Long Hollow

A Day in the Mall, a Night in the Hangar...It Must be Christmas Time!

A blanket of thick fog settled on our bit of the world yesterday evening - it made driving the hilly, serpentine roads out here pretty tricky! When we woke up this morning, we still looked out at a white world, but by mid-morning, when I fed Max and Frankie, it had lifted, leaving the trees and grass sparkling with dew and the sky so blue it seemed it had been scrubbed clean.

I'm glad it waited until today to clear up - yesterday was filled with shopping...in and out of malls and stores. This sky would have been wasted! Except for a walk with the guys right after Mass, I still spent too much time indoors today but I was always near a window where I could at least see the sunshine if not spend my whole day in it.

Last night we celebrated the Christmas season with friends in their airplane hangar/home...lots of food, music and faces we don't see often enough anymore. Before we knew it, it was 2 am!! We're feeling it today, even as we prepare for another Christmas party. I have a feeling we'll be slipping out of this one early tonight!

Me with the hostess Rachel...

Host Carl (far right) with his son, his Irish mother and her twin sister...

Carl arranged for a bagpipe performance in honor of his mom and their Irish heritage...it was awesome!

This band was fantastic! The Eric Tessmer Band...mostly played blues...Eric's fingers would turn into a blur on his guitar...they're the main reason we lost track of time! You need to keep an eye out for these guys...

Carl showing off his latest acquisition, an OV-1 Mohawk, a plane that flew in Viet Nam -an amazing piece of history...

 

A Not-Quite-Treasure Hunt and My Favorite Color, Gruene...

I have a million things to do before company arrives this afternoon, but I have done a wonderful job ignoring them so far...I slept in, and then it was such a gorgeous morning that Tom and I had to take the critters for a walk (these days, with Charly, there's no way to rush that.) And now, here I am blogging...

Do I qualify for Procrastinator of the Year yet?

Tom took Max and Charly to the vet yesterday for their shots and check-ups...Max passed with flying colors, and except for being old, skinny and lumpy, Charly did, too.

There was one thing they didn't check on Max, though, because he goes berserk if you go near his rear-end. Yep...the stool sample. So it fell to us to take some in a ziplock for them to test. Easier said than done; in the six years we've had him, I've never seen Max go poop. I knew he must - I see the food go in, so I knew it had to go out! But he is the most private dog I've ever known...Charly just finds a grassless spot next to the road, but Max always slips quietly out to the woods and then reappears a few minutes later, grinning.  

So this morning, we kept our eyes on him. He tried his best to slip away unseen, but I noticed, and when he reappeared from the woods, Tom went searching in that area for the "treasure". It took a few minutes...both of us scanning the ground, sniffing the air (oh, the things you do for your "kids"!) but he found it! So he's off in the Suzuki right now to deliver the goods and then take Pop four-wheeling on some back roads.

Last night we headed to Gruene (pronounced "Green"), one of my favorite little towns, to meet Tom's nephew, Tom, and his fiance, Lynn, before the craziness of the wedding on Saturday. We ate at the Grist Mill. We've eaten there dozens of times, but this was the first time I've ever sat in the original building. It was very cozy and quaint, surrounded by tall walls of century-old brick. The town was spruced up for the holidays...music drifted out of the Gruene Hall...it was a crisp, cool, star-filled night...I wished we didn't have to leave!

Okay, company arrives in two hours...I've procrastinated long enough. It's time to get busy and start scratching things off of my list...

A Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

Glimpses of Gruene...

Spirits Bound by Timeless Love and Sweetness

This past weekend - a glorious Texas-style autumn weekend of golden sunshine, blue skies, vivid sunsets and star-filled nights - my house was filled with laughter and voices that have kept me company off and on for more than 30 years...some for more than 40...bringing back memories of those first slumber parties when we ate Doritos, danced, wrapped houses, and told scary stories. Who would have guessed we'd still be giggling together after all these years?

"Friendship is that virtue by which spirits are bound by timeless love and sweetness and out of many are made one." (St. Aelred of Rievaulx wrote that in the 12th century)

I wonder if St. Aelred was talking about friendships he'd had since childhood? I love the image of this quote...

"...timeless...": we're averaging 40 years of friendship
"...love and sweetness...": we're sweeter to each other for sure...no more teenage high drama...and we've become blatantly affectionate. Lots and lots of hugs and kisses and "love you"s whenever we're together.
"...out of many are made one...": we continue to draw closer and closer to one another, like one huge family or one entity, held together by shared memories (and adding to them all the time) and a name: Deer Park.

This time we gathered to celebrate my friend Ann's 51st birthday (click here to read my tribute to Ann written in honor of her 50th birthday last year.)

She arrived from Missouri Friday afternoon. We relaxed and talked a little, then zipped off with Tom to meet Darla, her daughter, Leslie and Clive at the Steiner Ranch Steakhouse, the perfect spot to watch the sunset, listen to music, dance and talk. We lucked out - there was a fabulous band performing that night: Suede. What a flashback to the '70's and '80's! The dancefloor was packed with fans, but we elbowed our way in and danced along with them, transported back to our Uncle Sam's Disco days. What a great surprise to recognize a familiar face on the dancefloor - Audrey, another (younger) Deer Park girl-turned-Austinite that I really only met this summer through another friend, Shari. The world gets smaller and smaller every day, doesn't it?  (me with Ann...me with Audrey)

 

Saturday morning Ann and I enjoyed playing catch-up on the back porch, listening to the rush of the little waterfall tumbling into the pond below us and watching Frankie the guinea dance with his reflection in the French doors. It had been years since we'd had alone time like this!

Soon the other girls rolled in from Deer Park, Temple and Round Rock...Darla, Donna, Rae, Patti and Lisa (an adopted Deer Park girl - she married into us.) Tom visited a little then hit the road in the Suzuki to enjoy some solitude, camping out near the lake. The girls and I ate, drank, hiked, laughed, took lots and lots pictures and then scrambled to get ready to head into Austin to see Jimmy LeFave at Threadgill's. (the girls by my little pond)

What Ann didn't know was that Annie K., another dear friend, had driven in from Colorado just to celebrate Ann's birthday and would be meeting us there. It's hard to believe, but none of us slipped up and gave it away and she was truly surprised. I'm sure that was the best birthday gift she received. (the two Anns together again)

A few more Deer Park-ians met us at Threadgill's - Vickie, Larry, Roy, Ann's sister Becky and her husband Steve. It was an outdoor concert and we hovered near the back so we could talk and dance while we listened to Jimmy. (our group...Jimmy LeFave) 

This was one of those weekends when I didn't want to waste a single minute. Ann and I stayed up until almost 3am talking in bed (or was it almost 4am? My eyes and memory aren't what they used to be.) The next morning we were up before anyone else, watching the morning sunlight ease its way down into the hollow. 

Ann was the first to leave - she had to catch a flight to Oregon - but the rest of us dragged the weekend out as long as we could, meeting other friends for lunch in Austin. It was hard to finally say goodbye, but it helped knowing there will be a "next time" before very long. The older we get, the more we realize what a precious gift we have in our friendship - some say it's an anomaly, this friendship with former high school classmates that continues to grow larger and larger like a rubber band ball. Many people don't understand how we can still be friends after all these years - or why we would even want to be - considering there have been huge gaps in our friendships.

I don't really understand it myself, but I think that just makes it even more wondrous to me. And to be honest, I'd rather spend time celebrating these friendships than analyzing them...when's the next get-together?

"It doesn't have to be somber to be sacred." (David J. Wolpe) 

 

My List

I just stumbled through the door, home after an afternoon of shopping with Kendall...after breakfast and lunch with precious friends...after a night of just 5 hours of sleep because I wanted to enjoy every minute I had with these 'girls' of my youth who gathered at my house for the weekend to celebrate Ann's birthday.

My eyes were getting very, very heavy and I was chewing gum, singing with the radio, and praying fervently that I'd make it home without falling asleep at the wheel. Flipping through the stations, I came across "My List" by Toby Keith. (It might be an old song, but it's new to me.) The lyrics really hit me - if you switch the genders, the message seems so appropriate for me, the "To-Do List Maker."

If it's new to you, too, I recommend it (click here for the video.) Now I'm going to ignore everything that I should do around here and, upon my friends' advice, go soak in the neglected jacuzzi tub for awhile before bed. I'll think about the wonderful weekend and give thanks for these lifelong friendships...

Under an old brass paperweight is my list of things to do today
Go to the bank and the hardware store, put a new lock on the cellar door
I cross 'em off as I get 'em done but when the sun is set
There's still more than a few things left I haven't got to yet

Go for a walk, say a little prayer
Take a deep breath of mountain air
Put on my glove and play some catch
It's time that I make time for that
Wade the shore and cast a line
Look up a long lost friend of mine
Sit on the porch and give my girl a kiss
Start livin', that's the next thing on my list

Wouldn't change the course of fate but cuttin' the grass just had to wait
'Cause I've got more important things like pushin' my kid on the backyard swing
I won't break my back for a million bucks I can't take to my grave
So why put off for tomorrow what I could get done today

Like go for a walk, say a little prayer
Take a deep breath of mountain air
Put on my glove and play some catch
It's time that I make time for that
Wade the shore and cast a line
Look up a long lost friend of mine
Sit on the porch and give my girl a kiss
Start livin', that's the next thing on my list

Raise a little hell, laugh 'til it hurts
Put an extra five in the plate at church
Call up my folks just to chat
It's time that I make time for that
Stay up late, then oversleep
Show her what she means to me
Catch up on all the things I've always missed
Just start livin', that's the next thing on my list

Under an old brass paperweight
Is my list of things to do today

"My Friends Meet Shake Russell and All I Get is a You-Tube Video"...or "Where's a Teleporter When You Need One?"

I'm not really whining.

Well, okay, I am a little. It just seems that sometimes everything happens at once, doesn't it?

Here's the story...

For months I've been looking forward to this past weekend...my friends Tully and Brad were coming to Austin and a bunch of us were going to meet downtown.

Then came the call from Bob, another friend: "Lisa and I are having a Shake Russell concert IN OUR HOUSE!" Of course, it was scheduled for Friday night of the same weekend. And Bob and Lisa live four hours away, near Houston.

I did some quick calculations. We had offered to host the Red River Shootout party (University of Texas vs. Oklahoma University football game) with our local friends on Saturday. Kick-off was scheduled for 11am, but, even so, I thought we could miss one night with Tully and Brad, run down to Houston to see Shake (and Bob and Lisa, of course!) on Friday, zip back here in time to host the football game party Saturday morning and still get to see Tully and Brad Saturday night. Yes! It could work!

Tom brought me back to reality and I'm glad he did. The weekend was packed as tight as it could get already - I was nuts to think we could fit one more thing in...especially a "thing" that involved eight hours of driving.

We ended up having a fabulous weekend - perfect autumn weather...hours and hours with wonderful friends...good food...pretty cocktails...UT beat OU...and I finally experienced a taste of downtown Austin nightlife and Tully's sipping tequila...

But...Shake Russell was crooning in Bob and Lisa's livingroom Friday night. And I missed it.

Tully, Brad & company Friday and Saturday nights...FUN!

(Mostly) UT dads during halftime of the Red River Shootout...

A You Tube video of Shake singing "You've Got a Lover" (one of my favorites) in Bob and Lisa's livingroom...it's almost like being there. Almost...

 

 

Procrastinator's Creed

I just hung up from talking to Tommy, my oldest that lives and works near Dallas. I rarely get to see him or talk to him. He's never been much of a phone-talker, but now, as a transportation broker, he has to spend hours on the phone at work. So I hesitate to call him - I know the last thing he wants to do when he gets home is talk on the phone...to his mother...but I had a question for him about an upcoming family wedding. He ended up talking quite a bit, telling me about work...his weekend...his upcoming plans.

I had other things I planned to do before heading to bed, but cleared them from my mind, reminding myself that a phone conversation with Tommy doesn't come around very often.

This little verse I first heard when he was a baby keeps running through my head. I think it still applies...

Cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow, for...<insert one of the following or make up your own>

 

...<babies grow up>
 ...<grown sons don't talk on the phone very often>
 ...<college kids don't like to come home>
 ...<parents grow older>
 ...<friends/family live out of town and we hardly get to see them>
 ...<we've gotten too busy and haven't seen our local friends in a long time>

 

...we've learned to our sorrow. So settle down cobwebs, dust go to sleep. I'm...

 

...<rocking my baby>
...<talking to my grown son>
...<spending time with my college kids>
...<visiting my parents>
...<getting together with out-of-town friends/family>
...<getting together with local friends>

 

and babies...grown sons...college kids...parents...friends...family don't keep.

 

 

 

Feeling Wild...

It is an absolutely gorgeous day in Texas, the end of an absolutely gorgeous weekend. Perfect temperatures, clear blue skies, flowers blooming, dragonflies buzzing....

I've spent a weekend surrounded by friends, experiencing new places, food and drink...cheering, laughing, hugging. And it hasn't stopped yet...

