SierraBella tagged me!

The Rules:

1. Go into your archive. :::check:::
2. Find your 23rd post. :::check:::
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to). :::check:::
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. :::check:::
5. Tag five other people to do the same. :::Um, no check -- but if you want to, by all means.... TAG -- You're IT:::

(Please let me know if you do.) In the meantime, here's mine:


"Because I'm stubborn, I published the picture as a regular post anyway."


Scintillating, eh?

I have an Inner Child?! Will I have to breastfeed it?

Thanks to my pal soozieq for the following:

Your Inner Child Is Surprised

You see many things through the eyes of a child. Meaning, you're rarely cynical or jaded. You cherish all of the details in life. Easily fascinated, you enjoy experiencing new things.

Does "easily fascinated" mean what I think it does?


How Is Your Inner Child?

Family Ties (or "Why I Am Nuts Like Everyone Else")

Whew! I am so glad to be back home I can barely express it. Not that hanging out with raving lunatics to whom I'm related isn't fun, just that it's a lot like hanging out with raving lunatics to whom I'm related.

More stories and tales to come, but right now? I've got to negotiate the re-entry into my normal atmosphere, and I don't mind saying that I think there's a piece of my ceramic tile missing. This could get ugly...

Roy, 8.22.1919 - 9.23.2005

Thank you all for your kind thoughts and prayers. Here is a picture of Grandma and Roy taken two years ago at Grandma's 90th birthday celebration.





Roy was a gentle soul with a generous heart, and a hearty laugh. He will be missed by many, but by Grandma most of all. I will be gone until Thursday. Please, everyone, take care of yourselves and each other... and be sure to tell someone you love how very much you love them.

Blove,

Eclectic

Grandma Eysail (pronounced "EYE-suhl")

***UPDATE 9.22.05 @ 10:45a.m.*** Just heard from my mother this morning that sometime in the wee hours, Grandma's husband, Roy, suffered a heart attack from which he likely will not recover. OMG! I cannot fathom Grandma having to be widowed again, and right before her birthday, too. What are the odds I would have written this last night, and this would happen today? So, I'll keep you posted, but it may end up with a trip to KC in my very near future. Any kind thoughts you'd like to toss Grandma's way, I'd appreciate it.

I wish I had a digital photo of my Grandma, or a scanner, or something to post a picture of her... but to you, it would merely be a photo of someone's grandma, nice enough if you like portraiture. It could never show you who she is or how profoundly she has influenced my life.

When we would vacation with my grandparents, I was always allowed to "camp out" with them. Grandma Eysail and I would have silly sleepover activities, like hair curling, nail painting, sundae making, and lipstick wearing. This was all enhanced by the taboo nature of those activities in my own home. Heavens! Grandma Eysail even wore jewelry!! She would sometimes take one of her heavy rings and slide it onto my finger, or drape a sparkly pendant carefully around my 6 year-old neck, sweep up my hair and tint my lips with rose-colored Avon. Oh! I had no idea I could be so pretty, but I must have been... for Grandma Eysail would gasp and clutch at her heart, exclaiming to the world how lucky she was to have such a lovely granddaughter.

This is poignant because my grandmother, Loretta, died a few years before I was born. All three of my brothers can remember her, but to me she's just an ancestral shadow. Grandpa married Eysail about a year before I arrived and in fact, she came to stay with my brothers while Mom and Dad went to my delivery. Eysail is the only Grandma I've ever known on that side of the family, and it shocks me sometimes to think we do not share any blood.

Grandma Eysail will be 92 on Monday. She lives independently and cares for her husband, Roy -- whom she married a few years after Grandpa died and who suffers from Alzheimers -- even though he is 6 years her junior. She is delicate and feminine, sturdy and tough, wise and silly, old and young. And she loves me...still. I will always be grateful for that.

Motif Monday (by mrtl): ROAD RAGE

The Topic du Jour plays right into my character flaws: impatience and perfectionism. For years I've tried to view driving as a little slice of life; a diarama, if you will, that displays my prowess in handling stressors and unexpected delays. And for years behind the wheel, I have bowed my head in defeat.

I mean, seriously. The first occasion I recognized that indeed I have these character flaws -- particularly when driving -- was when my darling two year old daughter shrieked at one of her toys, "MOOOVE, you didiot!"

Um, yeah...Earth to Eclectic? Come in, Eclectic. Can you read me? You're the impatient jerk in the Honda. Get a grip on yourself.

