Knock Knock

"Who's there?" You ask.

Cantor.

"Cantor who?" You query.

Can't organize my thoughts.


Ba-dum-bum...

Well.


While my artistic Muses seem to be running rampant lately, my writing Muse appears to be gone on holiday. My head is too crowded to come up with something cogently philosophical and witty to say. So, I apologize for my recent blog hiatus. 


Hey, here's an idea. Give me some topics. Share your favorite quotes with me. G'head... push me into the water. Dare ya! Or, maybe you're just as happy to have one less thing to read... *smirk*

Betides the Present of the Past

It's a glorious morning. Sugar-candy frost coats all the bare tree limbs and blades of grass, the snow-covered mountains glitter like crooked teeth as the sun tries to break through the heavy fog. Here we are in the crisp, cold days of December... and I'm in a holiday mood. Yes, me. No one is writing this for me... still Barb here. And no, I haven't been in the 'nog... yet. Crazy and contradictory as it sounds, for the first time in nearly a decade, I feel like putting up a Christmas tree, hauling out my Christmas sheet music and plunking away at the piano, making and wrapping fun little gifties for folks I love.

No, I haven't turned religious. Rest assured, I'm still the irreverent polyathiest I've been all along. It's just that... well... I feel... uh... I feel... festive, dangit! I know some of it stems from my current feelings of well being, amorous euphoria, and all around jois de vivre.

I think much of it has come from reconnecting with people from my past that I had considered long gone. Some are people that I somehow made an impression on 25-30+ years ago. Back when I felt that I was anything but impressive. It's just weird. I've had people "friend" me on facebook and say, "Oh, I remember you... you were the one who...(insert something positive here)" or "It's nice to be in contact with you, I always wanted to get to know you better." Really? Seriously? Even when I loathed myself enough that I tried to run as far away from myself as I could get? Even when I felt completely worthless? What was it I gave to anyone back then? What good could have possibly come from all that negative energy? When I look through my backwards glancing telescope I don't see the girl they saw. All I see is a sad girl lost in turmoil, raw suppressed feelings, anger and sadness. I'm not looking for answers and definitely not looking for compliments. It's just a bit of a marvel to me. While I always hoped for something better, I wish I had been able to actually enjoy those years more. I wish I had been more relaxed about... everything. I would have been dynamic.

Sure, I feel more than worthy to be anyone's friend these days. I like what's become of that girl. Thirty years later, I see myself as a caring, loving, funny, fun, creative, and intelligent individual. I'm not perfect, nowhere near it, but I sort of laud my flaws (or at least just give them a wry nod) rather than castigate myself for them.

What's my point here? I wish I knew. It seems to come back to my idea that one never knows how or when one is going to impact another person's life. We can't see into other people's memories to find what impressions might or might not have been made. Being a part of someone else's memory and being made privy to it, well... it's like opening a gift. Sure, sometimes it's a Pandora's box of rather startling, slightly discordant, and fairly surreal bits of things, but still a gift.... kind of like getting eulogized before you're too deaf to hear it.

Yeah. A gift. Sort of puts me in a festive mood.

The Long Sweetening

"You know what Granny used to call molasseys? the long sweetening. Reach me some of that long sweetening, honey, she'd say at the breakfast table. I can hear her now."

~Fair and Tender Ladies, Lee Smith


Long sweetening was so called because of the time it took to cook and stir the cane into syrup, and also because of the way the flavor lingers. When new, the cane is sweet like white sugar, but when slow-cooked over an open wood fire down to the deep sulfured pitch that we know as molasses... long sweetening. Southern folks used it to sweeten their coffee (and some still do) and poured it on biscuits instead of honey or jam.


We had a wonderful (and delicious!) Thanksgiving weekend in Port Angeles with Steve's family. I really enjoyed meeting them and spending time with them. While there, Steve and I spent one evening parked across the inlet, below the rise of Hurricane Ridge and the glittering teeth of the Olympic Mountain range, watching the city lights twinkle on the water. We could hear the breakers pounding like thunder from the Sound against the beach behind us. It was beautiful and peaceful... and it gave way to an "Aha!" moment. I realized what the difference is in my relationship with Steve. It's not just that I love him, but that I love being with him. I have always wanted someone just to be with... and he makes it so easy, so comfortable, so.... inviting. It doesn't matter if we're doing something fun, something mundane, or even if we're absorbed in our own projects at opposite ends of the house. It's good just to be together. And when he holds me? Well, the rest of the world just disappears.


On Friday Steve and his brother went fishing. I spent much of the day talking to Bob (Dad). We talked about everything, but mostly what it's like to loose a mate. He revealed a man who refuses to be immobilized by the grief he still feels over losing his wife (who died nearly two years ago), but who isn't sure how to proceed (I could relate). He also revealed a man who has such deep love and respect (and hope) for his sons that it was breathtaking. The finest symphony will never compare to the beautiful strains I heard that day. What a lovely man. I'm honored to have shared tears with him.


