The Door to Springtime

It’s the first day of spring! How do I know this? Why, I saw it online of course. Then, I turned around and looked at the calendar on the wall behind my desk. Then I went outside and got some fresh air.

I am so happy to be in California! I like opening my front door to a covered porch, not the inside of an apartment building hallway. As a kid, I used to watch “The Odd Couple”—about two very different fellows who shared an apartment in New York City. In almost every episode, Oscar or Felix unlocked the front door of their apartment. But the front door was in a hallway! I remember wondering what it would be like to live in a place where my front door did NOT lead outside. I thought it would be sad and lonely. As it turned out it simply felt like a long, steep entryway. Still, during all those years on the East Coast, I couldn’t wait to get back to a real front door.

Now my door leads to the outside world. I’ve got a garden that’s bigger than most of the apartments I’ve rented in Harvard Square. Every morning I bring a cup of coffee outside and just take in the day. I don’t bring my cell phone or my MacBook or any other connecting device; I remain disconnected from the world long enough to be in it.  

Lately, I’ve had a lot of hummingbirds visit. I set up a little feeder and these birds love it. There is something amazing about hummingbirds: they move in what appears to be an effortless manner, almost as if they are floating. I remembered, over coffee one morning, learning in school about hummingbirds. But all I could remember with certainty was that I’d learned something amazing; I couldn’t actually recall what it was I had learned.

Here is where my time at the computer and my love for the garden can merge. I looked up hummingbirds online and found, among other details, that a hummingbird’s heart rate can reach over 1,000 beats per minute. That is what I learned in school… it was all coming back to me.  

My time online and my time outdoors, along with the distant memories of the wonder every child feels about nature, blended together today. That’s a nice way to begin a new season.

The Call

I just got a telephone call from my brother and I’m so happy!

It’s not unusual, especially with all the brothers I have. But the day is, for me anyway, special. It’s my birthday. Every year, no matter what, this one brother makes sure to call me on my birthday. And every year, I call him on his birthday. To people with normal-size families this is not spectacular, but with more than 100 foster kids growing up in one very crowded house, it’s a wonder that people remember even our names.

Paul always remembers.

I need to point out that this probably has more to do with his memory than my birthday. Paul has the closest thing to a perfect memory that I’ve ever encountered. When my family reminisces about a summer vacation we took a few decades ago, the rest of remember that it was during the summer – one summer, a while back, in the past. Paul knows the date (the year, the month, the exact dates of the vacation) and probably can recall the time we left and the weather conditions.

This year, for the first time in ages (note that generalization; Paul will know the exact number of years), I was home for Christmas. At a family gathering, I mentioned how many things about the Bay Area I had dearly missed, including driving across the Golden Gate Bridge. Corny, yes, but if you’ve ever seen you understand. Mom mentioned that, as a child, she crossed the bridge during its opening ceremonies. Paul chimed in with the date and time of the opening ceremonies, the number of people who worked on the bridge and details about its architecture. He doesn’t have a computer at hand; he just knows these things.

But, there’s a big step between knowing (remembering) and doing (calling). He calls every year. I could be anywhere and he would find me; he would call. Likewise, I have called him from across the country and across the planet, long before email was a viable alternative to calling and before any of us had cell phones. I asked him once if he ever doubted whether I would call on his birthday and he said one of the nicest things that anyone has ever said to me: “I knew you would call. You would find a pay phone in the desert to call.”

Of course, I can’t remember exactly when he said that, but I’m sure he does.

Until next time,

Conna

This is Not October

The last time I posted here, I had just wrapped up a craft fair in Boston. Today, I unpacked that missing box. It’s been two months since I’ve written. I had planned to write in October, but this is not October.

Here in California, it’s the last hour of the last day of the year. Outside I hear some preliminary fireworks as folks in the Bay Area get into the spirit of things. My Boston pals have already rung in the new year but did not forget me (it turns out text messages are good for something after all). I’ve just sent an email message to a friend in Australia; he’s practically into the second day of January now and here I am, still catching up with 2007.

Before the year ends, I am posting here to say that I will be back, in 2008, with my sarcastic commentary about all things postal. My news about “the square” will be replaced with explorations of “the village” – I’ve got a new spot from which to experience day-to-day life. I plan to get to “The City” too, and soon. Just a short drive from San Francisco, I have yet to visit all my favorite places. I guess that's what a new year is for: more time.

I think back on my resolutions, about which I wrote here 365 days ago. I resolved to hit some home runs… and I had no idea then how much the playing field would change. The move was at once thrilling (I landed in the Bay Area during an earthquake) and tiring (how does one accumulate that much stuff that it takes weeks to stack, pack, unpack and give away most of it?) and sad. I left behind so much in Boston.

