m – look!

It’s Jesus, and four apostles. One looks a bit like a hobbit, though he’s more photogenic than expected. I think I like them. Eight (well, maybe nine, considering the hobbit) to go.

 

 

xo,

pen

m,

I took a bit of a trip down Memory Lane in order to find a Before picture of the master bedroom – which, of course, I couldn’t really. The best I could do is this picture of a super-charming 4 1/2-mos old baby with a wall in the background. It’s not the most photogenic room, light-wise, what can I say. As you can see, it used to be sagey green, painted over wallpaper (blech), and above the chair rail, it was off-white and never-painted, at least not in the past 5 years of our occupancy. There were sagey green curtains and blue (borderline offensive) blinds. It’s true. We didn’t buy them, but we didn’t replace them, either. We just accepted them, turning a – wait for it – blind eye. *cough*

While on Memory Lane, I discovered a few interesting truths. In spite of my statement the other day that it all passed in a blink, a lot of transformations happened. I mean, my kitchen used to be blue, really blue, with terrible green countertops and fruit-flower-wallpaper. Now it’s a cool yellow with freshly painted white trim and black granite tile countertops. And let’s not forget the awesomely refaced cabinetry. In short, it looks a whole hell of a lot better than when we inherited it. Also, I know you’ll find this shocking, but K.Lo used to be a baby. N.Lo, too. It’s amazing. And so many of the rooms have gone through furniture rearrangements, and color changes, and I can barely remember living in those spaces, though at the time I have to imagine that it was the way they were supposed to be, and I suppose I was perfectly happy with them. At least until I wasn’t.

So anyway, now the bedroom has been transformed. Gone with the blue blinds. Gone with the wallpaper. Moldings freshened. Curtains switched. Colors chosen and executed. Frankly, there was a good long moment there where I questioned the color choice, thinking this was not at all what I had in mind, in spite of my absolute certainty over it a few days prior. It seemed a color that Hannibal Lecter might really love. But then it dried and darkened, and then the off-white over the chair rail was freshened as well, and it was all brought together. I like it. It’s all sorts of neat and clean and warm loveliness, and long overdue.

 

hiii m,

I’m working on a new theory that the thieves, scamps and other criminals of the world are like the cockroaches of the world. Their existence is unfortunate but inevitable, incomprehensible but there. They thrive in darkened corners, feast indiscriminately on whatever opportunity presents itself, no matter how unsavory… Well, anyway. I could go on. It’s just a theory, and how I think of whomever hacked your email and FB accounts. Which I’m so glad you have back after all, even if you’re now seriously unpopular and sadface, weeping into your watermelon. Temporarily. It’s all temporary.

Addressing a laundry list of items that have irked me forever, such as chipped moldings, outdated switch plates and rusty porch railings, it occurs to me that we’ve been here 5 years, and how can that be. How did it all pass in a blink? It’s just life and The Way It Is, but still. Astonishing. At the same time, how have I had children in my life nearly 5 years? Been done with school for 6? Only have a few years left *heartbreak* with Bailey and Bender? Etc.

Have you ever pondered – I’m just saying…*cough* *smirk* – how Jessica Fletcher, in spite of her unflaggingly curious nature, never experienced even a touch of PTSD, encountering 264 murders? See, this is where the mind of the HSP ventures. And Ash’s “emotional parasol” analogy is beyond brills. Loves.

We’re going on a picnic this evening for church – I’m thinking a big bucket of fried chicken will suffice. And maybe some tater salad. Oh, and a green vegetable of some sort of course. But right now I have to go celebrate my birthday with a  sparkly hat, noisemakers and a cake full of surprises. So says K.Lo. They’re singing to me right now – time to close my eyes and blow out the candles.

xo,

pen

Penfire,

So i was all hacked and what not. I suppose the person who clearly is an agent of the oldman could be reading this right now- May the HolySpirit swoop down upon you and eat your heart.

Anyway you'd think my account wouldve been restored to me by now. But oh not so. I checked and Samuel or whatever his name is, said I hadn't provided enough information and cannot as yet validate my acct...that it is me. It's like that scene in zoolander where will farrel's character is all "I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!" It's like I tried to answer them based on the questions they asked. I spent another 1/2 hr thinking of things to add- emails i'd sent. The content of folders... Frustrating. And even now going, oh yah I forgot I had that folder in there and I could've mentioned x and y. I suppose if they reject my request a 2nd time I'll try again. But then what? Luckily most all my emails I had wanted to save I printed out when i got laid off on the 6th. And if I have to i guess I can start new on FB. WhatEVER! AGH! Amber suggests I send them a picture of me and a newspaper with the words "set me free" on it. I totally should.

It's like creating a new identity. (..... crickets.)

*Sigh* (slump head onto desk).

Anyway i've got like a whole bunch of iced tea to drink and i need to stop buying breakfasts. I managed to swim away some of the newly found irritation and stress and vow to go walking today. It's like yes I have a crick in my shoulder and a pain in my heel but it's like when you rest and it still hurts even though its 'slightly' better, means you just have to go on with your life right? Clearly my new devil is the fraps i keep obsessively consuming venti sized. And am eating entirely too much corn.

