Houston Play Day

This morning, Jan came to get Judy and me, and took us to...

The Houston Museum of Natural History.

Seriously, the best dinosaur exhibit I've ever seen. Like, anywhere. (And I've seen a lot of dinosaurs. Dennis is my father.) The way they had them set up was super cool... and freaky. Predators were in chase, sea monsters had been hung from the ceiling. The lighting was... eerie.

It was awesome.

The very best part of the exhibit was that I made friends with a docent (you know how sometimes I just randomly smile at people, esp older men, and then they want to be my friend? well.... that happened), and he gave us a personal tour of both the dinosaur and Egyptian exhibits. It was really cool to have a subject matter expert showing us the highlights of the exhibits.

But the, hands down, coolest part of the day was when he brought me over to see this bad boy. He could not have possibly known what it would mean to me, when he told me the stories of how forensic paleontologists can often tell how a dinosaur died, by looked at the bones. (Breaks in a T-Rex's tail could cause them to bleed out and die. If the fossils have scar tissue, it's an indicator that a dinosaur healed from a fight that caused tail-breakage, whereas if there is a clean break in the vertebra, and the break is high enough in the tail, it's a likely assumption that the dinosaur bled out and died. Crazy, right?) But this little dude (uhm... not actually so little, I can't remember his name, but he's a T-Rex progenitor)... he had cancer. Most likely brain cancer (they found fossilized masses inside his cranial cavity) that metastasized to the bone. If you zoom in in this pic, you'll see the calcification on his breast bone.

I sat there, in amazement. You guys, cancer has been around forever. It wasn't always diagnosed, or treated, the way it is now. But cancer has been around forever. Like, it's a prehistoric disease. Crazy. And awesome.

Also, at the Museum of Natural History...  A FREAKING FABERGE EXHIBIT! (Which is actually why we went in the first place. This girl loooooooooves sparkly stuff. And Russian Tsarists history.) Because who wouldn't want to see an exhibit compromised almost entirely of eggs and jewels made for and owned by a royal family? 

This was one of the big eggs. Like, the ones you see on TV or in movies when someone's trying to pull a heist. It was massive. Maybe 6 inches tall? (8, if you include the cherub) All real gold. All real jewels.

These big eggs were the original Faberge eggs, with the treasure within the egg. Typically crafted as an Easter gift, for women in the royal family.

These minis were about the sweetest little thing. They were about an inch in height. Same incredible details in the design that the large Faberge eggs had, but these were made to be worn as charms. (Necklace or bracelets.)

The eggs in this display are... well... "egg sized", for the most part. Some are a  little larger than a standard egg that you'd buy at the store in a styrofoam container, but most of them are, seriously, chicken egg sized. There were three or four panels like this against one wall.

And here's a close up of some of the eggs, so you can see the detail.

I swoon.

And... did you know? Faberge made more than eggs. Like, say... jewel encrusted opera glasses.

Custom jewelry.

This is a pendant created for Alexandra Romanov. 

Cigarette cases and snuff boxes.

It was, seriously, so awesome. I love museums, like, with my whole heart. So, when I found out that the hotel had free/serious discounts for all the museums in the Houston area, it was my heart's desire to spend as many hours as I could stand walking the halls of a museum. ... Too bad I only lasted about 25 minutes standing, but Jan was a helper and went out and got me a wheelchair. All told, we were in the museum for about three hours. I made friends with the security guard at the Faberge exhibit, who told me which of the eggs was a counterfeit purchased by the collector in haste, and caught by the museum's authentication process. (It's the purple one in the top right corner of the multi-pic.) The materials were authentic, but it was a recent forgery -- not a treasure that was 100+ years old. The collector didn't take issue, since the relative value of the egg was close to the price they paid. (Maybe not the "deal" they thought they were getting, but they weren't totally swindled, either.) They keep it in the exhibit for the story.

