Meredith Kendall's Blog, page 82
December 10, 2012
Christmas cards
Obsolete? Too much work? Superseded by email?
Yes.
Urggh.
The guilt. I feel like I should create a beautiful handmade calligraphic photo-endowed Christmas card and send out with a personal hand-written message to each friend and family member.
Not going to happen. I haven't got round to opening the cards I received 2 weeks ago. Or was it three. I know once I open them I'll have to make a decision. Save? Toss? Answer with heartfelt message?
Now don't get me wrong. I care about these people. I do. There's no excuse for the way I act and feel. But perhaps an explanation? A multifaceted explanation: I work 50-60 hours/week, time off I explore the beautiful state of Maine, that flat tire, Secret Santa at work-must shop & wrap, laziness, sloth, apathy, attempts at a social life, writer's cramp (no, that one won't work, scratch that), OK I got nothing. I'm sorry.
I have all the best intentions. Boxes of cards are stacked, waiting for personal notes & stamps. Also waiting: spring syllabi, dust bunnies, travel plans, Reiki clients, and piles of laundry. So, group email OK with you?
Yes.
Urggh.
The guilt. I feel like I should create a beautiful handmade calligraphic photo-endowed Christmas card and send out with a personal hand-written message to each friend and family member.
Not going to happen. I haven't got round to opening the cards I received 2 weeks ago. Or was it three. I know once I open them I'll have to make a decision. Save? Toss? Answer with heartfelt message?
Now don't get me wrong. I care about these people. I do. There's no excuse for the way I act and feel. But perhaps an explanation? A multifaceted explanation: I work 50-60 hours/week, time off I explore the beautiful state of Maine, that flat tire, Secret Santa at work-must shop & wrap, laziness, sloth, apathy, attempts at a social life, writer's cramp (no, that one won't work, scratch that), OK I got nothing. I'm sorry.
I have all the best intentions. Boxes of cards are stacked, waiting for personal notes & stamps. Also waiting: spring syllabi, dust bunnies, travel plans, Reiki clients, and piles of laundry. So, group email OK with you?
December 9, 2012
Winslow Homer
Winslow Homer. Thought I didn't care for his work. I'd seen pics in books and catalogs, ho hum. Coastal landscapes, so what?
Saw an exhibit at the Portland Museum of Art today and wow. Blew me away. How could he so completely capture the smell, feel, and sound of the Maine coast with... take a closer look, scattered daubs of paint?
It seemed like magic to me.
From across the room I could see the power of the wave. Violence, Maureen said. "The wave is violent. Dave says 'powerful', but I say 'violent.'" Dave is Maureen's husband and they are in Portland celebrating Maureen's birthday.
We had brunch at a funky downtown bistro; coffee & breakfast burritos all around. We walked to the museum and admired Paul Akers' Dead Pearl Diver. I was again surprised at the breadth of the collection: Matisse, Rodin, Renoir, Hartley, Ipcar, Cassat, Picasso, Indiana, Nevelson, Monet, and Calder.
But it was the Homer exhibit that surprised me. Oils and watercolors. I was enthralled with the foggy coastal scene. How could a flat grayish-brown blur be so compelling? Rocks, water, and sky are so difficult to capture- he did it- and conveyed violence, solitude, and fortitude.
I especially like the ones with people- and they were mostly women: strong working seaside women. They wore long skirts and slim boots as they hauled fishing nets and traps. Their facial expressions were chiseled, far-seeing, focused, and serious.
I looked at the paintings from as far away as I could get, then slowly approached, as close as I could. It was an optical illusion. From afar: a perfect scene. like the ho-hum magazine photo of the Maine coast. As I approached, the scene broke up into planes of light, rectangles of rock, a cloudy froth of sea-foam, the smooth flow of a receding wave, or a bramble of seaweed. Closer and it was blobs of paint, swirls of color, scrapes and ridges.
There were two with animals. One was a flock of Canada geese in flight. Two were on the ground, at least one was dead. Both? Maybe one was keening the loss of it's mate. The other painting was a fox in the snow. Ravens seemed to be threatening, perhaps attacking. Again: violence, grief, estrangement.
Most paintings were dark, desolate, and conflicted. Yeah, I liked them. Who knew.
Saw an exhibit at the Portland Museum of Art today and wow. Blew me away. How could he so completely capture the smell, feel, and sound of the Maine coast with... take a closer look, scattered daubs of paint?
It seemed like magic to me.
From across the room I could see the power of the wave. Violence, Maureen said. "The wave is violent. Dave says 'powerful', but I say 'violent.'" Dave is Maureen's husband and they are in Portland celebrating Maureen's birthday.
