Happy Birthday, Grampy

Those of you who know me have often heard me say that my paternal grandfather was the most important person in my life. Yesterday would've been his 100th birthday.

Edgar Brown Kimball was born on November 9, 1912 in Worcester, Massachusetts.  He served in the Army during WWII.  He wouldn't talk about it much, but I do know that he drove a tank in Germany and saw "awful things." He came home with a sailor girl tattooed on his forearm, which by the time I came along, was faded to a bleached denim blue color and many of the details had been blurred. It looked like a penguin to me. I loved that tattoo.

My grandfather was a carpenter and a fisherman.  Growing up, I would often accompany him to job sites and, to this day, the smell of sawdust evokes Grampy. He had a fishing boat out of Cape Cod (which he named after me, his oldest grandchild) and he would fish for striped bass and trap lobsters, which he'd later sell to a fish market. He and my father belonged to a fishing club where they would compete in surf fishing on Nauset Beach. I remember his ugly green waders and how I'd lay awake in the camper listening to the men strategizing over the tide charts and a cup of coffee, always on a quest for the biggest "stripe-ahs."  He and my dad didn't want to pay for a clamming permit, so he'd send Dawn and I clamming-- the Coast Guard wouldn't bust two little girls. I remember finding the breathing holes on the wet sand in Buzzards Bay, then digging with a little shovel and placing them in a metal bucket. Grampy would cook them in a broth of beer and we'd dunk them in butter on the beach. Nothing tasted finer.

Grampy was also a singer and a songwriter. He had a rich, bass-baritone voice and played the accordian and guitar. My earliest memories of childhood include sitting next to him as he sung Johnny Cash songs.  He loved Johnny Cash and so do I. I knew the words to "I Walk the Line" before I could walk. He wrote his own songs, too, and taught me the words but I wasn't allowed to sing them with him because they had "swears" and my grandmother would get mad.

He also painted ceramics as a hobby-- I still have the statue of ET he made for me. One year for Christmas, we got him a hooked rug kit, which started him on yet another interest. He took great delight in calling himself a "hooker."

Another vivid memory of my grandfather is his love of sports.  After eating a multi-course meal prepared by my grandmother, we'd settle in on his rust-colored tweed recliner to watch the Bruins-- in the heyday of Bobby Orr and Phil Esposito, the Celtics-- John Havlachek (sp?) and Larry Bird, the Red Sox-- Carl Yazstrzemski.  Grampy also watched boxing and bowling with equal glee.

During my early teens in Pennsylvania, I played bantam hockey in Johnstown.  There were no girls' leagues in the 70's, so I played with the boys. Most of my relatives were horrified and were convinced I'd get hurt. Not Grampy. He was my biggest advocate. His ice-blue eyes would twinkle when we talked about it, for he was the one who taught me how to skate on frozen ponds in Massachusetts.

He was my biggest supporter again when I entered college and decided that I wanted to further explore my passion for art. Money was tight and "wasting" tuition money on "frivolous" art classes and supplies was frowned upon. But Grampy was always there with a wink and an extra $20 or so to buy paint.

My grandfather died of lung cancer on September 7, 1985 in Auburn, MA. I felt it the moment he died. I was at home, sleeping, and in the middle of the night, I sat bolt upright in bed. I knew he was gone. A phone call from my grandmother the next morning confirmed it. He did not live to see me graduate college. Or get married. Or to continue my artistic endeavors.

I don't have very many pictures of my grandfather, but I cherish the ones I do have. His and my grandmother's wedding photo-- he called her "Babe." I was in high school before I realized her real name was Mary. A photo of him in his Army uniform that he sent to my grandmother from Germany. A picture of he and I playing pirate games with plastic swords.

I love you, Grampy. I wish we had had more time together. I wish you could see me now and how you've shaped me in so many ways. But I believe that you do see me.  I think about you all the time. I still know by heart the words to every Johnny Cash song you've ever taught me.  Happy birthday.

By the numbers

Go figure.  Why is it that I always get hurt just before a big race?  Coming off of a very pleasant experience at Fort2Base, I felt in good form. But on the way (ironically) to marathon packet pickup with Teresa last Friday, my back started twinging. Ran my 12 miles on Saturday anyway. By today, the pain was so bad that it was distracting. Off I go to Dr. Sam, the chiropractor.

