Long Hollow

Royal Wedding, the Sequel. Yes, I'll be watching. (And my Friday-ish Favorite Photo)

 

On a summer morning in 1981, I stumbled up the stairs and into my condo after a twelve-hour night shift, turned on the television, plopped on the floor, and watched the fairy-tale wedding of Diana and Charles.

Despite the cynicism of my 22 years, I guess I believed in the fairy-tale, and must have said an envious prayer as I watched, because just two months later I met my own prince.

My life turned out to be the happily-ever-after story, not Diana's. At least as much as anyone's can be these days. (Knock on wood, quick!)

We appeared to be nothing alike, but for some reason I identified with Diana - her relationship with Charles seemed similar to a long-term relationship I had at her age ... I understood her struggle to please, to gain attention, the battles with bulimia and anorexia and self-esteem. (Thank the good Lord mine didn't result in marriage.)

I had two sons in a row, just as she did. And my oldest son even looked like William for many years (I'm not the only one who said so.) 

Because of Diana, I became a Royal Watcher. Not in excess, but I watched the interviews, the news blurbs, read the books. When she died, I cried, glued to the television for days.

I know I'm not the only one.

I really don't understand it. It's against character for me, but there you have it. And for the same reasons I don't understand, I'll be up early - really early - this morning watching Diana's son tie the knot with that lovely young girl Kate, praying that after their fairy-tale wedding, they live happily-ever-after.

For Diana's sake.

The commemorative mug above was a birthday gift from my sweet friend Kim a few years ago. Thank you again, Kimmy!

 

And now, this goofy capture of Max is my Friday-ish Favorite Photo, because the look of delirious joy on his face as Daniel pets him is a mirror of the joy I felt having all three kids here.

I hope all of you have a joyous weekend!

Twenty-One Years Later...

"You have a daughter? I just remember the two boys!"

"Yep. I had her in '91. What year did you leave?"

"'90." 

"Well, that explains it then. Here's her picture..."

"Yeah, I saw it. She looks just like you. You don't look like you, but she does!"

When Ken first met me, I was 19. He was... well, he was just one of those old guys who hired on at the same time I did. Way up there in his late 20's or early 30's, most likely. One of those guys I worked twelve-hour shifts with who became like older brothers to me. Those guys who will always make me feel like I'm 19.

I like that.

It's hard to believe so many years have passed since we've laid eyes on each other. That's the way it is, though - you see someone all the time, and then life turns a corner. Next thing you know, twenty-one years have gone by.

Ken and his wife, Cynthia, now live in Panama. We've exchanged one or two emails and that's about it, so it was such a wonderful shock to hear his voice on the phone Sunday telling me they were in Austin, and could we get together?

We only had an hour or so to visit, just enough to reminisce a little and catch each other up to speed, like old friends do. We compared notes on co-workers (he hadn't heard about Roger) and fingers crossed, I've convinced him to come back to the states in September for a DuPont reunion I'm helping to organize. He's not the only one I haven't seen in twenty-one years - and none of us are getting any younger. (Even this perpetual "19-year-old" sitting at my computer.)

THEN (a staged photo of me and Ken, circa 1980, in the plant lab with Larry, one of those other "old guys". That's a lab pipette or syringe in my hand, by the way, used on methanol tests. Don't start any rumors!)

NOW (not much difference, is there? Well, maybe a little less hair on both heads, but I, for one, think it's an improvement, don't you?)

“My friends have made the story of my life.

In a thousand ways they have turned my limitations into beautiful privileges.”

~Helen Keller

 

 

 

 

Pausing for a moment to look back

The window beside me frames a pre-dawn indigo sky separating from the black treeline - soon I'll be able to make out Belle's black body sitting patiently just beyond the French doors, head-tilted, waiting for our walk. 

I've climbed from the rapids my life has become to sit here on the bank in the quiet and take a breath, think about the past weekend and the week ahead, before diving back in and getting carried along in the swift currents. I can get moving so fast, from one thing to the next, that I sometimes forget to stop and savor.

Easter weekend overflowed with blessings ... kids, dogs, food ... dancing, Mass, dinner with friends. We walked a little, worked a little, watched movies, rocked on the porch. I took lots of photos but have barely had time to look at them.

Last night a dear friend from the past stopped by with his wife, and then I made a boomerang trip downtown to pick up TG for a doctor's visit this morning. I'll return her to campus, put in a few hours of (paid) work, and then prepare for a meeting this evening. Tomorrow night I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a reunion with another friend. Swirling around it all is a looming deadline - or two or three.

