13 more days

and i've still done almost no shopping. It is sunday, and we should have been out there all day, but we aren't.... just has been a long and tough week and we needed the weekend more than we needed to mail gifts. I'll make progress yet this afternoon, and more tomorrow. Girls will be home wednesday, perhaps then i'll feel the holiday?

I am feeling the need to write again... perhaps if i open this window to fiction i can get ideas. A million have come into and back out of my head this week... i hate that.

one that i did think of yesterday was erotic in nature... "feed me." been a while since one of those came to call. We shall see. Off to best buy, yippee.

sunrise, or not

it is a gray november morning, and i'm waivering between productivity and depression. It is monday after all. but there is work to be done.

Girlfriends

Girlfriends. The kind that go back to diaper days with you, or drinking too much the first time, or your first trip to Planned Parenthood. The ones you told when you were pregnant and didn't want to be, the ones you cried with after the miscarriage. Somehow, they understood.

Over my last vacation i got to see two of them. Anne, my artist friend who had the foresight to convene the playgroup that was my sanity when my kids were little. It was good to connect to them each in their own way

Anne shared her art with me, as she has done for 20 years now, inspiring me to pursue my own. For an artist, she is the practical one. I remember learning about "complete proteins" from her, and when i asked her if she wanted to go on a trip with me, she said yes. I said, "when" and she said, "Next summer." Perfect answer, yes?

And Deb, whose business has consumed her life, in that way that is much like being in love, where you hate it when you aren't doing it, but you can't wait to do it again. Perspective, one of those things that keeps balance. Deb, my neighbor for just enough years to make it feel like forever. Her mother said of our neighborhood... it only happens once in your life when you are all young and like each other. Enjoy it.

back from the lake

The lemony light of late summer in houston is deceptive. It seems calm and fragrant and welcoming from indoors, but as soon as you go outside the air feels thick and heavy, as though walking into a sauna with too much light. The plants with full sun fade with sunburn, the water is too warm to refresh. It is still here, no one ventures outside except in the early morning or the late evening. A time of reflection before the renewal of fall.

I have just returned from vacation and started taking calls again today; the phone has been ringing all day and i am glad for that. Nothing quite as scary as coming back to work caught up.

A new client advised me that the law site is down, i will need to check into that.

Lake Shore Lit has reverted to the five year plan. The general scheme involved writer's workshops, writer's in residence and small press publishing. Because the site I liked best was a restoration project with three floors, the first floor being retail, I'd been considering a satellite bookstore through the summer months as the town is mostly populated by summer people. However i don't think working with B & N is feasible on that basis, and the wonderful independent closed down under the shadow of the giant, i'd have to recreate the wheel. I am hoping to learn more about that end of the project from ABA.. in this instance the American Booksellers Association.

I got a whole list of needy artists from TALA today so that part of the new venture is proceeding as planned. There is so much to learn, and it is good to be able to combine my two worlds for a change.

healing

Little by little normalcy is returning, though i do have trouble spots. Picked up a flyer on healing the mind, body and spirit when i was in the Heart Center, and though it was intended, I think, for the patients, it spoke to grief as well... reminding me that when one part of the package is broken, they all tend to fall apart. Which explains why my appetite and libido seem to be absent I suppose.

I addressed it by going to the Y, and trying to de-clutter my living spaces. Seems to me that the clutter absorbs the energy I need from the place right now, and besides it is too hot to be outside and i'm still not focussed enough to attempt work. I need to get back to it though, have an estate plan that i've been putzing around with since April. It deserves more than i have to give right now though, and if i'm not back with it by Monday I'll refer the work out.

The ABA journal ereports today that doctors are considering a policy resolution that allows them to refuse care, except in emergency situations, to plaintiffs lawyers. i'm not a plaintiffs lawyer, but that Niemoller poem comes to mind. First they came for the plaintiffs lawyers. The past three years of Patriot Act, Sarbanes Oxley, etc etc make it hard enough to be a professional. Now we have to worry about medical care? And not just for the lawyers... their families as well. My guess is the AMA won't bite, but adopting such a resolution to illustrate access issues seems to miss the point. Either that or the Legal Aid numbers showing the number of underserved people needing healthy attorneys is over stated.

overwhelmed

Thursday, June 10, 2004

I did see the sunrise today, undercoated clouds of brassy rose, apologetic in their delicate beauty. Or perhaps it is me, apologetic for wanting to continue life, continue to appreciate what is there in the sky and all around and in the people still with me. In denial I am sure.. what better way to deny grief than to go on as usual?

I'm trying to put many things in context. My mother's death and funeral, the sensation of homelessness that goes with the realization that I have no living parents now. At best I am drifting, feeling lost mostly because I was in such production mode and her death just sort of makes me want to stop, find and touch feelings that I don't want to feel. Non-productive, to be sure, but I think there is something profound just under the surface, or perhaps that is simply grief, nagging about all that I wish i could change, should have changed.

