Desert Magnolia

As the biggest storm of year, 'a whopper!' by national weather standards, makes its way across the West and into the Midwest today, we find ourselves making a few wishes: 1. Please let it NOT impede Son's journey home. He needs (ok we need him) to be home in time for Christmas Eve. 2. Please let it wait, just 12 more hours, to superchill us. We love hanging out by a crackling fire, sipping cider, playing Scrabble and backgammon and super silly card games. Together. 3. Let it allow a white Christmas. A beautiful, peaceful, serene Norman Rockwell-ish holiday. That's all. Just three wishes.

Saturday afternoon. The mail comes, Hubby grabs it from the box, and, for some reason unknown to any of us, he opens the water bill then instead of when he pays bills at the end of the month. Water bills tend to be the same within each season, after all. Unless they're TWICE what they one before was. Which this one was. Really? WHY????? Well, 18,000 gallons more usage than the prior month. 18,000. That's a whole lotta water. Leaking somewhere. Many profanities escaped our mouths before we took several deep breaths and collected our wits. Which meant calling a leak detection service. On a Saturday. Which meant overtime. Or a premium. Or whatever they call it. But a LOT. A really nice man wearing a logo'd shirt and thermals and carrying a modern day divining rod found the leak. Fortunately, it was outside the house..but right outside Daughter's bedroom. And it was deep. 4 feet or so. Turns out the water main broke. And leaked. And leaked some more....

It's one of those weeks. A rule breaking week. One where I decide, around 1 p.m. on Wednesday, that Thursday morning for the weekly beverage treat of a chocolate steamer is far too far away. So I go an errand. A really important errand. Involving swinging by Satellite, finding a good parking spot (no easy feat since the UNM area, where Satellite resides, is nutso this time of day/year) and ordering up my new favorite almost perfect beverage. Mission accomplished. Sunbeam is shining across my desk, a promising pile of content for review awaits, and I realize that once again, it's the simple things. Always the simple things.

Yesterday they picked up the CPM machine. That bad boy worked many hours to keep Daughter's knee bending at ever increasing angles during the first days of her recovery. This morning the cryo/compression device went back. Of the two machines, this one was definitely her favorite as it helped minimize inflammation, provided cooling comfort and generally soothed the knee while it began its healing. The brace is the one piece of hardware remaining, and that has a week or so left in our house. Today, today is the first PT session. I predict an evening where Daughter is pleased to be on the path, and sore as we'd expect her to be after the initial therapy. Milestones. Baby milestones, but milestones nonetheless.

When I first saw Milagro Beanfield War many years ago, I viewed it as yet another great novel underserved during the screenwriting and production process. I was crabby about some omitted details, details I had found poignant and key to the story as I interpreted it. I was hypercritical of character development (or lack thereof in my opin), and felt less than enough time had been spent providing a basis for the viewer. In short, I didn't like it. Since I saw it for the first time, critiqued it to no end, and basically decided that what Redford did was a reflection of his Eastern seaboard roots vs deep immersion into the whole Northern New Mexico life/politics/Hispanic history/flavor, I've mellowed a bit. I've begun to shun most critiques (literary and cinematic) as just that -- opinions often rendered by those that critique rather than risk creative failure by actually writing or producing or directing a book or movie. That said, I'd like to alter my opinion ...

We never seem to run out of laundry to wash/dry/fold. Ever. And we even have a very diplomatic process in our house (precipitated some years back by the Son sandbagging me one Sunday afternoon with piles of unwashed clothes long after the entire weekend batch had been nicely folded and put away) -- everyone does their own. Oh, I pick up the slack and wash all the sheets and towels, but everyone is responsible for doing their own wearables. The day this process started began an era of laundry bliss. Everyone has total control of their wardrobe. If they run out of socks or undies or clean jeans, it's their own fault. If their closets are pristine, hung with fresh-smelling, wrinkle free clothes, they can take credit. For the most part, this system continues to work well. For the most part, but most systems occasionally falter, then regain equilibrium. See, sometimes I'm the one who gets behind. Never in the washing/drying part. Just in the folding part. I'm reall...

But I'm ok with that. How do I know this about myself? I recently bought these. I'm pretty sure you can't be buying and wearing these unless you're at least 25% hippie. Also, they're not my first pair. I have two others. Purchased within a year of each other. Brown, and black. But I bought them a really long time ago. And they never wear out. They're like the Volvo of shoes. Really, you can't tell that there's an entire DECADE of wear on them. So I got a little bored, went shopping, and found these bad boys. Apparently, that's how I roll.