Man alive, I love my life. I'm so glad we traveled yesterday for my appointments tomorrow, so today could just be a play day. I'm so far past tired that I can't... even. But today has been so great.

Some days...

...are harder than others. Some days, I feel sicker and weaker and the pain is so bad that I can hardly stand over the kitchen counter as I shovel in just the noodles and carrots from my beloved Progresso Chicken Noodle Soup.

These are usually the same days that I get the hiccups because my body is too tired to deal with reality.

These are the days that I spend in bed.

But my bed is pretty sweet, and I have the most excellent views... so, outside of whining for a minute about how much the hiccups hurt when a girl has sores in her throat, I don't have too much to complain about.

I have sunshine, and a water view.

I have more books than I can read, more shoes than I can wear, and multiple bags for every season/outfit.

I have Blue Bloods to keep me company.

And more scarves than your average department store.

I have this sweet view into my kitchen. What you may not be able to make out, but what I know is there: a "Friendship is Priceless" plaque that my First American coworkers gave me when I moved to Mesa nine years ago (their signatures are all over the back of it), the green and white dishes that were my Grammy's first set of dishes when she went to college in the late 1930's, the two small square paintings that hang over my kitchen sink that were in my Grandma's mint green kitchen my entire childhood, and the Bacon sign my faux cousin sent me for my 40th birthday. (Oh, and a lot of meds, more than one set of salt & pepper shakers and some nail polish.)

A print of Mary and the baby Jesus that I always intended to hang in a nursery. But since the nursery dream hasn't happened, they watch over me. A clock that Julie and Everett got for free from RC Willey, but Everett didn't  like, so I inherited it. (I love it. It has a solid tick tock, and I am a woman who loves the sound of a ticking clock. So much so that I have a ticking clock in every room of my tiny little home. I find the tick tock grounding. It soothes my occasionally troubled soul.) And a walk-in closet full of more clothes than I'll probably ever wear.

So, it's a day that I am immobile and bedfast. But I am in a room that I love, surrounded by things that are near and dear to my heart. On days like this, I am grateful that I CAN just lie in bed, that I don't have to leave the house to go to work, that I have been blessed to be able to stay in my own tiny little home as I do this - the hardest thing my body has ever done. I am tired, and my body hurts, and I want/need this day to end in a solid night's sleep, but I am alright. Because I am here.

Happy International Day of Happiness!

It's thing. (See? You can look it up here.)

God bless Cousin Katie for knowing such a thing and broadcasting it on the Facebook while I still had enough time in the day to consciously make time to be happy.

Not that I wasn't happy before I read the news, but still... any excuse to seek out the happy in my life is a good one!

To that end, I've whipped up a short little list of the things that are making me happy today:

Raindrops on Roses
Whiskers on Kittens
Bright copper kettles
Warm woolen mittens
Cream color ponies
Crisp apple streudels
Doorbells
Sleigh bells
Schnitzel with noodles...

JUST KIDDING! (You've got to know I cracked myself up with that...)

Here's MY real Happy List:

Books
Banana Popsicles
Banana Creamies (EVEN BETTER!)
Wheat Bagels
Red Petunias
Sam Axe
Good Friends
Laughter
Music
Raspberry Yogurt
Feather Pillows
Cadbury Eggs
Runny Fried Eggs
Airplanes
Kittens
Hugs

The list could go on and on (if you've been here before, you would know that I could make lists all day long), but I really want to sign off so I can get back to two of the top three items on my list. I have a book to finish, and one last banana Creamie in the freezer.

So, I'm going to go and be happy, doing (and eating) what I love best. Please do the same.

Confessions of a popcorn addict

Do you see this bowl?

This is my popcorn bowl.

It is huge.

I mean... HUGE.

As in, it takes three bags of microwave popcorn to fill this bowl.

I'm telling you, it's a big bowl.

Tonight, I took popcorn to a movie night at a friend's house. I took this bowl FULL of popcorn, and an extra large bag of popcorn from Harkins. (I went and picked up the popcorn at the theater. Added the fancy theater butter and all.) I paid for my extra large bag - dumped it into a bag I'd brought with me, and then handed it back to the kid and asked for my free refill.

