Tag: friends

Photo Friday, No. 937

Current Photo Friday theme: Ancient


Anubis, ancient god of funerary rites, protector of graves, and guide to the underworld, was portrayed in Egypt’s Early Dynastic period (circa 3100 to 2686 BC) in full animal form, with a jackal head and body.

Trivia: “Jackal” is one of my favorite words in the English language.

More trivia: If you were a “West Wing” viewer, you’ve probably never forgotten Allison Janney’s portrayal of C.J. Cregg lip-synching “The Jackal.” Allison Janney, who was really good at this, had to do it with C.J. not quite as good–all part of the fun. Seeing it again makes me want to rewatch the entire series.

ETA: It was on this date last year when Marika died. She’d have loved watching that video. “West Wing” is the show we simultaneously watched together late at night in different parts of the country, maintaining a running commentary via messaging.

Marika is missed, and I think of her often, especially when I hear INXS, Tom Petty, Elvis, Tom T Hall, Billy Idol, and Lenka. (Also–and she would bitch about this–Steve Perry/Journey.)

Happy Thanksgiving!

However you celebrate and wherever you are or with whom, I wish you a wonderful, tranquil day. I’m grateful for so many people and things, and whatever troubles me, I know my life is filled with abundance in what matters most–people (including friends and family) and dogs and a comfortable home. Because our holiday celebration is set for Sunday, we have a few days to do things around the Hall–like put up the Christmas tree! Photos to come. Lindsey and Rhonda gave me this coloring book for my birthday this spring, and I flipped through it with some of Blue Sky Boy’s suggestions in mind–including bikes and fall colors.

This is the page I chose. I always forget when I use this book to take a picture of how a page looks BEFORE I begin adding to it. But I found this unaltered photo on someone else’s site and used it (thanks, anonymous person who I don’t remember). Her photo cuts off part of the bottom, but it gives an idea of the background provided by the artist and coloring book creator, Kendra Norton.

Below is my version–I used a page of old bikes in the Antique Treasures coloring book for my model. Clearly, this rider has had a few tumbles and damaged the spokes because they’re not in any way aligned (unlike Amanda in yesterday’s post, I have little patience and zero skills as a draftsman). The dirt path at the bottom is colored pencil. The bike is black fine-lined pen and Sharpie, and the leaves are acrylic paint. Celebrate fall!

Thanksgiving Eve

Happy birthday today to Lynne! Always love sharing this photo I took at Cheaha State Park on a visit to our favorite lookout point during one of the decades we’ve been friends (who’s counting?!?).

We aren’t doing our Thanksgiving tomorrow as planned. Timothy had a couple of other clients in need of him, and his first real break when he can relax and hang out for a few consecutive hours will happen on Sunday. We’ll do our Thanksgiving meal then. In the meantime, I’ll be coloring and writing. I’d done another coloring page (shown below) from the Village Charm coloring book even before the bookstore drawing I recently shared. Below it is more flash fiction I hope you’ll enjoy (I went a bit over the thousand-word count, even after editing. This should surprise no one who reads me.).

I.J. drove his beat-up Civic to Amanda’s place with the windows down and his most recent tape playing. His car was so old it still had its original cassette player. One of his Sunday tasks while he did laundry was to create a weekly mix tape. He drew from half a lifetime’s accumulation of songs on computer, album, and CD collections to make a mix he could enjoy during a week’s worth of drives to and from work.

He was running late because Amanda had asked him to stop at the bakery to pick up three dozen mini chocolate cupcakes. She said they’d be perfect for an abundance of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce she wanted to use up. Amanda believed most people had a superpower they didn’t recognize. I.J. thought Amanda’s was her ability to throw things together quickly and create the perfect meal, outfit, party, excursion, or event. Her life was like Mary Poppins’ carpetbag: whatever was needed was in it. I.J. wondered if her creativity and spontaneity were a reaction to the precise mathematical and technical demands of her work as a draftsman.

The six who’d be at Amanda’s tonight evolved into a group over several years, when their original connections moved on because of graduations, breakups, jobs, and family crises. As they aged into their thirties, their lives stabilized. Though they had other friends and sometimes romances, changed jobs, and pursued diverse interests, their group stayed solid. Maybe the secret to their longevity was not gathering as a group too often. None of them had ever dated any of the others, so there were no messy memories or grudges among them.

