Charlie bit me

Hope you're all enjoying your families this holiday weekend, and playing nice.

I'm thankful

I'm thankful that I am.
I'm thankful that you are.
I'm thankful we live in an exquisite world at an important time.
I'm thankful life has meaning—divine origin, process, and destination—all beautiful.
I'm thankful for love, light, truth, and Providence.
I'm thankful this journey isn't meant to be a solitary one, but a shared joy.
I'm thankful for Yes and for Today.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

Hair is for horses

Rob and I took a morning walk along the river trail, down near the lake. The trees have turned wintry looking; the fallen leaves were all blown off the path and turning to mulchy meal. The water birds were all fluffed out; we came upon some ducks taking a break from the chilly water and warming their feet on the sunny pavement. We stopped and threw rocks to break up the thin layer of ice already formed at a little bend in the river. Ice already? Really? We climbed down the bank and walked out onto a mini-peninsula, because we could. Rob found me a new pair of sunglasses, which he said make me look hip. That's me, hip. We heard a strangely familiar sound—the one you always hear in old westerns when there's a shot of an Indian in the wilderness: an eagle's screech—only this cry came from a starling, the poseur. Funny to think of the grandiose thoughts that might have been going through that bird's head; maybe he wants to make movies, is hoping to be discovered. We all have our dreams.

We also had some nice encounters with other creatures walking the path. We met an old man and his two happy, companionable border collies. I adore that breed—so intelligent and sensitive. Really beautiful. I sometimes joke with Rob that he is a sheepdog—that's very much his nature in certain respects—so I'm already accustomed to the interpersonal dynamic; maybe we should get one after Izzy dies. The smaller of the man's two dogs attached herself to me and wanted petting and eye contact—oh, those copper eyes! I wanted to take her home. The man said the dogs had been a pair for more than nine years and he figured they'd had only one or two disagreements in all that time. For some reason, maybe just to have something to say, the man asked if we were going to church today. After a funny little discussion on that subject, he told us: "I'd rather be out on my horse wishin' I was at church than in church wishin' I was out on my horse." I hear that.

Near the end of our walk we met up with one of the horses whose pasture is adjacent to the river trail. We stopped and pulled up tempting grasses that were out of reach, and the horse gladly accepted our gifts. Munch, munch, munch—I hate the word munch normally, but it's exactly what a horse's grinding teeth sound like, and I don't mind it when I'm there in person. Such powerful jaws. This was a young horse. Once in a while the horse would turn its hay breath and rubber lips on me and sort of breathe with me and kiss on my nose, or take friendly nibbles at my shoulder. That was all sweet and delightful until while nuzzling my forehead the horse found a hunk of my hair to yank and chomp, like a clump of weeds, and I very nearly got scalp bangs. I managed to pry my hair out of his jaws and come away with most of the hunk roughly intact, but had to wear a slick of slobber till I could get home and wash my hair out. Ew.

Three more beautiful things about this day:

1. Rob's love and care.
2. Chris & Amy's first anniversary. I'm so happy you two found each other. You're a beautiful pair, and I love you so much. Congratulations on reaching this incredible milestone.
3. An early Thanksgiving pot luck with my terrific Bowen cousins. Nobody plays Apples to Apples like you guys. And having Marsha sing me her "Glitter Power" song was almost too much joy to experience and still survive.

Here's a sweet read: a nice short essay about horse love.

Thanksgiving started today

Paradox: In spite of its underlying melancholy, my day has been one of joy.

I got a Facebook message last week from an old friend Rob and I knew and loved when we were first married. We lost contact eons ago, and I've tried several times to find him over the years. What a happy surprise it was to have him just show up and want to reconnect. But as if that wasn't enough, he shared some news today that made me whoop loud, smile long, and cry a little. It came in parts: (1) he's decided to be baptized into our faith (and close enough for us to attend), (2) he's got a plan in the works to marry a friend he knew in high school way way way back when, and (3) he's moving back to Utah, and will be only half an hour from us. SO FABULOUS. I almost can't stand it, it's so beautiful.

