Dear Ear

(Please sing this in your head to the symphony that "If I had Words To Make A Day for You" -- sung by Farmer Hoggett in Babe -- is based off of.)

If I had words to make you hear for me
I'd string them into a strong melody
It would be soft and warm, encouraging
To not irritate, but be so soothing.

I'd sing you a song of hope for the best
Of longing for nights of undisturbed rest.
Of my dream that one day you'll clear for me
So I won't spend my life with ENT(s).

My song would show you I mean business
Your failure causes me nothing but stress
I know you really want to help me out
Please do so before I begin to shout.

Oh ear I love you, yes I really do
I'm just sick and tired of this--aren't you?
We'll both be better off without this yuck.
So to you and me I wish best of luck.

One day we will both be triumphant, ear!
Nights will be for sleeping, and I will hear
The whole of each word that is said to me
Repeats and ringing will not torture me.

Prezzies for Prez Day

My longtime bestie, EAS, came to visit for a long weekend. It seemed like the time flew by, and it wasn't really a long weekend at all. We did most of the fun stuff Portland has to offer in February AND managed to be super productive otherwise, as well.

I left work a bit early on Friday because I checked the weather and found that although it was great weather, the rest of the weekend was going to be abysmal, weather-wise, so we needed to go do the First Thing on the Portland Bucket List:

Pittock Mansion

There are so many windows in this place. <-- And the view! Oh, so amazing. This is the view of the mansion. -->
 The big bay window is the music room. Two of the ladies of the house studied music in PA. The original Steinway and a concert grand harp are in the room, along with some cool paintings. (None had cows, however, so obviously they weren't that cool.)



The old man definitely liked his bath time. His bathroom was huge! It had a tub and another smallish tub -- perhaps it was just for washing feet? Not sure... and it had a shower with at least five valves...one of which was a bidet, which shot up from the bottom, and one was a jetted stream.

--> It's all about perspective. Tasty snack! Loads of vitamins/minerals.

Then we went to get take-out from House of Teriyaki. We both got the spicy chicken because that's what Yelp! said was good. Em wanted to call in advance. I voted no. I have been having trouble with my ear (see Glue Ear post) and I didn't want to try to talk to someone whose native language wasn't English and try to order food. We should have called because it took seemingly forever, but we both have an aversion to calling people so we went and sat and waited. It was fine. :)

 We had a genius for waiting in the longest line possible several times throughout the weekend:

Line #1:  Marco's for brekke. (I liked it a lot better than Fat City.) Em got an avocado bacon scrambly thingie <-- while I got a burrito with spicy black bean chili in it <--. I have never had black bean chili for breakfast before. It was good!

Line #2: Voodoo, for donuts.  We approached the line, determined to come back later when it was shorter, and then it was even LONGER when we came back. We bit the bullet. Em read the paper (free) while I did the crossword puzzle. In the rain. We discussed the pros and cons of mandatory water fluoridation, how soon sex offenders should be able to get off the list, and determined that Voodoo should really have menus posted in the windows instead of just online. We're cool and serious like that.  I guess we were just keeping Portland weird...-->

Lan Su Chinese Gardens

Then we went to the Chinese gardens. --> I'd never been before. Yet another bucket cross-off! This is hard to describe...but the Chinese gardens are so...Chinese...and the Japanese gardens are so...Japanese. Although I have been to neither country, I could tell the difference in the feeling of the culture by how the plants were arranged, the buildings, etc. It was a really odd sensation. It was like because I know the Chinese and Japanese people I know, by visiting the gardens, I was able to make what felt like fairly accurate extrapolations.

We saw the yo-yo team do some cool tricks, and also saw a lion dance and got completely soaked. In between, I smelled some Drama Queens <--  (no, I'm not making it up...that's the actual name of the tree), and had our sign written in calligraphy by an old man.

(As a side note, it's amazing to me that although we are less than 24 hours apart in age, we are so very different. I jabber, she listens and nods sagely. I rush into things, and she is calm and steady as a rock. (With an occasional girly squeal. ;) ) So much for astrological signs!

