Bookends

book·end   
noun
a support placed at the end  of a row of books  to hold them upright, usually used in pairs.

Twenty-four years ago I moved to Texas -- seven months pregnant and the mother of a two year old. Pregnant, I wasn't exactly an ideal job candidate. Home with the first child and then a new baby was unfamiliar territory for me, the working girl. Each day I listened to the lady across the street drive away to work and was extremely jealous. I began another day of uncertainty, trapped in a house in a new town with two babies and no friends.

My mom and dad arrived in town shortly after the birth of the second child to help me for a couple of weeks. My husband, very serious about his career, worked long days and I appreciated the help my folks gave me.

However, mothers can be mothers. One afternoon she walked with my two year old to the neighborhood park. At home, the baby napped and I took one, too. Next thing I awoke to was my mother standing beside me.

"Come outside," she said. "I want you to meet someone."

My heart collapsed. I felt like I was five again. I recalled this scene from my childhood to the detail. My mother had found a friend for me. For me, the shy, little girl who couldn't find her own friends. My mother waltzing on air to introduce me to my new friend -- and me, wanting to hide in the bathroom.

I trudged out to the driveway where a young woman my age stood beside a minivan. "This is Rebekah," my mom said. "She gave us a ride home from the park."

I stood in the yard, shuffling my feet back and forth, blushing I'm certain, saying my hellos. My mother's new friend had two children -- a beautiful little blonde girl about two with a mad look on her face and a boy of three, who whipped out the pistols in his gun belt and shot me.

Suffice to say, 24 years later, that little boy with the guns is now getting a Masters in Creative Writing at a London university and "Mad Maddy" is madly in love in Vancouver. Rebekah and I are still friends and from that union a grand group formed -- the Bunco Bitches.

I have my mom to thank for that.

Rebekah and I met the rest of our motley crew while pushing our kids in the swings at the park. We weren't always bitches, but we are now. We don't necessarily remember anyone's birthday with any consistency. We all have different professions, friends, and activities that keep us apart except for once a month on the second Tuesday when we gather to eat and drink and yack. We haven't played bunco in over 12 years. But we are who we are and when we get together, there is no pretense. We put up with each other just because.

Being together for so long, it is kind of like home. We take each other in no matter what. Very often, it is the safest place I know to go.

In September, I hosted Bunco Bitch LakeFest. I knew at that time my mom was having great difficulty and that her life would change very soon. I didn't know she was to die, but I knew we were headed on a new journey. I'm uncertain exactly what my mother's journey may now be, but I know mine is rather emotionally-wracked at the moment. Most fortunate for me LakeFest served as the left bookend to the beginning of the past month and Bunco Bitch BeachFest bookended the right.

This weekend, Rebekah hosted the BeachFest at the Gulf Coast. I must say, Friday afternoon after our arrival, I sat up on the Bird's Nest deck of her beach house and with the sea before me and a slew of ships and sailboats coming in and out of the harbor, I took the first breath I'd taken in quite a few weeks. Glass of spirits in my hand, sunshine overhead, a clear view before me, I couldn't think of any place more comforting at that moment.

So, must share. Lake first, then the beach.

Remember the Recreation Station? It had blown down the lake so this crew swam down and retrieved it. Notice the supervisor on the right.

Not quite as comfortable as we'd hoped.

Naps allowed.

Reading garbage

Eat, Float, Drink

Graceful Rope Swing Entrance


LIFE INTERVENES

View from the Bird's Nest - the path to the Gulf of Mexico

Bitches at Work

 

Chair Yoga

See us way out there?

Show Off

Now, onto the next bookshelf.

Soaking for A While

"And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter and sharing of pleasure. For in the dew of little things the heart finds it morning and is refreshed. 

Kahlil Gibran

Old? Who? Me?http://bernie-oldwho--me.blogspot.com/

Downside to Writing - Life

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.

