Mmm…nothing like savoring a rice krispy treat from a freshly made batch spiked with crunchy peanut butter and chocolate chips. Caught my little sister online and had a few minutes to say hello, it’s been too long. She went into details about her homemade legwarmers she wore over her converse and I wished that I could see a picture of her new hairdo she told me about. She was off to church so time was cut short, but I am obsessing over myebay so much that I wasn’t as sad as I thought I would be when parting with her. Right now I am winning a bid on “Charade” with Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. Hope I win. I have backup plans if I don’t. So many things to find…

the temperature has finally dropped and the windy weather and fast moving clouds are a sight for sore eyes. these are the days to take wonderfully long walks and hang old sweaters by the door for times when i want to run out the door and feel fresh air and blue skies underneath me. these are the days that i feel are hard earned after the summer. and the sun still shines, or it goes away, but its not there all the time for me to take for granted. added a delightful autumn book by susan branch to my amazon.com wish list, it’s so beautiful with its watercolors, recipes and celebrations of my favorite season.

thinking about getting a new guitar, saving my pennies and dreaming. listening to all the songs that i want to play and making lists. m says that he could record me, i wonder if i would? if nobody hears it i will! i am too shy in that way. only max is my allowed audience. and he is the best fan any closet singer could ask for.

part of me wants to jump into hearty autumnal food, the delicious carrot and cauliflower soy soup that tastes divine with crusty bruchetta. the mouth watery apple-pie cake that no one has ever just sorta liked, copies of the recipe are always requested. but the weather does not cooperate. it’s too hot to stand in the kitchen for too long, and summer is still lingering here for too much fill. so i settle for light pasta. and fresh fruit still serving as a great satisfaction anytime. soon enough, i say to my cookbooks and hopes for a new oven, soon enough.

the weather right now is actually perfect. cool breezes, slow moving clouds beneath the blue sky. the sunlight dappled through the overhead branches as frou frou fueled my legs on an extensive walk with max this morning. i kept collecting the prettiest of leaves and they would keep flying away, but i let them. maybe they have waited to fall as i have.

tonight i would love nothing else than to cuddle up on the couch and enjoy a low key movie night with my better half, maybe some popcorn. definetly blankets. reserving dvds at the library takes some time, but it definetly pays off.

whew. my head is spinning just trying to remember everything that i did today. i can really get lost in domestic stuff if i let it take all my time. but cleaning is so calming. and refreshing. especially when the dish rag reaches the formidable refrigerator and you come away with it sparkling clean and things all neatly stacked and where you want them. i have a little tornado of a toddler to follow all day, and a lot of the house is still crying for some love from before we moved in. i think i have done a lot since coming here, but sometimes i just want to wave a magical wand and make it all like the dollhouse i envision. *bling*

been resurrecting old favorite music lately, and found Hayden Dresser’s website yesterday, loved watching all the videos, especially the songs from the first album, which i think is still the best. modest mouse has been favored in the ipod lately too, and i still don’t know what to think about their sudden popularity. i want to find old friends who watched them in the old days at local shows and laugh about it with them.

speaking of good music, just come to this website and sit, listen and know that there probably won’t be a better soundtrack for a while. mad props to Zach Braff for having good taste in music. and i am ObSeSsed with frou frou lately. so good to paint to! and drive to. and basically anything to.

some things are best kept inside. where memories are haunting, and beautiful imagery is praised. i have reverance for my mind…its ability to both torture and please. and i have hope. that someday i will get it all figured out. or come close to it. even if it is another time, i will get it. and look back and feel flutterflys in my chest for knowing that i remained sincere in my searching, my twilight thoughts, my faith and my disheveled ways. sometimes there are no words to explain. and thats okay. it’s what my colors are for. expressing in the way i know how. i don’t know if anyone else will see them, but they are there. fragmented and expressed.

today i was glad to get out for a while behind the stroller and breathe in the fresh air and listen to my favorite serenades, pausing for an occasionally wave and hello friendly passer-by-ers. sometimes all i can do is go on a walk to clear my head and start over again when i return home, seeing in new eyes that have seen outside of my world.

the garbage car is what i call an old, beyond beat up little orange vehicle that sits in front of the blue star diner on the corner of our street, every morning and every afternoon. it is completly filled with wrappers, empty bags, and junk-all the way from the floor to the roof of the car. even the passenger seat is full. its horrific. and i thought my car was messy! it squeals past our house, everyday like clockwork, and is parked at the diner.

ever since we moved into the neighborhood last winter, i’ve loved bringing out the stroller with max and enjoying the charm here, the pocket of fresh air in newport news. and its good to get out. so, a while back max and i were on one of these outings when something very odd and frightening happened. i turned the corner and saw the garbage car, parked in front of a house with the door wide open and a stout and veiny leg with old nylons and ancient heels sticking out. i didn’t think much of it, and just realized that the mystery driver was humming, quite loudly. i tried not to stare, but starting planning a calculated but nonchalant inspection glance as i neared the car…i was dying to know who the strange driver and blue star devotee was. as i came closer, i realized that she was facing in such a way that i would have to awkwardly turn around all the way around to see her, but i knew i had to do it. i think i almost got a heart attack from the ghastly pale face that stared back at me…s-h-u-d-d-e-r. she had just begun to turn her head at the exact moment i was passing, so i didnt even have to turn around, but…the horror…i felt my heart jump into my throat and i actually gasped! i caught my breath! can you believe that? i was in broad daylight! what am i, five years old again? going on a nice walk, enjoying the day and got spooked by the garbage car driver! she was haunting alright. and whatever tune she was humming was just as freaky. i felt like i was seeing boo radley or the boogey man.

