I lived in northern California for a year without experiencing any earthquake activity. I’m kind of glad for that since they can be pretty scary on the West Coast, but was a little disappointed I had “missed my chance.” I was unaware of fault lines in the Missouri vicinity until early this morning, when our whole house started shaking. We could hear it rattling, and our bed - with us in it - felt like the “magic” beds you might feed a few quarters in a cheap hotel room. We ran downstairs to look for any clues out the front door, thinking in our half-awake state perhaps a big truck had rumbled by or a plane was flying very low overhead, but found nothing. We headed back to bed once the shaking subsided, our hearts and minds racing. Christian told me about the New Madrid fault very familiar to St. Louisans, and we decided it must have been an earthquake or possibly a big explosion somewhere that caused a shock wave. The lack of emergency sirens had us pretty convinced it was the former. After a couple more hours’ sleep, I had to get up for work, and Christian checked the news to confirm our suspicion: Earthquake measuring 5.2 rattles St. Louis region. Is it wrong to be a little exhilarated this morning?

I’ve hunkered down for a category 5 hurricane (Andrew) in Florida, seen and breathed the effects of wildfire (Hayman) and dug out after blizzards in Colorado, and now I’ve felt an earthquake in Missouri. While I’ve seen the sky turn green (also in CO), I’ve never actually seen a tornado, and I’ve never been anywhere near a tsunami. I’m happy to live the rest of my life without adding the last two to my list, but I still think it’s pretty cool I’ve experienced such a wide variety of natural phenomena without personally experiencing any significant damage. I have seen what they can do, however: I participated in clean-up teams in the areas hardest hit by Andrew, and cared for evacuated horses during the Hayman fire. Sometimes it’s good to remind ourselves that we are not masters of this earth, but stewards.

I finally did it! Well, mostly. I’ve never been a coffee drinker. I’ll sip brewed tea on occasion. But my focus here is the soda addiction that has haunted me for longer than I can remember. It’s easy to see where it came from: my parents always had a few sodas in the morning to help them wake up, and they’d drink it fairly continuously throughout the day, as well. I remember when doctors told both of them to lay off because their blood pressure was way too high. They’d slow down for a while, complaining the whole time, but eventually go right back to consuming roughly 4-6 liters per day. Each. It was amusing that Dad would only drink Diet Coke and Mom only Diet Pepsi, so there was always a ton of both in the house. I switched back and forth between them for years, but evenutally decided I like the taste of Diet Coke best. It has been both a comfort and the bane of my existence for years.

The blog has been sitting fairly silent, I know, and I’ve been late on the last few colorblog entries. Just wanted to let everyone know I’m still here and I still want to blog, I just haven’t been able to find time for much. I started a new diet/exercise program a few weeks ago to help me make a lifestyle change, and I really feel good about it. But it’s taking up more of my “at home” time in the initial stages; hopefully it will even out once it’s become fairly routine. And my job is changing, which means I’m training again. But I’m still finishing up a couple projects for the job I’ve been doing the last 2 1/2 years, so work is exceptionally busy for me right now. And as if I didn’t have enough going on, I’ve been invited to audition for DuBourg’s summer alumni musical. It’s been years since I’ve worked with a stage production, so I’m looking forward to it, though I know it will mean a lot of work and more nights away from home. But there’s a certain thrill from being on a stage—even just as a face in the chorus/crowd—that will keep me glowing for quite some time. So I’m not disappearing, just trying to keep up with everything. Bear with me, dear friends.

This is more than a week late, I know, for various reasons. And it may seem, given the circumstances, that this is a hastily thrown-together entry just to get something posted. But in truth, I was planning to write on this subject early last week; I just never got around to it.

Blue, in many shades, is quite possibly my favorite color. There are certainly many blue things I could have written about for this entry: articles of clothing (blue is rather flattering on me), the blue topaz in my mother’s birthstone jewelry I inherited, the post-it notes and flags on my desk, or even the cobalt blue Fiestaware dishes and serving pieces we got from our wedding registry. Instead of any of those, though, I choose to write about pens. That’s right, I said pens.

