Mabel Opening Gifts

My sweet girl came over and kissed me after each gift she opened. (You'll see her do this between gifts.) This video is gifts #2 and #3.



Now, here's what happened to gift #1 - a stuffed toy:



Audio translation:
00:02: We have a sure fire sign she liked her toy because she's trying to hide it!
01:22: We're doing the "sniff" test to see if it's too close to the surface. (Mabel turns.)
01:26: Yes! Mommy's watching.
02:12: Miss Belle, Show 'em your nose! Show 'em your nose. Mabel! Show 'em your nose. Yes, that would be the evidence right there.

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The Best Thing About Winter

Actually, the best part is when I lay by the fire with her, roasting marshmallows. Mabel moves even closer to the fire, watching...waiting patiently for her marshmallow.




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Wishing You a Little...

Christmas Chair!

This chair, dressed in holiday finest, belongs to my best friend. I'm not certain if it's her way of saying, "Come on in, sit a spell!" or if it's just her being so "punny," but I knew I had to share it.

As we were posing the chair and I was holding my breath before clicking the shutter, the BF whispered to her chair, "Smile!"

Hope your day is filled with joy!

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The Worst Part of Fall (Updated 12-25)

California most definitely has different seasons. My mother in Louisiana has been marveling about the 40 degree weather we've had while things are much warmer there.

We are in the heart of fall. The few Christmases I've been lucky enough to stay home have always found me Godsmacked at the sudden beauty of trees that decide to decorate themselves for the holiday. Every street is awash with brilliant gold and red leaves.



The winds come and force leaves still clinging to their brethren on the vine to fall, creating a luxurious carpet of color.

And while I love the crunching sound underneath my feet as I hike along the area known locally as Walden Pond, the absence of leaves on the shrubs saddens me and makes me feel exposed in an area where I normally love feeling hidden from the world.

This spot runs parallel to the Angeles National Golf Club - Hole #3, to be precise. And why does it matter if the golfers can see me? Because it takes away the fun I have with them when they don't know I'm there.

A golfer will swing a mighty drive, trying desperately to get his ball across the arroyo to the hole and yells at the top of his lungs, "FORE!!" And I, hidden from view by my precious poplar shrubs, simply cannot resist... I yell back, "FIVE!!!" and I wait. Laughter always ensues.

But alas, this is a pleasure that must wait for Spring...




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Creekhiker Philosophy

Advice given to a friend:

Some days, life is like when you wear fuzzy pants and forget about them and go hiking off trail. It's just gonna stick to you for a while.

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Mad Enough to Spit

The thing that pisses me off more than the incessant parties every group I belong to seems to think we need to have this time of year is ...Christmas cards.

You may think this strange as I work in the paper arts field. Heck, I used to hand make around 150 cards each year. And in each one, I included a hand written note detailing the last year.

But I'm not knocking Christmas cards in general. I don't even mind receiving mass produced holiday "newsletters."

No, the thing that pisses me off is finding an envelope in the mail from some long lost friend. One I really don't keep in contact with. I rip into the fancy envelope all excited and skip the store bought sentiment on the front, looking, hoping, praying for some juicy detail of my friend's life. And then, I'm crushed. The only thing in the card is "Love, Susie Q."

So, you take the time to shop, spend the money on a card, and time to address the envelope and all I get is Love, Susie Q???? WTF???

Other than knowing my friend is alive, yet another year goes by when I know nothing of her life.

This is the very reason I stopped sending all those cards a few years ago. Just let 'em wonder if I'm even alive to read the stupid things. They don't even go on my mantle or my card wreath that I keep year round in the hall. Nope, they go straight in the recycling bin where they can't piss me off any more!

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When Trees Talk

I had an amazing experience in the creek today. Mabel Lou and I were over in the runoff admiring how big our flock of mallards has gotten lately (40+). The weather had been terribly windy - 70 mph gusts - since around 4 in the morning. We had snoozed most of the day away before our late afternoon romp.

I was trying to cross a newly washed out ravine and hanging onto a eucalyptus trunk for balance, when I had a thought that the trees were "talking."

Nah...couldn't be. But I heard it again. And Mabel was now staring up. It must be a chipmunk or a squirrel. I arched my back and scanned the three trees that were clustered there, looking for this critter that whined then chuck-chuck-chucked. I moved to the center tree and felt the noise but still couldn't see what was causing it. I moved to the third tree and after staring upwards, I realized the center tree had a long branch that had grown around a large branch on this tree. And when the wind blew, it made this amazing sound. I stood there listening for the longest time.

Mabel took off as we returned to the jeep. As I started to fuss her, I realize she's stopped by a familiar truck. The Rhodies were somewhere in the creek. We start back in and run into them immediately and decided to hike some more.

As I relayed my talking tree tale, their mom, an artist who really "gets" me asked, "Were you aware that trees talked before?"

"No."

"More importantly, did you understand what they were saying?"