I refuse to let myself feel over-anxious about any of it. I'm determined to keeping breathing, keep my eyes open and enjoy the ride. I'm blessed.

Oops, the sky is now a soft gray and the trees are green. Time to dive back into the rapids. I've enjoyed this little break with you. Hope you have a wonderful week!

 

 

 

 

 

Reflections on a Good Friday

I stepped out this morning to a world, well, not quite washed clean, but at least refreshed.

Sometime during the night or this morning, it rained, leaving this puddle full of reflection on the porch like a mysterious gift.

The rain settled the dust and I'm trying hard to do likewise with my thoughts that are eager to whirl away in every direction like so many dust devils.

I'm trying to keep a firm grip on them, trying to be full of focused, calm reflection myself today, like the gift of pooled raindrops outside.

Today is Good Friday, a day Christians around the world honor as the day Christ died on the cross for our sins. So why do we call it "good"? Several people posted the answer on Facebook, better than I could say it:

In the original language, 'good' meant 'holy'. It is good because on that day, Christ died for us while we were still sinners. Without His sacrifice we could not be reconciled to God! Remember Him today and give thanks for what He did for us.

On Good Friday and again on Easter Sunday, we're reminded of miracles and opposites, like an errant rain cloud in a drought-cursed sky showering blessings on your dusty soul when you least expect it. 

I've got a zillion errands to run today, so many things to try to take care of and I still won't even make a dent in my to-do lists, but I'm going to try to hang on to these reflections today as I head into the Easter weekend.

Peace to you!

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son,

that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

– John 3:16 (King James Version)

 

Book'em Danno!

 

What do you get when you mix a Hootenanny with a 50th birthday party?

A Hawaii-Hootenanny 5-0!

And Saturday night Tom and I were lucky enough to attend one for Liane,

Ms. Hootenanny, herself.

What's a Hootenanny? Here's the official description from its Meet-Up site:

"These open jam sessions are open to all musicians at our outdoor woodsy stage. We keep it mainly acoustic, but we can hookup to some amps occasionally. We do our thing every Friday night and have a great time playing and enjoying newcomer talent. Not much of an audience yet, but we like it just fine! The core band is Linton Mancilla. Our style is a mixture of many, so we can play along with your songs, whatever they may be. We usually have guitar players, a keyboard setup, a mandolin player, a flautist, and some type of percussion (no trap sets yet please!) We start at about 7:00, and people just gradually show up. If this would interest you, please call for directions and such. We are on myspace, search for Linton Mancilla, and at www.sonicbids.com/LintonMancilla"

Ever wonder what a Texas-style Luau would be like?

Come along with me and I'll show you...

You have Big John frying catfish.

Eric grilling salmon.

Cute couples dressing Island-style.

Party decorations. Ahem.

Arrival of the Birthday Girl.

Cupcakes by Karen, Queen of Desserts

Friends, Family and Food

Surfing...

Boots and fancy jeans...

Instruments and musicians waiting patiently for...

Music.

And the full moon watching over it all.

The end.

Dang it! I'm a couch potato after all! Are you?

 

Despite sweating at least an hour almost every day, running, jumping rope, lifting free weights, stretching  ... despite trying to strengthen my heart, lungs, bones and maintain my flexibility in my fight against the villainous side effects of menopause ... I found out I'm losing anyway, because the rest of the day I sit on my bohunkus in front of a computer.

And when I say "the rest of the day", I really mean the rest of the day.

For my steady-paycheck job, I sit in front of a computer for hours and hours. And after clocking out, I settle in again in front of the screen to write, edit photography, check emails, pay bills....

My life revolves around sitting in front of the computer.

And now I find out it's killing me!

In an article for Men's Life, Maria Masters says I could even be labeled a couch potato by some doctors: "New evidence suggests, in fact, that the more hours a day you sit, the greater your likelihood of dying an earlier death regardless of how much you exercise or how lean you are." 

But hallelujah, there's something I can do about it without quitting my desk job(s) and trying to find one as a bicycle messenger or fire fighter or lumberjack.

Apparently, just taking small breaks helps counter the effects ...  even little things like standing up when I'm on the phone can help. The important thing is to get up and do something at least every hour.

It's not as easy as it sounds, though, at least not for me. It's like I'm under a spell, frozen to my chair, and it's a major effort to unfold myself, even to go to the bathroom! My husband says he falls under the same spell at work.

But I'm not sweating every morning just to have all the benefits evaporate because of an otherwise sedentary lifestyle. Now I keep an eye on that little computer clock. Every hour I stand up, face the window, jog in place, do some stretches, and every two hours or so I head outside for a brisk two-minute walk. My legs are so grateful for that stretch! And getting outside in the fresh air is a wonderful mental break, as well.  Better than a fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee. 

