Rattle rattle, rrrrrrrrrr: that's the sound of my 2001 Volkswagen Golf accelerating these days. It's quite embarrassing. Apparently my catalytic converter needs replacing. I got a recall notice in the mail and am waiting for the dealership's service dept. to give me an appointment; they are notoriously busy, but after being on hold forever today, I found out that I can request a service appt. online! So I did. Smart.

Meanwhile, whenever I accelerate (up to about 40 mph), it sounds horrid. I'm embarrassed. It's not so bad if my windows are up and the music on, but in other conditions, I can really hear it. Don't hear it at all when my foot's not on the pedal or if I'm going fast.

My friendly full-service gas station guy, Dave, told me a couple of weeks ago it was just old-car noise. That was when the rattle was quieter. But I don't believe him. I'm quite sure it's a faulty catalytic converter. I listen to "CarTalk" on public radio; I'm a car expert (ha!). Anyway, the VW dealership has to diagnose and replace it for me for free, according to this recall letter.

I'm really not a car geek. I know very little about cars. I am getting myself organized to get a different vehicle this winter. Got the go-ahead from my financial advisor, who even recommended a place for me to start. There's an auto place that sells used but almost new vehicles for a really good price, and she trusts this place. The salespeople are not on commission.

Anyway, we do need a bigger vehicle than this puny Golf. As it stands now, Polly has the backseat of the VW to herself, and I use the trunk for storage. Anytime I have more than two teenagers to drive around, I'm in trouble. And we want a vehicle where Polly can have the far-back to herself and we won't always have white dog hair all over us. Even with various dog-hair barriers in place, it gets everywhere. Also I need something that handles better on snow and ice than the Golf. Even with four new tires last year, I didn't do so well on hills in a couple of the snowstorms.

A.J. is about to start driving (he turns 16 next month), so it has to be something he can handle too.

Believe it or not, this will be my first car purchase. My ex-husband always made the car decisions for us. Boy, that makes me sound like a 1950s wife, I know. Well, I'm learning.

I drove a Jeep while in Vermont this summer and really liked it. What do you think? We're in Minnesota, so we need a good winter vehicle, and we need plenty of space, incl. a dog area, as well as front and side airbags, and good safety ratings. A lot of dog-owners in Vermont drive Suzuki Outbacks. The dogs ride in the far back/hatchback part. Any car geeks care to weigh in here?

I love my wigs. Here are two!
I have worn each of them out in public this week, for fun and in the spirit of Halloween. What a gas!

"In My Recurring Dream" by Kenny White

(he's a great songwriter, singer, pianist, you should hear him if you don't already know him: www.kennywhite.net is the place to learn more and to get his CDs.)

in my recurring dream we have a daughter with a boyfriend
with a moustache with a taste for younger women, like our daughter
and he has this little habit when he tries to make a point, points his finger
which if it had not been eaten by a table saw when he was 23
would really help to emphasize his point,
instead we are distracted by the sight of the missing joint and no one hears a word he says... in my recurring dream

in my recurring dream i give a man a 20 dollar bill
'cause he likes smokey robinson and lives on the street, but still
will never confuse the temptations with the miracles
when he walks into the grocery and hears them on the radio
and i'm sad he's on the street, but glad he can feel the thrill
when "tracks of my tears" comes on and then "blueberry hill"so here's my 20 dollar bill...in my recurring dream

in my recurring dream, and this one comes too often
there's a plane filled with people with carry-on coffins
and i don't know all the rules regarding karma, but i suspect that
when the good outweighs the bad, some automatic self-protect should kick in
but here y'got this plane and as it starts to rise
i can see the panic in every pair of eyes and the silent voices calling in slow motion, trapped and falling, falling...
wake up, you sleepy head - get up, get out of bed
cheer up, the sun is overhead

in my recurring dream, i was eleven when it started
i am standing in my backyard, shooting arrows at a target
while inside the house, my mother, now remarried since
last night's untimely death of my dad
she leans over the couch where he's still lying - to kiss him
it's not that we are ghoulish, it's just that we would miss him
so we leave him there a little while longer
and a good thing too, i guess, cause dying's made him stronger
and three days later he gets up to watch the news
and the news is often bad, and the news is often sad and i know a lot of us are happier when we're sad
wake up, you sleepy head - get up, get out of bedcheer up, the sun is straight overhead

