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Lee’s transformed ashes arrived at the funeral home this week and since the director there had never heard of this way to handle remains, he took a look. We all agreed in his office that these were quite nice. He helped put them into my car because the box was heavy and it occurred to me when I saw them on the back seat that it was exactly where Lee sat on his last ride in my car…from one care home to another. It was nice having him back there again.

Sliding the box open there was a large muslin bag and small ones for “sharing”.

A large plastic bag of sixty assorted sized stones.

The process is mixing ashes with porcelain or something similar to then make the stones.

They range in size from a bit over 1″ to 2.5″. Nice sizes for tucking in.  The texturing of divots was a nice touch. Speaking of which, they feel very nice in the hand. I put one in a bowl he turned, two little ones in a large bowl with other stones and references to stones. I did this because it holds, among other things,  stories in tiny stone sized books made by his favorite students who came to the house for private workshops…two to five days, where he did all the cooking for us and made parts for our art projects in his shop. He would love being with them again.

I put another in the liquor cabinet in one of the drinks glasses he made from wine bottles. It is close to a bourbon which would make him quite happy. A small one will be tucked into the back of the hot pads drawer with the last pair of kangaroo hot pads I bought him in Australia. He got a set from each trip I took because they were easy to tuck into luggage at the souvenirs shop.

He would have picked up a stone like this to bring home for me to sit with others we collected. Now Amy and Patrick are planning all the places to put his stones where they have fond memories important to where they grew up and their dad’s involvement in a particular community. Patrick will keep some in his work shop so Lee is there and as usual covered in sawdust.

I want to talk his friend that always came over to fix things and keep Lee laughing at silly jokes into to keeping one. I think Lee would love being in that friend’s toolbox to keep on listening. Speaking of men who work with their hands, I showed the stones to a couple of guys who put my floor in last week and returned to do some touch ups. They were completely impressed with the idea and after a bit of hesitation, they each handled some. They laughed and thought of what their wives and kids would do with their stones as they rubbed their hands on them. Lee would have enjoyed that other working men handled his stones.

And this past week saw another Tasmanian Basket Gathering. So I worked along with them from here by drawing one of the necklaces that my good friend Jude makes while she sits with the rest making baskets.

By now some of my Australian students have gathered at Halls Gap in the Grampians Range to get busy with their workshops I no longer teach. I hope they continue the routine of calling me to share not only what they have done all week but also the things they are working on in the house we always rented together. They are so talented. I miss them. My home has a good amount of their gifts and work sent over the years. And my last stitching project I worked on with them hangs high in the living room over wood block prints of men in the aging process.

What follows is the longest poem I have ever written but I woke up one morning this week with a need to get it all down. I read it at the poetry meeting yesterday and received wonderful comments on their returned copies.

My Room                       S. Webster

 

It is the right size to move around in.

Easy to access the spaces of daily life.

But the best part, the very best part

are the doors with hard-to-turn knobs.

 

They require a bit of wrenching.

But only after considerable thought as to why,

why do I need to get in?

 

I have built a sort of Memory Palace.

You know, the way to remember

before letters printed on pages.

 

Every day I stand in the large open space

or sit in a comfortable chair.

And decide which door to open.

 

Do I want to go through the one on the left

nearest the window?

Childhood rushes about in here.

Riding bikes, jumping rope,

checking my Babe Ruth watch to see

if it is time to head home for dinner

after stuffing the wrapper of a Tootsie Roll

into a pocket full of the day’s collection

nestled in pocket lint.

 

I will skip the next door

of adolescence and teenager.

It holds all the pressures

of trying  to find myself

in a world of expectations.

Being lost amid roads to everywhere.

 

My hand reaches for the door

of fresh motherhood,

of painting walls with favorite stories,

pushing marigold seeds

into dirt-filled egg cartons,

tossing snowsuits on floors

so small arms and legs can wriggle

into place as they lay down on top –

and try to get back up. Smiles.

 

No, not today

 

I move on to the next

and think how much this interior space

resembles a small town roadside motel.

Behind every door

Is someone else’s unfolding story.

 

If I open this door it is like a

Cabinet of Curiosities.

Filled with objects and quickly dashed notes

of how to say in forms or on a page

all the thoughts an artist/writer cannot keep in.

Some expressions so strongly felt

they required a burial after exposure

to others outside that room.

It wore parts of me completely away

and quickens my breath with the memory.

 

There is a door to the parting of ways.

The natural way of life, and choices being made

to keep a life simpler

by learning to say good-bye.

