reverse threading

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Tag Archives: two artists living together


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in the eye of the beholder. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

i didn’t save this pink rose.

but there is a very shriveled dried daisy-that-looks-nothing-like-a-daisy on littlebabyscion’s dashboard. there are a few daisies from our wedding in a vase in my studio. and the first rose he ever gave me is on top of a cabinet in the bedroom.

despite – or is it with? – its distinct bow to aging, this pink rose just became even more beautiful.

this week – while at the grocery store – we splurged and bought a new lotion. it is an anti-aging lotion, a lotion that will eliminate crepey skin, a lotion with a potion that will make us supple and glowing all over again.

ok, well, not really.

but we do need lotion to combat the dryness in the house while we run the ever-humming window air conditioner in the feels-like 104 degree weather. dogga rolls his eyes every time we turn it off for a spell – he is a dedicated a/c dogga. his aussie self loves winter but not-so-much summer; the “cold box” (as dogga calls it) is his pal.

so, particularly in these times – spending our time at home with our aging dogga – we “have the air on”.

on the outside of the lotion tube, under the words “age renew” and “crepe corrector” it unequivocally states, “82% had visible improvement in crepey skin in just 2 days.” and then there is an asterisk.

ahhh….the ever-present asterisk.

the 82% had visibleimprovementincrepeyskin on the back of their hands and arms.

hello???

what about the rest of our bodies?

the reviews list words like “transformative“, “fantastic product“, “you need this“, “worth the cost”.

one person wrote that her “creepy forearms look so much better.” eww. just the words “creepy forearms” make me shudder. i mean, check your spelling!

another person wrote that they were a “side sleeper” which, to my knowledge, has like zero to do with the efficacy of this lotion.

and then there was the person who is using this lotion but stated, “maybe it will prevent that crepe look from happening in the first place.” and the person who is “approaching [their] 40s and noticed aging on [their] neck.” goodness! poor dear.

clearly, there should be age restrictions placed on the purchase of this lotion.

we hold no lofty expectations for this. we simply want a product that will keep our skin more hydrated as we attempt to do the same with drinking-more-water.

we know there is – really – no turning back. lotions and potions and moisturizers and all-the-stuff wasn’t consistently budgeted in our lives so we will be more like the pink rose, bowing to what aging looks like.

but, in defense of the pink rose – and us – beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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drink it in. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

we moved the sweet potato vine from the ladder on the deck. between the heat and the rain, it was struggling. we weren’t sure it was going to make it, which seems odd for a sweet potato vine, usually pretty invincible.

no matter, we thought, it needed to be moved so that it might have a chance. we transplanted it into a bigger pot and placed it on top of barney – a spot with maybe a bit more sun.

and then we watched it.

with few green leaves still on the vine, we feared it would not last.

but that little sweet potato surprised us. with little-engine-that-could chutzpah, it soaked up the sun, its perch on barney, visits from squirrels and cardinals, house sparrows and finches. and it started to recuperate.

it greened up – into that really rich chartreuse – life-affirming lime-green fabulousness. more leaves sprouted their way from the vine that started to extend across the keyboard. it started to look thicker, more vibrant, even verdant.

and – in the way that we see things – we drank in the simple-but-outstanding gorgeous juxtaposition of green and aging piano wood. stunning.

it is certain. color can help.

with all the ugly in this world right now, we could stare at that for a time and breathe.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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worker bees. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

there are large groups of seagulls here – and they congregate in all the normal places – like on the boulders on the shoreline, on the beach, around the trash bins by the beach, out riding lake waves or soaring above the water and scouring for morsels of food. they also congregate in abnormal places – particularly like the kohls parking lot. i used to joke that they were having a conference – all together for the invocation and then splitting off into groups for brief in-service sessions that are, i suppose, for the purpose of whetting their appetites for more knowledge about a topic – 45 minutes or so before they move on to the next mini-topic breakout session.

perhaps today these seagulls are gathered because they are NOT at the conference. instead, they are having a sit-in…just off the shoreline…noisy and stubbornly not moving. it’s their labor day too, they point out.

my first “job” was to go door to door in my neighborhood, dragging a red wagon behind me that was filled with baby cacti in tiny pots. a little later i diversified and added homemade candles. door to door, selling cacti and candles for $1 and keeping a log in my ledger.

