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Hello, All,

I'm still painting, illustrating & writing.

I've started a new writing service. I write blogs, articles, social media and website copy for overwhelmed business people.

I also have a new blog where I focus on only good news.

Please, visit: www.TracieSeedArt.com  and Join: www.GoodNewsRhody.com

FOLLOW ME:

on Twitter: @tracieseedart and @goodnewsrhody

and Facebook: www.facebook.com/tracieseedart and www.facebook.com/goodnewsrhody

All is Well and Good,
Tracie

Lion of Judah

Lion of Judah
12" x 12"
Acrylic on Aquaboard
Commission
NFS

I was thrilled when I was asked to paint a portrait of a lion: a nice break from farm animals and pets.  I adore painting all types of animals, but this one offered a special challenge: how to paint a lion strong yet welcoming?  In history, literature and life, a lion has been a symbol of strength, leadership, loyalty, royalty and honor.  In the Bible, The Lion Of Judah is a symbol of Jesus Christ:   "Jesus is commonly referred to as the 'overcoming one' and 'the one qualified to open the scrolls and seven seals.'  According to the Book of Revelation 5:5,  Jesus was the 'sacrificial Lamb' and the 'Lion of Judah.'  The prophecy of the coming of the Lord to 'judge the world' as the Lion of Judah is clear all through Revelation 5: 1-5." (http://www.buzzle.com/articles/what-does-the-lion-of-judah-represent.html).   The only time I remember a lion referred to as "cowardly" was in The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum.  Even then, in the end, the Cowardly Lion discovers he has had courage the whole time--he just wasn't giving himself credit for it.  In yoga, the lion pose (Simhasana) is one in which, if done properly, shows no shame.  In essence, you take a strong kneeling pose, widen your eyes,  open your jaw as far as possible, stretch your tongue out and down, and, finally, roar as loud as possible.  In nature, a lion is able to spot danger and head it straight on full force.  A lion teaches us that when we are faced with insurmountable struggles,  we need to find our inner lion, roar and face our challenges despite our fears.  Now that takes courage!

Puppy Love

If you are a dog lover, you know what it is like to have one of these sweet creatures as a member of your family.  I've grown up with dogs and can remember each and every one of their names, faces and loving licks by heart. There is a quote by Anatole France that hits home every time I see a tale wag:  "Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened."

Here are some recent pet portraits I've created for clients.  When presented to the customer, each one met their painting with either a smile, a tear, a laugh or even all three!  Hopefully these images will help you remember a loved pet in your life.
www.TracieSeedArt.com

Valentine Gift for Animal Lover

Need a perfect Valentine gift for a loved one who loves animals?  Tracie Seed Art is now specializing in Personal Pet Portraits.  There are an arrangement of sizes and prices to meet all budgets. Cats, dogs, bunnies:  you name it!  I also paint farm animals for your fellow cow, sheep, pig, and chicken lovers. Order soon for timely delivery! www.TracieSeedArt.com 

Here is my new painting.  It is called ‎"Web Browser" in honor of one of my favorite stories Charlotte's Web by E.B. White.  It is 6" x 6" acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas. Contact me for price.

http://www.TracieSeedArt.com/6-x-6-animal-paintings.html

Save Money to Earn Money: A Sense for Savings

I've started a new blog on how to save money to earn money.  As Benjamin Franklin says, "A penny saved is a penny earned."  Check it out and sign up for email updates.  I will shared tips I've used to save money during this recession.  I have a huge list that keeps growing every week!  Sensible savings is becoming a huge part of our family's budget management.  Hopefully it can help you, too.   It is called Sense for Savings.  For the first entry, A Penny Earned, visit here: http://senseforsavings.blogspot.com/2012/09/a-penny-earned.html

I'll Have a Chardon-hay

"I'll Have a Chardon-hay"

After painting a purple cow and then a blue cow, I ran across a photograph of this gorgeous blonde cow with the most interesting crooked horns.  I love the beauty of the unsymmetrical twists and sizes.   I was also drawn to the color.  It was a yummy caramel mixed in with a good dose of a color which reminded me of chardonnay--a nice, generous pour on a sunny day is always welcome.  

