bee sides

girls weekend out 2011 - redwood tree house

2011-09-06T16:57:00.000-07:00

here we go

crossing the golden gate

we haven't even started drinking

through the skylight you can see this redwood ...

that grows right up through the center of the house

ok now we started drinking ...

bra art

skipping stones

frittata

blueberry french toast

puerto rican roast pork

limoncello

l to r: hoochie, nuria, tiger lily, she who skins deer, lady uva, lola

these are all over town in calistoga

shasta

2011-02-22T08:43:00.000-08:00

RIP gary moore ...

2011-02-06T16:22:00.000-08:00

so sad, another legendary guitar player, gone too soon.(pause music player at right before playing this video)

ernie halter

2011-02-06T09:55:00.003-08:00

nobody no more

2010-12-25T01:25:00.000-08:00

kenny's son, crosby. (pause the player on the right before playing the video below)

i can't stop cooking!

2010-12-24T19:11:00.001-08:00

it's this weather. the colder and rainer it gets, the more i cook. it started with a little canning. tomato chutney, lemon chutney, and ketchup.

then it was eggs. what a difference a happy, healthy chicken makes.

can you tell which eggs are pastured?

with local, organic mushrooms, onions, and fingerling potatoes, all from my CSA

made a beautiful frittata

hmm .. what else can i do with eggs ... oooh, i know ...

can't get over the color of those yolks

fried rice

which goes well with ...

slow cooked pork

now ... what to do with all these apples in season now?

lots of butter

a little brown sugar, ginger, and cinnamon

delicious on top of pancakes

and more eggs ...

scrambled with raw cream, and local, organic potatoes, onions and red peppers

on cold, rainy days, the crock pot calls ...

chicken ....

and dumplings - can you say comfort food?

spaghetti sauce

with sweet italian sausage

and, courtesy of all this cooking ....

'food' for the compost bin - to return all that fertility to the soil.

darla

2010-12-19T12:35:00.000-08:00

christmas was in the air. december 19th 1998, still a little time to finish up last minute shopping. a little crisp in the air.

the phone rings. husband answers. i hear him say a few words ... while he's looking at me in an odd way that i can't translate. a few sentences later, he hands the phone to me. it's my brother. "i have some terrible news" he says. my immediate response is, who is it?

"darla, and the boys, were killed in a car accident."

"kyle and jared??"

"and darla."

i don't remember the rest of the actual conversation. except that when her mother and husband arrived at the scene, from opposite directions, the coroner had already taken their bodies away.

missy and darla

darla and i understood each other more than any one else could. our fathers were brothers. our mothers had similar wounds. she was the first one to feel my daughter's kicks from the womb, and i was present when she gave birth to her first child, kyle. kyle's birth was dramatic, and darla was heroic. kyle was eventually diagnosed with cerebral palsy (a result of limited oxygen during the traumatic birth), and autism. he was a joy, just a fantastic kid. he could do things with a yo-yo that no adult could. darla was a saint. she altered her entire life so that she could be what kyle needed. she quit her job. she started a support group in her community for parents of autistic children.

i flew to the funeral. i saw things i hope i never do again. a grieving mother. a grieving husband - who lost his entire family in one tragic moment. the sound that came from him was not even human. two coffins. one with kyle, holding his yo-yo. and one with darla, holding her baby boy. so many people loved them. the fire marshall actually had to start turning people away from the funeral, over a thousand people, more than the building could accomodate.

when i arrived back home, on christmas day, there was a package on my doorstep. christmas presents. from darla. something for each of us. damn you, darla. did you have to be so perfect?

Trees planted in their memory

mount shasta, july 2010

2010-08-09T19:57:00.000-07:00

breathtaking

castle lake

prayer flags .. sweet

emma and sophie .. look how clear the water is

mccloud - old mining town near mt. shasta

mccloud

so charming

olde candy shoppe

my kind of store

mccloud hotel

headwaters of sacramento river - in mt. shasta city park

a robin enjoying the shasta water

view from downtown mt. shasta

bridge in mt. shasta city park, leading to hiking trails

it's a sign!!!

egomaniac me (sacramento bee newspaper)

mccloud

girls weekend out 2010 - santa cruz

2010-08-09T19:20:00.000-07:00

all packed and ready to go

"gwo 2010

santa cruz"

wine tasting

our beach house rental

bras, too

pour the wine ...

and let's get this party started

gwo altar (pic of the one missing tota)

nuri, lola, lily

dinner on friday ...

nuri's cobb salad

the first gifts - from hoochie

shopping in capitola

bookstore in santa cruz

lunch and bloodies at margaritaville

gifts from lady uva (handmade gwo note cards inside)

choose a scarf, any scarf (gifts from kaya)

breakfast sunday (massage day), a joint effort

backyard

our new favorite backyard wine - cupcake chardonay

handmade gifts from nuri

lunch on massage day, hoochie's gazpacho and lily's tuna salad

more gifts from nuri

these adorable feet belong to our massage therapist who stayed all day sunday to work all our kinks out

gifts from lily: 'there are things you do because they feel right and they make no sense and they may make no money and it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other, to eat each other's cooking and say it was good.'

dinner on massage night by lady uva and she, fish tacos

old tradition - monday morning dream vessel

new tradition - tea ceremony

beach houses

aw, they're hugging

aw, they're hugging (kaya and she)

the santa cruz boardwalk

on the wharf

until 2011

thich nhat hahn public talk, 9/18/2009, 'our true agenda'

2009-09-21T14:49:00.000-07:00

seated on their cushions and dressed in their robes, were the monks and nuns from plum village, thich nhat hanh's monastery in france. monks on the right, nuns on the left. thich nhat hanh's space was noticeably vacant, in the center, a large floral arrangement to the right of his cushion. first one of the young nuns led a breathing meditation, instructing us to breathe in and out as a flower, as a cloud, as a bird, as the earth, etc., 'breathing in, free, breathing out, free,' ringing the gong in between each set of instructions.

then with very little fanfare, we were asked to stand 'for our teacher,' (i had chills). escorted by two other monks, he walked onto the stage gracefully, bowed to us (we bowed back), and he took his cushion. he greeted us, and then there was some shuffling on the stage as the monks stood up and moved over to the nuns' side. they all stood and chanted together for us. so beautiful.

then he began to speak in his powerful, yet gentle way. i am often disarmed by the eloquence and humor that flows so effortlessly out of this peaceful monk. he began to speak of teaching children to meditate with the 'pebble meditation.' he had a small cloth bag on his left, containing four pebbles. as he removed each pebble he explained the symbolism. the first pebble represents a flower, new. the second pebble: 'i see myself as a mountain. i feel solid. stablity, solidity, without it other people cannot rely on us.' third pebble: 'i see myself as still water. when water is still it can reflect everything, the image is not distorted, our mind can be calm and still like the surface of a lake when there is no wind. be still in order to know. when you are still, your buddha heart will show. you are penetrated by god, by the image of the buddha.' fourth pebble: 'i see myself as space. when you are able to transform suffering, you bring alot of space into our hearts. offering space is the best thing to offer when you love someone. when we do not have enough space in our hearts, how can we offer space to our loved ones?'

he told us that he was asked a question in an interview, 'what do you still wish to realize in your life?'

first, a little background. thich nhat hanh will turn 83 in three weeks. he founded the engaged buddhism movement. he speaks seven languages (two of them dead languages, pali and sanskrit), grew up in vietnam with war and death all around him, joined the monastery at 16, simultaneously helping to rebuild bombed out villages and schools, and while visiting the US in 1966 met with martin luther king and convinced him to publicly oppose the war. king subsequently nominated him for the nobel peace prize. (because king spoke about his choice for nomination, which is against the rules, there was no prize given that year). as a result of that trip, thich nhat hanh was not allowed to re-enter vietnam, and has been in exile ever since. he has written over 100 books, 40+ are published in english. he wrote this about war and anger:

during the war in vietnam, there was a lot of injustice, and many thousands, including friends of mine, many disciples of mine, were killed. i got very angry. i did not say anything, i did not act, because i knew that acting or saying things while you are angry is not wise. it may create a lot of destruction. i went back to myself, recognizing my anger, embracing it, and looked deeply into the nature of my suffering. i was able to understand the nature of the suffering in vietnam. i saw that not only vietnamese suffered, but americans suffered as well during the war in vietnam. the young american man who was sent to vietnam in order to kill and be killed underwent a lot of suffering, and the suffering continues today. the family, the nation also suffers. i could see that the cause of our suffering in vietnam is not american soldiers.

back to the interview question, 'what do you still want to realize?' his response, 'every moment of my life is realization.'