The six consisted of two straight women, one bisexual woman, two straight men, and one asexual man. I.J. had spent much of his young adulthood trying to figure out why he was never sexually attracted to anyone. Counseling had finally given him an identity he could understand. He valued friendships and even deep emotional and spiritual connections; asexuality simply meant he wasn’t interested in physical relationships. That truth felt like a huge weight being lifted, especially when he learned there were plenty of people who were like him.

He thought of his other friends and their superpowers. Craig could fix anything. A weird noise coming from under the hood, anything broken or malfunctioning in a house or apartment, Craig was your guy. And he never wanted anything in return except maybe a pizza and a six-pack. He did all right financially as a landscaper but could probably be a millionaire as a fix-it guy. He liked keeping it a hobby, though, and refused payment.

Nora’s superpower was photography. She still used cameras that shot with actual film and spent weekends, holidays, and vacations capturing stunning images of nature and wildlife. She provided her own chemicals and paper to process them in the photo lab at the college where she taught history. Her colleagues knew her as Elnora; she thought it made her sound more professorial. I.J. thought it was strange that she didn’t teach photography or any other visual art.

Jess was their storyteller. He shared anecdotes about unnamed colleagues and customers, often making them all laugh to the point of tears. I.J. was never sure what parts of Jess’s stories were true or outright fiction. He had no idea how many retailers Jess had worked for over the years, most of them at the big mall thirty miles away. They were surprised when his most recent position managing the local bookstore had lasted two years, and held their breath when a new owner took over. The owner had no retail experience herself, but when Nora found out she’d been a teacher, she said they could stop worrying. A former high school teacher could whip any business into shape. A bookstore, even one that employed quirky Jess, would barely make her blink.

Liz countered that she wished the new owner would take over the hospital, too. Liz worked as a lab tech in every department–except the morgue, as she liked to say. They all worried about the emotional toll of her job. I.J. thought it was Liz’s superpower that saved her. She was a harpist, so gifted that the videos she posted of herself on social media garnered hundreds of thousands of views and likes. Liz never monetized her performances. She wouldn’t do endorsements; she gave no options for donations to her; and she left her comments turned off. The only statement in her bio was that anyone who enjoyed her music, Be good humans and donate your time or money to organizations that assist others.

There was no parking on Amanda’s street, so I.J. pulled into an open space on the nearest block. He ejected the tape, put it in its case, jammed it inside his pocket, grabbed the cupcakes, and left his car unlocked. There was nothing to steal except the car itself, and he doubted anyone would want it.

He spied Amanda’s dog Honey lying near the doorway of No. 9 (he always heard that repeated in the unnamed engineer’s voice from the Beatles’ song “Revolution 9”). Honey liked napping on the sidewalk since there was no parking or through traffic on the street. The front door was left open when the superpowers gathered there.

I.J. stopped walking, struck by a sudden thought. If the others had superpowers, why didn’t he? Without great wealth or the magical skills of a ninja or shapeshifter, with no talent to speak of–he didn’t think asexuality counted–if he was just an ordinary mortal, how did he fit into their group? He resumed walking slowly toward No. 9, and sat on the curb, cupcakes next to him, so he could pet Honey. He could clearly hear his friends’ voices through the open window.

Nora: He’s not answering his cell.

(I.J. suddenly realized he’d left his phone at home.)

Jess: He’s never late.

Liz: I hope he didn’t have an accident.

Craig: More likely that car of his crapped out. I need to give that thing a checkup.

Amanda: He has to come! Otherwise, we’ll have no music!

Liz: We need to find him. Those tapes he puts together are my coping mechanism.

Jess: They’re my emotional support music.

Liz: Do you know how many of his choices inspire what I perform and share on my social media?

Amanda: His tapes remind me of decades of music I’ve loved and can put on my office playlists.

Nora: You do that, too? I listen to mine in the darkroom. My students want them playing in class while they take exams.

I.J. realized he was smiling like an idiot, cleared his throat, and said loudly, “Sorry, Honey, the cupcakes are chocolate. Pretty sure I can talk Amanda out of a safer treat for you.”

He and Honey both stood and walked toward the open door of No. 9.

©Becky Cochrane

Sunday Sundries


I took a gentle break this morning as Tom and I were doing household chores and planning for the week ahead. Even when I’m alone at the table, I feel the presence of others. Possibly Lynne gave me the tin that holds my instant hot chocolate (it really is Swiss Miss® this time; it isn’t always), but she definitely gave me the little plate the two Pepperidge Farm® Milano cookies are on (thanks for the cookies, Tom!). The coffee mug is part of a set of four different van Gogh-inspired mugs from Tom’s parents many years back. During my break, I was putting together a menu and grocery list.


