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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.


Two Short Stories that May or May Not have Anything to do with Each Other


(also, I sometimes sporadically and spontaneously capitalize words)
Today I suckered BC into grocery shopping.  After a decade of marriage, we have fallen into certain household roles and the general category of "food" has my name written all over it.  I do not mind this a bit, but about once a quarter, I coax him into the car, carrying my canvas bags and back up water bottle with a promise of a meal out.
Today it was sushi, and plenty of it.  I must have spicy tuna with too much ginger and he must have hamachi nigiri with lots of wasabi and if a tempura yam roll shows, well so be it!
I think the bargain is a good one.
One of the great loves BC and I share is dinning out.  Some might even call us "whores for eating out" and I would not be able to correct them.  When we first moved out of Seattle and back down to California, to this sparsly populated county on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, with the "biggest city" weighing in at under 30,000 people, we thought our days of eating out would be numbered.
I can now tell you this is not the case.
The last time we went out to breakfast our server, Lilly, finished my order for me (fruit instead of hashbrowns, right?).  Last month, at Pak India, the adorable man who does everything asked if we were models because we were so tall.  He told us he had been wanting to ask for months.  At Big Blue, they ask after Sancho and show us new tattoos.
And I must confess: we love it.
* * *
These tights?  Or, as you may have been thinking, these "incredible, awesome tights?"  They finally showed up and I'm pretty certain I'll be wearing them non-stop this winter.  I ordered them months ago, way back, I do believe, before we moved and before I had adjusted the shipping address on my paypal.  At the time I was not worried, as we had our paperwork in for the postal forward but then some strange glitch in the system took over, and we've been trying to track our mail down for no less than three month.  We heard stories of our mail being held in a mysterious box that made its way through the various post offices in the county, somehow always eluding us.  I could have cared less about our water bill, but these tights!  My hope was starting to wane.  But then, like a blessing when you need it most, a flurry of mail and one rumpled package finally arrived and now my legs are complete.
Thank God.
Life is good, no?