post randomly

I had the worst time tonight. My husband drove me to the store to shop for groceries. He was really tired, having just gotten off work, so I was to run in, get whatever we needed, an run out. No big deal. It would take me about a half hour.

So, the husband drops me off by the door, and says he’ll be waiting near the entrance. I get everything done in a pretty timely fashion, happily find some new products that might be good to try, and get down to the last thing on my list, some stomach medicine (always important when there’s a celiac living in the house). Can. Not. Find. It.

Spend a half an hour looking for this stupid medicine, and finally give up. Lines are a little longer than expected, but that’s okay. I get outside, and I don’t see the car. Anywhere. There are two exits – one for the grocery section, and one for the other half of the store. It is 24°F outside. I check both doors. I don’t see him. I start down each aisle. I was expecting to jump in an out, so I don’t have any gloves or a scarf. My hands get to cold to push the cart which, by the way, has a squiggly wheel.

I finally think maybe he’ll realise I’ve been gone too long, and run up to the front to find me, so I wait. I’m waiting by the wrong exit. I keep going in cycles. Waiting, looking, waiting, looking. A woman walks by and asks me if I’m okay. I explain to her that I’m fine – just looking for a car – but I have a hard time talking, because my face is frozen stiff. I can’t feel my fingers anymore, and I’m starting to shake and feel dizzy. It’s a combination of the cold, an panic, an I know that, so I’m telling myself to keep it together.

Two hours go by. Two hours! of this hanging around in below freezing weather (mind you, I’m a southerner – I get chilled in 60 degrees!), and I still can’t find the car!

I finally go inside and ask a customer service person if I can leave the cart with them while I go on an all out search for the car. (The bright orange car, which should not be too hard to find you’d think!) I’m stammering and losing track of what I’m saying so much, the poor guy at the counter isn’t sure what to do.

“Whatever you need!” he says, but his face says holy crap, crazy woman!

“I’m just looking for my husband,” I say, and then, “There he is!”

My husband looks distressed and disheveled. I see circles under his eyes from twenty feet away. I run to him. We’re both relieved and pissed off at the same time.

As we get to the car, he starts up in kind of a scolding way.

“No arguing.” I tell him.

“I was right here the whole time! I had no idea what happened to you!”

“No arguing. I’m cold. Can’t feel my fingers. Want in car now.”

It takes me the whole trip home to warm up in the car; I’m frozen to the core.

He’s trying to tell me, “I’m never just dropping you off like that again.”

“Yes you are,” I say, “You’re dropping me off like that again, and you’re turning on your cellphone so I can call you and ask you where in the world you parked.”

I think we finally came to some kind of agreement where, either I’m right, or he’s right but I’m stubborn. By the time we got home, we were all sweetness and hugs, but something about this horrible evening just bummed me out for the rest of the night. Lord, I’m glad to be home at least.

It’s finally here. The past couple of years have been personally monumental for me. 2008 was the worst, in which I lost my mom. In 2009, I said good riddance to the year past, and it was a symbolic moment of change. In 2009, I learned to cope, grew, and forced myself to become the artist I had always said I wanted to be, but had never really put forth the effort.

Last night, I brought the new year in the same way lots of people did: I partied with friends, and possibly drank a little too much for me. At this moment, I’m thinking about giving up drinking altogether – not because I have a problem, but because, even as a seldom, and fairly light drinker, I always get sick to my stomach, so my body obviously does not agree with alchohol.

This is a year of continuing what I start in 2009, and shaping myself into what I want people to see when they see me; A mature, capable woman, a painter, and a friend.

A friend of mine (not a close friend, but better than a mere acquaintance) saw my last painting (http://www.43things.com/entries/view/4384429), which I also posted on facebook, and sent me an email to commission me for a project.

So, a couple of really neat things came from this: One, my first commission! Yay! An two, her assertion that she would like to fill her house up with my art some day – How cool is that!? If she loves my art, there must be other people out there who feel the same way she does, in which case, I have an audience!

I never made it a specific goal here, but when I first started painting, I told my husband, “By the time I’m in my thirties, I’d like to be good enough, and have enough work finished, to be able to show my paintings in galleries.”

Could it be this is really a possibility?

43T kicked me out for a while! It kept saying my password was wrong. But it wasn’t! (And I know, because my password is automatic in my computer)

Anyway, I thought Maybe it’s just a sign I need to quit, because I’m too addicted, or maybe I need to make a new account. So, I made a secret new account on another email. Ha. An then I didn’t really use it at all, an then today, miraculously, I got back in the system. Amazing! I’m glad to be back.

It seems to me that people feel pressured to feel a certain way at Christmas time. If they aren’t feeling warm and magical, they think they’ve missed something; something is wrong with Christmas, or worse, something is wrong with them. I think this leads to a lot of the holiday blues I sometimes see, and the rise in depression of those who are prone to anxiety or negative moods to begin with.

To those of you out there who might run across this, or who are my regular friends on this site, I hope you take the time to breath this season, especially on Christmas day. Remember that it is okay to be yourself. You are not obligated to see miracles or feel magic today. It will be nice if you do, but it’s not required. Allow yourself to just feel peace in the fact that you are alive, and tomorrow is another day with just as much possibility as the one before it.

