Why I will continue with the practice...

I've been to four yoga classes in my life, the fourth was just this week. I don't do yoga regularly, I don't have a single class I go to, I just go at times that work and I always find it a wonderful way to spend an hour and a half.

Why I will continue with the practice:
Reason #1: I leave class feeling relaxed, happy, lovable and loving.
Reason #2: I feel taller and more graceful, more supple and stretched.
and
Reason #3: Yoga makes grocery shopping fun! When I go to pick up a few things at a local upscale grocery story after a yoga class, attractive men approach me and ask me questions, like "do you know where the salt, is?" or "what kind of wine should I get?" or even "do you do yoga"? In the most recent occurrence I was told, "you're glowing". Since I don't have any official yoga gear, I think this is the result of the practice and the way it makes me feel. I like boys who pick up on the yoga glow.

Has Yoga changed your life?
Please comment and share.

Historie milosne

Ten years ago, on a rainy afternoon in Seattle, I saw a film in the Polish Film Festival that stuck with me. Back then, I went to films when I could, between work and all the responsibilities of being a Mom. Luckily Seattle has a film festival going on almost all the time. They also have films playing at the Seattle Art Museum (SAM) all year round, which is how I finally got to see a film print of Death in Venice. Seattle is where I met Wim Wenders, too and got his autograph and shook his hand and got a big smile from him, but I've digressed.

This film that I saw 10 years ago in Seattle that stuck with me....I can still remember specific images, but mostly it was the story that got me. I remembered it as being about people who get letters that change their life, a priest learns he has a daughter, a woman finds a letter from an ex lover that she didn't know had been sent, a letter that might have changed everything. This is what I love about films, these scenarios that would probably never happen in real life. In real life, the letter would be delivered, or never sent, maybe the priest would find out he had a daughter and pay the mother hush money and we'd never hear about any of it, in films, we get to see the struggle, the decisions, the actions, and what happens next.
I'm digressing again...

So, this film stuck with me, but I couldn't remember the title, the director, the year I saw it, none of that. I asked people about it..I'd describe it to film people: it's black and white, a drama, about a priest and letters and ... no one could figure it out, until last week.

I mentioned the film to a true film guru, though I originally told him it might be Romanian, and he sent me some titles, then I said, oh geez, it's actually Polish, so then he knows the person who programs the Seattle Polish Film Festival and sent me a link to the past programs and there was the film, from the 6th annual festival. To top things off, he knows the distributor who released the film in the U.S. and is going to send a copy right to my house.
It's pretty amazing, considering I sat in that theatre all those years ago and fell in love with this film and walked away thinking I'd never get to see it again. I should take better notes...

Here's more on the film:
Historie milosne
Four stories of love: yearned-for, betrayed, found. In the confessional, a priest is confronted for the first time by his eleven-year-old daughter (and seeks advice from his mother); a married colonel in the Polish Army is reunited with an old lover; a convict is jilted by his wife but has the last word; a professor of literature must decide how to react to a lackluster student who declares she is in love with him. Sometimes things go wrong, occasionally right. (The colonel flushes love letters down a toilet, rather than burn them.) In each vignette, the protagonist is played by Jerzy Stuhr, who also wrote and directed.

blink

I'm glad it's raining, it's a good day to stay inside and move things around, I'm talking about editing, of course, moving words, moving sentences, moving sounds and images.

It's not so good for poor Keni the collie. He is pacing, worried about his sheep, the mythical sheep that live only in his imagination, though he looks for them everywhere during storms: the broom closet, under the sink, in the laundry room. When he was a puppy we took him to Ewe-topia and he did a little sheep herding. He took right to it, his instinct kicked in and soon the sheep were running in circles, led by little Keni. It was like poetry watching him, he knew just what to do and the sheep, well, they seemed to think this is what they were supposed to do to. I felt kinda sad for him having to go home to our little house, all we had was a cat and a backyard, though he did love to herd Annalise and her friends when we went to the park.

