Saturday, August 26, 2006

How You can Tell when you're being tuned out:

When you're in the middle of a sentecne about something important and your sweetie walks out of the room and doesn't even notice you were trying to tell him something.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Aieee, more delays!!!

Yesterday while making meatloaf, I was thinking absentmindedly that there was less molasses than I remembered in the bottle.  Today, because it's garbage day, I was going to throw out some old food, ramen noddles and ramen soup and dried tofu etc, and was loading them into a trash bag when I discovered that the molasses had somehow leaked all over the inside f the turnaround cupboard!  What a mess to clean.  I have it mostly cleaned now, but it is time to dress and leave for my opening so I won't quite finish ad needless to say, did not get to the rest of the things on my to-do list!  Aieeeee!!! Well. I'm off to the opening, I hope!!!  Nothing like Murphy working hard to keep e really humble!!!

the people across the street are moving today

The people across the street are moving today.  They have moved IN and OUT in the time I've been trying to get moved.


21 boxes acked and ready to go to detroit Posted by Picasa

Sunday, August 13, 2006

Marking my days, #2

I just hauled out a second bag of garbage and a bag of recycling.  I'm trying to get as much done as possible before I leave for Detroit.  Erin and Mark have left for Dinner.  They got a lot chipped.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Themes for September, Octeber and November


  • 4  Seasonal, late summer, first signs of fall (+family)
  • 11  Sunflowers
  • 18 Harvest
  • 25 Black and white, high, low and medium contrast.


  • 2  Seasonal, fall (+family)
  • 9  Sky
  • 16  Val Choose (did we decide this?)
  • 23  Playing in PS:  Layers, layer blending.  For a "straight photo" alternative, cut and paste collaging with real scissors (Tutorials provided upon request)
  • 30 Family, Holiday, All Saints, Halloween, best of the month, special


  • 6 Season Fall, early winter (+family)
  • 13 Food (Kate)
  • 20 Antique
  • 27 Patterns and repetition, interrupted patterns and repetition ("echo" effect)

