Sketching (and that nagging SORE THROAT)

Thursday night I took my first life drawing class.  I've been in a class that painted from real life but not something like this!  I will tell you as time drew near to go I was almost in the flight stage of just skipping it and losing the $20 but I knew I HAD to go.  I wanted to go.  I NEEDED to go.  I packed up my stuff and headed out to an old house in the south part of downtown.  Out of the car, up the steps and into a whole new world for me.  The first person I saw was a guy named Randy O. that I knew from another art group.  Nice guy. There was another much older guy who I was introduced to but immediately forgot his name.  In fact I barely remembered anyone's name because I was so nervous.  The lady whose art house this was popped around the corner and immediately welcomed me by name and got me all set up to begin.  There were I think 6 or 7 of us set up in a two room area and in the middle a lady, in a robe was getting all ready for us to draw.  I heard some mumbling in the front room about 3 minutes, 10 poses but it did not register in my brain and all of a sudden at exactly 6:30, the lady in the robe, dropped her robe and we were on.  I knew it was a nude model life drawing class but it is still a shock to be in mixed company and have that happen.  She posed and I started slowly to try and make some marks on my paper.  I guess 3 minutes had passed in that short time and I had barely made a mark on the paper when I heard a beep and she changed poses.  CRAP, I quickly shifted to the other corner of the paper and started again but was met with the beep I would imagine was 3 minutes.  Paper shuffling I changed paper and my determination to get more than a few marks on the paper.  I started drawing quick marks to just get the bare minimum of marks on the paper to look like the pose.  This continued for another 7 poses at 3 minutes each.  Every time she changed and I started another one I got better and better and faster and faster till the end of that part of the session I actually had forms on the paper.  Then we had 3 sessions of 10 minutes each.  There I got better again with a bit more time to fine tune the figure on paper.  Then we 2 sessions of 20 minutes and it was so much better but you know I felt like I was better at the mark making at the 3 minute times.  All in all I LOVED IT, absolutely LOVED IT!  I cannot wait to go next week.  I'll miss the week after that but I hope to make this my weekly drawing class.  It was such fun and a great drawing exercise.

The few days before the class I worked on these in my sketchbook/watercolor journal.

And this one at the studio, yes I got some time at my actual easel!

This sketch is from a photo I’ve loved forever. It’s me at the sink doing dishes for the first time as a wife (47 years ago) after cooking my first meal as a wife. I know, I know, little did I know what that meant at the time. Still I was blissfully happy here. It was also in our first apartment that we loved so much.

Now on to my body.  I am STILL battling this sore throat thing and it has really got me in my head with worry, to the point my blood pressure is up.  All kinds of things are going through my head, throat cancer, leukemia (bloody noses-2), who knows, but I am DAMN TIRED OF HURTING!  Every night is a struggle to swallow because of the pain.  My doctor last week said lets see how it goes but over the weekend I decided I'm done with this pain.  Yes it is a tad better but not enough to ignore it.  My glands a swollen a bit too and there is sinus drainage.  I think I still have a sinus infection and unfortunately think I NEED another antibiotic and maybe a steroid, but who am I, not a doctor!  But I know my body and I need something.  It has been since June 8 that I have been sick and fighting off something.  It is time to get serious and stop the pain.

Scared, Terrified, Fearful

Next week I am to have my hip replaced.  I'm not going to lie, I'm scared, terrified and generally almost on the verge of calling it off.  I haven't been able to put a finger on why I have this terror.  I know tons and tons of people who have had it done with absolutely no problems.  One of my fears is infection because I've had MRSA before and that always looms over me.  After I heal there is always a chance of rejection and infection, i.e. my Daddy.  On that note I started thinking about my fear when it occurred to me that I have good reason for this fear.  First of all is the whole thing that Daddy went through with having the infection, having surgeries to clean it out and then living WITHOUT the hip for six months before they re-did the hip.  That was ABSOLOUTELY  horrible for him and for us to live through.  Then I remember my granny, when she tripped on a concrete parking thingy at Wal-Mart, fell and broke her hip.  She was so scared to have the surgery because she had friends that were never the same, mentally from the anesthesia.  She was never the same after the replacement but hers was because back then they didn't have physical therapy and she didn't use it like she needed too and it atrophied.  The worst was Momma, who fell in the nursing home two weeks after we had to put her there.  I was the one who got the phone call in the middle of the night.  I was the one who had to sign for her to have surgery.  She didn't make it a month after that.  She was gone.  So you see I have well founded fears that are nagging me in the back of my mind.  I AM SCARED SHITLESS about this whole ordeal but I know it must be done to get my life back.  Damn body.  

