Monday, December 17, 2018

Where fore art thou?

I'm here.

And I've got a lot to say.

I've been reading my posts from the last few years and sometimes I wonder who wrote that? It's pretty good sometimes, heartfelt, reaching out, curling in, introspection, new direction, where is that girl?

I read something recently that said to live in private, grieve in private, love in private, basically just keep it to yourself. I get that. It makes sense. And for all my outward joy and grief and thinking out loud I am a private person. However, I also like to think that when we give a little glimpse into our private soul we set a flag out for someone else to follow. Maybe that bit of angst will make it easier for another person to get through their angst that day, to know that they are not alone.

I have a very small and very special few in my life who I've learned to trust. Trust doesn't come easily to me, or rather I want to trust people so much and have learned from vast experience that we must learn to protect ourselves.

How do we walk that thin line between being open and closed? I don't really think it's the same all the time. As a highly sensitive person emotionally I tend to close up in public, mostly to block out the unwanted intrusions of anger and sadness that can both draw me in and leave me feeling beat up and thin. It's a self preservation mode that I find necessary. I'm easily distracted by children and dogs though, their sweet selves aren't much of a drain and in fact can be a boost to my energy levels.

What's with dogs anyway? Some dogs I cannot stay away from but some I don't even want to look at. They're usually the pushy frantic ones or the needy ones. I live with a needy dog but his heart is so kind and caring he fills me up with joy. His need is mostly for fun and he just cannot understand why we aren't always wanting fun like he does. He's also the one with his head on my foot, hiding underneath my desk as I work, wanting to be close, until the hammering starts, then he's gone.

Veering off into something new, as usual. It's like a commercial break when the thinking is hard.

Those few in my life remind me that it's okay to be open, even if only in small amounts and with a very small group. They are my safe place. I never had a safe place growing up and so learned to keep my true self pretty well hidden. Later I had a daughter and she once said that she felt I was her safe place, a place to unload, to be awful, to be able to be sad and lost and needing reassurance. That was and is one of my best memories of being a Mom. To be someone's safe place is both terrifyingly difficult and uplifting in the highest sense.

I'm pondering safe places in the aftermath of a huge fire 40 miles away from me, knowing it so easily could be me and finding a bittersweet joy in my home, that fragile collection of things. I grieve for my neighbors who have lost so much, even their lives and saw a video of a woman who had lost everything but was eager to get back and rebuild her home and town. What an incredible spirit!

My home is the place I can do and be anything. I can dance or sing or talk to my animals. I can be open to the sky and the trees. I can meditate on the stars and skip happily around the yard. It's my own jewel box of comfort and feeling good. I invite only those special people in who fill my well with grace and kindness and sometimes witty, wicked conversation. How would I feel if it was gone?


A couple of years ago there was a fire in my backyard, which happens to be a state park. I wasn't here but the flames were quite close and the walking trail is still scorched and black, with dead trees and the brush starting to regrow. I was only concerned with getting my old kitty out safely. And in the back of my mind I was rebuilding, planning, thinking of how I'd like to live if I could start from the ground up.

That's what we do, we rise from the ashes, we create safe zones for ourselves and act as safe places for those special folk we love. We endure and rebuild and we never give up.


Monday, April 16, 2018

Conversion and chart mania

Like all 50's babies I grew up immersed in the Imperial system of measurement. I believe I was in grade school when we started the slow road to converting to the Metric system.

Well, it sucked big time. The Metric system isn't hard but the ridiculous conversions just about killed me. I'm not naturally mathematical, my brain works best around words and colors but I am gifted in organizing so algebra later became easy. But why didn't we just do it? Toss the stupid rulers and go for complete change, forget the conversions? Oh well...

Then one day we stopped. WTF? Was it too hard? Did we run out of money? I'm sure there are in depth discussions of why and who was at fault but the Metric system just became one of those things the foreign folk did and we didn't worry about it unless we planned to travel.

Fast forward fifty years and I'm still struggling with the Imperial system, inches and quarter inches and eighths and whatnot. Slowly I've been moving myself over to Metrics.  I see the simplicity of millimeters and centimeters and how easy they are to deal with, especially with very small units of measurement.

However, it's still not perfect, if you want to go slightly crazy look up Wire Gauge on Wikipedia and see if that makes any sense to you. Though I've just about got my mainstay wire gauges figured, 22 equals .6mm, 20 equals .8mm and 18 equals 1mm.

