The edge of the bittersweet loop.

Longing, desire and assailed by memories. Bittersweet. Yes that word describes my return after three weeks away from Marigold Loop. I slept upstairs above the garage where it all began three years ago. Since then we have lost the shuffling old man and the skittish dog. The return prompted by a family reunion and a house filled with kids not my own.

My sister picked me up from my house in Roslyn. My boys; adults and busy with their lives but popping into hang with Mom when they need her, so I left reluctantly in my mind to have to go back to a place I just left a little while ago. A place filled with hope, yet also of things I cannot have.

I met with my peeps and that was sweet too. The tripod is changing. Life is changing all around us and I decided that maybe it was for the best that I had to face and own up too this, assault on the senses. I'm ready to go home to that sweet mountain air; that I can now face up to in its own way, for its haunting memories mixed with all the new ones.

Vette and I watched Machine Gun Preacher last night. It was violent, sad and heartbreaking but showed a side of the world that we hide from. I have hollered the words 'be nice' a couple of times this weekend to my sister and then at her kids. I like people to be nice and kind to each other. Why do we have to be mean and hate?

Make love not war. That is a good line. I have always been accused of being a hippie and maybe they are right. But what is wrong with being nice and kind? There is definitely nothing wrong with making love and not war. Perhaps if more people were to make themselves happy with the pleasure of sex there would be less war, less useless violence and pent up rage. Even thoughts of sex have the power to melt me into a pliable kind giving person.

Bittersweet. Breaking down that word makes it not quite such a beautiful word...bitter. I never want to be an old women filled with lines of bitterness on my face. I want my lines to be as comma's around the eyes and mouth, showing laughter, happiness and a life filled with good times, great sex and even better moments.

Looking glass

I'm sore. Aching ass sore. There is not one inch of me that is not sore. My fingernails ache from pulling weeds and I have wounds from the weed whackers violent flings of debris. Everyday I add to my list of things to do and get done. The best part about yard work is that it only costs in pain.

I look forward to just going to work to set around. The days are long it is the part of June where every evening at the end of the day gets longer. It is twilight that is endless. Until the solstice.

I always seem to think that Fall is my favorite season. And it is, but sometimes late spring is nice too. The lake is high and the edges are filled with the art of flotsam. I love to go out there and hunt for sticks. I plan to make a trellis from them and then to also make a bean teepee.

 
Rummaging through natures free hand outs. The limbs of trees that have flowed through melting snow. They arrive soft and polished at the lake shore. Makes me almost miss having a dog that loves to chase the perfect stick and at this time of the year there are thousands of perfects sticks.

I have had some good conversations this week, Nate my old renter dropped a saw on his thigh and limped by and stopped to chat. Today I talked to the Mayor of Roslyn. Once upon a time he stole my dog 'C.O.' may she RIP she died last winter. Another dog he stole 'Harley' was with him as he watered my neighbors rhubarb. The yard looks a little better everyday. I'm thinking my ass and arms will be looking well toned by the end of the summer.

Honey dew

#61 graduates

Almost finished with my second week of working from home. Last week I was not so sure I would want to keep my same schedule of 1-10, it meant a lot of time in my house. This week I'm loving it. I have a vast amount of time to work on my 'To Do List.'

This week I have stained my lean to that covers my furnace and garbage can receptacle. I stained the steps and I started on the wood that lines the base of my house. Then I also started building a rock wall. I coated my island and going to start a garden. It's refreshing to come in the house and sit around working for eight hours. By ten I'm beat and taking a soak in the tub then head to bed and up doing it again the next morning.

I love it that I can go hunt for rocks.
I love it that I can walk to go get my mail.
I love the silence.

Number 61 graduated by the skin of his teeth. Both my kids are adults. Life is good.

Well equipped

I have been officially equipped and deployed.
I start working from home tomorrow. Wow!
I wonder how it will change my life? And by this I mean maybe my creative flow?

For the last year couple of years I have been at my parents and writing in different formats, suddenly I find I have my own space again and stuff as well. Will I seize up, dry up or embrace and release. What will happen when my work is in my home? I have been focusing on ways to make myself not lose certain routines and schedules, but to also create different ones for myself.. I don't want work from home to suck the creativity out of my life.

I have started painting again and that gets me out of the house and will continue to get me out of the house; to hang, work and create with fellow artists and they inspire me.
I at one time planned to have my writing desk as my office desk. But this morning thought suddenly no.... I need to move it to my bedroom so that it is separate from my work life. So that writing is still a retreat from the real and painful world.

I plan to walk more. I can walk to get my mail and be in the heart of the City in minutes. I can walk to the bar and have a beer. I can walk just a small bit and be in the heart of the mountains and forest. I have a built in network of friends. It will be good, so good.