gone fishin'

Just a quick note to say I'm shutting off the computer for a few days. It's acting up, and I'm feeling tired, so it's a good time for both of us to take a break. Can't remember the last day off I had, and a vacation is nowhere in sight. So Rick and I will be spending some time by the river with the dogs, and entertaining friends from Switzerland over the weekend. I'll be back Monday or Tuesday.

Carry on!
xoxo Kim

updates

First up, (right wing folks better cover your eyes for a sec), the Obama Beads are ready to go! Find them in my BeadShop, under the category Beads For A Better World. Soon there will also be beads there to benefit the HOPE Bracelet Project. And thanks for askin', but I'm not really in need of any suggestions for other worthy causes. Want to raise money for something? I think you should!
~~~

Rick's back is doing better. He still sees the D.O.M. three times a week for acupuncture. It's helping, but there's still a long way to go. At least he's more able to move and walk and even water some plants. He says he's making dinner tonight... I don't know about that. But it sure would be nice to have some of my workload lifted. One of these days it'll all get easier...
~~~

Heidi is settled in and has become a regular family member. We love her unreasonably. She and Lucy are friends, and have even worked out a fair way to dog-wrestle. Heidi jumps up on the couch, putting them a equal heights. It's hilarious to watch. And the homemade dog treats are a hit. They will both come running now when we call them, and can "sit" in unison. Anything for a cheesy treat. I left the garlic powder out of the second batch, even though I think the amount is too small to worry about. I added a little peanut butter, and they seem to be very happy doggies. Want the recipe? It's in this post.


I'm knitting dog sweaters too. She doesn't need them now, but she will in the winter. This one actually went to Seattle, for my son's dog. I thought he might need it for the 4th of July, when it's often cold and rainy there.
~~~

The Vegan Thing. You thought it wouldn't last, huh? Well, I have to give this dietary migration a big thumbs up. We're eating better, tastier, more beautiful food than ever, and we had a better than average diet before. Rick still wants a turkey sandwich now and then. But for the most part we've cut out anything to do with animals. This is bizarre for me. Cheese used to be a huge part of my life... and my thighs. We've had Rick's good homemade pizza twice in the last however-long it's been, with just a sprinkle of cheese, and I don't feel the teensiest bit deprived. I feel clearer and lighter, and even though I haven't kept a scale in the house in years (I think they're evil), I know I'm losing weight. This all suits me just fine. I'm stickin' with it. I know it's not for everybody. But if you're thinking about it, there's lots of good info and plenty of recipes and cookbooks to get you started. Who wouldn't like a little Cashew Paella on a summer evening? Hmmm?
~~~