We had brunch at a funky downtown bistro; coffee & breakfast burritos all around. We walked to the museum and admired Paul Akers' Dead Pearl Diver. I was again surprised at the breadth of the collection: Matisse, Rodin, Renoir, Hartley, Ipcar, Cassat, Picasso, Indiana, Nevelson, Monet, and Calder.
But it was the Homer exhibit that surprised me. Oils and watercolors. I was enthralled with the foggy coastal scene. How could a flat grayish-brown blur be so compelling? Rocks, water, and sky are so difficult to capture- he did it- and conveyed violence, solitude, and fortitude.
I especially like the ones with people- and they were mostly women: strong working seaside women. They wore long skirts and slim boots as they hauled fishing nets and traps. Their facial expressions were chiseled, far-seeing, focused, and serious.
I looked at the paintings from as far away as I could get, then slowly approached, as close as I could. It was an optical illusion. From afar: a perfect scene. like the ho-hum magazine photo of the Maine coast. As I approached, the scene broke up into planes of light, rectangles of rock, a cloudy froth of sea-foam, the smooth flow of a receding wave, or a bramble of seaweed. Closer and it was blobs of paint, swirls of color, scrapes and ridges.
There were two with animals. One was a flock of Canada geese in flight. Two were on the ground, at least one was dead. Both? Maybe one was keening the loss of it's mate. The other painting was a fox in the snow. Ravens seemed to be threatening, perhaps attacking. Again: violence, grief, estrangement.
Most paintings were dark, desolate, and conflicted. Yeah, I liked them. Who knew.
December 8, 2012
kirtan
Went to kirtan this evening.
Wasn't sure I'd go. So tired. Possibility of freezing rain and sleet. So sad about Fluffy. Need to get out: out of my head and out of my house.
Stayed up past midnight reading a good book. Jumped out of bed around 6 this morning and decided to head out to the dreaded Wal-Mart for Secret Santa presents. A work thing. My recipient likes Santas and detailed plastic table decorations. Spent about an hour selecting gifts for her and stuff I needed for the house. Got to the register: no wallet. Left it home because I was shopping online last night. Forgot to toss wallet back into purse. I asked the clerk to save my bag and trudged out to my car, in the cold drizzle, empty-handed.
Had a flat tire.
Drove slowly to the garage across the street and squirted in some air. How much? No clue. Til it looked better. Drove home for my wallet, then onwards to my tire place. Hours later I had my Wal-Mart bag and a new tire.
Made rice for the potluck. Did corpse pose (savasanna) on the couch for 30 minutes. It got dark. I fired up my GPS and headed out.
HI hi hi. Look at the food, Got a plate and sunk into a comfy couch. The host, Askok, asked me, "Do you want to relax, or do you want to work? Oh, you want to relax."
I jumped up, "Oh no! I want to work. What can I do?"
So I hung up coats, organized the food (salads on the bar, entrees on the table in the kitchen, desserts in the dining room), and jiggled the toilet handle. I also moved coats and shoes to the other closet (they piled up so fast in the entryway), answered questions, and got to meet lots of people. I'll tell you, taking coats is a great job for shy people.
Left to myself, I would hover on the edges. Observe. Step out for fresh air. With jobs, I talked to everyone.
Suddenly, Pierre was there. He's a friend, a fellow Reiki practitioner.
We celebrated Ashok's 25 years in the US. "I came to the US in 1987 with $100," he told us. Now he has a gorgeous home, his own business, and lots of friends.
Then the kirtan started. Kirtan is chanting the names of Hindu gods. You don't have to be Hindu to chant, as Ashok explained. People of all faiths are welcome. Kirtan is spiritual music. It's community. It's sound healing from the inside, and from outside. It's sound and movement, call and response. Sometimes it's quiet and slow, other times fast and loud. Some people dance.
There were talented singers and musicians there. They played harmonium, classic guitar, drums, and flute.
I sang for Fluffy. My voice joined the community of voices. I shook a purple egg, making a rattly sound. I felt like a musician. I even swayed a little.
Afterwards I helped clean up. I tossed plates and cups, lugged garbage bags outside, swept the floor, and consolidated the leftover food. There was another woman cleaning too. She washed dishes and wiped tables and counters. We talked and joked as we worked.
Out of the blue she said, "What's your maiden name?"
"Why do you want to know?" I asked. Cautious.
"We went to art school together! I recognize your voice," she said. "Michael Moore, Uris Ubans, Sheila, and Willow, remember?"
o.m.g.
That was how many years ago? Lots. She's my age? How come she's so beautiful and I'm so old?
We were art majors. We drew, took photos, and made pots.
She was wearing silver jewelry that she made herself. She looked chic and sophisticated. All those years ago, now here we were cleaning a kitchen as the kirtan wrapped up.
