Ramonster, etc, etc.

days 27, 28, 29, 30

2012-01-20T20:06:00.003-06:00

day 27: the greenbelt.
if you've been there, you know, words can't describe it.
moments from home, and we're instantly transported.

day 28: this phase of family life.
i like to hold babies, snuggle babies, coo and kiss them.
but what i really can't get enough of right now?
being able to say "get yourselves dressed and let's go for a hike."
or "i'll be right back- ima run to the store real quick."
or "have fun at the park. be back in half an hour."
my smalls, toying with independance and standing in their boots, small and firm.

day 29: opportunity.
the challange of the change adverse is to
pluck opportunity out of the rind of inconvienience.

day 30: a new year.
ever a blank canvas, a clean slate.

days 24, 25, 26. my heart, walking around in three places.

2012-01-03T11:58:00.007-06:00

24, the small boy, the very small boy.

the bringer of light and laughter and loud bodily noises.

bringer of intestinal parasites and bring-outer of my most righteous mama-bear protective angst.

you make me feel like lenny i want to squeeze you so..... hard.....

you fit me perfectly.

25, the larger boy.

you, who is ever in the process of forcefully prying dogmatic conviction from the rock hard fist of my heart,

though i snap back sharply sometimes like a rubber band, holding my familiar shape-

you, ever attempting to replace belief with the agonizing fragility of trust.

we are intertangled- our roots bound in a complex, symbiotic, indivisible system.

tangled and tangling and scrapping through this incarnation, and it's pretty hilarious.

and sometimes infuriating-

but mostly unbelievably messy and perfect.

26, the girl, no longer small, not quite yet large;

you the most exacting of all teachers,

you who daily ask me to do the most basic, impossible, simple, unattainable task

in order to satisfy my most primal maternal drive.

That to give you the most basic nutrition you require-

I must perform the impossible feat, in as many ways as there are breaths in our bodies,

to tell you from the dark and scared parts of my heart-

"you are perfect."

and to believe it.

and to truly and deeply and honestly believe it,

to give you the world, to give you the world-

i have to look at myself and say the same.

days 21, 22, 23 los peeps.

2011-12-23T20:00:00.002-06:00

i have a funny relationship with The People.

i am both enamored with and terrified by most people.

not individually, really, because when i can connect with folks on a one-on-one basis, i can feel the sameness.

but groups, or strangers, tend to instantly transform me into a semi-panic stricken bumbling fah-REEK.

so mostly i just don't leave my house.

but i do love The People.

day 21 i dedicate to The Guides- the community members i look to when i need guidance or mentorship. folks who do business consciously and mindfully. folks who parent with trust and unconditional love. folks whose example i look to in this cobbled together village of mine.

day 22 i dedicate to, as anne-marie has so eloquently labeled them, the arg-bargers. the people who i struggle to thank the most. the peeps who i sometimes try too hard to understand when i should be just giving them more space. folks whose juxtaposition to myself serves to keep me eternally humble and awake to my own C to the R to the A to the Pee.

day 23 is today and is for my sweet soul sisters (and brothers). you all know who you are. some of you i see regularly, some i haven't seen in years. if you are out there and i haven't told you lately that i love you, i do. i'm not much of a hugger, and detest the phone, so sometimes i'm afraid that i might give off a scent that reeks of not really caring. i'd like to take this opportunity to state, for the record, that i actually care so much it freaks me out to the point of not wanting to leave my house for fear of doing or saying something that would make any one of you like me less. i care so much that i sometimes lie awake at night thinking about things going on in your lives that i know is causing you pain. i'm not saying that it's healthy. in fact, i know that being neurotic and angsty about relationships with Other Humans is a giant blinking neon sign that i'm a long-ass way from enlightenment. and yet, it's all true. and to those of you i love, i hope you know that this love-well runs deep. i hope i have, in someway, somehow, given you some insight into how awesome i think you are. you're awesome. and i've way mega totally got your back, dudes.

and also, sorry about that time i was so super weird. that just happens.

days 18, 19, 20. FEWD is GEWD

2011-12-23T19:35:00.003-06:00

so, it seems as though when The Beard is in The House, there is much less time for blogging, and much more time for catching up on episodes of parks and rec, downton abbey and 30 rock.

so.... we'll be working with themes to help catch up.....

I LOVE FOOD

day 18 i dedicate to the abundance of resources available to those of us trying to live FREE. (of gluten and dairy. which is kind of lame and is why i just like to declare that we are FREE. when you start inserting delicious food groups in front of the word 'free' it's just a downer.) but in this city, in this era, families like ours are plentiful and so are our food options.

day 19 i dedicate to tecolote farm, our beloved CSA farm, the bringers of delicious and abundant baskets of happy calories. katie and david work so hard to make their living, and what they offer is the most vital of all services. we are lucky enough to be a hub for our neighborhood basket drop-off, and there is absolutely nothing quite so abundant-feeling as a porch filled with baskets overflowing with obscene amounts of things green. it is a sight that can instantly bring me back into balance.

day 20 i dedicate to the search. meat or no meat? or some meat? local meat? grass fed? grains? yes or no? how much? organic? local? i feel like there is some equation for What Works, but i feel pretty sure that there are as many correct equations as there are humans on the face of the planet. but i'm grateful for the crazy privilege of being able to ask questions and test options.

day 17, sisterwife

2011-12-19T06:31:00.002-06:00

you know how some people, when you meet them, you just know this isn't the first time your lives have intersected?

some people feel so instantly comfortable, so well fit.

these people, after you meet them (again, in this lifetime) know exactly who you are.

and what you might need-

like a book handed over

like a message, exactly perfectly timed

like a bag of groceries so carefully chosen when the babies are sick

like a six pack of beer, left on the porch, when my refrigerator is empty and my husband is gone and my kids are in bed....

like a thousand nights of conversation- some in person, some virtual.

i'm so grateful for my friend Jote. i'm grateful for her amazing family, too, whom all feel so ancient and connected to me somehow.

for all this, and so much more.

and then somehow, in december, she also manages, through her grace and jote-ness, to spin a beautiful web of goodness by inspiring us all to say a simple daily thanks.

i love you, jote khalsa.

sisterwife, sister from anothah muthah, hobag, and super-duper heart of my heart.

days 15, 16: that's entertainment

2011-12-16T22:30:00.004-06:00

i've gotten way behind in my daily posting of the things of which swell up my gizzard with the good feelings.

but i'm so grateful for the reasons i've been remiss in my postings!

i've had this weird skinny hairy fellow who shows up every now and again around. he's gone again, but for a few days there i had this familiar stranger- who took us all to the movies, and who, after the kids went to bed, sat around and watched shows with me.

and it was really fun and i'm really glad. people make good things for watching. thanks, people!

best things we've watched:

15: THE MUPPET MOVIE- i don't want to ruin this movie for anyone by building it up too much.... BUT I THINK THIS IS THE BEST MOST AWESOME PERFECT MOVIE EVER IN THE HISTORY OF MOVIES. our entire family was cra-king-up and bawling our heads off at the same time. ok, i lie. it was mostly just me doing the crying part. in fact i'm pretty sure it was definitely just me doing the crying part. but those other people who i cook for- THEY were cracking up and OH THE SONGS!! AND THE SINGING AND DANCING! OH! and the earnestness mixed with irony that knew right when to slip back into earnestness.... oh my.

16: DOWNTON ABBEY- i flip-flappin love this show, and thanks to cool breeze mchacker, we got us some new episodes with which to distract me from The Facebook and The Blogging. OH BATES! O'BRIAN, YOU CAD. blaaaah ha hahahahaha i love it.

days 12, 13, 14: the sane makers

2011-12-16T12:30:00.003-06:00

here's to the grand triumvirate of things that keep me sane*,

somewhat balanced**,

and keep me hovering in that ambiguous area of having taken off SOME but mos def not ALL of the "Baby Weight"***

*it's a relative term, i know. in this case used to describe the state of being wherein i can, at the end of the day, count the number of behaviors exhibited by myself i wish i'd exhibited differently- ON ONE HAND.

**also relative. an example befitting this usage of the word balanced here: some stuff gets done, some fun gets had, some sleep is slept.

*"Baby Weight": the gaining of which was perpetrated less by the biological manufacturing of The Baby, and more by The Stress-Eating (read:drinking) that came with my first several years of parenthood.

12: thank you running. thank you early morning runs and mid morning runs and sloppy rainy catch as catch can runs. thank you running partners who both distract and punctuate. thank you town lake trail. thank you folks who saunter three-abreast, creating annoying obstacles that serve as a reminder to never take running- or myself- too seriously. thank you UT track team in your wes anderson knee socks and headbands and dolphin shorts. thank you all the people who tell me running isn't very good for my knees but who understand that my mental health is more important than stiff joints. thank you.

13: thank you yoga. thank you yoga classes in yoga studios that feel like a true respite from everything grinding. thank you yoga classes on line that service my need for squeezing in a class in a teensy eensy time, or because i have no childcare options, or because my wallet is light. thank you yoga done off the top of my head when i have been sitting for two hours stitching and all of my muscles are beginning to atrophy. thank you for that indescribable, unbelievable feeling that comes when i get a few sun salutations under my belt. thank you for being the yin to my yang of running. i could go on but i will start to sound douchy. thank you.

14: thank you swimming. thank you town lake YMCA pool where there is no highly competitive triathlete swimmer swimming up my arse because the pool is full and I am so. very. slow. thank you water for your ability to both terrify and sedate me into breathing rhythmically and fully. one, two, three, breathe. one, two, three, breathe. thank you, swimming, for being there for me when it's too hot to run. thank you for not holding it agin' me when i leave you for months on end because the weather is so amazingly beautiful and the trail is littered with gold and rusty colored leaves and you can see things that are normally hidden by foliage. thank you.

day 11, jay-oh-bee

2011-12-12T21:43:00.005-06:00

even though sometimes i feel like i need desperately to stop doing All Of The Things,

(and not "do all the things' in a good, accomplished kind of way- more in a spastic schizophrenic desperate kind of way,)

and pick One Thing,

and do that One Thing and only that One Thing-

in order to Develop Discipline and Build A Career that is Easily Definable.

but sometimes i actually get asked to do something for someone that isn't that One Thing.

and it's So Damn Fun and makes me So Damn Happy.

thanks to you guys that think up a thing and think i might be the gal to help bring your ideas into fruition.

what ever That Thing might be.

(in this case it's a family portrait christmas card for one of my favorite austin families- THANK YOU MOIRA! still crossing my fingers arlo and sister rekindle their epic flame and someday we'll be in laws....)

day 10, the source of all things

2011-12-11T21:41:00.004-06:00

my sister and i laugh at our parallel lives sometimes-

we both have spouses who are on the road a good percentage of the time, and we both find ourselves in the position of having to run a household for days, weeks, sometimes months, on our own. (we've been over this, i know.)

it feels natural to both of us, somehow, that this would end up being the case.

it was, so you see, how we were raised.

my dad didn't leave on work trips for weeks on end like the menfolk my sister and i both chose...

but he took leave of us, mentally at least, about 20 years before he took leave of us physically.

everything was left up to mom.

running the house, keeping us sane, paying the bills...

never mind the full time job of care-taking the one person on earth you had fully expected would take care of you.

mom often talks about wishing dad was around to take care of stuff. (which makes debbie and i laugh, because for most of our lives she, uncomplainingly, ALWAYS took care of EVERYTHING.)

for her sake, i wish that she had him to take care of stuff.

for all of our sakes, i wish we all had him to take care of stuff.

but we don't, and that is what it is.

but what do we have?

what we DO have is

we have mom. the rock of Gibraltar.

who, though she didn't ask for it and no one would wish it on her,

brought up two girls while flying solo.

who, though we, her girls, might not ask for it,

we run a mighty tight ship, flying solo.

we sew a straight seam, literally and figuratively,

we relish back-breaking labor and steep rocky mountain trails.

we lebeck girls,

who love when the menfolk can join in,

but we sure as hell aren't waiting around for them.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my mom.

deep gratitude for passing along her fierce independence.

though it felt forced on you, mommy, i kind of think it's deeper in your bones than you'll ever realize.

days 7, 8, 9: simple things

2011-12-09T22:11:00.004-06:00

day 7: the downtown Y.

i just love it there. have you been? you should go.

i think that everybody who is there is genuinely really happy to be there. everybody.

i love that i feel so privileged to be able to go there when it's freezing, (or more often) blazingly hot-

and when i'm there, it's tough to feel like your slogging your way through an hour on the treadmill when very nearby there is a team of three helping a less able-bodied person to just make it through a few exercises.

and sharing the locker room with folks from every walk of life is always a mind-expanding, heart-expanding experience.

and everybody really just seems so glad to have this place to move, and be.

day 8: this one book.

Ahab's Wife.

suggested by friends, who at the time had no idea they were suggesting i pick up a book about a woman who sews.

who sews and who's husband goes away for months, years on end while she sews.

but all that aside, this was just one of those books that i still feel i'm mourning the loss of.

i love reading a book where by page 5 you realize it's already made it to your life-long all time top 10 book list.

day 9: yahtzee.

