Shoes Like Yaya

I'm so excited. I got a message last week that a photo I had submitted to the "Grandparents are the Greatest" contest is in the Top Ten. Voting was supposed to begin over the weekend, but so far the photos aren't posted on their web site. I'm dying to see the other photos to see what the "competition" is. The winning photo will be the Grandparents Day poster and the cover of their mag -- which would be very cool -- plus gas cards for the monetary award. I'm more excited about the poster and mag prospect than the gas card though.

The picture is one I took in Pittsburgh of my feet and Lucy's feet -- both of us wearing our purple Keens. It's funny, when I look at the picture now, I know that if I had even considered that it was a photo for a contest, I would have lined our feet up, tried to be sure her little dress wasn't there, probably fussed with it, etc. But as it was, we were just standing there and she said "I have shoes like Yaya." And I had my camera, so Snap and it was captured. Obviously, the title of the photo is Shoes Like Yaya. Here it is:

Transitions

"Who are you?" said the Caterpillar. . .
"I -- I hardly know, Sir, just at present," Alice replied rather shyly, "at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."

Lewis Carroll
from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

"I'll Be Right Back"

Our best "couple" friends are in San Francisco for a pleasure trip. Only it has turned out not to be pleasure. He ended up in the hospital emergency room, had surgery on his brain, and is currently heavily sedated to prevent seizures. His family has gathered 'round and they don't know at this point what the outcome will be. My heart is the heaviest it's been in a long time. I can't stop thinking about them.

Every day when we walk out the door, we have every intention of being right back. We leave things undone, unsaid, uncared for, believing that we'll take care of them when we get home. Seems like lately I keep getting hit in the face with these reminders to not take life for granted. Strange times for me.

Lost and Confused

I had a dream last night that I'd lost my phone. I was in an environment like a hospital but it wasn't; it had a large counter or desk like you see on a hospital floor. I had used my phone and then when I picked it up, it wasn't the right one. I kept picking up other phones, and they were all similar, same color or size but none were the right one.

When I looked at the dream book this morning under "lost" and "telephone," one suggestion was to think of yourself as the phone; maybe you're the one lost. Hmmmm. That's interesting.

Then I went to church and grabbed my name tag and went in. In the middle of church, my husband looked over at me and said "what the hell -- you're not Claude Dodd!" I had picked up and had been wearing the wrong name tag. That may not sound so funny now, but at the time, after that dream, it was hilarious.

Sing Along

There's something about overhearing someone singing along with music in a store that just makes me smile. They are so in the moment and totally unaware of people turning around to see who's singing. It's not that they even have a particularly good voice and are trying to show off -- I think they just feel like singing.

The power that music has over us has always fascinated me. I remember reading that if you experienced a mental block about something, put it out of your mind and do something else for a while. Then, after a while, start singing -- and the song that would come into your head would be related to what you were trying to remember. Sounds strange, but I remember experimenting with this and it working. I've read about clinics using music and songs to stimulate memory deficits in older patients, or probably any one who suffers from dementia or head trauma. It's something about music and speech being processed in different parts of your brain so you don't really lose music.

Just some Thursday Trivia for you.

Listening to the Universe

This morning after my walk, I stretched and looked up at the sky and said "Show me how to listen. Don't let me miss it. I'll pay attention." I finished my stretching, went into the house and made coffee. When the coffee beeped its completion, I poured a cup and decided to sit outside. Before going outside though, I went to my studio and picked up a book of daily meditations. This is not something I do every day, or even now and then. The book is one that gave me great peace about four years ago when I was healing from an accident and a struggling marriage.

I sat down with my coffee and opened the book to August and for some reason decided to read yesterday's meditation instead of today's. My throat closed up as I read:

Learn to tell how you react to what you see and hear. That's how you'll learn to listen to what the universe has to say. That place may be the next place you're to go on your path. The idea may be just what you're looking for to help you get unstuck. . . . value your passions and the way you feel. Soon you'll find yourself knowing just what to do and when.

I said a silent 'thank you' and got a second cup of coffee.

Life After Life

Part of it is my age, I'm sure, and part of it is probably coincidence, but so many things lately have been linked to death that it's making me stop and go "hmmm."

For instance, my daughter found an obit she wrote for herself as a workshop assignment several years ago; I went to a funeral yesterday; I listened to James Taylor's "Fire and Rain" and could not stop crying (...but I always thought I'd see-ee-ee you again ..."; Tom and I been talking about wills and trusts; conversations with random people have taken place about what people would remember about you and what you wanted them to remember; and now the blog 37 Days is having people write about what they would do if they knew they only had 37 days to live. That's easy for me. I'd walk right in and quit my job.

The idea of thinking about what you'd do if you only had a certain number of days to live is to then ask yourself what's keeping you from doing those things now? It's the idea of living intentionally, living life to the fullest.

My husband keeps saying "You're going to live a long time" and I hope he's right. But I'm feeling a sense of urgency to do things that have a "what if" underlying the not doing them.

Mixed Media Exhibit

I went to a mixed media art opening on Sunday. It's an annual event and one of my favorites to attend. This year a friend of mine had three pieces in it so it was especially exciting to attend. I think I like this event because there's so much unleashing of rules. Of course, like anything, there really ARE rules. Layer over layer, which one first. Trial and error. It looks so simple, and yet there's nothing more intimidating than a blank sheet of anything. One thing I noted was "no calligraphy represented." This gives me something to think about for next year.

Felting seemed to be the "new" medium this year. There were about five pieces incorporating felting in some way. In fact, the "Best of Show" was felting over an old corset. [photo 1]

Mixed media can probably take credit for coming up with "Green art." The idea of recycling is what mixed media is all about -- using things that might otherwise be thrown away. Another thing noticeable was the incorporation of pets into the art. There they were -- front and center. A sculpture with the title of "Watch Dog" was the epitome of recycle. [photo 2]

And then there was the Ultimate in Visual Journaling -- a book that wasn't an altered book but a wildly constructed fabric book, loaded up with sketches, collage, cast-off jewelry -- rich rich textures. [photo 3]

This is just a sampling of the exhibit. Sorry, other than art by Donna Sledge (photos 4,5,6), I didn't make notes on names of the artists. The photo for #6 doesn't really do it justice. It's a torso with flattened beer cans attached with oxygen tubing. The piece is entitled "Six-pack Abs."

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