In unrelated news I'm writing a list of people who have ever wronged me or felt condemned by. It's going to be good times.

And of course ProRun. Wow. I just watched. Casanova mumbling in true petulant fashion "I think i'm getting fat. . ." haha. Maybe he's just been 'like getting sensitive'. Though i think Tim is being a little unfair on his asthetic. It's like that guy who did all that awesome draping- R?omy? something? and oh man gretchen- if you know your fellow designers can't do something why are you having them do it? what kind of leadership is that? if they're not capable? and wow, she threw them to the wolves after vowing not too. though ivy and her crocodile tears in the beg too much. Michael Kors blenching was classic! oh gretchen... flipping on the runway and then sending michael down the runway. i mean river. ooooh! I loved what Tim had to say. ForSHAME! Loved it. This extended pro run is snarktastic goodtimes.

Which reminds. You know you go snarklight. Totally. Esp in ref to the kiddos. Because you get all HSP man. Remember I got to know you in your unprecedented angry phase. And i liked that girl. What can I say. The strange off kilter encounters (though lets admit to our one or two readers- we exchange letters outside of this forum... being more uncensored and candid than whats appropriate for daytime television.) i also lack right now ... mostly... due to not being around the rest of mankind.

Oh and I told mom that if another email came from me asking all my friends for $16,000 there would be way more expletives also- i mean in addition to telling them to contact the consulate on my behalf and setting up a blog to update my adoring fans.

m.

m,

Can we pleeease talk about the beauty of Casanova’s tantrum? I’m not sure anyone out there appreciates it fully. I want to watch it again, and possibly Gretchen’s epic backpedaling, complete with the judge’s snarky, bemused and wondering faces during judging. Oh, and maybe Tim Gunn’s final speech, one more time. I like this season. I like the 90 minutes. I didn’t think I would, but really I could watch hours of footage if we’re being honest.

There was an *incident* at the park yesterday. You’d be proud that I stood up for myself, although of course later I thought about so many other things I could have made clear(er) and it would have been nice to have been calmer. The pillar of calm in the face of ridiculous, erroneous hostility. But apparently I receive false accusations, especially aggressive ones, somewhat like Marty McFly being called “chicken.” Not well. So there was a little boy smacking N.Lo on the playground equipment. K.Lo notified me about it first, and then I watched him do it myself. There were no adults around that were clearly with this child, much less telling him to stop. So obviously I had to say something to him. I wasn’t mean about it, although I did have to chase him down a bit, since he wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say. I simply said, “Hey, buddy – do you see that little boy in the green shirt? You can’t treat him like that because he’s little. Understand?” He ran away to find his grandma, who incidentally was sitting directly in front of the crime scene. Didn’t hear or see anything else. But then, as they were leaving the park, maybe 10 minutes later, she approaches me and says, “Don’t you dare ever threaten my grandson again.”

What the whaaat?

Hello?

So the Marty McFly “chicken” button immediately goes off in my brain and I see red. I hate, hate, haaaate someone telling me – much less aggressively – that I have done something I have not. But I told Mad Grandma in no uncertain terms that I did not threaten her grandson, would not say anything to someone else’s kid that I wouldn’t say to my own. That I was protecting my little one from being smacked. That it happened right in front of her. (And where was she? is what I should have said.) And she was all, “You should have come talked to the adult first, he’s only four.” Umm – except a) my kid’s only TWO and b) there were no adults stepping in. Should I have gone around and run a survey as to whose child this was? And where’s the 4-year-old getting the word “threatened,” anyway? That one’s sure not in my own 4-year-old’s vocabulary. I’m just saying.

Reassessing later, had I known which adult was attached with the kid, I certainly would have approached the adult first. Obviously. I can see her point in that respect, although I don’t feel like my actions (protecting my kid in a reasonable manner) were wrong. What bothers me most is the aggressive conversation opener. It could have gone a lot differently if she had just asked what happened. I mean, I know I look like a super-threatening individual who would terrorize a 4-year-old. But still.

Grrr.

Conversation closer: “I don’t appreciate your accusing me of threatening your grandson, and you need to have a talk with him about truth.”

So there. Pbbbt.

Do I really not talk enough anymore about bizarre encounters of the world, as you suggested? I must ponder. I’ll be more mindful about sharing my interpersonal snarktastic moments, I promise.

Bought a new, non-citrusy tablecloth for the kitchen. It’s neutral. This weekend: scraping down the porch railing and repainting! And also possibly the shutters and shhhh… I want to paint the front door red. Don’t tell J.Lo. Black porch railing, black shutters and RED door. Kerpow. But that might wait til another day when he’s not looking.

love to you. happy friday.

