Stable in the context of my own hysteria

I've moved this from live journal to word press and am trying to move more from a journal to a blog (whatever that mean in my own head).

We shall see.

So if anyone actually reads this thing you might want to go to http://anazario.wordpress.com/ where I will be adding new entries sometime soon.

The box from the farm had  a bag of pistachios this past week and I confess an addiction.  I've hidden the bag from myself with the hopes I will not make myself sick by eating the entire contents of it in one sitting.  Pistachio nausea is particularly grim.   I don't think I saw a natural colored pistachio for at least the first ten years of my life.  They were always dyed red--staining the fingers. . .what was up with that?

It's been an eventful month and the only way I have kept myself sane is by starting multiple knitting projects. . .I'm currently working on six different ones. . .at this point I'm totally compulsive and I have given into the madness. . .I may start a 7th.

There's a pair of sock (STR pattern):     


A scarf (from a stitch dictionary):


a cardigan in pieces (from big girl knits II)

A lace cowl I will gift (stitch dictionary:


A lace Scarf (stitch dictionary):


and a cardigan(adapted and customized pattern and stitch dictionary:


At least these knitting projects start me off on my stash busting.  I intend to knit down my yarn stash significantly  during the coming year .  Also try to break my impulsive yarn purchasing.  My stash is substantial and given these economic times, it is probably unwise to add to it further.   I'm cataloging all my yarn on ravelry.com with the hopes that listing my complete stash and facing the enormity of my collection will keep me in check.

In between impulsive knitting We moved into the Library Annexes at work.  Circus tents. . .working in these bubbles would be okay if they didn't smell like the inside of a GIANT PLASTIC bag.  Ah PVC. . .lovely. . .

During the past several weeks I heard Sherman Alexie speak twice. . .once at the Facing Race Conference in OAKLAND, CA and the other at the Herbst Theater as a fund raiser for Writers Corps.  Two very different talks. . .though some content did overlap.  As usual I laughed a lot a both.  He is a funny performer. 

The tone of the Facing Race Conference pissed me off a bit though.  There was a strange hostility underlying some of what he said that I found repellent, though I can not name what he said that triggered it for me.  Perhaps it was my mood.   Perhaps it was his flat, black and white description of the complexities of the interweaving of class and race--that is a gray space in my mind--shaded and shady.   He covered a lot of biography--terribly sad story but also magical because he managed to overcome it.  An inspiring but prickly. . .maybe he was not crazy about the audience or the context.

I really enjoyed listening to Sherman Alexie at the Herbst theater even more.  He was introduced by Luis Cancel--a Nuyorican art world guy--he used to run the Bronx Museum.  I think he may have even founded it.  It was really strange to a see an old familiar face out of context.

Alexie was in rare form, a kind of joyful energy, perhaps because it was a celebration for writers corp.  Maybe because it was about poetry and he is more in love with poetry that other forms of writing.  It was a gleeful presentation.  He seemed naturally high and I picked up a high listening to him myself.  It was the first time I had heard him read poetry live.  I'm not a poetry person.  I go through phases in which I make myself read a least one poem 5 days a week.  And I do it, but it is like taking a vitamin. . .I know it is good for me but it does not light up my senses the way fiction does.  But when I hear impassioned poets read, like Alexie, and they make me think and laugh. . .then for a moment I understand the poetry thing.  But only for a moment.

I've been reading Sherman Alexie books for a number of years now.  And I've gone to hear him speak at least 4 times now. . .at least. . .its interesting.  He touches on the same themes and sometimes even tells the same jokes.  But since I am at a different place in my life at each reading, I hear different things. . .This time about mourning and self reflection.  Compassion.  And also misapprehension. . .a moment in which a woman is revealed to be an animal, a human animal because she scratched and sniffed her hair.  Probably she was never anything else in her own mind even if she did wear kitten-heeled red shoes and represented an idea to Mr. Alexie . . .

I'm going back and reading emails and notes. . .views of family,  identity, colonialism, race, class and psychology shifting over time. 

Somethings been happening to me lately.  A shift in a sense of self that is both welcomed and unexpected it.  Part of it is the Bay Area, my relationships with those I love, the presidential election and my age.  I' m not sure how it will shake out out.  But for now. . .at least briefly. . .wonder  dominates and a sense of delight.  And hope.  

Though there is a part of my mind always waiting for a disaster happen. . .

Setting aside moments to watch hummingbirds though. . .it doesn't get much better than that. . .

Up too early this morning, I filled out my ballot.

California and San Francisco voting is a strange thing, particularly after the short ballots in New York and New Jersey.  Long lists of propositions.  And being a good citizen means some reading and research.  I was even unsure in terms of which way to go on some of them, particularly those related to government and enforcement structures.  Not to mention the battle between reason and feeling. 

My ballots are filled out now though and I feel surprisingly satisfied by the process.

Let's hope I'm equally satisfied by the outcome.

The past few weeks have been odd in tempo but the November rain provides a quiet time. 

I'm distressed by reminders of other inevitable cycles, beyond voting  . . . family dramas. . .children having children, ignorance breeding ignorance . . .

And then there is that other cycle, death.

Dr.  Sam Longmire died earlier this year though I just found out in the UE mag.  He touched many lives, including mine.  He was an English Professor at the University of Evansville (where I was a student many many moons ago) and taught literature and composition.   A kind compassionate witty man, who taught us and made us laugh.   He almost made me love 18th century English Literature (almost) And unlike most, he listened, really listened and made his young students feel it.   When I was in his composition class he took time to help me with my writing.  I read my first George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss, in another one of his literature classes--much to his astonishment, I was hooked (I suspect he didn't cared much for dear old George and he was utterly confused as to why I adored her).    He listened to hopes and dreams and managed to be both encouraging and practical.   When I was deep in the madness of extreme culture shock (southern indiana after all my life in NYC was a shocker) he helped make me feel welcome in that strange midwestern/southern space.  And he shared his stories. . .about Romania, Universities and far off times.  What a delightful man he was. . .

Cycles ending and beginning kinda puts things is prospective. 

I sit here, surrounded by lists of things to do and before I begin, remember to open the shades and look out for a moment.

Counting the days until Monday out of town conference. . . space. . .light. . .

Tired.

Wondering about hate. . .ego. . . small minds. . .cruelty. . .The election is getting ugly

It's been a long time since I posted here.

My life has been sucked into chaos. . .work chaos. . .home chaos. . .

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  If all goes according to plan I will be able to get out of town for a few days.  The internet librarian conference for a few days. . .on my own. . .with a computer. . .some pens, knitting, and a few days of relative  solitude.  I'm hoping to visit the turtles too. . .is they're back in the tank.  Some to reflect and redirect. . .much needed

Away from the everyday that makes up too many of my moments.

Re focus. . .focus . . .focus. . .focus. . .

What do I want?

Meanwhile. . .

Just a few more days putting my forth year review together. . .I will do what I can and then it is out of my hands. . .

Maybe if I don't get reappointed I'll go to law school even if I am nearing 40. . .

Yikes. . .

I haven't posted here in along time. 

It's not as if the voice (or voices) in my head went silent or anything. My brain is still full of chatter. .. endless chatter. . .rarely profound, mostly inane. .

By the way do we all know that there is an entire Tom Waits concert available on NPR?

And have we all tried Cuil.com as a google alternative (its okay but not as all knowing as the Google).

Life has been full of activities in the past five weeks (or has it been eight?)  and in some ways I have found my way through some murky interior landscape.  Things are still a bit foggy.  Complicated.

Also, in between the muck, had very much fun. . .parents visiting
. . .sunny hot days outside the city. . .an exploding watermelon (ooops). . .
beautiful murals. . .
delightful tea gardens. . Rose garden . . ..

engaging moments of being. . .not to mention some good wine.

I also re-adjusted a lens. . .tried something I feared. . .failed but feel much more alive for the try. . .

Sometimes I slip myself a bit too much poison. . . but this time the posion seemed the cure. . .

Old habits. . . I remember when I was the nicotine queen.  Actually I feel like having a cigarette right now (nothing like self-pity to may the self want to smoke).  But I will not allow myself to because I am a non-smoker now.  Besides. . .I seem to have a little cough. . .

Anyway I am back on track . . . doing. . .  letting the words tumble out in make-believe land. . . it was great to have so much time off  to read and write. . .

As for the real me. .  . well she's reading. . .more than a few. . .Salmon Rushdie's latest, Enchanted or something. . .amazing. . .I like his work. . .really relate to something in them. . .but whenI listened to him speak in San Francisco thought he was a bit of an arrogant prick & somehow embodies both what I love and hate about the "cosmopolitan" thing. Maybe I need to watch some Woody Allen. . .  Also reading another sci fi by Julie Czernada, this time To trade to the stars. . .

I'm back to work. . . I can find meaning there if try. . .one moment at a time. . .enough to stay a float. . .for now. . .

