The Realm of Infinite Possibilities

 "Go beyond the impossible and kick reason to the curb!"

Bill is one of the characters that makes up my personality! His part of me is exceedingly irreverant! Not out of disrespect or disdain. It's just that life, real life, reminds him/me of movies, books, plays or even "real life" events. 

You see, not only am I highly intuitive but I have the gift/curse of being empathic and suffer from PTSD. We use Bill's  quotes to lesson the blows we often feel when in the midst of sharing someone's pain or distress. We use the quotes to distill another's anger or hate. Bill is our safe-guard from being swept away with emotions, our own and not our own, it is often hard to distinguish the difference.

I have a flyer to create today. The flyer is a single side of an 8 x 11 sheet of paper. The aim is to edit a 7 page proposal, not counting the bibliography, down to a single sheet, without losing the message.  We will be offering a class of contemplation, a class designed to help people see the divine in the mundane, to witness the holy in every day events.

The flyer consumed every moment of this morning. Sitting with my feet in the pool, sipping tea, the crew and I discussed what to cut, what to include.  Chopping up the veggies and fruit for our juice, we discussed chopping 'this' paragraph or 'that' sentence.  Even while showering, we saw meaningful sections trailing away, down the drain, anonymous runoff to be lost in some murky water, somewhere.

Group Consensus: Creating the flyer is going to be an unreasonable and impossible task.

Sitting at my desk, I fired up the computer. Opened Word. Opened the original proposal document! Clicked on File drop down menu, then a click on 'New'; 'Blank Document'; 'Create'.

Ta Da! A barren blank white page.

"This is impossible!" I thought. The impossibility of the task echoed in my head, each member of the crew agreed. Each aspect of my personality saw the futility of accomplishing the goal and getting it to Fr. Jonathan by the end of the day.

When the echoes subsided, Bill's voice rang strong and clear.  "Go beyond the impossible and kick reason to the curb!"

Who knew Bill even knew what Anime was, let alone to quote Kamina!

"Go beyond the impossible...." Instantly we are transported to a small dark room. Sinuous drapes of gossamer silk seperate, revealing a cavernous room of possibilities.  Reason stands guard, hands on hips, legs apart, feet planted solidly in our path.

BabaMara threatens in a rich, loving voice, "Mr. Reason, How would you like to be a  pink centipede with 50 pairs of teensy-weensy roller skates on your teensy-weensy feet?"

Reason swiftly turns and runs to the curb! BabaMara has a real kick to her!

We glide into the realm of  infinite possibilities, a space just beyond the silken curtains of the impossible.

We can do this. This flyer is going to rock. Thank you, Bill, you are our hero!

"Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It is all part of the fairy tale!"

Yes, The Last Unicorn is one of Bill's favorites.

"The secret of being a hero lies in knowing the order of things. The swineherd cannot already be wed to the princess when he embarks on his adventures, nor can the boy knock on the witch's door when she is already away on vacation. The wicked uncle cannot be found our and foiled before he does something wicked...."

Okay, Bill, we get it!

"...Things must happen when it is time for them to happen. Quests may not simply be abandoned; prophecies may not be left to rot like unpicked fruit...."

Bill, we need to get to work!

"...unicorns may go unrescued for a very long time, but not forever. The happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story."

Bill, heroes fit in jelly jars, too, you know! I love the BabaMara part of me!

Bill nods, "Never run from anything immortal! It attracts their attention!"

Hippie Thoughts

When I was 16 my father drove two of my friends who were visiting from Colorado and me to San Francisco.

We made stops at the Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman's Wharf, Ghiardelli Square, and China Town.

We ate at an awesome steakhouse where historical pictures of old San Francisco adorned the walls.

I remember very little of any of that. What has embedded itself into my memories in minute detail is our drive through Haight-Ashbury and the Golden Gate Park.

The Haight was alive with energy, color and street musicians. Women were wearing gypsy skirts, bright peasant blouses, obviously bra-free! Shocking in the mid-60's. Many men sported tie-dyed shirts.

A debate raged in our car about some of the clothing. We girls thought some of the guys were dressed like Robin Hood; my dad insisted they more closely resembled Peter Pan!

One young guy in tights and long tunic with fringe down the sleeves passed very close to the car on the driver's side! He reached into his rainbow satchel and sprinkled glitter on our car, yelling "Love Dust! Make Love, Not War!"

We giggled in the backseat. Dad told us to roll up the windows!

The streets were full of chaos, people headed in every direction. A big part of me wanted to jump out of the car and join them; another part of me was relieved that I was sitting in the middle of the back seat!

The Haight was in it's full glory.  Young people tired of wars, tired of  bigotry and exploitation gathered from all over the world. Drug dealers and pimps inundated the district, taking advantage of the naive and innocent; using the passive philosophy against itself.  For years it became a place to avoid at all cost. To go in was to take the chance of disappearing, sometimes forever!

We have an expression, "I got stoned and I missed it!"

I often wonder, if the passionate activists had stayed "on task"; had kept focused on the message, what kind of world would we live in today?

Mandalas

My Mandala Blog

My summer can only be described as "crazy!"

I know, coming from me, that doesn't mean a whole lot, does it?  Attempting time management has been insane. We have had births and weddings which means showers and parties. Several road trips, company, babysitting for two gorgeous 150 pound blue-nose pit bull pups, proposals to be written and presented, elbow deep in clay, a couple of commissioned pieces, building the stock of wall rosaries and now I have been asked to paint a friend's pool house using tromp l'oiel. 

Several people have asked me for mandalas. I so want to create them, but a meaningful mandala means interviewing the person, doing the numerology, then the making of it. It takes a a lot of time to get it right.

If I could break up the crew and send them out to do the interviewing, it would really help! Or would it?

One of the friends who wants a mandala is an artist who creates wonderful pottery Goddesses and Fairies and Dragons.  Could I send Carrie-Anne to interview her? Would she ask the artist about her dreams and goals, her preferences for starry, starry nights or misty dawns? Or would Carrie-Anne fill the time inquiring about glazing techniques and kiln temperatures?

If I send BabaMara, would she just share her own stories of the Goddesses, Dragons and Fairies she has known and often traveled with.

An acquaintance who is jonesing for her own mandala is a tri-athlete. Interviews have to be conducted during stretches because that is the only time she is in one place long enough to talk. I can't conduct an interview while swimming or biking. I absolutely don't run. The only one of us who might be able to keep up with her physically is Bill (maybe). I'm not sure he wouldn't spend most of his time quoting Neil Armstrong, "I believe that every human has a finite amount of heartbeats. I don't intend to waste any of mine running around doing exercises!" or Nora Roberts, "squats are a form of torture designed by people who don't need to do squats in the first place."

Mrs. Richardson would be of no good, she would only balance their checkbooks or do their taxes. Ms. Machado is still reading Exodus Lost and is refusing to budge until the last page has been turned.
Beatrice is napping, still, and frankly, the longer she naps, the better off the world is!

I have a dilemma and the only way I know to solve it is to take a nap. Someone wake me at 10!

Swimming

Monday morning and it is already hot. I'm trying to convince the team ( I use the word loosely) to go for a morning swim.

Sinthya and BabaMara are all in, Carrie-Anne is jonesing to get back to the studio and clay, Mrs. Richardson is demanding that Monday's are for getting things accomplished, Ms. Machado is reading Exodus Lost and is absolutely refusing to be disturbed.

Bill is not interested in sitting in the heat while we enjoy the water. He doesn't get in because moisture is not good for his Marlboro hardback. He keeps it rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve and refuses to be seen without it...his image, you know! He says since the new neighbors cut all their trees down, destroying the privacy of our backyard, swimming is no longer fun! I believe he is referring to the wearing of swimsuits is required now, before we just stripped at poolside and dove in.

Have I told you that we don't like the new neighbors?  Chopped down the trees, mangled our hedge and massacred theirs and now, hammering starts at 6 or 6:30 every morning, especially Saturday and Sunday and continues until 10:300 p.m. They can stand in their windows (split level floorplan) and see everything in our pool.

I'm considering swimming in the nude just to scare the crap out of them!

Beatrice is still sleeping, which, to be honest is always a good thing. This morning, though, I am thinking that a grand cannon ball off the diving board would do her some good!

Sorry, Ms. Machado and Bill, the votes are in and swimming it is!