Sometimes, it takes leaving a place to realize how much a part of it we are. That happened, for me, during my years in Boston – I realized that I am a California girl at heart, and family-oriented, to boot! Now that I'm back, I’m hearing my own accent against all these chipper Californians, noting that I appear to always be in a hurry, wondering how these people survive without real coffee, and actually missing the brutal cold.

OK, I might not miss the cold, but I do miss coming in from it.

Here’s wishing you a new year of soft, happy landings… and always, the sheer joy of coming in from the cold.

Until next time,

Conna

Another Day, Another Craft Fair

Ah, the final day of September. The air is crisp; the sky fell dark before dinner time, and I’m exhausted. Today marked the end on my bittersweet summer in Boston. And it also marked the end of my recent foray into the world of East Coast craft fairs. It could have been a fabulous, dreamy day… were it not for my extremely sleep-deprived state and the lost box.

Last night, after my third BBQ in seven days, I asked a friend “up” – that seems to be a Boston phrase, as in “up” from the garden, “up” to the house, “up” and away from the noise of the party. My friend had offered to help me get everything ready for the craft fair. This was, after all, my farewell tour in the world of Boston open air markets. I’d made sterling jewelry, mixed in a bit of rose quartz and leather (wherever possible, always), plus crafted scores of textured, layered, collage-type cards… after a summer of being a craft fair slacker, I was ready for this one. I was planning to show up with everything assembled, priced and ready to go. I had it made, literally!

And it was all in that box.

Somehow, in the madness of parties, packing and preparing to move across the country, all of the items into which I’d put so much time and effort and love had vanished. I had a box: it was clearly labeled, filled with handmade goods, and ready for the fair. And, for the life of me, I couldn’t find it last night at midnight. Or at 1:00 a.m. Or even 2:00 a.m. We looked high and low, and wherever that box may have been, it was nowhere to be found.

Before I knew it, dawn was coming and I had nothing but a canopy and some folding chairs to bring to the craft fair. All my work, and all that effort… who knows where it went? I think I may have packed it up and sent it ahead of me to California. At any rate, by the time the sun came up I had precious little to show for my summer of crafting.

And so, I thought about skipping. I wanted to sleep. I wanted another day to look for the carefully packed and labeled box. But it was morning and time to go so I packed up a box of supplies (paper, cards, sterling wire, gemstones, and bits and pieces that could be spun into something good), grabbed a coffee and off I went. Today I was a crafter at large, creating on demand. People asked for items and I made them; there was no “Don’t you have this?” or “Don’t you have that?” Everything was impromptu and it all turned out o.k.

It’s true what they say about the best laid plans. And it’s true that one day can turn around what we thought was real and steady and there – in that box. Today I learned that even without the box, I can create new things; and I learned that sometimes not getting it perfect gives you the chance to get it right.

Until next time,

Conna

Byte Me

I love back to school!

In my day (as my youngest sister puts it, my “era”), getting ready to go back to school meant buying some pencils and an abacus. Today’s kids are all amped up on software. This brings me to the mix of two worlds: a merging of what is old (handmade art) yet new (handmade art) AND celebrates modern technology. Check it out: a handmade pendant that so innocently and exquisitely states, “Byte Me.”

This is from Etsy.com, about which I’ve written here. I freely admit I’m in need of a 12-step group for the Treasury component of this site. The Treasury gives every member a chance to post favorites within any conceivable theme. My first treasury was called “Hot Button Issues” (art with buttons) and, though a bit of a flop, it was a good experience. I’ve since moved on to “Like a Drunk in a Midnight Choir” (an homage to Leonard Cohen’s “Bird on a Wire”) and then – probably my best work so far – “Grey’s Anatomy,” a treasury that featured, well, stuff that’s grey.

This week I waited, pressed the F5 refresh button over and over, and at last got the chance to post my own picks under the title, “More Cushion for Better Pushin.’” That would be pincushions, my friend. Only on Etsy (eBay who?) can one find such a range of craft-meets-art-meets-ultracool that my choices of pincushions went beyond 1,000 artful treasures. At last I chose favorites: a bird in shades of blue, a little turtle made of felted wool, a happy little dumpling pincushion. Along with the pincushions I included a voodoo pincushion doll pendant.

This is something I would love to wear on a first date!

The maker of this little gem, SparkleMe, surprised me with a very nice “convo” (that’s Etsian for “message”) saying that she’d featured my Treasury in her blog.

Once you've checked out the blog, you'll want to click on this link to SparkleMe’s shop. In it, you will find the perfect back to school accessory for today’s modern kids: the cute little pendant that proudly proclaims “Byte Me.”

Until next time,

Conna