Being Stubborn Is Not a Virtue

I have been spending every weekend running errands for the housebuilding, or socializing with my grandson and his family, or trying to get laundry done (the washer is available -- now it's not -- now it is -- dance). Therefore, trying to get a haircut has not been crossed off the list of things I have to do. Each day I have looked witchier than usual when I get ready for work. I have gone through various routines of hair combs, pins, hair ties, etc. to alleviate the situation. I am not into much appearance maintenance stuff as it really is a losing battle, but sometimes one has to make the commitment to develop a put-together look to avoid being confused with someone homeless.

Finally, this morning at work, in frustration while untangling the hair on my neck which was caught in my necklace, I called a hair salon that is about a 20 minute drive from me and asked if I could get a haircut that evening. They didn't know the name of the person I requested but said they could get me in at 4:00 with someone else.

I had a meeting at work until 4:00 but told people at the meeting I would be leaving at 3:30. It was a survey meeting and they were working through the various tedious questions with my colleague and I. With only three questions left and my eye on the clock, I excused myself and hurried back to my office to get my stuff.

What on earth was I thinking? I repeat, WHAT WAS I THINKING! We have been on the weather channel all day. Just getting across the street through the flood caused by the rain should have caused me to pause. The ambulance racing up the hill should have caused pause. The beginning of rush hour should have caused a pause.

I was completely soaked by the time I reached the car in front of the apartment building. I tossed in the umbrella and other items and squeezed myself (like wringing a wet washcloth) behind the steering wheel. While I started the car I glanced at the clock radio---4:15!! What? I suddenly realized that the clock on the wall in our meeting room was over 30 minutes behind. I called the shop and said I would be late and was on my way, and could they still take me? (Of course, what other idiot plans for a hair cut in a monsoon?)

Well, with brilliance slightly short-circuited by rain, I decided to take a shorter route off the main highway. It was definitely an over the river and through the woods trip. Only, I couldn't get over the river as the bridge was flooded and a cop car was turning everyone away. Driving carefully back through another suburb and squinting through the wall of gray rain I saw all of the swales at the sides of the road were becoming rivers. Cars that passed were spraying waves of water on each side.

A normal person would have turned back as it was already 4:45 and I was no where near the mall with the hair shop. As a matter of fact, I wasn't sure where I was.

Damn it, I am getting this haircut. I am not going back.

Through luck and tenacity I made it to the mall by 5:00, but to my surprise (I did say the brain was short-circuiting, didn't I?) all sheltered parking was taken I waded through more water and with the posture and possible smell of a damp dog finally entered the shop. They could still take me, but the stylist had gone for coffee. No duh, I was almost an hour and a half late. I sat damp, limp, and cold thumbing through glossy magazines of those rich New York models who would look good even with a bucket of cold water thrown in their faces.

Finally, the stylist arrived and to shorten this tedious blahog...I got a nice cut and was able to join bumper to bumper traffic getting back home by 7:00. I am still a stubborn old bitch, but now a much better looking one.

Wanting Answers Already

Friday Flexing

This work week has been unnaturally long and demanding. I am not a bureaucrat and trying to fake it is killing me. I came from the world of education where there was a goal, a product, a reward. Bureaucrats work for visibility, power and god knows what else! Oh, yes, sometimes a little money. They also lie to your face. I hate working with people like that. Do they think I won't figure it out? I have a graduate degree! I am NOT an idiot. Maybe a little old and a little more passive, but not dumb.

So, I am going to string together my rants and flex my gray matter as therapy from the doldrums I am in so that I have a clean slate for the weekend.

1) Children push your buttons and don't even know they have that power. My son who lives 15 minutes from me and works 10 minutes from me, can manage to see me only once every ten weeks or so and never responds to my emails or phone calls---which actually have become pretty sparce on my part. I don't ask the wrong questions and he doesn't hate us; it is just a personality thing with him. I hate it and maybe I will kill him someday, if I stop loving him.

2) Energy and crazy ideas. I don't have them anymore. I dream but the body and mind ain't as willing as it used to be and that is why I am so thankful I have children. They rope me into lots of stuff. Grandchildren are even better.

3) My husband still has energy and crazy ideas. So, I accept that this is not an aging thing...maybe a menopause thing? Sorry guys. But I do have to rally the energy to put the brakes on him sometimes.