The Beard has a longstanding history with this game.

he and i used to sit and play for hours in college. that and pass the pigs.

and he's continued throughout his life, as his meditation,

to sit and play yahtzee, endlessly.

after coming home from this last trip, he decided to teach the boy.

to say that it seems the game is in the blood is almost an understatement.

i'll say this, however, and i think you'll get the gist:

the boy hasn't asked to play Wii since he learned to play yahtzee.

i know.

day six: J Hen and J Den

2011-12-06T20:10:00.003-06:00

i know we went over this last year, but

c'mon

if this doesn't molecularly shift your entire biochemical being, butterfly-like, into an explosion of all things good and right, then either

YOUR HEART IS SHRIVELED AND DRY AND NOT UNLIKE A WALNUT

OR

you didn't grow up in the 70's.

in my house.

anyway.

it's hard for me to come up with anything that can so instantly make me feel so remarkably child-like and peaceful.

thanks, J Den and J Hen. hope you guys are totally being awesome in the etherworld.

of course you are.

day five: the game

2011-12-05T19:58:00.003-06:00

it's just a game.

unless it's a lineage.*

and a lifeline.**

*in the bloodline. i've mentioned matt's grandpa played ball on the san francisco seals with joe dimaggio, yes? yes. and my grandpa coached the high school team. not as glamorous, perhaps. but he does have part of the Pacific Grove recreation department named after him. that ain't nuthin.

**fall is when the games get good and usually when the beard (not brian wilson) hits the road. i've texted through more baseball games with matt and jote than i can count. play by play, like they're both here with me. baseball eases the transition from four to three.

thanks baseball. and thank you for getting over that home run records breaking all the time phase you had. that wasn't pretty.

day four: four.

2011-12-04T21:01:00.004-06:00

and then there were four.

thankful for safe journeys and homebound planes.

and days and days and days before goodbyes.

day three: utha mutha's. and fatha's.

2011-12-03T23:34:00.002-06:00

today i'm grateful for the people who move in and out of my home as though it is their own almost-

who hold my children as though they are their own almost-

who's children are like siblings to my own almost-

different than just being my friends, though they are that too,

different than being family, though they feel as familiar.

they are my partner parents. my sisterwives and rent-a-dads.

you all know who you are, but tonight i'd like to give a shout out to cool breeze shawtay hide ya keeds angry gorilla and AMH.

rock steady, yo. fist bump and my deepest thanks.

day two: i can tell everybody, this is my song.

2011-12-02T19:49:00.001-06:00

i learned all kinds of iMovie skillz during ye olde kickstarter days of yore.

haven't flexed that muscle in awhile and kind of missed it.

plus, i really didn't want to watch the smurf movie with arlo.

30 days grateful, day 1: deb.

2011-12-01T21:52:00.002-06:00

Happy Birthday to my big sis, Debbie.

appropriate that day one of the 30 days project should begin each year with her.

if you've ever wished you had a big sister for all those big sisterish reasons, then debbie is the one you should long for.

plus she's like backcountry version of martha stewart. she can make everything martha can make, plus she can dehydrate it for backpacking trips.

she makes me feel like even if the world goes to hell, i've always got her, the kids have their cousins, and together we can little house the s**t out of armageddon.

Spring Semester Garment Intensive

2011-11-29T14:26:00.004-06:00

dying knit fabric with turmeric

dyed fabric stitched up into a hoodie

lucy's custom fit shorts pattern all sewn up!

hey all-

just putting the word out that i'm opening enrollment for next semesters Garment Intensive for Homeschoolers class.

This semester has been really fun!

here's the dealio:

intermediate garment sewing intensive for 12-18 yr olds

taught by kathie sever, ramonsterwear.com
taught at kathie’s home studio, near barton springs pool in south austin

Jan 16- May 28
mondays 9:30am till 12:30pm*

*i’m willing to move the class to a different day if i can find 4 students who need that.

class dates:
Feb 6, 13, 20, 27
March 5, 19, 26
April 2, 9, 16, 23, 30
May 7, 14, 21, 28

semester tuition: $640**

*this does not include materials. i’ll let you know what you need, you’ll need to get it on your own and be able to bring it to class on appointed class days.

min/max 4 students

what we’ll cover:

*working with commercial patterns
*tailoring patterns to fit
*fabric manipulations (block printing, freezer paper stencils, dying, embroidery, trims)
*working with both woven and knit fabrics
*up-cycling and repurposing used materials

i will be encouraging students to place an emphasis on creatively and mindfully sourcing materials. we’ll talk about the use of gently used fabrics versus when it’s more appropriate to find well made, sustainable materials.

the class will be working from a set of commercial patterns that i will be choosing, in order to try keep everyone on basically the same page in terms of what methods and skills we’ll be covering, and when. the patterns will be chosen in order to cover a wide base of garment making skills, but all will be open to the students interpretation and manipulation.

this class will be taught as a semester-long series, so i ask that you keep this in mind when signing up an interested student. i will refund tuition within the first two weeks as long as we have a replacement student willing to start late.

payment options: i can accept payment either monthly, or with a 10% discount if tuition is paid EITHER in full by our first class meeting, OR in two installments, one due on the first day of class and the second due by April 9th.

i ask that interested students have a basic understanding of machine sewing.

please email me at ramonsterwear@gmail.com if you're interested.

tiny mentors

2011-11-16T21:47:00.003-06:00

the phrase "your children are your most powerful teachers" remained cliche and tedious to me for years after having kids.

it's different now.

these scrappy, angsty, perfect urchins are the most agonizingly revealing, raw-making, inspiring gurus.

and they stick around and force you to pay attention by ripping your heart out and inspecting it for flaws.

ringin' the school bell orr here.

2011-08-22T12:40:00.003-05:00

so, it's been quite awhile since i've offered any garment based classes, or any classes really at all.

i'll tell you why.

some things about my last classes weren't quite working for me...

there were too many students, or too much chaos. the timing was hard with my kids and family life. i was feeling drained, rather than fed. so i took a break from teaching.

but it seems as though i've had enough time to reflect on what wasn't working for me. i've been able to mentally tackle how to flip these issues around so as to be able to confidently invite students back into my studio again.

here's my plan.

i'm limiting class size to 4 students, max. i'm also only offering a class if 4 students are interested.

the first is to keep things intimate and manageable. machine sewing classes are often a lot of trouble shooting. more than 4 machines all going at once can turn into me just running from machine to machine un-jamming bobbins, finding replacement needles, etc. the second is personal and financial. in order to make it feel worth it to turn over my shop to a student lab one day a week, it takes a fair amount of prep and clean up. i've realized that it needs to feel worth all my extra time that this takes or else i end up feeling rushed and frazzled.

i'm offering a longer-term class, for older students. and determining ahead of time what we'll be working on.

the first is because i'm interested in really working with students that have a deeper interest in the minutia of garment making. sometimes the disposable-ness feeling of shorter term craft projects can leave me feeling hollow. both as a maker and a teacher. sometimes those projects are perfect! but to base a curriculum around them, for me, wasn't filling me up. the second is because as much as i'm eager to let the students let their creativity run wild- i'm more eager to be able to transmit some solid foundational knowledge of garment construction. so, to everything, turn turn turn. there will be a time for playing with materials autonomously, but there will also be a time for working together as a class on the same things, at the same times.

the class is for 12-18 yr olds, and is offered from 9:30 till 12:30.

so yes, this is a class for home schoolers, un-schoolers and alternative schoolers. as much as i'd love to be able to offer this class to a wider variety of school aged kids, right now i'm realizing that as a mother of two who is more often than not single parenting, offering after-school hours classes creates some significant disharmony in the home. so that's that.

okay! that's that. so here's the scoop!!!

intermediate garment sewing intensive for 12-18 yr olds

taught by kathie sever, ramonsterwear.com
taught at kathie’s home studio, near barton springs pool in south austin

sept 5- dec 12
mondays 9:30am till 12:30pm*

*i’m willing to move the class to a different day if i can find 4 students who need that.

class dates:
sept 5,12,19,26
oct 3,10,17,24 (skipping halloween)
nov 7, 14, 21, 28
dec 5, 12,

sept/oct/nov $160 per month
dec $80

semester tuition: $560**

*this does not include materials. i’ll let you know what you need, you’ll need to get it on your own and be able to bring it to class on appointed class days.

min/max 4 students

what we’ll cover:

*working with commercial patterns
*tailoring patterns to fit
*fabric manipulations (block printing, freezer paper stencils, dying, embroidery, trims)
*working with both woven and knit fabrics
*up-cycling and repurposing used materials

i will be encouraging students to place an emphasis on creatively and mindfully sourcing materials. we’ll talk about the use of gently used fabrics versus when it’s more appropriate to find well made, sustainable materials.

the class will be working from a set of commercial patterns that i will be choosing, in order to try keep everyone on basically the same page in terms of what methods and skills we’ll be covering, and when. the patterns will be chosen in order to cover a wide base of garment making skills, but all will be open to the students interpretation and manipulation.

this class will be taught as a semester-long series, so i ask that you keep this in mind when signing up an interested student. i will refund tuition within the first two weeks as long as we have a replacement student willing to start late.

payment options: i can accept payment either monthly, or with a 10% discount if tuition is paid in full by our first class meeting.

i ask that interested students have a basic understanding of machine sewing.

please email me at ramonsterwear@gmail.com if you're interested.

survey says:

2011-08-21T20:24:00.003-05:00

**insert comment here about how i don't blog with any frequency as if there is a loyal readership to disappoint**

it's Sunday night, last evening of the summer. (although i guess technically it's a school night, which doesn't feel so summery.)

and although over here at ramonster world headquarters things are a little wonky- the kids have been fighting off a truly epic stomach bug and one of them won't be heading off to school in the morning with his sister- it's time to start thinking about sinking back into ye olde school time routines.

i've always felt pretty adept at intuiting boundaries- finding and being able to vocalize the limits and allowances that keep things feeling balanced around here- but there is a persistent issue in our house that challenges my maternal confidence.

i've whipped out my tool box and tried them all, but this issue is a bugger. so i'm asking for your advice.

or at least your commiseration.

the issue at hand?

screen time.

normally, i, not unlike Aristotle, strive for moderation in all things. so, although i tire of being asked for another episode of the cosby show on netflix, i'm not quite ready to throw the TV out, and i like to have my laptop around, too. and i'm sure the kids pick up on this. moderation.

i try to serve food that is healthy, but i like to bust out the m&m's after dinner sometimes, if you get my gist.

but the screen thing? i've got one kid who could care less if we even owned a TV or computer. but i've got this other kid, who shall remain nameless, who, no matter what parameters i set, can seemingly never. get. enough.

what i've tried:

no screen time during the school week, then a couple movies on the weekends.

not enough.

30 min, three times a week, plus a movie or two on the weekends.

not enough.

over the summer i've started allowing a little bit most days. mostly because it's so damn hot and i don't have a lot to offer in the way of outdoor activities.

not. enough.

but it's too much for me. i feel like i've compromised more than i'm comfortable with.

but i'm also uncomfortable being in the position to keep reiterating all the reasons why we're not turning on the TV or why it's not time for the Wii to come on over and over. i feel uncertain which is worse: the screen time, or the amount of (what often feels like negative) energy that goes into holding boundaries around screen time.

i'm almost ready to throw it all to the curb. but even that feels like compromise i'm not comfortable with.

so here are my questions for you:

do you have boundaries around screens?

if so, what are they?

does it work for everybody?

how old are your kids?

okay i think that's it.

i'm so curious as to ways that others have tackled this issue.

armageddon, 2.0

2011-05-19T20:50:00.003-05:00

it's embarrassing to admit, but i've never been able to comfortably blow off a good, old-fashioned, Armageddon scare.

ever since i can remember, and quite possibly before, i've had apocalyptic nightmares.

i grew up in earthquake territory, just a few blocks from the beach.

It was a rare day when the gnawing vision of a giant wave rushing towards myself and my family failed to screen it's unwelcome footage onto my otherwise lackadaisical head space.

each predication of end times, of societal collapse, of 'The Big One'.... not one got by my notice, and not one elicited anything less than the type of terror one reserves for the Apocalypse, i suppose.

i remember sitting on my bed when i was maybe 8, sobbing at the thought of the fear and loss that awaited me, certain it was days away. hours away. moments away.

i'd feel momentarily light when the clock ticked past the appointed moment, only to find myself focusing my attention on the next threat to my perceived security. rinse, repeat. rinse, repeat.

here we are again, counting down the days. most of us light-heartedly poking fun at the seeming ridiculousness of yet another example of spirituality, bastardized.

and i'm older, and in some ways wiser, i guess. this ain't my first rodeo of doom.

yet i'm still uncomfortable with it all. still unable to joke about this newly appointed day of reckoning.

still find myself staring out the window, while cooking dinner, letting things burn.

this time, however, it's not the uncontrollable will-of-an-angry-god or Nostradamus-said that gives me pause.

it's the discomfort of facing a very personal Armageddon.

a daily, mundane end-of-times.

i've come to accept that the Apocalypse, for me, and i think for us, might not come on saturday, it might not come on the winter solstice 2012, but it comes, with or without asking our perceived permission.

it is the voice that whispers fear when we first hear it,

then speaks anger when we are sophomoric,

then begins a thrumming yell when we ignore it, and insists that we remain fearful, angry;

uncomfortable,

until we shake it up

flood it out

and die to it all.

rinse, repeat.

and i think my deepest fear of all?

is that the longer we ignore it, the louder it gets.

on the origins of mothers day....

