That's what we called it.
The Hole.
My trustworthy Chambers Dictionary describes a "hole" as being a noun, a hollow place; a cavity; place of lodging; an animal's place of refuge; or even as a secret room. It was all of these and more to those of us who felt lucky enough to live in one of the neighborhoods that bordered the empty field that housed The Hole.
Our neighborhood was referred to as the "White Island". In that part of the LosAngeles burbs back in the 60's I guess our small group of Craftsman homes was indeed surrounded by a sea of, to lack a better phrase "non-whites". What "ethnicity" one was never affected ownership rights to The Hole. On any given day, it was the kids that got there FIRST who could proclaim themselves the winners and official occupants (for the day at least) of The Hole.
Due to school, homework and early dinner hours during the week The Hole would sit uninhabited and quite ignored except for the random crows that would scavenge pieces of dried up peanut butter and jelly sandwiches left behind by the previous occupants. Also, it wasn't quite as fun to stake claim to The Hole when there wasn't anyone to challenge who got there first. Saturday mornings were a totally different story. If we were lucky...(lucky being whoever got there FIRST) managing The Hole would consume most of our day. It's one of those things that even if we did not want to spend the whole day in a dirty hole, in the middle of an empty field, keeping a lookout for Hole Snatchers, that is where we would all hang out. Like it or not. Boring or not. And for the whole day.
Bragging, ownership and WE'RE THE BEST rights overruled having fun skateboarding or riding our bikes.
What were we thinking?!
Then one day it finally happened.
We had our eyes opened (or in my case shut) as to how really stupid it was to spend valuable play time claiming and defending this very small piece of real estate.
Let me explain the events that led up to this revelation.
As in every "army" there usually can be found a renegade or two who choose to not follow the rules of war. Respect to the rules understood by all the parties involved fly out the window when the enemy is disrespected. That is when people can get hurt if there is a retaliation to the disrespect. (am I making any sense here??)
On this particular Saturday morning our renegade soldiers from "The White Island" decided to sneak up to the already occupied Hole and toss in a couple of dirt clods to "show the other neighborhood that although we did not have claim rights to The Hole that morning we wanted them to understand that we were not happy about that status. Keep in mind this was a random bullying act from two brothers who most likely were just acting out of frustration from extra chores at home or something along that line. It did not matter why they did what they did, but by doing so a Cry to Arms was sounded. Soon EVERYONE (inhabitants of The Hole and of the White Island) were involved in one of the largest dirt clod/rock throwing fights the Neighborhoods had ever been witness to before.
I was five at the time and quite the peace loving (and curious) little girl so I just stood by my older brother in a show of solidarity behind a small fence that was being used to deflect the onslaught of rocks and dirt clods.
Being quite curious about anything and everything, when I peeked over the fence to get a good view of the fracas I allowed my person to be momentarily un-protected. That is when I got clobbered in the eye by a rock disguised as a dirt clod. (those do tend to throw further and not fall apart in transit).
All flinging of clods, rocks and insults ceased when my older brother yelled that there had been a casualty on our side. Parents came streaming out of homes wondering what was going on and I was whisked off to the local emergency room to see what the damage was.
I was lucky. A good flushing (and many treats) later my bruised only eye and I went home.
We all learned a lot that day.
One being that if you hurt one of her kids my mom will make sure the perpetrator turns over any and all of their paper route money to pay for the damage.
More importantly the Neighborhoods learned to share The Hole, (once everyone was allowed to actually go out and play in the field again).
Sure wish those lessons were as easily learned by everyone everywhere.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b7qaSxuZUg
Friday, August 12, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Technology....
It's a love/slightly not like relationship for me. This technology stuff. For a person, such as myself, who tends to be "a reactor" in life, the instantness of our gadgets can get me in trouble! If I tweet or post my status on Facebook it is INSTANTLY OUT THERE. Sheesh, it would be lame for me to post something else within the next ten minutes (even though my status has changed) however that is how it goes sometimes. Up-Down-Hot-Cold-Happy-NotSoHappy. In some ways this whole social networking thing has made me a bit of a shrinking violet since not only do the people closest to me know that I am similar to a fart in a whirlwind, EVERYONE on Facebook or Twitter can be aware of that fact as well.
And what about cell phones?! Hands down, no doubt about it, they are useful and convenient. I know I am going to "date" myself as I roll down memory lane, but heck it wasn't that long ago when cell phones were non-existent except to perhaps secret agents and spys. Back in high school if I really liked some one, I would somehow figure out how to let them have my phone number. And then the waiting would commence. Hoping beyond hope that when the phone rang it would be for me AND that my sometimes bratty younger brother would not answer the phone first. Or my parents, who always asked too many questions. IF the phone call was indeed for me, most likely the whole family would be able to listen in on the conversation as I was CONNECTED to the wall or desk by the phone. Luckily my parents had long cords so I could stretch into the pantry for a bit of privacy. There were no answering machines when I went to high school either. My younger brother (yes, the bratty one) certainly did not fit the description of one either. Ideally (in a pefect world)should he be the one to answer the phone,he would write down an accurate account of who the caller was (with more detail than "some guy"),and write down any pertinate information relating to the call. My brother employed his own unique style. And he was expensive, since bribery is never cheap. It was always very "iffy" on whether he would actually pass on information to me when he anwered the phone, or totally RUIN any chances I had with the caller by making what he called "small talk". I'll give you an example: "Oh you want to talk to my sister? Why? Oh. O.K. even though she thinks you are a jack-hole and only wants to ride your motorcycle? So do you want her to call you back? Yea I thought so. Later."
As awful as it sometimes was at least I did not have to live with the angst of NOT getting a call. With caller I.D., messaging, e-mail, everyone having their OWN cell phones there really is no way to excuse non-communication.
That's where the love /slightly not like part comes in.
In the midst of all this instant communicating I am working to STAY IN THE MOMENT (but not let everyone on Facebook and Twitter know what that moment is about!) When reflecting on how we used to communicate, a phone call never happened while walking, paying for your groceries or driving your car. So if I am going to talk on the phone, write a note or update my status...I hereby make a vow to FOCUS on what I am doing at that moment and make it magical, which should be easy if I am not thinking about the traffic, the checkout person, whether I bought enough tomatoes...
And what about cell phones?! Hands down, no doubt about it, they are useful and convenient. I know I am going to "date" myself as I roll down memory lane, but heck it wasn't that long ago when cell phones were non-existent except to perhaps secret agents and spys. Back in high school if I really liked some one, I would somehow figure out how to let them have my phone number. And then the waiting would commence. Hoping beyond hope that when the phone rang it would be for me AND that my sometimes bratty younger brother would not answer the phone first. Or my parents, who always asked too many questions. IF the phone call was indeed for me, most likely the whole family would be able to listen in on the conversation as I was CONNECTED to the wall or desk by the phone. Luckily my parents had long cords so I could stretch into the pantry for a bit of privacy. There were no answering machines when I went to high school either. My younger brother (yes, the bratty one) certainly did not fit the description of one either. Ideally (in a pefect world)should he be the one to answer the phone,he would write down an accurate account of who the caller was (with more detail than "some guy"),and write down any pertinate information relating to the call. My brother employed his own unique style. And he was expensive, since bribery is never cheap. It was always very "iffy" on whether he would actually pass on information to me when he anwered the phone, or totally RUIN any chances I had with the caller by making what he called "small talk". I'll give you an example: "Oh you want to talk to my sister? Why? Oh. O.K. even though she thinks you are a jack-hole and only wants to ride your motorcycle? So do you want her to call you back? Yea I thought so. Later."
As awful as it sometimes was at least I did not have to live with the angst of NOT getting a call. With caller I.D., messaging, e-mail, everyone having their OWN cell phones there really is no way to excuse non-communication.
That's where the love /slightly not like part comes in.
In the midst of all this instant communicating I am working to STAY IN THE MOMENT (but not let everyone on Facebook and Twitter know what that moment is about!) When reflecting on how we used to communicate, a phone call never happened while walking, paying for your groceries or driving your car. So if I am going to talk on the phone, write a note or update my status...I hereby make a vow to FOCUS on what I am doing at that moment and make it magical, which should be easy if I am not thinking about the traffic, the checkout person, whether I bought enough tomatoes...
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Skyler Seagull Hatches An App!
Finally! It feels good to participate in a creative project as it moves through the stages of idea-plan-research-write-edit-write some more-edit again and then mesh it with the other components of the project until wah-la! It is finis!! As a confirmed procrastinator it was the best thing in the world for me to have others depending on me to produce (on time) my stake in the project.