So if you're like me, stuck behind a computer screen ALL DAY LONG, get up and get moving for your health's sake! If I haven't convinced you, be sure to read the article yourself (click HERE) as well as THIS ONE.

Because I care about you and want you to stick around for a long, long time. 

Time to re-sort my rocks

 

You've seen that story about the professor and the rocks, right? The one where he uses them to explain priorities to his classroom?  

If you haven't, here's a synopsis (if you know the story, just skip this part)...

To illustrate time management and priorities, a professor sets a large jar on the table in front of his class, and fills it with some fist-sized rocks. Then he adds some pebbles that fit between the large rocks. Then he pours sand in on top of those, and finally, in one version, he pours in two beers, filling every single little bit of space. Nothing more will fit.

 With each step until the beer, the professor asks the class if the jar is full. They say yes, then he proves them wrong by adding something else to it. 

There are several points you can take from the story...

1. If you fill up the jar with the little stuff first, you won't have room for the big stuff (your family, your health - physical, spiritual and mental, and other things of highest importance.) Those need to go in first. Top priority.
2. You can squeeze a lot into the empty spaces surrounding those big rocks; use your free time productively. Multitask.
3. There's always room in a day for a couple of beers. Or a dance. Or a game of ping-pong. Or a walk with the dogs.
4.  Unfortunately, the jar eventually becomes too full and bits start falling over the side, unnoticed - nothing more will fit unless something else comes out.

As much as I love #3, I'm realizing the truth of #4. That's where I am right now - my jar is full and overflowing. 

I wish I could just get a new jar.

Instead, I'm having to virtually dump everything out onto the table and re-evaluate all of my rocks, pebbles, sand, and even the beer. I gotta decide what goes back in - and in what order - and what gets left on the table.

For now, anyway.

Because, as Patty Loveless says, "Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same," and soon enough, I'll need to do this all over again, and maybe some of those things I'm having to leave on the table for now will be able to fit in the jar again ... things like playing my drums, playing around with photography, keeping up with Facebook and blogging friends, posting so much on my own blogs, slipping away so often with my friends ... even working on my book. 

They won't be left out for long. Those are things I love! Things I need!

But I have a new venture that's scary and exciting at the same time - something so new to me that for the next couple of months I'm going to have to devote a lot of time to learning and preparing. I've tried fitting it into the existing spaces, but that's when I realized my jar is overflowing. There are no empty spaces left.

As much as I hate to admit it, something's got to go.

For now. Just for a little while.

(Wish me luck!)

Long Hollow Updates and my Friday Favorite Photo

I watched her glide from one end of the hollow to the other, riding the gusty wind currents like a surfer rides a wave, shifting ever so slightly to stay in the drift. She went all the way from my left to my far right without a single flap of her wings. Beautiful.

I don't have a photo - I didn't want to take my eyes off of her.

I love the feel of the wind in my hair and on my face. I love the sound of it talking to me, whooshing through the tree branches, making them dance. For me, it's the feeling and sound of joy and renewal, invigorating and energizing.

Except danger, in the form of fire, can ride the wind just like this morning's hawk. When it does, the trees don't dance ... they burn, along with everything else. They're burning in west Texas already.

We need rain.

I love the sun and the wind, but we need rain.

This used to be our pond.

It's down to the original creekbed now. (Yes, that's the d*&% dam in the background.)

As long as there's at least a puddle of water, though, Max is happy. Just enough to get his belly wet - that's all he needs. See him smiling after a quick dip? 

We might be investing in a plastic kids' pool soon.

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Remember the centipede that terrorized our home a few days ago? I'm happy (very happy!) to report that it's dead.

I discovered it stretched out, beautifully straight and still, on the floor downstairs yesterday morning. I took advantage of the situation and snapped several photos of it, including this one, so you can see how long it is.

It's actually a small one! Any larger and the Raid we sprayed around its fortress couch wouldn't have even slowed it down.

Oh, and thanks so much to all of you who mentioned the possibilities of babies, by the way.

Ahem.

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Aspirin is really and truly a miracle drug! Remember not too long ago I thought Max was going downhill fast and would be lame soon? Well that boy is like a puppy again, now that he gets 500 mg of aspirin twice a day. He prances, pounces on lizards (okay, tries to), wrestles with Belle, and runs again. Really runs! 

The difference is amazing! I'm happy.

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My sister Brenda is out of the hospital again and getting stronger by the minute. She is even beginning to walk with her walker (farther than just to her wheelchair!) But please continue to pray - she's got three months to go with no pressure on that hip. Thank you!

