Listening

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Hi

It’s a happy day here, for no particular reason, yet there are so many to celebrate. First, a bounty of kick-ass yoga sessions this week. My body is feeling as strong and beautiful as a wild mustang, caught full-gallop in a still photograph, and I’m not embarrassed to say it. I am very disciplined in my practice and being able to move in ways previously unfathomable is beyond thrilling.

Second, and I cannot think the words without unleashing a torrent of grateful tears about the myriad friends, near and far, who grace my life. I get calls and mail and messages and hugs and the tiniest of remembrances that render my soul into the highest of soaring kites. Squee, I tell you, squee!

Third, the weather has turned, maybe for only a brief period, but I am holding it with all I can muster, wiggling my toes on sun drenched pavement, while my ears fill with birdsong and the humming of bees, and inhale the scent of lilac, earth, and grass and the promise that is Spring.

Fourth, I’ve been grooving and dancing and singing, ever so much, to Radiohead (goes without saying, I suppose), Fleet Foxes, Other Lives, and My Morning Jacket. BIG sounds that awaken ancient stirrings.

Hoping it is lovely wherever you find yourself.

Hugs and love to you from an entirely unapologetic Pollyanna…

Happy Birthday Martha!

 

Remember me telling you that we bought tickets to Radiohead?

Well, goll-ee, if it didn’t seem like ages ago and impossibly far in the future. But the date arrived, and we drove to Seattle for an overnight adventure to see one of the greatest bands of all time. You can disagree with me if you like, but I shall cover my ears while uttering, “La la la la…”

We’re just north of Boeing Field here, in Georgetown, a cool little enclave that is home to the tasty Calamity Jane’s restaurant, top photo, and across the street from the old stock house building. At said restaurant, you can get a side of Cheetos! Toss my every intention of eating somewhat healthy out the window during lunch because, damn it, I’m gonna have a delicious grilled ham and cheese with a side of these. I’m gonna smile and laugh and enjoy it, too.

Then I’m gonna walk it off, while taking scores of pictures, of course, because that is what I do.

The hat and boot, which is actually part of a pair, though not a matched one, are ginormous!

We’re in Fremont now, enjoying sunny skies before the show. The huge vent was blowing ever so powerfully, and I took it all in, becoming a light pole swallower in the process. I’m sure stranger things have happened.

Man, do I love bridges. This is the Fremont.

My favorite work of art. Wearing aviator glasses. Gulp.

The George Washington/Aurora Bridge that is infamous for other reasons, as well. Call it what you like.

“The TV baby shot me.”

Hello tall buildings!

A very fine view.

At the show, we sat next to another couple our age, the woman and I bonding over the weight of it without uttering the words. We saw it in each other’s eyes.

Afterward, and before my giddiness wore off, we sat on the hotel patio, enjoying the light and the cool evening air. Of course, we discussed everything Radiohead.

Like how the lights and general atmosphere were the best we’d ever seen, but the bass sometimes drowned everything out and made our bones rattle. How Thom and I are the same kind of dancers, and how his voice is just as good live. How tall Ed is. How we loved watching Jonny playing the lemon shaker and the piano with his guitar lying in his lap. He can play anything, even in pain. And how I cried when they played “How to Disappear Completely.” I was just so damn happy to be there, with my best friend in the world, watching and listening.

The next morning we went to the market.

Being a Tuesday, there was hardly anyone about, which was kind of nice.

Maren, we saw your hum-bao guy after we bought our piroshky. A smoked salmon, a beef, and the cardamom-cinnamon twist. Bread-y, dough-y heaven.

On our way home again. This could be an album cover.

“Glasses and Seatbelts.”

Sunshine AND bridges!

A link to more Radiohead goodness. You never know when you’re gonna need a fix, unless you’re me, of course. That would be daily.

Everything in its right place, indeed.

 

 

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Some ever so random bits and bobs for you today. My mind is a wandering one. Its oft preferred state, which, after some overly obsessive and incredibly tiresome thinking suits me fine. Uh-huh.

First, a little more leg than I anticipated, but whatever. Call me a slut, but my neighbor beat you to the punch on whore. Because if a little leg, using birth control before having my internal lady parts removed (read about it here: 1, 2, 3, 4) , and enjoying sex with my husband make me one, I say, in for a penny, in for a pound. Anyhoo, the socks beg to be seen! They are from Gumball Poodle (oddly, I bought mine at New Seasons) and are perfect for roller skating, even when hidden under cropped pants, with many other neat-o options. Meat, anyone? Beer? Bacon?

