Meri's Musings

This little guy has to be my favorite bird of all time. Don't you think he should be named Twinkletoes?

Windows. . .  so expressive and metaphorical don't you think? Some, like people, shuttered and closed off. Some are vantage points -  a place to satisfy curiosity to observe anonymously to get the lay of the land before participating. And some just reflect the beauty around them. I have to say that this photo makes me very proud. It was jury selected for a show called "Give Us Your Best Shot" that was featured at Tacoma's Museum of Glass. It's the only creation I've ever had shown in a museum.

Reading.

Aqua colander filled with apples. Umbrella and jackets outside Newgrange. Mexico sky. Sculpture in early morning light. The rim of a margarita glass. Selfie with layers. The best senior photo I've ever taken (in a graffiti garage. . .  and yes, he was full of mischief and rebellion)

Pamper yourself. Take a leisurely walk  in a beautiful garden. Light a candle on an altar. Dance like no one is watching (they're probably too blitzed to watch. . .  or remember) Let the waiter bring you a drink with an umbrella in it while you watch the men. Eat scrumptious food, with a beautiful presentation. Have dessert (share it with a friend). Listen to the waves roll in. Relax. Play. and laugh a whole lot. 

In the distance.

Hope. I hope for another dose of love in my life because

Hands.

I would never surf. I almost drowned when I was five. I remember the feeling of being pinned underwater, unable to surface, my lungs feeling on fire. I learned to swim -- sort of -- but my face never goes in the water. I take showers. I'd never try a flotation tank. And the idea of wiping out, of having a huge wave crash down on my body. . . .  well, that's too much to handle. I can watch, however, as someone else dances with waves. I just know it'll never be me. Not in this lifetime.

I always thought that I was more a cat person than a dog person. Until this little Havanese bundle of joy came into my life. When I brought her home, she weighed 2.5 pounds. Now, at four, she weighs about 14 pounds. She's extravagant and exuberant in love-giving. She's extremely talkative (she carries on growl conversations with a toy in her mouth). She flattens herself down so she can lie under the leather ottoman. She prefers to sleep perched on a pile of pillows. She's given up trying to chase the rabbits in the yard because she knows they'll always outrun her. She was clueless enough to try to chase a doe  out of our yard (I had to intervene because the doe was having none of it). She sleeps on her back,  paws outstretched, confident that she's always safe and loved. And she is.

This kid makes me laugh. From his exuberance to his crazy outfit choices he's one of a kind. I love it when he says, "I want to ask you a question" and then makes a statement. He hasn't quite got the questioning part down. He's a master of prolonging the going-to-sleep routine when his mom and dad are out for the evening. His dad never did that. His dad was perfect. Or maybe my memory is failing.

As I approach yet another birthday, I'm celebrating the younger me. Without her, I wouldn't have grown into the woman I am today. Pensive. Thoughtful. Creative. Possessed of hard-earned wisdom. and blessed with the pixie dust of mischief.