Air painting and the Jay

My life, as it exists in the here and now, is quite a perplexing thing. I am currently credit-less and working on a strictly cash only basis. My only child is newly married and has a different last name than mine, which has left me feeling strangely adrift. I have developed a new fascination with old Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis movies, which causes me to examine the mechanics of my slightly twisted attachment to throwbacks to simpler times......and I'm sorry, paratroopers in metal helmets toe tapping and making Latin arms while singing about jumping out of planes just makes me laugh.........and I found myself doing something last night that I've never done before......air painting.

In the midst of my latest slightly unhealthy need to throw away everything that's not freakin' nailed down, I found myself stopping,,,,,and sitting......and holding an imaginary brush as I laid down the imaginary strokes that would make a painting of Nickolai as he slept in the sunny spot. My only thoughts were color and the direction of my strokes. "Burnt umber and gold ochre......white........ultramarine blue, burnt umber.....white.......a tiny touch of sap green......white" I'm not sure exactly how long this went on before I became aware of the strangeness of my task. OK...so people air guitar and that's not weird right? they pretend to drum with pencils right? yeah........air painting......that's just fucking weird.

All right then.........God has made me an artist. I get it. I might ask why he didn't make me a neuro surgeon or the CEO of Microsoft or some such other lucrative field that precludes the purchase of mini ravioli because it's 89 cents a can.....but I get it. I'm an artist. Not a lot of those on the fortune 500...but I get it. I found myself last week feeling the weight of my lack of fundage....wondering why......to what point and purpose am I called to be the artist that I am. "I need a sign God.......just give me a sign that I'm on the right road!......that there is a reason and a point.......and that I'm not just standing in the "too stupid to be in the right line" line.

I leashed up the dogs and headed to the park for a walk to stave off the looming panic attack. I was rounding the turn back to the car and decided to head off in to the field. Nick loves to scope out that area for squirrels. I stopped to rest a minute and saw the blue fluttering at my feet. directly in my path is a wounded jay fledgling. His tail feathers were messed up and one wing didn't look so good. "Well shit fuck" is honestly and precisely what went through my head at that moment. "now I gotta go back to the fucking car and pull the fuck around and transport a bird along with my 2 dogs back to the clinic and call the wildlife rehabilitator" I made a mental note to be a little more careful when asking for signs from God......he tends to get right on that.

I bundled up the bird in my jacket and headed off to the clinic. I got there just as the doctor needed me to assist in the euthanasia of a sweet old Sheltie. He was by himself when the call came in long after hours. That I showed up just as he needed me was part two of the sign I had requested earlier that evening. We said goodbye as Joey drifted quietly off and I cried as I always do in these cases. Di showed up for the jay...."nice weight to him......yeah, that wing's broken.....maybe that one too.......I'll see what I can do"

I'm on the right road. It may be a road where I drop my coffee in the parking lot...go back to get another only to have the cat knock it off the counter. It may be a road where I lean over the toilet to flush and drop my bifocals in. It may be a road where I discover that Willie regurged on the couch only after I sit in it.......but it's my road....and it's the right one for me.

I called Di yesterday. "How's the jay?" "Oh hes a pain in my ass........hes resisting self feeding, the little bastard likes being hand fed"

Yeah.......that sounds about right