things i want....

are never as important as a horse. and i've gotten into this awful(?) habit of asking myself the following question: is this really worth putting off having a horse for?

and the answer is always no.

so i'm not sure if i'll replace my camera.

and now.... i think i'd rather just eat grains and things in my cabinet than buy food. the spending season is over... it's time to rake in money and squirrel it away for the spring.

i think when i buy my horse, I'm going to have to invite my boss' and their most adorable son to meet the fruit of their actions, because without them moving my to local 44, i'm not sure i would be able to get a horse.



its that cheery time of year

when everyone is grumpy cause they didn't get the things they wanted and wish the weather was batter.

HOWEVER! i'm pretty sure i have the greatest family and we had so much fun. I brought my other (younger) brother and my other (older) brother and his wife and kids (one's in the belly) stopped by.... generally, it was a great time. we all gave my dad money. perfect. we all gave my mom jewelry...and an outdoor thermometer, my sister pre-chose all her gifts, and i got horsey things galore. we've been figured out, the tree was the usual conglomeration of memories.

I now am sitting at my house, with only the kittens cuddling with me for company and a bottle of christmas stout. What could be better?

(the only downfall is that mysteriously my shitty ass camera broke last night and now i am going to be forced to get a better one. aka anything but a nikon. so really, a pretty decent present in disguise)

hooray for the time of light returning!


tis the season

... to think of loved ones and spend time with family. I know this time of year is particularly hard for my parents. both have lost parents, we split the holidays between families and an annual party hosted by old friends, none of which is happening this year.

anyway, i was sitting here watching the sun fade into the evening, feeling the temperature plummet, and thinking of warmer days and holidays and family, and got to thinking about my grandfather.

he died in june of two years ago.... maybe. i don't really remember. but i wrote about the experience as i felt it shortly after, and have yet to share it with anyone... so i thought maybe i would on this forum, i guess it's as anonymous as it gets in a way, i have no idea who is or is not reading this if these mysterious non-readers care or are passing through.
but all that is fine by me.

here it is....

My phone rang. jolting me out of sleep, bolt upright and phone in hand mere moments later. Heart pounding, im sure you could hear it along with my mom’s voice asking me, rattling, when I was coming out. We hadn’t discussed this before hand. I was not supposed to know what was wrong. but sometimes you just do.  When I was pulling on my pants over my bare ass you were still stretched out on my bed, the sheet wrapped haphazardly around your waist. The t-shirt from yesterday and my shoes on my feet, as I said, I gotta go. Now. I….this is serious. I'm sorry, I’ll call you later.

Head spinning, and you pulled on your clothes tossing half of them into your bag with your bike lock and toothbrush, we were dripping with sweat from rushing and the early morning heat of June

and I flipped off the two fans which had been making sleep almost possible, bumping into things as I sprinted upstairs for old cold coffee and my car keys, and as you grabbed your bike and I hurried you outside, you grabbed me, we stopped, and with more assurance than was necessary, you hugged me so tight, my shaking stopped for a moment.

I need to go. Something's so wrong. so wrong, go. Go.

I ran to my car, and music seemed inappropriate and traffic seemed to part like the red sea for, this was urgent, why, I couldn’t tell you. I wish, I hope I hoped so hard…

And my mom’s on the other line again as the road races under my wheels and as she presses to find out where I am, I push the gas peddle to the floor and we reach 90, 92, and they are closer than they were before.

Barrelling into the hospital, slooooow it down. Slow. What good would it do to get in an accident now. I’ve been here so many times before, the room is the same, its been in my dreams ever since I drew that picture the last time he was here. I was ten then, eleven years ago. An eternity, a life time.