Life sometimes goes around in circles.
Wasn't sure I'd go. So tired. Possibility of freezing rain and sleet. So sad about Fluffy. Need to get out: out of my head and out of my house.
Stayed up past midnight reading a good book. Jumped out of bed around 6 this morning and decided to head out to the dreaded Wal-Mart for Secret Santa presents. A work thing. My recipient likes Santas and detailed plastic table decorations. Spent about an hour selecting gifts for her and stuff I needed for the house. Got to the register: no wallet. Left it home because I was shopping online last night. Forgot to toss wallet back into purse. I asked the clerk to save my bag and trudged out to my car, in the cold drizzle, empty-handed.
Had a flat tire.
Drove slowly to the garage across the street and squirted in some air. How much? No clue. Til it looked better. Drove home for my wallet, then onwards to my tire place. Hours later I had my Wal-Mart bag and a new tire.
Made rice for the potluck. Did corpse pose (savasanna) on the couch for 30 minutes. It got dark. I fired up my GPS and headed out.
HI hi hi. Look at the food, Got a plate and sunk into a comfy couch. The host, Askok, asked me, "Do you want to relax, or do you want to work? Oh, you want to relax."
I jumped up, "Oh no! I want to work. What can I do?"
So I hung up coats, organized the food (salads on the bar, entrees on the table in the kitchen, desserts in the dining room), and jiggled the toilet handle. I also moved coats and shoes to the other closet (they piled up so fast in the entryway), answered questions, and got to meet lots of people. I'll tell you, taking coats is a great job for shy people.
Left to myself, I would hover on the edges. Observe. Step out for fresh air. With jobs, I talked to everyone.
Suddenly, Pierre was there. He's a friend, a fellow Reiki practitioner.
We celebrated Ashok's 25 years in the US. "I came to the US in 1987 with $100," he told us. Now he has a gorgeous home, his own business, and lots of friends.
Then the kirtan started. Kirtan is chanting the names of Hindu gods. You don't have to be Hindu to chant, as Ashok explained. People of all faiths are welcome. Kirtan is spiritual music. It's community. It's sound healing from the inside, and from outside. It's sound and movement, call and response. Sometimes it's quiet and slow, other times fast and loud. Some people dance.
There were talented singers and musicians there. They played harmonium, classic guitar, drums, and flute.
I sang for Fluffy. My voice joined the community of voices. I shook a purple egg, making a rattly sound. I felt like a musician. I even swayed a little.
Afterwards I helped clean up. I tossed plates and cups, lugged garbage bags outside, swept the floor, and consolidated the leftover food. There was another woman cleaning too. She washed dishes and wiped tables and counters. We talked and joked as we worked.
Out of the blue she said, "What's your maiden name?"
"Why do you want to know?" I asked. Cautious.
"We went to art school together! I recognize your voice," she said. "Michael Moore, Uris Ubans, Sheila, and Willow, remember?"
o.m.g.
That was how many years ago? Lots. She's my age? How come she's so beautiful and I'm so old?
We were art majors. We drew, took photos, and made pots.
She was wearing silver jewelry that she made herself. She looked chic and sophisticated. All those years ago, now here we were cleaning a kitchen as the kirtan wrapped up.
Life sometimes goes around in circles.
December 4, 2012
lots of 2s
Just realized, Fluff died on 12-2-12 at 2 pm.
What is "2" in numerology?
According to Michael McClain
The number 2
2 Positive TraitsCooperation, adaptability, considerate of others, sensitive to the needs of others, partnering, an arbiter or mediator, modest, sincere, spiritually influenced, a diplomat.
2 Negative TraitsShyness, timidity, fear, self-consciousness, drown in detail, depression.
What is "2" in numerology?
According to Michael McClain
The number 2
2 Positive TraitsCooperation, adaptability, considerate of others, sensitive to the needs of others, partnering, an arbiter or mediator, modest, sincere, spiritually influenced, a diplomat.
2 Negative TraitsShyness, timidity, fear, self-consciousness, drown in detail, depression.
December 2, 2012
Fluffernutter 1999-2012
died peacefully at home...got lots of Reiki, and lots of love
December 1, 2012
Egg McMuffin
I went to the Chester Greenwood parade today. Got an Egg McMuffin on the way and shared it with Fluff. She ate some and that was good, as she hasn't been eating or drinking much the past few days.
She slept in the car as I stopped at the Farmer's Union to buy fresh, free-range eggs: $3.00/dozen. She slept in the car as I shopped at the craft fairs. I got little gifts for my Secret Santa at work. There were some really beautiful items there this year- complicated beaded jewelry and silver bracelets. There were charming felt cupcakes... but what does one do with a felt cupcake?
