Farewell, Revenge

I thought I would feel better. I thought if I spoke my truth, I would feel better. I don't. I thought if H1 and H2 knew my story, the way it happened to me, I would feel better. I tried to be snarky and ill-tempered, but the thing is, that is just not me. Not at all. At the end of the day, I still say a little prayer to H1's and H2's angel. I ask that their angel guide them in light and truth and honor. So, you see dear readers, my attempt at revenge is simply not successful.

I feel better when I send out lovely poetry. I feel better when I describe the sunrise, or the late night breezes that wash away the scorching heat of the day. I feel better when I post photographs of my daily journey. I feel better when I see the spider as a helper in the garden, instead of a predator. You see, this has been my problem all along. I never believed that people I knew and worked with on a daily basis, closely, sharing our struggles, our triumphs, large and small could turn on me. Never. I NEVER thought this could happen. Even as it was happening, I did not believe it to be true. I could never believe that fear and revenge could be so strong and heavy handed. I never thought that EVERYONE I knew would NEVER want to speak to me again.

So, H1 and H2, you are off the hook. I will let you be. Instead, you can print out reams of poetry and gardening tips, love songs by Hafiz, photos of puppies and poppies. Even though you are printing this blog out and submitting it to a judge in order to prove I am a liar and cheater, maybe, one of the poems, one of the Morning Musings, will touch your heart, just a little. Maybe then, when you enter a courtroom, you will see before you a person who simply got hurt while working. And, hopefully, instead of trying to smash their last bit of wellness into the ground, instead of portraying them as liars and cheats, you will try to help them, just a little. The insurance companies are hurting people, I know you know that. I know you need to pay for your daughter's Bat Mitzfah, H1. I am sure she will need money for university, so I understand you need to work. However, please remember, one day, your daughter will be well past her Bat Mitzfah, past university, she will hopefully be working in a lucrative profession, one that makes you proud, H1. What happens if a book shelf falls on her, what if she is a teacher and is injured on a field trip? Who do you want sitting across from her when her Worker's Compensation Claim ends up in tatters? What if she has to lie in her bed, waiting for a Claims Examiner like D. F.? You have been around the block. You KNOW she is incompetent. Be the person you would want there for your children. Be an example of human goodness, show your daughter what a good man does, how a good man lives. Please. For her sake.

Wellies

I will use any excuse to wear my new wellies. We usually have little opportunity in Los Angeles to don rain gear. After living in the Pacific Northwest for many years, I know first hand the benefit of proper rain gear! It makes the wetness, not only more tolerable, but more fun. I found these wellies in a thrift store for $3. They were half off! I LOVE half off sales at thrift stores. I feel like I am getting away with something.

I purchased these wellies with the hope of a winter of life giving rain. My prayers have been answered, we have had much rain, it has kept the mountains green and the sky clean. Not an easy feat here in the City of Angels and our need to drive alone along crowded highways and byways. After a weekend of 80 degree temperatures and hot sunshine, Wednesday arrived with a torrent of rain. It spoiled a trip to the ocean, but I used it as an opportunity to pull on my wellies and my black macintosh   and headed out to enjoy the weather. It was nice to be cold, to have the cool, gray air kissing my cheeks and blowing my hair loose from my hair tie. It felt good to button up my coat to guard against a chill. It did not last long. The rain blew out late last night. The morning dawned with bright blue skies and ice cream cone clouds. There was a cleansing wind throughout the day that whispered, "Spring is upon us. Spring is upon us."

Tomorrow I will plant more seedlings and draw a plan for a new garden bed. In the hot, dog days of summer, I will recall splashing in my wellies along the damp ground, and hopefully be cooled by a sweet, damp memory. Spring is upon us! Spring is upon us!

Vintage Dresses

I have always been attracted to vintage clothing. In my teens and early twenties, I dressed almost exclusively in vintage clothing. I love the thrill of coming across a true find at the thrift store or flea market. I love the idea that I may have come across something very special, a beloved item that has been hanging around all of this time, just so I could stumble upon it. 

