Category Archives: Uncategorized

Swimming in the bowl, Shopping at the Depot and Scarecrows…

I am not growing used to swimming in the fish bowl and I have started using some of the machines at the gym. I am now officially a hamster/fish. I don’t like gyms but as gyms go, this one is ok because it’s mostly a physical therapy kind of gym where the old and injured go so there aren’t too many desperate people trying to make their bodies fit the mold.

This weekend we took the grandchild shopping. It has become an increasingly difficult proposition. It cannot be done solo. It turns into something like this…

As a grandparent these scenes are not nearly as distressing as when one is a new parent.

This is Mr Chips at the Home Depot…

October is just about done. Thank the gods. This town is,once again, over run with Scarecrows. There are well over 200 scarecrows standing around freaking me out and causing people to drive 2 mph down the only commercial street there is in this town. That means a drive to the grocery store that used to take 5 minutes is now something one has to prepare for. Bring water, a snack and maybe a book on cd for the drive. This time of year turns me into a Grouch.  I mean a real ugly one.

If you can’t come to see the Scarecrows with the rest of America, you can see them here.

I’m back on the left coast for well over a week now and have managed to unpack and make a batch of soap. Productivity level is low. Very low. I can’t believe I’m going to say this but…I miss the nauseating heat and humidity. I’m screaming on the inside at the thought of fall. I am bundled up against the gray skies and brown landscape here. There is a tiny sesame seed size seed of hope. I started knitting a sweater. Not much to go on I know.
The grandchild is huge and his unfortunate haircut is growing out. He swings between being a warm sweet snugly thing to a wild thrashing, screaming, hitting beast. It’s almost like he’s doing an interpretive dance about his grandmother. He is also a natural born organizer. He likes tidying up. He does it without being asked and sometimes without even thinking about it. This is a trait that skipped a generation and it’s a lovely thing.
I’ve joined the gym so I can swim because it has become an addiction. It’s a one person pool with adjustable waves. It’s pretty awful but that’s the thing about addiction. One will go to any lengths. Olympic size or 10-12 feet.

Namaste

  

Counting Down, Morning at the Library and Casket Shopping

Countdown to take off. We leave on Tuesday and although I am having a lovely time, there is this hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach… I don’t like waiting.

There is also an internet problem at the house and so here we are, the monk and I, at the library and there is a couple sitting next to our table having a loud conversation. He is snippy and she’s wearing a sparkly shirt and is trying not to provoke him. The library isn’t just about  books anymore.
 I like to think of my mom counting down also, eager to have her space back to herself but I know that’s not true. She will miss us, as messy and large as we are in her space. I would be anxious as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I love my own space. I like the tidiness of it. The quiet. The monk gets up at five every morning and turns on lights and starts his day. He is a turtle carrying his home on his back. He is home wherever he is. It’s an amazing thing to watch. Like a nature show about a creature you never knew existed.

The couple is gone and now a little man in shorts and an orange v-neck sweater and fishing hat has taken their place. He is sitting, quietly reading his newspaper.  

The monk makes plans. He gets up in the morning and says “today we should…” and he rattles off a complete schedule. Yesterday we had to get up and go to the movies and then we had to go to lunch, Cuban because we had Italian the day before. After lunch we went home so he could bead and work on his translation before pool time. He swims in circles around me while I swim from end to end endlessly. My arms feel strong even though they are wrinkled. I have discovered that I can’t swim and laugh at the same time. That ends the outside activities portion of the day. Evenings are spent watching tv in between and around beading and translating for him, drawing and reading for me. But I’m mostly watching tv lately. Saving it all up for when I go home where I will not be watching food shows though I think I can maybe watch on my laptop. Addiction is a bitch.
Now I have to go casket shopping. Yes, casket shopping. My mom has been after me to take her to pick out her box. Seriously. I had done a pretty good job of avoiding this task up until now. She mentioned it to the monk and it is now on the schedule for this afternoon. I still have a plan on how to avoid this. Stay tuned. So this morning she asked if I’d do some comparison shopping on line before we go to the cemetery this afternoon. I found this.

and this…



If you click on the picture it will take you to an article about Why Caskets Occasionally Explode.
You’re welcome.
I finally made it to the beach. I stepped foot in the Atlantic Ocean. It was warm and lovely.  I’m so glad I got that done because it looks like rain for the next four days! What?
The Monk is here and we have already settled into a routine, the Monk’s favorite thing. I’ve never met anyone who loves organization as much as he does. If he weren’t a Buddhist, he would be an Organizationalist. I think I just made that up but I’ll have to check with Google. We swam in the pool yesterday and he showed me how to float so I can get some sun on my legs so I won’t look like I’ve been dip dyed. I don’t think I’ll have enough time to even things out.
Mom is doing much better, an amazing recovery. It will be hard to say good-bye though. She likes my being here even though I am not the best company. My husband seems to like my company also so I need to get home. Internet signal waning…
Namaste

Ponderings, Laundry Room Shenanigans and Beautiful Skies

Here I am, still. The Monk arrives day after tomorrow and then time will speed up and before I know it, I will be back home, wiping Sir Chips Ahoy’s butt. I feel like I’ve been here exactly as long as I’ve been here, almost three months. I am acclimated. 84 degrees now seems on the chilly side.


I feel like I am supposed to be doing something here. Not just sitting with her in the afternoon watching cooking and travel shows and making her tea in the late evenings and taking her to her doctor appointments. I feel like I’m supposed to “wrap things up”, conclude and resolve and make right all wrongs. Express my innermost self and listen to confessions, admissions, lessons. It’s not like that at all. It’s quiet and I am on almost constant orange alert, exasperated with myself mostly for these auto pilot feelings. They are upon me before thought, they erupt like little volcanoes. Thankfully I do not allow them to flow freely, diverting the flow instead into a reservoir where I can study them later and then release them. What does it matter if I understand why or where as long as I can just let it all go. In the end none of it really matters. What she did, what I did, what she said etc. Is there any real gain in getting it all sorted out and understood? Will anything be different? I don’t know. Some relationships are meant to be worked on and out and through to a deep place and others, just aren’t. Though I believe we are here for the purpose of connecting with one another, I don’t think it’s possible to do so with everyone. There are degrees. Levels. Depth isn’t always possible for whatever reason and it can feel like a failure. But it isn’t. These are things I am examining in between rain storms and swimming, reading and cooking and eating and watching way too much TV. I long to be home. I long to have this life figured out enough to maneuver my way through with some semblance of grace and gratitude. I long for a greasy BLT.


There is something afoot in the apt complex laundry room. There have been no less than three notices about “activities” and measures taken to put a stop to them. Locks were installed but broom handles and bricks were used to prevent the locking. Another notice this morning warns that stronger measures are being taken. Cameras will now be installed. They’re watching you, whoever you laundry room marauders are.  

Shots from this afternoon….





The highlight of my day so far, was the produce place. I am so head over heels in love with this place that I am thinking of moving here just to be near it. Last time I was there they had some pretty rare fruits like Durian and Dragon fruit, I was overwhelmed and with my mother and brother and the place was packed as it was today but today I whipped out my phone and clicked away. This place is a food paradise.
Here are some of their offerings:

Indian Bittermelon, they also had Chinese Bittermelon which were bigger and looked more like bumpy cucumbers.

I forgot what this is called. Spiny yautia maybe?

They have a remarkable selection of root vegetables but there were too many people to get more pictures.

In addition to produce they have an amazing selection of international food stuff like these oats from Jamaica.

Extra strength German vinegar via Korea?

Ackee from West Africa but apparently the national fruit of Jamaica? I see a chihuahua face in there, do you see it?

Tastee Cheese!

