I took my Mom to Austin for a birthday trip this week. I didn't tell her where we were going - only that it was to a concert, outdoors, and to pack appropriately. We headed out down 35 Thursday afternoon, ran into some pretty nasty traffic once we got to Round Rock, checked in, ate dinner, and proceeded to try to find our way to an outdoor amphitheater called The Backyard. Luckily, we gave ourselves plenty of time because we got lost twice, then got stuck in more traffic, and finally found our way there. By this time I had told Mom about where we were going, because I wanted her to be as excited as I was. We trudged through the mud (it had rained the day before - lots), through the parking lot and made our way to our seats. At approximately 8:05, the living legend of Carole King walked out on stage, by herself, sat down at a grand piano and proceeded to charm and entertain us beyond belief for the next two hours.
The venue itself was just perfect. It was an unusually cool Texas evening, and we were treated to a pretty sunset in the background, followed by a clear night sky full of stars. There's not a bad seat in the house, considering it only holds 3000 people. There are trees surrounding the stage, and you can hear crickets and katydids in between sets. The audience was mostly over-40, but there were alot of mother-daughter sets, and parent-kid sets. The stage was set up to look like a living room, this being her "In My Living Room Tour". Couches, big overstuffed chairs and houseplants surrounded the piano.
As for the show, two other male musicians joined her occaisionally - one guitarist that she's performed with for years, and another guitarist singer/songwriter from Nashville. But it was mostly Carole - explaining what each song meant to her, or where it came from before performing it. One of the first things she said was that she was 63 - and I can only hope I look HALF that good when I'm that age. She's petite, and in great shape, and looks like she's in her forties. She was so relaxed and engaging - and seemed to be having the time of her life.
She had a good mix of classics with new songs. But all of the songs were great. I don't think the woman has a bad song in her. I had forgotten about the song she wrote for A League of Their Own. I didn't realize she wrote the Monkees' "Pleasant Valley Sunday", one of my favorite songs of all times. A highlight was a medley of all of her sixties hits - ending with a very slow version of "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?" I called my husband during that one, and he couldn't believe how good and close she sounded.
But the greatest part of this evening was that I got to take my Mom. She's not really a concert-goer, but we had made a pact years ago that if Carole King ever toured, we would get there, come hell or high water. Can you imagine my luck that she picked the day before my Mom's birthday to come to one of her two stops in Texas? (The other being Houston). We sang along to every word of "It's Too Late". We stood up and danced ourselves silly to "I Feel The Earth Move Under My Feet" and "The Locomotion". And we held onto each other and cried when she played "You've Got a Friend", both of us feeling so blessed to have each other and share such an unbelievably special moment.
We had trouble getting out of the parking lot (only one way in and out), almost got lost on the way home, and had to deal with a bunch of guys playing quarters in the hotel room next to us when we got back. But you could have thrown even more obstacles, boundaries or problems my way - and I would still have to say that every bit of it was worth the trip. It will always be one of the most special evenings of my life. Happy Birthday Mom!
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Friday, July 22, 2005
Photography as Art
About 4 years ago, I wandered into the old FW Modern Art Museum. This alone was a big deal for me. I was trying to do more things by myself, having recovered slightly from my divorce. I had never been very brave about going places alone, but I figured that museums were a good place to start. I'll never forget that day or the experience I had. I initially went there to browse their permanent collection of paintings. I took a wrong turn and ended up in their photography exhibit. I had never really gotten into photography, except for the Ansel Adams nature prints. But the pictures grabbed me and didn't let go. Most were black and white, some were of structures, like water towers (a series by Bernd and Hilla Becher), some of people's faces, or places I'd never seen (Laura Gilpin, in her series on the Southwest and the people who live there.) But they seemed to all have energy. I stayed over two hours that day, wandering back to my favorites and jotting down names on a little spiral notebook I had in my purse. Ever since then, I've loved going to photography exhibits.
I went to a lecture at the Amon Carter Museum where speakers were discussing different aspects of the color nature photos of Eliot Porter. The first speaker was an expert on the Sierra Club, who had used some of Porter's works in their battles to save wild places. He was discussing whether or not this was exploitation of the art, or of the nature it depicted, or both. The second speaker, and my favorite that day, was a professor of art history who contrasted and compared Porter's work with the black and white works of Ansel Adams, and the pop culture history that led up to the dramatic switch in photography from black and white to color. She also discussed about the fifties being the first era that began to consider photography as art.
