Baltimore, MD: The New South Pole

I bet hundreds, thousands of people all over the Mid-Atlantic of the U.S. are blogging-out over the mondo snow-blast that continues to drop piles of powder in the region. I suppose I will join the ranks. UNBELIEVABLE. Really. It started here around 1 p.m. yesterday and hasn’t stopped yet–it’s 1:55 p.m. now. 24 hours. Luckily, I purchased enough food Thursday to get us through a solid two weeks before the cats start looking like chicken. Hopefully we won’t get Donner Party levels of starvation here in the row house. The IS a grocery store about a seven minute walk from our house, so we may survive, if the shelves have anything left on them. Might take an hour to walk there in three feet of snow. Whatevz. We got food, the heat appears to be working (thanks, fifty year old, asbestos coated, barely working oil burner! kudos!), the girls are relatively healthy (however, Beenie appears to be sporting what I believe to be pink-eye as of last night…ugh), we still have electricity and really nice neighbors. I’m thinking of making some muffins this afternoon to share with the ladies on each side of us. Thanks for being great, Florence and Sue!

So, my painting studio wall seems to have been rented. Damned lack of money! I just can’t do it right now. Good pal, art mentress Jiyun says that my finding myself again studio-less means that there’s something else I want/need more than a wall in a studio. Which, of course, would rule. I’d love to have a permanent place to put all my art crap — drawings, paintings, supplies, a desk, some quiet and focus. I want that. Though, I also have loved sharing Julia’s studio for the past few months. I actually completed the big flower painting — at least, I can’t think of anything else to do to it. So it must be done. Not bad timing, really. Though it is never a good time not to have a painting studio. Something else will come along at the right moment, it always does.

Have I mentioned I’m in an ice castle? WHEN WILL THE SNOW STOP?! Have been thinking about baking, maybe muffins of some sort. Pie. Cookies. Really, is there anything else to do during a blizzard? It’s that or bitch at everyone around me. More soon from the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow… oh, how I wish there were hot springs here! Brrrrrrrrr…….

Again?

Wolf Moon, 2010.

Really? Is it winter again in Baltimore? This is usually such a temperate climate. But for some reason this winter is especially cold and snowy. Which, frankly, I could do without. Anything that prevents me from going to the painting studio gets put on the shit list. Plus, from what I can tell, winter = scourge of all sorts. Every few weeks, without fail. Bullshit. Maybe Arizona would be a good state to move to next. New Mexico? I actually like Baltimore, tho. And my parents live near here. And they need their granddaughters, and the girls LOVE their grandparents. We’re staying put. Besides, who has money to move? Not me. Not us. Bleech.

I am at once inspired and completely without energy. How can that be? I’ve had a number of ‘occultish’ messages over the past few weeks from various sources. Astrology, Tarot, channeled dreams told to me by a person. Weird shit. All of the messages have been quite similar, also freaky. Apparently, my summer is gonna be OFF THE HOOK! Better start training now, now that I’m trapped in my igloo hibernation compound. This confinement is worse for the girls than for me. They actually require quite a bit of physical exertion, unlike me, who has all too easily settled into a completely sloth-like existence. As a result, they have covered their weird, oversized stuffed horse in blankets, put him on a large pillow, listened to his ‘heart beeps’ with their stethoscopes, and packaged all of their puzzle pieces in brown paper lunch bags. You gotta do something whilst trapped in the house on a freezing cold day, right? The best thing, the coolest thing that happened today, was ROCKING OUT in the basement with the ladies, both singing into microphones, while I played along on my bass. I can’t even tell you how mind-blowingly great it was. They sang at the same time, but complementing one another perfectly, blending Beenie’s constant Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer abstract nod with Mimi’s Mama Sez-type rap, both naturally falling into what was a serious performance. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by this song, actually. Children are so naturally good at so much, it kinda breaks my heart how much we are forced to let fall away once shame comes into play. I must capture this perfection before they realize how brilliant they are. Next time, I’m bringing a recording device.

