Meth in Paducah

I have been hearing a few, as in a whole bunch,
of stories and rumors about the meth problem in this tiny town.
It's mentioned in the newspaper a lot.
It's on the news a lot.
And people talk about it a lot, too.
Lots of people are getting arrested every week here in McCracken County.
Wild stuff.
It is all the buzz...pun kinda intended.
In fact, one of my neighbors came over and introduced herself today.
I was not shocked when just 5 minutes into the conversation she said she used the word meth.
She said they drugs were really bad two blocks over.
" Meth users and crack houses."
"Seems they would be called meth houses.", I suggested.
She said "Yes, technically, I suppose they would be meth houses." She looked at me strangely.

I changed the subject.

I tell you this: Thank God this stuff wasn't around when I was in high school.
Back in the 80's kids their fair share of experimentation.
Luckliy, nothing back then was that dangerous.
Mainly it was just pot.
Which grows from the earth.
Meth is made in basements and trailers and kitchens from stuff like antifreeze and acetone.
Pot smokersdo NOT wander around in a snowstorm hallucinating like this poor young couple, who eventually froze to death.
Literally. Pot might make you wander into the kitchen for something sweet and salty, but even that would take a lot of gumption.

I don't believe folks today have any idea exactly how crazy this stuff is. Remember New Jack City and the crack epidemic that used to be??
Well, that was just kid stuff compared to these junkies and poor lost causes addicted to meth.
Which rhymes with death.
It seems rightfully so.

I guess this is something new I will get to witness, and report to you about.

Funny, all this time I thought it was the Wal Marts that were killing the small towns of yesterday.
I was wrong.
Apparently, it is a mixture of Drano, Sudafed, and boredom.

Sad.

We Made It!

Alright! I'm baaaaaaaack!
Well, I'm kinda back...

I just had a post written and accidentally deleted it because my mind is on unpacking and garbage bags instead.
This is just a shorty.
I will write more this weekend and let you know how it's going, but so far so good...
except the food sucks real hard.
Luckily, we were mentally prepared for that.
Doesn't make the palate adjust any more easily, however.
Louisville is full of freaking awesome restaurants. One after another after another.
Not the case here. Not even close. I know of one good restaurant and we can't afford to eat there all the time.
In three days I have had Hardee's 4 times. Ick.
Pork Peddler's Buffet once (and no, I'm not making that ridiculous name up)
Sonic once and and awful cajun meal last night from what deceivingly appeared to be a nice restaurant.
At least the beer was cold and they were friendly, so that's something.

It will just take a while to adjust our lifestyle.
I know that.
It just that it is Derby month and we have nothing on our social calendar this weekend,
so I'm kinda freaking out.
Oh well, I'll be in the 'Ville for Oaks and Derby so I'll make up for the lack of excitement then.
You can bet on that.
God, I love Derby, Derby parties, and the freak show that comes along with all of it.
Fabulous trifecta.

I must also let you know how much I LOVE this house.
It is big and grand and full of light.
It has a nice flow and calming energy.
I don't believe it is haunted at all.
( I have a new theory about the increasing numbers of retirement homes and the declining numbers of haunted houses...remind me to post about that sometime)
AND
I can't wait to get unpacked and start painting.
AND
My studio is gonna ROCK.
I am chomping at the bit...my brain is busting at the seems with ideas.
I've gotta make it happen.
I will make it happen.

So.
So much for a shorty post.
I will write something more interesting or humorous this weekend.
Basically, I just wanted to tell you guys I'm here if you need me.
And Seth, the log made it fine. I think I heard it say "whee!" when I was unpacking it late last night.

Missed all y'all!
LL, MLW, Jill, Digital and the gang...
Glad to be be back...thanks for the comments..

And Marcy, thanks for the dread kit house warming package.
That's mighty kind of you.
I can't wait to start that project too!

The Countdown

The moving truck is scheduled to get here sometime between 8-9am to load us up...

I'm nervous...
and excited...
and sad...
and glad it's finally here...
and my toe hurts.

