daily painting | seattle sunflower

Drip management. That may sound like a description of online dating, but it’s about my roof. I’ve had four contractors up there over the past two years smearing sealant around but still I need to line up the bowls and buckets on my living room floor. Fingers crossed the seemingly competent roofer that came last week to inspect and offer advice will arrive to finally and literally seal the deal. And soon.

This kind of stuff can really freak me out — my home! It’s violated! I do enjoy that lovely chorus of raindrops on my roof, even if accented by the splashes of the leaks plopping into the bowls. I strategically line up the puppy pee pads on the floor in case the drips migrate and miss the bowls (terrifically absorbent; I use them for the bottom of my guinea pig cage).

But now that I’m a relic of “mid-century” (born in the 1950s), I’ve learned a few things. Like how life always has challenges and problems to figure out. And how to adapt and fix things and relax; a solution will sooner or later present itself. Might as well keep going and enjoy life’s amazingness.

Like a good book! I’ve decided that since I’ve never read them, I’m going to read the Harry Potter series; now’s a good time as my brain operates at about the level of a third-grader. And they’re terrific. Good to read about magic and wizardry and owls that deliver the mail. A lovely relief from grief and death. I tell ya, I’m learning a few things.

Happy New Year.

[painting from photo of sunflowers taken in October in my sister’s neighborhood in Seattle]

10″ x 10″ ink, watercolor, pencil, acrylic on paper

 

 

 

watercolor painting of sunflowers by emily weil

daily painting | sunny flowers in teapot

Obviously my sisters have been on my mind lately since they have both recently left the planet. Younger sister Kay was a force to be reckoned with — focused and determined; when she had her sights on something you stepped back and got out of her way. I admired that strength, and also was frustrated by it (easy to feel bulldozed by her). Similarly, I think of older sister Diana who only a few months ago committed suicide. She was so shackled and hobbled by mental illness (she had a number of diagnoses throughout her life), paralyzed and tortured by panic and daily terrors. I related to her as I also absorbed a lot of fear as a little one, as our dad, a truly miserable guy, often flew into rages. Which makes me think, well, how would my sisters think of me? And did they see things in me to which I am blind? All too likely (this quote comes to mind from Fran Lebowitz: “Being judgmental, to me, just means I have standards.”). But I so aspire to clear-headed self-reflection. I do not want to live an unexamined life, which brings me to these sunflowers. They have such wide-open faces and seem so trusting. So American, too, being native to this country. Home-grown. My reflexive reactions to life when I hurt are to withdraw, to keep myself safe. Which is the illustration of Diana’s life; she was agoraphobic and painfully tormented in her later years. So it feels risky for me to open myself up to all of life’s myriad experiences with trust and faith and hope, which makes for a richer, often bumpier life. I’ll take it though. 

I am somewhat on that wobbly cliff as I ponder retirement and my future. I’m pushing 70, and in light of my sisters’ deaths, want to live to the max in whatever time I have left. What does that mean? Not sure yet, though art certainly is the hub of that wheel. These past 15 months have been ridiculously challenging and painful, for many reasons. As they have for all of us. Yet I feel extraordinarily grateful for the many gifts I enjoy every day, from my health to my life on the water to creating and teaching art to time with loved ones to holding a wild hawk in my hand (see GGRO.org) to… well, too may things to list. I’ve been encouraged lately to celebrate the life I have designed. OK. Will do.

7″ x 7″ watercolor, pen, acrylic ink on paper = $65