Our House

Twenty-three years ago today, on January 19, 1997, we first walked into the house that was to become our home.  We arrived from Chicago the day before and were looking for a place to rent, not buy.  The moment we entered we knew we absolutely had to have it.  We put in an offer the next day.  It took some finagling and the help of family and six weeks later it was ours.

It has been the happiest of places, filled with love.  It has been the saddest of places, the home of a broken heart.  It has provided shelter to three dogs and two birds, a devoted married couple and a devastated widow.  It has been a place of refuge and a place of angst (think nasty neighbors).  It has hosted band practice and countless dinners.  Music and laughter still echo from its corners. It is the place where we fought and made up. It is the place where we laughed and cried.  It echoed with the howls of anguish after a failed IVF cycle.  It is the place that recharged us after long days of work and a week of business travel. It is the place we returned to after learning of the death of my dad and fourteen years later, the death of my mom.  It was the home to which Sonnet traveled across the country with us to spend her last four years and the home that Kona traveled from Texas to live in with his new family. It is the home that Zora traveled to from SoCal to bring joy to two people recovering from the loss of their goofy lab. It was the home that Bubba settled into after being abandoned by his family of twenty years and where he passed being loved on.  It is where Phoenix would scream his lungs out and where he would cower when a hawk would fly close to the window. It is the very sacred space where Tom took his last breath It was Our House. And it was a very very fine house.

I love it today just as much as the first day we moved in.  I still remember the feeling walking down the stairs the first morning thinking "this is ours".  I felt it was the beginning of something great, that we had arrived.  We would stand on our deck at night and marvel at the stars, which could never be seen in Chicago, and admire our view and talk about our home in Chicago where the view was of two brick walls, a used car lot and a tree.

This place, these four walls and the roof, this mass of concrete, wood, metal, glass, gyp board and paint, is far more than a house.  It is a home, my home.  I am extremely grateful for it.  Every time I walk through the door my heart and breathing slow and my shoulder relax because I am home.  Of course the happy greeting by Zora will always make me laugh.  It is now my home--the place where I have healed.  It is still filled with that love and good juju.

The Photographic Journey Part Five

My photographic journey has been an experience.  I never really thought about it as experience, focusing more on the outcome, the photos.  I neglected to understand the most important part of the process, the actual shoot, the day you stand in front of the camera and contort your body to make yourself look good.  Do not underestimate the value of good lighting and professional hair and makeup to change your everyday self into your "OMG is that me?" self.

The photoshoot with Zora was really two parts.  The first, Zora in the studio.  The second, Zora and I in the park.  The images of Zora in the studio are precious.  She was such a good girl and worked really hard to please me.

Zora the Princess

Zora the Pathetic Abused Dog

Zora the Catcher

The photographer captured her personality.  And her beauty.

The images from the park captured exactly what I had told the photographer that I wanted, our interaction.  What surprised me was how much Zora looked to me, how she would focus on me. The shoot provided some amazing art.

Sunset Silhouette 

One of the things that I came to realize during the photoshoot and shortly thereafter was the job that Zora took on after Tom died.  I believe he told her to take care of her mama and she took his request to heart.  She has become much more protective of me. And while she has people in her life she absolutely adores like her buddy Christine and her Aunties Mary, Dawn, Holly and Rena, her first priority is her mama.  She looks at me with love, mostly.

On the Bridge

In the Park

On the Bench

This dramatic image now hangs in my bedroom.  There is something about it that speaks to my soul.  My pup and me gazing out over the valley and admiring the sky, together.

And finally, our "Gone with the Wind" photo.  It hangs on the mantle, and it says everything about surviving, and moving forward.  Me and my pup.

Regrets and Lessons

I wrote this in 2019.  The lesson has been driven home even more since then.  My beloved big brother died in August of 2020.  Tom's big brother, my "udder brudder" died five months later.  And not quite a year after that, a few short months ago, my brother's wife and my precious sister-in-law also left us.  These words, which I hadn't yet published, are still true, and ever more powerful.  We've survived a pandemic,  One of the things to come out of the pandemic is the "Great Resignation".  Workers have re-evaluated what is important to them and are making hard choices.  Employers are also having to adjust if they want to keep qualified workers on their teams.  It is, in my opinion, a good thing.  A little late for me as I slide toward retirement in the next five years.  Take heed.  

