reGENERATIONs

2010-02-10T14:35:00.000-04:00

please find me here

reWIND

2010-01-03T15:35:00.001-04:00

this is how i feel today...

here's hoping tomorrow finds trouble melting like lemon drops way above the chimney tops...

rewind

2010-01-02T10:40:00.004-04:00

i wonder who will find me here.

it has been a while, but the turn of the clock and reflections on the past year have me in a sentimental mood. plus my computer crashed AGAIN, and i'm learning how to use a hand-me down computer AGAIN, and that little rainbow wheel just keeps spinning (i imagine its mocking happy face turning turning turning), so i can't post pictures on my new page, and, oh well...

i fell completely in love last march when i began this blog. but soon the walls closed in, and i ran for the hills. i'm not moving back here permanently; you can never step into the same river twice, right? what you can do, is pull out your old photos of that pre-kids pre-responsibilities whitewater rafting vacation, and remember what it was like to be young and single and unfettered by star-bellied sneeches who tell you 'no'.

have i lost you? have i even found you? yes? no? well...my point is i'm re-posting thoughts from when i was new to this space. i regret that i lost your original comments; they meant so much to me, but they are still here in my heart.

enjoy!

please excuse me if everyone has seen this video already, but michelle's post left me wanting to do my share to part the clouds and help usher in a new day.

so this one goes out to ty, and his effort to fill the hungry bellies of people who have less than he.

it goes out to my sister as she stays up too late chasing away the monsters under her bed. it goes out to the chickens and all those barely tolerating the southern heat as we in the northeast are filled to bursting with heavenly showers.

it goes out to funny ladies who make us smile on the toughest of days. and people who would give their last penny to encourage someone they hardly know.

it goes out to the poets and the dreamers.

it goes out to those whose dreams, after what seemed like an impossible eternity have finally come true.

and to everyone who has read my words, whether once in passing or as part of their daily bread.

this one goes out to the network we are creating...the power we are harnessing.

it goes out to each of six degrees that are one by one dropping like flies, and to the miracle we will create when we are truly ready to shed all difference and distance.

until then, be well. i'll see you on the other side of tomorrow.

2009-07-07T00:30:00.002-03:00

i'm actually crying with the FEAR of writing this. what a DORK!

i have to assume you are the ONLY person reading this, and i'm sure it's okay with YOU if i cry, and if i can't spell, and if i'm NOT FUNNY.

because you actually knew me when i was YOUNG. when there was promise. when we still assumed everything would be great. forget great...AMAZING. when the world... the woods, were ours. capture the flag and kickball and everything was MAGIC, and there was no question that we would SOAR.

and now. i'm not so much soaring. i could. i KNOW i could. but my heart is broken after so much SHIT, you know?

my kids are gorgeous. they're perfect, and SWEET, and healthy.

but their dad hasn't paid child support in THREE YEARS, and i can't even find him to get a DIVORCE, and i love my new man, but he's a TRAINWRECK, and i was laid off, and my daddy's gone and my family is definately crazier than yours.

my MOM didn't even call to check in on me after i lost my job. nice, huh?

i have the GREATEST fair-weather family. really. they're great. we have fun, we drink wine, we laugh our ASSES off. but when you actually need something...

and i need something. i hope to GOD what's happening right now, is that i am opening a door.

i PRAY that when i hit the 'post' button some cosmic rusted bolt squeaks open and a GLORIOUS beautiful ANGEL ushers me into a place at least a smidgen more PEACEFUL than the one which i now occupy.

that there will be some sort of REPRIEVE, and that i will STEP BACK into the possibility that we all BURNED with when we were 8. or 9. or even 10.

may it BE so.

starting over

2009-07-07T00:28:00.003-03:00

i have to say, today, this feels really good.

my *ohm mane padme ohmmmm* guru blog mom at PIECE OF CAKE said it would, and she was right.
to re-member who i once was, who i actually am underneath the calcified shell that is an absolute must have fashion accessory if you are even considering spending your days and nights as a human being in new york city.

in bed-stuy, no less...home of lil' kim, smif-n-wessun (what?!!!), mike tyson, and frank mcCourt...ever read 'angel's ashes'?...

of all the god-forsaken, babylonian places on planet earth to raise your kids. i mean, seriously. what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks was i thinking? actually, i LOVE my 'hood.

but i digress.

as much as it felt incredibly satisfying to vent, to emote, to express some of my immense disappointment, as well as a little bit of hope, and have someone out there say

you're right
and it felt absolutely fantastic to successfully find and post pictures from the interweb, without the help of a homo sapien who, by the luck of the draw, happens to wear their gonads on the outside, what i am supposed to be doing is sharing this...

...my most recent attempt at starting over.

after close to 20 years of designing (somewhat frightening) novelty sweaters for other people, i am reinventing myself as a recession-depression entrepreneur.

so, what started as an occasional foray into embellishing sweaters and tee-shirts for birthday gifts is becoming a bit of a full-blown cottage industry; i'm boiling sweaters and making a line of toys (reCREATION), 'heir jewelry' (reADORN), bags (rePORTAGE), and costumes(reCOVER).

if only the faeries and i could keep the cottage out of foreclosure...

mother's day, 2009

2009-07-07T00:26:00.001-03:00

these are not the dishes that my significant other washed while allowing me to sleep four hours longer than the rest of the family (in his stead. ahem).

i was awake by 6.15, and these dishes piled up before 9. and while they piled up i did what moms, what women have been doing ever since we were first dragged into caves by the weaker sex.

i created.

i learned something about my instinct to make pretty things last fall when i sat every wednesday with a group of moms from my children's school, working on crafts to raise money at our annual winter fair.

initially i simply thought it a good idea to learn some new techniques; i had never before felted, or made a doll.

about 15 minutes into the first session, a funny thing happened.

my shoulders began to drop from their usual perch up around my ears, and my back straightened . i ceased thinking about how much time i was taking away from the office, or what form of torture my boss would have waiting for me when i returned.

i didn't think about laundry, or dishes, or taxes. and although we may have more cause than anyone else i know, for three full hours every wednesday, none of the mommies whined. do you know why?

because there is no whining in nirvana.

after six weeks of new projects, far too many all-nighters, lots of laughter, a few tears, and a whole lot of getting to know the people whose children spend their days with mine, i had made this..

after a successful fair my schedule returned to normal, as did the quasimodish curve of my spine. then one night it dawned on me. all those weeks sitting in that circle, sharing, creating... i didn't have a single negative, self-depricating, defeatist thought.

i had felt satisfied.

while promoting his most recent book, i heard michael pollan say something like 'if you do things the way your mom or grandmother or great grandmother did, you'll probably be headed in the right direction'. which might explain why i feel so okay when i am crafting.

you see, my mom makes pretty things. as did my aunties, and great-grandmom, and a whole host of women who came before them.

for ever and ever, women have sat in circles, cared for each other's children, laughed, cried, and made things...

alphabet blocks, the circular saw, the dishwasher, the elevated railway, the fire escape, the medical syringe, the windshield wiper, and most importantly, the chocolate-chip cookie.

all invented by women.

so this mother's day instead of sleeping in, getting my toenails painted and going to brunch, i woke up early and i made this robot...

then i made breakfast, let the dishes begin their steady march toward the ceiling, and made this tea party hat...

and my shoulders relaxed, my back straightened, and i didn't even hear my kids whining.

because there is no whining in nirvana.

hope you had a very happy mother's day...

this'll be a piece of cake!

