November 2004 Archives



November twenty fourth, nineteen sixty four was the day that I popped out. I was two months earlier than my ETA and so birth was my first display of the INTJ and an incurable condition that causes me to be early for everything. ( of course this often puts me at odds with the men in my house that have the opposing condition which the primary symptom is the inability to understand the significance of the minute hand on a clock.) I was born interrupting a holiday and unlike the typical thanksgiving turkey, I weighed in at a mere four pounds, which may have something to do with my stature now being just slight of five feet. My mother, who had lost several children at this point did her share of praying over my "tank" (the incubator that was to be my first home probably sealed the "I" for introvert in my INTJ because from the beginning I have liked closed quiet places where no one can touch me. The rough beginning didn't stop there.

After a brief time home from the hospital I returned having pneumonia, my parents rushing me into the hospital in a panic. Upon arrival back I had turned a lovely shade of blue which could have been my end except for a quick thinking doctor and an oxygen tank. Being "blue" can result in the death of several brain cells, and in my case they were the cells reserved for doing math. Oh well I didn't need them anyway.

A rough start to this life, but when my mother tells this story she always punctuates the end by telling me how I was her miracle baby and how special I am.

So today is my birthday. Today I am forty. And what a ride it has been.

I started down this blogging road of self reflection and realized that anyone who bothers to read this are at risk of being bored out of their minds. So if you venture forth consider yourself warned because the next few posts are going to seem utterly self absorbed (more that usual, which is pretty bad). Consider yourself warned.

ballistic chair

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I was denied my artist date on friday by the rude presence of an electrician in my house. I can not concentrate when there is anyone (other than family) in my house, so I spent most of the day in a semi distracted state in which the only activity that seemed possible was nervous house cleaning. What was an electrician doing in my house?

Well it is another small chapter in the long saga of the anderson house remodel. This particular installation is chapter five in the replacement of the septic tank. Actually the house is on a septic tank and we are endeavering to hook up to the city sewer. Not one of the more sexy tasks in remoldeling and certainly not one you will find on any of those decorator shows on HGTV. Anyway the reason we are on chapter five is because there are several stages to this project. Digging trenches for pipes, finding the existing tank (which turned out to be a real challenge and quite funny when my plumber friend Danny had run a snake to what we thought was the back yard only to discover that it had gone the wrong direction and was sticking out of the stack ten feet in the air from our roof) etc. etc. Our house is on a bit of a slope and so one of the discoveries was that we needed a pump. I am not sure what the exact technical term for this appliance is but I have heard it referred to as a grinder pump. What does it do? You guessed it. It grinds everything up and essetially works against gravity to force solids into the city pipeline.

Or, simply put, it makes poop flow uphill.

Anyway this "grinder pump", which my sweet hubby has lovingly dubbed "the cuisinart", has to be wired to the electical in order to run its motor. So enter the electrician.

I knew he was coming at some point, but he did not call first (big mistake to an introvert) and just showed up friday morning. Me, with my paintbrush poised in my hand, answered the doorbell and knew that the day was taking a turn.

Oh well. I cleaned my brush, made polite conversation and shifted gears.

But last night it hit me with a vengence and I had to just paint something. And I was too bent to concentrate on my present canvas and I knew if I went after that in my existing state of mind I would regret it.

So I hauled this chair out of the storage room and went ballistic.

Not the height of my creative game, but it sure felt good.


looking through a new lens

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It's friday and it has been a busy week.
Monday. Three polish men breaking windows in my house
Tuesday. Planet art and business stuff. Attempting the Mountain Pose in yoga.
Wednesday. Sick teen at home. Soup, soup, soup.
Thursday. Bifocals

Well, it is true. Days away from 40 and I join the ranks of those who wear those spectacles that separate the women from the girls. Today I see better. Last week my sweet hubby and I endured tandum eye exams. His result was an expected slight hike in prescription. My diagnosis, progressive lenses. I had to stifle a laugh when the doctor first told me. Expecially when the term she used was "multifocals". I am not an expert on word developement and pc terminology but I know that this was the gentle way of saying BIFOCALS! The other word that was bantered around that I thought was amusing was "progressives". Upon receiving the scrawled paper prescription from the doctor, my husband (who was having a great old time with this) asked if progressives came with a free walker.

You think you know someone.

But really the joke wasn't on me, because I too found it histerically funny. The "J" in my INTJ runs so deep that it even has my physical demise scheduled. Aging like clockwork.

