You ride the waves and don't ask where they go

Lil Ellie says hello.
And she lives here

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Were just spinning on some granite/That we like to call a planet

IMG_5626, originally uploaded by nextography.

We might have gone to the Ohio State Fair today. I like to go each year and look at the animals and decorated cakes and eat fried foods on sticks and rub shoulders with the carnies. I mean is there any thing more fascinating and interesting than the carnie life? But, Finn woke up ill. I should have known. Whenever he is mean it is often followed by sickness. He is sleepy sick all day and we won't do much. Not today.

I have only come here seeking knowledge

The day got better. Finn found his groove and we all came back to a sweeter place. Finn found dad's Stanley tape measure and measured the whole house twelve times. When he dozed off on our bed today I looked him up and down and tried to listen to the words of my friend Paige- She told me yesterday that next year I will look back and think what a baby he was. He is a baby still. He is not going to reason with me just yet. Perhaps never. I am also still a young and green mother too, no matter my age or how much knowledge I have gained swinging on the learning curve. I am still growing and I need to think about this. It's all good.






egg cartons and small objects

I let Blaise play with Finn's counting bears this morning as Finn was upstairs. It was a nice little 20 minutes just for me and Blaise. He covets the little bears and is smart enough to know that we keep them in a tackle box with other tiny choking hazards and will point to the box and grunt!
I let him play with them today for some simple fine motor time. He loved the sorting and dumping and picking up and supervised I think it is fine to let young ones play with tiny objects.

I want to come back here today and have something to say about my day that is good. We were supposed to go to the art museum today, but Finn's behavior was terrible this morning and running on little sleep (thanks to Blaise the insomniac) I was terrible right back. I can see myself, like I am outside of my body, parenting the opposite of my true belief. The mother I do not want to be. He was reacting to me. I had scared him with my anger. I am sure that these days are scattered over the relationship landscape of parent and child, but they still suck. They still sting.

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And castles are burning in my heart

So I think in an attempt to not work on my novel I have been going through old writings. I mean really old ones, the ones that live suspended in the place where I first really considered the writing life. I wrote this story below for a writing workshop at college and it has hung over my head ever since. I find it ever so often in a folder or something. I think it wants to fly and only she knows how it should have became something many years ago. I have never revised it though, bc I am just not sure if it is a novella or a poem or a short story or an essay. I know that the bones are good and timeless and could stand alone someday.

I thought I would share it. I am going to just dry read it after many years and not edit/ it will be rough as a random kid or music or doorbell might be in the background. If yr feeling blue it will probably make you laugh at some points. Ah youth.

Also- my garage band is down and I had to make an imovie for the sound- sorry bout the blank screen- but just close yr eyes. :)

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In that tenderness I am floating away

We let the boy stay up late last night. We are pretty strict about our 7:30 bedtime round these parts, but there was something about the heat of the day and how it slithered into a remarkable evening that loosened me.

There was something about how patient he had been with mom and dad working all day at home. There was a good vibe and so we told him he could stay up to see the lightening bugs and stars. He fully appreciated it.

The fireflies were magical and his mouth formed perfect circles and his eyes were so very wide. Although it broke my heart that he could not remember last year's bugs.
These are amazing he said.
It also broke my heart that I have discovered he cannot remember our old house.
His old room. The place we started.
Were you really so little only last year Finn?

He could hardly brush his teeth or make it to his bed fast enough and he cried and cried simply because he was exhausted, but I didn't feel too bad about jacking up his circadian rhythm. He had a sparkly time, a perfect shiny night this summer. And I was a mama magpie swooping down and taking that glimmering moment and tucking it safe in my mind- safekeeping a memory for all of us.

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He turned to me as if to say/ hurry boy it's waiting there for you

We have made a little update to the shop. I am going gaga over the new maple toy Joe made. She is called Lil Lark Roller and she is gorgeous. We also made a Egg Shaker too! Today has been filled with work and cleaning and lots of sweat. I hope as the night falls we can relax. It is hot today. It is looking like a beer and carport kinda night. Kiss Kiss.

