Wandering Strange Lands

Best-laid Plans

2011-05-29T18:02:00.000-07:00

I originally had this idea that I would be starting school in a state of calm preparedness; caught up on math, ready for algebra, physically fit, disciplined, everything organized to make my 5am-11pm or later days flow smoothly. Yeah. Not so much. Chaos reigns.
Because I decided that I needed to repaint my room now, all of my stuff is crammed into the closet or shoved into the small guestroom. My freshly painted old dresser is out on the patio; everything it held is stuffed into a couple of drawers somewhere else. We got our new kitten yesterday. I am revamping my first novel into a Young Adult book for a submission to an e-publisher. I've reverted to stress-eating, a series of minor injuries keeps thwarting my workouts.
And it's okay. Somehow it will all turn out well. How? I don't know. It's a mystery.

The People on the Bus

2011-05-27T00:03:00.000-07:00

She wears "professional for me" clothes. I heard her say this yesterday, when telling someone on the phone that a 23 year old had hit on her. Black skirt, leopard print jacket, ankle boots, and a few rhinestones glued to her cheek. Today she wore all black, with a red rose/black feather ornament the size of a tiny cocktail hat in her short, platinum blond hair. Bright red lipstick. She looks fabulous. From listening, I know that she's forty, that she has two kids, that she has a ten block walk home from the bus stop. I know that she processes loan applications for a living, and that her boss thinks she's weird. Maybe she is. But she's also kind, and friendly, helping newbies get to the right stop, comforting a stressed out young mother, giving encouragement to a teenager trying to get her life back on track. She's so vibrant, so fearlessly herself. At least she seems so. I look forward to seeing her, even though we haven't spoken.

Her fashion sense stands out on the Colfax bus. The norm is uber casual: jeans, tee shirts, baggy sweats, hoodies, cheap hookerwear, pajamas, pants hanging down so far that the wearer looks like a toddler with a loaded diaper. Mixed in with this are Muslim women in headscarves and long dresses, punks in black leather, creative hairdos, tattoos and piercings, Indian women in colorful saris, old men in suits and hats, ladies in their Sunday best. And there's the big genial crazy man who rocks the pimpwear: broadbrimmed leather hat covered in bling, a massive fur coat and a walking stick.

It was one of the pierced and tattooed crowd who took a woman loudly to task for refusing to make room for a man in a wheelchair. It's some of the roughest looking folks who help a stranger carry a stroller or a shopping cart onto the the bus. Scary looking teenagers give up their seats to elderly passengers.

People trade or give transfers, help someone out with busfare. They give advice on where to get help with food and shelter. They give directions. They share their life stories with complete strangers.

Yes, there are drunks, and loonies and obnoxious people on the bus too. But the longer I ride the bus, the more I see that they aren't the norm. They might stand out more. Yet most people are decent, no matter what their appearance.

Today I met James, who summed it up very well.

"Courtesy is making a comeback, and I'm glad. It's as if we as a society are realizing that we lost something precious over the last few decades. And I'm happy to see that young people seem to be driving it. Oh, by the way, I'm James." I introduced myself and we shook hands. He continued. "I make it a point to introduce myself. Because even though we may never meet again, we're here in this moment, as human beings, and we need to acknowledge that."

We got to our stop. James exited first, then turned back to extend his hand to help me down. I didn't need his help, but I accepted it. We said goodbye, and wished each other a pleasant day, then went our separate ways.

Riding the bus is getting me out of my little bubble. And I'm glad.

Dreams, Elephants & the Abominable Snowman

2011-05-06T19:10:00.000-07:00

Last night/early this morning I had one of those dreams that stays with you throughout the day. I was at a combination bazaar/world's most awesome petting zoo. Awesome in that it was really clean, all the animals were happily wandering around freely and their attendants were these really hot gypsyish guys who looked a lot like Oded Fehr in The Mummy. (He was the Magi with the cool facial tattoos.)

I was walking through the petting zoo when I was gently squashed between an elephant and a water buffalo. They nuzzled in and refused to budge. I'm not sure how long I stood there, comfortably close to the two massive animals. Then the water buffalo was gone, and I was walking away, with the elephant right beside me. The attendants didn't seem to mind when I walked out of the petting zoo with the elephant, his head pressed up against my side. He seemed to belong there. I could feel the warm, soft leathery pressure of his head against my shoulder. Eventually I sat down on a large mattress covered in bright blankets and pillows, and the elephant lay down next to me, much the way Puppy did. And we sat there, me and the elephant, watching the swirling colors of the bazaar as people walked by and looked at us as if we were nothing out of the ordinary, as if a woman and an elephant on a mattress in the middle of a crowded bazaar was the most natural thing in the world. I felt so connected with that elephant that when I first woke up, I thought "Where's my elephant?"

While looking for meanings and interpretations on various dream and animal totem websites I discovered that while there is a great deal of information on elephants, it's easier to find references to dragons, unicorns and the Abominable Snowman than it is to find references to water buffalo. It seems unfair; while they aren't especially glamorous, water buffalo are very important in some parts of the world.

Animal Speak, by Ted Andrews, addressed the myth of an elephant never forgetting. The author wrote that it's not that an elephant never forgets anything, it's that an elephant never forgets an injury, and that they have been known to seek revenge when an opportunity presented itself. Sounds all too familiar...although I generally stay in the grudge-holding phase without moving on to revenge.

But what I really take away from this dream is a deep and natural connection with something larger than myself, a place of stillness in a swirling kaleidoscope of color and activity. Something to keep in mind as I embark on this new journey of work and school and study: when the world is going by so fast, remember that there is a tranquil place of rest, of connection, of enduring strength and love.

In the elephant's five-pound brain

The pliable trunk's a continuous diversion

That in his great innocence he never thinks of as perverse,

The pieces of the world are handled with such a thrilling

Tenderness that all his hours

Are consummated and exhausted with love.

From The Natural History of Elephants by Milton Acorn

A brief, spoiler-free Deathly Hallows comment

2010-11-24T08:54:00.000-08:00

My sister told me that some people, mostly those who had not read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, found the new movie to be a bit slow.

Me: Yeah....I don't remember all that much happening in the first part of the book. It's more toward the end.
Sister: What? Blah blah happens, and then blah blah happens by page 15.
Me: Blah blah?!?! What? No!
Sister: Yes. Blah blah. Don't you remember?
Me: No...I must have blanked that out. Blah blah. That's awful.
Sister: And then blah blah, about a quarter way in.
Me: Awwww, no. Not blah blah. That sucks.
Sister: You did read the book, didn't you?
Me: Once. When it first came out. I remember the end, though.
Sister: You remember the last 50 pages. What about the other 709?
Me: Well...there was a lot of searching, and travelling, and talking, hmmm. Maybe I read it too fast. I need to slow down and pay attention. (Pause) Blah blah? Really?

Horses, Wagons and Other Imaginary Friends

2010-11-06T16:25:00.000-07:00

This is my imaginary horse, the Irish Cob, aka Irish Gypsy Cob and Tinker Cob. Isn't he lovely?

He pulls my imaginary Vardo, which alternates between the Bow Top and the Showman. Both are light enough to be pulled by a single horse, although a second horse was often added for going uphill. (See, I'm not just wasting my time writing; I'm learning stuff too.)

He's featured in my current NaNoWriMo project. In the novel, his name is Merry (his person is Pippin, the youngest child of a couple with a Tolkein obsession).

The detailing on these wagons is amazing; even the underside is decorated. In the course of my research, I came across a UK website. I emailed some questions about size and weight and horsepower; I got a very helpful response from the lovely Stef within a couple of hours. It closed with the Romani expression Atch Konyo - Stay Peaceful. I like it. It may become my new mantra. My frazzled neurons could use some peaceful right about now.

I have learned, as two weeks of graveyard shift stretched out into two months, that I am not a creature of the night. And so, as of tomorrow, I am switching to swing shift, because the fustercluck with the hotline ovens still isn't straightened out. Fortunately, I am valued enough that my boss said "Come to work whenever you want. Just write your schedule down for me." I think he's afraid that I'll stop coming to work. As well he should be. While my sensible self realizes the the good things about my job (income, insurance) the rest of me is bored to tears with the endless cycle of tea breads and rolls and breakfast pastries (the TPS reports of my world) is screaming F**K Pastry! and is only a hairsbreadths away from running off to join the circus. Or just running off period. And while I do occasionally get to stretch myself when a catering order asks for a 'nice dessert', that's beginning to seem pointless too. I am a carrot-motivated person. I work for praise. And while my boss, and my coworkers in the kitchen give me positive feedback, I hear nothing from the outside. Nothing. Whether I send out cheesecake from a box, or knock out a three item mignardise plate for 40, I hear nothing. It's disheartening. Yes, I understand the value of being self-motivated, and continuing to learn and grow for my own sake, but damn. I'm not used to this. And I don't like it. See what I mean about being frazzled from the graveyard shift? It wouldn't bother me so much if I weren't fried beyond belief.

In a way, I blame Cavalia. It opened up new worlds and possibilities. It showed me that the life I've made really doesn't fit. Somewhere, I got off course. And a lot of it could just be my attitude right now. We'll see what happens as I return to the sunlit lands. But right now, I have a horse, his boy and a circus family of shapeshifters that require my attention. My imaginary friends who are living my imaginary lives for me. Yay for NaNoWriMo, for giving me a way to explore possibilities, no matter how 'crazy' they might be.

NaNoWriMo 2010 - The Story (or lack thereof) So Far

2010-10-30T16:31:00.000-07:00

Despite the headstart, I think I may have even less to work with this year. Last year, I had characters who had been living in my head for years. This year, they are new acquaintances, and I don't know much about them yet.
There are two main characters, one more vivid than the other other. He's a shapeshifter with Multiple Form Disorder, comes from circus folk, and is a Vardo builder/artist. His parents are huge Lord of the Rings fans and named all five of their children after characters in the trilogy. The youngest isn't very bright, or as the shifter community puts it "he's not the sharpest claw on the paw."
She's a whitelighter/granola kind of person, vague and flighty, who is about to get a crash course in walking on the wild/dark side. Hopefully, she'll get more interesting; otherwise, I foresee a swift and brutal end, because main characters shouldn't be boring.
The writing starts Monday. After being up all night at work (do not get me started on my feelings about what should have been two weeks of graveyard shift having stretched out to two months! The hot line oven still isn't installed.) I'll be going to a four hour kickoff session at Jill's. She said there would be snacks. And chocolate. Her children will probably come home from school to find all their Halloween candy is gone...

Tartans and Trails

2010-09-18T20:00:00.001-07:00

Have you ever wondered why a tartan scarf is so expensive? I learned the answer today at the Celtic Harvest Festival. According to the weaver from the Ren Scots clan, it takes eight hours just to set up the threads on the loom, and another seven hours to weave it. So, yeah. That makes sense. I learned that the first tartans were a form of camouflage, woven in colors that would blend into the landscape. The use of tartans as a means of clan identification didn't come along until much, much later.

I also learned that Colorado has an official state tartan, and that State Tartan Day is July 1st. Everyone in Colorado, mark your calendars! The black and green represent the forests, the red is the soil, the gold is the, well, the gold, the blue is from the flag, the white is the snow, and the purple is the purple mountains majesty. The tartan looks much better on a large scale; it's hard to get the idea of it from this tiny patch.

I've started swimming again, and because I don't want to destroy my hair, I bought a swim cap today. Because my head is so big, this is the style I had to get. The shopkeeper (who laughed when my response to 'how can I help you' was 'I need a cap that will fit my giant head') told me that the racing caps are too small for a lot of people, and unfortunately, the 'little old lady' swim caps are the only alternative. At least it doesn't have plastic flowers on it. Raise your hand if you remember those.

On the subject of my hair, I got tired of fighting with the gray. After years of coloring it various shades of dark, I'm going blond. Sadly, this cannot be done overnight. So Tamara (my wonderful stylist) is transitioning me from black to blond through a marvelous use of foils. My goal is a Lothlorien blonde. Right now, it's more of a Rohan caramel/strawberry blond. It's fun. But blonde plus chlorine equals green. Hence, the oh so lovely swimcap.

Week three of the graveyard shift starts tomorrow. My awesome boss leaves this week. My lovely new ovens are supposed to ship on the 23rd. And Autumn arrives on the 23rd. At long last.

Today was actually a bit chilly in the morning, and towards twilight. I got to wear my favorite fleece hoodie on our walk this evening. The mountains were pale and misty, like a watercolor wash of blues, pinks and lavenders. The moon was high in the sky. The beaver family was out for an evening swim, their triangular wakes trailing behind them. The trails were empty, save for me and Puppy. The woods feel different in the twilight, the paths familiar and strange at the same time. Strange, but not menacing. I'm at home here, in my tame little wilderness. Until I remember the newly posted sign at the trailhead. Mountain lions are active in this area. Oh well. One has a fighting chance with mountain lions. And if one loses the fight, at least it's not a dull way to die.

For Everything Which Is Yes

2010-09-11T19:33:00.000-07:00

We were late getting to the park, so late that the sun had set before we were finished. The waxing crescent moon hung over the mountains, reflected in the still waters of the lake, slightly pink in the last glimmer of the day. Venus shone brightly in the western sky. I sat on a rock, watching the light fade, Puppy for once sitting quietly beside me. We sat in companionable silence as an arrow of geese flew overhead, as a pair of ducks landed in the water, as a lone bat swooped silently by.

This is where I feel God. Or the Goddess, the Divine , the Force...whatever name it goes by on any given day. No building, no circle, no ritual, no trappings. Just me, and nature, and the silence, and whatever it is that lies beyond.

I thank you God for this most amazing day,

for the leaping greenly spirits of trees,

and for the blue dream of sky

and for everything which is natural,

which is infinite,

which is yes.

~e.e. cummings

Morning Glories of the Corn

2010-08-10T13:34:00.001-07:00

For reasons unknown, the random morning glories are flourishing and blooming more than the ones I painstakingly planted. These same unknown reasons are likely responsible for the lack of blooms on all the vining flowers, and for the complete lack of female blossoms on the pumpkins and squash. I learned about male and female pumpkin blossoms and hand pollination here , but I can't work with something that isn't there. There are quite a few buds still to open, but this late in the season, it's unlikely that there will be pumpkins. Even if by some miracle pumpkins appear, they will most likely be eaten by squirrels. And the corn, it's about as high as an elephant's ankle. But it's attractively festooned with morning glories.

For Book Club, (first rule of book club, don't talk about book club...) we're reading Eat, Pray, Love. So far, I like it, although I don't understand the author's penchant for spending her nights weeping and sleeping on floors. If I'm going to be miserable, I prefer to be physically comfortable whilst being so.

I do understand her fascination with Italy and the Italian language; and yes, I was interested to learn that Ciao! comes from sciào vostro, an expression used in intimate conversation, an expression that means "I am your slave". Of course, I can't see myself ever saying or hearing sciào vostro , but I do like learning new things. No matter how apparently useless they might be. Actually, uselessness rather adds to the appeal.

Although, I suppose nothing is useless to a novelist. I could possibly work sciào vostro into the current work in progress, but perhaps I'll save it for NaNo 2010 : Morning Glories of the Corn. I have no idea what it's about. I have 82 days to figure that out. Ciao!

For the Beauty of the Earth

2010-07-17T06:58:00.000-07:00

We've lived in our house for nine summers. For nine summers, I didn't know the name of the forty-foot tall tree on the other side of the fence. Every spring, it produced frgrant little pink blossoms, but nothing else. The other day I went to check on the garden and found tiny golden fruits on the ground. Maybe the squirrels brought them. Another tiny fruit hit the ground. I looked up. The tree is full of apricots. Tiny, sweet, tasty apricots.
I don't know why the tree decided to produce fruit this year, after being barren for so long. Maybe the vibrancy of our garden is contagious. The backyard beds are thriving as never before.
The park is incredibly lush too; this morning we came across a patch of sunflowers, a currant bush covered in tart red fruit, spurred snapdragons, sweetpeas, myriad wildflowers and a stand of orange daylilies. We also received a scolding from a beaver, but that's another story.
Bees, dragonflies and butterflies are prolific this summer too; I'm not the only person to notice. The backyard is filled with birds. In a world where so much is so wrong, this little corner is blossoming.

O Frabjous Day!

2010-07-08T14:42:00.000-07:00

There is something about holding the actual book that is so much more real than looking at the ebook pdf or the endless Word document. Seeing my name in print on the shiny cover is seductive. It makes me think of possibilities and reminds me of childhood dreams abandoned long ago.
I signed up for NaNoWriMo on a whim. (Thanks, Jenn!) Characters who had been living a half-life in my head came rushing out onto the pages. They got on my nerves sometimes, when they'd do unplanned things, wander off, appear out of nowhere, or change genders or species. The goal of writing 50,000 words in 30 was just crazy enough to be exhilarating.
I didn't know about the 'prize' when I started. One of the Nanoites told me about it at a write-in. Six months seemed like plenty of time to rewrite the book into something worth printing. It might have been, if I had been as focused as I was during the month of November. But for assorted reasons, many of them having to do with laziness, procrastination and unemployment, most of the rewriting happened in the last thirty days. I may be a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Instead of jumping out of planes or off of bridges, I write against a crazy deadline.
There's still a lot of rewriting to be done. Scenes need to be fleshed out, characters need to be developed, and I'm sure that there are some gaping plot holes waiting to be filled. But right now, I feel good. There's a 300 page book in my hands, and I wrote it.

All kinds of projects

2010-07-04T20:51:00.000-07:00

After months of procrastination, an outstanding and generous job of formatting and designing by my friend Erin, and some last-minute hurdles at CreateSpace,

my NaNoWriMo 2009 is finally being made into a free proof copy. I should have it by the end of this week.

Erin also provided me with an e-book version.

I found a free novel writing software program - yWriter5. It has a lot of neat features that theoretically will make NaNo 2010 much easier. I'm testing it out by converting my Scriptfrenzy screenplay into a novel. I loaded the whole thing in and then started redoing it. So far my word count is -237. Yep, -237. Taking out all the screenplay formatting leaves a void.

**********

It seemed like such a simple plan; get the closet doors out of the garage and reinstall them in my room. I moved half the stuff in the garage, hauled out the doors, washed them off and dragged them inside. They were the wrong ones. Start over. Right doors, only half the hardware is missing. Off to the hardware store. Three times. Finally, all the hardware is attached. I shoved the bed out of the way so I could swing the door out far enough to pop the wheels into the track. There was a sickening crack. I had splintered the bedside table. 3 trips to the hardware store, one minor injury, a casualty (the table), a lot of frustration and the use of every swear word I know in every possible combination. All in all, a typical do-it-yourself project. All that was missing was a six-pack of beer. The upside of the casualty is that I rearranged things and now have a small writing desk in my room so that I can work undisturbed by television, music or phone conversations.

