Busy day

 Sunset in Ptld.  It isn’t always pretty, but it’s always pretty early.

     Old ladies may resist activity, but we certainly need it more than ever.  So yesterday was hair styling day. Thank you again ma belle M, for blonding me yet once more; and trimming my bushy black eyebrows that I can’t see but everyone else can; and couldn’t you please find a way to trim the wrinkles?  I never guessed they would be so…wrinkly.  (Plastic surgeons need not apply.)

      We drove the three blocks to Whole Paycheck afterward, and darling Red patiently waited in the car while I shopped especially for Christmas treats, tea candles, and supper.  I found my favorite Sumo oranges and tea lights, but nothing attractive enough to shout “extra Kid Gift,” settling on a chocolate bar.  Supper was the big, expensive boondoggle.  That’s happened before, but I came back in the name of “make it work.”  They offered fewer, drier choices on the Hot Bar, and I made poor choices, “eating  with my eyes” from slim pickings.  Time is a factor, I’m sure:  what’s fresh and tasty at noon is dead on arrival at 5:00 and cremated by reheating at home.  Lesson learned?  We’ll see.  The dream of convenient supper prep lives on.

      C and N came over to play in the evening, so a good time was had by all.  

    

Deflated, but sparkle anyway

 

Fun neighborhood Christmas display.  Especially at night.

   Well, he did ask.  So I described my teaching career in more detail than probably needed for this on-line group.  He responded, “So we have an Adherent-of-Legominism.”  I burst into guffaws.  “I knew there was a reason I liked you!  You just gave meaning to my whole career as an art teacher!”  (To see the joke, you may need to consult Beelzebub’s Tales chapter XXX Art,  p. 455 & others.)

    I must admit I also took it as a compliment, one of three or four I’ve received recently.  I appreciate them.  They boost my spirits.  And they remind me of my taste, like sugar, for flattery.  Vanity, thy name is Sandy!

Silence is golden

 Lunar eclipse, 3-14-25, by IW. My grandson.

     And leave it at that.  No need to talk when you’re talked out.

Will Santa stop here?

 Now, that’s a treehouse!

   No signs of life, so maybe the Man in Red will stop in for a quick break or to drop off my flopped gift of Crispy Chickpeas to the squirrels.  

   He did stop here!  See post January 7.

Everything old is new again

 

     It’s cold here.  It wasn’t there, in April, 2013, so it bears revisiting after shoveling snow three times yesterday.  That’s me and Fran, set on our asses for a climb up to the place of high sacrifice in Petra, and nomad camels parked at the “watering hole” in Wadi Rum.

My neighbor’s light display

    Can’t describe how much I enjoy this display and garden every holiday.  The pic in no way does it justice with its moving pictures and varied colors.  I tease when I say, do they own an LED factory? Because I just can’t guess how such a fabulous show is assembled.  Thank you!

Good night, sweet prince(s)

A, as sweet as in infancy

    Nothing much to say. Sleepytime is coming on.  Spoke to his dad on phone so we two also said hello tonight, too.  I guess I’m still amazed at how a special needs person can hold onto your heart so tightly for a lifetime. Good night, sweet dreams to all the boys.

Righteous Dickens?

In AZ museum

     I have two things to recommend.  First the HBO(?) series “Righteous Gemstones,” now completed so you can binge watch the whole five year story arc.  It presents a hilarious arch satire of modern religion.  Some people don’t like it, of course, not because they are offended or religious, others who are religious and offended.  I can hear in my head my deceased friend, NS, saying, “Heck with’em if they can’t take a joke.”

   Secondly, an aging movie, “The Man Who Invented Christmas,” is moving and seasonal these days.  It shows Charles Dickens’ struggle to write “A Christmas Carol.”  I have always loved Dickens and this special story of redemption. 

     Yesterday at the bookstore I bought a new facsimile copy in order, I expect, to read at the spiritualist church class meeting tonight, at least, that is, “Stave One, Marley’s Ghost.”  Christmas ghosts seem more than a bit appropriate to me for my spiritualist friends.  Hope they agree, or we will just have to fall into a walking meditation!

     This is irrelevant, but it just occurred to me: Dickens is slang for the devil, i’nit?

DJ or SC? Bless the givers

DJ consistently makes bird seed cakes

   No wonder we love our brother so dearly.  This is just one example of how he cares for his “tribe,” which includes birds, squirrels, and deer.  I was complaining about the nasty cold and dark of this time during our weekly phone conversation a few days ago.  

   “I really wonder how deer and birds and wild critters survive winter.  I look for their possible hidey-holes on our neighborhood walks, but I don’t see much.” 

    “They tuck into trees or bushes, then they come out to eat when they are hungry.” 

    “But it’s SO cold.”  

    “That’s why we feed them.”

  

     Good quality food, stuff they like… peanut butter, raspberries.  I’ve watched.   Is he a Santa?

Dreadnought. And Love

  

M and R

   Such a great word…dreadnought, succinctly loaded either with the best advice, or descriptive of unwavering character. Could it more accurately apply to personality or essence?  That bears pondering, especially about its source. Dreadnought need not contain implications of hard heartedness or self-centeredness, though some folk might assume that.  No more descriptors about it from me, though they flit like joyful raptors through my brain.  You can play with them if you wish, but, take care:  you may, like me, end this word/idea game by admitting,  “I fancy being a dreadnought,” or perhaps just to be perceived as one.  (Now, if this isn’t personality dabbling in imagination, I’ ve never observed myself before!)

   Meant to talk about the loving nature of dogs (and other two brained beings) with this pic of my dear friend playing with my dear dog.  Gurdjieff said something to the effect of, love a dog and you learn to love.  In this cold weather, Red and I have taken trips to the big box stores and mall six times in two weeks, for exercise and certainly to their profit…cha-Ching!  I usually avoid such shopping which was once upon a time a major form of entertainment.  It got boring, somehow, as well as expensive…even wasteful?  So what’s love got to do with it, Tina?

    First, my willingness to take my little bowwow there often shows me I love. Ugly little secret, I have doubted my ability to love many times in my 78 years.  But I have no doubt that I love this dog, so when I feel or tell people I love them, I know I mean it.

   Second, scores of people have greeted and petted Red (and me as his person) in these trips.  He gives them a moment to feel and show love.  Does he love it?  Mostly, but I think he gets tired. Yet GIG would agree: dogs keep on giving.