Tag: friends

Happy birthday, Lisa!

Inspired by the badger video, this is the cake I made yesterday for a belated birthday celebration for rhondarubin. I’m sure Rhonda won’t mind sharing it with Lisa (dogrl), whose birthday is today. I can’t believe in a few hours I’ll see Lisa in New Orleans!

I can’t believe I’m up this early.

It’s not because we’re about to hit the road, but because I have an eight a.m. appointment. I’m not sure what time we’re leaving today for the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival, but as longtime readers of my LJ know, I’ll find a way to update even though I’m on the road. I’m not like that slacker markgharris.

To all my LJ friends

Only LiveJournal members can support a nomination to the LJ Advisory Board. As it happens, Timothy J. Lambert and his running mate, Rexford G. Lambert, are hoping you will support Timothy’s nomination to the Advisory Board. His key issues are creativity, content, inclusiveness, and goofy dog pictures. You can read his self-nomination speech and vote for him at this link right here.

As you know, in Becky World, it’s all about Tim, and it doesn’t hurt that he has a cool dog. Thanks for your support, and you are more than welcome to ask your LJ friends to support Timothy’s nomination.

Monday night

Monday night after a visit with my mother, I was supposed to run errands, but I just didn’t feel like it. I wanted to be home. When I came in the back door, I was fiddling around while Tom got Tim so we could all watch Y&R. When Tom came back in, he asked if I’d been in the living room yet.

I hadn’t. I immediately knew why he’d asked, but I delayed gratification as long as I could, because I knew it was going to be wonderful.

and it is

Various whatever kind of stuff

First, this photo makes me SMILE until my face hurts.

I love to see my friends laugh, and that’s a genuine Tim laugh happening here even though I was tormenting him with my camera.

Second, Wednesday, something rare was spotted in the Galleria:

Yeah, flowers, that’s nice, but there are always flowers in the Galleria.

Um, no, although this Nordstrom window IS the inspiration for a scene in Someone Like You, a title that makes me think of Mark G. Harris for some reason, and although it IS the place where I fell in love with a mannequin many years ago, I didn’t find it very exciting on Wednesday.

Speaking of things that remind me of Mark G. Harris, while I was waiting for my glasses the other day, I shot a photo of this spot in the Galleria.

The ice rink where friends Alex and Aaron from The Deal like to go to get in touch with their inner Tonya Hardings children.

Will I ever get to the point?

Shorn lamb(ert)

Timothy J. Lambert and I got haircuts today. Maybe if you ask nicely, he’ll let me post a picture.

Since I had the Kodak with me, I CAN show you what was on the floor after his cut.

In other news, the dogs and I are awaiting the gas company. The dogs so they can bark. Me so I can put my mind at ease about what I swear is the smell of gas behind my house. I’ll update this breaking story as there are developments.

I have various photos I’ve been wanting to post. I’ll get on that later. As well as a my-experience-with-a-book post Mark and Marika asked for. Because I’m just that cooperative.

To be continued…

Cleaning House

It’s probably a fool’s task to write a post that won’t be read by its intended audience or, even if it is, will be willfully misunderstood because it won’t agree with preconceptions about who’s who and what’s what. But I’m a writer for a reason. Writing is my chosen way to communicate. It’s my way of working through my thoughts and ideas. Writing is the place where I feel the most comfortable—the most at home. As I said in an earlier post, this is my time of year to reflect and clean the house named Becky.

LiveJournal has been, for over three years, a room in my home. If you’ve read me for any length of time, you understand that my actual, physical home—what we call The Compound—is my sanctuary. It’s not only where I live and celebrate living with my family and my friends, it’s also where I work. It’s important to me to keep it in order, to keep it peaceful, clear of negativity, strife, and turmoil.

I can’t always do that. Life is messy; I understand this. To some degree, I embrace life’s messes, accidents, sudden turnabouts, because I want to learn from them, to blend them into who I am and how I view the world, and of course, if for no other reason that makes sense to me, because those things can be quite useful in fiction. Other writers understand this: You can never turn it off. Whatever’s happening in front of you—horrible or wonderful—there’s a little voice in your head that says, How can I use this?

Oddly, I see that as a blessing. It provides a place for detachment, for pulling back and seeing a bigger picture, for not being overwhelmed by the moment. However, I’m not a writing machine. I’m human and just as susceptible to shock, cruelty, discord, and unkindness as any other human being.

What does all this have to do with LiveJournal?

Some suckage, with a happy ending

Remember how long I put off buying my new camera, but I finally decided that I wanted a reward for finishing A COVENTRY WEDDING (okay, a PRE-reward, but who’s counting), and I wanted to have enough time with the camera to get comfortable using it before Saints & Sinners in May.

