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I had yesterday’s post all planned out but our internet connection at work was spotty, and then failed altogether in the afternoon.  I was late getting home, threw dinner together and then worked on a project for my mom - a fountain for her front porch*.  A simple, but messy project indeed. By the time I finally sat down at the computer I discovered that our home service was also down (not related to the work problems). Today, of course, I have no recollection of what I had planned to post.  No surprise really since I rarely impart important information - hee.

I spent the remainder of my evening toying with an illustration idea I have for the blog header while watching NCIS and House.  It has been a while since I sat down with a pencil and a dauntingly clean piece of paper, probably because its not something I’m very good at.  But, I did enjoy the quiet concentration and should challenge myself to that pass-time more often. I was working, for the first time, with water color pencils.  Going back with the wet paint brush to blend reminded me of the puzzle books that I had as a child, the ones with a special pen that ‘revealed’ the answer.  It was amazing the difference a little water made, though in one or two places I really just made a muddy colored mess.

My plans tonight are much the same, with a little mending thrown in.  Mending is something else I tend to leave unfinished.  D has a big pile of things that need buttons, and Mackie has several toys that a bleeding stuffing.  Both are nice quite things to do in front of the TV and as D is totally enamored with a computer project these days its as good an occupation as any.

It is difficult to believe that January is already over; slow the bus down already!  And February always seems to zip by; amazing what those two or three missing days do to my perception of time isn’t it?  I’ve done well so far with my ‘big project - little project’ plan and hope to continue into February.  I think I’ll start the month with the ‘big project’ and repair the drywall in the garage, laundry room, front room and D’s office.  Gee, that list makes it look like I go around punching holes in walls but that’s not true.  These are all ‘unfinished’ spots.  The garage was never repaired after we had to replace the hot water heater, the laundry room never repaired after we had to replace the valve box for the washer connection, the front room never repaired after a leak in the roof damaged the ceiling above the window, and D’s office never repaired after the last tub/shower repair.  Proof positive that I’m great at starting a project and lousy at finishing one.

*Mom has decided to move back to the mid-west and is getting her place together for resale.  She is particularly fond of ‘staging’ and has filled her condo with orchids and water sounds

Friday’s lunch was a blast and I knew it would be, but I doubt that we’ll be able to pull it off monthly as Ms. D suggested (with the best of intentions, I’m sure).  The catalyst for our meeting was the death of her cousin and his wife several years ago.  An overpass collapsed on their car.  It was a horrible thing for her whole family.  While visiting for the funeral my friend’s aunt counseled her to ‘keep your girlfriends close, they’ll get you through’.  It just took her a while to heed the advice, and that is no surprise as she is even better at procrastination than I am.  For example, she mentioned during lunch, that she really needed to call her wedding photographer as she never received her photos.  This summer, she and her husband will be celebrating their fourth anniversary.  FOURTH!  I love her, but she can be a flake!

Still, she never fails to crack me up.  When I arrived at the restaurant there were easily ten or twelve highway patrol cars parked in the parking lot (obviously there for lunch and not an emergency).  Ms. D was seated directly across from a table of six officers, and she was trying to hide the fact that she was drinking a margarita.  This particular restaurant is ‘two for one’ drinks all day on Friday so her second ‘rita was sitting in front at my place (so they wouldn’t think she was having two).  ‘Course, I plopped down in my seat, thanked her for the drink and took a swig before I realized what she was up to ... yeah, I’m a flake too.

The weekend was both busy and lazy; a nice combination.  We got most of our chores and errands buttoned up on Saturday and spent Sunday at favorite pass times (I read a book and D played online).  Though it dawned grey on Sunday it didn’t rain and by mid-day it was bright sun shiny but very windy and cool.  I’d never be able to live in Chicago, as I find strong wind rather annoying.  The house creaking and popping, garbage cans flying away, and some odd banging (palm frond against the gutter) drove me to distraction.  I tried to sew but was having trouble keeping warm enough, it was much better curled in my chair with a blanket and a cat or four, so reading and movie watching fit the bill perfectly.  In fact, I expect that’s where I’ll be most nights this week as the temperature is finally predicted to drop down into our winter range (30-40s).  I know that no one north of Tampa is crying for me, as your temps are far colder than mine, but trust me when I say even that comparatively mild range is difficult (and painful), and I’ll be glad when we drift back to the 60-80 range.

