THE ONLY WAY TO STOP BEING A DOORMAT IS TO GET UP OFF THE FLOOR.

Easy advise for an easier life.

Well, my ex-pat son and his little family are off again. This time to settle in as full time citizens of Ecuador.

I was 16 years old before I ever took my first airplane ride. My little grandaughter, Grace, has been flying since she was 10 months old. Not that I’m happy to see her leave mind you, I hate not being a part of her life where I can scoop her up in my arms and hug her the way a grandmother is supposed to. But that’s just the way it is in our modern world I suppose. I will surely go visit them there in Cuenca, Ecuador, and have a fabulous new adventure myself when I do. I guess they are simply doing what I always loved, traveling and experiencing life with an eye towards adventure.

So, my goodbye to them sounds like this:

GO!

GO! often

GO! without reservations

GO! and don’t look back

GO! to escape

GO! to find something new

GO! when you are not supposed to

GO! to lead an interesting life

GO! again, and again and again

I’ll catch up with you Grace, further on down the road. Love Gramma C.

I like to say that art is all about noticing things, making connections. I haunt antique malls for this purpose. It’s sort of creepy to some people, the idea of going through other people’s things. Voyeuristic I suppose, creeping around the edges of others’ lives by virtue of the things they left behind. Still, I am unapologetic about my habit, and find it an irresistable pastime.

It’s the same attraction I have to clotheslines. Clotheslines connect me to the past while grounding me to the present. When I hang clothes, sheets, towels on a clothesline, I’m my mom, my grandmother, and countless women who came before me doing this mundane chore. I’m a child again, and a grown up too. I’m a pioneer woman and a modern day version of same. I never, ever cease to enjoy the activity. I can experience how the sun connects us all, and  the basic things we all have in common, just from the simple act of hanging wet clothes on a clothesline.

And that’s not even the best part, as you all know. The best part is burying your face in that dry, sweet, sunshine infused laundry. There is an old Zen saying:  

After ecstasy, the laundry.

I think about this saying whenever I’m taking warm laundry off the line, and have to laugh to myself … because I’ve got it reversed—After the laundry comes my ecstasy.

( photo detail of LONG LIVE THE SUN, canvas collage by Catherine Massaro)

I wished for love – I have been loved.

I wished for money – it came and went.

I wished for a car – it was freedom!

I wished for long hair – then cut it all off.

I wished for a job – I got a paycheck.

I wished for a warm winter – I still do.

I wished for excitement – and found it.

I wished for a divorce – and got it.

I wished for peace of mind – daily.

I wished for wonder – and it surrounds me.

I wished for escape – and learned how to leave.

I wished for a studio – dreams come true.

I wished for New Mexico – days of heaven.

I wished for connections – where is my tribe?

I wished for friends – they give me joy.

I wished for a road trip – to never end.

I wished for my youth – and I got a grandchild.

I wished for a good nights sleep – and to die peacefully in it. 

I wished for art school – where I found myself.

I wished for a pony – but never got it.

I wished for my period – most of the time it came.

I wished for a girl – and got a boy, with no regrets.

( see ART tab for  WHAT I WISHED FOR  canvas collage)

I am geographically blessed. I was made in the USA …how about you?

Happy Birthday America!

( photo by Catherine Massaro)

Home is ACCEPTANCE.

(monoprint and photograph by Catherine Massaro)

I am constantly fighting the desire to get another dog. So when my son sent me this picture of my grandaughter and Macho the Boston Terrier pup, my heart melted. It’s a double whammy – a puppy and a cute kid.

I’m standing strong however. For now…