A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

Michael and I have a couple that we bike and fellowship with through church whose husband is a 3rd year art student. This year he is studying portrait painting with oils. He was sharing his love of that particular mediam over Sunday brunch with us and stated he was looking for subjects to paint. He would pay his subjects $8.00 an hour. They usually get people through running an ad in the paper, sometimes having them wear certain outfits, etc. Being as my work schedule was reduced to nothing at the time, I volunteered thinking it might be fun. I had no idea what goes into a painting! My job was to sit on a chair that was on a short table and stare at an object out the window for 22 minutes without moving. He would set a kitchen timer which would allow me 7 minute breaks as well between sittings. Sounds easy, no?? It's wasn't. I kept falling asleep after about 15 minutes. I found it very hard. I did have a walkman to listen to and found that classical music was the only form of music that kept me awake. Don't ask my why. One would think talk radio would do it but that had no effect. It took approximately 2 months. I had to always wear the same clothes and the chair was marked so that it was always in the same place. We also would do it at the same time of day so the rays from the sun through the window would be the same each time or close to it. His teacher would stop each day and give him ideas on how to improve each part. I never thought my hair had so many hues or that my blue eyes actually have green tones in them. I thought I looked to serious and a bit too old but then I'm a difficult critic when judging myself.
Last week was the final spring showing of the artists work. There are approximately 50+ artists at various stages of development of their art. Dan did a great job and even though it was hard and I wouldn't do it again, I found it was a wonderful learning experience of which I am proud to have taken part in. I'm including a shot of Dan with Michael in front of a self-portrait Dan is working on. (Sorry about the body portrait behind me. Hope nobody's offended. It is one of the subject art forms used for some of the students)

Bandit

Since not everyone is on Facebook that reads my blog I thought I better cover the latest addition to the family. His name is Bandit, the name of which I'm still not fixed on yet but it's okay. I wanted to call him Louis or Louie after my favorite western author Louis Lamour. We then considered Hunter but even though he is a hunting variety of English Setter he will never hunt. Then we thought about Dupont since he lives on Dupont Avenue but then we would probably end up calling him Dewey and we thought that maybe my good friend Myra wouldn't appreciate that. I thought about Ranger after The Lone Ranger since he also had a mask and was a good guy and a bandit is usually not a good guy but then our little guy is not a good guy yet since he is not quite housebroken and likes to nibble on tender fingers with his needle sharp teeth and steal my small kitchen towels that hang off of my refrigerator. However he has his good points too. He is a very cuddly type and loves to be held. If he is tired from all his shenanigans and you rub his chest very gently he falls asleep in your arms. He considers me his meal ticket since I'm the one that feeds him and rescues him from his kennel most days and when he goes in another room he sometimes thinks he's alone in the house and cries for me even though all he has to do is come into the room I'm in.

They tell me he will be bigger than Comet but then that's okay since it's more to love.

Will You Still ...When I'm Sixty-Four (or 90)

Sorry my blog has taken so long to post but Google shut us down for maintenance reasons. Anyway, I thought I'd slip a "long lifer" blog post to cheer any of you that think life is a bummer when you reach old age. My Uncle Norman turned 90 last week and when one of his kids posted his picture on her blog I felt compelled to as well. After all, turning 90 doesn't happen every day. I came to realize that I really don't know that much about him but the things I do know I'll share. He was born in Duluth and has one sister, my mom. He is from Scottish descent having the last name Cameron. He had a band when he was a teenager and played the trumpet. Even though he wasn't close to my mom growing up he is now. He calls her every Sunday without fail. He calls me about once a month. Yesterday he called to say that his son bought a van that his Little Rascal fits into so he can go to church. I thought he was going to burst through the phone. He spends every Mother's Day with his kids and they go to the horse races in the Seattle area. Life has been kind to him especially since his mind is still pretty sharp. So if you are ever in the Seattle area and run into an elderly Scottish gentleman riding a red Little Rascal that looks like the picture on this post say hi for me and btw, don't forget to throw him a salute: he also served his country during World War II as an Air Force "Radar Man" in China.

Molding Hearts and Changing Lives

Last month a friend named Sharon prayed with me for employment. I have been a temp for approximately 2 years now and want permanent employment, or thought I did. No matter what happens I always want His will to be done even if I think I know better what I need or desire. Right after that wonderful fateful day of prayer, I got two temp assignments and have been steadily employed. My last day at the downtown Allina clinic will be tomorrow and I have already been placed somewhere next week. I've been praying for permanent employment so I could be part of a "team". Through these two assignments and the prayers of faithful friends God has molded my heart to accept being a temp, not worry about permanent placement, and work where I can get assignments. After all it's a wonderful way to meet and work with friendly fellow caregivers and meet the needs of patients and their families as we all work our way through the healthcare system that Allina offers us. Btw, the picture was taken during a complimentary breakfast that was jumpstarting a volunteer program through the Allina clinics. They insisted I be a part of the picture because "you are a part of the team, after all".