New York City- 2019-Art Show

Yes, we did it.  We went to New York for a few days and had an absolute grand time.  

I must say it started off good, until we hit the Charlotte airport, or at least nearly there.  Good grief, there were storms around and lightening so we had to circle a bit and when we landed we sat in the plane for nearly an hour and a half because of lightening.  It virtually shut down the airport because they would not let any staff out on the tarmac, understandably.  BUT, that meant our 30 minute window to the next flight was screwed.  I was encouraged because the airport was shut down that meant no flights were allowed to leave.  Finally, FINALLY we were at the gate but had to wait for The Hubby's carry-on bag he insisted he didn't want to check but the still had to because of space.  Then the race was on to try and get to our gate, we had 15 minutes!!!  Actually, by the time we finally got there it had already left.  I was extremely upset but what could we do.  Well, I didn't panic (a first for me) and we got in a 30 minute line to get a flight out to New York.  The lady was so extremely nice and we had a flight a couple of hours later so we decided to eat dinner.  (We ate a lot of airport food 😞 I was concerned about my bag and exactly where it might be but another extremely helpful guy assured me it was on it's way to NYC ahead of me!  

Finally on the flight to NYC and I was excited for our journey.  We arrived and were met by the driver from our hotel we set up.  I found The Walker Hotel in Greenwich Village which was only .2 miles around the corner from the Salmagundi Club for the art reception.  What a gem of a hotel.   The hotel had the look and feel of being there for many years but The Hubby started quizzing the staff and found out it had only been around for 7 years!  Wow, they did a great job of making it look old.  The restaurant inside, Society was good too.  I had eggs Benedict for the first time too.  

Every evening the staff left cookies on a glass plate by the bed, yummy cookies.  Plus everyone was extremely helpful.  The bartender we struck up a nice report with was Freddy.  What sweet kid.  

Rested from our travels we spent the day Saturday walking and I mean WALKING!  I probably walk/ran a half a mile in the Charlotte airport the day before then we did it again on Saturday, not run though.  

After awhile my feet were tired of the shoes I brought and I usually bring different ones to wear.  It helps my feet to change out the shoes but I didn't bring extras!  So first thing I had to do was find a store to buy some tennis shoes.  Oh gosh, saved my feet for sure.   

I was proud of myself though walking and walking and walking with a LOT of sit down breaks and The Hubby was wonderful about it all.  He was incredibly supportive about it all, just wanted me to be able to enjoy and DO IT!  

Oh I forgot all about this.  The Hubby first wanted to check out the Chelsea Flea Market he has heard about for years.  He has a friend that sets up there sometimes, but not this time.  I really wasn't too impressed and I must say, walking through it all there was a weird smell sometimes from the stuff, like musty to urine.  Whew!  But it was what he wanted to do and the whole trip was for me.

We walked to Madison Park and Washington Park (thank goodness for lots of benches.)  So many people and lots of dogs. 

One of the many respites along the way.

The Flatiron Building and area which The Hubby loves.

I took this photo of an older gentleman sitting I think in Washington Square Park.  I think it will be a great painting!

Then Sunday morning it was up, breakfast and wait till 1pm for the Allied Artists of American reception at The Salmagundi Club.  I had other walking shoes (a bit dressier) and we walked the .2 miles to the show.  It was just around the corner basically.  

I have to tell you, I one of those kind of people that stay in the hotel, don't venture out very far at all.  My stomach, my nerves, my FEAR does not allow me to do the stuff we did this past weekend.  I felt like an entirely different person, able to handle what was thrown at me.  And I think usually The Hubby and his expectations of stuff and my fear of HIM getting us lost is part of it too, but this time, it was all a breeze.  NO FEAR, a teeny bit of anxiety but really it was awesome!  