Google That!

Do you ever have days when your eyes are brimming with tears, your shoulders are hunched with an unknown weight and your knuckles drag on the hard ground wherever you dare to walk?

That's the day I am having. The crew has abandoned me with Beatrice and she has commented several times this morning, what a downer I am being.

Did you ever see You've Got Mail with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks? Meg Ryan plays a woman who, for a short period in the movie, is with a man who brings out the worst in her.  She can't help herself but be mean when she is with him, even though her character is a sweet, contemplative woman. Not that she doesn't have reason for being hurt or angry.

It's hard being in the company of someone you love and you are your very worst in their company. When someone inspires your deepest darkest self to reveal itself, what do you do? Like Meg Ryan in the movie, we have the right to be hurt or angry, but we don't have the right to pull others into the muck with us.

I am contemplating a trip. A long trip. Maybe I can house-sit for someone in the mountains, maybe I can take my tent and sleeping bag and stay under the stars for a little while...at least until I get nice again.

Crew come back...Beatrice is out of control!

Happily Ever After

Elbows deep in clay today. Lots of the mud under my fingernails! I love, love, love playing in dirt!

As I was rolling out a slab of clay, I thought about the princesses and fairy tales I grew up with.

Most  of the princesses were in pretty miserable states at the time of the rescues. Miraculously, some cowboy in tights trots in with sword swinging and carries the distressed damsel away.  

The blissful couples trot down a trail to happily ever after with heart shaped clouds and cheesy smiles on their horses' faces. The End. Roll Credits!

But,

Snow White had a pretty charmed life. Pretty dress,, birds and animals following her every command, room with a view.  When some other woman messes it  up for her she relocates to the forest where she meets seven delightful souls. She fixes them up with a little assistance from the forest animals. The nasty old woman stalks her and screws it up again. Obviously, Snow's mother and father never taught her that taking food from unlicensed street vendors was a bad idea!  If it hadn't been for the old biddy and her apple, Snow White really wouldn't have any need for Prince Charming.  She was doing a pretty good job of it herself. Seven men, animals to do the housework and a cottage in a forest. Hell, I should be so lucky!

Nice view, some good friends! Looks happy to me.

Briar Rose lived in a forest with 3 nanny-fairies, talked to animals, picked organic fruit off the trees and probably ingested a mushroom or two. I mean, who dances with birds and bunnies in cape and boots?  Some "prick" comes along and messes it all up and totally trashes the landscaping. Those dang spinning wheels! She had been pretty happy in the forest dancing with the wildlife until the King and Queen called her back to marry Phillip. 

Now this is what I call HAPPY!

Cinderella? Now her life was messed up! Her step-mom and step-sisters sucked big time.  She spent her days scrubbing chimneys and her bedroom was infested with rodents. She had a fairy-godmother who comes by and gives her a nice dress, slippers and a cool set of wheels. Why didn't she wish for a little cottage on the beach or a ticket to Cabo?  Talk about messed up, that fairy-godmother had some  priority issues!  Along comes some Prince with a foot fetish. He likes her tiny little feet and off they go to Happily-Ever-After-Land!

Hello!  Call your Godmother and ask her to turn evil step-mom into a toad!

In spite of all the tales of chicks who supposedly wait around to be rescued for Happyville, I think most of the women I know/knew don't/didn't spend a lot of time queuing up behind the "Happy Starts Here: Please Wait Behind The Line" sign.

I asked the crew if they ever waited around for someone to make them happy.

All but Beatrice said happiness starts with the self, everything else is just topping!

Beatrice's response? "Define Happy?"

The Freedom To Speak Your Mind

A short 4 years ago, my friend commented about my birthday. Actually, it was my next birthday she was talking about.

"Just think! You are going to be 60 next year!"

Bam! Talk about slamming into a brick wall! Me? Sixty? Never! How could it be?

I loved turning 40. The 40's were incredibly freeing in so many ways.

Fifties came and I celebrated the whole decade! After all, as Oprah says, "50 is the new 40!"

It honestly never occurred to me that 60 came after the 50's.  Couldn't I just be Fifty-ten,  then 50-11? You have to admit,  50-12 has a certain ring to it!

The last six months of my 59th year made me feel like I was on combat mission, belly on the ground, soldier crawling towards enemy lines. Pausing to dig a fox hole now and then, trying to stop time, but that big 60 kept pulling me.

What an incredible waste of 6 months! Sixties are better than the 40's and the 50's (except for the knee pain which was probably caused by creeping around on my elbows and belly for half a year).

There are so many glorious benefits to being 60-ish.

My favorite benefit of all is the freedom to speak my mind!  Not that I make comments like, "That is the most ignorant thing I've ever heard!" or "You're a special kind of stupid, aren't you?"

I do have filters, but having retired, I don't have to agree with an abusive boss! I don't have to write letters and memos that make her look kind or thoughtful. I don't have to agree with everyone sitting around the table at dinner. My heart isn't crushed if someone walks away from me when I've spoken my truth.

The next favorite benefit is that I can make a stand! If I stand alone, that's okay because I am standing up for what I believe. I can live in my own integrity!

Another favorite perk is rising out of bed at 4 a.m. to read or write or simply sip a cup of green tea and ginger.  The stripping out of my clothes and jumping back into bed around 9 or 10. Other mornings I head to the shower, brush my teeth and get out my softest, most comfy pajamas and spend the day in them.  If someone knocks at the door, I greet them completely guilt free. No shame! They can judge me all they want. I know that deep down in their souls, they wish they were in their jammies, too!

Let's see!  (tapping my make-up free chin while in deep contemplation) There are so many special boons, it is hard to choose the next favorites.

There is the make-up thing. I can get around with absolutely no make-up, if I choose. There is a natural aliveness about aging skin, the lines around the eyes that shout, "I have laughed and I have lived!"   Without foundation one can see the scar on my left temple from the spoon that stuck in my head when my brother shot sweet peas at me when we were kids. (I can write really long, run-on sentences like the previous one and people just accept it " 'cuz, bless her heart, she's old!")  Without makup I can't disguise the bump in my not-so-perfect nose. I am really proud of it; reminds me of playing street football with the boys (I was always first picked for teams. Yes, I was that good!)

Benefit Boon Blessing of being in my sixties; I can have sex as much as I want without the fear of pregnancy! (Beat that all you 30-somethings in your 5 inch spiked heels!) I can have sex where ever I want because if caught I can blame it on dementia!

Let's not forget clothing!  In your 60's you can wear whatever you want! I can wear white to weddings because I are not going to upstage the bride. I can wear skirts to work in the garden and jeans to church. I can dress to the nines to go to the drive-thru at In and Out! I can sport torn jeans and my Doobie Brothers sweatshirt to Outback.

Being in your sixties and a little bit silly appeals to all your nieces and nephews. Your nieces think you're cute and your nephews will refill your gin and tonic without any prompts!  They put extra green olives and gin in them too!

If the sixties are this good, what secrets and whimsical treats must the 70's be hiding? Seven more years and I get to unwrap that package. I won't be holding my breath though, because there are so many delicious discoveries about being in my sixties still to be made.

Discussion At Dawn

Art courtesy of diviantart.com

A writer's club I belong to did a little exercise a couple of years ago. We were to imagine being able to go back in time to visit our self at age 20. It seemed pretty straightforward and easy-peasy but after a little contemplation, I really thought hard about what I would tell myself at 10, 16 and 20.  I've also wondered what the 20-years-older-than-me would say to me today if she showed up at the front door.

Sitting by the pool early this morning, my feet in the water and a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I wondered what the members of the crew would say to their past selves. It occurred to me that a couple of them might not have been around when I was 20, so I asked them!

1. Would your 20 year old self recognize you when you first meet?

BabaMara:  "Of course I would, Honey. I am as old as the wind and the wind always recognizes itself. "

Mrs. Richardson: "You can be sure I would be too busy doing something constructive rather than sitting around looking for irresponsible adults from the future! Can we at least go to the laundry room so that I can organize the shelves while you conduct this nonsense!"

Bill: "Yes'm, old friends is always best, 'less you can catch a new one that's fit to make an old one out of." (Sarah Orn Jewet)

Ms. Machado: "Yes."

Beatrice: "Keep the ruckus down. Some of us are trying to sleep here!"

