The Watcher

Inside us there is a listener who listens for what we say, a watcher who watches what we do. Each step we take in conversation with our friends, moving slowly, or flying among words, he watches, calling us into what is possible, into what is not said, into the shuckheap of ruined arrowheads, or the old man with missing fingers.
We wake, stretch, stand up, speak our first sentence, and fall as we talk into a hole in the sounds we make. Overly sane afternoons in a room during our twenties come back to us as a son who is mad. Every longing another had that we failed to see returns as a squinting of the eyes when we talk, and no sentimentality, only the ruthless body performing its magic, transforming each of our confrontations into energy, changing our scholarly labors late at night over white-haired books into certainty and healing power, and our cruelties into an old man with missing fingers.
At breakfast we speak of people long known who've left the Path, and two hours later in broad daylight the car slides off the road. I give advice in public one day as if I were adult, and that night a policeman in my dreams holds a gun to the head of a blindfolded girl. We talk of eternity and growth, and I pour more wine into my glass than into yours.

* I wrote down this short piece from a book without noting the author. 
Why is Robert Bly the first person to come to mind?  Maybe... not?

Sunday.  

pre

mid-everything

post

I'm pretty thankful for stacks of Sunday dishes, even in all their dirty, because it's a pleasant reminder of the good people that come your way...

Monday

And, if you've a mind to, check out this Picture & Poem project.

This week started with an afternoon of kitchen play and a perfectly small Sunday Supper extravaganza. Every week should begin with a fried apple pie, or three.

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It's not over, but the week is wrapping up nicely. Today I received official news that my poet friend, Tom McCauley, and I received a fellowship from The Union for Contemporary Art here in Omaha, NE. This fellowship provides us with a free studio space and a stipend for 6 months, beginning in February. We've been toying with a collaborative book project for awhile and now we've been given some incredible resources to help see it through! Along with our own personal works, we'll also be initiating a community-based project with a group of kids in North Omaha, but more to come on that. There are a lot of logistics to work out with this venture but we're both really excited and thankful to have this opportunity to learn, explore, create, and give back!

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Pause future talk, the week has been productive. I acquired a new accessory (see below) and reaffirmed that cafeteria lunches still need an overhaul; I spent the day sorting through a million high school drawings.

  

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Here's to packing your lunch, and to fine winter nights.

Cheer

For several months now Sunday evenings have been reserved for "Sunday Supper," a small event that brings food and friends together. 

It's a group of fine, fine cooks &  lovely, lovely people, which means a wonderful way to start the week.

So glad that the very first day of this brand new year just so happened to fall on our gathering day...

The before.

and the after.

 There were new faces, old faces, and the usual star of the show.

Here's to the new on day #2.

here, there, and back again

NE to KY to TN to NC to KY to NE.

I make circles. 

Let's get dizzy. 

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"Come on, let's skip and be merry!"

 "Let's kick these rocks and make them have some fun!" 

-Toby

a pretty great travel partner

but there was that one quote:

"You know how you make drawings of real things, 

but your drawings don't actually look like anything..."

 also a fine critic and, obviously, hard to impress

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This is where we started.

Western Kentucky

This is somewhere between the two.

This is where we paused for awhile.

Toby and Michelle perch 

draw, read, & relax... oh, and treats
a fantastic restaurant, should you ever be in the neighborhood: Knife & Fork; Spruce Pine, NC

we watched this all afternoon

Thank you Miss Michelle, we had a real nice time!
Love, Toby & Maranda

Skyping with my best friend in Kentucky goes something like this:

we're excellent communicators, obviously

Suppertime with friends in Nebraska goes something like this:

 delicious food and pie, of course

charades

shadow play

keep your scraps

and a grand finale, bringing the evening to a close

There's a holiday sale coming up in November. I'm participating...

and have vowed to use up all my lingering supplies before collecting more
my paper stash is ludicrous

So far so good.

Over.

I'm lucky to know some pretty fantastic people that like to share delicious food, special drink, conversation, and potluck fun. This is a teensytiny sampling of the spread we had this past Sunday, um, half-eaten.

Sundays. My favorite day. As my grandmother would say, "Why, I never..."

I suppose I was brought up under the impression that half statements were actually full statements.

I'm not sure this has served me well.

This may explain some things.

beets? gone. apple/rasp pie? gone. sweet potato w/ nutty crust? gone. bean salad? one more serving.
lentils? gawd, there's still a pot full..

It's been a fine week so far, and coming home to mail, real mail, helps:

We talk to each other, and ourselves, in our letters

sometimes we don't have to say much

 and other times we make tiny books with doodles and after thoughts
because we're paper people, which means piles of paper scraps

always, we write like we talk... for better or worse.

and we always end on a high note

And, finally, this is pretty fantastic: