Full Moon Christmas Wishes

I’ve been working since the end of September; almost three full months.  Happily, I seem to have found my groove and don’t feel quite as exhausted.   Just in time for the holidays, too.  I had to consciously strip away some of my extracurricular activities to do so, however, so things like Art Guild events, holiday bazaars, and my actual art have been put on the back burner.  I had a table booked at Pacifica’s ELF Market that I ended up forfeiting, too.   I needed and still need to focus on my family, the house, and the holidays.  That’s ALL I want to focus on now.

When the muse speaks again, I’ll hear her. 

I’m so looking forward to this Christmas.  Our lovely little tree is up, and wrapped packages are already appearing beneath it.  Elizabeth will be thrilled with her Christmas booty!  I struggled with some left over anxiety from last year, but having shaken it, I feel more in the Christmas spirit in a sort of stronger, more confident way.  It’s kind of nice.

If I had to put one word to 2013 it would be “bummer”, because 2013 sucked big-time.  I’ll be thrilled to see it behind us, as in, “don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”  I struggled most of the year with financial worries, Leslie had multiple bouts with cellulitis that were serious enough to land her in the emergency room more than once and then in the hospital for four days consecutively.  Immediately thereafter, she got the gout, which was a real hayride.

Leslie also had a rough run with her sister, after spending almost a year trying tentatively to reconcile.  Things went well for a while as old wounds were successfully addressed.  But, as soon as it looked like Leslie had more M&M’s than her sister (if you know what I mean), as soon as Leslie’s weight loss surgery was scheduled and I got a full-time job; Jealousy, the old green monster, reared its ugly head once again.  Something, and some people, never change.

Lots of good things happened in 2013, too.  Leslie had her weight loss surgery, and her health improves more every day.  I continue to loose weight, as well, ever respectful of the body’s requirements in this intense process.   Our experience was vastly different, which I find fascinating, even though we had the same procedure done by the same doctor.

Elizabeth found her passion in the high school’s Drama Department, the irony of which still blows my mind.  At her age, I was passionate about theater, too, but I did it to be noticed and she does it for love … of the craft, that is.  I didn’t have a fraction of the self-discipline she has.  She been watching her weight intensely, is down to a medium from a large, is working hard at voice lessons, and is working out regularly. What’s more, she’s kept her grades (all Honors and College Prep classes) at an “A” consistently.  She’s got her eye on the part of “Audrey” in the Drama Department’s production of “Little Shop of Horrors” coming up this Spring, and to that end, seems to fully grasp the phrase “God helps those who help themselves”.

So, I guess 2013 wasn’t all horrible.  Still, I won’t be sorry to let it go along with all the baggage that was in it.   I’m looking forward to 2014, and will focus on losing more weight, and learning everything I need to learn in the new job.  Maybe artistic inspiration will make an appearance, too.

On this full moon, I wish all of you a wonderful Christmas!

Tap Dance in Pacifica

I loved dancing school when I was a kid.  It was more than dancing school.  It was the foundation for whatever paltry confidence I dragged with me into adulthood, and it kept me out of trouble in more ways than I can count. 

I suffered through ballet class.  We all did. The bar work, no matter how it toned my body in a way I didn't appreciate at the time, was grueling. Connie had us bending and twist and holding, and it was difficult and painful.  The tap dance, however, was thoroughly enjoyable. Nobody taught like Connie did.  She was striking, demanding, and talented, and she endowed my feet with 15 years’ worth of tap routines that are forever emblazoned in my muscle memory (a term she used frequently).  Waltz clogs, time steps (single, double, and triple), shuffle off to Buffalo, Fred Astaire breaks, chugs, flaps, slaps and travelling steps are all accessible to me now.

Before my weight loss surgery a year ago, tap dance was one of the things that motivated and excited me.  Elizabeth’s sophomore year high school musical and dance recital fired me up even more.  Now, I’m pursing it.

I've listed two classes in Pacifica’s Park & Rec Fall Play book.  Beginners Adult Tap Dance is offered twice with a series of six classes in September/October, and six classes in October/November; two sessions back to back.  I’m holding the classes in the little dance studio at the Pacifica Community Center.  It’s got bars, mirrors and everything.