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Everybody's got a little light under the sun

I had the pleasure of being outdoors all day with four delicious children. Willow made it such a lovely day for me as she sang to me and talked of her love for Johnny Cash. Willow loves Johnny the way that Finnian loves Bob. Hard. I had no need to scour the blog world for inspiration today. It was all around me and has lifted me well through lunch.

A release from the humid press of days

We have been very lucky to have met many cool folks in the year that we have lived in this town. I remember driving through this area a few year ago and stopping at the local post office. It was like Brigadoon and shit. My local post office was crusty and mostly had an air of grump. This post office had donuts out on a table and smiling people. I always remembered that. I always thought that the town seemed really old school and Norman Rockwellish.

I never thought we would live here. Well, anyhoo we do now and it pretty much is living up to that fancy imagery in my mind. When we walk around we always see someone we know and all the local stores (many independent ones!!!) have characters in them that we have come to adore. Ms. E from the local copy shop has become one of our dearest. She hands out wisdom and taffy with ease and we seem to find an excuse to go in at least once a week. She gives me scrap paper and took me aside yesterday and told me that I had inspired her to create paper art and products with scraps too. She lifted a box and showed me beautiful To-Do lists pads she had made. There was energy between our smiles.

She also showed me something amazing in the basement. There are these old printing presses down there just collecting dust. She shared with me that she would love to learn how to print. My eyes were super wide and of course I told her that I had always wanted to learn too. We started making grand schemes and dreams and business plans in about 32 seconds. Isn't it great when you forget about reality for a moment and just dream?

Well, of course we have come back to earth now. Me and the boys went over today and bought some office supplies and talked. The man who owns the presses would sell perhaps, but just maybe we could learn how to print here and then do some printing and see what it is all about. Perhaps I could call her or her and inquire bc I know they are hip to it all. Perhaps you should do as many crazy things in life as you can. I still regret the fact that I left all those paper making frames in Athens, Ohio. I was going to start a handmade paper company 15 years ago. Whoops.

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I saw the crescent/You saw the whole of the moon

Cards, originally uploaded by Ian Legge.

I was eight and sleeping over at Mindy Miller's farm. I always slept over, we were best friends and all. I guess we were on our best behavior considering the previous weekend we were all busted in Mr. Miller's small cinder block garage for playing some sort of doctor game. But it was Ryan Farely, the pervert neighbor kid who had suggested it and indeed we were curious. And if Stupid Frankie Pinnel hadn't knocked over that shelf we would have been in the clear. After the talk about the sanctity of our bodies by our mothers, we made a pact to behave and at the very least to exclude Frankie from any future excursions concerning curiosity.

It was about nine o'clock and hot still. We stood outside of Mindy's house in our white cotton nightgowns. Our small flat chests chaffing against the material as we climbed the fence that divided her property from the Farley's. We always sat on that fence. It was slipping into pure black night and in the country darkness is massive. If you were a city kid or a pussy like Frankie you would be afraid, but we weren't scared of night. It meant that the tent of sky light stars would open and we would crane our necks back and talk. Talk about eight year old fears and wonder what we would look like when we were twenty. How we would change. It didn't matter much that my friend was skinny and had buck teeth or that I was chubby with incredibly large feet for my age. Everything was fine and when we looked up we weren't afraid of the curious future.

And then we heard him scream. He was yelling our names so loudly. We were busted again. Across the road. On the gate. In our nightgowns after dark. Only Mr. Miller was jumping up and down and flapping his arms and motioning us over towards the house. He was squealing and against the porch light dim we could tell he wasn't angry, only excited about something. The closer we came to the yard we could see Mr. Miller's face scrunched up and strange and his finger pointed sharp towards the green wet grass. It was there on the lawn, burning and popping. A meteorite. Mr. Miller said it was matter from the solar system. Fallen from up there. He wasn't even mad that we were on the fence because this was important he had said. Soon it was over like the way a sparkler from the fourth of July simply stops with that last shooting spark. I remember Mindy's teenage sister came home and thought we were stupid to be so excited. She hadn't seen it. She swatted us away and walked into the house. She was mean and wretched, but I still wanted to be her. I fell asleep on the top bunk that night wondering if it was anything special to see the sky fall.

