Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Thank you for all the amazing birthday wishes!!!

Reflection of Minneapolis's stone arch bridge in the Mississippi River
A birthday is a new beginning of sorts. I'm 67 now, not 66. Let's start over.

Forty seemed so old when I was 19 and having surgery on my spine. Forty seemed like a tremendous goal.

We have the chance to begin again every day. Every moment, really. Every time we think a thought or open our mouths, we can go from here to there and have a fresh start. Life is stuffed with changes and transitions and bridges to somewhere new.

When I was in my 20s or even in my 30s I imagined my elder years would be staid and even. It's been anything but that. Here's my list of transitions of the last dozen years (in no particular order.) Things are always changing for all of us.

Maybe now the question is, what changes do I want to make in the coming year?

Children at home to empty nest
Married to divorced
Brunette to blond
Blond to silver
City dweller to suburb dweller
Suburb dweller to city dweller
Crazy and depressed everyday to crazy and depressed now and then.
On medication to off
Meat eater to vegetarian
Vegetarian to meat eater
Anxious person to somewhat less anxious person.
Dog and cat owner to houseplant fancier
Freeway driver to ardent pedestrian
Caregiver of the dying to bereaved
Homeowner to condo dweller
Ground-floor inhabitant to fifth floor inhabitant
Distracted to devourer of books.
Insomniac to dream journaler (some nights, anyway)
Mothered to motherless
Californian to Minnesotan
Beach walker to riverbank walker
Wheat eater to gluten intolerant
Hardwood floor fanatic to I love my bedroom carpeting
Grandmother of children to grandmother of high schoolers.
Owner of too many books to owner of fewer (but still too many) books
Big drinker to little drinker.
66-year old to 67-year-old

Friday, November 22, 2019

I just want to make things

My stress levels have been ratcheting upwards this week. Instead of sleep there's tossing, turning, and heart thumping. Maria Yovanovitch and Fiona Hill are living inside my TV and my brain. I try to write and there are 10 million ideas or no ideas. Either way the screen stays blank. I just want to make things. Why not make paper? Maybe I need more blank pages to sort out my thoughts.

At my internship, I made paper from old t-shirts.


I formed the sheets in the workshop and brought them home still damp.


They match my desk. I'm not sure what I'll do with them. Journal pages? Book covers? Collage?


Last night when I couldn't sleep I was googling portable paper beaters at midnight. 

And I googled Gordon Sondland's watch which let to some rich attorney flashbacks. Which lead to divorce flashbacks.

Both of these google forays were bad ideas. I don't need a portable paper beater (and I certainly don't need a $50,000 watch) because I have THIS PLACE blocks away and a paper making internship with a papermaker who is a genius. (Cave Paper will be part of an exhibition in 2022 at the MET in NYC called Paper Legacy.) 

I feel like an idiot on many days and yet life leads me to amazing people.