"It has been a long few months. Work has been intense, and fast paced, and frustrating, and brutal.  I have worked more hours in the last year than I have in several.  And in all of the work, I gave up so much of my life.  Work has taken over my life.  It has taken from me the time to care for myself, my home, my health, my sleep, my pup.  It has taken the fun from my life.  When I do have a day off, I'm so tired that I can't get on my motorcycle.  I don't get on it when I'm tired.  It is dangerous.  Work has taken my time and energy to build a new life. It is not a new story.

After a particularly intense work-filled weekend I headed into a two-week run of meetings.  On that Monday morning I approached the trailer, rolling my case along with me I thought "I don't want to do this."  That isn't how I usually feel as I approach a round of meetings.  I'm usually excited and pumped to do it.  But that morning I had nothing left.  I realized that I did not survive the last five years to work like this.  I did not survive Tom's illness and his death, two heart surgeries and a rare dangerous complication to do "this." This is not what I want for my life.  Don't get me wrong, I love the work. What I don't love is the unrelenting pressure and the demanding schedule.  This is not the quality of life that I now want.

I harken back to the biggest friction in our marriage--it was how much I worked.  And how much I traveled. All of that time that I put into my job and for what?  My clients didn't care what I sacrificed. And the firms I worked for certainly didn't care.  All they cared about was how happy the client was (I always had happy clients) and how much money they made. But they didn't care about me, or my life, or my husband's life.  That was true for most of my professional life.  I will say that I have been fortunate that in the last six years I have worked with a stunningly good firm and had stunningly good clients who were so very kind to me when Tom died. I was blessed at that time to be working with good-hearted, solid kind people.  The antithesis of my previous experience where I spent so much time crisscrossing North America for a different firm that didn't care at all.  Some individuals may have cared, but the firm and leadership as a whole did not.

The hard pill to swallow is that I am not the victim here.  I made the choice to do those things.  I thought that there would be some special reward at the end of the line.  Some type of recognition.  There wasn't.  Any loyalty was not reciprocal.  I had been sold a bill of goods about working hard and being rewarded for your hard work.  I bought it hook line and sinker.  And the sad part is that I learned way too late in my life it wasn't true.  I don't know why, exactly, that I have been so driven to get on that treadmill and put so much effort into a project.  I do love the work and the process.  And I love solving problems for my clients and building the relationships.  But why am I pushing so relentlessly, and why do I continue to do this to myself?  At this point, the only way out is through.  And I will need to endure and try to find ways to lessen the pressure cooker.  I am certain that the stress contributed to the reoccurrence of my aFib and the need for a second surgery.  Trying to answer this question will take more than a blog post to unravel.  Bottom line is that I am the only person who can change this. And I will have to figure it out.

As I was bemoaning my situation Friday to my brother (who is just like me in this regard--actually he is much worse), I wanted to drive home the point that time in finite.  Time with the people you love is finite.  One will never know when a moment could be the last.  And all of the extra time spent at the office or working for the client or being on the road to land the next big project or trying to impress the boss--

YOU. NEVER. GET. IT. BACK.    

EVER.  

Work is a necessary evil and can also be a rewarding experience.  I've enjoyed my career.  I've felt drawn to and committed to the work.  I have believed it was important work, that it made a difference in some small way.  Even if the only thing it did was support us so Tom could do the work he was meant to do, which really was important work.  My work serves it purpose.  My problem is balance.  I suck at it.  I keep trying and I keep failing.  I have had the hard lesson put right in front of my eyes.  All Tom wanted from me was to spend time together.  It was that simple.  What a fortunate woman I was, and what a clueless one as well.

I know you have heard it before but I am the lesson.  Put first things first.  Spend time with the people you love.  That is really all they want from you.  And it is the very best gift you can give them.  You.  Your time.  Your love.  They are what matters. And you are what matters to them."