Great movie! Charming, great quirky, interesting characters. Fun topics -- food and life journeys. Definitely worth a view if you have any fondness for: food, Julia Child, Meryl Streep, Amy Adams, quirky characters, finding your way, identifying your true passion and food. As the movie was playing I got out my own edition of Mastering the Art of French Cooking and flipped through it. It had been awhile, so doing so once more made me feel connected to my inner artistic foodie. The timing was terrific as my friend KD's birthday is this weekend, and I'm making a dark chocolate cake with buttercream frosting to help celebrate. I love the buttercream frosting recipes in the book. Of the three, I use the first. It's a matter of preference, I suppose, but there you have it. I love being entertained, and the movie was definitely entertaining. I also love being reminded of just how very much I love food. Thinking about it, preparing it, presenting it, enjoying it, I love i...

Food, well, food connects us to our history, to our lineage, to memories and childhood and celebrations and mostly it soothes and nurtures. My bloodline is like many Americans, a mix of northern European (Scottish, English, Czech) and in my case, Mediterranean as well. I come from a crazy Lebanese family whose passions run deep and love of food and family is absolutely legendary. We talk about food. We eat food, we talk about food we've prepared and eaten in the past, and food we'll prepare for upcoming life events. And we tend to bicker a bit, which makes it fun. My Aunt's take on Grandma Alice's recipes is a little different than mine.  I believe my Grandma, at whose hip I learned to estimate measurements using the palm of my hand, my eyes and my tastebuds, would want me to adapt a bit to best suit my family's taste. So I do. But as I was making a treasured dish the other night, pthiad (triangular pies filled with spiced meat and pine nuts), I realized how...

One of Daughter's friends brought her a lovely warm drink the other day. It's called  London Fog with Blue Eyes. I got to taste it, and OMG it's delicious! Turns out it's a blend of Earl Grey tea, steamed milk, vanilla, and Blue Eyes tea which has a lovely, fruity flavor. The blend? Perfect. I may be addicted. Does having one the day after her friend came by, then thinking about them incessantly since then count? Ok, fine.

Saw the surgeon today, and all is well. Daughter is progressing nicely, is moving from big pain meds to lesser, gets to start using her leg more, and gets to go back to school tomorrow. She's not looking forward to that part.  The campus is pretty stretched out, with hills and steps to navigate, but I'm guessing seeing her friends and rejoining the chaos will be good for her. Big, happy sigh. All's well in the world, yes?

The last week has been a blur, but we're headed in a good direction. The Daughter, well, she did very well. She's maintained a sense of humor in the face of unbelievable pain, the uncertainty of outcome, and generally in spite of it all. I'm really not sure where the entire week has gone, but mostly it's been consumed with pain management, exercises, cryo packing, learning to get around on crutches,  showering, etc. Somewhere between her surgery and now we hosted (what the hell were we thinking ???) Thanksgiving, albeit on a lesser scale than usual. If you can call a 30 lb. turkey and all the sides lesser. But that's not the point. The week has become a haze through which we've navigated, laughing as much as possible at the silliness of the equipment (there's a lot), our awkwardness changing dressings (think Mo and Curly learn to doctor) and just accepting that each day brings a new and positive development. Things that matter right now? The simple...

KS and I have been friends for nearly, well, ever.  We're both only children, and have basically stepped in as chosen sibs for one another. We're sort of the yin yang of friends, our coloring particularly. She's blonde and I'm brunette, she's  effusive and I'm a little more serious, but mostly we balance one another through life. We're sort of like bookends, she and I, representing both ends of the spectrum of life at any given moment. She manages to be calm when I'm in a tizzy, and I like to think I've done the same for her. It's nice. This year she and her fam are headed to warm tropical breezes, sunning on the beach, shopping in quaint little stores along the harbor, and generally avoiding the traditional turkey day festivities. We did decide there is something fundamentally askew with a thought stream that involves ingesting turkey and donning a bikini, though. That's just not typically done, right? Anyway, she's on to somethi...

