Twinkling up the pirate digs

Inspired by a blogging buddy, I've hauled out last year's Christmas light strings and installed them in four locations in the pirate domicile. I'm not finished yet but I figured I'd give you all a look around.

Now, I've always loved white lights and used them year-round, both indoors and out.

But Luna goosed me when she got a set of purple "faerie lights" (I can't find me any purple ones but I haven't looked all that hard and I won't give up) to add to her already-sparkling cottage.

So I was all, like, well I've got a bunch of lights right out here stashed in a wicker ottoman thing, in the sun room, where I put them just yesterday last January.

The first thing I did was to put twinkling lights all along the ledge in the sun room. This ledge runs the length of the room and with the help of three Command hooks to keep the lights from slipping off, in no time we were sparkling to beat the band.

I enjoy sitting out here in my recliner so much, especially on rainy days like today. The lights add relentless comfy-homey charm.

Next I took a string upstairs to the Pirate Dressing Room. Yes I have a pirate flag on the wall, and black lace valances. This is where I get ready to face the world on days when I have no choice but to do so.

Next I placed a string of lights around an antique what-is-left-of-a hall tree that I got from my late mother-in-law's basement after she passed away last year.

I love things that lean, and I love age-marked mirror. We're all the way there but with the addition of the lights, my front-room studio looks just a trifle bohemian. 

Last (for now) I just up and hung a whole strand of lights from a little bitty hook in the ceiling of the dining area of our kitchen.

Yes. I just hung them there. It's my kitchen and besides, I read someplace that this is the cool thing to do now. Just hang the lights wherever you crave glowy ambiance, and you end up with originality creds.

So now I have little white lights reflecting in the glass top of my table where I'm beginning to assemble my piratey decorations for September and October.

I don't celebrate Halloween but I like skeletons and Ravens and skulls. Year round. I mean, my car is named The Raven, and a stuffed but believable raven perches in the back window, looking at the other drivers.

Recently I acquired a life-size skeleton of an actual (sort of) Raven, in his own cage. He doesn't want out.

I also have a to-scale Victorian-Dickensian hearse worthy of Jacob Marley's hyperactive remains.

I'll show you pictures of my autumn and creepy decorations in a day or two.

You may have intuited that I'm pretty psyched about the arrival once more of the four -B-E-R months. They're my favorites because from day one, they just get better and better.

Temperatures will settle down and, with the help of fortunate winds, the humidity will follow suit.

This pirate will be keeping a weather eye on the horizon.

And that is all for now.

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Happy September 

We love Paris in the springtime. We love to Pawty all the time.

I have been troubled more than once lately by the fact of my own delinquency in sharing with you the highlights of a certain special family occasion.

Of which we have so many.

Cheryl -- whom, together with her husband Alan and son Chad, TG and I were able to meet and get to know recently, and of whose boundless hospitality we were the grateful and humbled recipients -- remarked not long ago: It seems like all you folks do is Pawty! 

And in the post on which that comment appeared, I had promised to tell you about Dagny's third birthday party.

But I have yet to make good on the promise. Until today.

First let me say, I agree with Cheryl that it seems as though all we do is Pawty but honestly, is an alternative course open to us?

(The question is rhetorical; I know there isn't. It is painfully clear that we are too hedonistic -- or enthusiastic -- for our own collective good.)

I thought purposefully back on the year thus far. You barely sweep up the last few pine needles and bits of stray tinsel from Christmas, stash the strings of lights, and it's TG's birthday. End of January.

But a few days before that, this year we celebrated the Inauguration of President Trump. With a party.

Two weeks into February? Valentine's Day. Oh yes! We celebrated. Gifts. Cards. Dinner. Candy. The whole blah blah.

A week later, it was grandson Andrew's birthday. Two weeks after that fell my birthday (cause for much jollity). Two weeks later and we were psyched for Audrey's birthday, and one week (exactly) later, it was time to celebrate the day our son Andrew originally arrived into the world.

Mere days after that, it was our duty and delight to fête Allissa on her birthday. Then (immediately) it was Easter. I recall partying around a massive ham although we know full well, the point of Easter is our Lord's resurrection and not simply another excuse to eat ham. And be hams.

Two weeks after Allissa's day and Easter, son-in-law Joel's birthday occurred, right on schedule. We were up to May first.

Count on both hands the days that went by until Mother's Day. I will wait because it won't take long, only, trust me: There was a huge party.

A few weeks later, we celebrated both Memorial Day and Erica's birthday. I'm pretty sure Erica's birthday was the bigger party, judging by the cake, but we did the patriotic thing too.