pen

Dear you,

Granted you've violated my sensibilities but i seem to be surrounded by peekers and cheaters! Though i tend not to read books that are overly sentimental puddles of goo and usually do not need to be wary of being tricked into a meltdown. I avoid pink covers and anything called chicklit also and cannot get too close to most of any Obookclub stuff due to forced popularity. For instance the audio book i just finished (totally need more by the way) had something like 5 or 6 deaths with varying degrees of skeletons, murder and old age but none really induced upset. Except for one, which just seemed unfair but it was just one thing among many. Thats the trick i think. You do have to know what you're in for or be willing to let the book take you where it wants and read as little about it as possible so that it can do just that. Part of the fun of reading is the surprise. I don't want to anticipate a word or sentence or plot twist. I want it to just be. You're robbing the author of what they're suppose to be good at. Leading you out into nothing and creating something wonderful. I cannot agree that its good in anyway to peek at the end of the book. It shows a profound lack of trust but then apparently with good reason it sounds like. So i don't know. I mean especially if one is looking at a romantic comedy and one of the main characters goes and dies on you. That sounds especially ridiculous and would only be valid if it was a cut to old age scenario. The end of SixFtUnder had me weeping- expressing a profound grief for aging, mortality and life and love and all the rest. I can't say I've found much else that upsetting except when Phil that crabfisherman dies. I was a mess. But in both scenarios I knew I was going into something with that express end. Certainly they weren't billed as anything other than what I got- though in both I thought much better delivered than I could've imagined. A letter writing campaign to the marketing dept of said book could be an outlet. I mean I would be enraged. well or eyetwitching. you know- something.

One of my favorite psalms- well its a standard really. Is Psalms 23. And there's a part where it says, "And yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." It occurred to me recently that its not just in a specific moment of being in a valley or trial, but its everyday the Lord is with you... and everyday you may face the inevitable curse of man. It's the tragedy of life. But do we need to address it everyday? I don't know. Definitely not in romantic comedies where only pratfalls and silly but blissful encounters occur, with witty banter I hope and exotic travel. Though in avoiding it does it stigmatize it more- should we let ourselves be carried away to tears and sadness oncenawhile. Is it healthy to sidestep when catharsis might be better? Death DOES come for us all. Such meditations don't really cause me to relinquish my life or spend it regretting, or in a grey wearing daze filled with ennui- as the LORD is with me. Maybe addressing pain and the inevitable would be a better measure then suddenly and without warning? But just as a meditation, not as a morbid obsession or a shutting out of it but just a, ah, yes- i see that and in light of it, must walk in a different way-- those shining days of wonder and magic kind of ways...

Well anyway there's also just enough emotional investment in a day to not have it elsewhere, especially in what you're watching. I've been anti-dramas for a while now, just because I don't want to go there. I don't need to. But I let one sneak up on me everynow and then.

Allright, enough ruminating really. My lips are chapped. Its freezing in here. And its uppose to be 105+ in the valley today. Oh excessive heatwarnings shmornings. I've logged some eerchay leading videos, am 1/2 way thru james/peach, currently hungry and craving... a fruit smoothie. Appropriately. Have not dealt w/ the edd or juryduty summons yet and am about to do research on this watchmaker guy for the thing i'm doing now/farmtown/burndvds.

If i die after having sent the fed ex and before dinner i can't say it will make a good end to my story. But maybe, if spun correctly, as life had just been upon my lips, it will be better read.

m.

m-dash,

I’ve violated some of our readers’ (they exist? perhaps) sensibilities again by looking ahead in the book I’m reading to see if the payoff’s worth it. Because I’m a girl with limited time and emotional energy and I don’t wish to waste it. Nor do I wish to be set up for a fall. Emotional maturity is arguably a factor here; why enter into a relationship I know in my heart will end badly? Right? Needless to say, the result of this peeking-at-the-surprise was not at all what I expected. Or maybe I subconsciously suspected, which is why I looked ahead. Really, I was looking for verification that the couple gets together, and ends up happy, because the book is totally billed as a romantic comedy. Lighthearted, but well-written, a When-Harry-Met-Sally-esque affair.

Except that one of the main characters DIES.

I mean… this is not what I signed up for. At all. And I’m torn, because like I say, the book is wonderfully well-written, lauded by Nick Hornby on the cover (always a good sign), quirky, and British. But, hello: Sally did not die in that movie. Therefore, this book is not the same. And it shouldn’t be the same, it should be different, of course it should be different, but that sort of different is a deal-breaker.

I think.

What to do. I’ve only got 3 days left with the book, and this hemming and hawing is not helping.

But it’s all made me wonder if death as a subject is something that I’m spiritually (relatively) okay with in theory, but not in actual, concrete terms. I mean, maybe it’s something we’re never really okay with in this life. I mean, obviously. It’s one of – or the only? – Big Question. It’s a subject I ponder just as much or more than average birds. And I can read about it… I think. But I have to sign up for it knowingly.

I guess I just don’t take it very lightly at all. Even if I wholeheartedly believe that it (life – I mean death) does end up completely okay in the end, unlike on Freaks&Geeks last night when L said her grandmother saw nothing just before passing away – what’s up with the spiritual vacancy, Judd Apatow, hmm? – it’s just… it doesn’t belong in romantic comedies. It doesn’t belong in the stuff you’re sitting down to relax and enjoy and escape with. Because even though the topic is ubiquitous and looming, I justcanthandleit sometimes. Or don’t want to try.

The number of books I’ve preemptively rejected because of this issue is becoming more than a handful. To which I say, oh well. C’est la vie. Or C’est la death, as the case may be.

