Category: verbal

Posted on

fridge

awesomeness of note:

1. Best Letter Ever From A Nephew.
this is a few years old and moved with me from the fridge in iowa to the fridge in chicago. it’s a photocopy of a school assignment my sister randomly found one day in her kid’s backpack. it reads: “In February we are writing about someone who is close to our heart. My Aunt Sara is close to my heart. She makes me happy when I’m sad. She sometimes goes to HMC with us. She loves to wear the earrings that my mom made for her. She is my favorite aunt. She loves me and I love me and I love her. She is like a hero to me. I love my Aunt Sara.” I think one day I will have to make another copy of both sides and frame them for myself.

2. my friend masha’s arrestingly beautiful little girls. this photo just replaced the equally adorable one from last year.

3. birthday card from maggie & heal, captioned: “Miss Q.P. Urkheimer” and on the back: “brained her fiance after failing to pick up an easy spare at Glover’s Lanes, Poxville, Kansas, 1936”; inside heal has written, “Right before our California reception, I checked out a whole shelf of etiquette books from the library so I could cram. Now I’m kicking myself, because I can’t remember whether ‘Send card featuring a neglected murderess as heartfelt birthday greeting’ was on the ‘Do’ side of the page or the ‘Don’t’.”

4. really intricate christmas card from een, which I could stare at all day, reproduction of “The Creatrix” by Mark Ryden, oil on canvas. it’s got dinosaurs and a woolly mammoth and a little spaceman in a spacesuit and a beehive with a clock in it and an undersea santa claus with four arms and countless other delicious things to feast one’s eyes upon.

5. awesome giant bunny birthday card, also from een, which kind of reminds me of donnie darko in a wonderful way.

6. little valentine card which showed up in my mailbox along with the most delectable chocolate chip cookie ever a couple of years back from maggie & heal; it reads: “It’s true! It’s true! We think you’re NIFTY! And we’re thrilled to be your pals. And we thought you might like one of these. xo, Heal & Maggie”

7. photo of me with maggie & heal’s cat, guy crowder, with whom I shared a real bond, mailed to me after he left them for elysian fields with the assistance of kitty aids, poor fella.

8. little page torn out of tiny notebook: “DEEP THOUGHT about LIFE. Our drum: >BANG<. Another drum: >BONG<. We must all DANCE to the MUSIC of our own DRUM. But what if our own drum is BROKEN or we are hearing someone ELSE’S DRUM by mistake?” and I’ve got a rotten sense of rhythm to begin with.
__
sidenote: maggie & heal bought my iowa house. before and throughout this transaction, I used to go over to their house, often on the spur of the moment, and play dictionary and boggle and write letters longhand and eat delicious food and just generally feel, I dunno, kind of like the best sort of family. they’re both gorgeous, warm, generous people and wonderful writers and a big part of the iowa that still holds my heart. living here in the city where everyone’s always got about a zillion things scheduled, I really really miss that slow time I shared with them– it hits me at odd hours, about six times a week.

Posted on

hmmm

sounds like my bathroom radiator is in labor.

of course you know what that means: iron baby to be friends with marzipan baby. just be careful which one you bite.

Posted on

there is no marzipan prince…

so tonight I ate the marzipan frog.

the googley eyes put me off for a bit, but finally I turned it away from me and attacked from the rear, as it were.

as luck would have it, one of the frosting eyes quickly fell off, so I removed the other as well and set to with relish.

deeeeeelicious! inside there was some sort of proper raspberry cream. believe you me, that was one confection done right.

and now I am working on hatching a marzipan baby. woo! just imagine all the cute little marzipan outfits.

Posted on

lucky girl x a million + various

(coda: I realize it might seem absurd to call oneself “girl” past a certain point; however, yesterday josue, while reviewing custom mural procedures with tammy and me referred to us as “you girls” not once but twice, and if you knew josue, you’d know this could only be taken endearingly, so I herewith consider myself vindicated)

1. this birthday far, FAR exceeded any possible expectations– comments and even posts and emails and facebook superwall thingamajigs of all kinds from all over reminding me of this insanely beautiful network I have of treasures called friends. bless me, my heart swells near to bursting, really. “thank you” feels insufficient to the task.