Carlie-Anne: "This sunrise reflecting on the water would be so wonderful to paint. Look at that sky! It is glorious, simply glorious.....What?.....Oh, uh, would my younger self recognize me? Yeah, maybe, probably."

Sinthya: "I will tell only if we drop the blanket and let us slip into the water for a morning swim. That's it, now toss off this silly t-shirt!  Feel the water caress your shoulders?"

We lost Sinthya in the sensuousness of warm water in the coolness of dawn.


2. Would your younger self be surprised to discover what type of work you are doing or did?

BabaMara:  "Magic is magic, my dear. I surprise myself everyday at what I am doing or can do but that I am magic does not surprise me nor would it surprise a younger me."

Mrs. Richardson: "Of course not! I have always been and will always be efficient. She would just be shocked that I teamed up with such an irresponsible, disorganized bunch of misfits! Where would you all be if it wasn't for me?"

Bill:  "I know you can get the job, but can you do the job?" (Joe vs The Volcano)

Ms. Machado:  "I was born to teach! I will always teach. What good is knowledge if it isn't shared?"

"Exactly what I think about magic!" interjected BabaMara!

Beatrice:  Loud snoring from her corner! She must have stayed under the blanket when we slipped into the pool.

Carlie-Anne: I think I would be surprised that I picked up my paints and brushes again, in fact, I am still surprised today. We still remember the critical censure of our little house with the picket fence and yellow curtains.

"What about you Sinthya? Would your younger self be surprised about what kind of work you did?

Sinthya: "Si."  Doing the backstroke!

"Would you like to elaborate?"

Sinthya: "No!"


3. What piece of fashion advice would you give your younger self?

BabaMara: "Keep it loose and flowing. We look good in blues and purples.  Large pockets; always have large pockets;  one never knows when one might find something magical that wants to come home with you. Skirts should be full for elves and brownies might need to travel with you through crowded places."

Mrs. Richardson: "Hand wash silk blouses. Never wash a linen skirt; dry clean only. Do not purchase anything that is 100% cotton, you will spend more time ironing the garment than wearing it. Always keep safety pins in your purse for the days the elastic in your panties gives out. Never wear white shoes, even after Easter, they make your feet look big...."

Bill:  "Marlboro Hardpack. Softpacks crumble...not cool!"

Ms. Machado: "Invest in pencil skirts and sweater sets, they never go out of style. Never more than a 2" heel. Keep make-up light and natural. Always have emergency feminine products in your purse."

Beatrice:  zzzZZZzzzZZZzzzZZZ

Carrie~Anne: "Wash out the paint  in your clothes before it sets. Shoes, bras and panties are optional."

Sinthya: "I shall take her shopping! Fashion is not to talk about but to experience!"


4.  What do you think your younger self is going to want to know?
 
BabaMara: "Always have a couple of large pickle jars sitting on the shelf.. Bullies will fit in jelly jars but there needs to be space for their nastiness. Remember to put holes in the lids for air but make sure the holes are tiny so the nasty doesn't leak. When you meet the man with the tall black boots, white open shirt and bronze tan, go to the forest with him. He will teach you many things. Plant the orchard. Don't plant the herbs low where the dog can pee on them. Listen to your dreams."

photo courtesy of www.inspiredgiftgiving.com

Mrs. Richardson: "When the big blue bus full of misfits stops on the corner of Morse Street and Newhall, DO NOT BOARD IT! Wait for the Downtown bus!  Always carry an eraser, a pencil and a pen and an extra battery for your watch. Check under your car and the back seat before getting in.  Don't ever, ever, ever let Carrie-Anne drive."


Bill:  "When an argument is over, you will always think of more clever shit to say."

 Ms. Machado: "Read everything you get your hands on. If it's good, read it again and again. Never lose your patience with someone who is trying. To be true to yourself you will have to get used to not being liked by some and that's okay."

Beatrice: zzzZZZZzzzzZZZZzzzZZZ

Carrie-Anne:  "You CAN BE your own boss. You CAN BE your own boss. You CAN BE your own boss. You CAN BE your own boss."

Sinthya:  "Feel! Smell! See! Dance! Sing! Make love! Dance some more! Taste! Listen! Live like you mean it!"


5. What is something that you wouldn't tell your younger self? 

BabaMara:  "There is nothing I wouldn't tell my younger self if she asks, though I might leave bits and pieces of it to find out on her own!"

Mrs. Richardson: "Honesty is the best policy."

Bill: "Hey, Mrs. R,  I was going to say that! No, I wasn't, I lied!  Ask away, Young Bill, let's find out what I wouldn't tell you!"

Ms. Machado:  "I wouldn't tell her 2 + 2 = 5! I wouldn't tell her always i before e. I wouldn't tell her that using correct grammar is unimportant. I wouldn't ever tell her that the movie will be better than the book!"

Beatrice: "Jesus!, Really, people? Could you be any louder?"

Carrie-Anne:  "Can I do that? Can I choose not to tell her something?"

Sinthya:   "Ah, I would not ruin for her the week in Barcelona with Alejandro; that she will have to experience on her own."

And with that comment, steam rises from the pool! We are going to have to ask her to tell us about Barcelona!



6. What do you think would surprise your younger self about you?

BabaMara:  "Certainly not dancing sky clad in the moonlight! Let me think...."

Mrs. Richardson:  "Nothing. We do not like surprises!"

Bill: "Well, he would certainly be surprised that I live with 7 women and I play with our breasts in the shower!....What? Is that too much?"

Ms. Machado:  "I haven't been in a Bookmobile in years and years. I lived for Thursdays when the Bookmobile would park under our cherry trees and I could choose from so many books!"

Beatrice:  "To be honest, the younger Beatrice was quiet, gentle, naive! Well, we ain't no more and that's the way we like it!"

Carrie-Anne:  "I can stand up for myself....sometimes!"

Sinthya: "Everything and Nothing! We have always been alive! We have always danced instead of sit. We sing instead of mope. We fly instead of walk."

BabaMara: "After giving it much thought, my younger self would be surprised that I don't turn men that talk to my chest, rather than my face, into toads. I used to do that a lot when I was younger!"

Finally,  #7. When did you join me on this crazy ride called life?

BabaMara: "For the record, I have been with you many life times and will accompany you in many more."

Mrs. Richardson:  "I saw you sitting in the window of a big blue bus and you looked perplexed! Thinking I might be of some assistance, I boarded the bus. Heaven help me. Little did I know that all of you were on board. Of course, that explains the look of confusion on your face as you stared out the window.

Bill: "We met the day Mr. Hall told you how to get your tongue unstuck from the gap in your teeth!  I heard your laugh and knew we were made for each other!"

Ms. Machado: Sixth grade. You were sitting at the second desk next to the window. Floating above your head was a pretty purple sign with a unicorn on it. It read:

Wanted

Life-Long-Learning Companion

 I applied and got the job!"

Beatrice: "I didn't join, I evolved! Believe me, I am not here to stay. You are all bat-shit crazy!"

Carrie-Anne: "Don't you remember? God sent me with your first pack of crayons. Sorry I broke the yellow but it was a tight fit in that little green box."

Sinthya: "Mi querido amiga, tell me please you haven't forgotten! It was amazing. I will find the journal entry.  We will read it together and, ole', you will remember the day we met with all of your heart and soul."


There you have it! Is it any wonder that I am such a hot-mess at times?  Thankfully, they are all integrated into my personality. Typically, the only problem they cause is Bill's irrelevance at inappropriate times and my inability not to respond with a smile. If Mrs. Richardson and Beatrice were in control, we would have much more control. Alas, BabaMara, Ms. Machado, Sinthya and I have way too much power in this little group! As Sinthya says, We "live like we mean it!"

 What about you? What age would you like to visit a younger you? What would you share?

Veni ~ Vidi ~ Voodoo

If you read "It Just Ain't Right" you are aware of the new neighbors attacking our tall, thick hedge between the two yards. We kept the hedge trimmed but thick and high for privacy. We came home to find it pruned back by at least 70 or 80%.

Today I mixed white paint and water 50/50 and coated the newly exposed branches and stems. Also poured a mixture of water and Vit B at their base to help with shock.

