"...to be incorruptibly true to myself/and fair to others,/to find in this way/the right measure/of my own worth."



Cold, and ive started answering the phone, but im not jazzed about it. shut my mouth and call me pavlovs dog. bought chikn-n-fixins one town over and it seems like all the women i talk to are becoming massage therapists. this happened in the early nineties, too. those massage therapist women have all moved to the west coast to pursue more lucrative tomorrows without the carpal tunnel. i love my dogs. i love gary paulsen because he loves his dogs, and he understands that he doesnt understand but he wants to understand. gotta keep the channel open. burnt #2 another disc and he left with high-carbon-footprint fruit, somewhere theres a bowl to put it in. that awesome vintage wooden fruit bowl on the wooden bead feet and i gave it away because thats what you need to do. give it away. give away the fruit and books and all the light and energy i hold in my heart. give it away. but the channel needs to be open to receive. my eyes are tired and im flannel-brained from my nightly cabernet night-cap but i just started another load and need to empty the dish drain and prompt coffee for the morrow. were a funny couple. an old couple. and hell or high water well make the summer hootenanny well stocked, the color of the sun.

14 of 465:

1. Hot Water Bottles with Homemade Cozies.
2. Gary Paulsen Books.
3. The Second Son.
4. Striding Through the Cold, Noticing Things.
5. The Hearth.
6. My Atlantis Stone.
7. Tom Waits.
8. Dancing.
9. Fruit.



"Some painters transform the sun into a yellow spot, others transform a yellow spot into the sun."

1. i crave indian food always.
2. i am addicted to books, like a junkie to junk.
3. my favorite color is brown.
4. i prefer animals to humans, outside the realm of intercourse.
5. knitting is deeply therapeutic.
6. popcorn with butter and salt, popped in the stove-top popper.
7. i love to sleep.
8. after all this time i still feel deeply alone and have decided it must be
psychological.
9. i really want a little scooter to drive to work.
10. reindeer, black panther, rabbit, dog.
11. i am, i have come to accept, extremely sensitive.
12. i love everyone.
13. i am possessed by an extraordinarily naive heart.
14. i am a slacker with no self-esteem. it may be that i do not know, after all
this time, what it feels like to really be me, and one of my true wishes is to
make this untrue.
15. in college i wanted to study how geography affects religion.
16. there are things i am not willing to disclose here.
17. as a rule, i do not wear underwear.
18. i always wash the utensils in groups of four.
19. i would rather not talk on the phone.
20. the direction of the toilet paper has lost its significance.
21. there is a deep grief in me that has yet to be lifted.
22. i am an insufferable and relentless know-it-all.
23. i do the crossword compulsively, in pen.
24. i will not wear red.
25. psychedelics have been a huge influence on my world-view.
26. i love that skunky puppy smell.
27. i am extraordinarily superstitious about numbers: letting the microwave
run down to zero, the amount i pay for petrol, the bids i make on ebay.
see #18.
28. writing this list inspires paranoia in me.
29. i have always preferred movies about outsiders who find where they belong.
30. im bad at etiquette, deadlines, and state-sanctioned holidays.
31. i want to be your friend, but at a remove, and will gladly avail you of my
blood, bone marrow, and/or spare organs.
32. i am a loner.
33. i believe in non-violence.
34. i love the art of andrew wyeth and susan seddon-boulet.
35. i believe life on earth is miraculous and endlessly wonder-full.
36. my favorite month is october.

"There can be no doubt that a society rooted in the soil is more stable than one rooted in pavements."



13 of 365:

1. Mrs. Z.
2. My Bento Box
3. Slim Straights, and My Ability to Fit Into Them.
4. Being Useful.
5. Homemade Tortillas.
6. Extreme Knitters.
7. Choosing Non-Violence.
8. My Trailmix.
9. Walking at Night in the Snow.

She told me id need a hanky and i didnt believe her.

