diva has no pride

my Diva...gotta love her...stepgirl came over tonight (you never know when they'll appear these days) and brought her kitty with her. i was upstairs at the time and heard Diva losing her little puppy mind downstairs, so i ran down to see what misery could have befallen her...it was banshee howling combined with this squeal, with a little pan flute added in for texture. not american idol material. it was Kitty! Friend! 4 legs like me! speaks my lingo! KittyKittyKittyKittyhowlKitty! kitty was a little freaked out. we got both settled for a while (nanosecond human time, hours in dog time), but Diva was shivering with the joy that only a dog can feel. i admit i was a little jealous...she normally launches at me when i come home from work (or even a few minutes in the garage), but Nothing Like This. pure adoration. BFF. we tried to explain to her that kitties don't greet in the same way dogs do, but she was undeterred. once the aquaintence was met, she followed that poor kitty around like a museum guard at a Joseph Cornell exhibit. the cat has tried to smoosh itself under everything, but Diva is right there. stepper was holding kitty, and Diva stretched her "sit nikki" neck as far as she could and gave her a gentle kiss on the nose. it's all good now. and she will sleep tonight! **so an incredible set of circumstances has wended their way into my life (as if my day-to-day isn't more than enough drama thank you)...this sudden re-opening (on a tentative level) of family connections. i think i mentioned before about talking to my uncle. and the pictures that were traveling virtually to me and between family members. well, today, i received a copy of a book written by a Jewish woman in Rochester called "our Future Begins With Our Past." Phyllis Kasdin is the author. pictures from her installation of memorabilia from "the old days" of Rochester when the founding fathers of the Jewish community there first arrived. pictures of the Orphans Home where my father was. i wanted to reach into the picture and open the huge front door ...go inside...meet my father when he was so very young. walk through the pages of the book...feel what it was like. i feel very connected. very grounded. less untethered. my history began the day i was born. my first memories as a child. it never reached back any further. things never spoken of in our house. even my mother knew very little. and now, as one of the few witnesses turns 90, it may be even harder to rescue that history. the things that kept my twig of the family apart from the trunk...hurts, miscommunications, misunderstandings now 30 years old...they seem a vast sea to swim. but i'm willing to take it one stroke at a time if that's what's needed. i grew up differently without their community...their familial tether. but wih the emails and pictures and now, this book, it feels like there IS someone out there who's shared some history with me. how absolutely sweet. as Diva must feel with another 4-legged fuzzy in the house. speaking of an incredible bond....grab a kleenex and watch this with your sound up.... http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=8cf08faca5dd9ea45513 L.

because you asked

i know i'm supposed to be on blog-break, but because you've asked / called / emailed....no, i am not sick, but thank you for being concerned. my marital conflicts are currently in remission, however short term...a brief truce while we step back from weapon words and have a moment to check out the scenery. a G2 conference, if you will. each finding a safe, quiet corner to go to. my nerves are raw, my eyes cried out, my stomach still braiding itself into macrame knots, and to complete the picture, a nasty skin rash has appeared on my hands and they are peeling like sunburned lobsters. (i guess you really should wear gloves when using flux remover). this all will come to resolution. the mystery is in which way the cookie will crumble. meanwhile, strangely, i've found solace in my art. yes - i did say that i AM making art. in all this mayhem. after a dry spell muse-wise, the chaos blew and my hands got nervous and needed something to do, somewhere to duck-and-cover, so they made busy. i will never understand my Self. ever. why these parts can't just get along. i am also completely under the spell of Georgia Popoff's poem, "Tears in Ball Jars." i will ask her permission to share it. find & buy her book...for real. ok....NOW....unless something of a catastrophic nature happens (other than the usual drama), i will be taking a break for just a bit for sure this time. i do not want to waste your time whining and complaining. L.

tune in again...

sorry for the erratic posting...i'll be taking a short break while life settles a bit...check back again in a week... until then, be kind to yourself and others. "courage," said the lion. Linda

entanglements, estrangements and the like

where to start? ok - the middle. soon after my father passed away in 1977, my mother, brother & i became somewhat estranged from dad's family. the issues were many, and seem understandable, yet silly now. a few years ago, my friend gail-who-never-calls found her family history on a small island outside of Clayton NY. This made me realize even more that i had no idea where my beginning was...family secrets kept locked tight prevented me from knowing much beyond the point where my parents met. even those circumstances were hazy. i had no sense of history...no sense of who i "took after." (although speculations were not always flattering. or printable). a few weeks ago, i emailed the one cousin that i have kept in touch with. sent her a scan of a family photo i thought she may want, since her mom was in it. she emailed it to the rest of the cousins, 2nd cousins, and probably even 3rd cousins. names in the forwarded replies that i didn't recognize. so sad. that prompted an email from my 90-year old uncle to me, saying he had some family pictures i may want - call him. funny - i can't remember from moment to moment why i walked in a particular room, but i remember my aunt & uncle phone number from when i was in kindergarten. hunh. so i called last night. and we talked for over an hour. once he realized how little i really knew, he began to spill the stories. he invited me to ask anything and "if i have an answer, i'll tell you. if i don't i'll tell you anyway." he was clear that he wouldn't GIVE me the pictures, but would find a way to copy them. treasures. i plan to visit him in the next few weeks to take him up on his offer. it has certainly been a complex and complicated week. i sit today at my worktable with beads and baubles and solder, and wonder what the lessons are. chaos always creates lessons, i've found. wheteher the lesson is to avoid chaos, or to step back, breathe, and not rush into (or out of) anything. so i'll take today to breathe and relax, and heal my heart and rest my body. and maybe learn a thing or two. and wonder who i'm taking after now. L.

speaking of courage....

this menopause stuff is not for sissies, let me tell you. i spent half the day yesterday weeping and griping at my husband, then the rest of the day feeling absolutely like a rotten shrew for weeping and griping at my husband. now, neither of us is without our weak points, but on the issues of the day - my reactions and responses were off the grid. so today, our anniversary, i left for work and he left for a week out of town on business. of course, i felt all upset about that, but also relieved that we would have time to take neutral corners for a while. can you imagine how i felt when the hugest bouquet of flowers arrived at my cube? with a note asking me to marry him? with sunflowers (my favorite), stargazer lilies (his favorite), 7 roses (our 7th anniv.) and other stuff? hopefully the baby's breath was just filler, and not indicative of any phone messages from my gyn that i may have missed! oy. and the weight gain in the worst places - well, as if ANY place is ok. and the never knowing when/if your period will just pop on by for a quick hello. and the fatigue. i could go on and on. to think this was what i spent all those years looking forward to after the shine wore off the whole GETTING your period thing. remember when girls you knew started getting their period? it was like some sort of special club. you'd wait and almost hope for your turn to clutch your stomach and beg off gym class. after a few months of that, it was no fun. no fun. and after a few years of that, you just looked forward to the day when it would just END. well, it comes with a few strings attached. and getting past that initial year or so is no easy thing for some. myself included. i go back to the gyn in a few weeks and will demand some sort of how-to book or manual or something. a group. a website. whatever. but give me good info and give me advice on how to make it through with the least amount of damage done to friends and family and self. most days it isn't even a thought. but on those days when the hot flashes are set on "hell" and i'm in my own private summer, and everyone seems to be standing on my last reserve nerve....that's when i need a menopausal 12-step to show me how. so if you've had to call my number at work in the past week, i do apologize - i really have gone all out to try to be nice. and normal. but it has not been easy. and i may have accidentally disconnected you. it was for your own protection. call again. feel lucky. so now i'm going to hug my Diva because i've been on the phone all night and feel weepy and guity for not playing with her and Pink Bunny (her new stuffed BFF). L.

courage

isn't she wonderful?

cherokee poem

from my friend, debbie: "IRON WOMAN" I knew I came from a different place, a story cut apart with scissors. I would find a piece of rust in the morning or a shape in a field through a fog. I would hear a broken language as if spoken by a woman with a bird's nest on her head, long pieces of iron welded for her buckskin. She wears a mosquito mask, a crooked twig for a nose. Her teeth sewn together with close white threads. I hear her small voice from the bird's nest on her head. It once lived in a pile of fallen limbs & brush hauled to the field to burn after an ice storm. Her voice rises in the trail of smoke & mixes with mine in air. It takes a while to speak with these two voices as it takes a while to walk on two feet each one going the other way.

