Z-Mobile

I really like Zebu’s physics class work-in-progress, but the kitchen probably isn’t the most sensible place to create a mobile.Harlan's mobile 001However, we’re all adapting.

Zippy made a delicious pot of soup despite the influence of those stinky shoes, and Loki seems content to stroll beneath the teetering creation. So I guess it’s my issue if I smack my head on one of the poles.

Wisconsin Death Trip

When Zippy and I lived in Anchorage, we took a black and white photography class at UAA. Our instructor (hey, Bob!), learned I was originally from Wisconsin and asked if I’d ever read WISCONSIN DEATH TRIP. I had not. But I filed the title away in the dim recesses of my brain until a couple weeks ago when I came across the book while doing research.

Wisconsin Death Trip cover

From Wikipedia: “[Wisconsin Death Trip by Michael Lesy] is based on a collection of late 19th century photographs by Jackson County, Wisconsin photographer Charles Van Schaick, mostly in the city of Black River Falls, and local news reports from the same period. It emphasizes the harsh aspects of Midwestern rural life under the pressures of crime, disease, mental illness, and urbanization.”

This book dispels any notions about “the good old days,” with its pages of matter-of-fact newspaper accounts of death and insanity. It boggles the mind to contemplate living in that time and place, and the grim expressions in the photographs make me ache for everything those people endured. It’s not easy to read, yet the book is incredibly compelling; I feel almost obligated to finish it as a sort of tribute to them and their monumentally difficult lives. (One newspaper excerpt mentioned the small town where I grew up. A grave was excavated — the article didn’t say why — and when the coffin was opened, it was discovered the woman had shifted position inside because she’d been accidentally buried alive. As if life above ground wasn’t horrible enough during that time . . .)

What’s the takeaway from all this? I’m very grateful I did not live in Wisconsin in the late 1800s because I’m quite sure there’d be a notice in the newspaper about my admittance to the state psychiatric hospital. Unless I took the attitude of Mary “The Window Smasher” Sweeny, and broke plate glass windows wherever and whenever I had the chance.

In light of all I’ve read about life back then, smashing glass seems like a relatively healthy coping mechanism.

          

A Tale of Three Sweaters

Years ago, my mother bought me a multi-colored wool sweater from L.L. Bean. I wore it often when substitute teaching in Anchorage, and sometimes felt too warm but still loved it because wool seems to provide a psychological barrier against cold and dark. At least, that’s how I see it.

A year or two later, I purchased a longer/larger wool sweater while at the Alaska State Fair. It was made with different shades of blue and purple yarn, and every time I put it on, remembered that day at the fair. Specifically, riding the Scrambler with Zippy, laughing while our friends Anne and Jim (who I hoped to make a couple) rode in another car and blushingly struggled to maintain some distance between them as the laws of physics smushed them together.

About ten years ago I went to the People’s Fair in Denver on a hot, hot summer day and, in a fit of counter-intuitive behavior, tried on wool sweaters. I ended up buying a black and white one that was handmade in Ecuador, a stunning sweater that came with a jaunty little hat. I couldn’t wait for the temperatures to drop. Later that winter I wore my new sweater across the street to my neighbors’ house where a bunch of people shouted SURPRISE! and squirted me with silly string to help celebrate my 40th birthday.

Beautiful sweaters, all.

I kept them in my closet in Anchorage and then here in Colorado, up on a shelf for easy access. Then one day I decided to put them in a zippered bag and store that bag in a bin beneath my bed. Last weekend I got cold and went to the storage bin for my large made-in-Alaska sweater. I pulled it out and put it on, thinking something felt different.  As I walked back down the hallway, a wooden button dropped from the sweater. I ran my hands over the wool and realized it’d changed.

MOTHS!  CATERPILLARS!  DESTRUCTION!  EWW!

Apparently I’d sealed my sweaters away for safekeeping with a moth who got very lucky. And very busy.

I said goodbye to those glorious wool sweaters and threw them in the garbage, encased in their zipper bag. However, I’m still having difficulty getting that imagery and tactile sensation out of my mind, and it doesn’t help that I found a caterpillar in my cleavage a few minutes after putting on the sweater. (Like I said, EWW!)

All that’s left is my little hat.  Still out on the deck because I’ve been afraid to bring it back inside. Here it is in all it’s Ecuadoran wool glory:

Wool hat 001But now that I’ve handled it in order to get a photo, maybe I’m brave enough to give it another chance in the house.  I’m not yet ready to wear it, though.  Perhaps it should be my gift to Coco.

Wool hat 004

 

In Which Tracy Turns Fifty

Last week I turned 50 years old.

50 skeeball LJ 11.28.12
(image from morguefile.com matthew_hull)

Even when the birthday isn’t a major psychological milestone,
it’s hard for me to feel celebratory in late November
when the days are short and the gloom seems to stretch on forever.
Which is why I planned ahead and made arrangements for our family
to fly to San Diego and stay in a condo on the beach in Oceanside.

I really, really wanted solid family-bonding time because our
last few tumultuous years yielded less-than-heartwarming vacations.
This family time would be different, dammit!

And it was.

Wildebeest and I took morning walks on the beach,
talking and laughing.
Zebu and I shared a nighttime stroll,
watching the silhouettes of shorebirds
in the lights of the distant pier.

There was football, Frisbee, and boogie-boarding.
Sunshine,
surfers,
and sanderlings (my favorite busy-busy shorebird).

I saw dolphins just beyond the line of surfers, gracefully cutting through the water,
and Zebu got to see his first sunsets over the Pacific; he took this photo from our balcony:
Sunset in Oceanside

I shot pool for the first time in years and regaled my sons with tales of
my many years playing in bars and pool halls. My performance was
streaky, but I made enough good shots that Zebu commented it was
obvious I used to play a lot. (Score one for Mom!)

Months ago when I made arrangements, my plan was to
celebrate my birthday by running on the beach for 50 minutes,
and run I did (along with Zippy). My altitude lungs were tickled to
be at sea level, my trail-running feet were grateful for the mostly
flat beach, and my bird-loving heart was thrilled by the constant
presence of gulls, pelicans, crows, willets, and curlews. I smiled
and waved and called out greetings to my feathered friends as I ran.
We went 5.69 miles in those 50 minutes, the final mile our fastest.

Then we soaked in a hot tub.

Now we’re back home in Colorado dealing with our real lives, the
skin-shriveling dry air, and a lack of happy-inducing negative ions.
However, I’ve got a mental scrapbook filled with wonderful memories and a
healthy start on how I’ll define life after fifty.

Plus this lovely souvenir from our family vacation in Oceanside, California.

Oceanside rock in hand 005

My Anniversary Gift

Zippy and I went to the Botanic Gardens yesterday evening
and as I came around a hedge, a wonderful seed-pod-like-thing
was blowing along the ground.

Tumbling and bouncing.

I held it for a few moments before setting it free again.

Botanic Gardens 012 CROPPED

Maybe I’ll see its offspring the next time I’m there . . .

It was 20 years ago today

Today marks 20 years of marriage for Zippy and me
and I wanted to share photos of that day on Hatcher Pass in Alaska.

It was an intimate ceremony: Zippy and me, Witnesses Bob and Liz,
Photographer Anne, and Marriage Commissioner Scott.

T and K wedding polaroid
Polaroid shot of preparations in the chilly weather (rain coats necessary).

T and K wedding ceremony
Scott performing the ceremony in his role as Marriage Commissioner.
(He and I were forever-friends, next to each other in our kindergarten class photo).

T and K wedding seed beads
Scott surprised us with a gift of seed beads and additional words of love.

T and K wedding b&w
We were blissfully unaware of the tourists in the background watching and photographing us.

T and K wedding with S and A
Photographer Anne took a break from her camera and joined us for some pics.

It was a wonderful day and I thank our friends again for being there for us,
especially Scott who died of AIDS complications four months later. He traveled
all that way in poor health to perform our ceremony (and despite his threats to
the contrary, did not pronounce us “man and wife,” but “husband and wife.” Thank
you, Scotty!)

T and K wedding kiss

It’s hard to believe so many years have already flown past.
Happy Anniversary, Zippy.
May there always be love.

Wordful Wednesday: The Automotive Edition

I’m sure all sorts of other stuff has been going on but it feels as if it’s been CARS – 24/7.

