What have we learned about Mrs. Hall? A quiz!

It's been a long week people. Having this much fun is exhausting ;)

LET'S SEE WHAT WE HAVE LEARNED THIS WEEK ON MRS. HALL!!

CLICK HERE!!

Then get back to work people! Those toy trucks aren't going to push themselves around! And don't forget to make the 'vroomm vrrroom' noise! Works better that way. :)

Cleaning offices, Art, Madness and the letters of Vincent Van Gogh

While recovering from being hit by a car (for details click here), I worked as an cleaning lady. Basically, I cleaned offices. I set my own hours, often starting 2 am. It would take me four hours to do the work and most of the office people arrived at 6 am. I was about 20 years old. I had a lot of freedom.



I was really nutty back then, being alone was best. Again, I was recovering from a significant brain injury. (details here if you wish). This one time, whilst working late at night, I xeroxed my bare chest on one of the copiers. The paper got didn't come out. I had to pry open various drawers and doors to yank it out. I still have that copy in my personal files. The image is distorted. The paper is wrinkled and smooshed from being caught in the machine.



I would also clean a garage/car fix it shop. They had a pinball machine in the way back. Never played though. It was a huge warehouse type place. Really dusty and semi slick with grease.

That being said, one time, I was almost late for my two am shift. Because of this movie.



It details the last 60 days of Vincent Van Gogh. Now, I am not a huge fan of Vincent. I like him, just not in that way. I enjoy his thick use of paint, the explosions of expression on canvas.

But, it lacks figures or people in his paintings. He was poor man, thus, very little money for a model. He used himself alot. Which leaves the viewer with a rather stern impression of the man.

Beyond that I don't have much to say about his art. Again, art that attracts me the most-- has people in it. Landscapes and such don't really do it for me.



That being said, it was a very good film. I didn't catch the ending though (again, I had to work.) It was one of my first peeks into a life gently pulsing with mental illness.

Mental illness is now my full time job. Obviously, it is of interest to me. Also of interest, autobiographies. Another interest? Art. Which brings me to this book. It has all three.



This book contains Vincent's letters to his brother Theo. Theo was a caring and supportive brother. There was a lot of love between the two. They died six months apart. That says volumes.

Anyway, the letters are long and sometimes rambling. (I know, I know- pot calling kettle black and all). But fascinating all the same. Will do a post on this. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, I eventually watched the whole thing with Mr. Hall. Of note during this viewing, a scene between Vincent and the prostitutes. He enjoyed the company of these women. It is gentle, these scenes.

Achingly gentle when I think back. The very memory catches my breath. Vincent was a solitary and isolated man. But he had love to give. Even if he payed these women to love them, it was love all the same.



Anyway, back to the scene. They have finished making of the love. Cut to Vincent. He had a sad, drawn look on his face. Mr. Hall began to talk about how sad and depressed men can be after sex sometimes. I do not understand this. Men and their sex lives fascinate me though. Thus- a post will be drawn up soon . . Stay tuned.


Have an arty weekend! :)

That's when the beatings started

If you are regular fan of the Blog de Senora Hall, you know how I feel about the mister. I lurve the Mister Hall with all my heart. I remember our first conversation on the phone, which lasted something like 5 hours.

During the first half hour I said, "You're such a brilliant thinker." I was gushing. Embarrassed, I tried to take it back. But, it was out there. I was smitten. I had gushed. No takesy backsies.

I had never encountered anyone like Mr. Hall before. He is all man. He is very strong and powerful. With a blend of thoughtful, caring and thorough love. As you can see, I still gush. Almost nine years of marriage people. He still rings my bell.

However, as a result of his thoughtfulness and the care he takes with everything, he moves at a slower pace than me. I am a warp speed kind of girl. Again, I have the ADD brain. I actively attend to this, find ways to slow myself down. I try to sleep well, eat well and do my yoga. But, under stress, everything speeds up. Including my thoughts, emotions and actions. I miss details and get snappy. And bossy.

