The Furious Spinner

More of my winter vacation.

It's the eve of Christmas Eve (or was when I began this). I am happily ensconced at the casita. It's dark. We just played five games of Sorry on our giant table (which also doubles for the bed).



Mario beat me in a tiebreaker (after he served us soy ice cream). We'll go to bed in a few minutes now.



We arrived yesterday, glad to leave behind the pollution of Phoenix but reluctant to leave before seeing my sister who was away on business when we got there. I hope they'll come down here and see us. We didn't have to get as many things for the casita as we did last year. The mop, toaster oven, bamboo cutting board, and pots and pans we got last year were still here. Everything was beautiful, clean, and inviting. I mopped the floor, but I do that nearly every day in the desert, just a quick swipe with a damp mop to get up the inevitable desert dust.

We went and got the library books I had put on hold at home (back in the Pacific Northwest). Then we went to Antigone, our favorite bookstore here and one of our favorite bookstores anywhere, and I picked up a CD I had ordered when we were back at home. Then we had dinner at Maya Quetzal, the Guatemalan restaurant near the bookstore. Felt like home. Funny how you can come to a place, and it begins to feel like home right away.

My nose was very swollen, however, and my allergies were bad. I was very discouraged. I hate meeting people when I'm feeling and looking so poorly. I just want to hide my face. When I'm in stores, and people won't look at me, I figure that's why. In real life (which is different from the life in my head, I understand), no one is probably paying any attention to my disfigurement (just like when I was in high school and had zits all over my face and was so embarrassed). Only then, I didn't realize how ugly I was. It wasn't until a year later, after my face had cleared up (drugs, man) and I saw a photograph did I realize how terrible I looked. I started crying, I remember, looking at that photograph. I said to my mother (accusingly), "How could you let me out of the house looking like that?"

It's the same way I feel now. I see a photograph of myself, and I think, how can I go out of the house like this? As if ugliness is a crime. (It has to be a photograph, by the way. In the mirror, I just look like myself—I look like the person I am in my dreams.) I know this sounds like vanity, and I suppose it is. But it is about identity, too. I think illness, disfigurement, old age—anything that changes our physical looks—can be jarring to our "view" of ourselves. I'm working on it not mattering. I know my life is not a tragedy. I know that despite illness I am indeed most fortunate. I understand that many terrible things are going on in the world and me worrying about how my illness has disfigured or distorted my looks is a trivial thing. I mention it because I talk often on this blog about chronic illness. Ask anyone who has been ill and they will tell you that how they changed physically during the illness mattered to them. It is disconcerting not to be physically who you believe you truly are.

Anyway, I did the pressure points I talked about before, and they helped the allergies, but my nose was still terribly distorted.

When we first got here, I had a couple of surprises. First, a friend of mine had sent me a wooden flute (made by her talented husband) with a coyote totem. She had also painted a coyote on it and sent me a card with a painting of hers on it called, "Sometimes, Just at Sunset, She Dances With Coyotes." I was just so tickled and charmed. I had told her some time ago that I wanted to learn how to play an instrument. I don't know how to read music, and I was one of those kids tested in elementary school and told I should stay far, far away from any musical instruments. Once I went Christmas Caroling with a group from work when I was in my early twenties. After a few carols, my boss told me just to mouth the words. You get the idea. Nevertheless, I love this flute, and I've been carrying it around and playing scales. The horses and my husband don't seem to object.

The second surprise was that my editor wanted a couple of changes on my new book. (Not Mercy, Unbound but the other one.) We still don't have a title, although the publisher (I think) suggested Broken Moon, and Mario and I both wondered why we hadn't thought of that before. It is going to come out as a hardcover, by the way, with the Margaret K. McElderry imprint. I was able to make the changes before I went to bed last night and e-mail them to her, which was nice. I'm a bit concerned they're going to send the copyedited manuscript to me just as I'm about to get the surgery. Oh well. It'll take my mind off of the surgery then.



We slept deep and we slept late. We heard no owls or coyotes, although I saw an owl fly away soon after we got here on Thursday. I had nightmares most of the night but didn't remember them in much detail. I figured it was just my way of settling in to the place.

Two of the horses from last year are still here. Colette seemed oblivious to me the first day but was friendly today. (Remember last year she was sick while we were here and we bonded.)

This morning Mario and I took a walk up in the park. This year a sign warned us about mountain lions wanting to munch on our little bones. As we stepped on the trail I said, "Okay, honey, let's not get eaten by any lions. It would put a damper on the vacation."

"And any other time it would be okay?" Mario asked.

"You betcha," I said. "Now watch out for rattlesnakes, scorpions, killer bees, regular bees, cacti, and lions. And have fun."

The sign said to "look big" if we encountered a mountain lion. Oh yeah, I've been trying to look big my whole life. I am all of five feet tall. But I'm 108 tasty pounds though. Chewy, though, Ms. or Mr. Mountain Lion. I've been around a while.

We rested by the pool today too. Just quiet. The desert can be so quiet. We walked the wash. As the sun set, we decided to go into town again to return some things. We stopped at an Indian restaurant for dinner. We ate here last year too. The food is good, and the owners—who waited on us—appear to have absolutely no interest in us (or anyone) being there. It is quite amusing. I've noticed this at many Indian restaurants. I wonder if it is a cultural thing. Never obsequious. (Not that I require that; I'm just remarking on it.)

We went to Antigone again, the Food Conspiracy (a group of musicians stood outside the co-op playing), and then we headed home, down Speedway, the radio turned up loud, the stars out. Life is beautiful.

Now it is way past bedtime.

If you celebrate Christmas or Hanukah or Kwanza or whatever, I hope you have joyful, meaningful celebrations (or at least good food and no fighting). I love the holidays. Mario and I don't buy anything for anyone during this time. Our parents get cards, and that's about it, so we can enjoy it without the consumptive part. It's a time for celebrating the first light, peace, and stories. At least that's how I see it.

I'm hoping to take some time off now. So you all enjoy yourselves. I'll hang out a "gone fishing" sign for a bit.

May You Celebrate in Beauty!



(Spiral Hand photo by Mario Milosevic.) 1 comments

1 Comments:

It is surreal leaving messages on the web for people who're in the same house. But really, it's just the electronic form of putting a note on the bulletin board, which was a very Bisbee thing to do, so I must get over that.

Since you commented on your nose, I wanted to say that it isn't ugly. It's unusual, yes, but in the realm of Faerie, no one would think your nose qualifies you for the ugly camp. Yes, it makes people want to avoid staring so you won't feel self-conscious, but people usually have some reason to want to avoid staring. And, frankly, I think most teenagers would prefer an unusual but not ugly nose to zits.

As for allergies, the desert can be challenging. Emma and I have been lucky, but Midori and the desert simply do not agree. It may be a bit seasonal. And probably everyone takes a little while to adjust to new things growing around them. So here's hoping the allergies settle soon!

By  Will Shetterly, at 1:10 PM  

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