Bye-Bye Birdie

I visit folks in the hospital as a volunteer.  I'm not just visiting to visit, I have a purpose.  Being sick, injured, dying, or recovering isn't just for the body and mind.  We are three parts, and my goal is to care for patient's spirit.

Several weeks ago, when the weather couldn't decide if it was winter or spring, I met a patient who had cut off several fingers with a snow blower. OUCH!!

I try to visit people who have lost a body part.  Losing a physical part of our body affects our spirit.  I figured there would be something to talk about.

My first thought was to ask him if he was a musician (my bad, as it is my perspective as a musician).  He was silly/lying and said yes, and feigned a tear.  The question was legitimate because I wanted to sum up how much the loss 2 fingers was for this man.

He was in his late 60's, and looked like a fun, clean cut, outdoorsy, grandpa-type.  He raised up his bandaged, stubby hand, and told me that cutting off his middle finger was payback for giving so many people 'the finger' during his life.  He said it with the same light heartedness as before, but in the end it was the spiritual part of the conversation.

Everyday is Earth Day

John Muir was born on this day in 1838. I like Earth Day as much as any day. On this, the 22nd of April, 2012, I have sprouting greens in my garden. So, today I'm celebrating especially because I had to be so patient to get here. See my other blog, real estate vs. real life.

Awesome Blossom

I'm not in favor of the word 'awesome' because it is as descriptive as the word 'stuff'. And yet, this tree did render me awestruck. There really aren't words.

We sat under this cherry and basked in the pink light. I took some photos, but it leaves out the other senses. The images aren't worth 1000 words, and neither was actually being there.

We ate lunch on the patio under this tree, and though the food was good, it wasn't as satisfying as the view.

Love Armadillo

Last week after a lunch out with my husband, he bought me a hat.  I loved this hat before it was mine, in a "stuff-kind-of-love" way.  We walked on the sunny side of the street to keep warm after our meal.  We went into the hat shop, just to try on hats.  I like hats because they suit me.  

My husband loves me because I suit him.  He saw me hovering over this hat, and before we left, told me he was going to buy it.  It was "stupid" expensive.  It was in a tourist shop, so I knew I could get it somewhere else for a reasonable price, so I said no.  He said yes.  I said no.  He said yes.  I said, 'Okay'.

My husband made me feel worth full price and beautiful.  It made me feel like we were newly in love, like back in the early 90's (remember those?).  

I put the hat on, and wore it the rest of the day/week/month.  In the car on the way home from school, full of love in my heart, feeling as beautiful and cared for as a girl can feel just from getting a hat, my kids commented on my new fashion.

My son said I look good in hats.  My daughter said I looked like I had an armadillo on my head.  

http://stevecreek.com/

I didn't know how to feel about her statement.  It seemed true, but I didn't roll up into a little ball with my hard shell to the world.  

Later, wearing the hat, my friend, without provocation or talking to my daughter, told me I looked like I had the cutest armadillo on my head he had ever seen.  

It must be true, it looks like an armadillo.  When I look at it, I see I am worth loving for years, even decades.  

Potato Tower of Terror

Okay, there was nothing terrorizing about my tower of potatoes. It might be terrible if it doesn't work, but supposedly, pounds of potatoes are supposed to grow out of my straw tower.
I've got my soil all ready for planting in the beds.
My uncle told me he was working on his garden today too, so it must be in my genes.
It feels like it!

The Long, Long, Trailer

My new plan is to take photos that are horizontal!
 

I have wanted a trailer since I was small and sat on the floor in front of the television and watched Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball, haul a long long trailer on a vacation.

This is our Airstream.  I really wanted something old and nice, instead of new and cheap.  We looked around, and as if by design, I saw this on the way to work.  It then snowed for a few weeks, and the trailer was still for sale.  So we bought it.

It is our plan to haul this to Yellowstone at the end of the summer and a few shorter trips before then.  Now I am scouting out dishes, pots, pans, sheets and towels so we can be ready for our maiden voyage.      I'm read for an adventure!!

