How to write a blog...

Many people wonder how to go about writing a blog.  How does one even start?

Like many things, it is a matter of sitting down and just doing it.

However, there are certain rituals that must be performed before the writing begins.  For those of you interested in the process, I thought I would share mine.

First of all, I like to start with a nap.  This allows me to think about a topic I want to write about while simultaneously not overthinking it, because most likely I will have fallen asleep within minutes.  Upon waking with a start, it is important to then get mad at oneself for wasting the afternoon on that nap when you know your imaginary fans are waiting to read your next episode.  I have always performed best under self-inflicted pressure, although I'm not sure if I've ever really done anything in a timely fashion.  So maybe the first half of that last statement is only accurate based on a lack of knowledge and experience.  I suspect I will never know.

I turn the computer on next, and while it is booting up there is always plenty of time to start a load of laundry and begin boiling a dozen eggs.  Since writing can also be very intense and fatiguing, I quickly prepare some sort of nourishment to keep my brain alert.  Usually protein.  This afternoon I had three spoonfuls of peanut butter and a bite of leftover grilled tuna.  The time is drawing close, where pen will finally meet paper.  I think I am ready.

Finally the computer is up and running, although now the first load of laundry is ready to go into the dryer.  I have no idea how that happened.  It seems like it's only been about three minutes since I turned the computer on.  Quite possibly I may have diverted to Facebook for awhile.  Who knows? 

Again, I am forced to stop absolutely everything that was just about to happen concerning my writing so I can put the clothes in the dryer and start another load.  And wouldn't you know it, the timer is going off on the boiled eggs.

Who has time to write?

I've fallen off the wagon...

It's fortunate that in declaring my intent to create a thirty day blog challenge for myself I conveniently left out the word "consecutive", right before the word "thirty". 

As it stands now, I am seven days into this program and already three days behind.  That is not good.

I have a list of excuses as to why I fell off the wagon so soon, but I will save those for another time when I may need them more.  Right now it may just appear that I am busy as opposed to unreliable, and I'd like to sign off from today's post before you find out that, in fact, it is both!

Happy Monday everyone!

 

The challenges of being a hot mess...

Hot mess.  I love that phrase and I only wish it had been around when I looked like what the real meaning is.

But today at the art show I am a hot mess according to my age 'fifty-something' definition.  Which is... totally damp, flat hair due to dripping high humidity and hot flashes.  Mascara stained cheeks because of trying to rub the pollen out of my eye for hours. Swollen ankles from sitting too much and alternatively standing on cement.  I can't take my sunglasses off because only one eye has any makeup on it and the other one is red and bloodshot. Over the course of a few hours I had rubbed my left eye so much I finally took my contact lens out for the fourth time and threw it in the bushes behind me.  The good news was at that point I couldn't really see how badly I looked.  I kept my sunglasses on all day though, as looking like a one-eyed freak is not good for business.

By 10:15 a.m. (the show opened at 10) I already needed to buy a new pair of shoes due to falling arches, plantar fasciitis and a broken bone still on the mend.

Is it too much to ask to have just one day of having everything look and feel good at the same time?  The only solution that seems to bridge that continuous gap for me is tequila.  It used to be a glass of wine, but these days being a 50 something hot mess is a job for tequila.  Don Julio and I have become quite good friends lately.  I anticipate a very long and loving relationship...

Short and sweet...

If it takes me as long today to write this blog as it did yesterday we're going to have to shut down casa | art | studio.

I'm trying to be patient with myself on this new project.  After all, yesterday was only day two I keep reminding myself, but six or seven unplanned interruptions at our studio along with a big technical glitch with Blogger had me using many words that I won't be able to use in my blog.  Pity, because they were so descriptive.

I had written the bulk of the blog between 9-9:30.  About seven hours later I was finally able to hit the 'Publish' button.  I'd have to say that's not a particularly good use of my time. 