4) Global warming has me scared. I work with people who really understand its power. I used to work with another group of people 20 years ago who predicted this mess. I hate that people are so complacent about this.

5) I have to believe that what goes around comes around. This administration must reap the rewards of its efforts someday along with the rest of us.

6) I am once again living in a room of partially packed boxes. I have been here before. I think when I add it all up, the moves for myself, my children, and my mother-in law, the sum is at the very least 20 household moves. I can pat myself on the back for my resilience if nothing else.

7) Hubby is down at the house today washing the oyster racks and unpacking a few things. Last night was a killer lightning storm which kept us awake for hours, so he wanted to see how the drainage on the property was going.

8) And this just in...for more years than I care to count I have bitten my fingernails. I stopped (no effort on my part) several months ago right after the Hilton Head trip. What gives?

9) Gee, its Friday already. There is a light behind that gray cloud.

Post Script: Saw "Prarie Home Companion" last night. It provides the warm fuzzies you would expect, has outstanding low-keyed acting on the part of everyone, and HOSS would love the bad jokes sequence---all about P*****s, T and A's and bathroom humor. The other jokes were better, but this movie does have something for everyone. Sort of like an Our Town without the puritanical bent. (It helps if you are a Garrison Keillor fan, which I have been for years.)

Patience - the Slow Tango

Ask you can see from the photo above, my patience paid off. It took me almost another hour, but once I was down to a few tangles the resolution was fast and easy. I had to be really slow and patient, though, because the necklace wanted to dance itself back into a tango of knots at every time I sighed with frustration and accidentally shuddered. I think it was dancing because of the results of our late meeting with the doctor (proctologist urologist---both sound pretty dismal) last night.

I wore the necklace to work today. It was in celebration of the 94% cure (NOT remission) rate that the doctor promised my husband. These are odds that everyone would wish for. We are going ahead with the 'seed' therapy which has the least side effects and the one day down time. The only drawback (well not the only but the big drawback) and unusual restriction is that he cannot hold his grandson for any length of time for 60-90 days.

I will not write about the process in detail (unless someone needs information for their own journey down this path and lets me know). I am sure there will be some set backs, but we are optimistic because we have a ton of stuff to do in our long lives ahead.

Hari Bapa Bahagia

Indonesian Red Cross Society | UNICEF Indonesia | Mercy Corps | Caritas | Save The Children | Direct Relief International | Oxfam | Help Jogja

This is a little late but none-the-less important. If you still have your father on Sunday think about those who didn't get to see their father grow old, and if you can spare a little, send it to one of the links above. It is good karma.

Whitie in the Suburbs

Most handy homeowners have a favorite little one-stop store that they visit on the weekends in the spring. In small towns it is a local hardware store. In larger cities in my area it is usually the one-stop Lowes or the Home Depot. In spring these places are crowded with experts and innocents shoulder to shoulder all in search of something to fix or remodel or enhance on their house or in their yard.

We live rather close to one of the most successful Home Depots in a very affluent home area. Just trying to get a parking place can cause a small altercation. That is why I should not have been surprised at what happened outside my local Home Depot last Saturday.

As usual, I was into elaborate talking mode accompanied by elaborate hand waving mode to explain the type of item we should be looking for as my husband and I descended the stairs from the parking lot to the main entrance. Suddenly, mid-way down the stairs, he placed his hand on the front of my shoulder to stop me from taking the next step. He was looking at the small crowd of people at the bottom of the stairs in front of the primary entrance to the store.

As I focused on the crowd I began to see that this was not a normal milling of people. There was one large man who looked about 40, at least 6'’4"”, his head towering above all the others and standing in an aggressive stance while two smaller men behind him were pulling on his faded red t-shirt and attempting to hold him back. The man was somewhat attractive and maybe Arabic or Asian Indian descent. He reminded me a little of Vincent D'Onofrio, the detective on Law and Order, Criminal Intent.