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My favorite photo this week has nothing to do with any of that - I just like it. I'm loving the flowers while they last, which won't be long, if this drought continues. (I found out from a blog friend this is called Blue-Eyed Grass. Perfect! Thanks, Gail!) 

We need rain!

Many a man curses the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance to drive away the hunger.

~Saint Basil

 

 

Faith, Hope, Love (what would I do without my friends?)

 

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us."

~ Albert Schweitzer

My friend Jillsy sent this to me last week -  my prize for contributing the most bird photos to her Tweet Around the World blog hop. I was expecting a set of her beautiful cards (she creates greeting cards from her photographs) and that would have been wonderful, so this was a huge surprise, and of course, just what I needed.

All I could think was, how did she know? How did she know I needed this boost, this reminder, this encouragement? 

Some days I feel I'm going crazy, trying to do too much, chase too many dreams at once. I wonder if I should just give up and be practical, focus on making money now rather than pour my time and energy on a maybe later. But there's a clock ticking in my brain that I can't stop; it makes it tough to put those dreams off any longer. Yet I know we need money now, so I also take on projects and jobs that will pull in the green right away.

Jillsy says she has a placque just like it and she keeps it near her desk so she can look at it often, draw inspiration and strength from it, and keep going. She knows me well enough now to know I need it, too, I guess.

For now, mine is waiting to be hung on the wall in my future office, a constant reminder of her encouragement and support.

 

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Saturday afternoon I met a group of friends for a late lunch - they called it my birthday lunch, and that was fine. I'll use any excuse to get together with them.

But they got me a gift, and even though I should be upset with them for it, how can I? They pitched in together to get me this...

 

Yes, Photoshop Elements 9! Can you believe it? I still can't! When I opened the box, I'm sure my jaw dropped.

I bet I even drooled a little.

For their part, I think they realized I wasn't going to stop posting photos of them on my blog and Facebook, and they figured this was as much a gift for themselves as it was for me; I can whittle a few pounds here, smooth a few wrinkles there, snip the gray hair.

And I promise, girls, I will! Thank you, thank you, Darla, Rae, Leslie, Gwen, Debbie and Donna!

As if that wasn't enough, they also gave me these...

...a wine stopper and a cross magnet (do they know me or what?) and framed reminder of the love of my friends and the faith they have in me - the faith I need to have in myself.

 

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I've often used the "pebble in a pond" analogy when trying to illustrate consequences to my kids - every action we make creates ripples that affect other people. Good actions equal good ripples, bad actions equal bad ripples. 

I didn't state it as eloquently or elaborate on it as far as Baron Batch did in his beautiful essay on those ripples. My friend Berniece emailed it to me recently, along with this note: My father found this in the paper, then my sister mailed it to me. I will be having my students read it in class. Very inspiring, just like your writing. Love, Berniece 

After I read it, I was humbled by Berniece's words, because Batch's essay is so good. It was also just what I needed to read. Full of hope and encouragement to never give up.

What a wonderful ripple from Berniece.(Read Batch's essay HERE.)

 

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Okay, I started this post earlier in the week and planned to finish it up last night. 

But yesterday, mentally and inspirationally drained by a day's work, I opened my mailbox and found it stuffed and overflowing with more faith, hope and love.

First, this beautiful package from my friends Shari and Robert...

I hated to unwrap it, it was so beautiful!

But I did, and look what I found...

Shari knows I love vintage roses (I have a 'Rose' bathroom!) and also, see that bit of lace at the top? ... it's a remnant of a doily handmade by her grandmother - how much more inspiring can that be, to have her give me a bit of her own grandmother's love?

But that's just Shari and Robert. I'm lucky.

 

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A large box took up most of the mailbox. Inside I found another beautifully wrapped package...

...a gift from my creative, artistic friend Annie K.

She knows what I love, too - this is a hand-decorated journal, full of blank pages waiting for my thoughts, and sweet, encouraging reminders on the outside... 

Thank you, Annie!

 

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This morning I sat at the computer to really and truly finish this post ... but, ever the procrastinator, decided to first glance at my emails.

One from Jillsy caught my eye right away: "OMG!!!!!!!!!" was the subject. Inside, in all caps, she let me know Pioneer Woman had chosen my photo, one of my brother Donnie, for Group 3 of her Brothers Photo Assignment. It's one of a series I took of him for a blog post just as he pulled up to our house on his Harley, after an adventure to Montana last year.

Having it selected was sweet, but what made it sweeter were these words from Jillsy: "I'M OVERJOYED!" She's the one who introduced me to Flickr, Pioneer Woman Photography, and so much more.

