Sunday, August 17, 2008

Friday, August 15, 2008

And we're off!

Tomorrow morning at 4am I will packing my two little people in the car for a cross country excursion. I can't wait.

We've been looking forward to this for weeks now, driving west, getting out into the open, visiting the wilderness of South Dakota, Wyoming, Utah... I can't believe the day is almost here. And I am so moved that I am able to show my children these things that my father showed me as child. The mudpots of yellowstone, the fossilized bones of the badlands, the great salt lake mountains. But best of all, is our planned stop to Nebraska City. I nearly tremble thinking about it! I grew up in Nebraska and we spent many days at the Arbor Farm in Nebraska City making cider, learning how bees make honey, and presenting our own shabby quilts at the 4-H fairs. And now I, as a full on grown up, get to revisit these warm spots so rich with memories. And I get to share this with kids of my own! I can't wait.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Two fantastic websites

I adore these designs....feminine yet sturdy.

I especially like the use of mixed media in this design. Hand drawn elements are the future for web design. They add a personal quality to an impersonal, over saturated internet.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Sunday Evening Update

It is Sunday evening and I am listening to Howard Shore scores. It rained for a few minutes, heavy thudding drops, the thick full plops burst against my skylight, leaving a dramatic splatter, and an even more dramatic echo throughout the loft area.

This weekend was surprisingly normal. I am working on making peace with normal. I doubt that all this self-induced drama is good for my future or my complexion.

Yesterday I had my hair thinned out, still trying to recover from helmet hair courtesy of my last hair dresser. I have tragically perfect hair, how hard can it be to cut?

I've nearly finished reading Twilight, which is fairly good for a teenage saga. I'm getting too old to read these sagas, and perhaps too old for the Miley Cyrus song I just uploaded to my iPod.

Today I took a lovely picture of a pinecone in the grass. It was staring at me. Saying "wouldn't I make a lovely image?" and I said "I've heard that one before, and then you switch the lighting and textures, by the time your image gets onto my computer it's unfixable." But something told me to try once more. And I am glad I did. I'm rather happy with the outcome.

Tomorrow means RedDot, and a full day of work. I'm excited to go in. I love my job. I only hope my boss thinks I am progressing as he hoped.

One more week then it's road trip time. I am looking forward to the open road and the peace and quiet of the Black Hills.

Payton's Birthday Cake

Though we had her "friend's party" a week ago, today is the actual day of Payton's birthday. Today she is 10 years old. Double digits. She is the brightest star in my life. She is so full of natural kindness and selfless goodwill. I have never known a soul so pure. And I, at the age of 21, was entrusted to care for that angelic soul, and to try my best to keep the world from hardening her. A decade has past since her birth. I can't believe how time passes. And I can't believe how a beautiful child can become an even more beautiful person.

Chris baked her a cocoa cake and made butter cream frosting. Payton decorated the cake herself and it was lovely!

Happy Birthday Payton!

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Splendid Garden

I am astounded, nearly to tears, seeing food grow from the soil in my backyard. Real, edible, plump vegetables. I watched them from seed to bloom, and I never tire of watching the tomatoes ripen on the vine. This display of nature bursting forth with and without the aid of a caring hand and plentiful garden hose, is a true miracle which our family has brought to life.

Friday, August 8, 2008

The Wheelbarrow Fire

We had a bonfire tonight, in a wheelbarrow in the backyard. Chris says we are true rednecks now! The fire burned up some brush I pulled out of the garden and lasted about 30 minutes.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Payton's Party

Payton had her 10th birthday party at the park with 500 of her friends this past weekend. It was a luau and so fun!

I tried to boil eggs for the potato salad, but alas even this can be screwed up!

The luau begins!

Ryland, my nephew

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

More Flowers!

A trunk full of flowers!! (and a new garden hose!!!)

Oh the joy of black eyed susans! I saw a yellow finch perched on the bud of my flowers, feeding on the seeds.

