surface. i've made lots of lots of bad puns about the things that have come to light, insight gained, what i can (or cannot) see, where my focus has been and where it will be, and what has been made visible during this time where i haven't actually been able to see clearly.<br />
<br />
i still talk real good about self-care and nourishment and then it's 1:00pm and all i've had is a cup of yogurt and two cups of coffee. i have a long way to go but i do know that this forced down-time has been a blessing and has imparted some lasting lessons in slowing down.<br />
<br />
in the quiet and the slow, my husband and i had some good, strengthening conversations and what we want to do with our lives, our passions, and our values just came to us one night, then evolved into the most perfectest of plans that we wondered what took us so long. i'm so over-the-moon excited about what the future holds for our family (can't spill the beans yet, of course) and 2014 is going to be all about moving in the direction of our dreams.<br />
<br />
currently, i am down to two drops of prednisone a day and i have another follow-up today. i still can't focus properly and everything at a distance is blurry. i can slightly make out letters, though, which is an improvement. i'm not sure if my vision will be permanently compromised but i do know the lessons from this experience are just beginning to unfold. even if my eyesight is never restored to it's previous state, my true sight is more secure, fully aligned with my soul desires and my purpose.awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-79114373609028056452013-10-07T12:39:00.002-07:002013-11-06T15:05:24.858-08:00"this faith that we fake is a choice"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
i think sometimes it's as easy and as hard as it looks.<br />
as it sounds.<br />
<br />
<i>it is what it is.</i><br />
<br />
in acceptance, in compassion, things gestate. these babies of mine. not the physical boys that make me question everything but the metaphorical babies in my womb, on my lap, and at my breast, forever taking and taking, reminding me of pain and loss.<br />
<br />
<i>forever. </i><br />
it does exist.<br />
<br />
as with anything, though, it's all in the mind.<br />
<br />
i want to heal this heart.<br />
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i <b><u>am</u></b> healing this heart.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVaEYT3bGzWG8AuZoJ2PnbUIA5O0rS2QIMZlclt3nfmvxuTj3h1L-nUbwHSounS7UuZgHPJNX-JqU73_5t4G8-mz5Fc-tbb6tqMHabaq_63J-fu24ZfsoNGfr4xlAyiIVjmeT5ik4EBs/s1600/dusty+window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVaEYT3bGzWG8AuZoJ2PnbUIA5O0rS2QIMZlclt3nfmvxuTj3h1L-nUbwHSounS7UuZgHPJNX-JqU73_5t4G8-mz5Fc-tbb6tqMHabaq_63J-fu24ZfsoNGfr4xlAyiIVjmeT5ik4EBs/s400/dusty+window.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
but i also (as a fan of magical thinking) wish that the pain would just stop.<br />
that the scars would stop busting open in sorrow and overwhelm.<br />
<br />
i've willed it enough. i've faced it enough. i've lived it enough.<br />
<br />
i want to be done and sometimes i feel anger because it's not that simple and than i feel anger for being angry and even in the middle of understanding how unhelpful it is to be angry, i have to feel it.<br />
<br />
no matter how much i wish it just wasn't a thing anymore, part of the healing process is to sit with the pain, in the pain. to be the fucking pain. and the sorrow. and the immense heaviness that follows.<br />
<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
<br />
sometimes i know being this aware and sensitive is a blessing but that doesn't make it easier.<br />
<br />
in fact, it's harder.<br />
<br />
if those two things exist, you know, outside the mind. objectively.<br />
what does that even mean?<br />
<br />
easy and hard are relative. through our experiences emerge patterns and we really are unique little snowflakes on our very own, often lonely paths.<br />
<br />
easy/hard, like good/bad, are supposed to be erased from our vocabulary, anyway.<br />
<br />
so it is what it is.<br />
<br />
a challenge.<br />
<br />
a gift.<br />
<br />
a burden.<br />
<br />
beautiful, nonetheless.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.keepcalmcollection.com/we-are-all-in-the-gutter-but-some-of-us-are-looking-at-the-stars-premium-art-print/"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3vLvXuyJkqqN07GlwziLGrl95bHGMutMj-IC3DxRiXJcAzg0o-sQcp4kSMNJgnrGxOwdGSpbPmYjMag32Ic9sEj0hB1SAwdA4NbPjPIQXe9YGFi6u0VBNN2ftWRcTNH5oADDJ5A6MHY/s400/gutter+stars.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.keepcalmcollection.com/we-are-all-in-the-gutter-but-some-of-us-are-looking-at-the-stars-premium-art-print/">http://www.keepcalmcollection.com/we-are-all-in-the-gutter-but-some-of-us-are-looking-at-the-stars-premium-art-print/</a><a href="http://www.keepcalmcollection.com/we-are-all-in-the-gutter-but-some-of-us-are-looking-at-the-stars-premium-art-print/"><br /></a></td></tr>
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<i><br /></i><i>*back in the day i used to write like this. for me. on livejournal. i used to use song lyrics for post titles, more often than not. i've wanted to illustrate books about lyricgirls and show how sometimes one single line evokes something in an entire other piece of art. but to print the lyrics (even with proper credit given to the musicians, of course) would be copyright infringement. perhaps so is using them as blog post titles but i'm going to do it anyway. just like my lj days, if a title is in quotation marks, it's a quote or lyric. i will always include a link to the artist/song/poem if/when i name a blog post after something that didn't come from my own head. like today.</i><br />
