Go Venus Go

I am really excited about Wimbledon this year. I think Serena Williams plays fabulous tennis, but I've felt a little sorry for Venus ever since her little sister took over the spotlight. I think playing a younger sibling would definitely affect an older sibling more than a younger one. (Probably because I am an older sibling). She'll have a tough match tomorrow against Maria Sharipova, but I'm glad to see Venus having such a fantastic tournament so far. She's quieter, wiser and older. Three great reasons to root for her.

Where is that publicist when you need her?

I have never been a Tom Cruise fan. He bores me as an actor. So I have been watching with a hidden (until now) bit of delight as his mouth slowly starts to nibble away at his acting career.

I don't like to knock anyone's "religion", and I don't know enough about scientology to comment on. I just think it should be a private matter, no matter how famous you are. I can only guess as to why he thinks that all of a sudden, he can spout forth all of these very strong but slightly crazy opinions about things without his fan base sitting up and taking notice. I mean, yes, he's stirring up all kinds of publicity, but is ALL publicity GOOD publicity? How does he have time to read up on the history of psychology (or was it psychiatry?), including pouring over research papers on Ritalin, Prozac and other prescription drugs? I can think of alot more worthwhile things to do with his time in between movies. Like looking in a mirror and saying over and over to himself, "I am not that special".

The saddest part of all of this is Katie Holmes, who appears to be totally brainwashed. Can you imagine the horror of sitting through dinner after dinner listening to him go on and on? If she had half a brain cell to begin with, that little voice that tells women to "run away, run away quickly" when they're on a first date SHOULD have kicked in. I only hope that she snaps out of it like Nicole and Penelope did before the best years of her life are gone.

Anyway, if anyone besides Tom was in War of the Worlds, I would probably be interested. As it is, I will search out a less boring actor to go see this summer. Like maybe Russell Crowe.

Zuzu

I have been feeding a cat where I work for four years or so. I named her Zuzu after Jimmy Stuart's little girl in It's A Wonderful Life, because I started feeding her around the holidays. She was solid black with greenish/yellowish eyes. She was not a people cat at first and wouldn't let me pet her. I took her to the vet and got her spayed and he gave her shots. So after four years of seeing each other once a day, almost every day, we'd gotten to be pretty good friends. Sometimes she didn't even seem to want to eat whenever I'd go outside and call her. She just wanted me to pet her and talk to her, which I loved doing. It was such a nice break from work problems and people to be able to hang out with her for 10 minutes or so. I always arranged for other people to feed her if I went out of town. I always worried about her when it got really cold, or if there were bad thunderstorms. But she seemed to be a survivor - battling all of these things, along with neighborhood dogs and bigger male cats, in her quiet sweet way.

A week ago last Wednesday was the last time I've seen her. It's not like her to dissappear for a few days at a time. I think once before, I didn't see her for 4 or 5 days. But for about the past year she's been around between 9 and 10 in the morning, every day. I drove the neighborhood calling for her over the first weekend. The next Monday, I called the animal shelter. They had a black female with green eyes, so I held my breath and drove over, only to be unbelievably saddened when it wasn't her. She seems to have just disappeared. Everyone is telling me that cats are like that, one day they'll just decide to let someone else feed them for awhile. I'm trying really hard to hope that she's fine, and that she's being well taken care of with food and water during this so far brutal summer. But I really, really miss her and wish she'd come back. My work day isn't the same without her sweet little face.

Ommmmmmm Ommmmmmmm - Oh forget it

I have been enjoying the physical benefits of Yoga for about 4 years now. I had a video tape that I would do once every couple of weeks that was considered advanced. Because I sort of learned backwards, there are parts I've never been able to manage. But recently, I decided I would try to get into it a little more. I subscribed to Yoga Journal magazine and stepped up my practice to twice a week. Thanks to the magazine explaining exactly how to do the poses and which muscles to work, I've become much more flexible in a short period of time. I'm working courage towards actually taking a class, but I always find myself busy on Saturday mornings.

