A Love Song To My Street.

Just in case you haven't been twatching twitter over the last 48 hours, there have been a whole heck of a lot of entries from people in Houston with attachments that look something like this (from my favorite rock star photographer):

Why do we live here again?

Well, honestly, there are about 3 kabillion reasons why. One of them is the 6 million people who live here with us. And many of them grew up somewhere with someone who taught them how to cook. So it's flavorful.

But that's another post entirely.

The truth is, despite the randomly intense heat, things grow here. Businesses. Families. Savings accounts. And every kind of plant imaginable.

I don't know how Houston got this ugly smoggy nasty wrap. (Oh yeah I do, the multi-million dollar Presidential ad campaign that my political contribution contributed to. Thanks a lot, John Kerry.) But the truth is, it's just kind of awesome here. And the other day The Hurricane and I took a walking photo tour to show you.

We walked from our front door to the end of the block and over and back. Short trip. But we had a lot of material to work with. Because there are flowers everywhere. At our feet.

Above our heads.
In the trees.

And there are a lot of trees.

A lot of trees.

And flowers.
Cool ones.

And fragrant ones.

Right now everytime I walk out my door, I get a waft of sweet Jasmine.

And somehow this aromatherapy works to counterbalance the mind-numbing temperatures created by our current heat wave.

At least that's what I keep telling myself.

TGIM

Maybe it's because yesterday was the longest day of the year. Or maybe because it was literally 104F only 24 hours ago. But I'm really glad it's today. The first day of the rest of my life.

Because I just remembered that, inspired by Maggie's bucket list, I made this 4/15 to 4/15 list (or 4152415 yo) on 4/16, the other first day of the rest of my life. And so far I've only accomplished one of the 38 things on the list. And that was the easy one.

I sucketh.

But, fear not me, I have 9 months and 24 days to go. Which is basically as long as it took my body to make a whole awesome person. So for sure there's still time to accomplish 37 more things.

I'll keep you posted on the rest of the list as I continue to kick its arse.

The War Against Toys

I rarely feel exceptionally anomalous about anything, and this is especially so when I make statements like, "Hey, people. You know what, I just can not stand clutter! I know, weird right?"

Or not. Because honestly, who likes it?

I'm fairly certain even those people on that guy's show, the people who live with crap and cats everywhere, even those hoarders... deep down in their "I should keep this, I might need it one day" souls... even those guys hate the clutter.

So I'm not spouting off anything revolutionary when I say one of the items on my Tax Day to Tax Day list is climbing the mountain of toys in The Hurricane's room and throwing that shit out.

Now don't get me wrong, each and every primary-colored plastic item had its day. And for the seconds of distraction or smidgens of brain development they each contributed to, I'll be forever grateful. (And I promise, I'll find them brand new mouths of slobber to show them the love.) But seriously, dude. The time has come for them to pack it up and move it on from our quaint little cottage of tinyness.

Frankly, I was a little nervous about how The Hurricane would handle the passing of the torch. The giving of the toys. The moving of the on. But it turns out, the Mac lover doesn't fall far from either parental tree. Because both his father and I dig the simple, and the kid totally got that.

When the process started I would pull out items by category, like, let's say, blue trucks. Then I'd give him to option to keep four of the 20 he currently owned. Finally, when we were on to stuffed animals, he said, "Mommy, I really only want this one." And from that point on, between SQUEEEEES! of happiness, I cycloned through the room picking up every item and pointing it in his general direction for a final Judgement Day keep nod or lose toss. Nine times out of ten, it was a toss.

And in the process, this child, my child, he made it very simple to cross my first item off the list.

I couldn't be more proud. He helped me get it in gear. He made my day. He made one Catholic church preschool room very happy. And our space is all the better for it.

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch, who watches over you?

I'm super late for Love Thursday. Which is about how I roll. In. Late. Apt to catch the last train when it comes to recognizing the simple truths, the purest ambitions, the truest loves.

But I usually get there. Eventually. Usually. Hopefully. In time.

I've been thinking about time lately. Partly because I'll be attending my 20th high school reunion this weekend. And partly because I watched Benjamin Button last Friday for the first time. And it seems that flashbacks of giant 80s hair combined with a cheesy Brad Pitt movie are powerful tonics to get one thinking about the trajectory of our lives and the characters we are in the stories along the way.

A lot of thinking. And here's what I figured out that I know.

Nothing.

The older I get, the more I learn, the more I think, the more I realize that my tiny brain in my tiny body that runs through my tiny life is just that. That plus, add in the visuals James pointed out that Robyn from Belgium (who always finds the best stuff!) posted on kirtsy a few weeks ago of a site full of amazing shots of our own universe. Which is relatively tiny. Only enormous. Well, you can see how the mind blows.

And so as I sit here in my tiny-ness, in our tiny-ish universe, in the very grand scheme of things, I worry and fret and rearrange chairs and point fingers and compare everything from apartments to stock portfolios, when really I'm just working to make small things bigger. Because I only have so much time in my small space here.

Of course, on the other hand, as anyone who has ever lived with a newborn discovers, small isn't insignificant. And it seems in the tiny drops of our lives, there is one significant thing that makes us feel like giants. When we feel love...and when we feel loved...we feel immense, monumental, unstoppable.

And there's still time for that. For all of us. Even for those of us who are usually running late. So keep the nightlight on.

Mondays Are Beautiful

This morning, before I even had coffee, I sat through two meetings that I think I meant to cancel, but didn't remember to until I was already seated around a conference table.

You know that feeling when you wake up from a stressful dream and you realize, whew, thank God, that’s over? This was basically the opposite.

I was buzzing along shepherding Harry through the typical Monday morning clothes wearing, teeth brushing, stuff finding, cubby dispensing, kissy hugging, getting ready and dropping off routine. And then I moved ahead on autopilot into whatever it was that I committed myself to the week before. Which always seems like a good idea at the time. But is never a good idea when it comes to Monday morning.

So without putting on makeup or pouring a cup of anything, I found myself sitting around a table where seven sets of eyes looked at me as someone asked something in my direction that sounded like, “So, what do you have to report on that?” It was only about 45 seconds before the question was posed that I remembered, ‘Oh yeah, I was going to cancel this so I could watch Jenny get painted.’Just another morning in my current life.

A life that is very different from the one that I led not all that long ago.

Of course now it makes perfect sense to skip a meeting to go watch my friend paint the last paragraph of her novel on another friend while a third friend photographs it all. My life. My friends. My heavens, I'm blessed.
So as soon as I could, I retreated to the fancy backyard to watch it all finish up.

Afterwards, we went into Katherine’s mom’s kitchen, and I poured my first cup of coffee while the three of them looked through what turned out to be almost a still movie reel of colorful shots (You can see Karen's whole beautiful set here).
Right after that Jenny read us a chapter of the novel she’s working on (Holy crap, is it amazing. I really can’t wait for it you to read it.)
Then Katherine and Karen talked about their latest adventures. And, as is becoming the norm, I sat there in awe and in celebration with my friends. Wide awake and aware of all the accomplishments, capacities and grace around the table.

Not a bad way to spend a Monday before noon.

UPDATE: Check out Jenny's post about this, Katherine's post about this, Karen's post about this. And the beautiful final result video.

The Round Table

Last night I met up with a couple of my lovely friends as part of a Gadling feature on staycations.

Because it's time. For vacations. And staycations. And all kinds of cations in between.

Just yesterday morning I was talking with someone who was leaving for an extended vacation in San Francisco, and I mentioned my theory that SF was like Disneyworld for adults...complete with illustrated maps of caves, and treasures, and towers and Seal rock! And by the end of the convo, I was plotting ways to hide in her suitcase.

But I'm thinking more and more about staycations. And I'm thinking with all the coolness around here...the people, the places, the possibilities...it's going to be a really great summer.

So what are you doing for Memorial Day?

*Lovely photo from last night completely stolen from Karen the Great. To see it in all its glory, visit it here.

The Most Amazing Sandwich in the History of the World

This weekend was so busy. So busy, in fact, I'm still reeling from the reels. But I'll stop long enough to share one thing that happened. The best sandwich in the land was created in my kitchen. True story.

I was craving strawberries and serendipidously ran across the above photo and accompanying Southern Living recipe. Perfect. A strawberry sandwich.

Tips: Use Italian bread. Add some turkey, thin brie, fresh basil, thin sliced strawberries, and um, oh I know, fig preserves. Really. Hot press it, and you are so good to go.

The fresh basil/fig preserves combo seriously makes it happen.
Trust me on this one.

**Top photo stolen directly from the beautiful Southern Living right here.

The Path Ahead

I've had a hard time writing lately. This is extremely unusual for me, and I'm primarily blaming the ubiquitous block on a busy mind and low carb intake. Or possibly it's the economy. Or Carrot Top. Freak. In any event, my mind is disseminated. Also unusual. And frankly, I'm a bit out of my element here.

I just keep thinking about this one really hot Texas summer evening in approximately 1977. I was on a walk home with my very elderly but sprightly grandfather. We were probably only about 800 steps from his house, but it seemed like miles and miles that would melt me into exhausted nothingness right after my six-year-old legs fell off. I started complaining. And whining. And cursing the day I ever let him talk me into walking with him anywhere. And why the hell wouldn't he carry me?! My fit is legendary.

But he just kept going.

Then he turned around to my three-foot self and said, "Look, you can flail about all you want, but it's not going to change anything. The only way home is to keep walking down the path."

Fantastic advice.

Now where the hell is the path?

*Photo was taken two blocks from my front door.