2011-05-07T11:36:00.002-05:00

this was written in response to the civil war, a call to bring together mothers of soldiers north and south.

the catalyst of a mothers heart, broken.

broken open.

"arise, then, women of this day!
arise, all women who have hearts,
whether our baptism be of water or of tears!"

MOTHERS DAY PROCLAMATION (written in 1870 by Julia Ward Howe)

Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

hai-achoo-ku

2011-04-13T22:49:00.002-05:00

i used to think that
'allergy' was a moni-
ker for 'i need love'.

oh, how the mighty
have fallen. another dog-
ma lost, whist trees breed.

come she will

2011-04-11T22:02:00.004-05:00

it's national poetry month, and my super duper pal liz is doing a haiku a day.

liz is a poet. truly. (i think she has a degree to prove it and we all know about Ye Olde Caldecott)

i am not.

but i always like to throw my hat in the game come april,

because it feels like a gimmie.

a get out of jail free card. (or here i guess it would be an 'it's okay to suck at writing poetry and do it anyway' card)

and i feel like it today

cause the mister just jetted off across the pond again and i'm feeling wistful and melancholy and sad.

i'll stick with haiku cause i'm a big fan of boundaries.

and things that are Japanese.

and things that are short.

you were here almost
long enough for me to get
used to the having.

(rad pic by katie o)

is it crowded in here?

2011-02-08T16:25:00.005-06:00

i must admit, normally i abhor crowds.

i love people, but can only handle so many of them at a time, and tend to fall apart a little bit when faced with group conversation scenarios.

but there's is a crowd-dependent movement afoot and it's reminding me of the beauty of a gang.

a posse. a tribe.

we are witnessing in our current social and political landscape the slow disintegration of the 'uberpatron'.

thanks to the chipping away of our mythical fiscal indefatigability, the paradigm of the single-fund source for supporting the arts may be witnessing it's last days.

old paradigm 'uberpatrons': corporate (i.e. record labels and publishing companies), governmental (i.e. arts foundations and endowments), and private (i.e. grants and patronage) are all struggling to maintain viability as true promoters of diverse, non-homogenised arts endeavors.

rather than bemoan the loss of arts funding from these sources, however, i've been blown away at the various versions of micropatronage that have cropped up to take the place of the shrinking pool of single-source funding.

sites like kiva, kickstarter, indigogo, donors choose, as well as small individually driven campaigns promoted via facebook and other social media outlets have willingly and joyfully taken the baton and are running......

and passing the buck, so to speak, into the hands of us. the many of us who previously may have lived with the feeling that since we don't have the means to do much, that we may as well do nothing.

but if you take 10,000 people who each can't pitch in more then $10, or maybe even $5.... well, you can do the math.

and yes, this post is to announce The Beards' kickstarter page.

but honestly, it's also a love song to a new paradigm, one that has impacted my life considerably for the better. i feel grateful to be able to give, knowing that even though the amount i pitch in may be small compared to what is needed, that there is a crowd.

power to the people, y'all.

think we should maybe start a kickstarter page for the public school system???

new newness!

2011-02-03T11:31:00.008-06:00

well, we've been planning a bit of a new launch over here at ramonster world headquarters (RWH) for quite some time, now...

but there have been some, um, things that have delayed what we assumed* would be a new new years newness launch.

school closure threats**...

family projects***....

rolling blackouts****......

so anyway here we are! it's still kinda the beginning of the year, or at least kinda the beginning of feburary, whateves, so let's do this thing, shall we?

DRUMROLL....

we at RWH are proud to introduce:

RETAKES: custom embroidered school portraits

now you can take the much beloved/detested tradition of the yearly school pic and add some bonefied grade A klassy.

because you all know our motto 'round these parts;

"we here at RWH are nothing if not KLASSY-with-a-kay."

and people, we are here to share the klassy. with you.

you. are. welcome.

AND BECAUSE WE ARE NOTHING IF NOT k to the l to the ASS to the y.... for the month of febuary we are offering 20% off all RETAKES orders.

and yes, friends, that includes the original embroidered portrait as well as our very klever optional print packages.... just like at school, you can order extra prints to adorn the awaiting refrigerators of friends and family everywhere!

just type in the coupon code KLASSY on your superklassy orderform pop up dealieo that i'm very proud to have figured out how to get all up in the new site.

DID I JUST SAY NEW SITE????

yes i did.

check this cheese out, yo. tell me what you think! but only if the things that you think are good things.

now might be a good time to review the golden rule, shall we?

you know, the one you learned at school?

where you got your school picture taken?

the picture you're fixin' to get all klassified and bejazzled? yeah. that one.

so......... ready? set? LAUNCH!

*yes i know what it means when we assume, felix.
**still working on that one, stay tuned for details. in the meantime, 10% of all RETAKES orders will be donated to donorschoose.org projects that i fall in love with. micropatronage is the way of the future, my people!!
***very fun and exciting family projects that we will be sharing with you all very shortly. and no, i don't mean the flu. although that was also a recent family project that delayed this very exciting launch.
****okay i really can't use that one as an excuse as it was only 6 hours of one day, but it sounds very dramatic, doesn't it?

may the Task Force be with you.... or us, in this case.

2011-01-13T12:22:00.004-06:00

tonight i'll be attending, most likely with several hundred- if not thousand- others, a community meeting designed to promote dialogue and discourse on the subject of the potential closure of several of austins most beloved and high-functioning public schools.

well..... the meeting is not so much intended to promote 'dialogue' as much as, i guess, they have to give us the opportunity to stand up in front of them and say our peace.

for two minutes.

IF your name is picked from their lottery of names.

and they won't, or can't, respond to any points made or questions asked.

(which i understand is a logistical issue- things would drag on-nan-non-nan-noneenon if debate was allowed.)

BUT STILL.......

you may have guessed that one of the schools on the potential chopping block is Zilker elementary, or as i like to call it, "The School That Made Me Less Of An Insufferable Snob About Public Schools".

i'll save my born-again-like "Insufferable Advocate For Public Schooling" zeal for another post.

here i'd like to type out what i'm desperately hoping not to have to say, out loud, to this Task Force that will be sitting (not unlike the supreme court of mediocre problem-solving) at the helm of a ginormous... packed......... house........... so......... many........... people............ uugh.

public speaking is so not my jam.

but i will come armed with these words in my quaking hands in case my name does get drawn.....*

ahem....

to you, who have been charged with the unenviable task of carrying out the slash and burn dirty work of an underfunded and abused system-

to you all i'd like to say:

there is no way, in two minutes, i could even begin to scratch the surface of the myriad reasons that many, if not all, of these school closure proposals should be taken off the table.

so, i won't even try.

i don't have the energy to attempt to dumb-down the hundreds of hours of volunteer labor that the members of my amazing community have offered up in the last five days- the labor that has resulted in dozens of incredibly well researched and documented facts and figures, ideas and proposals that all tear to shreds the logic and rational behind the suggested closures you've placed on the table.

i don't want to offer you sound bites, but i do want to offer you one very sound suggestion.

listen to us.

really listen to us.

it seems only reasonable that before the district would opt to close a school, they would desire to exhaust each and every option for it's survival, am i right?

allow each school that sits, waiting for decapitation, to form it's OWN Task Force.

to gather it's own data.

and to be given the opportunity to sit down with you all, like the intelligent grown-ups that (most of us) claim to be.

and to turn over stones... together.

for more than two minutes.

we invite you into our school to come listen to us. to sit in our classrooms and walk through our hallways.

all of you. not as a token, (which is what your efforts of outreach have thus far been percieved as) but as an intergral piece of your decision making process.

but i would like to offer you one more suggestion as well:

come prepared.

*pleasenopleasenopleasenopleaseno

27; piles of thanks

2011-01-02T17:35:00.002-06:00

YO HO for the joy of the post christmas book pile.

this year we raked in several new literary scores, and

i'm not sure anything brings me closer to that feeling of child-like

revel-in-my-new-loot

sheer and utter heart-bursting thrill~

than to see the stack of books, hard-backed and soft,

full to brimming with ideas and information

awaiting download

via a cup of coffee and a comfortable chair.

day 26; thanks from the bleachers

2011-01-01T20:21:00.003-06:00

i haven't jumped off the gratitude bandwagon.

though there was a pause.

i'm still on it;

and actually

i like to picture myself sort of hanging off one of the sides, san fancisco cable car style,

wearing a red, gold and ivory marching band uniform with a tall fuzzy hat with an ostentatious shimmery

feather thing sticking straight out of the top.

this is a grand bandwagon to be upon, to be sure.

my fellow ridiculously bedecked band mates all similarly enthusiastic and geekishly grinning from

brace-faced ear to ear.

so today i am grateful for my band-mates,

my cabin-mates in the band camp of life,

my compadres, virtual and actual

(all are actual, some more digital, some more physical).

ye olde collective of friends and foe that make up the eclectic tribe in which i pow wow.

as a posse, you all look astonishingly beautiful from where i sit.

i would become immobile if it weren't for the strength i find in just watching you all from the wings,

and intermittently moving in and out among you.

i would kiss you all at band camp if i could.

25; thank you george lucas

2010-12-31T16:46:00.002-06:00

there are books i've gotten for my kids about

stuff i'm pretty sure is essential to what i want them to lean into while growing up and into this world.

books with little bedtime rituals that have meditative qualities and Buddhist undertones.

books with parables and ancient tales of morality with

beautiful artwork and and lovely language-

these are the books they normally look at with me when i ask them to.

but otherwise they largely go ignored.

i'm not concerned that they'll be forgoing moral teachings, however,

because where the kinder gentler books i gravitate toward may fail to capture their imaginations

they are worshiping at an alter where these the teachings are thus;

-fear leads to anger. anger leads to hate. hate leads to suffering.

-do. or do not. there is no try.

-you cannot accomplish what you cannot believe you can accomplish.

did you guys know that return of the jedi was originally titled 'revenge of the jedi' but at the

last minute, after all the posters and schwag were made for the movie,

someone pointed out to george lucas that

revenge was not the way of the jedi.

and george agreed.

and called back all the merch and schwag and stuff

and changed the name.

yup.

i'm so so grateful for star wars.

21, 22, 23, 24

2010-12-24T10:18:00.002-06:00

21; town lake trail.

how many times have i arrived under the mopac bridge, fraught with what if's, and why's?

and then, the turning of the path that i know like the tops of my children's heads sifts the thoughts,

shaking out the excess and leaving the foundation.

and i arrive back where i started.

22; my running buddy(s)

countless hours and hundreds of miles of pre-sunrise therapy and camaraderie.

picking apart the doings of days past while gearing up for the day that breaks while we patter around the trail.

running with tears in our eyes,

some days from the cold

some days from yesterdays dramas

some days from compassion and helpless longings.

but mostly from the salty stinging of sweat dripping down.

23; chai

the making of it as comforting as the imbibing

24; chai with eggnog

just for two months at the end of the year,

yet so gluttonously over-consumed as to ensure another years worth of

journeys to town lake trail, buddied and solo

pattering off the nog, step by step by step.

day 19; stop. day 20; go.

2010-12-22T09:50:00.003-06:00

oh, how i loves me a steady rhythm of my home place.

i am a shameless creature of habit and routine.

5:20, pick up on jesse street. run.

home, pack lunches, kids dropped by 7:40.

work pick up swim team dinner bed.

rolling out the moments to the minutes.

hours to days with

a depth of comfort layered in the predictable family playlist.

nuance, subtlety. and dance.

i do love the tick tock of it all.

but then comes the break.

a bubble in time when there is a sanctioned segmentation of norm.

methodical diversion.

some days, or perhaps weeks, where permission is granted to pull a full stop. and reign it all in.

or throw it all out.

no lunches to be packed, not a playdate to deliver, calender cleared and curtains drawn.

i love how ready i am for the change of pace.

to slow it all down.

and then

i love that i'm (almost) always ready

when the time comes

to pick the pace back up and merge

grateful for same. grateful for change.

grateful for when the two are a symbiotic (non-traumatizing) yin and yang.

day 17, 18;

2010-12-20T08:16:00.002-06:00

seventeen:

i've taken the opportunity here to espouse my abiding adoration of my immediate family here on these virtual blog pages,

but i'm not only lucky to wholeheartedly adore my blood homies.

i also managed to marry into a family that stays up late playing games together

watching movies and laughing together

i married into a family where each sibling found their own winding road to happiness, thereby bringing

more members to the game table, all of with whom i'm smitten.

i love my husband's family.

and i love that i look forward to seeing my in-laws, espically this time of year when i know so many people who are slogging through family reunion time.

which brings me to

eighteen:

aunties.

my firstborn is relishing her relationship with her aunties as she approaches this funny pre-adolecent stage of turning from in to out to in.

she has aunties who are ernest, kind, hilarious, thoughtful, talented and, most importantly,

who appreciate the unique roll of being auntie to a 10 year old girl.

holding sacred the connections that sometimes i can't and won't be able to make.

much gratitude to my sisters of blood and marriage

day 16; sweet loretta

2010-12-18T21:58:00.002-06:00

i'm grateful for my stalwart companion,

my overnighter,

my 26.2, she who goes the distance.

sweet loretta juki.

