Moments

I often find myself crying for no reason.  Not always those teary outbursts that men fear so much.  Most often they are just a couple small tears that fall behind my over sized sunglasses (so no one else sees).  I would like to think it is because I have to much emotion.  I have come to realise that I process disaster, love, commitment, and all major life moments different from others.  I find myself in this moment, a normal everyday moment, and feel nothing.  From the outside it seems normal or you look at it and think "Gee I'm glad that's not me" or "Wish that was me".  The one true thing is...  It is easier to be on the out side then feel all the emotion from the inside.  Then after  the "moment" has passed and I find myself alone I cry..  Or, on my way to work and see a double amputee running and training for a marathon and CRY!  I often wish I could reel in these crying situations and be un-flappable, but why? 

Moments from Everynone on Vimeo.

Antiques.... on Craigslist?

There is was moving through my daily ritual of memorizing the listings of value or interest on my local Craigslist when I see at the bottom of a post "more great items listed in Antiques Category".  WHAT THE HELL?  Craigslist has an antiques category?!?!  How did I not notice this!  I had assumed that for the last 2-3 years I was missing out on those "great finds" and "cool old stuff" cause I was not checking early enough in the day or I just wasn't clicking on the right listings.  (I maintain a policy of only clicking on listings with images... Come on even the worst technophobe has a cell phone with a digital camera!)  I have even sold oldish looking items on Craiglist and totally sold them for cheap!!  Most likely I lost good $$$$ cause I listed them in the regular furniture category!  And here I thought my life sucked because I don't own a pickup truck and a warehouse to repaint my Craigslist finds!  In reality I was truly missing out because I yet to discovery the antiques section.  Look at this great listing for this cute settee!

I have already emailed about this SUPER old listing and alas it has long since been sold for a whopping $50!  And I had such dreams of recovering it  like these beautiful settees at Squint.  I guess better luck next time.

Small stumble

We oftern get lost on the web.  Clicking here and clicking there.  Often I find things that inspire me to create.  This simple video did just that.  Check it out!

Cours Toujours - animation short film from Cours Toujours Team on Vimeo.

a thing for words

You know you have a thing for words when snippets of well-said everyday language hang in your head for days. Let me explain with an example.
Saturday, Ben and I had the best of mini-road trips up the Beartooth Highway to Cooke City. Although Ben drives the winding highway at least 6 times a summer, I don't usually make the trip on my own. We packed a fly rod, a picnic and brought the dogs. I love fishing Soda Butte Creek outside Cooke. It's a cold, cold high-mountain creek that's as clear to the bottom as any aquarium, and you can watch fish dart up from the bottom to take your fly at the surface. Still I miss fish, somehow.
While I was casting, I heard Ben say, "We're into 'em now." I looked up and he was holding an agate that was about the size of a kid's tennis shoe. The jagged, clear rock was the second giant agate Ben has found in a week. The earlier one, a rounded stone about the size of a small loaf of bread, we found on the Yellowstone (photos unavailable due to technical difficulties/disabilities)
I thought the phrase "We're into them now" such an odd observation but fitting, too. It's something Ben says all the time on the river when he really starts catching fish.
I'm searching for an opportunity to use "into 'em now" in my daily discourse. But there's only a few opportunities to really "get into 'em"

Summer Slowdown

The other day I happened to notice that the days are getting shorter here in Red Lodge. They once stretched until 9:30 p.m. or later. Now, sunset is happening closer to 8 p.m. On the 45th parallel, and at more than 5,500 feet in elevation, summers here are short, and so precious are these warm, long days that locals seem to go crazy in an attempt to fit all their summertime activities into this brief window.
I admit, I am among them.

Last Tuesday I had a plan: work, then get to the mountains for a quick hike with the dogs and home again in time for Shakespeare in the Parks. But something happened, and I'm glad it did. As I walked, I noticed the heavy smell of pine duff, soaked by a brief thundershower. I noticed the stream alongside the trail washing over its banks, the wildflowers starting to fade, moose tracks, and mating butterflies. And with each observation, my efficient pace slowed. I walked on and on, arriving back at my car hours later as the light was fading.

I would have liked to have seen A Midsummer Night's Dream performed in the park near my house, but nothing could have compared to the wonder and contentment I felt when I slowed down and enjoyed my hike.

Knitting... A life changed.

I have a few things that mark my life…. My nephew being born, learning to ride a bike, and sometimes sad things like my grandfather passing away.  One of those markers for me was learning to knit.  I know, I know, knitting right?  Little nerdy, but it kinda changed my life.  It gave me an opportunity to find a path to zen.  Sometimes a day can’t pass unless I knit.  In the beginning I had a couple inspirations to learn to knit.  My grandma was an accomplished knitter.  

 Here is a picture of her “trying” to teach me how to knit.

Sadly I was unfocused and had to many things going on.  Plus Red Heart acrylic yarn was not enticing enough to draw me in.  A number of years later I stumbled across an amazing hobby shop that had an enticing yarn room with complimentary knitting classes.  I would hover but never join the classes.  One day as I was hovering I found this magazine...

Sadly Adorn is now no longer in print, yet I snagged this copy.  Mostly I was inspired by what I saw in the magazine, but also this page made me want to knit…  Really want to knit…

I wanted to make that bag!  I bought yarn and joined the free knitting class.  Turns out I was a natural knitter.  It has been down hill since then.  Nearly three years later all I want to do is knit!  I will kit things that never see the light of day!  And my yarn stash grows weekly.  All of my closest friends and family have been knitted something special by me.  Here are some of my projects that did meet the light of day.  Funny thing is though... I never knit that little handbag.  I have the pattern.  My goodness it was a fun to find that!  I had to email the former editor of the magazine to find out that it was in One Skein pattern book page number 47.  I have the yarn, but still have not done it.  Maybe that will be my next project?

Love...

Love is a quantifiable thing or is it? We as kids stretch our arms as far apart as we possible can then say “I love you this MUCH”. In that simple illustration we in our pure and simple childlike minds feel we know how much love we can contain. I even as an adult had a primitive view of love, until my younger sister got pregnant. I watched her belly grow and her life change. I had opinions and feelings about how her life would be after the baby came. Not once did I ever think that her pregnancy would change me and my view of love. She worked daily all the way up to one week before she gave birth. I remember that phone call, “the baby was on the way”. I rushed to the hospital, cursing at the slow moving traffic. The moment Desmond Allen was born I saw a beautiful boy and watched my lil’ sis become a mom. That precious package wrapped in a blue blanket was placed in my arms I looked in to the face of a newborn and felt an entirely new and amazing love that brings me to my knees. I was blessed enough to made an auntie not once but four times so far. Still to this day I miss my niece and three nephews all too much. Yet holding my lil’ sister’s hand as she gave birth was more than I can simply describe.  Love....   Regina

Desmond Allen, 3 years old snorkeling in a wading pool in Grandma's back yard.