A Different Kind Of Day

I tried to convince myself it’s just another day,

….but on this very special day someone pulled hard on a thread

from the Tapestry Of My Life;

… and unraveled their strands of COLOR to change their part in it to gray.

….all the way back to the beginning of time. 1

 ….and then just like that

my heart broke.

It’s a different kind of pain to realize your truth is yours alone.

It’s a different kind of fear to feel the prejudice you didn’t know existed.

The three who love me most tried,

….but I locked myself away to heal my δoul

Then I rewrote a lifetime of memories to protect my δpirit

Filling back in the colors as I dared…

….and sat alone realizing that coloring twisted memories is like finding a rainbow in the dark.

….and I let fall the different kind of tears.

 

Ghost Burglar Break-In

Technically it was the wee hours of the morning on July 5th but I still thought the loud crash at 2:07 A.M. was part of a random neighbor’s 4th of July home firework show.firework

As I registered the sound it occurred to me that what I heard was a loud THUMP followed glass breaking. G was already out of bed standing next to the door looking confused and adorable at the same time. We must have been a sight as I hunched down behind him, both of us scantly clad with bed head and slit eyes.  He doesn’t question that my position hiding behind him ensures he will encounter the bad guy first but I still fell kind of guilty.  Burglar RunningWe creep down the hall as graceful as cat burglars to the kitchen. It is at this time I suddenly realize if there IS an intruder we are barefoot and have no weapon.  My heart starts pounding but is soon relieved to see this:

Somehow a   blue vase has crashed to the ground. I am amp-ed up on adrenaline as grab a broom and start sweeping into the dustpan.  Still in the doorway and groggy, G is watching me……so I say “here, make yourself useful” and hand him the dustpan handle. img_7151

For SOME reason I get the giggles. Mostly because I realize I NEVER talk to him like that, and also because he does it on command.  Note to self, if one ever decides to order G about take a chance at 2:08 A.M.

“Where did the painting go!?” I exclaim.img_7153-1

We look around the kitchen and G replies “Ghosts” which is the first word he has said so far.  I keep sweeping and looking around for the painting.Cartoon Ghost

“Maybe it was stolen.” I say and then we look at each other and BURST OUT LAUGHING.  Perhaps I should explain our hysterics: 

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The missing painting was created by me at a recent Wine and Paint party at a gallery.  To those who haven’t heard of Wine and Paint party here is the description: A group of friends attend a “class” hosted by a local gallery. Bring snacks & plenty of your favorite wine (oh, and an extra bottle to share with everyone else, wink).  The instructor takes her happy artists on a step by step journey to paint the exact same thing. Blue background, oval, another oval, (mine is looking like a green vagina at this stage), swipe some color, blob here, dot there…

Soon the wine kicks in and jokes about giving each other the  painting for Christmas and other such shenanigans ensue.We are amazed at the different versions we have created and notice someone (far right bottom row) paints it perfectly (DEBBIE) complete with glitter. Next step, sign our masterpieces with  sharpie and go  home.  Well ONE of us in the picture below (hint, the one with big earrings) looks a little TOO happy.  (Wine remember?)

Soooo- back to what is now 2:09 A.M., and the absurdity of someone breaking in to steal my paining  hits us hard. Giggling uncontrollably now while we look around, under, through for the painting.   Really though, where is it? WHERE IS IT?? G finally realizes it fell behind the desk trapped perfectly so that it doesn’t hit the ground which is quite anticlimactic to my wildly imagined scenarios.  I think the WALL JUST REJECTED MY ART

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All is well again

So we hang it back up, turn off the light and head back to bed.  G is back asleep by 2:13 A.M. (How does he DO that?)  I however am now fully awake writing this post. Sigh.

Going To The Dogs

Excited for Prime day and I was ready.  I had my item all picked out.   The first one sold out in minutes and the remainder well…Apparently the site has been crashing all day.  You are redirected to these adorable pictures of  dogs delivering the bad news.  Meet some of the dogs of Amazon!

Wheelbarrow Yoga Anyone?

Calling all Yoga Enthusiasts!  Wheelbarrow Yoga FREE this weekend!   Join us for a free session 10-noon this Saturday only.  First come first served.  Includes Bharadvaja’s twist (filling wheelbarrows with dirt), deep Malasana pose (digging dirt) along with weight bearing exercises (emptying wheelbarrow).  Your choice of wheelbarrow color & shovel size.   Session bound to fill up soon, ACT FAST!