I am poised to launch an intensive local marketing campaign with flyers, postcards, ads in the paper and on Pacifica’s public access channel, and a website dedicated exclusively to tap dance.  I think I’ll call it “Pacifica Tap”.  I want to apply what I've learned about press at Sanchez Art Center to this.

There is a tiny possibility that I might be able to teach a class at Spindrift, too, but we’ll see if it works out.  It doesn't matter to me one way or the other.  What matters to me is my health and readiness.

I better get ready.

Don’tcha think?

Thoughts on a Road Trip

We went on a road trip Sunday.  Didn't have much money in our pockets, but we had a full tank of gas and an itch to be on the road.  Our destination was somewhere up north, as far as we could get before we’d turn around and return the same day.

It's 17.2 miles from our house to the Golden Gate Bridge, and then it's all freeways. The Golden Gate has always represented a portal to freedom to me. Once I get there, I know I’m going somewhere special, somewhere outside our usual stomping grounds. It was encased in fog, but there were plenty of walkers getting blown about like leaves.

On the freeway, there was a moment when we wished for a laser gun to use on the person in the red Ferrari ahead of us. He was in desperate need of absolute disintegration, talking on his cell phone, oblivious to the travelers around him, and driving a good 15 miles slower than the rest of traffic. Once Leslie's coffee kicked in, she started navigating traffic like the professional she was and still is. We left him in our smoke to pick up coastal Highway One at Mill Valley. 

Before too long, we noticed there were many buses, tour buses. Then, it occurred to us we were close to the Muir Woods.  By the time we drove the twisty-turny hairpin turns that took us up the mountain to the Muir Woods Overlook, Elizabeth was horribly and unexpectedly car sick. How could we forget about her car sickness? She moved to the front seat, but it didn’t help. 

The poor baby was green around the gills, so we hung out at the Overlook deciding what to do.

I hiked around for a bit and took a few pictures.  It was windy, much like the Golden Gate Bridge. Mist hung on everything.  People still stopped to take in the vistas, though, even those wearing a towel wrapped around a bathing suit.  It was very chilly.

Given that the next cross over to Highway 101 was a good 100 miles of north bound twisting and turning, we decided to head backward toward home and call it a day. Elizabeth was sick enough.  The drive back down the hill was slow and careful. The stress of high school is gone right now, so she let Leslie mother her through the car sickness, rubbing her back, and offering bi-carb so she’d feel better. I sat in the back seat listening to Leslie and Elizabeth converse, struck by the subtle differences in our parenting styles and how we communicate with her, but always in awe of Leslie’s tenderness and caring. I got a clear and increasingly rare glimpse of how much our daughter relies on and shares with us as she balances the tightrope that runs between childhood and adulthood.

Once we got past the Bridge and into the City, Elizabeth was herself again, talking and laughing. We discussed topics revolving around school, social interaction, and her friends. She’s not afraid of things like teen suicide, which she runs up against at least once a year, or discussing the kids we know who’ve tried to kill themselves. She has a logical way of rationalizing and understanding it without passing judgment. She is more reserved, for example, if she needs to tell us she got a C on a test, but if it’s about her feelings getting hurt or some sort of problem at school, with a little prodding, she’s up front with it. Leslie knows when something is amiss, for example, and will gently ask repeatedly if everything is okay until finally Elizabeth tells her what’s going on. We are very fortunate that Elizabeth is as well-adjusted as she is, and that’s she’s not afraid to talk to us.  And we’re also fortunate she can navigate her way through high school without getting lost. 

We also talked about silly topics like the boy group, One Direction, and Elizabeth’s frustration when we can’t identify which one is singing. My short fall, I’m sorry to say, as Leslie seems to nail it every time. When I look at Elizabeth with that blue hair, I still can’t believe she came out of my belly. We know some parents would have a problem with a head full of Manic Panic Blue, even if it is a perfectly harmless way for a teenager to express herself. We feel quite strongly, however, that there will be no piercings or tattoos, thank you very much. We figured out long ago that a parent must carefully pick where to put a foot down.  A heavy hand or judgmental tone can easily alienate a growing teen.  And then what do you have?

