Leopard escapes from the box

Snowy tree reflected in
the glass atop the fabulous
54" round pedestal table I
found at a store in Minneapolis
many years ago.
The very best size for playing cards.

I found my fun clothes!

In a box taken from the recycling pile in front of Ten Thousand Villages in Asheville, before I decided to use standard UPS packing. This was packed when I moved from my Chestnut Street apartment, in 2009. So I haven't seen the leopard print denim bell bottoms or the short red dress I wore to Shelly & Johnny's wedding or any number of fabulous apparel for more than 5 & 1/2 years.

I'll go through them, & make sure they're still fun & they still fit. Probably some things will go to thrift stores or consignment shops, but you know I'm going to be wearing leopard print bell bottoms tomorrow!

This was the funnest of the boxes I've gone through lately, & there have been a bunch of them. Recycled a lot of paper. Now I'm trying to come up with a better system for paper, because I've come to know that putting it in cute black snap-together banker's boxes from Staples just means I have a bunch of cute black boxes on my shelves. It has to be more visual, more accessible, more in-my-face for them to be useable.

I'll the put the old (but not yet old enough to discard) tax materials back in one of the cute black boxes. I'm putting some papers in sheet protectors & putting them in binders. We'll see if that will work better. Perhaps if I had a room with walls made out of cork board I could just pin all the rest of it up &--no, no, that would be a disaster.

I'm good at coming up with systems though. I even have some that work...

Blog alternative:
291. Look at a system for keeping things. Does it work? If not, why not? Get rid of some of the things that got bottle-necked in the system. Bonus if you come up with another system.

Accidental Movies

Do you ever do this? Take pictures with your camera (I forgot, no one has cameras any more. Okay, your phone.) & somehow in the middle of it press something that means you're making a movie. Except you never make movies, so you think you're just looking at the scene, ready to take another picture. But when you push your "take a picture" button, nothing happens. Hmmm, you think, & keep   watching the scene, moving the device, pressing the button. After a little while (one hopes, depending on the scene) you turn it off & back on again, & there you are, able to take pictures, wondering what just happened.

The sad thing about this: the more dynamic & interesting & movie-worthy the scene, the sooner you are to turn it off & start over. If it's no big deal--say, the way pattern looks really cool on the end pages of Mary Oliver's poetry book, Blue Horses, reflecting the light from your little gooseneck LED light from IKEA off the protective plastic coat the library lovingly placed on the book--you might mess around for 47 seconds or so. Sigh.

I was going to share the little movie--with no guarantee that it would be 47 seconds well spent; watch at your own risk; blah blah blah--but fortunately for you there was an error. Instead, taking far less than 47 seconds to peruse, is this photo, 1 of 29 I took. I could show you the slideshow...

The little diorama at the top is brought to in part you by Mr. Jackson, dead these many years. Mr. Jackson was my teacher at Nye School for 8 years, my introduction to education. He taught grammar & phonics exceedingly well, made sure we did at least one freehand drawing a month (on manila paper) as well as the obligatory trace-your-hand turkeys & folded-&-cut paper snowflakes & such for seasonal decorations & ran a kickass rhythm band which was a key component of our twice-a-year programs, Christmas & graduation--standing room only events at Nye. He also--well, I won't go into the parts that made some students (not me) wish they went to school in Absarokee. We can't be all things to all people, after all. One thing about going to a one-room school, is you know who your teacher's going to be next year. & the year after that...

Mr. Jackson had two favorite little gifts he gave to the girls in the school at Christmas & school year's end. I have no idea what he gave the boys. Girls got paper cards with little ceramic animals glued to them or a cool cobalt blue bottle of Evening in Paris perfume.

I probably don't have any perfume bottles left (more's the pity, since a bunch of my decorating consists of setting blue bottles of all shapes & sizes on window sills) but in one of the bathrooms of my parents' house are two sets of little animals that Mr. Jackson gave me. Every time I go home, I rearrange the mama duck & her teenager & baby & the mama dog & her 4 puppies (1 has its tail completely broken off & another has just a little tail tip chipped; I usually make them the super adventurous & adventurous ones.) into dynamic dioramas.

I'm pretty sure, since I left Nye School the spring of 1973 & the ceramic animals were probably "little girl" gifts, that the duck family & the dog family are more than 45 years old. I doubt many of their counterparts, given to other girls, even exist any more. I very seriously doubt that any of them get played with several times a year.

I was unusually enchanted by the diorama I came up with over the holiday season. The puppy peeking out of the heart-shaped box at the baby duck. Mama duck & mama dog nose to nose. 3 puppies converging on the adolescent duck--safety in numbers? So, you get a couple less-than-perfect photos of this (I didn't think of it until it was time to leave & I had to hurry & the light wasn't good & I don't like flash) to go along with (what was going to be) your movie of the end pages of a poetry book. I hope all this artistry doesn't completely blow you out of whatever water you happen to be in.