'when you focus your attention on the future, you lose the present moment. there are more than enough conditions to be happy in the present moment. the future is made of the present, and if we take care of the present, we are doing everything to be happy now. our appointnent with life exists only in the present moment, and missing it can be very serious. do not lose yourself in sorrow and regret from the past. free yourself. many of us are caught in the past. take the hand of the wounded child and invite him or her to come and play in the present. we are grown, we are no longer vulnerable. bring the mind back to the present with mindful breathing. living in the present moment is the core teaching of the buddha.'

then he spoke about one of his favored practices, walking meditation. 'when you walk, say, 'i have arrived. i am home.' it means, i have arrived in the here and now. i have been running my whole life to the future. all the wonders of life are available only in the present moment. god, the kingdom of happiness and joy, is available 24 hours a day, are we available? make yourself available to the kingdom in one step. the kingdom of god is not a statement. it is a realization. we should train ourselves to arrive. bring your attention to the sole of your foot, your sole kisses the ground as you touch the earth.'

thay* began closing his talk by repeating his often quoted mantra, 'the miracle is not to walk on the clouds, or to walk on water, but to walk on the earth. with every step we touch the kingdom of god.

'aimlessness means you don't put anything in front of you and run after it. the kingdom of god, to me, is not an abstract idea. you can touch it with your hand. a flower, the blue sky, a pine tree, a running stream, and you, you belong to the kingdom. it's possible for me to look deeply into you and realize that the kingdom is in you. the kingdom of god is where there is great compassion and understanding. i think that is a safe definition.

'you can even change the past. maybe you said something hurtful to your grandma, and now she is gone. you can meditate, say 'grandma, i am so sorry that i said those words to you. grandma, you are still here, you live in every cell of my body, and i promise not to say that again to anyone else.' and in this way, you can change the past, because her energy is here now. you are her continuation.

'it is by touching suffering that we cultivate understanding and compassion. if there is no mud, you cannot grow a lotus flower. many of us are afraid of suffering, we run away. but we should learn to hold on to our suffering. we have to recognize it, our own and the suffering of others. i would not want my children to live where there is no suffering, because they would not learn to be compassionate to the suffering of others.

'a flower is made of non-flower elements. you can see the earth, the cloud, the minerals, time and space. when these non-flower elements come together, the flower is made. you cannot remove the sunshine from the flower. that is interbeing.'

*many followers call him simply thay, (pronounced 'tay'), the vietnamese word for teacher.

fruitfulness

2009-09-05T17:35:00.000-07:00

interesting how the universe bundles together messages.

"have you ever noticed that when your mind is awakened or drawn to someone new, that person's name suddenly pops up everywhere you go? my friend sophie calls it coincidence, and mr. simpless, my parson friend, calls it grace. he thinks that if one cares deeply about someone or something new one throws a kind of energy out into the world, and 'fruitfulness' is drawn in."

- the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society, by mary ann shaffer and annie barrows

ethan nichtern

2009-09-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

two reasons i love ethan nichtern, founder of 'the interdependence project.' in the quote below, he's speaking about monastics who have taken a celibacy vow, i've edited a bit for brevity.

i've always had a certain bias on the things that monks and nuns in their practice would avoid, that the rest of us deal with. all of the intricacies, all of the icky places, all the charged emotions, all the human connections, the whole ball of wax that comes from intimate relationships, sex, whatever kind of exchanges we as non-monastic people have that they cut out of their life. my particular thought on monks and nuns, has always been that they were cheating. that they made a choice, that says, ok, this is a part of life, i'm not going to do that part, it's too hard.

the dalai lama is quoted as saying that the purpose of sex is the creation of life, so that seems to say that sex where you're not trying, or succeeding, in getting a pregnancy going would be problematic. the dalai lama is a great man, but, don't ask the dalai lama! who is the idiot who asked the dalai lama about sexual relationships? the dalai lama doesn't know anything about sex. don't ask him questions about that.

i dunno, it just makes me feel better.

the second reason. he agrees with me about 'worldly.' (he's obviously brilliant.) i've never heard anyone else be bothered about this concept that worldly is somehow bad.

so what's the meaning of this idea 'worldly?' worldly has this very perjorative or negative context to it. 'of the world.' you hear that sometimes repeated in contemporary spiritual teaching, this idea that the point is to be in the world but not of the world. the point is not to be worldly. so you wonder, what the hell does that mean? i think the proper response, if someone says they're trying to be in the world but not of the world, the only appropriate question is, what the hell are you talking about? if you're going on retreat, you're not doing that on mars. if it's otherworldly, it's still worldly, it's just another world. you gotta land on some planet, no matter what you do. this idea that it's possible to not be worldly is kind of ridiculous.

oh, and he's anti-plastic. that's three reasons.

intention

2009-09-02T11:32:00.000-07:00

my entry in the dream vessel at gwo 2009:

greener,

simpler,

smaller,

happier.

fire

2009-08-10T20:52:00.000-07:00

There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke. ~Vincent van Gogh

so i'm at home tending to a few chores, one of which is boiling a heat pack that i use for outcalls. you may know the sort, it's filled with liquid and has a little metal button floating inside that you pinch, which initiates a chemical reaction that heats up the liquid. voila! instant heat pack. once it cools off, the liquid solidifies, and to reset it, you have to boil it. when it seems done, i turn off the stove and do something else. later, when i go to take it out of the pot, i notice a couple of corners that haven't liquified, so i re-light the burner. a few minutes later, my son texts 'can you come get me now?' sure, and off i go.

he's about 15 minutes away. i arrive, he gets in the car, and we head back for home. it hits me a few minutes later ....

"OH NO!"

"what?"

"i left the stove on!"

immediate panic sets in. still at least ten minutes from home, i rush as much as i can without causing an accident. i figure the best case scenario is the water has boiled away, plastic melted, ruined heat pack, ruined pot, smokey, stinky burnt plastic smell filling the house. worst case scenario, my house and the ones on either side of it are engulfed in flames. after what seems like a lifetime, we pull into the driveway and before i've even stopped the car, son has his car door open and bolts for the house. i park and am right behind him, expecting a stinky, smokey mess. what we find, is a pot half full of simmering water, with the heat pack benignly floating inside. disaster averted. whew ... enough adrenaline was flowing through my system to power a small city for a week. mental note ... pay attention!

a few days later, it's the night before girls weekend. all packed, so excited it's hard to get to sleep, but i finally do. next thing i remember, i'm awake but i'm not sure why. i turn my head to look at my clock radio to check the time .. and ... well .. isn't that strange ... my alarm clock is ON FIRE. no, i'm not kidding. flames! a good foot high! right next to my head!! i realize that what woke me was the smoke detector in my bedroom. and can i tell you i have no recollection of how i got the fire out, or how i managed to unplug it from behind the heavy solid wood nightstand it was sitting on, but somehow i ended up on my front porch, half-melted clock on the patio table. this is the first time my smoke alarm has gone off for something besides toast. mental note .. be careful!! (there may or may not have been a candle burning in the general vicinity of the clock when i fell asleep.)

i tell the story at girls weekend, to their horror. that was close, they say, and you're so lucky. be careful!!!

come home from girls weekend, go back to work. while at work i get a pix message from my business partner at the wellness center. three pictures, with the text: "the wellness center burned down last night. yes, i said burned down."

whaa???

the suites that burned were the ones we had just moved from, so we are now two doors down from the fire, although we were still using one room and had some things in there that didn't survive. bummer, but it could have been much worse. no one was hurt, as the fire broke out in the middle of the night. apparantly someone in a nearby apartment saw some smoke or flames and called the fire department.

i call my friend of 30+ years and describe these events. the next day she calls me and says, 'i think fire is chasing you.' she talked to her SO about it, and they agreed there was some significance there. 'it's got to be something spritual, don't you think?' something about purging and new beginnings, something powerful. 'do you know how powerful you are?' she even wishes fire were chasing her. i'd really rather a fire fighter were chasing me .. but whatever.

after thinking on this for a few weeks, i decide there are some stagnant areas in my life, and i did need a fire lit underneath me. maybe that burning clock really was a wake up call. i make a mental to-do list.

i am reminded of how annoyed i was in my last relationship, when he would use the analagy of 'back to the front burner,' to describe our relationship. flattering. i joked with him that i smelled something burning. predictably, that went up in flames.

so last week i was listening to a podcast of a dharma talk that was resonating with me. so much so that i listened to it again today. and then i realized the title. i swear i'm not making this up.