  • First it was warning lights in 2004 Prius.
  • Then a new water pump.
  • Followed a few days later by more warning lights and brake failure (while Zebu approached intersection and had to stomp on parking brake).
  • Then minutes later me driving with passenger Zebu back to the mechanic when at the bottom of our street we got hit by an SUV while waiting at the stop sign.
  • Followed by 45 minutes of other driver crying and apologizing while police officer who happened to be sitting there waiting to catch people running the stop sign wrote out a full report.
  • Including a ticket for me because my proof of insurance had expired and Zippy lost the new one but thought putting the bill from our insurance company in the glove compartment would be proof enough we have insurance.
  • Guess what?
  • It isn’t.

file0001404885086
image from morguefile.com (by Gracey)

Oy.
The front left fender is smashed in but no one got hurt so it’s all okay.
I haven’t started in on the insurance issue yet because I need a little more rest before I’m ready to tackle all that.
Oh, and the brakes?
There’s nothing wrong with them.
We found out, however, that there was a recall on another pump which was replaced at the dealer yesterday
and we’re hoping the ensuing electrical failure was what caused the brakes to go out.

For some reason Zebu only wants to drive the Subaru.

Friday Five: The Catching Up Edition

1)  Zebu turned 16 this week and got his driver’s license.
Knowing him, that’s what he was dreaming about in this old photo:
passport Harlan 001

2)  Zippy is training for the MS 150 Colorado Bike Ride next weekend
and has been going on looong rides in the 90+ degree temperatures plus
commuting to work via bike which means a return ride of 12+ miles uphill.
(It’s a good cause and he’s low on fundraising so if you have a couple bucks
to toss his way he’d be thrilled).

3)  Wildebeest is living with Casa Bonita workmates and enjoying
the freedom of a home so messy he temporarily lost his phone.

4)  I am waiting to hear back from a critique partner on my revisions
before I can finally, finally send them off. In the meanwhile I’m revisiting the project
I set aside several months ago and tweaking the synopsis with a new perspective.

5)  The nest cam is still running at Cornell University and here’s the youngest
hawk looking quizzical on her return visit to the nest the other day:
Hello #3

I’ve been out of the loop here but hope everyone is doing well.
Wishing you all a great weekend!

Friday Five: The Slice of Life Edition

1)  Whenever fifteen-year-old Zebu winks at me, I swing between feelings of admiration and intimidation since I’ve never felt confident enough of my winking ability to do so.

image from morguefile.com

2)  At my suggestion eighteen-year-old Wildebeest is reading Stephen King’s MISERY, and enjoying himself mightily.

3)   Zoey and Coco want me to remember that when I choose to bathe them and
spray them with water, I must be prepared for the relationship to suffer a loss of trust.

© Tracy Abell 2012

4)  Zippy is reading a library e-copy of 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami, a 944-page
novel, and was thrilled to discover even though his copy is overdue he can
still read it as long as he doesn’t close the file.

5)  I’ve been battling flu-like symptoms much of the week but plan to get
on the treadmill in a couple hours for my cardio workout, and hope to feel
those “endolphins” kick in (so I’m, in the words of Zippy, “swimming in the dolphin tank.”)

image from morguefile.com

Wishing everyone a lovely weekend!

Familial Points of Intersection

      

I share a home with three males,
and often feel odd-person-out.
Males and females are different in many ways,
and I'm not just talking an appreciation of farts.

In addition to the gender gap there are also generational divides
between Zippy and me, and our teenage sons.
Oldsters and youngsters don't always have the same outlooks,
and not just because certain people can stay up all night.

There's also the whole issue of us being individuals,
which fosters our unique perspectives on the world.

When I think about it this way, it's nearly a miracle
the four of us can agree on anything.
But we do.
And on days of particularly bumpy familial relations
(I'm looking at you, Today!),
I find it helpful to reflect on the list of our shared interests:

1)  All four of us love Arrested Development!

2)  All four of us love The Clash!

3)  All four of us love Indian food!

4)  All four of us love March Madness!

If you were to draw a Venn Diagram of this household,
those would be the four major points of intersection 
between Zippy, Wildebeest, Zebu, and me.

