There is a light...

The CEO and family are moving office. Finally. This is my last day in that building with no toilets. I've begun to embrace my bathroom breaks, taking trips to Starbucks for a Caramel Macchiato or stopping at Trader Joe's and picking up ingredients for dinner. It is a great time to get errand running done. Bathroom breaks span an average of 40 minutes.

But alas! Today will be the last day for those stolen moments. When I go back to work on Tuesday, it will be in a different location, with of course its own set of problems (I can almost guarantee it). But I am not stressed out like the rest of the office. Because I KNOW. My end is near. The freelance is accumulating. The clients are approaching me out of nowhere. Approaching ME. That, my friends, is a novelty in my career. And not just one-off clients, but the kind that will give me recurring work. Exactly what I need.

Serendipity has been showing her face here and there, giving me comforting messages that I am on the right track. I am going places. I'm getting closer to the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel that was the Crazymakers.

I am pretty sure I'll swing right out of this confident mood into a scared, doubting one again before the time comes, but I have given myself a deadline so I'll have to snap out of it again. Stay tuned.

Nightmares

Last night my sleep was strewn with nightmares. And when I have nightmares, they are epic in length and intensity. I swear, they last for hours and I am completely engulfed by them, physically and emotionally. And whoever said that we dream in black and white has never been in one of my dreams, because last night I vividly remember purple wildflowers, green corn fields, a blue bicycle and red, red blood.

In my first dream I found myself trying to return a guide dog to his owner. The dog was a big fluffy yellow lab who had a hearing apparatus in his ear that allowed his owner to communicate with him from long distances. I was trying to tell his owner how to find Route 3 by speaking in the dog's ear like a telephone. I was going to meet his owner on Route 3 and return the dog to her there. But on my way I got terribly lost. I was in a neighborhood I did not recognize, and no one would give me directions as to how to get outta there. I was laughed at, even. At one point I pretended I was the blind person so that someone, anyone would take pity and help me find my way. As it were, I was on my own. I don't remember how that dream ended. I hope she got her doggie back.

The second dream was far more traumatic. It started out on the Delaware River in Philadelphia. I was on a canoe trip when I realized that I had to use the bathroom. Badly. Now, this is a recurring problem in my dreams because if I do in actuality need to go to the bathroom, it becomes a part of my dream. It becomes a Quest for a Working Toilet. I won't even tell you what kind of toilets I find in these dreams. It would be too much. So in my quest for a working toilet in Philadelphia last night, I ended up on South Street--a trendy, somewhat punk rock section of town where I spent many a weekend in my high school days. I could not find one store owner who would let me use their bathroom. Not one. Then the next thing I know, I am accompanied by one of my ex-boyfriends on my quest, and he's trying to buy me presents so that I'll take him back. I refuse all gifts. Then he needs a ride home. I comply, so long as that's all he's asking for, nothing more. Fine.

On the way to his house we hit all sorts of obstacles that make the trip incredibly long. Meanwhile he is pleading for me to give him a second chance. I refuse. I am not married in my dream, but somewhere in my mind I know that I will be marrying Andrew in the future, so I can not let this guy ruin that. Then in a twist of the road, he directs me to his mother's "new" house, as his parents had just gotten divorced and his mother was now living with a very mean lady friend. Very mean to me, that is.

The house was surrounded by thickets of orange Bittersweet. Ironically, this draws a correlation to a project that's been going on at the Day Job for a while now. Oooo, symbolism. All the while I still desperately need to use the bathroom. It is getting painful. So when we get to the ex's mother's house, I ask to use the bathroom, after which I plan to leave immediately. He pretends to agree, then tries to keep me from moving.

Now I realize that my car is gone and my only way home is to walk. Despite ex's pleas, I march on outta there. And then I realize how incredibly lost I am. In my misdirected walk home I acquire a bike, which gets me nowhere except more lost, more quickly. Things start to get weird and scary. The road is winding, it is steeper and darker. The corn fields on my right seem to be ripping themselves from out of the ground, and are coming at me like a huge tidal wave. I am practically drowning in cornstalks and plants and grass, and then I realize I am not alone. There is an obviously evil presence with me that I need to destroy. It is faceless, it is male, and it is saying horrible things. It is going to kill me... if I don't kill it first. It is a monster, in the worst sense of the word.

I find axes, cleavers and all sorts of farm-like tools around me, and I pick one up, and I begin to cut the evil thing into pieces. Hence the red blood.

Ok, now you are disturbed, aren't you. So was I. Why was this happening to me? Why would anyone want to kill me? Then ex-boyfriend shows up again, saying only he can help me, because there are more evil things on the path I am travelling, and only he knows the way back to safety. I am forced to trust him. I battle more demons. Then I end up just where I started--at ex's mother's house. By this time I am screaming, crying, and I really need to pee.

