The Anatomy of an Art Fair

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There are 24 lemons and 24 limes on my dining room table.

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The menu's written down, the press releases and lawn signs are peppered around, the six foot tables will be delivered tomorrow, six pounds of meatballs, two pumpkin breads, and one batch of no pudge chocolate brownies are cooling on the kitchen counter. I have a grocery list three pages long.

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On Saturday, JB will beam as her 3rd Annual Art Fair unfolds. She and I are pulling together 22 artists and artisans, providing meals and munchies from Friday night through Sunday morning, and preparing our rather modest ranch house to welcome 6 or 7 sleep over guests and up to 40 friends from everywhere for Saturday night dinner.

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Remember that vacation mode I came home with, after a month by the ocean? I still have it. So far I am having a good time writing lists, checking off what gets done, what's needed. If unfounded insecurity doesn't kick in, especially around all this food preparation, I think the whole experience is going to be a blast.

In my mind the YART has already begun. No more work until Tuesday. By noon today I will have finished much of the grocery shopping (eg five dozen eggs, four pounds of butter (got to be ready for those frosted white cupcakes), and, all told, the equivalent of six maybe seven meals from tonight until Sunday afternoon.

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Late this afternoon I will pick up Robin at Bradley Airport, my wonderful friend met through Renee before she died, and we will walk side by side, breathe the same air for the first time.

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And on Friday and into Friday night, whether it rains or not (it will?) friends and participants will come and go, we will cook and bake and set up and knock off a three page list of what will hopefully be done and ready by Saturday morning.

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But we're not compulsive. Just doing things one by one. I hope that approach and attitude lingers.

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I have to end this update by confirming that six wonderful friends born from the blogs will be here for the YART. I can't believe it. And I know who they are--I love and care about each--even though for some this is the first time we will 'meet' in person.

Still, there are several wonderful friends who will not be here (boohoohoo) which gets me thinking about next year.

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Another update to come, but I can't say when.

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Meanwhile, if you're looking for me, I'm the woman with the most packed grocery cart you've ever seen.

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Oh, and I'm also the woman reading tarot cards with the moniker Madame kj, charging $ 2 for a three card reading and hoping like hell I plan my time better so I have time to look up from the Queen of Wands and the Hierophant and take it in that JB and I are doing a very very good thing.

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Love

kj

Look Around

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She bit Mr. Ryan's foot when he got too close

and he overreacted by calling her a "Bad Listener!"

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Sometimes I don't stop long enough to look around me.

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But sometimes I do.

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In the last few weeks I started with farm animals at the County Fair and I'm currently up to the backyard butterfly section in kj's Book of Look Around. (I made that title up just now.) :)

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I am swamped, but not enough to not look around. I take that as another good sign. I am in the world these days. There is an Art Fair happening in my yard this weekend, I have a garage full of furniture to move from my Mother's house somehow within a week, I am soliciting endorsements and grant money for Renee's Book of Love, and I have these work reports that never go away.

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But most of what I am doing these days is all good. Even the hard part is better. Yesterday I came across a blog comment from someone who has hurt me and could care less, and every comment she intentionally floats seems to reactivate that hurt. But I'm volleying back, leaving a pointed comment of my own if that what it takes. This what I said I would do rather than let more word arrows come without defending myself. This is the 'don't mess with Me' part of my life these days. I like the fact that I am taking care of myself.

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But I digress. Mostly this post today is about Looking Around.

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Seeing.

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& Being a Good Listener.

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Love

kj

Yes? No?

Last night Stella did something unusual.

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Since her surgery she has begun to whine, this dog who asks for nothing and appreciates everything. But last night she whined me off my chair, through the living room, down the hall, and into the bathroom.

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Please let me set the stage: this bathroom is waaaay down the hall. As in not at all near any outside doors.

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JB noticed it first.

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A tiny speck.

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Crunched into the corner.

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A frog.

In the bathroom.

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So what was that about?

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I have friends who are teaching me. Marion is teaching me. And so is Marianne.

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So I have this little frog and I cannot figure out HOW it managed to get in the house and hop its way to the faraway bathroom.