The Photographic Journey Part Four

I've said many times since Tom died that Zora saved my life.  She was the only reason I got out of bed the next morning, and every morning after.  She couldn't lose both her daddy and her mama.  She needed me.  And I needed her. She has made it her mission to protect me, to take over for her daddy.  She has taken her responsibility very seriously and done it very well.  I wanted to honor her and do a photo session--a professional one since she isn't a big fan of Mom behind the camera.  Zora's walker had told me about a photographer who does amazing pet photography and I had been following her page on FB.  I loved her work and reached out to her to talk about a shoot. I told her I wanted to capture the many personalities of Zora and our interaction together.  Barbara had us come over to her studio to talk and to see how comfortable Zora was in the environment with the lights and camera.  Zee was a trooper and did great.  We scheduled a date, which we had to reschedule at the last minute.  Then a coveted Saturday date opened up and I jumped at it.

So on a Saturday evening Zora and I jumped in the car and made our way over to the East Bay spending way too much time sitting on 37.  Once we arrived Zora quickly set about checking out the space which was all set up and ready for her.  We started the shoot and Zora did great. She listened well, did as she was asked and was easy to bribe with Charley Bears.  Barbara said that Zora was part of the 1% of dogs who get to be in the studio without a leash.  After we finished in the studio we headed to a local park for outside shots with both of us.  I was much more comfortable in front of the camera this time.  The photographer said she should send all of her clients for their goddess shots before coming to see her.  I was easy to direct and she could focus on the dog. Again Zora did great, even with all of the new smells.Barbara noted that Zora wouldn't take her eyes off of me.  When we are at home she either ignores me or runs away because she thinks I'm going to do something to her ears or her toenails.  I didn't realize how much she focused on me until we had this experience.  I saw a few of the shots in the camera and they looked fabulous. After two hours of shooting we got back in the car and Zora conked out--she was exhausted.  I was so very proud of her and how well she did.  And I found the experience with her bonding.

A week later I received the proofs.  They were awesome.  And it was so amazing to see how much Zora kept looking at me.  The photos of us together were so sweet and loving, you can see the connection.  And the studio photos of Zee were great.

The first finalized photo is so dramatic.  As I was reviewing the images with Barbara, she described what she saw in this image as this "What I see in this image is a devoted pup looking so lovingly at her Mom who is recovering from her horrible loss and has begun to spread her wings in a life affirming and sassy way! Sniff...."   I fell in love with the image in an entirely new way.  Remember, one of the things that I wanted from this journey was to see how others see me.  

The Photographic Journey Part Three

Four weeks can go by so slowly when you are waiting for something you want.  My wedding anniversary was approaching and I was hoping to get at least the images in my wedding dress in time for my anniversary. I was anxiously checking my email awaiting notification that the images were ready.  And then on a Saturday evening, the email arrived.  Heidi had told me to look at the images on the biggest screen available and to not review them on my phone.  I found it interesting that I was nervous about looking at them.  I was afraid I would be disappointed, that these fabulous photographers would somehow fail when it came to making me look good.  I put off looking at the images.  I made myself a lovely dinner.  Then I figured out a way to hook my laptop up to my television.  It was time for the reveal. The first image came up.  Wait, what?  Who is that?  That couldn't possibly be me.  Wow.  I continued to scroll through the images, amazed at each one.  And then this photo appeared.

It took my breath away.  It was amazing!  It so clearly conveyed a story, the story I wanted to tell, of love and loss and beauty and grief and memories and beauty within tragedy and power.  It was all of those things and more.  I was stunned.  And I was stunned that I could use the word stunning about any image of me.  I scrolled through the images again, and again and again.  I went to bed with so many thoughts running around in my head.  I woke up the next morning and looked at them all again.  Do I really look like that?

Or this?

Or this?

Who is this person?

I certainly wasn't disappointed in the images,  I was awestruck. The outsides look fabulous.  But what I really noticed is that these pictures reflected my insides, my spirit.  I could see me, different sides of me, different looks of me.  When I look at the series of selfies I've taken, they all look alike--same head tilt, same smile, same angle.  I edit the picture that I put forth to the world.  We all do, we see ourselves as one dimensional when we self-edit.  We criticize everything we don't like about ourselves and nit pick every imperfection in each of our photos.  In an unusual twist, these photographers do not give you all of the proofs to look  at then choose the ones that you like for further editing.  They make the selection, do the editing and then send them on to you.  It is a scary thing to put one's trust in others to choose, it limits one's ability to self edit and reinforce the self perception that one puts out into the world.  But I put my trust into the process and I wasn't disappointed.  As a photographer I know that when I review images after a shoot, there are ones that grab my attention and those are the ones I focus on.  It was an act of faith to let the control go.  And it was very freeing because it took the responsibility off of me to decide.