Prices are excellent. Sorry Publix, this place puts you to shame.

And it’s not just about the food. There are skin and hair products like this Gorilla Snot Gel. Extra Brillante or Explosivo. Dude.
On the way home I saw this place and thought “how cool, drive-thru green tea!”. Yea, not really. It’s a Chinese restaurant. So now I know where I can get some drive-thru Chinese.
My face and arms have turned a pretty caramel color, like my mom’s. I am trying to figure out a way to swim so that my legs will get some sun too and I won’t look like I’ve been dip dyed.
namaste

Disappearing

It’s a positively comfortable 86 degrees today real feel 93.

I am still here. I am waiting for the Monk who will be here on the 21st.  We made these plans last year. I was supposed to go up to NY for a few days and I was actually looking forward to spending some time in the Temple but oh well, maybe next year?

Mother is home and getting around on her own, cooking her own lunch today after I made a lentil soup yesterday that would grow you some dreadlocks along with red burning eyes. Ooops. I thought it was delicious but for a woman with heart and blood pressure problems, a potentially deadly meal.  It seems I don’t cook well for others. I recently attempted a delicious falafel and tsatsiki meal to welcome my cousin and though I ate some of it, it was a hot mess I did not feel was suitable for any audience. Luckily she brought some food with her because if you’re Puerto Rican you don’t show up at any ones house without some food.

I’m reading and thoroughly enjoying The 100 Year Old Man who Climbed Out The Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson.
from the book:
“you should beware of priests, my son. And people who don’t drink vodka. Worst of all are priests who don’t drink vodka.”

I bid you a great morning, afternoon and evening.

If Disney Was a Hospital and if I were Smoove B

There was another set back. Another hospital stay. This hospital has a real Disneyesque feeling about it. If I were in charge the doctors would be dressed like Goofy and The Beast and the nurses and aides as Mickie and/or Minny or the little Mermaid. The new wing, the one she was in last week had free valet parking and fountains and computer stations every few feet and a cafe that had a vegan lentil and rice bowl on their. The rooms were spacious, there was artwork hanging on the walls. The older wing, the one she is currently in is the older (wing) Disney. A grand piano that plays itself (!) right by the elevators and and anchor as it’s symbol. Each wing has a symbol. Yesterday I walked from the new to the old, the dolphin to  the anchor, something that is JUST NOT DONE. They have little old men in golf carts that take you from one wing to the other, a free ride, no ticket required, but I haven’t been walking because it’s 90+ degrees outside with 90+ humidity and my glasses fog as soon as I step outside. So I walked through endless warrens with endless turns and doorways and I thought about that Being John Malkevich movie and thought I might eventually come upon a ¾ floor with a hole to fall through. Who would I become if I could become someone else? Not John Malkevich. A restaurant critic most likely or a shoe model? A therapist with my own brand of therapy, something Disney or Star Trek related or a museum guard? The Dog Whisperer or Daniel Craig? Or just me, only liberated and smooth.



She’s getting sprung today but you know…that don’t mean a thing.

Keep it Real.

Birthday Mandala

Twenty-two years ago today, just a few miles down the road from here, I gave birth to my beautiful baby girl.  My partner was with me, in my face, breathing hard with me and never letting me go and he never has let me go, ever.  I’m a little sad that I’m not home with them today in our little nest, eating cake and smiling and happy that we made it to this day because there were times…

I will celebrate from here, I will make another chocolate concoction and put a candle on it and give my deepest thanks for all of it and send my beautiful girl all the bestest wishes there are in the universe and thank her again and again for being my greatest teacher and for bringing that wild rascal into this world for us to love and hold.

I made this mandala today out of all the leaves and flowers I have been picking here and there…

I have no idea what most of these are. I believe the purple ones are plumbago, the most delicate ones. The one in the center is an impatiens blossom that was laying almost in front of the door and I walked right by it before I realized what it was and accepted it for the gift it was.  One meaning I found for impatiens is motherly love.