in my recurring dream, i am working with my brother
we are drawbridge operators and cannot see each other
when we pull the ropes that raise the road
this cloud above me suddenly explodes
into a million little lullabies that fall into my ears
and steal my attention, but they take away my fear
so when i slip off the rope and fall through the icy waves
i realize it's not jesus, it's music that saves
and the fish swim by me with faces like goats
i sink into the darkness - but still hear all the notes

in my recurring dream, i am saying what i feel like
to anyone i feel like and i don't care what they think of me
to any girl i feel like and i don't care if she'll sleep with me
i like what i feel like and i like who i've come to be
i'm locked into the moment, and i love with all my might
i am giving all i have, and i'm fearless of the night
i am hopeful - yeah, not holdin' on so tight
i am giving up the fight - i am giving up the fight
in my recurring dream

What's in your recurring dream?

I had a recurring dream for a long time, for years, and haven't had it in the last two years at all. In my recurring dream, I am in Vermont, in the country, going to the deep woods. I have to find my way to my grandfather's deer camp (cabin), which is in the deepest of deep woods. Always in real life, Grampa would take us there; I never got there on my own and never even tried to find my way there after he died. But in my dream, I'm trying. I walk a long time, and it's not right. I come to a house, or a barn, and I talk to someone there (this is true every time I have this dream).

The man at the house tells me I can't possibly find Grampa's cabin, and it's going to be dark soon. I should stop trying, he advises. Stay here, sleep in the loft of the barn here, try again tomorrow...

Sometimes in the dream, I stop, sleep, and that's all. Other times, I thank him but insist that I can do it, and I head back into the woods, even though it's almost sunset. It's scary to be alone and not sure of myself, but I keep going.

I don't get there before waking up.

I have had dreams which take place at Grampa's deer camp, but I'm never alone there. Something about making this journey alone, that's the main element I feel about the recurring dream.

Interesting that now, when I've made so many decisions in my life and have made huge changes in the past two years, I'm not having this dream.

Do you have a recurring dream?

The Bob Dylan lyrics for today...sorry, they came with no punctuation (or do some people prefer them like that? I like commas!)

I would love to hear your Bobby D. stories, if you have 'em. What he means to you, when you've seen him live, you know...I had a wild Bob Dylan dream once, perhaps I'll get out my dream journal and share it with you.


If You See Her, Say Hello
by Bob Dylan

If you see her say hello she might be in Tangier
She left here last early spring is living there I hear
Say for me that I'm all right though things get kind of slow
She might think that I've forgotten her don't tell her it isn't so.

We had a falling-out like lovers often will
And to think of how she left that night it still brings me a chill
And though our separation it pierced me to the heart
She still lives inside of me we've never been apart.

If you get close to her kiss her once for me
I always have respected her for doing what she did and getting free
Oh whatever makes her happy I won't stay in the way
Though the bitter taste still lingers on from the night I tried to make her stay

I see a lot of people as I make the rounds
And I hear her name here and there as I go from town to town
And I've never gotten used to it I've just learned to turn it off
Either I'm too sensitive or else I'm getting soft.

Sundown yellow moon I replay the past
I know every scene by heart they all went by so fast
If she's passing back this way I'm not that hard to find
Tell her she can look me up if she's got the time.

What are you going to "be" for Halloween?

I'm going as myself, the long straight black-haired version of myself. Black leather, tall black boots, and a certain attitude. See a little glimpse in this photo. It should be fun.


I dressed in the style of Janis Joplin a couple of years in a row, when A.J. was little. Had so much fun layering on the hippie clothes (and there are plenty in my closet) and beads and letting my wavy hair go wild. A.J. didn't seem to mind. It was in the days when I would accompany him on his door-to-door trick-or-treating adventures. Parents in our neighborhood generally would walk their kids on the sidewalks and then stand there while the kids went up to the individual houses for treats. I remember standing on the sidewalk with some dad I didn't know; he sized me up and said "Are you Janis Joplin?"

Loved it.

