Long Hollow

Shaking Things Up

    I am such a creature of habit...routines...well-worn ruts. For instance, every morning, Monday through Friday, I wake up around 5am (my body, that is...my mind joins it about a half hour later.) I get the coffee going, turn on the computer, eat breakfast.  Always the same thing - coffee, a glass of milk, and a slice of Pepperidge Farm Cinnamon Swirl bread, toasted with butter.

    Even when I started my health kick a few years ago, paying close attention to portion sizes, colors, cutting back on salt, sugar, fat and all the processed crap, I clung tight to the cinnamon toast routine. I didn't even switch to the whole wheat version. I didn't want to mess with my mornings, hated to have to think or make a decision about ANYTHING, much less food, that early in the morning. I had achieved balance and I liked it.

    In the back of my mind, though, that little voice wouldn't shut up about how eating a healthy breakfast is SO important. I finally decided, with 50 REALLY around the corner (on Monday!), that it was time for a change. I would alternate my toast mornings with...cereal mornings! Only healthy cereal, of course. Something with whole grains and low sugar. I took the RealAge test again recently, and even though they say my "real age" is 39, they also say I don't eat enough whole grains.

    Of course, making this change wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. Have you looked at the cereal aisle in the grocery store? There are dozens and dozens of different types of cereals, and, SURPRISE! even some of the self-promoted healthy ones are loaded with sugar and things I can't pronounce. After blocking the aisle for at least half an hour, reading and comparing ingredients, I finally decided on Kashi Go Lean. It touts itself as High Protein, High Fiber...crunchy fiber twigs, soy protein grahams and honey puffs. Yum?

    This morning I did it - I climbed out of my rut and had a bowl of cereal instead of my toast. It actually wasn't too bad, especially with a handful of fresh blueberries that turned the milk blue. Blue milk. Not quite another routine morning. Next time I think I'm going to add sliced strawberries. You're only young once!

Because by Your Holy Cross...

...you have redeemed the world.

    Kendall and I slipped into a back row during the second station - a little late, but not too much. Tommy had called, delaying me leaving the house. It's hard to say goodbye to a son you rarely see. But I hadn't attended Stations of the Cross yet this Lenten season - too many weekends out of town - and I didn't want to miss the chance.

    It's one of those exotic Catholic things I knew nothing about growing up as a Baptist. I was a little nervous the first time, not knowing what to expect, but I was so moved that now I go every Friday of Lent if I can.  It's a time to step out of my busy life and really reflect on Christ's sacrifice, his Passion, the last moments of his life on earth. You follow Jesus on his last journey, on fourteen significant moments between his condemnation to his placement in the tomb...and most-importantly, consider how they apply to your own life. It's similar to watching a Passion play, but, for me, it's more personal, more internalized.

    Our "stations" are wooden plaques, hand-carved by a parishioner, spaced out along the walls of the sanctuary; and our reflections are through the eyes of Mary, imagining how it felt to her to be witnessing her son's last moments. This always hits me hard, as the mother of two sons, imagining how it must have felt for her to watch her son suffer and die this way, and yet accept it as God's will. It makes me a tad ashamed of all the complaining I do.

   Lent itself was a new concept to me. I don't remember ever hearing it mentioned when I was growing up. Now even Baptist friends talk about what they're going to give up. One of them, Scott Gray, gave up drinking anything but water in support of Living Water International. He plans to donate the money he saves to this cause. (He's also going to be traveling in a few months to Haiti for hands-on involvement.) A blogger friend of mine, Pete, decided to sit in silence for thirty minutes every day. As he put it..."It will be my moment of listening to my breathing. And trusting that the Creator will breathe with me for a moment." (Read his complete post here.)

     I've always been more inclined to add things that would help me on my spiritual journey, strengthen my relationship with God, rather than give up things...an extra prayer, daily inspirational readings, deliberately going out of my way to help someone each day. Whatever I add, I try to keep up with all year. I think adding is easier than giving up, though...a few years ago I gave up candy (well, everything but dark chocolate), and I was surprised how tough it was to pull my hand back from that candy jar. I prayed a lot that Lent! It reminded me just how weak I am by myself. God is truly my strength.

    This year I gave up my nightly "strictly-for-my-health" one glass of red wine. New health reports were saying that while it might be heart-healthy, it could increase the risk of breast cancer. Even though heart problems are what historically create havoc in my family, it still weakens that "health" excuse. Another thing...my taste in wine was becoming more and more expensive, verging on selfish extravagance, and lord knows, we need the money for other things right now. But I admit there was another reason...in the back of my mind a small question had begun to grow larger: was my nightly glass of wine truly just a choice, a "healthy" habit, or was it becoming an addiction?

    I confess I missed winding down with my glass of red the first few nights, but I was also very relieved to find it wasn't nearly as hard as giving up candy.

    

Frankie - An Afternoon at the Guinea Spa

 

  

 

  

 

  

 

Ah, much better! 

A Weekend Packed Tight

    A new weekend is knocking on the door and I feel like I just said goodbye to the last one...it was a whole month's worth of faces, fun, and emotion packed into a few short days.

    It was a weekend of family and friends - Tom's brother Kenny and his wife Cathy drove in from Wichita, Kansas on Thursday. Their future daughter-in-law Lynn graduated from the Combat Systems Officer Program (with the Academic Excellence Award) at Randolph Air Force Base in San Antonio on Friday and was confirmed a Catholic at the cathedral in San Antonio on Sunday, so they stayed with us in between. On Saturday, their son Tom (there are lots of Tom Shallues!), Lynn, and several of their friends came to our house for a barbecue.

    Only I wasn't there. Saturday morning, I left Tom here playing host (and he had a lot of fun) while I took off for Dallas on a road trip with my friend Darla. We had "an event" to attend with other "old" high school classmates - a surprise 50th birthday dinner for Tully, who had flown in from California to watch the March Madness games with Brad. Jon played host to us in his beautiful home. (Tully, Brad, and Jon all played basketball together in high school.) Another friend, Gina, also attended with a friend of hers, and even my son Tommy joined the party - he lives only a few miles from the restaurant, and I couldn't imagine being that close without seeing him. After dinner, I caught a ride in his new car to check out his house and meet his roommates. Really nice guys.

    Tully was VERY surprised, by the way, especially considering his birthday was in December. We really caught him off guard! The pictures are priceless (see them below).

    My weary world traveler, Kendall, straggled in Sunday evening, looking very Euro in her new pleather jacket and jeans (she wouldn't let me take a picture - she hadn't taken a shower in two days or slept in 30 hours!) She'd also picked up a cough on her travels. It was so good to see her sweet face, safe and sound in front of me again, especially when she told us about some of their (mis)adventures. There were angels working overtime around that group of girls, that's for sure. It's better I didn't know at the time. But what a blow to my mother's heart when she told me she never received my e-mail! I hate that she went this whole week thinking we didn't care enough to write her.

    It was also Sunday evening when Daniel found Sammy, the orphaned baby squirrel, triggering an emotional roller coaster ride that hasn't yet ended. My heart still aches and doubts continue to flutter about my decision. The rational grownup inside of me says we did the right thing...the optimistic dreamer still wonders. In either case, I regret making a hasty decision without first talking to Daniel about it.  It was really his decision to make, not mine.  

Ken, the Big Brother of 9 boys...and Cathy, who doesn't age...

 

Surprising Tully...

 

 

My Tommy and me...

Gina, me, Tully, Jon, Darla, Brad

What the...Hail???

    

    Around 5pm yesterday afternoon, all "hail" broke loose above our house, pounding on our metal roof, stripping leaves and small branches from the junipers and oaks, knocking out the lights lining the front pathway, destroying the top of Tom's little Capri convertible, and scaring the bejeezus out of the puppies and Frankie (I think he took cover under one of the cars, poor little guy!)

