i guess i'll stick around

This election, this election.

Man, what are we going to do when it's over? Ally B said we'll all have to get a life again. I've neglected mine -- in favor of watching this whole process like a hawk -- to the point where I might not recognize it when we meet again on Wednesday.

I don't have to tell you guys. I think my preoccupation has shown around here. Just a little.

I'm looking for a crowd to gather with on election night. I'll probably head up to Austin, because I know my mother-in-law and her crew are down to par-tay.

I took a break from feeding my obsession to get unbelievably homesick for LA this week. Wednesday I almost packed up Mira and hit the 10 West. I wouldn't even have needed a map. It's the 10 all the way from my new address to my old one, and I was ready to ride it. I made some tearful phone calls, heard some encouraging and sensible words -- from that dynamic duo Schmin and Natalie-- and hung on for another day.

I got my absentee ballot on Wednesday, and on Thursday afternoon, I voted.

I'm a little sad that I couldn't go into a booth and pull the lever, and I sure do miss the little sticker, but voting was wonderful nevertheless. Like Oprah, nobody has to ask me who I selected for president, or why I was buzzing after I bubbled in his number.

Then I moved on to my branch library and got myself a card.

Ah, the library, where I truly feel at home. This one is pretty nice, no?

I made a beeline to the crafty books. Knitting's on the top; there's no garment sewing, only quilting. It's a small branch library, so I didn't expect too much.

God bless Natalie's eyes, because when I got home, a box of my favorite Trader Joe's treats was waiting for me.

this is the post

...that I am posting in case I can't post no mo' when I get home.

snow day

Okay I am so cheating the date on this post. DSL was out yesterday at the crib where I live until I live somewhere else, so I couldn't do a post. I came to Border's to teach my classes. I don't finish until 11pm, Texas time, and that's when Border's closes. I was going to try to sneak in a post during class, but I had enough to do with working to talk over the music, the crowd, and the espresso machine, and trying to ignore the people who were looking at me giving my lecture to my invisible class like I was a crazy homeless person who'd lucked into a laptop.

So I wasn't really absent from school yesterday (today, ha ha). The building was closed.

woops

big letdowns, vol 1

Whenever I see sliced beets I think, Yum! Cranberry sauce!

in pictures

By now everyone's seen beaucoup images of Obama and his family, but here is a link to some of the most moving. I love the intimacy of the photographer's captions. Looking at the photos imparts the feeling of politics in another exciting time, the 1960s. Obama comes across as an old-fashioned, no nonsense politician (assuming such a person has existed).

© Callie Shell / Aurora for Time

Waiting: Obama listens from a back stairwell as he is introduced in Muscatine, Iowa. It was his second or third speech of the day. Unlike many of the politicians I have photographed in the past, I find it is easy to get a photograph of Obama alone. He lets his staff do their jobs and not fuss over him. Nov. 7, 2007.

prime candidates

I just don't know what I'm going to do when this election is over. For weeks now, I haven't been able to turn away. (Who has?) I have withdrawals when I think about the end, so I've made a major, life-changing decision. One that will demand major sacrifices and untold dedication to my country.

I've decided to run for President of the United States as a write-in candidate.

Please, don't thank me. Thank Sarah Palin, who has taken mediocrity to truly astounding heights. The Alaskan anger bear has given me so much inspiration. I just know I'm qualified for the job!

All I needed was a running mate who could give Palin some competition.

pimps up. hoes down.

I was out last night, sitting in a perfectly respectable restaurant in Sugar Land with my friend Anthony, when we started leafing through the latest Houston Press. Before long, I flipped to a page containing this ad (click for big, you should):

I'm appalled. Yet intrigued.

Best condition of attendance: "No bitch slappin' unless the ho be reckless eyeballin' some playa, then you might have to represent."

cheap thrill

http://view.break.com/592648 - Watch more free videos

on a mission

I'm so boring this week. I want to fall asleep just thinking about myself. I've worn a groove into the few places I know around here, but today I checked out a new eating spot. It's the endless pursuit of tasty food that'll keep me learning the city.

Somewhere I'd heard someone say that Mission Burrito was the place she missed the most after having left Houston. Just driving by made me want to eat there, and I didn't remember that I'd heard this until I bit into a chicken taco dressed in a crispy corn shell. Oh, man.

This, um, was it.

I meant to take a bite, then take a picture, but before I knew it I'd chowed the whole thing.

