clickmom

TREES

Last week I entered a photo contest because the theme of the contest was TREES and not only are trees what I photograph, but the truth is that I could probably live happily ever after photographing nothing but trees.  Recall, long time readers (Mitzy), the blog post in which I relayed a story about declaring my "relationship" with a certain little tree grouping because I had photographed it before.  Yeah.  Sometimes when I gaze off into the distance and wonder what kind of old person I am going to be one day the answer is as clear as can be.  I am going to be the strange kind of old person.  Right now I can see myself dressed in some kind of long flowing goth black fairy costume (as long as I have on my beloved hiking boots) conversing with the trees because I have "relationships" with the trees.

Anyways, back to trees.  Since I had to edit my work down to a dozen or so images, I did an initial edit on the computer and then printed out contact sheets to work from.  I cut up the contact sheets in order to be able to gaze upon a single image at a time and then chose from there.  The minimum entry for this contest was 5 images, so I did choose 5, but then I decided to sequence them, as if for a book, since I have books on the brain after my book oriented MFA experience and ended up with a series of 12 and I ended up submitting all 12 to the contest. Then I taped together the tiny little contact sheet images and I really like my new book, but this is what I am thinking.  I'm thinking that instead of making a boring run of the mill book I might do something completely different, like print the images on transparencies, back them with gold leaf, scan them and print them on either super smooth and bright paper or super soft and fibrous paper (will probably do a test run of both) and make them into an accordion style book because I want the viewer to be able to pull the whole thing out at once as if they're walking through the woods saying HELLO to the trees that they have relationships with (like me!) as they head down the path.

Also, I'm having some ideas about how to differently present the thesis work I did.  I think that work would be really interesting if I went in a totally non book way to present it.  If I do rework that book, I will be sure to make a little video and let you guys see it.  I think the crux of that work has to do with how we see a landscape.  I presented sweeping vistas in triptychs mixed with single black and white images for my thesis book, but I want to present the work in way in which it is more obvious that the multi paneled landscapes are not just a vehicle of convenience but imitating the way a viewer would view a landscape by focusing on different aspects from one side to the other.  

When people tease me about staying in the park all morning I always joke back that I try to get my 10,000 steps in before 10AM.  Today... every time I headed back towards the parking lot a new and exciting person showed up and I turned around and did another loop with them and I actually walked an all time high of 13,670 steps (5.9 miles) before 11:15AM.  My feet were pretty tired by the time I got back to the house and also I was hungrier than usual.

I carried my camera, but was too tired to carry the tripod and it was strangely dark this morning after a day of rain, so I ended up not taking any photos despite the very cool light.  Then this afternoon I realized that I just might feel a tad bit under the weather.  As soon as I publish this post I'm heading for bed, where I will cross my fingers and take my temperature and hopefully not be sick because I really do not want to be sick.  I have plenty of time, just not time to be sick. 

I'm a bit disappointed because in my calendar I had Josh's summer camp reunion down for tomorrow and if I was going all the way into the city I was going to take us to my favorite Ethiopian restaurant afterwards and then there was an email from Josh's camp which said the reunion is in December, so no Ethiopian food for me.  I'm bummed.  

slap Apple

At this stressful time in my life all I want to do is get through each and every day one day at a time.  Little things have the extra fun ability to push me perilously close to the edge and this is where Apple is going right now.  Oh yes.  My phone started nagging the freak out of me to update it and I kept pressing later, later later and then the damned thing refused to let me dictate to it, and if you know me, dictating is pretty much how I text because (this is embarrassing) I don't like tapping my finger on glass or putting on my reading glasses if I am talking around the woods, which is when people are trying to text me.  Pretty much half of all of my texts are unintelligible because SIRI and I are mortal enemies and she does just enough for me to not smash her in with a rock, but that is changing every time they FORCE me to update by making my phone not work. Besides, I hear there is a google phone with ....A BETTER CAMERA  and that was pretty much all I had to hear.

Apple went and changed everything and I would like to know why I can't have choices.  I mean, I had no issue with swiping to open my phone but now I have to stand there like an idiot with my finger on the button waiting for the phone to tell me that once again, my finger print is suspect and I have to peck in the code to open my phone when in the old days I would have been half way through reading my face books updates already.  IF IT AIN'T BROKE DON'T FIX IT

Also, if you , like me, just might have a little hand washing OCD then you should know that wet fingers can't open phones and neither can fingers that are swollen after washing three days worth of dishes. 

Also, I love to look how many steps I have taken and apple changed that too.  I like to see the monthly chart, with it's dips (weekends) and peaks (days I go to NY) and now I see today- boom.  That's it. One day, freaking boring.

I would slap Apple if I could slap Apple.

worm like

So.

I sure do cry easy these days and if you knew me before (as in before everyone around me simultaneously crisis-ed) you will know that I historically cried easily (thank you long distance telephone service commercials and Bambi) and the thought of me crying easily-er is just mind blowing, as in, will there ever be a time when I am not crying?  Not many.  That's all.  Current status: My life.

I had a really good sob when I opened the bill from the utopian plumber.  I have an outdoor bathroom that he blows out each fall and gets going again each spring.  When I spoke with him about this fall we talked about the husband's crazy brain diagnosis and also I told him how the guy who does "property management" around the lake tried to rip us off and now I don't want him to be anywhere near our house this winter and he had his own story about the crooked property management guy.  When his bill came in the mail it said I didn't owe him anything and that he just wanted to express his hopes that things get better around here for us.  SOB SOB SOB.  People ask me all of the time what they can do for me/us and I honestly tell them there is nothing anyone can do and then this gesture just brought me to my knees.  I was touched.

I'm sitting around waiting for a moment for when I suddenly realize the medicine for the anaplasmosis is working and I feel more energy than a worm again. (and by worm, I mean the kind of worm that gets washed onto the pavement during a heavy storm and then fried in the sun the next day) My moment has not come yet.  Also, I am totally craving anything chocolate and oranges.  I think this means I need potassium.

queasy, poopy, achy and tired

The other day I looked down and realized that I better keep duct tape near by in case Josh's sneakers fell to pieces.  So I ordered him a new pair of sneakers.  Josh's new sneaks are black, the first ever pair of black ones he has ever had.  When I picked him up from school I almost didn't recognize him with black sneakers on, and I told him so.  He said it was strange for him wearing the new sneakers because he could no longer feel the cracks and bumps in the side way with his feet.  I got shamed.

But then the next day when I slipped on my old favorite hiking boots, I realized that I too could feel every branch and pebble on the path.  Guess I've fallen behind on my foot wear updates for both of us.

I'm seriously starting to stress about utopia not selling yet.  By stress I mean, all out panic.  I just need to rip that band aid off! With thanksgiving around the corner I just don't quite know what to do.  We have been there for every thanksgiving since the house was rebuilt but now the house is a sad place for me to be.  sigh.  

I happened by a juried photo contest with the theme of trees and immediately knew I had to enter it.  I hope I get in!  It's a gallery in Texas, which is not great because should I get into the show I would absolutely love to be at the gallery reception.  Texas isn't quite driving distance from here.  Since I've been to Ohio and back a few times that is kind of my outer limit for driving time.  Texas- beyond.  First let's see if I make it through! 

Yesterday I drove back to stepford to see the good old chiro because no other chiro (and I've tried about 6 or 7) has any idea what to do when I say "My head is off and my face is crooked"  But the stepford chiro fixes it.  When he walked into the room he said "Hi! What can I do for you today?" and I just stared at him and then creepily whispered I need you.  All of a sudden the desperateness of how many pieces of me are in need of his magic hit me like a tsunami. He did do some work on my head bones which involved pushing on the roof of my mouth with a finger and then rubbing something he said was a bone on the side of my neck which I had no idea was painful as hell until he touched it.  Then on my drive home (as is always the case, his special kind of magic takes 2-3 hours to kick in) I could feel my face starting to tingle as if it had been asleep all this time of twistedness and was finally getting some circulation back into it.  I was so happy I cried. Then last night my face did not hurt when I laid it on the pillow so I know I'm heading in there right direction.

I also asked the chiro to test me for tick diseases with his Applied Kinesiology magic.  He said I tested positive for anaplasma, which as a disease is called human granulocytic anaplasmosis.  Symptoms include (but are not limited to) severe headache, muscle aches, nausea, abdominal pain, aching joints, weakness fatigue, change in mental status (I blamed that on shifting hormones), and also gastrointestinal symptoms. (Which, let's be real, I kind of probably wouldn't even know if I had except that mysterious 6 week bout of 6 times a day violent diarrhea after I pulled a tick off my butt his summer) Guess which symptoms I don't have!  Think about it and you'll know before you read on.  I don't have loss of appetite and weight loss. That is NEVER my symptom.  I'm in the minuscule minority of people who actually think this kind of illogical thinking "Hmmm.  I'm slightly nauseated, I better eat something and see if that doesn't make me feel better"  Lucky me!  The chiro also gave me something for it, so we will see how I respond and hopefully I can get past this and not be queasy and poopy and achy and tired.  Damn, I do not feel good.

 

What I put on Facebook today

It is a tragedy of epidemic proportions how many women have personal experiences of being physically and/or emotionally abused by men in their lives. I could add a whole slew of my stories to the sickening long list, but instead I will add only two, EXCEPT I would like to focus on the other kind of men in my life. I want to think about the men who backed me up and made me feel better and tried to keep me whole.
When I was in second grade my abusive and mostly estranged father called my elementary school and demanded to speak with me over the phone. Someone came into my classroom and brought me down to the office where I was handed a phone receiver. On the other end was the man who had terrified me since as far I could remember who I hadn't seen for about two years. He was in tears saying he loved me and demanded that I tell him that I loved him back. I stood there silently unable to move or speak. When I didn't say anything he threatened to kill himself if he didn't hear me say the words he was asking me to say. Except I knew I didn't love the guy, I was scared to death of him. I didn't know what to do so I started to cry and tried to choke out the words that I loved him back. Just then my principal, Mr. Blitz, walked into the office and took the receiver out of my hand. He told my biological father that he was to never phone the school again and if he showed up that he would deal with him himself. I was astounded that anyone could talk back to my biological father, seriously, I didn't know that standing up to him was an option. Here I am, 40 something years later remembering how Mr. Blitz taught me that a man couldn't just do anything because technically he could say he was a "father."
When I was in 7th grade I forgot my health class paper in my homeroom. My health teacher sent me back to fetch it but on the way I crossed paths with a gang of young boys who were heading in the opposite direction. I looked down as the leader of the gang blocked my way saying only "Please let me pass." The leader reached out and grabbed my breasts and then every other boy ran past me grabbing at my chest. I ran to my homeroom, scooped up my paper and then froze on my way back to health class. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where those boys had gone and if I would see them again on my way back. I tore through the halls as fast as I could and burst into my health class and broke down in tears in the doorway sobbing out the story to the health teacher. He locked the class in the room so he could go get the administration and at first ,my classmates didn't know what to say or do. Soon though, every boy in my class surrounded me to offer words of comfort. They talked about getting revenge on the boys who grabbed at me, how they would protect me and they even joked and made me laugh. I remember sitting there looking at all these boys, who were up until that moment just some guys in my class that I never gave a second thought about and saw that these boys weren't the same as the boys who had just violated me. There were different kinds of boys and these boys in my class cared about other people, they cared about me, they were the good kind of people.
So, in this current world of a pussy grabbing candidate, women who manage to defend him, and men who want to repeal the 19th amendment, what are we to do?
I don't have all of the answers. But I know what I can do every day all day long. I can be the good kind. I can surround myself with others who are the good kind. I know the good kind is out there, you know the good kind is out there, surround yourself. And when I meet someone who is not coming from a place of love and acceptance, I won't participate.
Stand up for everyone's rights. We all have the right to be safe and respected and treated fairly. That means gender, it means race, and sexual orientation, and country of origin and what ever else ridiculous way people use to hate and discriminate against each other. I refuse to participate. I refuse to spread the pain and suffering.

I met Trump once

So.  I guess back in 2005 when I was still delusional that this blog was going to be a blog about balancing my hilarious full time motherhood with my thrilling adventures (hahaha) as a part time newspaper photographer I posted this extraordinarily politically correct little story in which I pretty much just said "I met Donald Trump and he looked me so hard it was like I was the only person in the room. I guess that's how he keeps getting those new pretty young trophy wives." Except, I didn't say TROPHY because, yeah, I was being PC.  

