n o d d y b o o m

this is a quiet beginning

I am quietly opening my store.  It is a quiet beginning.  I am treading on unknown shores, here, and still finding my way around the world of etsy and just computer stuff in general, bear with me.

Plus, I am going out of town early on Wednesday to Artfest and aside from getting ready for that, I am currently busy with two kids who are still on Spring Break and need to be kept busy.  I have no idea, really, why I chose to open my store today, but I did and so I am.  Quietly.  No parade or special fonts or anything to celebrate its existence.  And it's so silly, there are currently only three skeins of yarn being offered (or will be offered as soon as I can figure out how to load up all the photos, etc.)  But it's more that I am completing something here, by opening, because I said I would, than anything else.  and they are lovely skeins of yarn.   And there will be more in the shop soon enough. 

So, these skeins are composed mostly of merino, but there is some corriedale in there as well and a little tinsel.  They are both multi-colored with colors randomly chosen by feel as I carded and spun.

It's hard to tell the difference, but those three photos above are one skein and the two below are the second skein.  The third skein is the Clinton/Kitty yarn I showcased in my last blog entry.

I have begun reading The Time Traveler's Wife again.  I am on page 107.  It is marvelous.  Almost more marvelous the second time around.  I've never read a book twice, before.  It's so exciting to find one this compelling.

Okay, back to etsy to continue with the yarn loading process and then off bowling with my Griffin. 

george clinton's hair meets hello kitty on acid

Now, bear with me, please, I still need to talk about the effect this book has had on me because everything, everything I do has temporarily become mundane, because of it.  I can hardly play cello.  I am uninspired to cook or sew or spin.  I crave the outdoors.  I am sad.  And perhaps it's not really sadness, but rather that I'm incredibly moved.  I am overcome with emotion and it has something to do with how beautiful life is and... love.  How beautiful love is god, when you are lucky enough to have love in your life but also the reality that everything is finite.  Life will end, ultimately.  It is a beautiful journey, life... and love.  One that will progress.  One that will weave in and out of itself.  We will grow old.  Things will happen.  Everything will change.  And I just want to watch all of it happen as closely as I can, before it goes away.  I want to really be present in each moment.  I don't want to blink, for fear I might miss something.  It is precious, all of it.  I know that and I want to absorb every instant before it is gone.  I want to remember everything and to keep it with me and geez, it just rushes by, doesn't it?  I can hardly keep up  slow down, for heaven's sake, this isn't a freeway I want to stop it!  I want to stop time and just be here in this moment forever, because it is so beautiful and I don't want to let it go.

But of course, it doesn't work that way.  And that is just tragic to me right now.  Tragic and heartbreaking because I love it so... but it's beautiful too.  Now it is spring and outside the flowers are bursting through the ground.  The mint in the back yard that was black and lifeless all winter long is reaching green tendrils up toward the sky.  This season reminds me that life does continue.  Death follows life and life follows death.  New journeys begin and end all the time.  I can't say "circle of life" without thinking of the "Lion King", unfortunately, but this is exactly what I'm talking about.  This is what touches me so.  It is a gift, being here on this journey.  It is a miracle.  We are so blessed.  I am grateful for every second.

That said, this is my latest hand made yarn.  It is 100% merino, hand-carded and spun by yours truly, while thinking nothing but good thoughts, I promise.  I will get it in the shop along with two or three other skeins of mixed fiber multi-color goodness on Monday by noon.

Have a beautiful day.

consumed

Post-ballet dinner out at the local divey hip Mexican restaurant.  Very yummy and cheesy, dark and noisy.  Perfect for restless kids.  I am now paying for it with an extremely bloated tummy, but I am full and happy.

I have more handspun to show-and-tell, but I didn't catch a photo today (sorry), so I will wait until I have good light tomorrow to shoot it.  It is very cute and colorful and bright and kind of reminds me of George Clinton's dreadlocks or Hello Kitty on acid.

Spent quite a bit of today loitering in various art stores, mostly gawking, but also stocking up on the supplies I desperately need for my upcoming classes at Artfest.  I can not believe it is already upon me (I leave this Wednesday).  I have mixed feelings of excitement and nervousness and anxiety and... I don't know.  Many things.  It's tough to leave my little ones, but at the same time it is greatly needed and appreciated food for my soul.

But this is all just filler, because what I really want to talk about is the fact that I am a wreck.  I have finished my book and have been completely consumed by it.  I am walking around half here and half there, reliving scene after scene.  I have been eaten up and spit out.  I am truly not myself.  The story and the characters will haunt me for quite some time, I imagine.  In a good way, mind you.  In a beautiful, delightful, hopeful, heart-wrenching, inspiring, love-sick way.  This was, perhaps, one of the most beautiful love stories I've ever come across.  I think I maybe came close to feeling this way after seeing "The Notebook", for the first time and before that, oh gosh, nothing.  I maybe got introduced to the idea with  "Somewhere in Time", but that was in the eighties, so these feelings weren't entirely available to me quite yet, young thing that I was.  But now, with this... I'm a wreck.  I'm a mushed up avocado.

**actually, just realized the book "someday" makes me feel a bit like this too.  have you seen it?  it's a children's book, of sorts, though i don't think i'll be able to read it to my kids, for fear of having to explain uncontrollable sobs.  I honestly can't read it without gushing tears.  it is a beautiful, simple story of the profundity of a mother's love.  my mother gave it to me.  i treasure it.**

distraction

walking to the dentist.  griff held onto the belt of my coat (sudden temperature drop today) the whole way.  so sweet.  he's still little even though he's gotten so big. 

new shoes = perfect for walking + chasing kids + playing cello + spring.

I took Chris to the airport today.  He will be gone for nearly four weeks.  I miss him.  To distract myself a bit, I have a bottle of wine and a half pound of Sees candy within reach and I am tackling the receipts and other miscellaneous papers that all seem to pile up on my desk faster than I can ever deal with them.  I have told myself that I must deal with these papers before I am allowed to pick up The Time Traveler's Wife and finish the final chapters.  I am sure I will be a puddle on the floor when I am done, so I have to complete the boring stuff first.  So... papers first, love story second. 

here's that little frame marley made the other day, that I promised to show you.  made from recycled wood packaging +nails + imagination.  very inventive, that one.  i'm much better at following recipes.

There's the back.  So cute, the nails and the hot pink tape.  Love.

Also loving:

this bread book (it's on my wish list) that I found out about through this site

this cool site

this amazing craft project site with instructions for all kinds of simple, beautiful projects to do with kids

and these couches (Marie, these are the ones I was telling you about).  tooo cool.  i love companies that make beautiful things out of bits and pieces of vintage and recycled treasures.  it makes me happy.

Ok.  The desk is reasonably cleared off.  I'm going for the book, the wine and the chocolate.  Have a beautiful evening!

it's too hot for this right now, but...

I never did show you that scarf I knitted up on my machine.  Here it is.

Cute, isn't it?  Yep.  It's safely tucked away in a drawer waiting for next winter (it's been in the 80's here, I can hardly bear to look at a photo of a scarf).

patched

Finally patched my jeans.

Funny how long it took me to get around to doing that.  They sat in my studio for weeks and the whole time I was cursing the fact that I didn't have a good pair of jeans to wear, yet I kept putting off fixing them.  At the end of the day, it took maybe an hour, hour and a half start to finish.  Not so bad.  I stitched them up while watching a cheesy vampire movie after I put the kids to bed.  Fun.

It's Spring Break (Happy Spring Break!).  I'm enjoying not having to rush the kids off to school in the morning.   We all lounge around in our pajamas for far too long.  It's quite decadent.   The kids have come up with the most creative projects  (remind me to show you the frame Marley made from a scrap of wood, some nails and a handful of creativity).