But all of this was followed by a fascinating question and answer session at the end of the lecture regarding this issue of photography as art. Several members of the audience starting asking some great questions. Can it still be considered art if the photographer in any way "sets up" the picture beforehand? And what about the prints that are sold as "originals"? How do we know that a print came from the original negative? And what about the emergence of digital photography? There's so much editing you can do - will museums one day have exhibits of digital photos? Obviously, this was just on the beginning cusp of digital camera mania.
I don't have the answers to all of these questions, I just know that I love to look at the pictures taken through other people's lenses, and experience their vision. I like to wonder about the person in the picture-was he or she having a bad day? What had happened to them in life to cause them to have that particular expression on his or her face? Or with buildings - had it been abandoned long? What happened in history to cause it to look run down? For my birthday in a few weeks, we'll be going to an exhibit at the Dallas Museum of Art. It's called "Gordon Parks: Half Past Autumn". I've never heard of him, but I can't wait to see what he has to show me.
I went to a lecture at the Amon Carter Museum where speakers were discussing different aspects of the color nature photos of Eliot Porter. The first speaker was an expert on the Sierra Club, who had used some of Porter's works in their battles to save wild places. He was discussing whether or not this was exploitation of the art, or of the nature it depicted, or both. The second speaker, and my favorite that day, was a professor of art history who contrasted and compared Porter's work with the black and white works of Ansel Adams, and the pop culture history that led up to the dramatic switch in photography from black and white to color. She also discussed about the fifties being the first era that began to consider photography as art.
But all of this was followed by a fascinating question and answer session at the end of the lecture regarding this issue of photography as art. Several members of the audience starting asking some great questions. Can it still be considered art if the photographer in any way "sets up" the picture beforehand? And what about the prints that are sold as "originals"? How do we know that a print came from the original negative? And what about the emergence of digital photography? There's so much editing you can do - will museums one day have exhibits of digital photos? Obviously, this was just on the beginning cusp of digital camera mania.
I don't have the answers to all of these questions, I just know that I love to look at the pictures taken through other people's lenses, and experience their vision. I like to wonder about the person in the picture-was he or she having a bad day? What had happened to them in life to cause them to have that particular expression on his or her face? Or with buildings - had it been abandoned long? What happened in history to cause it to look run down? For my birthday in a few weeks, we'll be going to an exhibit at the Dallas Museum of Art. It's called "Gordon Parks: Half Past Autumn". I've never heard of him, but I can't wait to see what he has to show me.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Impulsive (Venus) versus contemplative (Mars)
We have been looking for a house for 2 months or so now. The first month was spent driving around neighborhoods, just getting a feel for where we might want to delve deeper. We have seen a total of 7 houses within the last three weeks or so. I have noticed a distinct difference in the way my husband and I approach looking at houses.
I can move through a house pretty quickly and immediately sum up whether or not I think it will aesthetically work for us, as far as how many bedrooms, living areas, and just the general flow of the house. I also can scan the shape of carpeting and flooring, kitchen applicances, size of rooms, and shape of the yard pretty quickly. My husband is much more deliberate, pausing to check for cracks in the walls or rips in the carpeting. Outside he goes all around the house checking the foundation. I know this is just as important, and because I know he will do it, I don't pay as much attention to this part. I'm too busy seeing the potential of what we COULD do with the house and/or yard. By the time we get back in our car to go to the next house, I've got my mind made up. Here's a typical conversation for us once we're in the car away from the realtor:
Me: "I absolutely LOVE this house."
Jav: "Yes, it seems pretty promising."
Me: "What do you mean 'promising'. This is our perfect house."
Jav: "How do you know that? We've only just seen it."
Me: "I don't care, I just know. WOMEN just know. I think we should make an offer."
Jav: "Are you crazy? We'll need to see it at least one more time before we can even consider buying."
Me: "But what if someone else gets our dream home? I'm not going to speak to you for a really long time if you let that happen."
And so on... It usually takes me the second look before I start seeing little (or possibly big) flaws, and realize that he was right. I've promised him that I will try not to do this anymore, that I will keep my wits about me, with my mouth shut and my eyes open. But how can I help it, if he just lacks vision? Why should I stay quiet while he moves slow as a tortoise, when some quick-as-a-hare couple could move in, while he's still pondering window seals and brick morter?
This is the first challenging thing we've been through in our marriage, and it doesn't help that this will be our first and possibly last house that we buy. The pressure's on!!
