I get by with a little help from my friends -or- how two Amys amuse each other from afar

Yesterday, I returned home to find this sight at the end of the hall outside our apartment and posted a picture on social media:

I'm guessing husband's new tai chi sword has arrived at the apartment.

My friends are clever, and the usual round of comments followed, the first being from Spedbug (who has been mentioned a couple of times in this blog, and also shares the name "the other Amy" with me).  "Either that or a snake has mailed itself to you. Be very careful"

I couldn't get the image of snake-in-a-box out of my brain. It tumbled into the images from The Little Prince, depicting a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. (For those unfamiliar, here's a link to The Little Prince, boa and hat illustrations.) Every time I looked at the four foot long box, lurking quietly in the corner where it had been since I dragged it inside, I smiled.

The rest of the day tumbled on. Husband arrived, opened box. Sword. No snake, though I looked extra carefully through the packing. 

Usually, I turn electronics off in the evening, muting texts, calls, resisting the lure of the great beyond bound up in the internet, shunning videos and television after a certain hour. But there's an exception to almost every rule, and last night, the phone stayed on, which gave the opportunity to check email once more before turning it off. There, I found an alert for a blog post, which really confused me at first, because though it clearly was from my friend Speddy's blog, it had the name of this one in it. I clicked through.

And then I laughed. Joyous laughter. Javaczuk peered over my shoulder, so that we both were hovered over my iPhone, bathed in the light of its screen. And we laughed. 

It's 9 panels of deliciousness (especially if you're a snake), humor, czuk tidbits, geek humor, and creativity. And she didn't even know about the song I used to sing when I went in our back yard by the lake, to warn the cottonmouths away. But she's right. I'm small, gray, and in some circles, known as Mouse. Click on over to An Unwanted Delivery. You can add a smile to your day.

Edited to add my own drawing of the scene:

Good karma can be yours

Memorial day, my friends Kiley and Jeff came home to find that Percy,  their beautiful Maine Coon cat, had been horribly injured. Kiley tells me that the injury is so severe that the vet can't even determine what exactly caused it: car, coyote, or something else cataclysmic. A signed, special edition of Mooncat is being offered to help offset the medical costs incurred by this family. $20 of each print sold will go directly to help in Percy's care. For more information, visit  Percy's Surgery and Recovery Fund at gofundme.com. To get your very own signed Moon Cat print, visit czukart.com.

I get by with a little help from my friends

I've hurt my arm. The details are unimportant, and yes, it's healing. What is significant (for me, at least) is that it is my right arm, the lead hand in all my artwork. Typing can be done one-handed. No one takes off points for wiggly lines. Autocorrect can actually be helpful in fixing some errors (though it has made some extremely humorous changes a few time, of the sort that could get me on one of those "21 most hilarious autocorrect" lists had I not caught them.) But the kind of artwork I do, on egg or on a flat surface, takes a fairly steady hand. 

Even though the injured area is recovering, I realize there may be a day when recovery only goes so far. For most of my adult life, predating my pysanky writing, I've had compression of the ulnar and medial nerves on the right. Surgery wasn't recommended until I was out of my childbearing years, as the condition can reoccur with the changes of pregnancy. But, by the time I was "in the clear", I'd developed a pulmonary condition and was advised to not have elective surgeries, if at all possible. So I puddle along, hand pain rolling in and fading out. I have exercises I do daily, braces, therapies for exacerbations-- a full regime to call upon. The nerve trauma was flaring up when the injury happened, so this is a double whammy.

I've been thinking that should the time come when I can no longer hold a kistka in my right hand, I should start training the left. In other words, I want to become an ambidextrous pysanky writer. It's ambitious, I know, and there are many folks who can't master the art even with their dominant hand fully functional. But I want to try.

Yesterday, I started my first egg with my left hand. Got a few lines done, then pretty much wept, because I was so far from where I am on the right. I'm like a soprano with too much vibrato. But, I decided to post the picture to a pysanky group I am in. These folks are wonderful. Some, I've known for almost 20 years, and we've migrated to this group. Some I know only a few short months. A couple, I interacted with for the first time yesterday.  Since my post (above), encouragement, sympathy, suggestions, and humor have poured in. 