I finally got around to playing with the watercolors I bought over a month ago and the book on watercolor painting I got from the library. This is my second attempt at a cloud. It looks better than the first cloud(damning with faint praise). The example in the book added mountains. I added lava because I wanted to play with the iridescent paints.

The garden is coming along nicely. So is Puppy. Her surgery was a complete success and she needs no further treatment. We have started going to the park again. She isn't allowed to play in the water yet, but she's happy just to be outside. Her stitches come out on Friday.

Solstice, Plants & Pudding

2010-06-21T20:59:00.000-07:00

I began this morning by following a house down Kipling Street. This was followed by a series of mishaps in the kitchen; nothing serious, just vexing and messy.
I came home and made a variation of my Great grandmother Eva's Peach Pudding. I call it Blackberry Creamsicle pudding ( I'll get the recipe onto Cakes & Wine. Eventually.) Messiness continued as I learned that the pudding does not travel well in a picnic basket. It was delicious though. Our Solstice ritual was lovely, albeit a bit sticky.

If we were still playing Shadowshot Sunday, this would be my entry.

The garden continues to flourish. These iris were planted about five years ago. This is the first year they've bloomed.

This tiny blue flower is the latest of the Faery Meadow mix to bloom. It's a California Bluebell.

Fancy pink poppies.

Mini reflecting balls.

Ganging Aglee isn't always a bad thing....

2010-06-11T14:20:00.000-07:00

I was a bit miffed when there was a scheduling snafu for Puppy's vaccination appointment. But, if had gone as planned, we wouldn't have been at the park in time for me to take this:

egret and dragonfly

Or this:

Very red dragonfly

Or this:

dragon nymph/damsel fly

We might also have been caught in the torrential downpour currently going on outside. Puppy hates being caught in the rain and thunder even more than shots. So everything has worked out fine.

Goslings & Ducklings & Faeries, Oh My!

2010-06-05T20:48:00.000-07:00

One can't spend the entire weekend working in the garden (pulling weeds while being swarmed by tiny green bugs is not happy fun time) so we escaped to the park this morning. This is not the most in-focus dragonfly photo I've taken, but I love the transparency of the wings. This was the only cooperative dragonfly today.

The snow melt is well underway. Most of the year this part of the creek is shallow and clear. Not right now. This is the Goose Family's version of white water rafting. I did not get a photo of the goslings jumping off the bank into the creek. Their tiny wings don't work well for gliding; it was more of a plummeting into the water.

A domestic goose has integrated into the flock of Canadian geese.

See how tiny the wings are in comparison to the body? Geese are so cute at this awkward, fuzzy stage.

These are not Mallards, but I don't know what kind of ducks they are.

I finally got around to replacing the faery house. The last one I made was crushed by the snow over the winter. I went with a woven house this year. I haven't done basket weaving since fourth grade. It's very soothing. Perhaps that's why it's so popular in mental institutions.

This is the beginning of the roof. Kitty enjoys basket weaving. Actually, what he enjoys is playing with the reeds as one is trying to work.

It's hard to tell from the photo, but that's a beaded swing.

The finished house.

I've neglected my novel since beginning my new job (which is going very well). So tomorrow, I am taking the day off from manual labor (six days a week is plenty!) and concentrating on the book . I may have to work at the library; sometimes it's easier to work away from home. I have 24 days before the deadline. One of the characters has decided to change species. Sigh.

Ovens, Weeds and an Unaccustomed Lack of Free Time

2010-05-29T20:52:00.000-07:00

If our household had a principal export, it would be sticks. So many sticks fall into the yard that we have to rake before we mow the lawn. Our little push mower can't get through dandelions; a twig stops it in its tracks. Our secondary export would be weeds. Lots and lots of weeds. What we need here is a small herd of goats and a goatherd to keep them from eating the flowers and vegetables.

I really like my new job. I'm learning the quirks of my 30-something oven. Two of the three temperature knobs are unreadable. Some of the stone tiles are cracked. The bottom deck doesn't work, the middle deck usually runs cold and the top deck usually runs hot. But not always. Sometimes they reverse it. Dragonheart (that's the name I gave it) requires frequent monitoring and adjusting of its temperature. This will be easier once the new knobs arrive. Maybe the attention will make Dragonheart more cooperative ;) .

My writing energy has been going into my Nanowrimo novel. I finished round one of editing on the hard copy and got the changes into the computer. And made more changes as I was doing that. Tomorrow I start the process over again. I have a pact with a friend that whatever shape our novels are in, they will go to Create Space by the deadline of June 30th. We'll have a paperback copy of our works-in-progress (WIP in writer's lingo). And then we'll keep rewriting until we're actually done. I'm wishing I'd kept up with drawing; the cover design would be much easier if I could actually draw what I see in my mind.

Before I got this job, I got up in the morning, did my morning pages and then got on the computer. Now, I roll out of bed, get ready for work, and leave by 4am. When I get home, instead of doing my pages, I tend to fall asleep for a while. When I wake up, there's always something to do. Spending time on the computer just isn't that important right now. So don't worry if I'm not posting here or on Facebook. I'm just busy with other things.

It's Better This Way

2010-05-14T20:57:00.001-07:00

Dear Gigi's Cupcakes and The Shoppe,

Thank you so very much for not hiring me. Everyday, as I drive past you on my way to my wonderful new job at National Jewish Health, I'll think kindly of you.

When I look at my station, which is quite large and all mine, I'll be grateful to you. When I'm creating the bakery menu, I'll be glad that you thought I was just too alpha to be your minion.

Dear Whole Foods,

Thank you for the four times you turned me down. You turned me down for being overqualified and you turned me down for being underqualified. For essentially the same position, at different stores. Thanks to your rejection, I have a better schedule, better benefits and a better salary than you offered. You turned my new boss down once too. We're both just fine without you. No hard feelings, I'll still visit when figs and rambutans are in season. But your bakery is dead to me. Because I do it better.

To fifteen interviews and countless applications,

Thanks for keeping me busy until the right one came along. The funny thing is, this new job, as baker at National Jewish Health? I didn't actually apply for it until after I interviewed. I applied for Food Service Worker II, (which involved something to do with salad bars and trays and cleaning?) but when I got there, the chef told me he wanted to talk to me about a job that hadn't been posted yet. Something that would be a better match for my skills. So I had a great interview, and then applied for the job. And today I got my offer letter. I start Monday. I can't wait.

Because of all of you who said 'no', I'm in a job where I can use everything I've learned, everything I am, and where I have so much to learn and so much room to grow.

So thank you all very, very much for your part in getting me to this place. I really mean it.

I'm a Winner! I have a Blog Sticker That Says So

2010-04-25T12:31:00.000-07:00

Oh, Yeah Baby! The first draft of my first screenplay is done! If you follow this link to the excerpt, please be gentle with any comments. It's a first draft. It's supposed to be bad.

Next up, the long dreaded editing of the NaNoWriMo novel. I need to have something worthy of claiming my prize of one free paperback copy by June 30th.

Speaking of, I need a cover design. If anyone's good at drawing. let me know. There could be some free chocolate or pastry in it for you. Plus, the finished cover would look good in your portfolio. Everyone needs a portfolio.

Mindful Mindlessness

2010-04-23T14:24:00.000-07:00

Today I sat at my computer and noticed that there are only 15 pages to go to meet the Script Frenzy goal. Unfortunately, "THE END" is somewhere further away. I stared at the screen for a few minutes. I looked out the window and noticed that the rain was turning to snow. So of course, I had to get up and take a photo. All these tulips are from a few bulbs that were transplanted by squirrels several years ago.
I sat back down at the computer and noticed a splashy sound. Looked up and noticed that there was water dripping down the chimney of the woodstove. Mopped up the water, put a bucket under the drip, and called the people who did the roof. Sat back down. Looked out the window and noticed that it's snowing much harder. Opened the backdoor and took more photos. Sat back down. Wondered why I haven't heard from my last interview, not even the standard rejection email that this company sends out. Called the store to follow up. No one I need to talk to is in yet.

Puppy started poking me with her nose, so I put her in her little raincoat (she hates getting wet unless it's her idea) and watched her step carefully through the slush. Notice that her tail is still sort of curled; she's not that upset.

After being outside, she gets towelled off, which she does like. Then I sat back down and finally started working. Got all the characters to a masqued ball. And that's where they'll stay, because I don't know what happens next.

Call the store again, speak with one of the people who interviewed me. The process is taking longer than they thought; I'm still in the running.

I wish there was a place I could call to find out what happens at the ball. Some mundane chores might help. Something about mindful mindlessness frees my creativity.

The Totem Returns

2010-04-19T10:58:00.000-07:00

Today the dragonflies made their first appearance in the park. I would have missed them if I hadn't listened to the little voice that whispered 'go back the way you came'. So instead of taking the easy path back to the car, Puppy and I wandered the twisting, rocky path that follows the south shore of West Lake. And there they were; the red dragonflies. Over the past few years, I've come to think of the red and bronze dragonflies as the stalkers of the insect world. One will accompany me for a while as I walk the trail. Then it disappears, and is shortly replaced by another. I read today that dragonflies are very territorial. Sound like anyone you know ;)?

Prospect Park

Dragonfly is definitely my totem. My favorite of my three tattoos is a dragonfly.

Denver Botanic Gardens

Dragonflies can fly at speeds up to thirty miles per hour, yet they are very obliging about having their pictures taken. These were all taken with a small digital camera set to 'child', aka 'motion'.

My backyard

Dragonflies have been around for millions of years. There are legends that they were once real dragons; some people call them mosquito hawks because of their ability to catch flying insects.
So beautiful, such a fearsome predator. Delicate wings, crushing jaws. Welcome back.

Pond at Will's old house

Writing Outside in 10 Easy Steps

2010-04-12T13:54:00.000-07:00

Step one - remember that the laptop is portable, and therefore can be used in the backyard.
Step two - put Kitty on his tether so he can be outside too. (Our neighborhood has foxes, coyotes, skunks, big dogs and bad drivers. Kitty is not free range.)
Step three - ooo! Look! a butterfly!
Step four- get all set and ready to write.
Step five- get up to untangle Kitty from the rosebush. Notice that the rosebush is beginning to sprout leaves. Walk around the yard to see what else is sprouting.
Step six- fill bird feeder.
Step seven- follow a random thought and wind up on a website about the Sacred Feminine with an interesting article about the Sacred Prostitute. Send this link to witchy friends.
Step eight - untangle Kitty from cauldron planter. Tell him Puppy knows how to untangle herself. Receive the 'silence, underling' stare from Kitty.

Step nine- Spend a few minutes mentally redesigning the backyard. Realize a small horde of minions would be necessary. Wonder if this is a good day for planting because I still have moonflowers and corn to start. Realize this is not getting the page count done.

Step ten - untangle Kitty from rosebush again.

A Writer to an Univited Character

2010-04-09T17:09:00.000-07:00

Dear Attractive Manly Landscaper,

I did not plan for your appearance in my screenplay. But here you are, and it seems you are going to stay, no matter what upheavals it might inflict on my tenuous thread of a plot. I blame Mags, that mead-making Green Witch of a plant merchant from the farmer's market. Things were going along fine, until she up and gave your business card to the main character. This sort of reckless disregard for my intentions is very disconcerting. If this is how you people are going to behave, you should learn to type and just leave me out of it. What's that? You're all non corporeal and can't type your own stories? Well maybe you should have thought of that before.

Cough Syrup & Chutzpah

2010-04-05T09:18:00.000-07:00

"Hi, this is Daniel from Root Down. You answered our ad on Craigslist."
"I did?"
Laughter. "Yeah, you had a great cover letter about how even though we didn't list pastry you wouldn't let that stop you from applying, and that pastry skills would translate to pantry & prep. Which they do. We like your chutzpah. This place pretty much runs on it".
"OH! This was a blind ad, wasn't it ?"
"Yes, it was. When can you come for an interview?"
I don't tell him that I was stoned on cough syrup when I did my applications last week.
I set up a time (Wednesday) and go back to getting my paperwork together for this afternoon's financial assessment for lowcost healthcare. The phone rings again.
"Hi, this is Rhonda from Rolling Hills Country Club". They weren't looking for pastry either. But I have an interview. Maybe I need to dial back the chutzpah. I wouldn't want to accidentally take over the world.

Later: Oh dear Gods and Goddesses. I went through 'sent mail' and found that cover letter:

Hi, Your ad didn't say that you were looking for a pastry chef, but I'm not one to let things like that stop me. My last Chef told me that pastry skills would translate into pantry and prep, and I'm willing to test his theory. You'll see by looking at my resume that I don't have restaurant experience, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Look at it not as a lack of experience, but as a lack of bad habits to interfere with my doing things your way. Given that every job posted on Craigslist tend to get 100 or more applicants, it's likely that that my resume stands out only in terms of chutzpah. I'm okay with that; nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Oh my. Should I be worried that they called?

Here We Go!

2010-04-01T07:58:00.000-07:00

Today is the first day of Script Frenzy, and with even less planning than I did for Nanowrimo, I'm diving in. It's not too late to donate on my penniless behalf; you have the entire month of April to click here and support my insanity by supporting Script Frenzy. Join my friend Judy, who already donated so generously. Any amount, no matter how small, is welcome. They aren't proud, they just want to break even. Thanks for supporting my delusions of grandeur :)

I've been sick for about a week, and yesterday my friend Najah made me go to the clinic. She actually turned her car around and came to take me to the clinic. It turned out to be bronchitis. The amazing and lovely PA Marjie charged me only for the office visit; the nebulizer treatment, the inhaler, and two doses of prednisone she gave me for free. She said health care is too expensive and this is her way of balancing the scales. I really appreciated it. I also appreciated the prescription for narcotic cough syrup that let the whole household sleep through the night.

I'm starting to believe in the kindness of strangers.

Enough procrastinating. Time to meet or surpass today's quota of 3.3 pages of screenplay. And remember, you can donate to Script Frenzy here.

Not what I had planned

2010-03-30T15:26:00.000-07:00

The past few days have been wasted due to a wretched cold. I haven' t had the energy to do morning pages, edit the novel, plan the screenplay, work in the garden, experiment with gluten-free pastry, walk Puppy....nothing. It's driving me crazy, this enforced inactivity. Yesterday I managed to change the sheets, do the dishes and haul the trash and recycling to the curb. I had to rest between each task. Today I managed to take my books back to the library and walk around the backyard looking for signs of spring. Then it was back to the couch. I feel better than yesterday, but still nowhere near normal.

While I was outside, I noticed that the landscaping squirrels have struck again. There's a hyacinth coming up under the giant cauldron. This photo is from last summer.

The job I interviewed for at Z Cuisine has been posted on Craigslist, so I suppose that means I'm not what they wanted. Whole Foods went with someone else, but is keeping my resume for some jobs that might open up soon. The catering company wants someone with a full culinary skill set, but will keep me in mind for any pastry things that come up. I was not among 'the best qualified applicants' for a federal payroll assistant job. But at least they let me know. When I start feeling dejected, I think about the people in the WIA orientation that have been out of work for months and haven't gotten even one interview. At least I know I have a part-time job starting sometime in April, probably towards the end of the month. So, as Anjelica Houston says in her role as the Evil Stepmother in Ever After : "No matter how bad things are, we must never feel sorry for ourselves. Because things can always get so much worse".

Pride & Petulance

2010-03-20T10:30:00.000-07:00

I've entered the petulant phase of learning to live gluten-free. If I can't eat pastry, I don't want to make any. So there.
Unfortunately, I've already paid for a cake decorating class. But it's fun, and education is never a waste. Here is my little fondant covered cake. For some reason my camera objects to all shades of purple, so the ribbon looks more blue. It also looks a bit dried out, because 1) fondant mixed with gumpaste dries out very quickly even when tightly wrapped in plastic, and 2) I made the mixture on Tuesday and just got around to finishing the thing this morning. But you get the idea. The Wilton fondant is on the inexpensive end of the spectrum, and it tastes like sugary play-doh. There are better tasting fondants, but really, fondant is just an artistic medium. If it's flavor you want, go for the buttercream. By which I mean Italian, French or Swiss; not that nasty shortening based crap that Americans seem to prefer. Blechk!

After my ongoing struggles with the evil buttercream roses, this gumpaste fondant technique was a relief. Sure, it's time consuming, but the flowers are so much prettier. Delicate, fragile and most of all, flowerlike.

The next class is all royal icing flowers, which I quite like. Yes, it involves piping flowers, but royal icing is easier to work with than shortening buttercream. Tragically, that shortening based buttercream is the industry standard. I had an interview at University of Denver this week. (Do NOT want that job!) The pastry chef told me that she tried using Italian buttercream but the students won't eat it. I try not to be a food snob, but really. Preferring crisco and powdered sugar to meringue and real butter? That's just sad.

But that's not the reason I don't want them to offer me that job. The volume in that kitchen is insane, and the position is subject to seasonal layoffs. Meaning that every time the students are on break, most of the kitchen staff is too. No thanks.

Looking for a job is hard work, much harder than actually working. Several jobs I applied for but never heard from have been reposted. This hurts my pride. It reminds me of waiting to be chosen for teams in gym class or waiting to be asked to the homecoming dance. (I went to high school in the very early 80's. If it wasn't Sadie Hawkins Day, girls didn't do the asking).

I decided to take advantage of all the programs Jefferson County offers the unemployed. Which is how on Thursday afternoon I found myself sitting in what I've dubbed the 'therapy cave'. It's a small room with no windows to the outside, is dimly lit, has soft music with ocean sounds playing and has a very comfy loveseat for the client. And a candy dish full of chocolate. But most importantly, there's a wonderful therapist. I'm looking forward to the next nine weeks of working with her.

I've had to revise my opinion of government agencies over the last few weeks. Every person I've spoken with has been kind and helpful. Especially the people at the mental health service. While I didn't qualify for the free therapy (I'm not a danger to myself or others) I did qualify for a program that provides ten sessions at $5 dollars a visit. I can pay for the entire series with what's in my change jar. And did I mention that the therapist's office in in walking distance? Sweet. Next week I'll be checking into all the vocational services. Maybe I'll take advantage of the Pell Grants and go back to school. If I think of something worth going to school for....

That's the thing. I still don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life. Or even if I want a master plan for my life. I haven't had one so far, and things seem to be going okay. Not by society's standards maybe, but those standards don't fit me.

The bonfire of the novel seems to have had the desired effect; I'm back into editing, however slowly it might be going. I'm making notes for Script Frenzy and am getting the software figured out. It's really pretty cool. I may be wrong, but I think 100 pages of script is going to be much easier to do than 50,000 words. Script Frenzy starts on April Fool's Day. There may be a reason....

At this moment

2010-03-12T15:29:00.000-08:00

At this moment, I am pondering the absurdity of my situation. I have a part-time job starting in April. A job that will pay me less than I'm currently getting from unemployment. I could file every two weeks to get the difference, but I'm starting to ask myself "Why?" If working pays less than looking for work, why should I work? This is not my normal attitude.