'practice like your hair is on fire.'

waves

2009-08-08T12:00:00.000-07:00

when i was in sixth grade, i began to get concerned about garbage. this was 1976. i was very proud of a pad of recycled notepaper i purchased with babysitting money.

here it is, 30 years later (can that be possible?), and i'm still a little obsessed about garbage. what's going to happen if we continue producing it, and stuffing it into our mother, pretending it disappears there?

having grown up in the church, it is a particular mystery to me why so many fundamental believers are also global deniers. it's a paradox. i have thought on it alot and my conclusion is that christians are taught that they are separate from the world. above it even. an oft-quoted scripture is 'be not conformed to this world.' we're preached at to 'be in the world, not of the world.' we learn early on that worldly is just another word for sinful. too much concern for the earth equates to idolatry. but how is that logical, since god created the earth? how does one honor god by discounting the health of his creation?

alan watts, who was way ahead of his time, got it right in a talk he gave in 1967 called 'what is reality?' in it, he clarifies the relationship of humans and our planet. we exist only in relationship with eachother. 'people say, i came into this world. no you didn't, you came out of it.' he likens the earth to an apple tree that 'apples,' using apple as a verb. and just as an apple tree apples, the earth peoples.

but our consciousness has been influenced so that each one of us does not feel that. we have been literally hypnotized by social convention into feeling and sensing that we exist only inside our skins. if you go along with this theory of the world, you feel alienated. you feel hostile. you feel that the world is a trap. and that is our basic plausible common sense. you are a fluke. you are a seperate event.

they say that in the beginning of things there was a big bang. and you and i, sitting here in this room as complicated human beings, are way way out on the fringe of that bang. we're the complicated little patterns on the end of it. so we define ourselves as being only that. little curly-cues way out in space, way out in time. billions of years ago you were a big bang. but now you're a complicated human being. and then we cut ourselves off, and feel that we're not the big bang. but you are. you're not something that is a result of the big bang, you're not something that is a sort of puppet on the end of the process, you are still the process. you are the big bang, the original force of the universe, coming on, as whoever you are. when i meet you, i see not just what you define yourself as, mr. so and so, i see everyone of you as the primordial universe coming on at me in this particular way. i know i'm that too. but we've learned to define ourselves as seperate from it.

and so, a basic problem we've got to go through first is to understand that there are no such things as things. that is to say seperate things, or seperate events. that is only a way of talking. a noun isn't a part of nature, it's a part of speech. only when humans get involved in things, they make buildings in straight lines and try and make out that world isn't really wiggly. but here, each one of us is as wiggly as all get out.

you and i are as much continuous with the physical universe, as a wave is continuous with the ocean. the ocean waves. and the universe peoples. and as the wave, i wave at you and say yoohoo. the world is waving at me, with you, and saying, hi, i'm here.

if there is any such thing at all as intelligence, and love, and beauty, well, you found it in other people. in other words it exists in us as human beings. and if it is there, it is symptomatic of the scheme of things.

we are as symptomatic of the scheme of things, as the apple is of the apple tree. the earth is not a big rock infested with living organisms, any more than your skeleton is bones infested with cells. the earth is geological yes, but this geological entitity grows people. and our existence on the earth is a symptom of the solar system and its balances.

and so, what i'm doing at the moment, is not completely described, unless your being here is described also. so if that is necessary, if in order to describe my behavior, i have to describe your behavior, and the behavior of the environment, it means that we've really got one system of behavior. that what i am, involves what you are.

any good scientist knows that what you call the external world, is as much you as your own body. your skin doesn't separate you from the world, it's a bridge from which the external world flows into you. and you flow into it.

for example, as a whirlpool in water. the whirlpool is a definite form, but no water stays put in it. the whirlpool is something the stream is doing. and exactly the same way, the universe is doing each one of us. you're the same whirlpool you were yesterday, but you're moving. the whole world is moving through you, all the cosmic rays, all the food you're eating, the stream of steaks and milk and eggs and everything is just flowing right through you, and you're wiggling the same way the world is wiggling, the stream is wiggling you. but the problem is, we haven't been taught to feel that way. the myths underlying our culture and underlying our common sense have not taught us to feel identical with the universe. but only parts of it, only in it, only confronting it, aliens. and we are, i think, quite urgently in need of coming to feel that we are the eternal universe, each one of us. otherwise we're going to go out of our heads. we're going to commit suicide, collectively, courtesy of h-bombs.

she had the wrong thing ...

2009-07-31T12:49:00.000-07:00

i have the pleasure of working on some clients for a few weeks while their regular therapist (and my dear friend) is away in france. they are a married couple in their 80's, who receive weekly massage in their home. it's been delightful working with tom and joanne. they remind me much of my paternal grandparents, both of whom passed away within the past three years. like my grandparents', their kitchen counter is neatly stacked with every supplement known to mankind.

i arrive for their appointment at 10 a.m. and it's already 80 degreees outside. they have the heater on, and joanne has a sweater draped over her shoulders. tom's walk is more of a shuffle, because of poor circulation in his legs. but there is a twinkle in his eyes and he still has strong hands, it's easy to imagine them young.

i work on tom first, while joanne sits on the couch and chats with me. she will sometimes ask if i want the light off, and when i say it doesn't matter she'll get up to turn it off and then move to the rocking chair. within a few minutes she'll ask me if i need the light on, and turn it back on. when i work on tom's legs, he always says, 'that sure feels good.' he cracks a few jokes, and makes joanne and i giggle.

after an hour it's joanne's turn. she is somewhat frail, and a little bent over with osteoporosis. she receives kidney dialysis several times a week and her arms are always bandaged up from the needles. because of all that, i work on her side-lying, first one side, then the other. she only wants her back worked on. she removes her blouse, but not her bra, and she's a tiny little thing to begin with, so i have what seems like about the size of a postage stamp area of her back to massage, 30 minutes on one side, turn over, 30 minutes on the other side. she says 'that sure is soothing.' she always holds a tissue in her hand and occasionally dabs daintily at the corners of her mouth while i'm working on her.

tom walks into the bedroom, leaving the door open. she asks him to please close it, and says it's a mess in there. (it isn't, and he doesn't.) she tells me that he's the tidy one, and also the cook. 'that's a keeper,' i say, 'better hang on to him.' she agrees. he finishes whatever he's doing in the bedroom and as he's coming out she aks him again to close the door. he closes it behind him with a flourish, leans over her on the table and says, 'there, happy now? melissa already knows you're a bad housekeeper,' and shuffles away before she can give him a swat. she laughs.

one week when i arrive they are quite upset about having misplaced their address book. all during tom's session, joanne talks about it and gets up a few times to hunt for it. 'well now usually you keep it on your desk, did you look on your desk?' she asks him. he sorta grunts back that he did. she repeats this question a few times, and each time he answers affirmatively, without impatience.

when it's her turn on the table he goes into the bedroom to look. she tells me that usually he keeps it on his desk. 'i just can't imagine where it went,' and 'there's no reason it should have been moved from that desk.' she says she hopes next week when i come they will have things more organized.

tom comes back into the living room and asks her, 'did you find that red address book?'
'no,' she says, 'you usually keep it on your desk, did you look on your desk?'

when i arrived the following week, i had to ask, 'did you find your address book?'
'yes,' said joanne.
'where was it?'
'on the desk.'

but now there was a new crisis. tom's cell phone rang while i was there, but he didn't get to it in time to answer.

tom is on the table trying to enjoy his massage.
joanne: 'well i wonder who that was. maybe it was steve.' (steve is their son.)
tom: 'if it was, he'll call back. he's at work.'
joanne: 'well maybe he went for a walk.'
tom (waving his hand dismissively): 'oh, he didn't go for a walk.'
joanne: ' that was probably steve that called.'
tom: 'you could call him and see.'
joanne: 'well .... i'll let you do that. i'm not sure how to work that phone.'
tom: 'you should know how to use the cell phone, in case you ever need to use it.'
joanne: 'well i guess that's right.'

she picks up the phone and studies it, turning it over, opening it, looking at the buttons. 'well what do i do? just dial the number?'
'yes, it's ### ...'
'i know what the number is.' (she rattles it off.)
tom: 'and then press send.'

i'm watching as she tries this twice, without success. frustrated, she puts the phone down and says 'oh, i'm hopeless, i'll just let you do it.'

tom: 'well you should know how to use the cell phone in case you ever need to.'
joanne: 'well i guess that's right.'

she valliantly tries again.

