ok, i just want this ... #114. drool

help

please...if you know a cure for a deep, grepsing cough that won't go away...please let me know. i swear i've cracked ribs coughing. my throat is aflame. you'd think i'd have 6=pack abs by now, but no - the same 12-packs. i am exhausted.

I'm half back...still feeling punky after the flu monster turned and made a second grab for me on saturday night. i am just sick of being sick.i don't mind as much in the winter when we're snowed in anyway, but summer...unfair! i took 2 days off work and dragged myself through the rest of the week, going in for a while on saturday - despite my rule. today i slept in and took my time getting to the Dr. i'm past the weepy "why me" stage and just downright P.O.'d that this bug has lodged in me. i give my immune system pep talks and down the cough medicine like an addict. all i could think about was my pillow today. then i got home, and there was a wag attached to a very precious little dog that stood guard over me the past few nights. okay - a Big Walk through the woods was in order. it was cool as we wandered through the beechwoods, listening to the cicadas droning and watching the dragonflies play in the wildflowers & darting across the pond. i will surely miss this. Diva stopped every so often, looking up at me for a pet and flattery. despite her social skills (none) she is My Love. i have art swirling in my brain, fueled by cough syrup dreams and inactivity. i bought some crazy wonderful yarn yesterday, and despite the heat, am dying to let the rhythm of knit-purl-knit-purl lull me. i don't want this summer to end, but am wishing away my days anyway for september. my New Bike sits idle in the garage waiting til i can take breath with a coughing fit. i feel guilty about the Stinger, sitting in the attic, but the new one is very spanky. i'll have to take a Lake ride soon. ok - this is all i have energy for. send me some chicken-soup-love for healing! L.

i'm sorry for the post delay ....i am still sick

They came to sit & dangle their feet off the edge of the world & after awhile they forgot everything but the good & true things they would do someday. -wisdom from the StoryPeople

in my feverish state, as the stepson and his father battled it out through f-bombed laced notes left on the counter, i have re-found and re-claimed my power. maybe "power" is too strong a word, but maybe not. after spending countless hours and smudged fingers looking through the Houses For Rent section of the paper, i realized - they could go. it would be the most sensible thing - i have a studio here and a dog and a fenced yard. i don't work out of town 3 weeks a month, nor do i leave for college in the fall. so i left Them a note advising them of the house rules. they could accept or leave. what a rush of reclamation. where have i been hiding all this time, eggshell-walker? a by-chance comment by mother, and a Nyquil-induced dream of who i was/am, and BAM. so the house is silent, with 2 men on tippy toes...one doing mad laundry and the other hopefully cleaning a disgusting & horrifically smelly room. i have promised a heavy load for the garbage men in the morning - anything not in it's place will be heaved. along with any drugs/alcohol found anywhere in or around the house. from either of the men in this house. i am done. ROAR. now back to a nap.

am clearly feeling a little better and have ants in my pants - comments please on the new background....yes? no?

sorry for my absence....i have the flu...be back in a few days

oy vey...it's a conspiracy i tell you. the power went out again last night just as i was preparing an epic post about how good things can be! so scrap that. being Amish for 5 hours in this heat has me grumpy. plus my alarm clock battery died from all the use LAST week, so i had to stay up past my bedtime to set my alarm when the power came on. sounds strange, i know...like, wake up it's time for your sleeping pill. that DID happen to me in the hospital once. so i'm off to meet my Friday. work again tomorrow - it's the 1 saturday a month i promised i'd do. have a great day y'all, and do not ever take electricity for granted!

the miracle of Poetry

There is a wine...a very expensive wine...a $2,000.00 bottle of wine...called Poetry. every year for our anniversary, and occasionally on New Year's Eve, my husband and I go to the Brewster Inn in Cazenovia for dinner and/or an overnight in Room #2. (picture #6 if you follow the link and go to "gallery"). it's the one with the rooftop balcony overlooking the lake. A few years back, as I made my way through the buffet line at breakfast (Highly recommend), my eye wandered behind the omelet maker guy and there I saw what was to become the object of my obsession: a hardwood box with the word "Poetry" burned into it, containing a $2000.00 bottle of wine. it was the box i wanted. i ordered a "whatever" omelet - couldn't concentrate - had to have the box. then it got worse - behind the salmon and crabcake station, perched in a small shrine-like alcove...another box...different, but equally as desirable: Old Ghost. in a coffin-shaped hardwood box. and so began my water torture of the Innkeeper...every time we went, i would innocently ask if they had any extra boxes of Poetry or Old Ghost left over....from what who knows?? like P. Diddy just happened to yacht up to their back door and order the wine, but didn't want the box. who wouldn't want the box?? Old Ghost was only $300, but still. so this morning, husband and I went to brunch. and there were the two boxes staring at me. i advised my husband that i would setting my napkin on fire to create a diversion (after we ate) and would be snatching the box. i would leave the wine. i've had Very Expensive wine before. it was usually overrated. and the value of just the box was negligable, thus avoiding a felony, just a misdemeanor. as husband was paying, i wandered to the front of the Inn, and asked the desk person (again) about the possibilty of an empty box. she directed me to Kirk, the Wine Guy and Host. Kirk, although sympathetic, was not to be moved. so with a moment of silence, and a great sigh and big eyes, i thanked him and went outside. i began walking to the car, just grateful for a nice day, and a fantastic meal. from behind me i hear "Ma'am?" i don't usually answer to that, but turned, and there was Kirk with A BOX IN HIS HANDS! POETRY! the $2000 box with wine in it! he remembered - someone DID order the wine and didn't want the box. i couldn't speak. i just couldn't speak. for a minute anyway. then i told him he had no idea what that meant to me. and he doesn't. or maybe he suspects, but to an assemblage artist, this box is like finding the Holy Grail. i am terrified to use it just yet...afraid i may screw it up. i'll wait till the dust bunnies of the idea are more solid. until the certainty that my work will honor the great gift that was given me. and i will dedicate it to Kirk. is this not the perfect box?? ok. in other news...here is a necklace i've been working on...sorry for the blur. maybe i can find a box with a new camera in it....

