Tales from the Foot Farm

New Years in Charlotte North Carolina

2012-01-09T17:22:00.000-08:00

It is now 2012, I have a feeling of wonder and excitement for this year I have not felt in recent memory. No tolerance for any painful relationships or negative people. My world is filled with happiness and light, I wouldn't have it any other way. Join the party. This is a personal statement of my goals for the time ahead of me. If my New Year's celebration was any indication, 2012 will be all my heart desires. I spent the time approaching New Year's eve in Charlotte North Carolina.

Charlotte is called the "Queen City". Named after the Queen Consort of King George III. In case you don't remember your American history, King George III was King of England during the Revolutionary War and spent a huge part of his life after the war depressed over "...losing the colonies...". Queen Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, her complete title, gave good King George III 13 living children. Now that is a Queen!

Charlotte is angular and beautifully regal. The weather is mild, tropical and balmy. Downtown is charming with amazing restaurants and fantastic public art. The largest metropolitan area in North Carolina, this elegant city was home to me for a week of regal wonder. I ate oysters and champagne for breakfast, chardonnay and hot wings at 2 and hung out at the Dean and Deluca wine bar after a major shopping swipe at Neiman Marcus. Was it over? Not by a long shot, remember Charlotte is the Queen City! Everywhere I went that southern charm and hospitality showed itself.
Every city I have ever visited has it's own distinct flavor and the Queen City is no different. The architecture of Charlotte is quite unique. The lines of the city are all about angles. Angles purposefully moving your eye from one place to another leaving you feeling inclusionary in the long ago court of Queen Charlotte. Since I have a distinct feeling in my past life I was regal and hung out with nothing but royal ladies and gentlemen,Charlotte was the perfect venue for my entrance into 2012.

What a treat to indulge all of my little girl princess fantasies. Every girl in Charlotte owns her own crown. Tiaras are all the rage and now I have my own. If you don't own one, let me tell you it does wonders for your self esteem to place a crown on your head, instead of the ball dropping at midnight in Charlotte, the crown rises.

I perused the art of Romere Bearden at the The Mint Museum. Later over raspberry and Mango Martini's the conversation was all about Bearden's influences from Picasso and Modigliani and whether the Charlotte Hornets would beat the Miami Heat! What more could the artist in my soul ask for?

I live in Santa Fe, home to many astounding women both contemporary and historical. Combining the influence of the artistic, business, political and literary women it has been my pleasure to meet and become aquainted with in Santa Fe with a lovely diamond crown is something no girl could possibly resist.

Happy 12 I wish everyone who reads my words the best most spiritually inspired year of your life!

FARM REPORT - ARMY SGT. FIRST CLASS LEROY A. PETRY

2011-12-22T09:52:00.000-08:00

The city of Santa Fe goes all out when it comes to protecting and promoting the welfare and well being of it's youth. Children and education are tops among the many charitable institutions in the City Different. The Boys and Girls Clubs is a place where any kid in Santa Fe can feel safe and protected.

The Boys and Girls Clubs of Santa Fe held their annual Christmas Gala at Bishops Lodge on December 21. I was so privileged to be able to attend this event for such a worthy Santa Fe cause. Bishops Lodge is a breathtaking venue just a few minutes from the downtown plaza. A resort and spa, it is named for French missionary priest Jean Baptiste Lamy, the first Archbishop of Santa Fe. The property consists of buildings nestled in a hilltop. At Christmas the pink hued adobe at dusk topped with traditional iluminaria is an awe inspiring sight.
The celebration was all about the children of Santa Fe. There was the inevitable appearance of Santa and his place of honor giving out toys and bags of delicious candy. This is Santa's season and if he decides to make the party you can bet all attention is generally on him, this year the most important person in the room was Congressional Medal of Honor winner Army Sgt. 1st Class Leroy A. Petry.

Sgt. Petry, an alumnus of the Boys and Girls clubs of Santa Fe is the City Different's very own hometown hero. While in Afghanistan Sgt. Petry lost his hand in a heroic grenade incident. He now sports an amazing bionic hand which I was privileged to shake. The feel of his hand is a touch I will never forget.

Afghanistan is a word to most of us. Of course if you have a loved one in the military you are more intimately acquainted with events in that far away country but I would venture to guess many people would be hard pressed to find it on a map and only associate it with newspaper headlines and a CNN crawler. Sgt. Petry makes it real. A handsome and devoted family man, its hard to imagine the smiling face
that I see tonight with the pain, terror and trauma he and his family have endured.
He wears a dark blue uniform jacket covered with honors and medals. The Purple Heart hangs closely about his neck. So obviously a hero.

When I met Sgt. Petry I saw the future of New Mexico. Something very genuine and caring exudes from him. There is a special aura about him that is evident to anyone who approaches him. I saw a man of intense integrity and honesty. A man who cares deeply about his family, his state, and his country. The ball room of Bishops Lodge was decorated in the rich red hues of Chistmas. There were political dignitaries and contributors everywhere you looked and the dinner was scrumptious.

I sat with Sgt Petry's family and they told stories of a brother whom they obviously admire. They spoke of his sense of humor and his bravery. His mother's eyes as he received his Senate Proclamation were full of the pride of a mother, a look that is without question something every mother wants to have looking at her son.

Sculptor George Rivera, Pojoaque Pueblo Governor, is donating his time to create an interactive eight foot bronze of Sgt Petry that will eventually stand in Santa Fe.
It was a night of inspiration, pride, mariachis, and interesting people. I even got sit on Santa's lap!

THANKSGIVING FARM REPORT

2011-12-08T12:12:00.000-08:00

I spent Thanksgiving in the anonymous atmosphere of a huge metropolis. The ability to walk through Times Square and be overwhelmed with the sensory perception of one's own skin with a million different colored lights reflected on the surface. The Godiva Store sells white chocolate covered strawberries in glittery paper cones while a street vendor hawks ten dollar handbags outside. This is the tasty essence of New York.

Broadway theatres, bistro chairs and tables in the middle of the street. You can have you photo taken with Mickey Mouse, Elmo, or a silver skinned Micheal Jackson. My eyes are overloaded with the eclectic beauty of it all. The artist in me wants to take the colors and embed them into my brain to be recreated later. Photos are useless; you must commit this scene to your memory and make the energy a part of your life.

A holiday star is suspended high overhead on an avenue of stores glittering with diamonds, five dollar pashmina scarves and LV knockoffs. I love New York. It is the Grand Canyon made of cement and steel. It is every imaginable type of food and dirty water hot dogs and pretzels on the street. Carmines for Italian, Rue 57 for French, and Virgil's BBQ and a seats at Ruby Foos for uptown Chinese that is so worth the wait!

Music is everywhere. The Carlyle, Smoke, Dizzy's Club Coca Cola at Lincoln Center or the steps of any subway station. I hear the music I love lit by a million glittering lights all over this amazing city. My rooms are on the 53rd floor on 57th. Across the street is new construction...this building will be 98 stories when it is done. I can look out my bedroom and see the work in progress. It will be fun to measure how much higher this new face of the canyon wall will be when I make my next appearance. I feel suspended in space. At dusk the lights begin to appear out of nowhere and below me, the turquoise waves of a roof top swimming pool are illuminated reminding me of the City Different. Morning finds me having a spinach and Swiss omelet at La Parisiene,meetings to feel out the William Morris Agency and a cab ride to see Alfred Stiegliz at MOMA.