I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats

Another day without my Husband

060811 Art Delivery
Friday, August 11, 2006,12:50 PM Psion, Kimbrook
    I am just back from delivering my 2 pieces of art and my two pieces of photography to the art and home center at the State Fair.  What a bunch of mixed feelings!  Relief to finally be done with the preparation, sort of like delivering a baby.  Relief.  But then I looked around at the competition and knew I have a very tough battle.  WOW!! There was some incredibly astoundingly good art there.  Very discouraging.  Then, there was also some that wasn't so good. I'd say mine was in the middle somewhere.  Maybe even 2/3 of the way up.  But NOT at the top.  I think they could be at the top.  That is, with some changes.  One is, they need to be bigger.  I wonder if after designing them on the computer, I could then Paint them--large. I don't know if I could do that.  Also, I have to learn art categories.  I'm not sure I entered them in the right categories.
    The photos were piled in categories, so I could only see the top ones. But the art was arranged in the rooms by categories, so I could look at all the ones that were there.  There's still another delivery day and piles of unpacked art, so I only saw a fraction of the entries.  But I did see a LOT, and was glad to see them.
    I watched other people coming in and they just dropped off their stuff. They asked no questions and did not look around.  I'm glad I'm me. Curious and interested.  I want to learn as much as I can.
    First I collect and put away the hardware, wire, mat knife, tape and other supplies for matting and framing pictures, hope I got everything.  Hope I don't need any of it again until after I get moved.
    The next thing on the agenda is to mow the lawn, but first I have to change my clothes and braid my hair.
    And put on boots.
    12:19 PM  I am dressed, booted and braided, but I have to get gas before I can mow.
    First I search again for that blue jay skull, but can't find any trace of it.  :-(
    1:47 PM I got gas, and then had to shuffle boxes around in the garage in order to get the mower out because the chute of the chipper was blocking it in.  Gassed the mower and after I get on gloves and earplugs, I'll be ready to attempt to start the mower.  Finally.
    None of this is moving the cleaning and packing and moving forward in anyway.  :-(
    I intend to simply mow around any brush and woodpiles etc.  I am not taking the time to move those.
    2:01 PM  well, the lawnmower is stalled because I tried to mow too close to one of the brush piles, the big one on the sextant dr side, and it sucked up a bunch of grape vines that tangled around and around the drive wheels etc so now I have to get the loppers and nip them all off, Grrrrr!
    The lawn mower did NOT start on the first or second or third pull, took about twenty and I was getting tired.  Hope it starts after this.
    2:07 PM, took 6 minutes to disentangle it and some of my newly purchased expensive gas leaked into the lawn.  There's a garage sale across the street so hoards of people are watching my struggle.
    Puff, pant wheeze.  And, of course, now I cannot get the mower going again.  ;-(  I'm out of breath and have to attempt to catch it before I try again.  WAHN!
    2:41 PM  I mowedfor30minutes, probably the worse mowing job I've ever done.  Normally, I start at the edge of the road and work up toward the house going back and forth in neat straight parallel lines, so I can tell where I've been, but between the brush piles on logs and branches and trampling from the brush cutting, I couldn't really tell where I'd mowed and where I hadn't, plus the light was all weirdly dappled which added to the difficulty of seeing what remained to be mowed.  So, it's mowed along the edges, but the rest of it is rather haphazard.
    I need to remember to remind Erin about the lawn police so she does not get a citation.
    Since I only mowed for a half hour, I am now out walking to get the other15minutes, though it does seem tome that the time I spent attempting to start the mower, which is hard work for me, might count for something.
    No one is at the Kimbrook Park, not one person or dog.  It is still and silent.  The children must all be in watching TV or playing video games.  Or at the malls.
    When I finish my walk, I am going to change back into nicer clothes and go to the bank to attempt to deal with some of my mother's financial issues.  Since I have to go there anyway, I am going to take a load of stuff to the Salvation Army to clear it out and make more space for staging boxes to Detroit.  It's not enumerated, so I will have to do that there.  I wonder what time the bank closes.  If it is too early, I will have to postpone all that until Monday.
    I need to begin planning for a trip to Detroit, picking up trip food, making arrangements for mowing, etc etc, all of which takes time.
    I have not been on-line or turned on Toby at all today, because there are always upsetting messages that need to be dealt with and that all takes time.  But at some point before the day is over, I will need to do that.
    There is a small hawk circling the sky.  It does not have curved wings.  It flies fast.  It is smaller than a red tail and larger than a kestrel.  But it has moved away out of sight, so I cannot tell what it is, and my bird books are all in Detroit.
    Oh-oh, it is 46 total minutes (mowing and walking) and I'm not back yet.  I have so much to-do that I did not want walk any extra, but it is so hard to calculate exactly how to make the time come out perfect when you're not walking out and back and even when you are, there are complicating factors like hills etc.
    Forty-nine minutes I walked and mowed. I guess four extra minutes are not all that bad.
    I need to remember to talk to the girls about picking up the reject pictures, assuming there are any, ha ha.  Maybe, though Erin said she'd get them, maybe, if Sara is still unemployed, she could get them.  Erin encouraged me to enter, but I guess she doesn't like the pictures I picked. Wish I'd have entered the Detroit Ren Center one.
    I was really impressed by the work of the other artists.  Sigh.
    There are people who paint or do other traditional arts who don't think digital art is real art.  But then, there are painters who don't think collages are real art or even that photos are art. I must say, there is something particularly artistic about paintings.
    4:00 PM  I am at the bank. I have drive home and drive BACK down with the power of attorney forms.  WAHN!  :-(
    My feet are floating around in my sandals, making me aware that during that time I was having worse fibro and bad sleeping etc, my feet were also badly swollen.
    4:40 PM  I am home and I am really sad and depressed. I need to locate the power of attorney form and drive back to the bank. It was stupid of me to not bring it, I admit, but I thought I was just going down to change MY name and didn't realize I had to also sign for my mother, grrr. The reason I am so depressed it this~ the whole entire day will soon be gone and I've done almost nothing toward mowing, but what was I supposed to not do? I haven't been playing or having fun or eating bon bons, I've busy doing stuff that needed to be done. :-(
    And then all my $%&*£$% supposed friends and family keep asking why it is taking so \@<>[]\ long.  Obviously, they live charmed lives and my life is blessed by Murphy or something.
    It makes me DISLIKE my friends etc when they ask that question.
    I want to no longer be friends with someone.  Maybe they should come with me while I go through my day. Talk to the bank lady.  Mow the lawn, get gas for the mower, get bank numbers for the trust, write checks for the trust etc--that's what I have to do when THIS is done.
    The bank lady told me in no uncertain terms I should carry the power of attorney--CARRY it? Bring it today, yes, but carry it?  I don't think so; I haven't needed it in 9months.
    I stopped at the Salvation Army and enumerated and left 6 yes SIX big bags of clothes, more stuff out of the house.  Thank God.
    5:14 PM  I am sitting in the lady's office, but the lady isn't here.  I ASKED her specifically and she said she'd be here til SIX.   But she's gone.  I drove all the way back down here wasting my time and gas and will have to come back before 1:00 tomorrow now.  I can't believe this.  VERY upsetting.  I'm telling you, it's a PLOT!  Let's just keep thwarting her every step of the way , wasting her time and money and keeping her from doing what she needs to do and then, lets have all her friends ask why it's taking so long   Let's bug her about it until she kills herself or them.
    A man is copying the power of attorney forms and trying to help me, but the bottom line is, I probably have to comeback tomorrow.  Another lady gets involved and brings me some forms to sign and I sign them, but the forms are different, so I may or may not have to come back tomorrow.