What I'm saying is... I took a lot of popcorn to this party.

And no one ate it. (Weird, right?)

When I left, I took the bowl with me. (I left the bag there, but I brought home the bowl. Not really to be nice... more, because I knew that if I had both the bowl AND the bag, I'd eat them both.)

This is how much I ate on my way home tonight.

Do you see that?

I ate more than half of my HUGE bowl of popcorn on my way home. ... It was a ten mile drive.

Man alive, I love popcorn. As in, I could eat my weight in popcorn. (Clearly.)

Tomorrow's gonna be a great day. ... Stale popcorn is right up there with chocolate cake, as far as breakfast food goes around here.

The very best part of being tired all the time.

Beyond the obvious perk of sleeping 8-10 hours a night without the use of sleep aids, the best part of being tired all the time is the view from my couch.

Here's how my typical day goes: I roll out of bed at 6:00, and am on my way to work by 6:30. I usually get home between 3:30 and 4:00. And then I hit the couch.

Sometimes I lie down for an hour and then get up and make something (like a bowl of soup or maybe an egg sandwich... I'm so gourmet) for dinner. Sometimes I hop in the shower, and wash my hair so it can dry before I go to bed. (Showering still wipes me out. Esp if I have to wash my hair. You know, the two days a week that I do that. I can't shower in the morning and still get ready for work in 30 minutes, so I take care of that in the evening.)

By 5:30, I'm usually back to camping on the couch. And I stay there until bedtime. (AKA: 9:00 PM.) Sometimes I fall asleep before bedtime and then wake up in the middle of the night and walk back to my bedroom, but, without fail, I am on the couch for hours every evening.

And the view is magnificent.

I tell you what, I love my couch. I love my little apartment. I love the big sliding glass door in my living room that lets a little bit of the outside world in. I love the canvas that is the Arizona sky at sunset.

One of the very best things about having gotten sick is that it forced me to slow down. (Not that I was ever one to be going really fast through life, but still...)

I'm pretty sure that the very best part of being tired all the time is that I am parked on my couch every night, in front of a view like this.

It's moments like this that I am grateful for a body that doesn't work as well as it used to, for the opportunity to be here. Now. Watching the sun set.

I am, indeed, a small town girl.

Here is a true story, from my actual life:

When I was home for Christmas, my mom and sister and I were sitting, talking, in the front room by the tree. It was dusk, and as we were talking, my mom realized that I was staring intently at/out the window. (To fully understand why it struck her as odd that I'd be staring intently out the window, let me tell you what you can see out that window. ... Three of Sam and Sharon's (barren, wintry) trees and Mocina's empty driveway. That is to say, not much.)

My mom stopped talking and asked me what I was looking at. My response? "The window."

Mom: "The window?"

Me: "Yeah. The window. And the Christmas lights. This is my favorite time of the day, when the sun starts to go down and you can actually see the lights on the trees get brighter in the reflection on the glass."

Insert silent pause here.

Me: "See? They just got brighter!"

Mom chuckled, and then, wryly, said "You really are a small town girl, aren't you?"

Yes, yes I am.

Born and raised, thanks. Small town, through and through.

Even now that I am back in the city, it seems that all I want to do is sit and look at the reflection of the lights. In the patio window. Against the pool. ... On the TV.

That's right. It's the middle of January and still have my tree up. Don't judge. ... I love the lights. They bring me joy.

Probably because I grew up in a small town, just off a dirt road. And I'm good with that.

December 8

I love this time of year!

I do.

I LOVE IT!

I love that I have a perfect excuse to make fudge (often, multiple times a week). I love the smell of spices when Jenni's grandma's ginger molasses cookies are baking in my oven. I love the lights on my tree, and the perfect excuse to snuggle up with a blanket and watch two (or more) Christmas movies in a row.