And that's not all. Some of these marvelous souls are taking up their kistkas, too, in their  non-dominant hand, to try and write a pysanka-- joining me on this weird one-hand-behind-my-back journey. I read that and teared up. I seemed to have gotten a little bit of fellowship in my eye.

Years ago, at a BookCrossing Convention here in Charleston, a friend I only knew from the internet, who'd just flown in from London, looked around the room at all the names she knew from our online group and said, "All my imaginary friends are real!" All mine seem to be real, and those who aren't sharing books with me, seem to be cheering me on as I learn to write again. Friends do indeed take you places you never thought you'd have the courage to go, and if you're very lucky, they travel the journey with you. Thank you incredible eggers of Incredible Eggs and of Instagram.

A tale of two Amys

 It so happened that a wonderful friend of mine (I'm looking at you, Luli) posted a photo of a saying that reminded her of many friends. It managed to combine multiple passions of mine, and was available online as a tee, and on other merchandise. I decided to get a non-shirt option as gifts for like-minded individuals. Time passed, and a package arrived at the mailbox for the czuk household. Tra la! I opened it up, and stared in puzzlement at the item within-- an article of clothing, and a note saying "enjoy your new tee shirt, Amy!"

Huh?

Then I looked at the packing slip. Though the mailing envelope was addressed to me, the packing slip was addressed to another customer, who has the same first name I do. She lives in Delaware, and is decidedly not a czuk. But, what she decidedly is is one of my best friends in the whole world. Honest. For real. We actually know each other. And somehow,here I. South Carolina,  I got her package!

What followed was a flurry of texts between the two Amys, trying to figure out what was going on. In the meantime, the company had figured out they'd mailed a package for one customer to another with the same first name. They wrote me, explaining the error, told me my package was coming, and to keep the merchandise sent in error. 

How could I resist? It seemed made for me!

Thank you Culture Flock! And thanks to my girlfriends for being the greatest (even unintentionally, and from afar)!

Mike

My friend Mike is gone. He would have said, "That's all, folks", but that doesn't jive with my beliefs, so, as I told him when he was alive, "let's agree to disagree." Nonetheless, though he's alive in my heart and memory, there is a Mike-sized hole in my heart. He's one of that handful of people I met online through BookCrossing who I've become genuine friends with, sharing the joys, sorrows, laughter, and concerns of life. We met in person a couple of times, most notably when he came from Wales to Berlin to see us when my health allowed me to travel overseas again. We know each other's families, (though while he has met one of my children, I only know his via internet as well.) It's only been a short time, but I miss his wit, his wisdom, even his overabundance of posts on Facbook. Damn it, Mike! I'm tired of cancer taking people I love.

I am not alone in adjusting to the loss of this big-hearted man.  People around the world are adjusting to his absence; others he met online with whom he developed relationships. A group came together to shower Mike with love (and tidbits and treats to make his journey easier) after he announced his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. We've tried to help console each other, share memories, and of course support his beloved wife and son as they adjust to the new trajectory of their world. Donations to help  fight pancreatic cancer and support research have been made, trees planted in memory, even owls (a bird he admired) adopted in his name. Kiva and Deki have helped many people with loans made in Mike's honor. This is a man who continues to change the world and to to good, though he has popped off. Goodonya, Mike.

Over at BookCrossing, where we met, one of my closest friends and I came together and through our art tried to honor Mike (aka miketroll on some online sites). As many people are doing book releases in his memory, we created a book label in commemoration. The full color version is up in the BookCrossing Supply Store, two owl buddies, remembering Mike. We've also created a black and white version, for more limited budgets, at the grand cost of free, just like BookCrossing books are, when released. Feel free to download and use this label for releases, if you wish.

Art by Amy Francisconi and Amy Romanczuk (aka AFAR) honoring Mike Wiggett 

Mike, I really wish that we didn't need to do this. I'd much rather have you around. But, I truly believe that somewhere your soul is smiling at all the little things done to honor your time on Earth with us. I just wish we'd been allowed more of that precious commodity.

The Art Of: The American South comes to Charleston

Yesterday, I got to tell stories.

I got to laugh.

I got to talk with four people I didn't know before, but am happy to add into my life.

It was a good day.

So what happened? Thanks to a referral from a friend, I was put in touch with four lovely folks who are on a road trip, heading to Art Basel in Miami (lucky stiffs!), gathering stories "about the art and objects southerners keep in their homes."

I won't spill the beans as to what we talked about, but the questions they asked tapped into some lovely memories and emotional recall for me. It refreshed the realization of the part art played in my life from very early in my childhood, and how it has grown and expanded, now opening into a world where I can shyly, but legitimately claim "artist" as part of who I am.

Our home is filled with stories, with art, with love. To be able to share those memories with these four lively, warm, and wonderful minds was an adventure. To send them on to meet others who I find inspiring in generosity of spirit, and world class creativity, was also a joy. And then to have them tumble back here to spend the evening in the czuk home, sipping local beer (or javaczuk's Negronis) just made it plain fun.

So, if you want to follow a visual trip through the south, click on over to The Art Of: The American South . You might even see one small bookczuk, curled up on the sofa, sharing memories. Thank you Bailey, Greg, Josh, and Erin. You're now a part of my story. And when I look at your tumblr, or instagrams, I see the heart of the American South, through the fresh eyes. Y'all come back, anytime.

The world according to Mike

My friend Mike is amazing. I knew that before his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, but since then, I'm upping that amazing a couple of amps. He and Olive, and Ricardo, their son, all have a special place in my heart for allowing those of us who love him to travel this journey with him. (If I have forgotten to say so, thank you.) My own inclination when health problems come up, is to curl up within myself and hide. (The two notable exceptions to this were my mother's battle with breast cancer, where I found myself her spokesperson to keep in touch with what she lovingly called her "fans", and my own experiences with latex allergy and the resultant pulmonary problems, which I've tried to use as a teaching tool to increase awareness about this problem.)

A few friends who have not made the leap from LiveJournal or Dreamwidth to Facebook have written me for news of Mike. Today, yet another friend wrote, and I ran an idea by Mike. I asked, simply, if he would mind my reposting some of his health updates when he makes them on FB. It would be a way to pass the information without taxing his energy, which is a precious commodity these days. I'm posting Mike's response, edited only to remove the name of the latest person to write me. I will do my best to remember to repost, from here on out, but if I forget, nudge me and I'll zip over to his FB wall, brush aside the cricket posts, travel links, Humanism/Atheist or Organized Religion objections, and find the latest update.

And without further adieu, heeeerrrreeee's Mike!

Hi Czukie!

Feel free to forward/repost any of my FB posts! I keep meaning to e-mail (redacted) directly, but I only have her e-mail address on my laptop, not iPad, and to use the laptop I have to trek upstairs. I know that sounds dumb, but sometimes these days my body moves slower than my brain and I am becoming an even worse procrastinator. Anyway, if you speak to (redacted) first, give her my love, also from Olive.

I'm determined to make another LJ post soon. A lot of people ask me how I am. I appreciate their concern but it's burdensome to reply to everyone individually. Basically my health has stayed the same since May, nothing to report. No news is good news! If there is something to say, I'll let people know. Neither I nor my doctors can predict the path of this illness - it may strike suddenly, it may not. I'm not going to waste a second wondering about it. I just want to have fun!

XXX

Mike

Sent from my iPad

But I want to close with a recent post that may go down as one of my most treasured quotes from a treasured friend. It sparked a wonderful dialogue on FaceBook, and maybe it will here, too. (I've blocked out Mike's last name, because I neglected to ask him if I can post it, and this is a public blog. )

Thanks, my friend. Keep on keepin' on.

#mikeshares