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Signs of Life
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
“New beginnings.” Isn’t that redundant? Because of the new moon over the weekend, someone kept talking about “new beginnings,” and it was bugging me. Beginnings by their nature are always new, aren’t they? “Old” beginnings would be “in progress,” wouldn’t they? I suddenly sound like Andy Rooney. Anyway, spring is arriving on the coast, and this moon in particular is about starting over.
This is good for me. I’m sort of settled in my new space—as settled as one might be, knowing it’s only for a few weeks—and I am thankful for the “hermitage” here. Even during the past two whirlwind weeks, I feel a change within. The frenzy is over; my senses are returning. I am able to be more contemplative, creative and open to what the Universe is presenting. I am out of the raging river current and returning to the Flow, preparing to go where it takes me.
Much activity has happened in this quiet little room. These past few days I have been thinking about the web. Not really the internet, though that plays into almost everything nowadays. I’m thinking about the web of our interconnected lives.
My last entry alluded to my disappointment with little feeling of connection here, even after six years. Others now have echoed their own feelings of “shallow roots” and the un-reality of this coast culture. Then, a friend from Rochester emailed just the right thing at the right time, as usual. There is still that thread (and a few others) connecting me there. Family ties are pulling me toward the Midwest. The realization that I still FEEL connections is actually reassuring.
Sadly, there have been four deaths affecting friends in these past two weeks, also. Two of these families know each other, but only one of them is in Cannon Beach. The third is here, but doesn’t know the others. The fourth was a death of a dear family friend (my own family.) I’ve thought about my life intertwining with these people and their families and friends, at different times, in different ways. This is how the web is formed, threads stretching—and sometimes breaking—between each other. And, as the new moon waxes toward the full, my friends, also, will be rebuilding and re-starting after illness, tragedy and loss.
But I see small lambs in the pasture near Warrenton. Little plants push themselves through, seeking light, and so do we. Last year was a Lesson; this year is wide open. There are some signs of life after all.
A New View
Monday, February 8, 2010
I have moved. I'm still in CB for the moment, but many people are encouraging me to "get while the getting's good." Events and experiences of the past two years have taken their tolls, and I am spent. What do I always say? "It's only temporary." "The only constant is change." Yadda, yadda.
In previous tough times I've been able to latch onto something---job opportunities, my little house, some savings. This is different, for there are none of those things now. I'm in this bewildered state most of the time when I'm not panicking or taking deep breaths. So many things are pulling at me simultaneously.
The weather is perfect here--we have daffodils out already--and the ocean is a force like nothing I can describe. Beyond Mother Nature, however, I've found little depth and substance here after six years. Maybe that is what has finally sapped my energy, gone with the tourists. Friends are struggling; businesses are struggling; everyone is grasping for something to keep them above water.
Back east, my parents are aging, and it's my turn to step up and help them. There are also paying jobs in the east, believe it or not. Columbus and Pittsburgh are under more than two feet of snow right now. Aye, there's the rub.
I know that I'm smarter than my decisions in 2008-09 make me appear. And yet, here I am, shaking my head, reeling, and, yes, bewildered, Starting over this year was not in the plan. It is now. As are releasing, reworking and repacking. I have to be very careful now to hone in on what I feel is right for me, rather than what others--albeit with good intentions--think is best.
So, the view here is different at the end of my new street.
I have moved. I'm still in CB for the moment, but many people are encouraging me to "get while the getting's good." Events and experiences of the past two years have taken their tolls, and I am spent. What do I always say? "It's only temporary." "The only constant is change." Yadda, yadda.
In previous tough times I've been able to latch onto something---job opportunities, my little house, some savings. This is different, for there are none of those things now. I'm in this bewildered state most of the time when I'm not panicking or taking deep breaths. So many things are pulling at me simultaneously.