Can I get a what-what?

yours,

penelope

m,

I have some sort of hardcore bug bite on my leg – possibly an ant bite? It itches like a motha. And is all swollen. The mosquitoes are vicious even in the face of bug spray, but their bites are small and more of a short-lived nuisance. This is no mosquito bite.

By the way, is anyone really surprised that Tiger Woods is getting a divorce, officially? Who caaaaaaaaares.

I’ve banned myself from realty window shopping until further notice. Or the notice, as the case may be. Because it’s so fruitless.

In the meantime, I’m looking at all the chair-rail trim in the kitchen, hallway and master and thinking that a prior genius painted them all in semi-gloss, and this does not please me. Because they’re all faded, yellowy off-white and need a touchup, but guess what. This will require sanding first. And I do not love sanding, in spite of the apparent lessons it contains, according to Mr. Miyagi.

Freaks & Geeks could not be any more entertaining. We’re making our way through the season haphazardly as they air, but the order doesn’t matter. It’s pure brilliance, pure sadness that it was canceled so soon.

More thunder, more rain. Where was all this when my garden and flowers were dying away?

I bought some extra Sculpey, but they (the Lame Craft Store) didn’t have the color set I wanted, so I was stuck with singles, and they are all wrong, wrong, wrong. Completely not the right palette, and so I’m going to have to go to the other craft store, the Better Craft Store, and make an additional purchase. And hopefully the wrong colors will eventually be used in some future project, perhaps by my Art Dept., who by the way “painted” the deck today with brooms and a big bucket of water. K.Lo’s idea. Love. 

Also: your thoughts on Project Runway?

peace out

pen

yo,

I suppose I need to take a few moments to talk more about CheeRunning. It sort of took the wind out of my sails after all. Not because I’m not excited about running as more of a meditation – which is what I originally wanted – and not that I care about muscling up. Because I don’t really care about that. But it sort of dismisses strength training altogether and without I still feel like something’s missing. So I need to regroup.

Otherwise, it does seem like it will still be cool to practice? I’m uberskeptical of anyone trying to own a form of running and promote as though one invented it – what is that all about? But aside from the hype, it does seem to make more logical sense and again I wonder how our world has taken yet another thing and beaten all sense out of it in a quest to make it faster, more powerful, etc., when simplicity of solution already exists. 

Well anyway. I haven’t exercised other than yoga in like, two weeks. Wee!

This weekend’s been church-filled (nursery cleanup Saturday, the usual today), with a b-day party Saturday evening (rockets were launched), and now J.Lo’s away on his wild blue yonder mission, to return tomorrow. So I made a pasta thing with tomatoes and carrots and onions and lentils tonight, because I knew he’d never eat such a thing, whereas I could eat that dish possibly every night of the week.

It’s thundering just in time for bed. Damn you, thunder. But maybe I”ll be able to watch sometime mindless and girly while playing with clay after all.

xo-

Pen-

august updates (photos enclosed):
here's the happy dancing kingdomtide necklaces. this is the last day before the week and the new first day.

see how awesome color attracts color. it makes one happy.
kerry and i hitting the kogi truck. which is one of the popular trucks in all the food fuss of onthego eateries. it is as good as they say, and having tried at least 5 other trucks this really is the best. this random guy david overheard our conversation and lack of $2 and bought us a taco bcs he didn't want us to have to share a taco. he totally gets the nice guy award.

then on friday here i am downtown getting fabric for the quilt and picking nothing flashy or silk but basic %100 cotton. sometimes you just have to have practical.

sarah and i trying out a new beach in ventura. small pebbly swath of sand. it was a success though we wish it'd been warmer. and we ARE fabulous despite pickle debacles and yes, ive learned my lesson if she asks if she should reapply even though its cool and there's a breeze the answer is YES. she does not have my spanish skin. no, no she does not. i really had a lovely relaxing afternoon. and some natural aloe applications proved entertaining and genius in its photo opps. after that we settled into a bizarre little claymation flick out of belgium to cap a really brilliant day off with a cherry. ah, humid august sky. i never get to see this many clouds. no really it IS a treat to see clouds. you have no idea.

all my love,

m.

Good morning,

So I did actually manage to get the massage. Though we were there till 5. If the producer hadn't been there the AP and i for sure would've taken off by 2. But they were waiting for some dvds and they didn't finish until just then and then it was bye bye office, props to them for actually waiting till 5 with me so i could get them into fed ex... After my new found freedom, I thought about going to see my friend Ivy first but she was in a movie and that gave me cartblanche to be as late as i needed. But first my favorite quote yet from the Sagittarius, "My cat Sauce is in a can." "I didn't want to leave her in the car while i went drinking. It just didn't seem right. So i'm picking her up tomorrow. She's going to join my Rottweiler. He's in a paint can... on a shelf. You know. With like an angel on top and a message saying, one day."