We're about ready to announce all the details about the Summer Film Camp for Girls. I'm getting more excited about it. I wish there had been such things when I was a girl. We had softball (mean girls), summer camp, church camp and the summer recreation program. We hung out at the community pool and walked to the Stop and Go and back for candy. I guess we did okay, but it would have been cool to make films back then, too.

A friend sent me the book, Blink. It's about how decisions made instantly are proven to be as accurate/correct/right as those we worry over for days. According to the book, we're wired to make decisions quickly, we know more than we know we know.

Maybe that's why I decided today was a good day to make a particular phone call. I made the call, it went well, progress, forward motion, in a blink.

What would you wish for?

Are you sure?

Last night...I watched what is now one of my favorite movies, Andrei Tarkovsky's, Stalker. It was recommended by Jonathan Marlowe, of Green Cine. He told Kat and I the plot line over dinner and I decided to find it and watch it at the earliest opportunity. It's not available on Netflix, but you can find it in Austin at our very own Vulcan Video (as soon as I return this copy).

What if there was a room that could grant one wish to anyone who entered?
Alexander is a Stalker, he guides people to this special room that exists in the Zone, an area that is off limits and heavily guarded. The film tells the story of what it might mean to have your deepest wish granted, not the wish you tell people about (money, health, world peace) but one that is held quite possibly so deeply in your subconscious that you aren't even sure what it is, so you might come out with something completely different than you expected.

Check it out. It's beautiful. The DVD includes an interview with Tarkovsky's D.P.

It's been a very busy weekend of movies. First of all, though I felt like I was going somewhere new all weekend long, I loved visiting sets of the students I'm mentoring, I loved talking to the neighbor kid about the zombie movie he wants to make and I loved loved loved watching an early rough cut of one of student shoots. It's good stuff.

red, yellow, blue, green

My yard is full of flowers from bulbs that I planted this year and the year before.
I completely forgot about them, and then all of a sudden, here they all are, cheering me up when I step outside or come back home.
I'm looking forward to Easter this year. I don't like to think about last Easter without remembering it's a time of renewal, a time to let go, roll the rock back, step outside and dangle your toes in the water again. (I like to mix my religion with nature.)

This year I'll head to Granbury where Dad says he's got the saddle all retooled and ready to ride. Dakota will be chubby from a winter of hay and carrots and little exercise, he'll be full of himself. That's okay, I will be too.

the animal activists are going crazy

You know people are going crazy when they start claiming that a baby polar bear should be killed rather than fed by humans. It's crazy, it's over the top, it's like buying star wars sheets just because they are cool.
Why?
Here's three reasons just off the top of my head:

1. This Polar Bear was not born in the wild, or in any kind of natural habitat. He was born in a zoo in Berlin, to a mother bear who was born in a zoo. No one is doing further damage to the balance of nature for goodness sake.
   
2. Polar Bears are endangered.
3. He's already here.

As a caveat: Yes, I was the kid who rescued eggs from fallen nests and tried to hatch them, I once rescued a nest of baby sparrows when my friend Linda's dad tossed them out of his Martin house, calling them invaders. They didn't survive, despite being given bread dipped in milk, and smashed bugs, they all died one by one by one. During different periods of my life, it seemed every stray damaged creature on four legs found me and I did my best to help them survive. Thankfully, this time seems to have passed, and while I have collected more pets than I should have, caring for those creatures taught me something valuable. I learned how to care better for myself and I learned that there is a fundamental instinct to help a creature in need live and thrive. This is part of who we are and when we pretend that we should just walk on by and leave it suffering, it hurts us as much as it hurts them, quite possibly it hurts us more.

All I know is that if anyone tries to kill little Knut, I'll be heading to Berlin to kick some animal activist butt.