Fortunately I was able to gather my wits about me, and perseverance helped me win the battle as I found a work around for the tech issue.  At that point I was reminded how good it feels to stick with something until you reach your goal.  It's quite easy to lose sight of that in the midst of the problem.

And of course I felt entitled to a reward afterward, so our evening plans of no drinking and healthy eating quickly turned into cocktails with steamed potstickers for an appetizer, sautéed wild caught shrimp served on a bed of Farro with caramelized shallots and mushrooms, a side of asparagus and a nice bottle of wine.  It's important to celebrate the wins, isn't it?

Suddenly I find myself looking forward to some technical issues today 😄

The Free $10,000 Cat

Ever since our first stray wandered into our lives and picked us to live with we've been smitten with cats, and in particular, black cats. 

Carver, King of the Manor  1993-2012

When Carver appeared on our doorstep back in Atlanta in 1993 it was the beginning of a twenty year love affair.  Handsome, distinguished and wearing a tuxedo 24/7; and with a yowl that harkened back to what we guessed were Siamese grandparents.  For years whenever we got on the phone he would howl for such long spells that people often thought we had a real baby in the house that was in serious distress.  We lost a lot of friends over time who wrote us off due to our insensitivity and lack of priorities - wondering why we never hung up the phone to tend to that dying child.  

One thing we quickly learned about free cats is that there is nothing free about them starting the following day that they move into your home.  Soon after Carver had selected us as his lifetime place of residence he came down with a urinary tract infection.  The cost of going to the vet at that time was negligible compared to the lifetime prescription of cat food we have had to special order for all of these years.  If one cat eats it, they all eat it.  We are still using that cat food almost 25 years and $10,000 later and regret not having bought stock in that particular company. 

Did I mention that along the way we acquired a few more strays?  We have never had a ‘catless gap’ of time since 1993 where we might have been able to start anew with another type of food.

In addition to the prescription food there have been dental cleanings, annual shots, countless toys that they hated, scratching posts that they turned their noses up at, and a host of cat nannies that we had to 1099 back when we traveled a lot overseas.   Yet all of that pales in comparison to the thyroidectomy and subsequent blood work that Carver ended up having in his middle-aged years.

The good news is that it’s all relative, right?  Cat number three, Fiona, has coincidentally ended up with thyroid disease also.  Because of her petiteness, surgery was not recommended, so after arranging for special financing at an exorbitant interest rate if we are five minutes late with just one of the payments, Fiona was all set for the radioisotope injection, to be administered by a group called Radiocat.

We hated lying to her, but if she knew what was about to happen we would never get her out from under the sofa.   So we told her she’s off to Radiocat Summer Camp.  She thinks it's a ‘Fun with Broadcasting’ summer program, but 1) it's not summer anymore and 2) it has nothing to do with broadcasting.  We’re hoping she doesn’t catch on to that little deception. 

Leading up to this procedure required numerous phone calls with Radiocat’s main office in Baltimore. Then blood work, a urinalysis, chest x-rays, and an ultrasound to get her ready.  Now you know why we had to lie about where she was going.  Prior to her procedure a ‘packing list’ of what to take to ‘camp’ was emailed to us.  She needed her food, plus treats, one or two of our dirty shirts that she could sleep on, and her favourite skunk toy.  And none of these would be returned to us because they would be radioactive after this procedure. 

After three days in isolation we got to pick her up and bring her home. The vet tech promised she would not glow in the dark, but she was in fact still radioactive and would be for two weeks as the isotope continued its retreat in daily half- life increments.  Actually I just made that part up in order to sound smart.

And of course we had to buy special flushable litter so that the radioactive waste didn’t go into the landfill.  Not surprisingly, this litter was $25 a bag compared to the normal $8 bucks we usually spend.

Did I mention that at one time she was free also? 

Steve and I often find ourselves pondering the evolution of our lives over these past 25 years and ask ourselves should we pursue our dream of moving abroad and painting and writing, or should we stick around Naples and continue rescuing cats?  Or should we go overseas and rescue cats, and paint and write?   The answer to this question changes on a daily basis, but one thing we know, there will always be cats.

