Jon's moms

I was at my daughter's house recently for the celebration of my grand daughter's first birthday. Actually, there was a house full of people helping to celebrate. At one point I found myself sitting in the entry den with two other women - my son in law's flesh and blood mother and his step mother. We three mothers had moved to this room because it was the coolest spot in the house. Jon's mother mentioned that she liked my writing and at this point his step mother said she liked my writing too. I was flattered.

Most of the time I enjoy writing. Writers tie a knot in time. They document what has transpired. Without writers it would be a lot harder to avoid repeating history. How would we know?

I was thinking about this very thing the other night... writing as a means to document what has gone before. I was laying in bed with my husband. He had already gone to sleep and the sound of his sleep apnea machine made a soft, soothing sound as he slept. I call it his dream machine because since he has started wearing it, he has recalled more dreams. He just calls it the "iron lung." The lights were out and the television played like a beacon in the dark. A program came on PBS. It was a presentation which had been recorded maybe 30 or 40 years ago. Before me was a choir of about 40 people wearing robes of white and tourquoise. Leaning back on my stack of pillows, it occurerd to me that many of these people were probably already in heaven. How many of them had gone home that day to some kind of horror or some kind of delight? And for an instant, there in the dark, I felt like I was looking back in time. I was actually looking back on a chunk of time from decades past. And I felt excited.

So how does this relate to Jon's moms in the den talking about writing. Well, that moment in time is now committed to writing. That moment in the den floats the internet. And who knows, maybe 30 years from this day, some person may accidentally pull up this blog and there they will read that 3 women sat and talked and celebrated the first year of life of a sweet little girl.

Longing for spring

I woke up early this morning. It must have been 3 am. It seemed light outside so I thought it must be around 7. I was ready to get up and start the day. So I was sort of disappointed to check the clock and find that it was only 3. I went back to bed and lay awake for another hour and then just gave up and climbed out of bed. I turned on the computer and checked several of my favorite stomping grounds. One of my favorites is Pam Garrison's Flickr photostream. She has some beautiful photos of home and garden. I was looking at her garden photos and what with the weather being 65 degrees or more yesterday, I started jonesing for the garden. I am so ready to start laying out my plans. I spent a little time this morning looking at some of my garden pictures from last year. The above picture is of a flower called love in a mist. I'm not sure why or how it got that name but I do love it! - mist or not. CORRECTION 3-08-09 The flower pictured above is actually bachelor button. It is very similar to love in a mist thus the mix up....sorry.

UPDATE ON THE NICHOL HOUSE:
I got all the wallpaper steamed off the walls in the entry foyer and then washed the glue off the walls in there as well. Also, all the floor tiles have been removed from the foyer and most of the wood flooring has been cleared of glue.

Finally - I think this cow of ours, hates me as everytime she gets near me she stares me down and starts shaking her head back and forth like a pendulum - like she is contemplating a major head butt between us. She freaks me out but I cannot imagine what I did to get on her bad side.

a new day - a new view

"What a difference a day makes, 24 little hours..." the lyrics of this song pretty much sums up my feelings this morning. I am in a good mood. Yesterday I wrote about anger. I've had 3 people contact me about that anger entry. My sister was worried and called last night, a friend wrote me through facebook and my sweet niece left a comment. Overnight I slept and during that commatose state, discovered my path. Anger can often lead to lashing out and maybe sometimes that is what needs to happen. Yet I am a strong believer in direct diplomacy. I'll get back to you on that.

AN UPDATE ON THE NICHOL HOUSE:

Phil brought the 10 foot ladder by the Nichol house on Sunday so first thing Monday I just had to see how that would work in the stairwell. It works great. I have been able to clear away most of the wallpaper. And 2 things have occured to me while standing on the ladder in the middle of the stairwell. How did the wallpaper hangers, who hung this wallpaper in this stairwell, do it? (and I am talking about a pattern that had to be matched rather precisely) And then how am I going to get to the wallpaper that is in a no reach location in the upper regions of this stairwell where my ladder won't reach? This is where the overnight commatose "brainiel" download helped immensely. It came to me as I was looking at some of these pictures that I took yesterday of the stairwell. I will put my plan into action and get back to you with the results. Needless to say, I am inspired.

PS - Please note the steamer hanging from the ladder with it's cloud of hot steam releasing into the atmosphere. Steaming hot! And baby that tool gets to the very core of old stuff just hanging on - kind of like pure honest anger. (oh man, I am so on a roll!)

IN DEFENSE OF ANGER!

Today I am giving a little, long due respect to anger. I am talking about "I will crush you" anger! I fill ticked off. A loved one of mine has been done dirty and I am calling out to the universe for justice! Let me tell you what good, clean anger does. IT clears the air! IT puts everything out there on the burn pile. I want to see the flames! I am in a mama bear/ slash and burn mode and it feels dangerous. In a writing advice book by Anne Lamott (I cannot think of the title right now), she says write the truth. I am so close to writing the truth right here and right now that it is all I can do to hold back - that is anger knocking at the door. The door will stay closed for now as my loved one needs to find the path to his own anger. IT is there. But the clock is ticking.

Magic!

This morning as I was getting into my car to head out to work, I noticed that my car was covered in crystals. And the sun was shining on those crystals giving loveliness at every turn.

AND

Yesterday, I was steaming wallpaper off the walls at the Nichol house. I came through two layers of wallpaper and discovered this wonderful embossed paper from the ages. It looks victorian but I don't think the house is that old. So maybe in the 40's or 50's someone wanted a victorian look and went with this embossed pattern. The thing is as I was peeling away the layers and this appeared, I felt like an explorer discovering ancient cave drawings.

A day in taffeta

Last night was Oscar night. Now, those who know me, know that I am not obsessed with celebrity. I grew up in the Blue Ridge Mountains and my Mama taught me that "pretty is as pretty does" so "Who are you wearing?" carries very little weight with me. This comes from a person who as a kid pretty much wore my sister's (and some cousin's) hand-me-downs. And I feel like I came through that unscarred. I had better things to think about than the clothes on my back. And of course my Mama also taught me "You are no better than anyone else but no one else is any better than you!" So I guess that I can still consider myself a patriotic American if I decide to not watch the Oscar awards. I am saying all of this because my husband was giving me a teasing last night because I didn't watch the award show. He watched it in the living room while I sat in bed watching a PBS special on wolves. He accused me of being "Too good!" or "above it" to be watching an awards show. I'm sure that he was just being funny (in the reverse universe) but it just bugged me a bit. I find award shows boring. Why? Well, 2 cute and adorable stars walk out and go down the list of their catergory then hand out an award. There is a speech and then it starts all over again with 2 more cute and adorable stars walking out to present the next award. I find it a bit unendurable. And I will say that I have a lot of respect for the creative process that comes with the various aspects of making a motion picture. I have always loved stories being told. Like I said, I am from the Blue Ridge Mountains. I've heard many yarns in my day.
Last Friday I left work early and went home sick with a cold. My body ached, my head felt like I was wearing a headache skull cap and even my eyeballs had a head ache. I got in bed and basically spent the weekend in my pajamas. As I lay face down in bed on Friday afternoon, I thought to myself "Am I dying?" And after 3 days of recuperation, the same thought came back to me last night (Sunday night) around 12:30. "I feel better but still feel yucky, am I dying?" And then I thought about all the things left undone. Like there was a pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen. And what about all my unfulfilled dreams. Though I have been published in newspapers and one magazine, I haven't published a book! And all the things that I have collected and find beautiful in this world, sit packed away in boxes. When my mother in law passed away, not only was her house immaculate but she had a weeks worth of food sitting at the ready in her freezer.
Alas and alack, it is Monday morning and the world is made new again. I continue my work on the house make over. There is more spackling and sanding looming in my future. I am making head way. "An elephant must be eaten a bite at a time." I will perservere.
So for some strange reason when I woke up this morning, I began to think about clothes. And I found myself thinking about those beautiful works of art that the women wore to the award show last night. What would it be like to get up and pick out some wonderful formal dress to wear somewhere important today? To have silk or satin touching my skin with maybe some bead work to add texture to touch. As I thought of the various fabrics, I thought of the sounds a wonderful "star" dress must make as one moves about in it. And for some reason, I felt like I would have to have perfume. (Though I usually never wear perfume because it makes me sick.) Of course there must be a fabulous necklace and earrings. Then what to do with my hair? Forgive me friends, I am missing the world of the feminine.

Real versus Imagined

Hello dear ones, it is me again. I am checking in with the story of the remodel job. I have removed the layers of wallpaper and am moving on to spackling and sanding ....... dreadful stuff. I just wanted to let you know that I am still in the world and working toward freedom - freedom from "yes, I can." I get myself into trouble with that attitude. Why can't I just fake ignorance and let God fill in the details?

Speaking of remodelling, I am pondering the remodelling or at least the redecorating of my own home and have made a discovery about myself. I have a split personality when it comes to my life. I love the warmth and comfort of country decor and ultimately turn in that direction, yet I am totally intrigued with modern style. Chrome, metal, steel, glass call to me. Something about the austerity of that look, invites me in. I do not believe that my husband could ever be happy in that environment. And I am not sure that I could either but still it intrigues me.

It is the same story when it comes to my own perception of my talents. I love to write, though these blog entries might beg to differ, and yet I cannot stop thinking about art. Sure they are close cousins. The other night Phil and I watched a movie entitled The Science of Sleep. The title makes it sound like a documentary but it is not a documentary. It has a lot of art and special effects. After the movie I began to think about my life and talents. I saw myself travelling down two roads - the path of art and the path of words. And I came away pondering what it would be like to combine the two.