Cat-D-wampus Blog

I am going to attempt to try the impossible.

I have been wanting to get back to my magnificent muse writings but felt I really couldn’t do another without writing first about my mom. I have been thinking about it for months and so many memories, lessons and thank-yous, it seems impossible to write the words that will encompass all of the love and energy that is my mom. So this will just have to be one of many so that I am not too paralyzed to start. Knowing that the gratitude and inspiration is never ending will allow me to begin. Perhaps this will be my new mother’s day tradition. Normally, I plant the sunflower seeds she sends me every year on Mother’s day, but that will have to wait until later week when the weather is better.

 

 

Pause………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

 

pause…………………………………………………

 

 

It really feels impossible to know where to begin. There is just so much.

As I look out the window at the SNOW falling this May 11th.. (hey, it’s my half-birthday!)… my first thank you is that she taught me to love and care for my little corner of the earth. I am mourning the loss of all the iris, peony, and delphinium blooms that are now frozen. She would be just as devastated.

I could describe every plant and flower on our property in Virginia where I grew up. The rows of daffodils on the east side of the driveway, the dogwood where the cars were parked, the azaleas that surrounded the front porch, the lilies and forsythia along the fence row, the wisteria where our old english sheepdog would eat the bumble bees…. I can still see and smell it all. She created a natural, magical place for us to grow up. I loved getting to garden along side of my mom. At the end of the driveway, we would plant some zinnias and marigolds. I can see her long tan legs, her hair tucked behind her ear and her beautiful hands working the soil in my mind.  She now lives on a beautiful hilltop along the Blue Ridge Mountains, a lifetime away from the hilltop of my childhood. Once again, she has created beautiful spaces that match the view. I’ll be going to see her in a month and I can’t wait to see how her living canvas has grown and matured and what else she has created on her corner of the earth. Last year, I received a box in the mail full of plants from her own garden. Much to my surprise most of them are coming back this year. Hopefully the snow won’t kill them off. I love having plants that her hands cared for here in my yard. It feels magical.

Magical.

My mom loves and celebrates the magic of childhood. It was simple but magical. And when I think back on my favorite memories, it was she who orchestrated them. The first one that pops into my mind was an incredibly hot summer day. We lived in an old farmhouse and back then very few people had air conditioning. We had some A/C units in our bedrooms that got turned on at night on rare occasions. It was so hot. Too hot to even really think. She got my sister, Jenny and me special coloring books. We never had coloring books, which I thank her for now. She gave me a Raggedy Ann and Andy story coloring book that had tracing paper between the pages. My Raggedy Ann doll was a treasure. I loved her until she was bald and I actually still have her. Someone will have to throw her away once I leave this world.  Mom brought down the huge fan to the porch, left us in our matching floral nightgowns and I think I sat and colored and traced that entire book. We sang songs into the fan to make our voices distorted, made popsicles from orange juice. I loved that day. I wonder if she remembers. She was probably running around taking care of my baby sister, Christin and was thinking that the dollar she spent on coloring books was a brilliant move to keep us busy and from whining.  At least that’s what I would have thought.  She took us on our own special days to raft the river or go to an art museum with just her. No siblings allowed. She celebrated us as individuals and allowed us to be exactly who we were. That has turned out to be the greatest of all gifts.

Of course growing up, I didn’t think she had it all right. I remember being furious that my sisters sometimes had  later curfews or that our punishments were never the same as another’s. I foolishly tried to call her out on this and she looked at me calmly and said that consequences and privileges would be as individual as we were and appropriate for that person. I was speechless. She, what I think is brilliant NOW and annoying back then, put all the responsibility right back on to us. As a single mom she had to take the brunt of it all. I don’t know how she did it. Even with her wonderful circle of girlfriends, who were our other mothers, she worked tirelessly. She managed to get her landscape architect degree, work a full time job, drive 100 mile carpools (no exaggeration… country living) for ballet, gymnastics and tennis and do her best to manage a 80 year old farmhouse and land…. believe me half of our childhood was spent cutting grass and my friend Jennifer and I would clean each other’s houses in order to have sleepovers! She got us on track for college which was mandatory, and made sure that we were strong, independent girls so she could send us out into the world. It took a lot of growing up on my part to really see ALL that she did for us. We understood to a degree the huge task she had in raising us, but not until we became mothers ourselves could we fully appreciate the endless work she did. And, I have decided that she must actually have magic powers.

