GREEN

Barbie

a lot of people have some really strong opinions about Barbie, and her value as an appropriate gender model for children… I can see both sides.  my kids all wanted Barbies and I didn’t think it would make any positive impact to deny them.  it’s not like they’re guns for chrissakes.  I’ve seen them make guns out of toast, for that matter.  I didn’t want to deal with the frustration of having to dress toast fashion dolls.

my one real complaint about Barbie? they’re always fucking NAKED.  I’m so tired of picking up the hordes of naked Barbies with feral hair.  for some reason I find it really offensive.  it’s tacky.

of course I was little better as a kid.  my barbies had illicit nakey romps in my closet with the sunshine family on a regular basis.  still, MY dolls got dressed afterward.

Barbie’s a ho.

Chuang Tse: ‘Those whom heaven helps we call the sons of heaven. They do not learn this by learning. They do not work it by working. They do not reason it by using reason. To let understanding stop at what cannot be understood is a high attainment. Those who cannot do it will be destroyed on the lathe of heaven.’

  Arianrhod, celtic moon goddess

I ask a favor:  could you give me comments only, no props, from here on out (if you remember…sometimes it feels automatic)??  thanks.

NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT…

we finished our kitchen remodel a few months ago when we put in the window (my dad showed us how), but I just came across this picture I took.  the man built all the cabinets you see and put in the range hood/ehaust fan.  we’ve yet to paint, springtime, I think.  maybe a nice celedon, kind of a goldy-green, or greeny gold.  hmmmm…yes.

here’s a piccie of the new carpet, edge bound like an area rug
(and baby with complete set of hair):

here’s me first thing in the morning:

apparently five is not old enough…

before:

after:

sigh.

last night we watched Brazil
first time I’d seen it outside the theatre
my my, how timely
I hope I’m not eaten by vicious rogue paperwork

I’ve had the title song running through my head:

Brazil…
Where hearts were entertaining June
We stood beneath an amber moon
And softly murmured someday soon…
We kissed…
And clung together
Then…
Tomorrow was another day
The morning found me miles away
With still a million things to say
Now…
When twilight dims the skies above
Recalling thrills of our love
There’s one thing I’m certain of
Return…
I will…
to old…
BRAZIL.

in the middle of the night, early morning, and getting out of bed the last two days, I’ve woken myself, my own voice singing in my head:

enjoy…yourself…it’s later than you think
enjoy…yourself…it’s later than you think
the time goes by as quickly as a wink
enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself it’s later than you think!

my, how bright and merry… 
you’d think, yes?

happy valentines day

my new kettle.  I’m tired of worrying if the aluminum from my grandmother’s kettle will give me alzheimer’s.  I mean, hell, my grandmother has alzheimer’s…  it wasn’t such a big deal when I was Too Much Coffee Woman, but now I’m drinking green tea every day.  lots.

I wanted a nice japanese iron kettle, but it turns out that you’re not supposed to boil the water in them.  well what is the point of that?  I have plenty of tea pots, what I need is a kettle.  oh well.  plus, there is the aesthetic changing boats midstream factor…I have kind of a bone china/ceramic/english theme going on with me tea wear, and I don’t exactly need to start branching out.  I have six pots, twenty cups, scads of vintage linens, and I have finally found the strainers I was looking for:

I’ve been searching for this exact thing, online and irl for three years now.  finally.   I also have three of those tiered snackie plates I adore.  mmmmm…water cress sammies!

I guess it’s time for another formal tea.  it’s been long enough that I’m willing to ignore my vow of “AS GOD IS MY WITLESS, NEVER AGAIN!”

this is warrior pose:

     it is my favorite.

my next favorite is lion…envigorating, makes me feel like I could bite the head off the world, but in a good way.

it’s been an uphill yogic battle today.  due to the two year old vomitron, I couldn’t make it to 9am yoga.  after that ordeal, I figured I’d just do a tape but my two favorites are missing (likely snarfed by said vomitron to make a fort, or seat stuffed animals).  the remaining tape is for preggos, and I didn’t much like it when I was pregnant.

the man is working from home, so I can’t put the audio one on.  I guess I’ll have to wing it, which I can do just fine, but I hate having to choose my own poses, the length and the lineup.  it takes too much thought, takes away from the trance-mind that I enjoy.  oh well.  this is why I own an enya cd.  I know that sounds wonky…why couldn’t I just play the rodney yee cd then?  well, that would distract the man (player in the office), whereas enya will just compromise his productivity and put him to sleep.

don’t misunderstand me, I love enya…but it’s not corporate monkey music.

the vomitron is asleep facefirst on the carpet…gotta go make hay while the sun shines.

             Mamasay…

I was trying to share some time with the baby, you know, spiritual time, trying to, I don’t know, TEACH her something.  that’s nearly always a mistake.  I bent toward her with that well known mudra and said, namaste.  she gets it, sort of.  beautiful, transendent, but she thinks it’s mamasay (which, well, usually it IS…).  she remembers it…she keeps doing it.  oh well.  close enough.