The Moon Is The Spoon Of The Sea!

I have a new blog

2006-09-26T12:54:00.000-07:00

Hi all I have a new blog. It's not as colorful or picturesque, but I'm working on it. Go to:

http://stlouisblogs.org/spoonofthesea

Pip Pip Blogger!

Do red and yellow make orange or hurried hunger?

2006-09-20T11:47:00.000-07:00

Do red and yellow make orange or hurried hunger?
The other day I was looking around at the walls in my office thinking about how color affects mood. I don't think I would have given it too much thought, but I too was baffled when a coworker asked me why I have littered my desk with every color of post-it-note Office Depot offers. It was a subconscious venture, and when she pointed it out I spent the rest of my break exploring my obsession with multi-colored post-it-notes. Verdict: I had not littered...I had strategically placed blank, multi colored post-it-notes around my office to combat the fact that the teaupeish/purple walls make me feel blahzay. See, my favorite color is green, and wouldn't you know, most other rooms in this office have at least one green wall! No worries. Perhaps it's for the best. Green walls may have given me the illusion that I was a wildcat crouching in tall grass FAR too much incentive to pounce and kill an unsuspecting coworker (I assure you, additional incentive is unnecessary). Kidding, but I do have one coworker that posts quotes like I post post-its, and that makes me crouch and growl.
I was once told that marketers found that bright red increases hunger and bright yellow the instinct to rush, which is why McDonald's chose red and yellow for their franchise. Not sure if it's true---surly don't doubt it. But would such tactics work? I mean, do people respond to colors similarly? Maybe to some degree. I guess there are cultural color connotations to factor in, and shade-and-hue issues to consider. BUT, do certain colors like bright red REALLY raise blood pressure as some suggest? Who knows? Sight may be like our sense of smell; certain smells calm one person and nauseate another. Where as, other smells, like road kill, are universally repulsive.
I think it's interesting that Americans associate black with death whereas whiteÃ’s is globally the most prominent color for it. Hummm? Black is associated with death in America, but I don't think a sleek, black sushi bar would dissuade any death-fearing American-unless they hate raw fish. Must be context, or the fact each color here has a gazillion associations attached to it.
Maybe, some cultures are more sensitive to color associations than we are in America? My brother, Worku, told me that people don't wear the color purple in Ethiopia cause it represents sadness, and seeing people wear it took some getting used to. On a more intense level, I was shocked to learn that one of my fiends teaching in Korea was addressed by her superior for using a red marker on the white dry-erase board. They informed her that the color red on white had a strong negative associations. It got me thinking if there are any color combinations that bother me? I couldn't think of any. Actually, I would love to have my cones saturated with as much color as possible. Aah(The sound when you change your mine NOT the sound you make with an epiphany) Sometimes, like when I'm reading, I want to see the world in Sepia, you know, so that even the pages of NEW books look like tarnished manuscripts. And who doesn'tdesire a good black and white day when it's raining so you can wear a long detective trench coat stalking leads on your latest case? I do.

Note to self: ugly walls are perhaps necessary to maintain office serenity.
Multi-colored post-it-note to self: I don't like office serenity.

This website is technically for website design, but has a minimalist chart explaining cultural associations with specific color...I dug it.
http://psychology.wichita.edu/optimalweb/international.htm

Mother of Pearl

2006-09-07T12:19:00.000-07:00

Mother of Pearl

As a child my mother and I were pipers on a rocky moor, draping songs over stone before the tide pulled his cover over the shore.
We sat on beds of moss quietly waiting to see if the process was gentle, if there would be a wake to the sleep.
The tide tucked the shore into an ebbing rest, sculpting sand like a father smoothing a child's brow on his breast.
Wind, wife of Tide, sang a lullaby of waves to Shore: “Be still tonight you’ll gather stones, tomorrow breath.”
I watched mom, as she began learning the gentleness she never knew. The sun, slipping away like a Nanny walking light from the room.
In the faint light, I met my eyes in my mother's.
She would stay, absorbing all she’d seen, releasing me to fly down the coast free-a dream. I Ran
Quickly
without a backwards glance.
But now, as a woman, I’m drawn to where she memorized the sea.
The tide seemed smaller now,
The current weaker.
The sand squeaked a cry as I walked its shore.
And I wonder, how many hourglasses filled? How much sand was swept awaiting my return?
Sick from longing, I searched for footprints long since drifted. Scanned the horizon for my mother. Before I turned to go, my eyes met a wall of shells piled high faintly shining though their dust.
I dug.
Cutting myself on the broken shards, I knew it was there I would find her. Waiting.
My mother
Buried pearl.

