Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes

Healing Sand and Waves and Love

February 15th, 2016
               My eyes ache and spots appear as I peer out the window at the bright morning. It’s Monday February 15^th, 2016. It’s 7:35AM but the house is still quiet, babies still sleeping. They will be up soon and I don’t have much time to write. The weekend was fantastic, I had special moments bonding with my whole family, each person so different than the other. Each relationship unique. On Saturday we went to South Beach in Point Reyes. It was a beautiful day, the air still filled with winter, but the sun brought warmth to our faces and the sand we sat on. Jack and Fiona running their hands through the sand watching the tiny little pebbles fall back to the earth. The waves so close drops of sea water touches my mouth and I taste the salt from the ocean. People walk by us, friends and lovers, holding hands and kissing. Happily waving Hello. Jack climbs up on driftwood or sits and contemplates life. Alan buries Fiona in the sand and she laughs. The light is amazing. “want to go for a walk?” Alan asks. “Sure, I’ll catch up” I need to sit here for a few more minutes, write a little longer, savor the moment. Watch the log that just washed up on the shore, watch as the ocean claims it back. So big and so deep. I want to see a whale or a sea lion or pelicans but it’s not that time of the year. I am paralyzed by the tranquility in this day, the love, the fun, the wine. As we walk back to our car I tell people “Happy Valentine’s Day” even though it’s one day early.

               The next day the babies are really tired! We took a walk in the stroller and they fell asleep, it’s been months since they fell asleep on a stroller walk. It was so sweet, they looked so peaceful. My husband and I didn’t give each other flowers or cards or gifts this year. We just hung out and enjoyed each other’s company. It was one of our best Valentines days ever. We went out to dinner and ate too much and ate huge desserts! But it was fun. I realized yesterday, something so obvious, but everything we do really is a choice. I don’t think we can skip over the hard parts of life, the depressing parts, sad parts, overthinking parts, but we can learn from everything we go through and choose to live how we want. I don’t think we are helpless, ever. Times may seem like that, but they always pass. That’s my words of wisdom for the day!

               It’s time to go now, I hear babies starting to wake up now. Time to make breakfast for Jack and Fiona.
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A Day in Mill Valley, getting ready for Room show!

February 13th, 2016
6:40 AM Saturday morning. House quiet. Kettle boiling. Click. I step away to prepare my coffee. It is so good this morning. So good. The sky is overcast with fog covering the highest part of the hillside. I wonder how long I have? To write? Before everyone wakes up? I hope Jack and Fiona sleep in, they were up until ten last night! I made the mistake of giving them a piece of chocolate after dinner. I read books, gave them a bath, put on their pajamas, and realized they were not ready to sleep. I left the nursery light on low and let them play, I figured they would just conk out eventually. Alan and I put on the last section of War and Peace. I could hear Jack and Fiona downstairs laughing, things thumping, probably jumping on the bed. We finish our show and Alan puts on an episode of Saturday Night Live he recorded, Larry David is playing Bernie Sanders. We hear Jack wail, “will you go check on the babies?” I ask Alan. He goes down, everything’s fine, but he forgets to lock the door. We’re watching SNL and I hear laughing and “Mama”. “Did you forget to lock the door?” Alan gets up to take them back downstairs, but Jack cries and it’s already 9:30. “Just let them come up” I say. I figure we’ll just take them down when we go to bed. They finish watching SNL with us, Jack laughs at a few scenes, Fiona plays with my water bottle, gets her PJ’s wet. It’s surreal, I was just telling Alan how I would sneak into my mom’s room when I was a little girl and lay at the foot of her bed while her and Bruce were watching Mash. Then I would get caught and sent back to bed! It’s such a trip how we morph into little people.

Our group GAP show is coming up soon! I took my four solo pieces and one colab to the frame shop yesterday, and Carl has a bunch of frames that we’ll use for several of the GAP colabs. It’s really exciting, the show at Room Gallery is going to look spectacular. I really wanted to bring Jack and Fiona to the Gallery before opening night. I wanted them to meet Agne and Kelsey, and the Gallery dogs, and to see the John Torrey show before it comes down. I had a home visit with Linda in the morning, she taught me how to sign birthday related words. When she left it was already 10:30, normally a studio day, a “Me” day, but I really wanted to do the gallery thing, and with Lindsay it is possible. “Let’s just go!” I decide this is the best policy. For the past two years my attendance at art shows has been very low to none at all. Before the babies were born I would always check out new shows at galleries in the city, Berkeley, and Oakland. I missed a bunch of openings I wanted to attend. A few months ago we ventured out to Redwood City to see Carl’s show at Unleashed Gallery. The babies did so well, I have been wanting to bring them to see more shows. John Torrey’s work is bright and painterly. We walk into Room Gallery and the first thing Jack notices is the doggies. I let the babies be babies before I carry each one around to look at the show. He points to the Paper Mache sculptures. They are heads made of newspaper and other bits. The first time I saw John Torrey’s sculptures was at the Marin County Art fair, so long ago. I loved them at first sight. The babies responded to them like I did.

I connect with Torreys work, he’s a portrait guy, as I am obsessed with painting faces.

In this show he has some large abstract paintings as well, work I’ve never seen before. They are beautiful, the pallettes are quite different than his other work.

I talk with Agne about our show, set-up, and she wants Carl and I to give a talk. Then we head down the street to check out Material Matters at the Seager Gray Gallery. The babies are getting hungry so I don’t have much time left. We walk in and the new space the Gallery is in is beautiful, the light shines in and the art looks amazing. I walk through quickly, holding Fiona, Lindsay holds Jack. I stop first by the Jane Rosen painting, Change of Tune, and her Bronze Hoof sculpture.