Hopefully our only misadventure will be singing in the front seat a bit too loudly (the best laid plans of mice and men....)

Batman Jesus: A Review

I have been watching a television show called Person Of Interest.  As the title of this post implies, I like it because Jesus is portraying Batman.  Really clever!  Okay, it is Jim Caviezel in the lead, and some actors from Lost, since it is made by JJ Abrams. Oh!  Now that I look, the maker of those sweet Batman movies, and one of my favorites, Memento.  As I write this I am understanding why I like it so much.  Check out the IMDB.

Basically the Jesus character saved folks using compassion and technology.  I like that.  I also like how, unlike Lost, or Memento, you can follow the plot easily.  I like to think hard sometimes, but lately, not so much.  I know I like it, because the time seems to slip by more quickly than usual.

What I don't like about it?

The title is the most boring title I can think of.  It is hard to remember because it is so boring.  I could think of equally bad titles for the show: People Who Are,  Interesting Show, or Show About People.  I realize highly popular shows have had terribly bland names, such as Friends or E.R.  It doesn't ruin it for me.

The final thing I don't like about it, is that if you don't have a television, and only a computer, you have to do something that Jesus wouldn't do, but Batman would/could.  We have to watch it via a circuitous route, which isn't so ethical, it might even be cheating (see my previous post).  Because it isn't streaming via CBS or Hulu, I think that it will only last this season.  

Making a House, a Home

There have been times that I felt like I was missing something.  Like an ache I can't pinpoint.   A void.  Moving so much in the past few years made it clear what that illusive hole was.  Now that we have a house we can mess with again, I/we put in raised beds.  The ache is gone. Just in one weekend.

I need to grow stuff.  I know it's a hobby that is not glamorous, like fast cars, skiing, sunbathing, shopping, traveling, or biking.  It is slow, and dirty.  It is the incarnation of the word 'humble' (okay maybe 'incarnation' is a bit transcendental and hyperbolic, but the word displays the unseen call my spirit has to gardening).  It fills the hole in me with soil, and leaves, and vines, and hope.

This is the modest beginning of what could be several years of tomatoes, cucumbers, berries, and satisfied tummies.  If not, I can grow something somewhere else, but this summer, we will have a bit of hope growing in the front yard, for the deer to munch on.

P.S.  These photos might lead you to believe that I had little to do with the project, but I was there, thankful that I had a crew that wanted to be a part of something that is mine!

Slime

My mother-in-law gave this to me as a gift.

I was confused why such a soft pink t-shirt would have the word "slime" across the front. I smiled with thanks and confusion. Maybe it was a humorous gift? I was thinking more people would be laughing. So as not to be awkward (or more awkward) I kept my mouth shut.

When things don't seem to make sense, I need to solve the puzzle. Looking at the shirt more it hit me: SMILE! Not slime. Which is exactly what I did, I slimed, I mean, smiled.

I took this photo in the mirror hoping you could sympathize with my perspective. Looking at it now I realize that the color of the shirt makes me all one, very pale hue! Even still, I'll obey it's command!

Smile!

Confession: I Cheated!

I love Scrabble.  I don't love it because I am good at it, I love it because I love words.  There is just the right combination of letters to fit on the board, I just have to unlock it.  When I find the perfect word, it is satisfying.
   
I can play Scrabble with people I know, strangers, or my phone, on my phone.  There is another game much like Scrabble but bonuses are in different spaces, so it is NOT Scrabble (for legal reasons, I'm sure).  I tried this popular game.  It is fun, just like Scrabble because it is Scrabble.
   
My friend told me that you can download an application for your phone that will enable to you CHEAT, at Words With Friends.  Huh?  I didn't believe it, and I just kept playing.  Curiosity got the best of me though, and I did look to see if there was a cheat application.  Guess what?  There is!  You run the word game and the cheat and it reads the board and tells you the best word to play, and where.
   
As soon as I saw this, I took the silly game off my phone.  I want to play, but not if I know anyone can "not play" by cheating.
   