This is the beginning of preparation for our Thanksgiving holiday after Tom’s grocery run. There are still a couple of things missing, and these don’t include the food Debby will add. There’s much to be baked, boiled, and otherwise cooked or prepared, but the bulk of shopping is done. This has always been my favorite holiday, despite many past Thanksgivings I’ve experienced with fractured families, missing people, dramatic scenes, and loneliness. That shit can make for good, or at least interesting, storytelling.

I’m grateful for so much and so many every day, and I appreciate having a day when the nation pauses to be thankful–and maybe to do something to help others who aren’t as fortunate. I long ago opted out of Black Friday retail madness, something I’ve never regretted. I wish a good week to those for whom shopping is fun, along with gathering for tag football, watching football, playing board games, retelling stories, and being with family by birth or choice, or being solo and simply enjoying a day of rest, watching Netflix, or appreciating the animals who love us unconditionally.

If the holidays find you depressed, please reach out to available resources easily found online who can help you through it. If it will help you, volunteer your time at a shelter, a food kitchen, or a hospital or nursing home. Whatever you do or don’t do, whatever your circumstances or state of mind, YOU MATTER. Always believe it.

tangled up in blue, among other things, and a breakthrough

I’ve colored from this book before, but maybe only for posting on Instagram. I think one of the first pages I ever colored when I picked up the habit again was taken from it. Back then, I colored while I waited outside a building in the medical district where Debby was interviewing to be a hospice volunteer shortly after she moved to Houston with Harley and Stewie (so 2015?).


This new addition looks a bit like Harley–lab-like–and I chose to color him because I could fit the drawing, as hoped, under the one I shared Wednesday. I just had to trim off the top and bottom of the empty space around him. If I had to name him, I don’t know if I’d call him Blue or Tangle. While I was coloring him, Bob Dylan’s song “Tangled Up In Blue” was running through my head. The song was from his album Blood On The Tracks, which along with his album Desire, remained on continuous play when Kathy and I hung out together as undergraduates at Bama. If we were listening to those albums now, I believe we’d still remember all the words.

Forgetting that I’d colored Blue/Tangle and already had a post drafted for him, this morning I looked again at a list of suggestions from Blue Sky Boy. (You know, I do know your first name, but I never use it because I never asked if I could, and I don’t remember if you used it on LJ.) Back on topic, I saw the word “soccer” in his list and perused a few coloring books to see if anyone was playing soccer. Didn’t find anything but I did find a soccer ball in this coloring book. (Fun fact: a soccer ball, or the French version, ballon de soccer, is mentioned in the work in progress in the Neverending Saga.) That page led me to inspiration from the guy below, who joined the soccer ball and a few other things like a yellow umbrella (a reference to “How I Met Your Mother,” because I enjoyed the way the TV show used it through many seasons) and a baseball (also important in the Neverending Saga).


Tom’s grandfather owned a grocery store, and once, when a customer couldn’t pay his bill, he built and gave Grandpa two rocking horses for his first two grandchildren, Tom and his cousin Gina. This one is Tom’s. I love that story and the rocking horse. Here’s the picture I colored today.

As I colored, I finally had a solution to something that’s been holding up the writing of this chapter I’ve been struggling with. Hopefully that means a good writing day tomorrow. For future posts, I have a few more coloring pages lined up, as inspired by suggestions. Thank you for your comments and input.

is there anybody going to listen to my story

Title is a Beatles lyric. Took my most recent coloring page (started last night; finished this morning) from this book. If I tell you the book’s one of my favorites, you’ll probably roll your eyes and think, They’re all your favorites, but it’s not true. There are a whole stack of coloring books I rarely open, so you see mostly coloring pages from my favorites. And I’ll offer again: come up with a coloring page theme or something you’d like to see colored, and I can probably find it on my shelf.

In 2016, I made a firm promise to myself. In 2020, I took a deep breath and repeated it. The paths my thoughts traveled as I colored the page below–thoughts that had zero to do with what I was coloring–have made me question whether I can make and keep that promise again. I don’t mean to sound all mysterious and certainly not ominous. I’m not making drastic changes in my life, only accepting a hard truth about something. I’m sure we all have to do that sometimes.

Here’s the coloring page. It doesn’t take up the whole page in my sketchbook, so I’ll probably end up coloring something smaller to go with it one day.

And here’s “Girl” by the Beatles from Rubber Soul that played its way through my ten million thoughts and resolutions while I colored. Man, I miss Riley.

