Long Hollow

A Week's Worth of Sweets

It rained today. 

For the first time in months, I heard thunder. I felt raindrops.

I was at work, busy with customers and orders and separate checks, but even though I couldn't really dance in the rain, in my mind I imagined I was. And it felt great!

Sweet!

 

Last Sunday I met friends at a Mexican food restaurant to celebrate my friend Gwen's birthday. I brought Gwen a present. Just a simple gift.

Gwen brought me 3 containers of metal and porcelain decorations, cupcake holders, and pretty plates for me to use at my parents' upcoming birthday celebrations. Gwen gave me (gave me, mind you) the sign above. She's weeding out things and thought of me when she saw it.

Sweet!

(I don't deserve my friends!)

Last night around 9pm my sons, my son's girlfriend and her cousin boarded a plane for Germany. I prayed. I calculated when they should land. This morning before work I opened Facebook and saw check-ins from Germany. 

Sweet!

Here are a few more sweet!s from the past week...

Sunday: Celebrating a friend's birthday with Mexican food and Mexican martinis; spending time with the Harvest moon; moonlight on a metal roof; looking at the full moon through binoculars with your son

Monday: kneeling and praying in an "empty" church, just you and God; conversations with blog friends, dreaming about wish-list cameras and lenses; your son cooking dinner; an email from a sweet friend you haven't heard from in awhile

Tuesday: the full moon hanging around after sunrise, peeking out of pink clouds; dove tracks reappearing on the road; responses to your shout-out about raffle tickets benefiting a wonderful cause

Wednesday: another request for raffle tickets waiting in my inbox; chatter of mountain jays; catching orange moon just above the horizon over the vineyard; cheesecake with blueberries and raspberry sauce; the smell of chocolate torte baking

Thursday: spending the day with your son before he flies off to Germany; finally getting your camera and lenses cleaned; seeing a black widow spider and a rattlesnake up close without anyone getting hurt (!); meeting Mr. Ed (more on that later); your husband making it home safely while pulling a 20+ foot trailer loaded with 94 sheets of roofing metal 

Friday: your husband finding a wheat penny nestled in your coin purse (because you wouldn't have noticed it!); your puppy dogs being good hosts to their guest; remembering your doctor appointment before you were too, too late; gray clouds in the sky most of the day, even if they don't hold any rain for you; finding out that even though a friend recently had malaria, he's all better now

Saturday: knowing the traveling kids landed safely in Germany; time for a walk with your husband and puppies before work; thunderstorms and rain after months of drought; hearing "good job" from a co-worker

What are some of your sweet! moments from the past week? I hope you had plenty!

(Not so sweet - getting behind on emails and my Facebook people and favorite blogs again! Don't give up on me or forget me!)

Linking up with focus52's theme "bokeh"

 

Puppy Dog Mornings (and a week of sweets)

I follow a certain ritual almost every morning, finding a spiritual, mental and physical balance that goes completely out of whack the rest of the day...

I begin at the kitchen table, enjoying a first cup of coffee and my healthy cereal (topped with blueberries and Greek yogurt) while reading something inspirational.

Right now it's Hope For Each Day by Billy Graham, a small book of daily readings I snagged at a garage sale.

As night's shadow lifts, I can make out Belle's silhouette through the French doors, full of hope, waiting patiently for our walk to begin. As soon as it's light enough to see the road, I give in.

On my way out the door, I grab my camera to get my daily photography fix, usually repeats of the same old shots... puppy dogs, dirt roads, fence posts, dusty flowers, clouds, bugs... mostly puppy dogs... just captured from a different angle, in a different season...

While walking and snapping photos, I pray the Rosary.

...Multitasking at its best.

Back home, I trade the camera for the dogs' food bowls and meet them on the back porch. While they eat their breakfast, I rock in my chair, sip on another cup of coffee, and gaze at the Hollow, savoring the quiet of the morning a bit more before the rush of the day begins.

Either before or after our walk, and before I can talk myself out of it, I squeeze in a physical work out, alternating cardio and free weights.... very important (I stress to myself when I protest) because the rest of the day I sit (sit, sit, sit, hour after hour...) in front of a computer. 

Is it any wonder that mornings are my favorite part of the day?

