Kick 2008 To The Curb...most of it

"An uneventful year" would not describe 2008. If I were to make a list of the pros and cons I'd need extra note paper for the cons. I know I'm not alone in this assessment. Everyone has been subject to a difficult time, what with the election, the economy, employment scares, etc. Personally, it's been a tumultuous time for me. Back trouble has been an issue for me and I don't deal with that well as it directly effects everything that I enjoy doing in life. My Mom has had one medical issue after another and December has been the worst for her and as we speak is is in the hospital once again. I hope this time will offer a better understanding of what is bothering her. I mentioned that my "cons" list for the year would be quite lengthy but I didn't say the "pros" list was nonexistent. To my delight and surprise an opportunity arose in September and I began working freelance for a wallpaper company. This company "recreates" historic wallpaper. The company uses water based inks and all the papers are screened by hand. The owners not only appreciate work done by hand with no digital assistance but prefer it and so I'm able to use my talents in a way that I never thought would be possible in this day and age. Everything about this job suits me. The owners are very special people and I look forward to as long a relationship as the work allows. It offers a bright beginning to 2009. Here's to new leadership and new opportunities!

Guess It's In The Blood

After 2 months of not writing you'd think I'd want to start back with something profound or poignant. Guess not. Instead, I'd like to make fun of my family genes. I've mentioned self-deprecating Toddisms in the past and today will be no exception but I just can't let one of my Mom's go by without a mention...sorry Mom but you shouldn't tell me these things! The pen is mightier than my word.
So, my Mom's finally feeling better with her back issues ( yeah, I inherited that as well ) and it's time to go to church after several weeks away. She's sure her absence has been noticed and she can't be thought of as anything but devout so she's anxious to get back to her normal routine. As she's approaching the church and beginning her ascent up the stairs she's oblivious to the fact that her slip is slipping...down, down until she's at the top and her feet won't let her continue because her slip is in a puddle around her feet. She's not alone as others are entering as well. How does one take care of this gracefully...with back issues to boot? She ever so gently but quickly bends down, grabs the slip and in one quick movement tries to pull it up without incident. Not so lucky. It's caught on her shoe. It's over. No point in subtlety now. She had to sit down and untangle it off of her heel, pull it back in place, dust herself off and with incredible dignity enter her house of worship. Bet she lit 2 candles!
Now for me. I've lived in my home for almost 13 years. Never in that time have I done this but last week I did it twice in one day. I walked into my screen door. I did it with such impact that I had a lovely grid impression on my forehead for a bit. It actually went with my checked pants so I didn't mind except for the headache. The screen now has a looseness where my head landed. A testament to my distractions. I'd been making cards in the patio which requires me to constantly go in and out of my studio. Lately the mosquitoes have been a problem so instead of me just leaving the door open I have to close it after me. Obviously I'm not used to that. So I finish my outdoor portion of my project and decide that a glass of wine sounded good. Back outside I go taking advantage of the shortcut to the bar. Heading back to my studio with my wine I'm feeling my forehead to see if I still have a grid texture there and I do it again - right into the screen door. It stops me cold with more force than last time ( guess I was looking forward to the wine ) but the wine was not following the same rules I had to. It freely entered my studio through the screen door and all over a stuffed chair. All over the screen door. All over my Y.M.L.A. ecru t-shirt ( my fave cause it's just the right shade ). No artwork was effected but my screen door looked like a lovely Rothko painting. Multi-task? I multi-damage.

Overheard in San Francisco

Ok, so I'm coming back from the gym on my lunch hour, rushing as usual. As I pass the Sir Francis Drake hotel I catch just a snippet of a conversation. I'm still processing this little blurb wondering what the overheard comment could possibly have meant. Have you ever had a moment like that where you just catch a piece of a conversation? Or maybe you're interacting and someone catches a piece of your thought that is enough to make them wonder what the hell you're talking about? Well, I guess other people have an intrusive personality like me. There's a website - www.overheardinnewyork.com just for those that find such things ( me! ) amusing. I wish they had a San Francisco version! Oh yeah; what I heard...I'm walking by and a woman in her sixties is hysterically chatting with one of the doormen who is also enjoying the exchange and what I hear is: "The one he slept with had teeth in it". Now, I want to hear scenarios!