And we are all pretty proud of it as well! Here is the Press Release that I am using as we begin the process of Getting the Word Out.
Astoria! Sights to see with Skyler Seagull
Enjoying the sights of Astoria, Oregon will be a breeze with this application for your iPhone, iPod Touch or iPad, iOS 3.2 +. With Skyler as your audio guide,detailed descriptions of the interesting sights and museums in the area are at your fingertips. Professional pictures and descriptions of the attractions are only the beginning! A Google map, addresses, hours of operation and other pertinent information are all available just to name a few. A share feature is provided,making it simple to Tweet, Facebook or email your friends about the great time you are having! The star feature allows you to highlight you favorite attractions.
Priced at only $1.99 it's a fun and convenient way to experience Astoria!
Remember to keep the wind under your wings!
Available now for iPhone, iPod Touch or iPad, iOS 3.2+ on the App Store
http://www.browncoatapps.com/astoria-oregon/
So there you have it! Check out the website even if you do not have one of the Apple products to download it onto. I feel as if I have been stuck in the mud, or on ice, or in the sand...just spinning my wheels, wanting to get going but to no avail. Well this mirliton likes the zoom zoom feeling of a completed project and I do not plan on getting stuck again (at least not for awhile!)
And we are all pretty proud of it as well! Here is the Press Release that I am using as we begin the process of Getting the Word Out.
Astoria! Sights to see with Skyler Seagull
Enjoying the sights of Astoria, Oregon will be a breeze with this application for your iPhone, iPod Touch or iPad, iOS 3.2 +. With Skyler as your audio guide,detailed descriptions of the interesting sights and museums in the area are at your fingertips. Professional pictures and descriptions of the attractions are only the beginning! A Google map, addresses, hours of operation and other pertinent information are all available just to name a few. A share feature is provided,making it simple to Tweet, Facebook or email your friends about the great time you are having! The star feature allows you to highlight you favorite attractions.
Priced at only $1.99 it's a fun and convenient way to experience Astoria!
Remember to keep the wind under your wings!
Available now for iPhone, iPod Touch or iPad, iOS 3.2+ on the App Store
http://www.browncoatapps.com/astoria-oregon/
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Talon the Squirrel
Talon.
So one might be wondering how I came up with a name such as that as it sounds mighty noble and tough for a squirrel.
Well, he was.
Approximately a month or so ago I noticed one of our furry friends had a rather large red wound on his back. And although those little rascals are very quick as they scurry here and there checking out all possible food sources in our outdoor cafe I was finally able to figure out what the wound was on his back.
A large bird of prey had obviously grabbed Talon and somehow, someway the lucky guy had managed to get loose from the visor death grip and escaped.
This wound covered his whole back and it would make my day each time I watched the lucky squirrel eating and playing with the other squirrels, trying to chase off the rats that are visitors to the cafe as well. The wound healed and left a very distinctive scar that looked exactly like, you guessed it.
A talon.
His luck ran out yesterday, but not before he taught one very important lesson to the two dumb humans that run the Seedy Cafe.
The lesson?
Listen to your intuition!! Yes, that inner wisdom that tells you what is right or wrong...for you. We didn't and now we are feeling the anguish of what a human feels when they don't listen to that voice.
Previously I had mentioned that other visitors to the Seedy Cafe were rats that enjoyed the bird seed as much as the birds and squirrels. Unfortunately one rat had turned into two and then lo and behold there are four little ones out and about. With the growing rodent population came more holes all leading to under our cottage. With the multiple holes came horror stories of what would happen if we did not do something to control the situation, as rats tend to reproduce like rabbits (or so I heard) which in actuality I do not know the reproduction schedule of rabbits other than they do it alot?)
Our "intuition" told us to use a live trap. Our neighbor, and everyone else we spoke to regarding this situation pretty much suggested a humane way to get rid of the rats was to electrocute them in a special trap.
"Intuition" told us both dead was dead. However we went ahead and justified setting the trap out near one of their entrances deciding that perhaps killing a couple of rats will prevent us from having to kill many more if we waited.
Well even the baby rats knew not to go in the trap, (don't know if you know this but rats are extremely intelligent) and after four days had not triggered it. In fact one of the babies sleepily emerged from under our cottage, scurried past the trap (and me) looking for his seed breakfast.
Yesterday, as us two dumb humans were getting ready to head off for a morning of errands decided to "reset the trap" with of course lots of yummy bird seed. I saw where Nate had set it and thought to myself that's too tempting (and accessible) to the squirrels.
However I did not say or do anything to honor what my inner voice had just told me.
That's how we murdered Talon. I don't know if murder is too strong of a word, but that's what I am feeling. He is dead and will not greet me when the sun comes up this morning. He liked to sit on the gate and look into the living room willing me to go outside and fill up the peanut container. It always worked.
Nate says the other squirrels will not hold a grudge. They won't have to as I am holding it against myself anyway.
Talon had beat the odds and escaped an accomplished bird of prey's grip only to be zapped to death in a "safe environment" that he had trusted for almost two years.
I am so sorry Talon.
We will figure out another way to deal with the rats that does not involve killing, humane or not because after all dead is dead. More importantly when one values life, it truly does not matter if you are cute or not.
I wished I had learned the lesson without having to feel the guilt that I do because I have violated something that is important to me.
Please forgive me.
Saturday, December 04, 2010
A Few Unmentionable Thoughts
I just can't let this muse go.
The situation in my drawer was pathetic.
Yes, it was time to venture to the land of retail and purchase a bra (or two). Was I nuts? The mall which was the ONE place that I would find the particular brand that I like was my destination. Santa and a kazillion other shoppers would be there but as mentioned before the situation had become dire.
Loaded with good intentions and reminding myself that nothing would "disturb my calm" (a saying I happily adopted from a character (Jayne) in favorite sci-fi show of ours Firefly). I ventured onward. So far, so good, as it was still early in the day. There was a Choir of sweet cherubs singing and the crazy crowds had not left their native habitats yet.
I checked on a few Christmas gifts, picked up tights for my granddaughter and was feeling very empowered by the whole experience, even wishing a fellow shopper a "Happy Holiday".
Then it was time for the dressing room.
Tell me what are the odds of getting the SAME salesperson when I have only been into this store one other time this year?? I should wish for such odds and play the lottery that's all I have to say about that. So I KNOW what style I like, and let's face it ladies bras are an EXTREMELY unique item to purchase. The wrong fit could leave one black and blue, or worse make ones breasts look like torpedoes or a cantaloupe...(you get the idea) therefore STYLE, PROPER FIT and of course $$ are all important items to take into account.
I researched the brand I usually get and decided to actually try on a different STYLE.
Open the floodgates of retail opportunity for my salesperson! She now held me captive in a dressing room with "other" STYLES that would most surely not only fit well but help me to feel super sexy.
Seriously how many people see you in a bra?? O.K. Maybe that is too personal of a question. So I realize it is time to make a decision and get the heck out of the room when she hands over not one but two different style of "very beautiful" bras that cost $125... EACH!!
Now I am used to spending a bit more for my bras, much more than most women I would guess, but seriously $125?! For that amount one would think that it not only offers support and sexiness but also massage, skin conditioning and an overall euphoric experience for my breasts.
I passed them by.
Guess good old practicality and plain jane-ness won out. My breasts might not be having the ultimate bra experience but I bet I can find some other fun way to spend the $ I saved.
The situation in my drawer was pathetic.
Yes, it was time to venture to the land of retail and purchase a bra (or two). Was I nuts? The mall which was the ONE place that I would find the particular brand that I like was my destination. Santa and a kazillion other shoppers would be there but as mentioned before the situation had become dire.
Loaded with good intentions and reminding myself that nothing would "disturb my calm" (a saying I happily adopted from a character (Jayne) in favorite sci-fi show of ours Firefly). I ventured onward. So far, so good, as it was still early in the day. There was a Choir of sweet cherubs singing and the crazy crowds had not left their native habitats yet.
I checked on a few Christmas gifts, picked up tights for my granddaughter and was feeling very empowered by the whole experience, even wishing a fellow shopper a "Happy Holiday".
Then it was time for the dressing room.
Tell me what are the odds of getting the SAME salesperson when I have only been into this store one other time this year?? I should wish for such odds and play the lottery that's all I have to say about that. So I KNOW what style I like, and let's face it ladies bras are an EXTREMELY unique item to purchase. The wrong fit could leave one black and blue, or worse make ones breasts look like torpedoes or a cantaloupe...(you get the idea) therefore STYLE, PROPER FIT and of course $$ are all important items to take into account.
