Cat Walk

Yesterday I headed out solo for my morning walk. Usually I have my dog Homer leading the way but this time I left him to play with the daughter of my house cleaner. Without Homer as my "feline repulser" I had the marvelous treat of meeting  neighborhood cats along the way. This was extra special since my house has been cat-less for the past 17 months.

 This orange tabby proved to be an excellent poser! In between rubs against my legs he would flop upon the ground wriggling with delight and yowling his desire to be adored. I think I must have snapped about 30 pics of him and with the lovely long shadows of the season it made for some interesting shots. I LOVE the way the shadows above make him look like he is a big horn sheep!

 Eventually I pulled myself away from this delightful fellow but as I rounded the next corner I spied another kitty and got a second fix!

 Soon she was joined by a very elderly calico. This one broke my heart....one eye was crusted shut and her pathetic meow was more of a croak. I stroked her bony back to give her as much attention as my short visit allowed. I was worried they would follow me as I tread my way up the hill, but luckily they didn't wander far.

 It is funny how the simple things in life can inspire us and make our hearts swell! The rest of the way home my head sung with ideas and inspiration. Thanks to these 3 little kitties!

Painting Outside the Canvas

Last month I was invited to paint a fiberglass fire hydrant for a

 Microsoft fund raiser that would benefit Summit Assistance Dogs. 

Being the adverturesome sort and a HUGE dog lover I immediately signed up.

They requested the hydrant be painted in bright colors with a dog theme.

Since I have painted dogs for what seems like forever 

and I love bold colors it was a no-brainer!

 

While still working on it I brought it with me on our family vacation to 

Whidbey Island in August and had a bit of fun photographing it in different locations. 

 

Buddy lives on a nearby farm and didn't mind sharing his porch for a while.

 

The tide is rising on Mutiny Bay but the 

hydrant holds sentry on a waning sand bar.

Yes....'tis a thing of curiosity in a cow pasture!

 Homer and I hanging on the beach...I kept waiting to see if he

would lift his leg on it, but he wasn't interested.

 This little vignette next to a country garden in an 

island community couldn't be passed up.

Finishing up a hot day with a cool dip in the pool!

Closeups of the art on the hydrant:

I have named the hydrant "Dawg Daze of Summer" and it will be displayed 

around the Microsoft campus the entire month of October. 

Microsoft employees will be able to log online to place bids.

WHAT A KICK THIS PROJECT HAS BEEN FOR ME ~

I HOPE IT BRINGS IN PLENTY OF CASH FOR SUMMIT DOGS!!!!!!

The killer instinct

 That's me (#11) playing on a club team 

in 1980 with my UW teammates

Growing up the only thing I wanted to be more than an artist was an athlete. Not just any athlete, an Olympic athlete. My childhood was spent dashing, jumping, swinging, leaping, swooshing and invariably hanging upside down for copious amounts of daylight hours. I personified the term "Tomboy" completely. While I did go on to play basketball and volleyball in college, the glory of this goal was way out of reach.

Volleyball became my mainstay and I spent over 30 years playing and coaching this fabulous game. It was where I met my husband 34 years ago and our social lives revolved around it for many, many years. I did come precipitously close to competing in this sport professionally. In 1980 I was invited to play in a co-ed league for the Seattle Smashers, but the 2 year old professional league fizzled that year and after just a couple practices my dreams were dashed.

Having a competitive spirit is an advantage in life that is hard to learn, so I am grateful I was born with it. At times me and my friends were overly-competitive and our coach/PE instructor in high school had to take us aside and give us the opposite of a pep talk. Seems insane right? But Title IX was fresh off the press and we were like ravenous bears set loose in a city where the trash had mounted due to a 2 week strike.

So watching the Olympics has become my recent sport and watching volleyball in particular. Dave and I have such a deep shared history with this sport. His language difficulties go by the wayside and we are transported to our active youth once again. Like everything in life, time polishes the hard edges and appeases the hunger so being relegated to "armchair athlete" suits me fine....especially during these glorious few weeks of  the XXX Summer Olympics. Yet a twinge of "killer instinct" lingers from long ago days....I just need to be careful it doesn't injure me!