I don’t like pink!

Did I ever tell you about the pink sequin incident? The girls’ friend, Alexander, who they have known all their lives, twelve days older than them, was over playing a few weeks ago. There is usually some bossing around by Beenie and Alexander, though not really Mimi, but they all get along well and have a good time when they play. The ladies asked me to put on some “Ballet Music”, which refers either to a record of Chopin piano waltzes my mom gave me, or a CD of Handel waltzes their Grandmother Jean gave them. Put on the CD and went upstairs to pee. When I came back, Gayle (Alex’s mom) told me after I went upstairs, she and A watched in amazement as the girls simultaneously stripped and put on their crazy pink sequined tutu-riffic get-ups. They usually do this when the dancing music comes on. When I came down they were already twirling and floating around the middle room. Poor Alex was so overcome by the power of pink, he was rolling around on the ground, crying “I don’t like pink!” till he had to go upstairs to their room to be by himself. He had to physically remove himself from the diaphanous dancing pink cloud of estrogen. I can relate, Alexander. Though it’s not the pink fluff that gets me mad, just their pink fighting.

The girls have been great of late, though. Not sure if its them or me with the good attitude. Both. *

* One day later… this has been a long fucking week. Both girls sick. Not on their deathbeds, but sick enough to be at least as cranky as me. Which makes me REAL cranky.

* Now, the following week. Today has been a bitch of a day. Mimi has been a real piece of work. Extremely defiant, bless her little heart. But not cool when she’s simultaneously fucking with her sister, who clearly isn’t feeling so well. Beenie is still getting over her scourge, good in the mornings, but starts fading quickly in late afternoon. Snotty, lackluster. I should probably take her to the doctor tomorrow. Or not. It is hard to tell sometimes. I’ll see how things are looking after their mid-day “parent/teacher conferences”. Isn’t it weird to have one of those (or two) for three year olds? I mean, I love hearing about my kids as much as the next person, it just seems early, that’s all. What the hell do I know.

I’m gonna publish this shits or it will never happen.

Ten days?!

This tree root is located at the end of my block, along with other filthy roots.

How has it been ten days since I’ve been focused enough to write up on this shits? What has happened in the past ten days? Lots, I suppose. At some point I went to a Capricorn party, funny, as it’s usually the Aquarians and Libras who have mass, astrologically driven birthday celebrations. Something great happened at this event. Most importantly for me, it somehow ended what seems like months of a nasty funk in my brain. You could call it depression, I suppose. You could call it enui. Whatever it was, it SUCKED the life out of me and SUCKED and I hope it never comes back (though what I have learned of the artistic temperament over the years means we shall meet again…). Whatever. It is gone now and suddenly life seems hopeful. The timing for this is strange. The earth shakes and quakes and people suffer terribly. Friends of friends die suddenly. The ether is amiss and for no good reason I am feeling inspired. Not because of the badness, perhaps in spite of it?

My neighbor’s family lives in Haiti, and I’ve been worried about her and them, and was relieved to speak with her today. She said her peeps live in the mountains so no big destruction. She also said that you shouldn’t send money to the gov’t there, because they will not share with the people. I’m glad her family is okay.

I would like to recommend a great international aid organization, a place I once worked for pre-babies, that puts your money directly into the communities of people who are in need. Catholic Relief Services. If you are moved to donate to the relief efforts in Haiti, I can say without hesitation, CRS will do good with it. www.crs.org.

This weekend has been simultaneously shitty and inspired. It seems like things are extreme in general at the moment. Lots of creative inspiration and opportunity. And tons of terrible behavior and money/job stresses. But this is hands-down a billion times better than depressed inertia, the inability to move or get excited about anything. Mania? Bring it on.

Painted this morning for 1.5 hours, which was violet, sienna, sap green, raw umbered bliss. The big painting is almost done. I was even able to tighten up Nappy’s Puddle Painting and start work again on that, which put me in a great mood. Gotta keep that good art energy window cracked. Shit, I should throw a rock through it. It’s hard to get motivated when you’re not motivated.