When I started this piece, my daughter asked me why I keep painting cows.  I'm wasn't sure other than the fact that I sold the blue cow and the purple cow is hanging in my kitchen. (My husband won't let me sell the purple cow!)  A few days later, I was writing my artist biography.  I am trying to find a sells rep for my giclee prints, so I am working on a packet of information.  Any way, I found myself, as many people do, starting with my roots.  Here is what I wrote:

"Tracie is a Texas artist who lives in Rhode Island.  She is a Seventh Generation Texan!  She primarily grew up in Lubbock, TX, located in the Texas panhandle.  Springtime was abundant with sand storms with skies hued by the native red dirt.  And, yes, there were tumbleweeds in the streets--at least my street, because we lived near a large open field.  Oil pump jacks lined the highways.  One of her major sensory memories of Lubbock is the stockyard aroma on hot days when the winds of the plains would swoosh it into the city.  Not the most pleasant smell, but definitely a memorable one!"

I guess that rich aroma of those West Texas stockyards had more impact on me than I realized.  The cow represents home to me. Skies that glide along forever.  Dust devils dancing in the fields. Soul shaking thunderstorms with lightening to rival any fireworks display. Cicadas' songs on a summer night. Red clay dusting my boots. (Yes, I even wore boots.  Pink ones, in fact.)

I know it is an overused cliche, but it rings true for my cows:  "You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the girl." Which is probably why my daughter calls me a "Yee-haw Momma."

"Cock-a-Doodle-Dude"

Here is the finished painting of the rooster!  His name is "Cock-a-Doodle-Dude."  I love the way he turned out.  He looks like he has his eye on some pretty thing in the henhouse.  He is definitely a proud dude. He is available at my website www.tracieseedart.com. 

Cock-a-Doodle-Dude

Available Soon at
www.TracieSeedArt.com

Trying to be cryptic and cool, I recently posted this picture on Facebook and asked my friends, "Who am I? What am I?"  Within minutes came a comment: "Little Red Rooster!"  Foiled, again!

It hadn't occurred to me at the time of my enigmatic status update that there aren't many animals with the color red around their eyes.  In fact, I can only think of two:  a cardinal and a rooster.

It is widely known that a rooster has long been a symbol of good luck. Which is why many people, plop one down somewhere in the kitchen as a chotsky, wall decor, or some other form.  The kitchen is the hearth of the home, and, perhaps, the luck radiates from there throughout the family.  I come from a long line of rooster huggers.  My great-grand-mother had a rooster and hen set that now I have nesting in a window.  If memory serves me, my grandmother had a matching set sitting loving looking at the salt and pepper shakers on her table.  My mother has roosters all over the kitchen, including a three foot one who sits proudly on her kitchen table.

Throughout history, the rooster has had many meanings for different cultures. (http://www.whats-your-sign.com/symbol-meanings-of-the-rooster.htm) The ancient Greeks believed that the brave and confident crow was a symbol of conquering the night: victory over opposition.  In Christianity, the rooster has morphed into a way to protect against evil; hence, weathervanes sporting roosters are believed to provide the same protection. If you see a rooster in your dreams, it is time to be honest with yourself and show others your true colors.
                           
I was born under the rooster in the Chinese zodiac calendar: specifically the Wood Rooster (go ahead a Google it to see how old I am if you're that curious!).  Oh, here, I'll make it easy on you: (http://www.chinesezodiac.com/rooster.php). People born under the rooster are believed to have many different traits ranging from not-so-attractive ones to OK-I'll-take-that ones.  My pride (a rooster trait) encourages me to share only some of the more positive attributes:  a rooster is honest, trustworthy, loyal, organized, motivated and detail oriented.  I'll take that.

Crunch Time

We had a party to attend last night.  I was excited about it, because it has been ages since I have gotten to dress up.  I've become so relaxed in my daily appearance that my children get concerned and confused if I have on even the smallest amount of makeup: "Why do you have on makeup? Where are we going?  What do we have to do?"  So, last night I put their heads in a spin with a full makeover: complete with a glossy, straight waterfall of hair down my back.

Ka-Boom! That is when the downpour came!  Buckets of rain.  I looked at my satin dress, my flowing hair and my heels.  Hmm.  I cursed Mother Nature a bit and then started pulling out my trench coat, cheetah rain boots and green polka dot umbrella.  My heels would have to wait a little longer for the party.