2. walked into work to a toasted sesame bagel with cream cheese and superjuice from tammy. moments later gina appeared with a bunch of roses. 10 minutes later a singing train of pals led by laura and gina with giant raspberry danish and marzipan frog. barely a blink later I was taken out for lunch by most awesome work friend crew. visit to the new building in the afternoon, which I hadn’t seen since it was empty and echoing warehouse space, and now it’s all built out, nearly complete, with carpeting and furniture and all– and new products a gorgeous, sunshiney space with delightful new spacious modular furniture– wheeeeee!!! after work quickie photoshoot drink with the ladies, treat of the lovely miss darcie, who somehow eluded frog-kissing documentation, and then off to most delectable french dinner at mon ami gabi with the world’s best brother in law. whew! whatta wonderful whirl. somewhere in there I think I did about five minutes’ worth of work. ;)

3. I had a thought about creative work and its sanity-inducing powers– it sounds obvious, but the key really is to keep doing it. there’s this phenomenon where you make something, and it gives you pleasure, and you look at it– you turn it around in your hand and maybe marvel at some kind of thing that moved through you to make this little bit of wonder and you walk away from it and return to it and admire it a little more– and gradually the pleasure seeps out of it, and the only cure is to get right back out and make something new. that’s how it works. for me, at least. it’s pretty delicious, actually, as long as I don’t get too hung up on the object, fretting it this way or that, identifying with or critiquing or excessively investing in it, and instead remember to reinject myself back into the flow of the process, to surrender to it, to swim.

4. please forgive my occasional existential whinges in this space. it is, for good or ill, an online journal, among other things. occasionally I turn a corner and see what I’ve gone on about and am chagrined at my own smallness and think, boy, I could really stand to get out in the world and do something for somebody else and quit my privileged whitegirl bellyaching. there. I’ve said it first, now you don’t have to. ;)

5. I’m embarrassed to admit false alarm about navelgazer.com. apparently I did pay my renewal fee back before christmas. I don’t know how this fact eluded me, but I’m going to officially chalk it up to Holiday Haze. thank you to the thoughtful and perceptive friend who actually checked whois info and pointed out to me the 2009 renewal date. there is no emoticon expressive enough to convey my sheepishness. but hey! woo! another year of navelgazer. maybe I’ll actually do something with the ol’ site. don’t hold yer breath, tho. and, now, just to be clear: this here’s not navelgazer– I know these online things are confusing, so I’m going to flog this poor hoorse and point out how this is navelgazer.VOX.com versus navelgazer.com, which is my very own domain, purchased in the eons-ago dawn of the interwebs, on which I pretty much posted my dreams for a bunch of years. then there’s the blogger-hosted lint, navelly.blogspot.com, to which I moved said dream-cataloging a coupla years back. and then there’s flickr for the snaps. so virtually these days there’s really not much of anything on navelgazer.com since I quit paying to host a whole lot of images and text archives and whatnot in that space, being cheap, and actually these days there’s no way to see all that ancient stuff except through the wayback machine— but someday I think I may find the energy to put it back out there in some form. though, really, I have a host of good intentions, few of which ever see actual light of day, so probably not.

6. laura’s uncle maya isn’t feeling so hot– please wish some wellness in his direction. thanks.

7. xo.

Posted on

birthday eve

this time last year I was f-f-f-freakin’ out. which is not so much the case tonight.

41 doesn’t feel quite the hurdle that 40 did. and I’m feeling rather more established, or heading-in-that-direction, in my life here and now than I did at this time a year ago. so that’s all good. but I’m still battling the blues. the counselor says she’s impressed, that I’m doing well on the heels of romantic disappointment and so on– and I hear that– I know I’m doing the right sorts of work to help myself be well and proceed forward (I even have car insurance, woo! ;) ). but I said to her I dunno, I’m just tired of doing the work. and she said, what do you want, that the world should do it for you? that roses should tumble from the heavens? (well, not in those exact words, and, no, she’s not a jewish grandmother, but that’s the gist) and I said, no, I know, no… but there was something else– it eluded me in the mortification of how I imagined I’d sounded, and it just came clear to me tonight– I’m tired of doing the work and still feeling crappy. I’m tired of this heavy heavy heart. it feels as if I get short-lived vacations from it (the joy of coffee with a friend, the ebullience of falling in love), but here I am, back again with this dang clunker. and so tonight I think: maybe some sort of elemental lightening is in order for this organ in my forty-first year. we shall have to see about this.