And the house... oy... We feel like hostages, but at least we're hostages in Taos, and in a lovely house. It sure could be worse, and I know there are "reasons" why we're being detained. One of these days - maybe today - the right person will wander by and say, Hey! That's just what I want! And we'll be on our way so fast we won't know where to start. We were in go mode for a long time, and now we've settled into more of a summertime and the livin' is easy sort of thing. I'm starting to wonder of we'll flail about and wonder why we ever wanted to move in the first place. I'm wondering that now, just a little bit. I know I don't want to stay here. I don't want to get old here. I do want to be closer to family. But I also like to know where Home is. Can't help it. Darn Cancerian Nesting Instinct. Anyway, more wait and see. Thanks for waiting with me.
~~~

That's about it for now. I'm kind of tired. A little dim around the edges. We're showing the house this afternoon, and Rick suggested we get our (my) work done early and call it a day at 3:00, when we have to vacate for a bit. We can take the dogs down to the river and have a little vacation. Really little, like an hour or two, but hey, an hour on the Rio Grande can be better than a week in a lot of other places.

moving on

Phew! That was a pretty intense few days. I'm happy to say that the Obama Squabbles have been peacefully resolved, and we can move forward now, agreeing to disagree on some things, and remain united in our love of Truth, Beauty, and Beads. Amen to that, sistah.

So how about a radical change of topic? Let's move on to... dolls.
I bought one. Yes, I have a new dolly for the first time in 40 years. I'm only slightly embarrassed to tell you this. Let me start by saying, It's all Jean's fault! You know her. Jean Yates. Wonderful friend, damn fine jewelry designer, terrific writer, and total troublemaker. She got interested in Blythe dolls a while back, and I saw what a trend frenzy is going on out there, with all the dolls and clothes and tiny little dolly accessories. One thing led to another, and my mild interest became something of an obsession. I began haunting doll websites and eBay, and then Jean (that Jean again!), sent me an eBay link to the most perfectly quirky doll I've ever seen. I knew instantly that she was meant to be mine, but I didn't place a bid. There was almost a week left in the auction, so I waited, and waited, and waited... until the last five minutes, when I scooped her up, just like that. She arrived here two days ago, from Hawaii, stark nekkid. Having no doll clothes lying around the house, I grabbed a pirate bandanna (doesn't everyone have one of those?) and, recalling my old hippie costuming skills, fashioned a lovely little dress in nothin' flat. Meet my new friend Poppy, here with an email from Jean...



My justification, if I need one, is that since these dolls are all the rage in certain circles, I might be able to cash in by making some jewelry for them. But if I'm honest, which you know I am, I really just wanted a doll. This doll. I've made some cool jewelry for her already, of course, and have even gone so far as to take her to the studio and pose her for pictures with some of the other interesting things I keep out there. I swear I will not start posting albums full of doll pictures on Flikr. And I will not collect dozens of dolls, and my doll will not have a Barbie Dream Wardrobe, so to speak... OK, maybe lots of shoes, because they're so cute and really affordable... but the girl is dressing simply, in order to show off her beads! She is a Business Expense after all. She needs to do her job.

But you know... there's something oddly charming and comforting about having this weird little toy to keep me company. Maybe it's a memory of that coziness of childhood, when a doll was also a companion. Maybe I'm not the only one who wants to think there's life in everything, including inanimate objects. Remember Tom Robbins' characters Can o' Beans, Spoon, and Dirty Sock? They were real, and oh so entertaining. So maybe it's not so weird to have a doll. Maybe two... But really, that will be enough for me.

love me, love me not

I knew it would happen. Not exactly "hate mail", but something along the lines of non-fan mail. My decision to bring politics into my business wasn't a difficult one. At nearly 51 years old, I'm in that wonderful part of my life where pleasing everyone is no longer a goal, and speaking up for what I believe in is as necessary as breathing. My work, my play, my beads, my business, are all part of the whole that is my life. Extending that further, my one little life is part of the whole that is all life, that is all of us.

Since I posted my plans to make Obama Beads, in support of his campaign, I've had some really nice and supportive comments left here on my blog. The not so nice comments have all been sent directly to me by email. I suppose it's easier to scold me in private, where the world can't read what they say. But since I'm pretty much out there in the open about most things, I'm going to respond to all of them here...

I feel an ethical obligation, and a right as an American citizen, to make use of my business as a way of supporting what I believe in. I believe in light, and love, and peace. I believe we can all get along even if we don't agree on every little thing. I believe that most things are really very little. I believe that George Bush has spent eight years doing his best.... his best to destroy the Constitution, take away our personal rights, fatten the wallets of himself and his pals, and to ruin our reputation as a decent, caring nation. I believe we have a lot of repair work to do, and I believe Obama has what it takes to turn things around and take this country, and the world, in a positive direction.