And as you know, we are now in the month of March
which means we can focus on our shared passion for non-stop college basketball.

Save this family, March Madness!

                   
  

Snow Day!

           
             

We've already gotten at least a foot of snow and it keeps falling.
Zippy filled the feeder and put out another suet cake this morning
and it's a feeding frenzy out there.

I was just making pumpkin pies and kept stopping to snap photos.

This guy's up on the wire overlooking the scene, and the various jays (blue, western scrub)
keep flying to adjacent wires where they appear to be taunting him.

The hawk doesn't seem to much care
and comes across as rather zen-like amidst all the hubbub.

                   

Sunday Outing

              

Yesterday Zippy, Zebu and I went to Casa Bonita to see Wildebeest perform.


 

I'd never been there, but it's common knowledge people go for the entertainment
rather than the food.

Here I am, Vegetarian in a Strange Land, with the dinner everyone above 
the age of two must buy:

I moved the mound of food around the plate, but it was pretty obvious I ate nothing.

We were seated right next to the stage that is flanked by a waterfall and sits above the pool
for the dive shows.  This was our view across the restaurant: 
 
 
Here's Wildebeest in a skit with Chiquita the Gorilla:

And here he is in another skit with Black Bertha (Black Bart's sister):

Here are Zippy and Zebu exploring the lower level dining area:

This table got my vote for Most Claustrophobic Seating:

It was such fun watching Wildebeest get up on stage and do his thing.
We're thrilled he landed a job that makes him happy and brings smiles to lots of people.

Even when he tries to pretend otherwise.

                

Friday Five: The Will-Wonders-Never-Cease Edition

            

1)  Wildebeest thanked me this week for not letting him watch much television
when he was little because he believes that made him a good reader.

2)  While I drove Zebu and his friend to school Tuesday morning, Zebu laughed
at one of my jokes! In front of his friend!

3)  Wildebeest ate an entire helping of Zippy's curry the other night and said,
"This is really good."

4)  Last month Zebu complimented me on my texting speed. 

5)  Grasshoppers have some seriously trippy gription going on:   


                                                                                                     © Tracy Abell 2011 

Wishing everyone a wonder-filled weekend!

          

If You Build It, You Will Sleep

                      

Last week we went to Westcliffe where my mother has a small cabin.
A few people sleep outside on the deck but most everyone sleeps in tents.

 

Zippy and I’ve pitched our tent in the same place for years,
a slightly sloped, rocky spot beneath some pine trees.
I don’t get very good sleep while there and after a few nights of that, I’m exhausted.

So, this year we (um, I) decided we should have tent platforms.

Via Craigslist, I found enough secondhand Trex decking for two 10′ x 12′ platforms
and in early July we loaded that and a bunch of other lumber into a 16′ rental truck and took it down.
 
Here’s where we built the first platform (for Zebu and Wildebeest) last week:
 
Here are Zippy and Zebu working hard to build a level frame (Wildebeest was off chasing a gorilla) :
 
Zippy and Zebu are math-heads, and they had a grand time measuring and strategizing 
while I served as beast of burden and moved lumber and tools as needed.
 
They made great progress that first day but we had to pause while it stormed:
 
When we finished, the boys had what turned out to be The Best Morning Spot on the property . . . 
shade until ten in the a.m., baby!

 
We built Zippy’s and my platform after that (note the 9 on the headboard; Zebu and I drove into
town for drill bits and when he saw the house numbers on display, insisted we get some. He
and Wildebeest are number 4 while I opted for "number nine, number nine" in honor of The Beatles):
 
And now Zippy and I have this glorious view of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains:
 
But even better, we sleep well.
 

Friday Five: The All-in-the-Family Edition

         

 
1)  On Tuesday morning I crowed about my runner’s high and feeling so good

2)  but by that evening all euphoria was gone due to a Wildebeest implosion,

3)  and we were forced to sort through the rubble.

 
4)  The dust has settled and tomorrow we focus on Zebu’s 15th birthday.
 
5)  Today, though, I will focus on this Western Tanager captured by Zippy:
 

                                                                                                                         © Zippy 2011

 

Wishing everyone a rubble-free weekend!
 
