November 29, 2010
This morning I composted the last of the dessert. Well, the second to last. There is still an entire flan to eat. Anyone? Seriously.
I was so excited for Thanksgiving because I was going to “let” myself eat whatever I wanted. And there was going to be so much to want, at the ready, easy as pie. I was a dam ready to burst. Enough of this bullshit healthy eating, I want “real” food! But now, four increased blood pressure days later, I remember why I “choose” to eat healthy. My allergy to wheat and dairy causes wild mood swings, melancholy, and crying jags. I become more emotional, in a puffy, throw yourself on the bed and weep kinda way. Thanksgiving was a reminder that those foods, that look, smell, and taste sooo good, don’t make me feel good. Feeling good trumps tasting good. Ahh, into the compost last piece of blueberry pie and three slices of gingerbread cake. You were stale anyway.
November 26, 2010
November 26, 2010
Thirty of our nearests and dearests were invited to indulge at Sarah and Natalie’s house for Thanksgiving. There was enough food to feed three times that many, food that I don’t normally eat- meat, wheat, dairy, and sugar. So much sugar. Last night at 3am my blood pressure was off the charts, I had a headache a mile long, was nauseous and almost fainted. This morning I am hungover… from everything. My voice is gone, my body aches, I have a stiff neck. From what I can remember, I think it was totally worth it.
November 24, 2010
Yesterday I was late picking Luke up for a hike on Powell Butte. He got in the car and was really annoyed. As we drove we spoke with voices raised and teeth bared, both of us feeling the other one was out of line. Rawrr! Arg! Ugh! I regretted wearing wool tights under my wool pants. I regretted putting on five wool sweaters because I was now hot! Frustrated! And wondering if we would enjoy the next couple of hours.
We did. Because we continued to talk, with voices that began to level and intentions that shifted from proving innocence and guilt, to the greater goal, which is to understand and improve our relationship. We do this a lot. In a nutshell, I am callous and he is sensitive. I need to soften (more and more and more) and he needs to harden (my opinion). I need to consider him, without him asking me to. But he does need to ask when it is important.
We hiked. We laughed. We almost got busted for having Bello off leash but instead, after hanging out with the ranger for a while, I arranged to work with him this spring counting birds and collecting native seeds. We hiked on. It was beautiful and crisp and Bello rolled in the snow. We picked a great route and chatted effortlessly, joyously. And the morning faded away and the afternoon presented itself without a trace of leftover heat. Literally. Warm bath as the night temperatures dipped into the teens.
November 22, 2010
Sunday started in the yard. I pulled the last of the zinnias and turned under the soil. Cover crop, fresh hay, hot tea, wool sweater.
Luke and I hiked in the afternoon, as is our custom. 40 degrees and a little snow. I was not properly dressed and began to tremble from the cold. My pants soaked through so I took them off in the car and gently rubbed my pink thighs while the heater blasted.
Soup in the evening. Carrot and red pepper. Oh, the stock is just starting to boil. The kitchen doors are closed to keep in the heat from the oven. NPR. Bello is curled up on my puffy vest.
November 21, 2010
November 19, 2010
Nathan Oliveira, superb printmaker, painter, sculptor and fellow CCA alumni died on November 13th. He has long been a source of inspiration to the creatives in my family, especially my mother who learned manners at the table of the Bay Area Figuratives. Oliveira, Richard Diebenkorn, David Park, Elmer Bischoff, Joan Brown, and Manuel Neri all play heavy sculptural roles in her art and process. I see their influence in my work as well. I too approach art by way of the body. I too am guided by emotion. I am contain, directed, satisfied by the confines of the human experience. The form, weighty and strong, is the animal on which I ride.
November 18, 2010
November 18, 2010
November 10, 2010
I lived in San Fran for one summer. I moved there after Josh and I broke up but it ultimately proved to be too close to him and our former life together. That summer is a blur- and thankfully so because I was unhappy and desperate. I remember eating chocolate and cheese and taking pictures with Josh Thayer, my only friend in the city. I didn’t think I had any evidence of that time but I found a hidden folder today. Blond, beer drinking, rooftop hanging, jeans and a t-shirt SF girl.
November 10, 2010
Ooff. I have the flu. I’ve slept for two days. Bello sleeps too, under the covers warming my feet.
November 8, 2010
It is Monday. And maybe it was Monday when I last felt bad and wrote about it. This day is hard for me. It sneaks up, unannounced after a weekend of relaxation, with demands and expectations. And I am unprepared. I don’t know what I need to do to make this day feel right. I am not in the work groove yet but a Monday doesn’t care. It wants action. It wants tasks checked off the list. Productivity! You’re a businesswoman for God’s sake! What are you doing writing a blog post when you should be… doing something really important.
November 8, 2010
Last night I went to dinner at my friend Penelope’s. It was an adult affair. She lives in a beautiful corner house with her husband and their delightful smiley baby Bell. Penelope owns the five n’ dime Little Edies and Nathen is an electrician. Suniti, my favirite yoga teacher of all time, came with her husband David who is a dancer and painter. Michelle, who owns People’s Yoga, was there with her boyfriend Dana who plays drums in Luke’s band AU. And then there was Sarah, Luke and me. We sat at a long table and talked religion, family, politics and the recent election, we talked parenting, health, the rise of the machine and dating in the modern age. We finished three bottles of wine and a whole chicken.
November 4, 2010
Melancholy. First thing in the morning. I open my eyes, I lie there, I turn toward the window, I stare at the ceiling. Deep sighs. Compressed heart.
Luke doubts I am a romantic. His experience has not won me that title. And yet, it is there, that side, that wistfulness and fragility. I am that sad color today. And yesterday. And the day before. Even though the sun is shining and I went hiking. Even though the cause is elusive. Blue.
November 3, 2010
Today. I feel incompetent. Foolish. Behind. Anxious. Scared, maybe just Nervous. I feel mean. Cold. Angry. Biting. Today I do not like myself. My stupid boots. Shaggy pants. Limp hair. Taut mouth. Today my heart is in my stomach. And I didn’t poop. And my voice is weak. And I both yelled and cried on the street. Over nothing much actually. Just a little stress and a kink in the plan. How easily I was overcome. I didn’t put up a fight. Allowed the day to pass without joy. This poor Tuesday.
I prefer hard days to be well earned.