I am SO not over this.

(Sentiment swiped from @stephenriley)

A time such as this

We were born for a time such as this.

In which we all have a laugh

This photo makes me giddily happy. Sure, Gervais is no baby coyote, but just look at him! Delightful.

Bursts of Gratitude, Pt. 2

Because it's truly the little things that make me ecstatic.
This morning, it's:

* Coffee, hot
* Sleep, adequate
* It's Thursday but for me it's Friday
* Getting busywork out of the way for a friend/co-worker, since work is slow for me right now -- feeling like a Really Useful Engine Girl
* Getting my hair done tonight
* Wearing a pair of pants that once were too loose, then were too tight for a long time, and now are nearly loose again
* A Democrat in the White House again

My President: Fanf--ingtastic!

This brought me real joy:

When he was preparing for them during the Democratic primaries, Obama was recorded saying, "I don't consider this to be a good format for me, which makes me more cautious. I often find myself trapped by the questions and thinking to myself, 'You know, this is a stupid question, but let me … answer it.' So when Brian Williams is asking me about what's a personal thing that you've done [that's green], and I say, you know, 'Well, I planted a bunch of trees.' And he says, 'I'm talking about personal.' What I'm thinking in my head is, 'Well, the truth is, Brian, we can't solve global warming because I f---ing changed light bulbs in my house. It's because of something collective'.

Via Newsweek by way of H.

Bursts of gratitude

* Two-buck Chuck in a glass yogurt jar on a Friday night
* Friday night!
* Getting to spend the whole day with my son tomorrow (feeding ducks, visiting Sunshine, the stuffed toy cat he named, at the library)
* Friends who listen to my inane ramblings, tell me the truth, dry my tears, love me anyway
* Cascadia Farms' organic salty-and-sweet-with-a-layer-of-chocolate (but organic!!) granola bars
* Bubble baths with new magazines
* All the stupid things I am lucky enough to take for granted
* The internet, with the many lovely people I would otherwise not have met

And many more...

There is a man who changed everything for me.
Because of him, I was able to rewrite my story, the story I keep in my heart about who I am, who I have been, what I will become.
Because he is brave in extraordinary ways, I feel safe.
Because he is extraordinarily brave in small, ordinary things, I am constantly challenged to take his cue and be a better person.
Without his love, his humor, his arch wit, his staggering intelligence, his overwhelming commitment to truth and loyalty, generosity and kindness, I would be only half the person I am.
Equal parts Clint Eastwood , Inspector Clouseau and Mike Patton, he is also, rather improbably, drop-dead gorgeous. [And I am trying very hard not to shout "I WIN!" as I type this.]


Happy birthday, my beloved H.
Thank you for your love that has utterly transformed me.

Everybody loves a baby, that's why I'm in love with you

This afternoon we took the lad to the petting zoo, where this adorable miniature donkey and I fell in love with each other. She nuzzled, she cuddled, and I wanted so much to bring her home, where I would let her sleep on a soft pillow, comb her hair and bring her cookies and milk anytime she wanted them.

(Our son had a great time too.)

Quand tu chantes, je chante

I want this song to follow me everywhere I go. I'd like for it to play constantly, sometimes softer, sometimes louder, as the situation calls for it.

Two Things I Really Like That, For Some Reason, I'd Forgotten About Until Recently:

1. Echo and the Bunnymen. Bring On The Dancing Horses, Seven Seas, The Game, Bedbugs and Ballyhoo. So good.
2. Cary Tennis' column at Salon.com, Since You Asked.

We should all be as happy as kings

Language ranks for me in the top five most delightful inventions of all time. Best not to get me discussing it, as I can wax poetic about its intricacies and idiosyncrasies until normal people are bleeding from the ears. But I do want to share this with you, because it's so lovely and sweet and conveys, I think, the kind of earnest desire to communicate and wish another person well that many of us tend to lack in our daily life. It is excerpted from an email sent by a Chinese colleague about three years ago.

You are always welcome here. We are pleasure to get more support from [my former department] - a global training platform of [parent company]. Your concrete assistance will be appreciated. This Sunday, Chinese traditional Mid-autumn Festival is coming. I wish Sunday night moonlight will bing my best regards to you and your family.
Good luck!

I wish Sunday night moonlight will bing my best regards! How wonderful, no?

Even if time is just a flicker of light

Train madness aside, what a glorious weekend! Cousins, aunts, uncles I hadn't seen in 15 years; children I'd never met! I wish H had been able to come along with us, but never mind--next time. It's hit me all at once, the realization that family really is important, really does matter. We didn't have much family around while my brother and I were growing up, contact with either side was sporadic. These days it seems as though everyone is suddenly making an effort to behave more like family, or maybe it just seems that way now because it matters to me. Whatever the case, there is something to be said for the people who knew you when you were whatever you used to be, the people who will take you in, no questions asked, or lots of nosy questions asked (whatever their style), who have to love you, who have to deal with you, and vice versa. I realize not all families are this way--some are better and some are worse--but for the first time in my life I feel as though I truly have a lifeline that extends beyond my immediate circle. I feel like I have People now, you know. It is pretty great. I wish that for you, too.

