Bananarama and a belated adventure log

I just realized that I am, perhaps, more often called "Banana" than my actual name ["Anna"] by my intimate friends .
Does this make it an alias?
Does that make me a spy?
groovy.

Speaking of intimate friends... remember how I went on that little trip to Yellowstone the weekend before last?
I do! And here's the proof:

[note: these pictures were taken on something of a crappy camera, and I don't yet have pictures of the really gorgeous stuff. Don't you fret. I will deliver.)

best friend, Mary Button. She's like a sister, mother, therapist, publicist, and girlfriend. All in one.

Guess who showed up? [No, the answer is not Jesus.]

He's actually a very attractive person. He just has to look like a crazed lumberjack/ Hebrew prophet for a movie role.... so, really, it's not much different from dating Brad Pitt.

Love, thunder, and more Deet in the mouth than you could possibly comprehend as an outsider,
Banana

I can see clearly now

Well...almost.
Here's how it goes down:

1 I walk up to the eye test chart, cock-sure of my 20-20 bestowal...

2 My left eye takes 4 or so lines up before it can distinguish a p from an f...

3 I walk away with 20-50 vision.

4 which is quite a bit worse than my mother's...
5 who's in her mid-fifties.
and had a rogue bungee cord severely damage her cornea.

I admit I am sufficiently humbled, and will just have to get cutie specks.
yours in meekness,
Banana

Well said, self.

view from backyard of best friend Mary's lake house. This summer has been so magical.

My cherished, tattered notebook of thoughts, lists, and the occasional be-scribbled poem, inspired me today.

yeah, it's a little narcissistic to inspire myself, I realize.
but still.

It was the last line of this:
Freedom List (LIBERATING TO-DOS)
travel. everywhere.
backpack (travel on meager means. everywhere.)
SCUBA.
skydive.
elope.
become completely financially independent.
motorcycle.
caravan .
sail around the world.
rock climb (real rocks).
live in the city.
live in the boonies.
and here it is:
*get lost in the lustre of existence*

my own profundity astounds me sometimes. (Note the use of the "re" ending. Very European.)
ummm I really hope I didn't read that phrase somewhere.

How should I go about doing that?

love. banana.

I'm a readin' machine!

"The boy didn’t know what a person’s 'Personal Legend' was.

“It’s what you have always wanted to accomplish. Everyone, when they are young, knows what their Personal Legend is.

“At that point in their lives, everything is clear and everything is possible. They are not afraid to dream, and to yean for everything they would like to see happen to them in their lives. But, as time passes, mysterious forces begins to convince them that it will be impossible for them to realize their Personal Legend."

I finished this last night.

It was beautiful!

I think sometimes the most profound thoughts are best expressed with simplicity.
I feel all motivated now to
1. realize my personal legend
2. make each day a day of learning and growth
3. Never ever fear failure
4. [in the least trite way possible] Believe in myself.

And it helps that I'll be seeing the Egyptian pyramids myself in a month or so!

*Stay tuned for the photographs of my magnificent weekend adventure in the back country of Yellowstone*

love, camels, and the Soul of the Universe,
banana

Oh, Charles...

Okay. So I finished this book.

I am blown away
by the fact that something I started many many months ago and felt agony reading through much of
ended up being
one of the most beautiful things I have ever laid my mind on.

I was totally moved to tears.
I was totally impressed.
It was totally worth it.

The humanity, the insight, the language, the humor, the masterful understanding of the human being....


sigh.

I decided, after closing the glorious cover, my heart and eyes all burny, that I would (like Desmond on "LOST") read "every glorious word" of that
magical Mr. Dickens'.

Liberté, égalité, et fraternité,

banane

In thirty six days

I will be here.I am so grateful.
And I can't wait till it feels real.

Banana

thanks for le foto

For the love of embarassment

In case you need just a little slice of someone else's shame to brighten up your day...

1. look at his received calls

(Yes, I go by both "Banana" and "Babe" depending on whether I'm at work or not)

2. Look at this picture of my boss I found in the depths of my computer's files

And there you have it!

Love, long-distance relationships, and TGIF,
banana

I'mma gonna tell you a leetle secret.

thanks for the photo

I work at the office/ practice facility of the Spokane Shock Arena Football Team (But that's not the secret).

The nearest restroom is located strangely in a large room used by the sports medicine people to treat troublesome players (not the secret either. Just hang on a second!).
So there's a lot of room and a cool rubbery floor.

Here's the secret:
When I get bored typing in work orders and daydreaming, I sneak into the bathroom and do ballet leaps.

My greatest fear is that someone will catch me in the act. But I think inside I also sort of think it would be fun.

...Wouldn't it?

love, banana

To Do

start a bluegrass band

learn to paint

live in a high-rise apartment that I might hang my laundry across an alleyway [take a looksie]

Find a more enduring life plan

plant my lavender seeds

dream dream dream about my future in jerusalem

Get home from work. choco banana smoothie. book. grass. shade. cuddly baby puppy.

What do you wanna do?

love and things,

banana <3

Lighthouses and Stoplights

1. I'm now a tweeter. And my twit is buhnanna

2. I write first lines and brief beginnings to novels I never finish. In a way, it’s a quirky hobby I sincerely enjoy indulging in. In another it’s inexplicably unavoidable and accompanies an odd sense of obligation.

Either way, I doubt I’ll ever be a published author, and I highly doubt I’ll ever write anything worth reading.