in other news, tomorrow navelgazer.com expires. I hadn’t really planned to let it lapse, but the current state of the bank account dictates it– so rather than going begging, I’m calling it the natural end of an era and letting this be okay. and it is okay.

everything is okay and is going to be okay.

still, if you have a moment, please do this for me: send me a little story about your favorite birthday. you know you have one. dredge it up. I’ve got two, actually– the one with the fishing down the laundry chute and the one with the blizzard 21st birthday surprise party orchestrated by my awesome brother. there was a time I loved birthdays and would play the beatles “birthday” for myself full-blast first thing in the morning. I’d kind of like to get back there again.

cueing up the white album for the a.m…

Posted on

the avoidance two-step

it’s back and forth and round and round I go. some things get accomplished, some things accrete, and I circumnavigate them. I wake up again and again in the middle of the night and read and write words with no particular path or agenda. refuse to evaluate relative success too closely. have meaningful conversations with friends, in person, by phone, via email. feel marginally saner. do some prep for annual salary review, plan to do more, and retreat soundly into fiction for the duration of a sunday. fail to take any photographs. okay, enough, this is not going to devolve into a litany of failures, which is always far too easy. sometimes the gorgeous world sucker-punches me. sometimes I manage to feed and clothe and care for myself somewhat like an adult. sometimes I lie awake long into the night and wonder what equilibrium looks like. most importantly I keep going in some direction that looks something like forward.

Posted on

for undoing the winter blues

at least this is a sathead’s happy tactic.

A Delicious Cup of Cocoa

  • 2 heaping teaspoons of cocoa powder– I use Droste, or else, if I must, one of the standard available baking brands, Hershey’s or Nestle
  • milk– I prefer 2%; just, I beg of you, do not use skim
  • a pinch of salt
  • one large cup or mug
  • one soft throw
  • one good read

Pour a goodly measure of milk into a saucepan– for me there is no measuring this, but then it is my Tiny Talent. Say, enough to fill up your favorite big mug.

Turn the flame up high, even tho all the books say low– milk scalds faster with more heat, and I am preternaturally impatient. Simply stick very close by to catch it before it boils over, because that’s just a big mess all over your stove; trust me.

Dash in just a splash of warmed milk, and stir to a rich paste. If too pasty, dash in a splash more.Mix your cocoa, sugar, and salt in the bottom of your big cup.

As soon as the milk begins to rise in the pan, turn off the flame and pour into the cup. Stir mighty well. And you might want to hang onto your spoon, since it tends to settle.

Install yourself with throw blanket and book.

Enjoy.

Posted on

oh, hello

NYTimes, 1/1/08:

A Clutter Too Deep for Mere Bins and Shelves

snip
Excessive clutter and disorganization are often symptoms of a bigger health problem. People who have suffered an emotional trauma or a brain injury often find housecleaning an insurmountable task. Attention deficit disorder, depression, chronic pain and grief can prevent people from getting organized or lead to a buildup of clutter. At its most extreme, chronic disorganization is called hoarding, a condition many experts believe is a mental illness in its own right, although psychiatrists have yet to formally recognize it.

snip
Ms. Johnson says she often sees a link between her client’s efforts to get organized and weight loss. “I think someone decides, ‘I’m not going to live like this anymore. I’m not going to hold onto my stuff, I’m not going to hold onto my weight,’” she said. “I don’t know that one comes before the other. It’s part of that same life-change decision.”

snip

Dr. Peeke says she often instructs patients trying to lose weight to at least create one clean and uncluttered place in their home. She also suggests keeping a gym bag with workout clothes and sneakers in an uncluttered area to make it easier to exercise. She recalls one patient whose garage was “a solid cube of clutter.” The woman cleaned up her home and also lost about 50 pounds.

“It wasn’t, at the end of the day, about her weight,” Dr. Peeke said. “It was about uncluttering at multiple levels of her life.”