The New Project

Sadie the Pond Monster Supervises

So, now that we have the roof done I know you are wondering what on earth Eugene will do with himself every weekend - since the ski season hasn't started yet. I couldn't possibly be entertaining or diverting enough to keep him busy allllll weekend.

I know you will be shocked to find out he is now building A WHOLE BUILDING! A building equal in size to many New York apartments (230 sq. ft.) And is hoping to get it finished before the winter begins in earnest here.

In the photo above he is putting in the concrete post foundation with the help of our resident he-men and neighbors, Jim and Brian. That was 2 weeks ago. Last weekend he got the frame and flooring put in, but now we're headed off to Seattle so only the little baby jesus knows what it will look like when we get back up there in three weeks.

Last year we had a crap snow season, and all our neighbors said it was because Euge had bought a new snowmobile.

I predict record snowfall this year. Since he's trying to build something the sweet white powder will come early in the season and often.

Woohoo! Mount Snow here I come!

 

Ranch Report Day 43

Here's Fenton, looking majestic. He's the little one, and according to Pam, weighs what I do. MaryEllen weighs 50 pounds more than I do.

After two days inside, I finally got out today and played with the dogs in what little snow there is left. It was cold out, so now I'm making soup and finishing the baby sweater I started last night. If only I had a latte...

Late Night

1:30 AM and it's snowing here. Wolfhounds passed out on the couch and the very end of a nice fire in the wood stove. Time for me to get in bed. I'm feeling much better at last.

Insert Lemony Snicket Title Here

Well, lest you think that every day here is paradise, I better tell you that yesterday was a truly wretched day. If I didn't answer your email yesterday, it was because I spent the day completely sick with a migraine. I couldn't even knit, now that is sick.

Today will be a recovery day, trying to get some nourishment, hydration, and doing a little knitting. If I get ambitious later, I might start reading the next book we are reading for my writing group. I will certainly not be changing out of pajamas, except to get into the bath and then change into new pajamas. It's good to have a lot of pajamas.

Self-timer Photo of the Day

Deseo and I are both wearing our orange sweaters for the last day of this hunting season. Tomorrow we can walk around with much less fear of getting shot, which is always nice, though it did amuse me to see Pam in her bright orange stocking cap today. When we went on our walk, I wore one too.

If anyone reading this is wondering where his or her socks are, well, I got greedy and decided to set the socks aside and make myself the sweater you see in the photo above. Now that the sweater's done, I promise to get back to the sock list.

Ali, what color socks did you want, anyway?

XOXO
H

An Absolutely True Photo

Can you even believe this picture? I took it, and about half a dozen others just as stunning, last night. Please don't hate me if you are swimming in the floodwaters of Seattle, I'm just trying to share some light with you!

We thought it was a reflection of our delight at the recent election results. I love the clips where they ask Nancy Pelosi whether she called Bush "dangerous and incompetent" and she all but says "Damn right, I did!"

Okay, that's enough politics for this blog.

All is well here, the dogs are sleeping after a tough day of chasing the horses around the front yard, and the people are also worn out after a long day, um... reading outside, writing poetry, eating homemade ice cream and gloating about being democrats.

Here's to the world being a better place, however it happens.

XOXO
H

I Stole This from You

Our fridge in Vermont


So you know how you take all those polaroids and make the collages on your wall out of them? We kind of ummm co-opted the idea. Only we put the pictures on our fridge.

Here's how it works. Every time a new person visits the house we take their picture. No retakes, no demurring and you only get to do it once. The photo gets taken and put up on the fridge. And now we magically have over 60 people up there!

In web parlance - over 60 unique visitors!

Some have only been once - like Eugene's 2nd cousins by marriage, who we ran into at the ski area and invited back with their nine-year-old daughters. That was an evening, as you can imagine. It was the sort of night that makes you look at little kids and be glad that they come out so cute and break you in gradually. They were darling and precocious and a handful and I felt like I needed a whole 'nother weekend after they left.

Then there are the ski people, the kayaking people, even the climbing people. And lots of Eugene's family. And Mom.

Sometimes, when it is just the two of us for the weekend, I will go and look at the fridge and the faces and I can't believe that it's only been two years that we've had the house and yet we've had that many people! And that many good memories there.

