clickmom

38

I finally got my act together for printing yesterday.  The first couple of prints were easy, that dedication page and a single black and white image on the opposite side. I was thrilled.  But then I was in trouble because I had to put more than one image on a page and I was trying to do it with multiple passes through the printer and the pages were not lining up the same each time they went through.  I was near panic mode when I took a deep breath in and messaged the instructor who showed us some software that would do the trick for me last summer.  Bless his sweet and incredible heart, he got back to me within a couple of hours and even sent me a link so I knew where to download it from.  Now I am in business (with only a slight other hair pulling episode when I couldn't figure out how to print specifically for the paper I am using and was getting terrible results-alas, I managed that one on my own) and am working on the fourth of 21 sheets.  Some are single sided and some are double, so my OCD mind can not be soothed by figuring out percentages of work complete.  I'm just going to take a step away from crazy town and settle for knowing how many sheets complete I am.  Yeah.  Go me, go me!!   Getting the job done and leaving obsessive behavior behind! 

I feel bad for sweet pea here in utopia.  I think she is mad at me because she doesn't really get to play with other dogs here and I haven't been walking her as much as usual either.  Also, there are bunnies, foxes, skunks, and turtles walking around the property and they are driving her insane.  She is jumpy and barky and generally not as mellow as she usually is when I exhaust her by hiking every day and she gets lots of social time and exercise in.  Last night she wouldn't come up to my room to go to sleep, instead she sacked out on the living room couch, which on the one had was kind of nice for actually sound sleeping but on the other hand I do like our morning cuddle sessions.  

My goal for the day is to get half way through printing the book, 11 pages would be heavenly, 10 is acceptable, I'll take whatever I can manage to get done since I do have to pay attention to Josh and do motherly crap like feed him and write his name on all of his camp clothes, even though I know only half of them will be returning at the end of next month.  I wish moms could go and pack our own kids at the end of camp, because I am pretty sure no one wants his damp and grimy XXL clothes anymore than I want their puny sized damp and grimy clothes. Last year when I went to pick him up he didn't even remember he had flip flops, despite the fact that he wore them the day he went to camp.  We found one, and seriously, what is some other kid going to do with size 14 (that was last year's size, now he's a 15) flip flops?  The other flip flop was no where to be found, I can only assume that someone accidentally threw it into his duffle bag a week earlier when that group went home and that the kid's mom did not have the decency to mail it back to camp. Grrr.  You know how much size 14 sandals cost? That is not the kind of thing you can pick up on the fly.  That's why internet shopping has saved my sanity, but it's a full priced retail kind of save, not the discount kind.  

39

I'm pretty sure that CNN and IBM are not reading my blog, but on the slim chance they have googled their way over here....

I don't stay on websites which make me watch commercials before every video.  My time is too precious.  Also, I just want to put it out there that if they show me the same annoying commercial for their Watson MRI what evers and aggravate my genius level intellect by reminding me how inaccurate MRIs are because actual human technicians have to read thousands of images to get a result (And what the freak is up with the creepy close ups of eyeballs?  Did I really need to see a pupil contract?) then I am way less likely to find myself strapped down in an MRI machine, since the company which makes MRIs has just told me how unlikely it is that what ever ails me will be seen by the overworked technician with the human eyes. AND I have fabulous insurance, so don't you want me to get an MRI? Okay IBM? CNN?  Moderate the amount of ads.  And IBM, way past time for a new ad company, because also, the soundtrack?  That strange thumping noise?  Does not sound like a cure, it sounds like getting sick, and that is not the association you want.

rant over

In other news, we have had some serious rain here in utopia and it makes me nervous about floods.  In 1955 there was a horrible flood which affected a good deal of New England and I just mentioned it to Josh who said it might be time for another one and now I have been stuck in the house for 2 days listening to the rain battering the roof. The lake is as high as I have ever seen it, it's kind of cold for summer, we have a "not cool in flood situations" walk out basement, and I just wish I could go outside and restore my vitamin D levels.

I decided to be obnoxious this morning and allow sweet pea to bark at the fishermen who float annoying close to our dock, leaving their fish hooks dangling from our bushes when they get stuck in the branches and can't be reeled back.  A nice relaxing canoe ride will take care of that.  I have a little collection of rusty fish hooks with pokemon floating balls and nasty gummy worm baits in the shed.