Santa Fe has followed me here, just to subtly remind me of where I "LIVE WORK and PLAY". Over a dirty martini at Trattoria Dell Arte across the street from Carnegie Hall I meet the vibrant and beautiful Marguerite La Corte, Global Trend Tracker and Product Anthropologist. She tells me her Santa Fe story. In the City Different she purchased an Indian Corn Necklace. Enthralled with the vibrant colors of the corn, she lovingly transported this distinct local favorite home and stored it in her jewelry box amid her Cartier and Tiffany treasures. When it was time for the Corn Necklace to make it's New York debut, she discovered the necklace had deposited worms that were now living amid the diamonds. Taking her new inhabitants in stride she laughed, "...just goes to show you, don't wear food, wear diamonds...!"

In Princeton I am invited to a private concert. Among an elite gathering of Jazz enthusiasts, in the comfort of an absolutely awesome home filled with contemporary art, rare books, sculpture and an incredible jazz trio playing the music I love, I met Dr. Ferris Olin. Dr Olin is the director of the Institute for Women & Art at Rutgers University. When she found out where I LIVE WORK and PLAY, she lost no time in chatting me up about her daughter who is the bartender at the Rouge Cat. She has been coming to Santa Fe for years. It seems there is a fabulous house guest in my future!

Lunch with my Facebook Bestie, a professor of Egyptian History who lives in Bonn Germany. She is in New York with her charming 2 year old daughter doing some work at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. On turkey day I am with my children. We cook everything even remotely associated with Thanksgiving and pass out comatose with food overload! Let me not forget a casual and flavorful dinner with my editor Stasia de Marco. She is half of one of Philadelphia's power couples and treated me to a great fish dinner freshly caught on Thanksgiving Day. Sixteen days of east coast wonder with a bit of Santa Fe flavor sprinkled throughout.

FARM REPORT...POLITICAL PROTEST

2011-10-03T12:32:00.000-07:00

Political protest is one of the oldest ways for people of any country to come together and express disagreement with government policies and programs. Since the civil rights movement and the Vietnam War, there have been a few small grown swells of protest. Notice civil protest has once again come to light. This time in the face of growing economic dissatisfaction with the legislative branch of the government and corporate structure of the American economic system. The people are poised to directly change the economic policy.
From the early 16th century Protestant Rebellion to the French and American Revolutions, there have been times when oppressive governmental decisions have become too much for the populace to bear.
Picket signs are something not been seen in America for a long time. Whether it be due to ambivalence on the part of Americans comfortable with their lifestyle or glued to reality TV, this basic American tradition has been asleep.
The Wall Street protests against corporate greed and over zealous police intervention that affect the economic base of the country has inspired national action and attention. Starting with college students, as is traditional in America, this protest resulted in the arrest of 700 people on the Brooklyn Bridge. Americans are frustrated knowing corporate America continues to bonus itself while oppresive tax policies close small businesses and multi national super banks refuse to lend a hand to help everyday Americans keep their homes and lifestyles intact. Political protest rallies are being held in Philadelphia, San Francisco and Santa Fe.

We are a country whose roots remain deeply and firmly tied to helping not the individual but the whole. This is start of the 2012 political conversation.

FARM REPORT SPECIAL EDITION - OPENING OF THE MARTIN LUTHER KING MEMORIAL

2011-09-05T07:26:00.000-07:00

The dream of a little girl...wide eyes, holding her fathers hand.
Days spent gazing from plane windows, train windows, car windows and apartments in strange lands, the dream always there, itching to be brought forward. Agitating to be as free as a bird who flies.
What is this concept of freedom? It means much to different people. I have found to the Shuswap and other tribes of Canada it means freedom to keep their ancestral lands from developers who would claim it for the gods of oil, and freedom to remain a sovereign nation honoring the words spoken to them, not words written later by forien governments.
To Native American people it means freedom to live on thier land and teach and preserve their art and culture for future generations. To never forget who they are.

To African Americans it means equality and acceptance in a place they were forced to come to, build, and maintain but were denied a seat at the decision making table. Even now African Americans are challenged by those who feel ownership to a country they do not own.
My personal dream...to be sheltered by love and peace. Able to be creative, believed in and supported by that love.
These are dreams I believe all people hold close ...love, honor, respect, communication, great meals, fantastic friends. and freedom from stress. This is what true wealth is.
Over the past week I had the distinct opportunity to return to my home, my native land, and spend time with my tribe for a special celebration of these core values that I hold dear. The opening of the Martin Luther King Memorial in Washington DC.

A memorial to one mans search to identify and restore basic human freedom for all people.In his own words"..if we are to have peace on earth, our loyalties must become ecumenical rather than sectional. Our loyalties must transcend our race, our tribe, our class, and our nation; this means we must develop a world perspective..."

From his educational and fraternal roots to the Nobel prize his was a life lead as a testament to the values of love, honor, respect, and communication.
A man who never denied who he was, glorified his cultural roots and shaped them into something special for the good of all people.
I dream to hold my head high, unable and unwilling to deny my heritage, honor my ancestors who traversed the rages of hatred and hell and dared to dream of a life where I am possible.

"...the ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy..."

I dream to live my life with integrity and honor as my father taught me and to impart this to my children no matter how difficult that teaching may be.
In my life I have been to my personal mountain top. I have been to the Lincoln Memorial, I heard a man say " I have a dream", seen evolution continue to manifest that dream. I watched mesmerized as he accepted the Nobel Prize for Peace. I stood outside Ebenezer Baptist Church holding my fathers hand as his body was taken to its final rest, simply...on the back of a wagon drawn by mules.
Now I have stood holding my child's hand and looked at this lasting monument to a unique and special human being.
"...out of a mountain of despair...a stone of hope..."

SEPT..2011

FARM REPORT - REALITIES OF A WRITERS LIFE

2011-08-05T12:42:00.000-07:00

A new chapter is always a challenge. What will my characters do? Who is the center of attention in this scene? Who will they love? Who will they hate? As the writer it is all up to me to decide but there are times when those pesky characters take matters into their own hands. They do as they wish and ask no one for permission least of all me. Creating all types of havoc looking to me to get them out of their dilemmas. Wrecking cars and lives willy nilly all over the place. My women make the worst choices in men giving them fodder for their tears. My men make the worst choices in women yet they remain strong and resilent and never shed even one tear. My characters happy days are romantic and wonderful,their arguments passionate and intense. The water of life rolls down the walls of their lives as it does ones own, sometimes rushing headlong and out of control or meandering lazy and slow. My writing is an exercise in observation of the intangible world. The inner workings of the universe explained syllable by syllable, vowel by vowel, and ever present adjectives to spice up the mix. If it were up to me I would never stray from the comfort of my computer and my words, creating a perfectly imperfectly world, stocking it with interesting eclectic beings. Worldly duties like rent and utilities are now beckoning me with a sly knowing smile to let me know reality really bites. So my self made universe will have to wait, it's back to the foot farm.

FARM REPORT...LEGENDS OF SANTA FE

2011-07-21T10:07:00.000-07:00

In Santa Fe on Lincoln Street stands a gallery called simply Legends. This amazing gallery is a labor of love of two women who clearly stand out in their thinking and their execution of this gallery. Legends is a partnership between the gallery and emerging artists of the area, both Native American and traditional. It was opened by Lauren May in 2007. With no background in art Lauren took a risk. Her love of Native American art brought her to Santa Fe and her passion evolved into Legends Gallery. Artists who were not able to show at Indian Market now had a place show. Since its inception this gallery has hosted many local artists giving them a high profile venue to showcase their art. In 2009 Lauren’s daughter Leslie came to Legends to run the gallery and insure Lauren’s original vision remained true to the advancement of the Native Artists of the area. Leslie and Lauren are a close successful mother daughter team. What makes the gallery work says Leslie is the “trust factor” between mother and daughter. Works of Nocona Burgess great great grandson of Comanche chief Quanhah Parker exhibiting the strong faces of the proud Comanche people are now on exhibit. Exquisite color and interpretation of the natural world can be seen in the work of Karen Algeren. Frank Buffalo Hyde breaks boundaries and mixes the traditional with the contemporary in an unusual and beautiful way. A partnership with the Heard Museum of Phoenix Arizona will bring Andrea Hanley of the Berlin Gallery to curate a new show for Legends. Part of the proceeds for this sale will go to the Heard, which houses one of the most extensive collections of Native American and other tribal art. Leslie says “Legends exhibits a distinct and different point of view” These forward thinking ladies are continuing the tradition of advancing the Native American artists of Santa Fe.

