itsawonder

2009-03-02T14:52:00.000-08:00

Oh Yes Jame tell me how to set my computer to remind me.
I did have the devil of a time getting into this again -it is hard to write a quickie when I keep forgetting my password.

But that is all behind us now.

My only comments at this time are about the gloriously beautiful snow we had today -couldn't even see the road at times it was sowhite and drifty this AM when Erin and I went out for a bagel at the food hole. And I have discovered the world's best new drink instead of coffee -for those who know me of course this means it will be my favorite fora couple of weeks until I am sick of it and never want to have it again -but, till then it is a cafix latte! Just Cafix and steamed milk.
In response to the cryptic S -I will out her and call her my dear cousin Sara -What I am usually supposed tobe doing when I am blogging is something else at the computer like my voluminous email. Today I took a break from installing SKYPE. I still don't know if I got it going -later.
There are so many distractions along the way -like do I want to skype from my cell phone from a foreign country? Of course. Well then "you figure out if you can really understand how much it costs "-did you know that the old cent sign is passe and I am not facile with my .o38 type of decimals -comment invited.
Anyway I am off to MEX at the end of the week, not before wrecking a good night's sleep for Jame (if she chooses) to take me to
the airport at 3:45 AM -thank goodness I still know how to tell time. By now all the world knows I am going to teach Cob building AND as importantly, visit dear Westtown colleagues Paula and Alan who are hanging out in an EcoVillage having invited me to join them in a work and learn sort of program. I will also introduce the Time Bank concept, taking along some of your wool Kathy Bowen, plus sticks to make some knitting needles and knit some lambs with folks there. And who knows what else will transpire in my limited Spanish.
I have done some packing and am musing over what I will take for my day's worth of travel food, remembering the times I have taken such items as made the inspectors revise their list of suspicious substances to include apple sauce and almond pudding. Not wishing to worry them or have to ditch my picnic I think I will go for the cream cheese, olive and walnut sandwich introduced to me by marriage. But for breakfast do I dare take french toast stuffed with cherry, banana cream cheese? -oh my a little heavy on the cream cheese. What about the produce aspect? Salad in a bag that clearly does not harbor a gun? -Once they said they couldn't be sure when it was in tupperware.
This may sound a little too fussy but please notice I have totally let go of the fact that what ever I take will be irradiated by the scanner, and only maintain a fragment of my own unique eating disorder.
It is time to check on Skype and stretch my legs.

2009-02-04T13:40:00.000-08:00

I think we have found a solution to this dearth of blogging. Every time someone sends a comment and I allow it, I find myself on the page that asks me if I want to blog -otherwise I can't remember how to get there.

Another hindrance -concern for careful spelling and well crafted work -that's over. I don't hhave to do that every time.

OK then -what's a wonder today.

Got one.

Little children of 2 1/2 or 3 can be delighted by all they encounter in the world. A charming little tyke Josie came to the Cob Studio today with her dad. Dad was trimming pots and putting handles on mugs and Josie was in heaven using what she was hearing and seeing and making up simple non-invasive fun where ever she turned.

Another clay worker did just what I had to wrestle myself not to do. She engaged Josie and quickly became the object of Josie's polite but demanding attention.

Why do we grown ups think that we have to teach tiny people so vigilantly? Paradise reigned when we were all engaged by the object of our interest. Flow was smooth, energy was well balanced, each of us was at peace.

Keep the peace by trusting the wisdom of what you can see if you are not trying to do what you think is expected of you.

THX, S for commenting.
XO

2009-02-03T09:17:00.000-08:00

What a clever girl my sister in law is. She sent me a congratulatory note about the one year anniversary of my last blog and somehow in allowing the comment to be published I find myself here in blogsville.

The bad news is that I am experiencing great anxiety as I know that this wasa not on my schedule and once again I am procrastinating re the pressing but perhaps less interesting stuff on my plate.

But just to keep up my personal handicap of being a pleaser i will add some substance.

We are having a beautiful snow today. Effie has adapted to the salty road conditions which hurt her feet last time we walked on the road in the snow -now she seeks out the side of the road where it is still white and nice on the paws, if she wantrs to be in the middle she doesn't go there until it is white.

Birds are leaving the most adorable tracks in the snow. I made a little clay wheel covered in that motif that I rolled onto the edges of the table cloth tops to my latest clay teapots.

Thanks to you SIL
XO

Prosperity

2008-02-02T11:03:00.000-08:00

I promised my sister-in-law that if I put down my intent to resume blogging, on the calendar, that I would do it -it was scheduled for 4 days ago.

It took some doing to get back into the site for this adventure but now I think I'm set.
Ahhemm...throat clearing noises.

It takes some effort to decide what to write about. Complaining is out, political opinions are out. Oh I forgot this is about reporting the everyday wonders. Phew ! -a place to start.

I have a new dog. I am, in my friend Nancy's word a newpoodleowner.
I can call her my dog without fear that I am being neglectful of my partner's share in ownership because he was clear that he wanted no responsibility in this venture -in his defense he wants to simplify his life.

By-products (to use dog food lingo) of this recent acquisition have been at least threefold -nearly all of them unexpected -(can the dog food manufacturers say the same). First I had forgotten the unparalleled benefits of unconditonal pet love. Second, I find myself a living study of prosperity issues at the moment and trying to answer the question 'what is prosperity for me'? And third, (drum roll....) my husband is in love with the dog! The sidebar to that one is that I feel no compulsion to make him say it out loud. A full fledged 4th by-product is yet to come as I was just fiddling with the toolbar above this box -I will no doubt soon figure out how to insert a picture of Effie, my dog, into this blog before long.

The unconditional pet love began the day I went to Mt. Joy (the actual location of the breeder offering me a choice of desirable poodles) and saw a little (she's a mini) red dog that perfectly filled a wish I had repeated for years -"if only they would develop a dog who maintained puppy proportions in adulthood" -where had I been -they've been around for years? She bounded into the house at the invitation of the 80 year old man who with his 80 something wife were tossing in the poodle breeding towel in favor of a day when grooming and feeding etc. to an unknown but I'm sure reasonable number of man's curley best friends did not hang heavily in the air above their morning OJ. She readily submitted to being picked up into my lap and a half hour later curled up in the seat of her very first ride as if to say "what took you so long".

The prosperity part is in the same sack with the thrill of shopping the Good Will outlet's 75 cent bin, and a hang nail to the phrase 'ask and it is given'.

Prosperity is different for everybody. It isn't tied down to money but it tickles envy when money is showing off. To own a poodle , it turns out, revealed some old keys to my current questions. The family that I most wanted to belong to (as in shopping for who I wanted to eventually become myself) when I was growing up, had poodles who were ambassadors of a classy kind of trapping -I don't remember them as lovable -one was elderly and quickly referred to in the past tense, and the other was on her way to the urn in the coat closet herself.

To own one for free confirmed the distance that it is possible for money to have from the real feeling of comfort with what one has.

I set out to obtain a Poodle with three requirements: I wanted a dog, not a puppy who could be let out without being on a leash -I am not a dog walker; one who was smart and would get whatever she needed to know on the first or second try; and one who would adore me.

It has only been 3 weeks and this 4 year old former denizen of a kennel with a brief stint in the house as a new mom, has learned to walk on a leash (and quickly to skip the leash and just follow me everywhere); pee outside (instead of in a run); go up and down steps (still a little leary of the open risers); and respond to her name.