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today's title was brought to you by <a href="http://thelumineers.com/dont-wanna-go/">the lumineers: don't wanna go</a> <3<br />
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awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-30730288721233239722013-09-19T14:04:00.002-07:002013-10-03T14:06:22.751-07:00creative thursday: book review + giveawayi first came across marisa's shop, <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/creativethursday"><b>creative thursday</b></a>, in late 2007 while browsing etsy for woodland-related artwork. i fell in love with her sweet characters and her story: she'd started following her creative path by reserving one day a week to her artful pursuits.<br />
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it's been exciting to watch marisa's growth and expansion over the years and when her book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1440320993/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1440320993&linkCode=as2&tag=awesomama-20"><b>creative thursday: everyday inspiration to grow your creative practice</b></a>,<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=awesomama-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1440320993" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />came out i knew i had to have it!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_sm5VIQxQdCo61WxD6m_MXOgWCx04hyphenhyphenjmIPSM8VA48VxhTBhstZqpoBY2BQw5R21ESY187UAG0gHwXU9pGvq23YzYftaknKjFb5t-ZQwranL7vFd8SZlAvYCNnkzQk-GfDK3mDzGd4CI/s1600/creative+thursday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_sm5VIQxQdCo61WxD6m_MXOgWCx04hyphenhyphenjmIPSM8VA48VxhTBhstZqpoBY2BQw5R21ESY187UAG0gHwXU9pGvq23YzYftaknKjFb5t-ZQwranL7vFd8SZlAvYCNnkzQk-GfDK3mDzGd4CI/s400/creative+thursday.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span><span style="text-align: center;">of course, me being me, it's been a minute. i picked it up almost six months after it came out and i only recently finished it, but let me tell you, it's been my trusty sidekick for three months. i quickly read through it once and then again slowly, savoring every bit. like any favorite book of mine it is now complete with water (or coffee?) stains and my own notes throughout. i knew i'd like it but i had no idea just how perfectly executed it would be.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojkQvXzLDm9frMyY_Sjbo31l1jsoic4Jz2Ivy7tbsMsf7Gnde6tbeHvl34gPEoZqKVWFO5htAOkEUxjw9zg8zPNnlBLBB3bAyT3kooj9yFB3V7ZlOOYqxmGzHCS7fQPp6VXPWWFFkltU/s1600/mine+and+yours.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojkQvXzLDm9frMyY_Sjbo31l1jsoic4Jz2Ivy7tbsMsf7Gnde6tbeHvl34gPEoZqKVWFO5htAOkEUxjw9zg8zPNnlBLBB3bAyT3kooj9yFB3V7ZlOOYqxmGzHCS7fQPp6VXPWWFFkltU/s400/mine+and+yours.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mine has seen some use!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFFGxw7WS0Tp_IlGAnx__pn5MBn0-7VWzzc_02RK2aetCdjuL-j5V6x83UWKuu78qA8PTK0Q8uDJux3qhidhkAdipsj8rdR6BgP8t4Ts7v71c8qW4wVnnC_HrIjfnI1QbyAitbjB0TTU/s1600/water+stain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMFFGxw7WS0Tp_IlGAnx__pn5MBn0-7VWzzc_02RK2aetCdjuL-j5V6x83UWKuu78qA8PTK0Q8uDJux3qhidhkAdipsj8rdR6BgP8t4Ts7v71c8qW4wVnnC_HrIjfnI1QbyAitbjB0TTU/s400/water+stain.jpg" width="398" /></a></div>
<br />
if you're a visual artist, you <b>need</b> this book. no matter where your discipline is or where you are on your journey, marisa's words provide gentle assurance and reminders that our creative voice matters.<br />
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this isn't a huge book but it is JAM-PACKED with inspiration, motivation, and guidance that honors how our creativity is connected to every aspect of our lives. i was delighted to find that every few pages or so marisa would present a concept that was familiar but with the strength of her own voice and experience, it was like seeing it for the first time. and the illustrations! oh. every page has gorgeous, full-color photographs of marisa's artwork or beautiful surroundings. truly a feast for mind + spirit!<br />
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while reading <i>creative thursday</i>, i was also reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0961454733/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0961454733&linkCode=as2&tag=awesomama-20"><b>art + fear</b></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://ir-na.amazon-adsystem.com/e/ir?t=awesomama-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0961454733" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" />and both touched upon the unique challenges that artists face when it comes to managing time and expectations but i will refer to <i>creative thursday </i>much more often as marisa's attention to distraction, resistance, and fear spoke directly to my heart. she really has a way of expressing the importance of pushing through our comfort zones with grace and peace.<br />
<br />
