Thursday, May 31, 2007

The frogs aren't talking--but I know where the bodies are

You have found me at the coffee shop rather than the porch. It's a little hot for the porch right now. Asheville is droughting. (I hear Phoenix, which doesn't have the run-off infrastructure, is getting our rain.) I know where the bodies of several hundred tadpoles are entombed in what used to be a pond at the Arboretum parking lot.

It'll cool down by evening though. The blessing of elevation. I'll open the windows & let the summer night blow through. Too bad screens won't keep mosquitoes & wasps out & let fireflies in. It would be fun to have a house full of fireflies. Of course, I don't have the vegetation for that. A meadow in the living room would be a lot of work. Plus I'd then want to put a pond in & begin a tadpole rescue operation. I doubt the downstairs neighbors would like that. ("Um, Laurel, your tadpoles are dripping through the light fixtures again...")

I just signed up to go to my 30-year class reunion. Also there's an all-school reunion where my dad & cousins & aunts & uncle went to school. So I have a couple trips to Montana planned. Probably only drive one of them.

My meditation session this morning rocked! Perhaps the best ever so far. The key was a tip from a friend about relaxing into whatever it is you're going for, which means you're not going for it at all, but letting yourself be there. For example, the thought/feeling I let flow through me this morning was
with ease & grace
I relax into my power, my knowing, my health, my affluence, my true self
body, mind, heart & soul
Since I didn't start out as a good visualizer, I used to really try to latch on to images when I did get them--which of course made them go ffftt! Now I realize all comes in in its own time & am much more relaxed about it, which means images come more easily & hang around longer.

Blog alternative:
53. Look up what your name means, if you don't already know. If you don't like the meaning, come up with an alternate meaning. If you don't like your name, come up with a secret true name. Share it with a true friend. Or maybe change it for real.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007


I'm out on the front porch again. It's a busy street, but I don't mind. Someone is pounding on something & my downstairs neighbor is talking on the phone--I can kinda sorta hear her through her screened open window. I'm not listening. There are many birds I don't know the names of, and mourning doves, which I do, obviously. Birdchick would not be proud of me. (Hi Sharon.) But I did see an indigo bunting at the Arboretum a few weeks ago, so fabulously electrically blue it was worth figuring out, so perhaps she'll forgive me.

A woman with bright red (cherry koolaid red) hair just walked a leashless dog past on the sidewalk. Asheville folk love their dogs. That is to my advantage, since it was pet-sitting that brought me here.

I'm feeling a certain amount of inertia right now, lounging here with my feet up. Inner-Shhh. Of course, that only works for the "tendency of a body at rest to stay at rest" sort of inertia, rather than the "tendency of a body in motion to stay in motion" sort, but I'll keep it anyway. Inner-Shhhh. Stillness. Silence of the self. I was just working on the beginning of a story, oddly enough in pencil, in a yellow college-ruled spiral-bound notebook. (I know, Cathy. Lines! It's me, though. I haven't been abducted by aliens. Or maybe I have & I just think I'm still me.)

Anyway, I'm going to sit here for a while, just quietly, & then try to get the other sort of inertia going long enough to get to the 24/7 internet coffee shop to post this & back home again. (Shh! Don't tell my inner porch potato; she'll stage a sit-in.)

Blog alternative:
52. Wash some dishes by hand & enjoy it. Warm soapy water, clean rinsing, towel or drip dry.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

That new TV show "I Love Dick Cheney"

Sitting out on my big old front porch--the whole width of the house--in a ratty old papa-san chair with bare feet up on a little table. Beautiful southern summer evening. That pleasant place between warm & cool, with a slight breeze stirring the trees & playing with my toes. Nummy. I just ate a bowl of grapefruit with plain yogurt & salt, a recipe I got from a Utah poet friend while on a poetry retreat in Ireland September of 2005. I went from there to 3 weeks in Paris & I had grapefruit & yogurt for breakfast most mornings.

