{AW} an artist date, a salad quest

blogger has not been my friend this weekend...tried to post several times...so will probably post twice today.

Friday night I went on an artist date to a favorite place of mine, a grocery store called Metropolitan Market.
I walked in, grabbed a basket and began walking. I had two goals. The first was to take in the colors and textures of the market. The second, to find the ingredients to recreate a salad I had discovered the week before. I would like to eat more salad, but lettuce does not do much for me. But if the salad is easy to make and seems "gourmet," then I can do it.

Goal one: The produce section. The colors are as many as in a 96 box of Crayolas. Greens, reds, pinks, yellows, purples. The first time I walked into this store when we moved here I almost started weeping in the midst of the produce. The displays, the smells, the choices. The smooth apples, the damp, delicate lettuce, the slight bumpy texture of an orange. As I walk through the rest of the store, I try to take in which colors attract my eye. Reds, oranges, blues. Several times I wish for my camera. Let your eyes be the lens sometimes, I remind myself. And I couldn't help but wonder "would I be allowed to take pictures at a grocery store?" I can imagine myself saying to the guy mopping the floor, "I am not a spy."

Goal two: Green leaf lettuce, red bib lettuce, fresh crumpled blue cheese, fuji apples, walnuts, dried cranberries, and honey pear salad dressing. Yes, yes, yes.

another reading

The blue sky is crystal clear today.
No clouds in sight.
Which means day four of no rain dropping on my head, the house, the earth.
Millie and I went for a walk.
Breathing in the fresh, crisp, dry air.
But it is cold.
Ears-hurting cold.
So I will warm up with a bath
and another poetry reading in the tub.
I think I will start with these words by William Stafford.

Things That Happen

Sometimes before great events a person will try,
disguised, at his best, not to be a clown:
he feels, "A great event is coming, bow down."
And I, always looking for something anyway,
always bow down.

Once, later than dawn but early,
before the lines of the calendar fell,
one of those events turned an unseen corner
and came near, near, sounding before it
somethign the opposite from a leper's bell.

We were back of three mountains called
"Sisters" along the Green Lakes trail
and had crossed a ridge when that
one little puff of air touched us,
hardly felt at all.

That was the greatest event that day;
it righted all wrong.
I remember it, the way the dust moved there.
Something had come out of the ground
and moved calmly along.

No one was ahead of us, no one
in all that moon-like land.
Oh, I thought, how hard the world has tried
with its wind, its miles, its blundering
stumbling days, again and again, to find my hand.

(from Allegiance new poems by William Stafford)

solutions

problem: you both love enchiladas but each of you likes a different sauce.
solution: see above.

problem: you are intrigued by discussions of grey's anatomy but you missed the much talked about show on sunday.
solution: tune in to abc tomorrow night (9:30/8:30c) for an encore presentation and you too can find out why i wanted to pray for bailey's husband.

problem: you are busier than usual and feel discombobulated.
solution: find your breath. and breathe.

problem: you have missed several days of morning pages in your AW journey.
solution: let go of the guilt and try again tomorrow.

problem: you love chocolate more than some people in your life.
solution: eat dark chocolate. it is good for you (in small doses) and just rich enough that you don't want to eat an entire bar in one sitting.

problem: you have a very low self-image when it comes to how you look, your body, your beauty.
solution: find inspiration in this month's SPT posts.

what problems have you solved today? probably more than you realize...
I would love to hear about them.

{SPT} the me who hides

Sometimes
I pull my hood up
and a force field surrounds me
the darkness may have come
but I can protect myself
a habit that began in college
and when moments lead me to melancholy days
again
I find pulling my hood up around my head
creates
a security blanket for my soul

This month's SPT theme being all of me made me think about capturing the feeling of the me who hides from the world when loneliness, grief, or other feelings of sadness creep in.

I was able to quickly tap into this feeling as I sat on the couch this morning. And I took a few pictures with the timer...but as I tried to capture the last one, Millie would have no part of the sadness anymore. She seemed to pose for the camera, captivated by the sound of the timer. So here is another self-portrait: the me with the big smile. People say that I have a beautiful smile. I never believe them. I am always focused on my big teeth and the way that my lip comes up so far that you can see so much of my gums. But here I am. All of me. From the hiding to the laughter.