While talking to the traumatized bushes I realized that all but two of the cuts were done completely flat! Flat as a corn tortilla! Only two cuts were done on an angle!  Not one cut was done near a branch collar but smack dab in the middle of a long branch.

Ask me how much I like the new people next door? And if I tell you how much I like them, please don't tell Pope Francis!

Each of the cuts will need to be redone to prevent disease and fungus but we'll wait until fall when the plants are dormant to make the necessary cuts.

In the meantime, I am considering taking a quick trip to Barnes and Noble and picking up a Pruning for Idiots guide as a house warming gift!.


Some people should not be allowed to walk around with sharp objects...which is why I will put these hat pins away so no one gets hurt. Oh, look. There are a couple of cloth dolls. That would be a safe place for these dangerous sharp objects.

Hmm, those dolls look familiar!

Bill's quote of the day!

Dreams ~ To Be Or Not To Be

Do you still have dreams of "One Day...."?  Are your dreams still alive and pulling you towards their fruition?

My crew and I were laying in bed this morning with husband, Rex-the-border-collie and Kona and Thor, the two 150 lb blue-nose pit bull "pups"! Talk about magic! How do you get that many bodies on a king size bed and how does the bed hold up!

Bill suggested we play steamroller and the rest of us steamrollered him. Great fun but it didn't even dent his Marlboro hard-pack secured in his t-shirt sleeve. He thinks he's James Dean but, honestly, he is more Bill Murray!

The dogs went outside for morning territory staking; we call them 'the boys'. Husband staggered in to take a shower, not a morning person! That left the eight of us laying in bed thinking about dreams and trying to ignore the throbbing in our left ankle after Kona used it as a platform to dive off the bed.

Dreams seem to have a pulse to them, the romantic wouldn't-it-be-nice dreams fade in and out of mind with only momentary bursts of aspiration. There are dreams that lodge themselves in the back of your mind and occasionally clog the works by popping in just when you are about to make a big leap towards the big dream, you know, the real dream that lights your fire and drives your passion.

We stared at the ceiling and took turns sharing what makes us keep keeping on. BabaMara wants to protect the children and the earth. She wants to grow herbs and an organic garden. She has a couple of great recipes for natural scrubs and soaps. She yearns for the day that people of different religions and political parties sit together and ask, "what can we do to help each other?"

She says she wants truth to rise to the top; she wants people to live in integrity and she wants to distill her own brandy and amaretto.  She also wants to fill her empty jars with jellies and jams instead of leaving them empty and available for the times she needs to pop some hot head into one for a short time out. She would like to burn all of Sinthya's underwire bras. "If the Goddes wanted them up that high she would have created them on our shoulders!" (p.s. BabaMara cuts a tiny hole in Sinthya's new bras and pulls out the underwire. She gives the crescent shaped wire to Carrie-Anny for her clay work. Synthya has never acknowledged the subterfuge but we all think she knows and is relieved."At Ease" is always better than "Attention!").

"I just want to read Dean Koontz's Odd Thomas series!" Bill's aspirations are always so attainable.

"Odd Thomas, Odd Thomas, Odd Thomas! Can't you think about any one but yourself and Odd Thomas?" Beatrice got her knockers up again today (and without underwire!).

"Yes, yes I do. I often think of how many ways to piss you off and am often, correction, always successful! There are some really good lines in Odd Thomas books and I must study them for future Beatrice-chain-yanking!"

Ms. Machado, BabaMara and myself have joined a book club, hijacking reading-time, so Odd Thomas is going to have to wait.  Sorry, Bill.

Carly-Anne's dreams are to study art and have the time to really create. Thankfully, the crew has chosen to bake their own brownies (on occasion) and take turns with dishes, so she is in the studio every day.

Ms. Machado dreams of education. She believes a good education starts at conception. Talking to baby in vitro is very important, letting baby hear good music and reading children's books, poetry and the books of Marianne Williamson, and John Lederach's Building Peace. She believes children should be listened to and danced with, instead of parked in front of electronic babysitters. Reading should continue until 3 or 4 four years of age when baby can start taking turns reading to you.

Mrs. Richardson was not cooperative about dream-talk this morning. "We need to shower and get dressed. If someone comes to the door at find you all still in bed they would think very poorly of us! We need to vacuum and pay bills." I think she dreams of the day when the rest of the gang just complies...a dream doomed for failure.

We all agree that if someone shows up at our door at 6:30 and they are not on fire, they soon will be!

She headed to the laundry to fold clothes and Beatrice followed, complaining about the rest of us lazy-ass slouches, as well as the dogs, who have tracked dew from the yard onto the hardwood floors.

Sinthya dreams of making love in Italian Villas, Vineyards in Napa, France and New Zealand and on the A Spot beach in the moonlight (the A Spot beach is a secret space at Whiskeytown Lake). She dreams of sipping Meukow Vanilla Cognac overlooking the Mediterranean, walking down the streets of Madrid and Seville in a flowing silk dress, wearing a large floppy hat..  There are other dreams in her portfolio but this is not the arena to share such things.

I want to be an author. I have promised myself to write for two hours each day. The crew often tries to pull me away but, for the most part, I am standing my ground. Pandora's Mumford and Sons' channel plays, encouraging my fingers to dance on the keyboard.

I am a writer now and have had a couple of articles published in local rags, no  glossy pages in any of them. Though, I have had a couple of ads that I designed in glossy paged publications. My Mandala Art was featured in a Metaphysical E-zine awhile back. I imagined the pages were glossy despite the matte finish on my monitor.

I want to finish my book and see it on Amazon and Goodreads.

When people at parties walk up to me and ask, "What do you do?" Instead of responding with my usual, "Scratch where it itches," I will to answer, "I write!"

When they ask if I am published, the crew and I will answer, "But, of course!"

What are your dreams? Are they fantasies you are chasing or are you on task to make it happen?
What ignites your passion?

That's Just Not Right

Yesterday the troupe and I discovered that we live with a mad man! Mr. Steady-As-A-Rock got knocked off his axis! It was damn scary!

We have new neighbors. They bought the house next door, 4 bedroom, 3 bath, for about $200,000. Not such a good deal! It's been empty for over two years, everything that could be stolen was stolen, yard mostly dead and, turns out, there is a mad man living next door!

The people who bought it are extremely flora-challenged. They chopped down at least 5 trees in the back yard and two little trees in the front. There was an 8' hedge across the front of their yard that was at least 3' thick. Mad-man did trim the hedge back from the sidewalk this spring but it was still very thick. The flora-challenged folk hacked the hedge down to ten 3' sticks with 4 or 5 leaves at the top of each stick. Those poor sticks have never been naked, until now. They are exposed to direct sunlight in triple digit Redding heat (108 the day of the massacre). It is in the middle of a drought, extreme heat, and over 99% pruned. (Can You spell Shock and Trauma?)

Don't bother looking up Shrubbery Protective Services in your phone book or Google. It's a sad world we live in.

As we pull in to our driveway yesterday after church, the flora-challenged (wait, that's a lot to say each time I speak of those people; let's just call them the idiots!)

We pull into driveway and one of the idiots is standing on our lawn, attacking our 6' bushes with cutting tools. She had already cut away about 70% of the greenery, leaving the trunks exposed to sun.
Bye-bye privacy screen.

Mad-man slammed on brakes, and was out of the car before we came to a complete stop!

"What are you doing?" he yelled to idiot.

"Trimming my bushes!" she smiled back.

"Those are my bushes!" yelled red-faced Mad-man.  (Mad-man never gets red-faced....ever!)

"Well, I am just helping you!" Idiot kept clipping away at greenery.

"I don't want your help!" Mad-man actually got louder  (Mad-man never gets loud....ever!)

"But see, here,"  clip, clip, clip, "and here" clip, clip, clip...

"Stop!"

"But I'm helping you!"

"Stop! Stop right now. I don't want your help!"

"Well!" Surprise! Idiot displays indignation!  "These bushes are on my side of the property line."

She did quickly step on her side of bushes, continuing to snip away at random stems.

"STOP! CUTTING! RIGHT! NOW!"

Mad-man stomps into our house and starts pacing. (Mad-man never paces....ever!)  Back and forth he paces. His fists are deep red, almost purple against his bright white knuckles. He paces some more.

I tell him to take a deep breath and he just stares at me with big mad-man eyes.

He heads back out the front door to make sure she has stopped.

