Now why am I showing more of these? Because not all of them showed up in my FEATURE ARTICLE — wha? in ART QUENCH MAGAZINE !!! Oh poor dear you say … and you should, really — ha!
Here is the article. I’m really overwhelmed that I’m the feature, truly!
Cool, huh? And there is more of my personal story, also. In case you wanted to know it.
Now that car dates the foto, because it was a newish car at the time, ‘kay?
That’s all I’ve got. The rest are in the article. Sweetness.
So, about a day and a half ago, it was like a switch flipped, and some sunny side came up. For real. I have no idea how this works. It has gone back and forth some, but somehow, some way, I have a life again. Nothing has changed. Not a damned thing. But I am blessed.
Yesterday I had a mammogram, routine, and I passed. I had to run get three years’ worth of old ones to show them, and just as I was pulling in to the parking lot, they called and said I had passed, and ran downstairs to meet me for the old records. I am blessed.
Then I figured I would go ahead and get the bloodwork to see how I’m doing on menopause. The lady who drew my blood and I admired each other’s bling bling (bracelets). Hee.
My back really is hurting again, though, from all that sitting and driving and waiting rooms.
I did, however, learn a lot about writing poetry, almost as if I am taking a Summer mini-course on it. I’m reading Poetry in Person: Twenty-five Years of Conversation with American Poets, edited by Alexander Neumauer. It is at the New School, with Pearl London doing the interviews. It is most excellent, I must say. You should read, if you write or read poetry. Great thoughts and great fun.
I’m entering a contest for Beatlick Joe Speer, who passed several years ago, due in a few weeks, only to realize that they must be in his form of poetry, ten lines only. So I’m writing three new poems. Only one to go, and much editing of the first two. The book is helping a lot. The poems just spill out of nowhere, letting me know that the poet is alive and well …
I used to write poetry when I had no other form of artwork, with a passion and a FIRE. Now I’m like, meh. I should be better about it. Reading this book reminds me of what a true craft and delight it can be. Hmmmm.
I swam three laps today and it came easily. I need to keep swimming while the water is still warmish. It was cool for the first time this morning — a reminder that Summer is coming slowly to an end. Or something. Who knows anymore?
It is weird, for sure. I had some time trying to decide what I wanted to wear. Oh dear, poor thing, you say. I’m no longer ready for the pure whites, although I long for them, so I settled for the botanical maxi with a cap-sleeved black tee and BLING. I felt like some kind of princesa. Nice but strange.
Picked up the zip drive from my counselor upon which she had put all the records and notes from 2010 to the present (this past Tuesday) for the attorney and mailed the lovely thing (?) to the attorney.
On the way to the post office, a younger alter insisted that we were going to the library. Hmmm.
We’re probably not able to get canvases for some good time. We have to afford a thousand dollars for family insurance and every scrap of money counts toward that.
So I’m going to be on the black paper with some more jungly things a bit longer.
I was thinking last night, and voiced to Jason, getting ready for bed. So I feel good again, Am I supposed to start working on Rage IV again now?
He said, Absolutely not! Give yourself a break. Not in the name of progress.
So … more jungly things on black paper it is. Ow, my head hurts really badly suddenly. Really, really ow.
Sigh. Okay, gotta rest.