BEATSVILLE

Love

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 22:57:00 +0000

Last night I made three Valentines. Hard to believe it is that time of year again. I wasn't able to make any last year and felt a bit rusty but it was fun to sit down and play. This year I am working from a truncated box of paper and card making supplies but have all the essentials. Working on ideas and plan on making more.

Pale Yellow Graces

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 01:10:00 +0000

Small graces bestowed upon me in the midst of chaos are never wasted. Despite how imperfect a day I might be having, finding that moment of bliss and beauty has the ability to make whatever was weighing on my mind pass. After a trying day with little good news, I entered the evening still distracted and agitated. I set foot in the kitchen, not in the best of moods, breaking a longstanding, personal rule.

My cast iron skillet needed a quick seasoning so I poured some olive oil into it and set the burner on high. In the process of whisking eggs to scramble, I reached for the heavy cream instead of the milk. I then poured the mixture into the overheated skillet. Exasperated over having maybe ruined my eggs I turned off the burner. That is when the happy accident occurred. As I quickly scrambled the eggs the shiny, black skillet showcased the pale, yellow creaminess of the eggs. It was a beautiful contrast. I worked quickly to avoid scorching my meal. I noticed how the temperature of the skillet ended up working well with what I was doing and the eggs were done after three simple folds of my spatula. They were so fluffy and actually quite exquisite. I saw that not a trace of them was left behind in the skillet. I slept well that night.

Picking up new habits....

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 09:33:00 +0000

"If a man moves confidently in the direction of his dreams and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."
~H. D. Thoreau

This quote by Thoreau came into my head while on a walk today. It was incomplete and the part I remembered kept swimming in mind. I continued to go over and over it in my head as if it were a piece of stale chewing gum that I couldn't get going. Finally, after several minutes, I was able to abandon it. It was replaced with the thought that I am where I should be and enjoying every minute of it. The walk, a new habit.

Let's go to the flea market...

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 22:27:00 +0000

I longed to hear a rooster crow, smell manure, pet a bunny and see some goats, so we headed for the flea market this weekend. It felt great to be around these animals. I was only able to shoot a few photos as there was much activity; many of the animals were going to new homes, others being fed and kept hydrated, some coming out of their cages just to get loved on. Time spent here was well worth it. My husband found a few clean vinyl gems and I got my chicken, bunny, goat, pony, puppy fix.

12th Day

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 17:54:00 +0000

Bidding farewell to the holidays and the southern winter. Soon we will be back north just in time for snow. Planning on a small cup of Mexican hot chocolate this evening to mark the 12th day of Christmas and end of the season. We'll lay the tree quietly to rest outside.

On New Year's Eve we enjoyed a pizza pie, again. It was much improved upon and even yummier than the previous one. That cozy meal was followed by fireworks, big and brilliant in the backyard. At midnight I toasted with sparkling cherry. My first alcohol free New Year's Eve since I was twelve.

Have been resting up and slowly gathering and organizing, preparing to take off again. I'll miss Texas, friends and family. However, I have come to love the excitement of new places, faces. Wishing you all a great year!

Got Hitched

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 21:12:00 +0000

On a beautiful, sunny afternoon in January,
time stood still. It was the 10th day of Christmas.

Back in town...

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 00:22:00 +0000

We spent a very short time in Austin this week, too short. It felt like the warmest December in decades when we were there but I loved it. On a beautiful, sunny day we sat in the sun and ate tacos and chalupas at Taco Shack. We were also able to dine at Cheko's where I picked up some tips on making carne asada. It was like I never left, it was like I had been gone forever, it is where I spent all of my adult life until now.

Traveling around I come upon Austin-esque places. Pittsburgh, PA, Bloomington, IN, parts of Indianapolis, IN and Baltimore, MD all contained a little corner that made me feel I was back in Austin. What makes Austin, Austin, are my friends and familiar faces. Every now and then, when in an "Austin place" I search the crowd and for a second think I recognize someone, just for a second.

I won a major award!

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 06:02:00 +0000

I won, I won, I won! On Christmas eve I received notice that my name was drawn! The contest was held at:

Read all about the goodies I will soon be receiving here. I am so excited!

