carved in wood

Last night was our made-up anniversary. Arbitrary might be a better word, because we didn’t have a date that made things official.

For three years I’ve been sharing my life with Dan, and its still exciting and awesome and good.

I have a bunch of mushy stuff I could say, but this isn’t the place.

Some things you write on a postcard knowing full well anyone can read it.

Other times, I figure it’s best to skip the postage, shut down the computer, and deliver the message directly.

Current music: Rufus Wainwright “11:11”


From Wilhelm Staehle

I’m quite enjoying reasonable and excellent artwork to hang on the wall.

This is a new and likely forever favorite from The Bazaarium brings the silhouette masterpiece theatre series home quite attractively.

In other news, I’d new brakes put on the car today, and this gives me great comfort.

Categorized as Arts

that moment

As the sun sets and the light is golden

I’m still processing this week.

On the backside, catching up and welcoming the return of creative energy.

Lots of work to be done.

This photo? My mom’s house—a retreat where I can always count on an ever changing exhibit of inspiration, and very likely a solid meal.

the leaf collectors

with camera reflected

Getting ready to leave yesterday morning, we heard some rumbling out front.

The township had sent around the leaf collecting crew. Luckily Dan had caught this detail online and made appropriate arrangements with the leaves.

Something small to mention is the reflection of camera in this photo. Again, it’s the point and shoot.

As far as I can tell, my Canon 20D is near dead. I’ve determined that it has something to do with the card slot. (The shutter fires repeatedly when a memory card is simply inserted into the body). So while this is sad, I am very satisfied with the performance of the camera. I’ve had it since February of 2005 and taken over 13,000 photos. Many of those were bad, some I’ve liked.

Now I’m going to research the slew of new cameras on the market and work with what I’ve got for the time being.

Current music: The Welcome Wagon “Half a Person” [ mp3 ]

Make sure you have room in your heart for absolutely everybody

On August 18, Dan and Chris (no not me and Dan) got married in San Diego

I’m standing there in California, which in itself is a fresh batch of cookies for the soul.

The garden is packed with smiling people—each face trained on handsome grooms.

I’d known the couple to wed for years. We met for the first time in the spring of 2003 and liked another well enough to travel to Europe that autumn.

In the time we’ve known each other, Chris and Dan have taught me how to appreciate wine, the joy of British humour, hardiness zones for plants, and a host of other things that enriched my world view.

When I heard that after 14 years together they were getting married, I marked my calendar and hung the invitation on our fridge.

So there I was, back at the ceremony on that August afternoon.

A fella named Austin officiated with particular charm, telling the story of how Dan and Chris met. He spoke of their love for one another and for everyone that stood before them to witness that day. I don’t remember all the words but I will say that I stole the title of this journal entry from Austin’s recollection of the day:

“Make sure you have room in your heart for absolutely everybody.”

I’m not going to try and butch it up folks. I cried at the apex of the ceremony.

These were tears for not only my friends, but for the very experience and possibility of their union.

As election day looms, I’m reminded that this marriage might be revoked if Proposition 8 is passed in California. And even though this is all going on with seven states between us, it’s heartbreaking to see the news and advertisements from the opposition.

I’m reminded of words by Robert F. Kennedy,

Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanish it with a program, nor with a resolution. But we can perhaps remember – even if only for a time – that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short movement of life, that they seek – as we do – nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and happiness.

On that afternoon, in that backyard garden in San Diego, I shared some of that happiness, and I’m very grateful.

PhotosHere are some images from the day

our first trick or treaters

at our home

Pardon the photo, it’s from my little point and shoot and I wasn’t prepared and they were walking too fast, and and and…

The good part is that this family were the first trick or treaters at our house. The kids were all dressed up, the mom liked our yard sign, and Dan gave out a bunch of chocolates.

They turned out to be our only visitors this year, which left us with way too many leftover candies.

We’ve had lots of firsts over the months. First fire (in the fireplace), first plants (planted in the ground), first storm (with first loss of electricity for a week), first incident requiring a plunger, first lawnmowing and raking, and soon? Our first Christmas tree and first snow. Our first spring.

a handmade envelope

just because

A friend sent a handwritten letter in a nice homemade envelope the other day, and I’ve been carrying it with me ever since.

Slipping it between the screen and keyboard of my laptop.

Sometimes I’ll put it in my pocket and find it again just before bed, setting it by my glasses for pick-up the next morning.

Soon? It will likely serve time as a bookmark.

I even updated my homepage with more artwork from this scan.

I’m not obsessing, really. (Trust me, I spend way too much time on political websites of late to have time to be obsessed about anything else).

It’s just that I wanted to remember to make note of this note.

I want to write one back.

Then write dozens more.

In lieu of doing just that, I’m writing this journal entry.

It’s not the same—I know—but it is a reminder.

Virtual string around the finger.

Categorized as Friends