Adam Levine's Beard

http://youtu.be/JF9x_g11v10

Sad face Monday - Video Blog

Canyon Lake

It's brown,

I say

He says, Red

Two deer

Chewing loudly

Tails twitching

Ears flicking

Tongues clicking 

With the cicadas

I take a drink

One long swallow

From a tall

Stemmed glass of

Pale red wine

He says,

The moon is full

I say,

Not quite. 

Gin & Tonic

Vodka and soda, she said
The last word hanging on a
Question mark, sure yet not
Because the lime and clear
Bubbly liquid in the glass
Could be, yet not, she knew
It could go either way
He said, gin and tonic
And she shook her head in knowing
Ah yes, her second choice
And his partner, a tall guy
Of distinguished age
Dressed in flip flops and denim
His love sitting beside him
Never touching yet obviously
A pair, nodding like he knew
That she knew that he knew
How she felt about the gin and tonic
It really could have gone either way
So she smiled encouragingly, to say,
Hello, I don't care, do you?
The sun set on the lake and
The music played, a girl with guitar
Singing Foster the People,
And the sky turned pink with love.

Workday

Dust filters through

My eyes to settle

On the part of my

Brain that makes me

Cough and dream

Of people I knew

Ten years ago socializing

Like best friends or family

Twice removed as skies

Grow dark outside

My office window

Turning pavement

Black as rain

Whitewater baby

I was feeling sorry for myself the other day because it occurred to me that pretty much everybody I know has gone ziplining except me. How could that be? I'm the adventuresome one. What had my life come to?
But then I remembered the whitewater rafting adventures I had in Colorado, specially the tandem ducky trips on the Dolores and San Juan rivers.
The ducky is a inflatable kayak.The tandem version is referred to as the divorce kayak by people in the know. I sat in the front and a friend commandeered the back. He did all the work and I helped steer with my little paddle. "Hard left!" he'd yell, and I'd plunge the paddle into the rapids, paddling fiercely with all that was within me. I knew when to stop, when the water calmed and we were out of danger. I did a pretty good job considering the only experience I had with paddles was with the ping pong variety.
One Saturday morning in May, as the sun peeked over the cliffs and warmed the chilly spring Colorado air, we gathered on the banks of the Dolores with friends. Some I knew and some I did not, and even the ones I knew I didn't know well. But the thing about Colorado is everybody is your friend, even the people you meet for the first time. No jealousy or suspicion or insecurities or judgments there. Nobody cares who you are or where you've been, what color you are, how much money you have or the clothes you wear. Those things make no difference. It's the Colorado creed.
A couple of oared rafts were unloaded from trailers on the water's edge along with our ducky, ice chests, boxes of food and supplies. An ancient Suburban barreled down the dirt road towards us, dust flying in the sunlight, obscuring our view of the driver. When the dust cleared, an earthy woman in a long-sleeved moisture-wicking shirt, shorts and battered Chacos stepped to the back door of the Suburban and hauled out three kids. They were all tow-headed and lively. Mom - she was obviously their mom, you could tell by how familiar she was with the routine of unloading them from the car - held a little girl on her right hip and a box of Cheerios under her left arm. She and the other two kids - a boy about 8 and a girl about 5 - grabbed tote bags and backpacks from the cargo area and headed to the water.
But here is what this recollection is really all about. Turns out, the mom was one of the raft guides. Before she climbed into the raft to take over the long heavy paddles, she slipped a swath of gingham cloth around her neck and tied it around her waist. She was familiar with that routine, too, and knew exactly where to drape and slip and fold and tie the cloth so it sat just right.
Then, she scooped up the littlest curly-headed girl toddling barefoot through the rocks and sand and slipped her into the cloth sling. When she was done, the girl was tightly strapped against her mother's chest, casually chewing on a carrot stick. She seemed unconcerned that she was about to ride some Class 3 and 4 whitewater rapids strapped to her rowing mom's chest. She had obviously been there before.
I, on the other hand, was quite nervous about the child not wearing a personal flotation device. But then again, she was semi-permanently attached to her mother, who was wearing a PFD. So it was what it was. It was as good as it gets.
I may not have gone zipping through trees on a wire, but I have rafted with a whitewater baby, baby. Pretty rare, I think.