              

Friday Five: The Wine-tasting Edition

                

I know, I know.
You’re scratching your heads, wondering how this photo translates into a Friday Five
when there are only four people in the picture (Mom, Sister, Me, and the surly Zippy).


                                                                                                                   photo by Bitsy

Well, sillies, it’s quite simple.
We were in Albuquerque’s Casa Rondena Winery tasting room, partaking of five wine samples.

 
Also, the fifth member of our party, Zippy’s sister, took the photo (and was our designated driver).
So, there are lots of fives going on in this scene.  Okay?

We couldn’t move around much because there was a wedding about to start outside on the lovely vineyard grounds,

and one stressed-out employee behind the tasting counter was rude beyond belief,
and the vineyard label is (in my opinion) incredibly unattractive,  
but none of that stopped us from having four tasty (and one not-at-all tasty) wines plus a whole lot of laughs.
Wishing everyone a tasty weekend filled with laughter!
 
                    

My Top 70 for Bob Dylan’s Birthday

Bob Dylan turned 70 years old today and in honor of his birthday, I’m sharing 70 Dylan-related memories:

1) I joined the Columbia Record Club when I was a kid and bought lots of early Dylan records for not much money (because he was a Columbia artist), eventually defaulted on my membership and then had a collection agency after me until they figured out I was a minor and they couldn’t touch me.

2) I kept a harmonica in my car to practice while stuck in L.A. rush hour traffic but never advanced beyond basic discordance.

3) When I was a kid, I took over the care of my younger brother’s gerbils and renamed them Frankie Lee and Judas Priest.

4) After having trash and beer thrown at me for singing and dancing during a Dylan concert in Orange County, CA (otherwise known as Behind the Orange Curtain), I vowed never to attend another concert in the OC, a promise I kept.

5) I once dreamed of ex-wife Sara Dylan and woke up really indignant about Bob treating her so poorly.

6) I used to work for a man who shared a rabbi with Bob Dylan, and contemplated staking out the temple for a sneak peek.

7) I had a class at CSU-Northridge with a young man who was friends with one of Dylan’s sons (Jakob?) and who used to hang out with the son and listen to Blonde on Blonde, an album my classmate described as “Okay.”

8) When I was a high school freshman, I gave a speech on Bob Dylan; the teacher was thrilled but the other kids could not have cared less.

9) The first time I ever saw Dylan in concert my seat was behind the stage but Dylan turned and played to us so it was a great experience.

10) My parents allowed me to miss a day of school to get those tickets.

11) Maybe because I’m not a fan of organized religion, I’ve never been offended by Dylan’s swings between Judaism and Christianity and back again.

12) I’ve logged a lot of miles on my treadmill running to Highway 61 Revisited (although “Ballad of a Thin Man” kinda takes the pep out of my step).

13) I listened to Street Legal the other night for old time’s sake but had to quit after a few songs because it made me miss best friend S (who loved the album) too much; I especially wished he was still alive so I could point out the album is highly overwrought.

14) At the last minute, I bought a single ticket to see Dylan at the L.A. Forum and got a pretty decent seat but after he played a couple songs, he said he wouldn’t continue until the seats in front were filled so I rushed the stage and spent the rest of the night a few feet from the stage.

15) I also went alone to see Dylan at the Filmore in Denver and made friends with some people who, for years afterward, invited me to their birthday parties.

16) I named my cat Isis.

17) I bought my copy of Desire at the JC Penney in Portage, Wisconsin, and took it back because the record skipped.

18) Literary agent Edward Necarsulmer IV is a huge Dylan fan and I used to think that meant we were destined to be agent and client, but I’ve since deduced that is not true.

19) Wildebeest loves nothing more than to disparage Bob and his rhyming ways.

20) When I was in high school, Doonesbury included a series of strips featuring Dylan and I taped those strips inside my locker door but was so eager to vacate the premises on the last day of school, I left them behind.

21) Zippy used to quietly pooh-pooh Dylan’s talent but now recognizes his channeling-from-beyond genius.

22) Let’s face it: Joan Baez has aged much more gracefully than Dylan.

23) I was sad on my birthday, November 25, 1976, because I knew Dylan was playing at The Band’s final concert at the Winterland, San Francisco, while I was in Pardeeville, Wisconsin, watching a blizzard out the window.