It is now 11:11 PM and I still have things to do...
(make a wish, by the way, for 11:11)

Most lucklily, Mark decided last minute to drive home from Paducah, to help me out.
He should be home about 2am.
This is wonderful news because I must admit, I really don't have my act completely together...
AND I ripped my big toenail off on Saturday in a furniture packing/flip flop mishap.
"The Toe" has been a big wrench is my well planned-out schedule.
And it throbs a lot. My toe, that is...not the schedule.

So, I was looking at all the things I need to pack into the teeny Wrangler tomorrow morning.
Hmmm, more than I realized.
Unfortunately, I can't load it up it tonight, because my car gets broken into about once a month by neighborhood scoundrels.
I just had my 6th..yes, 6th, gas cap stolen last week.
I imagine the thieves hiding in some apartment window laughing their asses off at me each time I discover another cap missing. Yeah , yeah...f-ing HILARIOUS! How very clever and mischievous.
But that's another story...

Back to the packing of the teeny jeep...
My list includes, but is not limited to:
two dogs, two cats in crates, my overnight bag, a portrait that is still wet, my flammable painting stuff, 3 plants, a kitty litter box, food for all the animals, both of my laptops, and my comforter. Oh yeah and two crates of booze.
I would also like to take the vacuum sweeper, but unless I let it ride between my legs, it probably wasn't gonna happen.

That is until the phone call... now with my fabulous husband Mark Farmer to the rescue, I can take a minute.
Take a deep breath.
Post a note to y'all and rest ..."The Toe"....which throbs.
Yeah. That's nice.

So I guess that's my report for now.
I'll check back in later this week and let you know how it's going from the new digs.
Wish us luck!
Until then...

Handle with care, there's a log in there.

I am a sentimental sap of the worst kind.
I am particularly reminded of this each time we pack up and move to another household.

Last night I packed up a log.
Yes, you read that right.
A log.
As in, a piece of wood that used to be a branch.
On a tree.
In my grandparent's front yard.

Astonishingly, to most folks, it is a 30-something year old log that has been passed down to me.
It used to sit on a shelf in my grandfather's study and now it is mine.
I keep it displayed next to my grandmother's pretty tea cups.

I suppose it would be safe to say, I am cut from the same sentimental cloth that he was fashioned from.
After all, it was he that cut the branch off the tree and made it into a log 30 something years ago, to be reminded of a moment in time.
And it is I that can cradle a log and weep.

Why the weeping? Because I'm lucky.
Why the log? Because I uttered my first word, "bird", whilst sitting upon the said branch.
Which is now a log.
In bubble wrap.
In a box.
Cherished deeply.
By a lucky and sentimental girl.

Afitchsayswhat?

Man, I have had some crazy dreams lately.

4 nights ago I dreamed I was dating Stiffler from American Pie. We were professing our love for each other on a couch in a parking lot with a lot of drunk people around (one was wearing a wig on top of their head like a hat) He was very sweet in my dream, not like his jerky character in the movie. We were in high school. As I drove off, in a car I have never seen before, he kept saying, call me...I love you, call me.... call me....bye, baby. Strange but sweet.

3 nights ago I dreamed I was working in our back yard when I noticed a man standing on the other side of the privacy fence writing or reading something in a notebook. He saw me looking at him, and I said "Oh I'm sorry I didn't know you were over there". Then he proceeded to climb over the privacy fence and come at me with a piece of lumber trying to knock my block off. I somehow ended up with a chisel in my hand and stabbed him in the neck. Blood was everywhere. Then I called 911 crying "I think I've just killed someone". And the 911 operator wouldn't stop laughing at me. He thought I was kidding. I woke up very distressed. I don't know if I killed the guy, but he was high on crack, I think..and trying to kill me, I might add.

2 nights ago I dreamed I was on some sort of sight seeing trip, by myself, that included bridges and mountains and scary heights and lots of tourists milling about. I was terrified to cross this one specific bridge because there was no railing to keep anyone from falling off and it was very high up on the mountain. Out of nowhere this red-headed outdoorsy-looking older man (think Crocodile Dundee) ran up and grabbed my hand and said, "Come on,
you can't sit there all day!" and we ran across to the other side where there were tons of gift shops and restaurants.
Then we were sitting in a stairwell and I was telling him of my fear of heights while he flirted with me and told me how to steal food from restaurants. Weird! Oh yeah, magnolias were blooming everywhere.