(So many ripples she has sent my way.)

When I added the photo, I really had no hope of it being selected. 

Well, I guess I had a little hope, sprinkled with teensy seeds of faith in miracles.

This is proof that dreams can come true. Maybe it's a little dream, but they count, too - they're what keep you moving to the big ones.

 

 

So I'll keep dreamin' ... thanks to my friends.

And I'll try to do a better job sending out ripples of encouragement, faith, love and hope.

You keep dreamin' too! 

Take it from me - they just might come true!

(I added this post to focus52 - this week's theme is 'Hope'. Click HERE to see the other contributions.)

 

Somewhere in our house...

I finished up my run on the treadmill, stepped around the couch, flipped the square coffee table on its side to make room on the rug for my sit-ups and stretches...

...and that's when I saw this...

Well, not this exact centipede, although it did cross my mind to run upstairs and get my camera...

Instead, I came to my senses. I knew I needed to get rid of that thing. 

Stomp it? No - I remembered stomping on a big one like this a few years ago in the kitchen ("big" as in 5 or 6 inches long!) and what I mostly remember about it is how it didn't die easily and I had to keep hitting it and there were tiny legs scattered all over my kitchen floor.  

I also remembered standing in my shower stall one morning, looking up, and seeing one about the same size taking the corner of the shelf above me rather tight - he was close enough to the edge that, well, I could see him!

Fastest shower I ever took, needless to say.

Anyway, with those memories flashing in my brain like neon signs, I ran into the laundry room where I knew we had a glass jar stored for catching bugs.

Well, I thought we had one in there. I couldn't find it. So I grabbed a really pretty red decorative can, dumped the two dozen ear plug packs it held onto the washing machine, and ran back to the rug, ready to scoop the sucker up, not caring that my pretty red can would now have centipede germs in it.

It was gone.

In retrospect, I should have stomped it when I had the chance, tiny-leg messes be damned.

I spent about ten minutes looking under the rug, under the shelves - I even using a long wooden back scratcher to reach under things. No luck.

So I called Tom. Not just to dump responsibility on him (that was part of it) but to warn him of its presence in case I forgot later.

Yes, my memory is that bad.

Now, hours later, we've both searched the room to no avail...

So that means...

...somewhere in our house...

Life and Death - a Cycle of Celebration

Tiny almond-shaped eyes - chocolate drops full of innocence, ignorant of the violence that brought us all together - peered at me over her mother's shoulder.

She wore a yellow romper and sky blue bonnet, such a contrast to the black and white donned by the rest of us who formed a circle of love and support to a grieving mother, father, sister, brothers...

Black and white. Bad and good. Death and life. Sadness, happiness. 

Yellow and blue, colors of springtime, of rebirth, echoed in the sprays of flowers edging the site, and the flowers plucked from the stands and tossed onto the casket.

We had seen a short blurb on the Sunday evening news about the stabbing that left two dead over the weekend in Austin. A gathering of friends to remember the third-year anniversary of the death of one man's mother, an argument, a drawn knife, two dead, several wounded. So tragic, so sad, but soon forgotten in the rush of our lives.

It was several days before Tom learned via email that one of the victims was the little brother of a friend, a former co-worker at a small engineering company, where the employees became like family and stayed in touch over the years.

She was the big sister of six little brothers, a surrogate mom as the family followed her to the Austin area. Tue was the youngest, still her baby brother at 28.

His funeral Saturday morning was one of the most beautiful I've ever witnessed - a full Catholic Mass, all in Vietnamese. Thanks to the unity and consistency of the Catholic Mass tradition, we could still follow along, understanding with our hearts if not our ears.

We filed to Communion along either side of his casket, and it struck me how appropriate it was, a reminder of the life after death we all profess to believe, a reminder of the communion of saints.

After the service, we joined in the procession to the cemetery, where I spotted Miss Innocence dressed in Springtime. I also noticed a young boy, probably about 4 or 5, and I knew Tue's sister, mother, father and other friends and family who watched him grow must be remembering him at that age, when the thought that he could be taken from them by such senseless violence years later was unfathomable.

Nothing is lost by peace; everything may be lost by war. ~ Pius Xll

They probably already knew the truth of this statement better than most, those who escaped war-torn Vietnam in hopes of a peaceful life for their family.

I couldn't understand the words spoken at the grave site, but I understood the gestures, the faces contorted in sorrow, the wails of his mother that touched my mother's heart and brought tears to my eyes for her pain and loss. Tue was just a few years older than my oldest son.

