I'm having writer's block.
I could blame Facebook for being too fun, or the economic changes afoot for providing extra challenge. I could blame my adorable family or homeschooling. Or house guests. Or pets. Or the beautiful weather. Or bad allergies of late.
But I won't. I'll just say I'm stuck. It is a moment of transition. Things are still moving so quickly, and I have to remind myself to slow down. Slow down. It's actually a reminder on my phone at three o'clock each day. At three thirty one pops up that says, "Water?". I dismiss them all. I especially ignore the one that says, "Please go to bed. Your body needs rest."
I have lessened my email load, but only by half. It needs another cull. I have to tweak my phone to only sync with gmail within that app, instead of into messages. I'm still losing actual phone messages and texts within the barrage of "me too" emails some lists are prone to, and which I may filter at will from gmail itself, while the Blackberry brazenly loads the lot.
Sorry, did I not say Happy Thanksgiving? Truly, I hope it was wonderful. I hope you are only now emerging from your blissful turkey coma. On a practical note, remember your freezer is your friend, you needn't eat yet another day of turkey dinner, nor let it die slowly in the fridge. You can freeze some for later meals, and have lasagna instead. Or steak. Or borscht.
Later when you pull out the dollop of cran sauce and a bit of turkey, you'll think, "Aha, how clever of me! We can have sandwiches!"
Then you can get back to: please clean the hamster cage, have you looked at the assignment, clear and set the table, why are your shoes in the living room, please be sweet to each other, take off your heelies in the house, I think you meant to say, "yes, Mommy," no you may not have something else because you've now decided halfway through the pie you didn't like it, come outside with me to see the seedlings, you have clean laundry in my room, darling I wasn't trying to insult you with silence I'm just reading something right now, no baby, pie is not dinner, I love you too, I don't know where you left the needle nose pliers, my needle nose pliers, yes you may, but only for an hour, please let Stella out, please let Stella in, could you please feed all the furry beasts, what a good idea!, check the oven, a shower might serve you well, take baby too, yes, yes you must, if you make her cry you'll just be showering with a crying baby, no I haven't called so-and-so yet, no I haven't had a chance to read the article, no I haven't answered the email, eat this it's delicious, I'm sure you're right, thank you, I'd love some more coffee, you might want to eat before we go, have you packed water, just give me one more minute, I can't right now, let's eat dinner while it's hot, gesundheit, why are you not ready for bed, that's really funny!, I'm on my way, I love you, my God is that the time?!
Choices. So many opportunities. Balance. Mindfulness.
If the hamster is as busy as she is, it must be late. Time for bed. After I put all the food away, wipe down the kitchen, check the children and locks, count cats, turn off the lights and shut down the computer. And find baby is awake next to her sleeping Daddy. Breathing deeply, finding sweetness, slowing down.
I was productive today. I sorted through the last bad office boxes and trashed tons of it. With a pulled muscle in my leg, mind you. It took hours. There are only the good boxes now, which are worse, because they're not mostly to toss. And we made a next phase plan for more bookshelves, proper curtains in the bedroom and office, and proper closet space, of which this house has none. And it rained and rained, which is very unusual this time of year. All of the plants were singing. No measly hose, no, an all day soak. Luxury.
How can I have such blessings and feel like I have no time for meaning? Is the transition within as much as without, so that what had meaning before has changed, and something new is needed? Or a rediscovery?
I have missed the contemplation of writing. I have missed the knowing, the indirect energy of you reading it.
I will take pictures of my new Earth Boxes and post them. It will be fun.
Sunday, November 30
I'm having writer's block.
Saturday, November 8
It was a sad, slow marathon, and I don't feel at all like I did after the Olympics. I feel like taking money off shore. And very confident that the arts are going to do well. I can't wait to see what happens with fashion. I'm not being cynical. I'm totally serious.