Fiona and Jack are drawn to the sculpture. I like both, I have been a Jane Rosen fan for a long time.

The Donna Seager Gallery used to be in San Rafael and I would visit on a very regular basis. I’ve always enjoyed her artists. There are two Tim Tate pieces, video art inside interesting frames.

Lisa Kokin has work in the show, we all enjoyed viewing her work very much. The babies were fully engaged in her piece “Errata” It’s thread on canvas, it looks like hair, maybe it was hair, I need to check! But it reminded me of written word, cursive writing.


Squeak Carnwath has some paintings in the show. I particularly like the one titled “Mars”


I needed more time to look at this show but Jack and Fiona started signing Eat, and saying it too so we had to go! We went to an amazing Vietnamese Street Food Restaurant Boo Koo.


It was so good and very kid friendly. The babies loved the edamame and the pot stickers the most! They were really well behaved, except for playing with their water glasses. The restaurant is noisy and bustling, the seating multi-level, lots of visual stimulation. The kitchen exposed, we could here food cooking. We sat by the front door so we could see people coming and going. I used to always sit in a far corner with Jack and Fiona, I thought it would be better, so we wouldn’t bother people, but I’ve learned they do better where all the action is. They sit longer and I can eat my food!

I can hear the babies starting to wake now. Time to go and start the day. What should we do today? It’s Saturday! The weekend.
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Two Doves in the Pepper Tree

February 11th, 2016
“Look, a dove” I say to Jack, holding him in my arms, turning to watch as the dove flies into the pepper tree. I notice a second dove already in the pepper tree. “Doves stay with one partner; it looks like the other dove is making a nest, collecting sticks, leaves and other things. They are going to have baby birds. First they will lay eggs and sit on them until the little baby bird pecks at the egg and it cracks open. Then the mommy bird will go get a worm and feed the baby bird.” I show the sign for bird, I have one beak going inside another beak. Jack wants to hear the story again. He asks me several times during the day and last night at bedtime. Fiona was already in the car so she didn’t hear the first version of my story. I still feel bad about that right now as I sit here and type this. I don’t feel like Fiona and I share as many moments in story. We share many moments where she wants to just be held and cuddle, which I don’t get with Jack, he always has to be moving. It could be a personality thing, but I always wonder if it has to do with her hearing loss. I wonder about the connection between language and imagination. I wonder should I be doing more alone time with Fiona. I find myself directing questions and statements to Jack. “Look Jack, there’s a dump truck” as we drive. Fiona doesn’t usually have her hearing aids on in the car, I know she can’t understand me, but Jack can. Mmmmmm. These are things I think about.

I am distracted now by the sky this morning, it’s fire red over the horizon line, the valley dark, with silhouettes of still bare trees. But if I was up close I may see a few tiny green leaves or flower buds on the California Red Bud. Spring is upon us. Last night, I made it out the door, out of my studio, just in time to take Billy for a hike up the trail before dark. The light on the trail was muted, but I could still see the blue bottles, Blue Bells, and Beardtongues. I had a strange day in the studio. It’s been strange for weeks now. I have the figure curse upon me. I am obsessed, but my ideas are murky. It looks like this happens to me every year around this time. Is it the transition from winter to spring? Is it about birth? Death? They say your body never forgets traumatic events. Christopher was born in February. This time, 1987, I was almost sixteen years old, nine months pregnant and no one knew but me. My stomach hard and big, I would walk my dog Rutger for hours, down a trail at the bottom of a hill, along pepper trees, crying. When my mom got home from work, Danny and I would make spaghetti, I remember that plate piled high, I couldn’t believe how much I ate. But my legs were still skinny, everything was still skinny but my stomach and I figured out how to hide it well with big baggy t-shirts and sweaters, and tying sweatshirts around my waist. Habits dressing I carried with me for most of my life. It transitioned into hiding my boobs because they were big and I hated the way guys were always staring at them. Jack and Fiona were both born in February. I thought they were going to die; I was so scared. Even after they were delivered I couldn’t believe they were going to survive. How? I wondered. They were so small. And I only had experience of dead babies, not ones that survive, that live and thrive. In two weeks Jack and Fiona will be two years old. They are such good babies. I could never have imagined this happening to me.

Next month, in March I was born Forty-Five years ago. My birth was traumatic, I almost died. I was very sick my mom told me. I was born with a kidney infection, I had to have an operation and was in the hospital for a while. She didn’t tell me this for most of my life, then one day it came up. What she did tell me was I was born with a third kidney. It doesn’t work, it’s not fully formed. But it’s in there. When I had my appendectomy I told the surgeon just before I went under, I was afraid they would open me up and my insides would look odd, I was afraid they might take out the wrong organ. February, scattered with hot days, birds and blossoms. Memories of loss and trauma mix with memories of birth and life, new beginnings. The smell of the wet ground and fermentation, slimy mushrooms popping up. Spring.

Now the sky is slate grey. It’s 7:19 AM, babies still quiet. I’m on my second cup of coffee, this morning it’s just as good as my first cup. It’s time to start getting ready for the day, making breakfast for the babies, making lunches. As I looked at the date, 2/11/16, I was just reminded of Valentine’s Day, another February, sometimes traumatic, event. But I’ve decided that from now on holidays are going to be just for fun, I’m not going to get all deep about how Valentines days puts too much pressure on couples. How it alienates people, or makes people feel sad. Or how it’s another commercialized holiday just to get people to buy stuff. No, I’m going to have fun on valentine’s day, maybe I’ll make valentine’s day cookies for the babies and my husband. Maybe me and the babies will make Valentine day cards. If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my forty fourth year of life, it’s that life’s way too short to think too deeply and too politically about every single holiday. I’ve decided from now on holidays are holidays, nothing more.
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