JUST Right.

Well - it was a fit of fancy over in Eastern Wa with the girls (oh, and Tino) this weekend.

There was the pretty bride-to-be, Chriselda, and her ladies.

 
There was the future owner of one fabulous house.  Dig that paint color, Sum!

There were friend's parents that I've loved for a long, long time.

There were babies that I fell in love with instantly.

And there were the ah-fiance'd.  Gawd, the whole thing was fab.

Dave and I also had a chance to hang out together for a minute or two - sans the stinkly lizard children.

We chose to spend our time reading books at B&N, eating good Mexican food and seeing The King's Speech.  Such a good movie - can Colin Firth do wrong?  No.  No is the answer to that question.

Dave also helped me practice up on how to read the histogram on my camera.  Which meant he stood there while I took about a hundred pictures of him in different light and with different settings on my camera. All this to help me learn to work with light on the fly.

His engineering sensibility really comes in handy sometimes.  As does his modeling background.
 

Overexposed.

Better.

JUST right.

Underexposed.

Better.

JUST right.

There are about 90 pictures I decided not to post of him.  But, man, they would've really illustrated my point. 

So - check it - a good model who doesn't complain, comes with me on fun trips and is the designated driver?  That's JUST right, brotha.

The Pack.

I've been talking quite a bit about love lately.

It seems like the time to do it.  What with Valentine's Day, the start of new year, etc. etc.  Love really comes in all forms.

And this weekend presents a whole new set of criteria for love-li-ness.

One of my girls, my pack - in fact, is getting married.  And we're toasting her engagement with a party - on my hometown side of the evergreen state.

This girl, this pack, are my family.  My loves.  My for-better-or-worse before that term meant a thing to me. 

I'm glad to get to celebrate love with her.  My Chrisselda.  And my three of the original six. 

It makes me as happy as I can remember being.  Seeing one of these ladies as happy as she's been. 

Much love is the bottom line here.  To her...and to these fools I've been blessed to call friends for the past 30 years (what up, 3rd grade!).

Sweet, sweet amor - how lucky are we?!

Rufus Wainright and The Texan.

Hands down, the best Valentine’s Day song of all time is Rufus Wainright’s “April Fools.”

And, hands down, the best line from, hands down, the best Valentine’s Day song of all time goes like this, “And you will believe in love…and all that it’s supposed to be. But just until the fish start to smell and you’re struck down by a hammer.”

Absolutely brilliant. I loved this song for a long time.

But, you know, the Texan came along. And, while we don’t always see eye-to-eye or even eye-to-shoulder, he’s learned-me a thing or two about believing (and living) in love. And the power of partnership. And family. And a good SciFi movie. And jalapenos.

Happy Valentine's Day, D.  I sure love you.

Thanks for changing my tune.

On the Occasion of an Ordinary Day.

We took a walk through the locks this week.

It's a place we frequent. 

What with the fish eggs to view.

Slightly irritated kids asking where the ice cream is.

And a steel octopus at the ready.

It makes for a lovely afternoon.

Regardless of the number of times we visit.

It's the kind of exceptional, ordinary sorta walk in the park a person wishes for every now and again.

One Afternoon

Sometimes a girl needs a minute.

To create.

Fantastical color scenarios.

You Gotta Play to Win

Every couple of months or so, Henry's school has a fundraising event.

First came the Harvest Party...with all things that typically accompany a Harvest-like festival.  Then came Bingo Night (which we kind of forgot about - so we have to just guess what bingo night was like).  And last Friday was the Sock Hop. 

It was as it sounds.

Elvis playing, girls in poodle skirts and our hero.  With a duck tail hair-do and a rolled-up white T.

It was a fun night. 

It was fun getting ready.  It was fun watching the kids dance (and by dance, I mean run around in circles on the gym floor).  It was fun watching Stella try (rather unsuccessfully) to pose like a 50's bad arse.

But what took the, well, cake was the cake walk.  There were about 200 people total, including parents - and a long line for the 20 or so spots on each of the cake walks.  Very silly story short - Henry won.  The first time he tried.  CRAZY.  His friend John-Joseph was crushed that he didn't win and kept trying. About an hour later, Henry wanted to try again.  You know, for fun.  And that fool won AGAIN.  He took that second cake (a Harry Potter themed ditty) and marched it right up to John-Joseph and gave it to him. 

Stop it, heart.  It hurts when you do that.

I sure love that little 50's fool. 

We all piled in the car (where I told Henry it was amazing that he won twice and where he said, "No, mom, it's actually not hard to win those things at all"), came home and ate bites of the first cake Henry won.

A wierd pyramid, castle looking thing. 

Why?  Why would he pick this cake?

Makes no difference I suppose.  It's really all about winning.

I mean, having a great time at the hop.