The bossy stems from being a faux single mom right now. I have had a few stints as a single Mom already. Mr. Hall has been over seas twice during our marriage, about four months each time. During those times, like now, I slip into Robo Mom mode. I am very focused on giving the kids a very normal and calm life. Making sure everything is taken care of and making sure they are happy, warm and having fun. Which is what we usually do are parents. I just do all of it when he is not here.

This requires a lot of energy.

As a side effect, my focus becomes very narrow. I start to neglect myself emotionally. Basically, I shut off. Not to the kids though, they get love and hugs. They get snuggles, cuddles and tickles. I shut off to everyone else. Mr. Hall included.

But, this time of single Momdom is different then before. He is not overseas. Mr. Hall shows up on the weekends. During the weekends, I am knocked clear out of my Robo Mom mode. I have to shift everything -my thoughts, my actions, my way of communicating.

Sometimes, I'm not so good at it. I have to remind myself that he is not my 'helper'. He is not someone I can assign tasks and boss around. I need to ask nicely and be loving about things. After all, he is my partner. Someone who needs care, who needs my love. Who needs me.

Which is hard for me to understand sometimes. He is such a strong guy, so much of me is taken care of by him. To hear him needing me, to hear him say uncle, is to admit that he is not indestructible. And it calls attention to how self centered I can be.

Case in point, last Sunday morning.

I was sitting at the computer, planning the day. Exhausted, puffy eyed and twitchy. I was figuring out where to go with the kids. It needs to be a place that can entertain both a six and a two year old. I was planning how long it would take to drive there, coordinating the drive with nap times, planning what we needed to bring (clothes, diapers, snack etc).

Meanwhile, the kids were loudly playing in the next room. Half of my brain was in that room, hovering like a fly on the wall, picturing what was going on. Keeping a third eye on the them. My brain was all hyper yet fuzzy.

Then I hear a holler from the kids. It's not an emergency holler, more of a 'she snatched my toy' or 'he hit me' holler. I want to intervene and stop the yelping. I am trying to plan the day. Robo Mom Mode.

I say to Mr. Hall, who is laying on the bed, eyes closed while he half dozes, "Hey, can you check on them?" I am bristling and most likely, whining.

He says, "Their fine babe, we can hear them just fine. I could use a back rub though."

That's when the beatings started.

"GAAAH!!!!" Says I, "GAAAHH!!! JUST CHECK ON THEM!!! JUST DO IT!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS LIKE HERE!! What goes on during the week!!!" I cross the room, fists all clenched, cheeks all red. I realize how ridiculous I am though. I do have a slight smirk.

I straddle him and do that girl pounding on chest thing. Funneling the irked energies. We start to wrestle. He is a very adept guy. I am pinned in under 2 seconds. I am giggling a little. Starting to cry though. Soft sob.

I'm all wrapped up in his arms and legs on the twin bed. He is soft and strong. "Do you have a list of things you can do on the weekends? Places to go and such?" He exudes calm.

"No! I am just figuring it out, figuring out where the zoos and parks are in this city. You have no idea babe, you have no idea how much energy this takes. I am barely keeping up with things. No energy for 'lists.'"

I am sobbing softly. Over tired and spent. Exhausted from living this life up here. Living with my parents became unbearable


two months ago.


They love the grandkids, but don't offer any sort of hands on help. But they do love the grandkids. And they tolerate me. But, they are not fans of Mrs. Hall by any stretch. They do not have my back.

We underestimated the work it would take to get the house ready for sale. We underestimated toll it would take on both of us. Mr. Hall has been doing it all. He is only one guy. Working 70 hours a week. We should have hired people to help months ago. We have help now though. He is only working two days a week now.

So all of this single mom crap, it is turning chronic. And it is getting harder to turn to Mr. Hall for help. Harder to give him help when he asks for it. We are off in our rhythms.

That being said.

The house is now listed.

Which is the second of many steps of making this right. The first step is pealing back my isolative tendencies. We need to get through this together. Which means reaching out to him, giving him backrubs.

