Ouch.

So how did I discombobulate my ankle, you ask? Well...

I am in my studio, working, when I realize that it's 12:45. I need to get some clean, non-painty clothes on, because my friend Karen is coming at about 1:15 to take me out to lunch to celebrate my birthday. As I move toward the door to head back up the hill to the house, I hear an explosion of barking and the most horrible goat-y screaming. I grab my glasses and look out the back window, and sure enough, Phoenix, the little one-tentacled boy goat, is in the neighbor's yard harassing their big dog. With one tentacle left, Phoenix is in LUV with anything that moves... I run out the door and down to the gate into the pasture. We have the gate all barricaded and blocked in an attempt to keep the goats in the pasture, so I climb over the gate and jump down, hurrying. I don't really remember how I landed, except that after my left foot hit the ground I think "I broke it."

I holler "No!" at the dog, who gives me one look and then runs away. So the goat is safe--I just need to get him back into our pasture. I think to myself, "Oh, this ankle doesn't seem to hurt much, I think I can walk." So I haul myself up and hobble about twenty steps across the pasture before everything starts spinning around and I start to sweat. I lie down on the rough brown grass and close my eyes. Eventually I feel better again, and walk all the way over to the fence where goat boy is trying to get back into our yard. I collapse again, and this time I can see that my ankle is swelling. a lot, over the top of my shoe. I think "This is not good. Maybe it is broken, after all." There are red ants crawling on me, the kind that bite, so I scooch along on my bottom until I am clear of the ant hill. Suddenly, I hear a sweeping-swooshy noise, and I open my eyes to find I am surrounded by goats: the two fluffy Angora goats, and Phoenix' brother, Gryphon. Clearly, they are confused as to why I am reclining in the middle of their pasture. As big Bill Whickers sniffs at my swollen ankle, I realize I am probably covered in what Jenny calls 'goaty pebbles.'

I know Karen is coming sometime soon, but I worry that she'll go to the house and the studio, and, finding me not there, go back to her house. If she leaves, I'll be lying out there in the pasture until 4 or 5 o'clock.

Eventually Karen comes and finds me hollering for her in the pasture. She gets Phoenix back into our yard. I try to lean on her to get out of the pasture, but it's no good. She says she'll run home to her house to get some crutches.

I lie back in the grass and close my eyes, and then I HEAR him. And I SMELL him. And when I open my eyes, I SEE him, standing over me, leering down at me, because in his puny little mind he's thinking MAYBE THIS IS A FEMALE GOAT. THAT WANTS TO BE BRED. RIGHT NOW.

It's Phoenix, recently rescued from certain doom. Obviously that did not traumatize him sufficiently to dampen his libido.

I push him away. Really, even when I'm in a good mood I don't particularly want to be snorted at, sniffed at, or peed on by a boy goat. (Yes, that really is what they do. Relentlessly. Especially the snorting. And the peeing. Especially the peeing.) And he won't leave me alone. Really, truly, he has only one thing on his mind. He stands with his head stretched out, and there's a maniacal look in his beady, amber eyes. I have no idea how long Karen is gone, but I spend every second of it fending him off.

She told me today that when she got back, he got especially amorous and I slapped him, then turned back to her and said, apologetically, with a glazed look on my face, "I don't normally hit animals, you know."

*****

When my dad was just about the same age I am now, he broke his ankle while hunting in Northern Michigan. He had Heidi, his German short haired pointer with him, and was out in the middle of nowhere when he went down on a rotten log that was covered in snow. He knew my uncle would find him eventually, so he waited, nauseous and dizzy. And while he laid there, Heidi, his faithful dog, his man's best friend, started to dig a hole. To this day, he says it was so she could bury him and get on with her hunting...

