I don't know what it is that makes me stay away from my blog for a whole three months, but whatever it was, I think it's gone now.
One factor, I think, is that I have been a contributor (albeit more of a slacker than the others) on a new website called the Rabbit Room. Why "Rabbit Room?" Go there (www.rabbitroom.com) for the logic behind the name and for lots of other reasons. The site's father (Andrew Peterson) and I have also been discussing the ins and outs of how we will eventually, hopefully sooner than later, be able to post some of my artworks for sale in the Rabbit Room store. I'll keep you informed, for sure. So all of you nice folks who have left comments on my blog, pleading with me to sell you one of my pieces (that makes me sound really arrogant), there will soon be a way. Hang with me for a bit longer, if you'd be so kind.
I'm listening to Beck's Sea Change album. It makes me sadder than I should be. "Lost Cause" is such a poignant song and so catchy (two things that don't usually go together very fluidly) -- I keep hitting the << button on my iPod.
I'm almost thirty-one. My birthday is next week. I'm afraid. What is it about that little "one" that goes after the "thirty"?? I was fine, just peachy and starry-eyed, at thirty! Then the "one" comes along and really drives the point home that there's no turning back. I keep hearing that this is going to be my year though, so I will trust the lovely fools who are telling me so. I don't mind trading my lack of pride at this time next year when absolutely nothing has shaken loose in my little life with a shred of a shimmer of hope on this end.
That was a horrific run-on sentence. Forgive me.
To catch you up on me, these days I am drinking ionized water, lots of it (www.ionizers.org). I am not crossing my legs anymore because my chiropractor told me that it stretches out one side of your body and not the other (because we all know that we have our favorite leg to cross over the other loser leg) and throws you all out of whack. I am struggling through my pilates a few times a week. I am eating lots of beets lately (roasted in the oven in foil with a sprinkle each of olive oil and kosher salt, 400F for 45 minutes). They knocked my socks off the other night when I made a salad topped with roasted baby ruby beets, blueberries, goat cheese, toasted pecans, and a homemade marmalade vinaigrette. I highly recommend this combination.
This brings me to my favorite program of late: Jamie at Home. It airs weekly on The Food Network. As the name of the show clearly states, he cooks at home, in his cozy indoor kitchen or in his blue-sky-ceiling'd outdoor one. If I could find a version of this man, unmarried, I'd be sold. In this new show of his he smokes salmon filets in a biscuit tin on his gas range. He says things like "marvelous twang" and "mister spring onion" and speaks about chilli peppers as though he is in a committed relationship with them. His adorable lisp makes me want to kiss him and keep him from embarrassing himself further. He uses his bare hands to squeeze and mush together the ingredients for a tomato, chilli, and olive salad and the oil and juices trickle seductively through his fingers. After he tastes something he creates, he does a little eye-rolling and shuffles his feet in a merry dance. Any man who has the sense and spirit to behave thus in the kitchen, well....we need to meet.
I bought lots of plants the other day (ferns, violets, mini roses) because I need green life in my house during the winter. I even bought a small bag of soil and one of grass seed too so that I can nurse some baby, bright green grass to life in my window. Teaching art is becoming second nature, and I wonder whether that's a good thing. God is smacking me around a little bit, and I wonder whether that's a bad thing.