THERE it is on the wall at the Salmagundi Art Club, hanging on their walls!  What an exciting feeling.  

This building is over 200 years old guys, incredible and extremely creeky.  There was fantastic art everywhere and this was a once in a lifetime thing for me.  

I didn't win anything but I'm okay with that, I wasn't expecting too but it was an honor to be in the show, truly.  I couldn't be upset with anything.

My Evolution

Look at that face.  Do you think I had any aspirations of being an explorer, a traveler, a rebel!  I think back then I might have.  I do know I was a handful, according to my parents.  They said I would be getting my little hand spanked grabbing for something on a table, but that it didn't phase me as I was grabbing for something with the other hand.  

Mother told me that I was always running off and getting lost and hiding in stores.  It got to the point that she decided one day in the Sears store she was going to teach me a lesson.  That lesson, was to let me get lost where she could see me, but I could not see her.  That little lesson scared me for life, and to this day I have a horrible fear of getting and being lost.  I know she meant well, but this little prank made a mark that has taken a lifetime to try to over come, and not successfully.  That fear has morphed into a fear of not wanting to get into trouble or get lost.  Hence the fear of airport security sort of like a principal's office, not that I've EVER was in that kind of trouble.

Two days before my little sister was born (I was 3 years old and brother was maybe 16 months) I climbed up on a television that was sitting on a high cabinet and pulled it over on myself.  My first stitches, and you can sometimes still see the scar in my eyebrow.  I don't think my brother or sister had too many, if any stitches, broken bones or sprains in childhood, but I certainly did.  I even have a huge scar cross-ways on my tummy from sliding off the back of a car onto a metal license plate which slit my belly open.  That only took a home visit from the doctor (they did that back then) and band aids to hold it all together, no stitches.  I could swing really REALLY high on the swings and jungle-gym bars, not afraid of falling at all.  When does fear start taking hold?  Where does fear come from and why in some people does it become a problem and for others not influence them at all.  Very curious that question.  

Look at those big brown innocent eyes.  That's my first grade picture and when the big fear thing started coming on.  That's when we had to move to Arkansas for daddy a job.  The move was scary and I had to leave my friends and my favorite teacher, Mrs. Rhodes.  Making new friends was difficult and my first teacher there was a WITCH or BITCH if you want.  She was forced into retirement the next year and there were good reasons why.  I watched her wash a boys mouth out with soap in the classroom (we had our own bathrooms in the room.)  She would paddle, and I mean PADDLE in front of the classroom.  I never wanted to get in trouble in her class for sure.  That would break you and I think she did break a lot of children.  I wet my pants in front of the whole classroom while standing at the chalkboard, just because I asked to go to the bathroom one day, and then had to ride the bus home with urine soaked clothes.  I went from having the nicest, most wonderful teacher ever, to the worst teacher that year.  Plus I was witness to my parents struggle financially and with their marriage.  I know sister was too young to remember and brother may remember some but he was only 4.  The school bus ride alone (my first time for that) was kind of harrowing because we rode the bus with all ages, from 1st grade to 12th.  Those boys were mean, MEAN!  

Living in Arkansas allowed us to meet all kinds of different people and experience family lifestyles that were totally different than ours.  Lots of poor people, more poor than we were for sure.  My friend Sharon from up the road and around the corner was from a family of about 8 kids.  They had no electricity or running water, but they did have a pet raccoon.  That family was as good as gold though and she was my savior on those bus rides back and forth to school.  This was also a time when my daddy got sick.  They really didn't know what was wrong with him but he was CRAZY, and Momma just couldn't cope.   She even left him and Granddaddy made her go back, telling her that Daddy was sick, that he needed her.  This was after we finally found out what was making him so sick.  

I have a very vivid memory of us being at my Granny and Granddaddy's house, the house my father lives in now, and where I basically grew up.  The memory is of my father sitting on their bed, that is now his bed, and him sobbing in his hands, SOBBING.  I had never seen my father cry before.  I don't know if it was because he found out about his illness or if it was from mother leaving him, but he was crying.  