"No. I don't speak their language...yet."
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What a Man...

I just had an encounter with one of the most terrifying members of the species I've ever met! I'm shaking as I type.

It was a busy day in the shop. I had planned to torch all morning and then run a few errands... an easy day...sales have been slow. But, we had a t.v. show air and suddenly, I was swamped. One humongous order and several smaller ones. So I was on my feet all day.

I have two holiday parties to attend and after quitting around 7:30, I drove to Smart and Final. It's like a restaurant supply / much smaller Costco. I picked up a frozen lasagna and a few other things and went to my car. I had parked in the handicapped spot because I was limping pretty bad after all that work. After loading my car, I realized someone had parked their big, blue Ford at an odd angle. They had turned into a west facing space while driving east. There was no way to back out without hitting the car.

I went back in and asked the clerk make an announcement. No one came forward. I went back out and got the license plate. As I handed it to the clerk, a lady says, "That's him over there." She pointed to the last check stand.

There was a guy coming toward me - a short, rotund man. I asked, "Are you in the blue truck"

"Who?"

"You...are you in the blue truck?

"Who?"

"YOU! Are you driving a blue truck?"

He had been walking toward me the whole time and now we were belly to belly. Intimidated, I asked, "What are you doing?"

"What're you doing?"

"I'm trying to find out if you're driving a blue truck." I'm backing up now. He moves toward me.

"Sir, I'm handicapped. I just want to l..."

"SO AM I!"

"Well, I just want to leave but I need the owner of the blue truck to move."

"Well, you don't have to get in my face!" {??? Just who got in whose face???}

At this point, the lady comes over and says, "That guy." She points out the true owner of the truck.

I start walking away from Mister Wonderful and ask Guy #2 if the truck is his. He apologizes and says he'll move it just as soon as he's finished paying. Very nice.

As I turn around, I realize half the store is staring at Mister Wonderful in amazement, now over by the exit. He looks back and repeats his last line about me being in his face....

And I just couldn't let it go... "Well, you didn't have to be an asshole." I was still also talking to the truck owner and turned my back, thinking Mr. Wonderful was headed out the door.

I turned to find him back in my face again!

"WHAT did you call ME?"

The whole store heard me... there was no point in lying. I looked him straight in the eye and said, "An asshole. That's what you are when you bully a girl!"

"Well, maybe I'll just go get my wife and let her take care of you."

"Well, maybe I'll call 9-1-1 and let the cops take care of you."

"Well, maybe you should. You walk in here all attitude and get in my face..."

"Sir, it was a yes or no question. I didn't have an attitude. I simply thought you couldn't hear me or understand."

At this point, Mr. Blue Truck is ready to go and Mr. Wonderful is strutting around still muttering threats. I decide to kill him with kindness.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Arg...YOU TOO!"

"Why, THANK YOU!" and I blow him a kiss!

I've become aware that the gutless wonder of a store manager has been standing nearby, watching. I asked the clerk, "Was I rude???"

She shook her head in disbelief, still staring out the door after the guy.

I told the manager, "I don't have a cell phone and you need to walk me to my car and watch me leave."

He agreed. As Mr. Blue Truck pulled out, I could see Mr. Wonderful, pointing at me!

I took a meandering route home.

I have to wonder what kind of woman this man is married to... she must be so proud of him. My gut tells me, he probably bullies her too. I hope she got a kick out of me calling him an asshole. I think she probably has wanted to call him that for a long time.

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Mind Otherwise Engaged

So I hopped out of the shower and went about getting my freshly laundered hair under control. I have thick, auburn, shoulder - length curls and more than enough hair for two people. It basically looks better dirty so I have to "dirty it up" after shampooing. First the hair honey, made for African American hair - my curls, if twisted tightly will stay in place for a few hours by themselves... great for when I'm too hot and too busy to come in from the shop and put my hair up.

Next, leave-in conditioner followed by mouse and, if it's been a really bad hair period, gel.

So I finished the hair chores and got my unmetionables on and piled a big dollop of mandarin mango body lotion in the palm of my left hand and...my mind took a detour:

Where did that little paint pot come from? Must've been in that mini travel kit I unpacked weeks ago. That looks just like the paint pots we used in class this weekend...no, it's made better! It's far easier to open. I wonder who makes these? Oh, look! They're right in Van Nuys! Maybe I could drive by and see if they have the bottles we've been looking for to put sanding sugars in... that would be great to buy them locally and see what I'm getting...OH! What WAS I doing?

I came back to the task at hand - putting lotion on my winter dry skin only... Where is the lotion? I KNOW I put some - a lot - in my hand. I checked my skin... no, still too dry and kinda itchy. Then I looked in the mirror. There were tale tell streaks of peach in my HAIR! I had put the lotion in my hair! And there was no time to take another shower.

The sad part is that I actually resent my mind... it gets to go on little mental trips and My body never gets a vacation!



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