Courage is fear holding on a minute longer.
George S. Patton
My sincerest thanks and admiration to Veterans and their families.
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Hello Jimmy, friends, and neighbors –
I hope you’re having a lovely day and are keeping warmer than I am. It’s downright chilly in Portland. And drat to the elephant in the room. Making this week’s installment of my campaign to be a guest on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon was more arduous than expected, complete with a small artistic meltdown (What am I doing?) and multiple upload failures (Aw snap!). Whew! Glad that’s over. My apologies for the long delay.
As for the content, I celebrate the crazy vault of song lyrics located in my head without exposing your delicate senses to my untrained voice. Maybe music lessons are in my future. What say you, crystal ball? After my appearance on Jimmy Fallon? Hot damn! Anyhoo, the watercolors, just in case you’re wondering, save the aeroplane (a favorite rubber stamp), are all mine. Not bad for a beginner, if I do say so myself.
Enjoy!
Tags: Art + Craft, Jimmy Fallon
Hello Everyone! Hello Jimmy!
Welcome to the second installment of my campaign to be a guest on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, further showcasing my talents and interests. Have I also mentioned that I am house trained and eat very little? You’ll notice the improved video quality (the sound actually matches my mouth!), though Milo the cat is ever determined to have his voice heard. It is election season, after all, and just so you know, I am by no means shirking my civic duty with this campaign. Voting is important! The only disappointing bit is that my scan of the painting I made turned out uber-creepy (watch the video if you don’t know what I’m talking about) and not at all blog worthy. Sigh. Hopefully I can remedy this before next week.
Be Well –
Colleen
Tags: Jimmy Fallon
Good Morning Gentle Readers! Good Morning Jimmy Fallon (I hope)!
This post started out as something completely different. A dear friend of mine lost her father recently (big hug to you, sweetheart) and wrote how she would love to hear about more normal activities, as she is knee deep in all of the tasks inherent with the loss of a loved one: cleaning house, dealing with banks, bills, a will, etc. When I first read the message, I could comply. I was up to my usual.
Then, yadda, yadda, yadda, I quit my job and our car got stolen (though, thankfully, not on the same day). Not fun or normal. Yet, in the midst of it all, I found myself smiling and laughing, in part because of Jimmy Fallon. In case you don’t know who I’m talking about, I mentioned his awesome work hosting the Emmy Awards a while back. Then I saw him, along with Justin Timberlake and the best house band in late night television, The Roots, do an equally awesome history of rap on his show. I watched it on a loop for about half an hour, and then dashed off to the computer whenever I needed a pick-me-up. It made my heart fill with glee, people! I was dazzled and singing at the top of my voice (that is, where I could keep up).
Then I got to thinking about how that seems to happen every time I watch Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. It’s just a terrific show. I love his style (check out the suit and shoes in the video with Justin – tip top!), his sense of humor and easy laughter, the way his smile lights up his face, his sincere interest in his guests, and most of all, I think, the sheer fun factor of the show. He’s fearless and up for anything. Let’s rap! Let’s play football poker! Let’s get bothered in a tree! LATE!
It made me want to be there, as a guest, sharing a laugh and a smile. But I’m not famous. I’ve written a novel that has yet to have representation and write a little blog all the way across the country. What to do? It being election season and all, I decided to launch my own campaign to be a guest on the show. This week begins with my credentials in the everyday, and the two following Mondays will be, let’s say, more nuanced.
I guess I’ve really taken the Mark Twain quotation from my last post to heart. I may succeed, or I may crash and burn, but hot damn, I’m out of the harbor! As well, I know the video isn’t the best quality (sorry Brian Williams), and our cat Milo speaks before I do, but I had a grand time making it – a blast of silliness and sheer Colleen style goofiness. It took the sting out of a craptastic week and put a smile on my face (and that of my hubster/camera man). Jimmy, I hope you like it, too!
Happy Birthday to my brother Aaron!
Tags: Jimmy Fallon
Glittering diamonds of dew; emerald leaves, needles, and moss; ripe ruby huckleberries; opalescent water and stone under a brilliant lapis lazuli sky. These are the many jewels of Opal Creek Ancient Forest Center, Mother Nature’s living, breathing cathedral of earth, water, sometimes fire, and air. Despite their glimmering and pristine character, they hardly encompass the magic and wonder of this truly special place.
As I am one who sees the beauty, power, and resilience of the natural world wherever I go, urban and rural settings alike, I thought I knew what to expect at the Opal Creek Ancient Forest Center – a grand place of primal waters and trees older than the nation I call home. After all, I’ve been to myriad forests and seen the majesty of trees towering above me. I’ve witnessed the scrappy plant proudly blossoming from a tiny crack in the sidewalk. I’ve seen water of such blindingly brilliant hues as to leave me speechless. Despite all of this, I was wholly unprepared for my experience at Opal Creek. The beauty and peace I felt was staggering and resonated deep in my bones. Every step, glance, and sound steeped in the sublime.
It all starts with the journey, literally and figuratively. We load the car here at home, drive south through the cacophony of morning rush hour before turning east. Already there is a shift. There are fewer cars, more trees, large stands of oaks peppered between farms, shopping centers, and even a prison. The landscape changes again as we make gains in elevation, and the grassy knolls turn into vast stands of evergreens. Their clean scent mingles with the dust of the dirt road under our wheels. We park the car, but we aren’t quite to the end of our journey. We walk three miles out of time. It could be the 1930’s of rustic wood cabins, gold panning, starlit skies, and cast iron. And in those places where there is no sound save the chirp of a camouflaged bird or the drip of of a watercourse borne of centuries, we might just be in America before it was, two nameless faces living off the land.
