Art and Tears

I’ve been doing it a lot, you know. Thinking about my dad. I am burying myself in my art, practicing in watercolor rather than pastel.

My dad would have enjoyed my mini paintings. He loved to sketch, to build, to paint. Oh how I miss him.

August 8th will be the one year anniversary of his death. I can feel it. I haven’t felt well for a couple of weeks now. I have been nauseated, anxious. Could it be this? Or something else?

I had a panic attack early the other morning at work. My folder for Tuesday morning of things to do was thick and I cried. What the heck is going in? Stupidity. This is not me, I love the busy work.

Lately I feel as though I am being swallowed whole. I can’t explain it, nor can I figure it out. I’ve given up trying. I have dove into my art, exploring new possibilities, new media.

I miss working in pastels but my gosh, talk about messy. My husband would have a fit. So I am resorting to watercolor. It is easy to clean up and there is no dust for the dogs to walk through and track throughout the house.

But the truth? I love this! Look at these beautiful colors.

Image by Robin Moreau

I have started my Christmas cards.

Here is a sneak peek:

Image by Robin Moreau

They are all different. Sigh. I hope to get through the next month.

I know dad would not want me to worry. I can see him shaking his head.

Miss you dad, love you ❤


Think, Be, Provide

You all know I have food allergies. Because of this, about 5 years ago, my life changed dramatically. I couldn’t eat what I wanted to eat. I had to stay clear of many wonderful things, eggs, grains, dairy and preservatives, etc. My allergies mimicked that of someone with Celiac Disease, yet that is not what I have.

I had a tantrum in the parking lot the day I received my test results from my Allergist. My gosh I cried the whole way home and when making the switch, I lost 30 pounds.

Now I’m over my tantrum and have realized how healthier I feel. But breakfast is very hard for me. I am a BIG breakfast eater and when eggs, whole grains, and dairy is omitted, it leaves me with protein, fruits and vegetables.

However, out of all the grains, I can have rice, corn and quinoa. Yawn. Try finding those breads without egg or egg product in them. Nearly impossible.

I did find rice waffles, no eggs. So this morning I have a rice waffle, with fresh ground peanut butter, sliced banana and drizzled with honey….with a side of roasted broccoli. I can see your faces cringe. But for me, it’s essential.

Image by Robin Moreau

For my husband, not so much. He’s like Peter Griffin from Family Guy. Put a vegetable in front of him and he pushes it away with the sound “mmuuaaahh”. Just like a kid.

But I still feed him healthy. I want him to be healthy but I do buy him the occasional unhealthy snack. And of course he will go buy things himself. But I do love that man and want him to be around for awhile.

Start your day with a healthy breakfast. It makes all the difference it how your body will feel the rest of the day. Provide the option of healthy foods for your family. Whether they want it or not.

Have a wonderful day!❤

What’s in a Birthday

Yesterday was my daughter’s birthday. She 23. She is my baby, she is highly talented, snarky, intelligent, and strong-willed and I must say, I wouldn’t have her any other way. We have raised her to be an independent, strong woman. And she loves chocolate.

Her Cake – Image by Robin Moreau

Today is my son’s birthday. He is 25. And he reminds me, it’s a huge celebration because it’s 420….the celebration of smoking marijuana. I just roll my eyes. He is funny, a master-minded overthinker, and walks that 6 foot 4 inch bean pole frame of his like he has only seconds to get where he needs to be and I wouldn’t change a thing. He loves anything that contains sugar. Red Velvet, his favorite.

His Cake – Image by Robin Moreau

420. Right. I’d rather have a martini.

Why do we celebrate, what we call, “birthdays”? Shouldn’t it be, rather an anniversary of one’s birth?

I am reminded every birthday how I am not getting any younger. And I am reminded every birthday that I cannot eat cake.

But birthdays are a celebration of life. One more year on this earth.

One more year.

So in celebration of all the “4 -20” birthdays out there, happy anniversary of your birth.

So inhale your 420 smoke and eat your cake too.

❤ You deserve it. ❤

Puppets Past

Today was a good day to get out of town and do something different. And different I did. I love museums; it doesn’t matter what kind either.

An hour and a half drive brought me to the Valentinetti Museum in Bremerton.

This is where puppets meet my nightmares. It is eerily interesting, and surprisingly I didn’t meet Mr. Rogers. But I met quite the opposite.

Image by Robin Moreau

The history behind puppeteers is captured in this quaint museum, which by the way resides upstairs to the Historical Society & Museum. Just off the water, two opposite worlds collide, reality of ghosts of past, and fairytale.

Who doesn’t love a good story?

Image by Robin Moreau

Image by Robin Moreau
Image by Robin Moreau

A little eerie, scary, creepy, whatever you my want to call it, but fascinating at the same time. Entertainment at its best, in the day.

And of course the skeletons are my favorite. I mean, who doesn’t love a skeleton? Especially this one….he’s so cute!!!

Image by Robin Moreau

I find the past fascinating, especially when there is a bit of quirkiness, darkness, involved.

Image by Robin Moreau

Who wouldn’t love this horse galloping across stage in a make believe world? Or this lion?

