Thursday, August 18, 2005

What is near...




What objects take on the personas of the tattered blankets we used to tote around as children? Mine was pale yellow with a silky hem, though for as far back as I can remember, the hem was unnattached and hanging mostly free - I called it my "Silky," and couldn't fall asleep unless I was holding the blankie part in one hand, and Silky in the other.

As I've been aquiring handbags lately, this stuff-to-carry subject has been on my mind. Right now I'm carrying a new chalk bucket from Black Diamond - garbage bag green with a red embroidered logo - and find that it holds quite a bit. Two cell phones (one work, one play), my iPod mini, a brush, several butterfly clips, my wallet, checkbook, lip gloss (Origins, sheer raspberry).....

Like Blankie and Silky, the contents of the little - or oversized - bag at my side make me feel safer somehow.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Clarity

After a summer of hot, HOT dry weather, I celebrated Monday's rain by running in Milll Creek Canyon with Arnie and Red, my boyfriend's Red Heeler. Red is the anti-Arnie. Short and tough with a barrell-chest and big, alert ears, Red is the fun police.

Arnie runs ahead of me, all legs and lank, nose in the air, shifting from Retriever snifs to Golden silliness in an instant. He prances and lopes into puddles, stops short if something catches his eye, then charges ahead again. Red stays behind, running at my heels in his businesslike trot, looking up at me from time to time.

With the heavy rain, Mill Creek was all but empty. A few trail workers were out building a retaining wall, and the odd shapes their ponchos took on in the wind confused Red, who stopped and growled, his hackles high and ears low. Arnie galloped right up to them, wagging his tail as if he'd known them for years.

I ran past, breathing in the sweetgrass, then sage that lined the trail. Summer was so hot and still - no wind or rain - that it seemed like these smells were coming out for the first time in months, the water washing the layers of dust that had kept them gray and limp and half dead. On the way back down, I stopped and picked some of each to add to the vase of dasies on my kitchen table. Red looked at me disapprovingly, as if to say, "why not leave them here for others to enjoy?" Arnie first sniffed, then tried to eat the small bouquet out of my hand. Some days I'm Red - businesslike and serious, expecting everyone in the world to subscribe to my moral considerations. Other days, like today, I'm Arnie - all play and getupandgo, knowing that sometimes the only way to experience life to its fullest it to taste it firsthand.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

First Go

Reeling now from a night of tasting too many wines and eating too much food, I'm avoiding the work that awaits just to do penance and write in the blog. When I started this process - all of, what, four days ago? - my goal was not to embark on another activity that made me feel guilty (a la climbing), yet here I am, Tuesday morning with a truckload of work to do, feeling bad for not paying enough attention to the blog. Mm hmm....Who do I owe it to, you ask? Well, ME, of course, since I'm still not sure how many people actually read these things (but THANK YOU, Rai, for the shout out - you're such a good friend!). I guess it's like the other activities in my life that I love but can't find enough time for - playing the guitar, knitting, reading - because I'm too busy with the "public" things - climbing, or running, or skiing, or the things I think I SHOULD be doing. But this blog is a little bit different - on a couple levels. First, it's not closed up in an old journal, and shoved in the back of the drawer when I'm finished writing in it. No, very much the opposite - it's out there in the world of bloggers like yourselves, where I just might be held accountable for the things I say. Also, because of the absurd level of guilt I seem to posses (though where I got it I have no idea, because I wasn't raised Catholic and my parents are very much not into guilt tripping), I won't let myself slack on this.

But right now I'll sign off, because of the strong feeling that I want - make that NEED - to go running. Again with the guilt for chrissakes. More later.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Onsight

It's more than a little daunting, telling YOU (if there's anyone out there) all about what's going on in MY head, but because I moved here a short time ago, and work from my home, YOU are really all I have to share things with. So, if you'll kindly bear with me, maybe offer a courtesy laugh or two, maybe nod understandingly once or twice - if the moment moves you - I would appreciate it greatly.

I came across an old REM song today - At My Most Beautiful. I listened to it while running the White Pine drainage (the downed trees in that zone - carnage from the snow slides this winter - were super scary, since that's the "safe" bc skiing choice when the avy danger is high) this afternoon, once the temps had dropped into the eighties (I'm not even going to tell you how odd it is that I find 80 degrees "cool"). Arnie wasn't with me, as he was very clean and sweet smelling following a morning bath (by a groomer, not moi), and I want to maintain his shiny coat and pleasant odor until my parents get here tomorrow. They've never met him, so I want them to meet my little Arniebear at his most beautiful. It's very strange, I know, that I care about things like this so much, that I talk about Arnie so much......but I guess you focus on that which surrounds you, and because my office is in my guest room, and Arnie is my only companion all day, HE is the furrybear on my mind.

He's sleeping right now.

I'm in jammies, typing with the computer on my lap (forgive typos, please - and this goes for future posts as well). I'm experiencing severe tendonitis in my fingers and elbows, a sign of too much climbing, too much SPORT climbing to be exact (I loathe sport climbing sometimes - that's a secret). If not too much climbing, then too much climbing without warming up properly - that's probably more accurate. And it effing sucks, but if I step back and let it go a bit, I realize that in fact, it's not so bad at all. I'm focusing on running more, on knitting more, on playing my guitar more. I'm working longer hours, even, since I no longer have to bolt at 5:01 in the name of getting in AS MANY PITCHES AS POSSIBLE before dark. Another secret: I'm loving the little break from climbing. Who knew?