Frigid

I’m having flashbacks to my five years spent in Chicago lately. Today wasn’t too bad, probably because my body temperature is elevated due to a certain monthly visitor… speaking of which… shouldn’t that just go away after you have all the kids you want? There is no longer a biological necessity to menstruate, and shit, I’m 42 years old. Why bleed? It is the stuff of teenagers — Stayfree, BabySoft, LipSmacker. Free me from this tyranny of tampons! I AM FINISHED! The days are hard enough without having to worry about bleeding through my jammies. TMI, eh?

As I was saying, cold and windy. S’posed to snow again tonight, too. Strange for winter in Baltimore. Usually there aren’t any noticeable snow accumulations, maybe a week or two of coldness, some rain, then it is springtime. This winter has been snowy and really cold for almost two weeks now. The sun was out today. It felt good on my face as I strolled in Fells Point from my car to my job. I love typing that I have a job, even though it doesn’t crack ten hours per week usually. I’m still happy to put on grown-up clothes one morning a week and try to be a part of an office culture. Trying to find outfits that don’t give me away is hard. Most of my clothes have permanent stains of some sort, small holes, or are just shabby looking. This has been a fine costume for the past three years, running with wolves, aka toddlers. But I should have a separate, locked-up pile of clothes I can slip into and appear to the outside world that I belong, even if I don’t entirely think it in my head. Packaging is everything in this instance. Today I discussed content management systems, WordPress, canonical header tags, and broken links with my supervisor/friend. Delicious.

I got home from work, changed, then after the girls had eaten they started fighting on our tall, hardwood staircase, at the top of course. I walked over to yell at them for fighting on the stairs, and Beenie let go or Mimi let go of the ribbon they were fighting over, then Beenie did a SOMERSAULT down a stair or two and because I was there yelling at them, I happened to catch her as her head bashed into the side of the staircase. Big blue goose egg over her forehead. Ice pack. Bring it. She and her sister are now sitting on the couch with their Dada, watching The Simpsons. I think she will live, and I think I may survive this spill, too. It is weird how much this event DID NOT freak me out. All those years of babysitting when I was in my teens and 20’s showed me many a goose egg. Beenie’s was a very small lump compared to the doozies I’ve seen over the years. One instance where being old and experienced benefited parenthood.

My scourge is essentially gone. No cough drops today, almost done my anti-biotics. Lots of good cough medicine and no reason to take it. Still have a day or two before I’ll feel up to drinking booze. Maybe I can have a thimble of scotch before bed. Medicine. Right?

Christmas tree came down Monday or Tuesday. I can’t really remember which. It had solidified into a large, dry piece of firewood, so I carefully removed the cardboard ornaments and paper chains, threw the worn ones into the recycling bag, kept a few, bagged ‘em up and put into the basement for next year. A real tradition started, for my own little family! How exciting! So not the trauma, crying fit Christmas season I’m used to. Kind of festive despite the month long scourge and no money. I suspect no money took the pressure off buying things. Yeah for no money, in this one instance.

I went to the studio and painted for about an hour and-a-half Wednesday morning while the girls were in school. It was tedious and fantastic. Greens and yellows. I’m gonna be ready for a loose painting experience once I’m done the big flower piece. Maybe some Camera Morte based paintings are in order. They tend to be in an abstract vein. It seems like a month since I was able to get away and paint. One day maybe I can spend a few days a week painting. Visualize this, along with the piles of money required to achieve this goal. Happy New Year.

