Something Pithy Here

"Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop." -- The King of Hearts

I'm an adopted Texan. As they say, "I wasn't born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could!" I post pictures and opinions as suits my mood, mostly because I can. Hooray Internet! 

So far I have three blogs here. By the Way is the oldest. I started it in 2003. I lost a couple of years to Vox because I was too lazy to bother to export when they shut down. I consider it an exercise in accepting impermanence. When I followed my husband to Singapore for his first expat assignment, I started (T)expatriate: A Southern Girl in Singapore. That covers 2010 and 2011, give or take. Next came Oslo, and (T)expat 2: Norwegian Boogaloo,  in 2012. Now I'm back home, and back on By the Way.

Pix live on Flickr. I toss links out on Twitter when I feel like it. I'm still not sure what to do with G+ but I kinda like it.

 

Frazzled

My eyes are really going square. I'm bouncing between projects at work and between websites at home. On the downside, I often can't remember what I'm supposed to be doing at any given moment. On the upside, I'm learning a lot and I'm getting better at enjoying small successes. (That's called "trying really hard to see the glass half-full.")

Last weekend I went to see The Thin Man with the MO's parentals at the MFAH's theatre. It was fabulous!! I've decided I want to be Myrna Loy when I grow up. (Yeah, I know it ain't gonna happen, but a girl can dream....) I'm very happy to know that there are five, count 'em five, sequels. (Oh, and of course there is a box set! And check this, on the Amazon page for The Complete Thin Man Collection the "people who bought this also bought" shows the Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers Collection Vol 1 that the MO's parentals gave me for Xmas, so how perfect is all that? I watched Shall We Dance last week and loved it....) (Although that dress that they show on the picture on IMDB was really hideous....)

I've been reading some short stories, too. I'm not ready to jump into another novel after my Peter F. Hamilton excursion and I'm too distracted to deal with a history book right now, so short stories are perfect. Last night I read "The Lover of Horses" by Tess Gallagher. I found the central concept of the story quite alluring, in a strictly "wow, what would that be like?" kind of way, and I was entirely engrossed in the unfolding analysis of the familial character flaw (depending on your point of view).

I guess we look for familiar scenarios, and sometimes the mind makes quite a leap in connecting the dots. Near the end of the story, the protagonist is sitting outside under a cedar tree, smoking a cigarette, contemplating silence, and I immediately envisioned my grandpap sitting on his stool under his little arbor behind the house, feeding squirrels or watching redbirds or whatever-it-was he did when he sat there. I was always told not to bother him when he went there, so I never did. (In fact, I'm just guessing about the stool. I'm sure he must have sat on something and I don't recall a chair.) But later, seeing him on the back porch patiently regarding hummingbirds and the squirrels on the corn-cob wheel, I figure he just sat there and smoked and thought.

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