And then. AND THEN. I find out THIS: La Yen is preggers! So so so so so so so so so very glad for her and hers. You just never know when it's going to be your turn for a miracle. I love that La Yen is now a Fertile Myrtle. I love that Jooj is going to have a baby Waldo or Walda (or both!) to teach some tricks. I love that La Yen and W get to pass on their superior genes to some lucky hatchling(s). They've got the Nurture part down pat as far as I can tell, and now they get to add Nature to their repertoire. Lovely every way you look at it.

So now I'm on a roll and since my friend who's getting baptized, hitched, and relocated has always been deeply connected with Thanksgiving in my memory (I will offer photographic evidence of why when I can find the pictures), I hereby declare that the holiday has begun. Tomorrow I hope to find some black olives to wear on my fingers to really get it started right.

Heidi Egan, if you're reading this, I'm talking about STEVE MIKE. (I know!)

So here are a few other items for the gratitude list today:

• I managed to squeeze myself into some long-disabled cords, thanks to the ol' elastic band trick. I may get my wardrobe back this year after all, and even ditch the elastic bands.

• Got half my mountain of laundry done. Kilimanjaro, just for reference.

• This post. And this one. I love those girls.

• Said no to ranch dressing.

• Saturday music: Anna Moffo singing "Summertime," Derek & the Dominos covering "Little Wing," and an hour of bluegrass on Pandora

• Still eating black kale from the garden.

• My hair's beginning to grow back and fill in some of its crop circles.

• Had an unlooked-for chance to help Rob make an activity successful for a regional gathering of single adults which was held at our church meetinghouse.

• Got a nice big kiss planted on me in front of said singles after whispering to Rob that I'd been getting heavily flirted at by several of the fellers present.

• Pumpkin chocolate chippers.

• Goose down comforters.

• This.

• An at-home date: eating in, working to figure out details for our shadow puppet theater, and going for a chilly downtown walk.

• Table talk.

• Tony in the east, and Tony in the west, and the gift of their communications.

• Midnight biscotti.

In the key of see

Several entertainments I enjoyed after a difficult day of brain therapy:

• I heard the last snatch of an incredible traditional gospel tune that I MUST learn to play (heard it on KBYU-FM).

• I spotted a group of about eight teens on the walking path that parallels a main drag—they were waving at cars like aliens trying desperately to make contact. No one on that trafficky road seemed interested, so I honk-honked and flapped my arm. The bunch came alive, all grins and arms. A girl the shape and color of a prize-winning pumpkin completely defied the pull of both gravity and good taste as she lea-ea-eaped into the air in excruciatingly adolescent nerd joy, screamed, and did a few juicy rounds of "YESSSSS!" arms. Beautiful!

• I noticed a car parked in front of a large apartment complex, next to a very tall, very naked tree. The car was wearing a swath of leaves at least six inches deep from front to back, but there was not one leaf anywhere on the ground around it. Or anywhere else in the parking lot. Or on any other car. The tree leaned over it slightly, like it was inspecting its very funny practical joke. I suspect tomfoolery, but I blame one of the kids in the complex, not that wintry tree.

• While waiting to turn right at a busy intersection I suddenly saw all these microcosms whizz past me—people having quiet moments alone or with others, arguments, laughter, distraction, even a non-traffic-friendly romantic encounter—half a hundred little worlds being hauled around, whipping through the air on four wheels each, a great rush of situations. Everyone in a private universe.

• A fresh headful of songs written and performed by friends. The Great Salt Lake Guitar Company is a super little venue for an intimate concert. Congratulations to Brian and Steve and . . . what was the opening band's name? . . . Raccoon Colons? Anyway, thanks for the fun evening. You made me want to strum my guitar and get better acquainted with my accordion. And your P712 song made me hungry.

