Tag Archives: joy



You may remember my niece, Edie! She kept me company all day today.

A story from weeks back… She doesn’t always watch BabyTV, but when she does, she starts off with great joy. Flipped on the channel and a smile lit across her face like flame to an octogenarian’s birthday cake. Then, a commercial dared come on. She flung herself backwards onto a pillow and plopped the bink in her mouth, where I found these eyes with the mostest looking up at me. Thanks, SlimFast commercial! ♦

XXXIX Quote, Images ‘n’ Clip of the Day

“Love implies anger. The man who is angered by nothing cares about nothing.” -Edward Abbey

• • • • • • •

For as much joy, elation and thrilling a time this life holds, it follows suit that it will also hold times of the very opposite. It’s comforting to know that any frustration felt from moments spent on anger is compensated by the thought that at its core may sometimes exists a positive: care.

Cappuccino In A Cup and Saucer

Painting of the Words

Steve Zahn and Jack Black?? Much funny for the money. Rewatch time … what?

To Write All the Words That Still Can’t Speak Her Mind

My mind’s been down roads it shouldn’t be as of late. Following paths to a time unspent.
Building memories on words not spoken and generally laying mayhem in place of peace.

I may explode.
A fine mess.

Glossy pieces of sunny yellow hope and joy laid waste amidst shards of razored pink pulp wet with the breadth of me.

Can I get a little reciprocation?
Giving me opaque when I need transparent.

Been at it so long, tempered and even, wanting to break out, grasp on, tune in, turn up to the fullness of another.

Show me everything.
Then take my all.

Out of the blue. And into the red. Can I turn it darker, a crimson before it fades to black once more leaving me my peace until another time when I can unfold it.

Yes, tuck it all back in for another time.
It’s a blossom out too soon.

A racket in my head now, not heard in so long. A low hum built to a clanging that has me caught up, gripped. Please just murmur. Soothe my hard-pressed thoughts.

It’s different than I knew. I looked and looked. Seeing too late is seeing too soon.
Sweet and dirty. Just what I need. ♦

Petty Indulgences

Petty: Of small importance; trivial
Indulgence: The act or an instance of indulging; gratification

A brief collection of items that, though, in and of themselves may appear inconsequential, combine in such a way as to fill my heart with delight and joy for each new moment.

Ready to begin piping the dough out into the wok.

Churros! All things churros, please. The cinnamon, the doughy center and slightly crunchy outer ridges. Most especially the super duper large ones available at the Costco snack bar. Better yet, making my own! Bean bought me a box of churro mix with my current obsession in mind. Having never deep-fried (nor desired to) a thing, I tentatively filled the wok with the suggested amount of cooking oil and set the temperature dial to just below high. Soon, the oil was popping and hissing and generally having a rolling good time. The box came with a sturdy pastry bag that I’d filled with the prepared mix. Ready to begin piping the dough out into the wok. They looked like happy little rows of yellow 2 pencils, minus the lead filling and pink nub eraser. In they went, out they came moments later, right into a pile of cinnamon sugar for a coating or two before being stacked like Lincoln Logs onto a massive platter. (Nevermind the mixed comparisons relating my cooking to that of wood, mmm, tasty, in both cases.) They were fantabulous! If you were here, I’d make you one. Or three!

The comfort found in the noises of daily living from those around me to the left, the right, below -each in their own little homey compartments- their daily sounds of thumping and bumps and opening and closing of doors, the muffled laughter and the “hi”s and “good-bye”s of visitors calling out their “see you soon”s and “miss you already”s. I feel a part of a whole without even knowing them, and it feels good.

Dolores O’Riordan, from The Cranberries! Bean called to tease me a bit, casually mentioning that there was a CD out that she just knew I’d be nuts over acquiring, and that surely I had yet to hear of it because she hadn’t received an urgent call on my part. She asked if “Ordinary Day” meant anything to me. How about “Are You Listening?” Later, she presented me with the new album, O’Riordan’s solo work. Yay! I liken her voice to riding a wave, a current that has strength and power in delivery tempered with a vulnerability in just the right moments to make her songs more poignant and resonating.

Flipping the calendar to a new month and liking the new month’s image better than the prior month’s image.

Attended the theatre a few weeks back for my dad’s birthday, and as always, I sat in awe of the masses of people filling every available seat. Time and again, the actors pour out their best, breathing life into words and actions in the telling of a story, and they’re met with the audience eager to give their appreciation resulting in the rising from seats and thunderous continued applause. It never fails to move me to tears.

Le parkour, coolest sport EVER! If you’ve seen the latest Bond flick, Casino Royale, then you’ve had a taste of it. All that incredible leaping, jumping, springing, bouncing, tumbling, rolling, landing-on-your-feet, never stop efficiency. What must takes masses of training appears so effortless. I wonder what beginning lessons entail …

They reminded me very much of two old cantankerous men standing about sharing their view of the world

We have birds. Or rather, the neighborhood has birds. These aren’t your average, everyday, run-of-the-mill birds either. We knew something was up last year when Bean’s Matt was out on the balcony for a smoke and he asked if I had a pair of binoculars. A duck, a white-feathered, yellow-beaked duck was waddling its way down the middle of the road. As an oncoming car approached, the duck made its way to the side only to return to the center once the vehicle passed by. It reached a thick grassy stretch, an area nestled between our apartments and the neighborhood of houses down the way and abruptly turned and waddled into the brush and out of sight. A trip by the area later revealed a small hidden pond containing nothing less than a small fleet of feathered fowl. All kinds! Soon after, we began to hear random cock-a-doodle-dooing. If you’re up early enough, say 6:30am-ish, you will find a rooster making its way up and down the sidewalks pausing to stand at the street corners as though he knows that’s what one does when crossing. Several weeks back, he stood in the company of a duck, this time a Mallard. They reminded me very much of two old cantankerous men standing about sharing their view of the world amongst themselves with duck cluckings and rooster crowings. For months that rooster has been one very confused fellow! He’s neglected to adhere to his assigned job description of providing a timely warning to wake come dawn. Instead he is to be heard clearly and LOUDLY from the hours of 3:30am on into late afternoon at regular intervals. Frankly, I’m amazed that no one has made a meal out of him, as he must be even louder to those who live nearer the pond.