And my mom is pacing in front of the door and I grab her hand as I walk in, and pull her to my shoulder and whisper for her to get coffee, or tea, and I’ll be with him. I promise I wont let anything happen while she’s gone. She’s been here all morning. And the clock hits 7:30am as I sit down next to him and take his cold hand in both of mine. The skin is taught and loose at the same time, falling off, colors of the earth from years of being in the sun, dark cancer spots have been spreading as long as I can remember. His glasses are not needed, those huge rose colored seventies glasses that just came back in style, ‘cept his are legit and thick as my pinky finger. The while sheets are draped over his body, tucked under the mattress, perfectly flat and unruffled, a far cry from the sheets we left on my bed this morning, and I wish I could tell you the last time he was out of this bed, the last time he moved voluntarily, the last time his legs swung over the side to try and walk around. His limbs make pointed mountains in the bed, his bones visible, though covering them are skin and three layers of fabric. His ribs move up and down, up and down, and the beeping of the heart monitor is unbearably deafening.

His eyes are closed, and there are tubes everywhere, in his arms, in his nose, in his mouth, and they gurgle at different intervals, reverberating around in the room and in my skull and then out into the hall where my mom comes walking back, two styrofoam cups clenched in her hands. Hers eyes are swollen and her usual rosey cheeks are slack and pale. Her hair in a thick rubberband, spewing all over her right shoulder.

I try not to watch what looks like coffee grounds coming down out of the tube in the corner of his mouth, collecting in a large bag hanging under the IV. It makes me want to vomit, and yet I cant stop watching them dribble down the tube, sludge.

When my grandmother died. I didn’t cry. I thought those who did were weak. I loved her, and still remember her fondly, but my dad and I stood at his mothers funeral, side by side, mute and dry eyed.

And here, is the strongest woman I know, and her head is on my shoulder, and we are shaking, silently, shaking with so much love and we hold on to his cold hand, and that damn moniter is still beeping incessantly. And holding onto his other hand is my cousin, my tall blonde, smart witty and incredibly strong cousin, the mother of two boys and who has spent many an hour in this room in these last weeks.

When the nurse comes in we drink our coffee out of our styrofoam, staring into the deep brown liquid and we are grounded for a minute, as he tells us story after story of this man’s three weeks in this room.

How every nurse and doctor was in love with him, and how all he wanted to do was to walk around and meet the other patients and make them laugh by making fun of them, and how it wasn’t until last week that he took off this black shirt with white peeling letters that had been ironed on (I should know, I made it for him) that proclaimed “GRUMPY” across his bony chest.

And then he played a recording for us. See, whenever he would try and get up out of bed, this recording would play, to remind him to stay in bed. And it said in this deeply familiar, scratchy, yet slurred voice “stay in bed, stupid”.

And we laughed and laughed and laughed, and the nurse left the room, and the tears rolled down our cheeks and chins and spilled onto the sterile tile below our plastic chairs.

After a while, my mom and my cousin went to stroll outside for a hot second, and we two were left alone, one hundred years of life stored in that room, and I could see them being ushered away by the tubes into plastic bags near his head. And the dreams and the laughs and the ability to befriend the cashier at the grocery store and that old handsome face once dashing and seductive now hollow and inelastic, monochromatic and listless.

Bright Eyes and Poppy side by side. And I talk to him, even though he’s been comatose for six days, and tell him stories about my life and about how im making a difference in the world, a giving a voice to the voiceless through low power radio, and how I’ve been lobbying on capitol hill, and I know he would give me a hard time, but…

And I say his name over and over, and I ask him rhetorical questions hoping they aren’t rhetorical and I clutch his hand, casue I don’t want him to go yet, and I want him to open his eyes. And ive got both hands over his, trying to warm it, make it feel like it always has, and then, his breath gets quicker, and my eyes shoot up to his face, and for forty second, or thirty, his eyes open, and I know he cant focus, his eyes are so bad, but I know he can hear me, and I talk to him, and I kiss his hand and I tell him how much I love him, and I tell him that my mom and steph are here but walking, and they will be right back,and that I love him, and some stupid almost witty sarcastic remarks about how this is perfect timing for him to snap out of it, what a grumpy jerk, but I love him anyway, and his fingers have closed around my hand, and im trying to not lose my mind through my eyeballs.