Non related news: There was a message on my answering machine Friday when I got home saying that the biopsy results from the ‘maturity spot’ the dermatologist removed from my knee were in.  This news aggravated me for two reasons.  First: I signed enough paper to have purchased a new car and I’m sure one page at least gave them permission to leave results on the machine or call me at work.  Secondly, and with a great deal more aggravation: Could you imagine having something removed that you were worried about (I was not in this case) and come home on a Friday to find that message?  Why worry someone through an entire weekend...gah how I do dislike the medical bureaucracy sometimes!  Anyway, as suspected the maturity spot that looked to me like a wart was in fact a wart.  Ewwww!

Somehow this week has managed to streak by and an abysmally slow rate.  How it could seem harried and fast and long at the same time I’ll never know, but it has been one of those weeks, and I’m incredibly happy that its Friday.  Happier still that rain is predicted for Sunday, and if you’ve been visiting UfO long enough, you know my ‘rainy Sunday’ rule*.  It does not rain often this time of year, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed; I could use a ‘day off’.

I received a phone call from an old, and sometimes unreliable friend, and we are going to lunch today.  I’m not being mean when I say ‘unreliable’, its just a true fact.  When I first moved to Florida she and her now ex husband were my neighbors across the hall.  In fact, she was my first friend in Florida, and I love her dearly.  But time and miles have separated us quite a bit and I see her maybe once a year - usually around our birthdays as they are both in November.  More often than not we make grand plans and she ends up bailing at the last minute, and I let that hurt my feelings (oh so many times).  So a few years ago I resolved to ‘stop the madness’ and quit allowing my feelings to be hurt.  Basically I enjoy myself immensely when we do get together, and don’t worry about it when we don’t.  Since she called this morning I’m betting she’ll follow through on this one ... again, I’m crossing my fingers.

All in all, my Friday and weekend look very promising ... fingers crossed,

On and off for the last week or so I’ve been playing with one of my Christmas gifts, an EZcube pop up light tent.  My mom gave me cash to buy one (she was out of town most of the shopping season) and I sweetened the deal by popping for two of their color balanced bulbs.  I also picked up two cheap-o clamp on lamps from my favorite art supply store.  Voila, instant photo studio.  With the added benefit that when the tent is put away I have awesome light for sewing.  The thing is pure genius!  And best of all, day or night, I can take a color perfect photo.

See, aren’t you just dying for a BLT now? (oh bacon, how I do love thee).

There is one problem with it though, there is usually a line to use it.

But sometimes that pays off pretty well too.

Yesterday’s visit to the dermatologist was mostly uneventful with the exception that he removed a ‘maturity spot’ from my knee and saddled me with two more big words whose definitions include the phrase ‘[a disease] we do not quite understand’.  Nothing life threatening, only occasionally painful, prone to infection, looks like hell, and is guaranteed to spread to all of my lower legs as I age – Oh. The. Joy.  The upside is that I have a better understanding of how to take care of it, and what I believe is a more accurate diagnosis than I had previously gotten from my DO or my rheumatologist.  Still, being an overachiever in odd maladies is a rather peculiar hobby and one that I really think I should consider abandoning, don’t you?

A note about this entry.  All the images are photos of photos and the quality has suffered accordingly, but I hope you get the idea.

My hair and I have had a long and difficult relationship that began the day it failed to appear, in other words, the day I was born.

In fact it failed to show up until I was nearly two, and my mother was forced to tape bows to my head so that people knew that I was a girl.

When it did show up it was a wild, unruly mess most of the time.

