Amusings by Amber

I am loosing my memory.  It’s fading into the distance. We keep a screen of pictures in the front room of our house with photos of our life scrolling by.  And, while I remember seeing the photos, I no longer really remember.  My childhood is gone, it’s just a few flashes, mostly of traumatic or embarrassing moments.  But, for the most part, it’s gone. I know I was happy and the pictures seem to support that.  The loss, however, is creeping up my timeline towards me.  I don’t remember our wedding 25 years ago.  The pictures are beautiful, standing on the cliffs over Bodega Bay, but I don’t  remember being there. Perhaps it’s really good that Brian arranges for us to renew our vows every 5 or so years.  I remember the last one, 2 years ago at Burning Man but I don’t remember The Elvis wedding in Vegas or the surprise ceremony at a renaissance fair.  Sure, I have pictures, but it’s just not there. I look back at ticket stubs for concerts and plays I have been to that I remember not

We were working on our giant steam punk duck yesterday afternoon and one of our neighbors stopped by.  Now, he did not stop by because he was our neighbor, we had no clue he lived around the corner.  No, he stopped by because he saw the art car that we were working on and could tell by our actions that we were "Burners".  He introduced himself, got a big hug and asked for help loading some sofas that were on the side of the road further up for $40.00.  The people giving them away were not home, so we helped him, he gave us the money to pass on and promised to come by and say hi again.  We invited him to come by our camp at Burning Man to catch a movie or have a drink on our deck and I have no doubt that we will see him again. This started me thinking.......... If he had seen a fish on the back of our car, or perhaps some religious bumper sticker, would he have asked for help?  Would be have gotten a hug or been trusting enough to give us the cash for the furniture? How

Dad died last month .  We were blindsided by this, he was so vibrant and alive.  He was supposed to live into old age and be that cranky old man that complained about everything.  He was looking forward to leaving on a 3 week adventure through the Northwest Territories by canoe with a group of photographers.  He lived his life out loud and touched so many people, wringing it out to the end.  His last evening was spent taking pictures at a cowboy chuck wagon/music/poetry event in the foothills.  His life was full and well lived. Flint (Kyle) took his life last week, once again we were blindsided.   His life was still ahead of him with so much promise. He was supposed to grow up, enjoy life, have a family and bring his kids around to visit.  He did well in school, played sports and had great friends.  He recently received his passport and was looking forward to traveling to the Lasertag International tournament in Brisbane.  He was one of our "kids" at our lasertag center

I'm fast approaching that indefinable "middle age".  It seems like a shadowy place - midway between youth and old age.  Somewhere between immature and mature.  I am no longer called "young lady". I know that roles are changing and youth is extended everyday, but where exactly do I cross that line?  When do I have to start acting my age?  And what does that mean anyways? Is there some rule written somewhere that as my hair starts to grey, I have to cut it short?  As I approach 50, do I have to stop wearing jeans?  When do I have to stop wearing corsets? (I just ordered a new one, so I hope it is not soon!)  Can I keep my sense of style, I really just developed it recently, it would be a shame to let it go now.  If I continue too far down the path without the appropriate wardrobe, will the fashion police step in and tell me to start acting my age?  Where do I change from a cute chick in a tu-tu at Burning Man to a desperate old lady grasping at her youth? Th

This is Jade, we had Jade for dinner last night and it was strange...... I did not mean to participate so fully in the circle of life, but circumstances obligated me to.  We meant to get 3 hens but ended up with two beautiful roosters.  Unfortunately for us and the neighbors, they thought it was best for the world to awaken at 5:30 am, and 6, and 7 (and they failed to lay eggs). My idealistic ethos of the moment is to eat fresh and locally.  Its easy to do with our garden, our hens, the farmers market and local butchers.  Killing our own meat, however, brought about a reality that I was a little less prepared for.  I remember watching my dad butcher chickens, rabbits and goats when I was young, but that did not prepare me for taking the life of an animal.  Suddenly I was responsible for not only the life and well being of another living creature, but the time and manner of his death. This put a whole new perspective on how I viewed something as simple as a roasted chicken.  Thi

We made the decision recently to leave our "traditional" Christian church and move on in our search of what God wants for our short human existence. This is not a decision we make lightly, it took months of contemplation and discussion to decide. What it comes down to is that what we see in the organized American Church is not entirely what we see modeled by Jesus in the Bible. Jesus spent his life on this earth showing us how to live, how to love and how to worship. He spent his days in the world, eating and drinking with the tax collectors and prostitutes as well as the leaders of the church. He made no distinction based on their "sin". He pointed out more sins in the organized church that among the common people. He did not just go out on Saturday afternoons to the soup kitchen and put in his time, he was involved in their lives. He loved them through not only his words, but through his actions. I am ready to take the time, energy and money that we put into