Wedding ceremony photos up on Facebook. Finally!
I’m not sure how to share a large number of photos on tumblr (do you know how?). For now, they’re all on Facebook. Photo booth photos are also up. Party photos to come. If you don’t have a FB account, let me know and we’ll find another way. Love to all.
photo by Kate Harrison
{I live and write in the woods of your heart.}
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“My heart can be hard as a rock, but soft as water.” - Bob Marley. A beautiful, complicated, serious man, who from a liminal space reached the whole world. He died too, too soon. See the new Bob Marley documentary. Truly riveting.
http://www.bobmarley.com/marley_the_movie.php/
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This may sound crazy, but last week’s Community of Writers at Squaw Valley Writers Workshop was one of the best experiences of my life. Crazy because on the surface it’s just a conference and who ever has a life changing time at a conference? But the thing is I left feeling a sense of community that I had never before felt since I started writing fiction. I’d also been slumpy after not getting into grad school. Knowing that I had to workshop 2 stories, in the weeks leading up to it, I started writing seriously again, and I guess consequently taking myself seriously as a writer again. Squaw helped to propel me, then it caught me in its beak and kept flying. The result was magical. In the future, I promise I will try my damndest to keep at it, and keep on putting my work out there. Because good things happen when I do. (I’m using the word “good” in the broadest sense.) I am also getting better, never the same as a minute ago, which is important. I learned so much this week about myself as a writer and story teller, the things I care about and the things I need and want to work at. I filled an entire Moleskine with ideas about writing and life. I won’t tell you the substance now. First, process. And the substance will hopefully find its way into my fiction. I met some writers who I feel will be my friends/writing buddies forever—maybe this sounds crazy again, but I don’t care. It felt like falling in love with writing, again. And I needed that. I feel so motivated it’s not even funny.
So thank you, Squaw Valley. Thank you for taking me in, and doing me a solid. And altering my perception of what a conference can be.
These are a few photos of our house from the outside. I love the nighttime quiet and the noises of the frogs, and the shell of darkness enveloping my office/lair. From here, this place, I can write my stories. Oh, and in case you were wondering, we’re staying in Big Sur until next summer. At least.
(PS, I may keep revising this post. It is the writer in me, needing to make it better. It’s also helping me understand and appreciate the beautiful messy state I’m in.)
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Driving up the dirt road from the post office, I played this song. Blasted it. I hadn’t heard it in a while, and I spontaneously burst into tears. Now, I don’t know if that will happen to you, but it might. It is a beautiful song. When I reached our house at the top of the hill, I turned off the engine, opened the door and serenaded my husband with it—he was working in his second floor office, and walked out onto the balcony, just like Juliet. I don’t really know what the lyrics to this song mean or anything (I am a music, not lyrics person), but somehow this song reminds me of why I love things—my husband, music, whatever.
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Conchigle all’arrabbiata with lacinto kale & Anderson Valley summer solstice. (Taken with Instagram at Big Sur)
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Plain yogurt, strawberries, apple, almonds, cinnamon & cardamom (Taken with Instagram at Big Sur)
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A confession: I have not been a real writer the past two months. A real writer writes, a lot. I have been doing a lot else: traveling by land and by air (f- you, sea travel), undergoing faulty organ removal (see Instagram), getting reacquainted with my 82 year old grandmother, attending two weddings, volunteering at two “libraries” (the Henry Miller Memorial Library is not a library), crashing a third wedding as a volunteer at the Henry Miller “Library,” playing host to friends and family, sort of celebrating our one year wedding anniversary by receiving a lovely bracelet of Peruvian opal to then floating happily on a Vicodin cloud (I scheduled my organ removal for the same day and I’m not kidding that there is a romantic reason for me doing so, I just can’t tell you), going on a week-long silent meditation retreat for the first time, taking a hike (or two), learning to garden (i.e. weed—hello spring!), getting my chef on, and falling further in love with this country life, but also spending so much time reading my iphone in bed that my arms hurt, and feeling bad that I’m doing everything I want except what I really want.
Maybe tomorrow will be a good day to be a writer. It better be. I miss feeling like one. I miss writing. (Oh, this blog post is being such a tease!)
And a caption: Cabbage in Agrodolce with a French green lentil quinoa pilaf. Cabbage recipe courtesy of my culinary obsession, Canal House Cooking (Taken with Instagram).
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Frittata with kale, spinach, shiitake mushrooms, basil, feta. Redwoods reflected in my coffee cup. Eggs laid on Saturday. (Taken with Instagram at Big Sur)
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