But it didn’t bother me much, as at that age it was my mother’s problem not mine, and accordingly she was my hairstylist until my early teens.  And that meant home perms ... terrible, scalp burning, home perms.

Or, worse yet, ‘grown-out’ home perms.

My first professional haircut was worse than the perms, it was a long Dorothy Hamil and I hated it with a passion (but I loved that shirt- heh).

And I was stuck with Dorothy until I reached high-school where I took matters into my own hands, and one day at the mall I paid someone to do this:

I was so, terribly proud of that hair cut, I believed that I was finally cool.  Yeah, I was a deluded teenager.  I don’t think I even had that cut trimmed, I believe from there I simply began to let it grow.  I was desperate to have hair down to my ass.  Secretly I still am, and though when it comes to long hair I am follically challenged, it was many, many years before I gave up.

I did manage to dress it up for my first prom.

But mostly, it was a long, stringy mess,

that I teased, and pinned,

and fluffed,

and believed looked great.

And I suppose that sometimes it did, when I spent a great deal of time on it.  Mostly though, I pulled it back with a barrett, or into a pony tail, or the dreaded banana clip (that I was still using in ‘99).

And one day I woke up, and admitted to myself that I have fine hair, and very little of it, it is simply not destined to be down to my ass, and I had it cut.  Suddenly Dorothy and I were sharing the bathroom mirror again.

Problems with my hands started and my hair got shorter, and I’ve had basically the same style for five years now.  And, to be honest, I started liking my hair for probably the first time in my life, and I finally forgave it for being late.

And that’s my history hairstory.

Yesterday’s absence was brought on by simply taking a day off.  The stereo died in D’s car, tantamount to a disaster for him, so we drove to Tampa to have it repaired.  We spent the ride up people and vehicle watching, and had particular fun trying to figure out what ‘MBM’ printed on the side of a semi stood for.  The winner: Mighty Big Mammaries – which several hours later we applied in unison to an unsuspecting pedestrian who truly fit the monogram. Our waiting room time was squandered reading and watching movies - the dealership has a nice flat screen TV and about 50 dvd’s (and a PlayStation).  We enjoyed a late lunch, a leisurely drive home, and capped our evening sitting on the lanai reading.  It was a very low key, nondescript day and I enjoyed it immensely.

Today, back at work, I started my morning off-loading bags of mulch for the flower bed in front of the office, and spent some time spreading it around the shrubs.  I watered the hedge I installed some months ago and pulled a few weeds, before settling at my desk.  The same desk that I cannot currently see for all the paper scattered on it - and I have a big desk.

My weekend plans include returning to the office tomorrow to finish up with the flower bed, plant a few annuals, and trim up the shrubs.  Some yard work at home (tree trimming, urgh!) a little cleaning (the house, and the closet are still looking pretty good), a little sewing and a quiche - - I have sooooo been craving quiche!  With luck I’m hoping that there will also be a trip into town to the art supply store, and the gourmet grocery, but they are pretty low on the list and very time consuming.

Monday I have an appointment with a dermatologist for a spot check (pun intended) and to see if he can suggest anything to improve the appearance of my legs.  I’m very sure he’ll find two or three places he’ll want to lop off, and I’m a little apprehensive about that, but in the end I’m sure it will be no big deal.  In truth, I’m more frightened of the bill than the knife - heh.  My health insurance deductible rolls over at the first of each year so nothing will be covered on this visit and having never been before I really have no idea what to expect.  I’d wager that it won’t be cheap.

Well, that’s all the news I have, I wish you all a wonderful weekend.

As I was letting the dog out last night, my eyes drifted star-ward and I was struck with the thought that, “I think too small.  I worry about clean closets, bounced checks and work, yet there is so much more going on, not just in the world, but the universe.” With some sort of selfish tunnel vision I focus on that which is closest to me and miss both the very small and the very vast that surrounds me everyday.  I am shortchanging myself.

