Friday fun day

It's Friday, people. Whoot hoot! Friday is fun day in my world. Today I am thankful for precious moments, like those spent this afternoon playing bridge at my buddy Cecilia's home.

She was nice enough to indulge my picture-taking quirkiness. Luckily, we had five for play, so on my off set, Cecilia let me wander around snapping photos of her lovely home.

The place is elegant, yet comfy to be around, just like she is.

Here are some shots for your  inspiration, decorating and otherwise.

The statue below reminded me so very much of my daughter Kelly. Adorable.

The painting below was one Cecilia and her dear late husband commissioned. They are the sweet couple featured in the foreground.

The picture reminds me how very precious life is. Live, laugh and enjoy every second you can with those you love, for nobody knows what tomorrow may bring.

egg crazy

I went a little crazy with eggs yesterday. It happens. Eggs are so incredibly lovely. And I bought thirty-six for three bucks. For beauty and nutritional value, that deal can't be beat.

I experimented with natural dyes. Easy peasy.

I started with three colors using 1)two beets chopped and boiled in water to cover, 2)curly kale chopped and boiled in water to cover, and 3)a couple tablespoons of turmeric boiled in about a cup and a half of water. Then I strained out the solids (saving the beets to throw into a salad) and added three tablespoons of white vinegar to each. The kale was a dud, as barely any color bleached into the water, so I ditched that vat and boiled up some loose tea instead, adding vinegar once strained.

I dunked the hard boiled eggs in each color, stirring till they got a nice shade for all of the colors, then drained them on flower frogs, or the egg carton.

The natural dye makes such soft, yet robustly colored eggs. Nature is so chocked full of enticing beauty that it is shocking. Somebody could build a whole museum just for eggs. If they do, I want to work there as an egg docent. Dream job.

finding blip

Sometimes in life, I forget to play. I worry if my pictures are good enough, my words are good enough, I am good enough. I don't want to disappoint anyone or make a silly mistake.

I guess inside, I'm still that little girl trying to earn love and to think my way past every dilemma when all I really need to do is relax, open my hands and let go. To rest in the arms of the powerful God who made me just as I am. Surely He had His reasons. Surely I am meant to float inside this delicious mystery called life chasing the colors, bugs, flowers, and endless questions that draw me. I'm learning that to find my way, it's often best to close my eyes and go by heart.

Like with photography. I've been too busy trying to up my skills, trying to be perfect, I guess. Darn that over-thinking. But tonight I gave up and had fun looking at all the photos I've taken lately and working on them by whim. Whim is a good rule of thumb, I've decided. After all, the whole point is finding joy: fearlessly hunting for that inexpressible something that makes your heart go blip when you see it. Blip in the technical sense, which is highly individual and best detected by feeling, not thinking. 

Blip is the new bliss. I highly recommend you go find yours. I'm a person who could never relax my vision enough to see the hidden image in any Magic Eye picture. If I can learn to chill & trust my intuition, anyone can.

on simple pleasures

Yesterday I got to thinking about simple pleasures. The day started out normal enough. QG and I headed to the gym to do the elliptical, weights, then swim like we always do on Saturday, our special day to hang out. 

At the pool, things got weird. Usually, the place is deserted, but not yesterday. First, there was "Scuba Dude" rocking the full mask, fins and breathing tube for his laps in the outside lane. Whatever. Maybe he was training for a dive. Next a 70-ish gentleman comes struttting into pool deck in a tiny flowered Speedo. Not your typical Texas swimwear. Does he jump in and start swimming? Nope. He grabs a kickboard, props it against the corner wall to use as a pillow, and proceeds to flop onto his back and fall asleep spread eagle for all the world to see. Russ and I are like, Huh? He was still snoozing like a baby when we headed to the showers fifteen minutes later. 

The shower is my favorite part of the gym experience. The pool's cold, so thinking about the steaming hot shower to follow is the only thing that gets me through that first chilly plunge. Hot showers are surely one on life's greatest simple pleasures. I could stand in there for hours soaking up the heat. Only not yesterday. Nooooo. For the first time ever, all the gym showers were cold. It was torture. I should have known the universe was off kilter, what with all the strange agents milling about. 

