photo taken January 6, 2010

Seven days since I last posted. Did you see that Rome got built?
Oh wait, that's not right-- Rome was built in a day.

Of course, those Roman engineers had it easy. Don't think for a minute that they had to deal with no internet for five days or a project manager who thinks they could get the colloseum wrapped up in a short afternoon. Please-- they don't even know how good they had it.

For those of you who have not a clue what I am talking about-- I launched a new website on Tuesday replete with an expanded program for SAW. It was big and I am tired. Add to that another website launch I have coming up next week--- I project managed the redesign and rebuild of the RDC site--- I think it's safe to say somebody around here has been seriously neglecting her drowsy fabulist duties.

But after I get this brief hello and HAPPY NEW YEAR off to you all, I am shutting down the computer, turning off the phone and doing a face plant into the first pillow I see.

Meantime, I wanted to share these sunrise photos with you from yesterday. Funny enough, the sunrise this morning was even MORE red and more spectacular but the effort to reach for my camera was simply beyond me, so you'll just have to settle for this.

On Tuesday, after the site was launched, I took the dogs and headed over to hike Rattlesnake mountain. This is a change for us and I rarely go there as it is very popular and often crowded. But seeing as it was 3pm on a Tuesday afternoon in January, I thought my chances of having it to ourselves was pretty good. And, I wanted to give the dogs a new route as we have definitely been traveling the same paths these past three months and we were all ready for a change of venue. Plus, Rattlesnake is an easey-peasey climb-- four year olds can do it-- and that was about all I was capable of.

And so, that was my motivation--- but oddly enough, when we got to the top there was this big sign (perhaps it has always been there and I never noticed it before, or it was new-- either way, I truly had never been aware of it before) explaining that this mountain preservation was a gift from RDC in honor of the women who founded the camps. Now, anyone who has come to Squam knows how deeply I feel the presence of these two women in my life. So, it kind of hit me right in the heart. Here I was having my moment after a long, sustained effort-- and with no conscious intention-- I ended up having my personal, celebratory moment in the presence of the two spirit angels who founded RDC.

Life, you so rock me.

And then this morning, as I was quickly crusing through facebook, answering emails there-- I saw Lizzie's post about the suicide of this poet. I admit, I have never read a poem by Rachel Wetzsteon, but I know the pain of believing life would be a whole lot easier if I were dead. And, it is weird because last night I dreamt about Anne Sexton and between those two events I just feel more clearly than ever why I do what I do.

There was a time when I thought it was kind of extravagant to spend money on four days to play, make art, make new friends and enrich existing relationships. I don't believe that anymore. Not at all. I have seen, first-hand, that those four days can transform your entire outlook on life and your place in it. I have seen that those four days can feed the other 361.

Beautiful poets should not be killing themselves.

Creative spirits should be connected one to the other, providing support and love and laughter as we make it through the dark, painful, experiences that life can slam us with.

Sorry-- I didn't mean to end up on a downer here. Let me see if I can regroup.

Oh hell, I am too tired and my brain is too fried to even clarify my thoughts. I guess I want to say that it breaks my heart that Rachel Wetzsteon, whom I've never met, whom I've never read-- was in such agony that she felt she had no option but to kill herself. It breaks my heart. And I want to believe that we can ease that collective pain by joining together-- by being together-- and supporting each other as we express ourselves and our experiences through our art and our writing. And that belief might mean I am crazy.

But I believe it with my entire crazy-ass body, in every slack-ass cell in my being, that art saves lives.

Bisous, E

got 2 cents?