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Sunday, April 29, 2007
DeathI haven't written directly about death much, so brace yourself for the news that there's
a very good chance we'll be dead by the end of our lives. Well, not really dead of course,
just passing over to God's yellow railroad where we'll get any kind of music we want instantly and no one will
ever steal our laptop bags or notice our abs are getting flabby. Some parallel, perpendicular or possibly even
oblique universe. But, hey - can there really be more than one universe? I mean, isn't that the whole idea
about the UNIverse, it's pretty-much One all-inclusive resort? Yep, I could die any minute. As
could you. But please don't. Hang around for a while longer. For another day at the beach and another bicycle zip
through a New England October. At the very least, stay for one sunrise and sunset more, one more splash
of 2001 Macon white in your crystal goblet. One more slice of cake as the moon handcuffs its magic to the
edge of the evening.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Saturday Photo Hunters, Theme: "Rare"
As each of God's creatures is rare and beautiful, (except of course for flies, mosquitoes, roaches and fireants,)
Kelly's new (still un-named,) kitten is no exception. Sweet little thang, even if I am allergic.
The one-cup measure is to show how petite she is.
8:26 am
Friday, April 27, 2007
Allergies
I thought maybe this would be the dander-free kitty, the miracle cat who'd never leave my eyes burning as
they are now. Luckily, I've escaped to a more diffused corner of the house. That's the upside to all this
adding-on and remodeling, we've distant continents here now. Currently I'm standing on a hill in Barcelona, the cat
is chasing wildebeest in South Africa, the dogs are draped all over the Brazilian rain forest while Jim's napping
at the North Pole and Kelly's just called out from Australia for a jewelry box to put a plastic treasure in for
her best friend she yelled "I love you!" to yesterday as we were pulling out of the school parking lot.
I guess you could call our new room over the garage Everest. Oh, shoot, I
hear Kitty sneaking towards Morrocco now, about to vault the Strait of Gibraltar onto my lap.
Think I'll zip over to the Canadian Rockies, formerly known as Kelly's Bedroom where the air's clear.
12:10 pm
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Growing UpThey say that growing up is hard to do, now I know, I know that's it true.
Don't take my childhood away from me. Don't you leave my life in misery.
If it goes, I'll be blue 'cause growing up is hard to do.
That is just plain stupid! Faaaaak!!
So, how are you today? I am obviously not yet ready to write anything good. What's wrong with
me? (Don't answer that, I still have a lot of growing up to do.) I'm going to cop-out and go online
now to research a music summer camp for Kelly, maybe one offered by Neil Sedaka. Have a nice day.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
FlotsamI'll have to wait 'til later to write. Much later. Maybe 3:00 a.m when I surface
from something disturbing yet inconsequential and blurrred like the flannel of pre-dawn but hot enough my hair
is cold with sweat. Then, in the quiet of this house, with no chance of dogs barking or of a child's or husband's request
for water or conversation or starlight, I'll be able to birth the revelation that jettisoned stuff is lighter
than the water it's displacing, yet heavier than the air that's never been and never will be seen
by me or anyone else seeking respite from a nightmare. There in my dream's wake when Liverpudlians
are pouring their second coffees and Australians are finishing tomorrow's dinner, will I be free to admit I've just
been chased by a man in a hooded black cloak who pulled a scythe from the trunk of his car. And lived to tell
the tale!
Monday, April 23, 2007
First Swim Of 2007
1:30 pm
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Saturday Photo Hunters Theme: "Steps"
These steps have been 3 years in the making. Actually, the garage addition slab was poured about
3 years ago but the steps came much later. And what will these steps lead to when the construction is
finally finished? Well... you'll just have to wait for a future photo to find out, won't you?
Stay tuned!
6:50 am
Thursday, April 19, 2007
MantelpieceIf someone buys this house will they keep the mantelpiece or replace it with a highly-polished styrofoam
beam? Will they really stop to admire and reflect on all the hours my husband spent cutting, gluing, sanding, staining
and nailing the pine? The sunburst most would assume is store-bought is actually designed and made by Jim,
each separate ray sanded round by his hands, hands like his father before who was also gifted with wood and protractors.
Will the new owners ever know the smell of fresh pine sawdust and the snap of Minwax "Golden Oak?" Will they ever wonder who were all the wood workers of yore, those who felled Europe's great hardwoods
to craft with handtools well into the night by candlelight? Or will they immerse their modern senses in plastic and
steel, unaware of the ghosts who dance in these beams and borders? I cannot sell this house!
