Thievery and Flowers

It’s been a somewhat crazy month… culminating in the theft of Steve’s keys and then his van, work trailer and equipment. This one might even qualify for that show on stupid criminals. The weasel drove off with the tailgate/ramp of the trailer down – loudly drawing much attention to what he was doing and throwing sparks across the parking lot and down the street. Thankfully, the police called the next morning to tell us they’d found everything – except the keys and Steve’s cell phone. Replacing the locks in our house and cars (these are quite expensive with chip keys) would be a minor expense and hassle compared with what we were looking at before the vehicle surfaced. Before we could get the locks changed, the police called and said they had arrested the man and recovered the keys. There were 10 cameras catching all of this on tape. Nine were inside the store where the keys were stolen and one was outside taping the thief and his cohorts as he drove away. (More fodder for the stupid criminal show.)

So – the only thing lost was Steve’s phone and he’s due for a new free one anyway. It really couldn’t have worked out much better than that, right? Well… I still can’t wrap my brain around the concept that a small number of people believe  that taking something that doesn’t belong to them is an acceptable thing to do. Why? Because they need it? Want it? It was on a whim? A dare? In this economy, it’s hard to find a lot of fault when someone just goes off the deep-end and does something desperate to feed his family, etc. Happens everyday. It’s not right, but I can at least find a thread of understanding. This jerk drove off with Steve’s livelihood and it meant nothing to him. He didn’t NEED it nor WANT it. This was a joy-ride and it caused us a lot of mental and emotional energy and a little bit of money. The van was found less than a mile from where it was stolen with little time for driving around. And – it seems every year I read about a family losing everything under their Christmas tree – to a thief. There’s a disconnect that has happened long before the person became a thief – a disconnect between themselves and humanity. This is not a new concept, of course – DUH 101. It’s just that when it happens so close to home… directly affecting me… it tends to marinate for awhile and saddens me. A reminder that there’s one more person on the planet that, for whatever reason, has lost touch with his own humanity.

On to good things … Jack, is 9 months now. He’s coming over this afternoon so his brother and sister can go see Avatar with their Mom and Dad. It’s so nice having most of our grandkids nearby. We’ll head up to Seattle soon for a visit with Steve’s grandson, Henry, and the Kiwi’s will be visiting this year, too. Isabella will be 3 soon! We haven’t seen her since she turned one (except for Skyping – which is awesome). Can’t wait to see her!!!!

Stories Without Words is going great guns! We had a day this week with over 500 hits! The day was just short of the blog’s 2 month anniversary. We’ve also added weekly interviews with the artists and writers. Pop in and visit if you haven’t seen it and please tell your friends. You an also become a fan on Facebook. So many wonderful images and stories!

I see the sun is out and my camera is calling my name. I found rhododendrons (as well as other flowers) blooming in the park this week. With the exception of some extreme cold in early December, it’s been a fairly warm winter. It’s not uncommon to get some teaser weather mid-winter and then get smacked down before spring hits. I have no qualms about taking advantage of whatever the weather offers. The camera loves all seasons.

Spirals and A Life’s Journey

You can’t always duck when life’s punches come at you. Recently I worked with a woman who was in a horrific automobile accident in rural Oregon. She was driving a truck owned by her employer. Although the entire incident was the end result of some bad circumstances, her survival was due to her quick thinking, her instinct to survive, a strangers’ assistance, and some amazing paramedics. Her recovery was – and still is – due to her dedication to healing her body, as well as her spirit.

I have been working with her as a software trainer, preparing her for coursework in college, enabling her to obtain employment far from trucks and lonely rural roads. I contract through vocation rehab counselors to work with their clients – often preparing them for school. Out of respect for her privacy I’ll refer to her as Sarah. (BTW – I have her permission to write this.)

When I first met Sarah she showed me photos of her accident. I understand why this was necessary. Watching her moving about her home she doesn’t exhibit outright signs of any disability. She moves slowly and deliberately, but considering what her body has been through, it still seemed to be working for her. I soon discovered that she actually has some long-term/permanent injuries that, I’m sure, will try her patience. She is, however, quite determined to move onto this next phase in her life…scary as it may be. Seeing the pictures jolted me. I found it difficult to believe this woman had come out of that alive and able to function on any level.

It has been a long recovery. Sarah holds on to the accident and, in many ways, defines herself by its devastation and her miraculous survival. She cried when she told me the story. I cried (yes – how unprofessional of me. Oh well…). We hugged and a bond was formed. I don’t think I’ve ever worked with an injured client that I didn’t develop some sort of a bond with, but this was different. Right then, it became my job to not only teach her how to use her computer, but to encourage her to see and feel her own potential – a woman not defined by her past or even her present – but by her future. Doctors, counselors, physical therapists, insurance adjustors, Workers Comp, ergonomic specialists, teachers… the never ending line of people who help her keep her eye on the prize. The prize: To move from surviving and into thriving. Thriving: Where she no longer carries the pictures of the wreck… using them to convey what she has been through and what she’s had to cope with. Where succeeding in school – no matter how fast or slow it goes – gives her a new direction in her life. Where the memory of the accident fades to becoming a part of who she is, rather than the whole of her being.

