No one in the family gets away with just one name. The furry ones in particular are addressed by an assortment of monikers. Our elder dog, Zoey, is also known as the Orange Roughy, Speed Bump, Zoey Pigza, and the Pig.
Our younger dog came to the family with the name Emma and quickly became Emma Jean, then Emma Jean-Jean, and frequently just Jean.
In fact, I often greet my smiling friend with “Hi, Jean.” Then I pause. “Or should I say, Oral.”
Emma finds me very witty. I swear.
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.
~ Rabindranath Tagore
Reminder to self
not all orange is grotesque
like the spray-tanned Tr*mp
Today we mourn the loss of Aretha Franklin. I am grateful for the many hours spent listening, singing along with and dancing to her music. She was an extraordinary artist (and I’m just now learning about her social justice work including a willingness to post bail for Angela Davis). I am the farthest thing from a religious person, but this version of Marvin Gaye’s Wholy Holy gives me goosebumps. Every single time.
Do yourself a favor and spend your next five minutes with the Queen of Soul.
Rest in power, Aretha.
Today I met a friend at the Denver Botanic Gardens. She has a membership and treated me (for the umpteenth time) to a guest pass. Here’s one of the dazzling flower and plant displays at the entrance:
There were many plants I recognized and many more I did not. For instance, what is this?
In my photo file I labeled it “Poky Plant,” but I’m nearly 100% sure that’s not the right name.
Then there’s the Dragon Arum otherwise known as Dracunculus vulgaris. When I showed this photo to Zebu he said the exact same thing my friend had remarked: “Dracunculus vulgaris is a Harry Potter spell.”
It was a lovely couple hours at the gardens and now I’m back home in front of my computer, getting psyched up to tackle my revisions.
May my thoughts stay still longer than the water spiders in that last photo.
It’s a new week and I’m in fake-it-’til-I-make-it mode. There are seriously messed up things happening on the planet and my gut instinct is to stay in bed reading books and eating toast for the rest of my life. But that’s exactly what all the horrible people out there wreaking havoc right now want; they’re counting on wearing us down so that we start averting our gaze.
Nope. Books and toast are good, but constant vigilance is essential.
Today I’m gonna make like a prairie dog . . . and keep fighting the good fight.
I am a pale white woman who never, ever wears yellow because that color washes me out and makes me look dead. Sunflowers, on the other hand, wear their yellow quite nicely.
Motto: No yellow in my closet, but plenty in my garden.
Last night Zippy and I went to the Bluebird Theater in Denver to hear Parker Millsap. Same as the last time he was in town, Parker put on one helluva show. Unfortunately, also the same as last time there were a bunch of rude people at the general admission/standing venue. So much talking talking talking during the performance. Last year after suffering through two women having a loud conversation in front of us I eventually pointed out that since they weren’t interested in listening and we were that maybe they could switch positions with us. They did, and happily moved their socializing well behind us so we could focus on the singing/songwriting.
Last night it was two men talking in loud voices behind us. When I went over to tell them I couldn’t hear it was incredibly frustrating/rage-inducing to realize that one of the blabbermouths was from the opening act. (In fact, two members of that act were loud and disruptive during the main event). You’d think, that of all people, performers would fully understand proper audience etiquette.
Fungal tiki hut
sprouting from the landscape rocks
shelter for insects
I’m trying to make work that is reflective and is encouraging of reflection.
~ Antony Gormley
This could’ve been a truly awesome photo. Imagine a large white cat stretched out on the backside of the hanging shirts, staring through the multi-colored plastic hangers with yellow-green eyes. Imagine a self-satisfied expression on that white cat’s face as you struggled to understand how he got there. Imagine being frozen in place as he stared you down.
By the time I snapped out of my Marcel-induced reverie and returned with my camera, this was all I got. In fact, this subpar photo was staged. Marcel had already extricated himself from the hangers and jumped down before I could get a shot so Zippy picked him up and put him back on the dresser. (Confession: I was hoping he’d jam Marcel back through the hangers, but apparently my mate and I have different cat-wrangling sensibilities.)
Loki, true to form, remained chill throughout the activities.
I’m afraid of heights and frequently have dreams in which I’m waaay too far from the ground. My fear is a known quantity in my household. So when I announced before leaving for Crested Butte a couple weeks ago that I was going to ride the ski-lift, Zebu’s response was a skeptical/worried “Really?”
Then I arrived and watched the lift from our rental balcony. My heart picked up the pace and my chest got tight. Zippy suggested we check it out and then I could decide, assuring me it was okay to back out. We walked to the lift-line filled with people in helmets, body armor, and mountain bikes. Turns out Wednesday evenings allow unlimited lifts up the mountain for bikers wanting to ride the trails to the bottom. I was in line next to little girls not only brave enough to ride the chair lift but to bomb down the mountain on bikes! Those two young sisters listened politely as their dad reassured this grown-ass woman I’d be fine on the lift.
And I was.
On the ride down the mountain (which was much easier and more relaxing for me, to the extent I released my death grips on the lap bar and Zippy’s shirt), we passed the biker girls and their dad riding up the mountain again. We all waved and one of the girls shouted, “Enjoy your ride!”
Thanks in no small part to their example. Girl power!
I laughed and nodded my head throughout this movie that absolutely nails where we are as a country (and have been for some time). The acting is superb, the visuals are amazing, and the music is a perfect fit. Best of all, I left the theater feeling like there’s hope for us after all. SORRY TO BOTHER YOU shows us how it can be done.
One patty pan squash
four mustard green leaves eaten
mate’s garden harvest.
Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today.
~ Will Rogers
Basketball is good for Zebu’s soul and very hard on his knees. (He applied the ice pack to his head after three hours in the ER.) We’re off to the orthopedic clinic tomorrow to ascertain the damage.
Just knowing you don’t have the answers is a recipe for humility, openness, acceptance, forgiveness, and an eagerness to learn – and those are all good things.
~ Dick Van Dyke
while hiking ten miles of trail
Popping online quickly to express my gratitude for the natural world. Today’s image is the Elk Range as seen from Crested Butte, Colorado.
It’s a spectacular planet, wouldn’t you say?
Zippy and I are “supposed” to be leaving in 45 minutes for a trip to the mountains and I’m only partially packed. I’m a creature of habit and the possibility of not having something I need causes me stress. Believe me: that truth doesn’t do me proud.
But in order to be in the beautiful mountains I need to really and truly finish packing. I just hope I don’t end up with tassel loafers instead of my hiking shoes. Wish me luck.
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
~ William Blake
I was at my front window doing quad stretches this morning when I realized I wasn’t alone. One of the many neighborhood bunnies was hunkered down in the vinca, showing an utter lack of concern for my presence.
Goal for today: no matter what arises I’ll try to maintain a chill bunny vibe.