We planned to attend an event before going:  it was an art show at Gilbert Stuart Museum. (www.gilbertstuartmuseum.com)  I had put a few paintings in it, since I am starting my journey into the RI art scene on my tippy toes.  I had a split second thought of not going, dreading sloshing through the puddles and huddling under shelter.  But since this was one of my first show participations, I really wanted to be there to see my work on the walls.

So I geared up, grabbed my heels, sloshed to the car and my husband and I went:  me dressed in my beautiful floral satin cocktail dress and cheetah rain boots. Not quite the ensemble I envisioned, but I had no choice, really.  

I loved seeing all the different art:  there were so many different styles and I truly appreciated the beauty in all of them.  Of course, I also loved seeing my paintings among them.  At almost the same time, my husband and I saw a red sticker on my apple painting called "Crunch Time."  Ever the pessimist, my first thought was that surely there was something wrong:  they must've put that on the wrong painting.  I could not have sold a painting on the first night!  I was so nervous and befuddled that my husband double checked to make sure for me that I had, in fact, sold a painting!

I got to meet the woman who bought it.  She told me that when she saw it, it spoke to her immediately and she bought it on the spot.  She talked with me of its delicious color and the lusciousness of the apples. Her deep appreciation for my work left me awestruck and hovering somewhere between Wonderland and Heaven.

The sun came out, so I didn't have to make a mad dash for the car and I could slip out of my trench coat.  In the car, on the way to the party, I switched my shoes and checked myself in the mirror.  There with my humidity ravaged body: frizzy hair, swollen feet and a rain spotted dress, I felt more beautiful than ever knowing that something I created made someone else so happy.  The woman who purchased my painting  gave me more than just a payment.  She presented me a gift of encouragement and a little shot of self confidence, both of which are much more glorious than pencil straight hair. 

www.TracieSeedArt.com

Peep the Sheep

"Peep" 6" x 6" acrylic painting by Tracie Seed
www.TracieSeedArt.com

One of my favorite nursery rhymes as a child was, and still is, "Little Bo Peep."  I had a big book of Mother Goose nursery rhymes.  The cover was black and white checked and had a beautiful illustration of Mother Goose flying, well, on her goose.  My mother read me the book so many times that I had all the rhymes memorized and we would say them together over and over and over.  This one came to mind as I was painting "Peep":

"Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,/And doesn't know where to find them./Leave them alone and they'll come home,/Wagging their tails behind them."

The origins of the poem are debatable, but some believe it was written in the early 1800's.
Picture the quintessential costume of the meringue skirt, large, ruffled bonnet and big shepherd's hook, complete with a huge satin bow is some pastel hue.  This  6" x 6" painting of a little sheep is a nod to that poem.  Look at that mischievous face!  Where has that sheep been?

The rhyme now reminds me of my own children (although not lost) running around in the neighborhood, playing with their friends as I did as a child.  Eventually, they come back home. Sometimes with their tails wagging--like when my son went swimming with his cell phone in his pocket!  But, mostly they come home bleating,"Mom!  What's for dinner?"

I am lucky to live in one of those 1960s neighborhoods where you actually know your neighbors and kids can stay out until dark. So even when I am not around to herd my children through their days, I know that there are good shepherds watching after them.  Now, if I could just get my hands on one of those hooks!

King of the Sketch

I was recently with a 13 year old girl whom I love very much and admire tremendously.   She is shrouded in privacy, so I can't reveal who she is to me.  But I can say that she is an amazing artist who gets better by the minute, because she literally draws every second she possibly can.  I've seen her even use a scrap piece of paper and the bottom of her shoe as a drafting table.  Whenever something is in her head, she just has to get it out.  I wish I could show you one of her drawings, but she is extremely protective with them and only lets a lucky few see them.  I am one of the lucky ones who are blessed and inspired by her tenacious drawing produces.
On a recent trip home, I found myself with a ton of time to on my hands.  I watched her no-stop sketching and decided to pick up a pencil and pad myself.  I haven't sketched in several years, even though I have been painting.  It was so relaxing to watch the pencil move quickly but cautiously across the page.  Scribble here. Line there.  Should this be darker?  Does that look weird?  His nose is too long.  The shadow is wrong.  It was a process that took me right into the present.
I don't necessarily think this lion sketch is the greatest.  But it does represent a moment in time where I let loose for an hour and just let the lead flow.  I have found myself sketching a bit more---mostly basic apples, spheres, bowls of eggs--mainly to study the importance of lights and darks to apply to my painting.  You can't feel the depth of a pig's eye socket or the meaty nose of a cow without the highlights and the shadows.
I guess there is something to that theory in life: putting together our bright times and dark times to create a whole, solid life that looks like you could actually touch it.  Enjoy your moment: now.  www.TracieSeedArt.com

Chin Up!