Time really does heal all wounds

3 months ago I wrote the submission below but never posted it to my blog. Where does the time go???? Trying to stay on top of life, art and all the trappings is like holding down 3 full time jobs. I have been remiss but I am making attempts to stay connected and balanced but still moving forward. 

I find it curious to see how far I/we (my husband) have come in such short periods of time. Veils have been lifting from his wounded brain the past couple months and we are in a much stronger place. We can do this! Life is settling into a pattern much more similar to what I remember pre-stroke and my work has become very important again. So without any more to add, here is what I wrote in late April:

I have been naughty…at least towards keeping up on my blog. In 2010, when I first started blogging, I had intended it to be strictly a place to talk about and reveal my art.
A year later my husband suffered a severe stroke and I found the easiest way to keep everyone informed was to blog about it. For months my entries were only about Dave and his stroke recovery and nothing about my art.

When the dust settled and I was able to get back in front of my easel I tried to keep the focus again on art only. Time goes on and it becomes apparent that when one is an artist it is impossible to separate life from art. This morning I awoke to the realization that my attempts to compartmentalize the “artist me” from the “woman me” was stifling!

I have decided my only requirement in these blogs and life in general is to be authentic.

From this point forward you can count on my entries online to be completely forthcoming and honest about my life, my art and how they intersect (or not).

I spent so much time giving updates on how Dave was doing I neglected myself. One has only so much energy and there were plenty of times my seemingly inexhaustible reserves of energy nearly dried up. It was sink or swim time!

After going through what we have in our household it had left me feeling at times raw and wounded, fragile and exposed. Most of us spend the years between teen and midlife fortifying our emotional strength and knowledge of self into a foundation of confidence and faith. I felt like I could conquer the world and take on whatever task was at hand!

Then the wind was taken out of my sails, the rug pulled from beneath my feet and I spent months just focusing on building up my life partner and love, with little left to give myself. Sure I heard plenty of times, “Make sure and take time for yourself” and intellectually you know that, but the reality is not so easy.

So here we are….7 months post stroke and 5 months post foot surgery (for me) and the best I can do is take it a day at a time. There is so much I want to accomplish! I want so badly each day to feel the wheels of productivity pushing me forward as to fall in to bed at night exhausted from achievement instead of emotional fatigue. It will come! Slowly but surely we are recapturing what we can of our former lives. It will never be the same but we can build a good “new”. I just need to be patient and faithful and forgiving.

The Dog Who Cried CAT!!!!!!

The Dog Who Cried CAT!!!!!!

Recently I was on Whidbey Island for the Choochokum Arts Festival in the charming town of Langley. Some of my pet portraits are on display at the local veterinarian and I stopped in to borrow my portfolio book to share with the fair-goers over the weekend. On Monday morning I returned the book and was chatting with Holly who works there and she told me a true story about a dog and one of my paintings that he mistook for a real cat.

The painting above is Holly's favorite and she insists it be displayed prominently at the clinic. One day a woman comes in with 2 dogs, one who behaves well and the other, a Siberian Husky, who needs a bit of vigilance. As the woman and Holly were in conversation the Husky suddenly spots the painting. Now this painting is hanging 5 feet from the ground but this does not deter him! He lets loose a ferociously deep growl and bunching his massive muscles he leaps at the cat he must surely deem an impostor. The woman, ever alert to her dog's quirks, reacts with amazing alacrity and literally grabs the Husky by the neck while he is mid-air in full attack mode and yanks him back to earth. 

He nearly became a collector of cat art!

The Cumbersome Commuter

Transportation is troublesome…especially in Seattle where excessive growth and tight topography create limitations. Add a politically correct environment stirred with the need to create committees and task forces and you get STALEMATE! One of the only reliable means for public transportation continues to be the bus…so I decided to pose one of my FACEs at the bus stop across the street from my house.

The lovely model is my niece, Stephanie, whom I have painted several times before in my more traditional work. She is such a busy young lady who lives 90 minutes away over a mountain pass that the chance to paint her is slim. When she had a recent hiatus from work I jumped at the chance to have her part of my project and to spend some quality time with her!

Steph is a country girl at heart and anyone who knows her would chuckle at the image of her as a city girl waiting for a bus loaded down with luggage. But the irony is the thing here…for me leastwise. In the past I tried to convince her to move down to the city and immerse herself in the vibrancy Seattle has to offer but she balked. Now she is even more firmly ensconced in her rural ways and I am happy for her. I love the country myself but think that youth should revel in urban delights before settling in for a bucolic existence. Steph is accustomed to her opinionated Auntie, so I hope I am forgiven here as well!

