One of the greatest inventions of our modern age

The cherry pitter.

My life was vastly improved when I acquired a cherry pitter.

When snow is not snow...

Snowcones are the first instance of snow not being snow, of course.  But it can also be hail.  Last week we had what were probably the biggest hail stones I have ever seen, or close to.  Lady V liked to eat them before things started soaking on us.  There was a nice thunderstorm, too.

I am, however, glad that it is dry and sunny this week, because the dogs were really getting anxious with all that rain.  Poor puhpuhs.

Notes to Self

Jessica and I have decided to do some posts together, because well why not.  We're often thinking about the same types of things at the same time, anyway.

So today we are both writing about notes that we write to ourselves.

I used to have this really good short-term memory.  It is...less good now, which is really frustrating to me and just makes me mad, but there's nothing I can do about it, except write things down and make some attempt at keeping it all together.

Sometimes I use post-it notes, which are good when I have to keep track of all those repetitive things in life...but they tend to accumulate, and then I have this pile of post it notes, and they get stuck to other things and each other, and sometimes I wonder why I am still keeping them, but they might have one little piece of information on them that could come in handy in the future, or that I really need to remember to get around to addressing...it gets a little messy.

 

 I write a lot of recipes on post-it notes, though I'm trying to get out of the habit.  In Georgia, my cabinets were covered in post-it notes...I had a vague idea of eventually not having all of my recipes in post-it notes, but they just kind of stayed there because I could find them.  They usually didn't have titles, but I could tell which recipes were which because I remembered what spot on the cabinet they occupied.

I've used notebooks before, and those tend to work well for me.  They do taper off in usage eventually; I'm not really sure why.  I love notebooks and sketchbooks, and I tend to have too many of them and I like to have them specialized, but I think that maybe complicates things.  Though I don't want to admit it.

Lately, though, I have taken to using a nice simple spiral notebook.  It's comfortable.

But the weird thing is, in the last month I have come to use this for everything.  Like, my whole life.  I take notes on philosophical concepts I am studying.

I write notes on Japanese grammar and use it for exercises and vocabulary and phrases.  (And I get additional notations from little hands.)

I use it to write down scripture chains in my scripture study, and for many many meditation notes.

And, I have taken to using it as a regular journal, which is potentially dangerous.  (Okay, maybe not just potentially.)  When I started my spiral notebook, intending it mostly for study notes and etc, I had just finished my last hardcover journal.

I wasn't eager to start a new journal with the topics I was currently wrestling with, for some reason.  Just seemed like a bad start to a journal...  So on a page of my notebook, I started rambling about one thing or another...and it was so comfortable, and it had so much space, and it was always right there at my fingertips when I had something to say, and it didn't take me long to just throw up my hands and decide to use it.

I have had a journal since I was a little girl, and I have many many volumes.  Sometime in high school, I realized I wrote so much that hardcover books weren't very practical for me then, so I started using spiral books, and then even that got to be a lot so I started using looseleaf and putting it in binders.  At some point, I went back to hardcover books, and I still wrote a lot...but my writing has tapered off.  That above journal spanned years, which is rather pathetic for me.

My writing has picked up a lot since I have been using my spiral.  It's just so comfortable and *right there*.

And by "picking up a lot" I mean that I've gone through this particular notebook in six weeks (and that slowly only because a third of those weeks it wasn't used as a journal).  So if I continue, I can expect to go through about 12+ notebooks a year.......that does makes me cringe.  Who in the world would ever want to read or keep this stuff?  I'll need whole rooms to store them.  And it would kill me to lose them all in some calamity.  But it is good for me, at least...because though I can't imagine anyone else wanting to go through all of this, and it will end up a terrible chore to store, I can't remember a damn thing without writing it down, and there's lots to remember at this point with little kids.  And having the freedom to be able to put everything in one place at a time will make a lot of things easier.  My poor brain.  :(

Here is a journaling page about a dream I had.  On a day like the last few weeks, I can easily write eight or more pages as solid as this.......which makes me feel a little crazy.  But all things considered I am feeling it necessary, not just for journaling, but also for the other purposes mentioned about, which are seeming more and more connected to me.  It's been a long time since I've had a comfortable place for study notes, and it's useful to have all of this all together.

I think maybe my kids will be interested to go through my papers someday...but man what a chore they will have...I almost feel guilty.  But I've always felt that my notes and writings were for me primarily, anyway.  If anyone else gets anything out of them, then...well, I will probably just feel embarrassed, lol.  Oh well.