I'm glad that I totally ripped off your idea. I'm now a shameless plagiarizer.

 

And Then There Was Pie For Breakfast!

OR: 35 Things That Made it Feel Like My Birthday This Year

OR: What Happens When You Make Me Steak For Dinner at 8:30 PM

OR: What I Write When It Is 1AM & I Am So Happy I Can't Sleep

Last night, the moon was so bright here, that when I turned out all the lights in the house, it startled me. You could see everything outside. The fence posts, the tall grass in the yard, the clothesline across the driveway, the hills behind the pasture. At midnight, I tried to go to sleep, but was thinking about so many things. Eventually, I sat up in bed with my computer on my lap and wrote two pages of my novel, two pages that I’ve been needing and that I feel sure I will keep.

I woke again in the morning to find the sky an even steady pink from the sunrise. I let MaryEllen out, and then slept again until 10:30.

It’s 1 AM now and I suppose I’ve been trying to sleep for an hour or so. This time, it’s not the book that’s keeping me awake. I’ve been thinking about blog entries. I have to admit, I do that a lot. Pam and Gary, and Pam’s friend Kelly, got here this afternoon, and we talked about blogging a little, and about reading blogs. Pam was saying that she just hates the thought of spending any more time in front of a computer than she already does, and I understand that, but of course it’s not at all the way I feel.

The truth is that I would prefer letters, if I could have them. Of course Pam wasn’t talking about wanting to spend less time with words, this is a woman who is absolutely gleeful at getting to bring books with her on her upcoming trip to Tasmania, it really is the computer piece of it that she means. But I love the computer, because it’s the little way that I’ve been able to seduce people into the world of letters. I know that some of you just look at the pictures, glance a little at what I’m going on about, and that’s okay, because we are still somehow here together, and if you read just one entry here that you like, that makes you think about or experience your own day a little differently, well, that makes me pretty happy. If you just look at the pictures, and see the first blue sky you’ve seen all day after 30 straight hours of rain, then we’ve accomplished something there too, then, haven’t we?

But I also know that some of the emails I get every day contain words that would never have been said if we only had letters, and they are words I’m glad to have, whatever I had to do to get them.

In college, as some of you know and have evidence of, I was a prolific letter writer. I still have more stationary than probably anyone you know, and I have a feeling that by the time I leave this place, I will be back in the habit of writing letters longhand, and will again be someone who can be counted on to reward most letters sent to me with a reply, probably on nice paper, probably saying at least one happy thing, after all, there is always “My dear friend, I got your letter” to say.

But I wasn’t thinking about letters when I got up to get my computer again tonight. I was thinking about blog entries, and about the blog entry that would accompany the photo of our dinner tonight. I always take pictures when Pam makes dinner. Her dinners are always worth taking photos of.

I thought the title would be “My Birthday Party Arrived Today”, because that was how it felt when these three people and the other Irish Wolfhound I like so much got here, bringing two pies and a box of truffles, and all of the good food that we ate for dinner. To tell the truth, I had second thoughts about writing that it once again felt like my birthday today, when it has felt so much like my birthday so many times in the past month. It didn’t seem fair to feel like it was my birthday at Tomales, and then again when I got all your lovely packages and emails and cards.

And thinking back on it, getting to take the road trip with Susan kind of felt like my birthday, but then, so did going to dinner with Kirsten before I left, and going to Stumbling Goat with Erin, Pam and Gena, and the baby shower I threw for Jenn felt like my own birthday party too, which is crazy, but not as crazy as you might think, since it turned out that the baby we were having the shower for was born on my birthday, and getting that email that told me that her baby boy was born on my 35th birthday made it feel like my birthday again too. And surely there has never been a day in my life that felt more like a birthday than the day I was in the delivery room with Kirstin and held Rhone in my arms for the first time.

I could go on about this particular November 3rd, because I have it on good authority that there are more packages in the mail, and I know for sure that there are leftover smashed potatoes and seven kinds of cheese for lunch and I have an email from Bobby to answer, and I finished my orange sweater tonight and can block it tomorrow and it will probably be ready to wear for real by the time it gets cold in the evening, and on top of all of that, Seneca Wallace has a win.