But what I write isn’t for anyone else. I like to think of it as a convenient way to make a daily release of some pent-up soul; little bits of the true, unknown me struggling to get out and make a lot more sense once I can analyze them on paper. I get to know myself a little better with each line I write, and, if I’m lucky, take one step nearer to understanding the wilderness of mystery that is my thoughts. A line came to me the other day while sitting at a stoplight:

There I sat, the muffled Gwen Stefani song barely audible on the radio, and my mind dazedly wandering past the crammed intersection and long line of Friday rushers at the bank to some indistinguishable oasis in the corner of my mind that oddly included a lighthouse and lonely pair of sneakers:

I wonder what they’re doing there, I thought, the faded blue
high-tops half submerged in the low tide, rocking endlessly over the rocky shore
with the rhythmic pulse of the waves. Their pathetic plight evoked wordless
images, like some distant memory from a dream just a little too far back in
consciousness to recall. But the light turned green, and off I went, with one
more vague idea I might jot down in my tattered flower notebook later if I had a
minute during work. But even though my mind continued its habitual wandering as
I followed my familiar route down pothole-ridden roads scorched with the heat of
summer and neglect of decades, the distant taste of salty spray lingered on my
tongue. And in a remote part of an unexplored, untouched portion of my brain, I
dimly agreed with myself that the dignified old lighthouse on the ridge with its
flaking white paint and rickety railing of faded red was, indeed, much more like
reality than the familiar Shell station up ahead, dutifully indicating my next
turn.

I....

......miss Hawaii!!!!

Will it ever forgive me for abandoning it?

Today I particularly miss:

-yowling, mating feral catsong in the night

-hi chews

-that eating spam was okay. even encouraged.

-(somewhat) safely picking up hitchhikers and kindly being offered marijuana in return

-sunrise rituals with the ocean, the sand, my thoughts, and God

-warm rain dancing

-rainbow-speckled moonshine

-handlebar cruiser rides through laie

-climbing mountains and seeing a new, soul-taking view every few minutes

-birds and dumptrucks waking me up every morning

-aloha. aloha aloha aloha.

love.

comradery.

campfires and songs and mud and toes

and insence and water and flowers and sand and smiles and

long, satisfied, thankful breaths.

every single magical day.

All about the boy who came to stay

Once, not too long ago, a bearded man came and slept in our book room on pink sheets and a frog pillow.

He was a good sport.

We had countless adventures.

For example, we ate a funnel cake:

We got a puppy.
We frolicked and explored and got questioned by the police and rode rollercoasters and had picnics and watched sunsets and went to a play and cooked amazing pork tacos and swam and kayaked in a magical field of lily pads while a thunder storm brewed and walked through gardens and read things and went on scenic strolls and kissed in public and napped and ate SO MUCH and and and

My family loves him.
My friends love him.
My friends' families love him.
My dog loves him.

...And I like him an awful lot.

Come back please.

Banana.

Welcome to the forest, Little Prince

It's a boy! (puppy. It's a boy puppy.)

Please give a warm welcome to

(Or Huck Phin if you prefer...)

My new little darling who now shares my heart and pillow.

He brings a little diversity to the small herd of Aryan Nations lap dogs my mother keeps in the back.

(Yes, you may comment on the insanity of four little canines if you wish but I may abstain from commenting in order to uphold my family's honor)

Come play with us!! Love, romping, and middle-of-the-night nose bites,

Nina

Oh, Victor...

"Be like the bird that,
passing on her flight awhile on boughs too slight,
feels them give way beneath her,
and yet sings, knowing that she hath wings."

-Victor Hugo I still have time this summer. Time to break out Les Miserables? unabridged?

I think so.

p.s. can I be like the bird? what sort of bird are you?

-Anna Banana

thanks for the photo

In praise of the prominent nose

Okay, so I was thinking.... why does Sara Bareilles always hide her nose?

Everyone nose (please pardon the puns) a healthy (if not hefty) schnoz is the
mark of a good set of pipes and a remarkable sex appeal.

I mean...just take a look at Barbra!

She's
timeless, right? (With a renewable supply of bare-chested men at her
fingertips). I think it may be a proven fact that engorged olfactory nerves make
for better music-making.
Why else would it be called a horn?

duh.

But see how it's cast in shadow
here?And over-exposed here??I must say, I'm worried about her sneezer's esteem...

Lest we forget what happened to our good friend
Mikey!

You catch my whifft? (I'm killing myself here)

... It's kind of cute, you know?

I mean, look at Napoleon!
He's frickin hot! (And powerful)

(....and slightly romanticized in this portrait but I'm still a loyal fan)

Would we love Owen even half as much?And
didn't Cyrano's nez make for one of the best literary/ cinematic events
of tout temps?

Need I even mention Ron Weasley?
Albus Dumbledore?
Pinnochio!? ELMO?

And besides, how cool are Elephants!?!?I myself am the grateful beneficiary of something of a prominent snuffer. I think maybe I

• smell more
• taste more
• give better eskimo kisses
• have a more recognizable profile
• have a higher IQ
• shave my legs faster
• alphabetize more efficiently
• attract men with accents, muscles, and silky long eye lashes quicker and longer

Let us celebrate the snoot.

dear adenoids,

here's to you. we love you.

In the majestic words of Saturday's Warrior:

You ain't got a nose till it touches your toes,

and it grows every time that it blows.

love, music, and the plentiful proboscis,

Anna