Raw, idiom: 14a. in the natural, uncultivated, or unrefined state: nature in the raw

Moving house this weekend.

Starting tomorrow, 8am, U-Haul action, dusty boxes, packing up clothes you haven't worn in 4 years that you can't quite bear to let go of because you swear you'll wear them again soon. Even though you won't. You know the drill.

So you may not hear from me for a bit, what with the whole unplug-and-restart-and-install-and-cancel dance that always accompanies moving and its affiliated technologies.

We are so excited.

Did you see this poignant little piece from Dani Shapiro? It's short and wise and tender and honest and real.

While you're at it, click over to my friend Phyllis Grant's blog and read her latest on dash and bella. It's a stellar indicator of how friggin' off-the-hook-sensational her upcoming memoir-slash-cookbook is gonna be.

Speaking of literary genius...

I'm thinking of Willa Cather a lot these days. She who loved the land and found in it her muse, her art, her inspiration. She, too, who fled the plains of Nebraska for the sophistication and the urbanity of New York City and remembered that sweeping land fondly, even as she could no longer ever imagine returning.

(“Let your fiction grow out of the land beneath your feet.”)

You got it, Willa. 

I am inspired by the land and the ways in which it has the power to shift our energies, to shape our hearts, to clear our minds.

I'm on day 5 of a spur-of-the-moment week spent eating 100% raw-vegan and staying booze-free. Not easy at first (I do love my vodka, and my gin, and my wine with dinner...). But, wowza — do I feel clear and fresh and light. Hippocrates was right: let food be thy medicine. Bring on the collard greens and the cashew cheez and the early mornings. Bring on the french press and the pineapple for breakfast in the quiet of dawn.

I am looking forward to the view of Tomales Bay that will soon be my regular wake-up call.

The Adirondack rocking chairs have been ordered and are due for delivery next Wednesday.

Here we go, new little home.

Be well, y'all.


“The earth was warm under me, and warm as I crumbled it through my fingers...I kept as still as I could. Nothing happened. I did not expect anything to happen. I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.”  
― Willa Cather, My √Āntonia


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