I watched Atonement tonight. . .and though I liked a few of the actors. . .I can't say it was a great film or even a good one. . .even if I did cry. . it felt a bit empty. . .

Empty. . .its all about expectations.. . .hmmm?

There are figs in the farm box this week. . .such a indulgence on the tongue. . . small sweetness.

I've taken Tuesday off, I don't know why.  I should give it back but I won't.
My day to wander the beach and maybe lands end. . .Sounds good doesn't it?

But maybe I will give it back. . .sigh. . .

So Passing Elena is out in the world. . .gotten a nice stack of rejections but I am sending her ou again and again. . .its time. . .

The new one is just a mass of words. . .but it is finding form. . .

I wish was a painter. . .the gray fog amplifies the colors. . .saturated greens. . .dream stuff. . .

All is madness.

I'm going insane.

Lots of good adventures I long to document but  . . . no time.

I need a little quiet stillness.

Eventually, I will have it. . .

To many things are unraveling. . .long held concepts. . .MELTING. . .

A few stolen minutes for reading. . .read "deep economy" . . . makes me feel somewhat hopeful about reality. .. some in the field of environmental policy say it is too simplistic and superficial.  But for someone like me. . .with only edges of knowledge about the subjects-- it was instructive and inspiring. . . even if it is about the heavy changes needed. . .

You just never know.  Your number could be up at anytime and could come unexpectedly.  A poor lady got squashed by a redwood tree  not far from where I live.  Yup.  One's number can be up anytime.

Speaking of death, I can't say I would recommend watching the movie "The Bridge".  Something very creepy about watching real footage of people jumping to their deaths.  Yes it highlights the tragedy of suicide.  The despair.  The mental illness.   The loneliness.  The anger.  But the ways its shot feeds on death and in a strange way the viewers feed on death too.  It draws one in as a participant. And it left me disturbed.

The sun came out and the city heated up to near 80 which in San Francisco feels like a heat wave.  I did some walking and the sun kissed my skin.  I'm still high off it.   It was fun walking around seeing all the others drawn out by the weather. 

I'm working on finishing up stuff at my job before my long break.
I'm already looking forward to another weekend. . .

We netflixed the bridge but have not managed to find time to watch it yet. Beautiful bridge, Golden Gate. I suppose if someone wanted to end it all that is a stellar way to do it. But a little too much rush--falling and all. I think if I were to do it I would walk into the ocean and let the water take me away. . .choke on the depths. . .if I were to do it in the city I would walk in next to the cliff house in the mean waters. At night. Not that I'm planning to do anything like that anytime soon. I like to feel the sun on my face and to watch the colors dance across the water so I will stay on shore, for now.

Last weekend was a good time out of town. We took a few days. First stop was Point Reyes. . .looking at the lighthouse one afternoon, windy we walked down. Over 28 whales spotted in the area that day. We saw one. . .Don noticed the water blowing and then we saw its gray head come up briefly.


A friendly tourist took our photo together


One thing--really cool the rocks near the light house covered with living pigment. . .check out the shades!

We spent the night in a lovely little motel, the Motel Inverness. . .very cozy. . .I loved watching the light fade from the main room there--rocking chairs by a mind--marsh outside. . .many birds. . . .

And next day we hiked and elk munched near by .  I really love long walks and hiking. . .

It was delightful. Lush and green. Wildflowers blooming. I want to spend more time that way. . . hiking. . .listening to small sounds. . .watching life move. . .
A self-portrait on a lovely day


Took loads of Photos

I was wowed last night. . .we went to listen to Bill McKibben speak.  Charming public speaker and environmental journalist.  The analysis and discussion got my brain whirling.  Going to make more changes in our lives-- Don and I have agreed certainly less zipcar for sure--need to re-wire some of the social activities to more productive ends.  Also want to participate  350 as it happens. . . .

Must read some of McKibben's books that Don has been trying to get me to read. . . this Deep Economy book looks well worth the read.. . .must put the science fiction down to do it. . . .MUST PUT THE FICTION DOWN. . .

random background music thought . . . a few lines from a Doors song:
"What have we done to the Earth?  What have we done to our fair sister?  Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her, stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn and tied her with fences and dragged her down. . ."

Speaking of the environment, the bats are under attack and that is a very bad thing. . .they eat bugs I don't like. .and even though when I lived in High Falls I worried they would tangle in my hair I really don't want anything to happen to them. . .

On the upside more bad old television available for viewing online for free.

