The guy that owns the greenhouse is quite possibly the happiest person in the world, plus he's a giant. He's like an excited Big Bird with a long pony tail. He's awesome. He's one of those people that you instantly like because he emanates pure joy. As we wandered looking at trees way, he came up to us. Here is how the conversation went:
BB: Aren't those birches awesome?! (I never combine my exclamations with my question marks, but that is the only way I could capture his enthusiasm, and I still didn't do it justice.)
Me: Yeah, we have an empty lot next to our house and we wo-
BB: ORCHARD!! (he throws up some jazz hands)
Me: Maybe, bu-
BB: Oh yeah, an orchard. Pears, apples, cherries...(whistles through his teeth with a dreamy look in his eye as he rocks back on his heels).
My Husband (Ryan): Watches quietly with his hands in his pockets, a happy little smile on his face.
Me: Or these birches...
BB: Mmmm hmmm, mmmm hmmmm. Imagine the pies.
Me: Pies...I like pies.
BB: Well, look around. These birches are native, so they'd do real well for ya'.
Me: Pies...
We kept looking, and eventually we started talking to BB again because the trees we already have tend to get a little sickly.
BB: Oh, sounds like you have Scale. You might need some Lime Magnesium (I can't remember exactly what chemical he said, so I'm making it up).
Husband: Still quiet, nods his head.
BB: Looks at Ryan. Yeah, you know about the Lime Machomeesa.
Ryan: Nods again.
When you've been with the same person for a significant amount of time, you develop an unspoken language. It goes way beyond body language, and is derived instead from an intimate knowledge of the other person. So intimate, that all you need is a little bit of context to understand exactly what is happening in their mind. Here is what was happening between us at this moment.
Me: I glance at Ryan, and my look says, You don't know anything about Lime Mancala.
Ryan: Does not return my glance, but in so doing he says, I know that you know that I don't know the first thing about Lime Mandolin, but I don't want to interrupt. Just go with it.
So, we finish up our conversation, look at a few more trees, and leave. We totally forgot to get the Lime Of Monte Cristo. As we are driving away, Ryan says:
Ryan: Am?
Me: Yeah?
Ryan: I don't know anything about Lime Mandungus.
Me: I know, Sweety.
Ryan: Lunch?
Me: Yes. How about some pie?
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
The Day I Got Nothing Done
I had a hard time pulling it together today. I did not have to work, but my husband did, so I had the house to myself. Perfect time to get started on jewelry for this summer's show, no? I got up brightish and early-ish (a.k.a my dogs jumped on my head until I stumbled out of bed), brewed my coffee, ate my cereal, and...watched an episode of Smash on my DVR. Okay, once that was done I thought about putting on my shoes and getting my run out of the way. I thought about it, but what I actually did was, wait for it, watch another episode of Smash. I'm behind, okay? It's been a busy couple of weeks.
So, once I got caught up on Smash (Uma Thurman, you vixen, you), I looked at the clock and thought I had enough time to run before my hair appointment. I promise you I was headed for my shoes when the phone rang. It was my dear friend whom I have not spoken to since...Wednesday. So, I settled in for a nice long chat. She's doing well, by the way. Thank you for asking.
By the time I hung up the phone I had reached the red zone--the place where you absolutely must get in the shower within the next 45 seconds or you will be terribly late for whatever appointment awaits you. The red zone happens at different times for all women, for me it is exactly 53 minutes before whatever I have scheduled. For example, if my hair appointment was at 1:00 p.m., I absolutely must be in the shower and fairly wet by, at the latest, 12:07. 12:08 is pushing it, at 12:09 I may as well just put on some deodorant and clean socks and call it good.
After making all my appointments (I was only a teensy bit late), I just did not have the energy for that run. I did, however, make some beads. But, I was feeling just a little off-my timing just wasn't there. Here is one of the scariest things about working with glass. If you heat it too fast, it shatters and sends tiny, hot little shards right toward your face. I have never actually been hit in the face, but it is still quite terrifying. What's worse, when this happens, I jerk my head back really hard which really hurts because whenever I am working glass in the flame, I tilt my head to look at it. So, basically, I look at my glass the same way my dog looks at me when I say any of these words:
Ball.
