Dallas Blooms

You may have heard me whine that my green thumb has all but disappeared now that we are residents of the Lone Star State. In the past I was able to plant and ignore. Over water, under water --- what the heck? Fertilize, enrich, re pot --- whatcha talkin' about? My children once told me that they were glad when I went back to work because then I had less time to focus on them and their behavior. Oh, what kidders! Of course, I do seem to spend much more time tending the flora that briefly take root in our condo; but the damn ungrateful cultivars sulk and rebel like unruly teenagers, forcing me to eventually unfriend them. So much for bloom where you are planted. And, no, that's not my garden. I live in a condo so I don't have to "garden."

Plus One

Good God! Is it 2012 already?!?

February is the shortest month of the year, but we manage to fill its days with all kinds of celebrations, and no, those days do not fly by if you live in one of the colder climes. I do not so that is plus one for me.

You know that TV commercial that asks us, what would you do if you had one extra day? Well, this is it, people, and I bet you are frittering it away. Not me! I got up early and prepped citrus chicken for tonight. I know. Call me crazy, but it's just one day. Then, I swung by the mall to return items. Yeah, yeah, but with the cost of gasoline and food and medications, do I really need another pair of skinny jeans? On to the fun stuff ..... lunch on the porch at a neighborhood Italian restaurant, basking in the sunshine and ignoring the high pollen count. Afterwards, a lazy afternoon on my deck, watching the trees bud and blossom and listening to the birds tweet and chirp in their little Texas twangs.

Bottom line: sure, if I had planned ahead, I would have spent that extra day at the beach, y'all; but I tend to procrastinate (it's a talent) and if you think about it ........... every day is a plus one so use them wisely.

Cowboy Christmas

Christmas comes but once a year, and sometimes even that is a little too often. Don't get me wrong, y'all. I love Christmas - the lights, the bells, the mistletoe, the sleepy horses and buggies that clip-clop down our street on their way home after the party every night. It is a truly spectacular show - the sights, the sounds, the smells, the glitz, the glam ..... It's Broadway, Hollywood, and Las Vegas wrapped up in red ribbon and a bit of tinsel.

Yes, I want to buy a ticket; however, I do not want to write the script or direct the production. For me, every year, no matter what, my favorite thing is sitting in the dark, holding that cheap candle with the white paper collar, softly singing the familiar carols, and thinking peace on earth might just be possible, after all.

disclaimer: not my house, not my cows

Ghost Busters

Pretty much the story of my life, currently at least, is a day late. Another Halloween, come and gone, with nary a ghost nor goblin nor raven tapping at our door ..... or window pane, for that matter. The untouted joys of condo living in a childless neighborhood.....

The Long Hot Summer

Some-some-summertime. The plant outside our door pretty much sums up the season. Simmered -scorched-fried. Not to insinuate that we are frazzled or overheated. Everybody knows that the days are longer and hotter in Texas. We wouldn't have it any other way. But let's not be ridiculous, people. July: thirty out of thirty-one days with temperatures soaring over one hundred degrees. August: another thirty out of thirty-one. Do we really have to make this heat wave a pattern? At least, we have avoided earth quakes and hurricanes, for now. Like I said, "I love Dallas .... in the summer ..... when it sizzles."

A Dream in a Drawer

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore -
and then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over -
Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?
--- Langston Hughes

Y'all are looking at my art studio. Oh, well, of course, I do not climb into the drawer and set up my easel, but I might as well because the table I employ for my endeavors is a jack-of-all-trades piece that serves for dining, package wrapping and clutter gathering.

I have always dreamed of being an artist, not one who works for a living, but rather one who occupies a garret in Paris. Let's just skip over talent and instruction. Maybe I'll go the Grandma Moses route. The biggest obstacle in the path of my dream is .......... myself. Shockingly, I am lazy (so much trouble getting everything out of the drawer, setting up, cleaning up) and I procrastinate ( tomorrow, for sure, I am going to spend time with my paints unless something really important intrudes). So, Langston, I really wish I could tell you what happens to this dream deferred, but tomorrow begins a brand new month, August, in fact. What better time to start on that New Year's resolution?

Memorial Day

....and those caissons go rolling along ....

Who Do You Think I Think I Am?

Who are we IRL, as they say? A friend once told me that we are who others think we are. Maybe. But in this age of blogging, facebooking, and tweeting, we are able to create and manipulate our images so that it might be impossible for anyone to ever know who we really are. In other words, we are able to star in a drama (or comedy) where we are the protagonist, the screen writer, and the director. Let's face it (oh, yeah), we don't choose unflattering photos to post on our pages. On line we are able to interact with others in an environment of our own making, and the keyboard makes it easier to be witty, pretty, and wise. We share TMI, but only what pertains to our online persona. Maybe we are who our "friends" think we are.

Maybe not.

Hoops

We're talking hoops, people. And I don't mean earrings. I have ranted about this before, but here we are in Dallas (athletic center of the world. wha..? you don't think so?) on a Friday night with both the Mavs and the Rangers in town. Now, I don't like to be a spoil sport, but should basketball season really be intruding on baseball's turf? I think not. Let's all play outside in the sunshine. That being said ...... Go Mavs.