Movie Tag

2006-08-14T12:31:00.000-07:00

1) What is a movie that changed the way you think and act? Or just got you thinking, if the first question is too intimidating.

I think ALL movies change the way I act at least for a little while…cause at least for the first few hours after you see a movie you have a compulsion to “be” one of the characters…at least I do.
“The Color Purple,” got me really into African American History, which influenced what kind of classes I took in college and what kind of living environments I chose.
“1984,” made me paranoid in a very…check-the-closets-and-behind-the-mirrors. It also fueled a love for dystopia movies and books.
“Pieces of April,” encouraged me to process though family dynamics in a new and very helpful way.

2) It's a late autumn evening and rainy and cold? What do you have for dinner/snack?

"Little Women" (for the movie-not for my snack) Foods…I think I would want: quail, dry red wine, good bread and cheeses…and for dessert a macchiato (it’s an espresso so dark and rich that you feel like your drinking delicious mud, but the best part about it is that it is covered with a cap of foam that reminds me of the bubbly stuff that you find around ponds…pond foam?) and a big obscurely shaped hunk of dark chocolate to gnaw.

3) You are off to wee Himalayan hamlet for a year, your laptop hard drive can hold one film. What will it be?

"Pride and Prejudice," The 1996 BBC rendition! It’s timeless, plus, with that much time to kill why not memorize some stellar dialogue?

4) What movie made you laugh the hardest? What movie made you cry?

I laughed so hard at “Life is Illuminated” I thought I was going to have to stop the movie. Oh and “Meet the Parents”.

I cry easily during movies. I mean, my first movie ever was a tear jerker. It was ET. First of all, I was crying cause I was terrified to be looking at a gigantic-glowy-fingered alien. And gad-zooks, by the time I had cozied up to ET I was crying that he had to go back to outer space. Other sad ones were “Dancer in the Dark” and “Stand by Me”.

5) Favorite actor (female, male)?

Emma Thomson, Franka Potente, Moritz Bleibtreu. I especially like when Franka and Moritz are in movies together like “Run Lola Run” and “The Princess and the Warrior”.

6) What book or story would you like to see made into a film or what book do you love that could never be made into a film?

Dostoevsky’s “The Brother’s Karamazov,”: the beauty of the book is that it allows you to explore the intricate workings of each characters psyches while moving fluidly from one character’s vantage point to another. I think the fluidity would be difficult to achieve. I think that even the best cinematographers struggle to seamlessly shift from one vantage point to another. Plus the book is a book of philosophies colliding and it may lend itself to too many voice-overs.

7) What is a movie that immediately after you watched it? Clockwork Orange.

8) Do you read movie reviews? Before, after, never? Whose reviews do you find the best? Are you an analyzer?

Usually never. I’m real critical of most “real” critics.

9) What movie do you think is a must see, but that you can only recommend with caveats?

The “Red,” “White,” and “Blue” trilogy: It is beautifully crafted and a great look into French culture post Camus and Sartre, but it’s a bit racy at points.
“Donnie Darko”: It’s a bit dark.

10) What movie do you most wish to share with your friends?

“Life is Illuminated,”: Laughter is a beautiful thing to share.
“Down by Law,” Tom Waits under the direction of Jim Jarmusch! Need I say more?
Oh and...any movie ending with a “men” or “man”: Batman, Spiderman, X-men, Little Women.

Playing Book Tag

2006-08-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

1.One book that changed your life: The Brothers’ Karamazov by Dostoevsky.

2.One book that you’ve read more than once: Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott.

3.One book you’d want on a desert island: A Boy Scout’s guide to Wilderness Survival AND The Complete Shakespeare Anthology, so I can memorize if and do plays with the island animals.

4.One book that made you laugh: Naked by David Sedaris

5.One book that made you cry: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by Clive Staples Lewis.

6.One book you wish you had written: The Encyclopedia! Lit wise, Catcher in the Rye.

7.One book that you wish had never been written: The Gnostic Gospels

8.One book you are currently reading: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson.

9.One book you’ve been meaning to read: The book my dad's writing called Mongo…I just never tell him I want the chapters he’s finished.

10.Now tag five people: I don’t know how to “tag people” I’ve always been horrible at tag, cause I was always “IT” and I would get bored and turn it into a self-deprecating game of Hide-and-Seek! I guess I would tag...Jacob (hubby), Becky (mamma), Dan (Papa), and my blood family, but they are not really into blogging, so I guess that’ll do.

NO TAG BACKS!

Death be not proud...my God gardens well.

2006-07-24T13:46:00.000-07:00

"DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so, For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow, Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee, Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee doe goe, Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie. Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell, And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well, And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then; One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die."
John Donne(1572-1631)

This week has been a series of difficult events heaping themselves on me until I was buried deep in what felt like a suffocating death. Technically, last week was when the life began shoveling on the heaviness. The week ended with a beautiful wedding, which usually bring me heaps of joy, but, upon arriving home, you would have thought the wedding had been a funeral. Jacob was half heat-stroked on our couch with his head in his hands. Evidently, while he and his cousin were on the road the car died. Not like, “opps the battery died,” but like “Heidi, even the mechanic doesn’t think the car’s worth ressurecting”. With this in mind, we chose to deal with the car dilemma after going to the reception…perhaps it would lift our spirits. Happily, it was a delightful time with square dancing and great food. After the festivities Jacob, Laura, and I drove out to the car and spent our time telling stories in the glow of the car light…the thing is…although car lights are enchanting and produce a wonderful story-telling atmosphere...they are draining to the car battery. As a result, in a matter of minutes, we had become, 3 worn out souls, 2 dead cars on the side of the highway, and one very confused AAA tow-truck guy. I’m pretty sure he thought Laura and I were crazy, because, by the time he got there, we had been adorning each other with weeds while waltzing along the interstate. Then evening ended, and the by the next morning we were blessed with a car from our brother Worku. I DO see the car as a blessing, but it was a tad bit of a bugger to realize it had to be “roll-started”. The process entailed Jacob steering the car while I pushed it with all my might. Hey, I wasn’t complaining, but after the third roll start, our Flintstone technique had lost it’s charm. However, Jacob, got a new battery (after getting stranded the next day) and things were looking up. With the car working, I stocked our fridge with perishable items, anticipating the arrival of my dear friend Rachel from Michigan. Rachel and I had four whole days to spend with each other before she and her husband moved to Korea for two years! I was so excited to forget about the week’s problems and enjoy every moment with her! The thing is, when she arrived she was in a lot of pain from a tender spot under her arm and heat rash, so the first day she had to rest and was conked out from the antihistamine I gave her. As if things couldn’t get worse, the next day, the spot under her arm had swollen to the circumstance of a softball, and on her request, I rushed her to the emergency room. Once the doctor saw her, she was admitted to the hospital with the understanding that she would need treatment immediately and be stuck there 4-7 days! Bye bye to all our plans! My heart was aching because she was hurting, plus she was doped up on pain killers so quality time became more quantity time...and I do mean quanity because when the hospital’s power went out, you notice how LOOOOONG a day is. There she was, sweating it out in luke warm hospital to the hum of St. Louis residents asking for ice. I was just about at my breaking point when I learned that my power had also gone out, and the fully stocked fridge had gobbled all my groceries for itself! It was at that point…in the darkness of that night...that the final nail had been driven into my coffen and I, overwhelmed with grief, and frustration I curled up on my bed and wept. I wept like I wept when I learned about my grandfather died and the farm was being sold. I wept so hard I couldn’t breathe. I wept so long that I was exhausted, and I knew I needed to escape or I was going to pass out. Usually, my means of escape are dancing or singing…praying would have been a good idea, but that was not going to happen because I was too angry. I thought over my options and realized, life felt too heavy for dancing …singing took too much energy…and eventually I grabbed my headphones and pressed play. Silly me…I was hoping to hear something a bit percussive and angry, but the CD I thought was in had been switched out with one I had found under my dresser earlier that day. God's intentional ways...I assure you! What happened next was amazing…the song in the CD player was one I hadn’t listened to in years; I don’t even remember who sings it. But the lyrics were like water to my buried soul. They were these: “Oh my baby when you’re crying never hide your face from me. I have come with light to set you free”…light had so much more meaning when the powers out…so now I was REALLY listening…“Worry not my daughter. Worry not my son. When life don’t seem worth living come to Jesus, let him hold you in his arms.” It was amazing because there I was in the dark, wanting nothing more than light and comfort, God brought light and comfort. Curled up in a ball, salty from tears, I had this image of myself all knotted up like a flower bulb (you know how they are a knot of roots all bound up in that shell thing). Then I imagined God placing me deep in to the darkness of the dirt. In the heaviness he showered his song over me. And as I was lying dormant under an undeniable heaviness, He was weeding the garden above me. Then, in his perfect timing, He lovingly put his hands down unraveling my roots pulling me long and green the Son’s light. He had grown me! I thought I was dying from being buried alive under the burden of life’s catastrophes. I had given up…all to realize that he had not been buried me, He had planted me, tended me, loved me! To this I say Thank you Jesus! You are the most beautiful gardener! And later that night while Jacob I were reading John Donne’s Death Be Not Proud, I thought to my self…"that’s right Death…don’t be proud…my God pulls life from death"...Then, I rolled over, blew out the candle, stretched out my sweaty arms like dew covered leaves, and drifted into much needed sleep.