I get to say that, here, or anywhere else I choose. Freedom of speech is something we still have. In fact, it's downright patriotic to speak up for what we believe in. If what I think and what I say offends some people, I'm sorry, but I still think it, and will still say it. There are some who think I should hush up, make nice, and just pump pretty beads out into the world. Others have suggested that if I don't believe what they believe, they will be "forced" to stop buying my beads. I have to wonder if they go to the trouble of checking out each and every store or service they spend money on, to be sure they only deal with people who are Just Like Them.

I can't please everyone. I don't even want to try. Unfortunately, religion and politics still divide people. Like John Lennon, I imagine a world where we no longer need either one. Until then, I'd like to suggest that we all respect each other's beliefs and differences. I don't mind that not everyone wants to see Obama become president. I'm not here to offend or to convince anyone. I'm just doing my job, and the job description continues to change and grow as I do. Take it or leave it, but enough of the outraged, finger-wagging lectures. Like me or not, like my beads or not, you get to choose how you spend your time and your money. I trust that there are enough open-minded, wide awake people in the world to keep me going for a very long time.

So yes, I will be making the Obama Beads. Soon. I have a long list of people who want them already. Yay! The beads will cost $45, same as my other Talking Beads. $5 from the sale of each will be donated to Obama's campaign fund. I'm not sure exactly how that translates into "percentage of profit", but it's generous. The shipping charge in the US is $5 for Priority Mail. If you buy two beads, US shipping is free. I'm working on a couple of other designs too, so there will be a three to choose from. Probably something in blue and white, and another blingier, clear & CZ version, that can be worn with almost anything. (And no, I will not make McCain beads. That will be someone else's calling.)

I'll begin by posting these on my website, making it easy to click and buy. I think that will be the easiest for me, but I won't know for sure until I see how great the demand is. I'm also making a list of names of people who want these beads. Drop me an email if you'd like to be on that list. I'll try to keep up!

Many thanks to all of you who stand here with me. I know there's a fence dividing us from others. Little by little we can tear down that fence. I need to remind myself every day to "shine the light", and not to take others people's stuff personally.

Still want to yell at me? Well, take those wagging fingers and aim them at the lazy non-voters in your life. Part of my goal here is to get people excited about the process, and to get them to participate. There's no point in arguing. Do something constructive instead. Get some excitement going.

We have work to do. Let's get on with it!

peek into my studio

It's Friday, and I'm all talked out. So here's a link to an interview with Yours Truly, on Art Bead Scene. Thank-you Jean Yates, for asking all the right questions!

Have a great weekend. There might be a surprise in my BeadShop on Monday... Just sayin'...

Signing off-
Kim
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. I woke from a very clear dream this morning, where Rick and I bought a lovely work/living space in Ashland, Oregon. The studio part was industrial-chic, and the living space and back yard were a total garden oasis. We called it the Bead Sanctuary...

The first thing I did this morning was check to see if BeadSanctuary.com was available. It was, but it isn't any more, because I bought it. Maybe it's just a weird dream, or maybe it's something. The only way to find out is to follow the little silver thread...

ruffled feathers

OK, I know I'm looking for trouble here, but I can't resist. It all started the other day, when I posted this bead, with the following description...



Patriotic (but hip!) red, white, and blue, with four sparkling CZs, and OBAMA 2008 stamped into the silver. If I get enough requests for these, I'll set up a permanent section here in the shop, and will then donate a percentage of each OBAMA bead sold to his campaign. Want a McCain bead? Sure, I'll make it for you, but I'll still give the cash to Obama!

Well, the bead sold instantly, to a friend in Canada, who says she'll cast her vote in beads. And then I got a very irate email from someone in Texas... I haven't been scolded like that in quite some time. I think she misunderstood, and I tried to soothe her. Pretty sure it didn't work. Also pretty sure she's no longer a customer. Well, that happens now and then. I can't please 'em all, now can I? But I did go back and tack on the following "translation", just in case there were others like her, as there undoubtedly are...

(Translation, for those who either don't get it or take it personally: I do not support McCain. I don't want to make McCain Beads. I'm sure there's someone out there who does. We can peacefully disagree on who we want for president, because we are Americans.)

Having sat with this little interaction for a couple of days, and chatted about it with Rick and some friends, we've decided it would be good to keep this ball rolling. They've agreed to help me with some of the silver work, and also to help make a little YouTube video, telling all about the Obama Beads. We think we can raise some substantial campaign money. We The People, being the change we want to see.

Without getting nasty and calling names, and trying really hard to avoid words like "idiot", I'll just say that I know I'm not the only one who's glad to see Prez George packing his bags and heading down the road to infamy. I wish him happy trails. And may all his little buddies just put on their boots and trot along to the ranch with him.

