Wildest Gift: 525,600 Minutes

If all goes as planned, come tomorrow evening at approximately 6:30 pm, I will have been granted another 525,600 minutes of this wild gift (wild card?) called my life. Multiply that sum by 55 and that'll be the total gift so far. I'm pushin' 29 million minutes. And a dizzying, unpredictable jumble of color it's been! Tomorrow also marks my first blogaversary. In blog years, I'm merely pushing 526,000. A baby.

Last birthday I gave myself this blog. This year I've given myself a playlist. It's way down at the bottom of this post. Warning: it's LONG. It's a jumble. The transitions are jarring. If you're not familiar with how to listen to a playlist, you just click the big arrow like you do on a you-tube video. This will turn the jukebox on. Then you can click on any selection to listen to it. You scroll down on the bar to the right to see what the selections are.(BREAKING NEWS: I've squashed in the edges of the playlist gizmo, so that everybody--I hope--can work the scrollbar.)

I have a few dedications for my blogging friends:

Seasons of Love, from the muscial Rent, is for everyone who said goodbye to dear ones this past year. I know there are many who did, but I am thinking in particular of Doris (River Poet), Patty, and Mima. I also dedicate this song to the memory of John Smeltzer.

Joan Osborne's Spider Web is for all of the visual artists who visit this blog, including but not limited to Chewy, Paula (self-taught artist), Paula (second studio), Kim (creating space), Kim (stillmeadow quilts), Babs, Lynette, Celine (of the stunning travelogues), Daphne, Debi aka emma tree, Daryl, Andrea in Canada, Andrea in Paris, Bridget who contemplates the moon, Lori (Witzel and Skoog), Corrine (that jafabrit), Heather, Kate (of the corner by that name), Kate (who smudges), David Mc, Todd, Suki, the Blue Sky Dreamer, Tammie, and Randy. No doubt I am forgetting so many. That's the hazard of pushin' 29 million--the memory starts to slip a bit. And while I'm at it, I want to send this one out--I always wanted to say that--"I want to send this one out"--to Paschal, who gets "it."

Another Joan Osborne song, One of Us, is for Sometimes Saintly Nick. That one also goes out to his spiritual cousin Carol, along with Cat Stevens' Peace Train and the Temptations' Wake up Everybody. I might as well add that I prefer Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes' rendition of Wake up Everybody, but I couldn't find that version. While I'm on the social consciousness theme, let me dedicate Everyday People to Sandy Carlson because she lives her life with humility and concern for others.

Many bloggers find themselves in periods of transition and questioning. Truth be told, every one of us finds ourselves in such periods. Often. A few bloggers, however, have chosen to share their adventures in uncertainy with the rest of us. Theirs is a rich gift to this community and I dedicate Alanis Morisette's Hand in my Pocket to those bloggers, including: Lee, Lime, Raven, John-Michael, J.S., Paula (self-taught artist), Spark, Doris (River Poet), Mima, Aims, and Whim.

Some of us find ourselves challenged by our own bodies. And several bloggers have chosen to take their physical limitations and transform them into miracles of inspiration. There are many, but the people whose names are coming to my mind now are Meg Wolff, Whim, Sandi, Jane, and Mima. Natalie Merchant's Wonder is dedicated to them.

Everyone gets their heart broken sometimes. You only have to listen to the radio to know this. So many of the best songs are about lost love. There's a boat load of lost love numbers on this playlist. They're for everybody because there's nothing quite like wallowing in misery, listening to Patsy Cline or Johnny Cash or Wall of Voodoo sing their hearts out about the cruelty of love, to make a person cry. And we all need a good cry sometimes. (It's my party and I'll cry if I want to.) At other times, we just need to get mad as hell. Whatever works. The following songs are dedicated to the human race: Ray Charles' Hit the Road Jack, Aretha Franklin's Respect, Blues Traveler's Runaround, Peter Sarstedt's Where Do You Go To My Lovely (for the romantic in all of us), Cake's I Will Survive (an absolutely kickass cover of the Gloria Gaynor disco hit), Scar Tissue by Red Hot Chili Peppers, Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire, Wall of Voodoo's kickass cover of the same, and Patsy Cline's Crazy. So much love lost. So few tracks on the playlist.