But....in the real world....  if you had been employed by the paper for which I worked, you would have heard a story that was more all about the total freaky creepiness of the meeting and how he kept looking straight at me and I couldn't wait to get myself out of there and actually bolted at the first chance I got, thankfully before the event was over and while the lights were still low, while suppressing the urge to hurl- while running as fast as my feet could carry me so that I could scrub my right hand shake hand off until the skin was pink and raw because as he gave the world's creepiest stare down treatment (for the first time that night) as he walked directly towards me to shake my hand.  The level of creeped out that I was the day after that event was legendary for a while, the editor still recalls it vividly.  

I believe all the accusations.

or at least trying

My second year advisor wrote a text book.  I am somewhat astounded, as he never imparted any of the wisdom (allegedly contained) in this text book to those of us who were paying cold hard earned cash to bask in his disdain and teaching ineptitude.  (Who's in a bad mood? I'm in a bad mood!!) 

I swear to you by the very few remaining brown hair hairs on my head (exaggerated) that the dude only ever gave me two answers to my questions during our one on one critiques.  His answers were either "I'm not going to discuss that with you. You are a graduate student" or "That is the kind of thing you should be discussing with your cohort."  Never once did the dude answer a single question I asked him- n.e.v.e.r - and my questions were directly related to the exact subject of his text book.  Jerk. I think I should get a book for free! (I bet it sucks) 

Speaking of paying for my own education, sometimes it annoys me as I slowly learn how much money the school gave out to the other students, some of whom were not working up to speed- or left the program, there by giving the school no future return on their investment.  I think that if I were to run an MFA program I would only give money to students who were clearly dedicated, working hard, and pretty much a sure thing to graduate.  Also, if you dropped out of my school before graduating the grant money would become a loan which would have to be paid back.  Sorry, but you don't get something for nothing when I am in charge.  I wish I could start a school.  A school where women are respected and treated well.

This election is taking it's toll on my delicate sense of .... sense of .... everything.  I'm just floating through  the world these days, going from one appointment on my calendar to the next, just trying to keep my spaced out head afloat.  I'm also going through a spell of not sleeping well, which I think might have something to do with it being time to switch over to the winter blanket, so I will do that tonight, but also with the sadness that I am struggling with.  I am so drag your self through and paste a smile on your face sad it is unbelievable. I would love to have a weighted blanket.  I wish I could steal all of the dentist's lead blankets and sew them into one big king sized bed quilt and just heave it over myself every night. Sounds like a dream.

Then yesterday I had to take some test at the gastro-guy which was for bacteria and involved me drinking a somewhat distasteful orange liquid and then blowing air into a bag every 15 minutes for three hours.  Halfway through the three hours the stomach pain hit me.  My gut was expanding.  Then the nausea kicked in and then my face turned frighteningly red, got hotter than sunburn for about 15 minutes and then it mostly except for the nausea gradually faded away.  WTF??  I think there was some kind of unfriendly chemical in the orange liquid.  The nurses had never seen such a reaction before, so they were all over me, taking my blood pressure (normal) checking my heart rate (normal) but folks, I will tell you that I looked like I had fallen asleep in a tanning bed.  And the heat rising off me probably changed the room temperature by a couple of degrees.  I'll kick the first person who says menopause, which it could very well have been because I am at that age, but I don't think it was because I didn't sweat and as far as I know a hot flash involves sweating- I just released waves of heat and got back to normal.  Also, knock wood I haven't had any hot flashes yet, so I'm hoping to mentally deny them so much that they never happen to me.  

A teacher I worked with told me her mother never had any symptoms and she decided she wasn't going to have any symptoms either and then she didn't!  So, I have decided that I am going to skip the whole hot flash thing. I have no time for that. And it does not sound like fun, which is the only thing I would welcome some of into my life right now.

Tomorrow I am going to meet up with the photographer I worked for while I was in college and also another woman who interned with him during the same time.  We had some good times together and I am really looking forward to seeing them, especially him.  He was very important to me.  He treated me well, respected me as an artist and taught me his craft.  It was all good with him, and it came at a time in my life when I really needed to figure out who I wanted to be and hey look!  30 years later I am still a photographer! (or at least trying!!) 

