“weather in a word…”

On the last day of our Gulf vacay, this sign was just outside a lunch cafe.

Funny how even a grey weather day on a vacay stint just doesn’t matter. 
You have, by now, relearned livingwithin Nature, embraced by it, wrapped up in the balm of walking around in the air, have learned how to be beyond the office walls, and you’ve rediscovered the relativity of time without a clock, including all the things you can do or not do within a day that doesn’t involve desks, meetings or email.

In fact, you’re likely to tilt your head skyward, close your eyes, open your mouth and taste the rain. 

 

 

Books read on vacay: 
Lucia, Lucia by Adriana Trigiani.  I like her books (see her THE SHOEMAKER’S WIFE on the bestseller list!) for their mix of Italian language, growing up Italian in NYC and the occasional inclusion of fictional relatives in Italy. It recalls hours and hours at my mother-in-law’s kitchen table in Brooklyn.
The Art of War for Writers by James Scott Bell  is a decent read with inspirational value, some strong recommendations and one or two esoteric exercises.  Yes, read it. Even if you’re not a writer. But if you’re reading this, you  probably are.
And then there are the magazines but much reading time was replaced by “friend” time because we holidayed with best friends and I cannot tell you how luxurious it is to drop in (a few floors down) for coffee with a BFF at the beginning of a day.

Do we not have something of the same luxury wtih our blog friends? Indeed!

Extremes…it all will make you laugh out loud…

THE TITLE OF THIS COVER:  “CARRY-ON LUGGAGE”

It’s true. In order to avoid baggage fees, people carry their own weight in “stuff”, all jammed into one or two pieces, onto the plane. You can’t blame them. It’s worth the try, unless you’re in the last group to board in which case finding space to stash your stuff is challenging…you can just fuggedaboutit.

I cannot bear dragging things around, either. The thinner and lighter, the better. There have been moments when I’d gladly disown my own purse (ok, it’s rather large) when running through Chicago’s interminable terminals.

It’s truth that makes us laugh, oddly.  So this cover on The New Yorker, April 16, had me LOL-ing.

Easter eggs and bunnies…

A NOTE ABOUT EASTER BUNNIES

Easter bunnies don’t take kindly…

…to being fooled!

Good Friday, great Friday…

Sun.
Mowers out early. (but not us)
Pollen. (but took allegra)
Holiday. (so lots of traffic, but who cares? no clocks.)
Headed out on a tour of errands and stop-offs.
HM actually DID pull over at Starbucks (no line!) and had my first ever cherry tart from there (along with main-line coffee) and I’ve been eyeing those mini things for weeks. Not bad! Taste even better when you’re flying off-schedule!

Then, to the Hill.
For our annual pilgrimage.
First stop, Steve’s.
It’s a hot doggery run by singer-rocker Steve Ewing. Having interviewed him for foodie mag, I was curious about the “dog” menu and HM was hungry and so in we went, and there he was and order we did…

HM got the “mac n’ cheese.”  I got the “Madeline.”
Yum. These aren’t just any old dogs. These are smoked and babied and wrapped in fresh made rolls from right across the street. Really. You gotta go there. Ewing started this business a few years back as a food truck after his concerts. Now he rocks the place in the daylight, closes it up by 5 pm and heads out to play a gig 5 nights a week. Meanwhile, he’s in the studio with The Urge, getting a ready to put out a record at the start of summer.

Then to St. Ambrose.

and HM and Nor’s fave pizzeria on the Hill… ( we didn’t stop there today; HM will not resume eating pizza ’til Easter Sunday!)

and then off to an urban flower shop, where I asked the owner if deer would eat the marigolds we were thinking of buying. She smiled and said “I have no idea.”

to be continued….Must go mop the floor and tidy up the rooms – kids are coming home!
and you KNOW I”m going to insert a bunch of flower pictures in the next post!!!! (as I do every year…at least I didn’t make you sit through pictures from MoBot’s orchid show. We didn’t get there!)

stay tuned.

And rather than getting bogged down in a book (and happily so, may I suggest a look at one of the season’s flower and garden magazines? guaranteed not to make you sneeze and guaranteed to give you some ideas!)

Tuesday…rather a cartoon of a day

I did NOT miss the Downton Abbey finale though I was on the road.
And that, my friend, is when TV is a treat. When you’re out there disconnected and it reaches out and grounds you. It normalizes wherever you are, dishes a little ditzy comfort, talks in your background so you’re not lonely, so you don’t recall how the waitress removed all the other place settings when you sat down to dinner (for one) earlier and so you don’t notice how big the hotel  room is, big enough for your entire family and their friends…and relatives, including second cousins.

You turn on the TV and there it is, a favorite show, a telling moment of entertaining drama. You do not have to lift a finger, your self moves into comfort mode; you just sit there and suspend your belief. Of course it’s far better if you’re the type (and I am) who enjoys social TV watching, with you and your friends making commentary, tossing out questions like “what did she say?” or “would you ever do a thing like that?” or “Doesn’t that gown look fabulous?” and etcetera. 
Yes, TV has its place, its places.

Though cartoonist Dave Sipress has published plenty, I’ve noticed him most often (and found him hilarious) in The New Yorker where he has published more than 350 cartoons since 1998. He plants the seed of laughter; we have to ponder it first, and makes us laugh at the truths of ourselves. That’s not a bad thing.