    Through my eyes a little later, headed to class in Austin...snow-like drifts piled next to mounds of vibrant bluebonnets on the side of the highway and scattered throughout the woods...bits of cedar leaves and twigs scattered across the road...sunshine and blue sky behind me in the west, turbulent gray, stormy skies in front of me in the east...a perfect double rainbow, vivid stripes of every hue, arching north and south above me.

    Driving home, into the hills...waves of fog rolling across the highway, a navy blue sky full of stars, the smell of fresh-cut cedar.

    More pictures...

 

 

 

 

 

Saying Goodbye

    I'm not a country girl.

    I might live in the country, and I'm not afraid of the dark or walking down a country road alone, or tarantulas. I know how to twirl a stick in front of me to clear unseen spider webs from my path, and to check for scorpions and snakes when I lift a rock (away from me.) I also know to dig graves deep and cover them with lots of rocks to discourage any "unburying."

    But I think a real country girl wouldn't cry every time one of the wild things dies, like the beautiful red fox I found dead in the road without a mark on him, or Ruthie the white guinea, or now Sammy the precious baby squirrel. Would a real country girl even name these wild things?         

    Death is just part of life, and these wild things are just part of the cycle. I know that. But I also know that I'll always give a name and personality to any pair of black or brown eyes that stare into mine, no matter how beady they are, and I'll cry when those eyes close forever, their memories tucked in my heart.

Umm...what do we do now?

    

    That's what we were all wondering when Daniel carried the baby squirrel home, curled up in a little ball in the palm of his hand. He had taken the dogs (and Frankie) for a walk. Near the curve, Frankie spotted something in the woods. Daniel and the dogs went to investigate, but before Daniel even knew what it was, Charly had scooped the baby into his mouth. However, when Daniel yelled "NO", Charly let Daniel take it.

    We went straight to the computer. Within seconds I found just what we needed..."Rescuing and Raising Orphaned Squirrels." Within an hour, Daniel was cupping the baby and feeding it a mixture of water, sugar, and salt through a syringe. (It made me so proud seeing how concerned, gentle and tender he was with that baby!)

    He wanted to take it back to the dorm with him, but he already had a load to carry up this morning. I promised him I'd take good care of him and if he still wanted it, Tom would drop it off one morning on his way to work.

    I stopped by the vet's office this morning and picked up some "formula" - kitten milk replacement. The website said to use puppy milk replacement, but our vet said she preferred kitten. One of the women working in the office came out to see Sammy (that's what Tom has named him), and showed me her 'baby' - a tiny squirrel half Sammy's size with just the beginning of fuzz on his body. It still resembled a peanut as much as a squirrel. She'd had him for three weeks, and he was eating and growing. I had high hopes for Sammy. Once at work, I carried him into my office and put his box down on the heating pad. I mixed up the food, but he barely ate. I tried again later with the same results.

    Now Tom's concerned that when he moves around the box, he doesn't use his hind legs - just pulls himself with his arms. He's afraid it means his back is broken. I guess it's possible. Maybe from falling from the nest (although Daniel didn't see one near where he found it.) Maybe when Charly scooped him up, although we didn't see any marks or other signs of injury to him. Maybe he was born that way, and abandoned by his mother.

    But until I talk to the vet, I'm remaining optimistic. Maybe it's just a developmental thing. I searched several sites and couldn't find anything definitive about leg development or walking/crawling stages, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed, feeding him every four hours (he ate a little bit more last time), talking baby talk, trying to keep him warm, and whatever else I can think of to help him along.

    I hope Sammy's okay.

 

 

 

Playing "Where in the world is..."

    I have been ALL over the world this month...virtually, anyway.

First, my friend Rae tromped all over New Zealand with her husband for two weeks, sharing her experiences and photos with all of us on Facebook as much as she could. Here she is inside of a maoreki boulder.