14, 15;

2010-12-15T22:35:00.003-06:00

number 14.

today, again, i tripped over the jutting remains of the wall that i struggled valiantly for years to construct.

the one that has almost entirely (but not quite) been torn down, brick by agonizingly hand placed brick.

the wall that separates me from them.

me from them that the bad things happen too.

one brick is organic produce
another is yoga
another is a drawer full of vitamins
one is moderation
one is driving safely
another is book learning
one is avoiding vaccinations
one is another run around the trail

brick by brick we build a wall to ensure our individual version of national security.

based on myth and hope; blocking out more than we could ever protect.

a fortress of myth and hope, and fear.

and yet, still,

a father has a brain tumor
a husband is diagnosed with cancer
a sister has an aneurysm
a fiance a heart attack.

every instance ripe with the potential to mutate into another brick, another story.

we don't, therefore.

they do, therefore.

can't happen to us.

can't happen to mine.

but when the wall has been torn down, (we do, they do. they do, we do. can happen to us. can happen to mine.) it's foundation licked clean clear to bare earth, then the hiding behind the wall option is.... removed.

and as much as i desperately try to reconstruct that wall, i can't.

and as much as i pine for my leveraged security,

i'm grateful for this forced freedom, too.

bare, raw and scary.

in it is trust and wonder and love.

day 12, day 13; wow, thanks.

2010-12-13T09:34:00.002-06:00

today is a two-fer.

today i am grateful for L L Bean and the other various incoming currency streams that have shown up in our unpredictable dual artist household.

thank you, L L Bean.

it is because of said unexpected, unpredictable (and rarely but sometimes actually abundant) income streams that we were able to zip out of town for a night.

(just the two of us, The Beard and I.)

(that. never. ever. happens. ever.)

(ever.)

so again, thanks, L L Bean.

which brings me to Le Grat number 13, lucky-me 13,

because today i am also grateful for works of art so beautiful that they are by nature both

powerful and insecure,

like a storm formation-

when they blow through you they have the ability to rearrange your molecules

and leave you shaken, and changed,

and wobbly from the transformation.

we flew away for the night to be rearranged;

and while i was sitting, watching,

i felt so elated, and so sad.

elated from the sheer magnitude and perfection and collaborative beauty of it all

sad at it's mortal fragility.

so absolutely very perfect. (so very full of Life. with a capitol L)

thank you (i BOW DOWN on my hands and knees) to the makers of things that crystallize the entire spectrum of an emotional life

into an experience.

hot diggity dog, how do they do it?

day 11; thanks be to bedtime

2010-12-11T22:33:00.003-06:00

today i am feeling especially beholden to this sacred church of mine.

*aw testify*

here i come undone and here i reset the stones of my foundation.

*can i git a witnesssss?*

here is why i may not be able to attend the party full of people who i love and who i'd love to see.

here is where the moments of my day lead me. to what i crave.

*gawd is a gracious and benevolent gawd*

a table, one set of rapidograph pens, a laptop (30 rock on netflix), one sierra nevada.

here it is; right. now.

the kids, in bed. asleep.

the husband, at work, doing what he came here to do.

me. here.

the two or so hours after the kids are asleep i almost always spend alone.

it's The Beards office hours, so the house is quiet, and there's work to be done.

once the dishes get done (and yes sometimes before they do) i settle.

and i wish i could describe the quality of the settling. ( i keep wanting to use words like 'bliss' and 'peace' etc etc, but those words keep making me want to throw up in my mouth.)

but it is the same kind of hit, for me, that an adrenalin junkie must get from a skydive.

it's when i like to make things that aren't J.O.B. related, which most of the time are drarrrrrrings, and sometimes i knit. but sometimes i find a thing on the interwebs that is just too tempting... (and are also pragmatic in that they get made and then get played with, so it's win win win):

(p.s. the pattern for these cool boats is here)

day 10; thanks mom

2010-12-10T11:22:00.005-06:00

i think that when it comes down to it,

we are all really striving

(when we are striving, which we are not all doing all of the time)

for one basic grand prize.

one goal that is the seed starter of myriad epic journeys.

unconditional love... right?

love, free-standing. autonomous. anonymous.

it looks really great in the books that you read about it. really epic and majestic.

but what does unconditional love actually look like?

well, perhaps it looks

like accepting a child so unlike you; instead of molding that child to your liking.

and more than just accepting this strange little alien being; but teasing out and engaging these differences, in order to see the world through new eyes and glean new perspective.

it looks like watching a teenage child who has lost her foot hold in security and self confidence. watching her, and never saying a word about the clothes, the hair, the music.

watching and withholding judgement, but never withholding unshakable strength, or an undeniable mama's-got-your-back-no-matter-what quiet presence.

it looks like watching your spouse slip away from you in this conscious plane of existence, consumed by illness and depression through no fault of his own, daily growing more dependant on the tending to, and less able to reciprocate.

it looks like the laundry and the stains

it looks like the concept of leaving never even being on the table for discussion

it looks driving to mcdonalds every day for 15 plus years to buy lunch for one- and that one is not yourself, because you detest mcdonalds.

what does unconditional love look like?

to me, it looks positively perfectly exactly like my mom.

i strive every day to be as great a mom as my own.

and it's a lot to live up to.*

happy birthday, mom. i love you. and i am grateful to you and for you.

*luckily, among the other big-picture things she modeled for us kids, was one of the most hard-core work ethics you will ever bear witness too. so i try, and will keep trying, REALLY REALLY REEEEEEEALLY hard.

p.s. this drawrrrring is for my mom, for her birthday.
i have read reread that passage i posted from the prophet in post #8 about two hundred bajillion times and it reads new everytime.
what can we do?
if we bend ourselves to shoot our arrows into the path of the infinite-
but if we shoot them do we aim?
or if we shoot them from the seat of our hearts-
that place where unconditional love sits-
and then play with faith and trust (those fickle mistresses)-
then is that all we can do that is true and right???
that's what my mom did.
she bent, and she sent forth her arrows with a trust so deep
it's origion could only be
this pure love.

day 9; our thanks, holds on, holds on.

2010-12-09T23:03:00.001-06:00

today i am grateful for steve perry.

the end.

day 8; thanks, boy

2010-12-08T23:04:00.005-06:00

what does a boy bring?

besides wicked dance moves,

non-sequatorial* jokes;

quips and questions about god and the universe,

and heart-melting morning, i-don't-want-to-get-out-of-bed-mommy-please-carry-me-downstairs-mommy warm breath into your neck snuggles?

what does a boy bring?

the beautiful smashing of ego, the humbling deconstruction of dogma-

the reality that even though The Girl complied with your well read ideals of alternative progressive child rearing by her quiet bookish well spoken demeanor,

you can read the books, you can take the classes, you can ed-uuu-kate yourself silly with attachment this and unconditional that,

and then the boy...

the boy will shoot you in your head with what to The Girl was a fairy stick wand but to Him is... a gun

or a

shiv that once was an apple slice or a tortilla chip.

and that boy will BEEEEG you for the most graphically violent video game, that someone mentioned on the playground, and that EVERYONE BUT HIM GETS TO PLAY....

and you will tear your hair and wonder where you went wrong- which book you missed, which workshop you should have attended...... until you burst out LAUGHING

(like a mad woman but laughing)

and you will love that damn BOY so damn HARD

and you will shoot him back and shiv him in the neck (and compromise on a non-violent video game...).

and you will hold your books and classes more lightly and you will

soften to right and wrong.

and you will forever remember that your children are not your children

they are the sons and the daughters of lifes longing for itself

and maybe there was an added layer (weaponry being heavily featured) when kahlil g. wrote:

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

i love my rainbow warrior, weapon carrier.

you bend me. may i let it be for gladness. may you hit your mark upon the path of the infinite.

thank you for meeting us here, thing two.

*i make up words sometimes.

day 7; thanks

2010-12-07T22:59:00.002-06:00

because he helped me to see;

gave me his eye;

passed a loaded baton;

a toolbag;

a sentance.

because he forced me to see;

lift a veil;

chuckle, and high-five.

thanks, dad.

day 6; JD thanks

2010-12-06T22:44:00.002-06:00

we have an official Lebeck family album.

and i don't mean the photographic kind.

(though we have that, too. it's HUGE. and red. and still my favorite thing to spend an afternoon pouring over)

no we have an official Lebeck family music album.

one that every member (of my family of origin, not my little nuclear here in austin. The Beard is contrary but we're winning the war) uniformly loves with such a deep abiding passion that it's very mention can bring tears and laughter without even hearing a note.

and it's a chrismas album.

John Denver and the Muppets- a Christmas Together.

and i don't allow myself to play it during the rest of the year, in order to preserve that precious annual moment; the initial December spin.

that was tonight.

instant joy in a digital (now on MP3) format.

and it conjures my parents, sister, cousins into my home, energetically, in a note.

and there's this one song;

listen if you get the chance, but here are the lyrics:

it's in everyone of us
to be wise.
find your heart.
open up both your eyes.
we can all know everything
without ever knowing why.
it's in everyone of us
by and by.

oh sweet perfection of december, a la JD and the gang.

day 5; thanks

2010-12-05T21:31:00.002-06:00

i fly when i put on my shoes.

i am not fast nor am i particularly graceful,

a gazelle? that i am not.*

i trod, shuffle and skip.

never jog, nooooo. not a jogger. not I.

a runner. a RUNNER!

my shoes are my portal to a trodding meditation.

my shoes, laying where i last unlaced them,

wait.

wait.

then we pounce! and flee, for a bit.

and there is the metronome of them and me.

the tempo of rubber, gravel and breath breath breath.

until the sometimes unbearable frequency of moments spent sedentary slows.

i'm grateful for my shoes, and my time spent with them.

*i could, and have paid to be a gazelle. but i don't think it made me very pretty.

day 4; thanks

2010-12-04T23:07:00.002-06:00

it hasn't always been pretty.

when you go to prom with someone,

then choose the same college,

you end up weathering the entire spectrum of the growing up process with them.

IF you stick together,

(and by stick together, i actually mean like some kind of glue. often tacky, incredibly painful to rip off the skin, bonding when you want it to be and sometimes when you don't.)

IF you jump the hurdles of the side tracks, the wandering, the sameness, the constricting and the expanding,

then sometimes

(rarely but sometimes)

you end up with this thing that is very much like love but also has traces of all the other things;

the anger the resentment the betrayal the frustration.

yet, then, that thing that is very much like love is actually more pure than love untempered~

maybe pure is the wrong word~

wound, held, seen, forgiven, slung, fought for, ran from, risen above, sunk below...

a fleshed out spectrum that continues to expand, like the universe.

i don't know how i ended up being the lucky recipient of this tangled love

but it means more to me than almost anything.

today, as everyday, i'm ever so grateful for this funny man.

somehow, i see us in this thing from the dawning of time till the end of the end of the end.

love.

i can't write him a song, so i drew him a picture.

day 3; humble thanks

2010-12-03T11:18:00.003-06:00

a phrase, a motto, a mantra.

crystallized sentiment, strength in shared experience, the extraordinary commonness of ecstasy and hardship.

four words that can lift me from atrophy and ground me from harried perpetual motion.

not sure why these four; but to the person who first said them, thousands of years ago,

(i always picture an adorable tiny Japanese monk with a wink and a giggle)

i give thanks, and surrender to their simple wisdom.

before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.

after enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.

day two, mercy buckets.

2010-12-02T21:00:00.003-06:00

thing one.

life transformer.

big strong girl.

thanks for picking us.

day one danka

2010-12-01T21:31:00.003-06:00

jote has brought a worthy challenge to the table-

to state a gratitude a day, for each day of december.

(minus one.)

30 days, 30 tiny seeds to sow.

i wonder at the flowers to come, the beans and fruit, the ephemeral harvest.

so today is day 1. easy-peasy.

it's my sister's birthday!

today, some years ago, longer ago than i am, was born the she who was to be my big sister.

and though she is many things that would amaze all of you and shock some of you (there have been feather headdresses and sequined thongs in her varied and romantic history),

she is most of all to me, my sister who takes care.

who gives mindfully and generously.

who 'loans' and refuses repayment.

who takes note and remembers.

she is many things that have autonomy from my experience, but where she and i meet she is the living embodiment of home.

i'm grateful for deb, who's birthday it is today.

montana

2010-11-17T21:25:00.006-06:00

i'm not sure sometimes if it's montana that i miss,

or if it's that montana seems to be the exact middle point of reference on my experiantial spectrum.

it is the place where i hovered, momentarily, between jumping and falling.

