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Oh, yes, I want to say…

July 11, 2012 in Being, Reading by Colleen | Permalink

So many things happening here – summer, glorious summer, has arrived, and I’ve been enjoying it ever so much, silliness and heat and bright light with sunglasses, sprinkled with every manner of ripe, delicious fruit. I devour cherries by the pound with nectarine and cantaloupe chasers, a steady drip of succulent juice on my chin. And the plums will be here soon! The feeling of warmth, too, without layer upon layer of clothing is blissful, and that heavenly blue of the sky is what keeps me going through the long wet of winter and spring.

We’ve been reading a lot, nearing the home stretch on the first book of The Game of Thrones. We sit in the living room, and I draw and paint while he reads, sometimes slowly sipping a little whiskey or port. He needs no other distraction, happy to close his eyes, a cat on his lap, while I take my turn at the page. It all feels so homey and old-timey and special. It’s too bad the book isn’t as pleasant as the ritual. Drat, my friends, I am not terribly keen on keeping up with this story. I’ve tried, but it just isn’t my cuppa – far too much detail for this reader, of every kind. And I can’t help but feel that every character is a bit of a caricature, too. Oh well. So this one is it for me, and the hubster will fill me in on the rest, or perhaps we’ll get the television series off Netflix. Perhaps.

This photo demonstrates how impossibly adorable and spoiled our cats can be. Milo, as of late, loves to cuddle while I write. At first, he’s like a sack of potatoes over my left shoulder, purring and nudging my cheek, with me doing my best to type with one hand. When I decide he is too heavy, he squeezes behind me. Then, like Napoleon across Europe, he conquers the seat, until there is scarcely room for my own bottom, and he has to be exiled to St. Helena (also known as the hallway).

Finally, don’t be surprised if you don’t hear much from me over the next few weeks. I’m going to be out enjoying the weather a bit more, finishing some projects, generally letting the little man take hold of the world, if he is so inclined.

Happy Summer!

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Squee!

April 23, 2012 in Celebrating, Reading by Colleen | Permalink

Happy Monday, one and all! We’re in Reed Canyon, enjoying one of Laura O. Foster’s Portland Hill Walks on the sunniest of Earth Days. Gosh it was lovely yesterday, eighty-two degrees, I think, and part of three days of warm temperatures in a row, with sun!

We walked to the walk, which was ever so fine. Short-sleeves and sunglasses and sunscreen required.

As per usual, we learned a lot, despite the location being a frequent destination for us, though we’d never actually ventured into the canyon before, usually taking the bridge over the water.

It was cool to see it from this perspective, to be, quite literally, in the thick of it. Our feet squished in a bottom land full of all manner of plants and flying creatures. There was a cacophony of birds and bees and who knows what else zooming to important destinations.

The air was rich with moss and oxygen, flowers and decay.

On our way home now. People decorate with everything in these parts.

And drive very personalized vehicles. Have I told you about the black van with the “Halen” license plate? Eighties music fans rejoice! Too bad I didn’t have my camera that day.

Upon our return home, the hubster was ever so tired and napped on the patio with Paris. Though he doesn’t really need to be tired for such activity. He is that kind of sleeper. Sometimes I envy him for it, but mostly I watch and smile and sometimes laugh.

This is from today – look at the sunshine streaming in the window! It was perfect for hanging out with one my littlest friends. We’re spending more time together while his Mommy takes care of her cancer. Today, he watched me hang clothes on the line, hunted cats and gnomes in the backyard, made full use of the laundry chute, threw paper airplanes, ate ravioli, and made a cake.

He was very pleased with the way it turned out. It is almost Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba!

My name is Colleen, and I like to dance…

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Jiving

March 9, 2012 in Listening, Reading, Shopping, Spotlighting, Watching by Colleen | Permalink

Some ever so random bits and bobs for you today. My mind is a wandering one. Its oft preferred state, which, after some overly obsessive and incredibly tiresome thinking suits me fine. Uh-huh.

