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Last night a friend of mine put a very honest post on Facebook about the passing of her father. It was straight-forward and bittersweet. It was real. It was refreshing. As I went through my day today, I kept thinking about her pure honesty, her lesson learned and her gratitude. It helped me embrace the sunshine more as we gear up to wake up to snow tomorrow. (I am in complete denial about it and if we are talking about being real.. rather grumpy about it, too!) So I picked all of the tomatoes, kale and rhubarb, dug up the potatoes and enjoyed my bare-feet in the grass while eating the last of the raspberries. It felt luxurious as I ignored the state of the inside of my home and slowly worked my way around the beds. I then moved onto the flowers and lavender… so lovely.. so sad to see the color go.

My own father called to tell me that he and Diane were going to come up on Sunday for the Artisan Fair that Chris and I have been making things for and to see my mural in the hay-barn. It meant the world.

And then, all of a sudden I had 10 minutes before it was time to go gather boys and begin distributing them to activities. Scramble… did I even brush my teeth today? I should put on clothes that don’t have paint and holes it… HA! There is nothing in the fridge or pantry…damn it. I was suppose to go to the store. Fried green tomatoes anyone? Where are the dogs? and my keys?

I manage to get there on time and see my sweet friends and sister for a few minutes. Then we are off! I drop boys at soccer and Charlie and I head to the grocery store and manage to fill the cart to the brim in an hour. Meanwhile, the temperature has dropped, the gray clouds are rolling in and I feel like the world is closing in on me. I am not ready to say goodbye to the green, the light, and having bare-feet. I fight fall every year. Yes, the light casting long beautiful shadows is stunning, but it means I have to say goodbye to dirt under my nails for a long 6 or so months. It is so strange to just turn off this big part of me for half the year. Each year I try to find the silver lining, but I really, truly miss tending my little corner of the world. My moods sinks.

Back at home, the boys and I bust through the front door with our bags and reality hits. The sink is full of dishes and I forgot to run the dishwasher this morning.  We have to maneuver around buckets of laundry and stuff is everywhere. I can feel myself winding up and feeling overwhelmed over these little things that I know in the big picture don’t matter. So I ditch the bags on the kitchen floor and during the last few bits of daylight, I go and cover the rest of my garden, hoping to save the arugula, lettuce and herbs. I use some old white drop clothes and almost feel like there should be peaceful, dead bodies underneath. My dark thoughts catch me off guard and the uncomfortableness of death sits heavy with me.  The anticipation of those we will lose in the next decade is overwhelming at times. The fact that there is no guarantee for a tomorrow for any of us, takes my breath away. Embrace the snow and the cold, Catherine. It brings snuggles by the fire, holidays with family and friends and big comfy sweaters to go with my jeans. But still that twinge of frustration lingers. What is wrong with me?

I head back in and get to work unloading groceries and making the boys dinner. Charlie picked out turkey dogs, green beans and mac n cheese.  Chris is helping a friend today (a whole different story) so nothing gourmet happening in the kitchen tonight. All three are talking to me at once and I realize more than anything that I am just exhausted. Plain tired. So frickin’ tired, I will eat a damn hotdog.

But then I am saved by the bell.. the doorbell. There standing on my porch, my wonderful friend and neighbor Betsy is offering me warm carrot-ginger soup with toasted pumpkin seeds. I almost kissed her!  We sit to dinner and I look down to my place setting. It is this gorgeous and yummy soup, green beans in a penguin bowl, and a much needed bourbon and coke all on top of  “The Presidents of the United States of America” laminated placemat.

To my left on the floor is a bucket of laundry, but to my right and across from me are the three most beautiful, often annoying, funny, loving, and exhausting boys. They are my real light. I know when I hit the fall of my life, I am really going to struggle. Right now, I feel like these years are my summer. And,even with all the mess, chaos and exhaustion, I find myself wishing for this to be an endless summer.

 

My ears are ringing. It is so unbelievably quiet.

It is a beautiful Sunday morning. I just came in from watching the sunrise with a quarter moon still over head. No one was out walking, the birds were still asleep, and there wasn’t even the slightest breeze to make the Aspen leaves quake.The light was soft and warm at the horizon with that cool turquoise above that says that fall is here.  Inside, I can hear the clock ticking which just seems ridiculous. I notice the difference in the sound that my sweatshirt makes vs. the material of my socks. It is surreal. No dishwasher, washing machine or dryer running. Like most homes full of children and dogs, this house buzzes with activity until we collapse into bed at night.

