Momma Mia this post is FOR YOU!

This is how it makes me feel when you threaten to move from Provo because of the inversions:Ugh! That's not right. (damn that need to smile whenever a camera is pointed in my direction.)

THIS is how i feel about you moving!!

TEARS Momma, lots of tears. even if you can't see them in this pic they were THERE.

Love,
your very unmanipulative daughter who used to be able to cry on cue but is now out of practice and who is very happy that you decided you'll probably stay after all.

UPDATE: About that nasty air that we breathe in the winter...This is a link to UTAH MOMS FOR CLEAN AIR. (what is the deal with Ogden getting commuter rail before Provo?)

Back to regular programming OR what did the lovely Sophie wear yesterday...
O- the stripes! the layered patterns! the high quality fleece! O-the simple things in life that make one very very happy.

I keep feeling a compulsion to reveal EVERYTHING on my blog. If you only knew. For instance, let me tell you about a jar full of amber-colored ear wax (whispering aside: o- my preciousssss jar). Or why stop with me?? Let me tell you about OTHER people. like how one of my crazy bosses thinks all crimes are committed by coffee drinkers (suedonym can you guess who that is? and dare i not delete?) Or do you want to hear about my sister's habit of chewing gum found on sidewalks and garbage cans or my mom's midnight drives during which she hunts down and zooms through red lights?*

The condition called "Blogger's Regret" is not pretty. Especially not for the O'lover who has to live with the adverse effects of Blogger's Regret along with me. oh the nagging...

"Hey Ollllie?"
Yeah.
"Is it okay that I just told the whole world that I am a better driver than they are?"
Raquel, you are so cheeky.

along with the second guessing there's the cold sweats, the acid reflux, the flashbacks. and will any future employer who found this blog find me employable? what if they know about my hitchhiking? and all those times I got arrested? (shhhh...) and is it okay that i don't want to put things into context even though it might help you love me...or let me house sit?

what gives me comfort is that at least with O'lover it's a done deal.
signed, sealed, and delivered.
through thick and thin.
for richer or poorer.
whether over divulging or being circumspect...

phew.

but for the rest of you dear readers (whomever you might be) whom i want to woo... i propose stress free blogging. i like the sound of that already. no more Blogger's Regret.

And people. I am OWNING it. (no more putting up and taking down posts or bugging Oliver.)

And I am announcing my new play date...with a stranger named Discretion.

From here on out it's about art and growing food. and if i let certain facts slip now and then- like how i used to smoke q-tips...PLEASE-O-PLEASE forgive. relapses are bound to happen.

How about the rest of you? Ever wondered if you've told cyberspace too much? For the record I've never thought that YOU have.

signed,

itchin to delete the whole thang

Brooke tagged me. So here goes...

1. Link to the person that tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Share lots and lots of non-important things/ habits /quirks about yourself.
4. Tag at least 3 people at the end of your post and link to their blog.
5. Let each person know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6. Let the confessions begin.

1- Smiths Market put their “no bikes” sign on their door after I didn't bring a lock for my bike, had to take my bike inside, started daydreaming and before I knew it I was riding my bike down the aisles but snapped back to reality while i was catching some speed.

2- I used to have a big jar of earwax that I collected from candling peoples' ears. Ear wax and bodily fluids are so fascinating!

3- I once convinced a filthy rich plastic surgeon to take me up in his hot air balloon on his second time EVER of flying it and I kept begging him to go higher and higher until he said that we were so high it was illegal and by the time we got back down we missed the landing field by a long shot and crash landed repeatedly (we kept bouncing) in a mountain range and the hot air balloon basket was ripped to shreds and man - that guy was a bad pilot. And the next time he flew (with a new basket) he said it was an accident but i think he meant to land in the Cafe Rio parking lot.

4- I once rode a coal car to pocatello (but I was trying to get to portland). the train yard "bull" very politely kicked me off and asked that i wait until after his shift to get back on. The gritty coal whipped in my face and made it look like I had permanent eyeliner for days after.

5- I have favorite outside sleeping places around Provo and I always know when the sprinklers will turn on.

6- I'm the best driver I've ever met. but I hate driving. One of these days I will open my front door and walk to Mexico.

And now...

Suzy, Mirjam, and Paige...you're it. And Paige, please tell about the depends. please.

Our Yard

The soft fluffy snow has melted leaving behind a shelf of slushy ice and a lot of soggy muck. the kind of muck that swallows garden tools. and slurps at your wellies. But the crocuses and hyacinths are already showing their heads. The mule deer in our back yard are LOVING them.

Right now i'm daydreaming about drier days of full bloom in the garden and how we'll soon be able to get back out there!

These pix are from our first summer at the cottage.

