Da Goddess

I’m going to a going away party tonight. I’m not sure I can say who it’s for, but most of you who’ve been reading me for several years would recognize the name if I mentioned it and you’d all be, “whoa! No way!” and I’d be all, “I know!” And then we’d start reminiscing and stuff. But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m a little bit sad and yet, I’m really quite happy for my friend and the adventures said friend will be having in life.

Additionally, it looks like it’ll be a going away party for too. He leaves tomorrow for Lemoore. We haven’t had a chance to see each other since he got back from Iraq, but then again, he’s been busy and that’s okay. At least we’ll be able to catch up tonight.

And then there’s another part of the celebration: one of our friends, Gracie (occasional commenter here), just got married. As in last weekend. I finally get to meet her beloved. Can you believe that? She’s known him long enough to fall in love, get married, and I haven’t even met the guy.

So how can I possibly be sad when my friends are all starting exciting new lives? For two of them, yes, they’ll be venturing far afield and we’ll be lucky to catch up maybe once every year or two. But really, when I think about it, friendship isn’t about how often you see each other or how often you email, exchange phone calls, or send Christmas cards. Friendship goes well beyond that. It’s about shared experiences and the admiration you have for one another. As long as you have that, friendships never really die. They just are.

With that in mind, I have a million things to do before the party tonight. I desperately need to shower. I HAVE to get to the bank so my bill payments don’t bounce (thank you, Dad!), and I need to find a way to squeeze in a twenty minute power nap.

If given the okay, I will post photos from tonight.

From when LD was still little and I wasn’t nearly as camera shy.

Mad props to my friend for finding this shot on an old computer and sending it my way.

Yeah, I had short hair back then. It was so much easier to chase after kids without it falling into my face.

How could I not fall in love with a place with a name like that? It was another one of those very special places (and where I climbed up the hill as depicted in of the Desert). Sometimes we move the earth. Sometimes it moves us.

All these photos were taken in the same canyon. Each has its own beauty. There was even some silliness along the way. Harley just posted a photo of my rock balancing prowess.

I could get lost in this garden for hours.

I would love to see a maze of gladiolii (I think that’s what they are). I would happily walk the labyrinth for hours of quiet contemplation and gratitude for their magnificent beauty. Not unlike Monet’s parasol’d woman.

They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep… ~ Psalms, 107:23-30, KJV

Did you? Between last week’s Deadliest Catch episode ending and this episode, I’m deeply, deeply affected. The lives of these people, the sensitivity of the production crew, the dangers fishing vessels and their crews face are all very powerful storytelling. But it’s the reality of it that takes it to a whole different level. Serious stuff. Not a time for moment by moment commentary.

I will say no more. Except, God bless each and every soul who ventures out to sea.

God grant that I may live to fish until my dying day. And when it comes to my last cast, I then most humbly pray: When in the Lord’s great landing net, and peacefully asleep, that in His mercy I be judged “good enough to keep”.

From the wonderful ” Beautiful Revolution“:

sing me a lullaby
sing me the alphabet
sing me a story I
haven’t heard yet

And that, my friends, is what it’s all about.

First image NFS. Last image is my favorite, I think. Looks like legs to me.

I wish I could say we all took turns making such spectacular leaps, but sadly, not so much. However, the dynamic duo of Harley and Diane (two of our fellow photowalkers who joined us from Utah) more than made up for jumping shortages from Jan and I the second morning.

They are a lovely couple and made our journey even more fun. I couldn’t believe they made a special trip out from Utah to attend, but they did and I’m glad. You can see and Diane’s photography on Flickr. As well, you can peek in on Paul (he’s promised that Kristi will have an account soon), and while you’re there, check out Trevor’s photos. Jan’s images are displayed beautifully at her site.

While the desert was lovely and moving in so many ways, it was the people who made the trip worth taking. I’ll be including photos of some of them from time to time. I’m slowly working my way through the files. It kind of keeps me in the moment, you know?

Oh, and just so you don’t think I’m always hiding behind the camera, here’s a photo Jan took of me. (Actually, two photos…one so you get a little perspective of where I was.)

This week, my photos of the old caboose were to serve as inspiration for the PROMPT. Thank you, Deb, for finding the photos interesting and worthy enough to warrant such special treatment. You rock!

—-

“I miss lima beans,” he muttered. There was several months’ worth of growth on his face, which was looking rather gaunt. His hair was long and matted, and occasionally it would slide across his face, into his wildly darting eyes. “I MISS LIMA BEANS!” His guttural cry echoed through the deserted canyon, save for the birds that stirred after he shouted.

Smoke from his fire wafted into the weathered caboose, where he was protected from most of the elements. Wind, however, was another story. It seeped through the cracks of the dilapidated train car, kicked up the fine dust so prevalent in the canyon, it blew in the smoke from his fire, and it chilled him to the bone, even in the middle of the brutal desert summers. Being rail thin, he was always cold.

The charred bones of the chuckwalla crunched between his teeth. He’d been lucky last night, coming up on the unsuspecting lizard, which he roasted slowly over glowing coals. Now, as the early morning light filtered in, he drew his threadbare blanket around his shoulders while munching leftovers. He couldn’t help but think of how much better the meal would be with lima beans though.

His mind drifted back to another time, back when he was young and spry and definitely not living in the middle of nowhere in an abandoned caboose, sleeping on a rotting mattress he’d managed to drag out with the help of a long gone traveling companion. No, his memory allowed him to recall a time from his youth when Ma called him in for supper. A heaping plate of hot food was placed before him, including lima beans smothered with fresh-churned butter. Back then, he didn’t like the beans too much, but his mother could always talk him into eating them if she covered them with butter. As he got older, he continued to include them as part of his meals whenever he could, mostly to remember the woman who gave him life. After Ma died, he realized it wasn’t the butter he craved anymore, it was the beans. Now, without hope of seeing any in the near future, he found himself missing them more than ever. Ma didn’t register either. People had stopped mattering long ago.

A couple of faint plinks on the roof above him startled him out of his reverie. Then came the telltale hiss as a spring storm’s rain fell upon the fire. “So much for being warm,” he said to a little mouse in the corner. He blinked and the mouse was gone, if it was ever really there. He groaned a bit as he rose to his feet and pulled makeshift shutters on the few windows shut. The door at the rear of the car remained open a bit, in the hope that some creature seeking shelter from the storm would find its way inside, perhaps providing him another meal without any effort.

As he settled down in the corner on his mattress, he shivered and coughed. A prayer was said before he closed his eyes, not really caring whether or not he woke up again. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. If someone came by with some lima beans, he’d definitely want to wake up for those.

This ghostly rider cried out for more, more, more. Almost a rebel yell, if you will. (Don’t ask. It’s been a Billy Idol* sort of week, but it’s over now.)

* My theme song for the week was “World Comin’ Down”, which is my super extra favorite tune that gets thrown on the stereo and I sing loudly (and quite badly, I might add), and afterwards? I feel immensely better. I’m so serious about this, I’m including the tune for you here: ” Comin’ Down“.

For those who may have missed my comment in another post (wherein I grumbled and groused), I have been accepted into the Operation: Love Reunited program as a photographer.

I am proud and honored to be of help to our military families, to give them a boost at a time when they truly need and deserve some morale boosting.

I may need your help to stay on top of things at first, though, so be prepared for the occasional plea of “won’t you hit the tip jar so I can send the family album out?” I hope I only need to ask once or twice until I’m really booking more shoots and the orders for prints come in. Once that happens, I can fully fund these gifts myself. In the meantime, if I do need help…

See? It’s not all about me. Not all the time.

I am as proud to have been accepted into the program as I was the day I received my degree in nursing, as proud as each time I gave birth. This means the world to me. And it happened much sooner than I had thought it would! (Which is why I’m going to be pedaling like crazy to keep up and catch up! They said it could take much longer than it did.)

So, onward!

Taking a quick break from Death Valley photos, I have a stack of shots from Balboa Park yesterday and others from La Jolla last weekend when I went to play assistant to another photographer. I purposely went to Balboa Park early yesterday because I knew from the other day that the flowers were particularly spectacular right now. I’m so glad I did this. I found hundreds of little treasures reminding me of how glorious Spring is.

This is flower. I immediately thought of her when I saw this. There are a few other flowers I shot with specific people in mind and I will post those here and there.

I made a friend while playing in Mosaic Canyon. Everyone else had gone on ahead. I took my time, not believing I’d make it very far. It later became apparent I could, but by the time I’d figured that out, everyone was heading back toward me. Sigh. Thankfully, my friend kept me company for a while.

The bottom photo is for size comparison only. If you’ll note, the cap from a water bottle (1/2 liter) was set relatively close to the little bug. Kind of tells you how small he was. I found him while trying to figure out how I was going to get a particular slick portion of rock (it was marble-like). When I say slick, I mean slick. There was one section (next to where I found this bug) where people actually sat down for a bit of a slide. It was as if everyone had turned into children on a playground. Yes, I ended up doing the same myself after I got done playing about.

“All this time I’ve just wanted to be blonde, beautiful and 5 feet 2 inches tall.” ~ Bea Arthur

Oh, thank God she wasn’t!

Some people you believe will be around forever. They’re a part of your pop culture awareness from early on in your life and they’re just there…always.

That was Bea Arthur in many ways. Tough but tender, raspy and rascally, and really, how many other adjectives do I need to add? Caustic wit? Stern but sassy? She was all of that and more.

Even on an early family vacation up the coast of California, Bea Arthur, or rather Maude was with us. Upon finding a dead starfish on the beach, my mom intoned, “God finally got you, Walter.”

Maybe that’s one of the reasons I’ve always loved her…she reminded me of my mom in many ways or my mom reminded me of her. Either way, there was definitely that same sense of strength and humor in my mom that Bea Arthur always portrayed in her roles.

She hit the funny bone time after time. And she could be dramatic as well. But it was comedy where Arthur made her mark. do almost anything for a laugh (click the links, you won’t be sorry). It’d work, too.

Bea Arthur, born Bernice Frankel on May 13, 1922, died today after battling an unspecified form of cancer, only a couple weeks away from her 87th birthday (another brilliant Taurus). I would hope that each of us who have laughed because of her take a moment to thank God for bringing us such a gifted lady.