The Scarf Fairy Who Refused to Become A Leg Warmer Fairy (Despite Badgering & Hellacious Harassment!)

There once lived a long haired Heatherbebetterbones who lived in Chicago with her little Chiwawa, Chavdar, and spools and spools of yarn. All day long she knitted the days away, turning the minutes into luscious scarves which she then lovingly folded into envelopes and sent them off to her friend and mentor, Alexandra. One Halloween weekend she came to visit Alexandra in Portland, Oregon. Heather thought she was coming for a fantastical visit where she would be whisked to and fro art festivals, bookstores as vast as some cities, waterfalls, and cupcake cafes. But her sweetly evil friend had other plans. They involved locks and chains, needles and thread, legs and basements. As soon as Heather arrived at Alexandra’s home, she was invited (by her very trim and lean) host to a full tour of the homestead. Heather toured the dahlias and the stacks of books, the art and the magic chair, the cake stands and the lanterns. Then! it was time to see the basement. As they descended down the stairs, Alexandra licked her chops and sneakily snook a key into her knickers’ pocket. While Heter browsed about, Alexandra ran speedily back up the stairs, where she quickly closed the door behind her and locked it.


Heatherbebetterbones was trapped. But she would quickly learn that she wasn’t alone. Her friend had in fact been preparing for years and years for this very moment, and at last it had arrived! Alexandra turned on the tellie, louder and louder and louder to drown out the increasingly loud knocking and banging from the basement. While Alexandra ate popcorn and watched Bread and Tulips, Heather grew tired of her pleas to be set free,and that is when she found the basket of goodies and a note that her dear friend, and now captor too, had left for her.
Dear Heterbones, it read, Welcome to my lovely, lovely basement! Along with this note you will find in this basket ten spools of yarn and ten cupcakes. You must produce ten pairs of leg warmers for me if you ever wish to see sunlight again. After you have produced the last pair, please hoist them up the laundry chute and you will then be released. P.S. The cupcakes are for you to be converted into mighty fuel to keep those magical knitting fingers of yours from ever stopping.

Unfortunately, Heatherbebetterbones found a way to break free and poor, dear Alexandra continues to be nearly leg warmerless except for two pairs she was able to find at Tarjay.
The
End!

All my life I have gone through little apparel obsessions where thats all I wear for weeks and months! Right now that happens to be leg warmers. (I mean, I wear more than just leg warmers but I wear them with everything right now and feel incomplete without them keeping my lowest half in the height of comfort that I convinced only leg wamers can provide me. Now I’m on the search for ones in bright, radiant colors, even with buttons or other various images sewn into them! I may just have to learn to make them myself, but I have had two failed attempts already at attempting to learn to knit and I’m a bit ‘knitshy’ to try again.

I have a hard time letting myself be a beginner. I really do. Its not a trait of mine that I enjoy, to say the least. I want to be an instant expert, and because of this, I am an expert at possibly nothing! There are two things I feel drawn to lately, knitting and painting. With painting, it isn’t really for the purpose of painting something specific and certainly not for a career. Rather, I feel more drawn to the process of it, the opportunity to play and experiment and see what happens. I’ve really needed another outlet besides writing. I started my second canvas last week. It’s part of a little series of tiny but very tall wacky men I am calling “Going Batty!” But I notice even with these, this little experiment I really am doing at heart just for my eyes and my eyes only, even here the inner critic finds a way in. And that is very sad to me. Is there nowhere that the inner critic can’t find a way to burst in? Sometimes I do try to engage it in dialogue, and sometimes this helps, but more often it is like an uninvited guest crashing the party of my creative spirit. But I continue to persist. My friend, Kelly, has been so gracious and encouraging, emailing me wisdom and tidbits to help me along with the process. (Thank you Kelly!)

In the meantime, I’ve been busy having a wonderful time with my dear friend, Heather, who is visiting me for five days. She recently started her own wonderful blog which you can visit here. We’ve been out to Sylvie Island to a pumpkin patch and corn maze, visiting various wonderful shopping districts of Portland, the Saturday Market, Multnomah Falls, Kennedy School, Mabel's Knit Cafe, . I wish Heter would move here but she says she doesn’t think she wants to be quite this far from her family. I keep trying to convey to her that she really is in a unque situation though because the reality is her parents really don’t want her quite so close! So, we’ll see. Theres hope yet!

P.S. Happy Halloween!

You've Gotta Love These Freaky Family Value Republicans !

