Surgery Week One

 

Here we are, with a shiny new metallic hip. And, with a shitload of pills. The folks at the hospital couldn't have been nicer. Awkwardly, the parent of one of my former students was in charge of shaving my hip area, cleaning it, and prepping it for surgery. Won't be able to look her in the eye anymore, for sure. Also, another mom from a past student was in the surgery post-op room. She was so kind. 

I've never had an operation before. It was weird being wheeled into the operating room, just like in the movies. Having the needle placed into my slouchy spine was even more weird. When I woke up, I was having a dream about cartoon deer and cartoon rabbits, from the 1950's. That's about how my brain works, I guess...

It has been hard to stay up and moving. And, to shower. My best friends, and my sister have kindly stayed with me. And, my delightful work friend and her son have stopped by each morning to do my bidding, and to care for the pups. My sister hired a kind woman to stay with me for four hours each day. She coaches me on how to bathe, and makes sure that I'm being safe. She was bored, and decided to clean my stove, and my fridge. 

My OCD is flaring hard, to be honest. Hoping that things will start to head back to normal in the next few weeks. I'll keep you posted. Maybe I'll make some mental changes, and create some new neural pathways?! Or, maybe I'll be like my cat, Eugene, and just sit in the middle of the kitchen at 2 a.m., and meow about the changes. He and I are both creatures of habit.

Times That Try Men's Souls

Our valley is reeling. A levee broke, and flooded the city of Pajaro, on the edge of the local river which heads to the Pacific Ocean. The rain storm caused my school to have to be evacuated on Friday. The streets surrounding my school fill up with water from the Salsipuedes Creek with extreme rainfall. Also, our school is only a few blocks from the larger Pajaro River. I am worrying about the friends and the families that I know in Pajaro. I am praying for their safety. The levee broke down on Saturday morning. As with the recent wildfires, it is such a feeling of helplessness.  

My body is physically unable to do anything useful. This morning, I woke up at about an "8" on the pain scale. Even filling the water bowls for the dogs hurts. I have to be ready to go back to school, and to provide comfort, and stability to my students. Some of them were very stressed on Thursday, when we heard that school was cancelled on Friday. Many experienced the flooding in December, and were worried about safety. There is a distinct feeling of being "let down" by infrastructure. I realize that building on a flood plain is a precarious business. But, why were the levees not adequately reinforced? They were built in the 1940's, and the area certainly has a history of frequent flooding.  

Working on glazing some pieces helps to take the edge off of the pain. Hoping that as a community, we can rise to the occasion, and aid those in need. Thinking of all of the jobs that will be lost, due to the crops being ruined. Hoping to figure out a way to help.

 

Broken, But Not Beaten

I haven't been on here for a while... After months of scheduling doctor visits, I've finally been told that my right hip needs to be replaced. I was given a shot in my hip socket, and it lasted a month. Currently, the waves of pain are returning. My knee still isn't working properly after the scooter accident. But, there is a need to prioritize the problems.  

In the meantime, the pain has not stopped me from working in the shed. I also finally replaced my old kiln. This means that my work no longer needs troubleshooting after each firing. This is such an incredible relief. The new kiln is smaller. So, I can fire less work, and everything cools quickly. This is in keeping with my new artistic mission statement. No more shows. No more galleries. No more.

It feels good to simply hobble out to the shed to make whatever happens to strike my fancy. I'm making less, and feeling more.

 

Art for Just Me

Well, I'm back to making art after a wildly unsuccessful Open Studios. I have decided that I'm not going to show art anymore, for a long while. It was also physically so taxing. I am five days away from a much needed Orthopedic Clinic visit, after a scooter accident in July. So, I'm back to making. But, I'm making what I like, and making things that will probably amuse only me. This brings me happiness, and a wonderful lack of pressure. I'm going to paint, collage, sew, sculpt, carve, and anything else that strikes my fancy...

