Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Bad translation video

Someone sent me this link awhile back of a woman who takes song lyrics, puts them through several languages on Google translator, and then back into English. I checked it out half-heartedly; oh, I'm so glad I did.

But hype can ruin things, so maybe you'll enjoy this too:

Bad Translation: Let it Go

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Look! It's the brown truck!

It's like Santa Claus coming to your house!

I ordered something last week and tracking shows it's out for delivery! So I'm staring at the page, reloading it periodically, to see if it's at my house yet. So right now I'm like this:


But soon -- soon! -- I will be this person:



Of course, it would be better if I was home to get the package right into my greedy hands instead of having to wait the long drive home. Who knows? Maybe I will; it says arrival by the end of the day. What's that?

The fun thing is that I ordered something else and THAT arrives tomorrow! Right now, I'm greedy and want it all today! But it does give me something to look forward to. Whee!!


Thursday, July 7, 2016

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

More Steve Hanks

I posted years ago about a print by Steve Hanks my mother got me:

I had found it and printed it out to show her because, believe it or not, the girl in it looks just like me at that age.  I even had a similar bathing suit.  And at the age, I kept asking Mom to show me how to make castles like that where you drizzle the sand with some water through your fingertips.  I couldn’t do it; clumps would drop down like bombs onto the castle and she tried to show me again, until I’d basically do the body and she’d do the towers.  I felt so triumphant the day I finally could do it myself.

Once I lost my mom, the memories and feelings the print represents has a whole other layer.  Which is why this one floored me:
I don't know how I missed this one when I found the other. But there I am again, this time playing with the edge of the waves. My mom would stand in this spot while she watched us; the water would bury her feet in the sand. That fascinated me for some reason, so I'd stand there too and watch my feet disappear further and further. If I had to really pull at them to unbury, it was some kind of triumph. I don't know why. Because I stood so long? Because they were so deep, deeper than anybody around me?

I need to get this print at some point and put it next to the other. But I really wish I could call my mom and tell her.


Thursday, June 30, 2016

Now that's a motorcycle!

I have never seen anything like it before.  We were at Toni's Treats in Malaga and I saw it parked there. I had to take pictures!




Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Eight years

Eight years with no mom.

Eight years.

That doesn't sound like a big deal, if you haven't lived it yourself. If you have lived it, you know.

It's more than a big deal. It's huge and painful and sad.

It's hitting me harder this year than last year; it hurt then too, but it's more of that hollow ache that drags you down this year. I don't know why.

Whatever the reason, I hurt. A lot. I want everyone and everything to go away. I can't think of the work I have to do, which makes it harder and adds to the urge to shove it all away. I just keep thinking about it and wishing.

What if the doctor was right and she wouldn't have died if she hadn't taken me out for my birthday?

And why didn't I take a few seconds to kiss her goodbye before running out of the car?

Why didn't I understand what the other doctor was telling me?

Why? Why? Why?

I hurt.