While lying there hooked up to the electrodes, I started wondering to myself, "how many races have I done?" I'm an obsessive record-keeper with a terrible memory, so I decided to go home and put all of my handwritten logs (the races only) onto an Excel spreadsheet.

Here's what I came up with:

10 Milers (Soldier Field) = 8 years in a row!
11.5 Milers = 1 (Fort2Base this year, but I'll definitely be back!)
3.45-3.5 miles = 6 times (Chase Corporate Challenges and the R2B 5 Nautical Miler)
5K = 51 of them!!
8K = 9 of them!!  (mostly Shamrock Shuffles)
10K = surprisingly, only 2
Half Marathons = 5
Marathons = 1 and a half (completed the marathon in 2006, deliberately DNF in 2005 due to injury, but did 14.5 miles of it.)

It's crazy!  No wonder my body is falling apart.

Being a better blogger

Dear Blog, it's been over a month since I last posted.... does this sound like a confession?  It kind of is.  I've been meaning to keep my blog more updated but, well, I haven't.

A lot has happened since we lost Sheila, some bad and some good. 

1) We adopted a new kitten, 5-month-old Jillian.  She's a beautiful grey tabby and fills our house with constant motion.  The big cats-- Jessica and Baylee-- aren't in love with her quite yet, but we're hoping the change will come. Jilly is fond of riding Baylee like a wild stallion and although Bay outweighs her by about 10 pounds, she screams like she's being murdered.  Such a drama cat.  Meanwhile, Jess sulks and hisses.

2) I've done a few races-- Fort2Base 11.5 miler at Great Lakes Naval Base and Crypt 5K at Rosehill Cemetery last weekend.  Both races were somewhat marred by who was missing-- Teresa. My sister has received some very bad news lately regarding her mother's health and had been out of town visiting her for both races. For Fort2Base, I exceeded the expectations I set for myself and for the 5K, let's just say I didn't break any records. Next up for me is the Monster Dash Half Marathon in 3 short weeks! I had been toying with the idea of another Half for a while but based my final decision on my performance in F2B.  I'm already "trained up" for it so I might as well. I'll be lying if I say I don't hope for a PR.

3) I celebrated my LAST birthday in my 40's with not too much fanfare (it was on a Tuesday night).  The weekend before was the big celebration with John, Kimmy, Justin and Kaylee. Nothing beats being surrounded by your family and the laughter and joy that comes from seeing presents handmade by my crafty little niece. On my actual birthday, my work folks took me out for a lavish dinner complete with two Chicago Bears players sitting a few tables away from us. Next year's the big 5-0.  It means I will be moving up an age division for running. Maybe I can place a few times if the rest of the oldsters are a little bit slower than me.

4) Been having difficulties with sleep and general anxiety so I'm seeing a doctor to get on the road to "better living." I'm finally off the Ambien that I was relying on for over 10 years for sleep.  The medications replacing it, however, are a bit challenging to adjust to and I'm still not feeling 100% myself, but I know it's a test of patience. I don't have much, but I just have to ride it out. Things will get better.

5) I start fall semester at school next week.  I'm once again taking studio painting critique at The School of the Art Institute with Paula Henderson (Google her, her work is amazing) and a gaggle of old friends from previous classes. I went out on a high this summer by painting A LOT so I hope to keep that momentum going throughout the fall. I have a few canvases already sketched out.

6) There is no hockey. Once again the asshats in the NHL let greed win and there's a lockout. I'm not shocked because it has happened before, but I am upset.  As my friend Mike put it, though, "we'll be back.  We're sheep."  Well, I'll be a sheep in Wolves clothing for a while (Chicago Wolves minor league hockey, that is). I haven't worn anything Bruins, Penguins or Blackhawks related since the lockout started.  My small and insignificant nod to protest.

I guess that's it for now... the good, the bad, the indifferent.  Later!

Loss and learning

It's been a long time since I've posted because it has been a very eventful and difficult summer.

Sheila's medical condition had continued to deteriorate and at 12:41 p.m. on Thursday, August 16, the veterinary staff from City Cat Doctor visited our home and assisted her to her final rest. We knew it was coming. Since November, it's been a hospice situation with her. Still, giving her that final kiss on the orange patch of fur on her forehead (which we liked to call her "trouble spot") and then watching her go limp as her heart beat its last was painful beyond measure. I love my husband for being there with me and sharing my tears with an understand that only he could have. I am so grateful for my bosses Erica and Jason, and my teammates Yvette, Sallie and Julie who went out of their way to cover my workload so I had time to process my grief. Much thanks to Dean and Kimmy, too, who called me every day and patiently listened to me cry as long as I needed to. All of my friends held my hand and helped me when I needed it the most.

