I remember that day, staring out of my classroom window. It was the day before I was to take off to finish the final preparations for our wedding.

I remember wishing the weather would be as gorgeous on September 16th, 2001 as I took my vows and D took his.

I remember thinking the placecards were not right. I had to fix them.

I remembered I had to confirm the number to the caterer and the crab house where we were having the rehearsal dinner.

I remember my boss coming into my class in tears saying the first tower was hit.

I remember wakening from my fantasy bridal state and feeling like I had just had my head pulled out of my ass and that there were bigger things happening around me.

I remember hearing about tower 2, then the Pentagon, then a missing plane that was off course.

I remember trying desperatley to call my fiancee’, my D and having no luck.

I remember talking to my father who told me through hell or high water that he would be in Baltimore on Sunday if he had to walk over all the bridges in New York to get there.

I remember talking to D who told me he would be at the Gramercy on Sunday with me and the officiant and that was all we really needed.

I remember panicking over all my family and friends who lived in and around the city, who rode trains under the towers, and who walked through the lobby doors and rode the elevators that were now burning.

I remember thinking that our president was hiding under a desk somewhere.

I remember feeling selfish thinking about our wedding and rearringing plans,upon plans, upon plans based on flight schedules and cancellations.

I remember crying a lot.

I remember shutting off the television because I could not cry any more.

I remember seeing my older brother, who waited for hours in the airport to board one of the first flights out of Arizona to Baltimore and thinking he really, truly loved me.

I remember 90 guests, who traveled from the NY,NJ,CT metro area standing up to the terrorists by coming to our wedding and celebrating love and life.

I remember hugging my friend Arnold extra hard because his home was a hairs breath away from the towers.

I remember the quiet kindness that followed us from Baltimore to Canada.

I remember a Canadian fire fighter putting his hand on my shoulder and telling me he was sorry.

I remember a childhood friend who lost his life.

And today, I promise never to forget that peace, kindness, and humanity matter above all else.

way too funny and awesome to keep to myself.

I have some amazingly talented friends. Among them is my friend Bubsy who painted this:

Yes. That is a 23 year-old Mama. It was my first year in Baltimore. I was restless and filled with the angst that a 23 year-old has when they want to do great things and have no idea as to how to do them.

I had went to art school already. I had lived (briefly) in Santa Fe. I had moved so many times looking for “it” that finally I threw a virtual dart at a map and had wound up in Baltimore. (If I had not thrown the virtual dart and made that decision I would have ended up in Oakland by way of the job offer I got the very next day.)

I had made up my mind. The first AmeriCorps program that accepted me would get me. By God I am grateful that it was Baltimore.

I found some direction and found my network. I adopted Baltimore as my home. I switched my alliances to the local sports teams (much to the chagrin of my dad and family). I learned to pick a blue crab.

I was still trying to find my way artistically. I can draw. I am not a great painter, but I do get color. Color is my strong suit. I can weld and sculpt from almost any material I find… but it was not coming together. I hung out with my artist friends. I lived in Gertrude Stein’s old house with an activist, a filmmaker, and a dancer (all women.. veddy cool.) We all struggled in that way the the 20 something year-olds do. We all were trying to find “it”. The elusive soul-filling medium that would make us great.

I Was a barista. I met my D. I fell in love, grew up a little, traveled more extensively, and got married. I worked as a special educator. All the while keeping my eye out for that thing.

I had my cowboy. The nature of what artist materials I could have in my home changed dramatically. The sewing machine, pins, paints, etc. were replaced by big primary plastic exer-saucers and play yards. I needed the portable project.

I learned to knit for the second time with my girl G. She has been a constant source of creativity and friendship for 10 years. I kept knitting. I learned about “good yarn” vs. Red Heart. I kept knitting. I knit my first socks and was hooked. I wanted to know everything about fiber. My soul was filling with creative juices. I felt that I found “it”.

I taught myself to dye yarn and found myself in this place. The place of being an indie artist that produces little watercolors for the feet. Strange that dye would become my medium.

I am in this great place because of all of you. I have an actual studio space to work in because of you. I feel that my actual and virtual “village” is such an amazing network of creative human beings. Human in the best sense of being human. We care. We share our joys and our sorrows. We support one another and go from being “imaginary” friends to real friends via the power of the internet and the gatherings at the fiber festivals.

I thought it would be fitting for my final post in 2006 to be one of gratitude. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there. I would never have actualized my dreams as an artist without each and every one of you. Thank you.

Here’s to hoping that peace finds us all in 2007. Health and happiness to us all.