Last night I had a riddle dream. I haven't had a dream like this in a very long time. It's where random images occur and they spell out a clue. In a very long abstract fashion I finally got Isaiah 26:28 as the answer.
So, of course, I looked it up this morning. Well, there is no such verse. However if I flip it around to be 28:26 it is a very short verse that says, " For his God doth instruct him to discretion, and doth teach him". What kind of message is that? Then there's something about beating fitches with a staff and cummin with a rod. Hmmm. Maybe the fella in dream #2 above was over there reading the same verse and thought I looked like a fitch.

Well, I suppose I've been called worse.

Vision at 6

While packing for the big move to Paducah, which will take place Tuesday the 26th,
I found this bizarre photo in an old chest.
I love it so much I had to share it with you.
It was taken in January of 1976 with my Grandfather's camera. I was 6 1/2 years old and he encouraged me to take some photos at a family gathering.
Apparently, I have had a lightly bizarre artistic eye since a very early age.
I remember posing my Mom and her two older brothers (yes, one of them is wearing an Ernie puppet) for this thought provoking and serious photo.
I very distinctly remember telling my Mom to gaze into the distance.
I instructed all of them to not smile.
I'm not sure why I added the Ernie puppet. Irony, maybe?
Who knows but it sure does crack me up.

I only wish I had a scanner so you could see it more clearly.
(I threw my piece of garbage scanner out into the street the other day in a fit of disgust.
Now I miss it) Either way, enjoy, and please share your thoughts on this one if you feel moved to do so.
Here's a clearer version for your viewing pleasure.

Kiawow!

Wedding Musicians,
originally uploaded by Anessa.

Wow.

Kiawah Island was beautiful.
Cold, but beautiful and
I didn't have to wear the denial hat after all, which was also beautiful in a way.

The chilly breeze whipping down the beach was such that I could only bear to strip down to a tank top and cropped jeans. Luckily, once you were laying flat on the ground it was no longer a problem as long as the sun was shining.
Only when standing upright did one second-guess the sunbathing idea.
I still managed to get a very slight bit of sun.
Just enough to resemble the blush of embarrassment.

Here's a neat shot from my cousin's wedding....it couldn't have been any more beautiful.
Did I mention it was beautiful?

I also saw the aura of a flock of pelicans, but more on that later.

Life's a Beach

Yes, I'm getting out the old denial hat and dusting it off today.

You see, I am packing up for a short trip that will entail wearing a bathing suit, quite possibly as early as tomorrow afternoon.

Although I am nowhere close to bikini ready, I am not in the habit of denying myself the pleasures the ocean has to offer.
Nor, the sun.
Nor, tasty food.
Nor, cold beers.

So, instead of freaking out at the state of my rapidly aging and expanding body,
I put a little sunscreen, some cute flip flops, a fun yet modest two-piece, and grab my denial hat on the way out the door.

As long as no cameras record the actual events taking place, this hat works like a charm every... single ...time.

Yeah, I have a lot of hats like that up my sleeve.
Just hang with me and I'll eventually show you all the tricks.

Talk to you as soon as I get back!

Good Stuffin's

I have been meaning to tell you about this station...It's awesome.

I love it, love it, love it.... and would you believe I am NOT sending you to to some ass-kickin' southern rock station?

That would be soooo very predictable of me. Besides, it's too easy to get a regular diet of grit rock on your own.

So, back to the big deal I was making. I have never heard a song I don't like on this station.
If you have itunes, go to the eclectic menu and choose Radio David Byrne.com.
For you left brainer , PC folks, I guess you can just go to DavidByrne.com and log on to the radio station some other way.

Either way, get there.

3 Days in the Life

My goodness this was an awesome weekend!
Mark was out of town, which was the only thing that kept it from being absolutely perfect.
It would have been a lot more fun with him along for the ride, but that goes without saying.

