Category Archives: Life in the Verse

Is Fortune Smiling? 12-12-12

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Today I had many many digital mammograms taken (gosh, 15?) and then ultrasound (boy did she look very hard and very long at one area) and finally a referral to biopsy next week and two surgeons…  The surgeons may or may not be needed depending on the biopsy results.  That happens next Wednesday.

Susan G. Kommen – Breast Cancer and Mammography

Six weeks ago I found a massive lump, about the size of an Oreo cookie. I watched for a month and then went to see my doctor who told me it was good I’d already waited the month because she would have had me wait a month and watch. I do my bazoom check every month but this one wasn’t detected by the method they suggest.  It was completely random and did I say BIG.

Turns out they want to biopsy the breast that I thought was still normal too…  “Suspicious Calcification” was used and the radiologist made it clear she is concerned about Miss Right and suggests I have a breast surgeon look at this, perhaps in addition to the biopsy next week.

There are some forms of calcification that a radiologist can simply give you the go light on and all is well.  Suspicious not so much.  The good news is if this is malignant, it is probably very slow growing and so we have time to take the little fuckers out.

Right now I’m trying to breathe, get through the holidays, and a bit of distance from Mr. Furnace. We are still a couple but it’s become quite clear that we both have unfinished business that needs to be addressed and finished before he and I can move forward. I have hope for us, the love is deep and true.  But I think we both need a bit of breathing space. The timing isn’t optimum but it will allow me to go into the cocoon and just rest and be quiet and take care of me. I hope he does the same, I love him so very, very much.

I feel hopeful that all will be well in all areas of my life, body, and soul. But today is a grey day and my heart feels kind of heavy right now.

I won’t be worrying about the blog or other projects much in the coming weeks but as news becomes available I’ll check in and let you all know how I’m doing.

Befriend your breasts my sisters. Check them every month. Don’t just be all clinical about them and do the step 1 step 2 bazoom check.  Really get to know them so that you will notice any changes. But the step 1, 2, 3 is better than no step at all.

SaveTheBazooms

Love Cyn

Agreeing to Disagree?

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Since the elections ended I’ve been hearing some talk about letting our disagreements go. While I agree with that in theory, define disagreements.

If you want to control my rights and my options regarding my body, my life, my spiritual path, my health, ANYTHING that doesn’t touch on your life in any way, this is NOT a disagreement. You are wrong. Period. And pray that you or yours don’t need those freedoms at any time.

If you want to pretend the earth isn’t in trouble on a climate basis, this is not a disagreement. It is a fact. You and yours will suffer and if you think the Romneys of the world are going to share their fresh water and air conditioning with you, think again. You are wrong. Period.

If you are only concerned about your wallet and don’t care about the social programs that are there for the good of all, including you when your wallet is flat, this is not a disagreement. This is you only caring about yourself.

This is a society made up of people. Someone needs to oversee the state of our transportation, protection, education, and disabled and be there when your house burns to the ground or you get cancer when you’re unemployed. This is called the government. We can’t exist without it no matter how much you cry that you want less of it. Those of us who believe in these services are voting for YOU so that you, even if you are wearing blinders, can use them even if you don’t want me to have them. Think of Chris Christie and Hurricane Sandy the next time you spew hatred towards the liberals who wanted you to have help when the unexpected happens.

Someone needs to pay for it all. That is US. (corporations and fat cats? That means you too you greedy, stingy bastards, beware the fate of Scrooge) Don’t tell me you don’t want to pay taxes and then complain about gridlock, poor health benefits, lousy roads, and not enough cops or come crying when a tornado takes out your town but you voted to get rid of FEMA. Tell me you don’t want FEMA when they show up to help you eat because your house doesn’t exist any more. Tell me you aren’t interested in going to the food bank when you lose your job. This is not a disagreement. You are wrong.

I’m sorry but if you want to be the only one who matters in your life, fine. But you need to go back under the rock you came out from under. There is no place for popular sociopaths in this society. It is a “WE” deal. No man is an island. Accept the fact that you are on planet earth and that you are here to love your fellow beings be they human, animal, plant or mineral. The good of all is the only thing that flies here or everyone loses.

You wanna grab the hand of the others who are willing to stand for all, here it is. My hand. But if you wanna be an island only caring about yourself? You got it. I’ll give my hand to someone else who wants it, but I’ll *still* give it to you if you need it. Even if you voted for your wallet, for the sociopath? Even if you voted not to have any of the social programs? I will still give money through taxes and the Red Cross so you can eat when you’re under 3 feet of water with no power. This is not a disagreement. You are wrong. Re-incarnate on a different planet next time because this one just ain’t for you.

WAKE THE FUCK UP! GET WITH THE PROGRAM! But under no circumstances tell me to agree with you just so everything looks pretty instead of real.

Harvest Blessings

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Mr. Furnace and I had a lovely day.  Sometimes you just don’t have time to make the bed. We had a nice long drive up north then through the mountain loop highway, oysters for lunch, harvest farms and goaty goodness (always appropriate for Samhain), deception pass, ferries and home…  A nice little vacation from the staycation. And yes, all my “christmas” cactus are in bloom right now…  MY cactii are Samhain Cactii….  Of course they are!

When does a craft become an art?

