(At long last!) QUESTION OF THE WEEK, 04-21-2010

April 21, 2010

I am a quilting wannabe. I have made some quilt projects (nothing fantastic, mostly for my grandson who is not critical of NaNa at all!) and really wish for time to do more. In fact the International Quilt Show was in Rosemont, IL last w/e. What a glorious time. I cannot say, however, that the quilting relieves pain - I am often popping pain meds while sewing. But mentally, I'm transported away from my physical being and into denial. I've had to be creative, such as I no longer crawl around on the floor, pinning quilt layers together. I tackle smaller projects and use high tables. And take my time - no more marathon projects. DonnaFrom: <elizabethrgonzalez@...> Sent: Wed, April 21, 2010 5:01:43 PMSubject: (At long last!) QUESTION OF THE WEEK, 04-21-2010

Dear Feisty Friends,I hope this finds you warming up and seeing some trees in bloom around your neck of the woods.Before I reveal this week's Question, here's a quickie-backgrounde r from my unwritten memoirs:As you may know if you have known me for a while, I gave up all my dreams of being an artiste some time around the second grade. That was when Patty came to our school. Her dad was a commercial artist, and he had taught her some great techniques and tricks. Patty could draw ballerinas in agile poses She could draw a variety of facial expressions and hairstyles. She could draw a person in profile. She could even draw a person in a striped bathing suit who was starting to sink beneath the waves of an ominously stormy sea and was hollering for the lifeguard. I was stunned and admiring. I was astonished and awed. I was completely devastated. I was no longer the best artist in the class. I had

been summarily wrenched from my childish delusions of grandeur and demoted to the #2 position. (Why did I have to be "the best" to engage in a particular activity at all? We will save that inquiry, dear reader, for another post -- or perhaps for my next incarnation, in which I become the Number #1 practitioner in the yet-to-be-witnessed Second Wave of Psychoanalysis and plumb the depths of my own unconscious conflicts, mapping the dark metropolis of Intrapsychic City and publishing five best-selling self-help books in the process.) For the next five decades or so. my personal activities did not include any artmaking whatsoever --well, except for short interludes of spiritual crisis or uplift accompanied by impulsive and happy dabbling (such as the weeks after my son was born in 1982, when I anticipated the popularity of "scrapbooking" by -- forgive me if this sounds too braggy --putting together an imaginative baby book

unlike any I had seen before.Then in 1997, while I was living a reasonably normal and satisfyi!

ng life apart from a few marital woes and fiscal stresses and the usual juggling act required of a working mom -- Sudden Disaster came calling! My insidious inner secret, unbeknownst even to me -- the now-notorious Flatback Syndrome --passed some critical "tipping point." The roof fell in, my world departed from its orbit, and I grabbed for any port in a storm, if you will excuse my mixed, blended, and liquified metaphors here. In the bleak months and years that followed, I dealt with my increasing incapacity by going for longer and longer walks. When I could do almost nothing else anymore, I could still walk, and I continued to do so, even when this required the aid of my trusty walker. And on one particular walk, who knows why, I walked through the doors of a small shop on a sleepy side-street which specialized in selling:-- art supplies! I was transported. I was mesmerized. I was seized by some inchoate, long-forgotten

yearning. By golly, I had to get some art supplies! I just had to! I had to do this, somehow, even on my semi-nonexistent disability income, which barely extended to insurance co-pays! I heard myself asking a personable young woman what they had in their store which might be good to paint with. (That was how ignorant I was at the time.) She suggested acrylics and guided me to the most popular brand. And the rest, as they say, is history. It has taken me some years of gradually turning my dining room into a stash-filled studio full of half-finished mixed-media projects of every description, but I now consider myself (gulp) an artist.Ten years ago, I would not have believed it. I would not have believed how art has taken over my life and nourished my well-being and carried me through crisis and kept me keeping on. Now, please don't get me wrong: I have not progressed even to the point of selling anything commercially

(though I craft lots of gifts for family members). I am a silent nonparticipant, still, at all the artist's blogs !

I now fo

llow. The occasional suggestion that I look into galleries makes me smile indulgently and try not to chuckle at such shameless flattery . . . . but still, in my own way, I have become a person who makes art.So here is my question, and I only hope it is not too far afield or off-the-wall for the majority of participants in the Feisty Forum. Do you have a creative outlet? Do you quilt, cook, illustrate gothic novels or epic poetry, build the next generation of iPads out of salvage-store components and found objects, play with digital photography or giant Leg-os, fire pots in a small kiln in your garage, hook rugs and sell them at etsy.com or simply grace your floors with your handiwork? Do you make wholly new things out of other things? When and why did you start to do this? What does doing this do for you? How does it help you deal, if it does? Write whatever you want on this subject. Write

whatever comes to you. Write with abandon. Spill the beans. Tell us your tale. Give us your insights. This is not a multiple-choice or true and false test. There are no correct or incorrect answers. There is no prescribed format. Participation is optional. I am just intensely curious about how others may have found their way back to art (or never lost it in the first place). Understand that the definition of "art," for our purposes here, is the broadest possible definition. Maybe you create all the henna tattoos for internationally hip young brides in your neighborhood or congregation. Maybe your twice-baked banana-pepper lasagna belongs on the cover of Bon Appetit. Maybe you make dolls or dollhouses for your grandkids which are the envy of their playmates. Maybe you whip up fabulous aromatherapy products from your windowsill herb garden. Maybe sheer necessity has driven you to repurpose and recreate two-thirds of your wardrobe using only

a few packets of dye, a basket of beads and fabric scraps, and your ancient Singer. Maybe you have devised a radical new aesthetic in dog-grooming. Maybe !

you are rehabbing your family room with a single 12-volt drill-driver, a few basic hand tools, and a collection of unorthodox finds from the thrift shop and the plumbing aisles at Lowe's. Please share any stories or thoughts you may have on the subject of creativity in your life.Thanks!

April 22, 2010

Funny you should say that but I am a great believer in crafting in general. I believe that EVERYONE has something creative they can do, and before we are drowned in protests, creative is anything that you make yourself, from cooking to creative writing and knitting to painting. Everyone can do something. You may not even have found that something yet but it's there.My mother was a craft teacher and as such used to try her lesson plans on me, so over the years I have tried most things. I have a qualification (minor but there) in art. And I used to run a craft shop! So I have a bit of experience! lolMy personal favourites are jewellery making and card-making. I'm not very good at jewellery making but have sold

enough pieces that it funds itself. I have had a few commissions, including a neighbour who gave all her female relatives one of my necklaces as a Christmas gifts :)My card-making is my passion though. I make all our own cards (birthday/anniversary/Christmas etc.) I've done party invites a few times and I also take a number of commissions for friends and friends of friends. Unfortunately I'm a bit addicted to it and often spend all my spare cash on new bits that "I couldn't possibly do without!" I love it and find it very therapeutic and a great distraction from pain.It's also a fun activity to do with my children - they make all their own cards for friends and family and often turn out some lovely cards. It's something I can do with them that gives both them and me something - and it's something I can do for much longer than I can

some of the more physical stuff they want to play.My husband is a very talented graphic artist. And my son who has ADHD and aspergers syndrome finds making things his favourite activity (after I make him get off the assorted consoles ) My daughter also doesn't think a day complete unless she has drawn/painted something.so yes you could say crafting has a place in our lives, and I am very grateful for it.From: <elizabethrgonzalez@...> Sent: Wed, April 21, 2010 11:01:43 PMSubject: (At long last!) QUESTION OF THE WEEK, 04-21-2010

Dear Feisty Friends,I hope this finds you warming up and seeing some trees in bloom around your neck of the woods.Before I reveal this week's Question, here's a quickie-backgrounde r from my unwritten memoirs:As you may know if you have known me for a while, I gave up all my dreams of being an artiste some time around the second grade. That was when Patty came to our school. Her dad was a commercial artist, and he had taught her some great techniques and tricks. Patty could draw ballerinas in agile poses She could draw a variety of facial expressions and hairstyles. She could draw a person in profile. She could even draw a person in a striped bathing suit who was starting to sink beneath the waves of an ominously stormy sea and was hollering for the lifeguard. I was stunned and admiring. I was astonished and awed. I was completely devastated. I was no longer the best artist in the class. I had

been summarily wrenched from my childish delusions of grandeur and demoted to the #2 position. (Why did I have to be "the best" to engage in a particular activity at all? We will save that inquiry, dear reader, for another post -- or perhaps for my next incarnation, in which I become the Number #1 practitioner in the yet-to-be-witnessed Second Wave of Psychoanalysis and plumb the depths of my own unconscious conflicts, mapping the dark metropolis of Intrapsychic City and publishing five best-selling self-help books in the process.) For the next five decades or so. my personal activities did not include any artmaking whatsoever --well, except for short interludes of spiritual crisis or uplift accompanied by impulsive and happy dabbling (such as the weeks after my son was born in 1982, when I anticipated the popularity of "scrapbooking" by -- forgive me if this sounds too braggy --putting together an imaginative baby book

unlike any I had seen before.Then in 1997, while I was living a reasonably normal and satisfying life apart from a few marital woes and fiscal stresses and the usual juggling act required of a working mom -- Sudden Disaster came calling! My insidious inner secret, unbeknownst even to me -- the now-notorious Flatback Syndrome --passed some critical "tipping point." The roof fell in, my world departed from its orbit, and I grabbed for any port in a storm, if you will excuse my mixed, blended, and liquified metaphors here. In the bleak months and years that followed, I dealt with my increasing incapacity by going for longer and longer walks. When I could do almost nothing else anymore, I could still walk, and I continued to do so, even when this required the aid of my trusty walker. And on one particular walk, who knows why, I walked through the doors of a small shop on a sleepy side-street which specialized in selling:--

art supplies! I was transported. I was mesmerized. I was seized by some inchoate, long-forgotten yearning. By golly, I had to get some art supplies! I just had to! I had to do this, somehow, even on my semi-nonexistent disability income, which barely extended to insurance co-pays! I heard myself asking a personable young woman what they had in their store which might be good to paint with. (That was how ignorant I was at the time.) She suggested acrylics and guided me to the most popular brand. And the rest, as they say, is history. It has taken me some years of gradually turning my dining room into a stash-filled studio full of half-finished mixed-media projects of every description, but I now consider myself (gulp) an artist.Ten years ago, I would not have believed it. I would not have believed how art has taken over my life and nourished my well-being and carried me through crisis and kept me keeping on.

Now, please don't get me wrong: I have not progressed even to the point of selling anything commercially (though I craft lots of gifts for family members). I am a silent nonparticipant, still, at all the artist's blogs I now follow. The occasional suggestion that I look into galleries makes me smile indulgently and try not to chuckle at such shameless flattery . . . . but still, in my own way, I have become a person who makes art.So here is my question, and I only hope it is not too far afield or off-the-wall for the majority of participants in the Feisty Forum. Do you have a creative outlet? Do you quilt, cook, illustrate gothic novels or epic poetry, build the next generation of iPads out of salvage-store components and found objects, play with digital photography or giant Leg-os, fire pots in a small kiln in your garage, hook rugs and sell them at etsy.com or simply grace your floors with

your handiwork? Do you make wholly new things out of other things? When and why did you start to do this? What does doing this do for you? How does it help you deal, if it does? Write whatever you want on this subject. Write whatever comes to you. Write with abandon. Spill the beans. Tell us your tale. Give us your insights. This is not a multiple-choice or true and false test. There are no correct or incorrect answers. There is no prescribed format. Participation is optional. I am just intensely curious about how others may have found their way back to art (or never lost it in the first place). Understand that the definition of "art," for our purposes here, is the broadest possible definition. Maybe you create all the henna tattoos for internationally hip young brides in your neighborhood or congregation. Maybe your twice-baked banana-pepper lasagna belongs on the cover of Bon Appetit. Maybe you make dolls or dollhouses for your

grandkids which are the envy of their playmates. Maybe you whip up fabulous aromatherapy products from your windowsill herb garden. Maybe sheer necessity has driven you to repurpose and recreate two-thirds of your wardrobe using only a few packets of dye, a basket of beads and fabric scraps, and your ancient Singer. Maybe you have devised a radical new aesthetic in dog-grooming. Maybe you are rehabbing your family room with a single 12-volt drill-driver, a few basic hand tools, and a collection of unorthodox finds from the thrift shop and the plumbing aisles at Lowe's. Please share any stories or thoughts you may have on the subject of creativity in your life.Thanks!

April 22, 2010

Hugo Keim told my mother " the kids with scoliosis become very special

people " ...Well.... because the brace made me so insecure in Jr High, I had a

mission to become famous by my 10th HS ReUnion. It actually took till my 20th

but I started designing sweaters...went from a knitting machine and tons of yarn

thrown into the middle of a room... to 3 factories in brooklyn, articles in the

New York Times... and Crains Business.... and my sweaters in every up scale

store in the US... Then China swooped in and killed the domestic business, and

ended my 10 year run. Went on to design jewelry for a while (actually found

that website is still up www.peribaseldesigns.com) and now.... have recreated

something again. www.ItsTheLatest.com. For all of us who live in flipflops... I

now decorate with Swarovski Crystal for a fraction of what the stores sell them

for. I may not be able to draw but I do create..... google me.... and you will

find my many careers.... sweater business, jewelry business, beauty blogger,

website designer.... and now.... flip flop creator...

April 22, 2010

This may be on the far end of your question. I began playing the clarinet in either 5th or 6th grade. My clarinet teacher happened to be the band teacher/director at the junior high that I later went to. Prior to going to junior high I was diagnosed with an "undefined" learning disability (many, many years later the "undefined" part was diagnosed as a fairly mild Tourette's Syndrome). When I entered junior high through my high school years I had private in school tutoring for the learning disabilities. I was also in band starting in 7th grade. Since it was only "concert band" no marching, and since the band director/teacher was also my clarinet teacher I did fairly well. I was diagnosed with scoliosis while I was in the 8th grade. At that time they simple took the "observation route".

When I entered the high school (10th grade) band included both marching band (during the football season and an annual Memorial Day parade), and concert band. Since memorizing music during marching was practically a requirement, my learning disability made thing difficult. Furthermore, my scoliosis progressed to the point that I began wearing the Milwaukee Brace during Thanksgiving Week of 10th grade (I was in the hospital during that week for "brace training". All-in-all I liked band; however, the band teacher was a "royal son of a B"!!! The learning disability issues, and the issues relating to the brace/scoliosis (marching issues, uniform issues, scoliosis in and of itself, etc., etc.) did not meet his level of a "model student". If I remember correctly my grades during marching band was a "C-" or a "D+". During the rest of the year it was a "B" or "B-". In order to keep band from taking down my overall grade point average, I took the option of taking it "Pass/Fail" (at least during marching band).

This was only part of my issues related to my learning disabilities and scoliosis. I was "medical excused" from most gym classes. I ended up taking an extra health class, and some additional swimming classes. My high school also offered "levels' for many classes. This meant that different grading scales were used depending on the level the student was in. Some classes had combined levels.

I did take a couple of classes in college relating to the clarinet; however, I have done little with it since.

S.

(At long last!) QUESTION OF THE WEEK, 04-21-2010

Dear Feisty Friends,

I hope this finds you warming up and seeing some trees in bloom around your neck of the woods.