I Wish We Were Friends

It seems that in this day and age we are more aware then ever of the daily goings on of celebrities and other note worthies. The Internet has had no small hand in this but the reason sites and blogs are successful ( just look at Perez Hilton! ) is this thirst that the American Public has for celebrity minutia. I'm just as guilty as anyone else and look forward to my daily updates but it's rare for me to wish I actually knew someone personally. You know that question that someone may occasionally ask..."So, if you could have dinner with anyone, who would you choose?". Names are tossed around and of course it depends who you ask ( it can be anywhere from Brittany to Ghandi ). Me? I'd LOVE to have dinner with David Sedaris. He truly amuses me. I am not one to laugh out loud when reading but I can count on it when I'm reading his books. I think we look at life similarly and definitely find the same things amusing. We're about the same age; both half Greek and both gay. I wish I had his articulation and his ability to convey thoughts with such a casual and understated flair. I think the funniest things in life are in the minor everyday occurrences and he's able to capture and preserve those moments that we all experience yet tend to escape us . His newest book, "When You are Engulfed In Flames" adds new material to his now long list of amusing perceptions. Go get it!

Sarah Jessica Parker or Bust

Just writing the title titillates me! ( I could make a joke about using the words "bust" and "titillates" in the first two minutes ). I knew this day would come. I have a big mouth and have always told anyone who'd listen that if they ever came out with a reality show that was art oriented I'd be so there. Well, the reality is that a reality show is being brewed as we speak. Sarah Jessica Parker has been pitching a reality show based on her love of the art world and the talents of upcoming artists. Bravo bit and the show is supposed to be filling in next year's slot that will be left vacant by Project Runway. It's to take place in New York, I believe. I do hope Sarah decides to host it as well. I believe Sarah to be the consummate lover of all that is creative...with a youthful urban edge. Now, I definitely have some concept of how many people will be interested. Therein lies my bravery. I've seen these shows. I know what they look for. I'm not a hot twenty-something without a care in the world. I'm not filled with angst...I'm actually not extreme in any way. I still have both my ears and there have been no crimes due to my unbridled passion for my art. I'm just a guy that has a true love of the creative process and will always need to express it. Having said that I have a side of me ( rarely shown ) that wants my talents to be exposed to the world. What makes me think I may have something entertaining to offer? You know what? I don't care any more. I've spent my life fearful of not measuring up. What's the worst that can happen? Oh yeah, well I do hope they don't just ignore me...that would suck. This has brought up some things for me to think about. I'm comfortable in my art genre. Is that a plus or a minus? Being in love with my primary medium ( watercolor ) I have not attempted to express myself in many other mediums. You can bet your Arches 140 lb. cold press that they will have you going from one challenging test to the next in any number of mediums. Can I withstand this? Will I be made a mockery of in front of millions? Well, I intend to pursue being considered and let the paint brushes fall where they may.

The Wendy's Girl Scares Me

Am I the only one that feels this way? I can't watch a Wendy's commercial anymore. There's something different about the Wendy's girl. Something evil. Perhaps she's really nice to everyone else in the world and she's just out to get me. She's not really animated. She's more of a cartoon but there's something in the eyes...in her gooey sweetness the eyes tell all. Oh, oh you'll love my hamburgers! ( you die ) I'm sooo wholesome and my food is healthy and nutritional! ( except for the rat poison-laced fries, artguy ) my salads are fresh and and my shakes are delicious! ( I'm consumed with the thought of your slow death ). Don't trust her! She's fooling all of you...just like Bozo the Clown.

Help With Sophie and Spencer

One of the things that I would say is a highlight of the past six weeks is how it's been with the dogs. Even though Mark and I understand that every animal is an individual with distinct personalities we chose a particular breed for certain characteristics. We were so in love with Oscar for those eight years we had him. Oscar wandered to our house one day and fit seamlessly into our household and lives with no effort on our part. We knew that was unique but we also thought that breed would have the tendencies that Oscar embodied. Spencer is getting there but Sophie...Sophie is such a handful. Oh my God , I have to know what she's doing EVERY moment. She spends her days waiting for that one opportunity to get into trouble. The inside of the house looks like a war zone as many areas are off limits to them. They have successfully proven that they can't have full run of the house. The potty training has been painful. Spencer gets it. With Sophie I think she uses it as a tool to punish us. A high maintenance girl, she is. Now she's mastering her barking skills. They notice every noise from behind the fence which is a parking lot for a church. Oh yes, Sundays are a joy. The dog next door gets fervent attention which is ironic since neither Sophie or Spencer wants anything to do with any dog when we're on our walks or at a dog park. Enter Alan Fong. Alan was suggested to us by a friend of mine. Alan has experience in training dogs. How much I don't know but he loves to do it and any help is welcome. Alan returned my call requesting his help. We were on the phone for more than an hour so Alan could assess our situation and make some immediate recommendations until we meet for our first appointment. Mark is out of town until the end of the month so we have an appointment for August 3rd. After hearing everything I had to say concerning habits, schedules and challenges Alan made his recommendations. One of his suggestions was to get a special liquid for the drinking water. "This will help calm nerves", he said. I asked him how many drops to put in their dog bowl. He then told me that it's meant FOR ME! He thinks their reacting to MY stress! Poor Sophie and Spencer. They've been exposed to me.

