The Vacuum

It's an intimidating feeling when one sits down to write something, and nothing, nothing comes to mind.

I committed to writing more on my blog, and doggone it, I intend to follow through.

But nothing comes to mind.

I could write about having seen in the newspaper yesterday that I am supposed to speak at a Memorial Day event today, but had not been notified. I called our efficient and able City Clerk and she, too, had not heard anything about it. She dutifully went in to the office, on a Sunday, on a holiday weekend, and emailed me a proclamation to read today. Day saved. Thank you, MH.

I don't know who failed to contact us, but if I were not to show up for the event, the audience would think it was I who had dropped the ball. We can't have that.

I could write that we're having friends over tonight for a cookout. Just a married couple, laid back, easy.

I could write that LO wants so badly to work this summer. She has looked into the few contacts she has, but has been told over and over that they are trying to hire adults this year, as they really need work.

I wrote the exec direc of our children's theater, meaning well, and offered her services as an intern to the summer drama camps for children. She could use the experience next year on her resume.

Now she's ticked off that I have potentially gotten her a non-paying job and she won't be able to secure a paid one. I should have asked her first.

But all these things are so mundane, you wouldn't want to read them. I'll try to do better next entry.

Deep Thoughts on... Poison Ivy

I must say I was so relieved last night when my DH said, "I don't know how on earth you get poison ivy every year. We just do not have any to be seen in our yard."

So many people ask me accusingly, "Don't you know what it looks like? You just need to stay away from it!"

It makes me feel a little like an idiot.

DH mowed Wednesday and I worked the periphery, pulling the tall blades of grass from between my impatiens, and thinning the mint that tries to dominate my flower bed.

I can see the headlines now : Mint: The New Kudzu.

But that's off-topic.

So I did those two things, and now I have red patches with high yellow-filled blisters on my arms, face, and behind an ear. Another red patch has sprouted in the little hollow at my throat.

I sponged makeup on the portion of my face last night, so I could greet at the Youth Theater. When I got home, it was really hot and angry. Obviously did not like makeup.

DH was annoyed that I had not headed straightaway for a shot. Now the dr. office is closed and I'm sprouting more postules by the hour.

I called the doctor's office and had the service page the doctor on call. I explained my predicament, and told him I can waste money on all the bottles at the drug store, but the only thing that relieves poison ivy for me is a shot. Because their office is closed, he offered to call in a prescription of Prednizone for me.

Then I approached the vanity issue.

"Um, doctor, in addition to the pain and discomfort, I, uh, wonder about the appearance. You see, I serve on City Council. I have to be on TV Tuesday, and don't want to look like, uh, like a Freak of Nature. Are there any old-time poultices I can use that might work?"

He laughed. and laughed. and laughed.

I got a little defensive. "You'd be sensitive about it, too, if it were you!"

"Yes, I would," he acknowledged. "In my opinion, none of those things work. I recommend Calamine and makeup, ma'am."

At least he called in the meds.

Blog.

To the family and friends who follow my blog: I blogged today and encourage you to nag me to continue.

In 2005, I posted 89 times.
In 2006, 80.
In 2007, 54 times.
In 2008, I made a NY resolution and posted 229 times.
In 2009, 78.

This year, I have posted 3 times.

Yikes.

I tell myself I'm too busy to write or draw.

But I'm not too busy. In addition to working, I choose to do other things that waste my time. Websudoku. Organizing cabinets that are already organized. Going to coffee. Facebook.

But life is short. The blog is my way of chronicling what we're doing, and trying to communicate in a pretty non-communicative family. Other than my mother-in-law, pretty much no one else really stays in touch. So I blog.

So, (sigh) as of today, I'm back in the saddle again. I encourage you to Hold Me Accountable. I. will. blog.

Every Day Matters

I've not blogged in forever, mostly because I delude myself that I'm too busy.

I'm not too busy. I choose to do other things that waste my time.

I'm finally prompted to post because of an artist I admire, Danny Gregory. His writing and drawing really, really make me think. You know how sometimes you just "click" with someone? The things they say, the things they notice -- they are the same things you notice, and you feel that you relate? ...even though maybe you've never met? That's how I am with this guy I never met. Not in a creepy-stalky way, but in a platonic, from-far-away, sort of way.

Danny started drawing as an adult in 2002 when his wife fell from the platform at the subway station. The train ran over her and severed her spine. She survived, and was a paraplegic. Through the experience, they realized every day matters. Danny struggled with the loss of his wife's well-being, and drew to cope. As his talent amazingly developed, he began to write books encouraging others to just draw. He said the more you draw, the better you get, regardless of whether you think you have talent or not.

This idea truly appeals to me, and I became a follower of his books and website.

So his wife passed away a few months ago, and he has faithfully posted about what it's been like for him and his son. Although Danny considers himself an artist, I have to admit his writing is top-notch. And, (although I know it's totally politically-incorrect to say this) for a guy, he is amazingly articulate with his feelings.

It hurts to read what he is going through. I avoid visiting his site. Then, after days and days, or weeks and weeks of not reading it, I must.

Today I asked myself why it's so hard.

First it's probably hard because his site has always been such a happy place for me. "You (yes, you!) can draw! All you have to do is try!" Now, it's not so happy.

Am I that shallow? I had to ask myself. Can I not roll along with this guy who is competely and legitimately hurting?

Then I realized why I can't bear his pain.

It's my pain. His losing his wife brought home the reality that one day I will lose J or he will lose me. It. will. happen. And I just can't bear to think about it.

I'll continue to procrastinate on visiting his site, and inevitably visit it, and voraciously read it. Just because I have to. In the meantime, I. must. create. Every Day Matters.