Up until this point, this has been laying groundwork for my defense.  It turns out that for most of my schooling: jr. high, high school and especially at the university, I have been a huge cheater.   I say, "it turns out", because I didn't know I was doing it.  For the most part, I am against cheating.

This was my study plan:  Listent to the teacher, pretend to/actually write stuff down that they say, skim the text book for the jargon the professor said was going to be on the test and write that stuff down.  I would then make up an acronym/codes of all the concepts.  For example, capitol cities of South America: Brasilia, Buena Ares, Bogota, Quito, Lima, Santiago.  BR, BA, BO, QI, LI, SA.
   
You can kind of sing that, and it is easier to remember that the whole thing.  Here is where it get's sketchy, literally.  I would then write the code on my hand.  During the test I didn't usually need to look at it, but I could if I needed to.
   
My fourth and final year at Norther Arizona University, my husband asked what I was writing on my hand, and I told him just what I told you.  He looked puzzled, then laughed, and told me that I was cheating.   It had never occurred to me in 16 years of schooling, that I was cheating.  I had done all the work to remember?  Right?  Was this why the university was so easy for me?  Maybe.  I graduated with straight "A's".

This is me cheating.
The sign in the dressing room said,
"No Photography".
I took it anyway.  What a crazy retro dress!!

I didn't know I was cheating, yet it still counts as cheating.  I can't stand people taking shortcuts to win, but I am just a big cheater too.  Which is why I was so frustrated with Words With Friends.  Friends don't let friends cheat.  It took a friend (with benefits) to point that out to me.  Thanks Silas.

P.S. I do occasionally use a dictionary for Scrabble, if I'm stuck.

Random Coast Photos

On a clear day.
How did the stone get that way?

If there is a fire, the pug makes herself comfy!

I did finish all of these, but it took 2 hours!

Brain, Brawn & Beach

We spent last weekend on the coast and it was fantastic.  The weather was cool and sunny, and the company was exceptional.  Our friends are nearly as nerdy as we are, adventurous, and full of energy.  Because of this,  it was not alright that there wasn't a dry way across a small river to the big beach.  We used levers, muscles and a civil engineer to turn a fallen tree, into a bridge.

We were quite proud of our work.  We watched visitors come to the beach and casually walk across our bridge.  The kids excitedly told the first few folks of our creation, but I think they felt snubbed when they weren't met with as much as enthusiasm as we had.

The day finished off with a walk, a sea food meal, a game of hearts (which was good for the competitive types, not me, so much, but I'll play) and a lot of laughter.  One of the best days of the year!

simple machines

muscles and a calculator watch

next, a pyramid 

Guts Doctor

My husband has been suffering (though cheerily) with an illusive ailment for several years.  It swells his digestive track, and makes his life miserable.  There has been little to do to make it better.  Unprocessed food and pharmaceuticals have been nearly ineffective, but this story isn't about that.

Last week he swallowed a small camera, that made its way through his digestive system and then out (see photo).  It sent information to a pack that he wore all day.  The pill got stuck, and he had to have a procedure to push it through.  While in his throat, the doc took a biopsy.

He even smiles when there's a complication.

As my husband woke up from the ordeal, the doctor talked to me.  He told me he took a biopsy, and that the problem might be Eosinophilic esophagitis.  Eosinophilic esophagitis?  That sounds like something someone made up to use 23 letters in a name.  He explained it to me briefly, and as he walked away, I took out my fancy phone and Googled it.  You can too if you want, though it is rather boring.  I had it on Wikipedia in 5 seconds, reading about it.

Do not ask where this pill has been!

Today, ten days later, I got a letter from the doctor in the US mail.  It was printed from the same Wikipedia site I read, stem to stern, last week.  I know the intent was to inform us about what is going on inside my husband's body, which is really kind.  It did make me laugh a bit too.  I'd like to welcome the "guts doctor" to the Information Era!  It saves paper.

Photo A Day: January

I made a challenge for myself to take a photo a day with my phone.  It is a fun challenge, but one a day is a challenge.  It was a good thing to try something creative everyday, and see what feels right.  Some days/themes felt wrong, for instance: My Bag and Colour (it was Australian).