I am Half of My Mother's Egg

2006-07-07T12:34:00.000-07:00

When God was knitting my sister, Heather, in my mother’s womb, he was also knitting me…I am a twin. Pretty nifty NOW, but as a child, my sister and I didn’t know we were twins until, Sister Mary Etta, a nun that taught us how to read, confessed that she knew something about us that we didn’t...Which was, as you know, that we were in fact born on the same day from the same belly? Upon the discovery of such heinousness, Heather came home immediately informing my mother about the situation! Needless to say, mom wasn't shocked, but Heather and I were beside ourselves with a “Hail Mary what did we do to deserve this” feeling! Since then, we have learned that twinship is much more a blessing than a punishment. Hum…although…(doing my best Freud face)…dressing the same everyday for many years could have contributed to why I had my share of visits to psychologists. Speaking of psychologists: They-who are, by the way, usually not twins-will tell you that in every set of twins there is a dominate one and recessive one. I’m not so sure what that means, but if that’s true, Heather, would have been considered the dominate twin, and I would have been the recessive. By this I mean, she usually tried things before I did, was more “grown-up”. She seemed to exude a sort of “leave it to me to get you out of this one” attitude. Where as I was more the kid licking the flag pole in the winter to entertain friends at recess. We were both really into different types of crowds but did overlap in athletics because we often played different postions or did different events. All in all, Heather was your all American girl and enjoyed things like being voted Homecoming Queen and student of the month in computer class. I was, well, not sure about America, and did not enjoy such things as being voted “most likely to get a sex change”. I shared the vote with this guy Tim that looked a lot like a pubescent Freddie Mercury. But all youthful mortification aside, I loved that we were so different. We understood each other. We understood each other SO WELL that we, even now, don’t have to use full sentences to communicate. Instead we resort to a language of sighs, facial expressions, giggles, and sobbing sounds (oh my the joy of subtext). A typical conversation may be a jumble of …I know…you don’t have to say it…sigh...grin…sob…no way...grin...sob...etc. But being a twin had its Twilight Zone moments too! For example, Heather got this dog when I was away at college. He was a bit vicious and protective of her. Well, when I visited, she had stepped out for a bit, and I not knowing any of the stories of her attack dog, went to pet him. When Heather came home she started running to protect me from his viciousness. The thing is, I had been playing with him for over an hour, and the entire time he didn’t even growl at me. I though maybe the dog had turned over a new leaf, but when Jacob came out he was back to his snarl-and-bark self. The only reason Heather and I could think of…for him not hurting me…was that Heather and I have indistinguishable voices and maybe similar smells? Even, weirder than the animal connection is the sixth sense thing we have when the other twin is going through something major. Like when I was spending the night at my friend’s house I had to be rushed to the hospital to get over 30 stitches in my knee from a bike accident. Right before I fell, Heather called my friend’s house thinking I was in danger. My friend’s mom assured her that I was fine and she that she could see me playing outside. Literally minutes later, my knee had met its match with the gravel and I was rushed to emergency room for a major stitch-up. Even about a year ago when Heather got pregnant my cycle stopped completely. I had all the signs of being pregnant even feeling dizzy and nauseous in the mornings. Later that month She called to say SHE was pregnant and all my symptoms went away…INSERT ALFRED HITCHCOCKS SYRUPY VOICE AND TWILIGHT ZONE MUSIC HERE…All in all, I like being a twin. And, the most exciting thing of all is that I married into a family loaded with twins. Jacob’s mom AND sisters are twins. This means I get to have kids Noah’s Ark style, and that brings me much joy.