Everything is fresh and made on site by magic hands. Doesn't the guacamole look yummy? See how thick the chips are?

I was there after the lunch crowd, and nearly had the patio to myself. The weather was warm (not hot), the lemonade, made with good old-fashioned lemons, was sweet and cold, the staff was fun and friendly. I'm going back tomorrow.

pda

Aw. These two.

bingo was the game-o

My apologies for the fact that the video from two days ago automatically plays when you visit my blog. I don't know HTML well enough to make it stop, and I don't want to take it down in case it inspires more donations to Jocelyne Voltaire. (Thank you, MJ!) I'll leave it up and it'll stop once the post is pushed off the page.

So, Austin. Good times, good times.

I got back this evening. Houston and Austin are about a 3-hour drive apart. I love road trips, and can drive for long periods without getting bored. Some people might require the beautiful vistas of Utah or the PCH or New England in the fall, but it doesn't take much to keep me interested. Even though it's flat and waterless, I've found the Texas landscape soothing and attractive. True it's not breathtaking, but it has its own kind of beauty.

I'm so happy to be so close to Anne, my mother-in-law. When I go to her place, I never need an agenda; it's like going home. Anne is completely chill. We shop, usually at TJ Maxx and Marshall's, her favorite stores, eat, shoot the shit at home with her roommate. Anne's youngest sister died last year, and Anne has taken in her now 22-year-old daughter, Tiffany. I'm also 22 (ahem), so me and Tiff always have a good time. She burned me some CD mixes to listen to on the drive back to Houston. They include classic R&B, which to Tiffany means R&B from the 1990s. So funny.

I love to go to Austin, let go of the reigns, and occupy Anne's world. I often wind up somewhere I never thought I'd find myself. This time, it was at the bingo hall.

I hadn't played bingo since I was in my early 20s, and then only a few times. I remember doing it out of some kind of obligation, like a community relations thing for a job or something. It was easy and fun, but definitely filled with old and wacky people. I liked it, but when it was done, it was done.

Anne and Tiffany have recently started going to a place near Anne's house. They'd been twice, and invited me for a third trip, on Saturday. They warned me about playing too many cards, and tried to describe all the bingo patterns. I didn't understand what they were talking about, because when I played it was pretty much straight across or down or diagonal. I don't know how long it's been going on, but nowadays the patterns are all fancy. You can go picnic table or layer cake or love letter -- it's pure madness.

My "dauber." I picked money green, thinking it'd help me get lucky. Not so much. (Anne won 70 bucks, using her pink dauber.)

Bingo halls are apparently models of diversity and integration. They're like the Noah's ark of ethnicity. Two of everything. Both the old and wacky contingents are represented, along with a smattering of some of everybody, primarily arriving from the working and lower classes. I can't say how things go when people in the Pentagon or the White House have a project put before them, but I'll bet they can't beat the bingo hall crowd for focus and dedication. While the numbers are being called, you can hear a pin drop. I loved that best. It's almost meditative. I hadn't concentrated that hard since I had to push Schmin through my loins. Anne says bingo is good for the prevention of Alzheimer's. I say it's the cure for ADD.

I managed to play two sheets at once. These women were playing, like, 8, plus multiple bingo computers. Plus doing lottery-style game cards. Serious multi-taskers.

At one point I said to Anne and Tiffany that only booze could've added to the fun. Bingo and drinking go together better than some couples I know. Being new to the hall, Anne and Tiffany weren't sure if drinking was allowed. They hadn't seen anyone with alcohol, so they didn't think so, but on the way out Anne stopped a group of folks (by folks I mean gold teeth, fairly animated, and carrying a mini-cooler -- our cousins) and asked if the hall allows drinking. One of them, a woman who'd hit at the end of the night and was therefore feeling no pain, gave us a look like Y'all don't know what time it is? and said, Oh yeah! We be cocktailin' up in there! The only guy in the group added that they keep it cool, because people expect black folks to get drunk and act a fool. So they casually sip the gin 'n juice out of nice cups. No throwing back forties. I thought them very classy.

And I told Anne that's it. Next time, we gon' be cocktailin' up in there too. I swear I can hardly wait.

running them crazy baldheads outta town

I've always had a problem with Colin Powell because he spent his professional career delivering bombs to people of color. I have never, ever, thought of him as someone who cares about diversity, much less as the one conservative who might come out and stand up for Americans of Islamic faith. I can't say I suddenly like the man, but I do have a greater appreciation for his complexity.