All right.
Enter the thai massage place. I can't say I get the best vibe from this place but it was on a recommend and the woman totally knew what she was doing. And I prayed a healing prayer over us anyway. I could feel her hitting all the familiar points chiros and acu's do as she muttered small words like "tight" and "tell me too much". And all i did was murmor and sigh my assent and marvel at the healing arts. My shoulder has been messed up and kinked for at least 2 months from some night spasm i had the nerve to sleep through. I think it threw something out of place. And it was interesting that on some points she'd be touching points on my lf. back and my rt. knee would start to hurt a little bit. So that I felt I could trace the origins of all my feet and knee troubles. Oh mysterious pathways of the body! Also I was so impatient for her to just get on my back and step on me already. I felt i needed some mushing and kneading seriously. But then patience, patience, patience as she loosened up and aligned everything and cracked my toes and fingers and then she stepped on my back, deliberately adjusting a certain part of my spine, and hitting points I can't say any massage place has ever hit before, especially my IT band as i think she was using her feet to massage along it, and really worked to open up my hamstrings and calves. She was amazingly thorough. Anyway best $40 ever. Is all I'm saying. And in summing I can say it felt more medicinal than luxuriating, but was just what i needed.

So then sometime by 730 I refused Ivys request to bring wine over or rum or anything of the kind as I would've fallen asleep and I'm not the wine buyer. it felt only slightly awkward but I was like eh, no. And the porkchops were delicious, and I brought a salad with a sadly mediocre dressing. At about an hour in I'd run out of questions and it was the first time she actually thought to ask, oh, so how's the new job. (with no followup questions) You'd think after knowing someone for more than 18 years you'd be ok with silence but i've grown impatient and she's grown acutely internal. And I feel her far from me and mostly absent and I can only think, is it time to leave yet? And she throws things out there like I've had relationships with 15 people since... x. That demand follow up but then I see her on an island and we're too far to be shouting. Messages in a bottle might be better. This is the downside of crablike people dwelling for much too long in caves. But then it gives one license to be poetic. Maybe i will begin to send her postcards. And then it won't matter about the Truth of her days, or the accumulated small actions that lead to experience and story. It will just be a shared life of feeling bobbing thru the currents. But you know how much i love story- especially of one being built together. . .

Meanwhile another guy came out to use the bbq in this tiny village like complex and began cleavering a whole chicken with a giant blade- thwak thwak thwak. And her kid intermittently pretending to be a cat and then later a horse as she kicked up her feet at us in the dirt, and then went inside and closed the door. Nevermind later inside, there was no place to sit due to the clutter and chaos, which she acknowledges needs to change. but anyway an 1.half in and i was done.

And almost tearful when a friend called just a 1/2 hour after this, to complain about losing $20 and then the cop giving her a ticket for momentarily stopping in the redzone to look for said $20. But nevermind, she talks him out of giving her the ticket, and so he gives her a no fee fixit ticket instead but somehow this has ruined her night. But i couldn't identify. I didn't have any words left. They were all stacked up and I saw in light of Ivy a profound other sort of blessing and couldn't abide it being a bad thing, this fix it ticket or even the loss of $20. But anyway it was a sign, yet another, of being in need of a nap. But I've caught up on sleep and you know its that feeling of being filled up and taxed and having nothing left for anyone.

We'll see about today.
M.
(oh and pictures obviously. forthcoming)

Good day to you,

We're already angling for an early out today. Me mostly because I want a thai massage, and my days have been solidly booked for the last 7 days, including tonight. Also I'm feeling slightly dizzy, and as a result out of sorts. Having woken at 6 with the knowledge that something was settling in my inner ear. And then being jerked awake, heart racing by my father who stopped in the cavernous hallway to bark in my door way. M! I THOUGHT YOU HAD TO GO TO WORK! Me, having realized nothing was on fire, sat up slightly and gazed at the clock. It was only 8. I slumped back down and said, I don't have to be there till 930. He said OH. And then muttered to Bodo who was curled up at the door, I KNOW BODO, MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY. He then turned away and shut off the house fan and left me. My body now humming and unable to retrace its path from slumber. Lost. So then having plucked chin hairs and contemplated how getting pink eye would be awful and checking email, and what was that weird little blister in my eye, realized that time was actually ticking down. But then i realized anyway who cared if I was late --

And we all came in after 10, anyway, thankfully. Mostly because the EP is on a shoot and not in the office. I also found it completely necessary to shower. Which i swear I hadn't done in a week at least. And shave. And use an exfoliating sugar scrub. I am usually a fan of night showers but I caved to the morning due to just having hit a limit of tired. The accumulated going here and there from 8am-1030pm caught up with me with a vengeance. As in the meeting last night i blurted out very sharply but it IS frustrating! IT DOESN'T just SEEM frustrating. IT IS. And really it could've been about anything, (not just the chain of command or getting things "cleared" even though i said, um hello are we vetted or not? What IS the point...). Because really it was about how the information was being communicated. And tired me of the same rhetoric just sort of snapped. Sometimes you need people to help carry the weight of your grief and not just try and undercut it with platitudes about sympathy and needing God's patience. I was lost for the rest of the evening. I had already previous, posted on my FB that i was feeling recalcitrant. And it was infact a harbinger of my entire fuming mood. I collapsed into myself during prayer and my interior life felt mostly hostile until i calmed down and even then my tongue was making snarky comments about how so and so was wrong and how secretly it would be awesome if we staged a coup or came on with the french revolution. Why not. I was lost to reason and in desperate need of dessert and a nap.