What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful?
It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges?
I am sure it is unique, I am sure it is what I want.
When I am quiet at my cooking I feel it looking, I feel it thinking
'Is this the one I am too appear for,
Is this the elect one, the one with black eye-pits and a scar?
Measuring the flour, cutting off the surplus,
Adhering to rules, to rules, to rules.
Is this the one for the annunciation?
My god, what a laugh!'
But it shimmers, it does not stop, and I think it wants me.
I would not mind if it were bones, or a pearl button.
I do not want much of a present, anyway, this year.
After all I am alive only by accident.
I would have killed myself gladly that time any possible way.
Now there are these veils, shimmering like curtains,
The diaphanous satins of a January window
White as babies' bedding and glittering with dead breath. O ivory!
It must be a tusk there, a ghost column.
Can you not see I do not mind what it is.
Can you not give it to me?
Do not be ashamed--I do not mind if it is small.
Do not be mean, I am ready for enormity.
Let us sit down to it, one on either side, admiring the gleam,
The glaze, the mirrory variety of it.
Let us eat our last supper at it, like a hospital plate.
I know why you will not give it to me,
You are terrified
The world will go up in a shriek, and your head with it,
Bossed, brazen, an antique shield,
A marvel to your great-grandchildren.
Do not be afraid, it is not so.
I will only take it and go aside quietly.
You will not even hear me opening it, no paper crackle,
No falling ribbons, no scream at the end.
I do not think you credit me with this discretion.
If you only knew how the veils were killing my days.
To you they are only transparencies, clear air.
But my god, the clouds are like cotton.
Armies of them. They are carbon monoxide.
Sweetly, sweetly I breathe in,
Filling my veins with invisibles, with the million
Probable motes that tick the years off my life.
You are silver-suited for the occasion. O adding machine-----
Is it impossible for you to let something go and have it go whole?
Must you stamp each piece purple,
Must you kill what you can?
There is one thing I want today, and only you can give it to me.
It stands at my window, big as the sky.
It breathes from my sheets, the cold dead center
Where split lives congeal and stiffen to history.
Let it not come by the mail, finger by finger.
Let it not come by word of mouth, I should be sixty
By the time the whole of it was delivered, and to numb to use it.
Only let down the veil, the veil, the veil.
If it were death
I would admire the deep gravity of it, its timeless eyes.
I would know you were serious.
There would be a nobility then, there would be a birthday.
And the knife not carve, but enter
Pure and clean as the cry of a baby,
And the universe slide from my side.

Sylvia Plath

12 of 365:

1. The Big Beautiful Full Moon.
2. The Rare Fish Dinner.
3. The Inevitable Reunion of Women who Love Them.
4. Lemonade to Splash in My Water.
5. The Buffalo Robe.
6. Memory Cards.
7. The Mittens i Knit for the Bootsies.
8. Fugazi.
9. NPR.
10. "Keep Calm and Carry On."
11. Coming Home.
12. All the Dreadful Songs i Like Anyway...Sundown, Cathedral, Everybodys Talkin...

"The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is comprehensible."

11 of 365:

1. Another Successful Day of Eating Really Good Food.
2. Whole Wheat Brownies Everyone Likes.
3. Reading with #4.
4. He Reminds me Nicely to Take My Meds.
5. Snow.
6. Getting More Organized Every Day.
7. The Days Get Longer.
8. Happy Pack with Peanut Butter Infused Chew Toys.
9. Knitting for the First Branch.
10. Mr. Ben MacAnTuile.

Id come back as her, anyday.

"The world is to us what the Garden of Eden was supposed to be to Adam and Eve. Adam and Eve were banished, but we are banishing ourselves from our Eden. The difference is that Adam and Eve had somewhere else to go. We have nowhere else to go. We hope that by the time you read this you will have at least partially curtailed our reckless greed and stupidity. If we have not, at least some of us have tried. … All we can say is learn from what we have achieved, but above all learn from our mistakes, do not go on endlessly like a squirrel in a wheel committing the same errors hour by hour day by day year after year century after century as we have done up to now. We hope that there will be fireflies and glow-worms at night to guide you and butterflies in hedges and forests to greet you. We hope that there will still be the extraordinary varieties of creatures sharing the land of the planet with you to enchant you."



"The way of love leads all ways to life beyond words, silent and secret. To serve that triumph I have done all the rest."



"Many of us are in it for the process rather than the product...keep this in mind: It’s called “knitting,” not “sweater-making.”


