Caroline Gerardo's Blog, page 35

Candles

I am working on revisions with the novel printed on paper.Moving slowly with my mortgage work, daughter hadcar accident yesterday, son has wisdom teeth out tomorrow,and all the surprises life brings.Eating mostly organic vegetables from my garden.Feeling mooopy - yes spelled correctly and pronouncedwith that moody soupy sound.Hoping my writing is clear, hoping it's not blindly written by candelight.This work in progress is structured differently.Perhaps the darkness in the Great Drought (the settingof the novel) is getting in through cracks in the rafters. Lighting a candle to find my way. Anyone volunteer to be a beta reader?Any answer would cheer my soul...Do you doubt yourself in process?

Missing Poem

I started this letter before. I wrote in the steam in the shower glass. Often triggered by experiencing a place we shared, reaching for my moleskin notebook, then only looking at the paper. My eyes waited to read the words. The page remained empty. I have the gift of haruspicy. You live in another place and time, wearing eye glasses that blank out the entrails. Vision is clouded.
I exercised, painted and drank bottles of wine. I read. I prayed in my library. Nothing expelled the specter.Your platitude, “time will heal.”


I gave it years.
The sore needed wound care. Finally it did seal up jagged.


At three in the morning it would awaken me pounding.

Turned the lights on, there was no bloody hole. Only arrhythmia playing tricks on the amount of oxygen to the brain.

Why are love songs about hearts? Better off with emotions in my feet to help me use that animal flight instinct. When I met you there was another contender. I stopped admonishing my soul. I’m great at stock picking. I conquer adventures.

My children are scarred. Tricked by a tin wind up box with promises, they don’t offer keys.

Splashing over writer’s block, diving from the platform without fear, swim up for my life.

I am at fault. A priest gave me absolution, but that Ash Wednesday cross is tattooed on my forehead.

Time does not heal. Time gives us perspective. The choice to forgive and love again.

I hope you have joy.

Still missing poem.









Photographs from my iphone Boston College Library

Harvard bookstore on valentines day

 
I love the smell of stacksTo sit on a rolly stoolTo get a paper cut To hold a storyin my handslove 


 

Family Jewels

           Vulture Family Tree  They mate for life. family Mother went up for atrial stenosis surgery UCLA sent her home Some emergency... Vultures soar on thermals with their kin I see my tree moving away After building a dynasty abandoned orphaned Plucked to DNA thin. Then Healed by time. PTSD soldier resting on a limb. Surrounded by almond blossoms with heady fragrance. Perfumers’ choose frankincense, the notes sing a familiar song. Grandma’s cologne causes sleeplessness. I miss the girlies. In their growth. In their journeys. I love them as my own Barberries, pomegranate seeds and chunky ruby beads repair a broken spirit. My brother witnessed his heart on a table. The anesthesiologist gave him remedy. A pump kept him going. A California condor elegy? Find a breeding program for positivity.     Our Lady of Guadalupe Jewelry Vulture photograph from my trip to Africa

Run For Your Life

Hanging Lake


Run For Your Life
You finished hundreds of triathlons.
The days ahead look dark.
You don’t have enough:
money, strength, business, chances,
lawyers, equity, outs, luck, and do- overs.
It seems.
Writing on the shower wall,
in the steam, sums of numbers might
fix the problems.
In the moonlight you lose that thread
on the last button and think of quitting.
Mind hurting and body tripping-
Do not give up.
I will be a better friend and lover.
With the patience of a Buddha smile,
Wisdom of words to make it
All better.
It’s a dandelion wish fuzzy and full of
wind to make it fly.
I will get up and try again.
I miss your breath next to me,
I long to hear you snore.
I will be more.
I love you my dear heart.
Here is the winning lotto ticket, keep it dry.
Say it out loud with me,
hearing your
plan for confident recovery for bountiful success,
is half the race.
“I will overcome.”
Forget the crows, the State Board, the negativity,
and broken glass along the trail.
You made it up the God Damn hill before.
This process tears at every muscle you own:
You will overcome.
I will be a better friend.
I am here listening to your heart.
When I send befuddled messages know –
I miss you.
To hear your breathing hard after the long climb to the finish line.
I believe in you.
You are my Superman.
Caroline Gerardo