Lovely, funny life.

To Eggplant, with love

I gave my Master Gardener presentation today—on Eggplant. After learning much more about one of my all-time favorite foods, I realized that it's one of the most under-appreciated and misunderstood veggies of all time. It's been called many bad names, like Mala Insana or "Apple of Madness," and has suffered a badly marred reputation just because it's chummy with toxic cousins like Jimsonweed and Deadly Nightshade. But think about it. What has Eggplant ever done to you? And what could be nicer than a perfectly ripe, deliciously prepared Eggplant? Admit it, you can't live without Baba Ghanoush. I know I can't.

I dressed nicely for my presentation this afternoon—herringbone skirt, cabled sweater, chunky heels. I really should have worn my punk rock Docs instead, to show my solidarity with Eggplant.

If Eggplant had a soundtrack, this would be it:

Heave-ho!

[If you're feeling urpish or are easily impressionable, read on at your own risk.]

Firstly, we'd just finished supper ten minutes prior to the incident.

Secondly, I was doing some laundry for a neighbor who's on post-partum bed rest, and just happened to be dealing with a particularly disturbing towel. (Don't judge.)

Thirdly, the dog was four feet away. Maybe three. He's really old and he really smells.

Fourthly, the dog huked up a Horrible Something, three and half feet away from me. Maybe two and a half. Something that was never intended by Mother Nature to project from that end of a dog. (TMI already, or should I be more descriptive?) I screamed and opened the back door and out ran the dog, to huke some more, alone, in the cold.

Fifthly, I started to heave. Hard. So I ran. I ran to the bathroom to oust its present occupant and grab the Pine-Sol so I could (a) sniff it, and (b) gather my courage to deal with the Horrible Something.

Sixthly, the former occupant of the bathroom sympathized when I said the word "awful," responding tenderly, "Oh, I believe it was awful . . . ," and before he could finish his sentence I had a terrible vision of the the Horrible Something my dog ate while hiking with said former bathroom occupant, earlier in the day. "No more words!" I said, and heaved.

There you have them, half a dozen reasons why:

—Why I put my head in a waste basket and kept it there for almost ten full minutes, heaving.

—Why I called the s.f.o.b.* on the intercom and begged him to do the wretched clean-up job for me, since I couldn't take my head out of the waste basket.

—Why I felt a little miffed that the s.f.o.b.* let the dog eat the Horrible Something in the first place. (It was a passing irrational grudge. Don't tell me you wouldn't have held it for a second too.)

—Why I sequestered myself in the library (with my head still in the waste basket) until I knew s.f.o.b.* had finished the dreadful job and it was safe to come out.

—Why I suddenly found myself on the floor, my head still in the waste basket, heaving and gagging, and laughing (my guts out, nearly) at the ridiculousness of the situation.

—Why I decided I needed my little jar of Vicks Vaporub to sniff, but dreaded walking past the huked-on landing to go downstairs for it.

—Why I found the only somewhat distractingly fragrant item in the library—an Aloe chapstick—and practically shoved it up my nose (to stop me from heaving).

—Why my stomach really, really hurts!

—Why I love my s.f.o.b.* for doing the dirty work tonight.


*said former occupant of the bathroom

Wonderful roses

This one's for my everything—

Thanks, sweetheart, and you know the what-fors. At least some of them.

One deadline down, one to go. But no end to us. xo



(Doncha just love Ben Abraham?)

Wearing out my muse

Some writers just can't take a hint, I guess.

But I've simply got to make that screenplay competition deadline!
Don't you have anything else for me?

And that's a complicated thing

She's a child prodigy, sucker

Am I living in a fairy tale?

A strange person who may or may not eat children gave me a magic seed yesterday. A Joshua Tree seed.



I might plant it and make a wish for a ground sloth.