My list

Kat has list and so do I.
I've been catching up on things:

1. Tax spreadsheets. I put them off to the very last minute because I hate going through paperwork. Done!
2. Editing Roadside part 2. This is hard, as Herb is utterly charming. I'm making it, somehow cutting things I love.
3. Reviewing Brain Brawl, we're gonna tweak it
4. Looking at budgets again.
5. Booked rooms and hotels in France, except for the middle part, which I might just leave open for a bit.
6. Made lots of lists.
7. Followed up on music licenses and even talked to Jeff Hanson.
8. I got some new pens and a brand new red spiral notebook for taking notes. I'm really excited about this. I've been hanging on to pens that I can't count on, I have only working pens on my desk now. This feels really good.
9. Started prepping for tomorrow's meetings.
10. Made an appointment for a hair cut.
    

Still, the new scanner remains in the box. My house is still unsettled from it's busy weekend without me. My hair is looking a bit French, it's a bit long and mussed (this isn't intentional, see #10.)

I thought this was cute:

Alt.heimer's
"Alt.heimer's" is a term that the Slang Dictionary defines as "a condition
afflicting chronic hipsters who can no longer recall if they like something
genuinely or ironically. Example: 'As Ron stared at the hideous leather
pants and retro Star Wars sheets he'd just purchased, he realized his
Alt.heimer's was advancing with terrifying speed.'"
-Rob Brezsny

secret life of dresses

There's a new story.
Check out Number 12.

Out of town...

After enjoying some of the best of SXSW, meeting up with some new friends and hanging out with some old friends, I snuck out of town.

It was nice to drive away on Friday, my pets happily in the care of out of town friends. An old Seattle friend was in Dallas, and we had a great time catching up. This put me close to another dear friend in Fort Worth and I happily shuttled between them.

I went to the stockyards for the first time in a very long time. That area still makes me feel like a kid again. It's mostly tourist shops and "cowboys" doing rope and whip tricks, but tucked behind the main drag, just behind and to the left of the White Elephant Saloon, is the corral for the stunt/show horses. These are some of the friendliest horses you'll ever meet. It's still fun to sneak back there and visit with them.

No trip to Fort Worth is complete without a trip to Town Talk Foods. It's full of a crazy mix of dented, jumbled things, everything from organic dark chocolates for .15c to organic soup mix for .59c. It's crazy and I love to go there...I'm not sure why. (It's safe, just don't buy the meat.)

On the way home, traffic was stop and go outside of Fort Worth, so I headed for the back roads. The upper hill country was green and lush. I love seeing the mini spotted donkeys in a spring pasture.

I came home to find Karen, Nisha and Debbie driving up with snow cones. Karen and I both had dinner plans, but afterwards we stayed up late and chatted with Ryan.

This morning, I woke up early, and had a nice run through the muddy shoal creek trail. I came back to find Ryan and Karen drinking coffee and enjoying the Kolaches I brought back from West. After a lunch with friends, I took Karen to the airport for her flight home. I miss that girl. She's doing great things in NYC, yet she's someone you'd like to have around more often. We were lucky to have her for a week...


I've just finished the last bit of tax prep. for Storie and JOB. This week, I'll book the rest of the trip to France, edit part 2 of Roadside and hope that Jonathan can help me with the title of that Romanian film I saw about 10 years ago and never forgot (except for the title...)

spring...

Lots of meetings this week, films and music, not so much. I've been focused this week on editing, reading and commenting on Kat's script, visiting people from out of town, summer girls film making camp and in between all that, dreaming about the upcoming trip to France.

Last night, had a crew of friends over to welcome Karen back to Austin for the week. It was great. We had pizza and we made chocolate chip cookies and stayed up late and talked.

Spring is here. The Wisteria is blooming right off my front porch, I love the fragrance and with all the rain, it's been amazing.