Missing that hot shower made me appreciate it all the more. I realized how much I'd been taking it for granted. Never again. I'll rejoice for every toasty second next Saturday. And for my cup of coffee each morning. And for my soft bed at night. And for my cup of English tea every afternoon. And for my dog, who follows me around all day. And for every little flower I see. Life is awash in tiny pleasures tucked into every corner. It is good to slow down and take the time to truly see.

words & flowers

Just look outside. God is showing off. Alright, maybe not today so much. But Monday, when I took these shots at the Dallas arboretum, was delectable. 

Spring is here! Let's celebrate by going outside this weekend to enjoy the trees and flowers.

Here is a poem that I love by William Blake.

Eternity

He who bends himself to a joy
Does the winged life destroy:
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise.

French lessons

The cool thing about traveling to other countries is that when you get back, you are different. It's not just a matter of visiting, but of learning and picking up good ideas to incorporate into your life.  In France, I watched the women and daily habits most. Here are a couple things I gleaned.

Parisian woman take care of themselves, and are fashionable at every age. I did not see a single obese French woman. If they exist, they are in hiding. I did not see any unkempt nails, or un-made-up faces. Also, these gals keep to a healthy weight and walk a lot. They accessorize with scarves, pins, earrings, and lace and pattered tights. Nobody wears solid tights there, it is all about the funky patterns. According to Iris, their trends hit the U S next, so start stockpiling the lace tights. Also, they wear the most beautiful and interesting wool coats, mostly with several different colors worked into the design. And, of course the shoes are elegant. No sneakers or clodhoppers, even with all that walking. Amazing. I guess they train their feet to withstand abuse from an early age.

Eat what you love, but in small amounts. These folks are all about portion control. I went to Bertholli ice cream shop, and the cones were smaller than child size here, but even most adults only got a single scoop. Also, dinners generally include a tiny dessert, after small portions of each food. How sensible.

Every household needs fresh flowers.

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be toothless

So, today was a wee bit harrowing. I'll admit that. It all started last Friday night at a pleasant crawfish boil. What could be dangerous about that, you might ask? Plenty. Alright, actually not much. Except that on the second crawfish half of my top left molar fell off. I thought it was just a lost filling. It didn't hurt, thank the Lord. One moment, my tooth was there, the next, part of it was swallowed. Though, I do not blame the crawfish for this infusion of roughage.

Monday promptly at 8:00, when they open, I call my dentist. Ahh. The receptionist assures me, it is probably just a lost filling, as that tooth was filled only a few years ago on that corner, and could I come in Tuesday morning to have the filling replaced? "Sure," I say, "only I have another doctors appointment at eleven and cannot be late." (This is the vein guy for the, thankfully only one, vein which got totally destroyed in the accident and needs to get shut down for good...did I mention that I must be at least a thousand years old?)

"Won't be a problem," she assures me. Wait for it.

I get there on time this morning at 8:30 (a miracle in itself), and plop myself in the chair. Assistant dude peers into my mouth and immediately skutters off to find the dentist. Hmmm. Not a good sign, I think.  She arrives and peers into my gaping mouth.

"This is not a lost filling. A fourth of your tooth has departed. We will need to do a crown."

Drat, I think. I've been putting off that crown for years. "Okay, but I need to leave by 10:30 at the latest for another doctor's appointment."

"Not a problem." she says. Wait for it.

So they do their thing. She shoots me three times with that oh-so-painful needle straight to the nerve, then we wait the five minutes for it to numb and the drilling starts.

Ping! I utter a groan as the drill goes straight to my heart. Not numb. Another shot. We wait. Drilling starts again. Ping! Not numb. This happens four times, by which time I cannot even close my mouth and am drooling onto the bib clipped to my chest. My lip is so numb I have to use my fingers to move it out of the way in order to close my mouth. But still, pain upon drilling.

"I can't believe this." Says the dentist.

This is not something you want to hear, by the way, when you are the person in the dental chair.

"Well, sometimes, there is a mutant nerve coming from who knows where, which we are not able to locate and numb."

Really? And I have to be the one with the mutant nerve? Crap. So there we are. The clock is ticking. She does not even offer to add more drugs to my cheek, which has now turned into Silly Putty. I grip my hands together tightly and try to imagine myself on a tropical island while she drills straight into my last nerve. She assures me she is trying to make quick passes through the bad (non-numb) corner. She pauses. I wipe my brow, as I am now sweating profusely. "One more tiny bit. I am ninety percent done." Can I tell you? That last ten percent was H-E-L-L.

Whew. That done, all that then remained was taking the impressions and the temporary crown, this the job of assistant dude. I must admit, it was pretty funny when he had to take a second impression, due to a bubble in the first, and he goes, "I'm sure you must already hate me, but I need to ask you to open wide again, so I can take another impression."

Actually, I didn't hate him. I thought he was a nice, polite guy. Not his fault I have a mutant nerve. The thing that stuck with me was the dentist's comment. She was wondering aloud why in the world I have these four molars, two already crowned, third now in process and fourth needing it badly, all trashed with HUGE fillings to begin with, while all my other teeth, aside from many small fillings, seem basically sound.

"Well, the first time I ever got taken to a dentist, I was thirteen years old. I had thirteen cavities by then, the worst of which resulted in those four fillings." 

"That would explain it." She said. "Too bad they didn't get caught sooner."

Yeah. Too, too bad. As in all of this could have been avoided. As in, Crap-ola. As in, Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be toothless. Is it any wonder I was vigilant about taking my kids to the dentist every six months their whole lives? Kids need dentist. Count on it, people.

I scurried out of there, drooling onto my sweater at 10:45, and sped to the nerve doc, arriving only five minutes late. Not bad. On reflection, I figured it could have been much worse. My grandma was in full dentures by the age of thirty. And tomorrow is a new day.

On a happier note, yesterday was spent at The Dallas Arboretum with my delightful photography buddies enjoying the tulips and other blooms. What amazing extravagance nature provides. These photos are all from that shoot. Beauty soothes.

I like that

Spent the weekend gardening, cleaning, cooking, working out, and hanging out with QG, my writing group and some other buddies. Also got to catch up with both daughters, some friends and both sisters via phone. The Paris days were amazing, but ordinary days like these are too, especially because of the people in them.

Here's what I know. Who trumps what.

 No matter where you go,

or what you do, 

 you'll always be you.

And I like that!

theme of themes and word of words

When I went to that writing conference last spring, most folks in my critique group said my essay had crisp lines and fresh descriptions, but no clear theme. Of course it had a theme. That theme was a life. My life in so far as it intersected with my great uncle Vic, who lived with us during my teenage years and was my friend. Who goes to a funeral and says afterwards, "Great funeral, terrific guy. He had an amazing life, but sadly, no clear theme emerged"? Themes are up to the listener in my opinion. Who wants to be handed a script of exactly what to think about what they see or read? The mulling is half the fun.

I might have been better about themes had I not been hanging out at thrift shops and yard sales for the past twenty-seven years. I love to stare at jumbles of junk and ponder the whole mess for inspiration. 

All my adult life, I've had a recurring dream that I'm the first person to arrive at an estate sale, and get plenty of time to select whatever I want before anyone else is allowed in. Of course, that's exactly what didn't happen when my mom died. First, her yucky husband said my sisters and I couldn't even come in to get anything. Then my uncle escorted us back to the trailer with his rifle cocked and loaded. Guns talk, ya know. Yucky Dude then grudgingly gave us exactly thirty minutes to select a few keepsakes. Queue recurring dream. But I digress. 

The point is that in life, as we go along, we get to keep learning. We get to keep gathering treasures, like friends or experiences, to build us into better people. What I learn more with each passing day is that intuition trumps intellect. Is that a theme? If so, it's mine. All of these pictures are from the Porte de Vanves Flea Market in Paris last Sunday.

Here is a related quote, which I love, from the book The Art Spirit by the artist Robert Henri, which I read on my trip. I learned so very much from this book about art, photography and life.

     "Art appears in many forms. To some degree every human being is an artist, dependent on the quality of his growth. Art need not be intended. It comes inevitably as the tree from the root, the branch from the trunk, the blossom from the twig. Non of these forget the present in looking backward or forward. They are occupied wholly with the fulfillment of their own existence  The branch does not boast of the relation it bears to the great ancestor the trunk, and does not claim attention to the magnificent red apple it is about to bear. Because it is engaged in the full play of its own existence, because it is full in its own growth, its fruit is inevitable."

Don't ya just love that?