Opened my big mouth

This morning at the dog park I said "I'm so lucky with sweet pea, she really doesn't roll in anything.  I think it's because I caught her rolling a couple of times early on and totally nipped it in the bud."  The universe had a good laugh. An hour later I said "OMG, I think someone stepped in poo!  Is it me?  Is it on me??"  Oh my god, It's on me."  Guess who rolled in (possibly human) poo.

two completely unrelated stories

A few weeks ago two male dogs got into a growling match in the meeting/open space of the woods and when one gave chase the other spooked and ran down the path, through the parking lot, onto the streets, and disappeared.  He was found the next morning on someone's lawn, partially eaten by what we assume was coyotes, which are often seen in the early hours roaming the woods and the surrounding area.  I've been really sad about it, imagining what I would feel like if sweet pea went missing and met some kind of awful fate. My heart breaks for the dog and for the owners.

So, today when I was walking the woods with a friend and one of the men called her to let her know that an older and not entirely healthy dog (who belongs to the sweetest old guy ever) wandered away and was lost we immediately headed down to where the dog was last seen to help search.  The good news is that my friend found the dog, right outside the woods, sniffing around on an adjoining street.  The insane part was that on our way to help out we ran into one of the guys who often walks with the core group of nice dog owning guys and we told him we were running down to help search.  This guy, who was headed out of the park and who should have been the first to go searching since he was walking with the super sweet older guy, said I wouldn't bother, you're wasting your time. 

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!  I didn't say Tony lost a button off his shirt, or even his keys, or phone.  I said Tony's old sick dog is lost!! 

I told him something along the lines of more eyes are never a bad thing and we hauled ass down the path. Are you getting why I am feeling anger right now? I want to take a baseball bat to this guy's head. WASTING MY TIME????

The background on this guy is that he may or may not have tried to kill his wife after he recently found out she was cheating on him and I am now convinced he is not only a total psychopath but also guilty as sin.  I almost want to call his cheating wife, offer sympathy and extra warn her. (He isn't allowed with some distance of her- but still, I feel like she might need some validation from a total stranger)  I recently tried to convince psychopath it would be a good thing for him to move to Florida (before I had decided he is an attempted murderer and psychopath) and I am happy to say that he is entertaining the idea, (because, get your crazy self out of my woods!) but now I feel like someone needs to warn Florida!! OMG. Wasting my time.....

Grrrrr.

In other news, (OR, more accurately) For the most awkward segue ever....  I went to a concert with my BIL last night.  This is the heart warming way he asked me to go with him. "I bought these tickets a long time ago and now wifey doesn't want to go.  If you don't go with me the tickets are going to waste and I'll be throwing money away."  The man is a charmer, is he not? I am telling you people, I married into a family of smooth operators.

Just got back from laughing myself silly.  Where was I?  

Oh yeah, the concert.  On this planet there are folks who should never be allowed to roam past the corner dive bar and two of them sat directly in front of us last night.  I will now describe in painstaking detail the uncomfortable horror of sitting behind the teeny tiny Melanie Griffith character in Working Girls before her transition while she was still trashy and cheap looking, except the Melanie in front of me was older and wore much smaller and tighter clothes,  and what Billy Joel would like if his neck disappeared and his head just balanced right on top of  his shoulders and he was in a constant seizure (or, worst white boy dancer ever) and couldn't quite open his eyes because he was also drunker than drunk.  So, first we get there and extra tacky Melanie character can not stop whispering into neckless Billy's ear.  It wasn't the "I have something interesting to say" kind of whisper it was the "I have some foreplay sex talk" kind of whisper.  Also, Melanie was the handsiest public mauler I have seen since I went to the local dive bar in college where everyone was getting wasted on 10 cent beers in order to justify hooking up with strangers.  By the third song in they were sucking face. Literally.  I could hear the squishy spit sounds because the warm up guy was a one man solo guitarist who was paying at a normal volume.  I hear what you are thinking internet.  You're thinking, LOOK AWAY!! Which makes a ton of sense until you know that we were seated a bit on the side and I was in a seat where my gaze to see the stage was exactly between the heads of Melanie and Billy.  Which I couldn't really see anyway because some idiot kid in the front row with a backwards baseball hat was the single person in the entire audience standing was directly in front of the warm up guy to listen to him while he was combination jerking around his whole body like a drummer and hand gesture/acting out the songs the warm up guitarist was performing.  Also, despite Melanie's diminutive size, her yellow cotton candy fried hair took up some serious airspace.

I suspect that for my own personal happiness I should forever more live life from the comfort of my own house in front of a giant screen television.