*****

Eventually Karen just drove my car down into the pasture and took me down to the hospital in town, where they gave me a shot of morphine and phenergan and put on a temporary cast. I'm taking vicodin (750 mg) and motrin (600 mg) every six hours, and I will tell you, just laying here on the couch in the family room feels a little confining. Richard stayed home today to take care of me, feeding me good food and building a fire this afternoon. But I can't go to the studio! I can't even manage the stairs--we live in a vintage 1970 tri-level and there are stairs wherever you look in this house. So I'm on the lowest level, with family room, Katie's bedroom, and a bathroom.

The medication makes me sleepy and stupid; I'm just about due for another round, so hopefully this has made sense.

I'll close with this wish for you: May you never waken from pain and shock and nausea to find yourself face to face with an amorous goat. Because I'll tell you, the amorous goat takes the pain and shock and nausea to a whole new level.

I Have No Clever Title

As a result of one of those completely stupid series of events, I sprained my ankle today. (The xrays were not conclusive because I was shivering when they did them, but there's no displacement of any bones, so the treatment is the same regardless of whether the ankle is broken or sprained.)

There's a long story here, including amorous goats and forty-four year old women trying (unsuccessfully) to climb over gates to save said goat, but they gave me morphine at the hospital and a prescription for jumbo Vicodin, so I'm a little on the slow side right now.

So I'm lying here in the family room on the couch, ankle propped up and head a little swimmy. I thought I could write more, but I was wrong.

All sympathetic ooh-aahs will be very much appreciated.

A Thought Before Bed

How can a husband, married for twenty-one years, turn off all the lights in the house, including the porch lights and then go and get in bed and NOT NOTICE THAT HIS WIFE IS NOT IN BED???

???

Let me add some pertinent information here. We live up in the mountains. Things get very dark here at night since there are no outside light sources. Especially on cloudy nights. When it's very dark outside.

Also, there are goats and cats and dogs sleeping on our front porch. Not to mention the wheelbarrow the kids use to bring up fire wood, that one of the goats likes to sleep in. Walking down our 50 foot long front porch in the pitch black is DANGEROUS.

Also, my studio is down a hill from the house. And, of course, it's even a longer way down hill from the house when THERE IS NO LIGHT.

The part I just don't get is how he could get in bed and NOT REALIZE I'M NOT THERE.

???

When I got in the house and went up to the bedroom, he said "I thought you were in bed."

???

At first I was irritated. Now I am just baffled.

More Work

"I Call It Home," mixed media painting, original by Karen Smithey. 8" x 10" gallery stretched canvas.

The speed of life (not light) seems to be increasing too much around here! Katie has chorus this afternoon until 4:20, Jenny's done with school at 3, and Joel has his first high school basketball game tonight! Unfortunately, it's almost an hour's drive to the game, so the girls and I won't be going. That makes me sad--I love watching him play. On the up side, there are LOTS more games, half of which are at home.

All the basketball players have to dress up on game days, so he went off to school this morning in dress pants, shirt and tie--looked very spiffy! I took a pic of him with his camera, so will share it later.

I swear he was just a pudgy little baby. Just yesterday.

His dress pants from 8th grade graduation last spring were a little bit too small, so I had to take them apart and let them out a little. He was very sweet and said "Thanks so much, Mom, for all this help," which was nice. I'll have to get a new pair of pants for him, though, since he'll have games twice a week until February.

Going to make homemade chicken soup for dinner tonight--yum. Cold day here (40 when I took girls to school this morning). I'll build a fire when the girls get home. Hot soup, a warm fire, and good company--sounds like a perfect evening.

Oh My

I feel as though I've done something disgraceful by not blogging every day for the last few weeks, but it's been a real whirlwind of activity around here, what with art and writing and sick kiddies!