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Camera... (Warning, Several Swear Words Within)I should be cleaning the kitchen instead of blogging, but what the f**k. S**t, swore again. Dang,
have to watch my mind more. Swear words are stains. My pal Trixie never cusses, not
so much as a single hell, s**t or damn in all the years I've known her. The Lord surely looks upon
her with much favor. Kelly let out a "Holy S**t," with her father's exact inflection at the ripe
age of three when she surveyed the vast expanse of her Halloween loot splayed on the livingroom floor. But how'd
I get on this? Camera is why we're all here folks. Camera. I'm holding mine
in this picture, my Kodak EasyShare CX7430 that's riddled with scratches on the outside but
after almost 4 years and 4000 pictures still works like a son-of-a-b**ch.
Trixie, The Non-Cusser With Me
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Okay, so he's not "mine" as such but he's woven his violin magic into 6 of my tunes so a part of his soul
will always be out sailing with mine. Thanks, Rich!!!
1:29 am
Monday, April 16, 2007
Earring #2Should I lose an earring on the way to my Vanity Fair photo shoot will I have to cock my head to one
side to hide my naked earlobe or will the camera guy mysteriously offer up an identical earring so I'll appear forever perfect
to my adoring public? Or will my glaring asymmetry incite my riotous fanbase to skewer me in
Stubb's Medium before they run me out of town to dwell with the fiddle players on the banks of the Blanco? I guess it wouldn't
be so bad among the fiddlers, they usually smell like Ivory soap and fresh towels.
And baked cheese biscuits on Mondays! I met them the October my bike chain snapped
and I flew into their picnic, the afternoon I'd just bought my first rubber chicken. The fiddle leader, Lumpkin "One-Eye"
Pumperstickle whose Stradivarious had been molded from sandpaper, velvet and fine copper wire, let me make one phonecall,
spritzed my hair with lemon and played me a snippet of the the Austrian Drunk-Driving melody, which is vaguely
remini-
scent of the first 4 bars of the Hornpipe in Handel's Water Music Suite Two.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Saturday Photo Hunters, Theme: Hobby
This is it, folks. My hobby - making music. And by creating my own luck, I am sure
someday I'll soar from hobbyist to famous song-writer, maybe even make some
money at it so I can keep perming my bangs every 8 to 10 weeks.
10:41 am
LampLittle did I know in 1987 I did not really have the world by the ass; said ass-grabbing only came to
pass a few days ago when I met my 2001 Honda.
Would it surprise you to learn that when U2's Joshua Tree came out, it and Handel's Greatest Hits were the only
two CDs I played in my car for 2 years? (Dylan's Blood On The Tracks and Simon's Hearts & Bones
were the 3rd and 4th albums I added to my car repertoire a couple years later, the spring I fell deeper into shit than I ever
fell before.) And believe me, I'd danced through some decently deep doo-doo in my day.
I bought the Handel again two days ago! Even better than my heart remembered. How could you describe him?
Fireworks darting off ocean swells into God's best cookbook, might be a good start.
Motion and light and the pull of all planets and moons everywhere. Kids sliding down bannisters that never end.
Chills. Fever. Nah, not even close. Breath itself, perhaps. Oh yes, did Handel use a candle
or a lamp?
Friday, April 13, 2007
Foamy SoapGive me foamy soap or give me chopped liver at its wurst or lead sneakers in springtime. Give me foamy
soap or pumpkins will shoot out the faucets at Versailles and pigs will dance the fandango in the Baloney Woods where
the spam-a-rama fest is still going strong. But seriously, like Purry-Fullah went for chocolate ice cream and pelting
rocks (lovingly,) at my head at the bus stop, Kelly goes for that foamy soap. And any excuse to keep germs off
her hands is an excuse to keep them off mine too! I will stand by that soap. Bring it on so I can wear it like
a medal and fling it into the arms of happy nuns in China. Let me cart it quietly across the backyard
while the opossum's sleeping. Let me die with a thousand cases of it in my garden shed. I will never surrender
it, no matter the cost to our charmed little island.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Thursday Thirteen: Edition 9Fourteen People I Owe Letters To
1. Christine in France
2. Doris in Germany
3. Jo in England
4. Diane in Australia
5. Lisa in Australia
6. Jean in Scotland
7. Margaret in Wales
8. Aunt Sue
9. Aunt Isobel
10. Cousin Brenda
11. Mitchell and Deanna
12. God-son Michael
13. Uncle Sylvester in Winnipeg
(Dear Ones, can this paltry blog offering suffice for a little while longer?)
Nephew Austin, 5 Months Young
One Of The Cutest People I've Ever Met Or Could Ever Possibly Dream Of Meeting
In This Or Any Fathomable Lifetime: Niece Alyssa Jan, nee 1999.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
My New (Good-Used) Car !!!