Then I went to visit my friends Betsy & Dave. I love their house: so warm and comfy. It's all wood floors and walls, Persian carpets, comfy sofas, a wall of plants, a ceiling of baskets, cats & dogs, and my good friends. While I ate a last piece of Thanksgiving apple pie, Betsy made Fluff a scrambled egg on toast and Fluff ate most of it.
Betsy and I went downtown and toured the octagon house. The local historical society is hoping to purchase it, and hosted an open house today. It's an old 8-sided brick house full of antiques; it already looks like a museum. Different local businesses took over a room- and decorated it for Christmas. There were beautiful floral arrangements, hot wassail, and cookies.
Today was good. Tomorrow I will be snowed in: will alternately shovel snow and read a good book.
She slept in the car as I stopped at the Farmer's Union to buy fresh, free-range eggs: $3.00/dozen. She slept in the car as I shopped at the craft fairs. I got little gifts for my Secret Santa at work. There were some really beautiful items there this year- complicated beaded jewelry and silver bracelets. There were charming felt cupcakes... but what does one do with a felt cupcake?
Then I went to visit my friends Betsy & Dave. I love their house: so warm and comfy. It's all wood floors and walls, Persian carpets, comfy sofas, a wall of plants, a ceiling of baskets, cats & dogs, and my good friends. While I ate a last piece of Thanksgiving apple pie, Betsy made Fluff a scrambled egg on toast and Fluff ate most of it.
Betsy and I went downtown and toured the octagon house. The local historical society is hoping to purchase it, and hosted an open house today. It's an old 8-sided brick house full of antiques; it already looks like a museum. Different local businesses took over a room- and decorated it for Christmas. There were beautiful floral arrangements, hot wassail, and cookies.
Today was good. Tomorrow I will be snowed in: will alternately shovel snow and read a good book.
November 30, 2012
привет
Not sure why, but this blog is popular in Russia. Is Reiki big in Russia? I hope so.
до свидания
спасибо
до свидания
спасибо
frozen kale
Kind of cold out there tonight, 15 F (9.4C) and the kale isn't looking so good. Kind of stiff and falling over. I broke off a bit and munched. Frozen, but surprisingly delicious. Delicately flavorful. Definitely edible. 
eagle & sage
Shared Reiki today.
During the session I saw a vision of an enormous eagle, flapping wings over a bonfire of sage, spreading sage smoke.
Trite and predictable imagery? Excessively New-Agey? Yeah, but that's what I saw.
During the session I saw a vision of an enormous eagle, flapping wings over a bonfire of sage, spreading sage smoke.
Trite and predictable imagery? Excessively New-Agey? Yeah, but that's what I saw.
November 29, 2012
Fluff again
Fluff is sick again. She's having trouble breathing and swallowing, and barely eats. I made her some rice; she likes that and she kept it down.
I think she might have masses in her neck, pressing on her trachea and esophagus. She has many soft tumors, and had one large one removed four or five years ago. She's almost 14.
I took her to the vet yesterday. The vet examined her and said there was nothing wrong. She did admit that Fluff's respiratory rate and effort were increased, but glared at me and said, "It's probably something like you 're wearing a new perfume and now your dog has asthma."
Yeah, I don't wear perfume.
Then the vet said, "She should have a chest x-ray."
"How much will that cost and what will it tell you?"
"$120, and if she has an enlarged heart," the vet said.
"An enlarged heart? You think it's congestive heart failure? Can you treat that?"
"Yes, there are medications. It could be heart failure. Does she cough a lot? That's a sign of heart failure."
"No, she doesn't cough. I'm going to have to think about an x-ray. I think I'll just take her home now."
So I did. She's having trouble breathing and swallowing, but she ate some rice. She sleeps a lot. I'm glad she's still here.
I think she might have masses in her neck, pressing on her trachea and esophagus. She has many soft tumors, and had one large one removed four or five years ago. She's almost 14.
I took her to the vet yesterday. The vet examined her and said there was nothing wrong. She did admit that Fluff's respiratory rate and effort were increased, but glared at me and said, "It's probably something like you 're wearing a new perfume and now your dog has asthma."
Yeah, I don't wear perfume.
Then the vet said, "She should have a chest x-ray."
"How much will that cost and what will it tell you?"
"$120, and if she has an enlarged heart," the vet said.
"An enlarged heart? You think it's congestive heart failure? Can you treat that?"
"Yes, there are medications. It could be heart failure. Does she cough a lot? That's a sign of heart failure."
"No, she doesn't cough. I'm going to have to think about an x-ray. I think I'll just take her home now."
So I did. She's having trouble breathing and swallowing, but she ate some rice. She sleeps a lot. I'm glad she's still here.