She sits by my side in the studio, at the desk or in the kitchen, curls up beside me on the couch in the evening and doesn't get out of her bed in the morning until I do (get out of mine).

As if to prove the boundless nature of Love (while she is adoring me in abundance) she has plenty more to offer as she leans up against her new best man friend's leg when he is sitting at the fire place or curls up with him while he is reading in the early morning or watching TV at night. In return he picks her up, speaking to her sweetly and goes ga ga in the supermarket for any dog food that sounds like it came off a swanky steak house menu.

...The Chance for Snow

2007-01-23T14:16:00.000-08:00

I am glad that Erin and Jamie are still blogging away.
I have no real excuse for not keeping up with my intentions to redeem my youthful diary deficit, maybe it is because King is home and therefore I have someone to talk to, but that is silly, there's still a lot to say.
Let's see, hmmm...
The winter coldness has finally arrived in the middle of January. I am happy about this but in a somewhat depleted condition after 6 weeks of a head full of debris, I sighed as I lit the morning fire in the studio wood stove - to raise the temp from 45 degrees to a more welcoming clime - thinking well it was a late start to this chill so it won't be too much longer... I prefer my normal enthusiasm for the adventure of lighting the morning fire.
In an effort to reclaim my health I have taken to napping when I can. I set the timer for an hour and grab a hot water bottle and begin the therapy. Today I had an annoying dream towards wake up time. There was a little device of some kind that would beep when someone was at the door. Well it wouldn't stop beeping even after being reset, and finding there was noone at the door. In the dream I tried to figure out how to stop it and every time I thought I had it, a few seconds later it would sound again. I thought this was an interesting clue about how time is not the same in dreams... I finally got up (15 real minutes later) and ambled to the kitchen to turn off the timer.

The Actual Party

2007-01-03T09:11:00.000-08:00

Well the party was a huge success. There were some sad folks whose email invites didn't reach them but my role was not to butt in or try to pick up any pieces so... As a result I have decided that we should have parties more often. Who needs a 60th birthday as the excuse? I hope I can keep that spark of an intention alive and really have a great new year of social energy.
Jamie turned out to be more than a consultant. She came over the night before and spent the day making chile and THE cake (black forest from scratch). She was well pleased with herself and rightly so. King had a job to finish by the 1st so he was busy with that in the morning. After lunch the two of them moved furniture, vacuumed, put out the dishes and silverware, and did a fabulous job of preparing. There was a moment when I had to absent myself so that I wouldn't interfere - I went to return the bag of moldy dog food and gather in a few more supplies on their list, and then take a nap. I was well satisfied with my "letting go" efforts.
At around 6:00 the perfect mix of people arrived with the perfect amount of salad, hors d'oeuvres and a generous oversupply of desserts. Everybody seemed to mingle well and enjoy each other. King was in charge of timing and food placement announcing the main meal, dessert, etc, while I got to circulate without the distractions of any party duties - the place I often hide. He was johnny on the spot with dish doing to the point where I had to beg him to come hang out with us towards the end. I promised to help when people left if he would give up his post in favor of a little conversation. People left by about midnight and as Jamie remarked, Justin my former student, friend and a divine human being, was the first to arrive and the last to leave. I told him he could rent himself out as the life of the party as he is so interesting and has something to contribute to every conversation. The evening had been a full one. There were self guided tours of the cob-studio-by-night and new admirers introduced to the wonders of natural building. We met my neice Katy's mystery man (none of us had met him and he's been in the picture for over a year). Relatives and friends alike were gathered and I felt celebrated with wonderful cards and the best food and conversation. I even felt the presence of relatives who live at a distance with emails, cards and phone calls. What a lucky girl I am! I asked and it was given! It's the deal that is always waiting for us when we know what we want - that last part is the trick.

The True Meaning of the Word Blog

2006-12-26T13:23:00.000-08:00

I think the sound of the word "blog" is perfect onomatopoeia for chocolate-covered cornflake-over-indulgence.
I am pooped. I had the time of my life preparing Christmas dinner and home for the family but I am depleted and this morning after a lovely breakfast party, misguidedly turned to the aforementioned seasonal temptation as a substitute for a ton of water and a long walk followed by a restorative nap. All that takes time and frankly my inner child got the upper hand before I could whack her on the knuckles, God she is a whiner!
Now its dinner time and I am going to cash in on my last chance coupon. No matter that darkness is gathering and deer hunting season is in full swing and that my red jacket will not have the proper distinguishing qualities to clearly say "human-in-the-late-stages-of-blog". If I don't return is it suicide or just another misdirected effort to make a better choice?

OOPS!

2006-12-23T05:10:00.000-08:00

Don't know what happened there. That's not what I meant by serialized.

Ask And It Is Given

2006-12-23T04:46:00.003-08:00

This is actually a title of a great book that is currently sweeping the nation in some circles and it seems an apt title for this post which may even appear in serialized form.
When asked by my husband, "what do you want to do for your birthday" I took a turn to the left and heard myself repeat the question with an emphasis on "what do you want". It was so much easier than thinking what do people do when they are about to turn 60 for the first and last time in this incarnation? What do I want? That's a no brainer. I want attention, I want to be fussed over, I want to be celebrated. And really It is the one day (or occasion) when you don't have to question whether you deserve so much air space. Deserve-shmerve, it's my day! SO, I said "I want you to give me a party". Woah! That was so simple and so true.
Now the hidden treasure here is that I am not in charge and have no place in saying how he does it. Such an excellent exercise for me who by nature likes to alter any little gem that I see before me. I trust him completely because I know that he knows me and I know that he is brilliant and can figure this out. Another great thing is that he was initially scared, saying my standards are so high, but I see him really taking it up with his full attention, as if #1 He could really do it and #2 It really mattered.
So far I have had several opportunities to stop myself from getting involved and watched the amazing results.
I will report more as the plot thickens. So far he is inviting a ton of people with an eye towards combining many different groups of my friends, he's being a social architecht. I love that he is using his good stuff on me!!

Ask And It Is Given

2006-12-23T04:46:00.001-08:00

Ask And It Is Given

2006-12-23T04:46:00.000-08:00

Ticked Off

2006-12-23T04:26:00.000-08:00

Everything on that list has been ticked off or removed due to insufficient interest.
I look back with satisfaction on the two wreaths I made, one for the chicken house and one for our house. The lights are on the tree and the cloud orchestra, an elaborate candle lit collection of tiny wooden angels playing their instruments, has taken its new place on one of the few too many pieces of furniture now residing in the dining room. I even jazzed up the sprig of bittersweet that was hanging out on the front door, adding some greens, a star and some slices of kumquat dangling from golden threads. The candlestick order for a clay customer didn't fit into my "make your house fair as you are able" theme so it was out-a-there. And a few other odious tasks are just a dim memory.

Makin A List, Dreading It Twice

2006-12-21T06:53:00.000-08:00

I am so not in the grip of the Christmas spirit. So the list I've been making has been the running tally of things to be done to get to the prize, the Christmas spirit. Its a mystery whether I will get them done in time for there to be any reason to keep seeking the elusive CS.
Today's big items are not inspiring and so I'm blogging - I do see the folly in this but I am hungry for some fun.
I'll check in later to report on how I have managed to make this gray day of dull events sparkle themselves into oblivion.