2011-07-11T12:42:00.000-07:00

I met Patricia French one evening at the Lensic Theatre, I knew she was a special lady. Pat French championed historical recognition of women in the State of New Mexico. In her travels around the state she noticed of the 500 historical markers in New Mexico only one recognized the accomplishments of women. Working with the Mexico Historic Women's Marker Initiative in 2005, she helped raised over $300,000 to recognize the accomplishments of women and erect 66 markers across the state honoring the women of New Mexico. She told me "New Mexico is a place without barriers for women". Her words gave me the personal encouragement to try new things on my journey and be fearless. Pat French came to Santa Fe from New York. She was an early childhood teacher; the school she founded in Brooklyn is still in existence today. As a realtor in Santa Fe for over twenty years, her agency French and French Fine Properties in association with her husband Michael grew, as did her love for the City Different In her capacity as the head of the firms marketing and public relations, her insight into the future lead to the creation of SantaFe.com. When deciding to step down from the website she said she knew she was not the final owner. "You don't own anything in this life...you are a steward" In keeping with her philosophy "There is no society unless you bring it!" Pat co-founded Dollars4Schools. Administered in partnership with the Santa Fe Community Foundation, Dollars4Schools raises money through direct giving to benefit specific classroom needs for Santa Fe public school children. Having tea one morning with Pat French was a pleasure for me, this Renaissance lady sparked my ideas, my courage and my vision. Thanks Pat!

FARM REPORT

2011-07-06T14:38:00.001-07:00

I am going through a personal Renaissance. In this journey I came to Santa Fe. A place where this concept is a part of many women's' lives. Acknowledging the talent and creativity of some amazing women is the focus of my blog this summer. Looking at the Renaissance historically, one finds an overall rebirth of culture, thinking, art and science. Santa Fe has given me the opportunity to explore all of these avenues of self expression. To make significant contributions to myself, my children, the community and the world. I am especially grateful and blessed to have been able to be in the company of some special ladies. Women who have embraced changes in their lives and have given back to the community and the world fresh new ideas sprinkled with grace and style. In this time of economic challenges it is refreshing to see women looking at the needs of community, taking a hands on approach and finding new solutions. Now is the perfect time for dynamic new ideas. Ideas to push the City Different to the pinnacle of art, culture, and change for a new era.
So Santa Fe, I would like to introduce you to a few women I have had the privilege to meet. I know you will find them as inspiring and beautiful as I have.

FARM REPORT

2011-06-02T13:57:00.000-07:00

Music evolves and will until time runs out. It shifts through passages, moments, and crevices in your life. As was written and recorded by Quincy Jones, "everything must change". No fear because of the changes that occur in your life, what you must do is embrace them. No one love is like the last love. Look into your new loves eyes and open your mind to something different.
Fortune has let me listen to and know music and art on many different levels, jazz, soul, R&B, hip-hop, gospel and even lately some bluegrass. Renaissance, impressionist, modern and classical painting and sculpture. I find it all connected. The Last Poets were the rappers of their time and Bessie Smith recorded sweet soul music. The call and response of the chain gang is the formula for that motown sound. Drum calls influenced Elvin and Art. Classic Greek sculpture is obvious in Edmonia Lewis work and the fauvist color and shapes of Matisse and the lines of Modigliani give me more inspiration and instruction every day. DH Lawrence was arrested for the erotic love he wrote about, I can write of love as I wish.
This stream of art, music, and lyrics has shaped me. Though some call me a dreamer, I know it is the music of my soul they may not be able to hear. I have heard the best and that ability to hear is what makes me beautiful.

sculpture by Linda Hayden

Simplify our complicated love lives | KOB.com

2011-04-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

Simplify our complicated love lives KOB.com

Our manager stops by Good Day New Mexico to talk about her new book WHAT PASSES FOR LOVE

FARM REPORT

2011-04-15T17:46:00.001-07:00

Having girl friends is the best. Your girl friends can tell you off over a bottle of Gnarly Head California Cab and you will hug them for it. Your girl friend can tell you what you should do with a man who is giving you the blues and you will totally listen....you may not comply, but you will listen. Its a girl thing. Have a table full of food laced with hot spicy green chilies stay up til 3 in the morning crying on each others shoulders. Its a good thing. Its a girl thing. My life would not be the same without my girl friends. Trust me when I say I LOVE the presence of the man in my life. Love the feel of his arms around me and his lips all over my body...however, there is something about the company of my girls that is like a warm loaf of bread. Ladies...never underestimate the power of having your girls. Never underestimate the power of a good time exchanging ideas and feelings with like minded females. Embrace each other, give each other the strength and the wisdom of your combined experiences. Teach your daughters to do the same.

FARM REPORT

2011-04-05T19:50:00.000-07:00

One day in May love saved me
Gave me the freedom to pursue a perfect love
We are perfection and the personification of imperfection
Let the world slip away
All the people and all the opinions of our beautiful imperfection slip away
Stand naked in the rain… our love and no ones words
Have I have inspired you to write a song
Then my imperfect love will have been made perfect
You saved me from the oubliette of my life

I was your gift whole and imperfect

Alone In a new cell of your making living on this remote mountain of pain
Arrives success…
Save me from the aloneness of such success
It is an empty reward….all for naught
Give me failure with you to love me
Never would I chose to live from under your shadow

Years have passed since I sang loves song ..pure and inspired
A song only my beloveds’ ears could hear from me to him and him to me
My beloved who cared only for the sweetness of our imperfect love
The song died but love did not

Love save me from your ears never hearing our song again
Save me from the death of loves' song yet again
We have torn each other to shreds and hurt ourselves to please others
Had no one told us we were wrong we would still think our love was right

Passion scared us…when all we needed from each other was the divinely ordered love that arrived One day in May

FARM REPORT

2011-02-15T15:15:00.001-08:00

Down on the farm we know how hard it is to land a job in this tough economy. Looking for a job? Your feet will take you there and bring you back. Interviews are stressful and we cannot be more serious when we say those toes are a most important asset. What potential employer could resist you when you have taken the time and thought to select the most incredible red peep toe shoes to show up in. Our manager is so very proud of our friend Amy who knows how get the job!