We moved back to Oklahoma for him to have surgery, as a family.  Daddy had a benign tumor on his thyroid gland and he had 2/3rd's of his thyroid removed.  They basically cut his neck from ear to ear to get it out.  I remember going with him to the doctor visits and that he had to stay on thyroid medicine for the rest of his life.  The tumor, even though benign, did a nasty job on his emotions.  He was up high, high, high and kind of mean, and then down, down, down.  At times through the years we could tell when he didn't take his medicine but after awhile he never missed a dose, thank goodness.  

So we were back to Oklahoma.  I didn't live with my family during the week because we didn't have the money for a house yet, and Momma needed help with us, and Daddy.  I stayed in our small town with Granny and Granddaddy during the week so I could go to school, while my brother, sister and parents stayed with Grandma and Grandpa in the country.  I started the second semester of 2nd grade at my old school and I had to remake friends, yet again.  Luckily I had another great teacher but I certainly struggled, and by third grade I was nearly kept back if it weren't for my teacher, mother and the principal.  As I am writing this down I am now seeing what those years did to me.  I am realizing all these upheavals took a major toll and changed the course of the person that I started out to be that fearless, gutsy little girl.  

I was a much quieter person who struggled internally with just being around people.  Honestly 3rd grade was so hard for me in all kinds of ways, so much so that I don't have any memory of even being in the classroom with Mrs. Nolan.  That's very strange because I have memories of every classroom I was ever in, except for that one.  I almost have a dark hole there in my memory.   I didn't even have friends then but 4th grade rolled around and we got new neighbors, and my world got brighter.  Jean Ann and Mike, twins, moved in next door and the fun began.  

From the moment they moved in next door Jean Ann and I became inseparable.  Oh my goodness we had so much fun, and she was a bit of a bad girl, a happy-go-lucky kind of girl, like I used to be.  It was a breath of fresh air.  My, I miss her so much.  Jean Ann's life turned out to be so tragic, but I won't go into that here.  We had about 3 years of great childhood fun and joy before my world again came crashing down.  

Have you ever wished for something and it came true.  October of my 6th grade year (it's funny that my life is not calculated by years, but by grades in school), just before Halloween, my wish came true.  You see (I've written about this before), at school, we had been playing a lot of hopscotch on the sidewalks at recess.  My aunt was babysitting my brother, sister and I (her first and last time for us) one evening while Momma and Daddy went to a school something.  I really I didn't need a sitter, but they did.  The night before this, sister and I were laying in bed (we shared a bed and bedroom until I got married and moved out) just talking and I made a wish.  I wished I could break my leg because I thought it would fun and cool to walk on crutches.  (Auntie, if you are reading this IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT!  I knew better, I was old enough to know better, IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT!)

I built a hopscotch board in the middle of the living room out of newspapers and Daddy's socks and when it was my turn, I had to take a hugely long jump, but I landed on a newspaper, and that newspaper was like surfing on carpet.  I slammed into the wall at the end of the living room and I BROKE MY LEG!  I got my wish, and let me tell you CRUTCHES ARE NOT COOL OR FUN!  

Those damn crutches ruined my life at that time.  I had no aspirations or desires to do anything or be anybody at that time, I just wanted to have my friends in school and that broken leg ruined my social life.  For one thing IT HURT!!!  The other was that I could not go to school.  I was out of school until January of the next year.  I didn't finish the semester in the classroom, but my teacher was my tutor and I stayed up with school work because she came to the house once a week and helped me stay a part of the class.  I passed with straight A's.  What I did miss out on were my friends.  At that young age memory and friendship are fleeting.  Because I could not be around Jean Ann everyday anymore, she moved on to other friends, and I was just not a part of her growing social life anymore.  Jean Ann was a friend, but we weren't besties anymore.  I lost my friend, my happy, my joy, and the loss continued on to the junior high years, the WORST YEARS OF MY LIFE, YET AGAIN!   

It's funny, I tried to find some photos of my junior high years and I only find a few of me  

Yep, those are bell bottoms that Momma made. 

This picture I think I'm turning 13.  That's me all the way to the right.

