Happy Week - Thursday

I know I'm actually running a day behind & this will mean two posts today, but honestly, I'm not sure I could have posted a happy week entry yesterday if I'd tried. It was a bad day, coupled with not getting my Zoloft refilled in a timely fashion which resulted in my being a slight wreck.

But, throughout the course of the day, I was reminded of something, or rather certain someones, who make me happy. My friends.

I'm not talking about fair weather friends, acquaintances or the like, not that they don't have their places in each of our lives, since I do, truly, believe that everything happens for a reason. I mean the friends who tell it like it is, know what you're going through, pick you up when you fall, dust you off and help you get back on your feet.

There's Dawn... wow, where to start. This girl, woman, crazy insane chick calls me her best friend and vice versa. I don't know what I'd do without her. Dawn and I met in 1998 when we both worked at Office Depot, Business Services Division (an office, not a sales floor, thankyouverymuch). I have never clicked with anyone like this before or since. I swear we've known each other in past lives. From 2000 miles away, she can call me and ask me what's going on - why am I upset? I'll call her and tell her to quit emoting because I'm feeling it across the country. She tells it like it is and doesn't sugar coat it and I do the same for her. I love her, seriously, in a "I will do anything for this woman" kind of way. I think the heavens for her. Our biggest problem is that we don't get to see each other enough, since I'm in Kentucky and she's in California.

My mom. Yes, she's my mom, but she's also one of the best friends a person can have. She's honest with me when I don't want to hear it, compassionate and there for hugs when I need them and there for a laugh when I need to be picked up. She's a beautiful soul who puts up with more crap than she should, but that's just the way she is.

Lega. He'll probably kill me for mentioning him, but he's a bright spot in my life. I can have intelligent conversations, meet him for a drink or just zone out. If he knows I'm having a craptastic day, he'll come over bearing Monty Python. He's good for giving me a hard way to go!

Paul. We might not be married anymore, but he remains one of my best friends. We can still crack jokes with each other, discuss our daughter's trials and accomplishments and call each other if we need something. I treasure his friendship.

Patty. I've known Patty since high school (um... 1992), through college and beyond, but it's really only in the last several years that she and I have truly connected on a "what in the world would I do without her?" level. We entertain each other in the mornings with emails, kvetch at lunch, offer advice and support on jewelry making techniques and understand raising a child as working moms. She's supportive, honest and I'm damn lucky to have her in my life.

Chris. He's always been up front with me, given me good advice and offered a smile when needed. We don't always see eye to eye and we've definitely pissed each other off, but that just happens to be the way that our friendship works.

Amber. My daughter, my life, my friend. I hope that she and I can continue to have the kind of relationship my mother and I have throughout the years.

There are others out there - Kassy, my coworkers at the library, the insane people at the radio station, fun people at the Chamber, etc.... people who have blessed my life in some way. They have shaped me and allowed me into their lives. I thank them for that.

Happy Week, Wednesday

Thinking about things that make me happy has been an odd kind of homework assignment. We spend so much of our time focusing on what we "need" to fix or what's wrong that we forget about everything else.

There are times when I'm at peace, when I can allow myself to be calm and feel without going over the edge one way or the other. I might not be bouncing off the walls jubilant, but the world is right and life is good. This is happiness. How do I classify this? Is it one thing that does it? No, I know of several off the bat, but one stands out, especially with my upbringing and education.

Art.

Mark Rothko Red Orange Tan Purple

Be it creating, viewing or even just thinking about it, art makes me happy. I can be angry and focus that energy on a piece and be calmed. I can listen to music and put my feelings about the lyrics or music onto canvas. Letting my fingers sink into clay as I sculpt is pure bliss.

Edgar Degas, Little Dancer, Age 14 (La Petite Danseuse de Quatorze Ans)

I love walking around art museums and galleries. When I lived in Southern California, I would make frequent trips to the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena. Their collection of Impressionist art was quite large and I loved visiting Degas' Little Dancer, Age 14. There was something about her that spoke to me, as well as Degas' chalk pastels. I enjoyed seeing the strips of paper he would add on to the side because he wasn't happy with the composition and thought a piece needed to be larger this way or that.