'do i push power?'
'no! as soon as you open it it's on, just dial the number and push send!'
she recites the number as she dials it. 'send ...' she says, as she searches for the send button.
tom (getting a little exasperated): 'it's right there on the left.'

she starts to laugh at herself because she can't find it. at this point i look over from working on him, and see that she's got the remote control to the television in her hand, looking for the 'send' key.

tom's eyes are closed. not wanting to give her away, i s-t-r-e-t-c-h over as far as i can while keeping one hand on tom, and push the cell phone which is lying on the table, towards her. she sees, immediately realizes what's happened, and starts laughing out loud ... 'oh, i had the wrong thing!'

that's it?

2009-05-04T15:32:00.000-07:00

that's what he was protecting all this time? that's what he referred to as 'all i've built up?' hm. i imagined something more.

it was a series of uncalculated events and wrong turns that led me there. (not unlike what led me to him in the first place.) driving home from a getaway, i missed my exit. my mom taught me that if you miss your turn, it's better to keep going than to turn back, there will always be another way to get where you're going. so i kept going, ok, yes, 780, that will get me headed back toward ... wait .. that sign .. it had the name of his city on it. i always wondered. four years is a long time to be with someone without seeing where he lives. what the hell .. i have time. there's a line in 'blue like jazz,' that says 'i never liked jazz music, because it doesn't resolve.' great line. i can relate. i could never let go as easily as he could. we're over, but unresolved. maybe if i see the neighborhood, really feel him there, some of the blank spots will fill in. the way water rushes into an empty dish when it sinks, and then touches bottom.

never having been to this city, and not knowing his address, i'm not quite sure what i'm doing, except i think i might remember a street name. from a hotel receipt. (that i paid for, groan.) i'm off on the spelling of the street, but google maps and blackberry set me straight, and lead the way .. i'm literally two turns away.

so this is his neighborhood. there's the bbq place he used to stop at when we'd be on the phone. one final turn. deep breath. i'm on his actual street. this is where his life happens. every time he left, this is where he went.

he said that if it ended, he wouldn't cry that it was over, but smile that it happened. i hated when he said that. he was a little too prepared for the end. he said to box up the memories, and stash them away. like he did with me. he likes to keep things, and people, barely breathing. unresolved, as it were. suspended until it suits him. he was happy to collect memories, but i never wanted that. i already had enough memories. i wanted a future.

he actually said something about contacting me in three years. three years?? i suppose those would be dog years.

i said to him that not trying to hurt someone isn't the same as trying not to hurt someone. i said to him that i'd rather be hurt by the truth than hurt by deceit. i said to him that a triangle is not a friendly shape, it has sharp edges, and it hurts people. he thought i had insightful, clever things to say. 'i'm logging that one,' he'd say. and then he hurt me anyway. because he wasn't trying not to.

it wasn't even a triangle, it was more like a pentagon.

i turn onto his street. within seconds, i see someone walking, it's his hair, shit! there's no pretending i'm not there, on his street. he looks directly into my eyes .... it's not him. but it could have been. i gotta get off this street. looking for escape, i pass a few more houses and i feel something in my gut. something familiar, but not, if you know what i mean. i realize i'm actually looking at his car, parked in front of his house. there's the border collie i know only through stories, sitting on the porch, looking curiously at me, chewing on something. the front door is wide open, and i can see the top of his couch peeking above the bottom of the window. he sleeps there when he's having a bad night. another window, to the left, and behind the dog, is obscured by a white shade, slightly askew. i guess i hoped it would be more dramatic than that, hoped i could feel a spirit of place, and think, ohhhhh, well now it all makes sense. but he lives in a house, to quote a girlfriend, that looks like nobody cares.

he liked to be dramatic with words, like when he referred to me (or one of the other pentagon points) as a 'clear and present danger.' so when he said that 'the castle is under siege,' i pictured something .. a little more ... castle-like. and i thought him, a little more ... prince-like. but now that i'm seeing them both more clearly .. all i can think is ...

that's it? i imagined something more.

i hope mom's right. (pause the player at right before playing the video)

if you don't know
just how you feel
don't say those sweet things that you know i'd wanna hear
if you don't know
just what to think
then put your thoughts away
and keep them out of reach

haley don't hurt me
if you don't know
i could have moved on
a long time ago
you're undecided
your eyes do show
haley don't hurt me
if you don't know

if you don't know
just where we are
then slowly step away before we get too far
if you don't know
just where to stand
don't brace a fall that you may never wanna land

we're on and off again
it's more than i can stand
just let me know if you're for real
this time
your voice it shook again
reminded me of when
we talked away until the end

butterflies

2009-02-28T20:36:00.000-08:00

this time a writing assignment from my son ... he had to write about a 'first.'

Ever since I can remember my simple little mind thought about girls. Even though I didn’t know it, I was clever about my feelings. They were incognito. I sided with my friends, laughing and cheering with them as we ran around like animals at recess taunting and running away from any girl within a twenty foot radius. But as the years flew by, the universal disease known as cooties had finally been eradicated.

I learned early that feelings are more or less problems. Sure, it’s great to be able to love as a human being. But no matter how hard you try to stop the feelings, for whatever reason, you’re going to end up getting hurt or punished for them. Now a days, it could be messing up a friendship, grades, or even a reputation. It’s God’s punishment for your sins. I get it now that even if you’re not the person to have those feelings, it can still be your problem.

I miss how it used to be. Girls back in the fourth grade were a huge deal for us boys. It was like waking up from a dream and realizing, well, this is reality. But our young minds were still innocent and still lacking our high school thoughts. It is the biggest secret to hold for some of us still. But my game spitting career started that year, and kissing was the thing to do. Mommy and Daddy do, don’t they? I’ve always been more on the sensitive side, so when Callie and I were at the end of the cul-de-sac all alone, well it was the first time butterflies had a different meaning to me. All I remember was my scrawny little arms resting at my sides, leaning in as far as my back would let me till for a half second my tightly shut lips kind of brushed up against hers. And to my surprise, my little elementary school mind was only a little bit disgusted.

demons

2008-12-21T20:19:00.000-08:00

my brother inherited dad's musical talent, all of it - i got none. but i did gain an appreciation for good music. i have a particular fondness for acoustic guitar, and credit my dad for that. if you spend any amount of time in my dad's house, you will hear him playing guitar. that's how he used to kill time while waiting for my mom to finish getting ready to go to church, or out to dinner.. whatever. i only lived in my dad's house for a few years, but i have many memories of sitting, quite literally, at his knee, watching him pick out a particularly tricky piece. it is the soundtrack of my life, acoustic guitar. whenever i hear it, i feel inexplicably .. at home.

the other day i heard my son strumming on his guitar, picking out one of his favorite tunes, killing time before his hockey game .. and i smiled. he couldn't know how or why that sound, coming from him, made me feel i've come full circle. and how it made me feel a little less disappointed that i can't play an instrument to save my life.

i'm not close with my dad. but i appreciate what he handed down to me. the things that make me feel safest. music. mountains. thanks dad. i love you joey.
(pause the playlist on the right before playing the video below.)

My words confuse you
My eyes don’t move a blink
Cause it’s easier sometimes
Not to be sincere
Somehow I make you believe
Believe

When I speak I cross my fingers
Will you know you’ve been deceived?
I find a need to be the demon
A demon cannot be hurt
Honest is easy
Fiction is where genius lies
Cause it’s easier sometimes
Not to be involved
Somehow I make you believe
Believe

gherkin, anyone?

2008-09-17T19:02:00.000-07:00

my daughter's first assignment in her college english class ...

“What the hell is gherkin?!” I scream towards the wait staff and cooks, wiping the sweat off my forehead with my tuxedo sleeve. In a state of utter confusion and panic I hang the order for two turkey burgers with French fries and “no gherkin.” The English couple with the thick accents sitting at table 23 had made it clear they did not want gherkin on their meals, and after a long and hectic morning I really am not in the mood for this. I reluctantly hang the ticket and write their request, hoping the kitchen knows, and is able to make the gherkin-less burgers.