What are your mornings like?

Share! Share!

And now for my week of Sweet! moments...

Saturday: Manual labor ... muscles straining, sweating dripping from your nose - a wonderful change from sitting, sitting, sitting in front of a computer.

(Yes, I really do enjoy it! Every once in a while, anyway. Tom, Daniel and I spent a few hours clearing the brush out of the dry creek. They cut and sawed while I dragged and tossed. Belle and Haley supervised from spots in the shade. Max hid in the cool doghouse.)

Sunday: Celebrating a lifetime of hard work and sacrifice with barbecue and a slideshow depicting scenes from 80+ years.

(Our priest, Father Joe, is retiring this month. At 84, he deserves the break, but it's still bittersweet for me.);  

Sunday Sweet! #2: Rescuing a Blotched Water Snake. 

(Well, Tom rescued it by yelling at Max to drop it before he "played" with it to death. It had a small cut, so we kept it in a terrarium for a few days, then he released it down by the creekbed.)

Monday: A walk at dusk, first into a blue and pink pastel sunset, then back along an empty dirt road glowing from moonlight (blogged here.)

Tuesday: Your sister released to walk again three months after her hip surgery (#2) Sitting on the back deck near the splash of a full moon, listening to music with loved ones and sipping a glass of pinot noir.  

Wednesday: Glancing out the kitchen window just in time to see two great blue herons fly past. 

Thursday: Standing in a small clearing before the sun strikes full force... just you, a towering granddaddy oak and the melody of birdsong. And goofy dogs, of course.

Friday: A breeze so strong on the back deck that when you close your eyes, you can imagine you're sitting on a condo balcony above the beach in Port Aransas instead of above a dry creek in drought-cursed Central Texas.

What was your favorite Sweet! moment this week?

(This post is my contribution to the Focus52 linkup at TwoScoopz - the theme this week is "Morning.")

Books (and People?) of a Certain Age

Old books are precious treasure for me, no matter what the subject.  

Art within and without. 

A window where I can peer straight into history.  

 

My son recently took possession of these. 

He feels the same as I do about books. 

Even  old books. 

I can see it in his eyes.

And I can't describe how relieved, 

how happy, 

that makes me.

"Book-love, I say again, lasts throughout life, it never flags or fails, but, like Beauty itself, is a joy forever." The Anatomy of Bibliomana Vol.II - Holbrook Jackson

 

(But how could anyone not think these are treasure?

Take a look at these covers!)

"I cannot live without books." In a letter to John Adams - Thomas Jefferson

 Old books prove to me that with age come words like...

Unique

Individuality

Character

...which is a huge relief to me as I approach another birthday...

"The body of Benjamin Franklin
Printer,
Like the covering
Of an old book
Its contents torn out
And stript of its lettering
And gilding
Lies here, food for worms;
But the work
Shall not be lost,
It will (as he believed)
Appear once more,
In a new
And more beautiful edition,
Corrected and amended
By the author."
Epitaph for Benjamin Franklin 

 This is my contribution to the Focus 52 Creativity Project at Jan's twoscoopz. Check out the rest on the topic of "Aged" HERE.

 

 

 

 

A Reason to Celebrate!

The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.

~ Opray Winfrey

I turned 50 almost two years ago, along with all of the people I went to school with. We spent a fabulous year celebrating one birthday after another, each time celebrating all of us jumping into this next half century. 

My birthday party, courtesy of wonderful friends, was, I believe, the best birthday party I'd every had in my life. (I've already written about it so I'll spare you the details again, but click HERE if you're interested and missed it the first time. I'll warn you ... it involved cage dancing!)

The tinsel in the photo above is from that party - a friend decorated water bottles with it, and this piece has been wrapped around my little wine rack ever since, a reminder not only of my wonderful friends, but that life itself is a reason to celebrate each and every day.

If you woke up breathing, congratulations!  You have another chance.

 ~ Andrea Boydston

Earlier this month we celebrated the life of a dear friend in a different way - not the way we'd prefer, but the wake and funeral service for our friend Carl was a celebration, nonetheless. A celebration of his inspirational, infectious spirit ... a spirit that I suspect celebrated life every single day.

