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Saturday, March 31, 2007
Saturday Photo Hunters, Theme: Water
She Was Three
Who was the ancient curious one to first seek respite from the Texas summer broil in the poultice of Barton
Springs? How tall was he or she and what had he / she eaten for breakfast that day?
From where had he /she traveled? Could never have conceived of blonde me at this laptop in this windowed room where
a flicked switch commands instant illumination. Where the talking colorbox cages people. Where outside
the swoon of cars passing in the rain is heading slowly and surely (barring the Second Coming,) towards the trash heaps of
plastic that will still be around long after our childrens' childrens' childrens' children are wondering what to have
for breakfast.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Pensive Jannie
What could possibly have been on Jannie's mind in this photo taken at Jae's today? Was
she be pondering the life cycle of the arctic hare? The patterns in quartersawn oak? The Caramilk Secret? Jannie, oh space drifter Jannie, wherefore were your thoughts today? Pensive Jannie caught
between a grown-up moment and a childhood longing for something wild and silken to free her from her
cage of farmgirl life. Where were Jannie's dreams today the instant the shutter froze her spunky finger
to her still-young-and-supple cheek? Jannie who was meant for castles and cobblestones, if only as a rug
beater or a peeler of potatoes. Jannie who does not need to be upon the throne, only near it on occasion,
perchance to hear the clink of her finger-
nails on it as she shines its brass footings. Jannie who needs only to taste a sliver
of the finest pie, not have the maid bring her a whole one on a silver tray each morning. Jannie, who tries hard not
to begrudge grand gardens as long as she can sleep with a hyacinth beside her pillow once in a while.
7:06 pm
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Thursday Thirteen, Edition 813 Things I Wanna Do
1. Winkle my nose to magically clean the house
2. Have real bass and piano on my 2nd CD
3. Find the perfect casual-chic jean jacket
4. Build a dream house in Mom and Dad's potato field
5. Discover Vienna
6. Discover Australia
7. Lose 6 lbs
8. Perm my bangs
9. Get a nose job
10. Learn to figure skate
11. Remind folks how beautiful life can be
12. Find favor with God
13. Have another bouncing baby (or not) (or maybe) (or not) (or maybe)
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Three Dog NightJust an old fashioned love song coming down in three part harmony. Just an old fashioned love song - one
I'm sure they wrote for you and me. Haven't thought of that song in years, but dang - it's a good one.
And I've never been to Spain but I kind of like the music!
Bicycle # 2Just an old Schwinn knock-off with two speeds - Faster and Slower depending on how hard your legs pumped,
but man did I travel the universe on that thing. With my rusted chain guard clanging I'd sail
up to Uncle Pete's for banana popsicles. Or down to The Chicken-Fly-In after school for coconut cream pie to satisfy Mom's
sweet tooth. Gosh, back then Mom was just a few years younger than I am now. How does that
happen? You spend most of your kid years longing to be old enough to do things, then before you know it, you're 42 and
wishing you were a kid again. Was 30 "the new 40" yet, back when that bicycle was my Mercedes?
Just when did that concept kick in? When Bill Clinton started playing sax at Janet Reno's dance parties? When
hip-huggers slunk back into style? When Botox went down to $27.95 per wrinkle? So... I'm almost 33.
Jim's just turned 55 and Kelly's -5. That'll work.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Yoga MatMine was Barbados blue festooned at the edges with yellow dingle balls left over from the poncho Gram scored
at the 1974 spring bazaar. Gram and her bazaars. If you'd ever spent a second near
her, you'd know her eyes flashed like diamonds under halogen bulbs. But near bazaar time, that flash turned to
a strobe as she traded her Naturalizers for Adidas and bounced from room to room serenading herself in unintelligibly
happy tones. Just a cooincidence that widower Melvin Turlish also came out of hiding at bazaar time?
Could Melvin have been the drawing card for the bounce in Gram's 83-year-old step? He brought his chutney,
rosemary soap, bottled soups and ran the fish pond. She brought pies, fudge, macrame doorstops and dazzeled
'em at the clothespin-drop booth. I wonder if he wished her in the kissing booth instead.
If they both hadn't been so shy would she have accepted his invitation to twirl right there in the church hall up
and down the aisles past the used books, mismatched mugs, rag rugs, baby booties and home-made taffy with the rest
of us cheering them on in wild-eyed ecstacy?