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This is what I've learned:
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Frog's song calls down the cleansing power of the rain. Frog is a reminder of the sacred power of tears to transform and cleanse away sorrow. Frogs will die if away from moisture for too long, and thus Frog reminds us to refresh ourselves, and allow joy to moisten our lives and our hearts. If you are feeling "muddied" by the world, take a moment to dream, to laugh and cry and renew yourself. Frog also reminds us to cleanse our bodies, our environments and our auric fields. People with Frog energy should learn and utilize methods of psychic cleansing.
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Frog is able to work equally well in the realms of Earth/Air (conscious) and in Water (unconscious.), taking in the unconscious almost by osmosis. Frog people are often artists, mystics, psychics and healers. They are often empathic, excellent at reading others and in knowing how to help them heal.
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Care must be taken however, not to become swamped by taking in the emotions of others. Frog reminds us to cleanse our bodies, our environments and our auric fields. People with Frog energy should learn and utilize methods of psychic cleansing so that they do not become bogged down. It is imperative to learn how to recognize when people, situations and circumstances are draining energy, and to cleanse them out of your aura so that you may sing freely.
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A tadpole's shape mirrors that of the spermatozoa. Frogs are often seen as a symbol of fertility and creativity. Frog people should nourish their creative side.
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Frog people may go through many metamorphoses during their lives, and may change careers several times. Balance will come through respecting these changes and learning to go with the flow.

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Okay. Thank you. I understand.

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Who knows: today a frog, tomorrow a princess (or a babe!)
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So may I ask: what do you seriously believe or not believe about animal totems?
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Do you think this implausible frog is mere coincidence?
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I'm interested because, frankly, I'd rather not cry. I'm all for recleansing and renewing, but I'd rather not cry.
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P.S. Know what Renee said about crying? Her sister Camille recently told me that Renee would chastise anyone who tried to wipe away their tears.
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"Those are healing tears," she'd say. "They deserve to fall straight down."

No Time Like the Present

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I have not been a very good blog friend lately. I find the transition of September to be a challenge for me: change of clothes, change of seasons, change of heart.

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I live in the most beautiful place to experience Autumn. The leaves on so many tall stately trees have begun their own change: from green to yellows and oranges and reds. Within a week or so, the landscape will explode with color.

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And my yard will explode with fallen leaves.

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I spent today doing what I love. I picked up fabulous lawn signs for the Art Fair in my yard next weekend, I planted mums in special places in my front yard. I had friends here for dinner and several areas of my house are getting painted--best of all, not by me!

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Things are getting easier. It's been a long time before I've been able to say that. My heart is settling down and my head has stopped insisting that the unimaginable be understood.

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Tomorrow (Saturday) I will drive two hours to my Mother's house, where I will meet the couple who will be renting the house my Father built and where I lived with my family until I was 22. I'm glad the responsibility of fixing the house up--no small task--and finding tenants will be behind me. One more large check mark completed.

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But what have I done? The house is empty. The carpet has been ripped up. My Father's favorite chair was thrown away. There is no trace whatsoever of my Mother in the kitchen. There is no trace of any of us, except for the Virgin Mary statue, standing inside a white kitchen sink, near the back door.

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My brother cannot walk in the house again. He said it made his soul ache.

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Tomorrow I will meet this very nice realtor named Sue and a man and a woman who will move in on October 1st. Then I will do one last walk through of Aunt Sophie's dining room furniture set, now packed in the garage until I either sell it or arrange for a storage unit. Then I will take myself to Mr. Sushi and I will have my three orgasmic favorites. (I am not kidding: I have to stop myself from making passionate sounds.) :)

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Then I will drive home, and hopefully I will plant some more mums, place a few YART lawn signs in choice locations, cook a dinner mostly from the local farms. I will probably phone a friend or two and I will probably arrange my affirmation cards for sale at the YART.

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And if I'm lucky, I will notice mid way through my day that my heart doesn't hurt in the way it has for too long now. Things are looking up.

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And guess what? If you are reading this, you're part of the reason. Blogging has become a special part of my life. There will be times when I am not present as much as I'd like to be, but the bonds here are never far.

