February 27, 2003
February 25, 2003
Cracking Ice
I love this picture that I took of the sickly hound this week, so I am bound to share it, especially for the orange/sepia treatment.
For a month or more Mark and I have grown to appreciate how ignorant we are of his illness, and it continues to evolve. My severly fatalistic, overly Verdi-influenced soul has been at the plunge-yourself-over-the-balcony stage a couple of times recently because of this. Three hours in a fetal position last week might just define stress, eh? I should be in New Orleans, flashing my flab.
Simultaneously my seemingly intrinsic passion for the web and blogging has been tested as of late. A hobby and a profession can only infrequently line up together for a common good, let alone to specifically benefit me. And can I honestly own up to that expectation anyway?
Driving in to work on the expressway this morning... there was an unexpected sound from the back seat. It was sporadic and alarming. I stopped the car... only to realize it was the ice breaking away between the doors and windows, and falling away. But then again there is metaphorical cracking ice all around me. Work. Family. Friends.
I long again to connect with lost friends from the past. If this is a mid life crisis in the making I can only apologize in advance for my expected dithering. Pitiable that I find this ice cracking metaphor relevant...
February 17, 2003
Meeting A Rama
Meetings? More meetings? Do they have to be two+ hours?
Sad that they rhyme with beatings, because that is all too frequently what they end up becoming.
Lurching home on the expressway, in the snow, taking twice as long as possibly expected, it occurred to me that I am responsible yet again for defining my sources of joy.
Why the hell isn’t that on some freaking splash page? Oh dear am I feisty…
go read here, where vomiting dogs make for heartfelt connections. You should all be so fortunate as to have someone you have held in such high regard noticing your canine consternation.
Still, fuck mondays overall.
February 16, 2003
Glamour Shot
As if.
Here we are... with a lightened feeling. Things aren't that bad... you love and you have love.
Working on perfecting the goulash today. Singing is so much like cooking. We work on songs... but as a cook that song just might be chicken marsala... or a sublime hot and sour soup. Food becomes love when it is inspired.
Go and call your mother and ask her how to make you favorite recipe!
February 15, 2003
Car Wash
Bright sun. The weekend. The lack of in-office time.
Twenty-five minutes in line to get the car washed. 44 years to know what matters. Life is a cocktail mixed every day. I urge to include a twist in your order.
email brings a reciprocal handshake. There are wonderful people out there... talk to them!
A crack has appeared in the salty dry and frozen landscape, and the light is leaking through.
February 14, 2003
Escape
I took this picture of the lilac bush in the backyard in the spring of 2001, when talk of terroists was mostly limited to congressional hearings.
Deep cleansing is needed... spring is coming. Breathe in... slowly.
Change is constant. Learn to love it and accept it as a constant.
He got me a lovely box of chocolates... but I served up a nice cable-knit sweater, two sets of underwear (one covered with canadian maple leafs), a home cooked shrimp cocktail and steak dinner AND chocolates.
Life without a love is dancing with no music. Lucky for me... my love is musical.
Ice Chest
Week after week it remains frigid; bitter days come one after another, with no sign of this relenting soon. I have stopped checking the weather forecast because there doesn't seem to be a reason...
And here it is Valentine's Day, the celebration rich in overpriced flowers and chocolate and the worst day to dine out in the city of your choice. When I was working as a pastry chef about 75 years ago I can remember the incessant ringing of the phone as the day approached. The calls were completely futile, as we had been booked solid for that evening for two months in advance.
Now I feel as if there are no reservations to be had for me. I have created an ice chest that feels like a prison. I cannot seem to make a difference at work. Sure we can launch a new web site. Yawn. But I need to make more of a difference.
Things are tenuous and febrile. Everything seems like it is ready to break... and the incessant talk of war and terror drones on in the background. The usual soul filling sources that I have come to depend on; music, opera and art have drifted off my radarscope. All I hear is a tinny echo.
February 3, 2003
No Picture
Last night I set up the new camera on the new tripod and took some pictures of myself. What I saw when I examined them was not a surprise. In my eyes I see resignation. Where is my inspiration these days?
In the past it came from cooking. And then it was gotten from the racy thrills of computer technology, especially the Internet and networking. And finally, after all those years of solitude I got my inspiration again from being in love with someone.
I still have many pictures to take, inspiration will come again.