The Winner: Lavender Blue

I asked, you answered. And the winner is, #4, or Benjamin Moore Lavender Blue #1438. Good choice, people. I'll keep you posted on the progress. And thanks for your brilliance. It will most likely be beyond beautiful. If not, we're totally in a fight.

Souvenirs

I returned from New York very early Sunday morning, and as I pulled up to the house, The Hurricane literally ran out of the door screaming, “Happy Mother’s Day! We made your flowers! And pancakes!” Dreamy. Then he stopped in his tracks, got his priorities straight, and said, “So, what did you bring me?”

Because that’s what we do.

We come and go, bearing gifts.

This time I found the gifts to be way beyond expectations.

It’s bad enough when New Yorkers neurotically prattle on about how far superior their city is to any other planetary location, but when someone who doesn’t even live there resplendently gushes, well, I don’t know, it’s just lame.

But I can’t help myself.

The thing is, I just feel more alive when I’m in New York. Always have. Like more neurons are firing. It’s chemical, but there’s no formula. It makes no sense. I usually laugh and chalk this up to a past life experience, although I don’t believe in the nonsense. I can’t ignore the neurons.

This trip was particularly powerful. Perhaps it was the shortness of length and breath. It was a hectic 46 hours, almost all waking hours, of intense learning, meeting, presenting, hunting, gathering, consuming, viewing, parking, playing, discovering. It was simply lovely. Seeing swell pals is always a plus too.

So thank you, New York for a mainline of inspiration, passion, energy, momentum, and understanding. Even better souvenirs than usual.

The Hurricane didn’t do too bad either. His new Star Trek shirt rocks it out.

An Unexpected Excursion

I'm going to visit my favorite city today. On a bit of a whim. Unexpected adventures really are the ultimate treat. I'll let you know how it goes.

This is Why I'm Not All "Here".

This last three weeks scores third in the race to weird-go0d transition in my life (so far that I can tell). I'm working on a post about that. But in the meantime, I'm spending a lot of sensory free-time on Blip.fm. It's like Twitter. With music. Which is like adding ice cream to the cocaine. At least as I imagine all that.

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Since I'm not drinking margaritas this May 5th (for no good reason), I'm enjoying my Cinco de Mayo with Etsy, Sliding Doors, Bridget Jones & Sense and Sensibility. This is ridiculous and obviously absent of celebratory theme except that all the movies happen to be set in London. Which is clearly not very Cinco de Mayo at all. CdM: FAIL! But here's what I'd buy on Etsy, if I were properly drinking a margarita (on the rocks, as any sane person should).

The above lovely from aymujer.

And this bracelet from ShrunkenCatHead.

The light blue patter from atelierBB

Margarita daisy glasses from moontinis
They're so happy, aren't they?

Frida Kahlo magnets from missbutler.

Let's Dance giftags from wearwolf.

I am, however, reading though the final edits of the kirtsy book, which contains a fantastic margarita recipe. So there is hope for next year.

Cheers!

Just Write the Damn Thing.

7:42 p.m. I have this thing I need to write. It's been hanging over my head for 18 days now. 18 days! I know. Bad. And I've put it off as long as I possibly can. But first I'll get Harry to bed.

8:02 p.m.- Harry's in bed.

8:03 p.m. - I think I'll watch Gossip Girl on DVR.

8:51 p.m. - Now Greek. Shut up.

9:32 p.m. - Okay I'm going to start writing now.

9:33 p.m. - But first I'll check Twitter.

9:44 p.m.- For real. Writing.

9:45 p.m.- I think I should make coffee first.

9:46 p.m.- I'm making coffee. Decaf. Because somehow that's less insane to make at 9:46 p.m.

9:51 p.m. - Okay. Writing now. Where were those notes?

10:23 p.m.- Must stop writing to watch important Harry Potter 6 trailer. Totally can't wait until July. I am 12.

10:30 p.m. - Writing again. Boring boring. Did I mention that I am 12?

10:54 p.m. - Must make Facebook Scrabble move. Everyone is waiting for me. It's just polite.

10:57 p.m. - While here on Facebook, decide to look at high school class page/photos. Noting who has partaken in boob jobbage.

11:06 p.m. - Writing.

11:21 p.m. - Writing.

11:47 p.m. Breakthrough.

1:22 a.m. Done.

Now that wasn't so hard was it?

It just took 18 days of fretting over what amounted to about 3 1/2 hours of work.

Procrastination is dumb.

Love Is All Around.

A couple of weekends ago, we went to my Mother-in-law's house in Dallas, and I spent some time taking photos of her ginormous backyard. It's really spectacular. The thing is, I'm not a smart enough photographer to capture how cool it looks as an entire garden. I could only get the details that make up the whole.

I'm just the opposite in life. I usually miss a lot of the cool stuff because I'm focusing too much on the big-picture overarching how-the-hell-are-we-gonna-get-there stuff. I forget to pay attention to the beauty along the path. But it's all around.

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.
--Annie Dillard