Bush-U2 Mash-up
A Sunday Bloody Sunday cover, sorta.
Don't get any ideas.
Another reason to love Flickr: I was scrolling through eyeLook's photo stream last night. She's a friend of my aunt's and we became mutual Flickr contacts after my aunt mentioned my blog to her. We exchange the occasional comment, and I've enjoyed getting to know someone pretty much via visuals only. As I was viewing her pictures of a recent party she attended, I had the pleasant realization that I recognized two of people in the photos--my aunt* and uncle, who were in attendance. How fun is that?! These web acquaintances really come in handy.
So today makes one year of married bliss for M and me. At least, I hope he feels it's been as happy as I think it's been. I'm pretty certain he does. It's Sunday, so it actually feels more like the day after the wedding. I left M snoring in the motel suite and took Rex for a walk around downtown Chico that morning. It was cool, deserted--except for M's brother who drove by in his enormous red pick-up heckling me good-naturedly, parking a ways down the street and stumbling out of his truck wearing the same clothes he'd been in the night before. A very Chico kind of moment, enhanced by the realization that he was legally now my brother-in-law. I felt different that day, though I can't really express how. Nothing really changed but for my ability to add M to my health insurance and the odd tiff we had about his mom addressing the next few letters to us as Mr. and Mrs. Murray Cockerill. I know other people are fine with that, but I never have been. But I love referring to him at "my husband." We don't have any formal anniversary celebration plans for today, but I'm just so glad we'll spend the day together.
I'm mad about something. May I vent? M and I were stepping out to the farmers market this morning only to discover that someone had neatly cut one of my rose canes. Yes it was long and leggy and thorny and had a penchant for reclining on the sidewalk, and yes I was in fact thinking I really should tie it up so it would grow properly and not be a nuisance, but I just hadn't gotten to that part yet. Was that any reason to nip it in the bud, literally, neatly, at the 45 degree angle recommended by expert rose growers? I was very angry when I came across the vandalism this morning. And I felt powerless. Our sidewalk isn't really very trafficked, so I have a prime suspect, a certain gentleman two doors down who walks obsessively but who is also in fine fettle and perfectly capable of stepping over or going around. But I can't be sure it was he that did the deed. So I left a note, taped to the sidewalk with the cane underneath, affixed with bright red cloth tape asking why said vandal (well, I wrote "you" not vandal) didn't simply say something either via note or knock. Not sure if I'll get a response, but I hope at least to provoke thought.
So my nephew made it through grammar school and is on to high school. He wasn't on his tiptoes in the photo--he really is as tall as me now. Sigh. More photos here.
My mom brought back beaucoup booty from her recent trip to China with my stepdad. He thought I would particularly like this gift, and he was right. Mao's hand waves back and forth constantly, and I don't know if you can see it, but the second sweep hand is tipped with a red star. Another bonus? I never have to worry about the battery crapping out, because this is a winder!