Raise your voice.

I’m posting this because, with the new WordPress back end, I seem to be unable to arrange my widgets, so the icon ended up way down at the bottom of the page. And I want it at the top!

So, here it is. I’m looking forward to seeing the online community raise our collective voices, and spread a little bit of awareness. A big thanks to Kerri for setting all this up.

Endo appointment went pretty well. Nothing new on that front. I did get a prescription of 5 mg of Lexapro / day for anxiety related to low blood sugar. We’ll see if that helps bump the A1C down a bit more! I’ve been taking it for two days, and so far it’s okay. It’s half of the starting dose that gets prescribed for depression… evidently in small amounts it is effective against anxiety. This is my first foray into psychiatric medication, and I hope it’s a good one!

I finally finshed my husband’s website, which I have been meaning to finish for months. It’s a heavily altered template, but I hope it looks nice enough. You can visit it here. I also put up a little site for etching, which is here. No more site building for a while.

You win some, you lose some. I have a heck of a cold at present, which is no fun, and which I am hoping (finger crossed!) stays in my head and away from my bacteria-loving lung cavity. The good, though, is that at a visit to my pulmonologist, my latest X-ray looked a bit better. Just a bit. But I’ll take it!

Tomorrow is my endo appointment. I’m hoping it’s fairly painless.

I’ve been tagged for the hardest meme ever. This one really stumped me, and my response is pretty awful, but I’m posting it anyways because I can’t think of anything better and because I want to get on to the tagging part! These are fun to read!

So, the meme.

I was tagged on my printmaking blog by Sherrie of Brush and Baren (thanks, Sherrie! 🙂 ) I’m answering here because I don’t know enough fellow printmakers yet to be able to tag 5 folks!

Six Word Memoir

Here are the rules:

1. Write your own six word memoir

2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like

3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere

4. Tag five more blogs with links

5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

And my answer:

In search of balance, heart open.

Yeah, I said it was lame. But it’s honest, and I tried.

On to the tagging! I tag Amylia, Mandy, Scott, Hannah, and Scott. Ha! No fair hating me. 😉

I love my press! Hooray! Here’s the first print I made with it. I’ll be keeping all of the rest of this printmaking talk on my printmaking blog, but I felt like it was a bit of a loose end to make so many posts about my press and then never show any results. So here’s this one print. And now, back to the regular ramblings.

finished print

My press is coming. Between 11am and 1pm. Yay! 

I am so, so excited about getting my etching press. It should come either this week or next. I’ve actually set up a blog about etching, so that I’ll keep most of that stuff off of this one, and you can check that out here, if you’re curious. As I get to working on prints, it will likely be mostly images of work in progress, but for now it’s more about ideas and process. Although art and diabetes are both a part of my life, and this blog is more about general life than diabetes, I chose to create a separate blog about art things so I can share those things with people with whom I might not share more personal aspects of my life.

I’m beginning to feel normal again. It’s really only just been in this last week or two. I’m almost afraid to say it. I’ve been knocked down more times than I care for lately, and being able to get through a normal day feels like one of those luxurious things that one doesn’t talk too much about, for fear it will be taken away. But I’m trying not to think that way, and focusing on enjoying the heck out of every capability I have at present, and hoping for continued recovery from this latest valley fever episode. I apologize for my absence from the blogosphere and all the comments that I thought but didn’t type… I’ll work on doing more typing this week!

More than anything else right now, I’m feeling grateful. I hope that each of you are finding your weeks off to wonderful beginnings, and full of promise and hope.

When I was a little girl, and all the way up until I left for boarding school at 13, we would spend most of our summer weekends and a fair number of our summer weekdays at the lake. The lake was officially South Holston Lake, though it was never anything but “the lake” to us. It was decent sized, a couple of miles wide at its widest and about 20 miles long, and our house there was at the widest point, near the dam. The water was clear; you could see the bottom at 20 feet. The far side of the lake was park of some kind, maybe a national forest, or maybe a state park, and as such was uninhabited and lovely. Soft ridges in pretty Appalachian blue.

I would fish a bit, though never with the enthusiasm of my brother. I fished with a bagel and a bucket, mainly to admire the bluegills. Leaning off our dock, I would submerge the bucket about 8 inches under the water and hold a bagel down at the very bottom. When a curious fish would swim inside for snacks, I would pull the bucket and the fish up. They were grayish, but every now and then in the bright sun their sides would show flashes of cobalt blue, like labradorite. We never ate mine, although they were big enough that we could have, and we did sometimes eat the ones my brother would catch with a line. Everyone knew that mine were only for looking at, and letting go.

By early June there would be fireflies. The drive to the lake house took about 15 minutes from our house, and shortly after leaving town it was very rural. There were farms, one or two convenience stores, and views of the Blue Ridge mountains in all directions. Towards the end of the drive, before the road deteriorated into its series of hairpin turns and steep drops, there was a big white oak tree in a small valley, on the edge of a creek. That was the firefly tree.

When you caught it just right, the whole tree would glow and pulse and sparkle. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen since. As if the tree was on fire with pale green, with embers lifting up into the night sky in graceful arcs and sprays.

There’s something about the way this town smells as it works its way into spring that reminds me of the lake, and the firefly tree. A watery, green smell. It makes me feel ten years old again.

South Holston Lake

I started out on the fence, not sure if I preferred Clinton or Obama. A few months ago, I leaned heavily towards Obama. This move by the Clinton camp is just another reminder of why. I went from being enthusiastic about both candidates to being deeply embarrassed for one.