We had a wonderful family day in spite of the unexpected problems.  After all, that was the point right from the start.

Fatigue: Going with it

I’m in the midst of “the hump” as I’ve written previously. This is the weird low energy, even fatigued time that occurs after surgery and before a healed stomach can handle proteins. Confused, the body thinks it’s starving and cycles down to conserve energy.  It’s supposed to be approximately one month post-surgery for the body to figure out what’s happening. I'm beginning my third week post surgery.

I feel like I did when I was pregnant. Really. When pregnant, the body is working so hard it’s the equivalent of climbing a mountain 24/7.  So feeling exhausted is normal, particularly in the first trimester. Now, I am absolutely exhausted 2 or 3 days out of the week and can nap like it’s the end of the world.

My appetite increases gradually, and I’m able to keep more down successfully.  I’ve had good luck with bran cereal, Leslie’s custard (heavenly and nutrient packed), and of course her chicken soup (ditto).  Fails include pastina (too rich) and cream of wheat (despite initial success). There are foods that look and smell divine, yet I dare not eat them because I know what the result will be. However, I’m able to eat more in a sitting. I mean the difference between ¼ cup over a week ago and creeping closer to the 1 ½ cup I’m suppose to consume in one meal. So, I should restrict myself to the prescribed three square meals with no snacks soon.

Here I sit pooped, but not entirely guilt free. Thank heaven I’m not working. Having to get up early and push myself through a day of Corporate clowns would be exceedingly difficult.  I feel extremely fortunate to be in this place and enjoy where I am, while it lasts, knowing it’ll probably be years before I get another chance to rest like this.

So for now … I’m going with it.

Post-Surgery Preamble

I’m home from surgery already.  I can’t believe how quickly time marches by, but it does. It marches on and on and then you turn and look back to see what you’ve done.  Over six months ago, I was at a New Year’s Eve party thinking over the tiniest possibility of having the gastric sleeve, and now here I am.  I just had one.

But it wasn’t all easy.

As when Leslie had her knee replacement, there are some things they just don’t tell you going into this sort of procedure.  Parts of it were really difficult.

Here are some of the highlights, as I experienced them:

• As usual, it was difficult to find any vein to use for an I.V.  This time the anesthesiologist herself did it. I have veins like my grandmother (RIP), and after taking no liquids for over 6 hours as pre-surgery prep, they were thoroughly and effectively in hiding.
• When I first woke up in recovery, it hurt.  It really hurt.
• The first time I tried to swallow something, anything, even the tiniest sip, I erp’d it back up.  And because my stomach was much, much smaller, fortunately that experience has become much, much easier.
• When I finally could swallow something, I could feel that tiny bit plop into my stomach like a small ball of flame. They call it a belly blast. Luckily, the sensation went away after a day.
• I’m not a fan of morphine. It’s a good medicine, but it gave me really awful dreams about people I love. Gross. I couldn’t wait to get off it.
• I’ve lost almost ten pounds being in the hospital, putting me below 300 pounds for the first time in years. Yay! This is a benchmark for me!
• The nurses in the hospital at Mills Peninsula, with one notable exception (there’s always one), were great.  Given they are in the middle of a strike, I felt like I was in good hands the entire time I was there.
• When I was released, I was ready to go. No sooner.
• Last night, the third night after surgery, I was hungry. Sucking on a piece of watermelon was heaven.
• I’m supposed to drink lots of water and a protein supplement called Isopure. It tastes like a very light juice, and at $11.00 for a six-pack, it’s good stuff. 
• For dinner last night, Leslie made me a heavenly consomme’.  Six teaspoons was all I could handle.
• This morning for breakfast we dined on cream of wheat, and it was divine. I had eight teaspoons this time!
• My total weight loss is twenty seven pounds.

The irony in all this is that prior to my procedure, my stomach was the center of my life. It still is, but in a totally different way.

What a Day (More Adventures in Weight Loss Surgery)

My weight loss surgery, the gastric sleeve, is less than one week away. Today, my family and I attended pre-op appointments at the hospital from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. I met with the head nurse in the Anesthesia Department, and the Lab took more of my blood. We attended a meeting about my surgery’s process and recovery, learned a lot more about what I can and can’t eat at what time in my recovery specifically, and had another hour with a nutritionist.