Somehow I manage to find someone who is willing to really help me. She gives me an RV to get myself out of that cursed, dangerous town. I make it on the road without ex discovering me. But then I have no idea where I am to go.

Then I woke up. Soaked in a cold sweat.

I probably lost you 4 paragraphs ago, but that's ok. I feel it helpful to voice my dreams while I still remember them. Usually Andrew is my audience (for as long as I can keep his attention... he knows how involved my dreams can be). This morning I was so disturbed I did not want to tell him at all. That's a first time for me!

Now, I think I can very easily interpret these dreams I had. Eerily enough. I know why I feel lost, scared and threatened. It is the sum of everything that is going on in my house, in my work, and in my future. I am petrified. I try to put on a brave face for those around me, even those closest to me. I feel pressure to be strong. But the truth is I am just as lost as anyone else. I am just as lost as Andrew. We're both lost together right now. But at least we are together.

Things are going to change real soon. I think it and I say it all the time, but at this point change is not a choice, it is necessary. It is also risky. But risks can be calculated. And that's where I am these days. Calculating.

Email is back up, and I am just getting to my emails from last week. Slowly. Baby steps.

Email Down

Please note that I am currently unable to access my email. So if you have sent me a message in the past 30 hours, chances are I haven't read it yet. Thank you!

Awesome Ski Trip Part II - the happy little details.

Well, firstly, I am a little glum today because I had to drop Maggie off at the animal hospital for her spaying this morning. She shook in my arms as I handed her over. I have never had to do something so hard. I guess last weekend was good practice--but there was no operation involved then.

But the best thing I can do is keep myself distracted, so let's review the rest of my photos from my trip to Hunter Mountain.



We stayed at the Fairlawn Inn, just half a mile from the slope entrance to the mountain. It is an authentic Victorian inn built in the late 1800s, and was restored from almost complete ruin. Our innkeeper, Chuck, was warm and welcoming, and very enthusiastic about the period Victorian decor.



The view from outside our room, which was once an ice house.



A peek inside our room, the "Willow" room. Warm and cozy, and with a gas fireplace for warming up after a long day on the slopes.



The dining room--even prettier than it looks here. Every morning we had a choice of delicious omelettes, french toast, pancakes, plus a plate of fresh fruit and a pastry. There was a selection of teas beyond belief. Mmmmmm I love breakfast.



Again, across the street from our B&B... the SIGNS. Two of them. That's right.



More penguins inside Snow Bird Ski and Board Shop!



Approaching Hunter Mountain on our last day. Cue the choir.



Oh yeeeah, I skied it, that's right, I skied it, I'm a Snowbird, it's my birthday, go Snowbird, it's your birthday...



Saying goodbye to the mountain after a really great day.



After that we had a really great night! This bar/restaurant called "Tequilas" was a few doors down from the inn, and after meeting some fine people after skiing the day before, we decided to have dinner there on our last night. Dinner and margaritas, that is...



And Mike, owner of Tequilas, was quite a storyteller. He's one of those people that you can instantly start up a conversation with, and feel like you've known him forever. Both of us kept saying, "Who does he remind me of? He reminds me of someone." Mike made us some kickin' poppers, shrimp fajitas and chicken burritos.



Meet Danielle, artist living in a parallel universe to my own. Believe it or not (and I am sure you can not), she has worked in a very similar situation to my Day Job. Eerily similar. Like, my CEO knows her ex-CEOs. Difference? I am sure she had heat, running water and workin toilets. Wiser than me, she quit in 6 months.

Danielle, you rock. And you make addictive margaritas. But I bet your jewelry is even more spectacular (and produces fewer hangovers). Don't give up. I want you to email me and keep me updated on your progress on your road to fancy she-she jewelry designer. Seriously!



Our picture, taken by Chuck after we checked out. "Go sit by my new lamp." He was very proud of that lamp. We were hungover, exhausted, feeling sad to leave... but entirely happy.

The End.

You know what I really loved best about our trip? I was proud of myself. I tried something new--two things, really--and I did not give up when I felt hopeless. For a moment on Friday, when I was sitting atop the bunny slope with my feet attached to that godawful snowboard, and the tears ran down my windburned cheeks, I thought: This trip is going to suck. I am never going to get it. I am never going to have fun. Andrew will have to ski all by himself for the rest of his life. I have let him down. At times in my life, I would have believed that voice and let it ruin my vacation. I would have spent the rest of the weekend couped up in our room, crying. It's true. But this time I did not let that happen. I ignored the voice of the Poopynannyhead inside, and listened to my inner child who really wanted to play and have fun in the snow. The next morning I set out with an open mind and strapped on some skis (once someone showed me how). I took it one baby step at a time. I did not worry about how old I was to be learning how to ski. I didn't care if I looked like an idiot. I did it anyway, and laughed at myself instead of scolding. I had fun playing in the snow.