Chris is always up at the very first glimpse of light outside. Today he is up in Wyoming fishing the Green River,  so it was me who popped out of bed early to let the dogs out. Somehow, they even know it is Sunday and have gone back to bed, where I normally am. I have always wanted to be a morning person, but…. well…after 40 years… it’s still not looking hopeful.

It is nice though to sit in the quiet space of Chris. Where he starts his day with his coffee, listening to the world wake up. I can see why he loves it so much.

Yaaaawwwwwn!!!! Perhaps I should make some tea.

Sitting in his space, I feel that I can hear his heart beat instead of my own. It is strong and centered. It is steady and calm. And it doesn’t match the quick beat of my own. I try to breath in all the way to my toes to slow it down.

POP! (fortunately not my heart, but a great memory!)

I am back in Minnesota anxiously waiting for one of the great moments of my life. The lights dim and then on stage he appears wearing red pants and a wireless heart monitor. There stood Baryshnikov!

boom, boom, boom we can hear his heart at a steady resting pace.

I am so frustrated and caught off guard as my eyes well up with tears so he was blurry for a minute.  The anticipation of getting to see him dance in person was immense.  My own heart racing. I felt like a silly school girl, until he began to dance and I realized that it was so justified to see such incredible strength, grace and expression. He was stunning. He literally danced to the beat of his own heart  which he slowed and quickened with his movements. (read more about HeartBeat: mb, here) He was powerful, beautiful and inspiring.

He was in control of every muscle in his body, moving in perfect harmony. And strangely, there was something about him that reminded me of Chris. It made no sense to me at the time and I kinda shrugged, chuckled to myself and then soaked up the rest of his performance and the rest of the show. I was so grateful that I had gotten to see Baryshnikov dance in person. Huge bucket list experience!

After the performance I couldn’t stop rambling on and on…. and on and on. And then my friend, Lori said that something about him reminded her of Chris. I couldn’t believe it. I told her too that I had thought the same and confessed I kinda giggled.  We couldn’t pin point what it was, but there was some essence that we had both picked up on. It felt kinda crazy… and cool!

Sitting here now in Chris’s space and remembering back all of those years ago, the connection of grace, strength and control makes sense to me. Baryshnikov was dancing to his heart beat; his pure essence. Chris lives that way.

He is intentional, strong and even graceful in his being. And, I can’t believe I get to dance to life along side of him.

The birds are now all chirping and awake, a train whistle blows, neighbors are walking their dogs and a few cars make their way up the hill and out of the neighborhood. I am going to go make that tea and sit a little longer until the house starts buzzing again wondering what thought will pop up next and recognizing that this time is also a great moment of my life.

Welcome to the new home for my blog… on my very own website!!! (I still have some work to do.. but it is close!)

I can’t believe it!

And, I can’t believe that this is my 50th blog post. I have missed this outlet; this place to pause, reflect and connect.

Where to begin again?

I am sure I have had at least 50 thoughts for a blogs posts since the last one.

At least 50 chores and projects I should be doing instead.

At the very least 50 reasons to be grateful we have a warm, dry house after the rains and floods in CO two weeks ago.

And, at least 50 people to thank who have helped get me to today.

In my art room, I hung some red threads above my desk and on them I put names of the people who have supported me, inspired me, pushed me, taught me, loved me, reached out to me, encouraged me, rallied with me, brainstormed with me, been honest with me, opened doors for me, laughed with me and gave me a big kick on the backside of my jeans when I needed it (you know who you are!).  I am so humbled by the amount of energy, time, and love that people have showed me to help me grow this year. This time last year, I was painting the exterior of our house bright yellow. (Confession time…the back still needs to be done. Eventually!) But, I remember as I worked on it last year, imagining a life.. no dreaming of a life where I was constantly creating and moving forward. At the time, I felt stuck and couldn’t see to the next week. And, I learned that  I was the only one standing in my own way… thanks Chris! Seriously, thank you for holding up the mirror! Never would I have imagined that I would have come this far with so far to go!  I have sold paintings here and across the country, have a show next April at Gallery Bleu, am working on a collaborative show in Colorado Springs, now have a website (with an online store no less!), am back doing some decorative finishes, just did a fun mural in a hay-barn, will be a part of an Artisan Fair next weekend… it’s crazy!!! I must say the crowning jewel is when my husband, who is the cornerstone of my life and gives so much to let me follow this dream, introduced me as an artist. It’s a title I am still not comfortable with, but it is growing on me.

So thank you!! I couldn’t have gotten to this point alone. Far from it! And, I am so grateful for  the tremendous support of family and friends, the Evolve class through AIR here in Fort Collins, and the amazing people I have met along the way. All of you, who are a part of my red thread tapestry that feels like a big comfy blanket, are helping me create this life that makes me feel like I am beginning again. And for that, I can’t thank you enough.

I can’t believe that tomorrow is THE TOMORROW….the day that I send my youngest, Chachi off to kindergarten… full day…. 5 days a week. How can it be here? Like all parents at these milestones,  I have such a bittersweet taste in my mouth and my eyes have welled up with tears off and on all day. I talked to my mom today and she said she remembered that day well for her, too. Believe me I am looking forward to having 30 hours a week to myself, getting to work in my studio and picking up paint jobs to help feed these growing boys. Or perhaps I will find a job and become part of something that I have yet to imagine yet.  I am thrilled to not be driving 3 hours a day getting boys to different schools all over town. I am not delusional, there will still be plenty of running boys here and there. But, for this year at least, it will be a lot less.

As I watched Charlie take in his supplies to school and meet his teacher today, he instantly seemed smaller and younger than I normally think of him. He was nervous and quiet but curious to find his name on his cubby and locker. He didn’t wander far from my side but managed to spot a Dalmatian stuffed animal tucked away in a basket that looks like one that he sleeps with each night. He seemed relieved to see something familiar and he flashed a big smile. He has been checking in with me a lot to show me the progress of his first loose tooth or just for a hug and I am pretty sure he has a hard time breathing as I squeeze him as tight as I can.

My role as a mother is shifting, as it should. It is still hard to let go though and know how I will fit into the days ahead. But tonight we have slipped back into our evening routine. The boys are tucked into bed while it is still light out for the first time since May. Their school clothes are laid out for the morning and their clean and beautiful faces are lit up by their reading lights. In 20 minutes, I will go down for lights out and give lots of hugs and kisses and whisper something special in each of their ears. I am grateful I have years left of this part of motherhood.

I know Charlie is ready for tomorrow. I am as well. But, I have much more confidence in him than I do in myself. Can I really take this time and use it well to create this part of myself that has been bubbling to the surface for years? Will I have have the self discipline needed to push myself forward and move through the scary parts?  In my head, I have been using tomorrow as a starting point for big dreams. Now it is here. Now it is time to step up and get to work. I am going to honor this day by painting my studio door a vibrant red and set my intentions with each brush stroke. Then I am taking my friend, who makes me laugh and smile, out to lunch for her 50th. My mom agreed that tomorrow will be bittersweet, but she said it is definitely more sweet than bitter. So with her wisdom,  I will welcome sweet tomorrow with an open heart and mind.

 

I had a to-do list a mile long. Chris was taking the boys to Virginia for a week and I was going to get sooooooooo much done. HA!

That was the plan in my head anyway and shockingly organized on paper. I think I got two things crossed off my list. I am trying not to beat myself up about it. After all, I had a wicked stomach bug for the first two days. I actually got some work done on the third. On the fourth day, I took myself on a date to Denver… banner day.. more on that later. The fifth day, I got the second thing crossed off my list before my friend from SC arrived. We then played and had too much fun. On the 6th and 7th day another friend arrived and we played and had too much fun as well… time well spent!  And then my sweet family finally came home and my house is buzzing once again.

But, I wasted so much time the first half of the week… or did I?

 Perhaps, what can’t be written down and crossed off the list is the constant work in progress. I learned how very important it is while working on a decorative finish to stop, take a break, step back and get a bigger perspective on the work in progress. It is important to see the whole room, and get a feel for what is working and what needs to change to get the right effect in the space.

 Last week ended up being just that. A step back and looking at the big picture. It was important to do. Within the quiet, I got a clearer picture of my strengths and limitations. I understand where I am really going to have to reach in order to take some necessary steps forward. That doesn’t mean I know how I am going to do that, but I know that I have to figure it out to keep moving, even if sometimes it is backwards.  I also realized that I have some foundation in my strengths and values and that I can learn and reach safely from here. And when I fall on my face, I am going to be able to get back up again. I know these thoughts are nothing new, but in the constant go, go, go of life, they are good to remember.