Today I got to go to Free Writing Friday for the first time in about three years. Out of 11 people in the group, four of us recently lost our jobs. The three people who weren't me were pretty "Yippee! This is the best thing that could have happened!" about it. I'm not quite that enthused. It's taken me all this time to get to a place where I can see that it's ultimately a good thing, and that if I don't spend my energy panicking this could be a huge opportunity for creative growth.

It feels like the job search has been going on for a long time. Not really. My first interview was in the middle of February. It's only been about 4 weeks.

I'm 46 years old. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I seem to spend my life finding out what I don't want. I used to think I wanted my own pastry shop. I've learned that I don't. So all you people who keep telling me to start my own business - stop it. It's not going to happen. While I would go insane spending my day in a cubicle, I'm tired of being on my feet all day, hunching over a worktable, a counter, or a sink full of dishes. It may be selfish and petty, but now that I've accepted that gluten-free is the healthier option for me, I've lost interest in pastry. At least for now. And while I'd like to improve my cooking skills, I don't want to go to culinary school or work in a restaurant. See - more stuff I know I don't want.

Lost, confused, no idea where I'm going....what's a creative soul to do? Sign up for Script Frenzy, that's what. 100 pages of script in 30 days. This time, I'm taking notes as I go along (thanks for the tip, Jenn). Like NaNoWriMo, it's free to participate, but donations are greatly appreciated. In November, I was employed, and made a donation. This time....well, that's where you come in. Support my lunacy by making a donation in my name. Any amount will go a long way toward adding even more pressure to complete my 100 pages on time. Imagine my sense of shame if I failed to finish after your blatant show of support. When my inspiration and my OCD falter, the guilt will be there to bolster me up and keep me typing. You don't have to decide now. Donations are accepted through May 1st.

Gluten, Spring & Folly

2010-03-10T11:34:00.000-08:00

My soon-to-be employer (Better Than Mamma's Catering) asked me to research tasty gluten-free baked goods for the gluten-free meal plan. I got a few books from the library (a strong contender for happiest place on earth) and starting reading. I noticed that I have many of the symptoms of gluten intolerance. So I decided to take a break from gluten and see what happened.
I had cravings more intense than any I've ever had for chocolate. I was cranky and weepy. (Yes, there's the whole job search, financial anxiety and I-suck-as-a-novelist things going on, but it really escalated). It's been 7 days now, I feel lighter. 10 pounds lighter. My joint pain is considerably better. I have more energy. And my mood is much better. Huh.
A pastry chef who can't eat wheat. Alrighty then.

Spring is starting to appear. The robins are back, and the blue heron has returned to the park. The tulips and crocuses (crocii?) are poking up out of the ground. So are the weeds. Tenacious critters.
I want to start planting,but planting is another 6 weeks or so away. It may feel like spring, but there's another snowstorm or two lurking in the wings.

What I liked best about the Oscars this year was the people who spoke about the importance of creativity, how it is never a waste of time. That it doesn't matter what tools you use to tell the story, what matters is how you tell the tale and that you tell the tale. It inspires me to get back to my novel, and to try the Script Frenzy challenge. It starts, appropriately enough, on April 1st.
Anyone else want to step off the cliff into the unknown?

Big pink houses

2010-03-06T20:59:00.000-08:00

Friday I got an invitation to go along on a culinary walking tour of South Pearl Street. I parked in front of this house. It's for sale. Only $925,000. The first floor is a commercial space with a kitchen, the upstairs is residence. I've been inside, years ago. It used to be a metaphysical shop.

It's the kind of building that fuels my fantasy of having my own business, or a shared business. Imagine looking through that window and seeing pastries and chocolates, friends catching up over coffee and cake while waiting for their tarot reading. Sweet Disposition Cafe & Miss Najah's Hoodoo Emporium. Or something like that. Victorian charm, lots of foot traffic,

great little neighborhood. Great, extremely expensive little neighborhood. It's a good thing I don't really want my own business.

The tour took us to four places, three of which I really liked. Pajama Baking Company, Kaos Pizzeria, and The Village Cork - all three venues treated us really well. Pajama Baking Company and The Village Cork do lots of local sourcing for ingredients. Kaos imports many of their ingredients, including the flour, from Italy. Kaos and Pajama Baking Company have lovely shiny equipment; giant mixers, steam injecting ovens, massive walk-in, ice cream maker, blast freezer and the awesomely huge imported pizza oven. Over at The Village Cork, Chef Samir makes do with a small convection oven and a few tabletop burners. His kitchen isn't just open, it's surrounded on two sides by bar seating. Fortunately,he's outgoing and very passionate and enthusiastic about his work; he's on stage all night long.

He gets chicken from a freerange farm up in Boulder. He was describing how the chickens are slaughtered one by one, so that they don't know what's coming, and that classical music is playing during the process. All I could think of was the end of Soylent Green, when the old man goes to the assisted suicide center and watches a film of forests and deer and meadows while listening to Beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Grieg. And that episode of South Park in which Timmy's beloved turkey Gobbles escapes death. I might have missed a bit of what Chef Samir was saying right about then. Sometimes my mind wanders.

All three people were so passionate about their craft; I miss being passionate. I've lost all my passion; my novel, pastry, life in general...I have minimal to no enthusiasm for any of it. I've been here before. I know it won't last. But while it's going on I have to force myself to keep moving. Puppy really helps with this; she's quite pleased with my joblessness. She gets to go to the park everyday. Small achievements help: walking puppy, doing laundry, meeting the jobsearch quota, practing piping techniques. Any small, tangible thing that gives a sense, however delusional, of productivity and control.

I got the notice of tradename renewal in the mail. I registered Sweet Disposition a few years ago, just in case. I'm not sure I want to renew it; I'm not sure I'll ever use it. I might just let it go. I'm not sure. I'll just add that to the expanding pile of things I'm not sure about. That pile just keeps getting bigger.

Saved by the Ringtone

2010-03-02T08:15:00.000-08:00

In a perfect world, the very last day of a much-loved job wouldn't coincide with the full moon. My normal stoicism has disintegrated into a rather weepy mess. But it's a bright sunny day, so Puppy and I will be going for a walk later. Let the endorphin production begin!

I was going through craigslist last night and saw an ad from my chiropractor. He needs an office manager. I was thinking about applying. I even adapted my resume to include relevant experience. The hours are good, no weekends, profit sharing, probably free adjustments, Dr. Kerry is a lovely man and would probably be a good boss. There's no reason not to apply. Except that he's asking for a two year commitment. And while the rational part of my brain thinks a change would do me good, the rest of my brain is screaming with boredom at the very idea of paperwork and office routines and wearing scrubs.

I was debating whether or not to get myself together to go drop off my resume when my phone rang. It was Oana, who'd interviewed me for a catering company a couple of weeks ago. The person who'd singled me out of hundreds of resumes because I was the only pastry person to apply. (Thanks for recommending audacity, Will!). She was calling to let me know that they are on track to open around the first of April, that she's looking forward to working with me, that she can be very flexible with my hours (20 a week to start), that she hopes to have me full-time very shortly, and would I be willing to research gluten-free baking for her gluten-free meal plan.
Sure. No problem. Thank you, Oana. And thank you Universe, for an outstanding display of timely intervention. I feel quite encouraged.

Cupcakes, Unemployment & Huge Tracts of Land

2010-02-27T16:07:00.000-08:00

If I'd followed the example of my great-aunt Kitty, I'd be a well-to-do widow having a fling with the young man next door right about now. The opportunity to marry at all, let alone well, hasn't presented itself. At this point, it seems unlikely that it ever will. I don't seem to be made for that.

There are moments, especially now that I'm unemployed, that marriage sounds like a reasonable idea. I notice that I have the old-fashioned idea of marriage, the idea of marriage as an economic arrangement. The 'yes, she's plain and old, but she has huge tracts of land. ' and 'yes, he's surly, but he has 10,000 a year and owns half of Derbyshire' idea of marriage.This doesn't bode well for my prospects, as I am a dowerless spinster with no connections to recommend me.

I had a working interview this week. Another rendition of 'you're great, it's just not the right fit for you'. I'm beginning to wonder if there is a 'right fit'. Yes, I know it's only been three weeks that I've been looking, and I know that I am at least getting interviews. It's just that sometimes the powerlessness and lack of control really gets overwhelmingly depressing. I had no control over losing my job. I have no control over what jobs are available. I have no control over who calls me for an interview. I have no control over who offers me a job. I hate this. I have no say over a major part of my life and I absolutely hate it. (What's that? Control freak? Moi!? Don't be silly!)

I signed up for Wilton Cake Decorating 3 - fondant, gumpaste, stringwork, tiered cakes. More skills can only help, and class and homework will give me a bit of structure and an illusion of control.

I've been amusing myself by translating cocktails, truffles and classic pastries into cupcakes. It's still in the mental stage, but creative problem solving makes me feel better.

My novel.....bleh. I haven't had the will or the desire to look at it for the last few weeks. Yesterday I spent a couple of hours with it. It's complete and utter crap. It seems very unlikely that I'll have it even remotely readable in time for the June deadline. Do I want this dreck bound into a free paperback book? I don't think so . I might put the hard copy in a bonfire; it sure as hell isn't going into recycling. It might as well be useful. And fire is pretty.

Well-meaning people keep telling me to start my own business. I wish they'd stop. I'm not made for that either.

Rambling as Usual

2010-02-20T08:43:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for your art, which is how I found myself at Best Buy in search of a printer that would take photo paper and business card stock, something my little hand-me-down printer refused to do. I found a pretty awesome multi-function printer that was $30 off the regular price. Score. It installed easily, which was even more awesome.

So, newly updated portfolio in hand, I went off the the precipitating cause of this purchase. The ad for this place required that applicants come down to the shop, resume and portfolio in hand. I met the owner, and got the welcome news that of all the applicants, I am the only one who isn't currently in school. That means I am the only one with unlimited availability. Hopefully I'll be going in next week for a trial day.

It's a cool, funky little place. They were in the middle of making 2000 mini cupcakes for Artopia.
The dress code is an apron over whatever clothes one feels like wearing. I realized that I really like that idea. I have never been comfortable in a chef's jacket. Or jackets in general. I feel stifled and confined in a jacket. A fleece hoodie, on the other hand: perfect.

So upscale restaurant kitchens are not an option; I don't want to go through life feeling stifled. I want to wear people clothes and an apron. An apron with a Jolly Rodger on it, a Jolly Rodger comprised of an eye-patch-wearing cupcake with a whisk and a rolling pin crossed underneath. At heart, I seem to be a bakeshop girl. And that's ok.

And now, off to decide on a cake and bake it. And maybe have some breakfast.

Numbers Game

2010-02-17T20:08:00.000-08:00

The average job posting on craigslist gets hundreds of responses. The poop scoop company turned off their ad at 125 responses. The little bakeshop got over 200. The funeral/cremation company my sister works for usually gets about 500. Out of those numbers, the employer picks 10, 20, 30 or so people they want to interview.

Out of the roughly 30 ads I've responded to, 7 employers contacted me for an interview or to come in and fill out an application. That's about a 23% success rate. Not bad, all things considered.

I'm also learning about what just isn't worth it. Like the deranged pet sitter service owner, who went off on a tirade about trying to rescue some pit bulls, and then explained that she didn't have employees, she had contract workers, and so you'd pay your own taxes, do your own advertising and pay her a cut. For what, exactly?

Also not worth it - a baking job that starts at 4am, and involves being the baker, the burrito maker, coffee pourer and counter help from 7am to noon, when the relief person comes in. Eventually the owner plans to have 2 people at all times, but that time is not yet. Also the radio was playing praise music while the flatscreen tv was blaring Fox News. Probably not the best fit...

This evening I got a call from a new catering company. I'm interviewing there tomorrow morning. And an email from a cafe that's interviewing on Friday. I don't think that cafe would work; they are looking primarily for a cook. But I sent them my resume, and they invited me for an interview. Kind of makes me wonder if they read my resume. But I'll go, if only for practice.

Tiny Bubbles

2010-02-14T09:02:00.000-08:00

The weather report from NOAA predicted about an inch of snow for today. Our little microclimate seems to have missed the memo, as so far we have about four inches and the snow is still coming down. I wouldn't care if I didn't have to go out later. I'm going down to the shop to have a toast to the end of Wen Chocolates in Denver. We've been saving a bottle of really good champagne (a Veuve Cliquot I think) for a special occasion. Granted, closing the shop and kitchen isn't quite the occasion we'd envisioned, but Veuve Cliquot does lend a mad dash of frivolity to the wake.
I'm curious to try the champagne; it's on the pricey end. My taste buds are usually happy with the $10-20 dollar range. As John Cleese says, if you like it, it's good wine. My new favorite in the sparkling category is Astoria Sweet Lounge, a blend of proseco and muscatel. I confess. I bought it for the pretty label, but it turned out to be delightful, and it goes very well with chocolate.
A positive note, I won the monthly giveaway at Octoberfarm, one of my favorite blogs. A set of antique pressed-glass dishes. Lovely way to start off the Year of the Metal Tiger. Thanks, Jaz.
Between the closing and the flu, I haven't had the energy to keep up with everyone's blogs and postings. I apologize. I'll get back to it eventually. Right now, I need some breakfast and some Dayquil.

Pet Therapy & Whatever

2010-02-06T10:46:00.000-08:00

This is Kitty's new favorite spot; as soon as I sit down at the computer, there he is. It's a new

behavior that started right about the time I knew for certain that I was going to be out of work. It's becoming more and more frequent; anytime I sit down, there he is. If I leave the bedroom door open at night, I wake to find myself squished between Kitty and Puppy. It's very sweet, in a smothering sort of way.

I've had one phone interview so far, out of I don't know how many applications. I didn't get a callback for the group interview. It was for the edibles division of a medical marijuana company. I'm thinking that my lack of drug use counted against me. I have all the skills they needed, I just don't use pot. It triggers a nearly suicidal depression in me, so I don't use it. No 'just say no' anti-drug stuff going on, I just react badly so it's not the thing for me. That should have made me an attractive prospect and a natural for inventory control, but no. The interviewer told me that they'd winnowed over a hundred resumes down to about 40 'awesome' candidates. After a phone interview, about 16 or so would be invited to the group interview and from that about 10 people would be hired. It seems I was not awesome enough.

Bevin told me that the last time her company posted a job on Craigslist they got about 700 responses. That doesn't cheer me up. Unless her boss needs someone to go through resumes...

I couldn't do Bevin's job (she's a funeral director). After 7 years in hospice care and 7 years in an animal shelter I can't do any more caretaking emotional trauma type jobs. I just can't.

I don't know what I want to do next. Something that pays well enough, that's interesting enough to keep me motivated, something that doesn't suck up all my energy so that I have nothing left for the things I really enjoy. The things that make life worth living but don't provide a living wage.

It's gloomy and gray and chilly. I should take Puppy to the park, but I don't feel like going. If it were sunny, it would seem warm enough, but under a cloudy sky it just feels cold and damp. Bleh. We're in between sun and snow. Everything is in between right now, the weather, jobs, me... Everything is in flux, waiting for whatever comes next.

Imbolc 2010: The Adventure Begins

2010-02-02T20:13:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, the Powers That Be take things a bit too literally.

Imbolc is about inspiration, fire, the awakening of seeds slumbering in the earth,

rebirth and new beginnings. So, what happens? I lose my job.

This is not quite the new beginning I would have chosen. But here it is, and it must be dealt with, no matter how much I might want to take to my bed with a bottle of bourbon and a good supply of snacks.

There's grieving and depression going on, and it would be easy to slide into a dark well and stay there. Fortunately, one of my personalities is a planner with a passion for averting disaster. I've already enlisted friends to check in with me to make sure I'm attending to basic functions like showering, walking Puppy and posting on Facebook. I have activities scheduled to make sure I get out of the house for something besides job hunting.

I have a list of upcoming free days at the zoo, the art museum and the musuem of nature and science. I have my Nano group every other week. And finally, after a nearly three year absence, I'll be able to go to Free writing Fridays. Thanks to Bevin giving me a gift card to the rec center, I can keep going to NIA; I'm addicted. I was in a pit of despair Monday night, but after class I was on a natural high.

I've known the end was coming for a few weeks. The sense of impending doom has made it very difficult to concentrate on ...well, on anything really. I haven't been sleeping well, I have a hard time being still. My novel has been terribly neglected. Now that the closing is out in the open, I can relax and stop putting so much energy into keeping my mouth shut. It's been really hard; I don't like to keep pain to myself. I like to spread it around...

I don't know what I want to do next. I've applied for some very random things. I have no idea what is going to happen over the next year as far as jobs go. My planner self is not happy, my wandering gypsy self is thrilled, everyone else is somewhere in the middle.

I'm trying to frame this whole thing in a positive way. "It's not unemployment - it's a stay-cation! Yeah!" It works for a few seconds.

After the Imbolc circle on Saturday night, I went home to bed. After a night of intensely vivid dreams, I woke up with this first thought "My name doesn't fit anymore". This happens about every 7 years or so, usually when there's a significant shift in some part of my life or personality.

So here I am, at Imbolc, with no job, no idea what I'm going to do, and my name doesn't fit. And that's ok. Somehow, it will all come out right, even though I don't know how.

Imbolc is also about hope, hope that the spring will return, the seeds will awaken, and that life will be renewed.

When the chocolate smites you

2010-01-26T15:51:00.000-08:00

There are days when Theobroma (Goddess of Chocolate) and I get along just fine. This was not that day. It 's cold, snow is approaching, and my energy level is just this side of a black hole. She let the chocolate be in temper just long enough to dip one tray of truffles and then she smote it. It went all streaky and swirly. So much for that batch. I had to stop. I turned up the heat to let the chocolate relax and moved on to other things.

As I washed about a hundred Valentine's themed chocolate molds, I realized that there was nothing urgent that needed to be done in chocolate today. With a sigh of relief, I put the chocolate away.

On to the mis en place. The literal translation: 'everything in place'; it refers to the ingredients and tools needed for a recipe, and it also refers to staples, such as tart dough, pastry cream, toppings, fillings and so on.

I love doing mis en place. It's satisfying, it's productive, and it tends to go very well. Today it was outstanding. 4 perfect batches of tart dough, toasted coconut for garnishing one truffle, candied lemon and lime zest for garnishing another, and an outstanding batch of secret recipe cake syrup. My mood improved; less of a black hole, more of a nebula.

We're trying a new tart this week, and putting a spin on two old ones. Because we get bored. The new tart is called Winter Fruit Tart - it uses dried fruit plumped in booze. (Which reminds me, there's an episode of Spine Chillers called Fruitcake of the Living Dead - it's hilarious). The recipe, from Witch in the Kitchen, calls for soaking the fruit for at least 15 minutes. Mine is soaking for about 48 hours, in a blend of secret recipe cake syrup and blackstrap rum.

There may be a more demanding culinary goddess than Theobroma. I imagine Sucrosia, goddess of sugar showpieces is also very difficult. After that incident involving Jolly Ranchers and a microwave, I'm not inclined toward that path.