***

Update:  See, I didn't *write down* the fact that I should have checked that I post this at the same *time* as Jessica.  I thought, for sure I'd remember that...

I've been feeling especially...awesome...the last couple of days.  I am so not there.  *sigh*

Paint Channeling

I had an interesting realization tonight.

Ever since I started dating my husband (maybe before then I had this, too, but there was never a place for it to go and I dealt otherwise), I have had an extremely strong need for the *physical* channeling of my emotions and spirit.  Jared and I are and have always been extremely and deeply connected in ways that cannot be described in any casual way.

Of course, we are often apart, and for very long times, and this is very, very rough for me.  Nothing truly compensates, though of course I have been given various lifelines, because God never leaves us without that which we need.  (At times we are able to enjoy an abundance, and at times we must accept the opposite.)

One of these things has always been painting.  In fact, I began oil painting the first time Jared ever left.  I realized tonight how paint can *physically* channel emotion and spirit, and how much I now need that in some form, that physical aspect.  It's not as good as having Jared right next to me, but I am definitely more equalized with painting than otherwise.  Not *as*, but at least more.

I suppose this is quite the obvious realization to many, though I am not sure that my description entirely coincides with what others believe I am saying.  This is one reason I don't discuss a lot of my internal thoughts--people will nod their head and agree, but in reality they will have no real idea what I am talking about.  I hate being misunderstood; I really do.  I am as precise as possible in what I say, but people will put their own spin on it, anyway, no matter what kind of lengthy discussion I go into.  At any rate, I've understood this ability of paint previously, but I was really able to enumerate it tonight, so it was interesting.

For many painting is a release of emotions, but I don't mean this in that exact way...it's similar, but it's not a forcing or *release* of emotion, it's more a flowing and connecting of spirit.  You might think that is the same; maybe it is or can be, but they are different things to me.

There is absolutely no frustration or negativity with this, at least in the sense of what I am accomplishing, both on the surface as well as deeper.  (There are plenty of negative feelings involved, of course...but we can't do without the bad if we want the good as well, and we can't carry on our deepest connections without both, either.)

So at least it's a good way to paint, I guess.  I always like how things turn out when I paint like this.  (At other times it might serve as a bit of a block for me, because I much prefer to paint when I have have this connection flow going.  Jared does not always have to be gone for it to happen.)

That's my new chair, by the way, I put it together yesterday.  Hopefully it won't fall apart even though it's missing a few bolts...

It's oil pastel, so though it's not as interesting as a wet painting would be, Face at least knows that his hair can potentially attach...

The deer and the lion

Very regal and...a little clueless.

Out of sorts.

This title is quite misleading.  I am far, far beyond being out of sorts.  But being out of sorts is at least part of it.  I get out of sorts for all kinds of reasons and in all types of ways.  This is a much more serious out-of-sorts than normal.  But we'll stick with this idea.  It's more than I am wont to share to begin with, honestly, as I am so extremely internal.

Anyway, I've had such experiences enough times before that I have some expectations of the processes I go through to...get through.

First, I must clean.  I have no choice.  It is the only thing I am able to do at first...but this has been complicated since at the moment I am not nearly as physically able as I usually am.  So it's frustrating, because I believe that this will make my cleaning urge last far longer than it would otherwise.  And, I might ultimately be left frustrated for months because it might just prove too much.  But I hope not, because getting through the cleaning stage is very essential.

Once I get through that urge, then it becomes much easier to get to other types of urges...like my canvas sitting over there, for instance.  It would be nice to get to that point.  I can proceed to creativity now still, but I really need to get that cleaning energy and drive out to be properly suited to the task.

***

Random picture from my computer desk.  (I must specify desks because I have...five desks if you want to get technical.  And yet, still no roll-top!)

That is my kendama.  I love it.

Zebra stick

Life sucks right now...will suck for almost another year.  I guess I can at least say that I have an end date to hope for.  So sometimes I feel like doing things and sometimes I don't.  Sometimes I will have blitzes of motivation and sometimes I won't.  So I guess that's normal on the surface...but it's not really.  You can feel the depth of life on any ordinary day, and of course you can feel it on really good days.  But on bad days...it is really there.  And it is awful on those days, though sometimes they give us the greatest insights.  I wish such could be otherwise.  I don't like being miserable.

I am surprised at how this sketch turned out yesterday...I very, very, very rarely like my only-watercolor pieces...usually they require ink to redeem themselves.  But this actually turned out well.  It is my zebra walking stick, because I was too lazy to get out of my Comfy Chair to get anything else to paint.

I love my WN wc travel set.  I have always loved it.

It is so cute.