I finally started movement on finding a therapist/coach, and was pointed at someone who coaches mid-life women and artists. I have some hope that some of the issues I think I am having, like not currently making art and feeling unconnected to everytihing might be addressed, even if they are not necessarily resolved. She requested I take the Enneagram test, which I generally feel is moderately useless, and I was so aggravated by it that I compiled a list of commentary on the questions as I answered them. Which is fundamentally hilarious because really - this is how I spend my time taking a pointless test? Talking back to it. Ok.
I have started changing things in the house so that it fits better. Moving other people's stuff out of the common areas and into their rooms to deal with, and shifting my artwork beongings back up to my room and maybe eventually moving Al's robot parts and etc, down to the eating room. We have an eating room with computers, a couch room with books, a cooking room, three sleeping rooms and one work room for me. They don't even have normal names. well, except the bathroom, and the kitchen. But the kitchen is also the wet studio for paint and etc, because I can't paint or dye fabric without water and I can't take it upstairs because I spill it (ask me how I know).
The next step is getting more exercise. steadily. like daily. So I guess tomorrow. because today is pretty much over.
still distressed about the election,
also I failed the first test of a trimp america. I did not even think that it would start at the Northampton Stop&Shop in the 12 items or less line, but there was a woman behind me berating a woman behind her about having too many things in her cart, and I did nothing. Next time, i stand up. I was trying to figure out who to complain to, and what exactly i could say after I failed to take on the woman herself, and I failed across the board. So next time, think less, and stand up sooner. I was wearing my theater tech sweatshirt, that has three safety pins on it because backstage, except now thy make a political statement as well, and I totally forgot about that part.
delivered Alice yesterday - ten whole miles away and a whole new chapter.
Aerin took Eileen, and her stuff, and made it to their room before we did
Alice is on the same side of Dickinson, down a floor, in the other wing - it was a tiny bit surreal delivering her and trying to do it the way they'd had us do it for Aerin and having it not work. But that was ok too, in the long run. I didn't stash tiny dinosaurs in Alice's boxes because she had pre-stashed tiny stuffies and friends - travelling Puppy, and the Purple Panda cathy made for her, and the ladybug and she also had three huge stuffies - the Panda, the Mammoth and Emma's squishy white hover bear. Alice shows so little of what is in her head. Aerin doesn't either, but they do it in different ways. Alice seemed fine, Eileen seemed fine - both a little nervous, both cheerful, both getting stuff out and away and making a cement block room into a space they can do the things that will support life.
Neither one had things on the wall yet. Eileen had a handful of small Chinese friends and good luck charms she was finding places for. Alice is neatly packed into boxes inside boxes inside further boxes, so she had four bins, the giant Target bag of stuffies and her wizard lamp and backpack (new, and thus unrecognizable).
I was tired and migraining and Al was nervous and telling me to do things that were either obvious or incorrect, and when we left and had food it got better and when we went home and I had drugs it got better still. I feel off balance, and also like I am going to be off balance until people settle in their next places. It is an article of faith for me that everything happens at once. Aerin is looking at apartments in Boston, and trying to decide how to decide. Sally is just --going. It feels like I have been preparing to lift a heavy load and she has removed all the substance from it, and I am flailing, trying to get my balance and decide how much I am needed at all, and how to respond to her express wish that I, basically, not be involved. Except to help pack. Or do computer stuff. Or maybe to visit. But not to do anything, really. Except help, somehow, in some unspecified way.
Aerin pointed out that our household runs a lot of what people say, and what they say they want. So I have been practicing for years, and they ahve been trained from early on, to talk about what you want and need and want to have happen. Sally hasn't, and probably has had some training in NOT saying what she wants, so I/we/you have to read her emotions rahter than her words. Aerin seems to be better at that than i am, and was trying t help me see how to hear what she is feeling rather than what she is saying. There is very little I can do to retrain her, although she is better at either calling or reverting to plan A if she can't contact anyone, but she is still such a freaking mad loose cannon, and she tries so ahrd to make everything BETTER when I just want to plow ahead and make it fucking be OVER,
I dunno. I took the logbooks, with her blessing, and will look over them with JT at the next lunch maybe. I should find some charts of Marblehead, the Cape and Maine. I'll ask Mat about those, it would take a couple or four, to cover the area in question. And then he/we could look over the log books and see what kinds of stories are in them, and what thigns we did. Where did we go.
I took some pictures of my mother and father getting married, impossibly long ago, and of me being tiny, and of me with yards of braided string around myself in the west Indies in 3rd grade. I can post them, for some throw back thursday kind of thing, because they are quite lovely and are emblematic of other times.
She also let me take my lunch box, the VW bus lunch box, that I remember with SUCH affection. She kind of wanted to keep it, for no reason I could think of unless she wanted to sell them or something, but she decided I could have one after all. It is not the one withth ematching thermos, which is fine - I will probably put something else in it instead, like buttons or thread or beads or something important.
ok this is hilarious to me
Al just finished Ancillary Justice, and he is being schooled in Gender 101 by Aerin, Alice and Miriam around the protagonist's use of her over he for default gender assignation -
He has apparently skipped a decade or two around gender vs sex and why sex Does Not Matter to the protagonist, and what DOES matter to the protagonist is Citizenship, and ... he is just sputtering, and trying to retrench, and I am having inadequate amounts of sympathy for him.
I think of him as one of the good ones, and he is still SOBLOODYCLUELESS about some stuff. Mostly gender stuff. Mostly discounting women. still pisses me off SOHARD SO FUCKING HARD
In ohter news, Monhegan Island has not descended into the sea just yet, and is still mad picturesque. I am better at painting than last year and am trying to paint more, more MORE, and it is easier. Insane Dr Hart is on the island at the same time. I am wavering between thinking up useful insults or put-downs and practicing "I don't think you should speak to me" My brother is large and remains the same and I adore him. His wife is so smart and so amazing, and is running the island and Will Not Leave, which Mat is finding amusing because for the longest time HE didn't want to leave, and now he is thinking he might like to be somewhere else.
MOAR PAINT. Gotta go.
Welp. We certainly did our part to spin the economy around yesterday.
First thing in the morning (for Al - I'd been up hours!) we went and bought a used car. Honda Civic, 2013 or 14 I forget. While he was talking to the owner (a hilarious woman as well as a shrewd lady) I found the ones that were less than 3 years old, less than 30K miles and less than Al's limit on dollars. We bought the first one we test drove, and honestly we test drove only as far as the local McD's before we knew we'd take it. Compared to the multi-month anxiety about doing it right that we'd had on previous cars, this was a blessed relief. Al got a loaner, and drove away, I took my dad out for lunch and field trip (along Reservation Road into Mt Tom - he was delighted, but really really wanted to find his own house).
Later Aerin, Alice and I went out to Target for Alice's college list. It was modest, but still filled one of their giant red carts. We made up the little pieces we hadn't been able to find along the way, and went out for supper.
I am amused, in retrospect, that we spent more time stumbling around Target than we did test driving cars.
Aerin has an interview tomorrow at Brigham in Boston to talk to a woman with a pile of data who is looking for one adult PhD or two babies to teach. Aerin is interviewing to be a baby. I am stunned with pride at her heading off to Boston to talk to real data people, but she is resolutely not thinking abou tit because the alst time she got excited over a job interview they didn't take her (they should have too) so I am trying not to be too enthusiastic, or anything that might throw her off her game. Whatever her mental process is, she needs me to leave her alone for it.
I was supposed to cross paths with my mother in Worcester, and we waved each other off. She is packing for a move to Maine, well up the coast and overlooking Penobscot Bay. I can't help but feel like she's running farther from me, after begging me to come and help and then not letting me help... parenting is complex. Childing is complex. life can be complex, I would like to make it less so.
So endeth the lesson.
The children's summer theater wrapped up Sunday. I think Aerin is correct, that I have found the perfect theater format for myself; it is short, funny, egalitarian, anti-sexist and working on some other good attributes. The first two shows each ran across two weekends, the first in Easthampton and then in Turners Fall the following weekend. That meant, for the second weekend, loading stuff into a truck in Easthampton, loading into the theater, putting on a Friday night show, coming back for Saturday 10:30am and 1:00pm shows and then loading out of the theater and back down to Easthampton and back into temporary storage there. It made for some very very tiring days, plus it seems to be hotter than ever, and any movement causes sweating and misery, so there was that on top of tired... It was still fun though, and I would do it again next summer.
For the last show, Peter Pan, we couldn't find a Capt. Hook - they kept breaking or getting better jobs or leaving the country. I was angling hard for the part, without any actual hope of getting it, until the director finally said he'd take it. And I could be Smee. I haven't been on a stage since I was sixteen which was, no lie, 40 years ago. So I was both delighted and horrified at the offer but I did take him up on it.