Book Details

2011-02-03T22:18:00.000-08:00

Book Details

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT

2011-02-01T09:25:00.000-08:00

PRACTICE

Chords upon chords repeated

Pieces of melodies perfected daily nightly hourly

Each note more amazing this time than the last

Never tiring of hearing those pieces of melodies

Learned bit by bit

Practice

Wrapped into a brown velvet couch I sip gin and tonic

Learning the liturgy of the music

Notes proven through time to move the heart

Words ordinary people cannot say

Learned bit by bit

Practice

How long we can do this

The landlord says only til 10:30

Always can go later..never wanting to stop

The quest for the perfect note

In the perfect order

FARM REPORT

2011-01-20T08:47:00.000-08:00

I made a turn off of Highway 84 through an archway reading “Ghost Ranch”. Driving down the dirt road, the landscape enveloped me, colors dazzled me, and the quiet peacefulness overwhelmed me.
There was a girl on a ladder picking apples from the trees just past the welcome center. She offered me some and I came away with my white sweater full of little sweet apples that turned into the best apple cobbler I have ever made. She never told me her name but casually said to me, “they have jobs here.” I tucked this information into the back of my head and continued with my day.
Returning to New Jersey, I began to correspond with Debbie Manzanares about the possibilities of a position at the ranch. I was taking care of my mother. She was terminally ill and my life revolved around her care.
As an artist and writer the visions of Ghost Ranch were ever present in my mind. Many people visit this area to learn about Georgia O’Keeffe, when I came here it was the mountains that drew me. Somehow I just knew I needed to spend some time here.
In January of 2010 I returned to the ranch to talk about a volunteer position and went to the top of the Pack Memorial Trail. I had begun learning all I could about the history of the ranch. Returning home after meeting with Debbie Manzanares and Marla Ulibarri I felt more of a connection than I thought possible to Ghost Ranch, but whether or not I was to return was in God’s hands.
My mother passed a few weeks after my second visit to the ranch. She made her transition from this life as I sat with my head on her chest holding her still warm hand. Seven minutes later my cell phone rang, it was Ghost Ranch on the other end of the phone offering me a position here as Hospitality Coordinator.
In my work here, many people ask me how I came to be here and most assume that as I am an artist it was Georgia O’Keeffe that brought me to Abiquiu; but it was not. It was the miracle of the place called Ghost Ranch. While here I have been able to heal from many painful issues in my life just by waking up and seeing what only God’s hands could have created.
My writing has exploded, my painting has evolved in new directions, and my heart has become happy again. This is a wondrous place, a blessed place. I have met world renowned theologians, artists and writers who have taught me much just by being in their space.
It is my prayer that Ghost Ranch will always remain to touch someone else’s life as profoundly as it has touched mine.

FARM REPORT SPECIAL EDITION...THE ELK CAMP

2010-12-10T07:57:00.000-08:00

Dinner last night was a very different affair. Our manager visited the elk camp. What an experience! The elk camp is a magical little village that appears a mile past the green gate. When our manager arrived at camp a fire was blazing and hunters were warming themselves with cups of Wild Turkey and beer telling tales of past hunting expeditions. The guys at the elk camp hunt on horseback and we walked back towards the edge of camp to see the horse corral. Huge white canvas tents with a stove inside house the hunters. The tents are toasty! Warm enough inside to wear your best lingerie. Handsome and talented Josh manned a cook tent equipped with every outdoor cooking toy you could imagine. Of course there was a camp dog; a black and white jack russell terrier, too cute for words. Sitting between the hunters, our manager dinned at a long table set with tin plates and cups. The menu was a cowboy camp meal of tender brisket, baked beans, bread, apple pie and beer. So what does one wear to dinner with the hunters? Camouflage of course! Camouflage everything hats, pants, shirts, and beer cozies. It was thrilling. An evening our manager will treasure forever. Thanks to Valerie and Lee Weiss of Fishtail Ranch Chama New Mexico [http://www.fishtailranch.com/] for a great evening!

FARM REPORT

2010-12-07T16:12:00.000-08:00

Our Manager had lunch with the girls at Cowgirl. The walls are covered with cowgirls in fancy boots from the past. On the patio in the afternoon you'll see a group of players plucking banjos, violins, washboards and cowbells. All the servers wear plaid shirts, crunched up cowboy hats and denim skirts of various lengths. Its about those hats! The brims are rolled up so tight they are totally useless in the sun. The important thing is the Cowgirl statement. Everyone who visits Santa Fe stops by Cowgirl at some point during their stay. It's great when you have a craving for a fat juicy burger and some fries. The jerk chicken salad has personality as well. Trolling around town comparing margaritas is without a doubt a serious Santa Fe pastime and Cowgirl ranks right up there. They know how to make you a really good drink. When the sun goes down The Cowgirl gets funky. The bar is crowded, the band is loud and the dancing is fierce. Highly recommended by our manager who is fast becoming a Margarita maven.

FARM REPORT

2010-11-12T19:41:00.000-08:00

Revelations come in their own time. No manipulating or preparing for them like one prepares for a dinner party. You open your eyes and they just happen. One never knows from where, they just appear. Looking into the red and white shapes of a burning log or yellow leaves spinning toward the ground from a cottonwood tree in fall they are everywhere. This week I have learned to listen more. Take the signs around me when revelations are present and recognize them. To be unafraid to walk on the giddy ground of faith. Just when I thought I was without hope, without a way to express the need inside of me something intangible, something unnameable someone unexpected appeared and divinely gave it a name. Someone touched me out of a crystal blue sky and said well done. Said simply I am proud of you

Pillow book

2010-09-08T20:46:00.000-07:00

Things that make me sad

a yellow bird who dies running into a car and gets stuck in the grill

lost love becoming found love becoming lost love

a dead rat by the side of the road

Hateful words between lovers

chocolate that is too sweet with strawberries.

Touch

2010-07-14T10:47:00.000-07:00

Touch is important. The human species needs touch to think, to do, to be. A mother gives her child the warmth of her hugs or a stroke on the cheek to soothe and comfort. The need follows through one's entire life. When deprived of this simple need one's body can fall into disrepair. Pain and anxiety will most definitely result and spirit deteriorates. Sleep becomes elusive and without rest and resurgence the spirit withers even more. Making love is a need like breathing in and breathing out. This body is shrinking slowly and surely. The clothes that adorn it are loose and baggy. Cheeks that used to be rosy and frame a smile become hollow. Touch is important. One can rub one's hand, touch one's own thigh, but all pales in comparison to a lovers tender caress.

farm report

2010-06-09T17:43:00.001-07:00

Our new farm is located high in the mountains of New Mexico and workers here really depend on their computers for contact with the outside world. The site of choice to connect is of course the ever popular Facebook. Having the ability to chat, exchange pictures and videos with workers around the world is of course the sparkling sheen attracting our farm workers to the ad filled atmosphere that is Facebook.com. Be advised dear workers , all glitter and sparkle is definately not golden. Witness an account by one of our most vigilant farm employees. After befriending, connecting and exchanging emails with what seemed to be a very talented and interesting individual on Facebook over the course of about a year she innocently invited her virtual friend to visit our mountain farmlands. Quick as a wink her casual invitation was returned with flight information. The virtual visitor arrived some two weeks later with more problems and phobias then a newbie at an AA meeting. Needless to say our poor worker was stressed beyond belief when in her absence her guest rummaged through her desk, plucked a precious momento of her deceased mother wrote upon it a simplistic parting message and vanished. Miss Virtual Visitor did not even say thanks for the memories after an extensive tour of the farm and surrounding countryside, three squares a day and bed and bath. So the moral of this weekend would seem to be the virtual world remains the place where one can be anything one chooses to be. Our manager counters with the fact that she has met many wonderful and gracious people through Facebook, but alas one must be careful.

A Paragraph on Corporate Concerns

2010-05-05T14:42:00.000-07:00

Stress is the major reason for the progression of most disease and the discerning factor in healing both mental and physical. Making things more difficult is a human trait. In the work place the more complicated things are the more you have to work to accomplish even the simplest task. If it is perceived one is busy, it stands to reason one must be doing one's job correct? Not always the case. Most things can be corrected and/or accomplished with less mental twisting of brain cells then most will admit to. The corporate workplace has made pushing papers and emails a skill you must master in order to keep even the simplest of jobs. Look what it does to the underlying soul of the individual. Sitting in cubicles typing out emails, copies, and making overlapping files, one doesn't even feel the fight against the very wellness we so desperately seek. When working together becomes a marking of uncrossable boundaries and territorial disputes directly connected to one's seniority; no new ideas flourish. Levels of stress increase, disease of any nature finds a willing, soft, warm place to plant it's seed and grow

Farm Report

2010-03-27T08:46:00.000-07:00

There is a need in me to create something beautiful, alone and untouched. The farm is lonely these days without my workers, but this is how it must be. Many of the workers were sad to see the farms operations change in such a dramatic and drastic way, but change can only occur in this fashion. As manager I rather enjoy revelation of different terrain on the new farm. I rather enjoy the new workers who have come to show me how to make it fertile and fresh. Perspectives will change, relationships will change, and those who thought they knew me will discover they have been laboring under the guise of knowing only what was comfortable for them to accept of me. The new farm is unfolding.