Gilded Rose
Delicate – yet deceiving strong

Working with Sarah has been inspiring. She is very sweet, is quick to laugh and calls me “hon”. She reminds me of someone in my past, that I can’t put my finger on – but I know I had a great affinity for that person. There is a comfort in being with her. Not to mention the reminder that I’m lucky to be here. Aren’t we all? How can I complain about my back hurting anymore? LOL. They say (who are “they” anyway) that it’s “all relative”… but I don’t agree. Life is life. She got a raw deal. Most people on this planet got deals way worse than she did. I feel lucky – I got an OK deal. We won’t even talk about the Bill Gates of the world. But pain is pain, hunger is hunger, love is love, comfort is comfort. Not sure where I got off on this tangent, but when I’m around someone who has rolled with devastating punches, it reminds me of how lucky I am. No matter how much I’ve lost in my life – and I have lost a lot – I’ve also been blessed with some wonderful people in my life and had some amazing experiences. I guess I have chosen to identify myself by the good things that have come my way and that has helped me to shed that bad. People who are close to me say I’m an optimist. I have to agree. I think 90% of the time I see the glass as at least more than half full. My late best friend, Liza, could find a silver lining in anything and everything. Even in her passing – she taught me that there was goodness and honor and humor and song and love everywhere… you just had to remember to look for it.

I think Sarah has the eyes to see all the good when it comes. She is a strong woman (read On Woman Strong). I think she’ll plant herself among the roses and know when she’s landed on the prize and can move forward in her life.

Hey… speaking of life. What a wonderful surprise to see Eli Mazet at our door this week. Gift in hand with a note (much treasured by us) in case we weren’t home. He had made us a magnificent blown glass globe to thank us for helping to get his family out of their burning house (read the story here Bind and Twists of Fate). How did he know I loved spirals? The globe is just beautiful. It’s in our living room and seeing it serves as a reminder of that fateful night and how fortunate it was that fate took us there at that moment – and to check our smoke alarms. They’re doing well. Their house will be ready to move back into – hopefully soon – and we’re looking forward to being neighbors again and, hopefully, getting to know them a bit. I look forward to taking them a plate of my famous Kitchen Sink Cookies.

Looking Backward – Looking Forward

Wow… I am astounded that we have begun a new decade. Beginning a new year is always exciting – but walking into a new decade only happens a handful of times in our lives. I’m going out on a limb here, but this is the 6th time that I’ve begun a new decade. It causes one to look forward and backward at the same time. It’s easy to look back and see the havoc reeked by war, corruption and a broken economy. And the changes in technology needs little mention – social networking, blogs, YouTube, Googling, and bombs on the moon. Rather than that, I’m looking back at the wonder of this past decade and the changes in my life. This one’s a wee bit long, but hey… I haven’t written in here for 2 weeks….

Ten years ago: Not just the beginning of a new decade, but a whole new century. Y2K. I remember being at the grocery store (a popular – slightly alternative store) and buying jugs of water, peanut butter, juice, and candles along with some other staples. The store was packed with shoppers – many somewhat frantic – stocking up on the essentials and more. I wasn’t buying anything I wouldn’t buy on any ordinary day (except for dried milk – yuck), but I had concerns about what would happen when the clock hit midnight. I figured, at worst, we’d be down for a day or two and thought I should be prepared. It wasn’t just me I would have to fend for. My youngest daughter and her pals (my “other” daughters” lived in the house behind me. They climbed out their kitchen window and into my back door on a daily basis – how could I not provide the basics for them, if need be? So, of course the ball dropped without a hitch. All was well, although we didn’t know what awaited us in the coming 10 years – and I didn’t have a clue as to what to do with a box of dried milk?

At the start of the new century I was dancing into what would become a fairly dysfunctional relationship with a very sweet, but very confused man. Looking back, it should have been obvious that he wasn’t really ready for a relationship. He was struggling with his divorce (weren’t we all?) and trying to re-define his relationship with his two teen-age daughters. We moved into a relationship and moved right back out, attempting to settle for friendship. Baaaad idea.

Not a great way to start the new decade and I’m relieved to tell you that however a new year, decade or century begins is not an omen for how it will evolve. Phew!

Three months into 2000, I became a grandmother. My oldest daughter, Cye, gave birth to the amazing Aidan. How hard is it to watch you daughter – your flesh and blood – struggle with a long and extremely painful labor? Words can’t describe it. I remember my younger daughter, Amelia (she was 18 at the time) sliding down the wall, sobbing and looking completely helpless at not being able to stop her sister’s pain. I also remember how it was over in an instant. Wee Aidan popped his little head out and we greeted him through tears and huge sighs of relief. Aidan, an incredibly intelligent boy will be 10 in a few months. He’s upstairs sleeping, as is his little sister, Oona – a beautiful 7 year old girl who thinks laughter is the best medicine for everything. His mother and father divorced when Oona was still in diapers. Add a few years and Cye is remarried to one of the sweetest guys to walk the face of the earth – Nick. They gave themselves a wedding present – Happy Jack. He’ll be 1 in April.