The weather is perfect here--we have daffodils out already--and the ocean is a force like nothing I can describe. Beyond Mother Nature, however, I've found little depth and substance here after six years. Maybe that is what has finally sapped my energy, gone with the tourists. Friends are struggling; businesses are struggling; everyone is grasping for something to keep them above water.
Back east, my parents are aging, and it's my turn to step up and help them. There are also paying jobs in the east, believe it or not. Columbus and Pittsburgh are under more than two feet of snow right now. Aye, there's the rub.
I know that I'm smarter than my decisions in 2008-09 make me appear. And yet, here I am, shaking my head, reeling, and, yes, bewildered, Starting over this year was not in the plan. It is now. As are releasing, reworking and repacking. I have to be very careful now to hone in on what I feel is right for me, rather than what others--albeit with good intentions--think is best.
So, the view here is different at the end of my new street.
Here We Go Again
Monday, January 18, 2010
One year ending, another year beginning. January---and another birthday (when this photo was taken--sigh) I hear the high surf now while we await the next storm arriving tonight. This is about reflection as I move out of my apartment of five + years, purging several years of files and books and magazines and linens and clothes and assorted other doo-dads.
Now is an appropriate time to push myself into "monk mode." The planets are promising for 2010--Pluto secure in Capricorn, Mars out of retrograde in March and, I believe, Jupiter is entering Pisces. My new (temporary) apartment is about one-quarter to one-third of my present space, so there is no room for three sets of sheets (or my bed, for that matter.) Selling furniture, donating art supplies and consolidating file boxes is all part of the process of wheedling down, simplifiying and releasing the "old ways." I'm finding myself both ruthless and gentle as I touch everything. What memory is attached to this? How many pens does one really need? These cards from Christmases past can go, but this one from my grandfather stays. Let go of Cassy's doggie toys and bed, but keep her collar and tags.
Friend Jodi said in her practical way, "Just pick out the things that mean the most, and take whatever will fit in your truck." Yes, I know that's the best, most freeing way to do this. The reality is that I have boxes of photo files, books and things that I actually use--unfortunately, probably more than will fit in the back of my SUV.
I've tried playing mind games: "I'm going on an extended camping trip. What do I need to take?" Then I think, "If I'm on a camping trip, I would still come home to my books." Hmmm. I am still attached, but this is good practice. In the coming weeks, after my apartment move, I'll continue to pare down even more. Not knowing where I'll be this time next year is both scary and exciting, but I haven't been able to really find comfort here yet. Seems like I'm always searching. In cutting away the brush, I'm hoping to reveal the path.
One year ending, another year beginning. January---and another birthday (when this photo was taken--sigh) I hear the high surf now while we await the next storm arriving tonight. This is about reflection as I move out of my apartment of five + years, purging several years of files and books and magazines and linens and clothes and assorted other doo-dads.
Now is an appropriate time to push myself into "monk mode." The planets are promising for 2010--Pluto secure in Capricorn, Mars out of retrograde in March and, I believe, Jupiter is entering Pisces. My new (temporary) apartment is about one-quarter to one-third of my present space, so there is no room for three sets of sheets (or my bed, for that matter.) Selling furniture, donating art supplies and consolidating file boxes is all part of the process of wheedling down, simplifiying and releasing the "old ways." I'm finding myself both ruthless and gentle as I touch everything. What memory is attached to this? How many pens does one really need? These cards from Christmases past can go, but this one from my grandfather stays. Let go of Cassy's doggie toys and bed, but keep her collar and tags.
Friend Jodi said in her practical way, "Just pick out the things that mean the most, and take whatever will fit in your truck." Yes, I know that's the best, most freeing way to do this. The reality is that I have boxes of photo files, books and things that I actually use--unfortunately, probably more than will fit in the back of my SUV.
I've tried playing mind games: "I'm going on an extended camping trip. What do I need to take?" Then I think, "If I'm on a camping trip, I would still come home to my books." Hmmm. I am still attached, but this is good practice. In the coming weeks, after my apartment move, I'll continue to pare down even more. Not knowing where I'll be this time next year is both scary and exciting, but I haven't been able to really find comfort here yet. Seems like I'm always searching. In cutting away the brush, I'm hoping to reveal the path.