It was fun, and harder than I expected, and hilarious. once I completely ditched any dignity I might have had, and just kept the part of me that most wanted to be a pirate, it got easier. I was onstage with Hook mostly, as a mixture of stooge and nursemaid, and it was really really fun. I have photos somewhere, mostly on FB but I'll see if I can fetch them here.
I was assigned to choose the tiny child who was to play Tinkerbell from the audience for each show. I tried to find someone who wanted to do it, and found a bunh of great kids. One show I chose a pair of sisters who took the first and second act rather than being onstage at the same time, there was a tiny child who kept her fingers in her ears even under her headphones because everything was too loud, but still did a great job, and one tiny child who was too tiny and when Peter shouted at her she melted down. But her mother carried her onstage for the second act when she needed to drink Peter's poisoned medicine and be ill and be fixed again, and she came up for her bows as well.( photos under the cut?Collapse )
life is about to get full
it has already been full
tomorrow we start rehearsals for Peter Pan. When I say We I really mean WE this time - I have a part, a speaking part, and I have not done anything like this since I decided in high school my safe and happy place was in the scene shop or working with the lights. So In fact I was probably 16, so a solid 40 years. I was angling for Capt. Hook, but the director wants to do that, or wants me to pay attention to the props/tech issues I have been paying attention to, or both, but when I said I'd play Smee, he agreed. I was kind of shocked when I reread the script, because I have actual lines, and plot points. I thought mostly I would be saying "yes, boss" and offering to fight people.
Peter Pan rehearsals are non-stop this week and next, The Great Race of the Tortoise and the Hare (that ends in a near riot of shrieking children and a photo finish) travels and has the final three performances in Turners Falls in a fabulous old theater that we have inadequate audience for, and then strikes, returns to Williston and we start tech on Peter Pan. It is a whirl wind. I am highly amused.
I took my most recent work to Brattleboro for some coaching or critiquing or encouragement or something from one of my all-time favorite teachers. She said kind and useful things, but said I needed a coach and connector - someone to help me get my foot into the fine arts world from a more crafty starting point. So I have a name for a coach who works with artists. I also, on Lydia's say-so, found the fanciest gallery in Brattleboro and introduced myself and offered to show her one piece of work even though you should never do that. It was kind of funny. I did everything (EVERYTHING) wrong, from showing up, with my work in hand, to having no card (I cannot BELIEVE I was that uncoordinated) and she kept saying yes, we don't usually do this but yes, and let me see that one too... So I have been invited to submit my info via email which means I have to get more formal photos of the work first, and then shuffle together the info and formats they want and get it out. I have to admit I am holding the memory of that interaction very very close, and pulling it out when I get distressed about other things.
Oh and also she asked what i called what I do. I said I called it stitched textile work, but my daughter called it mutant quilts, and she Cracked Up and said that was fabulous and I should go with that...
I made everyone come see Ghostbusters with me yesterday. Alice and her friend M cackled though the whole thing, as did I. Aerin was entertained, and had some pointed things to say about graphing their data. Al was ... almost dismissive? And I don't actually care much. Because I have been to a movie that was pandering to meeeee, and it was glorious, and also I have a MAD crsh on Kate McKinnon, along with pretty much everyone else as far as I can tell, and I shall have to take up dancing with propane torches. And the combined beauty and stupidity of their secretary was amazing, and gratifying. And theMRA spouting Red Pill redditor, which was hilarious. And there was no romance. And the leads were all older than 30, and I think three of them were older than 40. I think I am just not going to argue with Al over this. It absolutely isn't worth it.
And then tonight I ahd supper with Red Kate because itwas a Tuesday night hike and I wasn't hiking and I hadn't seen her in aaaages so we pizza for supper and she made me an entire quart of lemonade which I drank all of (!?!) and we talked about guys living as women for a month, and I said longer because they sould have to menstruate more than once,just to understand the relentlessness of it,and we cackled, and decided maybe six months. Kate needs a loom wth actual metal gears on it, because she is having tension issues on her current loom. It has to be frustrating to be working against your tools.
I ahve hacked my bed and put a little piece of support in the middle of my back, just above my hips that seems to be helping me sleep straighter and I can go longer before I wake up sore. Sleeping is gorgeous.
Props are almost done for the next piece of childrens' theater, the Great Race of the Tortoise and the Hare. I've been Instagramming them, because it cross-posts to fb, and we need publicity. I'l spend some time tomorrow getting life organized backstage and figuring out how to get set up and taken down for each rehearsal until Friday. And also streamlining the process of shifting the production from one theater to another for the second weekend. The load-in is fast enough except for flying the screen. And I am collecting cables so we have three different ways to connect the projector to whatever laptop we have on hand, because that was a very very very bad hour when the projector would not connect to the notebook it had been talking to for the last week. It took a new cable to make that work, and that is just wrong.