Christmas movies bring me joy.

Not just momentary happiness.  I'm talking real, actual J-o-y.

I love them!

I love the memories that come flooding back every time I watch White Christmas. My mom and I used to watch that on Christmas morning, on the couch in the family room, with a bag of Cheetos between us, after everyone else had gone back to bed. We'd cry and we'd sing and we'd laugh and then we'd cry again. (As for me and my house, "We'll follow the old man wherever he wants to go!")

I love that I can't watch Miracle on 34th Street without texting my cousins and trading movie quotes across state lines. I love that Julie used to try and make me throw rocks at the old BY Academy and make a wish, like it was the old Granville house. (I never did it, only because I knew I didn't have the upper arm strength to clear the ten foot chain link fence, let alone hit a window.)

I love how quotable Christmas movies are!

"I like to smile. Smiling's my favorite."

"... latent maniacal tendencies"

"In some ways, you're far superior to my cocker spaniel."

"I'm Linda Mason."

"Ask Dad. He knows."

"Christmas isn't just a day, it's a frame of mind."

I've been on a steady all-holiday-movies-all-the-time diet since Thanksgiving day, and it has been a delight and a joy to have had a steady stream of merry media playing in my living room. I own all of my favorites on dvd, of course, but when I need to inject some new holiday-themed movie blood into my life, I stream something through the beloved blu-ray. (Don't get me wrong, Netflix has a lot of laaaaaame Christmas movies in their arsenal, but some of them are decent. And a few of them are really quite good!)

I love this time of year. I love fudge and I love cookies. I love the sights and the smells of the season, and the sound of Salvation Army bells. I love the excuse to wear red every single day of the week and that I have a solid reason to tell everyone I come into contact with that I love them.

Man alive, I love this time of year! ... Now, I think I'll go whip up a batch of cherry-chocolate fudge for dinner. (Listen, it has fruit in it, and fruit's totally good for you!) And then I'm gonna watch a Christmas movie.

I lead a charmed, blessed, happy life, full of chocolate and cheer ... and cheesy Christmas movies ... and I love it!

November 8

I got the most unexpected (and amazing, and totally awesome) package in the mail.

Seriously. Unexpected. Amazing. And totally awesome.

I picked up my regular mail, and was surprised to see a little "we left a package for you in the office" slip there amongst the bills and political mailings.

When I went to the office to pick up said box, I was surprised to see the return address. Romney/Perez in Louisville, Kentucky. ... Huh, what in the world could Shannie be sending me?

Enter me carrying a fair sized box that weighed next to nothing back to my apartment. As soon as I cut the tape and peeled back the top of the box, I smelled it...

Fall.

That's right. Fall has a smell.

My old roommate, one of the sweetest people I have ever known and dearest friends I have ever had, sent me Fall in a box.

This is a garbage bag FULL of leaves, stuffed into a box and mailed to a Fall-loving girl who happens to live in a part of Arizona where Fall is celebrated because the temperature goes down to the high 80's, rather than a season of color that ushers in the winter holidays.

Awh, man. I love Fall leaves. But I love my friends (Shannon and Pat, her mom) who walked the streets of Kentuckiana, picking up leaves to send to me, even more.

I have the best life, and the best friends. Ever.

The End.

Reason #723 Why I Love My Hometown

My mom forwarded the following email to me with the comment "Don't you just love Taylor?"

Subject: House for rent and chickens for sale

My friends are looking for someone to take over their rent. It is a 2 bedroom 1 bath with a huge sun room. The rent is $700 (approx). If you are willing to help with irrigation etc., the price would be less. She also has 2 roosters & 8 laying hens that she needs to sell, as well as a little blind chick that she is wanting to give to someone who is looking for a pet chicken. It can eat & drink by itself. The house is on Tumbleweed Lane.

Why, yes. Yes, I do love Taylor. (And, yeah, Tumbleweed is an actual street name in my hometown. Awesome, right?)