Sure enough as soon as the cooks see the ticket their dark eyebrows wrinkle and they ask me, “Que es esto?” I explain to them in Spanish that that’s what the table requested, and ask if they are familiar with the food. The guys shake their heads so I just decide to wing it and hope our restaurant doesn’t even HAVE gherkin, so that there is no possible way that the young English folk can complain about the appearance of gherkin.

Had it been the beginning of my day, I most likely would have just asked the customers what it was that they were talking about, but given the morning I’d had, I just was not in the mood. (I’m pretty convinced that working directly with customers in the food-service industry is somewhere in the first circle of hell.)

Eight A.M., I arrive half-awake and as ready as I’d ever be. The morning starts off slow, as usual, and begins to pick up around 8:45, and then it starts; the chaos that is routine at the Cup & Saucer. The phone rang and Kelli, the cute red headed hostess and also my best friend, answers, “Cup & Saucer, How can I help you? (Pause) And for how many? (Pause) For Mike? Ok no problem, see you then.” Kelli turns to me as I go to grab extra napkins for a table of mine,
“Do you want to take a party of eight at ten?”
“Uhh…sure...” I say, having no way of knowing what's ahead of me.
“Ok we’ll put them on 25 and 26 when they get here,” she says.

I continue my usual duties, taking orders, walking food, clearing tables, with the typical bizarre customer requests.
“I need a side of mayonnaise with my oatmeal.” Yuck. Oatmeal and mayonnaise?!
“Of course” is my reply with a smile “SIDE OF MAYO PLEASE!”
“My eggs need to be perfect! Over medium... they can NOT be over cooked.” I think my brain is overcooked.
“Of course,” I reply with a smile “TWO OVER MEDIUM PLEASE!”
“Take the meatloaf off of my bill, it was disgusting.”
“Ma’am you ate it all.”
“It was disgusting. Take it off the bill.”
“Of course,” is my reply with a smile. BITCH SLAP PLEASE!

Table 20 left, I begin clearing the plates only to pick up napkins that I now realize were used to blow someone’s nose on. Please don’t leave your pile of snotty napkins on the table. Do you really want me serving your food next week with the cold you gave me this morning?

Then in walks a jolly grey haired man, a little heavy set and with the shiniest cheeks I’ve ever seen, “Hi we have a reservation for Mike for 10 o’clock.”
“Oh ok no problem,” Kelli is away from the front so I direct Santa toward the table we set for him. Mike sits himself down and is joined by five others. That makes six people. I thought the reservation was for eight. Confused, I find my best friend and ask for clarification. She reaffirms, it was supposed to be for eight people. Kelli heads toward the table to ask the man if they’re expecting two more. Just as he replies, “No… there are only six of us,” a tall, slender man with glasses approaches me at the front,
“Hi we have a reservation for Mike, for eight.” Are you kidding? Apparently there are two Mikes, and Santa-Claus-Mike and his family were sitting at the table for really-tall-Mike and his church group.
“Okay there seems to have been some identity theft,” I nervously joke, “but no big deal we’ll set a table for you right now,” I quickly assure really-tall-Mike, in response to his puzzled expression. “Busboy!”

Soon after we get the Mikes seated at their designated tables, the madness continues. I take an order from a lady who asks for a regular cheeseburger with an extra side of pickles. No problem. The order comes up and the cooks tell me “86 pickles”. (That does not mean they’re giving me a side of 86 pickles - in diner-speak, the term ‘86’ means we’re out of that item.) I return to the elderly lady and set her burger down, and before I can get a word out she demands her side of pickles. I explain that we are oddly out of them. She looks at me and says “Well I can’t eat this then.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t want this burger if I cannot have pickles.” I think I stood in shock for a second. Really? Pickles? She goes on to say how she is on some trip and hasn’t had a burger in eight years and absolutely had to eat it with pickles. I ask if she wants to keep the burger and add her precious must-have pickles to it at home, but apparently it would not stand for the drive home. Ha! My manager overhears and convinces her to order something else instead and she agrees to keep the burger and take it home, but demands it be taken off the bill. I had no choice but to take the pickle-less burger off of her bill.

Following the pickle-incident, an old man appears on the patio in an out of control motor scooter, knocking into heat lamps, dragging tables and chairs behind him swerving and screeching through the outdoor shopping center. Not long after that a lady comes in, laughing and simultaneously on the verge of tears. Apparently she’d been sitting outside on the patio, when a small bird flew into the window next to her, and landed smack dab on top of her eggs benedict. Her waitress (luckily it was not my table) took her plate and brought it to the back as we all stared in shock at the tiny twitching bird in hollandaise sauce, garnishing a poached egg. Poor bird.

Needless to say by this point I am exhausted by trying to please the particularly picky batch of customers on this Saturday morning. So ... here I am in the kitchen wondering what in the world is gherkin? “Kelli, “ I called her over, “do you know what gherkin is?”
“What?” she looked as confused as I was, which I took to be a good thing.
“Gherkin. Table 23 asked for no gherkin on their turkey burgers and I just stood there and nodded!” she cracked a smile and I too then began to smirk,
“You didn’t just ask them what it was?” She made it sound so simple.
“Well,” I giggled, “no…” and right then we both find the whole situation hilarious. We start laughing uncontrollably, so hard my eyes are watering. Looking out of the two-way mirrors we see the English couple turn our way and duck down for fear that they can see us, which only causes us to laugh harder. Slowly we regain our composure and I hear a “Kayla, please!” call from the window, which means my food is up. I stare at the two burgers and fries, and with my best smile, bring out the plates to the English couple at table 23. They thank me and I walk away from their table, leaving them to eat in peace. I guess there was no gherkin. Thank goodness.

Two o’clock rolls around and I finish my work day with a sigh of relief, but one thing was left unfinished. I get home and open my Webster’s Dictionary to the letter “G” and find:

Gherkin, n. (gûrkn) a small cucumber, commonly used for pickling. A small pickle.

me - 4yrs. ??

2008-08-19T18:55:00.000-07:00

gwo 2008

2008-08-15T17:46:00.000-07:00

not only was 'cardboard donna' alive and well at girls weekend .. she was the most popular woman there. she was cavity searched at the airport, managed an invitation into the cockpit, came shopping with us, sat with us at every meal, and had her picture taken with everyone she met.

next year we'll do it all again exactly the same, with 'actual donna.'

and she was right .. if you fall apart in a crisis, there really wasn't much of you to begin with. we did good.

squeal & wiggle

2008-07-09T15:55:00.000-07:00

email exchange:

me: i scrambled around getting all the goodies together to ship to our fallen comrade, and none of my boxes seemed the right size so i figured i'd just package it up at the mailing center.

so the woman is helping me get everything in there and says ...

'she must be a very special woman.'

could you just die????

totaB: did you cry? [...] it will be strange to not see her get out of the car and hug me like she never wants to let go. so, [totaL], your first task is to do that. Oh, and you've got to squeal, "HIIIII BEEEEEE!" and as you hug me you've got to wiggle a little, practice with [totitaC].

me: i did cry. and hey .. anyone who wants to can do that squeal and wiggle thing to me too.

trooper

2008-07-04T13:31:00.000-07:00

she's a trooper. but we knew that.

after i got 'the call' about my cousin .. ended up spending christmas at her funeral. got home, and what was at my doorstep? her christmas gift. she had mailed it right before the accident. something in it for everyone. for me some tea .. which i still have. i brew it only for worthy events.

so what arrives on my doorstep today??? a gift for my daughter's graduation .. from two of my totas. a handmade card from the (pre)injured, and a plaque with words of wisdom from my other favorite tota.

she knew immediately the significance. that's my girl. god i love you guys. you're the PEST.

the call

2008-07-01T13:26:00.000-07:00

you get that call. you all know it. you've all gotten one.

me: hello?
her: where are you?
me: i'm at home
her: did you get laura's email?
me: no
her: it's about donna
me: (starting to panic) what?
her: she had an accident this morning ...

jump ahead .. she's going to be ok. but again this is one of those things that makes me absolutely certain that not all things happen for a reason. maybe some things do. and maybe you can find something good even in something bad, if you try. but some things are just BAD.

this is bad.

besides the obvious bad-ness of her having the accident, now she has to miss girls weekend, and we have to have it without her. i have never had girls weekend without her.

so if i'm *trying* to find something good in this .. i guess all i can come up with is that it's a reminder of just how tenuous life is, and how important it is to savor every moment with the people you love.

but i knew that already. from the other calls.