Namaste’.

when my little boy requested to listen to this song off the Curious George soundtrack in the car and sang it all the way to the sitter this morning….
My Own Two Hands

I can change the world
With my own two hands
Make it a better place
With my own two hands
Make it a kinder place
With my own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands
I can make peace on earth
With my own two hands
I can clean up the earth
With my own two hands
I can reach out to you
With my own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands
I’m going to make it a brighter place
With my own two hands
I’m going to make it a safer place
With my own two hands
I’m going to help the human race
With my own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands
I can hold you
In my own two hands
I can comfort you
With my own two hands
But you’ve got to use
Use your own two hands
Use your own
Use your own two hands
Use your own
Use your own two hands
With our own
Our own two hands
With our own
Our own two hands
With my own
With my own two hands

Sometimes… in those stressful mommy days… you get a glimpse that you are doing something right.

well… maybe I should say got the monkey off my back. ( I can not resist any Peter Gabriel song references. I scored some concert tickets to see him when I was VERY preggers with the cowboy and rubbed my big buddah belly to make a doorman feel sorry for me and give me two tickets!)
I FINISHED…meaning knitting, weaving in ends, and crocheting (blech! I would rather die in a ring of fire (a la soapturtle) than do that again. No offense to all you hookers out there!) the edges of D.’s 2 year long blanket!!!! My longest UFO is now an FO. Woot!

This blanket ( that is to have no photos!) was the first thing that I tried to knit for D when I first started knitting again. Umm…. there are some gauge issues… and some intarsia problems….. but overall a lot of love for my D. I hustled to finish it by the weekend (even with a nasty cold ) because… when I presented my hubby with a BIG box for his birthday on Friday (thank you very much to all of you well wishers… he was touched!) he immediatley said “Is this my blanket????” and was so excited. Uh…. had to fix that, right?
I felt kinda crappy and too self-critical about the blanket. He just wanted something that I made to wrap himself up in when he is cold… or alone… or even when I steal the covers ( for the record: I NEVER do this… right, honey?).
So, lesson learned. Stop agonizing over perfectionism and just let go for a minute. See it from another perspective. Blanket done. Whew!
In other news…

I have created a ring for PIF. Feel free to check it out and join!
Did you see the PIF map has added more markers? I am so excited! I sent 12 out and now there are 28 PIF’s on record! Whoo hoo! How killer is that? You have no idea how happy it makes me to see more markers on the map or just to know that folks are being kind to each other. For no reason at all other than to be kind. I think this world could use a little more of that, don’t you?

C*EYE*BER Fiber news…. I am getting ready to dye a huge run of yarn. If you have any requests you can email me here.

Thanks all… remember… keep Paying It Forward!

When I was in high school…. I rode the bus. My brother drove or was driven by a friend… but I rode the big yellow dork machine. My brother, by the way, was older and far cooler than his little sister.

The school I went to was fairly affluent…. my family was not… but the school was a regional school that served some very high rent districts. I generally went to school to smoke in the bathroom and attend my art classes. Never really feeling like I fit in with one particular group… well… maybe the girls who smoked in the bathroom in lieu of eating lunch. (FYI: I have since quit smoking). I kind of always felt out of place… like the kid on scholarship.
Sometimes, I still feel like I am the scholarship kid.

I was running late this morning… the cowboy got up early and I went to bed late the night before… so I had no time to get ready for the day. Quick…hair in pigtails and out the door.

I had an orthodontist appointment this morning… enough said. Adult orthodontia is no laughing matter. So the image you should be getting is… BRACES, hair in pigtails… denim skirt and linen kaftan shirt. Oh boy….

I made a pedicure appointment at the RED DOOR SPA last week knowing that it is difficult to accomplish much after my ortho guy does anything to my dentition. So off I go to my appointment in the ritzy outdoor shopping venue that is reminiscent of the outdoor malls in California. You know… the ones with boutiques instead of stores? Yeah, that one.

Boy, did I get the looks. Every shop that I walked in to I was greeted with the WTF??! look.

And… funny that… I didn’t care. I went to get the best damn pedicure that I have ever had… met some really nice people in the chairs near me… and cashed in one some precious time that I did not have to think about potty stuff. (THANK GOD! He is doing great… but I am so damn tired!)

Thanks to my wonderful D. for a gift certificate for Mother’s Day. I had enough left over to subsidize next month’s visit. ( I even got to cash in my Victoria’s Secret Gift Card from Valentine’s Day)….

I like pigtails…. I tolerate my braces… and I just don’t give a damn anymore about feeling out of place. So… that club that I always felt like I didn’t belong to? Yeah, I renamed it.

It’s the Rat’s Ass Club. Meaning, I don’t give a rat’s ass about stuff that doesn’t matter.

There are many, many memberships in my club. We are always welcoming new members. Wanna join?