And he closes his eyes again, and I beg him to keep them open.

Please, my mom needs him to hang on until she gets back in the room, and that codgedy old bastard kept his eyes closed, but kept the tiniest bit of pressure pushing I nto my hand.

And my mom and steph came back, and I guess I looked like id seen a ghost. I had. Because minutes later, the furrow in his brow, the only indication that he was in pain, relaxed, and his cheeks sunk one last time, and the gurgling out of the coffeeground coated tube stopped, and over what seemed like an eternity, I watched his face turn stone grey and realized his hand felt like soft granite, smooth and hard, and the coldest thing I have ever felt in my life.

And that fucking beeping of the heart monitor kept wailing long after we collected the last of his things, took turns kissing him goodbye, and wept our of the room, and out of the hospital.

His cold cheek print is still on my lips.


what an amazing image.
thats all.


things making me squinty eyed and smiley...

-these folks: r.i.s.e.  (a sisterly duo who sing beautiful old songs)
-the smell of the wreath as you walk in the front door
-the feeling of being able to attain your goals (i'm finally able to save money for my horse that will bring about the beginning of my success as a horse woman)
-finding amazing gifts for folks at every turn.... little surprises found on the ground, from the folks i work with, and the local artists
-courtesy stables (i <3 walt)
-spending tomorrow with my favorite person
-good coffee in the morning
-late afternoon sun naps with kittens
-a kitchen filled to bursting with good food, and the beginning of the winter CSA looming saturday!

and other things.... that i am not at liberty to disclose :)



changes are good, though i usually get into a crazy tantrum of trying to change everything at once, which makes me crazy (and probably everyone around me as well). However, for the last couple of months, l;ife has been full, to say the least, and quite stressful. So to compinsate, my body has been craving all these things that are not so nice for it, namely cheese and bread in the form of pizza, mac and cheese from the pub on the corner, fries cheese, cheese in chunks from the refrigerator, string cheese, egg and cheese breakfast sammies for every meal, and of course BLT's with fakin bacon and guess what.... cheese.

anyway, seemingly unrelated to all of this, I have been so full of moodswings it's not even funny. prone to go from happily riding horses (which usually puts me an a 3/4+ day long good mood) to bawling my eyes out on the drive home. From laughing, to screaming, and feeling rejected and sad. Oh so sad. as i think it would be difficult for me to be pms-ing for two and a half months, something has to change.
end of story

SO. I've made some promises to myself and to the people around me who have been affected by my craziness:
**i will step back, breath, and step back when i start to get heated about something menial
**i will try to be more appreciative and less judgemental
**i will start to alter my eating habits towards a healthier and happier self

the first two are a state of mind, and the third i am finding harder than the first two.
being surrounded by fried food at work and junk food at home, it takes so much willpower to keep my cravings in check.
it is a well known fact amongst the my horsey friends that i can not eat bagels... they make me grumpy and lethargic and hungry(? weird, right). as background info: it is almost tradition to get bagels, cream cheese, and coffee for horse show mornings.
my theory is that bagels are so concentrated and so wheaty that my body just can't digest it... perhaps rooted in a minor wheat allergy (allergy may be too strong a word... bodily dislike?)

So. i am trying to cut back on my wheat intake as much as possible. i'm not checking the back of everything as i had to do when i was vegan, but just trying to not eat breads and breaded things, pasta, and tortilla.... my favorite food group. instead i'm trying to eat more whole grains and take the time to make food. easier said than done. especially since our kitchen is counter deprived (seriously, what kind of kitchen doesn't have a drawer big enough for silverware????? it's enough to make a kitchen snob have a minor panic attack everytime they walk into the kitchen)

moral of the story: i want-->


i'm so hunnnngry RAWR


<3 bagel bums

After returning home from a day of flea markets and hunting for long lost antique shops and a rifing lesson, i dumped the roping and wreath i had aquired on the floor, and this happened..... well, my cat is black and brown stripey, and laid down in it. Quite adorable.

i must say, i forgot how much i love flea markets. I love them so much, in fact, that last night i couldn't sleep well, and this morning my alarm went off and i sat bolt upright in bed, ready to go. I mean, I obviously laid back down and snuggled with purring kittens and my favorite warm body for a bit, and then got up and ran out the door.

My mom and I go the rice's flea market, up rt 263 between new hope and doylestown. and it is one of the best. some of the folks that are vendors there have been there as long as i can remember, and of course, the bagel folks are some of the best cream cheese spreaders EVER. not much beats an everything bagel with veggie cream cheese with a cup of coffee on a cold morning digging through antiques and deals of all sorts.
(this is a pic of the real-live-most-amazing-bagel-bums)

I got so many amazing presents for folks, as well as 75 feet of mixed roping, a wreath, and a bunch of holly for 20 bucks! Oh love oh love.

So home to cute kitten attack, a house now decorated.... and guess what. I think i may be an adult. I got those single lights that go in each of the windows, AND i saved the boxes and wrapping so i can pack them away for next year. I also got wrapping paper. no more newspaper wrapped boxes for me: I'm an ADULT!

except of course i have no desire to clean up the royal mess i made between being done for my school semester and having brought home all my metal scultures and the roping exploding all over the floor....

maybe i'll have help?


dear oh dear oh dear

So. new house. new job. new room mates. and oh so much has happened since my last writing. my lovely partner in crime bought a house, and we, her sister, and our dear friend moved into it.... one of the most stressful things i've ever done. (settlement happened on the 30th at 2pm, and we had to be completely out of the old house by that date.
but it's over. we've been here a week as of yesterday, and the improvements are crazy so far.
(i'll post some photos as soon as the cord to my camera surfaces)
and in the mean time, you can picture thirty five + year old pink and teal carpets stained with cigarette smoke and a family of 6's living habits.... as well as drop ceilings and a wee bit of paneling.
anyway, it's been fun and tiring ripping up the carpets, moving everything a million times, and trying to love on the felines so they don't go all sorts of vindictive and shit every where.

anyway. I want to elaborate on things, but right now, i have groceries to put away and the living room floor calling my name
until next time

ps. this is what i want my kitchen to look like:
(except with a wood floor, or even a dark and light grey checkered paint job on the floor and a non-ikea table)
mostly, i just want the sink SO bad.
wink wink


waiting... is the pits

there is this kind of torture that is incredibly underrated for driving people insane, making them testy, irritable, pissy, and generally destroying really good folks. it's called.... waiting.
(a song called open doors  by brandi carlisle just started playing in which she sings over and over.... what are you waiting for.)
anyway... so. this is a seven month saga of torturous waiting.... first about the general search, waiting for the perfect house, and not a month and a half into the actual purchase of a house..... that my georgous lady needs to have (i say needs because of her intense desire, so much so that it is destroying/has destroyed her.... and therefore my happiness and our lighthearted souls)

and now.... the settlement deadline has been missed twice.... AND WE CAN DO NOTHING ABOUT IT.

which is the worst feeling ever.
not only that there is something out of our/my control, but that the happiness of the person i love more than anything is being stomped on and there is nothing i can do about it.

we are also in this supper shitty situation where now it is the 24th, with a holiday day after tomorrow. and we have to be out of house we have been renting...... by monday. (did i mention that's less than a week away) OH and what happens if we don't get the house?

well, I really am trying not to have think about that... mostly because i am not allowed to broach the issue with helen.

and i have no idea... i  mean finding a place to live for two people.... not such a big deal. but, well, i have these stupid things to deal with:

there are three if they all look the same to you.

and then... h. has these two crazy felines:

so all in all, we have too many fuzzy balls of stupid cuteness to deal with. and although many folks have said we have a place to stay, i'm pretty sure they don't want our cats.

fo real.