Snow day. slept way in. winnowed the piles and organized the yarn. little pockets of order every day, along with dishes and laundry. the horror of Gaza. toasting marshmallows for my boys. it snows some more. mythological creatures in the flames, waiting for the financial energy to flow in, making nice with creditors who want to chat about the dogs. im grateful for my abilities and the opportunities im given to utilize them.

10 of 365:

1. Hush-Puppies with Syrup.
2. Badger Balm.
3. #4's Appreciation of Gary Paulsen.
4. Michael Moore and all the Muck-Rakers.
5. Firewood.
6. Wild Dreams while Sleeping In.
7. Breathing Easy.
8. H.H. the Dalai Lama.
9. Aloe Plants.

Dig This. Or, why i decided to become a vegetarian after a long time away from compassionate consumption.

"The cosmic rhythms are nudging you to enjoy a time of profound slack."



The blue of my Heart. crepuscular blue. liminal blue. faerie blue. twilight blue.



the downward spiral runs through the valley. i can do so much with so little, but am embarassed at my self-esteem. theres black beans and a lucky acorn and today im supposed to trust myself. begin to trust myself. because i have all these things within me to bear and share. its still early january and im not quite awake. bitter liquid cold this morning and ice from the sky tonight, and maybe over dinner on friday she and i can waltz it out into the light, into the next season of our knowing what there is to know about us. i still secretly wrestle with why i didnt get the job but so it goes and there you are and whats to be done? i still chalk it up to my infinite shortcomings and dreadful luck. but then again im blessed, im fed an going to bed and waking up to coffee and cake with chocolate frosting i made from butter and chocolate, barley flour and eggs. itll be alright, whatever it turns out to be. trust me.

9 of 365:

1. Dusk Blue.
2. Not Worrying.
3. Being Able to Feed my Family.
4. Roasted Butternut Squash.
5. Literacy.
6. Thinking Maybe we could be Friends Again.
7. Cuddled in the Red Chair, Reading.
8. The Pack didnt Deconstruct my Enormous Ball of Yarn while i was Away.
9. Green Himalayan Tea.

"Spirituality, as it's been said, being the fine art of paying attention."



Louise wasnt having it so i caught the neighbor who forgot her fags and she dropped me off and i went to work and i was grateful. all returning, we wonder at how much is forgotten after two weeks, a building full of women growing older, our branches far extended over the river beside which we are rooted. theyre calling for cuts, theres a dysfunctional family elephant vibe everywhere. like the game where we hold our cards up to our foreheads for others to view.



I make pizza dough, mushrooms and onions, pepper jack and parmesean. i do what i can with what i have where i am. the sky was clear, day to night, the wide open night and bright fellow travellers on the oval course of eternity. blue dusk, firewood and compost, collecting #4 and making small bright connections, tentative looking forwards and the blue dog in my arms on the porch in the cold. my secret santa revealed, the woman with the beautiful hair, and she gave me the boy in the striped pajamas. walking home from the post office i could smell our woodsmoke and see the light on the creekwater and there was chocolate to taste and the trailermans cats spitting in the cold night across the bridge and the feel of the gentle dough under my fingers. the world is a marvelous place and im grateful for my health and the peace around me, all the while everywhere around the world there is suffering and injustice. violence of flesh and the souls tragedy. all the while im chittering away at a laptop listening to billy bragg drinking green tea, fed, literate, with the luxury of time to learn how to love my self at last.

8 of 365:

1. Mrs. H. and G.
2. Book Suggestions.
3. My Difficulties are So Minor.
4. A Short Walk after Work and before Supper.
5. The Woodstove.
6. iTunes.
7. Amy Goodman.
8. Homemade Pizza.
9. Clean Water.

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

7 of 365:

1. Peace in the Valley, for Me.
2. She's Okay.
3. Hope.
4. Clean, Healthy Food.
5. The Videos #4 Creates.
6. Sunlight.
7. Dog Love.
8. He Fixed the Chimney.
9. Safe, Clean Water.
10. Excellent Books in Small Format.



A day spent doing what i never let myself do. slept way late, pancakes and coffee, a book and a blanket, prairie home and knitting, letting it go. later on i may wash dishes and do laundry but the plants are watered and its the end of the holiday. monday its back on the bus and the year begins. many auspicious omens and signs of good regard. i suppose my head will be elsewhere until spring, but i keep my hands busy with the wonder of two sticks and string. blessed be.