I researched the brand I usually get and decided to actually try on a different STYLE.
Open the floodgates of retail opportunity for my salesperson! She now held me captive in a dressing room with "other" STYLES that would most surely not only fit well but help me to feel super sexy.
Seriously how many people see you in a bra?? O.K. Maybe that is too personal of a question. So I realize it is time to make a decision and get the heck out of the room when she hands over not one but two different style of "very beautiful" bras that cost $125... EACH!!
Now I am used to spending a bit more for my bras, much more than most women I would guess, but seriously $125?! For that amount one would think that it not only offers support and sexiness but also massage, skin conditioning and an overall euphoric experience for my breasts.
I passed them by.
Guess good old practicality and plain jane-ness won out. My breasts might not be having the ultimate bra experience but I bet I can find some other fun way to spend the $ I saved.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
A Holiday Afternoon Tea
Fancy teacups.
Scones with strawberry jam and cream.
Little sugar cubes.
Tea.
Doilies.
Dresses.
Finger sandwiches.
Grapes.
Six young ladies.
Holiday music (playing softly in background)
Hopefully a fond moment for my granddaughters and their friends as we welcome in this season of Joy.
(but then again sisters are involved and things could go any which way!)
Scones with strawberry jam and cream.
Little sugar cubes.
Tea.
Doilies.
Dresses.
Finger sandwiches.
Grapes.
Six young ladies.
Holiday music (playing softly in background)
Hopefully a fond moment for my granddaughters and their friends as we welcome in this season of Joy.
(but then again sisters are involved and things could go any which way!)
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
A Few Thoughts on Poinsettas and Being Present
It's official. Two beautiful poinsettias have made their way to our little cottage, my Johnson Bros "Merry Christmas" plates are unpacked, and I am enjoying my first cup of Stumptown coffee in one of the mugs that has a picture of a candle lit tree in front of a fireplace.
Nice.
Autumn is truly my favorite time of year and this year in particular seemed to make its appearance and then be over with much too quickly. That being said, I am extremely thankful for the holly-day season that help to fill the colder, bleaker days with wonder and fun while the last of the leaves make their way to the ground. It is also the perfect time of year to practice being "present" as well as initiating a state of perplexedly within myself. My daily "to do" list is usually quite full. Add to that all of the wonderful things that one would like do do during this special season, being able to stay "present" and enjoy every moment with our loved ones and friends is easier said than done. However I believe it IS possible and so worth it! The days of the season then contribute to our mental stash of fond recollections instead of despair over what could-of, should-of, might-of happened differently.
What about holiday music?
I would take a guess that the majority of people dread when their favorite radio station becomes overtaken by scores of "Jolly-Holly" music.
It doesn't have to be that way! I treat myself each year to a new CD (this year it's Pink Martini's new Joy to the World album) and then rely on Pandora (it's free on your computer) to supplement. That's right, you are the DJ that chooses the music that suits your soul and spirit. I have come up with a few stations that are just right for me. Chanticleer (Holiday) and Winter Solstice Radio both play quiet reflective, Gregorian type of music, reminiscent of what one might hear as they quietly slip into an old church on a Christmas Eve. I also love the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (Holiday) station. Who would think that electric guitars, violins and some very impressive drumming would create such magical Holiday music?
Every so often I need to re-read a book that helps me along with my life's journey and one that comes to mind during this time is year is The Precious Present by Spencer Johnson.
During this magical month I plan to give myself the gift the moments.
And I will embrace all of them!
Nice.
Autumn is truly my favorite time of year and this year in particular seemed to make its appearance and then be over with much too quickly. That being said, I am extremely thankful for the holly-day season that help to fill the colder, bleaker days with wonder and fun while the last of the leaves make their way to the ground. It is also the perfect time of year to practice being "present" as well as initiating a state of perplexedly within myself. My daily "to do" list is usually quite full. Add to that all of the wonderful things that one would like do do during this special season, being able to stay "present" and enjoy every moment with our loved ones and friends is easier said than done. However I believe it IS possible and so worth it! The days of the season then contribute to our mental stash of fond recollections instead of despair over what could-of, should-of, might-of happened differently.
What about holiday music?
I would take a guess that the majority of people dread when their favorite radio station becomes overtaken by scores of "Jolly-Holly" music.
It doesn't have to be that way! I treat myself each year to a new CD (this year it's Pink Martini's new Joy to the World album) and then rely on Pandora (it's free on your computer) to supplement. That's right, you are the DJ that chooses the music that suits your soul and spirit. I have come up with a few stations that are just right for me. Chanticleer (Holiday) and Winter Solstice Radio both play quiet reflective, Gregorian type of music, reminiscent of what one might hear as they quietly slip into an old church on a Christmas Eve. I also love the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (Holiday) station. Who would think that electric guitars, violins and some very impressive drumming would create such magical Holiday music?
Every so often I need to re-read a book that helps me along with my life's journey and one that comes to mind during this time is year is The Precious Present by Spencer Johnson.
During this magical month I plan to give myself the gift the moments.
And I will embrace all of them!
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
It's Spring
It's springtime here in the NW.
I need to remind myself of that.
It fascinates me to watch the plants push through the soil so that they may enjoy the sunshine, the rain and all that it means to be a living, growing entity on this planet. Less than a month ago as I began the process of pulling old dead weeds and doing some general cleaning up in the yard I wondered what would pop up. We moved into this old cottage after spring had sprung, so I had no idea what to expect.
From the appearance of things, I was not overly optimistic.
Everything looked dead and barren. Difficult to imagine lush, flowering green-ness.
We cleared away a small area where the ivy had totally "taken over", hiding planters that had once held beautiful plants and a couple other shrubs that looked barren and leafless as well. It seemed as if the ivy had won and that we were too late.
But wait...was that small buds on the lifeless appearing plants?
Life busting through to show itself after a winter of dormancy and several seasons of the ivy dominating the space.
As the soil thaws and softens around our cottage little shoots are appearing everywhere from slumbering annuals. After these last few days of sunshine and some light rain its as if they are stretching and reaching for the heavens.
I definitely need to remind myself of this miracle.
It happens every spring.
We each have a beautiful bud within our selves that may not be outwardly visible. But it's there and when the timing is right and the conditions encourage it...it can and will burst forth to fulfill it's destiny of growth and blossoming.
Wow.
I need to remind myself of that.
It fascinates me to watch the plants push through the soil so that they may enjoy the sunshine, the rain and all that it means to be a living, growing entity on this planet. Less than a month ago as I began the process of pulling old dead weeds and doing some general cleaning up in the yard I wondered what would pop up. We moved into this old cottage after spring had sprung, so I had no idea what to expect.
From the appearance of things, I was not overly optimistic.
Everything looked dead and barren. Difficult to imagine lush, flowering green-ness.
We cleared away a small area where the ivy had totally "taken over", hiding planters that had once held beautiful plants and a couple other shrubs that looked barren and leafless as well. It seemed as if the ivy had won and that we were too late.
But wait...was that small buds on the lifeless appearing plants?
Life busting through to show itself after a winter of dormancy and several seasons of the ivy dominating the space.
As the soil thaws and softens around our cottage little shoots are appearing everywhere from slumbering annuals. After these last few days of sunshine and some light rain its as if they are stretching and reaching for the heavens.
I definitely need to remind myself of this miracle.
It happens every spring.
We each have a beautiful bud within our selves that may not be outwardly visible. But it's there and when the timing is right and the conditions encourage it...it can and will burst forth to fulfill it's destiny of growth and blossoming.
Wow.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Faith
Faith.
It comes in all shapes and sizes. Some folks have it. Some do not. Some (like me) have it occasionally and question where it has gone when it is needed most.
My grandparents (of Mexican heritage) had a STRONG sense of faith. It was evident in everything they did. Their home had crosses, bibles and rosaries in each room, and more importantly it was demonstrated in how they lived. Granted it (their faith) seemed to be a a tad bit fearful to me at times, but it also seemed loving and protective as well.
Granma Chavez KNEW God would take care of everything. Period. Our job as humans was to not screw things up and piss him off. I remember her telling my brothers that their black light poster of Jimi Hendrix hung up in their room would most surely bring the wrath of God down upon them and cause them to turn to the devil,use drugs and do other crazy things.
I was usually exempt from any of the you are going to hell and damnation talk. My grandparents allowed me to see the softer, more nurturing side of their faith. Maybe that was the side I wanted to see as well?