Here I am standing in front of the waterfall with my sign <--. BTW I love the shirt I was wearing. Slate blue chamois. A true make-out shirt* if there ever was one.  Below is what looked like a blueberry tree. And also some sparkly red flowers. These, the Drama Queens, and the flowers just starting to bloom (next row) were almost the only blooming things in the entire garden.

 
<--This has a bunch of thorns on the ends. It honestly reminded me of the hedge Maleficent puts up with her creepy green staff (by the way, Sleeping Beauty is amazing), with the thorns and the variegated coloration. It reminded me of a muted version of what the hedge looked like when she started burning it down after she turned into a dragon. My, Prince Phillip sure is dashing, and Samson sure is smart! :)

Then we went to get dim sum. (Em had never had it!) Our hands were so cold we just held the tea cups and shivered for a bit. 

Sunday, we made chicken noodle soup with daikon and mushrooms and green beans and carrots and celery and chicken, of course. We did the stock from scratch. It was yum. We also attempted to quilt.


Japanese Gardens 



Monday we went to the Japanese gardens (it was free. Whee! It was awesome, but in a way I wish we had gone on a different day because the gardens are so much more peaceful when you're with fewer people.)  Not much was in bloom, but the sheer variations of the color green within the garden was absolutely mind-boggling. 

OMSI:
Where we held on for our lives (or at least, simulated doing so with varied effects -- I only made it three seconds), saw a duct tape canoe, built mini houses to withstand fake tornadoes, and determined that it doesn't matter if you run or walk in the rain. Oh. And we tried our hand at the old whisking away the tablecloth and without disturbing the dishes trick. We did pretty awesome at that one! I had my doubts that I could do it, but on my first try only one little flower vase knocked over. Go Me!

And we went to see what I call the Baby exhibit. I think that everybody who is considering having a baby should go through the exhibit and look carefully at the fetuses there. It gave me goosebumps. It's so much work to grow a baby inside of you! Babies are so complex. When they're halfway to being born they already have most of what they need in order to be a success. The fine downy hair on their heads, the expressions on their faces...each baby is a miracle and undertaking such an endeavour should not be done lightly!

Then I drove Em to the airport. It had been clear all day, but as soon as I dropped her off the rain started to fall. It seemed fitting that the sky was crying in withdrawal as she went away. It was such a great visit -- I'm so glad she came. 

Glue Ear

I've got glue in my ear
I've got glue in my ear
I've got so much in there
I no longer can hear

My story begins two whole Fridays ago
I started to feel in my ear a slight woe
I thought I was fine, so I drove to Sea-town
I had a good time, but my pain slowed me down.

By the time I got home to rest my wee head
My ear felt so full that I was filled with dread.
I woke up on Monday; thought I would be fine
But something was wrong with that left ear of mine.

So I called up the doctor, and lickety-split
I got an appointment and went through with it.
The doctor was nice and on time, and explained
An outer ear yuck-fest was to be contained.

He took out the goop and the wax and the stuff
That was blocking my hearing like an ear muff
The pain in my ear seemed to go right away.
My hearing was tested (above average -- hurray!)

Fred Meyer never seemed quite so far away
As it did when I got my RX--same day!
I insisted on ear-drops -- yes, no pills for me
The kind without steroids cost $73.

The doctor said I was okay to fly
So I went to Seattle - Portland, goodbye!
My flights went by smoothly, no pain in the ear
So I thought I was fine and had nothing to fear

But here, one week later, I sit and I type
Because I can't hear, and I'm starting to gripe
It seems my yuck-fest has migrated freely
And middle-ear problems are more of a "dealy."

I feel at a loss - not quite sure what to do.
Take one decongestant? Perhaps even two?
If I do, it seems that much better I'll fare
But I probably should seek additional care.

I've got glue in my ear
I've got glue in my ear
I've got so much in there
I no longer can hear.

