Mood: Monday

I previously posted a photo of by an untitled oil on canvas painting by Forrest Bess.

Posting this in the wee hours of the morning and then hoping I can sleep through the night and wake up feeling better. Our weather’s beginning to change, with a freeze expected later in the week, and I think my body’s struggling to adjust, so I’m feeling a little rundown.

Happy birthday to Mark in England! I know you enjoyed a celebration with friends earlier in the month and hope you have a good “second” birthday on your actual date.


This is also the birth date of our late nephew Aaron. I can’t believe it’s been ten years since he died. He’s so deeply missed and loved. This photo is from a spontaneous trip David, Geri, Aaron, Tom, Debby, and I made to Galveston during Mardi Gras in 2011. I don’t remember who shot the photo. It’s a day that I always think of with happiness.

A pause…


For sixty years…


…four generations of Cochranes…


…have sat around the table…


…on these six chairs.

They’ve traveled among homes in Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, Kentucky, Texas, Utah, and Ohio. They’ve seated us at many Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, birthday, anniversary, retirement, graduation, and wedding meals. They were there for playing cards and other games, coloring, drawing, typing stories, sewing, assembling puzzles, soothing newborns, holding toddlers as they grew heavy with sleep, sneaking goodies from the table to dogs, and smoking and enjoying drinks while telling stories. So many stories. They’ve heard music, laughter, arguments, and borne witness to a million memories shared by the friends and family who sat in them.

It has taken me five years since the flood, when we stopped using them, to remove them from storage and let them go. The consignment shop that took them is part of an organization that in 2023 will mark 100 years of raising money for medical research and development. My mother placed items there when she lived in Houston, and I know she’d be fine with the chairs embarking on another adventure from there.

Debby said it best–she hoped the chairs find a good home with lots of love and laughter. I have dozens of photos showing that’s exactly the kind of family they’ve been with.

Today I’m not myself
And you, you’re someone else
And all these rules don’t fit
And all that starts can quit
What a peculiar state, we’re in
What a peculiar state, we’re in
Let’s play a game
Where all of the lives we lead
Could change
Let’s play a game
Where nothing that we can see
The same
But we’ll find other pieces to the puzzles
Slippin’ out under the locks
I could show you how many moves to checkmate right now
We could take apart this life we’re building
And pack it up inside a box
All that really matters is we’re doing it right now
Right now
But we’ll find other pieces to the puzzles
Slippin’ out under the locks
I could show you how many moves to checkmate right now
We could take apart this life we’re building
And pack it up inside a box
All that really matters is we’re doing it right now
Right now

random or not

Today was a gorgeous day here after some rainy/rainy-cold ones. It allowed me to do physical work outside–a much needed antidote to too much horrible news and too many reprehensible behaviors displayed for the world to see via news and social media.

Today’s outside work means I have a nice collection of kindling for when we use the chiminea to sit on the patio and talk when it’s both clear and chilly.

1. I know that “influencers” carefully cultivate an image much like entertainment figures do. 2. I rarely stick with reading or following “oversharers.” 3. I share selectively. I only ever got on social media in the first place because anyone with something to sell (e.g., art, books, music) was told it was the best way to find an audience. I don’t have anything to sell (these days). I don’t feel compelled to influence anyone. I still like interacting with people here, but this has become mostly a way to keep up with my days–what I do, who I’ve seen, what I’m thinking about or remembering.

I’m sort of working on something that I’m adding to the blog–but I’m “time traveling” to do it, so it won’t show up on the first page. It’s something I want to keep up with for reasons of my own, and I don’t imagine it would mean anything to anyone else.

If you’re in the States and observe the holiday tomorrow, I hope it’s what you want it to be, whether restful, busy, social, or quiet. I’m thankful for the people and animals who fill my life with laughter, love, and thoughtfulness.

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.