The surgical process is really cool. It’s laparoscopic, so my abdominal cavity will be expanded with carbon dioxide (the kind we breathe out), to provide the doctor with a clear working area that’s seen through a tiny camera. Then, all the work is done through tubes. In the end, I should have only five tiny incisions. The worst part of all this is that I have to be at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. because I’m first on the table. Gross. I’m no morning person. There’s a video describing the procedure at the bottom of this post.  It's from a different hospital, but it’s instructional without being graphic.

I was very happy to hear that people come from all over the world to get this procedure from my doctor. He’s an expert in his field, which made me feel good. It’s ironic. I picked him because he was closest to our house, and because I know one of his patients.  He's one of the best in the world.

The day was long and when it was over, it brought my commitment closer to home. I found myself needing time alone to “chew” over it all, so I took the dogs to the dog park to get some time to myself. Leslie was home with her foot elevated. She really pushed it too far (read more here). Elizabeth got very concerned about everything and was upset in an indirect manner, which is typical for kids. So to unwind, we spent the evening cloistered in the living room with our dogs. Leslie made a super dinner, and we watched and capped on ridiculous reality teevee shows. Later on, when Elizabeth got the clicker, she and Leslie watched “The Family Guy” which is always good for a laugh. Our daughter made Leslie a convert.

What a day.

PACIFIC COAST DREAM MACHINES EVENT ON MAY 1

Come see us at the

Pacific Coast Dream Machines 
event in Half Moon Bay, California, on
Sunday, May 1, 2011
from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.
Discover original art that has not been for sale to date
and other treasures in our booth!

 * 

Beverly Drive

10 Seconds in Heaven: A Bunny Tail (I mean, tale)

Dis bunny iz not happy
(photo by Liz)

I managed to avoid going on a "bunny reconnaissance mission" with Elizabeth last night. She is determined to stage a coup and rescue the rabbit we caught Sunday from its careless owners. It is, indeed, very cute, and yes, the way its owners are treating it is borderline negligence ... but I don't want any bunnies. We did the bunny thing already when Elizabeth was in kindergarten.


In 2001, we had two bunnies. First there was the boy, Clever Rabbit Nibbles, who was very sweet. He was a brown sort of color, and had a lovely disposition. Then, we got Miss Lucille, who was black and white and named after the teacher Elizabeth had at Montessori pre-K. This bunny wasn't so sweet. She started out sweet, but she also used to run around the living room chewing on things until she happened upon some electrical wires and nearly electrocuted herself. After that she wasn't so nice. Have you ever heard a bunny snarl? It's a scary thing.

We kept Clever and Miss Lucille on the back lanai in South City. It was sort of an outdoor living space off the third bedroom and very lovely. They each had their own extremely roomy cage, and despite our veterinarian's many warnings about leaving two bunnies of the opposite sex together for any length of time, we did ... once ... when I was cleaning cages. It took Clever only moments to realize there was no barrier between he and his beloved, and so he and Miss Lucille had their 10 seconds in heaven, which is all the time it takes for bunnies. The female bunny or doe ovulates on command at any time. It's not like a dog. An un-neutered female dog will go into heat once every six months if you're lucky and, as a responsible owner; all you must do is keep her off the streets and in a diaper. A doe, on the other hand, drops an egg any time a buck smiles at her. In about three weeks we had three more bunnies.

Elizabeth and Miss Lucille,
the snarly doe

Miss Lucille had three of the sweetest little babies, and she hid them for the longest time. This is what rabbits do in the wild. They go to great lengths to hide their new born babies, who at birth are naked, blind, squeeling little cheeze doodles. Elizabeth called me at work one day so excited about seeing them finally. And they really were the cutest things you ever did see. So, then I had five rabbits to clean up after, until they got too big to house any longer.