24) I later went to a matinee showing of Scorsese’s documentary of that concert (The Last Waltz) and smoked cigarettes in the nearly empty theater. I know!

25) Sometimes waiting for Dylan tickets was more fun than the actual concert (see #4), even when I burned my ankle on a motorcycle muffler getting a ride across the immense parking lot to the port-a-potty.

26) There are few more dull or predictable discussions than those focused on the quality of Dylan’s voice.

27) I think the Rolling Stone panel missed the boat by not putting more Planet Waves songs in its top 70 list.

28) I used to be in a critique group with Dylan’s lighting guy who went into instant panic, covering his ears and yelling, “I don’t want to know!” when I mentioned a friend with a bootleg tape.

29) I once spent about three hours trying to get through on a call-in show to ask Dylan who’s saying “Yes!” in these “Isis” lyrics:
“You gonna stay?”
“If you want me to.”
“Yes!”
(See, it’s not clear if it’s “If you want me to, yes!” or “Yes!” as in “I want you to stay.”)

30) It’s safe to say that over the years I’ve driven some people away with my Dylan fascination.

31) A former boyfriend didn’t believe I knew all the words to “Isis” but after I performed it for him, complete with gestures, he had a (short-lived) light of respect in his eyes.

32) Zebu had the chance to see Dylan at Red Rocks a few years back but didn’t have much fun because (1) there was a thick cloud of pot smoke in the crowd and (2) he couldn’t recognize any of the songs.

33) The first novel I wrote has an incredibly original storyline about a teenage girl who loves Dylan but is teased by friends and classmates for that love.

34) My critique-lighting-guy friend invited me to sit at the light board during a Dylan concert but I declined because it was soon after September 11 and I couldn’t face being in a crowded venue right then.

35) In 1982, my sister and I went to PEACE SUNDAY in the Rose Bowl to hear Dylan and Baez (among many) but the concert was sold out so we stood next to chain-link fence while guy inside licked his hand-stamp and pressed it on my hand so I could then lick and pass along stamp to my sister.

36) I’m one of two people I know who saw the looong and oh-so-confusing Renaldo and Clara (and the other person is the guy who went with me).

37) Zippy and I watched the Dylan flick, Hearts of Fire, which is one of the worst movies made. Ever.

38) However, trust me when I say Dylan’s pantry scene from the movie Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid in which “Alias” reads aloud the labels on canned vegetables is hysterical.

39) Early on in our relationship, Zippy said the soundtrack to Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid was his favorite Dylan album because it was mostly instrumentals (see #21).

40) I strongly disagree with Keith Richards’ statement about Dylan’s “Girl from the North Country” being better suited to a solo than the duet with Johnny Cash.

41) When I try to imitate Dylan I always end up sounding like Joan Baez imitating Dylan on her version of “Simple Twist of Fate” which means it’s really me doing Baez doing Dylan.

42) A long time ago I told a friend if Dylan ever did a commercial, I’d take all my Dylan albums into the street and destroy them but here I am post-Victoria’s Secret and Bob-knows-what-else, and my albums are intact.

43) I went to the record store the day Empire Burlesque was released to buy it and another customer commented on how refreshing it was to see someone so loyal to an artist, but in retrospect, I have to question that loyalty because the album has some definite clunkers.

44) I once called information to get Bob’s home phone number.

45) I never feel like I’m in the mood to listen to “The Time’s They Are A-Changin,’” but then I hear it and am blown away all over again.

46) Sometime in the last decade, Dylan was on the Grammy’s singing a song that everyone later ridiculed as being unintelligible but within a couple mumbles I identified it as “Masters of War.”

47) When I was a teen, Dylan was scheduled to be on Soundstage and I talked to my parents ahead of time about watching it when it came on late that night, but in a fit of absolute bullshit parenting, they didn’t let me.

48) My father-in-law named his dog “Dillon” after the Gunsmoke character but in my mind’s eye whenever I said his name, it was “Dylan.”

49) I was always of the opinion that music class ruined “Blowin’ in the Wind” for a lot of young people much the same way The Scarlet Letter was ruined by high school English classes until a friend told me “Blowin’ in the Wind” holds a special place in his heart due to learning all the words in Sunday School.