Forgetting to Remember

I don't know how to justify or explain it but it just is. Am I cyclical in my interests? Do interesting things happen to me cyclically? What explanation do I have for my absence? These are questions that arise when trying to understand why I haven't written in six weeks. I'd like to say that there are thousands anticipating my next pearl of wisdom, anecdote or Toddism. More likely I would say that with exception of a few that have noticed it's been a non issue. Well, I realize that I write primarily for myself. It feels good. It's fun. It's a tool to help me figure out stuff. It helps me remember. I'll try to write about a few things that might have transpired within "the lost weeks" worthy of note. For me time is like a sieve; most gets forgotten or deleted from my memory. It always amazes me the selective things ( often silly things ) I remember and who knows what I forget ( I would only know what these things are if I could remember them ). I don't think this is an age thing. I've been this way for as long as I can remember - well, that isn't saying much.

Birth Announcement

Well, it wasn't 9 months of labor but it was a strenuous several weeks. I am the proud papa of a healthy baby website! Yes, thank you. Cigars for everyone. I actually had company in the delivery room. I was not alone in experiencing the labor pains. They were shared by my good friend Michael. I was really the one pacing the floor while Michael went through hours and hours of effort . The little one was named well before the due date. I'd like to announce the arrival of Todd Lovett Studio and his new home is www.toddlovettstudio.com Come visit!

iTodd

As I'm writing this I'm doing something I swore I'd never do. Earphones are in place and the music on my ipod is on. This is something I've been vehement about. One of those pet peeves that you dare not share with people because the chances are slim you'd find someone else that feels the same way you do so you keep it to yourself. To me personal listening devises represented a withdrawl from society when we're already more disconnected from one another more than ever before. I'd want to ask a question or just say hello to someone at work and they couldn't hear me. Just wearing the earphones sends a message - "not so interested in what you have to say" and "I prefer my own choice of noise". OMG, I get it now. I used my ipod for the first time in public this morning. I do the casual carpool to work and I got into the car of someone I know but there was someone in the front seat that seemed to be entertaining the driver so I went ahead and tuned out. I vaguely heard "blah, blah - no shit! blah blah - that stupid driver - blah blah". I'm saved. A beautiful world of my own creation now exists for me and me alone. Let the world collapse around me - I don't care. Bobby Caldwell, Vanessa Williams, Sergio Mendez and Michael Buble' are talking to me right now. Whatever you need will have to wait. I'm assuming the guy with the sign is asking me for change. Oh well. I'll nod to the barristo at Starbucks. He knows my coffee drink by heart, anyway. Concerns about hearing traffic? I'm a pedestrian. I have the right of way. Chances are the drivers will respect that fact and not make me interrupt a song I previously rated 5 stars on itunes , therefore becoming ipodworthy.
Who's responsible for this 180 in attitude? Why, Liz is. Liz...one of my favorite coworkers. She's moving back home to pursue her teaching career ( thank God she's seen the light ). In an unprecedented act of thoughtfulness she gifted me with this little miracle the size of a pack of gum. She knew I'd recently discovered itunes and was enjoying putting all my music on it. She wanted me to know that she enjoyed working with me. It was truly a touching gesture and typical of Liz to be responsible in yet another way of showing this technologically challenged guy the way of the world. Liz, I will truly miss you and think of you every time I use it.

Who Really Needs Fixing?

Friday was D-day. De-sexing our dogs. It's the right thing to do. It's what's expected from a responsible dog owner. We knew going in that it was an eventuality. What we didn't know was how hard it would actually be when the time came. I had made the arrangements. I knew the time was fast approaching but I'd find a reason to put it off until I found Spencer "acting out" with Sophie. I jumped from the lounge chair and ran for the phone to call the vet and get the soonest appointment. I had been told that if you waited until after she went into heat that her chances for developing breast cancer significantly increase. It's so hard to imagine that the puppies that we just got a while ago could be able to enter that phase in their lives so quickly. The appointment I originally made was meant to be a time we'd both be available and I thought that the best day would be a Friday so we'd have the weekend to watch them. It turned out that I had to work and Mark was responsible for getting them there on his own. The day of the procedure we both questioned why we were even doing it. It seemed so cruel. Here they are, first thing in the morning, happy to see Mark and ready to play. Instead, Mark is gathering them up to take them for surgery. It feels a bit like playing God. It's not like they'll be roaming the streets. At 9:30 that night it was time to collect them. At the vet's I found out that there was a complication with Spencer. He had difficulty breathing on his back during the procedure which made it a bit more challenging but it went well for both of them. They'd been sleeping but were eerily quiet bringing them home which should have been expected considering what they'd been through and the sedatives they must have been on but it did remind me of bringing Oscar home on his final night. The tone of the evening was decidedly somber and we were seriously questioning our decision. I thought I would have a sleepless night but I actually fell right to sleep. It was a memorable sleep. I dreamt so vividly and my dreams had a common theme. Torture. I woke up wondering how my subconscious could even conjure up the images. In my first dream I slowly ripped apart a hummingbird. Limb by limb. It was still alive so I crushed it with a brick. Anyone that knows me knows I love every living thing. I've even had a pet spider living in the shower and I did everything to make sure the water stream never hit his web. I didn't name him ( in case he did end up down the drain ) but I couldn't bring him any intentional harm. So how could I have this dream? I had many others but the last one stayed with me when I woke up. I dreamt that I was in a German torture chamber and a Nazi had me secured to a table. There was a myriad of frightening accessories available for any procedure he deemed appropriate and the possibilities were overwhelming me. There was someone on the table next to me identically manacled. Was it Mark? The Nazi came over to me and in the classic manner we are all familiar with from the movies he very calmly told me that I was to be punished and the infraction was to be carved by knife into my torso. He asked if I preferred script. At that point a seven foot tall transvestite with a bozo wig, a few missing teeth and wildly placed lipstick ( the color of azaleas which I thought was an interesting contrast to the red hair ) suggested my accepting Tylenol. I asked whether I should take it before or after the procedure. He/she was emphatic that I consider taking it beforehand. Mercifully I woke up in time to avoid my unnecessary procedure and my first thought was that Sophie and Spencer weren't as fortunate.