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Colors
Could orange fade to blue? Or purple to yellow? Jannie, don't be mixing your primaries with
your secondaries. Best not mention what green does to red. Thank you for these colors, God.
Thank you for this pink. For the green of the land, yes even the weeds that give off oxygen too. Thank you
for the blue in my "blew" eyes. (One blew east and one blew west.) Yay!! I'm writing. I think I may even
have just written something worth keeping. By the way, searching for missing lyric lines
a couple days ago, I scanned through most of my old posts. Some good writing in there. A lot of crap
too. But some good writing. Thanks for letting me discern the good from the crap. Fertilizer, folks.
All rotting leaves that will soon turn to soil the tender seed will poke its little head up through.
The End (for today.)
8:16 pm
Friday, March 23, 2007
LimestoneLimestone gets harder the longer it's exposed to air. Gets greyer too, just like us. Ageing
is beautiful. Really. Be great to be a grand-ma, as long as I still look pink and healthy. Limestone! Bermuda
is one big limestone maze jutting out of the Atlantic more than 500 miles off the coast of South Carolina. When
they quarry the slabs for their roofs it's like slicing divinity fudge. Real pretty
in Bermuda. Been there once. Booked the tickets about 10 months in advance back in my I-gotta-travel
phase, booked so far in advance the airline lost track of us. But we got on the next flight, First-Class
upgrade, not bad. That was back when Jim still drank. He got plastered on the flight over
on six rum and cokes! A happy drunk of course but asleep in our hotel room by 5:00 that afternoon.
And 5 years later along came our little butterfly.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
SunsetThe sun is always setting somewhere. Always rising too. Children resisting wakefulness. Others
resisting sleep. School calls. Why school? So parents can get a break. So kids can be bored out of
their gourds. Good little soldiers, pounded into holes. I mostly liked school
but I saw too many kids taught to make spitballs and fly down the hallways of their lives
wishing wings were real.
Short and sour today. Do you still love me?
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
RestaurantFunny, I asked Jim just the other night where he thought the first restaur-
ant had been. We both agreed on Rome. What do you think? Ancient Greece?
Egypt perhaps? I should Google it. Where did people first pay for a meal prepared somewhere other than their
own home? (And By "pay," I mean monetarily, not by botulism, acne or sudden
thunder thighs.) But really. Who had the first restaurant? In what year? And what did
they serve? Grits and porkchops on a stick? Coffee? Was there a menu etched on parchment?
What about exterior signage? Were women allowed to eat? Allowed to cook? Allowed to come within
500 paces of the establishment? Did the men come home drunk and amorous? And if so, who were the children conceived
on these nights of passion and did they go on to do great deeds? My guess is the first restaurant
customer was a traveling chariot or lead goblet salesmen. (The lead goblet ones tended not to father
as many kids going on to great deeds, tho.) Don't you just love history!?!
Monday, March 19, 2007
Going Places
12:35 pm
2 x 42 x 4s on the inside walls. 2 x 6s bulwarking the outer ones against time. Standard 8'
heights. Imagine the old houses being gutted today by swinging prys and happy hammers, the lath and plaster seeing the
light of day for the first time in 200 years in some cases. Wood chip insulation, straw maybe. Wow, 200-year-old
straw, wonder what that would taste like? Could you fool a horse into nibbling even a bit? How many horses born
and died all the New England years the straw breathed in winters and summers and winters again? Mice all nice
and cozy. Pumpkin pie smell that eventually seeped to the attic rafters. The brilliance
of autumn leaves only imagined. And on the studs in pencil... measurements and calculations,
maybe even the names of men now long dead. Men with dreams and work and sickness and women trouble.
Men who danced and sang. Men not a whole lot different than the ones today smashing
through dry old timbers and two centuries of dust.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Saturday Photo Hunters...Theme: Drink
8:33 pm
Friday, March 16, 2007
Niece And NephewCouldn't you just gobble them up,
they're both so super-extra cute!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Adrian's DeerAdrian's deer, although a bit more flashy, reminds me of the one we caught by surprise in Grandmother's back
field the summer it never stopped raining. Wobbly legs at the edge of the poplar grove that led to the brook cottage
where Aunt Hannah always brought her jello molds. Uncle Wilt still had both his legs then,
was as whole as I ever remember him. Just as cranky as in later years, tho. (Guess I get that honestly.)