My home is filled with one of a kind items that I treasure. I like having lovely things about our home, especially if they only set me back 80 cents! So, a few years ago my daughter and I found the most precious tea length gown from the 1950's. It looked a bit like a ballerina dress. It was a dusty rose color with silver tulle over the full skirt and bodice. The bodice was embellished with silver and white beads. My daughter looked stunning in it, it was her sixteenth birthday present. That winter, she wore it to the winter formal dance. Nobody else had the same dress.

Last year for the prom, she wore a gold halter dress that we purchased at the 99 Cent Only Store. Yes, the 99 Cent Only Store. It was $1.07 with tax. We bought it as a fluke because, well it was kind of funny that it was there and that it fit and it was 99 Cents. It went into the closet with a few other formal dresses that had been thrifted or given to her over the years. As the prom approached, she was busy trying on all of the dresses she was considering. Sheepishly, she came into our room and said, "Mom, I think I am going to wear the dress from the 99 Cent Only Store." And so she did. My sister gave her some fancy silver shoes that she was going to throw out because she had never worn them. We hit the thrift store and found a bit of silver lame. I sewed the fabric into a wrap and she carried a purse she thrifted a few years ago for $1. All in all, I believe the total for the entire outfit was $6. We paid more for her date's boutonniere.

Last Sunday she and I hit the Pasadena City College Flea Market. There was a vintage formal dress I thought she might like. The dress was on the first rack as we approached the stall. It was cute and she liked it, but after she tried it on, it really was apparent that it did not suit her. That was just the beginning though. As she is one of a very slim population that can actually fit into vintage dresses, she had her pick. She decided then and there she would dress in vintage clothing every day for the rest of her life. So cute.

We left the stall with a sweet new formal for the Winter Formal or the Prom, and a couple of handmade sun dresses from the 1950's. You might be wondering why this qualifies as a blog post. Well, it is because I am so happy she is her mother's daughter. I am so happy that she is content with the simple things in life. It makes me happy that she doesn't have to have a dress or outfit that impresses other people. It is enough that it makes her happy. It makes me happy that she has no problem going to the prom in a dress we bought from the 99 Cent Only Store!

The above photos are from one of her finds. It was $5. When she got home she asked me, " Is it possible to love a piece of clothing, I mean really love it?" Yes, my dear, it is.

Joan de Arc

This is one of the last paintings I completed. I have had torn feelings about it. Did Joan succumb to the flames or did she transcend the flames? I feel as though I need to answer this question to find some peace in the turmoil of my own life. 

I would like to think that Joan walked out of the flames. Not physically, but spiritually. In the end, aren't the transformations we make spiritually even more important than the physical transformations? What is the mood we end up carrying with us through the rest of our days? If we transcend the flames instead of just physically walking out of the flames maybe we are less likely to walk into the flames again? Perhaps, we can put the lesson behind us. Hopefully we do not have to keep circling back around and repeating the same lesson.

So I think I believe that Joan walked out of the flames physically and spiritually. She was pretty clear about her intentions. She remained very focused throughout her ordeal. 

I just read that Joan was born on The Epiphany. Coincidence? I think not...Time to walk out of the flames.

Afraid To Paint

I have been suffering from extreme peaks and valleys of emotion. I never had this experience before. I have had others, but not this one. Some days I get out of bed and tend to chores and maybe even do a little handwork or sewing. Other days, the blueness sinks down into my soul and limbs and I find it hard to get out of bed. I sink down under the covers, surrounded by pillows and cover my face from the bright world outside of my window. I never want to leave the bed. I force myself into the shower as the hour approaches when everyone returns home. I try to look like I have been productive. Sometimes I make a nice dinner to fool everyone. After dinner it is all I can do to stay out of the bed. There have been many days when I look at the clock and think, "Is 6:30 too early to go to bed?"

Today was one of the later days. I had an appointment at 1:30 and was forced to leave the house. I showered and dressed and drove downtown. All I could think of was how I guilty I felt for wasting the day away. I should be sewing, or cleaning, or reading, or painting.

I had a terrifying realization today. I am afraid to paint. I am afraid of what I will paint. The last two major paintings I completed seemed to manifest themselves in my life. I painted the Crucifixion of Christ and The Burning of Joan Of Arc. I am afraid of what I will paint now. I have felt crucified recently, I have felt as though I have been burned at the stake. So, I am afraid. Afraid of what will come.

Maybe I will sew instead...