Forward through time two more weeks and it was Dagny's birthday, followed by TG's and my anniversary. Not many days hence, it was Chad's birthday and my mother's birthday, one day apart. Then it was time to celebrate Stephanie and Joel's anniversary.

We failed to mount an actual bash for their anniversary. But don't forget that Father's Day also fell in mid-June. Party? Yes please, and thank you. It's only natural.

Next up? The Fourth of July! An occasion on which we definitely pawty. As I recall, it was a cookout at Andrew's house, with all the sides and trimmings. A few weeks later, we went on our trip to Atlanta, to see the Chicago Cubs play at brand-new SunTrust Park. We partied at Mary Mac's Tea Room.

As August dawned, we celebrated Henry's birthday. Then it was time to go on vacation, which we did, and I haven't even told you anything about that. MUCH pawtying occurred, allow me to assure you.

Then there was the Total Solar Eclipse. It felt like a party to me. A wing-ding for the senses, especially those of sight and wonder. We may also have had ice cream.

That brings us up to now. Just this past weekend, Brittany visited. We all got together and had a couple of party-like outings. In a few days Andrew will be home from Afghanistan and we will celebrate that with another purposefully happiness-filled get-together. Food; laughter; general hilarity. The whole nine.

Then it will be time to organize festivities marking Stephanie's birthday. A few weeks later, TG and I along with Chad and Erica, Andrew and Brittany, and Audrey, will travel back to Atlanta for yet another weekend baseball getaway.

Atlanta Braves versus Philadelphia Phillies this time.

We get a wee break then, to enjoy October, until Brittany's birthday later on in that beautiful month. Surely some sort of soiree will be in the offing.

Then it will be time to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas. You know what that means: shindigs galore and getting/giving presents and elaborate decorating and endless consumption of party treats. After which we will start all over again.

Oh wait! Don't forget Melanie's birthday, on the shortest day of the year. There will be revelry.

And you'll recall, each of my grandchildren came to our house for a week this summer, and that a great deal of merrymaking ensued on and around those occasions. 

Do you realize, each and every one of these milestones mentioned, requires meal and event planning, schedule coordination, communication with many varying factions and -- more to the point -- gift-giving?

Let that sink in. It may become necesssary to initiate a crowdfunding site. Bankroll the Webers' out-of-control partying habit!

So yes: Pawty is what we are called to do and yes, we make a fuss over every little thing. So there's that.

Even so, I feel sure I've forgotten some peripheral shenanigans in which we may or may not have indulged thus far in Twenty Seventeen. The mind shrinks from the effort of remembering the sheer volume of our flagrant celebratory activity.

We also work, and go to church, and find time for all the mundane non-partylike things everybody is obliged to do in this workaday world. We go to the dentist; we shop for groceries and walk the dog and fill the car with gasoline. All this and more.

Although I'll never know where we find the time.

But back to the subject at hand: Dagny turned three on June fourteenth.

It wasn't even technically summer but still, it was famously hot here in Columbia and I wanted most of the pawtying to be done indoors (although many did sit out by the pool), and especially the picture-taking part.

So I established a photo booth of sorts in the front room studio, set up the lights, assembled the props, affixed one of the Nikons atop the tripod, and told everyone to use the clicker. 

You've likely divined by now that our theme was Paris. As in, the Western European City of Lights. Thanks to Oriental Trading, it was the easy way. Audrey went click click click, and I did some clicking of my own (Amazon), and we were there.

The chicks in our family are all jazzed all the time about black and white (noir blanc) for fashion's sake, and when you add pink, the magic really happens. We were suitably impressed with our own achievements in this instance.

Now you must excuse me for I must go and plan the next pawty, which is in the drawing-board stages.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

A brief but burning desire

It was a profound experience.

After the eclipse, I saw news photos of people -- thousands of them -- at a thrown-together hippie festival in Oregon which had gone on for days, raising both hands to the sun.

I had to laugh. What does that even mean?

I will worship the Creator and never the creation.

But, like most humans, I love nature and am inspired by it daily.

The sight -- together with the urgent sounds and a breathless sensation in the oddly altered air -- of the total solar eclipse was one I will never forget.

It was just short enough to make its memory a singular treasure and just long enough to make its occurrence a distinct privilege.

As the hour approached for totality, we began looking through our eclipse shades to see the encroaching lunar black bite upon the unblinking solar surface.

There was an ominous quality that made the whole thing more exciting. We knew the moon would briefly star in a pseudo-disappearing act before the sun showed who was boss once more.

We watched the clock. Zero hour was to be two forty-one; by two thirty-five it was obvious that something extraordinary was taking place.