First thing we did was lay out the square foot gardening plots with cement blocks that were going to be thrown away.
and put in the trellises
and made six foot tall tomato cages with space for compost in the middle to give off heat and extend the growing season.
We tried the three sisters growing method. Corn provides a framework for the beans and squash to grow on.
See how the zucchini i'm holding grew into an O? It stands for O'lover.O'lover studied a lot about plant guilds. Before then I hadn't realized the secret soap opera life of picky plants. There is high drama in gardening! Family feuds/ alliances the whole sordid shabang. We try to focus on peace and companionship in the garden and not grow cabbage or broccoli next to the strawberries.
It's fun to look at these early pix and think about how two summers later the plants were much more established. Another difference is we started using well rotted straw as mulch. last summer we converted much of our lawn (about three times as much space) into garden areas. But this year we also have a daily-more-enormous dog to contend with. And remember how we named him "farmer" because he likes to dig? Yikes.

How is your garden going to grow??

The grittypretty army stuff has been removed from the side bar.

I don't know if it will be for a short nap or a season's sleep...
but it's been a long time since i've felt compelled to make a doll.

So this is the last lullaby to a drowsy obsession. and really it's just a reminder to myself that once upon a time i would feel sick if i didn't make a doll body before breakfast.

**************
Sooo...

GrittyPretty refers to a homemade Army of Dolls

they normally reside in a trunk but the street art dollies have been deployed. Some have returned with mission accomplished. More to come...

It's nearly been a year since mailing off dolls to people all over Utah Valley in an effort to raise money for the food and care coalition's new facility.

Here are some of the dolls (there were a total of 145 ish at one point.)
This is the card that was sent out with them.
their pinafores said quotes from my journals such as "Everybody knows Victoria's secret"etc.

below is their exhibit statement. oh how tedious artist's statements can be. call it superstition but the academic world trains you that someone somewhere has the power to revoke your art degree if these statements are not taken seriously.

"Army of Me" The Propoganda Dolls

My mother is from Argentina. When I was little she collected dolls from different South American countries. She would put a safety pin on the back and hang them around my room. Some of my friends thought they were scary voodoo dolls but I preferred their handmade look and now love making my own dolls.

Those of you familiar with the myth surrounding Pandora's Box know that the contents of the box are unexpected. However, unlike the mythic box, the contents of the trunks for the exhibit will not flood the world with plagues. Instead the opening of the trunks has unleashed an Army of Dolls. The Army can be divided into three groups (starting from oldest to most recently made): the Rag Tag Grassroots Dolls, the Elite Force and the Cocoons. The Rag tag Grassroots Dolls are the individualistic dolls while the Elite Force have the longest gowns. The Cocoons are the dolls in metamorphosis. Some of them are fast asleep while others are awakening, suggesting their imminent reemergence as new creatures.

All of the statements on the dolls' pinafores are excerpts from my journals. As the specific context of the chosen statements has been eliminated, the comments are meant to be universal enough to editorialize on the human condition. The army is a collective metaphor of the aspect of myself that feels compelled to journal writing and object making. I call The Army "propaganda" as it propagates ideas and strives to reinforce viewpoints. Curiously enough, The Army and propaganda in general have comparable side effects; for while possessing a pedantic tone, the individual dolls also tend to contradict each other. The theatricality of the dolls points to an ironic discourse on both propaganda and the "will to power" (in so much as one recognizes that while propaganda may seem authoritative, it, or the "will to power" must ultimately not be taken too seriously). In some ways individual dolls signify shortsightedness while The Army represents the antidote in that it enables one to see that at present the propaganda of the self offers no real "final word"; The Army grows and shifts.

I made the dolls without initially knowing why but possible influences include: William Blake's fusion of text and image, a friends description of Friedrich Nietzche's The Will to Power, Bjork's song Army of Me, Jenny Holzer's Truisms and Inflammatory Essays, Magdalena Abakonowitz, the Statuettes at the Temple of Abu, Soldiers of the Imperial Bodyguard from the tomb of the Emperor Shi Huangdi, and most importantly, my mother.

Further Acknowledgments:

Abundant thanks goes to my mom and abuelita (my Argentine Grandmother). They taught me how to knit. In fact, quite a few of the Rag Tag Grassroots Dolls are a collaborative effort. I handed them many of the dolls for which they would design and knit an outfit. i thought it significant that they help me dress the bodies as they have dressed me both literally and metaphorically. I inherited many of the fabrics and laces used, symbolic of the inescapable impact of past generations. Also, thanks goes to Rachel Gray, Ben Huff, and Brandy Wilkins for generously donating their hair.

*****************
Go to sleep and good night to my dear grittypretty dollies!

Our pal Magnus is in town! Magnus, who usually lives in Norway. Magnus, the guy on the right sandwiched by beautiful girls. Magnus, who once walked across Iceland, and does back & front flips in your peripheral vision.
We had dinner at our house and then walked through the block to Kirsten's for desert.