First, a little more leg than I anticipated, but whatever. Call me a slut, but my neighbor beat you to the punch on whore. Because if a little leg, using birth control before having my internal lady parts removed (read about it here: 1, 2, 3, 4) , and enjoying sex with my husband make me one, I say, in for a penny, in for a pound. Anyhoo, the socks beg to be seen! They are from Gumball Poodle (oddly, I bought mine at New Seasons) and are perfect for roller skating, even when hidden under cropped pants, with many other neat-o options. Meat, anyone? Beer? Bacon?

Second, a little listening. Do you know about Poking Smot? I must say that I, in no way or shape, like this moniker. Really? That’s the best you got? Well, I shall forgive you because your website is so freakin’ awesome that it nearly makes my head spin. Music, so very much music: new, old, jazzy, synthy, rocky, poppy (currently jiving and toe tapping to Sandy Bull’s “Blend”). Merde et zut alors! This place could be the site of my downfall. I’ll just listen to one more song and be on my way, oh and another, but wait, they’ve got that? Down for the count peeps, d-o-w-n!

Third, a little reading. This is a shout out for local writer K.B. Dixon who sent me a copy of his book, The Photo Album. It is a very quirky, Colleen-style tale. A warm breeze of an afternoon read and well worth the time, it’s an imaginary photo album (hence the title) with captions. What was happening there? What was intended? What don’t we see? Filled with details of places I love and very much home. It made me think, laugh, and sigh with wonder.

Fourth, a little watching. And contrast. First, another one of my man-crushes, Zach Galifianiakis (I’m not kidding), in a supporting role (with Jason Schwartzman and Ted Danson – a fine trio if ever there was) in a truly awesome and also very Colleen-style comedy series, Bored to Death. I think I’ve mentioned this bit of kooky before, but dang, do I love it so. The hubster can’t get enough of it either, I might add. We laugh until we cry and always want more. Luckily we’ve got DVD number two waiting for us to-night. It’s on, bitches! (Just for you, Amber)

Now to the contrast, The Yellow Handkerchief. It follows Brett (William Hurt) after his release from prison, searching for a new hold on life and remembering May (Maria Bellow), the love he left behind. Then there is Martine (Kristen Stewart) and Gordy (handsome Eddie Redmayne), young and inexperienced, escaping home, awkward and yearning for a connection, to no longer be outsiders and first forgotten. They travel in Gordy’s car, through the post Katrina aftermath, taking ill used highways and discovering unexpected places, especially within themselves. Sweet and sad and happy.

Fifth, a little love, for you, sweet readers, and Friday. Have a tip-top, hat’s-off, groove-on weekend!

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Lessons in Taxidermy

September 14, 2011 in Reading, Remembering, Spotlighting by Colleen | 1 comment

Dazzling and terrifying.  These are the words that echo over and over again in response to both the text and its author, Bee Lavender.  Goll-ee.  I remember seeing this book somewhere, maybe at Powell’s after it first came out in 2005, and being really intrigued by the cover, especially that shade of blue ink.  It reminds me of the mimeographs of elementary school and our secretary, I’m pretty sure she was called Mrs. Price (tall {or maybe just to a child under age eleven}, thin, and perfectly coiffed every day of my entire Thomson Elementary career, a variation on what Jackie O. would have looked like if she took the job), turning the crank on that blue barrel shaped machine, and making the most positively pleasant sound.  Then there was the paper immediately after, cool, slightly damp and smelling, in the most heavenly way, of whatever chemical rendered it all possible.  I’m sure it was all quite toxic and part of the reason I am the nutter butter I am today.  That said, I still loved it.

And this gem of a book, to which I am returning.  I didn’t read it then and specifically remember not wanting to.  Knee deep in the throes of endometriosis (my condition is not even a word in my lousy dictionary/spell checker {I did NOT mean endomorphism!} – that so many women suffer from such a horrible disease and it doesn’t even register as a “real” word is beyond annoying), the thought of taking on someone else’s physical pain, even via a book, was out of the question.