2006-06-26T12:29:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I had a dream that I could breathe underwater and my apartment had filled up with water like a huge aquarium. When the dream began, I was watching Jacob sleep, and bubbles began floating from his mouth. Strange considering the room looked dry, but seconds later I noticed water flowing down the bedroom walls…you know…kinda like those water walls you see in shopping malls. Well, eventually, the room was seamlessly filled with water…not even a bubble of air from the ceiling to the floor. I know it sort of sounds scary because it's hard not to get hung up on the humans-breathe-air-and-have-poor-eyesite underwater situation, BUT somehow in the dream we were able to see clearly and breathe effortlessly. SO IT WAS GREAT! I’m sure other things happed in the dream, but all I can remember was that we were swimming around like the happiest mermaid and merman one ever did see...or one ever did imagine. Anyway, the dream was really soothing, and sometimes when I’m stressed out, I think about swimming around my enviornment to alleviate stress. If you get a moment, I recommend thinking about what room or building you would want to make your own aquarium. And do share your thoughts! For those of you perplexed by the impending doom of electrical problems, pluming disasters, and or general property damage…imagine that you have the ability to aquariumize the place of your choice and the ability to snap your fingers again to turn everything back to normal...oh yeah...no electrical or sewer problems would occur.

P.S. Today, I was thinking the Sistine Chapel would be neat because you could swim up to the paintings on the ceiling, but I think I would pick either a castle (it’s doorless and the tapestries would be kinda kelpish), OR the room to the right of the entry of the City Museum (It has all these amazing mother of pearl murals and the ceiling has all this silky cloth stuff streaming down. I think that setting would create one heck of a magical swim). So, what room or building would you want to swim in?
P.S.S. The picture is of the City Museum room I was referring to. It's much more glorious in person, but you get the idea.

My Dad

2006-06-21T08:40:00.000-07:00

I had a nice chat with my dad this weekend in honor of Father’s day. I think Father’s day has always been is a bitter-sweet holiday for dad. He has been plagued by what I call the “ties and flies epidemic”. By this I mean, people, without fail, buy him neck ties, or fly fishing flies every year. The ties pile in his closet away from view---he hates ties, and he has a well founded paranoia about making himself look like he stepped out of a 70’s sitcom. And the flies, well, this is a ridiculous gift considering he has his own professional fly tying business. The epidemic is really a result of the unspoken understanding that you don’t ASK dad what he wants for Father’s day. This is cause he’s a wee bit eccentric and accident prone…a lethal combination. Not as if the tie, being much like a noose, is safe gift! The thing is, deep down my dad is a true scientist and probably would ask for: splicing tools (too sharp), explosives (self-explanatory), or camera paraphernalia (with which you run the risk of him gallivanting off to some cliff in pursuit of the perfect picture). For this reason, all his loved ones…including myself, are avid tie and fly buyers. When I say dad’s “eccentric,” I mean it! Let’s just focus on his teeth issues for a moment. About 10 years ago, my dad got his front tooth knocked out by one of our horses. With some prodding, he got a bridge thing put in. Well, a few years later, when my sister and I were presenting at a 4-H club meeting, my dad stood up, ran into a pole and knocked the fake tooth off the bridge. As mortifying as it was to have your dad nearly knocked unconscious and toothless before your peers, it was far more mortifying to walk into the kitchen with a friend to see dad melting his tooth back onto the bridge himself. He was using the kitchen stove, a soldering gun, and a paperclip. Not the best method of repair, but I will say interesting problem solving tactic. I also have memories of my dad being in the newspaper for classroom related accidents from him many years of teaching 6th, 7th, and 8th grade science. Like once, he took a big brick of some chemical and all his students to a local body of water to show dangerous it is to deal carelessness with chemicals. Noble cause, but he proved his point by dropped a chuck of the chemical in the lake which resulted in a massive fire and news coverage! My favorite of his moments had to be the stories my grandmother told me about when he got his first mini-chemistry set. The outcome was so horrific that grandma, a delightful, always-paint-the-world-rosy-kinda lady, prefaced the story with a “honey, you know grandma doesn’t like to tell that story”. I won’t go into all the details, but I will say two words…Household Damage! For all these reasons, the fly and tie epidemic is, well, still an epidemic. Perhaps this year I could send him an assortment of Pop Rocks candy? Explosive yet safe? Really, at this rate he is never going to get a gift from me.