The case study article thing-ie is almost out of my hands. . .that is a beautiful thing. . .

And the fog has lifted. . .precious light!

I have a Bill Moyer's habit but since we don't have the TV plugged into cable I watch Bill Moyer's journal online.  Just watched a segment  well worth watching --an interview with Nell Irvin Painter --she talks about the now of the populist sentiment but mostly talks about the history of it the populists movement and the last turn around century from 19th to 20th.  It has all happened before and it will happen again .  .  .

Still plugging away at the article/case study thing . . .writing and also reading tons of articles and writing some more. . .my brain is not happy . . . MUST READ fiction . . .SOON SOON SOON

My addiction to podcasts continues.  On my walk in on some mornings I listen to Philosophy bites --little 15 minute looks at philosophy.  Hobbes and the idea of all against all fit one bleak morning.  The other afternoon I listed to one on the nature of being a cosmopolitan.  A narrow discussion but I like the word. . .Cosmopolitan. . .and not 'cause its a pink drink either. . .

Stray thoughts.  Better get back to work. . . .

My imagination is at it again. Over active spirals connecting imagined gestures.  It easily gets out of hand, forging pathways.  A sure sign I need to write some fiction sometime soon.

Meanwhile I'll enjoy another grapefruit with honey.

There was a bit in this weeks newsletter from Terra Firma was about Fruit Orchards and the difference between fruit Orchards and forests-- wild competition vs. careful cultivation

The wild competition is the natural form. . .tree fighting other trees for light, space, dominance.  Cultivation the unnatural form.  either in the extreme is dangerous.  .  .

All about balance.

So beyond the literal-- I can't help but adopt it as a metaphor for some of the current tensions in my now. . . moments where the forest shadow's threaten or the straight rows steal all breath

Baby steps will get me out . . .

Sometimes behaviorialist stuff works

A sinus infection has been kicking my ass all month. . .had to crawl to the doctor last week and she gave me serious antibiotics. . .some powerful stuff that BAM-banished the bacterial infection from my system. . .It's only been 5 days on the antibiotics and I already feel like I'm flying. It's about time.

The rain has stopped too. A delight to see the sun and smile and breathe thru my nose!

But I was pretty miserable for a few days especially since I was sick I couldn't even knit.  But then I remembered Woody Allen. I've had a thing for Woody Allen films for as long as I remember and since I was flattened out sick and could do nothing but doze and watch films. . .so I watched Annie Hall, Husbands and Wives and Deconstructing Harry, all in one afternoon while Don was out watching the super bowl with friends.  I really adore Deconstructing Harry--I think that is the best of the more recent films.  Husbands and wives is an ugly film but I see it with a different lens now that I'm older.  As a matter of fact all the films are different to me now that I am older.  Still love them, they still make me laugh.  The Venom is a little clearer to me.  And so are the complexity of adult relations.  But what I love most about Woody Allen is his sense of "other".  Particularly in Annie Hall.  I like the gaze.  I recognize that gaze. And his commentary on orthodoxy in deconstructing harry made me laugh and nod. The other recurrent themes on men, women and the creative ways we betray each other and ourselves is bloody fascinating.   That was an afternoon well spent while Don was out watching the superbowl.  Though his description of the last few minutes of the game made me wish for  like a nano second that I had gone to the party even if I am not into sports

Once I was well enough to read again I started reading

Dematerializing: Taming the Power of Possessions by Jane Hammerslough

_Your Money or Life_ is a better book--more practical and gives a template for actually taking back ones life and controlling ones finances. But I am enjoying reading Dematerializing anyway even though its no _Money or your life_ because some of her insights on just how much we have commodified and just how deep our materialism goes. How, for some, economics, class, what a person can own or can buy, is who they are are--for some a sense of personal identity and self-worth is driven by the accumulation of things or their own sense of "class" or "taste". She argues that a sense of self constructed by objects is often an identity that is emotional and spiritually empty.   Her examples make me re-examine my own life and the elements of my life that I allow to be driven by materialism. Yarn is where my materialism obviously  manifests but I would be lying if I said I would tackle that (after all stitches west is later this month--though I did give away a good deal at the yarn swap the other night).   And there are other spaces where it creeps in, in ways I had not thought of and that I'm going to try to be more vigilant about.  I am not what I buy any more than I am what I do for a living.  I should mention that there is also a danger of defining oneself not just by objects but also the absence of those cultural objects or a different set of objects (Like the Green festival theme of consuming "Green")--this too is a materialism. . . .

