shotgun

i've been working on a quilt. and when i say working, i mean, sometimes i pick up the hoop and hand quilt for 30 minutes. it's supposed to be for the small one's first birthday.
it's looking more and more like a christmas present.
i'm learning to set reasonable goals.
i'm learning that i truly do not know what it means to set reasonable goals.
so i grace it.
for you see, often my mind races so. the creative thoughts ignite and explode all over my brain. their intensity is overbearing. and there's no telling what, if anything, will control the choke. sometimes it's like the improved modified to extra full and i don't know how to control the pattern. we're talking grouping of pellets at a given yardage. we're talking crafty ideas and thoughts. we're talking, grab some graph paper and get sketching. dump out the fabric stash and get scheming.
where do goals fit in here? they don't. save one: don't start it if you aren't going to finish it. (or afford it.)
it's a hard one to respect. because of the shotgun effect. but i'm getting better. and my sketchbook fuller.
and someday, maybe i'll be more of a doer. but for now, i'm mostly a schemer. something this world needs anyway.
i hope.

of high hot heat and porridge

the view from the jeep this week:

in other news...
i think i'm on the INS watchlist. i'm sure true patriots question my citizenship. my very country of origin. my allegiance is sketchy. the border patrol hover ever so loftily above my abode.
because i hate watermelon.
it's pretty devasting. downright unamerican if you ask me. i can't help it. every year i try. have i had a good one? plenty. i have my father attest to their quality and amazingness. i try again and again. and hate it again and again. i even know if it tastes like it's supposed to. if it's delicious or not. i just can't eat more than a bite. and even then, i'm sorry i did.
determined to not raise a child of such bewildering faults, i got to thinking.
what would go well with that summer day? i know. i thought the same thing. porridge. watermelon porridge. give me that food grinder.
gross, yes? yes. but the small one liked it. maybe not her bowels. did you know watermelon gives you gas? i didn't. like i mentioned. i don't eat it. also, did you konw if you spit it up during your nap and rub your face in it, you are liable to get a sweet rash that itches a bit? me neither.

my summer education part 1

reading non-fiction this summer. if it's been published in the last five years. why? i want to look smart. no! i'm trying to stay (become?) current, okay?

i just finished my first summer read. the art of eating in by cathy erway.
sum up: young girl living in manhattan swears off eating in restaurants for two years and learns about cooking and eating and sustainability and local foodie cults and where food comes from.
a classic hippy read.
moral of the story: if people without God can be respectful of the earth's resources and conscientious-er of what goes in their mouths, why can't i?
the concept stems from what i've been reading in luke.  

If you love only those who love you, why should you get credit for that? 

Even sinners love those who love them!  

And if you do good only to those who do good to you, why should you get credit? 

Even sinners do that much! 

And if you lend money only to those who can repay you, why should you get credit? 

Even sinners will lend to other sinners for a full return.

exactly. follow? i'll elucidate: if "sinners" can treat God's green and blue earth with honor, why am his children not the example? others do it to save the earth, thwart global warming, or pay homage to their mother-god the earth. can't i do it because i personally know the one who spun the globe into orbit in the first place?
ah stewardship. every popsicle stick, broccoli stem, and steering column came from something in the dirt. it cost something something. and one can't go shoving the cells back into their original form to make it all better by some twisted reverse reincarnation. when it's spent, it has to be tossed somewhere. there are no cosmic disappearing bins o' trash to hold our discarded stuff. so we best take care the first time around.
grace angle: i will refrain from going berkeley on everyone. but i am going to eat and use things with the knowledge that it's by God's grace that it's given. and not take more than i need.
that's the sort of minimalism i can get into.

green things that are not reused, recyclable or reduced

so extremely excited about what i purchased at the farmer's market this morning. the small one (in her owl pouch) and i got there at 8 am. it was cloudy. in the upper 50s. i do not take this for granted. it was a lovely rare morning. the like will be far and few between in the coming months. as in, only when i leave redding proper. 

i've really enjoyed the astonishing number of days that are overcast here. especially after a few days of 90s. it also makes me dread the future. like, when is the summer coming? why won't it come? it's messing with my mind.