RIP tim russert

2008-06-18T01:01:00.000-07:00

i am so sad about the passing of tim russert. i watched all the tributes and stories from his colleagues and family .. what a stellar guy.

it's hard to see a stellar guy leave this earth. it reminds me alot of when my step-dad tom died so suddenly .. also heart disease, and also a stellar guy, loved by so many. and like my cousin, a saint of a mother and wife, taken at such a young age with her two sons in a terrible car accident on the way to look at christmas lights.

i have to believe that these events are random, and that there is no meaning to these tragedies. i just don't buy the 'it happened for a reason' bullshit. nope.

going smoke alarm

2008-06-10T23:33:00.000-07:00

so get this ...

about a week ago my smoke alarm starts chirping to indicate a low battery. there is a smoke alarm in my bedroom, and one in the living room and i canNOT figure out which one it is .. it seems to be coming from whichever one i am NOT standing under. so joey and i brilliantly decide, let's just take the batteries out of BOTH of them for now.

well i have these vaulted ceilings, and since i don't have a ladder .. joey (who is several inches taller than i am) stands on a step stool on top of a barstool while i stand beside him prepared to catch him (right) if need be. (hey, you cannot imagine how annoying this chirping noise is after a few days, you'd put your only son in peril too, and don't say you wouldn't because YOU WOULD.) this gives him barely enough height for his fingertips to push open the battery compartment and flick the battery out (which i did not catch). whereupon we continue to hear chirping ... wha??? maybe we're just hearing things ... so we execute the same ordeal for the smoke alarm in my room ... AND STILL HEAR CHIRPING!!! DAMMIT WHERE IS THAT COMING FROM???? so it turns out ...

a: the alarms chirp to indicate a low OR MISSING battery
b: the alarm that was initially chirping was IN JOEY'S ROOM
c: now i have THREE CHIRPING SMOKE ALARMS, once a minute each, which averages to ONCE EVERY 20 SECONDS and one of them is IN MY BEDROOM. neither joey nor i are tall enough to actually put a battery back in even on top of the stool on top of the stool. it's been almost a week since the first one started chirping.

swami-in-training that i am, i've decided to imagine that i'm on vacation. i'm backpacking and there are stars out and i'm laying onthe ground in front of my tent after a day of hiking and a meal prepared on my hiker's stove and the crickets are singing me to sleep. ahhhhhh. so peaceful.

at least that's what i'm telling the kids.

p.s. i think the phrase 'going smoke-alarm' should replace 'going postal.'

she did it

2008-06-09T01:22:00.000-07:00

congratulations, my sweet, i am so proud of you.

a day in the life

2007-11-07T23:02:00.000-08:00

so i read a piece that was circulating on the internet, a column written by a mom recounting her day of mothering while working. i forwarded it on to my sister-in-law, who responded by writing about her own day as a stay at home mom, and suggested i do the same.

and thanks to my sister in law, i have a new mantra .. who knew it could be so useful???

'i pretend i don't care.' i love this. i adopt it immediately.

6:15 a.m. alarm goes off (shouldn't it 'go ON?') and i hear a commercial for aamco 'you're driving along and your check engine light comes on. what do you do?' i shoot up, wide awake, yes, Yes YES!! what DO i do??? according to this commercial, i take it to aamco for a free diagnostic. hmm. i think about this while i light the morning sage, shower and nag the children to do same. heat water for tea.

6:30 out of shower. i notice the children have not moved. also observed, towels and various articles of clothing scattered about. note to self: shout appropriately to responsible parties when time permits. report the current time to sleeping children .. ACTUAL UP! make a couple of breakfast burritos for the now stirring children. pour now lukewarm water over tea leaves. return to bedroom to finish getting ready.

7:00 note with irritation worsening condition of bathroom and 18 year old's bedroom. breathe.

7:15 move clothes from washer to dryer, toss a new load in washer. gulp down ice tea. pour a little down front of shirt .. there. perfect.

7:20 dressed and ready. collect backpack, fill stainless steel water bottle (in my ever increasing determination to remove plastic from my life), change out the little resusable vinyl 'sticker' words on the bottle today to 'power' and 'wisdom' .. presentation today and all. interrogate 14 year old regarding location of ID badge, cell phone, lunch money and report due today. all items are located and placed in appropriate backpack.

7:40 i move car to guest parking so that i can drive the truck until i can get the car issue sorted out. key in ignition ... no joy. not even click click click. appears i again have a dead battery. i have a dejavu remembering the last time i needed the truck and the battery was dead. (said truck was needed to pick up my new dresser, which upon claiming, was promptly treated to a wash 'n wax at the drive thru car wash because i forgot(?) i had just loaded a large, newly constructed piece of furniture into the back of my pick-up). oy. fortunately i have no large pieces of furniture to pick up at this time.

7:45 get back in the car. i hope that check engine light doesn't mean anything serious. start car .... no check engine light!!! the gods are smiling on me.

8:00 clunk! check engine light glows menacingly. fuck. i pretend i don't care.

8:10 deliver boy child to school .. pray i'm not late to school.

8:44 arrive at school with one minute to spare.

10:30 i am called to give my practice presentation.. applause applause applause .. maybe those water words worked but anyhow i'm just thankful it's over until next monday.

12:45 school out ... pray to the east and whomever is listening that i can complete my errands and retrieve son from school with that damn light staring at me.

3:30 early dinner for resident hockey player so he will be properly energized for 5:15 practice. saute chicken breast, top with smoked mozzerella and a ladle of marinara, in oven for ten minutes while pasta reheats ..

4:30 dinner consumed and dishes done. next task, jump truck and take son to hockey practice. where the hell are my jumper cables?

4:45 i call the 14 year old to come participate in the jumping activity .. he should know how to do this. he reluctantly attends the lesson. groan.

4:55 at this point 14 year old has decided this is a fun activity, regardless of the fact that the truck is not in fact actually starting. i inform him that no matter how fun it is, we're leaving in five minutes in the car because he is NOT missing hockey practice. neighbor inquires about situation. disappears to get battery charger.

5:00 inform 14 year old he will be missing hockey practice.

5:02 neighbor (who speaks very little english) returns with charger.

5:15 charger not producing desired results. muchos gracias anyway.

6:00 enter my next volley in e-debate with mother about global warming. and i may have a solution to the border issue. not with regard to illegal aliens .. i need pretty borders on my slides for the actual presentation. (you know how i am.) i feel it's important.

7:00-11:00 all the usual chores.

7:45am the next morning ... i try to sneak up on car .. maybe if i'm vewy vewy qwiet it won't notice that i'm driving it. this works for a few miles. again with the light. no school for me today so i will attempt to sort this out.

8:10 drop child off at school, call aamco. nice man says to bring it in.

8:15 do as many chores as possible on my way to aamco since i may not have a car for a few days.

9:30 nice man at aamco (who has two different color eyes) dispatches a workerbee (who also speaks very little english) to accompany me home with battery charger (which looks much more respectable than my neighbor's did) to verify it is indeed the battery.

9:40 hook up the charger ... voila!!! i do the dance of joy and have to restrain myself from jumping my spanish speaking savior. (a jump for a jump?) he explains in broken english that vehicles don't like to sit unattended (this truck has been driven maybe 5 times in two years).. i try to make a joke ... si, they don't like to be ignored, just like women. he doesn't get it. who cares (i really don't), it's running. he leaves the charger with me so it can work it's magic on my truck battery and drives my car back to aamco.

10:20 i hesitantly disconnect charger, shut off the engine and magically it restarts!! neighbor comes out and sees that it's running. i thank him again for trying to help and he agrees with the other guy that engines don't like to sit. i attempt my feeble joke again, i don't know why. i can see his brain slow down a few seconds to translate what i've said into his native language .. and then ... he laughs!! hard! he doubles over with laughter even. we lock eyes. he says, "i no say, *you* say, i no say that .. hahahaha!!!" we have bonded instantly. he tells me his name is pedro. he takes my hand, still laughing, and kisses it. maybe he'll stop stealing my newspapers now.

10:30 i pat my purring truck and promise that i will drive her at least once a month and will never ignore her again. i drive truck to return charger to nice man with two different color eyes at aamco. i drive truck through car wash (this time sans furniture).

noon. continue working on border issue. new desktop doesn't have the right program. no problem. i love my wireless network. i'll just share the file and go do it from the old desktop which now resides in son's room. cannot open file, not compatible. GRRRRRR. I HATE MY WIRELESS NETWORK! whatEVER!! i don't need no fucking borders.