And, more importantly, I'm ecstatic over the ringing endorsement he gave Obama today. Anyone listening has long been hearing that he would endorse Obama, but he did it with such eloquence and conviction (and with such a crippling indictment of the McCain campaign and his own party), that it came straight from the heart I never knew he had.

Does anyone now remember that Palin was on SNL last night?

reaching out

I saw this video earlier in the week on HuffPo. It made me, and a lot of people, cry. I went on to donate money to Jocelyne Voltaire, and I'm happy to know that, according to Code Pink, the organization that stepped up to assist Jocelyne, her house was saved. But, she still needs all the help she can get to keep up her monthly mortgage payments. It would be great if we, her fellow Americans, could keep assisting her while she mourns the loss of her beloved son.

So many stories of people struggling. It's possible to become hardened, but in Jocelyne's case, I can't see how anyone with a pulse wouldn't want to help. The outpouring of love that she's already received from perfect strangers bears me out, and is enough to inspire faith in people.

how's the weather...

in Houston?

I don't know, 'cause I'm in Austin. Yeeee!

at last, someone gets us

I can't live with it. I wanted Korto to win. Having taken another look at Leanne's collection, pretty, but once you've worn one of those wave pieces of hers, you've worn them all.

Bah.

On to better things, Susie Bright, more popularly known for writing naughty naughty sex stuff, writes a great column for Craft Magazine called "Susie's Home Ec." In the current issue, Craft 08, she has a piece called "Stash: Confessions of a Fabric Addict." It's not online, but if you have a chance to pick up Craft and read it, do. It's hilarious, and painfully true. Here's what happened when she and her daughter decided to take a sewing class together:

The two of us took no chances; we bought everything: the fabrics for Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C. My teacher applauded our choices, as did all the other students. It's like being in a bar at 6am with all your friends. Have another one!

Oh, the enabling. The piece is really funny. And to think, if I hadn't moved down here to the land of free parking, I wouldn't be spending so much time leisurely leafing through magazines in Border's, and I wouldn't have come across Susie's column. My life has already improved so much!

Okay, I just heard the best description of Jo-Ann's, ever. One of the contestants on "Top Design" said it. Jo-Ann's is "gold Keds with a stirrup pant a sweatshirt that says 'Grandma loves her grandchildren.'" (How is it, then, that I manage to plunk down what should be my life savings every time I walk in the door?)

the last to know

Had to teach tonight so just watching "Project Runway." Who will win?! Oh my gawd...suspense -- it's killing me!

Have to watch with the sound off. Can't take the drama of words.

Oh, good. Not Kenley. She's a pain in the arse.

Ohhhhh...

Dum dum dum dum...

I'm biting my knuckles!

Leanne?! Oh, okay. I can live with that.

But I so wanted Korto. I'd wear her clothes.

in with the new (sort of)

I have no idea what I was thinking.

Yes I do. I was thinking: Hey, I've done this before. How hard could it be?

I remember the lonely days in NYC, before Steven moved up from Atlanta, before I became friends with Carol and Sandra, before I met my husband, or my boyfriend of five years before him. Looking back on that time, I see it through wine-colored specs. It's a vision that makes me forget how hard those early days were, and how much I didn't love New York off the bat. I had to be reminded of this by Steven the other day. He said to me, Carla, when you first got to New York you called me upset because you saw a piece of meat on the floor at Toys 'R' Us in Herald Square. The first time I visited you, you almost came to blows with a homeless man. You hated New York. Oh, I thought, remembering the meat. (And, excuse me, but, also the hunk of human doo doo I once spied casually loitering next to a building in Times Square. I think it was selling Fendi knockoffs.)

So I wasn't so into The Big Apple at first. Okay then. I was 29 and had finally left home, and I remember the thing that got me through -- instant camaraderie. One reason I was so gung ho to get into film school was because I had to live in New York. It was where I knew I belonged. I also knew it wouldn't be easy, coming from where I'm from. If I was in school, especially film school where the need to team with people is so immediate and intense, I knew I'd have a circle of friends before long. And that's what happened.

My move from New York to LA came packaged with a support system, my soon-to-be husband. I basically followed him out there, and I give him a lot of credit. I was frazzled and needy, and he never buckled, never faltered under the pressure of looking out for me. With his encouragement, I was able to finish my first master's degree, which I'd begun years before. I never found myself alone in LA, because when all hell broke loose in my marriage, I had friends to turn to. And I never really stopped turning to my husband, oddly enough.