About a week later I shared my photos and the story in the FB widows' group that I have been a part of for almost five years.  I received lots of compliments but that really wasn't the point.  What struck me is how some women viewed themselves in such a negative light.  They, like many women, have negative self talk in their heads. They also have survived tragic and devastating loss which further impacts their self image.  It sparked something in me.  I'm not sure exactly what to do with the thoughts.  One thing I do know, the process of going through the first two shoots has been transformative.

And there are two more to go.

Photo Credit: In Her Image Photography

The Photographic Journey Part Two

Preparation for a photo shoot is a process.  There are decisions to be made about clothes.  What is the image one wants to project?  What photographs well?  What looks good on my body?  What colors look good on camera and against the skin and the backdrop.  And what jewelry to wear with outfits?  What about shoes?  Will they be seen in the shot?  And then there is hair and make-up?  Do my own?  Hire a professional?  Decisions. Decisions.

I had learned that when doing a photo shoot you need a lot more make-up than one would normally wear because the lights and camera absorb it.  What would seem in the mirror to be the amount of make-up a hooker would put on before heading out to work, looks like you've barely put on enough make-up to define the fact that you have eyes and lips.  During the previous week I did a dry run.  I tried on different outfits to see how they would look and fit and if they would look good on camera.  Its a deal.  There is a reason people hire stylists.

The morning of first photo shoot dawned.  It was August and it was warm.  The photographer was going to come to my house to do the head shot and then we were going to head outside.  I had spent way to much time doing my hair and make-up.  I had decided to do my own for the first photo shoot.  I was ready.  Selfie to start.

Selfie before the first shoot

I was nervous, after all, I'm used to being behind the camera.  Dennis, the photographer arrived and set up.  We did the test shots.  I was so uncomfortable.  I felt stiff, I looked stiff.  I was worried about how I looked and how I was smiling.  I was doing a lot of negative head talk.  It showed.  We finished the head shot and then headed to downtown to do some outdoor shots.  It was hot out.  And I was still uncomfortable.  There was a lot of snapping going on but, truth be told, I was literally a hot mess.  It was so warm that we called it a day and Dennis agreed to finish up a few days later.  I could see in the photos that I was really not having a good time.

Day One 

Day One 

There were several more shots taken after these.  The photographer didn't even show them to me.  They were that bad.

Two days later I was scheduled for my goddess photo shoot (not the word I would use about myself, but it works).  I had my outfits picked out and I had booked professional hair and make-up.  In my prep sessions with the photographer I told her that I wanted to do a shoot in my wedding dress--my 25th wedding anniversary was coming up and I loved my dress and I wanted to honor the day.  She was so supportive of the idea.  So on Saturday I loaded up all of my stuff and headed up to the studio.  I met the make-up artist and was glammed up.  All the while with the negative self talk--I'm too old, my eyelashes had almost disappeared because of the medication I had been on, my jawline was slack, blah blah blah . . .  She was wonderful and she did a great job--I looked almost presentable.

Ready for the Shoot with Elise the Magician

The photographers arrived and I felt so unworthy and insignificant until we started to interact.  When we first started we did a lot of talking, they asked about things I liked, anything to get the conversation going and get me comfortable.  As we talked, Heidi would give me directions on how to pose and Tara would assist with lighting and wind.  We would laugh and talk and then I'd be in a different pose--sometimes I felt like a contortionist.  We joked that it wasn't good unless it hurt.  I now have an entirely new respect for models.  After the first outfit change we jumped in the car and headed out to a park where more photos were taken.  A quick clothing change in the car and it was round three.  We headed back to the studio and did the last outfit before it was time to put on my wedding dress.  I had a vision in my head what I wanted and I shared it with Heidi and Tara.  I was asked what song would be appropriate to the vignette.  I chose "Color My World" by Chicago.  It was the only song that Tom sang with the band and he would always dedicate it to me.  It was followed by several other tunes by Chicago.  Tara was working the lights and the fan.  I looked over at her and I saw that she was tearing up.  Heidi then asked me what my favorite dance song was--"Uptown Funk"  She told me to get up and dance.  How often do you get to dance in your wedding dress again?  I remember how much fun it was to dance in at my wedding.  By the time we were done for the day I felt so different.  I felt confident and comfortable and mentally and physically exhausted. I don't know how to describe it, but the day was an event, a transformative one.  I would not see the images for another month.  It was going to be a long wait.

