Turkey Day Travel

I'm calling this Gumpy's Girls. That would be Sarah, youngest daughter; Halle, granddaughter; and Amanda, oldest daughter and mom to Halle.



We made a last minute decision Thursday morning for Scottie to drive to San Diego for the Thanksgiving celebration at his daughter Sarah's home. I'd been telling Scottie to go and let me stay home with pets, but the sweetie didn't want to leave me alone.

But, you see, the thing is I don't care about Thanksgiving. As a life-long vegetarian the whole dead bird thing grosses me out, and the requirement of getting family together as opposed to a choice. . . . well, it's not something I do easily.

So that morning when Scottie talked to his oldest daughter Amanda and his Dad on the phone, I could tell he was getting teary-eyed at the prospect of missing the family get together and sensed a weakening of his resolve to stay home. Sure enough he agreed that he really wanted to go. Traffic around LA was so bad it added an hour and a half to his drive, but he still made it in time for dinner and had a blast surprising all those who'd been being told we weren't coming.


This is Uncle Dougie and cousin Bruce along with John, the long-time significant other to Scottie's ex. Dougie at 90 is very frail, and Bruce is an absolute gem to see that he gets to all the family events.


John and grandson Declan. Deckles doesn't look thrilled. Don't know why.

Brother-in-law Don, Grandpa Hughie, and sister Susie, all very photogenic.


Sarah, Amanda, Scottie's ex Sally, and Susie. All standing in the brand new kitchen at Sarah's house, designed and installed by Bobby.


I stayed home, put together a couple of veggie dishes and ventured across the road to friend Judy's home where it was just one of his sisters and brothers-in-law. Just four is much easier on my nerves.

On Friday the San Diego contingent did the zoo, then Nati's for dinner - our favorite Mexican dive restaurant - then Scottie left at 3 AM, REALLY, was home by 8:30, rested for all of half an hour, took the recycling stuff to the recycler, and then we went for a nice bike ride. The man has ridiculous amounts of energy!

Weathering

Gray skies, wet ground, droopy trees,
all bearing witness to the rain that fell here last night.
The sense is sad, melancholy, even heavy
as if not just rain fell from the sky.
Dreams perhaps.
Shattered upon landing.
Broken into a million tiny shards,
too tiny, too fractured to ever be repaired.
Will I walk the dogs today?
Likely not.
This is the kind of day
that finds me wanting to curl up by a fireplace
with a good book or a catalog
to dream new dreams.
To buy this, make that, go there.
Restorative dreams.
I need days like this this,
days when I can shift gears,
move into a new vision of my life,
find a way to fit the me that is
into the possibility of a me that could be
somehow greater.
Smarter, maybe. Or kinder.
Not some silly pop-psychology new me
but the old me improved.
Finding a rough corner that could be
gently sanded
so as not to cut so deeply
into the hearts of others.
Or perhaps a mental limp
repaired
with new mental muscle
built around it
that I might not lean so
in one direction or another.
Stability.
Not huge, dramatic changes.
No LOSE 20 POUNDS IN TWO WEEKS
claim.
Not LEARN HOW TO SELL ANYTHING
TO ANYONE IN SIX EASY LESSONS.
No, not those.
Quieter changes, more subtle.
Perhaps none but me will notice.
But after many of these
gray-toned days,
decades of them now,
the me that is emerging is somehow
both stronger and softer.
And if I could show you
the girl of twenty-five,
brash and brittle,
heedless and often thoughtless,
then you'd see.
She did change you'd say.
A BRAND NEW PERSON IN
FOUR EASY - DECADES.
Not lessons or weeks of course.
These are not the changes that come
with either speed or ease.
Like last night's rain
gently wearing away rock
in such slow and tiny increments
that none will notice
the change taking place before them.
Inevitable, these changes;
and so much gentler when one
has learned to let them be.
It's a gray day, heavy even.

Can it REALLY be???

Almost the end of November? Really?

I'm finally recuperating a bit after the workshop last weekend. Doing two sessions in one day really took the starch out of me, but it was a very good financial result for the Arts Alliance.

My own two wreaths that I made for samples are being put to use. The one with succulents is attached to one of the very old wooden wheels by our entry door. It has to come down for watering, but I like it in this location.




The other, made with spider plant and coleus and planted front and back, was meant to hang in a window like this:

I'm finding though that I don't like how much dirt and moss falls to the window sill. The only reasonable window in our house is in the back hallway which is a travel zone - just to the right of the back door and the hangers for jackets, etc., and just to the left of the dog door - so it gets bumped and jostled. Consequently I'm thinking maybe I'll let the back die off and use it as a table center piece for Christmas. It will be fuller and fluffier by then. Hmmmm.




Letting sleeping dogs lie. . . well, this is part of my morning routine. Whichever dog gets to my studio first curls up next to me. This time it was Buck. So, Cocoa got the pillows at the other end.


Outside both dogs have places they like to station themselves for guarding. For some reason Buck has adopted a new spot on the bank near the propane tank. That's a very recent development, following a couple of incidents of a bear in the garbage and much smelling by both dogs in this vicinity. Guess it now needs guarding.


My big job for the day? I'm going to finally go through all the stuff I accumulated while getting ideas for this house. I have notebooks full. Really. Finally I've come to understand that if we ever move and build again I'll want to start over anyway. So, out it goes.

