The tunnel of Ogden Lane

Luci has a new preoccupation--building a Luci-sized tunnel under the fence between our back yard and the neighbors who live in the blue house on the corner.  For all these years of neighboring, she's been oblivious to their yard.

Apparently there's a new pet or a new threat over there.  While I can't determine what it is, I did see the tail end of it scooting under the house one day last week, something grey.

My girl, however, has taken it on as her job to attend to it from our side of the fence. To observe it for long stretches of time.  To begin the tedious and thrilling vocation of building a tunnel for herself. To occasionally express herself with threats-barks alternating with greeting-barks.

I have attempted to block the potential opening of the tunnel by throwing a rock or two into the hole she made progress on yesterday.  Then I found a board, stuck it in there, too.  But the passage to her worksite is hard to enter for a human, a narrow space behind the storage room full of pokey things. 

While she usually sleeps like the proverbial log all night, she's taken to meditating on her plan during the night.  If I so much as move, she nudges me, "Hey, Ma, I got an idea!  Let me outside!"

I'm onto her.  I know there are only so many times a day when an 11-pound mutt can pee.  Without a doubt, she has a new strategy tucked up her sleeve and the night vision to achieve it if only her human would let her get to it at 2 in the morning.

After the second trip out in the wee hours of this morning--and her reluctance to return, even for her favorite salmon jerky--I refuse.  I explain to her that her work privileges depend upon her obeying my call when it's time to come in--not to mention that the scent of skunk, cold weather notwithstanding, permeates the back yard. 

She may be a bit timid in the light of day, but in the dark, she's a hunter and a warrior, brave and strong!

 

Farewells to Jimmy Carter

The tributes to Jimmy Carter, the parade, the memorial at the Capitol, and today the funeral at the National Cathedral--all have fulfilled his stated wishes for his funeral decades ago. He chose every song, every speaker.  

Five former Presidents, Vice Presidents, spouses;  members of Congress and the Supreme Court, and his family--there were hours of unity in admiration of the 39th President, a peanut farmer from Plains, Georgia, a nuclear physicist, a writer, a builder of houses for poor people.  

My daddy knew Jimmy Carter personally, but we all felt like we knew him.  He seemed to be one of us, living in a modest Sears Roebuck house with his wife of 73 years. I remember casting my first vote for him, not because I was politically astute but because he was a good Georgia man like my daddy.  

I've mostly avoided television news since the election, but I tuned in this week to see the memorials.  On Monday, as his casket was lifted into a horse-drawn carriage for the parade, the band played "Just as I am"--a hymn every Baptist knows by heart. We joke that it has 17 verses, but that's only because its six actual verses were sung over and over in revival meetings. 

During the capitol memorial, the music included "Almighty Father, Strong to Save" (the hymn I recall from Kennedy's funeral), patriotic music, "Amazing Grace" and "Georgia on my Mind."  For Jimmy Carter, as one eulogist said today, "Georgia was not only on his mind, but in his heart."  

Today's service was fittingly religious, as Carter was a deeply religious man.  All the eulogies stressed his character and honesty.  "Character, character, character," President Biden said.  Even political opponents considered him a friend.  Andrew Young told a story of the "meanness sheriff" in Georgia.  He mentioned that man to Jimmy Carter once, and Jimmy said, "Yeah, he's a friend of mine."  The diversity of his friendships seems to be a big part of how he is remembered--quite a contrast to the divisiveness of the re-elected Trump. 

Running through it all was a sense of loss--not only for a man of peace and truth-telling in the nation's highest office--but loss of our former believing that our most basic beliefs were shared by all Americans.  

I expected Willie Nelson to sing, but instead it was Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood who sang John Lennon's "Imagine." 

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today... Aha-ah...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace... You...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world... You...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

I love the song, but was surprised that it was the one Carter chose for the last word.  No heaven, no hell?   No religion, no countries, no possessions?  

I've pondered that choice all day.  Carter was a Christian, but he was also tolerant of those who weren't.  Carter was an intellectual and a man of the earth,  He worked for peace in the Middle East and he started the Department of Education.  He was for civil rights and the rights of all people. 

