up to my elbows in bubbles

last night i did dishes till late...cleaning up after the block party. (YES i do SOME domestic things). tradion has somehow held that the tables are dragged to my house after the party, and i throw out, organize, and re-find the homes for the various bowls and dishes that used to contain pasta salad and strawberries filled with cream cheese & sugar. it gives me a chance to smile, remembering moments from the evening. today, the steppers arrived for brunch with their respective Important Persons, and left a pile of dishes and plates and pans and leftovers to be rinsed and washed. i am pleased to say husband took this on. and it gave me time to re-read a few pages of jen lee's book, Fortunes. and i never made it past the first entry. it echoed my sentiments today, and for the past few months. the piece is entitled "You Write To The Fence," and you have to buy the book to find out why it's so powerful. but i have been envisioning those Russian nesting dolls, and onions lately. how you peel away layer after layer, and it's all good (maybe a few tears) but wach one is it's own seperate, complete unit (or slice) but that there's still more to discover. and (in the case of the dolls)you think This Is It. but then you continue and continue, and even though the dolls are shrinking, in real life you are growing. i don't believe there is one true authentic self. i believe that as you travel through your life, you reach a point - and that's your true authentic self for that time. then you continue journeying, and that self doesn't seem right anymore, so you are on to the next layer. but they are all dependant on one another...the smaller dolls need the larger ones around it in order to be the thing they are - nesting dolls. so a part of you is always in a part of the others. and there is that core of Self that is You. and that travels the journey with you. and all this is leading somewhere...i'm not sure where, but i feel something new coming...i feel it in my art...in my spirit...in my choices - even in the past week. i will probably always swear too much, and be too loud at times, and too quiet other times. but i will also be taking care of myself more in future tangents. and expecting more from the ones i hold close...not always being the one to call or email, but sometimes expecting to be called first, or emailed first. even though it gives me as much pleasure to check in, as it does to be checked on. i believe this settling and unsettling is felt by those around me and was mostly the reason for a peaceful brunch with the steppers, for a change. expecting the best behavior from everyone, and gently correcting as one stepped onto The Usual path. and everyone, including the dog, rose to the occasion. and much cholesterol was consumed. and now there are soap bubbles twinkling iridecent in the light. time to enjoy an excellent nap. mazel tov. L.

a block of family

last night was our neighborhood block party...an annual event inspired 3 years ago by many many coolers of beer and food leftover from stepson's graduation party. there was no need for that much beer to be sitting unattended in our garage, so we dragged a grill to the grassy area of our cul-de-sac, knocked on doors, fired up the grill, and the Annual Block Party was born. it usually coincides with the Boy Scouts annual lobster sale, but neighbor's schedules this year (namely mine) delayed it by a week. it was cold and rain threatened, although i double-dared the skies to open up. they kept to themselves. this is how we build community here on Cumberstone Lane. This is how the children meet, and the new neighbors meet the old neighbors and get a sense of what we have built here - neighbors as family. and they know who they feel most comfortable calling for an in-a-pinch babysitter or a ride here or there. we are people who decide not to sell our houses and move away because of the neighbors. and the one or two who do, always try to make it back for this party. and the one or two who do move, leave a part of themselves here...the man who has been secretly plowing my driveway on snowy mornings when he sees my husband's car gone and knows i will have to struggle with the snowblower in addition to the usual morning stuff...and amazingly, we are almost all artists...painters, woodworkers, stained glass, assemblage...all this creativity in one small cul-de-sac. i have a neighbor who i'd meet in the street in our bathrobes with a freshly glued or painted piece - just for a quick check on progress or advice on how to proceed through a block. the mailman shakes his head. he's known us all for years and expects it. in the winter, as the snow piles up, we all retreat into our cocoons, but know our neighbors are there to lend a hand. this year we plan to have a few chili dinner nights (indoors!) so hopefully the strands will strengthen even more. there was a different vibe on our street this year, as two neighbors took a break from each other. it upset a lot of the balance, and sense of family. there were no hillbilly driveway parties, and not so many other events. but this end-of-season gave everyone a chance to realize & re-establish that it still is a block of family. at Squam this year, i saw that, as well. there were 2 families there - kids, husbands, etc. and at first i thought...kids?? little, loud, unpredictable kids?? who would do this?? and one night i went exhausted back to the cabin, the daddies were sitting in rocking chairs in front of the fire talking, and i realized how wonderful that they could be a part of community too. how incredible that these daddies came along to see what this experience was about...to join with their wives and kids and all these women. and i remember thinking that they were the ones that would have kiddie duty all day, in the woods, with no TV or other distractions. and i gave them an invisible hug and sent fairy dust to them for their selflessness and for wanting to be there. so, no real point to this post - just rambling about connections. now - to finish up the mannequin! L.

isn't this cool?

isn't this just the coolest?? so just what is happening out there? what I sense: a quieting. a gentle quieting. along with list-checking...re-prioritizing...being kinder to ourselves...not so much the cocooning of a few years ago, but more of an emergence of ourSelves in a new mindset...the frantic bursts of creativity and being and living and doing, all seem to be tempered by a choice to go a bit easier on ourSelves and enjoy the ride. and as our train slows down, the scenery takes on more focus, more clarity, and we can pick out individual images to hold in our hearts as our own. and discover new and different things - about ourselves...about the landscape of our Selves. ahhh. beautiful fall...the last grand show before the land rests outside my window, shrouded in blue/white blankets. can't you just smell the woodsmoke? L.

send some love y'all

please go here and send some comfort & love to one of the most giving, sharing women i have had the pleasure to meet.

a message for our time

heyyy...now here's a message....i am proud to say i am ordained. come along?

so yesterday i finally sighed and realized i had to do my Becky Home Ec-y schtick...there was no more getting around it. the cupboard was down to it's last saltine, the dog was looking for something Anything to eat and right then the cat looked promising. so to motivate myself, i made a list (yes i am a listmaker) of my tasks to accomplish that day. THOSE lists are small, as i don't want to die under the pressure of accomplishment. (by the way - i am sick sick sick with a fever - an actual fever, and probably shouldn't be babbling here, but i'm sick and bored, so my apologies). and #1 on the list was a trip to Hobby Lobby to get more adhesive. the kind that will bond a small planet together but not smell toxic. (locktite makes a spanky line of these - some are substrate specific which is very important). and in the middle of HL, with it's wrist-slashingly depressive music, i got an inspiration. for a painting. a small one. but a painting. i do not paint. i cannot draw and i do not paint. and i'm fine with that. it has not been a medium i am comfortable with, and have not cared to find a comfort level with it. despite the cartload of Golden acrylics in my studio. a drop of paint can last me longer than a glass of wine. and that is saying something. but there it was. the painting in my mind. then another. just two tiny little paintings. and hunh! there was a display of tiny little stretched canvases...on sale! So i felt i could risk the $5 and try it. and last night at midnight i finished the first one. and it is lovely and dear and i hug it. and it will be sent to the person who inspired it so i can't show you here. but i'll take a picture and show you after they receive it. and then, i wanted to do another tiny one. and i scratched my head and said "wha?" i don't paint. but i guess this past week has taught me some things. and i have re-realized some things i learned in life and was so used to knowing them, that i forgot them. things that are difficult to articulate, but are something along the meandering line of just because you aren't perfect at something the first time, don't give up. just because this doesn't look like that doesn't make it not good - only different. (i warned you i had a fever!) and that got me thinking again about my purpose and my path and what i re-remembered in the woods. a different woods. in Quebec on the Gaspe penninsula. 1978. traveling with the band. and a woman of great depth and insight proclaimed to me quietly and gently one night, secrets about myself that i didn't know...but knew...in my heart and spirit but not yet my brain. and what she said to me vibrated and hummed and sang in my spirit until the brain noticed there was a commotion annd finally took notice. and since then i have tried in a thousand different ways to be true to what i know as my purpose. oftentimes, we underestimate people based on how they look, or seem to act. we don't takeinto account that perhaps they act the fool in order to make you feel comfortable in a situation you are terrified to be in...they will take one for the team, as it were...when you think you could not possibly make that much of a fool out of yourself, you relax - the designation has gone to someone better equipped to handle perceived rejection. and don't we all naturally gravitate to those who look like us? or that we perceive will make us feel better about ourselves? whether by inclusion, or just their way of creating an oasis for your spirit. and for me, it's been about balance. and i believe i have found the recipe for that...my own recipe for my own balance. and that recipe often calls for someone to assist. and i learned to accept help when needed, and it didn't make me feel weak. and i learned when not to accept help, because it was a ploy to gain my dependence. and when to give help, and when to just listen. and there is so much more than just this one aspect, but i'm needing a nap bad right now, so you're off the hook of my rambling. but in this sweet moment, in the middle of Hobby Lobby, i saw it all stretched out before me, and i wasn't scared, and i didn't feel unable or unsure. and right there in front of the model airplane aisle with the tiny stretched canvases on the end cap SALE, right there, all was right in the world. wishing each of you a hobbylobby day, and i hope you have waffles...L.

question:

who did you meet? what did you bring to them? what did they give you? talk among yourselves.

