tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28122541880160885462012-02-02T10:18:21.850-08:00Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.comBlogger5001100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-56859470365347932412012-02-01T20:52:00.000-08:002012-02-01T20:52:36.336-08:00

As of February 1, 2012, come read us at our new, very own url: www.theforceexpansive.com.  So exciting, so pretty, so grown-up!

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-69482466475227767352012-02-01T06:32:00.000-08:002012-02-01T06:32:31.509-08:00

This, right here, is what I'm talking about. An article about some Sausalito school children recording an album of world music in a studio owned by former member of [i refuse to use their name] is front-page news over here.  An album made by children gets more space than rail, an issue that affects not just Marin but also Sonoma Counties. An album of world music, for heaven's sake.  Seriously?

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-1765174529302938982012-01-31T05:53:00.000-08:002012-01-31T05:53:10.055-08:00

Turning the package over and over in my hands, I wondered what it was I'd ordered from Amazon that had just shown up, leaned against the front gate, left for me to discover upon my return from work.  I'm pretty good about ordering judiciously, keeping my huge book appetite in check so that I've only got a small To Read stack waiting for me here at home, while the mental stack remains miles high.

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-72506406717837620422012-01-30T06:43:00.000-08:002012-01-30T06:55:17.265-08:00

"Don't Be a Jerk When Your Friend has Cancer," recently posted on Elephant Journal and re-shared by my friend and writing teacher, Susanna Harwood Rubin, provides 6 practical tips for friends of cancer patients, 6 tips to avoid jerkdom.  Danielle Foushee, the writer, is an artist and yoga teacher who was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in November 2011.  Look at her art on her website.  She's

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-135698944977941162012-01-29T08:43:00.000-08:002012-01-29T08:43:00.580-08:00

What's crazy is that it's never too late to change things, never too late to make new habits, never too late to look around and say, hot damn, this is really great and let's make it even better.  After a night playing cards and laughing with friends, waking up in my own cozy bed with puppy and husband was never sweeter.  And then getting up, having lemon water, then coffee (with milk in it!) and

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-65347093410849533482012-01-28T13:48:00.000-08:002012-01-28T13:51:47.981-08:00

This must qualify as a rite of passage in a woman's life, that day when you realize that you can't rock the same super-intense shade of lipstick you've worn for almost sixteen years.  When you realize that that beloved shade that you've worn out and replaced countless times over the years, is no longer doing you any favors -- is making the lines around your lips a little more pronounced, making

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-77526002549520545402012-01-27T07:06:00.000-08:002012-01-27T07:14:47.500-08:00

Smoothie 7? Check! OK, so as I mentioned elsewhere, this was a tough morning, one on which I nearly caved and made myself a delectable slice of toast.  Which would be completely absurd considering that I'm almost done, have almost completed this 7-day body cleanse de-tox that I embarked on last Saturday with the wonderful Dr. Kate Tenney, ND.  How silly would that be, to bail when the finish

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-38047231485564044592012-01-26T07:01:00.000-08:002012-01-26T07:05:16.761-08:00

Crazy, I start a detox cleanse and promptly stop posting here.  Is blogging toxic?  Have I been eliminating it from my system along with all other accumulated crap that's been in there? Truth is that I have been writing but not finishing things.  I felt pretty spacey the first three days, fine on Day 4, more focused on Day 5.  Oh, and on Day 5 I forgot to eat lunch -- just got too busy at my job

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-49933164754382130282012-01-22T09:16:00.000-08:002012-01-22T09:24:52.496-08:00

It's Morning #2 of the 7-day cleanse I'm doing, and may I just say I am feeling super-weird. Day 1 was easier than I expected, especially since I had that Board meeting from 8am to 2pm, and some worry in the back of my head that I'd be excusing myself to the toilet every 5 minutes for cleanse-induced reasons. But no, it was completely fine. I didn't feel hungry, really, until around dinner,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-10531846326506543392012-01-21T07:16:00.000-08:002012-01-21T07:16:32.071-08:00

Today is the first morning of the 7-day cleanse I'm doing.  My wrist-alarm woke me at 6, since I knew I'd need time to check off tasks associated with Aforementioned Cleanse (AC) before leaving for work at 7:30.  Sure, it's Saturday, but I have to be at a Board meeting at 8 this morning for my job, make a 5-minute presentation sometime between 9 and noon and then get back to the stuff weekends

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-691264145497405302012-01-20T06:52:00.000-08:002012-01-20T06:52:17.361-08:00

Well, I finally caved.  In a matter of hours, I managed to hit the limit of free articles on the New York Times website and so have now been forced to pay for what was once free.  Right now it's hard to complain about it -- 99 cents for 4 weeks -- but soon it will go up, in four weeks it will go up, to the equivalent of paper delivery.  But since I have been reading the Times for so long,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-23254114987526526262012-01-19T18:21:00.000-08:002012-01-19T18:21:05.876-08:00

In the span of just one week, I'm going from this glistening tower of chocolatey goodness eaten at one of my three birthdays dinners this past weekend: To this: Yes, on Saturday, January 21st, I'm beginning a 7-day detox and body cleanse with the fabulous Dr. Kate Tenney, my friend and also a Naturopathic Doctor with a practice in Tiburon, CA.   I've never done something like this, although

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-80226065195931745802012-01-18T06:55:00.000-08:002012-01-18T06:55:05.590-08:00