That was also the year my friend Kevin suggested I carry a bottle of Jack Daniels with me, to be truly Janis'y. But of course I'm WAY too conscientious a parent for that part of the ensemble. And Janis deserves to be remembered as way more than that. I actually think of her as some kind of a princess. In her own way. I really love Janis. I hope it's not irreverent to talk about dressing up as the Pearl. Her voice is so imprinted in my mind's ear, I can hear her as I type this. Isn't that amazing? One woman, one voice, she's been gone for decades, and I can immediately conjure up the sound of her singing?! Powerful!

Listening to Pete T. talking about Mama Cass last night, I was thinking about her beautiful voice and Janis's, as well. They both had such soul and both wildness and tenderness in their singing. It really touched me the other night when a girl A.J.'s age told me she loves Janis Joplin. The kids are growing up listening to a lot of the same music we loved at their age, except that in our cases it was happening right then.


A.J. and I bought a doggie Elvis jumpsuit costume for Polly last night, but it doesn't fit her! Drats. I'm rather hopeless at sewing, so there's no hope of altering it. She's just bigger than I thought.

What are you blogging dog-owners doing for your dog's Halloween? I can see some of those cute pups dressed up...Storm, your little cutie Stormy comes to mind!

The Dylan song for tonight (I heard him sing this one a few years ago in concert):

IF YOU GOTTA GO, GO NOW(Or Else You Gotta Stay All Night)
Words and Music by Bob Dylan
1965 Warner Bros. Inc
Renewed 1993 Special Rider Music

Listen to me, baby,
There's something you must see.
I want to be with you, gal,
If you want to be with me.

But if you got to go,
It's all right.
But if you got to go, go now,
Or else you gotta stay all night.

It ain't that I'm questionin' you.
To take part in any quiz.
It's just that I ain't got no watch
An' you keep askin' me what time it is.

But if you got to go,
It's all right.
But if you got to go, go now,
Or else you gotta stay all night.

I am just a poor boy, baby,
Lookin' to connect.
But I certainly don't want you thinkin'
That I ain't got any respect.

But if you got to go,
It's all right.
But if you got to go, go now,
Or else you gotta stay all night.

You know I'd have nightmares
And a guilty conscience, too,
If I kept you from anything
That you really wanted to do.

But if you got to go,
It's all right.
But if you got to go, go now,
Or else you gotta stay all night.

It ain't that I'm wantin'
Anything you never gave before.
It's just that I'll be sleepin' soon,
It'll be too dark for you to find the door.

But if you got to go,
It's all right.
But if you got to go, go now,
Or else you gotta stay all night.

Really happier today.

Great news from one of my best friends in the world: she got the job! She wanted this promotion very much, and almost didn't dare to believe she'd get it, but I knew she would...and she did...found out this week. Really terrific news.

It's been a beautiful day, very Halloween-like weather here in Minneapolis today, and I enjoyed my outdoors time so much. There was one bit when Polly and I were walking in a neighborhood near ours but more woodsy. We stopped and stood very, very still and just listened. In the patch of woods, there were many different birdsongs, maybe an owl, definitely some squirrels and chipmunks, and we know that there are deer who live in there and sleep during the day. I was hoping we would see a deer, but we didn't. Still, it was a lovely couple of minutes, just soaking up every sound. When you are in a quiet place, the nature sounds are so very distinct.

Growing up, our grandfather taught my sister and me all about the woods. He taught us how to walk very, very quietly "like Indians," and we loved to look for moss, berries, ferns, and salamanders in the cool dark green woods in Vermont.

I can be very quiet.

Ready for bed. If you look carefully, you can see both of my animal friends: Snow Leopard on the bed, and Polly the best dog in the world on her bed in the far corner of my room. I took this photo of myself in preparation for tomorrow's "In the Attic in Pajamas" webcast from the U.K. I hope my Attic friends appreciate that I really did take this photo in my pajamas and robe, makeup off, jewelry off, and rumply hair, ready for bed. It was a hell of a day, and I'm happy tomorrow will be a better one. Good night!

Not doing so great this afternoon.

I'm under the gun to finish my written homework for today's class, which begins in three hours. I am almost done but have writer's block when it comes to research design and stats. I could write a blog all day. giggle. I'll be done with this assignment in, what, 20 more minutes of writing? It's just hard.

The dog, sweet as she is, has chosen today to growl at every neighbor noise that occurs. We live in an apartment building. There are noises. Polly is growling. I keep telling her to stop. She has to go lie down in her corner and be quiet. She does, and then she hears something, and growls. It gets on my nerves and distracts me. I love her, I can't yell at her, so I go through the whole routine again. It works, for about five minutes.

I've taken three walk-the-dog breaks in three hours. I can't afford to do more right now. She will have to just deal with it. I did get frustrated to the point that I raised my voice at her, and then I felt guilty so I started to cry. (She was in a neglected, abusive home in her early years and I never let myself get mad at her. She's the world's sweetest dog and she deserves to be the princess, or the assistant princess, of this home.) I can't just "put her outside' because we don't have a yard here. I have to physically walk her in order for her to get fresh air. We do a lot of walking. Right now, I should be sitting still working.

The men who are central in my life are not here. I am lonely for them. Two are halfway across the country and one is in the hospital.

I hate that when I had PMS last weekend, my friend J. could tell, long-distance, and he told me so. And I hate how exhausting it is being a woman of a certain age.

I have to spend tomorrow, or much of it, at my ex-husband's house boxing up things and throwing out other things, and I dread it. Like big awful dread. I hate being there. I can't get emotional about it because if I do, I'll cry, and I'll lose my effectiveness. I just have to go in and do it, and leave.

I'm tired of the dental implant healing process and just want to bite down on something...it's been over a year now. I also want to be able to smile or be in a photo without worrying about how it looks, and I want to laugh uproariously hard without worrying that my retainer will come out. And sing with abandon, and articulate words with the letter "s" in them without being self-conscious that people won't understand me with this stupid retainer in my mouth.

I'm not getting enough sleep because I'm in grad. school and working and taking care of a home and a teenager and a dog and myself. There are not enough hours in the day and night together.

Ok Ok Ok

Man, I hate to complain. I'm a Pollyanna through and through. Unlike my new friend Jessica, I can't swear comfortably (except in intimate situations when the words st0p being "swear words" and become something erotic). I can't just bang around the house saying the F word. It doesn't help.

Thanks for listening, invisible blog friends!

I'll be better soon.

Another Dylan for you! I love the verse that starts "Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night..." sigh...



Boots of Spanish Leather by Bob Dylan

Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love,
I'm sailin' away in the morning.
Is there something I can send you from across the sea,
From the place that I'll be landing?

No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love,
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'.
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled,
From across that lonesome ocean.

Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden,
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona.

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean,
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss,
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'.

That I might be gone a long time
And it's only that I'm askin',
Is there something I can send you to remember me by,
To make your time more easy passin'.

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again,
It only brings me sorrow.
The same thing I want from you today,
I would want again tomorrow.

I got a letter on a lonesome day,
It was from her ship a-sailin',
Saying I don't know when I'll be comin' back again,
It depends on how I'm a-feelin'.

Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way,
I'm sure your mind is roamin'.
I'm sure your heart is not with me,
But with the country to where you're goin'.

So take heed, take heed of the western wind,
Take heed of the stormy weather.
And yes, there's something you can send back to me,
Spanish boots of Spanish leather.

The last verse and chorus of "Mr. Tambourine Man" by Bob Dylan, listen to this:

Take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time,
Far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees.
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand wavin' free,
Silhouetted by the sea,
Circled by the circus sands,
With memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey, Mister Tambourine Man,
play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mister Tambourine Man,
play a song for me,
In the jingle, jangle morning I'll come followin' you.


I'm not sure I've ever really heard that verse before. Just found it in Judy Collins' songbook. Isn't it amazing?

Thinking about that magic which flows between two people, sometimes from the very first meeting...the magic which draws us together, which makes us hold each other's gaze and find it impossible to look away. The wonder we feel when suddenly it becomes clear: this person was meant to be in our life.

Do you remember falling in love?

Someone very dear to me was hurt today and is in the hospital. I can't be with him. So instead I am going to flood the universe with loving, healing thoughts and prayers for him, and I'm going to thank God for the gift that is love.

Here's the beautiful Grieg Nocturne, again. Seems like the yousendit.com site only allows 25 downloads and stays up for only 7 days at a time. If you didn't hear it below, you can hear it now. I do love playing this piece. This is from our August performance in Vermont, and it's me playing.