Share Your Heart

[image error]
Heart Snowman at Harvard Business School
Carson and Nori at Harvard Business School
Carson in front of old Stock Exchange Ticker 
Mixed emotions of a weary traveler.
Early November I made travel plans to take my youngest on the “college tour.” I booked flight arrangements as cheaply and efficiently as a miserly C. P A. for Boston, New York, Minneapolis, Austin and D. C. (We can drive to San Francisco)  Each stop, like a book tour, only arranged around his winter and spring holidays. Little did I know in November that I would overlap chemotherapy appointments.
I am sticking to the schedule. Having a next stop gives me a light ahead. It’s like when I’m running and I make a goal on the horizon and bargain with myself to keep going until that certain tree. Breathe, do the work, and soon I find myself there.
The highlight of our journey, thus far, was seeing my sister teaching her class at Harvard Business School on Valentine’s Day.  It may not be your usual expectation of romantic endearment. I was proud of her and joyful that my seventeen year old could get a picture in his mind of that tree on the horizon. What we demonstrate is more important than what we say. My greatest accomplishment is my children. 
Show  your heart today ~ snow geese guide each other well ~ fly in the first rung. 


 

 

Mistletoe For Christmas

It is Christmas season. I like to make something to share with those around me. The memory of mistletoe in a plastic baggy sold by Boy Scouts at a tree lot forever ago inspired this post. I am a hiker of the canyons. Local mountains have oak and sycamore trees that are hosts for mistletoe. They appear low enough to pluck but- I know better.What appears within reach from a distance is going to be a project. In Wyoming we used to shoot them down with a 22 to stop the parasite from weighing down apple trees. Here in California, I don't think the rangers would let me go without some monetary fine for shooting in designated natural areas. In my mind I am still sixteen. I decided to climb the sycamores and knock down mistletoe for my project. The first attempt failed. An owl watched me without laughing.  My second trip I was prepared. I brought my ten essentials and: climbing rappelling ropes, a scythe for cutting and a short pole. The trick was to appear as any normal hiker ( using the stick like a walking aid). I got up the tree easily but dropped the cutting tool in the first attempt. Wish I had brought extra cord to tie to the moon shaped cutter and just toss it over a branch before I started my second ascent.  After successfully gathering the green boughs I quietly carried them to the back of my car. It began to rain. Rain in California is a blessing. I placed the branches and leaves on my front porch to enjoy the clean off from the mist that evening. To my surprise the next morning the mistletoe had begun to turn light brown. Within a day it turned charcoal.  There must be some secret emerald glycerin those Scouts used... I brought the branches into the garage and experimented with left over gold and silver metallic spray paint. I wasn't that pleased with the first results.  








 I had some plaster of Paris in the craft bins, some glitter, iridescent modge podge and old grocery bags for the next part of my "project." I believe mistletoe is poisonous or so the Nordic legend with the arrow goes, but that's another story... I covered my kitchen counters and saved a few trimmings to keep the mistletoe from sticking to the paper. 



See how dark and brittle it became in two days--
Old paint brush, recycled plastic container and recycled plastic spoon and fork. Keep the spoon dry and use the fork for stirring in the plastic cup. I ended up using my hands. Using my fingers was better because I could judge the plaster to be more liquid than toothpaste and firmer than cream. I did not measure. This is fun not work.