He was that good looking, but like D'’Onofrio there was something a little creepy about him. Anyway, on the other side of the small circle of the dozen on so people were two much smaller men their faces twisted and arguing back. They also looked middle-eastern or Asian, but were clearly older with gray hair...maybe in their late 50'’s and short in stature. In between this pushing and shoving and shouting were two Home Depot employees with the traditional red aprons trying to keep the peace. One was a heavy-set black man working very hard to calm down the Vincent-look-alike. The black man would no sooner get the '“V-O'” look alike back to the edge of the circle and seemingly calm and then the guy would rise up like a big bear and head for the two men again. This went on for at least five minutes. The big guy was relentless and I thought he might be drunk or on something, even though he seemed pretty coordinated.

Finally, when 'V-O' got on his high horse one final time, the black man lost his patience and gave up the polite and calming approach and started talking loud and using his chest to bump the man back. I got the feeling that he had dealt with this in another life, maybe the military. He seemed very controlled and confident and began ordering the guy to get off the property. This level of confrontation seemed to freeze the crowd momentarily.

I also had lost my patience and ignoring the mess, hurried down the stairs and just around the circle into the doorway hoping that hubby was behind me. As I looked through the automatic glass door, I was surprised to see a line of shocked people inside the door with their purchases and full shopping carts waiting to leave. What a mess!

Well, my husband and I hurried on into the store and headed back to the aisle to get going. We had a long day of errands ahead of us, and this idiot was not going to slow us down anymore. He was gone by the time we made it through the checkout a short time later. All the white suburbanites were pretty much in shock that such a thing could happen in their precious little neighborhood. I ws just very irritated and thankful that no blood had been spilled.

String Theory?

Sometimes I find that my life is running in a theme. Or perhaps not. Perhaps I just see things with a different skew depending on events.

I spent about an hour trying to untangle this silver necklace above. It is one of those long single strand necklaces---reminded me of the beads we wore back in the 'hippy' days. I bought it at a kiosk about a month ago and placed it carefully in a jewlery bag. When I took it out to wear it for the first time this past week I discovered that it had been impatient to get out and had tied itself in knots. This first hour of trying to untie knots has taken much patience and I have made about 15% progress. So, if I devote a good part of my life to this task, I may actually wear this someday. It is a test of patience.

I went down to the house we are building yesterday and there were lots of loose ends that I wish I could tie up. We had taken the 1,000 pieces of hardware for our masterbedroom closet and were eager to at least begin this task of installation. Unfortunately, we soon realized that there was still too much builders' junk in there to even begin to start an installation. There are lots of other little things still as well. My towel bars are too wide for the small bathrooms with little wall space and I don't know if the builder can return them...are they going to be an ebay entanglement? There are about 4 new holes in the walls as if they were looking for something---maybe something tangled behind the sheetrock? Another test of patience.

And last and certainly not least, my husband's medical report that I had blogged about a while back did not come back benign. It is not an aggressive thing and he is a good candidate for the least invasive procedure (sort of like gardening where they plant seeds (!)) but it is still an entanglement from which we wish to extricate ourselves as soon as possible as well as another test of patience that we have to get through. I am not the type of blogger who feels better blogging about this stuff, so you will not read all the details from here. You all have enough entanglements and tests of patience in your own lives.

Well, I shall disentangle myself from this chair and get another cup of coffee before I start my well-deserved weekend that I have so patiently been waiting for.

Like Sands Through the Hourglass?

Some days it's more like shovels of dirt through the manhole and I am in it. When did this kid get his driver's license?

Are YOU Prepared?

I received a ‘guide’ in the mail yesterday. It was titled “Home Guide to Emergency Preparedness.” Photo above is of the first page. Nothing says preparedness like a cartoon of politically correct people with smiles on their faces. They had everyone represented including the ‘media-geek’, but they forgot the disabled (unless the elder-person represents both.) My first reaction to this mailing was remembering, (chagrin, chagrin,) how the teachers of my youth taught us to cover our heads under our desks if there was a nuclear attack. I am glad to see that preparedness has come so far.

Anyway, since everything in the recent news has been about the feds cutting local terrorist prevention funding and that most local agencies are pretty much saying it is going to be up to the individual to save themselves in an emergency…i.e. “Don’t call us because we will be very busy writing our press releases.” I was pretty interested in how I should proceed to save my butt if the need arose.

So I continued to peruse this missive. The second page consisted of ‘Bioterrorism frequently asked questions.’ After defining bioterrorism the answer to the burning question “What can we do?’ was “Stay alert and stay calm because this helps government agencies control the situation and protect you.” What? Then they went on to describe methods of dispersal and resulting symptoms of a number of biological agents. That was really fun reading, but not much help.