2009-07-07T00:25:00.001-03:00

i'll start with a friendly reminder...just two more days til friday... which means time is running out for your name to be entered into the great cupcake give away!

that's right. our lovely laura from PIECE OF CAKE came up with the brilliant idea to send this 'a blog is born' treat to one of you lucky blogettes. all you need to do is post a comment...

laura knows you all (too) well, but i am a quick study. hence, i have come up with a brilliant idea of my own..

tell your friends about my blog, the giveaway...if they mention you
in their comment , your name will be tossed in the hat as many times as i see it!
hey, we know how to throw a paaaar-tay here in brooklyn.

anyhoo.

i didn't make anything today. it was far too beautiful, far too perfect to sit behind a sewing machine. but i didn't want the day to pass without putting some energy toward my sprouting uh..sprout. so...

since we already had a playdate planned after school pickup, i strong-armed mama andy (i brought out the big guns. you know, cheese, olives, chips!) into donning some 'heir pieces', hoping to get some good shots for my website.

this one in my favorite...
i know, i know. doesn't so much showcase my work. unless my work happens to be raising a delicious little sunbeam. which it is not. my work happens to be raising two delicious little sunbeams. here is the other one...

yeah, i didn't actually sew today, but i did drop the kids to school. and i picked them up. not only did i pick them up, but i was there early, and got to show my face... be a bit of a presence at my children's school...i couldn't do that two weeks ago, before i was laid off of my 9-5.

time with my kids? after years of feeling like i was the most horrible of all creatures..an absent mom... that is a ray of light..

oh, yeah...then of course there were the two lords of the flies that somehow found their way into my back yard.

is it only my kids who wind up in some state of undress at every playdate??
anyone? anyone?
we did finally manage to hose them down and corral them inside for some aaarrrrg...

pirate's booty before c.p.s. was called. phew.

for charlita

2009-07-07T00:24:00.002-03:00

it was one of those days when i don't so much feel like it's earth that i'm traversing, but something a bit more...inchoate...nebulous? and it's not air that surrounds me. it's swampy. like i'm moving through water.

yes...i'm swimming today. i'm leaving everything half finished.
things are a bit
unfocused
as if i'm peering through the veil

i can't quite hear correctly and my responses are slow. it started yesterday. okay...first the alarm, breakfast, teeth brushed, lunches, etc, etc, etc. completely mundane.

i walk out the door with the two 5-year-olds on our way to school, la la la. there are two girls on their way to school looking over their shoulders sorta funny at the tree pit in front of our house. and when we get to our front gate, i see that there is a pit bull curled up, sleeping maybe...twitching definitely.

in our tree pit

of course i'm scared to get too close. i don't want the kids to get hurt. i want to get them
out of harm's way...i want to get them to school. so i wake up the man (who is of course still
sleeping), and ask him to please call 311.

i return home after dropping the kids off and there are a cluster of neighbors in front of the house, commiserating, keening, performing various elegies over this dog that certainly seems to be leaving this dimension, and they are talking about how they they heard the dog wailing after getting hit by a car last night.

you didn't do anything, call anyone, step outside to take a look when you heard the dog, get hit,
last night, and now you're moaning about it?

excuse me?

i'm completely rattled and convinced this is some sort of horrible sign. i pull a book off the
shelf and look up totemic dog references...well...uh, judaic mystical...oh man...my brain is leaking out of my ears. just trust me. i look up 'dog' and this is the first thing i read;

'our sages taught-when dogs howl, the angel of death has come to the village.'

what?! didn't i just say my brain is leaking? i'm tired. i'm too tired. i don't want the angel of death.

a few hours later i realize.. this murkiness is just how i felt when daddy died. well, not just how i felt...

the insupportable sadness...the sense that the plates have shifted under my feet. one false move could have me careening into some dark chasm...the upending that occurred when one of the most basic elements upon which my universe was balanced was simply, well...

gone

these feelings have receded. but the swamp...it's still here. i'm wading through it.
i'm struggling to swim.

then this morning i open my email. charlita's mom passed away yesterday. oh god. as the angel was howling outside my door my friend charlita was waking up only to discover that

the sky is missing.

and suddenly rivers are pouring, i was weeping.

like i am weeping now.

how often is it that an angel taps someone on the shoulder and they simply roll over and go back to sleep?

i know you are not reading this, just as i know several moons will wax and wane before this sentiment could possibly complete the journey from my heart to yours, but

Dearest Charlita,

In these moments it is difficult to find words, because there really are none.
I never met your mother, but so fresh in my mind is the warmth and compassion
with which you enveloped me when we got our own sad news that cold morning in New Orleans.

A mighty, mighty tree has fallen.

Your mother had to have been a remarkable and deeply loving human being to have raised such an exquisite woman as yourself; lovely, and strong. She will continue to walk with you, as she is woven into your soul.

I am so sorry, my friend. I embrace you and your family.

so, this post is for charlita...

...and daddy. may our parents rest in peace and in the knowledge that they have done splendid

congrats, ty!

2009-07-07T00:23:00.001-03:00

congrats, ty!

my first week in blogland has been a too much fun.

like a seasoned veteran i have stayed up too late, neglected my children, and cursed at my computer

you have welcomed me, left me comments, and added me to your blogrolls...although no one has sent roses or added me to their will as our dear friend requested (after all, it has only been one week)

the faeries and i, nonetheless, hope you have perhaps been inspired. we send a gargantuan thanks and ask that you please keep coming back because

we have no intention of shutting up (or shutting down) anytime soon...

ty..send an address and your cupcake will arrive on gossamer wings...

she-devil, or not she-devil

2009-07-07T00:21:00.003-03:00

i know i am completely biased, but with kids like theseshould i be surprised that nearly every day someone, somewhere asks me if i have ever tried getting them into modeling? now, bear with me...i am not boasting. after nearly 20 years in the fashion industry, and having spent some of those years with a firm that produces fashion shows, i have no illusions about models. or modeling. or maybe even beauty (yeah...right). nor do i feel even slightly responsible for the genetic luck-o-the-draw that created
these little wonders
so, depending on my mood, how much of a hurry we're in, the phase of the moon(and how said phase is effecting my estrogen/testosterone balance), i give a short answer

yes, no

or a long one

well, it really is a full-time job and i already have one, the payback is often minimal considering how many go-sees you must endure before you get a booking, blah blah blah

inevitably, the conversation ends with the well-meaning (albeit nosey) stranger saying something like "anyway, you do have two beautiful girls", at which point my kids giggle, and naf'tali turns to me

"mommy, should i tell them?"
"sure, nai"
"i'm a boy"
every single day

he doesn't get mad, he doesn't cry, he doesn't get into arguments with the big kids in the playground who won't drop it..."you're a girl! you're a girl! you're a girl!"...nice, huh?

given that he's gotten so much attention (which he loves) for having tresses of
truly golden locks
...that would have rumpelstiltskin dreaming of finally being able to retire to that condo in boca...

i must admit i was a tad surprised a few weeks ago, when upon receiving his goodnight kiss, he whispered in my ear

"i want short hair"

?

%*#^&*@*$!!!

that's what i thought to myself, but i pulled my 'never let them see you sweat' trick out of the hat and said "it's late, baby. we'll talk about it in the morning."

the next morning, he didn't bring it up.

phew

two days later, however..."i want short hair, mommy"

"yeah? you do? well, we can talk about it after we have some snack. okay?" and a few days after that...