A favorite shawl hangs just inside,

held together with patches

of what was happening.

 

There is a new door that opens

into mostly empty shelves

where I store the dreams I can recall.

The ones that wake me up with lost passions.

Like the one this morning of me

and a tall, thin man in black who never

returned my gaze because the air around us

was so charged with feeling.

 

I asked my doctor recently if those who die

in their sleep could have been reacting to a dream.

We looked hard at each other and agreed

no one ever came back to tell us.

 

So here I am.

Making more space for me,

Rearranging the furniture in this room

surrounded by doors,

Keeping a path open

between access and closure.

 

So I will leave it here and go do something exciting before the next blog. Probably finish assembling the Scrabble story. Maybe sew something, maybe draw, maybe just talk to the cats or take myself out to dinner. Maybe bake something that makes the house smell wonderful….maybe a lot of things….

Til then…

This last week was spent keeping ahead of the floor crew. Such a fantastic job to get it all done in three days! All I had to do was empty whatever needed to be moved and get it put back to make room for the next pile.

Tearing up the old floor.

New dining room floor.

Emptying out bookshelves in den and studio was the worst part.

I made it to movie night with my leftover pizza and a complimentary glass of wine as soon as the job was finished and paid for. And now it looks like this in every single room. Even the studio where I am now, had some shelf rearranging to make more sense how I now use it.

This morning’s breakfast while doing laundry.

So now laundry put away. Lunch of yogurt, pretzels and peanuts. And my longest poem to date…two pages both sides. Here are the first two stanzas.

My Room                       S. Webster

 

It is the right size to move around in.

Easy to access the spaces of daily life.

But the best part, the very best part

are the doors with hard-to-turn knobs.

 

They require a bit of wrenching.

But only after considerable thought as to why,

why do I need to get in?

 

The other day at the poetry meeting, I read the one titled Breathing that I shared here recently. Several asked if they could keep the copy they were reading along with. Never had that asked before. So it resonated with them, which is a good thing.

I did get Scrabble all laid out with text and illustrations. Now just need to design the cover.

Tonight we set the clocks ahead. Daylight savings time again. My phone and Fitbit do it on their own but that clock on the stove and the one in the car wait for me to handle it.

I agreed to be a presenter for a writer’s conference coming up soon. With getting into publications, writing from prompts, being accepted in the literary world meaning absolutely nothing to me, I wondered why they asked. I am to do a presentation on self-publishing. I think I know which direction I will take my talk. And I hope there is not too much disappointment that it won’t come with step by step instructions.

There is a children’s charity locally where I can donate artworks and some of my books with an original drawing from the story enclosed. I might put a couple of the Eucalyptus leaf imprinted pages with interspersed drawings/paintings in a book form…especially the Fairy Book. I wonder if I need to make up a story to go along with the drawings or just let people make up their own as they turn the pages.

For now it is either do more writing or find a movie and a glass of wine.

Til later…

Monday morning the floor installers arrive with my new floor boards. The necessary quarter round (shoe molding) is all painted and waiting in the garage. Tomorrow I will move all things that I would rather they not wonder what to do with it, to safe and temporary spaces. As soon as a section of the floor goes in, they will move furniture back and I can replace whatever was there before. Simple, yes? I will need their help getting things off top shelves, but feel confident I  can sort the rest. No point in accepting extra help because that would just be more bodies and directions. I am planning on this studio being the last room to be shoved about.

In the meantime I thought I needed a rice cooker.

Just thought it would be a good idea. NOT! I am sure it is just one faulty appliance but the first attempt burned very badly and the second try with using another safe, recommended amount of rice and water resulted in it blurping out the steam hole and all over the counter. So back to Amazon. I will stay with the familiar pan on the stove method.

I think the story Scrabble the rat is mostly finished. It will be the same size as Burke and Wills. Some illustrations might fall a bit short of my expectations, but that is easily remedied by doing them over…again and again. Here is what I think will be the cover drawing and another from the story.

As you can tell by this next picture that I still try to get my Tuesdays in at the bar. Back to writing about Joey the librarian. It is like he is sitting there with me having a bit of pizza. This one is their Fungus one. Very good!

I am glad to see February over. Even though it snagged an extra day this year. I always thought it the most obstinate of all the months. It elbows its way in only to fling about extremes in weather conditions, and thinks because some idiot put Valentine Day in the middle of it, that all is okay. It’s not okay. It is a month of high hopes peppered with low expectations. It exaggerates each and every mood we get stuck with. I bet if there was a survey, people drink more alcohol in February and smile less. Now that March finally arrived, I have put a smile on my  face and swear that Spring is in the air.