Mascara at 80 MPH...

Several weeks ago Steve and I were up in the Tampa area, running late for an appointment, per usual.

We've never been extremely punctual people, but living in Florida for twenty years has destroyed any ability for us to arrive at a socially appropriate time.  I blame it on the Latin influence down here.  If we arrive an hour late at some party no one even notices, because they're not there yet either!  Sometimes the hostess is still in the shower getting ready.  These are now my people, and I am grateful everyday.

But, back to running late for our appointment.  We do our best to be timely for business meetings, but it can come at a personal cost to me because I often have to finish getting ready in the car.

As we flew up the interstate at eighty-plus miles per hour I had to find my personal rhythm while putting on mascara while Steve darted in and out of traffic, around cars that were obviously not aware of our agenda.  As I swayed back and forth, waiting for a few stable seconds to swipe one set of eyelashes, and then the other, it reminded me of being on a cruise ship in choppy seas.  Feet slightly apart, keep the upper torso loose, and do what you can to stabilize yourself so you don't fall face first into the breakfast buffet.

Within a minute or so I had found my groove and manged to get mascara onto upper and lower lashes, with only a little bit getting smeared onto one contact lens.  I thought to myself, "you know, this was almost more successful than my daily routine in the bathroom every morning!"

We exited off the interstate and I looked at myself in a little handheld mirror (we have a Jeep Wrangler...there are no makeup mirrors installed in this vehicle).  Success!  In fact, I had done such a great job putting on all of my make-up in the car that morning I turned to Steve and said, "Look at me!  I look great!  Don't you think this is the best I have looked in a long time?"

Steve swiveled his head to look at me and said, "I'm not really sure how to answer that question safely."

I gasped, because in that moment two people on bicycles pulled out in front of us to cross the road.  Steve swerved quickly to avoid running over them.

After catching our breath and regaining our composure Steve looked at me and said, "I cannot believe I almost hit those two people.  Can you imagine living with the consequences of that?"
 
He fell silent for another moment and I could tell he was still quite rattled.  Then he looked at me and said, "On the flip side, the consequences of answering your make-up question incorrectly is quite possibly something I would never survive.  So yes dear, you look amazing!"

 I really love him.  He is so darn cute, and knows me so well.

Creative Avoidance...

 I don't really ever have writer's block.

What I have is "writing" block, which means making the time to sit down and put it all together.  I have pages and pages of notes and anecdotes on my iPad, waiting to be set free into the ether, to be read by whomever sees the blog and pauses long enough to think "ya know, I really ought to take a few minutes to read about those cats again, and that husband who naps a lot and otherwise causes problems when he's awake".

So, I have created, and signed up for, my own self-imposed thirty day content challenge and will be writing and posting daily until April 15th.  My first goal is to learn how to avoid run-on sentences.

I will write about the cats (no surprise there), Steve, and maybe stick a toe in some political water. I plan to make you cry and hope to make you laugh.  Maybe I'll wax philosophical about something or other, and I'm guessing those moments will revolve around aging and how sometimes the alternative of being dead sounds like the better choice.

I will take you with me when I travel and exhibit at art shows and together we can "talk" about the crazy people that stop in our booth and the myriad of pets in strollers, dressed up in hats and aviator sunglasses, birds on people's shoulders, Sugar Gliders in our neighbouring artist's tent (her 'kids'), the python draped around someone's neck like a mink stole, the one person walking seven Maltese dogs at the same time causing the sea of humanity to part so the dogs can get through.  And on and on.  Just like that run-on sentence.

Creative avoidance? I ask myself why, when the setting is so nice.  I'm sitting in the kitchen, almost right next to the litter box (which is occupied I might add), my view is of the washer and dryer, and another cat is on the table next to me drinking out of the Buddha fountain which I had turned on to help create this inspiring ambiance.

Stick with me.  It can't get worse!