"Fly free and happy beyond birthdays and across forever, 

 and we'll meet now and then when we wish,

in the midst of the one celebration that never can end."

~ Richard Bach

At the service, another friend of his offered tokens to everyone, reminders of Carl. She had asked his kids to come up with words that described their dad, or tell her things he often said. She then burnished pieces of bamboo and somehow printed the words on the pieces.

Tom pulled one that said "Superman". He carries it in his pocket every day now. I think that's a form of celebration, don't you?

(I ended up with these four. There are words on both sides. Tom says I was greedy, but all jokes aside, I was there a long time, and each time I closed my eyes and pulled another token from the basket, I felt a connection to Carl. I'll eventually give two of the pieces to my two kids who couldn't be there.)

"The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is to celebrate."

~ Opray Winfrey

Friday night we helped celebrate with friends their 20th wedding anniversary. It was a surprise celebration, the idea of their oldest daughter, who was five at the wedding.

What a testament to their love and marriage that she saw reason to be sure they celebrated it in style! Like any marriage, theirs has had some ups and downs; we were happy to help them celebrate!

Above, a surprised Conni with her thoughtful, sneaky daughter...

Below, Conni and Larry, twenty years ago... (isn't this a sweet idea, hanging the wedding photos from a tree along with glass hearts?)

"Conni and Larry go together like peas and carrots" That was the theme of the party. Somehow our friend Mary Kay found candy peas and carrots and bagged them up as favors. So cute!

 

So what have you celebrated lately? (I hope it was this day!)

Remember, you need to...

"Enjoy yourself. It's later than you think."

~ Chinese proverb

This is my contribution to the latest Focus 52 project hosted by Jan at twoscoopz. Yesterday was her birthday, so she has been celebrating all week! Click HERE to see the other contributions!

 

 

Austin Marathon Moments - a personal perspective

My legs ache so bad!. This is one of the worst cases of shin splints I've had in ages!

No, I didn't run in the Austin Marathon. But I did run/walk 28 zig-zagging, uphill/downhill blocks in record time, camera bag ricocheting around my body, trying to reach the finish line in time to see my oldest baby son victoriously cross it after running the Half.

I didn't make it.

I'm not sure who that is in the photo above, but I know it's not my son. He doesn't usually wear sports bras. (But congratulations to whoever you are, anyway! Way to go!)

I staggered up, sweating more than the runners, about ten minutes after Tommy crossed. I'm glad he had his cell phone so I could find him...

A few minutes later, I spotted Kirby (the pretty redhead) just after she crossed.

 

That's right! ... I ran (okay, walked/ran) 28 blocks just to take pictures of my son and his girlfriend and tell them congratulations. I am Mom!

 

A bit of Marathon Mayhem, Austin-style...

 

The champs together, already discussing next year's half-marathon...

 

Look at these medals ... aren't they beautiful?

 

After walking back 28 blocks to our car (parked at Daniel's apartment), we met Tommy and Kirby at Trudy's for a celebratory dinner and Mexican Martini toast. They clean up pretty nice, don't you think?

 

I'm thinking I might join them in the half marathon next year. I mean, these people make it look pretty easy, don't they?

 

And you're entertained along the way...

 

But then, there are the hills (oh, my aching shin splints...)

 

Well, I have some time to think about it. But you know, if I'm going to be sore the day after, I'd rather be able to say it's from running it rather than running to it.

We took our time walking back, coming upon the full marathon runners as they made their way across the University of Texas campus. A few stood out. There was the blind runner, using his cane to check his path - how inspirational is that? And then there was this one, who just, well, stood out...

 

Now we know what Santa does in the off-season...

If we weren't planning to meet Tommy and Kirby for the celebration lunch, we would have rested for awhile near these guys and just listened to the music. They were really good!

 

I first spotted this sculpture of wild mustangs fifteen years ago, when I chauffered Tommy and other fifth graders to the college for a career project. I've passed it several times since and wished I could take a photo, but either didn't have my camera or the time. Sunday I had both.

See? No time limit on wishes...

 

We passed some other interesting houses, graffiti, wall art, along our trek back to Daniel's apartment. (The day was just full of adventure!) Check Confessions tomorrow for those (as well as a few others I took downtown.)

If you've run a marathon or half-marathon, tell me about it. Help me decide if I should give it a try or not.

(This is my contribution to week 7 of focus52 sponsored by Jan at twoscoopz. Click HERE to see the other contributions to the prompt "Close Up".)

 

 

 

 

 

Love is Life

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.

Tom and I celebrated early with a walk through the woods with the puppies, where odd things caught my eye, like this branch and its shadow against the aged cedar tree...

and this colorful cactus...

And then on the road headed home, Tom spent a few minutes trying to free a fossilized shell from its caliche prison.

(More on that adventure later, but isn't this a cute photo of my Valentine?)

 

We moved in slow-motion, mesmerized by the blue sky and sunshine and warmth, physically and mentally exhausted from the weekend.

We played ping-pong, drove into town, stopped for a quick meal at Panda Express and hit the grocery store.

Perhaps that doesn't seem like much of a celebration. It's nothing extraordinary; we often spend our days this way.

But isn't that what love is all about? Those thousands of moments that blend together into a single heart ... one giant heart that beats for each of you, pulsing to the rhythm of your lives, setting the tempo, ensuring your steps match each other's even when there are times you can't be together?

We've never gone overboard with huge Valentine's Day celebrations, but especially after this past weekend we understand how precious each moment we have together is, and that it's the simple, quiet, every day moments that say "I love you. I'm glad you're mine." louder than any box of candy or corny, dusty Garfield statue ever could...

(Garfield is pretty cute, though. Happy Valentine's Day tomorrow , anyway...)

This is my contribution to week 6 of Focus 52 - "‘Love, baby’! L-O-V-E!" Click HERE to see the other contributions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good morning, Snow! (My Friday Favorite Photos...)

I woke to a Winter Wonderland, Central Texas style (translation: an inch or so of snow) 

Not quite enough to cover the rocks, but hey, you northern people, don't laugh! It's like icing on a cake, and you know, icing makes everything taste better! Or in this case, look better... and also justifies freezing our tushies in those teens temps.

It was a surprise to see the world of white out my window when I finally awoke; when I went to bed - and it was pretty late by then - we'd gotten nothing but some sleet and frozen rain.

Tom and I stayed snuggled under the covers for awhile this morning (because the house was so dang cold!), entertained by coverage on the television of adventurous drivers slippin' and slidin' on the highways, until it hit me FIRST that the dogs were still in my laundry room past their potty time and SECOND the snow wouldn't last all day so I better get my rear-end out there and enjoy it while it lasted.

So I did.

I threw on some clothes, started the coffee brewing, and headed off on a walk with the puppies to work on my Snowy Day list. (Bless their hearts, they had managed to "hold it", if you know what I mean...)

As far as my walk went, two out of three isn't bad. (See yesterday's post, if you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about... )

1) Catching delicate flakes on my tongue: The snow had stopped, but the wind played housekeeper, dusting the snow flakes off of the roof and leaves. It was tricky, but I managed to catch several on my tongue.

2) Make snow angel: I took advantage of the dogs running off into the woods after something to lie down on our road and move my arms up and down. When I tried it with them nearby, well, forget it. This might not be the best snow angel around, but it's mine...

3) Build a snowman: I confess, I forgot about this one at first. It was after my camera battery had died and had to be recharged, and I went out for a second round of snow that I ventured to build a snowman. Right away I realized two things: first, there wasn't enough snow left, and second, my hands were really, really cold and it wasn't fun. So no snowman. Sorry.

Not really. I'm actually not sorry. My hands were really, really cold, dang it, and I could tell it wasn't going to be a pretty snowman - too much mud and dirt getting mixed up in the snow. But Tom grabbed one of the sections (pretty much a snowball) and stuck it in the freezer as a reminder of the Storm of '11.

So there.

Instead, I took a photo of my vintage '80 snow boots in the snow...

And here are a few more shots from my walks in the snow today. I'll post more tomorrow on Confessions...

Belle meets Snow...

More of Belle and Max...

"I don't want to work. I just want to bang on the drum all day." - Todd Rundgren

I spend a lot of time on things I enjoy ... walking through the Hollow, writing, photography, running, dancing, watching movies, reading, connecting with friends ... 