50) Way back when in Wisconsin, I listened to Dylan’s early song, “Highway 51” but, being the spatially-challenged person I am, didn’t make the connection with the Hwy 51 running past my hometown.

51) If not for Bob Dylan, I’m not sure I’d know Woody Guthrie’s work (or Arlo’s!), or Phil Ochs or Dave van Ronk.

52) I’m not usually a fan of “greatest hits” compilations but if not for Dylan’sGreatest Hits Vol 2, I wouldn’t know one of my all-time favorite Dylan songs “When I Paint My Masterpiece.”

53) It was hard times when I lived in a tiny North Hollywood apartment but I remember smiling in the dark as I listened to Bob’s laugh when he messed up the opening to “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream.”

54) Wildebeest just stuck his head in the room to see what I’m working on and when I told him he said, “70? That’s a lot of memories. You really love Bob Dylan, I think Bob Dylan’s a goober.”

55) A friend and I went to the Dylan/Grateful Dead concert at Anaheim Stadium and I swear Jerry’s guitar solo on “All Along the Watchtower” was so incredible it flustered Bob into singing the same chorus twice (but I seem to be the only one who noticed).

56) I have another friend who won’t ever let me forget that on the day of a general admission Dylan concert at the Filmore in Denver, I “forced her out of the car on Colfax” because of road work and detours so she could get in line while I looked for a place to park, and then we ended up arriving at the line at the same time.

57) We were about halfway back on the floor during that show with the misfortune of standing behind a basketball team, but then “Cold Irons Bound” started and I danced and didn’t care about limited visibility.

58) When Wildebeest was a baby he’d calm when listening to Blood on the Tracks except for “Idiot Wind;” he really disliked that song.

59) Wildebeest and Zebu just told me something I can neither confirm nor deny: when they were little and would screw around at the dinner table, I’d get pissed off and send them downstairs while I cleaned up the kitchen, “Tombstone Blues” blasting (“I’m in the kitchen with the tombstone blues”).

60) All I can say in my defense is “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry.”

61) Actress Jenna Elfman reportedly lost her virginity while listening to “Lay Lady Lay” but I can’t listen to Dylan while having sex because, for me, there’s no tuning him out; I can’t write while he’s playing, either.

62) Hard Rain is a phenomenal live album, and don’t even try talking to me about the distortion and poor sound quality.

63) If it weren’t for the Rolling Thunder Revue, I wouldn’t know about T-Bone Burnett and Mick Ronson and Ronee Blakley and Scarlet Rivera.

64) Come to think of it, I started reading Crawdaddy magazine in hopes of finding a mention of Dylan, and was introduced to all sorts of musicians along the way.

65) From the very start my attraction to Dylan had as much to do with his use of language as the music and while I never mastered the guitar or harmonica or singing, or anything even remotely musical, I consider him a huge influence.

66) I still haven’t landed in Publisher’s Marketplace but it’s cool Bob’s gotten deals for turning songs into picture books; however, it’ll be hard to take if he sells a middle-grade before me.

67) I can’t remember ever putting on a Bob Dylan record and deciding it wasn’t what I wanted to hear; no matter the mood, it’s always a good time for a little Dylan.

68) And with his catalog, a little Dylan can easily turn into a marathon listening session.

69) So many people were outraged when he went electric and, in their minds, turned his back on “the movement,” but Dylan’s Dylan no matter whether he’s singing about a miner or a clueless reporter or the exquisite pain of a breaking heart.

70) When I listen to Joan Baez sing about Dylan in “Diamonds and Rust,” I want to weep for her lost love but then “Winds of the Old Days” plays and I’m in awe of her graciousness:
“singer or savior, it was his to choose
which of us knows what was his to lose”

Go Well, Be Well

                 

This one is for Zippy and  !!!

(Agnes is dressed as Wellness Woman, dispensing advice on healthy living . . .)

AGNES by Tony Cochran

Such is the danger of three-chord songs.

             

Fort Wildebeest

Yesterday morning Zippy went to the basement to feed Lebowski the cat, and found this:


© Zippy 2011

Wildebeest and friends (all 17 years-old) came home on Friday night and built a fort to sleep in.
It all began with one sheet and a piece of yarn.