oy what a day

ok...i'm so far past exhausted right now after an all-day/evening graduation party for stepgirl. i'll give you the short n sweet, and fill in tomorrow. got the GRANT!!! got a cat. big cat. fat cat. delivery date to be determined. that's all for now...there's so very much more. tune in tomorrow. sorry. Linda

why sleep / when the day / has been brought out by the sun/ from the night / 'cause the light's /gonna shine on everyone / why sleep / when the sleep / only closes up our eyes? / why sleep / when we can watch the sun arise? / we were meant to see / the beginning of the day / i believe it was planned / to lift us this way / take you an apple and take you a song / and watch a baby day be born / "why sleep?" i heard / and i followed it today / to the top of a hill / where the wind songs play / and i sing it like i heard it / why i heard? who knows why / why sleep when you can watch the sun arise?//
i woke up this morning with this old Melanie song swirling around in my brain. a very catchy tune. Melanie, made famous in the 60's (?) for "Brand New Pair of Rollerskates." with all the incredible lyrics to songs she had written, Rollerskates is probably the one most people are familiar with. so much the shame. anyway, my usual M.O. on stay-at-home days, is to get up at dark o'clock. today, i slept in till 6, poured myself some coffee and went out back. i sat with my toes in the grass, still dew damp, and listened while the birds gathered their day around them...calling to one another, locating companions and warning of territorial issues. the air smelled of a baby just waking from a nap. just before the sun warms it fully. the yellow daylillies still closed tight against night's chill, drowsy heads bent against their sturdy green stalks. then, a flicker of brilliance blossomed into a full slant of sunlight, peeking through the trees momentarily, then hidden in branches full with greens and yellows and silver. the day was waking. again, a song trailed through my thoughts...Cat Stevens...Morning has broken / like the first morning / blackbird has spoken / like the first bird / praise for them singing...etc // . and i wondered why these references from the past? was there a message, or simply the quirky firings of menopausal synapses dislodging something to make room? or (gasp) cleaning the mindhouse like a demonic housekeeper in full-blown ADD attack removing the last shreds of memoryclutter. you can find a message in anything - people see saints in french toast, after all. and i think what i realized is that in my attempts to re-focus and re-find my path, it was not necessary to offload the past ....just make peace and move on. or take the lessons learned and stow them in your knapsack for fortitude at another crossroad. for the most part, i have made peace with the past. and by making the lessons a companion, does not necessarily make them luggage that weighs me down. a lesson, once incorporated, become part of the whole...not an extra item to be dragged up to the counter for inspection whenever we travel to a new place. in the past year, i've unpacked and repacked my knapsack to carry only the essentials. only those lessons that carry the wisdom learned, and not the pain of the learning. for the most part. today, as i made a breakfast of the morning, i remembered how this morning ritual fulfilled me - sitting quietly and taking a cue from nature. birds do not have watches. or calendars. their obligations are much more profound than ours - find food or die. feed nestlings, or they perish. and yet. it becomes so much more complicated, doesn't it, when you compare our daily lives to that of a crow. and we are all working toward the same basic goals. looking at it from a bird's eye view, it is literally all in the perspective. yes, take care of essentials - food, shelter, carpools. but somewhere in there, we were meant to be creative creatures. (why else would we have been given thumbs??) (now that hitchhiking is a scary endeavor). so yes, there is the mundane, the annoying, the gotta-do stuff that makes up Everyday. but i have a hard time believing that we were created to become vacuum-ers and laundry queens and 9-to-5-ers. we may have become that, but there must still be a spark of remembrance to the time when it was our Spirit's command that we watch a baby day be born. have a Red Delicious day! L.

living authentically

this has been a thread running through my year. live Authentically. in case you've just joined in (and you really really should start at the very beginning), after last year's most magnificent gifts, i've struggled this year with overflowing schedules and the taming of my inner menopausal shrew. i've felt out of sorts since february. i've struggled recently with whether or not to go back to full time at the Big Girl Job. i've struggled with whether or not to leave it entirely. i've struggled with finding my footing and my Place. struggled struggle struggle. hmmm. clearly i need to just stop. breathe. stop struggling with my life and just ...be. let my life flow around me. through me. once again Be my life. stop with the worries and demands and frustrations of a thousand temporary situations. ask me what had my flame on high a week ago, and i probably won't remember. but at the time, i wasted precious time fretting and fuming. unlike what feels like Me. i always feel like an actor playing a role when i get so upset. as if i am reacting the way i "should," but it's as if i see that person from a different vantage point - looking down on me (with a lower-case "m") playing the role of fill-in-the-blank. and none of this has ever been Me. when i take a breath and visualize where i'd like to be, i come back to last summer....earth mother...centered. i see myself above all the shallow skirmishes. and when i visualize the essence of the Authentic me, there is always art. and of late, my art has deserted me. or perhaps it is still there, waiting. waiting for me to silence the racket so it can get a word in edgewise. the brain bouncing from this to that so fast, that the hands gave up. picture blind rage. Blind. Rage. i picture a dervish in a frenzy...chaos and confusion surrounds. no rational thought, just instinct and emotion. now quiet that down a bit.....replace the dervish with its opposite. the frenzy with calm. the scene shifts to a place that draws you in to sit by it's cool stream on the greenest grass....your feet dipping into the water....lilacs fragrant as the bees buzz through their purple and white blossoms...the sun warms your head. so much better. so very much better. what is gained through the dervish? much less than through calm. a more lasting result through calm. this weekend is again a weekend of obligations, as is part of next. this will signal the end of an overstuffed calendar. an end to the crack-high of chaos once again. because although the adrenaline rush of busy-ness is real, it offers no profit for the soul. and it must be fed constantly. a lesson i seem to learn over and over. i will breathe in the calm, and re-center myself. and watch as the synchronicity returns. L.

empty nest

They're all gone now...empty nest syndrome sets in. all week i've been rooting for Seneca - the last to fledge. Kaver & Mariah stopped in to offer support...brothers & sisters stopped by with encouragement...but nothing doing. Seneca would not leave the scrape. then this morning ....a few trial flaps and out onto the rail. then beside the box. then back in. aarrgghh! the minute i got home i checked, and YIPPEE! finally! can't wait to track their progress. L.

art show ecstasy

just home from the opening reception of the Schweinfurth show - and dinner after. if you came out...thank you! if you weren't able to make it, the show runs through 8/23 and it really is nice! i just felt humbled, in a way, that my work was included in this show. and a little scared. if i didn't make "the cut," then i could just go on piddling around. but this seems to change things. it's hard to explain. no - it's not an ego thing. at all. but it's more like authentication. more like "you can run with the big dogs." well, medium dogs. although there were 1 or 2 biggies. but it seems like i SHOULD be doing more to get out there. to see what everyone else is doing. to promote myself more. and it felt good to have husband see that i am not just the woman in the pink bathrobe burning her fingers on the soldering iron, or dremel-tooling her fingernail. it changed his perception a bit. and mine, as well. it was difficult, actually, for me. i felt such incredible gratitude for the opportunity. and it was hard for me to not gush all over the gallery director about how i felt. she has no doubt in her mind, believe me. and i think i managed to keep it down to a level where i had some pride left. being a socially anguished person to begin with, and being thrown into a totally unfamiliar situation...well, you can imagine. i'll spend the next few weeks reviewing every word spoken, and Why didn't I escort that person over to my piece like they were Totally hinting for me to do? and etc. But i do that anyway. i'm still wondering if i mingled enough at my birthday party. all in all NO ONE cares. but it's just the way i am. husband took me out to dinner after. his way of being proud of me. and it helped that people did come... and that a few strangers commented to me that they liked my work. it helped him to see me, and my art, through other eyes. and i think that's important for both of us. so, i'll process a little and sleep. and be back tomorrow. which promises to be a cake taker of a day. i am pre-stressing. the new computer system? which i haven't quite figured out? at all? like i can log on? and that's it? but there are people yelling on my phone for answers? and the best i can do is say I'll Call You Back? THAT new system. oy vey. mylanta for breakfast. L.

lipstick on the pig

is this a little easier on the eyes? which do you like better....new colors or old? vote now....vote often! Linda

workshop

so while we wait for flight....i am kanoodling a workshop idea, and will let you know when it's gelled and ready. it would be a semi-full day (timewise) ...involving making art dolls based on the Inner YOU. i don't want to divulge the details right now, as i'm still waiting on a Certain Someone to get on board, but i promise it'll be fabulous. and it will be held right here in my studio, with some time spent in the woods too. if you're interested in hearing more, email me or leave a comment, and i'll keep you in the loop. you do not need ANY art background or sewing background. none. i promise. (sorry - had to check flight status. i'm back). so today is another day jammed with errands and appointments. i just want 3 solid art days In A Row, please. this weekend is the opening of the Schweinfurth show, next weekend is girlstepper's graduation party & ceremony....1 step closer to empty nest! (hmmm..a theme here...AND a pun...a good day indeed!). the weekend after that is 4th of jly, and we've won tickets to Watkins Glen for the races. my husband is happy. i could care less, but i like the pre-race shopping and people watching. it's also our anniversary on the 7th, so we get a free weekend trip thanks to Marlboro. maybe they'll throw in an iron lung. (side note...hunh, that's interesting - my garage door is going up and down. do i check it, or wait for a hockey-masked man to come up the stairs with a knife and know for sure i was right in locking up every night?) (i'll wait. if i hear the fridge, it's youngblood, or a hungry burglar. if not, the squirrels have gotten clever & developed thumbs.). i hear the microwave. can't be anything serious. it would be kind of fun to sneak down the stairs with a baseball bat and yell "YAH!" at the top of my lungs like a crazed Ninja in a pink fluffy bathrobe and claim HE scared ME first. naw. too much effort. and my luck i'd miss Quest's first flight. a quandry. maybe i'll wait till he decides to heat up the roast leftovers i was saving for lunch. so today i go to the orthodontist to have HIM look at the crown situation. i do not want braces. i just want to be able to eat again. i suspect he will say braces are the option, since that is his job. i'll need a few extra opinions before i'd do that though. i'm 50. i'm not interested in cosmetics at this point, just optimum operational status. we'll see. you know, i'm kind of smiling here thinking how much fun the Ninja thing would be. bad Linda. but i KNOW why tigers eat their young, so maybe this opportunity is a gift from all stepmothers who have gone before me. urging me to righteous justice on their behalf. i wouldn't actually HIT him with the bat. just yell YAH. no. not gonna do it. wouldn't be prudent. *sigh* tonight i am determined i'll be watching The Bucket List. diva also ordered Charlie Wilson's War for Uncle Bill (as she calls husband) from his new Fathers Day Netflix account. that was thoughtful. my stomach is growling like a bear, so i'll catch up later.....L.

