spicy

salsa. salsa. salsa. the kind where your feet move in and out, your hips back and forth, and your shoulders round and round. then there is the kind from a jar - hot, medium or mild, sometimes with roasted garlic, or black beans and corn. or the kind that is fresh, fresh, fresh. hot, hot, hot. that's the kind I like. a lot. hot, hot, hot. sweat beading on my forehead, and friction under my toes. in and out. back and forth. round and round.

I actually left my house at 9:30 tonight to go out salsa dancing. For those of you who know me well, you know this is not a common occurrence.... I'm an early morning girl, supposedly. But last night I was totally wooed by the rhythm and the movement of the salsa dance. And now that is all I want to do. The thing I am discovering is that even though I can move to the music like a pro, all by myself, when I try to move with a partner, I'm all thumbs... or big toes, in this case. I'm used to doing my own thing, and it's a whole different story to let someone else call the shots... it's like I don't even know the language yet, much less how to listen. But I'm excited to learn.

mornings

there is frost on the lamb's ears this morning, and the swamp has ice - frozen in those neat spiky patterns. there's ice on the rocks by cape pogue too, and yet the honey suckle and russian olive leaves hang right on to their slender, sticky branches. my legs and lungs liked running this morning...and my mind too. it was a good time to remember that I only exist now, and now, and now. not yesterday while I was worrying about my brother, and not today when I have to massage two stocky men, and not tonight when I'm going out and don't even know why. what a difficult concept to get my head around! no day but today. I ran around Brine's Pond three times, and the third time I noticed an animal tunnel mostly covered with leaves, and it made me wonder what other things I miss in my life when I'm busy worry about yesterday or tomorrow. or even just 20 minutes from now.

lost time

It's 11:13 pm, on 11/20, and I am surrounded by paper, rubberstamps, ink and photos.... It's a regular smorgasbord of art supplies, and I'm in heaven. When I get to stamping again, I always wonder why I don't do it more often. I'm remembering again that art is where I lose myself. Hours can pass by, and they'll go like a wink.