Present

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 05:51:00 +0000

Yesterday My Guy surprised me with a freshly cut tree to decorate. I had been pining for a pine since we got back to Texas but between the miles and the December days running us over, a tree sort of got lost in the shuffle. When I saw him holding the East Texas loblolly pine my heart melted. He had cut it down himself. This tree is by far the best Christmas gift I have ever received and the Christmas tree I will always remember. I grabbed some scissors, construction paper, glue and started on decorations. It felt good to make something again. It was a gray day that turned into a cozy evening. We made a pizza pie for the first time that turned out rather delicious and warmed more than my tummy. I heard it begin to rain as I put the lights on the tree. Christmastime is here, it is hard not to be present.

Mother of All Mexico

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 05:21:00 +0000

Santiago once told me that on December 12th you are supposed to ask her anything and she'd understand, she'd listen and she'd deliver.

The tilma that hangs at the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico city is said to be the original image given to Juan Diego. The worship of the Virgen de Guadalupe is not Catholic, it actually offends many Catholics, but it is very much part of the Mexican culture. If she was created to convert the indigenous people into Catholics, the plan failed. She became the Goddess to a country of indigenous people who had been orphaned by their pagan gods and raped by European conquerors. She belongs to them and they go to her for everything.

These are the days...

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 02:57:00 +0000

Me, in front of a vintage motor lodge in New Oxford, PA. We spent a week here and I was able to enjoy movie after movie on TCM. We took little day trips to neighboring towns that looked exactly like little Christmas villages and were decorated a full two weeks before Thanksgiving. My outfit matches the siding and my figure the scallops of the door. I noticed this before the photo was taken, so I felt a bit silly. Happy days.

Pittsburgh

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 22:42:00 +0000

Passing restaurants, bars and businesses bearing names of Ukrainian and Polish origin, each looking hazy as if draped with a light, gray veil, behind them a long rusty steel mill by desolate railroad tracks, this is Pittsburgh. When we left the motel room, a few miles out of the city, it was a sunny day. I placed my sunglasses on my head expecting to use them. The sun always seems to disappear entering Pittsburgh. I wanted so much to take photos of the melancholic buildings and lonely landscapes we saw but to stop, aim and shoot would ruin the poetry of the drive and I didn't want even the briefest pause. I was enjoying the rhythm of the scenery: Naked trees, falling buildings, fading row houses scattered on distant hilltops. A photo would be insignificant, it would be out of context. To appreciate, one needs to see it all at once because piece by piece inspires judgment.

"Chelo"

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 19:33:00 +0000

In Del Rio, the bank and a few insurance agents used to pass out ball point pens with white tops and red bottoms that actually provided four different ink colors with the flip of a tab: red, green, blue and black. They were always a treat to play with.

Consuelo "Chelo" Gonzalez Amezcua was a Del Rio resident when I was a little girl. It was years after she passed and I was in junior high that I discovered who she was and what she did with pens like these. I wish I had been old enough to appreciate her when she was alive. You can read more her about here.

Thanksgiving

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 04:13:00 +0000

Last year I spent Thanksgiving with my family in my hometown surrounded by lifelong familiarities. The scents coming from the kitchen, the faces around me at the dinner table as we happily dined on the foods we could count on to taste just as they always have. I am very thankful for that Thanksgiving because we were able to be together.

This year I find myself in Pennsylvania and Thanksgiving dinner was at an elegant restaurant next door to our motor lodge. The dinner and pumpkin pie were impressive both in presentation and flavor. Our server was the restaurant owner, a very nice gentleman who made us feel like we had known each other for some time. It was a pretty day and as I looked across the street after dinner I saw a thick line of pines and spruces, real Christmas trees growing naturally. For a week I have enjoyed the chain of small towns that resemble Christmas villages, savoring the scents and holiday cheer.

So far this new life has been filled with all sorts of gifts. From time to time I have stopped and wondered what possessed me to be so un-me, not me, opposite of the usual me? It had to be something quite Divine to have me welcoming the unknown the way I did. I am thankful for the courage I had to leave my comfort zones. Because I did I have found wonderful things that life has to offer. Today was rich.