One brother hobbled on crutches, injured while trying to break up the fight to protect his little brother. Tue was also about the same age my brother Buster was when he became a victim of a violent act, only his was a gunshot. Buster didn't die right away; he spent several years as a quadriplegic before we lost him.

I still feel that loss, and my sister's heart wept for Tue's sister and brothers. 

After the service, we joined Tue's friends and family at a luncheon. The need to join with others, remember, laugh, celebrate transcends religions and cultures. We spoke to Tue's family and friends, including one who was there that night ... the night two of his friends were killed. 

Please keep them all in your prayers.

Tom dropped me off later at a restaurant just a few miles down the highway for a birthday lunch with dear friends. Despite being stuffed from delicious eggrolls, crab soup and shrimp salad, I savored the meal I shared with them and our Mexican Martini toast.

After a morning of such forceful reminders of life's fragility and uncertainty, their faces and the sound of their laughter felt more precious to me than ever.

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. Love leaves a memory no one can steal.

~ a headstone in Ireland

 

 

Wining and Dining, Texas Style (my birthday part 2 - and my Friday/Saturday Favorite Photos)

Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity.  ~Voltaire

 

Texas has a lot of vineyards and wineries. I bet some of you didn't know that! We noticed one outside of Wimberley named Driftwood and decided to drop in on our way to the Salt Lick.

When I say "we" I mean  "me". Tom doesn't care for wine, but hey, it was my birthday!

And it was also Rachel's birthday! Her 21st! She was there with her parents. So of course we had to have a picture together. 

 

(My hair doesn't look too bad, does it, considering it was just released from a zipline helmet and it was at least 120 degrees in that room? Thank you, Michael!)

(This is what Tom wants for his birthday.)

Driftwood is actually a little town... the location of The Salt Lick Bar-b-que (the original). I had never been to the Salt Lick, although it seemed everyone else had been, so I used my birthday as an excuse to get Tom to take me. I was so tired of hearing everyone else rave about it!

(Tom wasn't waiting on me to finish snapping pics - he was hungry!)

Let me tell you... it lived up to it's reputation.

And let me tell you something else... Wednesday afternoons at 4pm is the time to go. No one else is there. From what I've heard, if you go on a weekend, expect to wait in a long line!

But I understand why now - it's divine!

Tom's brisket is this good or better, which is saying a lot because this was damn-good, but Salt Lick's ribs, turkey, sausage were melt-in-your-mouth delicious, and the potato salad and cole slaw were the best I've ever eaten. 

(Sorry, Mama.)

 

 (This lasted me two days - Wednesday's dinner and Thursday's lunch - yum!)

The oak trees and picnic tables called to me, so we tarried a little outside, and guess what? We discovered a winery next door...

Since I was hitting legendery Austin places, how could I not stop at Poodie's Hilltop Bar & Grill when I spotted it on our way home? Poodie Locke was Willie Nelson's stage manager for three decades - he ran the bar on the side ... it's one of those unpresuming spots where big names drop in unannounced.

Very unpresuming.

We didn't recognize anyone famous, so we took our drinks outside to a deck overlooking the western horizon, imagining how beautiful the sunset must be from that vantage, and wondering about Peggy... 

A long drive home, through Marble Falls, along twisty, turning hill country roads faced us, so we didn't wait around for sunset on the deck. 

We made it home just at twilight, in time for a quick walk with the dogs.

And then, another surprise from Tom... a beautiful card and cheesecake! 

Now that's the way to welcome 52.

 Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been. – Mark Twain

 

P.S. Update on my sister - she's much better and was released from the hospital this afternoon. She's weak and still on antibiotics, but able to eat again. Yay! Thank you for your prayers and please keep them coming! There's still that hip surgery she needs to recover from... !

Zippity-Do-Dah (my birthday, part 1)

I wanted to be Tarzan when I was little.

I'd sit in the livingroom on Saturday afternoons watching Johnny Weismuller swing from tree to tree on those vines, and then poof! I was in that jungle myself, way up in a tree, grabbing hold of a vine and swinging high above the ground to the next limb. A green blur surrounded me and the wind whistled in my ear...

And then there were the dreams of flying through my neighborhood - not too high, not too fast, just soaring above the treetops.

Well, imagine a combination of the two, and that's what riding the zipline felt like to me yesterday; there was that stepping off into nothing feeling and that swinging feeling (holding onto a lanyard instead of a vine) and that soaring feeling as I glided above the treetops.

I confess I was a little nervous at first. Thank goodness they make you zip on a practice line before they let you go hundreds of feet in the air, because I failed and had to do it again.

Sure, I looked like I knew what I was doing...

...but when it was time to brake, even though I knew I was supposed to press down flathanded on the cable behind me, I clamped down instead, gripping it, and that's a big NO-NO! If I did that up on the real zipline, going 30 mph, my arm would be ripped out and left dangling from the cable, or fall to the ground to be some coyote or vulture's dinner...

Ugh.

Lesson learned. I didn't forget again! (Classroom humiliation really works! That's also how I learned to read the word "something" in first grade, but that's another story...)

Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself...

My wonderful birthday-day started by sleeping beyond sunrise. Yes, I took the day off from work. What better reason could there be but to celebrate life, or more specifically, celebrate another year of your life? Tom took it off, too, just to make me happy.

Then there was coffee - not just any coffee, but some freshly brewed Texas Pecan that my friend Bo sent me. It was leftover from their coffee house that unfortunately couldn't compete with a nearby Starbucks. I was so bummed when I heard it was closing before I even had a chance to visit, so he offered a bit of his leftover "stock" - coincidentally, it arrived just before my birthday!

While I fed the dogs and sipped on my cup of Texas Pecan on the back deck, Tom whipped up a delicious heart-attack breakfast of fried eggs and sausage. Yum!

Thus fortified, we headed off to to Wimberley Zipline Adventures, almost two hours away, where we were issued our helmets, harnesses, lanyards, pulleys, water bottles and "brakes" (leather gloves) and sent over to the practice line, where I failed. 

Okay, I'm all caught up.

After we all (finally) passed the practice zipline, we piled into four-wheel drive trucks for a trip up the hill. Then on foot we climbed and climbed and climbed up to the first platform. You start at the highest spot, of course, then criss-cross the valley/ravine along 8 different lines almost to the bottom.

In between, our guide Andrew filled us in on local history and information on native plants that we didn't know (his great-grandfather was Buck Winn, an artist who bought the property back in the 1930's and pretty much established Wimberley as an artist colony.) 

I'll explain the rest through photos...

This is taking off (it isn't me, but you get the idea.)

This is me...

Notice the look of concentration as I press the cable flat-handed... "Don't grip! Don't grip!"

Ah, good job, Barbara.

Tom's turn. He's a natural. (show-off!)

He was coming in fast!

We had to take a few posed shots...

Just some random shots to give you an idea of what the heck we were doing!

Look, I'm smiling now! Nothin' to it...

This is FUN!

One of our great guides, Andrew (all of them were wonderful and made it a lot of fun!)

So guess what we did next?

The answer and more tomorrow in "Birthday, Part 2"!

(thanks to my friend Debbie for the idea of "Zippity" in the title, by the way!)

Hello 52!

Today is my birthday. Can you guess how old I am?

Yep, that's right. All of them. 

The great thing about getting older is you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been.

– Madeleine L’Engle

Isn't it funny how you stay pretty much the same on the inside while the outside changes so much? 

Today Tom and I are off adventuring while we can...

...that outside part can be tricky and you never know when it's going to put the brakes on things you take for granted, much less adventures you dream about.

It helps to remember this quote:

Dreams are renewable.

No matter what our age or condition,

there are still untapped possibilities with us and new beauty waiting to be born.

~Dale Turner

One thing's for certain... I am so very grateful for each day I've been given, for my friends, family and every little experience. Even the "bad days" have given me something.

When I look back on my life I realize what a miracle it is that I'm still here, typing these words. God must have something else in store for me, some other use for me. 

Ah, mystery and adventure ... I love it! And that's what life really is, isn't it, just one big mysterious adventure?

Happy "my birthday" to you!

Going Greek and Meeting Bacon

As a college drop-out, I had no personal experience with sororities - just my fraternity of chemical plant technicians ... a fraternity of hardhats and steel-toed boots, you could say.

So I confess to a case of the jitters this past Friday night as I headed downtown for a Wine and Cheese Social. I would be meeting other moms with daughters in TG's sorority. I had worried over what to wear... jeans or dress slacks? What does "modern casual" mean, anyway? I opted for nice jeans and heels, with a dressy blouse and more jewelry than I normally wear. But I just knew I'd stick out, that my social deficiencies would be obvious.

With relief, I noticed I hit the halfway mark between the most dressy and the most casual. And I believe I blended in with the rest of them quite well. I met some of TG's friends and their moms, then she and I drifted out by the pool and had a good chat, all by ourselves. That was the best part.

She's a doll. A smart one.

I'm a lucky mom.

That was Friday night, just the beginning of a Mom/Daughter Weekend...