Me and Laura-of-the-great-facial-structure that can showcase the best short haircuts like another vixen in the valley. Laura and I both thought O'lover's apple cobbler was transcendent.
O'lover channeled Nigella Lawson & Jamie Oliver (his most recent favorite foodies) and made us a great pot roast. I carved up one of our last pumpkins and made a Camille Kingsolver soup from that book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Kirsten baked a cake spiked with plum juice that she had harvested from her neighbor's tree.
YUM.
There was more good food to describe but i've gotta go check the fridge for something.

Remember how it is a stinkin' shame that O'lover quit making music at about the same time we got married?!!

Well, the living room has been REpurposed. It already contained the piano and two accordions.
but then...
we drug in three mics, the guitorgan (a guitar with organ circuitry), the amps, the drum kit, the chromaharp, the PA system, the bell lyre, marimbas, and bass.
now it's our band practice room.

Here Suz and Ollie are singing Sea of Love by Cat Powers.
accompanied by B-rad (normally on the piano) and Brandon with his bass.and now it's just me. without any musical talents. think i'll go play me some guitar hero next door...
JUST KIDDING OLIVER!!
those deseret industries drums look like they need a good beating...

but first, introducing the little rockers...

Thumbing through recent pix i'm struck with gratitude for all things COLORFUL.

Ollie was considering whether or not to organize our books by color or topic. I'm glad he chose the rainbow. I think my lunch looks like a bowl full of cabbage fireworks. savory...
Ashley is full to the brim with wit and her brilliance overfloweth. she is the granddaughter of one of my favorites. Neal A. Maxwell. Ashley's hair color changes a lot. You can read her thoughts and see a different hair color here.
Sus KB lent me a stack of Art News. Because art school friends don't let art school friends lapse into arter darkness. signed,
where is my copy of Stitch 'n'Bitch? What color is the cover? crap.

last night stephen goldsmith had dinner at our house.
he's the guy at the far end of the table.
stephen is the rockstar of new urbanism.
when his friend rocky anderson became the mayor of slc he asked stephen goldsmith to be the city planning director.
stephen is an artist and the founder of artspace in slc.

got it? 'cause you'll be quizzed later.

AJ's delectable pie. imagine the words "oh yeahhhhhhh" but in otis redding's deep voice.

afterwards stephen spoke at gallery oneten.
he held our attention.
sophie's ensemble held my attention too.
so many budding city planners.

signed,
man, that pie was good.

it turns out i'm

a respecter of persons
AND,
even worse,
a stalker.

this is right before michelle obama shakes my hand.

after her inspiring speech in slc last monday.

her hand is very soft and thin.
my hand was clammy and in awe.
while in chicago last november i visited THEIR house. on their street there's an LDS chapel, then my friend kimmy's house, then a couple houses, then my favorite presidential candidate's house, then a jewish synagogue.

signed,
yes there were secret service agents watching me take this pic.

p.s. i'm a bit paranoid about THEIR safety and putting this image online but newsweek magazine beat me to it. they had an article with the pix of all the candidates luxurious "estates". this candidate is the only one with a "house". the article was trying to make a point.

lately i've been living way too much in my hard head and not enough in my soft mushy heart.

blame it on the art grants i'm writing for for work. i just wrote "for for". crud. what next? run-on sentences?
-please- for the love of laughing (and a return to having more than one thing -and one thing only- on my mind) please dear NEA grant awarders please make downtown provo your awardee. may there be soulful art on every public corner.
in the name of hesoos...amen.

one recent happening that put my head in the back seat was liz's dance concert at coleman studios. remember liz? as in happy liz and reo who parked their gypsy caravan in our back yard until this past month (they bought a beautiful house in the timpanogos neighborhood!!).

liz is a dance choreographer. like none other. kinda like how she's a naturalist/gardener/food preserver/dula. like none other. her rows of glass jars all lined-up and full of curried and fermented everything...well, they are prettiness in a pantry. like none other.

but her dancers. with their shamanic exotic moves. with their black eyes and wild hair...i went home feeling all tranced out and oh so soft and loving.

and for that. i am very thankful.

here's a glimpse of february's downtown provo gallery stroll...

we hit nine of the ten art venues last night. quite remarkable for me and my lounging, lingering self.

mr. ryan neely and his very fitting yoko and john shirt. byron and his fine paintings at coal umbrella.
ashley mae at metropolitan. sophie and i both bid on her beautiful art work for the silent auction. i hope we win!
ollie took this pic of sophie and me. we did the entire stroll *on foot* as the good god intended. with our canines hobo and farmer. i'd like to believe they are slightly more cultured because of it.

i hope to see you and your dawgs next first friday!