distracted

much to Diva's disappointment, i have been very distracted the past few days...yes, i'm seeing other animals. The eyas are fledging, and i couldn't be more proud if I was Mariah herself. Just 2 left in the scrape - Quest, and another I can't identify yet. another sibling has come back to urge those 2 out. much wing flapping is going on, which means they are getting ready. follow me here: www.rfalconcam.com . the picture refreshes every few minutes, but i can't wait and click my Refresh button constantly like a lab rat getting crack. i KNOW it won't refresh till it's ready, but i can't help myself. go there now and i'll be back in a bit - it's getting close.........L.

keep your fingers crossed for me - this is the week i find out about the grant i applied for to go to the workshop in september. i feel hopeful. it would certainly help, since most attempts to save money have been foiled. either way, i'm so there! i hate to wish away my summer, but i'm so excited about it! i'm thinking of planning a pajama party in july when husband is in St. Louis...a little hummus, a little art, some strong coffee, and maybe a margarita or two. just the goils. we'll see how that shapes up. maybe i'll do a quick workshop, then play time. i wonder how many people can take a day off? won't know until i ask i suppose! just some pre-coffee ramblings. time for the shower and some diva-love. i wish each of you a truly remarkable day filled with abundance - of good things, unexpected joyfulness, compassion where needed, and fulfillment. L.

possible solutions and ruminations

so i've been watching some of the coverage on Tim Russert's death and can't help choking up and tearing up. yes, i know he was in the media, and some of you think all media people are evil conspirators who want nothing better than to smear someone's name and remove root beer from the grocery shelves. but, having been a media person myself, i can assure you there are some root beer fans. and whether or not you agreed with him, he was a decent guy. he was fair. he was smart. he came to an interview prepared. he was not a news-bot, who re-wrote press releases and emailed all his friends to watch because he was going to be on tv. he was not in it to be the focus. and i guess all the kind, hearfelt words that people had to say about him reminded me of my father. and today, being the day before Father's Day, it seemed okay to be a little sad. so with caution, i allowed a little reflective thinking and wishing to weave through my heart. i spoke to him, saying the things i would wish i could say to him if he were alive. our relationship was a stormy one when he was here...so much alike, we recognized the bumps and bruises in each other and fought them as if to rid our own selves of them. he was a good man. a kind man. generous when he was able. a solid friend his friends could depend on. time grinds down the sharp edges and smoothes over the rough parts like sea glass, but i was just learning about him when he died. it took me 10 years to accept that he was gone, and then grieved for another 10. now able to face his memory, i began to delve into that family history kept so quiet, so secret...so painful that it was never spoken of. even my mother was surprised by some of the things i found. my father & his brother & sisters put in an orphanage...my aunt hiding my father in her closet so he wouldn't be adopted....how they fought at such a young age to remain family. so today, i chose to make art. not art for sale. not art to give away. but art for my father. a tribute. and as my fingers tied thin pieces of wire to twigs, and leather was attached to tin, and solder smoke filled the air, i began to feel a comfort from him. to have his essence as part of my personality has been the greatest gift i could ever receive. his sense of humor...his sense of right and wrong....his helping hand up to the underdog. but to feel his approval on me today, in my heart of hearts, and to maybe say Good Job...now that is a gift to my spirit. perhaps i have idealized him in my mind...kicked the flaws to the dungeon and allowed only the good to come forth. but isn't that what it's about? isn't that just such a great way to see every person, every day? this is my favorite picture of me and my dad....it's actually the only one i have of him holding me...still sleepy noggined from my nap, with the sandman still in my eyes. so tomorrow i will help the steppers celebrate father's day with their dad. and pray that they will learn to appreciate him and forgive him his flaws while they can still express it to him out loud. and hear his voice return. for today, i will listen to my father's spirit in my heart and remember his lessons, his life, his example, and be glad for the time i did have. and be glad for carrying his memory. L.

a bagel without a hole....

you know the old saw about "is a bagel still a bagel without a hole?" (or is it "a donut without a hole? ach. give me 2 of each) well, is an artist still an artist without art? i find myself again without work for my hands. ideas...yes. but the hands and the brain are not speaking just now. half-finished works in my studio hold no fascination for me. new ideas are bubbling and exciting, but the "do-ing" ...not so much. i've tried to muddle this out. i've tried ignoring it and just plowing in. i've tried just relaxing and waiting for it to come. it always does, i suppose, but i feel the need to create, and the vacuum & laundry washer just aren't my chosen tools.....if i was as prolific in my studio as i have been in the Becky Home Ec-y department recently, i'd need storage. so frustrating. **last night we gathered at my friend debbie's house after dark - actually in her backyard. despite high temps and humidity, a fire in the firepit for s'mores & ambiance (and bug chaser). her yard is enclosed with a high fence. a pool at one end. decking around the pool and the area where we sat. so nice...so womb-like. and the margaritas were magnificent. a flash of lightning and a quickening breeze broke things up early, but as we headed out the gate, another couple was just coming in, so we stayed for the second party...daring the storm....knocking on debbie's kitchen door and making her come back out. how great to have a neighborhood where everyone gathers in the evening. this year a rift has formed between some neighbors and it's so sad to me to feel it's ripple beneath everything. we still all gather, but a weed has rooted in our garden of neighbors. it will take some doing to dig it out. husband is off to check out the eagle nest down the road. i should probably shower and get dressed. another busy day with groceries and running info out to the rehabber's. tomorrow is fathers day. i think i will make my hands listen to my heart , (rather than my head) this time and make a memorial piece for him. L.

3-ring circus

8:30am...arrive at the rehabbers. 8:31am...oy vey does it ever smell! an abundance of skunks and racoons and 20 baby possums. little Buzzby the hummingbird still in his wingcast...a new baby redtail hawk (got to help feed it!)...and a little brown ball of baby woodchuck - i named him Fuller (he looks like a shoe polish brush - Fuller Brush Company? am i dating myself with the reference? sigh.) Geiger the baby owl still in residence. (we aren't really supposed to name them, but i do it quietly, inside, and then sneak it's useage out-all God's creatures deserve a name), a baby fox that looks exactly like my Diva, a bunch o baby ducklettes and gooselettes....and yes - the baby turkeys. now, you may have seen grown turkeys before and wondered why on earth they have wings - being the fowl-world equivalent to the men running the Short Fat Guys Run through downtown every year. well, those wings are, indeed, fully and i do mean Fully operational. and when you open their little pen to scoop them out so you can clean it, y'all better be fast as lightning. or you'll be chasing turkeys through the place. uh huh. nuff said. on to other species. the pidgeon that poked me through the bars of his cage while i was picking something else up? no, too common. oh i know! the litter of baby racoons that got loose and devilishly ran and hid and ran somemore throughout the place! that was comical. for about a minute. and that little mishap was not my doing (or undoing) for once. i stuck with the ducks for a bit...webicures and kiddie pools and the like. i love the ducks. they don't have teeth. they are hands down the stinkiest animal in the bunch, except for the skunks, and that is saying a lot. went on a goat milk run, and went home to shower and purell and nap. i say all this balh blah blah because i'm working on a Big Thought, and hoped something would gel while i prattled on, but it is not to be. mental constipation. okay, maybe a little drilling & jigsawing will do the trick. i'll check back in. L.

linda's laundertte

ok. so this morning i decided to clean youngblood's room and do his laundry and have everything all nicey nicey clean and folded and put away. it would be a mitzvah. well okay. it's after 4pm - 9 hours later - and i'm still doing laundry. i think i'm on the last load. but it keeps multiplying like bunnies. one dresser is packed to bursting, and the other is getting Very Full. it wasn't my intention to do this so i could say "see you don't need clothes," but i have to ask myself....what could he possibly need?? so far: 80 tshirts, 4 pair of cargo shorts in pretty much the same khaki color, 3 pair jeans, 5 collar shirts, etc etc. his sheets are clean and back on the bed. i'm really excited to have him see this. i hope he doesn't feel violated or intruded on. i don't think he will, since that wasn't the intention or the energy i sent out with it. i didn't snoop, and actually didn't even care to. i DID vacuum up 2 soda straws cut in half, but they were right there on the floor. i did not go looking for them. i truly hope he gets himself together. if his bad habits continue through the summer, then they will be pretty ingrained. as if they aren't already. so i took a break while the washer & dryer were doing their thing (in 90-degree heat with a side order of humidity) and took my dremel set, my big wooden round thing, and a hardcover book to Home Desperate. went to the tool section where i finally tracked down an orange-aproned associate. and asked how just how do i cut a hole in this THIS half-round piece of wood? here's the self-same dremel set i bought in that very aisle and it doesn't listen to my needs. show me how. he says "need a jigsaw." do-wha? is it in here? i say as i open my 200-piece dremel set with carrying case and attachments. "No. got em on sale cheap. can't believe how cheap. they dropped the price. cheap." okay. "where are these cheap very cheap jigsaws?" "over there." not pointing. just "over there." i tugged his sleeve and said Show Me. he did. i said "now show me how to use it." i've used a jigsaw before. i OWN a jigsaw somewhere. husband has hidden it in the bowels of his workbench. but i've never had to cut a hole in the middle of something with it before. and i need this cranky unwilling man's help to show me. and i think he began to see that the easiest & quickest way to get back to putting supplies he didn't want to sell on pegboard pegs was to Show Me. i said "i was forced to take Home Ec in school - not shop. pretend i'm amish and have never used anything electrical. start at that point and move slowly thru the directions. By the way is that a military tattoo? thank you for your service, sir." well that got him. so i now own a very nice and very cheap ($10) jigsaw AND he even reminded me to get blades for it. can you imagine the scene if i got home and was all blissed out & ready to jigsaw, and there were NO BLADES in the thing??? oy. so all in all not a bad stop. i will still go to Loews when they open. i don't like having to beg for help in any store. i'm very customer service tuned, as you may imagine. so i won't continue rambling about stuff. just needed a break from the spin cycle. oh - i'm reading May Sarton, "At Seventy." so fabulous! L.