I'm really swimming through a sea of confusion (sorry for the cliche) called "The Art World."  Like anything, I guess, I just have to do what I do and hope that someone likes it.  Or, better yet, buys it!  I'm reaching for the ultimate dream of loving what I do and doing what I love.  I know I am just going to have to figure things out on my own.  I really wish my Fairy Art Mother would swish in and tell me what to do next.  Will a cow painting sell faster than a pig?  Should I do another rooster?  Where do I sell my prints? How do I sell my prints?  How am I going to sell any of these?

I have a stack of canvases and a checklist of ideas in my head for paintings I want to create.  As a wife and mother, time is precious.  Although, I must admit, since deciding to try this venture (my family made me do it!), my family is more understanding about giving me a bit more time to paint.  Both my kids are creative and my husband is literally my biggest fan.  He wants me to sell my paintings, but doesn't want me to sell any I paint!  He ends up loving them so much, that he wants to keep them.  I understand, but a little wish of mine is for one of my paintings to hang someplace other than on my walls or in my extended family's home.  Don't get me wrong, I feel blessed by the support I get for my creativity from my family!  Just starting to put paintings in small area shows is a really thrilling for me--knowing other people are seeing them and probably smiling, because how could you not smile at a pig?

Today I was able to squeeze out some time for myself.  I decided it was a good day to try a painting on a 6" x 6" canvas.  I've always wanted to try a smaller size, but just haven't done it.  Here is the little piggy who showed up on my canvas.  The title is "Chin Up!"  Which is just what I need to do:  keep my chin up and keep doing what I'm doing until it is done!

Please visit my website at www.TracieSeedArt.com.

My New Painting Adventure

I Prefer Redheads
12" x 12"
www.TracieSeedArt.com
Reproductions Available 

I'm so excited about tonight.  Our beach club hosts a member's art show every two years.  Both my children are presenting two pieces from their portfolios.  My daughter, age 10, has two paintings and my son, age 13, has two pencil drawings.  I am so proud of both of them!

I've grown so much as an artist over the past two years.  I am curious and a bit trepidatious about how my paintings will be received this time.  I'm so self deprecating sometimes and just think people are being nice when they express how much they like my paintings.  My husband always says, "Well, they could be nice but they could also really like your paintings!"  My confidence has grown as an artist, but I still have a bit to go.

I'm also unveiling my Fine Art Reproductions of two of my four paintings. My pig (To Oink or Not to Oink?) and Rooster (I prefer Redheads) will be shown tonight. I also offer the reproductions of my cow (Bloo Moo) and sheep (Three Bags Full). I have three standard sizes for each print, so they can be easily framed. 


We will see what happens.  One step at a time, right?


I have a new website:  www.TracieSeedArt.com.  Please check it out to view more of my paintings.

Dear John Letter to 60 Abigail Street

Farewell Abigail,

with your sweet

and sour memories tucked

up in corners and behind eyes

shut tight.

Facades emblazoned

with words of truth

and comfort.

Wildfires rage

in angry desolation.

With pretty little flames

licking the stars.

Bright.

Goodbye, Abigail,

good girl with

arms wide shut.

Embracing all that is true

and distrusted.

I lock you. Up.

For good time's last moment.

Turn the key.

Click.

Click. Heels walk quickly.

Glad our hellos shall never

greet again.

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 17: Radical Acceptance

I grew up hearing the saying over and over again: "That which does not break you, makes you stronger." But I've grown to believe this frame of mind is very harmful and anxiety provoking to my physche: make it happen or you will be broken. Sure, you get stronger, I guess, but typically not in the moment that you are broken. It may take a few days, weeks, or, in my case, years to feel that there is a message in this madness called "life".