Cesar Millan Needs to Pay a Visit

The challenge of training two puppies is an enormous one. We knew that going in but we didn't know what the issues would be. We couldn't ask for cuter, more lovable and loving dogs but they definitely come with their share of issues ( or are we creating those issues? ). From day one it was evident that these dogs are like night and day. Perhaps that should have been their names considering their colorings. Sophie is gregarious and initially started by being the alpha dog. That seems to be in question now because as we get to know them we see that Spencer has a sneaky side that loves to taunt Sophie and get her riled up. The most immediate training issue when we brought them home was potty training. It was evident that they had a more casual environment at the ranch where they were born. We needed to set ground rules from the get-go and so we focused on creating a schedule that they could count on. We got them to head towards a we-we pad inside at first and then we brought it out to the back yard so they would transfer their target outdoors. Spencer pretty much got it right away. We would be outside for hours with them waiting for Sophie to follow Spencer's lead to no avail. Finally we'd head back in and within five minutes Sophie would have gone. You can't say she's not been well trained. It would be a bull's eye if we painted a target on the we-we pad. In a disciplined manner she would wait ( and still does ) to go until she was inside thinking that's what she's supposed to do. What else can we do? I'm about ready to demonstrate myself that the back yard is the goal. Another issue is their sudden decision not to go for any sort of walk. It started out OK. We'd put on their harnesses which they didn't like but they tolerated it and they tentatively would walk around the block. We knew things would be new and there would be apprehension but one day Sophie dug in her heels and refused to go further than our front lawn. Eventually Spencer shadowed her behavior and now it's like pulling teeth to get them down the street. Once we reach the corner they know they're halfway home and they bolt. As small as they are it's a challenge not to get your arm pulled out of it's socket holding on to their leashes. Perhaps I should be grateful that they at least know where home is! We've now stopped trying. We know that's not good; it's not going to get any better that way but it's so laborious and seemingly ineffectual. The result is two wound up pups in the early evening when you'd like to wind down and relax a bit, perhaps watching a little television. I'm reading "Cesar's Way" now by Cesar Millan. According to Cesar all will be cured with the calm/assertive attitude I need to develop. Well, if I was working with a dog I didn't have to live with I'd be able to be calm/assertive. Instead I become a stress mess and as Cesar reminds me, my " energy" is quite detectable. We're being used. We're being manipulated. We have been trained to do their bidding ( those treats they love so much give me 30 seconds to think ). It's really us that needs obedience school. At least I wouldn't complain about wearing a harness.