Before I reveal this week's Question, here's a quickie-backgrounder from my unwritten memoirs:

As you may know if you have known me for a while, I gave up all my dreams of being an artiste some time around the second grade. That was when Patty came to our school. Her dad was a commercial artist, and he had taught her some great techniques and tricks. Patty could draw ballerinas in agile poses She could draw a variety of facial expressions and hairstyles. She could draw a person in profile. She could even draw a person in a striped bathing suit who was starting to sink beneath the waves of an ominously stormy sea and was hollering for the lifeguard.

I was stunned and admiring. I was astonished and awed. I was completely devastated. I was no longer the best artist in the class. I had been summarily wren

ched from my childish delusions of grandeur and demoted to the #2 position. (Why did I have to be "the best" to engage in a particular activity at all? We will save that inquiry, dear reader, for another post -- or perhaps for my next incarnation, in which I become the Number #1 practitioner in the yet-to-be-witnessed Second Wave of Psychoanalysis and plumb the depths of my own unconscious conflicts, mapping the dark metropolis of Intrapsychic City and publishing five best-selling self-help books in the process.)

For the next five decades or so. my personal activities did not include any artmaking whatsoever --well, except for short interludes of spiritual crisis or uplift accompanied by impulsive and happy dabbling (such as the weeks after my son was born in 1982, when I anticipated the popularity of "scrapbooking" by -- forgive me if this sounds too braggy --putting together an imaginative baby book unlike any I had seen before.

Then in 1997, while I was living a reasonably normal and satisfying life apart from a few marital woes and fiscal stresses and the usual juggling act required of a working mom -- Sudden Disaster came calling! My insidious inner secret, unbeknownst even to me -- the now-notorious Flatback Syndrome --passed some critical "tipping point." The roof fell in, my world departed from its orbit, and I grabbed for any port in a storm, if you will excuse my mixed, blended, and liquified metaphors here. In the bleak months and years that followed, I dealt with my increasing incapacity by going for longer and longer walks. When I could do almost nothing else anymore, I could still walk, and I continued to do so, even when this required the aid of my trusty walker. And on one particular walk, who knows why, I walked through the doors of a small shop on a sleepy side-street which specialized in selling:-- art supplies!

I was transported. I was mesmerized. I was s

eized by some inchoate, long-forgotten yearning. By golly, I had to get some art supplies! I just had to! I had to do this, somehow, even on my semi-nonexistent disability income, which barely extended to insurance co-pays! I heard myself asking a personable young woman what they had in their store which might be good to paint with. (That was how ignorant I was at the time.) She suggested acrylics and guided me to the most popular brand. And the rest, as they say, is history.

It has taken me some years of gradually turning my dining room into a stash-filled studio full of half-finished mixed-media projects of every description, but I now consider myself (gulp) an artist.

Ten years ago, I would not have believed it. I would not have believed how art has taken over my life and nourished my well-being and carried me through crisis and kept me keeping on.

Now, please don't get me wrong: I have not progressed even to the point of selling anythin

g commercially (though I craft lots of gifts for family members). I am a silent nonparticipant, still, at all the artist's blogs I now follow. The occasional suggestion that I look into galleries makes me smile indulgently and try not to chuckle at such shameless flattery . . . . but still, in my own way, I have become a person who makes art.

So here is my question, and I only hope it is not too far afield or off-the-wall for the majority of participants in the Feisty Forum. Do you have a creative outlet? Do you quilt, cook, illustrate gothic novels or epic poetry, build the next generation of iPads out of salvage-store components and found objects, play with digital photography or giant Leg-os, fire pots in a small kiln in your garage, hook rugs and sell them at etsy.com or simply grace your floors with your handiwork? Do you make wholly new things out of other things? When and why did you start to do this? What does doing this do for you? How does it help you deal, if it does? Write whatever you want on this subject. Write whatever comes to you. Write with abandon. Spill the beans. Tell us your tale. Give us your insights. This is not a multiple-choice or true and false test. There are no correct or incorrect answers. There is no prescribed format. Participation is optional. I am just intensely curious about how others may have found their way back to art (or never lost it in the first place).

