As though I care any more what day it is.
I am hungry. I am not accustomed to eating meat and, you know, the whole process of shopping, deciding, hauling it home and eventually cooking it. Not working.
I took an overnight shift for another advocate, so no cooking yesterday, as I was therapizing, grouping and sleeping. The shift went well, I met the new women and accomplished so much. I missed having the house hopping, but all of that quiet was divine for catching up on everything. When we passed the shift baton this morning, I was asked to do a special in-house project and received a telephone call from one of the upper staff. She wants me to help coordinate an art show with pieces done by survivors of domestic abuse. This is not going to be easy.
The first reason is that this staff person wants to hold it in the evening at a bar/restaurant, which is really a bar with a couple of tables, although they do make good food, at least they did the one time I was there six years ago.
The problem is that many women are reluctant, if not downright afraid of being outdoors at night. The second issue is that most of them are either using alcohol and other drugs or are in recovery. They are all fragile, most particularly those who are trying so hard to stay clean and sober.
So, she is willing to forget about the bar, but still has the desire to hold it at night, at a gallery or some other venue, and she wants the work to be available for sale. I am not an expert in any of this, but I have juried and curated many exhibits and shows, and this needs to be decided right now, in order for there to be a decent turn-out of people who are willing to support the ideas and willing to spend money. She want the show/exhibit to be in October. Got to start now.
Another aspect that I do not want to handle over the telephone (we are texting...gosh, me sending texts, just like a big girl), is that there will be a significant number of women that I might be able to convince to participate, but, hell, we the survivors are vulnerable and that is going to keep many women away from the whole thing.
I mean, think of it. The shelter sponsors an art show. Women are convinced to make something and be willing to show it publicly, and then are expected to be there.
That is like exhibiting them for the curiosity and opinions of strangers.
I am thinking that it is a basically good idea, but that the women should not have to self-identify if they do not want to do so. The staff person has walked the border of exploitation for some of her other projects. Two that come to mind are bringing in a church group and making the women bake cookies with them. I might have been the only person who thought that might not work, as our women are finally in a safe place and some of them felt like they were being paraded just to make some church ladies feel like they are doing something wonderful.
The second one is that a local sports group held a fund-raiser-game for the shelter, then brought the money and some desserts to the shelter so that the women could cook a meal to thank them. That actually is a nice idea, but the staff person's menu ideas were expensive and she thought that the money and/or food was going to magically appear or something.
There are more, but those are the two most recent. Now, I do not want to be a debbie-downer or a crank or a killjoy or a bitch. Really. But, if you want to do something, perhaps, and this is just one of my insane and crazy-bitch ideas, but how about including the women in the shelter in brainstorming and planning what they would be comfortable doing?
No, I guess that is too radical. Also, way too much work, all that business of being sensitive to what our women are experiencing and what they just survived to be able to come to us.
I really do sound like a bitch. Totally. I mean, I have that art program that I run at that social service agency. I have all of the other stuff I do at the library and at the shelter for enrichment and I so really and truly support anything that helps not only our women and their children, but that brings some kind of money through the door. That money problem just nibbles and snaps at your heels; you never know when the next money-sucking thing is going to go wrong in that building. We have been reduced to rationing things like coffee and eggs for crying out loud.
I never complain about this stuff, but it drives me insane. So, I will do my best to find a gallery that will stay open late for one night. One turned me down this afternoon, and it was a good friend of mine. Sigh. I will find a gallery that will be willing to donate the time and expense of extra hours and maybe allowing the work to hang for a few weeks. Shit. I am going to be owing a whole bunch of people a whole bunch of favors.
What the heck did I eat today?
I think it was a big salad when I got home this morning. Or, maybe nothing or something else. I simply cannot remember
chunk of liver sausage
snack pack of chunky peanut butter
Not enough. You know, when I am going about having my day, it seems fine, but seeing it on the page here it looks crazy. I can fix this, or just start fibbing lying about eating more. I just want to be as clear in mind and intent and practice as I am about being committed to eating more cleanly, which mean a pretty much permanent farewell to breads, grain, beans and that stuff. Tons and tons of refined carbohydrates made up nearly my entire diet.
I would be so tempted to go back to eating that way, except that I am already feeling better. Aside from the fruit thing, my digestive system seems to be working better. I am less tired and sleepy and have not taken a nap this entire time
Today's saddest story is that I never got to cook the meats I bought on Saturday, because of that unusual schedule and all of the out-of-schedule sleeping I have been doing. I am heartbroken about having to toss that in the trash for pick up tomorrow morning. Plus, that stuff was supposed to create leftovers that I could take for lunch at work tomorrow. I have salad stuff. Maybe there is a can of tuna around.
I had to go look, and I do have a can to toss into the salad, plus a can of artichoke hearts in water, and I am eating a little pack of crunchy peanut butter with a spoon.
This will all work out. It is a new habit to develop, just like everything else. Oooooh, peanut butter via a spoon is gaggy. Ack...hack...hack...erp. Another habit to develop.
What an angsty day, including the fly that snuck into the house this morning. Although, I do have to say that it is nice, very nice, to have ordinary problems. Bitching over. And, out. Snore.