Starr Lores

I just blogged a day or two ago about an experience I had going through an old trunk at my Mom's. There were many things that I found that I neglected to acknowledge although I did mention finding old art of mine that reminded me of my level of creativity so many years ago. Specifically there was a framed piece of mine in that trunk that wasn't a painting but a large photograph. It was an assignment I had while attending San Jose State. The assignment dealt with self promotion. During that period of attending the university I befriended an art student. He was a year or two older than me and I was attracted to his talent, gregariousness but mostly an incredible confidence of which I was sorely lacking. He was also my first gay friend and being older than me and very popular I was introduced to a new world that I'd already accepted but knew so little about. David Starr was his name and he was willing to help me with this project. The photograph ( David choreographed and photographed it ) is of me laying on the diving board of a pool reading a magazine that was open to a page that had an ad in it. The ad was of me holding a magazine that had an ad of me holding a magazine that had an ad of me...you get the picture. It was called "Avancement De Soi"; self promotion in French. I loved David's flair for the dramatic and although I don't remember for certain I can't help but believe that he had some influence on the title. Finding this piece was a revelation; one of those missing things in your life that from time to time you ponder as to it's whereabouts. It was a mystery solved but what I didn't expect was all the memories finding it conjured. David would take me "out" for a drink and though I'd been to a few gay bars prior to David, I was a wallflower fearful of getting noticed or approached yet I wanted to observe and know more. Going with David threw me into the center of things and there was no hiding place when in his entourage. He would walk up to the best looking guy in the place and say the boldest things. I remember one time he walked up to a great looking guy that most would think unapproachable and say" I bet those clothes would look great rolled up and tossed in the corner". I would have a sense of awe, embarrassment and admiration at the nerve. David actually spent a lot of time that evening with that guy. At the time I lived in Santa Clara and after finishing school I moved to San Francisco . As things always do, our relationship changed and though David moved to the city as well and I would see him occasionally we didn't have the relationship that we did in school. The confidence that David had manifested itself into his career interests and though I wanted to emulate that I knew it would be a battle for me and a natural evolution for David. I was right. He did great things as a stylist and his clients were the socialites of San Francisco and beyond. I remember him naming things in his cosmetic line like "Drop Dead Red" for a lipstick and he would name things after his clients. One day when I was walking in Union Square I saw David on the corner. He had his two dogs with him and he was looking up to a billboard with a satisfied smile on his face. The billboard was of him ( I'm talking about a huge billboard that faces Union Square! ) and I knew at that moment that he knew he'd made it. I didn't approach him. I wanted that moment to be his. I know I would want to drink it all in if it was me. I really wish I had approached him, though. I thought about it later and regretted it for years. It had been a while since I'd seen David and I asked someone about him when I saw that his Bush Street salon was no longer there. The person I asked told me that he believed that he'd died of AIDS. I was so upset because I would never have the opportunity to tell David what he meant to me, what influence he had on me in those early years. I would think about him on occasion after that - a fleeting thought or memory would come to me. The other day I shared the find of the photograph with my friend David Urban from San Diego and told him for the first time about David Starr. I received an e-mail from David later telling me that on a whim he googled David Starr and he thought I should do the same. I immediately did and found shockingly that the story I'd heard years ago was false! David had moved to Rancho Mirage, had a partner and a thriving career. Unfortunately I also found out he'd had a massive heart attack of which he did not survive. Wow. All the years I would spend time in the Palm Springs area. I bet I walked by his shop a dozen times. I even had a gallery showing in Palm Springs and I would have loved for him to attend. I could have had my opportunity I'd regretted missing those years ago and didn't know it. David, writing this and putting it out in the universe is the best I can do. Can you feel it?

Where Did That Guy Go and Can He Come Back?

Over a week ago I spent the day with my Mom in Sacramento. I recently promised that I would absolutely save a day a month that would be just for her and unless a natural disaster occurred I would honor that day. It has made an enormous difference in how we now relate to one another on a daily basis because she now can count on when my next visit will be. That has alleviated so much pressure and I'm actually able to enjoy the day and even look forward to it. Having a specific time to expect me allows my Mom to prioritize the projects that she would like to see completed. The major one on the list was the garage. I showed up a bit late so we jumped right into it when I arrived. I'd already made a bit of headway the last time I was there but there was still a lot to do. Mom has been in an eliminating mood and it's forced her to look at a lot of mementos and weigh their value. She recently found a collection of letters that belonged to my Grandmother that she had never before gone through and there was correspondence in there from the 1920's and earlier. We started making a "donation" pile, a "garbage" pile and a "to save" pile. I was glad to see Mom wasn't shy about the garbage pile and I actually had to have her think about saving a few things she was ready to let go of. A few things I, myself couldn't part with ( and now I'm mad I let myself bring them home because I'm trying to eliminate as well ). How in God's name did I feel sentimental about a percolator ( yes, before coffee makers were around ) that I remember as a kid? We were on a good pace, making great headway. Looming ahead was the infamous trunk. As a kid, I always wondered what was in it. It's so ancient and heavy in appearance. When I'd asked the answer was always " in there? Oh, just this and that". There were trunks on top of that trunk that we had to go through first and I personally felt the contents were not at all trunkworthy. Perhaps my anticipation of "the trunk" was skewing my judgement. With the trunk finally accessible I started opening it. Mom said, "honey, why don't you wait until I'm not around anymore to go through that". I told her that I wanted to go through it while she was around so that I could get answers to any questions that may arise. With that we continued. The first thing I got to see was my Mom's wedding dress which was beautiful. There wasn't any particular mystery but there were some wonderful pictures. Under all that was a shock. All sorts of artwork that I had done in high school and my early years of college. There were two scetchbooks filled with my ideas for paintings and such and I was so shocked to see how current and usable the ideas were! I was also so surprised to see that there was a strong tendency toward textile design that early on. I had never considered that as an option to pursue in school ( didn't really ever think about it ) and now I realize how different my life would have been if I had considered that as an option so many years ago. All this was amazing yet it also made me quite sad. The designwork was fearless and bold. I suddenly was aware that as I got older I was influenced by so many things that altered the direction of my work. When did it change? When did my work lose that edge? Don't get me wrong. I'm very proud of my lifetime body of work but there was a point when I took into consideration what would be "marketable". "I'd better paint things people would understand and want to hang in their home". I think that was a mistake. I want that naive, unafraid kid that was willing to" go where no man's gone before" back. I want to continue where I left off...except better. The one thing that's great about this discovery is that I now have the ability to take those raw ideas and realize them with the skill I've developed all these years. It was destiny to go through that trunk at this point in my life and find the old me because lately I've been searching...searching for my work to MEAN something. What could mean more than to finish a sentence - a thought - a concept from a lifetime ago?
What a wonderful day that turned out to be. I'm so grateful I didn't let my Mom talk me into waiting until "later" to go through the trunk. We sat on the garage floor for hours and I got to share in the many memories that the trunk items sparked. We had a lot of laughs and tears and I will forever hold that day close to me. I love you, Mom.

