News Trend Burung Hantu|Actual

In the Malay language, the word "owl" is spoken asburung hantu.

Directly translated, the words mean, "ghost bird."

In this dimly-lit, late-afternoon photo of the secret building,

my owl's favorite tree is the one on the left.

I saw my owl again.

On our usual walk today, Ranger and I headed across the foot bridge toward the secret building where we saw him the first time, at pretty much the same hour of twilight..

We rounded the back corner of the building, and I strained my eyes in the falling light to see if I could make him out on the lawn where we found him on Friday.

Nope. No owl in sight.

Sigh. I've been hoping all week to encounter him again but you know what they say about lightning striking twice in the same place.

It rarely happens.

So I let Ranger continue to lead me around the curve of the lane, trying to be not disappointed.

Just to be sure, though, my eyes scanned the tree - actually three narrow trees, planted side by side by side against the back of the building - where the owl had alighted on our first meeting.

And there he was.

A pale shadow in the deepening darkness.

Just a few meters off the ground.

Utterly and perfectly motionless.

I gasped inwardly and stared.

While I could not make out his face - and he certainly gave me no hints - I am pretty sure that owl stared at me as I slowly and carefully tiptoed past his perch, my oblivious red dog trailing happily behind me.

When we cleared what I perceived to be his air space, I turned back to take another long look at my owl. Honestly, I was hoping against hope that he would fly again, moving swiftly and silently into the nearby woods.

But he didn't. He just sat stone till, enjoying, I presume, the emerging darkness that brings him fully to life.

And I couldn't help but think, as the Malay do, that my white owl looked just like a pale phantom in the night sky..

Burung hantu. Ghost bird.

The very idea sent delicious shivers down my spine.

And I hope very much that I will see my owl again soon.

* * * * *

For more stories about my owl, read these:

Vast and Beautiful Mysteries Of Life

The Third Time

This Powerful Gift

News Trend Simple Life|Actual

Lean,

Simple.

Pure.

This minimalist, mostly abstract work is everything that Impressionism - natural and fresh and filled with dappled light - is not.

Yet both styles of art sing to me.

And in both, I see the world.

Because both are bursting with life.

Watching people.

People watching people.

Watching cowboy Elvis.

Irregular orange rectangles

Stacked blue squares.

 I am seriously thinking about climbing them.

 Yellow fades to purple

Glass fractures light.

 Golden squares on squares.

 Geometry unleashed.

I never tire of contemplating this simple life.

News Trend My Day Among The Slabs|Actual

Hello, gorgeous slabs of stone. I am here to kiss you.

If you watch HGTV as obsessively as I do, chances are good that we share the bucket list item of one day shopping at a granite slab warehouse.

We took more photos than the paparazzi outside Bieber's room in Bora Bora. No regrets.

Come on. How could anyone watch Christina run her hands over one piece of magnificent stone after the next, unfailingly choosing the one with sparkles, without madly desiring to do the exact same thing?

I mean, I could do without Tarek standing around whining about the cost, because he knows full well that his wife always - and I mean always - nails the kitchen design, which then drives their flip's selling price into the stratosphere, week after week after week. Christina will get her sparkles in the end.

It's all a part of their process, am I right?

Going in, I thought I'd given my heart to this one, a quartz product called Statuario.

But in real life, the veining looked a bit more engineered than natural, and I fell firmly out of love.

Natural granite boggles my mind. The luxuriant colors and designs sweep me off my feet, but ultimately feel too detailed for my moderately minimalist tendencies. I blew this one a kiss and walked on.

* * * * *

If, by some fatal flaw in the universe, you are reading these words and saying "HG what now?" then please, let me fill you in. I'm talking about the Home and Garden TV network, and one of its hit shows, Flip or Flop, which showcases the renovation skills and real estate finesse of a Socal couple named Tarek and Christina.

These two fix up houses that are nasty beyond the human imagination and sell them for insane profits. And many episodes feature an iconic scene wherein the kids pick out just the right stone slabs for their redesigned counter tops, while the viewers - and I speak for myself - drool all over themselves at home.

* * * * *

So last week, as our slow-motion and multi-phased kitchen reno moved on toward new counter tops, my slab-selecting dreams came true.

Whoa now. This showstopper hunk of marble made me weak in the knees, and when

I found the price to be within my range, I went home wearing his promise ring.

Sadly, when I returned a few days later to seal the deal, I learned that this slab had been mislabeled

 and was actually priced far beyond my means. Dang it. The search was on yet again.

Daughters Two and Four accompanied me to Pental Granite & Marble where we strolled for a solid hour among the slabs, alternately seeking out specimens to fit our exact criteria, and wandering aimlessly down row after row after row of gorgeous stone to simply drink them in..

Expectations definitely met.

Bucket list item officially ticked.

Dream come true.

New search. new slab, new love story.

This is a humble yet handsome honed Carrara marble that fits into my pocketbook, and promises to bring my eighties oak cabinets up a notch or two. I've committed myself to him, and we are to be united in mid-February.

And while I am excited to see the stone we ultimately chose come to life as counters in my very own kitchen, I will never forget the glory of my day among the slabs.

News Trend An Invitation To Dinner|Actual

A 'before' shot of the lasagna I made for Aqil and Brian. I tried a new recipe which met with rave reviews. Don't worry...I left out the pork.

On Saturday night, I invited two friends over to join my family for dinner.

They arrived around seven and we sat right down to the table.

We ate a lot of dinner.

We talked.

We played a card game.

We took a deep breath and then plowed into dessert.

We watched a movie.

We talked during the slow bits.

We finished and stretched and mulled over the movie and slowly shook ourselves back into the real world

Then I packed them up some leftovers

And my guests said goodnight.

Now. There are two interesting things about this evening that keep circling around in my head.

One:

This was a perfectly ordinary night. I've hosted my fair share of dinner guests over the years, and the script generally follows this same pattern. There was nothing unusual or strange or even the least bit out of the norm during this particular evening.

Two:

This was an extraordinary night. My guests were not neighbors or school buddies or a family from church but two college freshman born on the other side of the world.

Aqil is the cousin of my best Malaysian friend, and Brian is his Taiwanese/Swiss roommate. The guys met while attending an international high school in Kuala Lumpur, and share the experience of growing up in several major cities around the world before landing themselves here in Seattle at the University of Washington.

Both present themselves as articulate, interesting, and thoughtful young men. They are funny, honest, amazingly well-traveled, and super easy to get along with. My family and I find their company thoroughly enjoyable and they seem to like us too.

And on one hand, it's ridiculously clear that all of our differences really amount to nothing at all.

But on the other hand, this world is full of people screaming about differences as if there is no way on God's green earth that we can ever overcome them and find a way to get along.

Maybe the people of this world could solve all the drama by simply inviting each other to dinner more often.

The evening passed by so agreeably that I entirely forgot to take more photos until the guys had gone  home and all that was left was me and this 'after' sink full of dirty dishes.

* * * * *

More stories about my friend, Aqil:

An Invitation To Dinner

Aqil's Chicken

Chicken Drumsticks

Ready To Launch

An All-American Dinner

Moondawg For The Win

News Trend Sweet Citrus|Actual

I've found a sure-fire way to bring order, peace and digestive good health into my dull winter days.

And no, I am not talking about

Feng Shui.

Hot yoga,

Whole 30,

or a chakra alignment.

Here's my secret: go to the grocery store and buy some citrus fruit.

Oranges, grapefruit, tangerines, and satsumas.

Peel them

Eat them

Let the juice run down your chin.

Fill up on their sweet and tangy goodness.

And taking a few photos always boosts the spirits too.

Trust me, you will be transformed.

* * * * *

Some other stories about beating the January blahs:

Sprouts

Plain and Simple

News Trend The Third Time|Actual

This is the back side of the secret building where Ranger and I walk every day.

We first come round at the far end, down by the street light,

and stomp along the lane that runs the full length of the back side of the building.

Barely visible in the shadows are the three slim trees that grow against the building;

the four large windows against the darker grey siding help highlight their location.

Yet another encounter with my owl today.

That's three times in one week. But this time was different than the others.

