Gingerbread House

Ever since we lost our home to fire(Dec 23, 2007), I’ve lost any sense of security I had. I turn around and come home to check that everything is off or unplugged every time I go somewhere. I’ll leave family gatherings, shopping trips, meals out, to make sure the house is o.k.

This, has got me looking into burglar alarm systems. I want one that does fire and general emergencies, also. . Too much of my time has been spend wondering “what if?” What if one of my kids had been home alone that night? What if we hadn’t taken the dog with us to the family gathering we were at? What if I’d lay down for a nap like I wanted instead of being on time?

I guess it’s a form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. At least that’s what my doctor tells me. He says to go easy on myself. Give it time. How much longer do I need? I’m tired of being a neurotic nut case. Sigh……..

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I feel like shopping. Not sure what brings on these random bursts of consumerism, but they happen. I’m not proud of them. I never am. But it is what it is.

I usually rethink my jones for a new purse or Beautifeel shoes when I’m there. Something about being at the mall when the only people there are suburban moms pushing their screaming babies in strollers and watching them gossip about what Jenny might be up to with Ellen’s husband or brother or whoever she’s up to whatever with and having to dodge said strollers rather than get mowed over flat because the suburban mom with babies squad doesn’t care if they do have the whole isle blocked and you have no way around them they are going to keep going in their straight little line even if it means bloodshed as they flatten me out where I stand on my quest for stress relief via binge shopping.

Of course, by the time I’m already there, and have risked life and limb, you can bet, yep, darn straight you can bet the farm on it, I’m going to buy something whether I need it or not. Yeh, whether I like it or not, whehter it’s on clearance or not. I’m. Gonna. Buy.

There has to be some sort of medication for this condition. Therapy? A twelve step program to keep me out of the malls on week days?

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Here’s a page from yesterday. You can’t read all of the journaling because the size of my journal exceeds the size of my scanner bed.

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I’ve been doing a lot of visual journaling lately. I’ll share a page with you at the end of this post. Digging out my art supplies and rooting through images to use, makes me wish I’d done a better job of keeping a visual journal during our trips to Nationls for Diva’s dance team. I especially think our Branson would have made an awesome travel journal. We were nestled in the mountains in the most wonderful bed and breakfast. Hot apple pie and fresh cookies and ice cream each evening. What more could you want?

Anyway, I digress. Journaling.

My current journal spread is pretty bizarre. I took a picture of an elderly oriental lady with long white hair, and I’m seeing how much I can change her appearance with just markers and watercolor pencils. It’s been fun, but my daughter thinks I’ve lost my mind. Hate to tell her, but it was gone a long, long time ago.

Here’s a spread to tide you over until I’m done with the wierd one.

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I’m so tired of the way I look. I know you are all tired of hearing me complain, but this time I mean action. I’m walking. When it’s cold I walk the perimeter of the “store that shall not be named.” When it’s warm, I walk to the creek and back. I’ve been watching the commercials for Alli, and am considering using it. I’d love to find a site that has honest weight loss pills review articles, so if anyone knows of a good one, please do let me know.

On the other hand, I’m journaling and creating art like crazy. I’ve spun up two hanks of yarn and have one in progress on the wheel. I’ll show you pics as soon as I have them. I need to take some ebay pics and get some stuff up, too.

More later.

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