There was a list of useful phone numbers, most of which I am guessing would not be answered during an emergency, but nice to post on the side of the refrigerator for false reassurance purposes. There was a whole page on smallpox (which I was vaccinated against in my twenties when I headed overseas…wonder if that still is effective?).

Then the page on “Preparing Your Home for an Emergency” was finally getting to specifics. They suggested that we store a 3-5 day supply of food, water, vitamins, medicine, etc., planning on one gallon of water per person per day.

And, at last, the best part. Shelter in Place-SIP. If you are a federal employee you hear and test for this several times a year in your office building. This SIP was written for someone who owns and lives in a single-family house. The safest place in my apartment is the bathroom--see this shoebox room below. There is no way to turn off the huge vent fan in this room as that is the only return vent and run by the building itself. I can barely find room to brush my teeth each morning. Storing 3-5 days of supplies in this room would mean we would have to use some one else’s bathroom in this building for the duration. (Yes, I was standing on the toilet when I took this picture.)



And then the very best part was this diagram above of an evacuation plan for my building…I live in such a sophisticated high tech society. Anyway if you come for a visit, I will post this evacuation plan by the door so that you can get out safely.

The Small Story

I have probably explained this habit of mine before, but I will tell about my relationship (addiction) with Amaryllis plants.

Over the years I would receive one as a gift and being the frugal person and lover of plants that I am, I would see if I could keep the bulb alive for the next year. I knew that the bulb would only bloom once and then spend its months restoring itself with just the lovely large leaves. I would cut the dead blossom (sometimes removing the pollen while it bloomed so that the blossom would last longer) and then keep the plant watered and in sun inside my house until the weather permitted me to move the pot outside. I would continue to nurture the plant outside until September when I would stop watering and move it into a dry area where it would not get the rain. Once the leaves started to yellow and wilt -- usually before the really cold nights -- I would cut the leaves, make sure the soil was dry and then pack the plant away into a dark place in my basement until the next season.

I got into the habit of forcing the amaryllis to bloom in February when nothing else was going to provide me such beauty except leggy pontsettias after the winter holidays and before the spring blooms began. Over time I had collected and forced each year about 25 of these bulbs. They lined the space along the windows in my family room. And I probably looked a little silly hauling all the pots outside each year and back inside in the fall. I gave most of them away when we sold the house and had to move into the rental house.

With each additional move I got rid of a few more.

Three weeks ago when I was cleaning this tiny apartment I moved a small bench to vacuum near the kitchen wall. There was a black garbage bag with something heavy inside. I assumed it was some boat or fishing gear that my hubby had tucked away. Well, I am sure you are way ahead of me and realize it was one of the amaryllis plants. It happened to be my largest that has multiple bulbs in one pot that I have not had time to separate.

I brought it out and saw that it had not even begun to send up any shoots even though it was months behind schedule. I was sure that it was dead and not just dormant, but I watered it anyway and placed it next to our kitchen window. Well, as you can see, in three short weeks, it has rewarded me tremendously!

There is some lesson in this about patience or unrequited love or something and if I was more energetic some haiku or poem that I should create...but I am just happy to be so lucky!

Weekend Walk in the Woods

I am sure that I will end up naming a number of posts like this with the same name, since this is what I do in the spring---walk in the woods. We drove to the mountains in West Virginia to see how long we could make spring last. Weather here in the city is already in the 80's and climbing.


My husband found a trail called Devil's Stairsteps and the forestry map had described it as 'strenuous' which immediately made me NOT want to take it. But just like a dog on a leash I went along, and, of course, we ended up hiking about 5 miles total before we got back to the car. It was mid-day before we reached the trail and so we unfortunately started our hike just as the weather was getting warm and spent a good part walking in the warmest part of day. The drifting clouds that covered the sun intermittently were most welcome. It was just an afternoon hike due to the late start---otherwise hubby would have dragged me several more miles. His motto is: "Never leave a side trail unexplored."

OK, get your coffee or tea or cold lemonade, and put your feet up, because I will take you along with no sweat on your part. You can click on the images to better see what I saw.



All the trees were golden or emerald green except for a lovely rose colored ash in one of the valleys below. Birds were unusually loud and territorial for mid-day. We saw several cuckoos, a few grosbeaks and a lovely rust-colored thrasher all flitting and singing. Well, the thrasher was sort of clucking in the ground at our feet trying to avoid the hikers walking from both directions on the trail--- it was a little like rush hour at times. Mountain laurel were just starting to open and a good part of the trail was bordered with them which I tried to show in the photos above.


We took a small side trail hoping for a rock out-cropping so that we could look out across the ravine. There appeared to be a break in the canopy of heavy trees and that is where we came upon two lady-slipper plants---related to the orchid. They were large and had white moths at the base of the flowers--maybe pollinating them. I was glad they were well away from the trail so that people wouldn't step on them or pick them. These are a rare find for me.


The blue-eyed grass was in bloom and reminded me that I want to get some plants of this to place near the house in one of the landscape beds. I had these at my last house. I caught a visiting bee when I snapped this photo!


Two lovely mating butterflies danced back and forth across the path and here is one of them caught in mid-air over the trail.


And, of course, much wild geranium was sprinkling its pink petals along the paths.

And finally, a screen saver for your PC. I didn't resize this, so if you can get it open, it is all yours as a spring gift from me. It was not 'photoshopped' but just a natural dark background from the forest.

Wild pink azalea

Now wasn't that a pleasant sojourn?

On the Street Where I Lived

This is a photo of my son taken years ago in Indonesia. The woman on the right was my cook. The location is Jogjakarta just off of Kaliruang road and in front of the house that I wrote about in Life Story #4 although you cannot see the house from this angle. I wonder what it looks like today. 2,500 and still counting. I am sad.

Omens

Omen is a short but powerful word, filled with shadow and potent possibility. When I ‘Googled’ the word to see the scope of definitions, it at first appeared to portend only disasters or disturbances. Then, as I read more definitions, omen could also represent a coming miracle or profitable event. In some explanations it was a visible sign, usually in nature, but the ancient Romans believed that a word spoken by chance and perhaps overheard by the gods was an also omen.

Omen only means something if one is observational and superstitious. I am not generally superstitious because that means giving away power to something else, which I am not willing to do. Yet, I do try to be more observant of life’s energies around me. I try to take some time to focus on being in the moment as I rush from task to task during my work days and days off. I try to consciously tune into my instinctual ear and eye to prevent the smothering by artificial noise and visual demands of life. My husband is a much better observer of his surroundings than I am. I actually think that being in the woods and hunting and fishing have honed this skill in him. He is quicker to react to an emergency or pre-emergency sign and thinks more clearly than I. Like a chess player he will see the three moves ahead while I am still trying to assimilate the here and now. Therefore, while it may or may not be an omen, he is the first to see, evaluate and take action if needed.

Two events that I have seen recently have been bouncing around in my head, and that is what brought me to thinking about omens. When we started building on our property on the river for our retirement home, within a year, a large and lovely oak tree that sheltered our dock near the water’s edge, died. It was lovely and healthy and except for a very large burl at its base, there was no sign of stress. It died in September even before it could put on the lovely colored cloak of semi-death that appears in the fall. When I studied the tree after its death, I saw signs of termites all around the base of the trunk. So the process had been ongoing. I have been told that an oak burl, if harvested, is very valuable for furniture and woodworking. Thus, there is beauty somewhere in this death. This oak was much older than I, yet too young to die. It had seen many mornings, days, and nights on this land. It had fed and sheltered the wildlife and provided a place for children to climb and view the water. Did it die because of grief when we bulldozed its brothers and sisters? Was it our noise and chatter which we added to a formerly quieter place? Is it an omen? What does it mean? Maybe it was just its time, but why can’t I get it out of my head?

A second series of events has also been tickling my brain. When we traveled to Hawaii this past winter, the first to greet us on our hotel deck was a lovely red cardinal. He studied us carefully each day. I assumed that tourists had fed the birds and he was just checking out a possible pantry raid. When we arrived at Hilton Head last month, the very first thing I saw as I looked out across the balcony patio was a scarlet cardinal in the top of the tree looking back at me. There is nothing really unusual here, because cardinals are pretty common birds. Finally, last week when we were talking in our empty garage at the new house, a cardinal landed on the ground and peeked under the half open garage door. He saw us, but didn’t fly away. He did a little dance back and forth and then would look up at us and cock his head. It really seemed as though he was welcoming us to the woods. My husband and I knew he was trying to communicate in some way. His behavior wasn’t really that of a wild bird. But, then again, maybe he was checking out a possible new pantry and he wasn’t all that wild.