at some point i added washerwoman to my paid-job list, as my grown-up sister hired me to do her laundry at the laundromat. my ledger shows that i earned $5 for this domestic task.

according to my meticulous recordkeeping, babysitting rates way-back-in-the-day were anywhere from $2 – $4 an hour, accompanying soloists for solo-ensemble was merely $2.50 or $3, tutoring math was $3.50 an hour. clearly, i was zealous.

i started teaching piano lessons to beginning beginners at age 16 and my mom drove me to the houses where i taught lessons. $3 (and later $4) covered the cost of a piano lesson, which lasted about 30 minutes or maybe a bit more. i have had countless private students through the years, in my own studio or their homes or at the music studio.

i felt productive doing any of my early “self-employed” jobs. that feeling of pride continued when i started working retail at the outdoor recreation/dive center or the music store or the photography shop. i was happy to earn money that i could save or spend on necessities or, maybe, things i was pining over. i liked being a worker bee.

as an adult, i began working for non-profits and government entities – which ranged from educational to religious to legal settings. it became quickly evident that better pay and perks were not necessarily going to be part of the equation. but, when one chooses to work for a non-profit (or an institution that functions under a not-for-profit basis) – though one hopes for ever-improving pay-and-perks – one knows there are limitations, and rewards for your work come in different packages of appreciation and in knowing you are making a difference in the life of an organization, an institution or a community. most of the time i liked being a worker bee in these settings, though there are definitely exceptions.

when i started my independent recording label, responsible for all the ins and outs of the business, my relationship with work took on different parameters. suddenly, everysinglething was within my scope to dream about, decide upon, to initiate, to represent, to carry out. everything that was related – even in small ways – was important to me and respectful relationships mattered: relationships with those i worked with, those who worked for me, those who were in concentric circles with significant adjacent impact on my company and those who were more removed but still had a role to play. i have loved being a worker bee with my own company, despite all the angst, the napkin math and the middle-of-the-night ruminating.

each of us makes choices about how we wish to fit in – what metaphoric spoke-in-the-wheel we wish – or feel comfortable enough – to be. each of those spokes matter in the big picture, no matter how seemingly minuscule or peripheral or menial. we all do this together; recognizing interdependency is paramount to any success.

in these times – fraught with the elimination of jobs, the dismantling of agencies and regulation, the bigoted prevention or stalling of women and people of color to advance, the trad-wife perversion, the mob-like corruption to stoke up money, the xenophobic erasure of immigrants and their very important work, the pronounced caste system of less and more-more-more – we are looking at an administration that does not seem to care about good old-fashioned work and how it should be rewarded.

ahhh. the importance of labor day.

there are some basics, after all, for us worker bees.

where have those gone??

the seagulls – at their sit-in – are clearly pissed.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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time to fly. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it is of note that i had to look it up – the first day of school in our town. i am no longer in touch with the district calendar; it no longer has any real bearing on our calendar.

today is the first day. wisconsin has some kind of rule (protecting late summer tourism) that school start must be in the month of september, so september 1st it is.

there is a certain feeling i get in my stomach on the first day of school – even when i, and now my children, have far outgrown this day. though i loved attending school back in the day, it was hard when summer had drawn to a close and my children had to go back to the structure of the school calendar. i missed them being at home. it was hard when i – during the years i taught in public schools – had to adhere to that structured calendar, those structured days. and then, my children’s college years – which presented even more mom-challenges for me. change is tough and redefining oneself as school starts gets those belly-butterflies going.

we drove past one of the colleges in our town and starting talking about jobs for which we had applied at the various higher level education institutions in our town. in the end we were both grateful to have not received offers from any of them. we talked about our lives as artists and that having our own businesses – as difficult as it is, with many pressures and worries – was more our cup of tea. there is no summer-ending-start date or summer-nearing-end date, no defined work hours or time-off dates or in-service dates for your own business. there is also no salary chart or healthcare plan, retirement savings or pension program, employee assistance program or life insurance. nevertheless, our businesses – individually and mutually – have been that which gives us flight and that is what we wish for all, recognizing that everyone will choose differently.

in these days of an administration that pushes back on actual learning of actual facts about actual things that actually happened, i wonder how teachers are dealing with the dumbing-down, the skeletonizing of our country’s history, of literature, of the arts, of science.