ETA: The reason I chose that page to color was because it had earrings. This past summer, I made the decision to stop wearing earrings and let my piercings close up. I first got my ears pierced at age sixteen by a friend–ice cube against the ear for numbing, sewing needle through the lobe into a slice of raw potato behind the ear–lots of alcohol and soap and water, leaving the little gold studs in for I don’t remember how long until everything was healed. I’d been absolutely forbidden to get my ears pierced. I did it when my mother was in New Jersey waiting on the birth of a grandchild. My father never noticed. I didn’t know the phrase then, but “it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” =) My second piercings were a spur-of-the-moment agreement with Lynne in a Houston mall in, maybe, 1989? ’90? With one of those piercing guns. Hurt like the dickens. Anyway, I was tired of trying to find earrings I liked and could leave in all the time. I have a ton of beautiful earrings, mostly small studs, and probably not a single niece or grandniece, nephew or grandnephew, who’d want them.

Gratitude

I’d pulled three coloring books off the shelf the other day to use for my next coloring pages, and this is the third of those (I’ve already pulled three more). It’s one of my favorites, but because the pages are on front and back, if I want to color a page, I scan it and print it on cardstock so I won’t lose the backing page (because some of the pens I use bleed through, and also, I like putting them in my big sketchbook when they’re finished).

Before I get to that though, I need to send a big thank you to the people who’ve made these last few days pleasant in so many ways (including texts, emails, and phone calls). Anyone who comments here lifts my spirits, and Mark has been catching up for the last few days, and it’s so much fun to go back to old posts and read and respond to his comments. I promise, Mark, even when you get caught up or miss, I will continue to anticipate our interactions with pleasure.

Getting comments here is always fun, and I thank my regulars, like Blue Sky Boy and Lynne, and the people who like leaving more cryptic names for fun (you know who you are), and my family members (including Tom, Ron, David, Debby, Geri, Lisa) and fellow writers (including my writing partners) who drop in from time to time and leave comments. I enjoy the occasional visits and comments from Nurse Lisa, Debbie D. in Canada, Gael who’s another LJ person from long ago. I may get more interaction on Instagram than here (though I post there infrequently except in October). There’s a different vibe to that: one is similar to passing someone I know (and like) in public, or having brief but pleasant interactions with strangers, and the other is like inviting someone to visit my home for a good conversation (even when brief), if that makes sense. There are also people, including family members, who read here regularly but respond via email, and that interaction is equally welcome.

Everyone has busy lives and endless places to direct their attention–jobs, time with friends and families, and in pursuit of interests like books, music, TV, movies, social media, traveling, and more physical activities. So a visit here is always appreciated.

Today’s coloring page was inspired by this photograph of Maxime De La Falaise wearing a fish-tailed striped gown designed by Paquin, as photographed by Cecil Beaton in Vogue, January 1950. I researched her, and wow, what an interesting person she was, and she had an intriguing family, as well. In this age, they’d definitely qualify as influencers, with huge groups of fans/admirers along with plenty of detractors, I’m sure. A current family comes to mind…

 

I liked being able to do the black stripes on this myself, and hope the contrast comes across in the photograph as well as on the page in front of me.

Another place, another time


Below is a page I colored last Friday and Saturday. It’s from the Sweden section in The Look coloring book. Two friends are walking the dog in Stockholm. This one’s in honor of a dear friend who lives in Sweden and of whom I was thinking while I colored.

I’ve named this dog Sabi (she’ll know why). Sabi’s a social media influencer who loves being the center of attention. He’s very big in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. In fact, he paid for everything they’re wearing and their cell phones. Good dog! (Note: He would be a good dog even without his earning power. All dogs are good dogs, including complicated Jack.)

(And look, Mark–another zebra crossing!)

Sunday Sundries


Taffy, who appears to be a golden retriever, tries to look innocent about where that hole came from, but the dirt on her nose and the fact that at least one of her pals seems to be pointing at her, gave her away. (All of these are Mattel dogs.) (ETA: I changed out this photo because I realized in this one, in the upper left, there’s a sliver of Delta watching from a distance. Who can’t have any cake because of the chocolate. Oh, the bitterness.)

That’s a cake I made to celebrate the 1.5-year May birthdays of Timothy and Rhonda. It was in May that our crazy weather and power outages began. Since then, several of us have dealt with sickness, some have traveled, and Lindsey and Timothy have had crazy busy work schedules. Today became the day we could finally all gather: Rhonda, Lindsey, (their dog Pepper), Timothy, Debby, Tom, and me for much needed friend time. Among us, we contributed “finger foods”: queso and chips, puff pastries with fig preserves and brie, chicken wings with three dipping sauces, tuna salad for petite sandwiches, fresh raw vegetables and fruits, turkey sausages, artichoke and jalapeño dip with crackers, guacamole, and hummus and pita chips. I didn’t take any photos except of the cake, though I did catch the two (May) birthday celebrants as we sang “Happy Birthday” to them.