Ray Bradbury

I'm writing my second novel. For about six years now. Back in July, I isolated myself - Butt in Chair - for an entire week in an effort to recover and organize the work I had only touched a few times in the past few years. I had success. I whittled down 50,000 words to 36,000, organized my notes, made new ones, adjusted my characters' needs, wants, thoughts, and paths. Silenced my writing friend's swinging whip and sent off a new chapter by week's end.

With brief interludes caused by real life, I now have 46,000 (goal 80,000 - 90,000) words and a main character long past stuck in a wheat field in South Dakota. She's now in Montana, further entrenched. More important, I've figured out my antagonist's secret. Knew she had one, just wasn't sure exactly what it was.

I love it when my mind is in the scenes on my pages and the day sweeps by like only a few minutes. It takes so long to get into that mind frame, yet only a moment for it to go away and a complete disconnection to occur while my two worlds attempt to rejoin.

Stepping back from the lives I've created in my writing and running smack dab into the people I live and socialize with catches me off guard. Like I'm caught floating from cloud to cloud, dilly dallying the day away. In my world of fiction writing, my characters are bigger than life, where they do and say things I never would have the guts to do or say. When I live in their world, I am someone else.

The shift to Earth is not easy as words - in verbal format - fail me. Most often, they come out damn wrong. My real world becomes one I don't fit into - like getting a large octagon through a small oval. Makes me want to stay in my written world. Much easier when I'm controlling everything - if that makes any sense.

Ever feel that way? And not just in regard to writing?

Stations of Recreation

Pleasure is the bait of sin.

Plato

Around the second week of August, before Ian, aka Bama Boy, went back to school, we had some wind out at the lake accompanied by a faux rainstorm. My husband, Bama Boy, and I all sat in the living room looking out the window, thinking if it weren't so hot, 104 degrees, we might go swimming. Ian then noticed something large, that wasn't a boat, floating across the lake. We traded the binoculars to see that coming our direction was a renegade party barge. A Recreation Station.

Perfect. We were pumped. It was my birthday weekend. Oldest son Jacob and wife, Chelsea, were headed out to the lake for a special dinner. What could add to the weekend more than a place to sit, chat, slip off and swim, and float while celebrating?

The barge was due to land a few houses down at the point, so being the neighborly folks we are, Ian drove his truck down there and pulled it from the water as it hit shore.

Bob and Ian pondered their find.

Certainly they could stick it in the garage, clean it up, and next year put it out in front of our place like it was ours.

Or, we could anchor it out by our dock so that its true owners could find it while they swept the lake in search of their detached property.

Decided that was the more neighborly of the two choices. But we figured as long as it was anchored at our place, we could use it. Right? Make sure it stayed in working order?

Just as Bob and Ian hauled it out to the end of the dock and put together an anchor to secure it, a jet ski came up along the shore. The three of us swore, to ourselves, for surely these were the owners. Of course they were.

They pointed out where they lived down and across the lake and said we could come use the float anytime we wanted. We wondered if drinks and dinner were included, but we only nodded and retreated to the house, watching our Recreation Station bob along the waves back to its home. Our eyes teared up.

This past Sunday, the wind arrived at the lake. Big wind from Tropical Storm Lee. We had guests for the weekend and that night we spent our time on the dock, enjoying the cooler temperatures (92) offering relief from over 80 days of 100+ temperatures. White-capped waves crashed at the shore and the wind blew with wild abandon. One friend played the guitar and the rest of us sang along or drank our wine and talked. Over the wind, I heard my husband call out.

"Julie, look at this."

Lo and behold, guess what floated across the waves, directly to our dock. Recreation Station. You betcha - karma. We captured the beast and anchored it to the end of the dock, the wind tearing at the ropes. Secured. We glanced across the lake to the house where it lived. No lights. No one home. Cool.

Had to text Bama Boy to let him know our past effort wasn't in vain. That the party barge had returned to those who appreciated it. Fate now tied to our very own dock.

Through the night and all the next day the station rolled with the waves from the strong winds. When I woke up Tuesday morning, I found this scene. The winds gone and the Recreation Station still awaiting its owners to retrieve it.

Bunco Bitches are due here next weekend. Cross your fingers.