On Thursday, an INCIDENT with the camera left the pop-up flash inoperative. It would still pop up, but wouldn’t fire. I went by the store where I bought it, but they were closed, so I had a bad night worrying about it on top of my other things to worry about. (I try to keep plenty of those going; how else will I look YEARS older than 35?)

On Friday, I had some unpleasant business to take care of, but I also made a trip to the camera shop after calling them. First, Camera Guy gave me the news I most dreaded hearing: camera must be shipped to Nikon for repair. After I got all basset-hound eyed, another person came and looked at it, just in case, but he agreed. Then I asked if we could try putting a separate flash attachment on it. If that worked, I’d buy the flash, take the camera to New Orleans, and upon my return, happily surrender the camera to Nikon for repair.

At first, Number 2 Camera Guy thought it didn’t work because he couldn’t make the camera shoot at all. Ahem. I reached over and removed the lens cap.

SUCCESS! The new flash worked! When I was handing over my credit card, Camera Guy asked me why I had two driver’s licenses, and I told him one was expired. He [jokingly] offered to take it off my hands so he could sell it to some underage chick who wanted to look, uh, 35 when she went out drinking. To protect any remaining Bush grandkids (hey, my concern for America’s youth is bi-partisan), I took his scissors and cut up the old license.

I paid for the flash, went on my happy way, and took care of that other worrisome stuff. On my way home, after taking out a loan so I could put gas in Jet (it’s cheaper to buy camera equipment these days than to keep a car full of gas, and my SUV is FUEL-EFFICIENT, so no lectures), I called Lindsey. She and Rhonda were game to come over for take-out, non-Passover violating food from Barnaby’s, so I COULD have had a pleasant evening.

Except…once I got the camera home and began looking through the viewfinder, everything seemed all blurry. I thought maybe the INCIDENT had done more than disable my flash, so I got all panicked. When Lindsey arrived and looked through the viewfinder, she then glanced at me like I was maybe a little crazy. I tried it again. No camera: I could see all right. Camera in front of my face: everything blurry. Though I’d never had to do this with the D40 or any other camera before, I had to put on my glasses to see clearly through the viewfinder.

Lindsey suggested stress was blurring my vision. Tim got this LOOK on his face, and when I questioned him, he said, “You think?” Then he told me I was doing a good imitation of Regis when he gets all worked up about something. I told him he could only call me Regis if he pretended to be Kathie Lee and told me stories about Cody. He declined.

Anyway, at about 3 a.m., as I lay in bed convinced that I had 201 incurable eye diseases, I suddenly remembered there’s some kind of little switch next to the viewfinder. I made a mental note to check that out, but didn’t get out of bed because a huge storm was rolling in and Margot was already tucked between my feet under the covers trembling.

But I did check it this morning. It’s something called a “diopter adjustment” switch. When I changed it, I could suddenly see again! It was a miracle, just like the first Photography Miracle! When I told Lindsey, she wondered why she could see through it okay but it was blurry for me. I suggested that her young eyes may adapt and refocus more readily than mine, which is when she reminded me that I’m only 35.

So I’m still keeping my eye appointment this afternoon. But I wanted to post what turned out to be a non-story because of this diopter switch if for no other reason than to spare Mr. Puterbaugh, who bought the same model camera, a future incident of screaming, “My eyes! My eyes!” Because no one may be around to make him laugh by calling him Regis.

Apologize

I’ve been spending a lot of time in my car lately (this is unusual), so I’ve been hearing a lot of radio (also unusual). I like the sound of Timbaland’s “Apologize” enough to have checked out the video, which I also like. I just disagree with the sentiment. It’s never too late to apologize. Though I think an insincere, forced, or manipulative apology is worse than no apology at all, a true apology can be healing for the giver and the receiver.

What an apology might not do is return things to the way they were “before.” I learned this after I apologized to someone who was dying, and then again after he was dead. Did he forgive me the first time? Hear me the second time? I’ll never know, but I still needed to do it.

Even if the person who receives the apology is still around, s/he may feel like it’s better to accept the apology and move on, lesson learned. Some things, once broken, are gone for good. Maybe an apology just smooths out the jagged edges so they’re not so painful.

The last couple of weeks of April and the first couple of weeks of May are my annual time of reflection. Maybe I need a spring cleaning of the soul every year.

ETA: Years later, I realized this song by One Republic became a favorite. Funny how things can change. Though I still say it’s never too late to apologize. (5/23/14)