My initial vision for her photo was as a naturalistic tree-hugger sort but that was not meant to be due to a late Spring in our region so I am saving that for a future victim. We did manage to take a few shots with trees but I liked the commuter one in the end. And I got a memento of the luscious luggage I bought to use for a trip but ended up returning to the store. I believe they would have really stood out in the airport dontcha think??? 

The Steadfast Sunday Driver

The afternoon before Easter is not always the best time for a photo shoot in a Safeway grocery store. This Prime Time promises the aisles will be a-scurry with shoppers but I had little choice as the timing was right for the principal players in this short drama titled “The Steadfast Sunday Driver”. As a recent FACE victim, my Aunt was the intended main subject, but as you can see the child stole the show. And we got lucky…our shots occurred in between the swarms of shoppers making it seem not as busy as it was.

I chose a big name grocery chain as the backdrop for a couple of reasons. Safeway stores have played a big role in my family’s lives with 3 of my 4 siblings having worked there in their youth. My Aunt Gail, featured behind the grocery cart, also worked there although later in life to help makes ends meet. Grocery stores are an integral part of who we are as Americans, a place we depend upon in our daily lives. I don’t know the statistics but I wager we spend a huge amount of time each week rambling down aisles in search of sustenance.

What I find amusing about these stores are the changes made to encourage shoppers. Currently there are 4 types of carts to choose from and the most ungainly of all is the one that has an actual toy car attached to the front end. These contraptions are behemoths on wheels, lumbering along with squealing children steering as if they were “Lightening McQueen” on the final lap of the Piston Cup Championship! What hits my funny button is despite their desperate pantomimes the cart continues on its unwavering path.

My Grandson Ashton was more than up to the task and played his part to the hilt. At one point he was grasping the “carrot-on-steroids” we had chosen to leave out for the Easter Bunny. Just as I was about to click the shutter he ad-libbed by putting the carrot in his mouth. Like I mentioned before he stole the show time and again. Throughout history actors have feared this phenomenon which prompted WC Fields to retort “Children should neither be seen nor heard from -- ever again!” 

The Art Impulse Returns

I have been waiting for this moment…when my desire to paint is rekindled. While it is just a tingly beginning…I am certain it will continue to grow! I’ve especially wanted to revive my FACE Project so last weekend when Dave and I drove to the Methow Valley to visit his oldest friend (not in age but time), I made sure to pack right: FACE # 1, 27, 28 and 39 made it into my suitcase…the correct paintings for the exact players involved.

Dave (on far right) clutches the hand of friend Byron circa 1956. Sister Sandi in front

I originally painted Byron and his wife Wendy at their ranch in October 2010. Dave was my inaugural FACE while I am the Johnny-come-lately of the crew. Winter in the valley is breathtakingly beautiful and we had a fresh snow fall the first night. Before we left I had concocted several scenarios using our FACEs and loved every bit of it! We even traded FACEs for a group shot. 

Dave has had his ups and downs in the several weeks since I have updated this blog….but then so have I. The both of us are on the mend and we try to keep our chins up. Language continues to be a struggle yet progress continues. The thing that marvels me the most is Dave’s terrific attitude and how he perseveres in the face of these rough events. Most people would lose their temper more often or become a curmudgeon…not Dave! With courage he weathered last week’s low when the words issuing forth were nonsense then suddenly this week things smoothed out and he could feel success and reward by actually saying what he meant! 

One thing I have noticed the past couple weeks is that Dave has been logging onto Ebay, something he would often do pre-stroke but was beyond him until recently. He still cannot read emails but he can read just enough along with the visuals about comic books to keep him at the keyboard at least a couple times a day. This is encouraging!!! I am girding my loins for the point he progresses to bidding on comics again…sheesh! You would think he had enough of them already????

We are working towards total independence. Should I not be around to negotiate the pitfalls Dave needs to learn how to fend for himself and I believe it won’t be too long. The trick is for me to send him out on his own more often, forcing him to learn to navigate the world without his “Speaking-Mouth Guide”. If anyone has the mouth for it I am your gal! I realize I have been too protective of him at times but make no apologies for it. Time to cut the ribbon!

