Monthly Archives: October 2014

Mantras for Precarious Times

Deva Premal

A miraculous cure for a cranky baby. He lays in his bouncy chair staring out the french doors, eyes at half mast. Thank you Pandora for Tibetan Chant Radio.

Little Dog curled into a donut on the sofa.

Little boy playing with his dinosaurs in the dirt.

Yes. There is a new member of the tribe. His name is Bruce. Bruce Wayne.

Es muy guapo. 
The kids are teasing because I’ve bought him a couple of things, one of which is a sweater. It has skulls on it for dog’s sake! They are worried I’ll turn into an old lady with too many cats. And rightly so.

French Chocolates

If you have your health, you have everything
is something that’s said to cheer you up
when you come home early and find your lover
arched over a stranger in a scarlet thong.

Or it could be you lose your job at Happy Nails
because you can’t stop smudging the stars
on those ten teeny American flags.

I don’t begrudge you your extravagant vitality.
May it blossom like a cherry tree. May the petals
of your cardiovascular excellence
and the accordion polka of your lungs
sweeten the mornings of your loneliness.

But for the ill, for you with nerves that fire
like a rusted-out burner on an old barbecue,
with bones brittle as spun sugar,
with a migraine hammering like a blacksmith

in the flaming forge of your skull,
may you be spared from friends who say,
God doesn’t give you more than you can handle
and ask what gifts being sick has brought you.

May they just keep their mouths shut
and give you French chocolates and daffodils
and maybe a small, original Matisse,
say, Open Window, Collioure, so you can look out
at the boats floating on the dappled pink water.

Ellen Bass

weekend update Oct 2014

I’m back from my shakedown cruise to the lake.  Our new bug out vehicle, which I’ve named Helen, performed admirably. She’s steady and sure and cozy. I had one big wrinkle which drove me home earlier than I would have liked but I knew it was not a big deal and that Tearful would “fix it” and he did. He’s an enlightened genius.

I picked the lake for this trip because it’s close and I’d been before and loved it. The town of Lake Isabella itself is kind of a sad little place. Not much to it beyond the gas stations and the Vons, a funeral parlor in a strip mall.  The draw for me was the free camping along the lake. There were a few other RVs and the weather was lovely but like last time, the wind at night was crazy go nuts. I felt like I was on a small sail boat being tossed by waves all night long.
Sometime in the middle of the night a man started shouting a name I couldn’t quite make out but I did make out that he was calling him a child molester. It went on for a while and I finally fell back to sleep and dreamed I woke up and there was a circus setting up right outside my windows. I think I’m over camping at this particular spot.

I do love the spots I found all along the Kern River, north of the lake and a hot springs, just south of it. There’s a little town, Kernville, where I stopped in for breakfast at the Big Blue Bear cafe. Had one of the tastiest breakfast burritos I’ve ever had and stopped to watch old ladies rockin’ out on banjos at the car show.

How can you not love a place that has rooms to rent above the saloon?

My Baby Girl Got Married

Under the oak trees at her Grandfather’s house.

She was a gorgeous bride.
It was a glorious day.
All went well.
Tearful walked her up the aisle…

Mom fussed at her dress…

We are recovering after all the festivities. Big smiles on our faces. Grateful for the many blessings bestowed upon us. 

Wings In My Belly

The wedding is in 3 days. I have that feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something BIG but your mind won’t give it up. It’s hiding it somewhere waiting until it’s too late before revealing what it is. And here I am sitting around watching the butterflies floating around the Jupiters Beard with a million flapping wings in my belly.

I made a most beautiful jacket to wear over my dress.  I got all Project Runway on myself and hacked a pattern to my own specifications and then started hand sewing wavy seams around the hem and cuffs and then added a binding around the edge. I wanted to add some beading in but stopped myself. I might do it later. The fabric I used had been tucked away for a couple of years waiting for this jacket. A creamy ivory silk brocade.

Is it officially Autumn yet? Peaches are done, that’s for sure. I’m always a little sad when the peaches are done.

The Last Perfect Season

by Joyce Sutphen

No one knew it then, but that was the last
perfect season, the last time sky and earth

were so balanced that when we walked,
we flew, the last time we could pick a crate

of strawberries every morning in June,
the last time the mystical threshing

machine appeared at the edge of the field,
dividing the oats from the chaff, time of

hollyhocks and sprinklers, white clouds over
a tin roof. Everyone we knew was young then.

Our mothers wore dresses the color of
dove wings, slim at the waist, skirts flaring

just enough to let the folds drape slightly,
like the elegant suits our fathers wore,

shirts so white they dazzled even
the grainy eye of the camera when

we looked down into the viewfinder to
press the button that would keep us there,

as if we already knew that this was
as good as it was ever going to get.