good air

although it's hot, humid and unbreathable out, i woke up this morning (on the couch) and felt such a great peacefullness in my heart. Good Air. in this same spirit, i decided i would clean youngblood's room, and do his laundry - just this one time. i figured if he and his father try to do it together, they'll just argue. if we wait for him to do it, it won't get done. if husband tries - he'll get all ADD overwhelmed and start getting distrcted. and it'll never get done. besides, i figured if there was any contraband, better i should find it than husband. i tried not to look too hard, because it was a Good Air day. and the intent was to do a Good Thing. so i now have 80-skatey loads of laundry piled up to do. although my intent was pure, i am hoping to earn some karma points after seeing the enormity of the task. today is also a day i will re-tackle the typewriterGodhelpme. this time i'm bringing in the power tools. i was so caught up in the original meditative idea of denuding this thing, that it never occured to me to whip out the Ryobi and have at it. of course, last night i tried to saw a wooden newel post in half with a hack saw...un-electric. how do the amish DO it?? i had gotten my husband's Sawsall out, but shoot - that thing is heavy, and it's made to saw a car in half. i could only imagine what my femur would look like if i slipped. so i got the thing cut out of sheer determination. now to sand. and to figure out how to cut the little niches and holes in it that i need to put milagros in. this art stuff is not for the feint of heart. i need a tool workshop, that much is obvious. maybe i'll drag my D-minus dremel down to Home Despot and make them show me how to use it. it must be operator error....other people seem to like it. of course, trying to find someone who actually knows how to USE the tools they sell may be a problem. but i'm off to channel the Good Air into my project. the wood one. the one with the salvaged newel post from when they tore down a building at Cornell University. that one - the one with the red lead paint on it, that was obviously an outdoor newel post. i say that based on the poison ivy on the arm that held down the post while hacking at it last night. breathe. L.

awry & amuck

i just read an article somewhere that said a person should keep their blog posts short and to the point in order to keep the reader engaged. hunh. they must not live my so-called life. so here goes an epic story of Linda vs Life. it all started out fabulous! the thought of an entire weekend to myself spread out before me like a buffet of dreams...oh the art i would make! and this morning when i woke up...a fully formed project idea popped into my vision while in the shower. a blessed day to be sure. ignoring the stifling heat that hung in my a/c-challenged car, i ventured out to the huge garage sale at the stamp store where i loaded up 2 bags of wooden antique dominos, a bag of jewels, and stuff i had no idea how to use (but looked cool). cheapity cheap. on the way, i saw my favorite 2 words in the history of life: Barn Sale. whoo hoo. now let me back up to the shower part. this project involved using the keys from an old Smith Corona typewriter. i have been looking for an old Smith Corona typewriter for years. the ones i find are at flea markets, and they want more for them now then when they were new. i have standards and boundaries. so i go down the Barn Sale road, and there's a turtle walking along in the driving lane. a good sign for me, but maybe not for him. it was right near the barn sale, so i asked the woman for some gloves so i could move him along, but she said he was almost home and she didn't have any gloves. my first hint that maybe there were mixed blessings to come. as i weighed the odds of arguing a pair of her (she lived on a CHICKEN farm for goodness sakes - she MUST have gloves!), i spied a Smith Corona typewriter still in it's hard case...the old antique kind that weigh a t-o-n. ohhh! guess how much?? one dollar. ONE DOLLAR! sold. i held back a gasp as i saw a few more elements i needed for this showervision project. $3 later, i head back. no sign of the turtle. whew. he made it across the road. perhaps the barn lady did know a few things. home & straight to the deck with screwdriver, pliers, and anticipation. i opened the case, and this typewriter stared up at me in all it's spledid glory. the rolls royce of its kind. i love old typewriters. i love the feel of them. i love the smell of their oil and the ink on the ribbon. i love the sound they make as the striker hits the paper. just so author-ly. so wonderful. and here i sat with tools of destruction. i couldn't do it. yes i could. i wavered. then talked myself into it. i probably would never use it as a typewriter...i mean, with email, we practically don't need mailmen anymore. i'd smack my toe on it every time i pass it in my studio, just like the remnants of the Mac computer monitor that seemed like such a good fetch at the time. so i was ready. at first, settling in for a meditation of sorts...get lost in the bits and pieces ...the un-engineering of it. i marveled at the workmanship...they don't make 'em like this anymore. and all those screws...teeny tiny ones...medium sized ones. i set the typewriter case next to the actual machine, to put the removed parts in, much like a surgeon puts pre-used and removed body parts in a shiny sterile kidney-shaped bowl for later inspection. i studied the typewriter to find THE screw that would release just the part that i needed. hmm, not THAT one. nope, not this one. well, not to bore you, so let me just say this: 4 hours later. sweating in the 93-degree humidity. the smell of B.O. mingling with oil and 2 different colors of grease. i've Purelled 3 times and have resorted to Clorox wipes. i have ruined RUINED my husband's best screwdriver. there are screws and springs and bits and parts flung into the case and i could Care Less if i ever i said EVER look at them again. the poor typewriter looked like a gnarled broken tree limb - keys all wretched and sticking up with no modesty or respect whatsoever. i am screaming at it to COME LOOSE like some TV evangelist, which fits since i am sweating like a pentecostal in a rented church hall. (and i should know). i try reasoning with it that in this electronic age, it has outlived it purposefulness and i, yes I, can miraculously give it new life as art thank you Jesus. just come loose from your bindings hallelujah. be free Lord help me. no reply. and the devil reminded it that it's very company, yes the very one, that employed most of cortland ny, that company, had moved offshore...gone were its brothers and sisters...gone were it friends and neighbors...gone were its replacement parts. no reply. i slammed it on the table. my glasses slid down my nose. sweat trickled down my cleavage. the dog barked. the bees stopped buzzing. i threatened, cajoled, became distracted by my own personal feelings about cortland ny which are famously & hideously etched in my mind and wake me at night clutching my pillow. just another chance for cortland, former home of smith corona, to trample on my zen. i wailed and tore my clothes.(well, not really but it seemed like such a good visual, i took the chance). i beseeched the heavens to mercifully release those striker keys from the bondage of that ONE screw that will NOT let go. no reply. so i put the stricken strikers and the twisted return bar and the still stuck screw into the case with the other miscellaneous parts large and small, and set it on the counter in the kitchen. carefully. so as not to disturb it, since this is clearly a Steven King Christine typewriter. it will go into a locked garage tonight just in case it indeed comes to marionette life and attacks. if i am found dead with inky letters beaten about my head and chest, please let the detectives know it was the typewriter. make them understand. and because of this event, i hope you will understand why i will never ever not ever make art again. i would have been better off if i left the "smith" off, and just got disheveled on "corona." L.

PS

news from the gyno - i'm not pregnant! just fat and menopausal! such great mixed news!! i will sleep well tonight knowing i won't have to make that tough decision....kill my husband or kill the doc that did the so-called vasectomy. L.

the babies

so they aren't so cute right now, i agree, but by august they'll be proud-looking peregrine falcons! still trying to pick their down off and get ready for flight right now. you, too, can become as obsessed as i am with Mariah & Kaver's little babes... www.rfalconcam.com - be sure to read their history & the stories of where their older siblings have been spotted. amazing. and Mariah & Kaver come back to this same nesting box on the Kodak building in Rochester NY every year. ***so 2 days ago, i was leaving work and i heard this noise. it went BOIIIINNNGGG under my car, and i felt a THUMP under my left foot. i thought, "hunh," and turned up the radio. said a prayer that i'd make it home - husband was out of town of course, so i'd be stranded by the wayside poor me. the next day, before i could turn the radio on, there was a CLANG CLANG sound when i hit a bump. again, i thought, "hunh," and turned the radio on. loud. but i know that technology does not follow logic, or else we wouldn't need mechanics and garages, just louder radios, so i called my Saturn dealer and said, "say, by the way, how much does a boing-clang-clang cost to fix?" he seemed to know immediately that it was a $700 minimum charge for boingclangclang. yikes. now i won't re-bore you with the litany of unexpected bills that have popped up like weeds in my checking account garden, but let's just say if it got any redder in the column to the left, it would be time to go into the witness protection program. oh, and the mechanic said Do Not Drive the car. so about 30 minutes later, and at least 40 minutes from home, (can he be SERIOUS?? i have too much to do) i am lost in the Worst part of town. an area so bullet-ridden and scary that even the gangmembers won't live there. they commute. i am a small, old woman in a car that clearly sounds like the ice cream man is coming with a Clang Clang of it's bell. this is not the Good Humor woman. and i'm lost because of construction detours. detours with once highly visible detour signs. that have been stolen or disrespected to the point that they are un-visible. there are not even mangy dogs wandering the area. oh, and my cell phone - in collusion with the car - decided to just shut off. no particular reason. just zip. bill was paid. battery charged. just said "i've had enough of listening to your endless stupid trivial chatter on and on every day i can't take it anymore too-da-loo." so if my car decided to scramaloo also, i would be stranded in this no-man's-alcatraz of humanity with no one to call, and no thing to call no one on. so i did the only thing i could. i drove down the side street that was torn up by one of those grinder machines (no doubt to make escaping the law less fast) till i got to the street i needed to be at, waved at the construction guy who was waving furiously at me (i couldn't read his lips, but i had an idea he wasn't shouting have a good day and God be with you), turned left and arrived at my destination. leaving was as much fun. just do everything above in reverse. in the middle of my abject terror and prayers for my mortal soul(just in case the Catholics are right), my friend Jennifer calls. and my phone actually rang! yes! she talked me down from the ledge as i made way way through all of the above. thank you jennifer. she suggested another mechanic. novel idea. i stopped by the only Honest Mechanic in my area on the way home, and he drove my car around the lot. guffawed. put er up on the lift. handed me a horseshoe shaped 8" piece of metal (oooo! ahhh!) that he dug out from under my car wheel general area and declared that was all that was left of my spring. and btw, i also need a new strut. well i know i've put on a few lbs in the past few months but sheesh to have a stranger just say it out loud like that....anyway, the boingclangclang would cost $200 at his shop. so tomorrow, i'm in for a new spring and a new strut. yeah baby. it seems like things are trying to put a damper on my ability to save money for my workshop trip. but i will be going no matter what. this only makes me more determined. and at least there's 1 less thing to go wrong with the car now! so it's time for me to get some stuff done here....go turn the cell phone off as punishment - to bed early for it. hey - annmarie from work who procured the autoclave suggested a blankie drive for the rehabber...if you have any old blankies, flannel material, or adult wee-wee pads (like the hospitals put down on the beds...mondo size) please let me know. no towels though...little claws get stuck in the loops. thanks y'all! L.