from a very kind lady (who helped my rid by bag of a half a dozen very plump and active earwigs) i snatched four of the first apricots i've seen this season. at various other booths i gleaned a couple very squishy and perfect peaches, some free range eggs hatched in some adorable ladies backyard (some are greenish. very cool.), thin leeks with gorgeous blue-green stalks, frizzle-haired drunken lady lettuce (really? yes.) and a silvery something tomato plant that's supposed to be good for the upside-down growing thing i got from a dear friend for my birthday. the tomato plants leaves are delicate and light-colored. i've never seen anything like it. 

eating two of those unconventionally hued eggs microwave soft-boiled with a dash of kosher salt and freshly ground pepper, i can taste the appeal. the romance of home grown and local fare. (i should've put some minced leek in this. dangit!)

but then i sensed the fear. without deliberation certain thoughts popped into my head. what did that lady do to the chickens? are these eggs okay? i mean , they came from a stranger at the market.  

heartily i rebuke such thoughts. because there are a bunch of money-grubbing strangers in charge of eggs at the winco. why is it easier to assume sinister motives to the local private farmer than a corporation? what's wrong with me? again. rebuke!

sidenote: they're from an americana hen. i found a cute video about these guys on flickr. they are like all the chickens you've ever seen in those hokey/i mean antique paintings.

in other news today, i've started taking liquid vitamin and other nasties supplements. this furthers my quest towards caffeine independency. fm patients are given the no-no on caffeine yet are some of the most fatigue-stricken folks. so not fair. 

i've tried this stuff before and it seemed to help the energy level. all in my mind? we will see. it tastes like the worst medicine ever, but strangely less gagging then the vanilla flavored powdered form that goes in your juice. it doesn't really dissolve and... i'll spare the details. assume a tragic method of wrecking juice.

free tip: eat protein with fat soluble vitamins or you will be a sad puppy. take it from a vitamin a and b poisoned veteran. blech.

anyway, this round, i'll take a shot of it and wash it down with juice. even if the juice has aloe vera in it. that doesn't have much of a taste anyway, and i'm used to what little it has.

and that donkey is the raddest thing ever. see his little aloe plant pack? he's a hard working little ass.

dyhyst?

now that i have a kid. i think about what would happen if i died. okay, i've thought about that before i had a kid, but not in the following a context. what would i be leaving her? aside from the legacy of faith, do i have my stuff together? essential papers are in files. yes. but some papers aren't. and there are boxes of photos, projects, gear, books, and clothing.
i thought this as i looked around my apartment.

a word about the apartment. 

'tis small. six hundred odd square feet small. and while that technically is enough for a family of three, it is not so much for a family of three with one member who sews, crafts and cooks as much as i and as much outdoor performance gear as we.
the baker's rack in the kitchen/dining room/living room/family room is filled with supplies. the small one sleeps out in the living room. there's a closet full of backpacking gear and yarn. bookcases full of books (though i've given away countless novels and periodicals and have yet to crack open a few boxes at the parents' attic/storage unit), and laundry.
where does one put clothing? or anything for that matter when you don't have a room for a dresser? we own one recliner and a salvaged couch besides our bed and crib. everything else is borrowed. yet we still haven't enough room for stuff. at least not the way i'd like it. as in. invisible.

my dream, within a dream.
this situation is difficult for minimalists. us.
i read books on lofts, flip through ikea catalogs, and peruse magazines on simplification of space and there is only one solution: spend money to acquire appropriate storage and organization.
for ages i've avoided this because the idea of spending money to keep in check things you have spent money on is ridiculous to me. did you know more stuff costs more than less stuff costs? why not get rid of more stuff? but like i mentioned. so little is ours. and so little is overwhelming me.
is it time to invest in some serious storage solutioning?
i want empty space. barren floors. clean walls. and a puppy.
okay, the last one is off subject. (but if you're curious, one of these.)

all neatly packed.
i hate boxes. and bins. and rubbermaid thingies. i'm so over looking at them. but what's the alternative? because i also hate moving dressers and shelving. as in, emptying them out and watching others heft them from one abode to the new. keeping everything taped up and stacked is simple.
always in my mind is the prospect of moving again. we've done it enough. we know what makes it most efficient: give back what you've borrowed and sell what you salvaged. move the mattresses, gear, culinary must-haves, and craft bins. and i guess the clothes.
maybe it's time to shun that mind set. we don't have plans to go anywhere. so why am i living like a nomad? cause it's stressing me out.