I'm trying to pack my lunch and so far have been pretty good about it. . .

It was a strange few days. Too sick to do anything, even knit. . .then finally feeling better, watching films and reading.  I wandered in my own thoughts trying to make my own sense of it. 

I can't wait for all traces of the illness to be gone. . .

Democracy Now! had an interesting report on a new book about the economy called:

Free Lunch: How the Wealthiest Americans Enrich Themselves at Government Expense (and StickYou with the Bill) by David Cay Johnston (Hardcover - Dec 27, 2007)

The interview can be seen at http://www.democracynow.org/2008/1/18/free_lunch_how_the_wealthiest_americans

One statistic the report highlighted is that the amount of money the richest 1% in the country has is the highest since the beginning the depression.  yikes.

 

Okay--what is up with the state of California being in such bad financial shape?
What is up with that?

Why don't they just raise taxes. . .particularly taxes for the wealthy?  Then we could afford the state services the people need.

I don't get the complete lack of regard many of us seem to have for the common good.  We need health care, education, libraries, structures for the common good. Even if it means higher taxes.

Putting aside the idea of the common good. . .Do the elite think they can survive even if things become anymore unbearable for the poor and middle class in this country? Where do they think their privilege comes from?  Where will it come from if things continue to degrade? The wealthy in this state and country don't even have the common sense for self-preservation

The lack of concern for the common good is terrifying.  It's obscene.  Particularly in California where there is such wealth--you'd think the wealthy would do their civic duty and contribute to common good by deeds and funds instead of protecting their own asses and doing their best to make sure the government does not infringe on their rights to buy more and more piles of stuff, including multiple homes etc etc. 

I'm pissed about the California Budget crisis.

Why is it that the poor and middle class give a higher percentage of their income to charity then do the wealthy?  We also pay a higher percentage of income to taxes than those who make more than 200,000 a year.  What is up this that? 

Disgusting.  Disgusting. Disgusting.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Home sick yet another day, drowning in my own snot. This should just be a little cold but somehow has settled into my chest a bit. It's all those years being the Nicotine Queen. I've been a non-smoker for years now but still haven't recovered from the damage--self destructive youth. Sigh.

At least I only got sick the last few days of vacation.

Spent New Years Eve at Trey and Ken's party, childhood friends of Don's also fleeing from inland empire hell. It was a mellow party, the drinks soaked in and the conversation flowed until after 3am. Getting home by bus was an adventure. Watching youths vomit. Very pretty.

Then Don and I split town for a few days and went a little bit south to a charming little town, Cambria, just off the 1. Stayed at an Inn. Meet a few characters at the wine and cheese hour. Visited town shops with beautiful glass works. It's elephant seal mating season and so just a few miles outside of Cambria we stopped at some observation points to see the seals. It is such a trip to see wild creatures that close up. I kept a safe distance--they are f-ing big creatures--beautiful. To see mammal sea life that size, in their natural environment. . .well this city kid got all teary.


Cambria is near Heart castle so we went for a tour and that was a serious trip. What a vulgar display of wealth.
Mind boggling.
  Viewing the place, I was struck by the magnitude of ridiculous consumption the place represents. Though I wouldn't have minded a dip in the pool or the roman bath

What the tour did not do well which is what would have interested me would be the social a history of the place. who built it? How much were the workers paid and the staff that kept the place running--what were they paid, how did they live, conditions, habits, who were they? How much of the hill top did he have to blow up to build the place? A more even handed look a Hearst would have been nice instead of the syrups sweet he was a swell guy pitch. If the place is being preserved by the state for its history they should use it as a lens for the history of the time in all its layers, from the wealth and power of Hearst to the history of the ordinary people who worked in and around the area. . .something.

On an up note the views from the place were delicious
 
and the flowers delicate


After the Hearst tour, I caught cold

We drove to  an Inn in Pacific Grove.  By then the big storm hit and the town was without power.  We huddled by the fireplace int he main room and chatted with strangers.  Not a bad way to spend a storm. But I'd like to go back sometime when the lights are on. . .

Anyway, until the cold, a lovely break.

Now we are into the New Year and I feel like I need to make time to get the plans and goals in order and I will if the snots recede and natural breath returns. . .

My cold kept me at home Tuesday night though Don and I had tickets to see Social D again.  He took ken instead which was fine since I was is no shape to go.  Perhaps we'll catch them again in Feb. . .

