celebrating a treasure...

today she is five.

every day she brightens my life.

she greets each day with excitement and joy.

she refuses to eat a sandwich without dismantling

it first.

she skips rather than walks.

she always has pockets full of acorns and glass. 

she slept in a santa hat for an entire year.

she kicks my seat in the car relentlessly.

her face is the first thing i see each morning.

and i wouldn't change one. single. thing. 

about her.

happy birthday to our treasure.

Gladys Kravitz would be proud.

i've been so neglectful. not to all things.

but to the greater world of binary communication like 

blogging, yes.
instagram is my quick fix.

seeing images of other peoples' lives is a really

seductive thing for me. it's like pre-meditated voyeurism.  

sanctioned sneak-a-peaks. romanced reality.

here's mine.

http:instagram.com/penelopelea  

most humble student...

"If you don't push yourself to failure,

you don't know how far you can go." dean karnazes

watching these two and thinking that if i 

could just try for a few moments each day to 

live without fear of failure; my life would be a 

whole lot closer to the way i imagine it could be.

nearly everything i would like to change is only 

held back by me.  fear, worry, self-consciousness,

ego, judgement.  

i was just thinking 'tomorrow is another day',

but that's not the best way at all.

that's how i shoot myself in the foot.

i need a rubber band on my wrist to pop myself 

every time i think about starting fresh tomorrow and

 remember to relish this moment, it's my life.

it's trigger's stick.

marvin's nap.

my guru's:

(now, if i can just quit being a putz and practice what they preach) 

camper envy...

take a look at this camper.  it's a 1953

royal spartanette. the kitchen, the green

booth, the stove, the nightstands in the bedroom,

all of the WOOD! all yours for just under $20,000.

i'm pretty sure my silly cars couldn't get 

two blocks with this attached. i would

find a nice spot by a river and stay a while.

flag pole repair...

see the small ball at the top of the pole?

it's a toilet float.  and it's spray-painted gold.

and it's crooked. 

be the heat....

we've finally reached the part of texas' summer

where outdoor productivity is cautiously arranged

around the earth's spin and the sun's grin.

a predilection for daybreak and dusk 

shows a sound mind. 

when the sun's at her zenith, i usually try to 

find 'really important' things to get done indoors...

my dad picked wild mustang grapes out by the brazos river and my 

mom and i spent much of the heat of the day making

into some of the best jelly ever. mustang grape

jelly is my favorite and does a bang-up job 

of staining anything and everything. 

near dusk we walked the lake. suddenly, my mom started

yelling, 'hurry!  run!  come here!' and was 

gesturing to a clump of trees and scrub brush.

she was in full scout stance....ready to flee

or nab whatever she was yelling about.

we all high-tailed it over rocks and cactus to 

where she was.  she was yelling, 'there's something,

something in here!'  then we heard this sound that

i couldn't place and my dad came lurking out from the 

bushes with a coyote call.

she called him an asshole and walked off while

he grinned. they're the best.

smelly, dirty buddies.

hunter/gatherer bouquet...

roof life...

and later we....

pickin' peas...

i realize i've harped on the blazing hell

of a summer we had last year plenty. 

no amount of moaning and lamentation could 

paint a picture of the brown and scorched sadness

of it.  therefore, i will focus on the beauty of the

summer we've been nuzzling necks

with this year.

if, in my next life, i'm a black eyed pea sprout,

i want a summer just like this one.  

i choose soil just as perfectly sandy

as this spot here. 

kindly mr. vegetable farmer down the highway

plants peas every spring to turn under come fall

to liven up his soil.

he always lets us come pick pick pick.  

then we shuck shuck shuck.

this trip, a bushel and a half. 

i'll blanch them, freeze them, and cook them 

just the way we like them. with cornbread. 

all winter long.

abiquiu...

pitter pat.  my heart.  abiquiu.