Then, we move on down the playlist of life and have our lucky times in love. These must be fewer and far between, given the scarcity of songs about the lucky times. Or at least good songs. There are a few. I'm sending The Proclaimers' 500 Miles out to Jo, because Jo is finding her luck in love with the kind of man who will not only walk 500 miles to get to her heart, he helps her tear out her plumbing and invites her to hunting camp. 500 Miles is dedicated to everyone who is in a happy relationship. A few other names that spring to mind are Maggie May, J.S., Indi, Jeff, David, Bruno, Daryl, Jeanne, Todd, Sandi, Ellie, and Cath. Come to think of it, there are many more. More than the number of songs would suggest.

For Moody, my friend in The Land of the Rising Sun, I dedicate The Vapors' I Think I'm Turning Japanese and Sakamoto Kyu's Sukiyaki. Why? Because I'm the birthday girl and I can do anything I want!

Maybe I'll be wistful. One of the most wistful songs I have ever heard is Israel Kamakawiwoole's version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Thank you, John-Michael, for identifying this singer for me! I had wanted to play it on my blog when Flannery graduated from college. That didn't happen, so belatedly I dedicate this song to my Flan. It's also for Rubye Jean of the blog by the same name, and her lovely daughter Anna. And speaking of Anna, there's another Anna (in the UK) who has a baby and an Angel (in Canada) who's expecting one. Somewhere Over the Rainbow is for these mothers as well as Lime (Michelle), Kim (both of them),Babs, Lynette, Shrinky, Rhea, Jennifer H., Heather, J.S., and Sandy Carlson. We are all hoping our own children will live bigger, more joyous lives than our own. Not that our own lives aren't joyous mind you. It's just that we as mothers want things to go even better for our kids. Flan, I'm counting on you to find your spot over the rainbow, the spot where your heart, mind, and soul meet.

(While we're at it, let's send The Chi-Lites' Oooh Child out to all parents, including those of us who are nurturing our inner child, the little kid in us who wants to color outside of the lines. Lee, I'm talking to you!)

To my other kid, the infamous Mister Mokes, I dedicate two versions of The Rainbow Connection. Kermit the Frog's and Me First and the Gimme Gimmes'. Oaks, I'm counting on you to find that rainbow connection, you of the prodigious way with words, you of the truth-seeking heart.

Kermit the Frog's song goes out as well to Bob T. Bear and to Alex the Blogging Cat.

Linus and Lucy is for Meanie the Baby Dragon aka Chuck and his dragon cousin across the ocean Dilly.

For Bennie, the love of my life, I offer a wild jumble:

1. X's Breathless (I guess that's as close to a 'Listen, they're playing our song' as we have). I thank you for sharing the last 13 million minutes with me. It's been breathless!
2. Rock the Casbah & Private Idaho. Because they too are representative of our courtship era.
3. San Francisco, as covered by Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. Truth be told, I find this band a little pale in comparison to their Eighties predecessors (after all, they only do covers), but it seems appropriate to acknowledge the fact that I met you in The City by the Bay and the Scott MacKenzie song just falls short. I mean, name one time you saw a single person walking down Sutter Street with actual flowers in their hair.
   
4. Speaking of covers, speaking of San Francisco, nothin' says lovin' like a Mel Torme cover of the Turtles' Happy Together. I will never forget the night you took me to see Mel at the Fairmont. We were struggling young art dealers. Even so, you insisted we have a glamorous evening in the Venetian Room.
5. The Proclaimers' 500 Miles. You've walked that far. And more. With me and for me. And you've run that far. You are a distance runner on all the levels.
   
6. Booker T. & the MGs' Hip Hug Her. Because.
   
7. Mulatu Asttatke's Yegelle Tezeta and two selections from Satyajit Ray. Because those names are as challenging to pronounce as our love has been unpredictable. Both, however, once mastered, flow beautifully.
   
8. Tom Waits' Rain Dogs. For many years, I associated Tom Waits' voice with morning sickness. Remember? We were playing him in the gallery during my first pregnancy. 11 million minutes later, Tom Waits' voice has assumed a silken quality in my ear. I associate Tom Waits' voice with the wildest, most sublime gifts you ever gave me--our children.
   

And now it's time for me to blow out my candles while Frank Sinatra sings Happy Birthday. Everybody, make a wish. Get on your mark. Get set. BLOW!

Belongings and Belonging

Last week we loaded the Tacoma and drove Oaks down to UNM for the ritual unpacking of the socks and stereo gear. We helped him set up housekeeping in Hokona Hall on a co-ed floor. Unpacking a person's belongings provides a clue or two about that person. And my son is no exception. His belongings speak, if not volumes, at least a few notes hastily scribbled in a note pad:

Oakley is a person of character who reveres his ancestors. The first objet d'art he found an honored place for (atop one of the stereo speakers) was my dad's Roll Tide elephant keychain.

That takes a little character--to set up a University of Alabama mascot in University of New Mexico Lobos country. I was touched. I could feel Pa-pa smiling down.

My son appreciates the playful...

...and the less so.

Don't ask. All I know is the black comforter and sheets I purchased at Linens 'n' Things coordinate rather nicely.

Oakley's taste in clothing is diverse...

...as is his taste in books.

And the first book cracked by my son this semester was the menu at the Route 66 Diner.

As you can see, it's one of those provocative books that leads to questioning: Shall I have the Fender Bender or the Pile-Up? Root beer or malt? Fried okra and french fries or coleslaw and mac and cheese and potato salad on the side of my chicken chimichanga? And on that chimichanga--red or green? Room for dessert? (Puh-Leeze. That's a no-brainer. Do I look like I'm observing Lent months in advance?)

Route 66 is a retro comfort food place where the excess of the portions is outshone only by the expanse of the Pez dispenser collection.

(Chewy, this photo's for you.)

Flanny joined us for dinner and afterwards we took an after-hours tour of her workplace, the Mind Research Network.

(This dazzling photograph was downloaded from the website of the MRN.) The building looks like a giant sculpture set under the turquoise New Mexico sky.

When we entered the vestibule, we were greeted by a Japanese rock garden. This split rock...

...continues on the other side of the glass, as does the garden. A subtle reminder that this is a place where breakthrough research occurs. And it occurs in a tranquil setting. Overlooking the raked sand and the flowing arrangement of rocks is a minimalist painting in shades of blue. The effect is calming.

Inside the lobby is the graceful curve of a contemporary stone sculpture....


...and a vibrant large-format abstract painting.

The forms in the painting echo the roundness of the sculpture and the rock garden. Even the night janitor's barrel echoes the roundness.

Flanny's office is upstairs.

Isn't this a great space in which to discover new frontiers in the human mind?
Isn't this a great space in which to conduct biomedical research?


Flannery, engaged in biomedical research.

And speaking of the biomedical, I've read that a sense of belonging, a feeling that one has a place in a family or in a community or in a social network, an awareness that one fits in somewhere, is an actual physical nutrient. This belongingness nutrient helps our bodies negotiate treaties with those hormones that trick us into feeling combative when we are really just feeling fragmented and overworked and stressed. When we belong to others, we're soothed. If that's the truth, that means that on this particular evening I got my fix. I loaded up on...

fried okra

green chile

and belongingness.

In my book that's a feast.

Dreaming Hill

"Dreaming Hill," acrylic on canvas, 48" x 48"
private collection, Rock Springs, Wyoming

...We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

--from Shakespeare's The Tempest

The knowledge of contemporary quantum physics was presaged by Shakespeare. Illusion is the constant. Our "little life" in waking reality is just a variation of our dreaming life. The only way to discover anything is to keep observing/keep dreaming. Just know that your very act of observation changes the reality of what you are observing.

After we shipped Jo "River of Now," she and I were emailing. I told her I had a few days in the studio and was working on a small painting and a large painting. "I would love to see what you're working on," she said. I took this as friendly curiosity. After all, Jo had invested in one of my paintings and it's always fun to see what an artist whose work you've collected is up to.

So I sent her images of the two paintings when they were complete. "I envy the people who buy these," she said. "I love 'Hill of Memories.' I can't get it out of my mind.'" I smiled when I read this. The painting was called "Dreaming Hill" and was informed by the dream I had had of Jo and her sisters, also by the conversations Jo and I had been having through email. There were little bits of glowing light set on pedestal shapes, little eggy shapes with spirals etched deeply in the painting's surface. When working on this canvas, I began to feel as though I was in a ceremonial cave, a place where dreams are made. The work "underneath"--in the land of dreaming--was changing the curvature of the land above--the land of waking reality.

After a while another email came in from Jo. "I'm sorry. I called 'Dreaming Hill' 'Hill of Memories', but when I saw it, it brought back memories for me. I can't get it out of my mind." Again, Jo and I had connected on a level that is deeper than the waking life. There is no way I was consciously aware of the memories of which Jo was speaking, but somehow the magic that had been created under my little dreaming hill had altered the curvature of the land above. And so began the dialog which led to Jo's second acquisition.