He wasn't like the evangelicals of today who seek to control personal rights and who bow to Donald Trump. In choosing the Lennon anthem, Carter was also a man of his times, a man comfortable with seeming contradictions, and a man who shared the dream that one day the world might live as one. 

Artist Dates

Years ago, several of my friends and I read The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron in which she advocated feeding your creative muse by doing two things:

1. Morning Pages--3 pages handwritten to be read by no one, maybe not even re-read by you.  

2. The Artist Date: a block of time, perhaps two hours weekly, especially set aside and committed to nurturing your creative consciousness, your inner artist.

One of my friends asked me at the time, "Isn't that what you do all the time?"  

I took that as one of the best compliments ever--that she saw me as a playful person who loves poking around just for the fun of it.

We are living in precarious times, and artist dates may seem frivolous in light of what's going down in America.  I don't think it's ever frivolous to play and keep the lights on in the house that is you, or me, or us. 

If you'd like to give it a try, here are some ideas.  Go play!

Artist Date Ideas

Here are some more:

List #2

Making Books

Today I am making teeny tiny books--2 inches tall and 1 1/2 inches wide, about the size of matchboxes.  With all the mess in my living room, you'd think I'd been making masterpieces, but you'd be hard pressed to find them unless I pointed them out. 

A couple of years ago, I dropped out of the online Handmade Book Club because the coptic stitch stymied me, and still does. But then I discovered non-stitch or minimal-stitch books, and I returned. 

Someone asked me, "Are you going to give them for gifts, sell them, or what?"

While I have no intention of selling them, I'd be happy to share them once I get my techniques perfected.  Mostly it's "or what...." meaning I'm doing them for one reason only: pleasure. I find it intriguing to play with different types of paper, including gel printed pages I've made myself over the years without any idea what I'd do with them.

I've decoupaged one and half pieces of furniture with circles cut from gel prints.  And I made a scroll book early on, still one of my favorites.  Now I'm working on new structures including folded books with pockets, accordion (or concertina) books, teeny tiny books with 8 pages, etc. 

The lesson for December was making a garland of tiny books to hang on the mantel.  Some members made Christmas tree ornaments.  One, a librarian, gave tiny books to the entire staff at her school.  I'm just making them for the fun of working in miniature, often discovering that the tiny book is a prototype that can be used as a pattern for making larger ones. 

Truthfully, I have no practical need of another blank book.  I already have a couple of handmade books I've bought on trips, "too pretty to use." So while they are not utilitarian, at least not yet, they are little teachers of technique. 

Book makers in the group often make their own papers; I won't be doing that.  But the format of monthly projects (all saved in an archive to dip into at any time) focuses on technical skills.  It's fascinating to see what different people do with the basic structures. 

Kitty

Kitty is the owner, cook, and server of one of my favorite restaurants.  The only other worker there is a young man, perhaps her brother. 

She's the one who greets Luci with a big smile and follows up with a bowl of cooked chicken.  Luci loves Kitty and jumps on her legs and vocalizes her joy in seeing her.

Last night, Kitty showed me a large bump on her hand, and we talked about the possibility of carpel tunnel.  

No wonder.  She gets to the donut shop at 3 a.m to make donuts, cuts and fries and frosts them.  Then she lifts and moves heavy trays and delivers batches to a downtown location.

At 8. she goes home for an hour's nap, then to the restaurant to cook and serve until 3 in the afternoon.  Between 3 and 5. she gets another short nap before re-opening for dinner.

Probably in her forties, Kitty is young enough to have big dreams.  Somehow between all the hours of work, she manages to take an ESL class at SAC, hoping to perfect her English.  Her goal--to have her bakery someday--requires English proficiency to pass the tests necessary to start a business. 

The president-elect's words about immigrants are arrogant and cruel.  Far from being a "drain" on "our country," Kitty represents millions of people behind the scenes who contribute so much to the U.S. Many are struggling with the language and silent on the world stage. Most of them are working more hours than those born here can even imagine. 