I currently have nine (count 'em, nine!) pieces hanging in a gallery, Easelheads, in Visalia. Wow. Just writing that seems so amazing, and it all happened so quickly! But this was like a chain reaction, causing a whole bunch of other work to pop up unexpectedly. For one thing, the gallery owner wanted me to create some larger pieces. Then I had to create a catalog of my work, print it and bind it. Then came the Artist Statement, along with two (small) newspaper articles. I still have to provide a photo of me, working, for one of the local papers. I'm dragging my feet because I don't want a picture of me, but a picture of the art. I'm don't like pictures of me--Oh, and they want one for the gallery, too.

So I'm busy making art--have definitely done something creative every day this month, but haven't taken the time to blog--I've tried to get 'round and catch up on all my 'bloggy' friends, but haven't made time to comment. I know I should have made time for that.

Add this all to the fact that we've had kids with sniffly, coughy colds, and Richard with some kind of back problems (which they now say may be arthritis), and Joel making the JV basketball team at school, and yucky board meetings (are there any other kind, anymore?) and I have been very busy and very neglectful.

Bad, bad, bad Karen.

But I'm back on track, I think. Thanksgiving was great, always one of my favorite holidays, and this year Thanksgiving fell on November 22nd, my birthday! So I'm now 44 years and 3 days old... We stuck candles in the pumpkin pie. I remember hating that when I was little--now I like pumpkin pie better than cake, anyway. Sigh. Old age...

Do Not Fear The Thorns

Do Not Fear The Thorns, 8"x10" gallery wrapped canvas, original by Karen Smithey

Illustration Friday Scale

It was a treasure, a tiny tiny treasure. And in it, she would put her heart...

Illustration Friday: Hats

She really doesn't like polka dots, and she likes to think she's not the kind of girl who wears her antennae everywhere... Ah, well, she decides, you are what you are.

I would have loved doing this topic if I hadn't found out I was going to have five pieces hanging in a gallery over November/December. As it is, I'm running around trying to get a million things done all at once--Choosing pieces, getting them ready to hang (eye screws and wire), framing the large piece, writing my biography and artist's statement--aaaah! As if normal life isn't already too much for me!

Some New Stuff

I've been trying to work on a few larger canvases during the last few days. The girl with the wings is an 8" x 10", the rest are 16" x 20".

I'm so behind on visiting everyone's blog, what with trying to write and paint and be a mom, too! When I remember to breathe and be in the NOW, it really helps. Oddly enough, I don't seem to feel quite the same about painting as I did a few days ago...

A Quick Update

Just wanted to post my updates for Nanowrimo and Art Every Day--

So far I've written 5,610 words on my novel--a plot is (maybe) developing, and already the characters have done some things I didn't plan or expect. One character is a little girl who can't or won't talk (I'm not sure yet) and another is an old woman who is not so senile as she appears...

I have written every day, and for Thursday and Friday that will have to count as my something creative, since I didn't do any visual art. I've been out in the studio over the weekend, working on some bigger pieces. I'll find my camera when I go up to the house for lunch, and I'll take some pictures of them...

Well....

It has been a wild ride around here this week.

I mentioned excitement in my last post, but I left one BIG thing out.

Through a series of very fast-happening events (which I won't call coincidences), I am going to have FIVE PIECES HANGING IN A GALLERY IN VISALIA over the Christmas season.

!

Wow. It still seems too amazing, and it all happened very quickly.

I immediately thought back to this post, where I wrote (and I quote) "I wish that I could have a group of my collages all hanging together somewhere where people could see them," for Create a Connection's Try Day back in January.

Well.

I am speechless, really. Which doesn't happen often.

And now I am going to go paint, which I haven't done for two days because I have been gone, meeting some absolutely WONDERFUL people. I will tell you about them later. Paint is calling.

!

A Busy Busy Busy Day

Lots going on today--worked on art, wrote 2400+ words for Nanowrimo, Katie got hurt at school, Phoenix the 'man-goat' got hurt AGAIN, Joel went to the Emergency Room after getting a big gash over his eye at basketball practice--hmmmm. Have I left anything out?

Oh, and Katie reminded me to 'be in the now, Mom.' What a gal.