What I’m really trying to say is what I’m always trying to say on this blog. Every single time I write here I am trying to say I’m grateful for my life, and please don’t think that I don’t know I’ve got it good. I have to admit, I am grateful to the point of feeling a little guilty about it, of feeling like maybe I don’t deserve all this, and then I can’t help it, I want to point out that the year after my 34th birthday started with losing the man I loved in such a painful way, and that did not make this past year a good one.

But that doesn’t explain it, all this good luck and happiness, because even in that hard year, that same birthday that saw the end of that relationship saw the start of my time with my writing group, and that has changed so much about my life, including the fact that I am now writing to you from one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. And anyway, why do we so often want to buy our happiness with pain? Why do I? Why do I want to know if one outweighs the other, if I have broken even or am overdrawn? It shouldn’t work that way, especially since all the happiness doesn’t make that pain any less, and truth be told, I miss him still something fierce, even as I sit here so happy, writing about all the goods things that happened to me in the year since we’ve been apart.

Because I will certainly never doubt that I had happy moments as long as I have that blog entry with the ferris wheel, or the one where Ali told those ladies at Cascade Pizza that I’d be back next year, or the entry for the Summer We Were Single or the love letter after Nate’s visit. And there were a hell of a lot of things that didn’t even get their fair share of play on the blog, including knit nights with Regan and Alexis, and the night we celebrated at El Camino, not to mention the night Paul and I went there and I got to relive how much I loved having him as my work boyfriend back in the day, and then there’s book club which we have to do again when I get back, and red wine and lamp skewers at Portalis with some of those ladies, and there was Gary’s workshop with Dana, and the whole 4th of July weekend, not just the cowboys and clogs, but the dinner outside at a long table set with candles and with more loving family than I ever thought we’d get to have.

And maybe it just always feels like my birthday when I am with someone I love, who may also happen to love me, like those great times with my mom up in LaConner, going to the Skagit River Poetry festival, knitting and watching Pirates of the Caribbean, and there were good times with dad too, eating his homemade chicken noodle soup and hearing him talk about how cute we were when we were little, and last December there was that day at Peanut Butter and Ella’s with Candice and Amber, when I really needed the girlfriend love and really got it, and same thing with Lillian the night we went for gelato and walked around with me saying “I hate everyone” and both of us laughing because I so clearly love her, and drinks with Camille and Kristin were so good even though we were having drinks at that place that sort-of smelled like bleach, for god’s sake!

And who can say if it was a better gift for me or for Dawn that I got to be there for her beautiful wedding this year, and this summer there was that afternoon eating fudgesicles and sitting by Lake Washington with Kere, and there was Bumbershoot with Jeth, where we went to Flatstock, which he loves as much as Nate and I do, and where we saw that deer that I really want to put in my book, and I know I talked on the blog about going to Rat City Roller Girls with Dakota and Clay and Jenn and Chris, but oh the Roller Derby, and if I’m being honest, I have to admit that even though the whole love thing didn’t work out, that lost weekend in Portland over Christmas break really was great, and there are just so many other days when I was totally content being with the person I was with, like drinks at Sambar with Darren and while we are on the subject of birthdays, even Andy’s birthday party at Sambar (no, this blog is not sponsored by Sambar) with Caitlin felt like my birthday because I was with Caitlin, who I love, and everyone knows I love those baristas almost as much as I love a birthday.

So what I’m really really trying to say, is that if you write a blog, you are definitely going to have more fun. Okay, maybe it’s just that you notice it so much more when you think about writing it. My mom sent me a quote recently, someone saying that writers write in order to live their lives twice, and that’s not a bad idea. I do know that one of the great pleasures of this year has been doing this blog with you, Ali, and hearing from friends who confess to me that they read it, or even just check the pictures. I’m so glad we started this, and can’t wait for the next 228 posts bring. That, and…

...wow, I could not be more grateful for all the people who made the last year good for me. I hope you’ll all let me return the favor next year. That way no one (and by no one I mean me) will have to worry about being overdrawn.

XOXO
Heather.

Your Future Sabbatical

 

Look, I just wanted to show you the very fine woodburning stove in front of which you could toast your toes.

We have lots of dry wood, and a cashmere blanket that you could wrap yourself in.

If you wanted to.

I'm just saying... 

Creatures of Habit

There are a lot of things to like about living with dogs. This morning, when I walked into the living room, MaryEllen was standing up on the couch. A dog that big standing up on a couch is a funny sight. Rose, chasing Deseo is also a funny sight, though today I did my best to discourage that, since it gets a little dicey feeling when you are in a small paddock with a horse who wants to come near you to get the treats you've got, while the dog tries to chase the horse into your lap. No one needs a horse in their lap.

Rose and MaryEllen are the sweetest dogs. They're huge but calm, affectionate and mostly very well-behaved. The only one who gives me any trouble around feeding time is the 4 cats who are really supposed to be catching their own dinner here rather than yelling at me for more kibble.

What I'm liking most about living with them now, though, is the way they anchor my days. You all know about the staying up until 2 or 3AM and I've reverted to that now that I'm back from Tomales (okay, I also stayed up until 2AM at Tomales, even though workshops started at 9), so obviously I can get a little wacky with the schedule when left to my own devices. So it's nice to have this one little routine, getting the horses water, and the dogs food every day. I do the water close to the end of the day, before the sun goes down, and then the dogs and cats get fed at 6. The time between when I wake up and when I feed the dogs is used for specific things, though it changes a little every day. I always make myself breakfast. I always do some kind of writing in the morning. The rest of the time is spent on maybe a walk, maybe a trip to town for the mail, and whatever little chores I've decided I'm going to do that day. Cleaning the floors is a big one. You can't go more than a few days if you don't want the dog hair to be recycled in the form of wolfhound-sized dust bunnies.

After I feed the dogs, I'll often do email, then make myself some dinner a little later. There's a lot of knitting that happens after about 8PM. I'm almost done with a sweater I'm making for myself, out of yarn I bought on my first trip to Durango. If it comes out even close to okay, I'll post a photo here. There are a lot of mistakes in it due to my "modifications" from the original pattern (I didn't use the intended yarn, and I used waffle stitch instead of stockinette) but I think I'm going to like it anyway.

I've been slowing down here on the blog entries, can you tell? My other writing is pulling me away, and of course that's a good thing. I'll still try to post every couple days though. Now that you know my habits here, even if I don't, you'll be to picture life at the ranch now, won't you?

XOXO
H

Ranch Report Day 35

It's snowing outside today. Not quite enough to stick, but enough to leave me content to brew a cup of the fancy tea I bought in Durango yesterday, put in the new Willie Nelson CD (also a Durango birthday present to myself) and see just how long I can knit on a sock. Hope it's nice where you are.

Today's the Day!

Happy Birthday!
I heart you! And I send you hugs and chocolate cake with my brains.

Liar Liar Pants on Fire!

I didn't mean to lie about my birthday. It's really today, November 3rd. I just got confused. You know, when you don't have to know what day it is and all.

But really, this is just an excuse to use a photo of my new obsession. The wood stove. I can light fires! They stay lit!

If the roads are clear, I'm going to do that gorgeous drive to Durango again (did you know that one thing I've learned about myself on this adventure is how very very much I love to get in the car and drive?) and sit in a coffee shop to do my writing. That's the big b-day celebration.

Now. Don't you want to wish me a Happy Birthday and tell me how much you love me?

XOXO
H

Wicked Writing Women

This photo of me and Dana cracks me up. I think we look sort of like we are considering you carefully, and may at any moment call you out for your naughty behavior. Which is appropriate, because we did some of that while we were at the Tomales Bay Workshops, the night we crashed the grad students party. Okay, I did more of it in class. Hopefully I will be forgiven for this sin.

It's a shame that our other roommate, Wendy, is not in this photo. After the night we got lost with Dorianne and laughed our way through 6 hours of wrong turns, bad directions, and cell phone calls to men who might be able to direct us to the right road, Dana and I started referring to Wendy as "Poor Wendy". We hadn't met her yet, we just thought she was probably in for it, being our roommate and all. It wasn't long after we met Wendy that we realized she could hold her own with us, and the three of us ended up looking at each other sheepishly the morning that the conference coordinator made the announcement "And please try to keep the 2AM conversations at a low volume, or better yet, take a walk so that the other people staying in your dorms aren't kept awake". Yeah, we were the ones having impassioned conversations about writing at 2AM. I'm sure we weren't the only ones.