I was so excited by this transaction, I had to prepare a little ceremony, complete with burning sage, to calm myself down. I am always deliriously happy when people choose to purchase my art. But the timing of this transaction was pure magic. The stuff that dreams are made on.

Feel Good Friday: Talk to the Animals!

Elephant Brand, mixed media on canvas

private collection, Iowa City

The maniacal, not-so-borderline nut case Crazy Cath of Crazy Cath's Reflections went on one of her award rampages. Seems she grabbed a slingshot (I mean blingshot), loaded it with first one award, then the other, and proceeded to shoot, willy-nilly, into the vastness of cyberspace. Lucky me, I got caught in the crossfire. This award that looks like an itty bitty TV struck me right in the crown chakra. Yes! Cath has honored me with the Must See Blog Award.

I haven't been the same since. Talk about the big head. Now I have the gift of tongues. I find myself fluent in baby dwagonese, bwogging cat lingo, gween wagonese, and Bob T. Bearalect. I beg of you. Do not envy me. It's a curse to be so talented.

You haven't really plumbed the depths of mental hell until you've began to think in dwagonese. You wook at a bwog and wead evuhwy r and evuhwy l wike a w. Itz scawy. Itz cweepy-cwawly. I am despewate. I am a wag. A wimp, wifewess, dishwag. In a moment of wunacy, I have decided to pass this Must See Bwog Awawd on to my bwogging animal fwiends. Maybe they will begin to talk wike human beings for a change:

THE ENVEWOPE PWEEEEEEESE.

OK. Duh winnuhs of the Must See Bwog Awawds (dwumwoll):

Awex duh Bwoggin' Cat of Alexicon: A Kitty Kat's Life with His Hooman. Spiritual nememis of wetired minister Sometimes Saintly Nick. Goes through all the jokes people send for Nick to put on his bwog Nick's Bytes, cweans 'em up wif his paws, and duh ones dat are too waunchy (wevolving awound duh theme of wawdwobe malfunction), he puts on Nick's othuh bwog, the UCC on the Net.

Bob T Bear, (esq) of Bob T Bear (esq.)'s Diary. A debonair British dude about town. Wooks kickarse in a red Pendleton coat. Filmmaker. Horticulturalist extraordinaire. (His secret's in his fertilizer.) Creative challenger. Statistician of the Daily Serprizity Score. Tabulator of the Gills/Simpsons/Tesco frequency. Lyric poet whose obsession is poo, which rhymes with loo. I told you he has a knack with fertilizer. Nemesis of:

Dilly, of Dilly's Castle, a bootiful gween wagon. Gwaceful. Pwetty in pink. Pwincessy. Pwissy. When Dilly picks up her awawd, I know the first show she will tune into on that pwetty wittle tv (except she calls it a tewwy). Miami CSI.



Dilly fancies wedheaded dudes. And dudes who can dwaw weally well.









And a dwagon who can dwaw weally well is Dilly's soul mate. Dat would be Chuck aka Meanie the Baby Dragon. Chuck dwew Dilly's potwait as a medieval dwagon-wady.

Is Chuck in wuv with Dilly? I hope so! Dwagon wuv is the tweetest. But I digwess. Chuck is getting the Must See Bwog Awawd for his timewy weporting on newsworthy events. Duh Enquiwing papawazzi know where to go for the weally big scoop.

And now you do too.

River of Now

"River of Now," 30" x 40", acrylic on canvas
private collection, Rock Springs, Wyoming

"San, I've decided I want to buy one of your paintings. Do you have anything in purple and green, with a splash of red?" That's what Jo's morning email said. I looked over my shoulder at the easel. There sat my in-progress-as-yet-untitled painting. Purple, green, and a splash of red.

What?

I looked back over my shoulder. Purple, green, and a splash of red.

I somehow felt both reassured and discomforted. Reassured in that a painting fitting Jo's description was probably 90% complete. Discomforted in that I was a bit spooked knowing what Jo knew: a purple and green canvas, with a splash of red, sat on my easel. Many years ago I met a woman who practiced what she called "remote viewing." She was able to focus her mind on a person or a place and actually get fairly accurate details of their surroundings: San is sitting in her family room watching "Two and a Half Men." That kind of trivial but embarrassing detail. But here Jo was actually seeing a painting on my easel and describing the colors with amazing accuracy. A painting I'm birthing isn't quite as trivial as a TV show I'm falling asleep in front of.

