Zippy and I went snowshoeing on Sunday
after we got about 10 inches of snow.
It was a beautiful day and our tromp through the snow was lovely.
However, I did announce to the universe
that I’d prefer a cessation of snowfall for the rest of the week.
Well, guess what?
More snow!
And frigid temps!
Dude!
© Tracy Abell 2011
Wonder if this Northern Flicker has a direct line to the powers that be . . .
1) Yesterday I made the mistake of telling my hair stylist Wildebeest
was doing really well. This morning, he was an absolute mess.
2) Last night for the first time since starting my new project, I went to
bed feeling anxious about my ability to carry it off.
3) I’m not sure if I still fit in my regular jeans.
4) Zebu and Wildebeest informed me they cannot stand how I wake
them up for school with a quiet voice as I open their curtains; they prefer
Zippy’s method of turning on lights and giving them a shove.
5) I’d pack a bag and head for the hills, but then who would hold
down the fort?
Image from morguefiles.com
1) Hello, friends! Maybe you noticed I’ve been AWOL from TracyWorld. Why? Busy, busy, busy.
2) Last weekend with the help of Zippy, Wildebeest, and Zebu, I placed 12 tons of landscaping
rock around the perimeter of our newly landscaped yard. Yesterday I spent the day with a Rug Doctor,
bringing the basement carpeting back to life. This weekend I’ll be cleaning walls and beams in preparation
for the painting crew. I appear to be nesting. No, I’m not pregnant.
3) Despite the above, I’ve been working on BIRD BRAIN revisions. This round, I’m working off ‘s
comments, and am thrilled with the improvements. I’m so grateful for all the wonderful critiques I’ve received,
and am looking forward to querying soon.
4) Tuesday night I got together with who was in town. We’d never met in person but bonded
immediately and had a wonderful time in a sports bar on election night. Really. If you have to suffer through a
political crap storm, you want to do it with someone smart and funny. I’ll always remember I was with Phoebe when
I learned civil liberties champion Sen. Russ Feingold lost his re-election bid (shame on my fellow cheeseheads!)
*** IMAGINE A DELICIOUS BROWNIE SUNDAE PHOTO HERE ***
(Because we were sporting I VOTED stickers, the bar gave us a free brownie sundae but I don’t know how to
send phone pic to email).
5) Yesterday Wildebeest turned 17. I keep thinking I’m too young to have a child that old, but I guess the
facts are against me on that one.
I’ve missed everyone and hope to catch up on LiveJournal when I get a little more breathing room.
I wish you all a glorious, early November weekend!
We’ve already been to Glenwood Springs and back.
Zippy and I had a lovely trip although it felt as if
our alone time whizzed on past much too quickly.
Much like these aspen trees Zippy photographed as I drove
us back home over Independence Pass.
(I purposely left the image ginormous to give the full effect.)
Wishing everyone a leisurely-paced weekend…
Zippy and I are off on an overnight.
In honor of his 50th birthday,
I’m taking him back to his place of birth.
No, sillies.
Not the hospital.
But we are going to Glenwood Springs,
his birth city.
There will hiking, hot springs, and a brewpub.
See you when we return!
It’s my fella’s birthday today.
Here’s a goofy grin from him to celebrate his big day:
Zippy: Wishing you much love, laughter, and Zebu’s delicious chocolate cake!
Seeing as I live in a house full of boys,
I think it’s fair I post the girl perspective:
AGNES by Tony Cochran
I don’t know about dead chickens,
but I’d definitely say my snorts of boy
either clear my head or knock me out.
Can I just say that I love my fella?
We went out to dinner the night of my emotional wallop,
and my fortune cookie fortune didn’t feel very apt.
I folded it and put it in my pocket.
But then a couple days later I noticed this tucked into our bathroom mirror:
And now I’m thinking I have the best fortune;
I have Zippy by my side.
As I type this,
Zippy, Wildebeest, and Zebu
are running the Bolder Boulder 10k.
They should be heading into their third mile right now.
The third mile’s the hardest on this course.
Uphill and lots of turns.
Go, men, go!
Lean into the hill and lift those knees!
You’re doing great!
I’ve written about the phenomenon of Northern Flickers pounding their beaks on my rain gutters.
I’ve even publicly begged their mercy since that rat-a-tat-tat makes me jump out of my proverbial skin.