My colleague and friend D brought in pumpkin bread today. With chocolate chips in it. I often avoid treats since in an office of this size they're common, and I like it when my jeans fit, which they wouldn't do if I enjoyed every sweet treat that generous chefs contribute to our collective cause. But today, well, lil' baby ham sandwich on whole wheat at 1130 a.m. had long been absorbed, and that pumpkin bread was beckoning. In a big way. I think I actually *heard* it call to me. Really. So I ate a big chunk. Hey, if you're gonna fall, fall all the way, right? Yum. Excellent choice. Particularly when enjoyed with a cup of steaming hot and rather strong java that D also brewed up. :-) Once again we see it's truly the little things that make the big differences, no?

In the last few weeks my vocabulary has expanded. Dramatically. But not in a way I would have planned for...it's been of necessity as we've educated ourselves and prepared for Daughter's upcoming surgery. Some jargon: MRI (ok, that's kind of intuitive.); medial meniscus; anterior cruciate ligament; rupture; tear; soft tissue vs patellar tendon; CPM (continuous passive motion) machine; Game Day (cool, compression sleeve/ circulating ice water device that's applied immediately after surgery to prevent swelling and keep the knee comfy); knee immobilizer; sports brace, etc. There's a lot more stuff..but these are high points, in my non-medical opin. They all play into this equation as either actions taken, tests given to assess damage, elements of the surgery itself, or support for post surgery recovery. There is a whole lot of stuff that goes on well before a knee surgery, to say nothing of what happens during and later. Prep= modest activity to keep the leg ...

We watched the new Star Trek movie last night, and it was so fun! Loved it! Very retro, very good work establishing all of the ties to the old story line. Highly entertaining and enjoyable! As I was watching it I realized I was also trying to figure out how,  at this point in time, I might be able to miraculously tap into that whole 'time folds and stretches and it's possible (hello, Mr. Spock) to be in more than one place at a time in time'...concept. Wouldn't that be cool? Or am I just sucking at the whole life balance pursuit right now? That may be the case. I'm looking at what needs to happen before this week can end, (500 real work deadlines to meet, none of which can be dropped or heads will roll...ok, my head will roll). Then entertaining Saturday night. Then tons of prep/nesting before Daughter has her surgery next week. I'll be trying to get as much done as possible to ensure she's guaranteed healthy, yummy snacks while she recovers, that th...

It's Monday again. Happens this time every single week, and sometimes I just wish that there could be one more day stuck in between Friday and Monday. No, I don't have any cute/clever name ideas for what that day would be called, but I just vote for one. Sooner rather than later, please. On a happy note, I tried the Trader Joe's Wintry Blend coffee this morning and it's delicious! It's been ground with cinnamon, cloves, and red and green peppercorns. It's a medium dark roast, with a nice subtle spice to it. Yum!  It'll accompany Thanksgiving dessert perfectly! Also, we saw Celtic Women last night at Popejoy. Holy moly can those women sing! They were tremendous! Very uplifting performance, pre-holiday, pre-Daughter surgery, pre-week..very. Happy week, everyone!

Remember Moonstruck, the movie? Yeah, the one with Cher, Nicolas Cage, Olympia Dukakis, Danny Aielo, Vincent Gardenia and other good actors. And that great scene with the really huge moon. Love that scene. Every time I go to New York I look for that moon, but no luck yet. Cosmo's moon looked a little like this one: Fun movie. When you're a freaky food lover like me, though, you tend to take things away from movie experiences besides just the plot, the acting, the directing, etc. You take away ideas for food. Which is how we permanently added Moonstruck Eggs to our breakfast recipes. You just slice a thick slice of sourdough bread, butter both sides, carve a hole in it for an egg, then slap it into a pan. Drop an egg into the hole, let it cook for while, then flip. As you're flipping, spray a little Pam or butter beneath where the egg is going to hit the pan or it'll stick. Be sure to cook the round pieces of bread you carved out, too. They get nice and c...

From time to time I'm reminded of how much I covet my 'off' time, my 'relax and regroup' time, my weekends. From time to time I work weekends. Sometimes my job takes me to places where events happen over weekends or travel is necessary over weekends or for some reason I'm required to be awake/aware/engaged during a time when I usually hibernate. Last weekend was a working weekend. I'm now finishing up two full weeks+one very busy weekend in a row of work/thinking/emoting/exuding. I'm done. Time for very little thinking, less exuding, even less emoting (emoting is exhausting, this we know) and NO work. For just a couple of days. Happy Friday everyone, and have a lovely, restful weekend!

