Weekly Penny Positive

I just finished this happy BugBoy.  It’s hard to believe he’s the 90th Penny Positive I’ve made. They save me from myself.

Another Dose of Penny Positive

I need some good juju this morning, but I’ll share.

The Weekly Penny Positive

I give up trying to do this on a particular day.  The Positive Vibes are not flowing, but maybe this will help.

In the Gray

I’ve shared this journal spread a couple other places, so I’m sorry if its old news.  But this is where I am—in the Gray of disconnect and apathy.  Gray doesn’t carry the anguish or hopelessness of The Black.  It’s colorless and adrift, lonely while being intolerant of companionship, and capable of being distracted without too much effort.

I Don’t Care is the name of a restaurant here in Muskogee (as in “Where do you want to eat?”  Answer: “I don’t care.”). I think it’s a horrible name for a place of business, but it suits me as an anthem right now.  Maybe I do care a lot, and it’s easier to say I don’t.  I’d have to expend too much energy to dig out the truth of it.  Just doesn’t seem worth the effort.

So, I will pass time.  Mark time.  Exist.  Hard to tell in the mist.

Penny Positive Monday

I need this as much as anyone today.

Keeping it Simple (Postcard, paper, glue stick, repeat).

A Normal Day

Normal.  My normal.  Making.  Allowing.  Taking delight in both.

This morning’s batch of new background papers for cards.

A bag of magazines from the library awaits my snips.

Pages from 100-year-old almanacs rehydrate on the kitchen counter.

I’m pondering how to make “month” cards along with the zodiac line I already have.  January, February… what might be beautiful? What might be meaningful? Clues in the old almanacs I’ve snipped apart.  Clues in poetry.  Clues in color.

Glue cards make their way to Etsy customers, but I might have to keep this one.

And in a little bit, I go get a massage.

A lovely, normal day.

 

 

Taking Scarlett’s Advice

Not my best day.  Putting on my Scarlett drapery gown.

A Slow Leak

Over the past couple of months, I’ve noticed an ongoing shift in my mental weather.  It’s subtle, quiet, not alarming or uncomfortable.  I can only describe it as a slow leak of caring.  I’m not interested in much beyond making my bits of art and maintaining creature comforts.  This I attributed to lung crud overlapping Henry-grief.  It seemed pretty normal to me, and not worth fussing about.

And it’s not completely new.  I go through cycles of pulling back, detaching, giving the Hermit full reign.  In the past, those cycles included some kind of mental anguish or agitation.  Not so now.  I’m curiously uninterested in friends or family, untroubled by minor annoyances.

So, I confessed to my therapist yesterday in the spirit of full disclosure.  And, I think, to make sure nothing else might be going on.  She agreed that sickness and grief were probably in play, and that I was correct in taking it in stride.  Although, she did ask for my promise to call her if thoughts of suicide became a daily occurrence.  That seemed a bit drastic, but Sonya doesn’t know me that well yet, so her caution and concern are actually quite endearing.  I promised.

Today will be another spent on my bed with art supplies, Emmett, and the fifth season of Star Trek: The Next Generation keeping me company (This was the season Michelle Forbes joined the cast as Ensign Ro Laren—Michelle Forbes who stars with Richard Armitage in Epix’s Berlin Station and who seems to be his current amour.  Seven Degrees of Star Trek.).

I will be content, unaffected by other people or the world.  It seems a little weird, but I’m not complaining.i

Happy Valentine’s Day

Image

Productive with Phlegm

After a long and noble battle, my immune system took to her fainting couch, and bronchitis cackled its phlegmy victory.  I’m actually delighted to have gone almost ten months without lung crud.  Setting up the sickroom and soup kitchen was second nature.  Plus, my sister ran for juice and other essentials in the early days, so that was a new comfort and indulgence.  Thanks, Sissy.

I’ve been in a card-making mood for several weeks, and just moved everything into bed with me.  Counting up this morning, I’ve made 62 cards and little Penny Positive collages in the past two weeks.  They just flow—a positive role model for all my bodily Humours.

As my Etsy shop fattens, Emmett and I relax with some series or other on the TV, the bed full of paper and ribbons.  A mug of Gypsy Cold Care tea steams on one bedside table, snips and tweezers sit on the other.  Yes, there is coughing and dizziness, and Emmett’s weight loss, but we are companionable and warm and here.

In fact, I hear my bed calling.  A new batch of cards longs to be created with the awful first season of Star Trek: Next Gen on Netflix to keep us company.  Think how many we can make by the time we get to the seventh season series ender!

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