Wildebeest, Zebu, Tracy, and Zippy on this New Year’s eve.
It’s been a hard year on the planet, but we’re still upright.
There’s definitely strength in numbers, and I’m grateful we have each others’ backs.
Happy New Year to you and yours.
Here’s hoping we kick every ass that needs kicking in 2018.
Tonight Zippy, Wildebeest, Zebu, and I are going to watch the Nuggets play the 76ers. I’m excited because one of my favorite former Michigan State players, Gary Harris, plays for the Nuggets. Also, I love basketball.
However, that excitement doesn’t mean I won’t be packing a pen and notebook. Yes, I’m a basketball fan. But I’m also a writer who likes to be prepared, and as Tom Waits says: Any place is good for eavesdropping, if you know how to eavesdrop.
Even a basketball arena.
We’re headed to Zippy’s sister’s home for a belated Christmas gathering. I was wrapping some gifts in my writing room when I looked up to see Marcel wedging himself in the box of ribbons. I carried the box out to show Zippy, and asked him to take a photo.
That face is a Christmas miracle all its own.
It’s been a low-key day.
A good day.
For that, I’m grateful.
Today Zippy and I went to Berry Patch Farms in Brighton, Colorado.
Michelle’s mother and sisters arranged to have a bench and stone placed there in her memory, seeing as it was one of Michelle’s favorite places to visit with her young daughter.
At the top of the stone is a quote from Michelle: “Now this is what a strawberry should taste like.”
Note: the rooster windchime on the tree was there before Michelle’s bench. Can you say SERENDIPITY?
On their frequent visits to the farm with the old red barn, Michelle and her daughter would watch the chickens and roosters.
They’d pick berries together and take home bouquets of cut flowers.
Today, Michelle’s mother, sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, nephews, and friends gathered in her memory. For the past two weeks or so, the weather has been uncharacteristically cold and rainy, but today the sun was shining in a blue, blue sky. The morning was lovely, and I suspect Michelle pulled some strings to make it so.
It was bittersweet being at the farm without Michelle, but here I am warming her cheery red bench along with three of the Writing Roosters, the critique group she lobbied to include me in its membership. Michelle’s generosity lives on.
Jenn Bertman, Tracy Abell, Jen Simms, Laura Perdew (Vanessa Appleby & Claudia Mills were unable to attend)
I spilled water then.
Now? We’re bound as family.
Teapot dome scandal.
Every creature is better alive than dead,
men and moose and pine trees,
and he who understands it aright will rather preserve its life than destroy it.
~ Henry David Thoreau
Over the past weekend, we were in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. My two sons, Wildebeest and Zebu, got into a lively debate over running ability and were finally coerced by those sick of listening to that debate into running a short race. While their uncle got ready at the finish line with his camera to capture their final steps, their father (Zippy) lined them up at the starting line. But just before Zippy shot the proverbial starter’s pistol, he saw a tiny creature on the race course:
Horned Lizard aka Horny Toad
After moving the Horned Lizard to safety, the race commenced.
(NOTE: Wildebeest won by a slim margin, pulling a quad muscle in the process. The two agreed to switch “lanes” and run it again, and that time Zebu won by a whole bunch. I’m guessing the Horned Lizard is as happy as the rest of us that the two of them have, at least temporarily, moved beyond that whole running debate.)
Today, my nephew left for his stint in the Peace Corps. For the next 27 months, Jamie will be working in Ecuador. I’m so proud of his generous and adventurous spirit.
This photo of Jamie was taken in 2004 when we visited my sister’s family in NYC and PA.
Buen viaje, sobrino!
We moved into our home twenty years ago this weekend. We bought the house from the original owners and, in addition to the roof and walls, we also purchased a few furnishings from them. We still have one of the large braided rugs (the other three rugs have gone to the big loom in the sky), and it is way past due for retirement.
Over the years, six dogs, five cats, and four humans have walked on this rug (and that’s not counting the orginal owners’ years of use). I don’t even want to imagine what’s trapped between the braids. I very much want a new rug and have spent a huge amount of time searching stores and online for something decent that we can afford. I’ve already returned two (we also need to replace a tired wool rug in the living room) after the dye came off on our hands.
I realize that my rug search qualifies as a small-potatoes-problem, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing I could summon a Rug Fairy.
Our family is rich
so how did I end up with
this big onion head?
This picture makes me
think little girls in dumb hats
is super cool shit.
Children lose their smiles
pose for a picture; realize
head is an onion.
(NOTE: Despite the no-talking rule as we composed our haikus, mother and son both went the onion route. Nature or nurture, hmm?)