Happy Birthday, Dad

This is a challenging time for me.

On a daily basis, I am dealing with a heart full of polar opposites: love and loss, fear and courage, resolve and timidity.



I am in a place I never expected to be at this point in my life.

I am sometimes frightened while curious, happy one moment and moved to tears the next.

Sometimes I feel like I am a mess.

Others, I feel as though everything has the chance to be made new again if only I can keep my wits about me and keep moving forward.

If I sit quietly.... I can remember your lessons, your wisdom and I can hear the faint whisper of your voice.

You taught me to look at everything in the world...to notice the details. I remember once, you bent to pick up a spiral shaped seed pod. It was delicate....needle sharp.... perfectly formed.
We talked about man's inventions of things mechanical....and the wonder of how nature had beat us to it. "We have only to see, to learn."

You taught me to walk quietly in places of great age and beauty. I learned this lesson in the Redwoods of Northern California, along the riverbanks of the Sierra Nevada, the deep canyons of Utah.

You taught me respect for intelligence, honesty, integrity. To question with an open mind.

(You also tried to teach me higher math.......but that lesson didn't take so well.)

The last thing you told me, was to always speak of you in the present tense. You knew you were dying but we did not confront this directly. You knew, that I knew.

"Instead of saying your dad "liked" biscuits.....say that your dad "likes" them....that way, I will always be there."

Sometimes, I actually utter the words; "My dad likes biscuits" -- and in the wondrous yet fleeting moment that is created; I, for just an instant , become again that young child that looked to her father for relief from the fears of the night. And in that moment....I am relieved.

Happy Birthday, Dad. The years we had together were a gift...the lessons, have lasted a life time.

Except for that higher math stuff.

What the HELL is he thinking?

I will admit that it has been a very long time since I have been surprised by just how badly politics can manage to mangle our lives.

It doesn't matter, for the most part, on what side of the political fence you find yourself...both are so entrenched in their bias that real dialogue ceased to exist longer ago than I even want to think about.

Through it all, there is one issue that each year, is my litmus for candidates; and that is a woman's right to own and manage her own reproductive system. The state simply has no right on this earth to hold court over my uterus.

Every election; I pay more attention to which candidates will bring which changes to the Supreme Court justices...and every year I avoid those with tendencies to support the agenda of those which fail to recognize and work to remove the right of women to make the most personal choices.

And so when I read in the Editorial section of today's San Jose Mercury the attempt by the Department of Health and Human services to re-write the definition of abortion to include the following :

"any of the various procedures - including the prescription, dispensing and administration of any drug or the performance of any procedure or any other action - that results in the termination of the life of a human being in utero between conception and natural birth, whether before or after implantation."

I was absolutely stunned.

I know of no scientific report that has suddenly concluded that viable life exists at the moment of conception.

I know plenty of religious zealots that would, and sadly the Catholic church is STILL promoting the "rhythm" method as the only acceptable means of birth control.

But beyond this issue...which would most certainly fail approval under a democratic president, beyond the sheer insanity of the proposal....what the HELL is Bush thinking? I mean, really George-- don't you have enough serious REAL problems to fiddle with without bringing out this old chestnut at the 11th hour ?

The right to choose to have an abortion is something I grimly fight for every time I step into the voting booth.

I just didn't expect to ever have to go back to fighting for access to birth control.

Saturday's Possiblities

Saturdays are the most interesting day of the week for me.

I especially love the early morning hours on Saturday.

I am, by nature, something of an early riser. I like the quiet cool of the morning...the way the rising light brings colour to the world outside. I love waking up to email and the smell of fresh, earthy coffee ready to sip.

What I love most; are the possibilities that beckon from within Saturday.

Before that first cup of coffee is finished, in my mind I can paint the kitchen, clean the garage, make something wondrous from bits of wool , fabric scraps, bottle caps or paper. I can sail through my household chores in a fashion that would leave Martha asking ME for tips, get the oil changed, and the tomatillos roasted.

Saturday is all about the coalescence of energy, idea and action.

Now there IS a little reality check built into every Saturday musing. Today... it was just the tiniest little thing.

Today it was.... Green.

Now green and I normally get along from a respectful distance. It's not that I don't like green. Quite the contrary.... but Green is a contrary colour. And reproducing it with accuracy seems to elude me. The Granny Smith above sits on a cobalt blue tile counter.... I blame my bad photographic skills and my worse photo editing skills for not getting the hues correct. Use this as a jumping off point for your imagination. Because I want an apple green wall in my kitchen.