Egg-warming Anyone?

2006-06-12T11:42:00.000-07:00

The other day I came across a quote from a Denise Levertov’s poem that struck me. Levertov said,

“Just when you seem to yourself nothing but a flimsy web of questions, you are given the questions of others to hold in the emptiness of your hands, songbird eggs that can still hatch if you keep them warm.”

I immediately stopped reading for a bout of egg warming...Meaning, I pulled Jacob from his book and asked him what question plagued him most. Unfortunately, Jacob’s question not only plagued him, but has also been plauging churches for centuries! A wee bit daunting for session #1 of intentional egg warming! Needless to say, a lengthy incubation period resulted in no major hatchings. However, the attempt to answer his question lent itself to a the reassuring truth; salvation doesn’t depend on having a demystified puzzle perfect theology! Mollified, I cozied back into Levertov. A bit later Jacob asked me what question plagued ME most. He and I discussed it and I ended up just feeling a bit blue. SO, I thought I could offer my egg up as a blog topic. My question's this: How are woman and men innately different? I mean, most women I know cry more easily then men, and I noticed woman tend to work together to build conversations (expecting input during the process), where as men tend to build their ideas independantly then display them. Not that they don't take imput, but that they like to finish their monologue before getting another's input (both methods are great...just different). Now I will say that I have read a lot of stuff on this topic and the result…I feel a bit insecure in my womaness, even though I like dresses now, and I’ve got a deep maternal instinct. All I'm saying is that-to John Eldridge’s horror-I think if I were unconstrained, I would full heartedly emulate every defender, rescuer, pursuer superhero I have ever known! Normal, maybe? Maybe that's just my sin? The point is, I am curious if you all have thought about this topic. If so, what do you think? If you want to discuss whether you think gender is a discipline that is learned and needs to be practiced…cool! If you want to discuss the breakdown of gender roles in the family…that’s cool too! Any attempt of you to warm this egg would be cherished. Men, if the image of egg warming makes you uncomfortable, remember Luke 13:31-35.

Play-World

2006-06-06T11:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday night I was reading The Silver Chair, delighting in a scene where Puddleglum, a marsh-wiggle, confronts the queen of the underworld. The queen is maliciously trying to distort reality by convincing her audience that their reality is just a silly dream. Ah but good ol’ Puddleglum retorts with, “Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things-trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies make a play-world that licks your real world hollow. That’s why I am going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t an Aslan to lead it!”

So, for my first official Blog entry, I was wondering if you would join me in a “play-world that licks the real one hollow.” In my play-world imagine you are the size of a grain of sand and that you can go anywhere and do anything. To make it more feasible, you can designate a person to cart you around to experience your salt-sized life. Would you swim in a dew filled tulip or hike the forest of a friend’s eyebrow?

Note: I spend absorbent amounts of time contemplating such things, the possibilities are endless…now explore your cerebral cortexes and see where the convolutions lead. K?

2006-06-04T19:13:00.000-07:00

This is a henna tatoo!

2006-06-04T18:51:00.000-07:00

Hello this is my new blog!