As you can see Ray is still being all cuddly and adorable. I swear these cats, especially him, were sent to pull the love through me like a straw. I know it's good for me on some deep level, physically and otherwise. I love Ray so much, I sometimes worry about outliving him. That's always part of the deal with pets. But I just trust there will be another special pet when the time comes, and don't let it stop my intense feelings for him.
I have never regretted or second-guessed that choice. It has been a certainty I've known inside since being a kid myself, so have no idea about maternal instincts, only that they must be some overwhelming drive in most people to make it such a big deal to so many.
My ~metal death-ball/ leggo-baby situation~ has turned out to be kind of for real. Apparently I have a few squatters that have taken up residence in what I'm sure to them looked like a perfectly decent place no one was even using. I was calling them the world's ugliest puppies for a couple days before I began to gross- out even myself. They are benign growths that are very common, especially in women about my age. Mine have gotten big enough to be a major pain in the ass, make that in the gut, and need to go. This means some superfluous (in my case) lady-parts also need to go.
This doesn't bother me in the least, but is one of those weird mileposts of *never* you find yourself passing as you age. I was a bit bummed when I turned 35 to hear the FBI would no longer consider me too. This wasn't something I actually wanted to do, but still, I have one of those personalities that doesn't like to be told "no", or what to do at all for that matter.
But this is all good. I won't be knocked out of commission for days at a time anymore, and the recovery time will be perfect for finally doing those online classes I signed-up for.
Been doing a little time-travelling this week. I'm preparing a bunch of material to apply for a publicly funded commission. I normally don't have to pursue jobs, they come to me, but it's kind of a fun process.
Here's a shot of another commission I did about 6 years ago for Hennepin County Medical Center. I had to learn how to do stained glass to do it, but it came out awesome. That's my dad walking through the shot in the background.
Some doors have closed to me as I've aged. Some I've closed myself. There are things I used to hold out as life goals I've let go of, or postponed. Whether it's a sell-out or not it doesn't feel terrible. I'm complacent about those. I'm not a published author (yet). I have never learned to ride big scary stuff mountain biking, like rock gardens, and big jumps etc. I maybe still could, but have chosen self-preservation over the ego boost of being the rad-est old lady at the trail. For now anyway.
Plus, now at this age, my confidence has become validated, bacause of experience.
I took a little field trip to the Walker this week to check out a graphics show. The Walker is our city's modern art museum. There are some cool things there, but a lot of what I consider total erudite, over-intellectualized bullshit. There are tons of people (mostly with degrees) who will argue that opinion, but I've always felt your art should speak for itself, and doesn't have to have any big meaning or point to make to be relevant.
When I visited this place early in my career, I felt the same way, but also felt like an outsider who would never be considered a "real artist" probably, because of this. But now all these years later, what do you know. People, lucky for me, pay me for my art. Guess it turned out okay after all. :)
Most things do huh?