Went well.

Then I went back to staging, then jumped into a funny commission that has turned out to be enjoyable.

I like the variety.

I like painting or drawing with Netflix in the background (it’s good company)

I like helping people make decorating decisions. I like the part of my job that is like that show Home Edit. I like making everything look better.

I also like quiet time painting at home.

I like hopping on a freeway and dashing to whatever place I’m headed.

I enjoy this pace, I love the sunshine and flowers, I love getting up and seeing the ocean.

Coffee, a beautiful view, a full schedule. I think this must be the life!

In California it’s as though I’m a different person.

Today I was starting a design job. After about ten minutes of suggestions, my client looked at me and said wow, I love all these ideas! You’re amazing! Without thinking I just said:

Thanks, I’m freakishly good at this.

I’d just spent a handful of days staging another house which came out beautifully.

I have a different kind of confidence here. Art-show on Friday, a painting to finish and sign. Cards to get ready, emails written and sent etc, I’m feeling zero stress. As I get things ready, drive to my staging job, work long hours, I’m enjoying myself.

In Connecticut, I do art on the sly. It’s possible that my skill set doesn’t transfer.

I wonder how I can be a better me there. If it’s even possible…

When I was at the end of seventh grade, my family moved back to Canada. It was for me, the worst move yet. I went from being a thriving A student, swimming every day, friends with everyone, winning art awards, happy…

To

Ridicule. Daily contempt from my peers. Utter disconnect from teachers.

They jeered my clothes, my hair, the way I walked. They jeered every award I got, especially the academic ones. How was getting good grades so terrible? How was everyone smoking? I was a year behind at twelve. The maturity gap alone was a chasm. My response was to lay low, ditch my CA clothes, stop doing homework, and throw myself into a silent world of art. I barely spoke for two years.

Fortunately summer arrived right after our move. So did a friend from CA. Things didn’t improve really until tenth grade when I got the chance to go to a school that was a better fit. It wasn’t California, but I was able to find friends, do well in school, exist in peace.

I always knew California was my home. That part of Calgary definitely was not.

Luckily for me, G and I will be continuing to divide our time on both coasts, spending more time here. G’s mom is doing well. She’ll need help with the yard, but without having to worry about and be a nurse/maid to her ailing husband, she doesn’t need us as much.

Our work is here. Our life is here.

So luckily this has all played out perfectly.

For now, I’ll go back to work, doing things I love doing, (plus happen to be freakishly good at).

Okay, maybe not ‘never’, but rarely.

Some days, I may have wished for a little boredom, in hindsight, I’m glad for all the twists and turns.

I’m a little surprised that I’m still here on planet earth. I have no plan, no mission, no big needs. I used to. But it didn’t go at all like I thought I wanted it to.

In my young mind, I wanted a home that I stayed in forever. Yep, that was me, searching wanting, hoping for a forever home. I bought a couple and loved them, until a twist or a turn came along.

As a grown up kid who moved a lot, I wanted my kids to go to the same schools with the same friends all the way through. I did achieve that, but by the skin of my teeth. Then I learned that kids change, so their friends change even if they are surrounded by the same kids. Also I learned, within that model a million things can happen. I thought I was clear in my desire to lead a regular life, but apparently there was a different plan in place.

Which I don’t regret now. I followed the bread crumbs. I showed up, I worked, I made impossible things happen.

I’m still far from a regular life, only now, I secretly like it. I think I do anyway. I feel lucky every day.

My values continue to change and shift which I’m glad for. I can’t imagine still using a casserole dish I got for my wedding, or living with decor I chose in the 80s, or believing everything I did or doing the same things I did when I was 20 or 30. (or some slightly modified versions because I got to stay put) I’m completely thankful for all the choices I’ve had to make over the years. The crazy plot shifting changes have made all the difference.

Another good starting line might be: “No one has ever suggested that I was an old soul.” I like this one better, if God forbid, I write an autobiography…

There is a swan near our cottage back east. It hangs out in this one little cove that we pass by as we drive into the neighborhood.

Two Christmases ago he visited our dock. Strangest Christmas present ever. As I got closer, he swam closer. I thought he wanted to be fed so I ran up to the house for bread. When I got back, G said he had left. Then he saw me and turned around! Crazy, but true!

I have video of him swimming to me, getting so close I could almost touch him. He wasn’t interested in the bread. What a funny little miracle he was on that cold Christmas morning.

I still don’t know what our meeting was about. I’ll never forget the day though, and neither will G.

We then started seeing him all the time, but never near our dock again. Sometimes we take our boat to the cove to see if he’s there.

I wasn’t expecting to paint a single giant swan, anymore than I expected to see one swim up to me. He emerged little by little as I painted. They really are huge, elegant birds. There’s no telling why he thought he knew me that day. Or why I painted him, before we even met…

The theme for the March art walk in LaJolla is luck.

Luck because it’s St Patrick’s Day month.

Hmmm luck…

I’m feeling pretty lucky that I’ll have another chance to be part of things there. Lucky to be enjoying early Spring in San Diego. Lucky to be sitting here thinking about printing the names and sizes of my paintings and figuring out prices, typing away while gazing out through Palm trees at the ocean.

I actually used to feel kinda guilty for being lucky. I often would think of my luckiness, (happily), then talk to someone having a less lucky time, and feel bad. In fact, I stopped thinking of myself as lucky and just tried to be grateful, which is maybe the more mature thing to be.

This is a little funny to me because really, it was just the way I spun my own story. Some people tell a sad tale, (I could do that too) but why?

I learned somewhere along the way that casting myself in the victim role, didn’t really make me feel good, but the happy-go-lucky role could be a little fun. At least until I felt the angst of someone else. I didn’t do Facebook for years because I didn’t want anyone to feel jealous (of me). As if I had the power to make someone feel a certain way. Hand slap to my forehead. Oh right…

I would sometimes be the lucky underdog. People usually like an underdog, but again, why? Why spend any more time trying to buffer everyone’s feelings? It doesn’t work. Did I think I could be more likable if I did? That’s crazy. I might finally get that I have no control over how others feel.

I think, starting right now, I’m going to go back to calling myself lucky. Only minus the guilt. I’m going to trade out fortunate for feeling lucky. Why not? I’ll still be super appreciative and grateful for my luckiness. How could I not be?

Being lucky is fun. It’s fun for me and it’s fun for anyone caught up in it with me. Let’s be lucky together.

The art walk is coming up, luckily. And luckily I have plenty of time to get some things ready for it. I’ll be using my blog and my website to print out and copy from. Just a little heads up that you might be along, luckily, for a preview of the upcoming show themed around luck.

This is a folk story from the North western Canadian indigenous people that tells about darkness and light. They call it The Raven that Steals the Light. (but I think it was the old man)

All the light in the world has been hidden by an old man so there is only darkness. (Think of winter in the polar north). Then one day a raven decides to trick the old man into letting the light out. (he has hidden it in a box inside a box inside a box inside a box…) The raven has a whole long plan to get the man to set the light free. The reason the man has hidden the light is because he has a fear of seeing something he has never seen. What if his daughter is or isn’t beautiful?

I liked this story for all the metaphors. Who hasn’t tried to stay in the dark about a subject? Who hasn’t been afraid of something coming to light? At the same time light is so important and nessesary. Seeing the truth IS better in the long run. I love that the old man had to be tricked out of his denial by a savy raven and when he was, the whole world benifitted.

You probably guessed that this is a solstice story. One of those fables that explains why there is datkness during the long winter months in the north. A tell around the fire sort of tale about a fictional clever raven, an overly fearful man, his daughter and everyone human and animal forced to live in the darkness.

I painted this because I like the story. I like the solstice, I appreciate the sentiment of telling a story about fear of the light to take the fear out of the darkness.

After a stint of feeling like a fish out of water, I painted this to remember that I’m not really a fish at all. And sometimes that feeling of not fitting in, is just a passing feeling on the way to some different adventures. Maybe everyone feels a little out of sorts as they get used to newness.

Life force, (energy), is in spaces all around . It takes up space inside cells. Energy seeps from our pores, flashes from our eyes, hovers around our being. Our aliveness is felt. This painting is a reminder that what is invisible to our human eyes, is unmistakably there. The raven in the corner is from the story of when all the light in the world was hidden. Even without being able to see, energy can be felt and known.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved peace. Growing up, my parents probably fought more than they didn’t. When they weren’t yelling at each other they were yelling at us kids, if they weren’t yelling, then they were telling us to do stuff and we would, of course, do everything wrong. Contention. There was that. One of my favorite songs was Helen Reddy singing about how peaceful it is here. ‘No one bending over my shoulder…’

I have always have been, a true lover of peace. I look for it and enjoy it and appreciate it in all its forms.

This painting is about a peace-bringing dove making its nest on the world. I see a nest as a symbol of a nurturing home and because the dove is a symbol of peace, she is making herself a peaceful home in the world. From a peaceful home or a peaceful heart, peace can spiral out into the world. Not only do I love peace in my own life, but world peace and peace for everyone is my constant wish.

Peaceful World’ by John (Cougar) Mellencamp, if there was a song about it, I loved that song. Anyone else LOVE peace? My mother seemed to enjoy stirring up its opposite. We are all different.

I only used the middle of this for the painting explanation, but I think it’s interesting how a value becomes a value. I was probably born with this personality, but even at a very young age I knew my preference. Luckily I was able to spend most of my seventies childhood outside, much of it in the ultimate peace of nature.

This is a painting that shows how pliable and moldable a heart can be. Sometimes love has to stretch and expand and push into different shapes to fill a space. Sometimes we have to let our own hearts be squished around a little in order to orchestrate growth. I think this painting was for me to remember that my heart is not a rigid thing that stays the same, but instead a maluble, changing organ and energy center that stays healthy by adapting to its ever changing environment. Both energetically and physically, I feel like my heart has benefited from its own squishy nature.