and the world will live as one...
i see london, i see france,
i see moonbeams disco dance.
some hear sea and waves.
but for me, my friends, the seashells, spin tales and sagas on par with atwood and irving.
on any day a magazine moose becomes my afternoon confident.
how is he the only one so far who understands?
we later go for a bike ride in the andes.
each morning my lushy, warm backyard awakens like a wave unfurls:
piece by piece its heartbeat rouses and grows stronger; the beast and i make our rounds to our pals, the flowers, bugs and trees, offering them coffee and croissants.
my tub, my fortress in the forest of fairies, conceals me from the dragons and ogres wanted me to drink the local witch's kool-aid brew.
hidden and safe, i stop up leaks of doubt and floods of fear. my hoover dam is a conscience clear and an open heart.
beast by my side, petals lapping in rosy unison round the basin, candles flickering in time to the peaceful ballet of the nighttime nymphs who prepare the house for sleep.
fairy tales do come true.
my evening crew takes watch. keeping vigil over a bedtime that is all too often elusive and full of fret.
drowsy drunk on the night jasmine piping up through the bedroom window, my bumble bee brain begins to slow down.
i can hear the footsteps of mr. sandman. off to dreamland i go....let the true fantasies begin.
you may say i'm a dreamer....i hope someday you'll join me.
nightstand
after a dry spell i'm finally back in lust with the written word.
silly me for straying from those who have proved so loyal to me time and again.
my heart thumps a bit heavier as the pages i've read rival the number of pages i have left to read.
what next?
how do i continue my evening tryst?
according to mrs burns this was amazing.
any other suggestions?
also how are you all doing in your march madness brackets?
i'm hoping for a 'crime and punishment' upset. but the odds are on jay gatsby.
personally, i think he's paying for votes.
you can vote here.
kreativ blogger
i'm sure there was some sort of mistake.
i'm so not worthy of such an award,
but, in what i suspect was copious amount of black tar heroin consumption,
the divine deborah of dumbwit tellher bestowed the very generous kreativ blogger badge upon moi.
to say i have procrastinated is putting it mildly: she gifted me march 1st.
tis how i roll. i'm still sending out wedding invitations, and we're coming up on our 2nd year anniversary.
i tend to fall behind.
part of my hesitance has been the job of summoning up 7 personal items of substance and circumstance to impart upon, you, my loveliest of readers.
i can easily give you 7 things that are annoying and compulsive. but the former......i gots nuttin.
rather than try to dazzle i will go for the informative route. these may not be sparkly, antic facts, but all are true and differentiate me from the all the other mouthy, half-japanese/half caucasian, childless, compulsive eating, newport beach housewives around here.
1. i am terrified i will be the worst mother ever. we're talking joan crawford style wretched. i'm in love with a baby i haven't even conceived. but i'm deathly afraid said child will be asking hh for someone more adept and competent with her first words.
2. i love gummi bears. but only the haribo brand. and only the orange and yellow bears. i won't touch red, white and green. they taste like someone else's regurgitated jello shots: a senior graduation trip to puerta vallarta i'm still trying to forget.
3. i like to have things planned way ahead of time. and i make lists like ina garten makes cobblers.
i'm a moronic-scheduling-maniac, who writes everything done in my filofax (yes, i still live in the 1990's), re-syncs it in my blackberry, and triple confirms it to my desk calendar. i even schedule my spontaneity.
4. i take multiple baths everyday.
5. crickets. i hate crickets. i also hate silence which, in effect, is pseudo-crickets.
6. my left pinky toe lies horizontal. i was born with it this way. we call it bitch toe.
7. i am always cold. i wear a fluffy, cozy wrappy all the time to keep warm. even in 100 degree costa rica sunshine i had goosebumps. it's no longer adorable to my hh, but to still to get his attention i dramatically cry out, "baby, i am frijoles!!".
yes, i know this translates to " i am beans." BUT i like the way it almost sounds like "i am freezing", and it makes him smile.
so there you go. my seven things. it only took me 4 months to figure them out, put them to paper, and post.
i'm apparently supposed to tag the kreativ blogger onto 7 other blogs to keep the party going.
argh!! i hate that i have to narrow it down to 7....
duel living, jeune marie, sweet nothings, reverie, trust your style, with love from pittsburgh, and audrey onassis.
feel free to accept the tag if you like or pass it on to your discretion.
thank you again deb. you set the standard, oh goddess of katy, texas.
night reading
my hopskotch across the northeast entailed a 7 hour stay in an albany marriott.
with my kindle out of battery, and informercials as my only television option, i was desperate for other reading material:
hmmmm?
the bible, the book of mormon, and the spirit to serve (the story of marriott).
that bill marriott has quite the high opinion of himself
{depending on one's own attitude toward jesus christ and joseph smith}.
did the job though.
fell right to sleep.
a novel idea
help me darlings. i'm strung out on so-so books.
the last books i've read:
olive kitteridge, the help, the book thief, cat's eye, the secret of eden, unaccustomed earth, hotel of corner of bitter and sweet, and cutting for stone have all left me feeling blase´ and unmoved.
all rave-reviewed and recommended, but all left me feeling like seattle's best coffee: meh.
i just started mudbound. again: recommended and raved.
what do i like to read? fiction. historical fiction. i'd rather not learn anything real going on in the world right now, thank you very much.
here are some of my favorite books:
(click cover for more info)
any suggestions?
dreamy weekend
i had a horizontal weekend.
bliss.