just as i was finishing up the book i already knew it would be my handy guide for years to come and that i was going to read it again, right away, but go deeper. take notes. etc. the pages had already been ruined by a cup of water that one of the boys spilled, i'd already lightly underlined some things, it was already cherished and these thoughts were racing through my head as i get to marisa's final thoughts, in which she shares that her wish is for the book to be with you for years, sit among your most treasured items, and provide just the thing you need to see if you pick it up and open a page, at random.<br />
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it was as though she was reading my mind. her wish came true for me <u>and she has so generously provided me with a signed copy for one lucky reade</u>r (and i bet her wish will come true for you, too!)<br />
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i am so excited to share this beautiful, positively uplifting resource. like i said, i came across marisa on etsy several years ago. shortly thereafter i decided to "make art everyday" because dedicating a single day, or even several hours, once a week seemed so impossible. i turned, what felt like a negative, into a positive by being satisfied if all i managed was a quick napkin doodle some days. i knew that i had to create momentum, everyday, no matter how small and it was in some part due to marisa. my own journey in the last five years, which has been perfect, has also felt arduous and slow, at times. just last month i reached out to a long-time friend, ready to put up my paints forever. the demands of art and motherhood had become too heavy and i was desperate for help. through a beautiful, humbling experience, we came up with a supportive solution better than i could have imagined and i now have five hours a week to dedicate to my creative work (or general self-care, solitude, and silence). and as it turns out, the five hour chunk of time my friend could provide me happened to be on thursdays! seriously, unplanned, but oh, how i love little coincidences (and here's a couple more: marisa and i both go by our first and middle names *and* she printed my very most favorite anais nin quote in the book.) ♥<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrB5pWWB6guhGMmXBJ18ZKML9Y1MUvasosiHNgA_6h6fW01mJwXJ-uhT_0wr0OGUXlQhtejJ1NDiDuOWiqygoo2GRQjVzCEJ1uqdHvfUxeSwqdd65c3YZCmTMHdROxtc5Q2JJklaCXjs/s1600/anais+nin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvrB5pWWB6guhGMmXBJ18ZKML9Y1MUvasosiHNgA_6h6fW01mJwXJ-uhT_0wr0OGUXlQhtejJ1NDiDuOWiqygoo2GRQjVzCEJ1uqdHvfUxeSwqdd65c3YZCmTMHdROxtc5Q2JJklaCXjs/s400/anais+nin.jpg" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no doubt i love anything with the word 'blossom' but this quote is just perfect.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>now for the giveaway...</b></span></span><b style="color: #134f5c; font-size: x-large;">(i love this part!)</b></div>
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<b style="color: #134f5c; font-size: x-large;"><br /></b></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;"><b>how to enter - </b></span><span style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #a64d79;">you may enter up to four times but please leave a new comment for each entry:</span></span></div>
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<b>1. tell me when you first heard of creative thursday (the shop or the book) or how you find your creative time. you may also share some tips on how you best manage your time or what your current obstacles and challenges are.</b><br />
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<b>2. share this blog post on facebook and leave a comment stating so, for another chance to win.</b><br />
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<b>3. <a href="https://twitter.com/valeriblossom">follow me on twitter </a>and then tag me in tweet (@valeriblossom) about this giveaway with a link to this blog. then leave a comment here for an extra chance to win.</b><br />
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<b><span style="color: #a64d79;">4. share this on your blog and leave a comment, linking to your post.</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><b>i will select a winner, at random, next thursday, september 26th, by 5pm EST. good luck!! now i have to get ready for adventure tomorrow in santa fe with </b><a href="http://artoftracyverdugo.blogspot.com/" style="font-weight: bold;"><b>tracy verdugo</b></a><b> and a group of other creative ladies before we take tracy's paint mojo workshop this weekend. squeee!</b><br /><br /><b>eta: this giveaway is open to all US and Canadian residents.</b><br /><br /><b>eta, part two: a winner has been selected. yay!!!</b> and only a week late (eep!). blogging is going to become a bigger priority, it will, and i apologize for my delay. a couple of peeps mentioned they'd shared the giveaway on FB in a single comment so i added an extra entry for them and *drumroll please......*<br /><br /><br />the winner is ....</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhYhSnfxpBxy_BzwOTGWcrAYdo0iBo84GZpD0RnRAljrVK-A7q816KJCv5D02B6YtGRVfQUIg9uWT5dq0DzVDmS9qXwZdZJ9Hd3dIJGN53-R5JHRc0TyRMlqC37lsBWXeT4gtYmG_nUg/s1600/creative+thursday+winner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhYhSnfxpBxy_BzwOTGWcrAYdo0iBo84GZpD0RnRAljrVK-A7q816KJCv5D02B6YtGRVfQUIg9uWT5dq0DzVDmS9qXwZdZJ9Hd3dIJGN53-R5JHRc0TyRMlqC37lsBWXeT4gtYmG_nUg/s1600/creative+thursday+winner.png" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">KAT!!!! ♥ ♥ ♥</span></b> <br />(which is pretty cool because she's not too far from me and maybe we can snag a coffee date!)<br /><br />thanks everyone ;)</span></div>