"What are you? Psychic?" I emailed back, "Your description seems to be of the painting I'm working on. Now."

Jo, being Jo, passed the credit to me. "Why, no, San, somehow you had the intuition that I was ready to buy a painting and you knew what painting I was ready to buy."

I had no such intuition. Jo had alluded to having one of my paintings "someday." She had expressed her intention to visit our gallery in Santa Fe "within a year" and buy a painting then. I believed her. I had no reason to believe that she was ready NOW to buy a painting.

"Well, Jo, yes, the painting is your colors, but what you're imagining is probably quite different. It may be the wrong size, imagery, etc. It isn't finished."

"Well, San, when you've completed it, please send me a photo."

Over the next several days I worked on the painting. Something told me to paint a swath through part of the purple, to wash over other areas, to let some of the purple run in little rivulets here and there. I began to feel like I was negotiating little rapids on a river, bumping into the occasional rock, working with the current, going with the flow as best I could. I became a bit stressed. What if the painting wasn't what Jo had in mind after all? What if there were bad feelings? What if our friendship hit a rock? Then I had a beautiful dream:

I was standing in our gallery fretting. I looked at the front door and in walked Jo and her sisters Rubye Jean and Ellie. They walked over to one of my paintings hanging on the wall and proceeded gently to remove little glowing areas of light from the painting. Each sister cradled a bit of light in her cupped palms and ever-so-carefully carried the light to me. They held it near my body in the manner of someone cleansing a body with burning sage.

I woke up feeling deeply calm. Soon after that I completed the painting. I had negotiated the rapids and made it to shore. I took the painting out to the deck and propped it up in the afternoon light.

And when I stepped back and looked at the painting, it reminded me of a river. I decided to name it "River of Now." I sent the photo to Jo, along with various close-up views and several details. "This is probably not what you had in mind at all. If not, no problem. Friendship before business."

In an odd way, though, the painting reminded me of Jo. As I've mentioned earlier in this blog, Jo has been there. She has overcome setbacks that would leave most of us knocking our heads against the wall in a padded cell. And she has negotiated those Class 5 rapids on the river of her life brilliantly. She has gone with the flow of life when that made the most sense. And when she has had to paddle against the current, she has done that too. She has arrived at a place in her life that is about NOW, celebrating the richness of all she has now. And she is one rich woman. Not in a material sense (although she's doing rather well in that department) but in the sense of inner riches. I admire her deeply.

That's why when I sent her the photos, I knew deep down that if the painting disappointed her, it would in no way capsize our friendship. But here is her response: "Wow, San! The size, the colors, the EVERYTHING is what I had in my mind."

WOW NOW! HOW did this happen? Beats me. But I'm overjoyed that it happened.

Now that "River of Now" has been delivered to Jo's home under the big Wyoming sky, it seems inevitable it would hang there. Why did I fret? Why did I need for she and her sisters to come to me in a dream and reassure me? I'm nevertheless glad they did. That is one powerful, light-suffused image I can call to mind on darker days. And the knowledge that Jo lives with one of my paintings now is like the sensation of floating on my back on a peaceful river, gazing at the sunlight filtering through the branches of cottonwoods lining the banks. When I look up at the New Mexico sky, I am actually seeing Jo's sky after all. There's a place where the Wyoming sky becomes the Colorado sky and that eventually turns into the New Mexico sky. All I have to do is look up and I am connected to Jo...

...In my mind's eye I see her touring the big western countryside on the back of a motorcycle, celebrating life.

Thank you, Jo! Happy Trails...

Feel Good Friday: Just Plain Fun!

With several calulated clicks of her highly talented fingers, Daryl of Out and About in New York City created this charming award: the Just Plain Fun to Read Award. Isn't that one of the sweetest, most original blog awards you've seen? I am thrilled to report I am one of Daryl's bestowed-upon. And Daryl made it clear the recipients are encouraged to pass this coveted piece of bling right on to other just plain fun bloggers. So here goes:

I pass the Just Plain Fun to Read award to:

Dar of The Back of My Headboard
Celebratory gestural abstracts, haiku, photography, and here is a woman in Massachusetts who looks kickass in cowboy boots.

Kim of Creating Space
Art-in-progress accompanied by generous sharing of process, recommendations of books to kick-start the creative juices, interviews with artists, deer sightings in the back yard. Kim has created a comfort zone in which artists can kick back and sip a cup of tea.