So. Appaloosa is a breed and a color when it comes to horses. when it comes to films, it is an absolute horror of a film. slow, drawn out, and renee zelwigger is the bane of my movie watching existence.

Now, the reason i bring this up, is because h and i have been watching a number of westerns lately, and it has reminded me that A. horses are far prettier than people and far more magnificent. and B. i really just want to be a dirty cowgirl that is covered in filth and rides all day. common, what could be better..... horses horses horses, awesome vests, sweet hand crafted riding boots, guns and dirt, all day, every day, in the hot sun. sounds ideal to me.

the ONLY good thing about the movie appaloosa was viggo mortensen. he is a fabulous actor, and has one of the best wardrobes, and a bonus in my book is that i heard he is a real live horse fellow.
now, a movie that you SHOULD see, hands down one of the most beautiful films i've ever seen, and proof that ben afleck is just shitty, is the movie: The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.

Casey afleck is brilliant in it, not to mention the photography is just mesmerizing.

anyway, you should watch it, and then be a farm hand with me, or work on my farm with me one day... promise that dirt and horses will be all day every day.


things to adorn your body with....

I am fairly into body art of all kinds. piercings, tattoos, henna, the kind of stuff you have on you all the time. I have a few of my own, ever evolving.

my dad expressed from a very young age that he believes all f it to be mutilation. i think of it as art. and self. a way to express yourself, and decorate yourself. people have been doing it for eons. and it's beautiful.

Grandmother Agnes is one fo the 13 indigenous grandmothers who are doing some of the most incredible work for our future and the future of our grandchildren.
and stretching ears..... come on. when done tastefully....

how beautiful is she?

I have spent many many hours sketching and throwing away ideas for things to but in myself... images and memories, and as a result, I am completely happy with my tattoos. they mean alot to me, and make me feel really good about myself.
granted I haven't had them for a decade yet, only about half that, some of them.... it's a process. I have a plan for when and under what conditions i will decorate some key places.. like my forearms.

i have ideas for more than i could ever fit on my body, but most of them aren't good enough. they need to be perfect, and images that i adore or created myself, or both!

anyway.... i think i started writing this because i could use a change... an addition... something to look at on myself, and think..... damn that's fucking beautiful.
because sometimes, well, we just don't do that enough.


family times on the web

so... its late and i cant sleep, and i though maybe i would peruse some blogs, look for some art inspiration or what have you. turns out the whole universe is using the blog-o-sphere for a f'ing baby book. seriously? is your computer easier to carry around with you and your pet-kid than a book and a pen? i mean come on.... i know i have one of these stupid things, and hell, turns out i'm writing on it more and more, and oh wow is it easy to put photos on... but what the hell happens when your kid is 20, you just died... and all they want is to .... caress the key board of your computer that died 18 years ago, and read your not so hand written notes about their child hood?

i mean, i get it, pictures, writings, etc. easy. in one place. and in this age of digital, it's virtually free, no paying for printing pictures, but then again, what happens when the computer is full, or the site disappears..... forever, dun dun dun

my parents kept a baby book for me, and taped photos in there, the wrist band from the hospital, my first opera ticket that really was my dad's... cause i was clearly on his lap.

it's touching, and TANGIBLE. (i cry nearly every time i read something in it)

stupid computers.
good thing i write in my notebook more than this crazy contraption.
and i can only hope they will still be making books and pens and tape to keep a book for my kid (s) one day.

i have a theory....

that if a kitty and a dogggie had a baby..... it would be perfect. and a pony. i'm fairly convinced of this and am up for a debate at any time, but i think ponies have the best traits of both animal varieties....