The next morning, after coffee and danishes in the sorority house, and a fun non-buying shopping excursion at the Domain, we nabbed Daniel from his apartment and headed to downtown Austin. In a Living Social-newbie frenzy back at Christmas, I had bought three half-price meals at Mongolian Grille ("$20 worth of food for $10"!), and they were about to expire.  We couldn't let that happen...

We ate our money's worth for sure, but I think we walked it off afterwards. First we headed in the direction of an Art Festival we'd heard about, but made a U-turn at the $8 per person entry price. Instead, we meandered through downtown, finding plenty of free art and interesting things to see everywhere we looked.

Santa, for instance...

Wall art...

 

Our feet (reflected)...

(Note to self: even out your britches before snapping next time.)

 

A herd of segway tourists...

 

And Bacon...

I'm so glad TG spotted her! I walked right on past, oblivious. But at the mention of a baby pig, I hurried back, introduced myself to Matthew (Bacon's daddy), snapped a zillion photos, asked a half-zillion questions (she's one month old; she'll only get a few inches bigger; when she needs to go potty, she lets him know by pulling on a rope attached to a bell with her mouth ... and she's only a month old!)

...and then begged to hold that sweet baby pig. Matthew's friend offered to take some photos...

Isn't she precious?

Tempting. Very tempting.

I reluctantly handed Bacon back to Matthew and we finished up our walk and dropped Daniel back home. The Mom/Daughter weekend finished up at a boutique, where we munched on quesadillas and taquitos from a nearby restaurant while ogling clothes we couldn't afford, which was actually fun because few of the others bought anything, either. And we got goody bags. Goody bags make everything fun, but then, it was fun just hanging out with TG a little longer.

I made it home in time to watch a movie with Tom - Stone of Destiny, which apparently got a Rotten Tomato award, but I liked it. It's based on a true story, I think more than most "based on a true story" movies are.

Sunday was a 'try to catch up' day, but we managed to squeeze in a game of ping-pong. I let Tom beat me this time - just so he won't get tired of playing, of course.

(Not really. Now I feel guilty. He beat me fair and square. I'll get him next time...)

I hope you had a wonderful weekend, too!

P.S. Please continue to keep my sister Brenda in your prayers as she recovers from her hip surgery, as well as my parents who are caring for her. She's already had to battle a stomach virus and now she's back in the hospital with a bladder infection. Thank you in advance!

 

Indie Friendlie

If you're interested in film - especially independent film - pay attention...

One of my creative friends, Byron Tully, is part of a new project,"Indie Friendlie", a weekly television program "created to give independent filmmakers an outlet for their work to be seen and for the public to learn about them", according to the website, http://indiefriendlie.com/.

The show is for those filmmakers who work on a shoestring without the benefit of an advertising budget or marketing campaign - it's an opportunity to give them the publicity they need and expose the rest of us to talent we wouldn't otherwise know about.

Tully and his Indie Friendlie partner, Weatherford Bradley, both have years of experience in the film industry and are using that experience now to help other creative filmmakers. 

The show will begin airing on May 1 in a very limited area. Go to the website to find out where and how you might be able to see it wherever you are. (Click HERE.)

While they've shot several episodes, they're at the tough part: fund raising for post production - all the editing, graphics, and music to polish them up for broadcast.

If you feel this is something you can help with, take a look at their Kickstarter page to find out how. (Click HERE.)

Here's a short video with more information... 

 

Indie Friendlie Promo from Indie Friendlie on Vimeo.

Way to go, Tully! Good luck!!

Belle, The Circus Dog (Favorite Friday Photos)

I've mentioned before how acrobatic my little Belle is, that I thought she must be descended from circus dogs... 

Now I believe it more than ever! 

Would you believe she has learned to stand and walk just on her hands, er, front paws?

(Where's Ellen's number?)

Nah, not really. It's April Fool's Day, remember? This is the best I could come up with. It's a real, untouched photo alright, but this is just the goofy way she runs... I keep expecting her to flip all the way over!

But the focus52 prompt this week is "silly" and right away I thought of my sweet, silly Belle, who bounds like Tigger when she runs, who makes me laugh every day, who radiates joy with every fiber of her being. 

She loves dirt the way Max loves water!

She might just be the goofiest dog I've ever owned - and that's saying a lot!

One thing's for sure... it's a dog's life around here...

But I don't mind.

In honor of April's Fool's Day, here are a few of my favorite 'fool' quotes...

A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool. ~ William Shakespeare

He who hesitates is a damned fool. ~ Mae West

Showing off is the fool's idea of glory. ~ Bruce Lee

The wise man does at once what the fool does finally. ~ Niccolo Machiavelli

Any fool can make a rule, and any fool will mind it. ~ Henry David Thoreau

Happy April Fool's Day!