Now I'm twenty three and drinking a raspberry ginger ale with my friend Pete. It is September and hot still. We are on his roof in the city. He is complaining about not being able to see the stars so well and what he going to do with himself in the Fall. I tell him about that night out at Miller's farm. He listens hard and tells me how beautiful, how rare of an occurrence. Do I know this he is asking me as he leans in closer. I hear him, like a murmur. But I am thinking, I am wondering if Mindy can remember that one night out of the hundreds we spent in childhood.

And Pete is now looking up like we all do to escape the ground. To swim around in the sky. I take out a deck of blue playing cards from my handbag and we begin to play war. I'm beating him but that's not why he's jealous. He wants to see one too. A moment that stops everything else. I can see it in the way he looks at the card that accidentally flies out of his hand and over the edge. Falling blue matter...

written in 1996/ats

You know our hearts beat time out very slowly

Finn and I found an old key strung on a cord. It is old and rusty and we have no idea what it might open. My dad came by today and dropped off brown paper bags full of crap that he had cleaned out of his barn and felt obliged to give back to me. My dad and I argued today as we do sometimes still. Over stupid things. There is no wondering about the origins of my rage. I stare into his brown eyes and feel my double helix spin madly out of control.

I have been in a piss poor mood all day and have drifted in and out of annoyance with the boys. I find myself looking around and wishing to be anywhere else than this place. Then I feel terrible and guilty and harsh. I snap and say things I do not mean. I wish my whole day was a Quaker meeting. I long for silent surrender. I wish I would only speak when moved by truth and light and good thoughts.

And the key I hope is for a tiny lock that erases the sad of the day. That turns the mechanism that throws joy into the room again.

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see your head in the fading light/and through the dark yr eyes shine bright

I have been trying to catch up on my listening. I always have music on around the house for the family, but I rarely listen to my pod casts or radio programs like I once did.
NPR was the soundtrack to my life as a young person. I got my news in the morning from NPR and most evenings I would listen to All things considered while I prepped as a server in both restaurants I worked. I knew what time it was according to the voice talking to me.
In 1994 when I had barely enough money to buy daily necessities like Camel Lights, NYTimes, coffee, and Rolling Rock I would still send my local station money because I really did love listening. I really did learn. I think I learned about David Sedaris on NPR for the first time and started piecing together what creative nonfiction was in my head. I knew way back then that I someday wanted to have an essay read on NPR. I am pretty certain that I am never going to be famous, but I am almost convinced that I will have an essay on NPR someday. You know when you see actors or ice skaters or ballerinas or contortionist on interviews and they tell you that they were fairly certain even from a young age that they would become this or that. Well, I feel like that too with NPR. You just say Ira Glass and all the hairs on my neck shake and shiver.

Anyhoo, I was listening to some TAL on the plane and listened to a great episode. It is here.

I reminded myself to tune the knob in my brain that allows me to pay closer attention. I am always better for listening to TAL because it makes me tune in and fall in sync with the random landscape of humanity. It was perfect that I loaded my ipod with these shows before I took my trip this weekend bc I feel like picked up on many stories and listened harder to people and lingered just a bit more over those character nuances all around me. More than anything I am aware now that it is part of my job to filter. It is part of my job to pay attention and recognize those moments when they wash right over you. When they pool at yr feet...

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Photo via www.thislife.org

But she always had a carefree mind of her own/with a devilish look in

Guy Kawasaki's BlogHer Party, originally uploaded by Wendy Piersall.

I love Guy Kawasaki.
I love that I think I saw Scott Bakula at SFO.
I love that my boys are rolling round the rug and dinner hangs heavy in the air.
I love that I did something that scared me.
I love that I found the affirmation I think I needed and how it is still keeping me cozy like a shrug.
I loved meeting those folks that I met.
I loved feeling like a round peg again.
and again...

Even time can do /Good things to you.

It was refreshing to be so free last night. It is lovely to be untethered from time to time. I have been practicing extreme restraint in not allowing my mind to wander to Ohio too much while I am here. It is really OK to unplug from motherhood and loverhood for a bit. Everything is fine and this is filling me up right now, this is charging me and setting me on fire.
I love that I drank 7 beers, went to sweet Maggie's party, wore red lipstick, met stellar people, talked about zeitgeist and vino, pondered Robert Verdi's sunglasses, enjoyed my kirtsy gang, and realized that I am on the path to doing exactly what I want to do. I want to soak all of this in, filter it through a soft light, and write it down.

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What separates me from you

DUDE. They are letting me be in charge of tech stuff here - I am mic wrangler and I am nervous!
I love blogher so much
talk soon
CHECK out this! I love Karen!
xo

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i wanna rock and roll all night

Look out SF there is a wild one in town!

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But the new road is an old friend/Fill it up again

Hello! My name is Erin and I'm thrilled to be guest blogging for Amy, as she is busy gallivanting and bettering the blogging universe at Blogher.

This is a fabulous chance for me to take blogging more seriously because I have a hard time pulling it together for my own blog, although I'm working on that. Lately there has been so much going on in my life, and that of my family, that it is hard to know what should get priority. I have my little business on Etsy, my husband has his business with construction and painting, and then there are the kids... Willow and Tucker. With all of our goings on, I feel like they get whatever attention and time is left sometimes, and to help remedy that, we have finally almost finished their playroom. This is their own universe, where their ideas rule, and they don't have to clean it up everyday (just every week). They are ecstatic when it's time to play in the playroom. It is full of all sorts of bits and bobs that I would have gotten rid of, but now have a fabulous home that isn't in my living room. I really believe that it is important for them to have a room that isn't subject to the rules of everyday life. To Willow, everything has a personality, whether it be a Barbie or a hunk of plastic cheese. And Tucker likes all his toys out in the open where he can see them at the same time. And who am I to argue? Long live the Playroom!

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I don't know if I could drive a car/Fast enough to get to where you are

Hey hey---
My lovely cousin Erin is going to post for me in the morning so I can keep my blog365 promise going- I may be able to post tomorrow night (but I might be having too many cocktails and living the high life),so she is so sweet to help me out.
Please give her some love? xoxoxoxo Amy who really needs to pack!

Sunset on the Golden Gate Bridge, originally uploaded by Wiggum03.

I am going to San Fran in the morning for Blogher and I am insanely excited. I flitted about my bedroom last night trying on outfits and realized that the art of primping for other women is so fun and it is like riding a bicycle. I am also quite astonished at how quickly things change in the span of one calendar year. I can remember be hunched over my old desktop last summer and reading all about the Chicago conference and thinking that it looked fun. I think I thought it was simply a networking conference about writing. I was so blog unversed at that time. I clearly thought that Blogher would have been much like any conference I would have attended for work. I would have extended arms, padded business card portfolio, wasted time, and had some fun yes, but I had no idea that going to Blogher would mean more.

I am a major extrovert and have no problem mixing and chatting and working a crowd. Rarely a year goes by without me dancing on a bar. I was very good in the business world as I made connections very well. I made connection after connection, but might not really have connected. I have often been resistant to change, saying that I have always had too many friends and had little time or energy for new ones. I held people at arms length and I hate it. I would work the work and then close the door right before someone would probably offer me some magical gift. It is called being stubborn and I learned it somewhere.

Doobleh-vay has given me a gift, it has made me reach beyond my easy breezy comfortable surface connection level and really care and learn about others in a new way. I had no idea that in a measly year I would form real relationships and connect in ways that would help me so much in my personal quest as writer. I had no idea I would come to care about people so much who lived inside my computer. I have made friendships and connections that have offered me wisdom & advice, money making gigs, the courage to write my novel, and the balls to send queries off that have landed me freelance writing jobs. I have been so moved by other people and blogs that I have sat here and sobbed and had my heart broken in ten thousand pieces. I have been enlightened and I have swooned and I have had my creative soul charged until fire flew from my fingertips.