We are finding ways to keep him occupied and have set up a table by the front window for puzzles. We also recently bought some models for him to assemble, something he has wanted to do for years. We are looking into apps on an Ipad for Aphasics to help with his language skills that also can be entertaining. We watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and although he cannot follow it all I am amazed at what he can. I am hoping it won’t be long before he can listen to audio books and be able to follow the dialog. Right now it is too much for him. We have learned to celebrate his progress in increments.

I remind myself of how far he has come since September 26^th, the date of his stroke. He has had to learn how to stand, walk, eat, dress himself, use and strengthen his right side and drive a car. He now does these things with such alacrity that mostly one cannot tell he suffered a stroke. He takes daily walks (much to Homer’s delight!) and has lost 40 pounds. A good night’s sleep is still a challenge but it has improved. 

He has also spent countless hours learning how to make certain sounds and words then REPEAT, REPEAT, REPEAT, REPEAT, REPEAT!!!!!! Then REPEAT some more. The challenge is making this stimulating and not tedious. He is doing just FINE!!! There were even a few days not long ago that he was doing so well with his talking that I almost forgot he had Aphasia. We are told that these times will come more often as we continue to work and move forward in our life. We are settling in to a somewhat normal routine and feeling hopeful and grateful!

Trudging Along

The past couple of days we have been socked in with heavy snowfall. Our 4x4 truck has the ability to get us most anywhere but we’ve lent it to our son so he can get to work. Meanwhile we are content to stay at home and admire the rare beauty of a snowfall in Seattle. I am recently off my scooter and sporting a walking boot but a misplaced step on the ice could upend my plans of recovery so for once I am playing it on the cautious side. Is that gasping I hear???? Yesssirreee! I am not being reckless!

Before Dave’s stroke neither one of us had even heard of “Aphasia”, which literally means ‘absence of speech’. Nearly one third of all stroke victims suffer aphasia adding up to on million people in the US with this condition. Yikes! And we had no idea??? Well we are starting to get one….

The experience of aphasia is different for each person ranging from total disability in communication to being able to function in society. For some people numbers and letters are alien-like squiggles. Others cannot follow anything but the most simply spoken sentences in conjunction with gestures and visual aids. Still others think they are speaking correctly when in fact complete nonsense spurts forth from their lips. Dave has experienced parts of each of these in phases of his recovery but he is progressing very well to the point that most of the time he knows when he has garbled or spoken the wrong word.

Dave and I often devote multiple times daily to his speech therapy. The more we plug along on this path the more apparent it is that Dave’s goal of being able to read may take years of working hard and even then there are no guarantees. As of now he can read words here and there but stringing them together in sentences and gaining context is beyond him. We work very hard on the alphabet and he consistently repeats it correctly. As it turns out this is his strength and we use it daily to rebuild his skills. 

Right now we are working on the letters A, E, S, T, and P and simple “sight” words beginning with these letters that are taught to young children. We start with “What is this letter?” “What sound does it make?” and then try to have him recognize and pronounce words that start with the letter. Plenty of times it is arduous, tedious and frustrating...we spent over 2 weeks on the same 6 words and they still do not come naturally to him. Yet he does improve and when he nails it we both reap the reward!

You wouldn’t think there was anything funny about aphasia but you are wrong! With all due respect to Dave and his valiant struggles we have had some darn good chuckles when the word he meant to say is replaced by something else. I never laugh AT Dave (he usually doesn’t realize he has spoken the wrong word until told). I always make sure to clue him in so we can laugh together. Humor is the foundation of our life together and why shouldn’t we continue to get glee from the ironies of the situation?

Here are some of my favorite Davisms:

·        When asked what doctor he had been to see he blithely replied “My gynecologist”.

·        When telling about the “scallops and prawns” meal he ordered on Christmas Eve it came out as “scallops and orgies”.

·        It is not uncommon during a home speech session that the wrong word is spoken or written but when he identified a roll of electrical tape as a TURD how can one not snicker?

·        But my favorite Dav-ish incident came one night while playing cards with friends. I was on a roll and drawing the best cards when Dave muttered “You are so fat!” when he meant “lucky” (at least I hope he did!). After informing him that he had called me fat I decided that I too would become aphasic and turned to Dave’s partner (and my opponent) and declared “You are so stupid!”