Stop Locking Your Love On Bridges 

I have an unreasonable fear of bridges.
This includes bridge like structures such As the Eiffel Tower; which G points out stress cracks and rusty bolts holding thousands of tourists a day.  It’s like Gabriel Iglesias says about when a 400 pound person is getting on an elevator and we begin to calculate weights of the passengers.

This is how I see it.

The Navajo Bridge is now abandoned to cars which does not make me feel safer. I know that engineers spend their lives calculating the weights and measures on these projects. That’s why I started this by saying my fear is unreasonable.  Now this bridge is an attraction to take pictures like this:

and this:

I realize I am about half way and think I can always jump to the emerald water below if the bridge under my feet gives way.  The heros of ALL action movies hang on to the correct piece of rope/wood/steel and swing to safety.  Only bad guys fall to their deaths.  Then I see this sign which makes me question everything.

Perhaps the jump isn’t survivable so I hold on tightly to the rail and distract myself with the locks couples put on bridges now as a symbol of their love.  I do NOT want to put a love lock on the bridge because the engineers didn’t plan on that extra weight did they lovers?

Holding onto the rail I find this etched from 2010.

I know there is a story here so I Google the name.  Good to know he survived.

 

 

 

 

 

Crack Wine

Leaving on Friday my  co-workers are discussing plans. CW 1- “I’m just going home.”       CW-2 “I’m going to go home and change my clothes and”….something about doing work on a Friday night…(I zone out a little) Suddenly silent I realize it’s my turn and I say all nonchalantly “I’m going to the Liquor Store.”  Which I do.  This is why:

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This is  a wine cabinet I made out of some old barn wood, clay roof tiles, & wrot iron I found.

I have a plan to fill my empty wine cabinet & am truly amazed that I can’t find a parking spot at Total Wine. (My brother calls it “Totally Wine” which is adorable).  With all the cars and people  I am thiking there must be an event! Perhaps a sale!!  Nope.  Just a random Friday.  Most of the people here are over 65 pushing carts full of booze loaded up  for the weekend.  (I blame hours of retirement time listening to recent news reports).

I have a few favorites and it just so happens they are ALL on the bottom shelf CAUSING ME TO BEND OVER.  Once I was home I realized this little gem:

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This is a picture of my split ass pants as shown to the entire world today. Gary says this picture is the opposite of a “facie” (which is what he calls selfies).

 

 

 

 

Yep, I flashed an aisle full of people my shredded ass black pants with my white undies shining through.  How did this even happen?  Wait… don’t answer. In any case I filled up my wine cabinet with a few of my favorites:

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I feel complete again.

Talking Boobs

While standing in a long  grocery store line I point out this tag line on a magazine cover to G. He says “If your boobs could talk we’d be RICH!

With my luck my boobs would be sarcastic, kind of like Triumph the insult comic dog, but with boobs. Nobody wants sarcastic boobies. I forgot what magazine it was so I googled it. The astonishing result of my partial entry below.  (It struck me that one of those lines is different from the others; like a Sesame Street song).

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Apparently I am polishing off 2016 with the mentally of an 8th grade boy.

Teddy Bear Guy & Other Annoyances

Last evening I stopped at a crowded grocery store with very long lines. The shoppers in the “10 items or less line” had spilled across the only aisle that crosses the  front of the store creating a blockade.  A tall young man wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses & earbuds was standing near the end of the line & was also holding a giant teddy bear. He had his face, well mostly his lips, pressed against Teddy’s furry nose. I maneuvered across  the line which was difficult as neither Teddy lover nor the shopper in front of him moved an inch. Uuhhhgh.  I was tired and now I’m  irritated that they didn’t part and make a courtesy space required for others to get through. A few minutes later I was ready to checkout & happy the line had reduced to 3 people. The universe was not finished getting my attention as the first customer couldn’t get her credit card to work & the next woman wrote a check. A Check.  The last guy wants cigarettes that the store doesn’t carry anymore. We all find this out together after the (more tired than I was) cashier conducts a thorough search behind the customer service desk. Finally my turn and I am released back out to the world. As I drive off toward a beautiful sunset I notice Teddy Bear Man walking along the side of the road.  He’s still wearing aviators & carrying his giant bear. NOW I notice he is sweeping a white  cane  with  a red tip back and forth. Awwww DAMmit. Teddy Bear guy is awesome. Oh &  brave like I can’t imagine.

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