The next day I had the follow-up shoot scheduled with the first photographer.  I slept in the makeup since it was so awesome. It held up well overnight. I should always look this good in the morning.

Makeup Survives the Night

It was going to be another hot day and I really didn't want to be a hot mess again, but it looked likely.  I changed into my outfit and waited for Dennis to arrive.  We did the first several shots in my house.  I wanted to stay cool.  He didn't have lights with him, so we worked with reflectors and he took some interesting shots.  It was different this time, I was so much more comfortable in my body, how to position it, and in following direction.  The pictures showed that I was more relaxed.  We headed over to the bridge over the creek in the valley for some outdoor shots.  It was really hot out, but we were able to get some work done and we wrapped it up.  I had images within a few days.  I was happy with them.  I could see the difference from a few days earlier.

            

I was half way through my plan.

The Photographic Journey Part One

Transformation comes from the darnedest places in the most unexpected ways.  Sometime in August I had a niggling idea to do a utilitarian photo shoot.  I needed a new head shot.  And I needed some decent photos to enter the online dating world.  Selfies only take you so far.

May 2019

June 2018 before Widow Sister Wedding

April 2019

So I decided I would do it, and the idea started to expand.  I wanted to showcase who I was now.  How do I do that?  What things do I represent?  There is me, my motorcycle, my dog, my professional life and my casual side.  I researched photographers and found one that looked like a good fit.  I scheduled a date for the first shoot.  I shared about my idea on one of my FB widow's group.  One member reached out to her photography group and provided me a lead for two other local photographers who would be interested in working with me.  What started out as a pretty utilitarian idea started to morph into something else.  I realized it was a stretch to expect one photographer to accomplish all things.  I decided to reach out to different photographers, matching their best skills to what I envisioned.  One of the photographers that was referred to me from my FB widow sister happened to be in nearby Petaluma.  I checked out their website and was blown away at what I saw, their passion to help women find their inner Goddess.  I knew these were photographers with whom I wanted to work.  I also knew of a pet photographer that did amazing work.  And a friend who is finding her footing in photography and a motorcycle rider seems like a good fit for the motorcycle shoot.  An overall plan started to take shape.  And then it started to happen . . .

Self doubt.  So much self doubt.  The rationalization of why I would do this.  Its a lot of money to spend on a luxury.  And how vain is it to want to have pictures taken of you?  I had lots of good reasons to do this.  First of all, I've had a good year work wise and there is a little bit of extra money.  I needed a new headshot for business.  And then there's that whole dating thing, a thing that I find embarrassing to talk about it.  In my mind I believe everyone is wondering who would want to go out with me?  Who do I think I am to hope for a second great love in my life after having such a wonderful husband.  Shouldn't that be enough?  Oh, and I've lost about 14 stone over the last year and half (do the math on that one).  And let's not forget the piece de résistance--in the last five years I've survived Tom's diagnosis, illness, death, two cataract surgeries, numerous heart tests, two heart surgeries and constrictive pericarditis.  Wow.  A Lot. I survived.  Its not the typical milestone event like graduation, engagement, weddings, children, etc.  Widowhood is its own unique milestone and not one to be celebrated.  Surviving and thriving, perhaps.  Finally a good friend told me to stop justifying my desire to do it.  It wasn't necessary and I didn't need any one's permission.  That's why we have friends.  To state the obvious and push you in the direction you want to go.

The story started to change for me.  Besides the obvious reasons, I am in still in the place of rebuilding my life, trying to figure out who I am now and who I want to be.  And one of the keys to that, for me, is seeing myself through other people's eyes.  Which is not the same as seeking other people's approval or compliments.  We only see ourselves through the mirror or in photos.  In this age of selfies, we self edit what we put out into the world so that it is in alignment with how we see ourselves.  It can be very limiting to our self perception.

So the journey has begun.