2010-03-22T21:28:00.000-07:00

Make love to me

naughty ever changing spicy love

Eat with me and of me

swallow my soul at every turn

sweep me away in beautiful deep pools

called your eyes

hands the shape and size that fit me

relax me into a blue corduory pocket of love

I sleep peacefully your hands fitting my thighs perfectly

tears are now in my eyes

ever the questions of my truth integrity and direction

separate my withered impaired past

questions answered too many times to count

manipulative spirits always crushing creations

you were different

understanding the depth of a free simple spirit

needing only sun and air to grow

giving me the sky to wear and hope for more

gifts given to you to use only for me

you leave silently on my doorstep

pain of your love and love of your pain

inextricably woven together

FARM REPORT

2010-03-08T20:23:00.000-08:00

Our manager has set out for new vistas in the west. She passed through Virginia, West Virginia, and Kentucky over the past few days. Seeing the country from the ground instead of the air. Stopping in small hamlets and taking side trips off the interstate to see the sights. Taking the advice of experienced road trippers she is staying away from all fast food and taking her vitamins every day. The manager's life has been stressful over the past few months. Serious family issues have taken a toll on her. She is gaunt and tired. Her spirits are slowly returning as the landscape passes by. Calmed by rolling hills covered with horses grazing lazily and slow moving streams. Equipped with music, water and new sunglasses she is finding peace traveling in the Pathfinder. She stops when she wishes and eats when she feels hungry. Her spirit is returning.

The Kiss

2010-03-07T17:50:00.000-08:00

Sisterlove

2010-03-07T09:27:00.000-08:00

Women value yourselves
create lasting bonds
the ability to create life gives you the ability to forgive,
love and nurture each other over good times and bad.
Soft warm sisterlove
Welcome each other into the red tent
cry there, give birth there and always know it exists for you to
retreat to.
Learn and teach your daughters
Value the love

Farm Report

2010-03-04T16:01:00.000-08:00

Our manager has decided to go on a single road trip. Deciding to see what is on the side of the road. What beautiful flowers and creepy bugs reside in mountain towns. Look for crop circles in the middle of the country and fresh honey made from the wild bees. A road trip of epic proportions. Our staff has been holding goodbye parties all week. We will miss her so very much. Our farm reports will consist of reports from spaces and places she will be stopping. Check back often.
Take the time to listen to life calling, no matter how faint; answer. Re dos are non existent.

FARM REPORT

2009-04-29T22:39:00.000-07:00

This is the Foot Farm and toes are our passion. We soak them, scrub them, and rub them. We apply lotions, scented oils, paint them and adorn them with flowers and jewels. Our lovely toes take us wherever we want to go and never do they question why we want to go there. Look down at your tootsies and contemplate just for a moment your life without them. Think of the splendor of being able to feel wet sand sliding beneath the soles of your feet on a warm beach. Would you miss sticking them softly into furry slippers, pink stilettos or sexy silver sandals? What good would 150 pairs of shoes do you with out the toes our workers here on the foot farm treat with so much tender loving care?
This is just to remind you to always take great care of your lovely toes. Love them no matter what. Flex them and wiggle them often. Take a nice long bath and put them up on the edge of the tub, wave at them and blow kisses. Thank them for bringing you to every moment of bliss and pleasure that you have ever enjoyed. Cover them with bubbles, lather rinse and repeat. Dip them in warm peach paraffin or cover them with scented sea salts. Thank them every day for being the incredible instruments of lovely transportation that they are. If you ever for an instant think that you can do with out them think again. Our manager would like to remind you that we live to pamper toes. We deem them the most perfectly formed part of the body. If you think our work frivolous and unimportant, we ask you think for one moment if you lost those pink painted toes. If they fell off one day never to be found again. If you woke one morning and they were gone forever. Bring them to us faithfully and let us file clip and rub them. Most of all never ever take those ten little piggies for granted. Our color for the week is Bunny Nose

FARM REPORT

2009-04-12T21:57:00.000-07:00

The Foot Farm would like to invite all writers to the first season of Story Survivors. We will be holding write-ins across America and choosing thirteen lucky scribes to move to the farm. Once here they will be required to move into bare housing on the Foot Farm and work along side our workers learning to harvest toes like pros. There will challenges to overcome.
Who writes the best first person short story where the main character is involved in a life threatening situation with a bottle of nail polish? Eliminations will be heart wrenching, judging will be brutal. Thirty days of writing until challengers’ brains are spewing smoke from their nostrils. Housed three to a room they will have only one dictionary between them. No PCs or Macs only a manual portable Smith-Corona typewriter, onion skin paper, four number two pencils and one pencil sharpener.
The judges will be brutal yet honest in their critic. There will be tears, emotionally charged arguments and retribution when plots are mysteriously leaked. A romance will develop between two of the challengers. One challenger plots against the other writers by stealing their onion skin paper. Somehow it will come down to the final four writers. . Whose story will be chosen? Whose adverbs will reign supreme? The Foot Farm will become wildly popular and workers will have trouble keeping up with the demand of visitors who want to visit. Get ready, writing samples are being submitted and the lucky thirteen are being contacted to bring their ideas to the Foot Farm. Our color for this first season will be “Scarlet Starlet

FARM REPORT

2009-03-25T20:49:00.000-07:00

Farm workers traveled this week to stay at Mabel's House. We stepped inside of history. Bathed in it, slept in it, and it inspired us. In a steamy hot bath scented with lavender we looked to the left and saw what the hands of man could never hope to create. Surrounded by the color and words of D H Lawrence painted and written to soothe the soul of this woman who lived a life dedicated to filling the world with beauty,drama and inspiration.

As a writer I begged to soak long enough to be worthy of being in her space. I sat in the drawing room and felt the intense conversations of parties long ended but forever suspended in soft yellow light. Serenaded by a city of long tailed birds.

Artists still come to sit in magnificent sturdy chairs at tables piled high with hot scones and eggs with black beans chilies and cheese. They meet, they talk, and they find love. They laugh and live as their passion decrees. It is as she would have loved it to be.
Writers still filling their pages with words written on black sticky courier typewriters in the little rooms downstairs. Photographers cannot resist stopping to unload their bags of lenses.
There is magic in this place. Magic that crosses the centuries, spreads out over a huge meadow and drapes itself over the mountains where you can see the wind. It speaks to me, calls me and wraps its clear blue sky around me like a long lost lover returned to claim me. Farm workers have left a piece of themselves in the cave of an ancient woman grinding corn on a stone. Their hot pink toes were painted with flowers and appreciated as small works of art.