Cats

Last night, as J and I were listening to Cats as we worked on our projects (it literally was a working weekend, as you will see in a later post), I was wondering what so enthralled me by the soundtrack when I was a small child. Because I was enthralled, and I've heard it probably about 50 times. The whole sountrack.

(By the way "Magical Mister Mistoffelees" was then my favorite. Mostly because our neighbor had the same issue: They thought their cat was Mr. Whiskers, when in fact she was Mrs. Whiskers, and they ended up with kittens.)

"Jellicle songs for Jellicle cats" echoed through the house as we cut and ironed.

Over and over again, the line repeated, as if it were on "endless loop" setting. I wondered if there was a Jellicle song mentioned in the chorus for each Jellicle cat. Then I started trying to count how many cats that would be...and decided that it would have to be more cats than even a cat lady could handle.

Never having seen the production, and having not thought about the musical in years, I peppered J with questions about the history of the musical:

Me: When was this written?
J. I dunno. Are you thinking that piano sounds awfully synthesized?"
Me: Yep.
J: Funny, I was just thinking that, too.

Me: Is there a man who is a cat herder and who introduces all the cats one by one as they come on stage?
J: I think there's a narrator cat.

Me: Are there speaking parts in between all the songs?
J: I don't know.

Me: What would it be like to dress up as a cat in full makeup and dance about in song? I'm so glad I'm not on Broadway.

After one particularly odd song/poem:

Me: I think whoever wrote this was inebriated. Or was on some sort of illegal drug-induced haze. Either that, or they had small children.

J: /surprised, laughing/ What?

Me: Why else would you (a) write so many poems about fantastical cats [you can tell I'm not much of a feline-lover] and (b) why would you set them to sometimes creepy music? How could you possibly conceive of the notion that combining a bunch of poems about the cats, and write hissing, scratching, stalking music and have adults dress up as felines and prance about is a good idea?

And, as an afterthought, why would it be a best-selling show?!?

Guess I'm going to have to go see it to find out.

Chicken Hickeys

On Thursday, I did the Thing You Should Never Do: I went to the grocery store hungry.

As a direct result of this mistake, I bought not one, but two rotisserie chickens for my dinner. Two. Whole. Chickens. Buh-GAWK!?! (insert bug-eyed chicken here)

I can barely eat a quarter of a chicken in one meal, much less two whole ones!! (In my defense, I was competing in Iron Chef and was planning on making a chicken soup...but still...that's a lot of chicken.)

I was texting a friend to tell him about it, bemoaning my mental insistence that two chickens in the hand is better than one in the proverbial bush, and I typed, "I bought two chickens for my dinner tonight."

At least, that's what I thought I was typing. Auto-correct jumped in, and for some reason inserted "hickeys" where "chicken" should have been.

Awkward.

So it read: "I got two hickeys for my dinner tonight."

Oops.

But because I'm resourceful, I managed to not dwell on the possible embarrassment; instead, I made a joke about how I was going to have chicken hickeys, and it's kind of become a thing. Kind of like "just fine" when someone asks you, "How do you feel about that?" (It's an inside family joke...sorry for those of you who aren't familiar.) So instead of "Beef: it's what's for dinner" it's now, "Are you having chicken hickeys?"

So: Here is the recipe for chicken hickeys:

3 oz Tribe hummus (classic) or make-your-own
1 handful Stacy's multi-grain pita chips
1 handful of spinach
1/2 yellow or orange bell pepper
1/3 cucumber, sliced/diced in quarters
3 oz chicken bits

Prep time: 2 minutes
Bake time: 0 minutes

Take a pita chip and thinly coat it with hummus. Put 2 or 3 leaves of spinach on the hummus to make sure the spinach sticks. Put chicken bits on the spinach. Put a quarter of the cucumber on top of the spinach. Put a thin slice of bell pepper on top of that. Then pop the whole thing in your mouth. It's a beautifully addicting flavor burst.

I have a feeling if they made pita chips in the same shape as those Tostitos Scoopers that these would become a regular thing at cocktail parties. In fact, I have a dream that one day, Chicken Hickeys will make it in print somewhere as a bona fide menu item. They're that good.