(copied and pasted from Salon, written by Tim Grieve)

As the Associated Press reports, Republican Wyoming Rep. Barbara Cubin, in a closer reelection race than she probably anticipated, wasn't very happy when Libertarian candidate Thomas Rankin repeatedly mentioned during a debate Sunday night that Cubin had received $22,000 from Tom DeLay's Americans for a Republican Majority PAC.

After the debate, she made her way over to Rankin, who suffers from multiple sclerosis and uses an electric wheelchair, to have what we in the business call a frank exchange. "My aide and I were packing up to leave the debate," Rankin says, "and Barbara walked over to me and said, 'If you weren't sitting in that chair, I'd slap you across the face.'"

Cubin won't talk about the incident. Her spokesman issued a classic non-denial denial: "Mr. Rankin misrepresented Mrs. Cubin's positions and insulted her integrity during the debate. When she approached him after the debate, he said something not very complimentary. She responded. It was a private conversation. She's over it. Just last week, she had an art center for the developmentally disabled named in her honor. Anyone who knows her knows she would never lash out at someone unprovoked. She believes voters are sick of this type of political maneuvering. She has nothing more to say."

-- Tim Grieve

Tom Delay, Hurricane Katrina, Military Commissions Report, Afganistan, IRAQ, Foley, The "clear skies" Initiative, Enron scandal, Bush flying back overnight to "save" Terri Schiavo, Halliburton scandal overcharging Pentagon by $61 million, outing a covert CIA operative, the Indian gaming/Jack Abramoff scandal, Abu Ghraib, Barbara Cubin, Dick Cheney telling a senator to "go fuck himself" on the Senate floor, ....yes, these Republicans are very special people indeed!

crow mess

The squirrels and crows and misc other little birdies are wreaking havoc on my landscaping. They are pecking away incessantly into the dirt and leaving little holes and peckmarks everywhere their beaks and paws have digged. Looks lke its time for me to dig out my hunting gear! just a joke- I'm well aware that its really us lowly humans whom have encroached mercilessly onto their territory and need to respectfully allow them to do what they will but I'm still astounded at what a mess these teensy beensy creatures can make.

Its always an amusing thing when I think all us creatures of varying sorts are all plopped down on the same planet together, and yet, we fail to see the precious lifeforce in one another's eyes. I've been quite guilty of this myself! When I lived in Bulgaria, one of the quite funny details was that all the pet dogs have American names, like 'Bill' or 'Elizabeth', 'Jim' or the poodle, 'Lisa,' who lived on the floor above my colleague. In the apartment below mine lived a German shepherd named Rex and a docson named Susie. They use to scurry outside onto their balcony below mine and bark their heads off at five in the morning, often earlier. As soon as the neighborhood chickens started up, they'd race outside and raise a ruckus. At first, I tried to be polite. "Behave yourself, girlie!" I told myself. "You are a Peace Corps Volunteer, a mini American Ambassador of sorts, the first American many of the people in this teeny, pinkyprint town have ever seen, truly. You can't go putting bows and arrows through one of their local pups!" So I grinned and bared it. (not that I'd really ever ever use bows and arrows, but I might be convinced to use toddler's rubber darts)

Since my downstairs neighbor's deck extended far out past my little balcony, I got full eyeshots of the two little pups and this was how I became Peace Corps' first canine sniper. A few months into my stay, I purchased a whole sack of little paper drinking cups. I filled them with water one by one and left the tray by the kitchen door that opened onto the balcony. When the pittypatpat of puppy paws came running out before the crack of dawn, I launched my offense. Cup after cup after cup of water reigned down on Rex and Susie. Over the next two years I poured cups of water on them repeatedly, many, many, cups. When they exceeded what seemed like a generously reasonable period of barking time, I filled my water cups and then out the door I'd go. After awhile they understood that when they heard my kitchen door creak open to trot back inside on the speedio.

Anyway, all this havoc these crows and squirrels are wreaking across my property has me thinking maybe its payback time for me! Maybe these are hitcrows hired by Rex and Susie. You never know! Anyway, it won't be my yard for much longer anyway as my house has unexpectedly sold quite quickly! Yes, I did it! You can see the new house I just bought here ! Can't believe it! Do come visit!

GoiNg bAttY...

(Before or after you read this, please do swing over to Swirly's site if you have a moment as she is requesting partcipation in a project and you can help by answering her question! Thank you!)

I was thirty-two when I learned what "crow's feet" meant. I honest to God thought it referred to some type of wrinkle lines that would appear literally on your feet as you aged. I remember going home and pinning my nose up against the mirror and seeing those first, faint signs of them beside my own eyes, and actually digging them! They look like mini bat wings, like quote signs with my little eyeball sockets as the sentences inbetween.