I took trips to Chicago to see the Degas & Monet retrospectives, as well as to LA to see the Van Gogh exhibit. These artists were passionate. Their emotions were conveyed through the years to me through their brushstrokes on canvas, use of color or fingerprints in clay.

Judy Chicago, The Dinner Party

I'll never forget stepping into the Armand Hammer Museum in Los Angeles. I was working on a project for college, taking slides of works for my own catalog. There happened to be a Feminist art exhibit, featuring the Guerilla Girls, Miriam Shapiro and others. I was stunned. I was... I was happy. Seeing these women take on art as a social medium just blew my mind. What I didn't know was that a life-changing exhibit had been brought out of storage and was on display in the lower portion of the museum. There... there before me was Judy Chicago's The Dinner Party. I smiled, I cried, I rejoyced at what I saw before me.

I knew then and there what had been buried within me and who I was. I was, am and will always be an artist in some way, shape or form. That knowledge, plus seeing art from the masters, lesser knowns, those just starting, my friends and even my daughter, that makes me happy.

Happy Week - Tuesday

Yesterday's happy post featuring Amber was easy to do. Trying to figure out today has been off & on my mind through working at the gallery & the library.

I suppose it should have hit me like a ton of bricks, or at the very least, a cascade of seed beads. Beads. They make me happy. I can't pass the vials of tiny seed beads without stopping to see if there's a color that catches my eye. I see beads or findings and think about how I can put them together. Most of the time I start a project not knowing where I'm going. I pick out colors that I like and see what comes along or buy a bead buy another artisan and see what I can do to enhance the beauty of that piece.

I started beading almost 7 years ago. It would have been September of 2002 when I got pregnant and it was shortly thereafter that I found out. One of the first things that happened was my OB/GYN kicking me out of my studio where I painted. I searched for an outlet and came across Bead&Button in a local store. I figured what the heck, bought it and some inexpensive beads.

What started as stringing and learning basic techniques has escalated into an obsession with beads of all kinds - gemstone, crystal, polymer, silver clay, lampwork, but mostly, my tiny little seed beads. I adore all of the vials of Delicas and boxes of Czech seed beads in various sizes that hang on the pegboard on my wall. I relish learning new techniques and seeing what pops into my head.

My favorite way to bead is just to let go and let it be. Freeform work used to frighten me, but asymmetrical pieces and those that just make themselves up as they go along now thrill me. There are exceptions to the "rule" (like my love of beaded beads), but for the most part, I just let the beads tell me where they want to go. It is said that Michelangelo spoke that his sculptures were inside the marble already. I'm not saying I'm Michelanglo by any means, but I feel that way about my beadwork much of the time. They move me where they want to go. Heaven help me if I try to make them do something they don't want to!

Monday of Happy Week!

I almost forgot about Happy Week, as I've been dragging today, my body a little wilted from the Woodland Art over the weekend. I did well, not gangbusters, but I sold some of my favorite one of a kind pieces, including my crazy quilt bracelets.

What makes me happy? #1 is my daughter, Amber. I never really thought of myself as the "motherly" type and probably still wouldn't classify myself that way. Nothing in this world makes me as happy as this crazy kid. She extremely sharp, funny and talented. When she hugs me or wants to love on me, nothing else matters.

There are times when she reminds of me of myself, other times when I can see her dad in her. She cracks me up when I hear my grandmother's laugh come out. That belly laugh and cackle are like my Meemaw is here, smiling at me from somewhere beyond.

I'm sure as she gets older, we'll butt heads about boys, dating, curfews and the like, but until then, I'll take the arguments about school day bedtimes , sugar intake and how long she can play in the shower. If she takes after me even more, I'm sure she'll tell me how I'm wrong and verify everything with her teachers, just like I did to my mom.

I love her more than I ever thought I could possibly love anyone or anything.