Chewing on the grass...again

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 19:10:00 +0000

I caught the end of Splendor in the Grass again last night. I have said it before, how the ending to this film is something that I seem to like to think about when I have nothing else to pour my thoughts over. It is different each time, however, the conclusions I drew from the ending last night were unlike past thoughts inspired in previous viewings.

This time I noticed how Deanie's friend approaches Bud to let him know that Deanie is in the car and would like to see him. He doesn't seem like he wants to see her, he isn't all that excited. Then Deanie runs up the driveway to greet him dressed as a bride and her enthusiasm reminding us of their days in school. For that moment she is as she always was. Once she get's up to him, there is no hug, no pat on the back, not even a handshake from Bud. He does smile and seem genuinely happy to see her, not as excited as she seems though.

Once again, I view Bud's home as a happy one, it is simple and clean, he has a little boy with a child along the way. He and his wife seem to live as they care too, no mind to the conventions or formalities of the day. Deanie looks around and seems disappointed, nearly cringes.

Deanie picks up Bud Jr. and holds him close and the camera shows us the uncomfortable faces of both Bud and Angelina. Once again, it seems that Bud seems uncomfortable with this visit than invested in it in any way. Deanie is the past, a past he left behind along with the death of his sister, father and collapse of a family fortune. He is now free of his responsibilities and expectations of his family of his past. He now created his own family and is living life more on his terms. When this scene begins, we find him happily working on his farm and speaking of new cows purchased.

It is Deanie who put on a pretty dress, and again, for a moment, reminded us of the heartbroken teen who wanted to look good for the dance and wore her red flapper's dress and bobbed her hair. She prepared for the visit, Bud was not prepared and I get the feeling that even if he knew she was coming he would not even had washed his hands and continued working until she arrived.

When she asks Bud if he is happy and he says he doesn't ask himself that very often. I thought, do happy people ask themselves if they are happy? Wouldn't a man who has lost all that Bud has lost take what comes? He has had to. Does Deanie ask this because if she put herself in Angelina's shoes, as Bud's wife, would she be happy with the life Bud now has? Is it hard for her to think she would be happy as Bud's wife and therefore wonders if Bud is happy with what he has after losing the life he had, perhaps a life Deanie liked so much more. Is Deanie pursuing her mother's ambitions after all? She does seem to think marrying a doctor is nice to say, despite not showing much emotion for the doctor himself.

When Bud returns to his wife Angelina, who is looking defeated having been blindsided by this visit, caught in a frock and messy hair, and he asks when they eat... could it be that Deanie's visit had little effect on him? This was a bigger deal for the woman of his past and his wife, not him. Seeing his wife feeling bad, he gives her a passionate kiss, who wouldn't want a kiss like that from Bud?! He loves her, he has a family with her and he is happy?

Does this visit finally allow Deanie to move on? We never see her get excited about her marriage to John the doctor, she always seems so lukewarm about it to me. We never see the wedding, we can only guess that she went through with it.

It is in the car that she seems to find a place to finally place her past with Bud. Does the car ride itself mean she still has a long road ahead? I now think Bud is happy.

The ending is still open. However I am drawing these conclusions:

The ending has been described as devastating, and I think it is only true if you expected the characters or wanted the characters to remain together and even if you wanted to see pining between both characters. I once saw pining between the two but I don't see that anymore. Devastating is Deanie Loomis who became a serious victim of what should have been nothing more than puppy love, her mother's dominance, the times and how breakdowns were viewed...she is now stigmatized.

Out of the mouths of babes...

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 02:37:00 +0000

My favorite food du jour is gajar halva, an Indian carrot dessert. It can be made to be a very rich pudding or a subtle and sweet, warm carrot salad. The Indian restaurant next door to the hotel makes it on the light side and I love it so much. This afternoon I set out once again to place a pick-up order for gajar halva and found a child's birthday party in progress.

The ballroom in the restaurant was decorated with red and white balloons and tables were covered with pretty red and white tablecloths. The children were running about laughing, shouting and chasing each other. It looked like a fun and formal occasion.

Once I placed my order I sat in the lobby of the restaurant where, across from me, three, well dressed and well behaved little boys were sitting on a couch engaged in a serious conversation. I later found out their ages were six, seven and ten. When I heard one of them mention diamonds I thought perhaps they were speaking of a video game.