Were it not for Facebook, I probably wouldn’t have given it another thought.  Then Byron, a friend from my elementary school days (I’ll bet he remembers Mrs. Price, too), found me and, as I discovered from a link posted on his wall, just so happens to be married to the author.  So there you go, a message from the universe that I might enjoy what his wife has to say.

Boy, did I ever.  Bee Lavender writes about life, growing up in the outskirts of society in a place at once tender and violent, and her body being riddled by cancer after cancer, illness after illness, tragedy after tragedy, from the ripe age of twelve.

Her life is a steady succession of shocks, and though there is ample reason to feel pity for her, a teen mother, a body that will never be cancer-free, more surgeries and procedures than I can even fathom, it is certainly not her aim.  Quite to the contrary, she is the type of woman who has taken her lot, for better or worse, and seen it as greater than the sum of its parts, far, far greater.  She understands the repetition of life, the ceaseless cycles, and is ever more keenly aware of death and our proximity to it, at any given moment.

Yet, she’s hardly been afraid to live or exert her power.  She travels, dances, and drives the countryside.  She is fun and funny.  She cannot be contained.  She speaks her mind.  She shares wholeheartedly.  Dazzling and terrifying and absolutely worth reading.  In a single sitting– I nearly forgot to mention that.  I couldn’t put it down.

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Big and Small

June 21, 2011 in Being, Reading, Thinking by Colleen | 3 comments

Hi everyone -

A few happy items to start: it is the summer solstice!  The peonies are still blooming!  It is actually warm outside!  Happy, happy, happy Tuesday.

So this morning I was outside reading, as per my routine, and Pema (gosh, I know, I’m writing {and talking} about her a lot, but that’s just where I am right now, so feel free to come back later) was talking about this experience she had where a group of people vacillated between treating her as no big deal and a very big deal.  It became painful for her because just as she was settled into a groove of feeling one way or the other, it would change.  Finally, she spoke her frustrations aloud and was told, “You have to learn to be big and small at the same time.”  I kind of took it in and thought, “Oh that’s very wise,” but didn’t really digest it. The birds were chirping and Milo was on my lap, and my attention wandered to the peonies, and what else I had yet to do, and the gorgeous quality of light.

Then I was raking up some debris out front and this Mortimer (Pema’s name for an “enemy”) that’s acted pretty hateful toward me for some time came along and said, “Good morning Colleen!”  It was in a nice voice, too, not at all like the Jerry and Newman exchange, that I’m barely tolerating you mister, so keep your distance kind of tone.  I said hello back, a bit shocked and confused, and continued my raking.  Then Mortimer started talking again, complimenting my yard and garden and expressing distaste at the fact that it is supposed to be eighty degrees today.  We chatted, very friendly, before parting with a good day salutation and me feeling a little weak in the knees at the conversation.  What just happened?  I thought Mortimer hated me!

Suddenly my mind went back to my reading.  I knew exactly what Pema was talking about.  Those times when Mortimer acts like a best pal.  Those times when a good friend is a total bitch.  Those times when someone who is normally chatty and boisterous crosses the street to avoid conversation.  Those crap-shoot moody people – nice one time, mean the next.

Holy smokes!  This is what it means to be big and small at the same time, to be open, to breathe in whatever is offered, and breathe it out just the same.  I can do this!  Well, at least today, at this moment, because that’s all I’ve got.

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Morning

June 1, 2011 in Practicing, Reading by Colleen | 1 comment

For a while now, I’ve been getting up early, without an alarm, between 5:30 and 6:00.  If it’s a weekday, sometimes it’s with the hubster.  On weekends, I smell his cheek (mmm…), give him a kiss, and rise on my own.  I get dressed, feed the cats and the birds, grab a bottle of kombucha (eight ounces a day, my elixir of life?), and a thoughtful book.  Lately it’s been the Pema Chodron, Start Where You Are, I found at the library (I bought my own copy).  I sit on the bench on the back porch, wrapped up in a scarf and blanket and one cat or another on my lap.

