So much progress on the painting today. I decided to reverse the colors from the top of the cornlet to the top of the … field? I have barely enough yellow to go much further. I have a little on the palette and a little in the tube. AND I have a tad of the second darkest lime mixed. Bah. Well, I’ve made it this far. Should be interesting, eh? Ha. We shall see. I have a lot of hope and faith and determination for this piece. It is too strong to go wrong. What? Heh.
So … yesterday I had the meeting with the wonderful, most capable and communicative surgeon, skills that are not always found in the same surgeon, right? Okay, so the date is April 29 at 7:30 AM. He said the surgery itself will take roughly five hours because he is fusing roughly three places. I say roughly because in two vertebrae it will be on both side and in one place on one side. So who’s counting, really? Not me, assuredly. I am in tons of pain and am just willing and gladly so to exchange one kind of BAD pain for another kind of GOOD pain that gets better over time, right? Right.
It all depends, really. He said some people feel better in, like, three months or less and some people are still a bit achey for a year. I won’t have much physical therapy (yay! I was worried about the $45 hits of co-pays there) except for WALKING, which I dearly love to do, and the weather will be perfect for it.
Otherwise, I’ll be out of commission for 2-6 weeks, for different things, depending on what the thing is. Like, walking Chipper, blogging, painting, doing laundry, driving, what have you.
AND the Open House, sad to say, will not be happening on June 15 as planned, it just won’t. I just can’t make that happen. So, like in the early Fall, late Summer, maybe. We will just have to play that one by ear.
Yesterday I was so overwhelmed, even with basically the relief of good news and information I’ve been waiting for, that I was in bed the rest of the day.
Today I’ve been giggling, and in enormous back and base of skull pain. Gah.
I did, however, take the opportunity to paint over my Greenwich Village green pedicured toenails, which I just found I could not stand anymore … with many many … as many coats as it took to cover the green … with a delightful shimmery peach I’ve adored for many a year. I have the Affair with Red but it was a bit too scary for Spring. Because it just may be that I shall be baring the feet a bit on Easter Sunday. Don’t know yet.
See you know how much I adore green. But I am just too too feminina to have the dark green on the toe. Non Non. It shall not be. I doubt I could handle black, either. The Affair with Red astonishes me, also, but it is quite classic, so I can allow it. Ahem.
Reading the anthology of Latin American poets yesterday, I thought, we are a special lot, us poets, dreamers, writers, artists, etc. We sense and translate some sort of coded existence. Ordinary words and dumbed down stuff drives us NUTS, and has for the millennia. Proof is in the poetry, the angst. I listened to Chris Whitley this morning before getting out of bed and the verbal writhing in his lyrics … just listen. We’re out there. In the small towns and in the big.
I remember when I went to the Art League of Germantown meeting a few weeks ago and the founder was talking about how she wondered if anyone would come to the first meeting. But the artists were out there. We’re out there.
I’m not sure what I’m trying to say. When I was growing up in a small town I felt incredibly alone, isolated. Now, less so. Maybe I’m trying to say, reach out for your fellow artistes, past and present. Don’t be discouraged by the dumbing down. Reach for the big words and the small, for the excellence within and without you. Don’t be afraid to dream it. Make it. Create it. BE IT.