Holly Days

 First there was drama.

Then there was Thanksgiving: (J&J&J&D)
Which, by the way, would not have been complete without the Olympia contingent - we had a very tasty turkey, courtesy of J&J, and yummy pie and beets and pickles, thanks to J&D. Wow. Yummy! It was fun - we got so wrapped up in playing Pandemic that we forgot to make mashed potatoes. And gravy. And a lot of other things. It was a great time.

Then there were the obligatory holiday parties to go to. I only took "pre" pictures of one of them though:

Then I flew to LA to meet the board and eat dinner at Morton's. For reasons which I won't get into, I had to use my free night at the Omni the night prior to the board dinner. I had never stayed at the Omni in LA before, though I had stayed several times at the Omni in San Francisco and it is a gem.

Not only did I get a free night, but I got upgraded to a suite. ^.^ Lucky girl, yes! There were TWO bathrooms, etc. I took a ridiculous amount of pictures but will just share the ones that emphasize the awesomeness that was my suite. Too bad I was there for all of ten hours. :(

This is the view from my window. LA at Christmas -- no snow, but they do like their tinsel and twinkle lights.

The next day was the board meeting at Morton's. It was work stuff so I will mostly leave it at work except to say that we played Pink Elephant (which is basically a bunch of boxes that all look alike and you pick one and use the same rules as for White Elephant only they all look the same...but at the end there were gift cards inside, each for a varying amount. I was pleased that I got one of two $50 denominations. I considered it a "win." What was not a win was that night, when I stayed at the Jonathan Club. I walked in my room and immediately thought of the accommodations at Alcatraz. (The JC really is not like Alcatraz, but in comparison to the Omni, it really did seem like it. The bed had a headboard and creaked horridly, the walls weren't very soundproof, the tile in the bathroom looked it was from the 1950s, and I woke up hurting all over the next morning from the quality of the bed. Next time, I'm staying somewhere else. I don't care if it is only two blocks from work. However! They did have a really cool electric train setup, as well as a ginormous Christmas tree.

Then I flew to Austin. I convinced my sister to let me do her makeup. :) Her husband of course says she looks much better without it. And she of course is gorgeous. But I was very proud of myself, because I did a very good job blending.

She worked in the kitchen all day on Christmas Eve to make a very special dinner: roast goose. It was the first time I had ever had the pleasure of tasting goose. She made tiramisu as well, and I helped by making rolls and mashed potatoes. It was, as I would say, delicious.

Here we are, opening presents. :) Look at cute little IGPM's face...he loved his Bumblebee transofrmer I got him so much. And K loved the Pollypocket I got her, too. And...I did not get Wolf Hall for M.

I have already chronicled some of our verbal escapades on Facebook. (more's the pity.) But I'll re-chronicle here:

Christmas morning breakfast conversation:
Me: (eats French toast, thinking about stocking stuffings)
K: (out of of the blue) Not very many people in TX voted for Obama. But lots of people in IL voted for Obama.
IGPM: HUNDREDS of people in CA voted for Obama.
K: Not HUNDREDS. Only 55. A half dollar plus a nickel.
Me: tries really hard not to laugh

(At least she knows how many electoral votes CA has!)

Christmas afternoon:
IGPM: let's have a marshmallow gun war so I can hit you in the bum.
Me: well, that doesn't sound like a very good incentive, does it? I don't want to be hit in the bum.
W (I's mom): if you hit her in the bum, she might hit you back.
IGPM: (very nonchalantly): Ooooh. That would be exciting.

...later...

K: I don't want to eat these beans.
W: you've been eating these beans your whole life. Eat up! Besides, if you eat them your tummy will be happy because you will be giving it protein.
IGPM (under his breath): I seriously doubt it.
K: HEY, I! You quoted Mom!! That's mom's line!
W: (surprised) you're right. He did quote my line!