I especially loved the quiet way my grandfather blessed his morning coffee and sugar. He would whisper a few words and wave his hand with the sign of a cross over his cup. Then he would repeat the ritual and bless the toast and jam and of course blessed the fact that I was sitting there beside them for a morning cup of coffee.
I liked that part of their religion.
We never blessed anything in our house growing up and in fact were not permitted to even THINK that that could be a "higher source of power" (other than my father).
So the fact that my grandfather blessed his morning toast and coffee and me was pretty cool to observe.
They (my grandparents) had always been Catholic, until they decided to join the Pentecostal "church". It sort of freaked out most of the family as it appeared to change their belief system a bit. And cost them alot more money.
However I have always felt (even at a young age) that one's spiritual journey cannot be dictated by others.
Despite the change of church affiliation my grandparents FAITH remained strong and loving (to me at least) for the duration of their lives.
Their car had a bumper sticker that said that "God was their Co-Pilot".
Thank goodness because as they got older they sure needed someone who knew what they were doing as they navigated their car through the streets and freeways in Arizona!
It comes in all shapes and sizes. Some folks have it. Some do not. Some (like me) have it occasionally and question where it has gone when it is needed most.
My grandparents (of Mexican heritage) had a STRONG sense of faith. It was evident in everything they did. Their home had crosses, bibles and rosaries in each room, and more importantly it was demonstrated in how they lived. Granted it (their faith) seemed to be a a tad bit fearful to me at times, but it also seemed loving and protective as well.
Granma Chavez KNEW God would take care of everything. Period. Our job as humans was to not screw things up and piss him off. I remember her telling my brothers that their black light poster of Jimi Hendrix hung up in their room would most surely bring the wrath of God down upon them and cause them to turn to the devil,use drugs and do other crazy things.
I was usually exempt from any of the you are going to hell and damnation talk. My grandparents allowed me to see the softer, more nurturing side of their faith. Maybe that was the side I wanted to see as well?
I especially loved the quiet way my grandfather blessed his morning coffee and sugar. He would whisper a few words and wave his hand with the sign of a cross over his cup. Then he would repeat the ritual and bless the toast and jam and of course blessed the fact that I was sitting there beside them for a morning cup of coffee.
I liked that part of their religion.
We never blessed anything in our house growing up and in fact were not permitted to even THINK that that could be a "higher source of power" (other than my father).
So the fact that my grandfather blessed his morning toast and coffee and me was pretty cool to observe.
They (my grandparents) had always been Catholic, until they decided to join the Pentecostal "church". It sort of freaked out most of the family as it appeared to change their belief system a bit. And cost them alot more money.
However I have always felt (even at a young age) that one's spiritual journey cannot be dictated by others.
Despite the change of church affiliation my grandparents FAITH remained strong and loving (to me at least) for the duration of their lives.
Their car had a bumper sticker that said that "God was their Co-Pilot".
Thank goodness because as they got older they sure needed someone who knew what they were doing as they navigated their car through the streets and freeways in Arizona!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Jobs That I Have Held
I just received yet another, "Sorry you do not have the qualifications that are needed for this job" notices. It was for a friggin cashier job!! I can smile, I can tally up items, I don't drool in public why I can even count back change the old school way!
Not qualified.
It seems amazing that I find myself in this situation since I had been gamefully employed for 37 years! And not just at one occupation either.
My very first job was working for my older brother who mowed lawns on weekends. Our dad let him use our super nice, put it in gear and it drives itself all you have to do is steer it, lawn mower. He would make $5 a lawn. He hired me to be the "official edger and sweeper of sidewalks" oh, an maybe run around and pick up the extra tuffs of grass the lawn mower left behind. For this very physical part of the lawn service that he provided I earned 50 cents. That's right 50 cents. Thank goodness back then 50 cents went fairly far at the candy counter in Sprouse-Ritz. While that position did not inflate my piggy bank it did instill a strong work ethic that would at times plague me throughout my work history.
NO MATTER WHAT I GOT PAID, OR IF I WAS WORKING FOR THE BIGGEST JERK IN THE WORLD I WOULD ALWAYS DO MY BEST.
I didn't baby-sit much, diapers caused me a lot of grief, so my next job was at a Cafeteria style restaurant. The older people would ask me to please dish up a bit more, and the owner would come and level off the peas and say we aren't giving it away! I did not last long there. I then became the first girl chicken cook at Kentucky Fried Chicken. What an honor. I loved that job. I got to take home lots of left overs, my brother (the younger one) LOVED the way I always smelled like fried chicken. I usually would take some chicken to some friends whose mother was too busy selling/using drugs to ever have actual food in their house. After that I worked for a nice man named Harley who owned a gas station. I changed/cleaned and gapped spark plugs there and pumped gas (when they had it). It was during the "gas shortages" of the 70's and some days we could only pump for one hour.
Good times.
As I wander down the memory lane of my work history I realize I might expedite things by listing jobs that I have held in the style that Johnny Cash did in that song he sang about the car he built from stolen parts? When he went to register the vehicle he just had to sing out all of the years that it was.
Guess I will "sing" all of the jobs I have held to the best of my recollection and in chronological order. Here goes:
Lawn Care Assistant
Baby-sitter
Gas Station Attendant
Server~Furrs Cafeteria
Kentucky Fried Chicken Cook
Montgomery Wards~ Salesgirl in the "Missy Dept"
Bank Teller
School Bus Driver
Freelance Writer (primarily interviews of people who think they are interesting)
Teacher Aide
Substitute teacher K-12
Community Relations Director Chamber of Commerce
Bookseller/Barista
Phone line operator at a hotel
"Temp" (this had me loading trucks at a Walgreen's loading dock and filing papers at a loan shark place)
Attendance Secretary at a Charter High School
Server at an exclusive Golf Club
Barista/cook at a coffee shop
Salesperson at a fancy department store (holly-day help)
Medical Supply Salesperson
Waitress at a not as nice golf resort
Starbuckian Barisita
Teacher Aide to some very smart 10th graders
Flower delivery person
Manager of Gift Shop
Barista (did this one for free drinks instead of pay)
Owner (for much too short of a time in my life) of a fantastic coffee place
Barista/manager
Drive-up Espresso Barista
Boys and Girls Club Assistant Cook/Teen educator
Vitamin Sales person
R/V washer ($1 a foot) what a deal!
Receptionist at a fancy spa/salon (owner nicknamed Cruella DeVille)
Server at a greasy spoon "landmark" cafe...
After all of these "work experiences" I find myself not even being able to get an interview for a grocery cashier position! I owned my own coffee shop less than eight years ago, and I recently was asked if I even remembered what an espresso drink was and how to make it.
My wallet and non-existent savings dictates that I better forget all of these wonderful? memories of jobs that I have held and get busy finding a publisher.
Not qualified.
It seems amazing that I find myself in this situation since I had been gamefully employed for 37 years! And not just at one occupation either.
My very first job was working for my older brother who mowed lawns on weekends. Our dad let him use our super nice, put it in gear and it drives itself all you have to do is steer it, lawn mower. He would make $5 a lawn. He hired me to be the "official edger and sweeper of sidewalks" oh, an maybe run around and pick up the extra tuffs of grass the lawn mower left behind. For this very physical part of the lawn service that he provided I earned 50 cents. That's right 50 cents. Thank goodness back then 50 cents went fairly far at the candy counter in Sprouse-Ritz. While that position did not inflate my piggy bank it did instill a strong work ethic that would at times plague me throughout my work history.
NO MATTER WHAT I GOT PAID, OR IF I WAS WORKING FOR THE BIGGEST JERK IN THE WORLD I WOULD ALWAYS DO MY BEST.
I didn't baby-sit much, diapers caused me a lot of grief, so my next job was at a Cafeteria style restaurant. The older people would ask me to please dish up a bit more, and the owner would come and level off the peas and say we aren't giving it away! I did not last long there. I then became the first girl chicken cook at Kentucky Fried Chicken. What an honor. I loved that job. I got to take home lots of left overs, my brother (the younger one) LOVED the way I always smelled like fried chicken. I usually would take some chicken to some friends whose mother was too busy selling/using drugs to ever have actual food in their house. After that I worked for a nice man named Harley who owned a gas station. I changed/cleaned and gapped spark plugs there and pumped gas (when they had it). It was during the "gas shortages" of the 70's and some days we could only pump for one hour.
Good times.
As I wander down the memory lane of my work history I realize I might expedite things by listing jobs that I have held in the style that Johnny Cash did in that song he sang about the car he built from stolen parts? When he went to register the vehicle he just had to sing out all of the years that it was.