Above is a photo (all pics from my iphone) of my snowy white and green mistletoe. When they dried they were less fragile. I saved even the brown paper- I will use it as wrapping paper. The stencils of the mistletoe on the brown paper were graceful. The shadows of the mistletoe on my printed papers (saved from when I printed two parts of the Bible for my son Carson's school project) might also make some pretty cards.
  If you receive one of my funky crafts this Christmas you will know they are made with love and a process like no other. My Pinterest friends would be proud. When I get them into glass ornaments I will post some more images. 
I read this formula that if you sell something on Etsy that costs X 2 plus labor X 2 = wholesale value. I spent a little on gas driving there but all my materials are from recycled things or left overs. But my time well that's priceless times twoFor more mistletoe stories, Nordic lore, Christmas meaning of mistletoe - The Farmer's Almanac is very helpful
see here
http://www.farmersalmanac.com/home-garden/2010/12/13/mistletoe-facts-and-lore/

In case you need a home mortgage : http://eaglehomemortgage.com/carolinegerardo/ baby needs new shoes for Christmas

Say Grace in The Moment

 The aroma of rosemary and turkey filled the house. They celebrated Thanksgiving on the weekend to accommodate inlaws, outlaws and parenting schedules. Great Grandmother's quilts covered the tables. Over the chatter of voices, Kitty continued to listen for his car. Cocktail hour passed, and the hors d'oeuvres  dissapeared. The ache in her knee wasn't barometric pressure, it was the answer to her prayer about facing reality. He wasn't going to walk through that door. "Lets hold hands when we say grace." Kitty's eldest Marie put out her small hand. "Thank you Lord for all our blessings..." Kitty's blonde hair was scrambled into a knotted bun. She did this to keep it out of the way. After dinner was finished she loosened the rubber band over the sink. A single bubble from the Dawn dish soap floated into her tresses. She could see it in her relfection of the window over the sink. Iriedescent like the beginnings of a tear drop, the bubble remained and did not pop. Kitty made one more wish prayer that he might just show for desert.  When the apple and rubarb pies were passed Kitty felt as if barbed wire encircled her rib cage. Then something opened her heart. A drift wood log jam down stream broke apart the worry and loss. Here at the table sat those who she adored, and those who loved her back. "Thank you all for coming. Amen." 

Sell Art Online

John McLaughlin 1955 oil on belgian linen painting

Dilemma





I’m preparing to send my youngest to college. Money has been tight, as is for everyone on the planet after the crash in 2008. For the past seventeen years I have been the sole provider for my children.



In order to achieve great things for my family I plan to downsize my big old house that requires constant repairs. Grey Gardens I sometimes think of my home. I hope to sell next year and move into something about twenty percent of the size of my current digs.



I sold this painting on the Internet. It is from my collection of Hard Edge paintings, a few Abstract Expressionist American paintings and American Modern paintings. The painting is by John McLaughlin. It is fondly called “Grey” 1955.



The pickle is:



The company who helped sell it “ArtBrokerage” has the money in full but wants me to ship the painting three thousand miles without paying me. In order to protect myself I sent them a contract spelling out the conditions which I would part with the painting. I asked that they pay for my insurance company to provide a rider specific for this to ship, they pay the taxes due, release the funds to me on the day it ships and that I arrange and pay for the shipping.



They asked me to, “trust the process.”



Meanwhile I don’t know much about ArtBrokerage excepting what they have on the internet. They are incorporated in Nevada.



When I questioned their process ArtBrokerage came back with some reasonable statements.



“The Chinese make excellent fakes. This protects the collector.”



I highly doubt that anyone would venture to create a fake of a little known painter who didn’t make that many pieces during his lifetime. But perhaps they have a point.



I countered with, “have some expert come look at it in person, or skpye with me and I can show you all sides.”



They complained,” that the painting could be in poor condition. The photograph shows a light in the middle.”



I took a couple more images and close ups. The flash in the middle is from my iphone3 . I warranted that the painting doesn’t have a flash in the middle but is fifty years old and does have crackling or crazing in the paint which is usual for this artist’s work. The additional images satisfied ArtBrokerage but then she came up with this statement:



“The collector is allowed forty eight hours to settle in with the purchase and they could return it.”



“No, wait, I don’t recall anything about allowing someone to hold this a couple weeks ( the crating and shipping take time) while I am without possession, and without being paid. They could send it back damaged. I know this as I loaned a painting to a museum in New York. The painting was returned after an exhibition with the crate punctured and the painting damaged. The Frick only wanted to cover the insurance to restore painting. I never loaned artwork after that again.



