Story-time today will be brought to you by the letter Chaos, and its good friend Stream Of Consciousness. In no particular order. Just to keep you on your toes.
Who knew, when the bag of Art Supplies And Other Creative Goodies was returned to me this week, that the unused piece of unbleached muslin I'd tucked in there would come in so handy? As it is, for the first time ever, I have been forced to restrain my arm. Not because a doctor has told me to, oh no. Nothing so reasonable as that. It may have been the little run-in I had with a hammock last week, though chances are it was instead something innocuous like using my shoulder wrong in one of those I'm Going To Fix All Those Stretches Of Inertia With One Huge Workout Today! incidents. And it would have been fine, too, but I keep doing stupid stuff with my arm which is attached to the strained shoulder. So common sense, of which I have a mild amount on intermittent days, tells me I need to STOP USING THAT ARM. Only I don't. So I made myself a sling. Out of a perfect length of light-weight fabric that just showed up at the right time. Having it in the sling helps me remember to stop doing stupid stuff. For a while, anyway.
It's a happy day when you have scheduled time not to see another human being for almost 24 hours (except for the passersby who probably made fun of my fashion choices a couple of hours ago, when I went outside in the kind of "getup" you never once in a million years imagined you would clothe yourself in, in the privacy of a closed closet, much less in someone's front yard. But there you are, suddenly, pushing an electric lawnmower (how cool are those inventions!!???) and laughing out loud when you see the look on the faces of the people who actually meet your eyes and you know what you would be thinking were you the one walking or driving by.
There's something so gratifying about having reached a point in life when you're willing to let your hair down and not care very little what others think.
The last time I used a lawn mower, bees were involved. Have you been around for long enough to remember that story? If not, you're welcome to read about it. Although I could just tell you the ending, which involved me crying in the shower and being held hostage by the bees that hadn't yet stung me when I ran over their nest in the front yard, when they tried to dive bomb me in retaliation for their newly-discovered homelessness. It was a pitiful, self-serving, whiny little rant and I couldn't hear the word "yellow jacket" or "lawn mower" for years without being covered in chills and feeling a little ill. See? No need to read it now, though here's a link in case you're bored. So I took a little break from said activity for about 8 years. But today I decided that was about enough, and I cut the grass. Sometimes the simple gratifications are the best ones.
Wanna hear about another one? Well, good! Yesterday while I was getting ready for an atypically-early coffee date, I had some time with my thoughts. That's always a fun little circus, especially at 5:45am. (Somebody should send out a memo about how that hour of day is sort of an experiment and we're all supposed to sleep through it. Seriously.) As I dried my hair, all manner of uninvited thoughts showed up. As is their custom. Thoughts about road trips and photo shoots and work deadlines and video editing and platform heels and painters' easels and salamanders and hammocks and pollen and eventually it was time to go out the door to meet my friend... just like that! So back to the part about easels. I have this fantasy that one day my life could involve lots of time for painting. If you've been around for a while, you'll already know that I'm not a painter, but that I also don't really let impediments like that stop me from trying things, and since half my friends seem to be fine artists who can paint things you could recognize in the wild, I'm content to let them keep that corner of creativity locked down. I'm much more likely to paint something abstract, anyway, so we're good. Still, I usually don't. And yet? The thought I kept having yesterday was, "I wish I had an easel. Of my own!" Which is odd, sure, but not necessarily out of the ordinary when your thoughts are lined up like mine are.
Still, it's not like I really need an easel.
The coolest part of this story happened hours later when, after a 2 hour meeting related to Showcase of Original Music, and a visit in the studio of the glorious Phyllis Sharpe - one of the aforementioned fine artists who can paint things you would recognize - I walked out the front door of The Creative Center to be greeted by a smattering of friends who were engaged in lively conversation. Considering the length of this post already - and the fact that Henry the Cat just climbed up my shoulder (I am not making this up, in spite of the fact that it never happened before,) and would apparently like more attention than I am giving him at the moment - I'll just cut to the chase about the easel. Karine Thoresen walked toward me and said, "Do you want this easel?" Um. Excuse me? And just like that, in the same way someone she didn't know (if I understood the story correctly,) gave her that very easel at The Bog Garden earlier in the day, she gave it to me. It's very old and as a professional artist she certainly doesn't need an easel, though she was most grateful and would have certainly used a gifted easel, old or not! But seriously. Is that random, or what? I've decided to start being much more clear about things I want. In fact, there may be some list-making activities tonight before I sleep.
Oh. The other thing I was supposed to tell you about is indecisiveness. I'll keep that part even shorter, but since I promised in the title and it seems worth mentioning, I'll tell you a bit of what's on my mind, on that front. As I've mentioned recently, I finally launched a website fully devoted to Attention Deficit Disorder. Because duh. And now? I think it might not be the kind of site I want to maintain, after all. Yes, seriously. Dena asked me, yesterday while standing in line for our coffee, "Isn't that something you might not have considered before you built a whole website?" (People never use the words "A.D.D." and Dena Harris in the same sentence, in case you were wondering.) We then laughed, the answer to her question suddenly obvious. I did; of course I did. I thought about it for months. Talked about it. Researched. Journaled. And decided that yes, I wanted to start a website dedicated to A.D.D. Only now? It's kind of getting on my nerves. So I'll have to decide what to do about it, and then I'll let you know. Eventually I'll tell you what it's called. But I think it's easier if I first just figure out what I'm going to do with it, and then I can simplify things... then tell you.
Okay. Now I need to go finish processing photos from last weekend's Showcase event, and then regroup. I've set up the easel although that's no guarantee that I'll use it today. We'll just have to wait and see. Still, it's pretty cool to see it just standing there, looking all nice and Mine! Happy Saturday, y'all!