FirstBorn and family came a visitin’ last week. They stayed in the cottage where Mama lived until she died last spring, repurposed now as my studio. Before they arrived I moved everything that could remotely endanger a two year old to the back rooms where I make art. Including Studio Quat and her kitty needs.
She’s an old kitty. I’m sure the peace and quiet of her bed on my worktable was preferable to the attentions of the granddaughter and granddogger. Both of whom are rambunctious, one of whom is rather large.
Then I got those baby proof things that fit over the doorknobs. The ones you have to squeeze a certain way to open the door. Studio Quat was ever so grateful, kitty privacy guaranteed.
I haven’t had the heart to get rid of Mama’s furniture yet so the kids had all the comforts of home. Comfy furniture. Satellite TV. Complete kitchen and laundry. Most of all they had their own place to get away to. Perfect arrangement for family harmony.
But next Christmas someone else will be living in the cottage. Because I came to the conclusion last month that Studio Grande is too valuable as an income property to be trashed as an art studio. Something Mr. Spouse had been pushing for ever since Mama died but I couldn’t see the big picture. It had been my studio before she lived there and I wanted to reclaim it now that she was gone.
And I wasn’t ready to have someone else living in Mama’s house.
Then one day in late November the universe whacked me upside the head. AHA! Just like that. Clarity. I could design a studio just the way I want it. A wall of windows to the south. Skylights to the north. A vent fan with a hood. Countertops, storage, a layout that works for me. I could pay for the materials with my inheritance and Mr. Spouse would have a project to keep him busy.
He didn’t waste any time. We got the slab poured last week. And once it’s finished and I’m moved in we can rent out the cottage. Rent out Mama’s house.
I’m okay with that now.
After the kids left this morning I went down to reclaim my space. They cleaned up after themselves before they left. Sheets and towels were in the laundry. Dishwasher loaded. Kitchen counter tidied up. Perfect guests.
And then I looked at the counter and saw something was missing. I searched the cabinets and the drawers but it was gone. No doubt thrown out with the trash. Of course, why not–to them it was only another bottle cap.
But it was much more than that to me. I found it on Mama’s patio a few days after her service last April. After the patio had been swept clean and tidied up from the reception where we’d toasted her memory with beer and dark chocolate. Her two favorite food groups. I’d been visiting the oak grove where we buried her ashes and when I walked past the patio I saw it sitting there in plain sight…a bottle cap. One that I swear hadn’t been there before. I bent down to pick it up and almost cried when I saw the words printed inside…Ola Life!
Overlooked trash? A message from my mother? Or something planted by a well meaning friend…who can say? It brought me comfort. I’d left it in a special place on her kitchen counter and looked at it from time to time. Because it made me feel good.
And now it’s gone…
But you know what–I’m alright with that. Like the cottage studio it served its purpose. This is a new year…and it’s time to let go and move on.
It’s been an awesome five days. An exhausting five days. Now she’s on her way back home to her own house, her own routine. I will miss her full on the lips sloppy wet kisses. Her tiny little voice and her beautiful smile. Most of all I will miss her sense of style.
Sigh…
And then…JUMP UP AND DOWN because YAY!, it’s the New Year. Fresh start. New intentions. Computer back from the shop and I’m rarin’ to go. Get your seatbelts on, lovies, ’cause it’s going to be quite the ride in artland/blogland this year. Oh yes indeed. I’ll be sharing this all with you shortly so stay tuned.
But first, a look at the final indulgence of 2011 to grace my table. Grace my lips. Keep me up waaay past my bedtime in a carb and saturated fat induced blitz.
Can you say Belgian Chocolate? Can you say White chocolate? Can you say Key Lime? Can you say Tiramisooooooooo I’m in luuuuuuv with you???? Can you say holy crap this is AMAZING???
We split five of these among five adults. Had two and a half left over. They were that rich.
And now, for the month of January, it’s back to green smoothies and eating clean. And you know what? I’m looking forward to it.
For the next week or so I will be computer-less. Bereft of my Mac. The time has come to send this baby back to the Apple elves for repair. Been putting this off for nearly a month because the thought of being WITHOUT MY COMPUTER for a few days, maybe a week or more, is just too…too…sigh, I dunno. Too much, I guess.
The nice man in the phone assured me he knew how I felt. Apparently I’m not the first Mac Mom he ever encountered. He promised it won’t be long. And I know, from previous experience with previous macs, that he’s right. Apple Care rocks. It really does.
So I’m going to take a few days off from the blog. Between now and the New Year I’ll be playing with a two year old. Building couch houses and sofa forts, making sugar cookies, eating pretend food from the Dora the Explorer kitchen, going on adventure walks. I’ll be soaking up the grandma experience for all it’s worth.
But I’ll be back. Promise. New Year’s Day. If my computer is still in the shop I’ll blog from my iPad. I’m looking forward to it. Got a whole lot of things going on in January. Art. Life. Lots of stuff to share.
When I was growing up, December 24 was all about sister Marjorie Ellen. It was her birthday. My parents did all they could to make that her special day, as a birthday should be. Especially when you’re a kid.
Margie’s birthday had nothing whatsoever to do with Christmas. Even if there was a tree in the living room while she blew out the candles on the cake. Her day was her day.
It was black and white. First came Margie. Next day came baby Jesus. And Santa. Because you couldn’t have one without the other. Bible says so. It’s in there somewhere I’m sure. Three wise men bringing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Stuff the grownups might want (Gold, Mr. Spouse…hint…hint) But what kid in his right mind would put frankincense and myrrh on his list? Dried tree sap? Resin? Even one who would become the ultimate overachiever like baby J?
That’s why they needed Santa. The guy who brings the good stuff to the party. A case of Papyrus Pampers to make life easier for mom and dad. A bottle of Manischewitz to toast the birth. The bobble head Cesar for the back of the donkey. Condoms for the shepherds. And a BC Binkie for the babe.
But I digress. I was talking about Margie and her birthday. Which had nothing to do with Christmas Eve, just Margie, whom I worshipped and idolized because she was my big sister and knew everything. EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYTHING. In my eyes she was perfect.
Did I ever tell you how bad my eyesight is?
It wasn’t until I was an ADULT, that I discovered people actually celebrate Christmas Eve as a holiday unto itself.
Imagine that….
So we do, sort of. Tonight we’ll have a lovely dinner. It will be our first Christmas Eve without Mama. We’ll raise a glass in her honor, repeat the stories we’ve told countless times about her. We’ll celebrate her life and her passing and be happy that’s she’s in a better place.
Sister Marjorie Ellen is in a better place now too…Norway. Been there her entire adult life–quite possibly because they celebrate Christmas for TWELVE days. I guess her birthday gets lost somewhere in there but that’s okay, there’s enough days of wine to cover that.
But these days Christmas Eve is more than Marjorie Ellen and Jesus. Because someone else in the family was born on December 24.
Happy Birthday Baby Bean, AKA Precious Man Dog! Happy birthday!
The solstice is here! The solstice is here! Hopping up and down, waving my arms with excitement, just like Steve Martin celebrating the arrival of the new phone book in The Jerk.
Because by this time of the year I’m desperate–positively desperate–for a few more minutes of daylight. I’m tired of waking up in the dark. Coming home from work in the dark. Feeding the horses in the dark.
I likes me my daylight. I like to be outside. I likes me my SUN! Even if the extra sun comes with the start of winter, that’s OK. Because after winter comes SPRING. My all time most favorite season.
From the Holiday Movie Dept.
This Saturday, Christmas Eve, the Hallmark channel will be rerunning the movie The Christmas Card. It was filmed right here in Nevada City–which is neither in Nevada nor a city but it is where I live. The movie is, umm…Hallmark. The scenery is GREAT.