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<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-11041894975967810052013-08-08T09:56:00.001-07:002013-08-08T09:58:21.581-07:00resolvedays go by, then weeks. <br />
pretty soon it's august. <br />
intense in new ways.<br />
<br />
i had some blog drafts in play for the last week or so but i couldn't finish them and share them here. there is simply no way to explain what's happened in a week. what i've sought and what i've found.<br />
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i know this much: i will never be the same as i walk forth in love and faith. <br />
resolving the unresolved heart.<br />
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it will soon be autumn again which is perfect because winter has not yet left my bones. <br />
<br />
she chills me, keeps me on edge, whispers: loss isn't just for cold months.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPK_4ZOX-yu8rppSWzunX0CDLu9ZH99k7mSpn9fMSuwdCW4GzlUnHUXOhCXglM5vK1p0ui2KcrJ6A2GljY5aX28aSVmoaeDb_etYdAo5jyOc3O1HE6TMs7FYXJlFjaEGboUaQkQZYBsQE/s1600/i+wear+long+skirts+all+summer+long.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPK_4ZOX-yu8rppSWzunX0CDLu9ZH99k7mSpn9fMSuwdCW4GzlUnHUXOhCXglM5vK1p0ui2KcrJ6A2GljY5aX28aSVmoaeDb_etYdAo5jyOc3O1HE6TMs7FYXJlFjaEGboUaQkQZYBsQE/s400/i+wear+long+skirts+all+summer+long.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i wear long skirts all summer long</td></tr>
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two weeks ago my dad's wife lost her sister to cancer.<br />
last week a sweet friend lost her grandmother to cancer.<br />
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i say lost because i don't know what else to say, though it suggests the hopeful assumption of finding them again someday.<br />
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i don't like the final and absolute terms we often use for death because once you've known someone, in ways, they are never apart from you. always a part of you. it's true that you can never find them again but they're not lost, as if misplaced. they're just not here.<br />
<br />
i wait for news.<br />
<br />
i read early atwood, even though it's a chore, because it is necessary. her newer stuff is so easily absorbed, it's as though i wrote it myself, but her first two books are laborious. even the handmaid's tale has to be taken in slowly, sometimes in two-word sentences because those two words say it all.<br />
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it's been raining here for about a month, bringing new meaning to flash flood warnings that had become a joke after so many years of dry, barren arroyos. the rain, extreme and record-breaking, brings with it a chill to the air, even in the afternoon.<br />
<br />
i am reminded. the summer can be cold, too.<br />
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awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-61189365528202486422013-07-20T14:14:00.002-07:002013-08-01T10:47:57.272-07:00moving. expanding. growth. (yes, it's all so deep.)i did it. rather, i'm doing it.<br />
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switching around etsy shop stuff, starting fresh. <br />
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sorta.*<br />
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slightlyimperfect will remain open and stocked until the gradual switchover. gradual being the operative word, here. thereafter it will be reserved for vintage and vintage-esque stuffs. supplies, too, maybe.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/slightlyimperfect" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="51" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaicc7U7zcSbn8LLyPGnsDS115qfPn9gKARIHew2I0j416iL3wa2f5lggLZLCrZNohhyphenhyphenLylLgQOH7FeECl0IaLbf5eNGuQHbGtm4p4rM5FXGwQlDbSHuuSRRrJx60IuI0t6mdclvBzdiA/s400/simp.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
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art stuff will move over here. all of it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/valeriblossom" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="52" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbkLRlKMaRclK5rW2yHDuloI6CP1NnLFxwSFuxaaOZ0yijMGjvSxF1RgJxcLrdW6-T5uVzV6L3y545kunJKew316kPqdtDNUCpFT8ujSliyRt7yuDtHFjdAzhahB9T5wnrmh_4cBn6iXQ/s400/vb+first+logo.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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*i began to create an etsy account with my name: valeriblossom only to discover i had already created one back in 2009! i guess i planned to reserve it for some future use but four years!?! i'd created it before i even opened slightlyimperfect. <em>how strange</em>.awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-35160442976872994032013-07-10T23:49:00.002-07:002013-07-11T10:46:35.271-07:00revisting the past. adjusting the path.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><h3>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4PFPogRIRjPvb8PTmsjoBM_JRQVtMVXy5Kqb6lN33JzYpMPEw8I1w4AZygjTTVWEh915Kf10J_Vf2B9NVGglcqXkrLScfJlsmbhXEY-wweOeRmpkFUaNw6lk-y7q3JS_on2uWv87Xn78/s1600/wa;lk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4PFPogRIRjPvb8PTmsjoBM_JRQVtMVXy5Kqb6lN33JzYpMPEw8I1w4AZygjTTVWEh915Kf10J_Vf2B9NVGglcqXkrLScfJlsmbhXEY-wweOeRmpkFUaNw6lk-y7q3JS_on2uWv87Xn78/s400/wa;lk.JPG" width="400" /></a></h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sometimes i want to be a wee sprite and live in a hollow, in case you didn't know.</td></tr>