Thursday, August 10, 2006


I successfully cut a second mat, but discovered that even that one, which appeared to be two inches longer than the other, is short by a quarter of an inch.  I guess AC Moore is not the ace to buy mats.  There was nothing readily available to measure them, and they were clearly labeled with (incorrect) measurements.

Not I have to decide whether to just use the one I''ve already printed which has flaw, or attempt to redo it so it is flaw free.

not mowing

I was going to mow Wednesday, but got too tired.  So I was going to mow today, but wanted first to attempt to get ready for the State Fair.  I was just about to break from the preparations for the fair and start mowing when it started pouring.  That was also going to be my exercise for the day, so I either have to go out and mow in the rain (with probably poor results) OR go out and walk in the rain. I guess I'll go back to working on the pictures for a while.

three down

I carefully swabbed rubber cement on my newly printed and dried picture and carefully lined it up and laid it down. 

Lo and behold, another flaw!  When I took up the other picture, it roughened the surface of the rubber cement, and the little bumps and pips are visible under the picture.  But I am going to leave it.  How many times can I redo them?  Every single picture for Icons and images and the State Fair has some flaw.  I have not yet been able to do one right.  Not one.

But I put the tags and postcard in the back and packed it up for delivery.  It's the THIRD print of that picture, I wasn't going to make a 4th.

While at AC Moore, I was tempted to buy a mat cutter, but I refrained.  I don't know how long I'll be doing this.


By the way, the mat board is labeled 20 x 32 RIGHT ON THE RECEIPT!!!!!

a tendency to blame myself!

Well, I am back from AC Moore with the mats and annoyed.  When I measured the mat I'd originally bought at home, I was very upset to discover that instead of being able to cut two mats out of it, I could only cut one.  I would have sworn they were labeled 20 x 32, but they were 20 x 30.  I decided I must have read wrong.  BUT NO, they are clearly labeled 20 x 32!  The mat was cut wrong--and I didn't measure it, I trusted the store label.

