Sunday, September 30, 2007

The Love Train
I just finished watching The Bachelor (on days it doesn't matter if you don't have tv. everything is online). And now I'm telling O'lover how i'd go about GETTING THE ROSE if he were the bachelor.

First of all, i would wear 100% silk--dyed a pale rose tan from red onions and chamomile tea. i wouldn't bother combing my hair or using product. (So far most of the other girls are disqualified because of O'lover's immediate detection of things such as nylon, rayon, and other synthetic fibers that he opposes.)

i would trash the place because come on it's just a set and everything is fake right? And out of my silk handbag i'd produce my glue and while the rest of the girls get tipsy or drunk, i would thank my lucky stars i was raised mormon and don't drink cause one sip and i'm an alcoholic singing made-up lullabies in a perfect stranger's ear, i just know it. and as a contender i have a strategy--which includes saving the lullabies for later.

And then
the ripping begins and the embellishing, the piecing, the texturizing. THE FLURRY OF ARTISTIC ACTIVITY. O'lover is most impressed that i pause periodically to smile deliciously because come on baby you know what i'm doing...

"What else would i do to attract you honey?!" I just shouted to Oliver who is now in the kitchen breaking up a noisy cat/dog fight. "Wear green?" he just shouted back. Hmmmm. that worked in real life....but no, "I'm already wearing rose".

So back to the mansion. My only real competition is this clever girl who'd brought a can of spray paint:
I'd be really jealous but she always walks that way with a crick in her neck and bumping into furniture. Oliver likes someone who can be cuddly.
i just realized i insulted bony-angular-girl so i could win MY lover's affection. SO UNCALLED FOR! okokokokokok. snap out of it. i don't have to be jealous or mean. Oliver is not the bachelor. we're already together.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

i just finished watching "broken english" with parker posey.

which somehow uncapped me and all my fizz runneth over. spanish is my first language. i still remember moving to the states and feeling mute and like i'd never get it. and after all these years the kid inside continues being on strike & still upset about the relative infrequency of kissing and hair petting. because i had been used to it ALL THE TIME. things have changed. i've "over-adapted" and i barely pet anyone's head or play with anyone's hair unless i really can't help it (have you seen emily buhrley's hair?). i kiss people but only if i'm absolutely certain they won't mind. and i rarely read the dictionary to make sure i'm not missing out on something. but i remain hopelessly unable to hear my mom's supposedly heavy accent.

and last night O'lover and i roamed the streets for hours. we watched the moon play hide-and-seek behind the clouds and i remembered how much of my summer was spent indoors, with fluorescent lighting in an office with no windows. and how it seems that all the rules that we've created, all the restrictions about what success looks like, about what's expected from an adult, about how can you be in your mid-30s and be fine that you don't have children (And I am perfectly fine. because really my life is SWEET.) and on and on until i feel so reigned in that i can't breathe.

And as soon as our house is rentable we're outta here. to go where the rules are different and i might fall in love with being an adult again. and i know, i just know that upon my return i'll be seeing p-town with fresh eyes.

and fresh eyes are just what i need.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

A few years ago Rye sent me a pic he took of a group of Cambodian midwives.
one quick glance into the crowd
...and there she was...
shiver-me-timbers & knock-me-over-with-a-twig if she isn't how i want to BE,
with her loving eyes, her capable hands.

WOOSH...up the chimney went my plans of being a finger-waving opinionated old lady.

and so i've cropped the pic to just her (by far the eldest of the women), printed it multiple times, sent it to friends, gave copies to the church girls, and now keep "Oshurah" (my name for her) in my basket of inspirations.

i wonder about her life experience, her BEAUTY...and who she really is.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007's chilly and we're acclimating cold turkey. We've always turned our heater on in September. But this of us (please say it wasn't me!) decided we'd be bad ass enough to forgo this modern convenience (until October). And for my niece and nephew, who remember exactly what page there was a mild swear word in Harry Potter, remember that your Auntie Quellie's icy fingers DEMAND a curse. Your pops will explain.

Onto a warmer of the perks of being married to the lover is a daily update on what the stars and moon are up to, play by play. And some of it is sinking in. For the next couple of days while the moon grows full Demeter mournfully bids farewell to her daughter Persephone who rejoins the dark handsome Hades in the underworld.

I too must say goodbye. To the hot weather that is, and to the brazilian hammocks which provided comfort all summer long.