There are now ten people standing in her yard, our yard and the street trying to decide where the property line is.

Mad-man stomps back into house. He paces more, mutters a couple of not-nice words under his breath. (Mad-man does occasionally mutter not-nice words under his breath but the breath and not-nice words are typically not accompanied by spit! Spit was present and accounted for!)

I was afraid my normally calm husband was going to have a stroke in the middle of our family room.

"Dead Man Walking!" Bill whispered in my head! Of course, I smiled. Bill does amuse me at times.
Mad-man scowled at my smile.

Mrs. Richardson suggested we call the police and report the vandalism and get on with changing out of our church clothes so that we might start in on our Sunday chores.

"Let's go knock the shit out of those idiots! Who's with me?"  Beatrice is always ready to knock the stuffing out of anybody for anything. Not that she would actually do any of the "knocking" but she incites the fight and sits back and calls all the "sissy punches"!

Carly-Anne and Ms. Machado disappeared in the shadows. BabaMara kicked off our shoes and poured us a glass of cold Riesling. I really like BabaMara.

She made us popcorn, just in case there were any further encounters with the idiots.

The idiots disappeared inside the shell of a house.  Half an hour later they were tossing kitchen cabinets out onto the lawn. Frankly, I've never seen happier kitchen cabinets. They were probably relieved not to have to share space with the idiots!

Last night, as we prepared for bed, all of us (except Mad-man) knelt at the side of the bed and prayed.

Dear God,
Please bring energy to the poor bushes outside, help them survive.
Please help Mad-man return to his Solid-Rock state of being.
Please, have mercy on our household and make the idiots next door be flippers and not residents.
Thank you for the Reisling.
Amen.

Call To Order

Crew Meeting called. July 17, 2014

Agenda:

 I. Juicing (to continue or not continue to consume green juice)
       A. If "no" majority, how will we lower our cholesterol?
       B. If "yes" do we continue with breakfast and lunch or adjust to breakfast and dinner
             1.  Asparagus
             2.  Cabbage
             3.  Jalapenos vs Chipotle
II.  Continued fast from Meat, Eggs and Dairy
              
"Meeting called to order!"

"Hey, why does she get to preside over the meeting?  Didn't she resign as chairwoman?

"Beatrice, sit down, you are out of order." Mrs. Richardson follows Robert's Rules Of Order without fail or deviation. We think she might sleep with her own worn copy of the 208 page how-to-run-a-meeting via parlimentary?

"Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame."

"Quoting Virginia Woolf is not on the agenda either, Bill. If you can't say something nice, than..."

In his best Al Pacino voice, "I'm out of order? You're out of order! This whole court is out of order!"

Photo Courtesy of http://eat-spin-run-repeat.com

The crew is gathered around the pool in the backyard. Ms. Machado, Carly-Anne and BabaMara are floating in the pool. Ms. Machado is wearing a sleek light blue one-piece with an ever-so tiny bit of cleavage peeking out. Carly-Anne is wearing a hand-me-down from Sinthya. And, let's just say that BabaMara is floating too, with ease.

Bill, sitting on the diving board, is rolling a cigarette. Beatrice, spraying bug spray all over herself, is attending with her ever-present scowl. Sinthya is shea buttered-up and spread out on the lounge in the tiniest black and purple bikini with matching Ray-Ban sunglasses and purple Manolo Blahniks flip flops.

"Can someone please inform Ms. UV Rays that she is colonizing little basal cell carcinoma communities all over our body?" Beatrice really is in a huff today.

Licking the the yellow zig-zag paper, Bill shoots in a little Gladiator Russell Crowe, "Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back."

"Order! Order! BabaMara, can you please ring them in?"

With only her nose, mouth, and her bare, uh, her, uh, breasts above the water, BabaMara threatens to put the crew in jelly jars (again) if they don't settle down.

Water lapping on the steps of the pool, accompanied by the call of a morning dove, played a summer duet in the stillness. The crew really didn't like sitting on a shelf in those jelly jars!

Mrs. Richardson is sitting at the table under the umbrella in a beautful light grey linen skirt and silk blouse with a jabot collar. Her hair is neatly tucked into a french twist. She's wearing pearl earings. It is 98 degrees and the humidity is 58!  Gotta hand it to her, she must wear kick-ass antiperspirant!

"Item I on the agenda is continued green juicing. We have discussed this matter until my brain feels like pulverized endive, can I have a motion to just go to the vote?"

Of course, it is Carly-Anne, who stands at attention in the water, "I motion a vote to decide if we continue juicing on a daily basis....except for Sunday."

""...except for Sunday" is not on the agenda, Carly-Anne."

"But I miss pancakes!"

"I second the motion!" chimes in Ms. Machado just before sneaking past Bill on the diving board and executing a perfect jack-knife dive with tiniest bit of splash.

"All in favor of continued juicing?"

"Yea." "Yea." "Yea." "Yea."  "I suppose."

"Would that be a 'yea', Beatrice?"

"YEA!" Wrinkled nose and  furrowed brow, arms across chest!  "Not like it's going to do any good because we are headed to lethal cases of lung cancer and skin cancer with those two heathens hanging around!"  Sinthya sipped a bit of fine tequila from a telavera shot glass as she raised her eyebrows and then the glass to Beatrice, "Don't forget liver failure, pendeho!"

"All opposed?"

"Absolutely, NO!" Sinthya rolls onto her bronze tummy. "What is life without omelet du fromage and french toast smothered in creme brulee?"

Photo Courtesy of godsavethescene.me.

"If you had to choose one person in the entire world to eat for breakfast, who would you eat, and why?"

"BILL!"

"NAY!" Obviously, this crowd does not appreciate Roger Schuster!

"5 yea and 2 nay! Passed. We continue with juice! Moving on to B; we can skip A as it no longer relevant."

"Another one bites the dust!"

Thank God BabaMara turned Mrs. Richardson's gavel into a yard gnome and that 8 x 11 sheets of paper don't make good weapons! Well, except for paper cuts but how many paper cuts to does it take to murder a smart ass. How ever long it would take would most likely be "an inappropriate use of time" to Mrs. Richardson. Luckily for Bill.

We decided that juice for breakfast and lunch will continue. We will not juice asparagus but will continue to juice cabbage though on the days that cabbage is consumed, Bill and BabaMara will not sleep in the same bed as the rest of us.  Chipotle won by a landslide.

The continued fasting of Meat, Eggs and Cheese was tabled for next meeting due to rampant anarchy and an impromptu water fight.

Beatrice submitted the following minutes of the meeting to Mrs. Richardson:

Not My Circus

Not My Clowns

Mrs. Richardson immediately resigned as Chairman of the Board.

Not to worry. She resigns at the end of every board meeting.

Continuing Introductions

This post is a continuation of yesterday's introduction to the characters I was instructed to dig deep into my personality to discover during a workshop.  We all have different aspects to of who we are, what our habits are, what we think and do. The workshop suggested we name at least 5 different characters, give them names and flesh them out.


I do not suffer from Multiple Personality Disorder but I do know that there are many faces to one's personality; you know, Doc, Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy and those other guys. My crew is very diversified, one even stepped out of the shadows to introduce herself. There are actually several Happy's and a Grumpy residing in my personality.

In my previous post, I introduced, Sinthya, Carly-Anne, Bill and Mrs. Richardson. Today I would like to reveal BabaMara, our magical, mystical cuddly crone; Ms. Machado, a teacher with incredible patience...for the most part. Last, but certainly not least, is snarky Beatrice; Beware Of Beatrice

BabaMara

Magic comes easy to BabaMara, it is in her DNA! She has long, unruly hair, as white as the whitest snow. She often wears it pulled back in a twist or in a long, thick braid but there are always lose curls and waves tickling her neck or framing her face. She manages to get most of it on her head, when she bakes bread or on hot days. BabaMara is ancient, she has lived other lives and brings the wisdom of centuries with her to the crew.

Photo Courtesy of http://sabrina-linda.tumblr.com

She never loses her temper, she bakes wonderful breads filled with secrets; she creates salt scrubs filled with answers to questions we didn't even know we had. She often takes us by the hand and walks with us in our dreams and if one should turn scary, she will whisper in our ear, "Breathe, Dear, it is only a dream." 