Yeah... you heard me.

Why ? because I really DO have cobalt blue tiles ....and snow white counter tops and boring oak cabinets and well.....because Granny Smith Apple Green has long been a favourite. And I want something different and happy and daring to greet me when I pour my first cup of coffee.

But finding it in paint is tricky. Seems to be either too yellow ...too sage....or too...Kermit. ( Sorry fella....I know it's not easy.)

I took my apple to the paint store this morning. This set in motion the collision between Possibility and Reality. I came home with paint chips....but no paint.

But Saturday isn't over yet.......and the right shade of green to be found is still within the realm of possibility.

May the possibilities of your Saturday be realized in the happiest of ways.

Rare

There were at least a dozen other containers in the nursery that day, all with a generic label that read "Italian Peppers, Green, Long"

And no other information.

No cute little picture on a plant card telling me what to expect..no indications of what kind of environment best suited this variety.

The plant itself was unremarkable.... barely more than a stick in the dirt with a couple of leaves. I passed by it several times, drawn down the rows of offerings for the garden that were blooming, scented, wonderfully colourful, climbing, spiraling -- doing all the things that make us feel like competent gardeners, at least on the drive home and for the first couple of weeks that our new wonders are in the ground. I pushed my cart around the nursery with my small bit of cash trying to decide.

"Italian Peppers, Green, Long" simply sat there...looking forlorn; like the wee Christmas tree that looses all its needles in the Peanuts special we watch every year.

Anybody that knows me well, knows that food that causes pain is not a pleasure for me. I've taken my fair share of abuse for picking out the "mild" salsa, while others wax poetic over the virtues of this concoction or that - all while breaking out in a sweat, turning red and citing the BTU ratings of their latest find. ( I think it's just an excuse to drink more beer, but that's for another blog...)

So I really had no REASON to buy "Italian Peppers, Green, Long" -- but I kept coming back to them... and by my 4th or 5th tour , I had ascribed a stoic nature to them. ( What.... YOUR garden plants don't have personalities ? -- We'll talk later...) On my 6th tour (yes... I can take nearly as long in a nursery these days as I can a bookstore), I had myself convinced that if they WERE the Peppers of Satan , I could give them to my next door neighbors that love the spicy stuff.

I liked that they stood there on their own merit.... not flashy or lush leaved..very simple plants that would be easy to miss if you aren't mindful of detail....and discounted to boot. But there they were....making the best of their situation.

I bought one container ....thinking about the time I was lucky enough to actually visit Italy--- by the time I drove the 5 miles or so to my house.... "Italian Peppers, Green, Long" and I had bonded.

And now, I am rewarded with this surprise..... this lone, red pepper....just growing....enjoying the sun, trying to be the very best pepper it can be. Some botanist or REAL gardener is going to email me and tell me its all just plant genetics and that this oddball on my pepper plant is just like their dysfunctional but lovable Uncle that shows up for Thanksgiving, kind of a fluke and a testament to the fact that once in awhile, the recessive genes win out, against all odds.

They will go on to say that "Italian Peppers, Green, Long" just do this sometimes and this is most definitely not a cosmic sign from the Universe that I should go on being exactly who I am...discovering all that means, knowing that somewhere, someone might notice this and appreciate it enough to want to spend a bit of time with someone that is a little different from all the rest.

I don't care what they say.

"Italian Peppers, Green, Long" and I ...... we're tight.

Oh, Roll Divine !

I've been getting back in touch with my inner baker.

I learned to bake bread from my mom when I was 7. I remember standing on a step stool at the kitchen counter, a hand towel tied around my waist in lieu of an apron, learning the right hand motions in punching down dough.. kneading dough...looking for just the right texture before letting dough rise. I grew up appreciating the smell of bread baking in the house; the joy of eating a warm slice dripping with honey outside on the front lawn.

Baking bread seemed to be an all day affair.... with the finished product coming out of the oven in late afternoon if we started early in the morning. Adjustments were made if the day was rainy, or humid or hot; as all of these things affected The Dough. Since those days of early apprenticeship under my mother's gaze, until the late adult hood, I had baked bread in just about every conceivable fashion: in coffee cans, in flower pots ( new ones, of course, but flower pots just the same), in dutch ovens over campfires, I even got to bake bread in a kiva one time in the gold country.

So when I stumbled upon No Knead bread recipes the first time...oh...last year sometime...I kinda turned up my nose and moved along. A dough that you didn't knead just didn't seem like real bread. It's kinda like those people ( you KNOW who you are ) that make Ambrosia out of Cool Whip and fruit cocktail. I'm sorry, but.......uh ....NO. No knead ? No Good..... Move along...nothing to see here.