So where is the balance between the everyday hum-drum and the ability to appreciate all that surrounds you?  Winning the lottery comes to mind first, and though they say money isn’t everything I’d give it a go.  Joining Hare Krishna, Buddhism or another peace loving and secluded religion is also a consideration.  But I’m probably too attached to hair spray and steak dinners for that to stick very long.  What then, if enlightenment is beyond my mortal reach? 

Simple.  Appreciate the moments, and things that I do notice.  Having the very thought ‘that I think too small’ is balance in itself.  It was a reminder that I am more than the tissue hanging from my skeleton, and more than the grey matter behind my eyes.  And it was lovely just to stand and contemplate the distance between me and the stars, and forget for a moment that there were dishes yet to do.

How’s my day you ask?  Well, two words .... Bounced Check !!!! grrrrrrrrrrrr!

I’m embarrassed to say how freaking tired, aching and sore I am after two days of painting, hauling, hanging, laddering and a fair amount of cursing.  I would be more embarrassed to show you the before photo if I didn’t have such a lovely after photo to share as well.  Parts of the plan didn’t go quite as I figured, including being done in time today to spend sunset on the lanai with a book and a glass of wine, but the end result is more than worth the trials.  The photo’s aren’t the greatest as the sun had already set by the time I finished, but I think you can get the general idea.  Any bets on how long it stays this way (or whether or not D gets yelled at the first time he puts laundry away - heh).

When I woke up this morning I was very sure that if the house were to get quite again that I’d be able to sleep another hour.  I hate waking up tired, almost as much as I hate waking up with a headache (especially one I didn’t earn-heh).  Unfortunately work was waiting and quiet or not there was no sleeping in.  I’ve felt ‘muzzy’ all day; its possible I’m coming down with something, but I refuse to admit it, refuse I say!

Just in case some part of me was trying to get out of the ‘too big’ project I have planned this weekend I trotted off to Home Depot at lunch and picked up the supplies I’ll be needing. D is working Saturday, and when he found out what I have planned he figures he might be able to go in on Sunday as well; the big chicken!

It would be so very nice to finish on Saturday, and to that end I’m planning on unloading the closet tonight when I get home.  I’ll bet though that it will be something like eating a big salad, I’ll just keep taking things out but it won’t even seem like I’m making a dent.  Still, I’m hopeful and I’m planning on spending Sunday afternoon sitting on the lanai, with a good book and a better glass of wine.  Wish me luck!

The Kim Family Auction was wildly successful earning almost $17,000 and getting a nice little write up on the ‘People’ website.  My personal contribution was considerably smaller, and not the $75 I had hoped for, but I believe that every bit helps - even the little ones.  I’m somewhat concerned for the ladies who sponsored the auction, some of the bids were well beyond the listed ‘regular retail’ price of the items and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they are able to collect it all.  I have no trouble seeing someone getting caught up in the moment of interacting with these ‘internet stars’ and bidding beyond their means.  Hopefully everyone played nice.

I’ve been using the auction site as a list of new web places to visit and it has really been interesting to ‘meet’ these talented folks.  To me there is a hard line between art and craft, and most of these folks are standing firmly on the art side.  Growing up, I think I expected that one day Id be standing there among them.  I took every art class I could and majored in it in college and I learned a lot.  The biggest lesson being that as designers go I was ‘run-of-the-mill’ and ‘mediocre’, as well as being one among many.  Now, don’t go filling my comment box with admonitions about being too hard on myself, that’s not what this is about. 

While still in college I understood that at best I’d be working in an art department, probably in a large company, churning out someone else’s ideas.  One of my first job offers was to be part of an art department made up of only two people and I jumped on it.  As it turned out the man doing the hiring selected his employees based on personality type and not talent.  He believed that people came in two varieties, generative and structural.  Generative folks were creative, head-in-the-clouds types, and the structural ones were, well, anal.  I was considered structural, and I was actually being hired to keep my generative and artistic partner on track.  In addition it wasn’t what anyone would call and art department, it was a glorified sign shop.  I did though learn quite a bit about vinyl lettering, running a plotter, a Mac, and using Illustrator and Quark.  It was not a total loss, but neither was it a healthy, enjoyable environment.