dye fail and heat

the amaranth family

it wasn't an effort to be green, hippy or resourceful. i just wanted to be creative. that, and the white packages were cheaper.
enter beets and a onesie. 
i'm awful at following directions--by choice, mind you--and this was no exception. though because there were so many steps i skipped, i'm not sure which was the critical impetus to failure. you see a representation of the end product. i had--and this is probably obvious--wanted to turn the thing a pinkish hue. it worked on youtube.
beets are from the amaranth family. incidentally, amaranth flour is a fabulous high-lysine (an essential fatty acid lacking in most grains) grain with zero gluten for my celiac friends. so if the dinosaurs in jurassic park ate it, maybe they could reproduce? (that was for my movie buff friends.) can can boil or roast the tap root and eat it savory or sweet style. if you like a mild flavor of soil in your meal, you will especially appreciate these. the ancient romans thought it was a great laxative (it has three times the fiber as wheat). don't eat too many because its abundant oxalite equals kidney stones.
i did end up being resourceful afterall. i ate the beets with cottage cheese for breakfast, and the greens wilted and paired nicely with the freshly caught bass i fried in a smattering of bacon grease. take that, Fail!

last of the sleeves

it was in the 70s and then 90s this week (currently 97 to be exact). the wind was cool and now it's not ("feels like 92"). i've embraced the beginning of a long summer. questions currently filling my brain are:

1. are those flea bites or heat rash?
2. is an $80 cotton car seat cover (why do they insist on poly-fleece fuzzy lining?) worth it or can i make a linen one for less?
3. could i sell said linen covers?
4. will my heirloom "russian purple" tomato plant die in the heat?
5. can our jeep's a/c last another year? what's that burning smell when it's on?

here, the small one waits for her capuccino during the last day of long-sleeves. she's a customer service nazi, just like her mama.

fibro blog

this entry is for you. because chances are, if you're a human, you know someone who has fibromyalgia or chronic fatigue syndrome. (both are very similar. in fm, the pain is more pronounced, in cfs, the fatigue is.) their life is a journey of realization and acceptance. of what one can and cannot do. should and shouldn't try. what once was possible, but now impossible.
all because of how it would make them feel.

i’m realizing i spend much of my subconscious energy wishing i felt better. rather hedonistic.
wishing there was an escape from the dull pain throughout my body. a fix for fatigue. i also realize this is the mentality of a drug addict. now there’s a new perspective. can’t judge. i understand the need, the desire to be without. though not at the expense of others and one’s own body. well maybe the latter is understandable, albeit not commendable.
what a waste of thoughts.
been reading about the work of deception in our lives. i’ve been working through it slowly (it’s a brain bender) and it’s making me sharper about recognizing the lies. catching incorrect thinking. like the aforementioned. does it really matter if i don’t feel good? really?
pain and suffering don’t have good synonyms. (let me know if i’m wrong on this.) which is a shame. cause i’m especially done with hearing the word “pain” in my head. “hurt” is emotional in my mind. so that won’t do. (plus, phonetically, it leaves much wanting. i don’t think i like any words with a “bossy ‘r’”.) anyway, the difference between p & s is that the latter has no end in sight. a hopelessness is attributed. i refuse to be hopeless! i rebuke it. fight it. feel it. am plagued by it. and then weariness turns my thoughts to mush. (there's an actual term for this: fibrofog. ridiculous sounding. but scarily accurate.)

the conclusion? it has something to do with the facts: a. Christ cares for me in a way i can't describe, but fully rely on. b. His grace really is sufficient. if i'd pay attention to it. and c. it doesn’t NOT matter what i’m feeling. it matters how i respond. i can’t wish pain away. i can waste away wishing. it’s really insignificant in the scheme of God’s great world aside from the goal—of somehow reflecting the Lord’s glory, “being transformed into His likeness with ever-increasing glory…” which is…
… pretty significant.
p.s. i used to think i needed a therapy dog, but now i’m sure i don’t. i have a therapy daughter. inexpressibly better. like i said. grace.

psalm 139 elucidated

when God said He knit us together in the womb, He was not messing around. the sheer amazingness of this feat has just increased four fold. 

