Costume, Shmostume

In honor of the day, a very lovely and mostly black cat. Happy Halloween!

My Brother

I miss him. And probably always will. I have memories and photos and connections with those he loved. I have a canister of his ashes and his Blues Brothers tshirt. When he married he gave me a sister. I loved him dearly and didn't have nearly enough time with him. This is the hardest goodbye I have ever known.

My Sisters

Pamela Jean and Miss Martine

What could possibly be better than comfy jammies, a bottle of Layer Cake Malbec and the company of your sisters? More of all of the above. And just a bit more for dessert. And chocolate. And whipped cream. Yes.

Thursday?

Is it Thursday already? And am I cleaning my house? No! I'm having a glass of wine and dinking around on the computer! Just above you will see evidence that it was just a tad chilly in the house when I got home yesterday.

And, no, it's not chilly because I leave the refrigerator standing open all the time. I cleaned it out and it's so sparkly and pretty I just had to show you!

This is why I don't buy expensive kitty treats for Newton and Einstein. They sniff, nibble a bit, and walk away. Not that I blame them, I'd rather have tuna, too. Oh, I had a coupon for a free can. Ungrateful little bastards.

Weekend supplies. And, yes, since you asked, there was a case discount. We shall enjoy responsibly.

Who Is That Handsome Young Man?

There he is, the younger son. Also known as Reid. We recently went through that painful, character building senior ritual known as, Having The Senior Portrait Taken. I think the results are quite nice. But then, I'm not particularly objective where he's concerned. Goes with the Mom territory. I think I showed some restraint in posting only 5 of 177 images.

Beer Flood

For those of you who think poetry is all high-brow and snooty, or that Public Broadcasting is the same, read this. If you were ever wondering what it is that highbrow, snooty, PBS fans talk about in hushed, serious tone, you are now enlightened. They talk about beer. Or other booze. It's all booger and fart jokes, y'all, just with a much better vocabulary. Most of them are English majors, you know, which enables them, with their advanced degrees, to query of you ,if, indeed, you would like fries with that. Or if you would prefer the $1 upgrade to a premium side, such as the onion rings. I don't know about you, but I'm running right out to get a POEM tshirt.

Out of The Anonimity Closet

Ooh, is it easier to breathe out here? Brighter? Less cramped? It was never my intention to write this blog anonymously. It just kind of, well, happened that way. And I wasn't sure how I could write about my life without occasionally mentioning my sons. I began to refer to them by their ages, which can be tricky, since it keeps changing all the time. And I sound so very much more exotic as Bellona of Avalon than as my real name, which as many of you who actually know me, is Carla. Since I blew the elder son's cover on Saturday by referring to him as Michael, all of us may as well step out into the light. The 17yo, when asked if it was okay if Mom named him in her infamous blog, said okay. He shall henceforth be called Reid in this space. Which also happens to be his given name. Sometimes I call him other, less flattering things, which I reserve the right to do at times since he remains a 17yo boy and does things that 17yo boys do. And thereby earns those less-flattering references. To recap, hello, I'm Carla, aka Bellona of Avalon, my goddess name. The elder son is Michael, the younger son is Reid. The cats have always been Newton and Einstein. The various beasties who reside in my anxiety closet have mostly been identified, named, and either banished or tamed. The garden gnomes who live outside in the back yard are Edgar and Vladimir. And I thought it was crowded in the closet.

Winter?

My back yard this morning. Chicken soup seems in order, Michael and Liz will be here in about an hour. I'm listening to A Prairie Home Companion, sipping shiraz, and making soup, all at the same time. I am the Queen of multi-tasking. Oh, and happy birthday to John. I think brownies for dessert are in order.

Gordon Meredith Lightfoot, Jr & Tendonitis & Shiraz

I'm wearing a thumb and wrist stablizing splint on my right hand. For my tendonitis and possible carpal tunnel issues. My left hand feels left out, as it's not working at 100%, either. Perhaps that is the fate of the left hand, and why it is so named. It will be interesting to see if I can do anything at work tomorrow while it's on. Gordon Lightfoot was quite amazing. Great back-up band, these guys have been playing together for twenty or so years. Mr. Lightfoot's vocal abilities are somewhat diminished and I wonder if that is related to his life threatening abdominal aortic aneurism burst seven years ago. He was in a coma for several days and had a tracheotomy, makes one wonder how that may have affected his voice. That aside, he is still a commanding stage presence with a twinkle in his eye. I enjoyed the concert immensely. I didn't know that the song, If You Could Read My Mind, was written about his own personal experience with going through a divorce. No wonder it tears me up and reminds me of mine. That's what remarkable artists do, though. Channel their pain through their personal creative filter and come up with magic. Magic accessible to others. Tigh just called and knows I'm drinking at home tonight. I wonder if he'll show up with friends. They'll probably want to try on my splint. I'll allow it, just as long as they don't get between me and the Fish Eye shiraz.

Baby Spiders

Aren't they cute? And so appropriate for Halloween's month! Actually, there was a frost warning two nights ago and I wanted to root out some of the baby spiders from the big potted plant in the back yard. And it occurred to me that the ideal container for such a project is, tada!, an ice cube tray! Baby spiders. Halloween. October. And Gordon Lightfoot in less than twenty-four hours! Life is good.