Love

kj

Animal Wednesday: Guest Columnist Emily Rabbit's Father

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Dear Annabelle,

Did you get the carrots? I had them sent special delivery from the mail room, it was a favor to me because normally mailing food is not allowed but when I explained that the box of radishes got returned, I managed to elicit some understandable concern about my family during the winter months.

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I think I am going to be able to send some Army blankets too. That is going to cost me covering a couple of overnight lab shifts, but any lack of sleep I get will be offset by not worrying about you all on that new hill. Is the hole nice and deep and is the dirt firm enough? Please jump up and down all around the hole to be sure everything is good and strong.

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I got a postcard from Emily last week. Since when did she signing her name with white ears with the little pink silvers? She told me not to tell you that she got arrested at the church board of directors meeting for trying to sell rabbit pellets disguised as multicolored jelly beans. She admitted that it might not have been wise of her to approach small children and offer them samples.

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But of course she also said it was not her fault when several of them got sick. Where do you think she learned to lie on the ground and kick her feet up in the air like that? And that BooHooHooBooHoo cry of hers? She said she thought kicking and boohooing at the same time would be enough to get her out of trouble but because children were involved she was arrested and spent the night in jail. Her friend JB bailed her out it seems, but you should probably contact Uncle Bunny and ask him to send her some money, or if not money, at least a thank you card.

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Things are not too bad here. Of course who would want to be held against their will like this, not to mention some of those experiments are very stressful. The one I hate the most is where we have to figure out which lever to hit before we get this puny piece of lettuce. Ridiculous. At least make the reward more interesting, like, licorice or maybe frozen yogurt.

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Anyway, I’m not complaining because at least I have my own cage now. I feel bad for the newcomers who start off six to a cage and can barely turn around. Plus, no sex is allowed, not that it matters to me, dear Annabelle, but can you imagine a whole community of celibate rabbits? And they wonder why random humping makes so much noise?

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I’m working on a communication system with one of the doctors here and I’m impressed that he is starting to understand a few commands. But for the life of me how am I going to explain that rabbits need sex? He should know that already, really. What could be more obvious? But you know these humans. They miss the most obvious things.

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I got your last letter but the corners were chewed off so I couldn’t tell if Mayor Hare won another term or not. I’m still surprised we have a browned haired rabbit for mayor. Maybe the color barriers are breaking down. I’m for that, after all, who really cares who’s white or brown or grey? But I couldn’t believe that Madeline dyed herself pink. That is quite a dramatic statement.

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Do you think it has anything to do with the fact that she prefers women to men? I don’t care about that either. All that matters to me is that my family is cozy and happy. That’s one thing I will never understand about humans. Doesn’t it seem like they spend so much time worrying about money and jobs that they forget about the most simple pleasures?

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Annabelle, I know you are still mad at me for getting caught. I probably could have outrun those men, and maybe I could have escaped during the ride here, but I decided it might make sense to get inside and see what goes on here.. Afterall, we had lost almost two hundred of us before they got me.

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They call this place the National Institute of Health, the NIH for short. There must be a zillion mice here and since we both know they are not nearly as smart as rabbits, God only knows what happens to them. In my section we are treated fairly well, most of the time. There was a period of a several weeks when a bunch of us were forced to stay awake day and night. If we fell asleep we got this electrical shock and really the whole thing was very unpleasant, but now that that’s over and done, I get my three meals a day, my cage is cleaned twice a week, and because they’re so impressed that I can wiggle my nose on command I often get extra goodies in the form of radishes and parsley.

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Don’t worry about me Annabelle. There will come a day when they will want to replace me with someone younger or less experienced and when I see that coming I’ll make my move to come home. You know I’m as smart as Uncle Bunny when it comes right down to it. Just because he and Janis Joplin became friends, that doesn’t mean he’s smarter than me.
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Ooops. It’s time to push the green button again. Easy peasy. I love you Annabelle. Let me know when you get the carrots. And don’t forget to jump around the hole.