Because taking care of him is taking care of me. Which should, with any luck, reduce the beatings.

Half naked French women and Coco Chanel

Fashion, if done right, is an art form. The artist uses cloth and thread as their medium. An artist's wares become the sound of their voice or the color of their hair, an extension of their inner world. Their art is like a set of self made finger prints. Innate yet unique. Belonging to only one.

Let's examine the finger prints of one Mademoiselle Chanel. First, there is the classic quilted purses.



Before the classic quilted purse, there was the original Chanel suit- seen here on the former First Lady, Jackie Kennedy. Take note of the pill box hat. My mother wore a white pill box hat, complete with floor length veil- on her wedding day.



Also seen on the Mrs. Michelle Obama, our current first lady.





Now, let's take a peek behind the designs. Examine the inner wold of a woman born August 19, 1883. She was born in a poor house to workers who did not read or write. The record keeping was primitive to say the least. Adds to the mystery.

She was orphaned at some point, her mother died of tuberculosis. Her father went to work to help raise his seven children. Her formative years were in an Abbey, learning to become a seamstress. Let's take a look shall we.



Interesting reading through her back story. Imagining a life of abject poverty in a cold Abbey in France. It was at the Abbey she learned how to work with cloth and thread. Taking patterns and then making clothes. Clothes are something that touches our bodies every day.



She left at age 18. That is when her real life began.

Her first life was hidden from view when biographers began to examine things. The primitive record keeping helped her. She purposefully hid her background, making up her story of being raised by spinsters and coming from American Wealth. She lied about where she came from. Lied because she came from poverty. Which was seen as a moral failing. A ugly scar to be covered up.

Note the pearls. Mademoiselle Chanel believed that women should always have white to frame their face. And white cuffs to adorn their wrists. Always.

It's all there though, the utilitarian upbringing, the straight sculpture of thought. The lines in her designs can be dizzying if you stare too long. It is her voice though, matter of fact and sure footed. That is her up there. Born 1883.

This woman built an empire beyond her wildest dreams. It is all very fascinating. Even more fascinating now that this woman is playing her on the screen.

Oooh how I love French women and French films. Again, in my list of top ten films-there is only three. So far anyway. I am movie snob. So this movie, Amelie, this has all the elements that make my heart go pitter patter.



It was playing in the background as I was laboring with my son. I could go on and on here . . . but, it can wait for another post. Something to discover later. :)



I have never been to France. But I imagine it is just bursting with everything I hold dear. A veritable explosion of artist life. And the beauty of it, well, it may very well destroy me when I go.

But for now, I will watch this film. Complete with half naked french women. Take a look :)



And now I'm off to dream lots of dreams, growing my own inner world. And splashing on my favorite perfume.



Which is FAR FAR better than the Number Five by the way.

Life never smelled so sweet.

Peaches and Screams

THIS WEEKEND- THE TRIBE CALLED HALL:

Visited two nature preserves, walked the kiddie trails. Went to a park (where Mac tricycled and Pancake increased in roller blading skills), went to a local raceway, watched drag racing with REALLY LOUD dragsters. Watched a bunch of fire works. There was a carnival, kids went on their first roller coaster. SCREAMED THEIR LITTLE HEADS OFF! Big smiles plastered across their faces ;)

Much more though too.

but

one of the best parts of this weekend- was the eating of peaches on the porch. Awesome juicy summer peaches! So yummy these peaches, so yummy the Pancake exclaimed-

WOW THESE PEACHES ARE SOOO GOOD!

I WISH THE WORLD WAS MADE OF FRUIT!!!

and thus, we have one of Pancake's favorite songs :)

The presidents of the united states of america - peaches


On a side note, the wee Mac did not sustain any injuries during our adventures. SCORE! This is an accomplishment, because he is a toddler who toddles and knows no fear. In his wee two and half years he has had stitches twice and just got over a black eye. A big, fat, black eye that had his eye swollen shut for two days.

He is all boy :)

Here's a song for him :)




SO

What'd you do this weekend? :)