Organizing My Thoughts On Organization

I had a recent epiphany that I must share with all of you! It occurred to me that an organized person isn't necessarily defined by whether he has achieved it but rather by whether he is bothered by disorganization or not. There is a difference! You see, I truly believe that I am an organized person. You may not be aware of that considering it hasn't been applied to every part of my life and environment. The difference is that I think about it all the time and the areas that have yet benefited disturb me. I actually fantasize about it...the perfect scenario or the ideal problem solver. There are factors that inhibit the ideal solution such as space and expense. Both are issues for me. I have one space that is a success. It is a small closet in my bedroom. My home was built in the 50's so closet space is at a minimum and there are several closets throughout that house my clothing but this one closet...I'll just stop to look at it and sigh. It is truly a work of art. It houses my shoes and pants and some shirts. One section has cubicles for my shoes; one shoe per cubicle. The shoes all face in the same direction with all heels out. They will always have a place to come home to. You couldn't mess this closet up if you tried! All the pants are hung by shade - light to dark, the shoes, casual to dressy. I have my short sleeved shirts in this closet and above ( by color ) I have the less worn t-shirts neatly folded. I recently had company that saw this closet and they haven't stopped talking about it. I burst with pride listening to them express their admiration to others. It's an awesome achievement by any measure and I'm their hero. I don't take this responsibility lightly. I now have to apply it throughout so it's known that it was no accident. I have heroes of my own; two, in fact. First, my sister. She lives my organizational dream. I idolize that about her. It is no passing phase with her. It is her lifestyle. I'm trying to make you proud. Second is my friend, David. I have been recently privy to his tales of organizing his garage for storage. No written word has given me goosebumps the way his e-mail did when he described his plan of action. I salute you, David. How could you be anything less than my best friend? A thought about not maintaining that organization; it's like having a beautiful flower in a vase and not adding water when it gets low; watching the blossom slowly wither from lack of attention and care. I hope you all can benefit from my enlightenment ( lol ). Happy blossoms to all!

Smitten

Ok, I won't dwell. The puppies are home! Sophie and Spencer are a reality and exceed the joy we thought they'd bring. Every day is a new discovery...a new opportunity to deepen the bond. Lovin'them!

Always the Bridesmaid...

Yesterday Liz ( a girl I work with in my office ) approached me about considering writing a letter of recommendation for a school she is pursuing. Of course I was more than happy to oblige and flattered she would ask. She is bright, personable and motivated to make improvements in her career and has much potential. I wish her all the best. I have probably done the same for dozens of others as well. I have known so many that have gone on to pursue and attain their goals. Occasionally I'll bump into someone that I used to work with and the first thing they'll ask is "are you STILL there?... but you're SO talented". Will it ever be my time? I have worked in retail for most of my life. I have never considered it a career...ever. It has always been a vehicle; a means of taking care of my responsibilities so that I can pursue my dream. I have had countless opportunities for advancement that I have bypassed so my focus remains on my art. I'm certain that I'm perceived as one with little ambition. That couldn't be further from the truth. It is because of my ambition that I have never gone with the comfortable - the natural transition within my day job occupation. It never bothered me before. I knew what I was to become and there were better things on the horizon which I was working toward. I'm older now. I do my job well but it's simplistic and lacks challenge. It's ideal for one that is either working toward something else or lacks the drive to achieve better. It now embarrasses me. There was a time when my particular position was new to the company and I was able to create a dramatic increase in profits for them. They reflected this in my salary and bonuses and I became financially comfortable. The fire for my art was never extinguished but it was put on simmer. I'm grateful for that period of time. I wouldn't have been able to purchase my home without it; or so I thought at the time. Since then there have been many changes. My position is still necessary but no longer brings in revenue for the store and my compensation reflects that. With all the people that have come and gone I have never heard a tale of regret for having moved on. Ok, I've taken a dip in the pool of self-pity... now - time to dry off and focus on tossing the bouquet, not catching it! ( that's a metaphor, guys ) . Liz, don't forget to write.

