I’ve posted two kitty stories, well three if you include the poem about Sparkles, on this blog. Remembering Tripod is the foundational one relevant to our between homes experience, the Colorado one ties in with the parallel lives of street kitties and throw-away humans, and then there’s the one about Sparkles* who flashed life, hope and love unexpectedly into our lives, however briefly.
Here is yet another Kitty Story…
Mama Cat has been around the block a time or two. Street savvy, she maintains her independence. And she likes it that way.
When she comes calling, it is usually out of desperation – wild-eyed, panting, scraggly and needing nourishment.
I am in complete compliance with our tacit agreement. Who can refuse an independent spirit reaching out for help? Continue reading
Category: Laura’s Sumatra (Page 12 of 16)
my mixed bag of ideas, reflections, happenings, commentary
The Lady of Arles
Echoes of Edith
Chanteuse of a certain age.
Je ne regrette rien
Forty years from Barcelona
Playing her life in Arles.
No regrets. No regrets at all.
note: my sister-friend Susan and her husband are playing gypsies traipsing throughout Spain and southern France this month. She keeps my e-mail inbox filled with wordy treats describing eats and events of their day, including occasional photos that wow my (he)artistically starved eyes. This photo is posted here with her permission.
Anticipation:
Around this time last year, I noticed the odometer on our 2003 Toyota Camry read a little over 290,000 miles. And I remember thinking, “Wow, almost 300,000!” Okay, that’s an obvious, yet normal reaction. Along with it came a heightened sense of wonder each time the car was driven. Would today be the day it’d get to 300,000?
We do a lot of driving. We figured it’d get to 300,000 in no time. Feelings of tingly anticipation for the imminent occurrence of the momentous event were close to the surface of our emotions. And yet, those 10,000 miles seem to have taken longer to accrue than ever.
Son-in-law David mixing up a mini-margarita for his mother-in-law (me) during our visit to Nashville (Summer 2014). Impressive.
Kicking around town with Michelle during our visit to Nashville (Summer 2014)
Even after our trips to Atlanta, Nashville, and crosscountry to our roots in Colorado and back, that odometer just didn’t seem to budge. Soon, we left our vigil, but not our curiosity of when it would occur.
Bro, Dad and me during our visit home to Colorado (Fall 2014)
Everyday mileage:
While driving back and forth to work, daily errands and events, along with weekly commutes to exits 131 (Wounded Warriors horse therapy) and 98 (Camden Writers critique group), the miles just kind of tagged along and tallied up slowly but surely.
Me, my cousin Dennis and Wizard Mickey (October 2014)
Thrown in for good measure was a trip to Orlando, Florida with cousins Chris and Dennis which added some mileage as well. Oops, they drove, so those miles don’t count.
Terry and Michelle at Lynches River/Swamp (October 2014)
Visits from the kiddos meant excursions to the Lynches River/Swamp, Pawley’s Island and even a trek to the stables.
Joe visiting the stables with me and Belle (November 2014)
Darn, but that odometer stubbornly hovered slightly above the 295,000 mark. Not much closer to the big 300K.
Startled into alertness:
It wasn’t until I drove to Camden one fine morning in April for Brenda’s celebratory luncheon that I happened to glance at the odometer. It’s 298plusK didn’t quite register, until my math-mind insisted upon doing the numerical calculation. Something clicked – we were a mere 1500 miles from the elusive 300,000 milestone. Again with the “Wow, almost 300,000.” Note the fact that there is no exclamation point. Aside from the fact that the Camden writers routinely point out they should be used sparingly if at all, it also reflects the fact that I was more keenly aware the big event wasn’t as imminent as it looked numerically.
“Almost” is still not enough:
Shortly thereafter, the car ‘got a new pair of shoes’ as hubby says. Woefully in need of new tires, we splurged and got a great deal on a set of Michelin’s complete with a 90,000 mile warranty. This baby was gonna get closer to 400K in no time…Ahem. Let’s just get to 300K, ‘k?
Anxious to break in those ‘new shoes,’ hubby got out the map and plotted a spontaneous day trip to St. Augustine, Florida.
Lighthouse St. Augustine, Florida (May 2015)
We thought for sure that adventure would tip us over the 300K mark. It did not. The following weekend was Mother’s Day. I wore my new top purchased at a little boutique in the historic district of St. Augustine. Surrounded by cards, gifts, phone calls of love and a doting husband, my day was made even more special by the prospect of the turning of that darn odometer.
I am loved…Mother’s Day 2015
Today’s the day:
Well, we almost blew it. Last night after filling up the car with the old guzzleline (gasoline) master mind hubby looked down on the odometer. “What are you planning on doing tomorrow? There’s only 34 miles left to go.”
Nursing this puppy to greet 300K with both of us in attendance was top priority so I stayed home doing this blog post along with music related items on my Swimming with Swans project.
Before…
After work, Terry picked me up and away we went to countdown the final 8 miles left after a day of frugal driving.
…After
Terry and our 2003 Toyota Camry, where it reached 300K
Happiness is… journeying together for another 300K
Thanks to Jayne, a member of the Camden Writers Group, this wonderful admonishment has been resurrected from the deep recesses of my mind.
Last week’s critique group meeting was spent reviewing several submissions, one of which was entitled, Seas the Day. An experimental piece, Jayne stretched her writers’ wings, exploring the use of ‘flashback’ in the telling of a recent event in her life.
What’s fun to note is her punny use of the phrase Seize the Day. I learned that it’s a beach-y quote, commonly quipped among those of the Carolina Coastal Community. Never heard it before, but I’m always up for a good entendre, double or not.
Jayne is always blogging about her writers group and how much she loves us all. Or in her words, “That is to say, I love learning and growing, and the members of the group continue to help me do just that.”