thats all for now. i suppose

a horse dancing to billy joel

and... well. i hate billy joel, but that is beautiful


pony time

So. for many years i was worried that for everyone person, there is only one soul mate. and that perhaps it was possible for those souls to be stuck in another species' body. like my cat, or this horse i was enamored with named Arthur.
Well, i am pretty sure that i have found my soul mate, and lucky for me, she's a real human. I rarely become so enamored with a creature these days, and i think it partly has to do with the fact that i am no longer searching for that companionship and devotion... however, i met this very hansom fellow last week, who's name is "the Queen's Admiral" , Admiral for short.... and I have not been able to stop thinking about him since. I really wasnt him to be mine one day, so i can call him addy and clean him for hours a day, every day, and not feel like a creap. Admiral is this 16h2or3in horse (in non horse lingo... a tall bugger) and he is gray with dark dapples on his haunches, and a black mane and tail. He's four, and a thoroughbred, but has a full barrel and meaty neck for a TB. And the most dashing face, ever. now, what i think i find most endearing about him is his personality which is somewhere in between a toddler with A.D.D. and a hansom young man who's super good at athletics and is just figuring it out.
He'll go from being completely distracted, to a hot shot bouncing around the ring, snorting and huffing at a cat on the wall to one of the most powerful and focus jumpers i've ever ridden. He loves to jump. like seriously LOVES to jump. and does so. about a foot and a half over everything you put him to.
It's really endearing, and a good quality for a show jumper, which is what i'm into, and want a horse for. if only i had a few more thousand dollars........

hurumph. The only thing to do now is to wait and see. keep riding him in my lessons, and in the spring, when i have boat loads of money (fingers crossed) i'll try and convince them all to sell him to me, cause he's my current favorite. *did i mention he's a booger and spooky and hard to ride..... so hopefully no one else will fall in love with him.... eeeep.

he kindda looks like that. 'cept hansomer. way more hansom. just sayin'


whats making my day lovely:

the simple delights.
of cooking a perfect egg.
of a leaf rustling, sunny, fall day.
of a day with only your own imagination as the limit to what you can do.
an alarm not set.
someone crawling into bed, late, to snuggle and kisses on the nape of a neck.
kittens snuggling and purring.
a freshly cleaned kitchen.
the feeling of muscles twinging of soreness from a newly learned skill (oh how swinging a hammer to flatten searing hot metal is exhilarating!)
the first sip of coffee in the morning.
lunch with a cute person (giggle)
having the assignment: "listen to as much music as you can!"
conversations with an amazing woman (my mom) while still lounging about in bed with snuggling kittens.(that's almost overload)
the excitement of a dinner date with a cute person!

---i hope there are such exciting things in your lovely days as well!


crazy things.

a few updates:
----> universities are stinky.
---->new friends with whom you connect on a most basic level are lovely and fun.
---->the phillies need to win so that i feel some justice in that i haven't made any money since the playoffs started
---->riding ponies all day in the most beautiful countryside i've ever seen is one of the best things ever. in this lifetime. i think it's quite on par with falling in love, sans the being scared shit less part (of falling in love i mean)
---->photos are nice, but all on my camera.
and last, but definitely not least..... yesterday was my favorite holiday. and i think i'll hold a grudge against the person that made me work from 6-2 am, probably forever. or at least until next samhain.
HOWEVER: my disgruntledness was mared only by the intense energy that was whipping around yesterday.... the leaves flying, the air crisp and snappy, and everyone in high spirits.... get it, spirits!
moral is: nothing can beat a beautiful fall day when two worlds come closest to colliding.

happy all hallows eve !!!!



it started in jr high, slipping notes in through locker grates. in high school we had mailboxes.... in went the intricately folded pieces of paper with little love notes, little hugs in a wadded up piece of paper. usually into the pocket they went. when i tood a year off before college, i got a few postcards from a lovely lady.... to whom i never wrote back, but her cards were one of the few things that pulled me through that year.

i stopped sending notes. i had an almost friend who would send me packages. with letters type writen, pieces of tree branches hidden in the folds of the paper. scenes of juniper bushes and cacti, never ending landscapes i can only imagine from the words woven on those pages. i never told him how much those meant to me.