Blog alternative:
290. Put together some of your possessions (even if you don't have old childhood toys, you probably have a comb & a light bulb &...) in a diorama. A brave coffee cup standing up to a collection of empty beer bottles? One earring leading the escape from the necklace corral?

Winter, cracked in half

Ram Bunctious

It's January. According to my calculations, that's smack dab in the middle of winter. I was just out in Montana for an extra week or so due to tangibles of winter: snow, ice, cold. However, the roads did eventually turn green (on the weather.com travel map) & home I came.

Many games of all sorts (except poker, alas) were played. Mom won the pitch series for the first time ever. (Go, Mom!)

It's been a while since I posted, so I'll just do one to have it done.

Blog alternative:
289. Do a slap dash, half assed version of something you've been putting off. Break the ice, as it were. After all, winter is half over.

Big old brown dog slobbered on my prom dress

I know what you're thinking: What was a big old brown dog doing at the prom? (Or what was I doing at a prom, for that matter.)

There was no prom involved. It was the day after Halloween & I was a race marshall at the 5K turnaround point for the Running Lungs 10K-5K-2K. Good thing I had that extra layer of prom dress (skirt, actually) over my long johns & jeans, because it was 17 degrees when I left the house. "What?" you say. (I know what you're saying as well as what you're thinking. Bwaaa haaa haaa!) "17 degrees in Asheville on November 1st?"

Actually, no. I was (& am) back in Rochester, Minnesota. With a dog-slobbered prom skirt & all of my other possessions under one roof. In Asheville, I had a storage unit, which is probably NOT a healthy thing. It's like weighing several thousand extra pounds, but because you're not carrying it around with you, you never do anything about it. Oh, you go out there & poke around & pick things up & put them down & maybe deal with 3 items, but then you pull the door down & click the padlock shut & drive away with a sigh. When all the stuff is visible, you are far more likely to recycle & throw away & give away. (I made a trip to Goodwill today.)

Perhaps it wasn't the very best time to move north, as the temp lately has been in the negatives, wind chill wise, but hey, that just keeps you inside, working on organizing & creating. Plus right now I have a warm little dog on my lap, one of my grand-dogs. I am back in the Winter house. If you have to live in a house in Minnesota in the winter, the Winter house is the one. Passive solar, earth bermed, capable of leaping -- if it's a sunny day -- a winter temperature into the temperate range. (At least while the sun is up.)

The polar vortex is easing up & we're going to be a bit more seasonal by the weekend. Yay!

Blog alternative:
288. Put on a fancy extra layer to go out in, even if it's silly.

Back Again

I know what you're thinking: She was trapped in her car for all of July & August. The bear's not that big. Surely she could have driven to a location with wi-fi & bought it an apple pie or something...

I am in -- as you may have guessed from the photo -- Montana. Actually I'm in Montana for the second time since last I blogged. My dad had a minor heart attack in June & I basically spent 3 weeks in July with my folks, for moral support & foot rubs & card playing. That time I flew.

This time was a big surprise, because his 80th birthday was September 7th & my niece is getting married later in September so Mom & Dad figured I'd just make it out for the wedding. But heck, an 80th birthday is not one to miss! I spent the morning of September 2nd (no way was I getting on the highways over Labor Day weekend) cuddling with Derrick & talking & then drove (with a stop or three along the way) to Big Sky & spent a couple days in a (super cool) log cabin with Minnesota friends (hi Debbie & Jim) & went to Yellowstone Park for the first time in 40-some years (which makes it my second time there ever) & drove to Nye to surprise the heck out of my folks & provide a little brown bear with a photo opportunity.

July & August happened in a lovely fashion, as far as I remember. Grin. Guess I'll leave them at that. September. I just love fall, when it gets brisk -- & it got down to real brisk already up at Nye. 22 degrees. Except today it's going to be 85 there. Montana weather. Gotta love it.

In Montana I have sporadic cell phone service & sporadic wi-fi capabilities, depending where I am, so I'm taking advantage of some coffee shopping. I've provided some foot rubs & been involved in a bunch of card games (right now I'm behind, so I better get cracking) & done a bit of visiting & worked on a novel & soaked up the beauty of those brash teenage mountains, the Rockies. Beautiful in a different way than the rounded greener grandmamma mountains of North Carolina.

Anyway, I'm back. Hope your summer went well & your fall is going weller. (I know it's not quite the first day of fall yet, but I do it strictly calendrically. (Weird. There seems to be doubt in the program's mind about both weller & calendrically, not to mention grandmamma...)

