Reflecting

Interesting fact for you: if you haven't cross country skied in two years because there hasn't been any snow, and then you do an abdominal workout which you also haven't done in a long time, and then you shovel a 200 foot driveway clear of over a foot of snow, and THEN you host a teenage New Year's Eve party... your body will let you know that it hates you. It really, really, really hates you.

Also, your husband will laugh at you because you can't sit up on your own without pulling on something for help, or bend over to pick something up without getting stuck. Advil is my friend, and my husband is inching closer to my retribution.

Oh, stop laughing at me. I can hear you from here!

Yesterday instead of working out on zero sleep, irritated nerves, and almost immobile body, I put together a collage of some of the paintings I did in 2012. I thought I wouldn't have enough, because I've only really been pushing it since May and I just feel like I've been lazy. I feel like I just don't do enough for my work, which is a huge source of frustration for me (it's hard to wear all the hats in your own company. I'm pretty sure I've been put on probation and fired at least twice.)

One of the problems I feel I suffer from is the "I'm just not ready to do that" attitude during the day. It's strange, but if I exercise in the morning my brain does not produce creatively until the afternoon (but I can knock out spreadsheets and other mathematically/business based work no problem.) If I skip exercising, I can paint right away. I'm sure there's some sort of blood flow theory or something, but I'm not sure what that is. Honestly, even if I did know the why's, I don't think it'd make a lot of difference. I have to exercise in the morning because I won't do it if I don't, and I create better in the evenings anyway. I just have to accept that fact, along with all the guilt that comes along with my career intruding on 100% mom-time for the family.

I haven't accepted that yet, though. I'm just at the feeling like a piece of dirt part (which step of acceptance is that again?)

Anyway, I thought there wouldn't be enough, but I ran out of room for them all:

Most of my painting work for 2012

Not bad for less than a full year of at least pretending to work, eh? In all seriousness, this made me feel a lot better. I may be a slow painter, but I AM getting things done after all. Also, it makes my goal of about 50 paintings this year a "doable" thing!

In other news, and I apologize for the downer note (again), I am taking my dog Cosmo to the vet to have his back leg amputated today. He has bone cancer, and the tumor that has caused him to stop using his back leg is inside the bone and will continue to grow until it fractures the bone from the inside out. Amputation will relieve the pain he has now and avoid worse happening. We're not doing chemotherapy for him because it won't gain him much time overall (they were thinking maybe 6 months if we did it.) This is a pain relief thing, only. We've been told that no matter what we do that there is no hope. So, we're going to make him as comfortable as we can, and let nature take it's course rather than fight it until the end while making him miserable with treatments.

Cosmo is only seven years old, and the normal lifespan for his breed is 12-14 years. I know he's got a lot of genetic issues (we suspect that he might have come from a puppy mill, as his liter-mate that my mom took had so many issues and was basically told that the vet suspected that too.) It just doesn't seem fair.

Cosmo, a few years ago

I have guilt that I am not as attached to Cosmo as I was to Max, because Cosmo has always been the grumpy-Gus of the house and never really attached to anyone. Still, he's been my little patrol dog, and only living for seven years hardly seems fair. He's apart of our wild and crazy unit of non-furry and furry family members. My daughter knows what is happening, my son does not. He knows about the surgery, but not the end-game we're dealing with. My son is extremely sensitive, and this will be devastating since we didn't lose Max all that long ago. Two dogs in less than a year. Sigh. I feel like I'm on a balance beam and I keep slipping into mid-air.

You never know when your body will turn on you, or if it will take you all the way to the label on a Smucker's jar for turning 100 years old. It doesn't matter if you are a dog or a human, it's a fact for all of us. The best we can do is give our body the best shot we can at that Smucker's jar, and leave the rest to what will be.