Oh Christmas Tree

2006-12-18T07:51:00.000-08:00

I have been energized by the recent Buy Fresh Buy Local campaign. It is one of those helpful guidelines for life. I like it better than price and am I worth it. It makes me feel good about selling my pottery too, rather than self consciously saying "who would buy this? I wouldn't , I would make it." While it helps me feel better about selling I do realize that I need some value therapy, it's hard when you are a do-it-yourselfer to imagine what other people are willing to pay. Just yesterday I had a customer add a donation onto his total because he didn't think I was asking enough.
Anyway... we got our tree about 2 miles from our house. It was great to regard the short little tree, satisfied that we had bought from a local buisiness owner who is also a friend. It even eclipsed my distaste for short trees as they tend to suggest, in my mind, ooo, getting older are you? Soon time for no excitement at all at your house? We agreed to put it up on blocks.

Blogging Has Fallen Off The Edge Of My Plate - Help!

2006-12-18T06:16:00.000-08:00

It was weird to find out that someone who was looking for directions to my pottery sale yesterday Googled me and found my blog. People usually ask me "can anybody read your blog? And how do they find it if they don't know you"? Now I have an answer. I hope someone asks again.

It amazes me the way we are updating ourselves to a new way of thinking and communicating and relating to each other on both a small and huge scale and how technology is so thoroughly driving that evolution. It SEEMS to be more challenging for many of us nearly seniors, but kids are coming in to this incarnation with more codons of DNA so it make sense that they have the scoop. We who are already here can actually upload additional faculties; I think the computer is involved in this offer of an upgrade. Bloggiing seems to give me exercise in ordering my thoughts, cutting down on the run on sentences that are my life. And ordering a book on line stretches the imagination from start to finish

After a bit of a frenzied beginning yesterday's Cob Studio event was another great time. People came, bought pottery, hung out,roasted chestnuts, enjoyed the magic of cob, and even liked walking up the hill from the parking lot. I am reflecting on a quandary: having a team mate who is a self-starter with cleanup but seems to have a divergent agenda in times of preparation. I wonder if I my ad inadvertently reads: Mature woman, hard to please, seeks mind reader. Time to place a new ad: Cheerful, energetic Boy Scout needed for occasional special events. Or, is this a job for the Time Bank?

Where Does The Time Go?

2006-11-13T15:27:00.000-08:00

Woah! I must have forgotten to sign out last time 'cuz it sure was easy to get to the dashboard. Hey girls, is that something I should care about?

Woah! -again. I have neither read my girls' blogs nor posted my own in what seems to be this lifetime. I wonder if I have all of a sudden given up talk-to-yourself therapy, or have I been to busy to remember?

I love reading Erin's blog especially as I realize that when we talk on the phone I forget to ask things like what does your house look like and what does your bed look like and how big was the truck? I think I just quickly go to my generic house, bed and truck picture file and slip them into the space between the words. I always love her language in print anyway so its just as well.

Yes what about that Cob Party that Sara commented on Erin's blog about? Surely it was at least equal to the acorn pate, but got no mention...curious. Maybe the fact that it was on the front page of the newspaper made me think I had written aboout it myself.

Moving forward, I AM in love with the Cob Studio! I was so inspired by the social space that it became more than a week ago, that I have moved in more thoroughly. I installed the wing chair that I gleaned from the curb near Jame's house, right next to the wood stove,put in the place of the rickety card table that just was all wrong, and even entertained Meryl for supper as a reenactment of the gala. There was wine leftover -it happens when you buy a 3 liter box of each of two colors, a table cloth, soup and corn bread warmed on the wood stove, and something temporarily forgettable for dessert.

Study group was cancelled for tonight and I thought I might go to the movies but here I am blogging. Which brings me to a new realization of a great abcess that is festering around my being lead off course by something that becomes urgent just because it pops up on my screen.

Speaking of that, dinner time is quickly leaving the station and if I don't grab for the conductor in a minute here I'll be very sad.

Other highlights of my absence include, Having the time of my life at: selling my stuff at the Phoenixville Farmers Market, watching LOST HORIZON at the Colonial, going to the dentist with Jame and Ivy, having good fun cousins nearby to eat with and have fun with, hearing the news that King is actually coming home, reportedly for Thanksgiving, making stuff for the upcoming craft shows and being reborn in the knowledge that I really do always have enough even though I have had three unscheduled but highly successful selling events and my shelves are looking bare...AND my Friday morning adults class is a highlight of each week. What a lucky girl I am. And I haven't whined publicly or privately for at least three weeks.

I had a great lesson in manifesting what you want the other day but I have no time to elaborate -I am choosing dinner instead.

Just Like My Side of the Mountain Except for the Chainsaw and the Swearing

2006-10-26T18:33:00.000-07:00

Wow! I have not done this in so long I almost forgot how to log in.

I Like Erin's idea of some shorties when time is scarce.

The last of the edible plants class consisted of the most amazing meal starting with acorn pate (ya have to boil them 12 times til they aren't bitter)and moving through comfrey leaf and dandilion flower fritters, flat bread made with wild amaranth seeds and ww flour and another version with lambs quarters seeds (related to quinoa), we winnowed the seeds. There was nettle soup and nettle tort using both the stinging kind and the non stinging (our fingers were stung even though we were careful as we prepared them -it was a wierd feeling). There was the usual wild salad with a host of characters, and roasted chestnuts just to eat from the shell. There were more chestnuts that went into the heavenly concoction of persimmon and sweet tender chestnut ice cream. To top it off there was elderflower champaigne and OH I forgot the bitters to start were... uh, tasty but I forget what they were made of.

Tody I had a melt down as I was trying to replenish my firewood supply before the stuff I ordered comes. I had gotten the guy at the hardware store to put the sharpened blade on the chainsaw and set out to tackle a downer that was sufficiently aged to be a good subject. The usually responsive starter refused to have the desired effect. I chilled and busied myself with a kindling fest (talk about gifts falling from the sky, and tried again, and again (by now I had a whole cart of kindling. When I was starting to snivel about my plight I decided to go for a round of full out yelling including a peppery collection of satisfying swear words. I topped it off with a bellowing incantation of "give me a god damn break and I mean it"! The little sucker started right up. But just to let me know who's boss it ran out of gas in about 5 cuts -and I had just filled it! The tank is really no bigger than a thimble.

I'll save the news of the impending Cob Studio celebration.

How Many Ingredients

2006-10-05T07:50:00.000-07:00

Its been too long since my last post. I feel the overflow of narrative being sand bagged by urgent dealings with phantom details of living.

My daughters, once again, inspire me to get on with it as I read their commentaries.
The following may serve to clean up the kitchen of past meals that wanted reporting.

The most recent was my encounter this a.m. with the man on the phone at Charles Schwab who we will call George because I have no qualms about revealing his true identity. It started when I asked how to find the transfer form on line that I needed to download about my mother's estate. All of a sudden I wanted to squeeze through the phone and send him to the office to be fired. It was about logging into the site and saying I had to look up my husband's name and password. George boomed out the words "you should not be able to know that" and I gathered all of the tired, insecure, lonely, abandoned feelings that snuck up on me yesterday while I thought I was living a grown up life of abundance. My own power was supplanted by thoughts of "this is MINE and YOU shut up". The wounded little girl rears her uncared for identity. Poor little thing, she needs a nap.

