Emp-ty to the G

Magic the Gathering on the porch this weekend, anyone?

Turn and Face the Strange

May Day approaches and with it, a huge shift for our little family. Devon is off to see what living with people her own age is like. And Evan is going to live on his own for the very first time ever. He's got a great new apartment all ready for him to make his own. My studio is moving upstairs, so I'll really be living with my work. And Hayley and some other lucky guy/gal are going to make the Rowe School their home.

I've thought a bit a about whether I should change the name of the blog, but it comes down to this: Evan is my family and this house is still what's it's been from the beginning. So The Rowe School for Girls, it will remain.

There really couldn't be a more appropriate time for me to start going to the Birmingham Shambhala Meditation Center. Buddhism seems depressing to a lot of people, what with all that talk of suffering and impermanence. But those things are reality, and avoiding them only makes things worse. So I'm trying to open myself to change, as difficult as that sometimes is. It helps that I like my life here, the city, and the friends I've made. Although I suppose if I were really being Buddhist about the whole thing I'd realize that those things will also change. What better reason to be present?

NewNewNew!!!

• New washboard. Rodney's disintegrated into a pile of wood and string and scrap metal. But check this baby out! She's beautiful.

• New veggie plants in the garden. I even splurged and bought a raspberry bush.

• New Pillow Monsters. Sooooo cute!

• New quilts in the shop. Finally took photos of the ones that are finished, and here is a WIP. It's for a friend, but there will eventually be some in the shop, too.
• New RMFB photos. We did the shoot, finally. The location was awesome and I love Bre's photography so I'm totally stoked to see the final result.

Beaux Animeaux is playing tonight at Greencup with Brass Bed and Imaginary Planes. RMFB has a show May 1st at Safari Cup. More details to come.

Joy's birthday party was Sat. It was rad, but I strongly advise that no one ever try two simultaneous pinatas ever again. I thought Joy was going to die. The cake was wikkid awesome and rainbow like the one I've totally been wanting to make forever. Now I extra want to make one because it's so much fun inside!!! And of course Hank Lazard and crew were hilarious. I think everyone has a new appreciation for "Woolly Bully."

Are You Here to Stay?

I'm hoping so very hard that the warm weather is here for good this time. I'm feeling better than I have in days. Of course that's probably because I got a big project out of the way–a presentation on 18th century gothic revival in design and architecture. Riveting, isn't it?

Beaux Animeaux got a big project out of the way, too, as I mentioned last time. They were gone all weekend recording and then Evan spent Sunday evening listening to rough cuts of the tracks. I'm pretty sure I vowed not to date musicians after my first boyfriend. I guess it's lucky for me Evan is only pretending. But seriously, the tracks sound good. The album is gonna be wikkid awesome.

I finally got out and weeded the raised beds for this years garden and started some flowers indoors. I suppose I'll try to get some veggie plants this weekend. Fewer tomatoes this time, and I'm going to try chives, beets (though they didn't turn out last year), and Japanese eggplant. Maybe some chillis? Hopefully I've learned from the first go round and will be more successful this year.

On a personal note, recently I've been having a bit of a buddhist existentialist crisis, though it's subsided a bit. As I've probably mentioned before, I'm rather negative in some respects. I might even say that I have a teeny tiny evil streak, and not in that sexy, glamorized way. Besides being judgmental, I've got a lot of hate-y feelings, especially when it comes to people who've done me wrong. "Yes, of course. Everyone does," you might think. But this is a problem. Shadenfreude to the extreme. Revenge fantasies. Utter delight at the thought that their uppance will come. But I don't want to be this way. It makes me unhappy. It makes other people unhappy. I want to be a good Buddhist, practice loving-kindness, and make everything better, not worse, even for people who've hurt me. But how do I get over it when hating feels so good? (I mean it. It's pretty sick really.) And more importantly, how do I practice loving-kindness and protect myself at the same time? Probably the answer is to not try to protect yourself, to let go of fear and let things be how they are. But that's a lot easier said than done. So those are my struggles right now. Any tips? I see a lot of meditation in my future.

Pillow Monsters Are Here!

Pillow Monsters are now available in the Napoleon shop. Each one is different and sweet and special in its own way. I want to keep them all to just have a big pile of monsters to cuddle! There are some new pillows and quilts to add, too, but I haven't photographed them yet. Shooting quilts is probably the hardest thing I have to do for the shop. They'll be up as soon as I get a chance, though.

I also wanted to share oh fransson's photostream with you. Her quilts are bright, bold, and easy enough for a first project. She also has great informational studies of color using fabric, and her blog has some quilt-along tutorials with lot's of helpful photos.

Beaux Animeaux is up in northern Alabama recording this weekend. I hope all is going well. I can't wait to hear the results. I'll let you know as soon as the album is available.

How Well He Made Seem

And how well boy made seem that the hammer in hand
was for the heads of the nails, not the head of a man;

and how well had his wife deftly acted her part
for the owner of bar: his cold bed; his old heart.

She had learned the two codes through the safe-box's locks
when she said don't you trust me? in nothing but socks.

How that rich old fool bill was no match for her eyes!
What a tool! (And a tool would soon be his demise.)

Bill had hired a strong dark-skinned boy to repair
the red awning outside that the winter'd worn bare.

Boy pried open the door with the opposite side
of the hammer he'd sharpened that morning beside

his gold naked young wife with obsidian hair,
a Caribbean wink and oblivious stare:

just this opiate girl in whose honor one might
send young Helen of Troy off to Carthage to fight.

So boy snuck with his tool to the office of bar
where sat old foolish Bill with his foolish guitar.

He was strumming a tune he could hardly recall
when the shadow appeared big and black on the wall

of a hammer—the singular shape of its head