Tag Archives: bravery

Hula hooping leads to job offers

 

Get your nerd on

World's smallest sundae

 

 

 

When I was in college they opened an Ed Debevic’s here in Denver. For those of you who have never been to one, it’s a 50’s theme diner where all the wait staff is surly and rude and everyone is in costume and covered in flair. I was so excited. It was a childhood dream of mine to work there and serve the world’s smallest sundae. I went to the auditions and go the job based on my extraordinary hula hooping skills. That job was so damn fun. I had two personae, a nerd and a house wife ( a real stretch for me) complete with wigs and vintage circle skirts, and no less than 15 pieces of flare (you can give the screen the finger now). I even got to DJ a Motown night on Fridays. Every so often, we would have to hop up on the counter to dance. Proud Mary just came on and I can remember every step.

 

Day fifty-two

Day fifty-three

Milo, Day fifty-three, Lily Pad

Milo, day fifty-four

Typically, I’m not really a very spontaneous person. I like to know where I’m going, how long it will take to get there, what time we’re supposed to arrive and how long we’ll be. Fun right? All of my recent perfection posts have led me to this one. Now that my house is clean and in order, I have more time for spontaneity .This on e is about saying F-it and doing what you want.

day fifty-four

Day fifty-five

I want to be a working artist. I want my work in galleries and I want people I’ve never met to look at my work and want to buy it. So how do I make that happen? Sadly, my current approach of sitting on my couch hoping that somehow my phone will magically ring and it will be the Guggenheim on the other end has not worked out so well. Guess I’ll have to pull myself up by my bootstraps. I’ve finally realized that nothing will happen to me if I don’t get gallery representation or if I get rejected. Life is pretty darn good, I’m happy with my work and I’m willing to put in the leg work to convince strangers to believe in my art. I don’t think I’ve ever had this feeling before.  Something about being a mom, I think. I’m down to fail and I’m down to succeed. I’m just not down to sit around and wish I had tried.  I wouldn’t want my kids to have regrets, why should I?

I do all my correspondence with this elegant cobra pen

Hot toddy, check. Banana bread and orange, check. Poorly organized checklist, check.

Milo, Day fifty-five, Our House

I called a bunch of galleries and figured out the submission process for a bunch more. Now for the tedious task of finishing my artist’s statement and sexing up the ole’ resume. My prestigious showing history of one coffee shop/restaurant/bar show per year for the past seven years should really entice those collectors. We’ve all got to start somewhere.  I’m taking it up a notch, time to hula hoop for my life.  I can also roller skate, I wonder if that’ll come in handy?

FYI readers:

From now on I will be posting on Wednesday and Saturdays.

Virtual First Friday on Nov. 5th (free shipping if you pre-order anything from days 31-60! Just message me)!

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Swim fish, swim

Big hand, small hand

Day fourteen

Day fourteen, Milo is still in his blue period

Day fifteen

Day fifteen-Milo (I wish I could say I painted this...)

Day sixteen

Day Sixteen-Milo, this one's for Dada

"you can do this."

As Milo was falling into a coma like sleep that only swimming twice in one day can bring on, I was thinking about when I gave birth to my boys. There was this point in the process where both times I felt as though I was being overtaken by the contractions and that something terrible was surely going to happen if I allowed myself to be engulfed by it. Then, both times right at that exact moment, Jon whispered in my ear, “you can do this.” calm, quiet, not demanding, not in any condescending tone. He just reminded me of what I already knew. I was built to do this. I am a woman and this is something I can do. And here they are. I birthed two boys with no drugs. But that’s not the hard part. Raising them for the rest of their lives is the hard part.

Milo just started swim lessons and was terrified the first day. The, a bit on the loud side, tattooed instructor hopped on red bull didn’t really help…But the second time he did better and wasn’t quite so scared. And by the time we were in the pool with Dad and Uncle Daniel he was showing off and sticking his face underwater. Does he know how to swim yet? No. Will he learn? Yes. When you swim you have to keep working, putting forth effort or you sink. Sink or swim people. I felt a little like I was sinking today.  I have this belly ache that won’t go away and, but, and so forth…no excuses. The hard part might not be the learning how. It might be the doing.

And then…like that darn little fish knew is was thinking about swimming…When I was in the kitchen just before Milo went to bed I noticed that one of the beta fish we have left over from a drawing project I did with my students last year had kicked the bucket. I told myself that I would handle it later. I just went down to finish up a painting and the dang thing is swimming around again! Was she sleeping on her side? Taking a rest? Back from the dead? I don’t know but I whispered into little Tesla fish’s bowl, “you can do this.”

Keep scrolling down for more pics.

“Mommy, you have to be brave.”

My brave little mascot

Day Twelve

Day Twelve, Milo told me he was frustrated and that's why he drew this.

Day thirteen, Milo

Day thirteen

Milo has this tendency to refuse to do something if he can’t do it well. He lost it the other day because he couldn’t mix a dark enough shade of blue and went to his room screaming, “I’m an artist and artists paint!” He refused to put his pants on today because he said he couldn’t quite get the elastic waistband of his Super Friends undies to sit right. Mmmhm, I wonder where he gets it from?

I was one of those kids in the gifted and talented classes; we were making Lego robots and rewriting Greek tragedies in the fourth grade. My parents and teachers were always telling me how smart and bright I was. School wasn’t that hard and most things came easy to me. Did I go to an Ivy League school or top notch art school? Nope. If I stuck around Colorado and didn’t really try, none of my shortcomings would be revealed. I could just keep on doing the big fish in a small pond thing. I’m not saying that I’m not happy here and I’m not saying that being an art teacher isn’t something I’m passionate about. I love my life but… I’ve always had that sneaking voice in my head that tells me that I could be living a much bigger life. Being brave and willing to fail are not things I’m used to, yet.

God forbid someone be better than me at something. God forbid that I fail and worst of all, fail when people are watching. Well, if I want my kids to be risk takers, be hard workers and be able to recover from failure and disappointment, I better get on with learning those lessons myself.

Today was Milo’s second day of preschool and his dad dropped him off. I wanted to go pick him up because I missed the little guy. When I got there he was bummed because he wanted his dad. He told me as I was helping him into his jammies that I would have to be brave next time and that I shouldn’t worry because he and Daddy would always come back because they loved me. I can be brave and be loved. This is an entirely fresh concept to me. I think I’ll marinate on it while I make a few more brave marks on these pieces of paper. Yellow seems like a brave choice, doesn’t it?