So, once I got caught up on Smash (Uma Thurman, you vixen, you), I looked at the clock and thought I had enough time to run before my hair appointment. I promise you I was headed for my shoes when the phone rang. It was my dear friend whom I have not spoken to since...Wednesday. So, I settled in for a nice long chat. She's doing well, by the way. Thank you for asking.
By the time I hung up the phone I had reached the red zone--the place where you absolutely must get in the shower within the next 45 seconds or you will be terribly late for whatever appointment awaits you. The red zone happens at different times for all women, for me it is exactly 53 minutes before whatever I have scheduled. For example, if my hair appointment was at 1:00 p.m., I absolutely must be in the shower and fairly wet by, at the latest, 12:07. 12:08 is pushing it, at 12:09 I may as well just put on some deodorant and clean socks and call it good.
After making all my appointments (I was only a teensy bit late), I just did not have the energy for that run. I did, however, make some beads. But, I was feeling just a little off-my timing just wasn't there. Here is one of the scariest things about working with glass. If you heat it too fast, it shatters and sends tiny, hot little shards right toward your face. I have never actually been hit in the face, but it is still quite terrifying. What's worse, when this happens, I jerk my head back really hard which really hurts because whenever I am working glass in the flame, I tilt my head to look at it. So, basically, I look at my glass the same way my dog looks at me when I say any of these words:
Ball.
Walk.
Or, Bone.
So, you see, jerking your head back when your neck is all twisted really hurts. But, I did end up with these little pretties.
I think they're worth a little whiplash.
Yup.
Well, here's to a more productive Saturday!
Monday, April 16, 2012
Over The Moon
I am trying to get my head back into my real life right now. I was away for almost a week at a conference put on by the Council for Exceptional Children, and came back buzzing with new ideas and exciting directions. I was still processing this the morning after my return as I pushed against the cold wind and headed to our mailbox. Inside I found an envelope from the Spearfish Arts Center. My breath caught, and I whispered to Ryan, "I got an envelope from Spearfish."
"Whatever it says," he began, "just be okay with it."
Spearfish is the sight of the annual Festival In the Park. It is one of the largest art festivals in the upper Midwest--yes, I'm quoting their website. Anywhoo, it is a juried show, meaning you have be selected by, you guessed it, a jury. I applied to it last month and have been working very hard ever since then to put it out of my mind--quite unsuccessfully.
With my heart hitching, I tore into the letter and...I got in! This will be my very first juried show, and I am over the moon. Way over! I am scared, and anxious, and trying to figure out how I can possibly make enough before then, but I will do it. My wonderful family has already to volunteered to help in various ways--they're the best--so I certainly don't think I'll be short handed. Hmm, I may have to teach Ryan to use jeweler's pliers...we'll see how that goes.
Now, I have to go breathe because I am at a constant risk of hyperventilating when I think about the show. The good hyperventilating, that is.
"Whatever it says," he began, "just be okay with it."
Spearfish is the sight of the annual Festival In the Park. It is one of the largest art festivals in the upper Midwest--yes, I'm quoting their website. Anywhoo, it is a juried show, meaning you have be selected by, you guessed it, a jury. I applied to it last month and have been working very hard ever since then to put it out of my mind--quite unsuccessfully.
With my heart hitching, I tore into the letter and...I got in! This will be my very first juried show, and I am over the moon. Way over! I am scared, and anxious, and trying to figure out how I can possibly make enough before then, but I will do it. My wonderful family has already to volunteered to help in various ways--they're the best--so I certainly don't think I'll be short handed. Hmm, I may have to teach Ryan to use jeweler's pliers...we'll see how that goes.
Now, I have to go breathe because I am at a constant risk of hyperventilating when I think about the show. The good hyperventilating, that is.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Hello, Stranger
Spring Break is over, *deep sigh*. We get so busy during the school year, that sometimes it feels like Ryan and I just kind of get used to not interacting a whole lot.
So much so that the first morning of break, when I glanced over the rim of my steaming coffee cup and saw my disheveled guy across from me, I gave a shocked little, "Oh, well hello! How are you?"