O'lover, it's going to take A LOT of your hot chocolate to get me through this winter.

p.s. i did a wheelie on that cute motorcycle today. it was mostly intentional...
seems like forever ago
now that i'm in bed
with two heavy duty comforters providing a foot of downy loft
with icarus nobel, my prized cat, pressing her paws in my ear
and a heavy breathing husband deservedly sleeping soundly by my side

but today i learned how to ride a motorcycle.

after a lifetime of being a very willing passenger it's nice to be able to DRIVE.

thanks reo, for the lesson, and for offering me the bullet bike next. =)

Monday, September 24, 2007

223 West Center Street
At approximately 10:30 this frigid a.m. after more than a year of discussing, arranging, and planning, a hawaiian themed mural in a sorry state of disrepair was forever covered by a Jenni Christensen mosaic.
Sigh of relief!
Keith from Metal Arts Foundry, Jenni, and Day Christensen.
We're cold but very happy.

Jenni, thank you for imprinting Provo with your massive talent. We're so fortunate!
the nights are now longer than the days

i observed the autumnal equinox... watching King of the Hill at the home despot. i wish bobby were my kid i really do. i'd be so proud.
later the gents worked on our lighting. i can't stop flicking light switches in utter amazement. flick- off...flick-on...flick off...blessed be.
liz and I (mostly liz) made hot apple cider in the fort. she added bengal spice tea to the brew. beyond wow. raw melissa brought her kids over for a bonfire and told us about a local giant fir tree that we gotta visit. (btw, melissa makes the rockinest coconut macaroons. o'lover and i have been buying her raw lime and chocolate tortes for our friends' birthdays for a long time.) and then...

after the reo and ollie fire side concert...the torrential rain that doused our party...a long bath...

O'lover brought me a steaming cup of his famous elixir,
hot chocolate made from scratch.
hot chocolate with a voice
and as we sipped it mindfully,
it whispered...
promises of a comfortable autumn and winter...
and someday not too soon and not to far away...spring.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

it's been a month condensed into a week. is there a clinical term for a "life on fast forward" hangover?

The Sego Arts Festival was fun.
James put me on top of his shoulders so i could take this pic.
Teresa Becca Lou

the next morning we were tired but pleased. O'lover's bed head. he said something hilarious about "maintaining plausible deniability." i was (and still am) too groggy to know what he's talking about but those funny words are still kicking around in my head.
We had our breakfast yerba mate in Greg Caldwell's cups.
Then we did yoga. and i dreamt about a small cave in India with my name on it.

later i took a brief refuge upstairs. really i was there to vacuum.


by Marsha Ellis
by Alecia Maher
by rachel farmer
One of Brigham's wives by Anne Gregerson.

it's true.

well, this travelogue is the post that almost didn't happen...YAWN...eyes involuntarily closing...

Monday, September 17, 2007

The One Who Cracked My Code

I’m currently looking forward to entering the stage of the enchantress. No, really it’s a stage. And it doesn’t mean that I will be sociable. Quite the opposite, it means that I will be a witch, in my shell, collecting my thoughts and HIDING… so as not to curse or bless you. Cackle.

And then there’s the crone. When for a week I’m eighty years old and have wisdom to spare and feel a bit less inhibited…because there is no time like the present, and then you die.

The seven days of virgin are among my favorite (not so for the O’lover). This is when my finger burns from the weight of my wedding ring. When I constantly forget that I share O’lover’s name. Mind you, I don’t like hurting O’s feelings when I take off without disclosing my destination but a virgin has untamable wonder and an unbroken stride (and little interest in men).

But really my absolute favorite stage is that of the mother. It’s when I’m clinging, and caring, when I nest and massage, and coo and pet. But 1% of the time it’s also when I over react and imagine offences. When the Mother Bear gets ticked off…heaven help you, my heart rate, and Ollie who has to mediate.

Before O’lover cracked my code my mysterious alternations between piety and caprice were a hairy rollercoaster ride I didn’t know I was on. And then the LIGHT. And we’re having fun.

Thanks Oliver.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Been thinking on the roof again. Which means trying to imagine all people and everything that is happening at that precise moment. people making dinner, getting their prescriptions filled, swatting their kid on the butt, being miserable, being thrilled, blowing sweat off their face, daydreaming about celebrities, people wishing they had a second chance, people hacking a loogie, or holding their pee until after they've written their blog post, and on and on... for a moment the normally dull throb --that comes from knowing there is so much out there and not ever being able to grasp it --intensifies and actually hurts. ouch! broken by the incomprehensible beauty. But somehow all is forgiven and all is restored to wholeness. Om...

And then I get over my fleeting love for the status quo world and get super annoyed about Oliver’s many unlabeled jars of culinary experiments hogging the fridge, the whining dog, and the fact that ever since the movie Amelie came out I can’t try to imagine all the people having sex at the exact same time without feeling like a damn cliché.