Comet (Not The Cleanser)

Two nights ago we went to bed and I was awoken by our dog Comet seizing on the floor by the bed. The whole rest of the day is a blurr for us both as she had two more episodes and basically lost her ability to comprehend not only where she was but who we were. By 6 o'clock that night we were in the vets office with my two youngest grown children as we were forced to euthanize her. She was 14 and in excellent health. We all cried buckets of tears and ended the evening crying over a meal at Perkins down the street and talking about what a great dog she was to us. The question of heaven and dogs came up. I would like to quote a wonderful article from Dogworld that was put in Comet's file that I kept with the vacinations a few years back. Bear with me: it's worth it.
"I am not a member of the clergy or a theologian, so I will admit right off that I have no authority to discuss such weighty matters. This is just my opinion. But honestly, it wouldn't be heaven if there were no animals. I believe all animals go to heaven to make it a better place for us. But I believe animals merit heaven in their own right - probably more than I do.
A lifetime of living with animals has convinced me that they have the purest souls. By that, I mean they seem to experience every feeling in its purest form. Their joy is never diminished by thoughts of the past or future. Their trust is never less than absolute. Their innocence is spotless. They love us in a way that is limitless and all-embracing. Their devotion is never tempered by doubt or self-interest and they accept themselves in the same way they accept us: they never see our flaws; they are never self-conscous about their own. They struggle to live in our world, on our terms and accept our demand that they put aside their very nature to live up to our expectations. They joyfully offer us the assistance we require, the approval we crave, and they never stop to think about what's in it for them. Sometimes their love heals us: Sometimes it transforms us...." Comet did both for me. R.I.P. "Sweets"(my sometimes nickname for her).

A Little Slice of Life

The other day I was at my moms and her photo album had fallen apart. She had created it back in the 40s so it was on it's way out anyway. I told her we could create a new album with the pictures and we could have some fun walking down memory lane. She wanted to throw most of the photos away stating "I don't know most of these people anymore, I'll never see them again and it's too much work." Spoken like a true 87-yr-old. I wouldn't let her off the hook that easy so we delved in and took a look at some of them. Even though she was born in Duluth she spent from junior high years and up in the Minneapolis area. She went to Washburn High School and went steady with a guy named Donald who we both agreed was a real "looker". She would later run off to California with some girl-friends when her job as a typist at Cargill Corp. was ending (yea, they had layoffs then too). That is where she met some guy named Harold who she later became engaged to but then met and married my dad at a USO show in San Diego and the rest is history.

While in high school she had tons of friends, hung out at Lake Nokomis and was a baton twirler for the marching band at Washburn High School. Her best friend was Arlene Dahl, the American film actress that worked in TV (What's My Line and various movies) in the 50s. My mom use to go over to her house and they would practice their twirling. When Dahl was active in TV in the 50s the press would always state her age as about 4 years younger than she was and my mom said she would yell at the TV "she was not born in 1927, she was born in 1923 you fool!" So much for a little slice of her life very different from mine. I never dated in high school or college and I would never be brave enough to run off to another state with friends but then my mom was a real "looker" and braver when she was in her 20s than I was. For those of you with moms that are still among the living pull out those old photo albums tucked away in a closet somewhere and walk down memory lane with her. For those of you whose mom is no longer with you take a look anyway and remember the good times.

Mom is the one on the end closest to the photographer.

The Forest Through The Trees

As some of you know I have been searching for permanent employment since losing a job that I had secured in August so by the end of the summer it will have been a year. If I could have held on, my probation would have ended this month. Of course it was not to be since I was unable to keep the job due to circumstances that were under and not under my control. Since that time I have gone back and forth throughout something akin to the 5 stages of grief. I regret never fighting for the job, never defending my position or trying to explain some of the issues at hand to the supervisor. I regret that I have let it consume me so much so that I can't raise myself out of the depression that weighs me down. Part of the reason it was so very devastating for me was that I had worked for the temporary company that placed me there and they chose to not have me do temp work after losing the permanent position. This meant that not only was I going to lose more employment time as a temp since I had worked more than 20 hours a week for them but I would no longer ever see all the nurses doctors and staff that I had worked with over the course of 2 years. I had developed some wonderful friendships with supervisors, the staff and the doctors at the various clinics I was assigned to. One of them was an alumni of my college and I enjoyed working for her and her with me since we had a mutual bond together. The other day I was feeling like a modern day Job lamenting on my state in life. Then I went on a quilt retreat that at the time God was again speaking to me but I didn’t see it. I quilted, fellowshipped and generally had a good time. I never realized that the message was right in front of me “Bloom where you are planted”! Even though I continue to struggle wondering where I fit in the vast realm of things I have decided for now to bloom where I’m planted whether it’s cleaning the bathroom or washing the dog. I don’t think I will have time to grieve the loss of something that probably was not meant to be anyway and move on. Thanks for listening.