So, even though I was flying solo, I managed squeeze in lots of good stuff. It's good for me to be forced to do things alone, occasionally. Make my own fun, if you will.

The weather was flawless for three days straight and that has the same effect on me as caffeine, so I was flitting about, bounding with energy all weekend long.
Funny, every time I walked by the vacuum sweeper or the mounds of laundry, my boundless energy would wane.
I decided to just stay away from those items and out the door I went.

I took the top off the Jeep on Friday afternoon and didn't need to put it back up until Sunday night. I cruised all over town.
Joy-riding with the radio up, just for the heck of it. Have you ever heard me say how much I love my Wrangler? Well, I do. I love it so much I can't believe I was 34 before I got one. If I had one in high school, or college even, I would have considered myself pretty damn cool. Now I'm surely not quite as cool, but it does make house-wifey chores a lot more fun and I can't even begin to explain why wind in your hair is so liberating. Inarguably, it is.

Friday night I hung out with four of my girlfriends at Shenanigan's Pub. I was home at a reasonable hour and we had lots of fun talking about all sorts or silly stuff. My bar tab was practically nothing without Mark's expensive beers adding to the total. Miller Lite is much more economical than those thick dark pints he loves, plus since I was alone I made myself drink a pint of water in between beers. Water, being the only free beverage I know of, also has a positive economic impact on one's bar tab.

Saturday morning, the fun continued as one of my girlfriends came over for coffee in the courtyard out back. When she left, two of my really funny guy friends came over to buy our fooseball table. They were very much the opposite version of Chip and Dale, the polite chimpmunks, as they wrestled the mighty heavy and extremely awkward game out the door calling each other less than flattering names.

Then it was off to a very late lunch/early dinner (Lupper, as Homer Simpson would say) at O'Shea's patio.
Everyone was out and about.
Hot-rodders,er, I mean, classic cars enthusiasts, parents with strollers, skateboarders, old ladies with dogs, hippies with dogs,
the ice cream man, and lots of bikers (both the kind in leather and the kind in colorful nylon jerseys). Everywhere I looked people were happy. Blue skies and sunshine are profound mood enhancing forecasts, and everyone seemed jubilant. While driving to meet my girlfriends for our lupper date, another friend of mine pulled up behind me at a stop light. I signaled for him to follow me and he decided to join us. Turns out, he was in the mood for lupper, too.
While we were there a couple of his friends joined us for a drink and invited us to see their band later that night.

We decided it was, in fact, waaaay too nice to call it a night and made plans to go see the friend's band, called Dallas Alice at Air Devil's Inn.

While there, I shot a talentless game of pool, talked to lots of nice and interesting people and enjoyed the live music very much. The band had five, yes five, guys playing guitars and one drummer. They were very fun and kinda countryfied,
just like I like it.
Again, being a good girl, I was home by midnight.

Sunday, I visited a life-long childhood friend of mine, that has twin baby girls. We visited for about four hours, took the girls for a long walk in the stroller and out for coffee. Once we got to Heine Brother's however, we remembered that babies don't drink coffee so we just had some ourselves. While out and about we saw another friend that was visiting from Indy and got a chance to catch up with her, too!
On the way home I stopped for my favorite sushi at Amazing Grace.

As the shadows got longer on Sunday,
I squeezed the last delicious moments from of this weekend by treating my beloved pooches to a
long walk at waterfront park. Kids were playing in the fountains and there was a Louisville Bats game at Slugger Field.
It was a wonderful ending to a great weekend.

And to think, we haven't even kicked of the Derby Festival yet...
Whoopee, I can hardly wait!

Pick us, Pick us!

I made these about 2 years ago for the Annual $20 Holiday Show at the Cinderblock.
As I was walking past them today in my bedroom, I found them to be much more interesting than usual.
It was almost as if they jumped out at me with some sort of plea.

Wonder what that was all about?

I think they wanted to be featured on this blog...you know, since they are sparkle jars and all.
So I obliged, of course.

Never turn down a sparkle jar's humble request.