BabaMara wears long skirts (the better to shelter elves and brownies ) and deep pockets which are always full of whatever it was you were needing in that very moment. Her blouse sare long and flowing and full of color; they fly behind her in the slightest of breezes.She is usually barefoot, even in the garden or the farmer's market. Carly-Anne painted BabaMara's toenails a bright heavenly blue several months ago. The color matches the sapphire in her toe ring perfectly.  In spite of the passage of time and activities of daily living, BabaMara's nails look as if they were painted this morning. They never chip or grow out.

BabaMara is fluffy, not too fluffy, just the perfect amount of fluff for a soft place to lay your head when you need comforting and yet she can get out in the garden and take long walks in the mountains. She also has just the right amount of fluff to be able to peacefully float in a lake or pool without moving a single muscle.

BabaMara loves to float in the pool as naked as the day she came into the world, listening to the sound of her breathing and heart beat as it reverberates in the water. It reminds her of all the lifetimes she experienced, the births she's prepared for and the births and lifetimes to come.

Don't tell anyone, but BabaMara has "the sight"! She knows things! She knows when you are pregnant before you do. When she wants to speak to you, she imagines your face and your essence and lo and behold, the phone rings or there is a knock at the door and there you are!She sees angels and sometimes they talk to her.

Ms. Machado

Ms. Machado. Now she is a very nice woman. As I said earlier, she is the epitome of patience. She teaches; and not just us. She teaches those around her. She teaches babies concepts like over/under and above/below. She taught us to stop and crack open a dictionary when a new-to-us word pops up in our reading. She teaches us to try it again, when we have tried and tried and tried and failed.

She is a pretty young woman with olive skin and large brown eyes. She always wears a pretty pencil skirt and very pleasant soft blouse in light pastels. She has a deep hunger for knowledge and understanding.  She asks lots of questions of those around her which Mrs. Richardson find annoying, BabaMara finds delightful and Carly-Anne finds intriguing.

And finally, Beatrice

Beatrice is having a bad day! Beatrice is having a bad day, every day.  She has a constant frown and tight lips. She doesn't like heat, she doesn't like cold. She doesn't like whining and she absolutely doesn't stand for bullying.

Beatrice wears a long dark coat with deep, deep pockets. The rest of the crew will often dump whatever problem they have had, or sadness they are feeling in Beatrice's pockets with a quick,
"Carry this for me!" No please, no thank you, just "here, carry it".  When her pockets started to spill over, the Crew bought her a large canvas backpack to carry the overflow.

There are days when Beatrice just grumbles and snaps from the weight and burden of worries, concerns and hurts she carries.  Several times when she has slammed a door or barked out in anger, the crew jumps back and asks, "Hey, what was that all about?"

The Heavy Burden~Daumier ~ wikigallery

She tells them things like, "Well, he treated you like crap last week and I was protecting you!" Only to hear back, "Oh, That! That was so long ago, I forgot!" Beatrice swears alot!

Beatrice forever has her panties in a twist and her knockers up which causes her to always be aware of Anger Management issues and Impulse Control, which only adds to her burden.

The Crew have gathered several times to discuss giving Beatrice a 30 day notice but when she tries to pass the backpack and trench coat to the others so that she can hightail it out of here, they all go back to their activities and leave Beatrice to simmer in her corner.

Introducing "The Crew"

I took a class several years ago which really changed my life. One of the exercises was to  to dig deep and find 5 characters who live inside you and are part of you. They represent the subtle and not so subtle aspects of your personality. To name them one by one and fully describe and flesh-out of each of them.

So I dug down....didn't really have to dig too deep because the characters inside me were fighting for recognition and pushing and shoving to get to the front of the line.

I would like to introduce them to you, the Council of Adrianne:

Friends and Aquaintances, Ladies and Gentlemen, please meet, Sinthya, the spanish senorita of ill repute; Carly, the Hungry Artist; BabaMara; the cuddly nurturing grandmother,  who is magical, mystical and wise, Mrs. Richardson, the responsible adult (yawn) and, of course, Bill! 

Since the class, I have discovered the pleasant teacher, Ms. Machado and, sadly but honestly, Beatrice, who is snarky and a tad bit sarcastic and scornful! 

Sinthya 

Sinthya (accent on the sin) is a spanish senorita of ill repute (retired...mostly), her breasts are firm and her nails are painted! "Sin" (that is what we friends call her) is all about the sensuous. She loves hot baths with lots of bubbles, oils and candles and an open bottle of Amaretto in a hand-blown liquer glass at the tub's edge.

She loves to dance, but none of that soft-shoe wishy-washy stuff....Sinthya does the flamenco. Stomping of feet and tossing of head, flipping of skirt....aaahhh, check out those legs and that red slip.....oh mama!

She is tall and voluptuos. She only wears matching bras and panties and can create quite a disturbance if BabaMara wants to slip into those cotton grandma panties that can tuck into the 18-hour bra....(when she remembers to wear it).

There was an 8th personality, Susie-Homemaker, who was brutally murdered by Sinthya after organizing the friends' underwear drawer by color and suggesting that we could save money by foregoing the ultra-soft quilted toilet paper and purchasing bulk TP at Costco. Wistfully, none of us really misses Susie and we're not sure where Sinthya hid the body.

Sinthya loves the scent, taste and texture of all things including food, sex and drink. Whatever she does, it is all about the sensuosness and richness of it. She loves bed but rises early every morning to drink her tea or coffee outside, while the morning mist rises from the lawn and pool, just so she can return to bed, fluff the pillow, tuck the sheets around her and drift off into the land of Mornings Dreams, ah delicioso!

Bill
Bill is forever 39, lanky, loves hats of all kinds, though he can usually be seen neatly tucked under an Indiana Jones' fedora. He typically wears worn levis, a white t-shirt with a Marlboro hard pack rolled up in his left sleeve. He doesn't actually smoke Marlboros though, the box has loose tabacco and papers in it and he rolls his own. Bill loves a cold beer on a hot afternoon, preferably a Del Pacifico or Ice House brew.

He has three, count them, 1..2..3..addictions. Watching People, Watching Movies and Reading Books. He spends the rest of his time quoting the said people, movies and books.

Often when Carly (the Artist) gathers all the cleaning supplies and prepares to give the house a thorough going over (hell, someone's gotta do it since Susie-Homemaker's early demise) she gathers said supplies and rags and sponges, goes to one end of the house and Bill announces in a clear, masterful voice...."Gentlemen, start your engines."

When the sound of an engine is heard in the driveway and the Friends (the group of characters) check out the window and see that the Mother of Adrianne has come to visit, Bill trades in his levis for a tuxedo and in his very best Michael Buffer voice announces..."Lllllleeeeeettttttssssss Rumble!"

Anytime people are starting to get aggitated with each other, Bill whispers that great quote from Monty Pythons Holy Grail, "People, lets not bicker about who killed who!"

Bill's repertoire is constantly growing and he is always....always whispering some appropriately irreverant statement and making me smile at the most inappropriate times.

Carly. The Artist

The Artist....We call her Carly at the moment, but she changes her name like she changes her underwear, well, actually she often forgets to wear underwear but it is purely unintentional. She puts the undies on the bed but by the time she has showered she has forgotten that she put them out (and is running a little late anyway) so doesn't wear them ~ kind of by default.

She is often distracted by beautiful sunsets, incredibly blue water, clouds that resemble angels and turtles and castles and yes, just clouds, really big clouds.

Carly is actually distracted by most things....she even keeps a little paper taped to the phone at work so that when she answers it, she can look down and see where she is just, in case she forgets!

She and Bill have a love hate relationship. Carly will often start to tell a story....oh she does love a good story...and after several minutes of meandering around the story she will often stop herself and mutter, "..well, to make a long story short...." in which Bill always responds with, "Too Late!"

Carly loves art, she loves to create, to paint, to draw, to write. She often is not as productive as she would like to be because she is kind of the runt of the Adrianne-Crew (friends). When we have certain tasks and responsibilities that we don't really want to do or feel said tasks are menial and undeserving of our status, Carly is the one who gives up her time to clean up after us.

 ("Would you like some cheese and crackers with that whine?" asks Bill somewhat lovingly....

"Shut up you, asshole!"

"No, you shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

"Kids! Don't make me turn you into frogs again!")

Oh, I have so much to tell you about BabaMara, the mystical, magical old woman of the council?)
 