My path is a three-fold one: doughs, batters and custards. All the things I love to make come from this trinity: bread, croissants, pie, cake, cookies, ice cream, scones, cream puffs.... Yes, I noticed that too. Chocolate is not on the short list. She's not first with me, but to be fair, I'm not her favorite in the kitchen either. Unlike Patisseria (Triple Goddess of Pastry). She loves me.

I have to confess, my favorite way to eat chocolate is not in truffle form. Not in a complicated dessert. Not in cake, not mousse, not ice cream. My favorite way to eat chocolate is - right out of the bag. A few buttons of Guittard or Felchin, a glass of something sparkling like Rosa Regale or Sweet Astoria Lounge....ah. Bliss. My second favorite: with bread, unsalted butter and a light sprinkling of salt. Preferably sourdough, but croissant or brioche is okay too. When the chocolate is really good, there's no need to get fancy.

More Procrastination

2010-01-23T12:46:00.000-08:00

Sitting in Cafe 13 for Nanowrimo editing group. I look up from my giant cup (more like a soup bowl) of coffee and see a photo of a castle in Slovenia. I realize I am analyzing the photo not in terms of composition or lighting, but in terms of how defensible the castle is and where would be the best place to launch an attack. There are some good spots for dumping boiling oil; almost a straight shot down the castle wall.

At the same time, I'm wondering what kind of pie to make to celebrate National Pie day. I'm thinking maybe some sort of cream pie, maybe dark chocolate or banana. I'm not really in the mood for a fruit pie. Or maybe a Normandy apple tart, although I'm not sure that really lives up to the spirit of National Pie day.

Comedy, love, and a bit with a dog

2010-01-18T19:58:00.000-08:00

The dreaded task of outlining the novel has begun. Normal writers outline before they start writing. Of course this requires actually having plot ahead of time. Not one to be stymied by such trifles, I simply started writing, and continued until I reached a point where 'the end' seemed to fit.
Yesterday, I managed to apply 'who and what' to three whole pages. Once the chapter and scene notes are made in the margins, they'll be transferred to index cards for 'easier' outlining and rewriting. Uh huh.
Today went like this:
I sit down to work.
I stare at the giant stack of paper and sigh.
Page 3 - I remember I still have pralines that Bevin brought back from New Orleans.
I cheer up, and start making notes.
Page 7 - I am out of pralines.
Page 19 - it suddenly occurs to me that the spice cabinet is disorganized and needs to be straightened at once. No. No it doesn't, I tell myself.
Page 34 - I start thinking about Avatar and how I'd like to get Na'vi citizenship and that there were qualities in the film that inspire parts of the novel. I wonder if James Cameron would direct the movie version. I remind myself that the book has to be written before we move on to its afterlife.
Page 53 - it suddenly becomes very important to know exactly how many days the novel has been in existence. I stop channelling Rainman and get back to work.
Page 77 - my dog pushes her nose into my leg and looks pathetic. I get up to let her outside. She stands in the doorway, looks around and comes back inside.
Page 89 - I realize that I might make it to page 100 before I go to class.
Page 90 - I remember Joseph Fiennes's inkstained fingers in Shakespeare in Love. I think that right now, my novel is in about the same place as Romeo and Ethel the Pirate's Daughter: barely written and subject to drastic changes.
Page 101 - I decide it's a good time to stop, as it's about time to go to class. I look at my giant wreck of a manuscript, all disjointed and chaotic, full of dreck and bad grammar and plot holes and the cries of voices demanding that their stories be told. For reasons I can't comprehend, I love this montrous creation.
I have no idea how this is going to come together. I console myself with the following words of widsom, loosely adapted from Shakespeare in Love:

Novel writing's natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster.
So what do we do?
Nothing. Strangely enough, it all ends well.
How ?
I don't know. It's a mystery.

79. That's how many.

Of maps and muses

2010-01-15T15:51:00.000-08:00

I really should get up and turn on the light, but the cat is curled up behind the screen, peacefully sleeping on my legs. It's almost 5pm, there's still a bit of light left in the sky.

I have run into a wall of procrastination with editing my novel. Without the looming spectre of a ridiculous deadline it's hard to get any momentum going. Editing is a slow, deliberate process, unlike writing, which frequently happened in frenzied bursts in which characters drove the plot according to their own needs and desires.

They aren't as communicative right now, although brief moments of inspiration have appeared here and there, leaving a paper trail through morning pages, pocket notebook, virtual and real posty-notes, day planner and a scrap of baking parchment.

I'm breaking this down into smaller chunks this weekend. Step one, assemble the cast of characters: names, appearance, family, traits, and so on. Hopefully this will clear up glitches; the other day I noticed two characters had the same name.

Step two-map out the timeline of the story. It's rather muddled at this point. No wonder one character's age keeps fluctuating; he's as lost as I am.

Starting with plot and character outlines would have been sensible. That would have required starting with a plot, something I didn't have when I decided to do NaNoWriMo. I started with only a couple of characters who'd been trapped in my head for years, and a muddled thought process sparked by a friend's remark when I had a close encounter with an elk at the Estes Park Visitors Center. I signed up only a few days before the event began, and while I knew about outlines and plotting with posty-notes and string, I chose not to do that. If I had, I would have gotten so obsessed with organizing and reorganizing and color coding that I wouldn't have written a word.

I dove into the novel in true free writing style: just keep going and see where it takes you. The characters appeared, doing their own thing, driving the story, and sometimes going off in rather alarming directions. The plot started taking shape at about 30,000 words in. I finally saw where it was headed and was able to make an outline.

There's still so much I don't know about this world I created. Like..what it's called. Or how swords and sorcery coexist with high tech gadgets and high speed hovercrafts. Hopefully that will all clear up somewhere in the process.

I intend to have a readable version in time for the Createspace deadline for a free printed book. That's June. So, logically, working backward, break the task down into small manageable goals and proceed in an orderly direction. Somehow, I doubt that's how it's going to go. The process will likely be messy and chaotic, passionate bursts of creativity alternating with the slow plodding of mapping the trail and filling in plot holes.

I have two tasks for this weekend, but somehow I am struck with the need to do other things, any things, rather than recommit to this work. I think I am having to give up that fantasy about what being a writer is, the fantasy that one sits down and magnificent words roll out, all ready to be published into a prizewinning novel. No. That's not what being a writer is. Being a writer means showing up at the page and doing the work, for the sake of the work.

I read the following this morning here; it's worth posting somewhere I'll see it everyday.
"I was here. Where were you? signed, your Muse".

Mislaid Plans

2010-01-09T17:48:00.000-08:00

I had plans for tonight, free tickets for a burlesque show. But the friend going with me had to cancel, and everyone else I called had plans already. I wasn't brave enough to go by myself. Not brave enough to sit alone at a show, not brave enough to navigate the unfamiliar streets of downtown in the dark, not brave enough to walk through an unattended parking garage and dark streets by myself. I'm not as far along as I thought.

I spent nearly two weeks on Maui by myself, alone in the midst of vacationing families, couples and honeymooners. There were moments of self-pitying meltdown, but many more moments of doing adventurous things like snorkeling, surfing, hiking, dining alone in nice restaurants and going to shows. Maybe it was the sun, or the sea or the fact that I was paying for everything, so I was determined to get out and enjoy it.

The tickets for tonight's show were free, so I don't feel so bad for not using them. It was easy to tell myself that it's cold and dark and I'd rather just stay in and get some work done, work I didn't get done during the fun but woefully unproductive editing session this morning. No one else got much done either; it was our first meeting since the End-of-Nanowrimo 2009 celebration in early December.

I could spend this evening finishing up Chapter 9. The exercise on creative u-turns is partially finished. I stopped at the part that asks if any abandoned dreams or desires can be resurrected. I watched part of a show about the Smithsonian; it was called Superlatives. One segment was about the musical instrument collection. There were two cellos, one rented from a music school, the other...a cello made nearly 300 years ago by Antonio Stradivari. The music school cello was played first. It sounded fine enough. Then the Stradivarius. Oh. My. Rich and resonant, even through the television. It brought back a long buried desire.

When I was a child, I wanted to learn to play the cello. My parents told me I had to learn piano first. The piano and I are natural enemies. It didn't work out. I never got to play cello.
When my much younger sister decided she wanted to play cello, my parents said yes. She didn't have to learn piano first. I'm not sure why the different treatment, whether money was a factor and we already had a piano and a cello had to be rented, whether my parents had learned that love for an instrument can't be forced, or whether by their third child they were just worn out and didn't want to argue the point.

What I do know is that all these years later, I'm still surprisingly bitter about being denied what I really wanted. I did try learning violin a few years ago, but my inner critic and perfectionist made it a miserable experience. Now that I'm learning to loosen their pernicious grip, now that I'm learning to allow myself to be a beginner, to allow myself to suck, maybe I could try learning cello without the expectation of being perfect or knowing how to play before I learn how. Maybe I can approach it with beginner's mind.

My friend Najah is studying Tai Chi. The instructor tells students "Learn to invest in loss". I think this means accepting that we will never be perfect, that nothing will ever be mastered, but that knowing this we still show up in the class, at the laptop, the pen & paper, the kitchen, the instrument, the relationship, wherever, whatever, and in that moment, with beginner's mind we do our best.

Mostly Productive Avoidance

2010-01-07T22:55:00.001-08:00

I am far enough into vacation now that I am reverting back to my night owl nature. It's 11:54 pm, and I'm still up. I finished and posted an article around 10:30. I figured out how to use the collage feature on Picnik. I wrote an entry on my other blog. Now I'm here, writing this one.

I go back to work on Monday. Just when my body gets used to staying up late and sleeping in until 7 or 7:30, it will be time to go back to getting up at 4:45. I don't mind it so much in the summer; in the dark and cold of winter it's not so easy.

A disinclination to delve into the dreadful Chapter 9 and a sense of horror from watching Messiest Home in America 3 caused me to do some serious purging of clutter. Then I rearranged furniture in my room and the family room. I packed up some books and some other things I know I'll never use for ARC or Goodwill. Played Vampire Wars (that's my vampire avatar over there in the moonlit forest). It's my only Facebook game. Made pate brisee. Made quiche and an almond cream tart.

It's easy to distract myself from The Artist's Way or editing or writing when I'm at home. There are always chores to do or a dog to play with or a cat to stop from destroying the house....

Starting tomorrow though, I'll be house sitting for Chef. No chores, no work, nothing to do but work on those projects I've been avoiding. I have a NaNoWriMo group Saturday morning. Last time, it was just Jenny and myself. We got no work done. Hopefully, we'll be a bit more focused this time, and more people will show up. The ones who know how to edit.

In an effort to keep working on my GESD ( a practical degree 2 Facebook friends came up with - Get Epic Sh*t Done) I joined a pagan meet-up group and will be going to a open ritual and potluck. With strangers. That should be worth at least a couple of credit hours.

Synchronicity, Changes & Whatever Comes After

2010-01-05T20:07:00.001-08:00

I was reading Chapter 9 of The Artist's Way today. Recovering A Sense of Compassion. I'm going to hate working this chapter, I can tell.

At some point, we must make an active choice to relinquish the joys and privileges accorded to the emotional invalid. A productive artist is quite often a happy person. This can be very threatening as a self-concept to those who are used to getting their needs met by being unhappy.

I am really not liking the realization of how much that paragraph applies to me. It's quite shaming, which I suppose is where the sense of compassion is supposed to come in. People who are farther along in the course assure me that yes, Chapter 9 is painful. This is the point in the course where many people quit, or want to quit. I won't quit.

The artist's way website was shut down shortly before Christmas. I really miss it - the forums were a great source of support and camaraderie. This morning, I found a Yahoo group, run by a NaNoWriMo buddy I met through the forums. This afternoon, another friend from the website tracked me down through my column and Facebook. That synchronicity concept is working overtime this week.

Aside from being reunited with my Artist's Way posse, synchronicity has been showing up a lot. I've been wanting to study tarot. I finally found a deck that really resonates with me. The shop where I bought it (with Christmas money) had a flyer for a tarot class taught by the most amazing reader I've ever been to, at a time I can get to, at a shop five minutes from home. Paid for by Christmas bonus from work.

I was struggling with my Target hula hoop. It's not entirely round, and is too small for an adult. A friend connected me with a hoop maker, who is making me a weighted hoop that's big enough for my height. I found an instructional dvd at the library. Yes, there are instructional dvds for hoop dance. Lots of websites. And local groups where I can play and learn.

I finally got it together last night to try NIA at the rec center. I walked in on the night the class was free of charge. It was great. I'll be doing this instead of Ai Chi for the duration of the winter. I can't stand being cold and wet.

Last month, on a whim, I put my business card into a drawing at Lanni's Clocktower Cabaret. Tonight I got an email that I won two free tickets for Fannie Spankin's Western Rockabilly Burlesque Show. Awesome. I've been wanting to get out more.

So, in the spirit of all that's going on in my life, I don't think Lost in Place works anymore. I don't want to be lost in place; it's time to wander strange lands and see what's out there.

Things I tried in 2009

2010-01-02T17:15:00.000-08:00

I was going through my 2009 calendar looking for birthdays and suchlike to transcribe into my much prettier 2010 date book. I found entries for events I'd forgotten about, even though they were all things I did for the first time. In chronological order, they are:

My first pagan festival. I'd do this again.
My first time trying shrooms and pot. Bleh on both counts. I'll stick with alcohol and chocolate.
My first two concerts at Red Rocks. SO doing this again. Where else could one walk through a meadow full of deer and then dance the night away to K'nan and Jason Mraz?
My first spiritual fast, for Yom Kippur. Yes, I'm a pagan, but it felt like something I needed to do. I might do this again.
My first foray into novel writing. I will absolutely do this again. Depending on how the editing process is coming along, I may do Script Frenzy this April.

New Year's Eve Ramblings

2009-12-31T07:54:00.000-08:00

I have never quite understood the hoopla of New Year's Eve. The date seems rather arbitrary for one thing. It would make more sense to have it at Winter Solstice. The days are as dark as they're going to get, the light is beginning to lengthen. Or perhaps the Vernal Equinox would be a good time to start the New Year. At least in the Northern Hemisphere. The Southern Hemisphere is opposite, so the Solstice/Equinox system wouldn't make any more sense than January 1st.

Making pious resolutions while celebrating by getting very very drunk doesn't make much sense either. Starting off the new year with a hangover? No, thank you.

I don't remember the last time I stayed up to count down the last minutes of the old year. I'm an adult; I go to bed whenever I want, so staying up to midnight is not a thrill. No matter how late I stay up, I wake up around 5am. That really takes the glamour and fun out of late nights.

I started The Artist's Way last fall. If I had done one chapter a week, as the book suggests, I'd be done now. But some chapters have taken two weeks, chapter 7....I think I might be in the third week. Nanowrimo and holiday production took a toll, and then I went and added writing for Examiner.com to the mix. So, I'm a bit behind. But the process has already caused significant changes to my life. I would not have jumped into writing a novel without it. I would probably not be writing at all without it.

I remember wanting to be a writer more than anything, from the time I was very young. So why did I spend so much of my life not writing? Because I have a terrible case of perfectionism. There are no telethons for perfectionism, no medications. Just a lot of soul crushing, time wasting, vicious self-criticism that kills the creative spark before it has a chance to become more than a faint ember.

The Artist's Way and NaNoWriMo probably saved my creative life. "Exuberant imperfection" is the credo of Nanowrimo. Being given written permission to suck was liberating. The willingness to be bad at something is infectious; it's spilling over to other areas of my life.

I have no idea what to expect from 2010. Not having expectations is probably a good thing. I do have some plans, but nothing set in stone.

edit novel into a decent read by May 1st, so that I can take advantage of CreateSpace.com's free printing offer.
set up a schedule with my accountabilibuddies to make sure I edit novel into a decent read by May 1st
write enough articles for Examiner.com to get paid at least once in 2010. (at 1 cent per page view with a $25 minimum for payout, it's going to take a while. Writing is more about the love than the money).
use the recreation center gift card Bevin gave me to finally take a fencing class, something I've wanted to do for years.
find a balance between writing posture (butt glued to chair) and life-in-general posture (butt up and moving).

So here's to 2010 - the Year of Exuberant Imperfection. May we all find the courage to follow our hearts and dreams, no matter how silly we may look along the way.

Holiday Madness 2009

2009-12-15T19:59:00.000-08:00

I really miss NaNoWriMo; that adrenaline-fueled rush to the deadline was exhilirating. Even if I somehow stressed myself to the point of getting shingles (which was not even close to being entirely NaNo's fault) it was worth it just to pass that goal and reach "THE END". Now begins the months of editing. I entered a drawing for a free spot in an online editing workshop. Cross your fingers for me.

While perusing Craigslist for a part-time job, I came across an ad for writers for an online paper called The Examiner . I applied for the position of Dessert Examiner, and pending the outcome of the criminal background check, I have the job. Although it may be called Baking Examiner instead. I think Dessert Examiner is sexier. The pay is minscule, but it's a start. As soon as I'm approved and my page is active, I'll post it all over the place. The more readers I have, the more I get paid, so......hint, hint. The really cool part (aside from being paid to write) is that I can write about whatever I want, so long as it falls within my category.

The kitchen is very busy (it's that time of year) but thanks to my wonderful assistants and the two tempering machines, there have been no meltdowns. It's going very well. Knock wood. I am rather disappointed that Chef has decided not to do Buche de Noels this year. Oh well, I have guests coming for dinner on Solstice, so I'll make Buche de Solstice. It's a skill every pastry person should practice at least once a year.

Last night we had a laidback Chanukah dinner with roast chicken, latkes and pound cake with whipped cream and drunken strawberries. Our guest is half Jewish, and we haven't seen her in a long time, so we had the Chanukah part of SolstiChrismakah. I don't think we'd seen Kendall since her mom's funeral a couple of years ago. Our moms, Annyce and Mira, were really good friends. It's weird to think think that if I had made different bad choices, I could have had a child Kendall's age now. She's 24.

I'm a bit shocked to realize that I'm 46. I don't feel anything like my concept of what 46 should be. So, clearly the sane thing is to throw out any preconceived or socialized ideas of what 'acting my age' should be, and just be who I am. It's not as if I can be someone else anyway.

Saturday night I've been invited to a Solstice party with mummers. I have no idea what to expect. It's a potluck, so I'm probably going to be reckless and try a recipe I've never used before: Cranberry Macarons.

On the actual day of Solstice I will be up well before sunrise for the annual Drumming Up The Sun at Red Rocks Amphitheater. Followed by the traditional breakfast at Sunrise Sunset. Vegetarian Benedict and coffee is probably not how my Celtic forbears celebrated the Solstice, but you have to adapt.
Then my friend Judy is coming for Solstice dinner. That same night. There's going to be work in between. Hello, crockpot my old friend......

Christmas - the traditional hanging out in pajamas until it's time to go to the movies. This year - Sherlock Holmes, with the oh-so-attractive Robert Downey Jr. Sigh.

The "Prize"

2009-11-24T18:00:00.000-08:00

I did it!

2009-11-22T21:36:00.001-08:00

I not only reached the goal of 50K words, I exceeded the goal. Probably due in no small part to the numerous repetitions of 'flying vampire monkey demons' in the 'flying vampire monkey demons attack the elementary school during recess' chapter. I'm hoping to come up with a better name for them during the editing process.
I have a personal goal of 75,000 words (25,000 words in 8 days, 4 of which are days off from work. I can do it!) I still have an ambush, a desperate duel, a destiny revealed and a Conjuration of Doom to get through. Not to mention a tidy wrap up that lays the ground for a possible sequel. Right now though, I will take my victorious self to bed. 5am won't come any later just because I HAVE WRITTEN MY FIRST NOVEL!!!!!

Stalled at 41,348 words

2009-11-20T19:22:00.000-08:00

I don't know what comes next. I have an awful feeling that I have 40,000 plus words of back story. Oh well. The plot has given hints of making an appearance, it's gotten very dark, and is demanding additional sacrifices (in addition to sleep, sanity, and several not so important characters). One of my favorite characters is probably going to die so that another character can reach his destiny. Sucks to be a supporting player, doesn't it.

I was going to go to a cafe with my shiny new laptop, which now sports a NaNoWriMo sticker (from Monday's write-a-thon at Valhalla's. I also won two tiny tubs of playdoh and some coffee in the word wars). Instead I came home to do my exciting Friday night routine of laundry, cleaning, and bill paying. Virtuous procrastination, that' s the ticket.

Tomorrow I will go to the weekly write-in at Borders. The NaNoites take over the cafe for a few hours every Saturday in November. I have fallen in with the sci-fi/fantasy, Goth, RenFaire, role playing, pagan liberal writers. Really cheerful Goths - must be some kind of sub-sub-culture.

The point of word wars is to write as much as possible in an allotted time span - usually 10-15 minutes. If you want to win, you can't stop to correct, so I spent as much time after the word wars going back to fix all the typos as I did in the word war itself. They're still fun though.

I completely forgot to do Chapter 6 in the Artist's Way this week - I may try again on Sunday, or I may wait until the end of the month, when NaNoWriMo is over. Once it's done, I 'll have a few months of normal until Script Frenzy starts in April.

Where have I been?

2009-11-12T20:53:00.000-08:00

Let's see, first there was week 4 of the Artist's Way, which involved reading deprivation; no books, magazines, email or internet. Or tv or radio with words. It was great - it's amazing how much more time there is when you aren't being sucked into a vortex of other people's words and images. Week 4 ended up being about 10 days long, I don't remember why...oh, right. Lots of Halloween festivities.
I've kept it up pretty much; no TV except for Project Runway, maybe Robot Chicken once in a while. Not a whole lot of reading going on yet.

I haven't transferred my photos over to my new laptop (I love it! Acer Aspire 5532) yet, so I don't have pictures of my Halloween costume for you. I'll get them up eventually. I made an absolutely fabulous hat, and discovered a previously unknown talent and passion for making hats. Go figure.

NaNoWriMo is taking up a great deal of time. It's day 12, and I have passed the halfway point: 25, 615 words as of 8:13pm this evening. Feel free to applaud or to bow before me. I mean that. I don't really have a plot outline ( or an actual plot, really) so I write in the freewriting style, just like I did in my writing group and in Morning Pages. So, that probably helps, as I am not bothered with such pesky details as 'does this fit into the plot', 'where did this character come from' or 'what's going on here'. No, it's just a way to get the voices out of my head, and have some fun along the way. I've reached a point where anything that isn't writing is just getting in my way. I don't want to be doing anything else. Except sleeping, making hats, and taking Puppy to the park.

I have another 24385 words to meet the 50K goal, although I will keep on writing through the 30th, just because I love it. So, if you don't hear much from me, don't worry. I'm off in a world far far away, glued to my shiny new laptop.

No so Random

2009-10-28T20:30:00.000-07:00

I am starting Chapter 4 of the Artist's Way tomorrow. This is the week I've been dreading, since there is no reading of any kind outside of the book & the exercises! No tv! No radio! No computer! What awful timing! Nanowrimo starts on Sunday - I can't check in with my accountabilibuddies until Tuesday night. I just joined a very chatty e-coven. I have to skip a week as soon as I did my intoductory post. Project Runway is on tomorrow night! Ack! This is going to be rough.

So, everyone have a great week, Happy Halloween, and for everyone in the Denver area - I hope you get a snow day Thursday :)

random thursday on....Thursday! Wow!

2009-10-22T17:11:00.000-07:00

I have dishes to do, a sickle to make, a costume to finish, and a sister to pick up at the dentist office, as soon as she calls.
But all of that pales in comparison to actually making this uber-flexible deadline.
I began a new batch of sourdough starter on Sunday. It starts with rye flour and water, and goes from there. I just did the third refresh about half an hour ago, and my little dough balls (one for home, one for work) are already beginning to rise. Yeast and I play well together.
The chocolate and I.....well. It seems to be back in the 'on' phase of our on-again/off-again relationship. Mostly. At least I'm not the only one having the same problem.
I am seriously considering further my education and broadening my options by attending culinary school. I'm leaning toward Cook Street (short commute, short intense program, month in France & Italy, lots of wine....). I'm searching for grants, because I really don't want to take on a massive amount of debt. If you know of grants for middle-aged, childless women (doesn't Obama want us to better ourselves too? Why just "Obama wants moms to go back to school" ads?) please let me know.
The roofing saga continues. 2 sections of the new shingles need to be replaced. At the company's expense. The gutter guys mistakenly put gutters on the garage. We get to keep them. At the company's expense. So...yay.
I have about a dozen or so iris bulbs to plant. I keep waiting for that magical combination of good weather, a day off and feeling well. Saturday or possibly tomorrow afternoon may be that day.
The Witches Ball is Saturday night. I have finally decided to go. (Yes I made a costume. Just for fun. It was my Artist's Way project this week). I was invited to participate in the opening ritual, but declined. Najah told me the planning meeting got a bit contentious, what with people trying to blend various pagan traditions, taking exception to certain words and making assumptions about other people's practice. Glad I missed that.
Project Runway tonight - I think the only reason Logan is still on the show is because he's pretty. If he was plain or homely, he'd be long gone.

Shadow Shot Sunday -

2009-10-17T20:18:00.000-07:00

A snake in the grass.

I like the way the shadow frames the light coming through the hole in the log. I also liked the puzzled looks the orienteering folks gave me as they walked by while I was taking it.

Random thoughts, Wildlife, and a Very Happy Dog

2009-10-17T19:37:00.000-07:00

If it weren't for the park, manual labor and morning pages, I might have gone crazy this week. I am having a bad time with chocolate this week. So much so that scientific explanations mean nothing, and it just boils down to ...SHE HATES ME! IT'S PERSONAL! I'm more kinesthetic than visual or auditory, so movement is soothing. Walking, writing, weeding, kneading, rolling dough - it's all good.

On Wednesday's walk, snakes posed for me, rather than slithering off as they normally do.

I like snakes, when they aren't venomous, and are outside where they belong.

Same goes for spiders, like this one. I was off the trail at Chatfield State Park when I saw him. I went there for my first weekly artist date (part of the Artist's Way thing I'm doing). At one point, I came across a lot of people with maps and compasses. Was this a scavenger hunt? No. It was an orienteering class. Oh. My explanation was more fun. Although if one wants to test one's orienteering skills safely, Chatfield's a good place to do it. It's big, but bordered on all sides by roads.

Yesterday, my sister came with us for walkies. She is a more focused walker than Puppy and me, so we kept a brisk pace, and walked the entire loop of the park. The sun was setting as we headed back toward the car. Just as we reached Tabor Lake, an owl called. It called again, and I spotted him in the bare branches of a tree. He called again, and then flew off into the sunset. This is not that owl. He was at the Highlands Festival. My camera is not capable of long distance twilight photos.

Here is Puppy, at the beginning of the walk. She was still this happy two miles later.

Today was massive yardwork, after the artist date at Chatfield.

Then up to Prospect Park, with tarp and body bag to load up on free mulch. Yes, we have a body bag. Bevin got it from work. It's not used. It's new. It's 'FEMA blue', has handles, and is very good for hauling mulch.

I am making a new batch of sourdough starter tonight. Baking bread makes me happy in a way that is physically and spiritually fulfilling.

Am still not sure I want to go to the Witches' Ball this year, but I'm having fun planning costumes. I haven't made one, but the planning is fun. It's next Saturday. I love Project Runway. It's so inspiring. I loved the week they made clothes from paper. And the costume week was fun.

random sort of thoughts

2009-10-09T17:21:00.000-07:00

If an opportunity presents itself

do I walk through that door

do I leave what I know behind

do I make that leap

walk off that cliff

or stay in the familiar

If the path leads in a different direction

than the one I expected

do I open myself to the possibility

that the map in my mind might not be the best one

stay

or go

or something else

but I think I'm ready

for another adventure

This week I finally got all our scraps of paper, parchment, legal pads, printout and copies into a coherent, legible, organized recipe notebook. I have been trying to get this done for about two years. Today, I was alone in the kitchen and took advantage of the solitude to rearrange the kitchen into what is hopefully a more efficient and functional space. This involved lifting a table over my head in order to get between the stove and the sink and get one leg of the table between the wall and the gas line. Yeah, I'm a bit sore from that.

The distasteful chore of the weekend: buying a new bathing suit. The one I have is one Ai Chi class away from an arrest for indecent exposure. I'm guessing a sporting goods store is my best bet for a reasonably priced, modest, functional suit. We'll see.

I'm hoping to get some bulbs planted this weekend, but it's supposed to be cold and wet this weekend. Planting may be postponed for a few days until the sun and milder temperatures come back.

Random something resembling thought process

2009-09-30T18:58:00.001-07:00

My sister/friend Laura gave me the best key chain ever : Pocket Vlad, (PV for short). His tag says that he will protect me from harm when I am outside past my bedtime. That doesn't happen often, so PV will have an easy life.

Note his classic formal attire; PV has old-school standards. He wouldn't be caught undead in polyester, leather or denim, or Dracula forbid....sparkling. He's going to be my version of the gnomes and barbies and suchlike that people take on trips and photograph in front of tourist attractions.

He's posing in front of cairn-of-the-day. Building cairns in the creek at Prospect Park is a hobby. It's oddly soothing, and very satisfying in a get-your-zen-on kind of way. It's a practice in non-attachment, both in the falling rocks as I build one, and in knowing that it won't stay up after I leave. Wind, water, critters, people, gravity.....something will knock it down. It's sort of like making beautiful pastries and confections knowing that they will be devoured and gone. Impermanence in action.

I am slowly figuring out how to work training an intern into the work schedule. I tend to focus on the production list, and getting everything done, and things like teaching the intern how to do something properly sort of gets pushed off to the side. So, today I delegated something I love to do (making tart dough) and spent some time one on one with the intern, showing her how to shell and fill truffles. She didn't tell me she'd had almost no experience with that when I asked her to fill the molds yesterday. So, there was a lot of overfilling, which makes backfilling (putting the bottoms on) really, really difficult. So, now I know to watch her more closely, and walk her through every new thing, and she knows to speak up and tell me when she doesn't know something. Tomorrow I'll show her how to backfill, and she'll find out why filling the shells with ganache is such an important thing to do correctly. Because some of her filling was a little over-full. It's a great learning tool though, trying to deal with overfilled molds. Mwah hahahaha.

Cold weather is coming in tonight, and I want to make soup and whole-grain bread. I like chilly days, like bundling up in fleece or flannel sheets. I like that the cooler weather and darkening days has prompted Chef to change our start time from 6 back to 7. That hour makes a real difference. Today was the first day, and Puppy was confused and disappointed that sleeping in did not mean this was a day off, and that there would be no morning visit to the park.

I'll be making a new sourdough starter tomorrow. I will try not to kill this one. I think whole grains would be more appealing in sourdough bread.

I finally tried my pumpkin marmelade (aside from the initial tasting when I made it). It makes an absolutely lovely sandwich with smoked turkey & harvarti. My friend Marla said she has been putting it on everything, including French toast. That does sound good.

Broken Random Thought Process Whatever

2009-09-25T16:06:00.000-07:00

It sounds like the roofers are wrapping up - the incessant thumping has reduced to sounds of sweeping and dragging and clattering ladders. Hopefully it's all done today, and tomorrow will be peaceful. At least on my roof. Some neighbors are still waiting for roof and window repair.

Puppy still smells of skunk. I've learned over the years that it will take several baths and several weeks for the smell to go away completely.

I have the house to myself for a few days while Bevin goes to California to see Laura. Nice.

Today was a learning experience for me & my intern. Somedays I miss working alone. I am still finding my way as a sous-chef/kitchen manager. I forget how much supervision and training people need in order to be successful. I must be looking at this the wrong way. Instead of seeing interns as free labor, I should see them more as a student. A student who can't be trusted to do something as simple as making meringue or loading a tempering machine or cleaning up after themselves without supervision. Ok, meringue isn't that simple until you've done it for awhile.

My brief tenure in the foster department of the animal shelter I worked at was an epic failure. Largely due to the abysmal lack of training and supervision provided by the manager. Eventually, she sat me down for the "help me help you" talk. She told me to provide her with a list of what I thought would help me be successful in this position. So I did. A thoughtful, detailed list of the areas I needed training in, as well as a schedule for doing so, and ways to arrange the necessary time. She said " This are all valid points. It's very practical. It's just not how this department works." I resigned.

I don't want my interns to feel that way. Somehow, I need to make the time to teach them what I need them to know, while still getting my own work done and keeping on top of the production schedule. Especially as we gear up for fourth quarter. There's no time for massive do-overs.

Today really didn't go well in the kitchen. I have trouble letting go of the things I consider "mine". Twice now I've delegated something that's "mine", and both times it's been done wrong, wrong ,wrong. Clearly, I'm not teaching correctly. So, next week, the intern and the assistant will watch me do it. The week after, I will watch them do it. And I will be more diligent
about checking on them as they go along. I will try to remember that instructions have to be repeated. Although 'clean up after yourself as you go' seems like something I shouldn't have to still be saying 3 weeks into the internship.

The roofers even redid the roof of the well. It looks really cute now. Right now, brawny men are picking nails up out of my lawn. Nice.

It's chilly. I'm tired. I think we'll skip the park tonight and go in the morning. Maybe just a walk around the block for Puppy tonight. And early to bed. Looking forward to a morning with no alarm clock.

I never planned to be in charge. Or to be a teacher. Somehow, it just keeps happening. There must be some kind of lesson here. I'm very alpha, in a lonewolf, not-a-joiner sort of way. I have an unfortunate tendency toward a "do it my way or I kill you. oh, just get out of my way,I'll do it myself" management style. Really not that useful unless one is leading barbarian hordes. So....yeah.

Bless me, Blog, for I have sinned....

2009-09-20T18:01:00.000-07:00

It's been exactly a month since my last entry. It's not that nothing has been happening, it's that I have renewed my practice of morning pages, and I find that it satisfies my craving to write. I've rarely posted on Facebook or Twitter in the last few weeks either. I haven't used my camera much. All my technolove has been saved for iPod & my minimalist ecophone.

Last weekend, Bevin & I went to the Longs Peak Scottish & Irish Highland Festival. As usual, the Scottish weather came to Estes Park. I learned a lot about how to attend festivals. Never, ever go to an outdoor festival without a rain poncho. It wasn't just misty, it poured. It was still great fun, made all the more so by braw laddies in kilts (a muscular guy in a utilikilt and Doc Martens - omg). The shot of Glenlivet 12 year old didn't hurt either.

One of the raptor rescue groups was at the Fest. This beautiful guy is showing his good side. He's missing his other eye. His injury also caused brain damage, and although he is physically capable of flying, he doesn't remember how. I hope for his sake that he doesn't remember flying at all. Remembering that power and freedom, knowing that he's capable, but not being able to figure out how to do it.......what utter torment. Now he helps educate people about raptors, and he's well cared for. He seemed content.

The Frying Scotsman had all things fried, including Scotch Eggs and Deep Fried Mars Bars. The Mars bars were a bit of a disappointment. It sounds so good, but it was a bit bland and overly sweet. The batter needs to be kicked up a notch. Or three.

On the way home, we got caught in a snowstorm. That's right. On September 12th, we got caught in a snowstorm. Tonight a cold front is moving in, and although we'll probably have more 80 degree days soon, a few days down in the 50's & 60's is a welcome change from the heat.

Our new roof should be going on this week. The garden is slowly coming back, just in time to die back for fall. Most of the trails have been cleared at the park.

Last night, I went to my second concert at Red Rocks. Jason Mraz & K'nann. After an uphill climb from our roadside parking spot, through a meadow filled with deer, we began the really steep climb up and up and up the stairs into the amphitheatre. Remember the stairs up to Shelob's tunnel in Return of the King? It's quite similar. Thanks to Ginger's jumping the gun on her birthday present, we had awesome seats. And perfect weather. And music so good that I, the person who tries to be invisible, was up and dancing in public. All through both shows. And singing along during the frequent audience participation segments. After all, as Jason said - "Never let your mind get in the way of a good time". Jason Mraz is very spiritual, in a hip & groovy, non-preachy kind of way. His song 10,000 Motherf***ers is one of my absolute favorite spiritual songs. It feels like an invocation, and I like to play it on the way to work, or when I'm cooking or baking.

So, in the spirit of Jason's Gratitude Cafe tour:

I'm grateful to have been at Red Rocks on such a magical night.

I'm grateful for Ginger, and that she wanted to go to the concert, and that she wanted to go with me.

I'm grateful to reminded of the beauty of my adopted state.

I'm grateful for the hawk that came into my yard and perched on my clothesline.

I'm grateful for the hawk that can no longer fly, yet still has a life of purpose.

I'm grateful for my family, for my friends, for my companions, human, furred and feathered.

I'm grateful to Julia Cameron, for coming up with Morning Pages.

I'm grateful to Najah, for reminding me to do them.

I'm grateful to and for the Source, by all Its Many Names.

I'm grateful to be reminded of the importance of gratitude.

Blessed Be.

I'm grateful, just to be.

random thought process thursday

2009-08-20T19:40:00.000-07:00

Today we filled a massive, last minute order for Cirque du Soleil's Denver opening night party. I have never been to Cirque du Soleil. I've seen some of their shows on Bravo, and the clowns freak me out. I don't like clowns. Not Bozo, not Ronald McDonald, not Red Buttons, not the creepy clowns of Cirque. No clowns. Something about them makes my skin crawl.

The acrobats and aerialists are amazing though. The costumes are very sparkly.

Got through an entire day without touching the snack bin at work. The snack bin is where the reject truffles & confections go. I kept telling myself: I am not the snack bin's bitch. I am not the snack bin's bitch....

Took Puppy to the park this evening. Some of the downed trees still have green, vibrant looking leaves. My favorite trails are still mostly closed. Puppy doesn't care as long as she's at the park.

The water level of the creek has dropped to its low summertime levels. Someone has been building piles of stones in the shallow water. They look both organic and unexpected. I made one myself this evening.

Ready for the canicular days of summer to be over. Love the chill in the air when I let Puppy out at 5am. I like that darkness comes a bit earlier. It's easier to slow down and go to sleep when it's actually dark out.

Let them eat....something other than cake

2009-08-15T23:14:00.000-07:00

The bagpiper came out of the woods, through a meadow of tall grass and wildflowers. He lost his footing on the hill, went down on one knee, and kept playing. He got a standing ovation from the wedding guests.
The officiants asked everyone to take a moment of silent reflection and in their own way to bless Leah & John's marriage. They called in the friends and family who couldn't make the trip, and the family and friends who'd passed away. I missed the rest of the ceremony - I was working.

Leah used to work with us at the kitchen. She decided to skip the traditional cake and go with a dessert buffet. More brides should do this. Three kinds of truffles, two kinds of barque, two kinds of chocolate bars, tiny brownies, tiny blondies, lemon curd tartlets with blueberries, pecan pralines, tiny lemon chess tarts, tiny coconut cream pies, three kinds of hard candies, and a smores bar. The guests loved it, praise flowed freely, and Chef and I ran our butts off keeping the table stocked.

The folks from Aspen Specialty Foods & Catering loved it too, and it was mutual. We kept trading food back and forth in the prep area. Craig, Sandy and their 16 year old assistant were super nice, super professional, and super talented. We sent them home with leftover goodies, they sent us home with tapenade and red pepper hummus.

The host's son, Connor, who is about 9 or so was very enthusiastic. He kept coming to check on our progress, beg for samples, tell us how excited he was about dessert, ask if he could help. I did give him a job - protecting the tables while we were setting up. He was thrilled. He sampled everything - every appetizer, every hot dish, every cold dish, every side, every condiment, every dessert. He made Chef a smore. He caught the bouquet. Yes, he did.

Chef has a Garman GPS system he calls Nanny McVee (for v-chip). She has an English accent and sounds rather put out. It was handy to have as we drove on twisty mountain roads up to Evergreen, but it's rather odd to be told to 'turn left' or 'turn right' when the road is merely curving.

I got home a bit after midnight; tired, sore and overall very pleased. I love being praised, and I really love it when Chef introduces me to people. "This is Kate, my sous chef".

Monday in the Gardens, with Najah & the Dinosaurs

2009-08-11T19:40:00.000-07:00

How fair is a garden amid the trials and passions of existence. ~Benjamin Disraeli

Gardening is civil and social, but it wants the vigor and freedom of the forest and the outlaw. ~Henry David Thoreau

Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she laughs with a harvest. ~Douglas William JerroldGardens... should be like lovely, well-shaped girls: all curves, secret corners, unexpected deviations, seductive surprises and then still more curves. ~H.E. Bates

Melted Thoughts and Pie

2009-08-08T20:26:00.000-07:00

Why does my computer reject my camera? Tonight none of the usual measures worked, and I ended up putting the memory card in my sister's camera. Vexing. The usb cords are not interchangeable.

My friend Najah got an e-vite to a 70th birthday party that came with attached pdf instructions. Potluck 5:30 to 7, Honoring Ceremony 7 to 8, Drum Circle 8-?. Rules for the Honoring Ceremony: Come before X, say 3 words that reflect your experience of X.

Uh huh. I wondered aloud if the guests were supposed to bow when it was their turn to "come before X", if they were supposed to back away & give a final bow after they said their 3 words. Megalomaniac, presumptuous & self important come to mind. The invitation also stipulated that $70 donations be made to X's favorite charity in her name. Miss Manners would be appalled.

The book signing for Mrs. Rowe's Little Book of Southern Pies was today, and was a great success. Mollie (my friend & the author) told me that non-fiction signings are considered a success if four books are bought and signed. We sold 16 books, over 50% of the amount we had . Mollie told me that many of the reporters, interviewers and readers she's spoken to think she is Mrs. Rowe, and that these are her recipes. Clearly, none of these folks read the introduction.

The tiny sample pies were also a hit. The Coconut Cream Pie was far and away the most popular - I made a dozen tartlets for sale - they were all gone by the time the event was over. They are going on the regular menu. People who don't like cream pie love this pie. A customer from Kentucky who said he has never found a coconut cream pie to match his mama's loved this pie. His eyes rolled back in his head and he made happy noises. He bought a book just for this recipe.

Friends I haven't seen for a while came to the shop. It was great.

To the left - Mollie, her husband Eric,
and their daughters - Tess (in yellow)
and Emma (in green). To the right, my friend Bev. Sean came with her triplets. The girls were toddlers when I met Sean in pastry school. Now they're are getting ready for first grade. Ginger came by, with delicious vegan chocolate chip cookies.

The heat is getting on my nerves. It was 84.7 degrees in the kitchen yesterday. It may not sound like much, but a chocolate kitchen should be 66-68 degrees. I miss winter. It's easier to cope with ice on the inside of the windows than it is to cope with sweltering heat.

I think we should put chocolate cream tartlets on the menu.

Wondering if Mollie & company are up for a day trip. Estes Park/Rocky Mountain National Park - elk wandering around, Bear Lake, Lily Lake. Or maybe Manitou Springs, with Garden of the Gods and Caverns of the Winds. Maybe Mount Evans, although that drive seems about as long as either Estes or Manitou.

Have spent the last few minutes staring blankly at the screen. Should probably call it a night and get some sleep. I owe Puppy an early morning walk. Neither of us likes the heat.

Broken Thoughts & Pie

2009-07-30T16:41:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling very overscheduled for the next few weeks. Most of it's good stuff, aside from the work stuff it's all self-inflicted, but I'm not used to having so much planned in advance.

Here's some of what's been going on at work:

The nine wedding cakes for a client who had no requirements other than that the cakes "taste amazing". No requests other than "that lustre dust would be nice" . No wedding colors, no theme, no bridezilla nonsense.

3 chocolate cakes filled with pain d'epices (gingerbread spice) ganache, decorated with leaves.
3 white cakes filled with the Violette ganache, decorated with dragonflies.
3 red velvet cakes filled with Vrtnica Malina ganache (cranberry, raspberry & rose), decorated with sea shells & pearls. It's my subtle invocation to Aphrodite, the shells, the roses, the pearls.

Tarts of the week, clockwise from top: chocolate chess, mixed berry, cherry with kirsch & pandora spices in chocolate sucree, pear frangipane in chocolate sucree.

I have the pie song from Waitress stuck in my head. I want to make pie. Lots of pie. There is no recipe for Chocolate Strawberry Oasis, but it seems to be nothing more than a bittersweet chocolate pudding with a hint of spice poured over sliced fresh strawberries. It sounds really good right now, in spite of the cool, rainy weather.
Carmelized Onion pie. Tomato & Spinach pie. Tart Apple with Drunken Currants pie. mmmmmmmm, pie.

I'm housesitting for Najah this weekend, and what is usually 48 hours of uninterrupted solitude is being disrupted by family obligations. Both of the two nights away have been claimed. I rather resent this, but there is no graceful way to avoid it. Last night Najah showed me how to work her dvr & the multitude of remotes. We watched a couple episodes of True Blood. It has a dreadful effect on my accent, an effect that lasts for hours afterward unless I pay attention when I speak. (True Blood is set in Louisiana, in case you don't know).

The adjuster from Allstate took nearly 3 hours to complete what he said would be an hour-and-a-half appointment. We're getting a new roof out of it, so that's something positive. Everytime it's rained since the big storm (about every day or so), I keep looking up at the ceiling expecting a flood. So far, so good. I have a recurring waking nightmare that the roofers show up and rip the roof off while Mollie & her family are here for dinner. The adjuster, Mr. Carter, has a strong Southern accent and likes to over-explain. Read this with a drawl. "This is a five step process? Step one was when you called your agent to file a claim? Step two, that was when I called you to set up this appointment? Step three...that's this appointment?" And so on. I may have mentioned this last week. It's hard to remember that far back.

Another wedding &the book signing next weekend. Another wedding and a bellydance class field trip the weekend after that. Somehow, I am taking classes Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays starting next week. Two more weeks with Sammi, the Wonder Intern. Then an as-yet-to-be-determined new intern, who has already been named Not-Sammi.

Trying to come up with a menu for next week's dinner with Mollie & company that is easy, tasty and allows time for maximum visitation over a leisurely meal. Any ideas?

Better late than never...

2009-07-26T05:52:00.000-07:00

Thanks to advice from tech-savvy friends, the computer & camera are back on speaking terms. So, here are photos that go with Insert Photo Here. Read that first. Or not.

The daredevil ducks and the curious squirrel.

The devastation of Prospect Park.

Box of therapy.

The overseer: "Get back to work! Don't make me come over there! Oh, you made me get up...now you're in for it!"

Insert Photos Here

2009-07-25T18:54:00.001-07:00

There are photos to go with this entry, but my computer is refusing to recognize my camera. I reinstalled the software, but to no avail. It has similar issues with the iPod - I am beginning to wonder if something is wrong with the usb port.

So, anyway. Cleanup from the storm is proceeding throughout the neighborhood. At the Jefferson Methodist church the sermon board now reads "Free Holy Firewood".
At Prospect Park,.....well, it's bad. Trees were uprooted, pulling soil, rocks and sometimes the bike path up with them. Big trees. Old trees. They block the paths, cross the creek, changing the familiar and beloved landscape. Insert desolate photo, with the following caption "Many of these trees were my friends...trees I have known from seed and acorn......".Treebeard Although I haven't known the trees quite as long as that, I did know where they were, enjoyed the shade of their leaves in summer and the patterns of their branches against the sky in winter. Now they're gone.

Puppy seemed oblivious to the damage, happily trotting along, nose to the ground , tail curled up in the question mark of contentment. Birds were singing, butterflies flitted about, and a very fat squirrel sat up and watched us go by. Insert photo of fat, curious squirrel here. The ducks are still shooting the rapids of Clear Creek. These are the daredevils of the duck world. Instead of floating on a quiet lake, these ducks like the fast moving water of the creek. I've seen them ride the current, get out, walk back up the bank, and do it again. Insert photo of mallards shooting the rapids.

We finished bagging up the backyard. Kitty made a nest in one of the piles of leaves. Insert photo of handsome grey cat basking in the sun. I consoled myself by replanting my container garden with new flowers in shades of purple, pink and white. I added fresh compost to my few survivors. I marvelled at the little rhubarb that could - so tiny, but still there, with fresh new leaves on delicate ruby stalks. Insert photo of restored container garden here.

The city picked up branches and debris on the roads, but the wreckage in our yards is our problem. But..the city made arrangements with the good people at Rooney Road Recycling
to take Lakewood residents' yard waste for free through the 27th. They were really nice, all 6 times we went today. Yep, 6 trips to haul the 60-some bags of leaves and branches to the recycling center. (I love my station wagon). At the time we finished, the pile was about a block long , about 20 feet tall, I'm not sure how wide. But it was huge. It will all be chopped into mulch, as will all the branches the city and county pick up from the roads and the parks. Mulch that's free for the taking. So, you get your trees back, just in a different form.

It feels good to have most of the wreckage gone. It feels good to have replanted the containers I see from the kitchen window. It will be good to meet with the insurance adjuster on Tuesday (read this with a strong Southern accent, end each sentence with an upwards inflection - This is a five step process? Step one is when you called your agent? Step two - is now, when we're setting the appointment? Step three is the appointment? ". Every step toward back-to-normal feels good.
We lost one window in the garage. Our roof is damaged, but so far, not leaking. We lost branches, but not trees. Our garden is flattened, but much of it will come back. Eventually.
We didn't lose our roof, our windows, or part or all of the house. Some people did. So I feel blessed. Tired, sore, grungy - but blessed.

On my last trip, the guy at the recycling center smiled and said "6 trips....God's mercy on you, dear". I smiled back and said "thanks, and on you too". "Yep," he said. "We all need it right now". He waved me on, and I unloaded and emptied the last few bags. I looked at the massive pile, at the other people unloading cars, trucks, u-hauls..... So many people, putting their individual worlds back together.

In my militant pagan phase, I would have rejected that nice man's blessing. Fortunately, I've grown a lot since then. Kindness is kindness. No sense in getting offended by terminology. God, Goddess, Jesus, Buddha, Muhammad,Jehovah, Great Spirit, The Powers That Be, the Force......the Infinite Source Behind All The Names loves us. Bring on your blessings. Accept mine. May Mercy be on all of us, everyone.

Broken Thought Process Actually Thursday

2009-07-23T14:36:00.000-07:00

Still mountains of cleanup to do after the storm. Some neighbors orderly & methodical, some puttering around their yards while their broken windows go uncovered. Old Bob across the street is especially disorganized, but rejects all offers of help. He has several rental houses in the neighborhood, and seems to be putting most of his energy there. He does a bit of work at home, then crosses the street to show us the alumni yearbook from the private high school he attended on Oahu. He shows us Barack Obama went to the same school, although much later. We all agree that Obama has probably the worst job in the world, that none of us would want it.

Expecting a call from Allstate adjuster. Got a call from Allstate this afternoon, was very pleased until it turned out to be a sales call for the roadside assistance program. That isn't going to get the roof fixed.
Cleanup made more unpleasant by the heat - it's in the nineties again. Took a break from the yard and cleaned the house. Much more manageable task.
The vultures and looky-loos seemed to have moved on - within hours of the storm roofers, door & window and yard cleanup crews were cruising the neighborhood. Strangers drove slowly through the neighborhood gawking.
My nextdoor neighbor loaned me her leaf blower. I've always hated the noise, but the speed with which leaves & twigs were removed from gravel driveways, paths, and from the flower beds was impressive. That probably saved a few hours.
I found three dead birds in the yard, buried until leaves & hail. A sparrow, a red-headed finch, and a mourning dove. So small, so broken. I buried them next to my fish.
One rose bush is still in decent shape, leaves & buds about to bloom. 2 of the 1o or so lavender plants still have some blossoms.
Exhausted and sore, but when I feel like whining, I think of all my neighbors with their downed trees, smashed fences and boarded up windows. I think of the farmer whose crop was wiped out. I think of the little Italian bakery/cafe near work that lost power for almost 24 hours and lost all their refrigerated inventory. Roughly a $10,000 loss, they said.

Not sleeping well at night, which is normal for summer. Naps are good, but they interfere with sleeping at night. But I don't sleep much at night, so I nap. So I don't sleep well at night....

wondering if I should purge my cookbook collection - I probably have about 4 shelves worth. Plus a bunch of 3-ring binders full of recipes.... I have a hard time applying the 6 months rule to books. The 'if you haven't used it in 6 months, sell or donate it" rule.

I need to get on with something productive. But I just don't feel like it.

Shadow Shot Sunday

2009-07-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

Mr. Frog/Toad, wearing the shadows from the cattails in the pond.

Update: froggy was named over the weekend. It's now Mathilde, which I guess makes it Mlle. Frog/Toad.

Broken & Melted Thought Process Day

2009-07-17T19:55:00.000-07:00

It's so hot....Puppy jumped over the bank to get into the creek this afternoon. She's usually better behaved than that.

I broke down and put the little window air conditioner in tonight. I smashed my pinky finger in the process. It's not severely damaged, just throbbing.

I feel like I am going nowhere. It's too hot to figure out where to go.

I'm kicking myself for not acting young when I was young. Now I'm middle-aged. Yes, I said it. Middle-aged. How the fuck did this happen? Obviously, it happened because time passes, unless you die, which really isn't in my 5 or 10 year plan.

That's about the only thing in my 5 or 10 year plan. I'm not much for life planning. I tend to drift along, moving from one thing to another without really plotting a course. Maybe I should try that. Having a direction. What a concept.

We have a client who wants 9 cakes for her wedding. Which is now 2 weeks away. Weddings are usually planned way ahead. We gave her a bid, 3 flavors, 3 of each - 9 cakes at the regular price of $18. She got back to us a week past the deadline, and she wants something much more complicated. For the same price. This demand was sandwiched in between over the top compliments. Compliments so excessive it was clearly an attempt at manipulation. I don't appreciate that.
The kitchen is so damn hot. It's almost impossible to work after 11 or so. Chocolate won't go into temper, buttercream melts....it's vexing.

SPOILER ALERT: For anyone who didn't read Harry Potter & the Half Blood Prince, or hear about the plot when the book came out, skip this paragraph.

Going to see the new Harry Potter movie tomorrow. I don't remember much about the Half-Blood Prince. Except that it was dark, a bit tedious in places, and Dumbledore dies. I don't think there was anything as scary as Delores Umbridge, her pink tweed suits, and her office full of kitten plates.

Puppy has decided that 4:30 is a great time to get up in the morning. She has no concept of weekends. So we'll be up with the sun. And probably at the park shortly after. The air will be fresh and cool, the wooded trails by the creek will be inviting, and stillness will be giving way to birdsong and the whirring of the early morning cyclists. And after about 20 minutes or so, my brain will stop spinning, and there will be nothing but the rhythm of my steps, the sound of the water, the touch of the breeze. This is the real reason why I walk in the park. Not for fitness, not because I should, but for those moments when movement and stillness become one and the same.

Photos from Wen Pond

2009-07-16T19:33:00.000-07:00

Chef & Loren built a new koi pond this spring. It's about 4 times the size of the old one. So, the big koi, seen in their aquatic jungle, took advantage of the space and spawned. Pretty much the same day they went into their new home.
See the tiny little koi - they are newly hatched and about a 1/4 to a 1/2 inch long at this point. Hopefully at least some of them will live - some will be eaten by the other koi, and some will probably be eaten by the pond's newest resident.

I'm not sure if this is Mr. Frog or Mr. Toad - he's very aquatic, which would indicate frog, but has what seem to be large paratid glands, which indicates toad. According to some sources however, there's no real difference between the two, except for one small subgroup, which are considered true toads.

Remember that animated version of the Hobbit? Here's Mr. Frog/Toad doing his impression of Gollum:

Here is my favorite flying insect, the dragonfly. See the stripes - I've only noticed this wing design in the last year or so. This one spends a lot of time flying around the pond, perching on the cattails and rushes.I did actually do some work while I was house/kitchen-sitting. Here are tarts of the week - cherry almond with a hint of lemongrass, pink peppercorn and star anise, and not-your-grandma's rhubarb, with cinnamon, brown sugar, and a balsamic reduction.

Broken Thought Process...um Saturday?

2009-07-11T19:26:00.000-07:00

I love riding with the top down, but I need to remember to bring a hat. And wear something less revealing than an off-the-shoulder wench top.

