And Then That Happened…

 

 

What a weekend! Mister’s mama and daddy came into town to watch the Super Bowl, to celebrate Mister’s mama’s birthday and to hang out in the beautiful SoCal weather.

 

After arriving Friday afternoon, we all had a stay-at-home dinner on Friday night. It was relaxing and it was comfortable and sometimes you just need to sit around in your jammies and catch up. I’d have to say that was accomplished.

 

On Saturday, Mister had planned a surprise activity for his folks: making Polish sausage. Mister and I had done this a few years back and the experiment had been a lovely success. As the recipe comes from Mister’s daddy’s mama, it was only fitting to include him (and Mister’s mama) in the scene and as they had never made sausage from scratch, I think it was a unique experience for them. And when we were all finished, there was the bonus of having that sausage. To eat. Which we did.

 

 

On Saturday night, the 4 of us went to Holly-weird for a 2+ pound butt steak. (It was actually a ribeye, but butt steak is more fun to say.) I’m not kidding. We shared a 36-ounce steak! And it was beautiful. Thankfully it was also delicious. And as the restaurant had only one of those big boys in the house, it was a treat to have nabbed it. Ordinarily, we wouldn’t even consider such a dish. But it was Mister’s mama’s birthday (on Sunday), so it seemed appropriate to go all out and live a little. I mean a lot. Personally, I was glad to have worn stretchy pants.

 

 

And then there was Sunday. The big dance. The Super Bowl. Let me start by saying what a treat it was for Mister and for his daddy to be able to watch the game together. They regularly call each other during and after Broncos games and they keep up with the team. But they don’t get to watch together, so this really was a special treat.

 

Let me also say that Mister’s mama’s actual birthday was Sunday, but she knew where the focus would lie and so graciously agreed to celebrate the night before. It was a classy move and it was sweet.

 

Now. Not only did the Broncos win (woo-hoo!), we also ate an assortment of good food throughout the day, so that by the time Sunday evening arrived, we were all too pooped to pop. Well, that and we had been expending ridiculous amounts of psychic energy, trying to do our parts for the team. That’s how fans do, after all.

 

It was only a weekend, but it was one of those weekends that will stand out as having been special. One you know you won’t get again. Those are rare and they’re a gift. I’m glad I got to be a part of it. And that I have the memories.

 

Sometimes life is right on.

Lights

 

 

One of my favoritest things during the holiday season is the lights. And while I’ll take the clear bulbs that are oh-so-popular, the colored bulbs are what stir my soul.

 

I’ve never lived in a house adorned with holiday lights. Didn’t happen when I was a child and Mister and I don’t string lights outside now. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love seeing them around the neighborhood. There’s just something about the glow that makes me smile. I’m not a religious gal, but I do love those lights. And the way they stir my soul.

 

About an eon ago, when Mister and I had only been married a few years, we spent Christmas with his family in Colorado. After seeing a new holiday movie (“National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation”), the whole fam damily climbed into Mister’s daddy’s old Chevy Blazer and we set off into the cold Colorado night in search of “10,000 imported Italian twinkle lights.” As we climbed hills and descended into valleys, we listened to UB40′s version of “Red, Red Wine” on repeat. Rolling down the road, that Blazer was rocking! We all mis-sang the lyrics, again and again. Mister’s daddy, not knowing the line “whole heap of zing”, sang “Willy Pasini” and he sang it with gusto. That particular fun will never be duplicated, but that’s okay. It lives in my memory and I’ll never forget it. Especially since it comes to mind each year, as I drive around looking for lights. I can hardly wait for this year’s quest…

Chain Bridge at Night

 

 

I’ve not been to Budapest. I’ve not been to a lot of places, but that’s neither here nor there. Actually, I suppose those places are the very definition of “there,” but that’s not my point.

 

This painting is of the Chain Bridge at night. The Chain Bridge straddles the Danube, connecting Buda and Pest in Hungary. I’m sure it’s quite stunning, as photos are just lovely. And it was a photo of this bridge – a photo taken by Mister’s Daddy – that inspired the above painting. I fell in love with the pic as soon as I saw it and knew I wanted to paint it. As always, I took some poetic license in its portrayal.

 

You’d think these simple paintings would be the easiest. Well they’re not. I struggled with this one, and I learned a lot in the process. All in all, I’m quite happy with the results. The painting makes me want to travel. It makes me want to take more photographs. And it makes me want goulash. Go figure.