I Think,Therefore I Worry

I think, therefore I worry - a phrase I recently saw on a T-shirt. It made me laugh because I thought it was so appropriate for me. Too bad I wouldn't be caught dead in a shirt with a phrase on it. This has been a period of time when that phrase has been particularly applicable. In my last blog I mentioned my wishes for us to be able to bring home a puppy, possibly two. It, in fact, is happening! I couldn't be happier that Mark feels the same way. The anticipation has been tremendous and so has the pressure of dealing with an online resource. Aileen, the breeder that we are purchasing the dogs from hasn't been anything less than wonderful yet you can't help but think of those poor folks that are on 20/20 that got suckered out of their life savings due to Internet scams. I was in the process of finalizing all the details on the phone with the breeder. Hanging up the phone, I was filled with excitement over being a step closer to having this be a reality. I noticed Mark was on the other line and he'd been waiting for me to complete my call. He handed me his phone with Margaret, his sister from North Carolina waiting to talk to me. I knew Mark had told his Mom about the pups and Margaret knowing was no surprise so I thought it was nice for her to call to congratulate us. That wasn't quite the reason for the call. When I got on the line she asked me what kind of research I'd done. "Don't you know there are scams out there"! "People create fake businesses - you'll be sending a very large sum of money to a stranger and may never see those dogs"! It was like someone dropped a bucket of ice on my head. I went from elation to a sort of depressed trepidation in 30 seconds. With both of us on our computers we searched for ways to try to find out if this would be a legitimate transaction. I could see in Mark's face that this was a rude awakening as well and that there was every possibility that instead of dealing with it he would back out. I wanted to cry but I knew that despite the way this information was introduced to me that Margaret was valid and there were things I hadn't done yet to make certain we wouldn't be taken advantage of . There just is no 100% guarantee when dealing over the Internet but I did find out that the AKC shows several registrations of litters from Aileen including ours. That was huge for me in feeling better but I still approached a contact in the English Toy Spaniel Club of America who, after a few conversations, went to the website where our dogs are pictured and confirmed that the puppies that we are interested in are indeed purebreds. Whew! They're not here yet and until they are I will definitely have much to worry about as it seems to be my nature. I worry about my luggage getting lost on a flight that requires a plane change, no less puppies being delivered! I look forward to being able to post their arrival very soon!

A Family Addition on the Horizon?

