The Furious Spinner

Did I mention we're trying to make space for Linda's daughter? We promised her she'd always have a home with us, and now she's taking us up on it. So we're clearing out the back room as much as we can so she can have a desk and a bed, a place to hang her clothes. She'll use it for studying (and using our wireless), and then if she wants to stay longer, she's welcome. That was the impetus for us getting rid of our junk.

Mario and I talked about this eventuality years ago. Now it might be happening. First thing I realized was that with a third person around, I'm going to need to keep my clothes on. This is easy in the winter, less easy in the summer. I thought about having her knock on the front door before coming in each time, but then she wouldn't feel at home. So my clothes stay on. Not that I'd really care, but I don't want to embarrass a 19 year old. At least not in this way.

What will it be like to have someone else in the house when I work? I mean the machinations a writer goes through are boggling. The untrained eye might wonder: how many times can she eat in a day? How many baths can she take? How many times can she turn up the music and dance around the house? How many times can she put her head in her hands and wonder what happened to her life? How many times can she go out and make love to the flowers? How many times can she check her e-mail? How many times can she find ways to stall?

My own dear husband when he came downstairs just now and saw I'd done another post said, "Write a novel." That is his new mantra. "Write a novel." I said, "No, I'm too tired." "Didn't you write 4,000 words today doing posts?" "Yeah, well, I communed with bees, too. What's your point?"

Anyway, as I was taking my essences out of the back room, I had to make room for them in my room. So I cleaned out my "broom" closet. I found two interesting things. One was a handmade card from Linda. She made the paper and used parts of a wasp nest to make light from the moon. The card says, "And the Moon said: Wonderful beings, I am here. I have lighted your path with grace and beauty, health and wisdom. Follow with wonder. Your steps will not falter. You are guided. With love, Linda." She made that for me in September 2001 before I went home to Michigan.

The second thing I found—and I have no idea where it came from—was a business card size piece of paper with the following words on it, "My gift to you is of light, to light the darkness in your heart, your soul—to light the darkness in you wherever it may reside. Go forth in light in my name, Persephone."

Persephone is Demeter's daughter (or a form of Demeter herself). Interesting how I was reading the Salmon Mysteries yesterday and writing about Demeter, bee goddess, today. Synchroncities everywhere. Dave would be so excited.

May You Synchronize in Beauty! 10 comments

10 Comments:

Well, Kim, I understand how you feel having a 19 year old coming to live with you. Of my 4 granddaughters, two have lived here for a period of time when they were 19 and 20. The oldest, now 23, says she always called "home" when she was headed this way to make sure Gramp was dressed! She met me in the hallway one morning as I was not quite dressed for work and the family joke is that she went blind!

Nice of you to give Linda's daughter the opportunity to stay with you. Life with a 19 year old in the house is definately different...
Luck to you. Vickie

By  Anonymous, at 11:41 PM  

It will be interesting! I'm looking forward to it. Yeah, maybe I should have Serena call ahead, too! Don't want her going blind. Thanks, Vickie.

By  Kim Antieau, at 12:00 AM  

Kim, there is a small inconvenience in having to keep your clothing on with someone else dwelling in your sanctuary with you, but there will be new riches and wisdom to explore here, and this development is certainly a great comfort to Linda. There will be even more dancing, more synchronicity and more moonlight. I loved the card with its inscription and the piece of paper with its Persephone cantrip. Linda sounds much like my dear departed Maggie, and someone I would like to know.

By  kerrdelune, at 5:20 AM  

I love syncronicity.

By  wren, at 5:32 AM  

Been There--Done That

My family has had people "move in" before, and there were seven of us to begin with.

It can be fun (since most of them had been friends of my brother or relatives we had instant playmates).

Of course there was when my Cousin kept answering the phone when the "whistle" from John Madden Football would blow while we were playing that (sounded enough like our phone at the time)

By  James, at 5:53 AM  

I think you're right, Cate. I hope we actually see her sometimes. I remember being nineteen and it was not my best year. I barely survived it, and I'm not even exaggerating (this time). So I hope we can help, and having her around will help me...keep my clothes on! Linda is a gem. I hope she's around for as long as she wants to stick around.

James, that must have been interesting. I came from a big family, too, but my mom was sick most of while I was growing up, so we didn't really have people over. Except for the times when the five of us (five daughters) were fighting, it was a rather quiet household. So I won't mind a bit of activity.

Wren, yes, synchronicity is great. Sometimes during those moments of synchronicity I feel as though I've glimpsed the thread or a part of the web that holds us all together.

By  Kim Antieau, at 1:24 PM  

Kim Said

James, that must have been interesting. I came from a big family, too, but my mom was sick most of while I was growing up, so we didn't really have people over. Except for the times when the five of us (five daughters) were fighting, it was a rather quiet household. So I won't mind a bit of activity.


Well, it was, and throw in that my house was also the neighborhood "crash pad" and. . .

By  James, at 8:39 PM  

Hilarious description of living with a writer! Made me feel decidedly Less Crazy.

'Mario's mantra' cracked me up, too -

Right now, I'm commenting on other people's blogs, taking frequent breaks to sing Sam Cooke songs to the dog, and snacking, but for me, this all serves the writing. Would I write more if I did less living-room-merengue with the dog? Yes. But would I write as joyfully? I dunno.

Still, heaven help the poor fool who comes to live with me.

By  Theriomorph, at 7:33 AM  

I'm glad you giggled. I was laughing as I was writing it, and Mario keeps reading it outloud and laughing. Apparently I hit a nerve. I was rewriting those lines from the Sylvia Plath poem, Lady Lazarus, this morning. "Stalling is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well."

I like your stalls. And you're so right. It is part of the joyful process. Once I actually start writing, then it's just all...mystery. Staring at a blank page (or computer screen) for hours chewing my fingernails ain't for me. It's do it or lose it.

Anyone else have some favorite stalls they'd like to share?

By  Kim Antieau, at 8:29 AM  

Favorite stalls: googling my name, googling Kim's name, googling Kim's books, playing online chess, doing "research," doing dishes, balancing the checkbook, solving a sudoku puzzle, not solving the New York Times crossword.

Oh and by the way, Kim, write a novel.

By  Mario, at 8:34 AM  

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