Fire

Our prayers for others flow more easily than those for ourselves. This shows we are made to live by charity.

C.S.Lewis

With 80+ days of 100 degree + heat in drought-stricken Central Texas this summer, we welcome a breeze, although remain quite leery -- for good reason. Our area has become most vulnerable with our lack of moisture.

This past Sunday, Tropical Storm Lee brewed and dropped heavy rains in areas that may not have needed it, and also in places where rain was welcome. But not here. Central Texas received a ten degree drop in temperature, low humidity, and massive winds which created havoc. Quick fire.

Fueled by months of drought laden timber and countryside, fire spread throughout several populated areas. The wind continued just as strong on Monday as fires swept away hundreds of homes and forests. This video by Texas Parks and Wildlife shows how quickly the fire spread in Bastrop County. Can give you an idea of how little time people had to evacuate.



Very scary.

Our winds have died down. The firefighters have made gains on containment although danger remains and many acres in several different places remain ablaze. Over 38000 acres have burned. Over 650 homes destroyed.

Several of the smaller yet home destroying fires have been within ten miles of my home, but nothing right near us as we watch the sky and the local news. Many at my husband's work have lost their homes. One woman in my Book Club had fire come within 100 yards of her home. Many of her neighbors now homeless.

Those displaced have entered our hearts and minds as many still remain shut off from their homes and word has come that lives have been lost. Now, the community gathers to help put lives back together.

How you can help.
Red Cross
Various opportunities

Return to Tornado Alley

Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid.

Frederick Buechner

AP Photo

Last April 27 a massive tornado struck Tuscaloosa, Alabama. My youngest son, Ian, a then freshman at the University of Alabama, took the following picture just moments after the tornado left on its path to further destruction.

A few days ago, I drove the 11 hour and 38 minute drive with Ian back to Tuscaloosa for his sophomore year. (On the road again. Seems to have become my mantra.) Our arrival rekindled many memories for him - not such great memories of his hasty departure from a city without power or water. Of the newly homeless wandering aimlessly. The agonizing search for loved ones.

We returned to the location where he had taken that picture and he took another.

The sky is blue and no longer menacing. The destruction, albeit somewhat more organized, remains.

This small lake, still filled with debris. A dumpster. Pieces of wood. Pieces of homes. The wrecking crew slowly plows through the once upon a time neighborhood, hauling away the pieces of once upon a time lives. Many demolished homes await the crew that makes its way methodically through the mess that once held such life.

All this land, once filled with homes and businesses. Trees.

Life does go on. This path through the university quad this day bustles with new and returning students. The first day of the new semester, teachers and students, take on the new year in spite of the anxieties many retain from the frantic aftermath.

My boy included.
New room, new classes, new adventures awaiting.
Of course, this meant I had one of those goodbyes that stab my heart.

"Be good, Ian. Do well. I'll see you sometime - soon."

Awful quiet around here.

The Adventure Continues - Blowing Down the Road

I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it...People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.

Alice Walker, The Color Purple, 1982

{This post has taken longer to put together than the entire trip. I don't want to download any more photos to Blogger for a very long time.}

Middle son, Jordan, and I continued our adventurous trek through Wyoming. After a good night's sleep following a day of geological delights, the Thermopolis hot springs, and the Buffalo Bill Historical Museum we headed out from Cody to take on Yellowstone National Park.

Finally Yellowstone.

This was our first view of geothermal activity. Smoke coming up out of the rocks on the roadside.

We stopped at places where we could read signs, like this one explaining that grizzly bear live in places like this.

When we turned around to look on the other side of the road, our jaws dropped. Damn, it was a bear. Right there in the middle. A grizzly bear. We watched him swim all the way to another island. He definitely swims laps faster than me.

From Yellowstone Lake to the Yellowstone River.

"Hey, we'll take your picture if you'll take ours."

The water was bringing it.

Jordan liked taking pictures of the Cutthroat Trout, waterfowl, and bugs. Me?
I had to take a picture of my shoes, of course.

Then, we spotted the buffalo.

They got closer...

and closer...
and a little too close.