guard diva...

takes her job seriously. all night until 3am (when she went under the bed, finally exhausted) growl growl bark bark. that's the part i hate about husband being gone...diva becomes the Guardian of the House. unfortuately, her tuning is set a little sharp, and she barks at the slightest hint of provocation - real or imagined. if a flea wakes up 3 blocks away and goes for a drink of water...BARK. if a bird in a nest in a tree in Rochester shuffles it's feathers ....BARK. needless to say she takes her job seriously and is not to be silenced by a mere human with under-developed hearing who cannot hear or see the Very Real Dangers she is scaring away. so at a groggy 5am, when my spirit called me to awaken and drink in the beauty of a fresh new day, my mind told it to SHUT UP YOU! finally at 6am, the mind relented or gave up, and i went downstairs to drink in a fresh new cup of coffee, and plot the day. i find if i plot the day, the day has less chance of plotting against me. unless it's a plot-less day...no obligations, errands, etc. just hoist the sail and see where the wind takes me. and pray for good wind. speaking of which...nah...i'm not going to dip my fork into yesterday's leftovers. i have my Inner Peace CD going...it just sets the right tone...very calming (just as the name implies) and i usually follow this up with Mary J. Blige. this routine signals my brain that it's work time in the studio. usually by the first 3 notes of "Work That Thing Out Out" i am indeed working it out with some rusty metal. today would be an excellent day for a bathrobe day, but it's off to the photog to get some shots of my work done. another CD due for another juried show. how exciting is this path! hopefully i can get something going here in the morning, to continue on this afternoon after running around. and diva is sorely in need of attention. she was alone all yesterday, and got half a walk and less than half my attention all evening. she got noticed all night though. grrr. so i'm off for a refill! i wish you each an extra special magical day! L.

autoclaves & anguish

oy vey. what i really mean is OY VEY. so husband left for the week's travels, and youngblood has been banned from his mother's house for yelling at her. so guess who ends up being the babysitter? if you guessed Why, You, Linda....guess again. using my newly re-found centeredness, i took diva for a walk and tried to kanoodle an inspiration. this situation cannot and should not continue. not just because i need my space. not just because i don't care for his company any more than his own parents do. but because Somehow these people have to learn to find a middle ground, and everyone needs to grow up and act like the responsible, mature semi-adults that they should be. even if it is an act. so i decided that IF youngblood called his mother to effect an apology, then he could stay here tonight, but be g-o-n-e tomorrow morning and not to return until friday evening. that will give them a night to cool off after the apologies that neither side wants to offer. my question du jour was: what if there was only 1 home? how would things be handled then? so i left it to husband to call his ex and lay the proposition on the table. she was reasonable enough to admit that i should not have to be stuck with him, so the only solution would be the one presented. then husband needed to call youngblood and tell him the deal. that apparently did not go quite as reasonably, although in typical man-fashion, he feels that a one word answer ("dandy") was a full accounting to my question of how it went. i will grill him like a ballpark frank at another time. i guess my intense desire to have youngblood gone, was my spirit rebelling against the bad air that gets sucked in when there's such commotion and conflict. i crave Good Air, and there is nothing but a chaotic spirit when youngblood & father or mother get together in the same hemisphere. i've worked too hard to clear this crud from my life and don't want it dragged in every week to clog up the flow like dust ina hepa filter of a vacuum cleaner. i also refuse to re-live the same cleaning/clearing every week. if this continues, i have announced that i will move to my parent's house during visitation weeks, and during the off week, NO ONE drops in for any reason whatsoever. i deserve to live in peace. i've worked hard to get there, and refuse to be the one who does everyone else's LifeWork. it doesn't work that way anyway. so. on to great good news! i made a few inquiries at my Big Girl Job regarding the availability of an "extra" autoclave for my rehabber friend. made sure to call it an autoclavical, so people would chuckle and remember the request. TA DA! they came through! a very good day! now if we can just get the parties together to take a nice picture, it'll be signed and sealed. so good. a happy thng to hold in my hand and look at with my heart throughout the day. i wish many blessings upon the people who made this possible. many many. well, diva is whining up a storm, having been disrespected and disregarded in the petting/attention dept tonight while i tried to effect world peace and figure out the flex shaft attachment to my dremel tool, which does not perform quite like the uber-tool i'd hoped it would be. so far, i'm impressed by how cool all the attachments look lined up in their respective nooks and slots. however, as a Real Tool, i give it a D-minus. maybe operator error. but i don't think so. it doesn't cut for beans, it doesn't drill for nuttin, it does sand the crud out of your knuckles. but i could do that with an emery board and novacaine. so i'm off to read in bed for a while. i'm still reading Georgia Popoff's incredible new book of poetry, and Joan Anderson's followup book to A Year By The Sea - called An Unfinished Marriage. timely. i'm still petting Susan Lenhart Kazmer's book. and i finished 3 assemblage pieces. what a clever girl am i. nighty night y'all. L.

don't look directly at screen!

here it is. youngblood's room.

peanut gallery

here's a quick shot of Mariah & Kaver's brood....starting to pick their downy feathers out and grow some Big Bird Flight Feathers! www.rfalconcam.com to become obsessed. L

my own cooking show?

i'm thinking about doing my own cooking show - 1 episode - i have a great recipe for Disaster. take 1 family comprised of a guilt-ridden divorced dad, a stepmother with a need for a lot of personal space & quiet, a 17 year old girl with a 21 year old boyfriend and a 19 year old stepson who is the reincarnation of Albert Einstein (at least in the mirror). put them in a house together with an issue-ridden diva dog. watch as the blood pressure rises. when the mixture comes to a gentle rolling boil, add in some illicit drugs. as dad adds in huge helpings of whatever the stepson loudly demands at full cursing volume in the driveway, despite a dwindling pantry, watch as the stepmom explodes. it'll be great fun! this recipe can be repeated every other week, or as often as the children decide to drop by. makes for a very quiet off-week. so enough of the cooking ....yes it's fireworks time again. although we've managed to create negative space in our bank acount due to some surprise bills (jenny's ambulance bill, $500 in rejected expense report items on an Amex, etc etc), youngblood has not-eaten himself down yet another size and spent part of sunday afternoon throwing f-bombs at husband in the driveway till husband relented and said he would take hm clothes shopping. now, i hope to have pictures of his room soon, but it is LITERALLY kneecap high with clothes now. you CANNOT walk in. it's like those bouncy castle things you see at McBurger joints or the county fair. there are long buried snacks, bottles filled with spit from his new chewing tobacco habit and who knows what else underneath all this. who sings that song, "should I stay or should i go"? they MUST have had kids. so this is the summer. youngblood home with his pround 2.9 gpa. the deal was that if he maintained a 3.3 or higher, we would pay for his next semester. anything lower, and he pays 1/3. oops! did we really tell him that? we didn't really mean it, i guess. i'm sorry this is so negative...i try to be a little more uplifting. but this is my life today. i called in with a migraine, after spending a night filled with nightmares and tooth grinding and little sleep in between. husband asks me what i would do in his place, and when i give my opinion, it becomes a battle between us. i am not a battling type of person...at least i never was. and i don't like what it's done to my health. and i don't like how it feels. i must make some big decisions, once again. right now, though, diva is whining to go out. i am open to any ideas - pls feel free to leave your opinions, advice, etc. L.