Especially the metallic rat-a-tat-tat of beak on aluminum.
But the flickers ignore my feelings and persist in their rhythmic assault on my nervous system.
So I chase them away, questioning their sanity and intelligence.
There was one brief moment when I considered letting my enormous cat loose on the roof
(totally Zippy’s idea), but I refrained.
Then the other day I received an email from my friends at Wild Birds Unlimited.
And guess what?
Northern Flickers don’t pound on metal surfaces because they’re nuts.
Northern Flickers pound on those surfaces because they’re looking for love!
At least, that’s how the males go about it.
They create those loud sounds to let the females know they’re available, and to drive away other males.
(On the other hand, a slow, methodical tapping is bad news because they’re probably making a nesting hole in your wood siding).
© 2010 Tracy Abell
Anyway, that little piece of information has made a huge difference in how I handle those sudden bursts of noise.
I still don’t like it but whenever I hear it, I imagine this dude (except an actual male since I just realized this is a female!) using his beautiful, sturdy beak to find some companionship.
Call me insane, but I think that’s kind of romantic.
Zebu had a game last night,
the first in the end-of-season tournament.
I did not go.
I am so glad I did not go.
Zebu’s team won but the opposing team and opposing team’s "grown-ups"
apparently behaved atrociously.
Blatant fouls.
Poor sportsmanship.
Shouts and jeers.
Taunting.
Pounding hands and stomping feet during free throws.
Overall ass-hattery.
As Zebu, Wildebeest, and Zippy described the game,
I kept saying, "No way. They did not do that."
Especially in regards to the parents’ behavior.
I’m not sure why I’m sharing these details.
Maybe I’m hoping one of you has a magic remedy for dealing with this stuff
since Zebu plans to play basketball in high school,
and I’ll undoubtedly be faced with more of the same.
Have you encountered this during your kids’ sporting events?
If so, how do you cope?
Last night was the Zombie Crawl along the 16th Street Mall in Denver.
Wildebeest has a love/hate thing for zombies.
When I read about this event, I was positive he’d want to go
and I was excited spectators were invited to wear duct-tape Xs on their
chests to signal a willingness to be attacked.
I thought Wildebeest would want an X so he could practice skills learned
from The Zombie Survival Guide.
But when I told him, his response was more along the lines of
"Are you out of your freakin’ mind?!"
The teen knew better than his mom, that’s for sure.
BucketHead zombie didn’t scare me but was convincing in a droll kind of way.
This group was very convincing with its stiff gait and vacant eyes.
These two showed us a sheep’s head. No biggie. As long as I didn’t look too closely.
This bride was with a zombie groom and no-nonsense in her pursuit of brains.
Here’s a mob preying on an Xed victim who screamed and screamed.
Truly scary. My heart raced every time they converged on another victim.
Wildebeest watching from a safe distance.
Wildebeest’s favorite action shot: spewing blood. (Note: all photos by Wildebeest)
Wildebeest and I considered this year a recon mission, and have decided
we’d like to participate next year.
We want a group, though.
The people in groups seemed to stay in character better than the singles
and couples who sometimes strolled along in their bloody and torn clothing
as if they were out on lunch hour.
I have a whole year to work on my walk.
Zippy and I went out this afternoon and ran along the Highline Canal.
We wanted flat and not-muddy.
We wanted a trail that would allow us to run a long ways.
That’s exactly what we got.
We did Galloway method:
5 minutes running and 1 minute walking.
For 7.5 miles.
I’m definitely feeling my age right now.
I haven’t been a good LJ friend lately.
Haven’t read and commented much.
It’s been a rough year.
Despite my absence, I’m going to ask a favor.
Zippy’s mother is going in for heart surgery tomorrow morning.
She has two genetic heart conditions that need repair.
I didn’t write about this before but when Zippy got his heart stents,
they discovered he has an enlarged aorta.
The good news is they measured it again recently and it hadn’t grown.
So he doesn’t need surgery.
But as a result of his situation, his whole family got checked
and we found out his mother’s aorta is also enlarged.
Hers needs to be repaired now.
Plus the leaky valve they discovered.
All this time we’ve been worried about Zippy needing that surgery
and then we find out his mother is having it, instead.
We’re pretty scared.
And scared people don’t tend to project the most comforting thoughts.
So I’m asking if you could please send good thoughts to his mother.
