Grout and Rosita.

We decided to re-do our shower (a.k.a. the "bathtub surround" -according to home improvement how-to books). As usual, we forgot that we aren't blessed with superpowers to finish a project in one weekend. So... here we are in the middle of weekend #2, in the home stretch, which is sometimes the worst place to be. And, when I say "we," it's really been Patrick's project- but since it's all but had him sleeping IN the bathtub, I've been keeping up the rest of the house. Running all those errands, walking the dog, and cooking those meals by myself makes me mega-appreciate Patrick's regular contributions. He does a lot. BUT this ambitious project means that I, by default, must do more than usual. So, I'm really tired, and I'm bitching about it. Thank goodness we're getting to do this stuff before children happen. I can't imagine how anyone gets anything done with kids in the mix. I admire anyone who can- but I can say I'm thankful to no end that we got into the homeowning realm, pre-conception. We would not be re-doing anything if we were already parents, and we would not be paying someone else to do it, either. We'd be living with the mauve, vinyl-sided tub walls until the day we sold the damn place.

Once the tile grout is dry, (T - 48 hrs) I get my shower back- and it will be a much much nicer shower- so it'll all be worth it. But right now, I'm sticky and sweaty and angry- and in order to rinse off I must take my shower basket (yes, the same one I used during college dorm life!) to the clubhouse pool showers. While annoying, it's been a very nice option to take advantage of. When we hiked the AT, going for a week without a shower was all part of the experience, and I accepted it without qualms. But at work I have to sit at a desk in close quarters with several people, and smelling like a hiker isn't as appreciated in that setting.

Speaking of my early morning clubhouse shower escapades... I've had the pleasure of stripping down to the skin in the company of my elderly European companion, Rosita. Rosita is the very sweet, very kind, very chatty little lady of Mountain Home Estates, and she likes to swim at 6 am. I've had the pleasure of showering with her before work for a week, trying hard to politely participate in the conversation -despite the fact I'm used to speaking to no one until my first cup of coffee at 8:30. Here she is at dawn telling me I have a beautiful figure. I'm getting hit on by a female senior citizen. Truthfully, she comes from a generation and culture that would never consider such a compliment as a come-on. All the same, hearing this statement almost made me drop the soap as I thought "Am I still dreaming, because this is all too surreal." Again I'll reiterate that she is the sweetest person I've met in this neighborhood yet, and once she talks for a bit, I find myself engaged in the conversation. As engaged as I can be; talking to a stranger whilst shaving my legs.

I've been writing in installments tonight, in-between grouting the tiles. The project, long as it was, went incredibly smooth until tonight. We've been grouting for 6 hours, it's 11 PM, and we've not eaten since breakfast. The grout decided to dry before we could finish laying it. If ever a Saturday night was not fun, it was this one. And when I did venture to the clubhouse at 10 to clean the grout off my ass (literally) - a big skunk ran in front of me. The dude carrying a sixpack up to his front door looked thoroughly confused as to why I stood stone still in his parking lot, holding a basket of shampoo.

Six pack... sounds like an incredible idea about now.

From the archives

Sometimes, when I get overwhelmed or stunned at how quickly the last 10 years have passed, I'll pull out an old journal. I think it's important to periodically look back and see where my mind was at. It's like reading a letter from an old acquaintance. Weird, sure... but that's the way I've always looked at it, and while new journals are for writing in, the old ones are most certainly for reading.

Here's what I opened up to tonight... (in which I am very tempted to change the line breaks , but will not in order to honor authenticity.) It's scribbled and not very well thought out or constructed- but the state of mind I claimed at that time is what gets me. I don't remember that confidence, but this is apparently a record of it:

Oct 14th, 2001

Yes,
I have swam
to both ends of my being. I have
raced with myself. Sometimes
I win, others I lose.
But I have
learned each time, received prizes unfathomable.

I have impressed my soul.
I have lied to my head.
I have nourished and starved my very heart-
and it has all been in love.
In love with the breath I truly breathe,
and the steps I truly take.
Not with the face I contort, the voice
I stifle and the belly I tighten,
but with the honest and able woman
I embody.

I have swam to both her ends
and all her beginnings.
I didn't skip a single in-between,
and I am proud of every moment,
until now.
Now,
I am only in awe.