I have discovered so very much about myself by dipping my toe in this community. I have also come to think about this conference. I may be way off, but I sense a real bonding experience. I think if I were to go back and look over those photographs on all the blogs in 2007 I would see the truth in the eyes that stare back. They were throwing their heads back and laughing, they were huddled together in small groups smiling, they were living loud right off the screen...They knew. And this year I know and it makes all the difference.

You are the jester of this courtyard/With a smile like a girl's

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Field and fountain, moor and mountain

I know it is July and any talk of Christmas is madness, but I must start now for my Handmade Holidays if I want to have any sense of bliss and joy during the real season. I like to make gifts for folks I love and last year we made a promise to start early so we would not be insane in December.

I think the holiday time is really for hanging out and enjoying each other. I used to love the rush and hustle bustle of finding perfect gifts, but as I get older I like to shop all year and buy things that speak to me for certain folks and make things that mean something.

This year I want to make some funky jigsawed key holders I saw in a cool Japanese book from the library and I found some old mirrors and doors from salvage that I want to pretty up. I also wanna make my own DIY version of these for folks and perhaps some lovely freezer paper stencil t-shirts. Kiddos are going to get wood toys from the shop and some new cool items are in the works. I also wanna keep making art smocks bc I think they are great gifts when paired with art supplies. I have to reign my enthusiasm in and choose three or four projects or I will go wonky and nuts.
Does anyone else start early on handmade projects?
One more thing...Are you going to blogher?
Email me yr cell number if ya wanna meet up and have a drink!
amytsharp(at) gmail (dot) com
and a partridge in a pear tree

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Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees

Little Ms. Cutie and this lock goddess are hosting a little contest over there.

This is an example of hair from the past. Hair that is not right short and not right long. This is tragic.

These are better long/short versions for me.


However, this is how the postman and neighbors see me as of late
The regrowth from hooker blond is frightening
small children shudder and run
I am sure I am blacklisted at Waldos
I would love to win
and treat myself
and dramatically throw my hats in the cloak closet
yes
yes
I may be forced to rock a beret at blogher
Pick me!

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But here in my heart I give you the best of my love

A Farmer Market Morning with just Blaise...






I have been searching the file folder in my mind for this flash fiction piece I read once and loved. It had been in this book and it had been this little gem:

The Paring Knife by Michael Oppenheimer

I found a knife under the refrigerator while the woman I love and I were cleaning our house. It was a small paring knife that we lost many years before and had forgotten about. I showed the knife to the woman I love and she said, "Oh. Where did you find it?" After I told her, she put the knife on the table and then went into the next room and continued to clean. While I cleaned the kitchen floor, I remembered something that happened four years before that explained how the knife had gotten under the refrigerator.

We had eaten a large dinner and had drunk many glasses of wine. We turned all the lights out, took our clothing off, and went to bed. We thought we would make love, but something happened and we had an argument while making love. We had never experienced such a thing. We both became extremely angry. I said some very hurtful things to the woman I love. She kicked at me in bed and I got out and went into the kitchen. I fumbled for a chair and sat down. I wanted to rest my arms on the table and then rest my head in my arms, but I felt the dirty dishes on the table and they were in the way. I became incensed. I swept everything that was on the table onto the floor. The noise was tremendous, but then the room was very quiet and I suddenly felt sad. I thought I had destroyed everything. I began to cry. The woman I love came into the kitchen and asked if I was all right. I said, "Yes." She turned the light on and we looked at the kitchen floor. Nothing much was broken, but the floor was very messy. We both laughed and then went back to bed and made love. The next morning we cleaned up the mess, but obviously overlooked the knife.

I was about to ask the woman I love if she remembered that incident when she came in from the next room and without saying a word, picked up the knife from the table and slid it back under the refrigerator.

God- I just love that piece!

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And we would scream together songs unsung

pretty patti images

We went into the city today on the bus. It was a great day full of friends, window shopping, walking, playgrounds, and energy. We were lucky to have dad meet us here for ice cream.