one night, before groundhog day, a friend and i baked a three leafed table full of cookies.... acknowledging our friends' allergies and dietary restrictions... gluten free, vegan, no nuts... and wrote secret notes on them and drove them all to the houses of the people we loved to be found in the morning.

somehow they all knew they were from us.

when i moved away from the city, we sent letters back and forth, talking about our days and how much we missed each other.
and now that we live together.... well. i miss noting each other.

also miss having the people around who deserve secret packages and notes.... i mean i know they are all around me... we all deserve secret love messages. but somehow i feel like we have all grown apart, and don't know enough about each other. some of -you- i haven't seen since i moved from the western part of the city. which was almost two years ago. but i still think of everyone all the time, and occasionally try and figure out how to make it over there, and run into the people i once confided everything in.

i fell like this is a larger issue than just me and my own silly desires for a connectivity besides those fleeting moments. my pie in the sky is a place where skills and thoughts and food are shared beyond just the house. where many people come together to form a space where childcare and friendships and support and bartering skills and needs manifests into a community.

maybe it exists here.... if it has, i haven't seen it yet. it seemed to exist where i lived two years ago.... where we could all walk to each others homes, where we could bike to a farm to get our produce, or to the local food co-op. where folks lived in huge houses, and shared chores, and cooking food, and shared spaces, and gardens. but it only lasted a short while. and it's too expensive to live there in a semi-permanent way. and maybe that's why we all have to work towards those things together, but here instead of there. and yet here we are.... all working so much that we barely see each other in our own home, where we can't even have full day together, but to be cut short my obligation, work, and the need to sleep a bare minimum. and now i only speak of two people. and i wonder why i don't see other folks anymore, as i can't even to get it together to spend time with my partner in the house we share.

maybe we just all need to slip each other notes, little hugs slipped in the folds of the paper.
texting just doesn't suffice. there is nothing to keep, and look at later, and see the craft put into each letter or note.

by the way---- i still have every note. i have the poem you wrote for me about saving me from my spanish teacher, i have the one where you told me i was beautiful, i have the one you wrote about sante fe, i have the one you sent from utah, i have the one written on a typewriter in a nearly empty room in a squat in new orleans. i have the one you wrote about how we need to do spring-thrifting. i have the one you wrote about wanting to meet the person i finally end up sharing my life with... my true love. i have the one you wrote me about how you fell in love with me. i have the one about how i broke your heart. i have the one about ow beautiful the desert is. i have the one you wrote about our time in new orleans. i have the one you wrote in the childrens book.
i have them all.


i almost forgot!

WE (our collective beings) BOUGHT A HOUSE!

a big, grand, back-yarded, beautiful, three story house. it has a walk in pantry, a linen closet (to hearing this, my mom laughed and said that she thinks that we are officially grown ups) a many paned glass door between the kitchen and dining room. it has a million windows, and a million ways we will make it the most beautiful house in the world.
there will be four humans and five felines loving this house.
and even though they are super snuggly, kittens can't help do renovations... so work and beer parties will be plentiful..

i can't wait to have pictures of the house. my lovely photo-eyed father is going to get conned into taking before, during, and after photos. for which i can not wait!

my plant-fingered momma is gonna help me plan out the most beautiful, space efficient garden with brick patio. perfect for bbq's and growing foods and medicines and mysterious things.

oooooo. i can't wait.

almost punkin time

so for a long while, my computer sat in the basement of my parent's house. While it was there is acquired this mysterious whitish residue all over it. and i successfully rid the poor machine of it, except for on the screen, right where the most important things in internet world always pop up, or where secret clues are in movies etc. so basically it looks like a transparent dirt paint ball through which i now do everything on the computer.