I remembered this when I heard Nora Ephron say recently, "Savor everything! Do you really want your last thought before a bus hits you to be "I wish I'd eaten that donut!" I've sometimes asked clients what their ideal day in great detail looks like followed by the question, "How many of those details have worked their way into today?" It's telling how few of these details do become priorities to fit into our daily lives. There really is room for the scrumptious details, the polka dots on the ceiling (see Laini's new writing room!), the sunrise pancake breakfast at the beach (on a workday!), the tango on the moonlit roof at midnight, and the quieter, seemingly unimportant moments- a bedside book, candlelit bath.

Theres A LOT about my life right now that I wish was different. I wish I had children scribbling and coloring away ferociously at the kitchen table, a greener thumb, my MFT license by now, but through the cracks of everything that has not panned out so many blessings still shine through & I'm trying to appreciate and remember that too, that I still have me! Yesterday I did something I rarely, rarely do! I took a long walk in my own neighborhood, down tree lined streets with lavendar bushes poking out under front porch steps, dahlias taking in their last breaths before the cool weather of autumn sends them away until next year. Its amazing just how much I miss driving down these same streets. I met a couple neighbors, touched the plum and cranberry and fuschia leaves that make fall my favorite season here in Portland, and had time to engage in serious talks with my tush! The dialogue went something like this: "Tush, there's not enough room in here for the both of us. One of us has to go, and its not going to be me!" Sort of like an old-fashioned showdown. I'm going to terrify my tush into submission. I've taken away all its weapons- cupcakes, frappachinos, & bread. Its threatening to totally annihilate me if I don't give them back, but I'm not afraid! I have laid out my "inspirational super skinny outfit" where I can see it every day. (I don't really want to be super skinny, but I do want to be able to run with my brother this next spring in a half marathon and to fit back comfortably into my favorite Anthropologie skirt. That can only happen by pelting out tough talk to the tush!) Other than that, I just completed the application to be a Big Sister mentor which I'm really excited about, and trying to plot out how I can make it to Croatia and Bulgaria this upcoming summer. There is a wonderful organization, Global Children's Organization, based out of LA and run by a terrific woman named Judith Jenya. For the past ten plus years, they have run summer camps for child victims of war and my dream is to volunteer there for two weeks this summer, and then spend a week or so in Dubrovnik and then hop on a train to Bulgaria. I am getting close to a free roundtrip frequent flyer ticket so it shouldn't be too hard to pull together. I may have to go back to making some extra $ on the side juggling antelopes and bat bottoms at the circus in Azebejan but I think I can do it!

In other news, I had SUCH a special time meeting Misty Mawn, Nina Bagley, and Katie Kendrick, all of whom were in town this past week for Art and Soul here in Portland, and reuniting with Kelly again who is one of my very favorite people I have met since moving to this city. I bought an original of her paintings which I am terribly excited about and will post here as soon as a photo is taken. I also got to meet the wonderful Abigail and her deluxe pup, Perkins, who is quite the canine.I'm amazed at the wonderful people I have met through here, and find it incredible how none of our paths would have crossed were it not for the Net. For all I don't like about our techie world and fear what we are losing much of in the process on so many levels, its hard to dislike it too much when I meet such kindred souls like them! Wouldn't it be amazing if a whole bunch of us all lived in the same city? We could bring fresh bananabread to Liz Elayne on Poetry Thursdays, take turns babysitting for Monica so she had afternoons off to write, cheer Megg on at the finish line of her marathons, have monthly potlucks, exchange Claudia's georgeous bags, and just have a big huge creativefest every single day! I get a little taste of it living so close to these two creative dynamos but can't help but dream of an even bigger community. Who wants to buy up a whole block of houses here in Portland and get started? Can't you see it? The main street cut off from traffic with big huge Gypsy tents staked out in the streets with all sorts of collage and quilting and writing activities transpiring inside, jewlery making and cookie & cupcake baking and candle lighting and rooftop salsa dancing, ...oh the possibilities! of course we would also need some dynamo male bloggers to move in too along with husbands and pets and goldfish. Who's in?!?