 

 

 

 

 

    And of course, Kendall has been jet-setting and tourist-ing all over Spain and southern France. Google has become an intimate friend of mine this week. See some of what Kendall has seen, only in PERSON...Chateau at Peyrepertuse and Carcasonne, France...(photos by James Martin, copyright 2002 and 2003)

 

 

    Tom and Daniel trekked around Big Bend last weekend, and now today Tom is off in San Antonio with his brother's family, probably eating dinner on the riverwalk, and Daniel is popping the tent open again at Krause Springs.

    I took my own little sightseeing trip this morning. It was just my morning walk, but the wildflowers are waking up (the purple flowers are back!) reminding me that this part of the world is pretty special, too.

 

 

 

A Face of Marriage

After 26 years, just one look says a lot...

 

 

"You're annoying the hell outa me, but I love you anyway..."

Wearing Green and Weary Traveling

    Corned beef, potatoes, cabbage and carrots...Irish soda bread and pistachio cheesecake...St. Brendan's-spiked coffee...a deck hugged by green treetops at sunset...friends, new and old, all ages...Irish music drifting through the air...softly...magically.

    That's St. Patrick's Day at the Monahan's. In my Heinz 57 genetic make-up, there must be some Irish, because I sure feel lucky to be their friend and be included in the celebration every year.

    And if that wasn't enough, this year there was an extra pot of gold to make this St. Paddy's day extra memorable...Joe set up his powerful telescope and introduced us to the Horsehead Nebula. Without the telescope, it was just another star in the sky. It pays to take a closer look at times.

    Tom and Daniel staggered in from Big Bend too dirty, too tired, and too late to hit the Monahan's. Tom is sick - he coughed all night, keeping us both awake. But he was sick when he left, so I'm just glad he didn't get worse. He said it was still fun. They covered about thirty-five miles in four days. I can't wait to see Daniel's pictures.

    No more word from Kendall. Looking at the itinerary, I'm not surprised she hasn't had time to send an email. Yesterday morning they rolled into Barcelona by train and spent the day sightseeing - Las Ramblas, Gothic Cathedral, Picasso Museum, Palau de la Musica. Today they'll be moving on to a new adventure. Soon it will just a memory and a collection of photographs. I want her to take advantage of every minute she's there.

Party at the Pole!

    Scenes from my parents' busy backyard this past weekend...it seems like THE place to be...at least for red-winged blackbirds, sparrows, 'possums, and squirrels...

 

 

 

   

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...

Fifi, Harley, and Mundo - if the name fits...

    More from this past weekend in Houston...

    First...my parents are kitten-sitting! Fifi is my nephew's kitten (his girlfriend named it.) While he's in Montana working, Fifi's hanging out with Mama and Daddy. It only took a few 'here kitty-kitty"s for her to venture from her hiding place and check me out. Before too long, I was scratching under her chin and she was purring. I miss kittens! (I would have to choose between a kitten and our allergist - the allergist wins.) Fifi fits that delicate, blue-eyed face (I suspect a touch of Siamese in there somewhere.)

    Second...Donnie has a new Harley...and it's LOADED! CD player...fan...you-name-it. It only took two pictures for him to smile for me. He's learning! He's planning to 'easy-rider' it out to Vegas to visit a friend. Was there ever really a Harley Davidson? Did he look like the motorcycles - big and burly?

    Third...there was a celebrity, a real Texas legend, at my friend Chris' party last Saturday. Tom and I are both going deaf, so we couldn't catch his name that night. Just that he was a successful songwriter from the '80's. Chris told me later who it was: Mundo Earwood. It's one of those names that has gotten buried under the piles of years, but when I heard it, it drifted up, surrounded by images of Gilley's...Kenny Stabler's Diamondback Saloon...Hello, Texas...cowboys, boots, and longnecks. A name like Mundo Earwood can't be totally forgotten.

It's here! Really! It is!

     There's a fire in the woodburning stove and it's cold and rainy outside tonight, but this is just a last-ditch effort from Winter. I captured proof last week that Spring is really here. We're too far south for this breath of winter to harm these gorgeous early arrivals...wisteria dripping purple blossoms in front of the high school...my grandmother's azaleas exploding in front of my mother's house...my dad's yesterday-today-and-tomorrow plant that blooms a different color each day...bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush dancing on the sides of the highway between Houston and Austin...