Having Dana and Wendy there was a little like having your sister with you in New York. Like New York, writing workshops are wonderful places full of great experiences to have, and really interesting people to meet. Like New York, they are also scary as hell. There's an energy to a writing workshop - there are ups and downs in the collective mood, in self-esteem, sometimes even in your desire to be there. This workshop was an extremely positive, low-ego experience, but we all still have our doubts about putting our writing out there.

Just like New York, the workshops I've done have always been worth it in the end, and are the kind of places I find myself wanting to return to. As Kristin pointed out, I definitely drank the KoolAid.

Having your sister in New York, was knowing that someone always had your back, even if she didn't always agree with you, and knowing that someone would be patient with the vicissitudes in your moods. I know I shouldn't compare someone I had previously spent only 6 hours with to you, Ali, but sometimes extreme situations forge a bond that doesn't require a lot of time to develop, one that is as forgiving and full of affection as you could ever hope from a friendship 6 hours old.

So, not only did I have that with Dana, and then get to enjoy Wendy's company and writing as well, I had some of the writing group women there, and those women kick ass. I've written about them before, and no doubt will again. At some point I realized that the biggest reason I was sorry I wasn't in Ron Carlson's workshop was that it meant I didn't get to read what they had submitted. I've been assured that I will see those stories at some point and I hope that's true. And don't get me wrong, I aspire to do a Ron Carlson workshop, but I have that thing about not understanding how people write short stories that makes it seem a little inappropriate for me.

So. Thanks for making me feel like you had my back, Dana and Wendy. It almost made me feel like I could have read without passing out. But don't quote me on that.

Halloween at The Factory

Well, I couldn't figure out a costume that utilized my Mean Eyed Cat tube top, that didn't involve complete whorishness, and I had to come up with a last minute costume for Eugene...and I didn't dress up as a writer (who would recognize Helen Fielding or Sophie Kinsella anyways?) so I will let my pictures speak for me this time!

Here's a clue as to who we were:



Oh, it's not so hard to figure out, is it?


We were Edie and Andy! Do you recognize the hair?


We were joined for the Halloween festivities by our friends C0ck and Beaver









Beaver met Ed, who told us a gruesome, but appropriate for Halloween, story about his roommate who chopped up his girlfriend and - surprise! Ed knows Manitoba. Hee's one of those old neighborhood guys...


We were also joined by Indiana Jones



Some pimpish Kings



A pimp and his... ummm... doll




Charlie Brown and Wednesday Addams







Even Charlie's gym teacher dropped in



All in all, it was a pretty good night

Halloween at the Ranch

For Halloween at the ranch, MaryEllen and Rose dressed up as Irish Wolfhounds, who, the night before, had dressed up as two pairs of shining eyes, loping down the driveway to meet me, and their tongues dressed up as tongues ready to reclaim me as their own, as part of the ranch again.

What I dressed up as was an almost-35-year-old who had not bathed for 3 days, and who has developed a fondness for boiling water in the kettle on the wood stove, which was dressed up as a wood stove that allowed itself to be filled with fire by a woman who had previously almost never started a fire by herself on the first try. I also dressed up as someone 5'4" who wears the same pair of jeans almost every day and just came back from one of the best weeks of her life that did not include a lover, and who has written every day since and will write every day after.

My computer dressed up as a laptop that got left behind in Denver at the Cherry Creek Four Points Sheraton and that refused to return until $10.76+$49.85 had changed hands, and two days had passed, until the FedEx man miraculously pulled his truck up in my driveway and handed it over, after I signed my name on line 6.

The dining room table dressed up as my work space, complete with writing notebook and fountain pen, but no computer, and later in the day, for it's second costume, it dressed up as the resting place for all manner of happy things, like Hershey's kisses, which had dressed up as a package from Regan, which also included a puzzle, and a little bird dish from Elvis, which was dressed up as the place where the Hershey's kisses live now.

And on Halloween at the ranch, my hands dressed up as the spookiest thing, the thing that gives you a fright and leaves you delighted at the same time, like the reveal at the end of the Sixth Sense - five fingers full of words, including a little finger smeared with the shadows of writing, and then my hand refused to take off that costume and is wearing it still.

Look What I Finally Got

This made me crazy happy today. I have photos of the ocean, of trees, of my two gorgeous poet roommates from the conference, but no, I post a photo of a latte.