I then I heard the six year old explain."Silver is worth more than cheap metals, but gold is worth more than silver and platinum looks silver but is worth more than gold, you see?"

The seven year old said, "But what I am saying is that a diamond, a big diamond, is worth more than any of those."

The ten year old chimed in with,"No, no, you did not say that, you did not, what you said was a big, big diamond is just like gold and it is not like gold, it beats gold."

To which the six year old replied,"There are times when even a big, big, giant diamond is not worth more than platinum, it depends."

Then they all started to speak at once. I sat there flummoxed and deeply intrigued. I couldn't stand it any longer and had to interrupt,"Excuse me, how old are you three boys?"

After I learned their ages I was impressed and figured that they had family in the jewelry business. Before I could ask anything else, a group of little girls suddenly came in, chasing balloons, laughing and screaming. Some were wearing opulent saris and others dressed in puffy party dresses and sporting tiny, gold and silver heels. One of them stood in front of me and mimicked my way of sitting. I have often had my gestures or way of speaking mocked by children before, starting when I was a kid myself. The way I had my arms crossed with my finger against my chin seemed to irritate her so she stood in front of me and crossed her arms in the same fashion then squealed, "Eeeeee, ooooooooo", turning her mouth down while shaking her hips and shoulders. I laughed and they ran off.

The ten year old across from me then winked and smiled. I did a double take. Then the seven year old whispered something into his ear and ran off. The ten year old whispered something into the ear of the six year old who then looked at me with a cold, hard stare for all of five seconds before sternly remarking,"No, you should find a rich girlfriend."

I did not think I was looking impoverished today. I was dressed rather sharply, or so I thought. It was a very chic ensemble with new, black leather boots, black jeans and a new, black turtleneck. My hair was neatly done in my signature up-do. I was even wearing plum lipstick and liquid eyeliner (I started wearing it again). I was neat and clean. What about my vintage, Navajo ring with it's outstanding, large turquoise cabochon that usually brings in so many compliments? Not a cheap relic by any means, despite being only silver. Was it the baby bump? I giggled but they remained serious.

A few minutes later the ten year old looked at me and shyly smiled and then turned to his wiser friend and said, "She is poor but pretty, right?"

Again, what was it about me that looked so "poor" to these young fellows. So I pulled out my compact to see if I had smut on my face and to check my hair. I was cracking a bit under such scrutiny. I heard a loud laugh when I opened the mirror to look at myself.

The six year old then pointed and said, "Look, your girlfriend, she's looking at how pretty she is, ooooooo!"

He laughed and laughed and the 10 year old only smiled sheepishly, looked down then tried to cover his friend's mouth and said in a low voice, "Noooo, stop, you are being rude."

I couldn't keep a straight face. The six year old then grabbed his friend's hand and off they went to join the party. My order was ready and I went up the stairs to pay for it. As I was coming down the two boys were on their way up again. I was so tempted to ask these two sweet faces what I could do to look a bit more affluent. I imagined they had an answer I probably didn't need to hear.

How my world turns

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Tue, 08 Nov 2011 16:41:00 +0000

It is rare that I ever come across a truly unattractive person. The world around me has always been filled with attractive people it seems. Every now and then someone lacking inner beauty or that spark in their eyes will pass by. Often, what I see or who I see isn't what or who others see and nothing drives home the fact that we are each a small world more than that. Once you realize that you are a small world and the person next to you, a completely different small world, life is easier.

The other evening, at dinner, I thought our waitress looked like Elizabeth Taylor, she was so beautiful. Perhaps the way she applied her make-up. She did not have violet eyes but her face otherwise was Liz Taylor's circa 1965 or so. Through my mind flashed photos of Liz Taylor and then I recalled Sarita Montiel. I was surprised at how long it had been since I thought of the Spanish actress. It is because of her that I learned to raise one eyebrow in photos. An affectation I can't seem to change and would like to.