When we were driving home from Washington after Aidan’ birth, Amelia, started to panic. She demanded that I pull over – off of I-5 – that she needed to get something out of the back of the truck. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but she was desperate so I took the next exit. She leapt out of the cab and started tearing her backpack apart looking for – what? Her birth control pills! She realized that she hadn’t taken one that morning. After seeing her sister bring Aidan into the world – she wanted none of that. I laughed the rest of the way home. The best birth control in the world! All teenagers should be required to attend a birth.

Thankfully, it didn’t last forever. Amelia married one of the other sweetest guys to walk the face of the earth, Matt. He hails from New Zealand – the most beautiful place in the world. They met when they were both living in Flagstaff, Arizona. She and Matt’s brother, Phil, worked at Macy’s, the best coffee shop in the world! They were married in the Coconino National Forest in Arizona. I, being Reverend Roka, married them. What an honor. (I also married Cye and Nick, along with other friends – is that cool or what?) Unfortunately, the US Department of Immigration (or whatever they’re called) lost all of the paperwork for Matt’s residency and they had to move to New Zealand. Now they’re on the other side of world, hanging up-side down – where Amelia stopped taking her birth control pills long enough to bring Isabella into the world. A delightful little Kiwi, Bella brightens our world every morning with her dancing video.

It is my intention to not bring politics into this blog, but I can’t help myself – given the time period here. To put it lightly – I am not a fan of George Bush and I am certainly not a fan of his wars. I voted and canvassed for Obama, but I’m not happy about his war policy either. OK…so I had to mention this because it was at a Eugene peace rally that I met one of the other sweetest men to walk the face of the earth – Steve. I wish I could say that I remember the precise moment I met him but I can’t. I remember when I first noticed him though. It was his sweet concern for me when I’d had to have my cat put down. I knew he was a good man. We became friends over months of protests, rallies and vigils and eventually – after many, many changes in his life – got together. In March we will celebrate 6 years of growing our relationship. He is a fine man, an adoring father, and lovable and doting grandfather. Steve has three daughters from his marriage – Stephanie, Katie, and Jill. My relationship with Steve’s daughters was a bit tenuous in the beginning. Over the years, we’ve gotten to know each other and have grown close. I treasure our relationships. Great news! Last night Stephanie’s sweetheart, Toby (yet another of the sweetest men to walk the face of the earth),  proposed to her! WooHoo!

A Pop Art Piece of Katie, Jill & Stephanie - I created for Christmas gifts

A few years ago Steve got the surprise of his life. A letter from a woman who believed he was her father. As it turns out – he is. He was a mere 18 years old when she was conceived. And now we are blessed by this woman, Stephanie, (yep… two daughters names Stephanie) and her delightful family. Steve gained a daughter, son-in-law, and grandson in an instant.

As for New Years resolutions… I resolve to keep things simple – somehow! And get organized… I’m wearing too many hats to not give them each their own place to hang. As I look forward into this decade I see our grandchildren grow AND I see more! …possibly a little brother or sister from Amelia and Matt (Cye is done) but certainly from Steve’s daughters.

I came into the last decade as a woman flying solo with 2 adult children. I had many friends. Sadly, I lost my best friend and another very close friend – both to cancer. Journeys that left me feeling deflated, yet blessed. I come into this new decade as a woman flying in-sync with a wonderful man. Between us we have 6 daughters and 4 grandchildren and a strange, but lovely dog. We have many many friends. We are blessed.

As per my custom…I look into my crystal ball…
I see visits to New Zealand and visits (possibly a move) back here with the Kiwis. I see the evolution of Steve and Roka. I see the floodgates open in my creativity… something that has stood dormant for far too long. I see a monetary break ¬– that working and focusing on our passions will bring all kinds of rewards – including a little of the green stuff. I see our community of friends grow and tighten at the same time- they are my foot-hold. I see Steve and I on a trip across the US – something we’ve talked about since we’ve been together. (Or at least to Wyoming to see my dear friend, Dusty and her family.)  I see an end to these stupid, costly, deadly wars. I see the basic necessities and comfort for all humans. I see a new found respect for our planet. I see a decade filled with awesome delights, peaceful reflection, warm hugs, passionate kisses, creative surges, bare feet in the sand, inspiring music, resounding peace, roaring belly laughs, and magnificent wonder.

Happy New Year and Happy New Decade to you all!
May we celebrate the goodness in our lives!

Steve & Roka

Wishing You All A Year Filled With Wonder, Passion and Awesome Delights!

Click on the image !