Question: What is more unappealing than drunk young people?  Drunk old people!  And the minute it was intermission Billy ran to the bar for more drinks, since I guess he liked the way drunk Melanie was already spilling her warm up guy drink onto her boobs and also she was so drunk she could barely stand and who doesn't find that sexy?!? While they were mauling each other, fresh drinks in hand, drunk Billy stuck his hand down the back of Drunk Melanie's low rider jeans and fondled her tiny little (but nicely shaped, I will give her that) ass not even a solid foot away from my face because I was seated at the time.  I took a picture. barf.  

Anyway, the actual band came on stage and then everyone stood and drunk Billy did this dance move which made Elaine Bennis look like a ballerina.  Also, drunk Billy was not seizing to the actual music in the room.  So, no rhythm, no moves and part of the whole jerky eyes closed weird ass performance involved a limbo like backwards bendy move with a loopy forward kick, from which he almost lost his balance about every 5 minutes and which I was prepared to shove his falling self away from my BIL because no one hurts the men of the family I married into! Except me! Just kidding.  I never hurt a fly.  But seriously, I was worried about the BIL, and didn't want this repulsive neckless dude to end up over the back of his chair and on my date for the evening. I could not look away!! In the mean time clingy Melanie who could literally barely stand also could not bear being more than, well, no distance away from drunk neckless Billy, and since Billy was edging out into the aisle to seize/dance Melanie was heading that way too, until the poor usher made his way through every ten minutes and tried to shoo all the drunk (and by drunk, I mean drunk and stoned because there were hordes of people sucking on vapes too) old people back into their rows. That got too complicated.  What I need you to understand is that itty bitty extra naked Melanie needed to be touching drunk neckless Billy every moment of the night and she was either pawing him while he was trying to convulse to some magical music that didn't have the same beat as the music in the room or he was leaning in and sucking her face.  I feel like they should pay me reparations.  I might need a therapy session.

Edited to add: I had a flashback while driving today (must be PCSD- post concert stress disorder) and thought that to really complete the picture I should have told you that little drunk Melanie did actually at some point during the concert make an attempt to dance along with neckless Billy.  At first she was doing what can only be described as pole dancing minus a pole and then when that did not grab his attention she took his hand and began to tremble and shake similarly to him, which totally made it look like one of them was being electrocuted and that the current was passing into the other one through their intertwined fingers.

 

s.f.s.

I may have been underestimating the amount of grief the weather has been giving me by not cooperating with my photographic needs.  Today the weather yanked my chain all.day.long.

When I took sweet pea out for her first morning duty it was so early the sun had not yet crested the horizon, yet I could see the blue sky dominating over a few patchy clouds.  I raised my fist Freddie Mercury style in victory because a sun drenched day means shooting in the woods and I had time for that today.  Fast forward 30 minutes and the sky was blanketed in thick gray clouds, which means shooting on the street, except you know I always have to do my daily hike first.  I went to the woods and left my gear at home.  During the two hours of hiking and socializing this morning the sky went from sunny to cloudy no less than 5 times.  Each time I saw the sun I got excited, wondering if maybe I should dash to the house and return to photograph. No sooner would I focus in on the quality of the light and HELLO CLOUDS!!  The world's most inaccurate weather phone app was no help at all as it had only a cloud covered day predicted in the hour to hour section. (I need a better app)  So, I told myself I'd shoot on the street this afternoon.

Eventually I left the woods, grabbed some coffee and headed for the grocery store to stock up on Evan's supplies.  He tells me he is doing something called a "dirty bulk" for weight lifting/muscle building purposes but to me it just seems like he is torturing himself by eating large quantities of the same boring food every day- of which the only vegetables are an avocado and the tomato sauce he uses to choke down all the ground beef and pasta he eats every day for lunch.  I would prefer he eat more vegetables.  I'm so mom.

By the time I got back to the house after the grocery store I just watched in frustration as the sky clouded and cleared over and over again throughout the day until now (after 4PM) when it seems to have finally settled on clear, but it's too late to return to the woods and even if I could I wouldn't because my aim is for mid day sun anyway.  I fear that I am not going to achieve this goal while there is still foliage left on the trees.  Woe is me.  I guess this project will have to wait until the spring. shit.fuck.shit.