Coco and Zoey in 2009.
Saved from a shelter
eleven years together
Hole in Zoey’s heart.
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Friday Haiku
Uncategorized
Coco, RIP
Joined the family August 18, 2005
Said goodbye November 17, 2016
You came to us as Cocoa, and Wildebeest changed that to Coco.
Over the years you were our Coco Sue, Susan, and Speckled Snake Dog.
No matter the name, you were always our funny friend
with the big eyes and catfish whiskers.
You could run faster and see farther than anyone,
and now you can do that forevermore.
Plus eat all the poop you want.
Rest in peace, Coco Sue.
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Co-sign
What a waste it is to lose one’s mind.
Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful.
How true that is.
~ Dan Quayle
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Don’t fear resistance
I received texts from family and friends after the election, asking how I was coping with the world’s new Agent Orange reality. I replied, in part, that there was still hope for the future if, out of this debacle, the Democratic party reassessed and became a true party of resistance.
And while the establishment Dems who pushed so hard for a Clinton candidacy are still deeply in denial regarding last week’s beat-down, there are glimmers of hope. People on my Twitter feed who have never, to my knowledge, tweeted anything remotely political or activist, are now engaged in the democratic process. They’re calling their representatives. They’re adding those representatives’ phone numbers to their contact lists. They’re writing letters, signing petitions, and asking others to do the same.
They’re taking to the streets and pushing back.
We have Donald Trump’s ugly authoritarian character to thank for that, and while that might not feel like much right now, it’s a legitimate silver lining.
Image found on Morguefile.com without any identifying info, so if you’re fortunate enough to happen upon this sculpture, please let me know where it is.
The strength and power of despotism consists wholly in the fear of resistance. ~ Thomas Paine
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Wings of a dove
Imprint after Mourning Dove hit the window (click to enlarge). Never saw the bird after that, so I believe it recovered and flew away. We have since applied window alert stickers to prevent further collisions.
For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.
~ Leonardo da Vinci
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Leon Russell, RIP
Leon Russell went to the big piano bench in the sky last night. When Zippy told me the news, I felt deflated. But I didn’t realize how hard his death had hit me until I put on “A Song for You.” I couldn’t finish listening because the grief was too intense.
Leon Russell was a singer-songwriter who created music I was ALWAYS thrilled to hear whether it came on the radio, popped up on an iPod shuffle, or was background music in a shopping mall. I never wanted to tune him out. Leon Russell’s music made me smile, made me feel, and inspired me to sing along. His voice was unusual, his phrasing could trip me up, and his piano playing made me want to dance.
These two albums reside in my record cabinet. I don’t remember when I bought the Best Of, but have a very clear memory of buying Looking Back. I’d spent the day at the beach and was in the neighborhood supermarket in West Los Angeles when I passed a bin of deeply discounted albums. (I remembered this being a cut-out, but when I pulled it out of my cabinet just now, I was surprised to see there are no notches in the cardboard). This particular Leon Russell record was being sold for about $2, and I snatched it up. Any Leon Russell is great Leon Russell, right? He could sing the phone book and I’d listen.
Well, I got home and discovered that Looking Back was purely instrumental. Leon didn’t even sing! Not only that, Leon didn’t play the piano! On Looking Back, Leon played the harpsichord!
I have to admit I didn’t listen to that album a whole lot over the years (and I doubt any radio stations ever played cuts from it), but I’m still glad I bought it. That record represents an enduring memory from my time in LA. Also? It’s fun to think of Leon now playing in that super-band in the sky, shredding on his harpsichord while Leonard Cohen plays piano.
Thank you for all the music, Leon.
Rest in peace.
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Like having a dream
For me, writing a novel is like having a dream.
Writing a novel lets me intentionally dream while I’m still awake.
I can continue yesterday’s dream today,
something you can’t normally do in everyday life.
~ Haruki Murakami
Writing a novel is a pretty cool gig, all right. Except for when the process turns nightmarish. Other than that, though, it’s a dream. Really.
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Friday Haiku
Trump don’t own orange.
See the beauty everywhere,
that way fear can’t win.
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A white male millennial response
My 20-year-old son (known here as Zebu), is studying in Sweden this year. He’s been there since the middle of August and has found much to like and admire about that country and other places he’s visited in Europe.
Today we had a lengthy text exchange. My opening message was to ask if he’d already found a Swedish girl to marry so he could remain there rather than coming home to Agent Orange (aka Trump).
Here’s his reply:
Many people have asked if I’m just gonna stay in Europe, admittedly they ask jokingly, but I really thought about that. I feel like it’s almost a requirement that not only I come back but I spend a lot of time fighting back and doing real work. As a white male, my life changes very little. But a lot of people just had their agency put in danger. That’s bullshit for me to leave at this time and allow a steamroll of those who don’t have a soapbox.
I’m not surprised by his attitude. I am, however, very proud to be his mother.
The ever-thinking Zebu playing chess. June 2016
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Wordless Wednesday: the last night edition*
* and no, I didn’t drink all that last night. I’m no Lucille Bluth. C’mon!