I've heard "Three Cups of Tea" is an excellent book.  I have my eyes on it for next time.  Longing to join or start a book club (note to self:  check local paper/library for book club).  Also interested in "Water For Elephants" and the E.Nesbit series.  Currently reading "The Magician's Nephew" with the kids.  Such a good one.  Brings back memories.  We all look forward to story time. 

easter eggs

It is early.  I am sleepy.  Griffin rolls into bed with "The Empire Strikes Back".  It is Chris's book from when he was a child.  It is falling apart.  The book actually spells out words like, "C3PO".   "Seethreepeeoh".  It's hilarious.  Griffin loves this book.  So does Chris.  He shoves it in Chris's face.  Read!  Chris opens the book and starts reading.  To himself.  "What are you doing... dehd?", Griffin says.  What did he just say?  I'm still groggy.  He repeats it.  Oh!,  he's saying, "What are you doing dude (southern Cali accent and all)"  Ha ha.  He wants Chris to read out loud and this is his way of telling him.  I don't know where he's picked this up from, but we are all a mess of giggles for a good five minutes.

I get in the shower.  Chris goes down to work in the basement.  He is booked solid for the next five weeks.  He is very busy.  I am on kid duty, but I need to take a shower.  Marley gets in the shower with me.  Griffin has specific instructions to stay in his room.  When I get out of the shower and go downstairs to start making breakfast I find this:

Griffin has obviously not stayed in his room.  It is a common occurrence.  Griffin seems to be a chef in training, lately.  There's no stopping him.  And it's so sweet, actually, I can't find it in me to scold him.  I mean, the boy loves to make things in the kitchen.  And he's usually good at it.  Still, something has to be done.  But not right now.  I find out what's in the bowl.  Bananas, butter, lemon.  We decide to turn it into pancakes.  We find out later that he has also added pepper.  Oh well, there's pepper in chai tea, why not pancakes?  "They're tea pancakes!", Griffin chirps.  I make him promise to wait for me next time before he goes downstairs to cook.

We eat.  I (sort of) clean up the breakfast dishes.  I get out some eggs. 

We have been gone all week and I have done nothing Eastery with the kids.  Chris has kindly stopped at the store the night before to purchase "white" eggs, so I decide we need to decorate them immediately.  I very much dislike hard boiled eggs, so we decide to blow them out.  Naturally, Griffin helps. 

He's very good at it.   

We make "marbled" eggs, first.

We cut up bits of tissue paper, get them wet and paste them on the blown-out eggs.  We leave them to dry (once the tissue dries, you can peel the paper off and the color remains on the shell in its own sort of pattern - supposedly marbled). 

We found out later that only the blue worked, for us.  The orange and red did nothing, but it still looked nice, in the end.  Although, in the future, I think I'd just leave the paper on.  That looked nice, too.

We also do a number of painted eggs with loads of glitter on them.  While the eggs dry, we go to the beach.

One would think this would be just the thing to calm the kids down and get them ready for a quiet afternoon of reading and drawing and going to sleep early, but no.  That doesn't happen at all.  In fact they go to bed later than ever and there are loud choruses of giggles and hoots and hollers all the way there.  They have all the energy in the world, today.  Nevertheless, the beach affords me an hour to read and look at the waves and enjoy the spring sun and the kids get to get wet and sandy and build a huge castle.  Everyone's happy.  It's a beautiful day.

I love my book.

When we get home, I start hanging the eggs as I prepare dinner.  I am determined to finish this project today.  I attach string to half a toothpick with my glue gun, stick the toothpick pieces into the decorated shells (and wiggle them around until they stay in there), then wrap the other end of the string around tiny branches.  Two eggs in,  there is an enormous crash upstairs.  I race upstairs to find Marley's bureau turned on its side and her terrarium smashed on the floor, with wet dirt and rocks and shattered glass, a plant and a plastic deer redecorating the floor.  It's ugly.  There are a lot of tears, but no one is hurt. Luckily, I have an extra terrarium bowl sitting around, so I comfort Marley, lift the bureau back into place, stick Griffin carefully outside the range of broken glass, clean up the mess and re-make the terrarium.  Marley learns not to have every single one of her drawers open at once.  All is well.  Phew.