It’s all part of my rock and roll fantasy

Two a.m.? Check. On the couch? Check. Hacking cough? Check. Post nasal drip causing cough? Check. Cough medicine? My special, takes care of cough and all my immediate problems cough medicine?! Where the fuck is my COUGH MEDICINE?! The only good part about the scourges that like clockwork invade my aging body for the past two winters is the revelation of a special cough medicine that actually shuts down the hacking machine in my sinuses and chest and lets me sleep. It lasts for 12 hours, and I only have to take one little teaspoon of this liquid heaven. Really. Where the fuck is it? When I called my doctor last week, whining about the never ending goo in my head and chest, all she did was give me a prescription for antibiotics and said to call her in a week if I wasn’t feeling better. It’s almost been a week, I’m not feeling better and I can’t sleep. She’s getting a call Monday morning. Poor Beenie was whimpering about 20 minutes ago as I hacked in the bathroom upstairs, cursing silently my reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. Said my coughing was driving her crazy. It’s driving me crazy. And it is completely undeserved. I quit smoking in 1997, and have not touched a drop of alcohol for over a month. I am not doing self-destructive acts to induce this cursed curse from hell. Go to some other undeserving sucker, scourge. BE GONE! I loathe thee!

Have, once again, had not a moment of silence to write. My last post was trite. Yes, the holiday crap is gone for yet another year. Woo hoo, right? Well, frankly, this Christmas was different for us here at the old row house stead. We had, and continue to have a teenie Christmas tree. Never in my life did I guess that I would have one, much less leave it up beyond the new year’s arrival. But here it is. I can’t think of any reason to take it down. It still smells good, looks nice, and isn’t shedding too many needles. The girls and I will have to make its dismantling a group project, pack away the cardboard snack box ornaments I made and they painted. It is a little tree. Strange. Having two small and important new-ish people in the house makes the whole experience so different. Thanks to Mimi and Beenie for unwittingly healing my stagnant, old holiday wounds.

Yesterday definitely felt like the start of something. Nothing big. Just clean. Went to a good friend’s annual New Year open house in the afternoon. Was having a total freakout (a quiet, internal one) over the lack of babies. I remember being there two years ago and all there were was babies. The place was awash with babies. This year, I looked around to see only one baby and the rest of the children were HUGE. Including my own children. Just gigantic. And I’m unsure how it happened, but think feeding and nurturing the babies may have something to do with it. Next year they’ll all be driving up in their own cars, sneaking into the back yard to smoke pot and the parents will be complaining about how they miss how easy it was when they were little, how you at least knew where they were at night, how simple their needs were. I am overwhelmed by the intensity of being a parent. And this is just the beginning.

No time to paint. No time to write. Seems like my workload at my part-time job will be picking up in January. I look forward to focusing on this skill that I was certain I had forgotten in the last three years. And making some money. Since I have no vices anymore, maybe I can also make some early art time somehow and sneak out at ungodly hours of the morning to paint. I still want to, you know. I find no solace in a total acceptance of my current situation. I still want to do all kinds of creative things that have nothing to do with my home life. It’s all part of my rock and roll fantasy.

Me, myself, an eye

It’ll be sad to say au revoir to my 2009 Frogs calendar. I’ll just go ahead and say my goodbyes now. Croak. Ribbit. Are those the sounds frogs really make? Adios, rana. Or, rana, adios. Toodle doo.

Christmas? Done. 42 birthday? Over. Bday happened this past Sunday, December 27th. Threw myself a little birthday swaree. Some old friends, some newish friends, five children, three age three, two age 2.5. Two sets of twins, one singleton. I like the little people. I can’t remember what my birthdays were like before they showed up. Boring probably. Drunk. I’m pretty sure they were drunk.

New Years? We’re walking up the street around 8pm to a friend’s place for an hour, coming back home, putting girls to bed, lying on couch. Just a guess. If my sinuses stop draining by then, I’ll have a thimble of scotch or three. I have no tolerance anymore… just one.

I am ready to start the new year. Hello twenty/ten. Where you been all my life? Is that 2010 in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

NORAD tracks santa

Shouldn’t we, as a country, be a bit more concerned about this Santa thing? I mean, S.A.N.T.A. What does that stand for? The fact that NORAD is tracking it should tell you something. I, for one, will not be letting this tipsy, fat, white, bearded man dressed in red felt, edged with white cotton balls in our house or ANYWHERE near my children. I’d rather have the Grinch himself over to steal our two foot tall Charlie Brown Christmas tree, covered in ornaments made of snack boxes and tin foil and roast beast. Santa gets weirder and fatter, more drunk and unpredictable by the year.