Babs of OFF THE WALL ART
A lifeful blog replete with well-told stories and celebratory art that mesh beautifully.

Mima of Mima's Doings
Adventures of a beautiful, brave spirit.

Lori of The Skoog Farm Journal
An oasis of calm maintained by a talented artist/curator/farmer. Talk about a Renaissance woman.

Akelamalu of Everything and Nothing.
A Pearl of a blogger who takes a little bit of nothing and builds it into everything. A great wordzzler.

Angel of Life Is a Gift from God
Angel's having a baby!

Maggie May of Nuts in May
Well-told tales of domesticity.

Jeanne of Life or Something Like It
A sunshine-suffused blog. A sunshine-suffused blogger.

Sandy Carlson of Writing in Faith
I believe she already has it, but she is so, so much fun to read (and see).

Laura, of From the Couch
Dreams are just plain fun.

Spark of No More Casual Nonchalance
Writes a post every single day of the year, and every single one of them is entertaining.

Lynette of Original Art by L. Clay
She has a way with trees. And the magical spaces between their limbs.

Daphne of Five Foot Under
A self-described "smallish" woman whose spirit is anything but.

Andrea of Colouring Outside the Lines
Fanciful paintings and photo collages which belie their creator's fascination with amputated feet found scattered around Canada. Shudder.

Suki of paint poems and ponderings
Paint, poems, ponderings, and more: acknowledgment of the rightness and importance of creative endeavor.

Karina of A Painter's Kitchen
Honest writing. Questions asked. Kicking up a fuss like a dust devil. Beautiful paintings, pared down to essentials.

Jameil of Jameil, etc: Exercises in Fabulosity
She says she doesn't "do awards." This should piss her off.

Gone Back South
A 40-something woman returned to the place where her roots are. Blossoming there.

A Tidings of Magpies
Blog of a fan of contemporary poetry with a great eye and ear. The occasional blonde joke.

Paula of self-taught artist
Puzzle heads, industrial clocks, wonder horses, and everything in between, including a not-so-infrequent rant about the unfairness of it all. How I love to read others' rants! Life's unfair and it's high time someone acknowledged it.

Paula of Second Street Studio
Honest discussion of process and frustrations by an artist who is disarmingly honest. She's as refreshing as her art.

Heather of Bad Kitty Art Studio
Wild, original paintings with accompanying thoughts.

Meg of Becoming Whole
Everything you always wanted to know about thriving through the macrobiotic lifestyle but were too timid to ask.

Lee of Chrysalis Dreams
Everything you always wanted to know about being on the cusp of change and about to leap into one's beautiful, powerful destiny but were too timid to ask. And speaking of Lee, my beautiful friend Lee has given me this beautiful friendship award. THANK YOU, Lee.
Now, back to the Just Plain Fun to Read Awards:

Influx Transposer
Everything you always wanted to know about being a lesbian in a committed relationship raising children and feeling led to the Episcopal priesthood but were too timid to ask. Great pictures of home haircuts.

Jafabrit Art
Dazzling paintings and mixed-media work. Name it. This woman can do it.

Jo of Celebration of Life
Everything you always wanted to know about becoming a motorcycle mama in one's fifties but were too timid to ask.

Carol for Peace
Beautiful photographs and musings by a lovely woman who has made peace with herself. What's her secret?

Patty of Lost in Solitude
She puts together beautiful video montages that are personal and political, always wrought with love.

Debi of Emma Tree
A blog that is as intriguing and lyrical as its title.

Sandi of Holding Patterns
Everything you always wanted to know about the life of a retired female cop/columnist who's taking time to smell her own roses. BREAKING NEWS: As I was awarding Sandi, she was awarding me this:


Awards that pass in the night. That is just beautiful, Sandi. Thank you! Anyone listed in this post is welcome to take this lovely award, since it's intended for all bloggers who make a difference for me. That means YOU! Even if I forgot to mention you, that means YOU! Also check out the blogger who created this award, Memoirs of a Mommy.

Now, back to the Just Plain Fun to Read Awards:


Michelle of House of Lime
Juggling creativity and motherhood. Doing it with STYLE.