Everything is a Song

Steve breaks into song at least 50 times a day. It’s usually just one or two lines and, although it often is just a song on his brain, it usually pertains to something he’s doing and he almost always changes a word or two to fit. He doesn’t spend anytime thinking about replacing the words … it just springs from his mouth. He’s ingenious and hilarious. He makes me laugh all the time (yes… sometimes I laugh at him, but mostly I laugh with him). I think he knows every song written in the last half of the 20th century and he can tell you who wrote it or sang it. Everything is a song.

My newest obsession - Making flower mandalas out of some of my flower macros...Wheeeee!

Everything is a song… a story … a poem. I’m finding this to be true through the new blog. Stories Without Words is growing rapidly…at least in my perspective. This week it’s had close to 300 hits a couple of times… and it’s only 3 weeks old. AND it now has it’s own Facebook Page. Some of the stories and poems – even captions – that have been contributed are absolutely brilliant. The authors have written me and thanked my for making these images available to them for inspiration. The images are really the most amazing aspect of the site. I have the privilege of finding the images – that can tell a story, inspire a song or a poem. Some of the photographers are very well known, accomplished, award-winning artists. In fact, one Naomi Frost, just won several awards with the The International Aperture Awards  – the “world’s most prestigious international online photography competition”. Her image Washing Day was Stories Without Words first image and has some interesting stories penned for it. It is one of my favorite photographs of all time.

This venture has been an adventure for sure. I love it and so do the artists and writers. I hope you’ll pop in if you haven’t had a chance yet. Maybe you’ll be inspired as well. After all – Everything is a Song… or at lease a story or a poem.

Gifts and Stuff

When I was looking for the Christmas decorations last week I couldn’t find them anywhere. It took 3 attempts – Steve and I, braving the sub-freezing garage – to find the lone box of ornaments, lights and tinsel. Searching through the “rubble” for this box, I was forced to acknowledge how much crap we have. Between the two of us – the garage is chock full of stuff… junk…bikes…tools… boxes and boxes. Most of the stuff is ours, but some of it belongs to his kids, my kids, even an ex-boyfriend of one of his daughters. This past summer, I made a vow that I would get out there and go through the boxes and get rid of two-thirds of it. It didn’t happen and now it’s too cold.

We don't have room for a tree so we put the lights and ornaments up on our fireplace.

Do we really need even half the stuff we have? I’m not talking about items I use all of the time or even items we use occasionally. It’s the things that I hold on to… just in case this happens or that happens. Much of what I have out there is comprised of art or craft supplies. I used to do stained glass and fused glass – so I’ve kept my iron and glass cutter – “just in case”. I used to work with clay, too. I still have some of my clay working tools… “just in case”. Long ago I was a jewelry designer – working primarily in silver, beads, titanium, and niobium. I later dabbled in hand-worked jewelry, so obviously I had kept some of my hand tools “just in case”. I also love doing paper collage. I don’t DO it anymore, but I love it. So… “just in case” I still have collage materials and supplies. When I worked as a product illustrator I used various pens and nibs, had lots of papers, and an electric eraser. Do I still have these things? No!!! I actually got rid of my pens and nibs. I gave them to my scientific illustrator friend, Becky. Thinking about it, I also gave a lot of my collage stuff (but not all of it) to my mixed media artist friend, Marsha, a few years ago. I kept the electric eraser “just in case”. Last month my friend, Alison, really needed it for some interior design work she was doing. Guess what! When I went to look for it I couldn’t’ find it in the midst of all of the junk! My New Years resolution is getting expanded from organizing my photographs to getting rid of stuff and organizing EVERYTHING!

Vintage - Tradition

In celebration of less stuff we are giving our grandkids memories and “in-name” gifts for Christmas. They’ll get something from us in their stockings and certainly our Kiwi grand-babe will get a gift so that she has something to open on Christmas morning. (It’s hard to give memories to someone on the other side of the world.) I am adopting an animal (still haven’t decided what one) for her and I just adopted a penguin for each of my older grandchildren yesterday through Defenders of Wildlife. For the last few Christmas’s I’ve sent girls in Afghanistan to school for a year – in the name of friends – as well as other gifts from The Hunger Site. One year I picked up a list of wants and needs from a foster care organization and went shopping for items for teenagers in foster care. I had a wonderful time choosing items with specific young adults in mind. The gifts were given in the name of my friends, but I had the privilege of doing the shopping. I myself have received beehives, goats, rabbits, and chickens for families in 3rd world countrie – in my name – from friends – via Heifer International. These gifts are not necessarily expensive. Many are very inexpensive, in fact.

I’m convinced my grandchildren will keep the memories of doing things with us much longer than they’ll keep their toys. We’ll be building a gingerbread house one day (and then after Christmas, we’ll all get to eat it with them), go to see a 3D movie, drive around for our annual Christmas light tour, etc. Jack is a bit young for any of it, although I did buy him a needlepoint stocking just like all of his siblings and cousins have. Oh… and it goes without saying,  a lot of people will be getting photographs from me.

