That Time With Slacks

April 29, 2013

My fucking cat is dead. I’m fucking angry!!! There was so much left to do.

This feels so different from eight months ago when Bello died. Bello lived a full life and there was nothing unfair or inappropriate about his passing. And so my feelings were ones of deep sadness an all encompassing sense of longing and loneliness. But Slacks was just beginning- WE were just beginning. We had an entire life laid out before us with fresh bones and fur and little white teeth. Youth is immune to age. It felt he would never get old, never be at the end and I loved this about him.
But he was also Slacks and he was a worry on my heart from the beginning. He went- always out, forward, toward the new. He was without hesitation. Utterly fearless. Never, not even once, promising to be mine.

There was that time…
…when he was with the teenage girls in the group home after he climbed a tree outside their bedroom window and begged for admittance. They intended to secretly keep him until he playfully hooked and removed a chunk of weave, which he still had tangled around his paw when I picked him up.
…when he was with the overnight security guard at the Dilation Clinic and lived in a parking lot for three nights.
…when he was picked up in the morning by an office worker and taken to the top floor offices of an energy company. When I came to get him I checked in at the front desk by saying I’m here for Slacks after which he was paged!
…when he partied with the dudes across the street and came home smelling like beer and cigs and slept for 18 hours straight.
…when he was carried across Martin Luther King Boulevard by two kindergarteners and lived behind the post office for two days.
…when he joined an upper class family for abalone steaks in their backyard and the kids cried when I came to pick him up.
…when he took to sleeping in the small worn cheetah print dog bed on a neighbor’s back porch and eating the crusty ant infested stray cat food they left out when I was consistently offering rich kitten food that cost its weight in gold.
…when he followed a couple home, at least 3 miles, to an entirely different neighborhood, and lived with her a couple of days before she decided to call me. She almost didn’t call me.
…when I rode past a house and saw a dad on the porch with his kids in a stroller. He was swinging a cat down between his legs, swooping past the kids faces, and up into the air while singing “It’s the kitty, It’s the kitty”. This was not the first time Slacks had played swing set with this family.
…when I was called to the home of a neighbor a handful of blocks away and arrived to see a sullen pre-teen girl playing a romantic fantasy game in which Slacks was her princely suitor. As I approached they both quickly turned their heads and pretended that never happened.
…when he was just gone, for a long time, and I never knew where he had been. And right as I couldn’t take the worry any longer, he would saunter up and throw himself down with snort as if I had no right to place expectations on him. He would live his own life, beholden to no one, loving everyone, taking life like blacktop on an open road- all speed with no obstacles. In the end life was an obstacle that he zoomed right past, out, forward, toward the new.

Dust to Dusk to Dark

April 27, 2013

Slacks died.
He was found on the neighbor’s porch this morning, seemingly asleep but cold and stiff. He now lays buried in the yard within a ring of rocks the shape of his frame.
He was never mine. But I was his.


Sad Sack

April 22, 2013


I’m all stressed out, in a suppressed kind of way. Uncomfortable in my body, seeking escape via nuts and weed, working in the yard and hiking and practicing yoga and still feeling bottled up and heavy. Like a sack, I lug myself around throughout the day.
And again, that familiar question arises, where is joy? I tell my sister to look around at how beautiful the earth is. I tell my Filly friend to exhale nice and slow and deep. This is how to access peace… and yet I sit here, with a slight stomach ache and at a loss. Tension throughout.
Oh Lord, deliver me from my poor excuse for depression.


Who lives in the greater Northwest and wants to host a Parachute Party in May?
Portlanders, feel free to participate!
Email me and we’ll set it up (even if you have already contacted me in the past, do it again now)


April 17, 2013


My god. I’m in love. I’m so glad Ann and Josh made her.