Katie Jane of Kate's Corner
Mixed-media celebrations of being alive. Reminders to be at peace. And speaking of lovely Katie Jane, she recently received this award and then offered it to all who read her blog. Thank you, Katie Jane! I will do the same. Anyone who would like this winsome award may grab it and run. Just comment on your way out.
Now, back to the Just Plain Fun to Read Awards:

Raven of Views from Raven's Nest
Everything you always wanted to know about creating a rich, imagination-informed life while being confined to home but were too timid to ask.

A.Bananna
Gorgeous photos of the Arizona sky and Anna's dazzling offspring.

A Creek Runs Through It
Gorgeous photos of Montana. Ellie and her husband, who take to the wilderness at the drop of a hat, have been on the cover of Natural Geographic. Or something. You don't believe me? Well, have a look.

Rubye Jean of Somewhere over the Rainbow
Sister to Jo and Ellie. Mother to Anna. Awesome family ties and Wizard of Oz collection.

Blue Sky Dreaming
The blog whose very title is Just Plain Fun to Read. And the blog is every bit as beautiful.

Crazy Cath's Reflections
Don't let the title of this blog mislead you. Cath is one not-so-crazed, down-to-earth, determined and honest woman. She exudes warmth.

Whim of The Babblings of a Whimsical Brainpan
Everything you always wanted to know about re-embracing life after personal disaster.

Crumbs from the Corner
Adventures in woolgathering and beyond.

Dilly's Castle
Adventures of a green dragon in the UK. A princessy green dragon with a sense of glamor.

Anna of My Only Photo
Not one but many, many photos. Most recently of Anna's highly photogenic son, two-month old Matthew!!!

Doris of Poetic License
I know. I know. Daryl already gave you the award. So use mine and and hers as bookends. Or put mine on your second blog.

There are others who already have the award I believe, others I'd have bestowed it on--Hilary, Lavinia, Rhea, Jennifer H, to name a few. Anyone whose blog I frequent or who frequents mine, whom I forgot to mention, please snap up the award anyway. You are all treasures!

I didn't name one single guy in this list of award recipients. It's just not a particularly macho image in my opinion. But hey, any guy who covets this award is welcome to make a comment and claim it. Step up to the plate, guys. Don't be afraid to show us your sensitive side. Jeff, Indi, Nick, Paschal, John-Michael, David, Peter, Meanie, Moody, Bob T. Bear, Bruno, all of you. You know who you are. You are Just Plain Fun. And you deserve this award too.

When There's a Will, There's a Wall

"Oh my God! That ees JUST what I have been looking for!" Monique was standing in front of my painting "Spirit of Light." Each languorous syllable rolled from her French tongue, entered my ears, leaped from one little bone to the next, did a little dance on my eardrum, then proceeded directly to my heart, which skipped a beat.

"JUST what I have been looking for." Music to my jaded ears.

Then this: "Oh, I am so peesed off. I may be without a home in thirty days."

My heart returned to its usual, humdrum beat.

"You're being foreclosed?"

"It ees my marriage (she said it in three peesed-off syllables--mare-e-ajh) that is being foreclosed. It ees I who ees foreclosing the son of a beech. I am very peesed off. And I may not get the house."

"Oh, I see. Then you may not have a wall for the painting."

"Of course I will have a wall for the painting. It ees exactly what I have been looking for. There ees always a wall for what one has been looking for. Do you take Visa?"

My painting "Spirit of Light" appeared to have found the proper (broken) home. Monique proceeded to describe to me how she would pay for the painting. She would put down a deposit of 20%. In 45 days I would charge her Visa account the balance. Since she might be in the market for a home, as the "son of a beech" might get hers, she wanted to keep all of her credit card balances as low as possible so as to maximize her credit score. I agreed to this. It made sense. Monique was a distinguished economist after all. And I adored her accent.

I know. I know. This is where I'm supposed to explain how Monique waffled on the offer 45 days later, how she called me and with those persuasive nasalized vowels, cajoled me to refund s'il vous plait her deposit. That's what I would be expecting to read anyway. I already told you. These ears have heard it all. They are jaded ears.

Only thing is that's not what happened. The rest of the story is:

1. I charged the balance on Monique's account 45 days later.
   
2. I shipped Monique "Spirit of Light."
   
3. I shipped the painting to the same address that Monique had had 45 days earlier.
   
4. The son of a beech didn't get her house.
5. There was a wall for the painting.
6. Had the address changed, there would have been a wall for the painting.
   

The moral of the story:

When there's a will, there's a wall. The hard part is recognizing what you've always been looking for. It helps to have your eyes open. Even in the darkest times.