I am too hot and tired and my hips hurt when I wake up and they hurt enough to wake me up around 4am, but once I sit up and stand up and start to walk around they get better, so it is not all misery, just some misery. Also hot. Did I say hot? I am fatter than usual, and it makes me hotter and stupider than usual, and I sweat when I walk and then I drip and it gets in my eyes and stings and fuck. My ankle is better though. Four weeks yesterday and I am stomping to town and back on the regular, and sweating like crazy cakes, and also (ahem) catching Pokemons which... is not what I expected.
I am also sulking, artistically speaking. I have been turned down for six or seven things in a row, and stuff I made for a particular venue in the fall didn't sell there, so it feels very dismissive. And because Aerin is home and sort of asleep in the room next to my studio with a non-functioning door, I have been hesitating to work, so the whole place is silted in and I can't get to anything, and I hate everything in it. To my deep aggravation I have even been turned down for two local things that I should have been a slam dunk for. So there's that. Also it is hot in my room.
What I have been doing is working with the local children's theater (for, not with) which is a good time, if a little wearing. I seem to be the tech consultant, and I find and make all the props. We are doing three shows, two of which have to go into a truck and travel, so a huge part of my work has been to retrofit an ancient three flat system to a more readily portable three flat system by adding hinged jacks to the edges, and then devising some way to hold the three flats together and then fixing and mending and improving two doors and two flaps on a window. There are a lot more magnets, and some latches that are making things more stable.
So yeah, um, Pokemon. I never played before. If you have opinions, let me know. I am still on level 4, so I haven't had to choose a color? side? thing yet. Amanda says Blue, like all self-respecting humans and since I have no other input that'll probably work for me. But I kind of like walking around and "finding" things, and after losing a solid half dozen balls and at least one Pokemon I figured out how to get them. I went for a walk around the block last night, and there were a lot of stars, but no Pokemons. I mean, I have a bunch now, and I feel kind of rich.
Last year when I went to Monhegan I took paint, and canvas, and spent the entire time trying to get what I saw onto the canvas in some way. I have more paint now, but less motivation, and I am thining I might take a crochet hook and some yarn and a book and see if I can figure out how to make some of those adorable tiny amigurumi guys that are EVERYWHERE. Also please excuse capslock, I ahve been too long on fb where there is no other form of emphasis.
I was frankly dubious about going to the cookout/memorial for a family friend, but I rememberd him fondly from my youth and with the loan of an automatic shift car (Aerin took the adorable blue thing to see her young man) I ventured into the wilds of (further) western Massachusetts. (Ankle: still broken, working better, still can't shift)
I am so glad I did. Where Uncle Tom's party was a delicate dance of sympathy and cousins and navigating my mother's conflicting senses of propriety and humor, this one was about someone more distant, making it easier and ... softer somehow. To my delight there were two key people from my youth, like really - I was six - that meant the world to me.
Did you love one or two of your parent's friends? I was so lucky, that my parents were convivial, and well located, and in a big enough house that we had what seemed like a steady flow of people though the house. I think also that I loved easily and thoroughly when I was a child, and some of that has persisted. Two men old enough to be my father, and I was SO pleased to see them. I think it must be hard to look at friend's children and see them as adults, as parents themselved - it takes a special kind of imagination and memory to find the child who worshipped you in the ernest adult standing in front of you. Although I guess the flip side of that is watching anyone age.
I was pleased tht I managed to stand up and tell a story about the friend in question. It was a nice story. My mother was sitting next to me shaking her head muttering that was not the person she remembered. He was a trickster, a coyote, always on the edge of some giant joke that you might be the butt of, or might just as easily be the hero in. It could be confusing. Most of the stories failed to mention that. I think we want to speak well of the dead, for all kinds of reasons.
in other related but unexpected news, I managed to sit next to the most amazing people, and had nice and intelligent conversations for all the rest of the afternoon. That was delightful, and I have an invitation to come and see the farm and the horses and the dogs... which I am looking forward to. She said she invited me becase she liked my smile, and liked the way I was pleased to see my mother, and my mother is a sweetie. Which she is. I even had a seet short visit with my mum, before she had to head back to her visitors. Tomorrow she has another memorial, which I wish I could get to.
I am, in retrospect, astoundingly lucky in my parent's friends.