Guess I will "sing" all of the jobs I have held to the best of my recollection and in chronological order. Here goes:
Lawn Care Assistant
Baby-sitter
Gas Station Attendant
Server~Furrs Cafeteria
Kentucky Fried Chicken Cook
Montgomery Wards~ Salesgirl in the "Missy Dept"
Bank Teller
School Bus Driver
Freelance Writer (primarily interviews of people who think they are interesting)
Teacher Aide
Substitute teacher K-12
Community Relations Director Chamber of Commerce
Bookseller/Barista
Phone line operator at a hotel
"Temp" (this had me loading trucks at a Walgreen's loading dock and filing papers at a loan shark place)
Attendance Secretary at a Charter High School
Server at an exclusive Golf Club
Barista/cook at a coffee shop
Salesperson at a fancy department store (holly-day help)
Medical Supply Salesperson
Waitress at a not as nice golf resort
Starbuckian Barisita
Teacher Aide to some very smart 10th graders
Flower delivery person
Manager of Gift Shop
Barista (did this one for free drinks instead of pay)
Owner (for much too short of a time in my life) of a fantastic coffee place
Barista/manager
Drive-up Espresso Barista
Boys and Girls Club Assistant Cook/Teen educator
Vitamin Sales person
R/V washer ($1 a foot) what a deal!
Receptionist at a fancy spa/salon (owner nicknamed Cruella DeVille)
Server at a greasy spoon "landmark" cafe...
After all of these "work experiences" I find myself not even being able to get an interview for a grocery cashier position! I owned my own coffee shop less than eight years ago, and I recently was asked if I even remembered what an espresso drink was and how to make it.
My wallet and non-existent savings dictates that I better forget all of these wonderful? memories of jobs that I have held and get busy finding a publisher.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Spontaneous Memories
Spontaneous memories. They happen when you least expect it. Guess that's why they are spontaneous.
I had one this morning.
We were at Floyds, one of our favorite coffee stops. (lucky for us coffee junkies there are many of them here in Portland)
Back to the spontaneous memory... we are sipping our "fluffy" 16 oz latte and in walks a mailman wearing a pith? helmet. I think that's what they are called. Immediately my mind flashes back to the 60's and my residence at the time in Anaheim, California and a little girl who spent alot of time home alone sick. (that would be me)
We had the NICEST MAILMAN EVER. He wore one of those type of hats (pith?) and pushed a cart full of our neighborhoods mail up and down the "keyholes" in that small suberb of Los Angeles. It is almost always sunny in southern California, and when it rained he had a little plastic baggie type thing to keep his pith dry. Oh~and for those of you who do no know what a "keyhole" is, that is what we used to call a cul-de-sac a back then. Well, the shape of it sort of resembles a keyhole doesn't it and it sure sounded better than "dead end"?
O.K. back to the NICEST MAILMAN EVER. I wasn't allowed to open the door to anyone when I was home by myself so to pass the hours in between watching Captain Kangaroo and the Beany and Cecil Show I would wait by the door for the mail to arrive. We had one of those slots that he shoved the mail through. My intention was to freak him out by talking (in an eerie voice of course) to him while he was shoving the mail in our door.
Except he never would get freaked. He was much too kind, too easy going. He would ask how I was doing and tell me to feel better. He knew all of our names.
I think his name was Barney or something like that. All I know is that for the ten years that he delivered our mail he always had a kind word for all of us ruffians that terrorized the keyhole.
Now the ice cream man was another story...
I had one this morning.
We were at Floyds, one of our favorite coffee stops. (lucky for us coffee junkies there are many of them here in Portland)
Back to the spontaneous memory... we are sipping our "fluffy" 16 oz latte and in walks a mailman wearing a pith? helmet. I think that's what they are called. Immediately my mind flashes back to the 60's and my residence at the time in Anaheim, California and a little girl who spent alot of time home alone sick. (that would be me)
We had the NICEST MAILMAN EVER. He wore one of those type of hats (pith?) and pushed a cart full of our neighborhoods mail up and down the "keyholes" in that small suberb of Los Angeles. It is almost always sunny in southern California, and when it rained he had a little plastic baggie type thing to keep his pith dry. Oh~and for those of you who do no know what a "keyhole" is, that is what we used to call a cul-de-sac a back then. Well, the shape of it sort of resembles a keyhole doesn't it and it sure sounded better than "dead end"?
O.K. back to the NICEST MAILMAN EVER. I wasn't allowed to open the door to anyone when I was home by myself so to pass the hours in between watching Captain Kangaroo and the Beany and Cecil Show I would wait by the door for the mail to arrive. We had one of those slots that he shoved the mail through. My intention was to freak him out by talking (in an eerie voice of course) to him while he was shoving the mail in our door.
Except he never would get freaked. He was much too kind, too easy going. He would ask how I was doing and tell me to feel better. He knew all of our names.
I think his name was Barney or something like that. All I know is that for the ten years that he delivered our mail he always had a kind word for all of us ruffians that terrorized the keyhole.
Now the ice cream man was another story...
Monday, December 14, 2009
Christmas Eve at My Aunt Chita's
Christmas Eve at my Aunt Chita's house was THE place to be, at least the place I always wanted to be. I KNEW I could count on certain things to happen. Since we usually lived in a different state, the times I was lucky enough to be there it was if I became an instant celebrity. EVERYONE (that being more cousins than I could keep count of) stopped by my aunt's house on Christmas Eve for her "open casa". When they heard that we were in town as well then I could be assured of plenty of squeals and hugs. Who needs presents when a child starving for love got more than she could ever wish for at my Aunt Chita's? It's funny how Christmas memories can blur together however the ones that I was lucky enough to spend at my aunt and uncle's house are unblurable.
She liked no I should say LOVED Christmas decorations. Every inch of her small home would be decorated, including elves, snowmen and reindeer in the bathroom! One year my parents hung glass ornaments from the ceiling at our house in California. My aunt liked it so much that she adopted the same idea. (I personally always liked staring up at them and seeing my face look all goofy)
It was always very comforting to me to could count on the decorations, the family, the FOOD (especially the tamales) and her saying every year that "THIS IS THE LAST YEAR I'M GOING TO DO THIS". Christmas Eve at my Aunt Chita's is what I like to muse about especially when I hear folks getting all frustrated about the shopping they have to do, the crowds, the this the that.
Thank you auntie for the very special place it has in my heart.
I miss it as I do you.
She liked no I should say LOVED Christmas decorations. Every inch of her small home would be decorated, including elves, snowmen and reindeer in the bathroom! One year my parents hung glass ornaments from the ceiling at our house in California. My aunt liked it so much that she adopted the same idea. (I personally always liked staring up at them and seeing my face look all goofy)
It was always very comforting to me to could count on the decorations, the family, the FOOD (especially the tamales) and her saying every year that "THIS IS THE LAST YEAR I'M GOING TO DO THIS". Christmas Eve at my Aunt Chita's is what I like to muse about especially when I hear folks getting all frustrated about the shopping they have to do, the crowds, the this the that.
Thank you auntie for the very special place it has in my heart.
I miss it as I do you.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
THANKS-GIVING Two Wonderful Words
Thanks-Giving
I am going to try an old standby that teachers use when they need to have their young students do a language assignment around the holidays. They tell their students to write a "poem" beginning with the first letter of the word (this would be Thanks-giving in my case).
Luckily I will NOT be grading myself on this little exercise.
T his is my favorite time of year when leaves whirl, swirl and blow crazily about creating the best kind of messiness.
H ow can I show my gratitude?
A m I living my life to it's fullest potential?
N uts remind me of the fall season.
K ites also remind me of this time of year, and Kindness, (which we could use more of).
S hucks, this is more difficult than I thought...glad I am not grading myself, at least I would remember to be kind.
G reat ideas become truly magnificent when allowed to emerge and take flight.
I hope that by this time next year I am not fiddling around with a word game such as this and am being magnificent with my dreams.
V is an interesting letter, I personally love the letter Z however I have a "V" here which reminds me of Voting and how grateful I am that the people of our country voted the way they did the last Presidential election. YES WE CAN.
I nteresting the way my thoughts have bounced around here, I hope to stay committed and involved in doing what I can to help this be a better world.
N o more excuses...(that's from Wayne Dyer's latest book)
G ive...may I do that more, for it is in Giving that we truly receive.
God bless us everyone.
Happy ThanksGiving.
I am going to try an old standby that teachers use when they need to have their young students do a language assignment around the holidays. They tell their students to write a "poem" beginning with the first letter of the word (this would be Thanks-giving in my case).