We snagged Daniel from his apartment late last night - he came home to do his laundry and just hang out at the house with us. I planned to spend this day trying to get caught up on my to-do list and enjoy the sunshine.

But something is calling me and I have to answer - the call of the wild..."Where the Wild Things Are" is playing nearby - one of my all-time favorite children's books. Who better to see it with than one of my own "Max"s (Daniel). We've thoroughly justified the shirking of responsibility in our own minds. I'm not sure if Tom will buy our excuses, but that usually doesn't stop us.

Off to the wild rumpus...

A Week of My Favorite Things...

...birthdays, seeing my kids (2 out of 3, anyway), beautiful sunsets, yellow and purple flowers, sunshine, ping-pong, Dirty Dancing and sore muscles...

Yes, sore muscles. I've been wanting to rev up my work-out, but couldn't afford a personal trainer. Thanks to Self.com, I started a new, more intense, work-out this week, and for the first time in two years, I'm SORE! I'm even thinking about climbing into our jacuzzi tub tonight - we've had it four years but I've never even been in it! I've never had the time. But I think I'm going to make the time tonight!

Birthdays...Of course, Daniel turned 21 on Tuesday. But October 13 is a very popular day for birthdays. I also sent out wishes to my beautiful Montana sister-in-law Kim and two young cousins, Ashley and Kayce, and my blogging friend Pete, a minister in South Africa (I recommend his blog, Rock in the Grass  - he writes very interesting, thought-provoking posts.) 

Today is my precious niece/goddaughter Nicole's 5th birthday. I'm a terrible aunt/godmother, though - her card isn't getting in the mail until tomorrow and I didn't even call. Obviously, I need to slow down. (Happy Birthday, Nicole!)

Tomorrow would have been my oldest brother Buster's 62nd birthday. I have started to write so much about that, but my words get jumbled up and I just delete them...It's just hard for me to imagine I'm now almost the same age my mother was when he died.

Wednesday morning I stepped out of my house into a summer morning in Houston...well, not really, but the humidity was thick and steamy and the mosquitoes attacked so fiercely that if I had closed my eyes, I could have imagined I was back in LaPorte.

This morning had all the appearances of a crisp Central Texas fall...the sky was crystal blue, no clouds...but it was still hot, humid, and the mosquitoes were worse than yesterday! They didn't ruin my walk, though - I let the sunshine wash over my skin while I admired the flowers blooming all along the road. There are mostly yellow patches, but I'm happy to report my purple flowers are popping up at the bend in the road...lots and lots of little colonies. I'm not surprised they held on through the drought.

Frankie even joined us again this morning. True, my walks are much more peaceful without him and his chattering, but I enjoy his company. I wonder why he's been reluctant to join us and what changed? Funny little bird.

This morning was my Saturday - it's going to be a busy weekend, so I took advantage of Tom being home and slept in until 8am! It felt so good!

The down side of sleeping that late was I didn't have time for my new work-out before leaving the house, so I had to fit it in tonight, which put me in a quandary - I'm such a creature of routine, and in the mornings I just watch the Today Show - no thinking required. Tonight I had to decide what to watch while I exercised. My choice? Dirty Dancing. I had been intending to watch it ever since the death of Patrick Swayze but, of course, never had time. I tell you what...it's a pretty good movie to watch when you're working out. I had that elliptical moving during the scene of Baby and Johnny after their first dance...sigh...

But...before that, Tom challenged me to a "game" of ping-pong. I use the word game lightly, because we don't keep score and our main incentive is to keep the ball in play so that we don't have to go chase it down and pick it up. We're getting old and have to take care of our backs! But it's so much fun playing out on the porch...Stoney LaRue singing to us through the speakers...playing off the house and cedar posts or whatever...dodging dogs and guineas that want attention until you step on them.

Yes, it's been a good week that will continue into a good weekend. I get to meet up with some wonderful friends...another mini-high school reunion on Friday and Saturday nights with Brad and Byron, plus some, and a gathering at our house Saturday to watch the University of Texas kick some Oklahoma University butt...good thing I rested up this morning!

Now, exuse me...I'm off to get acquainted with my jacuzzi tub and ease these aching old muscles...

More favorites...a beautiful sunset...me and my baby boy...

OMG!

All we really hoped for on this tenth anniversary of my "Lago Women, Etc." getaway to the coast was that everyone arrived safely. We knew, rain or shine, we'd have fun.

Well, the weekend far surpassed my expectations, to say the least!

Thanks to nine previous weekends like this, we have tons of unforgettable memories tucked away, but I have a feeling the ones we carried away from this weekend will be hard to top. What a way to commemorate ten years! Where to begin? Let's see...

Days 1 and 2 were fantastic: hanging out on the beach till sunset... catching the next morning's sunrise...watching a brief, beautiful storm decorate the horizon...jogging on the near-deserted beach, cooled by drizzly rain...and then spending the afternoon back out on the beach under clear skies and sunshine. After dinner in town that night, some headed back to the condo for a movie, but the rest of us headed to our traditional nightspot. Many weekends it's been as deserted as the beaches, and we have the DJ and dance floor to ourselves, but this weekend we didn't get to do a lot of dancing; it was a Barbecue Cook-off weekend featuring a concert by Stoney LaRue. I had never heard of him, but he was really good! As one of his fans, Robert, told us,"He's soulful! Just listen - you're gonna get goosebumps!" And he was right!

We thought that night was going to be the top memory...getting to see and listen to Stoney while experiencing the crazy diversity and drama of the crowd in Sharkey's (three not-quite-barfights, plus a sampling of every age, gender, sexual preference, race, occupation, economic level and personal style you can imagine.) 

We were wrong...

Mid-afternoon on Day 3: The guy in the suit standing by the elevator tipped us off that something out-of-the-ordinary was happening, and the mysterious, identical SUVs in front of the condos, surrounded by more men in suits confirmed it. We imagined all kinds of crazy theories before the front desk clerk told one of us they were expecting a "distinguished visitor."

I'm really not a celebrity hound. Really. At least I didn't think I was. Now I'm not so sure. Just the idea that a Secret Service-entourage-level person was nearby made me loop my camera around my neck like the paparazzi and stake out potential sighting areas. 

Forget about heading back to the beach. We hovered at the railing facing the parking lot, watching for clues or a glimpse of some VIP, trying to guess who it might be, until we realized whoever it was had managed to slip in without being seen.

Okay, I'll just fast forward through all of the tedious details of our stalking - the VIP was Laura Bush! Thanks to sharp eyes and fast elevators, we even managed to coincidentally "stroll" past her on the beach. And she said hi!

As I previously claimed (and subsequently proved myself wrong, I guess), I'm not normally a celebrity hound. I don't even think of her as a celebrity, but she is a woman I've always admired, and I have to admit it was really cool getting to see her up close. Witnessing the precautions that have to be taken just for her to spend some time on the beach with her friend made me treasure this weekend with my friends and the long beach walks we take for granted even more. 

Other highlights of the weekend...the full moon...my seagull friend...joking around with the Secret Service agents and convincing them to be in some of our pictures...Lauren's homemade bruschetta, Darla's chicken lasagna, Cheryl's salsa and sticky buns, Nancy's pizza, Mary Kay's salads and pumpkin bread (I love traveling with cooks!)...tye-dye shirts by Conni...earrings and 10-year patches for our shirts by Mary Kay...goodie bags from Conni and Lauren...painted wine glasses by Nancy and the hardback 10-year commemorative book she put together for us...and of course, just getting to spend uninterrupted time with these wonderful women, meeting Cheryl's friend Darla and introducing all of them to my friend Donna and niece Christin. I love how the different circles of my life come together this way.

Whew...what a weekend. I can't wait till next year!

We agreed to keep our photos of Laura and our Secret Service friends private, but here are a few from other highlights of the weekend...

 

A Recipe for Relaxation, Renewal and FUN!

Take a cup of Lago,
Add a dash of Deepwater,
Stir in 2 Tbsp. Family.
Pour mixture over a layer of beach sand, drizzle with sunscreen and margarita.
Bake 4 days under the Gulf sun.

Road trip!! I'm heading out for my yearly retreat to the coast. I'll be joined by some of my Lago women, my sister and niece, and a dear friend from high school.

I can't wait to hear the roar of the waves, feel the kiss of the sun on my skin, "drink the wild air" and spend unrushed time with some wonderful women.

No to-do lists, no computers, no schedules.

Today is also Mary Kay's birthday (one of the "girls") so we'll be celebrating her all weekend!

 Back in 4...

Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

On your mark, get set, GO!

It's a soft morning...muted sunshine, a sky swirling in faded blues, pinks and grays, a whispering breeze that's not too warm, not too cold. My walk was quiet - just light birdsong, puppies panting and our mingled footsteps padding along the wet sand of our road. (Frankie has opted out of our morning walks lately - he skitters up to the road with us, but then just parades around the parked cars, guarding the house until we return.) 

The softness and quiet are deceiving - this day is going to bust loose like a bronco out of the gate in just a few minutes. First, there's work. I'll be out for a few days and there is a lot that needs to be done. But I leave early to head downtown to Michael's house - a respite from the busy day - then on to "Mom" duties with Kendall and Daniel.

Home again this evening, I'll turn my focus to packing for a weekend that shines like a beacon the rest of the year - my annual girls' trip to the coast.

So...I have to take this minute to wish one of my dearest friends a happy birthday, because I know the day will get away from me and my mind will soon be running in a million different directions. Happy birthday, Patti! I'm so grateful for the circle our friendship has taken, for paths that led us back to one another. I'm grateful for our memories and look forward to making many more. I hope you have a wonderful day!

Summer Returns as Longhorns Trample Miners

"I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house." ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

My thoughts echoed Nathaniel's when I first woke up this morning and saw the brilliant autumn sunshine beckoning and felt the brisk breeze coming through my windows. It was a gorgeous, perfect autumn morning.

Unfortunately, summer wasn't ready to give up the stage - it returned for an encore a few hours later just as we took our seats in the Darrell K. Royal - Texas Memorial Stadium, so we baked and sweated in the stands for four hours as the Longhorns whooped the UT-El Paso Miners. (Final score 64-7... ouch!)

We were guests of our friends Mary Kay and Joe, avid Longhorn fans, no matter what the sport. Their son is on the Big Bertha team this year.

In return, we treated them to dinner at Waterloo Ice House after the game, and after picking Kendall up from her dorm (it's time for another shopping trip!)

It's funny...I said all week, "oh, I'll just take care of that this weekend..." about all of the tasks piling up around here. But now the weekend is halfway over, tomorrow seems to be spoken for between Mass and shopping, and I haven't done a damn thing on my list! Also, I'm still struggling with Chapter 3 on my book (although I think once this one is complete, the next few will flow quickly.) Next weekend is my girls' weekend on the coast, so I can't even tell myself "next weekend" with a straight face. I know I'd be lying.

It's really tough to get things done when you're never at home to do them. But I'm not complaining...I've been having a blast and the things that really need to get done somehow get done. The rest will just have to wait. Maybe weekend after next...

Am I the only one who feels like they never get anything accomplished?

Scenes from the day...

A Weekend of Faithful Hands

Oh, the comfort -- the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person -- having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.



A Life for a Life,  Dinah Craik
English writer, 19th century

 

I'll just admit it...the older I get, the more time my foot spends in my mouth: my words get twisted up, I can't keep facts straight when I'm talking (the ones I can remember), and sometimes my mouth keeps going even when my brain has decided to take a quick trip elsewhere.

But I'm very blessed - it also seems the older I get, the more faithful hands I find around me willing to guess the true meaning of what I'm trying to say, to overlook obvious mistakes and, if jumping to a conclusion is necessary, they aim for a positive one, believing in me enough to know I wouldn't intentionally say or do something that would cause pain.

This weekend I was surrounded by some of those hands - some new ones and some old ones. Not new and old as in age, but in how long they've known me...how much historical knowledge of me they have on which to base the "sifting of chaff and grain".

Robert and Shari are the new hands - it's only been in the last few months that we've all really become friends - and yet already I experience that "comfort of feeling safe" with them - the feeling that I can just be myself and trust them to sift if necessary, and that they trust us to do the same. Tom and I had such a great time hanging out with them, finally getting a tour of their world, talking, laughing, getting kisses from Tucker (one of their puppies), eating...and eating...and eating. The time just flew - before I knew it, it was time to leave. Literally! One minute we were relaxing on the front porch with hours ahead of us and the next, we were scrambling to gather our things and get on the road, late for my parents' anniversary lunch!

My parents, my family...they are the old hands, the ones who have known me forever, who probably at times wished they didn't, but love me anyway. We all met at the Monument Inn to celebrate the 60th anniversary of my parents' wedding. (Just imagine all the sifting of chaff and grain that they've done over the past 60 years?) Tom and I were thirty minutes late, but my family just sighed, ordered appetizers, and waited for us, greeting us with smiles when we finally arrived (okay, maybe some rolled eyes, too.)