Well, as usual, the spotlight is off of Anna....oops, did I forget to tell you that Carly has changed her name...she is really into sculpture at the moment, especially the work of Anna Vaughn Hyatt Huntington and would like to be called Anna...

 ("I know you can get the job, but can you do the job"

"Shut up, Bill!"

"No, you shut up!"

"Kids!")

So, anyway, Car......Anna loves to create, but she doesn't have a lot of time for it, she is much too busy taking care of....."

 "Carly-Anne, stop making excuses....just get out there and create or I will turn you into a frog!"
 
A little sidenote, the Crew wanted to listen to The Fray but Carly-Anne had suggested we kick back and listen to the Sound track of Pajama Game but then they suggested that maybe Carly-Anne could just go in the kitchen and bake up some brownies while we rock-out.....and she did!

As I dug around in the depths of us, looking for different aspects of my personality, I discovered Ms. Richardson. I hadn't noticed her before because, while the other aspects were jumping up and down demanding attention, Ms. Richardson was hard at work.

Ms. Richardson is quite intelligent, her IQ tests have never fallen below 136 and often top 140. She is also very creative, much like Carly, uh, Anna, Carly-Anne ("with a hyphen" as Carly-Anne has been heard to state). but unlike Carly-Anne, Mrs. Richardson gets down to work.

Mrs. Richardson designs web sites and brochures, she is an event planner and great marketing specialist.

Mrs. Richardson is very mature, she is a self-starter; very capable. She wears fashionable yet comfortable shoes but dresses much more professionally than the rest of the council. She is often down-right upset with us because we might grab a burger on the rush and drop mustard on one of her really nice blouses or sweaters. (though Carly-Anne is quite capable at getting the stains out).

Mrs. Richardson loves her books, always non-fiction, she loves the etymology of words, debating politics and creating marketing plans and writing grants. Research is her love and forte. She and Bill will often argue over which books we are going to read next, which books we will keep and which will be tossed out or passed to Carly-Anne for her art.

We think Ms. Richardson is English and that her first name might be Edna but we really don't know for sure and quite frankly none of us is really brave enough to ask.

She is a no nonsense women. She eats, but only small delicate sandwiches, drinks her coffee black, always asks for "just half, thank you" when offered any food item.

She enjoys sex but merely as a perfunctory habit to keep her complexion clear and help her sleep, she would never do it in the morning and sure as hell is not going to do it under the trees in the forest or on the beach in broad daylight, like Sinthia...."that is purely an inappropriate use of time." (She says that about a lot of the things we do....we do them anyway!)

We all call Mrs. Richardson, Mrs. Richardson, and if you dare ask her what her friends call her, she firmly responds, "Mrs. Richardson".

She is responsible, reliable, trustworthy, prompt and makes sure we shower daily and pay the bills on time. She is in charge of the finances and grocery shopping lists.

I will introduce you to the rest of the Crew in the next post, it seems that Carly-Anne and Mrs Richardson are arguing over what's-for-dinner. Mrs. Richardson would like a salad, a meat dish, a vegetable dish and mashed potatoes and Carly thinks we should run to Carl's Jr. I'm going to back Carly-Anne up because I could really use a little cheesecake while I contemplate why I would introduce our Spanish senorita of ill-repute first!

Buffalo and Skates

"You can't roller skate in a buffalo herd..."

I have "authority issues"! When anyone tells me to do something or not to do something, I have an overwhelming urge to do just the opposite!

When someone tells me I "CAN'T" do something...well, my personal anarchist whispers in my ear, "Let's Do It!"

There are a couple of activities the responsible adult in me just draws the line at. Not many, because of all the characters living inside me, the responsible adult holds a very minor part. I call her Mrs. Richardson and she really is a drag.

Roller skating in a buffalo herd is one thing she absolutely will not allow. Besides being head-butted into the next county, she says:
1)  We would get buffalo patty in our ball bearings and ruin our wheels.
2)  The terrain is too unpredictable and we could fall and skin our knees, elbows or break something.
3)   Wolves might mistake us for lame buffaloes and attack and eat us.

And most importantly of all:

4) Someone might see us and think we were crazy!

See, I told you she was a drag!

There are 8 other people living inside me. Most of us want to get our roller skates and find a buffalo herd. After a short meeting of the minds (get it?) we resolved that:

1)  A little shit never hurt anything.
2)  A small donation of skin to Mother Earth would be ok (especially the rough elbow and knee stuff.  Besides, we really like Superman band aids. We also have never had a cast before and it would be fun to gather signatures!
3) Wolves have gotta eat too!

And most importantly of all:

4) We will send out invitations to come watch us because sanity blows and so does Mrs. Richardson!

Satyagraha

Satyagraha?

What is satyagraha? It is a philosophy from India which means to do anything, give anything, sacrifice anything, to pursue what is right without harming another and to do this without regard for self.

Do you have the strength of character for satyagraha? I often wonder that about myself. I definitely have my values and principles and my list of things that start with,
"Well, I would never......."

But, would I? Do I?

I am a woman who has lived a blessed and gifted life. Many of the things I say I would never do, I say them because I have never been challenged by those circumstances. When you look at challenges from a distance they always seem to be constructed of black and white blocks but the closer you get to those challenges the blacks and whites fade to shades of grey.

 Photo courtesy of zeenews.india.com

Gandhi, a man who really introduced Satyagraha to the world at-large, a proponent of "passive resistance" and non-violence and was actually awarded a Nobel Peace prize was a great poser and coward it seems to me. He talked big in the world of men and politics but beat the women in his life. How does one live with those conflicts?

In the light of day, with the world watching, he taught one thing but behind closed doors he was a different person....

Nelson Mandela, I believe, was a man who's name and face is more iconic of passive resistance and nonviolence. A man of honor. I would hope that I am more like Mr. Mandela.

He was a man with strength of character. He lived what he taught; he was an example of his beliefs. He was a man of honor.

Father of a Nation ~ Tata Mandela ~ 1918 - 2013

Many people speak of the influence that Gandhi had on Mandela. To me, it seems that it was not the man Gandhi that influenced as much as the basic creed of passive resistance that Gandhi preached and demonstrated in the public arena.

Mandela was quoted regarding Gandhi, "India sent a man to South Africa and we sent back a Mahatma."

Perhaps it was the struggle of South Africans and the contemptuousness of Apartheid that influenced Gandhi and, maybe, if he had been allowed to live longer, his beliefs would have evolved to include women.

I pray for the strength of authentic satyagraha, authentic grace, and that I am never tested.

Mondays....Kick Starting The Week

It is 9:42 on Monday morning. I haven't had coffee or beat to death any carrots, apples and endives for breakfast yet.

I sit here in a fog, knowing I have another 45 minutes left to write...just write. I promised myself a minimum of 2 hours per day....damn me!

I have been writing a book and the characters have hijacked it. Sometimes they just tell me what to type and I click away. Other times, they tell me to chill because they are thinking something over. At the moment, my protagonist is contemplating plane or car. Road trip provides more time to build a certain relationship but she really has to get where she's going. I bet she is drinking her coffee and a her juice and has probably already had a shower while I sit here with tummy growling, energy deprived and a tad bit smelly. Life is so unfair.

There is a family wedding on Saturday and I still have to get a dress, or a skirt; or the flu so I don't have to go. Wouldn't it be nice if there was a little shop on the corner where you could purchase little vials of Summer Cold or Twenty-Four Hour Flu?  I would take just enough of the serum to keep me home on those special occasions where "No, I don't want to!" is not an acceptable excuse!

When did I become such a recluse and a snarky recluse, at that?  Snarky snuck up on me though I really have never been much of a social butterfly. Give me a tall tree with a cozy nook in the limbs and a good book and I am happy.

Recently on Facebook I read a little picture that said:

I used to be such a people person

but people ruined it for me!

I could so relate to it....sad, huh?  Not always though. I love being with people at my house. "C'mon in, make yourself comfortable. Want some ginger-green tea or a gin and tonic?  How about brownies made with coffee and hazelnut extract?  Take your shoes off and curl up on the sofa! Read anything good lately?"

Ten o'clock...half an hour.....I bet I could do that half hour after my shower and green juice.