Tomorrow, I promise I'll wander away from politics. But you know folks... life is politics. Every little human exchange, from What should we have for dinner?, to Can we discuss my salary?, to Honey, do these shoes make my butt look big? has the potential for disaster or diplomacy. Some feathers ruffle easier than others.

And with that...



If you can't get the video to work here, try this direct link to YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FiQJ9Xp0xxU

strange sounds

We've been having a bit of a noise problem in our neighborhood. The teenage kid who lives a few houses down the street has decided to become a rock star. He has a mother who is either very indulgent or very deaf. The neighbors aren't feeling quite so tolerant... Of course after dark is the very best time to play loud electric music, and I use the word "music" generously here.

Last night, as we sat on the patio watching the moon rise, a loud and eery noise drifted up alongside it. It was kind of like a monster chewing off it's own leg, amplified to decibels normally reserved for the likes of Mick Jagger. It wasn't quite ten o'clock yet, so we couldn't really call the sheriff, but we were waiting for that golden hour when disturbing the peace is officially illegal, even in the wilds of New Mexico. We've called twice already, and they do come out and tell him to knock it off at one in the morning, but he doesn't seem to remember any of it the following night. We think he has some darn good drugs over there.

Eventually the monster sounds morphed into a bizarre a cappella rendition of Cat Scratch Fever. I don't know what happened to the usual guitar and drums, but their absence made it a lot easier to hear the astonishing vocals. Volume was not a problem, but I've never heard anyone hit every single note flat as a tortilla. That takes some skill. This kid has it. And we hope he'll go far with his talents... far, far away.

And then magically, at the blip of ten, it all went quiet. Our heads only hummed in echo for a few minutes, and the nearly full moon was beautiful in the warm, calm night. I went to bed humming Cat Scratch Fever, which made for some strange dreams and disturbed sleep, and woke up this morning to the sound of baby birds outside the window. Normally that would be a happy little sound, but my confused, sleep deprived brain though it was the sound of my camera, which chirps when I take a picture. I could not for the life of me figure out who was out there taking all those pictures at 6AM.

This might be a good day to take a nap.

happy father's day

I know there are some darn good dads out there, mixed in with the slackers and deadbeats. I've met quite a few, and so I have hope for the human race, because we women can't make things better all by ourselves. So here's to the good dad's. The ones who teach their kids about love and acceptance and kindness. I hope you have a really nice day.

I'm lucky to have two really great dads in my life. Rick, and my own dear Daddy. Yep, I still call him Daddy. Far as I know, that's his name. He taught me lots of things when I was growing up as the oldest of three daughters. In some ways, I also got to be the son. But that didn't turn out to be a bad thing at all. I learned all sorts of "guy" things that rounded me out as a person. Things like hunting and fishing and hiking and camping. OK... hunting and fishing didn't stick, but at least I have a distant respect for people who think those things are fun, and even more for the ones who do it for actual food. We're not all vegetarians, and I'm not sure we all should be. I sent my dad some lovely smoked salmon for Father's Day. These days, fishing is as easy as a few clicks on the internet.

Another big thing I got from my dad is my super human work ethic. He worked as a sprinkler fitter for over 30 years. Hard union work that I'm pretty sure he never liked. But it paid well, and supported his family. I don't think I ever heard him complain about it when we were growing up, but he doesn't mind telling me now that it really kind of stunk sometimes. My sisters and I are all hard workers too. Not a pampered princess in the bunch, although we'd all like to be to some extent. But when it comes down to it, there's a lot more value in knowing how to take care of ourselves, how to make a living, even how to pitch a tent and pluck a pheasant and clean a fish if necessary. With skills like those, nobody can ever push us Miles Girls around. And it makes it that much sweeter when we find help and support from our men and our friends. We've all managed to do that. We know how to choose the people we keep closest to us, and that's not by accident.

Rick is also one of the good dads. We raised three kids together - one of his and two of mine, and they all know how lucky they are to have him. Our kids also learned the Miles Work Ethic. They all worked with us in the pizza shop, and to be called a "princess" in our family was not a compliment. But they also learned that it's important to love what you do and to do what you love. Rick brought in a worldly monk's point of view that also made it OK to ponder the deeper reasons for our being here, and to follow our hearts when they sang out to be heard.

Rick wants to drive down to the rio for a little water time at Embudo Station today, so that's what we'll do. Later he'll want to watch basketball on TV. It's Father's Day. He can do what he wants. But you know what? He's such a nice guy, he can do that any old day and it won't bother me. I talked to my dad yesterday, and he already got his salmon, so our nod to Father's Day is taken care of. None of us really cares about The Day, but it's a good excuse to send a little gift and say something like, I'm glad you're my dad. And like Rick, my dad is a good enough guy to deserve a fish every darn day of the year. That's pretty high praise, coming from an outdoors man's daughter.


Kim and Doug (Daddy) - Bear Lake, 1967