The angel in the detail soon arrives

All of a sudden I'm back in touch with my most very favorite cousin ever, T (mentioned here, as a matter of fact). After... oh... seventeen years! Silly. Why did I let so much time go by? In any case, it's crazy-good, maybe bordering on the magical.

That side of my dad's family lives up near San Francisco, so we didn't see them all that frequently. I remember a visit when I was five, and the next time I saw T was 1985, and I was ten years old, just starting to really be interested in music and abstract fashion magazines. My family and I were staying at T's mom's house, and he came in wearing steel-toed Docs, braces that hung down around his legs, cuffed jeans, a white t-shirt and a gray brimmed cap. And I almost fell down the stairs. I couldn't believe anybody related to me was that awesome, so nearly-painfully en pointe. Obviously, I worshipped him for that alone; but as I got to know him it turned out he was also perhaps one of the top five nicest people on earth. Even then, at nineteen, when most guys are far more interested in whatever they do at that age, T made it a point to hang out with my brother and me, to talk to us about music and whatever we were interested in. He and his then-girlfriend would take us shopping on Haight, or in Berkeley. And of course he inherited the wicked sense of humor that runs rampant on that side of the family. He never made me feel like a gawking little kid, which--let's face it--I was. Totally magical for a ten-year-old who didn't fit in at school or in her neighborhood. Of course I still obsessed over every word I spoke to him, tried to make sure I was cool enough, smart enough, whatever enough. I remember being thrilled when I snuck into his room one day while he was at work and realized he had the same black-and-white checkered comforter I had. We were THE SAME KIND OF AWESOME.

Cut to last Friday night; we're on the phone, and I let my son talk to T. When I get the phone back, my cousin comments that L speaks very well. I relate this story from the other day. "Oh!" he says. "I have a story for you, then!"

Apparently, some time around 1989-90, T (who works in construction) and his foreman were in San Francisco, driving down Haight, when they spotted three guys walking around with TV cameras following them. [At this point I interrupted and let him know that this was going to end badly, with an extreme case of jealousy on my end.]

Hey, that's Crowded House! T says to the foreman.

Who's Crowded House? the foreman asks.

This band, T says. He leans out the passenger side window. Hey! Crowded House! [Note: not actually anyone's name.]

Neil looks up and says hello back. T offers Neil a ride; Neil jumps into the cab next to T. By some stroke of providential genius, "Don't Dream It's Over" happens to be playing on the radio. Neil shouts this to the camera crew, turns up the radio and sings along with it loudly.

(At some point, the foreman asks Neil about his suit; a lime-green affair. Something like, Hey man, why you wearin' that suit? T answers the foreman: Because he's a rock and roll guy! You're a foreman, so you have to wear those Carrhart coveralls.)

T says, We drove around like that for a little while, real slow, the cameras were following us. Oh! And I used to have, you remember those metal lunchboxes with the rounded tops? I had one of those and he signed it for me!

I ask if he still has it.

I might... I have some things in storage from that time. Tell you what, I'm going to see if that's in there, and if I still have it, it's yours.

It's silly, yes. Silly and wonderful. I wish I could go back in time and tell my nervous little self that one day T would be apologizing for not having returned my call sooner, that we'd be real family, but more than that: friends, and that I would never again worry about not being cool enough. But she probably wouldn't have believed me.

The Happy List

Just under the wire, I'm participating in Pink of Perfection's July project: a list of that which makes one happy.

This is a partial list and will continue to grow.

* Any one of the five senses as applied to my husband and son (sight, smell, touch, taste, hear)
* A nap on the couch, under a blanket, on a cold day
* An airplane lifting off to begin a journey
* The moment of impact at touchdown on an airplane
* The moment when I know that something I've written is finished
* The sound, sight and smell of the ocean
* A very good gin and tonic (preferably made with either Wet by Beefeater or Hendrick's Gin)
* Driving with no particular agenda except to think and to sing along with the radio [sadly, due to cost, this is slowly becoming obsolete]
* Kittens [twee, I know, but who doesn't love a tiny, furry, baby animal that mews?]
* Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" always makes me feel like there's a parade happening just for me
* Waking up on a cold morning under a heavy pile of blankets [can you tell I am really tired of summer?]
* The smoky, gleeful, uncontrollable sound of my friend Bob's laughter
* The gritty elegance of William Gibson's writing
* Beginning a new (offline) diary
* When my son climbs up the back of my chair, puts an arm around me, and, beaming, says, "Hi, Kiddo!"
* The soundtrack to Amelie
* Boots! [O, Summer, wilt thou never end?]
* Getting away from pavement and power lines, being surrounded by trees, grass, rocks and sky
* Laugh attacks with my nearest and dearest over things that no one else would find remotely amusing
* The feeling of typing along at a good clip, writing something I know is going to work