My friend has been undergoing radiation for her cancer treatment and for a while lost her ability to speak and had to be nourished by a feeding tube. She is on my mind daily and it's been difficult not being able to talk to her and share in her trials. But she is slowly regaining her strength and we are now able to exchange emails when she feels up to it. This connectivity is so important to me.  I've known her a long time and she's been my rock in many situations.

Went to a wedding recently for two gay friends. The ceremony was full of love and touching moments but was also somewhat shadowed by yet more grief.  His only sister, age 35, died a mere two weeks before the wedding, leaving behind a husband and a two-year-old son. Seeing them brought tears to my eyes. She was a leading scientist and university professor who did a lot of good in this world and mentored many college students who knew her.

Also, my sister relocated to a distant suburb to insure a good school system for my niece and nephew and that change has been difficult on all of us, as all of us navigate insecurities that somehow this physical distance will test the bonds we have and rely on so heavily.

Thoughout it all, though, I believe I've grown stronger and have changed in many ways. I'm painting so much more as a way to buffer the sadness that can overwhelm me. I took a 5-week course at SAIC and my instructor Paula Henderson and my classmates were so positive and affirming. I feel that my work has progressed to new levels and that pleases me very much.

Also, I'm looking at my life and relationships in a different light. True, I'm always thankfully in awe and full of gratitude for those around me who sustain me. Still, I'm an imperfect person who can be quick to anger and take offense when none is actually meant. That's my own insecurity, but I'm understanding more how that can affect the ones on the other side of the friendship. So I'm trying to let my interactions invoke a smile and by using words of support and love. As I've enjoyed and been bolstered by so much support, I've been stepping up my efforts to do the same to those around me. Yes, I'm busy. Work. Painting. Running. Cleaning house and other mundane things.  Blah blah blah. Time's short. But I need to be better at pushing those I cherish up the ladder of priority. Events I've witnessed this summer reinforce that maybe I won't get a chance to do that tomorrow. Maybe they're having a terrible day and a kind word or two from me will turn it around for them-- and that's worth 10 minutes less of "Dance Moms." That's the power of human interaction.

Out of darkness comes light. Out of trouble comes insight and understanding. I'm hopeful that the changes I'm trying to make in my everday life will help to negate someone else's hard time.

going the distance

This past Saturday I raced in my 7th Soldier Field 10 Miler. Like last year, this one was preceded by a lot of doubt. For the past few months, I've been battling a knee injury, but thanks to a wonderful physical therapist, I felt as if I had turned a corner and the pain was no longer an issue. The week prior to the race, though, the hot weather loomed large and forecasted temperatures in the upper 80's caused me great concern.

I took the day off on Friday to have lunch with a dear friend I've known for over 20 years who I haven't seen in a while. Her office is quite far from mine which makes workday lunchtimes hard and I really missed her. As soon as I saw her, I sensed that something was wrong. She told me that she has been battling cancer and-- get this-- didn't want to tell too many people so as to not burden them with the news. I was staggered and in shock. She talked about it rather calmly and with the positive outlook that is so typical of her. We hugged long and hard as we departed at Union Station.

Saturday morning dawned and the predicted weather held off; the day was cool, windy and overcast. While waiting for Heena and Kimmy, John suddenly noticed that our cat Sheila was bleeding. She, too, has been battling cancer. He instantaneously decided to forgo the race and take her to the vet. I told him I would also not run the race and go with them. By then, Kimmy and Heena were at the door. My thoughts were whirling. John urged me to go to the race and be with my friends as a distraction. The cat wasn't in distress and the situation didn't seem immediately grave so I decided to go forward with the run.

Needless to say, though, my thoughts were troubled as I waited for the race to begin, shivering in the wind. This was way bigger than running. Due to the large number of participants, the race start was staggered so it was almost 45 minutes before my group approached the start line.

To be indelicate, I had to pee. Really bad. But I decided against making a last-minute mad dash for the port-a-potty because I didn't want to have trouble getting back to the start area. By mile 1.5, though, it was clear that I'd have to make a detour. Of course, the lines were long and I glanced anxiously at my watch. Over six minutes lost.

