Relatively Wordless Wednesday

I know that I’ve been selfishly silent in the comment world and that may continue for the next little bit but I’ve decided to try and be a tad more mature and up front about that and call it what it is. Self-centered. Right now, my world is all about me. Around here we’re turned inward as careers transition and change, as we try to steal away for a bit of fly fishing in the mountains we hope to call home in the not so distant future, and as I work to create something that feels, to me, like art. Several times in my life I’ve had windows open onto paths I’ve been compelled to follow and I think I might be looking at one of those now, so I’m putting most of my energy there, come what may.

In the meantime, I think about you: panning for gold, talking baby talk, settling into California coastal life, bracing for the empty nest, the next tropical storm, the beginning of the school year…and I feel so fortunate that you are in my life, in this world.

Last night I dreamed that I flew West to take care of someone’s children while they had to be away. There were eleven (count ‘em!) and I was extremely anxious about how I would possibly keep track of them all and live up to the responsibility. In this dream the oldest were girls and young women who clued me in and helped me manage. The youngest was a darling little preschool boy and we had a very reasonable discussion about why it wasn’t a good idea to drink a lot of soda pop. We went to the beach and I was surprised that all was running smoothly and everyone was happy and content and I thought, “Wow! Who would have thought that things could go so right if you just sort of let life unfold?” It was like a big leap of faith thing. And then I found an Auk covered with oil on the beach and I knew the bird had to be cleaned up and cared for before he could swim again so I wrapped him in my sweater and we all went back to the house and the children watched a Christmas movie while I started meticulously cleaning each feather, every little zipper closing on every single feather. And then the children began to sing Christmas carols. Silly dream, yes?

I’ll tell you something good

Evening! Back from a lovely and restorative weekend on the shore of Lake Michigan with my very best friends and lots of images. But first: Abby heard from Misha. He is well and safe and scheduled to fly home Wednesday, much to their mutual relief. St. Petersburg really is his home now but I can only imagine the layers of conflict and worry that he has about Russia, his parents and his grandmother. I look forward to seeing both of them relatively soon but I have no immediate plans to fly south. I am watching the weather maps as Hurricane Fay makes her way north and my neighbors keep a close eye on things at the bungalow.

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Hi. My name is Vicki and I’m a fiberholic…

The icing on the cake for our women’s weekend was the annual Michigan Fiber Arts Festival being held a short 20 miles away at the Allegan County Fair Grounds. For four days we enjoyed perfect August weather, time on the beach, time fondling wool and admiring sheep.

(This beauty was a grand champion, producing some of the most delicious wool imaginable. Cleaned and carded, the angel soft roving sold for 3.00 an ounce. And we bought some.)

(Building after building, hundreds of vendors- home spinners, fiber artists, cottage industries- displayed their beautiful products. It was terrifyingly tempting for those of us who knit, spin, weave and felt.)

(Considering some handpainted homespun. We went together on enough for two sweaters and then spent considerable time back at the cottage winding it into balls.)

(A Russian woman was sitting in her booth knitting this beautiful mohair lace.)

(I didn’t buy this colorful hat but I did want a picture of it since I am beginning to make hats with one of my friends, a professional costumer. We spent part of the weekend mulling over the construction of bishop’s hats from the Renaissance era. They didn’t look anything like this.)

(Audrey and I have been talking about buying an alpaca or two to keep at her farm and use for fiber, so we spent some time educating ourselves on the ins and outs of alpaca farming. Mostly, it confirmed what we already knew: beautiful breeding females like this championship mother and her  6 week old cria are way, way out of our league, with prices often reaching more than 30,000.)

(Instead, we seriously considered Tiny, an unusually small male, not really destined to be a herdsire, but a great producer with lots of soft fiber with a nice crimp. Here he is humming at Audrey.)

(Back at the cottage, it was fine dining around the clock)

(The cottage is small so three of us slept in my tent, with wonderful cool breezes and a full moon.)

And how was your weekend?

Tell me something good

That song was spinning in my head all through last night after the DJ played it at our annual zoo volunteer party and many of us danced like the silly ladies we can be. Lincoln Park Zoo-the only free and privately supported zoo in North America- runs at the behest of benefactors and volunteers and it always makes me smile to see so many wonderful people gathered together to cheer each other on in our efforts. Last night we had a couple of volunteers who were honored for 35 (THIRTY-FIVE) years of service and then the one who is well into her nineties got up and danced. Another of my docent friends in her nineties will be doing the Hancock Hustle in a few weeks- the annual race up ninety four floors of steps to the top of the John Hancock Building- and then she’s on to the Senior Olympics. I wonder if the Chinese in those games only look like they are 60?