(if jumping is efforting for upward motion and falling is unconscious and organic unfolding.)

i ran there. i jumped there.

and there i hovered in suspended animation and had such moments-

perfect and melencholy moments-

it felt intoxicating to feel so lonely.

maybe it's the innocence that lonelyness was then that i miss.

sweet and so uncomplicated in it's darkness.

new work:: E.A.S.T

2010-11-12T13:33:00.002-06:00

hung up some new stuff for E.A.S.T.

it's here:

Ethan Azarian In House Gallery, 2514 E. 17th St, Austin, TX 78702, 512.628.020

or in EAST termanology, it's stop 110a.

ethans stuff is always fun, and his wife, melissa knight is super duper fantastico.

she cuts up fabric and turns the tiny tiny pieces into beautiful things like this:

i really want this. it's so much nicer in person, too. go see it. but don't buy it.

or do. but if you do, let me know so that i can come visit it.

suitcase loot

2010-11-05T08:49:00.004-05:00

so part of the fun of being married to a musician, besides the glory of months of single parenting, the excitement of an unpredictable family budget and the liberation from the monotony of any kind of evening time spent together, is the thrill of traveling the world vicariously through your continent-hopping spouse.

i mean who really wants to leave the house anyway? i mean what a HASSLE, right? i mean might as well let him do it and tell us about it. or if he's not really TELLING us about it at least he's tweeting to his FANS about it..... which is kind of like telling us about it..... right? RIGHT?

actually he does tell us about it. and he calls and he emails, he sends postcards and he ichats. and he misses us and we miss him and someday, SOMEDAY we'll all get to go somewhere together.

plus he brings back fun stuff. the funnest stuff always comes from japan. and my favorite fun stuff is the edible kind of stuff.

down below here? those are WASABI KIT KATS, PEOPLE.

i mean, COME ON.

it almost makes staying home worth it when he comes back with stuff like this.

ALMOST.

a>

boo.

2010-10-27T09:43:00.003-05:00

we did a little decorating for Halloween.

busted out the potato's for stamping (thank you martha stewart for the inspiration- yes i said martha stewart. she may be hoity and classist but she's still the queen.) and got all super spooky up in here.

but i feel as though i should admit something here.

i really don't like Halloween.

i'm sure it's most likely a sign that i'm deeply repressed, or something of that nature.

but Halloween, to me, has always felt fraught with pressure.

where as to many, Halloween is an allowance to become something wildly other, i've always felt a resistance to this overbearing connection between costume and freedom.

i think freedom, to me, comes more in the form of anonymity. the opposite of anything that might draw attention to myself, is what i mean.

not a mask, or make up, or a wig to draw over my identity, but a withdrawal of my identity from a sometimes scary feeling swirl of communal energy.

costumes ask that you be assessed.

"what are you?"

what am i not that i want to become for a night? what do i want to be for Halloween?

invisible.

for bernadette, with us and alone.

2010-10-12T09:10:00.005-05:00

bearing witness to a dear friend in pain is to clearly see both the intensity of our interconnectedness, as well as the utter solitude of our individual experience.

while we rush in and try to busy ourselves with the doingness of not knowing what to do, we quietly know that we can only provide a shallow and temporary respite from the vast emptiness that abides.

grief is work done alone; it waits for breathing spaces where it can rise and fall.

a community is a beautiful organism during times of grieving. necessary.

still, to grieve is to weave in and out of community and family with gratitude and alienation.

grateful to be surrounded by love and support, and also so distant from the world; so deep is the hole.

and the us, the we, we stand by and watch the solitude of tempering. the alchemy.

and throw ropes.

gone baby gone

2010-09-30T20:58:00.004-05:00

so..... i done went and got my hairs cut.

and, as much as i wish i could say that it was a split second decision-

that i did it on a whim-

that it just seemed right and easy and hey, why not?

it actually wasn't any of those things.

i'd been mulling over the idea of chopping off my braids for months, but was having a truly difficult time wrestling with a multitude of tiny rascal demons- those pesky red buggers that sit atop one shoulder or another- and whisper things in your ear.

some of the things they whispered were utterly laughable and blatantly shallow. vanities and perception. these were fairly easy to ignore.

what i mean is, it's not like i have to worry about missing out on landing that cosmo cover shoot i'd been shortlisted for, no matter what i do to my hair. right? feel free to debate me on this one.

*crickets*

but it comes down to the fact that my looks have never been something i've been given the opportunity to leverage, and are, in fact, something i'm more likely to try to ignore than obsess upon.

and still, doubt seeps in. creeps in. red tiny deeeevils sit and pass their dirty judgement.

and, when given the opportunity, those wee bastards know just how to claw their dastardly way past the cilia and mucus membranes struggling valiantly to usher them out of the musky passageways to where we hide our deep deep deepest fears.

and from somewhere primal and internal they say things like:

everything you've come to know you've stored
in your cells;
and your cells and their ancient memory
have stored these pains
these
triumphs
these moments of flight and cowardice.
and you are wearing these cells; this life on your shoulders and you wrap it in braids and you see it there-
and it is the scroll of your hard fought degree.

lose it and lose it all.

and yet, sometimes the idea of losing it all

don't seem

like such a bad idea after all.

10 years of cells reproducing, madly, wriggling their way up up up to find the light like......

like.......

like thousands of tiny chia seeds sprouting, performing the miracle of manifested evolution.

my sistah from anotha mothah jote- a fellow long hair gone shorty- hugged me when she saw me post-cut, and when i mentioned how utterly redunkulous i was feeling for having felt like i'd crashed around in something metaphysical while contemplating something as stupid as a haircut, she told me about how she, being raised sikh, was taught that to cut your hair really was to wound yourself energetically.

to expose the raw nerve endings of your upper chakras.

and how, to grow, and keep the sacred growth anchored atop your skull, focused your energy in meditation up and out the top of you, up to the divine, up to god's pull chain.

so.................... there's that.

and then there's the seductive longing for metamorphosis.

i mean, what exactly is the butterfly left with that was once a caterpillar?

an ego? a memory? a foundation? a regret? a goodbye? a diving board?

snip. snip. chop.

spying

2010-09-22T20:58:00.002-05:00

speaks to a leaf

opens mouth to swallow rain

makes a face of wild primal danger, then

swats a field of mushrooms- newly sprung from overnight rain.

speaks to a leaf

scoops water from the streetside gutter-river

a throw

a mimic

a growl

speaks to a leaf.

here am i, standing frozen, paint peeling off the porch floor under my feet-

porch screen, filthy and allowing this anonamous witness,

watching the child who, unawares, moves unwatched,

moves unseen, who

speaks to a leaf.

finding something to inhabit for a spell

2010-09-06T20:46:00.004-05:00

our summer was really great.

like really, really great.

like 5 weeks with The Mister in tow; great american family road trip style great.

we were in 'do' mode. 'go' mode.

there were places to go, people to see, activities and destinations and friends old and new.

a plethora of external stimuli.

which was really fun.

camping in the redwoods, camping in the mountians, backpacking with grandma.... plays, concerts, family, tattoos....

and, when all was said and done, i was also really very ready to be home.

i'm actually not much of a traveler. i blame my double cancerian nature, but maybe i'm just dull. who knows.

anyway, i was ready to putter in my yard, sweep my floors, run on familiar trails and find that beautiful yet elusive quiet comfortable home groove....

yet for some reason my children were struggling with settling in.

first there was The Beard's day of departure, always unsettling for the kids and i, and this one more so knowing that we'll be seeing more of the girl's swim team coach then we will of dear old dad for the next several months.

then there was school starting, and the chaos surrounding that whole upheaval.

new after school activities, new classmates, new new new.....

and though all of us were ever more and more desperate for down down double dog down time, when we were given moments of quiet time at home, often we ended up with tears, arguments, hair pulling, declorations of boardom, and generall all around discontentedness.

this weekend we celebrated a birthday, brunched with old friends, supped with old friends, swam with old friends.... and by today, this labor day.... i, like legions of union workers nation wide, needed a damn day off of..... everything.

the kids were restless, however.

'find a project', i begged.... 'let's make a list of things to make' i suggested....

'read a book'...

'shoot some hoops'.....

'pracitce piano', 'write a poem', 'sew a gift', 'write a thank you card'.....

'just find something to DO! something that at the end of the day will leave you feeling like you've DONE something..." i heard myself mutter, over and over....

i wanted THEM to find something so that I could DO SOMETHING THAT MADE ME FEEL LIKE I'D DONE SOMETHING.

they didn't.

the wouldn't.

they couldn't.

well, i finally gave up on suggestions. instead, i plopped down at the easel i'd several times suggested they work at.

and just started to paint.

(i was being subversive. i'll admit i had a plan all along.)

i just picked up a paintbrush and started outlining a drawing.

on a piece of scrap wood that felt sturdy and professional...

using a palate that felt artsy and professional...

and blatently copying a drawing i'd found in my new favorite magazine.

sure enough, first one came over.

he asked to paint.

then the other wandered over, her stubborn refusal to participate worn down by the obvious mother/son bonding going on in the art room.

so i generously allowed the girl to take my brush, and then veeeeeery quietly.... veeeeeeery sloooowly...... backed away.

and managed to clean the entire kitchen, vaccum the upstars AND give myself a (truly bad) haircut all before the bickering began to flare up again and we opted to spend the remainder of the afternoon at the pool.....

sometimes a blank canvas is just too much. a 'do anything' day can quickly feel overwhelming with potential and inertia sets in. we've all been there.

so laying down a sketch, a template, a head start....?

some might say coersion. some might call it paint by numbers.

meh.

there are many days i wish someone would be so kind as to sketch a bit on one of my blank canvas'.

(if you're thinking 'that's what she said' right now, high five your monitor.)

coming soon to a befuddled heart near you!!

2010-06-17T10:22:00.003-05:00

1. it's not me, it's you.

2. it's not you, it's me.

3. it's not me, it's not you, it's us.

4. there is no you, there is no me.

5. um....... *scratches head*

saw this on our way to pick peaches:

and boy howdy, it can't come soon enough.

c'mon. c'mon. C'MON!!

keepin' it random

2010-06-08T13:33:00.003-05:00

consistency is for monks.

we're keepin' it totally random and mildly schizophrenic ovah heah at ramonster world headquarters.

projects of late have included....:

a sew along skirt tutorial and a guest on the editorial board over at sew mama sew.....

some shirts for an ice cream man...

a hand fasting cord for a wedding ceremony officiated by the (very) honorable bernadette noll...

and that doesn't even count the most important activities taking place in our summer world, which look a little less textile based and a little more damp:

happy schizo summer, everybodeee!

file under: ways to impress your children

2010-05-17T21:32:00.002-05:00

Hash Mark Things I Do For Fun:

i wish i had a picture of the truly tough looking battle scars i received flying headlong over my bike handlebars BEFORE i got to this deluxe mud pit (which my friend shannon likes to call the petri dish).

all with my children bearing witness.

my children, i do believe, not only love me more....

they also fear me more.

win-win.

when in doubt, bust out the blood, sweat and mud. watch their little eyes bug out of their heads.

it also doesn't hurt to make barking noises and laugh maniacally.

ruff. ruff.

buddad

2010-05-03T22:01:00.003-05:00

this weekend was the perfect tuck in, clean up, slow down family weekend.

sometimes i just wish i could wrap my fambily up in a bubble and keep us all here, as is. preserved.

i joke about our bubble. the homestead. my closest peeps. our neighborhood. familiarity.

bubble life is the life for me.

tip o' the hat to you world travelers out there- i salute you. and live vicariously through you.

but i'm quite happy here. in the bubble.

the kids will need to leave it. i know it.

i welcome it.

but now they are small, and our world can be small, too.

so, picking up some veggie starters at the nursery this weekend, The Beard found a perfect deity for our bubble.

he looks an awful lot like my dad. and he's round like a bubble.

he's the buddad.

and he's come just in time to protect the bubble. because soon comes the years when the small people need to expand the delicate dimensions.

he reminds me to smile and send a piece of me with them.

and to rest, as well as i might, in the knowledge that he's with them, too. the buddad.

keeper of things funny, and irreverant. things creative and heart-centric. fambily.

and unknown and trusting, and chubby.

buddad.

tightropes and ear candy

2010-04-22T08:38:00.004-05:00

whoops. forgot to do installment number three yesterday of my 'five random top five lists' series. i girls gotta squeeze in some honest work here and there, after all, and yesterday i finally managed to get this little number out the door into the hands of it's patient new owner.

so today i'll do two top fives, but i'm making them bullet points, so don't distract me or ask me to elaborate.

and yes, that was me just blogging out loud to myself. but isn't a blog, by nature, a place where you blog out loud to yourself?

which brings me to the first of todays top fives:

TOP FIVE FINE LINES I STRUGGLE TO NAVIGATE:

1. of being in service to others: micro managing vs. abandoning, a.k.a. fight or flight.

2. of being in service to myself: going easy on myself vs. relinquishing my standards, a.k.a. grace vs. sloth

3. of being in service to my children: denial vs. control, a.k.a. hiding vs. helicoptoring

4. of being in service to my marriage: devotion vs. competition, a.k.a co-dependence vs. dominance

5. of being in service to the world: internal growth vs. external action, a.k.a. little me vs. big me

and to make up for yesterday,

TOP FIVE PODCASTS I'M STARTING TO GET SICK OF* CAUSE I NEED NEW PODCAST RECCOMENDS (hint, hint**)

1. this american life

2. speaking of faith

3. you look nice today

4. the moth

5. radio lab

*they are still my favorites

**now you know my taste. feel free to drop reccomendations. others i dabble in listening to; smodcast, risk, insights at the edge, studio 360, sound of young america, planet money, buddhist geeks and ted talks- which are almost always awesome but i also love to have favorites pointed out....

carry on.

blues, schtay away frum me.

2010-04-20T08:18:00.002-05:00

and in today's installment of five utterly random top five lists, we have....

TOP FIVE THINGS I DO WHEN I FEEL LESS PERKY THAN NORMAL (*ahemiamneverperkey*) OR POSSIBLY EVEN DOWNRIGHT BLUE.

1- try a cup of yogi tea. (pictured above is the carcass of spices ravaged.)