recommended reading

no - required reading. The sweet, sweet spirit of Squam - in a handy take-along. seriously, you have heard me go on and on about my weeks at Squam. The Journal is a way to share that with you. now you'll know why i'm good for nothing til the end of September!

i'll be here for a bit...

vampires & scary things

i will let you in on a secret: the economic woes have finally hit the netherworld - yes vampires, wolfmen, and zombies in particular. they have been forced to take night jobs at my local grocery store where i saw them With My Own Eyes stocking shelves, cashiering and bollixing up the wheels on the carts for the sport of it. yesterday was so hot, i decided to wait til evening to go grocery shopping. there was just a moldy smidge of cheese left and nothing else Nothing Else. youngblood, who has mutated into Locust Boy, is training for a triathlon (the real kind, as opposed to the former drink/drug/whine event he lived with authenticity for the past bunch-o-years). and some in the family are so thrilled that he has an involvement that keeps his hands away from the devil's playground (at least during the day)that they are willing to do anything to support this new endeavor. apparently, the rigors of training require that he consume a minimum of 2K calories a day. this is pretty much everything in the fridge. so that's monday. on tuesday he moves on to the freezer. okay, but back to my story about zombies. this explains why i felt compelled to go to the grocery store at 8pm, knowing it would be a long trip. now, another back story, if you have the patience. a few months ago, i bought a car - old one said "enough already." so in panic of now having car payments, i switched grocery stores to the one with fewer choices, but way lower prices, and you get a discount on gas if you swipe your Member Savings Card at certain gas stations (i'm getting 90-CENTS A GALLON OFF THIS WEEK !) so i switched. and i save like crazy. there are certain trade-offs, like they think cilantro is one of those rich girl vegetables and don't stock it, and, of course, the zombies. so after hauling this cart around the store for 2 hours - and i am not a dawdler when i shop - two hours, i finally hit the dairy area and realized i had to either CARRY the 2 dozen eggs, or perch them precipitously on top of the heap-o-food. my back hurt, i was pre-nervous about leaving the store in the now-dark, and i wanted to just leave the fucking cart there and go have a good cry somewhere, preferably somewhere with a jacuzzi. by this point, the cart wouldn't really turn, anyway. i had to heave it around corners. all i needed was one more item...Good Seasons mix for salad dressing. that was a must, as husband is making a pasta salad for the neighborhood BBQ today. i broke down and asked some kid who was shedding great bits of dandruff and DNA, and he pointed. the cashier was not happy - apparently i snuck in just before she hit her "go the fuck away i'm going to smoke and call my boyfriend" light. now, you would think, maybe just me, you would think that when a cashier saw that the cart was loaded up like MoFo Mt Kilimanjaro she would ask Dandruff Boy or another zombie to go get her ANOTHER cart, so she could scan/bag/load THAT cart, rather than have scanned bags all smooshed up at the end of her register waiting for MY cart - which was obviously going to take an expedition to spelunk to the bottom of. so i made the suggestion and it was like the holy grail of information to her. i know she will take that idea and use it in the future. so we got through the heap together, and as soon as i awoke from my faint after seeing the price total, she asked if i might need help getting the carts to my car and Out Of Her Life. i did, as i now had TWO carts and NO idea what was in them, having been in the store So Long. the Cart Person came over. now a few of those pre-evolutionary thoughts ripped through my head and gut like lightning. i wanted the companionship of SOMEone in the dark parking lot with two TWO fucking cartloads of groceries...just not HIM. picture, if you will, your stereotype of a zombified ax-murderer having a really really bad day. who knows what qualifies a "bad day" for him, but it was clear that whatever happened, distracted him from his routine and he forgot the hygiene portion of his dayprep altogether. and he wants to walk me through the dark parking lot to my car. what can i do? say, "umm sorry - do you have someone else? someone who has never been across the rainbow bridge, or been in prison?" because by then, i knew the answer would be NO and i would have then pissed off werewolf who had a firm grip on the germ-infested handle of my cart #1 and was pleased to be of service. oy. so we pushed the carts out to the car like a happy couple, and i made of mental list of all the things i wanted to do but hadn't, and then (BEFORE i opened the trunk) bid him adieu. i have never thrown groceries in the trunk of a car so fast. called husband and advised that i was in No Mood and there better be a welcoming party waiting in the driveway to unload, because i was going upstairs to shower. and that is how i save money on groceries every week.