Winter
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Ah, winter. Much of life is interior now. Darkness arrives, and the few people who do live here tuck themselves in. Weather-wise we've been fortunate on the coast--only one week of stormy weather so far, and that in November. Otherwise there are lamentations. And not just the usual complaints about business being slow and there being fewer visitors (heads in beds at hotels, ) but about this being the worst economic winter in decades and the stories of no reservations/check-ins for days and restaurants serving only one table an evening. A winter of discontent.
I've opened Wild Vines, and the going has been slower than I could have imagined--not that I didn't realize November is a bad time to start off. But here I am, in the most dismal winter on record with a new endeavor along with a series of other results and decisions facing me, that this difficult year has precipitated. I go within.
Two-thousand nine is now yet another Lesson in listening to my inner voice instead of others' voices--as well-meaning as many may be. I have gotten away from myself and had the sensation a few weeks ago of being carried down a rushing river current toward a waterfall, not being able to grab onto a branch, even for a few seconds. Time is passing, and I am well past the point of catching up when spinning about like a pinball creates a detour or setback on My Path. Pluto is now in Capricorn bringing transformation of some degree to everyone. Retrogrades here, eclipses coming---time for slowing down, reflection, solitude, thorough consideration. I need to process pain, find the inner compass, get a feel for the next direction of this journey. In fact, my dream last night---not disturbing or a nightmare for a change---was about looking at who I am, remembering who I am inside and "following my signs."
Last week I had to go to Portland, and of course it was the day after it snowed. Friend Nadine and I started half an hour later to allow the temps to rise in the hills. The sun was cutting through the very mist it was creating. When I got out of the car, the air was quiet, smelling of cold evergreens. I wanted to trudge into the woods, into the blanket of a silent forest and disappear in solitude.
Ah, winter. Much of life is interior now. Darkness arrives, and the few people who do live here tuck themselves in. Weather-wise we've been fortunate on the coast--only one week of stormy weather so far, and that in November. Otherwise there are lamentations. And not just the usual complaints about business being slow and there being fewer visitors (heads in beds at hotels, ) but about this being the worst economic winter in decades and the stories of no reservations/check-ins for days and restaurants serving only one table an evening. A winter of discontent.
I've opened Wild Vines, and the going has been slower than I could have imagined--not that I didn't realize November is a bad time to start off. But here I am, in the most dismal winter on record with a new endeavor along with a series of other results and decisions facing me, that this difficult year has precipitated. I go within.
Two-thousand nine is now yet another Lesson in listening to my inner voice instead of others' voices--as well-meaning as many may be. I have gotten away from myself and had the sensation a few weeks ago of being carried down a rushing river current toward a waterfall, not being able to grab onto a branch, even for a few seconds. Time is passing, and I am well past the point of catching up when spinning about like a pinball creates a detour or setback on My Path. Pluto is now in Capricorn bringing transformation of some degree to everyone. Retrogrades here, eclipses coming---time for slowing down, reflection, solitude, thorough consideration. I need to process pain, find the inner compass, get a feel for the next direction of this journey. In fact, my dream last night---not disturbing or a nightmare for a change---was about looking at who I am, remembering who I am inside and "following my signs."
Last week I had to go to Portland, and of course it was the day after it snowed. Friend Nadine and I started half an hour later to allow the temps to rise in the hills. The sun was cutting through the very mist it was creating. When I got out of the car, the air was quiet, smelling of cold evergreens. I wanted to trudge into the woods, into the blanket of a silent forest and disappear in solitude.
Storms and Weather
Friday, November 6, 2009
It really is Friday. I am supposed to open the wine bar, Wild Vines, in about 13 hours. I have been working since 8 am and am tired. Each part of my body has a painful story to tell: cuts from measuring tapes, a headache from the storm system barrelling at the coast, a backache from opening a 12 foot sliding door yesterday, a wicked knot in my neck that I don't want to think about. I've been sitting in glass and sawdust. I've been stapling fabric and staining table legs and trim. I haven't eaten since 10:30 Thursday morning.
This is the Big One, what I've been looking forward to, and yet I'm sitting here surrounded by twinkle lights and aching and worrying and knowing that there is so much more to do. I don't feel ready. The space just became available on Sunday, so I've worked non-stop all week to try to make it presentable. It is the space next to Sweet Basil's Cafe, which is a good thing. On the other hand, everything that could possibly go wrong or awry has done so for several weeks. I can only liken it to climbing uphill backwards, against the wind, through the snow with your shoes on the wrong feet. And yet I press on.
This is Stormy Weather weekend, one of two huge arts fests for Cannon Beach. I haven't done a show at all. The Chamber of Commerce asked me to submit a photo for their silent auction tonight, which I did and which I appreciate. Winds have been gusting over 60 mph today with rain and lightning and thunder--completely appropriate. My internal storms are just as forceful right now.
Aside from all of the trauma of getting this business together, my mother is not well, and it is certainly upsetting my father. I can't get back there to help them. My friends are losing hours or jobs. I haven't had nearly enough work to keep going, either. My dreams offer little rest with their tsunamis and guns and injured dogs and revisiting past experiences and boyfriends. Maybe it's just an over-active mind or the aches and pains or the Benedryl to knock me out. Maybe I'll feel better in a few weeks.
Meanwhile, I need to get home and take a shower. I have to drive to Portland and back in the morning. If you are in CB this weekend (or beyond,) please stop in to say hello and have a glass of really great Pinot.
(Sorry--no photo tonight. I have dozens in my camera that I haven't downloaded. Sheesh.)
It really is Friday. I am supposed to open the wine bar, Wild Vines, in about 13 hours. I have been working since 8 am and am tired. Each part of my body has a painful story to tell: cuts from measuring tapes, a headache from the storm system barrelling at the coast, a backache from opening a 12 foot sliding door yesterday, a wicked knot in my neck that I don't want to think about. I've been sitting in glass and sawdust. I've been stapling fabric and staining table legs and trim. I haven't eaten since 10:30 Thursday morning.
This is the Big One, what I've been looking forward to, and yet I'm sitting here surrounded by twinkle lights and aching and worrying and knowing that there is so much more to do. I don't feel ready. The space just became available on Sunday, so I've worked non-stop all week to try to make it presentable. It is the space next to Sweet Basil's Cafe, which is a good thing. On the other hand, everything that could possibly go wrong or awry has done so for several weeks. I can only liken it to climbing uphill backwards, against the wind, through the snow with your shoes on the wrong feet. And yet I press on.
This is Stormy Weather weekend, one of two huge arts fests for Cannon Beach. I haven't done a show at all. The Chamber of Commerce asked me to submit a photo for their silent auction tonight, which I did and which I appreciate. Winds have been gusting over 60 mph today with rain and lightning and thunder--completely appropriate. My internal storms are just as forceful right now.
Aside from all of the trauma of getting this business together, my mother is not well, and it is certainly upsetting my father. I can't get back there to help them. My friends are losing hours or jobs. I haven't had nearly enough work to keep going, either. My dreams offer little rest with their tsunamis and guns and injured dogs and revisiting past experiences and boyfriends. Maybe it's just an over-active mind or the aches and pains or the Benedryl to knock me out. Maybe I'll feel better in a few weeks.
Meanwhile, I need to get home and take a shower. I have to drive to Portland and back in the morning. If you are in CB this weekend (or beyond,) please stop in to say hello and have a glass of really great Pinot.
(Sorry--no photo tonight. I have dozens in my camera that I haven't downloaded. Sheesh.)
Digital 101 Class
Thought I would post this while I was thinking about it.
I'm teaching my Digital Photo 101 class next Saturday, October 17th at the Tolovana Hall on South Hemlock (next to the Children's Center.)
It's a two-hour workshop that begins with camera basics and moves on to help students get to know their digital cameras and take better photos. I've gotten very good reviews from students in the past. This is not a "tech-y" class, but there is a lot of hands-on instruction and as much one-on-one attention as possible.
The workshop will begin at 11:00 am, end around 1:00 pm and is $35.00 per person. It's sponsored by the Tolovana Arts Colony. Students should bring their cameras and instruction books, if possible. If you or someone you know is interested in attending, contact me to register via this site's "Comments."
Thanks much! GAV
I'm teaching my Digital Photo 101 class next Saturday, October 17th at the Tolovana Hall on South Hemlock (next to the Children's Center.)
It's a two-hour workshop that begins with camera basics and moves on to help students get to know their digital cameras and take better photos. I've gotten very good reviews from students in the past. This is not a "tech-y" class, but there is a lot of hands-on instruction and as much one-on-one attention as possible.
The workshop will begin at 11:00 am, end around 1:00 pm and is $35.00 per person. It's sponsored by the Tolovana Arts Colony. Students should bring their cameras and instruction books, if possible. If you or someone you know is interested in attending, contact me to register via this site's "Comments."
Thanks much! GAV
Fall-ing
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Do you believe it? The crisp, cool days of fall are here. I am still on the go--photo shoots and pet sitting. I was gone last weekend, Thursday, and I am now pet sitting until Wednesday.
In the meantime, it looks like the wine bar will be open in a month, ready or not. More details to come---there are some good things and not-as-good things, as there are with all ventures. I have A LOT of work to do. For instance, friends and I will have breakfast tomorrow morning and then pick up the main part of the bar-to-be in their truck. I'll add legs and refinish it. I'm in the current now and will be going over the falls soon.
At least all of this traveling around has allowed me to see some of the seasonal changes, if not to photograph them. Since much of the foliage on the coast is evergreen, there isn't terribly much color as in New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania. But there are some colors in the hills and pumpkins and squash at the farm stands. There has been little rain here, so the skies have been deep blue and the morning and late day light golden.
Autumn seems like such a short season--one month, really. Summer extends into September, and I've seen snow fly by Halloween. I have such fond memories of this season with its fresh air and sweaters and comfort food and, of course, the first of the Charlie Brown trilogy, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Today, in this pooch's (Zeke's) backyard, cones and moss and peanut shells (?!) are falling from the tall, tall evergreens--signs of a gentler season before downed twigs, branches and power lines announce the arrival of winter.
Do you believe it? The crisp, cool days of fall are here. I am still on the go--photo shoots and pet sitting. I was gone last weekend, Thursday, and I am now pet sitting until Wednesday.
In the meantime, it looks like the wine bar will be open in a month, ready or not. More details to come---there are some good things and not-as-good things, as there are with all ventures. I have A LOT of work to do. For instance, friends and I will have breakfast tomorrow morning and then pick up the main part of the bar-to-be in their truck. I'll add legs and refinish it. I'm in the current now and will be going over the falls soon.
At least all of this traveling around has allowed me to see some of the seasonal changes, if not to photograph them. Since much of the foliage on the coast is evergreen, there isn't terribly much color as in New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania. But there are some colors in the hills and pumpkins and squash at the farm stands. There has been little rain here, so the skies have been deep blue and the morning and late day light golden.
Autumn seems like such a short season--one month, really. Summer extends into September, and I've seen snow fly by Halloween. I have such fond memories of this season with its fresh air and sweaters and comfort food and, of course, the first of the Charlie Brown trilogy, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Today, in this pooch's (Zeke's) backyard, cones and moss and peanut shells (?!) are falling from the tall, tall evergreens--signs of a gentler season before downed twigs, branches and power lines announce the arrival of winter.