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Love

Your faithful husband Noah C.C. Rabbit

A Love Story

For nine years they moved past each other. The elder was unwilling to acknowledge the very existence of the younger woman, let alone accept that she was, by commitment, now part of the family.
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The elder's daughter cried over it, was turned inside out by it, gave up because of it.
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For nine years.
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Then, one Thanksgiving morning, the elder's husband announced, "This has gone on long enough. Your Mother's going to talk to you."
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The elder walked the daughter to the door and simply said. "I had a dream I might be wrong. What's the least I can do?"
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The daughter paused for just a second. "Coffee," she said.
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The elder looked down. "Okay," she said.
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How many years has it been since then?
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The elder and the younger woman no longer remember. They have no need to remember.
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Because for a long long time now, they have come to love one another.
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Totally & honestly love one another.
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And this makes the daughter very very proud of both of them.
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JB & kj's Mom at the Rest Home Annual Picnic

Big Yellow Time

In a few hours I will begin my twice a year Big Yellow writing group, twelve of us who will write from Friday night through Sunday at noon. We are eight writers and four songwriters who will write or compose for an hour at a time and then read or sing what we've done.

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Normally I am psyched to the maximum. But not this time.
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This time I have no idea whatsoever what I will write, want to write, might write. I know I will not work on book #2. It has become difficult, painful even. I need to put the manuscript away for a while and revisit it with a fresh eye.
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So WHAT will I write about this sweekend? Poetry? A short story? The start of a new novel? A fable? The tales and tails of Emily Rabbit?
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I have no idea. Not a clue. It's not surprising when I don't know what my metaphors and characters will say or do, but normally I have some idea about what and who they are.
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I guess I'll find out when my fingers start moving......
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Does anybody else start with a blank page or a blank canvas?

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Happy weekend to all.
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love
kj

Update on Vacation Mode

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WAAAAH!

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They took my fence apart today!

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My homemade sign for the Art Fair went up three days ago. And today, while I was innocently sipping coffee and readying to go to the farmer's market, I see the panel with some of the Art Fair sign walking by my kitchen door.

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It's okay again now. Well, this part isn't back up yet:

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But it soon will be.

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Things were buzzing at my house today. The section of the fence that was damaged last winter by a speeding snow plow got replaced today. I didn't know the fence folks were coming, but they somehow knew enough to treat my signage gently. Thank you Fence Goddess for this small mercy.

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And today the overgrown shrubs got a buzzcut. I didn't know that was happening today either.

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And Jessie, our nice-guy carpenter who bailed on our back hall redo for reasons known only to him, was back and willing to make at least some of the unfinished work right again.

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And, finally, I cut back the garden. Bought some mums. Took a longish stroll with Stella. Firmed up renters for my Mom's house. Heard the lovingly reassuring voice of a brave dearest friend. Thought about my second book (it's not okay). Scooted over to see the glissen in my Mom's green eyes.

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I love Wednesdays. I don't work on Wednesday and sometimes on Wednesdays I have the rare time to just let things happen. When else would I be sipping coffee when my fence and sign marches past me?

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I am no longer on vacation. That is VERY clear. But you know what? I am still managing to stay in second gear. This week I've been sad by events at work. I still can't grasp my version of an unfathomable ending. I'm still kicking my knee forward when it wants to ache..

But.

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I'm breathing in. Breathing out. Taking my time. Getting things done. Settling in. Opening up.

Yup. I'm still on vacation mode.

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So far so good.

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love

ms. kjbabe

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A Special Inquiry

Okay. I don't normally float ideas and suggestions until I am sure of the approach and form, but I'm making an exception.

Last week I wrote about Angelina's Father getting custody of her and her two brothers. Last week I had cautious hope.

Yesterday he cried. His girlfriend does not want to deal with his children. He has a temporary job painting houses. He needs to move. He does not speak English. He has no money. He wants his kids.

I saw him with his two boys yesterday. They are happy with him. He loves them. He is a good Father.

He is a hard worker. He is overwhelmed.

It cost at least $ 1500 to move. First month. Last month. Security deposit.

I don't know at this point if the Child Protective Services will even let him keep his children; the situation is so unstable.

Here's why I'm writing. I am not writing to solicit money.

Not yet.

I am writing to ask your opinion about the power of the blogs.

If needed, would you participate in a blog experiment?

The experiment would not just involve you. It would involve your willingness to contact your blog friends and followers and asking them to get involved too.

I want you to know I have never done anything like this before. There are systems and programs and I don't like to think of myself as a savior (save-your). But this family is deserving. The children deserve whatever help can be mustered.