2009-03-05T18:56:00.000-08:00

Farm Report

2009-03-03T18:44:00.000-08:00

Days on farm have been sad and stressful lately. There was a fire on a neighboring farm.
A horrible accident, our workers could only stand and watch as neighbors, we cherish so much, were lost in the flames. There is no way for us to know whether they suffered or were lost by the force of the explosion. Things on our place have been dragging ever since news of the tragedy reached us. Production has been affected by sadness. Work songs we usually sing have been replaced by sleepless nights punctuated with sounds of burning wood and dreams the orange hue of hot flames.
One of our best workers was hit with news of illness in the family. We gathered around to give our support and love in the only way that we know how. We stayed up late and did each others feet. We polished, painted, rubbed and scrubbed until we all felt better. Workers fell asleep in exhausted heaps and woke the next morning feeling somewhat relieved. Happy to be able to look down at toes painted Most Honorable Red.
We have not been fazed by news stories of monkeys being murdered on street corners. Monkeys on display in book store windows, and monkeys who say that Our President should fail. At the monthly meeting of farm managers the conversation was filled with excitement. Our President was going to speak. We listened and nodded our heads at the words of encouragement that we heard, and smiled at a cute little girl who promised she would never quit. As we continue about our business, squeezing as many feet as possible into our days, biking to visit our neighbors and taking classes to elevate our minds, we are confident. We are so glad that he had time to grab a cold one, kick back and watch the game; have a lovely dinner, be rested relaxed and restored.

FARM REPORT

2009-02-12T12:54:00.001-08:00

We hosted a lovely pasta night this week. Workers from neighboring farms in our area came over for food and conversation. It was a lovely night. The conversation was dominated by the dreaded economy. We agreed we all need golden parachutes and bailout money. Reality set in and we shared our views on the President’s economic policies. All of our neighbors, even those from the most prosperous farms are on board with the saving, planning and conserving philosophy that the first family is bringing to the nation.

Budgeting is now the in way to live, think, and behave. One farm has frozen all of its credit cards in huge blocks of ice. They couldn’t bear to cut them up. Even the littlest farm hands are into the budgeting way of life. It’s become chic. One of our neighbors suggested that we read Total Money Makeover by Dave Ramsey. Excerpts were shared over walnut cake and apple pie and all farms have decided to read this book.

To stem the rising economic tide our farm has begun an aggressive marketing strategy. We decided we needed to talk directly to some new feet. Next week will be all about writing the copy for a new radio show.

Workers from our farm were invited to share a great vacation. We were sadly disappointed when plans were abruptly cancelled. We are still crying in our soup about the loss of vacation time. Life can be stressful slinging feet.

FARM REPORT - POST INAUGURAL EDITION

2009-01-25T20:52:00.000-08:00

In the midst of moving the base of farm operations Farm Workers received the opportunity of a lifetime, an invitation to attend the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States. After much discussion about schedules and finances we decided that we could not pass up the opportunity, and then the real challenge began. We needed to secure accommodations, we had to get travel plans to get to the big event.
Workers called in colleagues and found rooms at the world famous Diva Den located just steps from the capitol. Farm workers were ecstatic at the sudden opportunity. The Diva Den was booked for our dream inaugural weekend. Even though the workers at the Diva Den were busy putting the finishing touches on inaugural ball gowns they pushed fabric swatches to one side and made room for our workers. An opportunity for rail tickets to the big event popped up and workers snapped them up, deciding to worry about how to get back to the farm later.
When we got off the train in the Capitol the atmosphere was electric. People were smiling and talking and laughing with total strangers. The entire city seemed as if it had landed at a long awaited immense family reunion. We all knew each other and smiled and nodded as we passed each other, we each shared the same favorite relative who was being honored. We were all holding the bible for him.
Workers attended a few parties in a city that was ablaze with parties. Homes were decorated in tiny red white and blue lights and flags. Pictures of the President were mounted in every window. Ben’s Chili Bowl had folks ten deep at the counter and lined up around the corner and down the ally. Chili dogs are the new national snack since the President stopped by for one. People were dancing on the street corners and eating crab cakes at Busboys and Poets on 15th and K.
The finest legal minds from Howard University celebrated by toasting every father, mother, grandmother, and grandfather, every nannie and pop-pop upon whose shoulders the President now stands and they debated long into the night mirroring the great discussions and debates that had made this night possible.
There were elegant balls serving champagne and caviar and house parties serving rabbit stew and gumbo. More stories and tales then workers will ever remember each one more meaningful than the one that came before it. Even though we were crushed against each other, cold and shivering, praising our President with gloved hands; millions of ears leaned on his every word. It was a moment felt through our collective ages down to the first naked foot that touched these shores. Everywhere, everything stopped and the world turned to hear him. All eyes, all hearts are fixed on the 44th President. He has changed everything in the blink of an eye.
Workers watched in wonder as he surveyed his opportunities, his head steady and his mouth set and determined. It has all changed. We were there, the color was love.

Farm workers wish to thank the following for thier contribution to our incredible Capitol Experience....Effe a fabulous friend and Veronica host of the Diva Den;Dr. D, Rick and Theresa Ellis for thier outstanding hospitality, Lauren and John Graham for being wonderful as always, the Honorable Charles Rangle for the best view in town! Of course much love and honor to The President of the United States.

FARM REPORT

2009-01-14T03:10:00.000-08:00

Renovations and additions are now complete, the farm is up and running smoothly. It was hard work. Workers spent many hours hauling equipment to the new location but thankfully we are all settled and back to our chores. We have added new services to our already extensive menu and that brought us tons of new visitors and of course new tales.
To welcome our workers to the neighborhood we were invited to a party. The neighbors are eccentric to say the least. Tales were told of one who had his house renovated into an exact replica of TGI Fridays. We wonder what a birthday party must be like in those digs. Would waiters appear and sing that hokey birthday song? Now, the tale of two dads. These guys were so involved comparing new high end SUV's and talking on slick crackberries they forgot their real mission was to take the kids to Chuckie Cheese. Poor chillin got left on the curb! The Eagles won the football game, we know this because our workers got to see it at the party. A wall sized HD projection screen. We are dismayed to report that certain sportscasters need to trim their nose hairs.
Our quote of the week "the higher you go up the flagpole the more your ass shows."

Workers are reading Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen and praying for tickets to the inauguration. Our color this week..."Marooned".

CHANGE

2008-12-28T21:19:00.001-08:00

Neat hot green Mississippi fields
Planted and plowed by the spirits of my heart
Backs bent to their labor
No longer are they flesh and form
Yet they are tangible to me
They brought the green sea to life

Remanded here as part of the peculiar institution
In this, the land of the almost free
Year upon year their generations could not wander
They had lost the meaning of that word
Remembrance of their language meant death
Some how those sweat soaked bodies knew they must survive

The green sea sprouts from a thick fluid vascular bed of memories
A field wet with the technology of today as it silently irrigates
The bones of the ancestors as they sink deeper into the depth of the green sea
They lay in a scarred battlefield with no markers or flags of remembrance
Nothing to shout their names no pictures of their faces
Here in this Mississippi field they rest
Chosen to be there as I am chosen to be here

The green sea parts to expose them for an instant
They need to see what profound change their lives inspired
They can walk unafraid and have their say in the front room of the big house
Children….we have realized our dream
We speak and now they listen
Like lions we roar
We read
We write
We laugh loudly and love without fear

They marked us down as one third of a human being
Branded and numbered
Look at us now sweet spirits
Rise up and look at your children
It is our voice chosen to lead the realignment of mankind
Open your eyes once again with pride and fulfillment at your strength
From the lands of our ancestors we have arrived to part the green sea
Look at who we are now
We have changed everything

Farm Report

2008-12-28T21:10:00.000-08:00

It has been a slow week on the farm. Workers have been lazy lima beans all week!
Even though we were not shopping and cooking and having tons of company we have all enjoyed our holidays immensely. We are comfortable with the way things are going and are looking forward to our new President being inaugurated on January 20th, so we hope that you will enjoy our interpretation of why the workers on the foot farm and the rest of world is so excited about the the 44th resident of the White House!