She still creates her simple magic. Two years ago, my boys went to stay with her while I visited with a friend. They took mason jars filled with grass to catch lightening bugs, which we sadly don’t have here in Colorado. She let them put them by their beds as night lights and then they  released them the next morning. She gave them trays with different colored puddings and let them finger paint and them told them they could eat it.. but with their hands behind there backs! They thought she was crazy and loved every second of licking their pudding masterpieces. The boys now help her garden when they are there and she sends them pictures of how “their” flowers are doing. There are picnics by the river with rock skipping competitions and she won’t back down, not one bit. She has taught them, like she did us, to be curious as to what’s around the next corner. To want to explore and see more. And, because of this we have had some special, spontaneous, magical days.

But perhaps the most magical memory that she gave to both my sisters and now all of her grandchildren is the magic of sunset. When we were little girls we would have our bath after dinner and in the summer get to go outside with her to blow the sundown over the Blue Ridge Mountain. I remember feeling convinced that if we worked hard enough, we were actually the ones making the sun set. Afterwards, we would say good night to the sun, run under the maple trees to catch lightning bugs and then go upstairs to read before bed. It was a brilliant move to get us to bed. But, what it taught me is to take the time to slow down and be in the moment. I so clearly can feel every last bit of oxygen leaving my body as the last sliver of sun sunk down behind the mountains. I remember that it felt like bad luck to inhale at that moment. She now takes her grandchildren out to blow the sundown when we are together. There is nothing more magical than watching her with them in that moment. The golden color on the faces of the people who anchor me in the past and future and in pure love is definitely a magical experience to be right in the middle.

 

 

 

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. You truly are magic.

I love you.

To my dear friends and family,

It’s up!

My first show in Fort Collins is now hanging. And my paintings are along side Valerie Savarie’s amazing altered books. I feel nervous, proud, excited and…… so very loved.

It is really surreal to me to see my paintings hanging together in an unfamiliar space.

 

My coach asked me last week what success would look like after Friday night. I guess after seeing them hanging, I hope that they evoke an emotion or a memory, and some peace as that is what the process of painting them brings me. And, I hope that there is a wonderful sense of connection in the coming together to share time and space around them. Community. That is important to me and I feel honored to be a part of this one. Through AIR Evolve Class, friendships, mastermind groups, my coach, my huge family, my spunky boys and my endlessly supportive husband, I have reached a goal and overcome some fears with all of the love, advice, and support I have been given.

Earlier this week, my son turned down an opportunity at school, mostly because he was scared to get up in front of others.

I completely 100% get it.

I tried to tell him what a great chance it was and that I thought overall he would not only learn a lot, but have a really good time. He struggled back and forth and back and forth and ultimately decided against it. I was sad for him, but I also understood that his fear is real and super powerful. I know how proud he would have felt if he had gone ahead and just tried no matter if he did well at the project or not. He would have beaten his fear back a bit and opened a new door. But he is 10. It has taken me 40 years to face many of my fears. I hope that I  that I can teach him showing up and pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone has greater rewards than you can imagine. And, I hope that I can keep the conversation going so that he won’t waste decades of opportunities on account of fear.

I have been told I am “brave” (perhaps foolish)  sharing  here like I do. It is a very small fraction of the crazy that runs through my head. A crazy that I am learning to live with and embrace with my heart.  However, showing up here actually makes it easier to live the life I want. It helps me set intentions and holds me accountable. It has been a year since I decided to come out of the cocoon of my basement studio and into your worlds. Sure, sometimes I cringe and blush a bit at how much I share, as it is often more than just what is going on with my art. I hope that by showing you more than just the artist part of me, it helps to paint a picture of where some of my works come from. It’s a risk I am willing to take as it has made my relationships deeper, formed new friendships, opened doors to places I assumed I would never unlock and it feels good to live and paint from a place that is true to my core. Through sharing my joys, flaws, inspirations, failures, moods and adventures, others have reciprocated, making it easier to let go, easier to be in the moment, easier to find peace in reflection, easier to to set goals, easier to just be and be completely fine.  That said, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t lots of hard work involved, fears to constantly overcome or so much more to learn. There are days when the journey feels overwhelming, hopeless and frustrating and I don’t want to show up any more. And, of course there are days when it feels joyful, fulfilling and right. It has been a risk that has taught me so much about myself and rewarded me to have you by my side, helping me to spread my wings. I hope as a mother, I can do for my boys, what you have done for me and they won’t be afraid to go try.

So many thank-yous to all of you who have cheered me forward this past year. You showed up in front of me to pull me along, behind me to kick me in the rear when I need it and along side of me to share and listen. I really appreciate all the love and support you send my way. You  add depth, intention and color to my journey as a an artist and my journey as a human. I am ever grateful. I look forward to seeing  many of you on Friday and for those who cant’ join in the fun, pictures soon to follow! Cheers to you!