It is time to start prepping for our school's Holiday Craft Faire. So, I'm getting cup saucers ready, recycling a bag of nearly dry clay from last year. We're also going to sell some ornaments. So, those will get fired with our holiday cups/mugs. Each student makes one cup to keep (to give as a gift), and one cup to sell. Almost all of our cups are drying in my garage... 

I'm excited to make some shrines for the family creche that I inherited from my parents, and my siblings. The former creche was falling apart, but all of the figures are lovely. I hope to include them in a worthy project, or projects. Winston and Graham are studio helpers. Graham did not want to leave at the end of today's work session.

 

Floral Sculptures

I've been listening to this book, while working in the shed this week. My sister gave me the book version a while back, and I'm finally getting to it, by listening... It is a meditation on plants. It is fantastic! And, it is perfect background for carving roses, and forming wreaths. 

And now, I'm back in the house, listening to the hearings. I need some closure, and I need some consequences. It is not good to listen to this kind of information when making. Positivity is required. So, it's break time.  

 

Deep in the Mermaid Tank

I am not doing very well. School is out, and with little distraction, I'm thinking way too hard. I'm watching our country tear itself to pieces, which causes me to doom scroll for long periods of time. My heart is hurting.

One cure for depression is art. So, I've been toiling away. I've diversified into painting, basket making, ceramics, and a bit of needlework. Also, there is a lot of dog and cat snuggling. This week, I'm heading into exercise territory, but low effort because of joint pain. And, there will soon be scooter rides in nature with my sketchbook.

It's easy to lie in bed, and to feel sad about being unable to visit my dad. And, my body wants to stop moving, because it aches. I'm trying to at least read while being inactive. Also, I've been listening to some great audio books: "Braiding Sweetgrass", "These Precious Days", and "All Things Bright and Beautiful"... A new clay body in the shed is leading to constant discovery. I'm fully driving down the terra cotta road. It seems to fire better at my low temperature.

With each day, I'm striving to feel like less of a mermaid, muffled away in a glass tank. I want to hear, see, and feel. There are good days, and bad ones. Art saves.

  

 

Whose Prayers?

 

This morning, I woke up to find that performative prayer at school is now okay. 

I have been teaching for 24 years, and have always been very careful to keep my beliefs a mystery to my students. I am responsible for teaching facts. I teach math, literacy, history, science, and art. Students are very easily influenced by their teachers. And, that is why I stick to the facts. Just the facts.

I am a religious person. I pray regularly, and I always have a prayer in my heart each day, asking for help with my job. It is easy to say or do the wrong thing when working with kids. Frankly, I constantly need help, because how I conduct myself at school matters greatly.

The coach who performed his prayers on the fifty yard line was misguided. In my opinion, prayer is personal. In fact, it is so personal, that every religion has its own form of communication to God. Some prayers are chants. Some are hymns. Back in college, I took a semester of "Religions of the World". Believe me, prayer is a highly varied activity.

I grew up in a home where prayer was key. My mom got on her knees each night and prayed. My father gave us priesthood blessings. As a child, I remember overhearing my grandma ask my grandpa to pray for her, because she was having a difficult time breathing in bed one night. Eavesdropping on his prayer made me tear up; he was so earnest, and his prayer showed so much love for her. Our family prayed over our food each night. That particular prayer was not very sincere, and became almost rote. Considering my mom's cooking, we probably should have dug deeper. Seriously, I have had my prayers answered in profound, and deeply moving spiritual ways. 

So, now that the Supreme Court has decided that performative prayer at a school event is allowed, whose prayers will we say at school? Will we pray in class? Will we have a new addition to the jobs bulletin board? What about students who are atheists? 

We are a country that believes in a separation between church and state. Will I be expected to master Muslim prayers? Buddhist prayers? Taoist prayers? Will we spin a wheel to decide? 

Nope. This is pure folly. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs, their own thoughts, and their own personal communication with God. And, that is the beauty of America.