The one gift that I’ve managed to sustain for 15 years now is the annual Christmas/Solstice Caroling party. When I lived in a very cool part of Eugene – the infamous Whiteaker Neighborhood – we caroled in my neighborhood, often with more than 35 -40 people singing together. The neighbors generally new we were coming and would greet us with treats and nog. I always make a huge batch of grog and my wonderful friends gather round to share a potluck dinner, exchange ornaments, sing, sip mulled wine and laugh. There’s always a box for a charity – guests filling it with items needed. This party has become my traditional gift to my friends. This is a communal memory we all have. Unfortunately, due to an ice storm tonight (yes, the party was supposed to be tonight) we have postponed it to Sunday afternoon. It will be different, but it will still allow the wonderful people in our lives to come together for an evening of music and laughter.

It feels good to not be fully participating in the Christmas consumer game. …to really try to purchase whatever we do buy from fair trade organizations, non-profit gift organizations, and local artisans. This is a good year to think about a different way of giving. I fully believe that less is more.

Stories Without Words, Creativity and Birds

Every Picture Tells A Story –Or Does It? I wrote an entry on November 15 about this – images and the stories that they may, or may not, tell. My brain latched onto the whole concept – what do pictures convey to the viewer. My brain – working in overdrive, as it often does – leapt into high gear and less than 2 weeks later I had started another blog – Stories Without Words. An image is posted daily and then visitors are invited to write about what they see… a title, caption, poem, story, quote, song, essay – whatever. I have volumes of images available to me through some of the photographer and artist sites where my work is shown – such as Red Bubble and JPG Magazine. (Of course each artist has given me permission to use their images.) The artists that are participating in this blog are from all over the world, their communities reach around the globe. We’re all very excited to see this site launched and are anticipating its growth.

Sputnik - heart of a Dogwood bloom

(Thanks to amazing photographic Nancy Polanski for the name – Sputnik.)

Finding writers is another “story” (no pun intended). For me to find an image and post it with the relevant data takes about an hour a week, whereas letting the image speak to someone and for that person to then write a palatable piece can take a long time. Oh… AND ‘tis the season that everyone is uber (I LOVE that word) busy. I’ve been contacting writing blogs and groups, stirring up some interest in the process. Many artists are announcing this on their Facebook pages and Twitter. If you know anyone who loves creative writing or may be inspired by some amazing images, please share this site with them.

The creative process is always an amazing thing to watch unfold. It’s like the onion metaphor. I see layer upon layer peeled back as a particular technique is absorbed by a student. That’s when I see the “flash cards” of possibilities light up in their eyes. I worked with an awesome portrait photographer last week – Peggy Iileen Johnson. Wow… her work is amazing. Not only are her portraits beautifully crafted… they are unique and very personal. She wanted to learn more about Adobe Photoshop so that she could put a creative spin on her portraiture. Taking what is already art – her portraits – and deleting and adding elements and backgrounds to create something new. She already knew how to use many aspects of Photoshop (which can be a rather intimidating application). We spent two hours working with some of the tools and she “got” it. The next day she sent me a piece that she had created. It was beautiful.  Ooooh… I love my job.

On the creative process….I’ve been watching two of my closest friends – Becky Uhler and Marsha Barr -find their artistic voices for the past couple of years. As I’ve watched their creativity grow – each in their own art – I’ve realized that I, too, have been feeling my own creativity emerging – again. I’ve worked in various media over the years… clay, jewelry, photography, graphic design, illustration, writing, glass - stained and fused, paper craft, and the list goes on. I’ve even made my living with some of these endeavors – specifically jewelry design, illustration and graphic art, but what I’m feeling now is much more visceral and powerful and I know that the issues and energy that blocked it in the past are gone… long gone. I am surrounded with loving support. I know that this time the process has staying power. Now I watch Becky emerge as an amazingly talented and applauded scientific illustrator and Marsha – figuratively, yet literallly – find her voice as a vivid story-teller with her mixed media assemblage pieces. They both participated in holiday studio/art shows this weekend. I spent time with them both at their shows. I am so inspired by them. That’s not really news though. They’ve inspired me – and each other – for the many, many years that our friendships have grown. I am so very blessed to have these two amazing women in my life… I am honored to call them my friends…my sisters… my family.

Corn-Goddess by Marsha Barr - Addressing genetically engineered food.

As I was writing this I had to tear myself away and go see about all the commotion I heard outside. Hundreds of birds had decided to take their lunch break in our maple trees. They sang their songs loudly as they flitted from branch to branch, pecking at the wood for whatever speck of food they could find. It wasn’t deafening, but pretty close to it. Such a gathering of birds – always an amazing thing to see and hear….and what a gift it was.

Watercolour of Guinea Hen Feather by Rebecca Uhler

I saw a bald eagle yesterday. It flew over our car as we drove to Portland. I claimed it was a good omen and it proved to be. It was a very healing weekend for a lot of people that are dear to me. I’m working on a post about this. You’ll get to read it soon… it’s still in it’s infancy. It’s about what makes family family. Stay tuned.

