Okay, I'm convinced--there are medicinal powers in soup!
After dragging for a week, I had a turn-around this afternoon when Cindy brought me homemade soup.
Roasted peppers, onions, garlic, potatoes, chicken brother, coriander, and cumin: these are the magic ingredients that put the wind back in my sails and made me feel amazingly, almost instantly, better.
That and a cup of hot tea from Teavana--Orange Spice--and I could feel myself shaking the allergy or cold or whatever has been hanging out for nearly seven days. That and a personal delivery and conversation is the recipe for getting well.
I'm so grateful to you, Cindy, for bringing me soup on this almost-chilly Sunday afternoon!
Monday, September 15, 2014
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Decisions, Decisions...
I'm having a Libra day over which Sketchbook Skool class to take! Betty always says I make decisions by "consensus" because I tend to invite a multitude of opinions--then do what I want to do anyway!
Sketchbook Skool is taking a big step into the unfamiliar, getting out of my comfort zone with words. Their website makes every class look so interesting I want to take them all, but Nellie (who told me about this in the first place) advises taking only one at a time. I've narrowed it down to two:
Seeing and Storytelling, leaning a bit toward the latter because Danny teaches a segment on sketching and road trips.
In Italy, while I was writing in my pretty blue journal that Betty gave me, Nellie was drawing in hers. She had prepared pages with watercolor backgrounds and sat in front of churches and art and sketched what she saw. Her journal was a visual treat!
I do believe that getting outside one's comfort zone is important to keep the juices juicy. When I'm on a road trip, my camera is right beside me. On this upcoming trip--which coincides with the drawing class, I'll keep my sketchbook nearby and try drawing what I see. If I'm brave enough, I'll post my results.
I'll be leaving for Georgia on October 13th--to see the fall colors. It's so vivid there in October that I'm going to need a whole package of magic markers and watercolor pens.
If you're interested in joining me for Sketchbook Skool, go to Sketchbookskool.com and check out the three classes, one of which begins October 3rd.
There's also a free drawing class at the McNay on Monday October 6th from 9 to 11. If you're interested in joining this outdoor class, call Kate at McNay and see if there's still space available.
Sketchbook Skool is taking a big step into the unfamiliar, getting out of my comfort zone with words. Their website makes every class look so interesting I want to take them all, but Nellie (who told me about this in the first place) advises taking only one at a time. I've narrowed it down to two:
Seeing and Storytelling, leaning a bit toward the latter because Danny teaches a segment on sketching and road trips.
In Italy, while I was writing in my pretty blue journal that Betty gave me, Nellie was drawing in hers. She had prepared pages with watercolor backgrounds and sat in front of churches and art and sketched what she saw. Her journal was a visual treat!
I do believe that getting outside one's comfort zone is important to keep the juices juicy. When I'm on a road trip, my camera is right beside me. On this upcoming trip--which coincides with the drawing class, I'll keep my sketchbook nearby and try drawing what I see. If I'm brave enough, I'll post my results.
I'll be leaving for Georgia on October 13th--to see the fall colors. It's so vivid there in October that I'm going to need a whole package of magic markers and watercolor pens.
If you're interested in joining me for Sketchbook Skool, go to Sketchbookskool.com and check out the three classes, one of which begins October 3rd.
There's also a free drawing class at the McNay on Monday October 6th from 9 to 11. If you're interested in joining this outdoor class, call Kate at McNay and see if there's still space available.
Netflix Travel
Cool air blew in yesterday--to the delight of all of us who have been waiting for the triple-digit temps to drop!
Those of us suffering allergies to pollen and ragweed and mold are now hoping for a few days of heavy rain to scrub the air.
I mean to get outside today, to walk, to move my body--now that I can no longer use the extreme heat as an excuse to stay inside in my movie cave. Before I end my vicarious cinema travel, I want to list the highlights: (In parenthesis beside each title is either the country or region or sub-culture that the film is about.)
Like Father, Like Son (Japan)
Bliss (Turkey)
Wadjda (Saudi Arabia)
Unfinished Sky (Australia)
Korkura (France)
Generation War (Germany)
New Year Baby (Cambodia and U.S.)
The Stories We Tell (Canada)
Shunned (American Amish)
Happy Valley (Wales, BBC series)
The English Patient
Filling the Void (Orthodox Jewish community)
Last Tango in Halifax
As It Is In Heaven (Sweden)
Guilt Trip (U.S.)
Overnight (U.S.)
Under the Tuscan Sun (Italy)
After the Wedding (India and Denmark)
Mother Of Mine (Sweden)
Those of us suffering allergies to pollen and ragweed and mold are now hoping for a few days of heavy rain to scrub the air.
I mean to get outside today, to walk, to move my body--now that I can no longer use the extreme heat as an excuse to stay inside in my movie cave. Before I end my vicarious cinema travel, I want to list the highlights: (In parenthesis beside each title is either the country or region or sub-culture that the film is about.)