2- go for a run. (not too short, not too long. juuuuuust right. which one day might be 4 miles and one day might be 15. i was about to say 'and one day might be 20', but who are we kidding? 20 mile runs are about anything BUT finding what's just right. that doesn't make them in and of themselves wholly wrong, and they might help you accomplish some kind of medicinal balance in the greater arc of life, but c'mon.)

3- pick a song from the grand triumvirate, and make it play loud somewhere where there are no other people. (i've said it before, i'll say it again. the grand triumvirate: Thunder Road by B-Spring; Tiny Dancer by E-John; and Faithfully by J..... by Journey. any one of these three can lift me up off the ground in the deepest of despairs.... well, at least they can lift me off the ground when i'm crabby, sleepy or hormonal.)

4- go jump in barton springs. (those of you in austin know that of which i speak. to those of you not in austin i say "sorry suckaaaaaaas! what whaaat?)

5- begin a haiku-off via email with one of my lady friends. (pick any typical cougar theme, i.e. high school track boys, vampires, tim riggins, reading glasses, or college track boys. keep sending haikus back and forth to each other until either your husband or your children move beyond gently requesting your mental presence and start threatening to pour maple syrup on your laptop.)

there you are. go forth in good, wholesome cheer.

monday top five: mmmmmmm me hungryyyy

2010-04-19T08:22:00.004-05:00

these photos have nothing to do with what i'm posting about today. i'm just posting them because i am feeling entrepreneurial today and thought i'd remind folks that they are available. for purchase.

this week i'll be posting five top five lists.

why?

i have no idea.

i just had several links that i wanted to post and thought it would be more creative? nay! provocative! daring! enticing! to do it in the form of top five lists. also add trendy and self-serving to my TOP FIVE ADJECTIVES TO DESCRIBE WHY I'M DOING TOP FIVE LISTS.

all this and more awaits you, my friends.

so, with that, i give you:

MY TOP FIVE RESOURCES FOR WHAT TO SHOVE IN YOUR PIEHOLE:

*101 cookbooks (have yet to hit a dud recipe. two faves for this dairy and gluten free household- vegan mac and cheese and palak daal.)

*super natural cooking (it's actually written by the woman behind 101 cookbooks. but it's worth getting the hard copy. it's beautiful and quite possibly the most inspiring and delicious cookbook i've ever owned since baking with julia. *sigh.* oh how i do miss the gluten sometimes. sorry julia, you done been kicked out.) (thanks, deb)

*bless her heart (jote takes the most beauteemous photos and can always bring a tear to mine eye. plus her wee girl and my wee girl are superpals, and i have the most embarrassing crush on her whole family. get this- her sixth grade boy actually ENJOYS spending time with my kindergartner. at least he does a damn fine job of faking it. that's rare, y'all. mad mothering props for that one, jote.)

*gluten-free girl and the chef (it's gluten free, and not lame. not at all lame. there is much lameness in the land free of gluten... picture this: not one but TWO of the GF cookbooks i own have, on their covers, a photo of a kid on a rope swing that i think is supposed to make you think, "gluten FREE! YES!! that child on the swing looks so FREE! not getting to eat crusty, chewy, delicious sourdough bread and doughnuts does not SUCK! it makes me, like this smiling child, feel FREE!!!" you either get that, or you get something that looks as though it was made on a 1984 K-Pro word processor. lame.)

*nourishing traditions (soak things. dehydrate things. eat some stuff raw and some stuff cooked for a looooong time. butter is your friend. bacon is not necessarily your friend, but if you choose to put pork in your belly, our friend sally says you can lay your guilt to rest about the nourishing qualities of a slice or two every now and again. it's fine, says she. save your agonizing for the greater moral quandary concerning the state of livestock production or possibly the existential rational behind slaughtering living things for the sake of our unquenchable needs. basically, nourishing traditions states that our bodies evolved to eat foods prepared as they have been for millenia. yet we have, in the last 100 years, changed EVERYTHING about how we grow, harvest, process and prepare food. our bodies can't evolve that quickly, therefore we need to slow things down a bit so as not to basically starve to death all while incessantly stuffing our faces with food that does not sustain us.

sooo...... anything to add to this list?

bring it.

would art for pirates be called arght? har har har

2010-04-13T13:27:00.000-05:00

i just updated my etsy shop with the stuff i made for my last show.

i've never put my illustration stuff out in the world in this way, and honestly, it's making me a wee bit barfy-feeling.

so, i'll take this time and space to just remind you all of The Golden Rule.

carry on.

the conflict of fun

2010-04-12T08:36:00.002-05:00

have you seen this movie?

we just returned from a weekend wedding in new orleans-

it was fun to watch the kids wander through the french quarter, eyeballing the characters that haunt the corners-

sights and sounds that normally might give cause for ear-muffage and motherly eye blinds instead were relished as part of the native experience.

pralines were munched.

mudbug tails were pinched.

beignets, and the accompanying mountains of powdered sugar were blissfully inhaled.

but the movie..... it crept into my mind over and over and over.

moving through the world consciously while simultaneously experiencing it fully can sometimes feel confusing.

sometimes, someone hands you a string of beads and you respectfully decline.

sometimes, when someone hands you a string of beads, you just put them on and dance.

shifting F stop, or so to speak.

2010-04-01T09:47:00.004-05:00

sometimes life goes by in a blur.

and then when it slows, and you catch a glimpse of something in focus, it's can be hard to tell if it's hideous or hilarious before it begins to blur around the edges again.

howdy sew mama sewists!

2010-03-08T21:43:00.004-06:00

hi to everyone popping on over from sew mama sew!

velkommen!

salutations, etc etc.

i love giving myself permission to sew up fun new things like this here colette pattern by badgering those fine wimmins at sew mama sew to send over a pattern or two for review.

i love the idea of making time in my schedule to 'do something for myself'. (read: 'distract myself from the jobs i really should be doing'.)

then, once said item is sewn, i love coming back to the realization that, at thirty seven years old, i love nothing more than my decidedly glamour-less life of jeans, tee shirts, running clothes and vintage pumas.

i will not wear a delicate linen embroidered blouse.

merely uttering the word 'blouse' makes me tug uncomfortably at my non-existant collar.

so, my friends, old and new, i'd like to send this blouse to a loving home.

a blouse-tolerant home.

is it yours?

i will be picking a commenter at random.

however, for my own selfish entertainment i am asking that if you'd like to enter your fine self in the running for this colette 'sencha' blouse, you need only give me your opinion on who is funnier: zach galifianakis, david cross, tina fey, jim gaffigan, or the fug girls. AND WHY.

or nominate your own funniest person. WHY NOT? it's craziness all up in here.

specs: blouse is made of 100% linen and is a size 4, and i'd call it a roomy size 4.

oh and this is open to any and everyone, not just you sew mama sew loyalists. the five of you who randomly and accidentally end up reading my blog all on your own are welcome to jump on in here yourselves.

pricing your work

2010-02-24T08:16:00.002-06:00

LOOK! we had a snow day here in austin tejas!!! they are infrequent enough here that the novelty of actual accumulation of white stuff on the ground is cause for extreme levels of giddiness and peals of spontaneous laughter.

i know those of you in parts northern are likely shaking your heads and rolling your eyes. i can take it.

on a completely unrelated note;

i am often asked questions by folks getting a crafty biz off the ground about things such as pricing goods.

i usually tell them that they should be asking that question of someone who's actually answered it reasonably for themselves already.

i love what i do and am always amazed and grateful to have as much work as i do, but when a single garment can easily take upwards of a week and i'm normally charging in the range of $350 to $400 per piece, it doesn't exactly add up to monetary sustainability let alone do much for my kids college accounts.

i found this post today, via design sponge, and it has inspired me to take a long hard look at my own pricing structures, as well as spread the information around to those seeking to set themselves up for a long and happy and possibly even fiscally abundant future.

so for those of you trying to figure out your own business, there ya go.

for those of you considering placing an order with me, i'd get on it before I come to my senses and take my own (or in this case lauren venell's) advice.

which probably won't happen any time soon.

but you never know.

evening entertainment

2010-02-17T21:35:00.003-06:00

too rainbow bright? nah....

2010-02-04T23:16:00.001-06:00

mothering: from lame to rad, in seven minutes.

2010-01-30T21:09:00.005-06:00

how to wow your children, make them love you more, convince them you have magic kitchen skillz, and silence them with awe all at once:

SEVEN MINUTE FROSTING.

it's also how to turn a failed attempt at hiding both a sad lack of gluteny goodness, as well as the addition of several 'nutritional' ingredient substitutions into .............THE BEST CUPCAKES YOU'VE EVER MADE MOM EVER EVER EVER.

ta freakin da. the magic of sugar and egg whites.

*applause*

(bowing)

recipe: fluffy angelic magic wonder happy fluff, a.k.a. seven minute frosting:
-this one courtesy of Fanny Farmer...

1 1/2 C sugar
1/2 C water
1/4 t cream of tartar
1/4 t salt
3 egg whites
1 1/2 t vanilla

(how can so few ingredients turn into fluffy angelic magic wonder happy fluff, you may ask yourself? shhhh..... let me explain...)

mix the sugar water and cream of tartar in a sauce pan, swirling to combine.
fire up the heat and bring to a boil. let it boil till it's all clear (4-5 min), then throw a lid on the mother and let it rip for one more minute.
uncover, then using a candy thermometer that's not touching the bottom of the pan, let the mixture boil till your thermometer reads 240 F.
meanwhile, beat the egg whites till they're stiff but moist. (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAstiffbutmoistHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)
when the syrup is ready, continue beating the egg whites while pouring the syrup into the egg whites in a thin steady stream.*
beat for a couple minutes (HAHAHA)
then add vanilla.

voila. let them fall on their knees and commence worshipment.

try to restrain the urge to smother a cigarette butt out somewhere near a tiny face whist uttering the phrase, "tell me about it, STUD."

go forth and ice the world**, my friends.

you. are. welcome.

*respeck the syrup. as in, don't let small children do this. as in, the syrup has been known to put competent adults in the burn ward, swathed with bandages and crying for their childhood pets.

**you may just want to start off small. like maybe go forth and ice those nasty muffins you made from that recipe you got from some damn earth mama on your local attachment parenting list serve who SWORE her kids loved them and ate every last flaxy, spinachy crumb..... ice the crap outta those. do it for me. i'm begging you.

we're back!!

2010-01-29T08:53:00.003-06:00

Future Craft Collective has been taking a bit of a breather for the last few months....

we've been in incubation mode, planning and preparing to relaunch and.......

WRITE A WHOLE BOOK. (eek.)

today's the day!

we're back.

reunited, and it feeeeeels so good!

(well, really we see each other all the time but it's been awhile since we've had regular work hours together....)

great things a comin'. i see 'em comin'.

sigh.

2010-01-26T08:51:00.003-06:00

very little makes me happier than gazing at an ezra jack keats book.

i don't think i'll ever really try too hard to figure out why.

the smallest small in kingdom sever picked this print out for me for chirstmas this year.

and i can't help but just love that my five year old told his daddy that he wanted to get me a picture from 'mommy's favorite book'.

sweet boys.

in my house, a couple of them.

and now, on my wall, too.

barber shop musings

2010-01-21T21:16:00.004-06:00

i enjoy cutting the children's hair.

i find it cathartic on many levels.

shorter hair is obviously easier to maintain.

it is also easier to spot unwanted guests that may attempt to hitch a ride home from school and take up residence.

plus i'm less likely to catch myself behaving in annoying and cliche momesque type ways, i.e. licking my fingers to tame stray hairs, or, heaven forbid, begging a child to please remove errant angsty bangs from covering HER BEAUTIFUL FACE (mom i like my bangs like that. *swat* mom please stop touching my hair.*swat* MOM LEAVE IT.*uppercut left hook*)

secretly, however, i think it's the subtle power of wielding a pair of sharp scissors- and hovering so... very... close... to their precious little faces- and being able to whisper in a voice dripping with sweetness....

"hold very still. very, very still."

then, drawing a breath together; while you both hold as motionless as possible and lingering in the moment of this looming task that requires both presence and strength....

somehow in each snip of the scissors and each lock of hair that falls to the floor is

trust. stillness. rebirth.

and all for the low low price of a buck and some candy.

(i'm SO not above bribery. this is the beauty of withholding sugar and television. they serve as potent currency. if that's wrong, i don't wanna be right, so zip it, alfie kohinites.)

snip.

snip.

snip.

a decade of ramona

2010-01-15T08:27:00.008-06:00

January is moving quickly by.

but i'm still sort of just getting around to absorbing the fact that a round decade is now past.

(here i nod to liz, who's post on the scope of her ought decade was food for the thoughts laid down here.)

in January of 2000, i was

a pastry chef

2 years married, with no children

partner to an electrician who moonlit playing gigs

lucky to have a few good friends

daughter to two loving parents, in sickness and in health

a wannabe painter

struggling to find a peaceful head space in an outwardly, at least by today's standards, more peaceful world.

in January of 2010, i am

a seamstress of sorts, edging her way towards that scary "a" word, still hung up on calling herself an artist.