Here's To Your Health!!

One of the characteristics of aging is that you tend to read more health news because you want to live forever. I have been doing so and my synthesis (without links to the original sources---you will just have to trust me) follows below:

A new study hints that eating milk chocolate may boost brain function. (Heck, I knew that! I’ll bet they got hundreds of thousands of dollars of my tax money to run this silly study.)

If you needed another excuse to savor a glass of good red wine, scientists say it may supply antioxidants that protect the delicate hairs of the inner ear that are essential for hearing. (What?... I need all the excuses I can get.)

Heavy pot smoking does not increase lung cancer risk. (I don’t smoke pot, but now I can with a clear conscience.)

Not enough sleep increases obesity. (This is a relief and I am going to quit setting the alarm clock.)

And to add to the sleep/health dynamic:
Women who drink between one and three cups of coffee a day substantially lowered their risk of dying from inflammatory and cardiovascular diseases. Researchers said that coffee is an anti-oxidant. ( More coffee, so I can wake-up, please.)

Is over exercise is bad for you? That question was raised last week by a 61-year-old reader who worried about the safety of her running regimen - an hour a day, five days a week. A trainer told her such a cardio schedule was likely degrading, not improving, her health and fitness. (This is for all those skinny-can’t-pinch-an inch types…slow down and smell the roses!!)

A California county is expected to receive a $6 million windfall from Proposition 63, a measure passed in 2004 that taxes Californians who earn more than $1 million a year in order to pay for mental-health services. (As we know, based on examples like Tom Cruise, this state needs better mental-health services, even if TC won’t take advantage!)

And good news for my husband who used his retirement money to by a shiny red kayak:
"To move the kayak at about 5 mph is going to require about 0.1 hp of effort," said Finlay. That is equal to about 400 calories per hour. "Four hours of paddling is going to burn up about 1600 calories! A weight watcher's dream!"

Two-faced?

It appears even water birds can be two-sided depending on how you approach them...just like people.

Life Story # 4: One Fateful Night in 1983

It seemed that we had actually become settled in our new place on the side of the mountain just off of Kaliurang Road in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. After several hectic weeks of looking for hired help to do laundry by hand since we had no washing machine, and hiring a cook since food had to be purchased at the market on a daily basis, water had to be purified, vegetables had to be sanitized, etc., I finally was able to start tutoring my daughter in her second grade lessons. There was a small mission school but it only had classes up to the first grade. I hired a jaga malam (night watchman) who actually babysat my youngest son during the mornings when I was tutoring.

We had gotten used to the crowded dirt roads, the unusual smells, and astonished reactions to our white skin. We were even beginning to sleep through the blare of the Imam’s call to prayer through an electronic loudspeaker just outside our upstairs louvered bedroom window at sunrise each morning. During the daytime, Kaliurang Road was busy with dusty traffic heading up and down the mountain, but at sunset the area suddenly became quieter and all you could hear was the infrequent bicycle bell and the rhythmic call of the street vendors with their wheeled carts.

Our two-story house, while built of concrete, was oddly shaped with stairs of inconsistent height, the occasional rejections of small pieces of cement from the high ceilings above and a small patio in the back with an orchid covered wall which was also another house’s patio wall. It probably would not pass code in the United States, but for Indonesia it was considered a small palace with its extensive terrazzo front porch, terrazzo floors throughout and electrical pump for our well water.

I remember one peaceful morning while my daughter was working on a school project, I headed upstairs above the servants’ side of the house to talk to our babu cuci (laundress) about something. She was in a small sheltered alcove on the roof hanging clothes. I had never been up to this area which also housed our drinking water in a large cement catchment. The view looking over the chest- high wall above the red-tiled rooftops was so freeing in its vastness. In the distance I could see the perfect cone shape of Mt. Merapi with its little cloud of volcanic smoke blowing away in a feathery wisp. (I think I have a photo of this somewhere that maybe I can add here.)