Here were the photos that I liked the best:  

         The themes, from the top left, clockwise:

Morning: My coffee pot and my kid's reflection

Something I Made: the girl and the hat

Reflection: Me driving (I took this waiting in the car, not driving)

My Sky: looking up through the Douglas Fir at my house

Two Days of Hands

Somehow, my husband set his phone to play music as an alarm, last year.  The phone didn't hold much music, and the first song on the list was "With My Own Two Hands", by Ben Harper.


Every morning, a few minutes before seven: descending bass line....dun, dun, dun, dun, dun.....I can change the world, one, two, with my own two hands....


The first few days that this song pulled me out of my slumber, and got my feet to the floor, I was in a fog.  I'm usually in a fog until 10 am.  I wasn't processing the song, it was just noise.  Here is the song. You only have to listen to the first 5 bars or so, after that it is obscenely repetitive and inspirational.





Normally I can lie in bed for a slow start, but not to this song.  By the fifth measure, I was out of bed.  It was like a bit in my mouth, I had to get up.  I started to wonder why this song was making me  uncomfortable and exhausted.  (I started thinking about it after 10am.)


It is a tall order to wake up everyday being prompted to change the world with your hands.  You can't do it by lying in bed until 7 am, or, that is what it feels like if it's the first thing you hear every day for a month. 

I do want to change/influence the world for the better, every day.  Yet, I don't know how I did yesterday, and I'm unsure how I might do today.  Gandhi said that I should be the change I want to see in the world.  Jesus said, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.  I'm vacillating between doing good, and just being.  Am I doing enough?  No.  Am I enough by design? Yes!

What I want is that just being me, is enough to make the world a better place.  I can't wake up to, "I Can Change The World" because no one can DO enough.  I don't want to try.  Waking up to this song just makes me feel like a failure. 


Little darlings, I decided that if I have to wake up to a song, I choose, "Here Comes the Sun".

This Is The Hand, Joe Dimaggio

When I was in college, I read many books for young adults.  One was Pink and Say.  It is about an unlikely friendship between and black boy and a white boy, during the Civil War.  The meaningful part, is that one boy has shaken hands with Abraham Lincoln.  When the two boys become friends, they shake hands, and one boy tells the other, that he has now shaken the hand, that shook the hand, of Abraham Lincoln.  

Now when I meet people who have good stories and have met influential or famous people, I think about our hands. My grandpa shook hands with Wyatt Earp.  I have sat on the lap shaken the hand of a man who shook the hand, of Wyatt Earp.  I once spent the day with the friends of Martin Luther King Jr.  I have shaken the hand, of a hand.....

This week I met a man who played baseball with Joe Dimaggio.  He is in the hospital, and in his late 90's.  Our conversation was difficult.  What is it like to look back on a life, full of adventure, tragedy and love?  How do you process nearly 100 years of birthdays, babies, Christmas, cars, coming and going?  What does it mean to live a life of hope?  Why is the end of the story so sad?  Why is the middle of the story so hard?  How could the colors of a life be so vibrant?

His tears were the answer: there is no answer.  His life has been rich with, well.... life!  One day at a time, he lived/lives.  That day, he remembered.  I got to be a witness to his story.   

Yet, his life is bigger than just one story.  Our stories connect, and there is no story without each other.  Knowing our time together was winding down, I put out my hand.  He looked at me through his tears, and grabbed my hand.  I told him that now, my hand has shaken the hand, that shook the hand, of Joe Dimaggio.  I took a piece of his story with me as I walked out of his room.  My  hand and his hand, his hands and Joe Dimaggio's, my heart and his heart.

I'm On Fire

For my birthday in the summer I got an iPhone.  It goes against my pragmatism to get such a fancy (smart) phone, but I love it!  LOVE!  It has been 1/2 years since I got this new phone, but it is as if I just got it 5 minutes ago.  I have happily made an exception to my usual policy of practicality.