Sarita Montiel was up there with Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth, Lupe Velez, Ingrid Bergman and all the other gorgeous faces in my old movie books. At thirteen and fourteen I was easily carried away by their photos into a glamorous world filled with impeccable clothes, flawless hair, perfectly applied eyeliner...I wanted so much to one day carry myself like these glamour girls. I don't know how successful I was, but for a decade the way I shaped my eyebrows and did my eyeliner was influenced by the old photographs. I was lucky enough to own vintage dresses that fit me like a glove and had my dreamy moments {in as glamorous a world as I could ever have}. I decided, just that evening, I had succeeded after all.

I then found myself ordering sweet potato fries in a flannel shirt, jeans and boots. When my boyfriend asked me what was wrong, I said,"Nothing". How does a woman explain that she is so happy and thrilled to be four months pregnant and sitting across from the most gorgeous and loving man she's ever known and yet just shed a few, small, invisible, superficial tears over a glamour girl left behind long ago? The once 36-24-38 hottie who could be found wearing a curve hugging, green, velvet, vintage dress with killer liquid liner, vampy lips and cha-cha heels on a Saturday night has exited. It is hard to explain, it is something that has to be experienced, so... really, nothing. The fries arrived and after four of them, my thoughts were on how the waiter across the room could play Oscar Wilde in a biopic.

The next day I came across a record by Sarita Montiel. Her photo inspired no pining, and the price made me put it back. I had been thinking how much I loved the name Robert Diego for a boy and Anna Maria August for a girl. We are such complex little worlds.

My Style

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 16:45:00 +0000

This scene from the I Love Lucy Show has Lucy wearing a Pendleton 49er. The company still makes these wool jackets. They were created in 1949 and could be paired with a matching skirt or pair of pants, also offered by the company. Cinched at the waist with a simple leather belt and you achieve a sharp silhouette, you'll feel like a woman in a Douglas Sirk film. The women in his films frequently wore sharp wools and tweeds in outdoor scenes.

I had a vintage, grey flannel 49er that I ended up giving my friend in exchange for her black, leather motorcycle jacket. I don't regret the trade, I only wish I could find another vintage 49er.

Ethel's cable knit, sweater and the pants she is sporting are something I wish I had as well. Love the detailing in those back pockets. The country style way of dressing in the late 40's early 50's is a look that I still love. It is a style that seems to be having a slight resurgence in the past few years. I see cowichan inspired sweaters, Pendleton inspired flannels and prints, the return of Minnetonka, capes, shawls and ponchos.

It would be nice to see these once well made Mexican sweaters available again. I have wanted one for almost twenty years now but Mexico started putting out cheap versions in the early 80's and now you can't even find anything like it. They were available for a season here and there three years or so ago.

Those calf length, A-line, wool plaid skirts paired with black scoop necks and turtlenecks (cashmere) are another favorite look. I'd like to own a really nice pair of wool pants, cuffed or sharply tapered like those pants Laura Petrie wore on the Dick Van Dyke show.

But most of all, it would be wonderful to have a really creative fashion designer with good taste create beautiful maternity clothes.

Snowflake

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Thu, 03 Nov 2011 03:50:00 +0000

We actually got to experience a real wintery day last weekend, here in Baltimore. We left the hotel early in the morning and spent most of the day in Fell's Point and Hampden. We enjoyed the freezing temperatures that continued to drop and of course the snow that would fall here and there.

We had the best miso soup with portobello mushrooms for lunch at Liquid Earth. It was filling, cozy and hit the spot.
The day was spent window shopping, buying winter outerwear and visiting special kitties at record stores. For dinner we filled up on comfort food from New Mexico at Golden West. It was a most perfect day.

El Dia de los Muertos

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 10:27:00 +0000

Every year, in mid-October, I would put up an altar to celebrate Dia de los Muertos. I would keep it up until the fresh flowers bought on November 1st would dry. This photo is from last year and will be my virtual altar this year. Note the space for a tray of pan de dulce that had to be removed because of the cats.

There is always a candle lit in my heart for my loved ones with altars of memories. It looks like one huge collage of photos and little films playing over and over. The altars are done to encourage visits from the dead. It works. On Monday I dreamt of my Abuelito. He came to visit, here at the hotel, and sat on the bed across from me and congratulated me. He told me he was so happy for us and that he already knew my boyfriend,"Es un muchcacho bueno, ya lo conosco, Mijita." Then he continued with all the consejos he has always told me since I was a little girl. It was so very real and I loved seeing and hearing him again. I love having a day that celebrates life so much.

