A Day At The Zoo (In Pictures)

I don't pretend to be a professional photographer. I'm really not. I barely consider myself an amateur. But I love taking pictures, especially when I can point my lens at something relatively interesting. And a rainy afternoon at the Riverbanks Zoo was just the excuse I needed to go all Ansel Adams on you guys. 


And so, I present to you my very first photo gallery, hosted by Abby Gabs. Enjoy.

Sri Lankan Fishing Cat

Meerkat

African Elephant

Juvenile Giraffe

Hamadryas Baboon

African Lion

Grizzly Bear

Red Kangaroo

They turned out great, didn't they? But it wouldn't be a true Abby Gabs gallery without a few candids...am I right?

Our zoo pals for the day, Steven and Arielle.

Abby and Arielle, finding shelter from the rain.

Steven feeding some very hungry Lorikeets.

My favorite picture of the day. Brian = Buffet.

Hanging out by the elephants, enjoying a frosty beverage.

Well, I may never be a paid professional photographer, but I try. Somehow I'm not surprised that the funny pictures turned out just as good (if not better) than the serious ones. Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all.

Even if we were emptying rainwater out of our shoes by the end of the day.

Is there anything more comical than huge white trash-bag ponchos bearing the silhouettes of zoo animals? I think not.

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PS: Gold! Diamonds! Money! None of these things are the grand prize for winning your vote in the Yeah Write challenge. In fact, we really only win bragging rights. And pride. And the rights to strut around for approximately 24 hours after the votes are tallied.  But your vote would still be greatly appreciated.  Head on over to Yeah Write to check out some awesome bloggers, and leave your vote by way of checking the little yellow star next to my entry, "Mood Swings." Make sure you vote for 4 others as well---you won't have a hard time finding blogs you love. They're all fantastic!!

Mood Swings

Restless. Like the pounding of the sea in that ancient rhythm. The ebb and flow of my life leaves me wanting more. My soul is itchy beneath my skin, desperate for meaning. I look to menial tasks to make me feel like I've accomplished something in a day where my only duty is to answer the phone, answer the email, answer the same question over and over. There's no logic to it. There's no real reason to feel this way. And yet, I do. I need to get out. I need to get away. I need to bury my feet in the sand, lift my face to the sun, and purge discontent. I am restless.

Content. Like wrapping hands around a steaming mug of fresh coffee. It spreads its warmth up through my chest, wrapping me in an embrace as familiar as time. I prop my feet up on my husband's lap, cover us both with the gray-green afghan, and sink into gratification. There's nowhere to be tonight. No deadlines to meet, no tests to cram for, nothing requiring our immediate attention. Brian rubs lazy circles on my calf with his thumb and my eyelids begin to droop. As the moon rises in the sky, I feel my heart fill with unrestricted, absolute love. I am content.

Listless. Like every muscle has turned to water and any spirit once perceived has now dissipated. Lifeless, limbless, I am so much flotsam on a lazy sea. I have no desire to move, no desire to breathe, no desire at all. I float on an air of laziness. The only energy spent is that of the solitary tear drop that ekes from my eye. Questions bounce around in my brain: When is it my turn? When will life stop being so hard? What did I do wrong? A thunderclap outside and all I can think is finally, the weather will match my mood. I am listless.

Hopeful. Like a gull on the edge of the wind, soaring up, up, up into the blue. I place my hands on my belly and close my eyes, imagining what it will be like to feel life move beneath them one day. In the deepest parts of night, I lie awake, eyes barely focused on the popcorn ceiling, and pretend I can hear her cries for me, wailing through the gloom. I can almost trace the swell of her cheeks, the curve of her elbow, the slope of her nose, as if it were my own face in my mind's eye. Hair, thick and dark; eyes the color of rain clouds; fingernails minuscule and translucent: I can see her. How I dream for her. How I wish for her. Knowing that she is still within me, somewhere...I am hopeful.

Hurt. Like a child sent to bed without her supper for no reason she can understand. I am bewildered, rejected, discarded like so much trash. I reexamine everything I ever said, everything I ever did, to deserve this treatment. I turn to those I can still trust, those who love me for who and what I am, those who don't judge me for my misgivings. And still, it is there, in the back of my mind. Each word a weapon, and the silences that are deafening. They seem to go on forever. I've wished for a chance to understand. But I do not. I cannot. And I have to stop trying. For my own sake, for yours. I will retreat to my corner now and lick my wounds. Self-preservation is the only avenue I know now. I am hurt.