I can move through a house pretty quickly and immediately sum up whether or not I think it will aesthetically work for us, as far as how many bedrooms, living areas, and just the general flow of the house. I also can scan the shape of carpeting and flooring, kitchen applicances, size of rooms, and shape of the yard pretty quickly. My husband is much more deliberate, pausing to check for cracks in the walls or rips in the carpeting. Outside he goes all around the house checking the foundation. I know this is just as important, and because I know he will do it, I don't pay as much attention to this part. I'm too busy seeing the potential of what we COULD do with the house and/or yard. By the time we get back in our car to go to the next house, I've got my mind made up. Here's a typical conversation for us once we're in the car away from the realtor:
Me: "I absolutely LOVE this house."
Jav: "Yes, it seems pretty promising."
Me: "What do you mean 'promising'. This is our perfect house."
Jav: "How do you know that? We've only just seen it."
Me: "I don't care, I just know. WOMEN just know. I think we should make an offer."
Jav: "Are you crazy? We'll need to see it at least one more time before we can even consider buying."
Me: "But what if someone else gets our dream home? I'm not going to speak to you for a really long time if you let that happen."
And so on... It usually takes me the second look before I start seeing little (or possibly big) flaws, and realize that he was right. I've promised him that I will try not to do this anymore, that I will keep my wits about me, with my mouth shut and my eyes open. But how can I help it, if he just lacks vision? Why should I stay quiet while he moves slow as a tortoise, when some quick-as-a-hare couple could move in, while he's still pondering window seals and brick morter?
This is the first challenging thing we've been through in our marriage, and it doesn't help that this will be our first and possibly last house that we buy. The pressure's on!!
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Short little span of attention
My husband's in the other room watching Lost. We kept missing it during the regular season, so vowed to try to watch the reruns since we had so many people telling us how good it was. I lasted one episode. I've noticed as I've gotten older that I just can't sit down and watch TV like I used to. Part of this can be blamed on shoddy television shows. And another part of my problem is that I can't sit still for long. But I think I've discovered another problem.
I've become so used to multi-tasking that I can't focus on any one thing longer than about 10 minutes. I truly worry that one day, when we hopefully have children, that I will lose track of what they are saying to me after awhile while my mind drifts onto what we should have for dinner that night, or whether or not I'll have to do laundry before we run out of underwear. Part of my problem is hereditary - my mother's the same way, and does housework flitting from room to room partially finishing task after task. But I think the biggest culprit is the barrage of media that is forced down our throats these days. We have one main newscast going on, while a ticker of headlines runs underneath, along with the stock quotes along top, and now some news outlets have added moving media along the side too. This is ridiculous. One person cannot possibly read all of that stuff at the same time, unless you are between 11 and 19 years old. And now we have to check email all day long, check our cell phones for messages, voice and text. The distractions are neverending!!
Back to TV, though, I used to have all kinds of TV shows I watched regularly, but the only show I watch on a regular basis now is TLC's What Not To Wear. Sad, isn't it? For some reason it relaxes me to see people humiliated on TV for choosing paisley. I'll be interested in The Sopranos when they start up again, but we decided to cancel HBO in between seasons. Neither one of us was too interested in Six Feet Under this year (I think it's depressing - all that death). As far as comedies go, I started getting into Everybody Loves Raymond just before they decided to end the show. Nothing's been as good as Seinfeld, and probably nothing ever will be.
All of this TV wasteland has lead me back to my love of reading, which I had drifted away from for years. Luckily, a good book can still hold my attention longer than 10 minutes.
I've become so used to multi-tasking that I can't focus on any one thing longer than about 10 minutes. I truly worry that one day, when we hopefully have children, that I will lose track of what they are saying to me after awhile while my mind drifts onto what we should have for dinner that night, or whether or not I'll have to do laundry before we run out of underwear. Part of my problem is hereditary - my mother's the same way, and does housework flitting from room to room partially finishing task after task. But I think the biggest culprit is the barrage of media that is forced down our throats these days. We have one main newscast going on, while a ticker of headlines runs underneath, along with the stock quotes along top, and now some news outlets have added moving media along the side too. This is ridiculous. One person cannot possibly read all of that stuff at the same time, unless you are between 11 and 19 years old. And now we have to check email all day long, check our cell phones for messages, voice and text. The distractions are neverending!!