Hey, big boy.
I made Jordan a bet that park rangers bring these guys in on a truck in the morning. Set them up beside the road. Then at dusk, come back, blow a whistle, and the buffalo all file back on the truck. Sleep in a barn overnight.
Jordan just looked at me, wondering how he ended up with me.

Onto the sulfur mud springs.
Nice. Bubble, bubble. Gurgle, gurgle.

Another stop light in the middle of no where. At least this one had actual workers, doing something.

This was Jordan's favorite part of the trip. After enjoying the hot springs the previous day, I couldn't wait to find another spring. We ventured to the Madison Junction campsite. Big signs said you had to register to drive through and Jordan pointed to them as I drove by. My guidebook said to go to a certain campsite, park at the bathroom, and find a small trail. We found it and then found the scene above.

You can see how the water was bubbling.

This one too, That little section in front of the river was hot, hot, hot, but certainly soakable. Several hikers passed us as they headed downstream to a more well known swimming hole. They didn't have my guidebook and I most certainly didn't share what they were passing.
I didn't make Jordan go swimming again. And a few miles down the road, he said, "Are we done with the hot spring hunting now?"
I closed my hot spring book, earmarked with several more spots.
"Yes, we are."

Onto a spot for lunch.Salmon jerky, elk sausage, Brie cheese, carrots, bananas, cinnamon bread spread with honey. Animal crackers. Wine for later.

We moved from the beautiful water to this -- the Geyser Basin.

Paint pots.

Reminded me of the blue in the Caribbean

And then, Old Faithful. Jordan and I sat there for 85 minutes waiting for it to go off. Just as it began to bubble, my camera died. Go figure. Jord covered me though. He got 21 pictures of it.
We drove away from the multitude of tourists and buses and back into the country. As we came to a rare intersection, I spotted a moose cow right by the road. As Jordan was teasing me that I didn't have a camera ready, we came upon all these cars parked on the road.

Had to stop, see what was going on.

Bear JamOur second grizzly of the day. Everybody was scrambling around to get good photos. Poor park rangers trying to keep people from standing on the bridge and getting run over. Some people running to get the shot. Crazy.

After a pleasant night at the Grant Village, a bison burger eaten in a restaurant right on the 141 mile around Yellowstone Lake, we headed out the next morning. Came across this group on a float trip.

As the Teton Range began to peak out at us through the haze, we came across a herd of elk. Due to bear activity, we couldn't walk further into the area.

Then incredible beauty rose before us, and we hit every roadside stop to take it in.

"Hey, we'll take your picture if you'll take ours."

Happened upon this church - The Chapel of the Transfiguration

I'm thinking I would have a hard time concentrating on the sermon in this incredible place.
A side note - two days before, we were driving through a small Wyoming town. Came across a church with a big white sign on the side. OPEN SUNDAYS.
Cracked us up.

On to Jackson - and lunch. A pesto calzone accompanied by a Teton Ale.

Our hotel room - The Anglers Inn

A walk about town. All the sidewalks are made of wood and Jordan's boots sounded cool against the wood. Kind of like the old westerns. Just needed a horse to leave at a trough.

Town Square

Dance Hall

Delphiniums. I so can't grow them at home.

The best part of the restaurant where we ate dinner. (Youngest son, Ian, was right. Don't eat Mexican in Wyoming.) Loved the artwork, though.

Next morning, we picked up the local paper and had breakfast. I took this photo as sometimes I look at my children and they remind of when they were a child. Same pose. Have seen this one many times.

Of course, payback is a bitch.

Had the best Eggs Benedict. Open all day. Would go back for dinner, but...


...it was time to get back to Jordan's ranch.

Anyone know what kind of animal this is hanging on the wall in his cabin?

While Jordan cooked me dinner, I sat on his front porch and

kibitzed with one of his friends.

Who told Jord's other friends to come by and say hello.

Next morning it was time to drive back to Denver and catch a flight home. I don't like goodbye's. I'm not very good at them. So I stole a line from my dad, who wasn't very good at them either.

"I'll see you sometime," I said to Jord as I honked and drove away.