this is starting to look like my yearly mid-summer post

First things first. I did not create anything all year.

There. I said it. I feel relieved from my self-imposed guilt. Since when has not creating for art's sake been a crime or a sin?

I've considered changing my blog's name. I've not dwelt in my studio, let alone set foot in this secluded room of my house since last year. I'm almost afraid of seeing all that mishmash of art and scrapbooking supplies. A glaring testament to excess, to indulgence that was left unchecked. But in truth, all that clutter has come to symbolize my disorganized life.

Oh, I will say this much.

My friend and constant companion of fourteen years, THOR, died last February 22nd 2011.

My mom, with whom I've been estranged for more years that I can admit, died last May 12th.

My cousin, Allen, is going through yet another round of chemo.

The kids are alright. They're acting like typical (translation--obnoxious, moody, hooked on Facebook) teenagers. And maybe, I'm the only one in the world who don't have perfect teenagers.

El hubby and I are alright. I coming home to him. He is the only one who can say I'm such a b* and the most difficult person to live with and figure out and love me anyway. Or, as I see it, he's simply gotten resigned to his fate ha ha ha.

I wasn't gonna mention work. That thing that I do 5-6 days a week, twelve hours a day. It really doesn't sound all that bad! But if I did start writing about work, I will ramble on and on I'm afraid.

In a word--blessed. I've decided the other day that it's become clear to me. My work is no longer work. It is a calling. I feel blessed to be included in the lives of young children with specific disabilities. Correction: The children have included me into their lives. This is the best and most amazing treat! To them, I'm just a big kid, not much older than them (in heart and soul)...

That was how the year was for a weary, ol' soul such as I.

And if I had actually planned it out well enough, I would've had more than a few scrapbooking pages to journal about, eh?

Well, along the way, I misplaced myself. Temporarilly.