I carried these experiences with me to Houston, and they were ripped away the minute I hit town and realized that my fantasy of Natalie staying forever wasn't going to happen, and I was about to be left alone in a place where I know almost no one. Seeing this, everything got blurry. My vision of taking Houston by storm -- hitting the knitting gatherings, organizing my own writing group, chatting up strangers in public -- withered. It was replaced by a kind of vertigo, a dizzying vortex in which I tumbled around, wondering where to find organic tampons and a decent salad. When I dropped Natalie at Hobby airport last Thursday morning, I begged her not to leave me here. I wasn't even half joking. More like a quarter joking, and three-quarters serious as a hurricane. It reminded me of when all my friends, and my boyfriend, left Toledo to return to New York after my mother's funeral. I had to stay; as my mother's only child, I had post-funeral matters to tend to, but I felt wholly abandoned.

My first few days in Houston solo, I longed to walk down to Trader Joe's (still do), or to Robek's for a smoothie. Or to make an appointment to get my eyebrows done with Marina, my sweet, Russian waxing maven in Beverly Hills. We both had sons young, and last year she had another baby boy, ushering in a near 20-year spread between kids. I find this fascinating. She finds it fascinating that I've never wanted another one. We vibe there in the middle of mutual fascination.

At the heart of missing LA was a simple longing for familiarity. It manifested as a desire for places and things that I know, but it carried with it the fear of not being surrounded by people I love. Last week I told Natalie that I was planning to go to knit night at my local yarn store, but that I wasn't looking forward to it because she, Ellen, Darcy, Lori, and Mary Jo wouldn't be there. She said no, there wouldn't be that cast of characters, but a whole new one. All I could think was that really sucked.

You know how it is when you don't need something. You can be easy about getting it, because you can live without it. Were I visiting Houston, I'd belly on up to the knit night bar, have myself a fine ol' time, and head on home. But going with the intent of making friends because I need some? It lacks a certain appeal. Not that I didn't go to Stitch 'N Bitch in LA for this exact purpose, but the need wasn't the same, because I already had a darling bunch of friends. They just didn't knit, and I wanted to bond with people who understood the compulsion that had overtaken me.

It hasn't taken me long to reconcile my feelings about all this. I'll do what needs to be done. But I am noticing that getting older has changed the ground beneath my feet from concrete to sand, mixed with a little bit of quicksand. The relationships I have are golden. I want to continue to cultivate and enjoy those. I've worked hard to trap the people who currently put up with me, and the older I get, the more daunting the work of forging new relationships seems. A couple of days ago it finally hit me that this is one reason people stay put.

Natalie wrote me a beautiful card reminding me to give Houston a fair shot. I will. You can never find your utopia if you keep looking for it outside yourself, and going back to LA or forward to some new place, especially when I know that here is as good as anywhere, would indicate that I haven't learned this lesson. Easy for me to say today, when I've had lunch with another of Natalie's friends, wonderful Charissa, and turned down a chance to spend time with the one person I know here, a college boyfriend turned loyal, protective friend. After nearly 20 years, he's like family, but a girl still doesn't go out with an ex unless she's colored her roots. I'm not that starved for companionship.

you can knit but you can't hide

Thanky, thanky, ma'ams. Yes. I actually went outside and saw people yesterday.

Right now I'm outside again, at Borders, doing job stuff. I figure now that I know where this place is, I have no excuse for not at least coming here, until I find some other place to go. Something good is that I can come here and park up a storm, without counting hours to calculate the parking fee or worrying about getting validated. That kept me home quite a bit in Los Angeles. I often didn't want to deal with parking. Or the other end, when I'd get home and have to circle the block and land in some distant space that required me to move the car at 7 or 8am. Just, ugh. Living will be so much more hassle-free here. I'll probably fall into a coma. Seriously.

Inching toward the crafty, here's a shot of my local yarn shop. It's pretty popular, and less than 15 minutes from where I live. Ambiance? Um, not so much. Yarn riches? Plenty. Come this Friday, I'll be stalking knitters during knit night there.

Here's some bounty I copped there. Good old Cascade 220.