By the time I hit mile 2, I was extremely off pace to PR or to even meet the lower expectation I was carrying, to finish the race in under two hours. I felt beaten and discouraged. I wanted to give up... to give in to the distractions I had and to just walk to the finish line. It was such an empty feeling.

Then I looked at all of the people around me running and having a good time. I felt the cool wind surround me on the beautiful lakefront. I thought about how hard I had fought the knee injury just to get to the start line. I thought of my friend and my cat who were at that moment fighting a battle that made any negativity I was feeling pale in comparison.

At that moment, I decided to not fail. I stepped up the pace and ran my heart out for the last 8 miles. No, nothing magical happened. I did not PR. Choirs of angels did not sing in my ear. But I dug deep for an inner strength and I found it. I found it for myself, and my friend and my cat. Come to think of it, I guess that is pretty magical.

Update - Sheila has a wound on her leg-- bad enough, but thankfully not as bad as we had feared. And I heard from my friend today. She ended her email with the following words, "thank you for all your support and friendship. It proves how much is right and how very little is wrong."

Words to live by.

over half my life

While watching my friend Manny's band perform on Friday night, I was suddenly struck with an amazing thought.  I've known Karyce and Manny over half my life. Over HALF of my life. It made tears well up in my eyes and made me think of continuity, my personal history and what is important.

I was born in Massachusetts, lived in Western Pennsylvania and now in Chicago. What defines home?  I've lived her longer than I've lived anywhere else, combined. My fondest memories and closest people are here. Sitting in a banquet hall on a golf course in suburban Bolingbrook, Illinois, I felt complete.

During the show's intermission we talked about our present and our past. Relived the old stories that get retold every time we're together. Manny and I going out to breakfast together at Mitchell's as he mimicked the restaurant syrup scene from "Rain Man," much to my delight and slight embarassment. John and Manny,  downing an extra-large pizza, wine coolers and an entire apple pie and then playing tennis on an 80 degree summer day-- both of them got sick. Karyce and I spending all day working together at Ernst & Whinney, then going home and talking on the phone for over 3+ hours a night. Lavish dinner dances. Boisterous family Christmases and Thanksgivings. Teaching Manny to ice skate. Karyce pointing her extremely long fingernails at me and calling me "heifer."

I took pictures last night and then came home and dug though my photo albums to find the old ones (you'll be able to tell fairly readily which are which!). We're all older, maybe wiser, less hair, grey hair, but the laughter and the joy has not dimished over time.  History is a wonderful thing.

the agony of the bikini

Once again, a summertime at the water park at Great America looms. With it comes the fear and dread of showing my "winter puff" in a bikini. I'm not one of those women who will excuse it away with, "my metabolism is slow," or "If I had time, I would exercise more..."  Nope. I'm gonna call a spade a spade. I'm lugging around a few extra pounds because I love to eat. With gusto.  So as I fire up the good 'ole "Lose It!" iPhone app and hold myself accountable for every morsel that goes in my mouth, I review some of my culinary likes and dislikes (which kind of outlines my struggle).

Likes

Pizza - The Bible tells us in Genesis that "in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." So wrong. The first thing He did was create pizza.  And it was good.

Arby's Beef and Cheddar - Screw four-star restaurants.  Take me to Arby's and I will love you forever.

Reese's Pieces - Loved by ET.  And by me.

BBQ chicken wings from D'Agostino's - I'm quirky about chicken and how it's cooked and these are perfection.

Swedish Red Fish - as close as I get to seafood (see below).

Cheez-Its - Cannot stop once I start.  Really.

McDonald's Happy Meal - No, I'm not embarassed be an adult and still like the toy.

Diet Pepsi - my biggest vice. I will never confess how much of it I actually drink.

Cupcakes - especially with coconut, but I show no discrimination. I have never met a cupcake I haven't liked.

Dislikes

Fish and all of its aquatic friends - Yes, I was born in Massachusetts and raised on lobster and steamed clams ("steem-AHs"), but now I firmly believe that if it lives in the ocean, lake or stream, it should stay there.

Tofu - it's just wrong.

Hummus - Looks like something you'd find in a diaper.

Peas - Satan's vegetable. I've been known to laboriously pick each one out of chicken pot pie before I'll eat it.

Mushrooms - Three-time losers-- taste, texture, smell. They have no redeeming qualities.

Baby corn - they just look like a freakish mutant.

Water chestnuts - I'm not exactly sure what my problem is with them.

Tomatoes - Yes, I will eat them well-cooked in a soup or stew, but never, ever in a salad or on a sandwich. It's the sliminess around the seeds. Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl.