I'm also amazed at how much more there is to Yoga. The work out benefits are just part of it. The health benefits are astronomical, with certain poses helping with back pain, bad digestion, headaches, sinus issues - the list goes on and on. It's really a way of life, and that's something I never knew from watching my dinky tape. I am making an effort to follow some of the ideology, like trying to think nice thoughts about and find value in everyone in your life. But the thing that I just haven't been able to "get" is the breathing and meditation part of it all. I am not someone who sits still well, in fact if I'm sitting still, I'm probably asleep.

I try to sit for five minutes, just five minutes after I'm done with all of the poses, but I rarely make it. I jump up and onto my next task. But this is such a big part of it all. I have this feeling that I'm missing the big picture-that a much better feeling of peace and contentment is waiting for me, if I would only slow down a little and do my deep breathing. There just isn't enough time in the day for meditation, if you ask me. If only I could multi-task and do something else while I'm just sitting. Then it wouldn't seem like such a waste of time!

Music from My Dear Dad

Here I go thinking too much about how I got to be me again. But I have to give equal time to my Dad.

I always thought it was kind of odd that my parents did not get into rock and roll. No Buddy Holly, Elvis or Beatles for these two. But my Dad got closer than my Mom. This list will be a bit different from my Mom's, because with Dad it was more about getting to spend time with him. I remember my Mom letting me stay home from church some Sundays just so I could hang out with him. His job was in retail when we were little and he normally worked 6 days a week - sometimes pretty long hours. So I was always so excited to have a whole Sunday morning with him all to myself. I would help him make pancakes for breakfast, then I'd play while he read a book or the Sunday paper. Or he'd work out while I read this old set of history books. When I got a little older, he'd set up a work space on the dining room table and let me help him with whatever paperwork he was trying to catch up on. But we'd always listen to music. Here are some of the artists that bring to mind the fondest memories of spending time with my Dad on Sunday mornings:

Jim Croce. Definitely a life that ended too soon. I Got A Name made it on my "Top 50 Songs of All Times" list. (To be discussed in a later entry).

John Denver. Laugh if you will, but the man could sing. And write some beautiful songs. The record Dad had was a Greatest Hits, with Grandma's Feather Bed, Thank God I'm a Country Boy, and Annie's Song being the ones I remember from back then.

The Ventures 50th Anniversary Album - I guess they're known for their instrumental surf music, but this double-record had Beatles songs, Neil Diamond, and all kinds of hits from the 60's. This was actually my first introduction to Beatles music, and I didn't find out until years later that someone did these songs before The Ventures, and even sang on them! My Dad loves the songs that the Beatles wrote, he just doesn't like hearing the Beatles sing them.

The Carpenters. I think my Dad had 4 or 5 albums of the Carpenters. This seems like a good time to bring up that although my Dad has a lovely singing voice (imagine Larry Gatlin, but not so brash), he loves to whistle along with songs. He has the prettiest whistle I've ever heard. And his whistle shined the brightest on these Carpenters albums. One of his favorite songs was a cover of Leon Russell's Song For You. Once again, I never knew someone else originated this song until Julie made a mix tape for me for Christmas with Leon himself singing it. His version would make my top 3 songs. The words are so sweet-and it's sung straight from the heart.

The Brothers Four. My Dad loved folk music like this. I especially remember a jaunty little melody called Tie Me Kangeroo Down Sport. Has anyone seen A Mighty Wind - Christopher Guest's parody of the Folk Movement in the early 60's? It made me laugh, but maybe not as hard as people whose parents didn't listen to this music. Some respect for the genre kept me from wanting to make fun of it too much.

Bread. I've saved the best for last. If you've never heard of this band, I strongly urge you to check them out. I think they are possibly the most underrated band from the 70's. They were definitely laying the groundwork for bands like The Eagles. I'm not that fond of the sappier numbers (like If, one of those overplayed wedding songs), but songs like Everything I Own, Look What You've Done and Mother Freedom are good over and over to me. I have their 2 CD Retrospective-and would have to bring it along if I was going to a deserted island.

These days, Dad listens to alot of country now, which I will forgive him for. In fact, we danced to Leanne Womack's I Hope You Dance at my wedding, and when he started singing it to me I cried. It was one of the sweetest moments of my life.