Fortunately the night-before-last was the coldest we've had all winter.  I say, fortunately because I forgot the tulips I'd bought in the back of my car where they spent the night, completely out of sight and mind, until I got to work yesterday morning.  And remembered my new resolve to have fresh flowers on my desk. You see, I'm trying to make my environs as beautiful as possible this year,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-40029138830474961882012-01-17T07:40:00.000-08:002012-01-17T07:40:12.301-08:00

I heard Martha Beck speak at an Oprah Winfrey event, O, in San Francisco in October 2008. Two of my dearest friends and I made a weekend out of it: we booked a hotel, got in Friday night, had a shopping blitz, dinner, drinks and amazing conversation with strangers at our downtown SF hotel, where we barely slept a wink thanks to the almost constant sound of sirens. It didn't matter. Those were

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-52894953486897762392012-01-16T14:25:00.000-08:002012-01-16T14:35:49.754-08:00

Our friend John has naturally very curly hair.  A parent in his kids' school always insists that John has a perm.  When John says, ‘No, my hair’s just like this,” the guy invariably retorts, “No. That’s a perm.”   They’ve had this exchange multiple times, and what makes us all laugh when we ask for the story to be re-told, is the guy’s certainty that he’s right about John’s hair and that John’s

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-54925087047872189742012-01-15T17:02:00.000-08:002012-01-15T17:03:59.706-08:00

Apparently it's not enough to lay out a two-page Chart for each new year.  Maybe it used to be enough, but then it growed.  A few years ago a theme emerged when I reviewed all the items in each labeled section.  Then, thanks to Laura Christensen, the Chart grew a sutra, too, a short easily-memorized phrase that summed it all up for me, that when repeated would bring me back, in an instant, to the

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-12969405427769028282012-01-15T11:11:00.000-08:002012-01-15T12:11:55.562-08:00

Before I say another word, I’d like to acknowledge my enormous debt of gratitude to Michelle Marchildon for her genius “Thank You is the new F* You.” Sister, deep pranams to you for the radical and instantaneous e-nlightment of that post. Now, to the rest of you currently writing and expressing the opinion that injury is caused by ego, let me say, as an injured person, that you can all go Thank

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-32246059174417123022012-01-12T15:08:00.000-08:002012-01-12T15:08:00.856-08:00

The thing about making up games is that you get to make up the rules.  I don't know about you, but when we were kids making up games, making up the rules took the most time and it generally seemed true that playing the game was less fun than that whole process of creating the construct of the game. And it's still the same. The rules might be the funnest part. In my Days Without Incident 2012

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-64774030884716227032012-01-12T05:54:00.000-08:002012-01-12T05:54:16.273-08:00

Losing Jasper last year, may he rest in tremendous doggy peace, was the biggest heartbreak I have ever known. Even now writing about it, almost a year later, I can barely see the damn laptop screen through my own tears.  I have never ceased missing him, even as the charming and ridiculously cute Mr Burns has come along to fill the enormous void left by Jasper's passing.  And oh how Mr Burns does

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-88312690079068444082012-01-11T18:56:00.000-08:002012-01-11T18:56:17.768-08:00

I have spent most of my life feeling stupid.   I said, feeling stupid, so that means there's no point you arguing with me about it.  It's the worst feeling in the world for me.  Absolutely unbearable.  And also, unfortunately, super familiar. Now instead of feeling stupid at school, which is where I perfected my early-life stupid, I feel stupid constantly at  my job.  It's pretty amazing.  I

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-63044317969621964362012-01-10T07:35:00.000-08:002012-01-10T07:35:14.687-08:00

All things considered, I am not too unhappy to make the acquaintance of The Piriformis Syndrome.  Given I already know Herniated Disc quite well, having married and divorced that asshole about 13 years ago, after a fling with microsurgery, yes, Piriformis Syndrome is not too shabby. If nothing else, it gives new meaning to having a pain in the ass and/or being a tight ass.   And makes me snicker

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-86979929985237954562012-01-07T15:30:00.000-08:002012-01-07T15:30:39.439-08:00

Woody Guthrie's resolutions for 1942 have been making the rounds for a few weeks. In case you didn't see them, they go like this.  I love that they're handwritten, along with doodles, at the middle of the book, and include beating fascism and wearing clean clothes. It got me to thinking about how interesting it would be to see certain people's resolutions at key moments in their lives.  These

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-53145487728680649222012-01-05T06:41:00.000-08:002012-01-05T06:47:25.928-08:00

Maybe you know this story already.  It's kind of old, from 2003 -- the story of Ming, a 400-pound, 2-year-old tiger, kept as a pet in a 5th floor apartment in Harlem.  I stumbled across the story through some bizarre route that I can't re-create, in a series of photos called New York's Urban Jungle on the New York Daily News.  From there I googled onward, hungry for details.  Delicious!  In my

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-90901595991323539902012-01-04T19:01:00.000-08:002012-01-04T19:01:38.482-08:00

Ever since an early 70s New Year's Eve parked in the living room of friends of my parents, wishing they'd just left me and my sisters home instead of making us go to these weird people's house and hang around with their weird kids while the grown-ups all laughed too loud about inane things like the eggplant, leaving us to be bored silly by the only thing their tiny black-and-white television

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-18925443421679910222012-01-04T07:03:00.000-08:002012-01-04T07:03:50.140-08:00

I've probably got a couple more posts in my system this month regarding resolutions, so if you're sick of the subject, consider this fair warning.  In my opinion, resolutions get a bad rap, so I'm staying in my corner, cheering, wishing their beneficial effects for all. Maybe the problem is the word.  Resolutions is so non-specific and tired.  As you can see at left, I prefer the word Plans. I

