MY FAVORITE THINGS

Randomly and without categorization:

1.   British actor Bill Nighy

2.  Trader Joe’s Belgian Chocolate pudding

3.  Koh-I-Noor Chromatic Coloring Pencils

4.  Reading The Sun magazine on a Saturday afternoon

5.  Taking mental health days off from my job in mental health

6.  Writer Thomas Moore (the contemporary one)

7.  The dual whir of ceiling fans in the living room and dining room

8.  August days that do not require air conditioning in the semi-desert where I live

9.  Pruning the lantana

10. Solo living room dancing to Dire Strait’s “The Bug”

11. Dire Straits albums, especially Dire Straits, Love Over Gold, and Brothers in Arms

12. Mark Knopfler

13. Mark Knopfler solo albums, particularly Sailing to Philadelphia, Ragpicker’s Dream, Shangri-La, Kill to Get Crimson, and Get Lucky

14.  Connecting with other MK enthusiasts

15.  The movie Stranger Than Fiction

16.  Cate Blanchett in just about any movie she’s made

17.  Joseph Campbell, scholar of mythology and religion extraordinare, radiant being, and lover of life, the universe and everything (may his spirit continue to inhabit, inform, and inspire)

18.  The poetry of Dorianne Laux, Connie Hales, C.G. Hanzlicek, Wendell Berry, William Stafford, Denise Duhamel, Teddy Roethke, Rita Dove, and on and on and on

19.  Dark chocolate-covered raisins (“craisins” in our house)

20.  Old friends

21.  New friends

22.  New-old friends

23.  Mandalas

24.  Freesia that comes straight from our front yard

25.  Yanking out yard-length weeds from the flowerbeds

26.  Hurling snails into the street

27.  Walking to our local neighborhood coffeehouse/cafe on a Sunday morning

28.  All of my friends, even those with whom I can no longer (for whatever reason) communicate

29.  The intangible gifts my parents gave me

30.  Haagen-Dazs strawberry ice cream

31.  Practicing yoga

32.  Art retreats

33.  Intuitive painting

34.  A really excellent filet mignon once a year

35.  Getting packages in the mail (especially unexpected ones)

36.  Reading through my teenage journals

37.  Heath Ledger, RIP

38.  Prismacolor artist pencils

39.  Metallic tempera paint

40.  My increasingly silvery hair

41.  Fresh-off-the-tree peaches

42.  Making giant fruit salads

43.  Sitting on a beach-log, listening to the ocean

44.  “Dictation” poems that seem to come from something/somewhere outside my self

45.  Tree-shaded streets in old neighborhoods

46.  Living in a house that’s almost a century old

47.  My husband, in all of his vicissitudes, moods, creative states, semi-military moments, utter silliness, complete honesty, after-midnight runs on online guitar forums, total integrity, and absolute intolerance of bullshit

48.  She is my cat and I am her human

49.  My annual effort to master (against all odds) a layer cake for my husband’s birthday

50.  My great mentor, teacher, and friend, Ron K. (may his spirit/soul meet up with Joseph Campbell’s if it hasn’t already)

51.  Actually getting enough sleep once or twice a week

52.  Inheriting (and/or learning) my mother’s tolerance of and compassion for humankind (okay, ALMOST all of it–leaving out the Idi Amins, Sadam Husseins, et al)

53.  Getting to start over and try to do things right every day I wake up

54.  Oddly, blogging

55.  Seeing women grow old with acceptance and grace (a real kind of beauty)

56.  Giving myself a weekend off from “having to do” anything

57.  Cobalt blue

58.  The brilliant pinpoint map of stars in mountain-night skies

59.  The first teacher who gave me a blank composition book

60.  Neil Young, in all ways, ALWAYS

61.  Coloring books

62.  Warm brownies with melty vanilla ice cream

63.  Mountain meadows

64.  My 52 and 3/4-yr-old heart that still seems to work (most of the time)

65.  Daylight, as George Harrison said, that’s “good at arriving at the right time”

66.  There’s a little bit of magic in everything, and some loss to even things out (thank you Lou Reed)

67.  Surviving cancer

68.  And living to tell

(more later . . . )

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About creat1ve11

psychotherapist by trade, writer and artist by temperament, over 50 and not fighting it, love the idea of snorting milk through my nose, but have never actually done it
This entry was posted in aging, and everything, beauty, creativity, death, existential angst, life, mortality, poetry, Reflecting, the universe, transitions, Uncategorized, women and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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