Other than raining fishermen I am great.  My first new town friend who moved away a year ago came up for a visit and her kids and Josh fell right back into place, and she and I fell right back into place and we had a totally lovely 24 hours.  But now I am ready to get back to work with my book, which I have been planning in my head so as not to make any mistakes and waste any precious over priced two sided photo paper. Right now I am trying to decide how I am going to thank all of the people who participated in my graduate education, should I name them all or just give a general shout out?  I feel like if I name them all I will forget someone and be upset about it, so I think I will do the gracious and tasteful general shout out.  I also want to thank my three classmates who were (are ) my friends but left the program and are still in my life and I miss so much.  I suspect that is not going to go over well with the program director, but I am going to do it anyway.  It's my book and once I dance away from campus with my diploma in hand I am on my own anyway, so whatever.  

I still have to find time to get a tiara to wear to graduation.  It's going to be my thing.

43

So, here is a text you don't want to get from your 18 year old who is at camp preparing to be a camp counselor:  

"Hey can you text me my insurance information?  I'm ok don't worry haha"

What, me worry?  I was freaking out!!!  And worst is that there is barely any cell phone reception in utopia so my texts were taking ages to send.  He said he thinks he only needs one stitch in his finger.  Did I mention that the camp kids haven't even shown up yet?  I'm waiting to hear from him, he was on his way to an urgent care center.

I finally strapped myself to the chair yesterday (figuratively) and made some serious progress on my thesis.  As soon as I hit publish on this post I intend to polish off the current version enough to have it proofread by the goddess who I have hired to proof read for me.  Typos anyone?  Bad grammar?  Apparently me!! 

I saw some samples of my prints this morning and I was so happy I was practically giddy.  I was a little worried they might be too small, but they are most definitely not too small.  They will be majestic!  Just like the woods!  Yippee.  Now they just need to be adhered to plexiglass and I will be ready to go!! 

It's pretty hard to get serious about working from utopia, since my computer is up against the window and I sit here hearing people laughing and cajoling on the water.  This is why my the latest goal I set for myself is to give myself two free weeks before my next session to re-freaking -lax!!!  I think I may have forgotten how to relax, except for the two weeks I was completely out of commission with my latest bout of pneumonia, but relaxing while brain dead is not the same thing as relaxing while having my wits about me enough to know that I am finally relaxing.  Hopefully I will be off the antibiotics by then (just got another batch since I am still coughing something fierce) and be able to have a drinky-poo or seven because I deserve to be whisked away to another plane of reality - one where every one is nice because folks, I am the nicest drunk ever.  Seriously, I get tipsy and tell people exactly what I like about them.  

 

Okay, enough procrastinating.  Back to the thesis.

45

I was so happy to hear that thunderstorms were in the forecast for today.  I got out early, took sweet pea on a 2.5 hour walk, grabbed Josh, took him on a few errands and then returned to wait with giddy anticipation.  Sure enough I heard the distant rumble of thunder so I ran outside to hear better and also give sweet pea a chance to do her business before the weather got serious.  I was standing by the water at the the rear of the house when I heard the sound of pouring rain hitting the water.  I looked out and could clearly see the line of downpour heading my way.   I ran to the house and just made it onto the porch just when the rain came down in buckets.  I couldn't see 5 yards away!  It was so perfect.  

It is strange to re-experience the things I love without my sense of smell intact.  I miss the smell of rain and might even name my next book after that if I don't get my smeller back soon.  I don't like not smelling at all.  It makes me very uncomfortable, like I am living in the black and white Kansas after I already experienced the technicolor Oz.  I want more. I want my smeller back.

Thesis time again.  I'm working it.

46

Now, I just had a mild heart attack today when I realized that 46 is the number of days until graduation but not the number of days until I have to have everything completed and ready to hand in.  That number would be 32!!!  oh my goodness.

And yet, I sit here procrastinating.

In a perfect world I could have someone standing behind me with a whip or electric cow prod or baseball bat who had one job and that would be to force me to work a certain amount of time each and every day.  Or until I reached a certain goal.  This evening I am going to get to work on my thesis.  It's gotta be done! 

I wish I could stop whining inside.  I am honestly tired of listening to myself.  Now, being the reasonable adult that I am I do realize that if I want to truly enjoy this summer I would work like a maniac and get it all done pronto and have some guilt free time before school.  I'm just going to keep reminding myself how good it will feel to be done.

Yesterday we got to utopia and within an hour I chipped a tooth and had to drive back to new town this morning and have the dentist fill the chip in with composite. It was especially important because the tooth that I chipped was my front tooth and because it was sharp as a knife and I could feel the edge of the tooth knifing my inner lip every time I moved my mouth.  I was going to get some solid first day work done today.

I told the editor today that my life is pretty much the perfect example of half a century of Murphy's Law.  I am going to laugh it off from now on, and try not to ever make plans again because that hasn't worked for me so far. 

I was going to wait until all of my work is done before I watched the new series of Orange Is The New Black, but last night I was bone tired and brain dead (as I am every night) and watched the first episode.  SO I changed my tune and declared I will only watch one episode a day and it will be my reward for working on my stuff.  

I had a phone call with the good doc today and I told him that I was concerned that tomorrow is my last day of antibiotics and I am still coughing and unable to smell things.  He called in 5 more days of antibiotics for me.  I am going to take them.  I sincerely and publicly apologize to my intestinal tract right now.  I am taking friendly bacteria to counter the effects of the antibiotics.  I hope it is enough.  Right on the bottle of pills it says you can be stricken months after taking them, so I guess I'll be pounding the friendly guys for quite some time to come.

I'm going to drink a whole bottle of champagne when I am done!! (With the work and the school not the series) 

48 and I am nervous

In the next 48 days I have to print my book, a minimum of 3 copies, but I am aiming for 10.  I also have to create the covers and bindings for my book.  I ordered linen and picked up all kinds of binder's board, and glue and screws, and I think I have a really good idea about how I am going to pull this off but I am nervous folks.  I can't hand in a book which is a mess.  I also bought a silk screen printing kit to screen my title and name on the linen cover.  I have never done silk screening before.  Gulp.

And then there is always the reality of my thesis!  And the two other assignments that are due once we get to school, both of which do not come naturally to me.  In this very strange for an artist peculiarity I do not find myself inspired by other artists, or writers or dancers, singers what ever.  And I have to pretend that other people's work got my wheels turning and somehow influenced my work.  But my truth is that I was inspired by my surroundings,  the magnificence of these woods was my inspiration, I needed to capture it.  It didn't have anything to do with something I didn't personally experience.  

Tomorrow I am moving my whole operation up to utopia for the summer.  I was reluctant to move my computer and printer and hoping to get this all over and done with before July, but that isn't going to happen.  What am I gong to do?  Grin and bear it, roll with the punches, suck it up, quit my whining.

This morning I took sweet pea to the woods and we ended up walking with a woman who had two dogs.  After about half an hour we paused at the water fountain to offer the dogs some water.  The other woman's dog found a ball and when sweet pea approached the dog it turned on sweet pea and bit her face, narrowly missing her eye but puncturing the skin right beside the eye with a long fang tooth.  I took sweet pea to the vet, who said that we could go two ways, one would be to knock sweet pea out and put a stitch in it and the other would be to let it close naturally and she will have a little scar.  Scar it is!  I just couldn't bring myself to sign off on another round of anesthesia for sweet pea.  She is only 8 months and has already had two surgeries!  One for being fixed and  one for the removal of her dog sitter neglect head infection less than a month ago.  She is still cute, even if she has a scar.  I might just change her name to scar.  Hopefully this accident spree is over.

 

57

The strange thing about being as sick as I am right now is feeling like I can't imagine what I would feel like if I wasn't sick. For example; the sun makes me feel double awful, clammy and sweaty, woozy and a bit nauseated. But I know for sure I love being in the sun and will actually turn to face it with claims of the sun being a force which breathes life into me on a not sick day. Hard to imagine right now.

My ability to taste is ZERO and all I want is soup. Tonight I got a large hot and sour soup for dinner. I told the husband I couldn't taste it but felt my mouth burning. Evan (mr. hot sauce) was prepared to devour the half I was leaving over but one spoon in declared it insanely spicy and couldn't bring himself to touch the rest.

I really don't have time to be this sick. I've got too much school work to do!