Thinking back to where I was a year ago in my whole art journey… well… it was only in my head, a dream. And now I am planning for two art shows, hopefully the studio tour and about to launch my website. The work in progress is layer after layer after layer… often like my paintings. Somehow they all add up and come together. Even the mistakes along the way are valuable. They can add an extra hint of color that make the whole thing work. So I am off to add more layers to my work in progress…. both on the canvas and in my life. Thanks for joining me along the way. You are the best layers of this journey.

A current work in progress….more layers needed… stay tuned…

This morning my nephew, who spends some summer days here with us, came running in the door only to gather us all out front to see a broad-tailed hummingbird.  It was stunning to watch her (I know this because of my brother in-law, Seth a.k.a “Birdie” is an incredible ornithologist with Rocky Mountain Bird Observatory) dance among the golden rod and lucifer’s tongue. She stayed a few minutes as we stood in awe.

A hummingbird’s playground… not fast enough to get her in the photo.

 I thought of my friend Laurel and her girls and sent love to all who miss them terribly. Then took a moment of gratitude to be surrounded by a gang of sleepy-eyed boys who are worn out from non-stop summer play. Seth passed me an unexpected treat….. a yummy Chai he picked up on his way over. We talked about all of the transplanting and splitting we both need to do in our gardens next month. And, how some  plants were getting too much shade, the daisies were taking over, etc… and I found myself thinking of where to put in new beds and get rid of more grass and glad to have someone to talk to who gets excited about moving plants.

The daisies have taken over the roses.

This time of year means maintenance. It’s too hot and dry to plant in our high plains desert. So I happily weed bind-weed, grass and thistle from my gardens. Last week, when I drove up into the mountains to pick up the boys from camp, the thistle were in full bloom. They were gorgeous… since they weren’t in my yard. I stopped and soaked up their stunning color. Grateful for a quiet moment and pause in my excitement of seeing the boys again and hearing about their week.

Thistles, Red Feather, CO

Chris has built two beautiful vegetable gardens giving us the space to grow some of our own food. Last year he designed and lovingly built one in the front yard, where we get the most sun. I love it. It is deer and rabbit proof, has its own sprinkler system and we have managed to pack a lot into the space. The boys love to go pick raspberries and cherry tomatoes and sit right there and enjoy them. We still have a lot to learn…I can’t grow cilantro or dill and it is better to let the 5 year old plant potatoes instead of carrots!  This year he built another garden on the hill of our backyard next to the house. I can hardly wait to eat the sweet corn straight from our yard.

Our front garden… potatoes, rhubarb, raspberries, cabbage, tomatoes, peppers, kale, arugula, spinach, carrots.. lots!, beets, radishes, and herbs

Side garden…. corn, squash, zucchini, greens, sunflowers, radishes, watermelon..maybe, pumpkins, beans, strawberries and basil

Alex’s Zinnias

You can never have too much lavender.

My favorite spot in the yard, Ry’s Peace Pond (more on that later)

This morning, my two older boys are at camp, Chris has peddled his bike into work, and Chachi is sound asleep in our bed with the sunlight pouring in on his golden head. I just folded two loads of laundry, got another one going. Got some sweet affection from my dogs, who now have gone back to bed. I came to the computer to do some homework (long over due)  for my Evolve class, which is learning the business of art, while I wait for Chachi to come stumbling in for a hug and some breakfast.

A cool, gentle breeze is coming in the new window Chris put in. The sprinkler is showering our garden for a much needed water bath. And my mosquito bites from a fun time at the lake a few nights ago itch like mad. I keep staring out the window into the massive Blue Spruce wondering what the boys are doing up on top of the mountain and what is in store for their day ahead.

What I am avoiding is the fact that class last night was uncomfortable. I can’t see how these corporate, and I know necessary ideas and models, will fit into my little art world. Or rather, how I can fit into them. I feel like I am reaching far beyond my reality to try and make this work. The list of all there is to be done is getting longer. There are licenses to obtain, accounts to set up, web content to pull together, files to figure out, social media to learn, market collateral to come up with, proposal templates to make sense of and then use, and still so much more to think about, research and learn.