Luckily I will NOT be grading myself on this little exercise.
T his is my favorite time of year when leaves whirl, swirl and blow crazily about creating the best kind of messiness.
H ow can I show my gratitude?
A m I living my life to it's fullest potential?
N uts remind me of the fall season.
K ites also remind me of this time of year, and Kindness, (which we could use more of).
S hucks, this is more difficult than I thought...glad I am not grading myself, at least I would remember to be kind.
G reat ideas become truly magnificent when allowed to emerge and take flight.
I hope that by this time next year I am not fiddling around with a word game such as this and am being magnificent with my dreams.
V is an interesting letter, I personally love the letter Z however I have a "V" here which reminds me of Voting and how grateful I am that the people of our country voted the way they did the last Presidential election. YES WE CAN.
I nteresting the way my thoughts have bounced around here, I hope to stay committed and involved in doing what I can to help this be a better world.
N o more excuses...(that's from Wayne Dyer's latest book)
G ive...may I do that more, for it is in Giving that we truly receive.
God bless us everyone.
Happy ThanksGiving.
Friday, November 20, 2009
A Trail of Ant Tears
So what am I supposed to do? It is November and these itty bitty little black ants have decided to invade my kitchen space.
I do not like to kill.
Anything.
However, I also do not like four legged insects cruising all around my cooking/eating space.
These little guys aren't taking any food, but they are in my dishwasher, on the counter, marching on and on and on to some undisclosed location.
And some of them are not making it home because I am killing them.
I had hoped that they would figure out that some of them were not making it back to wherever they were headed to, and then perhaps put out an alarm to each other with a warning to STAY OFF OF THIS LADIES COUNTER AND OUT OF HER DISHWASHER.
It hasn't happened yet.
I am calling it the "Trail of Tears" because like I mentioned before I do not like to kill anything and I am just smooshing them and then rinsing them off down into the drain. I also confess that I have windexed them. They are much too small to try and relocate to an outside destination (something that I did try and do during the summer months).
I have no idea if they scream in agony, or if they travel in families...in fact, as a child one of my favorite stories of all times was called "The City Under the Back Steps" and it was about, you guessed it...Ants.
Maybe I should go to confession or something like that as I obviously feel bad about this situation. I have asked my guides/angels to PLEASE make them stay away as this is really starting to depress me.
My Trail of Ant Tears.
I do not like to kill.
Anything.
However, I also do not like four legged insects cruising all around my cooking/eating space.
These little guys aren't taking any food, but they are in my dishwasher, on the counter, marching on and on and on to some undisclosed location.
And some of them are not making it home because I am killing them.
I had hoped that they would figure out that some of them were not making it back to wherever they were headed to, and then perhaps put out an alarm to each other with a warning to STAY OFF OF THIS LADIES COUNTER AND OUT OF HER DISHWASHER.
It hasn't happened yet.
I am calling it the "Trail of Tears" because like I mentioned before I do not like to kill anything and I am just smooshing them and then rinsing them off down into the drain. I also confess that I have windexed them. They are much too small to try and relocate to an outside destination (something that I did try and do during the summer months).
I have no idea if they scream in agony, or if they travel in families...in fact, as a child one of my favorite stories of all times was called "The City Under the Back Steps" and it was about, you guessed it...Ants.
Maybe I should go to confession or something like that as I obviously feel bad about this situation. I have asked my guides/angels to PLEASE make them stay away as this is really starting to depress me.
My Trail of Ant Tears.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Drugstores
Are they even called that anymore? I know they exist...I go in one every time I need an RX filled, and the amazement I feel each time I walk through the doors never ceases. Amazement that a person can find just about anything they could EVER need/want/dream of IN ONE STORE.
And for only $9.99!
Looking to add a bit of zen-like feng shui to your environment? Buy a fountain for only $9.99. Add $2 bucks to that price and it will emit mood fog and play Gregorian chants by the chipmunks as well.
Need something new to wear? You can purchase five t-shirts (different colors!) for only $9.99.
Want a souvenir from someplace? The travel isle offers shot glasses, spoons and key chains. They even offer from neighboring states or countries, just in case you forgot to pick something up during your wordly travels.
How about FOOD? Candy, chips, soda, milk, hard boiled eggs, Jimmy Dean sausages are plentiful, did I mention candy?? Unfortunately dark chocolates usually cannot be located in a drugstore.
Want to beautify yourself? One stop shopping in that department. Pick up a magazine, and read all about it, then tootle over to the make-up department and wah-lah instantaneous beautification can be yours.
And smell good...the drugstore has you covered there, from deodorant to fancy perfumes/aftershaves and colognes. And only $9.99 each!!
Suffice to say that drugstores are not given the kudos they deserve.
Brings to mind the lyrics from a song from the sixties called "DOWNTOWN" by Petula Clark. "When your alone and life is making you lonely, You can always go Downtown. When you've got worries..."
You can always go...to Walgreens.
And for only $9.99!
Looking to add a bit of zen-like feng shui to your environment? Buy a fountain for only $9.99. Add $2 bucks to that price and it will emit mood fog and play Gregorian chants by the chipmunks as well.
Need something new to wear? You can purchase five t-shirts (different colors!) for only $9.99.
Want a souvenir from someplace? The travel isle offers shot glasses, spoons and key chains. They even offer from neighboring states or countries, just in case you forgot to pick something up during your wordly travels.
How about FOOD? Candy, chips, soda, milk, hard boiled eggs, Jimmy Dean sausages are plentiful, did I mention candy?? Unfortunately dark chocolates usually cannot be located in a drugstore.
Want to beautify yourself? One stop shopping in that department. Pick up a magazine, and read all about it, then tootle over to the make-up department and wah-lah instantaneous beautification can be yours.
And smell good...the drugstore has you covered there, from deodorant to fancy perfumes/aftershaves and colognes. And only $9.99 each!!
Suffice to say that drugstores are not given the kudos they deserve.
Brings to mind the lyrics from a song from the sixties called "DOWNTOWN" by Petula Clark. "When your alone and life is making you lonely, You can always go Downtown. When you've got worries..."
You can always go...to Walgreens.
Monday, October 12, 2009
My 1995 Buick is Dead
So it finally happened, at least I think it did. My 1995 Buick Regal 4 door Sedan died. 241,000 miles and she was one tired car. Just to make sure we do have a "second opinion" stopping by to listen to the old gal to see if she is as bad as it sounds. She is making lots of LOUD grinding, won't idle, spewing up steam sounds.
It does not look good.
She took care of me to the very end. Broke down just one mile away from the cottage. Now she sits in the driveway awaiting the "second opinion". I emptied out my belongings because deep down I know I will not drive her again.I cleaned her up one last time reflecting on how good of car she truly had been.
She (I never gave her a specific name) was a gift from some good friends who knew I really needed a car. I had set my sights on a cool little motorcycle, however, they stepped in and just gave me the car...title and all. My dog Lucy was happy that I got the car instead of the bike. I have to admit she was not my "style" except that she was free so I guess the universe knew better than I what my "style" should be. She looked like a retired "snowbird" car, (snowbirds are OLD PEOPLE who flock to the southwest each winter in search of warmer weather). In some respects it was kind of neat to have a car that looked like that...other drivers tend to give a wide margin of error for cars driven by OLD PEOPLE. Expectations of being a good driver are much lower for a gramma-type car or as a friend liked to call it a "stealth mobile". She actually could clip along quite nicely however she didn't draw attention to herself like a sporty little red car would of, i.e. not one speeding ticket.
I remember the first decal I stuck on her in hopes of giving her a tad bit more personality. It was a cool phoenix type of bird. More were added, reflecting various parts of my life that I wished to share with the world, or at least other drivers. I especially like how the car looked when I put my surfboard on top. The first board I had was sort of strange looking, but it didn't matter, it was a a surfboard and when I strapped it on I felt a bit more alive since I knew I was on my way to scare the living crap out of myself.
The car brought out the best in people.
As I mentioned before the car was given to me. That in itself does not happen to many people. Louie and Nancy, I bet you didn't think that I would have her for 241,00 miles! Thank you for your generosity. It didn't stop there. The kind things that happened to me because of the car are almost too numerous to list. A Starbucks customer giving me $100 to help me with a move to the coast. Little did he know that the car desperately needed brakes, and I had a brother to put them on, just no money to buy the brake pads. A friend bought (via telephone and credit card #) me an alternator in a small town in Quartzsite AZ when she (the car) broke down. It was 110 degrees and some very kind people towed me to a patch of shade and put the alternator in since I did not have the money to have a mechanic install it. And that is just two instances. I had many more.
