A weekend in favorites

The best thing anyone said to me this weekend was: You look like Elizabeth Taylor, only more wholesome.

The best thing I ate this weekend was something I have never before tasted: It was breaded shrimp in this sweet mayo-like sauce with candied pecans. Oh, and the bowl of flawless huge berries atop chewy granola and Tahitian vanilla yogurt wasn't bad either!

The funniest thing I saw this weekend was a huge missile aimed at the sky on the side of Route 66. Perched on top was, wait for it....Snoopy.

My favorite thing I wore was a new pair of cork wedged heels with silver flecks in the corky part. I buckled them too tightly though, and almost required amputation after dinner.

My favorite person I met was a man who has worked in 32 different countries. He was like Indiana Jones and held me captive as he regaled me with the tale of his 500 mile trip down the Nile river with a bunch of refugees aboard.

My favorite fuzzy moment was waking up with my sweetheart in a pillowy king sized bed and watching The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross. They were happy little trees indeed.

My favorite thing I wanted to buy but didn't was a can of bandaids that looked like strips of bacon.

My favorite traveling song for this weekend was Hurt. The NIN song that Johnny Cash so expertly covered.

Scottsdale, if you weren't an even hotter armpit than Vegas, I'd almost move there.

A Sunday

Oh...my little blog, I still love you. I know it's been a while.

I was strangely reflective today. Like a monk. A really happy monk. I even got teary a few times. I gave out random hugs to people I don't ever hug. It was weird.

I was sitting in church. My observation super powers were working overtime. A 10 month old baby behind me wore the facial expressions of a poised 25 year old pearl -wearing lady. She was a lady- baby and she kept looking at me. Adorable. Her dad directed the choir in a song that made my heart do a Grinchy swelling thing. I watched a plain woman in a simple black dress sing with meaning and joy. It made her so beautiful.

I noticed the soft ringlets curled into a little girl's hair. Her dress and headband so fancy. Her mom - careful and quiet.

I looked around at many faces I knew. People with problems. People I've had problems with. But all of them together in this place. All of us hoping to soak in a little strength. Add some oil to our lamps. Show our God we love him. I felt it, that we all are the same to Him and it made me love those faces.

Then at home some family gathered around my table. We laughed and remembered the time (he who shall remain unnamed) put soap in the fancy Country Club fountains and the suds grew to 8 feet tall and out into the street. We ate bacon wrapped chilis and deviled eggs and drank grape Kool-aid and Dr. Pepper on ice. Little ones who don't want to be little anymore laughed at jokes they didn't quite get. A kid ran through the living room missing his pants and Dad had to go on a turd hunt. Grown -up girls told harmless secrets while grown -up boys did what they do which happened to be giving a test drive to a random dude in a car we weren't selling. Boys.

Then everyone left and I looked at my table. It was sticky with used up fudgescicle sticks, and littered with mostly empty plates. Someone wanted the chili, but not the bacon. I could hear the noise we had just been making and I wanted to call them all back to spend some more time around the table with me.

I feel blessed to be around all of my peeps. All of 'em.