Still, with spring comes small dangers.
I went on a walk last Sunday with Kat and Ryan. It started raining, so we ducked into a rocky overhang on the Shoal Creek trail and settled in for a bit for shelter and just to watch the rain. On Monday night I started itching a bit just on the back of my right leg. On my run with Karen this morning, I ran right past our little rain shelter and sure enough, there was a patch of Poison Oak. It's important to remember when out in the woods: leaves of three, let them be. Don't get so caught up in watching the rain and smelling the wisteria that you don't see the poison oak/ivy.

sleepy but ready for my next adventure

I was sleepy all day, today.
Last night, Keni, my smooth collie, rearranged the broom closet. He did this most of the night. I love the hell out of Keni, but he's a crazy loon during a storm. It's the collie in him, he's worried about the sheep. Sad that the thinks they are in the broom closet and sometimes under the sink.

It was still a full day. I worked on taxes. I mailed things. Biz stuff. Had a meeting.

Tonight I'll sleep well and tomorrow I'll get up for an early run.

I hung a tattered poster in my office about three months ago with a black and white image of Les Escaliers de Montmartre, Paris from 1936. Leslie teased me that I would just drive myself crazy staring at it. I told her, that it would help me get out of the country. Looks like it's working. I'm going later this spring. We'll travel to Normandy to the site of the D-Day invasion and visit the grave of my great uncle William. Then we'll travel through the Loire valley and slowly head back up to Paris. We're staying in studio apartments, which I've found to be quite the adult answer to hostels.

When I was last in Paris, I ran out of money pretty fast. I made friends with someone on the train and she got me into an already full hostel cause she'd made friends with the manager and he took pity on me. I remember touring the Louvre and the Jeu de Paume and having great couscous on the Left Bank and good coffee and cheese and wine. I lived simply, but I still exceeded my miserly budget of $5/day and whatever I had stashed in my backpack. So I packed up and headed for Chartres where I met some wonderful fellow travelers and toured the cathedral. I remember sitting with my new friends at an outdoor cafe sipping beer and feeling like the luckiest person the world. I didn't think about that boy back home even once, and why would I? In France, in Italy, all over Europe, any woman will feel like the most desirable, adored, interesting creature on the planet.

So, I'm going back and this time I'll also see the D-Day beaches, the Loire valley and Mont St. Michel. I'll go with someone I couldn't have imagined would ever exist during that first trip, my very own daughter. Oh, and this time, I'll drive a car, a stick shift most likely.

I would love any travel tips, advice and recommendations.

The Notebook

I admit to being an incurable romantic. I admit to not wanting to be cured. I admit to believing in true love. I admit to being one of those people for whom cynicism is wasted energy. I admit to crying during this movie, The Notebook. I admit to thinking, while watching it, of love past, love lost and love redeemed. I admit to wanting things to work out, for houses to be restored, for lives to fall to pieces and fall together again.

If you're one of those for whom cynicism wears on you like a grim smile of cool, I dare you, to watch this movie and not remember every time love found you.

I have to go play soccer now.

Saturday

This morning I met Chadwick for a 7 mile run around the lake. I got to run with Eeelie, his super cool pitbull mix. It was great fun and now I'm more determined to figure out a way for Cowgirl or Roy to run with me sometimes.

Chadwick likes to run on the other side of 35, too, so that's a bonus. It's pretty nice over there, the long horn dam, lots of ducks and coots and bamboo and today, the trees, the mountain laurels, covered in buds.

Today, a lot of SXSW meetups and one movie.

In the works: a trip to Paris and Normandy for late May/June.

J.

I've been volunteering at Trinity Center for going on 4 years now.

My Wednesdays at Trinity are my tether. No matter what else is going on in my world, I know on Wednesdays and there will be hugs, stories, jokes, and surprises.

There are sad surprises, like when someone I haven't seen in months, comes in again, but this time they are using, or off their medication, or ill. That happened today and I can't stop thinking about it. This person did all the right things, got job training, had some help, but in the end, it wasn't enough. She's back on the streets.

Something else happened today, too. J. who mostly ignores me, who walks in circles around the tables, hardly says anything at all, who usually looks past me, or seems frightened of me, came right up to me and said, "Have you eaten lunch today? Would you like some crackers?"

It was a big moment, trust me on this.