Sloths are wonderful and I've wanted one for a pet for oh so long! They sleep a lot and get up late. They are affectionate, love interaction, and are well-behaved. They are slow folks. So relatable in every way.

If my magic Joshua Tree seed fails to magically produce a formerly extinct ground sloth, I will be happy to settle for this kind:

Herman the two-toed sloth, photo by Ontley, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License

Correcting my vision

Poppy Day

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

— Lt. Col. John McCrae (1872-1918)

"Lest We Forget," photo by hobvias sudoneighm, published

under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 2.0 License.

So much to blog about, so little time for sleep

Tonight I choose sleep. But here's my working list of what I'd like to blog about from the past two days, and hopefully I can spend some time fleshing out these notes tomorrow, when the world isn't spinning quite so fast. IF, that is.

• brain mapping and mindful spending
• sitting for an artist/making a friend
• meditative "OPEN" signs
• becoming thoroughly bone-chilled
• a strange dream
• Bjorking electrodes
• the way to shop Savers
• Solomon's ceramic cash cow
• an old man dog who moans while making his bed
• my Vicks trick
• guts
• finally, another screenplay
• plant diagnostics
• jigsaw therapy
• raisin-filled inspiration and long-sought fritters
• writin' roll
• Wasatch Elementary art extravaganza
• old friends
• new friends (Hi, Lee! Hi, Lara!)
• period dramas—are they worth their crinoline?

That's way too much to cover. Always the perfect place for me to stop.

Until tomorrow—
Vicks out.

Art fare for the common man

Today I was lucky model #48 for this great project by artist Steven Waggoner. More details about the experience tomorrow, but for now, how about an invitation to the opening reception that's happening in THREE DAYS? Please come and enjoy food and folks and, if you're so inclined, even take part in the silent auction which will benefit the Food and Care Coalition. Steven is delightful and has done an impressive job with his "one-hour" portraits.

It's pretty much guaranteed that if you live in Provo you'll know at least one of Steven's models. No, really. You doubt me? Okay then, what about Mayor Billings? What about ME?

Please bring your friends, your interest, and your wallet too if you can spare a dime.

Sunday funnies, Mormon-style

Q. What do you get when you multiply one Sunday dinner at Tribal Headquarters by too much sugar, then add one grinning uncle with a silly idea?

A. The church hymnal, collaboratively revamped. And lots of giggling children.

Come on, everybody! Sing with us!

(You'll never get through this awful list. Unless you're related. Or OCD. Sorry.)

• Awake and Arise in the Bathtub
• Come, Rejoice in the Bathtub
• What Was Witnessed in the Heavens in the Bathtub?
• An Angel from on High in the Bathtub
• What Glorious Scenes Mine Eyes Behold in the Bathtub
• Awake, Ye Saints of God, Awake in the Bathtub!
• We Ever Pray for Thee in the Bathtub
• God Bless Our Prophet Dear in the Bathtub
• Now We'll Sing with One Accord in the Bathtub
• Praise to the Man in the Bathtub
• A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief in the Bathtub
• O God, Our Help in Ages Past in the Bathtub
• The Happy Day at Last Has Come in the Bathtub
• The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close in the Bathtub
• Let Zion in Her Beauty Rise in the Bathtub
• Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken in the Bathtub
• Let Earth's Inhabitants Rejoice in the Bathtub
• All Creatures of Our God and King in the Bathtub
• On This Day of Joy and Gladness in the Bathtub
• For All the Saints in the Bathtub
• Great God, Attend While Zion Sings in the Bathtub
• Dearest Children, God Is Near You in the Bathtub
• I Need Thee Every Hour in the Bathtub
• Master, the Tempest Is Raging in the Bathtub
• The Lord My Pasture Will Prepare in the Bathtub
• Come, Ye Disconsolate in the Bathtub
• Ye Simple Souls Who Stray in the Bathtub
• Lean on My Ample Arm in the Bathtub
• I'm a Pilgrim, I'm a Stranger in the Bathtub
• Though Deepening Trials in the Bathtub
• Be Still, My Soul in the Bathtub
• Does the Journey Seem Long in the Bathtub?
• Where Can I Turn for Peace in the Bathtub?
• Be Thou Humble in the Bathtub
• Did You Think to Pray in the Bathtub?
• Secret Prayer in the Bathtub
• Prayer Is the Soul's Sincere Desire in the Bathtub
• Sweet Is the Work in the Bathtub
• Sabbath Day in the Bathtub
• As the Dew from Heaven Distilling in the Bathtub
• God Be with You Till We Meet Again in the Bathtub
• Father, This Hour Has Been One of Joy in the Bathtub
• Now the Day Is Over in the Bathtub
• The Lord Be with Us in the Bathtub
• Abide with Me in the Bathtub
• I Stand All Amazed in the Bathtub
• While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks in the Bathtub
• Ring Out, Wild Bells in the Bathtub
• We Are Sowing in the Bathtub
• Come, Let Us Anew in the Bathtub
• Because I Have Been Given Much in the Bathtub
• Have I Done Any Good in the Bathtub?
• I Have Work Enough to Do in the Bathtub
• Improve the Shining Moments in the Bathtub
• There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today in the Bathtub
• Scatter Sunshine in the Bathtub
• Father, Cheer Our Souls Tonight in the Bathtub
• Let Us Oft Speak Kind Words in the Bathtub
• Nay, Speak No Ill in the Bathtub
• Should You Feel Inclined to Censure in the Bathtub
• Behold Thy Sons and Daughters, Lord, in the Bathtub
• Know This, That Every Soul Is Free in the Bathtub
• Count Your Blessings in the Bathtub
• Behold! A Royal Army in the Bathtub
• Carry On in the Bathtub
• Rejoice! A Glorious Sound Is Heard in the Bathtub
• The Time Is Far Spent in the Bathtub
• Come, All Whose Souls Are Lighted in the Bathtub
• Truth Reflects upon Our Senses in the Bathtub
• The Iron Rod in the Bathtub
• Men Are That They Might Have Joy in the Bathtub
• Welcome, Welcome, Sabbath Morning in the Bathtub
• O My Father in the Bathtub
• From Homes of Saints Glad Songs Arise in the Bathtub
• Home Can Be a Heaven on Earth in the Bathtub
• I Am a Child of God in the Bathtub
• I Know My Father Lives in the Bathtub
• School Thy Feelings in the Bathtub
• O Home Beloved in the Bathtub

You have no idea how much I need to make a quilt

Shady characters

Rob and I began a project together tonight: a shadow play. It's been five whole years since the first time I was involved in a shadow theater production. What a great experience that was. It's been on my mind off and on since then to create a shadow stage here in our house—and I think I may have finally hit upon just the right place for one, in the library. Oh, big ideas over here. Rob's been hearing me talk about shadow puppets since 2004, and bless his bones for getting into it with me tonight. We chose the story, got the characters worked out, and outlined the basic scenes. It's a start.

I have to say, I really love that Rob. What a wonder he is. And such a delight to be with. He's trying to support me in my right brain/well brain cause. Offers to play Set® with me in the evenings, brings in nice paper from the shop so I can fill it up with amateur stuff. Now this. It is a great thing to focus on and share, not to mention a natural step to take for two people so steadily involved with paper. Feels good to even be considering a creative project. The nice thing about shadow theater is that it can be effective even without much polish. If all we had were our hands and a wall a light, we could tell a story.

Look what these kids did—



Makes me smile. And smiling is good.

Fruits of November

Rob's Saturday baking spree —


The last of the season are always the sweetest—


Roses that smell like autumnal apples—


[Off-topic—Today's right brain activity: going into new-to-me shops and getting my eyes full of color and texture. Also, trying on too many hats and sniffing my way across a perfume display.]