Despite repeated applications of SPF 50 and a parasol, my pale Irish skin burned at the Renaissance Faire. Until the sky opened up, the rain and hail poured down, and my off-the-shoulder wench top became positively indecent. Or a top contender in a wet-wench-top contest. It's all a matter of perspective.

There are lots of marvelously dressed people at a RenFaire. But even more enjoyable, from a people watching point of view, are the folks who come in street clothes, and decide they need to embellish things a bit once they get there. Fairy wings with shorts, flip flops and face paint. A wooden sword and an "I'm with stupid" tee shirt. A tiny Jedi knight with a floppy sunhat. Yes, a Jedi at the RenFaire.

I've been told that the Colorado Renfaire is a bit, ok, more than a bit, lax in terms of period correctness. That it would more properly be called the Colorado Costume Party in a Vaguely Renaissance Setting, but with a Heavy LOTR, Celtic, Xena, Barbarian, and Pirate Influence Faire. So what. It's fun.

I did not take my camera this time. Mostly because I'm not quite sure where it is. My things are on a disappearing rampage. My red gym bag, the lock, the anti-chlorine shampoo & conditioner, and now the camera. It's very irritating. Especially since the last time I saw them was in the house. I don't like not knowing where my stuff is.

My printer is almost out of ink. I'm stalling until the last possible moment.

Is my camera under the car seat? I don't think so, but it's possible.

Is it early enough to go to bed?

People are getting really hyped about Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince. I don't remember much about the book, except that it's dark, and there's a death among the major characters. Which I like. An epic battle between good and evil has casualties, and since it's the heroes who stick their necks out, sometimes they will lose their heads. It's just a reasonable outcome. The series finale of Buffy should have had a much higher body count. Dawn should have been the first to die.

This camera thing is vexing me.

Broken Thought Process Day, Days, ok, a week or so....

2009-07-03T12:45:00.000-07:00

Or maybe it's shattered thought process. Or melted though process. Anything but coherent, lucid thought process.

Yesterday was one of those cursed days in the kitchen, the kind of day that makes me want to fall upon my whisk. (It's like falling on one's sword, without the messy consequences). The kind of day where I think perhaps I went down the wrong path. Today went much better, and ended around 11:30 or so.

We've been starting at 6am, and leaving around 1-2pm, because of the heat. I put foil on all the windows to deflect some of the sun, so now it looks like a white trash meth lab. But clean.

I haven't been to Facebook or Twitter in over a week. Nothing to say worth reporting on a daily basis.

Went to see Celtic Woman at Red Rocks Wednesday night - first time I have been to a concert there. OMG - the climb! Next time will wear walking shoes. Wondering why no outside beverages are allowed in, even more wondering why the concession stand takes the caps off the bottled water & wine, and why the soft drink cups don't have lids, or straws. Do they think they are being invaded by deadly ninjas who can hijack the amphitheatre with a small platic cap and a straw?

The drummers and the fiddler were fantastic. The fiddler actually danced while playing, in her long, floaty white dress and high heels.

The acoustics ARE really great - I can see what the fuss is about. It started raining during the last ten minutes or so, complete with thunder and lightning. People started leaving, which seemed rather pointless, as it was a good quartermile or so to the parking lots. Stay or leave, you'll get just as wet.

Discovered that Najah and I have rather disparate tastes in music - she really likes falsetto, like Don Henley and (shudder, ick) Michael McDonald. I, on the other hand, think that Michael McDonald's voice is as close as I ever want to get to having redhot needles shoved into my ears.

I'm having a lot of encounters with snakes this week, mostly live snakes, but one perfectly shed skin. Which is out in the garage curing in borax. I really like snakes, although they startle me a bit when we meet each other in the park. I'm sure it's mutual. They are not suited for pets, though. Some creatures should just be left wild.

My current passion is belly dance, aka oriental danse, aka raks sharki, aka beledi. Next session I am adding the intermediate class , so Monday evenings will be 2 back-to-back hours of dance. Someone else(s) is also in the grip of passion, as every one of some 20 or so belly dance music cd's are checked out of the library. I have holds on a few of them. In the meantime, there's always Pandora.

Take me to the RIver

2009-06-22T16:59:00.001-07:00

First, true confession time. Last week, when I was watching True Blood with Najah, a bunch of square dancers in full regalia came into Sam's bar. I said, "I used to dress like that back in square dance club". Give me a break, I was in junior high. So today, for my birthday, this is what she gave me:

The handles are ties, and the sides are album covers. Square dance songs, complete with calls. Some titles? Boil them cabbages down, Pop Goes the Weasal, Devil's Dream, and my personal favorite : Back up and Push.

The river is running high right now. Yesterday as we finished our walk through Prospect Park an upside down canoe went by. Someone else was already calling 911. Later, I found out that the canoe belonged to Najah's husband Tim's friend Arthur. Tim and Arthur had planned to run the river, but made it only 100 yards before being tipped out of the boat, which sailed merrily along without them. They are both fine, and very lucky to have been tossed out in a boulderless stretch. About 1/4 mile or so further down are the boulders you can see in the photo at the top of the blog. Tim has been grounded from any further boat trips - it seems this is not the first time he's fallen overboard.

So today, Najah & I met to celebrate Tim's escape and my birthday. Sitting by the river, just above the rapids, we toasted with Jim Beam, followed by a Coke chaser. I learned that whiskey followed by Coke is sooooo much better than whiskey in Coke. It creates a marvelous, burny, smokey sweetness in the mouth. But I digress. We stood ankle deep in the cold, fast moving water. Najah made her offerings of thanksgiving. I tossed water over my head & neck. I wanted to submerge, but common sense prevailed. Najah scooped up some water and sprinkled over me, invoking a birthday blessing.

Take me to the river,

drop me in the water

Push me in the river,

dip me in the water

Washing me, washing me down

Broken Thought Process DaythatendsinY

2009-06-19T16:08:00.000-07:00

I miss my fish and the sound of the aquarium. I like the sound of flowing water. Maybe I need a fountain.

It's already too hot in the kitchen. We start coming in a 6am next week. Bleh.

Why does she go straight to weepy panic mode - pissed off or inquiring would be so much more effective.

Why did I agree to go out tonight? I just want to go to bed.

How did I end up with so much on my social calendar? It's just not normal.

I need to find a way to brush up on unused pastry skills that does not involve making loads of fattening things at home.

My upcoming birthday is precipitating a lot of soul searching and depression, what-the-hell-have-I-done-so-far and what-am-I-going-to-do-next. I'm not what I want to be. I'm not sure what I want to be. I don't know if I'm capable of being what I want to be. Maybe I'm just too lazy to make the effort.

That write-in-the-shower pad Jenn put on facebook is awesome. About time someone came up with that. Why wasn't it me? Oh, yeah. Science.

How do sculptors make stone look like diaphanous fabric? Why are cake artists into bright tacky-colored fondant and frosting? I'm glad we don't do wedding cakes anymore. I hate covering cakes in fondant. It's fun for sculpture, but not for covering. And it tastes bad. Really bad.

Do I have time for a nap and a shower? Do I care?

Where is all the time going? It seems to be going by so fast, and I'm left here feeling empty, feeling useless, feeling like a waste of time.

You are not a window Kitty. Get off the keyboard.

I really need a glass of water. I miss going to Free Writing on Friday mornings. It was really good for me. I haven't been able to go for over a year.

It's hot. I'm tired. And I don't want to go out. But I said I would. This is why I so rarely give my word - once it's done, it has to be honored. Integrity can be so inconvenient.

And then there were none

2009-06-16T15:17:00.000-07:00

The book said Orandas were difficult to keep. The book was right. The two remaining fish, Beaker, the little redcap in the background, and Coco, the one with the solo portrait, developed a raging parasitic infection. They were clearly suffering, so I euthanized them this afternoon. I am done with fish, at least for now. I'll empty and sanitize the tank, put it in the garage, and take some time to think about whether to try again, or to make a terrarium (plants only) or to donate the tank. They're buried in the garden, with the other 3 fish, among the ornamental plants. Marked by a shell. Yes, I know they were freshwater fish, but I don't care. I like the shell, I loved the fish. I don't know how many animals I euthanized in my 7 years working in an animal shelter. But today, right now, I feel the weight of them all.

Snowmelt Tuesday

2009-06-10T04:57:00.000-07:00

Here is the creek during winter - large waterworn rocks and boulders that provide a safe, dry area for crossing the creek without walking another half mile to the bridge.

And here is the same spot during snowmelt. I love snowmelt. The water is rushing and roaring, the woods become green and lush, the paths wash out in the low spots, little waterfalls spring up. Snowmelt changes the look and feel of the park.

On a tiny island in one of the lakes is the roosting tree - it's hard to see in the photo, but it's full of cormorants. So graceful in the water, so odd-looking in the tree. Also caught on film yesterday - a young redtail hawk, ducklings and a blue heron. The fish and dragonflies moved too fast yesterday.

Zen and the Art of Pie Dough

2009-06-02T16:56:00.000-07:00

I love working with dough. I love how the mess of flour and liquid transforms into a silken, smooth, living thing. Bread doughs, laminated doughs, biscuit doughs, pie dough.....

Pie dough is tricky. You have to know when to stop, know to stop before the dough is too wet, before it's overworked to a prematurely smooth paste that will shrink in the oven. Most books don't mention that part, the part about stopping when the dough is still a rough-looking shaggy mess. Which is just cruel. I spent much of my life thinking I couldn't make a good pie dough. It took a weeklong pastry class to show me the light. I've been in love with pie ever since.

These are a two of my favorite pie doughs:

Pate Brisee (from pastry school)

12 ounces all purpose flour

8 ounces fat (butter, shortening, lard or Earth Balance for the vegans. Can combine fats)

1/2 tsp salt

4 ounces ice cold water

OR, from Humble Pie (by Anne Dimock)

2/3 cup vegetable shortening

2 cups all purpose flour

1/2 tsp salt

2 tsp sugar

6 tablespoons ice water

Combine dry ingredients. Cut the fat into small pieces and toss into the flour mixture. Using your fingers or a fork, mix the fat into the sugar until it resembles coarse meal. I usually stop when the fat is in pea-sized flakes. Add about half the water, mix in. Slowly add the water until the dough just hangs together when squeezed. The dough should look rough and shaggy - it should not be smooth. Divide the dough into two disks, wrap in plastic, and put in the fridge for at least an hour. This will allow the moisture to distribute evenly, and allows the gluten to relax.

Dough will keep in the fridge for about a week, and in the freezer for about six months.

3 of my favorite books about pie:

Mrs. Rowe's Little Book of Southern Pie, by Mollie Cox Bryan

Humble Pie by Anne Dimock

The Perfect Pie by Susan G. Purdy

Now go forth and make some pie.

Old Fish, New Fish

2009-05-29T16:20:00.000-07:00

Willow, my last surviving original fish, had to be euthanized on Sunday. Beaker, the little red cap in the background, has been rather agitated all week.
So today, I got him a new tankmate. She (?) is a Chocolate Oranda, so her name is Coco.
So far, they seem to be getting along.

Harder than it Looks

2009-05-27T05:19:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the island of misfit candy canes. It's so much harder to make these than it looks on tv.

The behind the scenes tour at Hammond's Candies is humbling. And really really fun. My favorite part was putting about 30 pounds of soft, hot sugar candy onto the puller, and watching it go from coffee colored to white as it was pulled and stretched by three metal arms. Shaping the jacket for the candy canes was fun, standing at a table backed by a row of flames. The actual making of the candy canes - that's hard. The candymaker, who has been there for years, doesn't seem to be doing anything but running his gloved hands over the giant roll of peppermint candy. It somehow becomes a perfect cylinder of twisted red and white, cut to the perfect length, then expertly curved and sent on its way down the belt.

It didn't go that way for us. One misshapen mutant cane after another came from our inexpert hands. It's obviously quite a skill, one that can't be mastered in a 90 minute tour. So we laughed, and tried our best, and left with a stash of funny looking candy. It was great.

And I learned something today. I learned that I've grown a lot over the past couple of years. I have finally reached a point where it's ok to not be perfect before I've learned how to do something. I can try, and fail. Fail quite spectacularly. And it's ok. I don't have a meltdown. I don't beat myself up. I can laugh at myself and at the results of the attempt without calling myself a failure.

It reminded my of my surfing lessons. 3 agonizing lessons of not being able to stand up on the board, and hating myself for it. Feeling like a complete and total failure. For my fourth lesson, I had a different instructor. Jason watched me try a couple of pop-ups on the beach. "Ok, you have really long legs, which makes it really hard to pop-up right. So, how about for today, we forget about standing up. Let's focus on catching the waves, doing knee rides, and having fun. And I'll show you how to start reading the waves as they come in. How about that?" Jason, you had me at 'forget about standing up'. I had a fabulous time. I caught waves all by myself. I rode my board all the way onto the sand. It was two of the best hours of the vacation. All because someone gave me permission to change the goal, which changed how I saw myself. Instead of obsessing on perfection, my focus was on catching and riding the wave. So much easier. So much more fun.

It's not that I don't have standards, or that I don't want to do things well. It's just that I've finally realized that I am not exempt from the learning curve, and that's ok.

Pulling sugar and self-acceptance. Both harder than they look.

Beltania and What Happened After

2009-05-17T11:40:00.000-07:00

I could talk about the Maypole, nearly 30 feet tall and and festooned with nearly a mile of ribbon.

Or the Full Moon ritual featuring Isis, Hathor and Osiris, accompanied by drumming and the haunting vocals of Wendy Rule. Or the wanderers, who showed up with nothing but what they were wearing, trusting that they would be fed and sheltered.

I could talk about the workshops, or the vendors.

I could talk about the unexpected friendliness and sense of community. I could talk about the consternation when people realized that there was no cellphone reception in the valley. I could talk about the sense of coming home that I felt in the midnight sweat lodge. The chagrin of finding out that my air mattress had leaks and was missing a valve cap. The thankfulness that the teepee had a fairly comfortable couch.

I could talk about the peacocks. About the last thing I expected to find at a cattle ranch turned campground. Proud and elegant, they sauntered around the valley, roosted in the trees, peered into tents, and screamed their lovely blue heads off. One legend says that peacocks scream when they see the extreme ugliness of their feet. These peacocks seemed to scream in echo of any loud voice.

"People, please gather in a circle" scream!

"Welcome to Beltania 2009!" scream!

"We call upon the powers of the East" scream!

And so on, thoughout the weekend. Day or night, it made no difference. That haunting, mournful cry resounded through the valley.

On Friday evening, a moth landed on Najah's purse strap. I coaxed it onto my finger, where he sat for about a minute before flying off into the dusk.

On Saturday evening it rained, and a little frog took refuge in our teepee. He seemed rather affronted when we came in, but was quiet and cooperative when Dee scooped him up and put him outside. Saturday was also the night I learned that one can never have enough dry socks, that waterproof boots would have been a good thing to pack, and that nothing dries out in a leaky wooden teepee.

Sunday morning was still drizzly and wet. The cooks slept through their prep time, having been partying along with the rest of us the night before. Sensible people that they were, they made the coffee first.

I packed up my stuff, hugged old and new friends goodbye, and headed back home. The peacocks screamed as I drove through the gate.

Shadow Shot Sunday - Estes Park

2009-05-02T22:10:00.000-07:00

Early morning visitor at the B&B.

Shadows & Reflections

2009-04-26T08:32:00.000-07:00

My shadow entry: Miss Puppy, wondering why she is still in the car instead of starting her walk in the park.

And, in a subcategory of Shadow Shot Sunday: Reflection Shot Bonus.

Did you see it?

2009-04-22T05:26:00.000-07:00

The waning crescent moon with Mars just off to her bottom left curve? AWESOME! Absolutely worth being outside at 6am.

Dawn at the Crossroads

2009-04-20T06:00:00.001-07:00

The crescent moon was in the east

a soft golden-red light on the horizon

the moon is rising late, or very very early

but there is something magical about the moon and the sun sharing space

In the clear light of the new day

with Puppy beside me

I stand in the center of the deserted intersection

for all its mundane appearance

it's still a crossroads

The neighborhood dogs are howling

As I turn my back to the rising sun

and throw the water over my shoulder

We walk away without looking back

leaving what isn't wanted behind us.

It's still in that place of not quite dark

not quite light

and the birds are stirring

as we head home

toward the east

the still-bare trees are black against the sky

and on the branches is the shadow of a squirrel

watching the crescent moon.

twitterpation

2009-04-05T16:46:00.000-07:00

You blushed
when I called you 'my hero'
as you came through the door with more paper towels
and blushed again
when I was giving plating instructions
and said " Caitlin, would you place the ladybugs,
and ..my hero, whose name I don't know....
Justin, you said, looking down at me and smiling.
as I was setting out plates
you bent down and said
"you're doing a hell of a job'
and I smiled, saying, yes, I know how to unstack plates
but I wondered
is it a compliment
are you flirting
or are you just making fun of me
because it's my first time on the hotline
It doesn't really matter
because I like this twitterpated feeling
this coming back to life after a long long winter
I don't even mind
that because I was thinking of you
I drowned my cellphone
in the washing machine

Simple yet Complex

2009-04-04T05:49:00.000-07:00

Before......

After.........

The finale of our participation in the IACP conference.

Our truffles have wowed the meet&greet of the French Culinary Institute, the board of trustees dinner for Cook Street School of Fine Cooking, and last night we triumphed at the Wild and Rare dinner. Following a menu that included bison, elk and kangaroo, our poached pear with fudge sauce was universally adored. The food editor of Bon Appetit made a point of telling us how fabulous it was. The lovely Italian lady who has a gelato business in Texas loved it - and from what she said about her gelatos (including one with orange and vidalia onion) it would be worth a trip to Texas just to try them. We met a lot of really cool people (the Vidalia onion representative, two R&D people from Smuckers, a couple of very promising students from Johnson & Wales).

I always dread going to public events. I'm shy, introverted, and try to avoid attracting attention. There's a lot of stress leading up to them. Once it starts, I'm busy, people are excited, and the praise begins. I get to see and hear how people react to what I've made. And I blossom. I'm like one of those dried-up tea flowers that blooms when placed in boiling water.

But back to the dessert. A poaching syrup of star anise, saigon cassia cinnamon, tahitian vanilla bean, all spice, clove, black peppercorn, grapefruit, lemon and a reduction of Chateau Roland Sauternes 2006. Organic pear. Chocolate leaf of Kokoleka, from Oahu, only 18 trees of this variety in the world, with 23 karat gold flakes. Fudge sauce of dark cocoa, cream, blackberry schnapps and tamarisk honey. You know you want some.