I learned a term the other day that has brought my search for a meaningful life to the next level: radical acceptance. In essence, this term means: "Letting go of fighting reality." (http://www.wikipedia.org/) Basically, you accept how things are even if you don't agree with them and live in harmony with your struggles. This frame of mind goes hand-n-hand with the "it is what it is" attitude.

I am eternally dealing with this mindset on a daily basis. In the uncontrollable midst of life, I constantly try to figure out, not what I CAN change, but what I WANT to change. I try to twist and fight and exhaust every effort to make things the way I want them to be. This action results in a lot of disappointment, angst, and anxiety....and, boy, does it make me tired. I have also learned that when I am in the throws of an upheaval, I really can't think about other people: it is too overwhelming for me, so I tend to focus on what I need to do to pull myself up. While trying to get pregnant with both my children (thank you, God, for them) I suffered several miscarriages. I know people meant well by telling me their or other people's horror stories that were either equal to or worse than mine. You know what, these stories made me feel worse because then I was worrying about my situation and everyone else I heard about. The best response, I think, is "I am so sorry this happened to you." A basic, caring statement is all that is needed to help someone feel supported and achieve radical acceptance.

In living a mindful life, I am trying to embrace radical acceptance and come to terms with those things I don't agree with but can't change. Maybe it is a delayed flight or a natural disaster that causes great damage to your home. Maybe it is a grumpy check out person at the grocery store or bad service at a restaurant. Maybe it is worse; maybe it isn't so bad. Whatever it is that causes you to live in struggle, not matter how small, deserves to be radically accepted. Not because you are thrilled it happened. Not because you think it happened for a reason. Not because you believe it will make you stronger. But because for the now it allows you to live in peace with chaos.

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 16: Living in the Gray

One aspect I am working on in trying to live a more mindful life is finding comfort in the gray. I prefer a black and white life: unwavering decisions, obvious paths, and absolute knowledge. Indecision makes me anxious, forks in the road nervous and the unknown scares me like nothing else.
But I am realizing that life isn't really painted with such clear cut colors: it is variegated with shades of gray and be-speckled with glorious dots of black and white. In order to feel content and rest in my peace, I have to learn to exist in a dappled life.
For me, this is a daily struggle, and, perhaps, and hourly one. I constantly assess what I can and cannot change or control. I can't control flight cancellations, weather, or someone else's feelings. I can't change time, my children's personality, or even how someone reacts to me. When something "gray" happens that makes my heart race, brow sweat or knees knock, it all comes back to taking a moment, a breath and a reality check.
Luck comes to those who not only live in the gray but also survive, dare I say, thrive in the gray. The lucky ones take change as a blessing. They rejoice when they have choices. And when a door closes, they walk up to the next one and pound on it as hard as they can. Those of us who fight the gray and try to stay in the lines are blind to the gifts that living in the gray affords us.

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 14: Acid Washed Jeans & High-tops

Being mindful of others' likes & dislikes is a challenging mindful tool to learn...especially with my children. I always want to instill my opinions and thoughts about everything. That's fine when it is about morals or drugs or religion and stuff that I feel really matters in their development. BUT should I really try to control every bit, especially the little parts that make up who they want to be at that moment?

When I was young, (well, not kid young but tween/teen young) I more often than not wore clothes that my mom didn't like. She would buy me matchy-matchy outfits and then look at me in dismay when I wanted to return them or if I would mix them up in different ways. It was my goal never to wear the same complete outfit twice and I was quite successful.

Side bar: This notion is so funny to me today because now I will wear the same outfit several times in a row--basically whatever happens to be on the floor by the toilet when I wake up. (Note to my Mother: I do; however, put on clean underwear.)

Any way, so Mom eventually started letting me pick out my own clothes...or at least some of them. I had these paint splatter capri pants and several pairs of acid washed jeans that I would either peg leg with my handy sewing machine or would simply do the fold and roll. If you grew up in the 80s, you know exactly what I'm talking about. In college, I moved onto an even more disturbing look for my Mom: short, short hair, no make up, white v-neck t-shirts, pegged jeans and pink high-tops that I had decorated with a Sharpie marker (both the jeans and shoes) and written my boyfriend's name on. I thought I was sooooooooo artsy and cool.

