We’ve become a bit obsessed with Chai lately. Especially this Chai. Add a little honey, a little cream, and what’s not to love?
It’s keeping us toasty in this constant rain. One of us insists on sipping their warm Chai through a Mickey Mouse straw. Of course, I’ll never tell.
What’s getting you through the winter?
Well, it’s Saturday again. I’m determined to not be lounging around in my pjs at 2:30. Oh, who are we kidding? I’ll still be in my pjs but hopefully I’ll be well on my way to doing something with this fabric.
Yes, yes, I’ve taken a step up in the fabric department. This isn’t $2 bargain barn fabric. In fact, I didn’t even buy it at JoAnn’s. I ventured into one of the lovely quilting stores in town and found this fabric. The woman behind the counter and I spent a few minutes talking shop. I told her about my obsession with these fabrics, but how I wasn’t quite ready to invest in fabric that I’m too intimidated to cut. I told her how I actually weep, weep I tell you, just thinking about this fabric. We agreed that maybe it was best to work my way there. I told her that the very thought of Liberty prints made me weak in the knees and that viewing them had ruined me for other fabric—so great is the beauty of Liberty of London. Poor woman, I’m sure she thought I was insane.
She’d be right.
Anyhow, I then trotted off to buy a bottle of my BFF Ms. Clairol at the Rite-Aid. Once again, I’ve left my roots to rot upon my head and I’m looking a little, uh, gray. I’d show you a picture, but we’ve established already that I don’t document my faults for the world to see. Which is also why you’ll never get an “ass” shot of me. Uh, where was I?
Oh yeah, so the guy behind the counter.
Him: Well hello, Young Lady, how are you?
Me: I’m great! How are you?
Let me just say here, that while some people might get offended with this sort of familiarity—I’m just vain enough to find it endearing. Seriously. I love it. Here’s why.
Him: Oh, I’m doing just fine for an Old Codger.
See. Priceless. Because you see, he’s not all that old. Not really. And I’m not all that young. But we both play along. He called the very elderly lady in front of me, “Sweetheart” and she just beamed. I’m beaming thinking about it. I’m a sucker for words like sweetheart and codger.
Anyhow, this self-proclaimed codger is no fool. When I couldn’t work all the advanced buttons for the debit card machine he said, “So, that Master’s degree is working out for you.” Ha ha ha ha. Snort. Made my day. I live for these exchanges, because in truth, most people are really lovely. Funny, generous, and wonderful. Inspiring.
I brought home my new fabric and bottle of ego booster. When I draped the fabric over a door, I couldn’t help but notice it. Do you see it? Orange and black and funky shaped flowers. I’m finding them everywhere.
I made this card a few weeks back when Boy Wonder was making his masterpiece. I’ve yet to mail it to its intended recipient. . . instead, it’s propped on top of my singing bowl in the dining room. . . . inspiring my Saturday.
I hope whatever you find yourself doing this Saturday, you’re inspired by the beauty of the people who surround you. And the tiny bits of connectivity to be found in every exchange.
It’s February people. Oh yes it is. And I have to tell you, with the White Stripes blaring in my ears, I couldn’t be happier. Love, love, amore. Baby let me tell you, February is my kind of month.
Not that January was bad.
Well it would’ve been, could’ve been worse than you would ever know. There was something about January that had me losing the feeling of feeling unique. Do you know what I mean? And now you’re wondering just how many song lyrics I can work into this post. I have me wondering too. Let’s find out.
So, February. It’s one of those months where you just float on. It doesn’t matter what happens or doesn’t happen, it just seems serene. Or, to me anyhow. I suspect some of you feel about February the way I feel about August. Oh, poor wretched August, does anyone really love you?
I’m looking forward to this month. I feel like I’ve finally gained a sense of footing with January. Back to the self I know, back on ground that feels stable. More words than I can possibly process and lots of laughter along the way. I’m seeing the world through my crooked lens, and do you know what I see? I see beauty all around me.
It’s a better self, this self I bring to February. Writing nearly every day in January pushed me to work past the heaviness December brought. At the beginning, I wasn’t so sure. Sometimes, though, digging deeper just to throw it away is the only way.
I really thought I’d never touch the other side. But now that I am here, I realize. . . it was worth it. I am more determined to love this world. For all its pitfalls. I am more determined to see the beauty around me. And I am more determined to share it all with you.
