I can’t bring myself to write a blog entry. I sift through the ideas in my head, I’ve got plenty, but none of them seem good enough, inspiring enough. Or is it just that it seems like too much work and I’m tired? Or is it that I’m predicting defeat. That is, thinking of a first sentence and then, scared of not coming up with a second, just deciding that it’s no use. Or am I just lazy?

It really just came to me. Honesty. Just now as I whinged away. It’s an issue of space. I don’t feel like I have the space in my head. Work is taking up a lot right now…Life in the cube. Toss in some worry. And the life-in-vibrant-colors activity of raising a toddler.

In an ideal world writing -- doing -- wouldn't be dependant on mood, on energy, on my little tiny feelings. I've spent a lot of time fretting over my consistency, or lack there of, of production. Because lack of product can equal lack of value. And lack of value equals waste of time. And waste of time puts me that much farther from what I want. Who I think I am.

So this minute, right now, that cheesy song pops in my mind. "Turn, Turn, Turn." I hated that song as a kid. I don't like the refrain. "Turn, turn, turn." It's sort of spooky. Turn, Turn, Turn. I can say I've been doing a lot of thinking. Turn, turn, turn. So that's something.

in defense of self help books...

Well, I really should just come out with it. I'm trying to generate money with my mind. Or, to be more specific, my perception of reality. It's a long story, one that can be explained in this book.

I'm a book person, and it's never been a big leap to self-helpy books. Maybe I should be ashamed, embarassed, for having a long list of self-helpy books under my belt. (Saying "self help-y" seems to take the edge off, somehow.) Only one, this one, actually brought me to tears and was banned from the house. (I broke down when thinking I'd never even manage to develop the first habit, let alone the other six...) I've read a bunch of them ranging from a book that encouraged me to view my negative thoughts as gremlins to the ever-eye-roll-eliciting "The Artist's Way". And, you know what? If any one approaches me with a new way of thinking or looking at the world, well, I'll listen to that too. Anyways. There. I've outed myself as an occasional self help book reader.

So I'm trying to generate money with my mind. Not all the time. I'm not sitting around obsessing about it. But I'm putting some energy in to it. About as much energy as it takes to keep my teeth clean.

About a week after I started I recieved a $50.00 check in the mail from someone with whom I have not spoken in, probably 10 years. (It's not a long story, but I won't tell it anyway.) I immediately decided not to cash the check, because it seemed weird. This person was, more or less, paying me for doing something any decent person would've done. But then a friend pointed out that I'd been working on generating money. And to say no to it, once generated, made zero sense. And that made a lot of sense. A tremendous amount of sense.

So started saying yes to a lot of things, recently, that I would usually say no to. Stupid things. Silly things. Like "Want a candy bar?" or "Can I do that for you?" And it's interesting. Because life gets a little easier when you start taking people up on their offers. And then I found out about this website. It's a blog by a woman who is asking for something every day for 365 days. I like that. I like it a lot. I'm gonna ride the offer train for a while. Then I'm gonna start asking.

isn't it just that way

Doesn't it just make sense that I start a blog, send everyone to it, and then get overwhelmed by work and life and don't have any time to update it? It's that dark shadow that comes after you make a decision, take a risk, step toward something you want. I've seen it so often, it's almost like an old friend. Obstacles. They are a sign that good is just around the corner.

So I wanted to say that. And I wanted to make a quick plug for the butt end of bread. So neglected, so underloved, so....abandoned. Everyone, or just anyone who wants to, should go out of their way to eat the butt end of their bread loaf today. Pick it first. Make it feel special.

eh...pickles....

RT is obsessed with making pickles these days. Or pickling. He started another batch of pickles last night while I made zucchini bread and Addie "helped". RT says she helps like a cat. Anyways, if it's not pickled pickles it's pickled carrots (these I will eat, and they are good), pickled peppers (for real), and two failed attempts at Kimchi. He googled last night, to try to find the cause of his pickling obsession and his craving for vinegar. He learned that it was a pre-menstrual thing. Very interesting. Oh, he also learned it could be because his body is too alkaline. Which it could be now that he's glutonium free. It also has to do with insulin and sugar....and RT's never liked sweets.

Anyways, the pickles look dang pretty in jars and he's developing a little cult following. I think people befriending me just for a shot at his pickles. Wait. That doesn't sound right...

damnit janet

Really good art. I'm grateful for it. I'm opinionated about it (although my opinion can be easily swayed by a good argument). It's what makes me happy. It helps me be brave. And so I'm always looking for really great artists, balls-out people, people who see the world differently, people who do what they do because they are the only ones who can do it. People who create without worrying about what's considered good or valuable or worthy.

And I love collaboration. It warms my heart. It makes me smile. It's good stuff.

So I was happy today to stumble across this article on how the Rocky Horror Picture Show turned into a phenomena. It's a fun read and I love the part about the guy who stubbornly put newspaper over his head every filming for three weekends until the idea finally caught on. I like the image of this guy with a paper over his head and his friends making fun of him. And now it's one of the more popular things to do when you see Rocky Horror. There you go. Persistence can pay off.

phobia

Lots of people dream about losing their teeth. I wouldn't call that a phobia so much as a collective-unconscious-fear-thing.

Well, just to be clear, that's not what I'm talking about here. What I'm talking about is a phobia. Or just a fallacious way of thinking. I don't know. I'm thinking too hard.

Here's the story. One night I parked my car on my friend's farm in Michigan. I left the window down. It was a warm night. Balmy. I had a beer, hung out, then it was time to go home. Well, driving back to my place I became consumed by the idea that a raccoon had climbed in the window, fallen asleep in the back seat, and was, as I drove, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. I kept turning around, searching for the critter in the pitch black, waving my hands around in the air, all the while, bracing myself for the moment he bit.

Crazy, right?

Well, that raccoon has become a little bit of a symbol for me. A symbol of all the stifling things I let myself believe, all the things I let cloud my enjoyment of this long, pleasant ride home we call life.

So here's to getting rid of the non-existant raccoons in the car. (And hats that make you look like a turkey...)

pop up pancakes and last night's beer can

Well, I was partly inspired to start a blog because I enjoy reading them so much. Blogs like this one or this one are just two that I love. There are a ton more,and I like skipping across them, link to link, like a virtual wandering. Inevitably I end up finding something really good, or interesting, or inspiring. And I always notice the photos are gorgeous – showing art and home in its finest light.

Well, I was jumping around and found this recipe for Pop Up Pancakes here . I made them for the kid that following Saturday along with strawberries and raspberries (that we picked this summer!) I simmered in a little sauce pan with some water and sugar. Dang, they looked pretty, and tasted even better. As a homage to the blogs I love, I show the “blog” photo above… This was a dish I fixed up and took across the street to our neighbor because the kid and I had eaten our fill.

But, because our house is always teetering on this side of chaos, I feel it's important to take a real picture, too. Because life ain’t always as pretty as it is in blogland. (It's a shame about the teletubbie. He was so young.....)