prints

Celebrating, Ceilings, and Sky Things

It’s all ups and downs, isn’t it? I live in a bubble of beauty and cannot believe it expanded like this. I had seen Julie Tuttle’s painting at the Colden Arts Festival and loved it. I told her the optimal dimensions I wanted the print to be, but it wouldn’t work so instead of a print, I now have an original painting, and it makes me so happy to walk into the office and see this. Thank you, Julie!

I voted early and on the morning of November 5th, I saw the most unusual rainbow in the sky over my home. Boy, did I misunderstand that sign. Luckily, there is free will, a list of goals, and block buttons on social media, so I’ve been busy.

The Halloween decorations were put away and the Christmas boxes came down. Thanksgiving came late and is over but for the soup and last piece of pecan pie. The first batch of fudge is made and soon to be cut. I was supposed to have the holiday letter written by now, but there was a whole night lost until the Hazmat unit arrived then left the house. During all of this, I’ve been worried about Husband and the tests he has coming up. He’s helping me ignore the things I cannot change by beginning the long-delayed ceiling repair, so the goals I set have to navigate an obstacle course along with me and the never tired-out dog. It’s fun!

I mean, making art is hard enough – especially when you’re in the minutia – trading one word for another, considering a comma here or there or none, paragraph place switching. It’s too easy to pull out just enough to see your own insecurity, not the progress in the prose. From there, all it takes is seeing a “there” for “their” and I am disparaging my entire writing career and for having ever learned English.

From that whiny position last week, I began receiving remarkable news.  

First, many thanks to Yung Painkiller, the photographer who captured the pre-election happiness and peace in a picture of me and Kim Chinquee. In September, I attended An Evening with Percival Everett, part of the Buffalo Humanities Festival. He read from his novel, “James.” Congratulations to Mr. Everett for winning the National Book Award. Thank you, Kim, for inviting me and sending along the picture which is part of the event album!

Another huge thank you to Kim Chinquee for nominating me for the Pushcart Prize. That email arrived on a dark night when I was rethinking all my writing. I’d written to a friend about it and after fetching an envelope, I received that incredible nomination that was so kind and lovely, I cried.

But wait, there’s more. Barely had I received that honor, when another one arrived. Geoffrey at NUNUM has nominated “Spiders Everywhere” for Best Microfiction. (Here is a link to the interview which also went up this month.) Thank you, Geoffrey Miller! And thank you for stopping by and for the read. I know it can be a rough time of the year, so know I’m in your corner and I’m whispering, “Take care of you.” I hope you hear it.

Cheers!

Meant To Be.

Sunday was exciting for the conversation I had with XO man. The pillows on the couch in the library are still in the position they were when I stretched out and laughed at the shared plight of having an inept dentist. We also talked of music, dance, and cleaning women.

I’d been cleaning the house in anticipation of the novel critique group meeting here tonight. It has corresponded with the ‘so called spring cleaning’ time of year, though I’m not moving the furniture yet due to the still chilly nights. Regardless, “art” has been on my mind a lot recently.

My “style” is eclectic to say the least and as I go along, pieces have to hit me to disrupt the equilibrium I’ve established with the pieces in the house. Monday, I met the newest love of my life.

I had a doctor’s appointment at nine–because even though my insurance card says I don’t need a referral, I can’t see a dermatologist unless I have one, which is a bunch of BS, but that’s for a different post. Anyway, because we have the one vehicle, Husband dropped me off then was going to pick me up on his lunch hour.

Randomly, the Monday I went for a referral, I was also sentenced to an X-ray on my leg, blood work, and an ultrasound. After my appointment, I was able to get the x-ray and the blood work done and walked out of there at ten fifteen. Go figure. I had hours to kill. I went to Café 56 and had a snack while I edited. I was quite content until I felt something and looked over to see I was being stared at by some guy in the corner. I didn’t like that at all.

Flustered, I stayed and worked. I looked out the window and swear I saw Agent Chase crossing the street and enter the antique shop. I leisurely finished my coffee, wondering how far I was going to take this. I calculated that if a fictional character walks out of your head and into the sunlight, you want to pursue, but not so quickly as to scare them away.

Bill paid, street crossed, store entered, I found Agent Chase was gone. I wandered the store after a few words with the shopkeeper. Husband had told me his supervisor, Jody Buttons, owned it. I verified that, then took my time looking at all the interesting things in the shop.

Near the end of my walk around, I came to a framed print. In an oval frame with the glass protruding like a pregnant belly, there was the smuggest, sexiest, slyest picture I’d ever seen. It didn’t remind me of Van Eyck as much as Vermeer but I don’t think it’s either of those. The colors are wrong for both. I looked it over, and there was no price. I asked the merchant, he said he’d have to ask Jody. I told him my husband worked with him, hoping for a better price, When husband picked me up, I told him about it. At work the next day, husband said something about it and Jody said, “That was you?”

I called the shop on Tuesday and Jody hadn’t given a price even he was asked about it three times. Wednesday, at break, Jody walked over and just gave Husband the picture. Jody said he didn’t know whom it was by, but the frame was at least one hundred years old. He wouldn’t take any money for it. Norm was aghast as Jody doesn’t giveaway anything.

So it’s mine now and Husband and I agree, in the event of divorce, it is mine. Right now, it’s hanging on the wall, and I’m even fonder of it though I have to change out and move other pieces around to accommodate this gorgeous thing. Once the novel critique meeting is over, the furniture will move and the other artwork will move to accommodate this newest acquisition.

After I had talked to XO man on Sunday, I got a call on my cell from someone looking for Gail and wanting to make sure she got home safely. Gail is the name of the MC in my current WIP so that freaked me out a little, but without that nudge of the fictional and real blurring at times, I might not have followed a phantom that led to this, new love.

 

pj

Sorry, taking a picture through curved glass isn’t easy, but look at the interplay between the women. Exquisite.

 

 

pi

 

(*These are just my creek side reflections. Your experiences may vary.)