Songs to make you laugh and cry

Modern Girl by Sleater-Kinney

About Face by Grizzly Bear

Island, IS by Volcano Choir

Darkly Smiling by The Great Society

the great struggle

Help!
I should be working, writing, washing my clothes. Why
am I constantly having this heated argument with my best
self - consciously creating a situation where I slip slowly
into a state of unmotivated malaise?

The real problem is

resting

on the fact

that all I want is to be sitting on the beach
with a pint of ben and jerrys and a glass of bordeaux.

Writing Woes

Feeling things and actually writing them down are completely different realms. Sometimes I read other people's blogs, short stories, novels and think, that's not so hard. I could write that. I think those thoughts all day long. And yet, it is hard. Beyond hard. It is like swimming through sand. What is the right word? How will it come off after it is written down?

Creating is difficult, whatever the medium. It is the translation from what is on the inside to the outside world. And because everyone sees (hears, feels, reads) things differently, it is even more difficult to know whether or not what you have created is being perceived the way you meant for it to be - which, by the way, rarely happens. Not to mention, most of us have conflicting views within us.

So, if someone is trying to convey their opinion of how terrifying marriage is, the same reader could completely agree and, simultaneously, disagree. Therefore, the writer has to either be very convincing with the argument so the reader has no choice but to agree (or at least understand), or vague enough for the reader to interpret in what ever way he/she chooses.

So, all of these thoughts run through my mind before I even set pen to paper, making it nearly impossible to create one intelligible sentence. A teacher I had in the past told me in order to minimize this anxiety, just write. Write a bunch of junk until you hit your rhythm, then keep going. Later, come back and edit. Cut, re-word, and add. Check spelling, grammar, and punctuation.

It all sounds warm and fuzzy, but I can't do it. Can not. The only thing I can do is to keep trying. I guess I'll do it my way. My way is slow and leans very heavily on the "I can't do this" procrastination technique. Perhaps I'll publish when I'm in my 80s....

Madmen yourself

Since we all pretty much pretend we live inside the AMC show Madmen, chain-smoke cigarettes all day long, drink copious amounts of whiskey, and sleep with Don Draper, now with the help of the world wide web, you can put yourslef inside that world. Sort of. Madmen yourself. Go ahead. Try it here.





This was mine.

Hot Chili on a Chilly Day!

Throw a bunch of stuff in the crockpot and let it sit there for the entire day and what do you get? Spicy chili enough to feed two bike racers, one pregnant lady, a guy who has been working on his house for two days and me, a voracious eater. And that's it. No leftovers.

After dinner, C. said to me "I think we should just keep the crockpot out all winter, don't you?" And, he's right. It is the perfect cooking tool for winter meals. Lately, the days have brought cold winds, days of rain, and cold mornings. Even though Fall has just began, Oregonians are already preparing for Winter. It's really all the same to us. Once we have that last warm summer day and the rains come, it doesn't really matter if it's 60 degrees or 40. So, get out your crockpot and warm up!

The End of a Season

Today is October first. It's chilly when I leave the house and rain drops cover the ground and plants from overnight showers. I pull my jacket tighter around me and take in a deep breath of air.

In Portland, welcoming Fall is like coming home from vacation. Back to regular life. When you go away on holiday, there is excitement. Something different. A change in routine. But you are always excited to come home. You are tired. You need your regular sleep and your home cooked meals. Summer = vacation.

For nine months, Portlanders are used to more or less the same weather. Sweaters and long pants. Boots. Scarves and hats. A light rain jacket. We are used to cozy. We drink red wine in low lit bars. We snuggle up with a blanket and read books. We play board games and cook chili. We go to movies, plays, lectures.

There is excitement in the air almost. A return to the world that we know. Summer is over and we put our dresses and sandals in a bag under the bed. We can't tell one another we are excited, because we will think the other has gone mad. Why is he ready for rain? Didn't he appreciate the beautiful sunny days? The mojitos in the park? The barbecues in the back yard? And he did. And you did too. But this is the flight home. We are comfortable in our winter.

Pumpkin carving party anyone?

And it produces!

With the name of my title, I just realized why it must be called produce. Ah-ha!

Anyhow, the garden story continues. I apologize for the two month delay, but my summer job did not allow for the mid-afternoon leisure that my regular job does. And so I'm back, as Gloria Gaynor would shout, and with photos of the garden's progress.

Early spring brought radishes, cilantro, and arugula. Then came early summer with lettuce, beets, peas, collards, chard and oregano. Mid-summer gave us more collards and chard, carrots, cucumbers and broccoli. And at this moment, we have little squash, one nearly ripe tomato, several smaller cucumbers, and one bell pepper. We also still have chard coming up! Some photos: