Friendship

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A fond memory of snow: the bright stillness of night, everything aglow.

The best and gentlest man I know with my favorite, and almost nineteen year-old, girl.

At Bob’s Red Mill, the white is a sheet of ice. I bought a cardamom bun, scads of dry beans, and a 25-pound bag of whole wheat flour. I can’t believe how quickly we go through it.

A “Welcome to Kentucky” flight of whiskey and bourbon at Tapalaya. Not a bad start to a lazy afternoon. I love sitting my nose close to the rim and inhaling just as much as I love the flavor on my tongue. Maybe because it reminds me of pipe tobacco and my Grandpa, the tins he stowed around the house, with me lifting the lids just enough to concentrate the scent in my eager nostrils.

The flight was followed by the quite literal blue plate special of crayfish etouffee, black-eyed pea salad, and garlic bread; and an oyster po-boy, sweet potato fries, and red beans. All was fabulous, as always, the biggest surprise being the salad. Unaccustomed to cold black-eyed peas, we were leery, but the flavor won us over right-quick.

My weekly decaf latte. It does a body good.

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Happy Sunday! Yesterday was a lovely day, straight from my Colorado childhood, with fat flakes dancing and swirling and uttering hush. We walked to the park with our cardboard “sleds” to join the multitudes. It was a mellow ride compared to the toboggans and saucers, but no less fun. I laughed, loud and hearty, my heart full of joy at such a simple pleasure. We came home, my legs wobbly from so much running up the hill,  and warmed with hot chocolate and a deliciously hot bath. We cuddled, humans and felines alike, and snacked with movies on the sofa. And this morning, I awoke to the magical Dr. Zhivago coating of ice. Lovely and crackly, with birds, squirrels, and this human skittering to feed and capture the splendor of it all.

Look at these sweet kids! Twenty-three years since our first date. Oh, how the time flies…

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Style

My style is classic: turtlenecks, cardigans, ankle length jeans and corduroys, ballet flats, and a bit of sparkle.

Heirloom

Grandma Rouble’s wedding ring. I wear it with l o v e.

Heartbeat

Faster with cake!

Warmth

Milo, our little heat seeker. If there is warmth, he will find it: a lap, a heat register, a cozy corner, a sliver of sunlight.

One Community is a monthly project in which participants photograph their homes and community with a theme in mind. The goal is to both showcase similarities and differences in our communities worldwide – and bring us all closer together in understanding through art.

Would you like to join us? Post one or more photos for each of this month’s theme words, chosen by Kelli, style, heirloom, heartbeat and warmth, and add your blog post to the link-up. Easy! It begins today, February 5th, and stays open for one week.

Snap happy!

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Walked to the Tao of Tea for a late lunch yesterday and slowly sipped the afternoon, Frozen Summit and chai. Our wander home found us at the Bagdad with just enough time to see the 3:30 showing of Her. We loved the gorgeousness of it, the architecture and moving spaces, the well captured feeling of falling in love, of being in love, of friendship, of life at its best and brightest. Then a chilly twilight walk, ungloved hands too cold to hold, save at the end, near enough to home that it no longer mattered.

Rest in Peace, Philip Seymour Hoffman. You were one of the best.

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Happy Friday, peeps! That’s my darlin’ Maren, in town for holiday festivities. We made a pilgrimage to the Portland Art Museum (as is our nature), walked, talked, ate, and gave satisfyingly big squeezy hugs. It is marvelous to have friends. She is conducting a Trimpin kinetic sculpture that made the most sensational sounds. It was the cause of many a smile, too, and rightly so.

detail of This Land is Our Land

Abbie Miller

She uses a single 100 foot zipper. Wowie!

detail of PMU #25

Roxy Paine

Follow this link to see how another work in the series was made.

Oh bother, I forgot to get the artist info on this sculpture, anyone know? The mobile, however, is a Calder.

I didn’t get the name of this one either, silly bones.

This beauty, however, I can say with 99.5% certainty is a Mercedes 300, circa the 1950s. Shiny!

Hello. We were happy, not only because we were together, but had just gorged on homemade biscuits and gravy, which were fab. I had food disappointment earlier, at what I thought was a promising new diner near our house. The biscuits were hard, and though the gravy was called mushroom, there were, no exaggeration, three tiny slivers of fungi in the whole mess of gravy. Sad face. So we made up for it, and how! The purdiest, flakiest, yummiest, mile high biscuits (a riff on this recipe) bathed in gravy swimming with mushrooms and country sausage. I took not one photo, just to prove that I don’t actually have a camera appendage. Honest.

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