Dagnabit

My santo is pissed off. This morning she whispered to me that she wanted to be a fado singer and hang with the Portugese sailors instead of being a saint. She wants a noisy, boisterous life.

So - the results of my doctor's appointment this morning to discuss my voice loss. Sadly, I've pretty much even lost the weak croaking that I had for awhile. The doc explained that because over 4" of the vagus nerve was removed there would be no "miracle nerve regeneration". That in fact as the vocal chord lies dormant it will actually atrophy and grow weaker over time.

Blech. Moving on to the next rock-and-a-hard-place. I'm scheduled for thyroplasty surgery on May 18th. What they do is open the last incision back up and put a piece of gortex into the side of the vocal cord that is paralyzed to push it over so it can close better. This should help me with breathing and swallowing as well as giving me a louder voice.

The yucky side of this surgery is that they do it without putting you to sleep. As in gag, cough, can't breathe, and so on. I have a helluva gag reflex already which caused me a tough night after the first surgery so I am a little put off by that but it will be worth it if I can talk again.

Some things we choose, some things we endure. Thank your voice today. Laugh out loud at least once for me. xo

She's Baaaacckkkkk

I can whisper and croak. It wears me out but at least I am no longer completely mute. Stephanie and I travel to our photo shoot on Friday for the plaster book with North Light. I feared finding myself lost in a distant airport, unable to ask for help. But that will not happen now. I can ask for help. And Stephanie is going to watch over me like a powerful goddess. I am going to take the plunge. If I fall on my face I will tell you. But I plan not to wobble.

There are elves in the studio again. Wrapping up doll heads in plaster gauze. They are very strange and beautiful.

If you do this, lengthen the noses and slim down the cheeks so your scultptures evolve from the doll proportions of baby-ness. I got this idea over at Tory Brokenshire's blog where she and her friends altered doll heads with Sculpey clay. Brilliant, I thought. And then I got to work.

I want to make more santos. I love the way plaster chips and ages. Plaster, plaster, plaster. I'm even dreaming of it. No one that Stephanie and I know of has done a book on plaster. It is scheduled to come out early 2011. We will show you the good stuff and hopefully there will be a resurgence of this common and lovely material on the craft scene. It can do nearly anything.

This is my new life. I am a little whopperjawed but still vertical. It is fascinating, really. What we can do. All of us.

Inspired by Lynne, I stretched some plaster gauze onto paper and did a painting on that, scribing lines into the plaster and building up layers.

After the first day I had this and liked the freshness of it. The plaster showing through. Whites sparkling. Sometimes it is a mistake to kill all the whites.

But then heck, I wanted more texture, more color, more puttering. So this is the "flushed" version. I say that because her lipstick is smeared; I think her beau slipped into the studio overnight and they had a kissing session. Remember when you kissed the beloved for so long that your lips swelled a little and you got the razor burn? (sigh) not TMI I hope.

She is my angel with the broken wing.

And here I am taken yesterday morning when my dear Shellie, Steff and Nate visited (daughters and grandson) bringing me a lei and pineapples from Hawaii. As you can see I'm not too much worse for the wear.

The sun is shining in Portland and the chipper-shredder is humming away in the garden. It soothes me to know that life goes on no matter what. New babies, the sun rising on schedule, energy and vitality everywhere I look. 99.6% of the world is perfection, kindness, beauty. That's good enough for me. xoxo