The landscape took on a one-dimensional attitude as the thin shadows grew longer.

It was an extremely hot day; our temperatures didn't plummet so much as relax, for five minutes or so on either side of totality.

Then the solar lights that ring our pool and decorate its planters and accent pieces, popped on all at once.

I looked through my glasses. Only the slimmest silver sliver of sun remained to be seen. A glowing curved thread.

It was cloudy; we audibly moaned and groaned. This would be an issue in the wholly temporary time-sensitive situation.

I was wearing a short dress. Mosquitoes which congregate somewhere -- who knows where -- in broad daylight, waiting for their dark playtime to commence, came out in swarms and began to feast on my skinny bare legs.

I've long suspected that the bloodthirsty opportunistic varmints have plastered my likeness on WANTED posters all over Skeeter Town.

Normally if I'm outside at that time of day, I'm partially submerged in the pool and I've slathered my face and shoulders with Skin So Soft, the scent of which mosquitoes mostly avoid.

The cicadas had begun screaming madly, in concert as though they'd been informed there was to be no tomorrow, the way they perform at deepest summer twilight just before nighttime when they shut up altogether.

Then: Totality. The light was almost-but-not-quite extinguished. We could barely see the corona through the clouds.

I ripped off those shades, took aim, and started taking pictures. I'm an amateur; I used my zoomiest zoom lens and no tripod. I just wanted to get something to remember it by.

Because it seemed like a dream, an exquisite suspension of time.

At the end, the unique moment having passed into history and the fiery solar rays re-revealed, clouds once more obscured our view.

It was as though a dinosaur-like creature was eager to consume -- or expel -- the still-raging heat. 

The solar lights around the pool winked out in obedience to the brightness. Mosquitoes took a hike. Cicadas dimmed to their customary daytime background whine. All gears were once again switched.

Columbia's famously hot status was reinstated. Celestial events notwithstanding, August in the Carolinas is no joke.

Throughout the spectacle, we could hear folks whooping and hollering all over the neighborhood.

Its duration had been a time of masterfully restrained power. Only God can do this.

I am grateful to Him for allowing me to witness it.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Wednesday

Eclipsed by cuteness

Here in Columbia today, it's all about Solar Eclipse 2017.

Somebody wasn't too happy at being asked to pose wearing eclipse shades.

Dagny is in the throes of a summer cold. She has a fever.

See those flushed cheeks? Motrin has been administered.

By the time this offering auto-posts at 2:44 p.m. Eastern Standard Time, totality will have come and gone.

As I write, it's beginning to look very strange outside. The wilting heat is subsiding, temporarily.

I'd better grab my shades and look up.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Eclipsing

A world away

I blogged here, nearly three years ago, about visiting Andrew at the 134th Air Refueling Wing at McGhee Tyson Air National Guard Base in Knoxville, not long after he became a fully-fledged boom operator.

He treated me to a visit inside the "sim" -- simulator to civilians -- where I was allowed to watch what he does, and even pretend to do it myself.

You've got to be in awe of our American heroes.

Since forward-deploying from Qatar to Afghanistan a few days ago, Andrew has been sending me and his father the occasional photo.

In the first photo above, he (you can't see him but I promise he's there) is operating the fueling boom of a Maine Air National Guard KC-135 Stratotanker, giving a drink to a thirsty (and fully loaded) F-16 Fighting Falcon in the air over Afghanistan.

I've never understood how he both refuels the plane while they both are hurtling through airspace at six hundred miles per hour, and takes a picture at the same time. I mean, they are no more than thirty feet apart.

Once I asked him how he does it, and he told me, and I still don't understand.

Millennials.

Here's a short video showing exactly what happens:

How about that Stealth bomber? It reminds me of a sea creature. Kind of creepy; am I right?

Andrew arrived in Kandahar at around four o'clock local time one morning last week.

It's been a long day, he texted.

While waiting to be assigned to barracks, he and his buddies posed in front of a sign. If you'd like to know more about the name on that sign, go here.

Andrew said he and his friends were wanting to look cool but to me, they look weary. And brave.

Yesterday he sent me this picture, of himself in the USO building. I hope they gave him a donut and a cup of hot coffee.

I was reminded of the picture I posted a few weeks ago -- here -- of the boy walking into the USO San Antonio one decade ago, a day after graduating from Basic Military Training.

I don't know much about the United Services Organization but if they provide even one moment of homey comfort to a soldier so far away from the comforts of home -- and I know they do more than that -- I am grateful to them.

God Bless America and each one of those who serve. It's a sacrifice; a selfless and often thankless job that somebody has got to do.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday