Still Thankful

Every day when my husband's home and I have to go to work, he brings me my freshly brewed good morning. Sometimes I even manage to open up one eye. My fave version is a live one, but you'll get the idea.

That is The Point

Really enjoyed the Harry Nilsson tribute at Off Broadway last night. Perhaps the best part was when they played The Point silently on a big screen and played the music to it live with narration. (More like the album.) Which of course made me look for it on YouTube. I hope they upload something from the show, but til then, I did find some broadcast clips. Unfortunately, it's not Dustin Hoffman narrating like the TV version I remember, but still, good to see it out there.

Happy Thanksgiving

I'll be out giving thanks tomorrow, so here's my very favorite Thanksgiving song for you today.

Spirits

Angels. Ghosts. God. Gods. Goddesses. Spirits.

I believe. There are most certainly energies among us that cannot be explained by science. Different people or cultures give them different names. But all civilizations throughout history seem to refer at one time or another to presence or power that is unseen. I've felt them. I've seen signs. A shadow where none should be cast, a bird following me, a warm breath of air on a cool day or a draft in a warm room, the gift of a melody, healing, or peace. Naysayers blame psychology, physiology or random theory. I blame no one; I'm grateful to the spirits.

Eye

When I'm shooting, it's only with a camera. And I love to do it. Thankfully, my eye is pretty good. Anyone can learn to take a decent photo, but it's a lot more fun when you can add your heart to your head.

Second hand

Saved a bundle today buying the florescent tubes we need for the basement at an estate sale. Lawn mowers, leaf blowers, bicycle tow-ers. Books, nooks, everything for cooks. Dishes, fishes, whatever your wishes. Second hand shopping, don't think of it as cheap, think of it as responsible recycling.

Hard

Sometimes it's hard to get beyond ones self

and feel grateful for anything.

Even when everything is bountiful.

Leftovers

We have the best leftovers. Sometimes, my husband doesn't even recognize the components once they are reassembled and transformed into a whole new dish. But sometimes the best leftovers are the straight up reruns. A big pot of soup, stew, chili or pasta that last two or three days is a life saver for our busy schedules. Of course, sometimes I wish I wasn't such a good cook. Maybe I'd eat less. But at least this way I know it's nutritious, low in sodium, fat, carbs or whatever we're currently avoiding, and above all, yummy.

Isn't it time?

My friends in Colorado are already holding it over me. The ones out east weren't happy about it. I think it's about time, isn't it? Even the Rally Squirrel is already enjoying it. Snow. Autumn's glory is faded. Dreary skies are dripping. It's time for a change. For crystals to grace the sky and cheer the grey. Isn't it time?

Learning

This year I am taking fiddle lessons at the Folk School. It's something I've wanted to do for quite a while, ever since I saw Darcie Deaville play fiddle with everyone at Woodyfest years and years ago. She is not a shy flower of a fiddler. No, she fiddles with fire, with style, with attitude! Not being a demure sort, the idea that I could be a strong female fiddler was quite appealing. Several teach yourself attempts were made, Lord knows Mel Bay had enough books & DVD's for me to try my hand, but I could never "get" the bowing. Well, I'm far from a virtuoso, but I can mostly hit the notes I'm looking for without screeching like a barn owl in heat thanks to the gentle coaching of instructor Ellen. You really are never too old to learn.

Shadows & Light

Yin & Yang.

Night & Day.

Shadows & Light.

One without the other upsets the balance of the universe. How can one truly experience the velvet of a soft night without having a crisp, bright day with which to compare it?

I crave both, need both to feed my emotions.

Heart or mind?

Without one the other is empty.

I want to be full.