Link:

http://s48.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=0NIWLRSUCJSK10P1O5JVCM8OWJ


Please let me know if it works for you, and how the piece strikes you.

The sweetest thing in the world, a moment captured forever.


This is my favorite photo of baby Ethan. The way he's looking at me, the incredible love that flows between a mother and child: it's all there. And I feel really thankful that little E was with us.

He's my angel.

Seeing the photo of Mikey's new nephew today made me miss Ethan. I thought it might help me to put his photo up tonight. It did. Hope the photo comes across clean and beautiful.

Love those chubby cheeks. Somehow when I look at this photo I don't really see the wires or think of the NICU noises and how he was in critical condition every day of his life. I see a sweet, chubby-cheeked baby who still to this day makes me proud. He was the strongest little guy and certainly the most stubborn member of our family, and that's saying a lot, as we are a very stubborn bunch!

Thanks for letting me share him with my blog friends tonight.

Testing 1-2-3. I'm trying to get my photo up onto my profile, starting by posting it here:
I think I've exported it to my profile now. We shall see!
This is my attempt to turn a photo of me into a Warhol painting. It's me at the pool at my favorite hotel in Pacifica (CA) a year or two ago. Do you like it?

Memory, circa 1970:

My sister and I were young teenagers, and our mom was dating. We were quite opposed to this phenomenon, even though she was a very fashionable, hip divorcee (that's what they called divorced women back in the '60s/'70s!, with an accent egu on the first e!) and she deserved to have some fun outside of being the mom of two girls.

We giggled at the way she primped and fussed before her dates. We'd watch her, and then make endless fun of the way she fluffed up her hair when her date, Karl, arrived at the front door. "Oh, Karl, my hair is a MESS!" she would say coyly. We girls would guffaw from the stairway.

Later, when the dating couple would return, sis and I would sit up in our bedroom watching them as they stood outside. We would open the screen window on my side of the room and we'd hang out the window making kissy noises at them. Sometimes I remember we'd even try to be very quiet and just drop food on their heads, aiming for his head, of course.

We were insufferable.

And now I am a divorcee, dating, and I have a teenage son. How strange. I had that memory today and suddenly realized how the circle turns....

As long as I'm putting up hair photos, I can't resist this one. Here I am earlier this week in one of my new wigs! I think it's so much fun to change your look. I sure look different than normal in this one! What fun!

As my hairdresser said to me today, "You love being a girl, don't you?"

It's always a happy day when I get my hair cut and colored. I know, I don't seem to be smiling in these self-portraits, though I'm not sure why: perhaps I was trying to look mature. Ha!!!

It's a very girly-girl thing to admit, but I love being pampered and coming out all fresh, vibrant, and pretty. Here are two photos of me when I got home from seeing my hairdresser David today. He's a great guy. He has been cutting my hair since 1980 and is exactly my age. That means we've known each other since we were 23 and now we're 48! Wow. Love ya, David.

(And if any bloggers are ever looking for a good hairstylist and colorist in Minneapolis, he's your guy: David Johnson, Portfolio Salon, Uptown. And he has the best jazz collection so you can get your hair done while listening to Miles Davis, Bill Evans, today we listened to Charles Mingus.)

Here's another mp3 from our August concert. This is the "Graceful Ghost Rag" composed by William Bolcom. I love this piece and it was great to have a chance to introduce it to people. Kinda like a friend, you know and love, whom you wish all of your friends could get to know...

In case I didn't make it clear, this is me playing. I hope you can hear it.

http://s62.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=0432S7JUW7ORX1HHJREAB2F3SN

Can you hear me?

My first attempt at attaching an mp3 here...I do hope you can open and hear it. This is a recording of me playing the "Nocturne" by Edvard Grieg, in our Sarabande concert in Vermont this August. Please, if you are able to open and listen, post to let me know. I'm learning...


http://s58.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=3HV89KNMJUPEQ19V35SK8XNRMUTrack 15.mp3

Were you wondering why I didn't write about the Springsteen concert? It was Wednesday night of this week. His acoustic tour came to Northrop Auditorium on the U of M campus, and it was sold out. I had two tickets and a friend to go with. And I had a very long day which included three hours in rush hour traffic that afternoon. My workload is huge right now and I'm barely keeping my head up above water, and I'm under serious pressure to get the rest of my "stuff" out of my ex-husband's house by Oct. 31. Lots of stress and not enough hours in the day.

