I saw this old lady on TV a while back who lived in the mountains. Her hair was long and grey and she wore a pink nightgown. She grasped the rungs of a wooden ladder with her bony fingers to climb on top of her tin roof where she showed off apples she had laid out to dry. (The photo below is not her, but it reminded me of her.)

My dad and I went hiking last weekend in the Smokies near Wears Valley. It had been raining off and on, saturating the color of everything. When we reached the Walker Sisters Cabin, the rain stopped for a brief moment. I walked around in the silence, imagining what it would have been like to live there.

I did some reading about the Walker Sisters later. They refused to give up their home when the government began buying up land in the 1930s to form the National Park. Eventually they gave in in exchange for a lifetime lease so that they could spend the remainder of their days there.

I wonder about their lives, especially in regard to men and love. They were spinsters, but what was the reality of that? Did any of them ever fall in love or want to have children? Did any of them go on hot dates while the others stayed at home? Were they satisfied living a simple life together?

They were known for living traditionally and for possessing good character, so much so, they became a tourist attraction.

Imagine walking through the woods and seeing smoke rising from their chimney.

When I was in Namibia several years ago, I met a woman who raised Arabian Horses on a farm with her husband. She was overwhelmingly hospitable, kind, a woman full of virtue. We talked under an expanse of stars while she grilled meat from their game reserve for my friends and me. We only spent a few hours with her, but I'll never forget her for as long as I live.

I think about these women a lot, strong women living amongst nature because that's what they want. 

I imagine this kind of woman knows her worth outside of a romantic relationship, and if a man ever did come around that was worthwhile enough, she'd be the best lover of him. She would love out of fullness, not necessity.

Life can feel like it's racing by at a speed we can't keep up with, and simultaneously many women struggle with if they're doing enough, adding up enough, accepted enough.

Lately, I try to think about things, like

an old woman in a pink nightgown drying apples on her tin roof.

five sisters writing a letter to the government, refusing to give up their home.

a naturally beautiful woman leading a glossy horse by its reins.

I think about what and whom I've been given a capacity to love. What is right in front of me and am I taking care of it the best that I can?

I was with my family last weekend at my grandfather's lakehouse in Alabama. I've been going there my whole life, and it's where I learned to eat well and ski.

My goal for the past few years is to be able to get up on one ski on the first shot of the summer. I'm usually unable to do it, but this year it happened effortlessly.

BETH MEADOWS Gluttony's Humble Get-Together acrylic on canvas 2011

I know, however, that it wasn't effortless. I've been in preparation for this season over the past few months- seven months to be exact. I've lost almost 25 pounds in that amount of time, and I've been taking care of some aches and pains, in my back, shoulders, and legs, that I've had trouble with over the past few years.

While there seems to be evidence of my hard work physically, there is still more work to be done in the way of self-discipline as I, sometimes agonizingly, count calories, stretch, swim, hike, jog, and bike. I wouldn't say I always do it cheerfully.

***

I'm not sure exactly what brought on the motivation to alter my life last November. I remember being fed up with my shoulder and neck hurting, so I joined the YWCA so that I could swim, to see if it would relieve the pain.

Then I started doing yoga, and after a month or two, I had accidentally lost five or so pounds. After that, losing weight became contagious. I wanted to walk into a room confidently.

***

After graduating from college five years ago, I sort of let myself go, as they say. Mentally, I was a wreck, but I was also on the mend. I knew I had a lot of healing to do, so I decided the remedy was to live my life "organically", to go with the flow, to do what I wanted, in big and small ways. For me, there was freedom in finally listening to myself, but it was also horribly confusing, not only to myself but to those around me. The problem was I wasn't quite sure what I wanted yet, especially on things that really mattered, when other people were involved.

At the same time, I was relishing in life, going out, eating and drinking with little to no limit. I have no idea how I made it work financially, but somehow I was able to keep paying my rent. I was fatter and happier than ever.

***

I was in a not great relationship at the beginning of this year. It's not that we didn't enjoy each other, we really did, but we weren't on the same page about a lot of things, and you know how that ends up.

It was hard to let go of him, but at the same time, I, rather sadly, realized how much I loved him, more than anyone I've been with in a long time, while also realizing how little he wanted to understand me or listen to what I thought. I was falling for someone who wasn't being the man I needed him to be.

I'm still not quite sure what he wanted with me, someone who thinks about every detail of everything, when he didn't want to think about much at all, but I've always tended to be a magnet to men like him.