i want to believe that children – as they start school again – have – at their fingertips – a wide open horizon that invites them to find their own compass and to follow in the direction or directions they choose.

i would like to believe that they will be encouraged – by our government as well as their teachers – to explore and to dream, to research and to check their work, to seek answers as well as questions.

i would like to believe that they will see that anything is possible for them – if they work at it.

on this first day of school, i wish for each school child to be able to run at the horizon and jump, following their natural instinct to learn, to grow and, mostly, to fly.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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two imperatives. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

oh, if only it were that easy.

though i recognize how very impactful graffiti may be, i am not necessarily a blanket-fan of graffiti on public property.

these words, however, caught my attention: “be happy” “be kind”

such a simplicity – the imperative of life – in two short sentences.

someone – or someones – thought it important enough to place these thoughts in blue spraypaint onto the lake’s shoreline rocks. they didn’t sign their name or names, but i can understand that…that would be risky. nevertheless, they felt the risk of defacing the boulders was worth it – especially in light of the message they were leaving for others to see.

in these recent days, we lost an icon in the music world. dolly parton lived the imperative of art and of tenacity and of life and demonstrated a generosity that leaves a legacy stamped all over the world, forever. her example is profound. happy and kind were her companions.

completely the opposite is the deplorable example of the leader of this country. his feverish need for his name to be everywhere is distorted, narcissistically outsized. his pugnacious and gluttonous attitude prevailing over utterly everything he does, it is difficult to even utter his name without shuddering. this is not something we want graffiti-ed all over our precious country. enough already.

there is a tiny card that sits in my studio. it reads: “if you asked me what i came into this world to do, i will tell you: i came to live out loud.”

to live out loud – happy and kind.

seems pretty simple.

and it is easy to discern the difference – between those who live happy, who live kind and those who do not.

why would we elevate, entrust, enable, elect or endure anyone who does not?

so why – as a country – are we?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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the flower in the middle. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we usually leave our house – and arrive at our house – through the back door. it all started when, years ago, i was having trouble with the front door – the key wouldn’t work in the lock and – at the time, and for some time – it was too pricey to have a locksmith either fix it or install a whole new handle assembly on an old door with a really unique and beautiful vintage brass handle. so i used the back door instead. exclusively.

now, clearly i went to the front door to answer it, to check the mail, to exit directly into the front yard. it was just more secure to leave through the back and it was impossible to enter through the front.

phew. enough about that.

anyway, the other day – mid-afternoon – i went to the front door to check the mailbox. dogga always comes with me to “check the mail with momma”. glancing out, i could see this bright yellow flower – just one – happily growing next to one of the big ornamental grasses between our front sidewalk and the old brick wall.

all perky-like, it totally captured my attention – this little stranger in the midst of all the green fronds around it.

it didn’t look unhappy in its lostness. on the contrary, it looked completely at ease.

when i was little i had this inordinate, oversized fear of getting lost. i was completely not at ease with it. and my big brother fed this fear (just like my big sister fed fears of mine – for they were both a decade older than me and i was an easy target.)

i would be traveling with my dad and my big bro – in our pink camper van they converted from a long island lighting company (lilco) fleet-van. this van had a propensity for breaking down and it always seemed to be while we were upstate somewhere, forcing us to get off the highway onto these side roads to nowhere – woods and fields everywhere and no gas station to be found. my heightened angst about being lost would kick in – egged on by my beloved brother. i was little enough to be convinced we were never going to get home from the place-in-the-forest we had ended up, always stuck on the side of the road in a pink camper van, forever and ever more.

because my dad and my brother were both male – they were not inclined to ask for help or directions or a tow. instead, they did things like cut bits of barbed wire from random fences to resecure whatever it was in the engine that was falling apart. they’d drive and drive for miles – using the sun for guidance – to try and find their way back to an entrance to the highway. you know, various brilliant avoidances of utilizing the rest of humanity to help them.

to their credit, we always did get home safe and sound. and – to their credit – they truly were brilliant themselves – resourceful rube goldbergs – creativity and mechanical savvy combining to make every journey a success, no matter what.

i do think, though, that there are many people who – like this beautiful yellow flower – find themselves out of place, lost. out of place and lost can make one feel increasingly frantic and afraid:

“i think a lot of people are like this – lost, confused, and looking for directions but too scared or embarrassed or ashamed to ask for help.” (valerie bertinelli)

in all the adult travel i have done – particularly the solo travel – i have, like you, not really wanted to get lost on the way. but something about always arriving – when i was a child who was fearful – taught me to just take a breath. i have found that i talk aloud to myself as i drive through confusing territory – reminding myself i can always turn around and retrace my steps, i can always go back over the bridge the way i came, i can always pull over and regroup. and these days – with GPS at our side guiding our every veer and turn – this is even less imperative.

that doesn’t cover existential lostness, though. it doesn’t help with the out-of-place we feel in situations or circumstances – crossroads – of life that have nothing to do with traveling or maps.

” so many travelers say that sometimes you have to get lost to find what you’re looking for…”

maybe it’s those early days in our pink van that helped. the laughter and the tears, the ribbing and the comforting, the getting lost and the finding. it all somehow balances out.

in just a few days our little yellow flower was no longer there. it was almost like it had moved on.

but i do believe it was supposed to be right there – right out the now-keylock-accessible front door – waiting for us to see its happy face.

a little drop-in flower that reminded us of the raw of lostness and foundness and the time in the middle.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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the glow. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it began ever-so-slowly. but on a day we needed a glow, the glow showed up.

all of a sudden – from our adirondack chairs on the patio – we could see a glow peeking out, growing behind the metal sunflower over in the fern garden in the back corner of our yard.

we are sunseekers – but not in a tanning sort of way. on this day, after many days of humid and overcast, humid and hot, humid and ridiculously hot, here was a day that was significantly less humid. the early evening was starting and we were not sweltering. instead, we were tiki-torch-sitting in the backyard, watching the world turn.

i aimed the camera around the yard – to capture that time – barney and our daylilies, the taller switchgrasses, the birdbath, the pond, the ferns and breck, dogga laying on the deck. a half hour later is when the sun started to sneak between the back of the garage and the fence – the amber of my favorite spotlight fresnel gel – this time backlighting the metal sunflower we brought home from dogga’s birthtown across the state.

the sun is streaming across the quilt right now. it is a glorious early morning and our windows are open. the streaming sun assuages worries we carried into the dawn.

i think about all the times i have spent deliberately watching the sun rise. the fence-climbing into crab meadow beach, the eastern sky over the ocean, the sky over lake michigan, over the mountains, in the utah desert, climbing over redrock. i think about all the times i have spent deliberately watching the sun set. northport harbor, the gulf beaches, over summit county mountain peaks, over the grandest of canyons and the quietest of canyonlands, the answer to the sunset of the eastern sky over the lake, off the dock up-north, looking west from our southport beachhouse, in endless farmlands, on favorite hiking trails, off the coast on-island.

to deliberately watch the sun is to see in-real-life the parameters of a day. to know that – in what feels like an instant – another day will start, another day will end. and on and on it goes.

we recently heard news of the death of someone we knew. it took us both by surprise and saddened us. and it made me fall back into that weird space i always feel when learning someone has died – the wondering space – where i wonder how it is that the world can go on if this person cannot feel it.

i know it does – go on.

and i’ve never really answered the question. it just feels too big – too humbling, too consuming, too heavy, too existential – for me to truly wrap my head around it.

i don’t know…

maybe that’s why i watch the sun rise and the sun set.

maybe the glow knows.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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we rise up. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

as sunflowers age, their woody stems lose the ability to turn back and forth – east and west – in their track of the sun. instead, their older, more mature stalks keep them more planted, most often facing east – to capture the rising sun and warmth from early morning’s rays, to stoke up.

now, i’m guessing that it would be easier for the sunflower if it were able to continually use their magical heliotropism superpower their whole life, but – much like humans – some of their flexibility fades as they get older and they deal with life differently as an aged sunflower.

in the storylines of our own lives, it would be much easier if we were able to constantly pivot to goodness – the sun, easy answers, fixes, healing solutions, the fair solving of problems, any evil affecting us succumbing to accountability.

to think that all might go our way – the first time – or, heck, any time at all – sounds mighty fine.

but life as a sunflower isn’t like that. and neither is life as a human.

instead, lots of times we must set down our expectations and take a breath. a deep breath.

we allow a bit of time to readjust: to maybe grieve, to pine for a different result, to rail over outcomes dashed.