Onions - again, you may slip a little of them by me in a soup or stew, but never raw.

Ham - it's mostly the color.  Mom tells me that even in infancy I wouldn't eat it.

So... It's probably no coincidence that most of the things on my Like list are bad for you and that things on my Dislike list are good for you. Ah, well.  There's always portion control. Because although I can spray tan away my pasty white legs, there's a limit to how long I can suck in my abs without asphyxiating myself.

What's next?

Well, school's over. I've taken a bit of a break from painting, for a lot of reasons.

First of all, I'm not sure which direction I want to take artistically. During the tail end of the semester, I started a figurative work of Nick and Richie from 7th Heaven. Much to my dismay, I had troubles with it. I'm a little worried that, due to all the abstraction I've been doing, I've forgotten how to "keep it real." A white canvas is indeed an intimidating thing.

Secondly, I'm spending a ton of time going to physical therapy and doing my "homework" in a valiant attempt to rehab my knee before next month's Soldier Field 10 Miler. Which is my favorite race ever.  Had another evaluation last night and Molly is encouraged by my progress. So am I. The hardest thing for a runner is to NOT run-- as much, as far and as fast as possible-- but I'm calling on the teeny, tiny bit of inner patience I possess. I'm currently working on a "return to run" program that features intervals of run-walk. Today at lunchtime I did a 3 minute run-2 minute walk ratio for 2.62 miles and I felt great. I've resolved myself to not getting a PR this year, but I should at least be able to finish. That'll have to be good enough.

And.... it's hockey playoff time! Sadly, two out of three of my teams were cursed with an early exit, but Game 7 is tonight for the Boston Bruins. I have a Ray Bourque t-shirt that is over 20 years old and I'm wearing it proudly. Go Bruins. I can't remember the last time that one of my teams didn't advance to the second round or beyond, and I don't want this year to become a statistic. I pity my poor colleagues at work because I talk about it endlessly, and the overwhelming majority of folks in my department could care less.  Their loss!

Socially, it's been busy as well. Although I've held off on racing, I am an enthusiastic cheerleader. Watched my sister and brother-in-law finish Home Team 10K in the Cell on Sunday and stayed for the after-party, where Michael McDermott performed. Denise's daughter Alyssa WON the race (for her gender) with a smokin' fast time of 38:53-- that's a 6:16 minute mile. We were ecstatic to see her and give her a big hug afterwards. Also went to a benefit for Mike's brother Dan, who is a local policeman and has served in Iraq.  He lost a kidney to cancer a few months ago. I love my brother-in-law's parents and we had a great time for an even better cause. Celebrated John's 51st birthday with a dinner out and cupcakes from Sugar Bliss.

Gotta go. The puck's about to drop. Go Bruins, or I'll have a really long face tomorrow.

way out of my comfort zone

Behold! The FINAL painting of the semester. What a relief to put the final brush strokes on the surface. Relief and a feeling of incredulity.

If I had to apply a theme to the last few months, it has definitely been one of change and pushing boundaries, both in art and in other aspects of my life.

I'm primarily a painter of figurative work. In fact, I signed up for this class with the ambition of using it to spur my motivation to finish up a couple of portraits that have been languishing on my easel for a while. But in the last ten weeks, I've done nothing but abstractions. It's a complete change of pace for me, and very liberating.

In my running life, the early part of 2012 has brought me ups and downs. In January I started a rigorous program of strength training with my sister Teresa. Yes, I was in tears more than once in the gym, as she can attest, because I felt somewhat inadequate and afraid that I would be unable to keep up. But I fought through it and saw two new running PRs by pretty good margins. A new 5K PR in February and a new 8K PR in March. PRs-- beating times I had set years ag0. I shake my head in wonderment and attribute it 100% to the drive that Teresa and the new workout regime has given me.

Bask in your glory too long and it will often come to a screeching halt. I started noticing problems with my knee and had to taper back on the relentless weight work and pushing my limits of speed. It made me more than a bit sad and somewhat self-pitying. Likewise, a few weeks ago at school I had a critique that was-- let's just say-- not too positive. It caused me to seriously question the direction my art has been taking.

It's turmoil that defines us... not comfort. I'm working hard every day to get my knee stonger so that I can race well at Soldier Field in May. The physical therapy is painful. The race I did this weekend was disappointing, time-wise. But I know that, this, too will pass.