Now, I can fret and worry that there is no answer for many of the homeless. Many slip through the cracks over and over, they don't get mental health care, or they don't meet the qualifications for available programs. Or, I can remember what our former priest said, "Our job isn't to fix them, we just love them as they are."

Sometimes it doesn't feel like enough.

making the call

That moment when you decide to go down the path, hop on the back of the bike, turn at the corner, or even just pick up the phone and make the call is when the adventure begins.

You might end up traveling to a secluded village, having dinner with new friends, or seeing something so beautiful you've never forgotten it even though you didn't take a picture. I wouldn't have seen the ocean at night from the navigation deck of a ship, or dipped my toes in an off the path waterfall, spent the night at a Catholic school in Venice, or been treated to fresh Pistachio gelate in Italy, if I hadn't taken some risks.

Maybe that's why I picked up the phone yesterday and called one of my film heroes.

break through

The weekend was fine, sunny, cool and bright. I sat in my little office, off and on, editing, editing, moving scenes around, cutting audio into bright little clips and threading together a rough cut of part 1 of the the roadside pilot.

Editing goes something like this:
Aha, that's it!
cut a shot
put it back in
move this shot to the middle
move the middle shot to the end, next to the other one
(break while I check email)
find some more B-Roll
gosh, I love this, have to use it, have to use it, damn I don't know...maybe it's not so good.
cut that first shot out again
find some more B-Roll cause I gotta gotta use that one
(break while I check my horoscope and email)
Use a sequence
cut it into pieces
add B-Roll
smooth it out
do I need this?
I do
No, no, I don't
(check email again)
work it out, stay focused
watch it again
move the ending
cut a shot
put another one back in
create a sequence for all the shots I love most but may not be able to use
(for the DVD extras, ya know?)
(long break to go to the park for the Sunday afternoon soccer session)
watch it again
tweak and move
add something back in
cut something I love
render
watch it
(starving, take a break to eat)
resolve not to get out of chair until I'm done
I'm almost done
One more thing
Done: rough cut

Then comes the only terrible part of film making. As challenging as editing is, it's still fun. It's like a big puzzle. It's sorting and placing and testing.
The only terrible part of film making is building Quicktimes and posting them to the web to share with your producers.
I do this several times. I try to make the file small and smaller and smaller still.
I stare at the screen while the file builds, urging it to hurry, but it has no effect.

When my house guest arrived today, I was happily copying files to a server.

Tonight the dogs and I went for a walk in the park. I missed Saturday's eclipse, but the clear sky was full of stars. When I was a kid, my Dad would get my brother and I out in the backyard and we'd lie in the grass and stare up at the stars. Dad would tell us the names of the constellations, but my mind would wander too much to remember most of them. Tonight it was nice tonight to just remember those evenings.

yes, it is a dangerous world

Yesterday twisters assaulted little towns in Alabama and Georgia, kids died, adults died, and an old man died. It's a dangerous world and yesterday many lives were twisted into despair. My heart aches for them.

Yesterday, my daughter lost control of her car during a rainstorm and had a wreck. No one was hurt. She's fine. This time last year, a driver ran a red light and totaled her very first car, again she was fine, uninjured. This time last year, my father was diagnosed with cancer, it was a time of danger, yet today, he's free of the cancer. About 7 years ago, was the big wreck, the one that tossed Annalise and I around like two cupcakes. Here we are to tell about it.

It's a dangerous world, yet there are moments of grace.

I warn my friends who don't have children, that having a child means that forever you'll have a piece of your heart and soul walking around outside of your body, out of your control, subject to the world. There is nothing you can do for them much of the time. Still, I highly recommend it. It's a good kind of heartbreak.

Knowing that the world is dangerous is like knowing that the sun will rise. It is one of the truths. There are other truths, too. There is joy. There is learning. There is the next sunrise, and the next and the one after that. There is the calm after the storm, the repair, the recovery, the resilience, and then, once again, there is the joy that creeps up on you when you don't expect it and reminds you that after all the destruction and danger, you have much to be grateful for.