Author: Becky

Just a Saturday

Every day, I seem to feel a little and do a little better. If I could tame the dragon formed from my anxious thoughts, maybe it would go easier. But I mostly live in the real world; the unreal world is for managing characters’ anxieties, not mine.

For a long time after last year’s freeze, I thought our ruellia was gone, but it did come back. We had some cool trellises out there, but they were so tall that other vines and weeds took them over and were smothering our beautiful purple flowers. Tom cut all that out and put up some lighter, shorter fencing to give support to the plants we want.

It has a bit of a wild look, but we think that’s what makes it attractive to the butterflies and hummingbirds that visit in season.

I’ve mentioned before that in October, I do a daily Instagram post with my skeleton, Lord Cuttlebone, who I’ve shown on here a couple of times in previous years. This year, he was wearing an Astros tiara from Lindsey and Rhonda’s stash of costumes and goodies when the Astros won their first playoff game. At that point, I was told by Lindsey that he had to wear the tiara every night the Astros played. He did–and it seemed to work because they swept the playoffs, beating the Yankees four games in a row. Which meant, I was told, that he must continue to wear it every day there’s a World Series game against the Phillies.

I photographed him with it yesterday for that first game–and the Astros lost! I asked if that meant he should stop wearing it, but Rhonda said NO! Since there’s another game tonight, I shot a selfie with him today for my Instagram, and I’m putting it here to explain my mask.

Actor/entertainer/comedian/singer Leslie Jordan, who unexpectedly died this week, was a HUGE part of keeping my spirits up in 2020, the first year of the pandemic. I followed him, and kept following him, on Instagram for his “pillow talk” videos, which often began, “Well, shit… How y’all doin’?” When he started selling merchandise, I ordered that mask. As I said on Instagram, each time I wore it on my rare outings, I felt like a little of Leslie went with me, because it always made people laugh.

Like millions, I’m going to miss all the laughter and kindness he brought to each day. He’s one of the rare testaments that social media can be used for good.

Tiny Tuesday!

While I’m not writing and have low energy, I’m doing small projects slowly. One is that I have a lot of photo albums (thirty-eight right now) on shelves in Lynne’s room, and whenever I go looking for photos, it’s anyone’s guess how many I’ll pull out before I find the year I’m looking for.

No more. They’re all labeled with dates now, unless dates are irrelevant, when they’re labeled with something that lets me know their contents. This will make future usage of old photos a lot more efficient.

This is not one of the photos in those albums, maybe, but it’s one in my Flickr account. Whenever I want to think of a photo I’ve taken over the years that makes me happy, this one often comes to mind. It’s from November 2010, when David Puterbaugh came to visit, and Tim and he are walking wee Hanley away from the Menil Museum.

What a beautiful day with people I love.

Button Sunday

Sunday mornin’ comin’ down…

I’ve heard many stories through the years about what a stand-up guy Kris Kristofferson is, and I hope they’re all true. Recently, Jerry Lee Lewis couldn’t be present when he was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame because he’s ill in the hospital. Kris accepted for him and later visited Lewis in the hospital to deliver his Hall of Fame award in person.

Kindness matters.

ETA on 10/28/22: Jerry Lee Lewis has since died.

Saturdays…

Teenage me. Still have that bookcase on the left side of the photo. Still have that footlocker I’m sitting on. Still have one of the mushrooms on that bookcase on the right, and most of the books that I recognize. Of course I still have Dr. Neil, my Teddy bear. Photo by Lynne.

Not sure what your Saturdays were like as a teen, but especially in my early teens (i.e., before the driver’s license years), after I got up and did whatever it was my mother had on her agenda (housekeeping things, so I’d dust or clean a bathroom, or whatever), my late mornings and afternoons were mine. Sometimes I went walking in the woods. If I was lucky, Lynne had spent the night, and we’d hang out talking about everything, including our characters, and maybe doing crafty stuff like collages, and records would always be on my record player.

If I was alone, I’d read, and if I didn’t feel like reading, I’d lie on my bed and listen to albums start to finish in the order that they were intended to be heard.

That’s what I’m doing today, though it’s with CDs and an old boom box. I’m not thinking about all the things I should do (they are always plentiful). I’m not multitasking. I have on a particular box set I got last year, which I’ve listened to, but this time, I’m doing nothing else. Just lying on the bed in the sanctuary (where so much of my youth and youthful interests surround me), occasionally looking up lyrics on my phone so I can sing along, and just absorbing music.

It’s a form of self-care, giving yourself permission to act like you’re young and don’t have a million worries and responsibilities. Also, when you sing, really sing along, it’s good for your lungs. You breathe out more than you breathe in. It clears you physically and spiritually. I’ve been prescribed breathing treatments, and I’m doing them, though they leave me crazy jittery. However, singing-along breathing is good, too. Go ahead: Google “Is singing good for your lungs?” and find the many answers, oh ye who like to do your own research.

Happy Saturday.