so as i wandered through the week and smelled the woodsmoke and listened to the sounds of birds and squirrels and laughter and Things That Were Loud In The Woods At Night, i searched my heart for my Purpose...i have been feeling disconnected lately...disconnected from my art...my center...my "life vs Life"...and wanted to get back to basics...wanted to feel that Alive / Tingly / all is as it should be feeling...it hadn't left me - i had wandered from it. now to find the path again. that was my secret mission. yes, there was art to make, techniques to learn, friends to meet and re-meet...but i wanted to reaquaint myself with my Self. one morning as i Walked To Food with a group of others, i spied a rock. der, you say - we're in the woods of New Hampshire. but this rock was pretty and pink and had the words Find Courage on it. Michelle claimed it for herself, which was good because i have plenty of courage. i'm just saving it for something. next came pinecones placed in the shape of a heart. so now we are all paying closer attention to this treasure hunt. i lagged a bit behind, with the feeling that Something would be here for me. everyone else passed by My Rock. i spied it...blue with white writing. one simple word. EXPAND. expand?? that's it?? seriously? but my heart knew something my brain hadn't caught up with, and tears filled my eyes as i wondered why this one word was having such a profound effect on me. expand. expand. i couldn't speak as everyone gathered to see my rock. a tear slid down my cheek. expand. and i realized how compressed my world had become. in so many ways. how focused i had become on the routine of my life, and Life. how i had spent so very much energy trying to walk the path of the days i had chosen, and all i could see was the next step, the tunnel of brambles and branches. expand. there was a girl in my class who had come all the way from London to be in the same woods as i was in at that moment. expand. the thought terrified me that i would ever get on a plane and fly through all those time zones and airports just to arrive somewhere. when did that happen? why did that happen? and i began to see in a huge blast how my life had begun living me, rather than the opposite. how my new schedule at work had cut my life into 2 parts that rubbed against each other with uncomfortable friction. how 5 days was devoted only to working for someone else's dream...someone who would continue to take without regard. and then 2 days for ...Everything Else - mundane tasks, art, recentering. and this was no longer acceptable. and a solution to the problem became immediately apparent. and my spirit danced. and in case, just in case, i didn't get the message (as i am prone to do), later that day a woman with eyes so blue you'd swear she held the sky and ocean both within them, said to me one word ...Leap. and it made sense suddenly. expand. leap. and within those 2 very brief and gentle and personal moments, the brambles and branches and sticky things cleared and the sun was warm on my heart. expand. leap. and within those words were my purpose. i saw my place. i saw my Job. and the relief that i hadn't really strayed too far filled me. and the realization was that not too many scary changes needed to be made to get back to the proper compass setting. leap. expand. i met the Rock Fairy just a bit later in the dining hall, and again felt the lump in my throat. Thank you, rock fairy, for listening to your small, quiet voice that told you what to paint on that rock. after that, i was a driveling mess for the rest of the weekend...and it was all good, my friends.

Back

breathe in...breathe out....ahhh. do NOT look at the piles of tote bags and laundry and general stuff clogging the studio walkway. where to start? ok - random thoughts. this year's Squam was an entirely different experience from last year. in good great ways and small gentle ways and some, well, let's stick to those for now. i arrived and went to take my first picture..no card in the camera. luckily i had the teensy one that came with the camera. holds about oh 10 pictures...then overwrites. so i have 10 pictures. all from sunday. the beautiful shot of Jen through the crackle of the bonfire..nope. gone. Nebraska and I sitting on the dock one morning dangling our thoughts in the water...nope. gone. a sneaky shot of sue looking as wonderful as the person she truly is...nope. gone. swirly caught in a pensive flicker of raw intensity of emotion that can't be put into words...gone. jen lee's face radiating the stars..gone. but not so gone...these are all here. these snapshots have formed a collage and have hung themselves in my HeartGallery. now to jump about...if last year's Squam was a Red Bull overextravaganza circuscircus won the lottery experience, this year's (for me) is best described as a quiet cup of very good tea, sipped on a dock as the morning sun begins to warm and the sound of the water tagging the shoreline plays in the background. it was less...and it was more. less frenzy. more depth, i guess you could say. still emotional, but on a more personal level. thank you for all the hugs. thank you for being the one who hugged me first. thank you for accepting my hug and gripping so hard, in case i didn't get the message that...I Am. there was more clarity this year, perhaps because i knew what to expect - knew where the dining room was...knew to be the first one in the shower...knew the rythym of the woods...knew there was time to spend. also, maybe, because i've grown quite a lot this past year. and grown because of last year. and i knew there were expectations of myself that needn't be placed there...that were for other people. i learned that i would never be fill-in-the-blank and that was okay, because it wasn't actually a piece that belonged in my puzzle. and that was not only fine, but, i had re-learned that each of us has a place. each of us truly is here for our own special reason. and to imitate another because you admire them is not fulfilling your purpose. on a shallow example, i could, i suppose, transform myself into barbie again. (it is true...i have not always been chunky, older, and allow myself to go out without *gasp* makeup & good hair). but that time has passed for me in my spirit. and what i gained when i let that go, was so much more sweet and wonderful. that's not to say that it's wrong to look beautiful and wear makeup and buy out Anthro...it's just wrong if it isn't you...just you trying to be her. rant over). and in my acceptance of myself, i can accept other people. and that was a big one. this past year has been one of learning boundaries and re-learning to love who i am. and this year for a week in the woods, i saw that other people saw that, and it moved me. i set an intention last wednesday when i left home for this week. actually, a few intentions. that i would not get lost, that i would be peaceful. that i would be open to whatever was waiting for me. and that i would always be looking out for my Assignment for my spirit for the coming year. i took an amazing class with Nina Bagley and learned skills that i didn't know i could learn. and i made....nothing. and was very pleased. i learned techniques. and i learned that my competitive spirit was best left in the trunk of the car. i decided before class began that i was there to learn techniques to bring home and unwrap as the muses led me. mission accomplished beyond expectation. i learned that letting others "do" for me actually felt wonderful, and did not make me feel weak, as i had always feared it would. i learned how it felt to be on the receiving end of a gift, large or small. i've always been a giver of gifts...i love to make someone feel special...to remind them that they do have a place and that they are seen. and never not ever do i expect reciprocation. i received a number of gifts this past week...some material and some, words spoken from the heart. i treasure them all. and couldn't believe that someone had planned ahead to make/give ME something. i learned that if you have a "great idea for something to do at squam," do not tell elizabeth. she will say "that's fabulous! make it happen," then run from you. i learned that sitting quietly by the fire with a glass of wine and a bunch of folks is difficult for me. the quiet part. until the glass of wine kicks in. and that it's okay to walk to breakfast alone. or with a group of people you just met. i set my intention to get to know people i didn't get to know last year. the tags helped. i get to meet everyone. it is as much a blessing to me to do that, as it is a blessing to Elizabeth to receive her beautiful treasure box. and even when my prepared words for the presentation of the box zip cleanly and quickly out of my head the minute the microphone goes on, i know it was never about me anyway, and i'm good with that. i have embarrased myself far too many times publicly to let a wordless speech even hit my radar. i learned that some people cannot slow down and it isn't always good energy that drives them...that to keep moving forward at a fast pace is a good way to try to outrun fear. can i tell You, if you're reading this...you cannot outrun fear...it has cosmic nikes and will soon capture you. then you will be, not only tired, but fearful as you feared you would be anyway. so feel the fear. wrestle it down. kick it's undeserving ass. then grab it's ruby red nikes and go. (clarification - i am not talking about Elizabeth). new random thought. i am rambling aren't i? i learned i do not have to be everything to everybody, but it is essential absolutely essential to my purpose to be Something to Somebody at the moment they need it. and that is too huge to explore much more here right now. and it requires me to slow down and to be in touch. and to honor other people's space and what they are capable of reaching for. and what they are yearning to reach for. and what they need to hear and what they need someone to hear. and sometimes silence is the best way to love someone. and to show them they are loved, and they Are Not Invisible and they Matter more than the frenzy of unpacking and organizing and settling in. more than Anything. They Matter. and their fears are valid and not silly, even though you know that those fears will be forgotten in a matter of a few days in the woods. in new hampshire. doing something so terrifying to them that they turned around many times to go back to the safety of the familiar and maybe dissapoint themselves and become Less. courage is born from fear. from feeling the chill flop sweat of fear drip from you and doing it anyway. and courage can be found in a smile given at the right moment, or a pat on the back from a hand that went through before you, or a hug for no apparant reason. aren't hugs the best? from nebraska i learned so very much. not just self defense techniques (you picked the wrong person to fuck with)...jersey, you taught me to find the center point and move out from it, recalibrating the compass and stopping to hydrate along the way. santa monica, sometimes words are too much and just Knowing is plenty. brooklyn, yo, controlled exuberance is magical - your heart is larger than the state. East90, be You, please. my classmate T (who left her dress-over-jeans home) i am so glad to have met you with my heart...your gift to me will continue to open throughout the year. (didn't know you gave me one, huh?) okay...random topic. why, i ask, why do people say to themselves, "i have extra alcohol...what should i do with it? OH! Linda! let's give it to her!" i came home with a trunkload of alcoholic beverages. some very fine alcoholic beverages. i can make a bottle of wine last way pass the expiration date. i am the original cheap date. a single glass of wine will have me telling family secrets and stories that are best left under the rug. then, thankfully, i fall asleep. so other people can get a word in edgewise. and i wake up in the morning wishing for a do-over. my rental car is now officially 2 hours overdue. iam in my bathrobe. i do not care. and if they fuss, after what they put me through, i will slay them with fury. let someone else drive the minicar they tried to pass off on me. i'm sorry. that's selfish but there it is. now. i am off to eat a waffle. L.

the great car incident

because i am who i am, i was cautiously optimistic that my uberplan for preparing for, and actually making it to, Squam would go smoothly. but my inner voice of reason grabbed her stomach as she laughed herself to tears. the plan: pack, repack. rewrite list & repack. realize i had packed everything i own and unpack & repack yet again. then...rent car. in order to carry all my navigational tools, i bought an adaptor thingie so i could plug all of this into one cigarette lighter thingie. speaking of cigarettes...mom came by this morning to take me to the rental car place and decided i had tried everything else - why not try God. so she prayed that i would quit smoking. as we headed toward the door, the phone rang and rental car man advised me to take my time - he didn't have a car for me. i will spare you the head exploding moments that followed, but he agreed that yes, it would be the healthier choice for him to FIND a car and drive it across town to me and deliver it at my job. the receptionist and i waited during my non-smoking lunch hour...staring at the door as she regaled me with tales of how this very same company had, on a consistant basis, screwed over our company - delivering a Prius when a van was ordered, not delivering at all, etc. i paced. soon, car man pulled in with a car...not my full sized sedan that i had ordered, but a Vibe. a toy-ish looking car, that despite it's petite cuteness had the design flaw of very deep, low seats...i could not see over the steering wheel. much verbal flagellation ensued, with the CEO chuckling from his 2nd floor aviary, as i flapped my arms and made threatening sounds. so...armed with car man's home phone number, i agreed to TRY to stuff this circus-clown-of-a-small car with all the repacked and overstuffed stuff that i had. AND i held out for a 20% discount. AND a tree-shaped air freshener. if i could't stuff this thing, then he would personally make certain that i had a real persons big car at 7am, when he would sacrifice his hangover cure and come in early. how he is planning to manifest such a vehicle overnight is his problem. i drove home in this tiny tin thinking Hell No. not a safe feeling car. called car man at home, pissed off his wife who is certain we are setting up an assignation. again his problem. so we have a date at 7am, and God help him if the promised Impala is not shiny and waiting at 7am with a tree-shaped air freshener. so i made it all day without a thought to smoking. all day. not one twinge. when i walked in the door and smelled (surprise) cat yark, i, at the self-same moment spied my leftover pack of smokes, and without thought to God, i am ashamed to say i toked a big lungfull. tomorrow is another day. i have a suspicion that i may have forgotten to pack underpants, but refuse to unpack, check and repack again. you know, i try to live a gentle life - a life centered and filled with good intention that becomes a fulfilled prophecy. but people, there are forces that work against this as i go about my day in such a la la la way....forces that are unseen but for the chaos and drama they bring upon my depleted resisitance. and it is in these moments when my sense of humor develops yet larger...in these moments when i shrug, much like Uncle Sam-the-garbage and know that i am the Universe's jester. at last my purpose has revealed itself. so, as i head off into the woods (God willing) say a prayer for me. an all-encompassing prayer that will cover any eventuality and any possible circumstance. let your mind wander and be free with the possibilities of what could possibly intervene in my path to peace. because i tell you, there is great possibility that you will have only nicked the tip of the iceberg. i will offer a full report when i get back. peace out my friend. L.

i'm headed off into the woods of NH wednesday at dark o'clock...i have that First Day Of School feeling in my stomach, and am stupid crazy excited! i can't wait to see all my friends from last year and make some new ones...i may have worn some down, so we'll give them a break. if you've been in on the inevitable pool...i have packed, unpacked and repacked just 3 times. please let me know who won the money this time. shame on you for ill-gotten gain ... poking fun at OCD. (i'm laughing right beside ya sister). so hopefully, re-entry will be easier this year now that the "which place is reality" conflict has been resolved in my head....reality is There. AND i can bring it back! so problem solved. be good. be patient. pray i get there. i'm renting a car. okay. good night. see you monday. L.

meeting another piece of me

have you ever met someone and instantly felt like you were meeting a soulfriend? they have a piece of you and you have a piece of them inside, and those pieces recognize each other...and there is a moment when you hear your inner Self say This Is Going To Be An Important Person In Your Life...have you ever had a sweet moment like that? and then the friendship begins to bear instant fruit...sweet, nectar-dripping ripples that begin to take on life around you...have you ever? i am blessed to know so many women like that...some have become part of my SoulPosse, some i've never seen again, but they remain in my HeartMemory and our pieces commune. i met a woman with one of my pieces yesterday, and the events that had to align in order for us to meet...well, even now i smile to think that the Event Planner must be the busiest job in the Universe...a job i would totally dig when i get there. my weekend plan was to go to the Schweinfurth on saturday with my angelfriend georgia, and go see bro's new place today. well, i ended up taking friday off to fill my soul and rest my mind, which had become trapped in a hamster wheel. by circumstance, georgia got free of her deadlines early, and we went to the exhibit friday. now, there's a junk/antique shop on the way that should not be missed. and g's always in for some quality junk shopping, but this time - we were visually overloaded, so we didn't stop. i woke up early (of course) saturday and determined, despite a near-migraine level sinus headache, that i was going back. about 5 minutes into the drive, a sign beckoned that the Golden Harvest festival was on, and it was Right There. (this festival has little to do with harvest, and since it usually rains at least 1 day - should be called the Brown festival due to all the mud). there's usually a cool collection of crafters and artists and clydesdale horse-pulled wagon rides, so i detoured, and as i did, i got that tingly feeling that a Grand Plan was taking shape. the festival was slim pickings - very few vendors, and mostly quilted purses and jewelry (not the kind you'd really wear). as my disappointment grew, i ran into my yoga instructor and our chat lifted me. i made my way toward the exit thinking maybe that was the reason for the detour. just before the exit, i saw a booth with the most incredible walking sticks. walking sticks? yep. ok - a little backstory: as my neighbor walked her westie & labradoodle last month, they were both attacked and the westie killed by a vicious off-leash dog last month. my neighbor has been terrified to walk her remaining dog ever since, and had remarked that she wanted a sheleighle of some sort for protection. the neighbors will walk with her when we can, but it's not the same. ok - now here i am in front of some of the most remarkable walking sticks. and felt this incredible This Is An Important Person feeling. go here to see what i mean. we talked for a while and she was touched by the reason for the stick, and insisted on adding ollie's name to the stick, with a little heart. we also added coco's so she wouldn't get jealous. i still feel that there are reasons that our paths will cross again, and often. i don't know why, and have learned not to play 20 questions with Life...just let it flow. well, okay - i'm still learning that part, because as you may know, i am the one who finds, opens, and re-wraps all her christmas presents. the anticipation is more than my mind can handle. and as a bonus, angelfriend georgia came up with the solution to the problem of the CrowWoman, which isn't CrowWoman at all, as it turns out. stay tuned for that one. so back to my original thought...isn't it just the most Incredible Experience when you meet someone that has a piece of you in them? and that piece of them that is in you reaches out and hugs the piece of you in them...and the bond is always remembered in the place inside that holds All Good Things, even if you never meet them again...even if they never were aware that they hold a piece of you in a small, sacred spot within them...even if they never know that you will forever hold them - that one moment of them - in a sacred memory of when All Things Were Planned just to bless you...just to remind you that you are special and cared for and not forgotten, and that the story is nowhere near the end. isn't that just the most? L. the chain...i actually call in Not Sick on friday, despite the Voice of the Martyr inside ...georgia finishes her deadline work early, early despite dire predictions against this happening...we skip the junk shop...i am determined to go back despite my sinus headache...i become distracted by the Golden Harvest festival and turn around, despite knowing it will be mostly crammed with country kitchen kitsch...the yoga intructor slows me down enough so that i can breathe and really see...the walking stick booth is there for the first time ever, i believe...my headache disappears...my word for the year (picked on 1/1/09) was "despite," by the way. isn't it all just so very good?

a note ....despite my best efforts i am still one of the masses huddling outside doors and racing for airport exits to smoke. a lot. i had hoped to re-quit by the time i left for NH wednesday, but it honestly is not looking good. if you see me in NH, please know that 1) i am aware that i smoke...2) i am probably the only one there who does and am feeling very badly and self-concious about it but am truly addicted...3) i know my clothes and hair and breath will smell, but want so badly to hug you that i may risk a comment about how bad my clothes and hair and breath smell and hug you anyway...4) will be feeling like a neon target is on my head because i am smoking...5)promise not to point out your failings if you promise not to point out mine (i say in gentleness)...6)hope that you will risk the stinky smell of my clothes and hair and breath to hug me because i really could use it. there. i feel better getting that out in the open. i had almost thought of staying home because of it, but am just selfish enough to say i couldn't miss seeing you because of a habit that's a little more obvious and gross than some (like nosepicking, for example). Linda oh - and PS...i'm also having short-term memory issues, so although we may have the same conversation many times, it will probably be all shiny & new to me each time! now there is an oppty for your fun! L.

updated

i have updated THIS and i must say it is well worth the trip back for a look-see with the new link. go ahead - click it and learn.

i work in hell. i am convinced that if you pulled the ceo's face hard enough, the latex would peel off in shreds and there would be: the Dark One Himself. i cannot possibly continue with this...more work, fewer people..no raises...lunchtime car cries- all the cars lined up in the secret cul-de-sac we all hide out in to smoke, and now - cry. i may use this as a business advantage and charge a toll to enter the street. maybe sell smokes out of my trunk, like a schoolyard crack daddy. these are the thoughts that bring me warm comfort for an hour each day. yes. i am so ready for a week in the woods. if you go, and see me curled in the fetal alcohol position in a corner - leave me. and don't move suddenly nearby. thank you.

