Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
My daughters liked to dress up, and as far as I know, still do. My favorite dress-up dress was a brilliant red satin with fabulous rows of trim 1920's flapper dress. It lived in an old trunk in Grandma Annie's shed. My granddaughter Kaitlyn, has a whole pile of dress-up dresses, and they are to die for; Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, various fairies and even a mermaid or two. Annie has fireman attire with which she wears her tierra/Princess Crown. Mary Alice and Rebekah dress-up every single day of every week! No down-time for the gorgeous.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
Falling down stairs unlike a slinky, bumping clumsily hitting elbows and knees on the narrow walls, landing on my knees at the bottom, putting runs in both my nylons. kneeling in sprawled prayer, this was a time if there ever was one, for God to appear
He didn’t, and neither did She.
Cutie Rassmussen was in the living room. Maybe he was in the kitchen. Around the corner from my absolutions; washy devotions, unskilled prayers uttered in whispered profanity, GodDAMmit. Cutie was in our house making small talk, waiting for me to appear for the honor of his escort to The Dairy Princess pageant? Contest? Competition? Cutie was a 400 year old bachelor and his name described him in the most cynical terms.
My little sister raced for the scene of clattering, clomping door-bursting disaster. Her eyes, usually brown, were popping-out black, and her lips pursed a perfect 0. I flew to my feet, crippled her with a scathing look which I regret to this day as the moment was immortalized in her experience. Yet how else would a Dairy Princess act? I wasn’t about to writhe around on the floor and show my misery.
Instead I went back upstairs for a new pair of pantyhose. My jaw set firmly so as to not burst into tears, I returned to walk stoically into the living room, like I imagine a more together princess would walk to the guillotine. Both my knees ached in a dull way. It occurred to me that feeding Jersey calves was a much more natural activity, even pitching Jersey shit into a wheelbarrow seemed vastly more appealing.
Cutie’s car was kind of like him, nondescript. I remember nothing about it except that it was dark blue and smelled musty mildewy like the insides of a repeatedly flooded garage. It is not my intention to be unkind, none of this was his fault. I just silently hated him for no good reason.
I was runner-up Dairy Princess. No riding on the convertible for me. No State competition. I returned home to answered prayer; my poopy Jersey calves bawling hungry the next morning. That evening I heard my father say to his colleagues that he was proud of me, his eldest daughter. He seemed to not notice that I had given an anti-war speech, urging the audience to take action towards bringing our troops home from Viet Nam.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Maybe you remember my rhapsodizing about planting climbers with those who stand tall... look behind the Morning Glory and you can see the clamberings going on! I am stunned by the hearts in the photo. Love in the Morning.
Every day I search for Neighbor Beans. Look what I found this morning! Just shedding her slipper, look at the shadow on the leaf below her. Miracles are everywhere today.
Ms. Brandywine has exquisite blossoms. Before this year I had never realized how each variety of tomato has its own unique blossoms and leaves! Why would I be suprised at that?
I have planted several varieties of Morning Glories. This one is ethereal, it looks as though it is glowing from the center. See Cleome in the background? Yes, this is turning into a bloomin' jungle! Just right.