First, I sip my kombucha slowly, listening and watching all that is happening.  At this hour, it is pretty quiet.  The birds chirp and eat (see the crow?), a few cars pass, but not too many.  Though I like being out when it is sunny, so I don’t feel so cold, the rain is nice, too.  It falls so sweetly onto the metal roof over my head.

Once I’ve finished the kombucha, I read, but just a little bit.  I don’t want to crowd my mind with too many ideas.  It’s a busy place already.  Then I sit and think about what I’ve read.  Today, it was, “Rest in the nature of alaya, the essence.”  Watch whatever comes up in the mind, the rising and falling of thoughts.  There’s no need to despair about the quality or content.  They’re just thoughts. “No big deal,” Pema says.

I like the freedom this gives me.  Permission.  I have very dark thoughts sometimes.  Heavy.  Unkind.  Cruel.  They’re no big deal when I give them the space to be thoughts.  They lose their potency and dissipate, though not always.  Some are more stubborn and sticky, preferring to linger longer, but I’m finding more lightness around them, too.  Maybe it’s just being outside in a place that I love, that I’ve worked hard to create.  I’ve chosen every piece of furniture, every ornament, every plant with care.  I’ve cleaned, weeded, cut, and fed everything here.  I feel safe, safe to let my thoughts rise and fall like the plants themselves: sprouts, leaves, flowers, and seed, before starting over again.

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Winter’s Bone

January 14, 2011 in Reading, Spotlighting by Colleen | 2 comments

I stayed up well past bed time finishing this book, it so engrossed me.  It’s the kind of story that takes the reader to the precipice and holds them in trepidation, page after page, at what ghastly occurrence is surely just beyond.

The story is set in the Ozarks, a hardscrabble land of immense beauty and sheer violence, the people living very near the precipice themselves, getting by in ways lawful and otherwise, mostly the latter.  It’s a place where blood and names matter, determining histories and futures, yet aren’t nearly enough when times get desperate.  The main character is Ree, a tough as nails seventeen year old who wears thin cotton skirts with combat boots in the dead of winter.  She’s a high school dropout, but not for wanting more for herself.  She aspires to a military life far, far from this existence, but, for now, this is where she finds herself, caring for her younger brothers and a mother lost to mental illness.  Her father, Jessup Dolly, possibly the best crank cooker in the vicinity has disappeared, left the family without anything, and worse.

Ree gets a visit from the local sheriff warning her that Jessup’s court date is one week hence, and if he doesn’t show, they will lose the house and land that have been in the family for generations.  Even more, she will lose any opportunity to flee this life, to make something for herself,  for how can her brothers and mother get on without her and a place to stay.  Despondent, she sets out to find him, walking through hill and dale to pay visits to some pretty scary characters, anyone who might lead her to him.  No one will talk, save to deliver dire warnings of impending doom if she doesn’t quit, though she never does, even when she reaches the end of her rope.

It’s a thrilling, page turning story that took me to the back of beyond and home again, though travel weary.  I highly recommend it.  It’s also, as they say, a “major motion picture.” Put it in the queue.

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Tradition

December 10, 2010 in Making, Reading, Remembering, Spotlighting by Colleen | 2 comments

It’s baking time Under a Red Roof: spritz cookies, pumpkin bars, mint sandwich cookies, sandies, and walnut fudge, yum, yum!  It’s a lot of work, but like the jazz on the hi-fi during it all, there is a certain pleasure and flow in the mixing, rolling, tasting (just a little), and packaging.  It is endlessly satisfying, especially when I think about someone I care about enjoying bite after bite.

It also reminds me of one of my favorite holiday pastimes, reading Truman Capote’s A Christmas Memory aloud with the hubster.  It is a magical time when I am transported, via the power of the word, to a place I have never been but know as intimately as my own home.  Buddy and his cousin are there, rolling the wicker buggy with Queenie trotting along side.  We dream, explore, hide our money in a coin purse under the floor boards, and make fruitcakes and high flying kites.  It is the purest form of love.

