Tuesday, July 28, 2009

*notice* heat

The Pacific Northwest is under a heat wave and boy are we all boiling. I woke up early in hopes to find a pocket of the day free of humidity, expecting the slanting light and glinting dew of just-dawn to house a bit of relief. Fat chance.

Throughout the day the temperatures continued to rise. I worked in town today, and all we (or our few customers) talked about was this heat, past heat, or other observations of weather. Being a recent transplant here, comparing notes between East and West coast was the theme of the day. It was all good fun in the cool comfort of air conditioning, but on the way home one must brace for pacing chores and steps with the utmost care.

On the highway, heading home, windows glint under the harsh afternoon sun. The horizon is lined with low, hunkering, bilious clouds. Translucent clouds, ghostly clouds, baby blue and capped in pink clouds, which spell out to my eye the hottest of summer days. These clouds, this traffic, the wavering, thick atmosphere hovering over pavement, all of these spell ocean-bound to me, just the right equation. I grew up in a summer culture, on an East coast peninsula where we all headed to the water for 3 months (at least!) of the year. I feel land-locked in this place, far from the gentle mirror of ponds, the many faces a coast can have.

I get home just around 4. This is the thick of the hottest past of the day (as apposed to the East coast, which begins to cool for rush-hour... or if not its a good indication you're stuck with the sticky heat all night) and I'm grateful for the foresight in shuttering the house before I left for work. It is 87 degrees downstairs, meaning it must be well above 95 upstairs. I take out my Moleskine journals and arrange my Gocco for some printing after eating a light dinner.
* * *

An hour later I'm cleaning up. My hands are covered in black ink, hard to keep this slick stuff where you want it in this heat. I'm sweating now, one tall frosty glass of cold water after another has disappeared by my side; print, move, print, move, sip, print, move. I'm storing excess ink in baby food glass jars these days, and think about my young nephews who are visiting my home town right now. I inspect the prints and schedule the next layer printing in my mental calendar. I may be far from the ocean, but knee-deep in my dreams.

Monday, July 27, 2009

A Long, Long Day

Dear Readers,

Wow... June 26th was the last time I visited my blog!? What on earth has been happening?
Hello and welcome back to you, to me, to this whole adventure we call art-making, child-rearing, settling, working and dreaming. I admit- July sort of unfolded in a fearsome way, and I'm glad its wrapping up with a new month on the horizon. But here we are, so thank you with your patience as I took a holiday from the public record of my life and simply did my best to live it.

The house, the boys, my sister, and the shop are all doing fine. I'm happy to report I've been doing a lot of smaller Gocco projects and widening my freebies, crafty-items, and working on the fixing's for the comeback of Gocco gift packs. I'm sad to report that early last month my camera met a grusome end, making it a little tricky to traverse this Internet communication/ shop running in the same way that I had been. I may be releasing some new products in an effort to fund raise to replace my camera, and will keep the blog, Flickr, and Facebook updated in regards to such goings-on.

Otherwise, my brain is a little fried with this heat wave Portland, Oregon is having (tomorrow 109 degrees!?). My heart, too, is feeling the distance with my twin nephews, who are turning their 1st year old in just 12 days, are on the other side of the country for about a month. Lucky for me there is work to be done- lots of it!- and also a blog to dust off, keeping my sister in the loop of her neighborhood's events while home in Massachusetts. I'll do my best to find some photographs, and make sure some newsworthy, positive, adventurous events happen in the following weeks.

Happy summer, everyone.