Next: I have been meaning to report the count and character of the salad ingredients in last week's foraging at the edible plants class and a nod to groundhog college road.
sheep sorrel
galensoga
dandelion
chickweed
plantain (2 kinds)
wood sorrel
yellow dock
horseradish leaf
jerusalem artichoke (*we cheated on this and one other in that they were cultivated)
wild onion/garlic
red clover
comfrey
perilla (shiso, the purple mint that makes umi plum paste red)
asparagus (*the other)
It was yummy and the company was wonderful. I met a delightful young woman named Dani who cheerfully stuffed a healthy handfull of dandilion greens in her purse announcing she was taking them to a friend. She lives nearby and wants to see the cob.

Next: I am whining about taking King's tile table to an art show. It is a symbol. He was going to be home by Sept. 30 and therefore HE would be putting it on top of the car and driving it to West Chester...

I think the clog has passed. I must sign off. My young friend Maureen is coming from NJ to make clay spoon rests and she is on her way. I may have time to get my brochure done before she gets here -today's MUST DO task (besides the damn table).

The thought in my mind is don't forget to notice the beautiful white teeth on that dead dog lying mangled and rotting by the side of the road. Let's hear it for the miracle of canine dentition.

And here it is: Maureen is also bringing what sounds like a yummy lunch, as if her presence is not enough.

Power Tool Therapy Sweeping the Nation

2006-09-25T19:12:00.000-07:00

In Erin's recent blog she refers to a previously debilitating fear of power tools that she is currently transforming. It is ironic that we seem to be cleaning out some of the same metphorical closets and naming some of the same suspects in the crimes against Self.

For myself I even went so far as to revere hand tools from prehistoric times, like the fondly remembered hand drill from grade school woodworking. It symbolized an empowerment then that I couldn't maintain at the helm of the loud and dangerous newcomers, which I held in paralyzing contempt. It was okay by me to have someone who could do it better. But that's were the whining in me began, when there wasn't someone there to do it for me.

Today I was doing some repair work on an old treadle potter's wheel.
There was no way to do this without the power saw and the drill. The drill didn't worry me, even though once long ago I got my hair caught in one and ended up with an oversized ornament on my head. But the saw...King always very kindly warned us girls "get ready for noise" -that was something else. Knowing I HAD to do these repairs, I timed it just right and tried out the saw just before Jame and Scott came yesterday just in case...and to my surprise even though I was cutting an awkward piece of warped plywood perched at a half-assed angle on top of a wood pile (my specialty -impulsive research),I really didn't hear the saw as loud at all. It was wierd, there was no shallow breathing, no weak knees, no shakey hands (thank goodness), so I cut it again -same thing, just a piece of wood getting smaller and I was in charge, and the sound just a buzz muffled by my own power.

The inner whining about having to do the project myself went on for most of the day today as I went about the renovations. I did all the things I would have rolled my eyes at King for: there was a trip to the hardware store for a bolt, a chuck key, and a drill bit; there were numerous trips to the house to find things; and the biggest of all -it took all day. The whining was really about the fact that if only I had some man here to do this for me it would take about a half an hour. Believe me I mentally panned the neighborhood and imagined myself approaching some unsuspecting retired fellow digging around in his garage. Luckily that held less appeal than toughing it out. The beauty of the whole exercise was that there was no man to do it for me and waiting until one happened along was not an option. What is going on in the universe these days? I feel like my life of thistley lessons has been put into hyperdrive. Is this a test? I can't help hoping there will be a prize.

The piece de resistance was that when I thought I was finished, the wheel didn't work and the real task still lay before me. I was forced to sit down and ponder. The first part had been easy as there were rotten pieces that needed to be refashioned and replaced but now there was the mystery of why the wheel wobbled. I'm not even going to tell you some of the things I tried in desperate attempts to find a simple solution. By this point I was tiring of the tedium of this process.

When hair-brained ideas had spun themselves to death, the miracle of thought presented itself and I saw, plainly, that this medium that required so many steps, including measuring with an instrument instead of an eyeball (don't worry I did a lot of that too), was exactly like making something out of clay, or sewing a dress when you can't understand the pattern, or probably creating a web site (no not that, PLEASE). You start with the idea, know the materials, and solve the problem according to what the materials and the tools can do. Sinchy, especially when you delete the resistance.

I'm not exactly finished but I do know exactly what to do in the morning when I will whoop and holler to announce my victory.

Station Break

2006-09-16T11:53:00.000-07:00

Hey I finally found out that people have been leaving comments -What fun!
I, of course don't know how to reply yet. Can somebody tell me?

It's raining and cold. I have a heap of stuff on my plate and a large portion of it inticate but defusable fears. In the interest of earning dessert I'd better dig in and try to clip the right wires in the right order so my mashed potatoes don't get blown up by the mystery meat, ASAP.

Perhaps there will be adventure to report

Station Break

2006-09-16T11:20:00.000-07:00

The Golden Light Is On

2006-09-12T08:32:00.000-07:00

I'm singing the praises of intuition today. There are always two ways to look at it but here's what works for me.

I am consciously on the lookout for guidance and serendipity and inquiring into the hidden messages. Even now my inner critic is throwing up the usual pat phrases that warn me against saying these things out loud because we all know that people who think this way are either intellectually lacking or lazy; or of murky mental health. This goes right along with the blog of a few days ago: accessing my intuition is that Oneness and in the moment thing. So enough from the voice of the small self and its silly tricks. Here's the true story of my intuition lately.

I was looking for a bottle of probiotics that I had bought in preparation for taking antibiotics for the lyme disease that I have been working on. A couple of months had passed since the puchase. Now it was time to look for the bottle. So having no luck with the slow method of locating a forgotten object I said (outloud because I was alone -but it works if I just think it) "please help me find the ...." within the next second my eyes landed on a ripe pear on the counter and, distractable as I am, I thought it should go into the fridge right away. When I opened the door it hit me that I had put the bottle in the fridge. After some minor rooting around I retrieved what I was looking for. There's more.

Just this am I found something on the computer that I had lost. I looked in all the logical (to me) places and was just about to give up when another idea of a place to look came to me (an intuitive pop-up), and there it was.

Even more recently while out on a therapeutic walk just now, reflecting on insights of a buddy on this morning's coaching group call, I put a silent question out there and stood at my post alert for a reply. In just a few steps I looked down and a perfect acorn lay calling to me in my path (I adore whole acorns for their great potential to become things like a tiny hollow box with a lid, etc..). Unsure what it meant I picked it up (of course) and kept walking, surveying the ground, noticing other acorns all having lost the possibility of ever becoming trees, (or tiny boxes) at the tread of car tires or crater of elephant feet. They were all in terrible shape, and, I mused almost unrecognizable. The messsage was clear, the line is open, and goldenrod glows out the message of abundance.

Back to Groundhog College

2006-09-10T12:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's workshop on Edible Wild Plants took us to a shady stream punctuated by two water falls with a diversion through a natural looking stone and concrete swimming pool, on a farm that is home to three generations of the original farming family, each involved in supportive occupations keeping the land alive and working. There is a horse farm, a vegetable CSA, a timber framing operation, and a poultry CSA piloted by a grand mother and her son and daughter and that daughter's daughter and cousin.
The piece de resistance of the day besides the butterfly bush in full flight, the magical tent beneath a drooping ancient spruce tree, warm clear sunshine, beady wet new-mown grass, and a recently expired sulpher colored moth which we posed as a decoration on the day's salad, was the making of that salad.

