Hugs and Rugs

The most striking memorable moment of being in the moment was the group that gathered. There are core groups that meet, live and enjoy the life of a small town. This was a gathering composed of all of those to celebrate a woman's life. It was amazing how she had touched every single core group and every person there, she had somehow touched their lives. We should all hope to achieve that kind of memorial service. Whether it was her kindness, her art or her friendship. She mattered and it showed.
The brick room was full of people saddened at her loss but happy to celebrate her life.

Molly Palmer of the bewitching blue eyes died on Monday March 4th. There was Jameson on hand, wine and two kegs of beer. People gathered in the renovated NWI building to celebrate her life. Two long rows of food and a separate section of dessert. Molly would have blushed and said "This all is for me?"

I looked around the room at her woven rugs hanging from the walls and railings and then at the group of people and thought, I want to achieve this. I want to live a life well and be remembered with such love.

I worked with Molly for three years at the Post Office, and would cover for her while she was on vacation. When I left the Post Office it was to take the job at the City of Roslyn. There I worked with her husband Joe for three years. It was during this time that they sold my house to me. They had many low ball offers, but Joe accepted mine and I purchased the last good deal in Roslyn. I planned to renovate the house as it was, and Joe and Molly liked that and sold it to me.

She made beautiful rugs and one summer just before they went on vacation I visited their house so that I could take care of their garden while they were gone. I got a tour of the looms, the garden, the house. Her garden was fabulous and the looms even more so. I have one of her rugs, it is beautiful and has traveled with me. The last time I saw Molly was at the grand opening of "Made in Roslyn." We hugged and I introduced her and Joe to Nick. She had submitted rugs and I a watercolor of 5th Street.

At the service Jen spoke of Molly and her three hug rule. Hug those around you and the people you are sharing your life with. As I sat with a group of people I have known and loved in Roslyn, throughout the afternoon I sat in the same place but people would come and set and the characters of Roslyn would change at my table. I hugged many of them, because I have shared my life with them and as we left for the day we were asked to take pots of flowers to plant and remember her by.

I selected the primroses that had sat at my table and will plant them in Molly's other yard that is now mine. I made plans to help Joe in his garden in the spring, Lani who had guided us at the Post Office had made a suggestion when I asked what should I do for him? He will be heart broken without her. What should I do? She in her infinite wisdom said, in my experience it is best to set a date two months from now to stop in and visit him. So I offered to come over and help in the garden, he said that would be wonderful, but you don't have to wait for that day to visit. He is right.

It was beautiful and she would have gushed and blushed. "This all for me? Oh you guys." The place was packed and her rugs and art were everywhere. Two sections of food and another whole one of just desserts, then the bar in another separate area, well stocked with Jameson and wine, Ball jars filled with Roslyn water and two kegs of beer.

I sat with the Beardsleys, Maria and Dino and the thought that kept coming to mind was "I want to achieve this."

We ate and talked and caught up and I saw so many people and different generations. It was just a beautiful memorial. Joe's five sisters were there and Molly's oldest brother surrounded by all the lives she had touched. After everyone ate, her closest friends spoke and the stories were amazing followed by a slide show with her favorite songs. Then the community could speak and share. Oh and this was preceded by a toast of Jameson by all in little dixie cups. After this the local musicians gathered and played. People came and went. All the generations and core groups that form or have formed Roslyn were there. Just beautiful and she would have been tickled pink but embarrassed just the same.

One of the most entertaining moments... Jan Skiba came and sat at our table and mentioned asking Stan if he thought her new haircut made her look like a lesbian. (It was my first thought when i saw her.) Then she talked about Joe, being single now and what a great catch he was with all that gorgeous red hair. 

But winter beckons

Thursday Jim and Kelly arrive to help me move the last two piles of tree limbs. The snow flakes swirl around us as we work, sometimes they stick and sometimes they don't. After we finish we head off to dump the load and go to lunch. When I come home I light a fire in my fire pit and start burning yard debris. Looking around in satisfaction they yard keeps getting better and better. A couple more loads and I will have it under control... with a plan.

Then Friday roles around, along with a snowstorm. Saturday it snows all day as well. Winter has not forgotten us. But at least when it melts I will be a step ahead of the game.

I also started writing snippets of a new book, with regards to the dream that I mentioned. On a day off why is it so hard to pick one thing to do? Is it guilt? 

Spring has Sprung

Time progresses.

I woke from a dream the other day, vague but intoxicating. The snippet of it as I came to consciousness, intriguing me in wonder and surprise. The premise? A woman who owns a whore house in post apocalyptic Utah. She builds her house of ill repute next door to a man who owns a livery. A man to protect her and the woman she employs. He was furious in the dream, that of all the property she owns she located her business next to his. She did it for security and because he was sexy.