But... I just can't.

Why is it so hard for folks to figure out how to drive? See, the speed limit signs correspond nicely to the little numbers on your speedometer. Please make them match. And the turn signal? Well, that little gizmo is there for a reason. Please figure it out. And you me-firsters who think it's okay to rush, in the lane that ends, all the way up to the point of merger and then butt your way into line? Yeah, there's a special place in a very special line waiting just for you someday. Oh, and before I forget, those of you who need to wait and/or stop at a GREEN light? Yeah, that's fine and all, unless it causes me -- three cars behind you -- to miss that light...in which case, it really pisses me off.

*sigh* So now you, the Internet At Large, know the ugly truth about me. "Hi. My name is Eclectic, and I'm a recovering road-rager. Today is my 10th day in a row without screaming at another driver."

Saturday....in the park......

Wanna know what I did yesterday?

Click here.

And here's a picture of the souvenir:



And close up:



It was awesome! We rode 64.02 miles and drank an unspecified amount of wine, on a day loaded with perfect weather and amazing people. Remind me of this next time I feel like whining, would you? Thanks.

Blue, blue.....my world is blue.

This is a picture of the door from the kitchen onto the back deck. That smear in the middle? Yeah...., well...., that's blue PAINT.







How did it get there, you ask?






Aha. Now it's all coming together for you, isn't it?

Doubt

Thanks again to mrtl for another great Motif Monday topic.


I DOUBT:

That things will always work out for the best;
That anything bad will last forever.

That I'll remember everything I want to remember;
That I'll be able to forget all the things I need to forget.

That everyone who says, "I'm sorry" actually understands what that means;
That everyone who fails to say sorry actually understands what they've done.

That I'll live long enough to fully solve the riddle of my own emotions;
That anyone does.

That real love is possible without a belief in something outside of ourselves;
That true hate ever leads to anything noble.

That this is what Mrtl had in mind;
That it will matter; she's not one to make much ado about nothing.

;)

Little Miss Picky Pants

We have reached the stage in Sydney's illness now where persuading her to eat has become something of a challenge. The vet has recommended a particular kibble-type food, which is the type she has eaten eagerly her entire life. However, enthusiasm has waned of late so we've enhanced it by mixing in a canned and chewy food -- like junk food for dogs -- in the hope of enticing her to eat the nutritious kibble. Here is the result:



The very picture of single-minded concentration.




Bat-dog ears help when you're spitting out bits of kibble inadvertently taken in with the yummy canned food goodness.


Apparently Her Royal Snootiness is willing to spend an unseemly amount of time standing at her dish separating out the kibble. But, at least she's eating.

And this is how Sydney spent her morning. How about you?

Bits and Pieces

I was going to write a funny story today, but I lost my muse. Which, should mean I'm a-mused....which I'm not. Think about it.

***

How to make me laugh: Answer my phone call on the first ring, laughing, and say, "STOP stalking me."

***

Favorite song of the hour: "Wheel" by John Mayer.

***

Best moment today: A complete stranger sitting adjacent to LE and myself at the local Taco Bell completed her lunch and asked if it would be alright to give LE a quarter to get a toy from the little vending machines in the lobby. Stunned, I said, "Sure, but may I ask why you want to?" To which she replied AND I QUOTE: "He is the most delightful child that age I have ever, ever seen and I wanted to give him a tiny piece of the joy he gave me just by being here today."

***

Football practice 5 days a week? At age 8?? For the love of everything.....

***

Football practice + Soccer practice on the same night, at the same time, in different places = pizza for dinner.

Yawning

It starts with a yawn that grows into a stare, which becomes droopy eyelids and a sagging head, and soon, gentle snores. It is warm there in the shaft of sunlight streaming from the window, and the high chair is built perfectly to support his little frame. Watching the battle you can see he is losing. Ah, the seductive and irresistable arms of Morpheus claim yet another busy two-year old, lowering his head onto his plate cushioned by the "'nother half" of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.


***

In a hospital 3000 miles away, another yawn is accompanied by a wince that, when he thinks you can't hear, gives way to a groan. It is always too damn hot in this room and the adjustable bed is built perfectly to be convenient for the nursing staff and to overlook the discomfort of the bed's occupant. Nonetheless, watching from behind your book, you can see that he, too, is losing a battle. The stroke left him paralyzed on one side and nearly blind from the bleeding in his brain, while his weakened heart feebly tried to keep up with the demands his body was making. His head sinks onto his chest and his breath comes in fitful little wisps of sound. Still, the once-busy 82-year old has won his share of battles, and will not concede this one easily.