Second, a little listening. Do you know about Poking Smot? I must say that I, in no way or shape, like this moniker. Really? That’s the best you got? Well, I shall forgive you because your website is so freakin’ awesome that it nearly makes my head spin. Music, so very much music: new, old, jazzy, synthy, rocky, poppy (currently jiving and toe tapping to Sandy Bull’s “Blend”). Merde et zut alors! This place could be the site of my downfall. I’ll just listen to one more song and be on my way, oh and another, but wait, they’ve got that? Down for the count peeps, d-o-w-n!

Third, a little reading. This is a shout out for local writer K.B. Dixon who sent me a copy of his book, The Photo Album. It is a very quirky, Colleen-style tale. A warm breeze of an afternoon read and well worth the time, it’s an imaginary photo album (hence the title) with captions. What was happening there? What was intended? What don’t we see? Filled with details of places I love and very much home. It made me think, laugh, and sigh with wonder.

Fourth, a little watching. And contrast. First, another one of my man-crushes, Zach Galifianiakis (I’m not kidding), in a supporting role (with Jason Schwartzman and Ted Danson – a fine trio if ever there was) in a truly awesome and also very Colleen-style comedy series, Bored to Death. I think I’ve mentioned this bit of kooky before, but dang, do I love it so. The hubster can’t get enough of it either, I might add. We laugh until we cry and always want more. Luckily we’ve got DVD number two waiting for us to-night. It’s on, bitches! (Just for you, Amber)

Now to the contrast, The Yellow Handkerchief. It follows Brett (William Hurt) after his release from prison, searching for a new hold on life and remembering May (Maria Bellow), the love he left behind. Then there is Martine (Kristen Stewart) and Gordy (handsome Eddie Redmayne), young and inexperienced, escaping home, awkward and yearning for a connection, to no longer be outsiders and first forgotten. They travel in Gordy’s car, through the post Katrina aftermath, taking ill used highways and discovering unexpected places, especially within themselves. Sweet and sad and happy.

Fifth, a little love, for you, sweet readers, and Friday. Have a tip-top, hat’s-off, groove-on weekend!

 

Saturday:

Cleaned the kitchen and a rather filthy and malodorous refrigerator, liberating a myriad of ill used condiments and forgotten foods.

Made focaccia and smoky roasted red pepper and tomato stew with garbanzo beans, delicious.

Enjoyed a beautiful light

That warmed us all.

Sunday:

Got up early, more gorgeous light.

Walked to breakfast, more deliciousness.

Saw beauty everywhere en route home.

Danced and danced to Fleet Foxes “Grown Ocean,”

While my newly bearded man typed and strategized on top-down, multi-player, outer space game functionality.

Watched the moon rise.

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I do not know to whom these boxer shorts belong, save some faceless young man with no fear of exposing his drawers. It may be slightly redundant to say that I quite like them, having taken a photo on the sly and all, neat cassette tapes and fond memories of days before digital. The beautiful garbage made after being jettisoned from a car window, brown plastic fluttering and alive in the slightest breeze.

Yesterday was a weird day, part shitty crapper-doodle, and thanks to friends near and far, part best of the best. Today is better, though cold, cold, cold. I am yearning for an escape (back here!), to lie in warmth with bright light shining in my eyes, but since there is no sun to be had for miles upon miles, and my bank account is not bottomless, I have, a la Mr. Snazzy Boxer Shorts, made a mix-tape, hoping it warms me from the inside. It’s dreamy-rocky-hip-hoppy and as golden as summer skin.

“Tequila Sunrise” – The Eagles

“Someday Some Morning Sometime” – Billy Bragg & Wilco

“Expecting to Fly” – Neil Young

“Going to California” – Led Zeppelin

“Sea Side” – Devendra Banhart

“Warrior’s Ring” – Shiva Rea Yoga Trance Dance CD, to which I lost the sleeve.

“I Know You Got Soul” – Eric B. & Rakim

“The Idiot Kings” – Soul Coughing

“Would?” – Alice in Chains

“The Golden Hour” – Marisa Anderson

“The First Taste” – Fiona Apple

“Moonlight Drive” –  The Doors

“Half-Light” – Lanterna

“The Eclipse” – Fionnuala Ni Chiosain

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