Plants, pajamas, pandemic

I was supposed to go to Oaxaca for a painting workshop this month. That didn't happen. But I kinda brought Oaxaca to me by re-inventing my balcony. Plant stand, rug, plants--check. Soon there will be a bench and an umbrella. This quarantine would be so much worse without ordering stuff on the internet.

 

This giant mess happened first though. Right in the middle of my kitchen. Yes, hi, it's me. I have not been kidnapped and replaced by an impostor. This is the first time I've attempted a gardening project without a proper outdoor space to work in. Even in my 400 sq. foot apartment in L.A. I had access to a hose because I was on the first floor. Here, I potted everything on the kitchen island, feeling like there would be a stern knock at the door and I would be arrested.  

So that mess got cleaned up and everything was wiped down and sanitized. Today I decided I would make a new mess...collage because I took a very brief online class last week about inspiration for collage and photomontage, and we are checking back in with our work tomorrow. I made the paper below that I collaged on a few months ago, and also did the letter press on it in the same workshop. Now it's a collage. I was able to use some of my marbled paper as well.

I'm working on a second collage too. It's inspired by a line I read, "You break the secret or the secret breaks you." I was really happy about having the blue door in my collage pile, but now I'm thinking it doesn't belong. Maybe it's all about the tree.
The trees are leafing out here. I've been trying to force myself outside since Sunday, and I haven't made it yet. In fact, it's almost 5 pm, and I'm still in my pajamas. This is a new thing. I've been showering and dressing everyday--wearing favorite earrings and a necklaces like life is normal. But maybe not getting dressed is normal now. How about you? Do you wear your pajamas all day? What are you doing to keep from weeping? Are you making things? Writing?  Baking? Are you feeling healthy?

Inside and Out

Last night's sunset looked like a scene from a disaster movie. Empty streets. Blood red sky.

But inside on the kitchen island there are tulips because I pre-ordered and pre-paid for them at the neighborhood farmers' market and simply had to sweep by and scoop up the wrapper with my name on it.

This is the not close-up version with the kitchen island devoted to making hand-marbled paper book covers. I think I will post a picture soon of all the journals I've made. I think of them as Corona diaries. If you want one, you can private message me, saying which one. Some are very tiny, and I imagine them as "It's the little things" records of what has gotten you through this so far....or what is destroying you. Of course as much as I would like to send these things I've made to you, it means I have to go to the post office. Sigh. (see previous post) I hope to have the full array displayed in the next blog post.

My anxiety is better today. (How's yours?) Probably because I have not put on a mask in an attempt to go out. I had a lovely chat with a friend today wherein I explained that having been nearly strangled to death by an acquaintance decades ago, I don't do well with my mouth and nose covered, or the feeling that my air supply is restricted.

A couple of days ago as I was talking on the phone with my younger daughter M., I was describing to her the shape of the plant stand I wanted for my balcony (plants are super important to me right now) and she emailed me a photo of one from Target which turned out to be perfect. I ordered it online and it arrived in our building's package room a day later. I was going to live the big city life--one token plant on the balcony. Now I want more, more, more.

There's so much to do in any given day. How was your day? xo

Report from Pillville: Possums, Pills, Psilocybin, and Other Fine Things

I'm feeling incredibly accomplished.

I have three weeks worth of pills in pillboxes for my mom. I've been doing her pill sorting for several months now, and it only recently occurred to me that I could purchase additional pillboxes instead of refilling one box every week.

And because my mom eats about a quarter cup of jam on her toast every morning, I now have at least a dozen empty jam jars which means that I can pour out a couple weeks worth of martinis instead of doing that every few days.

So the drug and alcohol situation around here is awesome.

If I could just get my hands on some psilocybin, I think my world could quite possibly be transformed. I come so close sometimes to sensing the depth of my situation here as a caregiver. I know in my heart that it's an honor, a privilege, a true act of love, but it's so hard to hold onto that  minute by minute. Sometimes I feel it. A look in her eyes as she looks at me. That thread that pulls tight with something she says. And then it snaps, so frayed that I can't catch hold of it.

There's a possum hidin' in there.

Last night we had a long talk about possums. I wikipediaed the hell out of the subject at the dinner table. She's so curious about the possums in the pot. Just recently she's given up hunting down the booze and now I feel like I have to do possum patrol.

When my girls were little I got them a hamster. We got the furry little beast and the cage and the supplies upstairs to their room. "Do not pick her up or touch her," I said as I dashed downstairs to get some thing or another needed for the project of installing the hamster. You know what comes next. A scream, of course. By the time I ran up the steps, there was a trail of blood from the bedroom to the bathroom. I wonder how many caregivers have gotten the instruction not to let their patient try feeding the possum jam and toast. I'll try not to laugh when I say it to one of our near-palindromic duo (Amy and Mea are their names) arrives. And dear god of small furry things, watch over my mother. And the possum. Because when she's not talking about feeding it, she's considering that maybe it should be drowned in "the river."

Other accomplishments include a recovered chair seat so that it matches the decor. One way to know for sure that I've been body snatched is that I'll stop caring if things match. And I have houseplants. And M sent roses to my mom and to me for Valentine's Day yesterday.

Awesomeness, right? I really hope the next post is not about possums.

Flora and Fauna

I love my place here in Margaritaville. But it's not without its drawbacks. The houses are sandwiched together--a feature I disliked from the moment I saw the place. Today, after three months of living here, I did something about it.

In a month or two the honeysuckle will completely obscure the block wall and the neighbor's window. The hummingbirds have already given their stamp of approval.

I was inspired by the project I did yesterday as a birthday present for my mom.

As the plants grow fuller and taller, the view from her room will get better and better.

The dining room and living room side windows now look like this:

And now for the fauna:

Piper gets fresh water in her water bowl a couple of times a day. But what she really likes is a glass of water served in the living room.