So, let’s review: Panic at the Disco!, Muse, Linkin Park, White Stripes, Modest Mouse. Yeah, that just about sums up the month. Although it’s possible I listen to too much KROQ, but other than that, it’s all good. Seriously.
I hesitate to write about this directly. For starters, I’m Ms. Indirect. I’d much rather talk around a subject than be pinned down on it. I change my mind too often to ever be concrete. But when I take some time to think about it, my heart seizes. For some reason I have this deep seated fear that I could offend some of you. In truth, I’m completely selling my readership short! I know that when I read people of different points-of-view, I don’t judge them. I don’t peer into their world looking for ground I can object to. . . instead, I read your words and seek our common ground. And I am overwhelmed on a daily basis on how much we all have in common. If we choose to see it.
I doubt it escapes any of you that I am a person of faith. I’m not specific in my language opting instead to use inclusive language when I speak of the divine. We’re all seekers after all. There is space for all of you here. Even if we approach our lives differently, we do so with our whole selves—so, no matter how I identify with the divine, there is room here for how you identify with divine.
So, please read these following words as my experience only. I am keenly aware that your experiences will most likely not be mine. And my sharing here is only to express one simple truth: words sustain. Anything more than that is what you bring to it.
Mary asked that my next post be CHEERFUL and SHALLOW, and you know I’d be only too happy to oblige if I could. Clearly, churning water and my angst wasn’t doing the job. Perhaps a photo of my supermodel dog will do the trick? What’s not cheerful about a dog in a pink shirt?
You might not want to read further.
You can see from this photo her eyes are leaving us. Lest any one think I’m being “Cheerful and Shallow” about that, I’m not. I’ve just accepted that she will probably go blind, sooner than later. She doesn’t seem to care or to be in any pain—the only deficit we notice is her constant growling at her own shadow on our midnight strolls. Other than that, she’s adapting to “seeing” the world with her nose. Trust me, she has NO problem in that department. This dog can smell a “TREAT” in a deep sleep.
However, while I’m still floundering around with eye drops several times a day, she’s become far more adept at passive resistance. Instead of avoiding me, she now comes when called. Only, as she jumps onto the couch to sit she purposefully faces away from me. You can make me come, but you can’t make me like it. It’s the canine version of “Talk to the hand.” Heh. Clever dog. Of course, this means I have to wrangle her to face me, and she uses the moment to clamp her eyelids firmly shut.
They tried to give me medication, I said, “No, no, no.”
So, there I am, one hand on her snout, the other hand trying to pry open her eye all the while, I’m sitting there wondering exactly what hand I’m supposed to use for the eye drops. She’s smart, I’ll give you that. I’m smarter, tho. Eventually, I call in reinforcements; her beloved IZ gets involved.
Does that mean I’m any less reviled by this dog, now that I have a co-conspirator? Uh, no.
What can you do? I mean well but from this dog’s perspective I’m a walking torture device. She decided before she ever entered our home that she adored IZ best. He can do no wrong. Nothing he does will change her love for him—or her perspective that I’m the anti-christ of eye-drops.
Of course, it probably doesn’t help that I dress her in pink polo shirts either.
Photo credit: IZ
I’ll mend myself before it gets me. ~Seether
I’ve been thinking a lot about words today. About the power they hold in my life—how deeply attracted I am to language, how much I rely on it, how easily it is to misuse or misunderstand the words we hear or see or feel. Because I do think we feel them, acutely sometimes. Who hasn’t found themselves moved to tears by the hurtful words from a loved one? Or laughing hysterically at the verbal antics of a friend? We’ve all stashed words of love deep into our pockets, savoring them, turning them over and over in the palms of our psyches—worry stones for all that ails us.
Some words take up residence in our souls, refusing to leave. We can only hope these words are good tenants. That they nourish us or inspire us or at least comfort us when we face a bitter kind of cold that isn’t easily chased away.
As a storyteller, I rely on more than just words to make myself heard. I rely on your imagination to color in the outlines. And some days, I’m loath to find the words I need to draw my lines thick enough for you to see. On those days, it all feels muddled. While I have no control over reader-response, I can usually see where I failed to make myself clear. Even if I can’t see how to fix it.
Wordless. It’s not a condition I relish. I’m still waiting for a magic pill. Still waiting for someone to shoot me up with just the right serum. We all want a panacea.
Looking for a muse, always looking for a way around this wordlessness. Churned up, pointless, finding no better way to say. . . I got nothing.
Life in a ridiculously yellow house. . .
. . . is always full of laughter, even when the sun refuses to shine.