* * * * *

On our usual walk, with darkness gathering round, Ranger and I cornered our secret building. As soon as the back lawn came into view, my eyes immediately began searching for a white shape among the trees against the building.

I didn't see anything.

And honestly, I suddenly began to doubt that I had ever seen anything. Every day for the past week, I wanted so badly to see that owl, but how did I know for sure that my brain wasn't fooling my eyes into some sort of illusion or trick?

That was entirely possible.

My eyes continued to scan the bare branches of the trees against the building as my brain counseled caution and my feet marched along.

Then.

Suddenly.

Two things happened at once.

* * * * *

Someone inside the building switched on a light. One of the windows directly behind the trees lit up in a flash, and the trees' silhouette now stood out visibly before my eyes.

And in that silhouette, I saw something that was most decidedly not a bare branch.

Near the top of the illuminated window, I saw the outline of something solid, with rounded lobes. Clearly, this was the lower tip of something that extended up into the darkness above the window. Something that looked almost like the tip of a bird's wing.

A big bird's wing.

Adrenalin shot through my body.

My skeptical brain quickly offered up an explanation. This was no owl. This was a small cluster of dead leaves that still clung to the tree, as winter leaves often do.

Well. That would make sense.

But at the same time, my mind's eye clearly recalled that every single inch of those limbs was bare.

Now my skin began to prickle and my hair stood up.

* * * * *

In the same split second, Ranger made a bold move.

Though he had been happily prancing along with me in the center of the paved lane, he suddenly veered toward the lawn, in a direct line toward the base of the trees. He didn't bark or make any overt sign of aggression, but my keenly attuned hunting dog moved with clear motives of instinct and intent.

* * * * *

Then a third thing happened.

It's hard to describe because I didn't actually hear or see anything. But beyond the power of my human senses, I felt a bolt of energy hit me like a surge of electricity.

Chills swept over me.

My body trembled, inside and out.

My brain scrambled to try to make sense of what was happening.

Then I saw it.

Majestic, powerful, enormous bird.

Wings outstretched against the dark sky.

Swiftly, silently, rising up and away from the building.

When my owl was directly over Ranger's agitated red head, the bird abruptly altered his course. I watched as he executed a sharp ninety-degree turn, now traveling directly away from me and my dog, and quickly disappeared into the shadows of the wood.

No part of me felt fear, but I experienced all these things with an almost unbearable tension.

Our third encounter now complete, Ranger and I walked on in the darkness and all I could think was I couldn't wait to see my owl again;

* * * * *

I'm still not sure why this bird has such a profound effect on me.

And I realize that this sounds rather dramatic and extreme.

But after these experiences, I can honestly say that when I see my owl, I feel as though I am staring into the very face of God.

* * * * *

For more stories about my owl, read these:

Vast and Beautiful Mysteries Of Life

Burung Hantu

This Powerful Gift

News Trend Hidden Beauty|Actual

Sitting abandoned on the shelf at the thrift store, the object of my attention looked as battered and beaten down as Lord Voldemort's horcruxed soul.

It's alright, I told myself. I'll drill a hole in the bottom, fill it with dirt and use it as a planter. All those nicks and scratches will disappear behind a riotous display of rich, green leaves.

But on the ride home, this wooden bowl began to speak to me.

Look at my contours, she said. You don't see these kind of curves every day.

Check out my undulating grain patterns. To die for.

And you're right. I would make a lovely planter. But I could be so much more.

As I turned the bowl over in my hands, listening to her voice and imagining the possibilities, I caught a glimpse of a mark on the bottom

Sweden. And undecipherable words that surely must indicate the craftsman.

I'm not a label chaser, but that kind of insignia usually marks an item made with quality and care.

We took a detour to pick up sanding pads and finishing oils.

After ten minutes of sanding and a quick rub-down with mineral oil, all of the scratches, dings and dents had disappeared and my bowl's transformation was complete.

As I proudly displayed my newfound treasure, each of my daughters has asked me, "What are you going to do with it?"

I'm not entirely sure.

But for now, it's more than enough to set my wooden bowl out on the table, where I can see it every day and be reminded now important it is to look beyond the superficial flaws of life to see the hidden beauty that lies underneath.