Wet Paint

This is the most recent portrait I have just completed. Right now I'm waiting for the paint to dry.
I signed it so I guess I have decided it's done, unless you guys think I need to change it.... Then I will probably go drag the paint around a little more.

It's much more formal than I prefer, but it's what the client wanted. And he is a prinipal so he probably wouldn't look the same in a, "eat at Joe's" t-shirt. I really like his face.

The subject in the painting is a retiring principal of a county school here in the very heart of Kentucky.
The photo was taken in 1992, and it is the photo his wife loves the most. His staff gave me a stack of school photos to work from. Kinda interesting to see him change over a period of many years, documented at the same time every year.

I hope I get to meet him sometime. He looks like a nice guy and they are going to so much trouble for his retirement, I'm probably getting the right vibe. The portrait will hang in the hallway of the school. I'm flattered. Oh yeah, the portrait is a total surprise they will be giving him at his retirement party, so if you recognize him, don't tell him about it!


Here are the school photos I used for my main references.

I'm now focusing all my energy on a portrait of a smiling Golden Retriever named Ben. So far it's looking great... stay tuned.
If you haven't visited my site in a while, it has temporarily moved, it is here now. Check it out!

Did I just quote Skynard?

My head is, again, full of crazy ideas and my soul is restless for adventure and change.

I think maybe this is a cyclical disorder that I have always been stricken with.
Quite possibly from the moment I hit this earthly atmosphere.

The need to see, and do, and socialize, experience new spaces, and have new adventures, is ever-present and always tugging at my shirt tail. Sometimes it's more pronounced, but it happens without fail, at least a few times every year.

Year, after year, after year, especially when the seasons change, you can pretty much see me mentally packing my bags and constructing our next tour.
It's like I wake up one morning and suddenly feel the irresistible desire to stir the dust up again in my life and rebuild things from square one.

Neither one of us like to let the dust settle for long. I think that's why we move so often.

Mark grew up moving and traveling so he somewhat enjoys our nomadic lifestyle.
He's always up for the next adventure. He's my partner in crime and in love.
This ever changing scenery has not seemingly put a strain on our relationship.
Actually, after 11 years of marriage, I think the moving and starting over has brought us closer together each time if nothing else.


I'm 90% sure I'm happy in my life this way. I don't want to give anyone the wrong impression.
I'm not tortured by this affliction. In fact, I chase it, to some extent.
I just think life might be much easier if we could let things be and stay put for a while.

I mean, aren't we supposed to be feeling like settling down about now?
Isn't 35 even a little behind schedule?
Shouldn't I be yearning to make pot roast and sudsing up cute babies in the sink?
Shouldn't we be buckling down for the long haul? For retirement and playing bridge?

Even so. Even knowing this and watching the last few of my friends blissfully settling down and starting families,
I, personally, can't stop daydreaming about other things.
Things that have nothing to do with the long haul or practicality.

For example,
This week I am obsessed with growing dreadlocks. Completely impractical, irrelevant and possibly detrimental to the long haul. So, of course, I can't stop thinking about it.
I have also been fantasizing about a sailboat I saw on the river last week and how I wish Mark would teach me to sail.
And today, it's all about how much fun it would be to take of those tiny cute little BMW convertibles on a road trip this summer and how my dreadlocks would be the perfect hairstyle for long road trips in tiny convertibles.

Mark's reasons for excessive relocation are simple and under-analyzed.
He just likes to move and switching jobs is exciting to him.
It's that simple.

I am looking forward to our new adventure in Paducah for these very reasons:
The need to go, and see, and do, and socialize will be necessary to survive in our new tiny town.
We will be close to St. Louis and Memphis, and most importantly, awesome Nashville.
There will be a lot to do, and go, and see from our new nest.
Adventures to be had and people to meet.
A new big old creaky house to decorate and paint and love back to life.
I almost get a high from overwhelming projects such as this.
(Which might explain why 5 of the 5 homes we have chosen to live in have been extreme fixer-uppers.)