Like Father, Like Son (Japan)
Bliss (Turkey)
Wadjda (Saudi Arabia)
Unfinished Sky (Australia)
Korkura (France)
Generation War (Germany)
New Year Baby (Cambodia and U.S.)
The Stories We Tell (Canada)
Shunned (American Amish)
Happy Valley (Wales, BBC series)
The English Patient
Filling the Void (Orthodox Jewish community)
Last Tango in Halifax
As It Is In Heaven (Sweden)
Guilt Trip (U.S.)
Overnight (U.S.)
Under the Tuscan Sun (Italy)
After the Wedding (India and Denmark)
Mother Of Mine (Sweden)
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
"The Inner Child"
Remember that catch phrase in the sixties--We should "get in touch with our inner child"?
Well, I'm more convinced than ever that the expression carries some good advice for all of us!
My friend Sandy--who happens to be a therapist--said recently that if we don't let the inner child out to play, it will misbehave, just as real children do. She suggested that an ignored child-part will cry out for whatever it takes to feel better: often overindulgences in sweets and comfort foods.
Think of child's play as a weight loss program, if you have to--but let that kid inside you have some fun!
I've started a small collection of dolls, ostensibly for Elena (to whom I'll give them when she's older), but for now, these little dolls just make me happy. (I've always photographed faces of old dolls and rag dolls in antique stores, though until recently, it didn't occur to me to actually buy them.)
I saw a boy doll in overalls that reminded me of Will when he was little--and the price tag said $100. I picked him up and noticed that his arm was a bit wonky at the shoulder joint, a handicap which I pointed out to the owner. Before I knew it, she'd reduced the price. "Okay, I'll let him go for $15!"
Sold to the lady who likes this little guy!
I don't like all dolls. A Barbie doll, for example, will never high-heel it into my house--unless she sneaks in under cover of darkness when I'm sleeping. I like dolls with happy child faces, dolls that speak to my inner seven-year-old, dolls that look like potential friends.
Well, I'm more convinced than ever that the expression carries some good advice for all of us!
My friend Sandy--who happens to be a therapist--said recently that if we don't let the inner child out to play, it will misbehave, just as real children do. She suggested that an ignored child-part will cry out for whatever it takes to feel better: often overindulgences in sweets and comfort foods.
Think of child's play as a weight loss program, if you have to--but let that kid inside you have some fun!
I've started a small collection of dolls, ostensibly for Elena (to whom I'll give them when she's older), but for now, these little dolls just make me happy. (I've always photographed faces of old dolls and rag dolls in antique stores, though until recently, it didn't occur to me to actually buy them.)
I saw a boy doll in overalls that reminded me of Will when he was little--and the price tag said $100. I picked him up and noticed that his arm was a bit wonky at the shoulder joint, a handicap which I pointed out to the owner. Before I knew it, she'd reduced the price. "Okay, I'll let him go for $15!"
Sold to the lady who likes this little guy!
I don't like all dolls. A Barbie doll, for example, will never high-heel it into my house--unless she sneaks in under cover of darkness when I'm sleeping. I like dolls with happy child faces, dolls that speak to my inner seven-year-old, dolls that look like potential friends.
As It Is In Heaven....
Imagine a little boy who has a dream, a passion--but it's outside the realm of what's normal where he lives. Picture a small village in Sweden or the most poverty-ridden or affluent neighborhood of San Antonio.
The setting could be anywhere because it's a universal story: a child has a dream and other kids set about to bully him out of it. Or adults dismiss the dream and suggests that the child doesn't have what it takes, or hand him one of their own instead.
In the movie, As It Is In Heaven, the boy dreams of making music "to open the hearts" of everyone. The bullies in his village beat him up and call him a "fiddler."
It only takes one person to rescue a child and his (or her) dream--and in this story, it's his young widowed mother who believes in him. He goes on to become an acclaimed conductor after her untimely death.
Daniel's passion makes him successful, but his frenzied work also leads to heart problems (ironically enough) and he collapses after a performance.
Of all places, he returns to the village of his childhood to recuperate, buys his old elementary school to live in, and sets about to live a reclusive life, "just listening."
Imagine what it must be like for an accomplished musician to live in a place where the only music in town comes from a motley choir in a little church. Picture people like people anywhere--old, young, angry, kind--all gathered to practice songs for Sunday services. One is handicapped, another is repeatedly beaten by her drunken husband, another is the spunky preacher's wife....
This two-hour film (Oscar nominee for best foreign film) is a study in opening of hearts. It's understated, poignant, and unforgettable.
The setting could be anywhere because it's a universal story: a child has a dream and other kids set about to bully him out of it. Or adults dismiss the dream and suggests that the child doesn't have what it takes, or hand him one of their own instead.
In the movie, As It Is In Heaven, the boy dreams of making music "to open the hearts" of everyone. The bullies in his village beat him up and call him a "fiddler."
It only takes one person to rescue a child and his (or her) dream--and in this story, it's his young widowed mother who believes in him. He goes on to become an acclaimed conductor after her untimely death.
Daniel's passion makes him successful, but his frenzied work also leads to heart problems (ironically enough) and he collapses after a performance.
