It's a new year, already. In a little over a week, my grandson will be five years old. That's just mind-boggling.
My life has been through even more weird twists and turns since I last posted here. I found myself editing previous blog posts to help remove traces of venom.
Ah, yes, I have now read all the Twilight books, though I have not seen the last movie yet. I may wait till it comes out on video. I recommend reading yet another Twilight book, if you are a fan. It's The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner . I was intrigued by the title character, especially since my glimpse of her (Jodelle Ferland) in the movie (Eclipse) made me think of the actress (Olivia Hussey) who played Juliet in the 1968 movie Romeo and Juliet.
Compare these two photos from IMDB.com:
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm2768404992/nm0272706
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm339063040/nm0001377
They don't look just alike, but she reminded me of her. I owned the book that had Ms Hussey on the cover (with the dishy Mr. Whiting) until its binding fell apart. I think the pieces are still in a box in storage with most of my other paperbacks from my pre-apartment days.
Yes, I live in an apartment now. I thought I was going to be living in another house before Christmas, but things changed. That was the theme of 2012.
Eve and Aaron moved to Allen County from Texas. I finally got to meet Spock, Bones, and Sulu, who are their two beagles and their cat, and my granddogs and grandkitty.
Paul and I are working at the track, which has been somewhat revitalized by Instant Racing games. One of these days, it may become a full-fledged casino, if the laws in the commonwealth change. At this time, our hours are in flux. I'm not sure how things are going to go.
Sometimes I think it might be liberating to pull up roots and leave. Entirely. Franklin. Maybe even Kentucky. Period.
Where would I go? Maybe just Bowling Green, or Glasgow, or Burkesville. Maybe Nashville. Or Columbus (even as much as I try to avoid snow!). Or perhaps somewhere like Savannah, or Charleston. I'm not sure what I would do there, but the job market couldn't be much worse than it is here. But at the moment, I would be happy with a decent work schedule and the possibility of finding a home where I can get my furniture out of storage. I miss the four-poster bed I bought when I was pregnant with Eve.
Which brings to mind the subject that inspired me to blog today. I have several guilty pleasures, some of which you know, if you have followed either this blog or Lorilei-tees, my more commercial publication. They include Harry Potter, Twilight, Jane Austin, Phineas and Ferb, and several I have not mentioned before. I also love "Good Luck Charlie," on the Disney Channel. And I love watching HGTV.
I may never own a home of my own. But since I was a kid, I was interested in designing, building, and restoring homes. I also had a sketchpad with plans for a solar-influenced home that would start with a log house my first husband and I owned when we were newlyweds. Of course, we divorced, and nothing ever came of the home idea.
But I can get the vicarious pleasure and live the dream, in my head, watching HGTV. My favorite programs are currently The Property Brothers and Buying and Selling, both featuring an amazing team, twin brothers Drew and Jonathan Scott. Besides being intelligent, well-spoken, resourceful, and talented at their professions, they are also humorous and upbeat, even when giving their clients an often-needed reality check. Besides that, I think they're both adorable. But I'm not always snagged by good looks, you know - my little sister was in love with Beany Boy on this show - http://beanyandcecil.com/ - whereas I had a soft spot for the big green guy. Go figure.
I think I'm missing The Property Brothers right now. Besides, it's time to make supper. I can get back online later.
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Ky-ote, Ky-ote, how'd ya get to Tennessee?
My favorite deejay of all time has passed away. Coyote McCloud will be remembered fondly by many. If you never got to hear him, you missed something special.
There are no words. Well, not now. Later.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Chewy, my babies, and my room
In the old Victorian house where I live, there's a northeast bedroom that used to be my room. From the time I was eleven years old and waiting to enter the seventh grade, through three children and two divorces, from the time I stood only 4'5" tall, until only a few years ago, it was my haven.