This all brings to mind a prophetic word one of the guys spoke to me the other night about being Deborah and one of the judges. I simply, besides my rebellious spirit, do not understand the need for authority. In that i am mostly self governing and related most to Gods grief when the people wanted kings instead of listening to God themselves. I was sad for Him...So the need for rules and regulations when i think the Spirit will do as guide enough does not satisfy most people. And yet the primary argument of last nights post outburst was we want the people to pray, and some of us don't want us to exist as a 'governing/advocate' body- is there a difference- yes, probably, does it matter, bcs it means that people won't have to take it on themselves if we're there- and my belief, as well as Richard Fosters is that mediators are endemic not only to western culture but to all of mankind. We want interceders, watchmen on the wall, pastors, governors and whatever else. I don't have the article with me otherwise i'd quote directly but we have a need to be told what to do. And though I have lately come under some healing in regards to the menace of leadership in my life, my latent natural self reasserts itself in frank confusion and bewilderment at such bureaucratic trappings- church, not church... what have you. I mean i get it. But you know i really don't. Secretly I cannot grasp the fact at all. Which is why I am better suited to judgeship or the life of a desert monk or some such away from the city place. And i suggested that it was Gods grief this person was carrying and they said, yes but like the prophets of old the people are always called to repentance. And then I and another said but even like Jeremiah you can rail and rail and the people will do what they will and Gods wrath will come and you'll most likely be chucked into a cistern. You cant just dissolve the group bcs you see a flaw in the system.

Anyway the rest of the group were champs. Sympathetic and relating to me softly and diplomatically. Able to articulate and interpret why it is frustrating, what we should do, how we should carry on. And it made me feel so comforted that I really felt I didn't need to be there at all. And thought more than once about getting out of the group. But maybe that is the mistake. You need me hammering on as the other voice hammers on. And it causes a lovely dissoance enough for the music makers of the world to do something really beautiful with it. I don't know. And i take my warning that when you need rest, its not just about cutting ties, and putting roadblocks up but withdrawing slowly to quiet and making no rash judgments in the interim.

More later i suppose. But I'm tired. And there's photo searches to do, and veggie chips to eat and netflix to watch, and lunch to think about.

I hope you are well. And the great room repair of 0'10 is going well. I miss you and the growing up of your kids. I've had not the chance to point out these few crinkly gray hairs i've gotten or the audio book i'm listening to and my love of the gothic novel. But soon and someday. And hugs to you anyway. squuush. and sigh.

m.

m at work,

You’re there! How fancily unexpected. Hurrah!

I finished removing the masterbedroom wallpaper today, but not without snags. I *knew* it was going all too swimmingly. Maybe a 3-foot section under the window (and incidentally above the air vent) had mildew growing underneath it. There’s a reason mildew has “ew” in it. It made the removal more dicey and added in the extra step of trying to clean up said mildew. And then there was a crack in the drywall, that was a fun discovery as well. J.Lo’s going to patch it up tonight and we’ll slather it all with mildew killz or whatever and it will be fine. But it was still totally gross.

You’re speaking, by the way, with Spiedie Fest South’s 2010 Champion. Tied for first place. This year I marinated the little chicken spiedies for five whole days – which practically pickles them letsbehonest – and they came out just as they should. Yum.

And we went to the life + science museum yesterday, of which I’ll likely post pictures on Lo. Co. The butterfly house sticks with me most – butterflies everywhere! Magical. And the weather toys were fun. I wouldn’t mind the hurricane simulator in my living room, for instance. However, the cockroaches, I will leave. Why so many in one container were deemed necessary, I know not, but I suppose it had its effect.

I continue to ponder small towns where the townspeople seem *stuck* or embittered – should these places be avoided? Should one not even try to live there? Or should one assume that it’s a mixed bag of happy/unhappy, mean/kind, smart/dumb, just like everywhere else. And that one carves one’s own niche in spite of it all.

Also, I feel completely unmotivated, work-wise. I might be disillusioned. I have to think about it some more.

So tired. Will perhaps recover with a bit more sleep. And then we have to pick some paint colors for the master! Think light shades of cocoa.

xoxo

pen

Pentilion

Hello, and good afternoon.


I'm here at the workspace again. Tis strange. I need to bring back some of the little decorations besides my post-it notes but shifting gears wasn't that hard. It's still a fairly pickled up move to lay us off for a week and rehire us. But this gig which will be all about elfsay ademay illionaremays should last me right into my trip to seattle. Which is officially happening and i will now not have to worry about - you know. And agh! ($). Sometimes you do have to leap first and ask questions later. And rely on the generosity of friends who don't mind if you trade plane tickets for art pieces. (My godsend patrons).