And to make things worse, there were no more white ones, so I had to buy black.  I got two in case I messed one up.   If they had had the right-sized mats or if they had them correctly labeled so I'd have bought two, I might have gotten these things read and delivered today and saved time and money--time and money BOTH being of essence now.

failure!!! :-(

I got the picture situated on the mat perfectly, and was so pleased, but got a drop of rubber cement on it an can't get it off, so now I am reprinting the picture after peeling the other back off the mat.

bad nights and days

I have been sleeping even more poorly and my fibro is getting worse and worse (still not as bad as it often is in Detroit or as it used to be).  But bad.  It's been cool at night, but I'm restless and itchy and insomniac.  THis and the heat are not helping!  Not helping to get things done.

I wonder if the propel water had something bad in it--never read the ingredients, or the meal I had with Janine, or what.  Otherwise I'm eating mostly whata I normally eat.  Or maybe the ragweed has started pollinating.  (?)

mats, corners and rubber cement

I got the first mat successfully cut.  I went to the art supply store looking for Pam corners, but they had nothing like that.  And the deadline is imminent, so I just spread rubber cement and am waiting for it to dry a little for secure bond.  The corners will have to wait for a future show.  Meanwhile, it is heating up and I'm starting to sweat, which makes photowork difficult.  When I finish this one, I have to go to AC Moore for another mat, but I'll have to shower and dress first.

progress report 1:18 PM Thursday

After dealing with some issues regarding my mother's trust, and a few other unrelated but urgent issues I needed to deal with, I got to work on the art for the state fair and I attached hangers and wired the beating the heat picture.  I attached the required labels, filled out the postcards, and packed up the art for transport--not that easy, as there was little left in the house appropriate to transport art.  So the "ART" (2 pieces) is finally ready to be delivered, but I have not yet started on the photos.  I have to cut mats etc.  I am eager to get them done and turned in because there is so much else waiting to be attended to, all urgent.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

My day so far on Tuesday

"The best laid plans of mice and men gwyn aft awry."

I had been getting all nervous because I hadn't been making any progress on the house while working on Icons and Images. So I have made a big push lately on the house, though you might not be able to tell.

Today I realized the State Fair deadline for my four photoart pictures is fast approaching and decided to break from working on the house, but have been prevented from doing that by a variety of things. I won't go into them all, but the latest was that TA called while I was eating breakfast. I haven't heard from him in a long time and was happy to talk to him, but we talked for a really really long time. I finally went down in the basement and sorted stuff while talking. But there are certain decisions I can't make on the phone, so the sorting wasn't as thorough as it might otherwise be. There are more than the usual number of piles of thing waiting for further inpection. I got a quite a bit done--of sorting--but nothing at all on the pictures yet. I did, however, empty a large box of stuff, the majority of which I recycled.


by me, July 5, 1965 age 19 from pages 22-25 of Journal AM-2  Written in Hippie "Crash Pad" in the East Village in NYC

My toothache, an abscess I am sure, has become my entire existence.  The toothache is an entity of its own, separate yet consuming my entire self.  It is shaped like a bowling pin with a ten watt Christmas bulb at the top and a 300 watt bulb at the bottom.  It pulsates and flashes, red and yellow, sometimes fiery, sometimes dull, but omnipresent. I'm not the only one with a toothache,everyone seems to be getting them. Besides the toothache, there is the hunger, the constipation, the bugs (fleas, I think), the dirt, the difficult-to-flush toilet, the crooked bathroom doors that never close, the ripped mattresses, the greedy, cheating attitudes even between friends,  The fakeness.

There is also the freshness, the beauty and simplicity, the sharingness and openness, the friendliness, the deliciousness of food (when we have any), the coldness of water, the glory of a good night's sleep (who am I kidding?  when do we sleep?), the patterns and variations of people, no hang-ups about nakedness, just talking and touching.