Highlights of the trip include a pre-stocking-opening snuggle with K & IGPM; marshmallow gun wars, the salted caramel shake at the "Elf" quote-along we went to at the Draft House, lots and lots of yummy food, and time with both K & IGPM. I spent lots of time in the kitchen with W and A, too. We had fun doing Advent and singing songs and hunting for treats, and I definitely got my trash kicked at MarioKart Wii, but I did improve a bit by the time my visit was over.

K took several movies of me. IGPM drew a Christmas tree with me. He thoughtfully looked at my tree and said, "Auntie, do people ever make fun of your drawings?"

"Yes, they do," I said. I could tell he was sincere, and that he was really just curious. Maybe I gave off an insecure vibe or something...I don't know. But ever since my little sister accused me of trying to make "everything ugly on purpose" I have had a bit of an issue with my drawing skills -- or lack thereof. Besides, this Christmas tree actually looked pretty good.

He put his little hand on my arm and looked at me in the eyes and said, sweetly, "I would never do that."

I hugged him and peeled him a clemmie. I have such a nice family. :) :)

MLK - SFO

For MLK, I treated myself to a trip to SF to meet my new niece. I saw her in her "witching hour" as her mama calls it -- that aching time for infants when they transition from daytime sleep to nighttime sleep (I kind of thought that there was no such thing as nighttime sleep after the weekend was over...but I did not mind at all, as NMK-foos is so cute.) Then I went to bed and, unlike her parents, was mostly undisturbed until the next morning. (I did offer to take a shift, as Any Reasonable Auntie would do, but my offer was declined.)

I got to hold her for the first time on Saturday morning. I ate most of T's home-made yogurt (a neighbor had made it for her...and normally I would have been sensitive to a mother of a newborn and let her have all of such a lovely treat, but as NMK is sensitive to dairy, I got the benefit of being first on the scene and so devoured it.)

Then I went to lunch with my friend D. He provided me with A Culinary Experience - I had never before had oyster, or lobster. Here is the "before" (what you can't see are the short ribs and the popcorn leg popper things that we also ate.) It doth look lovely, no? There was shrimp, and sashimi (tuna and salmon [I let him eat all the salmon; as, dear readers, you know how I feel about it]), and crab legs, and oysters, and half a lobster, and five sauces. L-R: oyster, creamy, cocktail, sweet and sour, soy.

An hour later (I eat slow; D eats fast; together, we eat too much--hence the "it hurts so bad but it tasted so good" grimace on his face), this is what remained (see middle).

And above, left: Here are our plates, to show we didn't just throw it all on the floor:

And here's another pic of NMK to round things out:

All in all, it was a very satisfactory visit. NMK seems to enjoy Fleetwood Mac a lot and seems equally comfortable in pink and in frogs. (This seems like a very important life skill that her Auntie M has yet to master. And no, I am not being facetious!)

I consider it a miracle that my arms didn't give out. I was worried that she might be so heavy that I wouldn't be able to hold her for long stretches. She is a little girl yet, though, so I was able to hold her and sing to her and smile at her and my arms held up like champions. Now all I have to do is keep my bicep strength up with her growth...

Backronyms and Dysphemisms

My brother's wife just had a beautiful baby. Their first. (I know she's beautiful because I was a Lucky Auntie and got to go visit her last weekend...)

They are both crazy in love with their baby. (As is fitting, right, correct, and expected.)

As you know, nicknames run rampant in our family. My brother decided to add the diminunitive "foos" to his baby's name. "Beautiful M-foos," he'd say, while raptly looking at her little Yoda face scrunch and squirm and "o" beautifully in her sleep. "Pretty M-foos," he'd say as he held her in his arms. "Mad M-foos," he'd say when he was changing her diaper and she was screaming.

I was helping put together the baby stroller when it occurred to me that maybe "foos" was an acronym. This occurred to me because J and I have a mutual friend who is always trying to come up with the very best acronym for a particular nonsense: fufb. "found under fried bread", for example.

"Foos...foos..." my brain niggled at it for a minute. What could it stand for?