Here's my handy B&S Gauge chart...

Not to mention the sanding grits, oh my gawd, save me, this is just one example of a sanding set I use regularly. This is only one of the many. 

Now Pi is my friend, who da thunk it? If you want to make a ring that actually fits you've gotta learn to do the math. Inner diameter plus the thickness of the wire or sheet times Pi and then add on a bit more if it's going to be a thick ring, holy cow.

I am now fluent in millimeters, me and my digital calipers, and have gradually moved over from listing small measurements in the ever confusing inches to the more easily understood millimeter.

So, I apologize if you can't quite understand the measurements I'm using. I still list necklaces in inch length. If you want a measurement in inches just let me know.


Friday, February 16, 2018


How do I even begin to explain the wonders of this charming country? My life revolves around colors and textures, around sound and small and sensation, all of which there are in abundance in this incredible country, from deepest jungle to desert island.
We started in the jungle, stepping down to the tarmac into thick, wet air, skin drinking it up immediately. We were met by a friendly Mestizo man, good humored and knowledgeable about his country. The Eco Lodge is two hours from the airport on a two lane road, which seemed a kind of rough until we experienced more of the local roads. The trip back to the coast the road seemed like a major highway. Tiny towns, huge Mennonite farms off in the distance, everywhere houses made of concrete, palapa roofs here and there, strange trees everywhere. Then, San Ignacio and a six mile trip over roads the politicians hadn't gotten to yet (they'll wait until the next election), rough roads, bounce you around and make you hang on tight, washes of water hiding who knows what type of deep hole? I ended up with big bruises on my shoulder from crashing into the window lock. Then I got smart and moved to a middle seat where I could hang on with both hands.

Deep dark night by the time we got to the resort, but even in the dark we got a sense of the wonderful experience waiting for us, the lovely cottage, each named for the type of wood in the central beam. And it's humid, everything is wet and doesn't dry. There's a fireplace in front of the big bed, which we indulged in each night, flickering light warming and drying the room, flickering on the walls, pure romance.

The plants, sweet goodness, the incredible plants everywhere, climbing and displaying their colors, philodendron doing what it does naturally, climb big trees and kill anything it gets a hold of, slowly squeezing it's host; bromeliads tucked into every tree crotch, and others sending tendrils down to the ground to gather extra nourishment, rooting from the top and going down. My enameling brain kicks in and starts designing vivid pink leaves.

We wake up and toddle outside, gaping like a pair of city slickers, down to the huge outdoor restaurant, to find food at your pleasure at any time, plus the covered bar ready with a luscious pineapple and rum drink. It overlooks the Makal river and the bird feeder brings toucans to munch on the watermelon left there each morning. Later we see another type of toucan perched in a tree and more birds that I've never seen, including a Mot mot with his gorgeous coloring and unusual tail feathers. I am enchanted and thrilled when we see a large iguana climbing a tree and gratified that none of the snakes made an appearance on our entire trip. Note to self, don't do a google search on Belizean snakes before  you go.

Hanging out as the evening drops over the jungle.

Every day is a new adventure. We head out to the San Ignacio market on Saturday morning to have breakfast cooked local style, tortillas patted out by hand and filled with stewed chicken and rice and beans. Then onward to Xunantunich, one of the large Mayan sites and a smaller one, Cahal Pech. Our guides are Mestizo natives, many who speak both Spanish and Maya and have the features from carvings on the temples. We hear an otherworldly sound from the temple....a roaring that has us wondering if dinosaurs are in the trees. It's howler monkeys, small 20 pound fellows with HUGE voices, an incredible experience. Monkeys creep me out, I'm glad to give them a wide berth.

We take a wild ride on a Polaris, through small communities to the Barton Creek Caves where we load onto a decidedly tippy canoe. Wearing helmets and headlamps we head deep into a limestone cave to experience a Maya holy site, water dripping off the walls and ceiling, which gets lower and lower as I feel my heart rate climb, whew. The culture here is steeped in Maya belief, the Ceiba tree is sacred, it's 13 layers of heaven, it's main body inhabited by humans and the 9 layers of the underworld. Here the creeping limestone resembles the roots of the tree. The priests would spend many days in these caves, communing and offering blood sacrifice. These caves resonate with power. I am very glad to see the light on our way out and feel reborn to the earth.
Two hours back to the coast, hop on a water taxi for the 75 minute ride to Ambergris Caye and off the taxi to CHAOS, scores of golf carts, agressive taxi drivers, bicycles, scooters, motorcycles, people everywhere packed into dense housing and businesses. We stumble into a great restaurant, sand floors and delicious food, cold beer, what can be better?

