FOF, the beat goes on

August 31, 2012

I sent out this email. I’m sending it to you too.

“Hi everyone. As many of you already know, my precious dog Bello died last week. He was twelve and passed suddenly, but seemingly peacefully. By all accounts his life was full and long. But I am still sad. And so I have come to Santa Cruz, to cry and swim and eat figs. I’m feeling a little better each day.
I am also in Santa Cruz to oversee production of the Filly Foundation Collection- a permanent collection of your all time favorites. Pretty exciting. And of course I can’t come into town without bringing enough backstock for a Friends of Filly gathering. It is not as much as you are used to… my mind was elsewhere when I packed for this trip. But there is enough. And so lets gather. And celebrate relationships.

FOF #1 – Santa Cruz
Jessie Hess’ House
Sunday, September 2nd 12-3pm
3040 Santa Fe Court
Santa Cruz

FOF #2 – San Francisco
Kate Lorch’s House
We were thinking of doing a clothing swap and trunk show with a potluck (if you care. if not, don’t stress it)
One room will be Filly stuff for sale, and the other will be clothes to trade from our own closets.
Friday, September 7th 6:30- 9:30pm
800 Duboce Ave apt 301
Cross Street Divisidero
Ring to get buzzed up
San Francisco

FOF #3 – Berkeley
Lee’s House
1115 Arch Street
Sunday, September 9th 12-3pm

FOF #4 – Santa Cruz
Sunday, September 16th 4-7pm
Allison’s House
129 Miles Street
Santa Cruz

FOF #5 – Santa Cruz
Sunday, September 23rd 12-3pm
301 Berkeley Way
Santa Cruz

October will see additional FOF in the Northwest (Bellingham, Seattle, Portland)

Much love,

Ten Days

August 31, 2012


Every night I sit on the bed with my journal and before I have time to think about it, I draw a picture of Bello. At first he was literally inside my body, like a Koala Bear backpack worn on the front, his head facing out. I loved the image and clung to the comfort it provided. He wasn’t gone, he was even closer. As days went by I began to draw just his head, like in the image above. And eventually us side by side. Lately I have been drawing him with Soupy. I am not in the picture.

What a spot. On the days that I feel better in my heart, I feel worse in my mind. I am sickened that I am moving on. And he is not.

I wonder if he is feeling that same thing.


Fold In

August 25, 2012

I have traveled south, to my own little town. I walk on fallen leaves from Bay Laurel and Live Oak trees. They smell like home. I pick them up and slip them in my bra. I look for signs from Bello. I stop and let the wave of tears bear down upon me. Everything tightens and then releases. I walk on.


August 24, 2012

Thank you for your support. I have received a steady stream of visitors, cards, calls, texts, notes, emails, food, flowers, tonics, remedies and healing touch. I have not been alone, except to sleep, for three days. What an amazing gift. In case you were wondering, Bello now lives in my chest, tucked up under my ribs, warm and safe. He has felt your love pouring in.
I’m in a new city for a bit of time to create space between what was and what will be. I sit in a dog park reading a dog-themed weekly. There is happiness all around me.

Bello Died

August 22, 2012

Bello died yesterday.


August 20, 2012

I fell down the stairs yesterday. I really did, just like in a movie. I stumbled in my old brown suede oxfords that I wear loose without laces and I couldn’t see the next step due to the pile of linens and a down comforter stacked in my arms. With eyes wide open I feel forward, twisting to the left and landing on my right ribs and right shin and then sliding, roughly, to the base of the stairs with my legs in the air. In a dress. Which is one of the reasons I jumped right up and smoothed out my skirt. I immediately picked up the stack of linens and announced to Sarah that I was totally ok. But I had a scary sickly smile on my face and my eyes were glassy and huge and so she ordered me to sit down and take stock.
Arnica is magical. I took it orally and applied it topically and iced and rested. In the evening I walked slowly to the neighbor’s house where the beloved fig tree lives. He is a naturopathic doctor and generously offered me a high potency dose of Arnica and checked for cracked ribs. Everything is in one piece.
I am happy to report that today I feel 75% better. No bruising and noticeably less soreness. But seriously, what the fuck? Falling down the stairs? That’s not cool. And the weird thing is that shortly after it happened I was closing the door to the basement and the mop, with its ropey hair and long skinny body, tipped over and slid, bouncing dramatically, to the bottom of the basement stairs where it landed with a symbolic slump. I watched with paralyzed horror. Ok… house spirit, have I done something to annoy you? Can we kiss and make up?

Hottest Day of the Year

August 16, 2012

I’m too hot to write. It is 11:30pm and at least 80 outside, 85 where I sit at the kitchen table.
I spent the day in a hammock underneath another hammock occupied by Kenya. Oh god, I’m too hot to write well.
We were happy. I’m less happy now. I would like to go to bed but it’s too hot. I’m hot.

The Way

August 12, 2012

Oh where to start. I am behind on my documentation. The summer distracts me and keeps me from the computer. But more than that, I am just not very dramatic at the moment. My insides are very calm. My mind is quiet. I am simple and enjoying my life, my blessed life full of many homes and rich memories and dear attachments and fresh starts. Right now the fresh start slot is filled with three soft little faces. I recently (yesterday? can that be possible?) returned from Missoula where my sister and her family live. My mom and I surprised her again and once again she was utterly speechless. I’m amazed when my sister fails to read my mind. I’m serious.
So I went, I rode a tandem bicycle with my mom perched on the back, I ate a lot of peanut butter cups, I was a maid in a precious ceremony, I fixed dinner elbow to elbow with my sister, I felt patient and peaceful and satisfied. And before I knew it the week was over and I was hugging the girls goodbye, I was collecting my heart which had lodged so contentedly in the brown skinned body of my sister, I was flying, an hour, a half hour, and down, back to Portland. It’s unnerving to feel so good in the company of children. I can still hear their voices. It is haunting in a pleasant way.
So I lied, I don’t feel simple. I feel conflicted- no, I feel like a ghost. My body is here but my soul is still in Missoula hoping to feel a little hand on my arm, loving those girls more than I knew I was capable of.


August 1, 2012

My sister wrote a beautiful post on love. Of course I adore this particular post even though everything she writes is good. I love love. I love love so much that I let love go in order to mourn love and seek love anew. Sometimes I wonder if I have tempted fate with this behavior. What if fate is angry at me and now longer feels generous? What if I am left to sit in the park with Bello, whom I enjoy, instead of a lover, whom I cherish?
But of course that is no way to think. Because destiny is constantly shifting according to your desires and the direction in which you look. I am looking forward. I am laying back, with my arms bent at the elbows and flat on the ground, my feet are pressed together, my knees wide. I am receptive, I am full of the best. And the best will come to me. The life you want is the life you live. Want it all.

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