Tradition and Being Grateful

I’m grateful for so many things, the first being the love of family and friends and my sweet man, our health, a warm home and food (and wine) a plenty. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love putting the feast together. It’s our gift to our guests. I’m not generally a control freak, but this is one thing I tend to reign over. I’ve been wondering why I hold on so tightly to this holiday and I’ve come to the conclusion that its’ because it represents tradition. I don’t have a lot of tradition in my life and creating a wonderful – and predictable – feast for my family and friends has become tradition.

Thanksgiving Day – the grand-kids had a lot of fun with some magnifying glasses.

Over the years I’ve “got it down” as far as what I’m making. It’s basically a traditional Thanksgiving meal with a few twists. There’s always the turkey, gravy and semi-traditional stuffing. The potatoes are mashed with a lot of roasted garlic and feta cheese. The yams are spicy with an orange-hazelnut butter. The cranberries are cooked with ginger and orange. I leave green veggies, salad, appetizers to the guests. My “traditional” dessert is a pumpkin cheesecake drizzled with a caramel sauce and sweet roasted pumpkin seeds. I was banned, this year, from making the cheesecake because I was still recovering from a long drawn out lo-grade flu and Steve knew that I would be too burned out to enjoy the day, so he gently put his foot down. He (with a lot of interference from me) made pineapple-upside-down-cake. Yummm! Family came for dinner and more family came for dessert. A wonderful time had by all. Except for the extremely slow cooking turkey everything went smoothly and tasted great.

I think one of my favorite things about the day is when at the table we all hold hands each person speaks of what they’re grateful for. It’s been fun to see how the grand-kids idea of what they’re grateful for has changed over the years. I was brought to tears by them when they each spoke, at length, of how grateful they are for their family. Of course wee Jack just sat at the table and cooed. Not having the New Zealand contingency here is always difficult and painful. I look forward to the day that wee Isabella (and her parents of course) is here to have Thanksgiving dinner with Nana and Steve, her Aunt and Uncle and cousins. Skyping always helps.

What am I grateful for? Worthy of repeating -  my family and friends… which as far as I’m concerned is one and the same. I am grateful for our nice warm (most of the time) home. I’m grateful that there’s always good food on the table. I’m grateful that I am able to work for myself (even though some days go by that I wish I could just go punch a time-clock and forget about it). I’m grateful that I’ve re-discovered my love for photography, after a 20 plus year absence, and am finding success in it. I’m grateful that (with the exception of having just had the flu) we’re all healthy. I’m especially grateful that my youngest daughter, after a struggle with a lengthy illness, is once again healthy. I’m grateful for my newest grand-babe, Jack. I’m grateful that my daughters are both happily married to wonderful men, who love and respect them. I’m grateful that Steve’s daughters and I have been developing sweet relationships and that we’re growing closer. I’m grateful that at least one of my daughters lives in Eugene so we can be near them. I’m grateful for our fluffy canine family member, m’Lady (yes… another chapter in the Lady/Woman debate). Looking at what I am grateful for… I see that everything is part of the tradition that is being newly created every year when November rolls around.

I am so truly blessed and extremely grateful.

On Woman Strong

“…Trina takes her paints and her threads
And she weaves a pattern all her own
Annie bakes her cakes and her breads
And she gathers flowers for her home
For her home she gathers flowers
And Estrella dear companion
Colors up the sunshine hours
Pouring music down the canyon
Coloring the sunshine hours
They are the ladies of the canyon” – Ladies of the Canyon – by Joni Mitchell

It’s 1975 and I’m sitting in my tiny little house on Opera Drive in Bisbee, Arizona. I’m listening to one of my favorite albums of all time – Joni Mitchell’s, Ladies of the Canyon – listening to the title song. I’m kneading rye bread dough (triticale was my favorite bread to bake, but I baked a lot of rye as well), looking out my kitchen window at the little houses and shops that line the canyon walls. An ideal setting? Yes, it was. At times it felt like perfection. I related deeply to this song, living in this beautiful, tiny town on the border of Mexico. This picturesque community was filled (and filling) with artisans of all kinds – people who created with cameras, paint, cloth, clay, herbs, turquoise, silver, flowers, glass, food…smiles. Many people would simply pass-off the new occupants of this town as hippies… a blanket term that barely offered a glimpse into the spirit of these people. I was raised on the east coast – in a suburb of D.C, but Bisbee is my “hometown” because this is where I was able to shut out all of the “shoulds” and “supposed-tos” that I (and most of us) had been fed all my life. This is where I found my voice… not even realizing that it had been missing. This is where I discovered me. This is where I discovered that my family did not only consist of my parents and my siblings. My family has grown with every dear friend I’ve made. My family is huge.

I was then, and am now, surrounded by strong, capable, independent, and talented women. Back then many of us were single mothers – struggling to raise our children alone and committed to instilling them with a sense of community and an obligation to give back in whatever way they could. Many of these “children” are now living in and with community. They are integral parts of many peoples’ lives – lending their foresight, intelligence, compassion and strength.