"i want short hair. sebastian has short hair. and eli. and jack and walker and kainoa. even cyrus' mommy cut his hair".

this goes on for three weeks, when finally

"if i have short hair, then people will know i'm a boy"

oh crap

okay, look. i'm not trying to torment my son. i don't want life to be any more difficult than it has to be, because lord knows it's already a mixed up, mungled up, shook up world. but i'm a bit of a weirdo. and i don't make light of the magic in everyday things. like hair. we all have it (at some point), right? but at the same time, every single culture has stories...has mythology, traditions, surrounding hair
every culture recognizes the magic in our locks

on one hand, there are the traditions that consider a boy's first haircut a necessary and blessed rite of passage. in Hindu tradition, the hair from birth is associated with undesirable traits from past lives. so at the time of 'mundan', a child is freshly shaven to signify freedom from the past and moving into the future.

in a ceremony called boabeylun (sounds suspiciously like 'babylon to me, but i digress), maliku babies' heads are shaven and the hair is weighed against gold or silver, which is given to the poor.

and like contemporary american culture, polish boys once marked the coming of age and a transition to the world of men with the ritual of the first haircut. none of this sounds bad. but then, there is always the other hand...

in many cultures, wearing your hair cut short is a sign of mourning or devotion, i.e. submissiveness(not exactly my cup of tea)

it is said that boys should not have their hair cut before they reach their seventh year or they will lose courage. hair is said to be the center of life and soul...it circles the head; if it is yellow, gold, or red it is an image of the sun's rays and thus

connected to the heavens

in greek mythology, both kings nisus and pterelaos were said to be invincible as long as their magic locks were intact. like samson of the hebrew scriptures, each were conquered when some she-devil shaved their heads while they slept. nice.

apollo, considered one of the most important olympian deities, recognized as a
god of light and the sun
truth and prophecy
archery, medicine, healing, music, poetry, and the arts
and has a twin sister
(yeah)
well, his greek titles mean 'golden haired' and 'never shorn'

so, now i'm a she-devil...some kind of gorgon? chopping off the magic locks of my first born, my only son? causing him to be susceptible to the world's poison arrows and evil schemes?

humpf.

like any reasonable, logical, educated parent, what do i do at this point? duh! i pour myself a glass of wine, take a few ever-so-delicious bites of the wild mushroom salad that my friend alice dropped off on her way to tea, and i consult the faeries.

apparently, they can braid their own hair to make golden fishing-nets to catch magic fish. if you put these nets on your head they become crowns

they also said that the vily (their slavic cousins) are eternally young, their long hair is usually fair or golden, and their life and strength are believed to depend on it. if the fairy looses even a single hair, she will die.

die? oh crap

however, there's some debate about that. some folks assert that a vila will
show their true shape to anyone who succeeds in cutting off their hair...

"right! if i have short hair, then everyone will know i'm a boy!"

but your my little boy. my baby boy, and i don't plan on having another. i'm not ready, and this hair is gorgeous. i mean, have you seen these perfect ringlets?!!
when i consulted with my big sister, she said 'oh, adrienne. just cut it. honestly'

and you know what else the faeries said?

this
too
shall
pass

away
and i only shed
one
singular
cleansing
tear
welcome
to the first day of the rest of your life, naf'tali...
after all, it's not the first time i've been called a she-devil...

we're not in kansas anymore

2009-07-07T00:19:00.002-03:00

this is how i feel today...

here's hoping tomorrow finds trouble melting like lemon drops way above the chimney tops...

reWIND

2009-07-07T00:18:00.003-03:00

oh me, oh my.

1. my computer is beyond ill. it is, well, dead. may it rest in peace. i am still (quel surprise) not in the position to run right out and throw money at the problem. ahem.

2. there is an alarming situation rearing its beyond ugly head within my community, my circle, the place to which i have gone for refuge for the last two years.

3. and then, i heard the news today, oh boy; haiti. all i can say is haiti.

so i dug in my old bag of tricks, and found one of my favorite oldie-but-goodies. a tear-jerker perhaps, and yet a salient reminder that i am blessed. we are blessed. although i don't think it reasonable to dismiss my own issues or sweep today's challenges under the rug, reading this reminded me (reWINDed me) that at least i have a roof over my head, and over the heads of my dear children.

please share it. be well. be blessed.

there are a lot of articles and posts on the web today reminding us of the original
meaning of memorial day; although i am not the person one would describe as a patriot,
i agree it is most important that we think of all those that have given their blood, sweat,
tears, and lives for this illusive, intangible thing we call 'freedom'.

although i didn't dive head first into a full-blown weekend extravaganza, and
there were still dishes, laundry, and screaming kids, i did manage to enjoy my
memorial day weekend.

friday night i went to a barbecue in honor of my friend denise (yeah denise!), who
completed her master's degree in education at colombia university last week.while we enjoyed a candle lit bed-stuy throwdown, i prayed for the souls of all those
who have given their lives in one war or another.

saturday i took the kids for a playdate in beautiful prospect park.
can you imagine this, right here, in the heart of brooklyn?
while my son experienced his first-ever-solo-kite-flight

i prayed for all the little boys who spent the weekend wishing their father were here to fly
a kite with them one last time.

while amzi played fairy paper dolls with her friend ada,
i prayed for all the little girls across the globe, who have lost their moms to war,
and must dress younger siblings instead of paper dolls.

and while she sat by this water fall
i prayed for all those whose wells, streams and lakes have been made impotable by war

this morning we woke up and made beignets. i brought back some mix from
new orleans. as the kids rolled out the dough,
i prayed for the children of the lower ninth ward, whose homes are still a pile of rubble,
although the golf courses were reopened faster than you can say 'laisez les bon temps
roulet'

and as we pressed out stars with our cookie cutter
i prayed for all the little ones, who right now are looking up to the night sky, and
instead of the magical glitter of the firmament, are witnessing the rocket's red glare

and while mine experienced holy deeeeelish!

i prayed for the far too many children who are hungry, with no food in sight.

as i enjoyed the quiet of my house today (the tall person person with the penis who
lives with me took the kids out for the whole day!)

and i experienced my first moment of peace in what felt like a very, very long time, i
thought of my favorite (yet virtually unknown) verse of the song sung by school children
from sea to shining sea...

o beautiful for heroes proved
in liberating strife.
who more than self their country loved
and mercy more than life!
america! america!
may GOD thy gold refine
till all success be nobleness
and every gain divine!

and now as my children sleep i pray, with every cell in my being, that they and every child...

american iraqi
israeli palestinian
pakistani indian
african colombian
black white
brown yellow

...every child, wakes up tomorrow to find that while they were sleeping we grown-ups
figured something out

this memorial day, i pray for peace

(another one) for laura

2009-07-07T00:17:00.001-03:00

this one is for you...

i had another post planned but, frankly, the tall person with the penis is taking far too long doing his part

also, i thought a giggle might do you some good. hope you haven't already partaken ...

and get some sleep!

pick me!

2009-07-07T00:16:00.003-03:00

again, i had another post planned. but we all must keep our prioritorial (just made that up, no applause necessary) ducks in a row. so...

okay, i came across this when i stopped by the panic room, and perhaps it is a bit of a pipe dream as there are like, 40 or 50 comments left on each of his posts, which means he's getting like, a jah-zillion hits a day, and given that we live in a celebrity culture...