And as I finished my painting tonight, I did so with a sense of satisfaction and renewed confidence. I tried something unfamiliar. Something I've never done before. Whether it's the best work I've ever done is irrelevant. Any forward momentum moves us... well... forward.

I'm surrounded!

I'm sitting here impatiently waiting for acrylic gel medium to dry on my next painting and reflecting on how lucky I feel to have had so many creative interactions today.

This morning I exchanged messages with my novelist friend Ron, who I've recently reconnected with after at least a dozen years. I've had the honor of previewing a few chapters of his latest work and will be designing a logo for his newly resurrected book critique blog. We're also planning to get together soon at a toastmaster's group he belongs to. Ron is quirky, funny, big-hearted and a fabulous writer.

Spent my lunchtime at The Art Institute of Chicago, perusing the Modern Wing and looking at some surrealism. It blows my mind that such greatness is literally accessible to me every day.

When I got home tonight, I listened online to a recent radio show featuring my friend Bob. Bob's another gifted writer, who hosts a well-known Chicago theater blog that has gained a wide following (he was recently invited to begin contributing to The Huffington Post). Bob's so talented, creative and full of energy.

Next, I visited the blog of a person who follows my blog, only to find out that he is an amazing photographer-- and apparently a hockey fan too! Sent him an email praising his work and eagerly looking forward to seeing more of it.

Finally, just got an email from my friend Dean with an attachment showing her latest painting. She is responsible for sparking my interest in card-making and she's also an exceptional pastel artist. She works primarily in landscape and wildlife and I am in awe of her talent.

Yes!! I'm bragging about my friends. Gleefully and with great appreciation for knowing them and having their inspiration fill my life every day.

Now, if only that gel medium would dry....

Patellarella paintings

So here they are.... these are acrylic and mixed media (glitter, crystals, surgical sutures!) on canvas (10" x 10"). I'm working on a ginormous one for class on Monday. Stay tuned!

thump thump bang bang

That's my right knee. After dealing with varying degrees of pain with it (due to my somewhat rigorous strength training program and running speedword I'm sure), I bit the bullet and went for an MRI last night.

Thump thump bang bang. I'm not really bothered by MRIs-- despite the noise and the claustrophia that can accompany "the tube." Actually, I find the process rather soothing. When else do you get to just lie there for 40 minutes and not feel guilty about not cleaning the house, working on the computer, reading or otherwise engaging in life activities?

Although I'm somewhat of a hypochondriac (why just have a simple sinus headache when it could be a brain tumor?), I honestly believe that this is probably just a strain. Still. John knows the folks at the MRI place and it's very easy to procure one, so I might as well be sure.

Plus, the images are so damn cool. I was thrilled to death when the technician gave me a CD with the pictures. They're otherworldy and quite dramatic. So I spent a portion of the day today playing with them-- printing them on the computer in a variety of sizes and I plan on using them in a collage for my art class.

a strange new world

This semester (for the critique class that I'm taking at SAIC) I'm finding myself taking somewhat of a detour from my usual acrylic figure paintings.

About a month and a half ago, I started playing around with photo images printed from the computer. It was part walk down memory lane and part research project. I wanted a collection of people who have been influential to me-- from the doctor in Johnstown, PA who saved my life, to my husband, to ex-bosses. I scoured Facebook and other sources and put together a Warhol-ish black and white photo collage. Next, I introduced a little bit of color with some acrylic glazes. Finally I put myself into the work... literally. Using (very tame) nude photos, I collaged myself on top of the snapshots of those who have impacted me. It was perhaps the most personal and heartfelt work I've ever produced. The ideas kept coming. On top of the photo images, I added watercolor-tinted twine and some rhinestones. The end result pleased me very much so I brought them to critique.

I'm lucky to be in a group of such dynamic, creative individuals who helped to encourage me to pursue this new direction in my artwork and to push it even further. So this week I spent countless hours expanding upon this body of work. This time I added even more color, played with dimension, perspective and viewpoint. The materials are completely new to me and I'm making up the technique as I go along, but it's a whole lotta fun. I can hardly wait to see what happens next.

But I do miss my acrylic figurative work.

a rough week

On Saturday mornings, I like to spend time reviewing the past week. This reflection allows me to re-experience the highs and to also contemplate the lows from the perspective of how I could've done things diferently.