Of all places, he returns to the village of his childhood to recuperate, buys his old elementary school to live in, and sets about to live a reclusive life, "just listening."
Imagine what it must be like for an accomplished musician to live in a place where the only music in town comes from a motley choir in a little church. Picture people like people anywhere--old, young, angry, kind--all gathered to practice songs for Sunday services. One is handicapped, another is repeatedly beaten by her drunken husband, another is the spunky preacher's wife....
This two-hour film (Oscar nominee for best foreign film) is a study in opening of hearts. It's understated, poignant, and unforgettable.
The last lines of Winter's Tale
Charlotte brought these lines to writing group and I wanted to share them on my blog space:
What if we are all unique
and the universe loves us all equally
so much so
it bends over backwards
across the centuries
for each and every one of us,
and sometimes we are just lucky enough
to see it.
No life is more important than another
and nothing has been without purpose,
nothing.
What if we are all part of a great pattern
that we may someday understand
And one day
only have done
what we alone
are capable of doing,
we get to rise up
and reunite with those
we have loved the most, forever embraced
What if we get to become stars?
What if we are all unique
and the universe loves us all equally
so much so
it bends over backwards
across the centuries
for each and every one of us,
and sometimes we are just lucky enough
to see it.
No life is more important than another
and nothing has been without purpose,
nothing.
What if we are all part of a great pattern
that we may someday understand
And one day
only have done
what we alone
are capable of doing,
we get to rise up
and reunite with those
we have loved the most, forever embraced
What if we get to become stars?
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Part of a letter from Carlene to Day...
Day so wanted to go to her Uncle David's funeral--mainly to support Carlene. We talked briefly about getting flights and going there, but Carlene discouraged our going. The following is part of a beautiful letter she wrote to Day (and shared with me) after telling us on the phone that he had only two questions for the hospice doctor: "What will it be like to die?" and "How long will it take?"
This experience with David has been blessed in many ways. We had a total of 23 hours at his side (minus one night of sleep) and it had to have been orchestrated by a power beyond us because every minute was spent wisely and his questions were answered so that he could just fall asleep when we left hospice for the hotel ... and he waited until we got back the next morning so we could be there when he went as peacefully as falling asleep.
...After the intensity, sadness, lucidity, love expressions, raw beauty of yesterday... with David's questions so tenderly, honestly and lovingly addressed by the professional palliative caregivers here at hospice, too soon WE will ask the question, "How was it?" And we won't be able to hear his answer."
Yesterday with five of us in the room, as his breathing became shallow, the nurse with her stethoscope listened again .. and soon said, "I think that is his last one!" ...my first thought was that I held him so soon after his first breath 3-9-36 and now felt his life here close like a parenthesis!
But he carried no weight. He, the eternal collector, when asked, " What about your furniture?" smiled and said, "That doesn't matter any more..."
This experience with David has been blessed in many ways. We had a total of 23 hours at his side (minus one night of sleep) and it had to have been orchestrated by a power beyond us because every minute was spent wisely and his questions were answered so that he could just fall asleep when we left hospice for the hotel ... and he waited until we got back the next morning so we could be there when he went as peacefully as falling asleep.
...After the intensity, sadness, lucidity, love expressions, raw beauty of yesterday... with David's questions so tenderly, honestly and lovingly addressed by the professional palliative caregivers here at hospice, too soon WE will ask the question, "How was it?" And we won't be able to hear his answer."
Yesterday with five of us in the room, as his breathing became shallow, the nurse with her stethoscope listened again .. and soon said, "I think that is his last one!" ...my first thought was that I held him so soon after his first breath 3-9-36 and now felt his life here close like a parenthesis!
But he carried no weight. He, the eternal collector, when asked, " What about your furniture?" smiled and said, "That doesn't matter any more..."
Saturday, September 6, 2014
It takes a lot of concentration to wash the dishes!
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| First you have to get a quick course in spongology. Sponges are awesome things! |
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Then you have to find a cookie cutter that needs washing. |
 |
| You have to concentrate so you don't mess up your newly painted blue nails--and it's okay if you get more water on the floor than in the sink. |
Uncle David
David went into hospice last night and died this morning. His kidneys were failing and the hospice doctor had told him that he would die within ten days.
I woke up this morning at the exact time he died, and I knew somehow that he was gone. When Jocelyn called to tell me, I wasn't surprised--just sad, for him and for his sisters and brother.
The good thing is that both his sisters were able to be with him this morning. He was asleep when they arrived and two hours later, he died very peacefully. He was lucid enough last night to help plan his service and make decisions about where his things would go. He even had a bit of his characteristic sense of humor to the end.
I woke up this morning at the exact time he died, and I knew somehow that he was gone. When Jocelyn called to tell me, I wasn't surprised--just sad, for him and for his sisters and brother.
The good thing is that both his sisters were able to be with him this morning. He was asleep when they arrived and two hours later, he died very peacefully. He was lucid enough last night to help plan his service and make decisions about where his things would go. He even had a bit of his characteristic sense of humor to the end.
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