We are really lucky that this is working out. I have been home a whole year now. A whole year as a stay at home/work a little at home mama...It cannot have been a whole year already. Things are working out and I had little faith last year. I forget to focus on the fact that I have a really strong man for a husband. I am lucky. I see the look in some pals eyes, I know I won the lottery with soul mates. I got the whole shebang and I really do sit and shake my head some times at my charmed little luck. I forget that even with the crappy luck in the housing market and two mortgages, that we are making this work because we are a pretty damn good team.

I wanna stay home another year at least. I am putting it out to the universe that I am so open and ready for my writing to start to carry more of our weight. I am so putting it out there that as cool as it is that Joe can meet us for cones, it still makes me sad that today will be a 14 hour physical day on his strong smooth shoulders.

I will sit this weekend hunched over my novel and think about how very odd it is that a dream that was once just my little spark, my little beacon, glowing inside of me since I was a kid ( to write a book) has become just as much about these people I love and how they share this dream with me now. My goals and aspirations are now lovingly taken care of by more than just my heart. My dreams have been resuscitated by Joe, blown life back into lungs and he has helped me find a way home. He has helped me to find a way to write my stories again and his support opened a door inside of me as a mother that was once shut. I am sappy with my love for him on this hot sticky day. Happy Weekend. Kiss yr mate today. That is an order.







***Found out they are droog design lights for those of you who asked! I love them so! Charly from Jenis Ice Cream told me!!!

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With my own two hands/I can reach out to you

You know those framed art pieces that sit dusty in thrift stores or in yr own basement?
The inspirational quote with majestic mountain backdrop or that Monet Starry Night from yr college apartment?
They always look so sad to me and sometimes I buy them for a quarter just to do things like this:


We took Styrofoam meat trays and made some prints
(like these ones from valentines)
simple simple
Just carve yr image with a toothpick in Styrofoam!
(We used some of daddy's old blueprints for paper)
Then we took a sad little Rosemary poem print picture and decoupaged Finn's prints right over the glass. It is drying nicely and for gift giving you could go over the top to make sure no bubbles were trapped, but for a four year old he did a great job!
We also had some cool prints left over in the Finnian organics series to give as cards.
It was a very productive morning and Finn learned to recycle and upcycle and think about art beyond perfect crisp new supplies!






Too bad the rest of the day is looking kinda like this:
AGHHHHHH!

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Honey I'm a roller concrete clover

I love Grey Gardens so much. The first time I saw it I was mesmerized and put into some sort of woozy trance like state. I love upstate is having a fun contest! Check it out here and take a risk and expose yr inner Little Edie. I entered the contest today (hurry it ends 7/10!) and had some fun! My photos are crazy and fun but I already know who should win. Check out this. ( I love beanpaste!)






I saw this on Kirtsy too

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And as I recall I think/we both kinda liked it

Dad was able to walk to work today so we scored the truck.
We went directly to church:


We also played in the water at the fountain:


and had ice cream before 10am:


Grandma gifted the boys with these:

And mama gifted herself with this frock from some freelance moolah:


Sometimes you really do need to treat yrself. Sometimes you need to take a day off from everything and just be. Blaise loves his new shoes and has said lots of new words today- they sound much like Mandarin and French mushed together, but he is really trying!
Finn said he liked driving around with me and listening to music. He was an angel at the mall. He even said I looked pretty as I tried in vain to stuff myself into a few dresses at Forever 21. Size large kiss my ass!

Show 'em how we do it

Making butter is so simple and fun!
Finn, Blaise, and pal Jack spent some time making butter this weekend and it was a huge success!
I had no idea that you could pour heavy whipping cream in a container with a lid and shake it for 20 minutes and butter would form!!!!
(And I am from Appalachia! )
I was delighted!
Seriously- need a break?
(Make butter-They have to shake for about 20 minutes to form the butter ball!)
It was awesome!
Check out a video clip of the shake shake here!
I just sat back and lounged a bit on the couch while they went crazy with shaking!
After the butter ball forms (and it is like so cool to see that!) simply drain off the liquid (buttermilk) and run cold water over the ball in the jar until the water runs clear and then pop in the fridge for a wonderful treat!
We had butter and crackers and juice and the whole table was pleased!

