Monica Wiesblott: May 2011

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Dress up

My mind is mulling over some new ideas and while it does that I am left to occupy myself.

Like waiting for a cake to bake or a mold to set.

So I played dress up...it is not a new idea, I do it more often then I would like to admit.

I guess even though I am a physically grown woman, I am still a little girl at heart.

Yesterdays theme: REVOLUTION

I told hubby after taking this image that I felt like I was ready to start a fire...

or make some noise.

"Liberated Women, build up socialism" 1926

such a pretty image, so powerful.

If I had seen this posted somewhere in my town,

I would have taken my own copy.

I am such a printmaking geek.

"Women workers take up your rifle!" 1917

My revolution was short lived...because

I saw this image of Frida and it made me smile

We all know revolutionaries don't smile.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Waiting

Actual waiting is taking place in this photograph

Waiting is really the ritual of passing time....well more like an art form.

Recently I have found myself practicing this art form more than others, more then normal at least.

I mean most of us have to be patient in general: waiting in grocery lines, the microwave to beep, the tea to brew, the dog to stop barking, the alcohol to take effect.

~
My most recent episode of waiting was in a medical venue, hospital waiting.

It reconfirmed that time passes differently in hospital waiting rooms.

They are like strange time machines.

The magazines and brochures only hold your attention so long and then you have to start making up stories about the others that are there just as panicked as you.

My visit was to wait for my dad's major back surgery.

He has spent his life lifting things, standing on hard floors, and way too much twisting and turning with heavy awkward weights. His vertebrae had collapsed and was now threatening to paralyse him if he didn't stabilize things.

I was keeping my mom company, as I felt it was not cool to have to wait alone and scared, no matter how brave one is.

I brought snacks and myself as distraction but in all honesty I was just as freaked out as everyone else there that had to relinquish control of their situation.

We saw all sorts of ways to process stress while there waiting.

We saw the bratty college kid and mom waiting for their loved one, and cracking under the pressure of time passing with little information.

We saw the doting children waiting for a mother they brought in via the ER.

The senior waiting for her life long love to have his back fixed.
The friends that refused to eat or move until they had heard word that their loved one was in recovery.

Then there is the "liaison" in the waiting room, the senior that sits at a desk and checks for updates from the operating rooms and recovery rooms that family is never allowed into.

the two women we saw that personed this desk were harsh women. The first was sharp and stern and snappy, clocking over a 1000 hours of volunteer time had made her a short fuse.

She was crunching on lemon scented hard candies most of her shift.

Her replacement after several hours was a knitter who leered over her reading glasses at everyone in the room, and shooting looks at people giggling or trying to lift the thick thick mood. She spilled several "chews" into a basket on her desk that us "waiters" could help ourselves to.

I took one, unwrapped it, smelled it and watched the senior next to me try and ID the flavor.

I returned my unopened candy after that.

the name drew me in, the smell made me wonder

what it really was

After 8+ hours of waiting we finally got word that my father was leaving the recovery room and being moved to his room. We were shuffled to the front desk to get a new "visitor badge" aka sticker and told his room number. This was a mass exodus of waiters and so we shuffled down the halls together