FARM REPORT

2008-12-23T09:46:00.000-08:00

We here on the foot farm have been able to expand operations to new and ever greater levels. One of our first new visitors flew in from LA just to see us. She was quite special and carried a cell phone covered in clear Swavorski Crystals with her initials in pink. So very LA don’t you think? Our discussions this week were very much about cultural differences in families. Intermarriage between distinctly different cultures is becoming more popular. In the past we have been aware of love and marriage in this country between African-Americans and Whites, but let us consider Americans and Colombians, Muslims and Christians, Indians and Pakistanis. The differences are immense and become relevant when considering raising children and dealing with family members. Something as simple as asking “what’s for dinner?”, can become a source of tension.
Holidays and birthdays may be celebrated in different ways. Love becomes complex when it crosses some sort of line. In our opinion love is something we need to have in order to breath. No matter what the difficulties may be in realizing that love. To be held, to be kissed, and to be touched by another person who makes one feel complete; that is necessary. One of our most loyal visitors has always said…. it’s your time on earth…
So not matter where you find love, embrace it. Happy Holidays…..our color is Rudolph’s Red Nose.

FARM REPORT

2008-12-14T17:30:00.000-08:00

This intriguing tale was told by a visitor from Vibe Magazine; a commentary on the music industry. Remember when every city had at least one legendary record store? In New York City, Colony and Tower Records were places artists stopped and fans hung out. Music was touchable and collectable. Even CD’s didn’t really put a damper on the fact that we collected our favorite music. Now the industry is almost unrecognizable; every thing is downloadable.
Musical genres have a muddy line through them. Distinctions between Jazz, R&B,Pop and Hip hop have faded in the downpour of economics. Can magazines like Vibe survive to cover Hip Hop when the NY times is doing it mainstream? As our visitor from Vibe magazine said…Thank God for Lil Wayne or we would have really gone under…
Artists are utilizing the internet to exist in venues where they have freedom to write, post, and perform the art of their lives. They welcome thier fans downloading thier creations.
Gangster rappers are now called moguls. They have clothing lines, labels of high end brandy, and reality shows on how to be good parents. We farmworkers are certainly not haters, it’s the American dream come true.
We wait patiently for the newness of artists still developing a craft through experience and practice. Those who are “in the shed” as we write this, not standing in line for a national talent contest, but learning to read music, play music, and write actual words; practicing and living thier art.
The color …..I Said Red

Rudi

2008-12-07T15:13:00.001-08:00

This was written for a dear and close friend...

You were my half in life
Kept my most secret secrets
Not ever questioning or judging
If decisions were wrong you never told me
You went along happily with each one

Moving from city to town
Smiling at each new curve in the road
Others spoke harshly about our nomadic existence
You just asked for more chicken

People drifted in and out of my life
As my friend you were always there
Miles I could drive and never a complaint
You just enjoyed the peace of my company

From the time that you were young and spry
From the time you could run like the wind
You would look back at me with eyes that sparkled
Listening for me to call your name

My half in life was you my friend
Sleeping with me through every nightmare
Comforting me when it was done

Transitory is the order of this existence
Our own unique time here
Bridges to cross and miles to tread
To have shared it with you was my luck
To have known you was my honor
My half in life, my friend, there will never be another

FARM REPORT

2008-12-07T14:05:00.000-08:00

Workers were amazed at the range of tales collected this week. Many were told, but few were chosen to make the report.

The "beautiful rebellious banker". Talked down from the ledge by friends after she threatened to tell her bosses exactly what she thought of them. Not the best idea given the wretched economy; she decided on a afternoon at the foot farm instead. A great choice. We scrubbed, rubbed and wrapped with warm towels. Wearing Caviar Dreams or A Big F U to your boss on her fingers and toes she told them sweetly what she actually thought of them and still kept her job.

The "south carolina peaches". These delicate beauties were agonizing over the need to move operations to New York. Shocked at the fact that nine thousand dollars a month would only get them a pied a terre the size of their current closet and no room for the three furry children. Sadly they realized they will have to buy an all black wardrobe and put their lovely pink sundresses in storage. We painted them National Velvet.

World renowned artist J.Leone came by to soothe a toe injured when she made the choice to sacrifice it to save a piece of art. Were we impressed...? you betcha! She regaled us with stories of trips to the rain forest and detailed descriptions of her latest art project. We were fascinated by the photography process, invented by the eclectic artist,to capture the beauty of Piazza San Marco in Venice and we all want to touch that paper that she swears is better than sex! Yikes! Oh yes...the color..Linkin Park after Dark.
Our favorite visitor this week was without a doubt the quietly intelligent graphic artist who was playing parlor games for the evening. She will be riding her bike to the inauguration and flashing Russian Sable on her toes.

FARM REPORT

2008-12-02T21:16:00.000-08:00

It has been a trying week down on the farm. Workers have been sick, and there was a dry spell of new visitors. It seems that the wretched economy has infected our fields as well. Toes are curling up before our very eyes. Maybe our new first lady will go on national TV and tell everyone that she cannot do without her biweekly visit to the foot farm. This would definitely give us an infusion of new feet to service. We would be happy to name a new color in her honor.
Our workers usually have lunch sent in on the weekend and this turned the discussion to food choices. Pizza has been a favorite of the workers for some time, we have discovered that topping a slice of cheese pizza with salad and wrapping it up is the next best thing to heaven. Speaking of food choices what is up with lunch carts on the street serving heaping helpings of mystery meat for consumption? As you can see we were bored out of our minds this week.

Tropic Wind

2008-11-24T08:18:00.000-08:00

This is piece that begs for a vacation in some hot spicy spot. Grab a cold one, relax and remember your best vacation.

Tropic Wind

Without warning
The intruder enters
Blows away a cover of bright parrot feathers
Brushes across a naked breast

Her skin is hot and yearning for a touch
This subtle touch does not disappoint
Wrapping steamy gusts around her thighs
caressing them with idle abandon
It is the way of the wind

Vibrant fish swim through outstretched arms
Swept away by the demanding breeze
Together they float along ribbons of vibrant hues
Meeting like transparent butterflies
On throbbing wings of passion

Immersed in the art of love
Transfixed by the presence of fate
Filled with the taste of a sparkling embrace
Touching that most private possession
A moment claimed forever for the wind

FARM REPORT

2008-11-24T07:53:00.000-08:00

All kinds of people stopped by the farm this week. One group of visitors made workers think they had been given a free ticket to a Jerry-Maury show. These tales turned heads all over the farm and will definitely show up somewhere. They are way to exotic for workers to just toss aside. They were gathered up and stored in our warehouse for future use. We had a group of visitors from London again. Must be the dollar versus euro situation that is bringing all the limeys to the farm for the weekend. An eight hour flight, jet lag, and cram everything you can into two days. These visitors were falling asleep as they picked their toe colors. Speaking of colors, it was "Vodka and Caviar" all week long. A travel agent who passed by made workers swoon with the thought of traveling far from the farm to visit warm and wonderful spots on the globe. A party of lawyers came by. Generally an interesting group, these legal eagles were so boring that the workers began painting each others toes. We all agreed on "Hello Gorgeous" then had our tarot cards read.

Farm Report

2008-11-15T21:26:00.001-08:00

Hard week down on the farm. The workers are getting testy with each other. Due to the fact that the economy is in the toilet, the harvest was poor this week.
Here is the report:
It was decided that Uma Thurman has the best keep toes. If you want to dispute that check out Kill Bill II. She displays them polished to perfection. Speaking of polish the most popular color this week is without a doubt "wicked". There is not a bottle to be had, we definitely need to get more!
The girls from Modern Bride perked up our week with tales of breast lifts and other mammary subjects. There was a serious debate on nipples the size of half dollars and just how big an areola can get.
Visitors from London gave us the scoop on hair extensions and the methods of torture used in the tower of London. My personal favorite was the bamboo shoots (too gross to tell!)
What are the workers reading this week? "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac was left on the tractor by some anonymous spirit so we are discussing that along with the regular trash. Got to keep up with the celebs!