2001 Honda CRV...... Yay!!
2:54 pm
Square DanceI went to a square dance but got in trouble for dancing circles. Couldn't even get
away with a rectangle. DIDN'T DARE BREATHE A MENTION OF TRIANGLES, scalene or otherwise.
Then I came home to chicken that was underdone but made do with a moose muffin, tender with shallots.
Then I scraped the mud off my heels and lied down on the red satin coverlet until I awoke to sample
the earth's rotation. I am now blow-drying my hair while picking out these letters laboriously
with one hand. Do you agree that most of the really interesting letters are clumped together on the left-hand
side of the qwerty board? And why? I guess that was several moons before Wheel Of Fortune and
/ or the inventor was left-handed. That's wot I think today.
Monday, April 9, 2007
EasterI know I'm a day late with this but it's such amazing news - the best ever....
CHRIST IS RISEN !!!
Saturday, April 7, 2007
Saturday Photo Hunters, Theme: Clean
This was a few months ago after my annual Post New Year's de-cluttering frenzy. Desk's
messy again but January will be back before we know it.
11:25 am
Missing Song-Writing BagBlack nylon. About 14" wide x 18" long, 4" deep. Single over-the-shoulder strap. Outside
pocket. Bunny-chewed in one spot that's masked over with black elecrical tape. This is the bag
that's either been lost or stolen. Don't give a rabbit's ass about the actual bag but my song-bits and original
tunes by Kelly on the digital recorder would be nice to have home. Same for the lists of 1200 each of nouns, verbs and
adjectives. The Moleskine. Melody ideas, over 200 in my hand-writing that couldn't mean a thing to anyone but me.
Guess I'll keep inquiring at cafes and stores around town, even ones I've never been to. Or... if you
have it, would you mind turning it in to the Star-
bucks near Tomlinson's Pet Store in the Randall's center at Bee Caves and Walsh Tarlton where I last remember
having had it? Or leave it on our front step after midnight, the dogs won't bark.
Friday, April 6, 2007
MopacI wonder what percentage of people on our Mopac Expressway at this very moment know it stands for Missouri Pacific?
I didn't until April 11th, 1994 at 3:02 p.m. Mopac. POE-toe-mac, the Lousiana cousin, even tho the latter's a
river, not a freeway / train route. What I may be hinting at here is trains don't run so much anymore.
But they sure do in Europe. Loved them trains, even if I almost missed one connection by less than 5 seconds, whew! As
I recall, 6 months before I set sail in 1999 for my 8-country-4-week-self-guided-finally-meet-the-penpals European
tour, each and every of my 20 train rides was fully booked and reserved. Favorite one: first class Chunnel from
Paris to London. Gourmet meal. Champagne. Even managed to look semi-well-dressed in my subtle burgundy sweater,
black stretchy pants (where are those pants!?!?) and silk scarf. Amazing what a sik scarf can do. And
a dash of Silver City Pink lipstick, of course.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
AprilSkipping ropes and rubber boots. Snow melting into rivers on the gravel drive where I'd float stick boats
to China. Crocus gasping for air. Maybe even a tinge of sun on faces if the day was
feeling generous. And closer to May the bite and snap of burning grass chewed low by fires that drew eyes
like fire has always drawn eyes. April - come she will. Birthdays. Bubbles. Bicycles.
Bunnies. Memories dipped in yellows, pinks, lavenders and faded aquas. Pregnant-bellied
waters breaking over a landscape of suspense.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
I Go Back To The House For A Book
I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a book, something to read at the doctor's office, and
while I am inside, running a finger of inquisition along a shelf, another me that did not bother to go back to the house for
a book heads out on his own, rolls down the driveway, and swings left towards town, a ghost in his ghost car, another knot
in the string of time, a good three minutes ahead of me - a spacing that will now continue for the rest of my life.
(This reminds me of something my friend, Jae would write. She's that good.)
12:15 pm
BoatDon't rock the boat, don't rock the boat, Baby. Is that what Lyle Lovett sings as his beloved pony barfs
up oats onto the Chris*Craft's deck? If I had a pony I'd ride him on my boat - interesting
lyric. Lyle's so deep. Too deep for much of the fluff that settles on the top of the
pop charts these days. Lyle and his pony out on the ocean, riding through them movies, love that song even though I don't really understand it. Like Mrs Robinson. Or Subterranean Homesick Blues.
Why understand? Why not just... feel. I'm gonna write a song like that some day, full of whacky
images blurring past, hang Nashville's formulae. Lyle Lovett. You can have his woman.
Just don't touch his hat.
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