enter the dragon. 

knits.

sewing with knits is a beast. and 5 minutes into this project there was a little voice of reason that said to me: yr outta yr league. of course i didn’t listen. i didn’t listen to the quilt lady who insisted i needed a serger, and i didn’t listen to the little voice in my head that insisted i needed a serger. shoulda. but didn't. 

i put my machine’s overlock and stretch stitch to the test. but ended up cussing and fusing everything together with melty tape that makes seams like magic with the press of a blazing iron. did the knit gods win? no. did i win? no. look at the pictures. the beanie was made by hand. the first attempt at reusing my materials. but that was months ago. the blue dress is the final product. no zooming in please. yikes. the extra stitches in the top are where i misfired the machine. apparently when working with recycled organic cotton, the stitches tear the fabric? i like to think Royal Robbins would be proud of my recycling ways. dashed as the efforts were.

so, God is amazing. He didn't like, mess up royally with the dna and have the second round of dogs sprout wings. or mess up the thermostat and facilitate the freezing of our brain juices when the sun goes down. (though there is a frog that lives on the tundra in alaska and literally freezes until the spring. take that darwin! wild.)
He could have let this sin thing Adam embraced really twist us up so everyone couldn't walk, or laugh, or enjoy coffee.
but He didn't. and i'm grateful. grace all around my friends. 

the spiritual state of the show

spoiler alert: this is going to be a long one. i’ve been working on it for quite some time. it all started with a quilt show…

Shasta County quilt Sew-ciety put on a show in Anderson. can’t say much about that particular town. they have a super walmart. ew? that’s about the most significant fame they can claim.

that and the fairgrounds. in one of their big warehouse things was the show. there were some amazing quilts. there were a lot of ho-hum quilts. saying nothing of the time and effort put into them, there seems to be a significant lack of color theory knowledge in the greater northern California craft community. i’ve been spoiled as i was introduced to the art by Marge. she puts these fools to shame, yo.

but onward. i learned some things. first, hand quilted items are a thing of the past. i saw about three, and they were vintage. everything is done by machine now. tragic. second, silk thread is the best for hand quilting. it’s fabulously strong and doesn’t tangle like cotton. (whatever.) third, people mostly copy designs. rare is the quilter that actually designs.

now for the social and i guess spiritual commentary. know how at a gun show there’s a ton of shady folks with militant bearings and scruffy appearances? know how they unpack the back of their ford ranger covered bed with it's boxes and chests of relicky junk to sell and show? know how many vendors are just downright arrogant know-it-alls? 

(my fave is when my hilarious husband asks a straightforward, albeit difficult question, and a guy will give this elaborate opinionated answer after which, walking away, my hilarious husband will say under his breath: “that guy was full of crap. he has no idea what he was talking about.” And then proceed to explain the real answer to me. He’s sort of an instigator, I suppose.)

well quilt shows are just like that. but it smells better. um. to clarify, gun oil is rather lovely smell. old men? not so much. old women? well... take yr pick (read: choose yr poison.) in this instance the doors were open and the breeze smelled of sweet grass.

in both venues you have a bunch of very lost people looking to express themselves through their life work. which is, may I say with all respect, quite futile. read song of solomon. you’ll get my point. gor the second amendment freaks, it’s their right to defend and the love of firearm mechanisms. for the quilt ladies it’s the sweing machine snobbery and the need to make pretty textiles. but it’s all vain. and that leads to me to my point… while I enjoyed myself (or was visually overstimulated to the point of a headache), there was indeed a prevailing spirit of sorrow and darkness. a palpable futility that left my heart sad.

but here are my favorites:

the third one is all of old testament stories. it was fun to figure out which ones. and the last i dug because of the salmon at the bottom balancing the mountains on top.

one booth inspired me to make something. but not the way it intended, i’m sure. i was looking at this pattern (by pink fig) of this girl’s tiered skirt. now, at a quilt show it is very faux pas to touch any of the work, so i asked (who i’m pretty sure is the owner of this vendor shop thingy) if i could handle it to see the work underneath. long rant short: she tried to sell me a serger telling me it was the ONLY way to make this garment.

lies. oh the lies.

so to prove her wrong. i decided: “i’m embarking on a knit garment sewing challenge. i’m going to turn an old super worn and soft organic cotton t-shirt into a summer dress.” for my elite model. you can guess who.