i smile to myself when i hear the garbage car whiring and whistling, and every now and then, i happen to be near a window when it comes into view, and i see the lady’s white hair or far off figure, slowly making its way into the diner. its just become a part of the atmostphere on my street, like the guy with the brown hair past his shoulders, who walks his golden retreiver to poop in tree lined island, following him with a plastic grocery bag, doggy doo-doo etiquette i suppose. or the serious cyclists that park their cars in front of our house to ride through the neighoborhood every saturday morning. i guess they park there because they are close to conte’s bike shop in case they need a tune up or something, but i quite like seeing them out my window every weekend, its flattering that they think enough of the spot to ride their bikes around till lunchtime, when they all congregate in front of our house, hollering to each other as they pack up their pricey gear into the back of their rugged jeeps. the garbage car was something that grossed me out at first, but through the summer, i grew to depend on it as the funny part of the day. especially if max and i were on the porch playing, and it went squeeling by. just to see the look on max’s face, whats that car doing?? he would ask.

the sad thing is, the garbage car needs a new name. because last week, i noticed that all of its icky contents were gone. someone finally decided to take out the trash.

there is a cricket in my bathroom. he has stayed three nights in the hospitality of our black and white tiled room. he sings, but only after everyone else is asleep, and i wonder if he is telling me to turn off my light and that i can finish reading tomorrow. girls need their sleep, he says wisely. i saw him earlier this afternoon, while i was innocently minding my own business, doing my business. and it looked like he was pacing. he went to the faucet, to the edge of the counter, and back again, over and over, like he was running a very small invisible track that only he was aware of. i was going to do something about him being there, it doesn’t seem right to have little creatures lurking around the house, especially in the privacy spots like the bathroom. are they spies? but i forgot about it, and he is there. i think i will let him stay. as long as he lets me read in peace.

the sari shop, the book i was reading a few days ago? it was a lure. one of those traps that foolish authors provide for you to fall into…the entire book was about all of the suffering that poor ramchand, the main character, went through in his poor, low life in india. through all of those pages, you turn, hoping and cheering for him, and getting excited when he begin to learn english and slowly becomes aware of his way of life, only to be dropped off in the last twenty pages of a terrible unhappy ending. and ending that harshly said that life is cruel, and that there is nothing that can be done about it. i disagree. through the whole story did we get the idea that this place, this life, the people and their ways are so broken, ragged and so absolutely unfair to women. we deserve a resolution, a fair game, a rainbow at the end of the verbal storm. if i ever write a book, remind me that no matter how violent my words get, that i make a happy ending to make up for it.

so i am already onto my next read, a pretty cover with a title that says, The Art of Mending. It’s interesting so far, but still early enough that it could turn in any direction. you never know with these fiction novels. and would be wrapped up in my robe and headed down to the glow of the open fridge for a midnight snack except that i am well beyond my grocery shopping day and there is not much in there to satisfy. i am pondering herbal tea. my resolution to stay away from sugar has caved a little here and there. and i decided as long as i am behaving at home…then i am okay with enjoying a chocolate chip cookie at a friends house. besides, there is a lot to be said about the purely social aspects that food has. we gather to eat and celebrate. i wouldn’t feel the same without that. and i don’t feel energy sapped after something simple, as long as it stays away from my cupboards where i might devour it all away on a hard day…

“She remembered, back when she was in college, a painting instructor had once confessed to her that he got a tremedous rush in working with live models. He felt as if, in painting them, he owned a portion of them, in the way some aboriginal tribes believe a photograph captures a soul. Maybe that’s what she felt now, that in painting him she might in some way own him, in a way that her conscious mind would not allow.” ~excerpt from The Last Promise, by Richard Paul Evans

i wish i were brave. i wish that i could spend evenings painting, all night, till i fell asleep on my desk or the floor or chair that i was creating in. i know that i have a two year old who loves attention and time and someone to drive little matchbox cars with…and i love to hear his miniature vioce and little chubby fingers close to me. and i feel sad thinking about the day that he won’t be by my side all the time. i will miss the little version of him dearly. but sometimes i wonder if the girl who wanted to be an artist when she grew up is already grown up and not an artist yet.

i need to be brave, but also i need to be more gentle. i need to trust that i will still be able to sneak in creations in the small cracks of the day that are free for me to escape in. i need to remember that being where i am in life as a mother is the most creative thing that i have ever done and that the canvas will still be there when i come back. the imagination is used often with max, and the experiences i have shared with him will create richer colors in anything that i make. its just that sometimes i get lonely for the artist girl that i dreamed of being, and hope that she never goes away, i hope that i can catch her and bribe her in staying while i am so busy. i hope she trusts me enough to wait, even though i don’t trust her enough to stay.