~~~
Later...
Here are a few pics from our trip to Embudo. What a beautiful place. My Barbie Dream House is set near a river. Wonder if I could live at this restaurant?

gardening

Rick and I did some gardening yesterday. Well, sort of. His back is doing better, but still not great, and he still spends much of his day lying down. He's tired of this, and so is our yard. So I suggested putting the weed whacker to use, at least close to the house where things are looking extra crappy, and he was able to manage that for a little while. It's a light weight gizmo. No bending or lifting required. Then, since he can drive without hurting himself, I sent him to the nursery for a few flowers to brighten up the place.

I should mention here that I am not a gardener. I don't even pretend to be. So for me to say, Hey Honey! Let's plant some stuff! was way out of my usual comfort range. But with some coaching from my Garden Guy, we managed to fill two big tubs with petunias and two hanging baskets with geraniums. Nothing worth showing you a picture of really. You know what geraniums in a pot look like. And poor Rick - after that little burst of energy, he was pretty much done for the day. I'll go easy on him today. Guess I can whack weeds as well as anyone.

My own personal form of gardening is really in beads. I've done flowery numbers for years, and just recently, they've begun to wander off in some new directions. Here's one I like quite a lot. It's called Poppy Love. And yes, it has a story...



Smitten to his very toes, Renaldo was about to offer his land, his sheep, and his best milk cow in exchange for her eternal love. But the worldly vixen, Priscilla, was destined only to break his heart. He tried to dazzle her with flowers, but she knew... it was only Poppy Love.

my day at the circus

As it turns out, I got my sequin fix. Karena sent me this photo. Just a little test shot with her new camera. I love this picture.



Somewhere, packed away in a box of Very Important Stuff, is a picture of me at about age four, in a sequin encrusted pink piggy ballerina costume, complete with tutu, curly pipe cleaner tail, little satin ears, and tap shoes, which make no sense at all with a ballerina costume, now that I stop to think about it. But unable to find that scrap of my glamorous past, I spent the day in the studio, making quirky circus-themed beads. Most are small and sensible, sort of. And then, out of nowhere, came this big, strange hunk o' molten madness. I call it Mister Twister. See the tornado coming out of his mouth? It seems the Tornado Man is finally getting a taste of his own...



The story goes something like this:
At long last, the evil Mister Twister is trapped in a magical Big Top Prison, where he will spend All Time twirling in his own dizzy destruction. Never again will he wander the wide open land. Never again will he harm anyone but his own silly self. People flock to the Psycho Circus, and plunk down their dimes, eager for a peek through the one small tornado proof window. And when they go home, for the first time in their lives, they sleep and dream like peaceful puppies, knowing they are finally safe indeed.

in need of sequins

I'm eating a juicy, sloppy plum, right over my keyboard, and watching the trees start to bend in the wind. It's early for that today, but the wind doesn't wear a watch. And if you get mad at it, it just says something like, Sorry lady, I'm just passin' through...

Wind Season is unusually... windy this year. It sucks. Or blows, to be more accurate. All I can think of this morning is running off to join the circus. Can you still do that? I haven't seen a traveling Big Top around here in a long time. Maybe Cirque du Soleil has taken over the circus world. That would be sad. I couldn't possibly live in Las Vegas. And I'd miss the peanuts on the floor and the edgy freaks primping in their painted wagons. Ah well... they'd probably make me work in the ticket booth or the hot dog stand. That wouldn't suit me at all. I want to wear sequins and perch on the elephant's head, waving my arms in big, graceful greetings to the adoring crowd.