When I said whomped yesterday, I meant the other whomped

Not whomped as in decisively defeated, but as in struck heavily, or thumped. Like the way my head feels tonight. That kind of whomped. Sorry, my candidates, if I made it sound like you were any more than inched out by your opponents. Every race was a close one. Thanks for your clarification, Jessie. And like you, I'm ready to move on (and not move away, at least not after sleeping on the impulse). Hopefully the drama really is done. Anyway, here's to future days~

Meanwhile, back at the brain hatchery, check out this online Set® game. Remember, it's good for your left and right hemispheres. Like Wheaties for the mind.



(Talk about awesome packaging!)

While anxiously watching every one of my candidates get whomped

I will list some possible uses for a ping-pong ball:

spare eyeball
pin cushion
cat toy
toilet clogger
big toe spacer
cut in half and glued to wall globe-side out—two door bumpers
ear plugs for the Big Bad Wolf while dressed as Grandma
strung with others—fake pearls
minimalist navel jewel for a cavernous innie
ineffectual marble shooter
motivational tool in a henhouse
bait for an egg-stealing snake
magician’s prop
Barbie’s full moon
rollerskate for the unsuspecting
cut in half and painted red—two clown noses
cut in half—two emergency sacrament cups
1/10,000th Love Sac stuffing
drilled with a hole and corked—canteen
drilled with a hole and corked—salt shaker
exercise ball for fairies to develop core strength
bowling with matches
reflexology helper
thumb-sucking alternative
consequence for swearing
everlasting gobstopper, unflavored
time capsule
chain pull
dresser-drawer knob
toe-grab workout
pocket friend

What else? Ask your right brain.

(I'm sad about this election. 'Nuff said, I guess.)

Onward.

Hemisphere Helper

On the menu today for my right brain:

interesting pictures
meditation
a few awkward left-handed tasks
a different walking route downtown
two rounds of Set®

and I picked up these two titles at Pioneer Book, with an old coupon I had:

The Brain Workout Book
More Creative Growth Games.

Also, I got started again with my Kundalini yoga this morning and then got out into the sun while it was still high. These may not be exclusively right brain activities, but you'll never convince me they weren't good for both sides of my gray matter.

In my right mind

Whew. I actually made it through Blogtoberfest without missing a day. Now that November has come, it feels like time for another goal. I considered a writing task—after all, 'tis the season to put 50,000 words together at breakneck speed (see NaNoWriMo and its offshoots). I tried on a number of other possibilities for size: working out, practicing music, going sugar-free, reading this, learning that, and so on. These are great ideas and I hope to get around to them all, but for now I've concluded that simply committing to some healthy right-brain activity every day could be a real help to me this month. So, that's as specific as I'm going to make it at the outset: let the right brain come out and play.

I spent some time this morning reading different articles on the subject of brain health and making notes about activities that stimulate the right and left hemispheres. Very interesting. It's not hard to recognize that I desperately need more balance between the two—better brain order, better mood management.

Today I got a small start by shifting much of my right-hand work over to my left. Try it sometime; give your own non-dominant hand a chance to pull its weight and see if it doesn't slow you down and make you far more mindful of your tasks. Good thing I didn't have to be at church till 1:00 p.m. For fun, I also tried a silly little exercise I found online: With a marker or a crayon, draw a self-portrait. Upside down. With your non-dominant hand. Then sign your work. Still upside down. My Geo in highlighter green was laughable and, as in a bad dream, had forgotten her clothes. But she must have felt fully dressed because she was certainly smiling (no teeth though). Sorry I didn't think to scan her before I threw her away (after dressing her). I might try to draw her again soon, and if I do, I'll try to remember to introduce you, if I can persuade her to be modest.

I may eventually do some left hemisphere workouts too, but it feels right to begin with some creative, intuitive, non-structured relief. Care to join me?

Love, Lefty