Just as much as I love the story, I love the act and rhythm of the reading.  The hubster and I sit on the sofa, impossibly close, and I begin, my voice as clear as the sky on that first morning, until it isn’t, and the tears come.  He smiles and wordlessly takes the book from me, taking up where I left off, continuing until the tickles in his throat signal it is my turn again, beginning the cycle over: clear words, tears, exchange, clear words, tears, exchange.  Then it is over, and I marvel at the distance traveled in twenty-nine pages.

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George Smiley Rules!

November 12, 2010 in Reading, Spotlighting, Watching by Colleen | Permalink

Oh, John Le Carre, you are good, very, very good.  I am terribly sorry that this program doesn’t let me make accent marks, for it is not a lack of caring that your name is unadorned.  You are a stellar writer, and I wish I could give you your due by spelling your name properly.  I should also add that I love making accent marks.  Besides, after twelve years of French, I know when they are necessary.  When to use the plus-que-parfait, well don’t ask.  I was always better at accents, by voice or a pen.

Anyhoo, to dear George Smiley, the ne-plus-ultra (more Francais!) spy of spies, you are the cat’s pajamas.  Another aside here, did you know that this has nothing to do with felines sporting flannel?  Rather, it was in reference to a tailor in the 1700s, named Katz who made the finest clothes in the land.  Fancy that!  As for George in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, after being forced into early retirement, he is called back into service on an uber top secret mission to discover the identity of a very high ranking mole in the British service, one planted by his Russian counterpart Karla decades earlier.  In Smiley’s People, George is called reluctantly into service, yet again, with the murder of an old friend and a mystery that may lead him straight to his arch nemesis, Karla.  Beat of drums!

Rather unlike the films I associate with spies, even ones I like (Jason Bourne, anyone?), and the reason I hadn’t thought to read the books before, the story is utterly lacking in flash.  There are no violent car chases, spies with super powers, or romantic liaisons among the rock hard ab crowd.  Quite the contrary, they cough from too many cigarettes, have grey hair, paunches, and failing marriages.  Where they do not fail is in their utter brilliance, patience, and attention to detail.  These are the men and women I want on my side in a crisis.  They are extremely dedicated to the service (save one) and work long hours in hardly glamorous conditions to meet that end.

Not to say that the lack of glamor makes the writing any less engaging.  John Le Carre is a fine storyteller, and his characters feel as real as the cat sitting on my lap.  I could not put these books down, using any excuse to sit and read a page or two or thirty.  Highly recommended!

Should you decide to forgo reading the stories, the BBC versions are terrific and available on Netflix, though Smiley’s People is easier to follow than Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (like the book, there are many details, characters, and time shifts – be patient and pay attention).  The hubster and I saw Smiley’s People a couple of years before I decided to read the novels, so even without the benefit of knowing the story, I found it no less exciting or interesting.  As well, it gave me the picture of Alec Guinness as George, for which I am ever so grateful.  Those glasses, that voice!

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Under the Same Moon

August 25, 2010 in Admiring, Celebrating, Reading by Colleen | 3 comments

Exciting news everyone!

My friend Kelli, of African Kelli, has just had her first book published, and last night, her very first reading.  I can only imagine the butterflies, joy, and magic in Phoenix!  A dream come true.

This moment is even more special for me because it gives me hope that my book will one day be out there, too.  As well, my good friend Colleen designed the cover, and rather beautifully, don’t you think?

I am hoping we can all make it a bit sweeter by buying our own copies (mine is on the way).  Let’s get her to the top of the Amazon list!

Under the Same Moon, by Kelli Donley

Abena Udate was selling mangoes on a humid market day in her Mozambican village when she caught the eye of a wandering foreigner. Kidnapped and brought to live in suburban America, the African teenager struggles with the glaring cultural and social differences of her new life. Abena is expected to play along with her kidnapper’s story — she’s just another hungry child plucked from a desolate country and saved by foreign adoption — or else. As her younger brother Kupela searches for clues to explain her disappearance, Abena must decide whether to remain with a family she doesn’t love for a life of luxury, or find a way home to those she loves in a world of despair.

Support an emerging writer – buy it here!

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