So the other day, my husband took my son (almost 11) to buy new every day sneakers. I finally started getting him just one pair because his feet grow so fast, it is just a waste for him to have more than one. Up until that day, I had just bought shoes for him while I was out shopping. They were typically white, regular sneakers and the brand depended on what was on sale at the time. For some reason, I actually thought that he would come back with a similar type shoe and it never occurred to me to give my husband any directions or shopping boundaries.

My son is wearing his new shoes when he comes in and I looked at them and had the fastest mindful moment I think I have ever had. There he stood in these black leather high-top sneakers...the kind all the "thugs & druggies" wore at my high school. After over 20 years, they still make these awful shoes?? My initial reaction was to tell him to get those ugly things off his feet & return them immediately. But my mindful little voice quickly chimed in, "Don't react, don't say anything negative. You told him to pick out his own shoes. And he did." He said with a grin: "Dad said you probably wouldn't like these, but I really do, Mom." My response (with a smile, I might add) was: "Honey, I told you to pick them out. If they make you happy then they are perfectly fine." Then I thought, "Thank goodness his feet grow fast. Besides that, at least he isn't wearing them with acid washed jeans."

Living a Mindful Life Lesson 12: The Lonely Hunter

Have you ever read the book by Carson McCullers called The Heart is a Lonely Hunter? Go here if you want to learn more about it: www.enote.com/heart-is. Any way, since I read it in college, the title has stuck with me more than the actual story. Since it has been at least 20 years since I read it, I can't really remember all the details. The main thing I remember is the title.

Lately I have been going through a lot of emotional turmoil. Lately meaning the last year and a half, but who is keeping record? Me. For eighteen months one thing after the other has happened to me or people I love from illnesses, to death, to cancer, to finical struggles and so on. I know we all have our issues and our life struggles. Some I consider worse and some not so bad. But who am I to judge? Pain, loneliness, problems and even joys are all subjective to the receptor and "experiencer".

I had a vision of my heart last night. It was a combination of the Dead Sea and the Moon: all cracked and cratered but still illuminating from an outside source---God, the love of my husband and the childlike admiration of my children?. I imagined that it is bandaged, scared, chipped, broken and sewed up with silk threads and wire. There are a couple of colorful band-aids from my daughter on there, too. Some repair jobs are surgical miracles; the scars are near invisible, and some are hack jobs. And I thought: "My heart is a lonely hunter" searching for love, companionship, truth, and acceptance.

One thing I've learned from parenting my two children is that they will behave in the best way possible with all that they have at that moment. I think the same is true for adults. I try to keep this in mind . In living a mindful life, it is important to try and take your loved ones, even the people you encounter day to day, as they are in the moment that they present themselves. If someone you love is usually jovial and all of a sudden they "aren't acting like themselves", then something must have happened. People's personalities and true selves don't change for no reason.

With my husband and parents, this is easily reciprocated--my joint unconditional lovers. I even took a binding oath to love, cherish and honor my relationship to my husband. Too bad we don't take a similar oath with our friends. Then there would be clearer guidelines on what is expected (I am such a black and white person.) I am guilty of taking my own silent oath to treat my friends as if...well they were friends and sometimes family (the good kind of family where you are nice to each other and everything). I am also guilty of placing expectations of them on the same level that I place expectations of myself as a friend. This often gets my feelings hurt because sometimes one of or all of them treat me in a way that is contrary to my definition of how I treat a friend. My heart is a lonely hunter.

So what do I do when this happens while trying to live a mindful life? Do I hold a grudge? Sometimes. Do I cry into my pillow at night? Often. Do I obsess over why,why why? Oh, yes. None of this is productive and not very mindful. One time when a man broke my heart into almost unrecognizable pieces, I laid and bed and cried for two days and nights straight. My sister-in-law show up and said: "OK it's over. It is his loss. Time to shower and move on." So, it all comes down to the proverbial "picking battles" theory. I have to choose whether to charge my heart into battle fully well knowing that it will come back lame and perhaps needing a lot of TLC.

It all comes down to protecting yourself: being mindful of what YOU can handle and what YOU want to battle over. Sometimes it just isn't worth it. Sometimes it is. Sometimes you should do the duck thing and let it roll off your back and sometimes you should charge head on like a bull seeing red. Whatever you do, before reacting, try to take a moment to assess the damages. You have to protect your lonely heart or go into it with a well stock First Aid kit in hand.