This is my allegory... empty paint tubes, and what's actually left inside. I grabbed these empty tubes from the waste bin in our watercolor class, last year. I remarked that they were still useful, but not everyone wanted to hassle with the last bits. We were filling our large palettes, with big blobs of luscious, wet paint. I held on to the empty tubes for later.
In the last few days, I feel like those empty tubes, like I can't be much use, I can't find my way. Rudderless... but that's sort of another metaphor. Between the collision settlement and bureaucracy not concluding before the crashaversary, as promised, and eagerly anticipated, and the necessity of stronger lockdown measures looming over us in California, I have lost both relief from trauma, and hopes for more movie nights, and other socially distant gatherings. I set so much store in both... being done with all outside demands and expectations related to drunkladydriver, and having modified, stratgetized and organized holiday amusements. I thought for sure to be done with the former by now. And I thought only rain could ruin our holiday parade. I was wrong. And now I feel squeezed, tired, sad, and tired... did I say "tired?" and empty. It's not about lacking perpsective, or having no sense of appreciation for the good things in life. I just... I really
So. I feel out of ideas, out of energy, like an empty paint tube. And. And I am hoping, or probably just wondering, could I squeeze out one last dab, a tiny blob of color? I feel better than I did Thursday, and a bit better than I felt yesterday, but that's not saying much.
Janece gave me a really clever brush washer, with paint storage. The little compartments only need small dabs of paint, about the amount found in empty tubes. I had all I needed to get the new organizer loaded and ready to go. Janece's gift is such a happy surprise, and sweet gift. I think it will be nice to travel with, or to take out for plein aire painting. The nice thing with good watercolor paints is how concentrated they are, so even small amounts can go a long way. Solstice, for watching the Geminids meteor shower, for observing Saturn and Jupiter in a Great Conjunction! I had plans for another Cafe Diem, baking, then sitting across from friends, in the driveway, and making believe we all happen to be at the same open air cafe. More movies, more chats. But... The Regional Stay Home Order prohibits private gatherings of any size.
We survived the string of broken lights, the cat gnawing on the fake tree, the literal garbage and cigarrette butts the roofers dumped into our attic (all over the Christmas decorations... ungh). We got through another Santa Ana wind storm, without fires, thankfully. And. Some day, soon, we will recall surviving the pandemic, God willing, and 45, too. Soon, right? Heck, I might even get ahead of the laundry.
Also on the calendar, for Maria... prepare a meal with ramen. All of her classes are going well, by the way. In fact, she's getting sad that there are only five weeks left of this semester, and it will be the end of Japanese. That went fast! Alex and I jumped in to help fill wonton skins, and Maria stir-fried mixed vegetables to serve with the ramen. It was a yummy dinner.
And this morning, the tree was still there! I don't know how or what we will do to pass the time, to make things special. Arguably, "making things special" is not necessary, not essential, but if that's your stand... phooey! I want and need, and long for special, for merry and bright, for healing, and company, and to feel comfort and joy. Idealism is a virtue, hope is a gift, and I want to squeeze out whatever I can, somehow.