Soulmates

Marriage is no cake walk.

I have been married for fourteen years...and counting.

It is a challenge to bring two lives together under one roof and try to make it work.

Is love enough?

 Good lord not in my book!

Love is just a piece of the puzzle.  There are things like compromise, sacrifice, listening, communicating, forgiving, give and take, trust, equality, respect, commitment...I could go on and on about what it takes to make a marriage work.  And mind you I certainly don't have all the answers or even any of them.  I just stumble along like the rest of you, thinking to myself all the time...how in the hell did I get here?  Who are these people, what are they doing here, and why are they eating all my food, while yelling and making all this dirty laundry?

 I really think that in a relationship, including marriage, so much of how we feel about it is how we feel about ourselves.  At least that is how it works for me.  When my marriage has gone through (cough, cough) rough spots, I had to take a good long look at myself before I could even begin to  communicate in a positive way with the old ball and chain.  I communicate in a negative way with ease.  It is the positive stuff  I struggle with.

Oh...and want to know how to put more pressure on your relationship with your spouse?  Have kids.  I have two of them.  Keep in mind I did things a bit backwards...I had a baby with some guy, got pregnant again with the same dude, and then married him.

 But for some crazy reason, it worked.  And it is still working.  In spite of all the things that the universe has thrown at us.  It isn't perfect...not by any stretch of the imagination.  I am sure we could benifit from a session with Dr. Phil.

Marcus and I couldn't be more different.  We came for two very different backgrounds, with two very differnet upbringings.  But I like him,  not all the time, especially when the house is messy,  but that isn't always his fault.  I enjoy him, not when he pisses me off, but all the other times. I really do, I like him.  We are friends.  We laugh all the time. And we yell all the time.  It's like what I would imagine an old world italian home would be like.

Marcus is strong in all the places I am not.  He is understanding of all my short comings.  He thinks I am funny.  He thinks I am talented.  I think he is good at math.  I think he is logical when I am overwhelmed and flighty.  He builds stuff with a hammer.  He loves the kids.  He is unconditionally supportive of all my endeavors,  but tells me when he thinks I'm acting crazy.  He is good in medical emergencies.  He likes my cooking.  He thinks I'm pretty.  And he never says that I look fat, no matter what I am wearing.

I am sure he has a list of grievances about me, and I keep mine in my back pocket all the times for quick reference.

But we are really good friends, we didn't have long to be friends before the babies started rolling out, but we  honestly enjoy each other as human beings.  Not just partners, parents, or friends, but as human beings.

Oh...and he keeps paying the bills.

 I don't know if I have a soulmate,  but if I do and it isn't Marcus, I don't want to know.  And if I do and he is it, I have done at least on thing right in my life.

What brought this all on?

 I found these.  They are the epitome of what we brought into this partnership.
And how we handle it all.

Celebrate your unions, good, bad...they help make us who we are.

So...here's to partnership!

And heres to all people being able celebrate their partnership however they wish!

Oh...and I am still sharing myself with you all, so here you go:

Oprah might be on to something...

A few months back Marcus got a magazine deal where he got Sports Illustrated ("For the sports!" Right!) and Photography Magazine, and out of his great generosity he got me a subscription to Oprah's magazine O.

 O doesn't do it for me,  there aren't any good recipes, and it isn't visually appealing.  I like pretty things, things that make me go "Ohhhh!" and "Ahhhh!  But I have a year subscription.  So I read an article here and there.  Sometimes they are good, most of the time just so, so.

In my current issue, I read an ariticle about vision boards.  "The Vision Thing" by Martha Beck.  It caught my attention because, like I said visual things are my bag, I love a good of collage, it had a pretty picture, and well...it caught my interest.

The sum of the article, which I found profoundly interesting and helpful, was that human beings create their own destiny,  to a certain extent.  This is what I found most interesting and helpful. And that vision boards can help you along the way.  Now...don't be scared off, stay with me.  I know, it's new age, it's far out, it's so 80's...it's like, "Wheres my crystal pendulum and my sage stick?"  But stay with me...

What the article goes on to say is that it isn't really the vision board itself that creates your future, it is you taking the energy and effort and focusing it into one moment.  In that moment you are creating a catalyst for change in your life, in the world.  Now this is so "The Secret" or "What the Bleep do we know" or "Weekend at Bernie's"...wait, that might have a different message, I will have to check on that.

Now what you put on the vision board is of course of a very personal nature.  But what the author of the article  says is that it isn't the picture of a hummer, or visions of 24 ct. dog tags, Kim Kardashian's butt, or a mansion that are going to get you to where you want to go.  Because those things are what society tells us we want.  But is that what we really want?  Does our primordial self desire a diamond studded collar for fido?  I don't think so.

What we really want is something much deeper, more profound, primordial.  Not cave man, primordial. But closer to heavens, primordial.  Or maybe not, maybe I really do want Kim Kardashian's butt, and a 4 ct. diamond nose ring.  I will let you know when I am done with my vision board.

In the conclusion of the article the author advises making a board, a page,  of things that speak to you, things that make you go "Ohhh!" and "Ahhh!".  And then recycle it, toss it, torch it.  Let it go.  Let go of the ideas and see what comes back to you.

Maybe the vision board thing isn't your bag, maybe you are less crystal pendulum and more about things like facts and stuff.  Whatever does it for you...

But couldn't we all use more time just being in the moment?   More time to focus on the "Ohhh!"'s and the "Ahh!"'s?  More time focusing on what we want than on what we don't want?  Smelling the roses and the like?

So, find some things that make you go "Ohhh!" and "Ahhh!".  Things that push your buttons in  a good way.  Maybe you don't have to do a vision board at all, just find something that moves you, speaks to you.  Love it for a few moments, devote your attention to it, be present with it.  Then move on.  Move on the next things that takes your breath away.

It has been a long time since I made anything that resembled a vision board, and I think the last time there was a picture of the Like a Virgin Madonna and Corey Haim, may he rest in peace.  I might shake things up a bit this time.  Maybe not.

Because this does it for me, gives me the "Ohhh!"'s and the "Ahhh!"'s:




And because I am still putting myself out there.

Liquid Death

I have a love hate relationship with coffee. I love it, it hates me.  Don't get me wrong, it loves me for the first couple of hours, then it helps me to channel Joan Crawford in the afternoons.  I love the taste, the smell, the expierience of it.  I love the froth.  I love the steam.  I love the warmth. I love the creamy sugariness.  I love the cardboard cups with the plastic lids that are almost single handedly destroying the environment.  I love good coffee.  The kind of coffee made by real baristas who make lovely designs with the froth.



I don't love coffee made by baristas who just got done writing their Animal Farm book report and are now making my coffee.   I don't love that bitter metallic taste in my mouth after I have had 2-3 coffees and no food.  No food because, I have no appetite.  That in it self is almost sacrilege.   I don't love that jittery sweaty feel I get when I get a coffee that is too strong.  I don't like that as I have gotten older, sometimes milk doesn't sit so well in my tummy.  Mix all that with sugar...I am Mommy Dearest by noon.

So I drink Earl Gray Tea these days, just like a crusty old lady.  Add a little honey and lemon, and I am in heaven.  I still get the energy, the warmth, the sweetness, but no jitters.   Unless I drink 5 cups...thats the limit.  Trust me.

I miss my coffee though, and I still indulge now and again.  And I love it even more because I only have it sometimes.  Even that's a little dangerous for me however. I am not known for moderation.  In fact, one might say that is the quality that I grapple with the most.  Like I have stated earlier in my blog, once I get started with something I am consumed.  Earlier in the week I made meatloaf, it was so good I was going to make another one the next night.  My husband stopped me.

So all things in moderation right?  What the hell kind of fun is that?

I would love to say that the work I do is spurred on by pure inspiration and creativey and a burning desire to have and keep a wonderful, beautiful, clean home.  But dang it all if I don't need some help some times.  Sometimes I need Mothers Little Helper, caffeine.  Sometimes I need it in spite of the inspiration, the creativity and the clean home thing.