Back to TV, though, I used to have all kinds of TV shows I watched regularly, but the only show I watch on a regular basis now is TLC's What Not To Wear. Sad, isn't it? For some reason it relaxes me to see people humiliated on TV for choosing paisley. I'll be interested in The Sopranos when they start up again, but we decided to cancel HBO in between seasons. Neither one of us was too interested in Six Feet Under this year (I think it's depressing - all that death). As far as comedies go, I started getting into Everybody Loves Raymond just before they decided to end the show. Nothing's been as good as Seinfeld, and probably nothing ever will be.
All of this TV wasteland has lead me back to my love of reading, which I had drifted away from for years. Luckily, a good book can still hold my attention longer than 10 minutes.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Drool factor, today vs. yesterday
I love watching old movies. And I think we are hard-pressed to find leading men these days that have the same charisma and sex appeal that the stars of yesterday had. Here are some favorites of mine from days gone by:
Robert Mitchum - a manly man if there ever was one. Don't really like his movies much, but like watching him.
Christopher Plummer in The Sound of Music - I still want to marry him, in a huge church in Austria, followed by the longest train you've ever seen on a dress, with all the nuns watching and smiling.
Yul Brynner - who needs hair when you are shooting off charisma like this man could? The King and I, The Magnificent Seven.
Paul Newman - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Hud, etc... etc... And he STILL looks good.
Rossano Brazzi - younger in Summertime, with Katherine Hepburn...older in South Pacific. Just about the best looking man I've ever seen, and he's Italian!
I think there are a few of today's hotties that can carry the leading man tradition.
George Clooney - He has the smokey, manly quality, but he seems the same in every role he plays. Maybe that's not a bad thing?
Russell Crowe - ok, so maybe he's TOO manly sometimes. He seems pretty lovable in Cinderella Man. But it's his real-life persona that gets him in trouble.
Johnny Depp - Definitely off the scale on drool factor. Although I don't think his Charlie and the Chocolate Factory look is going to do anything for me.
And this is my strange one, but I add Toby McGuire to this list. He may be a bit diminutive, and his voice hasn't quite dropped yet, but his eyes are the kind you could lost in.
Any thoughts out there?
Robert Mitchum - a manly man if there ever was one. Don't really like his movies much, but like watching him.
Christopher Plummer in The Sound of Music - I still want to marry him, in a huge church in Austria, followed by the longest train you've ever seen on a dress, with all the nuns watching and smiling.
Yul Brynner - who needs hair when you are shooting off charisma like this man could? The King and I, The Magnificent Seven.
Paul Newman - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Hud, etc... etc... And he STILL looks good.
Rossano Brazzi - younger in Summertime, with Katherine Hepburn...older in South Pacific. Just about the best looking man I've ever seen, and he's Italian!
I think there are a few of today's hotties that can carry the leading man tradition.
George Clooney - He has the smokey, manly quality, but he seems the same in every role he plays. Maybe that's not a bad thing?
Russell Crowe - ok, so maybe he's TOO manly sometimes. He seems pretty lovable in Cinderella Man. But it's his real-life persona that gets him in trouble.
Johnny Depp - Definitely off the scale on drool factor. Although I don't think his Charlie and the Chocolate Factory look is going to do anything for me.
And this is my strange one, but I add Toby McGuire to this list. He may be a bit diminutive, and his voice hasn't quite dropped yet, but his eyes are the kind you could lost in.
Any thoughts out there?
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Buried treasure
The house we live in was built in 1928. During the first spring I lived here, I made a wonderful discovery. After a strong rain, little bits and pieces of glassware and dishes would be washed up to the surface of the yard.
At first this baffled me. I wondered if someone had an argument and threw all their wife's dishes out the window to be spiteful. Or if someone had been collecting different colored bottles, and one day tired of them and hedonistically shattered them in the yard. But I didn't just find the pieces in one particular place, it was all over the yard, mostly towards the back of the house. This was quite a mystery to me for a couple of years, until I read in a book that back before towns had organized trash pickups, people would bury their trash in the backyard.
I started keeping the more distinctively colorful pieces of glass, and the pieces that had been parts of a set of dishes. There's a recurring pink floral pattern that I find comes up pretty frequently. And just this week, I found what looks like a chuck of Fiestaware, in a beautiful aqua color.