It was lovely to be with friends again and to talk honestly and openly about how we’re all feeling and reacting right now. Our connections are important and to be cherished.


This is the book I colored from back in October of 2022. I think I posted it on Instagram but never on here. If you squint at the page I colored, you may be able to see how, for the framed pieces on the mantel, I chose to copy Rothko postcards that I own.


I thought Mr. Reynolds might be lonely, so I chose a different coloring book I found last year at, I think, Jo-Ann Fabrics and Crafts, to color a page to go opposite Ryan’s in my sketchbook. Is Mr. Reeves one of the best souls on the planet? Sometimes it seems that way. I found photos online of him in one of his kitchens at some time or another, and used a few of the details for my choices as I colored.

A cozy day reading with Ryan next to a fire in the library, or watching Keanu prepare a meal, sounds like a good time–though I’m content with how I spent my Sunday: good friends, family, dogs, and food.

words for today

I will now get to learn how to manage depression and anxiety. I’ll be seriously curtailing my online time. This morning, I read the social media post of a personal friend. He’s a really good human. A gay man. Gifted. Smart. Compassionate. He was being encouraging to people who feel wounded by the election results. Reminding his readers to take the long view, knowing there are still ways we can make our world a better place for ourselves and the marginalized. There was nothing hateful in his words. Nothing objectionable. But his comments began filling up with people mocking him, verbally attacking him. Gloating. Even low-key threatening him.

I’m sure he’s not surprised. I’m not surprised.

I’ve never tolerated hatefulness on this blog since I began it in 2004. I will ask you do not comment here or speak to me elsewhere and tell me ALL [fill in the blank with whatever descriptor you identify as] are not like that. I know. I’ve been around a while. I’m not the one making hateful generalizations. In so many places in my life, I have to choose my words and remain kind with people I know, people who are friends and family members, who vote in ways that literally threaten the health, peaceful and full life, and happiness of people I love. Their choice.

But never try to justify to me that chaos, division, demonizing, mendacity, and mental, emotional, and physical cruelty are okay. Hide yourself in a cloak of something abhorrent to me, and know that even then, I will listen, for a while, anyway, to all the things you say and all the things you don’t even realize you say, and the only, ONLY, point when we are done is if you begin to insult and demean me or the ones I love. If you don’t like me, respect me, or love me, for who I am, step off. Find a better way to fill your time than wasting it on me. (I have people in my life who build me up. Who comfort me. Who started bright and early this morning sending messages of love and commiseration, and the reminder that I can breathe with them. We can speak frankly whether we’ve been friends since we were eighteen, or since 1989, ’92, ’93, ’94, ’97, 2005, 2007, 2011, or 2015, I’m there for them. They’re there for me. We connect in so many ways.) To them (or you if you need to hear it) I say:


And to the others of you…
If your candidate won, celebrate. Sit at home with a big smile on your face; have some champagne. Crack a beer. Grill your favorite meat. Call or gather with your likeminded friends and repeat all the things you’ve been saying out loud since 2016. Actually, since 2008. You’ve gotten what you wanted. You’ve taken the White House, the Senate, the Supreme Court, (as of this writing, the jury’s still out on the House), and you’re already anticipating how all your “enemies” will be punished, controlled, vanquished. Do that instead of traveling social media and finding the accounts of strangers (and celebrities, because they are your very favorite targets) to pester them. Go and live the idyllic life you’ve been promised.

Today, I’ve spent lovely hours with my dogs. (Starting at about 4:30 am, when they began nudging Tom and me to GET UP. He took them out but then made them come back to bed and wait for breakfast.) They’re all a little crazy in all their different ways, but they have so much love to give. I don’t mean to aspire to craziness when I try to be more like them. It’s just a bonus, I guess. I showered, dressed, left the house to wash my car (the weather is lovely), make a bank deposit, and grab Starbucks.

My heart hurts. I want to be nice to myself. I’m not sure if I have the focus to write. There’s so much I’m unsure about. But I sure am grateful for the love in my life. I’m grateful for the values and strength I was given by my family, and the family I’ve made since. I feel far away from and lonely for many of them, but I also feel the love. Thank you.