feel alive

In 1974, Phillipe Petit took a walk between the two towers of the World Trade Center on a cable 1450 feet above the street. His film, "Man On Wire", released in 2008, tells the story of this breathtaking event and is as artfully made as as any documentary I've ever seen. In another words, it is art. I highly recommend seeing it.

I'll bet 

Phillipe puts 

this on 

his omelet. 

 

goose chase

Since I began this goose chase, 

one of the biggest earthquakes in history occurred in Chile, 

a tsunami didn't quite occur in Hawaii,

 and my 90-year-old parents were buried in snow 

 without power for 3 days.

Meanwhile, the collage clue was in Bonnie's post,

And the table has been in the labels.

End of story.

Whew!

more stuff

These were willed to me by a best friend. She was a painter and a legendary multi-media artist. She never wore the shoes; she bought them at the Goodwill in San Francisco because she saw them as the beautiful objects they are. Indeed they are.

A perfect size 7.  Silk.  Couture.  Hmmm... just imagine what their story might be.

my stuff

I have some interesting stuff (don't we all?). Big things and small things, but not too many things. And every thing is a story. I have no trouble jettisoning junk, so the treasures I end up keeping undergo a harsh review. To me, it's art (in some way), or it wouldn't be here. Tell you what, I'll show you something once in a while; you make up the story. Then tell that story. Paint it. Sing it. To yourself. To us. But tell it.

Meanwhile, the boyfriend stands here waiting with his flowers. You'll see him again; he's very photogenic and holds a pose like a brick. Isn't he wonderful?

time turned on me

I had a crazy friend (that "had" would take a whole nuther post, one which would undoubtedly be libelous and would definitely spike my blood pressure) who likes to pass as a tough ol' cowgirl. As long as she's on a horse and dressed in dust, chaps and a kerchief while swearing blue lightning, you'd have to think so. Well, don't be fooled; the kerchief is French silk, and she probably bought and trained the horse in Portugal. She comes, as they say, from money. In spite of that, she has an excellent sense of the absurd, communicates easily with animals (although she's beyond pissed at the coyotes who keep eating her cats), her photography is soulful and beautiful, and because those twisted sisters, the Muses, are sometimes amused by unjust excess, she also cranks out truly admirable oil paintings. She has a very very good eye. In her spare time, she runs her ranch at 10,000 feet which you can't get to in winter and is an international horse broker. Oh, and did I mention her mellifulous ability on her marimba? As you might imagine, she's adult ADHDXYZ and as crazy as a bedbug. In my judgment, it's one of her finest attributes, but the combination of money and lunacy could make anybody sorta, well, dangerous. On second thought, okay honey, you are one tough ol' cowgirl.

Don't worry; I'm getting to the point. That tough ol' cowgirl can talk out the side of her mouth. But I swear some of what she says and how she says it would make you more than happy to die laughing. Believe me, I've come close more than once. One of my very favorite expressions of hers is, "The damn fill-in-the-blank turned on me!" Now, she could be talking about a horse, a headache, the weather, her pick-me-up truck, a piece of fish gone bad, friends and/or relatives, or one of her bankers. Really any old thing at all. It's best when the offender is an inanimate object like, "That damn rock turned on me!". In that case, what really happened was a rockslide that sent a boulder the size of an outhouse crashing down onto the roof of her truck. In her world, whatever slows you down must be at fault. Animism is invaluable when apportioning blame. You'll never have to answer to a rock in court.

I thought of her when the Time changed to Daylight Savings. More accurately, I thought of her at 4 AM when I woke up and spent the next 3 hours trying to figure out what time it really was and how much sleep I had missed. You could say arithmetic is my OCD. But, given enough time, I can do it. How ironic, seeing as how it was Time that turned on me. By the way, I also burned some fat thinking about Father Time and Mother Nature. Remind me sometime, and I'll tell you another story...