Van Morrison, I guess you just inspire that patriotic soapbox I've got stored away.

I just finished watching the old Bad News Bears with mom, Mindi, Garrett, Nick and Corey. (Nick is Corey's 15 year old brother.) We were practicing new America's past time of television as we learned from its original;

baseball.

A lot of Americans think this country has gone down the can. There are a lot of republicans rubbing their brows and tugging their hair, and their are a lot of democrats loosening their double windsors, pointing fingers at Mel Gibson and discussing Lindsey Lohan's mug shot. 

When Average Joe reads all of this in his paper, or online (seeing as our printed news is struggling to stay afloat in the black seas of the internet void) he throws it aside in dismay. What is going ON?? is all he can ask himself. Has this country completely run amok??! Poor Average J. He has forgotten everything; he has forgotten baseball. 

It's like this: You can distrust the satellites, fret for your phone conversations, Big Brother, Area 51, socialists, the whole lot. And lets face it, a lot of people do. The smallest embers of my temper really start to spark when I hear idiots; one Ipod earbud in the ear, hip cocked while they stare as they brush their thumb along the screen of their Ipod touch 4, " I don't know man, this whole country is so backwards."

And its true, they have forgotten baseball. 

Picture the game, ask yourself why we love it. Smell grass, hear the sunset. It was men, with tan leathery skin and leathery gloves. Sweat and spit, dirt stains on their pants and pressure. There is no hiding behind excuses, fake injuries, or your second place trophy when it is just you and your shaky bat hovering over home plate at the bottom of the ninth with two outs and an even game up on the score board. And when you swung at the ball and missed it clean, there was no mommy telling you that you were still her big champ. Ok so maybe she was, but dad sure as hell wasn't. There was this thing called shame, and humility. Like Tom Hanks told us, "There's no crying in baseball." And when you cracked the smack outta that ball and brought in a run, you felt your hard earned victory swell in your chest. 

So sure, our economy may be on the rocks, our president may as well be three sheets to the wind when he cuts hundreds of thousands of jobs, and we just don't make music like we used to.

But GUESS WHAT; you can still touch that green grass, and tear in the earth, and know that you are FREE. 

And you can always, always, start yourself a good ole game, of baseball.

I think that Katherine Heigl is my favorite.

I think that dusk in Baton Rouge is probably one of the most beautiful things in the entire world. 

Especially while driving.

Today was really nice.

As I was leaving Corey's house to head home, the sun hung just a few inches above the horizon. It was blazing, but a light film of clouds made it foggy enough to stare at. Nature's burning paper lantern. 

The clouds aren't half bad either:)

~like Hannah says, Baton Rouge has the best clouds in the world~

Half way through the drive it occurred to me to roll my windows down and turn my air off. My car flooded with colors, crickets, and sky. 

Whenever I'm doing the dishes, and an empty basin is suddenly filled with water, that water often skates up the sides of the basin in a big splash. I think that is what happened to the sky. And now the foam filled sea sky hangs above us, and the setting sun picks up the iridescent and soapy hues. I guess driving down Old Perkins and listening to "Your Eyes" can really get you going. 

Now I am watching 27 Dresses, being completely girly and completely empathizing with the poor main character as she watches her knight fall for a beautiful blonde with unnaturally white teeth. We poor women. 

-------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, I am staring down half of a sleeping pill perched on the couch next to me. It is my first sleeping pill, but my throat has become so coated with knives (or so it feels) that I haven't slept in like two days!!! 

Isn't she lovely.

New layout!!!
Even though bright pink is not exactly something I would have chosen for myself, I was drawn to it!

Probably because I have been wishing I knew how to paint with watercolor A LOT lately. So...

Give feedback!! Is it hard on the eyes, better or worse than the eyes, etc.
thanks!

Rolling.

I am semi stuck in that blog inertia. The kind where you want to blog, but every time you finally become inspired! there is no computer around, and there you hav it: your second or third week without blogging.

SO. Here's a quick update to get the ball rolling again.

• Friday:

-Woke up feeling awful; achey everything, soar throat, drip, chills, and all that good stuff. Went to work with Taylor for the day and knew for a fact that I was dying of TB or the plague or something like that. So Corey let me leave early. Hobbled to the car, crept into five o'clock traffic on I 12, and sat in a parking lot. I. REALLY. WAS. DYING. Lower back pain, upper EVERYTHING pain. Thus, you have a stagnant parking lot of death. For a good hour or so. Dropped Taylor off and hurried on, got into bed by six and slept till ten the next morning.

• Saturday:

-Still felt like doo doo but a little bit better. So me and mommy rented movies like Julie & Julia and the old Bad News Bears.

Thought: I cannot wait to be young and married and poor and happy :) Yes I know that money is the number one thing that stresses couples out. But I've heard stories from both my Grandparents, having nothing and making it work, being good to one another. It is a stage of life I look forward to very much :)

-Later that night, drug myself out of bed to go see Inception. Totally worth the discomfort. IT WAS AWESOME!!!!!! Go see it now!! Talk about full blow, edge of your seat, gripping entertainment.

C'est Bon.

Driving home today I couldn't help but feel comforted by the sound of the man's voice over the radio as he announced Baton Rouge's traffic situation. I switched lanes as I wanted to make a left up at the traffic light, and gingerly waved to the momentarily kind hearted driver behind me.

BOOM, thought flow.

That maybe life isn't a stone set path, but it is at least a gravel road. No one is (really) telling me where to go, but they are most definitely telling me how to get there. For instance; why is it that there is a certain way for the traffic man to talk? Like he's an "old soul" or something. He is calm, breaks up his speech, and has a deep sing song voice. If he announced traffic any other way, he would sound quite strange. There is even a set way to wave in traffic: not too overexcited, but not too ungrateful. Obviously, it's not like I'm playing Darwin or Einstein here, social norms have always been around; that's no discovery. It was just an interesting thought is all.

From the bathroom I could hear Grandad, "At the Space Museum, I can type the word Baton Rouge in one tenth of a second!" I stop to contemplate this. How fast could I type Baton Rouge? Two, maybe three seconds? Then it occurs to me; no one could time something that fast in the first place...how much thought to I put into things that are an exaggeration? I often mull over many situations in my head that someone has just told me, trying to unkink the kinks, and then I realize: Seline, they were only exaggeration. I wish I could get all that wasted thought back, it seems to happen a lot, and my brain can seem pretty tired some days.

I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have written an entire post about nothing. Oh well; I guess I've just been reading too much Catcher in the Rye.

Sitting around Gran's living room with Hannah and Sarah couldn't be more enjoyable. Gran and Grandad sit in the kitchen, and I can hear a faint and steady conversation between them, even after 50 years :)

We sit in a hazy warm light, engulfed in couch cushions and contentment. We discuss my kids at work (who the girls finally got to meet!) and try to coax Hannah into pronouncing her French book title for us. Sarah tries, and sounds more like a phlegmy Gollum.

Also, I REALLY want to learn to play the fiddle. Ah life.

c'est bon.