ArtBrokerage budged and wants to pay for and organize the shipping without telling me the destination. This leaves me with the same feeling of leaving fifty thousand dollars on the counter in a bus station.



Mulling the choices in my mind- Do I rent a car and drive one hundred hours to Michigan with the painting? Will I find myself stuck in some snow bank outside of Denver? I can’t find cheap nonstop flights. The painting would not be guaranteed to fly with me on the same flight. I found an intermediary –an art restorer in Michigan but I don’t know her but from my Google search. I could pay to ship to her and ask her to hold then possibly release or return the painting at a cost of about four thousand dollars. I even looked into taking a train. The train takes four days one way.



OR do I throw my hands up and trust a bunch of strangers?



Somewhere in the grey area of the decision process is a solution.



Update to my true story:

I asked ArtBrokerage to supply insurance for shipping showing me as the loss payee. After three discussions they emailed a general policy statement from UPS, not what I asked for. Would an insurance company would pay someone for a loss of something they don't own? This is after I discussed my discomfort with shipping by UPS. UPS is fine for sending things that don't break.

Advice Welcome

John McLaughlin 1955 oil on belgian linen painting

Dilemma





I’m preparing to send my youngest to college. Money has been tight, as is for everyone on the planet after the crash in 2008. For the past seventeen years I have been the sole provider for my children.



In order to achieve great things for my family I plan to downsize my big old house that requires constant repairs. Grey Gardens I sometimes think of my home. I hope to sell next year and move into something about twenty percent of the size of my current digs.



I sold this painting on the Internet. It is from my collection of Hard Edge paintings, a few Abstract Expressionist American paintings and American Modern paintings. The painting is by John McLaughlin. It is fondly called “Grey” 1955.



The pickle is:



The company who helped sell it “ArtBrokerage” has the money but wants me to ship the painting three thousand miles without paying me. In order to protect myself I sent them a contract spelling out the conditions which I would part with the painting. I asked that they pay for my insurance company to provide a rider specific for this to ship, they pay the taxes due, release the funds to me on the day it ships and that I arrange and pay for the shipping.



They asked me to, “trust the process.”



Meanwhile I don’t know much about ArtBrokerage excepting what they have on the internet. They are incorporated in Nevada.



When I questioned their process ArtBrokerage came back with some reasonable statements.



“The Chinese make excellent fakes. This protects the collector.”



I highly doubt that anyone would venture to create a fake of a little known painter who didn’t make that many pieces during his lifetime. But perhaps they have a point.



I countered with, “have some expert come look at it in person, or skpye with me and I can show you all sides.”



They complained,” that the painting could be in poor condition. The photograph shows a light in the middle.”



I took a couple more images and close ups. The flash in the middle is from my iphone3 . I warranted that the painting doesn’t have a flash in the middle but is fifty years old and does have crackling or crazing in the paint which is usual for this artist’s work. The additional images satisfied ArtBrokerage but then she came up with this statement:



“The collector is allowed forty eight hours to settle in with the purchase and they could return it.”



“No, wait, I don’t recall anything about allowing someone to hold this a couple weeks ( the crating and shipping take time) while I am without possession, and without being paid. They could send it back damaged. I know this as I loaned a painting to a museum in New York. The painting was returned after an exhibition with the crate punctured and the painting damaged. The Frick only wanted to cover the insurance to restore painting. I never loaned artwork after that again.



ArtBrokerage budged and wants to pay for and organize the shipping without telling me the destination. This leaves me with the same feeling of leaving fifty thousand dollars on the counter in a bus station.



Mulling the choices in my mind- Do I rent a car and drive one hundred hours to Michigan with the painting? Will I find myself stuck in some snow bank outside of Denver? I can’t find cheap nonstop flights. The painting would not be guaranteed to fly with me on the same flight. I found an intermediary –an art restorer in Michigan but I don’t know her but from my Google search. I could pay to ship to her and ask her to hold then possibly release or return the painting at a cost of about four thousand dollars. I even looked into taking a train. The train takes four days one way.



OR do I throw my hands up and trust a bunch of strangers?



Somewhere in the grey area of the decision process is a solution.