When they are our age, without medical help, how will Kitty deal with carpel tunnel syndrome?  How will Sergio deal with his constantly aching back?  

"Do you have to work two jobs?" my dinner companion asked her.

She's helping her family in Thailand, she's paying rent, she's keeping a business afloat.  She wants to make beautiful wedding cakes and birthday cakes for those who can afford them--a worthy dream.  Yes, she has to work two jobs.  All those coming here for safety and success have to work two jobs, often more, just to survive.  

Working Around Obstacles

My days are shorter than they used to be  Instead of long productive and leisurely hours, I now work within chunks of time between foot flares.  After the first chunk, I take meds for pain, then rest til they take effect.  Then there's another chunk and on and on like that.

Most of us have something to work around--pain, illness, care taking, a job, a marriage.  Obstacles are obstacles.  It's the stuff of literature.  It's whatever the answer is to the question, "What's stopping you?"

What I'm learning in my oldish age is to ask different questions.  Like : How can I get the most out of my short days?  

One answer is to reserve the first chunk of the day for what lights up the creative part of me, the same thing that has animated my whole life--making something, being creative and curious. It's an extended version of what Julia Cameron advocated: "the artist date." A day set aside to poke around in thrift shops or art venues or whatever you do best solo. 

Sometimes the question itself is what drives me.  I'm determined not to stop.

It seems to be a matter of appropriating time differently.  Decide what can best be accomplished in the easy hours, throw myself into whatever requires sustained attention and hold off answering the phone or shopping for groceries.  Say "no" to anything I don't really want or need to do, at least until the time is right to say "yes." 

2024, while filled with lots of good things, was also the year of discovering expensive and extensive dental needs, brought on by taking Gabapentin for pain.  2024 was the year of a terrible election result and all that could entail for the next four years.  

Some things we can do nothing about, period.

In the meanwhile, in my staccato time, I'm delving deep into book making, finding pleasure in cutting and assembling papers to create fun structures.  

Yesterday I made a tiny book (out of a soap box) about Luci.  Earlier I made several books of poems on paper folded into origami shapes.  I'm working today on an accordion book, collaging every page.

Whatever we have to step over or around, I believe that having a personal passion, creative or otherwise, is what keeps us as fully alive as we can be, for as long as we can. 

The Dining Table

Since getting my David Marsh dining table this summer, it is now my favorite spot in the house.  I have now enjoyed exactly two dinner parties--one to celebrate Kate's birthday with my three drop-out friends, Charlotte and Janet and Kate; one with my Pritchett family, Bonnie, Will, Nathan, and Elena. 

Two successes in cookery for people I love has inspired me to cook more. For a long time I have considered cooking (beyond the basics for one person)  NLA.  Now I have flatware for 8, new serving dishes, and a stack of recipes for the next time--none as complicated as beef bourguignon, but all new to me.  I've cooked with wine for the first time and I've learned to wrap herbs in twine.  

So sometimes what was No Longer Applicable becomes a strong interest again.  

I used to be quite the cook when I was cooking every day for four.  Will asked me one day, "Can we ever have something just regular like we have at my friends' houses?"  I asked him what he had at friends' houses and he said, "You know, pizza and hot dogs and chicken nuggets."

In the two years of my foot odyssey, standing in the kitchen for more than an hour never happens.  So I'm choosing dishes I can cook ahead and divide the process into two or three days.  I'm learning to love making new dishes again!

Another reason my dining table is the best place in the house is that it's positioned under two windows with window sills!  For 25 years, I had non-openable windows, but this year I got new windows where the old ones were and two windows where a solid wall used to be.  My favorite thing is making books at the table and being able to enjoy the light from outside. 

Six feet of work space--I've never before had that much space to spread out my supplies.  The table is now back to its primary work space, covered with cutting mats, craft knives, stacks of paper, five different kinds of glue, brushes and pens and different colors of ink.

I've almost completed three accordion books in the middle of the night, each with a hard cover, just waiting now for button closures. 

I can't begin to tell you how much fun I'm having!  There's nothing like exploring something new that challenges my mind and math abilities.  The combination of beautiful papers is to a book maker what fabrics are to a seamstress and ingredients to a cook.  