Last week I saw the most amazing flock of red-winged blackbirds landing in the neighborhood. Up high, they looked like a swallows’ murmuration. The flashes or red and yellow wings in the sunlight was hard to capture with my IPhone. Speaking of my phone, the other day the remote for my TV simply refused to turn it on. So I used the button on the TV, but to no avail because the remote still would not make selections. So I googled the problem, did what it suggested…all three solutions and then called the TV people. They took me through the same solutions and came to the conclusion that the remote no longer works. I needed to order a new one. I asked how I could watch TV then. The nice lady took me through all the steps to make my IPhone a remote.

I am amazed that I could follow all her instructions and get an app on my phone for the TV to now have a separate remote until the mailman brings a new one.

There is not much else new. I feel distracted until the floor gets put in and everything is back where it belongs.

I have decided that I will clean out my garage this spring and give away more art supplies and things no longer needed. Funny how we think that “Surely, I will use that again” is just not being realistic. The two main reasons for getting rid of things is,

A. It is too hard and heavy to handle and

B. Those things we thought were necessary are no longer the tools we need for self expression.

Another thing I will do is go through my closet and pull out some of the clothes I made because I loved the cloth, and cut small swatches from them to add to the small scraps that are irresistible when a needle is threaded. I am giving myself over to the gentle arts of writing, stitching and drawing. All of them are wonderfully solitary and a pleasure to be involved with.

I did go with a friend to an art exhibit at a local college recently. The artist is a songwriter and performer as well. The characters in his paintings had a folk art quality and were reminiscent of Beavis and Butthead. I might be getting too old, but will certainly go to another one when it happens.

Okay, there is nothing else….it will be another week before I’m able to get to another blog.

Til then….

This past week I decided to stop waiting for the decision to be made as to when and if I get the necessary new flooring. The builder is waiting for the flooring company to be found liable for costs and I found myself just waiting. So, I decided to just pay for all of it, new and better flooring, and the labor getting it put down. Whenever the settlement comes through, they can reimburse some or all of my expenses. And with the decision made, new flooring is coming in later this week and hopefully being laid the following week. I will have to stay with the workers and empty the furniture that has to be moved, find a surface to put it on and then replace it all as each section of floor is finished to the point of getting the furniture back in place. I have photographed each piece that will require a heck of a lot of work! Like this:

Just the upper part of my liquor cabinet…down below are serving pieces and wines, etc. No flooring laborer can be expected to empty this and then get it all put back correctly.

And this! One wall in my studio. Each shelf has to be labeled as to where it goes back together because these all come apart to be moved and although each piece is similar, that does not mean they will fit….so I intend to label each and every one of them. The easier I can make this on the laborers and myself, the better. Sadie is holding down just one corner of my work table.

Quite an adventure that should be over in a couple of weeks.

I have a new cleaning lady who does the most amazing deep clean. After seven straight hours this past week, she agreed to return for four hours each month. She brings all her own tools and cleaning supplies. She even washed a few windows that she felt needed cleaning. I am lucky I found her, and am very happy she agreed to do my house.

The other day while meeting someone for lunch in town, I noticed this wall by the local hardware store. I found it beautiful and plan to do a walk around town when the weather is nicer to find other beauty in the ordinary.

I need to take a walk to the river but since they now mow the meadow down to just an inch or so, it is not so magical. No pretty weeds and flowers, no insects, no birds wandering about…nothing but dead grass between here and the river. A bit boring.

I missed my Manhattan time at the local bar last week because I had to meet up with an old friend from out west who is in the area teaching. A very good catch up over pizza and wine. Last night I cooked a less-than-very good meal for friends…burned garlic toast, rather stiff pasta with doctored up marinara, and a salad wilted in the fridge because it was left too long with its dressing tossed in. They kindly called it “wilted” lettuce salad and ate it all. We topped it off with store-bought biscotti and more red wine that they brought along. A good four hours of visiting.

Looking for interesting patterns, I shot this view by the front door.

Sadie spent the day in the sun today while I finished off a friend’s debut novel…a good page turner of art and murder in a small Appalachian town by Bradley Wilson.

Today I ordered a small rice cooker to help me make something different from heating up frozen pizzas and cooking eggs with spinach. Beans and rice for a change sounds good. In the meantime I am stuck finishing off last nights pot of leftover pasta with meatballs and doctored marinara.

Maybe pour myself a single malt and find some British program while sitting with my cats.

Til later…..