I have witnessed some of my friends lives take horrific turns that would bring me to my knees. Many of us have lost a marriage, but how many of us have lost a child? I supported two very close friends through this unthinkable, twisted curse – watched them grieve. And then I watched them come back to life with a greater appreciation for what is still here. I lost my best friend to cancer almost 8 years ago and watched her adult children suffer with unspeakable grief. I recently held the hand of another dear friend as she passed on – also from cancer. These women passed with graceful courage. And although their stories were vastly different – I learned much from watching each of them. Having strength didn’t mean that they weren’t afraid, that they didn’t feel weak. It just meant that they faced what was coming and they knew they had the loving support of their families, friends, and community. We, their families and friends, grieved together – gaining strength from each other and helping one another to move on.

When I first moved to Bisbee, I went to weekly meetings for a women’s group. I went religiously. Talk about some powerful women! So, as we’re putting together a small women’s health clinic and a daycare co-op we were trying to knock down a lot of walls – walls built by men and the “powers that be” (yes, we were an energetic group). This is where I really came face-to-face with feminism. I’ve never really defined myself as a feminist (I’ve used the word “humanist” to describe myself many times), but I do ascribe to the principles and I worked for and fought for women to have equal footing just like the women who fought before us. Even though we’re still not there, I am proud that I am part of that process. It was during these meetings that I learned that the term “lady” or “ladies” was considered insulting to women. I immediately “got it”. Having been raised to “act like a lady” and “be ladylike” – the idea of denouncing the term thrilled me. I felt validated. In my upbringing a lady was a girl or woman who knew her place, never spoke her mind and often smiled through clinched teeth. She was primped and proper and never disagreed with anyone – especially a man. Anyone who knows me knows that this comes nowhere near describing me, or any of my friends. I spent much of the 70’s trying to unlearn everything that had to do with “being a lady”.

But, where then, did that leave the Ladies of the Canyon? I mean, here I was living in this haven with these wonderful women and men and when I heard Joni say the word – it was different. These women of the canyon that she sings about sounded lovely, sweet, independent, creative and free. They didn’t sound oppressed. They sounded like the women of Bisbee. When I think of the term “woman” I think of strength, integrity and substance. I think of the “ladies of the canyon”. It was during this time that I came to define my female friends and myself as women. It’s an ageless thing… not bound by young or old.

Painted Rose

Now, fast-forward 35 years later. I still have a visceral reaction to the term “ladies” much of the time. And it’s not only in the usual context where it’s used in a negative way – such as a stranger calling “Hey, Lady”. Perfectly well meaning, respectful woman can use the term and my hackles go up. I’ve been trying to figure out why it happens with certain references and not others. I am a business owner and it must have escaped me before, but I’ve just recently been hearing the term more and more. I did a poll on email and Facebook and asked women friends how they react to the term. I am amazed at the variety of responses. A couple of the women really didn’t care one way or the other. Most didn’t mind if it was used in conjunction with gentlemen. Of the women under 50 years old, most said that it was dependent on the context that it was used in and who was using it (some didn’t like it when a man used the term), but most preferred WOMAN. There were a few women who added their distain for the terms MA’AM and GIRL. GIRL was acceptable at times – when used by a group of women referring to themselves. Interestingly most of the woman over 50 had a very negative reaction to it and many of them are counselors or psychologists. One counselor referred to clients who felt powerless in a world where they were expected to behave in a prescribed manner… no voice, no power – “ladylike”.

When I consider my history in reference to this word and add to that my connection to some wonderful strong, yet gentle, women who speak for themselves and do for themselves, it’s no wonder I have a reaction to hearing a professional woman refer to her peers as “ladies”. Without experiencing the negative effects of the term, they would never consider that some of the women they are speaking to feel insulted. Most men who refer to their wife, partner, lover, friend as their lady – would never dream of insulting her. And if she doesn’t mind then there isn’t an issue. I’ve realized that when it becomes an issue for me is when I hear the word in context with “business ladies” or with the idea of “empowering ladies”. For me – and a whole generation of women and men – this is an oxymoron. How can one be empowered when one is behaving in a prescribed manner? It became obvious in the poll that this is a generational thing. The most preferred term seems to be woman, while many felt lady was okay in closed company. It was a landslide for women over 50 – for counselors, teachers, therapists, business owners, artists, chefs, designers, doctors, writers, moms, and grand moms – most of them found it insulting and some found it derogatory. It’s not that I can’t accept that this term is being used so freely – without an understanding of it’s potential harm. I’m actually relieved that the meaning seems to have changed over the years. I can only assume that this younger generation of women was not raised being told to be lady-like or to act like a lady. I did make a bad faux pas when my older daughter was younger (as she so recently reminded me) and scolded her a few times using the term “now, young lady”. I guess we can’t always escape the way we were parented – I certainly didn’t, much as I tried. Maybe a new definition really has been created for this old term that has branded so many women with inappropriate labels. Still… it brings me sadness to see so many complacent young women who are clueless about the road that was paved for them by us, by our mothers, and their mothers and on and on.