Another accordion structure I love making is the one I made for Nathan.  I wanted to give him money for Christmas, but I wanted to present it in a unique form, so I made a red and white book with pockets to hold the cash--red and white being the colors of Texas Tech where he'll be next year.  Here it is wrapped with two red pens and a red balloon. 

Opened out, you'll see pockets on both sides,

enough to hold cash, poems, photos, quotations, etc. 

Christmas at 609

 

I made Julia Childs' and Janet Oglethorpe's recipe for beef bourguinon (which took a bit of three days), Carlene's recipe for poppy seed chicken (in case the kids preferred it), corn, mashed potatoes, cornbread, and apple crisp. 

Then we played a game called Ouisi that brought out the different ways we all think--some abstract, some more concrete, some philosophical....

It's a good game I found online and our game master, Elena, made it really fun.

Through it all, we played Janet's music playlist on Spotify--unconventional Christmas music that made me want to dance. 

Ouisi 

NA

NA: Not Applicable 

Say, you have to fill out a form for a job.  Or one of those 5-page medical questionnaires.  Or, I'm guessing, a profile on a dating site? 

I like circling NA on pages of ailments and former surgeries.  Applying for a job or describing myself on a dating app: NA. Planning a wedding, NA, world travel, NA/

By the way:

If Robert Kennedy were still alive, I wonder what he'd  think of his son's bizarre questions for anyone who wants to work in the Department of Health and Human Services--if he convinces anyone besides Donald that he's remotely qualified to lead it?  Here are a few of his terribly worded and intrusive questions: 

"I don't have much interest in having sex with another person."

"I believe many things others don't--like having a 'sixth sense' clairvoyance, and telepathy--and as an adolescent, I had bizarre fantasies and preoccupations." (Here we have five questions in one, easiest answer NA.)

"I consistently use my physical appearance to draw attention to myself." 

The relevance of these questions is laughable, but then RFK Jr. is regarded by most people as pretty nuts.  

Lately, I've been paying attention to what's NLA: no longer applicable.

Sports, for example, has never held a shred of interest for me.   I tune out when the subject comes up on NPR.  It's straight up NA.  Same with financial planning, starting a business, building a deck in my beautifully self-landscaped yard, or hosting a party of twenty. 

Flipping through a magazine while waiting in lines, I often notice how many ads and articles are NLA.   Some of them never were.

Fashion, make-up, weight loss secrets, cocktail recipes, great places to hike or bike, and cruises to Europe--these are among the very long list (getting longer every year) of things that no longer apply. 

I'd love to know what things are your lists!

Day 3: circles everywhere

Today I finished wrapping and shipping presents to Georgia and Virginia.  It's been so much fun!

Since I've been reflecting on circles, it occurred to me that several of my gifts include circular things:

A round birthstone charm

Candles

Ginger cookies in a tin from World Market

A tin of homemade "icebox cookies" for the nurses 

Round bags and pocket books

A round desk clock

A vintage compass

Red and white balloons, the colors of Texas Tech where Nathan will be going next year.

A scarf that encircles someone's  neck on cold winter mornings.

Some are wrapped in a nice thick paper I found at the thrift shop, a sturdier paper than the rolls for sale at Hallmark.  Gold circles and stars.

The ball in the point of a pen and cursive letters for making words on paper. 

Universally, all over the world, from time immemorial, the circle is the friendliest of shapes.  Children throw and catch balls everywhere.  Hoola Hoops and jump ropes in motion are circles to get inside. Birthday cakes and candle flames, Christmas lights and ornaments, Pumpkins and paper chains and helium balloons; without circles, how square celebrations would be! 

I read somewhere that babies know instinctively that circles are safe, no rough edges or sharp corners.  

Luci curls herself into a tiny circle in her backseat bed, all her parts tucked in--while I keep my hands on the steering wheel and assume the air will keep the tires fully round.  When we come home, we walk around the block, even though our blocks are shaped like a slices of  pie and shoe boxes.