Mentioning parts of the day does not describe the day.  Mentioning bugs does not give a full picture of waking up itching with crawly things in your hair and clothes, biting you, running around on you, or of trying to catch them and pinch them, not knowing for sure if the are just ants or something awful.  And there is no way to describe the mixture of sex smells and dirt smells and spoiled food smells.  The mattresses, filthy and ripped, are lying on the floor.  No one attempts to walk around them, barefooted or shod.  They clamber over them from the bathroom or the hacked-on, peed-on streets.  Clothes are dirty, bodies are dirty, though baths do happen.  My soap was stolen--soap is very rare, like food and toothpaste.  Books on drugs and the drugs themselves are the most visible (and invisible) things around.  Poor diets, weariness and fatigue, sleeping in fits.  Never any silence.  Barking dogs, loud radios, loud voices day and night.

Girls, including me, seem, for the most part, to be more hung-up than boys on morality, virginity, sex, morals, dirt and so on.  The boys are the ones pushing free love.  The girls aren't all that eager.  But now there are bongo drums and guitars, people sing and play, whistle.  A real good scene, no hang-ups.

Sunday, August 06, 2006

A Note to Molecular turtle on the event of a new Aquarium:

I used to raise guppies, very pretty.  Fancy ones!  Nice colors.

Mine met sad demises in a variety of ways. Once the heater malfunctioned and they all were boiled to death. Another time the tank developed a leak while I was on an extended trip and all the water leaked out, ruining the floor and rugs and desiccating the fish--speaking of which--one of their favorite things to do was to leap out of the tank at night and dry up sticking to the floor before morning.  The best part of that was the dreams I had, recurring dreams of them swimming in the air above the tank at night, venturing further and further away.  They had to be back by down or they'd fall to the floor and shrivel, but they were so eager to explore they sometime risked swimming too far through the air.


By me, age 22, September 3, 1968  (Journal Entry)

I am reading Stand Still Like a Hummingbird by Henry Miller again.  In "When to Reach for My Revolver," he says, "[The Great artist's] idea of freedom is a life lived imaginatively."  YES!  OH YES!  That is good.  I have been wondering for years what freedom was, and now, I find an idea that comes close, somehow, to my own concept of freedom. {See page 37 of this record.}  I spent a lifetime looking for freedom, but it was always "freedom from."  I ran away form college, dropped out, went to NYC searching for freedom from restrictions.  I left NY looking for freedom from dirt, smells, filth, disease, smog, etc.  I left Peter because I wanted freedom from his control.  I must now search for "freedom to."  I want freedom to live life imaginatively, freedom to live my life in every sense of the word.  

from p 37:

July 6, 1965, age 19

People here are not communicating well.


this dirt, confusion, day to day living here at 212 E 7th street in NYC is freedom. Freedom from parental restrictions, almost complete freedom from the law, freedom from sex hang-ups and many other hang-ups, freedom to do what one wants, something so many people want.  But this is not freedom.  A new set of restrictions have been lowered to replace the old.  There is no freedom to do anything one wants.  Things cost money and we have none.  One is not free from hunger or free to eat as one pleases.  One is not free from work, for one must cook in order to eat, wash clothes in order to be clean,   One can eliminate all luxuries and live in pure simplicity, spend ones time eating, sleeping and cleaning up, but that assumes something to eat.  We have nothing.  This isn't good for me.  I want out.

I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats

Saturday, August 05, 2006

Yet another box

I just completed ONE MORE box and carried it out to the garage.  It was probably the nicest day of the whole summer, but I haven't been out at all except to take pictures of Erin and Mark and Bruce and Debbie working.

I haven't had dinner or walked and if I don't hurry, I won't get to eat before our 9:15 meeting on-line.

Another Bag of Garbage

I just hauled out another bag of garbage.  It's a beautiful day, a perfect day to be out, and I'm sitting in the basement sorting trash.  One more bag.  A very large bag, I might add.  And while I was outt here, I took pix of Bruce and Erin and Debbie and Mark working.  They've been out there working for almost 4 hours.  I'd like to go for a walk, while it's still light, but I don't want to go off while the're all here working, so I'm going to keep working.  AK!

One more box

I got one more box packed.  Erin and Bruce and Debbie and Mark are still working in the yard.  They've got a lot done.  I took some pictures between work sessions.


