martini break

oy. been so busy lately. just not a lot of opportunity to sit down and write anything remotely interesting. so instead, i give you this cartoon which, in light of my recent post on coffee, made me guffaw so loudly, the dust bunnies in my apartment went all atwitter. not away, unfortunately, just all atwitter.

a body story...beautiful.

i came across this woman, arla patch, when i was perusing the Omega Institute catalogue my neighbor s. left at my doorstep with a little plate of brownies "from scratch." (god love her.)

http://www.arlapatch.com/

i'd been debating whether or not i should attend the SARK workshop in october and now see this as a sign that i should (thanks, s!). however, when i came upon arla's workshop my jaw just about hit my keyboard with shock, awe, and utter admiration.

THIS IS MIRACULOUS STUFF.

A Body Story: A Workshop for Women

Using our own silhouettes, we work on a life-sized "map" of ourselves honoring its history, redefining areas, creating peace, and in the process, reclaiming our body anew. This gives us a chance to gain greater body awareness and reverence for the lives we've led. Using movement, guided imagery, art, writing, and silence, we seek those parts in our bodies in need of celebration and transformation.

Patch uses her own story of healing to address the mind-body connection. She uses visualization for physical transformation and tapping the connection to our source as an avenue to break the patterns lodged in our bodies. And finally, by fusing with nature, we heal the stories in our lives.

The workshop concludes with each woman being given a photographed image of herself, with the chance to speak about the reframing for which this image becomes a talisman.

so upset i can't attend. i'll be vacationing in seattle/portland and attending my cousin e's wedding where i foresee that i will, cocktail in hand, be answering endless questions about whether or not i've "met my prince" or "snagged myself a fella."

no, actually, i've been busy snagging myself a life.

anyway, arla's work is absolutely exquisite. funny - somewhat similar to what we did to create the body forms for size ate, but i adore and get giddy with the anticipation of decorating and detailing my shape - broad shouldered and tapered waist.

i think a bluebird belongs on my shoulder, don't you?

hands

i

don't

know

what

to

write

so

i

will

write

this:

gardenias

and blue satin sashes

and the way my knuckles

resemble my long-dead mother's

when i grip my coffee cup -

a steaming steaming steaming ghost.

these things

are

reason

enough

to not

feel

alone

today.

call

tomorrow

and

i may be

weeping blue

but

today

my

knuckles

whistle

and

call

me

"Hon."

and yet, miraculously, i have no transfats.

a conversation i had at the Xerox machine on friday afternoon:

"you smell like a candybar."

i suppose there are worse things i could smell like.

he walks away. i walk away and take a seat at my desk. suddenly, from across the room, over the heads of more than a few co-workers, he shouts,

"Butterfinger! you smell like a Butterfinger!"

bloody saturday

my manicure/pedicure set: industrial strength

for a sweet little story about getting a mani/pedi with my friend jack while discussing the making of size ate, click here.

and yes, they really did slice into my big toe. eh...i'm used to it. bloodshed is far more common when they have to use a cleaver on your callouses.

i need a hobby.

i think this guy sat behind me on the bus in high school.

there's something very satisfying about popping a zit, isn't there? you've been productive...in a way.

3 (more) reasons to love paula deen

"that's elbow-lickin' good."

1. Collard Green Pizza
2. Fried Biscuits
3. Turducken

happy (belated) voluptuous tuesday...

yeah. this was just getting annoying.

...because tuesday's not fat, shes' just big-boned.

ba dah bum ching.

in honor of mardi gras...oh, okay, mardi gras had nothing to do with it, but the two just happened to happily coincide...

i gave away my TV.

wooo hooo!

frankly, i didn't even watch that much, but i just felt it was taking up way to much physical and psychic space in my little pad. i found i'd come home, flip it on "for company," toss my beleaguered body onto the couch, and POOF! before i knew it, it'd be midnight, i'd half-heartedly done 8 million things, sortof watched 5 television programs that i could not answer a single question about if someone asked me, and eaten through an entire bag of baby carrots, 1/2 wheel of Roquefort cheese, 12 chocolate kisses and one generous glass (or more) of vino.

let me demonstrate what happens in my brain when i get home and encounter an evening avec Le TV:

i've got to get all of this done! i want to read this book, bake this cake, write this letter, burn this cd, knit this teapot cozy, call this grandma, but i have to watch this movie, this sitcom, this documentary, this news program, and this talk show.

you see my problem.

i am not going to become one of those hardcore tube-haters, or one of those who wear their TV-lessness like a Girl Scout badge. i think television serves its purpose if you're one of those people who can manage your TV and not let it manage you. i am not. mine straps me to the couch and forcefeeds me Big Macs and SUVs and self-hatred in the form of emaciated actresses with hair that bounces and boobs that don't. for me, for now, television encourages unconscious action, and i am trying to invite more consciousness into my life. i want to be present and aware of what i'm doing and being and feeling.

even if that feeling is pissed because i'm missing Paula Deen.