If only I could know my own limits.  Again though, what the hell kind of fun would that be?

So I am working today, cold turkey. I'm out of my beloved Earl Gray, and unwilling to put myself through the emotional turmoil that my husband Marcus' brewed espresso puts me through.  He drinks his black, no sugar, no milk, just three straight shots.  I call it liquid death.  "Liquid Death this morning honey?" Good thing he has a sense of humor.  He could never have survived me this long without one.

So think of me this morning as you drink your liquid death, and then have another in honor of my loss.

Here's to hoping my work today doesn't end up looking like this...

And aiming for something more like this.

ArtWalk Friday June 4th 2010

Friday June 4th 2010 is the date of my first solo art show.

It will only be my second art show ever, the first being a co-exhibit with my dad a hundred million years ago.

I am pretty excited, a little nervous.  Putting yourself 'out there' so to speak is a risky thing as an artist, as a person.  I don't like risky things. I like things I know, things I am good at.  I like my comfort zone.  There are good snacks there.

I like to do my art work in the safety of my own home.  Then put it in boxes and look at it when I feel comfortable.  Show it to people I feel comfortable with. And then go make something yummy to eat.

 An art filled life...you bet.  As long as no one knows about it.

  The age old question on the nature of art. The question artists in black berets, smoking cigarettes and sipping espresso coffee debate using words the rest of us have never heard. Is art ART, if no one sees it? Is it art without the community to receive it?  Is there a point to making a lovely meal if there is no one there to share it with?  You could eat it all by yourself, (I have on more than one occasion, not that I  am proud of it) but isn't it sweeter to share?  We could keep our song to ourselves, but wouldn't it be nicer if someone could hear it?  Not in my case, but a song sung by someone with a good voice? Does a tree in the woods...you get it.

Does sharing complete the process of ART?  I think it might have something to do with it.  Actually, I think sharing completes the process of more than just art.  I could be wrong though, it has been known to happen.  Once, about eight years ago.  It was a bad time for me.

 So here it goes....I'm gonna put myself out there.  And I'm gonna do it tomorrow and the day after, and the day after that and the day after that. The next day I might take a day off though, I get so tired.

If you are anywhere near my neck of the woods on June 4th, come see me, I could use the love.  If you are too far away, I accept gifts and checks.  Love comes in lots of different ways.

Friday June 4th 2010,  

5:30pm Studio Mantra 5th Ave.Downtown Eugene 

(Across from Oregon Electric Station)

ART

I have art in my blood.  Wait, no, that's gin.  Sometimes I get them confused.

Seriously though, I was born to not one, but two artists. 

 When my parents were living in sin in San Francisco in the mid 60's, they were very bohemian.  My mother worked at I Magnin's as a window display designer.  Well, first she was a bra saleswoman.  Later, she did window displays.  She was working to put my father through art school.  The San Francisco Art Institute, which he later graduated from with a Masters in Fine Art.

They were so bohemian that after they had their second child (my shoeaholic sister Nava), they decided that they wanted to take their budding young family and their artistic ideals out of the big city and plop them down in the middle of the whitest, most republican county in California.  And then along came baby number three.  Yep, you guessed it, me.

(I started drinking gin at a young age.)

So my parents take their kids, their art, their lives into the woods.  There in the woods, my parents did their art.  By this time, they had begun making jewlery which  would be the bulk of their livelihood until my mother passed away.  My dad also illustrated books, painted, taught art and was a general "artist about town".

I remember my dad always saying, "Art isn't a thing, it is a way of life."  I am not quite sure what that meant to him, but for me, it has become a manta of sorts.  I mean, why would I just do art?  Why not live it?  Besides, is art something that can just be done?  Is it something we just hang on a wall?  Or go to the theater to watch?  Or the symphony to listen to? Is it something that is separate from our "real lives"?

I don't think so.  I think that it is something that lives in the very essence of who we are as a people.  Isn't art a form of expression? At it's highest, a transcendence of sorts?  If so, isn't that what human beings have been striving for since the dawn of time?  