Image by Robin Moreau

It takes us out of reality and puts us in a world of make believe. When we feel that maybe all hope is gone, there is still a world, which in this case here at the museum, made kids and I’m sure adults….for a moment…happy.

Just a glimse…

Just a moment.

Image by Robin Moreau

Simple Treasures

I had to get out of the house today. My husband is napping. I talked my daughter into going to the beach with me. It’s about a mile or so from our home.

Image by Robin Moreau

The cold wasn’t too bad until we were past the bluffs. Which by the way, had a huge crack. I hadn’t been to this beach in so long, I cannot believe how much more the bluffs had eroded. The wind picked up and I thought my ears would get freezer burnt. But my gosh it was so gorgeous outside.

Image by Robin Moreau

Just a small adventure to remind myself to enjoy nature, and despite the cold, I had almost forgotten that being near the beach is why we moved here. It always brings me a sense of peace.

Image by Robin Moreau

Summer simply cannot get here fast enough. Not that I’m wishing my life away, but I miss the warmth and being outdoors all too much!

Image by Robin Moreau

I had also forgotten about this creepy, building. It’s been there forever and my daughter was daring me to look inside. I told her no way, I’m pretty positive Candyman lives in there. I’d never sleep again!

Image by Robin Moreau

On the walk back I found this rock. It reminded me of a broken heart, which made me think of my father. He loved the beach.

Image by Robin Moreau

Here’s to more adventures. And remember to live, laugh, love!

Image by Robin Moreau

Hell From an Angry Ostrich

It’s been an awful week so far. I’m not sleeping, I’m mentally drained and my legs hurt. I’ve got this looming anxiety and I am not sure where it’s coming from.

I’m certainly not writing this to complain, but rather find a way to cope.

I was blessed today when I walked into the bank. The teller, who is not the usual teller for that particular branch, was there. She is such a breath of fresh air. A woman who has a personality that sparkles. Normally I hate making small talk, but she turned my day around. We spoke about the snow, and she told me about her new puppy and how her puppy had experienced the snow for the first time. I walked away feeling a little brighter.

On the way home, I had to make a dreaded trip to Costco. I hadn’t recovered from my mid-week of “funk” and I feared once I grabbed that cart, fit only for Hercules and walk through the door flashing my card at the attendant, I would then and only then be possessed by a bad mood demon and the gates of Hell would open wide.

Image by Robin Moreau

And I was right.

It was like a switch.

I only needed a few things, so I did the only thing I knew to do, to prevent the end of my day from becoming worse….get it, get it fast and get the hell out of there.

So I sprinted.

My legs are long. My strides were that of an angry ostrich. I tell you, I flew through the aisles illegally passing people. If there were Costco police, I would have been pulled over. I would have been arrested. 3 years minimum.

Whenever I went blazing around a corner, my Brobdingnagian cart’s wheels screamed bloody murder on that hard, morgue of concrete floor.

And people stared.

A man and his cart came to a screeching hault to prevent a t-bone collision and all contents of his cart madly slid to the other side.

Another man stepped out in front of me and I swerved, barely grazing the flat rear of his dusty, tight Wrangler jeans.

I made it back to my car, contents in tow and my body, my mind, resumed back to its semi-normal self and I was exhausted.

This is ridiculous. How can I be so unbelievably annoyed at the world? This is not me, and I do not like myself right now and whatever “this” funk is, is not healthy.

My dogs greeted me with love when I walked into the house. They are so happy.

I have so much to be grateful for. We all do, even if we think it’s not much.

I am grateful for those who surround me. Those with love, laughter, and compassion. I embraced the evening, loving my family, loving my dogs.

And learning to love myself again.

Oh Canada

I love Canada. It’s where my dad was from and when my husband and I travel there, I feel I’m in a magical world. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s because I know it was my father’s home place, or maybe it’s because I know he wanted desperately to get back there before he died but was never able to.

Image by Robin Moreau

There is so much beauty. Beauty I find in the smallest of things; the architecture…I get weak in the knees for architecture. My dad was a contractor and I think he bestowed in me the true beauty of it, the wood, bricks and stone, and the final outcome.

Image by Robin Moreau

I find beauty in the decor, design and color.

A year or so ago, my family traveled to Victoria and Bear Mountain. I never wanted to leave. Between the beauty of Butchard Gardens, the resort and the city, I was in Heaven. Even the rain didn’t let me down, despite the outcome of my hair. The beauty was far too grand.

Image by Robin Moreau

I believe I have permanently absorbed it into my brain, preserving it until my return.

Image by Robin Moreau

Someday. We will return. And for the love of my father, knowing he would have loved to have had the moment to experience once more the place he loved and had such fond memories.

Image by Robin Moreau

He lives through me, I am his spiritual tour guide, bringing joy to my heart. It may sound silly to you, but to me, it is another memory, a way of never letting go.

Image by Robin Moreau
Image by Robin Moreau

The picture below is one of my favorite pictures of my father. I don’t know how old I was when this picture was taken, I may not even had been born yet. Either way, it’s my favorite and it is one of many pictures I have, framed in my office.

Image by Robin Moreau