on project runway (the and only reality show on television i watch), they always freak out when they have to work with knits. i’ve always laughed at the drama with the overlock machine. blah blah, people. suck it up, i would say.

well… we'll see how it goes.

trojan horse 1, pc 0

just got the computer back from the shop. the demons have been exercised exorcised. thank you cyber terrorism and yr noxious viral-warfare. pernicious even.
and now the thoughts compiling in my brain and journal shall pour forth. but give me a few days.
i have so many things to share. but i'll be merciful. i'll work slowly. i've been sewing like a psycho-spider. to the left are some photos of what i've been doing. the summary, in pictures is that my sewing machine is amazing. swiss preciss-ion. that's all i have to say.

husqvarna... but not so chainsawy.

for those of you close to me, as in, close enough to hear me, you know my latest gripe has been mechanical. the brother sewing machine i have has angered me beyond retribution. the glitch in tension control is ridiculous. never has it worked right. and when i brought it to the certified technician or whatever, he was like, "get rid of it." the other lady was like, "you sew how much? with what kind of designer fabric? with what quality thread? uh, yeah. you have the wrong machine for sure."
great.
what do i sew with? i sew everyday. i can't just not have a machine. i will truly lose my mind. knitting is so not a summer sport. what will i do come june? (after cutting out 5 dress patterns, i actually started crocheting a dress in the interim.)
driving home monday i prayed with confidence that God would give me a machine. "i really want one. and i know You'll provide one for me. i have no doubt. cause You are hilariously generous like that." the question was when.
five minutes pass.
i walk into my home, and my husband hands me an envelope of cash.
that's pretty quick. told you He was hilarious.
so i shop around. hear some hilarious contrived sale's pitches. (my favorite was the one where the older lady told me that it was better to have metal housing. because even though it weighs as much as a couch, plastic is cheap. it breaks. didn't have the heart to tell her it was the machinery that counted. that and oh, did you know cops carry guns made of plastic? yeah.) basically i was to spend, according to one lady, "at least a thousand".
but that didn't jive with my internet research. i'm telling you man, you can NOT mess with gen x on that stuff. we are the informed customer. we see right through it.
so thanks to lyla, i get a machine that's usually $899 for under $500.
hilarious. simply hilarious.

excuse me while i read the manual for the next four hours... don't want to mess with the perfect precision that is swiss mechanics. 

more to come. i assure you.

a new hat

finally i finish the new hat. the one she's been wearing is squeezing her brains.
it's a soundlikefox original. merino/silk sock yarn. so lovely. and a bit of a twist cause i'm lazy and didn't want to mess with real cables and sock yarn. can you blame me? just wanted to finish before the 112 degree heat hits.

mostly, though she's lived her whole life in a hat (no hair is cold), she likes to take it off. a disadvantage to a hat that doesn't squeeze the brains.

great expectations

i need one of those venture capital loans. is that the right word? yes. i googled it.
to make cute things for all and sell them at farmer's markets would justify my time spent on crafts.
this little number was a fun challenge. my first use of the come-to-find-out infamous jelly roll. this is what it looks like when you buy it. precut. presorted. sister: "doesn't that go against everything you believe in?" me: "yes. but time is a merciless master." i had a week. and the lady at the quilting store (who has a sick obsession with tiny perfectly-sewn and aligned little jewel quilt square thingies) made it sound super easy. yay! right? super frustrating was this one. i think expectations can make or kill a project.
so i purchased a jelly roll. actually a deal for the amount of measuring, cutting and coordinating it cuts out. a great way to make your first quilt. there are books and books written on the (cheater) method. suffice it to say i used none of them. books? instructions? whaaa???

so the (second) pattern i turned out is to the right here. (we won't go into the first. it's a subject of bitterness. and annoyance. like i mentioned. the lady made it sound easy. such it is with the ways of the geniuses.)  36x48. machine washable cotton. moda's look and learn by american jane. the backing is a black print. done in a week. well... it would've been a week if the machine hadn't fritzed out.  another subject of bitterness. i was very pleased with the result. i think the sweet boy it was for liked it, too!

but back to the venture capital thing. i mostly want to make tops for girls and ladies for the summer. (it gets warm here, if i remember correctly.) fashionable ones with much spunk. i'll take orders now. for the two of you that read my blog. ha-ha! 

finished, mrs. butler!

amy butler, being the genius print-maker that she is, has re-awakened my love for little dresses. so, knitting on hiatus, i finish up this little number today. made of ohio sky and basil from the daisy chain and midwest modern collections. i know. i combined two collections. but they were gazing lovingly at each other from across the bolt stacks. i wanted to liberate their desires to be close to one another. 

i don't think amy would mind. (she's so brilliant it hurts my brain.)

and do you see the weather today? unbelievable. they don't make blue like that just anywhere. 

people can bash Cali's culture, immorality, economic problems, and outlandish home price medians. but when it comes down to it... we know you want to live here. there is something very capitivating about the mediterranean climate. and our super fun politics.

update 02/24/10

and here it is on the model! 

this week

sometimes the road isn't paved. it's more of a logging road, labeled only with numbers, with ruts you're not sure your jeep's differential will clear. it's been raining. a lot. when you turn it's more like swirving, slurring and sliding.
there's no one else out there but squirrels and sleeping owls. you don't have a come-along or winch anyway. oh, and your tires are bald. illegal, even.
okay God, I know you have me out here for some reason. but i think right now i'm tired of this challenge. i could use some help (read encouragement). cause the trees are tall, the road is rough, the needle's on empty, it's dark, the rain won't let up, and i can't see for all the things You're trying to show me.
so he cracks the clouds and shows you some sun. warm sun that somehow energizes you for the next click or so of challenges. the sigh of relief is audible.
the exact grace you needed for that moment. there in that ray of sun: sometimes it's a sister, a truth from His word, a mom, sometimes it's the lady from raley's, sometimes it's an armenian.

Behold, the LORD'S hand is not so short
That it cannot save;
Nor is His ear so dull
That it cannot hear.
Isaiah 59:1

thoughts for 2009

• the insulation in my bathroom has an R value (and i'm just estimating here) of negative 3
• i've flossed everyday since after christmas. well. almost everyday.
• so again, why are we in afghanistan?
• breastfeeding does not make one lose weight.
• calculus can be fun. not to me, but i've seen it.
• if someone lives in an apartment juxtapositioned to 3 other families' apartments, you should not buy that someone a drum kit.
• common sense is a misnomer. it is not common.
• debt is bad.
• the scariness of telling people about Jesus is in yr mind.
• monkeys are gross.

our benefactor, kerosene

for weeks we've looked forward to staying at the cabin. think quaint town, lower sierras, fresh pine, creaky and clean old cabin, snow, coldness, donner party...

(okay. maybe not the last one. that was more I-80ish. and this is more 108 on the way to yosemite-ish.)

so vacation is granted. bags packed. food prepared. chains purchased ("we are so going to return these").

up the highway, by way uncle and aunt and cousins and great g-rents, it starts to snow. significantly.

bonus: no chain control til just past our turn off. so we crawl our way to town. really coming down now. wet snow. thickly.

the trick is to make it up the last hill to the cabin. the hill on which three small children are tempting the fates versus an old jeep grand cherokee with balding snow tires. (rolling of eyes, slow shaking of the head.) good thing six inches of snow is softer than asphalt.

we make it. no children maimed. turned on the cabin propane heater. donned chains (it was getting rather hairy). made it to the store. overheard: "half the county is without power..." upon walking out with groceries... all went dark. well. in the store. there is nothing dark about night in the snow.

wasn't. pg&e says lights out for three days.

hm.

this will temporary, i'm sure.

i say, all my food must be cooked and the stove is electric. dangit.

quiet night. kerosene lamps. fume headaches.

warm loft. cold milk and snacks from front porch refrigerator.

quiet night. dad and daughter enjoy the warm fire. warm glow to rock baby by. mesmerizing flames distract sleeping.

daylight. exhaustion. pack-up. no chains on for snow bank drama. (same children tempt fates... this time on our way down. clearly they got smarter over the night?) thanks again for the nor'easter shovel, dad. coffee and donut.

beautiful drive down the mountain.

visit with bryan's fam.

next time we'll be more prepared...

bbq equipment and more lanterns.

camping stove and dehydrated grub.

generator and batteries.

here's the young one's view of the drive:

voice log stardate 01172010

driving the 217 miles to my sisters new condo, i needed to relieve some stress accruing from the horrendous drive. yes. accruing. like debt in the form of an over-priced high interest government loan that they refuse allow consolidation on and thus grows with prime plus who-knows-what while on deferment due to lack of income... but more on that another time.

it was way too dangerous on I-80, so when i got to walnut creek (the home stretch) i hit record on my phone. the following is a transcript of that monologue. among other things, what to learn from this is... i need to pay attention to my tenses, and i use 'really' and 'actually' and 'and' too much in my speech.

unedited:

"alright, this is entitled diamonds are not forever. and it really only applies to the people who drive to the [dirty] bay area.

and i had to practice my bradley birthing method breathing in order to not cry after hydroplaning. and even though the diamond lane is right next to the divider, and i'd rather run into a concrete divider than another car, um... hydroplaning is like one of the most frightening experiences when you're going 70 miles an hour. especially on 680 were people are psychotic anyway and drive like a bunch of idiots.

there's a reason why people, especially on I-80, [the diamond lane is] completely abandoned. i'm like, 'why aren't people driving on this?'

oh and when everyone else is braking in front of you, you should go ahead and brake as well, cause it means there's two inches of standing water in the freeway.

so i'm very thankful for the angels of I-5, 505 and 680.

this is crazy. it's some of the worst stuff i've ever driven through. ever. visibility is so poor i can't even read the street signs. it's a really good thing i know this road and i've driven it hundreds of times.

it's not a good thing that i'm in a toyota corolla. i don't even know how old these tires are. i don't think it matters.

and i will... [unintelligible (even to me and it's my voice and i was there. lol.)]... and there is no way i'm getting back on this freeway. as soon as i recognize a sign taking back roads to san ramon, i'm gonna do it.

plus i have to pee. really bad. but there were a few times on 505 where i really needed that coffee.

granted, people are being really cautious, which is nice. and i followed this honda civic forever on I-80 until they decided to go into the second lane, which i'm just not willing to do.

the wind is so bad--it's not so bad here on 680, which is strange--it's really bad in Maxwell area.

ah, lovorna road, praise the- oh... water... [clunk] oh... ah... i hope i didn't just break a tire. this road sucks man, they really need to pave this. there's like a huge dent in the road just filled with water. the only reason i knew about it was the huge van in front of me actually slowed down. i think he's gonna be my partner for the rest of the time here."

this doesn't even begin to illustrate how nasty it was. and no. i didn't look through the view finder. i could do this stuff blind. and notice there's no one around me. come on. i'm not that stupid.

[as freedom is a breakfastfood]

from the coolest website ever, the poetry foundation's.

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

as freedom is a breakfastfood

or truth can live with right and wrong

or molehills are from mountains made

—long enough and just so long

will being pay the rent of seem

and genius please the talentgang

and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow

or hopes dance best on bald men’s hair

and every finger is a toe

and any courage is a fear

—long enough and just so long

will the impure think all things pure

and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind

and robins never welcome spring

nor flatfolk prove their world is round

nor dingsters die at break of dong

and common’s rare and millstones float

—long enough and just so long

tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words by joy’s the voice

down shall go which and up come who

breats will be breasts thighs will be thighs

deeds cannot dream what dreams can do

—time is a tree(this life one leaf)

but love is the sky and i am for you

just so long and long enough

in the mail...

to whomever wanted to bless the socks off my husband... you succeeded. just joining us? here's the story...

for many months now bryan's been very vocal about the gear he wants:

a hardshell. goretex. taped seams. "general awesomeness." in other words... the arcteryx theta ar.

great honey. when i have 350 spare bucks, i'll totally do that for you.

oh and a wool base layer. to keep away the stink under the theta ar while scaling the heights of... rainer, shasta, adams, whichever i choose.

so in an anonymous package (someone has a very sick sense of humor. which we adore.) is the aforementioned items. oh the joy. we were smiling for an hour straight. the gift i wanted to give him but couldn't. thank you, Jesus. (and whoever let Him move through them.) happy birthday.

the only improvement would be a wintery mix background. we'll see about that in a few weeks. sierra nevadas hoooooooooo!