The unshakable feeling that someone is thinking of you at the very moment you’re thinking of them.

A Tim Burton bug. Content to remain in shadow under the porch step of my dad’s home. For several years now, come summer this bug, or its offspring maybe, appears. It’s the most amazing in-person beetle-esque bug I’ve ever seen! The size of a Ritz cracker (BIG!), its shell is covered in thin, stark lines distinctly black and white reminding me very much of the lines often found in Burton’s work. The critter’s antennas and legs are deep red. A metallic red as found on a Japanese beetle. I had no idea such an exotic thing was to be found here in Washington, residential Washington. I’m quite fascinated by it! And now frightened, too. I must have knelt a bit close last year because the next thing I knew it clicked, it hissed (word of the day. SEE: churros) and spread its shell to reveal wings, as it all-at-once fluttered up at me. Huge freak out on my part as I ran indoors in my own flutter of sorts. I guess the little thing told me!

And with that, may you recognize and delight in your very own set of petty indulgences. And, may you share them! ♦

A Taste of Satisfaction

Guess what my Dad saw yesterday on the way home?

No, guess again. :)

Okay, so he’s driving up the rather steep hill towards his house when he sees a tow truck heading down the hill towing ——- tada! Much broohaha and fanfare to be had here ——– a BLUE EL CAMINO with a YELLOW FLAME paint job!!! If this has no meaning to you, please read the prior post and then you, too, may marvel at the utterly divine providence of his encounter with said vehicle in tow.

Meanwhile a woman sporting a mound of dreadlocks

He promptly turned around and proceeded to follow the tow truck for miles on down the road until he found himself pulling into a small apartment complex. He exited the vehicle with pen and paper in hand to record the license number of the El Camino. The truck driver walked back to ask if he needed help with anything to which my Dad replied, “Nope, just taking down the license number of the car that hit and ran my daughter last week.” Meanwhile a woman sporting a mound of dreadlocks (familiar, anyone?) had meandered up to the car, cell phone firmly adhered to her head. She asked, “What?” apparently having caught only the tail end of my Dad’s retort. He gladly repeated, “You hit my daughter last week and I’m here to take down your license number for the police.”

He turned and got back in his car, not awaiting a response, and left the woman standing there not fully comprehending the situation just yet. He said the wait at the light just down the hill from her place was the longest red light in the history of mankind. He was itching to leave the area pronto, as it was one of the seedier parts in town and besides, he didn’t want her following him, possibly in some other vehicle.

I’m thrilled that that woman’s come-uppance came full circle so quickly and was delivered so personally, no less. In a comparison of license numbers it turns out Bean was off by one digit, she recorded an “8” at the end instead of a “B”. I feel empowered knowing where to locate that woman – hooray for a taste of satisfaction!

Not the most comforting form of communication, I gotta tell you.

I answer the phone to hear Bean’s tearful voice on the line. Hackles go up, intense need to protect kicks in and the willingness to go above and beyond awakes as I await her words. She tells me that her passenger side car window has been smashed in, glass bits are strewn everywhere. Nothing stolen, though. She had gone to workout this morning and the car was fine, only to head down to the car again for work, where she discovered the window. Or lack there of. There’s rarely a soul around here come daytime, so suspects were few. Her theory is that the maintenance man mowing the nearby lawn kicked up a rock and shattered the glass and was afraid to say anything for fear of losing his job. I’m skeptical, but wasn’t there to get a feel for the situation as she did. We entertained mild paranoia in reasoning that it may’ve been the El Camino woman, but the matter of how the heck she’d know where we live quickly squelched that idea. I stayed on the phone looking up auto glass replacement deals online while Bean awaited our Dad’s arrival, wanting help in vacuuming up the glass. We’re so lucky to have a nearby and willing-to-help Dad! The only problem is, I could hear him arrive in the background by his yelling. If we’ve been hurt in any way, shape or form, he shows his care by yelling. Not the most comforting form of communication, I gotta tell you. I used to say he was very much like the dad from the Wonder Years. He realizes that it hardly makes sense to be angry, but he pretty much has the attitude that that’s the way he is so learn to deal. A boo and a hiss! Life is all about improving on what could use improving.

Total personal aside here: They say that women tend to marry a man like their father and that terrifies me. I have yet to date someone who has yelled at me, and that’s no accident. Excessive grouching, the birthplace of yelling, is second only to cockiness on the short list of biggest turn offs. If anyone yelled it was me. Entirely counterproductive (read: no fun) and has since been tamed with much work.

You know this little tangent is all because I watched You’ve Got Mail. Again. All that “finding the one person who fills your heart with joy,” all the writing, the verbal combativeness and witty banter segueing into vulnerability and friendship. And books. New York. Enchantment. Le sigh.

Finding that one person is certainly not in the top priorities, but I imagine it will be one day, and it’d be nice to know now that there’s someone out there capable of the intellectual stimulation, coupled with the assertiveness not to allow me to bulldoze them, yet with the confidence and respect to allow me to share differing thoughts and opinions without blowing a gasket. Among other things. Tall order. Quantity: 1

The car window will be fixed tomorrow. The El Camino woman has a hitch in her giddy up, thanks to the Dad and the law. All is nearly right in car news and karma. Hoping to keep it that way! ♦