This weekend I sprayed painted my lawn chairs to match the house! They turned out fantastic!

These violent delights have violent ends

Yesterday I had to say goodbye to a huge part of my life. Something that brought me immeasurable joy has come to an end by my own doing. It was, in fact, a violent delight, but as is often coupled with such intense emotions, it frequently found me sobbing in private moments, circling parking lots in my car.

It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden.
Romeo and Juliet, 2. 2

The love which I loved with was not matched by my object of affection. It felt for me, the minimalist love to bring me hope that someday the bud would bloom. But such buds that lie dormant 3 years later wither in their bud state, and eventually turn towards a brighter sun.

And I couldn't bear to see that happen.

Tempt not a desperate man.
Romeo and Juliet, 5. 3

It seemed if I loved well enough, if I fed with the deepest waters of my soul, perhaps the object of my affection would agree that a garden could, no, should grow in a love-luster world. But mine was desperation of the heart, and his was pragmatism of the mind. And of course, his heart never got to the place mine was.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Romeo and Juliet. ACT II Scene 6.

And the light went out when I realized I was boxed in with a shelf life. I could not convince myself that portioning the heart was ever a good idea. Because I was taught when you love something, you love it all the way.

For stony limits cannot hold love out.
Romeo and Juliet. ACT II Scene 2.

Therefore I killed it on a hot August evening, when I would have preferred drinking lemonade and watching the children ride bikes in the driveway. In my car, circling parking lots, I killed us, past and future.

And though I protest it, I'm fairly certain tomorrow the sun will rise and another day will begin.

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
Romeo and Juliet. ACT I Scene 4.

Friday, August 1, 2008

David Eatock's Mini Manifesto

David Eatock's Mini Manifesto

Begin with ideas
Embrace chance
Celebrate coincidence
Ad-lib and make things up
Eliminate superfluous elements
Subvert expectation
Make something difficult look easy
Be first or last
Believe complex ideas can produce simple things
Trust the process
Allow concepts to determine form
Reduce material and production to their essence
Sustain the integrity of an idea
Propose honesty as a solution

Pondering life...and garbage

I adore working in the city. While walking into work I make a mental note of the trash on the street. It's typical to see beer bottles and pizza boxes. But ever so often I encounter an odd piece of trash which is fascinating enough to record in my Moleskine. So far here is a list of the interesting trash articles I recorded.

broken hot pink flower barrett
DeLux DuRag
icy pop sleeve
plastic shower curtain ring
crushed cigar case
barbie doll head

In June a squirrel died on Gilmer Street. I don't know how it died, the body was pretty well intact. Perhaps it ate bad trash and died of a stomach bug. The squirels in this town are ragged with shredded tails and caved bellies.

The squirrel died right on the side of the street, little paws reaching towards the curb. I saw the squirrel on a Thursday. I was looking for parking but refused to park on top of the dead squirrel. By the Monday the corpse was covered in flies, steaming in the summer heat. Again I would not park here, and it appeared, nobody else would either. By Thursday the squirrel had decomposed, it's canine teeth showing long through the decayed upper lip. Just a few flies circled the squirrel now. It's ribs showed through the translucent dead skin. Only patches of fur remained on it's head and tuft where his tail once was. By the following Wednesday the squirrel was only bits of bones, garbage and street grime burned into the blacktop. Then the sweeper trucks came around on their monthly clean up, and all traces of the squirrel were washed away.

I apologize for the morbidity of that story. It struck me deeply, how science ultimately conquers the art and love we create in life. Perhaps in the end, all this heartache is nothing that can't be cleaned up by a city street sweeper. I realize I know nothing about my great great grandmother. Does anybody?

Because as I am living this life, as I am experiencing miracles and blessings I want it to make a difference in the universe. I fear that the only traces of how we lived our life is the trash blowing down Broad Street on a July morning in 2008.

All this trash. What can we contribute to this macrocosm that will be tangible but not material. How will my great great grandchildren know I was here and that I loved and lived and achieved?