Once upon a time, I liked Gerard Butler. In his Tomb Raider days. He was mysterious and foreign and interesting. But not anymore. He's gained commercial success, which means he's opted for the smarmy/good looking/former rebel now sappy guy roles that tend to be offered to moderately successful, handsome actors after they've struggled for awhile and then been 'noticed' by the public. Sigh. And Katherine Heigl? I loved her on Grey's Anatomy for a long time. Even put up with her occasionally whiny, narcissistic moments. But this role? She managed to mangle the informed intellectual female role to where it resembled a more shrewish, bitter, insecure look and feel and I didn't like it at all. Bad writing. Mediocre acting. Disappointing outcome.

Notice anything different on my blog? Yes! My friend LP created a cool image for me and I LOVE LOVE LOVE it! Thank you LP for taking the time to make Desert Magnolia look prettier and less, um, random! Wednesday. It's the day of the week that, if we in fact survive through noon, means we're halfway there. Halfway to the end, halfway to where we look forward to a couple of days to reorganize and nest and plan for Thanksgiving. Eek! Thanksgiving already! So, our menu so far looks like this: Turkey . (This year I'm going to make a yummy lemon/thyme/garlic butter to rub between the skin and bird. ) Stuffing . (This is so much fun. Love to sautee up apples and celery and onions, then mix in fresh rubbed spices, bread cubes and broth then bake it in my favorite blue pottery casserole dish that my very first real boss gave me, and yes, it's still in one piece! Love the crusty top and the soft, steamy middle.) Mashed potatoes . (Hubby is in charge this year. He...

Just returned from Ft. Lauderdale where I realized a couple of things. First, I could get used to living where the humidity is >10% on any given day. Really, my skin felt fab.u.lous the entire time I was there! Second, I may be too old to live somewhere that cool. Really. I was reminded on multiple (at least 100) occasions that there is no way in hell that I'm going to wear my bikini cut that high and scant. To do so would require grooming beyond rational bounds. Also, I'm trying hard to imagine anyone wanting being forced to look. And they wouldn't be able to help looking. We love train wrecks, right? On one occasion where my decision to wear more (it's relative, I realize) modestly cut suits was reinforced poolside. No shocker there, right?  Halfway during my lunch, an improbably voluptuous bottle blonde in a turquoise bikini top that was about 4 sizes too small for her balloon breasts swayed by and after I stopped staring (seriously, I tried not to look, bu...

Halloween has never been my favorite holiday. Some of my friends go absolutely bonkers over it, and begin planning costumes in early summer. I'm not one of them, and chuckle when I think of some of the costumes I've donned in my life. As a kid I usually went the pirate, hobo, and gypsy route. Later on, though, well, things started to get a little sillier. There was the year I went as a Hershey's kiss. Seriously. Complete with chocolate 'perfume'. Now that was something...brown Danksin leotard from head to toe, kiss foil 'body' with a big hoop at the bottom so it really looked like a kiss shape, white tab sticking out the top. It was hilarious. Hard to go to the bathroom, but somehow I managed..and I giggled when everyone started craving chocolate if they stood by me for more than a minute. That chocolate extract I used as perfume brought out the chocolate hound in the best of 'em. Dolly Parton was next. Blonde wig,  gold lame sleeveless vest and fl...

Each day of the week holds significance. Monday is all about getting back into the swing of things after cursing the alarm and dragging out of a very warm, comfortable bed. Tuesday is about celebrating the fact that Monday is over, and actually attacking the monstrous To Do list that Monday's organizational frenzy produced. Wednesday, well, it's about taking a breath in the middle of the chaos and knowing that at the end of the business day, the week will be more than half over. And continuing the momentum that finally occurred late Tuesday morning and must continue through late Friday. Thursday. For me, Thursday is special. It's the day I treat myself to a chocolate steamer with an espresso shot from the Grove, a treat I savor all morning long, often accompanied by an apple somewhere around 10 a.m. I rewarm my drink around then, too, since it's not quite as piping hot as it should be to warm my core and preserve the deeply warm dark chocolate yumminess. Tonig...