SweeT QuoTes FoR ThoughT

"Force always attracts men of low morality."
-Albert Einstein

"Why should we hear about body bags and deaths? Oh, I mean, it's not relevant. So why should I waste my beautiful mind on something like that?"
-Barbara Bush, March 18, 2003/ Good Morning America

"Almost everyone I've talked to says, 'We're gonna move to Houston.' What I'm hearing, which is sort of scary, is they all want to stay in Texas... Everybody is so overwhelmed by the hospitality, and so many of the people in the arenas here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working very well for them."
-Barbara Bush, September 5, 2005, while visiting mostly poor and black Katrina refugees evacuated from New Orleans to a Texas sports arena

"Go fuck yourself." —Vice President Dick Cheney to Sen. Patrick Leahy, during an angry exchange on the Senate floor about profiteering by Halliburton 


(Following excerpt is David Fink of the Hartford Courant interviewing George W. Bush at the 1988 Republican Convention:)
Q: When you're not talking about politics, what do you and your father talk about?
Bush: Pussy.

"ThIs TiMe I DaNcE!"

Has anyone here read this amazing book by Tama Kieves ? This Time I Dance! caught my eye several years ago while I was living in Los Angeles. Tama was a graduate of Harvard Law School and employed at a highpower firm all the while what she really longed to do was to write. This Time I Dance is about her journey, the leap of faith into the work that she really wanted to do, and she mentioned it took her twelve years to write it just right, and what I also loved is how she speaks to the reader throughout the book as well in such an encouraging and beautiful way. So it has been one of my favorites for some time now and when I saw that she was here this weekend doing workshops, I contacted her and we met yesterday for a private book coaching session. If you haven't read it, do check it out. Its been one of these classic books that spreads through word of mouth, the kind of book you buy for friends when they are between leaps in their lives.

I think our session was the very best money I have spent in some time. Until I was sharing my story out loud with Tama, I don't think I realized how much my writing self has been suffering this past year, just how much a part of me had somewhat thrown in the towel and convinced myself it wasn't all that important to me. I've been writing plenty, but there has been a profound undercurrent within whispering, "whats the point?" As we spoke, a few things become really clear. The book that Laini and I put together a few years ago, I did the writing and she the extraordinary art/collage, speaks deeper to me than anything else I have ever created. I do love this book, and there was a time when I was so courageous and motivated that I actually sent it out into the world, and we even got some amazing responses- a hair's breath away from an acceptance by my favorite publisher, a wonderful endorsement from SARK calling it a "bursting, kaleidescopic treasure chest of a book!", and a foreword by two writers I cherish, Swirly and Keri Smith. So when Tama held it in her hands yesterday and exclaimed, "This book could sell A LOT of copies!" I was jolted back into a really clear knowing that this book is meant to be out in the world, and I can't give up. All the faith that had abandoned me, or maybe I abandoned it, came surging back and I feel very positive about relaunching it out into the world. It's one of those books that crosses genres- part personal growth, part self-help, lots of art and color so it will require the right hands willing to take a chance on it, but I'm ready again for the next step of the process and that feels so very good, as if I have reconnected with what I most need to feel to feel truly alive in the world.

One thing that comes up for me as I write is I'm thinking how last year when this one publisher in the end decided to pass after what looked like such a go, it hurt terribly. The very next day, multiple offers started coming in for Laini's Dreamdark fantasy series, and having bonded with my best friend as fellow writers back in our college days (those seem so freaky long ago even though I have not aged one teensy bit and Laini has aged just terribly! j/k Laini!) , I think there was a part of me that surrendered, and felt like maybe it wasn't meant to be for both of us, as if there were only so much room in the publishing pot. Combine that with a recent move to a whole new state, months of nonstop rain,and a couple of other huge events I won't detail here, I can see now how I lost my footing, as if my very soul was suffering from an awful vertigo, and I see now, a true crisis of faith. Its so easy to lay our dreams down and never pick them up again.

After this past year, I feel like I really get it for the first time just how easy it is to give up, to toss a few heavy blankets over our own voice and longings. I use to think giving up was perhaps a sign of weakness, but now I see it isn't weakness whatsoever, even if many want to judge it as just that. It is far more about just how overwhelmingly painful life can become, and then along with the pain, too often depression, and then of course, depression has its own distorted, crippling voices which sound all too real and convincing. The voice of depression likes to act as if it is a fortune-teller, whispering that there is no room in reality for our deepest aspirations, but it can only ever glimpse a sliver of the possibilities that I know in my heart really do exist for each and every one of us.

Now that I have been coming out the other end of it all, slowly but surely the last couple of months, I can see how muddled my sense of possibilities had become, and how I'd muffled my own voice to an octave where I could no longer hear it. I hope I don't forget how insidious this process truly is so that I can help others through it, and identify it much quicker should, or when, it pays me a visit again in the future.