When I grow up, I want to remember that I always wanted to be about a thousand different things & one lifetime didn't seem nearly enough. When I grow up, I hope it's at the very end when it doesn't matter anymore anyway. -Brian Andreas StoryPeople

we have no need for a front door at my house...i'm in early, tucked under warm covers and ready for bed before dark, even. meanwhile husband sits and surfs the web or hangs by the bonfire with collected neighbors. he just hits his snoring REM around the time i get up. and somewhere in the middle, youngblood is stumbling in. so the house is in constant movement, with each of us working a different angle on the clock. i get to wake up the world, as i say to Diva. Kita loved morning walks...with our 3am or 4am walks being the best in the summer. depending on which radio station i worked at, the wake up call was much earlier than anyone else in the world would think about aa cup of coffee and a hot shower. he was wired like me - very early riser and very early to bed. Diva - not so much...i have to pry her off the bed at 6am to go potty. but she's up half the night barking away anything that could possibly be a monster, waking me with a tap-tap-tap of the paw, in case i managed to stay in na-na land through her show of fierceness. no real point here, i guess, just early morning rambles. i said i get up - didn't say the grey matter was engaged! i have a desire to retire in 2 years. i originally wrote "plan" rather than "desire" but changed it because i don't have a plan. but i do have a strong need and desire. so i think this weekend, i maybe should start thinking of a plan. my "independence day" plan, where i plan for my independence. there are a lot of contingencies required...what if my living situation changes? what if...? but if i don't start putting some rebar into this dream/desire/plan, then in 3 years, i'll still be having this conversation with myself. i think i need to talk to a very brave woman who just took a LifeLeap herself. the whole 5 W's is what i need from her...and not the glossanova dance of "universal light and Being/just leap" version...i want to know the gritty, dirty bits of what made the decision grow legs...how did she plan (that word again)...what was the tipping point...sort of compare tolerance points with a person i consider similar. jobwise. lifewise. it's all mostly good here...just like to know i have a roadmap, then i can turn my worrying toward something else. not related topic: i met the most wonderful woman a few weeks ago. and among other things, she does henna tattoo work... mehndi. i have a feeling she & i will be spending many hours together pretty soon. i have an idea for a work i'd like to have...down my spine, and then around my waist to meet at my navel. the story is that for most of my life, i was totally underweight...i skated (ice) and that kept the pounds down. if i hit triple-digits on the scale then it meant i had heavy shoes on. real heavy shoes. then time, and quitting smoking and starting menopause and working at a sedentary job and being too tired to exercise...all those things conspired against me and i am now 40 pounds above what i feel comfortable with. since today marks the 1st day of trying to quit smoking AGAIN, there may be an additional few pieces of junk loadin' my trunk soon. so as i looked in the mirror after i showered the other day, i thought - when did i get so body-aware? and all that tangle of thoughts/lies etc. and i thanked my body for taking me where i needed to go every day, and marveled at the fact the Very Fact of the operational systems contained within this body (and yours too), and how a human is grown from POOF! next to nothing. and i wanted to find a way to honor my body and thank it for putting up with all the abuses i've thrown at it throughout the years (especially the 80's) and celebrate it's beauty and intricacy. so henna it will be. and by the way - my new job has taught me to make small goals ... i know how to do the big ones, being all grandiose in thought, but having a small goal as the end point seemed wrong. but anyway - my goals: to be smoke-free by August 15th, and to lose 10 pounds. i originally said 30 pounds, but realized that was another bigger goal. first the 10. then 10 more. then ... chips and salsa? oh. no. okay back to the point. sometimes, i think i speak for many, sometimes we feel (okay I feel) that in order for the brain to sit up and take notice and know that We Mean Business that we have to clear the decks or have a Huge Goal. i am discovering the beauty of Little Goals...highly attainable or a bit of a struggle, either way, it is the core goal without all the mishmash wrapped around it. it's actually a small piece of a Big Goal, but keeping the official goal as just this one piece gives you time to stop, reassess, keep going or change direction. you don't get bogged down in having to complete this giant task No Matter What. i think that's what stops a lot of beautiful ideas from being born...the hugeness of it all. just my opinion. now - the laundry's in, and it's time to hit my studio. a small goal accomplished. Enjoy your long weekend, and give a moment to being grateful for all there is for us here in America. L

wow. july 1st. it seems like time is just racing by. except, of course for the hours between 7am-5pm! actually those have been flying by too. i'm exhausted by 2pm and in bed by 8-9pm. youngblood actually called me "grandma" last night because of the early bedtime. i told him i'd wake him up at 5am and make him work all day at a job he doesn't know how to do, then check his excite-o-meter at 5pm. he declined. My garden is just exploding...hostas...roses...ligularia... a nice walk through my woods...time for reflection...