Junior high years, ages 12-14 when puberty raises it's very ugly head.  I had no friends by the time 7th grade started and Jean Ann all of a sudden began to DEVELOP and I mean develop, so did I, but my personality had been beaten down with the broken leg fiasco.  She became extremely popular and I did not.  In JH you went to different classrooms and we were also segregated into sections.  Jean Ann was section 7-3.  I was section 7-5, the lowest one with some of the nerdiest, most unpopular, quirky people.  I can distinctly remember standing in the hall holding up the wall, trying to become the wall in between classes when a girl came up to me an started talking.  Her name was Sharon and Sharon became my life-line out of becoming that wall.  We became best friends and still are to this day with about a 20+ year break...lol.  Junior high, especially 9th grade, again I will say was horrible.  I don't even know how I got through school except for Sharon and art class.  9th grade brought my period, huge boobs, boys, my first kiss, my first formal and a chance to take a trip.  

Do I look happy or scared.

My art teacher Mrs. Sue Brown taught me so much.  I took her class 7th, 8th and 9th grade and don't know why I didn't go on in high school.  The summer after 9th grade was finished I was given an opportunity to go on a dig.  I loved Archeology and wanted to be an Archeologist at that point (or a veterinarian).  Mrs. Brown gave me some info on participating in a dig somewhere in southeastern Oklahoma, WITHOUT MY FAMILY.  OMG, I wanted to go so badly, but was scared out of my mind about doing it by myself.  I had never been away from my parents except to stay in Jay, Oklahoma with my greatgranny or at granny and granddaddy's overnight.  I just could not get my brave on to do it.  But you know what, I don't think I even asked my parents about it to even see if they would let me go.  Possibly it was money but in reality it was probably because I was scared, scared to death, and that feeling has persisted in my life since then.  Oh, I've ventured off a few times in my life but it takes a lot, A LOT of bravery for me to do it.  

By the time high school rolled around I was just the same old wallflower kind of person, but a wanna-be-hippy.  Oh man, I wanted to go to Woodstock so bad, but that desire was certainly kept hidden and I just recently verbalized it.  The people who attended were definitely not my kind of people...they were rebels, druggies, free-spirited and much older but that didn't stop my desire to go.  I was a wanna-be hippy, a faux hippy.  

I grew my hair long, wore bell-bottom hip-hugger jeans, no bra and a bikini occasionally.  I like acid rock music, actually all kinds of music (without the acid).  I pretty much just rolled along all through high school and graduated with decent grades, lots of dates and a bit of experience in kissing.  Fell in love and cried a lot of tears, lot's of tears but it was okay, I survived without becoming the wall again.  

But I knew that I had no future.  I had no hopes or any idea of going to college and without really trying in high school I knew that the only thing for me was working for my father in the machine shop, getting married, and have kids.  I was stuck in that town with absolutely NO FUTURE but I still had deep-seated hidden desires and dreams, but I lacked the knowledge, bravery, or support to attain those dreams and desires.  

I dated a bit but one guy called back the next day after an impromptu meeting.  Usually, I would have a date, and because I had boobs they thought that I easy but found out pretty quick, I WAS NOT!  Just because I had boobs does not mean I want that.  So they never called back, but The Hubby, well, he called the next day, the next, the next, the next...and now 43 years later...I think he's sticking around!!!

My dreams have changed for sure.  I did get married and have kids but I found new dreams to make happen.  

I went to college and got a degree.

Without planning on it I've sort of fell into a new dream, to become an artist.  At first it was just to deal with the loss of Momma, Gail (my best friend), our dog, being an empty-nester, turning 50, and more,  but as I developed the art connections, got better and found out what I could do with art, well, slowly I made new goals.  

I wanted to be accepted as an artist, to be recognized among my art peers here locally and nationaly.  I've had a magazine article done locally on me.  I've won ribbons!!!  That was exciting because I've never won a ribbon for anything.  I've entered some shows that were a jury process and got in, local ones.  And now I've entered in a couple of national ones, and GOT IN!  That was a biggie for me.  There are a few more goals or dreams in this art journey but one thing at a time.  

At first I was afraid to enter in these national shows because I MIGHT HAVE TO GO to them, but I just bit the bullet and did it and thought, well, I'll figure it out if it happens, and it did!  I got in and I AM GOING to New York with The Hubby.  I probably won't win anything but I already won by be accepted into the show.  It will be an awesome experience and I may never get the opportunity again to experience it, so why not go.  Yeah, look at me strike out.  

