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Lynne caught Miss Lila in the pumpkin patch at the Oil Ranch. This photo is one of the happiest parts of a good week.
If you’d like something to be happy about, comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and I’m sure our little friend here will mooooooove her way through the pages and find your answer.
“Lila” by Lynne.
Cow by book.>
I rarely use the middle burner on my stove. Last night, probably a couple of hours after we ate dinner, Tom was walking toward the kitchen and I said, “I keep thinking I smell gas. Could you check the stove?” Apparently, when I thought I turned the burner off, I really only turned it all the way down. The flame went out, but the gas kept going.
I went to Tim’s later to watch a movie. When I came home, Tom and the dogs were sleeping. At least I hoped that was just sleep, because the gas smell was still ridiculously strong. I opened all the windows and within a few minutes, the smell was finally gone.
Good thing No. 1: I didn’t blow up my house.
Good thing No. 2: Tom and the dogs seem fine today.
Good thing No. 3: The AC is still off, and wonderful breezes have been blowing through my house since last night.
You know those moments in your life that you look back on and remember exactly what you were doing when you heard about [fill in the blank]. I’ve got a few of those in both happy and sad columns But Tuesday night…
I did try hard to stay away from the news. Tim even made appointments for us to get our hair cut with Larry, because that’s always a happy couple of hours with someone whose company we enjoy.
Tim, during the process…
Pile o’ Tim hair.
Yeah, I know you want “after” photos, but I can’t give you all the good stuff at once.
I did some errands and drove by several polling places hoping to get photos of voters in long lines. However, that early voting thing really works out for Houston, because there were no lines. Later, Tim and I went back out with the dogs, and as we drove down West Gray, I got this shot of some people who caught me in the act and seemed okay with it.
I read and enjoyed your comments about your voting experiences on my last post, then I started cooking dinner to stay away from the TV. I began having all kinds of computer issues, so obsessively checking for news online wasn’t an option. I also had my news-avoiding movie selection at the ready: My Best Friend’s Wedding, because I haven’t watched it for a while and Julia and the so-hot Dermot Mulroney are always a good diversion.
We ate. We watched our soap, a little CNN, a little Fox, a little MSNBC. I took some phone calls. I couldn’t forget the last two presidential campaigns, so I refused to be lured into anything like confidence and especially not complacency. I was more than willing to watch the one-hour Jon Stewart/Stephen Colbert special, because I figured it would be at least a couple of hours before we were anywhere near hearing an outcome.
Then arrived that moment, the one I’ll always remember, when after goofing around and trading barbs, Jon Stewart quietly said: “At eleven o’clock at night Eastern standard time, the president of the United States is Barack Obama.” It took me a minute to realize he wasn’t kidding, and I immediately started crying, and it was quite some time before I could stop. I’ve never felt such a profound sense of history. I know many of my friends are skeptical and don’t feel the way I feel, but this is a day I didn’t think would come in my lifetime, a moment when everything seems to move forward and stop looking back, and I wish my parents could share it with me.
Both my phones were ringing, I knocked my can of Dr. Pepper over, the dogs were crazy, and Tim arrived to say that John McCain was expected to give his concession speech within minutes. And when he did concede, I was so proud of him. It was exactly the kind of moving and gracious speech we hope for from a statesman. I looked at that crowd of disappointed McCain supporters, and I understood exactly how they felt. However, in my heart, I truly believe what President-Elect Obama promised in his speech. He will be a president for ALL of us, he will listen to ALL of us, particularly those with differing opinions. This will be such a dramatic change from the last eight years.
Thank you to everyone who called and commented and sent e-mails–from all over the world! We have a lot of work ahead of us, and if there’s anything I could wish for, it would be that instead of divisiveness, we’d all start acting like friends and neighbors again. The following is my best attempt to use what I had on hand to represent a spirit of unity and to show that happiness is NOT a partisan issue. We can always use more happiness and more than a little silliness, so please comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and the elephant and donkey will work together to find your answer.
I was reading Joe.My.God’s blog and he invited his readers to comment about how their voting experience had gone. Since only a few of my readers ever comment, and a lot of you are not in the U.S., I can’t expect but a few answers compared to the hundreds Joe will get. However, feel free to comment on any of these questions Joe posed:
Tell me about your voting experience (and where you are). How long was your wait? Did you witness anybody giving up on the line? How was the mood of your fellow voters? Did the voting machine work properly? Are you confident your vote was recorded properly?
I voted Sunday before last. I had no wait. The poll workers were organized and pleasant. My machine worked. There’s no reason to doubt that my vote was recorded properly since this state is so red-locked that I’m the only one who takes my vote seriously. NOTHING would stop me from voting, however.
Back in late July when I went out to visit my friend Pat in Small Paradise, she gave me a button that she’d gotten many years before when serving as a delegate. Do you know how torturous it was to wait until the Sunday before the election to share this?
I wasn’t born into this world as a Yellow Dog Democrat, so I must thank Nixon and his cabinet and conspirators, the Reagans, the Bush family, and especially Dick Cheney for transforming me into one. Good job!
The Ford family gets a free pass.
Dear Readership:
I know the only way to keep you coming back is to give you something to actually read–well, that and post photos of Tim, but I think he retired from my LJ in late 2007, and I haven’t yet found a good enough bribe to lure him back into camera range. I’ll try to be better about posting, because I miss your comments. And your fondue.
As you may have surmised, this woebegone Compounder has been sick and demanding my attention for a few days:
Guinness has been as poop-shy as Tim has been camera-shy, which means I’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors cajoling her (with an equal lack of success). When I went out this morning, I noticed the tiny, TINIEST, little bits of green on the part of The Compound lawn that had been nothing but dirt on Sunday, when I last posted a photo.
Look HARD for the brand new baby grass testifying to Tim’s hard work.
Throughout the day, I’ve returned to find that each time, there’s a little more green. There are some other nice sights, too.
Last January, Lynne gave us a potted azalea, and it has suddenly bloomed:
The morning glories are so in love with the newly moderate weather that they’ll stay open most of the day:
And there’s this beauty, blooming outside Tim’s apartment:
While shooting those for you, GREAT HAPPINESS arrived at The Compound when Guinness finally, FINALLY left a gift on Tim’s new grass. Because I cherish you, I won’t force you to see a photo of that. Instead, I’ll give you an odor-free skunk:
and the opportunity to comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, so the skunk can give you something to be happy about. (Please feel free, as always, to keep commenting for as many days as you wish. Happiness has no expiration date.)
…it is absolutely impossible for me to hear anywhere, spoken aloud, the words “What’s your name?” without mentally adding, “Who’s your daddy? Is he rich? Is he rich like me?”
The quick brown fox jumps into the picture to suggest that you comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, so he can give you something to be happy about.
Yes, I still have the migraine. And I’m having some really bizarre dreams because of drugs. I’m especially dreaming about other people’s parents. Even when I don’t know their parents. So hi, other people’s parents. Thanks for checking on me while I’m sleeping.
Meanwhile, nothing stops the quest for happiness. So please, for my peace of mind, comment with a page number between 1 and 611, and another number between 1 and 25, and I’ll let you know what this book says you have to be happy about.
Last week, the largest number of votes from people–even ones who didn’t want happiness–was for “bobcat.” This week: mountain lion or cougar? You be the judge.