It's not saying much,

It's one of those dear diary nights... but where to begin?

It's been a great summer so far. Different than usual in I'm not sure what sort of way... but great none-the-less. My one complaint: I'm still lacking the natural tan skin I've usually attained by this point of the season. Don't care about the color of my skin, but it signifies the scarcity of outdoor time this summer. (one exception is this handsome pic. of my boy in the Whites. -->)

I feel like this is headed in a dreadfully boring direction. I want to write what I'm really thinking about right now, but without the ability to screen readers, one can't be too careful. It's frustrating to sit down with a lot to say, and not feel comfortable saying it. And, going completely anonymous just doesn't work for a person who wants to be so open. And, the written word, despite what I think, often portrays my thoughts in entirely contrasting ways from how I'd expect. I feel like I'm direct, but I know from outside sources that most people take what I say as open for interpretation; set up to be "read into." Why is that? I need to make myself a tee shirt that says "hidden meanings" across the chest. See, I find that hilarious, and I bet no one else gets it. Which is fine, because I don't quite get it myself. That's why it's so hilarious. My god. It's been a long month.

I've been trying to find a song to define the way I feel, since that's sometimes easier than trying to get at it myself. Problem is, I always revert back to favorite songs- not songs that truly represent me. The songs likely to represent me are probably gay-ass 80's ballads about love and soaring birds and battlefields inside. New White Stripes album has a line in it: "You can't be a pimp and a prostitute, too." Love that. Could apply to anyone if taken the right way... if "read into." I make the little quotes around phrases too often. I hate those little quotes, and the hand gesture that goes with it... and still I'm guilty of using the ensemble daily.

...shifting gears...

Gathering of the Vibes is coming up next month, and I'm going! Can't wait to get back to those old roots with some tamed down style. Just me and my "sister" Stace. (and, Jess, if you're reading this, please try to come -even for a day!!!) We're going to pimp out our campsite to no end- and hopefully get an ocean view... the venue is Seaside park in CT. We're only in the beginning stages of the plans, but there is going to be an endless supply of food, drinks, and luxury- yes, the theme of the evening is luxury. The outdoor music scene has been calling my name for a long time coming, and this couldn't be shaping up more perfectly. I'm sad that Patrick won't be there to join me, but he's got a school weekend, and I'm sure us girls can still rock it on our own. I'll get away with him the following weekend, when we hit Northampton for our second anniversary. Two years since that wedding... where the hell did it go.

My next door neighbor's ex-boyfriend's car was here tonight. I assume his coming over was a big deal- I think he broke her heart a bit when they called it quits a few weeks ago. To think, a 65 yr old woman got that fluttery feeling while she waited for him to show up this evening. I haven't dealt with that in 7 years... and here's great grandma (yes, a great grandma at 65) getting jittery over her heart's flame. Life is wild- and age doesn't mark experience as much as I'd once thought.

I'm running on fumes- time to watch The Office and forget that I have one to show up at tomorrow.

Slowing down and Simplifying

Been on a higher speed than usual, and I'm just beginning to wind down. In some ways, anyhow.

Work continues to challenge me in non-traditional ways~ constantly allowing me to self-evaluate my actions as I interact with people not of like mind. I am seeing how much there is to learn from those with adverse opinions... while those kindred to me are rarely my most impacting teachers. I would have thought the opposite a few years ago.

My internship still has me juiced, and while it may be slow going, I'm feeling thankful for the patience I've gathered. It's marked a turning point in my life; turning back down a path I once traversed, but now travel with what I'd like to call wisdom. To be direct, I am re-finding morals and values that were once clouded by concern of acceptance. I guess that's what the late twenties are- tossing the bullshit and deciding what is and isn't me. It all makes me so happy. Even better, I've got a personal, new-found motivation to be ecologically conscious... and find myself now thinking that way all of the time instead of part of the time. I have some new resolutions to work on. It is a sound calling.

Spent time with dear friends yesterday and we all wondered why that time was so infrequent. Maybe the lack of a community to belong to has me feeling like that- I'm not sure. Just seems like most of the people I love- most of my "family"- falls into the long-distance category.

