fuckity fuck fuck

Sometimes...there are days when, on the one hand, you have lunch with a fine and spiritual and deeply valuable friend who ordains and validates the work you do and the person that you are. You confide in this person, and you are not disappointed. You confess your doubts, insecurities and stupid hang-ups. You are reminded of your skills, your talents, your value.

And on the other hand, you act like a fool around someone unattainable, you argue with your husband and you stay up way too late trying to get drunk -- though not really succeeding. You struggle with your place in life, with unrequited love and with professional development. You anguish. You overwork yourself.

you feel deeply stupid.

... or perhaps just a tad sooner.

I love autumn, because I look best in fall fashions, fall colors, long coats and funny hats. And BOOTS. I am coveting a pair of yellow Fluevogs at the moment (blame WendyB for this, she posted a link to their website and I went surfing down yonder for the first time, now I'm panting over several pair...) My concerns about these: one, the brown heel (I'd prefer black); two, the buckles (what color are they? Silver I hope...) Never mind the price. And three, what would I wear with them?

Last week, I threw caution to the wind and wore my black 3-inch heel patent-leather Aerosoles (the ones my kid picked out) to work. With my Astounding Stockings (no photo, sorry), the nude-colored ones with the criss-cross black "laces" up the front and back, stockings that always generate compliments from older men (even pastors attending clergy luncheons!) And a short skirt. Yes, I took my legs to work with me, and was not disappointed by the feedback (including some good-natured ribbing from young Mike the security contractor, who scorned my impractical shoes in a clearly admiring sort of way.) I had to finish the day in flats though -- my poor feet gave out around 2pm.

The POINT here, however, is that the Astounding Stockings would not look so good with these boots -- in fact, none of my best stockings would. What sort of hosiery (etc) should be worn with yellow leather and brown heels? I don't want to be stuck wearing jeans as the only option here... any ideas? Are these boots made for slacks only? I won't buy them if they necessitate a major wardrobe adjustment.

the flurry of creation and the wind

I had an artistic deadline last week (see True Companion for the image) and now I have another show for which to finish another piece (for a total of two there on display)... and the wind is wild tonight... I will be back, when my mission is completed...

what the f*ck was i thinking?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3M-bH3YGsTo&ob=av2n

Jen's song of the day.

a fall day

There are so many leaves already down and blown about that today's very warm weather seems just the slightest bit eerie. There is a stillness - I could wax on about a final intake of summer breath before winter really settles in (five months of it) - but maybe the stillness isn't so much an evident calm as an absent sound. By this I mean that in such warm weather, we're listening for summer -- for the rustling of green leaves overhead, for certain bugs and birds and the constant underlying susurrus of abundant life. Now, many of the trees are already bare or nearly so. Robins are massing for migration and many birds have started moving south. The tomatoes are ripening -- hooray! -- but the gardens are mostly spent for the season. And it's a Saturday, so my bike ride home from the office mid-day was not marked by traffic's noise or smell, so much. I coasted down long hills and allowed myself to look up to the brilliant blue sky as I went, watching the yellow-brown and orange of turned leaves on black branches slipping by above me. So, the eighty or more degrees we felt under the sun today seemed lovely, yet eerie -- like a summer gone wrong, somehow, instead of autumnal reprieve.

It was a productive day, certainly, and appealing in its particulars. Meeting with young people at church about a creative project; face-painting at the neighborhood farmer's market fall festival; laundry, and sewing at home, capped by a really scrumptious family meal of crab legs, garlic bread and coleslaw. Delicious. It's possible I'll have photos later from the face-painting session (something I do for free at occasional community events.)

In the back of my mind there's a song by Jenny Owen Youngs just rattling around -- make it a fast car...make it a clean break... the notes a series of sharps and flats, against a hectic backdrop. Underlying angst that. Yesterday was an equally beautiful but much less positive sort of day, and today's inner stillness had more to do with feeling emotionally spent and raw versus any sort of peace. So my descriptions of strange weather are a projection too.

I'm thinking of my son, who visited me with his dad at the farmer's market and had me paint him -- a tornado in the center of his forehead, by request; a hurricane on the back of one hand and a thundercloud with lightning on the back of the other. He chased the other boys, who were painted up as wizards and accident victims and pirates, threatening to strike them with his lightning and blow them away with hurricane winds. My son's instinct for the dangers of the natural world outweighing the more traditional Halloween personas...

things not to do when I'm drinking

thinking about work
texting. anyone.
(especially while riding my bicycle home) 
talking to my husband about money.
paying insufficient attention to our gay waiter.
emailing. anyone.
more drinking.
dropping a can of mineral water and then opening it right away. oops.
talking to my husband about work.
forgetting how early I need to be up the next morning.