Well, hello there!Just in case you're wondering what you've gotten yourself into, my blog's a lot like life: it's a hodge-podge. So pour yourself a steaming cup of goodness, settle in, and I'll tell you all about it--whatever 'it' happens to be . . .
27 February, 2015 – 1:00 am
For the record, the blue skies I’ve been talking about–they’ve no intention of sticking around this weekend.
I can’t say I mind–especially since they’re calling for grey skies and raindrops. You know how I love a good downpour. Sure, it may put a damper on tomorrow’s lunch plans, but it will be lovely all the same.
Speaking of the weekend, did you know the last day of February is National Open That Bottle Night? It’s a night set aside to open that bottle of wine you’ve been saving for a special occasion. Here’s the charming tale of how it got its start. In the words of Dorothy Gaiter:
“We invented Open That Bottle Night to nudge all of us to open those wines that we’ve been keeping for a momentous event and never drink because no occasion, it turns out, is momentous enough. We kept hearing from readers of our column in The Wall Street Journal about all manner of milestones celebrated without these wines. So we designated the last Saturday in February as the date when we would all summon the courage to open that bottle and make it the cause of jubilation. Just gather loved ones and celebrate the bond you share and the contents of those bottles. In truth, every night should be OTBN.”
I think we must join the celebration, non?
With that, I wish you a joyous weekend–one filled with your favorite beverage (be it wine or beer, tea or coffee, water or soda), those you love, and party all your own . . .
20 February, 2015 – 1:00 am
Since last Friday, we’ve had many a to-do. It began with Valentine’s Day and Fat Tuesday. Yesterday marked the Lunar New Year; we’ve now entered the year of the sheep, or maybe the goat. And let’s not forget the Lenten season.
Speaking of which, on Wednesday, a co-worker came back to discuss a project. Before she left, ever so helpful-like, I said, “You’ve got a little something . . . ” then I proceeded to rub my forehead. Oh yes, I did. Perhaps, for Lent, she gave up flipping people off, because she did little more than roll her eyes and say, “Yes, I know–Ash Wednesday.” Terribly kind, that.
Still, every year I think this will be the year–this will be the year I remember, and therefore refrain from humiliating myself. Alas, forty-one years and the tradition continues . . .
Nonetheless, I do have plans for Lent. A friend and I decided to give up procrastination. Specifically, we’re giving up putting off our own writing for another day. We plan to write 500 words a day for the next 40 days (46 if we’re overzealous). It may seem a bit goofy, in light of the holy season, but I assure you, it seems a sacred task.
With that, I pray blessings on you and the days ahead. Whether or not you celebrate Lent, I pray you’ll find the grace to complete what you’ve set out to accomplish.
17 February, 2015 – 11:49 am
My aunt and uncle invited my mom and I over for a Valentine’s Day dinner. It was altogether lovely (especially the part that included a French chocolate custard). As we sat at the table chatting, my uncle slid an old photo in front of me. It was a photo of my cousin and a rather tall fellow, dark and oh-so handsome. One look and I wanted to kiss his face.
His name was Ace.
We’d heard of him in passing. You see, my relatives met him while serving as missionaries in Ecuador. He lived with them for two years. He liked to hang out, socialize–he was not amused if you did not feel the same.
At one point some friends tried to set him up with a girl; she had nothing to do with him.
Then one day, as he walked about, head held high, looking regal and debonair, he caught the eye of a certain military official. Before long, Ace had joined the army. In a coat black as night, he led every procession–his feet click-click-clicking in perfect step.
By the time my relatives left the country, Ace was a Captain. He owned a house and boasted two privates to care for his every need.
Not bad for a Great Dane, non?
How I managed to go my entire life without knowing this story remains a mystery. But it warms my heart to have it now. So to all you writers and artists, actors and directors, take heart: stories abound. They may even lurk in your own family tree.
If art is not your thing, no worries. I’m sure if Ace were around today (and, you know, could actually talk) no doubt he’d tell you to keep at it. Whatever you do, do it well. Don’t give up. You’ll get to where you’re going . . .
Don’t you love the Great Dane Jazz Club print? It’s by Sandra Medlin of Bark Art Portraits. Check out all of her work–especially the Dachshund Cigar Lounge, because there is nothing quite like a Dachshund sporting a bowler hat and mustache. And yes, I’m saying this all on my own–there’s no compensation for me to do so.