I went to bed at 9:30 last night. And that was only after an impromptu neighborhood walk kept me up an extra hour. Josh and Ann had a daughter. I fell asleep with their baby on my mind.
Around 1am Sarah called my name from downstairs… “Em, there are airbnb renters for the cabin here?”
To describe myself as bleary-eyed doesn’t do justice to my bra-less, creased face, still half-way damp crazy pressed-flat-on-one-side hair and slurred speech self. “There’s been a mistake, I stumbled and opened my computer to show them that there was still a lady in there…” only to realize that I had a lost a day sometime between now and Wednesday and that these people were rightful occupants of a not-ready cabin.
I want something special to snack on.
I have plans with a new friend to ride down to the PSU Farmer’s Market. I love the market and her companionship but because it’s a plan I don’t want to go.
White morning light, a jar of gas-relief tea, a pile of Goodwill donations, Sarah’s waking footsteps above my head.
I recently met a man on the bus to Seattle. He is an O’Connell, so of course he has red hair. He is kind and smart and lives in New York so our texts are made titillating simply by the middle of the night timing. We have been writing to each other about joy. Doing for others brings him joy. Doing exactly what I want brings it to me. He is a provider, I am a creator. And that is how babies are made.

Found Fleece

April 12, 2013

I am on day five of organizing my Filly backstock. I feel sorry for my housemates because I’m a tad bit irritable at this point. Too much time inside and alone does not stimulate my mind in the right way. Instead I begin to closely analyze why I now crave nuts instead of sugar. Is this an adult thing? I guess, now that I think even more about it, I remember my Dad likes both nutty and sweet treats. Anyway. Jesus.
The real reason I am writing is that I found a box of fleece pieces from way back in the early days. Back when I took the seasons extremely seriously. For my second collection, Fall 2006, I designed an entire line of fleece dresses, tunics and skirts. They were lined with jersey with a 1/4-twist bubble hem. The fleece is Patagonia quality, and in fact is from the same mill that provides the venerable company with their outerwear fabric. I can’t say that love for the fleece was universal and overwhelming but there were some devoted followers. If you need one last fleece piece before there are truly no more- send me an email @

In the box I see…
-1. T-neck tank tunic length dress. Eggplant(1), Pumpkin(1) and Lichen(1). Size XS
2. -Ankle-length skirt with swooping black canvas “hem” that swoops up onto the hip, with large patch pocket. Pumpkin(2). Size S. SOLD OUT!
3. -Mini Skirt. Black(1) or Pumpkin(1). Size S. SOLD OUT!
4. -Midi length skirt with simple half circle of cream canvas at hem. Black(2). Size S.

They are all $55 each except the mini which is $35. Let me know if you want any…
fleece leftovers

Parachute into April

April 11, 2013

Parachute Package Image copy

Fall into a home, a hug, a handful of wonderful like-minded souls. Take a chance and stop in at one of the Parachute Parties happening this month!

Annie’s House
1601 E. Street
Bellingham, WA

Kat’s House
6708 Division Ave. NW
Seattle, WA
(this is also a homemade canned goods exchange! Bring what you got, take home what ya did not)

Emily’s House
1818 East Fir Street
Seatle, WA
6pm- 9pm

Let me know if you want to host! You will receive two BIG BOXES of Filly clothes, invite your friends, try it all on, keep a Filly piece for your efforts. You will have a week between getting the boxes and sending them on their way. Simply drop the boxes off at FEDEX. I pay for shipping. Currently I am looking for hosts on the West Coast. In July I will be looking at the East Coast. Sign up by emailing me at

Totally Last Minute

April 3, 2013


Time is speeding up. The landscape passes more and more quickly, blurring and bleeding until the painting is one giant smudge of lavender brown.
Through the muck I can barely make out my calender. One month. And each weekend has a FOF Parachute Package party outside of Portland… leaving this coming weekend as the only available slot before the month is up and I am on my way. Yikes! I intended to host a gathering before I left.

Here goes nothin:

FOF Portland for Spring 2013
April 6th
Emily’s House
5335 NE Mallory Avenue
Portland, OR 97211
Saturday 4pm – 7pm
Booze and Clothes
Slacks the cat
Music and the sweet sweat of women

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