Have Coffee, Will Travel
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
This photo, taken in Lincoln City---another Oregon beach town---last week, has been the most peaceful moment I've had in awhile. Granted, when I was pet sitting at Tom and Marga's I did zone out on my first Sunday. When was that again?
Amid putting the wine bar together (opening soon,) working at the restaurant, shooting for the Fall/Winter issue of the magazine, pet sitting, and various committees, I've spent about six nights in my own bed over the past 3 1/2 weeks. This ocean front balcony took me away for a few moments as if I were actually on vacation. I may make this my screensaver or wallpaper to remind me to breathe.
I should post a photo of a coffee mug, instead, to energize me! I'm afraid the 3:00 Tab is no longer enough to get me through this schedule. Coffee in the morning has become a necessary evil as my foggy little peepers try to focus, and my groggy little grey cells distinguish the daily To Do lists and locations from the fragments of dreams gone wild. I've now re-started the yoga three days/week to make the morning transition easier. Oh well.
All the pets have "helped" me start my days a bit earlier, which is actually a good thing (notice I'm not posting this at midnight.) And, truly, I'm happy and grateful to have work and be so busy in the face of the dismal headlines. But, I guess once in awhile, it is good to stop, pet the pooches (or kitty,) take in some sunshine and fresh air, and let the waves drown out the chatter, the lists, the buzz of the coffee.
This photo, taken in Lincoln City---another Oregon beach town---last week, has been the most peaceful moment I've had in awhile. Granted, when I was pet sitting at Tom and Marga's I did zone out on my first Sunday. When was that again?
Amid putting the wine bar together (opening soon,) working at the restaurant, shooting for the Fall/Winter issue of the magazine, pet sitting, and various committees, I've spent about six nights in my own bed over the past 3 1/2 weeks. This ocean front balcony took me away for a few moments as if I were actually on vacation. I may make this my screensaver or wallpaper to remind me to breathe.
I should post a photo of a coffee mug, instead, to energize me! I'm afraid the 3:00 Tab is no longer enough to get me through this schedule. Coffee in the morning has become a necessary evil as my foggy little peepers try to focus, and my groggy little grey cells distinguish the daily To Do lists and locations from the fragments of dreams gone wild. I've now re-started the yoga three days/week to make the morning transition easier. Oh well.
All the pets have "helped" me start my days a bit earlier, which is actually a good thing (notice I'm not posting this at midnight.) And, truly, I'm happy and grateful to have work and be so busy in the face of the dismal headlines. But, I guess once in awhile, it is good to stop, pet the pooches (or kitty,) take in some sunshine and fresh air, and let the waves drown out the chatter, the lists, the buzz of the coffee.
Relax, Rewind
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
I am at Tom and Marga's, pet and house sitting for a couple of weeks. I needed to get away from my noisy house, from Cannon Beach, from the frustration and mind clutter and that has taken its toll this year. If you check this site often enough, you've seen snippets of T & M's cool house up above Astoria's Uniontown overlooking the Columbia River.
The first day Kitty-poo and I got reacquainted and settled in. The next day I vegged. REALLY vegged. As in reading the newspaper, doing the word search puzzle, finishing a book and napping all with movies playing in the background. In between these activities, I stared out the windows at passing tides, clouds and sail boats. I need this different perspective right now.
Stress makes me forget some things and long for others. It muddles my mind as I try to see the big picture and find the pieces. It makes me forget why I came here as I struggle with seemingly daily fires and delays. Stress makes me long for my little house in Rochester with its garden and hardwoods and a living room where I could do yoga without moving furniture.
It's good that I'm up here this week, taking care of the Princess and cleaning my slate. I have to re-set some priorities, re-vamp some plans, re-visit some healthier habits, recharge some good energy. So many pieces to put together.
I am at Tom and Marga's, pet and house sitting for a couple of weeks. I needed to get away from my noisy house, from Cannon Beach, from the frustration and mind clutter and that has taken its toll this year. If you check this site often enough, you've seen snippets of T & M's cool house up above Astoria's Uniontown overlooking the Columbia River.