Then last year I had a remarkable lunch that included a warm bread salad. And I've been wanting to re-produce that bread salad ever since... but it required a "rustic" bread. Now to be fair; my local Safeway bakery actually makes some wonderful loaves of bready goodness...but I wanted something a little more hands on....

But at the same time.... I didn't want the bread baking to be an all day thing. ( And I'm sorry, you lovers of bread machines out there; but the bread they produce just doesn't do it for me.... )

Enter again; the No Knead bread recipe phenom. Ok ...Ok.... so I decide to give it a try. And I hate to admit this...but I'm sorta..........yeah...........hooked.

Hard to believe that a soup of dough that is slopped together in a bucket and left to chill in the fridge till you are ready to mess with it can produce on demand such toothsome happiness as the roll above. The crust is properly crunchy without causing fear of dental work; the texture exactly spot on and nice enough to stand up to spreads, the taste....the taste is simply amazing...

No..it is not the soft ,white-as-angel-wings bread that I learned to make at my mother's kitchen counter....and no, this particular version is not made from sprouted grains or husks of anything ...it's plain ole all purpose flour, yeast, kosher salt, and water.... and..... wonderful.

This particular roll ? I decided I wanted some fresh bread for a turkey sandwich today....in an hour; I went from thought to finished product and have been munching said sandwich as I typed this today.

Interested you say ? Do a search on No Knead Bread recipes; or take the expressway to your nearest bookstore and pick up a copy of Artisan Bread in Five Minutes A Day by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois.

And smile when you walk pass by the bread aisle in your market......

While You Were Out

Life has an interesting habit of getting us out of our own way.

Last week, the majority of my waking moments were spent thinking, worrying, and supporting my grandaughter and her parents while the Wee One underwent open heart surgery.
The surgery went just fine; was successful and our three year old sprite is back to trying to make the case for having lollipops for dinner each night.

My fledgling garden got most of the attention it needed ( I am new at this, so I never quite know if what I am doing would make a real gardener's hair stand up straight or fall out, but I muddle though)... and I even picked my first zucchini !

Yes..I know.... any idiot with dirt is supposed to be able to grow zucchini, but let me tell you... I have tried...and failed...on at least four separate occasions that I am willing to admit to.

But these snow peas were ...well.... a complete surprise to me to find the other morning. SNOW PEAS !!! >>>>>>>ME <<<<<< < I actually wondered if these little vines would produce anything but nice little green leaves, and then one day...poof! There were tiny white flowers.
I held my breath......got busy with the surgical affairs......... and the next thing I knew I had enough for a stir fry dinner.

It just was a good reminder to me that good things happen if we don't obsess about it too much...
The Universe needs a bit of space, some time and occasionally a little help to let it work its magic... I'll try to keep this present in my thoughts when the worries of the day threaten to consume my attention.

Today snow peas.......... tomorrow ?

Harbinger of Spring

I've been having an affair.

And yesterday, the for very first time in the 21 years that I have been carrying on this one sided tryst, I spoke to the object of my affection.



Ahhh...he has no clue as to my feelings; he is the quintessential passing fancy.


Our landmark conversation, after 21 years is as follows:

"Spring is here, if you are out running"
"Heh heh....... Yeah"

...sigh...

I speak of the man I have come to know as Yellow Shorts Guy.
For the span of 21 springs that I have enjoyed in this house, Yellow Shorts Guy has been my
icon for spring. I never know when I will see him --and I never know exactly where. But I know, when I do see him, that the light perfumed days of April and May are not far behind.

Over the years, I have watched the changes in Yellow Shorts Guy. His hair, once richly dark and long has become grayer ....and shorter. For a number of springs, he kept a small pony tail...sometimes braided....but this year, the hair is closely cropped to the back of his neck.

He has always been fit; as one might expect of a career runner. And in warmer, shirtless days years ago; this fact was not lost on me...he tans well -- I suspect family hails from parts of the Mediterranean; this is just a guess of course, based on his dark eyes and easy change in skin tone. And although the middle of him is a wee bit thicker and perhaps his pace a few steps slower, there is one thing about him that is a constant: his yellow running shorts.

Yellow Shorts Guy has worn these same running shorts for the entire time I have watched him.
I know the cut of them, how they fit, how they move, how they fade just the tiniest bit from year to year. Once a screaming yellow, they have now become a happy, sunflower yellow...but yellow they are.