It was situations like that, that made the car so special.
The first dent was by my daughter Jessi...it wasn't a bad dent, however now she looks like she has been in a demolition derby. I have to admit I put in most of them (dents)and for that I apologize old gal...(at least your rear still looks good!). As I was vacuuming her for the last time this morning I have to pat myself on the back that no matter how beat up she looked on the outside, I always kept her clean, and kept up with the oil changes.
I will miss her, she moved me from Tucson, Arizona to Seaside, Oregon then up to Astoria,on to Portland, back down to Tuscon then returned us safely to Portland.
No wonder she got worn out. She did get vandalized once. The crummy thieves broke a rear window and got a poorly hidden purse and laptop. Lesson learned.
I actually felt a few tears as I took the last bit of personal "stuff" from the car. It was a weird looking piece of dried seaweed that was in the rear console area of the car. It was given to me by an artist when I had a coffeeshop and looked like a large sperm.
I know the car was just a bunch of nuts and bolts, metal and rubber, however the memories run deep. Friends safely carried, moves safely made.
Good bye 1995 Buick Regal 4 Door Sedan.
Hello Mini Cooper.
It does not look good.
She took care of me to the very end. Broke down just one mile away from the cottage. Now she sits in the driveway awaiting the "second opinion". I emptied out my belongings because deep down I know I will not drive her again.I cleaned her up one last time reflecting on how good of car she truly had been.
She (I never gave her a specific name) was a gift from some good friends who knew I really needed a car. I had set my sights on a cool little motorcycle, however, they stepped in and just gave me the car...title and all. My dog Lucy was happy that I got the car instead of the bike. I have to admit she was not my "style" except that she was free so I guess the universe knew better than I what my "style" should be. She looked like a retired "snowbird" car, (snowbirds are OLD PEOPLE who flock to the southwest each winter in search of warmer weather). In some respects it was kind of neat to have a car that looked like that...other drivers tend to give a wide margin of error for cars driven by OLD PEOPLE. Expectations of being a good driver are much lower for a gramma-type car or as a friend liked to call it a "stealth mobile". She actually could clip along quite nicely however she didn't draw attention to herself like a sporty little red car would of, i.e. not one speeding ticket.
I remember the first decal I stuck on her in hopes of giving her a tad bit more personality. It was a cool phoenix type of bird. More were added, reflecting various parts of my life that I wished to share with the world, or at least other drivers. I especially like how the car looked when I put my surfboard on top. The first board I had was sort of strange looking, but it didn't matter, it was a a surfboard and when I strapped it on I felt a bit more alive since I knew I was on my way to scare the living crap out of myself.
The car brought out the best in people.
As I mentioned before the car was given to me. That in itself does not happen to many people. Louie and Nancy, I bet you didn't think that I would have her for 241,00 miles! Thank you for your generosity. It didn't stop there. The kind things that happened to me because of the car are almost too numerous to list. A Starbucks customer giving me $100 to help me with a move to the coast. Little did he know that the car desperately needed brakes, and I had a brother to put them on, just no money to buy the brake pads. A friend bought (via telephone and credit card #) me an alternator in a small town in Quartzsite AZ when she (the car) broke down. It was 110 degrees and some very kind people towed me to a patch of shade and put the alternator in since I did not have the money to have a mechanic install it. And that is just two instances. I had many more.
It was situations like that, that made the car so special.
The first dent was by my daughter Jessi...it wasn't a bad dent, however now she looks like she has been in a demolition derby. I have to admit I put in most of them (dents)and for that I apologize old gal...(at least your rear still looks good!). As I was vacuuming her for the last time this morning I have to pat myself on the back that no matter how beat up she looked on the outside, I always kept her clean, and kept up with the oil changes.
I will miss her, she moved me from Tucson, Arizona to Seaside, Oregon then up to Astoria,on to Portland, back down to Tuscon then returned us safely to Portland.
No wonder she got worn out. She did get vandalized once. The crummy thieves broke a rear window and got a poorly hidden purse and laptop. Lesson learned.
I actually felt a few tears as I took the last bit of personal "stuff" from the car. It was a weird looking piece of dried seaweed that was in the rear console area of the car. It was given to me by an artist when I had a coffeeshop and looked like a large sperm.
I know the car was just a bunch of nuts and bolts, metal and rubber, however the memories run deep. Friends safely carried, moves safely made.
Good bye 1995 Buick Regal 4 Door Sedan.
Hello Mini Cooper.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Fireworks
It's the Fourth of July and certainly a time of celebration. Let me begin with the fact that I LOVE living in the United States of America and am grateful for all that I have and for all that we can be. I live in a free country where anything is possible and a person is only limited by the size of their dreams. We are an intelligent, peace loving nation (unless, perhaps you are a Republican) who have embraced the dreams of our forefathers so long ago and want to see this country rise to be one of inspiration to the rest of the free world.
Which brings me to what I want to muse about today.
Fireworks.
I know, I know, by speaking negatively about them it is if I am attacking warm apple pie and ice cream. One of my personality quirks is that I want to know WHY we do what we do. I am the type of person that when I was selected to direct our church's Sunday School Christmas play, I researched and put together a play to help the congregation learn WHY we have a green tree, and WHY we put lights up, and so on and so on...
I don't MIND doing what everyone else is doing and have done forever, however it needs to make some sort of sense to me.
When I make a pros and cons list as to why we have fireworks, the cons far outweigh the pros. The pros: memories of family get togethers watching the fireworks. Let's see I am sure their must be more. Oh yeah, the job creation for the companies that make and sell the fireworks. Let's see, perhaps overtime pay for all the people who have to work to take care of the injuries related to the fireworks. I will try to think of some more, if there are any.
Now to the cons: Noisy/they scare our pets and other animals/they burn fingers,hands/they start fires/they litter our beautiful planet/they appear to represent ROCKETS AND WAR/they freak out veterans/they are expensive.
It would be nice if, as a spiritually evolving country, we could come up with an alternative way to celebrate our freedom. Perhaps hold gatherings where people give thanks for our plentiful water and beautiful parks instead of shooting up fireworks that literally terrorize animals, litter the planet and all for a moment of visual pleasure. Perhaps people could take a look around and notice the natural beauty that surrounds them. And if what they see lacks beauty then maybe a group effort to help to create something beautiful would be the ultimate thanks and celebration. Think about it, we are using visual reminders of WAR and DESTRUCTION to celebrate our Independence and birth of a country. I would like to think that we could do better.
Maybe a baby start would bet eliminating all private fireworks and just having large displays? If they are over water then only the fish will be terrorized and polluted.
It's a thought.
Which brings me to what I want to muse about today.
Fireworks.
I know, I know, by speaking negatively about them it is if I am attacking warm apple pie and ice cream. One of my personality quirks is that I want to know WHY we do what we do. I am the type of person that when I was selected to direct our church's Sunday School Christmas play, I researched and put together a play to help the congregation learn WHY we have a green tree, and WHY we put lights up, and so on and so on...
I don't MIND doing what everyone else is doing and have done forever, however it needs to make some sort of sense to me.
When I make a pros and cons list as to why we have fireworks, the cons far outweigh the pros. The pros: memories of family get togethers watching the fireworks. Let's see I am sure their must be more. Oh yeah, the job creation for the companies that make and sell the fireworks. Let's see, perhaps overtime pay for all the people who have to work to take care of the injuries related to the fireworks. I will try to think of some more, if there are any.
Now to the cons: Noisy/they scare our pets and other animals/they burn fingers,hands/they start fires/they litter our beautiful planet/they appear to represent ROCKETS AND WAR/they freak out veterans/they are expensive.
It would be nice if, as a spiritually evolving country, we could come up with an alternative way to celebrate our freedom. Perhaps hold gatherings where people give thanks for our plentiful water and beautiful parks instead of shooting up fireworks that literally terrorize animals, litter the planet and all for a moment of visual pleasure. Perhaps people could take a look around and notice the natural beauty that surrounds them. And if what they see lacks beauty then maybe a group effort to help to create something beautiful would be the ultimate thanks and celebration. Think about it, we are using visual reminders of WAR and DESTRUCTION to celebrate our Independence and birth of a country. I would like to think that we could do better.
Maybe a baby start would bet eliminating all private fireworks and just having large displays? If they are over water then only the fish will be terrorized and polluted.
It's a thought.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
HUMANS!!!!
