~Living a life of sophisticated domestication deep in the heart of Texas~

Sunday, June 29, 2008

A blessed morrow...It's our WYMMD....

We've chosen the Claddagh symbol to top our wedding cake. It's very dear to us.

"....the Irish marriage symbol with the heart symbolizing love, life's purest impulse, the hands of friendship clasped around the heart, coming together to nurture and protect. The crown is symbolic of loyalty, representing love's endurance throughout life."

Sir, I want to thank you for not only believing it, but living it~~ day after day, night after night...



photo courtesy of historicimpressions.com

Friday, June 20, 2008

Summer Solstice...of Love....

I swear, I've been waiting for a lifetime for this summer to get here!!!

photo: Summer of love, allbrightmoments.com

Sunday, June 8, 2008

"Keep...old shoes..."

In the process of packing up my life in Washington and moving to Texas I've had the occasion to mark some pretty strange notations on the outside of boxes. Looking back on it all, it would have been smarter to be more specific, or to have kept better track of what's in what box and how important the stuff really is, but alas, I didn't do that. At least not to the extent that I could locate anything very quickly.

On one box I've marked two stars (meaning the contents are twice as important to me than the box marked with only one star), and then I scribbled across the side of the box "S-KEEP-OLD SHOES."

Actually, if I were to open it now, I might find something really, really important inside, a carefully packed treasure. If I remember correctly, my thought at the time was that if this box was marked "old shoes" it would discourage anybody from getting inside and absconding with the objects I'd so carefully packed away.

But really, who, in their right mind, would pack up "old shoes" to move to Texas?? Seriously, any shoes that were destined to travel all the way from there to here were lucky to make the trip in a grocery sack tucked away in the trunk of the car.

If I remember right, these particular old shoes are special, to me, anyway. Black patent leather tap shoes with old grosgrain ribbon, worn when I was five years old. My friend Lori and I took dancing lessons (tap, ballet and acrobatics) from Mrs. Keller, a rather scary, middle-aged lady in black with a streak of hair she'd dye to match her scarves, a cross between punk and goth. She'd pretend to be cranky when she'd find us in our black tights and pink legs, giggling little girls all in a row hanging bat-like, upside down from the bar, making faces at ourselves in the wall of mirror across the room.

Good times. You know, I'm glad I still have my old shoes. I wonder if Lori kept hers...In some ways, I guess I grew up. In other ways, it's come to my attention that I didn't.

Better get those unpacked so one of these days I can set them out on a shelf in a china cupboard.