(please please please don't take offense, but i can't tell you how my stomach churned yesterday each time i heard someone mention jon and kate)

...and we are constantly in a state of rabid frothing over our (in some cases deserving) heroes, panic room ryan must have his name in the proverbial hat...well, i can't count as high as however many times his name has been tossed in the hat...whatever the number, i can't compete.

my point is

i don't know how 'green' a brand new bike is compared to a second hand subaru, but with this nifty piece of mobile technology i won't have to come up with the $1,000+ to get my car to stop rattling when it's in motion, or making that awful grinding sound when it is not

this bike could cart my kids around brooklyn. deliver my toys. pick up groceries. the possibilities are endless, really

my ass would get smaller and my grin larger as the endorphins kicked in

so, each time you stop by please click on the bike...then come back, and hit it again. as many times as you can stand it, each time you come to visit.

it'll be meditative. therapeutic. i promise...a little bit of mitzvah with your morning coffee

oh, yeah...the really good news is, i don't have to compete with ryan or any of the other blogosphere bourgeoisie, because madsen cycles is giving away two bikes. one winner is picked at random from the 20 cites that send the most traffic

and the other winner will be picked from the gigantic pile of entries in the 'i'm just another faceless blogger' category...that would be me

i thank you, my children thank you, the faeries thank you, the tall person with the penis who lives with us thanks you..well he probably doesn't care so much

but you get my drift...

aloha

2009-07-07T00:15:00.003-03:00

merriam webster says...

Main Entry: in·spi·ra·tion
Function:noun
Date:14th century

1 a: a divine influence or action on a person believed to qualify him or her to receive
and communicate sacred revelation
b: the action or power of moving the intellect or emotions
c: the act of influencing or suggesting opinions
2: the act of drawing in ; specifically : the drawing of air into the lungs
3 : the quality or state of being inspired
4: an inspiring agent or influence

it's been one of those days. or weeks. or lives...

but definitely one of those days when things, each moment is so charged with meaning, so pregnant with suggestion, that i keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see a host of
messengers descended from the firmament
(or at least allen funt)

okay, so...anytime someone learns about my recycled goodies, they are suddenly full of advice. lots of advice. almost always unsolicited...too often unwanted.

please don't get me wrong. i love that people are excited...they are inspired. but this advice sort of falls into the same category as the unsolicited advice in which yourself drowning

(imagine quicksand)

the minute you become a mom. you know everyone means well, and some of the advice is actually really, really good advice...but at the end of the day it is, perhaps, just one more thing to add to your 'to do' list.

one.

more.

thing.

so, lots of sweet people, and lots of well-wishing, and lots of 'you know, you should
really'...

this morning i fastened my seatbelt and started blogrolling as soon as the kids were out the door. i checked for comments on my own page, then read piece of cake (i always read her first). then just eat it... i think that lead me to elizabeth, then praise the mother...

i honestly don't remember the order for certain (i am so sorry i didn't write this part down); in the course of leaving three or four comments, two out of the three or four word verifications ( i am obsessed with word verifications) were maker and bless

maker???

and bless???

go ahead, call me crazy (i'm used to it, sticks and stones) but it made me think of paolo coelho's words in 'the alchemist'...

“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

later i was responding to an email from a woman in hawaii who is interested in acquiring one of my pieces. she offered a bit of advice...

"…you gotta get a site up, girlie! Your stuff rocks! Even if it’s just Flickr or on your blog for right now…too cute!"

then i noticed some movement outside my window...

a fluttering by the bicycle which has been rotting, chained up to our fence. i planted the basket with flowers (much to the chagrin of the tall person with the penis who lives with me)
i guess the purple flowers are irresistible to monarche faeries

after i ran outside (in my pajamas) to capture the moment, i returned to my computer, sat down, and set up a flikr account. my word verification was

aloha

so, aloha kennesha...thanks for your sage advice. the universe is conspiring. perhaps you will do something to forward your cause today, too.

for everyone who has suggested i open a store on etsy, there's not a whole lot on there, but it's up. in the meantime check me out on flikr.

and there will be more to come

much more to come...

beauty

2009-07-07T00:13:00.001-03:00

today's project was a challenge; i decided some time ago to make a hair adornment for a rather miraculous woman. a queen.

she is brilliant, an internationally respected artist. she will be married in a few weeks, and i have imagined one of my pieces in her hair...maybe for an event surrounding the celebration. i began the process with more than a bit of trepidation, as i don't know her well.

i tried a little jump start; by the time i had entered the first 4 letters of her name into the window of my search engine, a string of suggestions popped up...

wangechi
wangechi mutu
wangechi mutu bio
wangechi mutu pregnant

okay. i have pictures, beautiful pictures, my belly stretched to the limit of fullness, pregnant with twins. my sister took the photos.

wangechi and her pregnant belly were photographed by annie leibovitz for the april 2009 vogue 'shape' issue. perhaps it should not matter, but it sort of made me wonder who, exactly, do i think i am expecting that she would wear something of mine?

i started by sketching a sort of earth /moon mama, with a couple of my most present totems

the first time i met her i was not familiar with her work, though i had heard a story or two about her; she and the tall person with whom i live went to school together. i tagged along to a barbecue at her home a few summers ago, and i was immediately smitten. the kind of smitten that had me worrying the hem of my dress, and had stolen all words from me. i managed my duties with my children... for the most part. at some point my son, three years old at the time, made his way up the spiral staircase in the backyard, which leads to the upper patio. he was sort of leaning over the banister (in full view of the entire party) by the time i got to him.

i was mortified.

later, i went upstairs to see wangechi's studio. i crossed the threshold into truly sacred space. a secret garden. and i wept.

i wept.

there were immense canvases. women. bending, twisting...misshapen? birdlike chimeras.

gorgeous.

there was paint and ink. pages torn from magazines. sequins and glitter. all these women. and they were looking at me and they were challenging me to look at myself. extreme poses and extreme proportions and somehow in their extremity and distortion, all the more real.

i wept at how safe i felt, in that space. all around me reflections of my (ourur) perfect imperfection. chaotic and exquisite and violent with power.

cut shapes from felted sweaters according to my sketch

the next day i shared (what i was able to) with a friend. she expressed having had a similar experience on a trip to the m.o.m.a.. that night she sent me a link to the artist's work that elicited the same sort of tide of emotion from her.

of course the artist was wangechi.

today, as i worked i thought of all this. and i thought of the cobalt blue braids she wears in her hair. i thought of her baby's eyes bright and full of wisdom. i thought about the polka-dot dress (of which my daughter has yet to cease speaking) that she wore to her baby shower.

maybe some feathers to get the cobalt blue and polka dots in there?

i wondered what her wedding will be like. 'rachel getting married' came to mind; a nuptial kaleidoscope. la strada...only in color. delicious, eclectic music and people. a pentecostal spectrum of languages and accents. and happy happy happy.

first machine and hand embroidery, then began the beading

i thought about my own wedding, the joy and hope. how we spoke our vows as u.s. troops marched into iraq. how our hearts wrestled with the timing of it.

i mounted the whole piece onto this gorgeous indian silk plaid leftover from the pants i wore for my wedding

i thought of wangechi's grace. her generosity and hospitality.

i wondered when...if...i will ever contain my ego and recognize that this woman (in front of whom i implode, fold in upon myself) is just as much a reflection of me as are her collages. if i will ever manage to complete a sentence in her presence. why i fail to accept that i am no less than she. it is dubious that i will experience the recognition, shoulder the admiration which is part of her journey. i don't know that i will ever fine-tune...ever know my work the way she seems to know hers.

her well-deserved success aside, why do i believe that i am less worthy of the air that i breathe, of the very space which i occupy than the next person? why am i able to see such heartbreaking (and heart opening) beauty all around me, yet not inside me.

who did this to me, and why do i continue to do it to myself? as i work, i pray that i do not pass this on to amzi. she has my nose...the crease that slides across her brow when she concentrates is all me, but please dear god let her know her own beauty.

please.

that was the moment when the most haunting song came on the pandora stream...'alli en la reina, dolor'(here, in the queen, pain). and i began llorando. otra vez.

the tears cloud my eyes, and i can't see my beading. the stitches start going wonky. but rather than stopping, i sewed faster. the sequins around the belly button fell a bit out of line (like the sequins scattered on wangechi's studio floor) and the blanket stitching around the belly looks a bit like the crooked reminder of a cesarean section which awkwardly stumbles across my once smooth tummy.

she looks like a woman who has been through a tumble or two

and instead of admonishing myself while i ripped out the stitches, convinced she will never, never, ever want to wear this or anything that i've made...

i thought to myself that the bent, twisted stitches, and the meandering sequins...may very well be wangechi's favorite part.

i'll wait to attach a hairclip, chopstick, or comb in accordance with the wearer's preference.
and i think she still needs more blue. more cobalt blue.

for fashion annie

2009-07-07T00:12:00.003-03:00

not the most glamorous wardrobe choice, but this pic documents the time she insisted on applying 'lipstick'
before she would let me photograph her wearing my hair accessories...

perhaps annie, mia, and amzi will grow up to be the founders of D.A.M.N
(daughters against mom's non-fabulosity)

slow down

2009-07-07T00:11:00.003-03:00

today should have been any easy day. or maybe fun, exciting, if not easy. today was nai and peanut's end of the year trip to the botanical gardens. ooooh, how i was looking forward to it. celebrating their first year at school...how they blossomed, how it just whizzed by.

there were so many days, so many events i had wished i were able to attend, but always a conflict in my schedule, and never a good idea to miss the hours of work and the much needed,
always needed, money those extra hours brought. but now that i am among the many (many) newly unemployed, i have the opportunity to drink up the crescendo of playdates, picnics, and school trips that are coming to a symbol's crash as people prepare to scatter to the four winds until september rolls around again.

but then, today.

i woke to a text message from a fellow mom desperate for an extra pair of rainboots in a size 9 or 10. it's pouring rain and we are going to the gardens today, and i am chaperoning. i don't have extra rainboots, but what i do have is 48 minutes less than i need to get us out the door, because for some reason, this is the day that my alarm clock doesn't go off. okay.

we get no further than 3 1/2 feet from the bed (the kids joined me, kicking out the tall person with the penis that we live with at some point in the night) and nai starts coughing, and gagging, and finally puking in our gigantic sick bowl. okay.

i won't bore you with the politics, negotiating, and mind-changing that went on for the next 25 minutes, but nai eats two bowls of cereal and seems to be just fine, and is most definitely very excited to go to the 'mechanical' gardens (amzi would like you to all know the proper pronunciation is 'motaniniaco' gardens, but, anyway).

so we slide into our rainboots, don our raincoats, in the car, drop the tall one at the subway, drive 3 1/2 blocks, and there's the gagging again and the two bowls of cereal are all over the raincoat and the carseat. okay

i think most of you are moms. i don't have to describe what vomit in a carseat means. faux velvet. seat belts. buckles. crevices. you get it.

so, back home, hose nai down, call the school (i can't chaperone, but will drop amzi at the gardens so please wait for us before going in, we will be there). we will be there.

back in the car and start driving, soon to find block after block cordoned off. police everywhere, directing me further and further away from the gardens. from my plan for today. it was supposed to be fun, and we were supposed to be at the garden, but now the car is covered in vomit, we are late, and i just don't get why things are not going my way.

then i see my neighbor greg and ask him what's happening. "cop's funeral", he says. "you mean
the funeral?". then he pauses and says,"yeah".

you see, last week a plain-clothed n.y.p.d. officer was shot by 'friendly' fire. he was a young black man, the father of 18 month old and 7 month old sons.

there is so much i'd like to say, but no (comfortable) words with which to say it. i'm so tired of these stories. so tired of my neighbors being shot in the streets. so tired of the explanations, the excuses afterword. so tired of it not being entirely okay to speak plainly of what these events mean. in my community. where i am raising my kids.

we finally left amzi (happy as a clam) with her classmates, nai resigned to his quarantine(maybe even a little happy to spend the day with mom). although i was sorry to have plans changed on me, i thought it a good opportunity to get a few extra hours of work in. when we returned home, i sat behind the sewing machine for today's project.

you see, it's been a wet spring, so naturally there have been snails in the backyard. lots and lots of snails. one morning last week i took a bunch of pictures, and thought it would be a funny post... you know, show pics of the backyard snails side-by-side with some that i'd made...maybe a couple of snails kissing...a headband, a bracelet. i thought i'd do a search, find a little mythology about snails, it would be sweet, right?

so i sat down and cut out the necessary pieces for 5 or 6 snails; i guess i sort of became one with the tao of the snail, because after several hours i had completed only one. then i snuggled with nai, and took a nap. yum.

tonight as i took photos of the one, solitary snail that i was able to extract out of my feeble crafting oeuvre, it struck me that i don't need to 'google' snail. because there's really only one thing we need to remember about snails. duh. they're slow.

everything that happened this morning slowed me down. and with or without vomit, class trips, or anemic crafting, i woke up with my two beautiful children this morning and i put them to bed tonight. we read stories, they made me laugh, and negotiated their way to having cupcakes for desert without finishing their vegetables.

i'm thinking that if the officer who shot this man down had spent a morning last week in his backyard, maybe he would have absorbed some of the snail's tao; maybe as he drew his gun he would have heard the snails say 'slow down'.

slow down

and maybe our neighbor omar edwards would be tucking in his young, young boys tonight. i'm going
to try listening to the snails and omar, and remember to let go, let god, and slow down.

meet omar the gastropod

it is i

2009-07-07T00:09:00.002-03:00

oh, ladies i don't know. i just don't know.

i had a hard talk with the tall person with the penis who lives with me friday night; i stayed clear and i didn't cry (not in a trying to hide my feelings way, but in a not wanting my emotions to cloud our reality and become the focus of our exchange way), but i sure am crying now. life is so tough. for lots of people.

the song streaming now says yo trabajo sin reposo, and i do. i do work without rest.

i know i am not alone...oh, how people struggle; moms are spread far too thin, and no longer do we meet at the river to wash the laundry beating out our frustrations against a rock and we don't stand side by side and bid the dirt goodbye as it floats away from us down the river.

it may come as a surprise, but we don't even have a river here in bed-stuy.

i keep telling the tall person that it's more important than ever to downsize in every way, to hunker down and look after each other, but it's not happening. i told him that i'm tired of crying and i'm tired of apologies and thought of michelle and thought of kori and told him i'm in no shape to move (again) or to explain to the kids why we are leaving their dad.

they're five. why should such darling little people have to loose two dads before they loose their first tooth?