We managed to find homes for each of the babies. Domino went to a store, Vanilla went to a third grader from where Elizabeth was going to school. The third one, Clever Jr., went to a private home, as well. Then, due to circumstances beyond our control, we had to find homes for Clever and Miss Lucille, because having so many rabbit cages on the lanai with all that tasty rabbit food started attracting other critters ... ew.

Rescued!

We were ready to be done with the rabbits for a time, I think. But it was very fun, and we got some outstanding photographic moments out of it. I have the most beautiful picture of Elizabeth with the babies in a basket, but for the life of me I can't find it.

Now, we've got rats ... er, ratties, as they're called. But they're both female.  No worries there.

D❤

Sacred Space

Donna at Pescadero Beach

I’ve always relied on sacred space for piece of mind. It is present, available to be shared by everyone, and it is consistent. No matter what my problems are, or what situation I’m in, at no matter what age, I have both unconsciously and consciously sought out and found sacred space throughout my life. Sacred space can be a natural setting, like the mountains, or a prairie, perhaps lakeside or your garden at sunrise. It can also be something you create, like a shelf, or a more detailed altar. It can be your kitchen, when no one is in it or the backyard at night, just you and the stars. What matters most is the feeling you get being there.


I go to the ocean to find my sacred space. It’s where I feel connected to a higher power and my spirituality. I’ve always resided close to a large, living body of water. First, it was the Connecticut coastline, where the power of the Atlantic is muted by Long Island Sound. Then, it was the crisp, cold Pacific Ocean on the California Coast, where nothing blocks the sound of waves crashing on the shore. Living near water has always been important to me, and in times of turmoil, the ocean is my refuge, the place where I go to recharge my batteries.

By far the most sacred ocean spot I’ve visited is Pescadero Beach in Northern California. Once, while picnicking at this beach with my family, I said to my daughter, “Do you see Mother Nature at work here, Elizabeth?” And her answer, completely innocent at three years old was, “Boy, she sure is getting everything wet!” I cherish all of my experiences at the ocean, but that higher power feels more present to me here than any place else.

I find my sacred space at the Pacific Ocean.

Where do you find yours?

Pescadero Beach 2010

Ios: A Personal Love Affair

By Guest Author, Lambi Lentakis

The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set ...
Lord Byron

The Greek islands have held so many people in their thrall over the ages. Many have roamed their shores and written about their beauty and the special light of the skies and the colors of the sea. I grew up in London, and because my parents were Greek, we visited Greece a lot as a family and made many trips around numerous islands. Later I traveled farer a field, but I felt myself constantly drawn back to Greece and her islands. Deciding that the Cycladic group of islands appealed to me most, I island-hopped extensively, discovering many beautiful places, until I came upon Ios. Here, I had found my dream island and the source of my inspiration, so I decided to stay.



What makes Ios special?


What is so special about Ios? When I first arrived in the early 1970s, I was looking for sun, sea and fun (much like people are nowadays). These I found in abundance. Along the road, I discovered stunningly beautiful landscapes, a graphic traditional village, stupendous beaches and a sense of timelessness. Yes, Ios has changed over the years, but somehow it has remained basically the same. The old traditions of the locals are entwined with modern technologies and the influx of visitors only really changes the rhythm of the island during the few summer months.

One of the reasons I love Ios so much are the beaches: most islands have one or two lovely beaches – Ios has over 30, some of them spectacular. There’s a beach to suit all tastes – sandy, rocky, pebbled, busy or remote. If you want to participate in water sports activities or poolside fun, you can – and there’s even a scuba diving school. On the other hand, if you want a beach to yourself, you can also find one. The waters are crystal clear which make swimming and snorkeling very enjoyable.


If you get tired of the beaches, there is always the picturesque village to explore with its little white houses with doors and shutters of varying shades of blue and its winding narrow alleyways – some of them partly covered. The little back streets have a charm of their own with beautiful little patches of color of bougainvillea and other plants. Lining the main lanes are shops, little bars and places to eat. No cars are allowed into the traditional part of the village which is built on a snail-shaped hill, with many steps to reach the higher parts. It is well worth the climb as when you reach the top with the 4 churches, the views over the sea are incredible.

