Sunday, November 28, 2010
Sooo... Today will most definitely involve a thread but maybe not too many. My hands are swollen and stiff. I am not sure if it is from too much salt? too much driving? ( I tend to have a death grip on the wheel) or just too much using the small hand held devices we use at work. dunno. But I will not let it keep me from at least some stitching. It may be on my machine until things loosen up a bit or I find my drugs. They are some where around here. The pills that the doc gave me for inflamed things. hmmm maybe in that basket over there.
Once I get moving I will be just fine....
and what plans are afoot (or a hand) out yonder? do tell.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Never a Dull Moment.
If I had a ranch, that would be its name. I love you all!
Hmm maybe I should have a contest for ranch naming...lets do it! I will give the best ranch name a prize ( a.small.prize.) This is purely subjective and I am the boss of it. all are welcome to participate.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
My children are depressed, my husband is overwhelmed. the cats are free range. the coffee is downstairs-too far ( see above reference to knees) I cannot afford physical therapy three times a week and I don't exersize because it hurts.I feel disgustingly fat and cannot believe the scale, which is never accurate, and so confirms this delusion. some days it say 10101 and other days it is closer s 10100 which is better albeit still way (weigh) too much. Is this a reflection of me always feeling like I am too much? too loud, too visible, way too needly too too too everything.
(wild thing, you make my heart sing. you make everything grooovyyyy)
There was exhileration. there was art bleeping *** edited to remove etc etc** everywhere. there was no permanence, no reliable food source. there were banners and broken glass and mahogany furniture, reminders of my grandmothers exquisite new orleans taste. there were Japanese relics of our travels. there was the pervasive smell of linseed oil in everything. there was,even then, the feeling of if only , if only , if only.
we wore clothes from other people, bathed and ate in other peoples houses, bore the scorn of other peoples belief that they were somehow superior in that "we belong to some accepted, shared realm and you do not" sort of way.
We bore that scorn and we wore it with our cast off clothing , our lack of foundations, our bodies rarely clean-the bath tub was copper and the water did not run. for christ's sake this is america and we had no water.
still she painted . she tuned into the classical station on her fm radio and she painted while we deflected the scorn of our neighbors, such as they were.
so. there you have it. a childhood reflection. they come to me in the fall when i miss new england. you cannot go back. but you carry it forward in your cells somehow beneath the teeth and bones, the memories still survive rising like ghostly mists from the wetlands.
now after days of rain- the street still shines with it- the sun pokes out.
I would be ok if I could just stay here with my books and my camera to see the sky with. Blue sky with clouds broken and strewn throughout. the birds emerge and call to each other. they sing we think. how do they hear us? do they at all? other than to be alarmed at our predatory presence?
I am nestled in my bed. coffee is in a cup propped up by a blanket- a fake fleece camp style blanket. My computer is opened to a mail program (a reader I tell my students, an aggregator. I do not use that word to avoid confounding them further. Poor darlings.) My knitting -socks, toe up, magic loop, short row heel, made with "blue wall", medium sock weight yarn from bluemoonfiberarts.com-is next to my computer. I do not have time to sit and knit much so I do a row here and a row there. no worries, there is no hurry. they will get finished eventually. In the back of my mind, there are the other 101 things I would like to finish, but I am practicing living in the moment. not doing so much wishing. planning. striving. goal setting. just be still.
"Just. Be. Still," she used to command to the squirming, noisy children,
right before the pinch.
Friday, November 12, 2010
In real life there are situations where we do not get do overs. However in our creative life, our advocation, crafting and artisan endeavors, we can and should scrap things that we are interminably stalled upon, or projects that give us no joy.
In other words, sometimes I just want to start over. This can mean putting things away, out of sight, in order to rediscover them at another time, or just plain tossing them. Some would say that this is actually a necessary element of creativity.
Today, I am wondering how it would feel to not feel obligated to finish existing projects. What would I choose to do if there were no works in progress. I wonder what I would do if I could start over. I do not mean in the big life sense. the problem for me is that since my identity is so infused with my creative spirit, it is not just a question of what I want to play with, it becomes who do i want to be and then I am mired in it all over again. The continuing saga of what do I want to be when I grow up.
Sometimes I just want to have fun. The whole serious discussion of what is creativity and why and wherefore, is beyond me. I intend to keep it there. Sometimes I just need to be out of the stream of ordinary and into the flow of my creative universe.
that is all