He looked at me with the same mild surprise, and answered, "Not bad. Your hair got long."
Okay, so it's not actually that bad, but it sure was nice to spend some quality time together doing things that are not at all exciting unless you are living inside our lives.
The first thing we did was shop for trees at the greenhouse--an interesting time, I'll tell more about that later. We also got new furniture because the furniture we've been using was purchased when I was 13 years old...by my parents. Oh yes, it was time.
We also did some hiking with the dogs, and on the way I had to take a few pictures.
I love it when I look out the car window and see something unexpected, like this old truck sitting in front of an equally old-looking store front.
The dogs, however, were not as amused, and really just wanted to get to the mountains already.
So much so that the first morning of break, when I glanced over the rim of my steaming coffee cup and saw my disheveled guy across from me, I gave a shocked little, "Oh, well hello! How are you?"
He looked at me with the same mild surprise, and answered, "Not bad. Your hair got long."
Okay, so it's not actually that bad, but it sure was nice to spend some quality time together doing things that are not at all exciting unless you are living inside our lives.
The first thing we did was shop for trees at the greenhouse--an interesting time, I'll tell more about that later. We also got new furniture because the furniture we've been using was purchased when I was 13 years old...by my parents. Oh yes, it was time.
We also did some hiking with the dogs, and on the way I had to take a few pictures.
And, of course, I got to make some jewelry.
These guys were so fun to make! I will be listing most of them on Etsy very shortly.
Now, back to work. *sigh*
Monday, April 2, 2012
Breathe In - Breathe Out
In the place where I grew up it always seemed that the storms came from the West. Two giant hills hulked on the horizon in front of our house, and this is where the storm clouds would boil up, all dark and bruised. I loved watching their gray forms bloom up and out, slowly covering the whole of the sky until we were completely beneath them, smelling their rain, our hair whipping in the wind. As the barometric pressure changed, the horses would come thundering up the pasture. Not because they were scared, I don't think, but because they were excited to welcome the rain. Something about the dark storm light made them seem to glow.
These earrings make me think of improbable sources of light.
Prehnite always glows, with or without light. I love the magic of it. I also love the soft shine of the silver discs--still having so much fun with the PMC! These guys will be on Etsy tonight.
These earrings make me think of improbable sources of light.
Prehnite always glows, with or without light. I love the magic of it. I also love the soft shine of the silver discs--still having so much fun with the PMC! These guys will be on Etsy tonight.
I hope you are having a happy Monday--one full of light!
Friday, March 30, 2012
Godzilla Scares Me
The colors make me think of Spring!
But first, I have to get through the week. Here are a few of the things that have happened so far.
On my morning drive, I have to ascend a gigantic hill that is about a half mile long. I love cruise control, but on those long hills, I feel like it expects a little too much from my little Rav4. I mean, really, there is no need to push the RPM needle so close to the red part of the half circle, no need at all. Me, I have a softer touch than Mr. Cruise, so I let my car go a little slower up the hill. 'It's all good!' I croon as I caress the dashboard, 'You just take your time, Rav, we are in no hurry.' But then, out of nowhere, a rusted out pickup pulls into the passing lane to go around me. I don't mind if you want to pass, honestly, but not before I've reached full speed, otherwise, once we crest the hill and the lanes merge together, I will only have to pass you because I am irrationally certain that you will drive slower than me once I reach cruising altitude, except by then I will not have the luxury of a passing lane like Impatience McSpeedy did. So I am faced with a choice, do I abuse my little Rav, i.e. mashing the pedal down and screaming "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!", or do I let him pass, most likely kicking up gravel and chipping my windshield in the process? My windshield has more pockmarks than...I don't know, the moon? Sorry, I'm a little tired. Ahh, the decisions we must make, and now I have a shiny new pock mark. But, that's okay because...
I have this at home.