It's time for a bit of a rant...maybe I have said this before but it is REALLY DIFFICULT to be a spiritual warrior when a person is SURROUNDED by greedy, insensitive HUMANS!
Not all humans that I encounter fall into the aforementioned category. This rant is not about them.
I believe I blogged about my love of sampling. I just returned from a visit to one of my favorite "natural" stores and as usual they had some good samples out! Delicious pears, gelato, they even had little pieces of imported English white cheddar cheese. There were FIVE little chunks just sitting there, tempting us shoppers. I was politely waiting to try one of the little buggers and the lady in front of me somehow managed to SWOOP UP ALL FIVE OF THEM!! She carefully put them in the palm of her hand, not making eye contact with those of us waiting to try one. May BAD CHEESE KARMA follow her! (I know, I know that is NOT the way of a spiritually enlightened person...but she took FIVE FRIGGIN PIECES!!!
While I am ranting I will bring up my latest dealings with Craigslist. Firstly, I LOVE Craigslist! I consider myself a practically professional Craigslister.
To make a long story very short, I bought a screen door, we painted it, went to hang it up and realized I totally blew it and got the wrong size! We are out like $65 so I figure I might as well try and recoup as much as possible by trying to sell the new door on Craigslist. I am offering a deal..it's new, it's painted and I am asking $45. A seemingly nice man in a very nice newer SUV came and bought it...OOPS he is short $5...is that O.K.? I say...well alright...frankly I was happy to sell it. He did not seem like the type of joe who would purposely not bring enough $. However LATER he calls to ask what type of paint we used on the door. Trying to be a generous nice human AND wanting to give him the opportunity to actually pay my asking price for the door, (since he said he "accidently" did not bring the full amount) I tell him I will GIVE him the rest of the quart of paint, that was bought and used only on the door ($13). He said that would be awesome and he would throw in a couple of dollars for it when he came back to get the paint. I was hoping he would pay the other $5 that he skimped out on, and perhaps $2 more???
He handed my boyfriend a little wad of dollars.
Total $4.
It's just my opinion but I think he was being a bit of a schomoe! May nickle-dime karma follow him!!!
Again that isn't too spiritual of me is it?
I am working on it.
You know, being a decent HumanBean.
We did get a really nice rowing machine today off of Craigslist. It was worth the total amount they were asking, which yes, we did bring along.
Not all humans that I encounter fall into the aforementioned category. This rant is not about them.
I believe I blogged about my love of sampling. I just returned from a visit to one of my favorite "natural" stores and as usual they had some good samples out! Delicious pears, gelato, they even had little pieces of imported English white cheddar cheese. There were FIVE little chunks just sitting there, tempting us shoppers. I was politely waiting to try one of the little buggers and the lady in front of me somehow managed to SWOOP UP ALL FIVE OF THEM!! She carefully put them in the palm of her hand, not making eye contact with those of us waiting to try one. May BAD CHEESE KARMA follow her! (I know, I know that is NOT the way of a spiritually enlightened person...but she took FIVE FRIGGIN PIECES!!!
While I am ranting I will bring up my latest dealings with Craigslist. Firstly, I LOVE Craigslist! I consider myself a practically professional Craigslister.
To make a long story very short, I bought a screen door, we painted it, went to hang it up and realized I totally blew it and got the wrong size! We are out like $65 so I figure I might as well try and recoup as much as possible by trying to sell the new door on Craigslist. I am offering a deal..it's new, it's painted and I am asking $45. A seemingly nice man in a very nice newer SUV came and bought it...OOPS he is short $5...is that O.K.? I say...well alright...frankly I was happy to sell it. He did not seem like the type of joe who would purposely not bring enough $. However LATER he calls to ask what type of paint we used on the door. Trying to be a generous nice human AND wanting to give him the opportunity to actually pay my asking price for the door, (since he said he "accidently" did not bring the full amount) I tell him I will GIVE him the rest of the quart of paint, that was bought and used only on the door ($13). He said that would be awesome and he would throw in a couple of dollars for it when he came back to get the paint. I was hoping he would pay the other $5 that he skimped out on, and perhaps $2 more???
He handed my boyfriend a little wad of dollars.
Total $4.
It's just my opinion but I think he was being a bit of a schomoe! May nickle-dime karma follow him!!!
Again that isn't too spiritual of me is it?
I am working on it.
You know, being a decent HumanBean.
We did get a really nice rowing machine today off of Craigslist. It was worth the total amount they were asking, which yes, we did bring along.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
One Determined Duck
While driving the other day I had a very emotional experience.
I was in a hurry, trying to do one last errand before getting on the freeway to make it to the other side of town. Nothing unusual...and by the amount of vehicles on the road, the expressions of the drivers and the honking going on, there were many others like me with the same agenda.
I had just gotten off a four lane off-ramp, was waiting to merge onto a six lane street when I saw her.
One mama duck with six or so little ones attempting to cross the same six lane street.
I had a stop light and could see her as she scuttled, then stopped, scuttled, then stopped with her ducklings gathering near or underneath her each time she paused.
The other traffic, on my three lanes of the six lane street, was not supposed to stop and I watched with my four way flashers going as she somehow made it to the middle of the street safely.
I was going to jump out to frantically wave to make people stop, but there was no time.
She was one determined duck.
My light turned green, and I had to turn all the while holding my breath, saying whatever prayers I could to my angels, to duck angels and mama angels to help her make it across the next three lanes.
After I had run my errand I was afraid to look to see if I would see little feathers on the street.
Keep in mind this all happened at an off- ramp off of Interstate Five and at one of the busiest intersections I usually encounter AND at afternoon rush hour!
While I was looking for feathers (and very grateful to not see any evidence) I could not fatham WHY the duck HAD to take her little ones across that street to what appeared to be the Interstate??!
Only after using the on-ramp was I able to see a beautiful pond that looked like it was a "duck sanctuary" that was underneath the freeway.
So I learned a few things that day. Or at least remembered a few things.
Firstly...IF you are in traffic, driving and someone is not going when you THINK they should be going. Forget the Angry Horn!!
They could have car trouble, be having a seizure, saying a prayer or WAITING FOR A MAMA DUCK TO CROSS THE STREET WITH HER BABIES!!!
Secondly...She knew what she needed to do. Granted it appeared to be a very crazy idea, and the timing could of been better, however she needed to get her babies to the water and flying was not an option for them yet.
We all KNOW what we need to do in our own lives, and there is no guarantee that what we need to do will be easy.
I will forever remember the image of that mama duck doing what she needed to do regardless of the obstacles that appeared in her way.
She was one determined duck.
I was in a hurry, trying to do one last errand before getting on the freeway to make it to the other side of town. Nothing unusual...and by the amount of vehicles on the road, the expressions of the drivers and the honking going on, there were many others like me with the same agenda.
I had just gotten off a four lane off-ramp, was waiting to merge onto a six lane street when I saw her.
One mama duck with six or so little ones attempting to cross the same six lane street.
I had a stop light and could see her as she scuttled, then stopped, scuttled, then stopped with her ducklings gathering near or underneath her each time she paused.
The other traffic, on my three lanes of the six lane street, was not supposed to stop and I watched with my four way flashers going as she somehow made it to the middle of the street safely.
I was going to jump out to frantically wave to make people stop, but there was no time.
She was one determined duck.
My light turned green, and I had to turn all the while holding my breath, saying whatever prayers I could to my angels, to duck angels and mama angels to help her make it across the next three lanes.
After I had run my errand I was afraid to look to see if I would see little feathers on the street.
Keep in mind this all happened at an off- ramp off of Interstate Five and at one of the busiest intersections I usually encounter AND at afternoon rush hour!
While I was looking for feathers (and very grateful to not see any evidence) I could not fatham WHY the duck HAD to take her little ones across that street to what appeared to be the Interstate??!
Only after using the on-ramp was I able to see a beautiful pond that looked like it was a "duck sanctuary" that was underneath the freeway.
So I learned a few things that day. Or at least remembered a few things.
Firstly...IF you are in traffic, driving and someone is not going when you THINK they should be going. Forget the Angry Horn!!
They could have car trouble, be having a seizure, saying a prayer or WAITING FOR A MAMA DUCK TO CROSS THE STREET WITH HER BABIES!!!
Secondly...She knew what she needed to do. Granted it appeared to be a very crazy idea, and the timing could of been better, however she needed to get her babies to the water and flying was not an option for them yet.
We all KNOW what we need to do in our own lives, and there is no guarantee that what we need to do will be easy.
I will forever remember the image of that mama duck doing what she needed to do regardless of the obstacles that appeared in her way.
She was one determined duck.
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