It's getting chilly out, which means it's time to break out the boots. Not the sissy, high heeled Steve Maddens, or the cool, saucy Kenneth Coles. I'm talkin' cowboy boots. My Western roots are showing, aren't they? Good. I like that about myself. I also like boots. A lot. Don't get me wrong, I own the high-heeled pretty black boots and the saucy tan Kenneth Coles and the warm sheepskin lined boots that everyone loves so much, too. But cowboy boots, well, they just do something to a girl. They make you work, just to get them on. But when your foot slides nicely into a perfectly broken-in, glovelike boot, it feels like home. 'Ahhh!', you're tempted to say. Or I am, anyway. They bestow instant attitude. I have never donned my Tony Lama cowhides without assuming just a bit of the badass.  I think I like the badass from time to time. Maybe the attitude has to do with the tight jeans I always wear with my boots. Maybe it's to do with the sw...

Dating, as my friends who are out there playing the game insist, is not for wimps. Whether you're trolling via your friend network, or utilizing the worldwide 'web, the process is fraught with silliness. So my friend J is going out tonight. To dinner.  With an engineer her friends introduced her to at a wedding they all attended recently. Safe meeting ground, and good references since it was real friends and not some online service or scam 'vouching' for the guy. She feels good about this upcoming dinner, thinks the guy actually has a pretty good sense of humor (I did NOT say 'for an engineer' cuz that wouldn't be very nice). There's only one problem. She's letting him pick her up. She never does this. See, she needs a way to escape..just in case things get dicey, which, as it turns out, they can do with no warning. Turns out by the time he'd had her confirm her address, she was too deep in to back away without seeming rude. J is intensely ...

Science and technology have been good for wedding planning. How do I know this? Well, last week our very good friend KD married. A really nice man. With a big, loud family. And the normal complement of madness. They've worked hard at this relationship. The love has always been there. The logistics, politics, practical considerations and emotions surrounding harmoniously blending families have played into the whole equation. More than once. The bride? Stunning in a princess like eggplant lace dress. Gorgeous. Her blonde hair was arranged in  a soft updo, with pincurls in the back. Sooo pretty. The ceremony? In a lovely Catholic church with small stained glass windows. The light came through and created an absolutely gorgeous glow in the entire church. Vows, were a nice mix of traditional and modern. Short, with a mass. Serenity and joy and calm infused us all. The serenity piece was, for me, unexpected. See, Daughter got injured in a soccer game earlier in the day. A knee in...

Conference was an absolute success. Presenters, well, they were world class. Networking, awesome. Weather...well, all I can say is Really? Are you kidding me? 80 degrees on average, with spikes to 90. Humidity always. Wind (does Scirocco mean anything to you guys? Why did I spend time on my hair anyway???) seems to kick up at will. Speaking of hair and stuff, I figured out what to wear. Went with the cool lacy blouses, jeans, heels for at night, and more professional skirts and tops during the day. Seemed to work fine except it's 90 outside and 62 in the buildings. Eek! Final day, though, tops it all.  Lance Armstrong was receiving a humanitarian award for his work promoting cancer awareness and research. The presentation was heart rending and beautiful, his presentation, and how he shared his story, well, humbling is the best way to describe that. Made me want to shelve all of my petty complaints and look for a greater cause besides the cause of moi to focus upon. Go Lanc...

It's suppose to be in the 80's during the day, and only in the 70's at night. It's humid. I'm not sure what to pack. For once I'm attending a conference instead of having a booth at the tradeshow and networking that way. It's going to be good...to be in the classroom, listening to what people are caring about now. I look forward to it. But I'm spending way too much time worrying about whether jeans are too hot, capris are too cliche, clogs are passe, should I just go with a theme and be done with it, and all that crap. Seriously, you'd think I have better things to waste mental energy on, right? Apparently not so much.

Italian cuisine is replete with masterpieces. Any of the piccatas or marsalas or parmigianas are enough to send you right over into culinary bliss. Northern or Southern recipes, they're remarkable for either their richness or their freshness or their robust combination of seasonings. Since our tomatoes have been going completely bonkers, we've been making caprese salads-a taste sensation of their very own. Love the wonderful sweet tomato and fresh mozzarella slices, spicy chopped and whole leaf basil, all topped with a little kosher salt, pepper, a drizzle of balsamic and olive oil. Freshness on a plate, and with a bit of crustini or garlic bread, you've got yourself dinner. And it's a dish that shows beautifully, so it's great to take to dinner parties. My guiltiest pleasure among the Italian choices would have to be Osso Buco topped with garlicy gremolata. Couple that with a lovely, deep and hearty red Italian wine, maybe a Barbera,  and culinary heaven await...