So.

Consider this an inquiry.

Just an inquiry.

Always, thank you my dear friends and visitors.

love

kj

The Secret of Life

This is for my friend Mark, otherwise known as The Walking Man:

Long ago a panel of Gods and Goddesses held an emergency meeting to find ways to protect the secret of life. They were concerned that as humankind expanded its knowledge and reach, human beings would one day be able to access the knowledge known only to the highest Gods.

One God said, “Let’s hide the secret at the bottom of the deepest ocean.”

“No”, said another, “They will one day have submarines.”

Another said, “Let’s hide it at the top of the highest mountain”.

“No”, said another. “They will one day have airplanes and helicopters.”

There was silence for a long time. Then, the youngest among them said, to the great relief of all, “Why don’t we hide it inside them? They’ll never think to look there.”

Sunday Night Mish Mash

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Do I need to say anything? Oh happy day pink zinnias! But I will add this: isn't this a great use of salt and pepper shakers? A friend bought a case of them at an auction--I don't think she spent

$ 5 for them--and what fun to turn them into instant little vases!

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On October 2nd JB and I will host the 3rd Annual Art Fair in our side yard (more on that later, for sure). I wanted to hang a vinyl banner announcing the event on our fence, which sits on a main road. But when I priced them, I couldn't justify a cost of $ 75 or more dollars for one banner.

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This kind of thing frustrates me because I wish I had the skills to create things like that. I thought about what I could do and I came up with this:

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It looks pretty darn good! I'm now working on another piece for the front fence.

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Conversation with my Mom:

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Me: How's Carmen, Mom?

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Mom: She's fine.

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Me: Do you remember her?

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M0m: (sheepish grin) Not really.

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Me: How come you're saying she's fine if you don't remember?

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Mom: (wide grin) To keep you quiet!

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This is a pretty good book for artists who have an interest or could use some help in marketing, promoting and selling their goods. It covers a good bit of blogging--a subject any one reading this already knows!--but it also has some good suggestions for giveaways, etsy, house parties, advertising, etc.
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Scribbled on a bridge: Noah & Annabelle. I look up at it and think I want to write a story about Noah and Annabelle. I just like the whole sound of it.
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In Provincetown, squeezed in a corner of Commercial Street, a man named Scott began selling pink icing cupcakes for $ 2 each. He would bring about 200 in tuperware containers and within two hours he would have sold all of them ($ 400's worth).

This got JB and me thinking. A cupcake business. A sidewalk cupcake business. We are thinking enough that I am going to call our local Board of Health to ask about kitchen requirements, and then City Hall to ask about sidewalk licenses.

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I like that JB and I aren't afraid to consider ideas and possibilities. It is in this spirit that we bought our little place in Provincetown (we rented it out full time for three years so we could afford it); when we opened our short lived and shockingly successful restaurant, when we think about how we will return to the Amalfi Coast in Italy and live there for three months).

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Thinking like this reminds me of a quote I've never forgotten: A ship in the harbor is safe but it doesn't see anything.

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And finally, here again is the scene of the upcoming YART (Art plus Yard). Did I mention that SIX friends born from the blogs will be here? I find that unbelievable, amazing, and totally wonderful.
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It's autumn in New England. I think I'm ready.
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Love
kj

Guest Columnist

Advice from Stella:

When all else fails,

Eat the zinnias

Contrasts

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Last weekend a little boy went to his first fair. He ran from ride to ride, from game to game, riding a merry-go-round motorcycle with the seriousness of a professional race car driver. He swung wildly inside a magic dragon and put his arms up the the air while his Mother held him tight on his first roller coaster.

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Last weekend another little boy settled in with with his Father after failing in three foster homes. He kicked and screamed and cried when he was told 'no' or asked to share. He swung wildly too, but his dragon was not a magic one and he had no Mother to hold him tight even though his roller coaster is by now both familiar and treacherous.

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By now I've talked about my work often enough that it is known that these days I am a psychotherapist and half of my clients are children. Three of my clients are siblings: 5 year old Angelina, who I've written about, and her brothers, ages 7 and 4.