There are so many things we are learning and coming to terms with. I know life will never be as it was before but we can still have a fulfilling and complete life even if Dave never reads again. The morning newspaper is a cherished ritual only I can enjoy for now. The daily comics were a favorite of his and I have been saving them in a stack since his stroke with the hope that he one day he will be able to take pleasure in them once again. One thing is certain: we will never give up trying!

P.S. I am currently not on Facebook and it has been a thorn in my side! Several days ago I was converting my page to Timeline and instead it converted to a fan page and left me literally unable to post, comment or view the home page or any of my friend’s pages. I have spent hours trying to solve it and FB has not helped one whit! My last choice was to deactivate my account and wait 2 weeks to re-open another one. That means I will have to completely rebuild my site and friendships but oh well….it is a new beginning in many respects! (if anyone has any suggestions please let me know!!!!)

 

Pity Party

The post below I wrote yesterday and decided to sit on the words a bit to see if I really wanted to publish them. Today I realized that I need to keep my entries as real as possible...no sugar coating! People that know me well know I shoot straight from the hip and I do not hold with tying reality up in pretty little bows or in sweeping life under the carpet. "It is was it is" and if I am to continue writing in this manner I will report our circumstances with respectful authenticity. 

But I will preface this by saying today was a MUCH, MUCH better day than we have had all week. So here goes:

PITY PARTY

I have put much effort into keeping my blog entries as upbeat as possible. People want to hear things are going smoothly and Dave is improving…and he is improving, however incremental it is, we just need to remind ourselves that it is improvement all the same. It also helps me to try and look at things with a smile but when out-of-the-blue obstacles crop up and undermine my well laid plans I end up in a puddle of glum. 

Not long after Dave’s stroke I was contacted by people who had their own stories of long term care-giving and they offered me support with their kind words. There really is no recipe for handling life changing events such as we have gone through…the only way is forward with chin held up as high as you are able. The tough part is keeping your chin up!

I have had plenty of talks with myself concerning attitude: “Cheryl, you have 2 choices….on one side is misery and the other is joy. Now which one is more fun?” The answer is joy of course and I figure if I can bend my mind in that direction it may not exactly hit “Joy” but it certainly will stray from “Misery”. Most of the time this stiff talk slaps me in the face with a good dose of “get-over-it” but lately I have sincerely struggled. The culprit is my weakened state due to foot surgery last week. I am now in the position of needing the care.

Going into this surgery I understood the stakes but I really needed to get my foot taken care of so I could move forward in my life also. I actually welcomed this as the next step in Dave’s recovery. By all accounts things should have been fine with his recent success and improvements. I thought, “How great his new independence will feel when the roles are reversed and he can benefit from being the care-taker rather than the receiver!” Not that I require that much care…but not being able to put weight on my left foot for 2 weeks makes the simple things awkward and time consumptive. 

The first few days went swell with Dave cooking dinner, doing laundry while I lazed about in a drug induced nirvana. Enter the unplanned perpetrators: first Dave broke a tooth and then he got sick. Not just a little ill but enough to have him slumbering on the couch for hours on end, drinking little and eating less. Pain and illness combined to slay his language skills and his energy has been nil. Meanwhile I wheel myself around the house trying to care for myself and him. This morning I broke down when it took me 3 times as long as it should to change the bed sheets. Jorel discovered me with hunched shoulders weeping with abandon. I was having my own little pity party and boy was I the life of the party! Or the death…depending upon your perspective. 

I have a plethora of sayings posted on my studio wall and the one I have reflected most upon the past 3 months states “Plan for the worst, Hope for the best, Take what comes.” The taking-what-comes part can leave a bitter taste in your mouth…and taking it with grace and a positive spirit is what I would aspire to but do not accomplish as well as I would like. 

So many times when I find myself on the doorstep of misery I am blessed with a perspective that makes me realize that things are not so tough. There are always people suffering so much greater than we are. Things are grim but not fatal. My situation is temporary and soon my scooter will be in the rear view mirror. I must have faith as we plug along each day with the formidable task of learning to talk, read and write that Dave’s situation will also prove temporary. At that time I will be healed and ready to jump and tumble and dance in joy!