When my dad opened his business and asked me to come and run it with him I fled Georgia, eschewing my so called ‘art’ job for some simple sanity.  Every once in a while I’m asked to do a logo or a brochure, and I do the advertising for the office which amounts to nearly nothing.  I sketch from time to time.  Sometimes I get the urge to paint - odd because I was never a good painter.  Mostly though I appreciate the art of others rather than produce my own.  I do not have the vision necessary to create art, and I accept that.

I’m often proud of the objects that I produce but I would not call them art Some craft is art, and some art is craft.  Visit any local Arts & Crafts show for an example.  Bent copper sprinklers and sun catchers will sit alongside pottery bowls and watercolors.  Leather roses, blue geese, photographs, soaps, lotions, and kettle corn will spread out in every direction and possibly, every vendor there believes he is producing art, even the guy with the leather roses (though, personally the kettle corn comes closer).  The most talented painter at the show could be producing craft if he is just painting what he sees and not capturing the way he sees it.  Art, for me, is about revealing your perspective and emotions to the viewer and not just about reproducing a scene.

Ultimately the conundrum is rather like trees falling in the woods, if no one appreciates what an artist pronounces as art is it still art?  I say no, it is not art simply because the artist says so.  The number of steps, or discoveries made during it’s production are interesting but do not necessarily make it art.  Simply put, I decide what is art for me and you decide what is art for you, which means someone could be looking at a ‘velvet Elvis’ as art.  So be it, prerogative is everything.

At the same time I do not belittle the crafters out there.  Craft provides me the outlet to be creative without the pressure to produce art.  I find pleasure creating something useable from a pile of fabric.  It is enjoyable to figure out a pattern and solve the problems that arise, despite the words that may be falling from my mouth when I encounter them.  I feel accomplished when I finish things, and I do finish things.  I envy those people on that list that see art in everything, and find ways to share it as such, but at heart I am a crafter, and I am content to craft.  It may not be what I set out to do, or seem like an accomplishment to someone standing over my shoulder, but that’s the beauty of craft.  It isn’t about what someone else thinks, it’s about what I gain by crafting.

Which ever you choose, craft or art ... or as in my case, which ever chooses you ... enjoy it.  In the end that is what really matters.

*****

In completely unrelated news, last night while measuring and planning for the great closet adventure this weekend it occurred to me that while I have most of the shelving out I really should paint the closet.  This is why I never get things finished; this ability of mine to turn a fairly straight forward project into a huge remodel.  I ‘need’ to do it right the first time but ‘right’ is often more work than I have energy to complete.  Still, I’m painting the closet this weekend.  Will it be done, shelves hung and organized come Monday morning?  I’m betting not, but we’ll see.  Oh, and while I’m on the subject, is it weird to paint the closet interior white and the room another color? 

As well as my ‘big project, little project’ plan for the new year I’ve also been trying to do a little something around the house a few minutes each night after I get home.  This is a bit of a burr under my saddle because I’m already responsible for dinner most nights but I’m trying to let that go and concentrate how much more ‘me’ time this is going to give me on the weekends.  The theory being that twenty minutes each night and ten each morning will mean I’m two and a half hours ahead in my house keeping.  Happily, this worked very well last weekend as I only had about an hour of work to do.  And I’ve kept it up through this week as well, which really paid off when friends showed up unexpectedly on Monday night.  I’m not a good house keeper and on top of that I tend to walk in the house and set things down on the first flat surface I come to.  It will be a miracle if I kick this particular bad habit. 