If given a choice, I typically to choose to write in blue. I don’t think it’s just my affinity for the color, though. Blue ink makes it easier for me to locate and read what I’ve written, especially if I’m making notes on something printed in black-and-white, like all the reports I read for work. But it’s also more readable than other colors like red or green, which make my eyes hurt in large quantities. Currently, my favorite is the Pilot Easy Touch retractable pen, medium point. I tend to lose pen caps, and I also feel like they get in the way. The medium point width is just right, and this particular ink offers lovely, smooth writing. It also has a comfort grip so I can keep ahold of it, and my bony fingers don’t get sore.

I won’t go to quite the length of some others in praise of their favorite writing instrument, so there you have it. And I just figured out what to write about for my purple entry, so that one should be coming along soon, but may not be until early next week. Another busy weekend approaches!

Got this in a recent email from a friend I grew up with. My comments are in italics.

You know you’re a Floridian if…

I’ve been trying to verbalize my response to Charlie Wilson’s War for almost two weeks now, and I’m still not sure I can adequately express it. But I’ll at least make an attempt.

Warning/Disclaimer: Spoiler alert! Don’t click below if you don’t wanna know. In addition, I don’t often get political onblog because I don’t have time to keep up with the debates that typically ensue. In this case, it’s unavoidable if I want to share my thoughts on the movie at all. Please feel free to discuss amongst yourselves, even if I don’t join in. Y’all have managed to play nice in the past; let’s keep that record going, please.

I have a new favorite. Orchard Harvest Salad from St. Louis Bread Co./Panera: romaine lettuce and field greens, pears, dried cherries, gorgonzola cheese, and pecans with cherry balsamic dressing. You know you want one.

Also, I forgot to mention yesterday: Linda and Jenni have also jumped on the colorblogging bandwagon. They have a couple backlog posts up - go check ‘em out!

I love plant life for both visual and consumable aesthetics. Leafy green vegetables, especially the cruciferous kind (like broccoli), are exceptionally full of vitamins and minerals. I love a good salad, and I’ve been enjoying baby spinach on the sandwiches I take to work for lunch on a regular basis. And who doesn’t appreciate a verdant field of grass undulating in a calm breeze, a peaceful forest of leafy trees, or a bed (or vase) of aromatic flowers? (Or if you’re allergic to any of the above, how about inspirational pictures of them?)

Last year, I had a calendar in my cube showcasing the Irish countryside, full of idyllic photographs of rolling green hills, quaint buildings, and quiet riverbanks. Even in the midst of dreary winter and impersonal fluorescent lighting, I could almost hear the wind whisper and the fairies’ windchimes tinkle. I could feel the sun on my face and the warmth in my heart.

Green is the color of life; it raises spirits and offers sustenance. But it’s not easy to maintain. Plant life requires consistent sunshine and water, in addition to good soil full of nutrients. Without just the right environment, the plant will sadly wither and die. Which brings me to a completely different, though related, green topic ... 

I have never had the slightest idea what kind of flower this is. It was just pretty, and we were happily basking in the warmth of that spring day. A small group of photography class students was roaming the high school grounds. Our teacher often gave an assignment and sent us seeking during class. Later, we’d develop our film and make prints in the darkroom at one end of the classroom. There were no digital cameras back then; I wielded my father’s heavy Nikon with several dials running the circumference of the detachable lenses. They had a tendency to slip at the slightest touch, so getting them perfectly aligned was no easy task.

I had started learning basic photography in 4-H years earlier, and took this class because it promised an easy “A.” It didn’t disappoint, but I was surprised by just how much I enjoyed it. I learned a lot, too. This particular shot won awards in various contests. It’s always held a special place in my heart, but it’s also a sad reminder: I’ve forgotten almost everything I ever learned about photography. And nowadays, especially with digital film, I’m more apt to carelessly snap away. I’ve grown impatient, it seems - a common theme in our high-tech world.

My dad (the dinosaur) finally bought a digital camera; it would have been more expensive to repair the Nikon, which was older than I am. The end of an era, perhaps.

We have a couple extra tickets to see Charlie Wilson’s War this Saturday morning at Wehrenberg - Des Peres. We’ll be at the theater at 9:30; private screening starts at 10 a.m. Please contact us (comment, email, or phone) if you’re interested - we’d hate to see them go to waste!

The wonderful thing about Tiggers
Is Tiggers are wonderful things
Their tops are made out of rubber
Their bottoms are made out of springs
They’re bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy
Fun, fun, fun, fun, FUN!
But the most wonderful thing about Tiggers
Is I’m the only one

That silly song gets stuck in my head quite often. And for no apparent reason. For a long time, my favorite Pooh character was Eeyore. He was so sweet and sad, you just had to want to hug and cuddle all his cares away. I even had a stuffed Eeyore for a while, though I lost track of it years ago.