Next, I am a therapist, and I am currently working in a school. Before this, I worked in a community mental health agency, and I did a lot of diagnosis--not something I really do anymore. At least, not on the record. Something I don't often tell people about me is that when others get on my nerves, I am most likely diagnosing them in my mind--usually with made up disorders. For example: "You want to know when I'm going to have a baby because, and I quote "You're not getting any younger?" Really? I don't even know your last name, and you want to talk to me about my plans for reproduction? Like we're close friends, or sisters? Hmm...sounds like Psychosis with a secondary condition of Jerk Face Not Otherwise Specified. You may want to consider medication, or at least work on replacing the filter between your brain and your mouth. Okay, I need to calm down. Deep breath, picture it...
So pretty (dreamy eyes).
Another thing, I ordered Girl Scout Cookies a while back, and they were delivered the other night. This is both good and bad. Good because, face it, Girl Scout Cookies are awesome. Bad because those little devils are terrible for you, and I have zero will power. I was born without it. Also, I was born with really thin finger nails, thanks Mom. With my lack of will power, I have devised some more creative ways of dealing with junk food, mostly through the use of verbal abuse. Donuts for instance:
I walk into the lounge at work. Donut sits on the counter, staring at me with his one eye. I stare right back, not blinking.
"You don't scare me, Donut. In fact, I pity you. Just look at you, all gooey and covered in sprinkles. What? You think your special because you're rainbow colored? Well, I haven't cared about rainbows since fourth grade. Good day, Sir." I toss my hair and stride right out of there, only to turn right around because I forgot to refill my coffee cup, which is why I went in there in the first place. (FYI, sometimes one or two teachers are sitting there silently while I do this, but it's okay, they're used to me).
This works quite well with donuts, because those guys are street smart. Girl Scout Cookies, however, are the innocents of the junk food world, and I just don't feel right about giving them the verbal business. So, here is how I chose to deal with those little beasts:
See, Godzilla is protecting them from me. Just look in his eyes:
Do you want a piece of that? I don't. Noooo thank you. So, I quietly back out of the room, easing the door shut as I go.
I think I will make it through the week. After all, what's a little irritation when there are so many good things to look forward to?
How do you get through life's little annoyances?
Monday, March 26, 2012
Perseus and IPods
I hate running. Hate it. But, oh, how I love it. Like everything else in my life, it affects my jewelry. Because, really, isn't everything we are and everything we do an amalgam of the choices we make and how we choose to live our lives? As I slump home at the end of the day, I'm not sure I could do it without running and the lovely endorphins that come from it. Sometimes, in my job, I feel like I see more darkness than I can handle. At these times, I fight extra hard to balance the dark with things like blueberry pancakes on Saturday morning, long hugs, longer runs, and of course, some awesome jewelry.
My runs usually start out with me salking (sobbing and talking at the same time) as I roll around the floor:
Me (full on salking): "I don't want to go, I don't! Don't make me!"
Ryan (looking up from his IPad): I'm not making you do anything.
Me: I'm not talking to you (a little snappish).
Ryan: Then who are you talking to?
Me: Never mind, (as I throw myself up off the floor and finish tying my shoes).
I push and click around on my IPod until it's ready to go, then I boop and beep on my watch until it is set. Finally, I have absolutely no more excuses to procrastinate and I push myself out the door.
The First Few Minutes:
Okay, this feels good. Not too windy, not to hot. The Killers are playing in my ears. Here we go.
The Middle Part:
Getting a little warmer now, push up my sleeves, use the sweat on my forehead to slick back my stupid, stupid bangs. WHY DID I CUT BANGS?! (irritation and irrational anger are starting to increase)
The Late Middle Part:
Okay, it's really hot. Long sleeve t-shirt was not the way to go. Just breathe, my side hurts, why is it hurting? I think there's a fold in my sock...stop looking for excuses to stop. Listen to your music. What is this song anyway? The Happy Elf? (The Happy Elf is a Christmas song by Harry Conick Jr...it's not even an old song, it's new, written some time in the 90's...so, just absorb that information for a bit...). Why did Ryan load my IPod with Christmas music? It's been three years, why is it so hard to delete tracks from this thing? Skip this song, and...oh good, Garth Brooks's The Dance. Nothing makes me want to run like slow, sad country music. I need a new IPod, maybe I should throw this one in the duck pond. (irritation and anger has reached its peak)
The Last Part:
Okay, another mile, and there's only one hill in the last mile. I can do this! (irrational happiness) Yesssss, Like A Prayer is playing now. This song makes my feet sprout wings, just like Perseus. Here comes the choir, just like a dream...la la la...
Okay, pushed it a little hard, now I feel like I'm dying. Madonna just gets me so excited! Whew, sweating, pounding heart, extreme irritation, lots of anxiety. If I were to talk to another mental health professional during the last mile of my run, I would totally meet the criteria for a panic disorder. Wait, I'm rounding the corner, there's my house! Lengthen my stride, I don't even notice that Celtic Christmas music is banging away, I don't even care! Past the mailboxes, neighbors dogs are barking annnnnd...I'm home. Beep, boop, beep, (fiddling with my watch), huh...45 seconds faster than yesterday.
Here, I finally notice the endorphins coursing through me, everything looks bright, my neighbor's barking dogs sound like angels, and my victory lap...I mean my cool down feels like floating. My muscles are warm and tired, and I decide that I like my bangs just fine. I love this feeling. I love knowing that with some well-timed self torture I can pretty much handle anything. Running makes me better. Lots of things make me better, and I am so happy that I have started to figure out what they are.
My runs usually start out with me salking (sobbing and talking at the same time) as I roll around the floor:
Me (full on salking): "I don't want to go, I don't! Don't make me!"
Ryan (looking up from his IPad): I'm not making you do anything.
Me: I'm not talking to you (a little snappish).
Ryan: Then who are you talking to?
Me: Never mind, (as I throw myself up off the floor and finish tying my shoes).
I push and click around on my IPod until it's ready to go, then I boop and beep on my watch until it is set. Finally, I have absolutely no more excuses to procrastinate and I push myself out the door.
The First Few Minutes:
Okay, this feels good. Not too windy, not to hot. The Killers are playing in my ears. Here we go.
The Middle Part:
Getting a little warmer now, push up my sleeves, use the sweat on my forehead to slick back my stupid, stupid bangs. WHY DID I CUT BANGS?! (irritation and irrational anger are starting to increase)
The Late Middle Part:
Okay, it's really hot. Long sleeve t-shirt was not the way to go. Just breathe, my side hurts, why is it hurting? I think there's a fold in my sock...stop looking for excuses to stop. Listen to your music. What is this song anyway? The Happy Elf? (The Happy Elf is a Christmas song by Harry Conick Jr...it's not even an old song, it's new, written some time in the 90's...so, just absorb that information for a bit...). Why did Ryan load my IPod with Christmas music? It's been three years, why is it so hard to delete tracks from this thing? Skip this song, and...oh good, Garth Brooks's The Dance. Nothing makes me want to run like slow, sad country music. I need a new IPod, maybe I should throw this one in the duck pond. (irritation and anger has reached its peak)
The Last Part:
Okay, another mile, and there's only one hill in the last mile. I can do this! (irrational happiness) Yesssss, Like A Prayer is playing now. This song makes my feet sprout wings, just like Perseus. Here comes the choir, just like a dream...la la la...
Okay, pushed it a little hard, now I feel like I'm dying. Madonna just gets me so excited! Whew, sweating, pounding heart, extreme irritation, lots of anxiety. If I were to talk to another mental health professional during the last mile of my run, I would totally meet the criteria for a panic disorder. Wait, I'm rounding the corner, there's my house! Lengthen my stride, I don't even notice that Celtic Christmas music is banging away, I don't even care! Past the mailboxes, neighbors dogs are barking annnnnd...I'm home. Beep, boop, beep, (fiddling with my watch), huh...45 seconds faster than yesterday.
Here, I finally notice the endorphins coursing through me, everything looks bright, my neighbor's barking dogs sound like angels, and my victory lap...I mean my cool down feels like floating. My muscles are warm and tired, and I decide that I like my bangs just fine. I love this feeling. I love knowing that with some well-timed self torture I can pretty much handle anything. Running makes me better. Lots of things make me better, and I am so happy that I have started to figure out what they are.
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