Finding Ponies

I have now found part of the laundry room, living room and kitchen.

I keep reminding myself of the story about the two children who found a barn full of manure.

All I can say is that I know there is a pony under here somewhere.

Tomorrow I go find herds in the studio!

Returning To Normal

I have spent time unpacking and cleaning up after my exhausted and upset partner. He spent time at the clinic today and has discovered that he is exhausted and not very well. He is completely shocked to find out he is mortal.

I know I am mortal having faced serious illness in the past and have a tendancy to take better care of myself.

There is no bathroom in the house yet but part of the house is starting to show up as boxes unpack and construction proceeds. The hangers have been found and the washing machine is in constant use. Meals have been prepared and served and people have come over for visits.

Today I went for a walk and a little shop. Met a friend for lunch and heard good news.

New paint brushes!

Home

Home or...what is left of it. Not one room in the house is clean or even functional.
I am exhausted and completely horrified. There is a difference between construction mess and
what has happened to my house. Not one room in one area protected and safe. Nothing was covered . Nothing was cleaned.

The bathroom now has a toilet but the window is now out. The window is beautiful and so is the floor.

Clear that there is a serious problem here. If I blow up it creates a reward system. I will not be a foil in this passive aggressive dysfunction any more.

Dried Out

My eyes have teared up so much that I can hardly see. So hard leaving all my wonderful new friends in Wells. I am happy to be going home with the prospect of a proper bath tub and my own bed and lovely family but I will miss it here somethin' awful.

Each morning I was greeted with the mountains and the beautiful birds. Each night I go to sleep in the silence of the wild and look at sheets of stars. The water stunk. The bugs were thick but the people were lovely almost to a person. I really had a beautiful time even when it was not going well. I coped when I wasn't sure I coould. I was independant.

I didn't get much art done but have a burning brain full of ideas. I'll post lots of pictures when I get to my own computer.

How Many?

How many paintbrushes and thread spools does one artist need?
Should I give stuff away? Should I save it for later? What should I bring down to the share shed at the dump?
Can I just leave it all here and run away to somewhere else?

Highlight of the Summer

Last night at dinner my friend Bill asked me what the highlight of my summer was.
I talked about my moose adventure, my bear adventures and the wildflowers.

He looked at me quizically and explained that his summer highlights were always about experiences with people.

My head spun. I am always about people and about interactions. I have four children and endless relatives. I have many friends and neighbours in need of my support. I didn't realize
how much I needed a break from my interactions with people and with social usefullness.

I have been mostly alone in my endeavor here. Not without companions. Certainly interacting with people every day. But alone in goal setting, decision making etc. I like it. I like having the time to think about moose.

The highlight of my summer, though, is also about people. The "Bogman" will stay with me for a long time. Who wouldn't relate to a tall, slender man who spent days dressing up in bog flora and some real, live fauna to make a statement about the environment at the Wells Fashion Show.

I am coming home to Vancouver next week after being gone for five months. The frost is now coming back to Wells and the season is changing. Fires are lit again in the Saint George's Gallery to keep us warm and Claire is bringing in hot cocoa and fresh biscotti.

I will miss all aspects of this place. I will miss the people here. I will miss my bus trip to Quesnel and being offered morning coffee by Mark as I wait for it. I will miss being seen as just Patricia.

The boxes are being packed and the truck home is booked.

Fishbowls

Living in Wells is like living in an aquarium. Other gallery owners watch me come and go. They always mention when I open late or decide to close for a day for a workshop or something. I have had to close the Good Eats a few times because of construction or the overwhelming noise from musicians practise.

I am the only gallery owner in my end of town that has not operated within my own home and with a partner. I don't have a car. I walk through the middle of town to my gallery and am usually greated with comments about how late I am because I open at 10 o'clock when they open at 9:00 or so.

I have one other gallery owner who constantly phones me and leaves me a message to tell me what time it is and wonders why I am not there. Sometimes I am in the back or at the general store where my only access to the computer is. I have to run back and forth to do things like eat or go to the bathroom.

I have fantasies that other gallery owners open in their pajamas or eat toast at the desk. They have washing machines, cars and computers in their buildings.
I don't. I know other gallery owners have naps and go for showers later or walks around town when their partners help. I don't.

I had an offer of help when I came in exchange for studio space from one artist. She had offered a couple mornings a week for the right to work in the St. George's. Her stuff is there and I don't know if she works in there. I know that she has worked in the gallery once since I arrived. I also know now based on feedback from others and from direct comments and contact that she is one of my biggest critics.

I really have tried hard but have learned that I would rather do anything but keep a shop. I just want to go back home now. I like to swim in a much bigger pond than this.