susan greene...email me! i tried to get your link but it was broken!! my old computer crashed and i can't find you...so sad....

tectonic living

My mom used to sing this little song that goes like this:"i love myself, I think I'm grand...i go to the movies and I hold my hand...i put my arm around my waist, and when i'm fresh i slap my face." the tectonic plates continue shifting, and a tsunami of thoughts, dreams, feelings and backwash are hitting the beach...along with some wonderful treasures that were buried deep beneath the silt. it has been a year of crumbling, destruction, and rebuilding...or leaving the parts in a heap that belonged there in the first place. the process became derailed for a while, as i got distracted by some glittery things dangling from the tree, but about a week ago, i began re-reading Ordinary Sparkling Moments (for the billionth time) and although i've read it before, this time certain parts lept at me like neon. i hope Swirly doesn't sue me if i quote some of them here, throughout, but they are just too good, and too True not to. (and btw, you may follow along in your own copy. go now and buy it. go ahead - i'll wait). ok. so, last year, my "to do" list included getting Very Serious about my art (again)...getting out there and promoting my work...getting into galleries not in syracuse...and most daunting - making The Most Important Piece. not too shabby of a list, not difficult for a constant communicator like me to self-promote, kick in doors, generally wear down by annoyance...tenacious as a terrier, that's me. but it was the Most Important Piece that stopped the train on the tracks. it effectively cut off the flow of intuition and magic, as i strove to create a dark & moody serious piece of art that would bring people to their knees and change the world...just by glancing at it. now, that is asking a lot of art when the flow and magic has been staunched. i have stood in front of a piece and wept openly and forked over mortgage money because i was so incredibly moved (see my livingroom). there are pieces that i wasn't able to purchase in this lifetime, but remain in my very fiber ... that's how much of the artist's soul was in the piece. and that is what i set as my goal. and, peoples, it is entirely attainable. and it is well within the realm of my skills. BUT - the soul and the flow and the magic was blocked by....what? and that's where our story begins. and here is where i quote: ...I am beginning to find my way back to a part of myself i thought might be lost forever...it is as if this part of myself has been waiting quietly and patiently for me to notice her again, believe in her and return to her. Now that she knows i'm aware of her she is glowing brightly, yet still completely patient as i make my way towards her through the forest. i am finding myself once again. she is waiting with open arms." and i'm still in the trees a bit, but that sheer joy and stay-up-all-night exploding with sparks and wonderment...that, peoples, that is beginning to return as i take some deep LifeBreaths and remember that my Inspiration comes from a different Source than say gailwhonevercalls or lynnbelly or lisalisa or swirly or angelfriend or...fill in the blank. and by "Source" i mean, each of us makes art for different reasons and from a different starting point and in a different Way and for different outcomes. these are seemingly superficial statements, but go beneath for a moment. ask any artist why they make art, and at some point they will say "because i have to." Be they a commercial artist, a sparetime artist, whatever...they are artists all equal. because to not make art - to ignore the incredible urge and inspirational spark that hits, would be like the tide trying to resist the moon. at some point you Have To Make Art or you will become so uncomfortable, and so miserable that the rest of the shiny beautiful wonderful things that come your way will seem lifeless. i compare it to quitting smoking - now, that's all you think about when you're trying to quit...smoke smoke smoke. so i belabor here, but it's only because it's difficult to put my thought into meaningful enough words and if i use all the words i know, then maybe the right ones will line up. nu? so the past year i became Serious about my artWork. and would carve out every spare moment to stand at my worktable with the big daylight lighting above and all of nature looking back in the wall of windows. and created...nothing. nothing. an entire year. well, a few things, but they were nothing that came from the soul...just a little something. and the more i tried, the harder it got, as the frustration built and the practicing of "failure" became more learned. it got to the point where i would avert my eyes as i walked into my studio to get to my computer...i would not look to the left to see all the lucious rusty stuff waiting on shelves or the colors of Golden acrylics lined up silently. it was a dismal reminder of how un-artful i had become. so i started reading books about how to be a better artist...how to unlock and unleash your creativity...and one book said Make Art Everyday and another said Wait For The Moment of Ecstatic Inspiration and another said ...you get the picture. and none of them really felt right in my skin. so the other day, in a heap of wet tears and frustration and being absolutely beyond pissed off at the Universe for not catching me when i lept off that cliff to find my bliss, in this terrifying rage, i set out into the woods to take a walk and discuss with the Universe why i was so disappointed in it and how maybe i had placed my trust in the wrong thing and maybe would become jewish again, cause at least you know where you stand with the torah. and a funny thing happened as the squirrels pelted me with walnuts like the playful urbanbastardmonkeys that they are and i, already pissed off, added them to the list of things that will not be allowed in My World when i create it. a funny thing happened...i realized that i hadn't walked my woods in a very long time. i had taken diva on her prescribed morning poo, but i had not carved out time for myself to walk through the woods, alone, smelling the scent of newly budding branches and soft perfume of forest flowers and warm leaves and had not taken time to feel the scratchy bumpy bark from the monkey tree. quite simply: i. was. empty. i had not refueled my creative self in a year. i was so caught up in the business of art - the seriousness of the task at hand - that i had forgotten why i make art...why i personally make art. and my personal Source. and it made for a miserable summer for myself, and increasingly, those around me. my soft edges gone...my thoughtfulness seemed obligatory. i asked myself...what do i bring to the table? what have i come here to express? what do my hands want to touch? and as i return to center, once again, there are a thousand things i've left out...some too personal to put out in the window of the web...some still finding their way through the forest to the bright glowing light - that is mySelf...waiting for me. i thank you, dearest hearts, for making your way through this ramble...i hope i came close to expressing the unexpressable, or at least you got a glimmer of what i meant. if so, clue me in, because i'm not so sure. and i truly think that there is a Unique Expression inside each and every one of us and that if we're quiet, and respectful, and we don't try to chase it, then it will come purring up into our laps and we will let that out in ways that will astound us. now i'm off to ramble through some authenticity.

what do you serve a federal marshall...

...when he comes rapelling down from a helicopter with 30 of his best buds all dressed in ninja black? this is my question to you. because if i focus on that one question, then the rest of the story may get lost in the shuffle of trying to get past the day and trying - with eyes squinty squinted as tighly as possible - trying to click my heels and load a pistol. someday, if you haven't already, you will meet my next ex-husband-to-be. he does not know of the existence of this blog, because i need a safe place to go. away. sort of my verbal vomit closet. so okay. ninjas. hillbilly husband likes to hunt. (i pretend he's gone on a business trip.) there is no stopping him. he lives for huntin' season. men in the woods. totin' guns. drinkin beer 'round the fire and farting. so they have a special he-man woman-hatin-club...about 4 or 5 of them rent the rights to hunt some property that is owned by a farmer in a location even less metro than where i live. 2 years ago, they said "HEY! let's drag that old trailer up onto said land and have a warm-ish place to sleep at night, as opposed to our vehicles. and then we can stay away from the wimmin longer! yes! let us do this!" and the village was happy and much dancing and celebration ensued. so they drag this shell of an old single-wide trailer and plop it onto the land. the farmer said Ok Sure. the men have clean-up days and close-er-up-for-the-season days. whatever. well, apparently, the farmer has farmhands that have planted, ummm, Crops of a non-authorized nature in those self-same woods. and one day, as the federal agent passed by in his sikorsky (not to be confused with sworovski) he looked down through his mirrored aviator raybans and said LO! Crops Of An Unauthorized Nature! and immediately sported a stiffy. soon, many many black Explorers decended upon the He-Man Woman-Hating clubhouse, and many camo clothed men evac-ed from the helo, probably talking in code ZULU ZULU something something else two niner. and toting guns that, well, would've given the hillbillies caliber-envy. had they been there. thank god. and had they known this was ensuing. thank god. and if they had had an inkling, each and every one of them would have beat feet to the scene, and stood there going, "cool!" like the little boys that they are. now, the trailer is very near a pasture containing many bulls. in fact, you have to hot-foot it through that pasture in order to get to the clubhouse. i can only imagine the scene as i grab another scotch and zanax. now, the farmer happened to be away at an ag convention...his only time ever throughout the year that he leaves the farm. but his wife was home. of course. bewildered and pissed off. mightily and righteously. because now shehas a field full of angry bulls, and another field filled with a bunch o' feds, all hopped up on adrenaline, a single-wide trailer with no doors and windows, and a tinge of teargas or napalm in the air. and she was looking forward to a pedicure night and a glass of good wine. although i have NEVER been to the clubhouse, and although i have never met the farmer's wife, i pray for her. because although i have to live with the hillbilly, she has to clean up after the mess. so farmer's wife, i raise a glass to you. and i vow to never complain about doing laundry again. L

evolution

a weighty topic for such a carefree weekend, but there it is. now i don't care if you believe the whole Big Bang thing, or a religious rendition, or a combination. or if like me, you tend to say "ya know, I don't really care...I'm here now and Who Is Going To Do The Laundry?" and it was the thoughts along those lines that got me re-pissed off about the conspiricy of educators to not even PRESENT the option that i feel may hit the nail on the head about how we came to be. i skip past the whole Initial Person thing and head straight for the caveman. i believe at that point, women said No Way to creation. NO to living in a drafty cave...No to outdoor plumbing..Hunting & gathering...grunting men in leopard skin. (although the 70's music scene did bring a bit of that back). so the caveMEN had to somehow create more cavemen. and here is where it gets a little harder to understand. even back in those days, men could not hit the laundry basket (the toilet had not been invented yet, so i'll give them a pass on that). so when their dino-hanes needed replacing, they threw them onto the forest floor and after a few months...LO! life sprang forth from the tighty whities. much like mildew on a long lost pair sitting under the hamper for Quite Some Time. so soon there were many cavemen, and they demanded cavewomen. we finally said ok...they had fire and the wheel by now, so things were looking good as a ground-floor investment. an IPO if you will. the gamble did not pay off. once we arrived on the scene, things got easier in the caveman's life and they went about their games in the woods and sitting around the fire belching. we became crafty and innovative, having the need to invent laundrymats and grocery stores, and soon communities were built so we could gather and compare stories. i'll explain more in another post, but you can see where there might be a grain of truth going here. and yes...it is laundry day here. a/k/a PhD day - piled higher and deeper. which explains two things..1) why i am spending time writing about laundry, which started it all, and 2) why i don't have time to finish this post, as the cat has just christened the dark load waiting to go downstairs to be washed. l.