April Blooms

Summer comes early in Texas, stays late, and gets hotter than blazes so it's really a matter of the early bird spotting the blooms. And aren't all of us just lovely flowers; some, frilly and delicate like the lavender beauties, and others, colorful and sturdy similar to the potted zinnias.

One of my favorite sayings is bloom where you are planted, even if it's in Texas in the midst of tornadoes, wildfires, and high heat and humidity. So, I'm tellin' y'all ..... go ahead and ......... bloom, baby, bloom.

Life in the Fast Lane

I encountered Don Henley between the strawberries and the California blood oranges (organic) at Whole Foods today. I have been hoping to spot him ever since I read in D that he often saunters through the same market that I reluctantly frequent. I am guessing that he is not a vegan since he sped through the produce ...... maybe on his way to the grass-fed local Texas beef. He was all busy being fabulous and I was all business as usual.

I can't tell you why.

Aging Gracefully

I have posted pictures of this beach house before, both in its prime and its decline. It is, as my dad used to say, leaning toward Fisher's (I assume he meant Fisher's Funeral Home), but it cannot be torn down yet because of pending court cases etc.

Today is my birthday AND Easter. Only time Easter occurs on April 24 in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Recently an old friend and I were talking about birthday celebrations and the various joys of aging. She said that the last birthday she couldn't wait to reach was twenty-one, and we both agreed that there was no need for a lot of hoop-la after that so I feel that although the momentous occasion merits the party of the centuries, I much prefer a glass of Prosecco at Nosh, OK. Maybe two.

So ..... sadly the house is a reminder of ourselves ...... the beauty of youth, battered by storms, damaged by time. We may be unsteady, but we are still standing.

April Showers

I don't find much time to sit on a bench and wax poetic these days, but I can still quote lines that I perused during the last century. (I love doing that.)

April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead ground, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers.

The Wasteland - T.S. Eliot

April is a lovely month of flowers and showers, and who would not like to spend April in Paris? Alas, people, we are Apriling in Dallas, and I am watching tornado colors and hail reports on the television screen for the second time this week. Golf ball size hail and high winds .....lowest floor available....

We are really having fun now, and I thought the highlight of the day was mailing a check to the IRS. Just goes to show you never can tell. (Isn't that the title of a Chuck Berry song - last century?)

Keeping Track

Some of you have wondered where we've been, and the answer is: nowhere lately. Dallas is that kind of city. Once you're here, you can't imagine being anywhere else ...... so just like Rosie here, we don't stray.

In fact, one of us insists on sitting in the driver's seat sometimes.

Super Snow

Y'all know we live in Texas, right? And Texas is in the southern half of the United States, right? At least, on the map it is. Anyhow, we don't take kindly to sleet, snow, and ice. In fact, we can't cope with it ...... at all.

If y'all came down to see us for the Super Bowl, ya must have noticed that we panic when the temperature falls and precipitation arrives. What did you expect? We don't have snow plows. Good grief, we don't even have shovels. Our streets were impassible, our schools and businesses were closed, our power was rationed (rolling blackouts, anyone?), the post office did not deliver the mail, and is there no justice?..... the beer trucks were unable to get to the bars. You call this a Super Bowl? Has the Committee got no pull with the Weather Guy?

Sigh.

Lemonade

Sometimes ..... life is just a bowl of lemons .....

Mama Mia

January 29: my mother's birthday. Always a day for celebration.

All Steamed Up

My sinuses have run amok! The doctor pronounced allergies and recommended a neti pot and a vaporizer to accompany the antihistamines. Sounds simple, n'est-ce pas? Yeah, I know. You have to plug it in. And then, and then you have to fill it, empty it, clean it, sanitize it ....... and then, you discover it has spritzed "white dust" all over the room .... and then, you have to spend the whole day dusting and vacuuming and swishing off the ceiling fans and cleansing the window shutters and........

Oh, yeah. Thanks for asking. Not. One. Bit. Better.

One One One-One

Another year, another decade, another century ....... tempus fugit.

I was looking through the photo files, searching for an appropriate picture to illustrate the ringing in of the New Year when I stumbled upon ....... whoa .............what's this?! First thing, could we have ever been that young? Could anyone have been that young??? Second thing, the DH had lots of hair. Well, yeah, we both had lots of hair. Third thing, hasn't that look rolled back around? Think about it ...... the fake fur (aw, come on .... you knew it was fake), the cap, the tresses ..... everything old is new again..... And Joyce Carol Oates - isn't she still relevant?

But, let's return to thoughts of the New Year 2011. For most of us (if we're lucky), the holidays are times of celebrations, gifts, and feasts with friends and family. However, as the years go by, traditions evolve, things change, some of our loved ones are far away or no longer with us; and the holidays become tinged with nostalgia, as well as joy. We look back.

Fortunately, the festive progression, which begins with Thanksgiving, ends with the ringing in of the New Year. And we look forward.

May the sun shine on all of us.