shining egg

fish with a womb

my grandmother lives in a city on the red sea, in the south of israel.  

in addition to visiting my grandmother, my uncle, and my cousins, i've been visiting with some dolphin friends.

   

this is luna.  she's one of my favorites.

these dolphins live in the sea, in their natural habitat.  though their diet is supplemented, they're never trained for food or forced to perform.  you can read more about them here.  it's a very special place. 

 

dolphins are amazing creatures, i think.

and this is the view from the beach where the dolphins live.  at sunset.  sigh.

from afar

i've flown half way around the world to visit my grandmother.  i hadn't seen her for 18 months - which is a long time in the life of little children, and grandparents.

it's a very special place, this town where my grandmother lives.  this whole country, really.

tomorrow i'll show you the dolphins.

bits, 2

i was doing some gathering sorting and found these stones i collected on the beach this summer.  they make me happy, in their own simple how-is-it-possible-that-nature-made-this-? way.

a few other bits this morning:

* the latest issue of this joy + ride is up with photographs by nicole gliddon.  i've been back to visit twice already.  

* we posted a new collection at echoes on tuesday.  there will be one more collection on tuesday next week, and then a finale the following week.

* sarah pointed me toward a source for saigon cinnamon, and now i have some and can make the cinnamon cookies that seem to be such a big hit around the neighborhood.

* a few shop updates i'm really looking forward to.

and that's it for today.  i'm packing a bag (or two) and we're heading to a sunny spot with lots of family and celebrating.  see you soon, friends.

rolling

i made tortillas and beans for dinner last night.  i've become so enamored with homemade tortillas that i can't bring myself to buy them at the store anymore, which is both good and bad.  it's good because, of course, homemade is better, healthier, all around.  but it's bad because i don't always have the time to make my own, or the inclination to cover the entire kitchen - counter tops, floors, everything - with flour.  but last night i did, and i'm so glad.  and today there will be quesadillas for lunch.

as an aside, while i was cooking the beans, after i had soaked them and sauteed the onion and the garlic, and just as i was about to pour the broth over the pot of yumminess, i realized that i was out of cumin.  luckily there was only one child at home with me at the time, and he acquiesced to going with me to the market down the street.  the beans were delicious, in the end, and they'll be in the quesadillas at lunch today, too.

but while i was rolling (and rolling and rolling) the tortillas yesterday afternoon, i realized that i have, um, five rolling pins.  which seems excessive, even for someone who does a lot of rolling.  there is the marble rolling pin we got as a wedding gift that i have never (ever) used, and which weighs about two hundred pounds.  there is the old wooden rolling pin with handles that i adopted when we packed up my grandmother's apartment, what seems like many moons ago.  there is the straight pin i bought for myself several years ago, needing one without handles.  and, there are still two more.  

there is the tiny rolling pin i bought for the kids, but which turns out to be the very, very best for rolling tortillas.  it's lightweight, easily maneuverable, you can see it in the first photo; i've grown quite attached to it.  and there is the most special rolling pin of all (also in the first photo) - the extra-long, straight, and well-loved rolling pin that belonged to my great-grandmother.  it lived with my aunt for many, many years, and when she passed away two years ago, the rolling pin came to live with me.

i think i'll get rid of the others - the marble pin and the straight pin i bought for myself - find them new homes where they will find use and bring enjoyment, while i roll and roll and feel grateful for the history and the future and the possibilities i hold in my hands - and for tortillas and beans.  yum.

bits, one of many

you, all of you - you're the best neighbors.  thank you for your kind words on my ramblings about narrative and whatnot.  today, a few bits.

* shari is hosting a week of paths.  i took this photo of b. a few weeks ago.  it's film.  i pulled out my old nikon slr, which is fun and different, and so much lighter than the digital.

* have you seen heather and jen's most recent inspired duos?  this one might be my favorite.  but i say that every month.

* a few photos i'm loving right now: grass, ann shoots chelsea in the wheat, 10 october 08.  can you tell where my head is?

* and this one.  so very different, but i can't stop looking at it.

* i'm dying to knit something.  i haven't been knitting at all - for months.  and lately, things like this (and this and this) are making me all woozy to knit again.  i'm longing for the quiet space that comes when the needles are moving and the yarn is turning into something.  any suggestions?

and that - those bits - that is all for today.  i'm off to eat ice cream.

been gone a bit

remember me?  i used to live in this neighborhood?    

i didn't plan to be gone for two weeks, but i feel like i blinked my eyes on the first day of school and suddenly it was the birthday, and the next thing i knew we were dipping apples in honey to celebrate the new year, and then we were traipsing through the woods to a stream where we tossed breadcrumbs meant to symbolize all of the mistakes we've made in the past year - throwing those symbolic mistakes away - and then it was yom kippur, the holiest day of the jewish year - the day of atonement, and phew.  it's been a whirlwind.  there were three separate birthday cakes, a batch of triple-chip cookies, a batch of brownies, two coffee cakes, two apple crisps, and a double crust apple pie.  and that's just the desserts.  really, i'm not at all sure how i got here.  but here i am.

i miss this space.  i miss writing here daily.  i miss noticing the tiny details of each day and sharing them with you.  i've been noticing, of course, but there's something about the sharing that brings things alive.  the noticing, and the documenting, and the sharing.  i mean, sometimes it's really (really) nice to put the camera down and just be, to eat the granola and drink the tea without first stopping to take a picture.  but there's also something very special about stopping before lifting the spoon to take a picture, and sharing it here with people who appreciate photographs of granola and tea - and also appreciate the people who take photographs of their granola and tea.

and all this time that i've been gone, it's not like i didn't have anything to say or share.  but sometimes i struggle with this space as narrative vs. well...non-narrative.  so while i might have dropped in to share the paintings i made on a recent trip to the horse farm, or the coasters sent to me by my friend rachel, i felt held-up by the need to fill in the missing space.  

don't get me wrong, i love the narrative.  it's just that sometimes i'd like to just share bits of nothingness, and not feel bogged down by the narrative.  and i know that's all in my head (really, i know this), that you wouldn't mind (would you?) if i just shared bits of nothing when the business of life becomes too much and i get stuck in the muck.  truly, these are rhetorical questions.

i'm going to try, to really try, to keep myself to a routine of being in this space - with words, or photos, or paintings, or things i'm enjoying, or bits of nothing, really - so that i don't get weighted down by the time-gone-by and start feeling like i can't post again until i fill in the blanks.  ok?  ok.

and that's just a teensy bit of what's been floating through my mind these last two weeks.  i'm woefully behind on my flickr-ing and my blog reading.  i've got projects galore unfinished (hello gocco swap?  yikes).  and i've got some intense travel coming up in the next few weeks.  but i'm going to be around - i'm going to make myself be around here.  because this is my neighborhood, and i miss you, my friends.