We don’t have places like this in Boston.

This is what I remember form my dream the other night. I was standing on a bridge with a few people fishing on either side pulling up colorful fish after fish. The sky was grey and purple… the trees were that bright green of early summer. And the buildings around us, we were in a city where white and grey… old and stained. But the colors of the fish, and turquoise water and the trees were so saturated. I thought we don’t have anything like this in Boston. And that’s all that I remember!...

But I was painting this at the time I had the dream and I think it influenced my landscape.



The words were peacock, tent, stormy, drinking, and glamour.

Things I like about this piece:

That middle tree, the expression on the peacock with its head down, the color of the sky.

Things I don’t like about this piece:

Her mouth, the rainbow quality to the color, I should have made the tent darker or lighter.

Now I have start my Christmas card. Which is scaring my right now. I have some ideas but nothing solid yet. In a fit of despair I looked for inspiration in the one place I knew would enchant me. My big book of Jim Henson. Somewhere in the middle there are pictures of the Jim Henson Christmas cards through the years. Many simple, others elegant, others warm. 20 years from now I want to have a collection of card half so impressive. Which means I have to get started on this. Sigh… why is it so hard to get started?

Oh blank page I’m coming for you.

Taken away....

The other day I was in a used book store. One of those stores that specializes in old books, you know the type of store, they all have that smell… the smell of the past. It’s dust, and damp, age and secrets… the smell of tombs and treasure. These are dreams hidden away in labyrinth of shelves.

And on the counter, a book, an afterthought, waiting to be put away… was book that caught my eye. “Cape Cod Folk – A Novel” It was a book about a trial, set down the cape, written in the late 1800’s. It held no desire for me… this was not a book I’d read.

But for a moment it took me away. And I thought of my dad. I would have bought this for him for Christmas. I could see it all… the stocking with the book nestled snugly inside the title peeking out, with a pair of warm black gloves beside it.

Suddenly it was Christmas, at the old house, the house I grew up in. There was never such a house as this for Christmas. The house was built for Christmas. The fireplace with the window above the mantle. So you can watch the snow and the fire at the same time. There was an alcove to the side of the fireplace, where we’d put the tree. We used to cut our own trees and they were widely regarded as sparse, “Charlie Brown” Trees. They were big wide natural trees deep with hollows for hiding away ornaments, toys and candy.

And suddenly I was happy to be thinking about my dad, and Christmas. I felt so warm and happy, and lucky. Lucky to have such memories, lucky to have seen something that reminded me of my father… just lucky.

This feels interesting...

Do you want to know why yoga is such a humbling experience?

Because it’s widely acknowledged that two of the toughest poses are Savasana and Tadasana. For those of you not familiar with yoga speak that’s laying on your back and standing up strait. Getting the full benefits of these poses is tough. Mmm hmm. This is humbling stuff.

Right… I had yoga yesterday. It was the usual. I worked really hard, had a few moments when I started to beg to come out of position and laughed when someone said they couldn’t feel something in their hamstrings.

I can always feel something in my hamstrings. My hamstrings are so tight, I chronically worry about them during class. Not so much “Will I be able to stretch them enough…” I won’t but more like “Is that sharp shooting pain actually something tearing? Is that normal? Should I be on the verge of tears? Collapse?” And it’s always the hamstrings, or my hips, or sometimes my back. But the most excruciating pain is in the hamstrings. And we use them for almost every pose.

We did have one pose that we held for a little over five minutes. Sphinx pose. It doesn’t involve your hamstrings. It’s a small back bend. But after about 2 minutes I started to burn a little… after 3 I hurt… after 4 I began talking myself into coming out of the pose. And somewhere around five I began begging and bargaining in my mind to for the love of god let us out of the pose. When we finally came down I almost cried with joy. My arms and shoulders were aching. Our teacher tells us to think about the sensations we feel and notice if any are interesting. That’s her word for painful.

As in “Ah this root canal feels interesting.”

Mmm hmm. Sadist.

Fear and yoga in Jamaica Plain...

So yoga… one of the healthiest things that has ever happened to me. Yoga has given me strength, balance, confidence, calm, acceptance… forgiveness and most importantly humility.

Before practicing yoga, I was terrified of yoga. I’m not a fit person, I’m not a flexible person. I’m not a person comfortable in tight pants and tank tops. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I would advance, I wouldn’t balance. Each pose would be to difficult. Each position would roll my flab into new exotic shapes. This was my fear.

I have a co-worker… Soap Opera Shane. (SOS) who lives in JP and practices yoga. Just like me. It was my cronic fear that I would see SOS in my yoga class. That one day he would show up. He’d been doing yoga for years. This would be the worst case scenario.

The first day went to yoga and was asked to go into downward dog… something kinking terribly in my shoulder. It was freakish. It was my body’s way of freaking out. And my mind followed. I sat down and tried not to cry. When the teacher came over to ask what was wrong all of the self doubt bubbled out of me and I left the class… It was just that scary. The next week I decided to face my fears, decided my shoulder spasm was just freakish, and I would try again. This time in the most beginner class of all. I loved it.

I’ve come a long way since those first classes. I’m actually starting appreciate my body’s abilities instead of focusing on it’s flaws. Although I still focus on the flaws too much. I’ve come to love difficult poses that I have yet to master. I’ve come to enjoy breathing.

Last week I came into yoga and was talking about our office Diwali Party. All of a sudden I hear “Kate”. I turned with a complete lake of focus. I never thought about the voice or who it might be… I turned and smiled and saw Soap Opera Shane. We’ll blow me over with a feather. Just when I thought I’d lost my fear of yoga. I smiled and commented that he missed our Diwali and went to set up my mat with that shocked smile frozen on my face.