Optimistic. Like the very knowledge that the storm will eventually blow over. The bits and pieces will be picked up and put back together again. I will find a way to move past the others and be victorious. My life may not be perfect, but my life is my own. I will live it to the fullest, find a way to dull the aches and overcome the pains. I will revel in my love, my family, my friends. I will write and write and write, peeling away a layer each time I hit "publish." I will laugh too loudly, love too fiercely, and live too largely. I will be okay. I am optimistic.

I am linking up with Yeah Write today,

because it's not very often that I'm in a serious 

mood, and so it should be recorded

for posterity.

Unicorns and Rainbows

I read a lot of blogs. A lot a lot. But there are only a handful of blogs that I read on a daily basis. One of those in my "top five" is Late Enough, written by fellow blogger and zombie aficionado, Alex. She's a planner, she's delightfully funny, and she's a Super Mom (i.e., the kind of Mom I hope to be one day.) And did I mention that her husband is always enthusiastic about participating in her blog? (Hint hint, Brian...)


In short, I am a major Late Enough groupie. It's true.


One average, run-of-the-mill Wednesday back in March, I was enjoying my daily dose of Late Enough humor with a blog post titled "What I Did Instead of Writing A Thoughtful Post." I smiled. I recognized a few of my own best procrastination techniques. I even giggled a few times. But it wasn't until I got to the bottom of the posts and read the tags that I literally laughed out loud. 

Alex never misses a chance to draw a laugh out of her audience, even if it happens in the tags (which, let's face it, most people don't bother to read.) I, however, try to create silly tags for my own posts so I always read them. And this one has to be, hands down, my favorite tag, ever. And so, in true worshiper fashion, I left Alex a comment.

I laughed when I read her response, totally assuming that she was just being her witty self again, even in the comment form. I went about my day, occasionally picturing unicorns dancing in my head, but never putting much more thought into her request for an Abby Gabs Photoshopped graphic....


....Until she called me out on Twitter a few days later.

Needless to say, I was thrilled beyond belief that Alex wanted to collaborate with me on a Late Enough project. Naturally, it had to be PERFECT. So I spend a couple of days choosing the right images, deliberating over the perfect fonts, reworking the wording of the selection.


After about a week, Alex and I had come up with a graphic we both loved. And just a few days ago, that graphic was released for purchase, worldwide, on Alex's Zazzle shop.


That's right, readers. You can now own your very own Late Enough/Abby Gabs t-shirt, coffee mug, or bumper sticker!!

T-Shirt Terrificness

Coffee Mug Coolness

Bumper Stick Awesomeness

I truly couldn't be more excited about this if I tried. Getting to work with Alex was so much fun, and I'm secretly keeping my fingers crossed that she'll think of another graphic idea that she wants soon. I am her slave in the Photoshop world. 


In the meantime, if you love unicorns and sarcasm, this might just be the graphic for you. Feel free to visit the Late Enough Zazzle Shop in order to tweak your design. You can choose different t-shirt styles, colors, and fits. You can also choose between a plethora of different coffee mugs. 


It's everything that is awesome about Late Enough and Abby Gabs, all smooshed into one picture. After all, what could be better than unicorns, sarcasm, and pretty colors? Well, I'll tell you. A coffee delivery system with unicorns, sarcasm, and pretty colors, that's what.

A Glimpse Into the Thought Process of That Gabby Abby

Yesterday was one of those days. You know, the kind where I watched the clock, waiting not-so-patiently for 5:00, so I could race to the door, lock up, and officially end my day of hell work. At 4:59, sharp, I flipped the sign on the door to "CLOSED," grabbed my keys, and headed out to park the golf cart for the night. (Yes, I have a golf cart. I swear, it's not as exciting as it seems.)


As I walked outside, I noticed that the wind was beginning to pick up. I'd looked at the radar a few hours earlier and watched the progress of the storms blowing in our direction. I took a deep breath in, and hoped for a thunderstorm. They always cheer me up.


I climbed onto the cart, put my key in the ignition, and put it in drive. Off I went, the last step in finishing my workday.


As I turned the corner, a gust of wind smacked me in the face, blowing my hair in all different directions. Suddenly, there was an itchy, tingly feeling on my left ankle. I reached down and scratched, never taking my foot off of the accelerator. 


Another gust of wind, and that weird itchy feeling came back almost immediately. My first, immediate thought was, "Crap on a cracker, I bet it's a spider."