I'm slowly overcoming my fears, even if I backslide occasionally, that's okay.  One step, one flight at a time.  Here I am at 63 years of age and I'm making some new dreams come true.  You are NEVER too old, trust me, NEVER!  

Fear No More

Wednesday morning and here I am yet again sitting very early looking through my WINDOWED office.  It is quite wonderful but alas, the skies are gray and stormy looking.  Yesterday I went to art and finished that painting finally and have promptly given it away to the lady from which the window came from.  Yes, I think I could have sold it with no problem but she is getting married (sometime) and I wanted her to have it.  The response on Facebook was AMAZING so I will probably sell some giclee's (prints).  My painting buddy, Linda and I took off early from art to drive 10 paintings (3 mine, 5 hers, and 2 Peggy's) to Muskogee for a show that starts this week through Sunday.  I had never driven to Muskogee and brings me to part of the reason for my writing this morning.  

Fear, yes fear I say is no more for me, or least most of it.  I'm not sure if it's confidence, age, or just doing stuff over and over to over come some of my fears.  Let's take driving to Muskogee, usually that would have made my stomach be in absolute knots.  In fact so bad that I might have been in the bathroom a lot but as it turned out I just didn't get that feeling of fear yesterday, not one time.  It's like when I drove to Oklahoma City last fall for that art workshop with my friend Linda and absolutely NO FEAR where as several years ago when I had to drive through there to Lawton I actually had to stop outside of OKC to change my underwear.  That is how debilitating my fear was for driving to the unknown.  Now if I was faced with driving to Dallas or Kansas City, that might be a bit of a challenge but I think I could do it.  This Mediterranean Cruise this art group is taking next fall would tend to put me into a panic, especially when it's not planned by a person that does that kind of thing for a living.  One of the ladies going has done it all and I'm OKAY with that.  I'm actually looking forward to it all without fear, well a touch but mostly none.  Yeah.  Now while we are there we are going to the Amalfi Coast and Positano to be specific.  Positano, as in Under The Tuscan Sun.  If you've seen the movie, there are buildings out of the sides of cliffs and cliffs means mountainous areas and heights and FALLLLLling.....  One of my worst fears but I want to go there SOOOOO bad that I am overlooking that.  The Hubby has given me grief about this fear and actually told me that he hoped that I don't have a hysterical meltdown in front of them.  Really, well Mr. if I do I can't HELP it.  It just happens to me, it's called a PANIC ATTACK.  My FRIENDS told me that well, wouldn't you rather have something like that happen when you are with friends that can HELP you through it.  Yes, I would thank you.  But really, I think if I can get my head wrapped around it I can overcome like I have with this other stuff.  I know I can with SUPPORT, the key work Mr.

FEAR NO MORE

Weather

Rain, rain, rain.  I'm kind of loving the rain we are getting here in Oklahoma right now and goodness knows we have needed it.  I'm afraid though that my hard work on Friday is all for naught.  It might just wash away but I can always replant if need be.  Early this morning a rumble woke me from a dead sleep and my first thought, because the whole room jiggled, was an earthquake.  I have been reassured by the weatherguys that it was thunder and not an earthquake, but goodness me.  I just rolled over and went back to sleep! 

When I was a kiddo I used to be terrified, absolutely terrified of thunder and rain and hail and wind. 

If the wind blew I would start shivering and my stomach would knot. 

If I heard raindrops on the roof and I was dead asleep I would instantly be awake and start the quiver in my belly.  We had a little pomeranian mix, Bunny, that would know to come to my bed because I would be awake, and shivering.  I ruined that sweet dog, making her scared of storms too.  I used to say that if there was a tornado, and it hit our house, you would find me on the toilet somewhere. 

 In sixth grade I did a report for school on weather and it helped me to understand a lot about it, and now I am a nut to watch the weather reports on TV.  The past few years I've come to realize that I'm not scared anymore, at least of the common rainstorm.  Now if the sirens are going off and the weather-people are saying take cover, well, I'm that quivering mess again, and theirs that toilet thing again.  But, all in all, I'm now okay with rain and thunder and lightening.  I've overcome a fear I would say, wouldn't you.