I do find it amusing, and I love stages and seasons of life. This is a good marker for the next one. I am going to be forty and there is cause for celebration. All the really hard foundational work in my life has been laid. Now for the fun. It may sound kind of strange or even smack of what some people term "mid life crisis". Truly it is time for celebration. No crisis here, just plans for what the next stage looks like.

Typically these times for me involve a whole lot of reflection. Sort of a personal inventory. Some might consider this a spiritual discipline. I have never been one for new year's resolutions. My reflection tends to be on a grander scale with larger time frames. It helps me review what amazing gifts from heaven I have received and what kind of steward I have been with them. It is a good time for recalibration. It also can be very humbling.

So here I sit typing these words peering through my new specs. A new look, a new view, and the anticipation of what the next stage of life will be. Who knows.

reflection of self in the hall of mirrors

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reflection of selfsm.jpg


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I created this image yesterday starting with a photo I took at Renfest of a mime. As I worked on it the idea of temptation emerged. Maybe it was the expression of the mime that took me there. There was also this huge painting of a court jester that I did back in college that came to mind. This image struck me with some mystery. Beauty and intrigue with a hint of something unknown underneath.

Now time for my friday artist date. It is raining and I am a little sad. I think I will paint sad rain.

possessed by eggs

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Unlike the day a week ago or so that I was possessed by eggs, today I am working with no distraction, full bore.

It must be the yoga.

Although the day I was possessed by eggs was not to be discarded as frivolous there was creative fruit produced. I was making a breakfast of hard boiled eggs and upon putting the newly boiled eggs in a bowl I stopped in my tracks.

eggs. they are beautiful.

must take picture…

no silly, you don't have time right now.

just one picture…

you know you won't be able to stop at one.

must take picture…


so for the next hour I shot "eggs" in various forms. Of course once crossing that threshold I couldn't stop at boiled. I shot them raw, cracked, shells, no-shells, yokes, whites…

you get the idea.

But today is not that day. Oh, I will create, but I have more administrative work to do. Today I finish the addition of two new artists on the planet. Uploading their beautiful work and keywording each image one by one.

It takes time. But I don't mind. It gives me such joy to give these other creative souls a venue or maybe even a springboard for their creative expression. Today I can rejoice in the creativity of others because the planet keeps spinning.

Today my little business is humming right along. It has been a challenge the last few weeks, but today things look like we will be ok. After what might seem like completely dismantling my dream, new subscribers keep coming. Even though we took a hit, things are looking up. We are not even close to where we were, but that is ok. Time will close the gap. And what is that saying, "you have to break a few eggs…".

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pretzel prayer


I recently vowed to myself that coming up on forty meant it was time to reassess the state of my body and start some sort of exercise program. But since I have learned that drastic measures never last and that it takes 30 days to develop a habit I had to resort to something simple to start.


So I started today. Borrowing the yoga mat from my son's bedroom I plopped my butt in front of our tv for the morning yoga show that I discovered channel surfing a few days ago. Hey, it's free. I figure if I take it slow and not pressure myself I might gradually make some progress. The timing is perfect because the guys leave at the same time the show starts. Taking 30 minutes to an hour to do this is not going to put too much of a dent in my day as it typically takes me that much time to wake up and function. Maybe this will jump start it.

Call me crazy.

The deal is, I have noticed that spending most of my time in front of a computer has kind of atrophied my entire body in the shape of my chair. So I figure a little yoga will loosen the joints. It can't hurt.

So at 7:30 this morning I was attempting the lotus position. Operative word being, "attempting". Mind you, I have never been very flexible. Having a genuine fear that if I really forced that position I would get stuck that way and my guys would arrive home to discover the pretzel and have to pry me apart, I settled for just crossing my legs. Really my goal is just getting some good stretching in so that I don't feel so stiff all the time. So I watched the show, with my little purple mat, doing as many positions as I could. No pressure.

It's a start.

And I have to admit, with the last few weeks of stressful business transitions and endless election coverage, it was good to do something intentionally calming. I have found in stressful times extended prayer doesn't calm me. For me, truly "giving it over to god" often means just saying, "here". It is long drawn out prayer that actually makes me overwork a problem and so get more stressed out. Sure it is conversation with god, but prayer like that (for me)rarely involves listening. (Is there such a thing as a spiritual introvert?) When I find myself in a corporate prayer setting I am reminded that I am the one without the gift of intercession. In fact, once in a small group setting, after going around the circle, me being the last to pray, I offered the word, "ditto". Hey, god understood.

So, yoga is perfect. Because you spend so much time concentrating on your breathing, it puts you in a great zone for listening.

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About this Archive

This page is an archive of entries from November 2004 listed from newest to oldest.

October 2004 is the previous archive.

December 2004 is the next archive.

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