See more SPT photos here

little joys

here comes the sun. it was out all day today.
a visit with a dear friend (how lucky i am that every few months she travels from indiana to seattle for work).
pizza and beer.
watching grey's anatomy. i am still thinking of last week's episode. i cried through the last 10 minutes. and yesterday's episode. wow. wow. wow. i am a little too close to this show because i almost wrote "i should pray for bailey's husband." yes, yes, i know. it is not real.
finishing the book wicked. it was good. odd. interesting. the idea that we are often misunderstood as we carry our baggage.
a crocus is blooming. already. one little purple crocus. makes me so happy.
that my brother was signed to a record deal with a band he plays with. more details to come as i learn more.
curling up with millie and taking a nap.
the fact that my husband is dressing up like professor plum for school tomorrow. (the different advisory groups have to dress up with a theme - it's spirit week. his students came up with clue. so we were at macy's tonight searching for a purple shirt and tie. 30% off the already marked down 50% off. what more could you want?)
that my yoga students are sticking around after class to connect, ask questions, talk with me and each other.
singing songs with the weepies as i work.
that i am finally catching up on reading blogs.
that my editing work is starting to increase (oh please, please let this continue)
little moments when i can remind my husband that he can do anything and he hears me.
feeling really alive.
remembering that maybe, just maybe, i can do anything.

postcards

This is one of the postcards I made for the postcard swap organized by Christina (the rest of them are quite similar to this one, but each were created separately). I have received a few in the mail from others already. And I must admit that I have felt pretty special when I go to my mailbox with such anticipation and am given the gift of a postcard. I plan to upload them to flickr, but, of course, I am still figuring out how to create a link to my flickr page so stay tuned.

Creating all these little pieces of art that I have sent out into the universe to be discovered in a few mailboxes all over the country (and world) has been so much fun. And I am owning the fact that these are "little pieces of art." The sentiment expressed in this postcard seems to be for me too. Maybe it is also for you.

senses. a memory.

{see}
My apartment in Indiana, late March 2001. Books are stacked on shelves, on each other, on the floor. Storypeople adorn the walls. I sit on my purple chenille couch, the calypso flower print comforter from my bed across my lap. Next to me, curled up with his head on my lap, is my new companion, Traveler. I traveled to Tennessee to pick him up; his previous experiences are unknown to me, but he seems to realize he has found his forever home. He has lived with me for nine days. His fur is golden red; he wears a red collar and a green bandana. The only light is from the television. We are tucked into the couch, cuddled up, sharing the comforter watching Natalie Portman have a baby, fall in love, run away from love, run back to it in Where the Heart Is. Traveler's eyes are usually closed. He must have learned these lessons already.

{taste}
Rich, cold chocolate ice cream. What more could a girl want. My memory chooses to believe it was Haagen Daz right from the carton.

{smell}
A candle burns and the slight scent of sandlewood fills the air. I bend down to kiss Traveler's nose and smell his doggy breath that still has the faint odor of his dinner.

{hear}
A driver revs a car engine and peels out at the stop sign. The refrigerator hums. The heater kicks on. Traveler sighs, yawns, sighs again. Drama abounds through the language, words, feelings that sound through the television speakers. Toward the end of the movie, I hear my own breath as tears fall and I cry.

{feel}
Trav's soft fur as I stroke his head with my fingertips. The cold ice cream as I indulge. The soft cotton of my orange and red striped pajama pants. As I watch the last few moments of the movie, my heart seems to pause for a moment. Will I ever find this love? Even crappy, over-dramatized movie kind of love. Will anyone ever look at me and want to stop the world just to be with me? Will I always be alone? I begin to cry. Traveler moves his head to my hand and I feel the warmth of his breath. My tears stop. I feel my heart begin to beat again. I have enough. I am enough. I hear my own voice say out loud, "If it is just you and me Traveler, it will be okay."

{and know}
It is only when you let go of controlling the dream that you can be quiet enough to see it when it crosses your path. (Three weeks later my husband and I went on our first date.)

This post is dedicated to my first golden child Traveler. A year ago today, Jon and I had to let Trav go. I miss him but know I am blessed that he gave me such gifts.

a phrase

a phrase has walked across my heart this evening

a reminder
from the past
a hint
of the truth
a whisper
from the universe
a song
for the present
a vibration
of sounds and certainties
a need
from the soul
a wish
for the future

a simple phrase
you are not alone