i'm so, so sorry to drop this sort of stuff on you all, but loosing my own dad, my job, the roof over my head in foreclosure, and now perhaps walking away from someone i wanted by my side from the very first moment i laid eyes on him...in a matter of two months. and dishes and mice and ants.

i keep thinking of the preacher at our little sister's church. last week he began his sermon with the words to a baptist hymn; it is i, it is i, it is i, dear lord, who needs you now.

he went on to speak of job. job who had received blessing upon blessing and all manner of abundance, and then lost everything. how many of us across the planet are experiencing this right now.

he asked that we, that i, remember the source of all things that brought all the abundance the first time around is the same power with me today; the possibility of restoration... of regeneration, is endless.

he talked about remembering to stop and listen for the lesson that might lie in the midst of the chaos.

i'm listening, lord.

i'm listening.

kimchi mancake project

2009-07-07T00:07:00.001-03:00

how is that 23 years later, a crush is still a crush?

perhaps i should rephrase that (because after a visit today from a childhood friend who also happened to be the boy for whom i had designed, created, and reserved a turkish-opium-den -desert sunset hued velvet cushions, hand-loomed kilims, breeze moving silk curtains, smokey haze a blend of frankincense and hookah-shaped space in the corner of my little 10,11,12,13- year-old heart, the last thing i felt was crushed) and perhaps i should explain myself.

i reconnected with saul a couple of years ago when the tall person with the penis with whom i live told me about burning man. when i looked into the event, my eyes were drawn to a sculpture in the website's margin. underneath was the name saul melman. do you know how many saul melmans there are in the world?

one.

thanks to alphabet deities saul sat next to me in homeroom when he moved to our town in fifth grade and our lockers were next to each other throughout high school. he was the first boy who invited me to a party at his house. in the last 20-odd years since we graduated high school he has become an emergency surgeon to support his artistic habit, explored the planet, and most of all grown to be a very cool Man. thus proving that i was a very wise 10 year old.

adding to his list of Very Impressive Things, he has been chosen by culture push to participate in the genesis project. we got together today to (try to) catch up, and not so much to discuss his latest project, but rather to be it. i won't try to explain any of this in detail for a couple of reasons. first, because the links are there for your use.

second, because when saul came by this morning it seemed that every time we began talking about the artist's residency, the organization which created it, or the fundraising project which he shared with me and my neighbor today, the conversation turned corners, meandered over hills and dales(i was wrong saul), rummaged through childhood memories as well as teenage discovery, illuminated dreams, and became something bigger than the kimchi pancake that inspired it.

which, i think, is his whole point.

at the end of what felt like too few hours and not enough conversation, saul asked us to come up with one word, without thinking, to describe the experience. the 'without thinking' part i can do, easy. i've got that down pat. but the 'one word' part? not so much my forte.

i stumbled, first saying 'embarrassing', which was entirely misleading. then 'too short', which is actually two words. the truth is a whole lot of words come to mind...

rich, fun, inspiring, flirt, imagine, nostalgia, cathy?!, growth, play, participate, provocative, biology, fences(broken and mended), easy, sheep, share, work, actualize, blush, sweet, comfort, return, become, think.

please pick your favorite.

if i had to choose one word (on pain of death or having to traverse another 20 years before connecting again) to describe my kimchi pancake project experience, it would be this:

de*crusha*licious.

renegades

2009-07-07T00:06:00.003-03:00

i washed all the dishes, sent the kids to school, pushed my work aside, had a long visit with my neighbor. last weekend's fear has (for the time being) tucked its gnarled tail between its legs and crawled back under the bed where it belongs. thanks for all the words of enCOURAGEment. shall we move on then?

ren·e·gade (rěn'ĭ-gād') n.
1. One who rejects a religion, cause, allegiance, or group for another; a deserter.
2. An outlaw; a rebel.

over the weekend i checked out the renegade craft fair. the first thing i am compelled to
say, is that it was huge; like the kind of huge that would have laura looking for a little
extra buttercream, but i digress...

kids in tow, i met a few friends (also with kids in tow), and we were so overwhelmed by the enormity (not enough lubricant in the world could put us at ease), that we planted ourselves about ten yards from the entrance, letting the kids run in little lunatic circles until they were panting and begging for shelter. as we readied our retreat, the other moms suggested they watch my charges while i got my craft on.

well, you don't have to ask me twice.

oh the (relative) peace of strolling and of time and of art and a thousand-some-odd-people in williamsburg getting their craft on. there was a lot of great work; of course i was most drawn to folks using recycled materials. in a world where we are encouraged to max out our resources and options along with our credit cards, anyone finding a way to make do (or who do make) with stuff almost sent to the land fill in my humble opinion, deserves the sobriquet renegade...

brian and patrick of wrecords by monkey

these are the boys i would have been hanging out with in some questionable bar twenty years ago, although they may have still been in diapers when williamsburg was polish. clearly these guys have their scene locked down.

they're transforming lp's (remember those?) into necklaces, earrings, rings, and bracelets...the wrecord cuff being their signature piece.

there was a lot of buzz in this booth:

pretty theory

i have to assume the folks responsible are a bit bibliophilic (heh?); re-purposed books and scrabble pieces became earrings, magnets, chotchkes, and purses.

of course as i was standing in the tiny space trying to get a shot of the scrabble chips which spelled out 'princess' some little tyke chose that moment to tweak the composition. i had no choice but to call her every name still visible in the display.

i had actually seen an incredible piece of a tiny cast gas mask on etsy before i had even
left the house; as fate would have it, i ran into the artists who create them.

ball and chain's utensil earrings

so styleee sterling silver silhouettes

their work is a combination of recycled and new production. as i was getting the skinny on what was what, their paying customers needed attention, and i certainly wasn't going to stand in their way.

kat balling of ball and chain with (a truncated representation of) her husband
sorry, i didn't get his name...

kat suggested i find her on etsy and 'convo' her. it made me feel a little naughty. so kat, when you speak of this, and you will, be kind...

i have to give this next lovely lady extra credit.

claire mcdermott

not only is she making real, stylish jewelry with cast-off skateboards, but she took it in stride as i rolled up on her booth and started babbling about how stunning her work was, and could i possibly take a picture. then i took a picture...just as she took a bite of her lunch. she didn't even flinch. i realized what i had done about five seconds after she did, and shot the photo above. i think she was pretty relieved. how much of an ass would i have to be to post the shot of a perfect stranger with her mouth full?

about .08 ounces more of an ass than i am. apparently.

her rings really are arresting. please check them out on her website, as i was far too embarrassed to hang around to get more photos.

i have to give this lady extra credit.

and then, there was final approach. amazing. i had never before seen custom painted and decoupaged suitcases. perhaps due to the rock under which i am living. but these? like nothing else.

beautifully executed, really intelligent, and ridiculously affordable. last time i checked their etsy shop was closed while they take a little holiday. no doubt packed in cases that would make louis vuitton (and stephen sprouse) swoon. bookmark their shop if they're still away. trust me.

the facade of the hunter s. thompson case

inside is a portable (potable) bar

this was about the time i remembered i am still a mother (what to do?) and headed to scoop up
my angels. the most pleasant of surprises met me, as i stepped in to discover the renegade of all
renegades. shall we read it again?

ren·e·gade (rěn'ĭ-gād') n.
1. One who rejects a religion, cause, allegiance, or group for another; a deserter.
2. An outlaw; a rebel.