I got back from Wiscon yesterday afternoon. A friend picked me up in Charlotte & we had breakfast at Waffle House (love them grits!) before heading back to Asheville. It is good to be home, but did I ever have a splendid time at Wiscon.

A few highlights in no particular order:
  • the tiptree auction, where Ellen was auctioning off a pair of black pants with rocket ships on them & said something on the order of "the only people who could wear these are Laurie Winter & 12-year-old boys." I had just walked into the room, so I went up & tried them on & danced around on the stage a little. There are pictures--possibly even movies--on the web.
  • Lady Poetesses from Hell, which was one of our finest performances. (With me were Ellen Klages, John Rezmerski, Elise Mathesen, Rebecca Marjesdatter & Terry Garey.)
  • a panel on reworking the metaphors with which we live our life, rather than the war on drugs/terrorism/war/etc in which I said, at one point, without irony, "I have tremendous love & compassion for Dick Cheney..." (Hey, when you're made of out infinite, eternal, immeasurable love, you can give all of it away every moment to everyone & still have all of it left to give!) Both the other panelists & the audience had lots of good things to say.
  • a panel on decluttering, where a group of us discussed what clutter was & ways to deal with it. A couple of things I offered: One) Come up with a new metaphor for the way you think of things, rather than scarcity & the fear that you'll need it if you get rid of it, think of catch-and-release fishing or the idea that things are not yours but only share your existence for a time and then move on. Two) Imagine your home is a garage sale. Would you choose that couch & arrange to borrow a friend's truck to get it home? If not, call up a charity to pick it up so you'll have a couch-shaped hole in your living room that will be filled with something you actually WANT.
  • the dessert banquet, with guest-of-honor speeches & Tiptree awards presentation. I sat with some friends for dessert, then moved to the table where my other jurors & the winners were sitting for the ceremony part. I got to put fabulous tiaras on the winners and hand them their chocolates & such. (I also gave a couple people at my table who were nervous about their speeches a little calming energy medicine.)
  • parties & meals & random encounters in hallways with many lovely people, both old friends and new.
  • talking to editors (my fabulous paperback editor, who is up to her eyeballs in everything, is passing my novel on to one of her colleagues, and another editor asked me to send him a YA novel, so that's going to be fun)
and lots of other things, but time to get back to my southern summer evening.

Blog alternative:
51. Sit outside with your feet up on something & try to figure out what the birds are telling you.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Add tadpole & Voila! Lake Living Room

From a corner room of the 12th floor of the Concourse Hotel in Madison, Wisconsin, I greet you. There's a thunderstorm moving in & Lake Mendota (or is it Monona?) is looking frisky. The Wiscon crew has begun to trickle in. By tonight it will be a bluster & Friday it will be a flood. Sweet, sweet Wiscon! How I missed you last year.

A giant Mouat family reunion pre-empted Wiscon 30. I had a tremendously wonderful time. There were 54 family members & assorted & sundry neighbors & friends. Music galore. At one point, in Grandma Arla & Grandpa Jimmy's little old house, there were 5 guitars, a banjo, a mandolin, a piano, a saxophone & 3 fiddles. Not all being played at the same time, but most of them most of the time. It rocked--& countried & gospelled... It was not to be missed & worth missing Wiscon for, but I did put the family on alert that Memorial Day weekend was NOT the time to be scheduling future reunions, if they wanted to assure my continued attendance. (I gave enough shoulder rubs & energy treatments & was just generally my shining wonderful self that I'm sure they do want me around. Grin.)

But, here I am, at Wiscon 31. Over--& after--breakfast in the Governor's Club this morning a smattering of us Wiscon-ites had fabulous discussions on living in online communities vs. getting out of the house, political savvy vs. clogging your soul's arteries with the woes of the world, Franco's train (plus a brass band) to celebrate writers in Spain, graceful ways to review/blurb or leave the door open to get out of doing so, & many other wonderful things I am too lazy to remember.