I think the best thing to do is to write around it until the real words find their way back into my head.

Then there is the experience of BEA. Coincidental that the only parts I got to attend were those focussed on writing and books. There was almost nothing for the publishing in the first two days... Lake Shore Lit is back on hold for now... the easy answers i hoped to find at expo now will take real research, and perhaps need to slow down. There is no rush, and many reasons for caution.

And perhaps it is important to write the book that I've been waiting all these years to write.

You might note that there is now a format change here... i may leave this to simple blogging and move the sunrises to their own page, though i'm not clear in my own mind if I will continue to write them.

I'll post some of my notes from BEA here later.

just the sunrise

The clouds seem to be moving from the west to east this morning, only a pale patch of pink lights the horizon as the smoky remnants of the night sky brush past. It is hot already, I sit on the patio in the pale light and the birdsong is tropical, full and intense. I think to when my life felt that way too, full, intense, heated with the dampness of passion and feel movement covering up the taste of if going too fast, too thick. I watch the pale patch, trying to hold onto it, let it give me inspiration for the day, hope if you will, but the clouds aren’t slowing down.

But as I watched the pink rose disappear and the smoky haze take over hiding what might have been left, something else did happen. The light of the day arrived, turning what was gray to pale dove, hinting at blue skies. It isn't the same as having a beautiful sunrise, a smile from the earth right to my heart, but it isn't as bad as constant storms either. I guess it is just like life.

out of the mouths of babes

The buttery light melted around the palms this morning, shadows on the potted plants gave me the sense of a European courtyard. The sounds of breaking day hold the morning like parentheses, an owl like hoot, a ground pecked chitter. The faces of the petunias curl up and over their own foliage, trying to feel the sun, and I want to do the same, just stand there and let the morning light lull me into the full day. It makes me want to dress in blue, and feel the worlds my fingers itch to create. But I have to wonder, as I look at the list of things I need to accomplish today, if that isn't just another allergic reaction.



I've been in parent mode lately, both of my own kids and in "village" agenda. A week ago, my youngest son went on a Date. It wasn't his "first"… but it was the first one to something other than a school function. Actually, three "couples" double dated… a trip to the movies. Arranged via conference call between them.

Did I mention that he just turned 11?

To be fair, my son isn't as interested in the girls as he is interested in doing what his buddies are doing so he can hang out with them. In fifth grade, I know from memory and years of observation of his three older siblings, the Girls hormones kick in big time. They NEED a boyfriend… not so much to do anything with, but to pair with their initials, giggle about at slumber parties, and fuel imaginations that for the most part don't go beyond holding hands.

A short trip down memory lane reminds me of Larry… my first Love, He was redhaird, freckled, and wore black leather boots with pointy toes and tight jeans. Larry was cute. And popular. And well, back then I was … not. Lets not push my own mother's ugly duckling analogy too far…

What I did have was early development. I was one of the first girls in my class to … you don't really need to know all those details, but suffice it to say that in 5th grade I'd already achieved 5'2" of my towering 5'4 and a half"…. And well. Larry hadn't,

One day we were talking…imagine that!… and he told me that he only didn't "like" me because I was "too tall." Heartbroken, I asked him what I was supposed to do about THAT, and with the logic I now recognize had no source in malice at all, he advised me to get in the dryer and shrink, and then use a brick on my head every night to keep from growing. The original sensitive guy…

Larry dropped out of school before we graduated… last I heard he was still wearing pointed toe black boots, but had added cigarettes and lost his hair. He never did get to be very tall either. Ah well, he had his chance.

Back to present: Somehow, due to seniority in parenting and pure stupidity, we were assigned the transportation responsibilities for the Boys. It was made clear to us that there was no need for us to sit with them. Or even stay in the theater once the PG 13 tickets were purchased. The movie was Hidalgo… horses… the girls chose. I was just glad it wasn't Scooby Doo….

No need to drag out this story. The girls were at the theater when the boys arrived. They already had their tickets… so the boys breathed a sigh of relief that they might have to part with some of their hard earned cash… and got in line for refreshments. Not one of them spoke to the three young ladies waiting for them. Not one offered to buy them a pop or popcorn or….

We went into the theater. The kids wanted to sit in the top row… and I figured we'd already done our job so we sat lower.

The boys sat 1,2, 3 next to each other. The girls likewise. The boy and girl sitting next to each other were not a "couple".

We heard intermittent giggling, and sadly one patron turned about to hush them. (there were maybe 15 people in the theater. It was a late afternoon matinee.)

The movie was okay. But Long.

The boys left to go to the bathroom three times. The girls only once.