never in my history (okay, well, once before)have i been here...this dry place...this place with so many ideas and no hands to work them...so many grains of sand in the desert, but without water, no sandcastle can be built. i am on the verge of doing something i have never done: giving up. different from not finishing, which is a temporary resting of an idea or project till the sparks fly again...till that one rusty piece appears and suddenly you know that's what was missing. no, this is different. this is more final. and there has been a huge and compelling and incredibly private reason for it. i only know that in these wee hours when i've wandered the floors and paced my street like a coyote, the only peacefulness has been when i allowed the entertainment of the thought that there is a LifeLesson that this project was meant to bring me, and nothing more. the easily accomplished and wonderful ideas i have, seem to short-circuit between brain and the fingers...the endless running in place...the hours spent trying to work the plan...or, as in the title of one of Georgia's books: coax nectar from longing. it has all caused me to pick apart every aspect of my creativity...my life's motivations...to poke into the dark corners with a stick as i look for a mouse nest or dust bunny...a clearing and a clarifying....a burning away of the chaf and ego and useless stuff that collects around the corners as we trundle through life. the signs and wonders lit my path like the high beams on prison walls - there would have been no mistaking them, had i chose to look. i spent an inordinate amount of time (even for me) examining these things this summer, while at the same moment standing back as an observer wondering what the hell i was doing spending so much time examining these things and not doing. summer is a good time for this...when the thoughts spin too closely, scaring up a tornado, there is always a walk through the woods to settle the storm. as to the ephemeral lessons that hung in the mist just out of sight ...my eyes finally adjusted to the fine light, and there they were. and it all suddenly fell into place. and the fears that kept me from looking too closely - once again proved to be false. i am grateful for these lessons...as difficult as they have been (and continue to be, as a few dusty corners are still holding out). and i can honestly say i now know how metal feels when it's sanded...sparks flying, grinding noises whining. these lessons have had their work cut out for them as they tried to cut through this fortressed heart. and as my 7th grade Self accepts that her time is gone, once and for all, i can step forward - hopefully to a place of rest for a while - and begin again with a new perspective...rather, an old one, with improvements.

saturday

and a little... and some.... gotta love saturdays

can i just say this...i did not spend most of my early years learning which fork to use first just to spend a chilly evening in my dark driveway with a man in baggy-assed shorts watching him blow into an owl call. no i most certainly did not. and yet. i stood exhausted in my driveway. in an upper middle class neighborhood. a neighborhood with rules and covenants. and where you need approval to paint your house. and you can't keep a boat in the driveway. or jack up your pick-em-up truck to change the erl on sunday after church. that kind of neighborhood. is where i stood tonight. with a man in baggy-assed shorts watching him blow into an owl call. and listening as an owl - a real owl, mind you, hooted back. and got closer. and closer. til it was in my neighbor's back yard tree. and still, the man with the baggy-assed shorts persisted. and the owl, the real owl, came closer. i just knew i KNEW we'd end up on one of the America's Stupidest People shows. like where the man smears himself with deer estrus and goes into the woods and LO! gets bitch-slapped by a deer. and all the while, his wife, screaming, videotapes the rape for all of america to later snicker at. i did not have a video camera, but do plan to buy one, because i am certain Absolutely Positive that this behavior will continue, and soon earn me $10K on some show as the grand prize winner of America's Stupidest Person. and i will say Yep. it was him. so back to our story - i know i have you on the edge of your bale of hay. so the Green Acres thing is going on. and Romeo Owl, the real owl, is about 1 tree away. now i'm am certain that the fake owl with the baggy-assed pants had no plan. no idea what he would do if approached by a real owl asking if he came there often. and to be sure, fake owl had no clue not an inkling what in the God's green world he was saying to this real owl, as he blew 3 short and 1 long hoot through some lame-ass owl call he got at - yes of course - the State Fair. known for it's ingenious products of realistic-ness and value. so hootie and his blowtoy continued hooting the real owl in for...? what? he didn't know. just because he's a guy with a cool toy and because he could. so the real owl was about as close as it could be without revealing itself. and loverboy farted. yes. he did. and apparently real owls do not break wind, cut cheese, toot, flatulate, pull fingers, rip one off, etc. and AND then laugh uproariously at their own accomplishment. so 25 minutes of Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom...down the drain. so to speak. i swear i was not raised to live this life. and now know what all those reruns of Green Acres were meant to teach me. i will commence affecting a Hungarian accent and wear pearls with everything. dahlink. so how was your night? linda

i've been up since 5am (thanks west coast) rockin this mannequin. well, slow rockin...but all good. i know the exact thing i want to accomplish today, and as each step has failed to cooperate, it has given me time in my meditation room to fully develop the idea. it has grown, but only to the proportion that it was meant to be. unusual for me and my flights of fancy. i haven't needed to use my "prescription" yet, and have a feeling i won't. i've spent 5 hours and 16 minutes on this beak thing. and each prototype comes closer to what i want. yes i'm picky about the details...most of my work is about the details. diva is snoring (loudly) under the desk, and kitty is curled up in the middle of the walkway that i need to use. now, here's my dilemma: i am starving. and want more coffee (of course). in order to get to the kitchen, i have to walk downstairs, through the livingroom, through the diningroom and into the kitchen. easy enough. lord knows i make that trip too many times a day. HOWEVER...kitty has upchucked a year's worth of wet kitty food in the livingroom. there is no mistaking it - she/he was proud as punch and, with a right-angle ruler, a plumb bob and a laser level, got this stuff into the exact geographic center of the pathway through the livingroom. i saw it from the stairs and froze. then backed slowly upstairs, so as not make the stairs creak and wake husband. i didn't want him to know that i knew that there was kitty yark on the carpet. because if he sees it first (or so he thinks) he will have to either A) clean it up, or B)ask me to. and option B would be a stinky thing to do to someone. so - yes - i am a mean and selfish person when it comes to this. i admit it. i'm not proud of it. but there it is. in way of explanation...for 3 years before Kita passed away, i cleaned enough carpet to get the Stanley Steemer citizens award. 3 times a day, no matter how watchful i was...i could be found behind my trusty carpet cleaner. and it isn't just the shampooing part...that i could do all day. it's the, ummm, prep work before that. and people, i am just not that attached to this cat to forgive and understand why it keeps doing this to me. so i hear husband headed downstairs now and i'm waiting for him to use my prescriptive word. i hope he doesn't think he can just leave it there till i come down so he can point it out to me, leaving me with the choice between option A or B. the only way around this is to A) not eat, or B) tie sheets together and rapelle down the side of the house, go through the kitchen door off the deck and eat. (the same deck where little skunk got me). decisions decisions. i have got to learn to leave some snacks in my studio. L.

in case you thought i died...oh if only. and i may have a few days ago, but am too busy to lie still properly. here's the shorthand...big girl job: 2 departments...already strugglingly understaffed with 6 people...my dept down to 3 people, another has 4. shorter version - me & 1 other person trying all week to keep up with the work from BOTH depts. yes. i have taken 175 calls to date, according to the clicker counter thingie. and that does count the 4 i hung up on because they were settling in for a long chit chat. sorry. i just.couldn't.take.anymore. i answered your question 4 FOUR times. on tuesday i left early-ish with chest pains. stress, as it turns out. go figure. was it tuesday? anyway. last night i got home at 7:45pm and went straight to bed, having almost fallen asleep at the wheel on the way home. so - that's where i've been. sorry nothing pithy or deep....just day-to-day kicking my ass right now. and i get to work on a database project most of sunday. i am earning kharmic points by showing up. i'm not certain how many miles on my kharma card, but lets hope LOTS after this week or buddha's got some 'splaining to do to me, and he should be very afraid. zzzzL.

didja ever? hunh?

didja ever get the feeling that something Huge was coming? (no- aside from Uncle Morty for sedar). something Really Important...a shift...a change...a new way? i've been fidgety and uncomfortable for months now and really have had no clue why (other than the obvious)...but this felt more...hmmm...i don't know how to explain it. then today i had a few blessed moments of peace to myself on the deck with a cup of coffee and a cigarette (yessss i know) and in the midst of bodily pollution, i had an epiphany so sweet and brilliant and gentle but so stunningly clear. it made me ashamed for a moment to be on the deck polluting my body when such a wonderful gift came from Somewhere That Cared, even as i desecrated the temple so to speak. and i realized in that lightening bolt of a moment that art and i were about to have a paradigm shift. actually, we're going old school...back to when i made art for fun and bliss, rather than to prove to a particular person that i was relevant and the real deal. back when i just did it and whatever happened ...happened. and the sticky thing that is true, is that i never cared one way or the other if i was making money from my art or just making art...i had set my life up so i didn't need to depend on art as a way to survive ...so i could just express myself and be free in it...and not worry about galleries and commissions and stuff like that. last summer i determined that i did not want to be a fulltime artist again just for that reason. and i stopped the semi-madness that i was creating in my life and heart. but i didn't stop the part that still wanted to prove something to that one person who should have mattered most...the person who should have cared either way. and i bought into the lie i told myself that i needed to do that, and then i could go back to being more authentic - to over-abuse a term. so this morning at 6am-ish, i just stopped. and the relief was amazing. and it energized me immediately. and i said, oh- so this is what you've been trying to say all along. and i got busy in my studio for an hour of bliss. and the hands and the heart and the spirit re-remembered how very cool it was to work together, rather than each being off in their own worlds. and it's not that i'm quitting art, per se, it's more that i am re-balancing life. and i have a sneaky suspicion that that Next Big Thing is right around the corner as some stars have lined up. so my dreams? the ones i've set aside for pointless hours with glue and metal and solder and wood? the KitaBear Respite House...that one. that needs some attention. and i do believe it may happen sooner, now that it has my attention again. it is all just so good and tasty. L.

i've been up for hours...pacing the deck...taking care of the usual morning stuff - feeding animals, letting animals in and out and in and out...and trying to come to terms with some things that have brewed stronger than my coffee. an old aquaintance has been living here as a guest for some time now, and it really truly is time that they leave. but how to make that happen without destroying the good parts that they bring to life? for every yin there is yang...every seemingly destructive thing has a part of it that is good and needed...you hate getting a shot, but it provides protection against disease...that type of thing but deeper. i have stared down depression and come to an agreement with her. i have worked around chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. i have come to terms, for the most part, with my changing middle-aged body and cut myself some slack in the Barbie department. but my long-term houseguest is much more deeply entrenched i suspect: fear. and time and again she has shown herself to be a liar...holding up the magnifying glass to show a pouncing lion, when it's really a cuddly kitten. fear does have super-powers though. i look around my studio, or visit friends, and see my artwork and am astonished sometimes that it's from my hand. i remember being in the moment that i created it...the zone..the blissful moments when the divine inspiration flowed. and now i have 3 incredible opportunities presented to me...and the concentration and decision-making and flow of grace - poof. since i KNOW i can do it, and would normally have finished these pieces in a snap, i had to step back and ask myself why not now. a little fear - a little edge - is good. it's a great motivator. but once it gets stuck on a hamster wheel in your gut, it has the power to stop you cold. and that's where i am. i have ideas swirling in my brain. i yell Pick One...just Pick One. plan the work and work the plan. but as i begin on one, i fear it won't be good enough or say enough or convey what i hoped or look amatuerish or...the list is endless. just to finish anything right now would be a major undertaking. perhaps the problem is that i've spent every waking spare moment (and a few on the doze) in the studio...staring at these half-hearted half-started projects. perhaps i need sensory input of other sorts in order to channel them through my vision. perhaps i need to cut through the mess that keeps whispering that no good deed goes unpunished...that the more i want something, the more unattainable it will become...coming closer each time to the goal, only to have the rug pulled out...the charlie brown football syndrome, i call it. did he ever learn? every time lucy held that football, he'd get running up to kick it and blammo - she'd pull it away at the last second and he'd be flat on the ground again. but i guess the lesson is that he did indeed keep running up to that football. if Charles Schulz was alive in front of me today, i would ask him to Just Once let charlie brown kick the fuck out of that pigskin and launch it through the goalposts touchdown game over he won. just to break this evil spell for the rest of us. so i apologize if it sounds like i'm whining...i'm not. and i don't feel like a victim, and am not looking for pity. i'm just working it out here with my fingers on the keyboard. both of them, having never learned to type properly. i don't know if it's a lack of...or too much of. i suspect too much of. i have ideas galore...enough to fill an etsy store - buy one! i see the finished piece in my mind. but to start means a committment to an idea and a process and what if? i repeat a mantra I Am Capable Of This as i pace the deck, once again scaring the neighbors...i ritualize my studio experience with a particular song, and some incense...i stare at my art supplies and threaten to throw them from the second floor windows and use that space for a nice recliner and plasma tv. and invariably they hear this and cackle back at me. i feel guilty sitting at the computer as it takes time from the studio. i get in studio-mode and suddenly remember i never called gail back to explain that the one-second call from my mother ended up a full drama and i didn't think 11pm was an appropriate time to re-call so i better shoot her an email to tell her so she doesn't think i'm an ass. i know though, come monday morning at 6:15am when the alarm goes off, i will have creativity and urges coarsing through me like St Elmo's fire. and as the clocks tick on the delivery dates for these projects, i am becoming more landlocked. send the coast guard. oy...enough introspection. any deeper inside and i'll turn inside out..oooo now there's an idea for a sculpture. and by the way...you may have noticed a lot more typos, and i apologize...this new computer has a spanky keyboard with the number pad on the right-hand side, and it just screws up my orientation. i am tired of backspacing, so if spellcheck doesn't catch it, i just don't care anymore. i realize that to the writers out there this is akin to petting a cat against the grain of fur growth, but cut me slack here. ok - back to pacing. L.

art trade

i am trading in art. i will be organizing my own religion: Linduism. it will be a fun religion without guilt or shame. and we will have cake. please let me know if you're interested, as i need a head count before i decide to throw my art supplies out the window as i travel 55mph down RT 81 and head Somewhere Else. it has not been my favorite day, artwise. oh the mannequin is doing fine...except for throwing a molten piece of plastic at my lip, so now i look like i have a major case of lip herpes. but that goes with the turf when you're wielding a power tool. can i say how much i heart my dremel?? enough to say "heart." the pseudo-dremel i was using was no comparison. and with the universal chuck, i feel downright butch. i just had The Viewing...pictures sent to me from the gallery of my piece in pieces. actually, it didn't look that badly damaged, which made me wonder how un-wonderful it was when i sent it. kind of like "well, how do YOU like your new haircut," kind of thing. of course, i only saw small areas. but i wonder if they were aware of how badly damaged my pieces look when they AREN'T badly damaged? which led me to the conclusion that perhaps beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and i am really nearsighted. see, i can't do "pretty." i tried. really. and those damn pink fairy wings of death are the closest i've ever come...to suicide. my soul spews out the junk in what i call Post Traumatic Assemblage. i get chills over rusty metal and weathered wood. anything copper is a delight to my eyes and i must own it. i have to have something to say when i make art, even if the message is not apparent to the beholder...it is to me. so i had invested a big chunk of that voice in this piece, and actually was able to let it go off into the world. and it was actually supposed to end up as a gift. then some ass of a fedex person threw it on a belt thingie somewhere and now....well you know the rest. and i'm done with that part. now to wait for a reply to see if the gallery people think it's salvagable, and if so - plan a trip to NH for a weekend. there are worse things. and maybe this religion thing will work out better anyway. i am not an upbeat enough person day-to-day to fit into the art world, i suspect. i am like the lemony snickett of art...things happen to me. they are Things That Only Happen To Linda. like molten plastic flying off a dremel at warp speed and striking the inside INSIDE i tell you of my lip. i am a walking disaster zone at times...like the cloud around Pig Pen in charlie brown? that is my weird zone. my life is a rickety zen circus. and so that is why i feel qualified to begin my own religion. i understand. i have probably been through ANYthing you can experience, so when you come to me for counsel, i will shake my head knowingly (and snicker under my breath) and know how to advise you. i will offer penance in the form of pedicures and weekend retreats in wonderful places. (TBD). the only sin, per se, will be housework. and believe me i have not visited that particular sin in some time. i could go on and on here, but a religion has to have some mystery, so trust me on this. it will be very cool. i need a logo and an icon now. and a tiara, i think. most religious leaders have some sort of headgear. well...see there...it's working already! i feel much better just THINKING about Linduism. maybe i'll offer a special deal for the first 10 communicants or something. hmm. tempting. peace be with you. L.

do not tell the amish...