Understand that the definition of "art," for our purposes here, is the broadest possible definition. Maybe you create all the henna tattoos for internationally hip young brides in your neighborhood or congregation. Maybe your twice-baked banana-pepper lasagna belongs on the cover of Bon Appetit. Maybe you make dolls or dollhouses for your grandkids which are the envy of their playmates. Maybe you whip up fabulous aromatherapy products from your windowsill herb garden. Maybe sheer necessity has driven you to repurpose and recr

eate two-thirds of your wardrobe using only a few packets of dye, a basket of beads and fabric scraps, and your ancient Singer. Maybe you have devised a radical new aesthetic in dog-grooming. Maybe you are rehabbing your family room with a single 12-volt drill-driver, a few basic hand tools, and a collection of unorthodox finds from the thrift shop and the plumbing aisles at Lowe's.

Please share any stories or thoughts you may have on the subject of creativity in your life.

Thanks!

April 23, 2010

Yes! I had always liked drawing and doodling and did well in art class, but

after having to leave work and waiting for my surgery I started sketching again

and, for the first time tried painting. I created an album where you can see a

sketch I done of myself and a portrait I painted of Matt after my

surgery...about 4 months before his surgery actually. I ended up doing portraits

of all three of my kids that i hang in the living room.

And , I don't know about your skill with a paintbrush but I love

reading your messages! You wield a powerful pen!

(and Matt too)

>

> Dear Feisty Friends,

>

> I hope this finds you warming up and seeing some trees in bloom around

> your neck of the woods.

>

> Before I reveal this week's Question, here's a quickie-backgrounder from

> my unwritten memoirs:

>

> As you may know if you have known me for a while, I gave up all my

> dreams of being an artiste some time around the second grade. That was

> when Patty came to our school. Her dad was a commercial artist, and he

> had taught her some great techniques and tricks. Patty could draw

> ballerinas in agile poses She could draw a variety of facial expressions

> and hairstyles. She could draw a person in profile. She could even draw

> a person in a striped bathing suit who was starting to sink beneath the

> waves of an ominously stormy sea and was hollering for the lifeguard.

>

> I was stunned and admiring. I was astonished and awed. I was completely

> devastated. I was no longer the best artist in the class. I had been

> summarily wrenched from my childish delusions of grandeur and demoted

> to the #2 position. (Why did I have to be " the best " to engage in a

> particular activity at all? We will save that inquiry, dear reader, for

> another post -- or perhaps for my next incarnation, in which I become

> the Number #1 practitioner in the yet-to-be-witnessed Second Wave of

> Psychoanalysis and plumb the depths of my own unconscious conflicts,

> mapping the dark metropolis of Intrapsychic City and publishing five

> best-selling self-help books in the process.)

>

> For the next five decades or so. my personal activities did not include

> any artmaking whatsoever --well, except for short interludes of

> spiritual crisis or uplift accompanied by impulsive and happy dabbling

> (such as the weeks after my son was born in 1982, when I anticipated the

> popularity of " scrapbooking " by -- forgive me if this sounds too braggy

> --putting together an imaginative baby book unlike any I had seen

> before.

>

> Then in 1997, while I was living a reasonably normal and satisfying life

> apart from a few marital woes and fiscal stresses and the usual juggling

> act required of a working mom -- Sudden Disaster came calling! My

> insidious inner secret, unbeknownst even to me -- the now-notorious

> Flatback Syndrome --passed some critical " tipping point. " The roof fell

> in, my world departed from its orbit, and I grabbed for any port in a

> storm, if you will excuse my mixed, blended, and liquified metaphors

> here. In the bleak months and years that followed, I dealt with my

> increasing incapacity by going for longer and longer walks. When I could

> do almost nothing else anymore, I could still walk, and I continued to

> do so, even when this required the aid of my trusty walker. And on one

> particular walk, who knows why, I walked through the doors of a small

> shop on a sleepy side-street which specialized in selling:-- art

> supplies!