(ps, I think you both might be getting too old for these shenanigans!)
Look at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And all the things that you do. ~Coldplay
Photo Credit: Geiodo
All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. ~Pablo Picasso
Last year I did away with using commercial laundry detergent that is so harmful for the environment and switched to an eco friendly product. No more liquid fabric softeners either—not that I’ve ever been a big fan of them since most of them smell like baby vomit to me. I know, it’s probably just me.
However, living in Astoria means dealing with our horrible water. Laundry washed in it, no matter what kind of soap I use, still ends up smelling funky. It’s a bit depressing to step fresh from a shower into a funky towel. To combat the issue, I found myself relying more and more on fabric sheets. Bad, bad, bad for the environment. Not so great for masking the smell, either.
So, last year I went hunting for solutions. Many of you make your own laundry detergent using this recipe. Looks great on paper, but you can’t use it effectively in a front loading washers on a cold water setting. So, I opted to add the oxyclean to my load and use a liquid eco friendly detergent and call it quits. Sure, the detergent is way more expensive than Costco’s mega bottle of Tide Ultra, but since the year before we opted to start making our own coffees in house—I could squeeze it.
There is no doubt that when shopping for laundry detergent, my first instinct is to ask: how does it smell? Foolishly, perhaps, believing that smell has something to do with efficacy; never mind the chemicals involved. That instinct is quickly followed by: how much does it cost? And now we get down to it. Laundry is a reality in all of our households and the expense can eat away more of a grocery bill than most of us want to allot. Saving the environment is a worthy cause—but it often comes third or fourth to feeding a family.
I’m no longer in a position to be rationing pennies. No longer do I walk into a store and buy the cheapest item I can find in attempt to work miracles on a thin budget. What a blessing! Instead, I buy items I like using, or support my ethical perspectives, or are a good buy. However, this was not always the case. I can remember right after 9/11 when IZ had NO job, we were bleeding $2k a month in bills, and I was working 40 hours in a bookstore attempting to feed us. The store was in a wealthy part of the Bay Area and our patrons had expendable income to purchase books. Let’s face it, if you can afford to not rely on the public library, life isn’t treating you too poorly.
It was a chatty bookstore and a couple came in and we fell into conversation about supporting independent bookstores. Which, naturally, led to a conversation about the evil that is Walmart and its ilk. Now, the wife of this couple had no idea who she was talking to. Her husband seemed more aware that there was probably a significant difference between their income and my income. So, when this woman ended her rant about how she didn’t understand the patronage of big boxes like Walmart or Target or even Safeway, I couldn’t help but offer this.
“I wish I could afford to buy all my groceries at Trader Joe’s or to buy my clothes someplace other than a chain store. But the truth of the matter is, most of the people who shop at those places are not in a position to choose. I would warrant that most of them would like to walk into swanky Whole Foods too.” Her husband looked at me and with a great deal of compassion said, “We weren’t always in that position either. It takes time. It doesn’t happen overnight.”
This is the bottom of the truth of it, right? Some of us cannot afford to make sweeping changes to support only organic, independent, locally owned products. Not in entirety. To do so would push our budgets beyond their ability to feed our children. When a choice based in cost is a choice about the quality of food we put in our bodies vs. the costs to the environment—it’s a no brainer. It’s not a choice. I’m going to choose good veggies and good protein for my kid’s growing brain. The environment will have to wait. It may be the obvious choice, but that doesn’t mean it sits well with me.
Our budget has not increased overnight. We still go weeks, months sometimes without being paid. So, in order to address this impulse to feed my family AND save the environment, I’ve chosen to focus on ONE thing each year. As our budget has increased, so has our ability to add more tiny changes to our way of living. Last year it was detergent.
Imagine my glee to discover this bottle of eco friendly detergent at Costco. It’s not only good for the environment, but it’s competitively priced with the other name brands you can buy in bulk. Since it comes in a great family sized bottle, this means fewer trips to the grocery store to buy overpriced eco-friendly detergent. Sometimes, you don’t have to choose! Win, win!
Happy, happy me! I walked around Costco yesterday completely amazed. It felt like a reward, really. That after a year of making this tiny choice, the Universe had responded in kind. I kept saying, “IZ, you don’t know how happy this makes me!”
Life is not all or nothing. We don’t have to overhaul our buying choices overnight to favor the environment. Nor does the environment always need to be the last thing we consider when making a choice about where to put our pennies. Sometimes, we can make tiny choices. We can do small things. The difference will add up.