On the upside: I made 4 more necklaces and 2 more pairs of earrings this week. It's getting easier, and is a soothing absorption. Still very simple designs, but then again, I'm in a simple kind of mode these days.

fingerprints and promises

Feeling ridiculously complete.

Just when I was afraid I couldn't bear the monotony of work much longer, I acquired an internship position that couldn't be more stimulating. I get to help save the planet on company time. It's probably the best opportunity I could have asked for: Instead of nagging at people about my personal beliefs on environmental consciousness, I get to enforce recycling, conservation and waste reduction as a job responsibility. The list of requirements is daunting as hell, but the trial and error of setting sustainability initiatives in place is going to be (and already has been) a major motive to learn more about something already close to my heart. There's such deep inspiration that comes from knowing I'm going to leave my fingerprint by reducing the footprints.

This weekend was pretty close to perfect. Well deserved margaritas on Friday night after a long, busy work week. A well-executed wine and cheese party with good friends on Saturday. A warm, peaceful afternoon by the seaside today. Many enjoyable moments with Patrick throughout. I feel closer to him than ever.

The inscriptions on our wedding bands are promises. Promises we've made not to each other, but together. His reads: "to make the world a better place." Mine reads: "to cultivate beauty." Our hope was, through loving and supporting each other, we would encourage each other to fulfill these promises. We would socially improve, and physically beautify the place we call home.

To evaluate our progress at this moment, I'd say we're headed in a great direction.

Saints and Squirrels

I came across Mr. Francis here when in a church garden in the North End of Boston last weekend. I remember I used to see him everywhere in Ireland when I went to school there. Frank always shows up in the garden, in the most serene of landscapes; his stoney animal friends often juxtaposed by real birds flitting from flower to flower in that little gated paradise. I think we should stick him in less likely situations. At the front entrance to a factory. By the landfill. In McDonalds. Let's challenge ourselves to remember the patron saint of creatures great and small in real world situations- not in perfectly sculpted green lawns, where we can simply smile and say "Isn't that nice." After all, what's his message all about?


Here he is with a missing hand, which I found rather hilarious.... Lion-feeding accident, perhaps?? Even the human icon of the peaceable kingdom isn't exempt from the payback we're bound to endure for trading in our survival instincts for our troubled, busy, dissatisfied minds.

The birds in my own backyard are abundant and active. I tried feeding them and was enthralled with how quickly they caught on to the new seed location. However, the squirrels followed suit, and wiped out a month's rations in an afternoon. They're pretty cool, but the birds got the major raw end, and I was going through seed too quickly to continue feeding those already chubby, bushy tailed rodents. I need to block the extension pipe for the feeder with something that can't be climbed. I did try putting out suet, and for a week or two the birds were able to dine undisturbed. But, like they mastered the seed feeder, the squirrels eventually prevailed over the suet box as well:

I suppose there's still a hierarchy no matter whether you're feathered, furry, or nude.

pre-conception of rhythm, I hope.

The second entry.

It's like the second day on a new job. It's way more difficult than the first.

You know just what to expect, but you're still so uncomfortable.
You're past the point of "where's the water cooler?" but you still aren't sure you can find it on your own. You have your notebook to cling to, and you know who your safety blanket is, but someone else still sits at your desk until the end of the week. And, when you make it to that first Friday, and start tacking up photos of your dog, everyone walks by and exclaims "I can't believe [Mary] is gone!" - a sentiment with which you fail to empathize, considering you very obviously occupy [Mary's] space, and the news of her departure has been public for 2+ weeks.

I've been in my position for a year, and despite the onslaught of monotony, I don't miss being the new girl.

All this, because of my second entry... which really isn't a second entry because I've been writing on these types of forums for years. I guess I just need a rhythm.

My life, in general, would like a rhythm (not to be confused with a routine, because I have a trustworthy one of those, and it's not anything I aimed to obtain- it just sort of happened). I think I move in and out of temporary rhythm, which isn't much like rhythm at all considering consistency can't very well be sporadic. Then again, rhythm can change, and should change for the sake of interest... so I guess I like the idea of sporadic rhythm. I like contrasts- Darkening the shadows and lightening the highlights, yet still moving from black to white by means of the notorious gray.

And now that I'm on a rhythm right here, I have to go. Sporadically.