I need to "egress" the blog & try to deprogram the alarm clock, which thought we ought to get up at 6:50 a.m. & would not shut up about it. Generally I speak clock radio quite well, but this one has an obscure dialect, so it could take a while.

Blog alternative turns 50!
50. Think about all the lakes you've been to & pick one to remember fondly. Go to a lake. Or a pond. Or a puddle. If you don't have a puddle, put a bowl of water in the middle of the living room (or some other room that could use a body of water) & sit down next to your micro lake for a picnic.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Stella Dallas vs. Big Lucy Lou: who would win?

A walk in the arboretum.

Part of it was a forced march, because I could tell I had a date with a porta-potty. (I know; TMI.) But it was a lovely day, mid 70s, with a breeze, & more of those star bell flowers were out. I was still wondering what they were & then there were more right at the arboretum & there was a sign &


Mountain Laurel!

My favorite flowers are named after me. Or vice versa, more likely. How cool is that? (Actually, my mom, who should know, tells me I'm named after Stella Dallas's daughter from the old radio show. But she is no doubt named after the flower, so I'm actually related, although once removed.)

One of the baristas, who is just getting off shift, is texting his wife. That reminds me of a conversation with one of the sushi girls, from earlier in the month, in which I related that I am too old to text. I am convinced that this is the dividing line, with all others (gender, race, political affiliation, etc.) being meaningless:

Do you text, thumbs flying over the itty bitty keypad of your phone, or the ittier bittier (but more numerous) keys of your Blackberry? Or do you rather laboriously enter the names of your friends when you store their numbers on the cell phone, sometimes passing the right letter a couple times & having to cycle through choices again?

I, of course, am in the older generation. There are older texters & younger I'd-so-much-rather-callers, & I don't know exactly the age point on the bell curve where the switch happens, but happen it does. Someone should do a survey. Someday, all us old fogeys will be standing around helplessly with our phones in our hands & our Bermuda shorts pulled up to our breastbones, waiting for a young un with a massively-developed thumb to happen by & text someone to pick us up from the bingo parlor. (Because the last time we tried it ourselves, we got a take-out order of dolmades & a streetwalker named Big Lucy Lou who would not take no for an answer--& did not take American Express.)

Blog alternative:
49. Pick (as in choose) a favorite flower & perhaps--if it doesn't get you arrested--pick one.

Friday, May 18, 2007

New organizers (with cedar inserts) for the monsters under the bed

Oh, the joys of organization! My home is so much more welcoming & wonderful now. My executive assistant worked for & with me yesterday & today. (Plus we had lunch together & visited as well.) Now all the artwork has been moved from the entryway. (Feng shui people would be proud of me. Probably. I might have the personal relationship stuff in the money corner & vice versa.) Stacks of paper have been looked at & sorted & even (partially, at least) dealt with. I bought new underbed storage units (with cedar inserts!) at Bed, Bath & Beyond. Yay me! Yay us! Yay Universe! (& Yay You, too, for good measure!) (Yay exclamation points!) (Yay parentheses!) (Etcetera!)

I will not linger long at the keyboard. Time to get out into the nice brisk world. (Earlier, it was right around my favorite temperature if you remember what that is. Now it's about 56 degrees.) I love it when spring feels like spring & doesn't leap right into summer.

Great little meditation phrase I used this morning:
All that is I, let it grow.
All that is not, let it go.

Blog alternative
48. Look at your furniture to see if it is all where you want it. If not, rearrange something.
(& a bonus blog alternative alternative)
(Alternatively, look at your furniture to see if you want it. If not, get rid of something.)

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Green lattice octagon gazebo--say it fast 3 times

Today I saw Carl Sandberg's home at Flat Rock. When I saw the first information sign at the lake, I cried. Didn't tour the house today--will save that for later. Today it was a walking, lying on a flat rock meditating, writing poetry, photographing some flowers that start as stars and end as bells, sort of day. There's a wonderful green lattice octagon gazebo that is just the most fabulous place to meditate.

