I started out with such energy, though. Did the cookies, and the bread turned out so well; hung out a load of laundry and chatted briefly on the phone with my Bay Area friend Mark and cleaned a section of refrigerator; did litter box duty and watered the greenhouse. Got Brian's lunch and started a pot of soup cooking.

Then—maybe it was the time change and the weird light at what was supposed to be 1:30, maybe it was the cookie I tested right out of the oven, or the cup of coffee I allowed midmorning—but I crashed hard. No way was I going anywhere I didn't have to. I couldn't even walk out to dance with Lorenzo llama. Long dark afternoon on the sofa with an oddly bourgeois sequence of videotapes—Out of Africa, David Cronenberg's Spider, Breakfast at Tiffany's. OK, Spider was an anomaly. I slept through most of it. I cycled through my ugly thought rotation. Then there was nothing for it but to get moving again.

I wanted at least to photograph the blossoming Geum in the greenhouse. But the camera I held in my hand this morning was nowhere to be found this afternoon. I should have stayed put in the greenhouse, though. The penetrating heat, the cleansing scents of white sage, culinary sage, rosemary, with southernwood nicely bittering the mix. My three dwarf citrus trees are holding their own, but for how much longer? Last night the temperature dropped to 20 degrees F. outdoors, and it's likely to go lower tonight, and I left the space heater at the shop. So far, though, so good. Even the potted fig tree still stands tall in there.

Apprehension swells. It's Sunday night.

Well, but stop it.

Listen to what's going on outside.

They've put the new cows out to graze for the winter, all those desolate moos echoing up the glen. And the counterpoint—the great horned owl calling for a mate from atop her cottonwood on PJ's property next door—my favorite autumn sound, so welcome.

I'll start cataloging the books tomorrow, then. Tuesday Brian has a doctor appointment in Surprise Valley that will use up the morning, but I'll use the afternoon for the last of the little paint stuff. Wednesday morning—opening day, but only nominally—the phone company has promised to install new phone jacks so I won't have to string wires all over the place. (The only jack in the whole shop is next to the front door!)

My wasp hand is almost useful again, if still a little on the purple side.

Every night the Tarot cards bombard me with happy promises. Well, it's nearly new moon, and this little Egg will be quite the seed to plant. Hold my hand, somebody.
9:42:11 PM    comment []  trackback []  

Can't fix 'em from here. Oh well, but I do apologize.
3:11:46 PM    comment []  trackback []  

At the shop today I'll print out "signage" at the store, and then make stencils to affix to the window glass and paint over in gold. The words are ready to print. I have some work left to do on the logo. It can wait.

The house is very cold. We mostly stay upstairs in the baseboard-heated bedrooms. Lighting fires and tending them is so time-consuming, and isn't a priority and can wait until evening, if then. The sun against the windows is enough during the day, since my brother and I aren't here then.

But we won't go in to town for hours yet: We ran out of bread a couple of days ago, and even tortillas to fake it with, and so I have a sponge rising in the kitchen now, and will be putting the bread in the oven around noon, I expect. We're also out of cookies, so I'll whip up a couple dozen in the interim. They only take an hour or so.

Before or after cookies, though, we need a brief cold morning walkabout so I can remember what's really real in the world, as real as anything ever is to me. If I've remembered to bring the camera back from the shop (and I think I have), I'll upstream a little postcard later in the day.

I'm feeling good about this enterprise, and I'm so grateful to you folks for all your insights and enthusiasm and even for just reading quietly. It would be so discouraging to have to try this entirely on our own. I especially thank Russell, a painter and fellow used-media dealer I instant-message with most evenings now to brainstorm and compare notes, and Mark, who is an inexhaustible source of ideas and fraternal comfort and creative inspiration.

I suppose the sponge is about ready to become dough, so here I go. I hope your Sunday recharges your batteries.
8:52:53 AM    comment []  trackback []