Priming the Pump

Just because he's so stinkin' cute. And because he loves cowboys and I love that he loves cowboys.

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Ever felt like you had so much to say, and yet, nothing at all to say? That's where I am, right now.

You know what that means! Time for RANDOM POST! Maybe it'll work something loose in my stagnant brain.

I love tulips.
I loved the movie "District 9".
I've lost 10 lbs. (you know that's going near the top of the list!)
That might explain why my brain is stagnant.
I may be starving.
My birthday is in February, ten days from Valentine's Day.
I don't like Valentine's Day.
Restless lately.
Matthew Broderick will be in town this weekend promoting his new indie film, Wonderful World.
I love Matthew Broderick but not at the price of $75.00 per ticket.
The movie has received bad reviews from the critics.
Ask me if I care.
My thoughts in this random list have become more streamlined.
I'm going to the beach this summer.
I will blossom at the beach.
I want to try a mandala.
I want to grow a vegetable garden this summer.
I want to travel to Italy.
I want to travel to Ireland.
I want to travel.
I wish I were a florist.
I need something good, no, I need something great to read.
I like Tilapia.
I love shrimp.
I love scallops.
I'm hungry (see above)
I have been published in a college newspaper, a college literary journal and in a local magazine.
That sucks.
I thought I'd be richer by this age.
I love poetry.
I hate the Kindle
I'm sleepy.
Finally.

That's it. Pretty shallow list now that I'm looking at it. And very self-centered.

Insightful.

Mirror

This is the reverse view of this photo. Minus the color. DePalmas is a pretty cool place, just wish we could have stayed long enough to taste the food. I love Italian. Instead, Diahn and I had a c0uple of glasses of wine and beer. She had beer, I had wine. We used to drink beer together but now, beer tends to give me a headache and I think wine does the same thing to her.

These days, it's a little more of an effort to stay awake past 11:00pm, but in our day, my friends, we used to drink some beer. And tequila. Or "to-kill-ya", we used to call it.

There are many, many, many, many sad tales that I could repeat here but what would be the point? Those days are gone, and with good reason. Who can survive Bloody Mary's, Screwdrivers and Mimosas on game days at 9:00 in the morning, followed by rowdy football games, beer, more beer, shots of tequila, more shots of tequila, pathetic games of Cricket, nasty hot wings, more beer, more tequila, and then a nice little cry at the end of the bar? All in one day.

Diahn moved around the bar like the geology major that she is, surveying the land, the peaks and valleys, the fissures and the solid ground. Guys loved her. Even stupid guys. Once a guy asked her what her major was and when she sighed, "Geology," with a totally bored look on her face, the idiot said, "Wow. So you, like, study the weather and shit?" I kid you not. I don't think she even cracked a smile. "Yep," she said.

My stories are not so cool. I once was asked my name by a cute, young frat boy and just as I opened my mouth to speak, I hurled all over his feet. To-kill-ya. Bad news, folks. Really bad. Uncool, was I.

These days, we're much more grown-up about our drinking. The kids are tucked into bed, phone calls are made, our bellys are full with good food before we start the party. And the parties these days consist of a few drinks and deep, heart-felt, philosophical conversations. No hurling allowed. And definitely, no frat boys.

Cheers, Diahn.

Circle

This is where I spent the last four days. My in-laws house in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Better known as The Wildwoods. I was there in the beginning when they built this wonderful place. It was a long time ago, another life. I was married to Diahn's brother, Brian. He died in 1989 in a motorcycle accident. They are still my family. Diahn, a sister, Carmen and Ray, still my mother-in-law and father-in-law. Their younger daughter, Kristen, still like a little sister.

Everyone pitched in when they were building. Even Jesse, mine and Brian's son, worked the land. He loved this place. Most of his childhood was spent out in the woods and land around the house, collecting sticks, burning brush in his cowboy boots. Helping Papa Ray.

Now, at least once a year, Diahn and I meet up here to visit. This is the room where I slept. The pink room, Carmen calls it. When I visit, I feel like I'm at a bed and breakfast.




Recognize the paintings? They're originals. By the famous artist, Diahn Ott. I love the pink room. Good sleepin'. Peaceful.

This is said famous artist and her mother, Carmen.

It's funny, no matter where I go, or how much time passes, they will always be my family. And when I go there, I am reminded that Brian lives on. He lives on in the faces of his beautiful sisters and his Mom and Dad. He lives on in their memories. I can even see him in his nieces and nephews. He lives on in who they are, who they've become. He lives on in our son, Jesse and our grandson, Little Brian. In the music. In the woods. In all he loved.

And I don't want to be sad about his death anymore. I want to celebrate his life. He certainly did. He loved life. I hear his voice when Jesse speaks, I hear his laugh when Little Brian laughs. I see his love of music in both of them.

And I feel blessed that he was here, that I was his wife, that he forever changed my life, that he brought me into this family that I will always claim as my own.

And that he carries on.

Chillin'

I'm due for a random post, right? I think so.

This is a picture of the growing stack of books on my night stand.


This time of year, I can't seem to stick with anything. So much for New Year's resolutions! I don't make them...anymore. And if I did, one of them would be to start at the top of this stack and plow through every book that I've started in the last six months. But I'm not. I started another one today.

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I love my blog friends. This place has been such a wonderful expansion of my life. I love watching each of you as you post throughout the year. One of my favorite things to do on walks through neighborhoods is to look into open windows and imagine. Who lives there? What are they like? What did they cook for supper? Are they happy? Are they lonely? Do they play piano? When I walk through my blog neighborhood, I get to do this just that. And I learn so much from you guys. Thank you so much for putting yourselves out there and sharing a piece of your life. I love looking into your windows.

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This is has been a cold, early winter for swamp land. Seriously. Wicked cold.

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I love my husband. I want to remind myself of that this year. And that he loves me. And that we're perfect for each other. Because we are. After four years of marriage, I'm starting to do that thing that we women do where we analyze every single thing our man says and does. He doesn't analyze. He just is who he is. And looks at me like I'm crazy when I start to ask him if he finds me attractive, fat, skinny, neurotic, smart, funny...I don't want to see that look in his eye anymore. Get a grip, woman! Let it be.

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I can't wait to see Dino this weekend. I miss her. T-town, here we come.

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Spring is just around the corner, my friends. Tonight, I grilled burgers and hot dogs and fresh veggies on the grill in 30 degree weather, just to remind myself that warmer, longer days are coming again.

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Thankful.