This is just a small sampling of some of my Dad's influences. But they are the songs that will always make me pause and smile and think of Sundays and Dad. I still love to hear that whistle, coming from the back of my parents' house. So any fathers out there reading this, know how much it means to your kids to just spend time with them doing nothing. Don't think that they have to be entertained. Just put on some music, sit back, and enjoy each other.

Jose Canseco revisited

Jav and I went to the Ranger Game against the Braves last night, and sat in the first row of the home run porch (with glove in tow, of course). This was the first time either of us had sat on the porch, and we really liked being able to see those miraculous outfield catches up close. Gary Matthews Jr. made an unbelievable play. He caught a fly ball while running and looking over his shoulder for the first out, then made an unhuman throw to first to get Julio Franco out, who had run to second thinking the ball had gone over Matthews' head. Even though the Rangers lost, we were really enjoying our ballgame experience.

Until

The big dumb drunk hillbilly decided to sit a few seats down from us. He was either very sunburned or had turned a permanent shade of ruddy from all the alcohol. He kept spitting, anywhere, every 10 seconds or so. He kept trying to talk to everyone within hearing proximity, bragging about how he usually sits behind home plate, but tonight thought he'd "see what it was like in the cheap seats". He tried to get everyone with caps on to put them on "rally style". And although he never tried to talk to Jav and I, the anger I started having towards this person almost ruined the whole night for me. I started praying that someone, on either team, would hit a home run that would hit him on the head and knock him cold. But no such luck. I really did ponder what I could do to make this guy go away. I wanted to hit him, but knew that wasn't a real option, just one of those imaginary ones that makes you feel better for a few minutes. We couldn't really get security down there, because he technically wasn't doing anything that bad. What could we have done? Other than try to tune him out (impossible) until after the game, then trudge to the car with a stomach ache because my nachos weren't sitting well after all of that anger.

I guess there are times in life when you just have to put up with really annoying people.

36 candles?

We were flipping through channels last night and found Sixteen Candles. And although it was edited (I'm sure Jake only said "Hug me" into the phone when Samantha's grandmother answered it in the middle of the night), it was still really fun to watch. "WE", the station it was on, was calling it a chick flick. I really take issue with this, both because I remember watching it just after high school with all my female AND male friends (that was such a fun Lubbock road trip), and because my husband was laughing alot harder than me while watching last night.

I heard this past Thursday that they are planning a sequal to the movie, and that Molly Ringwald had already signed on. I haven't researched to see if it's true, but how on earth are they going to do this? Are Samantha and Jake coping with marital problems and the pressure of having three kids? Does Anthony Michael Hall (was his name "Ted?-I should know this) come back and try to steal Samantha - claiming that he's always loved her and no one else? How about Long Duc Dong - has he moved on from his "Lec - Big Lec", and become a famous stock car driver? Does John Cusack decide this would be a good career move? I just can't see it. It seems like anything will ruin the innocent genius of the first film. I think Hollywood needs to come up with some originality and stop trying to rehash the classics. (Even though I will probably be one of the first to see "Willie Wonka". I'm such a hypocrite!)

This little light o'mine

Is anyone out there lucky enough to have fireflies in their yard? What wondrous little creatures! I get just as excited seeing one as I did when I was 5 years old. Maybe that's part of their appeal-they make you feel like a kid again. Added to the fact that you can only see them in early summer, and only during dusk, and I guess that makes them pretty special. Dusk has always been my favorite time of the day. In Texas, this means the quiet time between the locusts singing during the day and the katydids starting up at night. Before I lived in the "country", I never paid much attention to any of these things. I think I just had the mentality of "Eeeeeeuuuuuuwwwwww - bugs!" But now, they are as much a part of my summer as sprinklers and suntan oil. I love that my husband has become transformed and appreciates nature now in the same stages I went through. We are slowly starting our house hunt, and my main criteria is a big yard. I guess I'm hoping to hang onto some of the magic of this wilderness that surrounds us. In the meantime, you'll find me on the porch, sipping on a beer, watching the sun go down, and hoping to see that little spark of summer.

