Europe Bound!

In one week I will be flying to Europe. I never thought I would get to make that statement. I always had dreams of international travel, but when my life changed a few years ago and I started living on a single salary, the dream got pushed into the background. I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to afford a trip "over the pond." Well, last fall the dream became a reality! After applying, I was selected to accompany a group of Tillamook High School students on a 10 day trip to Greece and Italy. We are flying into Athens, Greece then taking a ferry to the island of Capri and then on to Rome, Italy. I am most excited to see the artwork and architecture. The only expectations I have is to be totally amazed for 10 days. To be able to experience the wonderful sites that I have only read about. To see people and places that I know will enrich my life. To be able to photograph memories that I can incorporate into my artwork. I am coming back to this blog and will use it to describe my trip and share the experiences I will have. Now to get packed...

My oh my! This blog has been neglected for far too long. New Years Day evening, 2015. Christmas has passed and a new year has come about. Time flies when you are busy living it, doesn't it? Sitting in the quiet of my room, tired from a lack of sleep last night (made it to midnight which is an accomplishment for me.) Trying to think of something ponderous, life-changing or earth-shattering, but tonight those opportunities evade my mind. I only have some simple little thoughts rolling around this cranium. Like the pictures here...Jesus, Mary and Joseph standing among my books full of busyness. They are peaceful and promise the love and miracle of Jesus, compared with my jumbled mess of books and life in general. Hmmm...Me thinks me sees a little lesson here. Also thrown into the mix is a small, sweet figurine of two little girls that are giving it all they have to be festive and ready to celebrate the Season. Their frosty clothing shine in the night as they stand silently every year in their assigned spot. They only have a few days until they go back into their box, where they will "sleep" for the next ten months. They will stay out in the real world for awhile yet as they represent not only Christmas, but the frosty days of January. I keep a lot of my Christmas decorations out during January...snowmen, lighted village, etc. which represent the deep of the winter in addition to Christmas. No "getting it packed up and out" for me. I am much too sentimental, which is both a blessing and a curse. However, at my age I am at peace about it and accept all that I am as that same sentimentality offers the ability to empathize and care. And that, my friends is what it is all about...

It was a Dark and Stormy Night...

About got blown off the road driving home tonight. The rain was falling sideways and the highway was coated with standing water. It's January on the Oregon Coast. We are making up for the dry December we had. Evenings like this call for an early bedtime and a good book, or maybe a movie. Hmmm...dinner and a movie. Homestyle.

It's just another night on the Oregon Coast.

Living w/The Parents Chapter One

I live with my parents. I married at age nineteen, had two children by age 29, was divorced at age 42. After my single parent stage of raising my kids and a cold turn of the economy, I am back “home.” Living with the parents. All two of them. Mom and Dad. I am the child. The child that lives at home. With the parents. I tell myself that I live in a cool “studio” apartment, with my familiar belongings surrounding me. My bed, chair, office, a few knick knacks and pictures, all efficiently placed according to the church of Ikea. In reality I live in my parents family room that used to be a double car garage. I think I won’t dwell upon reality because a studio apartment sounds way more hip than, “Hey, I live in my parent’s garage.”

Don’t get me wrong. I am very thankful to be able to live at my parents. I needed a place to live and they invited me in. It’s not easy for them either. In fact, I think I might be able to write a book about it. I’m gathering material. Some starters:

Nazi Soup

My dad made soup for dinner. It was delicious. Just as I requested, no tomatoes, just beefy hamburger/vegetable soup. Yum. Now when Dad makes something, he expects a critique. He expects you to let him know how much you like it. For example, his specialty is spaghetti. He makes good spaghetti. But lately he has been boasting that every batch is “the best he’s ever made.” So back to the soup. Well, this soup was tasty, but it didn’t have enough veggies in it. A bit too much broth, not enough substance. The next morning I was ladeling some up to take with me work and he mentioned that he was going to add some more veggies. I told him, “Yeah, you better because it’s like Nazi Soup. You know, from the Seinfeld show, the soup that had nothing in it but broth?”

Well, meaning absolutely no disrespect by mentioning the Nazis, I effectively illustrated the problem with the soup. Not enough in it.

By the way, when I got “home” from work today, he told me that there was some Nazi Soup on the stove…with more vegetables.

Ashes to Ashes

 

Traditional day after Christmas burning of the paper and boxes. In addition to the “festive garbage” I decided to burn some of my boxes of documents that I have had in storage for eight years. Copies of checks…statements…old bill receipts…all for Fawcett Creek Farm. My ex-husband and I used to own a dairy called Fawcett Creek Farm. I have kept the papers for all of these years, responsible to the guidelines for retaining documents schedule. I did the right thing. I carried through.

I thought it would be simple…throw the papers on the bonfire and poof…they would be gone. What I wasn’t prepared for was the rush of emotion all of those snippets of paper caused. I found bits and pieces of memories; old Christmas cards that had made their way into the financial boxes. Old contracts and promises. Pieces of our life when there was an “us” and a testament to years of hard work and hopeless dreams. I had to see those papers.  I was left to burn them to keep them from prying eyes and identity thieves. I had to do the clean up. Destroy everything that said both of our names on it. I should have dropped off the boxes on HIS front porch, but I didn’t trust him to destroy them properly. I had to spend two hours reliving the new Honda 4trax we bought our son and paid for. The receipts for the milk that we shipped to the creamery. He should have had to relive those pieces of the past that needed to be erased. Instead it was as it has always been…he got off easy. He just walked over people and walked away. Just start over without a care or thought of the past. Simply a selfish man, who fooled so many for so long.

I watched all of the documents burn and raked and turned over that pile of papers again and again to make sure it all burned. It did…and I felt good…satisfied when it was all over. I felt a bit smug and powerful as I tossed it all away and watched the pieces disappear into bits of floating ash. I controlled the fire and decided when and where to destroy the evidence of our past. Should have did this years ago, but it wasn’t the right time. Now was the time.

The flames died and the ashes were raked into the earth. I got into my truck and drove away.