There is just something indescribable about feeling your muscles respond and pushing into the perfect running pace. It's fabulous. I love when it all comes together - form, air, energy, and efficiency. When all of the thought given to achieving each of those is gone, and the realization occurs. When it's the sun on your face, the blood flowing through happy muscles, the sound of regular, strong breaths. And the thought that 'I could do this forever if I wanted to' streams through your consciousness. Life is made up of a symphony of simple events, and a good run definitely numbers among those for me.

This weekend was Homecoming, and it was full of activities including soccer games, the dance, etc. Daughter played on Saturday, in a fierce game against a new high school. The battle was hard fought, but unfortunately lost. By one point. It was sad, but I was incredibly proud of the girls. They held their heads high and several were heard to say, 'Those girls are good. They wanted it, they earned it. Losing sucks, but if you have to, losing like that is ok.' Daughter was also voted Homecoming Queen. Seriously. How cool is that?? She didn't even tell us she was in the running. But she looks super cute adorned with her tiara...that's all I'm sayin'. Some of the best conversations occur between us spectators, on the sidelines, while the game is being played. There's the usual bitching about refs, in which I refuse to engage unless we're faced with a ref whose skills are endangering the girls' physical well being. There's the predictable 'soc...

It occurred to me that I've slowed my posting down a bit after my initial flurry. I'm guessing this is due to life being incredibly busy, my not being compelled to write about absolutely every boring event that goes on and other stuff. And then I realized something pretty cool. The same (unconscious) governing behavior that surfaces when I'm working on my novel, which makes me overthink and under write is attempting to edit me before I even get really rolling here. But I'm not going to stop. Even if I only write a little, and some would consider it, meh, in the world of posts. That said, a few items to bring you up to date. First, the daughter is playing really good soccer her senior year. Really good. And she's working hard to push beyond what she's accepted in herself before. Wow. All this and taking hard classes and anticipating college far away and generally shouldering a LOT. Go girl. And ask for help if you need it. Second, the son is about to ta...

Liability. It's what you owe on a balance sheet. It's what you try to avoid pretty much everywhere else. I mean, who wants to the be the liability on the 'idea team'? Who wants to be the spy whose time has come due to 'becoming a liability issue'? Nobody. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Today I went on an errand at lunch, and found myself in a department store. They have a jewelry counter, and sell watches, lots of them. Lots of brands, including the one I'd brought in for a new battery. But they no longer replace watch batteries. They outsource that to a kiosk in the mall with a name like FastFixx or something clever like that. The salesclerk was cordial, but I could feel snark right beneath the surface. I interpreted that as defensiveness, most likely developed over time as she's delivered the message to countless people who have, until this time, always gone there to get their batteries replaced. See, they don't want to be responsible...

JT is coming to town, and we're going. We're celebrating our anniversary, and we'll be joined by a whole group of friends. The concert is at Sandia Casino, a lovely venue, so that makes it even better. We've seen Gipsy Kings and Ottmar Liebert there. Both were outstanding in their own right. I really wish Michael Buble had performed there instead of at that hockey rink/arena way out in the Rio Rancho boondocks. He was great there, I can't even begin to imagine what he'd be like in a more intimate setting. Yikes. Pray it doesn't rain. While it seldom precipitates in this neck of the woods, we're supposed to have a surge of moisture sweeping through the state over the weekend. (eye roll) Oh, it's Friday. Today I got a grande cinnamon dolce latte on the way in to work, just because. Because I've somehow managed to almost survive this ridiculously intense week. Because I chose today to be a pink day...pink cardigan over jeans and my pink beaded...

Setting: a tempest of high desert proportions. A soccer game. Wind swirling, black clouds hanging ominously close to the ground, sheets of rain visible less than a mile north of the soccer fields. 2nd half of the game, other team is up by 1 point. The daughter gets fouled and ends up taking a free kick. A free kick. That's a kick around/over/through a line of the other team's players, aimed at the goal. The goal, of course, is to score. This seldom happens. Daughter squares her shoulders, takes a cleansing breath, spies a teeny tiny opening and shoots. A rocket. Right through the opening and into the goal. Then gets a charming smile on her face. Then gets high fived by everyone else on the team. And I do that little dance when it goes in, but not the one where the hips wiggle; that would be rude. Just the one where hands go up, fists formed, and a big smile comes. Parents came up to me and said, 'How can you stand to watch when she takes those?? I'd be a wreck! ...