12:30 drive truck down the street to grocery outlet to buy some cheap wine. every checkstand 4 customers deep and they all look to be shopping for the next Y2K. i pretend i don't care.

12:45 checker eyes label on one of the wine bottles, looks up and grins ... 'three girls???' we giggle. at this point i realize i have forgotten my reusable bags and watch with shame as checker puts my wine in plastic bags. i can't pretend i don't care about this.. i have purchased enough reusable bags for myself and all my girlfriends to easily bag up every bottle of wine in this entire store.. i canNOT be seen with these plastic bags .. did i mention grocery outlet uses the brightest neon yellow plastic bags i have ever seen in my entire life? i slink out.

12:50 stop at starbucks on the way home .. after all i didn't even have cold tea this morning. i spy the cd that i have held in my hand twice in the last two weeks and resisted purchasing. i have waited for the release of this cd for months. i justify purchase some way or another, i forget how exactly, take my latte and go.

1:00 arrive home, place cd in player, push play. ahhhhhhhh. why didn't i get this sooner???? god this is great. i think he-who-must- not-be-named would like this. i fantasize about listening to it with him. speaking of which ...

1:44 respond curtly to his last email. i pretend not to care. (i doubt he will fall for it .. fucker.)

3:00 call 18 year old to ask if she can bring me to the aamco so i can pick up the car before they close at 5. she has just arrived at togo's and needs to meet with her dad and others at 4:00 to go to shark's game. that's fine i say, all i need is for you to drop me off at the shop so i can drive the car home. i'll call you after i'm done eating, she says.

4:00 tap, tap, tap. ring daughter .. uh .. hello? i was waiting for you to call me back. oh, well i had to blah blah blah blah blah and i don't have time now. breathe. i don't care ... ask me .. i don't!!! whatEVER!! i'll just tell them i can't get it tonight .. can you take me tomorrow afternoon? fine. see you tomorrow then. and thanks for getting back to me that was really responsible and thoughtful of you.

4:01 - 8:00 general maintenance which includes taking out the trash which is 14 year old's job but since he won't be home til later i'll do it this time. hmm ... didn't i wind up doing it last time? i pretend i don't care.

7, 7:30 and 8 .. text children to find out if/when ex (actually i don't call him my ex anymore i call him my y .. as in why? which means that now i have an x AND a y ... oy .. algebra for dummies .. but i digress) is going to bring son home from sharks game. the repeated response: 'i dunno.'

8:15 pour a glass of three girls and appreciate the fact that i have a second vehicle so that i can take 14 year old and self to school tomorrow even though car still sits at shop. smile .. it's all good.

9:30 start truck just to see if it still starts. it does. smile. lucky me.

10:30 son arrives home .. relates highlights of game. off to bed.

7:40a the next morning. hand keys to 14 year old, go start the truck, it will need to warm up. (you can see this coming, can't you?) he returns with the words, you're not going to school today, and neither am i. the truck won't start.

of course if daughter had managed the 20 minutes to take me to the car yesterday i would be able to take the newly repaired car. i pretend i don't care.

i inform son that neither of us will be missing school today .. we will merely be late. i make a few phonecalls including one in which i lie to attendance office to prevent an unexcused tardy, joey isn't feeling well but he might be in a little later.

8:30 son and i begin the trek to aamco on foot. i endure a barrage of 'how far IS it's and 'it's freezing's and 'why couldn't we just stay home's and i pretend i don't care. good god you'd think i were asking him to compete in an iron man event.

9:20 arrive at aamco. relinquish $328 for repairs to car. relay information about truck .. nice man with two different colored eyes says he will dispatch spanish speaking workerbee to collect truck so i won't have to pay tow charges and call me when he knows what the problem is.

9:45 drive son to school and accompany him to attendance office to further perpetrate lie and aquire late pass.

10:00 i justify another visit to starbucks. but no cd this time.

10:10 drive myself to school .. without any books or supplies because i did not want to carry all that on the walk to aamco. i figure if i show up at all today i've done my duty.

10:45 arrive at school where dearest friend has diligently taken notes for me in my absence. it's all i can do not to weep.

12:45 school out. go home, check mailbox, bring trash cans in .. wait .. somebody brought my cans in. i think it must have been pedro. i think he might be in love with me.

1:45 daughter calls, was i planning on going to the store today? no. because i need a cake mix. right. she needs a cake mix because it's her friend's birthday tomorrow and for THAT she will stay up half the night baking a cake after she gets home from work. well .. if i get the mix. alright .. i'll get it when i pick up joey from school.

2:11 text from joey "did you leave yet?" (he gets out at 2:24 today ... i have not in fact left yet) i text back "leaving now" i leave now.

pick up son, get cake mix, come home, wait for call about truck. that'll be another $200 and you can pick it up in the morning. not only do i pretend i don't care, i pretend this makes me happy.

it's 530pm and i am now baking a cake for my daughter's friend. won't her friend be surprised!

goat update

2005-10-05T10:31:00.000-07:00

riviting developments. the little gang of escaped goats have been terrorizing a very confused six point buck all day outside my window. It seems more little devil creatures have escaped and are feeling pret-ty cocky. If I didn’t have school I would probably just stay indoors. I'm pretty sure they're armed and look to be sporting keychains and red bandanas around their little heads ... is that bloods or crips? if you don't hear from me in a few days, send help.

goat on the loose

2005-10-04T10:27:00.000-07:00

So the other day I notice one of the cats behaving strangely - peering in fright through the fence around the deck, back arched. They're used to deer, coons, fox, possoms, turkeys, and the occasional loose canine, so I couldn't fathom what was out there. I investigate and discover a goat, who returns my gaze as if to say "What!?" Those darned goats. It seems they've been hired to mow the upper meadow. Apparently some of them are channeling Houdini and have decided to become free agents. Plus they're so cute. Who approved this anyway? Didn't anybody tell them that goats attract mountain lions? First the oligarchy spend ten grand on rocks (long story), then they pay money to feed somebody’s livestock. What next? Perhaps if we had invited the kids up earlier they would have cleaned their plates better, as they don't appear to like dead brown stuff (although they are enjoying my ground cover).

I did appreciate how the herd didn’t suffer that concentration camp look, like those along 101 & 85 last month. The little devil creatures also did a good job eating all the lower branches in the trees. Never seen a goat climb a tree before.

2002-07-08T00:31:00.000-07:00

so we went camping with friends over fourth of july.

Oh, and right before we left, I grabbed the bottle of bright red polish with which I had just painted my toenails, you know in case they needed touching up (while camping??). My throw rug is no longer large enough to place strategically over BOTH the spot-cleaned tracks of Cruiser, who likes to walk into our shower and lick the wet floor after he's come in from outside with dirt on his paws (only I forgot that I had added a touch of bleach to the spray bottle so now there are little ghost-tracks), AND the abstract design left by the polish when the top came off.

It looks a bit like those paintings kids make by squeezing paint into the machine that flings it around on a little card. I think this must have happened to someone else and that's how those things got invented, to make that person feel less stupid.

I swear it happened in slow motion. I watched the shiny little strands of Cherry Pie Creme dance around incircles in mid-air for what must have been half my lifetime while I tried in vain to, oh, i don't know, *catch* them or something, before they landed on the ghost-tracked carpet. Did I forget to mention that the carpet is ...*was* ... white? I keep trying to tell myself it's beautiful, in a bohemian sort of way. Red *is* one of my colors. And I have a little bit more if it needs touched up.

Plus it matches my toes.

brains and trays

2000-06-18T00:02:00.000-07:00

so once i skinned the doe, then came the matter of tanning her hide. the softest hides are brain-tanned. yep. brains. and here's an interesting fact i learned at tracker school. every animal has just enough brains to tan it's own hide. ideally i would have used her brain, but i just couldn't bring myself to do that. she was pregnant and all, it just seemed wrong to do what i would have to do to get her brain. well that and i was chicken.

thus the age old question .. where does one go to get some brains? i knew they were hard to come by .. but this was ridiculous...