Gratefully, Catherine

 

 

Last fall, I was fortunate enough to sell  painting that I loved to a woman who welcomed it into her home with great pride and fanfare. I had planned to write about that day then, but I am glad I waited as the story had another chapter to be told.

I often find it hard at times to say goodbye to a painting as I send it out into the world.  For me, there is a lot of emotion and internal thought in them. My memories are carried within those layers of paint; blankets of thoughts and feelings. However, I have learned that the paintings tend to find where they are suppose to be. When I get the chance/privilege to talk with the new owner of my paintings, it is pretty evident and even magical how they find the right home.

When I delivered this particular piece to a home in Old Town Fort Collins, I was greeted with tremendous warmth and excitement. The new owner showed me where she wanted it to go and then asked if I would ” do the honors” of hanging the painting. I was happy to do so. Once it was up, she actually had tears in her eyes and gave me a great big hug. It was the best. She poured some beers and we raised our glasses and toasted. It made my heart soar. We sat and talked a bit. She asked me about my work and how I got to be a painter. I told her the Legend of the Red Thread of Fate and how it came to be a part of my life. Again, tears in her eyes. While we sat and talked, her oldest son, a freshman in high school, pulled a chair up right in front of it and just sat. Eventually, he too asked some questions and  I know my feet weren’t touching the ground. What a gift of love they gave to me as they welcomed my art with such ceremony and true appreciation. It really caught me off guard to be experiencing that moment but I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

 

This past week, she invited me along with my boys back to her home for another visit and to talk about a commission based off of Sisters Three. She proudly showed me her painting again and how it has become her reading corner. It was great to see it as it brought back fond memories for me, but it was clear it was a painting meant for her. I am glad I let it go.  I learned more about her this time and about her practice as a therapist for youth and families. It was a lovely visit and it went by much too quickly. She showed me that the red thread I had sent with a thank you note, was still tied around her wrist. I showed her mine and was so grateful that the red thread had done its job once again. Connection.

A few days later, I got a text from her asking if I had anymore of that thread that I could spare. She was going to be meeting with a group of 5 high school students who had a friend who passed away and she wanted to share the legend.

My knees felt weak and my eyes welled up. The familiar stab of sorrow in my heart.

I left the ball of thread on my front porch  which she later returned with a message that the session had gone well. The students took extra to pass along to other friends and loved ones. I closed my eyes and thought of those whose hearts were breaking. I thought of Laurel and her girls. I thought of my sister in law whose friend passed away last week. And I thought of all of the amazing people I get to love and be loved by.

I love that the legend is infinite. It has traveled so long and far already. How many times will it circle the globe?

I love to wonder who I still get to share it with and who they will share it with. It keeps me pushing forward in those days when I doubt myself and my path.  It reminds me that I truly paint (and write) to connect with my journey and  to connect with others.

Thank you for being here to take the time to connect with me. I really appreciate it. If you ever would like some red thread to pass along, message me your mailing address and I will pop some in the mail to you. Best, Cat

 

A week ago, Chris and I were making our way back home from a trip back to Virginia. We now know how very lucky we were to make it home.

He had driven back to help his parents move out of their home of 48 years. The home he and his brother were brought to as babies and were raised.  The home where his parents worked endlessly and tirelessly to create the life of their dreams. Almost a half a century of memories made for my in-laws, Pat and Chris.  Birthdays, anniversaries, bridge clubs, garden clubs, woodworking in the barn, gutting fish out back, canning fruits and vegetables from the garden and fruit trees along with endless painting, yard care and maintenance. The house had rhythm created out of the day in day out routine they comfortably lived in. The Giglios’ signature was everywhere. From the birdhouses he built to her formal rose garden by the enormous dogwood tree or her ceramic rabbits sitting next to the gardening boots on the brick stoop.

I have been going to that house for 26 years myself. Chris had some fun parties as teenagers while his parents were off to the beach or taking Pat to college. I remember my first dinner with his parents at the round kitchen table. I was so nervous, I had changed over and over again only to show up with my shirt on inside out AND backwards. She thought it was just the trend. It was the 80s! HA! I helped Chris pull potatoes from the garden, we worked on our wedding decorations in their lawn,we brought our own babies there to visit and now they too have their own memories of the house.