I've never had to knock on wood/But I know someone who has

They are so lovely I wanna gather them all up in my arms and kiss them...
New teethers in the shop!







and a new wee one here on earth now for me to spoil.

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Lookin' for adventure/In whatever comes our way

We watched Jack for the day while his parents attended a wedding and our very prego pal Kate and her son also popped over for an impromptu 8 hour play date. Boys are so awesome. I really am so happy that I have two. I like the way boys play. I like the way they work things out pretty quickly nowadays and how grudges do not exist yet. I like how they love each other so fiercely and wrestling is paramount to the day. How fast till they are men? Quickly I fear.

I read this poem the other day and shivered:

My Son the Man

by Sharon Olds

Suddenly his shoulders get a lot wider,

the way Houdini would expand his body

while people were putting him in chains. It seems

no time since I would help him to put on his sleeper,

guide his calves into the gold interior,

zip him up and toss him up and

catch his weight. I cannot imagine him

no longer a child, and I know I must get ready,

get over my fear of men now my son

is going to be one. This was not

what I had in mind when he pressed up through me like a

sealed trunk through the ice of the Hudson,

snapped the padlock, unsnaked the chains,

and appeared in my arms. Now he looks at me

the way Houdini studied a box

to learn the way out, then smiled and let himself be manacled

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Try to set the night on fire/yeah

pyrotechnics enchant me
on an airplane
or a boat
or in the theatre
or watching fireworks
Joe- I love to hold yr hand

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We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip

jules verne 1, originally uploaded by sparerobot.

I found this amazing young designer on flickr.
Her name is Aidan Vitti and she is so cool. Finn could rock her Steampunk/Jules Verne frocks! This is the kind of artist that I wish I had tons of money and could throw it at her and say, "Here sister- go and create"!!!

I wish everyone a Happy Holiday Weekend! I will post a bit over the weekend to fulfill my blog365.

xo

(pics via aidan site & flickr)

My whole life was like a picture of a sunny day

We love to make paper crafts here and Finn is collecting a little scissor collection. He loves to cut! When we go to the craft store he heads right to the cutter isle as he calls it.
(HELP-should I be buying left handed scissors for him? He is a lefty - am certain)

We made recycled lanterns this year (check it out) and it was fun, but Finn had trouble helping me then, but now he is like Edward Scissorhandhole.

Daddy sometimes has leftover blueprints and plans from work and we like to recycle them into art. Today we made giant lanterns to hang outside tomorrow night for our 4Th of July festivities. (It is our first real firework and such night- Joe the Brit and young kids ya know?) It was Joe's idea though, to let em stay up late and watch the fireworks! I am so excited!

You can make lanterns with any size paper and the simplest way to make them is to fold over the paper and cut on the fold. Make a bunch of slits but do not go all the way across the paper- leave an edge at the top. Unfold the paper and staple the short edges together. Cut a strip of paper for yr handle and VIOLA! It is good fine motor practice for the little guys and I can't believe how gorgeous they look hanging from the trees. If I were a real fancy pants I would string fairy lights through them too!

It rained on a few of them today, but the rest are safely tucked inside for Friday night. They look amazing against the green lush trees. I cannot wait to see what 20-30 of them look like in the backyard with some luminaries and sparklers. They are really simple, but make a major statement!

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Am I living it right/Am I living it right?

I need to start sharing bit and pieces of the novel. I need to give to receive. I wonder about my characters, but am so afraid to breathe all the life inside of their lungs, like I am afraid they will rise and walk off the page and not look back at me. They might leave me. How can so much worry live inside of one head?



Getter's was really just an old airstream trailer parked about a mile back of Cecilia Kelly's parents property. Mrs Getter's and Dr. Kelly had worked out a deal that let her park her motor home there year round. The Getter family bartered in the business of flowers as they owned Bloomsville Nursery outside of town and gave the Kelly's flowers and shrubs and Christmas trees and grave blankets each year in return for the space to park her "Virgina Woolf" trailer as she called it.