I made it to Denver. Now I'm sitting in a hotel room, eating almonds and wasabi peas and drinking Kool-Aid at 2AM. I know, it's an odd meal, but that was all I had left in the car and somehow it never did occur to me to get any dinner tonight. In between getting lost on the way to SFO and then again in Denver and all. What the hell happened to my sense of direction?

Tomorrow is a big day, so I'm not going to write a lot now. A few days ago, I dropped my phone (again) and the flippy screen thing finally broke all the way off, so I need to get a new phone, go to the bank, and do my grocery shopping for the next 37 days. Oh, and there may be some yarn in there somewhere. My big regret is that the Denver Art Museum won't be open.

Then it's the long drive back to Creede, which I'm looking forward to. I never did get to tell you how gorgeous it was on the way out. Gorgeous. Poetry gorgeous.

I'm also looking forward to getting mail when I get back to my little town, and to the dogs running up the driveway, and to settling down to some real writing.

Pam had an article in the Sunday NY Times. Check it out here for a little more about Creede.

Glad a Vermont weekend was FINALLY relaxing!

The View from Here... or Rather, There

Fall foliage in effect on our way back from New Hampshire

So this weekend in Vermont was actually... prepare yourself for it... relaxing!

We drove up Friday night and got in at a very respectable time, drank some mint tea and went to bed.

It rained all day Saturday so we visited neighbors, drove to New Hampshire, did laundry, cooked and watched the X-men III movie. And spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling, praying our new roof wouldn't leak.

And it didn't!

Today, I did yoga, Euge helped a neighbor install a new heating system, we both watched a movie and drove home. Dialing our way through all the talk radio that I could find on the AM bandwidth.

Why oh why is there not more talk radio on FM? And why does NPR have to go to global music every time I am driving home? Couldn't I have Car Talk or This American Life or The Glorious Table?

Anyways, I am sure we did some other stuff today, but really there was just a lot of relaxing going on.

Oh, right, I did more laundry. See how much you and I, and our rural lifestyles, have in common?

So, pretty much all I have to share are some photos of foliage and the assessment that, as a former employee of Marvel comics, and former girlfriend of an X-men writer, and former X-men addict, and current fan of Hugh Jackman (yum!), the X-men III movie sucked royally.

Not that I thought you were going to watch it anyways. I just thought you might like to know.

Anyways, here's yet another photo of the house only, this time, from the other side of the pond. See if you can see it up on the hill with its shiny new roof!

This is actually taken from our property on the other side of the pond. And we own all of the pond in the middle. Yup, we own lots of pond.

My New Do

Me and Donna - who cut more of her hair off than I did

So, I know you won't be there when we get to Seattle, so I don't want you to get all panicked when Mom or Dad calls and says something about how I cut all of my fabulous bushy hair off.

sidenote: why do people always describe my hair as bushy as though that were a complement?

I have not cut all of my hair off. Only a lot of it.

I am not revisiting the late nineties mullet-esque Vidal Sassoon catastrophe and I am certainly not back into the very short phase of my early teens. No no no!

I have merely reduced the volume somewhat and taken off about half a foot. It's light and kind of feathery - sometimes if I work hard enough it even kinda looks like Madonna's current do.

Not that it is a precurser to my adoption of a small child either.

It's just a haircut. Just a haircut that takes ten minutes less to dry and doesn't look like it's been chewed on by rabid dogs. That's all.

Just a new do.

Thought you might like to know. Since you're in heaven and everything.

Thank You Pam Houston, I Have Died and Gone To Writer's Heaven

I almost wrote "Thank You God... etc" as the title of this post, but then I realized I should really thank the one who is directly responsible for the heaven I now find myself in. Maybe God has something to do with it, maybe not. But we know Pam does.

Holy Shit, this conference is good. Good. Good food, beautiful beautiful setting. That's the least of it. Look up the writers who are here, every one of them is amazing. That's as articulate as I can get about it now. I have to go do my work for tomorrow.

This photo is from the night we got lost on the way from the airport to the conference with the poet Dorianne Laux and took 6 hours to do a drive that should have taken an hour and a half. It was one of the most fun nights I've ever had. In. My. Life. And she is a damn good poet. Check out Vacation Sex.