12 years married, with two children

partner to a musician who daylights as a musician

deeply grateful for an abundance of dance partners, hand holders, rock widows, trail runners, yoginis, class takers, meal makers, siblings by birth and by choice, co-mamas, mama mamas, and truest loves.

daughter to two loving parents, one of the earth, one of my heart

a wannabe painter

peeling back layer after layer, discovering and attempting to maintain an ever-present inner peace in the midst of an outwardly more war torn world.

January of 2000, eldest daughter was conceived. (ewww. don't think too hard about that one.)

i can't help but feel like i owe just about everything i have now, to her.

every growing pain and birthing pain and sleepless night and challenge to my 'authority' and worry worry worry worry.....

that has led to this vast multiplication and amplification of everything good there is in the world.

thanks to her, the spectrum of my life has broadened and continues to broaden daily.

a decade of ramona; my baby, my guru.

the bacon wins again

2010-01-13T08:34:00.004-06:00

just as i went about loudly proclaiming hither and yon about our families most self-rightous and entitled sounding goal of going 90% vegetarian.....*

i was reminded of ye most ironic law of healthy eats in the fifedom sever....

anything green will be unquestionably, enthusiastically and joyously devoured.....

when you sprinkle it with.....

.....wait for it.....

bacon.

*for the record i find vegetarianism neither self-rightous nor entitled by nature. i often do, however, find those that talk ad nauseum about vegetarianism to be both. i'm not proud of this fact. i work on my judgments.

i do.

sisters past and present, and cookies.

2010-01-11T21:19:00.006-06:00

today's post was inspired by Jote and Deb.

Jote, cause she's my sister from another life, and Deb, cause she's my sister from this one.

Jote has inspired me to take more pretty pictures and post them on my weblog here and Debbie, hmm.... well let me just paint you this picture about my sister Debbie...:

i have this kid with all these special dietary needs and who i'm normally scrambling to feed when in other peoples houses during unplanned snack or meal times.

pain. in. the. ass. (but he's so cute i don't mind really i don't he's just gotta look at me with those big eyes and smile)

so here's what it's like to go to Auntie Debbies house:

walk in the door.

put stuff down.

walk in the kitchen.

see several (i did say several) types of home baked cookies, breads, pies, ecetera, ecetera, ecetera..... ALL of them gluten, dairy, yadda yadda FREE, all of them available for instant and terribly gratifying pie-hole-shoving to my wee sensitivo.

oh happy day! oh what a sister, what an auntie! huzzah!

never mind the hand knit washcloths, home made wood toys and ample stash of some variety of not-for-the-smalls dairy and gluten laden treats stashed away for after bedtime.

this is the comfort and joy that is a visit to Deb's.

anyway, one of the cookies deb had whipped up when we were there visiting for Christmas was one i thought i'd like to share.

gluten free? check.

dairy free? check.

cardboard tasting like most cookies that fit this bill? absolutely NO NO NO, my fine friends!

these, in fact, were the most crack-like cookies of the holiday to me, and i had the opportunity to taste some that contained the demon gluten!!! they're seriously delish.

(and good for you. BORING.... *yawn*)

deb got these from mothering magazine, to give cred where cred is due, i reckon.

flourless sesame almond cookies

1/2 cup sesame seeds
1 cup almonds
1/2 cup softened coconut oil or butter (she and i go with the coconut oil)
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 cup arrowroot
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons dehydrated cane juice
1 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon grated orange rind
2 to 3 tablespoons water or orange juice

preheat oven to 300 degrees. in food processor or blender, grind sesame seeds and almonds to powder. in mixing bowl or in food processor, mix in remaining ingredients except liquid. add liquid a little at a time till dough holds together. place walnut sized balls on oiled cookie sheets about 3 inches apart. press balls with fork twice to form a criss cross pattern. bake 20 to 22 minutes, or until bottom and edges are golden.

so folks, to summarize:

easy, good for you, like crack. (not good for you like crack, as in crack is good for you- but BOTH good for you AS WELL as like crack, as in ADDICTIVE, as in MUST CONSUME MORE OF LIKE LIFE DEPENDS ON IT*)

*i've heard this is what it is like with The Crack. i have not tried it.**

**i would recommend you also not try it.***

***crack, that is, not the cookies.****

****go ahead and try the cookies.*****

*****TRY THE DAMN COOKIES I SAID.

the stamina to ask

2010-01-06T21:19:00.004-06:00

in taking up the challange of a couple of friends who opted to begin their year with the audatious concept of stating clearly and for all to see what exactly they want out of 2010;

in the spirit of accountability;

in the face of that temptress of safe haven we call self doubt;

in honor of holding myself up to my own standards;

and in hopes that i'll find clarity in the writing;

calling in, oh 2010, oh year of the toes touching the earth once again after a significant and necessary hover-

*abundant trusting and inspired clients,

*opportunities to showcase a broad range of my work,

*a brilliant and joyful and very complete book,

*knapsack laden children willingly hiking long and lovely miles,

*ever deepening appreciation of a certian bearded fellow,

*tendrils ever curling around my radical tribe,

*devotion and wonder and practice.

*devotion-

*and wonder-

*and practice.

2010

2010-01-06T10:07:00.002-06:00

here i insert some requisite line about how us here at ramonster world headquarters are "looking forward" into the new year or some crap like that. consider it said. meh.

oh.

2009-12-08T09:24:00.003-06:00

file under #whydidn'tithinkofthat?

link is touching it

2009-12-01T10:39:00.002-06:00

yup. link larkin is touching something i made.

dreams do come true, people.

a list of some things.

2009-11-18T21:31:00.007-06:00

a list of things.

thing one: this is a picture of a camera strap i recently made for my friend leon. it was commissioned by his partner, stella, also my friend. i like it. they also liked it. i am now making one for stella because she liked it and wanted one, too. it's only fair.

thing two: i think i managed to annoy several people who came to the opening at yard dog for jenny hart's show, in which i had a piece. i would like to publicly apologize. i recall, not unlike a well choreographed piece of performance art, in succession; nervous laughter, rapid fire non-sequiturs, tugging up of baggy tights, awkward silences.

so, so sorry.

thing three: i have read several radical books lately. (i am using radical here in an homage to the 'lingo' of my youth, not to infer that i am supporting an agenda or particular manifesto.) i would like to say to you, dear reader, that i have read them. this should serve a two fold purpose. a) to inform you of their worth as literature. b) so that you will see that i have read them and use them as a means with which to judge my character and personal integrity.

THREE BOOKS THAT I HAVE READ*: Zeitoun. Born to Run. Stitches.

all three accomplished the somewhat momentous task of actually luring me off evening facebook binges whilst i was still able to see straight enough to turn pages. i recommend all three highly.

thing four: i went to see The Swell Season on sunday night. i'll summarize my experience by simply stating that although i began my evening semi-obsessively concerned with remaining in the good graces of my most treasured and worshipped babysitter- who doesn't like to baby-sit, but will for me, as long as i only ask every once in awhile, and sometimes it doesn't hurt to bake her a pie- yet by the end of the evening we were over an hour late home and i never once during the entire show looked at my phone to check either the time or to make sure nobody at home had befallen some horrific fate. it. was. that. good.

thing five: bernadette and i signed a book deal. for a future craft collective book. and it's gonna be radical. (and i leave the usage of this word in this context up to the readers discretion.)

*thanks go out to L. Scanlon** for doing my pre-reading. always appreciated.

**please also note that pre-reader L. Scanlon wrote a book that was recently placed on the new york times ten best in children's literature for 2009 book list. and where that's all fine and good for her i'd also like for you to bear in mind that the information that she is in fact a close friend can be used, in combination with my thorough reading of said Very Interesting Books, to further round out your opinion of my worthiness.

notes to otherworlds and the creatures who inhabit them...

2009-11-06T08:52:00.002-06:00

i had to share the eldest child's last letter to the tooth fairy, whom she long ago decided was a most curious phenomenon and one she was determined to get to the bottom of.

she always has left letters with her teeth, with inquisitions into the foundations from which to build her concept of fairydom.

but this one, well, you almost can't help but feel sorry for the poor sprite.

pencils are very heavy to fairies, it turns out....

Dear, tooth fairy

Hello! please don't take my tooth! can you make arlos (arlo is my brother) tooth come loose? his left top front tooth? he really wants a loose tooth!

are you happy where you live?
what do you do with all the teeth?
can fairy's loose teeth?
how old are you?
do you have kids?
do you have a mom?
do you have a dad?
do you only go to kids in austin?
whats your name.
what color are you?
are you a regular color?
my friend willie got a book from a tooth fairy once do you know what i mean?
do you have sharp teeth do you live in pixie hollow?
do you know tinker bell?
do you go to school?
if so what grade are you in?
what age do fairys stop growing at?
how tall are you?
do you like to read?
have you ever been to the beach?
do you know what gymnastics is?
do you have a computer?
do you have a camera?
do you have a ipod?
do you have a job do you have a pet?
if so what kind?
is there such a thing as a pet fairy?
can they give kids pets?
do you know what the harry potter siries of books is?
my mom is on the third!
are you scared of the dark?
do you know who michel jackson is?
do you have a record player?
what's your favrote place in austin?
I am 4.1 feet tall!
can you lift this pencil?
do you have any enamys?
can you make me fly? please!!

love Ramona

p.s. have you gone trick or treating

dia de los muertos

2009-11-02T12:23:00.002-06:00

The Beard managed to find this picture somewhere, in honor of Day of the Dead.

somewhere between losing my dad over a 20 year time span and losing our kitty in a matter of weeks, is where someday i think i'll find balance.

not today.

almost november...

2009-10-30T08:53:00.004-05:00

here's a recently finished custom job, for you're viewing pleasure.

and hey, it's almost november, so if you're entertaining the idea of placing a christmas order, might i suggest you shoot me an email to let me know?

now's the time.

i can still take around 5-6 jobs for under-the-tree deadlines.

just an idea.

you can email me at kathie@ramonsterwear.com

over and out.

morning movement

2009-10-28T09:07:00.002-05:00

i can not stop listening to this.

listen and see if this song don't make you want to kiss somebody.*

*these kinds of songs, they make me want to kiss people. in particular, who ever is singing them. lucky for me i married the guy who sings at least a small percentage of these kinds of songs.

the rest of the time i use creative visualization.

just sayin'.

an open letter to my kid's art teacher.

2009-10-23T22:32:00.004-05:00

first off, let me preface this letter by saying that i was raised by a mother who taught in the public school system for close to 50 years, so i am no stranger to the challenges of a classroom of diverse kids and all their myriad needs and issues.

i honor anyone who serves their community by answering the call to teach. so for that, i thank you.

i am troubled, however, after a conversation with my son's kindergarten teacher today regarding his report card.

my son had been so excited to show me his very first report card today at pick up- he was pointing out all the numbers and telling me what he thought they meant, finally joining ranks with his big sister after years of watching her navigate this Zilker school with confidence.

i've never put much energy into monitoring my kids grades- i've been lucky to have a first child who has, from day one, adored everything about school and has fairly breezed through her subjects.

but i must admit that i was dumbfounded by the fact that my son, brand new to school, and just finding his stride, was awarded a two. out of four. and in of all things, art. a subject with which, at least at home, he has an intimate and blissfully symbiotic relationship.

It would be one thing if i had noticed that his other grades were lowish, or if his behavior grades were iffy. but no- all other grades were good, threes, fours- all but this one.

Art.

ART? what? a kindergartner getting a low grade in art? i just couldn't wrap my brain around it.

so i tracked down my son's kinder teacher to ask her opinion- and what she said to me has left me shaken.

she said that her team, at least, was being encouraged to use two as a 'baseline' grade- meaning that two is 'average'.

she said she was told to hold off on threes and fours unless she saw truly outstanding qualities in a child.

that leaves two grades above average in which to situate the strata of 'gifted' kids and only one grade below with which to send a more dire and powerful message.

while i understand the desire to set up a system that encourages kids to strive for their best, i was more powerfully disheartened by the collateral damage that this type of hierarchical system creates.

this is elementary school, after all.

these are little children who are most well served by existing in a space in which they are free from the heavy handed judgements of adults who are eager for them to fall in line with a system which begs for uniformity.

i realize that it may sound as if i am asking for a complete overhaul of the public school infrastructure. *

but in all honesty what i am really asking for here is a reason-

a legitimate, an empathetic, a grounded and powerful reason-

why, in ART OF ALL SUBJECTS, if a child is present- if a child is non disruptive and willing to put pen to paper- why on earth a kindergarten art class wouldn't be the safe zone-

the judgement free zone-

to lift EVERY child up as high as possible and celebrate the vast and untapped potential that may still lie dormant, but that is coiled there none the less.

i am not here to argue my child's unseen artistic genius.

but i will bear witness to the reality that he is a boy steeped in the arts-

he is living and breathing a life that is so full of the love of art that even if he's not managing yet to churn out a product that would pass whatever standardized art testing there may be in the world, he. has. art.

it may not be fine art.

it may not be drawing painting sculpting regurgitating whatever it is you want to see as proof of understanding.

but art is not and should not be about product.

art is not about what i can show you.

it's about what i am, and what i leave space for, and how i wrap a complex understanding of beauty and interconnectedness around every facet of every breath i take.

so if you want to call your class a 'drawing' class, and give my boy a two, then so be it.

call it 'spatial understanding'. call it 'cutting and pasting'.

but don't call it art.

the art that i've spent my entire life in varying degrees of relationship with would never in a million years give a five year old boy, a KINDERGARTEN boy, a two. it wouldn't give a grade. ever.

ever.

i'm not asking you to teach him art. i feel fairly certain that between myself, my husband, and the amazing, diverse, ever-evolving, organic, powerful network of vibrant artists that haunt his daily life, we've got that covered.

but please, PLEASE, don't un-teach him art.**

*i am, but that's a differnt post.

