My favorite aspects of these holidays are the lights. We don’t have a tree this year (Wildebeest borrowed it for the house he shares with five others) but we do have two strings of lights artistically draped across our mantel. We also have a bunch of lights outside. This year, Zippy and I wrapped our locust tree in lights.
As you can see by this accidentally reflected photo, I smile every time I look at it.
So here’s something from 2014 that I feel good about: I finally went ahead and made some changes to our bathroom. For years I’ve wanted to get rid of the white plastic tub surround that was installed poorly and, therefore, buckled and pulled away from the wall along the top of the tub. It was impossible to keep clean and I couldn’t take baths because it’s difficult to relax when everything at eye level = YUCK. (When showering, I was actually grateful for my poor vision because then I could kinda, sorta pretend the bathroom looked all right.)
I knew I wanted something new but couldn’t decide what that something new would be, and decisions are not my friends. At least, decisions didn’t used to be my friends. We’re still not BFFs, but we’re doing better. Once I put in the call to the general contractor a friend had recommended waaay back in May, I made decisions Bing-Bang-Boom. Tile? Got it. Accent tile? Found it. New vanity top and sink? Check. Paint? Check again. Window treatment? Okay, that took a couple tries but not for lack of decision-making, but because of dimensions. Shower curtain? Done.
My bathroom went from feeling cold and dreary to being one of my favorite places in the house. In fact, I’m sitting on the edge of the tub right now.
It’s been soul-crushingly cold this past week, but today the temperature in the shade is hovering at the freezing mark and is almost tolerable in the sun. My feathered friends have been here throughout the week, eating seeds and drinking from the heated bath. I’m grateful for their company.
Stay warm, friends!
On this election night, I’m taking steps to avoid a full-on freak-out:
“Know Your Rights” felt particularly timely and I pumped that iron with a fierce determination.
(And you know what else? In the spirit of self-preservation I’m also gonna quit wasting my time trying to get that effing bullet point to line up where it should line up!)
When I woke up this morning it was cold and wet, the streets covered in an icy, slushy mess. My plan had been to run outside, but the moisture plus 40 degree temperature convinced me to have a “boring” run on the treadmill.
HA! It was anything but boring. And no, I didn’t fall overboard or go flying off the back.
My treadmill looks out onto my backyard that is planted with native shrubs and covered in mulch. There are bird feeders and bath, squirrel nut munch, and an ear of corn that yesterday I harvested from the volunteer corn stalk growing against the house. In the 35 minutes I was on the treadmill, going nowhere fast(ish), I saw:
I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have seen a fraction of this activity on the street, so I wanted to document this treadmill workout for later in the season when I’m longing to be outside. I need to remember that, sometimes, running in place is where it’s at.
View from my treadmill.
Saw this beauty sunning itself on deck rail and captured with telephoto lens:
The maple leaves are turning and I leaned over deck rail for a close-up look:
The Christmas cactus sits next to the window so I zoomed in on its delicate beauty:
Haven’t only been looking at lovely stuff, but am keeping my oath and making great progress on the final scenes of my YA. The End is in sight!
Sometimes as an act of self-preservation I have to turn my back on all the craziness in the world and focus solely on my needs. I block out most everything going on around me in order to nourish my body and spirit.
And then when I’m ready to re-enter the fray, I try to hold onto this kind of mindset:
Okay, going forth now . . .
“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher
“The age I’m at now, you go from being a young girl to suddenly you blossom into a woman. You ripen, you know? And then you start to rot.” ~ Liv Tyler
“People think that their world will get smaller as they get older. My experience is just the opposite. Your senses become more acute. You start to blossom.” ~Yoko Ono
Today it’s Monday, gray and gloomy.
My antidote? Photos Zippy took a month ago.
“Some painters transform the sun into a yellow spot, others transform a yellow spot into the sun.” ~Pablo Picasso
As I perused my photos, hoping to pluck an image or two from the obscurity of my hard drive, I came across a couple unsettling pics.
Years after this ash tree was photographed, it was attacked by an unidentified blight and is no longer in our garden.
(Just realized that the neighbor’s crab apple tree in the background was also cut down. Not to mention that the snow is also long-gone. HAHAHA! Ahem.) Then there’s this selfie for a passport photo from a “few” years back:
Those glasses, the dangling jewelry, the barely-gray hair . . . no longer. The only constant is my deer-in-the-headlights expression whenever a camera’s aimed at me.
A lone morning glory climbing the sunflower stalks.
“They grow up so fast.”
That’s Zebu on the left, playing with a neighbor-friend, a bunch of years ago.
On Sunday, Zebu flew out of state to attend his freshman orientation and registration at the college he’ll begin attending next month. On this trip, he took his first solo taxi ride, stayed at a motel by himself, jumped through the many hoops necessary for registration, and secured one of two remaining spots in a chemistry class. Whew. We’re picking him up at the airport tonight.
He’s about three feet taller than he was in that photo, but Zebu has the same spunk and determination exhibited there. (Warning! Cliche #2 alert): Some things never change.
Grackles touring the neighborhood:
Zombies on the move:
Water falling:
Ball dropping:
Nesting doll balancing act:
I don’t ever blog about books I’ve read unless I want to recommend them to others. But because the author has long since departed, I think it’s okay for me to be publicly vocalize my feelings of WTF?!
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. A book that feels like a whole lotta tell and not a whole lotta show. We’re told, over and over and over again, that Kurtz is an extraordinary man who holds people in his thrall. But when Kurtz finally showed up in the story, I did not find him believable or compelling. He just felt to me like some guy who’d lost his mind in the jungle. I was given no reason to believe the native people would be heartbroken at his departure. (Unless they were upset because they’d never get the chance to exact revenge on him for putting those heads on those poles.)
So. That’s my take on Heart of Darkness. Deep, huh?
And now, apropos of nothing, here’s a squirrel:
This Iraq death toll sign was in our front yard for years and years, chained to the tree. Today, I put it out again. Because U.S. “Humanitarian” Bombing of Iraq: A Redundant Presidential Ritual
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Today it’s in the 90s.
Hot, sweat-inducing weather.
As I walked by my neighbor’s yard, he called out, “Hi, Tracy! Nice day!”
I replied, “A little toasty for my taste.”
His response: “I still remember January.”
Point well taken. Although, who’s to say these starlings weren’t a bit overheated?
Another random photo find on the computer: an American Kestrel, which is a small falcon.
My intent was to find a kestrel or falcon-related quotation to include here, but nothing rang true. Until, that is, I came across this quote from Dave Barry:
My very first car was a Ford Falcon Sprint. It looked something like this (except with an ugly, scabrous paint job):
Mr. Barry’s quote made me laugh even though I don’t remember experiencing acceleration issues. But there are all sorts of things I don’t remember from my L.A. life way back then, so maybe it’s true. At least I made it out of the intersection.
Clicked at random and this photo by Wildebeest came up. It feels very YA and appropriate to my project, except for the fact no one in my book skates. But still . . .
Maybe I should write a Lizard King into my story.
A lovely way to end the week.
. . . the more they stay the same. (Or, for the Francophiles: plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose)
I’ve written before about elder son’s (Wildebeest) penchant for doing things the hard and harder way. I didn’t exactly believe that that rock-headed character trait would disappear as he got older, but I admit to thinking it would, um, soften. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Whew.
I really do have to laugh, though, because when I needed an image for this post, I opened a photo file and clicked at random. This is what appeared:
Dreadlock Attempt (hey, that’s a great name for a band!)
Rather than believing that the Universe is peeing-its-pants-laughing at me, I choose to believe the Universe has my back.
Yesterday I took Zoey to the vet for a thorough check-up because I was sure there was something seriously wrong with her. I was sure she had a tumor, just as our long-ago Packy had a tumor that made her mid-section feel just as Zoey’s did on Sunday.
I was wrong! Zoey does not have a tumor. Zoey is overweight and may need medication for her blood pressure, but otherwise is doing pretty well for an older gal.
Hooray for being wrong!
“The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.”
~ Andy Rooney
Zoey, of the unconditional love and bad breath, is at the vet’s right now receiving a “senior exam.” I’m hoping I’m wrong about what I sense. Either way, I’m leaving now to pick her up and bring her home to her best friend, Coco. The reunion will result in tail-wagging that would sting my legs if I was foolish enough to get in the way.
At the end of May, Zebu graduated from high school and was one of the speakers. The ceremony was held at Red Rocks Amphitheater (coolest place ever!), but we were seated halfway up the venue so had to rely on the Jumbotron. (Aside: It was a thrill seeing Zebu and friends on the big screen.)
My older brother and his girlfriend also attended, sitting even farther from the stage. Later on, he told me he couldn’t see a whole lot of details but did notice Zebu’s red tie beneath his black gown. I reminded my bro he’d given Zebu that tie for Christmas one year (along with white gym socks), thinking that was a cool factoid. NOT. Rather than feeling warm and nostalgic, my brother panicked a bit because he had no memory of that and went into a short tailspin about getting old and forgetful. I eventually helped the silly codger to a chair and handed him a glass of milk to calm his nerves, and we laughed it off.
Fast forward to today. I just found photographic proof of the tie AND gym socks. Behold, Christmas eve 2005:
l-r: Wildebeest, Zoey, Tracy, Coco, Zebu, and Uncle Pizza.
I’m thrilled with this evidence, but am not sure whether it will soothe or further agitate my brother’s mind . . .
Tracy Abell 
