Lots of posts about people all scaredy-catted to go see the new Stephen King It flick- me, I just feel like I’m off to visit an old friend. Count it a character flaw, a vice- trash in, trash out- yet still I view. Here’s a timely shadow found on my sister’s car seat formed from the sticker plastered on the window. For those in the know, it’s more than legible. ♦
Bean took me by the Kindness Trading Wall in Tacoma the other evening where love awaits to conk someone over the head. It was found among many other painted rocks- some humorous, some clever, the slightly novice mixed in with the more well crafted, and all an example of participation and effort. The bold pink underline rang out to me like a command: LOVE. So simple, just not always easy. Gonna keep trying, and you should too. ♦
If you think I’m documenting trees, you could be right. I’ve found several in recent times that really cream my puff- scratch that- turn my channel. I love this birch in my sister’s front yard- the papery barky bits peeling themselves back to reveal portions of trunk call to me every time. ♦
Funny, I don’t like the name Aunt nor Auntie, but being one has been life’s biggest highlight in recent years. Cutiepiemuffinhead. Hey, Beau-fo. Funny Bunny. Snugglepuff. CUDDLE PUFF. I don’t know how these silly word pairings occur, but they do. Little Bobby-Do, floofy bum-bum, bit of sugar candy love! Nonsensical fluff that must try-try-try to capture a love words could never express, love that wants to leap outta me for her. Just throwing out words till the love is apparent and covers everything in smiles and warmth and future. So much love that fear dareth try to rise up and steal it away. An open heart shared fully risks the deepest wound. Good. That’s what gives it value. I love having another person around to pour love into.
I’m reminded of Bean when we were little and slept in our parents’ bed with our mom (our dad slept on the floor downstairs in the rec room for a variety of reasons). We each had a bedroom, but preferred to be piled in with the mom. Bean’s sweet baby hair was soft and dark and smelled so sweet. Edie’s little coconut head (as my dad calls it) is perfectly reminiscent of Bean’s and I’m reliving it in a sense, a delicious déjà vu.
She’s my best little buddy, laughter and squeals upon my arrival often times, and always, always continuous smiles, her bright eyes following me until she’s sure I’m sticking around for a while. Maybe she senses the sheer love and delight I have for her and she responds to it, reciprocal mirrors. Thrills me to have someone be so happy I’m around. The soul is healed by being with children said Fyodor Dostoevsky.
Wonderstruck, we’d just finished dancing cheek to cheek back in September-Octoberish. Just before she became an active smiler like Auntie. Aside: those teeth are the product of braces. “How can that be?” I asked my dentist last year. Without diligent efforts to maintain their new position via a retainer, they more often than not move back to their former position. Clearly, I no longer have the retainer, but I do have the mold taken of my mouth pre-orthodontics, and they’re an eerie match now. Wish the doc had applied a permanent brace to the back of my top teeth like he did the bottom. I very much like them in person, but frozen in photos, they sometimes taunt me.
Foam. For those first few months, there were constant inquiries by Bean and my Dad about why I hadn’t been pooped on by the baby yet. They’d been pooped on (albeit through a diaper), and had a go at cleaning up the resulting mess. I kept hearing talk of foam, and how when you heard the foam, you knew there’d been a deposit, and best get up and begin a withdrawal. Foam, not a sound I’d ever encountered in many hours of babysitting and nannying in years past. Figured my sister had simply pegged the act with the wrong descriptor despite knowing that it’s one of the excrement types listed on those fascinating poop-a-day type calendars found in the likes of Spencer’s stores. I was holding Edie on the couch, when she did a subtle little shimmy-shake, and with a jaunty little nod of her tiny head, FOAM rang out as though a microphone were in the room. I’d been foamed! Verb of the day! The poo had happened! This made my dad and sister unusually joyous, as I was a marked woman, and delight they did. And wipe, did I.
A portion of the lovely capitol up in Victoria, BC. Shan and I missed that particular tour.
Heading down to Olympia on Sunday with Shannon for a tour of the capitol as it’s been a while. That is, if the inevitable attendance of anarchists at tomorrow’s Women’s March manage to leave it intact. But not before I get in a few weekend workouts. I’ve given myself sixish months to get back in better shape.
I gained tons of weight in my earlyish twenties when I got tired of being ogled and manhandled on the daily bus commute and pushily asked for dates after repeatedly stating I was engaged. I found peace in the safety brought by an outer cushion of fat, and because a thing can begin for one reason, and continue for another, the fat stayed from bad food habits and squelched metabolism. My sister’s been so good to keep a catalog of horrendous photos she’s captured of me over the years. I’m so ashamed of them (and this is no place for shame) that it makes me laugh. Up and down, down and up in the numbers, lots of up. The problem’s always the ease and proximity of people found in eating out and about (where calories live)- not having to face the never-ending cycle of meal prep alone at home, despite loving to cook.
Life has passed along for so long now with just a good baseline, no motivation to be more, but I need to play my part if I ever want a melody on top. ♦
Made this horrendous fella this week while watching more than my fair share of zombies. I call him Pretty Ugly due to his preference for pearls and sparkle. If you cover the left half of his face, he’s in a fairly neutral mood, but cover the right, and receive a dose of extra stink. Similar to my face below.
This is a test run of tomorrow’s costume for work festivities. Why Friday and not Monday, I wonder? Coraline, I am, the title character in a Neil Gaiman book (and animated film). I dig the blue wig, but vanity keeps me from enjoying the under drawn lips. Not noticeable here though thanks to the mouth twitchery. Spirit gummed a button to my eyelid area, it’s not going anywhere.
I heard Neil Gaiman speak last year up at the University of Washington. The cadence of his voice seems designed for reading books aloud. Recently finished his audiobook The Ocean At the End of the Lane. It was written for his wife, Amanda Palmer. He wove charming stories of how they met and their life together now, or then, painting a picture for the audience of the love and support and creativity they share. It was all very touching and inspiring at first, until I started to get the inkling that they may be one of those couples that needs an audience in order to have any chemistry.
He also spoke of his idols, of those famous folk out in the world that he’s tried his best not to run into at celebrity events because he was afraid of being disappointed in who they were in real life compared to in his mind. Top on his avoidance list? David Bowie. He went on to say that it was in fact, rather hard not to meet the man, due to being such good friend’s with David’s son, Duncan. I’m glad I got to hear Neil share his Bowie stories last year as opposed to this.
It was fun returning to walk the gorgeous campus grounds after all these years since attending there as a student.
It was fun returning to walk the gorgeous campus grounds after all these years since attending there as a student. Bean talked on about the times I’d take her to lectures with me and the impression that had on her tweenish years. Full-time student, full-time job, and helping my dad to raise my sister in place of my mom meant she got to meet curious professors enquiring of their young “new” student and be left to her own devices in the gorgeous Suzzallo Library while I took the occasional exam.
As we made our way through the dark along the lit paths, Bean questioned Shane about what the surroundings reminded him of to which he answered the Scream movies. This was the answer we were looking for. Further down the path, a pack of fraternity guys piled out of a nearby building cackling loudly as a large rat scurried in the opposite direction through the bushes along the wall. Coincidence? ♦