March 31, 2013


Yesterday was a real summer day. Hot. And the flies were everywhere. I wore shorts, which says more about the heat than anything on this earth.
Ooh, a hot sunny day, this is a good thing right? Yes! Of course. And no. Because it’s still something new and new experiences are always harder than old ones. “The seasons are shifting and even positive ones throw children off balance.” Children of all ages.
I didn’t leave the house yesterday. I was intimidated by the newness. I shuffled around the yard and felt unsettled. In all truth I simply haven’t developed my hot summer day routine. Time was happening, passing, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t doing it right. But there was no time or perspective to figure out the right sunny day behavior because it was already here. I hadn’t planned for such a day and one can’t plan for the now. No matter what I did I couldn’t be sure there wouldn’t have been a better thing to do if I had just had a moment ahead of time to decide. I’m odd.
Because really, even bad ideas are still kinda good because they exist and create an experience. Sheila, Kenya’s sheep, lies in the direct sun wearing a foot deep sweater. I shuffle around the yard. Neither of us hit a grand slam but we got on base.


March 30, 2013


Remember when I used to process with you? I miss it too.

I have entered into a masculine tide. I know how dudes feel when their lady asks them what they’re thinking and the answer is nothing. The answer is nothing even knowing this word causes shoulders to drop with disappointment and loneliness. Sometimes there really isn’t anything to say.

There is no spare energy to wring one’s hands and look to the sky for direction. I might hurt myself. Because right now I am moving- to Santa Cruz in a month but also around the yard and the house and the city- preparing! Change is here. It is a force, an engine, a result of effort- physical and painful and achy at night. The evidence of my effort surrounds me and is satisfying to the point of satiation. I am content to do, all day, and sleep soundly with my little cat laid out on the pillow by my head. We rise at seven, throwing back the covers without even a sigh. No time to need, it’s time to give.

Don’t Fuss

March 20, 2013


I am in one of those situations where the things I want to talk about involve people that you know. On my mind are names that you would recognize. Dear people, desired people, characters that have meaning.

Today I put on the hat I will wear in Santa Cruz and walked to the store. But this is Portland and so it turned from sunny to dark and released a torrent of hail upon my thin sweater and bare ankles and colorful cotton brim. I flattened against the trunk of a tree and waited. When it cleared and I went on my way I noticed that my tree was the only bared limbed one in the park.

When I got home I changed for the fourth time. Off came the high-waisted pieced jeans, on came the low slung Prison Blues with permanent grass-stained knees and utility pockets. I planted a tree, an apple baby over which I cooed and fussed.

Ok, this is really happening. If you would like to be a solo host for a Friends of Filly gathering, please email me and we will make that happen!

What are you talking about?

-You pick a month to host.
-At the beginning of the month I will send you two big boxes of Filly clothes, mostly past pieces that are not even featured on the store!
-You host an intimate gathering in your home. What this looks like is up to you. What I imagine is making a FB post, inviting all your friends and friends of friends, telling me the details so that I can make a post about the event, making a little food or getting a bottle of wine, setting out mirrors and trying on clothes!
-You will get to keep a Filly item in exchange for hosting.
-Keep track and send me a list of what sold so I know what to replace.
-I will include return postage so you just need to drop at Fedex by the 3rd week to give me time to restock before sending it out again.
-Women that sell the most will have first dibs on being a returning host next year as well as first pick of the month. AND I would really like to feature you on the blog and talk about what projects you are working on.
-Take photos! I will post on the Filly FB page.

What Are You Reading?

March 18, 2013


Sometimes we make choices without a thought as to how it will all add up. Sometimes we have no idea that they add up at all. But they do. There is a story about you.

Until recently my story felt more like a book- long, involving multiple characters, a mix of places, a linear trudge. Now it’s a short read, with a dream sequence.

I am on the verge of moving to Santa Cruz. Yes part time. But I’m taking my bed.


March 16, 2013


As I write the setting sun is shining, like a hot set light, on the blackened rain cloud hugging the eastern skyline. It’s too much, like a commercial.
It is evening and I am in from the yard. I stripped off muddy denim work pants and a navy hoodie in the kitchen before climbing the stairs. I am reading the Beet Queen and it sits, green and unfashionably small, in my bedroom nook. While the veggies steam I read. Broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and green cabbage. They are so good with a touch of olive oil, salt and avocado. I eat with a pair of chopsticks. And a sausage.
Today I made progress. With the over sized cement chunks, with fence prep, with my neighbor in the back who has always disapproved of my ways. He and I talked in the alley. We swapped stories and only offended each other a couple of times.
I have a month and half before I travel to Santa Cruz. Forty five days to batten down the hatches, my adventure will keep me away for five months.


March 11, 2013


Sleepy spring time change.

Not Much

March 6, 2013


I bet you are ready for that creepy dream post to be pushed off the top slot. I might be the only one who likes that story. My dad wasn’t entirely sure it was a dream I was describing, which is illogical and therefore very unlike him. I took it as a compliment.

Unfortunately these days continue to be filled with stories no one wants to hear. Stories of roommates and finances and fences and students and Slacks going missing and being found. These days are mine alone, simply because they are too unremarkable to share.

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