Mother is doing better. Coming home next week if all goes as planned. We all know how that goes but I am keeping my fingers crossed, she’s about sick to death of The Romulan Rehab as am I.

Namaste Everyone.

The other day at the Romulan Rehab a frail looking woman in a walker stopped her long slow journey down the hallway and beckoned to me with her hand. She was mumbling and no one else was around so I took her hand and tried to decipher what she was saying but I realized quickly they weren’t words I could understand so I smiled at her and tried to take my hand back but she tightened her grip and the more I tried to take my hand back the harder she held on. She was remarkably strong for someone who could barely walk and it was with real effort on my part that I was able to pull my hand back. That’s usually the part in the movie where the shit starts getting really scary, cue the scary music…

That place is freaky man!

Meanwhile back at the apartment….



I painted this picture of my abuelita. It’s from a tiny photograph that my mom had enlarged and retouched. There was some damage to the lower left hand corner so someone painted some roses there. I’ve been picking flowers and leaves from around the neighborhood and pressing them so I just added some of those instead of painting the roses.


I’m not just eating and fighting off old women! Though I do have some salt cod soaking in the fridge for tomorrow, stay tuned, and I’ve already finished my, use what I have dessert from the other day so I made some more today. 

Yes I did.
Ciao y’all

I have spent the last two weeks alone here in my mother’s apartment. She spent over a week in hospital and is now in rehab. I don’t know for how long. She seems to make progress for a day or two and then something else happens. The place she’s in is one of the saddest places I’ve ever been to. Yesterday while visiting I saw a woman with gray skin. It was surreal. She looked like something from central casting for a sci fi movie. Where the old and infirm Romulans go when the end is near.
I have been swimming and walking when it’s not storming and keeping myself occupied with various projects, cooking delicious food, reading and watching bad TV. I am especially fascinated by this one show on the food channel ( I know, I know!) where the contestants are given a basket of disparate ingredients like: soy sauce, chocolate, cantaloupe and marshmallows, and they have a set amount of time to make a dessert or appetizer etc. What amazes and inspires me is the creativity of these people. Each one comes up with something so completely different from the others and their dishes are wild and delectable. It was with this, make do with what one has in mind that I made my dessert yesterday. I threw some chia date squares, cocoa and walnuts into the food processor and flattened that into a crust. Then I melted a Lindt chocolate bar and added it to some coconut milk and honey and poured it over the crust and let it set in the fridge for a bit. Hallelujah. Scottie, you will love it. For dinner: a lentil, carrot and mushroom soup with a dollop of kale and walnut pesto drizzled with sriracha. OK.

Things I’ve been playing with…


I cut my own hair today. Oh my.

Go forth and make Lemoñade
TV is the devil. With my mom in the hospital there are no Novellas on and so I am left to my own devices. I like the old movies channel and the cooking channel mostly. The movie channel is awesome because there aren’t any commercials but on the cooking and every other channel, there are commercials and at night they’re all about food and lord, they make nasty meat look tasty. See what I mean? The devil. Today I found myself in the kitchen cooking along with the Barefoot Contessa. Why hasn’t someone arrested that woman? She made a grilled cheese sandwich that required 1 cup of mayonnaise along with the cheese and mustard. I had to stop watching to turn my roasting veggies so I don’t know what all else she put in there.
To offset the results of all this food related activity, I am swimming in the pool everyday. I love it. It’s the only time I’m outside for more than the time it takes to get in and out of the car.

When I’m not looking at food on TV or eating it, I’m looking on craigslist for my next vehicle. Pickings are slim but I did find this. A little over priced, but you do get your money back so…

I don’t know what this is but I want to eat it.

Bon Appetit!