I am blessed with a family that tolerates, forgives, forgets and laughs, and friends who do the same. Thank God for my sifters.

Looking Back on a Good Day

Wednesday started out just copying Tuesday...coffee, toast, fresh air and critter-care, work-out, shower and on to work (computer, computer, computer - trademark screenings, emails, blog posts.) No originality at all!  But sometime after lunch, I felt a change. Not in the routine, but in my attitude, where all real change takes place.

After work, I chased the clouds from my brain, determined to make the best of the few short hours of Wednesday that were left to me, rather than fall victim to the overwhelmed blahs of the day before.

I called my mom - that's always a good use of time. I stopped at our tiny grocery store for bananas and tomatoes, and donated a $1 to the Leukemia Society...or some other worthy cause. I'm not really sure which one - I was still talking to my mom and just nodded agreement to the teenage cashier's question (how could I resist, even if I wanted to? I remembered him as a kindergartner in my librarian days.)

Frankie met me in the driveway and escorted me to the house, where he performed his daily inspection of the front bathroom (he peeks in, tiptoes a little farther, stretches his neck and looks all around, then, once satisfied, he turns and heads back out the front door.) Tom had beat me home and already had chicken on the grill (that helped with the attitude) so, after I gave Frankie and the puppies their treats, I washed the green leaf lettuce and gathered the rest of the salad fixin's.

Tom and I make a good team, dancing around each other, seeing what needs to be done and just doing it. We've divided up some chores, now that there are no children at home to boss around, but mostly we just fill in where needed.

I had a mission for the evening - a list of goals - but before I could move beyond the first load of laundry, we decided to take a walk to check on the pond. (I wish I had thought to grab my camera on the way out the door.) The recent rain didn't fill the pond by any means - there's only about a foot of water in the lowest end, but that was enough to make Max happy. He waded in and promptly laid down. Charly followed Tom down the hill to the pond, but despite the Lab in him, he's not a water-lover. He tiptoed around, but he's not fond of a wet belly. Frankie and I stayed up on the road - I already have one pair of muddy tennis shoes, and didn't want another, and Frankie was singing up a storm about all of the bugs he was finding. Lots of big black beetles. He was back in Frankie-Lee mode.

Next, we crossed the earthen dam under the cypress tress to the other side of the pond - it used to be such a pretty view, standing there, looking out across the pond. But now there's a big wall of dirt splotchily draped in fake Easter-grass green, instead of a pretty marsh. I turned away. 

We followed the trail down to the little pond, where the water is actually up to Charly's belly and it's so clear we could see orange crawdads swimming around. It's a little grotto, and green fern usually drips around the edges, but the drought has left it's mark - the fern still hangs in places, but it's brown and lifeless. Yet, I'm optimistic it will return. It's a native - tough and resilient.

Back on the porch, my agenda briefly popped into my head, but skittered away at Tom's suggestion of ping-pong. It was almost too dark, but we don't keep score anyway. We played off the house, the porch ceiling, the ground, and once, almost off of Frankie - he was standing near me on the rock ledge, getting drinks of water from the natural recesses in the stone surface. He's quick, though, and skittered away just before the ball hit him, wings spread wide and squawking his protest. 

Finally, when we were playing by sound as much as sight, we laid down our paddles, came back inside, and I finally turned to the computer. But not to work on my book, unfortunately. Not yet. My mission today was more practical: I consolidated our college loans...the ones for our kids. Why didn't I do this sooner? We have been drowning and..okay, it's not necessarily a lifesaver, but it'll cut our payments in half and help us stay afloat until I can write my bestseller and make a million dollars (how's that for a financial plan?)

And now it's done. Work, walking, ping-pong, and a grabbing a lifesaver. All in all, it's been a pretty good day.

Hello Rain

It woke me in the night - the unfamiliar sound of rain. What a beautiful melody on a Saturday morning, especially in a time of drought. It lulled me back to sleep, but when I woke hours later I could still hear it - a steady, soothing, soaking rain shower, just the kind we needed.

It has rained all morning, washing the yellow tinge from the leaves. Our windows are frames for green, once again.

The rain makes me want to curl up in a comfortable chair and read. I want to spend the day lost in a story, pulling myself up and away only long enough to grab another cup of coffee and glance out the window at the rain drops dripping from the roof.

But it's Saturday, and instead I have to grab an umbrella and venture out onto the wet roads on my trail of errands. I hate going to the grocery store on rainy days, but today I promise I will not complain about my hair and groceries getting soaked. I hope the rain continues. And maybe when I get back home...just maybe...I'll get a few minutes to curl up in that chair and let the sound of rain and a good book carry me away...

Shopping with a Side of Basterds

Saturday was getting pretty tight, but with some determination and a little creative packing, Kendall and I managed to squeeze the Basterds in between Target and HEB. It meant some of my Saturday spilled over into Sunday - it was 1 a.m. before I got home from all the shopping and shuttling - but it was worth it getting to spend time with Kendall, grab a hug and kiss from Daniel, and get my movie and popcorn fix. 

Now, I'm not a passionate Tarantino fan, but I do recognize his talent and creativity, and I've seen most of his movies. I've enjoyed quite a few of them to a certain extent. But there are two things about his movies that always distract me from the brilliant screenplay and acting:  for me, he just goes too far with the violence and blood (I know, I know...it's meant to be over the top, blah, blah, blah...it's a long-running discussion with my kids) and his characters, while being very detailed and interesting...well, I just don't really like a lot of them. As in...I just don't care one way or another about them. They don't have any redeeming values. I like to "feel" during a movie - happy, sad, mad - and if you can't sympathize with something about the character, you're not going to feel very much.

But...I'd heard good things about "Inglourious Basterds," and wanted to see for myself. My verdict? I think it's Tarantino's best movie (of the ones I've seen, anyway.) It's a gutsy, creative story.  The screenplay is tight, and the acting is fantastic (all of the actors...not just Brad Pitt.) During the course of the 153 minutes (it sure didn't seem that long) I laughed, cheered, gasped with fear and surprise, and got mad. I didn't cry, but I did feel sad. Tarantino is an expert at using camera angles, lighting, music and flashbacks.

I expected the high level of violence (after all, the whole story is about killing Nazis! It's a war story!), but I still felt there was more gore than necessary (about the same level as "Saving Private Ryan".) 

The rest of us have imaginations, too, Quentin. Let us use them!

Celebrating Rae with the Grateful Geezers (or Oh, My Aching Feet!)

I believe the last big Fifty party has come and gone - and it was a Grand Finale, just like at the end of a fabulous 4th of July fireworks show.

Of course, I have to make it clear that Rae is not 50. Yet. She is hanging on tight to 49 for three more days. But that didn't stop us from celebrating, because we're celebrating her and our friendship, as much as a date on the calendar.

In typical Rae-fashion, this party felt like a gift from her to all of us. There was Mexican food, frozen margaritas, the Grateful Geezers, and a dance floor. There were people at this party that haven't even been to a class reunion - people from other classes that I haven't seen in over thirty years - interesting people I'd never met before - and even one of my elementary school teachers who was barely old enough to teach back then and doesn't look like she's aged a day in forty years.

I regret that I didn't spend more time visiting, but once the Grateful Geezers started playing, I couldn't leave the dance floor. They are fantastic! It was like they cast a spell on me - one great dance song after another - and I couldn't resist. Thank goodness they had the same effect on many of the others - I was never alone on the dance floor, that's for sure. I even somehow persuaded Tom to polka with me (there must have been magic in the air!)

Between the heat, humidity, and dancing, I was soaking wet with sweat; my hair was plastered to my head, and I had blisters on my feet, but I didn't care (well...I admit that in the group picture, I stood on the ledge in the back with the other members of the Thinning Hair Club...all guys of course.)

Knowing how much it means to Rae to give to others, for her birthday several of us surprised her by pitching in and donating $600 to a scholarship fund set up in her brother Milton's name at the local college. Milton was killed in a hunting accident several years ago, and the scholarship fund is just one of many ways they keep his memory alive. We also set aside a little for a gift card to a nursery - Rae is addicted to planting beautiful things in her yard. Not a bad vice, really.

After we planned our gift, a Pasadena policeman was killed in the line of duty. Again, in typical Rae-fashion she requested donations on behalf of his wife and small children in lieu of gifts to herself. By the end of the night she had over $1800 to present to them.

The night ended way too soon, despite what my feet were telling me. Tom and I were among the last to straggle out the door.

The next morning, after relaxing with Mama and Daddy, and enjoying lunch at Chili's with my siblings, we headed back to Austin...but not straight home.

First, we went downtown to pick up a few things at the grocery store for Kendall (and Daniel since we were going), making the mistake of going to Central Market, which we discovered just masquerades as a grocery store - it's really a serpentine, tunnel-like maze lined with expensive, imported things you can't find anywhere else, and that take the place of the simple (and cheap) things we needed for the kids. I wish I'd taken my camera in, though, for a shot of the woman in front of us with the pink hair and matching pink tail pinned to the rear of her jacket. Yep, we were back in Austin.

Entertained, but empty-handed, we headed to a nearby Randall's - still too expensive but at least they had lunchmeat - made our deliveries to my babies (collected my hugs and kisses), then still had to stop at my HEB for our groceries (pretty good variety, cheaper prices, and good music playing in the background) before we could finally roll down our dirt road to the house.

What a weekend...but totally worth the bags under my eyes and the blisters on my feet. Thank you, Rae! Now, when do the Fifty-One parties start?

Barbara (otherwise known as "Ms. Haygood" in our previous lives), with me and former classmates, Mike and David...

Presenting Rae with her representative "check" made out to the scholarship fund (Leslie did such a great job making the check!)

 

The Grateful Geezers singing to Rae...

Our group of Deer Park High School class of '77 - including Dave, our newly adopted "foreign exchange student" from New Zealand (really Rae and her husband's guide from their trip this year, but we just couldn't exclude him!)

Mama and Daddy at lunch on Sunday...

 

Taggin' Along and Catchin' Up

My friend Darla's daughter finished up two weeks of summer camp in East Texas today. Another friend, Patti, offered to let her spend last night at her lakehouse near the camp so she wouldn't have to make such a long drive first thing this morning. Darla invited me to go along just for fun.

Heck, yes! Road trip!

Never mind that I'm always complaining about not having enough time in the day to get everything done and that I'm quick to use "no time" as an excuse that the laundry is piling up or the refrigerator is empty or my book isn't written.  Life's just too short to pass up a chance for a change of scenery...hours yakking with dear friends...sipping margaritas as the sun sets on a beautiful lake...witnessing first hand the reunion between a mother and daughter who have been separated for two weeks...and, to be honest, catching a glimpse of what a real "Parent Trap" camp looks like.

So what if I'm sitting at the end of another "not much accomplished" weekend - I have no regrets at all. For one thing, at the end of last week I zoomed around getting things done just so I could go without too much guilt - I was whooped! I needed a break!

 Here's a quick update of the end of last week... 

Thursday...our anniversary. We had a wonderful dinner at Outback Steakhouse (free, thanks to a gift card someone special gave us.) And even though my car was supposed to be my our anniversary gift, he surprised me with a Windberg print of an old barn he discovered on Craig's List (I've been a fan for thirty years) and a beautiful, sweet card - a good thing, because of the video he sent me via email earlier in the week, entitled "The Perfect Marriage" (see it below.)

 My gift to him? I settled on only one card instead of buying three like I usually do and I'm not taking a class this semester. (I know...pretty lame...but he really is impossible to shop for! And these things really do make him happy!)

Friday...Kendall's last day at work. Our bosses took us both to lunch at a new place in town (new for all of us, anyway.) I'm going to miss having her nearby all day long.

After dinner we shopped - I think we scoured every clearance rack in Kohl's and finished up just before the lights went out - and laughed till we cried listening to comedy channels on my free-for-now XM Radio. It's hard to believe that this time next week she'll be settling into life as a college freshman, and Tom and I will really and truly be empty-nesters!

Below...a taste of lake life with dear friends...a sign from the camp (I want one for my house!)...the "funny" email Tom sent me...

 

Sidetracked

Tom stood in the doorway, bent over, hands on his knees.

"Did you almost faint or something?"

He shook his head, smiling. Or was it a grimace? "My back. Here...help me." He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed until (groaning the whole way) he was standing up straight. He hobbled back over to the bed and, groaning loudly again, stretched out flat. (Sigh of relief.)

Well, so much for our Friday night plans - a birthday party and music in the woods. And all it took was working a screwdriver in just the right "wrong" position a little too long to weaken some important muscle (or disc? Hope not!), and then just the right "wrong" movement a few hours later to throw it into a tizzy.

Poor Tom...this was going to be a weekend to get things done. He always has several projects going at once, plus all the surprise attacks that pop up...the most recent is a search for the least-expensive new carburetor he can find for the Suzuki Samurai so it can pass the emissions inspection. Despite his aching back, he set his alarm to wake him up early this morning, determined to "get things done" (I kept snoozing)...but a few hours sitting at the computer already did him in: he's back in bed. I keep asking what I can do to help - I've even offered to clean the jacuzzi tub for him to soak in for a while to soothe those muscles. He just says leave him alone and quit bothering him. Such a sweetheart. So I'm biting my tongue and leaving him alone to groan in peace and solitude (although I still think soaking in the tub would help.)

I'm having a great weekend so far, though! I've been tackling to-do lists...sticking to my work-outs...catching up with laundry and Facebook. What a surprise to sign on there last night and discover a video of myself as a baby, being held, bounced and kissed by my grandmother and mother (and a glimpse of my thirty-three-year-old dad in the background.) My cousin digitalized her parents' old family movies and is generously sharing clips of them...such priceless memories and images, frozen in time in a way that photographs just can't deliver. Thank you Aunt Mavis and Uncle Charles for recording them, and Charlene for preserving and sharing them! It's given me new incentive to dig out our old VHS tapes and finally transfer them to DVD - a summer project I planned to tackle two summers ago that somehow slipped off of my to-do list (well, more likely got pushed off by more urgent duties!)  

   Last night I also took advantage of having Daniel home to get my funny movie fix - we watched "Bowfinger" with Steve Martin and Eddie Murphy. It's full of talented people and lots of laughs and has probably the funniest movie ending I've ever seen. I've lost count of how many times I've seen it, but it still makes me cry with laughter. Of course, I love silly movies. Keep that in mind...

But now break-time is over...Kendall and I are headed into town to shop for dorm things. Summer is almost over, once again...

Ch...Ch...Ch...Changes (Yesterday In Pictures)

A new stage in life for Daniel as of yesterday...no more dorms. We loaded up the black truck and the van with most of his bedroom and delivered it to a quiet apartment complex several blocks from the university. I have to give him and his roommate Austin credit for doing their homework and settling for one that isn't fancy and isn't close, but is within peddling distance (and on a bus route for rainy days.) They even had the forethought to get one on the ground floor to save on electricity during these 100+ days. We were sure grateful for that point when we were unloading beds, couches and heavy boxes from Austin's stuffed U-Haul trailer. (The loaded-down black truck...Daniel and Austin carrying in couch after couch...Austin's a great scavenger!)

Now we only hope they focus on their OTHER homework...

That was the last tour of duty for the black truck. Tom and I used it as our "clunker" in the government's "Cash for Clunker" program. Now there's a pretty little "apple red pearl" Hyundai Elantra sitting in its place out front. I never thought I'd own a new car again. Life is full of surprises! (our wonderful salesman Sean - what a great kid!...my new little Elantra...can you tell it's been a long, long day?)

Mixing Blessings

    It rained today! Not just a sprinkling that left streaks in the dust on my van, but a real downpour that made Charly nervous and Max bark and Frankie want to come in the house. They had forgotten what this strange stuff was! It came down so hard that the tail-end of my van was washed clean!

    ...which caused a problem later when Tom and Daniel were trying to find it near the volunteer fire department, where I'd managed to wrestle it into a parking space after one of the important belts slipped off (after getting wet...from the rain) and the power steering went out (and the battery light came on and the temperature shot up to HIGH!) Kendall and I had made it close enough to work that Boss Kay was able to zip out to retrieve us before heading out to her meeting.

    Tom had planned to make the rounds at dealerships after work - we wanted to take advantage of the "Cash for Clunkers" government program...trade in our old black truck (the REAL guzzler - a diesel truck - has been sitting for over a year uninsured because we didn't want to drive it, so it didn't qualify!)...and get some little FULLY WARRANTIED high-gas-mileage car for me to drive. I'm hard on cars and he's tired of having to constantly fix them.

    Well, instead he had to leave work early, rescue me and Kendall from work and fix my van, and in the meantime, we hear that the program has been suspended. Dealerships were FLOODED with clunkers, drowning in paperwork, and frozen out of the government's "clunker" website. No one had any idea how much money had already been handed out or if the dealerships would get reimbursed. I feel like a little kid who was promised a trip to the toy store to get whatever she wanted, and now the trip has been cancelled, the promise snatched away. (Not that I would be getting just "anything" I wanted - there is a HUGE difference in my 'druthers' and my 'whatcha gets', I do believe!)

    So in a way, the belt coming off was a good thing...the van will finally get fixed and inspected (fingers-crossed), plus Tom didn't have to waste a lot of time looking at brand-new shiny cars and talking to dealers only to find the program was put on hold...well, I'm not sure he thinks that's a good trade, but I do! If he fixes the squealing belt once and for all, I'll be fine driving that old red van a while longer. It's paid for and has air-conditioning - what more could I ask for?

Whew! What a Weekend! I Need a Break!

    A new week starts tomorrow - a week that is going to keep me running from 5 am Monday morning until 4:30 Friday afternoon. Not only do I have the normal weekly challenges, but we're going to go computer shopping (Kendall) and car shopping (me!) And on top of that, I've got the weekend's overflow to contend with...things I should have gotten done this weekend, but didn't because I was too busy having fun.

    It was a weekend of reunions...Friday night Tom's old boss Al had an open house at his office. For Tom it was comparable to a high school reunion. Al was one of three owners of a small engineering company - Tom's first job in Austin. It was a tight-knit bunch. For reasons I won't go into here, the group has for the most part moved on to new jobs, but thanks to Al, every six months or so they come together. One of the old bunch is a member of a band - Relentless Jones - that has performed at the last two open houses. And they rock! We stayed WAY too late - another late Friday that got me off to a late start Saturday.

 

 

    But Saturday night we had another reunion - with my high school friends...a 50th birthday celebration for our friend Leslie (it was actually in June, but we couldn't pin her down to celebrate with her until now!) at the Steiner Ranch Steakhouse - a perfect place to be on a hot Texas night...first a fabulous dinner in a cold dining room, watching the sunset, and then listening to live music under the stars on a hill overlooking the Texas hill country, soothed by a constant breeze at just the right temperature. It was hard to leave, but I was determined to get enough sleep before my alarm went off for church this morning.

 

 

    This afternoon we had another reunion...with Tommy! He had swooped in from Dallas Friday night while we were gone and snatched his little sister up for a weekend of fun in Austin and San Antonio. He's such a great big brother! (He asked Daniel, too, but he couldn't take off work.) He brought her back home early this afternoon and stuck around long enough to watch a movie with me and Tom (the Ed Norton version of "The Hulk" - actually a good movie!) and walk down to see the latest devastation at the dam with Tom: the "erosion control" blanket of grass is sliding down the hill, along with a lot of the dirt. I guess I'll be contacting authorities again this week...just another item for my "to-do" list!

 

    But right now I still feel too "up" from the weekend to feel down about it. I'll deal with that later...

A Texas Night...Stories and Music Under the Stars

    Using my cell phone as a flashlight, Tom and I followed a dirt trail through oaks and junipers. A string of lights blinked at us through the boughs - a beacon in the darkness. I couldn't believe we forgot a flashlight. Or that I had worn my flip-flops. But we still worked our way up the steep rocky driveway to our friends' house and found the trail that led to the rustic stage they built in the woods on their property. Jim's a musician (Linton Mancilla) and each Friday night this summer they've had an informal jam session, open to other musicians or music-lovers. This past Friday night was the first chance we've had to go!

    But why didn't we hear any music?  Only voices filtered through the trees to us. I understood as we stepped into the clearing...our friend Larry Waddle sat on a stool in the front-center of the stage, talking about his book West to Trust - answering questions, explaining how he got this idea that just wouldn't let go of him, so he had to write it. Oh, yeah...I understood that feeling!

    He read from his book, a novel set in the South and Texas during the Civil War. He has the perfect voice for it...full of rich Southern Twang, well-polished from his day job as an auctioneer. It was fun sitting there under the stars and trees on a hot Texas night, Larry's words drifting around us about a family deciding to come to Texas for a fresh start. It had another affect on me, too...

    ...a night or two before this, I caught the tail end of a television interview with J.K. Rowling (creator of Harry Potter for anyone who's been living under a rock the past ten years.)  She was visiting the small apartment she lived in while writing the first book, sharing her memories of that time and her thoughts about writing. I could feel inspiration flowing straight from her into me, like a rush of adrenaline pumping up my imagination. I needed to get back to my fiction writing! But how, between work, the house-husband-kids-critters responsibilities, and another college class in the fall, and still have time to sleep?

    Listening to Larry just set my brain-wheels turning faster. I just had to figure out a way! And then it hit me...rather than take a real class this fall (I needed to save the money, anyway...), I'm going to form my own "writing class"...complete with syllabus, reading and writing assignments. And STRICT deadlines. I'm going to be really, really tough on myself - no excuses! I know it's the only way I'll get it done - and this way Tom can still nag me about my homework!

    As if in celebration of my decision, and confirmation that it was the right thing to do, Jim and Eric (the other half of Linton Mancilla), took over the stage for the rest of the evening, accompanied by members of the audience and other musicians. Both of them had been playing around with music on the side for years before coming together in middle age to fulfill dreams of one day recording and performing their own original compositions. Just more inspiration that it's never too late to keep chasing a dream!

        So wish me luck - and feel free to nag me! In fact, PLEASE nag me (but only every once in a while!)

Larry and his audience...

 

Jim and Greg...

Eric in action ...

Thinking back... a Decade of Port A

    For several nights I've been scanning and scanning pictures...dozens of pictures depicting a rite of friendship that is celebrating its 10th anniversary this year - my annual Lago Women's Trip to Port Aransas.

    My friend Nancy asked for the photos months ago - she wants to compile a scrapbook. I jotted it on my list..."photos to Nancy"...and had very good intentions...but the months flew by and suddenly, we're down to the wire once again.

    The problem with 'film' photos is...they're film! They have to be pulled from an album, scanned and saved, one by one. But I discovered an 'up' side to this - I was forced to slow down, really look at the photos for the first time in ages...think about the years that have come and gone in between...the things we've survived, the things that we just couldn't overcome or control.

    Ten years doesn't seem that long ago - until I take a closer look at our faces. I had just turned 40 the first year we went! I don't think I'd ever realized that before...never made the connection. No wonder I had the overwhelming urge to pack up my things and escape my life...my kids, my husband, my house and all that comes with it...not forever, of course...just for a few days. 

    I just wanted to step into a void - which I envisioned as the beach. I could see myself on a lounge chair facing the waves, reading a book (this is before I needed my readers!) and sipping on a tall, cold margarita. I could feel the sun warming me...the surf and the gulls singing to me. There would be no meals to cook, no dishes to wash. I'd just eat dry roasted peanuts. Maybe some salsa and chips. No one would be calling "Mom! I need..." or "Mom! Can you...?" I would just be me. I felt "I" and "me" needed to get re-acquainted.

    It wasn't TOO hard finding some women to go with me...but it wasn't as easy as I expected. But those of us that went were lightheaded...downright GIDDY..from the sense of freedom. Mary Kay, Jacque, and I were piled into Conni's van. That first year, and for a few years afterward, we made a loop below San Antonio on the way to pick up Nancy, who had moved away but even to this day is considered a Lago Vista Woman. We picked Rachel up at the tiny Port Aransas airport - her pilot husband Carl dropped her off - the plane was full of her kids, waving goodbye. I can't remember where they had been. Tamara, one of my Deer Park friends, and Marla, her sweet sister who recently passed away, met us at the condos. I'm glad I had that weekend with Marla. Kim and Susan also met us there with their husbands (in another condo, of course!)   

    That first year we decided it was so much fun...such a great idea...that we had another girls' weekend in November (a fabulous B&B in Fredericksburg)...and another in April (another fabulous B&B in Salado) and were planning a trip to New York City! Tom pulled me back down to reality. Once a year was plenty...I guess.  

    Over the years, some faces stayed the same, some replaced others. - with moms, there are always going to be scheduling conflicts...Girl Scout camp or training, football games, band competitions...you-name-it. We have a tendency to put others first. Especially our kids. Or even other people's kids.

    I've been selfish enough to go every year. With no regrets, whatsoever. I never had to resort to eating just dry roasted peanuts - what a surprise to discover some women actually LIKE to cook! And some really like to clean up! Live and learn...

    But it caught on...one year there were about fifty women from Lago Vista overrunning Port Aransas! We were everywhere! Naturally, back home...being such a small town...rumors spread like wildfire: "Oh..." (wink,wink) "...you were at Port Aransas!" (another wink, wink.) A few of us originals, who just craved a quiet escape (and no rumors), decided to go on a different weekend from the masses. We also wanted a chance at the Absolute Best room - the one that had a wall of windows facing the ocean. Enter...Hurt and Misunderstood Feelings, Episode #1

    That's the problem. As I perused each picture, remembered what was going on before, during, and after each particular moment captured in time, I thought of all the misunderstandings...hurt feelings...separations that have occurred over the years...despite the happy, laughing faces frozen in the photographs. And it makes me really, really sad.

    I see women who at one time were best friends...closer than sisters...laughing and hugging in pictures, but who now refuse to speak to each other. I see women that I myself once considered close friends, but that I haven't seen or talked to in months and months, even though we live in the same little town. 