as i walk into my friend's home, it is in the process of being completely transformed as her husband dennis puts together a show of his work. it was best said by alethea; he wants to turn the space into a whole sort of carnival.

i'll be damned if i don't bring the popcorn. i adore his work.

dennis mcelroy is totally under the radar. no galleries, fairs, no agent. not that he wouldn't be thrilled to have representation. it's not easy to get out and promote your own work. at all. and then putting a price on something that is an extention of whatever that spark is which keeps your heart beating. and the work doesn't necessarily fit neatly into a box. everywhere you turn, you gander at a piece of magic dennis has pulled out of his hat.

what had me beyond dazzled was this case he made with an old fence he rescued from the trash.

the door opens to reveal a cable on which 'Her Queen Majesty Quadapus' can go for a ride. so smart. and so sweet.

watch it in action. dennis went into a blow-by-blow of the contraption that allowed the goonies to
open the front gate without leaving the house...and just as he was getting into it when i accidentally hit the stop button. oh yeah. that's me.

dennis made this jewelry 'case' for alethea which hangs in their bathroom. who wouldn't want one of these?

the opening of dennis' carnival will be in the next few weeks. i'll take lots of pictures. lots of video. and i'll try not to hit the stop button.

amali's first birthday

2009-07-07T00:04:00.002-03:00

today is my niece's first birthday party. her actual first birthday passed a few days ago, so i must apologize on two points, ms moon.

1. that clearly you were in labor with your son longer than my little sister was, because...
2.amali was born on the 9th, and i believe your son was born on the 10th. so i was wrong about them sharing a birthday. i just got so excited when i read the first few lies of your post, that i couldn't wait to finish before expressing my excitement.

i guess that's what happens when you're a hare and not a tortoise(or a snail). in any case, this doesn't mean we can't still be second cousins twice removed, right?

boy , do i ever digress. moving right along...

today is amali's party. i stayed up way too late working last night, and still had to finish this morning. but, i'm really pleased with the result:

each block measures 4" square, is made from my favorite media (recycled wool sweaters which i have felted and then stuffed with the excess wool left from other projects). what you can't see is that the blocks each have the lowercase letter on the opposite side of the capital letter, and two applique images; the 'a' an apple and acorn, the 'b' a balloon and banana, and the 'c' a cupcake and candle (it is her birthday, after all). i also added bells inside the 'b'.

and the carrying case:

it's made from plastic shopping bags, which i fused with an iron. i then added a twill tape handle and embroidered 'amali's first blocks' up the side. the process of transforming the bags into 'fabric' is pretty easy, but please do not try this at home before checking out a tutorial.

i'll be sure to take lots of pictures of the happiest baby in the world receiving her gift.

have an extra happy sunday!

dueling banshees

2009-07-07T00:01:00.002-03:00

i don't know if three whole days of summer vacation has gone to her head, or she has picked up some tropical disease (we did spend the day in park slope yesterday...), but my normally reserved little girl has clearly lost her natural mind. for those of you getting aquainted with her cousin mia, you may note the family resemblance.

talk about boom boom pow...

and to not be outdone, bubba takes up the challenge...

wangechi getting married

2009-07-07T00:00:00.002-03:00

just before bed, the peanut sat herself in a corner of my office, and made the following declaration...

'i am the queen of nothing! in my kingdom, there is nothing'!
nai tried to join in her game, 'and i am your king!'
'NO! i have no king. there is NOTHING in my kingdom'.

now, i suppose i could read a lot into her statement...perhaps she is mirroring some sort of emptiness she senses around her. perhaps she is recognizing her sovereignty even though she has yet to amass worldly possesion. in either case she offered a perfect balance, the yin of tabula rasa to the yang of abbondaza which was wangechi getting married...

saturday afternoon a bus picked guests up at the foot of the brooklyn bridge and drove us out to westhampton. as we disboarded we were directed to follow a path of flowers to the 'art barn', a veritable museum in the woods of a private estate, for cocktails and visual provocation.

the tall man and i both had to pee, and we discovered we were not alone. these two had beaten us to the facilities.

i wish i could tell you who the artist is. i wish i could share a funny anecdote about how the artist and the collector came to the decision that the very best place for the work was in the bathroom. but i can't. because from the moment we stepped into the loo, i was mesmerized.

i was unable to speak for some time. i strolled around the barn, which isn't really a barn at all. the space was amazing...

i loved this piece that pulled at whatever is ancient in me...
and this one
it was 'the thousand and one nights'. each vignette written on tiny scrolls in the original arabic; each story a tiny paper bead, the strand suspended from the ceiling then coiling on the floor twenty odd feet below.

to be completely honest, a lot of the work surrounding me simply reminded me that i was traversing uncharted territory; i was a foreigner with a temporary visa to the world of contemporary art.

these were hand-stitched and quilted sides of beef. as a fiber artist, i was completely moved by the craftsmanship. as a freak of nature i thought it was insane and amusing.

but as someone who wants to support her family with her handiwork only slightly less than i wish to see us hand a cleaner, more peaceful world to the next generation, i have to say, 'what the...'?

i can only imagine what these pieces translate to in terms of cold, hard cash. i guess that's crass. i guess i have revealed myself to be a complete neanderthal. all i can say to explain myself is...

'ugh'.

and i don't mean the boots.

although the poetry here was not lost, even to a cavewoman such as myself. the tall man with the penis...
...and the short man with the penis.

(read what you will into the relative proportions of the two and their appendages)

after cocktails (pun recognized, though not intended), we were once again encouraged to follow a path of petals to the tent which would house the main event.

perhaps tabernacle would be a more fitting term. it was palatial. this is the view of the 'big house' from the tent...
this is the tall man in front of my favorite of all the creative works; a fallen 'nurse log' in front of the long island sound .

i wonder how long it has graced the property?

serge spitzer's 'treework' shielded the tent. a graceful umbrella. it actually let in the rain, while feeling like an antenna/observatory to the firmament.
and once inside the tent itself...

magic

light
and dancing girls

we have footage of the women in mario's family formally requesting that the women of wangechi's family accept mario's request that she become his wife, as well as a member of their household. one of her aunties called out a chant and the rest of the women would respond. they processed from the big house dropping palm fronds in front of wangechi, as her feet were not to touch the ground.

it was the most moving part of the ceremony. so intimate that i don't feel right posting it.

but you can imagine it, right?

the tall man
chatted with the host as wangechi received gifts from her aunties.
the cake melted along with our hearts and the rain and the night.

all in all a reminder of an incredible abundance, ripe for the picking from the tree of life. where is the abundance in your life?

reWIND

2009-07-06T23:58:00.005-03:00

i wonder who will find me here.

enjoy!

please excuse me if everyone has seen this video already, but michelle's post left me wanting to do my share to part the clouds and help usher in a new day.

rest

2009-07-06T23:57:00.002-03:00

okay... i realize eulogizing the king of pop is no little thing. he came by a road which diverged in the wood, and in my opinion, he took the wrong one.

something went terribly, terribly wrong.

but there was a time when he made us dance, and he made us smile. there was a time when black kids had someone who went so far beyond 'someone to look up to'.

i don't know what happened to him. i shudder to think what sort of spirits took control of the blessed child he once was.

so, i'm going to lay ill feelings aside, and remember the joy that this little person brought to us all, once upon a time...

me me me me me

2009-07-06T23:56:00.002-03:00

tagged? meme? darn it all to heck. what the funking funk is exactly right.