synchronicity saturday

have you ever woken up and just KNEW that the day would be uber-special? me either. just kidding. yesterday was incredible from head to toe. in the morning, the air was heavy with humidity and the smell of rain soon to come. but for some reason it reminded me of the ocean and my body & mind started out in that fabulous frame of reference. good things kept happening all day....good news came throughout the day - youngblood's banquet cancelled today (i would have gone and never complained, but geez louise...); yes, my mother-in-law showed up for lunch for youngblood's birthday, but i stayed semi-blissed out (and yes to your unasked question - she did manage to make an anti-semitic remark within 10 minutes); and all these little Moments swirled around me giving me the boost i've been needing. a book i forgot that i ordered arrived Friday and it is fab-u-lous. it's a jewelry/mixed media technique book - Susan Kazmer Lenhart's (lenhart kazmer? i'll re-check) book on making cold connections (rivets,etc) and it has already changed my work. speaking of which - that piece i was working on....well, it wasn't bedeviling me, just teasing me. it just wasn't working. why? it actually needed to be 2 seperate pieces. so i got a 2-fer. once i realized that, BAM! the fingers started flying. the Zone kicked in. mmmmmm. hum with me now...mmmmmmm. so the Moments continued and i felt all cushioned and centered and Zennish. then i get a text message reminder from my husband (ah modern communication) about a pub crawl some friends of his organized. i thought " just what i want to do - go PAY good money to watch my husband over-drink while i wedding-smile at his friends." but the zennish cloud was in overdrive and i figured what the hey...i can always call a cab. or push him into the river, since the pubs are all in a walking distance and on the Seneca River. i am so glad i had put my broom away and un-witched about this event because i'd be eating my attitude now. what a great time...well, a good time... met some great people from Not Here, and it Was Meant To Be that i was there. and here's why. there was a woman there who felt uncomfortable about her weight. we were talking about who-knows-what and she kept making references to her size. i wanted to slap this beautiful bountiful woman and scream at her "you're beautiful...not a size 2 beautiful, but beauty comes in XL too so shut it and strut it!" but thought perhaps that would not be the most delicate, loving way to handle it. so out of the blue, and for reasons known only to Someone not me, i told her that i went on Lexapro for a few months and ballooned up to the size of a Macy's Thanksgiving float complete with flybridge boobs and a back end the size of an old Caddy. she got teary. now at that point i thought, uh oh....did the mouth say something other than what the brain told it to say? again. but then she told me SHE had gained all this weight since she went on Lexapro last year. this was a relief to her and she will talk to her doc monday. this was a relief to me, since i was happy to have not offended someone. again. and and it just continued with the synchronicity theme. i mean, ask yourself....what are the Real World chances of getting me to go on a pub crawl? time's up. answer: none. no chance. zero. i despise being around drunks. and when i'm Keyed In on a project: less than none. like, ask me and i'll turn my laser beam gaze on you and melt your head for being so bold as to ask - that much less than none. now a junk yard crawl....whoo hoo. oh say hey listen...want to do that?? a junk crawl? oh yes it'll be good! instead of hiring a limo, we'll rent a U-Haul! oh great fun! see...i just feel like something good will happen today! L.

so here's the thing...

for the better part of the winter, i've been pining away for my Grand Summer Enlightenment...last summer being a startling, mind-blowing combination of learning my Self, my mother, and feeling very Carly Simon, earth mother-ish, totally where i should be, Yogic (without all the pretzel configurations), spiritual - you get the picture. by the beginning of the new year (a bit after my surprise birthday party) (which i still bask in from time to time!) i felt that sort of slide away. the lessons stuck, but that euphoric Apple-Trees-And-Honeybees feeling sort of slunk off into the snowdrifts. i have spent the past bunch o' months trying to figure out why...praying, meditating, working art, being a really really good person, giving diva extra pets. nope. maybe a glimmer from time to time, but not that gee it's uber-great to be alive feeling. so yesterday morning i think i caught a ghost of a glimmer why. 1st of all, winter is my crazy, unbalanced time...s.a.d., cabin fever, and bone-chilling cold all conspire to steal my joy. there's just something cruel about getting up at dark o'clock and pulling off perfectly good quilts from your body, just to go outside in 0-degree weather to shovel mountains of snow from the driveway just to go to WORK. and the town plow usually arrives 5 minutes after the shoveling to drop another 3 feet at the bottom of the driveway. brrr & aarrgghh. also, and here's the smart part, i've spent so much time craning my neck looking backward to last year that i haven't even discovered if THIS year holds any promise! (i think that's how women get stuck with the same hairdo - looking back to their glory days of the 70's - or 60's God help us - and time just keeps going without bothering to turn around and wait for us). so the lessons from last summer, although glorious and grace-ful, were last summer's....this year surely must have some merit of it's own, eh? so i'm off to find it. speaking of finding things, yes it IS true that i'm headed to NH in september. y'all know this will be remarkable for me, in that i rarely go that far from home, at least without an escort. an escort, 4 maps (color coded), snacks, cell phone, blankets, emergency road kit, AAA, fix-a-flat, mace and a tazer. and i rarely GET that far from home without getting mundo lost. actually, these days, a parking lot may as well be New Zealand for all the directional inclination my menopause-muddled brain has stored up. 2 weeks ago i went to Auburn to drop off my piece for the Schweinfurth show....i HAD to go and it HAD to be that day. yup - took the GPS. which works fine, but is not the most logical technology. but i gave up. so i think this year may be a bit about stretching my wings a bit - both figuratively and actually. there had to be some pretty compelling workshops there in order for me to gear up, put on my Big Girl crocs, and actually sign up and PAY my non-refundable fee. and there are. and the time is right. this time, as i pre-stress everything, i welcome the thoughts of doom (what if i get really lost & my car breaks down and ok what if i actually make it there and no one talks to me or worse if i can't think of anything to say to anyone else or completely lose any artistic talent/gift/inspiration and spend the better part of 4 days making the equivalent of a kindergarten ashtray, or or or ) ...i welcome them so i can chide them, sort them, and learn about myself from them. (well, welcome is not the right word- more like "know these thoughts are coming and have decided to deal with them as individual bad children and leave them at some emotional orphanage for someone else to choose"). i don't usually travel easy, anyway, but being that it is just myself that i have to plan for, pack for, get somewhere, it should be a very interesting trip. and to the oddsmakers - i have not yet started packing. now just stop that smirking. L.

shhh!

i'm working on an inkling that's not quite ready for print yet...be patient...birth is imminent...........L

i'm thinking about Nature this morning....when i woke up around 6am, i took my coffee out on the deck and listened to the squirrels fussing and clacking at each other...birds calling and telling the squirrels to please keep it down. diva and i sat for a bit soaking it all in. the beginnings of a stirring of an inkling of Something Important gently decending. i guess what i'm looking for is the calm, centeredness i seem to have lost over the winter. the feeling of being "in the zone," at peace, a part of nature - not just an observer. the assemblage i'm working on now (not pictured here) is called "she tried." although it is making progress, it just bedeviled me...worked against me in so many ways. till this morning. i leave the "meaning" of the piece up to personal interpretation, but to me, it is speaking of trying to recapture that peace, that Alchemy, that solid joy at feeling sun on my toes on the deck in the morning with a mug of good strong coffee. the quietness of my soul. heart-ears listening for instruction. i've filled my hands and minutes with chores and errands for too long. yesterday, as i worked in my garden, i realized how long it's been since i've spent solid blocks of time doing what i Need to do, as opposed to what i Should do. today i will make art. i am also in charge of the 2 mariachi dogs across the street - 2 of the fiercest, cutest little bug-eyed spirits. all 3 pounds of them bum-rushing the 3 Maine Coon cats they share the house with. so today, Lulu, Tink and i will spend a little quality time together till their mom comes home. their deck is one of the most peaceful places. i'll sketch while they terrorize the bugs. then tonight...a bonus night off! glue, nails and the dremel! Diva will be in heaven. enjoy your slice of sunshine today! L

i was up early again today...5am...the first of 4 days off in a row! yippee! i'm reading 3 fabulous books...Eat,Pray,Love...Odd Hours...and a Joan Anderson book - the followup to her Year By The Sea (highly recommend). i read a little, then cruised some blogs and waited for Diva to finish her dreams and come nudge me. do i adore her too much? i am totally GONE on this creature. and it's weird (yes weird that i talk about my dog like she was a Real Girl...but something Else weird)....before i had a dog, i never realized how individual their personalities were.....i thought a poodle acted like a poodle and all poodles were the same, as were st. bernards and chihuahas. (oh - i'm dogsitting for 2 tiny teacup chihuahas this weekend and am terrified i'll lose them!). so first came my love-of-a-lifetime mandog, Nikita. a handsome american eskimo boy...serious and somewhat laidback - well for an eskie. then Diva Dog, Nikki, comes blasting into our lives...all fangs and furious and terrified of everything from umbrellas to hiccups to laundry being folded to most men in general, youngblood & husband in specific, and you name it and it would send her under the bed for days. 8 years later, she's somewhat better. but where Kita was standoff-ish in the snuggle department, Diva is an absolute whore for tummyrubs. and clingy. when i leave the house, she is certain she will never never ever see me again. i am going away for good and leaving her. she backs reproachfully away from a goodbye pat to the head and gives me Eyes. as the door closes, the howling begins...that chilling wolf-howl-mixed-with-Zamfir that grips your heart and squeezes till the guilt pops out and floods your aorta then cruises thru your entire circulatory system, dropping off bits and pieces along the way...your stomach clenches, your head throbs, your feet become disoriented and try to turn around and go back inside. she then runs to the glass panel by the front door...the frosted glass. so the last thing your teary eyes see as you pull down the driveway are 2 blurry ears perked at attention. and that's just when i run to the stop-and-rob down the street. an entire workday away is an epic battle of mind over mind to not think about her fuzzy head, furry paws, and constant licking of the hand. arriving home is cause for celebration! in puppytime, i have been gone approximately 4 million, 300 thousand years. she launches at me, and will not be denied until i crouch down and she puts one paw on each side of my head, leans in against me and sighs in my ear. then the kisses start. i swear to you this is true. and i've often wished for a small half-bath just inside my door because by the time the greetings are accomplished and i''m able to disentangle myself and fly upstairs...it's just about too late. i've learned a lot from my furkids though...about living mindfully...be present in the moment, even if just to take a second to close my eyes and sniff the morning smells....dew-laden ferns, the smell of the earth as it begins to warm, listening to the calls and conversations of the nuthatches and woodpeckers and the cardinals that come early to feed...the one-note mourning dove....the resident owl causing havoc nearby in the woods. all of it feeding my soul as completely as if it was made-to-order. i miss these moments in the winter, and try to rememorize them during the brief non-winter months. ahhh...i feel a walk coming on. i will try to bring back pictures, but my camera is still broken and i can't tell when it's focused. now that could be interesting. breathe this day deep inside...the morning fresh...the details yet to come...this moment, this precious moment between the sandman and the sun - bring it with you in your heart today. L.