kicking and screaming, i have joined facebook. i don't know why...i have no clue what the etiquette or rules or purpose is of facebook. i am a lemming. i figured i needed a new way to feel insecure...i mean, are you judged by how many people friend you? what if no one friends me? and what if they do?? i barely have time to return emails and post here. i have a naked mannequin in front of me, a constant whine about not enough art time, last year's birthday present for angelfriend staring at me, a piece of art that got delivered to NH in, well, pieces, a gypsy woman on the west coast who persists like a terrier with a bone PERSISTS in waking me up at dark o'clock, and a dog with potty issues. it's a full life. but there i am. on facebook. i would have thought that i was available by phone, mail or email to anyone who cared. and vise versa. and when i joined, i had a million (give or take) people just waiting for me to friend them. i have no idea who some of these people are. am i obliged? will it hurt their feelings? and my name isn't even right because apparently i started to fill out the form before and said nah, but it registered anyway. does that make me a fake friend? my head could spin off and take flight right about now. and now i see a friend (in real life) on there has a different last name again and i thought she was just going to visit the guy for a week. for the love of God. and what about old fashioned mail?? the feel of the paper, the handwriting, the sensory goodness of a letter or card...i got a card in the mail yesterday, and i swear to you i giggled...someone took time to find this card, write a note in it, put it in an envelope, find a stamp, and mail this to me...because although they are busier than satan at a strippers convention, she knew it would make me giggle like the ice cream man just dumped his inventory on my driveway. i just carried it around for a while without opening it...just savoring it. i know - i am a dork. and that is why you like me. so i am apparently attached to the entire world electronically like 6 degrees from kevin bacon, but honestly, i almost crave the days of the 5-cent phone call from a real phonebooth. i'm going back to my own world. there is safety in geometry. i'm going back to square 1. someone grab my frye boots and tie dye. peace. L.

free association

...because not much is free anymore....i need your thoughts...post or email them to me please...when you think of "cage" what comes to mind? (besides Nicholas)...a prison? safety? a cozy place to cuddle? think of the structure...the think of what the implication could be....talk among yourselves. then tell me. i am re-doing miss mannequin. i was almost done, and went kanoodling around the web, found a video by a BFF and LO! there was an eerily similar idea. hers, of course. now, i don't remember seeing it before (hell, i can't remember the first line i just wrote) but i know i MUST have seen it at one time. so...i begin again. and i have a trillion ideas that i want to bring to life, but they keep coming back to a similar (yet different than before) theme. so help me whittle this. plus, i want to know how far from center i really am. and as a bonus for helping, i won't regal/bore you with the incredibly horrific day i had yesterday...it set the bar for horrificality. L.

update on the mannequin...please hand me the flamethrower. i am seriously thinking of trading in my art wings for something more practical and less frustrating....like, maybe doing call-in horoscopes and fortune telling. i mean, Miss Cleo is still doing time, right? maybe I could nudge in on her corner a little. on the way to my Lake, I pass an ice cream stand called Cleo's...i figure it's like the Ice Cream of the Future that they sell at the fair. hmm..maybe i could do Margaritas....yeah - Karmaritas. brilliant! by the time people figure out it's a plain old margarita, they'll be plotzed. okay. perfect. now...to order glassware, an apron, and does anyone know how to make a margarita?

i did SO just spend 45 minutes here. you will too. just wait and see. and read the descriptions. hoot!

it's hot. very hot. and very humid. and this morning i became incredibly frustrated that my spanky new Universal Chuck wouldn't screw onto my dremel. much profanity ensued, destroying any zen moment of peace in my studio. finally i said "Shut The Front Door" to my inner Tim Allen, grabbed my dremel, and the Universal Chuck and headed straight back to Loews to make THEM do it. there was a woman working in the tool dept...refreshing. she looked at it for, oh, maybe a nano-second and advised me that the dremel UC is the only non-Universal part. do wah? it seems that, in bold RED letters on the side of my rotary handheld tool, it says Ryobi. der. no - double der. oy so now what?? i hate to admit it. i bought another handheld rotary tool that says dremel on it...rather, Dremel. Queen of the craftsperson's tools. and it was right then and there that i realized i still had more lessons coming in patience and trust. chill runs through my body. those are not easy lessons for someone with an alphabet soup of chemical persuasions running through them. sigh. but i love hardware places. little mom & pops, big huge chain stores...anywhere where there's a smell of lumber and sawdust and shiny things to captive my eye...nuts, bolts, doohickies that do god-knows-what. if Stacey & Clinton showed up at my door and told me what not to wear, i'd say You Are Right. now, where is Ty Pennington. it's no secret i have a thang for him. not just his cutedtude, but his tool-itude. and as i wandered through the aisles, eyes glazed, i realized that i have once again outgrown my studio. so, as i hunt for more spacious digs, i must still work here in this configuration, so today is organization day. my usual M.O. is to just go buy a bunch o' organzation-type things...i keep sterlite in business, although i don't like the plasticy asthetic. it makes sense though, when you're trying to corral a ton or two of greasy, rusty metal. and my tools are all over the place. or i should say WERE all over the place. they now have a little spot all their own...a niche that fits the tool organizer i bought exactly. exactly. as if this niche was just waiting for this specific organizer. i am teary over this. i tried organizing my metal stuff, but that is confounding...small, medium, large?? rusty, non-rusty?? nails, hinges, doo dads?? but oddly, i have a mental inventory of everything (somewhat) and kind of know where the part i need will be. maybe-ish. and that is close enough for me. so if you need a not-a-dremel tool that works perfectly fine but will not accept a Universal Chuck...let me know. because i do not have room for 2 of them. i needed to step away from my mannequin project...i did something to it last night that i've been debating over. i just did it, finally. and i hate it. and it's a big hate...like a start-over-almost hate. it stands in the middle of my studio, so i have to look down and squeeze around it in order to not look. but i won't. i'm giving it time off for bad behavior, and will look again later. ok - break time's over. time to round up the ratchets. i'm feeling all zen-like again and sipping some incredible tea. note to dremel: rename the mofo part...it is not Universal...one size does not fit all. like many things in life and my closet. L.

click it. i'm still speechless. talk among yourselves. i'll give you a topic authentic vs. authenticity...which is harder?

regarding friends

first some housekeeping: the dog still smells...the house still smells...the cat has been renamed houdini for his uncanny ability to open large sliding doors to gain access to the world. now for the friends...through many circumstances this summer, i have chosen, or been forced, to think about friendships...what makes them tick...what makes them wonderful...what makes them change. i have been blessed with some incredible friends...male & female...and certainly not out of anything i've brought to the table this past year...and i hope that each person knows how very much i cherish them...it has been a difficult year to be my friend - the constant drama...the physical challenges that knock me down...the fight back up that creates a determined frenzy in my bee bonnet...and yet, for the most part, you understand and accept these things as "me" and sometimes even more so than i accept them of myself. some friendships have cooled, others gone away completely, and these are like a death that grips me with deep mourning, even though it may have been a mutally agreeable handshake. let me explain that i fight each day to get out of bed - the constant pain from fibromyalgia and the memory loss and fog...the comatose fatigue from CFS...throw in a sprinkling of migraines and of course, a little neurosis and it's a cocktail hell-bent on destruction from time to time. now, i don't tell you all this to invite you to a pity party, or play victim...it is what it is. but rather to say that it is a challenge being myself at times, and i recognize that it is a challenge being you trying to be a friend to me. and yet you are. you see all that stuff, yet don't "see" it...you see "me" and for that you get a gold star and the deepest love that i can give...my heart is yours...my hand is yours...for you have made me strong just by being my friend and by knowing when i need to go slow, or stop for a bit, or kick it into gear like maybe there is no tomorrow. so this is sounding a lot sadder than i intended...my intention was to say that i am amazed by you...your accomplishments...your strength...your life...your expertise at high hurdles and evasive maneuvers...and for what it's worth, you have my undying loyalty and friendship...i will be there for you two-fold...you can call on me any time...you are my friend. simply put, yet complexly practiced. thank you. L.

nature-gotta love her

so the thunderstorms have been loud and violent. that means diva has spent quite a bit of time under the bed or in the tub hiding. 2 nights ago at 2:15am, there was a break in the action...no angels bowling...she wakes me up to go out, since she hadn'y peed in a while. she made her way across our fenced yard to her privacy potty area, and i walked across our deck (4" off ground) to trip the motion lights in case a possum or God-knows-what is out there. as i made my way to the corner, something caught my eye a moment too soon...PPPPFFFFTTTT! stinky cat a/k/a skunk. i am covered. diva, sensing excitement...er - smelling it, actually, comes tearing across the yard. without thinking, i shuck off my befouled bathrobe, and grab her before the little striped bastard can reload. husband hears the commotion and comes running downstairs ...a spotlight in one hand and a Ruger in the other. (read back a bunch o posts - i live with a hillbilly). so there we stand...in the backyard of a very upscale (til we moved in) residential area...naked...stinking...and him with a gun in his hand...me hissing "don't shoot it" and all of us with tears running down our faces, courtesy of a very small, VERY stinky skunk. i run to the downstairs bathroom with diva, who has a residual stink on her by now, and begin a process not to different from Norma Rae in that famous scene from the movie. husband sits outside, still naked, waiting for the thing (skunk) to show itself and meet it's maker. 5:30am, back to bed for a few more minutes of sleep before manic monday. husband finally comes to bed, but now he stinks...the humid air held the droplets of skunk spray and they are clinging to him like a scared kid at nursery school. our house, having finally recovered from the dead-thing-under-the-fireplace smell, is now hazy with skunkstink. AND and we cannot open the windows because..yes...it has begun to storm again. i was glad to go to work. i kissed the ground, the very unvacuumed carpet, when the computers crashed at 3pm, and i was able to leave at 5pm like everyone else, rather thnan 7pm like...oh, just me. do not come to my house for a while. trust me. today is tuesday. i am hoping to have left all that behind me, and promise not to forget and wear my rain galoshes to work again today. L.