I wanna do it again. And I know I will. And as a bonus, I will get better at it every time I do. That is inspiring.

*NEWS FLASH*
Maggie's surgery is over and she is in recovery. I will pick her up tomorrow morning. She is fine. :)

Snowbird Learns to Fly: The Cliff Notes

Friday morning after 4 hours of sleep and a pancake sugar rush: Ready for snowboarding lessons, feeling gung-ho and looking particularly dorky.



After my snowboarding lesson. I dropped out midway. I'm sorry.



Starting over on Saturday morning, "1st Timer" ski lessons: Learning how to ski like a one-footed zombie--Andrew took this picture when I wasn't looking. @#($%*&! Looking ridiculous but having fun.



Andrew, by the way, had just gotten back from skiing a double diamond after a 10 year haitus from skiing. Show off.



After my "Level 2" lesson--moving so fast you can't see me! But I think I look a little like a penguin.



Alright, that's better! By Sunday I am feeling like a pro... I mean... an intermediate. But feeling good, having fun, and experiencing a shot of confidence. Which is cool.



But still not as cool as Andrew...



Who was completely in his element. He blew me away. You should see him jump.

But by the end of Sunday I had graduated Level 4, learned parallel turns and had skied two blue trails! I felt like I was in my element as well and I did not want to leave.



And this ski shop was across the street from our B&B. Coincidence? I think NOT.

So I learned how to ski, and happily gave up snowboarding. But there are more details to share tomorrow.

I am Snowbird.

So our ski trip was awesome. I am very sad to be back in everyday life. So is Andrew. We had such a great time. Such a great time. Andrew is a natural born skier. He has told me what a great skier he used to be in his teens, and I have always believed him, but I never got to see him in action until this weekend. And he is. I mean, I am no expert, but he moves like those guys in the Olympics. He skies moguls. He does jumps off rocks. After 10 years out of practice, he was back on the double black diamonds in just half a day.

Me on the other hand... well my story was a bit more dramatic. I mean, not like melodramatic or dysfunctional. I mean I was crying on Friday but by Saturday I was soaring. Once I soared I couldn't stop.

I have pictures to post but I will have to do so when it is my "turn" to check my email at work. They're all sized up and ready to go.

I see big, good things coming out of this weekend.

Don't you come near my baby!

I am about to trek home for lunch, pick up my darling Maggie, and drop her off at the kennel for the weekend. I have butterflies in my stomach, the way I do when I am extremely nervous about something I am about to do. So I guess you could say I am nervous. Very, very nervous. It really did not sink in until just now.

Please help me feel better.

Ifs Ands Buts

I am Queen of Worst Case Scenarios, and worst case scenarios are all that my mind will formulate at this time. It is entirely frustrating. I can not stop.

What if I can't find enough freelance work to replace my lost income?

What if CEO finds out that I have taken all my best drawings home for safe keeping, and tries to sue me?

What if I can't get unemployment?

What if Andrew loses his job?

What if we can't pay our bills, our mortgage, our insurance?

What if the financial strain takes a toll on my marriage, my sanity?

What if I take the plunge... and sink? Rock bottom? Then what?

And at the same time... what if I never take the plunge? What if I never try? What if I keep trying to stay "safe" for the rest of my life, like a lot of miserable people I know?

Then what?

Finished Business

Now that the sketches for Chanda's House are in the hands of Katrina and Windstorm, I can exhale. Why was I holding my breath? Because for the last 3 months my personal naysayer, Miss Poopynannyhead, has taken advantage of every opportunity to tell me that "You'll never get it done!" and "There goes your little dream!" While Miss Poop is very convincing sometimes, it did not help that I was suddenly deluged with drop-deadlines for surprise freelance projects in the past 3 weeks. And I wish I had the luxury of turning all of them down, but I don't. I need the money, bad. And the projects were all really cool, so I clearly could not whine about them. I can only thank Idea Park and Posh Poochy for hooking me up, for choosing me as their "go-to" girl.