2008-11-14T03:22:00.000-08:00

Now that you have found the Foot Farm here is a little info. We work with only the freshest feet possible to bring you these tales. Our feet are organically grown and lovingly washed prior to harvesting these stories. We bring you tales that have been carefully processed, scrubbed and polished just for you..... only the most interesting tales make the blog. Many are told, but few are chosen. Check us often we provide fresh, quality...sometimes spicey, but never bland, Tales from the Foot Farm

The Seasons

2008-11-13T20:18:00.000-08:00

This is romantic love story of love lost and then reclaimed...think Bridges of Madison County....if you like that story this is right up your alley...kick back get that cold one and just ENJOY!

THE SEASONS

Diamond Cab 2346 crossed the Fourteenth street bridge toward the airport. The window was open. Just her luck, a cab with no air conditioning. A steamy soft hot haze blew like damp morning dew. Not cooling, just there, covering her face, wrinkling her suit.
Getting out of town, a four day work weekend. Slipping from a simmering city to the mountains just west of Denver. An intense work schedule, but she arranged additional days just for herself. The hotel featured a spa, so time was reserved after the meetings to indulge herself. Four days of marketing plans, and corporate games followed by a little self appreciation.
The plane touched down in Denver, the shuttle was waiting to take her up the mountain to her hotel.
“Any objection to another passenger?”
the driver asks.
After the long flight she just wants to get to her destination and shakes her head no.
“Thanks I appreciate the share.”
She looks up into a pair of intense green eyes that make her smooth her yellow linen suit and think about the condition of her lipstick after six hours on a plane.
He looks at her. Hair in disarray, her suit reflecting time spent in an airplane seat, and asks if he can start his assignment with a picture of her.
“Oh….! I am a mess! Please, another time.”
He raises the Nikon and clicks off two quick candid shots.
“You look amazing to me”
They fall into easy conversation.
“Thanks for the share and the photos.”
He grabs his bags and is gone quickly. She checks into a business friendly room and settles in for a work weekend.
Charts, trends, and meetings take her mind and time for the next four days. He rises early, searching the hotel grounds for the right pictures to draw tourists. They never pass each other. If they do recall their meeting, the memory has faded behind a schedule of separate missions.
The morning of the fifth day, her private retreat begins. The morning of the fifth day he finds a peaceful grove of red and gold flowers growing easily beside a tickle of a river. That afternoon she enjoys a manicure and pedicure choosing a hypnotic color of red called Hello Gorgeous. That afternoon he looks at the photos from the grove, pulled in again by the vibrant hue of the flowers.
The next morning she decides on a walk, finding the way to the red and gold field. He takes more than two hundred photos but the grove is by far the most beautifully balanced so he opts for one last look.
The sun has grown high, bright and warm in the late morning sky. She sits on a smooth rock, her palms pressing down beside her hips, her chin reaching up to the light of the sun. If she could keep this moment in time forever she would.
The lens of his camera catches her. Everything in perfect symmetry. The colors of skin, sky and earth in smooth harmony. Her head turns slightly to the left and he is looking right into her eyes. It is as if he has found her naked. She crosses her hand over her breast and fingers a slim silver chain with a single drop of turquoise falling from it.
“You seem to always be snapping me at my worst”
He smiles partly with his mouth, mostly with his eyes.
“It’s a beautiful picture, may I show it to you?”
Over dinner he shows her the picture. They spend the evening enjoying each other’s company. They begin to know each other; they begin to feel comfortable together. She studies the photo in the grove, by far her favorite place of the last few days.
There is music; he asks if she will dance with him.
“He is going to touch me, what shall that feel like?” She asks herself
His fingers; long, slender, light around her waist and on her bare arm. She fits to him, and he to her. Caught in each others arms, the music lasts just long enough.
A kiss, natural as if they had kissed many times before. So far to travel to find such a kiss. To her, his lips feel smooth. To him it is entirely right. His hands glide easily over her shoulders meeting hot skin on her back.
Her body doesn’t want to leave this moment. Is it possible to stay there? Her head in his chest, her nose committing his scent to her memory? Together they record the scene forever. Walking back to the hotel, their bodies so near. Their steps match perfectly.
The elevator ride is filled with a silent question. They reach her floor first and the doors slide open. She steps from the car, sliding her hand from the cradle of his arm. They say nothing. The door softly closes between them and she turns to catch the last of those green eyes.
Why didn’t she just ask him to come with her. Why didn’t he ask her the same question. He is leaving in the morning, her flight is not until two. She decides to check out late. Meeting him in the lobby would be awkward to say the least.
Finalizing her charges the luggage is taken for her by the bellman and loaded into the shuttle.
“Miss, there is a package here for you”
Quizzically, she takes the small brown paper bag and rolls the top open. An exquisite turquoise and silver box, inside, softly melting petals of red and gold flowers. She wonders if she will ever see him again. Lifting the box to her nose she prays that she will.
The silver box finds a place on a small bookshelf among art books and a crystal vase. Undisturbed, dusted faithfully once a week. Never opened.
Hot summers will always fade. Turning into crisp autumns and stiff cold winters. There is no bargaining with the seasons. No exchanges, and never does a season reveal itself before its time. An exact perfect serendipitous moment. No one can predict the day the grass turns green, or the instant the first drop of rain falls in a storm.
She has kissed since that kiss and made love since that kiss. All those kisses were insignificant beside a silver box filled with those melted petals that had desiccated into a fragrant memory.
On the maple shelf behind his desk in a small black lacquer frame there was the image of a woman. Relaxed and taking the sun surrounded by a profusion of hot red and yellow flowers. Rarely did he ponder the image anymore. He has taken many photographs since that day. There have been many women with whom he has danced, but the feel of her skin and her smell remain with him
“I shouldn’t have to call you! You are one who chose this place….get up!!!! We have to be starting this seminar in 20 minutes.“
“Oh……I’m sorry this bed is so comfortable!”
“You and your hotel beds. You travel way too much, you need to settle yourself!”
“I know, I know… Ok, I’ll be down on time, thanks for the wake up.”
Rolling over in the sumptuous bed she reflects on her first visit to this hotel and a silver turquoise box, moved many times over the years. She willed herself out of bed and into a hot shower. Minutes later she was taking the elevator down to the lobby.
It was as elegant and refined as she had remembered it.
She walked quickly to the desk to find her meeting room.
“Take that last doorway. You will pass the double doors leading to the spa, then take a left. The meeting rooms are all on that hallway.”
Smoothing the lines of her yellow linen suit she walked to the doorway and the short distance to the doors leading to the spa. The hall was painted a cooling mint green with ivory crown molding that trimed the ceiling. Columns on either side of the spa door held tall red ginger blossoms in white marble urns. A gold frame hung on the wall directly across from the door.
Her head turned to take in the contents of the frame. It was a photo of a woman, her back to the camera her face tilted up to the sun surrounded by gold and red flowers. Alone, captured in a moment; still yet vibrant. Relaxed, her hands, palms down on a smooth rock upon which she sat.
“Sir, it’s so good to see you. You never miss a spring. We have your favorite room. Will you be needing anything?”
“No thanks William, it’s good to see you again.”
“Thank you sir. They’ve hung your photo by the spa as you requested do you want to see it?”
“Sure William.”
“That way sir“ He points. “Right through that doorway. You see where that lady in the yellow is standing? Right there.”