Excuse me, have we met?

I know, I know — It’s been over a week since I posted anything and probably even longer since I commented on any of your blogs. I have no explanations to offer, well none that would justify such behavior, so what do you say, we just let this one slide? Okay?

I have been reading your blogs — not daily, like I normally do — but I have finally gotten caught up. The thing is, since I had literally hundreds of posts to get through, I failed to stop and take the time to actually comment on any of them.

So, to make amends, here are some of the things I wanted to say but didn’t. Pick and choose the one(s) you like and consider them yours. Free of charge. And I do solemnly swear to do better by you in the month of March.

• Love your new blog!
• Congrats on your photo being shown in a museum!
• I can’t believe it’s been a year already!
• I know, don’t you hate that?
• Happy Blogiversary!
• I’m sorry that happened to you
• You are so cool!
• I like the second one.
• What a wonderful thing to do…you’re extremely gracious.
• I can’t believe your husband closed the cat in the wall! BTW – love the paint colors!
• Hope you feel better soon…
• Vulcan? Really? Are you sure he’s serious?
• I have no idea but what about having him make growling sounds (Grrrr!) to see if the ‘r’ sound comes out then. If it does, try grrrr, grrrrowl, grrrround, grrrreat. Maybe once he gets used to the way the ‘r’ feels, he’ll say it in all his ‘r’ words…?

Oh, and Derek of 9 Months is back! He and wife Tracy have started a new blog to talk about life with baby boy, Calvin. They are just getting started but go check it out…

On the bookshelf, #8

The Ha-Ha, by Dave King

I have to admit it. If Rude Cactus recommends a book, I am very likely to read it. Anybody who reads as many books as he does over the course of a year surely knows what he’s talking about, right? As it turns out, he does.

This is the story of Howard, a Viet Nam veteran, who suffered severe head trauma on his 16th day overseas and subsequently lost his ability to speak, read, and write. In the 30 years since, he has learned to communicate in his own way — gestures and grunts, mostly — and his life consists of lawn maintenance at the local convent and renting out the spare rooms in his childhood home to three tenants. The reader is led to believe that while these four live in the same home, they simply co-exist and don’t really interact much.

Then everything changes. Sylvia, Howard’s strung-out high school girlfriend, is talked into rehab by her sister. She needs someone to watch her 9-year old son, Ryan, while she’s away. Since Howard is the one person who has always been there for her, naturally she turns to him.

The book chronicles the eight weeks that Ryan lived with Howard and his roommates and the eight weeks following Sylvia’s release from rehab — and in that short span of time, all their lives changed beyond anything they could have imagined.

This is a book that teaches. I lost count of all the little “life lessons” it brought forth in the guise of a really well-written little novel. Treating disabled people with respect and sensitivity, showing respect for military veterans, defining what a family really is, letting go of what you think you want in order to get what you really need…all these things come through in this book. It isn’t what I would call a “feel good” story but it is certainly a “live good” story.

I should probably go see the movie, huh?

In my mail today, I received an invitation to have lunch with Chris Gardner. That Chris Gardner. In March. In Peoria. For free.

I have to do it, right?

I would never

Remember how I’m a dork? Well, in case there was any doubt…

I was watching one of those design shows on HGTV today that my DVR recorded for me. (Divine Design with Candice Olson, if you must know. She is the BEST designer on TV, IMHO. Her rooms are flawless. Elegant and classy. Totally livable and comfortable and yet full of style. And she has the best looking crew of guys — and well, that’s beside the point now isn’t it?)

Anyway, on this particular episode she was redesigning the living/dining area of a large two-story loft space. It was new construction and had very modern lines. On one side of the living area, there was a beautiful curving staircase, with oak railings and spindles. The wood was gorgeous. But she announced that in order to make the staircase fit in better with the room and to visually “lighten” that area, they would be painting all those beautiful spindles white.

Aaack! I am one of those people who gets ill when someone mentions painting wood. Not any wood, mind you — but really beautiful, well grained, rich looking wood just shouldn’t see lacquer of any kind. Well, that’s what I thought.

She was right. Painting those verticals white and leaving the railings that beautiful oaken brown, it made the staircase look a lot less heavy and overbearing in the room and helped your eye to see through to the other side.

But still. Painting real wood. I couldn’t imagine it. I would never do that in my house.

Then the episode was over and I went upstairs to bring down a load of laundry. As I ran up the stairs, I ran my hand over the oaken railing. And noticed my spindles.

Told ya! Complete and utter dork.

Snow bunny

The snowfall we’ve received, which isn’t close to the amounts dropped in the northeast, has been exaggerated by the crazy wind action we’ve had this past week. It is not unusual to see drifts a few feet high right next to bare patches of ground where green grass is poking through. My deck is no exception. On the north side of the deck, the drift runs the entire length of the deck and is just a little higher than knee-height on me. The drift gently slopes down to the south side of the deck where it is only a few inches deep.

This morning, I opened the blinds to the deck and was startled by a large rabbit staring back at me. He (I’m guessing — we really didn’t get that close) looked as though he just hopped up on the deck on the north side. He took one look at me, and in true rabbit style, bolted up the steep side of the drift, over the top, and half-hopped, half-rolled down the slope to the other side of the deck. He took one last glance back at me and hopped off to some destination in the berm.

I don’t know if he will remember the encounter, but I will forever have a different mental image when someone mentions the term “bunny slope”.