girl at large

Projects

At last, I got around to putting this Marimekko fabric on stretchers. It's been languishing in the trunk of my car for nearly a year, until I could find stretchers long enough--it's a single repeat of 50" x 90"! I love this print, it reminds me of the birch trees in Door County and the vibrant colors cheer me up without being garish. Of course, it did none of these things behind the bottle of window washer fluid. Now, it looks great in the spare room (come November to be known as "Mom's Room"), and is inspiring me to get moving on my other home improvement projects. The spare room is still a mess--the bookshelves are all wrong, and it needs a rug and a twin bed, and a side chair, and shades, and....but I'm going to tackle my own bedroom first.

Do Dogs Feel Disdain?

"What The Hell Are You Looking At?"

I photograph Ruby regularly--and this is one of only two expressions I can capture, the other being "Please Don't Beat Me".

I see that you see me.

Standing in the kitchen yesterday morning, coffee cup steaming, I was getting used to the idea of being awake when I noticed that the neighbors had tightly closed the aluminum blind in their window across from my kitchen. Anyone in a rental knows that these ubiqui-hideous blinds can be closed to varying degrees--sorta slated down for anti-glare, almost shut for privacy--and completely closed, twist the plastic wand til it almost snaps off.

I wondered why they would do that, that window is usually unshaded, and the sunshine on that side of our respective buildings is so very warm, pleasant and as always, rare. Then I realized that I had been standing there, groggily reflecting for five entire minutes and well...nearly as bare as my own window. Oh.

Portrait

This sibling portrait arrived with the skaters painting--the frame needs replacing, but the faces are the same. It looks good above the fireplace, but it's strange to see us looking back at me. On occasion, walking by it quickly, I get the eery feeling that I'm in the old house, that it's 1989 and I'm grounded.

Skaters

Mom had this painting sent to me last week (thanks Uncle Bill). It hung for years in our entry hallway in Fondy, then in Mom's apartment on Diversey, then at Grandma Mickey's while Mom's been abroad. I'll be lucky if the plant next to it will last a fraction of that time. I've always loved this painting, feel very luck to have it in my home. I should know more about it ---anyone know the story?

It looks fantastic in the living room, I could look at it for hours. It's starting to feel like a permanent home here, one little piece at a time.

Getting from A to T. (T is for Trailer)

I love the Oregon Coast. Driving the 101, the vistas, the moody weather, the rock formations looming out of the ocean, the cliffs and bluffs, the small towns and inlets...it reminds me of Door County on steroids.

I spend as many 'weekends' as possible out there--my 'weekends' usually falling on weekdays when the majority of the population is in town at work. The coast is vast and sparsely developed, during the week the experience is solitude defined. Ruby adores the trips, it hardly needs mentioning. Just ask her how many dead animals she's scavanged off the beach and brought to me, anticipating a reward.

A few months ago, about the same time I developed this stress rash (more on that later), I started dreaming of having a cabin on the coast. Not a big dream, not fantasy. But a little dream, a realistic one (is this what growing up is? Realistic ideas that still take a load of work to reach?). Realistic on my budget is a run down cabin on a bit of land no one else wants. Though not as developed as those coastal regions that offer the benefit of warmth and sunshine, property here still goes at a premium. Add a view, add a couple of zeros. Not a local? Good luck with zoning sucker.

Internet daydreaming landed me on a real estate listing for a run down old mobile home, not exactly on the ocean, but pretty close. And for a minute, I thought--well, how bad could that be? Ok, it could be pretty bad. But what if it's just a start? And in a couple of years, the old mobile gets torn down and replaced with...with..

..... Dream No. 2, not so realistic, is to quit all work, get an Airstream and a Wagoneer and spend a few years traveling the States, photographing and journaling and adventuring. But that's later....so what has the efficiency and affordabilty of a travel trailer but doesn't travel?

The Park Model Home. Only I didn't know that until weeks later, when I was on I-5, heading to Seattle for work (Reason No. 1 for getting away on the weekends!).....

vroom vroom

Tom called the other day, something he doesn't do very much. I'm never home according to him, as I cannot easily be reached. I will not get a cell phone, don't bother bugging me about it. So, I called him back, hoping it wasn't bad news.

It wasn't.

He got a new car. A Lotus Elise!

Past and Future, both in envelopes.

The Breckenridge brochures arrived in today's mail, along with a notice from the US Dept. of Education ---my little cottage specs and my biggest debt in the same mail pile.

This is the second time that the US Dept of Ed. has messed up my automatic loan repayments--all this time, nearly two years, I thought my monthly payments were being automatically deducted. They weren't. Now the loan is in default. And this time, it's not my fault!

I actually got through to a live person at the other end of the 800 number, and this time, they promise me the arrangements will be kept. Of course, now, it's a higher payment and a black mark on my already sketchy credit rating.

But at least it's a step forward. Maybe my little cottage on the coast is meant to be. Perhaps I was meant to get serious about taking care of this messy bit of finance so I can see a path to getting my little cottage mortgage.

I realize that this entry seems out of the blue, there are about five or six entries I haven't written yet to describe how I got to ordering trailer home brochures...will post soon, under the category "Cabin on the Coast".

boo!

Cleaning out my computer files, I found this copy of a funny IM conversation I had with my brother a while back. Enjoy.

tnoe@mac.com: hey, do you know how to pronounce Hibou, which I think should be french for owl
Katemikkelsen: ok, that's the strangest question
Katemikkelsen: if it is french, then drop the H "eeebou"
tnoe@mac.com: like boo
Katemikkelsen: still say the "i" , but pronounced like our "eee"
Katemikkelsen: so "eee-boo"
tnoe@mac.com: right
tnoe@mac.com: is it boo or bow
Katemikkelsen: boo
Katemikkelsen: bou = boo
Katemikkelsen: beau=bough
tnoe@mac.com: like a ghost
Katemikkelsen: yes, like casper
tnoe@mac.com: thanks
Katemikkelsen: it's not coming up in my dictionary
Katemikkelsen: where is this from?
Katemikkelsen: oh wait, it's L'hibou...yes, owl
Katemikkelsen: have a good one
tnoe@mac.com: you too, thanks