Lysol wipes, vitamins, airborne, nyquil, redi-tabs, hot tea, calling schools, Bah-bah-bah. I am sick of my family being sick! It has been a month.
I believe Afton has Fifth's Disease, Cedar now has pinkeye, I cannot talk-breathe-holla properly and Levi is a walking combo of all of these.
We are a hot mess. There, I'm done complaining. Just needed to shoot my thoughts into the universe.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Funerals are funny
Funerals are funny. Funny strange. Could be the cold medicine I'm ingesting in obscene amounts and the unwise choice of high heels as footgear. My grandma died this week. She had wild fuzzy silver hair and was sharply funny. Her eastern European bluntness could stop you short when she criticized or fill your heart when she poured out her love. Independance,endurance,and inquisitiveness marked her path.
I will miss you my warm polish grandma. My homestyled slice of the city safe harbor. My intelligent friend-I will miss you
I will miss you my warm polish grandma. My homestyled slice of the city safe harbor. My intelligent friend-I will miss you
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Breathless
After watching/listening/overhearing parts of the inauguaration and pomp today, I was struck. I suppose I expected to feel and see what we've always seen and felt. Big words, Big hats, big parades and the sense that expectations would not be met. The sense that we'd feel the other wingtip fall tomorrow.
Unexpectedly, in the midst of everything - I felt a stream of simplicity and dare I say it...spirituality. The lack of a need to bluster. The pullback into quietness of soul with Yo-Yo Ma and the gang. In the past, it has felt embarassing to hope in our nation, or justice. There is the lurking cynic, the dark mocker and even my own apprehension that has said no to the element most basic in our human creation - HOPE. But today, it came unbidden, burbling up - melting elements of fear. What truly could happen if even most of our nation just began to try? To try harder? Bush's choices often often made our nation look like one large ass. Who wants to maintain that image?
This morning, who could not be moved to tears? Something real is happening here. Our nation desires it, the younger generations are demanding it - I pray to God that Barack and his buddies can stand under the weight of a nations hopes. WHat works for me is that Barack calls each American into responsibility and accountability. To step out from the shadows and not wilt with laziness. He's calling out to the best part of ourselves.
The sheer breadth of body movement down the length of the lawn was spectacular. I Have been there when it was 1/3 - 1/2 full and it seemed endless. Did you see that glorious mass?
Well, my girl Afton is sick so gotta go motha-love her bitty biscuits. What did you all think?
Unexpectedly, in the midst of everything - I felt a stream of simplicity and dare I say it...spirituality. The lack of a need to bluster. The pullback into quietness of soul with Yo-Yo Ma and the gang. In the past, it has felt embarassing to hope in our nation, or justice. There is the lurking cynic, the dark mocker and even my own apprehension that has said no to the element most basic in our human creation - HOPE. But today, it came unbidden, burbling up - melting elements of fear. What truly could happen if even most of our nation just began to try? To try harder? Bush's choices often often made our nation look like one large ass. Who wants to maintain that image?
This morning, who could not be moved to tears? Something real is happening here. Our nation desires it, the younger generations are demanding it - I pray to God that Barack and his buddies can stand under the weight of a nations hopes. WHat works for me is that Barack calls each American into responsibility and accountability. To step out from the shadows and not wilt with laziness. He's calling out to the best part of ourselves.
The sheer breadth of body movement down the length of the lawn was spectacular. I Have been there when it was 1/3 - 1/2 full and it seemed endless. Did you see that glorious mass?
Well, my girl Afton is sick so gotta go motha-love her bitty biscuits. What did you all think?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Long fatty post
Winter purity
Tonight I drove through magic. The kind of quiet, late-night sparkling beauty that speaks to the luxury of being alone. I like the quiet danger of being out in a snow storm when things are a bit out of control. Its the same feeling I get on a motorcycle - powerful, vulnerable, and somehow a feeling a great stillness and rest.
Being a personality chameleon, I like being around people that draw out my vital streams. Always, in times of snowy unknown, I think of an unusual old friend. Have you ever met a young person that felt so seasoned from their life’s twists, that they seemed ageless, almost iconic? Trubert Flowers (yes, his real name) was (and I assume is) like that. In the height of America’s grunge period, I met this no holds barred American cowboy. Quiet, prepared and mischevious, I had never seen anything like him. Full on six-shooters, chaps, Wranglers and snapfront shirt. I rudely gaped in amazement the first time I met him. I was sure he was joking. Or a circus clown.
I traveled through Amarillo, his landing spot, several times. I’d join friends in sledding behind his horses and watching him break a horse. I even learned how to crack one hell of a long bullwhip – poorly, I might add. But my favorite experiences were getting caught with my girlfriends in his truck on the highway in snowstorms. I remember being pretty scared coming home with a few of my teammates from a church service in his truck. Winter storms blow up fast and nasty around the panhandle. It becomes quickly apparent who is prepared and who’s going to be waiting for a tow.
I watched Trubert, a man at ease in his element, comfortable with the unexpected and even enjoying it. He pulled car after car out of the ditches while we girls sat like idiots. I barely drove a stick shift –let alone that behemoth of a truck he tooled around in.
Observing him made me want to be stronger, less oblivious, and more prepared. So in the snow tonight, I embraced the strength of knowing more of who I am and liking it. When the wheels spun and the snow was thick, I remembered that I could be at rest; I could enjoy the purity of winter.
Tonight I drove through magic. The kind of quiet, late-night sparkling beauty that speaks to the luxury of being alone. I like the quiet danger of being out in a snow storm when things are a bit out of control. Its the same feeling I get on a motorcycle - powerful, vulnerable, and somehow a feeling a great stillness and rest.
Being a personality chameleon, I like being around people that draw out my vital streams. Always, in times of snowy unknown, I think of an unusual old friend. Have you ever met a young person that felt so seasoned from their life’s twists, that they seemed ageless, almost iconic? Trubert Flowers (yes, his real name) was (and I assume is) like that. In the height of America’s grunge period, I met this no holds barred American cowboy. Quiet, prepared and mischevious, I had never seen anything like him. Full on six-shooters, chaps, Wranglers and snapfront shirt. I rudely gaped in amazement the first time I met him. I was sure he was joking. Or a circus clown.
I traveled through Amarillo, his landing spot, several times. I’d join friends in sledding behind his horses and watching him break a horse. I even learned how to crack one hell of a long bullwhip – poorly, I might add. But my favorite experiences were getting caught with my girlfriends in his truck on the highway in snowstorms. I remember being pretty scared coming home with a few of my teammates from a church service in his truck. Winter storms blow up fast and nasty around the panhandle. It becomes quickly apparent who is prepared and who’s going to be waiting for a tow.
I watched Trubert, a man at ease in his element, comfortable with the unexpected and even enjoying it. He pulled car after car out of the ditches while we girls sat like idiots. I barely drove a stick shift –let alone that behemoth of a truck he tooled around in.
Observing him made me want to be stronger, less oblivious, and more prepared. So in the snow tonight, I embraced the strength of knowing more of who I am and liking it. When the wheels spun and the snow was thick, I remembered that I could be at rest; I could enjoy the purity of winter.
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