Mrs. Getter's was supposed to have followed her literary dreams and become the next Kate Chopin, but she got knocked up in the back of Gleason's Bowling Alley at age 18 and settled into a domesticated role of mother and caretaker to her family and customer service matriarch of the family business.

She told me once with her crazy eyes "Every woman needed a hell bit more than a room of one's own". She said we all needed an airstream. Getter as we called her, came out to Woolfie three times a year by herself for some sort of vision quest. She was aways there for a week in January for her new years mediation, for two weeks in June, and a long weekend in October. Her husband came out with her for a few days at the end of her summer visit. I think he was more grunt worker that companion as he was always doing some chore or tinkering around the trailer. The rest of the year it was me and CC's own private Idaho. At the foot of the airstream is buried a half dozen Folgers coffee tin cans. Some are time capsules written by young girls, some are vessels that hold cigarette and matchbooks from long gone taverns, and I think one can still might hold a quarter bag of weed. I know one tin can holds a letter to myself, a letter from my past that even as an adult has kept me up at night thinking too long about it and the off chance that someone might dig it up and read my secrets.


Cecilia and I had met the year before in choir class. I actually courted her. She was friends with Gretchen Grendles, who I was not really friends with but more like stuck with in the realm of public school alphabetical fate. CC, as she was known to all, went to the same church as Gretchen. They both had normal families with houses that were tidy and new cars every couple years. Their handsome dads drank beer and played golf and they vacationed at Myrtle Beach. My house was a bit of a pit and we drove a primer colored old El Camino. There was no liquor to steal in our home and our hobbies included ham radios, historical landmarks, and country and western music. Way too avant-garde for ____, Ohio. In the land before cell phones my parents would chat to each other via small CB radios that hung from dashboards. It was one of the activities that I enjoyed but only in the safety of my family. CB radio aficionados have handles or aliases that they use to talk with other folks. Handles are like call letters. Mine was Sweetie Pie 73. It was obviously given to me when I was small and sweet. Now when I used it or heard it come over the radio as we drove, it sounded like a lie. I was not sweet. I was a mean ass teenager who had just discovered rage.

I think I was angry at the DNA fate I was given. Much as you might scream and stamp your little feet, you cannot choose your parents. I wanted Missy White's parents. I wanted a tan thin mother who smoked Capri cigarettes and went to bingo and cards. I wanted a dad who watched football and stroked my hair and kissed me and called me his angel. I wanted my dad to wear a t-shirt for christsakes. An athletic short? Jeans? Nope. Cool plastic sunglasses like Tom Cruise? Nope.He wore aviators when aviators were not cool. Aviators forever.

My dad proudly wore his work clothing most places. A button up long sleeve shirt and Dickies trousers announcing to the world his blue collar status with pride. I was 12 before I saw my fathers pale blaring white arms. He was a handsome man. He would be a hipsters wet dream nowadays. Thick jet black hair and chops and boots. A wicked grin. I have the same one. It works on lots of people. Always has.

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God knows when/But yr doing it again

It is no secret that Finnian loves Bob Dylan.


He loves watching Dylan on youtube.



This morning (too early) he wanted to make a video. I said sure. The thing is with music that it makes a really cool bridge to chat about all sort of things with yr child. I don't think Finn is ready to chat about counterculture and all the references this greatest song in the world holds, but I sure tell him all about Bob Dylan and what a cool cat he is. When I taught kids about history I always used music as a large part of the lesson planning.

Finn's video is surely a four-year-old kiddo representation of the classic. It sure is hard to watch and not edited, but it sure makes me smile. Perhaps he won't love Bob when he is older, but he might retrieve some of these memories and hold them dear. He may be like me and have the music of The Eagles, my parents tunes, resonate through his adult brain and fill his mind with safe fleeting shakes. He may feel all the way down his spine when he hears Dylan in a bar someday that once, a long time ago, everything was easy and just right. He might.

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