 

 

 

RAIN!

    I woke in the night to the sound of rain outside the open window. It was beautiful! This isn't just a quick shower, either - it's expected to stick around for a few days. Just the kind of soaking bath this dusty land needs right now.

    I don't think Tom's going to complain about it waiting to rain until he has some days off to get work done outside - he has spent the last two days clearing brush from the creek area and cleaning the outside of the house, cleaning all of the windows and doors, screens, glass, wood, and all. I'm sure he's ready for a rainy day in more ways than one.

A Birthday 'Ace in the Hole'

    My 50th birthday looms closer and closer, but I'm surrounded by friends who are riding the rapids and taking the plunge with me, so rather than dreading the drop-off, I'm just enjoying the ride. Almost every square on my March calendar has a name written on it - I'm thinking the hospital nurseries back in March 1959 were really crowded! I won't mention what was obviously going on nine months before that...

    Chris, one of those March 1959 babies, celebrated his birthday in style this weekend, throwing a huge party featuring the Ace in the Hole band. It was an eclectic crowd...all ages, shapes, colors, styles...I'm sure representative of all the different sides of Chris. His high school side was adequately represented, that's for sure.

Here's Chris with a few of the girls (me, Donna, Gina, Darla, Ann)...

Ace in the Hole...    

 

A-Twitter, A Party, and Tagging Along

    I'm now an official tweeter...or twitterer. Anyway...I gave in to my curiosity about this latest craze a few days ago. I figured, I'm blogging, I'm on Facebook, why not Tweet...er...Twitter?

    I have to say, I don't understand why everyone is all "a-twitter" about Twitter. I don't get it. I admit, I haven't had time for the tutorial, or whatever, but my first impression was really disappointing.

    Joining Facebook was like stepping into a party - getting to 'see' all my friends, reconnect with old ones, get to know my new ones a little better. It's like life in a small town, where you're always bumping into someone you know while you're in line at the post office or the drugstore and spending a few minutes chatting while you wait your turn. There's always something going on in Facebook.

    Joining Twitter, on the other hand, was like stepping into a waiting room where everyone looks up, smiles politely, then gets back to reading a magazine.  It's quiet. It's elevator music playing softly in the background, whereas Facebook is an outdoor concert, and everyone is talking, laughing, and dancing.

    But that's just my opinion, based on a first impression. I guess there are plenty of people who love it, who are ADDICTED to it, just as many people (not me, of course) are apparently addicted to Facebook. Maybe if I took the tutorial, spent some time exploring...maybe then I'd 'get' it. But, alas, I just don't have time to learn something new right now.

    For one thing, I'm busy vacationing in New Zealand. Well, it's just a virtual vacation, based on Facebook messages from my friend Rae who is there with her husband for the next couple of weeks. She's sharing the experience with all of us (as much as one can through Facebook messages), with descriptions and photographs - we've been with her in the airport VIP lounge, on the plane ride, and we've seen the view from their hotel (gorgeous!) Today she reported they are taking a fast boat ride and then bungy jumping from Kawarau Bridge. (A virtual bungy jump is the closest I'll EVER come, that's for sure.) I can't wait to see what "we" do tomorrow!

    Actually, tomorrow I'll be helping a friend celebrate his 50th birthday, and it promises to be one heckuva celebration. I can't honestly say I'm glad I'm not REALLYin New Zealand right now, but I can say I'm glad I'll be celebrating another friend's birthday.   

    

Acting Up - A Night in Vegas

    Last night I was drunk in Vegas, getting suckered in by a sidewalk hustler, even putting my football team on the line. I guess I should make it clear I was playing a part in my classmate's screenplay, having a blast getting into this middle-aged pushy tough guy character. I had two other parts to read, but this was my favorite.