She goes in first thing tomorrow morning.
Thank you so much.
Tracy
This afternoon we noticed a stray dog out in the street.
He was skittish but I lured him into our backyard with a bowl of water.
We couldn’t get close enough to read the phone number on his tags.
Not even with the binoculars.
Or the telephoto camera lens.
We took turns trying to read those numbers.
My old(er) eyes couldn’t do it.
Zebu’s young(er) eyes couldn’t do it, either.
Zippy’s efforts were thwarted by all the fur.
So he got down on the ground with binoculars and biscuits.
And coaxed the big boy closer.
It took quite some time.
But Zippy prevailed.
Turns out his name is Buster.
And he was brought to the shelter as a fence-jumper.
The good news is a new family adopted him.
Bad news is Buster’s been caught three times by Animal Control.
Today, though, he avoided an arrest.
And made some new friends.
Zippy, Zebu, and I spent about three hours
at a family picnic in a cow pasture.
You read that correctly.
Zippy’s mother’s family has land out in the country
and they’ve built a permanent picnic shelter out there.
In the midst of the cacti and cow patties.
I had a great time with my camera.
Globemallow (?) and Cow Poop
Bone At Rest
Ants At Work 
Alien Insect Touring the Salad
Zebu Warding Off the Paparazzi
Wildflower Bouquet 
Hope everyone had a wonderful weekend.
And that the fireworks have quit in your neighborhood.
Ahem.
1) My new whiteboard is working out very well, despite the injury it sustained on the way home from the store.
For those interested, here are great directions for making and installing a whiteboard.
2) With the help of the aforementioned whiteboard, I’m figuring out all sorts of stuff about my YA project
and am preparing to dive into the second draft. And it doesn’t feel as if this dive will be a belly flop, either.
3) My garden is lush and jungle-like because of all the rain.
4) Zebu and Wildebeest have transitioned nicely into summer vacation and, dare I say it?, are getting along.
5) Today is Zippy’s last day of cardio rehab following the stents he received, and I’m so impressed by his hard work
and dedication to good health.
Wishing all of you a most satisfactory weekend!
This morning Zippy and Zebu headed downtown to Zippy’s office.
It’s Take Your Child to Work Day.
Zippy is an engineer.
Zippy is currently employed by a company that filed for bankruptcy.
Zippy doesn’t have a whole lot of work going on right now.
Zippy is terribly worried Zebu will think engineering work is boring.
I’m terribly worried Zebu will think engineering work isn’t boring.
(Just kidding! Well, kinda . . .)
Still, Zebu chose to accompany his father rather than his mother to work.
Could it be because Zebu already knows
my work involves multiple trips to the kitchen to see if something tasty showed up since I last checked?
Did Zebu avoid my workplace because he knows
I’m likely to spend considerable time pacing the room, talking to myself?
Or could it be Zebu is avoiding me and my work because
yesterday as I sat writing in front of the window a turkey vulture circled my house?
( assures me the vulture was only there to carry off dead words, but it’s still worrisome.)
Either way, I was left alone to contemplate my career choice.
I’ve gotta say, no matter how tough this road to publication,
I’ve never, ever contemplated being an engineer.
And that’s okay.
Wishing everyone a wonderful weekend.
Thank you again for all the good wishes regarding Zippy’s heart. Yesterday he went to work and felt fine, even as he took a nearly two-mile walk on the mall. He walked slowly and with a friend, and enjoyed being out in the fresh air.
Since many, many people are suffering in this poor economy and job market, I wanted to share something that might help someone:
We thought Zippy’s feelings of low-energy and breathlessness (and eventual tightening in chest) were a result of stress since the company he works for filed for bankruptcy in November and his job terminates at the end of March.
But Zippy now realizes there was a major difference between how stress affected his body and how the blocked artery affected him.
In the past, whenever he was under stress exercise always made him feel better.
When his artery was blocked, exercise did NOT make him feel better (physically or emotionally).
(My siblings found this info helpful since they’ve been walking around clutching their chests, wondering if they’re also on the verge of heart attacks. My family has a history of heart disease, as does Zippy’s. And yes, I realize Zippy and I had no business having kids since we’re both practically blind and have family trees filled with clogged arteries. But that genetic ship has sailed).
Yesterday was Friday the 13th.