This week, I made a mess of a close friendship. It was completely my fault. I misinterpreted something and let my over-sensitivity cloud my reactions. I made it about me when I should've been supportive of this person's tough time. I said things that were hurtful and caused someone I love to feel stress. Now I'm at a loss as to how to fix it. Or even if I can.

Had a bad visit to the dentist. Wasn't properly anesthetized, and a process that should've been easy caused me such intense pain that I blacked out for a minute, then started hyperventilating. It was scary.

I'm struggling with strength training at the gym and wishing for greater progress. Once again, I'm my own worse enemy with self-criticism and doubt. Can't shake a feeling of inadequacy.

Had some good, too. Received a very positive critique in class on Monday night and I'm truly excited and energized by the creative people I'm meeting and the projects I'll be working on.

Went to my niece's confirmation last night and was so emotionally moved by the love of friends and family.

What have I learned this week? Sometimes it's better to shut up and not allow my own insecurities to tear down other people. That I take myself too seriously. That I need to spend more time relaxing and focusing on my blessings. That next week is a new week, and I can start again.

body and soul

I'm not an outstanding athlete. I'm not even a good athlete. But about three weeks ago, my sister Teresa, upon hearing that Bally's and LA Fitness have merged, uttered five words that have changed me-- "we can work out together."

Teresa's a marathoner extraordinaire and works out like a fiend. I... not so much. We've been meeting at lunchtime a couple of times a week and she's really putting me through the paces with seemingly impossible cardio and strength training moves. On the first day, I literally cried. Not just because I was in pain (I was) but also because I was embarassed that she is so far in advance of me fitness-wise, but yet is willing to give me so much time and encouragement. Not surprising because that who she is, but touching nevertheless.

So we've been running up and down stairs. Ten times. With 20 pound weights. We've been doing push-ups, sit-up, all the torturous machines, sprint laps and everything in between. I hate it. I love it. I get discouraged. I get encouraged. Throughout it all, Teresa is right there with me. To tell me to shut up when I tell her I hate her. To make me smile when I'm grimacing. To send me an email when I get back to my desk after a particularly grueling session that read "good job. I'm proud of you." Thanks T. There are no words to tell you how much your efforts inspire me. And I'm already seeing a payoff in my running. Today I ran a 7:59 minute mile. Child's play to most people, but huge to me. Huge. I can't wait to run my next 5K.

I've also been reinvigorated with my art. I'm in the midst of a small diptych (each piece is 12" x 12") that is completely unlike anything I've ever done. It's mixed media-- I started with Andy Warhol-ish black and white photographs of men, then women, who have somehow influenced me. Most I know personally. Some I don't. It was a walk down memory lane and a research project of sorts (finding a photograph of the doctor who saved my life, who is surprisingly still practicing in Johnstown, PA). Over these images, I applied semi-gloss gel medium and acrylic washes of color, black and white self-portraits and other collage elements to make it align with my vision. It is perhaps the most intensely personal work I've ever done.

Additionally, I got a message from a friend of mine who I haven't talked to in close to 15 years. He's a published novelist who has finished his second novel and has also ressurrected his internet column on writing. He asked me to come up with a logo for said column. I'm tickled, both to be back in contact with this talented and personable individual, but also because he thought of me when he needed artwork. My mind is alive with possibilities for this adventure.

I've been cooking. As part of my New Year's Resolution, I vowed to do "more" of the things that are good for me-- running, lifting weights, knitting, making art, eating in more-- both to eat healthier and to save money.

I've never been much of a cook, even though both of my grandmothers excelled at it. I remember Grammy, every weekend, putting out a huge spread from appetizers to desserts. She made a Lithuanian potato dish that I was particularly fond of, and her lemon pie defies adequate praise.

My mom, on the other hand, specializes in Kraft macaroni and cheese and Hamburger Helper. After I got married and moved to Chicago, I figured, "why bother learning?" We live in Little Italy. And every place delivers.

Oddly enough, though, restaurant food gets boring. So it was with a spirit of adventure that I bought a few cookbooks and supplies I've never heard of and went to task. I'm pretty proud of some of the things I've made this week-- beer glazed slow cooked pot roast with onions and mushrooms, served with oven baked red potatoes with olive oil and rosemary. Mediterranean chicken served over whole wheat noodles with chopped spinach. Cranberry-almond quinoa breakfast cookies. Next up is pork with pecan sweet potatoes.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to burn my pizza menu from D'Agostino's. Not hardly! Or that I'm going to do this every day. But, still... for now I'm having fun with it. I might even buy an apron!