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Just before I left for vacation, Alex (I have to make these names up) was returned to the custody of his Father. He will live with his Father and over the next few months his younger brother and Angelina will transition there too. The state agency that protects children will stay involved for another six months at most, and then these three children will be the responsibility of their Dad and his girlfriend.

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Their Father loves them. He cries when he is told what has happened to his children since they were taken from their Mother for neglect.

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Their Father is also very poor. He did not have the money to buy Alex his required school uniform for the first day of school. He was just laid off from his job as a cook.

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I am particularly worried about Angelina. She will stay with her foster Mother until after Christmas, will transition slowly by way of afternoon and then weekend visits. But Angelina's foster Mother loves her and makes sure that she is always well dressed, adorably so. She braids her hair everyday, makes sure her sneakers match her clothes. I don't think that will be possible when she leaves foster care.

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Angelina's foster Mother has terminal cancer. She is still active but it is unknown for how long she will feel and be well. She has asked to remain in Angelina's life once she is returned to her Father. But I worry that Angelina will not be able to look so pretty, so fashionable, once she is relocated.

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I worry about how poverty will affect these children.

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I worry if his Father and Father's girlfriend can handle Alex's needs. He does not know how to calm himself when he gets upset. He does not know how to trust that he will be loved, especially and even if he is 'bad'. Small wonder: he's gone through three foster homes in the last year.

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I look at my little Mr. Ryan, I see the joy on his face at that county fair and I know he will be safe. His wishes and dreams and needs and fears will be supported as much and as often as possible. God willing, he will grow from a child to a man who knows he can trust the world. There is no question about that.

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I can't say that for my three little clients. And you know what? I hate that part. I hate it.

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I can handle this work. Someone I was very close to recently and sadly accused me of bragging about myself and making a hullabaloo about people I 'feel sorry' for. I know that is not who I am or why I do this work. I have the ability to emotionally hang in and I'm creative and resourceful. It is good that I'm involved with this family. I am involved because I care and because I have the skills to help. But I also know this kind of work changes a person. I can handle that too.

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I don't know what I wish more: that the trauma of the past could be taken away or the abundance of the future could be assured.

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I know this isn't easy to read. Thank you for reading this. And you might as well know I have an ulterior motive.

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Come the holidays, I will be asking for contributions for this family. I have loftly goals. Maybe Emily Rabbit will hold another charity auction. Maybe my friends and visitors here will band together and we will raise enough to guarantee gifts for Christmas and new clothes and summer camp.

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Maybe things will turn out better than my fears.

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Did I mention that these are three wonderful kids? Totally wonderful. We-who-know (if you're reading this, I'm including you) can only do what we can do, but I have a feeling whatever we do will end up a giant gift to ourselves.

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P.S. I am not writing this so you will tell me how great I am to do this work, so please don't do that. I'd rather hear your ideas about how to help, your thoughts about class and poverty, your own feelings about how sucky and unfair life can be for little kids.

P.S.S. I've not yet ruled out a happy ending.

Love

kj

Animal Wednesday: Part 2 Getting Out of Trouble by Emily V. V. Rabbit

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Hello everyone, it's me, Emily. First here is the easy part:

How to Stay Out of Trouble

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Don't even try. Life without getting in trouble is too much honor society and not enough detention. And detention is where the chalk flies and the notes get passed. You shouldn't miss that part.

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How to Get Out of Trouble

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1. Never sit on your tail: That puts you in a weak and awkward position and then you have to worry about your balance. Tie your tail with an imaginary string to the back of an imaginary hook on the back of your real head if you need to. Then you can sit down like you own the place.

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2. Look like you are going to throw something big: You do this by swinging your arms back and forth and turning your head back and forth like you are very upset and looking for something. This takes the focus off you and puts it on the other person's self protection.

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3. Start with a quiet boohoohoohooboohoo and build it up (about 30 seconds) until it is a medium BOOHOOHOOHOOBOOHOO and if that doesn't work end with a large BOOHOOHOOHOOBOOHOO and add three extra BOOBOOHOO'S and stretch it out for at least 45 seconds. This should disturb someone so much they will either feel sorry for you or want to get rid of you fast.

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4. Compliment the person's haircut. Most people don't think their hair looks good and they will like hearing this so much they might be nice to you.

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5. Say that the last time you were in trouble your Mother punished you for two years and you're afraid if she does that again you will miss the best part of your childhood.

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6. Casually mention your supply of frozen Brussels sprouts and how fast they shoot from your pellet gun.

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7. Start saying the Catholic 'Hail Mary' prayer out loud and maybe even kneel down. They will think something is wrong with you and maybe give you a break. But don't say Hail anyone else because it will sound very weird, don't you think?

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8. Mention that you have an Uncle Bunny who gives big presents to people he doesn't know and if you need to also say that he was best friends with Janis Joplin.

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9. Pretend you don't speak English or whatever language someone is talking to you and just keep saying WAAAH WAAAH WAAAH.

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10. Keep a photograph of your family and pull it out while you start crying, saying they've been through enough already and is it possible you could do community service to spare them the pain of further problems?

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If anyone has any other ideas of course please say so because it's always a good idea to know how to get out of trouble and you should know that I have already tried six of these and five of them worked really great and the sixth one would have worked if it hadn't involved that church meeting and those little kids who got sick from the multicolored rabbit pellets.

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If you are not getting into any trouble, please think about that because it's not normal and it probably means you are not having enough fun, which would cause trouble later on anyway.

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Sincerely,

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Emily Rabbit

People Who Need People

I just wrote an introductory paragraph for this post that I just deleted. Instead, I am going to let some of these special people in my life speak for themselves.

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I would die for both of them. No questions asked. In an instant, if needed. I am glad to know that about myself, and I am glad to be able to love so very totally deeply.

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This image serves double duty. It is a rendition of Ms. feisty Emily Rabbit who makes whining and getting in trouble an art form (I admit it: often a breath of fresh air for me) and the renditioner (is that a word?) is a very precious friend: Ms. Studio Lolo, lo to me. If Lo had a nickel for every time she has listened to me, helped me, she would be a triple zillionaire by now.
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If you're lost, this might be the reason.....hee hee
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I don't like cliques. And when I see cliques in the blogs, I don't like that at all. So I'll just say that sometimes you meet someone who you just know you want to be your friend. And you hope to be a good enough friend back that that person will want to hold on to you for a long time. And if that person makes you laugh as well as think and love, isn't that the best?
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My daughter is happy. She is married to a good man. he cares for her. I know he will protect her and watch over her. So it stands to reason for that reason alone I'm happy too.
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I love her. So it stands to reason for that reason alone I'm happy too. Through the years we have had some ups and downs and all arounds, but she has loved me through all of them. She lets me be myself. She is good and kind and creative and adventuresome. She finds everything I lose. I really think she deserves better than me, but she doesn't seem to know that and you know, I think she'd choose me anyway. Did I already say I love her?

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I can't keep calling him Baby Drew. He is almost 18 months old now and he laughs like the dickens. Ryan calls him Drewbie. I call him my second grandson. The honor is mine, Drewbie.
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I meet (and write and sing and appreciate and listen and read and share and eat) with a special group of writers and songwriters twice a year in a Big Yellow House. There is some kind of magic that happens in the room where we sit. I don't understand it, but I surely welcome it.
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Isn't her goodness obvious just from looking at her? Ah, Stella. Damn that cancer and surgery that's slowed you down, but you won't be alone ever. You have a family.

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Ah Marianne. How great to affirm and confirm that you can know and love from the inside out. That's what I've learned from blogging. There's so much I don't know about the friends I've made here, but I know everything I need to know. The love is real. Thank you Marianne. And not just you. I'm not naming names, but I hope you know the love is real. I do my best to let you know. (Walking Man, I mean you too.)♥
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I shouldn't laugh. I shouldn't have laughed then when this sign appeared next door, in front of the park where weddings are held at the chapel by the lake. My friend Liz shouldn't have laughed either. But we couldn't help it. We lifted our glasses to Brian, whoever he is, and hoped that he was glad his wedding was cancelled. Cancelled, I think, on the day of his wedding.
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Ah, my friends. I have wonderful friends all around. Meet Liz and Heather. (And here is a hint of our upcoming art fair. The paintings are by one of my wonderful friends, Gordon Heins.)
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This was my house for 20 years, which in some strange way qualifies as a person.
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This is my favorite picture of my Mom. She was having a tough time when this was taken, but I look at her face and all I see are those honest eyes, her courage, her humility. I hope I age like my Mom. She has no memory, she uses a walker, she had to leave her house of 60 years and move 100 miles away to a Rest Home near me, and you ask her how she is and she says, "I'm fine. Aren't I lucky I have nothing to complain about?"
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And finally: may the wonder of the ride itself carry you where you want and need to go...