** don't F with my kids. just don't do it. i may be small, but i'm scrappy and ever so full of rightous indignation.

thanks, dad.

2009-10-21T21:23:00.006-05:00

some of you know that i lost my dad in March.

although i actually lost him a very long time before that, in that way that certain illnesses have of sort of stealing away with the parts of a person that make you theirs and them yours.

and i think that i may spend a very very long time rolling around in the weeds with the whys. it's become a daily practice. a mindful practice. an asking. asking. (and when mindfulness ebbs then there is the begging, the bargaining.)

mostly there is waiting. (insert whistle)

however, it's rather intoxicating, the allure of The Answer.

sometimes i feel like i could very easily be swept away in a rush of white cloth that would swaddle me, hush my cynicism and effortlessly provide The Answer.

often i'm fairly sure that The Book that is on hold at the library waiting for pick up will be the one through which is revealed The Answer.

frequently it's next mondays yoga practice or tomorrows meditation that will ferry me merrily on my incredibly (and adorably) enlightened way to The Answer.

i'm sure when the kids are older and i'm spending long weekends on retreat at Naropa that then The Answer will be blatant. offensively obvious. tiresome, even.

but until The Answer arrives,

of one thing i am sure.

through unknowable means and via intangible channels,

dad may not be providing Answers,

but damn if he's not slipping me cards under the table.

(and i'm fighting so. hard. right now not to end this with "and they're all aces" or "and it looks like i've wound up with a full house" or "and i'm flush with hearts". uugh. oh man this is paaaaainful. can you feel me? you can. i know it.)

*insert relevant promotional information here*

i've been invited to put a piece or two in a group show that will open nov 6th at yard dog gallery.

the show is called "over and under- embroidery as art" and it's curated by none other than jenny hart.

i'm very excited.

and yes, it's very relevant to me, the post about my dad and the announcement about this show.

thanks, dad. this one is ALL for you.

sing song

2009-10-08T22:06:00.006-05:00

i married a boy who writes songs.

he's written songs as long as i've known him, and i've known him since we were sixteen.

(prom, high school musical, first kiss, the whole ugly deal)

he writes songs about a lot of things. about our cat. about old friends. about people he doesn't like.

and he also writes songs about me. and for me.

as an apology. or in gratitude. or with sadness.

and i love his songs. some more than others, some with gratitude. some with sadness.

but tomorrow he is officially sending out into the world a song that he didn't write.

a song that somehow has managed to carve a permanent home in an already full heart.

there are the songs, built of his words, which i cherish. these songs, however, sometimes tug a heart string or two that (due to their proximity to relevant and sometimes fragile memories) bring up a note of sad. sometimes mad. sometimes sorry.

but this is a song that was not mine. or it was, perhaps, because out of all the songs in the world, i chose it.

the story is not mine. or it was, perhaps, because i made it.

but it was a song i shared with a million angst filled broken hearts. which was wonderful. and tragic. and universal.

until i heard it again. rebuilt. and made just for me.

the lyrics don't hold the burden of being plucked from the throws of a teary night.

nor do they hold the hopes of a boy's heart i never want to see ache.

but the words are still there. and perfect. and they are both utterly silly and heart breakingly lovely.

it makes me feel like a sixteen year old, the giddy anticipation of hearing it.

i can't wait for everyone to hear it.

happy lucky me

2009-10-05T21:50:00.002-05:00

i love my clients.

run for the water

2009-09-23T21:33:00.001-05:00

oh gilbert, how can one person be so inspirational and so utterly goofy at the same time?

let me ammend that, it takes an utterly goofy you to be as inspirational as you are.

imma run for dat water.

Gazelle Foundation Run for the Water 10 Miler, 5K, and Kids K from michael madison on Vimeo.

2009-09-21T09:26:00.003-05:00

i'm a bit behind on turning over orders.

that's nothing new for me.

i'm forever trying to balance the need to move orders through in a timely fashion, with my obsessive tendency to want to spend a truly silly number of work hours ever evolving the concept of what ever thing i'm working on.

it'd be swell, i think, this tendency of mine, if i had a patron and was gearing up for a major retrospective.

but that's not exactly the case. (i say not exactly because though i'm not technically hooked up with a 'patron' per say, my sister has gifted me for the last several years a coffee card to an unnamed national-chain coffee joint* that re-ups with twenty bucks every. dang. month.) (which makes me feel kind of like a kept woman.) (in a good way.**)

so, in the meantime untill a more mortgage-payment-based patron comes along, i need to figure out a way to turn out an order in under sixty labor hours. for the sake of good old fashioned business sense.

it dosen't really help when the husband leaves to go on the road and the kids get swine flu, but i ain't complainin'.

i'm just sayin'.

if you're out there waiting on an order, wondering what the frickity frack is taking so long, please know that this is not an issue of neglect on my part.

where there is work, there is love.

but if you wanted to send a mail-order nanny, or housekeeper, maybe a chef or a stand-in kids school voulenteer, that COULD expediate things a bit.

ahem.

*apologies to much beloved local coffee joints. sort of. but you can pry my starbucks card from my cold, dead hand.

**thanks deb. i love ya.

tiny shifts

2009-09-18T22:09:00.005-05:00

all my life i've had a reoccuring dream that i was drowning.

the senario is often different, but the crux is this: i'm drowning.

the funny (funny weird not really funny haha but now that i think of it kinda funny haha too) thing is that what makes the dream nightmareish is not the moment where i opt to draw in the breath that i know will fill my lungs with water, it's the moments leading up to that point.

the dread. the resistance. the story of woe and loss.

but here's the funny part...

once i finally give in to the biomechanical inevitability, and my lungs fill with water....

every.

time.

i make the same discovery.

that it didn't kill me.

that i can breathe underwater.

i have, so many times, woken from this dream with relief. always a bit shakey, but also always just grateful that my subconscious pulled me through again.

lately the dream has begun to be more fully revealed to me in these strange and tiny shifts.

baby steps.

first, i realized that the resistance was what was causing the pain. the arctypal tale of a mother unable to return to her children. the sorrow of dreams unrealized.

lesson? resistance=pain. so....

okay. roger that.

next, i realized that once i did let go, albiet because i absolutly had to, i survived. lived to tell the tale.

allllllrighty. dualy noted. letting go=survival, or salvation? something with that flavor, for sure.

shoulda been obvious, but some of us are slower than others.

most recently a different piece of the puzzle has seemed to fall into place. and this may sound really strange to some of you, and others of you, perhaps, are hitting yourselves on the temple with a "no duh, kathie" kind of motion.

but this i think may just be the deeper truth that this everpresent dream has been so doggedily attempting to drill into my thick skull~

that if we let go of our fears it may cost us our lives.

but if we hold on to our fears, well.... that might kill us just the same.

and in the meantime, lives filled with fear? not so fun. sharp with agony, i'd venture.

and the big picture?

well,

what may appear as death to us?

it might not be the end afterall.

breathe deep, my friends.

september special

2009-09-14T21:54:00.004-05:00

ooh and i forgot to mention that if you order in september i'll personalize any child's garment with a hand embroidered name. take that, Ron Popeil.

etsy update!

2009-09-12T12:53:00.001-05:00

hey i listed some stuff on etsy!

summer 09

2009-08-17T23:29:00.002-05:00

summer 09 is quietly tip-toeing away...

a few highlights:

8 year old beginning swim team season completly terrified, and finishing with blue ribbons and giant grins.

5 year old learning to ride a two wheeler, and turning into a fish (as long as he has his goggles on)...

8 and 5 year olds hitting the trail for their first backpack trip. 8 yr old carries her own load with no complaints, 5 yr old carries a camelback with half a day's water and will only hike if promised lemon drops and chocolate. neither 5 nor 8 year old can keep up with grandma, who blazes an inspiring trail.

8 and 5 year olds joining their uncle G in front of a thousand dinner theatre attendees, and getting to hug peter pan (played by a 57 year old kathy rigby).

5 year old doing his first public perfomance of his oft practiced and yet ever improving moon walk.

as for me, this summer has included several great books, many bike rides, nearly daily swims, letting go of running, yoga with children, sisters of blood and of heart, quiet, chaos, questions and memories.

this summer has not included much in the way of work. and i do love my work.

so as the summer wraps up and i find the strength to send two small folk off to the big world of school, i am feeling bittersweet.

i love summers.

but i'm ready to love fall, too.

sew mama sew pattern review!

2009-07-23T11:54:00.002-05:00

oh, and i also just did a pattern review of this pattern over at the sew mama sew blog. i've loved being given the opportunity to do these reviews. it's a fun diversion and this time i even managed to wrangle myself a new dress out of it!

thanks to the lovely folks over at Sew Mama Sew, and to the creative folk over at Colette patterns for the hook up.

summer break....

2009-07-23T11:35:00.003-05:00

in case folks haven't noticed, i'm taking the summer off from the blogisphere... there's been ample swimming, camping, reading, making, seeing and doing with the family to keep me away from the computer for these three precious months of family time.
keep up with recent stuff over at the craft magazine blog, where Future Craft Collective is doing a weekly DIY summer camp program, and check out my flickr page for recent projects and little bits of life.
school days will be here soon, and this fall i'm sending two small people off to the big world of elementary school (eep.), so until then i'll be relishing these lingering days of summer...

cleaning up

2009-05-27T21:56:00.003-05:00

yes, yes- it's that time of year, friends.

time to clean up our messy lives, to see what all we find whence the piles be gone.

i'm letting the mounds and heaps and stacks of books and papers and dishes and toys sit for awhile longer, however.

right now i'm doing a little internal tidying.

my first juice cleanse.

i had a moment yesterday, at whole foods, purchasing organic parsley, beets and cabbage that i was intending to JUICEFORMYJUICECLEANSE, that if you take that lovely little scenario, and slip it right up next to the fact that i was at said whole foods in my SPANDEXCAPRIS and TECHTEE that loudly proclaimed my ability to fork over $125 to run 26.2 miles on public pavement, and throw that all up in the sad truth that i drove to said whole foods wearing said SPANDEXCAPRIS and "LOOKATMEIRANAMARATHON" shirt IN A...wait for it.... MINIVAN...

so, yeah.

hello middle age, right? entitled, american middle age? hello, i'm kathie. let's make friends.

truth is, though, that it's not half bad from over here. it's embarrassing as hell, and it makes me want to dye my hair green and get another tattoo, but truth is, i won't.

cause this whole middle age thing is also bringing a funny new phenomenon along with it.

i believe the term for it is peace.

so the juice fast actually is partially because i do have this annoying persistent muffin top issue i'd like to address.

but the muffin top and i, we're making friends, too. (with the muffin top comes the muffins, right? and the ice cream, sierra nevada, whole milk, and cupcakes? right? and we all how how tight i am with those guys...)

and it's also another way to dig around and clean up inside. and i don't just mean colonicly speaking.

but don't get me wrong- next week i'll be shoveling whatever solid foodstuffs enters my line of sight. beware ye bread product!

hey, i'll need the strength to clean externally.

peace out.

p.s. if you see me dragging my self around town crawling on my hands and knees with a cardboard sign that says "for the love of christ would somebody just force feed me a cookie already?" ...

WALK ON BY.

we have a winner!

2009-05-25T21:57:00.003-05:00

well, all i can say is it was random! and painful, as there were several of you who posted comments who i totally owe stuff to. you know who you are.

but the winning comment was from robin:

Once a man said that we would have a black president when pigs fly. And then. . . swine flu.

I want that tunic. The end.

and i've gotta admit, it was the one and only joke i actually repeated to my husband.

what? it's funny!

THAT BEING SAID, all the jokes and haikus and general hilarity was all so dang entertaining i've decided imma gunna try that trick again, to see if i can cajole more out of you normally silent lurkers.....

i'll dangle free stuff if you'll just remind me every once in awhile that you're actually out there.

i see you on my stats page- (that's right i check my stats, just like i check out what my ass looks like in tight jeans, i'm like that.) but why you never call me, baby? huh?

so there it is. it's less like me yelling "DANCE MONKEY" and more like me pleading "TELL ME YOU LOVE ME".

but stay tuned cause i'm hanging the next bait chunk on the hook.

2009-05-20T21:59:00.002-05:00

i did this fun pattern review over at sew mama sew... i had a great time putting the whole thing together, however i was left with the knowledge that the girl in our household that could actually fit into this dandy little garment would never actually wear it.

so here we have a size 7/8 girls tunic, made from the modkid "frida" pattern, that desperatly needs a good home.

here's the scoop: leave me a comment with a either a joke or a haiku or a heart wrenching story about how bad you need this tunic.

on monday immagonna randomly pick a winner. and i'll send said winner this little number. and if the joke, haiku or story in your randomly picked comment is especially good, who knows? maybe i'll throw in a little sumthin' extra. just cause. cause i'm like that. kind, that is, and spontaious.

and tidy, and great with money. and tall. you don't know. why are you smiling like that? YOU DON'T KNOW.