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Keep on keeping on
I think that the thing that we learned,
back in the day of the civil rights movement,
is that you do have to keep on keeping on.
~ Charlayne Hunter-Gault
Beauty blooming in the swamp at Kapok Park.
No matter what the outcome today,
gotta keep moving forward.
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Traveling vicariously
Just finished a two-hour Skype session with Zebu. Haven’t talked much in the last couple weeks, so he was getting us caught up on his studies and travels. He and two friends just got back this morning from a trip to Oslo. Their favorite experience was at a sculpture park, Vigelandsparken.
Sculpture by Gustav Vigeland
He shared photos he’d taken, and this is one of the sculptures he’d especially liked. I found this image online, and posting it here helps me feel even more connected to my faraway son.
His travel is broadening all our horizons.
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Many wish they could fly like a bird
Not me. I’d be perfectly satisfied sitting on top of a tree, oblivious to all the stupid and ugly churning down below.
It is far better to be alone, than to be in bad company.
~ George Washington
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Forgive me, Sherlock
I’ve just started working again on a YA project that’s gone through many on-again-off-again phases. The reasons for that aren’t important (mostly because I’m not entirely sure why this project has been the biggest-mule-of-a-novel-ever.) What does matter is that I’m reminded (again) how difficult it is to bounce back from an off-again period when working on a project that is kinda, sorta a mystery. Mysteries require a precise sprinkling of clues and epiphanies, and that sprinkling would be hard enough to pull off if I’d written this book in a timely and consistent manner. As in, a day-after-day writing schedule that helped me keep ALL the details straight until this draft was finished, rather than periods of intense work followed by months of neglect.
So much unnecessary confusion.
Oy.
Sherlock’s disdain burns in my soul . . .
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Friday Haiku
Alligator at Kapok Park
Here’s a safety tip:
if a gator grabs your leg
gouge its eye sockets.
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Pity party interruptus
Last week I was in Florida and while there, I went running for the first time in a month. As a result of all those weeks off, I ran slower than usual.
When I hit the 3-mile mark, I stopped running and began my cool-down walk. Almost immediately my brain started beating me up: you’re used to running at elevation and this was running at sea level! You’re used to running up and down hills, and this was running on mostly flat! You’re slow, slow slow. Old, old, old. Sad, sad, sad.
As I walked on the path through the woods, I regretted the health issues that had prevented me running. I regretted losing the fitness level I’d worked hard to achieve. I regretted my loss of muscle, stamina, and lung power.
I admit to feeling a wee bit defeated.
Then there was a WHOOSH and SQUAWK as something dropped from the tree above and landed next to my feet: Two woodpeckers, one on the back of the other, briefly wrestled on the path before separating and flying off to different trees.
And just like that, my mood lifted. I realized I was going to be all right. I knew I’d regain my strength, just as I knew that it was a gift to be able to up and run three miles after time off. How could I not know?! I’d just witnessed the miracle of wrestling woodpeckers!!!
Sometimes the universe gets sick of our whining and drops a big ol’ SNAP OUT OF IT sign in front of us.
I’m grateful I could see past the pity party to read it.
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Wordless Wednesday: the tree-climbing turtle edition
Kapok Park, Clearwater FL
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Winner winner veggie dinner
I don’t think the goal is, ‘How big a star did you ever become?’
I think the goal is, ‘Were you able to express yourself?’
And if you’re able to say yes, in any field, you’ve won.
If you paint, write, do mosaics, knit –
if it’s solving that part of your brain saying,
‘I need to do this,’ you’ve won.
~ Albert Brooks
Guess what? Today was a win!
To be clear: I didn’t get an Emmy. I just like the look.
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Home again, home again
Just got home from week in Florida.
Not yet feeling jiggity-jig.
But give me a couple nights’ sleep in my own bed and I’ll be back in dancing form.
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Note to self
Organize your many years of family photos so that your sons won’t be left with that overwhelming task.
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Patron saint of scrapbooking
My sister left Florida to go back home after helping Mom and me make huge progress in our massive photographic undertaking. I arrived a day before her and as I sorted boxes of pictures, discovered a tiny Tracy-head photo from long ago. I taped it to the wall next to the work space, wondering how long it would take my sister to notice.
Less than an hour.
But now it’s just me, Mom, and that June Cleaver-esque pinhead.
At least no one expects me to wear pearls and heels while I slog through the photos . . .
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Friday Haiku
Tricolored Heron
is feeling kinda stabby.
Where are all the fish?
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Thankful Thursday
Thankful that sister Katie arrived to help archive our mother’s eighty zillion photos.
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Wordless Wednesday: Out my mother’s window
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I’m leaving on a jet plane
Heading off to see my mom.
I don’t anticipate an Albert Brooks-Debbie Reynolds kind of visit (if for no other reason than Mom and I aren’t quite as funny as Albert and Debbie), but this movie tag line from MOTHER feels appropriate:
No one misunderstands you better.
I’m eminently qualified to joke about such things. One: I’m a daughter. Two: I’m a mother. Pretty sure my sons gird their emotional loins for visits with me, too.
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Tracy Abell 