It's hard to imagine the conversation that would have resulted in those ridiculous, oversized bull testicle looking things hanging from trailer hitches on trucks and 4x4's. It really is. What's even more difficult is to imagine someone, now sober, actually executing on the idea. Living in the Southwest means appreciating contrasts on a daily basis. The culture and the urbanism, the breathtaking, arid beauty of the high desert against the lush green of the river valley, the extraordinary ratio of PhD's to high school grads (due to the close proximity of not one but two enormous lab facilities), and so on. And then there's the element of the testosterone charged. That's present in any region, but here it often includes trucks....big ones, small ones, 4x4's, etc., but trucks are a big part of it all. Also boots, but we won't go there right now. I'm assuming the enormous hanging testicle facsimiles are simply an extension of this phenomenon. It...

A blog by a mid-lifer wouldn't be complete without occasional musings on the whole aging thing, so here ya go. My first in what may prove to be a series, over time, on my thoughts about this topic. First of all, the whole inside feeling young and perky and healthy vs the outside showing the ravages feels fundamentally unfair, but it is what it is. We sun, we laugh, we stress, we get too little sleep, we simply live , and, over time...lots of time, all of this shows. On our faces. Everywhere, actually. So what should we do? Should we refrain from life's roller coaster ride and live in a bubble sans sun, sans laughter, sans the complexity that makes the great journey infinitely interesting? I don't think so. One of my fondest memories of sun worship involves my Mom, and me at 9 months pregnant with my son. We oiled up, laid out, and for the first time in months my aches went away and I soaked up the lovely Spring sunshine. Which was actually kind of funny, when you t...

With Farrah's recent passing I was catapulted into nostalgia as I remembered how much she had impacted my life. Yes, mine. No, we weren't buds, but her influence resulted in me being cool for the first time in  my life. How? My feathered Farrah 'do, that's how. I had super thick hair that loved to flip sassily...and for the first time I looked 'styled' vs, well, you know, kinda ruffled. Suffice to say my Mom had cut my hair my whole childhood (with one exception that ended up in my looking much more like Dorothy Hamill than anyone had thought possible but fortunately that grew out).  It was awesome. I was content to have great hair, though, naturally I secretly yearned for the curves to fill out a bikini the way she did, as well. Hairstyles have changed through the years, and mine has gone from Farrah flip long, to pageboy length, to chin-length bob, to super short spikey. I'm now growing out a short cut, and am chafing. Seriously chafing. Here's...

When I was pregnant with my daughter it was brought to my attention that I was a bit tense, much of the time (the tense part, not the brought to my attention part). This was true. Why wouldn't it be? I had a 3 year old energetic son running around doing what 3+ year olds do, I was working and going to school, and I was pregnant. That combo will tense out even the most hormonally saturated happy-to-be-preggers among us. My Grandma, who is very crafty and gifted in the whole sewing/crocheting/knitting arena in ways I clearly am not, suggested I try knitting in the evenings to relax. Sounded reasonable, sounded like a good healthy way to let the stress of the day ebb away, right? In theory, yes. In practice, not really. See, what Grandma forgot was my perfectionist tendencies (which I'm proud to say have ebbed over time to a more manageable level..but don't ask Hubby because he might have a different opin because he calls things like he sees them because he's like t...

You know the kind I mean. The ones that natives use to protect their territory. Just a slight 'whoosh' as the dart lets fly, a tse tse fly sting as it finds its mark in the great white intruder, then 'Whomp!' as the big white body hits the dirt for a peaceful little nap. That's all I want. Is that too much to ask? My fantasies employing said blow gun and lots of tranquilizer darts..well, these originate to when our kids first started playing soccer. When parents whose mouths were bigger than their intellects and/or knowledge of the game would spout off. Incessantly. Loudly. Creating frowns of embarrassment on the faces of their children and head shakes as the rest of us witnessed stupidity of a stunning magnitude. I've also fantasized about elephant guns that deliver payloads of tranquilizers sufficient to render offenders unconscious for the entire soccer season. The. Entire. Season. I'm pretty sure if I passed a hat around it would come back full of ...

Had a moment of weakness today, following hours of distraction. It's one of those days in a week of intense pressure when the brain just snaps into 'rest' mode. It's done. It's in search of... ...cute shoes, as it turns out! They were...really really really on sale. And so cute in a high-heel snakeskin-y way. And I can actually visualize them in several ensembles..really! What do you think?