TOO MUCH BACKGROUND NOISE

In any case, at somewhere around half the age, this summer has worn me out. Wende had commented that the shoe photo in the last post was so evocative. Well, the pile of shoes changed, rearranged, had additions (Lego Bionicles doing battle in them) and subtractions, but the past few weeks I would say the definite theme around here is lots of shoes by the doors. Monday evening was the first time in a month the house wasn’t full of charming guests and I came home from the zoo and collapsed. For the most part, company is good fun but we have some MAJOR LIFE ISSUES going on here, at the two year anniversary of our move to Chicago. I’m not at liberty yet to discuss much but suffice it to say it’s been hard to catch up with Rich, as our life plans change almost daily, when he’s been in and out of town and there are all those shoes by the door. All I have to say is that my BCBS better stay in effect long enough for me to get my mammogram and bone scan the beginning of September. Well, that’s not all I have to say. I have long involved and heated discussions in my head at night, mostly in French, while “Tell Me Something Good” hums in the background. When I should be sleeping.

(Yes, we had youngsters here, too. Say! Don’t you think McCloud is looking svelte? I have him on a radical dietary course that involves no gluten and no carbs- in other words, raw protein with vitamins. This is per the Big Cat keeper at the zoo after it looked like McCloud was headed precipitously for feline diabetes. So, like any BIG cat, he’s now eating as nature intended and thriving, while losing 2 pounds in a month. He still weighs in at 21.2# but he’s no Princess Chunk. In this photo, he’s trying to decide if eau de adolescent shoe leather will work in a pinch.)

And then there was the night last week in L.A. when the band was mobbed by ten sheriff’s department cars and all those officers with weapons drawn. That happened when someone’s son, who shall remain nameless here if not in the L.A.Times, found himself locked out of the friend’s house where they were crashing after their show at 3 am. He decided to try a window at the back and an enthusiastic member of the neighborhood watch started to yell. The neighbor wouldn’t let him explain that he was from Ann Arbor, where musicians always forget keys and such and just climb in windows with abandon and soon, everyone was outside, on the ground, face down in their skivvies. No charges for wrong doing but a short and somewhat alarming night. That made the paper, along with a great review of their show. The great reviews do continue-take this one for example: And if the spotlight shone the hardest on one person, it was baritone saxophonist Dan Bennett, who took the most solos and whose blowing felt like it might take the roof off the venue. They’ll be dragging off tour in just a few days (Keri! Kathy! they’re in your neck of the woods tomorrow night and next!) and then have a chance to breathe deeply for a bit as they see what develops as a result of this best tour ever.

I rarely write about my lovely stepdaughters, not wanting to violate their privacy. (Obviously, it’s my God-given right to violate Dan and Abby’s privacy.) But here’s a hug, a kiss and a nod to the one who celebrates today one year of hard work: hard on a daily basis, and working on a daily basis, to overcome a very difficult personal challenge. Her father and I are hugely proud of her.

Bud is heading off to the hospital in Marquette tomorrow for a complete shakedown. He’s got some issues with his aortic valve and decisions need to be made about the best course of action there. Also, he’s having some issues with his stoma. Bud gave up his bladder to cancer about 40 years ago and back then they didn’t rebuild the bladder- you just got an ostomy bag to collect urine. Isn’t he amazing? Still flinging around the dock and climbing on the roof to tear off three layers of shingles? (Get DOWN, Bud…). Anyway, even with meticulous care I suspect there’s a lifetime dose of adhesive that he has far exceeded and his skin is having some breakdown issues that are aggravated by the sting of diabetic urine. I’m hoping they can come up with something creative there that still gives him room to tear around as he does. Bud and I have a trip planned to Massachusetts mid-September to visit my brother Bruce and it coincides nicely with lobster season so I need Bud to be in good form for the trip.

Our biggest worry these past days- one that has really sort of rendered me silent beyond asking people if they need more towels or food? Misha. As I wrote in my last post, Misha had just gotten his green card following the immigration interview and he headed off for Russia. He had been saving money for a year in hopes that he would have this opportunity to go and visit his grandmother and parents one more time before he reached the cutoff date (early this September) when the Russian army would pluck him up at customs, green card or no, and ship him off to parts unknown for mandatory military service that is so brutal that Amnesty International is actively involved. Young Russian recruits are starved, beaten, commit suicide and are otherwise treated as hostages by their own government.

And so, in my last post Abby was visiting friends and family here in the Midwest and Misha was visiting his in the south of Russia down by the Black Sea, near the Georgian border. The first few days they were able to talk via a phone card and the internet but since the recent fighting and bombing over there, Abby can’t reach him. He’s due to return soon and the two of them start classes at USF the end of this month- but no news is bad news. Please say a little prayer or cast some of your good karma in their direction. Young love shouldn’t suffer these kinds of worries.

(For those of you who have linked here with Saturday shopping challenge, I thank you! I’m still doing Saturday 20.00 shopping challenge, too, but in the face of insecurity, I’m spending all my money on flowers. I know: you wish you had my 1974 shorts and zoo hat style.)