Aha! I triumphantly looked at N and proclaimed: "First of our...spawn!"

It seemed he was taken aback a bit. His beautiful M-foos, reduced to...spawn?!?!??!?!

Then he told me about backronyms. I figured this in concept, of course, but didn't know there was an actual name for it. (Linguists, feel free to cringe here. I know I did.)

Backronym AND dysphemism, all in one: FTW!

Closer I Am To Fine

this is me
feeling like my heart's in a blender
watching the sun set on a midwinter day
attempting to fit life's pieces in a puzzle box.

I'll get there, one day. Closer to fine. I just have a lot of things to figure out between now and then. Every decision I make today impacts decisions down the line. Many little decisions add up to big decisions over a few years. I want this year's decisions be decisive. I want to act, not dither. I want to be bold and ask for what I want. I'm going to act to deserve what I ask for. And when I get it, I'm going to accept it and be grateful. And that will bring me...closer to fine.

First Time Non-Traditional Christmas Carols

Here is my recollection of the first time I heard three non-carol, non-traditional Christmas songs. Funny how some songs, you just remember the first time, always. Kind of like some people--you remember exactly how you met them. Others seem to just kind of appear out of nowhere into the fabric of your life.
 

5. "Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth" by David Bowie & Bing Crosby. I first heard this just last year. I laughed, and laughed, and laughed. N showed it to me. Seriously?!? David Bowie singing a Christmas song? With a straight face, and maybe with a little meaning, due to his son.
 
4."Christmas Shoes" by...I don't know. I always think of this as the "Oh no! Not the shoe song again!" song. I first heard it in 2002, when I was living with Jennster. The first time you hear it, it kind of tugs on your heartstrings a little, but every time thereafter it seems like a Kenny G/Kenny Loggins mishmash of ultimate cheese that turns out a little more moldy/smelly than you wanted it to be. I think the message is good, but one where a little goes a long way.

3. "Last Christmas" by Wham!, I was sixteen. I was in my room, laying on my bed, thinking teenage thoughts. I remember when I heard it the first time, I thought the song was sooooo hilarious. It was an awesome combination of petulant, feeling-sorry-for-myself, and hopeful-just the right mix to perfectly appeal to a teenager. Now the song just makes me a little sad.

 2. Betelehemu - BYU Men's Chorus. I don't remember when this began to be a staple in the house, but I remember the first time I really paid attention to it. I was about fifteen. I remember thinking that the soloist had the second most beautiful high man's voice I'd ever heard (the first belonging to the person who sings the solo in "Lechaim" in the soundtrack of Fiddler on the Roof). Now the most beautiful high voice belonging to a man is a tossup between a Korean guy and a Japanese guy. Ask me if you want details. Every year I drag this one out for about a week and listen to it nonstop. It's really different to listen to different versions of it, too...but this is the one I heard first, and I love it best.

1. "All I Want For Christmas" by Mariah Carey.  I was trying on jeans at the brand new Gap in the Riverwoods mall. I think I was about...hmmm...fourteen or fifteen at the time. At the time I remember being slightly perplexed at the number on the inside tag of my jeans. (I was even more perplexed when, ten years later, I tried on jeans at a different Gap...I was the same size, and the size on the jeans was half the number it was back then!) After that, I heard it everywhere. Everywhere. At the time I didn't really get the song...I mean, I liked that it was bouncy and stuff, but the idea of wanting one person for Christmas when you could have, say, a cell phone, or a bass guitar, or any other thing a girl that age could possible dream of. Dreaming for boys for Christmas was just not on my radar back then.

streaks

On Wednesday night I put some bones in to make broth with. On Thursday night I made soup. I was chopping up some onion and after only two cuts my eyes started watering. I didn't even dice the onions at all - just sliced them into huge chunks, and my eyes were streaming by the time I was through.

I'd forgotten that I'd put on mascara at work. I'm so used to not wearing makeup that this business of wearing it has led to a few embarrassing situations - in my book, far more embarrassing than not wearing it.