Of the things that we pass by everyday scornfully referring to as just weeds, the following became the abundance of nature in full radiance, topped with a mustard vinegrett dressing:

tender parts of:
dandelion, leaves and buds
wood sorrel,leaves and flowers
sheep sorrel
knotweed, leaves and flowers
plantain, broad and narrow leaved
chicory flowers
amaranth leaves
galensoga, leaves and flowers
red clover, top leaves and flowers
curley dock
violet leaves
lambs quarters
garlic mustard
wild chives
and purple leaf purilla

The salad was carefully constructed to balance the flavors including smaller amounts of bitter and sour, rounded out by lots of milder flavors, so as not to be too intense.

I love this century, you can use your dishwasher, or go down to the local stream, grow fresh salads all summer by mowing the lawn, to produce a constant supply of new growth or go the the Food Hole and see your friends.

Clear, Partly Cloudy And A Chance Of Eternal Sunshine

2006-09-10T11:06:00.000-07:00

I have a new thought on Bi-Polarness and Schitzophrenia. I feel qualified to share my findings as I am sure I frequent both of these conditions.
What if, the aforementioned were manifestations of the phenomenon of, for want of the real term, ego/oneness coordination. Not unlike eye/hand coordination that we can all understand as a baby's hand reaches for something and then has trouble getting those fingers to open and close at the right time to grasp the thing.

If, in the universe, everything is connected as quantum physics suggests, and we persist in perceiving everything as separate, as our difficulties with our fellow human beings suggest (i.e. the root of our not being able to let people be who they are, or reluctance to give up judgmental behaviors), then it makes sense that our difficulties lie in the infancy of the development of our faculties of perception especially the ones that reconnect us and everything else through the kind of forgiveness that sees what is as just that, not something good or bad or threatening or...whatever.

Now I realize that my personal problem with the whole notion of this kind of forgiveness, aside from it not being part of my skill set is that the implications as I understand them from the metaphysical point of view is that if we master this and become One we will not need to reincarnate and heck I love this earthly life with all its drawbacks because I still think it is like a great and wonderful non-competitive game where you get to try things and see how they turn out -not unlike experimenting with the amount of rutile I put in my last batch of glaze, and then try again at something else. So, here's the dilemma: to perfect life and achieve eternal bliss, or skip the instructions and try to figure it out yourself because it makes the project last longer.

The beauty of it all is, either way, it's not over tomorrow, and going for the apparent progressive path will still garner me plenty of re-dos. What would it hurt if every now and then I had a one-ness glimpse, there'd still be plenty of practice time. Here's another one. Practice time: when I play the recorder for fun or "practice" it doesn't invoke the trauma that would arise if I were about to go on stage. This go-on-stage thing is the epitome of the experience of separateness and the fun of just playing is the epitome of being in the moment and that is the experience of One-ness.

Oh how dumb! We already DO have lots of One-ness time -the game is to reduce the alone time. Alone time has two aspects: not in the physical company of others, and perceiving the outer world as being the stage.

If anyone reading this shakes their head to give the page a chance to untangle, it might make me sad that I'm not being cheered on in the comfort of my own language but heck, I speak a lot of languages and so does everybody else -surely my connection isn't dependent on something as trivial as the identical experience even though One-ness actually IS identical experience (on a metaphysical level)

To round out this picture. I failed philosophy in college, I don't like using a ruler, King often glazes over and says ("HELP") "they are just words, I don't really know what you are talking about", and I've had friends who wander off in search of fresh air, permanently. It's me who interprets those things as disqualifying events.

Oh Yay! Am I getting more co-ordinated? 'Feels like it. The good news is I'm only encouraged, not manic, and closer to being in tune rather than insisting I'm the real Jesus. But you can see, can't you where it could go in the extreme?

What the Fuss! (Shay says) Is Life A Pot Luck?

2006-09-10T07:17:00.000-07:00

I am having an Erin's-Lasagna-fears-moment.
She says that sometimes she feels fine about where she is and what she's doing but then she gets to noticing that it's as if she's at a pot luck enjoying her first helping of lasagna at her own pace and becomes aware that everyone else has moved on to dessert...
And either there is no more lasagna for seconds or there will be no dessert left or... something that I can readily identify when I notice that I am busy responding to life in my own way, toughing it out, being Pollyanna, deferring to the other, figuring I must wait, thinking there's nothing more I can do, etc... when I look up and see someone else doing something that hits me like a ton of bricks and says -"shit man! I have been fooling around here, that person knows how to get what they want" Then I go back to my own process and wonder what the message is in that. I know - here it is , are you ready for this? If I was only someone else I would be all right.
Oh how stupid.
I'm going out to brunch.
And besides I know ther's enough for everybody -its just poorly distributed. Any body know of a good heavy hauler?

Looks like A Time Bank Theme and The Studio Come s To Completion

2006-09-08T17:55:00.000-07:00

I need to stay awake for another hour to turn up the kiln. I'll try to make this interesting enough to get me through.

Well it's been a while since my last post and many wonderful things have transpired.

In summary there was the marathon weekend at Sara and TR's with some of the world's most interesting people. It went on and on starting with scones on Saturday morning and ending with Chinese take out for a recap on Monday night.
This event reminded me the value of stopping work when the weekend comes. It was so fun to look forward to the levity after a week of the usual gravity. It also reminded me that I was going to spruce up my social life but seem only to be in a passive mode about that -I leap at the chance to go where I'm invited but haven't gathered much enthusiasm for having people over. I think I feel lame about being a single person entertaining -perhaps I remind myself of my mother. When my father died at the age of 59 (the age I am now) my mother continued on in a solitary style until she was 93. It often didn't look like much fun. And it still doesn't. Hey I know maybe my Time Dollars account will get me a temporary co-host, I'd be happy to repay in kind.

Tomorrow I go for the 2nd session of the edible medicinal herbs course -gotta remember to leave a little early to get gas, and maybe a treat as Mick likes to do.

Ivy learned to roll over today. What a fun thing to watch each new marker in her little life -even though I am sad that we can't just leave her on a picnic table while we turn to look at something, anymore. As Jame suggests there will be many compensating benefits to her being allowed to get older and do more things.

I think I saw a bumble bee become lunch for a frog today while I was picnicking by the pond -I just missed a clear view.

I've had a second Time Banker come and sift pebbles for another batch of cob plaster -TR's brilliant suggestion. I think this may be the last batch I need. Imagine that -the whole building completely plastered. Next I shall spread straw all over the floor to distract visitors from the unfinished nature of the floor.

I've put out an alert on the Time Bank web for a couple of strong men to come and help me move the Potter's wheels in next Monday, so it is shaping up for actual students.

Oh, the best thing! -I installed the sink in the studio, myself! I sawed off about 5" of the plastic drain pipe, sticking up out of the floor, and inserted the metal drain pipe hanging out the bottom of the sink, into the plastic. First I sawed the thing crooked but that was easy enough to re-saw. The sink does not have the customary legs so the whole affair resembles an articulated chihuahua in the rear window of a car. It's temporary but I, once again, feel resourceful. I often wonder if my resourcefulness has contributed to my current solitary life.