***

In a sterile office, another yawn is stifled -- but not quite completely, leaving a tell-tale tear glistening in the corner of her eye. She stands with a stretch before heading for the coffee. The air conditioning system is far too efficient and it is never warm enough in the room. The leather chair is comfortable and built perfectly to keep her slender form in an upright seated position for up to 10 or 12 hours at a time. Worshipping the warm, steaming mug, she returns to her desk. The phone rings and her head tips over to cradle the receiver between ear and shoulder. Watching, you see a slump in her shoulders and a glassy expression that indicate she's in no condition to fight. But Morpheus retreats from this ever-busy woman, choosing to save the battle for another time.

***

It starts with a yawn that leads to a sigh. The numbers on the alarm clock cast an odd, reddish glow. He yawns again and squints at them: 3:04. It's pleasantly cool in the room, so his wakefulness cannot be blamed on faulty climate-control. The bed is built perfectly to be soft yet wondrously firm. It begs him to lie down with its smooth, crisp linens and plump pillows. He obliges. He yawns again. He tosses, turns and flops, but the damn sheep refuse to be inventoried. The files, the accounts, the deadlines on the other hand -- they swirl relentlessly through his mind. Though his body aches with fatigue, and every fiber within him begs to surrender, he can tell that Morpheus won't keep his appointment tonight. Despite appearances, the great god of sleep cannot be summoned by a yawn.

Motif Monday (by mrtl): TRAVEL

Ah... to travel. The promise of shimmering shorelines, lazy mornings, high-thrill adventures, low-stress living. The lure of it is like gravity -- irresistable, omnipresent, invisible yet compelling.

As a child, my experience with travel was comprised mainly of frantic, gruelling journeys in the family car -- pulling a travel trailer and often a boat behind that -- as far as we could get from Denver and still return in 2 weeks. Every year a different direction, each trip a destination in itself. Occasionally we'd have need to fly, like on my 10th birthday when we adventured to Oahu and by doing so, extended the celebration to a 28-hour day. Big stuff when you're that age apparently, for I remember it still.

The vacation pattern in my family permitted me to "bag" all but one of the 50 states as a child. Alaska had to wait until later, but Mr. E and I spent 10 days there over our 2nd Anniversary and it was enchanted.

Still, I never had a passport until 2004. Then, in Feb. '05, we travelled with friends to Nicaragua. I can't describe it because the experience was so far beyond words. I long to visit the land down-under and it's neighbor, New Zealand; the United Kingdom and the "Old Countries" on the continent; India, Africa, and Thailand; Ecuador; the world is so large and diverse and I yearn to see it all. But...

There are children in the world dying for lack of basic physical necessities, far too many of them now within my own country. How to justify "saving" for liesure travel when the American Red Cross lacks sufficient water to slake the current thirst? So, my wanderlust will wait. But not, I hope, forever.

Minor Disaster -- not on the order of hurricanes, but still...

Q: What happens when you give your son a haircut on the backporch, and when you are finished you leave the tools out because you intend to cut the baby's hair later, only between those two times the baby gets out onto the porch unattended?







A: O M G!!!!!!!

Stuff Portrait (Thanks, Renee)

I'll have to update with the link to Renee after I find it, but for now, here are today's SPF topics:

1) Favorite Alcoholic Beverage
2) Trunk of Your Vehicle
3) Your Dishes

**UPDATE:** Here is the link.

So without further ado, in addition to the Glenfiddich 12-year-old Single Malt Scotch Whiskey (see July archives...), my favorite such beverages include:



Here's a closer look at the label:



and for beverages of the malted variety, there is little to compete with the caramel-ey goodness of:



As for my vehicle's trunk, I can't tell you how glad I am now that I cleaned the car after last weekend's Idaho Adventure!!! Although, I left the store bag right where it was so you could see how I really live:



Now for the dishes. How embarrassing!! I've had these since my very first apartment back in the late 80s. Renee, did Mr. E pay you to choose this topic in order to motivate me to replace them?



Now, to start the weekend by opening that Black Butte... I hope you all have a relaxing holiday weekend. And for those of us struggling in one way or another with the aftermath of Katrina, I hope that peace and safety will be present over the weekend, and that the recovery efforts will be swift and certain.