anyway, as i sat down to the task of writing, i realized there was this riff between what i wanted to write, and this dirt ball on my computer (could also be taken as me on the computer, i suppose) ANYWAY. I want to write about something nice, but my apologies if it doesn't sound quite as lovely, because it is visually streaming through a dirt-splatter.

so, last night i couldn't fall asleep becasue i just couldn't rid myself of the desire for someone to document how flippin cute we are when we sleep. i mean, i hope most people(who sleep in the same space) spoon as they fall asleep, but somehow lying in bed, i just felt like the the only person in the world that was so special as to not only be there with someone so completely and utterly beautiful, but also for said person to have fallen asleep holding my hand.....

well it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about it.
(though i must say i really wanted to type all worm and gooey inside) 'tis the season eh?

speaking of worms and gooey things, i have been sourly disappointed with the weather on saturdays. it's been enough to squash all hope of getting a really amazing pumpkin, and cider donuts, and carmel apples each saturday, for the last THREE cout, em, three. weeks. it's a little bit pathetic, i think, that we are all so excited for the perfect fall day, that we can't bring our selves to embrace even a few clouds, and the possibility of some rain, and the mud, and the miserable people... well, i guess i feel ok about it.

i just hope that tomorrow is a million times better

and if it is, i will hopefully have gloriously gross pictures of beautifully scary punkins... fingers crossed.


scattered brains

yesterday was the first cold, rainy, grey tinged day. today, it's continued. and here i lay under three quilts, a blanket and sheet, icy finger-tipped and wishing the 60 degree days would come back for a little longer... i mean, i know the cold snap means the most beautiful fall is yet to come, the colors sudden and vivid, but at this moment, i wish i was on a horse, with the fall happening around me, not a cloud above me.

but another reality is today, so uploading photos will satisfy my wandering mind, filling my computer with the colors of central america... speaking of which, after an email received, the overwhelming feeling that i'm not doing what i'm supposed to be doingright now knocked me over. and i have to wait for january to go here:

and really. I can't wait.

brains.... sometimes i have a hard time focusing on just one things until it is solved, or brought to fruition. i blame it on my birth day. so, speaking of which, something else that has been moving among the gears and cranks in my skull is a concept that i'm having a hard time wraping my brains around: how to define space with light. OR how to create space with light.
there is this really incredible artist, james turrell (who has the most incredible beard, buy the way) who, in his early work, created the illusion of three dimensional shapes by casting light from a projector on the ceiling. incredible. (look him up)

and so for this project i've been thinking on, is all about space, about  creating space that elicits a feeling. but, i would rather create a fake space, or something that really is no space at all, but seems that it is, and challenge the viewer in that way. but doing that is harder than just building a boring room, or hood to put over your head, or a mask of some sort.


on a totally unrelated note, i would like to share a little glimpse of the most beautiful place on earth...just sayin'

fall colored reeds.

the tastiest water i've ever put in my mouth.

and a puppy i adopted for an afternoon.

night at the camp. (you can't hear nearly that much life here in the city)
rocker on the dock, a hot toddie in one hand, the other holding onto the chair, lest i fall into the stars, or the lake.

even just thinking about all the beauty and vibrancy of the woods, well, it makes me want to pack up my car with all my things and go for a spell.
and when that spell breaks, i'll come back and share of what they've taught me with those who wish to know.


bullet points

things i suppose you should know because they are of importance in everything i plan on blogging about:

. i was born on may 30th: serious gemini

. i geek out about horses

. that should be enough to tell you who i am if you know me.... but i would prefer for you to forget that you know me, and continue on with the simple realization that this is solely a place for what would ordinarily end up in notebooks in my book case, and i hope this creates a space for my own feelings and drawings on life and the world i live in, and perhaps someone will relate, maybe some will find it so tediously boring.... but really, i don't care what you think.

because this is for me.


do not be lazy.

the japanese have these lovely sayings... or suggestions for living, and of couse i can only remember the one i need to quote: first, do not be lazy.

this i will try to do.
easier said than done