any free moment was spent with favorite reclined in reverie.
books were finished and started.
our trees are full of baby birds! windows stay wide open and tv's stay silent: their loud, sweet, springtime song fills our house top to bottom.
the jasmine i planted last year opened her eyes yesterday. even priscilla lingers longer on the now perfumed patio.
this is what i choose to see, smell and hear.
happy monday loves.
click image for source
happy weekend
this weekend i need a roomy shirt. a long, loose shirt with stretched sleeves.
a shirt i can leave untucked so i don't fret about a stomach not sucked in.
sleeves to hide freakish goosebumps. whom appear even when doppler reads 80 degrees. warm (to some).
this weekend i hope to wear a mint green scarf of low blood pressure.
i'm going for a bit of a drive. happily. a treasure chest awaits me. i will gladly stay to the right of everyone else. listening to her, breathing in......
breathing out.
favorite and i will read. feel like i'm missing pages or worse a soul. i need an emotional socket converter because i'm not feeling anything yet, and (oh my) the story is sad. i read. unmoved.
{yet, i saw a pigeon in a parking garage wednesday night, and i boo hooed for 30 minutes straight, imagining he was stuck there away from his family.}
we're waiting for the next available bed at the local sanitarium.
my mind lately is one loud pinball machine. bang bang. bounce bounce.
i want watercolor emotions just for a month.....
click image for source
cloud nine weekend
oh my! don't you just love open weekends that just melt seamlessly from no plans set, let's see where the hour takes us to ....well isn't this delightful and unexpected? this morning i found myself making snow angels lying in bed; giddy still from our joyful non-events.
i think the weather played a major role in my dreamy weekend. seventy degrees, skies pale blue, just enough clouds to make it girly and scenic.
let me summarize (smile).
the beasts got an outing to the park.
football silliness at the local high school.
a presidential 40 yd field goal kick costing hh to fess up the big dough in a lost bet.
i found my new favorite nail shade.
the MOST beautiful flowers (big, fat peonies!!!!!) delivered to my doorstep
a fish taco so delicious, only expletives and moans suffice.
a bubblebath or two. or four or five.
where i finally finished a nice, didn't suck, book of short stories.
all the while green fiddlehead fragranced the house with tea, clean cut grass, and spearmint.
and as you can tell, i'm back to taking photos again. sadly, alice, at only 3 months old, was on the fritz. a lemon. i had to return her. tamra is her replacement. i'm already attached. tamra the camera is a sassy shot and hasn't given me any grief since we've started courting. i think i've found my new dance partner.
happy monday friends!
click book, nail polish image for more information.
dancing for rain gods
my dancing both worked and didn't. for weeks i've been bouncing, flinging, flipping, and romping round for the rain gods. breathless, the beasts and i bounded round the roost beseeching the powers that be for winter weather.bellied up, our tongues lolled, eyes too exhausted to smile; we slept sapped and satisfied listening to requited raindrops patter down on the roof all weekend long.favorite and i seemed to have romped a little too vigorously. the showers came down, so did we......with colds. grrrrr. barricaded under duvets and a bouquet of lanvin (sawyer love's mommy's perfume) we drank tea, read, and watched movies.
as always, there's nothing my boy of ten can't ease: colds, headaches, heartaches.
even sick i was able to have a nice weekend.
- sawyer protecting his anonymity
To the Loonhouse
swear to god this virginia woolf bitch is kicking the shit out of me. furiously, red read the same page nine times last night. three entire sheets of paper dedicated to paint strokes ten years passed. i'm the one ready to put stones in my overcoat.and my does ginny love her drawn out sentences. the following (sentence) numbers 260 words:"The gruff murmur, irregularly broken by the taking out of pipes and the putting in of pipes which had kept on assuring her, though she could not hear what was said (as she sat in the window which opened on the terrace), that the men were happily talking; this sound, which had lasted now half an hour and had taken its place soothingly in the scale of sounds pressing on top of her, such as the tap of balls upon bats, the sharp, sudden bark now and then, "How's that? How's that?" of the children playing cricket, had ceased; so that the monotonous fall of the waves on the beach, which for the most part beat a measured and soothing tattoo to her thoughts and seemed consolingly to repeat over and over again as she sat with the children the words of some old cradle song, murmured by nature, "I am guarding you--I am your support," but at other times suddenly and unexpectedly, especially when her mind raised itself slightly from the task actually in hand, had no such kindly meaning, but like a ghostly roll of drums remorselessly beat the measure of life, made one think of the destruction of the island and its engulfment in the sea, and warned her whose day had slipped past in one quick doing after another that it was all ephemeral as a rainbow--this sound which had been obscured and concealed under the other sounds suddenly thundered hollow in her ears and made her look up with an impulse of terror."this sentence can also translate into: "mrs. ramsay, while not fully engaged in the hurly burly of her busy house; nevertheless craved it for her sanity." BAM!!!! i did it 20 words.
with sixteen pages to go i was just now advised tis not the novel to bury oneself in come bedtime. hmmm. so, between gathering my own firewood, making homemade bread from scratch every day, feeding the homeless, cleaning the chicken coop, teaching lotte, walking the beasts, and keeping my hair shiny & voluminous; i'm supposed to set aside morning "FREE" time for stream of consciousness analysis?! methinks no.if i had seconds to spare they would be spent laughing, dreaming, or kissing.committed i stay. i'd rather drink draino than read the twilight books. off i return to the lighthouse.image1 image2