When I got to the restaurant for our pre-concert dinner, I practically broke down in tears. I told my friend Lynn how exhausted I felt and how much work I had to do that night (proofreading work, on a deadline). She looked me right in the eyes and told me that she'd had a crappy day too and was half wondering if we should go to the show or not!

There was a woman eating at the next table who knew Lynn and who was just gushing all over me, when I walked in, about how lucky we were to go to Bruce. I got this brainstorm (checked with Lynn first): I stood up and went over to this woman's table and asked her if she and her friend would like our Springsteen tickets. She was really surprised! I wasn't even trying to sell them. I take concerts as a deduction on my taxes, and I'd already paid for and budgeted these tickets. I didn't feel I needed to sell them (as Lynn said later, "You're not the scalping type!"), so it felt right to just pass them on.

Well, the woman and her friend were really shocked, and almost speechlessly accepted them from us.

I don't know her last name, so I have no way of following up to find out what she thought of the show. But it felt great to have passed on the tickets, and I got home by 7 p.m., got right into my pajamas, lit some candles, dug in with my proofreading work and cuddled the dog and got a very good night's sleep.

And that's why I didn't write a review of the show!

Do you think I'm daft to have given up my Bruce tickets? or do you like it?

What did you discover this week?

* If I slack off on my Pilates workouts, I can see it and feel it in my body. (well, duh...)

* My dog really enjoys hearing the sound of her own bark. It makes her happy to bark. She is learning when it is appropriate to bark and when it is not...I have to keep teaching her this because we live in an apartment building, admittedly it's a "pet building" but still, it's not cool to bark in the hallways just to hear your own mellifluous voice, is it?!

* It is better to have no iced mocha at all than to have an inferior iced mocha. (I ordered one while on the road up in Two Harbors on Monday, and it was just...blek...I should only ever drink iced mochas from my favorite coffeehouse, the Bru; all other iced mochas are just a waste.)

* This week, I discovered: Simon Townshend! (Hello, Simon, if you are reading this!)

* On Tuesday, I discovered that I really am able to do this graduate school thing without worrying that I am somehow not up to it. I am. And I'm doing just great. Enough with the occasional self-doubt crap. I'm doing it!

* It feels really good to pray in class. We do, at Bethel: each Tuesday night before my second class we pray as a group, with the professor praying aloud after first asking us if we have any prayer requests. This astonishes me, in many ways. I am becoming less surprised every time we do this. And when the professor prays for us to have clarity of mind, and focus, and good health and strength for our many challenges in and out of class? I just get chills. It's so good to feel that love and inclusiveness. Studying at a Christian university is quite a radical act, in some ways.

That's it so far, but that's a pretty big discovery list for just a few days.

Tell me some of your discoveries this week?

I'm feeling so happy that we went up to Lake Superior on Sunday. It really did restore me in a certain way. It's not as good as "ocean time," which I crave and feel is absolutely necessary for my sanity, but it's very good. Pam is on the rocky beach (you can find agates there) and I'm on a hill above the lake, because on the drive up there, I was wearing less-than-sensible shoes. (Geez, Brina, what is this, a fashion show?!)

Some more images from our time up north. We were at Gooseberry Falls and at "the big lake," Lake Superior. I love this photo I took of Pam. So beautifully blue and pensive. I think it should be in a frame.
It's beautiful here in the fall, but in a different way than what I grew up with. In Minnesota the fall colors tend toward the yellows and golds; Vermont has much more orange and red in the mix.
Being in the woods and along the water felt so good. I hope it will fortify me for the week ahead.

Our trip up north...














Pam and Brina, joined at the head! and the beautiful fall colors at Gooseberry Falls, outside of Two Harbors, Minnesota.

We just got back this afternoon and of course I am swamped with work now that I'm home, but our girls' getaway was just wonderful. I'll put up a few more nature photos and maybe some more girls-in-the-woods photos tomorrow. I'm very lucky to have a friend who is Pam.

My new baby!

Still with us

Listening to Thelonious Monk right now, a cut of him playing his "'Round Midnight" at the piano. Now that's a George song (my dad). Completely.