58

Yesterday I started to get nervous when my fever went from 99.7 where it had been for two days to 102.  Evan drove me to the urgent care center, where the doctors are totally from some bizarre otherworld cast of characters that could only be imagined by someone writing for cable television or on public assistance on the verge of becoming a beloved best selling author.  I got the chatty troll doctor, who began diagnosing me while walking through the doorway of the exam room.  She had heard my cough from the hallway and that was all she needed to hear.  She talked 75mph non stop for ten minutes rattling off lists of medications she could give me, shocked that our family didn't own our own nebulizer, and earnestly telling Evan he had to take care of me I was on the border of having full blown pneumonia.  I got two kinds of inhalers, steroids, antibiotics and cough medicine.  That is about 500% more medicine than I am willing to take. I do think I have pneumonia.  I can hear and feel the crinkling noise in my inner right lung after a good coughing jag, so antibiotics it is.  I'll keep the steroids and one of the inhalers (the one with death listed as a common side effect) as back ups.  Speaking of inhalers, what a miracle!!  Holy cow!  One puff and I was like THIS IS A MIRACLE!!  I CAN BREATHE! I CAN BREATHE! 

 

For two nights in a row I had red level disturbing dreams, and people, coming from me, the world's most insane dreamer, red level is impressive.  One dream, I realized while dreaming it, was the third in a sequel of dreams which involve the program coordinator (secretary) for my MFA program.  No idea why my subconscious would bring her into my dream world except maybe that the way I perceive her in reality and the way she presents herself on facebook are at odds with each other and this confuses me.  I can't remember at all what was happening in the secretary's dream (and there is notebook right next to my bed for situations just like this, damn me!) but last night's dream was freaky enough to make this freaky school related trilogy forgettable.  Last night I must have been hearing my congested self laboring to breath because in my dream I was creating the three dimensional pattern of my breath sounds (yay synesthesia!) into something I could hold in my hands.  Also, I must have rolled over or shifted because at some point I was holding two different versions of my own breath sounds and I did not know which one was better for me to apply. I think the deal was I had to choose one or not breathe at all.  One was a scaled looking wing like shape in a translucent indigo color and the other was like silky scarves waving in layers in a deep blue green.  I called one the wing, and one the butterfly in my dream.  I was panicked in my dream which woke me up, and I was bathed in fever sweat and made myself get out of bed and use the bathroom so that when I went back to sleep I had less of a chance in continuing the dream.  And that, I think, was my first synesthesia influenced dream.

But then today my fever was normal for most of the day, until this evening.  So I am pretty bummed.  It rose as soon as I dragged my arse off the couch.  I made myself lie on the couch all day (don't tell Josh I slept through The Life of Brian, I was thrilled he volunteered to watch a movie with me) and no fever.  In all honesty, now that I think about it, I did have to kick off the blankets I have been attached to the last five days right before I noticed the heat rising within  me, so I guess it was just a 6PM kind of thing.  Boo.  

I'm not surprised at all I got sick, my stress was too high since coming back from Matt's graduation, with sweet pea's little head stitches, the husband's hospitalization for mystery illness, Matt being home and feeling bad that he isn't completely and honestly communicating with me,  my arm injury from the fall of winter 2014 totally flaring back up, figuring out my thesis, writing a pretty lame version of my thesis to get in by deadline .... kaboom.  I was bound to self destruct in some way.  I guess getting sidelined with an illness is better than going bonkers in public or turning to street drugs (I only said that because the pharmacist made me give him my birthdate to buy OTC cough medicine-just in case).  I'll take this possible pneumonia and take it down a notch.  Message received. 

I'd like to end on a positive note here and mention that my obliques are going to be totally cut by the time the antibiotics settle in.

63

A super long time ago I happened upon my mom all teary eyed having just finished reading a book.  She told me she was inspired by this book to tell me that after she was gone from this earth I would know she was looking out for me when I found pennies on the ground.  At the time I just said "Okay, Mom" out loud because inside I was thinking something really snarky and mean.  Which leads me to believe (and also hope) that I was still in high school when this exchange took place.  

The truth is that my mom was not mushy and sentimental and the thought that she'd be looking out for me after she was dead instead of in the present (which would have been super awesome)  seemed absurd.  It felt like the whole thing was a probably uninspired shallow gesture on her part.  But it stayed with me because the whole conversation was just that strange, and that is the kind of things we all remember in the long run, aren't they?  I know I remember the things are are extra wonderful, frightening, or strange way more than I am likely to remember an ordinary day when I did ordinary things.  And my otherwise uninterested mother telling me that one day her ghost was going to send pennies (Why not winning lottery tickets, mom??) my way because when she was dead she'd finally have my back really got under my skin ... and into my memory banks.