1. What is your current obsession?

reinventing myself.

a. i have decided it's in my best interest to go from 'toymaker' to 'fibre artiste'. note the spelling...r then e, and eest instead of ist. provocative, no? makes you want to whip out your wallet, yes?

b. after ms moon's post i popped the tall man's belated mother's day gift in the computer. it's a 'moor hips belly dance' dvd. i figured it was time to work for my dinner (the tall man bought the groceries today, and there's not much he'd prefer in payment than to see me shake my moneymaker. anyhoo...when i took off my shirt my children inhaled in an it's christmas morning and santa was here and there are a million presents under the tree kind of way, and looking at me exclaimed 'mommy! look at your big belly! you look like ganesh! you have a BIG FAT GANESH BELLY!

so, yeah, reinventing myself.

2. What is your weirdest obsession?

what makes anyone think i have a weird obsession? weird...ME?!! nope. nothing weird. and if i DID have a weird obsession, it would NOT be word verifications...

3. Recall a fond childhood memory?

i'm with michelle on this one. trips to the zoo. and also the one day a year daddy swam with us at the club. he'd jump in after playing tennis and let us climb all over him. i remember how hot he felt in contrast with the cool water; his chocolaty skin having soaked up a bunch of sun. the way the water beaded on his skin. and i remember that summer skin smell mixed with the tennis smell. there was a really particular tennis smell.

4. What's for dinner?

tonight? that's like, nine hours away. seriously? okay, it's supposed to include fruits and vegetables which start with the letter 'c'. we're 'eating through the alphabet' as part of our summer plan.

we are fifteen days into summer break and have not yet arrived at the letter 'c'. and we've had carrots, cucumbers, cantaloupe and cranberries (dried) for at least a week. how do the homeschool moms do it? damn.

5. What would you eat for your last meal?

for an appetizer i'd like ceviche from the place on the corner of avenida diez and calle dos (cuatro?) in playa del carmen. then for the main course i would join michelle on 32 secand street at the funny place with the grand piano on the fake cliff waterfall precipice thingy for kimchee pajun and kimchee jayook bokeum. i'd pick out the pork. dessert would be beignets and latte at cafe du monde. perhaps you would join me, nola?

ganesh belly indeed.

6. What's the last thing you bought?

a few dresses from goodwill which are transforming into really cute skirts for the earth-conscious faerie. really cute.

7. What are you listening to right now?

the pages of library books being flipped. 'angelina ballerina' (amzi) and shel silverstein's 'falling up' (nai). and rain, rain, rain...drip, drip, drip.

a rare and sweet moment in brooklyn.

8. What do you think of the person who tagged you?

michelle is a great mom. patient. determined. and she has a lot of grace.

stop laughing, michelle! i mean the kind of grace that allows her to be gracious and graceful with people, and to not alienate anyone. ever. and insanely good at her job.

like to the point where her employers elected to give her an unsolicited raise, because they missed her when we were putting my dad to rest. they started thinking about her not being there anymore. and it scared them to think about not having michelle on their team.

9. If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished, anywhere in the world, where would it be?

three words. MEH. HEE. KO.

but what i'd like even more than that would be to have a fully sustainable house bus. biodiesel. functioning studio. bicycle trailer hitched on back. because tomorrow my answer may not be mexico.

10. If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?

i'd visit my best friend ursula in the hills of washington in whatever bus or tent or treehouse she is presently calling 'home'. and when the hour was up we'd squirt water out of the sides of our eyes (like michelle) and swear we wouldn't let so much time pass before visiting again.

11. Which language do you want to learn?

hebrew. because it's old old old and one of several languages born on an incredible crossroads. i think the precise combination of hebrew words could part a river or conjure up a djinn or change the weather.

12. What's your favorite quote (for now)?

dr. arminson stitched up her wrist wounds. within five minutes he declared her out of danger. chucking her under the chin, he said, "what are you doing here, honey? you're not even old enough to know how bad life gets."

and it was then cecelia gave orally what was to be her only form of suicide note, and a useless one at that, because she was going to live: "obviously, doctor," she said, "you've never been a thirteen-year-old girl." jeffrey eugenedies, 'the virgin suicides'.

13. What is your favorite color?

i've never met a color i didn't like.

14. What is your favorite piece of clothing in your wardrobe?

harem pants. pumpkin orange with ankle bands in a muli-color stripe. they're made out of tee-shirt weight cotton knit and i've worn and washed them so much there isn't even enough fabric left in the crotch to stitch them back together. again. so i have to wear them under dresses. and i'm happy to.

15. What is your dream job?

personal chef for manu chau. i was going to say 'translator' but he speaks, like, eight languages or something.

16. What's your favorite magazine?

magazine? magazine? we don need no estinkin magazines...but if i have to answer, parabola.

17. If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?

a pair of shoes by cydwoq. although they would have to be on sale, because you can't gey a pair of shoes by them for $100.

18. Describe your personal style.

My Personal Style: act one scene one takes place in the local coffee shop.

employee: hilary! there's someone here to see you.
hilary: who is it?
employee: your friend. the nice lady who wears all the colors (arms flailing in a sort of 'jazz hands' way up and down her torso).

19. What are you going to do after this?

children's museum. did i mention it's raining?

20. What are your favorite films?

amelie. hero. superbad. lord of the rings. idlewild. singin' in the rain. cinema paradiso. forgetting sarah marshall. msr ibrahim. pan's labyrinth.

21. What's your favorite fruit?

mango

22. What inspires you?

my children and music. together or separately.

23. Your favorite books?

song for night. angry black white boy. the red tent. red earth, pouring rain. the alchemist. lovesong. the baron in the trees. the god of small things. magic of the ordinary. the bible. in the skin of a lion. coming though slaughter. the known world. the hero with a thousand faces. the prophet. did i already say song for night?

24. Do you collect anything?

yes. sequins and stretch marks.

25. Any advice that's some from bitter experience?

listen to yourself, no matter what the world is saying.

26. What makes you follow a blog?

it has to be funny and provocative and inteligent.

i guess that's it except here comes the really tricky part because i think all the bloggy folks i know have either answered these questions in the last 48 hours, or were tagged by michelle. let's see if this sticks...elissa, caroline, elizabeth, and alejandra.

yes, you alex. it's an easy way to write your first post.

you know you want to...

tag it

2009-07-06T23:54:00.002-03:00

on the way to the grocery store we traveled through bed-stuy,

brooklyn's other museum of brooklyn

and williamsburg

into dumbo

the dude company

under the bridge

and into red hook

damon ginandes

where we looked into the hearts of those displaced

but time marches on

imminent disaster

and dances with the artist through the curtains
that their kisses have outworn

post race freight?
must be nice

the detail made me think of
why we are fat

but the best of today's graffiti is right here at home
where our tiny peanut tagged the trashcan in my studio

upon inquiry she explained that it's a princess
of course
standing in the grass
thinking of the prince she will meet someday.

is my baby a genius, or what?

until...

2009-07-06T23:53:00.002-03:00

is it strange that you all have become a life line? that folks so far away...we have never shared a cup of coffee or a glass of wine...should be the people with whom i share my joys and concerns? perhaps.

i won't request answers today. i will try not to stay up until the wee hours pondering all of life's unanswerable questions. as i pack and steady myself for a long weekend with my sisters in maine i will leave you with this:

a kiss, a song, and the prayer that the road shall rise to meet you, and that the wind may be at your back.

until we meet again...