    So many changes over such a short period of time. Our children have grown up. Marriages have weathered huge storms...or fallen apart. Our children have graduated, gotten jobs, had babies. We've gone back to school, gotten new jobs, moved away.  We've shared...withheld...judged...hurt feelings.

    Driving home from Port Aransas after that first trip...or the second...or even the third, I would never have guessed that in this year, our tenth, best friends would no longer be talking...or that the women I once saw once a week... confiding, laughing, crying, supporting...would turn judgmental and distant with each other. What happened to unconditional friendship, to writing "the bad things that are done to you in sand" and "the good things that happen to you on a piece of marble"? (Arabic Proverb)

    But no matter how sad all of that makes me, in my mind I see the dolphins dancing around the ferry, picture the sunrise from our balcony, and hear the surf and the empty dancefloor at Sharkey's calling me (because we go before the crowds hit.) 

     Port Aransas, here I come... 

Over the years...

 

 

 

    

    

Mending My Tapestry

"My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue...an everlasting vision of the everchanging view. A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold. A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold..."   

    Carole King's words touched something inside me the first time I heard them thirty-eight years ago, triggering a longing for richness, depth and color in my life...for chapters full of interesting characters, conflict, mystery, sadness, happiness and wonder depicted in my own "tapestry of rich and royal hue." 

    And boy, did I get it! (Especially when it came to the "interesting characters" part!) What I didn't realize is that, as the tapestry grows each year with new experiences and new friends, the old part can fall victim to neglect. Colors fade. Images disappear. Threads get thin, even break, leaving holes that grow larger and larger with time.

    Up until the last couple of years, I stood by helplessly watching. I felt sorry about it...even wept at times about it...but thought it was just the way it had to be.

    Not any more. Those older sections are too precious to me to just stand by and watch them unravel, and I'm determined to do what I can to preserve my WHOLE tapestry. That's why weekends like this past one are precious to me, spent with faces already woven into my tapestry...some in many places, at many ages...some from so long ago they were beginning to fade...and some that are freshly woven. A weekend like this one spruces up the colors, tightens the thread, mends the holes, helps make the tapestry closer to being whole again. It does indeed weave magic.

    Here's to my Deer Park Divas, new, old, and honorary. Thank you for enriching my beautiful tapestry.

A day by Rae's pool...helping surprise Debra for her 50th...brunch before saying goodbye...Carole King singing my song...

 

 

If I Lived Near the Beach...

...I would rise with the sun every morning and walk along the beach...I would spend every spare minute during the day searching for unique seashells, capturing images of the birds, the dunes, the grasses, the waves on my camera, feeling the sun kiss my shoulders, and cooling off in the surf...I would find a quiet spot to watch the sun set on the horizon..

    ...I would also have skin the texture of an old leather saddle. It took turning 50 to appreciate one dream NOT coming true.

    But spending a week or two a year near the shore is just what I need to wash the clutter from my brain. Yesterday we visited Opal Beach near Pensacola. A beach lover's dream come true! Huge expanses of white sand speckled with shells and decorated with delicate grasses and short sections of wind-washed picket fences. The water was emerald green...crystal clear (you could see your feet)...and refreshing like a glass of iced tea on a summer day.  We had the beach practically to ourselves except for a herd of lifeguards-in-training. Tom and I took a walk so far there wasn't another soul in sight - only the sea birds. Our footsteps were the only ones dotting the sand.
   Before I was ready, it was time to go - the soft sunshine switched to "High Heat" - skin was turning pink and stomachs were growling. We'll squeeze at least one more visit in before heading back home to the hill country.  But I'm thinking it's a good thing I don't live in a beach town.

Reading and Other Forgotten Pleasures

    Sunday, I sat down in my in-law's sunroom, put my feet up, and finished reading a magazine I started two months ago.  Four more are waiting their turn in my suitcase and I'm feeling really optimistic that I'll get through them this week, too.

    I'm also determined to read a book -or at least start one. The first one in months...maybe a year. I made a late night deal on the side of the highway Friday to snatch a copy of my friend Larry Waddle's new western, West to Trust. I bet two cars in a pull-off area after dark...with money trading hands and a square package passed over...looked suspicious. I'm sure no one would believe it was a "book" deal and not a "drug" deal, but I thought the long hours with no routine duties ahead of me would be the perfect time (and maybe only chance) to read his book. I'd meant to order my copy online and had just never gotten around to it, but thank goodness Larry and Conni had an extra copy in their car and were able to make the deal with me on their way back from town.

    Yesterday morning I stretched out on the nearby beach in Navarre, soaking up the sun (after applying tons of sunscreen, of course!), watching surfers and seagulls, and listening to the waves crashing on the beach. The sand here is like snow - not just because it's near-blinding white, but because it squeaks when you walk on it. The water is green-blue and the perfect temperature right now, and felt so refreshing I ignored the more-than-usual amount of seaweed all around me. 

    One thing I love about the beach is how it draws people together - small communities of towels, chairs, and ice chests, side by side, separated by just a few feet of sand. Just next door to us a mom about my age, her pretty blonde daughter and granddaughter played in the sand. There were retired couples and teenagers, tanned surfers and young families, all drawn to the same place for the same reason.

    I've spent hours and hours losing at 3-13, one of those card games that really depends on your last hand but takes a LONG time to get there, especially when there are six or seven playing with three decks of cards. But that's just more time for talking and catching up, in between the teasing and bickering back and forth, anyway. The Shallue's are a competitive bunch.

    Also this week I've gone "junking" with two of my sister-in-laws, swam in a real swimming pool, and watched a movie. I've gone over 24 hours without getting on the internet - a recent record for sure - and survived.  I've had to grocery shop, clean, and do some laundry, but you just can't get away from some things when you're a mother. Tom and I walked to a nearby track this morning to run - there are some parts of your routine you don't want to leave behind.

    This afternoon the youngest set of Shallue's arrive - youngest brother John from Arizona, with his wife and three kids, including my precious goddaughter Nicole. I haven't seen her since last year in Montana.  She's one pleasure I haven't forgotten. I just hope she remembers me!

   

Weird Al + the Doors + Craig's List = Funny

    Something fun for a Saturday morning - dedicated to all of those Craig-Listers, especially Darla and my sweet Tom, who might be headed out to gather up new treasure...

A Man and His...Bird?

    Tom and I are trying to slow down a little. We've been hitting the trails on our property the last couple of days, taking advantage of the sunshine and sub-100 degree temperatures while they both last. This evening, Charly, Max and Frankie all went with us, but yesterday the dogs wimped out and just Frankie tagged along. He came trotting up when we called and tagged along close behind Tom, making sure we didn't get out of his sight. It seems so strange, and yet so normal.

    We waded through Mexican hats and under an arching tunnel of lush green grapevine that cover the land bridge to get to the other side of the creek, then took a trail down to the little pond. It's my favorite place - a quiet green oasis, draped in ferns. No water runs down the upper creek, dropping as a miniature waterfall into the pond right now, although it does happen, and when it does, you couldn't imagine such a little waterfall could make so much noise - even on our back deck I've closed my eyes and could easily imagine I was sitting next to the gulf shore, listening to the surf. But it's still glorious when it's quiet. I envision myself...someday...sitting there on a little bench under the trees next to the pond, listening to the waterfall (this is a dream, after all!), typing away on a laptop.

 

 

 

Can you find the guinea in the pictures below?

 

Swimming Through Deepwater (Memories)

     "Deciding to remember, and what to remember, is how we decide who we are."  - Robert Pinsky    

     When Kendall's soccer game was canceled last Saturday morning, Tom and I grabbed that chance to take a walk through my old neighborhood where my parents still live. We headed for a path that meanders through the heart of Deepwater, a twenty-or-so-acre island of mowed green grass dotted with schools, ball fields, playgrounds and a few old pine, ash and oak trees.

    The neighborhood fans out from the island in waves representing decades long gone, recognizable in the styles of the houses. I grew up in the "50's" wave; my parents bought the house brand new when Donnie was a baby...not much later than '54, I guess. Businesses and churches are shoved to the outer perimeter, except for a quaint white-steepled Methodist. That's where Kathy was married...and that's the Englishbee house, where I took piano lessons...and Becky's house is just through that field...

    That's what happens when I'm in the old neighborhood:  memories overlay reality...my mind straddles the past and the present...surrounded by Deepwater, I start "swimming through memories." My friend Robert Duncan actually thought of that phrase - we've been writing back and forth, sharing our memories of growing up in Deepwater...sagas that weave in and out of each other, parallel, and sometimes overlap.  There are others I've become friends with just recently, drawn together merely because we grew up in the same neighborhood, even if we were never friends before.

  "Every thread of gold is valuable. So is every moment of time."  - John Mason     

     Tom's heard it all before - this litany of my memories. He just tunes it out now. This is the sidewalk I followed to school each morning...there's Mike Delaney's house on the left. My old elementary school is still recognizable through the layers of time, despite the wear and tear and changes - just like me. We used to have races at the end of that middle wing every morning before school in 2nd grade.     

    You won't find Deepwater on a map. Physically, it's part of Pasadena; spiritually (as in high school spirit), it believes in Deer Park, all the way. It's a neighborhood with an identity issue, not quite sure who it belongs to. A rebel with a chip on its shoulder. 

    But Deepwater is part of my identity - it still helps define who I am and connects me to others who feel the same way, whether they rode their bikes around these blocks in 1963, 1973 or 1983.

    An early childhood center now sits between the elementary school and the junior high where there used to be a playground...one of those dangerous playgrounds that got banned years ago - metal slides, large and small...tall swings...see-saws...jungle gyms. Beside the playground, backstops lined up neatly, busy with softball and baseball teams practicing each spring. The smell of clover filled the air, and you had to be on the lookout for bees if you went barefoot. That was Ms. Haygood's classroom, there, facing out of the last wing.

    The junior high hasn't changed much at all. Not from this angle anyway. And neither has the ball park. I spent so many nights there watching Donnie play...he was on the Orioles - they wore orange uniforms, so I always ate orange pixie sticks. I'd chase down homeruns and foul balls so I could return them to the concession stand and get a snowcone. I remember one night I got to keep score - I sat out there on the ledge and changed out the numbers. That was so cool... 

    My softball team, the Fawns, lost every single game except one - the one we tied.  I played pitcher and shortstop...      
    That's Rae's house on the corner. And Teason lived right down there. Patti lived down there. And that's the Van Rheen house...
    This house on the corner we called the haunted house, just because we thought every neighborhood should have one. Cindy lived here, and, oh, Philip Wise lived here. I had such a crush on him in third grade...

      "Recall it as often as you wish, a happy memory never wears out." - Libbie Fudim

Slippery Saturdays and the Round Rock Express

    I spent most of Saturday thinking I had a good grip on the day...up early, coffee with the dogs, a good work-out, several episodes of Rick Steves trekking all over Europe -it's public television fundraising time- including the corner of Spain and Southern France that Kendall visited in person last month, even some writing...all before mid-afternoon. But it was just a fraction of what I had intended to accomplish, and the next thing I knew, the clock had spun around to late afternoon and my motivation had slipped out the back door.

    But that was okay because my friend Leslie gave us a perfect excuse to shut down early - she invited us to meet her and Clive for a margarita and then go root for the Round Rock Express. Her call was timely...by weird coincidence I had just lamented to my friend Bo that I'd never been to the Dell Diamond. I HAVE been to a Minor League baseball game, but I traveled all the way up to Great Falls, Montana this past summer for that. (It wasn't actually the reason we went to Great Falls, but it was still a lot of fun!)

    Unfortunately, both times the team I was rooting for lost. But I still love watching minor league games - there's such a cozy, small-town feeling infusing the stadiums. I grew up watching the Houston Astros, usually sitting high above the players, insulated from the game and even nature, thanks to the high arch of the Astrodome's ceiling. Sitting under the open sky took me back in time to high school baseball games. And even though the Express lost, we won in regards to weather - enough cloud cover to keep us from baking, just a sprinkling of rain, and no mosquitoes.

    I'll be back.

 

 

 

 

 

A friend is one who strengthens you...

   ...with prayers, blesses you with love and encourages you with hope.

    My friend Leslie decorated twenty or thirty bottles with this quote and tucked them into clear cellophane goody bags for my party on Saturday - along with lots of candy, colorful, sparkly confetti, and packs of Cosmos seeds.

    I thought the pack of seeds was especially very fitting - I know it sounds really corny, but this group of friends are like Cosmos - each so unique and beautiful (yes, even the guys!) in their own individual way, and becoming a beautiful, colorful bouquet of flowers when together...blending together and complementing each other, but staying true to ourselves, appreciating the differences.

    I don't think I've ever had a better birthday party in my life! So many friends coming together, some traveling through storms to get to Austin (two from out-of-state...one I hadn't seen in about 15 years) to laugh, eat, drink, talk and help me celebrate my 50th birthday a little more. In reality we were celebrating OUR 50th birthday and friendships that go back almost to the beginning of those fifty years.     