Anyone (Mitzy?) recall how after grandma died I was convinced that she was messing with my television?  How it would turn half way on by itself in the middle of the night? And how when the husband fought me on it the family room television he was watching while being dismissive blew a picture tube?  And how we went up to utopia and I declared that if that bedroom television turned on in the middle of the night then it had to be real and it did turn on?  Guess what is happening again!  Something strange is going on with my newish (4 years old) television in my new town bedroom! Except I was kind of wondering if maybe it was my dear friend Bob who passed away last October who was doing the trickery.  It just seems like grandma should be farther away from me by now.  (She died in 2008) Right before the TV started to go wonky my trusty alarm clock lost a couple of number wedges, and I just feel like ghosts like to mess with electricity.  So, I sat in my new town bedroom looking at my 1/2 turned on television and I said out loud that I knew someone was with me but I didn't know who and if they could send me a message and make it very clear because sometimes I really need to be hit over the head to understand. Well, don't you know that in the past week I have found a penny on the ground (I think...) every day! Mom? A more typical frequency with which I find and money on the ground might be something more like, ALMOST NEVER.  Maybe three times a year?  I can't even tell you how often because it feels like it never happens at all. Mom?

Now, if I could choose a time in my life to have some moral support and just plain back up it just might be right now. School is enough to drive anyone (an possibly more of my classmates than I already know -I heard stories last night) crazy, another one of my babies is poised to leave the nest and there is a chance I am not taking it lightly, I'm 50 which I hate saying, and the husband's health is fucked up, his job uncertain, selling my fantasy come true utopia... it's all happening at the same time and it is all super stressful and I just keep imagining that poster where there is one set of foot prints in the sand and the person wants to know why god abandoned them in their tough times and god says that those are her foot prints because that is when the person got carried.  Maybe mom is carrying me. The thought that I am being carried is quite comforting, as long as I can hush that other voices my head who screams "You had to wait until you were dead to care?"

Yesterday I was having a long car drive phone chat with the editor and I figured I would entertain her and her scientist (aka:not a believer) husband with my tale of the supernatural. I told them my story and we all had a good laugh about it, and in the back of my mind I kind of thought that now that I said what was going on out loud all the occurrences would stop.  When I awoke this morning television was off, but clock lights were messed up.  Okay I thought, the clock could simply be a goner, it is older than Josh.  As usual, I was up at the crack of dawn and I figured I should take sweet pea (who got her stitches out yesterday, finally!) to the fields before the weekend warriors show up for their soccer games, etc ...  And lo and behold I'm walking on the path around the fields and I look down and what do I find?  drumroll please ..... You know it, a shiny single penny!!

65

Breathing has become an issue for me.  I think it's stress.  Looks like we are going to have put utopia on the market.  There go my dreams of growing old on the east porch in the morning and the west porch in the evening.  I know I have to let go and move on.  I'm trying. It hurts.  My disappointment is tremendous and overwhelming.

But, I am telling myself there are other utopias out there, and there are other utopias that are not outrageously priced, and they'll feel even better.  It's going to be seriously hard to compete with my current utopia.  But shit happens, roll with the punches, take a lude, shut up and stop your whining. (Now I sound like my mother!) 

Whatever.

My more immediate concern is my thesis.  I think I had a breakthrough this morning.  The program director told me "I DO NOT BUY THIS" regarding my last version and I think the part he really wanted me to improve was the reasoning behind why I was in the woods taking pictures.  This was most difficult for me (see paragraph 2- and my mother's attitude towards me expressing any form of dissatisfaction) but during a phone call with peanut I inadvertently blurted out a key answer.  I immediately ran to the computer as soon as I returned home and put it down on text edit.  Then I ran my new intro by the editor (who proof read my earlier version) and she replied with words like "better, shocking, raw and angry."  Go me.  Now I have to pretend I took direct inspiration from a bunch of people (artists, photographers, authors, directors)  in order to make this work even though that couldn't be farther from my truth.  Play the game, just play the game.

Tomorrow is Josh's last day of school.  I am so happy to not have to make the miserable 21-35 minute each way that's going on.depending on the insanity of nutmeg state traffic drive to his school anymore.  Next hurdle for him is successfully transitioning to the local high school.  September feels like a long way away so I am going to put off worrying about that for a bit while I continue to worry about everything else that's going on.

The lottery was huge last night so I bought some tickets.  I got lost in a fantasy about how I could keep utopia and help so many people if only I won the whole thing.  Waking up and hearing that the winner was in another state was a real bummer.