Mom. She's there at the piano, so many of the pieces I play have her right in there. I sat down to play all the Debussy Children's Corner Suite pieces yesterday, and when I got to "Golliwog's Cakewalk," wow, she was IN THE ROOM! She was. She'd be playing piano and talking the whole time, telling us how she played it in a recital in high school, and complaining about the hard parts. She did the same with her favorite Mendelssohn and Grieg pieces. Just when you'd be enjoying listening to Mom play, she'd talk! I hope I don't do that, so much...

My grampa taught us girls how to dance, waltzing around the room with our feet resting on his. He was our Fred Astaire and his voice was like Bing Crosby. He had a gorgeous, easy voice and danced so smooth like silk. All the slow, dreamy songs, "Moonlight in Vermont," "Dream Dancing," the great Duke Ellington songs like "Mood Indigo", they are Grampa Marvin. And funny bits of pop music I still associate with him, too. The other day I heard Elton John and I remembered how Grampa could not understand the words to "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart", that rather irritating duet Elton did with Kiki Dee. It was always popping up on the radio when we'd be driving. He said, "Don't go stealin' my car? What did they say?" and Grampa just loved John Denver. "Sunshine on my shoulders"....Grampa would wake up in the morning singing that one.

My little boy Ethan loved music too; even though he was only a baby and never grew to be older than 4 months, he showed his preferences. We laughed about that, because some of the tapes he liked to listen to in the NICU were music we didn't much like. All the babies there had little mini-Walkmans in their isolettes, with teeny speakers. It was amazing how music helped the babies. I made homemade tapes of me playing and singing, mostly lullabies and quiet songs like "Edelweiss" and "Over the Rainbow." The same songs I sang to him when he was in the womb, I recorded for him to listen to at the hospital.

He liked that tape a lot, of course, and Kenny Loggins' "Pooh Corner", some French and English folk music tapes, and Linda Ronstadt's lullaby tape. Strangely, he adored the French album by Celine Dion, which was really the opposite of soothing for the rest of us. Bombastic is more like it. Egads! Ethan! Get some taste, kiddo!

They are not here in the room with me, but they are here. I just know there's music in heaven. God's too loving to deprive us. Can you imagine existence without music? I honestly can't, don't want to!

Tomorrow morning the grand piano arrives and I am like a little girl waiting for Christmas morning. I promise to have A.J. take my photo at the new piano and I'll put it up on the blog tomorrow so you all can see it. My happy gift to myself.

What IS this?!
Cousin Laurie found this record album at camp (our family cabin) in Vermont this summer. She thought it was such a hoot, we took a photo of it. Modern jazz! It is definitely from the '50s or early '60s and it was her father's record. We didn't get a chance to listen to it, but maybe the cover is the highlight? Laurie, if you're reading this, have you listened to the record yet? Do tell!

My beautiful canopy bed, the first purchase I made upon striking out on my own last year...it's my bed in the stars, so comfortable, so pretty, and I am so happy with it. You can only see part of it in this photo; it's really huge, and it reaches so high. I briefly experimented with putting an actual canopy at the top, you know, like in "Out of Africa", almost mosquito-netting like white sheer fabric? But you know, I would wake up in the night feeling claustrophic, whereas with the bed open like this, I sleep well all night and wake up feeling as though I'm floating in the sky.

Sometimes at night the moonlight comes in my window and makes the little stars shine. I love that so much.

You can see a bit of my room in this photo, too. My favorite mermaid painting, and a few of my nighties hanging up. I'm still getting the art up on the walls, and I plan to buy either two cozy chairs or a loveseat for the other part of the room. Right now, that part is Polly's domain; she sleeps up against the far wall with the windows above her (I have a whole wall of windows which look out on the skyline), and there's really nothing else in that area of the bedroom except my big hanging mirror.

I love my room. I'm the princess there!

On the bed is Snow Leopard. He was a gift from my friend J. when we were at the Vancouver Zoo two years ago. I sleep with him every night (Snow Leopard, not J.)! giggle

Mary Oliver wrote this poem. I don't know if I have the line breaks right. It's hard to tell with this blog layout. But this poem...it's where I was a year ago, when I made the decision to leave what was expected and known and stale and oppressive, for what could be.

TWO: The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.