This makes me smile.

Mahalo

             

Tomorrow morning (Saturday), Zippy, Wildebeest, Zebu, and I
are flying to Oahu for spring break.

We haven’t had a family vacation in about three years
because the last one we took (car trip) was a nightmare.
Arguing.
Sullenness.
More arguing.
Refusal to participate.
Bad attitudes and all-around-unpleasantness.

Zippy and I swore we’d never vacation with them again.

Well, we’ve reached a new place (as a family) and now get along much better.

All of us.
So I suggested we try one more family vacation, this time to the destination of the kids’ choice.
They wanted Australia or London (which we couldn’t afford) and then agreed on Hawaii.
 
We’re renting an out-of-the-way place on the beach and bringing lots of sun block.
 
I’ve got high hopes for our time together, and believe we’ll create lots of good memories.
In the meanwhile, I wish everyone a splendid week filled with all-around pleasantness.
 

                                                                                            image from morguefile.com

ALOHA!

Friday Five: The March Madness Edition

      

1) Yesterday Zippy, Wildebeest, Zebu, and I watched four men’s college basketball games
from our seats in the rafters and

 
2) had great fun
 
3) despite the sound of our brackets exploding with upsets (we’re looking at you, Louisville!),
 
4) and are now looking forward to Gonzaga beating BYU on Saturday 
 
5) because in our collective opinion, BYU’s only redeeming quality is having female cheerleaders 
who sometimes do back-flips when a player makes a free-throw.

   

                                                    image from morguefile.com


Keep your eyes on those dreams and have a grand weekend!  

               

                  

Nature Nurtures

         

When I start to panic and worry, I look to Nature for my calm.
Saturday I ran on the trails with Zippy while a Red-tailed Hawk soared above.

Today, I return to last week’s Starling visit for solace.
As long as there are birds in my life, I can find the courage to carry on.

                                                                                                                               © Tracy Abell 2011

And because I’ve been reading THE ANNOTATED CHARLOTTE’S WEB:

I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority.

                                                                                     ~ E. B. White
                     

Coco’s Nightmare

              

Coco: Last night Zippy had a dream Tracy let a bunch of otters into the house.
Apparently, I didn’t much like them.

                                                                                                                                                    © Wildebeest 2011

Can you blame me?


                                                     image from morguefile.com                                                                                                               
                       

On Wisconsin!

        

Yesterday I blogged about my preparations for
the Denver rally held in support of Wisconsin workers.

Today I am back with a full report.

The good news: the weather was beautiful and lots of sane people showed up.

The bad news: a bunch of ill-informed, resentful people also made an appearance
(one person even self-identifying as an extremist):

Here’s the very first photo I took from the lower steps (apparently at the exact moment
everyone’s arms got tired and they lowered their signs):

I got there a couple minutes late and was on the outer fringes of main crowd and speeches, 
but my little sign was an immediate hit:

(I was interviewed by Jonathan Brown of NPR/CPR
but have not tracked down his report so don’t know if I made the cut.)

However, not everyone understood by my sign that I supported workers and their
right to collective bargaining.  When I walked silently past the anti-union crowd on my
way out, one man said about my sign, "That’s a good one."  I was stunned until
I looked at my photos later on and saw this:

(And yes, those are Colorado State Patrol officers.
They formed a line between the groups, appearing simultaneously bored and tense).

Here’s a sampling of the support and goodwill flowing from Colorado to Wisconsin
(and other states preparing for their own union-busting assaults) . . .

      

          
  

      

And, perhaps the day’s most compelling argument:

It was a good day and I’m so glad I rallied.
Zippy joined me, and we ran into other friends (Happy Birthday again, Ron!)

This fight is for the heart and soul of workers’ rights,
and I hope the brave people in Wisconsin don’t back down 
in the face of Governor Walker’s ideological war on unions.
(Lest there be any doubt this stand-off has nothing to do with budget deficits and everything to do
with ideology, follow the story regarding billionaire Tea Party-backer David Koch and Gov Walker).

Also, please remember: The unions early-on accepted the wage and benefits reductions; 
they are only demanding their right to collective bargaining.

Wisconsin, we are with you!
All good thoughts headed your way . . .