My family went to Disney World the summer after I graduated from high school. While waiting to enter the park the first day, we all realized we’d want hats to give us some protection from the fierce sun. I had trouble finding something that would fit my small head, and eventually settled on a blue baseball cap with Tigger on the front. “I guess this will do.” Little did I know it would become my favorite summer accessory even this many years later. It fits my head perfectly, with a hole at the back for a ponytail. And Tigger grew on me to the point that he is now my favorite character, too. He’s always happy and bouncy. Joyful, the way I want to be. (But maybe slightly less bouncy.) Some years ago I was given a Tigger sweatshirt as a Christmas present. Though I rarely wear it out of the house, it has a nice little way of bringing a smile to my face when I want to get comfy. Tybalt apparently likes Tigger, too. He insisted on being in the picture, and after several tries, I finally gave in. Thank goodness for digital cameras!

By the way, have you noticed Tigger is orange? (Yes, I know, I’m late again.) Here’s another orange for you: wildfire. As in, Colorblogging is spreading like wildfire! In addition to the originators (Tracie, Steph, Kristi, Kristen), Stacey and Allison have decided to jump in, too. And Jaime is adding her own creative twist by Colorblogging about her recent trip to Haiti. Check them out!

Check out Maharishi University of Management. You can major in Sustainable Living and minor in World Peace, all while maintaining a 100% organic vegetarian diet and practicing the only scientifically verified Transcendental Meditation® technique. The original Brook Farm failed when the community building burned down. I’m sure MUM has taken adequate precautions against allowing their green buildings to become red and orange, or even black…

I feel a bit like a party crasher. But after reading the list of colors Kristi posted, especially color #1, I felt inspired.

My mother’s favorite color was red, perhaps epitomized by the bright red Revlon lipstick she favored, replaced only by bright pink from time to time. I never liked either on her very fair complexion, which I inherited. She never wore foundation or any other make-up to even things out, just that “bit of bright” on her lips, and she never felt fully dressed without it. Perhaps this memory struck me because I so often complained about having to wait in the car at our destination while she applied and blotted. She was always proud of the shape of her mouth - a “perfect kiss” on the tissue; maybe that’s why she liked highlighting it in such a way.

The first car I actually owned was red because it was originally supposed to be hers. My parents went shopping for a new car for my mom, with the intention of giving me the car she had been driving as a college graduation present. She saw this little cutie and that was IT. But once it was sitting in our driveway (and I had already fallen in love with it, too), I pointed out it wasn’t much of a family car - itty bitty and almost no back seat. I eventually convinced her I should take the little red sports car, and she kept driving the beige station wagon. Score!

I sent her a dozen red roses for her 60th birthday. We had a great conversation that weekend. It was a good note to end on.

For more color blogging, visit Kristen, Kristi, Stephanie and Tracie. I hope they’ll keep in mind that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. 

I’m a fairly light sleeper. Ergo, I’m pretty much awake as soon as the alarm goes off, though I may lay in bed a little longer to “gather my energy.” The Hubby, God bless him, is a rather heavy sleeper, and easily falls back into slumber when disturbed. Some days, I have to drag him from bed practically kicking and screaming. He cherishes his “15 more minutes” almost like a security blanket.

This morning, when his alarm went off for what felt like the 5th time, still a good half hour before I had to be up, I snapped out the title of this entry. Of course I apologized for my tone later, and he also pointed out he’d only hit snooze twice. Ah, the joys of marriage.

Quick poll: Are you a “springer” or snoozer?

I just read Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Philosophy of Composition,” in which he describes his process in developing his most famous poem, “The Raven.” I have a B.A. in English - how is it I never before encountered this essay?!? As someone who has always struggled with creative writing, I found the premise intriguing and the development both informative and entertaining - a literal glimpse into the mind of a genius. Poe isn’t entirely honest, choosing to omit other literary influences in favor of an impression of self-inspiration. And one certainly couldn’t create a masterpiece merely by following his “mathematical” problem-solving. But that’s part of why it amuses me so much - I can just picture an austere Edgar Allen Poe, strutting and flapping like his infamous Raven, staring down desperate students as he instructs them in the simplicity of composition.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.