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<h4>
mercury retrograde in full force, all up in here.</h4>
more of the same, plenty of communication breakdowns.<br />
examining. exploring. uncovering. discovering.<br />
repeating, resurfacing, coming around.<br />
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there was the whirlwind rush of my oldest son moving back in, the littles got a horrific cold that settled in their sinuses and ears, then i got it and none of us are 100% yet, and last week my dad made a last-minute visit.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ojPdwYFJT3xvUHxmeEpbmabJwCS4hz0FiwaITA-IUA94ygIMJ1Mz_rkkAyajy1NrZIUsOoZFfJ5yVXYmCga9u3GIBNmKwSwz-5LzjreV891cMc6jOm0GASbiaoaM05WNMUXNdaHpS9M/s1600/walk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ojPdwYFJT3xvUHxmeEpbmabJwCS4hz0FiwaITA-IUA94ygIMJ1Mz_rkkAyajy1NrZIUsOoZFfJ5yVXYmCga9u3GIBNmKwSwz-5LzjreV891cMc6jOm0GASbiaoaM05WNMUXNdaHpS9M/s400/walk.JPG" width="392" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my boys + my dad</td></tr>
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<br />
not gonna lie. the last two weeks have been rough. instead of immediately looking at where i could improve, i found myself facing the painful truth that i could kind of see where my grandmother was coming from when she begrudged having children. though i don't begrudge mine, i was feeling lost and stuck and had put some serious consideration into whether or not i'd have done things different, if given the chance...<br />
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it's not my favorite road to go down but i was trying to escape the here and now, maybe wishing i could change the past, rebelling against the demands and challenges i didn't know how to meet.<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><br />
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i'm also doing <strong>a lot</strong> of inner work (while also trying to do outer work like maybe putting that laundry away) so every little thing feels immense right now. it felt like i'd been digging deep but had to go even deeper and i didn't want to. i wanted to escape the immensity.<br />
<br />
just at the right moment, jessica brogan, wrote a truly open and honest blog post <a href="http://www.insearchofdessert.com/?p=9745">about the expectations on and demand for our time and attention as mothers</a>. she pretty much described my experience of being a highly sensitive introvert with high-energy, non-stop, talkative, bright, inquisitive children. i momentarily fantasized about putting my kids in school and could completely relate to how hard it is to keep little boys entertained and not feel like i'm neglecting them. oh and #7. totally feeling that one.<br />
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putting my younger two children in school could potentially solve a lot of my daily gripes (my art still sits, sadly, on the backburner most of the time) but her post motivated me to reaffirm the need for time to myself, while also remaining true to my core (i have always intended to homeschool). <br />
<br />
<a href="http://awesomama.blogspot.com/2012/08/increasing-manageable.html">remember when i thought running errands alone would help replenish my cup</a>? it has but omg, how did i write that almost a year ago? it's only become much more consistent much more recently and it's a start. i'd really like to sleep in (and not just when i'm sick) and maybe get a massage and see my chiropracter, neither of which i've done since i was pregnant with sprout. five years ago. too long. <em>that</em> type of self-care would be truly replenishing.<br />
<br />
yesterday morning, out of nowhere, i felt the urge to look at some stuff i'd written about being a hypocrite. i didn't know what i was looking for but i knew i had started several drafts on the topic and <a href="http://awesomama.blogspot.com/2012/10/journeying-to-myself.html">it turned into this post, late october 2012</a> but i also came across this which i'd started to write at the beginning of october:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>...</strong> </div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">i don't get paid for the most important work that i do.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">when i got pregnant with my first child, at sixteen, i was already aware of how much easier life is when a child has two parents, presumably making enough ends meet so that one could stay home. teaching the child(ren), learning from them, existing with them, instilling values and skills.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">that was the one thing i wished i could have given him most. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">a home. stable and healthy. warm. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;">i also truly believed that a happy single-parent household was better than living with two unhappy parents and there was no way a relationship between his father and i could have worked.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">not to replay the same tape but for impact: he'd slept with several other girls while i was pregnant and when discussing our future (he was 18) he said that college might be okay for me but he wasn't really the type to have goals and i was like get the fuck out of my house, except i didn't really say that.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">maybe i was too judgmental or maybe i was doing my son and i a favor. it wasn't the emphasis on going to college, itself, but passion and excitement and the motivation to learn and grow is a must and, put simply, i couldn't be with anyone who didn't possess those things.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">i was a good mom, but selfish, too and not simply because i was young so much as i was still in that phase of life where i relied on external validation entirely too much and devoted more time and energy to people that existed outside of my household. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">bottom line: i should have put my child first.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">not in that selfless and resentful way but in that "in service to others" way.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">these are the things that matter most, the things i want to show my children: patience. acts of giving. kindness. love.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">this week hypocrisy, my biggest and longest standing pet peeve, has been camping out.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">showing me stuff, reminding me of things. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">if our we are reflections of one another, each experience mirroring something back, and i really believe this, then it's time for me to examine all my hypocritical ways.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">tonight i start with one example: my three year old is in uber-clingy phase. meaning more than usual for his cuddly self. he wants me to hold him all the time and it doesn't help that he's been sick for a few days. one night i told him i had to do just one thing to do before i could sit down and hold him. he touched my face, gently putting his little hand on my cheek, looked me in the eye and said, "you do need just one thing. hode me."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">i thought, of course. in this moment that's all i need to do.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">when i was a young, single mom, i wanted to be married and ease into a life where i could mother and mother well.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">i wanted to be able to stay home and homeschool and now i can. it doesn't mean that sometimes when my three year old wants me to hold him i would rather do anything but hold him. it always feels like i have 1500 other things i could be doing, but in an effort to be less hypocritical, if i'm doing anything that could wait - then i will hold my son when he asks. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">the other times? when i'm spread too thin or tired? when my hips are in pain and i can't bend down? if i'm in the middle of cleaning or cooking or doing a project with the six year old? he will have to wait. patience is a two-way street, a virtue, a learned trait.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">i cannot expect my children to be patient if i am not also patient.</span> </div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">i reject the old paradigm that says i'm spoiling my children. i reject people that choose to call them brats. i reject suggestions that we'd benefit from the super nanny or a swat across the bum or a time out - or anything that creates a sense of isolation and failure for either of us. </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><em>(this was in direct response to suggestions people had actually given me at the time.)</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">i want my children to know they are worthy of having their needs met. i want my children to know love before fear, communication before discipline, peace instead of punishment.</span> </div>
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<strong>...</strong></div>
<br />
it ended there. the answer within, the reminder and the wisdom to push through the guilt and the feelings of not doing enough. when motherhood starts to look like martyrdom i freak out but i know it's all within my ability to see a different perspective, to be the change in every moment.<br />
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that afternoon i was getting ready to leave and as has been the case lately, sprout started crying and repeatedly asking if he could come with me. i wanted him to stop. i wanted to flee. i recalled my own words. <br />
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i want to be of service, available to my children. patient.<em> </em><br />
<em>i will hold my son when he asks.</em><br />