Would they have been as cranky if they'd ever had kids? She was supposed to have been happy, I'd overheard the other
aunts say - after all, he'd built her a fine home by the shore. Cleanest house I've ever seen. Always faint
with Pinesol or bleach and molasses cookies or bread baking. Aunt Hannah with her wigs and skinny legs. Jiggly
arms. She could make a coleslaw tho, believe you me - I still really miss that at Thanksgiving. Hey, I wonder
if they've had kids in heaven?
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
HoeHoe, hoe, hoe and a bottle of rum. Actually I didn't yet drink rum when I had to hoe all those
potato, bean and corn rows - my first encounter with the demon alcohol came a couple years later at 16. How
could Mom and Dad have not known I was drunk that fine summer day? Because I'd peeled and cooked the potatoes, fried
the baloney, opened a can of peas and made and frosted brownies while they'd been in town? I recall that
was the day I whalloped my forehead bang onto the cellar's low doorframe just before my entire body had
a little chat with the concrete floor. Bounced right back tho. Youth. Me and Ruthie, eh? Had
us some times. Jumping out the bedroom window into the lilacs at midnight. Splitting six-packs of Alpine in Mom's old VW Beetle that you could run the radio in without needing the key. Riding the Zipper for an hour
straight, 'cause the carnie had taken a shine to us in our blue-and-white-striped tube tops. Are you reading
this, Ruthie? I'll be home in August for two weeks. Yay!! Might even drink a beer
or two.
 El Zipper
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Shawn ColvinI've always liked her of course, even if I did sell all her CDs on eBay last year along with most of my collections
to free up some cash. I even sold the Joni Mitchells! (But none of the Leonard Cohens.) So here's the thing,
I recently learned that Shawn Colvin's daughter attends the same school Kelly will be moving up to this coming fall.
She's three years or four years older than Kel so obviously they won't be in the same class but what if I bump into her, as
is probable? Shawn, that is? I'd want to tell her I like her music of course. Even sing her a snippet
of her "If I Were Brave" melody. But how do you approach a multiple Grammy-winning star? I can't just walk up
to her with my hand out and blurt "Hi! I'm Jannie. I've loved your stuff for a long time." (Or can
I?) A moment alone in the elevator would be opportune of course, but the school doesn't have an elevator.
It does have a pretty walkway tho.
BatteryI am trying to think of what to write on battery but my mind is about as dry as my checking account so I'm going
to launch into weird words like sticky-bunny. Tacked hems. Knobby sidewalks. Flow. Flow like
Willy Wonka's chocolate river. By the way, I always find that film depressing, both versions. No meat, 100% carbs.
Gotta have my protein. I keep thinking about The Pianist and how I always tell myself I'm going to watch it again sometime for a second time. But I haven't. Maybe that's
what I need, a wee hours battery re-charging of movies. Lately my mind's been so locked on duties and responsibilities, music mostly. But bills too because February was our slowest month in forever. Everything's past due,
yuck. But... Another new song has come up! I think it's going to be called Summer Summer or Summer's
Back. Was noodling on a bossa beat back and forth between A Major 7 and D Major 7 and it hit me. Lyrics
and melody. How sweet is that?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Five And A Half Today
6:00 pm
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Saturday Photo Hunters Theme: Architecture
Like Jimmy Buffet said, "if you've never been to Paris, man, you owe it to yourself to take the trip."
And he's absolutely right. Paris is this edifice x
100, 000 more. "Cafe to cabaret," grandeur just for the heck of it.
7:42 am
Friday, March 9, 2007
Wheat BreadIt was so easy for me and my Moleskine (no, not the bunion kind of Moleskin,) to sink into that reasonably comfy armchair as Kelly settled into a puzzle
while entertaining the kids around her with a much-too-loud-for-the-library
rendition of little ducks going quack-quack-quack over the hills and far way, interwoven with her usual original melodies
and lyrics. Meant to take you on a wild ride through wheat bread as you've never experienced it before until flashes
of crimson outside the window and across the field swiped my attention. Middle schoolers kicking soccer balls.
Running legs, back and forth on the dream of green. Even at that distance I could tell their long red
shorts were the shiny kind, shiny like apples for the teachers who have also been counting the days til Spring
Break. And if those teachers are anything like I was when I staggered the halls of academia,
they'll pass the whole nine days with good books, wine and song. Maybe even get a start on their tans.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Laundry HamperLaundry hamper? Really?
You betcha.
Oh shoot. (Actually - shit, but I'm not supposed to swear on my site.) Hamper? Really???!
Yes, dammit - hamper!!!