we reassess. we sort. we brainstorm.

we strategize. we plan.

we gear up.

and then – we rise up – with strong and straight spine – and face the next day, ready for what comes next. whatever it is.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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schisms. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

i found myself both infuriated and blubbering. it all suddenly became too much, much too much.

the daily corruption, the cruelty upon cruelty, the absence of any morality or conscience, the vapid extolling of this administration by sycophants – it is just too much.

and the fact that i have family members who agree with this – who cheerlead it – who believe in the extremism and the horror – who WANT this – and this: who have chosen all of this over their lifelong blood-related relationship with me – makes me ill.

it is heartbreaking – as i am sure it is for you as well…you who are dealing with this same sort of schism in your family, friend groups or community. i have lost family as a result of this administration. and that makes me feel rage.

we had survived a growing-up lifetime of memories, moments of utter joy, moments of anger and disagreement, moments of good health and struggling illness, moments of wondrous new birth and moments of despairing death, moments when laughter was the best approach to tension within the family, moments when forgiveness was necessary for betrayal. we had survived all of that – for almost six decades – with the bruises to show for it and the love that sustained it.

but this country’s twisted and irreverent leadership – its sadistic, bigoted, reprehensibly warped, narcissistic, gluttonous leaders – accompanied by cowardly, self-serving members of the cabinet and legislature, concentric circles doing the unconscionable – THIS has blown to bits this family.

there is silence in its wake.

and we are left like flotsam and jetsam – estranged – the detritus of a country-that-was – destroyed – we are floating around – isolated and grieving – without each other because of this.

because playing on the team of hate and division apparently became more fun than the hard work of love and unity. i can’t bear to think that the depravity was just more in alignment with them all along.

it is ALL unforgivable.

just what is our ancestral family legacy now?

*****

LEGACY © 1995 kerri sherwood

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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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what we put into it. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

there is not a walk we take this summer in our hood – down around the marina and the harbor and the channel – when we are not filled up with beautiful flowers. everywhere we look – along the pathways that intersect by our lake – there are giant standing planters, hanging baskets or gardens brimming over with meticulously-tended blooms and greenery.

the other night we walked slowly past the really big containers along the road that flanks the saturday farmers’ market. every one of the vessels was different – each had a different grouping of flowers and vines – brilliant contrasts of texture and vibrant colors – we did not miss the obvious thought that went into these big concrete urns. it would be easy to produce a gorgeous coffee table photo book of these textures and colors just from these giant planters alone. and in the middle of winter – on one of those cold, grey, sunless days – this book would be an explosion of pantone color charts.

i would be remiss to not offer gratitude to the hard working park staff who carefully plan, plant and care for these stunning displays. we are fortunate to be reminded on every walk that such beauty exists – not only naturally in meadows and forests – but also with a great deal of tending by real people taking exquisite care of flowers growing in our town. a community becomes what people put into it. and though the textures and issues of our community go beyond the flowers, i am grateful for the acknowledgement that this beauty counts.

now – in too-easy juxtaposition – i could easily launch into a tirade about the utter level of ugly – and of unhappiness – that is permeating this country. the cruelty and – truly – twisted torturous devices – both emotional and physical – that are being subscribed to in an effort to make this country what it is not – homogenous.

each and every day i am shocked to my core – nauseated – to see the newest iteration of unlawful ruling or order or statement, the lies, the misinformation, the hideous display of conscience-less immorality, the destruction of national parks and of beautiful resources that make this country unique. every day i cannot believe the depths to which this nation is sinking. every day i am floored by a legislative branch doing nothing to stop this horrific madness. it is utterly devastating – this reprehensible movement. a country becomes what people put into it. and i am left wondering what exactly is being acknowledged as the things that count here.

what is happening all feels catastrophic to me. i know that we cannot do nothing – we cannot hide our heads in the sand while this hideousness just takes over a nation filled with possibility offered by its diverse textures and colors.

we are so much more than the ugly we are witnessing, so much more than the ugly that is in charge, so much more than the ugly that is permeating our every day – in every mind-boggling, on-all-fronts way they can find.

it is up to all of us to put a stop to all this.

every single attempt at beauty counts. every single attempt to stop ugly counts.

we need to fill up and get about it.

we will become what we put into it.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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