    I can see why people want to be actors. You get to act in ways that would be totally inappropriate otherwise. It's so liberating and...well, fun!  Just watch some kids playing 'let's pretend..."

    I loved acting when I was in elementary school. I don't think I was very good, judging by the fact that I never got a very big part in our class plays. But I loved it - the costumes, the stage, everything.   In kindergarten I was a clown. Second grade, a sugarplum fairy ballerina (the only purple one - my mother didn't get the message that we were supposed to be pink. I can't remember how I felt about being different. I bet I didn't like it at first, but my mother was able to convince me that it made me special. She's a great mom that way.)

    In fifth grade I played an Italian watermelon salesman. I wore a white shirt and a fake mustache. I still remember my lines: "You busta my-a watermelons! You lonkahead! You imbecile!" I got the part because I had memorized and recited a poem named "Leetla Giorgio Washeenton" by Thomas Augustine Daly for the class (with a near-perfect Italian accent, I'm sure.)

    Our teacher, Barbara Haygood, bribed us with a star chart to memorize poems. You got different colored stars depending on the length of the poem. I'm not sure why, but this just clicked with me. I memorized dozens of other long poems printed in our worn 1957 edition of  Favorite Poems Old and New (I have it sitting beside me right now - I keep it handy - and I see the names and pages of some of my favorites jotted in the front in my ten-year-old handwriting) just to see the shiny colored stars accumulate under my name on the chart:  "Annabel Lee", "The Land of Counterpane", "A Visit from St. Nicholas", and "Tidings of Great Joy" (the Christmas Story from Luke), among others.

    I have trouble remembering where I put my keys most days, but I can still recite "Little Boy Blue" by Eugene Field (so can my sister - we do it for fun pretty often), and most of "One, Two, Three" by Henry Cuyler Bunner. Look them up if you need a good cry.

    Anyway, something happened between then and high school speech. I was mortified to get up in front of people. My biggest regret in high school is not taking part in our senior play - Lil' Abner - but there was just no way I was that brave.

    I encouraged my kids to participate in theater. None of them had a driving passion, but they enjoyed it. They weren't mortified, thank goodness. And I'm relieved I've gotten over my fear. It's so much more fun without it.

    I'm even considering taking an improv class that one of my classmates is teaching in a couple of weeks. That would be a HUGE step for me. For now, I'll stick to playing drunk gambling big shots from the safety of my school desk.

The Color of Carolyn

    Carolyn...one of a kind. Larger than life in a petite package. Haircolor? Depended on your mood - black...or white...or just shave it all off and start over. Don't do anything halfway. And that includes cleaning house.

    Carolyn...you created your own boundaries, refused to be defined or limited by age, race, religion, gender, illness, pain, or even wheelchair... Who says seventy is too old to get your belly button pierced? Or to wear tight bluejeans?

    Carolyn...loving and loyal, stubborn and feisty...a soft heart in a thick skin, toughened and strengthened by life, refusing to back down or quit finding joy...ready to fight like a mama bear for your family and friends.  Connections might loosen but are never lost, never forgotten.

    Carolyn...last wishes: No embalming. Wear black socks and Catholic medal. Carry Rosary beads. Casket built by grandson Joseph. Sexy make up applied by granddaughter Bree. Do it my way.

    Carolyn...a unique color, now faded, but never gone.

Rain Dance, Anyone?

We've had some absolutely beautiful weather lately - the kind that calls to you to get outside, away from the computer, or the dishes, or the laundry. But seriously, we need some rain! Need proof?

Our pond, that first February...

 

Our pond, fourteen years later (two weeks ago)...

Since that first year, it's often been full and overflowing, the little waterfall just below our house roaring like the surf at a beach. At other times it's gone low, down to the original creek bed dotted with fossils. But this is the driest it's been in a long, long time.

"Lake" Travis is pretty thirsty, too. It's not much of a lake these days. I took these from my friend's balcony this past Saturday. Their dock is usually up near the little bushes. You're not supposed to see that finger of land at all. The houses to the right have docks sitting on dry land.

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)