The first day Kitty-poo and I got reacquainted and settled in. The next day I vegged. REALLY vegged. As in reading the newspaper, doing the word search puzzle, finishing a book and napping all with movies playing in the background. In between these activities, I stared out the windows at passing tides, clouds and sail boats. I need this different perspective right now.
Stress makes me forget some things and long for others. It muddles my mind as I try to see the big picture and find the pieces. It makes me forget why I came here as I struggle with seemingly daily fires and delays. Stress makes me long for my little house in Rochester with its garden and hardwoods and a living room where I could do yoga without moving furniture.
It's good that I'm up here this week, taking care of the Princess and cleaning my slate. I have to re-set some priorities, re-vamp some plans, re-visit some healthier habits, recharge some good energy. So many pieces to put together.
Silver Linings
Friday, August 14, 2009
This is tonight's sunset. I really liked the blue sky peeking through and the sun backlighting the whole works. It wasn't colorful, but there seemed to be a lot going on. Ah, the metaphor.
Life right now is a mixed bag and Forrest Gump's box of chocolates. Tuesday is Wild Vines' first official event: a wine tasting at Sweet Basil's Cafe using products from the CB Farmers Market. I did two of these last year at Spirited which were really fun. I hope this goes well. A few months ago I mentioned (here) that a friend was going to begin chemo treatements. She recently passed away, and tomorrow is her memorial celebration. I've had a "roomie" this week, the 16 year old daughter of friends with a condo around the corner. She's adorable, and we've coexisted well. Three of us went out to Tora Sushi the other night in the pouring rain. We're beginning on the Fall/Winter issue of the magazine. My mother is ill again. I've bought the glassware, plates, fabric, folding tables and candle holders to set the stage for the wine bar atmosphere.
Sorting through all of this and more simultaneously, hmm. Take in all of it, but focus on moving forward and being positive. No wonder I'm not sleeping well and am forgetting to eat. After this coming week, I'll be able to step aside and look at all of this and move to the next steps. I'll be pet/house sitting at friends', Tom and Marga's, in Astoria; a change of scene will be a good thing. I'll try to photograph Kitty-poo, most likely scowling at me.
In reading this over, I realize it looks and sounds a bit fragmented and stream of consciousness. Short bursts of info and activities, mists and bright spots whirling around me. Stay focussed, and look for the silver linings.
This is tonight's sunset. I really liked the blue sky peeking through and the sun backlighting the whole works. It wasn't colorful, but there seemed to be a lot going on. Ah, the metaphor.
Life right now is a mixed bag and Forrest Gump's box of chocolates. Tuesday is Wild Vines' first official event: a wine tasting at Sweet Basil's Cafe using products from the CB Farmers Market. I did two of these last year at Spirited which were really fun. I hope this goes well. A few months ago I mentioned (here) that a friend was going to begin chemo treatements. She recently passed away, and tomorrow is her memorial celebration. I've had a "roomie" this week, the 16 year old daughter of friends with a condo around the corner. She's adorable, and we've coexisted well. Three of us went out to Tora Sushi the other night in the pouring rain. We're beginning on the Fall/Winter issue of the magazine. My mother is ill again. I've bought the glassware, plates, fabric, folding tables and candle holders to set the stage for the wine bar atmosphere.
Sorting through all of this and more simultaneously, hmm. Take in all of it, but focus on moving forward and being positive. No wonder I'm not sleeping well and am forgetting to eat. After this coming week, I'll be able to step aside and look at all of this and move to the next steps. I'll be pet/house sitting at friends', Tom and Marga's, in Astoria; a change of scene will be a good thing. I'll try to photograph Kitty-poo, most likely scowling at me.
In reading this over, I realize it looks and sounds a bit fragmented and stream of consciousness. Short bursts of info and activities, mists and bright spots whirling around me. Stay focussed, and look for the silver linings.