When it ended…. They still were clumped together in their respective gender swarm. The boys were out of the door before we even caught up. The girls… stood looking after them longingly. I smiled at them… I know them from school, and told them not to worry, it would get better. Kelly, my son's "date" told me "we know." Hmm.

When asked how it went, son said, as he does to nearly every question, "it was alright." The three of them then broke into tunes from Barney, asserting that the Barney theme song was a cover for "This old Man"… which they proceeded to sing at the top of their lungs. After that, it was the ants go marching…. I was just glad we dropped the other two off before the bottles of beer came out.

Have I mentioned how delightful eleven year old boys are? I know, from experience, that it is just to make us love them enough to let them live through twelve.


.

kiss of dawn

The sun is just starting to lighten the sky... it's very humid... the clouds are stirred up on the surface like they have something deep beneath them that wants to come out and hasn't yet found its way. the image is one of steaming, boiling heat... and as I look away to write it, the sun slips up high enough to turn the sky bright rose, threaded with lavender, purple really, in a bright flash of color that I have the sense was there only for me, only for that moment. My reward for waking up early, the kiss of dawn. It is a start.


good ideas keep pouring in on the publishing co. Looking for a new name for it. Any ideas?

growing things

This morning is being gentle with me today, the clouds are in motion, letting the sun peek through enough to keep the air warm, shading it enough to keep it cool. The scent of jasmine is heavy in the air, and there are enough birds to make company, but not enough noise to mar the perfection. The breeze pushes the fronds of the palms, grown so much now there is the sense that they have been here all along and it is only me that is out of place. I love how things grow here, fast and furious, as though there is only so much time and so much life that needs to be fit in. I think it is a good lesson to learn.


It was an interesting week.

~I moved a step closer to making a decision about the publishing company with research and conversations with someone who jumped into the field two years ago. The biggest obstacle right now is that I want to publish fiction. But fiction is the hardest area to get established in. My contact advised me to pair it with something commercial, at least until I get a reputation established. Commercial… genre work or non-fiction. Something else to think about.

~My doctor prescribed some good drugs for me last week…. Steroids. I've been dealing with a lot of pain from an old knee injury for about a month now, had the stress of last week pounding my emotions, and suddenly broke out in a terrible rash. I have very sensitive skin, and am used to rashes… keep a prescription on hand that usually kicks them right away, but I was out, and worried that the rash and joint pain were related. Well, okay, worried that the depression was a factor too.

I'd complain about the lack of intensive time with the dr, but the medicine she prescribed worked. Worked very well. I have to wonder how much of the stress was agitated by the lack of sleep. I confess to overdoing the first day because it feels so good to feel good.

It is a declining dose though, and as I wind down on the prescription, I am limping again. I suspect it is time to consider knee surgery. Yuck. But I am thriving on the lack of physical pain, which makes it easier to deal with the mental. Health is a complicated matter.

sunrise, 80 proof

The early dawn was painted with the shades of Italian wine today, the deep purple of Chianti, the blush of rose. As more light added, it mellowed to fine brandy, a translucent shade with subtle fire and sparks of something even hotter. It took a while, but it lit then to rose, that rose that to me means passion, sexual passion, and the color filled the sky in alternating swaths, like a lover taking turns, the passion interlaced with cool gray indifference. The feelings overwhelm: joy, rage, contentment, restlessness. I find myself needing closure on passion, and wish it were easy to categorize, and file away.

The colors vanished by dawn of course and now the sky is filled with detergent clouds, as though telling me to shower, start fresh, be clean. Like a religion that requires only emotion and no thought, and I resist, because I have, after all, a logical mind. So long as I can keep my focus there, I can handle these passion cleansed days. So why do I keep wanting to divert my eyes?


on being back on the "shelf"

The hardest part of practicing law, when things are going right that is, is the emotional investment you make in any given deal. Not because there is anything wrong with that, in fact the adrenaline tends to make the process exciting and sexy. But when the deal is closed, and the client moves on to the next phase, whether it is the new job or the new business or even if it is the spending of the money from the sale, the lawyer gets dropped. No more daily calls, sometimes twice or three times, sometimes hourly. No more important email that only you can answer for the client because you know he trusts you most. They go on to live their lives, and the emptiness they leave is for the next client to fill, or the next or the next. No wonder so many think it is like prostitution.

I'm feeling that way this week. I spent a lot of time in the last couple of weeks with a friend whose life is changing. But now he doesn't need me anymore. I feel…. Abandoned. No… I don't expect anything different… it was the point of the change after all. But it is so easy to be seduced by the need, that someone really counts on me, that my life makes a difference, not just in retrospect, but day to day.

So the depression sets in.

In other news, my children are home on spring break. My oldest is going camping in a few days. It is, she thinks, her last spring break in college (she has more than enough credit to graduate early) and since "we" couldn't go anywhere, she feels she should take advantage. Can't say I blame her. As much as I hate camping, I'd like to run away with my boyfriend to the beach and just stay there too.