    The morning's storm clouds gave way to a sunshine-and-blue-sky afternoon in my dear friend Darla's gorgeous backyard - not too hot, not too cold, no bugs (well, hardly any) - just perfection! There were the goody bags...the cake with my 17-year-old Homecoming Queen face smiling up at me (I keep expecting to see her in the mirror, but she's long gone from there!)...the wonderful gifts (I'm not a card-carrying member of the Red Hat Society yet, but I've got the boa and red hat!)...the Rudy's barbecue...the MILLIONS of photographs...later, a "happy birthday"serenade by my girlfriends accompanied by The Rhythm Dawgs , thanks to Larry's connections, (and subsequent groupie dancing on stage - a first for me!)...and last but not least, CAGE DANCING, another first! It took turning 50 (and my adventurous friend Rae who doesn't have a shy bone in her body getting up there first) for me to have the courage to climb up there. The kids in the club were probably horrified and possibly had nightmares about it later, but who cares? I'm FIFTY and I had fun!

Every picture tells a story...but I could only post a handful here...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

Never Give Up...Never Surrender

    There's that old saying..."an uncluttered desk is an uncluttered mind"...or something like that. It must be true because last night I stayed up late sorting through the pyramids of paper on my desk and serving bar (that's where the mail and all the extra stuff I pull out of my purse and work bag lands), sorting and tossing accordingly, and whaddaya know, at 4:15 AM (sipping my morning coffee after four hours of sleep), a lightbulb finally illuminated the maze I've been stumbling through for months as I've tried to figure out which direction my screenplay was headed. After dozens of false starts and confusing leads, it has finally clicked. Yeah, I know I've said it before, but I really believe it this time! It's like I'm standing above the maze looking down, finally seeing the path I have to take, thinking "I can't believe you couldn't figure your way out of this before!"  

    It's not a moment too soon, either. The sand in my screenwriting hourglass is getting dangerously low. I've come up with a new strategy to give me more quality time for writing - work more hours Monday through Thursday (at WORK, that is) so I have at least one big chunk of day home alone to focus on the screenplay. It's so hard to sit down at the computer each morning and start settling in with the story again, only to run out of time just when I'm getting comfy.  It takes a while for me to step in and wrap my head around the story and the characters, see where I've been and remember where I was headed. I never make much progress - many days I end up just erasing what was done the day before.

     Tom thinks I just try to do too much every day - specifically he thinks I should just quit blogging and checking Facebook or email. (Funny, he never says anything about laundry or grocery shopping or feeding the dogs or paying bills...To his credit, he helps me out with all of those and half of the cooking, too...)

    I figure it would only save me about...hmmm, an hour a day, sometimes two, if I ignored my social media addiction. Still not enough - especially since that hour is spread out into fifteen minutes increments throughout the day. Just filler time. And what he doesn't realize is that my mind is much like my desk - crap piles up and I have to sort through it, get organized, before I can focus on writing. 

    Of course, what it boils down to is I don't want to give them up. For years when the kids were small, I didn't have time for friends or writing the way I do now. My screenplay and my class are VERY important to me, but so are my friends, my extended family (I'm in better touch with them now, too), my 'journaling' and photography. If you've seen that email about the professor lecturing the students about priorities - "put the big rocks in the jar first (family, etc.) because if you fill it up with the small stuff, you won't have any room left" - imagine that some of my big rocks have gotten smaller, making room for these other big, pretty rocks I've rediscovered.

    Two other big rocks I'm hanging onto are my morning work-outs and my prayer walk with the dogs and Frankie - you gotta take care of yourself, physically, mentally, and spiritually. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.

    I have reluctantly let some things go from my routine to make way for more writing time. I gave up reading for fun ages ago, settling for boxes of books and dreams of warm afternoons, lying in the hammock on the front porch, lost in the pages of one someday. And my drums...well, I won't even claim to dust them off much anymore, much less play them.

    Recently, I resorted to watching the silly episode recaps of "Lost" on Facebook - they're annoying, but faster than watching the whole episode on the computer (I discovered the timer on our DVR doesn't work and no one is home to start it recording.) I've totally given up on "The Office" and "Desperate Housewives" (unless I time the laundry just right to fold during that time.) I'll just catch up on those this summer.

    So as difficult as it will be, and at the risk of annoying Tom, I'm determined to write this screenplay and STILL (sort of) keep up with this blog and my friends' lives on Facebook. I'm going to spend this coming weekend celebrating my birthday (again) with dozens of friends - some I haven't seen in twenty years or so. I'm going to keep working out and walking the dogs and putting in more hours at my job and avoiding late charges on our bills and emailing friends and commenting on Facebook. I probably won't post any new pictures - well, maybe new ones, but not old ones that I have to scan in first. I'm going to watch movies and read for my class. I'm going to spend time with Kendall, watch all of her soccer games, gather old photos for the senior power point presentation for her graduation (and probably cry over them.) And somehow I'm going to find time to sleep. I can do it!

"Never give up! Never surrender!" (from "Galaxy Quest" - great movie!)

Palms, Silly Songs, Soccer, Springsteen - A Sunday Mosaic

    First to Mass for Palms and blessings...next to the Hope House for silly songs and smiles...next soccer with sunshine and celebration (I'm optimistic - they're two for two)...and finally BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN for singing, dancing, memories, and celebrating TWO 50th birthdays with our friends George and Karen.

    This will be my third "date" with Brucie...the first was with our friends Bob and Lisa (whose son Justin called him Bruce "Feen-Feen" at the time - so cute!) and, while I LIKED Bruce, I wasn't a rabid fan. Until the concert, that is.

    I was pregnant with Daniel the second time. I mostly remember fanning the marijuana smoke away from me (from the people sitting in front of us) more than I remember Brucie and the band, paranoid about the smoke harming my baby. I don't recommend going to concerts while you're pregnant.

    It's been over twenty years since I saw Bruce in person - we're both a bit older now, but still going strong. It's going to be a Sunday to remember, that's for sure!

Leaving on a Jet Plane

     

 

    I kissed my baby goodbye outside of the Lufthansa terminal in Houston on Friday. A yucky cold rain fell on us all the way to the airport. I think it helped to subdue the girls' excitement, but couldn't wash it away completely. I could sense it bubbling in my van all the way there, despite the quiet. Just pulsing waves of unreleased nervousness and anticipation.

    I remember that feeling - a thick feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes it hard to breathe. That's how it was for me, anyway, when I was saying goodbye to my parents and my boyfriend at that same airport thirty-three years ago, just before I walked onto a narrow airplane pointed at England, the first stop on my whirlwind month-long tour of Europe.

    There are seven girls in all traveling with the high school Spanish teacher over Spring Break. Brave woman! I'm so grateful for teachers like this one who are willing to give kids a cultural experience. There is no education like travel.  My parents took out a loan to pay for my trip back in 1976. It's still one of the best experiences of my life. How can I repay them for that? The only way is to encourage and help my own kids to get a taste of travel themselves. 

    This is actually Kendall's second trip to Spain. Last year there were about ten kids, including two boys, and I had to say goodbye in the high school parking lot. Tom and I did the pick-up shuttle at the other end of the adventure.  What a rush it was for me when I spotted her emerging from the tunnel, looking tired, a little ragged around the edges, pulling her suitcase behind her. My little world traveler.

    As a parent, it's a scary feeling sending them off into the unknown - but also as a parent, it's so exciting to know your children are learning, growing, feeling wonder and awe, having adventures, being responsible, experiencing new cultures.

    So, despite the rain and that whole "unknown" bit, and the image of this tiny airplane holding my baby crossing the wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean that I couldn't keep out of my mind, I was happy and excited for her as I pulled away from the airport Friday morning. And every time that image popped up in my mind, I'd just imagine thousands of angels guiding it safely across, holding it steady and aloft. Answers to my prayers.

    Once at my parents' house, I pulled out Kendall's itinerary, figured out where she was, what she was doing. We Googled everything we could, taking our own virtual tour, huddled around Mama's computer screen.

    Saturday there was an email in my inbox: "hey we made it safely to spain and now in madrid =] i hate flying now though."  Thank goodness for Internet cafes!

    According to the itinerary, my baby is enjoying lunch on her last day in Madrid, a break in between touring the Royal Palace, shopping, and a few more museums. Tomorrow they'll be in another part of Spain. The time is going to fly by for her, I imagine. For me, it'll seem like forever until I see her again on Sunday.

It's been more than thirty years...I can't believe it! Here are Donna, Laura, and I in the Houston airport, preparing to board...me in Madrid, standing in the Plaza del Toros...Matt, me, and Pattye Wilson at the Trevi Fountain in Rome. I tossed my coin in, so I know I'll be back someday...

 

 

Just Me, Myself, and I

    I love my family. I need to get that out there right away. I love having them around, love the chattering, the bickering, the company.

    That being said...I have REALLY been looking forward to today all week...Kendall in Spain, and Tom and Daniel backpacking in Big Bend National Park...to coming home from Houston and having the house all to myself for several days, rather than just a stolen hour or two.  I've looked forward to playing my drums...working on my screenplay...scanning and uploading photos...reading...watching movies no one else wants to watch. Things that are difficult or even impossible when everyone is at home. I'm actually a social hermit - I enjoy people, need to be with people, but I also need time alone just as I need food and air.

    What a surprise when I lugged my bags through the front door into this cold, quiet, dark house and felt...lonely. Maybe it was just the weather, still cold and overcast, seeping inside of me, bringing me down. The house was all mine, just as I anticipated, yet I here I was wasting the rare opportunity by feeling melancholy!

    First I tried starting a fire, but I'm out of practice and too impatient...spoiled by Tom keeping one going all winter...and I couldn't get it to light. Then I realized I had been sitting on my butt for two days - driving to Houston, visiting with Mama and Daddy, driving back home. No wonder I felt so BLAH! It was almost dark, but I hurried outside, called the dogs and Frankie, and headed up the road. I felt better right away, maybe because the critters were so excited about the walk, but also just from MOVING!

    Back home, I put on a James Brown CD ("Get up offa that thang...") and turned back to the woodburning stove, refusing to give up so easily. It took awhile, but now there's a beautiful blazing fire, James has given way to John Mellencamp, the dogs and Frankie are fed,  and I'm trying to decide if I want to play my drums before watching a movie. I'm still missing everyone and worrying about them, but I've been able to tuck it inside and relish this time alone. The hours are already flying by...

Running out of gas...

    I've been complaining lately that I don't have enough hours in the day to do what I need to do AND what I want to do. Sunday, around 3PM, I realized that if I'm going to wish for more time, I've got to wish for the energy to use it.     

    We only have two kinds of weekends, it seems...either there is nothing at all going on, or every minute is double-parked. This was one of those packed weekends, starting with Friday...downtown for my haircut and dinner with Daniel (vegetarian tortilla soup and then one of the best pizzas I've ever eaten, the "Mega-Veggie"at the Mellow Mushroom...we sat in front by the window overlooking the sidewalk on Guadalupe, which on Friday afternoons is filled with some very colorful people...) Then...the grocery store, the ultimate energy sucker, especially on Friday nights. 

    Saturday was up with the sun. Kendall had an appointment with Vasara Photography (my idea, not hers, but she agreed to it for my sake), and morning light is best - the photographer shoots outside. Unfortunately, wind gusts of 30 mph are a problem with outdoor photography: they called and rescheduled for next month. Kendall went back to bed, but I had my own appointment with the computer to finish FAFSA. (Finally finished, but now I have Special Circumstances forms to fill out.)

    Saturday was also getting the call that my cousin Carolyn had died. Her daughter Sherlyn and I have been close since the beginning of our memories, and the rest of my day was colored with thoughts of her loss and pain.

    Tom's aunt and uncle arrived after lunch, their first stop on their way back to Wisconsin from the Texas coast where they take a month-long break from the snow each winter. Before they could catch their breath, we were headed to our friend's house by the lake - a last-minute get-together where I FINALLY got to see some of my Lago girls for the first time in months.

    Another friend from scouting days was having a 50th birthday celebration the same night, so we cut the first visit short, drove to the other side of town and hiked into the woods to a rustic wood-and-rock stage and amphitheater. We missed the main band, but arrived in time to listen to three pre-teens rocking out.

    We weren't there long before I could hear my bed calling, despite the beautiful night - stars sparkling in the clear sky above the treetops - and cozy firepit. 

    Sunday was waving goodbye to Larry and Cathy, rushing to church, and looking forward to my friend Clint's art show at House Wine that evening. I awoke fresh and energetic, so I was surprised when a wave of "blah" washed over me and I knew I would never last long enough for the art show.  (His work is supposed to stay on exhibit all this month, though, and I'm hoping I can get down there to see it soon.)

    When my friend Kim called to see if I wanted to meet her at the mall - the halfway point between our houses now - I had to rev myself up and go. It had been way, way too long since the last time I saw her. Sometimes you just have to be spontaneous...jump on chances when they appear.