I head back downstairs and finish the egg-tree.  It is simple, but it is done and much more beautiful than this picture.  The kids are thrilled.  I am filled with memories.  Life is good. 

random

"Like this, Griffin", Marley chirps as she careens down the hill in a magnificent arc.  Griff follows.  He wants  Marley's poles, but he is too young.  Marley knows this, but she gives him one anyway.  He uses it to poke holes in the snow.  It is a golf club, a weapon, a tool.  Now Marley asks for it back.  We need to move on.  The pole is relinquished reluctantly and we are off again, flying, sailing, soaring, one after another, like ducks in a row.  The sun peeks from behind the clouds and then hides again.  The wind picks up.  The air is crisp.  I look at my watch.  It is time to go home. 

Over lunch I hear they are planning to put ammonia in our tap water.  I need to check on this.  If this is truly the case, I am terribly distressed, for many reasons, but mainly because our reverse osmosis system (that we had installed so as to avoid using bottled water and to cut down on our carbon footprint, etc.) will not filter the ammonia out.  And then what?  You can't drink water in plastic bottles, because you never know whether or not the bottles have sat in the sun, which then warms up the plastic releasing terrible toxins into the water, rendering it undrinkable.  Plus, there's the carbon footprint issue (ie:  what's the true cost of flying water out from Fiji?).  And you don't necessarily want to drink the reverse osmosis water that has ammonia in it either.  Sigh.  What to do?  Where is this all going?  Not in a very favorable direction, unfortunately, it seems.  But, like I said, I need to check on this.  I'm sure there's a solution somewhere.

I filled up my car on the way home from the airport.  Gas was $3.58 a gallon for the cheap stuff, and that's a good price, right now.  Most of the gas at the station was sold out.  Someone had taped up signs that read "Sold Out" .  Only one pump had any gas in it.  I filled my tank.  Visions of sold out gas stations and lines of cars loomed in my head.  I tried to imagine how we would get the kids to school if we had to start rationing gas and could no longer use our car for such things.  It's quite a bike ride and not very safe.  At least we can walk to the farmer's market for food.  That's lucky.  Perhaps we would home-school.  I don't know.  Road trips would certainly be out of the question.  They almost already are.

shelter

:: In Aspen for a few days, collecting icicles, skiing, making snowfairy houses, visiting with friends, finding a few delicious moments here and there to read my book, which I love, though I've hardly had time to pick it up.  I'm still nursing the cold my husband gave to me last week.  I'm on the mend, but viruses now-a-days seems to be rather clingy, and this one is no exception.  My nose is chapped, which make me feel like I'm four.

I keep thinking about this post which I learned about here and once you get past the bit about the "green" debate and those disappointing statements the "anti-green" team was making, it's a reminder of, just the pros and cons of living anywhere.  Raising children in LA always raises a question in my heart about whether or not we're raising them in the best possible environment.  It is a big city, full of all the things a big city has to offer, both good and not so good.  I often dream of moving away from the city, closer to nature, etc.  Chris even bought me this beautiful print for Valentine's Day from The Black Apple's shop, which is reminiscent of exactly that, a girl longing to move from the city.  I love it.

But anyway, I guess my point is that I was reminded by that post that these things we are trying to protect our children from, whatever they may be, exist everywhere.  There is no escaping from them.  I can't leave LA and expect to find a more "perfect" situation somewhere else.  There will always be pros and cons, no matter where we live.  I can not shelter them (or us) from everything.  Scary.  But, at the same time, it's almost comforting, like, "oh, pros and cons exist everywhere, so I might just as well just stay right where I am and start enjoy the positives of what I have here, now, instead of living in some future, nonexistent, fabricated situation that's meant to be better than what I actually already have right here, right now ".  Phew.  That's a load off.  ::