I walked away from that disaster, and at the same time, felt like I was walking away from every other relationship I've had over the past ten years. I've liked every person I've ever dated for different reasons- how much they made me laugh, how smart they were, how dorky they were about their interests. My affections can run so strong for only an aspect of a man, so much so that I tend to overlook the qualities I could never live with.

***

It's odd to realize you've never fully loved someone, but I guess it's for the best.

***

I hate it when single girls in their twenties say that they'll probably never get married. (I've said it before, so I can say just how much I hate it.) I won't say it again, but I do know I'm in transition- a stripping away of the foolish girl I've been in the past. I've had to tear my heart out for so many men, to help myself let go of them. Sometimes I wonder how I still have hope, but I do. I don't think a heart can lose it's ability to love.

I'm trying to will myself to turn away from my natural inclinations and look toward something... brighter.

***

It is my desire to be more sensible these days; I have to be able to counter my heart that is always so full. I'm working on self-control, because, quite frankly, living organically has turned out to be a bunch of crap. It left me wreckless, fat, and poor.

Strong relationships, friendships, and bodies don't happen naturally. All of life goes against it. The more adamant I am about eating right, the more friends and co-workers give me free drinks and food. It's a proven fact!

I have to run and I have to eat less than what I used to if I want pounds to shed. While I often (stupidly) daydream of wearing smaller clothes that fall better on a less rotund body and to have men fall for me left and right as a result, I'd like to hope my motivations run deeper.

Though I run the risk of being self-absorbed in my fitness endeavors, I hope that at some point it will mean thinking about myself less.

It's worth a shot.

I should clear something up.

A few weeks ago I mentioned a boy and since then have been asked several times about my "relationship."

I failed to mention at the time, but that boy was all ready fading from the scene when I wrote about him. I'm sorry to say, it was not meant to be.

But I knew that from the beginning.

It's easy to feel like a novelty being single in the South in your late twenties. A lot of friends I know dated one, maybe two people, and then got married. This has not been my experience.

I've been put through the wringer relationally speaking, more times than anyone should be allowed, but I realized not too long ago that it's my own damn fault because I've been giving the same type of guy** a chance for years. In the past, I was shocked when those relationships didn't work out, but now I know- I have a bad habit that I need to kick.

 Still, I am ever hopeful, not to meet the love of my life necessarily, but to be content with where I am presently, to quit reaching for things I want but aren't good for me. We're all a work in progress, you know.

So as I dust myself off from another pseudo-relationship, I aim to be a more sensible human being, and what I mean is, I'd like to begin giving nice guys a fighting chance. I'd also like to run from the bad ones. They are tricky (and I like them), so this will be difficult.

What will this look like? I imagine a future scenario, some guy with trouble written all over him approaching me on a lovely Friday evening. Me covering my eyes and yelling, "Noooo!" then bolting for the door.

If flirting is the gateway drug, this might have to be my new protocol. Don't even flirt with flirting.

It might seem extreme, but this is how I handle other bad habits. For example, I hate wasting time on Facebook, but I'm addicted to it. The solution? I don't have internet at home or a smart phone. I wish I was stronger than that, but it's the only way I've found to gain strength over something I know has an unhealthy hold on my life. Flee the scene.

***

By the way, like I always assure my mother, if I should ever meet the right person, no one will have to pry the news out of me.

It shall be proclaimethed from the rooftops.


*I wish Goldfish rhymed with single because I don't even like Pringles.
** the wrong one

The arrival and departure of Valentine's Day has gotten me thinking about love which in turn has inspired me to begin a series on the subject that I will call Single and Ready to Eat Pringles*.

God forbid it ever happen, but if you were to climb into my brain for a day, you'd find that love is a popular subject there- falling in love, love lost, heartache, being single (in the South), the dating scene (in Knoxville... yikes.), being mildly boy crazy, falling for crazy boys, wondering if I'm supposed to say "men" instead of "boys" because they are men now, aren't they? That's a good question.

In my daydreams, I imagine being a legitimate writer on the subject. I have a lot of material, lots to laugh about, lots of experience in heartache, lots of wisdom gained. It's all too personal though and, despite the rising level of ridiculousness on social media sites, I think most of what happens between two people that love one another should be kept secret, sacred.

Then again, if and when I meet the man of my dreams, it might be fun to try and make someone want to throw up a little when they read my Facebook statuses. At least for a day or two!

Anyway, I don't know where this is heading, but I'd like to begin with some love-themed comics because, you know, I like comics. 

A different kind of love. Awww.

