All the way to the edge

oh yah busy day! It's Wednesday - time to get some shit done.

<<<<buttered toast







I was off this morning to get a massage.  If you haven't had one I suggest you get one.  My massage therapist, Matt is a funny guy who cuts his own hair.  I give him alot of shit for it. It was particularly bad today.  He gave me an intense massage - nothing relaxing about it I'm afraid. In fact, it released enough toxins it promptly gave me a headache and other "flu-like" symptoms.

It was a little more fall like today but still very hot for this time of year.

Dad Report: Line was still busy so I called and was told they would check his phone after finishing up a wound dressing they were doing (15 min).  45 minutes later with the line still busy; I called back.  They were "just on their way to check" - and after another 20 minutes of them messing around managed to get the phone to have a dial tone.  Spoke with Dad, he was upset as yesterday he thought they were taking him to an exercise class but they put him in front of the TV where there was a football game on (which he had no interest in).  But then an hour or so later, when he HAD gotten interested in the game, 2 minutes before it ended - they made him leave and go back to his room. "I protested loudly, but they didn't listen".   It's so hard to know exactly what happened but if nothing else it was upsetting to him - so I always commiserate and then try to think of a positive take or distraction.  He mentioned his "recent 3 day hospitalization" which wiped out his memory - which left me a bit confused. And toward the end of the call mentioned a "3 day party at the house that his wife was taking him to, which he was looking forward to." Huh.

We talked a bit about Halloween which led to Dad talking about being unlike and friendless as a child. He mentions this and things like it a lot. It's sad to me that this weighs heavily on his mind in his late years, lamenting lack of friends and being a book-worm after so many years.

The next big thing:

Work on logo, and “tag line”[the VHM is working on this - but so far, well, um...he's not getting too far]

Work on bio

Take better pictures of product

[I still need to do the three above but I skipped em for now in favor of getting the Etsy Store up and running - I can add to and tweek this in the future]

Get girl to scan in the other 15 8 drawings [I tried today but apparently she was only up for one...]

WRITE. [that's right folks - I finally did some]

Make a list of stuff we'll need for the BizBaz show, start gathering [I guess we don't find out what space we have until November, which makes it harder to plan]

Set up Z's card
Send Z proposal
Call up Merc and make appt. to show cards. [Next week Weds at 1:00]
Send email to MADE now that Etsy shop is up
Re do Etsy site to correct URL/ shop name/user name [more on this in a minute]
Change watermarks on cards 
Contact WHCC about possible discount on fewer cards. [Well it didn't hurt to ask - but no way no how was the answer]


So yah - I choose to re-do the Etsy site, I made a mistake when I set it up and the one thing they can't change/you can't change is the user name (which it turns out is also your shop name).  So this meant that on each listing it was listed under cmcdiarmid instead of Taterpickle Papers.  Only fix was to close done the other shop and reopen a new one - do all new listings and incur a new set of fees. BOO.  but it's done - http://www.etsy.com/shop/taterpicklepapers


 

Random Photo of the Day: 

Oh look it's one of the 'phews, rockin the Obama shirt
He looks a little... tipsy. Ah college kids...he's a good kid - studying aeronautical engineering or something like that - knows TONS about cars VW's in particular.  Miss seeing him and his sibs.




The writing: 


Be kind. This is the first time I ever put anything up where just anyone could read it. 

Buttered Toast Days

Remember the buttered toast days?

The window open,

you would make toast.

Butter it just so.

Buttered all the way to the edge.

No jam, just butter.

Air crisp, more chilly

than pleasant;

morning fresh.

I welcomed the dog’s breath on my toes,

warm fur rubbing against the bottom of my feet.

Buckle would cower,

wrinkle his eyebrows at you,

begging for buttered toast

and love.

I remember eggs, but there

wasn’t eggs.

Just sourdough bread

Butter

Saltines

Clam Chowder

and moldy apples

in the bottom drawer of the fridge.

I dreamt of cooking for you.

Fattening you up,

filling you full of goodness

Pasta

Cheese

Eggs

Cookies

How would I cook in a kitchen so cold?

All the heat was by the wood stove that

magically didn’t burn wood.

All the dinners

and conversations

books read

naps taken

were by the heat of the stove.

I would find you,

on the floor by the stove,

asleep,

or dreaming;

face creased,

Buckle laying near by.

Bring you tamales to eat

between adobe walls one foot thick.

How could I cook so far from the heat?

Would you close the window when the snow came?

Did you even have a door?

“The ex, she used to make cookies,” you said.

But was it winter? – I thought.

I knew my feet would freeze, adhere to this floor.

I was certain.

Do you remember the buttered toast days?

I would sit on a stool, my feet on the rail,

my toes turning purple but wouldn’t say anything.

We were new.

You were new.

I wanted you to like me.

I could adapt.

I could wear wool.

By the heat of the non-wood burning wood stove,

we came together.

Two months later, in my apartment kept at 82 degrees,

we came apart.

I remember the buttered toast days.

Best toast ever.

The foundation of us built in a freezing kitchen

with no food

and no door.

Built by a wood stove.

Seven years later, the window is open;

though the leaves are aflame with Fall.

As the air crisps, our kids have their

favorite late night snack,

sourdough toast –

buttered all the way to the edge.