Lisa Macdonald pointed out in her article on the subject in Green Left Weekly that language reflects rather than shapes reality. But the reason the women’s movement struggles against sexist language is that language also reinforces reality.

Barbara White – Different Cultures and Languages – List of offensive words to be avoided
Lady: Avoid using this in place of “woman” unless you intend shadings of meanings that describe someone who is elegant, “refined”, and conscious of propriety and correct behavior. In most contexts this word is condescending. It also often serves to trivialize.

Common dictionary definitions for Lady:
1.  A well-mannered and considerate woman with high standards of proper behavior.
2. A woman regarded as proper and virtuous.
3. A well-behaved young girl.
4. A woman who is refined.

The origins of Lady?
f. hlāf LOAF + *-diġ- knead (cf. OE. dǣġe kneader of bread, female (farm) servant, dairy-woman; also DOUGH);

How ironic! The word was derived from the kneader of bread. And there I am kneading rye bread. I guess I’m a Lady of the Canyon after all. But I am not properly dressed nor well behaved, I am not refined and I am certainly not considered virtuous. Oh, maybe  “the lady doth protest too much”.

 

Veil

 

A Women, Her Coffee and Her Pictures

Oh…this dang cold. I guess I’m lucky to be old (older) because I may be more resistant to the swine flu – having been born before 1957… apparently I’ve been exposed to it twice. I spent two days sounding like Minnie Mouse. No husky “cigarettes and whiskey” voice for me. I just squeaked my requests to Steve to “please get me that” or “please do this” sounding like I was on helium. He has been a saint – a very good nurse. … except that I’m still waiting on him to go get some milk for my coffee (we’re out)… it’s just nasty without something dairy-like in it. While I wait for my morning-joe I watch the Food Network. Many new and different recipes for Thanksgiving. I watch and think about trying something new, but I know exactly what I’m cooking for that day. I’m not generally a control freak, but I do want ultimate control of what we have for dinner that day. It’s my favorite holiday and my dinner is our gift to our family and friends. Turkey, stuffing (a take-off from my mom’s recipe), yummy gravy, garlic-cheese chunky roasted mashed potatoes (with peel), ginger-orange cranberries, spicey yams and pumpkin cheesecake drizzled with caramel sauce and sweet roasted pumpkin seeds. Our guests are left to bring drinkables and green veggies.

Aaaah… got my adulterated coffee now. (Thank you, Sweet Steve). Coffee in hand… with my blog page in front of me, I write. Ah… but first check email. Oh… then peek at Facebook. I sure am easily distracted. I start writing and I’m reminded of a recent conversation about the use of the terms woman vs. lady. I want to do a blog-post about it and, knowing my own take on the distinction, I decided to post the question to my Facebook friends and also pose the question to email friends for different viewpoints and material. The responses have been wildly varied and extremely interesting. I’m posting the email responses on Facebook as they come in – if it’s okay with each responder. Curious, curious, curious. I hope to write the post by the next entry… .if not at least the one after.

Mine Eye - Selective Color

As I attempt to write this post… I’m distracted by the email beep calling me to see new comments on the afore mentioned subject. …The beep – again. This time though, it’s a notice that my amazingly talented artist friend, Jan, has updated her blog. Wouldn’t you know it? Synchronicity at play again. In trying to write without distraction herself, she has discovered and posted a link to Write Room – a Mac application strictly for writing without distraction. A black screen with a bright font (gold, green or blue – sort of like the old mono-tone monitors), it’s easy to – read with no bells or whistles (good thing – THAT would be distracting), no spell correction, no margins, etc… just word flow. Of course it may be necessary to turn off your email or at least the sound.

This is day four of this bug. Just hanging out with my laptop and remote control. I want so badly to go for a walk, but it’s too wet and cold. Getting a bit of work done, but mostly looking for open-source photo galleries on the web (any recommendations?) and plunking away in Photoshop – playing with textures. I love taking a photograph a few steps further – editing color, texture, combining photos, but I don’t often have the time. As I’ve said many times – I really can get lost playing here. I took this photo last summer at a friend’s home and edited with textures and overlays of colors.

Textured Blossom

I’m mentally organizing my photographs. Seriously – I need to sort and organize the thousands upon thousands of photos and photographic art – both digital and print (the negatives, too) – over 25 years of accumulated photos PLUS family photos. I looked on-line for some organizing software and decided that I just need to do it manually with my folders and preview. Although I’m a huge Mac fan – I’m not a fan of iPhoto and I want a bit more control – so manual organization is where it’s at for me. This is my New Year’s resolution. I just wrote that as I thought it. Now it’s in writing – so it shall be my resolution for the new year. Oh… do I have my work cut out for me! Any organizational ideas?