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i sat down at his level and he climbed into my lap and said "i want to go with you because i can't never be away from you because i love you so much." he had me by the heartstrings, that was the sweetest thing i'd ever heard. i had really been looking forward to the drive and listening to my music, without interruption, but i almost told him to go get dressed. then. my own words again: <i>i cannot expect my children to patient if i am not also patient.</i><br />
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the guilt and inner-conflict dissolved.<br />
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i could be patient without giving in and use this opportunity to create healthy boundaries. i explained that just as he sometimes enjoys playing alone, i also need time alone and the only way i can have that time is in the car, by myself. he quieted down but was still taking in air as if he was sobbing. i told him that i also loved him very much and didn't like to be away from him, either, but sometimes i had to spend some time by myself in order to be a more patient mama. as if by miracle, my patience in the moment was returned. he calmly gave me another hug, said goodbye, and happily agreed to hang out with his brothers.<br />
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balance. learning. ongoing.<br />
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<h4>
there's still time to change the road you're on...</h4>
if i'm honest, of course there are things i would have done differently but i'm not living in regret and am perfectly in love with where i'm at right now. it was uncomfortable but by examining what i would have <i>done differently</i> i was able to see what i can <em>do </em><i>currently</i>.<br />
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having dedicated, devoted time for my children and for my art are my two biggest priorities and they often seem at odds with one another. there have been times when i've considered giving up but i'm here. now. choosing, instead, to show up.<br />
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hiring a mother's helper or starting a childcare co-op with likeminded homeschoolers might be possible but i'm exploring all creative solutions. i'm even considering the half-day school/homeschool option again for pea, who is about to enter second grade, though only having two of the three in school isn't a miracle solution and having kids in school definitely comes with its own set of demands.<br />
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i know many of us, regardless of how we want to how we seek our "me-time" seem to have similar stressors and stresses but i'd love to hear from you!<br />
<br />
do you have any advice for the tired, schedule-averse creative mama? are you working from home or pursuing your own interests with small children or school-aged children at home all day? are your children in school and are you able to divide your time so that you're completely available to them when they're home? ideally, i think i can create a harmonious schedule where studio time and homeschooling time are clearly carved out, where i can still grocery shop alone to recharge, and maybe get to bed before 3am when the muse is calling. <br />
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p.s. today, i picked up my <a href="http://www.freewillastrology.com/">freewill astrology</a> horoscope.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK54oJpZyVH-uHeVFE-at6JgokxnU3RkTk8gjJKc7XE0cUILIJM6j5PbY9GVwk0Tznqt8_Om4fbvfHyIQ3lU3CtEP3_XlS6H3l-nt-gE-AfAXrE5FDIVUPB7SHj6iJLJ_q7GSctZDckIw/s400/freewill+astrology.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">another reminder. okay, universe, it's on!</td></tr>
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holy smokes, batman! i've been talking about how to best refill my cup (i.e., replenishing the energy reserves) and still don't have it all figured out (like how, how is it supposed to happen?) but it has to happen. plan creation in effect! </div>
<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3632655288073740255.post-50205366865058030082013-06-28T12:05:00.004-07:002013-06-28T13:18:24.886-07:00the current state of things.i started writing the following earlier this week:<br />
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<em>i've been thinking of changing the name of this blog, </em></div>
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<em>probably since i started it. </em></div>
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<em>it was cute but it was never true.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>i'm not an awesome mama.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>i've told this story before </em><em>but some of you don't know it and today i find that i want to tell it again.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>maybe this time it will be different.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>i'm flawed. i'm tired. i tried to be an "attachment parent" to my oldest son (now 17.5) before i knew there was such a term and a "right" way to do it. when he was in kindergarten i left my corporate american job. a lot of depression and seven months later i found another job and worked there for about nine months until, one day, i was on my way to work, </em></div>
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<em>hoping to get into a head-on collision.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>i turned around and drove to my mom's, where i had just dropped off my son, when i couldn't decide if i was really hoping it would happen </em></div>