Panic intensified as I realized the only open space was somewhat across the room from him. We’d have to see each other twisting, contorting, practicing yoga… I steeled myself and said… it’s okay. You’re doing fine. You are doing the best you can do, and your improving. This is going to be fun. Think of the stories you’ll have to tell in work. You’ll do fine. And then he moved his mat to be on the same side as me two people down. Suddenly I was disappointed. I wouldn’t have moved. I would have gotten over it. It’s yoga, its about focus. But this way I watched him without him noticing me. I watched the teacher correct him. Watched his handstand, his downward dog, his lunges, Warrior one, Upward Dog… And he was very good. He’d been doing it for years.

After class he asked me how I liked it. I stared blankly at him wondering what he could possibly mean by that. How did I like practicing yoga with a coworker? How did I like yoga?

The class? He clarified.

Oh right, the class, it’s been great I said, really great, I’ve been coming here Tuesdays and Thursdays for 4 months.

He looked surprised. Really?

Sure.

You must have been surprised to see me! He joked.

I smiled. Right. I was surprised to see him and I was glad that it happened. I wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. And I had a great story to tell my co-workes.

Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions

Last night I dreamt that all Long Warf had been converted into a submarine dock. And the military was sending subs in and out of the Harbor… The ferries were gone and the subs were moving so fast, too fast. I was afraid they’d crash into the docks. Sometimes they would slow down or go under and you got the feeling that they were diving under the city.

Then there was a talking cat. The cat was really a teenage boy that went missing 14 years before. He was under some sort of spell, and he needed to get back to his old apartment to find something to break the spell. So we decided to help him. There was a moment when we needed to find the key to his apartment and I knew to look in this metal mail slot for a magnetic panel that revealed a key. We walked up two tall flights for stairs, sneaking quietly into his apartment.

It was this amazing loft apartment build into a church. How I didn’t realize it was church before was beyond me. It was beautiful. His parents had died when he was 15 some sort of accident. And that’s when I did the math, this cat disappeared about 15 years ago when he was about 16 he’d be about my age. Hmmm… this could be interesting.

And then I woke up.



I did this drawing a few weeks ago. The words were genie, tropical, restaurant, dreaming, and believe it or not lamp. This is what I came up with. I wanted there to be a difference in color between dream in reality… of course the dream is in a little more in the real colors, and the reality is very dreamlike in color.

I miss my readers...

What do I expect after not blogging for years. I pick it up again and I don't have any readers. I never had many readers. But I always had a few. It gave me someone to write to. Right now this feels so lonely.

But maybe thats good.

Maybe I should always have kept this blog just for me.

Or maybe I should write as if I had thousands of readers hanging on very word I post. Well, they'd be sadly dissapointed.

Maybe I shouldn't think of it at all.

I should post about my ideas for Zelda Zap galactic space girl. Or the book Fran and I never wrote, about the Rabbit whose heart flies away...

I'm going to try to finish a picture every week. And I'll try to post that. Sometimes I won't post it. It might be a Halloween card for next year or something of that nature. But I'll try to make that a goal.

Happy Diwali

If you are a fan of the TV show The Office, you might remember the “Diwali Song”

This is sung to the tune of Adam Sandler’s Chanukah Song

The Diwali Song

It's time to celebrate Diwali
Everybody looks so jolly
But it's not Christmas, it's Diwali
The goddess of destruction, Kali
Stopped by to celebrate Diwali
Don't invite any zombies
To our celebration of Diwali
Along came Polly
To have some fun on Diwali
If you're Indian and you love to party
Have a happy happy happy happy Diwali

Happy Diwali!



That’s right everyone, it’s Diwali! The Hindu Festival of lights! The New Year!

I have two Indian co-workers who celebrate Diwali. Last year one of them was upset that no one acknowledged their favorite holiday. She was upset that she never got home for her favorite festival and wanted to share it with the office. Thus our office Diwali celebration was initiated. Last year we ordered in, and had snacks and a few decoration. It was very pleasant. Everyone had fun… it was great. And for a moment I felt like we had helped my coworker feel like her culture and customs were appreciated and important, and relevant even here in the US.

So this year I wanted to step it up a bit. We went out for lunch and I decorated the kitchen. With great hangings swaths of fabric. And I built a (I hesitate to say shrine) but I covered the hideous desk and bulletin board. There was food, snacks, sweets, piles of food. Delicious food, food I remembered from the last year. These spicy fried wheat crackers that I love. And mini samosas filled with cashews and raisins. Syrupy sweets drenched in coconut and rose flavors. And everything looked good, and tasted good.

My coworker was shocked. And while perhaps my decorations weren’t quite proper. Maybe they didn’t fit the Indian ideal. In my defense I did the best I could with my limited knowledge of Diwali. I think I accomplished my goal. Which was to try to give her a real sense of celebration… at least in its office form.

Creepy Tree...

I think the words for this picture were: Mountain, Fairy, Tree, Holding and Love/Hate Relationship.

I drew this a while back and on Hadley’s suggestion I decided to go color. It’s the sketch book she gave me about a year and a half ago, and I decided to go with watercolor on it’s drawing paper. So the paper doesn’t exactly hold up to watercolor. But I like the effect. In fact I’m working on a series of images in this sketchbook. I just need to make time to do that.

Is there a story? I don’t know. I guess the tree loves the fairy, she wants to get the hell away from the tree and it all happened in the fall. Because I like red and yellow and orange. I do find the tree incredibly creepy.

I notice I keep to this same weird pastel color scheme. I have to work on breaking out of that. And not relying on yellow to balance things or to make me happy.

The phoenix...

So the phoenix rose up from the ashes on All Hallows Eve and flew throught the night.

I mean, this was my Halloween costume, the pictures don't do it justice. It looked great. The mailman told me so this morning.