I have to find some good knitting spots, because when I try to knit at home, it's all cat. I get a few stitches done, maybe a row, then I have to stop and wrassle my project loose from clinching feline jaws.

west meets east

I kinda sounded like an ass about the South last post. Since my family is southern (they left Arkansas but Arkansas never left them), I'm pretty 'bama myself, and I feel entitled to call surly when I see it. Twenty years ago if I'd been plunked down in the middle of a Target sales floor and allowed to yuk, yak, and snack, I would've been all over it. And I would've been none too quick about doing my actual work.

Anyways. I've topped my trips to Ross and Target with today's Big Accomplishment. I went in search of knitters, at a place called Te House of Tea. I saw on Ravelry that they have a Sunday gathering there, so I headed over when I realized that between my working online, the cost of gas, and my hermity ways, I could never go outside again. Time for a pointed effort to get out and meet folks.

Alas, today wasn't the day to meet fellow Houston knitters. I breathlessly rushed inside Te, looked right and left, ahead and behind, up and down, and saw nary a single one. I decided to hang out a while, check out the clientele.

The ladies were engaging in a mean game of mahjong. I started knitting, and after they packed up the one with her back to the camera (with the long braid) asked me what I was making. I showed her my pattern. (I won't show you guys because I think I've already changed my mind.) She said she knits some, but mostly crochets. She's currently knitting socks, though, and said she'll bring them next week to show me. She was really nice, and quite colorful.

Maybe next Sunday I'll get in on the mahjong.

And have more of this delicious spinach and feta quiche.

night rider

Now that I've announced that the mundane is in town, I shall on with it.

Notes on a Scandal is on HBO. It might be the last great film I saw in a movie theater. Sooo good. Judy Dench and Cate Blanchett are outstanding. You want suspense? A taut story? Acting so masterful that it's a study in craft? This movie brings it. I could watch it repeatedly, and that's not something I can say about many films. The only downside is that you realize roles this good don't come along for women nearly often enough. What a shame it is.

Today's Big Accomplishment was a night drive to Tar-zhay and Ross. Hmm. Things are different around here. That's for sure. In the kitty cat aisle at Target I had a ten-minute conversation with a woman who asked my thoughts on litter box training a feral kitten. There we were, casually chatting about cats like neighbors over a fence. In LA? With a stranger? Ne-VER.

I have to keep in mind that Texas is southern in its own right. Southern. Read: laid back. Read: nonchalant. Read: relaxed about things that are held down a little more tightly up in de nor'. And over in de eas' 'n wes'. I mean, I'm strolling through Target, which is about an 8-minute drive from where I live (hotness), looking for a squirt bottle so I can discipline you know who, when I see a Target employee, a girl clearly marked as such by her red shirt emblazoned with a Target logo, khaki slacks, and name tag, strolling from the cash register area toward the beauty products sucking on a pop and talking on a cell phone. Mind you, I'd already noticed a cluster of Target team members shootin' the breeze near the customer service area when I walked in. They were carrying on like it was break time at the lockers, right before the bell rings. After I saw the girl, mere minutes went by before another employee sauntered past me, loudly handling some personal business on his cell phone.

This, after Natalie noticed on-the-clock workers munching on the salad bar at Central Market the other day.

We of the gentrified manners aren't accustomed to such sights.

284/365

On January 1st, I challenged myself to blog every day of 2008.

I read about Blog365, but didn't sign up for it, figuring I'd keep my commitment mostly to myself. The idea of a year's worth of daily blogging appealed to me for one main reason: perfect attendance. I never had perfect attendance in school, and I always envied the one or two kids who were honored for it at the end of each school year. I secretly believed they had perfect parents, orderly out-of-school lives. I held perfect attendance in higher esteem than I did perfect academic records, which didn't seem so far out of reach.

Daily blogging is my way of reaching for the gold star at the end of 2008. It's already October; I'm almost there.

The perfect attendance students weren't always the academic stars. Sometimes they were just average kids, so average that you'd barely notice they were there every day. I see my posts the same way: sometimes they don't shine, but they're here. Not all of them can be scholars, or win the role of teacher's pet. When you're blogging every day, whatever your reasons, sometimes you post a few from the back of the room.

This transition is hard in ways I never imagined it would be. I don't have words to talk about it, so I haven't. I'm not making anything these days. Not following your blogs like I love to do. I'm trying to find home in a strange place. Trying to make a place for my son, who needs me to mother him more than he has in a long time. Trying not to cry when I realize I can't pop over to Natalie's to watch Tivoed Oprah, or just to hang around with my friend. I've made the choices I've made for good reasons, but it's like the poet said, there's a staying in my going and a going in my staying and all that.

