November 30, 2007

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It’s raging rain out here today. Good. We need it. On our way last week up to the deep dark middle of nowhere, we drove past just a portion of the fire devastation in Rancho Bernardo. I mean, it was right alongside the freeway — at one point, had obviously jumped the freeway. Nothing but char just yards away as we whizzed by. Black earth completely surrounding a random untouched house. Vast sections of rolling hillside orange groves burnt to a sad dead russet color.

But today, the earth gets refreshed and renewed and I feel the same way.

I’m always happy to hear rain; it’s my favorite type of weather. Stormy, blustery greyness that allows you to be grouchy if you need to be. Grey grace, I guess. It’s just my thing. When it rains, I feel understood. Why I loved Seattle so. But today, even more — even though I’m listening to the annoying ching-ching-chingling of the neighbor’s windchimes — I’m grateful for that sound, for all the raging rainy sounds.

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Jayne has written a beautiful, touching post. Go read. And seriously, take tissue.

November 29, 2007

-image-ohplease, ohplease, ohpleeease!

An old photo of my dark, adorable Beloved, his cute strawberry blondie brother, and their new Samoyed puppies. Honestly, I cannot even BEAR the level of cuteness that is going on here. MB sitting so composed, hands carefully cuddling his sleepy little puppy. Meanwhile, Little Brother in Boots with his stray blonde curl, struggling a bit with his puppy. I stared at this photo for, like, 5700 hours last week at the in-laws’ house and I don’t foresee a time when I will ever stop staring at it now. It consumes me. Their faces, their blue eyes — one pair deep blue with long dark lashes, the other pair paler and glowing bright. Their eyes are exactly the same today. And their red apple cheeks! I’m sorry — it just chokes me up with such joy!! I wanna smush them and never ever stop.
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Also, it seems only fitting right now to link to this post from a year ago. Who knew little MB would grow up to be so so bitchen??

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I’m gonna try to fight my shyness and start posting little projects I’m working on here and there.

To that end, here’s Joy, my first attempt at a patchwork mixed media collage AND painting faces. I worked on her last week up in the deep dark middle of nowhere. I’m not sure if she’s finished, because, uhm, she’s got some seam problems — stabbing her eye and cutting her head off and whatnot. Sorry, Joy. That’s what I get for using weird weight papers and thinking I was oh-so-clever. And actually, I don’t think I can fix that, so you’ll just have to develop some character and inner strength to deal with your imperfections, ‘mkay?

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November 28, 2007

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Things heard, said, or done in the deep dark middle of nowhere or on the surrounding highways and bi-ways:

“They were having a fire sale, so I got a bunch of brand new bras and underpants! Everything that was going south just got a huge HUGE lift!” (65-year-old woman friend making my FIL’s eyes pop out.)

***

“What are you watching?”
“America’s Next Top Model.”
“Oh. That sounds stupid.”

***

“Is she going to be OKAY???”
(Little girl’s voice piping up from the dark theatre during the movie “Enchanted”)

***

“What is this obsession that women of a certain age have with jewel tones??”

“I don’t know.”

“If I ever start wearing nothing but jewel tones, I want you to kick me in the anus.”

***

“I’m annoyed with Jesus right now.”

“Just now? You just decided this?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Well, think of how easily he made friends. I mean, you go up to some dudes — while they’re busy working even — and say, ‘Come with me and I’ll make you fishers of men’ and that actually works?? Everyone just drops what they’re doing and goes with you??

“So you’re mad because you think he must have used some divine mojo or something?”

“Yes. I mean, I couldn’t go up to a group of women and use that same line. I could, but they’d think I’m nutso. Rightly so. I believe he was God incarnate, and clearly, in this situation, he was using a little extra somethin’ that I don’t have. So, yeah, I’m annoyed.”

“Because you think he took a shortcut? Cheated by the power of the Holy Spirit??”

“I kinda do. I mean, did he say, ‘Uhm, hi. I’m Jesus. Would you like to hang out, go for a bowl of olives?’ Did he join a book club? A bowling league? A carpenter’s union? Do any of the other things we non-God-incarnate people have to do? No. He’s a total stranger and he uses that line and it works and it’s weird!!”

After this, I think the conversation just devolved into devising other ridiculous ways Jesus could have made friends. What can I say? It’s a 7-hour drive. The mind wanders and degrades.

For instance, I started this game ……

~ “Okay. Howie Mandel has a case with a million bucks in it. We can have it, but you have a decision to make and it’s this: For a million bucks, would you decide to have my boobs become magically smaller? For A MILLION BUCKS now.”

“No.”

“You’re not even asking me what size?”

“Okay. What size?”

“Uhm, okay. A B-cup.” (I have large boobins, people. I think B-cups are lovely. I do. I actually never understand women who want theirs bigger.)

“No.”

“For a million bucks??”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“All right. My question: For a million bucks, would you decide to have me become magically shorter?”

“How short?”

“6-1” (He’s 6-4.)

“Well, okay. For a million bucks. I mean, you’re tall; you’ve got some wiggle room. 6-1 isn’t short.

“It is to me.”

“Oh, boo hoo. Okay. Same deal. Million bucks. You HAVE to choose. B-cup or brown eyes?” (My eyes are blue, so I just picked brown eyes. I love brown eyes. This game isn’t about that. It’s about something else. I have no idea what.)

“Okay. B-cup. Your eyes are too much of who you are to me. It would be weird. You would seem completely different. Would you change my eye color for a million bucks?”

“No.”

“All right. Million bucks. But I will have a HUGE afro for the rest of our natural lives.”

“Can you shave it and grow back your real hair?

“NO! That will be my real hair.”

“Uhm, no. Okay. A million bucks but I have size 11 feet.”

“What size is that in men’s shoes?”

“What difference does that make? It’s big.”

“It will help me to gauge it.”

“Uhm, I think it’s 13 in men’s? I don’t know.”

“Oh. No. No way. I don’t want my wife to have flipper feet.”

This went on for a long long while …. with each of us transforming ourselves, mutilating ourselves for a million bucks … or not …. giving ourselves Tourette’s or the inability to ever stop picking our nose …. even in public ….. or when we’re asleep … you know ……

Try the “For a Million Bucks” game next time you’re trapped in a car for an eternity!! S’fun!!

Alternatively, play, “What is Wrong with your Mother?”

I’d stick with the million bucks game, tho’, if I were you.

November 27, 2007

-image-sunday afternoon, high sierra valley

(My cellphone always takes such dark pictures — drat!)

Anyhoo.

A pond near my in-laws’ house.
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I liked the etching from the ducks gliding across the pond.
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I wish you could see this place in person. Its stark late fall beauty always gets me. Mountains, white, pine, slate. Valleys, gold, brown, sage, russet, pink. Ponds, creeks everywhere. Even in people’s front yards. This place gets a hook in your heart, that’s for sure.

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We’re back. Late yesterday.

Uhm, was that the longest holiday ever or was it just me??

November 21, 2007

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Well, peeps, we’re hitting the high desolate roadways today. I’ll be incommunicado over the holiday.

I want to say how thankful I am for all of you — for your readership, support, humor, everything! I don’t say it often enough — and shame on me — but you guys are the best. Thank you for choosing to spend a piece of your day hanging around here! 😉

I wish you all the happiest, coziest, warmest of Thanksgivings!!

November 20, 2007

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Marisa has a post up about her Top 5 Thansgiving movies. It’s funny she posted this, because I was just thinking the other day how there just aren’t too many Thanksgiving movies and we need more of ’em! Anyway, go check out her picks and add your own.

-image-well, I know it’s sweeps month

But everyone’s so busy, running around, defrosting turkeys, baking pies, cleaning the outhouse for gammie’s visit, that who has time for ORIGINAL content? Not me, that’s who. That outhouse ain’t gonna clean itself and gammie is perrticular.

So, I scrounged around the dusty archives to dig up this holiday — well, I hesitate to say “favorite” — let’s say it’s more of a tradition at this point. I think I rerun this every Thanksgiving.

Because nothing spells gratitude more than a big ol oozing OBLI.

And if you don’t know what that is, well, then, you need to read the post.

Brace yourselves for the horror.

Oh, and when you’re done with that one, there’s this one.

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