Thoom!

6x6 inch, paper collage

My 62nd birthday was yesterday, a day that passed relatively quietly.  The studio needed straightening up in a big way. I had piles of gallon-sized plastic zip lock bags filled with collage papers piled on my work table and I needed to put them away so I could think.  Some people thrive on clutter, but I am not one.  My focus is too easily distracted by salvaged stacks of butterflies and moths, tissues and Japanese printed papers, 1940's magazine ads.  So at least for a while the table only has stacks of watercolor paper, prepared into my favorite 6x6 inch size, and some old comic books, snipped into separate panels and sorted by dominant color.

Being in my sixties is something that I am trying hard to adjust to. Grandma Tess, who lived to within three months of her 100th birthday, used to make me laugh because she said she felt young inside, not counting her failing eyesight and hearing.  She was interested in fashion and the television news, and resisted joining activities at the local senior center because she didn't want to be around old people.  She didn't identify with old people.   I am beginning to understand her point of view, although part of me has always liked older folks.  My aunt and my dad's cousin are both women in their eighties, and I love visiting with them, admire them, and find them beautiful.  I'm having more trouble thinking of myself in that way, though if I avoid mirrors I can just carry on as if time was not passing.