I also hung as many of the rice paper globes on the bare bulbs in the cob, as I could reach unaided by a colossus, and they look darn good.

I hadn't been to my favorite Chinese buffet in weeks so I thought lest they forget me and my penchant for peach buns, I'd better revisit them tonight -otherwise what I take for my lunch tomorrow would have also been tonight's supper. I took a book (about Time Dollars) and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I just find it fun to be able to chose what I want and go back again for the same thing, like I'm in my own kitchen having seconds, but a crew of chinese Time Bank members came to cater.
Most chinese buffets have almost identical decor but I love this one because it is not oversized or rectangular, it is homey and square and the women who run it talk to the customers -think about it when was the last time you saw Asian restauranteurs make casual conversation with the customers? And they hadn't forgotten me.

Ah time to turn the kiln to high and cross my fingers that the plate that Rita ordered doesn't break like the last time -and there's another possible bad thing -was there too much rutile in the glaze? Why do I experiment in tight situations?

One more good thing. When I turned the kiln to medium I somehow ran full force into the sharp corner of the towel bar on the back of the door with my head. I immediately burst into loud sobs with copious tears. I guess I'd been storing those up -I fell a whole lot better. What a wonder the human body and soul!

Start To Finish -And then DO It

2006-08-28T19:09:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I cooked a lot of stuff.. It was time to replenish my "cupboard" and how I know that is the fact that three meals in a row had been peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,and had I not run put of bread it might have taken yet another round to get my attention. So meal time has again become a bright spot that punctuates my days of constant activity. I realize that I am most grateful to all of my projects that have so generously kept me busy and self satisfied this summer.

Speaking of projects. I did get around to tackling the sewing room which was a bit depressing for a time until I took up the challenge of finishing some of the ideas hanging midway between the enthusiasm of their conception and the dead end of running into a bit of a snag. I am pleased to report that the tea cozy made out of squares of felted sweater parts has been cleverly completed and installed on a tea pot and is cunning as Aunt Martie would say. And the bath mat made out of strips of different colored print and plain fabric tied onto a rectangle of monks cloth is currently half the size of its original intention but completely adequate owing to a gross miscalculation, and is not only in position at the shower door but has also been stepped out onto with wet feet. I have a nagging suspicion that once it is put into the wash it will have to apply for some other role in the domestic scene but at the moment I have no idea what that would be other than filler in some cob structure. So as a temporary new bit of decor I am enjoying it and preparing for the zen moment of it's passing on.

The next to swing into the finish line will be a zipper repair on a dress for Jame -for next summer. And after that -the dreaded job of selling extra bamboo flooring on Craig's list. The drudge is measuring it -well when I see it in writing I say "what's the big deal?" This blogging can be so illuminating! What a wierd concept "talk-to-yourself-therapy" possibly overheard by unknown passers by.

More updates to follow.

Where do young ground hogs gather?

2006-08-26T13:37:00.000-07:00

I had the time of my life again today.
I got up early -always a good start to something I've been looking forward to, and followed map quest directions -made it even more like a entertainment, through beautiful country that I'd never seen before. There were lots of farms and everything looked lush and prosperous in spite of the dry spell we've been having. Maybe it was the thickened pre-percipitation air that gave everything a little topical moisturizing.

There were lots of new roads, many with peculiar names -my favorite was Ground Hog College Rd.

The occasion for enthusiasm was a medicinal herb workshop at a CSA near Deleware. The information was so exciting, and the people were more, previously unknown members of 'my group'. We each made an Herbarium which is a notebook with specimens of plants and their various parts taped to the pages rounded out by notes on their latin names, families, species, and uses, be that food, medicine, or poisin. These were all common wild plants that are probably mostly considered weeds. Many have been the basis of healing since the begining of time. As a matter of fact Alopathic medecine as we know it is only about a hundred years old. These plants were our first medecines. Some are even still used by pharmaceutical companies but many have been synthisized or in other ways altered form their original purity.

For lunch, we gathered lambs quarters and purslane, to be the basis of a salad. Flowers of chicory, nasturtium, and dandelion were added for color as well as nourishment. Peppermint leaves and queen ann's lace seeds were an optional condiments, along with soaked (lightly sprouted) almonds and sunflower seeds. It was quite delicious and thrilling to gather and prepare while sharing information from each other's experience.

On the way home, while in the foraging mood I responded with a screech of the brakes and a quickly applied turn signal, to the Highland Orchards sign, a place where you can pick your own fruit. I probably only saved 5 cents a pound over buying what was alresdy in their store but the time of my life continued as I plucked apples, peaches,and pears from the perfectly sized trees. They are not organic but they are definately fresh and local -gotta keep the orchard in business if they are ever to become organic. And besides IF we eat a fairly clean diet our liver can to filter out the toxins. Its all a mattere of volume and frequency.

Right now, mostly worn out, I am tempted to wish I had something fun to do. I do! the sewing room organizing! And tomorrow another movie -this one has more promise, it is about the view the angels had of Berlin during the war. It is an old one I've never heard of before. Oh and I forgot there is more work to do too -plastering and potting -fun!

Day Off

2006-08-25T18:17:00.000-07:00

Well its always an adventure getting to the posting area, but today was much quicker but not without mystery.

The weather forecast repeated the same noncommital clouds and sun, with a possible stray shower without a hint of emotion or investment in the percentages, so I dawdled a while putting together a spartan pb&j and iced decaf together with an old sheet, a beach towel, and a personal sized picnic cloth, and finally tossed in a chair and umbrella and chancing it, headed for the beach with an unabridged book on tape for the nearly 2 hour trip.

This was to be a magic trip I knew because when I stopped at the bank a quick check revealed I had more money in my account than I expected. Just a few miles down the road when I stopped to get some mouchoires I had my second serendipitous encounter. On my way out of the store a large African American man with a large diamond like stone in his ear parked next to my car greeted me from his car, with the usual. I, in turn, inquired after his well-being which yielded an invitation to ask more whereupon he gratefully shared that his mom had just recieved the kidney she'd been waiting for for months. Happy to be drawn in to this man's joy and a glimpse of his inner life I lingered in wishing him and his mother well and finally resumed my journey, marveling all the while at the magic of connection between strangers.

Once on the turnpike the usual thoughts of this being the perfect time for my car to have some kind of a breakdown found their way to the front of my mind. Would it be certain death or just an expensive inconvenience? The smarter part of me mercifully intervened and held up a picture of the reruns of this scenario calling it nonsense, the habitual companion of my innocent enthusiasm.

The drive was uncomplicated, the gas tank held out for our favorite Wawa in NJ where you don't have to pump your own gas and the price was good. The station is located at the same exit as Seasonal World -a store that I more than once have thought would, at this time of year, have a sale on beach items -this time I was looking for one of those simple little cabana items to replace the umbrella that too often poses a threat to other bathers in cases of windy weather. And again, when I reached the door it was clear that they had moved into the next season already as Halloween costumes and a notice saying closed for inventory reminded me to update my files and forget about Seasonal World in the future.