Okay, okay. Surrender to the plastic basket. (Hey, rhymey.) I have a white laundry hamper
and that's all you're going to get out of me because how freaking exciting can a laundry hamper be? And what's up with
"hamper?" What the hell kind of a word is that!?! Who wants their laundry in any way hampered?
Don't we all just want to get on with the whites and darks and stain removal glitch-free and 100% unhampered??
(The Tide'll be in and the dirt'll be out.) I once actually blurted to a blonde stranger in the laundry soap
aisle, "I'm going to try the new Mountain Fresh Tide!" to which she enthused with head-cocked approbation, "Well,
good for you!" (What would you have said to lunatic me?) I often wish I had the guts to ask perfect (or
slightly flawed,) strangers things like... "How old do you think I am?," "Do you think I'm pretty today?" or "Hey,
what do you think of real maple syrup??" So no hamper from Jannie today. Let's get on to better things...
like this wine. This popcorn. And how buff I'm getting - 46 Jazzercises so far for 2007. I'm well on
my way to the Tom Hanks who'd been cast away a while. Slightly less
bearded tho, thankfully.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Awesome Drummer!!!Thank you, Kevin Hall. Wait till you hear the songs now, guys. Oh. Mi. God.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Toilet PaperWhy am I suddenly shy to write on this topic? I've covered far more grisly territory and revealed much
worse to you, like I only do my dishes 3 times a week, vacuum my car twice a year and have fillings in every tooth (every
remaining tooth, that is.) But t.p. (Thanks, Willow!) Let's pretend I work in a toilet paper factory, euphemistically
a bathroom tissue plant. Bathroom tissue, now there's good one. I'm sure my job would be sweeping the floor
in the assay lab. I'd be cute in my white slippers and paper jumpsuit. Wear a hardhat. Wink at all the boys.
Eat my bag lunch with the gals while dreaming about being here at my computer or writing songs. Or Jazzercising.
Hey, you remember Star Trek toilet paper? It circled Uranus searching for Kling-ons? (Sorry, couldn't resist.) God - how could I have elevated this object writing to sunshine and roses and the wonderful smell of old church walls and rafters on Christmas Eve? Could've thrown
in visions of Confirmation girls' white dresses, parades of little Easter ducklings and swells of Bach's
sweetest violins, mixed with Andrea Bocelli soaring on "Domani." Yes, if I ever have to write
on Toilet Paper again I'll go the much prettier route.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
Snack Girl
10:59 pm
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Saturday Photo Hunters,Theme: Salty
"Peach" is our SALTY little dog, with heaps of
sugar and spice mixed in too.
10:26 am
Friday, March 2, 2007
Mouse PadI imagine a dingle ball curtain would separate the living from the bedroom in your average groovy mouse
pad. Or maybe one of those beaded dividers, yes I can hear the beads clicking now as a whiskered one
in smoking jacket sashays past the peace sign poster. Be fingers of jasmine and patchouli incense curling
around tiny tye-dyed pillows on macrame chairs. Jim Morrison wafting from a 45.
Record that is, not a Colt 45. Mice with pistols, there's a thought. Hand ovah the cheese, Bugsy or I'll
put a hole between your beady little eyes. Beady indeed. Beady little beatniks. Pink and furtive scampering
out of the baseboard hole in search of dinner or tearing around the house in their mini VW buses after all the humans
have drifted into R.E.M.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Metal DetectorSo I'm peeling carrots on the back porch as I do each Feb. 28th for the Beer Fest stew, when my eye catches
something wiggling in the white star jasmine. And lo if it isn't the Sherriff who pulled Jim over yesterday
for looking so good - yes the same Sheriff I trounced in last year's carrot peeling contest. (I'd peeled
96 to his 94 carrots in under 4 minutes.) So he eyes me. And I eye him. And he yells
"Hand it over, Essie." And I yell back, "My name's not Essie and you're NOT getting my peeler!"
One well-wielded carrot whaps him on the kneecap and he buckles. Another carrot to the temple and he's out cold.
So I toss him over the fence into the neighbors' pittosporum, go back to my peeling and chirp to my metal detector
leaning against the trellis, "Can you believe the grudge-holding nerve of him trying to get my peeler!?" to which the metal
detector declines a comment. (They can be like that,) so I whack it upside the head with my fiercest
glare and storm into the house to bleach out my cussing spittoon but I see the maid's already scoured it so I pour a
glass of wine and turn on the t.v. just in time for Oprah.
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