What I've been doing while I've been present, feeling the presence.

Sometimes, apparently, I find myself in a blogging dry spell, during which time I have nothing to say. It is during these dry spells that I am thinking. Some people, who like to use big words, call it being "in a time of discernment."


While I do like big words, and funny words, and all kinds of words, really, I also might describe my times of discernment as periods of "correction." It's kind of like the stock market correcting itself. With me, I'm discerning whether I need to get off whatever wayward path I have ventured down, and why. When it comes to the Painted Groove career path, the discernment is required to determine the worthiness of whatever I have discerned to be my next step.


Or, as one who get kicks out of mangling the English language, sometimes I just need to "confirn" I'm on the right track. Now that I am emerging from my dry spell, I would like to confirn that I have nothing brilliant or life-altering to say. My developing humility may be bad for blogging.

During my latest time-out from blogging, I have been wrestling with how to organize my life -- again. My painted groove has been in transition. I thought, by this point, that I would be in a serious, smokin' groove, with a whole lot of creative time on my hands. During all this newfound creative time, I'd work like a demon. I'm all about the working. But then, my plans never quite work out the way I imagine they should. Should, should, should.

When my newfound creative time didn't become reality, I spiraled off on a tangent. Does anybody else do that? I'm a big tangent goer, from way back. So I've been whirling about, trying to figure out what went wrong with my plan. Then someone smart smacked me upside the head and told me that if I were to "be present" and practice the discipline of "living in the now." Then, somebody else smart said I needed to "be present" and "feel His presence." I didn't even know what that meant. How does that work with multi-tasking?


So I thought about that for a while, and here's the deal: The new plan is to "be present" for whatever it is that I am doing, for that time. And then when it's time for the next thing, or job, or requirement, or commitment, or insane request, I'm working on moving on to thinking about that.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? Only I just learned this radical concept the other day. How can you spend a lifetime not knowing something so simple? What that one very smart person told me is that "being present" or staying "in the now" is a "spiritual discipline." Did he mean that to be a challenge?


Ever since this very smart person told me about this "spiritual discipline," probably knowing all too well that I'm just the type to rise to the challenge if you tell me it's spiritual and a discipline, I've been thinking differently. If it is time to take care of my kids, I do that, and keep it within those bounds -- until it's time to think about art and painting.

LIFE SHATTERING!!! It's so effective. Break it up. Don't make everyone suffer through you reading bedtime stories while thinking about your next money-making venture. Your heart isn't in it. And EVERYONE WILL NOTICE! I'm not talking to you unless I need to be talking to you ... I'm talking to me.


Ever notice how your husband isn't listening to you while he's watching TV or working on the computer or driving or whatever? Can you imagine how that must feel to a little kid? Ugh. I cannot even imagine. I wonder how it feels to a husband when no one is "present" for him?


So never fear. I'm still working up creative proposals, and placing paint orders, and figuring out how to cover the walls of an entire entryway with the 23rd Psalm. I designed some flower arrangements, painted some furniture, transformed a little tiny powder room, in between and after making a whole bunch of peanut butter sandwiches, some pretty awesome carne guisada,
in between braiding some spectacular braided pigtails and getting everyone to soccer, softball and the informational meeting for the Washington, D.C. trip. Oh, and the emergency room. And, best of all, I can confirn that I am not yet insane.

I painted a painting that I loved enough to let people see. I don't even know who bought it. The title of it was "Control is Overrated."


Mary snapped this pic on the way to school one day. Poor thing. Now I have my daughter noticing clouds and marveling at the wonder of it all.

I got some really kickass shoes. And shaved my legs.

I enjoyed this sunset on my birthday. The air was dry and I was happy to breathe it.

There was a spectacular cloudview in Marathon on Sept. 28th.

I got to visit some mountains and combat evil all in the same night.

This flower arrangement really dresses up this nurses' station at Nesbit LRC. I still want to be a florist when I grow up. But before that, maybe I can get a job at Green Gate in the spring.
It's a garden center.

I saw this pillow while shopping at TJ Maxx/Homegoods. I have officially seen it all. You really want one, don't you?

So this is what I've learned and what I've been doing and what I've seen. In all my craziness. I am blessed.

5 Things I Love Today

Ok I know today is Sunday, but this is a list of what really blows my skirt up:

1. Being organized, getting organized. Neatness. That's why I have been such a crazed maniac for the past week. There has been no neatness. I live with four other people who apparently are not interested in the same things as me. And my favorite person on earth just went her own way to find another job. sniff, sniff. Pass me a tissue.

2. Getting stuff done ... GSD. Nothing makes me happier than a lightbulb being put in the light in the pantry.

3. When my honey-do list becomes a priority. This is just plain sexy.

4. The disappearance of clutter. Over accessorization has begun to make me nuts. It is just so unnecessary if it doesn't mean anything to you. If it's something important from an interesting trip or makes your soul happy when you walk by it, great! If not, if it's just filling the space above your cabinets, it's going to make me insane.

5. The thought that tomorrow, Monday, August 24th, will find ALL my children locked safely away in school for the rest of the year. And while they're gone, I can continue to GSD ...

A glimpse into my inner turmoil and/or twisted idiocy

Anyone who's had the misfortune of being withing talking distance of me in the last few weeks knows my cloud job totally traumatized me. It was an awesome opportunity, really overwhelming, and just a big damn job.

This scissor lift saved my life

In preparation, I even took a class with Nicola Vigini to refresh and refine my skills, and make sure I did the job justice. And also, I needed to figure out the most efficient way to accomplish this job on a really tight schedule. Let's just say Nicola makes it look easy. It was waaaaay harder than I expected. Still, I finished the job and got paid. So why am I still freaking out about it? How many times can I use I in that paragraph for God's sake?

It did not turn out the way I imagined it in my mind. At least to me. The client was happy. The builder was practically sweeping me out the door and loading my truck for me. Now, everywhere I go there are clouds. You know, like in the sky. But that's not all: I see them on every TV show, pieces of junk mail, in the grocery store. They're everywhere, damn clouds. And I'll never get away from them. They're pretty much part of my atmosphere. Yours too, probably.

They didn't photograph exactly great either.

Being an artist is not all fun and games. You have a vision of what you want to accomplish, and sometimes you don't get it to turn out just the way it looked in your head. Sometimes the builder says you have to finish today so the lighting can be installed and the floor can be grouted. Stupid details like that. I would have farted around perfecting that damn entry way for another week. I might even have screwed it up somehow. But still, I wanted it to be perfect.


My smart friend Wendy says I'm just suffering from my own unreasonable expectations. I met the client's expectations, so get over it and move on. Easy for her to say. She's my friend that forced me to knit. She taught me to knit left handed, like her. I'm right handed. She knits all sorts of pretty scarfs and baby blankets. At our last Knit Night at Chiro Java, after I had been working on the same sofa throw for at least one and a half years, I tore out every stitch of it and rolled up all that fabulous baby alpaca yarn into balls. It was just too hideous.



In this case, there's really no arguing with me that this was one hideous throw. It's a pretty damn hideous picture of me, too, come to think of it. All the other knitters at the table were about to wet their pants laughing at me and my hideous creation.


So I guess the lesson I'm supposed to be working on has something to do with perfection. And until I figure out what the lesson is and conquer this obstacle, I will not be satisfied, dammit.