I should definitely mention, at this point in my rambling, that I am quite sad to leave Louisville and our group of wonderful, funny, creative, loving, and hyper-social friends. But at the same time, I'm terribly excited to come back and share my stories with them.
Luckily, they all know we will again become restless, in matter of years and want to come back to live among the familiarity. For that they are wishing us well and promising to come visit.

A psychic at a health food store once told me that Mark and I were brother and sister in a past life and our family suffered from a great plague.
We were the sole caretakers of our sick family until finally, we died an untimely death from the same disease.
We died young and tired, together, the closest of friends with a deep connection.
She proclaimed to me, that this time around, in this life, our souls were reunited with the primary purpose of getting a second chance at having fun and being young and having less responsibility.
I remember her words exactly,
"This time, it's all about R&R, baby. Get out there and have some fun."
She didn't even know me, but I think she may be onto something.

I have had infinite conversations with friends over cocktails trying to dissect our behaviors about such things as my restlessness, and their love lives and the paths we choose. We have spent endless hours trying to dissect why we do the things we do.

Could it be I am the way I am because it's a cosmic thing, and just out of my control?
Could it be that it is as simple as that and no amount of analysis will come to any other conclusion?

I'm guessing it absolutley could be a cosmically innate restlessness that stems from the very core of my being.

I'm guessing it might just be a fact of my life, and I'm very lucky I like my life this way.

I guessing I'm extra dang lucky to have hooked up with Mark along the way...

I'm not-so-much guessing this cosmic bird might never change.

Magical Trees

I LOVE Spring!
It transforms our dirty little downtown street into a magical wonderland practically overnight.

Tiny white blossoms carried on the breeze look like snow and the air smells alive, like earth and growth and flowers and life.
If you stand real still I swear you can almost hear the leaves sprouting from branches and flowers popping up out of the ground. You can feel the energy of transformation around you.

Wow, maybe I shouldn't have smoked that hookah pipe with that crazy caterpillar this morning...
(Ha ha. Just kidding, of course...that wasn't a caterpillar.)

I'm definitely treating the dogs to an extra long walk this evening.

Modern Love.

I was surfing around the secrets site and came across a postcard
with a drawing of a girl that looks a lot like someone I know.
The card simply stated, "I will always love her".
First it made me sad.
Then it made made me think about all the people are out there surviving with wounded hearts, secretly loving others.
Which, then, reminded my pea brain of a little phrase I seemed to use, and hear used, a lot in my youth...
Now, though, I can't remember the last time I heard someone say it.
The phrase in question? "From your secret admirer".

Remember secret admirers?
I used to say those words all the time when I was younger.
The secret admirer theme was commonplace on sit coms or in movies and in playful banter.
It was just a possibility and a fact of life, that we all were quite certain of, that you may in fact have a secret admirer somewhere out there.

It was good... and hopeful... and encouraging.

So what happened? Surely folks are still out there secretly admiring others, but we certainly don't hear about it like we used to. Are the secret admirers of yesterday the stalkers of today? Are we in such a state of fear that secret admirers can't be free to express themselves any longer?
If that is the case, it is a crying shame.

I would love to receive a big bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates from someone that secretly admired me.

DING, DONG!
"Whoooo is it?"
"Ma'am, it's a delivery for you."
The door opens to reveal a well pressed delivery man holding a huge bouquet of pink roses and a beautifully wrapped box of chocolate truffles. A simple card is enclosed that reads, "From your secret admirer".

What a wonderful thing that would be.
I would be flattered... and I would probably blush.
And it would be good.
So why aren't people doing this anymore?

Is it fear of being slapped with a restraining order if the identity of the adrmirer was revealed?
Is it we all must have credit where credit is due? Especially if money is being spent?
Is it that romance is dead?
Now we just say what we want and then go a therapist to deal with the rejection?

What a sad state of affairs that would be...

Hopefully, I am way off base and this custom is still being practiced and appreciate by modern lovers.
Hopefully, at this very moment, someone, somewhere, is opening the door to a lovely sentiment sent from a secret admirer.
I choose to believe it still happens and by choosing to believe it can happen, it just might.