There's another producer in the mix besides my EP and AP who are Virgos. (It does explain alot actually. Discussed over lunch). And she's very energetic/and medicated. A Sagittarius apparently and dates women who are too young for her. Within in an hour of meeting them an email was sent out and we were all going to lunch together. My first inclination was, am i really included? and then is there a way out of this? Having been skirting anonimity for a while already. But no. I found myself swept along with these women and on the way to an apparently epic pho noodle place. There were near hysterics when the place was closed but i noticed a sign and it was only tuesday that brought the departure of 'start a show get some pho'. (f-uh) or as i like to say -(f-oe). SO then back up to wilshire from olympic and we were eating sushi, talking about udon and drinking green iced tea btw mouthfuls of phili roll and a pile of ginger. And then I'm like yes, I'm a taurus/taurus rising/scorpio moon (jesus follower-which i actually did not say. shit. is what i muttered to myself as i have now seamlessly aligned myself with universalist-co-existers. whom are lovely people but still it seemed a betrayal.) as it wasn't directly pertinent to whether or not Geminis are dual personalitied and prone to occasional deception even if unintentional- but the Sag was not convinced at my appreciation or defense of them. It did become clear that the EP takes loyalty very seriously and won't facebook friend just anyone. Especially people who don't know their job or their work. So now i'm back, vaguely hungry and of course wondering on what have i said about myself and what might they be thinking about me. And why am i so cagey all of a sudden? I should've ordered miso too. They skimped on the salmon as it does not even compare to this place i went with D the other day.


Yesterday Sarah and i had thee most lovely vacation day. I have renewed my love for the 126 and for the simplicity of ventura. The beaches are substandard but sometimes you only need about 5ft with rocky sand and it'll do. The seals still roll by. An epic battalion of 41 pelicans. And a handful of dolphins. to be a truly lovely tableau as the fog finally burns off and the sea becomes a glittering beacon of all that is holy and good in the world. With good company, a book, and plenty of snacks. It was worth the extra 60miles roundtrip to avoid traffic and the canyons and it took me directly west of my house. You could see the world threatening to make the trip bad with spilled pickles everywhere and getting radar gunned by a cop but it all passed smoothly anyway. Even the consumption of too much dairy, a sunburn and a small case of hives and it was undiminished in its pleasantness.


And now here I am. My days booked again. My nights calendared. Going to fit in a massage and swimming, crafttime and friends and pass the summer.


ttyt.
m.

dude,

That is so weird about your exacto knife injury, as I too cut my pointer finger yesterday. I was slicing watermelon. I can’t be trusted with such instruments. But we’re totally blood sisters now, as if we weren’t before.

Am the exact opposite of contentment at the moment. Mainly gross and unsettled. The word “spaz” comes to mind. Can’t simmer down to save life, so am channeling nervous energy into spontaneous, semi-manic projects such as lawn-mowing, yard sprucing and wallpaper removal. Tile scrubbing. Which is good because at least those are productive activities and sort of get me somewhere. But I could, I don’t know, do my job. That would be helpful. If I could focus.

Pending Projects: Rip out garden. Fill flowerbeds with pretty fresh flowers. Finish master bedroom wallpaper removal and begin painting. Touch up hallway and kitchen trim. Scrape off rust from porch railing and repaint black (which will be awesome). And then there are a lot of maybes. We will see.

Side note: The Crazy this month, which has (mostly) passed, featured a very specific loathing toward pickup trucks with ginormous fenders. Hate! The nerve of them. Somewhat amusing, however.

I’ve been washing my face with straight honey, which is both interesting and so far effective.

Was highly dissatisfied with the conclusion of Worst Comic Standing. Because that’s how it ended up. But, beyond satisfied with conclusions of both Friday Night Lights (brills, brills, brills, cannot emphasize enough) and Work of Art.

So I’m supposed to do a little work tonight and then watch ProRun. It’s my greatest wish. But there’s this tiny obstacle called football in the way at the moment. Blech. But I suppose it’s just as well.

xxxxoooo

pen

Pen.

hello,
so yesterday as i may have mentioned i cut the top of my pointer finger with an exacto knife while scraping away some edging for the necklaces. the sacrifices i make. i know. its now bonded together with new skin. which is a gross title for any product even if i love it.

this is the first day i'm not going anywhere and am going to quietly sit in my space and be. allegedly. and am not working out either. the crick in my shoulder, the foot thing. it's all too much right now. i probably shouldn't be having my breakfast quesadillas but they're just so tasty with the chicken, cilantro and pepperjack.

i had other thoughts besides the current state of my being, which is feeling fed, mostly content, and in need of a shower. and on their 3rd load of laundry. but like i said, rapids, high high rapids. who can even mark the passing of the days. i just now had my dad ask me to print out my resume for sam. dads friend. (its like 3 pages long and i dont care) i am always encouraged by these things- if it didn't occur to them already i need as much help as i get. i need rescuing. i need a man! or some sort of brilliant pro bono marketer. who just makes it their job to sell me as a product. otherwise i am sadly used and oft given to drowning. and through such thought filled actions i now have a queen sized sleigh bed ready to be quiltified except i dont have a mattress but whatever. one thing at a time. and my necklace project. what would i be doing for work if i didn't have that. i know not. 2 additions of cheek added to resume: seasoned traveler and expert organizer.

anyway its time for a new beverage and stage 2 of the day which includes netflix and more working with the hands instead of with the typing.

adieu friend,
m.

m,

I’m writing you a letter even though we’re totally hanging out on email right now. So after my glorious hip injury, a new book magically showed up on reserve for me at the library about ChiRunning? Which is supposed to be pronounced CheeRunning, but I can’t help pronouncing it like ChiTown. ChaiRunning Anyway. It’s one of those books you have to skim, because there’s a lot of chaff. Behold the awesome power of CheeRunning, blah blah blah… Yeah, I get it. I understand the alleged benefits. Just tell me how to do it, sucker! I should probably just read the Wiki entry and call it a day. But no, I’ve got to have the details. Which I then have to sort through, arrange in my mind and ultimately let go in order to accomplish said CheeRunning without falling flat on my face. Because, like, you’re supposed to tilt forward? And completely relax your leg muscles, including shins, hips, etc. All those things we normally injure. Power running is out. Harnessing the Chee is in.

Or something like that. I experimented a bit today on the treadmill and don’t know that I know what the hell I’m doing have the hang of it—def need to keep reading—but it did feel different. Like I *might* circumvent shinsplints, if anything. And that would be rad.

If you see running only as a sport, you’re limiting yourself to getting only the physical benefits. It’s like the difference between stretching and yoga…between sitting in a waiting room and sitting in meditation…between training your body to run faster or farther and practicing to run in a mindful and masterful way.

It’s raining. It’s pouring. K.Lo just complained to me about her old man snoring, at night, which I find completely hilarious. That’s why I sleep with a pillow over my head, little girl!

Tomorrow is my second and last workshop about helping out at Sunday preschool. This time I’m going to bring a sandwich. Maybe another round of CheeRunning after that and a blog post? I can’t decide which topic to work on though.

Also, I feel completely taken off guard by a bout of The Crazy. Is it time already? Could it be? I’m so annoyed. I loathe mankind. The end of ProRun made me cry. And I just want to order takeout for dinner. Not to mention the cloud of anxiety and anticipation over my head. But we’ll talk about that another day.

peace out -

pen

My Dear,

Things are a foot. This is when the rapids are getting a little rough. The exhilirating thrill of the start has given way to a constant push and paddling. What we want is some glassy water and overhanging vines so we can moor our rafts and get out and play. But we're afraid for now of being stuck upon a rock or worse yet overturning by a bad move. One that might've been avoidable or shown worse yet in short-sighted blunders. So we must paddle on. Paddle on.

Looking around it seems much the same. Tankard of iced tea. Experimenting with foodtrucks outside the building. A calculation of checks and balances. Sideways glances at the calendar as if I could figure out time. I am currently now eating a plum. Craving dark chocolate ice cream preferably with nuts. And in desire of headphones that work better than these.

It is hard to say how long this patch of rapids will last and if my sunscreen is holding. And was it a good choice to let those two be in the lead and if the books in the watertight bags will hold until i have time to get to them. And then there's the communications and the meetings and wondering if when we camp at night if the bear we saw the day before will stalk us while we sleep.

Mental note: to get rice krispies at first available opportunity.
Spiritual landscape: in a cleft of the mountain, avoiding the blizzard. Its warm enough if not a little cramped. I don't mind standing at the moment however.
Things to remember: hat, glasses, snacks, tasks, and other boats on the water. Saftey first.

where do i begin m,

“Putin’ the paint where it aint.” Here we are at the stoplight leaving my neighborhood and here in front of me is a van bearing a highly awesome slogan. I mean… I love that there is only one “t” in “putin’.” I love that it even is “putin’.” I love that there’s an apostrophe for “putin’,” but not “aint.” I love that it even says “aint.” Because rhymes are catchy and good for advertising… besides that “where it aint” could imply many locations that are not walls, if we’re being honest. And I love most of all that no one in the process of slogan creation through execution suggested—perhaps—a few editorial changes before its permanent application.

Ahem. Anyway, it’s back to healthfulness and run/walking this week. Some yoga. Maybe the loop (but not running, as is ass-hot out there). I could really go for a nap, but maybe some cold coffee over ice instead.

Shoot, I lost my train of thought. Not sure where it went. Maybe ask K.Lo?

More soon – xxoo.

pen

enclosed photos c/o pen:

here i am superpsyched bcs kerry came by and brought me a frap completely unsolicted. so so good. heres the norton. i take the picture to confirm the tree is called "cassia". and that its super awesome with its fluffy yellow cool.

this is a most excellent picture of jesus with angel. Love EET.
what! another picture of a saint squashing a dragon. in this case michael. i think a collection of sts with dragons might be in order. oh degas. me on my way to work.

more flower pics from the church lot that haven't been stolen like the 2nd sunflower was just this last week. happy zinnia. oh and i don't know how i feel about our matches our business cards. i guess they're cool. but um, yah, they're cool. here's a lovely wild strawberry from lunch with sarah and some further tree in the sun magicalness.

not to be done with the outdoors this is fellow garden warrior emily, and follows our servethecity funtimes. more letter like stuff later. psych is on and i have to panic about getting up at 2am to pray.

but how can all of my life be too busy and time consuming and ridiculous when you look at those bright smiling faces. it cannot.

that'll do bean. that'll do.
m.