The Friday Confessional, January 30th 2009

Confession Number 4:  I don't wear glasses.  I don't need them, as I actually have fantastic vision.  However I think that glasses on women (especially at the end of the day, while reading with a hearty glass of wine) are incredibly sexy.  

Confession Number 108:  I let my cat, Thai (he's the stout n' sexy brown fellow, not the disgruntled orange one - that's Sing) share my $90-total-splurge, Queen Size Swedish Tempurpedic Pillow with me at night.   Weighing in at a cool 17ish pounds and  stretching out a full 35 inches tip-to-tail, he snuggles into the kitty nook and purrs me to sleep.  This makes BC absolutely crazy.

Oh this game is getting fun!

Fess up my friends!

Retail Therapy

I'm not gonna lie.  It's been a rough weekend.  And yes, I'm aware that it's Wednesday, but I still feel like I'm waiting for Monday and the fresh beginning that comes with a new week.  

I've never been much of one to eat my feelings, stress happens (yes, in my life too believe it or not) and my stomach is the first to stage a rebellion.  My clicky-clicky-shopping fingers on the other hand, they are soldiers of the stanchest kind.  "What?" they say, "Feeling Blue?" they ask, "Why don't you come over here (Hello Etsy!) and look at this lovely necklace, this fabulous pair of shoes, or Ooh Ooh this amazing fedora?"  They have the best of intentions, but they are quick to try and spend my money for me.  

Luckily I've managed to hold them off the "Purchase" button for the last few days and instead been immensely gratified by several purchases from the month past showing up in a lumpy pile of brown paper packaging (this is of course one of my favorite things!).  Including, in all it's lilac-y glory, my new favorite shirt of all time.  Fits like a glove with a mass of artsy, twisted knots and braids down the front, don't be surprised if you see me in nothing but this shirt for the next week.  That said, I think you all should pay a little visit (with those clicky-clicky fingers in tow) to Afton River's Etsy Shop to drool over her well-made clothing.  And just so you know, I've got dibs on the "Gloria's Envy" dress!

See?  I'm feeling better all ready.  Who needs a therapist when you have Etsy?

The Friday Confessional

Confession Number 38:  I despise anything goopy, sticky, messy touching my face.  Face paint? Forget about it!  Chocolate, BBQ sauce, foamed milk, all these things I love, but I eat like a horse (lips curled carefully back, small bites with my teeth to ensure that every last morsel makes it all the way into my mouth).  But the real confession?  This is the reason I will lather love and affection on a baby from afar rather than cuddling - sticky baby hands on my face is a deal breaker.

Confession Number 92:  I always lick the spoon.  I have what some would call an unhealthy lack-of-fear of raw eggs (I know, I know) and love me some cookie dough.

Your turn, give me those confessions!

On the Art of Seeing

I just reread the chapter in Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek entitled "Seeing."  And "Seeing" has got me "thinking."

I know the way I see, and therefore experience life, is unique to me alone.  The sights that stop me in my tracks might mean nothing to someone else, and knowing that, I am ever grateful for the sense of seeing that I possess.  The ferns I have watched unfurl, an entire being uncoiling from a single spore smaller than the iris of my eye, the complete ecosystems that reside within a two inch square at the heart of a decaying redwood, these thing give me fodder to chew over for hours, no, days to come.  In the vast filing system of my mind there is a single tree clinging to a massive rock at sea, a vibrant purple sunset with perfectly vertical sheets of thunderstorms closing in, one young doe watching me in the Sierra Azul foothills, a deceased seal awaiting the carrion birds with the most stunning striated white markings.  

And the moss.  But you already know about me and the moss.

On a typical rainy day in the Chinatown district of San Francisco, in the midst of chattering throngs, whole smoked ducks, cheap slippers piled three feet high and the stench of the public, I found a bright orange bead stamped with symbols of good fortune in the muddy gutter.  I opened my eyes a little wider and found six more.  Good fortune, laying in the street, free for anyone who took the time to see.  

I am lucky.

"To look at any thing

If you would know that thing,

You must look at it long:

To look at this green and say

"I have seen Spring in these Woods"

Will not do.

You must be the thing you see;

You must be the dark snakes

  of stems and ferny plumes

  of leaves.

You must enter in

To the small silences between

  the leaves,

You must take your time

And touch the very place

  they issue from."

- J. Moffit

Run, January 11th 2009

I didn't even know what to make of the sunset

All bubble gum pink, pastel blue, covered in the palest gray wool.

It would have felt like a sugary-sweet nursery tale if not for the 

Aggressive shocks of verdant moss and the blood-crimson berries.

The odd song of the gulls kept me company 

As I ran through the park of naked trees, 

Each surrounded by the brittle brown aura of

Leaves long fallen.

The crows with their guttural gossip followed me

Past the melancholy of decaying tombstones

Thick moss, deep mud, punctuated by 

The occasional silk rose.

The dropping temperature invaded my throat

With its icy breath replacing my own

The rain stood in for sweat and 

My only defense was to just keep running.

A Booty Gal and Lots of Small Talk

Well, I am feeling much better, thank you!  I have officially started off my new year by sleeping more than I did the entire month of December, but I think that's a good move.  

So, since I know you're just terribly curious (or just glad for a new blog to read while you sit under the florescents - you know who you are!), here are some shorts on what my life has looked like the past two weeks.

I've been stomping all over town in new boots these days, cruising the sidewalks in my flirty Fryes and galoshing through puddles in my big, black Wellingtons.  But my favorite has been trekking up to Vivacé through the weather to sip ginger-infused-spiced-cider-with-black-tea-oh-sweet-jesus-it's-good while absolutely DEVOURING...

... Annie Dillard's "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek."  I'm trying to take it slow, I promise, but it's just so amazing that I end up nodding my head and making little noises and reading so fast that my fingers start twitching just to flip the page.  I know there is a lot of talk out there about this book, and a lot of fans, and let me tell you, it's for good reason.  If you believe in the validity, the beauty, the grit and the power of the natural world outside your home, then you seriously need to pick this up!

In other domestic news, I managed to not do a stitch of laundry for roughly three weeks and still survived.  I think this means I have too many undies.  No one should be able to go that long and still put on a clean pair every day.  I think somewhere in there is a New Year's Resolution, but in typical procrastinator fashion, I'm planning on ignoring it.  Kind of like how Thai ignored BC and I, and instead burrowed deep into 5 loads of fresh 'n hot laundry for a quick kitty snooze.

I've really been working up a storm in the studio, with new pillows fluttering into ye 'ol shop and new tiny paintings (only. 8. inches. square. Eek!) that I just adore.  BUT, more on that laters as there are some little details involved that are too top secret to show just yet.  OH I love secrets and I'm sooooooo bad about not telling...

Ok my friendlies, more substance will be coming soon but for right now I feel as flippy and light as the little chunk of my hair that always plays Farrah Fawcett.  Sit up tall, deep breaths, a smile on your lips and embrace the day!

- Umber

The reason why I know...

It's gonna be an amazing year.  And let me tell you why.  It's not because I rang in 2009 surrounded by my beautiful friends, drinking amber bubbly and eating way too much fondue (or really, fon-don't in this case, the taste was great but the cheese was questionable!  You should never need a knife to cut your fondue, that's for sure).  It's not because we sang karaoke, BC and I belting out Billie Jean while dancing like fools and sharing a mike (and nope, neither of us sounds the least bit like Michael Jackson but we do know every word to that song).  It's not because I felt fabulous in my new purple dress with my big bright yellow heels and matching plum colored tights.  No, all those things helped, but the reason I know 2009 will be amazing is this:

At 1:30 am, January 1st 2009, my BC walked the 1/2 mile and back under the dripping Seattle fog to the corner market that never closes (it's the dirtiest little city market around but with the best advertising scheme ever) to buy me a bottle of Nyquil.  My bones ached, my whole face hurt and my voice (without the ability to breathe through my nose) sounded like a chubby bunny contest winner.  And my man showed me selfless love first thing in 2009.  THAT is why I know.

He is a good man.

So Happy New Years my friends, I hope you rang in 2009 well.  I've much to say about this upcoming year but right now, there are fluffy white tissues and a nubby blue blanket calling my name.