So I have been struggling with a Poopynannyhead full of anxiety (due to dire deadlines), guilt (for having to ask all my clients for extensions on those deadlines) and shame (because I am supposed to be perfect, dammit! I should not need extensions). But--BUT--all the while, even on my latest red-eyed nights at the drafting table (or on the couch, depending on my mood) there has been a comforting voice of reason, ready to extinguish the little tongues of doubt like birthday candles. In my past this girl was completely upstaged by Poppynannyhead and her self-doubt cabaret. But my little Snowbird, she has been doing her confidence exercises, she has been empowered by my willingness to take some risks for her. She wants to draw. I drew. This makes her feel good. This makes her stronger.

Ironically, things are getting worse at the day job. I know, you didn't think they could, but they did. We are permitted to stay in our building until February 28th... but without working plumbing or heat. The pipes need to be drained. Ok. So. Do you see where I am going with this? Good news is, CEO has invested in a bunch of space heaters to keep the circumference around each "employee" warmer than the rest of the 30 degree office space. I have two in my little corner. The bad news is... well, I--I am embarrassed to say it, so I will just spell it out. CEO is looking into renting a P-O-R-T-A P-O-T-T-Y. In the meantime, the closest bathroom is a mile up the road at the local Superfresh.

Yeah. Snowbird does not like this. I even think Poopynannyhead disapproves, but she's keeping that a secret.

Ok birdies... to those who have left your jobs in pursuit of your creative dreams, here is a question for you: How in the heck did you summon the courage to just DO it?

P.S. I will start answering my emails again shortly--just been too busy. Thanks for waiting!

Maggie, Guess Who's Comin'?!

The moment I say those words, she makes a mad dash for the front door and jumps up to look out, neck fully stretched and on her tippy toes. If the curtain is down, she brushes it madly aside with her left paw (resulting in some holes in that curtain...). She knows when I say "Guess who's comin'?" it means that Daddy is on his way. She'll stand there just like that until she sees him walk up the sidewalk. Or, she'll make another dash to the back door if he takes too long--maybe he's coming by car and entering in the rear? Or maybe he's not! Maybe he's coming in the front! And she darts back to the living room, sliding around corners on the hardwood floor.

When I step out and leave her with Andrew, she takes the same position at the door and watches me all the way to my car. I wave when I get in there, cause she's still pressed up against the glass panes. I can hear her bark as I turn the engine on. "Come back! Come back! Where are you going?! Why can't I come?!" According to Andrew, she continues this plea the ENTIRE TIME I AM OUT, and when I return, lo and behold, Maggie's is in the same position I left her. And by gawd, it is the cutest.

We've taught her to stay "OFF!" when we enter the door. It is difficult for her though. She'll try to get one jump-up in before we get a chance to say, "off," cause she knows it's coming. When commanded, she sits back on her haunches, tail stuck between her legs, but still quivering with anticipation. She maintains eye contact as best she can. She whimpers with sheer ecstacy that you are indeed, home. When I've finally got my coat and gloves off, I go to the kitchen and she follows behind, her nose connected to the back of my calf the entire way. When I stop, she sits, whimpers, quivers.

And then I release her from her command. I say, "YES! Good girl! OK!" and move down to my knees, but it is too late because she's already got her paws on my shoulders and her tongue in full-lap mode over my ENTIRE FACE. Nostrils and eyes are not off-limits, she goes all out. When she's satisfied with our greeting she runs off to fetch her toy of choice (this week it has been her "Toy," I didn't know what else to name it, it's just a plush thing with squeakers in it that looks like an asterik) and she drops it at my feet. Each toy has a different game. This Toy's game is "Ready? Ready? Catch!" Maggie will explain that one in her blog next week.

What I really love about working from home on Mondays and Fridays, is that my dog will not allow me to go all day without a break. She knows when it is lunch time, she knows when it is 10 minute break time, she knows when it is time to call it a day and go out for a walk. And I swear she knows when I am procrastinating. At times I'll get lost in a string of blog surfing, and before I realize it Maggie is perched on my stomach and very effectively blocking my entire view of the computer screen. When I move my head to the right, she moves her face in front of it. When I move left, she adjusts. She also does the same thing when I am trying to see the TV and she thinks it is just not the right time to be watching TV. It is time to pay attention to what she has to say. And that is, "Look at me! I'm your beautiful dog and I love you!"

Such a dramatic difference than the atmosphere at dysfunctional day job. Which got even more dysfunctional as the week went by. But I'm home so I'm not going to talk about it. I'll leave that for next week when I'm back there again. If I go back.

Tonight we're having dinner with an old friend of mine named Jen and her boyfriend Dennis. Jen is a supremely talented illustrator who should really have her own website and share her work with the world, because it deserves to be seen. Jen is a little on the timid side though. She is taking her time. I can appreciate that. But I love her work so much!

Have a great weekend, and, again, Go BIRDS. An Eagles win means great parties for Kate!