My extra weekend time allowed me to read a little, go to a movie and lunch with D, and finish a ‘little project’.  The drain on one of the sinks has been slow for months and I finally took the time to take down the trap and clean it out.  But before I could do the’ happy touchy dance’ because the water was zipping down the drain I realized that both valves under the sink are corroded and leaking very slightly.  The hot water line was even building a stalactite of mineral deposits - grrr!  Little project turned big project; oh how I do hate plumbing!  I added it to the list, and hopefully the leak will remain small until I’m in the mood to tackle it.

I’m hoping to finish this month’s big project this weekend, and baby it’s a doozie!  It is not technically an ‘unfinished project’, it falls more under the category of ‘past time to do’, but since I’m making the rules I say it counts.  I have resigned myself to tackle the master bedroom closet.  Oh. The. Horror.  It is one of the few places in the house that hasn’t had a complete clean out.  In addition to organizing and reducing its contents I hope to replace two of the shelves with wider ones, and reuse one of the removed shelves on the opposite side of the closet.  It shouldn’t be too much of a hassle as wire shelving and I get along much better than plumbing and I do - heh.  I’ll probably take a before and after photo, but be warned the ‘before’ won’t be pretty.

Jade is dead, I killed her.  My online alter-ego just wasn’t working. I originally invented the name as a way to semi protect my identity, but since most everyone who knows me links to me by my name rather than “Jade” or “Unfinished Object” I really wasn’t hiding much.  So, if you email “Jade” please change it to “Shan” with the same @ Thanks.

When I was young people always told me how ‘adult’ I seemed, or ‘how happy I was going to make some man someday’ and at the time comments like that never failed to make me swell with pride.  Of course in my twenties those same statements would stand my hair on end and turn my eyes green*.  Now, nearly out of my thirties, I realize how ‘grown up’ I haven’t been, ever.  Lately the life lessons seem to be coming at me from every corner, things I should have known or understood years ago.  Some very basic, some very complex. 

I’ve always thought that being single and childless at thirty, and thirty five, and now almost forty has played a big role in my extended adolescence.  I haven’t experienced those responsibilities and therefore haven’t grown in that particular manner.  Sure I have a mortgage and credit card bills, I hold down a job and make a car payment; I’ve been acting the adult for more than a few years.  But as it turns out it wasn’t being single and childless that was retarding my maturity, it was loss.  I hadn’t experienced loss.

There have been deaths in my family, of course, but they were all distant.  Great grandmothers, great aunts and uncles; people that had seemed old and frail from the time I first met them.  I even had a friend who killed herself.  Once we were inseparable, but by the time she committed the act we were many years and many miles apart.  Even the news, when it came, was six months old.  At the time it bothered me that I couldn’t seem to cry for her, I remember only being angry that she’d chosen to be so stupid.

In 2005, on the day before my birthday, my grandmother died, we had about four days notice.  In 2006 my aunt passed away after six terrible weeks, and a week later my grandfather died.  Three very different deaths; my grandmother’s was unexpected but acceptable in time, my grandfather’s a sad blessing and my aunt’s an outright tragedy and perhaps the greatest loss.  Three very different griefs and three very different senses of loss.  I got a crash course in ‘growing up’ and though painful I cannot say I’d change who it has made me today.

Sure, I’m a little more dour and far too aware of my own mortality as well as that of those I love.  But I am also happier than I’ve been in a long time because I’m taking time for myself and not sweating the small stuff - as much.  I’ve gained the ability to ‘shrug-off’ folks that aren’t acting like true friends, and I accept them for what they are - acquaintances.  My ego is still bruiseable, my failed journal foray as an example, but there too I just made my own contribution and moved on to the next project.  My skin has thickened, something that has needed to happen for years.  Perhaps strangest of all is a pervasive feeling of wisdom.  “Older and wiser” has taken on a true meaning and I believe I am better for it, forty does not bother me (though you may want to remind me of that in about eleven months).  I’ve no idea what 2007 holds, and I’ll make no predictions because I know good or bad I am strong enough to take it and learn from it whatever may come.

*My eyes go a little green when I’m really ticked off.