Me (calling a local produce market with a mexican deli in the back): Is this the meat department?
Them: You'll have to hang up and call this number : 555-5555
Me: Okay, thank you, bye. (dial new number ...)
Them: Hello?
Me: Yes, I'm wondering if you can help me, do you ever have calves brains?
Them: kalksdkjnjkldlfjnaskfjenejk
Me: Um, is this the meat department?
Them: Yes.
Me: Yes, well, calves brains, ever sell them?
Them: k;ajfakjlkjfalkdfdklf
Me: DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?
Them: (in English!?) Oh, hold on a minute.
Someone else: Hello?
Me: I'm wondering if you sell calves brains?
Them: Oh, yes.
Me: Good! Do I need to special order them?
Them: Yes, you need to order them.
Me: Okay, well how long will it take?
Them: When do you want to come in?
Me: Uh ... well when can I get it?
Them: Oh anytime!
Me: Howbout 2:30 today?
Them: Okay, whenever you want.
Me: Do you need my name?
Them: No, just come anytime you want.
Me: Right, okay. (?)

***A few hours later, at 2:30, I walk in to the same deli****

Me: I called earlier, about getting some calves brains?
Them: Yes, what would you like?
Me: Well, er ... brains.
Them: Oh you have to order them.
Me: Yeah, well I thought that's what I was doing on the phone, but okay ... let's just say I'm ordering them right now .. when can I pick them up?
Them: (pointing to the menu on the wall) What do you want, carne asada, enchiladas, guacamole, what?
Me: No, I just want calves brains.
Them: But you have to tell us what you want, look at the menu. (hands me a take-out menu)
Me: Sigh. Are you saying they're on the menu?
Them: I don't know, what do you want?
Me: Do you understand what I'm asking you?

(during this exchange, the woman I spoke to on the phone periodically comes over, and then just walks away, then comes back saying something about ordering, or the menu, and walks away again).

After at least TEN MINUTES of this, the woman comes back over, listens to me and the other guy try to understand eachother, and finally says:

Her: I thought you said "tray."
Me: Ah. Well. So do you have calves brains?
Them: You want brains?
Both of them: (scewing up their faces like I've asked if they sell human spleens) No!
Me: Any idea who does?
Them: (shaking their heads decidedly and backing up a little) No, ..... no .... we ... don't ....
Me: Right. Okay, well gee, thank you. You were really helpful anyway.

Of course they had a big tray of stomach lining right under their noses, but calves brains ... eeeew, they don't have those.

I finally found a ranch where they butcher animals -
"Oh sure, I usually kill most of the animals on the weekends, we have lots of heads then."
Me: Okay well, I don't want the *container* ... just the brains.

When I got there he said he only had one head today, and carried it out by the horn, (it was a sheep), grabbed a chainsaw, and bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, then scooped out the squishy little grey mound with bare hands. He walked around the counter, through a swinging door and disappeared for a second - then came back with the brains still in one hand and a plastic bag in the other, "can you hold this open?"

And thus, I acquired some brains.

after thinking about it, it explains why some of us asked for brains, and got trays instead.

doe, a deer, a female deer

2000-05-15T00:15:00.000-07:00

I think it was Amy who told me she was reminded of Ruth Ann's intro to her skinning lecture when she read my post about the deer I found in my backyard. That was exactly what first came to my mind as well. For those of you who havn't heard Ruth Ann's skinning lecture from the standard class - she starts out telling how she came to skin her first deer. Briefly, while riding her bike she had found a deer that had been hit by a car, decided she should try out her skills from her standard class, rode her bike home, got in her car and drove back to the deer, hauled it up on her car, took it home, dug out her standard course notes, skinned it, butchered it and eventually wound up sharing the meat - never having touched an animal with a knife before. During this story I wondered what would go through my mind the next time I saw a dead deer, since that's not uncommon where I live. One of my thoughts was that I probably wouldn't be able to even get a deer up on my car by myself.

It was 3 weeks after my standard - and I had just posted about my "Standard Class Hangover." I was on the phone with my sister-in-law (my standard class was a birthday gift from her and my brother) when I opened the gate outside my bedroom deck to find a dead deer not ten feet from me. My first thought was, well, I don't have to worry about getting it up on my car. After agreeing that I couldn't waste the gift, sister-in-law asked if I wanted her to come over, at which point I attempted to sound unconcerned.. "if you want to."

Upon closer inspection, it appeared the doe was pregnant and had been in labor. This intimidated me even more. But I had some time, I was on my way out to do a job that would take about 3 hours and could contemplate during that time. Before I left, I burned some sage over her, and offered a blessing. I, like Ruth Ann, dug out my notes and tapes from the skinning lecture, and grabbed my walkman. Before I left I posted my plea for advice on the tracker group. Went off to my errand, put on my earphones and listened. The most valuable thing I heard was, "if you really want to do something, just take the first step, the animal will show you what to do next." When I returned I had an e-mail from a fellow tracker.

When I went back out to where she was and looked at her, I still wasn't convinced I could do it. I just kept telling myself to take the first step, which was moving her into my garage. Then I noticed that she had a small ring, about 3 inches wide, of pvc pipe stuck between her hoof and her dewclaw on one leg. It had been cutting into her and the wound was white with infection. That leg was also broken. It appeared that she broke it while climbing up the incline where she lay. There were deep sliding tracks right next to her, and her position was unnatural - she had clearly fallen rather than lain down. Had probably gone into premature labor (she did not appear term) as a result of either the fall or the infection, or both. I felt sick. I promised her that I would do my best to make her end be as natural as possible - man was already too involved in her death.

I got a rope and wound it around her back hooves and pulled - at this point still being a bit squeamish about touching her. That was only somewhat effective. I realized, if I was going to do this, I was going to have to really get involved with her. I took off the rope, put on some gloves because of the infection, and started pulling her. It worked much better than with the rope. I began to feel close to her.

Sister-in-law shows up while I'm getting her in the garage. The next step is hanging her up. After a phone call from a list member and more perusal of my notes (can you say "stalling?") I had to take the plunge. I felt nervous about making that first cut - in the legs to hang her. I kept chanting in my head "take the first step, she will show you ...". I made the first cut ... and much like Ruth Ann - felt like that wasn't so bad ... did the same in the other leg. Sister-in-law helped me get her tied up. So then there she was, ready to skin, hanging in my garage. Sister-in-law looks at me (she had brought along her 1 1/2 year old), says okay, I'm going to go put the little one down - you're all set - go ahead! Yikes!

It took me about two hours, and I made a few holes - but I did it.

I had wondered how to deal with the business of disposing of her - didn't know how animal control would feel about coming for a naked deer .. did i have a permit for that? Of course after the whole experience of her, I knew I couldn't have "the authorities" come get her and do whatever they might do with her (dump? incinerate?). I had made a promise to her, besides. It seemed important to honor her life as a valuable part of the natural ecosystem, rather than something that had to be thrown away. She was trying to bring life and didn't get to finish. Didn't get to produce the next link. I really related to her as a mother. Imagined being her. Imagined her last weeks and days and hours. I so felt her suffering, and the senselessness of her end. She was cheated out of her attempt to bring life.

I have thought alot about what is "real" since my standard class. She had only one real thing left to offer, and she came to me so that I could take it from her.

How did she know to come to me? It was the most real and sacred gift I have ever received. The gift of knowing her, really.You hear people say that they know all about dolphins/bears/wolves - because they saw a tv show or read an article. That's not knowing. I had been learning about deer because there are so many around me and I suspected there might be a special message for me from them. But my experience with her gave me a kinship that I had not yet felt. I *know* deer now, because of her. The natural consequence of experiencing anything in nature to that degree is respect and appreciation - the inherent gift - you can't NOT appreciate it once you've experienced it. Native people understood the gift of a stand of oaks beside a rock outcropping .. the better to grind the acorns. Sadly, our culture has interest in experiencing our own Mother and her gifts go unnoticed.

The only dignified end for her was to take her to a remote area nearby so that in her death, she could provide for all her relations.

Much like after my standard, I felt the hangover after the deer encounter as well. I knew there were people I just couldn't discuss this with - and it *hurts* that people can't understand it, can't see the realness of her.

I realized in a way I otherwise would not have - the value and dependence of every life upon every other life. But in our culture it is possible to eat meat every day of your life and *never* encounter the animal it came from *ever*! Our ancestors couldn't imagine that to be possible even if they wanted to.

Thus my love-hate relationship with technology. I regularly hear "I couldn't live without my [cell phone / computer / telelvision / car]," and I think to myself, really? What a shock if they knew that they could .. but would perish without rain and trees and wind and rocks and water.

So I have this deerskin in my freezer now - while I gather the tools to tan it. My daughter has asked me to come to her classroom and share with her class about it - which I will do after I have the skin tanned and can show it, too. Another way to honor deer spirit and her life in particular.