Skip to main content


Showing posts from July, 2012

my love affair with wildflowers and meadows continues

The lands around here are replete with big swoon-worthy blossoms and incredibly blue skies.  Even my boys are marveling at the fat black-eyed susans and abundant queen ann's lace sprinkled along the sidewalks and at the park.  We stopped by to pick some flowers in the nearby field by the road the other day, and we were shooed away by the owner saying she had just planted it. I didn't know it belonged to anyone.  It made me kind of sad since I loved that colorful patch of earth ever so, and now that's been diminished.  Note to self: when growing a meadow, share the abundance with all who love it too.

unexpected adventuring

We've been wandering around town, and hunting treasure at the local parks and beaches.  We been on little adventures at the children's museum and the boardwalk arcade.  We've slept in fluffy cloud like beds, had dinner under the covers, and swam in the sunlit pool and jacuzzi.  We've drawn Pokemon characters, stamped some inky collages, and colored in a rainbow of Poke Balls. We've thrown rocks off the dock, quarters into skee ball machines, and pennies into the fountain... I have been trying to not think of it all as a consolation prize, a sad second to what we originally had planned, a family trip to Maine and a weekend in Washing DC I have been thinking about for months.  I have been trying to be supportive wife and a fun mom despite the state of affairs, a sick husband, and a father who has just begun six weeks of radiation treatment, and weather that just doesn't want to help my bid to keep the kids out of the house.  I have been trying to work wi

girl crush

Confession:  There are women in my life as well as just on the edge of my periphery, who totally set my heart a flutter and often illicit from me a full-on swoon. You know, the kind of girl who is like magic incarnate, shiny in all of her imperfection and innovation, the kind who bestows her gifts freely unto the world, openly, lovingly and with a side of sweet and savvy bad-ass because she just can't help it. Truthfully, it's not really about what  they create, which is never short of awe-struck amazing, it is more about the how and the why , and their living, breathing story of a life embraced and well-lived as they channel goodness through all that they do, that is just so captivating.  That's what I love, the way such girls bravely and uniquely share the world through their eyes, their imperfect process through soul-searching insight and achingly gorgeous voices. I thank my pink skies every day for those who blaze the trails and hold their lanterns up so I c

wobbly birds

There are these funny birds that come to live on the island every summer and their favorite roosting spot is on the telephone wires right above the Plum Island bridge.  I have no idea what kind of birds they are, but they are large and awkward and look a bit like gangly ducks.  When the sun begins to set they all begin to line up, alighting in neat rows on the stretch of wires to stay for the duration of the night, as far as I can tell.  I have driven past them countless times, and every time I see them it strikes me how unnatural and wobbly they seem up there. They sit upon their precarious perch and teeter back and forth on the line, adjusting their tails up and down in order to maintain balance and you almost think they are going to topple and fall.  I marvel at how they actually do stay aloft and wonder a bit befuddled why they just don't settle in on a nice solid roof or concrete wall.  Seems like careless and risky behavior to me (see the 4th one? he totally looks like

wanting what you have

I was out looking for something to prop up two tables in the studio this morning.  I was about to pay $120 for shelves that could serve as legs for the table tops, but considering that I bought them both for only $40 (one of which is a beautiful butcher block counter top salvaged by Alex for free), I couldn't do it.  I love that saying, "It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you have."  So true.  Ask anyone who knows me, it takes me a lot to part with my money unless it's going to transport me (books, technology), entertain me (art supplies, movies), or provide me with lasting memories (trips, gatherings, parties and the like).  I don't want a perfect Pottery Barn home.  Buying new and expensive clothes off the rack hardly ever appeals, unless it's a bag or maybe a pair of boots then all bets are off, and I would never pay more than $40 for a haircut mostly because my hair can't tell the difference and neither can I. It's not tha

good vibrations

Energy shifts are so fascinating.  One minute I'm slow and slogging through, and the next I am buzzing and light as a feather!  It's what creativty and possibility do to me.  After wandering around a bit at the gallery as taking in a fabulous figure drawing show hung clothesline style, buying the sweetest ceramic bird with a little poem tucked inside, then off to a secret hideaway where I hope to manifest some collective magic someday, I felt renewed.  Driving in the car earlier that day my son said the same thing, how one minute he was dreading having to read, then suddenly a positive re-frame (going on a Book Adventure, as opposed to doing homework) inspired his interest almost immediately.  He marveled at the wonder of his own ability to see things differently and how that changed his perspective completely.  Bravo, my sweet boy!  A lesson for the ages. Spaces, people, and moments all hold energy like little pools of liquid light in infinite shades, and I am always amaz

the bounty

 {weekend visitor, the RMS Bounty} I don't know why it took us so long to figure it out, but we finally have an air conditioner rigged in our bedroom despite the impossibly narrow windows.  After sweating it out, literally, for five summers, we now have the divine pleasure of cold, dry air for sleeping in this dreadful, muggy and hot weather.  All I can say is, hallelujah!   I must have been the Wicked Witch of the West in a former life, for several reasons maybe, but first and foremost because I melt.  Having this cold escape reminds me of the younger years when Alex and I used to tuck into our cold, dark cave, watch movies, eat hot and spicy takeout, and make love for hours on end, safely away from the world as it wilted outside our door.  Now, not so much hiding out as we can't leave the kids to their own devices yet, tempting as it is at times, but I did lay in the chilled air with my littlest one last night bopping around a big red balloon and giggling under the cover

in which i pinch myself because surely i must be dreaming

Right outside my door is Paradise.  Alex and I sat on the dock last night watching the kids swim and catch crabs, and just kept shaking our heads saying how lucky we are to live in this beautiful spot.  I realize people go their whole life wishing they could live by the ocean, and somehow we managed to find our way to this tiny slice of Heaven where the kids can splash and play until their bodies are so filled with sunlight and joy and their little fingers and toes are completely crinkled from hugging the sea. It certainly was more luck than anything, finding this house tucked away on south side of the Basin, surrounded by bird sanctuary where the plovers come to nest and next to the only little breakfast joint on the island right across from the beach, that and the fact that we totally deserved to find peace after a traumatic initial foray into home ownership.  It's nothing fancy for sure.  The house is small and unassuming.  The roof sometimes leaks, the windows

creating more, producing less

Can we just talk about this weather for a sec?  The divine, sent from heaven, dry and sun-kissed breezes, the gorgeous sunshine and dappled blue skies, the cool and comfy perfect sleeping temps at night?  I want to weep with the sweetness of it.  Truly.  I can't even complain about the green heads arriving early this season.  Nope.  This is perfection on a stick. So what have I been doing with myself in all of this perfect weather?  Admittedly, not much.  Writing some, organizing some, thinking and planning a bit, making lots of things with the kids and wandering, wandering slow and easy.  My days have taken on easy kind of jazz rhythm where most days feel like a Sunday morning.  The to-do list has shrunk considerably and it seems most things lately are being served in digestible bight-sized portions, so I am feeling productive and proactive for the most part.  I think this slower pace suits me well and our lives are still busy and full with camp and birthdays and family and

little fishy

I'm not sure why, but he started calling himself "little fishy" and me, "mommy fishy" about a month or so ago.  He's going through a push and pull phase of wanting to still be little, but also wanting to be Big at the same time.  He wishes he could go to camp and ride on the big rides like his older brother, but he also wants to be held and cooed over, still (thank goodness).  Most of the time he has to do everything   by himself and if we intervene in any way it's an automatic do-over, closing and opening things, tucking himself in, reaching for things, putting things away, so everything takes twice as long to get done these days. Alex keeps reminding me we will be happy about this fierce independence, later.  They say that with every child you are a different parent, and I completely believe it.  I often feel a bit guilty that my oldest got the short end of the parental stick as I was probably wound a bit tighter during those first-time-mom years

the memory of frosting

The Memory of Frosting When we were little my dad used to make us homemade birthday cakes cut into familiar shapes and displayed on large foil covered boards; a Raggedy Ann doll with Oreo cookies for feet, a big white rocket ship among them.  I can vaguely recall him making the intricate details with colored icing and dotting row after row of little frosting stars to make these in our honor.  I know I have pictures of them somewhere and they were quite impressive in scale as well as in concept.  It's the idea of my dad imagining and then making these cakes for us that really is now so touching, because I understand as a mom now what a labor of love this is. Dad used to make us other things too, painted bookcases and cool furniture with matching upholstered chairs for our rooms, mine always pink and green, my brother's blue and red.  He even hooked me a beautiful rug wall-hanging with a big basket of playful, white kittens and my name stitched in curly capitol letters a

stuff we're not supposed to talk about

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar I've never read this book.  I understand enough about it that I'm pretty sure that the slowly sinking, sad tale could grab hold of me, but not in a good way.  Sitting with Sylvia's depression might be like holding my own raw and bleeding heart, too real, too gruesome.  I have been there, maybe a half dozen times since my teens, episodes which have erased countless days of my life into nothingness and left ugly scars on my soul.  But I admire her writing, her plight as an artist, and it makes me wonder why so many creatives walk this path where suffering burns bright like an unavoidable sun only to end in tragedy.  Is there really a connection in the depths of a creative soul where the wires of artistic vision and the shadowy wells of pain are inextricably crossed, or is that just an old stereotype? I have darkness and moments in my l

study in pink

When I woke up this morning at the crack of dawn (literally), I peeked out my bedroom window and saw the pink light on fire to the east.  I thought for a moment that I should walk down to the beach and watch the dazzling spectacle the sun was making, but opted to flop back into bed.  After a few moments, the urge was too strong and I scrambled out of bed again, found my flip flops, grabbed my iphone and the chair and quietly headed out the door. I have always wanted to photograph my favorite chair, a local vintage shop find, on the beach thinking how pretty and interesting it might look against a pale blue sky and the deep cerulean of the sea.  I've even vaguely pictured myself sitting in this chair with the ocean as a backdrop for a photo shoot as I have been meaning to get a professional head shot taken, another thing on the very long To-Do list. As I walked up to the top of my street to the beach path across the street with the chair balanced on my head,

so high i could almost touch the sky

{fly} {swing} {soar} {blast} {spin} {merry}

the Ten of Cups

I'm in a sweet spot, happily floating in a swirl of warm water amidst the icy cold and refreshing waves.  I've worked hard to get here while at the same time having been so patient with my life it seems, trying to let things settle into place. The space around me is quieter or maybe it's just a bit more streamlined.  Work is smaller and more focused and Owen is all about his dad these days, his veritable sidekick off on daily adventures together from dusk til dawn.  I know Alex is relishing this time and it makes me happy to watch these two in all their wild, boyish glory remembering not long ago those years that were all about the mama, and when I would say to Alex that his time was coming.  It is here, in full force.  So most of the time it is me and my little one playing, wandering, giggling, which I truly love and am so grateful for.  The two of us surly know how to chase a little adventure!  He is still is very much all about the mama, but growing more independ