And then O'lover plugs my ipod into the stereo premiering the running mix he made for me. The first song is Moby. And I’m reminded how it felt last night to be sucked up by the silt of Utah Lake. Dirty but real. An order of double Om, please.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Some need a lover to bring you dinner in bed.

...and a good friend to make a flower garland and hang it on your door.

Many days you need the nearness of your "other" Mother... who is so good at reminding you of who you want to be.

And most days you need to put the laptop away and take your dog for a nice long walk.


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Around Provo
Do YOU recognize any of these sights?

is this....crafty piece of work...owned by a male or female?

the owl looks like it has been liquid nailed on.

thank goodness for this reminder...(in case you can't read the stencil it says: "...But Death is Always Certain")

this is a portrait of yours truly on a downtown mural.
it's the only time i've ever been able to pull off wearing the color red.
back story: i told the artist (Asen Balkchiev) that he
...uhhh...made my bosom way too large.
after much complaining we compromised.
you can't tell in this pic but i have one small proper breast
and one Balakchiev (read:ENORMOUS) sized breast.
on a 75' long mural its not easily noticeable
but go check them out. i'm not kidding.

("Actually, you really hurt my feelings")
wheat paste on an electric box near heartbreak central
(800 north 200 east)
how many byu jokers thought this message was intended for them...

i'm always hunting for more
and trust you'll tell me of your finds.

Monday, September 10, 2007

hic cup.

charming glitter boy. i love you. it's your birthday today. and you are far away.
oops, not supposed to blog about work.
dear reader,
i'm so sorry for blogging about work. i would like to make amends as soon as i reach dry land.
doggypaddling through the treacherous sea of papers.


i STRONGLY believe the front porch is going to be done tomorrow.


o'lover, i think your lacto-fermented raspberry drink turned into wine.

Monday, September 3, 2007

This is Oliver writing his 1st blog post EVER!
Behind his hand he is smiling good naturedly which is what he always does even when his EVIL wife has done every evil thing she can think of to break his attention. At this point I had given up and was just letting the camera's FLASH go off in his face every few seconds. I have about 57 pics of this exact pose. Uhh...when we order us some kids can i request that they turn out like their father?

And FINALLY, despite many obstacles such as typing one-handed on his wife's girly computer, he finished his first blog post. You can read it here.

And now its my turn to tickle my pretty pink keyboard cover on my sleek silver apple powerbook G4.

This is me with H. She belongs to my lucky brother Marcos and his really cool wife Sheena who are visiting from Tucson for the second time this summer.
I apologize for the dark pic of them. As a very considerate photographer I would never think of using flash in someone's face.

We all went to lunch at a place called Winger's, a restaurant where the menu features a cute little disappointed chicken wishing you would choose something ANYTHING other than what Winger's serves. As everyone ordered Asphalt and Concrete pie H & I decided to leave a bit early and walk home.

Our ambitious route was across the train tracks and through a light industrial area which i used to call
home sweet home.

On our journey we found moss. H loves the texture.

This is H holding the world's largest and heaviest pearl. She found it on the side of the road and lugged the treasure for a mile before we got picked up by Marcos in this beast:
H has been diagnosed with artistic tendencies. A fact which my bro has already many times confided to me. And when H solemnly leans towards me at dinner and conspiratorially whispers how to achieve certain effects--such as how to tap wrinkles into the straw wrapper before taking out the straw--or keep the wrapper wrinkle free...i admit i'm mightily impressed...the kid has methods.

Unbiden, H leaves her mark in clay on the side of the house. We must leave it there. In this pic i think she feels "caught".

H is an artist. through and through.
but she's also a goof.

Nona and H.

Sunday, September 2, 2007

Sucking the Maté Dry on a Typical Sunday Afternoon

Saturday, September 1, 2007

Strawbale Greenhouse- Impromptu Plaster Party Part 1

The tension wires have done their job, everything is level and after eight months of settling the tarps have come off and the structure is ready to plaster. Jason, Oliver, Liz, James, and Georgiana...where's Georgiana? I can't find the video I took of her!
This first layer of plaster is a clay slip. We mix straw with it to patch holes.

The 1 1/2 story greenhouse will have a living roof and inside we will have a ship's ladder to a cozy loft.
Tess and Annalisa- the directions say to paw the clay into the straw like cats.

Here's a pic of the interior with the matriarch/guardian of the hen's quarters.
Lots of thanks to everyone for their help and to potter Andy Watson for donating red clay he harvested from Hobble Creek Canyon. Our skin is spa soft. Thanks also goes to our neighbor Clair for donating really expensive tempered glass for the south face and to another neighbor, Paul, for the fire engine red cement mixer.

p.s. Many of our ideas about green house air flow, etc. come from a visit we made to the Central Rocky Mountain Permaculture Institute last year.