First, it was painted blue -- my choice because blue was my sister's favorite color, and it was my way of sharing it with her. Eventually, I went with green, my own favorite color. Then, a few years ago, I relinquished the room. I don't know why. I moved into the slightly smaller southeastern room next to it. We had painted it an odd mauvish pink to match a bedspread and sheet set I had gotten for my daughter Cathie, who actually ending up living with her dad instead. But that room was a catch-all for stuff that didn't have a home downstairs, as well as a place for my first computer. One summer, while I was still working at WKU Campus Child Care, I slept in there a lot. I think the sounds of the crickets at night and the pool filter outside through the open windows was soothing to me. I was writing a lot at the time. Are you surprised that I was writing the great American novel? I'd been working on it since the age of thirteen.
But I think the most breathtaking thing about the pink room was the sunrise. When daylight hit those pink walls, the room was aglow. It was magic. In a house with 11- and 12-foot ceilings and several north-facing windows, it was filled with light. It was amazing.
Maybe that's why I wanted to be in there. There are other reasons which I frequently ponder, but no one can tell me if my answers are correct. I do not know.
Today -- well, it's early AM on Friday, as I finish writing this, so that's yesterday -- I was working on my shops, twittering, modding the CP board. My computer desk is located in the green room now.
Chewy had been making little worried noises, over on the bed Cathie had temporarily left here, on the other side of my monitor. Those flea allergies -- even one bite could cause grief. I decided I needed to give her another bath soon, although she looked better than she had in months. Cathie had clipped her shaggy hair and given her a bath a week or so before.
"Chewy's a good baby," I said softly, and she wagged her stumpy spaniel tail at the sound of my voice. Chewy has been developing cataracts, something I hadn't expected for her age. She is the fourth cocker we have owned -- no, the fifth, since we owned one when I was a baby -- but this was my first encounter with cataracts in my dogs.
About 3:30, I heard Cathie's voice calling upstairs to me, with a note of alarm in her voice.
"Mom!"
I responded, but I went to the stairway, knowing she wouldn't hear me otherwise. Sometimes I think my voice is "invisible," except to E.J.
"Chewy's dead!" Cathie shouted. I knew it couldn't be true. She'd just been there a bit earlier. I hadn't even heard her leave the room. I rushed downstairs. Barefoot, I went outside to see her across the little one-lane steet from our driveway. Chewy was lying in the grass next to the pavement, still warm, but not breathing. I lifted her head, felt her silken chocolate curls beneath my fingers, and didn't want to believe she was gone. I wanted to hold her and comfort her.
Dusty is our cute little Shih Tzu/Peke mix, mostly white with buff-colored points, who can be seen in my shop here: Too Cute for the Dog House. And Winky is the handsome Basset/Beagle mix who posed for this design: Love You Forever. I just hadn't ever gotten around to doing a drawing of Chewy.
As nearly as we can put together, Mom had gone outside to look for Dusty, and Chewy had gone along to take care of her business (so to speak). Mom didn't notice her go out. Then Chewy followed Dusty, who has a bad habit of squeezing out from under our ancient chain link fence. Dusty can see fairly well, though. Chewy could not. A neighbor woman saw an old man driving through hit Chewy, then get out to see if she was okay. He moved her out of the road, but didn't ask around to find her owner.
I guess I should be glad it wasn't one of the children who live in our neighborhood, like my grandson. But I can't find anything about this situation to make me feel glad.
Paul and I spent over an hour digging a hole in a grassy area of the back yard where we buried her beneath the tall trees. I wept intermittently.
I would be going about doing things the rest of the evening and suddenly tear up again. There has been too much sadness and death in the world lately -- much of which touched me -- without its coming into my own personal life.
Now I'm sitting at the desk in the green room, typing at the keyboard, expecting to feel the soft furriness of my little brown shadow rub against my bare feet, thinking I might be required to fuss at her for accidentally turning off the power strip. But that isn't going to happen tonight. I came across her fleecy little doggie bed out in the hall just a while ago, and I haven't yet stopped crying since. Maybe after I post this, I'll try to go to bed. I have to work at 1:30 Friday afternoon. And maybe in a few days or weeks, I'll try to draw a picture to remember her by.
I wish I could have stopped her.