Okay, I'm going to make myself a deal. Shower, green juice and half a brownie. Then I will check in with the characters in the book. Maybe they will be more cooperative....oh, hell, who am I kidding?

I'm going to eat a whole brownie, skip the juice and go swimming. If you run across the characters in my book give them a message for me...."You snooze, you loose!"

Happy Scare The Crap Out Of Dogs Day

My poor babies. Last night the fireworks scared my big bad dogs.

My border collie is a real tough guy. Reximux Maximus Aurelius the Third is the Alpha. He's the old guy and he lets everyone know this is his house,. He has a ferocious bark  which he uses to warn  all newcomers to be wary. Open the door and he will beat you to death with his wagging tail! That is, unless you mean to harm me! Flies will be on your body before it hits the ground! Twice he has taken on a strange man who had intent towards ill-will.  Twice the mean man has left with tail between his legs!

Then I have two blue-nose pit bull pups. They aren't really mine. I guess you could call me their grandma! They belong to my grandson. They live here because a mammoth oak tree decided to take a nap on my grandson's house . While making itself comfortable, the tree took out the fence. Immediately after that, my grandson and his Honey had a baby (c-section) and two big clumsy pups with no clue that they aren't lap dogs would not be conducive to fast mending.

The two pups, Kona and Thor, are about 150 pounds each. They look ferocious only because our culture says they are. I have had 6 labs over the years and these two boys are every bit as gentle and loving . They bark if someone approaches the door or house but only because they are excited that someone may be coming to relieve the boredom of hanging out with a grandma that doesn't want to play all day.

Post script on "play": Rex loves to play fetch and he would all day if allowed, though he does like to change up ropes and balls. Kona and Thor, on the other hand, enjoy watching me throw ropes and balls and then retrieve them myself! They do love tug of war, each with an end of the rope in their mouths, they will pull each other around for 5 or 10 minutes or until Rex says he wants it!

Fireworks last night at the civic auditorium!  Via river, the explosions are less than a quarter of a mile from my house. You can feel percussion on the biggest booms!

First explosion and all three dogs jumped for my lap. I'd gotten wrapped up in writing and had forgotten to give them a weenie-wrapped Benedryl to help calm them. Damn!

I sat on floor with all of them, reassuring them that all was well. Once convinced that the explosions were not going to "get them"  Kona and Thor wanted to go out and give the loud noises a what for! I opened the slider. We walked out to pool. Both boys gave out half-hearted barks, you know, the kind where you hope what you are barking at doesn't hear you! An especially big burst went off  accompanied by a spectacular display of sparkle in the sky, and the dogs raced back through the patio door faster than the speed of exploding light.

We sat on the floor a couple of more minutes assuring them that the big, bad light in the sky was not going to hurt them. They climbed up on the couch with Papa and watched the rest of a movie filled with shooting, cussing, bombs and  yelling without the tiniest of flinches. (men!)


Next year I need to remember the Benedryl!  Maybe I'll give some to husband, too, and watch a girly flick!

Words! Yum!

Words. I love them. I love where they come from, what they mean, how they sound. I especially love words that dance on the tongue. I love juicy words!

Roots! Now that is a good word. From Old English, from Old Norse, the root of root is wryt...yummy huh! Root is a noun and a verb, trees and teeth have roots, families have roots, pigs root, people root around and I bet you didn't know that the lowest tone of a chord (as C in a C minor chord) when the tones are arranged in ascending thirds is a root.

How about "Phosphatidylcholine"? Don't you just love how it plays in your mouth and gets your tongue all juiced up? I don't know why there are no children's poem or riddles with phosphatidylcholine in them. It is every bit as fun to say as Mary, Mary, quite contrary and much more interesting than a Snuffleupagus.


What about Snickerdoodle? It doesn't tickle my toes like Abaculus but it is a jolly word. Abaculus, now that word should never be spelled out in whole letters but should be written with dots, small broken pieces of letters, grout is optional.

Hamulus rhymes with abaculas but sounds better in pig latin: amulushay, but the Hook is when would you use both words in a poem?

Relinquish...anouther good sound but not an action that most of us choose freely, unless its to relinquish a hated chore or paying the bills, I would gladly relinquish my daily dose of phosphatidlycholine and finishing the abaculus with the hamulus but I absolutely will not relinquish my snickerdoodle.

Another word, a word that opens the door..and several windows...on many more juicier words and concepts is epistemology! Can you just feel the goose bumps building up your back?

Epistemology! What makes justified beliefs justified? (here come some excellent words folks....hold on). Deontological justification! Contextualist! Tripartite!

Is it possible that there is deontological justification for daily doses of phosphatidlycholine? Would that constitute deontic logic...well, maybe non-deontic logic, which is much more fun to say anyway!

A word that confuses me is tree! A very inappropriate word for such beautiful beings. The word tree is so tiny and all above the line, no g's or j's, no p's or y's! No roots or wyrt's, and the tallest letter is a t, what about the l's and f's. Tree will just not do....let us make up a new one. Not a word for boot tree or saddle tree or family tree (whew, talk about roots). Well, I'm up a tree on this one...any ideas?

Do I have a favorite word you might ask? Do you have a favorite word? A word you use in everyday conversation? What about "contemporary" or "random" or "serendipitous"? Consequently! Pursuant....eww, thats a little precocious!


Pray tell....share with us your favorite word and why!

Hey! I'm Magic

While surfing this morning...and you know I mean the internet because it's the week after Shark Week!
Anybody going in the water this week is pure nutso!

So, while reading this blog and that blog, I find a reference to Rebelle Society. I am completely aware that if one wants to keep people on their website, one should only make references to other sites but should never post a link.  Gotta make an exception for this one. Posts on Rebelle Society can inspire the soul to soar. Reading it makes me feel like dancing naked in the moonlight...oh, did that last night...blue moon, you know!

One of the Blog Posts is entitled "7 Traits of Magical People".

Having read it, twice, my belief that I am magic has been confirmed. I am a magical people!!!

First trait: "You Know You're Magic"

Hells yeah, I'm magic. I've known about being magic for years. I know a lot of magical people, too. I bet some of them don't know they are magical, but I know they are.

Second Trait: "Synchronicities Happen For You...A Lot"

My middle name is Synchronicity!  Every day, all day, magical synchronicities.  Synchronicity is so rampant in my day-to-day life that I couldn't avoid them even hiding in a closet all day. Curled up with my shoes on the little white bench in my closet, thinking about how much my legs hurt from the lack of circulation, a book would fall off the top shelf, hitting me on the head; "Meditate The Pain Away"  or "Closet Organization For Dummies."

Third Trait: "You Are Sensitive To Seasons and Lunar Cycles"

Really? Didn't I just tell you about dancing naked in the light of the Blue Moon?

Fourth Trait: "You Have Very Vivid Dreams"

Had a dream last night that I was reading my Kobo in the middle of the night and finished the book. Woke up, realized it was a dream, grabbed my Kobo and finished the book! I liked my dream ending better!  I just might write the author and advise her to republish the book with the new, more exciting and surprise ending!

I fly, capeless. I dream in color. I visit loved ones who have passed. Sometimes I think my day is more a dream than my dreams! Mostly, I laugh so loud in my dreams that I wake myself up and I'm still laughing.

Fifth Trait:  "When I Fall In Love It's Psychedelic"

Met my husband at a health fair in the mall. He was standing in line at another booth. Everyone was in black and white and he was in Technicolor! 'Nuff said!

Sixth Trait:  "You Have An Abundance of Prana"

Prana, that would be creative energy. Have you been to my house?  If anything stands still long enough, I will paint it, plaster it or make it into something else. I even let the toddlers finger paint the baby once!

The site uses the phrase, "seized with the need"!  I have a lot of need cups and they all runneth over!

Seventh Trait: "You Love To Spread The Magic Around"

If I could, I would buy the Burrito Food Truck on the corner of Hilltop and Dana. I would paint it in bright, saturated colors. I would paint the sun rising over the mountains on the right side and the night sky with stars and moon twinkling on the left side, dragons in front and a unicorn on the back.  On the roof I would paint a little helipad with a note for the CHP helicopter pilot; "C'mon Down For Some Magic!"

I would sell magic wands and spell books but mostly, I would give away little purple satchels with sparkly ties and inside each satchel would be a note:

You don't need someone to tell you that you are magic, 

You already are!