    Back home, I tried to get some work done on the computer, but it was impossible to connect my thoughts through the fog that had gathered in my brain. I finally just gave up and told the weekend goodnight. Sleep seemed like a great way to spend those last few Sunday hours.

(birthday boy, John, with his wife Karen; warming up on a chilly Texas night; the bandstand)

 

 

The Day After

    You know how, when you start a new workout, or add something new to whatever you're already doing, and the next day you can feel it...you can feel those new muscles screaming in pain when you walk up the stairs, bend over, or even sit on the toilet...and even more when you try to stand up again?

    But you know it's a good pain...you know you've just torn down the old muscle so you can build it up again, stronger than it was before, right? You knew when you started it you'd be sore - in fact, you HOPED you'd be sore, so you knew you were doing something, achieving something, changing something.

    That's how it is for me today, the morning after my screenplay was the one under the class spotlight. Microscope. Red ink. Knife. 

    Last week I was nervous about my turn getting closer. This week, I could hardly wait.  Not because I thought I'd get a lot of complements or an ego boost. No, I knew better. I KNEW it would be ripped apart, and I looked forward to it.

    I haven't even written anything new in over a week. I've been waiting for this feedback, so I could see what I was doing wrong, what I was doing right, and where I should head with it from here. That's how much I trust my classmates...respect their input and honesty. I know they're going to help me get better.

    They didn't disappoint me. There were a few kudos thrown in, but mostly the critiques were blunt and to the point. It was tough to hear sometimes, but I knew it was for my own good. I've watched other classmates defend weak areas in their screenplays, so I bit my tongue when I felt myself preparing to do the same. I didn't want anyone to hold back!

    If they had been softer on me, I would have been worried - it would mean they didn't take me seriously as a writer, or that they didn't have ANY hope of it being improved upon. Instead, I got specific, sometimes brutal, advice. And it felt GOOD!

    Not everyone agreed - some of the conflicting advice I received I'll have to weigh out and decide for myself what works the best. But just having this chance to brainstorm on MY script with people who know what they're talking about (yet who obviously still sometimes struggle with writing a script themselves or they wouldn't be in this class)...it's just an amazing experience. 

     Now...I need to get back to work.

Miracles and Elusive Minutes

    I had big plans for yesterday morning - things to catch up on, maybe even get ahead. I certainly got up early enough, but before I knew it, it was time to leave for work, and nothing I had planned to do was done! 

    Does anyone else ever get the feeling that someone is playing tricks on them by moving the hands on the clocks up a couple of hours? 

    Granted, I took time to snap some pictures of the buds on the fruit tree outside the middle school, and of the critters on our walk, and some new yellow blooms on an ugly-as-sin bush near the curve, and a couple of yellow flowers hiding under the winter grass, but still...it was a beautiful day (and today is,too) and I think on days like this you have to slow down a little to focus on and appreciate the little details.

    Today, I'm especially appreciating the fact that my sister's angels surrounded her yesterday when a dumptruck broadsided her little car. Every day you read of people being killed in accidents like that, yet she was able to crawl out the passenger door, and tests today confirmed there's nothing broken, just a lot (a LOT) of sore muscles.

    And I'm appreciating the fact that I had another day with my old puppy Charly...we're down to the "taking it a day at a time" time with him. But today, he ate with gusto and ran ahead of Max into the woods on our walk this morning (granted, Max was walking, but STILL...Charly RAN!)

    Right now I'm catching my breath (and savoring another cup of coffee) before I get swept up in the weekend - I'll be off in a minute to the grocery store to stock up for a full house: both Tommy and Daniel will be here tonight. Tom and Tommy are heading out bright and early to buy Tommy a car. Tonight I'm looking forward to hanging out with them, probably watching a funny (silly) movie. Tomorrow, I'll be filling out FAFSA forms, keeping my fingers crossed that Kendall's and Daniel's financial aid packages include more scholarships and grants than loans.

    Here are yesterday's distractions...Spring is around the corner, for sure!

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you need to smile, try playing the drums or taking a five-hour lunch with friends...

Scenes from this weekend...

Friday night friends Bob, Lisa, their son Justin and his girlfriend Patty came over for smoked pork loin, chicken, and sausage, trips back through time via old wedding photos (ours - Bob and Lisa were both in the wedding), and turns playing my drums. I have a feeling Craig's List will be scoured for drum sets this week.

Saturday...Saturday? It just drifted by...playing catch-up on Lost, exercise, and screenplays. I watched the beginning of "Cold Mountain" and then read the screenplay. Managed to add a page or two to mine - I've already tweaked the beginning again...if I ever get past the beginning, I might actually write a whole screenplay!

Sunday...right after church I zoomed to La Margarita, met Darla, Donna BV and Donna CH to celebrate Donna CH's birthday - it's not really until Wednesday, but she's sneaking off this week to Las Vegas for a "quiet" celebration with her daughter and sister. We ended up staying there talking for FIVE HOURS! I still had to go shopping after that - I was totally wiped out by the time I got home, and even though I accomplished nothing else that day, it was worth it.

 

 
 

 

Is Longhollow in Narnia or Oz?

    According to our friend's GPS program, our house doesn't exist. No matter how he typed in our address..."Adrian Way", "Adrian Boulevard"...it said there was no such place. I knew we lived in a beautiful place...even magical at times...but I guarantee it's not Narnia or Oz. Our mail gets delivered, for goodness sakes. Granted, it's put in a mailbox a mile from our house, but it's to our address. I wonder why Bob's GPS (and also Netflix, by the way) thinks it doesn't exist?

    No big deal. I just gave Netflix my friend's address and picked our movies up there. And I told Bob he could call for directions on Friday before they head over here. Sometimes the old-fashioned ways still work. 

    Highlights of this week...

    One of my favorite shows is CBS Sunday Morning. If you've never watched it, you should. The stories are always well-done and interesting, but this past Sunday was really good. I'm always getting ready for church while it's on and get bits and pieces, but I had to pull up the kitchen stool and sit still for a few minute while watching a couple of them this week. One was about Abraham Lincoln- there's a new book out about the REAL Abraham Lincoln, his evolution from racist to the President we're all familiar with.

    The other story was about books, one of my favorite subjects.  Specifically, about bibliophiles...people like me who collect more books than they can read in a lifetime, just because. I've included it here...if you're a bibliophile, too, you'll enjoy it...

Watch CBS Videos Online

    Monday was a dream...a day of solitude, reserved for research and writing. Except for a little Facebook time in the morning (lots of good writing wishes from friends), a couple of emails, and one phone call, I was very disciplined and used my time wisely. I have finally twisted my mind around the story, understand my character and have a concrete idea of how to proceed with my screenplay. What a relief!

    Tuesday...Kendall needed a blouse for a Woman's Club luncheon tomorrow (scholarship opportunity), so we headed out shopping. I took a book to read while she shopped, determined to maintain my discipline and 'using time wisely' momentum, but, alas, Macy's had their knee-high boots on clearance...the very ones I've been wanting for several years but refused to pay full price for or make a special trip to the mall for when they were previously on sale.  I decided I could live with the guilt, and so, despite my proclamation of tightening the belt, they're sitting in my closet right now. I love them.

    Also Tuesday (last night)...Tommy called. A line of severe thunderstorms had passed over his house - the tornado siren went off, and thank God he did what he was supposed to do - hid in a closet under the stairs. This is my son who used to drive to a nearby hill during thunderstorms because he loves to watch lightning flashing all over the sky...also the one who, several years ago during a tornado warning, kept saying "I want to see a tornado! I want to see a tornado!" and so sure enough, while we're stuck in traffic with the storm passing over us, we see a tornado off to our left sucking up bits of houses from a neighborhood, then pass through a debris-littered intersection near a demolished grocery store, and once home, on the television see several square miles in a small town near us, Jarrell, that have been totally wiped out, scraped clean. So you can see why I was relieved he had the sense to get in the closet this time. They do grow up, don't they?

A Week of Surprises, Struggles, Celebration, Sorrow

    This has been one of those odd weeks that has zoomed by and yet simultaneously seemed to last forever. Weather-wise, it started with fog, which made way for ice, but ultimately the sunshine won out.

    Emotion-wise, it's been a week of highs and lows as well.

    At the end of the week, like a glowing beacon, a mini-high school reunion loomed. A bunch of us planned to meet at a club in Pasadena to listen to one of our 'old' classmates play his guitar and sing with his band (Mission Texas Live.)  E-mails and Facebook messages were flying back and forth all week.

    But...my screenwriting project hung over my head...I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around the best way to tell my great-great grandfather's story. How do you fit a man's life from age 17 to 80 into three neat acts across 120 pages (at the most) - a life that included crossing the Red River into Texas with a wagon train, a life full of conflict including settler vs. native Americans; cowboy vs. horse thieves; Confederate vs. Yankee; life and love vs. death; husband vs. wife; neighbor vs. neighbor; and freedom vs. prison? Where do I begin? Where do I end? What do I include and what do I leave out? I managed to send 20 pages to my teacher at about 2am Saturday morning, but they are pages I wrote last semester - a beginning I've changed my mind about. But it's something, anyway.

    I couldn't let that stop me from seeing my cousins Sherlyn and Muttsy (her name is actually Lugenia, but I've never known her by anything but Muttsy). They drove in from their small town near Abilene to watch Sherlyn's daughter Kenzie's basketball game. She plays for Hardin-Simmons University and they were playing Concordia, which is just around the corner...well, the lake...from us. Yes, I had pages to write, but they're my cousins and they came all this way! And I'm glad I did it...it was a close game and Hardin-Simmons won!

    And there was Tom's truck...it decided it was tired of its needs being ignored and demanded immediate attention Wednesday morning - he had to take off work and tear the steering column apart... and THEN, after several hours of aggravation, when it was in a million pieces, he read online (trying to find information on how to put it back together because the expensive mechanic's manual he bought for it was of NO value) that mechanics usually only charge $100 to fix this particular problem. Live and learn...

    On Friday I learned that my friend Tamara's older sister was in intensive care, from a stroke or aneurysm, and not expected to live. It turns out Marla passed away about the same time I was emailing my pages Saturday morning.  I was still excited about seeing all of my friends - in fact, Marla's death made a reunion with friends seem more important, more urgent. 

    One reason, I guess, is because I had been hoping for a reunion with Marla herself this year - it's the 10th anniversary of our first girls' weekend to Port Aransas...we planned to make sure everyone that had ever gone with us joined us again, and Marla and Tamara were part of that first group.

    But my first trip with Marla was back in high school. All of two, maybe three years older than us, she chaperoned me and Tamara on a trip to Garner State Park at the end of our junior year - our boyfriends had just graduated and their class was heading there to celebrate. (I'm not going to write anymore about this, except to say we had a LOT of fun, and made it back home, safe and sound.)

    The reunion this past Saturday night was a lot of fun, just as I expected. The sorrow I felt about Marla's death didn't diminish my joy at seeing my friends - the sorrow and joy merely entwined each other - existing together, perhaps even augmenting each other by contrast.

    Besides my high school friends, Tom and I reunited with another 'old' friend, David...the best man at our wedding. He had been in the Coast Guard with Tom and they were roommates when we met. For a brief time, we were ALL roommates. But once we moved to Lago Vista, we rarely saw him. In fact, I think it had been over ten years. Ann, one of my matrons of honor (the other was my sister, Brenda) surprised us by flying in from Missouri - so we got a picture of all of us together, 26 years, some gray hairs and a few wrinkles later.

    All of us laughed till we cried, talked, danced, sang, and took tons of pictures (well, my friend Rae did...I forgot to charge my camera...) Several of us shut the place down, and still unwilling to say goodnight, we reverted to high school habits and wrapped a house for old times' sake. Not just anyone's, of course, but one of the guys...one of our friends. He caught us, but was a great sport and let us finish and even take pictures. Now, THAT'S friendship.

    And if that's not enough for one week, an email waited for me when I got home from another person I haven't seen since we moved...Jennifer King Moody. I was in a writing workshop she taught - she helped me with my second essay. But I already knew of her from a wonderful essay she wrote that was published in the Houston Chronicle before I ever started writing..."Bury Me in the Country." It's still one of my favorites...probably the one that inspired me to try writing my own. She had been digging through some old files and came across my name, and on a whim, Googled me. I'm so glad she did!

    That was plenty for one week. I'm hoping this one levels out, slows down, gives me a chance to catch my breath. But judging from today, I don't think it's going to happen...I'll just try to hold on and enjoy, well, at least appreciate, the ride.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Truth According to Kafka

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SOME UNJUSTIFIABLE WHINING.   

    "Sidney, uh, how many pages do we need to have done by next week?"
    "Oh, just enough to get an idea of the main character, get to the first turning point, so, say twenty or thirty?"
    (gasps from several of us.)
    "Come on, people, this is a writing class - you should be writing. At least 15 to 20 pages a week! And don't forget - I need your samples before Wednesday so I can read them and make them available to the class beforehand."
    "How early?"
    "ASAP. Now would be good."
    "What's the LATEST?" (ever the procrastinator)
    "Say...Saturday. At the LATEST!"