I'll get back to the good stuff. And I'll post it right up here on the blackboard, to share with the whole class. (I've already visited one knitting shop. I bought the same yarn Natalie bought, in the same color, to knit the same project -- love you lots, Natalie.)

In the meantime, there will be a cat, and other mundane things that in posting, I am declaring myself present.

the real me(ow)

I'm not bad. I'm just misunderstood. I walked on the keyboard until the camera came on, because I wanted everyone to see how sweet I really am.

And do I look like I'm attacking anyone's head? Nooo! I have softly perched myself behind Carlita's and am about to go to sleep.

I wish you all goodnight and happy dreams. Purr purr purr.

bad putty tat

Everybody loves Miss Mira! I do too.

Her new nicknames? The Monster. The Beast. My Little Demon. This adorable, sweet looking little cat Tears Shit Up.

She's hyper like she's on crack. If there's nothing to fight she'll fight her own tail. She doesn't go in for snuggling and smooching, but she's a huge fan of clawing necks and trying to bite off noses. Poor Natalie has been awesome to Mira, and in return, in the wee hours of the morning, Mira has tried to nurse on her head and ears, and when she couldn't coax out any milk, she commenced to rabbit kicking Natalie's head off. One morning this went on for two hours. That day we decided nighttime would find Mira locked in her carrier so that Natalie's head could be safe for sleep. The funny thing is that when we put her in, she whined for about a minute, then fell asleep. It's been that way for three nights, only tonight she didn't whimper, and fell right to sleep. She's like a little kid. She wears herself out but won't sleep unless we put her to bed.

At my new temporary digs (oh well), I had to pay a 200 dollar pet deposit. Mira has already ripped a hole in the vinyl 0000000-p (<--- Mira's handiwork) lounge chair. I see my 200 dollars slip sliding away.

But she IS cute. Right now Schmin, who will be joining me in Houston as soon as we can get everything together, can't look after her but wants to keep her. So here she is with me. She's an asshole, but love bears all things.

along for the ride

As of late Sunday night, technically Monday morning, I live in Houston, Texas. Whoo-hoo (I think). Natalie helped me get here. And look who came along for the ride.

mama v

I will say this about my sister V, who means the world to me. She has no children, but knows how and when to mother like no one else I know. With a firm hand, a kind heart, and an open spirit, she has helped me grow into my life, in just the nick of time.

cowgirl up

Props that inspired shenanigans: Darcy (Sugarlips). Egging on and video: V.

I would like to thank both you fine lil' fillies for bringing out the Texan in me.

ellen bloom in five words

fun
creative
funny
boss
generous

Ellen Bloom, I will dearly miss you. You are nearly impossible to describe in just five words, and there are not enough synonyms for "wonderful" to suit you.

closely

If you look closely, you'll see friends abound, including Sabrina the shutterbug herself.

friends indeed

I want to pay homage to my friends here. Just a few words about each of them, maybe an image or two. They're the best thing I'll take away from Los Angeles, and they've made my life wonderful and colorful and full.

A bit more on Carol: We met as grad students at Columbia; now our friendship has gone coast to coast. Carol is sweet, when she wants to be, and has a spicy Jamaican temper, which thankfully I've only been on the receiving end of once or twice. She's the hardest working person I know. (Remember the "Hey Mon" skit on "In Living Color"? That's Carol.) If she says she'll be someplace, she will. Early. She's generous, even passing along info on writing contests that she's planning to enter so that I can enter too. She loves to try new things, and dreams of being a surfer someday. She's never once judged me, and has provided a safe place for me to fall when I've needed one. Carol is that friend who will march over to your place if your voice doesn't sound right on the phone, ask what the hell you're doing with the blinds drawn on a sunny day, pick up after you, and pick you up too.

let's get back to the happy

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Let's get back to the happy. (And thank you guys for helping me get there.)

My friend Sabrina, who doesn't have a blog but really, really should because she's a kick ass photographer whose work I need to oogle on a regular basis, took breathtaking pictures at my fare thee well. I mean, it was like having a personal paparazzo. The only problem is that she was so busy doing her thing that we didn't get a picture together.

She's given me permission to post some shots here, but my eyelids are lead tonight. I'll post more as soon as time permits, but tonight I want to offer Sarina's shot of me and my friend Carol, because this week I was reminded of how precious she is to me. 13 years of friendship, and I'm hoping for 1300 more.