While walking down the path, I saw the little "rain speed bumps" (my dad who built mountain roads would call them kelly humps--don't know if you use the same terminology for paths) with little channels going off to the side to divert the accumulated water so it would not erode the path. It occurred to me that this is a valuable analogy: you can block things off, but if you don't provide means to get rid of the water/stress/whatever, eventually your little (or big) dam will bust.

And then it occurred to me
(drum roll for philosophy of the day)
exactly where you are,
using the metaphors and analogies of the moment
(everything I know I learned in kindergarten, from cats, walking paths, etcetera)
you can learn everything.
Or nothing.

Blog alternative:
47. Sketch out the floor plan for your dream house. (Doesn't have to be a mansion in the expansive sense of the word. I'm guessing my dream house is around a thousand square feet.)

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Note to self: bowling ball unnecessary

Days & days later, she blogs again. Been too busy doing things to blog about! Hope you've all been too busy doing things to wonder where the heck I was.

A short list of the above:
  • got paid $100 to clean the clothes from my closet
  • visited a friend at her housesit in Raleigh & slept in a room where the closet had about the same square footage as the room I shared with my 2 sisters & (for a little while) my baby brother (& any stray visiting grandmothers & such)
  • walked around the fab campus at Chapel Hill
  • visited my new state capital
  • ate at a fancy restaurant that was the home of the McGovern campaign in 1972
  • petted Persian kitties
  • gave an energy treatment to a 30-yr-old yoga-teacher-turned-law-student (lovely young woman with pigtails & a nose ring) in a Durham coffee shop
  • went to a mother's day party with 2 kinds of cake & homemade peach ice cream
  • met a wonderful 7-yr-old who speaks 4 languages
  • got my bed put together (thanks to my friend Derrick, who has power tools & a pick-up!) so I am no longer sleeping on a mattress on the floor
  • talked to my sons & my mom & dad (mother's day, of course)
  • arranged a flight to (& from) Wiscon
& now off to do more stuff, including but not limited to:
  • painting
  • working on a new picture book idea
  • various & sundry screenplays
  • depositing checks & paying utility bills
  • further putting (& throwing) away of possessions & papers
but first this:

I was going to drive to Wiscon, with a stop in Oberlin to pick up Nick's desktop computer so it could take a short tour to Minnesota with me before I dropped it off at his summer job, but I thought about getting in the car--as much as I love it & as much as I love driving--& I went "WAAAAH!" It seems I just got back from a thousand miles away. But, I had planned to do it, so I was going to. Then I was visiting my friend in Raleigh & I felt the barest beginning of this little tickly cough & I thought, "Oh! If I get sick I won't be able to drive--" & I stopped that thought & instead thought, "If you don't want to drive, you don't have to drive & you don't have to get sick to change your plans." The little tickly cough went away instantly & I found a great plane reservation & a friend from Milwaukee (who I wanted to see anyway) is going to give me rides to & from the airport & it will actually be cheaper than driving with current gas prices. Plus I'll only be away from home for 6 days. I'll get to see my Minnesota friends & relatives another time. Nick will have to make some other computer arrangement, which he is perfectly capable of & willing to do (Thanks, Nick.) & I'll visit him later, when he's settled in at work & can show me around.

and now, what you've been waiting for!
Blog alternative:
46. Go back into the dim, dusty recesses of your memory banks & come up with a memory of a time when you didn't want to do something & you let yourself get sick or locked your keys in the car or some other
oh, goody--I mean,
oh darn,
now I don't have to--I mean
do that thing I didn't want to do in the first place"
Tell yourself
"Self, I'm sorry. Next time I don't have to drop that bowling ball on my foot for an excuse to honor you."

(Okay, so I cheated. That's really a hybrid philosophy/blog alternative. Blogalternosophy?)

P.S. You get extra brownie points if you don't have any such memories.
P.P.S. Unless the only reason is that your memory is really, really bad. Grin.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Burn this letter

Gotta make this quick.
Writing a letter to my mama.
Mother's day is Sunday.
No way she'll get her envelope by then.
But I talked to her for more than an hour yesterday
(lovely visit)
and she assured me she'd survive.

All my clothes fit in my closets! I took a big batch to Goodwill and an even bigger batch to this cool clothing store on Lexington, Madame Butterfly. Told the fabulous proprietress that I didn't need lots o' cash, just wanted the clothes to be out there in the world, where other thrifty funky fashion chicks would find them. Might get myself trade credit for the occasional new prom dress for science fiction conventions. It'll be a blast.

Okay, now the letter to my mama. See ya.

Blog alternative:
45. Write a letter to your mama, even if she lives next door, or even if she no longer lives. Tell her something you're grateful for. (That's going to be easy with my mama, but I know it's more of a challenge for some mamas. Even something about the strength you gained for dealing with the world by dealing with her is something to be grateful for.) Send the letter. Of course, not every mama is reachable by postal service. Maybe you don't know who your mama is, for example. Or maybe she's no longer walking this planet. For those no-known-address mamas, you can send the letter by burning it, or reading it out loud under a tree or in a quiet corner.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

But what about this fringy leather vest...

I had all these clothes in my generous closet space in Rochester, Minnesota. I'd gone through them with kindly critical friends (from "That is so mom of twins." to "Very hot--I don't care if you like it or not, you're wearing it!) over the years. Since I've stayed about the same size, I'd collected lots of fun clothes. But, too much of anything is not good. (Example: on Friday night, when we were getting close to the end of our meal, one of my friends said, "I'm beginning to feel oppressed by the sushi.")

When I came to Asheville last August, I brought 6 months worth of clothes. When I decided to stay, I called my downstairs neighbor and told her a few more things I wanted and asked her to sell and give away everything else. It was very freeing!

Except--the places in Rochester wanted everything steam cleaned and possibly hermetically sealed and then my neighbor had to leave for Thailand unexpectedly, so the clothes got dumped in my ex-husband's house in three black plastic garbage bags for me to deal with later.

Later is now. I hauled them back from Minnesota and they've been riding around in my car until today. Today I lugged them upstairs and went through them, to decide which ones would go to Goodwill and which to the place that will actually give me a few bucks for them. And--as I suspected--I found myself with a third pile: oh! I might want this. Maybe...

So, now I am going to enlist more friends to help me sort that pile down further. My closet space here is much leaner, we'll call it. This is a good thing. I don't need nearly that many clothes. Enough is BETTER than a feast.

Blog alternative:
44. Play gin rummy with a friend.

Monday, May 7, 2007

30 years ago: Baby philosopher massacres punctuation

Omigosh, did I make an interesting (to me at least; grin) discovery last night. My executive assistant came over to have a cup of tea & visit & borrow a cell phone with lots of extra minutes available for some morning calls. We were talking about keeping things you wanted & getting rid of things you didn't & occasionally getting rid of things you did want--for example, every one of her school papers. So I grabbed a box that we'd unearthed (or unboxed at least) last week, to show her some of my old treasured papers. In it was this, which I will reproduce, occasional funky punctuation & all. (I apologize in advance for the lengthy post.) Note the date: this was written when I was a senior in high school, a month & 2 days past my 18th birthday...

5/24/77 read "Lost Horizon". am fascinated by the philosophies. am intrigued by the tea ceremony. moderation is the key.

I have read several philosophies "Walden", "Siddhartha", "Lost Horizon", "Walden Two". parts of each one capture my own longings. I would like to put together, write, and live my own philosophy. It would be a lifetime chore. I'm sure I could do it, but in places it would go slow. That is good for the writing of a philosophy anyway, and especially for the living of it. A beginning, maybe not the beginning, but a beginning.

A Beginning

Avoid excessive worrying; almost any worry is in excess of what is necessary. Also, deviate from the normal, accepted path if it serves your purpose. Use time wisely; enjoy it; savor each second. Train not only your eyes and other senses, but your hands and mind; you need to do and appreciate what your senses give you; to accept it fully; to get all out of it and put all into it. Do not be afraid to change--your life, your philosophy, your home--what was important to you even five minutes ago may not be as important now. Accept people as they are; be wise to the fact that they may not be as they seem. Take no one for granted, not even yourself. Be enough of a fool to learn and not to stagnate in your wisdom. Show feelings, but mostly, feel. If there is nothing to show you are living an empty life. Do not dictate your life to the standards and expectations of others; live well enough that you can live with yourself comfortably. Define success as it is to you, and seek it, not everyone can be happy in the same place. Tolerate others madness, they are powerless to change yours. A bit of madness makes the world easier to live with. Do not force your opinions on others or allow them to influence your beliefs. Make allowances for the humanness in people, both others and yourself. Nobody's perfect. Don't however, use imperfection as an excuse or pass off a fault.

So, there you have it--what I was thinking when I was 18. Sounds a lot like what I'm thinking now. Funny.

Also yesterday, I put my shelf together. It fits perfectly in the designated space & now Howard (my World Fantasy Award) has his own little shelf to peer myopically from. I set a bottle of wine beside him, which gives him more of an excuse for his bug-eyed expression. Before tackling the assembly, I poured myself a glass of Bison Chocolate Stout, which I first tasted at my friend Amelia's house. That got me thinking fondly of my visit with Amelia & her husband, so I called & told her so. This leads into--

--the Blog alternative:
43. Call an Amelia equivalent (after experiencing a Bison Chocolate Stout equivalent) just to let her/him know fond thoughts were floating around in the ether.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

Batik your way to world peace

More walking, more meditating, blah blah blah. More coffeeshop-ing.

So what's new?

Um, my batik/discharge class! Fun, but totally disorganized. Good thing only two of us (my friend and I) signed up. I don't know how the system would have supported even one more student. (I think the instructor had distracting life stuff going on.) It did reinforce in me that I love batik and need to find a way to do it. Maybe my garage/shed has an outlet in it and I could set up tables and wax and dye and an iron. And I could invite my friends to join me and we could start a cottage industry bringing colored cloth to the world and everyone would be so wowed by the beauty that they'd join in and world peace would--

Maybe I'd better check for that outlet, first. (For lack of a nail, the shoe was lost, etc.)

My recent philosophizing includes the following:
U are the center of your universe. No one else. And you can't be the center of anyone else's, no matter how much they want you to be or think that you are.

Blog alternative:
42. Write a long, messy wish list with your non-dominant hand. See what you didn't know you wanted.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Talking dog reviews billionaire's unwritten novel

I have had the most wonderful meditations today and discussions with wise friends. One of the results is the refining of insight. For example, the issue of millionairity (a few posts back). I realized that in every way that counts, I am as rich as I need to be. This does not mean that I'm not open to being that (on paper) millionaire. On the contrary. I'm planning to enjoy it a great deal. But in the meantime, I'm looking at myself as already being a millionaire--heck, a billionaire.

On the subject of being where you are, including well into the second hour at the DMV. Frequently the only thing we control (at that moment anyway) is our attitude. I had a fine time at the DMV with my computer. The young guy next to me and the older guy next to him were having a great time talking together on the subject of cars. They'd never met before, but they had tons in common and that's probably why each ended up at that particular DMV at that particular time in those particular chairs. The woman on the other side of me, who was not-so-patiently waiting for her son to take his driver's license test, made her own time there a little bit of hell.

I did think today, though, that perhaps I was feeling a bit "enlightened-er-than-thou" rather than actually sharing the wealth with her, by perhaps engaging her in conversation. Not that I feel responsible for uplifting the spirits of the entire universe, but inquiry into who she was may have uplifted both of us.

And during the meditation time here at the coffee shop, just before beginning this missive, I realized that the true nature of my creativity (and any creativity) is to share the beauty, love, peace, joy, strength, wisdom, etcetera in my heart and soul (in any heart and soul). So, after I "hang up" here, I'm going to draw a picture of a woman with a multi-petalled flower in her heart, where every petal is one of those things (love, joy, etcetera) and tendrils come out her fingers and go to a paintbrush and a camera and a computer keyboard and a guitar and etcetera. (The bad thing about being such a blogging Luddite is that I'm not yet to the stage of putting pictures in, so you have to slog through a thousand words to get the idea of the picture. The good thing about being a blogging Luddite is that if my picture turns out terrible none of you will see it!)

I'm having sushi with girlfriends tonight! Yay! And I got to see Sita (my little dog companion of the pet-sitting escapade) as she was out walking with her mom's new renter. She was so excited to see me she talked to me and almost squirmed out of her skin.

Blog alternative:
41. Write a few pages from the middle of an imaginary novel (as my son did for a creative paper) and then review the entire unwritten novel (as he did for the critical paper).

Thursday, May 3, 2007

Free coffee for everyone--just kidding

I know, you've heard it a billion times: No matter where you go, there you are.

But it is true, and bears repeating.

For example, I was at the DMV today, getting my duplicate driver's license with my current address on it. (Don't tell anyone, but I moved into my new apartment more than 30 days ago and hadn't notified the DMV...) It is within the realm of possibility that I'd have put it off longer, but I wanted to get a new, local bank account and figured it would help to have my actual address on the license. I arrived at 9:30 a.m. and was out of there by 11!

Now, to some of you, that may seem like a long time, but it could have been worse, both in length of time spent there, and enjoyment of time spent there. The woman sitting next to me certainly was not happy with her stay. But me? I read the rest of this great novel (The Dragon Queen, written by me, myself and I, and sent off to my editor a couple days ago) which made me laugh out loud in some places and shiver in others. I also worked on my screenplay a little.

When #131 was finally called, I went up to station #1 with everything I thought I'd need: a utility bill for proof of address, driver's license, social security card, cash because the DMV won't take an out-of-state check, even if it has a local address imprinted on it. (One of my reasons for getting a local bank account.) I was getting these things out and mentioned to the friendly woman who was assisting me that my Dripolator coffee card probably wouldn't help and she said, "They have great coffee. Does it have a free one on it?"

I reached into my other pocket and extricated a filled-up card with one free drink left and gave it to her. Made her day! (And it wasn't a bribe, in case the DMV oversight people are monitoring this blog. Grin.)

We had a nice little chat as she was revising my address and she's going to look at my novel and maybe even my blog (hi, nice DMV woman!) and the old adage proves true once again--no matter where you go there you are. An hour and a half at the DMV can be heaven or hell, depending on where your spirit dwells. My friend Mary left me a nice voicemail message saying she hoped I was having a fabulous day, of the sort that I always had and that she was going to call that sort of day a Laurel day. I like that.

So, everyone, have a Laurel day. On me. (I'd give you a free coffee to go with it, but I'm fresh out.)

Breaking news:
Blog alternative turns 40!

40. Look back at old emails and find one from an old friend that you'd meant to respond to. And respond. (She'll appreciate it. (Hi Peggy!))

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Full moon, red wine, dead grandmother

My executive assistant had to come a little late and I had to leave a little early, but still things are looking up in terms of habitability. Plus I love my new painting-in-progress,
which is tentatively called
mountain. angel. flame. (the awakening)

I want to get back to the world, so shall condense

last night
full moon
red wine
porch sitting
great energy

beloved universe
thank you

One of the things that turned up today was a picture of my young beautiful grandmother (Grandma Arla) holding baby me, her first grandchild. I cried and my executive assistant gave me a hug. Though my grandmother is dead, that is a living piece of the past.

Blog alternative
39. Think fondly of a dead relative & send loving thoughts. Then, think fondly of a living relative (or friend) & send loving thoughts--by phone, or on paper, or even in an email.