to the bone

what's up lately?? it seems everyone i know, and everywhere i look (magazines, etc) seem to be in this "accept yourself" mindset. this is not a complaint. it is about time! i just about choke when i stand in line at the grocery store looking at magazine covers...and Cosmo - aaarrgghh. what an incredible disservice they do to Real women. of any age. it was the one magazine i would not buy for my stepper when we had our girly dates at Barnes & Noble. nowthey have Cosmo Girl, so they can grab your young mind and brainwash you into thinking that spike heels are comfortable, and that your A-Number-1 goal is to please your man better in bed. i got news for y'all...you make me prance about on heels all day and the only thing getting a massage that night are my feet. i remember my mom saying "Beauty is only skin deep," and my dad finishing with, "but ugly is to the bone." never figured out what the heck they meant till i was 40-ish. i thought it was one of those mom-isms that were thrown out to try to make you feel less ugly. i mean, of COURSE beauty is skin deep! THAT'S the point! or so i thought back then. the best part of that duet is the Ugly Is To The Bone part. it truly is. ugly, as in hateful and jealous and gossipy and 2-faced and on and on. nothing, i think, makes a person look uglier than a bad spirit. a nasty heart. i know some women that are truly un-gorgeous, but after getting to know them, they just radiate True Beauty. and that is so much more lasting and true and brilliant than any foundation or powder or diet will ever make you. yes, i look at pictures of myself growing up....when i felt like i missed the mark in every important beauty department...too heavy, too short, too many pimples, too flat chested, straight hair when curly was "in", curly hair when straight hair was fashionable. and you know, i wasn't actually all that Quasi Modo as i look at the pictures now....it was something INSIDE me that was looking back in the mirror. and that's what made me see with distortion. so as my contact lens struggle continues in Real World, my eyes are 20/20 in the spirit.....i am comfortable being ME...flabby ass and all! So raise a toast (or better yet - some toast!) to all the women who actually finally get it....beuaty is just skin deep. and ugly is truly to the bone. L

a very long story

i'm waiting for both glue & paint to dry, so this isn't procrastination. i'm working on a piece called "She Tried." the interpretation will be up to you when you see it. but that got me thinking about all of the women i know that tried. and the different ways that "tried" can be interpreted. and the different things that were "tried." and if "tried" is an end-all, or a way of life, or simply one solution that failed/worked and will continue. and my thoughts kept coming back to the single most remarkable woman i have ever known. i will never know another person, male or female, who embodies the word "tried" more than Ursula. some would dismiss her as a cartoon. some would just dismiss her. but to spend enough time with her, the bits and pieces of her life will be revealed to you, and you will never be the same. ever. i first met Ursula when i was 6. we had moved to a suburb of Syracuse NY (Dewitt) to a brand new apartment complex. it was still being built. 20 buildings, 10-12 apts in each. THE place to live, if apartment living was where you were at. All Jewish. we secretly called it Hanukah Heights. mostly older people. And Ursula. she were not Jewish. and she sure was not old. Oh how entranced i was by her...she was beautiful...wore beautiful clothes - although all i can distinctly remember was her leopard print bikini, and her German accent was just thrilling! AND and! she had a poodle! no dogs were allowed in the complex, but Ursula had a POODLE! the complex was owned by a local family, who, it was alledged, had ties to another "Family." anyway, i would go knocking on her door after school everyday and beg to walk her dog. she always let me. (being the owner of an over-loved dog now, i cannot fathom how she let that happen). i remember the day i came home to fire engines and seeing the smoke pouring from her apartment. Suzette was dead. Ursula was seemingly broken. she had not been home when the fire broke out. and this is where i thought her story of a Phoenix-like life began. but it wasn't. Ursula was raised in Germany, and although not Jewish, was pretty, even as a very young girl. soldiers took a liking to her, and that's all i have to say about that. after falling off the back of a motorcycle, she was left for dead by the side of the rode - a discarded toy. but she rose. she found her way somehow to the States and started over. doing anything she could. at the point where i met her, she had a lot of "boyfriends," and also worked at a construction company. one of the boyfriends had a jealous woman in his life. a jealous unbalanced woman. who fire-bombed Ursula's apt and killed Suzette. soon after that, Ursula was in a car accident and totalled a car the company let her use. she was fired from the job. she sold cosmetics and whatever else she could. she got another poodle. she found a new job downtown. one night when she got into her car to drive home, a man was hiding in the back. he had recently pre-released himself from prison. he drove her to a cemetary and raped her at knifepoint. she had the presence of mind to tell him then that she would enjoy it more if she could be on top. as they switched, she turned his knife against him and ran, naked, to the nearest house. police were called and the man was caught. the end of her story? no. when i was married the first time, we moved to another suburb on the other side of Syracuse. the first day in our new townhouse, i was left with boxes and boxes to unpack, and painting to do and more boxes to unpack. and a knock comes at my door. i'm sweaty and crying and feeling very sorry for myself. i opened the door to an older woman, perfectly groomed, bright red lipstick, the shortest shorts, and a silver carafe of coffee. as the woman was trying to see around me to get a look at my stuff, and welcoming me to the neighborhood, her German accent exposed her:Ursula! could it be? yes - i could smell the Scotch. (did i mention Ursula was always well into her cups by 10 or 11am? but somehow got more done than most of us do when we're sober). i re-introduced myself. tears came to her eyes, and that only-Ursula cackle came from deep inside her..."oh my Gott! oh my Gott!" and yes, she was on poodle #4. (this one was nasty...biting anything and anyone that came within it's range). she was also on husband #2...a quiet, incredibly myoptic, geeky guy who probably wonders every day how he got so lucky. during the next ten years, Ursula would accidentally discover a pimple that turned out to be melanoma, a lump in her breast which required a mastectomy, a fall from a ladder as she was putting the star on top of a christmas tree, and then, as she was walking poodle #4, a truck speeding around a corner and hitting Freddy killing him instantly. i was walking Kita, and came around the same corner to find a woman screaming and hugging a tree as 2 men tried to pry her off it. i yelled at them to stop. as i neared, there was Ursula....still yelling gut wrenching "NO GOTT's" clinging to the tree for support, still holding a leash which ended under the truck. she refused to budge and i ran for help to our neghbor. we took her home and offered her tea, which earned us a raised eyebrow and a Look as she reached under the sink for her scotch. next they got a beagle. one night as i worked at 911, a call came to me...the woman in barely coherent english/german asking for an ambulance. i looked at the address on my screen - Ursula. her husband was having a stroke or an episode of vertigo. i listened to her heartbreak once again. soon after that, i remarried, and moved 10 minutes away. a year into it, as i walked Kita and Nikki down through the echo echo tunnel and through the beechwoods, i saw an older couple headed toward me. you have GOT TO BE KIDDING! Ursula! and her husband. she had not changed 1 iota...hair still perfectly set, red lipstick, daisy dukes, and these cool fold-up black sunglasses with rhinestones all over them. she must be at least 112. "you haf gotten older" she proclaimed. thanks. she had not. she was still cackling, still unsteady on her feet, still going. "whir do you lif?" she demanded. i knew for sure she would appear on my doorstep at any time of day if given this information. scotch in hand. she volunteered that they had to put charlie the beagle to sleep because he bit someone (no surprise) and the senior apts wouldn't let them have a dog that had a biting history. Ursula has been through more in her lifetime than i would want to face. any one of her vignettes (and there are many many more) would have pummeled and destroyed me. but she rises. she tries. she goes on. she's slowed down on the scotch - just one after dinner. or around dinner. she doesn't dance the cha-cha at the slightest suggestion anymore. but her spirit is still strong and bold...charming and taunting you to get up for gott's sake ...go on...rise...try. i have yet to determine if Ursula is indeed made of mortal flesh and bone, or if she has been sent to the earth for me...to inspire, to chide, to be a better me. (other people have indeed seen her, so it's not like THAT). i say that i would like to be more like her. but would i be willing to pay that hiway's toll? in honesty? no. but if i could just sit under her golddust and have some sprinkle on me...just enough for what i need... for what i face....now, that would be sufficient. and the memories....they would scold me into rising, going on...trying. L.

