You might remember me mentioning this scarf.
I love it.
But i can't afford it at over $300.
You might remember me mentioning this scarf.
I love it.
But i can't afford it at over $300.
Honoring the dead.
We should be doing that.
Here's an excellent article about the history of Dia de Muertos (Day of the Dead). - https://www.thenationalnews.com/lifestyle/family/2022/11/02/day-of-the-dead-2022-what-is-it-and-why-do-we-celebrate-it/
I think Madame Marie Laveau would appreciate being honored.
Here's a picture I took of Madame Laveau's crypt in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 when I visited New Orleans.
I DO NOT CARE how you feel about Nancy Pelosi.
The attack on her husband needs to be a wake up call to Republicans who have sanctioned the increasing level of violence unleashed in this country.
An ugly, ignorant, hate filled man feeling emboldened by the tolerance shown these types of acts of aggression by the Republican Party and their leaders is disgusting.
Republican leaders are not only tolerating violence, but encouraging it.
The GOP is now led by people who are are so afraid of losing power that they're purposely spreading lies to stir up a base of hateful racists to extreme measures.
And yet - there are people supporting this party of hate.
If you're one of them, you disgust me too.
Attacking an 82 year old man with a hammer. What a fucking coward.
I have loved the mystery, suspense, whimsy and magic of Advent calendars since I was a little girl.
One of my favorite bloggers, the Everyday Parisian Rebecca Plotnick, has put together her choices for this year's 20 Best Advent Calendars.
These are limited Christmas related items that sell out quickly, so if you're a fan, it's time to place your order.
Take a peek.
If you read my last post you'll know Annabelle and I are home alone.
I, in jest, muttered about "what's a girl to do while DH is out of town."
Those who know me know I've never had any difficulty entertaining myself.
Perhaps that comes from growing up as an only child. Or being a bit of an introvert. Or simply being content with my own company.
I know some people need a good bit of socializing to keep them happy. I know some people who think staying home alone is boring beyond words. And some people just need to be out and about and doing stuff.
My lifestyle of happily being at home, sometimes, for several days at a time, seems weird to some. Oh, well. To each his own.
When the urge or need hits, believe me, i will get up, go out, and do stuff.
In the meantime, Annabelle and I are fine fine fine. She has, by the way, started speaking to me again. We're pals. She is sticking pretty close. ❤
We chat with Donald a couple times a day and things are going well with the move.
I did order a bag of scrap fabric from amazon, and pulled out all the other items needed to make my own version of the scarf I mentioned in my last post.
While waiting for the fabric to arrive I've done a little bit of cooking (thank you, Greg Herren for that Sloppy Joe recipe! The BEST!).
I've read a couple of VERY good books, and watched a couple of movies.
Books have let me down this year. Some that sounded good didn't hold my interest. Some I was looking forward to disappointed.
But.
Thanks to NetGalley.com I did read two that I loved. Started and could not put down (I love being retired).
Want to hear what they were?
Neither have been released yet but you can pre-order them.
So.
Donald left this morning heading towards Birmingham.
His folks are moving from their home to a smaller place, so he's going to be helping with whatever needs doing before, during, and after.
He's a good son,
and he's a good husband.
He's the best partner in the whole world.
And i hate it when he's not here.
He's also a good dog dad.
Annabelle is already pouting. She making sure I notice that she won't look at me and prefers the company of some of her toys.
So - what am i doing to entertain myself?
Shopping is always fun.
But since I can't bring myself to put on make-up and get dressed suitably to go out, shopping on-line will work just fine.
Bare feet, yoga pants, and a soft comfy tee are perfect on-line shopping apparel.
One of my first on-line clothing stops is always anthropologie.com
And today I spied this -
Early voting started today.
So, of course, We Voted.
And I wore a sweater that I gave to my dad for Christmas sometime in the early 80s, or late 70s.
My mom kept it all those years after he died in 1984. She would wear it occasionally, but took very good care of it. When we lost her, I brought it home with me and just recently had it cleaned. It shrunk a bit. But, now i expect I'll be wearing it quite a lot.
It's been a good day.
We all know I'm not a total Pollyanna (pfft - imagine that), but I hope to God if I EVER become a complete and total 100% all-the-time-bitch-on-wheels (or a witch on a broomstick, since I couldn't really find a bitch on wheels image I liked), I hope someone will give me a reality check. Someone out there promise me this, please? I am quite happy being one of those people though, who prefers to think of the glass as being half full as opposed to being half empty. Today is a gorgeous day in Meat Camp
Donald has gone off on his bike for a ride.
Annabelle is perched on her rock out back.
I'm sitting on the back deck enjoying coffee, Mother Nature's artwork, and . . . dare I say it - my lot in life.
And dinner cooks.
Saturday evening plans include pot roast, a glass or two of wine, and a cut throat game of Scrabble.
Life is good.
Donald and I have experienced some sadness these past few weeks.
We're both, knock on wood, fine.
But some very serious medical problems have been diagnosed for family and very close friends.
When this happens it's only human nature, i think, for us each to step back and do a little soul searching.
A little assessment of where we are right now.
And i can't help but remember a conversation i had with Joe Maron who urged us quite earnestly to travel. To travel often. To travel while we were able, because the day would come when it would no longer be possible.
We had this conversation while sitting at the kitchen table looking through one of the photo albums from a trip he and Margaret had taken.
With photos came a narrative of memories. Remembering a restaurant with an amazing meal, an hysterically funny incident, or a moving moment remembered with a look passed between long-time partners.
I wish I could assure Joe and Margaret that we're trying our best to get out there and make more memories. To honor that not at all subtle prod.
It has been driven home, quite powerfully, that we need to do it now.
Who knows what tomorrow might bring.
Like everyone else, our travel itch had to be put on hold for a couple years.
Then we planned a trip that we ended up having to cancel.
Now, we have something planned for next year with our fingers crossed that it actually happens.
Who knows what tomorrow might bring.
I re-read to savor the beauty of the words; the phrasing, the pacing, the choice of those words.
This is an excerpt from
Pamela Terry's THE SWEET TASTE OF MUSCADINES -
"Every house is haunted. Some are haunted in the traditional way: by spirits generally more mischievous than malevolent, who take delight in closing the open door, rocking the empty chair, or snuffing out the flaming candle, unfortunate souls who failed to squeeze enough enjoyment out of their paltry allotment of days to sufficiently satisfy their eternity. Most, however, are haunted by our own memories: bits of ourselves, individual and unique, left behind and lying dormant for decades but with the power to quicken and breathe the moment we step back inside. These personal spirits can live in the house of our childhood or the church where we married. They wait for us with the patience of angels, alert to the sound of our step, the certain sweetness of our perfume, the touch of our hand on the door. Like rainbows through beveled glass, they coalesce in the stillness, ethereal as a dream yet visible to our eyes only. We alone may catch glimpses of ourselves at long-forgotten ages, running down the hallways or sitting with a book at the window. We alone can see our parents as they once were, young and hale. Fleeting, hardly real, the sounds of our youth can return on a breeze—the music, the laughter, the tears. These spirits gather in the corners of once-familiar rooms to whisper and sing, a murmuration of memory meant for just one."