The lovely aroma of deep, rich chocolate with a middle note of espresso fills my head and I smile. My tastebuds jump for joy when I taste this blend of comforting warmth,  and I know the day is headed in a fine direction. As I sip, I notice I've chosen a stretchy lace blouse of a shade similar to the chocolate in my cup. Hmmm, I wonder if the day is destined to hold simple pleasures like this. One can only hope, yes? Happy Friday!

Do you remember when being polite and courteous above all else was paramount? When the thought of calling someone out on their BS stream or challenging a relative on a political or religious stance was unthinkable? Me too. But it's been awhile. I'm not sure when my filter started to fail, but for sure the last five years have definitely taken a toll on its integrity. Nonconfrontational by nature, I avoid runins that get messy whenever and wherever possible. I've strained my emotions and sensibilities so many times it's a wonder I haven't ended up looking like a female version of Gumby.  I guess I'm just wired this way. (Note: My natural inclination to avoid confrontation and anger has, however, been known to evaporate under the influence of too much cabernet. I'm just sayin'. Another reason to moderate intake, right?) Through the years I've envied those who can just let loose and tell their opponents how they feel, hold their ground, etc. I...

If anyone had ever told me I'd be in a business where bodyworkers and estheticians work side by side, tossing around terms like 'cranial sacral therapy' and 'microdermabrasion', I'd have told them they were nuts. Me? A medium maintenance, more natural than glitzy kinda girl? Apparently so. I've seen things that non-practitioners should never see. For example, a Brazilian wax demo. On an enormous monitor above the waxee. Gulp. There's also the ceaseless spray tanning,  eyelash extending, cellulite ironing, breast lifting (with tape--I know!), and so on. These things no longer phase me. I can watch all this AND eat my yummy chicken caesar salad with stale croutons without blinking an eye. Took me a few years to completely de-sensitize, but I'm there. Turns out, I'm still immature, though. Middle-school immature. How do I know this about myself? Well, a couple weeks ago I was at a makeup training class to talk to the students about my comp...

So the other day I escaped the confines of my office in search of nutrition. I do this. On a regular basis as it turns out. But that's not the point of this little story. See, I was in the truck. (Picture below courtesy of the manufacturer website.) The beautiful, cranberry red bad ass truck we bought awhile back that makes hubby (the not car guy) smile every time he gets in it, and serves as the workhorse we didn't even realize we needed around our house. We haul a lot of stuff in, a lot of stuff out, enjoy outdoor stuff that benefits from having a truck around, and so on. But I digress.   Hubby was out of town for a few days, so I was driving the truck. I love the truck. It makes a really cool growl-y sound when you accelerate. You can feel it in your butt, and there's something way cool about that. I'm digressing again. Anyway, I'm minding the speed limit, making my way to lunch, when this deranged, over caffeinated, aggressive driving person, whose l...

Everyone is back to school, and the shopping has commenced. We don't normally do the full on back to school clothes shopping blitz; instead we tend to pace ourselves. We shop all the time...and, as a result, have become quite the sale junkies. Yes, the economy is in the toilet. But we take our responsibility for the greater good seriously--we throw a pretty constant stream of cash at the retail endeavor. Yes, our money has to go a looooong way what with a child in college on the East Coast and many many ways to spend our hard-earned dollars, but...in truth, we like sales. We like to shop. Sales allow us to justify our purchases, consciences clear, as we proudly display the absolutely darling pencil skirt that goes with the heretofore lonely charcoal patent pumps that have been waiting to accent the perfect skirt. The sleeveless black sweater, also deeply discounted, with the cool rhinestone-y zipper that really, miraculously does not render the sweater hooker wear, will top t...

What makes someone begin a blog? Do they have a secret desire to share old hurts, new hurts, various views on life, questions, loves, complaints, blessing and banes? I think so. I never thought I'd be one of these people. In fact, when I first started paying attention to blogs as part of a research project with work, I thought the bloggers were a bit self indulgent, a bit narcissistic, a bit transparent regarding intensely personal issues that they shared in an anonymous monologue/dialogue with those who monitor their posts.   I thought they were a little cowardly for choosing an anonymous venue; I'm starting to get it. In fact, I get it enough to have begun a blog....myself. Me, the very serious, terribly private, rather introspective yet effusive one whose career requires being out there , ie available. My job requires me to be on at all times, in fact, even when I'm not really on I have to fake it. I fake it alright. I'm on whenever I need to be, but few have a ...