Monday, April 26, 2010

Completely random and unrelated (I think)


I am loved

Sometimes that fact just astonishes me.
Can't explain why; it just does.
Today a dear friend said some of the kindest things to me,
things you just don't hear everyday.
She took the time (and great care) to let the people she holds close know why.
She's about to embark on a journey of great change,
and she marked that moment by expressing her love and appreciation.
She is a living example of gratitude
and how living gratefully makes you beautiful
in every way possible.
Must remember that.
Speaking of which,
I am grateful for you, my friends.
---------------------

Friday Follies

Around 3 pm Friday,
2 of my colleagues and I hit a slump.
I was about to conk out at my desk and happened
to mention that little fact across the cubes.
Turns out I wasn't the only one.
And so we found a way to wake ourselves up.
Jumping!
That's right! Complete silliness.
Highly recommended!
We're thinking of bringing scooters
into work and racing them up and down the halls.
Better yet, Big Wheels!

The Instigator


The Music Provider

The Least Fit 
------------------------

Ginsberg update

So, I was looking at the pup and realized he is now the same size as Charlotte.
Light bulb moment!
I grabbed the itty bitty X-harness that Charlotte sometimes wears,
popped it on Ginsberg and thought:
Well, I'll just let him wear it and get used to the idea of having one.
And then nature called.
So I grabbed my hands-free leash and hooked him up.
Before I knew it, we were running!
Technically, what we did is called canicross,
one form of dryland training, which is what
mushers desperate for snow and in need
of training their teams do during the non-winter months.
You'd think the boy was born to do this.
Oh, that's right, he was!
Me, too.
Wheeeee!

This pup means business!

Looking forward to this view come winter!

Have a grand week!




Friday, April 23, 2010

Well, I never . . .





. . . have ever seen spring so early in Minneapolis!


I've always marveled at how trees up here can sprout leaves from the middle of May, start turning colors in October, have shed their leaves before November, and continue to survive year after year. But they do--and our flash of green is always glorious.


But lilac buds and nearly leafed out trees in April? It's astonishing.








On the way to work yesterday, my bus got sick, belched white smoke, and passed out -- in a lovely part of town. I had my little point and shoot at the ready and snapped away until the next bus arrived.


The oaks, as always, are taking their time

It's been a while since I posted pictures of my sweet Ginsberg. 


[This would be a good time to stop reading if you don't wish to hear one more blogger carry on about a puppy . . . wink, wink, Suldog]

Closing in on 4 months soon, he's been through a rough spell with a tummy that has played host to all sorts of unpleasant critters. I won't go into the the details. Suffice it to say he got a bit skinny there for a while.


But today he had a nice, um, solid day, even alerting me to nature's call. So to celebrate, off to the dog park we whisked him. 


"Who's afraid of the big Great Dane? Not I," said the stalking pup.


"On second thought, maybe I should play with someone my own size."


"Or practice making cat shadows"


Oh, and Mr. B's new favorite phrase: "RELEASE THE KRAKEN!" After which we unlatch the crate and out spills one fine Alaskan Husky . . .




. . . who isn't a monster at all, but a canine of the Contemplative Order . . .




. . . for whom no stick is too is a match!




May your spring be full of astonishment and joy!

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Visiting Nola



Nothing about this town is quiet, not even the lights
I can hear barges on the Mississippi from my 24th floor hotel room.


Beer spills over the lips of plastic cups as 
people stumble out of Bourbon Street doorways, shouting and slurring
The chest-thumping sounds of drums follow them.


Unless you want to converse with a perfect stranger, best to avoid eye contact.
But there's no way to miss the men with faces of silver




The sights jangle your senses.
Loop after loop of shiny plastic beads in every color beckon from shops.
So do feathered masks (made in China)
Neon things I'm too shy to describe




One place looks dark, but it's just subtle;
Inside are linen covered tables and silver forks and knives,
male waiters with crisp manners
And next door, in front of a rusting pull-down garage door,
servers are smoking and gossiping


I'm faintly scared and perversely fascinated
I walk fast as the sun sets
and those who live at night emerge.
I hurry past them
but listen for their cadences




I sit by the river and eat gulf shimp, hush puppies, and fries
A small combo plays blues as river breezes
make me cold but not too cold


A Minnesotan in the Big Easy
Thousands of miles separate us
but a mighty river connect us


And yet, I am alone
A stranger in a strange land





Monday, April 5, 2010

Take me out to the ball game!

The new Target field, home of Minnesota Twins. Play ball!


My Aunt Stella introduced me to baseball when I was a very little girl. She was the only adult in my family who liked sports and was extroverted, like me.


It was sooo long ago, Houston's team was called the Colt 45s. That's before the first domed stadium was built (the Astrodome), before the Houston Astros, and way before the retractable-roof Enron Field that became Minute Maid Field.


So, I figured it was my turn!


Aunt Stella came to visit for Easter, and the Minnesota Twins had just opened a gorgeous new open air stadium (Target Field) that's clean and green. We watched the Twins smear the St. Louis Cardinals (sorry, Card fans) from our wooden-backed seats, ate hot dogs and popcorn, danced our way through the 7th inning stretch, and hollered like banchees when the Twins beat the famed Cardinals.


Hooray for Aunt Stella, who took the bus with Mr. B and me (wonderfully, bike paths, light rail, and buses all swing right by the the field), braved the chilliness, and continued to explain the technicalities of the game to her Minnesota niece.


We all had a blast!


 Oh, yeah...we were bundled up on April 3!!!

 Kentucky blue grass in a checkerboard pattern

 Hooray for the bongo guy who also moved venues!


Aunt Stella poses before the field's facade,
which is made from stone quarried in Minnesota


I tell ya, everybody needs an Aunt Stella!

All photos shot with my sweet little iPhone

Friday, April 2, 2010

A RockStarSon turns 23!



Every year, our family pays homage to Lake Superior -- the little town of Lutsen,
to be exact.

And every year, two Baker boys brave the 40+ degree water
for as long as they can, much to the amusement of the rest of the clan. 

In honor of his birthday,
here's a little video of this amazing act of courage,
performed by one Erik Baker (the birthday boy)
and Sean Baker (the big brother).

August isn't that far off, big guy.
Hope living in Las Vegas hasn't thinned your blood too much!


Happy Birthday, E!

 

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Mrs. Kimball loved to dance

April 1st is my mother's birthday.

She'd be 88 today had her beautiful spirit not left her tiny, frail body 5 years ago.

There's a song that's been haunting me lately.

Maybe she sent it my way.

She did so love to dance.

She did so love.


~





Dance me to the end of love
By Leonard Cohen
Performed my Madeleine Peyroux

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove

Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of

Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above

Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn

Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove

Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Image by Mexindian

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