I don't know about you all, but I've eaten cornbread stuffing and green bean casserole for the last 3 days. The last 3 days. I really wish my laptop had emoji's because this calls for the eyes closed, straight mouth one. It's okay, someone told me once that people who use emoji's have a better sex life. time.com/3694763/match-com-dating-survey-emoji-sex/
I walked into the bathroom because, you know, I needed a shower. I swear my scale looked at me like, "What up, bitch?" I was all, "What are you looking at?" and did a little fake move.
I re-established my gym goals and got in the shower. I came out to a full on Star Wars invasion. I was just trying to get ready for church. For church, for heaven sakes! Having married a military officer and gave birth to children with Nerf guns in their hands, I should know better. My child shouted, "Ventress! Get her!"
View from my bathroom, I went to shower unarmed and I lost.
After church and praying for the souls of my children, I tippy toed into the studio. I was wondering what the vibe was, as it had been a about a week and a half. That adorable little caterpillar, Sam, was looking at me like, "Hey Girl...".
Wait, What were we talking about?
Sam. A few little finishing touches was all he was looking for so...I got right on that. Unfortunately,
I wasn't "feeling it". I don't think this was a Muse issue, I think (hope) it was a time thing. Could be an overstuffed with cornbread and green beans issue. By the time I post this, I was hoping that Sam was done and I could show you. After I painted a few eyeballs and noses I realized that, for real, it was not happening. I was not feeling it.
I hope you can all "feel" me here. Sometimes you are on and there is no stopping you. It's like fever. Unfortunately for me, sometimes, it's just not like that. Sometimes it's forced because of deadlines or what ever self-inflicted pressures. I just couldn't get into it. I fixed what I could and decided tomorrow was another day. I poured a glass of wine to go with my final helping of cornbread stuffing (I mean it, this time, the final helping). Tidied up the studio a bit just enjoying my space, made my Michael's list, prepped some stuff and did a little research on self publishing. At this moment I think I'm going with Amazon. Stay tuned...
Sometimes the love runs out, but it'll come back. Trust me. Keep on.
Earlier this week I was packing for my trip to Colorado. I heard this song. Which doesn't really apply to this post but its dancy and allowed me to go ham on my air tambourine.
I was really looking forward to this trip as I was going to see Janice -THE bff. I did, somewhere in the back of my mind, worry about the fact that if I chose to do this mini vacay, I would miss out on studio time. With Thanksgiving 3 days after I got back, I could kiss the studio goodbye for another week. I ignored that little worry because, man, you gotta live, right?
I was only going for 3 days and I packed a huge suitcase. My husband was all, "Why?" My answer was "options". We had plans for dinner in Lodo where I might be in the mood for a dress and heels or maybe jeans and my cool, new boots. Hiking means boots and jeans but not the good going out jeans and different boots. B-day party for her dad -again with the dress and heels or leggings and boots issue. Plus, what to travel in. Since Janice and I wear close to the same size, I also brought her some options; as well as my clothes that would fit her better.
I hate flying, terrified really, I think of terrorists, dying (which I can't because my kids still need me) and imagined plane malfunctions. I'm not sure if you've ever flown into Denver when the weather report says 'gusty' with a little wind emoji, but it really makes you think about the last time you were in rough turbulence -you had no idea what rough turbulence was. I felt like a paint can that the Home Depot person puts into that shake machine. Janice, I have to add, knew it was going to be rough and purposely withheld this info. She did however, send me this text.
After a harrowing ride, a good friend buys you a drink, the bff has 3 shots waiting for you in a flask.
The first night we opted to drink too much while we were out to dinner with her dad and husband. While sitting in this fabulous restaurant, drinking too much, we had a really inappropriate conversation. Really. Inappropriate. Also, seems like when we start losing sobriety we make up for it in volume. Here we are in Lodo leaving the restaurant.
The next night her dad celebrated his 70th birthday. This man, does more hiking, traveling and shenanigans than anyone I know. He looks more like 50. Janice and I were trying to rally for the event because of our bad behavior in Lodo. It should be noted that her father needed no rally efforts. He even took the kids and the dog hiking that next morning.
As we decorated for the party, we opted to take a shot, hair of the dog, if you will, 'cause we were struggling. Janice, ever the trooper, says, "If I'm not feeling any better in 30 minutes, I'm taking another shot." I kind of shuddered as the first shot had to go down with a deep breath and a little prayer (Please, little baby Jesus, make it stay down). I responded with, "Where you go, I go." She laughed as I think she noticed the shudder, I also may have turned a shade of green. Needless to say we had that second shot.