A few nights after this I was shaken roughly awake from a deep sleep by my husband. “Get C. (our son)”, he cried. “I will get Y (our daughter). Hurry! Hurry!”  He threw back the covers and jumped out of bed.

My brain was foggy and I moved slower than I should have while trying to absorb the anxious tone of my husband’s voice.

“Wha…What is it?” I sat up in bed.

“Just hurry! We have to get outside. There is an earthquake.”

I got up from the low platform bed and ran to my son’s room and scooped him into my arms. I didn’t feel anything unusual as I moved across the floor, but as we descended the stairs I saw out of the corner of my eye the aquarium water slopping in dramatic waves out of the sides of the aquarium onto the floor.

We rushed to the street. Only a few others were outside standing in the dirt road. We waited in quiet shock anticipating the worst. There was a small tremor that swayed the bamboo fence in the front of the yard and then nothing for a very long time. There was no noise in the neighborhood to indicate anyone else had noticed that the earth had shaken her shoulders.

Our crazy concrete palace was still standing and nothing had fallen from the ceiling as we carefully made our way back inside. We eventually fell asleep and awoke the next day with the memories seeming like a dream.

If you are following the news recently you will understand that we could have been going through much worse with Mt. Merapi eruptions.

Mother’s Day Thoughts

Exhausted from spending the Saturday before Mother’s Day cooking several meals for incoming relatives so that your daughter, who is a new mother herself, doesn’t have to when they come to stay at her house this week.

Thinking about your daughter’s plans for a week-long Italy trip for both you and her mother-in-law in the fall.

Not knowing if your only son will remember it is Mother’s Day and give you a call.

Realizing, again this year, that you no longer have a mother to buy a Mother’s Day card for or to call.

Seeing all the hard-working moms on Saturday in the stores and wondering what their Mother’s Day will be like.

Oddly enough, having no plans other than morning exercise followed by a wonderful bubble bath.

Sand Review

So the trip down to Hilton Head WAS a little long. Mom got a little creative in trying to distract the hunger pains.

Once we had unpacked the groceries and stuff, we immediately changed into beach clothes and grabbed the beach gear and introduced Xman to the beach and he immediately fell asleep.



Once back in the condo and before we started dinner, Xman decided we needed to inventory each and every cupboard...with great noise and zest.

The second day at the beach was a little better. Xman at least stayed awake and discovered how easy it was to navigate the hard sand and to chase the gray and white things that were much smaller than he.


The afternoon bike ride required refreshment and a nap on his part.

Maybe more on the trip later.

Ok, I'll go for it!

I have filled in the "Where I am From Template" and while not completely happy, I am sending it forward like a newborn baby with the cheesy coating not completely peeled away.

I AM FROM

I am from worn books and small farms, from Sears and Roebuck and home-canned sweet cherries.

I am from the big picture windows facing the breath-taking snowy peaks.

I am from a homemade house, a barn of swift swallows and meadows of cow grass; I am from the irrigation pond and the foothills riddled with chipmunks and cactus.

I am from picnics on the sides of swiftly flowing rivers and three people talking at once, from immigrant 14-year-olds and Mary Jane and Daniel and Kitten and Richard and Doenie and Debi.

I am from going six directions at once and stretching the dollar until it snaps; From skinny legs and talking too much.

I am from now and then religion that came as needed and disappeared just as fast. Church was summer camp crafts and evening vespers.

I'm from the Italian Alps and the rugged gravel paths above timberline, homemade pasta sauce and Sunday fried chicken.

From directing children’s backyard theater rehearsals, the long hikes under the shushing pine trees, and the childlessness and parentlessness of others.

I am from a five-dollar camel-back trunk, a million digital photos and collected sea shells whispering priceless memories.

Now why did I come downstairs?

I have on the desk in front of my monitor a folded white paper napkin. On this napkin I have written in pencil the following words in the following format:

"Tucumseh
ALEX THE GREAT
Best Sea captain in British Navy in 1800's
World's leaders saw interesting time + place"

I know that this had something to do with a blog I was thinking of writing a few weeks ago, but I cannot grasp even a glimmer of a clue when searching the old gray matter inside my skull. According to a recent scientific experiment that I particpated in, too much sand and sun does fry the brain.