The clouds were begining to alternate with sun as I turned off the highway and entered the town of Avon-by-the-Sea. The crowd looked sparce and I began to hope for one of the prime parking spots right at the beach. The magic resumed as I began my "a parking place is opening up for me now" routine complete with utter certainty that no one would be leaving those coveted spots. Just as I slapped myself around a little on theat one just ahead of me (well actually just ahead of the person in front of me) some one was backing out. I took note of the striking coincidence of my momentary laps of belief and the just missed it timing I had witnessed. Fortified by that bracing lesson I held fast to the reality that what I wanted was there for me. Lo and behold there it was, ten seconds later, the perfect spot with that coveted sea side view for free -all day.

Things kept on going like that, the air was pleasantly cool, the sun came and went, I had a great magazine, talked to a few strangers, didn't burn myself, saw a family who wasn't afraid to have their little boy run naked on the beach, and made it home in time to take up my brother and sister-in-law on their invitation to a scrumptious dinner. It was a restorative day of collecting treasures.

The Little Sister Bites

2006-08-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

Phew! I'm exausted! It just took me an hour to get back into this blog. This is really testing my fortitude for diary healing.

I'm rethinking going to the movies just because I can. I went tonight for some diversion. I ate a peanut butter and fruit spread sandwich with an iced decaf to go (from therefrigerator at home), on the way. Leaving barely enough time to go straight there. So I dashed into the library to pick up the audio book I had ordered, then raced into the Food Hole (our local independent Kimberton Whole Foods) to exchange some goats milk yogurt that had not reached yogurt status, for some good old Seven Stars cow yogurt, and a stand of celery (looking robust and crisp), and arrived at the Colonial Theater just in time. I didn't even get my customary parking spot on the street -had to go to the lot out back, but still I made it.

I should have been tipped off when I got to the concession stand to get the next course of my evening meal, and Scott said "I didn't have you figured for this movie", as he reached for my signature snow caps. "no snow caps tonight...I need another vegetable to compliment my sandwich -pop corn please" I lamely told him that I had heard something about this movie and I wanted to see for my self.

I went up to the balcony to sit with my mother, and by that I mean to sit in the seat that sports her name, mentioning that we gave it to the theater so that she could dip in from eternity at any time and check out the earthly entertainment scene.

Well not only did the movie fail to launch in the catagory of earthly entertainment but, to go along with my being embarrassed for the actors and myself for being there, I stretched my discomfort a half a mile further (not being one to under do) and realized that once again my innocent little pea sized sense of the world had failed to alert me when I selected this upper level vantage point for my mother, that people go up there to be alone, with a date -not just for the thrill of being in the balcony (like I do). So not only is someone else usually sitting in or too close to the seat I'm headed for but I am either the only single up there or on the occasion that I go with a woman friend, could be mistaken for bing on a date myself.

All this is to alert you, and I'm sure most of you already know this, that Strangers With Candy is Amy Sedaris taking flagrant advantage of her hilarious brother's good name to get into my personal space, and I want my evening back. Heck, I toyed with the idea of rearranging the sewing room. The only way to erase my error in judgment would be to take on the sewing room now, at 30 minutes past midnight, and in the morning pretend that nothing else had happened happened, I'd have to make something up about how that glorious arbor of celery and an unopened tub of yogurt ended up in my fridge and how come there were wierd little popcorn skins stuck in my back teeth?

There is an ant with a see-through posterior section canvassing the keys as I type. I know him from the other day. He looks like he's going up to the balcony as he traverses each row of letters from bottom to top over and over again. Is he mocking me or just another seeker trying to round out his work day? Maybe I'll take him to the beach with me tomorrow -we both could use a refund.

The Best Things (the best things)

2006-08-20T16:26:00.000-07:00

Jamie, my youngest daughter is a hyperbolist, and by that I mean she has infected me with an appreciation for life that leads me to report to her and others who would understand, on the occasions when "I am having the time of my life", or "the best day of my life". She began reporting in this way and I love the mind expanding thought that one can experience these events with astonishing regularity. Debunking the myth that 'the best' is rare, reserved for the few (heck, the one) and even unattainable by the ordinary person.

Yesterday was quite the opposite for at least several hours, actually while I was preparing food for friends who were coming that evening for a birthday party. The misery had nothing to do with the impending party and I tried to quell my anxiety each time I added a new ingredient into my banquet of dishes because the Macrobotics say that what ever you are feeling when you are cooking will ultimately end up in the food and you will know this by the direction the conversation takes after the meal. As far as I could tell I didn't infect my guests with my personal disturbances. And actually after the meal, whether it was them or my own efforts to cook with antivenom, I was feeling much better which led to today becoming "the time of my life".

It started out with the daily walk to the mailbox with Patty my 16 year old spry, faithful, curley, four legged companion. And by daily I mean on the days when we fit it in. I had to walk off my party food to prepare for the next "best thing of the day", the most delightful brunch invitation from two dear cousins. It was such a lovely occasion full of substance, and caring. These cousins are real treasures, inspiring in their efforts to lead a balanced life as well as their genuine interest in the welfare of others. They have been faced with some big "what ifs?" and emerged choosing to be in charge of making life full of the important things. Our meal at an upscale buffet allowed us to engage in a common favorite activity while catering to our individual tastes of the moment (for me today was about blintzes, pizza, pancakes and bacon but not a single shrimp, next time it may be a ton of shrimp, pineapple, or eggs benedict but always the little slices of wood oven pizza).

My TMLQ (time of my life quotient) was vastly expandied by the time they dropped me off at around 2:00 and it didn't quit. I am indebted to the invention of the telephone and relieved that we have a great rate on long distance service because by this miraculous employment of unseen forces I was able to completely transform the misunderstanding that was the source of yesterday's despair. First with King who is retooling and launching new capacities to communicate his experience to me and generously trying to understand mine. And then with Erin who I needed to check in with over what my role should be to be her best MOM (mom of the moment). How much interest in her odyssey is wanted, and when does it feel like intrusion? Wow what a lot to get settled in the space of one TML day!

Switching to the other ear (we're talking a couple of hours of satisfying unsnarling) my fingers sped over the key pad to conjure up Jame. In a flash the key phrase announced another triumph for the ordinary person and a smile lit up her voice. We shared joys and accomplishments, with the same open honesty of the previous two calls -actually the tone set early in the day and parted with a plan to meet for lunch in the park next week with Ivy.

As I close I am renewed in the knowledge that I am the luckiest girl in the world and grateful for the fact that it is a title that can be held simultaneously by anyone (willing to call themselves a girl or amend it to read fellow), any where (with or without a phone), by the grace of that most confusing of words, and most precious of gifts, Love.

Ideal or Real

2006-08-17T19:14:00.000-07:00

On a recent vacation with my family -who are probably the only people reading this, the topic of "what would your ideal day look like" came up as a genuine interest in what one of our member's vision for his life is. It got me thinking about how I would answer that and as I mused over the subject casually I noticed an exclamatory picture flashing in the background of my thoughts. It had to do with the ground rules for imagining one's future -does it have to be realistic? The very catagory that defeats many a great plan. I know that some people delete any sort of job from their ideal pic, prefering to have nothing interfere with their love of leisure, and that doesn't seem realistic, having no visible means of support, but it does provide the question "Is there no 'work' that could be as fulfilling as eating bon bons and watching movies"?

