Hermanos! The devil has built a robot!

Numero Cinco ,'The Cautionary Tale of Numero Cinco'


Natter 65: Speed Limit Enforced by Aircraft  

Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, pandas, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.


Lee - Jan 09, 2010 6:52:48 pm PST #464 of 30001
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.

What sarameg said.


Laura - Jan 09, 2010 6:53:13 pm PST #465 of 30001
Our wings are not tired.

I wish there was more we could do, msbelle. Mac is blessed to have a woman with your strength as his mother.


Beverly - Jan 09, 2010 6:53:26 pm PST #466 of 30001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

Absolutely.


quester - Jan 09, 2010 6:59:25 pm PST #467 of 30001
Danger is my middle name, only I spell it R. u. t. h. - Tina Belcher.

{{{{msbelle}}}}


Liese S. - Jan 09, 2010 7:00:48 pm PST #468 of 30001
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."

Yup, that`s the great thing about `ffistas. We`re the support group that goes with you.
 
In trivial news, I`m watching tivo of the Blackhawks game, but it`s the Minnesota Wild station feed. So far there`s been an ad for how well Toyota AWD cars drive in snow, one for ice fishing clothing, and one where the hotel rate is the previous day`s temperature. I think it might be cold up there.


sarameg - Jan 09, 2010 7:05:47 pm PST #469 of 30001

Random: I've been going through boxes of shelves, candleholders and such and been reluctant to hang them. They're nice, my style, etc. But I'm leaving them alone. Why?

And I thought a bit and it because they were in some sense a means of making temporary home. For 12 yrs. But the thing is, my home, my house? Isn't temporary any longer. Even with bare walls, it suits me perfectly. I look back at what I posted upon seeing it, emails, and oh lord, I was so gone. So I'm giving more thought. Sure, it's mine, I can change it. But this is a part of the new life that's been crafted in the past year and I'm disinclined to clutter it from old just because I have it available. I may even part with stuff that made my old home home. Because with this home, it is HOME, all caps, without most of the stuff. There's new to be done. I don't need to carve my mark into white walls. These walls are mine, and the years before.

It's odd.


Liese S. - Jan 09, 2010 7:10:57 pm PST #470 of 30001
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."

Oh, dude I seriously relate. There`s barely anything on the walls because...okay I don`t know the because. Because I don`t have to. Because it`s already home, under the trappings of home. But I have a special shelf for my grandmother`s teapot. And it`s in daily use too because it can be. Love.


aurelia - Jan 09, 2010 7:15:53 pm PST #471 of 30001
All sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story. Tell me a story.

Wishing you easier times ahead, msbelle.


sarameg - Jan 09, 2010 7:18:09 pm PST #472 of 30001

Yeah, the critical stuff got up. It's just the stuff that wasn't emotional, just me, that didn't. Emotional:I've got my artwork from friends, batiks from Africa, stones from Prague. And I want the images from Bhutan and Nepal and the quilt in the rubbermaid hanging in the stairwell...but the latter are recent. The other stuff? I dunno. Maybe it'll find a home. Maybe not. Most of the stuff emotionally important to me got unpacked, placed and quick.


Beverly - Jan 09, 2010 7:33:33 pm PST #473 of 30001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

That's really part of the miracle for us, that we get new. Despite having spent even longer in a place that was never really ours, this felt like home the minute we walke in.

We dragged far more with us than we ever should have, for sure. But we've taken time to live with bare walls, and paged through the art we brought, stuff that hung on the old walls so long it sort of disappeared. I'm glad we brought as much with us as we did, because everything's different. We see things in new ways, and new combinations.

We're waiting for the print we had for years and never had a place to hang--now it's going with a huge oil that used to hang in our bedroom, another oil from my Father-in-law's den H's mom gave us after he died. The colors complement each other and the furniture as though everything was designed together. And the pictures hung in sequence are a progression from the fantasy of childhood through the blending of fantasy with reality, ending in reality with more than a few fantasy elements.

All our walls will probably have something on them--they will just be in new juxtaposition and have taken on new meanings.