The day for Zippy’s appointment with a cardiologist because of chest pains that started eight days earlier.
Chest pains that progressed from only during exercise (running) to walking to the bus to pains felt while driving to the cardiologist and then again while filling out paperwork in the cardiologist’s office.
Yesterday was Friday the 13th.
The day when Zippy’s body screamed out for attention so that rather than a meet-and-greet, gathering of medical history kind of appointment, Zippy was sent to the hospital for an angiogram.
Yesterday was Friday the 13th.
The day doctors detected Zippy’s severely blocked artery and fixed it with two stents.
Yesterday was Friday the 13th.
The day we learned Zippy hadn’t suffered any heart attacks, that his heart wasn’t damaged,
and that his heart muscle is strong.
The day we averted medical disaster.
Today is February 14.
Valentine’s Day.
The day the love of my life is home with us again, feeling so much better than he has in the past two months.
Today is February 14.
Valentine’s Day.
I’m so very grateful.
Tonight Zippy and I saw a man who is bald on top and has shoulder-length hair.
Since Zippy is headed toward bald on top, I pointed out he could wear his hair like that.
He said, "I like mine better."
I agreed.
He said, "Shorter hair is just easier, there’s no hassle."
I said, "I love short hair and if I looked like Natalie Portman, I’d shave my head."
He said, "If you looked like Natalie Portman, I’d shave my head."
We’re not quite sure what that meant. But we laughed a bunch.
Yesterday I posted an excerpt of a letter written to me by the narrator of my new project. I figured my writer friends would appreciate it. We like stuff like that.
Well, last night I made the mistake of letting Zippy read it. Zippy is not a writer, he’s an engineer. Zippy doesn’t read lots of fiction, much less ponder the fiction-writing process.
He turned from the computer screen and frowned. Then he said something like "How old is this kid and was this letter written in the future, like when he’s in his twenties?"
I swear, I wanted to strangle him. And I still wanted to choke him this morning.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I reminded myself Zippy only read a portion of the letter. He had no way of knowing the letter ended up being less about finding the character’s voice than some strong advice from that character on how to go about writing the book. Zippy didn’t know that although I was disappointed in not getting a "flash" of voice in that letter, I did map out my approach a bit more. And because of that, I consider the letter a success.
But Zippy’s reaction got me thinking. For those of you who read the excerpt, were you wondering if the letter was written by my character in his future twenties?
Zippy called yesterday afternoon to say he was sick and headed home.
Told my parents who were visiting they must leave so they don’t catch the plague from Zippy.
They need all their strength for their drive across the country to their winter home in Florida.
Zebu arrives home and hugs grandparents goodbye.
Then Zebu reveals he felt sick at school.
Parents rush out front door as Zippy enters from garage.
Parents swallow much Vitamin C before driving away.
Wildebeest arrives home with sniffles but says "I’m impervious to colds."
This morning – a workday, a school day – the house is quiet.
Zippy tucked into his bed. Zebu reading in his bed. Wildebeest snoring in his.
Mother calls me from my brother’s where she spent last night.
So far, so good. Maybe they got out in time.
Me? I’m still blowing my nose from the cold that started two weeks ago and hoping I don’t get sick again.
I’ve got a conference this weekend.
And JoNo writing goals.
Please pass the tissue.
On Monday Zippy and Wildebeest entered a Tent State University lottery for today’s free concert featuring Rage Against the Machine.
This morning Zippy received an email informing him he had two tickets.
Zippy came home, changed out of his office attire, went to the high school where he pulled Wildebeest from class, and then drove to the Denver Coliseum.
At 3:45 Zippy called to say the concert was over and that he and Wildebeest had joined the three-mile march on the Pepsi Center, site of the Democratic National Convention.
I turned on the television and listened to the usual fear-mongering spin (“Some rumors of protesters carrying bottles of urine to throw” ; “No one knows what will happen when the protesters reach their destination” ; “A hundred armed police officers are waiting outside the Pepsi Center”)
Zippy called again. I asked if he’d spotted any bottles of urine and he said he didn’t think anyone had urine to spare since they were all so hot and dehydrated.
Any confrontations, Zippy?
No, just Code Pink women giving the police officers Make Out Not War stickers which the police affixed to their gear.
(This is only what Zippy and Wildebeest experienced. I know there have been confrontations.)
Tracy Abell 