Little Changes

Chin up and Cheerios, to hell with resolutions… it’s time to make some little changes.

I put a work table in my office, still have some boxes stashed in there that need unpacked, but I need to start making art again.

Doc added Welbutrin to my med mix to kill two birds with one stone as that anti-depressant should also help reduce nicotine cravings. I’m not allowed to drink while I’m on that and I still have about three inches left in a pint of Rumple Minze that I stashed back to have something to toast in the New Year, so pills can wait until January.

I’ll be so glad to see the holidays over. Christmas was not a good day for me.

Like, on what planet is it okay to wake up in your girlfriend’s bed on December 25th and not give the woman you supposedly love a present? It doesn’t have to be extravagant or expensive, just some little something that says “hey babe… this reminded me of you… I thought of you…” Hell, it could be a used coffee mug or a 75 cent sherry glass from a thrift shop, one frikkin pencil, or even a wrapped up candy bar. Anything… after all, it is the thought that counts.

If it’s the thought that counts, giving me nothing makes me wonder if I count.

I’ve racked my brain trying to figure it out… stepped back, looked at the bigger picture. There’s some strange dynamics going on… as far as I can tell, I somehow inherited some agreement from his previous relationship, perhaps made in lean times, to focus on children and now that the children are raised, the focus is on grandchildren.  I know he gave money to the mommies to buy gifts for young ones… but he did not exchange gifts with anyone, not even his adult daughters. I am the only one who gave him a gift… wasn’t much, just a scarf, but that’s really kind of messed up.

Yes, the whole Santa thing “is for children” and the holidays are way too commercialized, but damn it… my inner child wants to open a present on Christmas day.

I did not say anything… we did not discuss it, still haven’t… he gives me gifts on other occasions, perfume for my birthday, came in today with a blood pressure monitor that he ordered from a catalog, so I don’t get the Christmas thing.

 

LATER:  New Year’s Eve was a quiet, sober night at home. He said that he wanted to be asleep before midnight, but ended up picking on me, yakking on his phone, and watching television. He was playful, not mean… but to hell with any fantasy of bringing in the New Year right.

I’m up in the wee hours…  between the “I’m watching that” basketball game and his snoring like a freight train (obviously not watching that) and a few tears on my pillow, I had enough… got up, found my pint, poured a cup of coffee, and started a new drawing. Couple hours later, he’s breathing easy and the TV is off. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

Here’s the start of the new drawing, quick snap by cell phone. It’s so not done yet… just laid in some colors along an idea of sweeping changes through my life. Thanks for reading.

Anticipation

I don’t want to jinx anything, but I have my eye on a house located on a main bus route near retail stores and other businesses. Anticipation is making me wait… to quote an old song best known for a ketchup commercial.

Actually, the landlord of that house is keeping me waiting.  I’m not allowed to see inside until I pass approval, which can take up to two weeks. I don’t know if anyone else has applied.

The way I see it, if I am supposed to move into that house, then all my ducks will line up in a row… click, click, click, bang. Done deal. I haven’t seen inside yet so, who knows? The location is perfect for me, the price is right, but the interior might not be suitable for my needs.

I am leaping in leap year… if not to there, then somewhere else.

Change is coming… the winds have been sweeping through my life for months now. I have reeled with loss, so it is good to feel anticipation again. Thanks for reading!

Edit note… I agree with the Anonymous Someone… lyrics should be “making me wait” instead of “making me late” as that’s how most people sing it, regardless of Bing lyrics search results (link here), so I edited the first paragraph.

Astral Dream Boots?

“It’s been such a long time, I think I should be going…”

That song has been in my head all frikkin day, so I had to pop Boston into the CD player for some tunes while I write this, let “Foreplay/Longtime” cycle repeat enough to irritate my neighbors.

I can’t get those traveling boots out of my head.

Maybe I could sketch them up? If I draw them, maybe I could find someone to make them, but damn, that could cost an easy two grand. Maybe more and I can’t even afford a frikkin set of 120 Faber-Castell Polychromos in the TIN box at Dick Blick.

I liked the way I felt wearing those boots in the dream. I love how they felt on me, how they looked so artsy and bohemian that they literally defined the terms.

I could walk into the unknown wearing those boots, self assurred and confident, filled with a knowing that everything is fine.

After describing the boots to Jai and Dee (a.k.a. Lady Feri from Illinois) when they popped in for a visit today, Dee suggested they might be astral travel boots.

Logic me says nah… I’ve also vetoed 99% of boot dream explanations found online as the only definition that echo how I felt wearing them included “self assured” and “confident” words. There are too many variations of boot styles for one cookie cutter meaning. These were not farm boots, work boots, rain boots, combat or even cowboyish… they were so artsy, devinely scrunched and richly textured with kind of a long haired multi-shades of dark not exactly cat fur trim curved above the knee, maybe a sable or something? They were way cooler than anything I’ve ever seen.

I think it has a lot more to say about my state of mind under current circumstances than anything else.

I feel a change season coming. It’s not here yet so I have no idea what the future holds, but it is coming. It is like when you smell rain coming before the clouds roll in, before the first drop splats.

Maybe it is just awareness of life already changing.

My only child is 29 years old today and totally doing the adult thing… she is not relying on me for anything anymore. That’s totally cool, the way it should be. It kind of amazes me and gives me a post-empty-nest thing at the same time. I’ve been playing safety net as she struggled to learn how to make it on her own for so long that it feels odd not to, but she is a strong, capable woman now with a good man beside her so that phase of my life is over.

If I had the means, I could travel. Traveling in the dream without luggage does remind me of an old “if I ever hit the lottery” fantasy of walking into an airport without telling anyone, carrying nothing but a handbag slung on my shoulder, and picking a destination of the board just to go watch the sunrise someplace else. I can see myself doing that wearing those artsy bohemian traveling boots.

Now I’m just dreaming out loud.