A Cold North Wind

Sometimes, a cold wind will blow through swinging open a front door that has not been properly closed.  A family member responds by getting up to shut the door.  Everyone feels the chill and moves to find a sweater or shake off the cold.  Our family had chilling air sweep through our home last Tuesday when Brad found out he had prostate cancer.  The phone call sent chills down to our core.  Brad mobilised to shut the door and will have surgery in the next month to rid himself of it.  The chilling wind is still with us as we move to shake it off.  We have felt the questions of our mortality, what do we want to leave to our family, and what of ourselves would we want our children to remember.  Brad would like to leave his genealogy records for coming generations and to teach Jessi how to hunt and use a gun.  I would like her to develop her art and feed her soul with it.  Brad would like to teach Cammi how to find strength and resolve.  I would like to leave quilts for others to keep warm with and teach Cammi how to sew, releasing her inner art.  Together, Brad and I would like to live simply, to laugh together, and to enjoy watching our children grow. 

Miss Marian

I received a gift today. One of the ladies at my favorite quilt store received a call from Sandy McKay. Her mother, who loved to create cross stitch wall hangings on a wooden frame, had recently passed away. She did not want to sell the frame; she wanted to give it to someone who would continue creating on it. The saleslady thought of me and thought I would appreciate the generosity and honor the gift. I phoned Sandra today and she wanted me to come over. I had a wonderful time with Sandy. She showed me pictures of her Mother, Miss Marian, and a wall hanging she had done. The wall hanging was of a garden, which Miss Marian stitched many. Sandy and I agreed that energy never leaves and that Miss Marian left her energy in the frame. You could feel the energy near her things. I shared a dream I had last night with Sandy. I opened the door to what I thought was my living room. As the door opened I saw that it was not my room and inside were beautiful fabrics on the furniture and skeins of threads hanging from the walls. Golds and reds were everywhere and sunlight was pouring in through the window. A dark haired woman was sitting with her hands crossed at the wrist, by the window. She stood up. I said, "I'm sorry, I thought this was my room." She said, " That's alright, you are welcome here. This is your room now too." Sandy said it sounded like something her Mom would say. We agreed coincidences don't exist; everything happens for a reason. One has to quiet down to hear. I am honored to have been chosen to carry on Miss Marian's work. I agreed to take a picture of the frame and show Sandy something I made on it. I could feel the air tingle as we talked. Sandy said her Mom talks to her often and was surprised when I referred to her as Miss Marian. She said that was what people called her. How did I know? That which encompasses us all spoke to me and I promised Sandy to slow down, quiet down, and listen. I am honored.

My old posts from Myspace

I wanted to save some blog entries from Myspace and decided to leave them here.

Jan 18, 2008
I miss her giggle.
Current mood: nostalgic
Brad said he missed Jessica. I should miss her warmth. Hugging her is easy, her body always hugs back. I should miss her smile. Her whole face lights up. Always has. I should miss her rambles. She is a consummate conversationalist. But, no, it's her giggle I miss. The memory of it can warm me on a lonely night. I have been known to think of excuses to call her - just to hear that giggle. I don't have to say anything funny. Jessica cannot talk long without giggling. It is infectious, melodic - it is Jessica embracing life.


Dec 12, 2007
So sometimes I am not the brightest bulb on the tree.
Today is my day off. Brad made me stay home because he thought I was getting stressed out about Christmas. Okay, so maybe he was right. Anyway, I wanted to make some stew and his rank roast was still in the fridge, in my crockpot. He had promised to feed it to the critters. I decided to help him and cut it up to distribute to the forest creatures. I took the plate outside and noticed my one neighbor was not at home and it was pitch black. I suddenly felt alone, very alone. I dropped the meat near our front yard and scurried back inside. I explained this all to Brad when he called. He burst out loud laughing and said, "So, let me see, you went outside, at night, with meat in your hands." I think I have a ways to go in the Daniel Boone department. I am now safely inside with my electricity, walls, and locked door. I don't think bears know how to pick locks yet.

Dec 4, 2007
We are Home!
I am home after another "Woodinville has been declared a disaster zone" evening. Visions of last year are still dancing in my head. Brad and I went to work as usual, until the highway we were on, 522, came to a sudden halt. All of our recent rain had flooded Woodinville. A traffic jam did the rest of the damage. Woodinville had become an island.
I went to work, where for several hours we helped co-workers and customers find the secret route off of the island. Some co-workers spent 3 hours trying to get home. Some stayed with friends. We heard reports of a submerged truck and circling helicoptors. Matt walked Laura across the train tressle and down the hillside to meet her ride. He then found himself leading families out of Woodinville across the same route.
Brad had to go up to Wood-Duvall to Avondale to Redmond to get to Renton. He spent the evening helping clients find their way home and recording new flooding and outages. He told me the Govenor had declared Woodinville a disaster area.
We in Woodinville didn't need the Govenor to tell us the obvious.
I miss Jessica. She always came and picked me up on the nights I didn't know if Brad was coming to get me. I could always stay at her place and have a girl's night and find out what she had in her liquor cabinet. Always worth it.
Tonight, Brad came through and we made it home. Back to the snow and Payton Creek and Bridal Veil Stream so loud I thought our little valley was flooding. I am home.


Aug 16, 2007
Looking at the NW sky
Current mood:nostalgic
I have the next 3 days off. Today I am home. I am doing a little cleaning, a little sorting, and a lot of looking at Mt. Index. The sky is perfect: cloudy with threatening rain. Some Loreena McKinnett music and a little of my new drink makes for the perfect afternoon. I have discovered vodka with the liquor "Celtic Crossing" goes down smooth and one drink lasts hours.
I am waxing nostalgic as I am coming across stuff my kids owned, made, or loved. Makes me miss their laughter, off-beat jokes, and warm hugs.
I waited so many years for a little alone time and quiet. . . and I spend it missing them.

The Lady

She has been in my life since 2004. She first appeared in our home in Gold Bar. We were getting ready to move and I was sorting papers to throw away. A little picture of her appeared. I asked Brad, Cammy, and Jessi if this little picture belonged to them and they said no. I also asked if they had ever seen this picture before and they said no. I threw it away. A day later, I was sorting through a shoe box full of junk and there she was again. I threw her away. The third time she appeared I asked my family if they had taken her out of the trash and they assured me they had not. I threw her away. As I was arranging our belongings in the cabin, she appeared again. I remarked on how the chances of her appearing were above the probability of chance. Yes, I tossed her out again, but this time questions began running through my mind. If this is not chance, what is it? Were there four copies of her throughout our stuff? If this was outside of normal experience; what abnormal experience was it? I was a bit shaken and asked Brad where she could have come from. We agreed the paper was not from a picture, but more like the photos in the frames when you buy them.

She did not appear for a few years after that. In the Spring of 2009, I was sorting files in the spare room and remembered the Lady. I thought about how I had not seen her for a few years and wondered if She had stayed in the trash. I put the files on the desk and went to bed. The next morning, Brad went to work and I looked forward to finishing the spare room. I opened the door and there she was; on the floor in the middle of the room. No papers had slid off the desk, nothing was out of place. She had earned a place in our home. Whatever was the cause of her appearing, She needed to be acknowledged. I took her to a frame shop and picked out a nice frame for her. She sits in our living room and has not moved since.

People have offered explanations for her. One person said She was real and her spirit has returned to her picture. Another stated her appearance was pure chance, nothing more. One person looked at me as if I was crazy and had imagined it. Brad weighed in; it just didn't matter. He liked the picture and was fine with her in the living room. I realized I did not need an explanation to everything. Chaos is our acceptance of the unknown. She has only moved when the cats have knocked her over and I dust her frame now and again. I have been meaning to post this story about her for two years because She reminds me to accept occurances for what they are, without cause, without meaning. Sometimes it just is.

A postscript to the Lady happened about two weeks ago. Cammy asked me why I keep the picture around when we saw an old advertisement for a Barnes & Noble frame and she was in it. There, mystery solved. I told her we had always suspected that she came from an advertisement; that was not the mystery. Cammy thought we should get rid of her as we were trying to cut down on the clutter. I went on to work. When I came home I found her facing to the side. I asked if the cats had been near her. Cammy said no. I reached for her to face her out again and noticed she had a chip on the top of her picture. How did this happen when she has been encased in the frame since 2004? Chaos, She lives it.