I’m heading off on retreat for a few days. It’s not only that I can’t stand life all unsettled and worrisome; I need a break from people. The Blue Angels started their fly-bys this morning for the annual airshow this weekend and I can’t think. They buzz directly over the tomatoes on the balcony. What better time to head over to the Lake Michigan dunes and skinny dip under the full moon with that wonderful group of women known as BCMA? They don’t count as people; they are my soul sisters and if I don’t want to talk for four days it will be fine with them. Of course, one glass of wine and one beach bonfire and I’ll be ready to pour my heart out and laugh about it all. While I am there, Rich will visit with our daughter in Ann Arbor and the cats will cower under the bed. Full report and photos upon my return.

(I fear the bombers and jets of the airshow will shake all my tomatoes loose. Actually, this balcony scene is a good paradigm for my life right now. Have you ever seen such a mess? Not enough room to grow, not enough light to grow, everything all tangled and precariously staked against disaster, and yet- we’re getting more than we need and they are delicious. I have two heirlooms, one a purple roma that is over the top great and the usual bazillion sweet cherries. three plants total.)

Stacked up like cord wood

I think I’m probably too old to have children, especially 9 or 10 of them, for more than a couple days.Nevertheless, it was a wonderful weekend. NOMO moved through town as part of their 40 city tour. They’ve been up to Canada, down the east coast through Boston,  New York, D.C., Chapel Hill, across to Texas. Dan jumped the tour for two days late last week to fly back to Michigan to take part in a new young composers competition in Detroit and then his sister drove him back here early Saturday morning to pick up with the tour again.

That’s right- his sister. Abby had just successfully been through Misha’s immigration interview with him last week and armed with his green card, he’s free to travel to visit his grandmother and parents and extended family back in Russia for one last time before school starts up for them in August so Abby is taking this opportunity to visit her family, too. She had flown to Ann Arbor on Thursday and so, by mid-morning Saturday I had Abby, two of her high school friends and Dan- but Dan rushed off for the sound check for the afternoon concert at Wicker Park Festival.

I love listening to this band play. They’re just SO good and it’s wonderful watching the band progress with each CD release and tour. Now NOMO has more than just a following; they have a name recognized in music circles. Since the tour began- and with the great reviews- the band has made it into the top five on iTunes twice. It’s pretty common for them to do a live set at the local NPR or jazz music station as they pass through towns along the tour. Lots of times, when I hear them live, I want to nudge someone in the enthusiastic crowd around me and say, “You have no idea how far he’s come from when I sent him to the garage to practice…” Abby says it’s bad enough that I dance without talking to people. She stands far away from me so as to not be associated by accident.

(Dan finds it too hot to tour with hair- rubbing his head reminds me of the first ten months.)

After the concert, every one piled back here for a home cooked meal. There went the Saturday market photos. Two chickens, two loaves of bread, two dozen ear of corn, potatoes, tomatoes, lettuce, cheeses-it was all good. A couple of them crashed instantly never to be seen until morning and the rest catnapped just long enough to get up a second wind and go out until four in the morning-to the local pool hall, late shows of The Dark Knight and, in Dan’s case, a run and then a swim in Lake Michigan. Of course, the mother in me was worried about him being carried off by a seiche in the dark…  We woke up when we heard noise in the wee hours and I went down, saw a bunch of sleeping bodies, locked the doors and went back to bed. A short while later we heard more noise. I had accidentally locked out the last couple of stragglers.

(McCloud would like to go out.)

(You can’t see the two sharing the double bed behind the door.)

(There was a person sleeping on that sofa a minute ago…)

730 was rise and shine with waffles, fruit and bacon for the whole crowd- they had to be in Omaha last night for a show before moving on to Denver, Las Vegas and the west coast. I also packed sandwich wraps and lunch stuff for the entire band and repaired a pair of jeans for the drummer. Halfway through the tour they’re tired and needed a bit of home patching, laundry, clean towels. I love it when they do come and stay- this band has a wonderful personality as a whole and all of the parts- well, they are just exceptional young people. And funny.

The entire band of eight travels, with ALL of their equipment, in a single van. The band packing goes something like a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle with only one solution and they have it down pat, with clothing inside drums, headsets draped over hand straps, cymbals under the seats. We couldn’t believe it, but it goes fairly quickly with everyone putting their personal gear in in sequence. And then they’re off.

(Ingrid, on trumpet, jumped tour here in Chicago to go study music in Africa for a couple weeks. That means there was room for the sandwiches and juice I packed.)

Abby and her two friends drove back to Ann Arbor midday- that was too quick, but I was pretty much done with kids by then anyway. She’ll come back alone sometime in the next week to spend a little quality time with her mum.

This morning, while the band was packing up, this was playing on NPRs Weekend Edition. I would love it if you would go and listen because it’s the best way to hear a bit of the music and know what the band is all about. I’m proud.