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-7391538406207422902012-01-03T19:27:00.000-08:002012-01-03T19:27:15.637-08:00

My grandmother was right. My mother, too. And guess what: it's not just me and my people. Your grandmother and your mother? Yep, they were right, too. For years I scoffed at what my mother and grandmother said: that if I kept on making that face, it would freeze and then what would I do? How would I like to always look like that, making that ugly face? At the time, I just figured this

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-6333313775599758092012-01-02T18:48:00.000-08:002012-01-02T18:48:03.112-08:00

that's right: made that, yo! I'm so not doing a whole Julie and Julia thing with the new autographed Cook's Illustrated cookbook my parents gave me for Christmas -- that is, I am not planning to cook every recipe and blog about the results, on my tidy little way to a book deal and movie starring Meryl Streep. It's unlikely that that route to fame and fortune will ever work for anyone again,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-64313125317561272352012-01-02T05:00:00.000-08:002012-01-03T18:18:38.751-08:00

There's a scene towards the beginning of The 40 Year Old Virgin when Steve Carrell's character asks his very handsome and dapper colleague for advice on how to be more attractive. I've mimicked his colleague's response -- both the words and the gestures -- countless times since I first saw it. Really, it's that good. I mean, look, dude. You think this, all of this, was an accident?  All of

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-67812603301931828522012-01-01T19:04:00.000-08:002012-01-01T19:04:23.364-08:00

I start every new year the same way: I buy a new notebook; I set a theme and make my  multi-page chart of goals/resolutions/ wishes; and  -- favoritest of all --  I shelf all the books I read in the past year.   All year long I stack the books up as I finish them, first on the floating shelf next to my bed, then on the floor below.  I used to measure how high the stack grew, but now I don't care

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-21081326208670528532011-12-31T16:43:00.000-08:002011-12-31T16:43:24.283-08:00

Whatever 2012 brings, I'm ready.  I've got my new Moleskin all set to start the year bright and early tomorrow morning, ready to go with awesome semi-rad sticker occupying prime real estate on the front cover.  And yes, Eunice, I'm back to Moleskin, despite the Prop 65 warning that popped up on these notebooks on-line recently.  If my notebook gives me cancer, so freakin' be it. Someone posted

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-78011003469328466422011-12-31T10:39:00.000-08:002011-12-31T10:49:54.686-08:00

Maybe it's wrong, but: - I can't help how much I fall in love with people when they use really good words easily in a sentence.  I am still thinking about the fabulous Nicole, working magic with my hair, discussing her favorite books of 2011, trotting out métier re Patti Smith and poetry. I didn't hear the two sentences after that, dizzy with delight, savoring the word. Delicious. - I also

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-88151205785890214692011-12-28T07:39:00.000-08:002011-12-28T07:39:20.840-08:00

if only it read, AdvanceD Reader's... A few weeks ago, I was invited to join to the From Left to Write book club as a contributor. By "invited to join" I mean that they accepted my application -- it's not as though I was discovered...  That would be sweet, but instead the truth is that I heard about them via a Martha Beck post on Facebook and, intrigued by what I read on their site, applied.  

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-60228871651386555402011-12-22T07:53:00.000-08:002011-12-22T07:53:21.991-08:00

That these two titles arrived on my doorstep in the same box makes me pretty happy.  Of course I am the one who placed the order, so it wasn't a surprise, rather something I've been looking forward to since last week.  Something about pushing back the cardboard flaps of their container and seeing them, tucked in together sweetly, harmoniously sharing an essential color scheme, really made me feel

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-68138899370061711632011-12-20T07:29:00.000-08:002011-12-20T07:29:41.208-08:00

Among the things I do that my spouse finds incomprehensible, possibly reprehensible, is the purchasing, collecting and display of stuffed animals.  Animals skulls, that's OK, but toys are gross somehow. For a while, my menagerie was lined up along the window seat in our room, next to my side of the bed, where I could look at them arrayed just so, otter next to hippo next to goat next to gorilla.

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-61718145119170571922011-12-19T06:34:00.000-08:002011-12-19T06:34:07.185-08:00

Every December, as I stand and watch, jumping around, possibly clapping, Joe brings down the red and white Christmas box from the rafters in the garage.   Without a child in the house and now that I've decided for all time that I can't kill a tree for the holiday, the Christmas display is decidedly smaller, more compact, distilled to its very essence. Gone are the days of a 6-foot tree, draped in

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-85293067132849715652011-12-17T10:11:00.000-08:002011-12-17T10:19:34.375-08:00

I just had my annual eye exam on my one-year anniversary of needing and wearing glasses.  Everyone my family wears glasses; my kid wears glasses, but I thought I'd go through life without them, forever.  Not so.  Last year, motivated by my father's macular degeneration and my sudden inability to see the words I myself was writing on a Mammalogy final exam, I sat myself down at Lenscrafters, let

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-91082885037961446532011-12-16T06:45:00.000-08:002011-12-16T06:45:14.820-08:00

A dear friend posted the following quote, which I adore, to commemorate the passing of Christopher Hitchens, formidable thinker and prolific writer:We have the same job we always had: to say that there are no final solutions; there is no absolute truth; there is no supreme leader; there is no totalitarian solution that says if you would just give up your freedom of inquiry, if you would just give

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-48776325022657364162011-12-15T06:51:00.000-08:002011-12-15T06:51:35.009-08:00

