this is what we have. this is all we have.

the game:
at any time, someone can call the beginning of the game by pulling something out of their pocket and proclaiming, "this is what we have. this is all we have." then everyone else proceeds to take everything out of their pockets, bags, fanny packs, etc. and hold each item up, one by one, saying "this is what we have. this is all we have."

these are the tools of my life:
red-handled knife, often dirty, often dull, and sharpener
a black sharpie
white greasepaint and gold powder
a lighter
cell phone, beeping
slightly glamorous earring which doubles as a toothpick or last-minute gift
masking tape for decoration and minor emergencies and securing poultices
red and white water bottle i got from a bin in ashland for a dollar
lemon balm tincture from the wolf house
bandanna, any color
pouch of tobacco

it would be nice to have a fork, too.

in other news,
it is frosty here at versailles! this past month-moon-cycle has been a steady stream of transformations big and small and guests. after samhain, i quit my job and worked my last two weeks at the residential treatment center. fox went back to work and carrot strolled into our lives as a new housemate-subletter along with their two chihuahua-creatures, potato and kinikinick. the rest of the acorns fell and the leaves continued to drop, the daylight hours starting to fly by, and when i came back from the bay this weekend the mornings are 24, 25 degrees and those white jagged outlines and sparkling nights and mornings are whisperin the coming of winter.

we have begun having fires most every day which means splitting wood and scheming about getting more wood. the cold keeps us orbiting around the wood stove and goose, who has been living in the south wing, is moving out and toward another house or perhaps seattle, bike mechanic work and other family dreams. we got our little car starting more reliably and something started leaking, so she's out of commission again. the deer have eaten all of our kale and broccoli down to the stems but left the wong bok and cabbages untouched. i have a lot to learn about gardening, and the deers' appetites and easy leaps over the fence have been one clear and painful lesson.

soon, tomorrow, i will plant garlic, a bit late but not too late i hope. we got a few varieties from avram, a friend and garlic farmer nearby. i am reading more, a biography of isadora duncan, and getting excited about winter scholarship and dancing too and garden planning again. i am so on fire about performing and making creative work, toward wild theatre and a dance-theatre of rewilding, art emergent from living with the land.

and, good night!