I love that this man has these favourite shorts and wears them for an activity he clearly loves.
I love his consistency, his dedication, his practical nature. If the shorts still work, why replace them ? If the neighborhood still suits you, why move ?

So yesterday...after an afternoon of cutting and hauling tree branches to the street for pickup...sweeping and raking and planting and watering and doing things unfamiliar to me and feeling quite awkward about it all, it was a wonderful surprise to look up and see Yellow Shorts Guy fast approaching. And because this day his route took him directly in front of my house and not 3 feet from where I was standing - I summoned my courage and spoke.

He did not break stride and I did not expect nor want him to. It was enough, to simply acknowledge my personal harbinger of spring -- to smile and feel happy in knowing he is about; that spring is here, that flowers will bloom, that possibilities abound.

Ahhh.....Spring

Solitude

When was the last time that you spent a full day in solitude?

Notice I didn't say alone?

There is a difference, in my universe. In solitude, one can have Thomson's elegant sufficiency..

..." An elegant sufficiency, content,
Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books,..."

In the quiet spaces of life, it may be easy to mistake solitude for being alone. Alone is ...without contact or connection with any other person important in your life. When my partner left our relationship....left the home we had shared, I wandered about these newly empty places wondering how on earth I would fill them. The feeling of a room newly bare....a bed too big.... how does one live with those and NOT feel, alone ? How does one reclaim a place so infused with the essence of another that what you see first is that which is missing, not that which is there ?

The answer is to not mistake solitude for being alone. In solitude we have the luxury of getting to know ourselves....rediscover, re-invent, re-think what it is we are....what it is we want to be.
And in this elegant sufficiency, we can allow our connections to others; to friends, to family - to remind us that truly...we are not alone.

Adapt or Be Thirsty

I'm kinda tired of the whole "When life hands you lemons; make lemonade" thing.

It seems like such an easy thing for people to lob over the emotional fence at you when they can see you struggling, and they WANT to appear concerned, maybe even helpful...but
just....can't.....quite.....figure out how.

It should be simple, right ? Lemons + You Doing Something = Lemonade !! Insert visions of tall cool ones, butterflies, shade trees and joy.

Well the truth of it is....unless you have made lemonade before, you have no earthly idea of what to do.

And the truth behind THAT is.....wait for it...... It doesn't really matter WHAT you do...as long as you do SOMETHING.

Survival is about adaptation and adaptation is about effort. Effort is about making the decision to invoke change through action. The action must come from you. Wanting change isn't enough. You must set your intention that you will allow yourself to change and start making incremental efforts to do so. Small moves.... they count. Bigger ones when you are feeling that you can take on bigger challenges.

You may not like the first batch of lemonade you produce...or your 6th.......or even your 42nd. But by then, you will have adapted so well to making efforts on behalf of positive change that you will at least have a fair idea of what you don't want in your lemonade. You will begin to discover your own recipe.

If you are the kind and helpful sort, you might even offer it up to someone else as a starting point when you see them struggling.

Balance

The single most valuable advice I have received regarding living a full, allowing and loving life is to seek balance.

Notice I did not say, to FIND balance. What I am learning, is that balance, when prepared for, will come.

So how does one, prepare for balance?

Be present to your life as you are living it in each an every moment. Be awake and aware of what you are feeling. And when the feelings come...acknowledge them....recognize them for what they are....feel the fullness of them, and then, simply let them go as you move along to the next thing.

Case in point....I find myself still pulling into my driveway...positioning my car in such away so that there will be room for another. It is a long standing habit, based on a long term relationship of sharing the driveway with my partner and his car. When I recognized this evening that I was still "saving space" for him on the driveway; I was shaken. Did this mean I was denying the end of the relationship? Did it mean I secretly wanted him to drive into the driveway , rush through the front door, and tell me this is all a horrible mistake ? Does it mean that I am afraid to start a new life detached from him ? I sat in my car with the engine off and felt......horrible for a few minutes. That such a little thing, this unconscious act, could have potentially so much emotional baggage attached to it.

So there in my driveway, with plenty of room left for the car I know will not park next to me,I felt my breath catch in my chest, and my heart give a little pinch. " This is a sad moment for me" I said to the steering wheel...feeling the loss of the relationship keenly as I sat there. I let my mind explore the sadness of it...neither rushing nor directing the thoughts. And after a few minutes....I noticed that my breath was more normal...the tears that had come to my eyes did not fall to my cheeks....and my heart was still beating. I sighed and opened the door, stepping out into the sunshine; feeling its warmth on my shoulders...feeling connected not only to the sadness of the moment, but at the same time, a hope for happiness to find me as well.

Balance.
It is, everything.

The Kindness of Others

There is something about a new wallet.
There is something in particular, about THIS new wallet.
Embodied in supple leather, a beautiful clasp, crisp and clean new spaces is.... transformation.

My sister is something of a phenom when it comes to finding bargains, working deals, getting on with the business of life.
She's got a rep in the family: You need a bulldog to go to a store and negotiate a tricky exchange? You call her. You need a common sense approach to life over a cappuccino? You call her. You need to let someone know you negotiated a rained out 9 mile mountain pass without mishap; you call her -- and if you don't she will be calling you to make sure you made it home safely.

So when she invited me to spend the night at her seaside home this last weekend, although it has been in my nature to sit in dark corners and lick my wounds, I decided to take her up on the offer. Late afternoon found me in the ocean community 26 miles and a world away from my home. It rained...we shopped for quiche, sinful desserts, and unexpectedly; wallets.
I've been carrying a red leather wallet that holds a lot of memories for me of my partner and our travels together. I want to set the red leather aside for awhile; let it rest until I am once again strong enough to see it without feeling awful.

My sister finds this wallet in a pile of others...one of a kind.....special.....and one of her favourite makers. It's unmarked and it turned out to be quite a labor to get the price; but as I said, my sister is a bulldog and can negotiate anything. Finders Keepers being the rule of thumb, I loved and admired the wallet, and teased her that it was far too small for her to use. I knew full well, however, and so did she, that she COULD use it... so the tease was a ruse. Our evening went on; fuzzy slippers, TV, homework help to my niece, good natured teasing... uncharacteristically I was up until 1:30 am.

It was simply the kind of evening you really really need when you have had a week of lousy days and nights.

The next morning; she smiled and handed me the wallet.
And I took it.
It will always be my embodied memory of this gentle weekend with my sister and niece.
It is just what I need to carry with me.

Shattered

My partner of nearly 20 years and I are splitting up.

For the bulk of the week, we have been discussing things that would have been better said days...weeks..months....years ago.

We are not nasty...we do not fight...we work to not do more damage than this will already do to ourselves, our family, our friends.

We hold on to one another and cry..wishing we were anywhere but in this space. Hating the pain that we bring to one another...hating the work that goes into surviving from one hour to the next. When we can gather our breath; we speak of the tasks of untangling; who gets which chair...where does that lamp go....and at the same time, not really believing that we utter these words to one another....feeling like we have slipped into some alternate, surreal universe where everything is like an Escher drawing and nothing quite makes sense when you really look at it.

I google "how to survive a break up" sites.....although the truth of the matter is that this is not my first break up.

But what I have learned is, they ALL feel like the first time.

How Resolute Are Your Resolutions ?

I am actually quite proud of myself this year.

1. I managed to avoid ALL of the end of year retrospectives on who died in the last 12 months. All those little video clips of actors, waving goodbye to the camera from that great movie that they made; all of those composite shots of conductors or musicians against their embedded soundtracks, all of the tributes to those persons of influence that actually made a difference in the world. All of those things, not in my consciousness this year....except for the passing of Pavarotti. And even though I am not a huge opera fan; I know the world is quiet in a sadder way, for the loss of that unique voice.

2. I managed to avoid making ANY New Year resolutions. And this...is the focus of my rambling today....

For my YMCA of choice is filled right now, with the resolute. The smallish parking lot is clogged with the chariots of the well intentioned. The locker spaces are filled, the showers are running non stop. Everyone is on and off the scale--sighs, groans, growls and small whoops of joy sometimes can be heard. Most, I think, view the numbers in quiet desperation.

There is a relative kindness at this time of year, that all of us in the weight room seem to extend to each other. We recognize that we are all trying to make good on that midnight vow we made, after having a last treat at 11:45. We're trying to look practiced as we remember how to adjust machines...wait patiently when the one we want is in use...and we covertly scowl at those that don't look like they have a reason to be there in the first place.

We are not yet through January, and the game of Chicken has begun. Which of us will drop out of the effort to change what we think we must, first ? While it may mean one more parking space, or less time waiting for that infernal elliptical machine, I'll be a bit sad to see the faces that right now reflect our collective determination, change to frustration and finally disappear all together.

Come and hang out with me in January.... I'll bring an extra bottle of water.