Snippet Update

Oh dear. This has been an intense week. It is Friday and I am catching up on bills and paperwork and blog visits and emails and phone calls and also squeezing in calm replenishments.

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The YART is over, the afterglow remains. I can't express how wonderful it feels to witness worthy artists who may have never sold their works at a fair or directly to customers before. Both JB and I feel so honored to have provided a forum for that to happen.

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And I also can't express how wonderful it feels to watch my good friends meet my good friends and maybe become good friends themselves. There was some magic in the YART weekend: lots of connections among people, lots of sharing and caring and enjoying...not to mention the singing.

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I love unplanned sing-a-longs. Have you been part of any? Do you play the guitar or know of anyone who does? Because there is something so affirming that happens when people sing together. And by the way, I can't sing. I can't carry a tune. But I sing anyway. Just like I dance anyway.

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I stopped being so self conscious probably 15 plus years ago. I am more concerned with enjoying myself than I am with being judged.

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I've had a hard week at work. I've been happily worn out from the YART so I planned to take things easy this week. But my clients had different ideas. I spent three unplanned hours at a crisis center with a scared woman with scary thoughts, who needed to be hospitalized, and I learned that an 11 year old little guy has become quite physically violent with his classmates.

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And a former client--a woman I so admire--called to tell me her sister, who I came to know, was violently murdered by her daughter's boyfriend. The %%&&$ then rode his bicycle back home. A horrible horrible story. I used to read things like this in the newspaper and now sometimes I feel like I'm somehow part of the story. I truly wish I weren't.

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I love this job, but more and more I am realizing how responsible I feel, how responsible I probably am, for the well being of others. It's not that I AM responsible, but I see what is needed, what is possible, what I and others can/could do to help if I/we were able to do more, and I have to step back, know that I do what I can, that being a caring healthy and skilled witness is enough.

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Tomorrow Mr. Ryan and no-longer-baby Drew are coming for the weekend. I love spending time with them, though they exhaust me too! Perhaps the most wonderful things are exhausting, kind of like a passionate night of making love. The truth is I don't want my life to be any other way. I want and welcome the passion, however I am lucky enough to have it.

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By October 15th I will complete a grant proposal for Renee's Book of Love. I am hoping to get

$ 1000 from a local arts council for much (not all) the set up and publishing. A few weeks ago I took samples of Renee's blog to the American Cancer Society and asked for a letter of endorsement for her book. I got that and more. They want to use Renee's book, when it is ready, to train volunteers. OH man, how great is that!

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Please cross your fingers for the grant approval. And please write or illustrate something if you want your tribute to Renee to be included. So far what we have is wonderful. Check out http://www.reneesbookoflove.blogspot.com/ if you want to see for yourself.

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Okay. This is long enough. There is plenty more I have to say. Maybe later. But for now thank you for stopping by, thank you for caring about my colors and words here, thank you for sharing so much with me. Blogging continues to be one of those passionate gifts I gratefully receive.

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Love

kj

Easy to Love Snippets from the Art Fair

I'm tired to the bones.

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All these memories

and all that love

hovering overhead.

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This YART filled a space

with grace.

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Not much time to take pictures.

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But here are some

in no order,

united

mostly

by

love.

a JB Bowl

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8 cups of confectioner's sugar

two friends in the kitchen

pink frosting overhead

one unending sweet hilarity

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YART 2010 in the side yard of kj's # 9 was pretty damn fine.

YART 2010: Energized Exhaustion

It's not over even yet.

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I should start with the art, I should explain the photos, I should organize this post.

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But from Thursday night to this early Monday morning, it has been a whirlwind of incredible people, incredible food, amazing artistry, music sing alongs and a spirit and community and connectedness I am not yet able to put into words, maybe I never will.

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For now here are some photos which may offer glimpse into YART 2010.

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Mim
Studio Lolo

Annie's bowl (in absentia)

Robin

hahahaha: Robin & kj (try) make cupcakes

(they were the hit of the weekend)

JB's Bowls

JB's Journals

the refrig

the lifesaver (Robin)

a dozen meals, one tiny kitchen

hahaha--kj forgets the 'k' in parking

so in the time crunch of the year

paring will have to do :)

just the beginning of music and song on the couch

chewy

hahaha: Could it possibly be breakfast?
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There will be more to say.

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But for now
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Thank you says it all.

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It was fucking fabulous.

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