In the beginning

I woke up early this morning thinking about my weekly newspaper and how I finished everything last night. My copy editor sent an email this morning saying her crew had finished building the weeklies, mostly, and they were on the editors' desks ready to be proofed.
I sighed heavily and stretched, contemplating all the things I need to do in the next two days. Not much, relatively speaking, and by that I mean I don't feel especially stressed about deadlines. I have it all straight in my head and on my calendar. Breathe. Stretch. Sigh.....
And then I remembered my column.
Crap! My column! I still needed to write my column for this week's paper, which I usually do early on Thursday mornings.
I threw off the covers and jumped out of bet - literally jumped, I'm telling you - pulled on my pajama pants and headed for the coffee pot. I thanked the good Lord for my sweet hubby, who usually makes my coffee every morning. A fresh hot pot was waiting for me in the kitchen. I poured a cup and thought about the subject of my column. Not a clue. Nothing. No inspiration. I still felt groggy and had a little headache right behind my eyes. Plus, it's another dreary balmy winter day here in Central Texas. Not conducive to pep and vigor.
I just wanted to crawl back in bed. But instead I opened the laptop, sat in the living room with my cup of coffee and fended off the cat who wanted to do some typing of his own on the keyboard.
So far, this is all I've been able to write.....but.....it's a start.

Hairstream

I'm in that frame of mind where I don't quite know what to do with my hair, and I know that doesn't sound like a big deal, especially for you guys, but for me it is, at least it is today or this week or this month or until I figure out what in the heck to do with it, because the hair defines us, and I lose so much every day I wonder that I even have any left on my head, but I do and it's a lot, and I know I'm lucky, sometimes I want to post something on Facebook about the amount of hair I lose but then I think about the cancer victims going through chemo and radiation and how they must feel when they lose their hair, with everything else going on, life and death hanging in the balance, on top of it all they lose their hair, so who am I to complain about the paltry strands I lose every day, nobody, that's who, it's nothing, it's all relative but I try to be sensitive, and back to my hair, it's at that longish state that won't do a thing but hang and I wish it were several inches longer or several inches shorter, and I tell myself that it's just in the in-between stage, and that reminds me again of life and how we are always in between something, even in the midst of whatever we are still in the middle, but what exactly does that mean, heck I don't know, I'm just writing stream of consciousness here because, you know, even though I'm not in a book store writing in my journal, this is about all I have time for right now, and writing in my journal is on my list of things to do for me, I'm trying, I'm really trying, to maintain some balance right here in the middle, between longish hair and flowing beauty and cloudy days and sunny mornings like this, and by the way, I love Rusted Root.

Plan a party

Now that I have been promoted to this fabulous job that is just so perfect for me, that excites me to no end and makes me say the words I have wanted to say forever: "I love my job," I want to be prepared. I'm already feeling the pressure and stress of the high expectations that I place on myself, resulting in obsessive thinking, thinking, thinking. Last night, I dreamed about work all night long. So today, I am going to make a list of all the things I need to remember to do for me, to reduce my stress and maintain balance.
Here goes:

Go to bookstores and write in my journal.
Write crazy poetry.
Exercise.
Sit on a patio in the sun.
Get a pedicure.
Get a massage.
Listen to live music.
Dance.
Have a cocktail or beer or glass of wine.
Take golf lessons.
Hang out with my grandbabies.
Plan a party.
Plan a vacation.
Eat right.
Drink lots of water.
Do something nice for somebody.
Stop and breathe.

I'm sure there is much more, but that's a good start.

Something before work

A couple of years ago, at around this time of year, I started getting sick. It progressed into bronchitis, lasted a few weeks, left for a week, and then returned with a vengeance. I didn't have health insurance at the time and my budget held no extra funds for doctors visits and prescriptions, so I just toughed it out. It was quite horrible. I had a short vacation to Park City, Utah, planned for President's Day weekend. It fell right in the middle of my second round of being deathly ill. But damn it, I wanted to go on that trip. So I did. I marveled at the beauty of Utah in winter as I lay back in the passenger seat of the car. I remember seeing the big sign for the Hole in the Rock house. When we got to my friend's brother's house in Salt Lake City I went to bed. The next morning, he got up early to hit the slopes and I slept in. Later, the brother and I drove to Park City and met him for lunch. I was still so very sick. But I did it. The rest of the weekend is a blur to me. I'm not sure what happened. I think I was delirious, because my memories are mixed in with other trips and vacations I took when I lived in Colorado. When I think back on it now, I marvel at my perseverance and, as some might say, stupidity. But would I do it again? In a heartbeat.