*I really did come up with this title one day on my own, but a Google search proved I'm not the only one with a witty (/dumb) sense of humor.

Facebook has me all flummoxed again. Bear with me as I delve into the matter, and try not to let these thoughts infer how I must feel about you.

***

Lately, I've felt the need to "de-friend" certain people that I've been close to at certain points in my life but are no longer. It's only a handful of people, but it still means something to me.

The nature of my friendships and relationships are changing. Boys I was once very close friends with are now married. Girls I used to see multiple times a week have boyfriends or husbands and have dropped off the face of the earth. Couples are having babies, old boyfriends have girlfriends (or boyfriends), and many single people I know go out a lot while I'm beginning to stay in more and more.

My point is not to expound on how all of this makes me feel but to express that times are changing, and it makes me think about the natural ebb and flow of friendships and relationships, and how a thing like Facebook counters that. In reality, people move in and out of our lives at different times, and this is healthy. It's strange, however, that now when someone moves out of our real lives, we are able to read on Facebook what they ate for lunch or see pictures of their wedding to which we weren't invited.

If we could, I'm sure we'd remain friends with everyone we'd ever been friends with or dated in the past, but life doesn't offer that. Even as we accept this natural, sometimes difficult,  progression of real life relationships, Facebook throws us a curve ball.

It may just be me, but it doesn't seem right that someone who won't return my phone calls would write on my Wall to tell me: I've been stalking your photos. Looks like you're doing great!, Let's hang out soon!!, or I miss you!!!

It also feels unhealthy to have the ability to see my ex-boyfriends' engagement, wedding, and/or baby photos.

With most people, the superficiality of a Facebook friendship doesn't bother me, and there are different reasons for this that I won't explain now. Concerning a handful of others, however, it's become problematic. I find myself looking at their photos, scrolling through their wall, and a sadness and sense of loss overwhelms me, even if only for a few minutes.

I've gotten to the point that as soon as this behavior begins, I remove these people from my Facebook friends. While it feels like a necessary and healthy thing to do, it also makes me feel... silly. When someone fades from my real life for reasons out of my control, I have to make the conscious effort to remove them virtually as well?

I worry these people will see that I've de-friended them and conclude I dislike them, but reality is the opposite. To "de-friend" is a weird way of saying, "I liked/like/loved/love you too much to merely be your Facebook friend."

Timidity Enters the Maze
acrylic, varnish, and glitter on canvas
28" x 22"
2008

In honor of the fact that I just mailed this painting off to Denver, CO, I thought I'd write about it today. It was made in 2008, close to when I graduated from college.

The idea for this painting had been in the works for quite some time.

Over the years leading up to the it, I became obsessed with this night time scene on a journal that someone gave me years before (it's the second image when you follow the link.) I loved it, but art school pushed me to make a different type of artwork, so it wasn't until after college that I gave it a try.

I was listening to a lot of Smashing Pumpkins back then, too. The image on the journal and their music put me in a similar mood- melancholy, pensive.

The maze in the image also made me think of the scene in The Sound of Music, when Maria dances with the Captain out in the garden. It's long been one of my most favorite cinematic scenes, and it is most directly tied to the composition of the painting.

So in 2008, all of these things came together at a time when I was very worried about where my life was heading- career-wise, in my friendships, relationships, mentally, spiritually. So I made this painting as a reminder to move forward into the unknown, in spite of my timidity.

***

If you like this painting, I have prints of it, and they are for sale here. Let me know if you'd like another size, and I can make it happen. Don't be timid.

I love my cat Juicy, but she is a scoundrel.

Every morning, sometime between 4 and 7am, she begins meowing. It doesn't matter if she's in my bed or locked out of my room, she's up before the sun and wants me to be, too.

Feeding her shuts her up temporarily, but what she really wants is for me to start my day. So whether she's sitting outside of my door or next to my face, she meows every twenty minutes until I get up. I think she knows I need every hour of the day to accomplish what I want to accomplish.

"Get up!" I hear with every meow. "Live life! Work hard! Bring home the bacon! Literally!"

Once I finally put my feet on the floor for good, she follows me around, meowing for about twenty minutes. Then, THEN, she has the AUDACITY to jump on my bed and go straight to sleep. Each day, on my way out the door to work, I leave behind my slumbering jerk of a cat. 

If she wasn't so adorable, I'd send her to a farm where she could better fulfill her calling.

I'm suing Fancy Feast for stealing my diary and making a commercial about my hopes and dreams.