The nightlife is vibrant with a vast choice of places to drink, socialize and dance the night away. The main square of the village is a great meeting place and people of all nationalities and ages congregate in the evenings to meet up and have fun. In the bottom square you can listen to live Greek music in the summer evenings. Both squares are great for people-watching and having a catch up with your friends and can get quite busy at night, while in the mornings they are peaceful places to linger over coffee with friends. Here, I made the best friends of my life and also met my future husband.


If you are a lover of nature, there are various treks through the hills and mountains which show you a different aspect of the island and some very strange rock formations. In springtime, if there has been enough rain, the mountains are covered in a carpet of wild flowers and wherever you tread the scent of thyme & other herbs perfumes the air around you. My husband has found 16 different varieties of wild orchids on his walks and well as many other flowers.


Village life


Maybe it is village life itself which is the main draw of Ios for me. Here, I know so many people – the locals, the workers, the visitors who come back at set times every year – and I also get to know new people every time I’m here. Not only do I know the people, I know their pets too. A walk through the village involves many stops to chat to the butcher, the baker, the boutique owner and also pat their dogs & talk to their cats. This feeling of community & lack of anonymity is common to most villages, but Ios offers something else as well. Because of the tourist nature of the island, there is a metropolitan flavor and a break down of barriers. Visitors are mainly cheerful as they are on holiday & this creates an open, joyful atmosphere. One day I may meet an artist or musician, another day a bricklayer or a carpenter. The millionaire rubs shoulders with the back-backer. The young mingle with the old and nobody looks askance at the 83 year old artist who comes every year to drink her retsina and dance the night away.

All these things contribute to why I’m in love with Ios and I hope I have managed to convey the “Hotel California nature” of the island – I am not the only one who keeps returning. Even those who do not visit the island for years, often come back with their families to show their partners & offspring the magic of Ios. It gained its reputation as a party island in the 1980s, but in truth, it is much more than that. Ios caters not only for the party animals, but also for those who seek peace & serenity. It may be an island for youth, but older people also appreciate its charm. The locals have seen various tribes of visitors pass through their land – from the hippies to the Goths, rockers, punks – you name it. Many eccentrics have graced its shores. The Niotes (people of Ios) have looked on with acceptance (and amusement) at the various antics that people get up to. They embraced us with hospitality and love, although our customs are so different to theirs. They allowed us to be ourselves and to act out our dreams. On Ios I can be as silly as I like & find people to join me in my silliness – it is the only place in the world that I feel I have the freedom to be me – and I think that is the real reason for its magic.

About the Author


Lambi is a bohemian artist who finds her spiritual solace on the Greek island of Ios, although she spends the winter months in Athens. Her work is inspired by the people she knows and the places she goes, and of course, by the island she so loves, which manifests regularly in her paintings. You can see more of Lambi's work on her blog and follow her on Twitter. 
 
Read my blogpost Kaleidoscope which features Lambi's art.  Also, Lambi inspired the piece of art to the left here, which is a page from my Art Journal.  She loved it and uses it as her profile pic on FB.

FROM OUR WORKSHOP: Framed Collage Work

I've enjoyed working with stickers so much!

My day job is absolutely looney tunes right now, so I find this creative venture entirely relaxing and thoroughly therapeutic. So much that what I've done with cards and bookmarks has evolved into something hangable. This is what' s happening in our workshop ...

Mermaid Garden © May 2, 2010 -- 8 x 10 including matte, collage art compromised of card stock paper, stickers, gems, and metallic pen. This is framed in a Gallery Clipframe (frameless). I had a blast doing this! Elizabeth and I found these mermaids in a scrapbooking store yesterday. Aren't they cool?

Mermaid Garden 2 © May 2, 2010 -- 8 x 10 including matte, collage art compromised of card stock paper, stickers, gems, and metallic pen. This is framed in a Gallery Clipframe (frameless).

Bumble Bee Happy 2 © April 23, 2010 -- 8 x 10 including matte, collage art compromised of card stock paper, stickers, gems, and metallic pen. This is framed in a Gallery Clipframe (frameless). It's really a variation of a series of cards I made recently. The faeries are adorable!

I should have these posted on my art site soon. Let me know what you think?

Do you like them?

Love,
D~