Baltimore

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 11:53:00 +0000

We have managed to locate antique stores, record stores and flea markets, have enjoyed dining at Indian, Nepalese and Ethiopian restaurants and stumbled upon one of the best street festivals I've been too in October, here in Baltimore.

The familiar sound of seagulls still manage to catch me by surprise every now and then. I am getting more and more use to seeing them flying about. I forget that we are near water. When we have been in the older part of the city and passed the harbor, it is easy to imagine Baltimore as a quaint seaport with cobblestone streets and taverns.

The changing colors of the leaves paired with cloudy, crisp mornings have me looking forward to the holiday season. It feels like the festivities began weeks ago though.

Living in the present...

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 00:30:00 +0000

Here comes lovely, wonderful, beautiful change. As if things had not changed enough this year, more surprises were in store and are now well on their way.

Lizzie

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 17:12:00 +0000

My kitty and I have so much in common. She genuinely and earnestly loves everything I love. In this video she is seen listening to and swooning over Beny More. I had no idea she was as into him as I am. I also discovered today that Como Fue is her favorite Beny More song too! So many shared interests.

Purple Moonlight Pages

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Tue, 27 Sep 2011 22:18:00 +0000

Instead of counting sheep, on those nights when I can't fall into an immediate deep and perfect sleep, my mind traces over old thoughts, ancient thoughts, thoughts I had back when I was a kid. Such was the case last night when I heard the far away sound of a train whistle blowing. It went off three times, in the wee hours, confirming it was real and not an auditory hallucination. Right away I thought back to the night I laid in bed, back in my childhood home, thinking of the abandoned hotel that sat next to the railroad tracks.

That night I went over the architecture and what I had seen through the dusty windows that day. How it stood exactly six windows wide and went back 16 windows. I counted and recounted them imagining who could have been at those windows "through the ages". I pictured men and women dress in 1920's dress clothes checking in, climbing the stairs, flicking on a light and taking in the sight of the town across the tracks. I went on to picture people from every era since then, staring out of windows from all sides of the hotel, taking in the sunrise on the east side, bothered by the neon and noise coming from the cafe across the street and staring out when the train passed at dusk to the west. My eyes stretched as far as they could that day wishing they could go around corners, up stairs, behind walls, into every room. I ached to explore the building. I wanted to know it, hear it speak and have it tell me all it's stories.

Last night I thought of how I am still correct in assuming that the hotel was once a very smartly decorated and efficient place, neat and organized. When it stood abandoned, the furniture inside was simple, clean lines, leather cushions, no signs of kitsch or garish vulgarity just stoic white walls, serious, dark stained wood trim and an art deco front desk. Handsome. It was just dusty, I thought, not gone, not broken. It stood year after year until the early 90's when for no reason it was bulldozed. There was nothing in the paper to commemorate or explain it's destruction. I mourned.

After I finished this lullaby of memories I realized I have always had a fascination with motels and hotels since I was a tiny kid. I have always liked them and enjoyed being in them. Was it already in the works, over thirty five years ago? I wondered if this time I am living now was already written decades ago. Then I drifted off to sleep with the word disproportionate on my tongue, referring to the amount of time spent riding trains, years that have passed since the hotel was torn down... Time has passed and created an imbalance. My life is no longer one third train rides or equal distance from when the hotel stood near the tracks.

I woke up early and craving something. It took all day to discover that all I needed was to watch Pull My Daisy. Each time I think of Robert Frank's Pull My Daisy I get all warm and fuzzy inside. What a collection of talent and creativity that came together for the 28 minute movie. On melancholic days, like today, when the heavy morning fog lingers past 8am and it seems that time creeps like pea soup on an old tablecloth, I could watch Pull My Daisy over and over and find something new each time. I find it incredibly edifying and it inspires other worldly thoughts.

Catch it when you can...

noreply@blogger.com (Tera) — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 01:07:00 +0000

A beautiful, bright, double rainbow appeared over us on the first day of fall in Baltimore, MD. It stretched from one side of the city to the other, thrilling us with it's size and colors. It was a magical moment I truly savored. Reminded me that these are the "good ole days", not to be forgotten.