There is a tiny, multi-culty liberal somewhere inside me who is elated, and doesn't mind the socialism. It is persistent, and occasionally seems to gain real estate like plastic bottles in a landfill. But I keep it at bay by reminding it that all politicians are crooks who will throw my money around like it's not theirs, on projects of which I do not approve, more or less. Only the flavor and level of regulation change.
I feel about the wonderful people I know who are gaga for this guy the way I feel about Jesus nuts. I wish I had that. I feel jaded. I feel like the ra ra is always for someone else, and that's why there are vodka and corn chips. So we can pretend. I just can't get excited about politicians. Or messiahs. But I can get excited about really excellent fashion coming off the runways in the coming months and years. And I can get excited about new art movements. And foreign investments.
I'm all for cheap thrills. I like cats and ice cream and water slides. I like swamps and mountains. I like driving fast. And I love, love, love emerging artists. Take me to your studio and give me your spiel. (I so miss that about the city...)
But I also like the finer things. So a handsome, arugula president with foreign sensibilities is not completely awful for me. I'm fortunate enough to have options, so it doesn't matter as much to me. In fact, I'm tremendously relieved to have the fodder as a writer, and to be let off the hook for having to defend nitwits. It's selfish, but maybe I'm ready to be juvenile. Maybe this whole personal responsibility thing is getting old. Maybe instead of being objective, I just want to objectify and have a little sexy for a change.
Perhaps some of the hot-house nature of Obama resonates for me. He's not like other people. His story makes him different. He's the charming thinker who turns his mild and youthful sociopathic and anti-authoritarian ideas into socialism, and in a postmodern stroke of genius becomes The Man! From which position he can then begin to weed the garden of capitalist splendor that is the U.S.A. of it's older, more established, more demanding tenants. Except they're more like rather zippy Ents, and just get on with it for themselves without waiting for an invitation.
Don't get me wrong, I don't think McCain would have been a picnic. I think he was, at best, something of a compromise for everyone. Hence the election result. He was the anti-passion. No matter how strongly he felt, he couldn't compete with the charismatic presentation and vim of Obama. He was no Reagan wit, no showman. It was over before it started. No cardio-Palinary resuscitation was going to do it. That's what we get for not having a position. And if Republicans did actually have a position, they might lose the likes of me, I suppose. See? No decisiveness.
Forget it. We're doing socialism now, so maybe we can get on with the fluff. I give you my recipe for delicious
Pink Passion Stuffed Delicata
Halve and scoop as many delicata squash as you want, set aside, steam enough brown and wehani rice (country-something blend?) to almost fill them. Gently saute some chopped red onion in walnut oil while you roast some halved almonds in a 200 degree oven until they begin to turn golden (do not brown!). Once the onions begin to soften, add quite a bit of sour orange juice (naranja agria, in the Latin section). Cook it down a bit, add the almonds, some goji berries, chopped parsley, a little chopped collard greens and more juice. You want it to be wet enough to get the rice wet. When the collards have become tame, stir in the rice and check the salt and sour orange balance. Oil and stuff the squash halves and bake at 325-350 in a baking tray with some water until squash is fork tender.
This recipe is vegan, exotic, and packed with super now multi-culty protein. Has a lovely pink hue offset nicely by the greens, which while money-like, are evenly distributed so shouldn't offend most guests. Enjoy!
Sunday, November 2
A wonderful game with children, or anyone looking to relax and be appreciative.
Anci Ganga's brief time here, my dearest busy B and biking, community and cilantro, D darling and DIY,
my new Earth Boxes, family & friends, gardens,
hearth & home, indigo, juice, lovely K and kirtans,
laughter and drop-leaf tables, music and modern art, the 'net, octopus--both alive and on my plate,
pie and Pandora, and of course poooodles, quiet spells, rain and when it goes away, Stella pup and sunsets,
T's love and terrazzo, urban jaunts, velvet, wasabi
a sharp axe, yoga, the zoo, of course!
Now you do one! I love to hear them...