It?s noon and I?d be feeling those first tremors of anxiety since there is a singular purpose to my activities today?a singular purpose that has not yet been addressed?and yet I feel no anxiety (okay, I lie, but they are tiny, tiny twinges) because my heart is so glad.

The gladness of my heart is like an e.e. cummings poem. It sings and hums and whispers silly observations to me and it?s really hard for anxiety to flourish with all that happy buzzling.

(Yes, I see that typo above. Of course I meant to type ?buzzing? but old man cummings must be flitting about because buzzling seems like such a word he?d make up I?m going to leave it.)

So?what I must absolutely focus on is the momma of all grants that must be in the mail, postmarked by Monday, April 30 no ifs, ands or buts. And, today IS the day. I am prepared to apply the laser focus . . it?s just the morning has been so very, hmmm buzzling.

Activities of which I have partook since waking: a fat, delicious walk with the dogs in the fresh morning air with the smell of pine and the sight of buds inching out from their winter hiding; sitting with my feet up, a mug of hot coffee between my palms, looking out across the field, listening to the birds; washing the plants . . . oops, I guess when it comes to me washing the leaves of the plants (and singing to them) you know I have fallen a bit off the SINGULAR FOCUS of the day.

But I am here now ready for work. However, before I take the plunge I wanted to share with you what follows in the wake of such an extraordinary weekend.

And it was indeed most extraordinary in its simplicity and its utter naturalness and its sweet, sweet communion.

If I tried to describe Liz to you, I would fail. You can?t hold a moonbeam in your hand. (Oscar Hammerstein II said that and he was right). I will remind you that she is the one who gave us the name Soliden?and that is important to remember when I share this next bit with you.

Our kitchen has a backsplash of granite tiles (that don?t photograph well so if you think they are really ugly, don?t tell them?they may be tough on the outside but inside they are very sensitive). Above is a range hood that T made for me per my explicit design instructions despite the fact that he HATED the design.

Hated. The. Design.

Now that?s love people?he did it just for me. (And in case you?re wondering I do LOTS of things for him?Exhibit A who lives in a climate where Winter doesn?t end until late April because her husband likes trees? Ahem. We will mention this no more).

So the range hood. And my plan all along was to handpaint some wild flowers on it?but every time I went to do that?I just stepped back and was like, hm, not sure?but still, that was the plan. Until, however, a certain woman (with pretty, pretty hair) came strolling in from Sweden with a gorgeous platter (and Orrefors glass votives!). Talk about bearing gifts?this was EXACTLY what the house had been waiting for. Look for yourself. Is that not utterly and completely the heart of the home that is called Soliden?

And it gets worse. Yes, yes it does?because as you long-time readers know I have trouble receiving love (especially in the form of gifts) and though I have made great strides in this area of my life, it seems Liz and Christina wanted to put me through a grueling test to see if I had indeed reached new ground.

Before I tell you how my final exam with Christina went, I must first set the stage.

Long, long ago back when I first joined the corporate workforce because I was so intrigued by the concept of being paid cash money on a weekly basis, I purchased a New Yorker cover print that had stolen my heart from the very first time I laid eyes on it.

That little girl is me. (You didn?t know I had ringlets as a small child? I?ll post a pic of me on the beach that will support this assertion). And, she is surrounded by idiots who are listening to the wrong thing and though they may be on the beach they are nowhere near the beach. I hung this in my office from the day I signed on and it served to remind me who I was through those dark, soul-stealing years.

Now it is here with me in my studio/office.

On Sunday, before she left, Christina?she of the ocean eyes and summer day heart?came over to me with this:

The painting I loved so much. The painting (note the blue! And the orange! And the whirling! And the twirling!) that made me say yes yes yes.

And I put it next to my little girl on the beach and I laugh every time because now it?s not just that she?s listening?she?s answering a call and she?s saying YES.

Did I mention the after waves following such a delirious weekend? Last night (after making chicken soup from scratch with cilantro and spinach and oh! it was so good) I found myself in the studio playing in the blank journal Selkie sent me. Selkie gave the theme of the book as ?dream.?

And I haven't even TOLD you about Liz's mom Linda who is the most magical spirit and who gave me a healing session to rid me of my anxiety! I probably better not tell you about that or you'll come up here with pitchforks with my name on them-- but if you do come up, I'll make you some tea and we'll sit in the field and . . .

Must now begin stalking the elusive grant--do wish me a successful hunt.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
~ e.e. cummings

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