Right as the guests started to show I realized that those shots were starting to hit me. Mighta been when I opted to introduce myself as "Hi, I'm Tonya Jean." Tonya Jean? I never use my middle name, verbally; as in never ever. Janice looks at me and says, "Wow, are those shots hitting you too?" We burst into laughter and I realized we had fully rallied. We did more drinking as we made our way through the guests and dinner. I kinda got stuck at the wrong table at one point with an aunt who was of a mind to reminisce. I love that, I do, so I stayed with her. Then, I was talking to my other new favorite person, the sister-in-law, until I look over at Janice at the cousins table. Note to self: always sit at the cousins table. My sides still hurt. At one point, I think it was a cousins husband (?), anyway he flipped me off, so I explained to him that he'd have to try harder if he wanted to offend me 'cause I will say it 'til I die, "Go Big Red!"
The next day we decided to go hiking with the kids, including teeny tiny Tabitha, of I Don't Care. She is still tiny and at 2 still figuring out the concept of "hiking". Sort of a 2 steps forward, 1 step backward kind of hike. It was the perfect way to recover from the party the night before. Eventually, Janice and I had to split from the rest of the family to head to Red Rocks so she could do a photo shoot. I was the "assistant". Pretty cool watching the bff do her thing in person. I got a John Denver T-shirt.
Sadly, Monday morning came so I had to go. Janice sent me off with a Xanax and a hug. When her dad was loading me up, lugging my huge suitcase into his truck, he says, "You were only here for 3 days, right?!" Again, my only defense was "options". Sitting in my window seat on the way back home, I was thinking about how awesome Xanax is, particularly for terrified flyers, as I was not scared at all. I was also thinking about options, should I have a Bloody Mary while on Xanax? Should we do our next trip together in Nevada or somewhere in between CO and SC? Husbands? If this lady next to me with the heart glasses tries to talk to me should I be a tired traveler and feign sleep or just dive into her brand of crazy?
While we do our thing, we may struggle with the options, choices and decisions presented to us. I like to think of the example Janice's dad has always been for us, live every moment of your life. Be still when you have to, say like, when opting to hike with a 2 year old. Have fun -choose to misbehave in Lodo. Work hard, like when having to split from family time to do work. Mistakes will be made but they are also opportunities, like having wardrobe options after lugging a huge suitcase across the country.
A couple posts ago I promised you new stuff -I think I even said "Monday". I have been in the studio and it has been glorious. I painted an autumn sun where I used this gold paint that I've been wanting to experiment with forever. Gold paint...I was all...
The thing is, I have a rudimentary operation, I use my cell phone to take photos of whatever I'm working on. I needed to wait for the sun to get the best lighting for my paintings (and because of gold) but it has been overcast/raining for what feels like weeks. We finally saw the sun and I was all fired up to do the photos, right after I tended to the chickens and I might as well get the leaves out of the pool when suddenly -my life stalled out. I dropped my phone into the pool. Yep, I was talking to my friend Amie, thought I'd multi-task with the leaf situation; when plop...into the drink.
Funny little side note here, it disconnected with Amie and dialed my sister; all by itself, under the water. As I was fishing it out, I saw my sister text me in response, "What? I'm at work" and Amie with, "I'll just talk to you later." I finally got it out and pushed every button on it before I had the latent 'maybe I shouldn't be pushing buttons' thought. I stuck it in a bag a rice and contacted my media specialist, my 14 year old daughter, Anna.
I asked Anna if I could borrow her Coolpix camera. (The one I bought for her.) Suddenly it was like I was playing 20 questions. Why do I need it? Where's my phone? Did I put it in rice? Did I push any buttons? Why would I do that? Do I understand I just made it worse? Ending this silly game, I pulled rank and demanded the Coolpix. She agreed under the conditions that it was for a limited time and that I delete any pictures I take. Sealing it with a pinky swear, I got busy taking pictures. Now should I use the laptop with the broken left Shift key or the desk top that is so slow it took 15 minutes to send a email? I wish I was exaggerating.
Here is the sun and surprisingly enough, Sam.
My friend Amelia Shea (erotic author extraodinaire) and I got to talking and not only did we cover children, crazy people and past boyfriends, we got into our selective arts. She is frustrated because the book she thinks she should be writing is not happening, while this other book, is begging to be written. I was all, "Just write the book you want to." Easy right? She gave me a look. I gave her a blank stare, "What?"
"You can relate," she said. I was struck because, the thing I think I should be doing, calendar/suns, mugs/dishes isn't filling me with joy and I think I need to do What's It saying? That book has been in my mind for...how old is Anna?
We decided to write/do the thing that is been pulling at us. For her it's the other book, for me I thought it was What's It Saying? I sat down, pulled out a canvas, and holy shit, I painted Sam the sinful little caterpillar. What the...?
That Muse, fickle little minx, she is said, "Oh! A cute little caterpillar!"
Remember Janice of we were almost a gang? Over beer thirty I was telling her my epiphany and I swear to God I HEARD her eyes roll, "Oh. So you came to the conclusion you should be in the studio painting what you want?" Janice, as I mentioned, is not only stalwart and unafraid; she can also be sarcastic. The lesson today, do what is in your heart. When I started doing what I thought would make money or what everyone else was telling me to do I kind of stalled out. Do your thing.
“When your mother asks, "Do you want a piece of advice?" it's a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway.” ― Erma Bombeck
I absolutely love Erma Bombeck. This woman did it. I love everything she wrote. She makes me think of my mother. My mom. I'm not about to wax on about how wonderful she is, she's my mom, she couldn't always be wonderful. She raised all 6 of us to leave her house and live on our own. We were never to be a doormat, nor a problem. She raised us to be be accountable for ourselves, to pray, and to handle our shit. -Plus she had her own shit she was working out.
My mom did not have time for our opinions on her advice because she knew she knew better. My mom is tough and very smart. Sometimes I wish she saw herself as I see her. So when she was here telling me what I should and shouldn't do with the art thing I do, the child/daughter in me protests while the adult/mother in me gets it and tries to be patient.
My mom was just here for a "turn an' burn". Meaning she was here for a very short time. She traveled half a country for my daughter's confirmation and didn't stay for even 72 hours. Not enough time, then again, maybe too much time because I still managed to piss her off. This woman, who giggled with me over "loving wife and mother" because she gets it, also had a lot of advice about what I should do, should've already done and how I should do it. My response was, "Damn." with maybe a little bucking.
First response aside, thinking further on it, she knows me and my potential and she wants me to do it, no excuses. She doesn't want to hear the plan, she wants to see it. She wants me to do what she thinks I can, even if she doesn't always say it in the kindest of ways. Mom's...right?
My mom and Anna
As I type this, I just told my 8 year old to stop drinking stupid (he was drinking a Gatorade with his head tilted, pouring it down his cheek into the side of his mouth. A red Gatorade.) I guess we all have those unkind moments.
The stuff I pissed her off about wasn't even related to the thing I'm doing. It was past crap that all families have -no one gets out unscathed. I should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn't. That past crap though, made me forget to thank her for being supportive of me and to my surprise, supportive of Janice. The bff who, in mom's mind, had all the bad ideas since we were 12. For the record, most of the bad ideas were mine, Janice is stalwart and unafraid.
However, she went on and on about how wonderful Janice's photography is and I quote, "...she really has an eye for it" as she scrolled through her Facebook page (Photography by Janice, the thing she does). I could hardly believe my ears so I just reveled in it and couldn't wait to tell Janice. This was huge. But, alas, I pissed her off and missed my chance for a "moment" that she and I rarely get.
In that short time, I realized that my mom is right about a lot of the advice she gave me. She was also right about leaving past crap where it belongs. Sometimes I should maybe keep my mouth shut. I'm telling you this because everyone needs someone like my mom in their "camp".
There is no way in hell I'm going to be in the same place I was, when she visited, the next time I see her. I must show progress. God forbid, if I am in the same place with the same excuses I had the last time I saw her....this is not a situation I want to find myself. We all need this accountability person. The mugs I told her I wanted to do, are on order. The notecards, done and available for purchase. The notepads are in production. Garden flags and trivets...okay not everything is done yet but, I'll see her at Christmas, so I have a little time.
I'd also like to to tell her I actually sold something to someone other than my sisters.
Goals re-established. Confidence in place. Go get 'em.
Thanks mom.
You'll need a tissue.
Btw...I am actually in the studio...standby by for pictures. Waiting (funnily enough) for the sun.
Okay, that's it! I've been patient. I've followed the meticulous instructions for submissions, I've set up the website, I'm even blogging -on the regular! I've humbly accepted my rejection letters. I even found myself appreciating the one letter that at least recognized my talent and the time it took to put it all together, and I'm half way through my whiskey stash. I'm done pimping my baby, my T-Rexy. We are exhausted. They've missed out, those big name publisher's. I'm going to self publish this bad boy.
If I've said it once, I've said it a million times, T-Rexy is an awesome dinosaur picture book. It's got realistic facts without trying to turn your children (and yourself) into paleontologists over night, it has bright pictures, and even carnage! I've been so busy writing bio's, query letter's and reading through each and every publisher's website (twice) in fear of missing some key thing that will land me in the rejection pile that I've not been in the studio. I walk by it, give it a loving, longing glance then I sit in front of the computer. I think I've threatened to throw this damn thing out the window at least 50 times. I'm on the bottom floor so, sort of anti-climatic even if I did. It does, however, explain the dwindling Jameson supply.
This publishing process has made me question my talent, my life and the Universe/God. I'm done jerking around. So today, it ends (hear a page turn). I'm going to finish this post then I'm going to paint. I'm going to paint until I can't see straight. At this point I'm afraid of angering the Muse. She's been whispering in my ear and I've been turning away.
I have these great ideas, the spooky October sun? Still in my mind. My friend Monica's fall sun? Same place. I had a moment with foliage the other day....I hate to tell you this, it was almost sexual, all I wanted to do was put it on paper. And I what have I done? I fear if I ignore the Muse for much longer I will be punished.
“But the fact is, she [the muse] won't be summoned. She alights when it damn well pleases her. She falls in love with one artist, then deserts him for another. She's a real bitch!”