Puppy uppers

Nothing relieves workday stress like a cute puppy trotting by your desk. Or licking your nose, big brown eyes sparkling. Working in a small, privately owned company, I have the advantage of on premises puppies. Rotten meeting? Pet the puppy. Frustrating email exchange? Play a little fetch the doggie toy. How could you not be thankful for fantastic furballs breaking up your day with a jump, a yip and a wag?

apples

Many years ago I drank the iKool-aid. Three desktops, two laptops and an iPod later, it almost killed me to buy a Palm Pixi phone. I felt like I was cheating on my husband. (But at $25.00 and usable on pay-as-you-go, I had to go with the orange.) Apple isn't perfect. First they kept the iMac G5's bulging capacitors under their hats, then they tried to hide the exploding 1st generation iPod nano batteries from the US, while offering replacements to all other corners of the globe. But people are still buying Toyotas, right? Today I heard that they are going to replace the affected 1st gens. Thanks, apple. I still love you.

Weeds

One man's trash is another man's treasure.

One woman's weed is a garden 0f mine.

Serendipitous garnish on a daily plate,

Roadside attractions of the botanical kind.

You can be gracious and call them wildflowers,

They are both floral and can be wild,

Clinging to bluffs and rocks and ditches,

Showing their beauty as you drive by.

Think different

Being different sucks when you're in third grade. It's not much better when you're in sixth. But by high school, well, not as bad. In tenth grade, I reveled in it. And then, something crazy happened. Other quirky individualists began to emerge, like fall colors from a sea of summer green. We were gleeks before there was 'glee'.

People still find me different. I laugh too often or too loud, stare at the snow falling too long, embrace alternative priorities, and am grateful to see the world from a slightly askew perspective. It's good to be a white squirrel.

Thankful for midwest music

Nuff said.

Jayhawks

Whimsy

You don't have to take things so seriously all the time.

Want to understand? Follow me....

Scroll down to Folk Uke's cover of Harry Nilsson's "He Needs Me" and take a listen.

Many thanks to BoyHowdy for his always thoughtful posts and ever faithful heart.

Sky sight

I never tire of the sky. Possibly it began with the cloud games we all play as little children... and that one looks like a.... Over the years most give up the game until they have kids or grandkids to entertain. Not me. I've never stopped staring at the sky seeing scotty dogs and Abe Lincoln in the clouds, or watching jets draw contrail pentagrams on the horizon. But the best shows are early or late or stormy skies. Colors and silhouettes. Billows and streaks. Fire. More than once I've nearly run off the road watching its beauty unfold while trying to navigate an interstate. No officer, I have not been drinking, I was transfixed by the sunset. A likely story, unless he knew me. Then he'd understand; I'm just living in praise of the sky.

Hearts and Crafts

Is it art or craft? Personally, I believe the difference lies in the creative process. If I am following a pre-made pattern, trace a picture to paint for example, I feel that it is a craft. However, if I conceive of the piece myself, I draw a picture of something I see, then it falls into art. My brain: art. I copy: craft. Both can be beautiful, both fulfilling to accomplish.

Often I am an artist, equally I practice craft. Does it matter? The fact that I question, perhaps points to the answer . Perhaps. Then again, maybe it is all in how the process makes you feel. Satisfied, frustrated, spent and grateful. Art.

Obscuriana

Why do I know this stuff? Today while walking I spied four wooly bear caterpillars. (Not this one.) They all had insanely tiny black ends with a huge, wide brown middle. If the folklore is to be believed, we are going to have an extremely mild winter.

Itchy left hand? Expect some money soon. Plant lettuce on Valentines Day if you want a good, sweet crop. Crickets are good luck. Saying "I hate white rabbits!" will make smoke from a campfire turn away from you. Nose itches? Company's coming (or you are going to kiss a fool). Why do I remember this stuff?

All this obscuriana cluttering up my brain. Folklore, remedies, recipes, superstitions, you'd think I was a mountain woman from 1800's Appalachia. If pressed, I could make soap, settle your upset tummy with blackberry leaf tea, feed you a tasty salad from weeds in my lawn, or read the leaves to predict a storm on the way. These are things you just don't learn going up in the city. To paraphrase John Denver, thank God I'm a country girl.