Well, it does get much better, one 7 dollar taxi ride down the island and we find that we've scored a cabana right on the end, this is the view from our bedroom window! Plus the bar/restaurant and lovely pool is right next door.

Oh my, can't believe how wonderful this is, the breeze blowing through the cabana. We quickly make reservations for snorkeling the Meso-American reef which is the second longest reef in the world, behind the Australian Great Barrier Reef. We see all the usual suspects plus get to swim with nurse sharks and manta rays, and on one trip get to touch a shark, skin rough like sandpaper. Adding a first for me of an eel and a lion fish and squid and a spiny lobster that would have fed six of us. This is the most challenging snorkeling I've done and I'm grateful for a life jacket to keep my ocean panic on a low level. I'm not a natural swimmer and being bashed about by waves while trying to swim against a current are almost more than I can handle. But I do and feel fine about the whole thing. I've become a critic of boat ladders, loving the big sturdy ones with flat bars for your feet, old feet attached to old shaky bodies do not do well on round bars, hurts dammit, but it's a small thing.

There's a Mayan chocolate shop in town and we indulge, twice. My man finds a coconut and manages to cut it open and we drink coconut water from the source. He's a, you can't try to smuggle a coconut home...don't even ask! I won't show you his crazy pic, complete with ocean hair and I don't care, but imagine him half monkey and half Ernest Hemingway and you can imagine.

An excellent vacation all around, much deserved and enjoyed.  The journey home is the usual grueling day of plane rides, confusing and aggravating trips through customs and finally the blessed climb into our hot tub and our own bed, with a happy barkathon the next day. I'm so lucky to have a companion to explore the world with, next up might be Costa Rica.


Monday, January 29, 2018

Drawing to a close...

Or, what the hell am I gonna do with all these leaves?

The bounty of rain last winter made for lush maple trees but I swear my back yard is knee deep right now.  Of course I exaggerate and wish dearly that this winter is as wet and wonderful as the last.

As 2017 draws to a close I get to reflect on the year past which was mostly wonderful and filled with fun.

My work as joyful, my skills improving each time I fire up the torch or grab my saw. I love it when a long time customer says she's liking the direction I'm headed. I think I'm more confident in being able to actually make the things that float around in my head. I've experienced more success while pushing to my limits.

This happened recently...

I'm not sure how many I'll make but it was fun and I'm keeping this one for me. My son wants one next.

I'm taking time to explore more stone setting and my love affair with turquoise. I finished this Wednesday this week and sold it on Thursday at the gallery, to a long time customer. This one was hard to let go of but to see it on the hand of such a nice lady was especially gratifying.

I've taken the time to learn about good turquoise and through the web have been able to buy superior stones directly from the miner/cutter/cabbers, which about the only way you can be completely certain of the quality of any stone. You pay more but it's certainly worth it. Why spend days setting a stone knowing it's a dyed piece of junk?

My family is healthy and happy doing what they do, living life, building memories, learning that loving is compromise and seeking to understand as well as being understood. I take that to heart also, knowing that the rough times make the easy times so much sweeter. I revel in each moment of looking into my loved ones eyes while we share a meal and holding hands, whether they are large and strong or small and soft.

I've been thinking a lot about cherishing each moment and each person in this minute because the next might not be here. I love the holidays, each light display, each bit of greenery, each present wrapped and sent or placed under my silly little tree. I love the gatherings and the songs, ooooh, Christmas songs, which I find myself singing softly wherever I go. I'm not the least bit religious but who cares, beauty and love is powerful no matter the root.

And while I love the holidays I recognize that it's not completely joyful for everyone, me included. I am grateful for my strong shoulder who is available when the sadness of missing overwhelms me. It's okay to be sad, to miss family and friends who won't be with us these days.

Compassion. Being as gentle as possible with ourselves and those around us, offering help to the weary, a hug to the lost, and finding time to center myself between the green trees and the blue sky. It's all good.

Peace to you and the happiest of bright New Years!