I don't want Bruce, but I am glad to remember now that he did have his good points.  A sense of humor, too, he was cracking jokes like mad, some of them untended only for me (about Pocatello--none of the others were there).

I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats

One to three

I went out to check again, after finishing repacking a box that I'd already packed and then unpacked, and sorting through a box of crap and two bags.  Bruce was cutting down some thigh-thick ashes closely entangled in the crab apple and the other three were standing and watching again.  I must say he is good with a chain saw.  It was leaning toward the roof and he brought it down between the side of the house and the bushes.  I remembered for a moment one of the reasons I fell in love with him--he's so very capable.  I do not mean this as a negative comparison.  I'm in love now with my new husband, and he too is very capable.

Me, age 22 (Self-portrait)

Monday, August 19, 1968

Look in the mirror, Mary.  What do you see?

A girl, in her early twenties, slightly overweight but not unattractive, tanned [but not tan enough], dressed in matching orange underwear covered by a ripped blue workshirt with a kief smoker on the back.  Hair in braids, dark eyes, flushed skin from dancing.

What about the face?

The face, sometimes almost lovely, sometimes ugly.  One eye Hindu Indian, one eye Italian.  [I like the Indian eye better].  Mouth slightly crooked, a slightly bitter twist, but soft.  Sometimes proud and defiant.  Sometimes sulky.

Bitter.  I don't want to be bitter.  Proud-looking maybe, but please, not bitter.

I don't want to be fat.  I would like to be slim, large, raw-boned, stark, not fat, flabby, wrinkly and bitter.  Please.  Not fat!   

A one to three ratio

For a while after they got here, Erin, Mark and Debbie stood and watched while Bruce did all the work.  But now Erin's helping Bruce and Debbie and Mark are pulling down vines from the side of the house.

The Possibility of a Perverse Universe

September 2, 1968, age 22

It seem logical to me that when people die, that is it.  They just cease.  But logic can be faulty.  In the light of new evidence, logicians, like scientists, may change their views.  There is no proof, at any rate, that the universe is logical.  It may be perverse.  It is almost as logical to suppose that there is life after death as to suppose there is not.  I would like to think (I think) that some part of us continues on because I don't like the idea of ceasing.  Yet, what if life after death is hell?  Wouldn't it then be better to just cease?

Mary Ciaranello (me)  (or was I Mary Schuschni then?)

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

ONE more

I got ONE more box packed, a relatively small one.  And made a nice dinner-- three meals today for the first time in a long time.  Any excuse to sit down for a minute.

In the Balance

In the Balance, by Mary Stebbins Taitt. Click image to view larger. Posted by Picasa


I got ONE more box packed (a small one) and largish bag of clean folded clothes for the salvation army packed and hauled to the garage.  One more load of laundry into the dryer.  Crying a little, because I'm hot and tired and don't want to be doing this, but if I don't keep trying to do it, it won't gt done.


It was so hot last night I had trouble sleeping and it is so hot now, I am having torubleworing.  I just wasnt to lie down and do nothing.  Sleep, or stare into space.  One foot slowly in front of the next.  AK!

a delightful if stupid lunch

I used the other half of the coconut milk to mae a delicious coconut milk soup--it came out great.  BUT when I was done inhaling it, I iscovered I'd forgotten to add the cilantro, and that was the whole purpose of buying fresh cilentro--I've been using for other things becasue they don't sell it by the tablespoon--DUH! It tasted very good anyway.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006


I got blisters on my feeting mowing today--which I don't remember ever happening before--I think because it was so HOT and my feet were sweating so much.  Aieee.

going out to get supplies fr printing the state Fair pix.

In jo(e)'s blog

jo(e) has written about our afternoon together at the art park.


I am unfond of mowing.  I do not like the loud noise or the breathing the fumes or cutting down the pretty wildflowers that spring up in my yard.  I am most unfond of it in the heat.  And it exacerbates the fibromylagia. 


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