Sleeping was doubtful for last night but I managed to be able to. It's amazing how one's life can change in 24 hours. It hasn't yet but just having the potential...that's where I stand right now. There is the potential for a major change in our household. An addition; actually a doubling in size! I don't know what got in me yesterday. Going through the holidays without Oscar, our beloved English toy spaniel, was difficult. He's been so integrated into our lives, even now. His image is on ornaments, my screensaver and photographs throughout the house. The only word our bird Gaucho ever picked up was "Oscar" and he uses it daily to get our attention. I'll walk in the door and the first thing I hear is "Oscar baby"! In a weak moment while on the computer I made the critical error ( or the most fortunate one depending on how this turns out ) of going to Youtube to surf the videos. Of course I noticed a dog related one that I had to watch which led to the next one and the next and eventually I typed in "King Charles" and the waterworks started. As corny as some of them can be I was vulnerable to having my heartstrings tugged. After having Oscar for over 8 years and then having him pass away last year there has been an enormous void. He was responsible for making us a family and I've also missed being a dogowner; having that common bond with strangers that understand the love that a dog is capable of introducing into one's life. Mark came in to the room while I was at my worst. He misses Oscar as much as I do yet has managed to be the logical one. All the time that we had Oscar he had been feeling guilty leaving him alone at home while we both went to work. I never knew this and, honestly, I believe Oscar never minded. He was never one to be terribly interactive with other dogs and I think he liked having both of us to himself. Anyway, Mark walks over to the computer to see what has got me going and ends up sitting and watching with me. After exhausting the videos I googled English Toy Spaniel and found a website where I lost my heart. On the first page this face...staring at me. It must have been what Oscar looked like as a pup. We never got to know Oscar that young. Oscar wandered up to the back of our house one spring day. Mark happened to be working in the yard and saw this dog aimlessly sniffing this and that; obviously very tired and most likely very hungry. He was matted, dirty with no identification. I'd wandered to the back yard to find Mark and he was behind the fence talking to someone. When that someone turned around to look at me I lost it. Instant love. At the same time we felt a responsibility to find his owners. How could someone not be missing him? We posted signs, contacted shelters and put a notice in the newspaper. At first, Mark created a bed for him on the patio. Mark said if he wanted to go we would let him but if he stayed and we couldn't find his home he could stay. He stayed and he integrated into the household so seamlessly it was shocking. Perfectly behaved, housebroken and mindful. There was little training necessary. He brought incredible joy that we enjoyed for over 8 years. Unfortunately Oscar's passing was so difficult that Mark questioned whether he could ever go through that experience again. I'd bring up the possibility on occasion only to receive a negative response and it seemed as though it would never happen again. Yesterday morning seemed different. Here was this face looking out at the both of us. How old is the website? When was it updated last? Is this dog still available? Where is she? It turns out the breeder is in Tennessee. There's really no possibility of visiting to meet her. Mark agreed that I should write to the breeder to inquire as to availability and we e-mailed back and forth, having questions answered. She IS available. She COULD be ours. She COULD be sent to us. She's very petite but very healthy. In one of the e-mails she mentions that she has a few older dogs ( still puppies ) available as well. One of them is a boy, currently 11 pounds - red and white and a face...oh! Could we possibly consider them both? This breed is very expensive so it's a weighty decision. If it were up to me; well, it's not just me. It's torture seeing what I can envision as my future family on the screen waiting for a home. I have no idea as to this story's outcome at this point. As the weekend unfolds I'm sure I'll learn. Whatever's meant to be will be but I pray that this will happen.

Putting Away Ornaments is an Art Form

It's here. The time to remove Christmas from the house. For many reasons January is my least favorite month. Putting away Christmas is way up at the top of the list. It takes forever to get Christmas up in the first place. Mark has many facets to his business and one of them is decorating his client's homes for the holidays. In the past I knew to get him early; right after Thanksgiving, before he started on any of his client's homes. That's not possible any more. He has more than one client that loves having their home decorated and now he starts right after Halloween! That's too early for us. This year we got our tree mid-December but had to wait a week for Mark to be able to put up the lights. I can take it from there ( after decorating so many trees that's the last thing Mark wants to do at home ) but the tree wasn't finished until a few days before Christmas. Now the new year is here and we have projects we'd like to focus on and having the house decorated for the holidays seems to temper our enthusiasm. So, the ritual begins. Understand that we have been together for more than 27 years. That's 27 seasons of collecting ornaments. We have amassed an incredible amount and EVERY piece has meaning or a memory attached to it. We can't simply pack them away. No! They all have their individual boxes. These boxes are labeled with who's ornament it is; where it was purchased, the year it was purchased or if it was a gift, and from whom. Many of them are from particular designers and if they put out a catalog I have photocopied a picture of the ornament to help identify it and taped it in the box lid. I have also saved any original price ticket. There must be about 25 large plastic containers that we keep stored in the attic. I have tried my best to have as accurate a description of the ornament in it's lid for easy identification and it is very interesting how our descriptions vary between the two of us. This has caused duplicate boxes to be created when an ornament has been presumed missing and now, every year it is a major source of irritation. I think I'm being so clever when I write " elf head with blue eyes and green beret". Who knew we have three ornaments that fit that description? I try to describe them so that there's no mistaking them such as "heinous baby" and "antique testicle balls". This has worked well. Yes, they really look like testicles and "heinous baby" is butt ugly. I created what I call the"quandary chair". It's a location where I can put boxes that have yet to be mated with it's proper ornament. Our living room currently looks like the tornado scene from this season's "Desperate Housewives". Surprisingly, it has it's order and I think we're doing better this year than in the past. Now, to improve things further. Doesn't it make sense to have access to the larger ornaments first? It's frustrating to have alot of the tree decorated and then run into a carton of larger ornaments so I decided I need to organize the ornaments by size. S,M,L. Each ornament container is now marked according to the size of the ornament. I bought myself a present this year - containers that hold about 20 balls and have indentations for each individual ball. It's like art! Actually, putting away ornaments is an art form. Anyway, you can see through the lid and see every ornament without even opening it up! Each ornament lays there, unable to roll about or have to be wrapped in tissue. It warms my heart to see such organization. My little ornament family, each in it's cozy little bed. I have plans for next year. This will be the ultimate organizational improvement. I'm going to attach a number to each ornament and write that number in the lid of it's box. We can then lay all the ornaments around the room after we've taken them off the tree. Mark can call the number off the lid and since I will have placed the ornaments in numerical order I can go right to it! What do you think?