Married Forever

Mr. Hutson and I just celebrated our wedding anniversary. I think it's been about 800 years but we both agreed that it only feels like 200.
;)
The actual number is 29 - yes - twenty nine years.
yikes

At this stage of the game if I catch him gazing intently at me I know it's only because the earrings I'm wearing look like they'd make such darn good fishing lures.

Lurky-Loos

Hey!
At least one of you lurky-loo's better stop to say hi!

I'm waiting....

*arches eyebrow*

Erin Unravelled

As a side piece to Erin's poem and my painting, I eventually put together a poem of my own. And as usual it took me a few years to complete.
I paint fast but my goodness do I ever write slow.

I don't want Sylvia Plath I
just want my daughter
at peace inside her skin.
I don't want to wait
as the world shifts and shreds, I hang;
when moment staggers into moment
I hang
in an endless, airless fog of dread.

What could I do to make you unheed
those strange stray molecules
that gnaw at your brain
dismantling any sense of hope and safety
till all that remains
is a small brave self
hiding as if there were no tomorrow.

In dreams
my legs are scarred-
lined with pale silver gashes
like those that mark
your body
my heart
my daughter.

Actually she hates Sylvia Plath. And Shakespeare. But like an authentic little disaffected young citizen of the new millenium she's nuts about Bukowski.

Unnatural Curl

I painted this about 5 years ago to utillise sections of the not very good likenesses I'd painted of my Twin B and to feature a poem she'd written. Which would be...









I can lose hours
Just sitting and chewing my hair
One second leaks into the next
Like a faucet dripping
The same drop of water
Over and over.
I swallow time without tasting it,
Chewing the fat in my own company
Digested thoughts are lost
And as I carefully twist the blond strands,
The day slips down my throat
Without my noticing.
I can sit and chew my hair
Until my lips bleed.

We document *everything*

While searching through photos this evening in our Adobe photoshop general dumping site I noticed the pictures that Erin had taken immediately following her slice 'n dice last Saturday night. (Guess she didn't figure on the files being somewhere accessible - she never was very good about being discreet with anything though)
Blood covered her thigh and ran down to her calf. Bit of a jolt even though I initially saw the cuts the next morning and they looked rather nasty then.
When I took some photos today of the 'Ain't It A Shame' that she'd carved into her other leg she did mention that she'd already documented her little endeavor
...but I really wasn't expecting...that.

So why?
Why take the picture? I always hope that there's an element of 'been there, done that' if they can look back on the event.

Oh...right...they.
Also have photos of Twin A's foray into self harm. Pretty sure that hers was a one time venture, but then she always went a for a slightly less intentional but rather reckless approach to injury.
Which would explain the 4 concussions in her mid teens.

May 2-5

I ran around Prince George revelling in the fact that TwinB was not in the psych ward. From our hotel balcony on the 9th floor I could see the hospital window where she would sit and wait for me and visiting hours. I wandered to various places we had been to when she was allowed out for the day and enjoyed the absence of uncertainty and anxiety. I was anticipating being co-workers for Arts Umbrella the following week.
She phoned my cell while I was trying on clothing at the Bay. Not doing too well...I talked her down a bit then suggested that I let her know when I get back to the hotel so that she could phone me there. We talked for an hour and a half later that afternoon; she sounded better and said she was okay. Apparently she wasn't, but at least she waited until I'd been home for a few hours before succumbing to her grand melt-down.

Little Helper Monkey

Arts Umbrella is in town this week and I've been busy assisting with printmaking. It's been fun and informative yet exhausting and oddly ego destroying. Or maybe that's due to other things happening in my life.
My goodness I have 'big city' issues; I really feel like the po' country cousin.

TwinB had been hired to be another assistant on this project so I was looking forward to training together, working in different locations and comparing notes later but...she kind of o.d.'d on rum, cut herself up rather thoroughly and landed in emergency at 9 am Sunday which was orientation day. She finally stopped puking around 3 pm so at least I was able to attend the session. Just got her out of the hospital this evening (wed), so she should be able to at least volunteer for a couple of classes and get a taste of it.
(it's Saturday now and she's still sick. She managed to attend the 2 hour reception but it completely wiped her out. She did look fabulous though :) )

Can't really recall another week in my life that I'd been anticipating so much, turning out to be this friggin' grim.