I'm one of those people. You know the ones. Can't seem to live without a project, preferably several, going on at all times. Mine lately have all been about landscaping. Time though to start on the project for this year's Sofa Art show. This time it's Sofa Art goes Vegas. Should be fun.

Beneath the Oaks & Beside the River

Saturday was a fantastically fun day and a very, very tiring day.

I led a workshop on behalf of the Arts Alliance to demo making living wreaths. We were fortunate enough to get permission from the local coffee shop, The Buckeroo, to hold it in the outdoor area next to the river, and Nature cooperated by giving us a sunny and unseasonably warm day with temps rising into the 70's by mid-afternoon.
One major glitch - with an entire pickup truck load of materials the wreath forms were missing. Did I forget to pick them up? Did I lose them while cleaning out the storage shed? Don't know. But at the last minute, I had to make a run to the hardware store for wire cutters and chicken wire and workshop participants also learned how to make their own form. Surprisingly, no one complained and all had fun.

This group lives down in the valley and drove up to the foothills for the workshop. All are either related or work together. The little girls on Mom's lap, McKenna, is only 4 and became my "helper" for the day earning a whole $2 at the end of her efforts. You can get an idea of the wonderful setting beneath big oaks and right at the river's edge.


These two, who decided to make things other than wreaths including little pots of plants and mud balls of plants. I'm asked to bring the workshop to the February birthday party of one of them. She and her mother have asked for a "green" theme and decided on the spot that this would be a fun thing to do. Cool.


At one point, wrapping fishing line to secure the wreath, four hands are better than two. I loved how all the adults, even those with manicures, dug in and had fun playing in the dirt!


And, I wasn't going to include this picture 'cuz I hate the expression on my face - somewhere between words and giggle - but since I rarely have photos of myself on here, I decided to include it. The Buckeroo has a little stage where they occasionally have outdoor music. It made the perfect spot for demo with everyone able to see and hear.


All the photos are from the morning session. By the time the afternoon session was over yours truly was completely exhausted. I still had to clean up and load everything back into the truck. But, the truck DID NOT get unloaded until the next morning.

Newly added to my wish list: A small barn on our lot where I can do this once a month as a business - called Second Saturdays - and also work on making garden stuff, recycled art, whatever. If you know anyone giving away barns, let me know.

Ancestry

My granddaughter is doing a school paper on her family tree and called for a bit of info. Set me to thinking. Obama is a self-described "mutt", and I'd guess I'm similar - but different, as are all mutts. We don't have those long, serious pedigrees or numbers after our names. No two of us are ever the same. I like that.

Given that my biological father was killed in an accident a few months before I was born, I have very, very little info about that side of my family. Thanks to my older brother I was able to give the granddaughter the names of his parents (funny, I don't think grandparents), but it ended there. That group of people, while related by blood, was never my family. And, the man I've always called my Dad, and will always feel that way about, was never a blood relative. So he doesn't fit into a family tree. Doesn't quite feel right.

Makes me think of gardening. I go to the nursery in the spring and buy a six pack or flat of little plants. I don't know who started them, put that seed into soil, but without that no flowers or veggies would follow. Equally important though is the gardener, or in Dad's case farmer, who tends and fertilizes and trims when needed. Without that, what would we have? Weeds perhaps or maybe overgrown plants that flower but fail to fruit.

And me? Well, if I was a plant it would be one of those that comes with a warning - maybe "can be invasive" or "difficult to establish" certainly not one of those labeled "easy to grow." So that Dad who doesn't fit on the family tree had all the hard work. I think at least there should be a side branch labeled perhaps "Family of Choice" or some other title that would convey that without this individual the sprouts might never have reached maturity or might have yielded only cracked or bitter fruit. (Yes, I know some would say "cracked" is still appropriate.)

So, though he's long gone from this world, thanks to DAD, the only one I ever knew. I know I didn't make it easy. I think it was Erma Bombeck who wrote a column about step-parents that ended with a wonderful statement something like I have a step parent; I've just forgotten which one.

Birthday Bashing

Where to start?
Well, I took the bus fromVisalia to San Diego on Monday so I could spend some time with my father-in-law and give him his shots of blood thinner for a few days. He's doing great! Then Scottie drove down Friday so we could celebrate his 70th birthday. A photo montage:

Dougie, my uncle-in-law and Hughie's baby brother. I think he's about 92 or so. Not sure. He's had some health issues but still loves a party!


Cousin Bruce, Dougie's youngest son. Bruce drives a race car for fun when he's not doing some sort of stupefyingly brilliant stuff for work, and he took me for a ride - in the dark - in the city - FAST. I managed to return with dry pants, but barely.


Bobby, the son-out-law and Foxy, the grand-pup. Both kinda cute!


The birthday boy - in no way does he look SEVENTY! Oh, and that would be me with him.


Grandpa Hughie, all 97 years and going strong and Jimmy B, Scottie's oldest and dearest friend. Two of my favorite men!


And the boys. . . I wonder how many photos of these two together have been taken over all the decades since the met as third or fourth graders. Want to start an argument? Ask who ate the last hot dog on the eons ago camping trip. Each still blames the other.


Sara, youngest daughter and fourth-generation San Diegan, presents the icecream cake. It's a tradition.

Yep, I think he had fun!