If I can't have that, well, forget it then. I'll just wait for wind season to pass, and hope that monsoon season isn't too dramatic this year. We thought we'd be in Oregon by now. We thought we'd be stopping at the Grand Canyon on the way. We thought we'd be visiting friends and relatives this summer, and going to the Gathering in Oakland. I even thought I was going to France, in just a few days, for a lovely artist's retreat. But try to make plans in this goofy world... God says, HA! Stay in Taos and eat a plum in the wind. It'll build character.

Character... I think I'll go dust off my tiara and wear it all day long, waving my arms at the trees, as they wave back at me. Does that count as character? Or is it just plain nuts? Wind can do that to you.

hello dolly

I had my share of dolls when I was a kid. With three girlie girls in the house, there were dolls of all kinds all over the place. I had Barbies and babies, Hi Heidi, Liddle Kiddles, Madame Alexanders, Mary Poppins, and even a life-size (if you're a three-year-old) Patty Playpal. I actually still have Patty, but since her inner bungee cords all rotted years ago, she's in pieces in a box somewhere. I can't bear to part with her, and somehow never get around to getting her fixed up. It's kind of gruesome to open that box and pull out a head or an arm. It's also kind of useful around Halloween...

Anyway, I thought I was up on all the dolls that have been popular in my lifetime, but somehow I missed the brief appearance of the Blythe Doll in the early 70's. I was kind of out of my dolly years by then, pretending to be a baby hippie in high school. But Blythe has just been brought to my attention by my friend Jean Yates, who having been doll-deprived as a kid, has just adopted two of these strange creatures. I read somewhere that they're modeled after the paintings of Margaret Keane. Remember those kids with the huge eyes? The Blythe dolls look like them. Frankly, when I first saw them, I though they were kind of creepy, in a cool way, with little skinny bodies and enormous heads and eyes. They look like Christina Ricci in a Tim Burton movie, which isn't necessarily a bad thing.


So it seems the Blythe dolls have made a comeback, and are a red hot rage all over the world. There are zillions of websites selling clothes and wigs and accessories, and other sites where you can post all your favorite photos of your dolls. Respectable grown up people collect them and carry them around, and books have been written about the style and fashion sense of the Blythe girls. Gina Garan seems to have singlehandedly brought Blythe to super star status through her books and website, This Is Blythe. I don't know how I missed all this, but now I feel like I've just been allowed into some kind of secret clubhouse.

Jean was asking if I would make some beads for her dolls, so of course I said, Sure!, and started to do a little research. One site led to another, and before I knew it, I had spent half of my day yesterday reading about these dolls. Eventually I also ran across the Pullip dolls. I'm not sure if they're knock-offs, impostors, or just a natural off-shoot of the popular Blythe. They're edgier and quirkier, if that's possible, and "fully articulated" to make them quite pose-able. By the time I went to bed last night, I was totally obsessed with getting a doll of my own. After all, if I'm going to make beads for them, I'll need a model, now won't I? I had no idea I'd get sucked into this doll vortex, but here I am. And one day, this little beauty shall be mine...


Yes, I am a little worried about me. But come on - you don't really expect me to resist a pirate doll do you?

wondering

Here's Rick, eating his breakfast of turkey and avocado on toasted whole wheat. I make a very good sandwich. And look how nicely a plate rests in the little floaty ring. It may not be a life saving device, but it makes a nice breakfast tray. Heidi and I are taking such good care of him... I'm beginning to wonder if his back really hurts, or if he's just enjoying all the pampering...



Just kidding. He really is in a lot of pain. But thanks to his favorite nurses, he's feeling a little bit better.

my friend deborah

If you live in Santa Fe, or can possibly get there tonight, be sure to go to the Blue Rain Gallery for the opening reception for Deborah Rael-Buckley's new works, entitled Passages. Rick and I can't go. His back can't take it. But we got to see the new pieces while they were still in Deborah's studio a couple of weeks ago, and they are far beyond fabulous. I love to hear Deborah talk about the symbolism and layers of meaning that go into her sculptures. It takes them high above their obvious gorgeousness, into a whole other place where past and future get together for an intricate dance in clay. I love her stuff. We even have a special piece that she made for us this past Christmas. A treasure that we will always love.

