Tuesday, March 29, 2011

not by a long shot

This is okay:

I mean, cute dog, cute cat... What's not to love, right?

This, however.
This is most definitely NOT okay:

Yes, that's my name on the address label. Not "Dear Neighbor" or "Our Dear Friend at..."

I will say this, though: at least they're offering that puzzles & games booklet to help keep my mind sharp.

Now where did I put those damn dentures?

Monday, March 28, 2011

iTunes Songs for Japan

What a cool way to add 38 songs to your iTunes library and donate to the earthquake relief at the same time! The ten bucks you pay for this collection goes straight to the Japanese Red Cross.

Good job, iTunes. Mine's downloaded already.


Monday, March 21, 2011

not without a fight

Today is the first full day of Spring, and I'd be doing my Snoopy dance at this very moment if I hadn't looked out my window this morning and seen this:

I think Winter has decided it's worth dying on this hill. I know, I know. I need to lighten up, or, Erleichda, as Tom Robbins might advise. And I can always remind myself that at least it's not as cold as it was one morning in the heart of winter, when I woke up before dawn to drive down the road and visit my favorite tree.

Friday, March 18, 2011

pre-spring free verse-y blog post

Wake up to a quiet house, temporarily kidless, and itching to clean and organize - not unlike pregnancy nesting, but a spring thing this time. Start in the kitchen, then add other rooms until there's a harmony and a rhythm working. But what am I doing, I think. It's gorgeous outside! And so Lizzie the Cowdog and I take the show out there where the horses watch, needing their own spring cleaning (shelter mucked, winter coats stripped, water tank scoured, and on and on). The Pink Trailer calls, and so I answer. Throw open the door and behold an eternity's worth of stuff needing to be dealt with, some of it hard - the rocking pony from daughter's toddler years, boxes of old divorce documents and lots of stuff probably best Goodwilled, but I have a hard time letting go sometimes. (The rocking horse stays. Period.) Hours pass, and they looked like this: me hauling the Rubbermaided (Rubbermaidened?) evidence of years already lived from the trailer to the woodshed; me going through the drawers and cupboards and closet of the trailer, seeing what's there (old coffee perkpot, old laundry clips, old flatware, all of it charming) and dreaming of camping trips at nearby lakes this summer, checking out the tires, eyeballing the ancient suspension, more formless pondering. Scrub the trailer's innards then stand back, pleased. Trees need attention next (from whence this energy?) - the liquidambar and the quaking aspen planted last fall, plus the live spruce from Christmas, still babies all. Settle the spruce into its new hole (chicken wire-lined against our looky-loo prairie dog neighbors). The hose is dragged out next so all can get a deep, late-winter watering, even though it doesn't feel like winter anymore the way I'm sweating. Aiming the hose at new roots I look up startled by sound of an eagle's cry overhead. Turns out there are two of them - adult bald eagles - swooping and swirling in the sky above my house, either courting or battling in a falling spiral, but whatever it is it's extraordinary, an extraordinary gift. Even Lizzie the Cowdog stares up at them, head cocked, ears up. We're frozen at the sight, and as I stand there with sweat on my back and my hands covered in water and dirt I realize that a) we're done for the day, and b) we're just getting started.

Tuesday, March 08, 2011

for girls only

So, a girlfriend and I were talking about That Time of the Month Which Shall Remain Nameless (TTOTMWSRN) and how we know every month, without fail, when it's approaching.

Is it when we offer to remove the grocery store bagger's face for putting the bananas in the same bag as the paper towels?

Is it when the sight of an empty email inbox makes us go back to bed and weep for an hour straight?

Or do we know TTOTMWSRN is imminent when we find ourselves (note how I deftly hide my identity by using the collective "we") standing in front of the microwave with a wooden spoon full of brownie batter in one hand while waiting for our salty, salty microwave popcorn to finish popping?

Men, I tried to warn you.

Wednesday, March 02, 2011


It's what Get Low is about.

And, can I just say, movies like this - stories like this - are the reason I keep writing. They're the reason I still try.

Of course, it never hurts when Robert Duvall is the leading man.