By the time I arrived, most of the house was empty. It seemed so much smaller all of a sudden and  so very tired. On the brick chimney in the kitchen hung Mrs. G’s calendar. She has had the same one year after year. Her distinct handwriting neatly written across the days of upcoming birthdays, Chris’ arrival, and doctors appointments. Did she keep them all? I imagined them all stacked up and tied neatly together with a ribbon. I began my task of emptying out closets and moving the contents over to the new house. It shocked me how intimate it felt. I wondered if someday I would have daughter in-laws going through my closets. I began to wonder where they were now. Time will tell, so I sent good thoughts to all of those who will love my boys.

It was strange to be so aware of standing in the middle of my life… if I am lucky. I could feel it as I stood in my mother in-law’s closet. I was that young girl who fell in love with her son while at the same time a middle aged woman feeling grateful for so many memories but also the inevitable limits of time. And yet, I felt excited that I have so much more to look forward to as my children grow up (much too quickly) and create their own lives and families. How fortunate I felt to be able to look and feel backwards and forward at the same time. It made the present day so much more precious.

The next day due to snow storms from Virginia to Colorado we decided to load up and take off a day early. Before I left, Mrs. G. gave me one of her treasures. It was a painting of flowers done on slate that had hung by her bed for as long as I could remember. It was done by her father in law’s best friend. He had been a barber in Connecticut but loved to paint. I am so happy to have it. I will cherish it always.

 

We stopped by the house one last time. I could feel Chris saying goodbye. He took a few more things from the unwanted pile and the old butter-churn his mom gave him.  We left in a mess of snow and worked our way in-between storms. Down the Shenandoah Valley, up and over the mountains of West Virginia and across the beautiful rolling hills of Kentucky. It was so nice to have Chris all to myself. A rarity these days. We reminisced a bit, caught up from the days we were apart and listened to audio books when it all felt too much. The next day we knew we were heading into another snow storm. We managed to get past St. Louis before the snow and work our way beyond Kansas City. It was now dumping snow. We slowly inched along and Chris was nervous as I drove. The steering felt loose, but not knowing his truck that well, I chalked it up to the snowy and icy roads. We finally gave up at 1 as we crept along at 18 miles per hour with almost no visibility. We got the second to last room at a hotel and settled in.  For the parents of three active, loud and spirited boys, being stuck by ourselves in a hotel is not a bad thing! We enjoyed the forced time out and quiet.

Early the next morning, the snow has stopped falling and we took off in the dark.  I called the house to talk to Alex before he headed off to school. Just wanting to say  “I love you.”  The sky in front of us slowly began to lighten. I turned to see the sunrise and to my surprise it looked like there were three suns rising. I had never seen anything like it before. Apparently it is called a Sun Dog.  It was so surreal but beautiful. I felt like we must be on another planet.  I felt giddy.

 

Soon, Chris realized that the steering felt loose and off. Again on bumpy snowy and icy roads and in the middle of nowhere, USA.  We kept going, trusting that Chris knew best.  I dozed off only to wake to Chris pulling off at the first exit he could. His eyes were a big and wild looking. By the time we got to the bottom of the ramp, the steering was completely out. Chris got out in the middle of the intersection and was underneath the truck asking me to pull and push the steering wheel back and forth. He managed to get the pin back in all while cars and semis were inches from him. I caught myself holding my breath. Now with a little bit of steering and a shit load of luck, we made our way to the Dodge dealership just a quarter of a mile away. It turned out, that when Chris had the truck serviced here in Fort Collins before his trip, they put the drive shaft and pin in upside down!!!! We were lucky that it was so long that it had room to bend. The mechanic, a huge man with a gentle face, came out shaking his head and looked at us and said “you two are so very lucky.” One more bump we could have gone flying off of I-70. He suggested that we go play the lottery right then. We smiled politely and nervously. I thought I would throw up.

Once back in the truck and only 6 hours from home, the adrenaline had worn off and I just wanted to be home holding my boys.  Again the clarity of the present by looking back in how extremely lucky we were and forward to the life we don’t want to miss. Talk about a slap of perspective. Later a friend told me that seeing Sun Dogs are a good omen. I agreed whole heartedly!!

We got home right as school was getting out. We loved on and snuggled up with our boys. The best hugs and kisses ever. I didn’t want the moment to end. With all 5 of us piled on the sofa, I felt so at peace and overwhelming gratitude.

Later that night, after they were tucked in bed, I unwrapped the painting of the flowers on the slate that Mrs. G gave me and hung it on the wall. I love it. It reminds me to be joyful, to receive and share love, to follow my heart, to be grateful for the memories, the here and now and gifts of the unknown. Someday I will take it off my wall and pass it on to someone else, perhaps my own daughter in law. It’s lovely to think about but for now I am going to soak up today.