Imagine...

Most of us imagine a world in which we have everything we ever dreamed of.  We imagine being wealthy when we are far from it.  We imagine being a model when we are asymmetrical and thick, we imagine being loved by all when we are prickly pear difficult.  We imagine what we don't actually have.
But what if we imagined something else.
What if we imagined ourselves a hundred years ago---and not in some fairytale castle or living a romance novel life with servants and mansions---ourselves in our great-grandparents lives.

Imagine a world in which those terracotta flower pots that are currently considered plain and cheap and easily disposable were the tool that allowed your family to start a vegetable garden inside so that you produced more produce than all the other farms.

Imagine a world where blackberry brambles on the fence are a treat not an unsightly eyesore that is difficult to remove--no one wants to cut and carry that thorny stuff.

Imagine a world where instead of mowing the grass, the goats, sheep, chickens and milk cow enjoyed all that yard immensely.

Imagine a world where a trash truck never ran and nothing came in a paper wrapper or thick plastic container.  Where all your trash fit in a tiny heap in the backyard and was biodegradable.  Where, if you lived in town, rag pickers showed up after your worn out linens and clothes.  Where people used their linens and clothes so long that they DID wear out.

Imagine a world where a pair of shoes was nice and two pairs was just luxury--never mind that they were both over 3 years old.

Imagine a world where blankets were made of scraps of material and stuffed with whatever to bulk them up, then used---actually used for warmth in the winter and not just folded on the end of the guest room bed or hung on a wall.

Imagine making sauerkraut, making soap, making clothes, drying meat, drying fruit, canning vegetables, not to be crafty but to have cabbage and meat and fruit and veggies in the winter and to have soap and clothes--at all.

Imagine having a garden and a milk goat and chickens, not to be rural, but to eat and to sell to those near you that wove material and tanned leather and hunted but didn't have a garden or milk or eggs.

Imagine hand-pumping water out of your well and bringing it to the stove that you have stoked up with pieces of wood that were gathered and split and seasoned and heating it in a big metal bucket or soup pan and filling the galvanized tub that is less than 3 foot across and maybe 20 inches high so you can scrub the dirt off your body--and don't be shocked, but more than a few families with limited water would limit that to 1 tub a week for the family.

So, can you imagine?

Can you imagine those ancestors of ours imagining a world where water came hot from a pipe into a tub bigger than their body and where they could soak daily if they wanted?

Did they imagine going places at 60 miles an hour?
Did they imagine buying shoes enough to fill a shoe rack--their shoe rack, not everyone in the family.
Did they imagine soap that was never so harsh it made your skin burn?
Did they imagine getting new clothes when they had 2 outfits and neither was worn out?
Did they imagine anyone ever needing a walk-in closet?
Did they imagine not needing to know how to hunt or cook or sew or milk or preserve food?

Or did they also, just imagine being wealthy, where wealthy meant having servants to do all that cooking and preserving and gardening and repairing and water-hauling and soap making.

Maybe we all just need better imaginations.
Maybe we always have.

Solitude

So, I've been spending a lot of time alone.  I'm talking to my cats and the characters in books.  I'm painting for hours and then working on projects and then reading or binging showing that are not to boring to watch.  

It's been cold, but not terribly cold, so I don't work outside but I potentially could.
Family is busy.
Grandkids are kids.
I'm not lonely, at least not lonelier than I have been the last 30 years of my life.
I wanted to have long talks, but instead had long listens with people that had no interest in things I found interesting.
Eventually, as some would take
 advantage of the listening, by
rudely saying things like, "why
would I want to talk about that"
 or "you have always been so odd" and
 then going on with their stories
 about work or their love life or
their marriage or the shoes they
 bought or their own successes

and reputation.
I felt invisible.

So I quit being available as the
great listener.

And some would want to take me to lunch or buy me a small gift right before asking for a favor, like boarding their pet or watching their child while they went on a trip.  Obviously, I have no need for time as I have no life.

So I quit being so available for that, also.

But sometimes, I imagine people that talk about philosophy or go to history classes instead of the movies.  I imagine people that talk about "what if's" instead of fashion and shopping.

So, I'll head up to paint in a moment.  Insomnia has me falling asleep late so waking late, then a late start to paint and when that well has run dry for the day, I'll cook some nice comfort food and read awhile or binge some tv.  Maybe I'll hook up the BluRay again and watch some old movies while I draw.

I don't know if I will ever paint anything "great" but it is always serious and mind-consuming.

Happy Sunday!

When down, be thankful.

Winter is not my favorite season, and some are less favored than others.  So I remembered about the gratitude, but be forewarned, I'm in a global mindset these days as the Magnetic North Pole is moving and the idea of what is good and right and acceptable has also been moving this past 2 years, so I'm a little dark at times.

I'm grateful that I have never spent a week in an unheated (or unairconditioned) menstruation hut in the Himalayas.

I'm grateful that I never caught the eye of Ted Bundy.

I'm grateful that my parents didn't abort me for not having a Y chromosome.

I'm grateful that I can own property without a male relative handling all my business.

I'm grateful that I was not stoned for being unclean after being raped.

I'm grateful I was not sterilized against my will for some trait that I had too little or too much of.

I'm grateful that I have not developed any medication-dependent chronic illnesses.

I'm grateful that I am not chemically dependent.

I'm grateful that I was never arrested for a bounced check, then sentenced to time because I had no money to make that right.