Blog alternative:
287. Surprise someone you love with a phone call or a cupcake or a handmade card or an invitation to a frisbee game or...

Friday the 13th Feng Shui

One of the other aliens who
lives in this house.

Happy Friday the 13th!

I took a couple workshops (one's not quite over yet) at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute here.

One is about planning wills & health care directives & such & is informative & humorous & tremendously worthwhile. (If anyone wants to know cool stuff about signature cards for Pay on Death dispersal of bank accounts or the importance of putting JWROS on your car title (joint with right of survivorship) so the other guy or gal can just drive away after your next vehicle turns out to be a hearse, just let me know. Grin.)

The other was a really cool class on Feng Shui (fung shway, in case anyone else out there besides me has the unfortunate habit of not being able to pronounce things they've only read...) which inspired another room re-org. This one is my best ever! For a while, of course, the room was both shaken & stirred, but it's coming along very nicely & I've released a bunch of stuff into the wild of recycling & giveaway & turned some art supplies into reality, rather than possibility. So much fun, too. Su-shen, who taught the class, is very much in favor of common sense & personal preference & intuition, as well as the ancient Chinese wisdom.

I turned several key horizontal surfaces into "this is where pretty stuff lives" spaces rather than "this is where I can chuck stuff rather than dealing with it" zones. I also strung a belt composed of metal circles from one corner of the closet molding to a shelf around the corner & hung necklaces on it. Guess what? I've worn several pretty necklaces that had been huddled in bags & boxes & beltbags, waiting to be appreciated. Now, they're appreciated, by me anyway, whether I'm wearing them or not, since they make up part of the room decor.

Blog alternative:
286. Figure out a way to display some item that's squirreled away, forgotten like a nut that will never turn into a tree. Jewelry. Jewelry-making-tools. A favorite frisbee. See if visibility increases utility.

Free to be...CrabbyPants

Shadows of leaves

on sunlit leaves

I've had many scheduled activities this month, including listening to Christine Kloser's free teleclass, the Transformational Author Experience. 22 hours of really interesting information. Christine is a great interviewer & her experts are amazing. It's a 2-week event that ends on Friday, but you can catch at least the 3 Friday events over the weekend, so check it out at
the Transformational Author Experience
if you're interested. Even if you're not specifically writing a book, some of her experts talk about things like inspiration & finding your calling & marketing your seminars & social media & money. But you have to sign up before it's over...

One of her experts was Marci Shimoff, who wrote a great book called Happy for No Reason. Lots of great information & exercises & an easy read. I just read it & loved it, so my post title & topic may sound contradictory, but it isn't, really.

The other day I was feeling a little crabby. Now, me on crabby is a lot like a lot of people's best days. I don't do crabby often, or well. But, there I was, feeling (a little) crabby. I believe (now) in honoring & expressing my emotions, in a useful way, letting them flow, rather than putting on a perky, positive front & denying that I even felt that way. I've had years of experience with the perky, positive front, which was mostly -- but not always -- authentic. Now when I'm perky & positive, I want it to be front, back, inside, outside & sideways. But the other day, crabby.

I had no reason. I wasn't tired or hungry. I hadn't just had something disappointing happen. (I'll get to that later.) But instead of saying to myself, "This is ridiculous! Quit it!" I just let myself feel what I was feeling. I got over it before the day was even out, & I chose to mostly hang out just with my own little crabbypants self rather than spreading it around, but it was satisfying. Relaxing. Authentic. That was who I was right then, & I didn't have to pretend anything to anybody, including myself. Whew.

Earlier in the month, I had a disappointing experience, when I got the news back from my editor that my novel either needed to be longer, or maybe shorter, & maybe it wasn't for a young audience, but maybe it was, & what did I think? It was a very thoughtful, well-considered email & --

-- I went into a cave wondering if I even wanted to be -- or could be -- or ever had been -- a novelist. I'd just wanted to have it out of my hands. Sigh. I still haven't touched it, but I have come up with one idea for addressing one of her concerns, & when I'm hungry to do so, I'll go to that scene & implement the new idea & then see what happens.

I tell you this to illustrate that I went ahead & felt what I was feeling when I did know the reason, which made my no-reason-crabbypants feel quite silly to me, but I was willing to just let it wash out in its own time anyway.

I am a happy person, & getting happier. Life is good, especially if you let in the occasional crabbypants. The sweet is sweeter after a little sour.

Blog alternative:
285. Embrace your inner crabbypants. Don't give her a car & a smart phone & access to your checking account, but a hug & a big "I love you just as you are" will go a long way.