Me and my Stanley

Stanley with Bones, Zoe and Henry, and me

Sweet and stalwart Stanley

Once there was a girl who saw a stray dog in her neighborhood. He had been hurt and limped around with one back foot held up underneath him. But he was a handsome dog, and she started leaving food for him whenever she saw him roaming around, digging through people's trash to eat. After she had seen him four times in a week, she decided that God wanted her to have this dog. So with some help from her younger brother, she trapped the dog in her parents' backyard. It took some coaxing, but finally the dog ran to her open arms, and has not left her side since.

She named him Stanley, and slowly he started to help change her life. She was struggling in her marriage, trying to cope with a husband with alcoholism. Stanley allowed her to focus on something besides trying to "fix" her husband. Walking him every day allowed her to clear her head and feel less miserable. Stanley made her realize that not only did an innocent puppy not deserve physical and verbal abuse, but she didn't either.

She and Stanley stayed together all through the divorce, moving back home with her parents, and getting out on her own. There was some very low times during these years, but Stanley's Welcome Home!!! bark always made her feel better. His doggie smile and loyalty made her feel so loved, that she didn't feel loneliness after awhile.

By now there were more companions in the household. And with each addition, Stanley accepted them with patience and understanding. Even the cats! When Fred the kitten wandered into her driveway, no amount of coaxing from the girl could get him to come into the fenced part of her yard. But a couple of minutes with Stanley did the trick.

Even though Stanley was a mix (she finally determined he was Chow and Huskie), people would stop her on their walks and tell her what a beautiful dog he is. His golden color shined in the sun, and still does to this day, despite his age. His watchdog instincts were and are so good, that he barks if someone stays sitting too long at the stop sign outside of her house.

Stanley's biggest adjustment came when the girl finally met the man of her dreams. Stanley had always had trouble with men, because apparantly that's who had abused him when he was a puppy. But he adjusted to this new boyfriend who was spending so much time in her house, and the boyfriend was wonderful enough to adjust to Stanley and all of his friends.

The girl married the man of her dreams, and he started taking Stanley for runs and helping to feed him. They became fast friends. Stanley no longer had to worry about yelling and loud noises. This man was quiet and gentle, and took good care of the girl whose side he never leaves.

The girl realizes that Stanley has seen her through the lowest points in her life, and made it with her to the happiest time. He's loved her with all he has the entire time, and she's loved him right back. He's eleven years old now, and not a day goes by that the girl and the dog don't stop and share a moment, and realize how happy their life is because of each other.

I must have a Macsomething in my past

I love Scotland.

I had already painted a romantic view of the place in my head long before I ever set foot there. Maybe it was the tormented history, or the difficult terrain and climate. Or maybe it was because from pictures I'd seen, the place didn't seem to be affected by so-called progress. I loved to watch shows about it, and read books set there. My parents had given me a book about it for my birthday one year. I had such a quaint picture built up in my head, that even though I was excited beyond belief, I was actually a little worried when we decided to go there for our honeymoon. Well, the reality beat out those expectations. It is a beautiful place. We especially fell in love with the Highlands, where they still have Gaelic translations on the street signs. The people were warm and welcoming, and the weather was quite lovely (May is the driest month of the year). The terrain goes from rugged to pastoral, with farmlands and beaches never farther away than a walk. And lots of castles and sheep. The best part, though, is that it really seems like you've gone back in time.

I told Jav I want to go back for my 40th (yikes) birthday. Until then, we have to get by with little Scotch fixes from time to time. We're going to the Scottish Festival tomorrow, to eat Shepherd's Pie, watch the Highland Games competition and hear hootenanny-worthy bands, complete with requisite bagpipes. And see lots of men in kilts (at least that's one reason I'M going). But mainly to reminisce about our amazing trip.

One of my favorite authors right now is Ian Rankin, who has a series of Crime Fiction novels, all taking place in and around Edinburgh and starring Detective John Rebus. These are dark and realistic tales, but they are such good reads. And now I can actually picture many of the settings in the books, which is too cool.

Every day I think about Scotland at least once. I don't think I have any Scot in my ancestry, but it calls to me all the same. I'm not sure why. I just know I love it.