Democracy Now had a piece about the Machetero crack down in NYC and it reminds me that I really need to send the blasted Elena novel out into the world for a last go before sticking in oblivion's drawer.  Then in May I can spend my time on the new one. . .no more NY and PR or even earth . . .another world. . .

Vacation time! Vacation time! Vacation time!  (doing a  little dance in a circle).

Not so crazy about getting on a plane.  Must convince parental units to spend the holidays out here next year.

Podcast.  NPR is it!  I enjoy the story on the singer

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=17311075


Librarians on committee neither fish nor fowl.

Things are looking up.  It was not just mood last week but I was in fact sick and spent part of the weekend throwing up and sleeping.  I feel so so so much better now though still run down.  The body is an amazing thing.  Ejecting poisons.  I still want to sleep for months.  Let the poisons seep out.  Still can't get warm though.   I can't remember how I managed to stay warm in cold NY winters. . .I swear I am colder here. . .what is up this that?

Work is a strange whirl--piles of things I need to get down, if only I could focus the brain.

I'm already packing for the week in NJ with my parents, packing  in more than one sense.  A messy time of year.  I feel. . .messy. Fun with the family is a complex endeavor.   Possible.  But requires preparation and careful planning.  The memories stay packed in boxes and I try to be in the moment.  I am a grown-up. (She tried to convince herself).

The self, the self, the self.  The self is melting.  I forget who I was trying  to remember who I am.  In the now.

So I tried to pretend I wasn't sick for a least a few hours this weekend.  We went to the Dickens Fair at Cow Palace.  Originally I planned to go because a friend from work is a performer there.  It turns out she was not there on Saturday when we went but it was a good time anyway.  Lots of folks in costumes of or near the period.  Top hats and hop skirts.  Corsets and curls.  We went to the French postcards show with a few racy moments and I have to say it was nice to see multi-sized real women in such a thing---some thin, some heavy, all beautiful in there own ways.  Wouldn't it be nice if more real bodies were seen in such a public way instead of starving air-brushed creatures?  Maybe then more of us would grow up without such complex body issues.  Don and I wandered both alone and together and ran into an old friend of his, a costumer/singer/artsy person he knew in back in the Inland Empire Magenta Brooks.  She and her husband have a nice energy and I hope we see them again sometime now that they are relocating back to the Bay Area.

Knitting like a madwoman trying to finish up gifts. . . .lots of calorimetry's


and Smidgeys:
 
and also a shawl from victorian lace today. .

I have a thing for knitting lace and lace knitting. . .why?  I don't know why. . .

Soon I will have time to start on a cardigan for myself in yummy malabrigo worsted weight in autumn mixed colors. Hmmmmmmmmm.  Also am looking for the perfect tweed yarn to make a hoodie cardigan.
 
What to do with Escarole, normally I really get into cooking with the stuff in the terra firma veggie box and I easily find something to do with the stuff, regardless of what it is. . . but what to do with cabbage and Escarole?  I am frankly at a loss.  I keep opening the fridge and the greens are just looking at me saying--come on girl, figure it out. . . I have Googled recipes and nothing is appetizing.  Of course, I have been sick for days and it makes sense that nothing is appetizing. . .sigh. . .

I enjoy newsletters from the Terra Firma farm. . .the content is all over the map . . . a little politics. . . a large dose of farming alchemy. . .commentary on this that and the other thing.   Maybe because it is the holidays and it is hard to focus on anything not related to time off,  this past week  had a bit about recreation at Lake Berryessa, up and over and down a winding road from Napa. I've been there once--drive down a windy road with Don--he has many childhood memories about summer visits there . . . anyway now I have an imaginary snap-shot of the farmer guy kite-boarding on the man-made lake . . . no one around. . .  is he intentionally seducing his audience with mention of silence and isolation on a lake in the off-season?    The newsletter goes out to hundreds of  CSA subscribers and so his being so forthcoming could result in that place being found by more people in the off-season. . . CSA members disrupting silence by looking for it  or maybe even looking for the man kite-boarding.  Must admit I had to look up kite boarding on wikipedia--then was like--oh yeah--I've watched people doing that at the beach. . . human sea-birds skimming on and above the water. . .

Speaking of isolation and silence need to make time to chase some of my own silence. . .
I've been letting life just happen to me a bit too much. . .

Anyway. .  . I must prepare for the cross country flight. . .all kinds of packing to do. . .

And once again I fail to send out bleeding holiday cards in time or at all. . .one of these years I will remember. . .damn. . . damn. . .damn. . . .

Knitting tomorrow night should save me from my own madness