Sunday, sneeze-y Sunday

Celebrated Palm Sunday.
Also, drank buckets of coffee in order to get up early and stay up even ’til now.
Updated my reading list.   
And…worked outdoors cuz it was just too gorgeous to stay inside like a baby in a bubble.
     
Resultantly,I have half emptied nearly a complete tissue box. My sneezes (albeit covered by trapping them in my sleeves or paper mouchoirs) would bounce you right out the front door. Such vigor.

Between those obnoxious achoos,  and with a steady hand (despite them and the coffee!), I started snapping “domestica” wary still of returning outdoors.

And yes, there’s yet another project undertaken and not yet done – getting the artwork in this house grouped and properly mounted in rooms where they will be seen to their best advantage. No, no, nothing flashy or insured. Just some giant pieces and some no bigger than a 4″x6″ photo that we’ve found  and adopted over time.

Ultimately, it’s part of Spring cleaning.
So is this sneezing.
Achoo!

(cereal bowl from this morning)

last thursday…

It was the best of days. It was the worst of days.

And then there it was, shining like a beacon - the library.

And then that same evening, despite several “sandwich generation” phone calls of things gone afoul and amiss and staring down several hours of work to create a compelling PPT (an oxymoron, non?), I found myself sitting in Journaling class, pen poised, journal open to blank page (there are a lot of them) and listening.

I listened to the class leader share books on journaling and read excerpts from several of them. I listened to fellow journalers (normally an introverted lot) talk about what they were writing and why. I listened to one of them discuss healing through writing and another talk about presenting personal stories in wraps and scraps and books that would make others want to pick them up and read them.

I did a lot of listening and it was a balm. To be a good listener is as rich as to be a good teller.
Then I went home and wrote four pages. Four pages of nothing. But the stress dripped away and answers to some questions emerged. I know I can’t blog AND journal AND freelance. Well, I could, but in the interest of our family, my job and keeping the house clean and livable, um, it’s a stretch.

Nevertheless,  maybe, just maybe, I’m back in the writing game.

what I send the kids…

I sent this “tear-out” to Smoo (aka “Nor”), our daughter. Why? Cuz we both love dogs and fashion, tho’ not necessarily doggie  fashion. This picture was snapped by photographerLandon Nordeman at the Pre-Westminster Fashion Show, at the Hotel Pennyslvania and was featured in the February 13 & 20, 2012 The New Yorker magazine. 
I like to send the kids nail mail.

Smoo will receive this and laugh.
At least I don’t send her news clippings. I leave the “why” to the photos that tell their own stories.

About writing:
Makes me recall what I heard at a conference about the old publishing convention tagged “Lincoln’s doctor’s dog” wherein it was thought that the mention of any of the three in a story would guarantee a bestseller.  Humph. Skip the president and the doctor. Just put a  dog in it and I’ll read it. Andprobably cry, too.

These tango-ing planets…

Venus and Jupiter though together lo these many days (years) and just “past peak” in the spotlight which is not over yet, are in our western sky at nightfall and, aside from the moon, which is not yet part of their neighborhood, they are the two very brightest “things” in the night sky. 

Jupiter is slipping downards, as we might describe it and Venus is on the right. How it shines and shines! However, the picture below, is that of a very recalcitrant photographer. I confess to beeing too lazy to go in the house to get my glasses, much less the tripod that would have quelled the apparent unsteadiness in my photo below (you cannot cheat “high speed” photos).

No binocular or telescope is necessary for viewing however as the two planets dance in the westward sky, to be joined on the 25th-26th, by the neatest little slice of moon. Remember to look over your shoulder, to the southeast, to see Mars in its rusty glory, not to be outdone as a sky celebrity.

If the oddly summer-weather-in-winter allows more nighttime clarity, this forthcoming trio might be better captured this week from our backyard.

In the meantime, Venus and Jupiter smack of an odd romance, a scientific delight and just a whole lot of awe for those can drop everything they know to just stare at the sky.
We don’t mind being dangled, sometimes, on the brink of the universe.

(You can’t tell in my picture – you can’t tell anything! - but Venus is a bit of a football shape and will imitate the phases of our moon, as well, according the Sky guy on NPR.)

For a really nice, nearly fairytale-esque picture, go here:  http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/46734632/ns/technology_and_science-space/

Better yet, go outside and stand there, looking. If your weather is anything quirky like ours, you’ll likely only need a sweater.

The “Archer”…caught red-handed and up to no good

Archie, the name for ALL the  squirrels that live here on Lochcrest  is up to no good. Though any one of the at least three of them that live in our very immediate environs knows full well that getting on the bird feeder is impossible, nonetheless there is great sport in eternally trying to win the platform of the feeder, even if it means skinnying up the pole and finding oneself inside the black tube and STILL unable to get to the feeder. As for the BBQ approach, beware of the grill’s summer face and keep in mind that it is kept – aha! - just out of “leap” distance.

And so, in the spirit of squirrels (and yes, I know they’re rodents, or, rats with furry tails) but I prefer the Beatrix Potter perspective, I recommend a look back and a quick read of SQUIRREL NUTKIN. Lovely, eh?