I don’t know exactly what this photo has to do with this post. I just know that I love him. Everything about him. The expression on his face most especially. 
Mum dearest is in the hospital once again, this time a late night through the roof blood pressure freak out. There were firemen, very nice firemen, and ambulance and emergency room complete with crazy go nuts emergency room characters. Best one: old sun burnt leather skin guy wearing what was left of a pair of camo pants, in shreds bleeding, shirtless and checking himself out whether anyone wanted him to or not. 
There have been tests after test after horrible test. A brand spanking new hospital wing, with free Internet access (!) but I have to say, the whole thing is so…automated, it feels like you’re on a conveyor belt headed (eventually) toward the edge of a raging waterfall. Best case scenario.
My heart aches for my mom. She is shrinking right before my eyes. 
into the machine.
There is nothing for it. We’re all headed for the bone yard and we do well to keep that in mind. And not in a bad way. Isn’t that part of why we are here? We are born, stuff happens, we do stuff, and then we die. 
There, don’t you all feel better now?
Namaste

Would it be wrong to tie her to the chair? My brother told me he found her on a step stool the day after she came home from the hospital. Day before yesterday I walked into the kitchen to find her bent over with whisk and dustpan sweeping the mat in front of her kitchen sink. Today she’s lifting a large heavy plastic bin searching for 6 tiny screws she knows are “somewhere around here”. Though she is walking with a walker very slowly and eating pain pills and muscle relaxers like candy, the extent of her injury has not yet penetrated her brain. I prefer not to go over the obvious once I’ve mentioned it a time or two, letting reality do the talking, it’s much more convincing than I could ever be.
The day after her little sweeping frenzy she was in such pain she swore she would not bend down to pick up a thousand dollar bill. Now I look over and tell her she probably shouldn’t pick up and move that bin and she says it’s not heavy and I say, oh, OK and she says, oh alright, I’ll leave it. 
I’m a terrible nurse/caretaker. I am impatient and my compassion is a small country with well defined borders.


Her friends came over yesterday. One  woman from Nicaragua, the other from Ecuador. They brought a plate of the most delectable looking (and tasting) home made Indian sweet pastries! Wish I knew what they were. I know this, they were scrumptious and odd. Sesame seeds, sweet potato, pistachios, walnuts, honey and who knows what else.
They sat and watched Coming to America with Eddie Murphy and the Nicaraguan woman’s laughter was the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. Before they left they stood around my mom and she called for me to join them we all held hands and they prayed with their eyes closed while I watched their faces and listened. Though I am not a stranger to this landscape, I do not frequent the territory, I run from it as if my life depended on it. I always feel a perverse impulse to do something untoward.


hakuna matata

89degrees
RealFeel 98
big white puffy clouds
humidity 65%
another beautiful day here on the other central coast.
i think i can feel gills forming.

My mother’s immediate neighbors are an older couple that have a sweet little garden
that the husband lovingly tends. Yesterday when I came home he was gently removing tiny dead leaves from a potted plant on the window ledge. I’ve never seen such a tidy little garden. I see him sweeping the walkway that runs around the entire first floor here, at least twice a day. His outside shoes are cleaned and left to air on the bench outside their door. I imagine the inside of their little apartment is immaculate and orderly. Every dish, spoon, towel, pot and pan in it’s perfect place. Every stitch of clothing hung or folded into perfect rectangles in a high polished Regency dresser. Their days as orderly and clean as their apt and garden. I find myself entranced by them and have tried to strike up a conversation but he resists my overtures. Maybe he’s just slow to warm and open.

I am a lover of routine. I find comfort in it even though I understand that it can lead to a dull sort of sleepwalking through life. After the chaos of the last few years I’ve clung in vain to some version of routine. It’s an illusion, it’s ill and it’s for losers. We have no real control, and yet I cling to it, because it makes me feel like I’m in charge and why that should soothe me remains a mystery. I know that what I should be doing is learning how to bob and weave and lean and dive into uncertainty and doubt. Abandon hope and embrace whatever comes. Surrender.
If I figure out how to do that I’ll let y’all know.

namaste.