I think, and I know you are all waiting for this...I think that art isn't just out there...it's in here too.  It's in our blood.  Not just mine, but yours too.

So get out there and make some ART...dance, write, paint, cook, clean, eat, arrange flowers, light a candle, or whatever floats your boat. 

Do something that transcends.  Do some thing beautiful.

Because really,  there is an art to everything.

 Even us.

Meet this lovely lady tomorrow.

So much things to say right now...I got so much things to say...

I grew up listening to lots of Bob Marley.  My dad was/is a hippie artist, who also happened to listen to the likes of the
Kenny Rodgers, Patsy Cline, The Rolling Stones,  and my personal favorite, Willie Nelson.


 That's where the title comes from today, Bob Marley.
 And 35 years of waiting for a captive audience.

When I sat down today and the box said TITLE, that is just what came out. So much things to say right now.... Because I have been thinking all morning about my blog.  That's the way I roll, when I start something new, is consumes me.  I probably have about three weeks in me and then you won't ever hear from me again.  Like I said, that's how I roll.

Back to the title again...really when I think about what I want to share with the cyber world, my mind goes crazy, nuts, it spins.  Like the Gravatron at the county fair.  Remember that?  Anyone?








Okay, back on topic...

So a blog about my life? My family? My art? My cooking? My dog? About the stinky guy at the gym?  You are going to hear about it all folks.  But  today I am going to choose my favorite thing in the world.

Food.

 I love food.  All food, I love it all.  Rich food, diet food, Indian food, Thai food, junk food, organic food,  left over food.  You name it, I will eat it.  Okay, I don't really like fish.  But I will eat it sometimes because I know it is good for me.  Oh, and American Cheese.  I don't like that.  Again though, maybe I just haven't found the right recipe.

I want to share with you one of my recent revelations.  I want to share it with both of you who read my blog, you know who you are.

No Knead Bread.  It's lovely really, crust, chewy, easy, peasy lemon squeezy.

Recipe: No-Knead Bread

• Adapted from Jim Lahey, Sullivan Street Bakery

Time: About 1½ hours plus 14 to 20 hours’ rising

Related

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more for dusting
¼ teaspoon instant yeast
1¼ teaspoons salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed.
1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.
2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.
3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.
4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is O.K. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.
Yield: One 1½-pound loaf.

Mother's Day

Mother's Day...alas it is bitter sweet.  The day we all get a chance to think about the miracle of our mothers.  The miracle of life.  The miracle of her very body putting us here on this earth.  I tell my kids all the time, not just on Mother's Day.

"I made you.  I made you out of my blood, my air, my food, I shared my body with you.  I let you live there for 9 months and two weeks; you were BOTH LATE!"


Not that I am bitter about that whole late thing, we will get to the bitter.

But what I tell them more than anything is that I made them with LOVE.  At which point they gag, hold up their hands and utter things like,

"Oh my god, stop there!"
"Why do you have to say things about that?"
"TMI, Mom, TMI!"
"That's gross."

They haven't yet discovered the miracle of love and how it make all life possible.  They just don't want to invision their parents kissing.  Who does?

So LOVE, Love is the sweet, always good to start with the sweet.

And now for the bitter...

My mom died 10 years ago. Suddenly, of a massive heart attack.  And I was with her.  I won't go much further about that part, don't want to scare anyone off quite yet, there's still plenty of time for me to scare you away.

Any who...

Today I miss my mother.  Not that I don't miss her everyday, because I do.  But a whole day to celebrate her, on a day when my family celebrates me.  Somehow, it feels weird.  Don't get me wrong, not having to be responsible for a present or a call, beautiful.  I am not one for responsibilities, they scare me.  Or obligations, they make me mad, but I would do it all, a thousand calls, a thousand thoughtful, on-time gifts for just one day.

Just one day with my mom.

The cuttie pie with the handbag is me, I will tell you about the other two little girls later.

Okay the one on the right is my brother, Mountain Lion...it was the 70's, give him a break.