Hit 'em low, hit 'em high...

My moods. Not very stable this week. It is funny how running out of my meds for just a few days at a time can completely turn me inside out. "WARNING–Do not cease taking this medication for any reason without the consent of your doctor, or else you might start getting dizzy spells and cry at the sight of your own puppy, then have nightmares that everyone you know and love has abandoned you." Right next to "Do not consume alcoholic beverages while using this medication" on one bottle, and "Do not discontinue consuming alcoholic beverages while taking this medication," on the other. I prefer the latter.

I'm not skipping my dosages on purpose. The problem has been that I have been without health insurance for the past month because CEO decided that I should start sharing the cost when he cut me down to part-time. Well F that, I said to myself, and I asked to be removed so I could join my husband's program. I ran out of meds again on Friday, but I haven't received my new insurance info yet with which to refill it. Hence the dizzy spells and crying on-demand.

So! There's me in a nutshell today. Compound that with the current no-heat situation at the office.. I was hoping the electric would be out today too, so I would have an excuse to go home. But alas, functioning electricity allows for the use of 10 space heaters. And they're just about as effective in here, in this 300 year old building, as they would be outside in the ice-glazed parking lot. My toes are curled up in my boots so as to somehow derive warmth from each other. Not really working.

So this complaining stuff is not really making things better. Ok. I will be more proactive and make a list of somethings good. Somethings like--



1. Girl Scout cookies... Samoas in particular. I like to scrape the caramelly goodness off the top of the cookie with my two front teeth, then eat the remaining chocolate dipped crunchery. Or, take a bite, then dip the rest in a glass of cold whole milk... letting the milk seep in there real good, then gobble it down, Cookie Monster style.



2. Mini birdie and flower magnets from Tania on my memo board at home. Oh sweet littleness!


3. The 2005 Winter Games for Beagles--new games Maggie has concocted to fight the winter duldrums, and distract me from my work. To be continued at Me, Maggie.

4. Bono singing: Freedom has the scent/ Like the top of a newborn baby's head... Does anyone have any front row tickets for the upcoming U2 tour that they'd like to donate to support my mental well-being? I'm sure that has to qualify as a tax deduction.

5. A super surprise! Andrew called me today and informed me that we will be taking a long weekend to go skiing for Valentine's Day. Ok. Nevermind that I have never skied before. And forget that Andrew has over 15 years of skiing experience under his belt. Nor mind my lack of ski gear--except some fine snowboarding mittens I bought last year. And ignore the fact that the whole concept of speeding down a hill without brakes or airbags frightens me. Question: To ski or to snowboard? I have always been curious about snowboarding (I was a bit of a skateboarder in high school) but do I want to be strapped to a board when Andrew and everyone I will ever take a ski trip with is on skis? Will this be problematic when I don't want to be alone on a mountain? I hate feeling left out. But snowboarders have much better clothes, definitely better hair. (I never claimed to be a Sporty Spice!)

6. Eagles. Not only the avian variety which of course I adore, but also the team that will win the Super Bowl on Sunday. That's right. They will win. I don't care what the odds are. Mark my words, those Eagles will fly. Why? Because I am going to be wearing my Dawkin's jersey, my logo skull cap and my cute little Eagles tee. Maggie will be wearing her green leather collar. Andrew will wear his new skull cap and he will clutch his lucky football for dear life the entire game. I swear it works. I don't have to be Sporty Spice to know that.


Maureen and Andy, tailgating in the parking lot--which had been cleared of 18 inches of snow for the occasion.

See? 2 weeks ago three of my little siblings enjoyed the NFC championship game in Philly, and their various layers of Eagles gear obviously made all the difference in the outcome:


Meggie the birthday girl wishing for victory.


Andy sheds a tear during the National Anthem. See that hat? My dad had me wear that in the 70s.


Meg and Andy just before the game. See any resemblence?


The team rushes the field as Meggie's wish comes true.

So there you have it. Go birds. Where will you be when the Eagles win?

Ok, I feel better now. :)

Illustration Friday: Friendship

Three Friends ©1999 Catherine Erin Hamilton (that's me)

I was happy to receive the weekly notice of the topic for Illustration Friday today, because I actually had something in my archives that fit the subject, "Friendship." I did this illustration a while ago--in 1999--for a children's music CD cover. The compilation CD was called, "Celebrate Friends" and included songs by the Sugarbeats and Trout Fishing in America (my favorite!). If it was still in print I'd give you the link, but it went out of print when the publisher, Zany Brainy, went out of business. But that's a sad story, and friendship is not sad, so let's just think about what a treasure friendship really is and forget about the rest.