some done - some in progress

The Longing

Music by David Newman, sung by Mira...Radhe Suite I, The Longing....Lake by God

here's a brain teaser for you...why is it that when an artist has a momentary blockage, they doubt themselves as an artist altogether? ok - let me rephrase that...i am wondering why, when i have a day in the studio that's much less productive than i'd like, why do i begin to have self-doubt that inspiration will ever return? no, let me rephrase that...why did i take a day off work to stare at a mannequin that may cost me $1800 to ship across country and not glue, nail, burn, cut or otherwise schmutz it up? nada. and why, i ask rhetorically since i know the answer, do i then wonder what i will do with all these art supplies and rusty metal when i (once again) give up art entirely? tomorrow. gotta love mom for her stick-to-it-tiveness..."maybe it's not meant to be." which re-flamed me. after listing all the famous people who failed many many times before hitting the Big One...Thomas Edison, Ben Franklin (invented the $100 bill AND the five-and-dime store), my personal hero Albert Einstein, after listing all these people who surely must have goofed up once or twice along the way to creating light, and relativity theories, and all other manner of important Thought, she said, well i just hate to see you waste a good day off. i am caught here, in this parallel universe. it's like a mork and mindy thing sometimes. i wonder at times who my real parents are. and if, indeed, i am from that genetic stock that can simmer down the sauce to it's simplest form, to create a beautiful reduction from the most complex ingredients, why then do i insist on fighting the inevitable? why don't i just sit on a scratchy plaid couch on the porch with Jesus on the 8-track player (volume 11) wishing away all the sin i encounter? why do i fight that? is it inevitable? should i just let it all go now, and save myself years of potential Big Thought? not like Thomas Edison, Big Thought, but a thought bigger than myself, perhaps. just give a huge exhale like i've been holding my breath for 52 years...a huge WHEW and as i exhale, i am suddenly wearing lavender stretch pants, a sensible haircut, rockports with arch supports, and a large gold-like cross around my neck. it would be like the nutty professor, in a way. so here i go ranting, and you know i'm only half-kidding...i love my mother, and i accept that she exists in a world of her own creation where it's safe and dependable and anything that wrinkles that is from satan. apparently, i am frequently satan's puppet, but not as much as when i was younger. so there's that to point to and be proud. i could just go on, but you'd think i was making most of it up, so i will stop here. and besides, it doesn't seem christian to shine a little light on the woman who is grandmother to my diva dog...the only person other than myself that diva has never bitten. dogs know things, AND they have a Red Phone to God. i'm betting on the lottery tonight, so i don't want to piss Anyone off. and i'm hoping diva can put in a good word. i tried doing that animal communication with her...god knows i was able to figure out my first husband...a dog shouldn't be that much harder...but i can't figure out how to translate "lottery" into terms a dog would understand..."many many many good girl bones and toys and no kitties but lots of bunnies to play with," just hasn't worked. so there goes that career. and to be honest, Cesar Millan has that market pretty well cornered. is he not highly attractive? as is his wife. i'm just sayin. oy bad dog. so i wish i would have paid better attention in misty's class last year, because i could sure use some help on this design element for the aforementioned million-dollar mannequin. i may just shove her in a coffin (the mannequin - not misty), say she's my aunt, watch as they respecfully load her into the cargo hold of the first jetblue outta here, and set my watch back a little on my way out to the west coast. and unless the plane goes down...my "aunt" will arrive in 1 piece. so that's niggling at me too. i know i'll pay out the snout for shipping. i knew that and planned for it, so it's no surprise and i don't care. it's just that there are only 50/50 odds that she will arrive there in the same condition that she left in. oy...and then there's the return trip. good lord. hopefully there won't be a return trip. i'll have to talk to the dog about that too. ok then goodnight. L.

so here i am...another wednesday off...it's a legal day off - i took a personal day to rock out on some art that's been facing me down. diva went to gramma's for the day...car is in the shop for inspection...cat is lazing on the upper deck...it's all about me. and 1000 projects that all need completion at the same time...a mug of Bengal Spice tea perfumes my studio, mingling with Jai Uttal and Loreena Mckennitt... last night i realized i still had to name my september show, get postcards printed and mailed and and and. oy. good oy. an eagle flew over diva's pond this morning...beautiful...graceful...divine...powerful...left over from last night's magic when we took a chance on mosquitos, coyotes and a stray bobcat, and walked over to the pond just as dusk was closing it's eyes for the night. a huge fireball in water was mesmerizing...reflecting a hazy, huge orange full moon...a fish splashed in it's turnaround and diva sat staring at the water, a huge, contented sigh. the air was charged with freesia from my neighbor's garden...making it's way through the trees to us...an owl hooted a call from the west waiting till it heard response from the east...above us bats flew silently, dancing above the treetops then dipping low toward the water...nature's night crew punching the timeclock...it's good...so very good...to connect with the earth again...

smmmmack down

ok so wasn't it just yesterday...or earlier today (who can remember??) that i showed you an image of the front exterior of my mannequin?? wasn't it? somebody say amen, yes sister. okay. well...fuggetaboutit. my muse: la la la la oh beautiful music la la hear my gentle voice la la HEY! YEAH YOU! just STEP aside already move back get away SIT...are you NOT listening? are you NOT?? oy vey for the love of yeshewah go go now. ME: huh? der? Muse:not like THAT! like THIS...this is what i've been saying if you clean the potatos out. Me:oohhh....oooohoohoo (kramer-esque). followed by rip rip tear scrape printer printer printer. Muse:and put some music on...Prince, Mary J, get the brain moving! ** so, needless to say, please disregard the other image. it will be a hanging collage, not to fear. i love it. however, the new & improved exterior of the mannequin...well, it's spankier and fits the message a lot better. who knew?? nu? oh and by the way...no bad kitty....actually, dead wild things. they crawled under a space from the outside that goes to the inside under our fireplace. and died. i'm glad they trusted us and felt safe enough with us to spend their final moments with us, but i'm really pissed off that they did. this will be must more involved than a simple carpet shampooing which seemes laughably like a day in an ice cream factory compared to what may now need to be done. i can only hope the neighbors don't goad you-know-who into a DIY project. L.

okay - i just wrote an epic post and it's GONE. just the image remains. so i'll just tell you that the image is a sneak peek of the exterior front part of my mannequin. i'm too ticked off at losing the rest of this to go on, so goodnight. Linda

i live in an ammonia factory. i opened the door to the house yesterday and almost needed to call 911. the cat...this is the good cat, mind you, had spent the day amusing itself by urinating on any surface that it could straddle up on. it has been hot. and humid. and the house has been closed up. i cannot begin to tell you how little i am enjoying this cat right now. so now saturday will be spent dragging a Rug Doctor around. and if it reoccurs sunday....kitty will be going to the spca. i regret it...don't like it. but cannot live like this. i am willing to time my comings and goings around diva's kidney clock, but to have to worry about the potty habits of every living being in and around my house is just way more intensive than i have time for. i have asked everyone - even strangers on the street- if they want a cat. this is a very good-natured cat. he is lovely and i bonded with him. but. and if the spca is full, then i will freak out. this spca, by the way, doesn't have a clock ticking for death row. so...for real ...if you would like a kitty, now is the time to step forward. i have a feeling it's an alpha thing with diva. cats rule, dogs drool...that sort of thing. my house is difficult enough to come home to without feeling like we should replace the doorknobs with flush handles for a toilet. i'd say i'm pissed, but that would be a very bad unintentional pun. maybe ebay....okay kidding. so...anyone? buhler? Linda

good lord i'm old!

when, i ask, WHEN did i become my mother?? it was way before i wandered the street downtown with my yoga instructor on one side of me and maryann on the other as i tried to remember where i parked. my mind was blank. as blank as it was 30 minutes previous when itried in vain to remember my PIN number. i worry about alzheimers. in these moments, an icy terror grips me thinking about it. clare, ever the namaste one, asking me "what do you remember seeing right before you parked?" " a no parking sign." this wasn't going well. i would have to wait till every last person left downtown to find my car. then THEN today i get a forwarded email from a girl i went to high school with, and worked with in radio briefly. where is Linda? she asks. our 35th high school reunion is next year and i'm on the committee. 35?!? since when did they skip over the 15-34th ones? i cannot possibly be going to a for-real 35th reunion. and the only person i'll recognize will be Willy, (now William) who i had a mad crush on from 7th - 9th grade, and is now the manager at the gi-normous grocery chain store where i shop, and often looking like i was just dredged from Onondaga Lake (the nations #1 most polluted...Go Syracuse!) and trying to skulk behind the mangos till he walks past. once in a while i take some effort in the contact lens and mascara dept and wear an actual outfit, then go to that store for no other reason than hoping he'll see that i'm not some hopeless mess of a former classmate. usually it's his day off. you know how there was always That Girl..the one who taunted you or beat you up or stole your boyfriend or some other hideousness we girls visit upon each other when we are young and haven't learned to posse up...you know, THAT one? why, i ask, why am i always similarly dressed when i see her? not that i even care or remember why i feel all furious when i see her, but why am i always in the midst of some embarassment? it's so true what they say - that you have to get over your 7th grade self before you can become the self you were meant to be. 7th grade was killer. i'll never know why 7th grade. but it was. and it seems to be a shared experience . maybe it's a hormonal thing. who knows. that was the year i became a rebel, mostly inside, because i wasn't sure what to do with my thoughts outside. so it was a delicate balancing act. with a few tips. so, i ramble here. but anyway, as if my 50th birthday didn't get me thinking about age, and the end of the trolley ride...now THIS ...this reunion thing. oy. i have no idea what to wear. L.