I’m with ya, Jayne. Continue reading
Okay. So I’m laid up a bit from a pesky back muscle spasm. In my mature wisdom, I know it is nothing as incapacitating as what many of my favorite Wounded Warriors have had to endure in a life less than half the length of my own. But, when one is on a roll with a project that has been working its way to the top of the slush pile of my creative mind, the intrusion of this mini-disability is an aggravation.
In keeping with a term I earned back during my horse rescue days, I choose to ‘Cowgirl Up.’
Yep, being (he)artistic and horsey walk hand in hand in this lady’s life.
I confess to times of grumpiness, but mostly I’ve been reading lots, listening lots and vegging lots. Never one to run from the creative crock pot of silence, the waiting is invigorating, but the physical stillness is my undoing!
Here then is a sampling of stuff I love, especially when I can’t position myself on my own practice stool and work on my own music. Enjoy! Continue reading
One day, years ago, Amy-next-door came to call. She often came to visit with her two little girls in tow to play with my youngest two kiddos as they were all around the same age. This time, she stood holding two paper grocery bags.
“Look what I found!” Amy said as she thrust the two bags into my arms.
Feeling light as a feather for all their fullness, I immediately knew they were filled to the brim with fabrics.
“I found these at a garage sale for $0.75 and I thought you might like to use them.”
More than just neighbors, Amy-next-door and I were enablers…always on the look-out for each other’s vices: she and her buttons, I and my fabrics.
As I began rummaging through the brown paper bags, I noticed they contained more than just scraps or random cuts of material. There was a huge piece of white cotton flannel, a stack of pre-cut 10 ½ x 10 ½ flannel squares, a handful of 3 ½ x 3 ½ ones and miles of uncut flannel fabrics of varying designs and colors.
This was someone’s UFO (quiltspeak for ‘UnFinished Object’). Continue reading
Holiday prep has been fun. Just the fact of being able to search out Christmas gifts for loved ones is a blessing not taken lightly. Ever frugal, this quest has held plenty of intrigue, mystery and excitement. Except for that, though, one would never suspect we were getting ready for the holidays with mucho-gusto. Continue reading
Note: Yes, I do have a connection to each of these recently published indie books. In the spirit of artistic solidarity, I present this modest list of suggested titles. Representative of 3 different genres, content as well as individual style varies greatly among them. Let’s take a look. (click on book cover photo for more details)
- The Genesis Resolution by T.D. Freiberg
- The Quaker Café by Brenda Bevan Remmes
- Serving Up Memory: Stories, Poetry & Recipes by the Camden Writers Continue reading
Observe the fine crumb of this loaf. The inviting chew of its crust. Such a gorgeously perfect specimen of my ‘true sourdough’ … or is it?
All is not as it seems … my ‘true sourdough’ bread
The aroma emitted during its time of baking signal salivary glands to sweat in anticipation of a heavenly tasting loaf … or is it?
Finally ready for slicing, the crunch of the knife sounds divine. The slithering of slathered butter slides into warm nooks and crannies of perfectly baked bread … or is it?
Raising the staff-of-life slice to consume, first bite is a bit salty.
Could it be a ‘salt pocket’ … some vestige of incomplete integration of all dry ingredients before adding to wet ingredients? Continue reading
One of the fun things about doing NaNoWriMo (besides being a month devoted to writing and a great excuse to down gallons of coffee) is all the geeky stuff that’s available for use during the event. There are word count widgets (yep, got that!), banners and badge buttons (done those, too) to install on one’s website/blog. On-site, there’s even push-button access to upload images for use as one’s novel cover (pretty cool, but haven’t done that yet; maybe this year) … just to name a few techie toys.
Then there’s the personalization of one’s NaNo presence. Along with the usual profile set up, there are numerous ways one can do this. Over these three years of participating in this creative endeavor, I’ve pretty much kept my moniker (desertmountain) and gravatar (a photo of me and Leggy Lady on the compound, sized-down real teeny tiny) the same. Mostly just to maintain a sense of continuity within and between each year’s NaNoWriMo.
However, each year’s signature quote has been different.
Interestingly, they reveal something about that year’s novel/project while not specifically chosen as such…a sort of foreshadowing of whatever wanted to be written/worked on during that year’s NaNo.
For NaNo 2012 I pulled a favorite quote from a snippet of Carl Sandburg’s poem, Lesson. 
“Come clean with a child heart. Laugh as peaches in the summer wind. Let rain on a house roof be a song. Let the writing on your face be a smell of apple orchards in late June.” – Carl Sandburg
Little did I realize my novel for that premier year would revolve around the lessons and seasons of life within The Peach Orchard Project or My Life as a Peach.
My second NaNoWriMo, I found a quote revealing the effectiveness of fiction as a form of literary social commentary from a favorite author.
“A book, too, can be a star, ‘explosive material, capable of stirring up fresh life endlessly,’ a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.” – Madeleine L’Engle
I plunged deep into the realm of my characters. They cried out for justice in an unjust world while I grieved the passing of the ugliest and hardest of my street people characters who died a hero, defending The Woman Who Didn’t Belong.
This year’s signature quote jumped out at me while reading, When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams. It gives me hope that the creation of (he)art as truth is an important endeavor; one which compels me to soldier-on in doing.
“To withhold words is power. But to share our words with others openly and honestly is also power.” – Terry Tempest Williams
Me & Leggy Lady on the compound ~November 2010
Honesty is an undeniable foil, it flashes whether bidden or not. In order to be true to myself, I have to speak. I must share my words, my music, my (he)art, my Musical Non-Fiction, regardless of whether or not it is seen, heard or read.