so the message that's been trying to get me to listen to it is: go slowly...observe all the wonders along the way...the beauty...the smells....the textures...of this, your one and only wonderful life. Lately, my calendar has filled with "stuff." interesting stuff, gotta-do-it stuff, all sorts of stuff. but it has left little time to sit quietly and listen. and that has had a direct reflection on my art. rather....i have not had an inkling of an artistic idea. the Stuff has been primarily superficial, day-to-day Stuff, leaving no room to feed the Good Stuff. the Stuff Factory. the Soul. my Zen card said "sit quietly. Watch your thoughts and feelings pass in front of you. Relinquish control and the desire to get caught in them..." Then, on the Swirlygirl site, (http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=25173) an incredible collage with this caption.."Your strongest, bravest, wisest self is waiting for you with wide open arms. Go to her and you shall become her." and THEN i found this website: http://www.thisordinaryday.com/ ....all celebrating being mindful...being still...drenching your soul in those Moments. something that has been sorely lacking in me for months now. so today, as husband leaves for an out-of-town day, and youngblood officially goes to work (pray it doesn't rain so he stays all day), and diva is settling in with her Happy Tummy, I officially ban all distractions and disturbances. i have 2 projects that i'll be working on today and will focus. one can be worked while the glue on the other is drying. and it seems that art feeds art...when i'm working on one project, it sometimes spurs an idea for another. i guess May isn't so awful...now that my fingers are nearly healed. i feel a return to the Earth-within-me calling...a connection reawakening. maybe that's what all the internal commotion has been about. new green growing, pushing out the winterkill. today i will water, fertilize, till and feed my Internal Garden...scrape the dead moss and rake last year's leaves from my heart...i will allow the sun to reach the fertile soil and let the tiny seedlings warm their heads in the light. i will be my best self for this day. but first i have to take out the garbage.L.

it's a grey, rainy day...husband and i worked in the garden yesterday and today...i'm tired, muddy and hungry...my brother sent this....sometimes you just have to laugh...i give you 24 seconds - and that's if you're a total sourpuss: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5P6UU6m3cqk&feature=email and if you need a retro laugh, this is a good bet: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60og9gwKh1o love this, but it's contagious! so on this dark, drizzly, stay-in-bed-and-read day, have a laugh on me. L.

ya know?

i am a reader...my mom used to pile up a thousand books from the library, and we'd sit in the big chair all day reading. rather, she would read and i'd look at the big bright pictures...one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish...i will not eat green eggs and ham...all the classics. i can still quote Dr. Seuss at the drop of a hat. as i got older, Nancy Drew mysteries became my passion (but not the scary ones). then modern romance, (pullease!) , then whatever caught my interest...from science & psychology to New York Timesy stuff to,yes, i'll admit it - the Oprah selection. i took it all in. it was food to me. and escape to imagination. and exciting. one day a friend made a remark about someone who "only reads the Oprah" books and thinks she's well-read." terrible comment. and it reflected more about the friend than the "target." life is not all about being serious, in my opinion. and if you enjoy a quick escape into Toni Morrision land, have at it! i have stacks and stacks of books and magazines beside my bed on a table...and more underneath it! when i'm sick, i'd rather cuddle up under the covers and read-and-doze than watch TV. that's my choice when i'm well, too. but that Oprah comment always stayed with me and i felt un-cool reading an Oprah selection, or her magazine. now let me just chime in and say that of all the addictions i have...caffeine, nicotine, Bulgari perfume...right at the top of the list is magazines. i have subscriptions i forget that i have till they arrive in my mailbox...i do spend a ton of money on magazines at Barnes & Noble down the street. they know me by name there. they ask about my art. when i've special-ordered in a book, they wave to me from the door and tell me it's in, and one woman even comments " i just don't think you'll like this one..." It's like "Cheers." so anyway, where am i rambling? oh. i know. technology has also thrown blogs into the mix...sort of a continuing magazine...tune in tomorrow, etc. so there's a whole new world of things to read! and guess what? i'm finding myself picking up and *gasp* BUYING Oprah magazine a lot lately. this month's edition hits the nail on the head about body-acceptance and image and all sorts of things. as i age, things are not where i left them 20 years ago...breasts have become hips, hips have become who knows what extending well beyond where they were, my butt has become the back my knees, etc. Somewhere around 45, i realized i was not 25. i stopped trying to dress 25, and stopped trying to look 25 (a time when i weighed 100 lbs and wore a size 0-3). oh the freedom! see, the Big Secret is that at 45, and then more so at 50, you release yourself to become what you were meant to be...you can still have the inner feelings of excitement that you had at 25, but now you don't feel the need to cram into too-tight jeans. Cosmo magazine has a decades long history of disservice to Real Women. is it me, or am i right here: real live women just don't fret that much about spike heels, g-spots, the perfect smoldering eyeliner, etc. Real Women are more likely to fret over time-management and billpaying. my friend talks about becoming "culturally invisible" when she turned 50. I do agree that i used to think at this age it would all be over, and the remaining years would be spent waiting for the train to glory. but yes and n o. i may be Invisible and obsolete in the minds of 20-year-olds, but so much the better. i can speak my mind more freely that at any other time in my life...i'm now the old person that you listened to with respectful silence, then rolled your eyes as you walked away. and the cool part is that i feel i CAN speak my mind. and i do. i've never been one to hold back if the situation was important enough, but now, i'm a fountain. and i love the freedom. my concern over weight and fashion and makeup and looks...oy...too much trouble compared to the other wonderful things life has to offer. not to say that i just let it rip and wander aimlessly about in farmer jeans and unwashed hair spouting dreams and opinions at passersby. but a quiet, knowing grace has taken center stage...i still feel "girlish" inside, but have more experiences to back up what i say/do/want/don't want. my knees and hands don't always cooperate, and don't even get me going about my back, but i no longer worry about what "They" will think. and as i read the stories about body image in *gasp* Oprah magazine, i realized that this journey is not unique to me...that it's a rite of passage...a pilgrimage from Monolo Blahnik to menopause. and i'm okay with Crocs and Sketchers, but spike heels are for the young and coordinated. i have something far more enduring and fulfilling than youthful, wrinkle-free skin and perfect cleavage...i have me. L

boo boo fingers

so today, promptly at 8:30, gail & i arrived at the rehabber's to feed some wildlife...little teeny bunnies and gooselettes and ducklettes and squirrels of every size. 1 day old, on up to a few weeks. and that's where it got interesting. there was a pen of maybe a thousand squirrels..ok maybe 5 ...or 6. hard to say. at the "few weeks" stage they just move around so quickly. so when you take the chicken wire lid off, you have to grab quick and hold on. at this age, their eyes are open, and you do not look like a mama squirrel. so you are The Enemy. gail was opening and grabbing and feeding and on to the next, while i was still trying to wrangle one. i got him (her?) but she was a little feisy. and soon - we had a runner. up my shirt and over the shoulder. my protective glove was way too big, and i had a feeling that i'd squeeze it's little guts out if i grabbed too hard, so he poo-ed on and climbed me till i dropped the glove and grabbed. he (she?) looked me in the eye, recognized me as the wife of the Bad Man that chases their relatives from our bird feeder, and BIT my finger. blood gushed. pain. pain. instinctively i grabbed with the other hand, and - you guessed it...CHOMP. gush. pain. well, gail was doing such a good job, and these squirrels seemed to have taken a Dr Doolittle liking to her, so i just held the chicken wire for that round, and fretted rabies or tetanus or worse. on to the ducklettes....no teeth. we gave them a little spa treatment, scrubbing their little beaks and then a web-icure with tiny soft toothbrushes. can i tell you...duck poo is The Winner in the most-likely-to-make-you choke contest. there were little tiny owls, and an old possum named Sidney. there are some very interesting facts about possums and their procreational plumbing that i won't get into here, because my fingers hurt and typing is not easy. but suffice it to say, thank God human men are not equally equipped. one is enough, thank you. and that's all i have to say. google it. all in all, a tiring but rewarding morning. diva was very interested in my smell when i got home. i will burn those clothes. and do it all over again next week. time to make some dinner. L.

itty bitty baby bottle

so friday at 8am, Gail & I will be feeding itty bitty squirrel babies with itty bitty baby bottles....squirrel babies, possum babies, goslings, ducklettes....all manner of nature's tiniest unfortunates who have somehow become motherless. except skunks. you have to have shots to do that, and as much as i love nature, that's where the line is drawn. my rehabber friend is overwhelmed with baby this-and-that's who all need to be fed. so i asked if she needed a hand and it was as if she knew i'd be calling. had a schedule all set for me. so my contacts will wait another week. let's get perspective here. and i will arrive at the Schweinfurth to drop off my artwork - not in fancy schmancy successful artist clothes, but my usual Timberlands and jeans. no cameras allowed at the rehabber, but maybe she'll allow a few close-ups that don't reveal her secret location. we'll see. i'm looking forward to adding something totally meaningful to my life. and who can resist a teeny baby squirrel? geez, i hope i don't lose one. they are wily little critters. so here are a few blogs/websites/distractions for you that are just totally cool... www.rfalconcam.com (the baby falcons are a-dorable right now). http://outmywindownyc.blogspot.com/ is a very cool project...i may do something similar here at some point. and www.christinemasonmiller.com a/k/a swirlygirl and sparkletopia creative community. loooove her site - so inspirational. check out her upcoming book - you will WANT IT NOW! well diva is doing her wolf howl/boxcar willie whistle, so time to take care of that poor neglected soul (yeah right, neglected!). bye for now..........L

corner office

this is my husband's corner office....he sent this today while on his way to a sales call: the adirondack mountains - some of them anyway...Mt. Marcy on the left, Colden in the middle, and Algonquin on the right...oh to be there! He reports there is still winter-deep snow on the top. L.