First, it was painted blue -- my choice because blue was my sister's favorite color, and it was my way of sharing it with her. Eventually, I went with green, my own favorite color. Then, a few years ago, I relinquished the room. I don't know why. I moved into the slightly smaller southeastern room next to it. We had painted it an odd mauvish pink to match a bedspread and sheet set I had gotten for my daughter Cathie, who actually ending up living with her dad instead. But that room was a catch-all for stuff that didn't have a home downstairs, as well as a place for my first computer. One summer, while I was still working at WKU Campus Child Care, I slept in there a lot. I think the sounds of the crickets at night and the pool filter outside through the open windows was soothing to me. I was writing a lot at the time. Are you surprised that I was writing the great American novel? I'd been working on it since the age of thirteen.
But I think the most breathtaking thing about the pink room was the sunrise. When daylight hit those pink walls, the room was aglow. It was magic. In a house with 11- and 12-foot ceilings and several north-facing windows, it was filled with light. It was amazing.
Maybe that's why I wanted to be in there. There are other reasons which I frequently ponder, but no one can tell me if my answers are correct. I do not know.
Today -- well, it's early AM on Friday, as I finish writing this, so that's yesterday -- I was working on my shops, twittering, modding the CP board. My computer desk is located in the green room now.
Chewy had been making little worried noises, over on the bed Cathie had temporarily left here, on the other side of my monitor. Those flea allergies -- even one bite could cause grief. I decided I needed to give her another bath soon, although she looked better than she had in months. Cathie had clipped her shaggy hair and given her a bath a week or so before.
"Chewy's a good baby," I said softly, and she wagged her stumpy spaniel tail at the sound of my voice. Chewy has been developing cataracts, something I hadn't expected for her age. She is the fourth cocker we have owned -- no, the fifth, since we owned one when I was a baby -- but this was my first encounter with cataracts in my dogs.
About 3:30, I heard Cathie's voice calling upstairs to me, with a note of alarm in her voice.
"Mom!"
I responded, but I went to the stairway, knowing she wouldn't hear me otherwise. Sometimes I think my voice is "invisible," except to E.J.
"Chewy's dead!" Cathie shouted. I knew it couldn't be true. She'd just been there a bit earlier. I hadn't even heard her leave the room. I rushed downstairs. Barefoot, I went outside to see her across the little one-lane steet from our driveway. Chewy was lying in the grass next to the pavement, still warm, but not breathing. I lifted her head, felt her silken chocolate curls beneath my fingers, and didn't want to believe she was gone. I wanted to hold her and comfort her.
Dusty is our cute little Shih Tzu/Peke mix, mostly white with buff-colored points, who can be seen in my shop here: Too Cute for the Dog House. And Winky is the handsome Basset/Beagle mix who posed for this design: Love You Forever. I just hadn't ever gotten around to doing a drawing of Chewy.
As nearly as we can put together, Mom had gone outside to look for Dusty, and Chewy had gone along to take care of her business (so to speak). Mom didn't notice her go out. Then Chewy followed Dusty, who has a bad habit of squeezing out from under our ancient chain link fence. Dusty can see fairly well, though. Chewy could not. A neighbor woman saw an old man driving through hit Chewy, then get out to see if she was okay. He moved her out of the road, but didn't ask around to find her owner.
I guess I should be glad it wasn't one of the children who live in our neighborhood, like my grandson. But I can't find anything about this situation to make me feel glad.
Paul and I spent over an hour digging a hole in a grassy area of the back yard where we buried her beneath the tall trees. I wept intermittently.
I would be going about doing things the rest of the evening and suddenly tear up again. There has been too much sadness and death in the world lately -- much of which touched me -- without its coming into my own personal life.
Now I'm sitting at the desk in the green room, typing at the keyboard, expecting to feel the soft furriness of my little brown shadow rub against my bare feet, thinking I might be required to fuss at her for accidentally turning off the power strip. But that isn't going to happen tonight. I came across her fleecy little doggie bed out in the hall just a while ago, and I haven't yet stopped crying since. Maybe after I post this, I'll try to go to bed. I have to work at 1:30 Friday afternoon. And maybe in a few days or weeks, I'll try to draw a picture to remember her by.