But there's one thing I do purely for fun. 

 

It benefits no one but myself. It's not something I can do with anyone else, like walking or dancing or watching Glee.  

It's not part of any goal or dream, like writing or photography. I don't harbor any fantasies of ever being any good - much less playing in a band one day! I'm starting to wonder if I can even improve at all!

 

Although it would seem to have some health benefits (it can be a pretty good workout and it's a great stress reliever!) they're canceled out by the racket that I'm sure is damaging my ears (and yes, mom, I wear ear plugs.) 

I don't learn anything from playing them.

No, wait. I do learn something.

 

I learn that even if I don't get any better, even if I can't multi-task while banging the drums, even if no one benefits from the time I spend on that little black stool, it's okay. 

It's okay to play just for the fun of it.

 

 

This is my contribution to Focus 52, a creative project sponsored by Jan at twoscoopz. This week the word is Play. Easy one for me! Banging the drums is pure play for me - I've tried, but can't think of any other motive with which to justify the time!

Click on the link HERE to check out the other contributions, but first (just for fun!) take a look at this great video sent to me by my friend George. I only hope to be this good one day. But if I never am, that's okay, too... (will someone send me some blue drumsticks?)

 

Reflecting on Cold, and remembering Indian Jim

 

Jim called himself an Indian, not a Native American. He was born and raised in Oklahoma, but for the life of me I can't remember what tribe's blood ran through his veins.

His skin was dark like oiled leather, his black hair untouched by gray despite the thirty year difference in our ages.

I was born and raised in Texas, near the Houston Ship Channel, where it rarely snows and temperatures never reach the single digits. I've experienced snow - in Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana - but the coldest night of my life was right there on the Ship Channel, ironically beside a unit called the Cold Box. 

The frigid temperature couldn't be blamed on the Cold Box, however; all the blame fell on the Arctic wind blowing straight down from Canada, across the Ship Channel, and full force on me and Jim, where we stood on the metal grating high above the ground waiting on the control room to make decisions and give us instructions on whatever task we were charged with that night.

Too many years have passed for me to remember those details of our job that night, but nothing will ever erase my memory of the cold, despite wearing long johns, sweat pants, a pullover sweater, an insulated jacket and Nomex jumpsuit covering it all, as well as a knit liner in my hard hat pulled down over my ears and liners in my leather gloves.

My fingers and ears felt like ice cubes and I couldn't feel my toes at all. I shivered so much I thought I'd never be able to stop.

But Jim was shivering just as much as I was. Indian Jim, son of Oklahoma blizzards, normally sweet-tempered with smile-crinkled eyes and a soft voice, was on the radio every few minutes, issuing a stream of cuss words and insults and impatience to the control room until they finally gave us the okay to come in and thaw ourselves out.

If you wonder if it gets cold in Texas, spend a few hours in the middle of the night on a catwalk beside the Ship Channel when the north wind blows and there's nothing blocking it between you and Canada. 

Or just think of Indian Jim.

I wrote this as my contribution for twoscoopz Focus 52 - the prompt was 'cold', and when I think 'cold' I think of this night waiting out there with Jim, and realizing if he was that cold, it must really be cold... I wasn't just a wimpy Texas girl. I'll always be grateful to Jim for that (you might have to be a female working in a mostly-male physical job like I did to understand.)

We stayed in touch after he left our plant, a few years before I quit. He worked at a plant up north, in Montana, I think (he sent us a beautiful photograph of the mountains) and when he retired, moved back to Oklahoma and married his high school sweetheart.

He visited us once or twice; I remember making him pancakes from scratch for breakfast, full of my new domesticity. He gave Tommy a $50 savings bond for being born and later, he and his teacher wife Martina sent the kids books for Christmas.

One Christmas, he wrote me that he was having to drive miles for kidney dialysis several days a week. Not longer after that, Martina wrote in her card that Jim had died. She and I stayed in touch until, one Christmas a few years later, her daughter sent a card telling me that Martina had died as well.

The funny thing about friendship... these memories haven't died. I hope they never will.

I was so lucky.

So lucky.

Rest in peace, Jim, and thank you.