I feel a deep stirring within me, as if something that has been cooking over a low fire is now ready. It's as if, all my life, I've been sweeping the wooden paddle through this vat of goo and it's finally reached a perfect point of richness, of stickiness even, of something that's worthy at any table. This part of my life is the long sweetening, that acrid rich, sticky-sweet flavor that cannot be ignored, denied, or resisted. As if I'd want to. Reach me some of that long sweetenin'.


"... I said to myself, Ivy, this is your life, this is your real life, and you are living it. Your life is not going to start later. This is it, it is now. It's funny how a person can be so busy living that they forget this is it. This is my life."
~Fair and Tender Ladies, Lee Smith

Black Ink Pad Designs

Will wonders never cease?! Three posts in one day?! Let alone one week? Do not attempt to adjust your computer screen... it's all good! I just wanted to take a moment to announce the launch of Black Ink Pad Designs where I'll be selling the cards, art, and crafts that I create. Please stop by, take a look, let me know what you think, and hey... place an order!

Bonus Round!

I couldn't resist sharing this. My friend Fran posted it on Facebook. Her kids decided to very artfully, in an extremely amusing way, rearrange her nativity. It truly made me laugh out loud. It's one of the funniest things I've ever seen on the internet. What follows is her description. Enjoy!

"Here is what they did to my Nativity. Please note the Bionicle in a Horse Stance on top. He happens to be on his "cell phone" calling his wife. (Josh's MP3) The wise man to the right is "camel surfing" and Mary is in the "Honey Bucket". The mini lego figure next to baby Jesus is the nanny and Joseph is catching a nap up in the loft area on the left. There is also an angel riding on a camel and chasing down another mini-figure who is running for his life. I'm not sure why there is an upside down mini figure hanging where the angel is supposed to be."

Saying Grace

First off, I'll get the news out of the way. The craft bazaar went well. Attendance wasn't quite what was expected and sales were slim, but all in all, it was a good experience. I'm looking forward to doing others... lots of others!

This will likely be my last post until after Thanksgiving. We're heading off to the Olympic Peninsula to spend time with Steve's family. So, I hereby wish all of my dear readers a most wonderful Thanksgiving weekend! Keep it simple, don't sweat stuff, and enjoy the little moments.

Now then.

I have a lot to be thankful for on Thursday (and everyday). A whole lot... health, love, forgiveness, creativity, humor, friendship, good bean, warm knitted slippers (thanks Mom!), passion, snuggling, home, tenacity, courage, bed, laughter, rubber stamps, paper, ink, contentment, facebook, this blog, my fleece bathrobe, a good name... so many other things. Needless to say, I'm overwhelmingly thankful for being so graced to have Steve in my life.

Thursday also happens to be my Dad's birthday. He would have been 83 years old. Dad is one of my muses and my favorite picture of him graces my art studio (along with a picture of Grandma Schmutzer and one of Steve). I am so thankful that I'm his daughter, as daunting a task as that is. I'm forever grateful for the creativity that I inherited from him and for the vision to be able to pursue an artistically creative life. I wish I could sit with him and share my work and let him know what joy I find in it... that the creativity he denied himself lives on regardless.

For the time being, I am irrefutably and gloriously happy. It's been a long time coming, but currently the trail is easy and the scenery is breathtaking. It was worth the effort. Isn't it always?

We only get out of this life what we put into it.

How Bazaar

It's been a busy couple of weeks getting ready for the craft bazaar tomorrow. I'm excited, nervous, anxious... and I think ready (thanks to much love, support and effort from my mate). It's a strange feeling to think I'll be plying my wares to complete strangers. That ol' demon External Validation is really trying hard to finagle his way into the mix. I've been having whacked out stress dreams all week (when I can sleep), including one about running a flying cow ranch. Yes, the cows had wings. Yes, the cows, like seagulls, shit everywhere! The chihuahuas from the night before were only slightly easier (but much more annoying) to deal with.

The weather has been very supportive of my Muses. It's been raining all week long... the kind of weather that makes me want to hide in my craft room except for necessary and frequent trips to the coffee pot. I've never been so productive. Sure, it's out of necessity, but that unstoppable feeling feels good. It's the old adage of the more you do a thing, the more you're inclined to do a thing.

I had a wonderful birthday. Steve treated me like a queen all day - I actually got yelled at for doing laundry! As in, "What are you doing?! Get the fuck away from that machine!" My present from him was scissors... all kinds... big ones, little ones, titanium coated ones, wire & tin snips. I know he felt it was sort of a cheezy gift compared to the 12-string guitar that he initially wanted to get me that I talked him out of (my playing prowess just isn't worthy of a 12-string, plus I have so little time these days), but all the jewels in the world couldn't have made me happier. Swear, I find romance in the quirkiest shit. I opened the box, saw all those scissors and immediately had to fight back tears. I'm never so dazzled by a guy as I am by one who can see a need and fill a need without a word being said. I don't care if all of the scissors eventually get worn down to nubs, I'm never getting rid of them. He also made me steak and shrimp for dinner and took me out to 31 flavors for ice cream for dessert. All in all, it was a fine day.

Alas, I must get busy. I've lots and lots to do before tomorrow... and I hear the Muses calling my name.