I wish I could have stopped her.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Don't Forget
While I'm thinking about it, Demi Lovato's video "Don't Forget," currently getting lots of play on the Disney Channel, will always remind me of New Moon. I read that Demi has expressed a willingness to record music for the movie. I wondered if she was thinking about Bella and Edward when she co-wrote this.
This is the full version. The one I'm accustomed to watching is much shorter.
This is the full version. The one I'm accustomed to watching is much shorter.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Catching Up
Hi again. It's Lorilei.
Yeah, I know, I haven't written. I really meant to, but I've been so busy, out having fun.
Yes, I know. I'm a terrible liar.
So, what have I been doing? Let's see....
I've read the first two books in the Twilight Saga. Yes, I enjoy them, though I still prefer Harry Potter. But that's apples & oranges, to me, because no other books are HP, any more than they are Jane Austen.
Doesn't matter. I can't wait to read Eclipse. I just can't figure out how it will all end. I believe in love, but I think the unabated obsession from New Moon is just downright unhealthy. Yeah, I know what I'm talkin' 'bout, Willis. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. It still didn't stop me from crying for Bella. I'm a terribly empathetic person.
But, good golly Miss Molly, that chick is a magnet for pain, grief, and all kinds of bad news. And isn't there enough drama here? Sheesh, Simpson County could be the Forks of the midsouth. I just can't decide which are the werewolves and which are the vampires around these parts.
For a while, my daughter Cathie was trying to be a kind person, and to head off future repercussions with EJ, by setting up supervised visitation with He Who Must Not Be Named.
Yes, there's more. But the divorce is final, and EJ doesn't have to go for visits. Now the rest of the drama in my life can assume its usual place. Like the issues with my son and his former roommate. Ah, yes. They were introduced by Cathie's ex-DH. She was obsessed with DH after she slept with him, while Cathie was deployed, and DH decided to foist her off on someone else. But that's a story for another entry... or two....
BTW, much of this story has been edited out. I'm saving the storyline for my upcoming Great American Novel. But, seriously, the names have been omitted to protect the innocent. And other interested parties. And because I was tired of my blog being a place I didn't like to go anymore. So, as of January 2, 2013, this sucker is edited.
Yeah, I know, I haven't written. I really meant to, but I've been so busy, out having fun.
Yes, I know. I'm a terrible liar.
So, what have I been doing? Let's see....
I've read the first two books in the Twilight Saga. Yes, I enjoy them, though I still prefer Harry Potter. But that's apples & oranges, to me, because no other books are HP, any more than they are Jane Austen.
Doesn't matter. I can't wait to read Eclipse. I just can't figure out how it will all end. I believe in love, but I think the unabated obsession from New Moon is just downright unhealthy. Yeah, I know what I'm talkin' 'bout, Willis. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. It still didn't stop me from crying for Bella. I'm a terribly empathetic person.
But, good golly Miss Molly, that chick is a magnet for pain, grief, and all kinds of bad news. And isn't there enough drama here? Sheesh, Simpson County could be the Forks of the midsouth. I just can't decide which are the werewolves and which are the vampires around these parts.
For a while, my daughter Cathie was trying to be a kind person, and to head off future repercussions with EJ, by setting up supervised visitation with He Who Must Not Be Named.
Yes, there's more. But the divorce is final, and EJ doesn't have to go for visits. Now the rest of the drama in my life can assume its usual place. Like the issues with my son and his former roommate. Ah, yes. They were introduced by Cathie's ex-DH. She was obsessed with DH after she slept with him, while Cathie was deployed, and DH decided to foist her off on someone else. But that's a story for another entry... or two....
BTW, much of this story has been edited out. I'm saving the storyline for my upcoming Great American Novel. But, seriously, the names have been omitted to protect the innocent. And other interested parties. And because I was tired of my blog being a place I didn't like to go anymore. So, as of January 2, 2013, this sucker is edited.
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