But for me the idea of realism actually introduced another revealing question, what am I likely to have considering my present circumstances, and what am I allowed to have? Now I know that the whole point of this exercise is to cast a line into the future upon which you can travel to get to your dreams and that by so doing you recognize the things that are snagging your ribbon of highway and decide what to do to get over them.

One thing at a time. I'm pretending that I don't know the point of this exercise, so here goes. My ideal day unfolds with ease. There is no need to rush, because there is time for everything, if not now, then tomorrow, or some other day that I can trust will come. This is so because I am always able to decide with complete clarity what is in my best interest, and I am grounded in the knowledge that there is enough for everybody including me, and that everybody else is totally capable of making their own best choices. I am not in charge of what is best for anyone but myself and I am genuinely interested in the prosperity of each and all. Here's where it gets tricky -what will I struggle with? How will I content myself with what I see before me in the choices of others? How will I separate my truth from the truth that others know without judgement? What part in their lives will I play? This brings me over a big chasm to the place I want to be (remember, I'm only spinning the thread at the moment, not concerning myself with road work). I see myself experiencing connection to those I love in the way I prefer most -the kind of thing that is like the mystery of sharing a joke. It is the thing that makes both people light up and delight in the total brilliance of the moment that is unexplainable but metaphysically tangable.

And then I eat lunch. And after lunch everything continues to be satisfying and ...what? Except for the lunch part I think I have just made my ideal day look like I have literally died and gone to heaven -I'm dead and life all makes perfect sense. I have no more struggles to muster up courage for, or to make joy all the richer.

Okay now in a few well chosen words what does my ideal life on EARTH look like? I get up every day eagerly anticipating all the great things there are to do in my life and I have someone who "gets me" right there in the same bed with me who is glad that life is exciting for me because it is for him too. And even though he has a job that he loves that is nothing I would have chosen for my own we like to make plans to do things together that we both can enjoy, things that we have made time for, things that we have money for, things we do because we know that when we're dead they just won't be possible, things that celebrate our being alive. Here, is WHERE we are. The moment, is WHAT is. And both of us are worthy of any wonderful thing we can imagine.

How shall I get to this ideal day? Wait? Believe? Visualize? Shop? Save? Get a hundred clients? Become a famous person? Plant myself in the right location? I can't do it by directing anyone elses life. Will it happen if I direct my own?

Why would I have to give up waking up excited to do all the great things there are out there to do just because I can't catch a glimpse of my reflection in someone else's eyes? I don't have to, but I do love it when that happens. Until then: tomorrow begins with a great breakfast at my coffee table with its cushion chairs; landscaping with the lawn mower; general lifescaping with enthusiasm, the old studio, the cob studio, my social life. If I really get into it what could be missing? Even so, I'll hold a space for miraclulous surprises, knowing there are enough for me and everybody else. That is, after all, really why we're alive, or so I think.

The Lab of Life

2006-08-03T09:12:00.000-07:00

For the past several days I have been trying to figure out how to post again. I feared I had set loose a solitary blog post that would travel through cyberspace for eternity without context or hope of further connection (a fear I carry for myself at times). But Jamie, my youngest, although very old for her 29 years, in less than an hour, set me on the right path and all is well.

Things have happened in the aforementioned days that I wanted to tell you about and now its time to remember them...hmmm.

Well there was the singular human heavy equipment operator: As most of the world by now knows I am entangled in a massive project that has so far threatened to span an entire 4 years, which is building a large building out of Cob (clay, sand, straw, and water in sticky sculptable mixture). In pursuit of the completion of this foolishness I have been plastering the inside walls lately. For the very highest part I needed to be much taller than my own 5'5.75" would provide and the scaffolding called for creative measures.

Enter the behemoth platform of great length and heft. Like 16' long and HEAVILY constructed to measure only about 12" wide! It was languishing out back in a tangle of vines and needed to be moved single handedly (actually I used both hands -was that cheating?) up hill and around a few tight corners and finally up onto two scaffolds inside the building. I was thrilled with the living physics show that was unfolding minute by minute featuring the fulcrum, in its many costumes, as the star of the extravaganza. There were props and blocks and lifts and grunts and several ouches and in the end a hearty EUREKA! It was gripping adventure that totally distracted me from the often nagging sensation that someone should drop in and do this for me. I realized that it is certainly not work that I disdain but rather impediments to speed.

I constantly strive to rev my vital forces up to the speed at which they can do the bidding of my imagination in not-so-real time. So the visitor whom I have been summoning with my wishes would, I guess, have to be able to descend on the scene and solve the problem simultaneously (there would probably be a puff or two of smoke. Anything not to slow down the illusion that as fast as I can think it, it must be done.

To conclude, the tallest wall is thoroughly plastered. Now to return the colossus (reminds me of olives)to the viney outback. I think I'll put that off for a while.

I'd better get back to cobbing up the built in bench which I am stuffing with debris and extraneous materials to save on cob -lest year 5 creep up to the finish line overtaking an exausted year 4. And this being the hottest day in a string of near centenary degree days (that word may be reserved for people but I like to try new things)

today and a little bit of yesterday

2006-07-26T19:05:00.000-07:00

my daughters both have a blog and it got me to thinking....why not? The site promused that it would only take 5 minutes to set this up and guess what? it took me 20.

I have been spending a lot of time alone this summer and I decided to narrate "out loud" instead of reflecting in silence.

A baby bird flew into my kitchen yesterday and sadly landed on a strip of flypaper replete with flies dangling tastlessly over the counter. I cut the major parts of sticky paper away from the bird and also clipped some wing feathers, and managed to get him free of his encumberance. He fell to the ground and twisted himself to the shelter of some underbrush, showing the necesity of having wings of equal aparatus and I was sure he was a goner. But this morning , having forgotten an left the door open again, I saw a little bird hop underneath my desk where I lost sight of him, and couldn't find him anywhere...could it be?

That night as I was falling asleep I heard a fox barking, getting closer and closer until it seemed to be at the front door so I threw out a lamb chop that had gone round the bend, hoping that he would take it so that my dog wouldn't find it and choke on the sharp bone, sure enough this morning it was gone.

Today was a lot of work but my reward was a 2 hour walk at sunset. I live in the woods which is fine but I love the light at the end of the day and love to walk the countryside in the afterglow. I picked a dandy route that gave me plenty of light and a touch of realestate gazing. I was surprized to see that many people weren't home. This became a practical matter because I was thinking about where I would stop to pee. But on the route I chose my rest room potential faded when Anna was clearly not home. I was not desperate but it would have been nice. As I rambled on enjoying the fact that after such a hot day I was walking just fast enough to produce the human air conditioner effect, I came upon a construction site that I remembered had a port a potty! I was wondering if it would be gross but was pleasantly surprised that it far surpassed the cleanliness and aroma of any rest stop I have encountered of late. Anna's house I'm sure would have been a contender.

I took in all that I could and started towards home long after shadows ceased to show themselves. On the dirt road leading to our driveway I was hit in the neck by something that instantly fell to the ground. I stood and stared at it for the few seconds that it lingered and realized that it was a bat. No fang marks and no blood although it made me laugh to think of checking. Often as I walk there I ask the bats who cruise that strip gathering their evening meal, to slow down so that I can see them. They seem so cute but they go so fast that I can't get to know them. I can only imagine that since this bat like any other has excellent radar and would have known I was there, that he was giving me a chance to look at him before he resumed his feast. He was darn cute.