Things to consider (or not)

A new project to ogle (or not) is up on this very site. It's called Dreams and it's a journal of my dreams and the images I've Googled from them.

I'm on day 7 of an anti-inflammatory cleanse. And despite all the things I cannot have, I'm feeling less groggy, less irascible, less bloated in the toes and armpits. The cleanse was carefully curated by my friend Cally. If you are interested in doing something similar for your innards, check out her website HERE.

Beckett is now saying things to me like My hands are not available when I ask her to help me carry something up the stairs. Three year olds are assholes.

My manchowder, Michael T. Hensley has a big show opening this coming Thursday at the Linda Hodges Gallery in Seattle. He delivered the paintings today so Beckett and I have been having one giant dance party accompanied by this doo wop version of Neil Young.

A dream

It's dark. I'm in an outdoor airport waiting for someone (I don't know who) in the snow. I don't have a coat on, but feel warm and comfortable. My grandma Dot is with me. She asks me questions about what's been going on in my life. Work. Art. Knee. Volcanos. Mothering. I tell her very little. I tell her that I love her and ask her to climb inside a black SUV with me. The seats are leather. The steering wheel is cold. It smells like a combination of stale cigarettes and farts - the smell of my father's cars. I start the car. My mother is in the back seat. Grandma Dot is in the front seat. The car moves forward, onto ice, onto snow and into the face of a mountain. I pull up on the wheel and somehow save us all from crashing.

Bliss monkey

We are in Pahoa, a sleepy little town just outside of Hilo on the island of Hawaii. I swim. I wander. I allow the incessant hum of obligation to seep into the ether.

Thankful for this privilege. I am.