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I’ve been puzzling over this question for a few years. I used to get a table at local pagan events, tried etsy, witchvox, all kinds of online methods to sell my wares but had very little luck.  I tried to price my pieces fairly, based on what the market would bear, not based on the time spent. I found out very quickly when going around to the local pagan type brick and mortar shops that the market generally only bears cheap Made in China/India products. I was actually told in one shop that touts itself as being highly spiritual in a New Agey way that 1) their tarot bags ARE handmade (sure, by children and slave labor in Asia and India) and 2) that the Greenman wasn’t “in” any more.

I can not tell you how many times people have said to me, “I love your work! You should sell it!” Dozens if not hundreds of times.  And I say politely, “Oh, I’ve been there done that” and then try to politely sit there while they go on and on about marketing strategies like if only I had THEIR advice my stuff would sell, never asking me what things I had done prior to talking with them.  Drives me nuts and I tend to avoid them for a while.  They mean well, but shut up! Seriously.

See here’s the deal.  My stuff rarely sold when I put a $35-75 price tag on it. Which was like getting paid, hmmm, about $2 per hour. (Please read this blog post, The True Cost of Handmade) So for the last few years my shop had been closed down because I get such a buzz creating for friends and loved ones as gifts and it pays my spirit more than cash, especially such low ball cash. But darn it, cash would be nice, right?

I started my artistic life at my grandmother’s knee, about the age of 6 because by 8 I was sewing on a machine and making some of my own clothes. Thank you so much Mom! Thank you Nana! My first embroidery hangs on my wall and reminds me how far I’ve come and how much I still love this art. This morphed into embroidered denim in the 70’s (duh), a dry spell, cross stitch, then counted cross stitch, Shepherd’s Bush counted samplers in linen and silk, costumes and embellishment, full blown textile research, metal working, and photography, encompassing a broad range of skills, eventually becoming full blown art created out my mind and spirit and heart through connection with the medium and the universe.  I’m now 53.  That adds up to 47 years of experience and training and learning and making mistakes, some minor and some so major there was no hope to save the piece.  Some languished (the hooked orange, yellow, and brown mushroom shag rug comes to mind) and eventually were sent to the thrift store in hopes that someone else would finish what I began and lost interest in.

Goodness, such a Young Thing, in one of my first dresses…

47 years of experience.  That’s a lot if you think about it. A literal lifetime. There was a time I never would have thought I’d live this long. Life got quite weird, scary, and dangerous more than once.  But I kept at my craft. No matter what life threw at me, I stitched, I burned, I morphed clay, I cooked, I drew, SOMETHING.  After 4 decades I began to call myself an artist, it took that long to feel I had earned that honor.  It took a major psychic and emotional shift for that to happen let me tell you.

There was a time that what I do was simply a hobby, a craft project, for fun.  That is no longer true.  Sure, I can craft with the best of them.  But the plain fact is, I’m an artist. And all 47 years of joy and pain and struggle and learning and teaching go in to that fact.  This is not something I picked up over night.  My work represents years of observation, practice, and persistence. ALMOST half a century!

Early this year someone got very excited about one of my pieces.  They were all, oooh, must have, my wallet is open. I was a little excited but also a little skeptical.  I’ve heard that before. We communicated privately and I let them know that the price was $400.  This piece had at least, AT LEAST, 20 hours of my time in it.  Backed by 47 years of experience and training.  They wrote me back and told me that they had $25 for me and for my box.  I remained firm in my price and they said, fine, I’ll make one myself.  By all means, go right ahead.  You may very well create something magical and beautiful and more power to you.  But are you fucking kidding me?????  $25 for 20 hours of my work?  That is $1.25 per hour for my time, nothing for my materials, and no acknowledgement of my art and craft and the beauty and spirit that goes into each piece.  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  I didn’t say that then and it’s possible they may see this post and know I’m speaking of them. But get real…   I am not as gentle in my response as Somer Sherwood.  I’m a lot of things and one of them is an aging punk rocker with an attitude that lingers. The arrogance, as if you would trade your time so cheaply…

So.  My pieces sit in my Etsy shop with the price I think they are worth. Every once in a while one sells.  I’ve been “favorited” by artists who I have admired from afar.  That is worth its weight in gold, believe me. Sometimes I take a piece and give it to a loved one.  But one thing I will not do is violate my integrity, my work, and my spirit by saying, you know, this is only worth $25.  Those days are LONG gone my friend.

Yule is coming up.  I’m seeing a lot of folks, especially on Facebook, encouraging folks to buy handmade this year.  With pocketbooks tight and the economy what it is, I understand if you have to opt for other, less expensive items.  I don’t judge that in any way. I’ve been there myself, especially in the years when I had no faith in my ability to make all my own presents.  But think of handmade.  Think of Etsy.  There are affordable things and there are incredibly expensive and amazing things there. All made with heart by an artist.  (okay, I know, there is some total crap on etsy too)

Soon, I promise, I will have some new pouches in the shop for sale.  The thing that is holding them up is that I keep finding one more thing I could do to make them better. They won’t be cheap. But they will be beautiful. They will be one of a kind, unique pieces that will be, I believe, treasured for life. So when you see the price, remember what really went into that item. And remember that, no, you so totally could NOT get that for $25.