So go see the show, and for a preview, click to this short video of Deborah talking about her work. Look at her hands. They know what they're doing. And I love that she wears fancy beaded bracelets when she works. I asked if that was for real, and she assured me it's all true! She is fearless in the face of mud. And she is one of my Art Heroes.

normal

I think it's Thursday. Most days I'm not really sure, but I'm going to treat this like a Thursday and see what happens. Thursday is a sort of predictable day. Normal things happen on Thursdays, which is kind of comforting, to have one day a week that you think you know what will happen. It's rainy and gray outside, which I suppose is better than rainy and gray inside. Not sure when the dogs will get to go out. They don't care for raindrops pinging on their heads. Fortunately, they are both pretty patient, and have strong bladders. I guess they'll let me know.

Thursday is newspaper day, and flower day. It's really one of the most festive days of the week around here. At some point today, I'll gather up anything that needs to be mailed, and drive off to the post office. On my way, I'll stop at any busy intersection in town, and buy a paper from some brave person who's standing out there in rainy day traffic, risking their life for that twenty-five cent tip. We won't read most of the news. A glance at the front page to see who's in jail this week for killing their girlfriend, and then straight to the Tempo to read about the entertainment possibilities for the weekend. We'll most likely stay home, but it's always worth a look.

Later in the day, Katy George will drop by with a car load of fresh flowers. Katy is a clothing and hat designer, but in Taos, nobody does only one thing. Katy is also the Flower Lady. Every Thursday she delivers fresh flowers to a long list of people, for a mere $14.50 plus tip. I always tip. I am a firm believer in tipping. It might even be a religious thing for me. And even though I'm cutting back on a lot of things these days, I've assured Katy that flowers will be the last to go. Times aren't that bad, and it's a touch of gentle pampering once a week to have cheery new flowers in the house. It's a small thing, and it makes a big difference. It keeps things feeling kind of normal.

Defining "normal" right now is tricky. With Rick's back out of whack, nothing is really normal at all. He feels awful and can't do much of anything but find a comfortable position and read a book. He spends most of his time in the bedroom because, fortunately, we have a good bed. It keeps him from hurting too much. But he has to be getting bored by now. He's not a slacker couch potato. He's an active guy who likes to be moving around a lot. And as hard as this must be, he's not complaining at all. You know how most men turn into terrible babies when they're sick or hurt? Not Rick. He's amazing. And his amazingness makes it easy for me to be a much nicer nurse than I normally would be. I'm usually good for two or three days, tops. Then it's just time to get well, dammit.

We're learning a few things from this. It's been a week now, and we've already discovered that there's no point in wanting to get back to normal. Back to anything never works. And I think it's interesting that it's his back that's injured... The only way to go is forward, so that's what we're doing... moving forward, by smidgens each day, to whatever the new normal might be. I can't even guess. But moving in tiny bits makes it a lot less scary. I imagine snails and turtles to be pretty fearless. One little slide or step, take a rest. What's to worry about? Normal happens at every moment. Now, and now, and now...

Finishing up here, the rain has stopped, and the sky opened up to show a dusting of new snow on the mountains. I took the dogs out and had a look around. Snow on a Thursday in June. Definitely not normal. Guess we'll have to wait and see about the rest.

quick update

Rick is feeling better today. He's seeing a D.O.M. for adjustments and acupuncture, and it's helping. I really want him to be better soon. Pain sucks! I feel so terrible and helpless seeing him hobble around like this. And Selfish Kim also wants him to get well because I'm running myself ragged trying to keep up with everything. He started calling me "Angel" yesterday. Says it's the perfect nickname for me. I've never had a nickname in my life, and this one really makes me squirm... I don't think it fits, unless there's such a thing as a grumpy, surly, "I need a drink!" sort of angel...

But we'll be fine! It's only a temporary diversion. You won't hear much from me until he's back on his feet, but thanks for all the Light you've been sending. Keep it coming!

~~~
Same day... a little later... update on the update...

Rick's just back from the doc. There's improvement, which is good, but he has to take it super easy for a while. He over-did it yesterday. He needs to have x-rays, and probably can't go back to work for a month or so. It's still not clear what he damaged, but there's definitely something that needs time to heal. He's kind of discouraged. Send sweetness his way. I'll make good food.