Today is day, what, day four? of house arrest by various scourges and the most recent blizzard. Luckily I had a shift in my brain yesterday morning. Where I would usually be yelling at the girls for any number of heinous toddlerish acts, yesterday I found myself, to my own surprise, reasoning with them, staying calm, coming up with solutions rather than just getting really pissed off. This is gonna be THE BEST CHRISTMAS EEEEEAAAAAVVVVVVVEEEEEERRRRRR!

Snow doggie

Beenie wanted to make a snow doggie instead of a snow man. We went out today around noon to check out the havoc the blizzard of ought’nine wrought on charm city. Wow. Watching it come down yesterday was like being in a boat, watching waves of snow and glitter wash over the once greenish landscape. Now the ground is white, all white, with a few bare branches of dried out summer plant skeletons poking out here and there. Really, there is no more ground, only marshmallow fluff. Really cold marshmallow fluff. It took about forty-five minutes just to get the girls dressed warmly enough to spend twenty minutes tromping around in the 2.5 foot plus snow drifts. Mimi got stuck and had to be rescued as she swept the sparkling white powder from post shovel mountains to the cleaned off sidewalk in front of the house. Beenie lost a boot. Both had their socks wrapped around their frozen little red hands, which I replaced twice for each of them during that fun foray into the outdoors. Or, rather, out to the outdoors.

I’ve had a few Jack Torrance moments during this forced internment. All domestic duties and no breaks makes mommy want to jump into a glacier made of vodka. The cruelest part of this being I’m still getting over a two week scourge, which the girls have had, too, and my husband. And I don’t drink when I’m sick, or ever anymore, apparently. We’re all sort of half-coughing all the time, Mimi still gets up at least once a night hacking up a toddler lung, and the girls haven’t been to school since last Monday, a week ago, which means I have had NO BREAKS. Husband working all kinds of overtime toward a February deadline. And now we’re trapped in the house. This situation could break a weaker person, a person who hasn’t already been dealing with years of servitude to two three year olds, someone who isn’t used to being inside for days or weeks at a time. But I am seasoned — once I had twin babies to take care of, we stayed in the house for months after their September birth. Winter, infants… why bother? I had alcohol then, sure, but now I have people I can sometimes reason with. I’d make that trade any day. Infants don’t sleep. Not at the same time, when there are two of them. All they do is eat. And poop. They cry, too, lots, and they doze.

I ignored two art grant/opportunity deadlines in the past few weeks. Fuck ‘em. I am not in the mood for rejection. I’d rather just paint an hour a month like I do now and relish each brushstroke, turpentine fume, cadmium and cobalt. I need to finish some more artwork before I delve back into the grants world again. Not that I got any money when I was producing work, mind you.

The snow cleans up Baltimore real purty-like.

Two sizes, too small

The girls and I watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas this morning, during their convalescence from a number of ailments, nothing too serious as to bother mentioning, but serious enough not to send them to school today. Hence, TV in the a.m. which is a big NO-NO in this house. Only during illness are such blatant sloth-like activities allowed early in the day. But it was THE GRINCH, which at least gave it an edge. So much of an edge, in fact, that I was crying like a baby at intermittent moments through the entire short movie. I love the Grinch. I believe that show, seen in my childhood, gave me some perspective on my own family’s problems with the holiday, and, really, the culture at large’s issues, too. It is so pure, and beautiful. And a celebration of some sort is definitely warranted at the end of the year, no matter what your belief system or religion or what-have-you. It is just the right thing to do. Acknowledge the passing of a year. What we have defined as a year. Appropriate, to celebrate the end of shortened daylight, welcoming back the sun after it has wound down into winter.

Have yourself a merry little Winter Solstice, friends. Here comes the sun!