I'm grateful that none of my children were shot for being mouthy when stopped by the police.

I'm grateful none of my children or grandchildren had a worst-case scenario response to their vaccinations.

I'm grateful for seasons.

I'm grateful for vegetables that will grow where I plant them.

I'm grateful for Social Security that allowed me to stop a job that was rapidly wearing me down.

I'm thankful for art supplies.

I'm thankful for red wine and chocolate being good for us. (even if only in moderation)

I'm thankful for birds, flying birds, singing birds, bright and beautiful birds.

I'm thankful that I didn't fall for that crap about getting rid of everything you haven't used in 6 months---just digging around in the plastic containers has occupied my mind, snagged great memories, and supplied me with amazing craft materials.

I'm thankful for the internet--even facebook, though I do tend to unfollow people for my own sanity.

I'm thankful for E-readers so I'm not always trying to find places to pass on books when storage goes away.

I'm thankful for public libraries.

I'm thankful for public radio.

I'm thankful for sleeping in piles of quilts.

I'm thankful for rocking chairs.

I'm thankful for rocks, don't ask, but I'm apparently part crow so the shinier the better.

I'm thankful for flowers and bees and butterflies and hummingbirds.

I'm thankful for all the other people that have to make beautiful things for the good of their own souls and share their creations and methods with others so freely.  It's good to no that the drive to create is so universal.

I'm thankful for family AND that they all have their own homes.

I'm thankful I can breathe the air and drink the water and walk in the sunlight without immediate damage to my body.

BUT, I've had eleven calls from telemarketers, spam callers and just plain scammers in the 2 hours I've been on computer, from "driving specialists", whatever that is, to dire warnings that my auto warranty is going to expire (it did 4 years ago) to congratulations for my free trip that I only have to pay the taxes on to worst of all, I nightmarish threat about my Social Security Fraud in which I need to call them back with proper identifying information to fix this problem.

The small towns are now call centers, or they have sold a group of numbers to someone in a different country, or they are computer monsters that have stolen numbers that resemble familiar callers and there only goal is to get a few people to fall for their crap.

I'm very grateful I have no problem dealing with them as nicely as they are trying to deal with me.  Scamming people is no better than dealing drugs or fencing stolen goods.  Get a conscience.

small goals

I have lists of goals planted all over my house.
The big goal is to keep having goals.
So far, except for days I spend babysitting more than 8 hours, I've been able to keep up with the painting daily.  And painting is still fully occupying my mind while I do it---call it mindful painting, or more likely just painting, as I suspect that most people paint with full engagement.  Why else waste your time painting if you aren't even there.

I have also made tiny steps toward other goals, like adding listings to Etsy.
I hope to eventually have everything on etsy or ebay, and when done, sell the house and move to the top of a mountain or the middle of a desert--but at the edge of a place with water--not liking the idea of dying of thirst.

The selling of everything is a pretty lofty goal--especially considering that I have just now reached 20 listings in and haven't yet made it through the finished paintings and drawings.  After that is jewelry--mostly my creations, stones--mostly my creations, old crap that is the accumulation of everyone that is getting up there and hasn't moved in a good long while, last but not least, the house I've lived in for over a third of my life.

I'm thinking the desert will win.
I'm thinking the babies will be adults by the time I'm ready to move--so not getting out of any babysitting.
I'm thinking sometimes a goal, any goal, is better than nothing.

Todays goals are:
     do a little cleaning
     eat 3 meals
     paint a couple of hours
     do the dishes
     read a bit
     watch some tv
     remove the cover from the bottom of the toy box and cut out the fabric to recover it.
     visit with granddaughter for a couple of hours
     play a little piano
     put something on etsy
     get 7-8 hours sleep

We will see how far we get with that list.  Some days move faster than others.

The best thing about goals is marking them off when completed, so never neglect putting down those goals you know you will meet--like eating, sleeping, and watching tv.

Very motivating stuff.

Sundays are the best.

It's Sunday morning, and expected to warm enough for some outside time later.  The coffee is hot and aromatic, the grapefruit juicy and well salted.   I've read the news, made a few plans; loose plans, tentative plans, the kind that can be changed with a breathe and a wink since they don't involve other people that could be put off or inconvenienced or aggravated by sudden plan changes.

So, I'm going to do a little floor work--broom and vacuum time, then some tree trimming with a wonderful battery operated reciprocal saw---so much easier than squeezing giant pruners or starting a gas chainsaw, then make a vision board.

A vision board is part wish list and part annual goals with a hefty dose of collage or for the purists--montage--unless I decide to get 3-D, then collage is actually accurate.

I could use more vision in my life and clearer goals---and can't resist a project.

I expect to spend a certain amount of the time futzing around hunting for stuff and getting properly attired for whichever part of this is coming next.

I also expect to have enough time to soak in a tub full of both bubbles AND dead sea salt AND Epsom salt AND essential oils.  I like both music AND a good book for these soaks, as well as WINE.

All that brings new meaning to the "weekly bath", though I still see way too many people to limit my ablutions to weekly.  That would be rude and rather gross.

If there is still time left afterward, I'll pull the cover off the toy box or cut the memory foam for the window seat and work on covering it, or reverse that and have 2 finished projects  instead of just one.

But, most important of all, any of those can change with the snap of the fingers and become a whole new set of plans in a whole new direction!

Except the floor.

That is an imperative today.

The dust bunnies are looking more like dust elephants.