It isn’t that I don’t think Christmas is, or can be a special time, but if it happens to feel like any other day, maybe that can be a blessing in an of itself. It’s a good reminder that, actually, yes, it is just another day, and therefore if you feel you have missed out on something, it isn’t your last chance. You can feel good tomorrow, and the next day, too. You can have your own personal holiday if you want, any day of the week. So breathe, my friends – and if the Christmas spirit isn’t kicking it with you this holiday, let your own spirit rise.

Happy Christmas Eve!

I think Christmas Eve becomes a bigger holiday than Christmas when you grow up. That’s when all of the family stuff happens, for me anyway. I logged onto Facebook, and everyone is wishing everyone a Merry Christmas already. I guess because most of them won’t be online tomorrow. They have better stuff to do…

I’m giving my husband a present tomorrow, and then the rest of the day is slow and free. Hubs said he’d like to go see a movie. I feel sorry for the people who have to work in the theater Christmas day, and I’m not sure if I want to go because of that. Then again, they are getting paid over time, and they are there, regardless of if I decide to go or not. And Sherlock Holmes is out, and the husband wants to see it. I not only love Sherlock Holmes as a character, but I think Robert Downey Jr. is one of the hottest guys ever, so in that aspect, it’s a win-win.

That sewing machine I knew I wasn’t going to get for Christmas is most likely be sitting in the living room with a ribbon on top. I have very little patience! Not only do I want to knock the colorful bag with my name on it over right this second, I want to call my husband, tell him to rush home from work as quickly as possible, and empty the stocking I hid for him under the Christmas tree. We even wrapped up little gifts for the dogs. I’m sure I’ll hold out…

I hope everyone else out there is having a pleasant time that continues through the season. Merry Christmas, everyone who celebrates it, and a good day to everyone else! :)

mulya

I took a picture of this tiny cardboard model of a computer that I made for my mom-in-law. The family is pitching in and buying her a computer, because she really needs one (she runs a business, and her old one is 16 years old!). We made the decision to get one too late for it actually to be shipped in time, so this tiny one is her Christmas present placeholder. I’m sure she’ll be a little confused when she opens it, and then happily surprised!

The picture on the “screen” is one I stole. I feel guilty, because that’s someone else’s art, an I don’t know who to attribute it to. I didn’t feel all that guilty until I decided to share a picture of the mini-computer, because now it’s online, and it’s stolen. As an artist, I would only be mad at someone stealing my work if they took credit for it and/or got paid for it, and I’m not doing either. I hope that’s sufficient.

I put a new picture up as my icon. It’s a picture I took after cutting my own bangs… something it may turn out I shouldn’t have done, because it’s very uneven, but I was tired of trying to figure out what to do with them while they were hanging in my eyes. Nothing seemed to work! I was tempted to photoshop out the dark circles under my eyes so I don’t look like I’m on drugs, but I was born that way. Haha.

My sister is buying an expensive gift for my dad and his wife this year. Her reasoning – we’ve never really done anything special for them for the holidays. I think she’s feeling that “one parent left” thing, and wanting to make the best of it.

My husband and I are contributing to the gift, which is a relief to me, because I wasn’t sure how to handle them this year. I am still angry – not so much that my dad didn’t come to my wedding, but that the way I found out he wouldn’t be there was through an email from my step-mother, the night before the wedding. Not a card, or a phone call; no congratulations; no “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

I feel like I have to choose my battles, and trying to get my dad to show any signs of caring would be a waste of energy. This gift seems like begging for attention to me. I’m not saying that’s how my sister feels, but coming from me, it doesn’t seem sincere, and that makes me feel bad. I wish I didn’t have these mixed feelings.

So, the husband and I decided the whole family needed a nap, and we took the puppies into bed, and all fell asleep together. When I finally dozed off, I dreamed I was preparing a food of some sort. I don’t remember what it was – just that I was making it pretty, and squeezing some sort of condiment out over the food. Only when I woke up, I was not squeezing a bottle, but a tiny dog. Buttercup was not pleased.

but I have to complain somewhere anyway.

First of all, yes I’m aware that fast food restaurants are the devil. Having said that, I still have a burger at one a couple of times a year. I can’t eat the bread, or mayonaise – I just have the burger, cheese, and other toppings.

However! Twice my husband has stopped at Wendy’s on his way home from work, and asked what I wanted, and I ordered a bacon cheeseburger. The first time, it was this crazy three burger, triple bacon stack of meat and cheese with no lettuce, tomatoes, or anything! I ate about a third of it, and I don’t remember what happened to the rest. It was gross.

I tried to ask him, without seeming ungrateful, to not get that crazy thing next time. I want a burger with bacon and cheese, and all the regular fixin’s. A bunch of meat just doesn’t do it for me.

So, last night, my wonderful husband brought me home a bacon cheeseburger. I opened the package to see that it had bacon and cheese, and one beef patty – but nothing else! No lettuce, onions, tomatoes, or pickles! I was flabbergasted! Who eats a bacon cheeseburger with no toppings!? Apparently, that’s just how they come, unless you ask specifically for toppings, because D was eating the same thing, and had no complaints. Me, I think it’s crazy. Crazy! What’s the point of a bacon cheeseburger without any fixings? They should just come that way, with stuff on them.

:[

At least now I know.