    So by Saturday morning - actually Friday night since we're going to Houston Saturday morning - I need to have at LEAST the first 20 pages of my screenplay done. Let's see, if you subtract what I already have, that leaves...20 pages. I do have 20 or so pages written from last semester, but I've changed how I want to start it, so right now most of those do me no good. 
     So, okay, somehow, between work, meeting my cousin this evening in town to watch her daughter play basketball at Concordia University (a cousin I only get to see once or twice a year, if I'm lucky), and the usual eating, sleeping, laundry, kids, critters, husband stuff, I've got to come up with the 20 pages by tomorrow night. And after that, I need to churn out 3 or 4 pages a day until it's finished.

    If this was a novelization, I wouldn't have a problem (easy for me to say right now, since it's not a novelization.) But I'm still just getting the feel for screenplays - what to leave in, what to leave out, when to capitalize, indent, what all the acronyms stand for...

"A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people." ~ Thomas Mann

    It's only been in the past couple of years that I've been able to work out a balance that meets my spiritual, physical and mental needs almost every day. I'm going to have to throw it all out of kilter to get this done. But this is something I want to do - NEED to do - and so I'm just going to do it. Somehow. Some way. And hopefully without losing too much sleep.

    By sheer coincidence (or was it?), today I came across this revelation by Franz Kafka from a blog called Daily Routines: "As he recognized, the truth was that he wasted time."

    The truth can be cruel, can't it?

I Miss READING

    I miss reading just for fun, what I want, and for as long as I want. Right now there are twenty more pages of the third (partial) screenplay I need to read and critique before tomorrow night waiting for me on the kitchen table, and then I need to work on my own, but I needed a break. I remember when I could sit and read for hours, but years of needing to jump up and take care of a million other things, of only having time to read for 30 minutes at a time, makes it really hard to just sit there. Especially when it's not something I would normally choose to read.

    It's funny how college keeps readers from reading. Up until my first run of it, I read and read and read - I had no problem reading for hours and not doing another damn thing. Once I started college, I didn't have time...except for the required reading for history and English. And then I read every book that was assigned, plus some.

    My kids are all readers, thank goodness. That's about all Daniel got in trouble for in school - reading in class when he wasn't supposed to be. He probably read three or four books over the Christmas holidays, cramming them in because he knew he wouldn't have time once school started back up. And he was working eight hours a day, plus seeing friends, during that same time. Kendall keeps a book on the table to read while she eats, and Tommy got to where he wouldn't even start a book unless he knew he had two or three days to do nothing but read because he knew he wouldn't want to put the book down, even to sleep.

    Ironically, chemical plants are great places to work for readers (at least, they used to be...I don't know anymore.) I almost read as much for fun then as I did in high school.  The trade-off, of course, was I didn't have as much time at home with my kids. And when it came down to it, I picked time with my kids.

    I read a lot when my kids were little. Of course, most of the books were only about 10 pages long and there wasn't a lot of plot or in-depth characterization...sometimes not even any words...lots of pictures, though. 

    I didn't have much time to read for myself. I do remember one weekend when Tom and I snuck off to go tubing and camping in New Braunfels - I picked up a copy of the Joy Luck Club at Walmart and just lounged around, reading. That was a wonderful weekend...

    I guess it's all about choices. Now I choose trying to finish my degree and writing in my "spare" time over reading for pleasure - these days when I pick up a book it's got "writing" or "screenplay" in the title somewhere - and I don't even have much time for those, either. The rare book I pick up for pleasure sometimes takes me so long to read (imagine ten minute snatches of my day while I wait in a doctor's office) that it starts to feel like another chore I just want to finish. Or, if it's a really good book, I reach a point in it (usually just past the halfway mark) when I can't put it down, and everyone gets upset because nothing is getting done - no food in the house...no laundry done...you get the idea. The exception is the Bible - a chapter a day. I've read it all the way through a couple of times, fast and slow. I find the best way is in small bites that you can savor throughout the day.

    I like to pretend that one day I'll actually read all of the other books I've collected, but I know better. I'm sure there will come a day when I'll read just for pleasure again, but I'll never be able to lose myself for days at a time in another world like I used to - unless I'm creating it, that is. I've reached an age when I don't want to just stick my nose in one book after another - there are too many other things I still want to experience or accomplish. Like getting my degree, and writing the screenplay, the short stories, the book...

    But...I miss reading, just to read...

Variegated Sky, Variegated Day, Variegated Thoughts, and Dancing

    The day started with promise, then suddenly it was 5:45 in the evening...the day was almost gone and I hadn't accomplished half of what I had hoped. And I'd barely even been out of the house! Kendall and Tom were both gone, but I needed a break from work...from the computer. I needed some exercise...to breathe some fresh air, and soak up some of what little sunlight remained.

    I guess the dogs and Frankie had already gone for a walk, maybe with Tom earlier when I was busy writing.  At any rate, for whatever reason, they were very unenthusiastic about a walk. Max went most of the way to the curve with me, but Charly and Frankie wimped out early on. The sky above was full of clouds, a variegated gray, reminding me of the spools of thread Mam-ma used to crochet with (and pull my loose primary teeth with)...spools and spools of variegated colors. My thoughts were just as variegated...drifting to the past and my childhood, to memories of her, to our decision to move here, to the speed of the days we've traveled since then, including this one...

    Back at the house, Bruce Springsteen was singing "I'm Going Down" to me through the livingroom speakers. I realized I was home alone, with an inviting wide empty wooden floor, so I just danced. All by myself. It was great.

    Now, back to work...

There are shortcuts to happiness and dancing is one of them.
Vicki Baum

There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a bit of good.
Edwin Denby

Transitions

    This is the year that the majority of my high school classmates and I cross over into our second half century of life. Some have slipped there quietly, others have faced it head-on with weekends in places like Vegas or the Caribbean or on a cruise ship. One guy, Roy, is in Colorado as we speak, and...well...he says it best himself on Facebook..."[I] just finished a sleigh ride and a cowboy dinner after enjoying a walk down a snowy mountain in snow shoes...because tomorrow I start my second 50 years." Sounds like a well-planned birthday celebration.

    Tom turned 50 almost two years ago. What he wanted was to have his mom and dad and all 8 of his brothers come here to help him celebrate, and so that's what we did. It was great! But a party like that is a once in a lifetime thing - I don't want anything like that for my birthday. I don't want to have to work that hard for myself!

    I "cross over" in just three months, and I can't decide how I want to mark it! For my 30th, Tom arranged for me to have a day off from work - boy, that was a surprise! Then he took me to a spa (massage, manicure, etc.), shopping for a new dress, and then dinner at the Magic Island restaurant in Houston. On top of that, we had a party, because I wasn't sure if he was going to do anything, and I wanted to make sure I celebrated! (I believe in that old saying, "Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers, why not gather your own bouquet?")

    We didn't do anything big or spectacular for my 40th because Tom was scoutmaster then. Scouts took up most of his (our) free time. We had a big Boy Scout cook-out on the only free weekend around my birthday, but that was okay. That's what you do for your kids!

    But I've had some wonderful birthdays on non-milestone years. My first one after we moved to Lago Vista we drove with the kids out to Enchanted Rock (one of my to-do wishes) and then to Fredericksburg. The wildflowers (bluebonnets, especially) were phenomenal that year. Another year just Tom and I drove out that way for the day.

    I spent a weekend at a bed-and-breakfast in Salado (little historical town near here) one year with a bunch of my girlfriends. Another time Tom bought me a Bruce Springsteen concert DVD. He had stayed home from work hoping to take another wildflower drive, but since it was a rainy day, we just stayed home and watched it on the big screen. It was just like being on the front row, live! I could almost feel Brucie's sweat drops landing on me!

    Just last year Tom made another one of my wishes come true. We took a ride on the Hill Country Flyer- an old vintage train that runs through the hill country from Cedar Park to other small towns (this time Burnet) and back, with a break to have lunch and explore some of the shops in Burnet. We had our own private compartment and it was a beautiful day.

    This year the funds are low, now that the Recession has landed. It would be fun to do something big and spectacular for my 50th - Vegas, New York City, etc.- but not very smart right now. I think I'll be fine with another trip through the hill country, maybe this time following the nearby winery trail that a couple of friends have told me about. 

    I'll also start saving up for a Big Birthday Bash with all my high school friends this summer in Galveston. We're hoping to meet there one weekend so we can all just celebrate 50 together. I think THAT will be a birthday celebration to remember!

    

Unforgiven

    I know, I know...I deserved it. You looked the other way during that first...and second...batch of cyclops cookies, and when I had Rudy's BBQ brisket, turkey, AND sausage at the church Christmas party. You even ignored the fact that I skimped on some of my workouts.

   I took your generosity for granted. I got greedy. I tasted all of Mary Kay's cookies and even ate a couple of Reese's peanut butter trees. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I stepped on you and discovered the five extra pounds. After all, you had given me lots and LOTS of chances. I knew better. You were more than patient with me...more than I deserved, that's for sure.

    But...COME ON!! It's been almost TWO WEEKS now!! I've been so good...focusing on eating healthy again...sticking to lots of veggies...watching my portion sizes...working out SIX days a week, not just five. At Darla's party, I just had a small slice of that yummy carrot cake and only two slices of the brisket, even though I think it was probably the best that Tom's ever smoked!

    You'd think that would count for something! But no...the five pounds are still there, sticking like the cream cheese icing on that carrot cake. What more do you want from me??

    Will you EVER forgive me?

Back to Tokyo (Steakhouse, that is)

    Ah, Veggie Heaven with extra shrimp! Pass on the sake, though - I prefer red wine (specifically a merlot from Chile last night), although I'm sure there's a wine connoisseur out there somewhere shuddering about that. 

    I've been to Tokyo Steakhouse twice in my life now - the first time a few years ago for my birthday with Darla and Leslie, and then last night for Darla's birthday. I think it could easily become my favorite.  The food is delicious AND good for me - at least I like to think so.  And it's FUN - from catching the shrimp in your mouth, porpoise-style, that the cook pops at you with his spatula (I was two for two) to the stacked onion "steam engine" he creates. And then the challenge of eating with chopsticks - I was so proud of myself...I was able to eat everything with my chopsticks (except the onion soup, of course.)

Darla and Maddie, and,next, the onion "choo-choo"...

    

Joining Some Friendly Faces...

          Leslie: "Why aren't you on Facebook?"
          me:     "Huh? Are YOU on Facebook?"
          Leslie: "Yeah. EVERYONE is! Darla, Ann, both Ginas..."     

    It turns out my friends have been partying without me...

    Now, it just so happens I had been thinking about getting on Facebook for a couple of weeks. My friend Kim had sent in invitation asking me to join so I could see her pictures and know what was going on with her now that she's moved farther away and we never see each other.
    I first said no...no way! It's tough enough chiseling out time for this blog! I've caught glimpses of my kids' Facebook pages (before they're minimized!) and they looked pretty intricate, as in complicated. Like work. Like time spent 'fixing' it up. Time I should use working on all the things I put off doing while I blog (see "Procrastination").
    On top of all of that, I remember when Tommy first joined Facebook  - it was just for college kids. He complained when it was opened up to high schoolers, and now Kendall is always complaining about the "old" people trying to act like kids on Facebook. 
    But then I kept thinking about it and thought, well, why not? I realized it would be about the only way to stay in touch with Kim, and who says it's just for 'kids' anymore? 

    Unfortunately, that's as far as I had gotten with the decision until I talked to Leslie last night. She inspired me to ignore the still-decorated Christmas tree standing next to the computer and just do it. After all, I had already scratched something important off my to-do list - I finally registered for my class.
    It was easier than I thought it would be - and I already knew a LOT of people! Kim's invitation was there waiting for me, like a housewarming gift. I've had people write on my "wall" and send me messages and I don't feel like such a wallflower anymore. I still haven't figured it all out or completed all of my "favorites" lists, but all in due time...just like the Christmas tree and decorations... 

A Priority Problem

    I've procrastinated registering for the spring semester, and this is why: the advanced screenwriting class (which I should take so these first few pages don't just turn into dust, untouched and neglected) is an actual physical class, on a campus with traffic issues, parking issues, desks, as well as a teacher and classmates with faces.

    Well, that in itself isn't a problem. Despite the lack of flexibility and extra time required for traveling, I like the feel of a classroom...the camaraderie, the discipline, carrying my books and taking notes. I know. I'm weird.

    The problem is the class meets one night a week, and that night is Wednesday.

    Wednesdays = "Lost"

    And therein lies my dilemma. It's really pretty sad, isn't it? No WONDER I haven't had anything published in a while.

    Of course, now that I've confessed, I recognize that the scales aren't really evenly balanced - this isn't a decision crisis after all. Watching all the "Lost" episodes isn't on my list of personal goals, but finishing this screenplay is, so NATCH!...for the next few months, Wednesdays = screenplay class, not "Lost."

    (They do run the episodes online, don't they?)