I have an application on the phone that is called Instagram.  It is a forum to share photos, much like Facebook, but just photos.  After you load a photo to Instagram, then you can put a filter on it or zoom in. It is pretty creative.  You can also look at photos that your 'friends' have taken.  I like it, because I really only like looking at people's photos on Facebook.

This month there has been a challenge to take a photo everyday on a theme.  The day I took this photo, the theme was 'close-up'.  This is my hair.  This is the fire that comes out of my head.  This is what I have to contend with, up-close.  

I used to be offended about the stereo-types and nick-names assigned to red heads.  Aren't stereo-types judgmental?  I don't want to be judged for something that I did not choose, or how I look.  

Finally after many years, I have relented. This brightly colored mop does tell you something about me.  I am fiery, I am temperamental, I'm hot-headed, I'm passionate.  My locks are curly and messy, and I'm in good literary company: Anne of Green Gables, Little Orphan Annie, Pippy Longstocking, Mary Jane.  I have little influence over the condition of my hair, much like my ego.  All I can do is take care of it/me, and accept it/me as I am, the package and the product.

My phone is helping me be happy being me, which is not you.  Just don't get me mad, because I can lose my temper quite easily.

Mad Milk Disease

I know you are thinking that we already talked about cows this week, because of Cowboys & Aliens.  I like cows.  I'm surprised I have so much to say about them.  I'm a redhead, and we can get fired-up about needless things. So, here goes: 


Are we so far removed from our food that this seems logical?  The milk this ad council is trying to sell you does not need to be shaken because it is HOMOGENIZED!!  It has been processed, just like almond, soy, rice, and hemp.  After it is heated to kill any living organisms, then it is pressed through a sieve with tiny holes, so that every piece of milk is the same (homo) size, then they (the milk folks) add vitamin D.  


Adding Vitamin D is a throw-back to the industrial revolution (over 100 years ago). People started to get vitamin deficient because the sky was dark with coal smoke, so the milk manufacturers added 'D'. 


If you had a cow you, or a friend, milked 2x a day for a total of 8 gallons per day, then put that milk into the refrigerator, then you would have to shake it, if you wanted it to be all the same consistency.  It might make you as mad as this woman, and if it did, I know a great therapist.  Maybe milking a cow in the wee hours of the morning would be cathartic for you, if you have so much anger.


We should know where our food comes from, and how it is made.  I'm not a cow-milk person, unless it comes from a cow I know, and then I can't get enough.  I'm sure I was a mom's milk person, but I'd have to ask my mom.  


What I do know is where my food comes from, so I am not blindly persuaded by advertising.  This ad is banking on our ignorance, and is deceiving.  Rice milk is just as bad/good for you as milk is.  Milk is not sacred, unless you are an infant mammal.  Even then, species is important for survival.   


Anyway, drink what you want/can.  

Review: Cowboys & Aliens

The tag-line on my blog is, "there's a good story in every day".  You would think that if you were a cowboy living in a town invaded by aliens over 100 years ago, you would find a good story.  I could find a good story there, an adventurous, compelling, good vs evil story.  This movie has the potential to tell a good story, but.......there are so many 'buts'.

There are so many things going on in this movie that you don't even care about one of the characters.  There are so many simultaneous story lines and themes, there is no theme.  The thin plot is a medium for CGI slimy aliens.  It was literally: action scene, action scene, talking, action scene, slimy alien, death scene, action scene (this was the outline for the writer(s), I'm sure).

Remember when you cared about Jason Borne?  The whole of all three movies was a long run-on action scene, but I cared.

I love a good cowboy movie, and love a good sci-fi, so I was disappointed that this movie was so silly.

If you want good cowboy and alien entertainment, watch Firefly.  It's a television show that only ran for one season, and was summed up with a great movie after it was canceled.

Better than Words

Over New Years, we took a long weekend and went to visit friends in Ohio.  It's not a tourist destination, but it was a vacation.  We took a break from emptying boxes at our new house, and sunny warm winter weather.  We traded it for limited obligations and warm and satisfied hearts.

These are folks who are teaching me to love, and be loved.  There are more, but my mind/heart is full of our time together today.