My younger daughter is another issue entirely. She's fallen in love with a boy she met online. Online only. They plan to meet after the break and she is nervous…what should she wear, should she get her hair cut, why won't the sun come out so she can get tan? I waver between telling her to be careful and encouraging her, because I know how much more important relationships formed on line can be than those from real life. I know how good, and how bad they can make you feel. So I am listening to her. And trying not to impose my experience on her. Except where it is good.

Last Tuesday my baby turned eleven. Fifth grade is almost over. He was only in preschool when I first found this world. Now he has girls calling and has to be reminded to use his deodorant and worries about his hair. The time goes so fast.

So I am the caretaker this week, picking up the pieces after last week's focus has moved on, trying not to touch too much or too heavily on the lives of my children,. And feeling overwhelmed with emotions I have no right to feel.

And here I am again, typing to a screen. Good thing it doesn't rust.

starting again

and so it begins

reversing prisms

The air is perfect now, if there is such a thing, the sky scattered with streaks of thin clouds that do little more than soften the periwinkle sky. Around me, everything is in motion, heading for its stasis I suppose, even the sun has started moving back to due east where I expect it to rise. It is all pure white today, the effect of the thin cloud at the horizon doing a reverse prism thing, putting the light all back together for a change instead of breaking it down to its various wavelengths and coloring the morning. Today, it is a matter of bold directness, and the shadows that creates.

It makes me introspective, and objective. Makes me look at myself to see who I am, and what I have become. I have been trying to wear the hats that I like the best, choosing the rose or the blue from the spectrum instead of treating the whole person. I've justified it by the needs of those around me, to the exclusion of my own needs. I think it is time to put myself back together. It is time to recognize the white light as what it is, the sum of all the colors.

This experiment in sensitivity has not served me well. I feel that instead of becoming more the person I wanted to be, I became invisible,

No one wants to be invisible. No one wants to hover in the background.

unraveling

The sky is starting to lighten; the birds are in full chorus. Smoky wisps of gray reach across the sky like wool fibers from a fine sweater unraveling; the days are warm now, though I suspect that by sunrise it will all be gray. The sun has been flirtatious this week, sometimes shining right on me, other times leaving me surprised in the rain. The gray tells me not to push too hard. Sometimes the best way to get by is not to look for what you know is there.

growth

The mist rose like magic crystals, turning pink and gold and glimmering as the sun lifted it up toward the sky. An unveiling, calling attention to what she was doing, until the mist was gone and what remained was a day washed in gentle tropical breezes, lit by clear skies and a fanfare of light. I hear at least five different birds singing, and I remember how four short years ago, there were no birds at all. They say everything is bigger here, but what they should say is that everything grows faster here. Palms that were to grow a foot a year now lace fronds in thick clumps that the rain forest with feel comfortable with, and the wisteria has taken over both a bench and two sections of fence.

And between all the singing and all the lush growth, the sunrays still find their way in to me, as though saying there are things that no amount of foliage can hide, because they live inside, protected from the fanfare of the mist and the opus of day. And they keep growing, too.


~~will try to post something else later today... words or pictures... hard to know. but i wish you all had the weather we have in south texas today.~~

This day needs Chocolate.

Another day of rain, which means another day of milky sky without distinction. I started to write more about the world outside, the color of the flowers in the lawn, the cold, the way it makes me want to pull the covers over my head. But I re-read that first line, and wondered if I could actually be satisfied with that… a day without distinction. And the answer is no. Because I cannot stand the thought that something as miraculous as the sky, something as unique as another day in this world, should be marked by its nothingness.

So I will try again.


A million prismatic crystals or rain splattered against the windows, driven by wind from the mountains I hear. It brings with it the chill of snow that never quite makes it to me here near the coast, and I shiver in the pale morning. The sky is hidden behind the rain, its clarity obscured by the falling droplets, until the effect is milky, the light all jumbled into a mass of gray. I don't like milk, it is too thick on my tongue and so is this sky on my brain, too thick, too many nuances and conclusions to be drawn.


I do know its value though, understand health and the strength to be gained. I accept it, I know it is for my own good.


Maybe the day, like milk, will improve with chocolate….

inside out

The sky is the color of cold wind this morning, though compared to much of the country, a mild cold. The clouds are creased, turned inside out and there are only traces of what might have been silver in their lining, only gray seams to hold them together. They are effective, though, in keeping both the warmth and light away.

I could dwell on it, feel the melancholia and the chill, or I could hide from it, crawl back beneath the sheets and let the feather pillows knot beneath my head until they scrunch up around my face and block my view. There are days when that would be better.


But today there are things I want to do, moving forward things, so I will smooth the sheets, and wear a sweater, and dare the wind to ruffle me. I feel more alive when tousled anyway.