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In the past two years, I have learned what matters more than anything. It's people who need people.

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Love

kj

Thursday 13 (make it 16): The Other Side of Settling

Writing teacher, singer songwriter, life coach and my friend Nerissa Nields was on television yesterday talking about happiness. Nerissa trained under Oprah's life coach Martha Beck and cleverly noted:

You will never have everything you want or wish for
so why not decide to be happy with what you do have?

Which is another way of saying, 'The little things? They're not so little.'

Which is another way of practicing gratitude.

Which is another way of finding starfish instead of seaweed.

Which is another way to stop complaining and start affirming.
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So in the spirit of appreciating what is instead of mourning what isn't, I looked around tonight and a little poem slipped out:
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Thank you roof
Thank you shower
Thank you stove
Thank you flower.

Thank you Emily
Thank you stars
Thank you couch
Thank you cars.

Thank you memories
Thank you friends
Thank you beginnings
Thank you ends.

Thank you heart
Thank you head
Thank you tomato
Thank you bed.

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here's wishing you a great day and every moment,
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Love

kj

Animal Wednesday: Emily Rabbit & How to Get Out of Trouble but only Part 1

( Note from Emily: this is my Uncle Bunny

but I am only showing a picture of him

because I didn't have anything else I could use

and I thought I should use something

so I am showing Uncle Bunny because of that)

Well! Would you believe that I was stopped by the police in Provincetown for destruction of property, stealing, and profanity? Gregory Squirrel and I were brought to the police station and it was very hard because Gregory kept whimpering and whispering to me that he was going to be punished for a year which to him meant ‘no nuts, no trees, no swings, no nibbles.” He said that could ruin his life and he looked so sad about it all that I figured I had better figure out how to get us out of trouble—fast, which I can do if I really concentrate so that is what I did and it worked out okay, whew.
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I knew that falling to the floor and kicking my feet in the air while crying very loud was not going to work because it really didn’t work the time I was arrested at the church board meeting and besides the floor looked hard and I wasn’t sure if it was clean enough to roll and have a temper tantrum on so I had to think fast and I decided I would use the charm approach Uncle Bunny taught me when my teacher was going to give me an F just because I didn’t do my homework and because one time I hid under my desk eating radishes when everyone else was taking a test on Famous Rabbits in History. That time I told my teacher that JB was very sick and I had to help her because she was alone and she needed someone sweet and solicitous like me to bring her water and carrots and pills and sometimes a cold facecloth for her head. I was lucky that JB did not squeal on me, which she very well could have and might have if she found out she was sick.

So Gregory and I are in the police station and this horrible man is yelling that we left garbage under his tree (who in their right mind calls carrot leaves and jelly bean wrappers garbage? Obviously there is something wrong with him but that was not my problem because if he doesn’t know the value of things like this that is his problem and isn’t it sad?)

Anyway, he is yelling and saying that he is going to leave poison in his yard if the police cannot promise him that Gregory and I will never bother him again, which is so stupid because who could promise that about a squirrel and a rabbit who understand how to have fun and aren’t afraid to have a good time, except that it didn’t help that Gregory’s cheeks were now quivering and I could tell he especially regretted the part about the lollipop wrappers.

zzzzzz

zzzzzzzzzzzzz

oh, this is going to have to be Part 1 because I am very tired from having to be so charming even though it did work and Gregory and I are planning that the next time we swing in that tree we will not drop lollipop wrappers but we are going to drop something else that might not be nice.

Not being nice is a way to get out of trouble but only if you're desparate and you've already tried being charming, which usually works, but I am too tired to tell you how so there will need to be a Part 2.

Sincerely,

Emily Rabbit