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<em>or about to make it happen.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>the following semester, i returned to school to get another degree. this time, i thought, i was following my dream and doing what i'd always wanted to do. getting a degree in psychology. i was ready to be a therapist.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>during this time i painted a lot. i smoked a lot of pot (because prozac made me even more suicidal). it was the light at the end of a very long tunnel.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>in my childhood development class it was suddenly, ironically clear that my son had an attachment disorder (though it was several more years until it was diagnosed ) and</em><em> it was clearly my fault since his father was as absent as an absent father could be.</em></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em></em><br /></div>
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<em>since he moved back in with my mom last year, i've begun to dismantle all the guilt, blame, and shame.</em></div>
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<em>i've been a slightly better, more attached parent to my younger two.</em></div>
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that's where i stopped because i was having to face the reality that my son had nowhere to go, having finally burned the bridge between him and my mother's home after bouncing around for the past month. i really didn't know how to open my heart and my home up to him again and i must say here...he's not a bad kid. he's never been in trouble with the law and he's got a pretty good head on his shoulders, if not for some misplaced priorities. some would say he's just a typical teenager but if you were to read up on oppositional defiance disorder it would sound familiar to me on some levels. i don't think he meets all the criteria for a diagnosis but there was a time when it described him to a T and i lacked the coping skills to give it my all, day in and day out. i'd stopped writing because i didn't know what i was really trying to say and he'd arranged to move in with his father (again) who had made an effort to have a relationship with my son over the last year.<br />
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now none of that even matters.<br />
now we're here and the story is different. <br />
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what transpired in my oldest son's life the other night has me shaken to the core. sad in the heart on a level i've never previously known. some irrevocable damage has been done because of poor choices that were made by my son, his bestfriend, and my son's biological father and many lives are now forever changed and the end result is that living with his father, or even having a relationship with him, is no longer an option.<br />
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i had to pull myself together yesterday and found that it was easier to operate from a place of compassion than ever before. as the day went on and the truth sank in and i processed the events as they were told to me, it became clear that my son would be returning to my home.<br />
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last night my son told me that even though some really bad stuff happened, coming home was the good that came out of it. it broke my heart to pieces that bad stuff even had to happen or that it ever happens. it made me look back on all the stupid decisions i made as a teenager and i see how my son has made it this far, largely unscathed and without the same types of trouble i found myself in. <br />
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it wasn't really the lesson i felt i needed at the moment, since i'd already been feeling gratitude for all thing and i was sort of pissed that the universe had to make its move in such a profound and shocking way but my son is home and i'm grateful. i'm also lost and i have no idea what the future holds but instead of being fearful as i face the unknown, i'm choosing to be hopeful.<br />
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since recovering this long-stashed away card i've referred to the emerson quote often and when sketching out the girl and the balloons on this recent piece, i wrote it down on the canvas (then painted over it). today brings me here, re-reading the quote. it almost makes light of everything that fell apart in order for things to fall together but now, more than ever, the message is to let go and in turn; trust.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPlYXGZCwSJJ4iwk4nZ0ueOyui89quDV5OO5fSDDVXdfTb_8I_iYa_iAi7TlzK3RyujTyKU_xYQCrY5KPURXG2mkqlq9WglHRDKCdOnVH_Do2FMkUyd0lyn9MyVVb26ZkkwQO0KlWy8k/s569/emerson+quote.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPlYXGZCwSJJ4iwk4nZ0ueOyui89quDV5OO5fSDDVXdfTb_8I_iYa_iAi7TlzK3RyujTyKU_xYQCrY5KPURXG2mkqlq9WglHRDKCdOnVH_Do2FMkUyd0lyn9MyVVb26ZkkwQO0KlWy8k/s400/emerson+quote.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">finally found all the courage to let it all go</td></tr>
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<br />awesomamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16470214002963712590noreply@blogger.com2