I pulled up to the unit door where I'd be parking the cart, put on the parking break, and glanced down at my ankle, heart pounding, expecting to see an eight-legged demon hitching a ride on my leg. Instead, I saw this:

I tried to take a picture. Apparently, that's as difficult at this angle
as actually hitting this spot with my razor.

Now, I've been shaving my legs every single day since I was 12 years old. No joke. I can't stand the feeling of stubble, and so every morning, I dutifully lather up and shave my legs. And somehow, I'd managed to miss a spot. But it wasn't just a small, stubbly spot that had been missed for a day or two. This was a patch of hair, each one approximately an inch long, that was blowing in the breeze like Farrah Fawcett in a wind tunnel.


Seriously. They were long enough to braid. 


I was immediately concerned with my own lack of attention to detail. Clearly, I'd been haphazard in my daily shaving. I checked my other ankle, and it was smooth as a baby's butt. So, it was just my left ankle that was proving to be a difficult place to reach with my razor.


As I walked into the office to finish my paperwork, I wondered to myself what would happen if I continued to miss that same spot over and over again. And then it hit me.

May the fourth be with you.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how my thought process often leads to posts here on Abby Gabs. (And yes, the idea of Photoshopping Chewbacca onto my ankle really did pop into my head. I'm not fibbing.)

A Princess Party for Two

Reason number eleventy hundred and twenty one why I adore Twitter---it gives me the opportunity to talk to other bloggers. Case in point: about a week ago, I was perusing my Twitter feed when I noticed friend and fellow blogger, Laverne, from Kindred Adventures, was tweeting about a somewhat boring experience at a child's birthday party. I jumped in, hoping to give her a reason to giggle. 


And our conversation led to this blog post.


And so, without further ado, I'm thrilled to give you my very first co-blog, written by Laverne and illustrated by yours truly. Please enjoy!

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White mock-vintage mirrors hung on the purple walls. A table in the middle of the room held china place settings, ready for a tea party. A small stage in the back of the room waited to be filled with 5-year-olds dressed as princesses. Rock-n-roll musical chairs, Justin Bieber, hip-hop-hokey-pokey and Taylor Swift pulsated continuously. Smiles painted their faces and rosy cheeks, glitter and giggles and screeches showed their happiness. A room holding racks of princess dresses, rows and rows of bedazzled shoes, pails of crowns and containers of wands waited to transport the girls from a birthday party to the world of princesses.

I sunk into the yellow paisley embroidered couch. My daughter didn't want me to leave. (I had planned on dropping her off and then heading over to a coffee shop for some "me" time.) I was here at the Princess Party for the duration...two long hours. Sigh. The smell of bubble gum perfume, children's lip gloss and nail polish saturated the room. The music intertwined with the eardrum-piercing screeching left me of thoughts of my own. I took out my phone and began to tweet. 

I tweeted some more...and still, nothing.

Then, there she was...Abby.

Now it was my turn to smile.

"How are you? What are you up to?" I was happy to find a friendly face that might help make the time fly by.

"Just finished a great run. All good here! How are you?" she happily replied.

"I'm at a princess party right now and hopefully soon, a few beverages, some dinner, and bed!" I shared.

"Aw, man!," Abby tweeted giddily. "I wanna have a princess party!" 

My imagination began to drift. Suddenly I felt like I was with Abby in one of her drawings. Just what would it be like if our life was like a Princess Party?

Of course, the hardest thing we'd have to do in the morning would be just to get out of bed. Our hair, nails, and makeup would be done for us.

Too much glitter and enough sequins--enough to blind a person--would be all the rage. The second hardest thing we would do would be to decide which of the rows and rows of sequins, puffy, fluffy layered dressed we wanted to wear that day.

Our day would be spent twirling in our dresses and hanging out with other princesses, doing what princesses do best.

"Mommy....Mooommmyyy......MOMMY!"

My daydream crashed around me. "Yes sweetie?"

"I have to go potty."

Sigh.

It was glittery and sparkly and wonderful.....while it lasted!

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Princess dresses, tiaras, and Jose Cuervo...you guys KNOW I had a blast working on this project with Laverne!!! I hope you'll check out her awesome blog, co-written with best pal, Shirley. And I hope that one day soon, Laverne and I will be able to have a real life Princess Party...without Justin Bieber. (Just sayin'.)

Today we're linking up with Yeah Write.

Because we have a feeling that there are some

other closeted princesses out there in the

blogosphere that might like to join us for

a royal margarita...or two...