I miss hours on end of painting.

I often hear and have conversations with others about “finding the balance.” I can’t seem to find that place. A good friend of mine uses the word harmony instead.  I like that image. That you strive to have all the pieces of your life come together like a beautiful orchestra. Giving each instrument it’s solo and spotlight, but ultimately creating a piece that is cohesive and fills your soul. I feel like I am playing a beautiful bass, an okay clarinet, a too loud trumpet, a big, fun drum, a sweet flute and a very squeaky and out of tune violin all while trying to hold the conductor’s wand… baton?….what are those things called? and be an attentive listener in the audience. Anyone else feel this way?

I love the feeling of mountain pose in yoga. Finding strong grounding in my feet with my toes splayed and firm, balanced front to back as well as side to side. Lifting my bones with my muscles up out of the earth and reaching with my huge wing span up towards the sky. I want to feel this way in this whole manner of the business of art. Firmly grounded but reaching. Reaching with grace.

Last night in class, I so very ungracefully fell off my mat and wanted to curl up into child’s pose and fall asleep. I felt like I was in eagle’s pose, all twisted up, trying to balance on one foot and just fell over on my face. I couldn’t begin to see the answers to the questions that were being asked. My classmates sat quietly writing, focused and in a flow. I just stared.. doodling on my worksheets and writing profanity that I really wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.  I wanted nothing more than to go home. The instructor and my friend noticed and I gave her a pleading look that I was totally stuck. She was helpful and calming and I stayed the duration but still feeling like a poser. A Ted talk was shown about the power of body language. I had seen it before. Can you use strong body language called power poses to change your mind set and get different results? Can you fake it until you make it? or rather fake it until you become it? hmmmmmm?????

Exhausted, I drove home under a beautiful full moon, climbed into bed where Chachi was curled up in Chris’s arms and snuggled in. Ahh….. rest.

Chachi is now here. He sits on my lap slowly waking up. I can find some grounding in this. Today will be about finding footing again and growing some roots before I stretch again. And that is enough.

Do you remember that feeling when you were little and when riding your bike so fast, your wheels felt like they might come right off? As they wobbled and wove across the road, I would get a pit in my stomach knowing that if I hit a rock or the brakes wrong, I was in for a big crash. But, at the same time the wind on my face and the blurring of the trees was just too tempting. Sometimes I would make it down the hill, managing to avoid ending upside down in a ditch. But there were times when my wobbly wheels would throw me right off. I have scars to prove it.

My life feels like it is going so fast right now that my wobbly wheels are about to throw me over the handle bars. The pit in my stomach is constant and I can’t figure out how to put the brakes on in way that will slow me down without crashing. I am hitting bumps left and right in the forms of letting friends down, being spread so thin that I am not really present with anyone (including myself), crossing boundaries with people I shouldn’t.. pushing, pushing, pushing.
I am going so fast I can’t even pedal anymore, but yet I still try and the pedals do that wonky thing that say, “Don’t even try! We can’t go any faster!” I have friends saying, “Please stop! Not appropriate!” with a look of desperation and anger in their eyes.

I am not thinking.

I am just letting it fly.

I am feeling like a reckless adolescent spinning out of control and putting scars on my heart instead.

I know a big crash is coming at the bottom of the hill. Hopefully, I won’t do too much damage and hurt anyone else.

I have to find a way to stop.

I need to remember that I no longer fit on that banana seat bike. I now own a big yellow cruiser with sunflowers all over it. It has a big wide seat, no gears and is comfortable. It won’t let me go too fast. I think I need to take it out for a long spin… to remember where I am going and gently wave as I pass people by. I need to feel the big sturdy wheels and listen to the whirrrrr as they pass over the pavement. Listen to the whirrr of good friends who are telling me to slow down, pay attention and be better. For them, I am ever grateful.

My bike… time for a cruise!

In a few weeks, my family is traveling to Virginia. Chris has a conference and the boys are going to visit grandparents, cousins and aunts and uncles. I am staying here this time. It will be the first time in 12 1/2 years that I will spend a night… actually 7 of them in my house alone. I am putting a big red X through the week and going into hibernation. I am putting myself in time out. I am not going to commit to a thing, unplug from the world and let each day unfold. I feel anxious about it, but also know I need this more than ever.