Seven Years to the Day

2009-04-01T05:13:00.000-07:00

I wish you hadn't been alone

and that my sister hadn't been the one to find you

sometimes it's funny that you died on April Fool's Day

and sometimes it seems like spite

I never understood your longing to be gone from this earth

to return to the stars

I didn't understand a lot about you

but enough to know

that the path of motherhood was not your first best destiny

that you loved us as best you could

but in your heart of hearts

we were not the life you would have chosen if you had been just a bit braver

but for myself and my sisters

I'm glad you chose the path you did

And while you are off flying free

the way you always wished to be

I will remember you

with the tangled mess of feelings

that seem inevitable between mother and daughter

with fire and air for you

with water and earth for me

a candle and incense

while I kneel in the snow or the rain that will fall today

and add a plant to the round patch of earth

that still has your pink flamingo in it.

omg omg omg!

2009-03-28T19:02:00.000-07:00

Get ready for some major food geekage.

1) Our Molotov Pineapple truffle rocked the Colorado dinner at the Jame Beard House. My darling Chef Instructor Amy was the dessert goddess ,and asked us to contribute the truffles for the mignardise plate. Feedback is we were a major hit, with people marveling at the complexity of the confection. It's Chef's formula, but I made that batch. From swiping the molds with colored cocoa butter to putting them in their little paper cups - it was all me. Yes, I am proud.

2) Food Network is filming some Challenges down in Centennial over the next week or so. Yesterday's was a chocolate challenge. Jacques Torres (whom I adore - I used to watch his show and in addition to being a magician with chocolate, he is also one of those classy chefs who thinks teaching what he knows to others is a sacred duty) is in town, and has been introduced to

Wen Chocolates through one of Will's contacts. By now, Jacques Torres has probably eaten something that I made. I am swooning.

3) Yesterday morning, three of Duff Goldman's assistants were in the shop, raving about how much they love our stuff. Yes, the folks from Ace of Cakes know who we are. This is one of the few times I've been sad that our kitchen and our shop are not in the same location. If they were, then I would know who they were, unlike our shop maven, Steven, who had absolutely no idea.

It could have been Mary Alice! Or Geoff! We just don't know! AAAARGH! But, they know who we are, and they love our chocolates! Yay!

4) Friday, we are providing the dessert for the IACP dinner hosted by Cook Street School of Fine Cooking, as well as truffles for a few associated parties. I will post photos.

Spring Equinox, aka Ostara

2009-03-19T21:27:00.000-07:00

Praise to the Spring
Praise to All Living Things
Praise to the Maiden and the Joy that She brings
Praise to the Earth
Let All the Creatures Now Sing
Hope is Renewed
With the Coming of the Spring!

Ostara, by Lisa Thiel

Driving with the top down

2009-03-15T21:31:00.000-07:00

Eyes closed

Face upturned toward the sun

Hair whipping in the wind

Music pounding in my blood

As we drive with the top down

My mind empties

There is nothing but the wind the sun the music the sensation

I am flying sitting still

This

Is today's meditation

It's a dirty job.....

2009-03-12T15:30:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we didn't line the square mold
and the brownie batter flowed underneath onto the sheet pan.
It still baked up nicely, but not pretty enough for sale
So we had to eat them
Still warm, intensely chocolately, a touch of coffee,
And a bit fudgy in the center.
So this morning we lined the mold.
The recipe calls for 2 ounces of 'dark liquor of choice'
Today we're using Guiness in the deep chocolate brownies
And Guiness does not come in a 2 ounce bottle.
Which means there are leftovers
Which means that at 10:30 in the morning
Chef and I are having a toast.
Oh, I really hate this job, we say,
smiling. F'n pastry.
When a truffle breaks
or the lavender sea-salt coin cracks
Oh, no, you have to eat it
Oh, nooooo, I hate this job
The words belied by the smile
the closing and fluttering of eyelids
as chocolate and spices dance over the tastebuds.
Pastry.
It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.
Fortunately, that someone is me.

Ode to a Braw Lassie

2009-03-08T15:16:00.000-07:00

It takes guts to play an instrument in public, especially when one isn't very good. Especially when that instrument is the bagpipes.

But there she was, in the park, next to the parking lot, playing her heart out for all to hear. Faint at first, I thought the music was coming from someone's car stereo. It grew steadily louder as we walked along the sidewalk between the lot and the creek. Slow and melancholy, the tune was haunting, at odds with the bright sunny day. I was enjoying it, when suddenly the piper had some trouble and a strangled bleating momentarily derailed the tune. She picked right back up though, and kept going bravely on, despite the unintended squeaks and squawks. I was impressed. Not with her skill, which was spotty, but with her courage and audacity at playing a highly conspicuous and notoriously difficult instrument out in full view and hearing of all passersby. As someone who tends to be invisible, I admire that.

The Indignities Continue....

2009-03-03T19:32:00.000-08:00

I ask you, does anything in this case say "ballerina cake for a three-year-old"? Do any of these elegant, decadent, chocolate drenched and sometimes boozy cakes suggest toddlers or ballerinas?

I suppose it's a compliment that parents want a cake from us rather than the grocery store. I suppose it's great that parents are encouraging palate development at a young age. But a ballerina cake? For a toddler? Ack. It's so not what we do, so not what we are known for. Ballerinas. WTF.

I have some ideas. I want it to be pretty, something that won't be a source of shame. Just because she's three doesn't mean she has bad taste.

Defending My Honor

2009-02-23T17:12:00.000-08:00

Today I learned that recently several people have come into the shop and accused us of purchasing our truffles from other chocolatiers. And from Whole Foods. I wrote these people off as ignorant. Yes, there are some molds that we have in common. Given that a finite variety of molds are manufactured, it's inevitable that cool and attractive molds will be used by more than one chocolatier. It's the fillings that sets us apart; it's what's inside that counts. We do not now, nor have we ever, purchased truffles from our competitors.

But today, Chef told me that someone came into the shop and told the counter person that we obviously bought our cakes from Gateaux and were trying to pass them off as our own. As the person who makes most of our cakes, this idiotic notion insults my craftsmanship, my professional pride and my personal and our company honor. For about twenty minutes, a righteous smiting seemed like a reasonable option. I considered adding twit-en-brochette to the menu. ( that's fancy for ninny on a skewer).

I have nothing against Gateaux. They do beautiful work. Beautiful work that is completely different from anything that we do at Wen. In a twisted, nit-wit kind of way, I suppose it's a compliment, although it clearly was not intended as such.

It's a few hours later. I can see the funny side of it. I no longer want to run the impugners through with the point of my sword. I'd be happy just spanking them with the flat of it.

A tempting tease of spring

2009-02-16T14:33:00.001-08:00

February 16th. Denver, Colorado. Sunny skies, temperatures in the low sixties. Oh yes. Low sixties.

And......as a reward for working ten days straight for Valentine's production, I have President's Day off. I don't remember the last job I had where this was an observed holiday.

So after a leisurely morning, Puppy and I went on a two hour ramble through Prospect Park. And then came home and spent a couple of hours basking on a blanket in the backyard. After scooping the poop and putting Kittyman on his harness and string.

He is not especially bright, hence the restraints when he's outside.

Robins and chickadees hopped through the yard for his entertainment, and a squirrel chittered furiously for a good fifteen minutes.

The sun was warm and bright, the breeze was soft, and birdsong never ceased.

On the north side of the yard are the remants of Saturday's snow. In the center, tiny crocus are beginning to pop through the ground.

I planted lots of spring bulbs last fall. I'm curious to see how many of them survived the squirrels.

I have a desperate urge to start planting. An urge that must be squelched, as spring is still months away, no matter what the calendar says. Mid-May is about the time to start planting here. By then, the frosts are over. Unless they're not. One never knows. There could be a blizzard tomorrow. Or another taste of spring.

Musings on a holiday

2009-02-08T06:17:00.000-08:00

And so, my children, Valentine was martyred for performing marriages after the emperor of Rome banned marriage on the grounds that marriage made men weak and ineffective as soldiers. In Valentine's honor, the Church co-opted the Festival of Lupercalia (fertility, wolves, general merriment and frolicking) which eventually led to the holiday we know as Valentine's Day.

A day which rivals Christmas in consumerism and Easter in its wtf-ness. So,....Jesus and Valentine were killed, and we celebrate this with chocolate and jelly beans and bunnies and sparkly things? Yes. Yes we do. I have nothing against chocolate or jelly bean or bunnies or sparkly things - ok, maybe there are some bizarre flavors of jelly beans I could do without, but other than that, I like chocolate and bunnies and sparkly things.

The major Christian holidays have many Pagan elements to them, which works well for Christmas, but is majorly confusing for Easter. Crucifixion and fluffy bunnies and colored eggs and candy? Death and fertility at the same time? At a really cosmic level that works, but on the surface - wtf?

Which brings me back to Valentine's Day. A day that builds ridiculous expectations and pressures, much like Christmas, but is focused on one relationship rather than all relationships. A day of enforced sentiment and outward display. It reminds me of Ming the Merciless "All citizens will make merry. Upon pain of death". You will be romantic, and you will show romance by buying dinner, flowers, candy and jewels, because we say so. If you don't do this, you are a bad person. If no one does this for you, you are worthless.

I say this while profiting from this holiday - people like to buy extra-fancy chocolates, and I provide them. The kitchen is running two weeks straight to meet the demand. Piracy must be in my blood. I won't be starting a social revolution over it, or run around chanting "make everyday Valentine's Day" or trying to abolish the crass commercialism of the holiday. I'll just be making candy for the people who are into being romantic on cue. Maybe that's my real problem - I don't like being told how to feel or how to express my feelings.

However, February is a dreary month; a holiday is a marvelous idea. Maybe we should bring back Lupercalia......

Just Before It Bursts Into Flames

2009-01-22T15:14:00.000-08:00

There's a fearlessness that's required for making a good caramel sauce, a willingness to dance on the line of disaster, a sense of that split second before deliciously dark and bitter becomes 'Help! Fire!'. The photo on the right - that's where the timid stop, if they make it that far. Add the cream at this point and you end up with a namby-pamby pale, overly sweet goo. You might as well just buy a jar of Kraft.

The color you see in the pot is deceptive, it looks darker than it really is. You can test it with a spoon or a twist of paper, but even then, it's not the best way to know. The best way, the exciting way, is to wait for the smoke. Not a faint wisp, but some serious smoke rolling across the boiling sugar. Today the smoke went from a bit to filling the kitchen within a couple of seconds. I poured in the cream and the rich dark smell filled the room. The smoke slowly dissipated (I'd forgotten the new hood has an amazing exhaust system) as I stirred the lump into a smooth sauce. Hours later, when it had cooled enough to taste, Chef pronounced it the best batch I've ever made. He said I'd learned the secret - cook the sugar until about one minute and fortyfive seconds before it bursts into flame. Add the cream to stop the cooking, stir until smooth. Add the other ingredients.
Take your caramel to the bitter edge, wrap it in dark chocolate. Add a few grains of good salt.
Pop it into your mouth, bite through the chocolate shell and let the liquid caramel engulf your senses. Surrender completely.

Onehundred blog entries

2009-01-17T17:34:00.000-08:00

I've been procrastinating about writing, because it's my onehundreth post, and I thought it should be about something important. On the other hand, why should this be any less inconsequential than my other posts? So, here's more of the same rambling nonsense.

Thanks to a Solstice bonus (my Chef is pagan too), I ventured into the modern world and bought myself an ipod. Ginger went with me as tech advisor. I find technology so much easier to understand when I just do what Ginger says. The ipod nano (in turquoise blue) has to be one of the most marvelous gadgets ever. iTunes is also really groovy. I downloaded an album by Gabrielle Roth - the songs had the same titles as the cassette tape, but turned out to be completely different songs. I emailed itunes - they are looking into it, and have given me 5 songs worth of credit to make up for the 'disappointment'. So, yay.

I've been playing around on Facebook a lot. Hi, my name is Kate, and I'm a flair-aholic. I have 45 pieces of flair. I'm comfortable talking about my flair. Flair is fun. I like it for the same reason I like getting books through the library website. There's the fun of searching and the thrill of acquisition, at no actual cost. Also, there's the fun of sending flair to friends.

We're having a break from winter here. While much of the country is enduring record-breaking cold, here in Denver it's sunny and mild. Monday started with a snowstorm that tied the city into knots, but by afternoon, the sun was back and the snow was melting. Typical. February will be much colder. It's our coldest month. April tends to be the snowiest. Then May comes, and no one knows from one day to the next what the weather will do. Hopefully the second weekend will be pleasant. Najah and I are going to Beltania 2009 - my first-ever pagan festival.

Lunar Fire will be playing, so the mad dancing will keep us warm no matter how cold the night might be.

At work, we've rearranged the kitchen into its most functional formation ever. It's fantastic.

Valentine's Day is approaching, new confections are being introduced (two infused with a 17th century spice blend that is a reputed aphrodisiac) and we are entered into a fundraiser/competition on February 10th. The event benefits Third Way Center, an organization that helps teens and young adults with emotional problems. This year, we are entering two truffles, the new and exciting Molotov Pineapple, and my very own creation, the Oshun. My intern and I will be running our booth, while Chef joins pastry chefs James Gallo of the Brown Palace Hotel and Keegan Gerhard of Food Network on the judging panel. There is also the People's Choice award, so if you have nothing to do that night, come down to Say It With Chocolate and vote. For Wen Chocolates. Otherwise, just stay home ;).

My resolutions for the new year were be more mindful of what I eat, and to spend less time sitting around. So, to that end I re-enrolled in Ai Chi (it's as if I never left), started a belly dance class, and this morning I did yoga for the first time in I don't know how long. The dvd was filmed on a beach on Maui.....lush green hills in the distance, gently rolling waves, a warm breeze blowing through the trees. I remembered that amazing scent of fragrant plumeria blending with the tang of the ocean......and for a few moments I wanted so desparately to be back there, floating in the sea, watching the fish and the sea turtles. Sometimes I feel so landlocked here. Other times, when I look up at the moutains, I know that I am home.

I have to surrender the computer now. Bevin has a Skype date with Laura. Indonesia seems to be agreeing with Laura, in spite of the rain, the mud, the snakes......

Questions and Soup

2009-01-06T05:20:00.000-08:00

Re: 2008 survey

What were your favorite purchase(s)?

I just got an 8 gig Ipod Nano (thanks for your help Ginger!), but that will have to wait for 2009's list, because I bought it Sunday.

2008 - definitely the slow-cooker. Paired with the immersion blender we already had, it's a culinary tour-de-force. Ah, the immersion blender.....when a recipe calls for putting soups or sauces through a blender or foodprocessor in small batches - ha ha! No! Just put your trusty immersion blender into the pot, turn it on, and puree away. No mess, no drips, no extra dishes.

Last night's creation has been dubbed 'stuff what we done got' soup. Lentils, tomato, onion, garlic, leftover butternut squash, a shake of lemongrass curry, a heaping pinch of aleppo pepper, a few allspice berries, salt, pepper, a pinch of ginger, and three rather sad looking bay leaves. (note to self - stop household from buying bay leaf at the grocery store. go to savory spice instead). After simmering away for eight hours, it was broth with veg floating in it. After meeting the immersion blender......thick & creamy, with a few chunks left for textural interest.

It was good. And nutritious. And filling. Lentils are good that way.

What did you purchase that cost $500 or more?

Car repairs. Twice. My car is a '95, it has about 140,000 miles on it. When it goes, I'll be riding the bus.

What sporting events did you attend?

A Rockies game, with my friend Najah. The beer was good (Blue Moon Harvest Ale), the food was fun, people watching was excellent, and we watched the full moon rise over the stadium. Oh, and the Rockies lost. Big time.

Get married or divorced?

Have we met?

Change your hairstyle?

Constantly. Right now I have an intense red, short, anime sort of thing going on......but I miss my barettes, so I may grow it back out.

What were your favorite moment(s) of 2008

Reconnecting with old friends, making new ones, solo vacations, horseback riding up (and down!) a very steep mountain, going to the same parks often enough to see the changes as the year went by,playing dressup at Samhain and a masquerade ball.

What's something you learned about yourself?

That taking risks is usually not fatal.

What was your status by Valentine's Day?

Exhausted. Truffle production was hellacious, because Valentine's is a last-minute sort of holiday. It always seems to take people by surprise......

What concerts/shows did you go to?

Lunar Fire - techno-tribal-rap with belly dancers, fire twirlers, lights on strings and fabulous masks and costumes. It was awesome :) Also, my sister's play and the Santaland Diaries.

What are you wishing for in 2009?

Tougher sentencing for parole violators, Stan. And world peace.

Seriously, I want to get rid of my useless hang-ups and inhibitions, and do more with my stifled creativity.

Been naughty or nice?

Absolutely.

flotsam

2009-01-04T05:48:00.000-08:00

Forgive me blog, for I have sinned. It's been eleven days since my last entry. I could blame it on working crazy hours, but the truth is I'm in a place of having nothing to say. Nothing worthwhile, anyway. Just a litany of aches and distractions that punctuate a vast sea of swirling thoughts that resist capture and examination.
I'm on a weeklong break from work, and am forcing myself to rest. It doesn't come naturally, my left brain keeps coming up with a list of tasks that my right brain, being preoccupied with dreams and tarot and fairy tales and wondering what nox invictus means refuses to do, resulting in a rather foggy state of being in which nothing seems to get accomplished and my trains of thought all get derailed.
There are little sparks here and there. I'm not depressed, it's more of a suspension, being caught in a push-pull that prevents movement.
I'm wondering how well a Monday through Friday schedule will work out; there are definite advantages, but the downside is losing a day to myself. I miss that already.
Last night I dreamt that I was living back home with my family. I felt trapped, and kept rearranging my room in an attempt to get a sense of personal space. I was also going to work. We finally had a kitchen, but there was an explosion of red frosting which was a huge mess to clean up.
I'm on vacation, but I still wake up around 5am, and am unable to make myself go back to sleep, or even just rest quietly, as my Mom used to say.
Yesterday I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, a movie about wonder and time and loss and windows of opportunity and following your star and it made me think of all the things I haven't done and the chances I didn't take and I was feeling a deep sadness. Toward the end, a character who had tried and failed to swim the English Channel in her youth tried again at the age of 68. Tried and succeeded. And my sadness lessened.
It did what the best movies do - take you into another world in which you can meet yourself in a new way.

nox invictus : night unconquerable
The online translator is very helpful in a limited way. It doesn't tell you what the phrase means, and a search was fruitless, just links to myspace, gamers, some poetry, and a herpetological society. It tells you that nox is night, or Nox, the primordial goddess of night, and that invictus means unconquered, unconquerable, or invincible.

Enough rambling for now. Coffee awaits.

Holiday Pastry Madness 2008

2008-12-23T18:58:00.000-08:00

These are our spiffy new cases.

11 straight days of 10-13 hour days.

Here's Saturday's pile o'cakes - all made by yours truly.

There are no photos of the thousands of truffles we've gone through in the last two weeks.

Here's what we did today. 11 regular cakes, 12 Battenburgs and 3 Buche de Noels. It will take a parade to get everything down to the shop.

Tomorrow, we take all our cakes and all our truffles down to the store. Then we come back and deep clean the kitchen. And then go home. We're off on Christmas. I haven't looked forward to Christmas this much since I was about 5.