Interesting dream I thought eyes closed and melted back into it to make it stick, comfortable under the weight of the quilt I made and the heft of the down comforter on top of that. The flash of it all. Dreams are that fast just seconds most of the time.

Today is like that morning I have gone back to bed after seeing Nick of to go fishing with his buddy Corey. I lay under the warmth of the covers in the chilled house. I have a rare day of no plans and alone with myself for a change of pace. What to do? It is sunny outside and the snow has all but gone in the last week. In February this is rare and Spring has come very early. Yard work? Write? Cook? Entertain? Friends? Lay around and watch movies? So many choices and so therefore I wander about the house trying to figure it out and achieving nothing.

This dream is in my mind all the time; haunting me and trying to figure it out... pulling it together for some kind of book, I think that I might write... and some great sentences come to mind from some recent conversations.

I'm going to grow old with you. The grass is not greener on the other side of the fence. No sometimes the grass is lush and verdant.

I treat myself to McDonald's figuring if I eat, I will get motivated. I also make three phone calls to friends....nobody answers I leave messages. As I munch on my lunch on a dirt side road I call my sister she answers and we catch up. She tells me Miss O had made a request, to see the house Nick worked on when we visited last Saturday. Very cute. She has an epic crush on the guy. He is pretty damn cute and special. We finish up our conversation and I head home to work in the yard. As the sun sets and the sky darkens I head into the house to finish this blog. Nick and I plan to make pizza and watch a movie. I have achieved most of the things I wanted to do today.

Also

I forgot Christmas, Seahawk Sundays, two brawls, Big Jim and Bill. Now they have passed by and we are well into the New Year. So perhaps I will make some time to talk about all this stuff. But this is a note to flag my memory and also to not forget that it happened.

Wherewithal

The cold air in this recent front has sucked any moisture out of the air. My lips are rosy red and chapped. I have been boiling water on the stove-top for days, putting moisture into the air. One night at the tail end of my own cold, I woke from sleep in the deep of the night and felt like I was going to crack in half.

An arid desert, dried and desperate for moisture. I got up and started boiling pots of water on the stove and after about an hour sat up in wonder from where I lay on the couch wrapped in a blanket, and inhaled deeply through two nostrils. A defining moment in the end of my cold. Breathing through two nostrils. Inhaling again deeply, alone in the house and room. I felt like I was finally, ah..what is the word..glanced around the living room and noticed the condensation on the glass of my front door. Saturated. The humidity covering the window in steam.Yes I felt saturated, my pores replenished.

In a small town the gossip, tales and stories can make you feel the same. Like saturated.. but in fat; gossip can pervade your pores, blood and bones. Saturated fat.. and gossip.. yep great analogy. Did I forget this part of living here. Maybe.

Now a week later I have recovered from the effects of disease and gossip. But. But then again Nick comes into the house this morning and someone I care about deeply has been arrested. Arrested for working in a bar. Yep that sounds asinine. Arrested for working. So the question of the morning.. who sold him out? Who gossiped about him? Nick and I have this conversation in quiet tones, because this is serious in so many ways. Who sold him out?

These thoughts run through my mind as I head back to my bedroom to finish this blog. A flash of memory runs through my veins. That scene in Heat, where Ashley Judd stands on the portico outside her hotel room and gives a silent signal to her husband Val Kilmer, to not sell him out. In this small tight knit town, that kind of sell out is just wrong. Who the fuck did it?

This time it is my blood that is boiling.


Snitch:

betrayer, blabbermouth, canary, deep throat, double-crosser, fink, informant, narc, nark, rat, sneak, snitcher, source, squealer, stool pigeon, stoolie, tattler, tattletale, tipster, turncoat, weasel, whistle-blower

Step up or step out

The question of the day will he step up or step out. What a heartbreaking weekend. Seahawks lost and Nick is still lost.

Facing a cusp.

Cusp: The dividing line between two very different things.

Friends only or everything. I want it all. I want him to step up and be the man I need him to be. And just once I would like a man to choose me over all.

PHEW... what a peak.
The Holidays are over and I'm busy, busy at work.

Yesterday all day long, I thought of all the things I was going to do today. My day off, in fact I even made a list.

Put away Christmas
Dump
Wood/loft/or Craig's list...exercise bike, tires.
Make cookies and tamales
Get paintings ready to hang at Mama's
Stretch the new canvas

Then I woke up exhausted.

It is the first two days off in a row in nine days after working twelve hour days or more with overtime. I'm fucking tired and just want to lay around and catch up on sleep and the pleasurable things. So that is what I'm going to do. New list...

Lay around in bed
Stay in pajama's
Drink tea in bed with kindle
Open and write in the new journal
Write a blog
Have lunch with Laura
Take a picture of the icicles and ice ceiling that has formed on my roof, that I should go beat with a broom but not gonna...

View out my office window