Anita Shreve wrote a book called Sea Glass, named for a character who starts collecting bits of glass from the sand as she walked along the beach. (I haven't read it). But wouldn't it be great to take these little pieces of history and create some stories around them? Who did the floral dishes belong to? Did they move away, or just replace them with a prettier pattern? What was the world like for them at that time? Was a war going on? The stories would piece together, bit by bit, the lives of the people who lived here.
Maybe I should pick out something colorful, break it and bury it for the next residents. And they can wonder what I was like.
At first this baffled me. I wondered if someone had an argument and threw all their wife's dishes out the window to be spiteful. Or if someone had been collecting different colored bottles, and one day tired of them and hedonistically shattered them in the yard. But I didn't just find the pieces in one particular place, it was all over the yard, mostly towards the back of the house. This was quite a mystery to me for a couple of years, until I read in a book that back before towns had organized trash pickups, people would bury their trash in the backyard.
I started keeping the more distinctively colorful pieces of glass, and the pieces that had been parts of a set of dishes. There's a recurring pink floral pattern that I find comes up pretty frequently. And just this week, I found what looks like a chuck of Fiestaware, in a beautiful aqua color.
Anita Shreve wrote a book called Sea Glass, named for a character who starts collecting bits of glass from the sand as she walked along the beach. (I haven't read it). But wouldn't it be great to take these little pieces of history and create some stories around them? Who did the floral dishes belong to? Did they move away, or just replace them with a prettier pattern? What was the world like for them at that time? Was a war going on? The stories would piece together, bit by bit, the lives of the people who lived here.
Maybe I should pick out something colorful, break it and bury it for the next residents. And they can wonder what I was like.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
My Fourth of July Wish
I wish that other Americans would try to understand that even though I am against war, I pray for our troops to make it home safely, and am grateful of all veterans, past and present, for the freedoms they have made possible.
I wish that other Americans who have complaints about what is going on in our goverment would stop the finger-pointing and name-calling and instead start to write letters to local councils, state legislators, or the US Congress, or get involved somehow. This seems a much more positive way to bring about change for the better.
I wish that every eligible citizen would vote.
I wish that our representatives in Congress could stop tyring to prove that their party is better, or that the other party is worse, and find common ground more often in order to get things accomplished.
I wish that local governments could rally against developers who clear cut trees, especially old growth trees.
I wish that the Federal Government would get really serious about research of alternative energy sources.
I wish that the traditional American spirit of conquering every single inch of wilderness to use for human consumption would fade, and a new appreciation for what made this country beautiful centuries ago would flourish.
I wish that all Americans could find respect for the environment.
Have a happy and safe Fourth!
I wish that other Americans who have complaints about what is going on in our goverment would stop the finger-pointing and name-calling and instead start to write letters to local councils, state legislators, or the US Congress, or get involved somehow. This seems a much more positive way to bring about change for the better.
I wish that every eligible citizen would vote.
I wish that our representatives in Congress could stop tyring to prove that their party is better, or that the other party is worse, and find common ground more often in order to get things accomplished.
I wish that local governments could rally against developers who clear cut trees, especially old growth trees.
I wish that the Federal Government would get really serious about research of alternative energy sources.
I wish that the traditional American spirit of conquering every single inch of wilderness to use for human consumption would fade, and a new appreciation for what made this country beautiful centuries ago would flourish.
I wish that all Americans could find respect for the environment.
Have a happy and safe Fourth!
Thursday, June 30, 2005
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.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
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.
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.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, June 24, 2005
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!
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!
Sunday, June 19, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, June 13, 2005
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!)
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!)
Saturday, June 11, 2005
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.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, June 03, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, May 30, 2005
The little guy didn't make it
We went to Bergeron's to rent movies for our Memorial Day Marathon on Saturday, and they are going out of business. They're selling all of their inventory and closing up. I was so sad, I couldn't think straight. We didn't ask why, just told them how sorry we were. It could be because of Mr. Bergeron's poor health, or it could be because the location they choose really didn't end up being a very good decision. I think Old Handley was on the verge of becoming a vibrant part of East Fort Worth when they moved there. But some of the surrounding businesses have closed since they moved in, and the area is getting a little run down again. But I'm sure the biggest culprit is Blockbuster.
We are currently searching for another neighborhood rental store, but I don't think there's one close to us.
Maybe it's time to try Netflix, but that really isn't going to make me feel better about the end of Bergeron's.
We are currently searching for another neighborhood rental store, but I don't think there's one close to us.
Maybe it's time to try Netflix, but that really isn't going to make me feel better about the end of Bergeron's.
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