Oh my goodness. Goodness. Good.  This is this morning's refrain, the words and sensations circulating through me as I reflect on yesterday's visit with my sister and her family. It was so much better than I expected, so good in so many ways, so simple and easy. And oh my goodness, my niece Elizabeth is exactly like Carla was at her age: adorable, open, playful, affectionate, chatty,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-44021335355690559392011-12-14T06:29:00.000-08:002011-12-14T06:29:30.782-08:00

thanks, new super-functional watch! Last Friday I inaugurated a new personal practice, launched a bold new initiative which so far is yielding tremendous results: I started getting up on the weekdays at 4:30 am.   This is not a huge change -- for years I've gotten up at 5:30 -- so for all you shaking your heads and groaning and feeling a little ill, I tell you that for me, a confirmed

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-15700845414179079612011-12-13T06:16:00.000-08:002011-12-13T06:17:17.273-08:00

Carla and baby Elizabeth, 2008 Three years ago my little sister Carla took her place as Number Nine on the list of people with brain tumors on my mother's side, the Ortiz-Argumedo Karg side, of the family.  I scribbled down this list on my aunt Monina's birthday a month ago, a day spent with Monina and my parents, hanging around, asking questions, listening to them talk, pawing through boxes

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-43639449667071863972011-12-09T06:06:00.000-08:002011-12-09T06:09:35.749-08:00

This week I devoted around an hour, ignoring the complaints of my spouse, to watching "The Biggest Loser" on TiVo.  An ad for it must have come on while I was watching the evening news or something; intrigued and horrified, I set it to record.  And I'm so glad I did.  Look, sure: I could have done something possibly more "productive" with that hour of my life. I could have read a book, which I

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-71602590209228998722011-12-06T18:11:00.000-08:002011-12-06T18:11:21.362-08:00

Generally, I don't go 40 hours between meals. But in preparation for yesterday morning's combo-platter of endoscopy and colonoscopy, I went without food for a long time. And naturally, as anyone who's experienced this personally knows, I also had the fun of drinking 4 liters of purgative swill. It was a singularly disgusting experience, one I wouldn't wish on anyone else, friend or enemy. I

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-6552349874678157252011-12-05T12:12:00.000-08:002011-12-05T12:12:16.107-08:00

Honestly, I adore Louis CK.  So funny and so consistently on the mark.  He's so right: everything's amazing, nobody's happy. Next time you're on an airplane, consider that you're sitting in a chair IN THE SKY.  Amazing!

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-8680844764639883182011-12-04T15:24:00.000-08:002011-12-04T15:24:03.514-08:00

When I first moved to the suburbs all those years ago, I had some difficulty adjusting to strangers talking to me in the supermarket.  I'm not saying I had such a hard-ass urban upbringing, but really, it wasn't something I was used to, this total strangers saying things to me, things like Good Morning or Can you believe this heat we're having?  My initial reaction was bristly, my hedgehog spines

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-18112823398397532982011-11-30T08:47:00.000-08:002011-11-30T08:47:10.899-08:00

We have a rule in our house. Actually, it's more accurate to say I have a rule in our house, a personal rule that I've imposed, making it a defacto house rule: if you absolutely must talk about a dream you had, then you have 15 seconds, no more no less, in which to do so. Fifteen seconds, I'm not kidding.  The clock is ticking. Go. This forces the speaker to drop all superfluous "it was our

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-53287990342705354782011-11-28T09:23:00.000-08:002011-11-28T09:23:22.698-08:00

I am going to do everything possible to keep these words right in front of my eyes for the next few weeks, keep the image in my pocket like a rabbit's foot and pet it periodically,  its furry comfort at my fingertips. Even if you think horoscopes are crap, right now this is so working for me.  Really, really just SO on the money. http://freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/capricorn.html

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-43252361230051561482011-11-28T07:46:00.000-08:002011-11-28T07:46:51.903-08:00

It's not the elephants that'll kill you. It's the gnats. So goes the punchline of a story I carry around inside me, a story told to me by someone to whom it was told. I don't think I read it somewhere, but honestly, after all this time I don't even know any more. A friend returns from safari in Africa and, asked about the dangers of the wild, responds, "it's not the elephants that'll kill you.  

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-45692669377559295552011-11-17T09:19:00.000-08:002011-11-17T10:13:27.817-08:00

As anyone with kids can attest, they are somehow magically their very neediest in the morning if you have a hang-over. Or morning sickness. It's like some kind of irritating prescience they have. At the point at which you are your weakest, your very own neediest, there they go with their pain-in-the-ass demands for attention and breakfast. So it was this morning with Puppy. Normally he

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-78159672484984004652011-11-12T10:55:00.000-08:002011-11-12T10:55:20.075-08:00

me and my brother Not so long ago I got this idea to have my chart read. I'm of mixed emotions about this -- on the one hand, it's funny to live here and not have had it done, since it's the sort of thing one hears mentioned in normal, everyday conversation fairly regularly (I know, a function of my particular environment); on the other, while I am sure there is something to be gained from it

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-83946622195146028542011-11-11T05:17:00.000-08:002011-11-11T06:25:53.177-08:00

photo credit: The Baltimore Chop I was going to write a whole thing about 11/11/11 11:11 since it's apparently de rigueur, but then, as things go when I'm awake in the middle of the night and reading and eating toast, stumbled on something that I think is more interesting. Related and more interesting. So today is supposed to be a super-auspicious and romantic day. Tons of people apparently

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-36107198498508255232011-11-10T06:50:00.000-08:002011-11-10T06:50:23.637-08:00

Twenty four years ago, when I myself was 24, I was in my last days of being extremely pregnant. I was absolutely side-show enormous, pushing past the very outer limits of maternity wear. By then, I think I lived in one of my Uncle Ben's large plaid shirts, an XL long-sleeve thermal top and black leggings with a forgiving waistband. I also lived in my Uncle Ben's former house near San Francisco

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-71684959490534412142011-11-09T06:53:00.000-08:002011-11-09T06:53:46.896-08:00

This week's assignment from writing class is to write about little things we love. We were asked, on our call on Monday, to make a list of tiny objects we love. Strangely, I got a little hung up after Jasper's tag, my blue lotus earrings, my notebook, the photo of The Kid at a May Day celebration at Waldorf School, his grinning baby face wreathed in flowers. This morning the little thing I am

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-65310250419739326002011-11-08T06:54:00.000-08:002011-11-08T07:03:17.156-08:00

If there's one thing I hate to shop for, it's definitely toilet paper. I tend to avoid it, but this past weekend was so proud of myself that I managed to buy more *before* we ran out, something which probably doesn't seem like it should rank as any kind of achievement when you're nearing 50 years of age, but in my case, unfortunately, does. There's just something about standing in that row in

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-73481832682891014942011-11-06T12:13:00.000-08:002011-11-06T12:13:45.423-08:00

favorite things Perhaps because we changed the clocks back to Real Time last night [daylight "savings" time is a pet peeve], I am having the most luxurious, languid Sunday.  Woke up on my own, before 7, and it was light out.  I could see the marvel of our yard, the morning light on Jasper's stone across from our room.  Mr Burns was curled up between us on the bed.  I felt fine. When's the

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-49938026860120587032011-11-05T10:07:00.000-07:002011-11-05T10:10:58.399-07:00

It took about one minute. All of one minute for me to realize what an idiot I'd been. We were on a break. I admit it was one-sided. It was all me deciding for this break, needing some space, some distance, some breathing room. I'd had a few unsettling experiences of observing myself going through the motions. Oh dear. Really? It all seemed so silly, laughable even. What was I doing? So

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-24090657766062435152011-11-04T10:01:00.000-07:002011-11-04T10:01:07.039-07:00

My delightful friend Jen uses this expression, "fat for me."  She's a yoga teacher and personal trainer and someone who is starting her own wellness coaching business, and is all-around gorgeous -- and yet she, like the rest of us, struggles with weight and body image, etc.  One day as we were driving to yoga together, she was telling a story and described her sense of herself at that moment as "

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-51981993270510560572011-11-03T20:29:00.000-07:002011-11-03T20:30:51.933-07:00

We just got home from puppy class and I'm sitting here feeling sad that our six-week course is already over.  The full truth is that that hour has been the highlight of my week for the last few weeks. I have more thoroughly enjoyed that hour-long experience of being in a room with other puppies and their people and our genial teacher Erica than really truly anything that's happened to me for a

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-255269095666789812011-10-30T07:00:00.000-07:002011-10-30T07:00:02.475-07:00

Because, as you know from prior post, I've been a little bit obsessed with The Murakami lately and been reading about him, immersing myself and preparing to read 1Q84, I wanted to re-post this bit from a speech he gave in Jerusalem in February 2009, where he'd travelled to accept a prize as part of the Jerusalem International Book Fair. Probably what I love about this piece, about his analogy,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-29051656737646612932011-10-29T13:17:00.000-07:002011-10-29T13:34:48.970-07:00

For a while I've been considering whether an e-reader is in my future. Converted friends who are big readers swear by them, but I've been unwilling to let go of the sensory experience of the book -- the feel of the pages, the look of the type, the design of the book itself.  Right now, for example, I'm reading Amitav Ghosh's latest, River of Smoke, in hardback, and every time I turn a page, I am

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-29124552572961635302011-10-25T07:45:00.000-07:002011-10-25T07:45:53.507-07:00

It's a sweet break, the time I take out of the middle of Mondays to attend, by phone, Writing Your Practice.  It isn't easy, in my new wage-slave status, to block the time, but I've been successful so far three of the four classes, successfully slipping out the door, driving the three blocks to the shop where an empty office awaits me.  I love being there, sitting at a folding table on a

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-91180051601406346862011-10-23T12:32:00.000-07:002011-10-23T16:48:45.054-07:00

Credit: the fabulous Bernadette Birney Not everybody knows that I have two sisters.  To hear me talk, you'd think I only have one, since I only really talk about one, my adorable brilliant sister who lives in Brooklyn.  She and I are literally cut from the same cloth; there is much solace in that all the time.  No matter how much geographic space divides us, we're always connected.  It's really

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-82577737303976349412011-10-19T06:52:00.000-07:002011-10-19T06:52:30.487-07:00

desk puja ;> This glorious day, I declared to a colleague earlier this morning, bursting with joy, is entirely made possible for me by Ambien. Yes, it's true. Today is my first day of no-heachache after four days of headache.  It wasn't a life-destroying migraine, but a persistent, nagging, joy-suck of a pain that made everything less-pleasant for four days.  Starting Friday morning, all

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-13690722527603864352011-10-17T06:00:00.000-07:002011-10-17T06:00:00.785-07:00

I am so grateful to Katrina for posting this poem by Rumi the other day.  Whether it's Allah you cry out to or the trees: still, give your life.  Be a love dog. One night a man was crying, “Allah, Allah!” His lips grew sweet with the praising, until a cynic said, “So! I have heard you calling out, but have you ever gotten any response?” The man had no answer for that. He quit praying and fell

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-58174332283914536092011-10-16T13:43:00.000-07:002011-10-16T13:43:39.008-07:00

foam, white While thinking about the homework for Writing Your Practice -- this week focused on Nataraja -- I started cooking.  In my notes of the call, I see that obstacles in the way of my own steady practice of writing include my own perceived laziness, my lack of disciplined schedule, my feeling that I'm constantly juggling too many things.  So, while cooking, I decided to just do that one

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-8140038765572474202011-10-14T07:18:00.000-07:002011-10-14T07:18:00.435-07:00

We're only days away from the announcement of the winner of the Man Booker Prize for 2011.  I look forward to this every year.  I can't wait to hear who, of the writers represented above, wins it. I've read just one of the above so far (Jamrach's Menagerie - loved it!), but plan to read my way through the whole small stack.  The Booker Prize nominees are invariably good, sometimes

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-13094251594998443492011-10-13T07:14:00.000-07:002011-10-13T07:37:35.828-07:00

It's ironic.   A few weeks ago I received my first-ever business cards, cards I made for the business of me, not for me in my paid-job, but for the things that I do, that I wish to do more of, that  I wish were the only things I do all day.  I love these little cards.  The backs are images from my own photos.  Describing myself was easy: writer. beekeeper. yogini. Making the cards was part of an

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-7230559176276883732011-10-12T07:35:00.000-07:002011-10-12T07:35:03.665-07:00

At lunch yesterday a colleague had just finished telling the story of her last dog.  I'd mentioned that we adopted a puppy recently, which sent her into her story.  Her dog was a problem dog who first bit the mail carrier, then their neighbor.  This was a dog who would lunge to the limit of his leash at people.  Finally, after he killed the family's two pet rabbits, they decided it was high time

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-43690115191452174652011-10-08T22:12:00.000-07:002011-10-08T22:12:41.967-07:00

Our boy Burns, Roger (brown), Jesse (b&w) I am such a nerd for school that I am even nerding out over puppy class.  We've had two so far in the series of six, and already, as is my wont, I am thinking about signing up for more beyond this first course.  We did this same puppy training, called Sirius, with Jasper, and it's even better this time through.  We received a companion book and DVD in

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-77975016546331913862011-10-08T11:37:00.000-07:002011-10-08T11:37:17.754-07:00

This week's practices with Laura have been about tapasya, the element of fire, as in the fire that motivates you to do stuff.  We were encouraged in class to stoke our inner fire and to maintain it at a sustainable level -- after all, the fire shouldn't be so hot that we burn out, right?  I admit that Tuesday night's class with this theme was a bit of struggle for me -- I had difficulty in some

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-82768025918028828672011-10-06T07:29:00.000-07:002011-10-06T07:45:12.453-07:00

"I'm just totally awestruck, a bit shocked, a bit surprised," Wozniak, 61, said in an interview today with Bloomberg Television's Susan Li on the "Asia Edge" program. "I did not expect it. It felt a lot like you just heard that, you know, John Lennon got shot, or JFK, or Martin Luther King."  - Steve Wozniak, co-founder with Steve Jobs of Apple Computer. [read more]The news of Steve Jobs' death

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-27372861355403073052011-10-05T07:41:00.000-07:002011-10-05T07:41:51.388-07:00

Writing Your Practice, the writing course my sister and I are enrolled in, has begun.  Our first tele-class was Monday.  Even the time that we were on the call was precious to me.  I was at the shop, in one of the vacant offices upstairs -- the one I secretly dream is my permanent office, will be my permanent office.  For a little while Mr Burns was with me, having recently mastered the stairs (

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-66270961207434110572011-10-02T11:43:00.000-07:002011-10-02T11:43:51.772-07:00

Oh frabjous day, being home all day on a Saturday and Sunday: so sweet, especially after the super-busy of last weekend when we were hardly ever together.  Not to mention that I'm delighted it's October --  really, truly my favorite month of the year.  I love the way the air smells and feels, the crunch of leaves underfoot in the woods, the end of the intense gardening season and the transition

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-63991455499060749782011-10-01T14:02:00.000-07:002011-10-01T14:13:10.352-07:00

My genius sister and I are starting a writing course together on Monday and, as such, have been added to a secret group on Facebook.  The word *secret* is cracking me up. Shhhhh, don't tell anyone.   All it really means is that those of us in the Secret Group are the only ones who can see the activities, posts, members of the Secret Group.  Still, shhhhhhh, it's a secret!!  I'm really looking

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-78035662275043893212011-09-29T07:12:00.000-07:002011-09-29T07:15:53.036-07:00

All year long, I've been wanting to say that I've crossed an important threshold.  Sometime in January, I passed the halfway point -- I've now been a mother for half of my life, with every passing minute more than half.  I was 24 when pregnant with The Kid, he'll be 24 in two months.  Maybe this doesn't matter at all, but for me, it feels a little significant to know that I've been This more

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-65251907120156767942011-09-28T08:05:00.000-07:002011-09-28T08:05:30.622-07:00

My delightful friend, Peggy, has a life I covet.  I may be way off-base, but the way I think about it, she basically does two things: yoga and reading.  OK, and eating really good food, too.  And hiking and traveling and savoring every bit of joy there is.  Peggy has a love for life that is unmatched by anyone else I have ever met in my entire life, except maybe my parents -- and that is saying a

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-60227830023690520532011-09-27T09:47:00.000-07:002011-09-27T09:47:01.463-07:00

I am so seldom home in the mornings that I miss my absolute favorite time here on a regular basis.  Today I'm finally, finally taking a day off to rest and finally try and get better from the head-cold that's plagued me for a week.  It's completely ridiculous the degree to which I'll go to ignore feeling bad, to keep going when my body is pulling the brake.  But even though I woke up on Monday a

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-51242650118241165852011-09-26T20:33:00.000-07:002011-09-26T20:33:47.897-07:00

I just submitted this story to More magazine. Which is a magazine I picked up in the dentist office this morning, because Naomi Watts is on the cover and there was an article about migraines.  Lo and behold, about 15 pages in, was an invitation to submit pieces to their site.  We'll see what happens.  Read it here first. ;> * * * * * “You learn something new every day, Norman Wong.” This is a

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-39625293494273895722011-09-25T19:56:00.000-07:002011-09-25T19:57:13.604-07:00

This was one of those weekends when I'm really glad that my partner and I each have our own consuming passions.  Some people might call these activities of ours "hobbies," but we know they are so very much more than that. Basically, if I subtract the hours we spent sleeping, then probably we've seen each other for at most 9 hours since early Friday morning. It's Sunday evening and it's just me,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-83257010088456767172011-09-25T11:46:00.000-07:002011-09-25T11:46:17.270-07:00

As we were leaving hour 9 of a weekend-long Tantric philosophy and asana workshop, as we were happily babbling our way to the car, Jen commented on how very many hours we devote to this practice on a regular, daily, weekly basis.  Is there anything else under the sun we would choose to do for 12 hours a weekend?   All assembled marveled at how happy we are to do so, to sit for hours on end,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-83969634227463370012011-09-23T07:28:00.000-07:002011-09-23T07:28:38.142-07:00

Mr Burns It's pretty weird to be sitting here typing and eating toast, as usual, while Mr Burns remains utterly sacked out, asleep under the covers in my bed, all the way down the hall.  I suppose having only had one dog in my adult life, the gorgeous and fantastic Jasper, I made Jasper the measure of all dogs -- assumed that all dogs would sit attentively and closely by my side all through

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-29028216618868558782011-09-22T06:50:00.000-07:002011-09-22T06:50:20.292-07:00

I keep thinking about the yellow pencil in my sisters' Hello Kitty miniature colored pencil set.  Along its tiny length, it read, "Yellow is fried egg."  I haven't seen that pencil in probably 25 years (until I found its image on the interwebs), but the words are still with me.  I love the unlikely construction, and the funny choice of fried egg.  Of course, yes, it's true -- yellow is fried egg,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-25571396533744555412011-09-18T21:40:00.000-07:002011-09-18T21:40:38.175-07:00

We are positively in heaven now that Mr Burns is our boy.  He is super-sweet, affectionate, devoted, smart, 90% housetrained, outgoing.  He is so different from Jasper, and yet it's as though we are starting with Mr Burns at the point where Jasper left off.  All his life, we wanted Jas to be a snuggle-bunny.  For most of his years, he emphatically was not.  He'd get up on the bed with us, but if

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-18094752163585343212011-09-14T21:54:00.000-07:002011-09-14T21:54:43.376-07:00

Today we brought Mr Burns home from Berkeley Animal Care Services.  We are delighted to have him here with us and are looking forward to many adventures with him in the years to come. Mr Burns is indeed named after The Simpsons' Mr Burns.  The shelter staff have a lot of rescued animals to name and sometimes run dry on inspiration.  So when our new boy's litter came in, they just started naming

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-76823947586347070532011-09-14T07:30:00.000-07:002011-09-14T07:30:41.746-07:00

Someone told me a story a few weeks ago about a friend of hers who was super-offended in a yoga class recently when the teacher told her pointedly to put away her notebook.  Didn't ask, but told, along with words along the lines of, "get your own theme."  Now, I wasn't there so can't vouch for the veracity or completeness of this tale or provide more details.  All I know is that when I heard it,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-27778161670077899972011-09-12T06:40:00.000-07:002011-09-12T06:40:00.913-07:00

All things considered -- working til 7:45 pm on Friday night and all the woe and misery of the national refrain yesterday -- this weekend was a thing of glory.  I definitely had moments of sorrow, of missing Jasper so much, but really, all in all, amazing. I feel I should mention here that I think I am finally beginning to benefit from the daily iron supplements.  Yesterday I was on my feet all

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-53764810143884124432011-09-10T15:48:00.001-07:002011-09-10T15:48:40.291-07:00

Adoptathon, a set on Flickr.

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-30090221780317197892011-09-09T07:30:00.000-07:002011-09-09T07:34:11.686-07:00

Yesterday I had my hair cut at the delightful Siren Salon in San Anselmo.  You're wondering, I'm sure, how this has anything whatever to do with spiders.  Hang on. And rest assured, there are no spiders at Siren.  None, not one. So yesterday: Siren Salon, San Anselmo.  I love that place.  The moment I walked in, I felt happy and relaxed.  It smells delicious.  The music is great.  The art on the

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-84525741143138193192011-09-08T19:36:00.000-07:002011-09-08T19:36:59.881-07:00

I received an actual letter in the mail today. Honestly, I can't remember the last time that happened.  Yes, I've received the odd Thank You card (generally from the delightful Heather J, such excellent manners!) and birthday cards and such, but a letter?  Really, that is a rare occurrence, indeed. Of course the letter was from Margot, Margot my best friend made at San Francisco State University

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-38103669888080167182011-09-08T06:36:00.000-07:002011-09-08T07:10:36.815-07:00

I know it's been a while since I introduced The Bag Thing, and that I owe you all the photos and delightful narratives that accompany them. But I've been a little lame lately, and so not up to my usual snuff. In the meantime, to hold you over, I just wish we could see what's INSIDE this enormous $2,165 purse of Anne Hathaway's.  My great fear is it would be virtually impossible to find anything

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-63787311777741612822011-09-07T07:00:00.000-07:002011-09-07T07:00:42.365-07:00

A few weeks ago, the day that Joe and I went out on that early-early morning hike to Tennessee Valley, we came across a garage sale close to our house, featuring my most favorite thing: kids selling off their books.  Now, this is only my favorite thing because it means I can benefit, but there's a part of me (a big part) that truly doesn't understand the selling of books, the kicking them out of

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-52725649507454138552011-09-06T12:18:00.000-07:002011-09-06T12:18:00.825-07:00

I'm in the midst of a horrible spate of insomnia.  Either I only sleep a couple of hours at a time, generally with awful dreams, with an hour or so of wakefulness in between.  Every couple of nights I'll take one of the remaining Ambien from the chemo left-overs and be knocked out for 8-9 hours.  That lets me catch up a bit.  But today I am falling on my face a bit, unable not to work since our

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-11027615395462720802011-09-04T10:08:00.000-07:002011-09-04T10:11:48.266-07:00

"Que faisiez-vous au temps chaud?" Dit-elle à cette emprunteuse. — "Nuit et jour à tout venant Je chantais, ne vous déplaise." — "Vous chantiez ? J’en suis fort aise.  Eh bien! Dansez maintenant." - Jean de la Fontaine, La Cigale et la fourmiWhen we were children at the French American Bilingual School, like all French children in French schools everywhere, we memorized and recited poems and

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-3972649359605375662011-09-02T07:01:00.000-07:002011-09-02T07:01:20.588-07:00

For a very, very long time, from the time The Kid was 5 until he turned 18, we did not have television.  Wait, I lie: we had a physical television set, but we did not have cable, meaning that the physical television set was only capable of showing us videos, then DVDs.  We watched a lot of movies together, but missed a huge chunk of television-time.  We missed, for example, the entire Seinfeld

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-51838018550333786892011-09-01T07:23:00.000-07:002011-09-01T07:23:56.398-07:00

Last month I signed up for Amy Ippoliti's 30 Day Yoga Challenge via Facebook.  I'm a huge fan of Amy's -- she's funny and she kicks ass -- and I particularly love how entrepreneurial she is, always coming up with some new deal.  Did you know she invented the Anusara immersion?  So, since I fell in love with Amy at Wanderlust, it was only natural that I follow her on FB and basically do everything

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-48772160208039188842011-08-28T16:23:00.000-07:002011-08-28T16:23:09.450-07:00

Honey by magic Label design by Martine Trelaun I most definitely feel more like myself today, thank Goodness. And maybe that's why some chance words of Abby's have echoed in my head all day long.  We were talking before class, and in response to something I said (probably about Embrace Yoga, which I'm so excited about), Abby accidentally said, "that's Grace," when she meant to say, "that's

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-21591583145015157582011-08-27T18:09:00.000-07:002011-08-27T18:09:39.793-07:00

Locally-queened hive at set-up We have three hives going this year, two that we purchased as packages from Beekind in Sebastopol, another that is the result of a swarm taken at our friend Rebecca's house. The purchased packages (which means we bought a little box with a queen + 10,000 workers in it) had different queens: one was Italian, the other Local, reared in Sebastopol.  Who knows what

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-28576178288851393022011-08-25T07:30:00.000-07:002011-08-25T07:30:39.954-07:00

Recently, I was first in bed and asked Joe if he wouldn't mind fetching my glasses.  I was already cozy, pillows just-so, book propped on belly, when I realized I was missing my eyes. They're in my purse, I called out as he headed down the hall to the kitchen, confident that I'd provided adequate instruction to assist him in his search.   A few minutes later, as he handed me my glasses, he said,

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-24482207389115909642011-08-24T19:36:00.000-07:002011-08-24T19:36:50.524-07:00

we mostly live by ourselves now.  it's just joe and me in our mostly tidy house.  the kid is here maybe one or two nights a week, but sometimes i become aware that he has been home while we're at work.  because i see in patterns, i read his signs easily. the following represents an accumulation of signs of his passage taken over several visits.  i don't know why this interests me, but i find it

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-34323653968237540972011-08-19T07:45:00.000-07:002011-08-19T07:45:00.374-07:00

This week marks 5 months since we lost our sweet, sweet pony-boy Jasper.  It's for really-reals that the missing-him is such pain.  I cry less frequently, but I'm still not bothering about mascara -- the torrent is always right there, ready to go.  It's an unusual day if I don't weep at least once. Today was kind of a break-through for me in my long grief: I went for our usual walk around the

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2812254188016088546.post-2066031842414147752011-08-17T07:37:00.000-07:002011-08-17T07:37:15.532-07:00

As usual, I'm reading everything I possibly can about anemia, since the lab work finally revealed it end of last week as the likely cause of my recent months of listlessness and fatigue. I knew it was more than just my heart-break and grief over losing Jasper. No, this drag-ass-ed-ness is more than that. Literally, I have been feeling like I just have absolutely nothing in the tank, no matter

Arianehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15057310809123193387noreply@blogger.com0