Anyway, I was feeling kind of sad anyway, so it seemed perfect that I should have the excuse of the onion to cry.

TANGENT: Two weeks ago I cut onion on purpose so I could have an excuse to cry. I guess if you see me in the store toting a bag of onions, it's a pretty safe bet I'm going to be an epic mess of misery in the very near future and I might need you to grab me and give me some sound advice and make me put the onions down.

I went to the store, intent on zooming in and out. (I'd used all the onion, but I guess the good news is that I didn't have "onion" on my list - though in retrospect, I probably should have put it there...) Normally I don't even pay attention to anything except the produce when I'm in the store and I don't expect people to pay attention to me either, but this time, I'd been in the store for all of two minutes before I started getting looks. I was in "groc mode" and didn't want to bother to interpret, but after a few more minutes of more looks I put my hand on my face and realized that there was a trail of grime on my cheek.

Great. I had no idea how I looked - no clue if there were two blackish brown streaks down my cheeks or if all I could feel was residue and I was really fine. I swiped at my face, and sure enough, little bits of black came off on my fingertips. I cleaned up as best I could, forgetting (of course) that there actually was a compact in my purse...and after that I looked down at myself. I suddenly had this nightmare that I'd left the house undressed. Or at least, seriously underdressed. I guess that's the good thing about winter in the NW - you don't have to worry if you put on clothes or not, because it's so cold you'd immediately notice if it weren't the case. But I panic easily sometimes when I'm already in a self-conscious situation, which of course makes the situation even worse.

In one of my all-time favorite anime series, the girl's mentor (because of course her mother passed away when she was very young, as happens to almost all anime characters) was teaching her about applying makeup. She said makeup is like armor - if you're wearing it, you can't cry or the mask will be cracked and they (the enemy) will know that you are weak. Seems like an anti-protection, like...why put something on your face if it's a giveaway that something is wrong and you can't control it?

Beware of makeup. Beware of makeup streaking. Beware of venturing out into the world with makeup streaks you didn't know you had. Beware of strong onions.

sad rain

the rain's comin' down
all around this place
it's so cold and wet
on my tired, worn face

and i'm wondering
if it's all worthwhile
if i'll ever find
comfort in my style

and my eyes are closed
and i hear the drum
of the drops all round
steady as they come

i breathe in the damp
there's no lightning flash
as the world moves on
cars make puddles splash

and i wonder if
it'll ever stop
will it cover me
little drop by drop

will my tears blend in
'til I wash away
does the sun exist?
no, dear - not today.

Southern Utah

There are a few things about Southern Utah you might not know. Chances are if you are reading this blog you know them, but I'll share anyway.

1.There's a mini monsoon season every year; usually it's a week and a half the back half of August, but this year some of it came a little early. It rains some places, hard, and not in other places. (See left.)

2. There are lots of sheep here. I was surprised how big they were. Look at the size of that thing's head! I was surprised to glance out the window and bam: SHEEP FACE, right in my face. (Okay, a few feet of air and some glass and some metal separated us, but I think that is the closest I had ever been to that many sheep.) Except maybe last year at the Puyallup fair, but most of those were lambs. By the way, people who take care of sheep dominate Southern Utah. Sheep peeps rock. (I come from a long line of sheep peeps.On both sides. And yet I don't like mutton...)

3. If you drive down the road, the scenery changes. If you start near Salt Lake, and go south for a couple hours, you see what's left. And then if you drive for another little while ("How long is a little whiiiiiile?") you see something like what's  right.

4. And then the scenery really changes a couple hours after that - from regular colored mountains to red plateaus and piles of rock. Southern Utah is like a geological paradise. Maybe that's why my grandpa, who grew up in the area, decided to pursue geology as a course of study and then, later, his career.

5. And this is a beautiful, typical Southern Utah in August cloud. Look at the height,  the variation of color...it's "It Looked Like Spilt Milk" at its finest. It was a lot more impressive in person, I assure you - but I couldn't resist sharing it just to preserve the memory.