>

> I was transported. I was mesmerized. I was seized by some inchoate,

> long-forgotten yearning. By golly, I had to get some art supplies! I

> just had to! I had to do this, somehow, even on my semi-nonexistent

> disability income, which barely extended to insurance co-pays! I heard

> myself asking a personable young woman what they had in their store

> which might be good to paint with. (That was how ignorant I was at the

> time.) She suggested acrylics and guided me to the most popular brand.

> And the rest, as they say, is history.

>

> It has taken me some years of gradually turning my dining room into a

> stash-filled studio full of half-finished mixed-media projects of every

> description, but I now consider myself (gulp) an artist.

>

> Ten years ago, I would not have believed it. I would not have believed

> how art has taken over my life and nourished my well-being and carried

> me through crisis and kept me keeping on.

>

> Now, please don't get me wrong: I have not progressed even to the point

> of selling anything commercially (though I craft lots of gifts for

> family members). I am a silent nonparticipant, still, at all the

> artist's blogs I now follow. The occasional suggestion that I look into

> galleries makes me smile indulgently and try not to chuckle at such

> shameless flattery . . . . but still, in my own way, I have become a

> person who makes art.

>

> So here is my question, and I only hope it is not too far afield or

> off-the-wall for the majority of participants in the Feisty Forum. Do

> you have a creative outlet? Do you quilt, cook, illustrate gothic novels

> or epic poetry, build the next generation of iPads out of salvage-store

> components and found objects, play with digital photography or giant

> Leg-os, fire pots in a small kiln in your garage, hook rugs and sell

> them at etsy.com or simply grace your floors with your handiwork? Do

> you make wholly new things out of other things? When and why did you

> start to do this? What does doing this do for you? How does it help you

> deal, if it does? Write whatever you want on this subject. Write

> whatever comes to you. Write with abandon. Spill the beans. Tell us your

> tale. Give us your insights. This is not a multiple-choice or true and

> false test. There are no correct or incorrect answers. There is no

> prescribed format. Participation is optional. I am just intensely

> curious about how others may have found their way back to art (or never

> lost it in the first place).

>

> Understand that the definition of " art, " for our purposes here, is the

> broadest possible definition. Maybe you create all the henna tattoos for

> internationally hip young brides in your neighborhood or congregation.

> Maybe your twice-baked banana-pepper lasagna belongs on the cover of Bon

> Appetit. Maybe you make dolls or dollhouses for your grandkids which are

> the envy of their playmates. Maybe you whip up fabulous aromatherapy

> products from your windowsill herb garden. Maybe sheer necessity has

> driven you to repurpose and recreate two-thirds of your wardrobe using

> only a few packets of dye, a basket of beads and fabric scraps, and your

> ancient Singer. Maybe you have devised a radical new aesthetic in

> dog-grooming. Maybe you are rehabbing your family room with a single

> 12-volt drill-driver, a few basic hand tools, and a collection of

> unorthodox finds from the thrift shop and the plumbing aisles at Lowe's.

>

> Please share any stories or thoughts you may have on the subject of

> creativity in your life.

>

> Thanks!

>

April 24, 2010

In addition to the clarinet/band that I discussed in an earlier post, I had been an avid folk dancer (Israeli) prior to my 1996 spinal fusion surgeries. I danced three nights a week. Additionally, I attended a number of workshops each year, and went to three folk dance camps (Eastern Shore of land, Upstate New York, Montreal Canada) each year.

From the date of my surgeries until this past August I had not danced at all. My problems were (and still are) bending, and fast turns/spins. In addition to finding these moves difficult (I am fused from T9 to S1), I also often feel dizzy. I mentioned this to the Personal Trainer at the Fitness Center that I belong to. She said that the numerous medications that I take for a number of issues may play a part to the dizziness independent of my surgeries; but, she will try to help sort things out. It could be a combination of each!

Time will tell.