Like the pioneer children...

We walk and walk and walk and walk and walk. And we see the most beautiful things on our walks, folks. Come along, I will show you.

The flowers.

Snapdragons. They scream "Spring!" at me. I love them.



Petunias. They always remind me of my Grammy & Grandad. Their smell transports me through time and space, it really does.



Johnny Jump Ups. How cute are they? Little mini-pansies. A-freakin-dorable.



Irises. Who knew you could grow bulb plants in the desert? Who knew?!



Geraniums. I like red and super blossomy flowers. A lot. This makes geraniums one of my favorite flowers.



The bushes/hedges/etc...

Ahhhh... Bougainvillea, I love you so. Had you ever gotten close enough to notice that the "flowers" are actually just red leaves? I hadn't. Super cool. (And check out the awesome flower-shaped stamen.)



Would you take a look at these red beauties? I want a bush of them at my house. I mean, at my apartment. On my balcony, if possible. (Too bad it isn't possible. Because now that I've seen these, I really (REALLY) want them close to me.)

I'm in love.



The thing is, I'm also deeply in love with the orange version of the same flowering bush. IN LOVE, I tell you. Would you take a look at that? Oh my goodness gracious!



And how cute are these little orangey-pinky flowers on the hedge at my actual apartment complex? Adorable. I adore them. (Because they're adorable. Get it? ... Cracking myself up over here.)



These pink budded scrub-brushy plants are all over the place. I enjoy them, esp when the sun's hitting them and they look especially pink. Such fun little native Arizonan plants, methinks.



But did you know that these little pink guys actually BLOSSOM? Check out the yellow-orangey little flowers just budding out all over this thing. Beautiful!



The Trees.

These trees kill me. I mean, they do. They kill me with their yellow blossoms. Have you ever seen a more gorgeous yellow tree branch? I submit that you have not.



And because I am IN LOVE with the yellow blossoms, let me show you the same tree from a different angle.

Oh my gosh. In love!



And why do I love these trees? (Besides how incredibly awesome they look when they're all blossomed out in an almost florescent yellow?) Check out the blossom. It's tiny and intricate and delicate and... GORGEOUS! Those little red dots? I just think they're incredible!



Look at this. It's like a tree mated with a carnation... Awesome!



Except that when you look a little closer, they're less like carnations and more like jasmine. (But they're not jasmine, they're blossoms on a tree. Crazy!)



And here they are, just a little bit closer. How amazing is the center of that little flower? My stars. It blows my mind.



These purple trees are some of my favorites. They remind me of lilac bushes, but different. You know, since they're trees.



The blossoms are thick and clustered at the end of the branches. Stunning. The color? Unbelievable and almost unnatural. I'm in love...



Would you take a look at this tree? The size of it alone is pretty impressive, but wait until you see a close-up of all those pink flowers that are blossoming all over it.



Honestly, have you ever seen a prettier flower on a tree? Have you? Well, have you? ... I have not. It about took my breath away.



We saw this lovely orange tree on our way home from the park on Sunday. Isn't that awesome?



Check out the orange flowers. They're like little orange trumpets. (I totally thought of Kimmie. I have a Kimmie/trumpet association that cannot be denied. The End.)



And here's an even closer shot at the little orange flowers. Can you see the delicate, almost translucent film at the base of that little flower? Gorgeous!



This is what we lovingly refer to as: The Crazy Red Tree.



Seriously, check it out. Here's a closer shot. It's crazy.



Those red "flowers"? They're just fuzz! ... This tree is nuts.



The Sunsets.

Ahhh... The sunsets. You can't beat an Arizona sunset, you just can't. How beautiful are these? Honestly. They just get prettier, day after day after day. Delish!







I know this was a super long post, folks. It's because we go on a lot of super long walks. Also, there are a lot of super awesome flowers and foliage out there.

This world that we live in is a beautiful place. An absolutely stunningly (and often surprisingly) beautiful place.

The End.