Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's cold and windy today, as the the old year is being swept away by the new.  My husband and I went on a trip with our older son, his wife and our three year old grandson.  It went super well, and we loved everything we saw.  But for me, the treasure was the time with the three of them, as normally they are busy working and going to preschool.  We had adjoining rooms and our grandson would knock and visit us.  We did a lot of playing we were on a train.  Tonight we are having dinner with our younger daughter, son-in-law and younger grandson.  Then I am babysitting so they can go out with friends.  Being with the grandchildren rings in the new year perfectly for me.  On the trip, one morning when I asked my grandson how he had slept the night before he answered:  "I struggled".  I kept myself from smiling, but I'm smiling now!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend called this morning and we were wishing each other lovely holidays, when she said it had been a hard fall for her.  The nearby fires and crushing suffering they caused had depressed her, and she said she went out last week and bought a "boat load" of toys for the the children who are homeless because of the the fires.  She took them to the fire station, and the firefighters said they couldn't promise they would get to those kids, but definitely they would reach poor children.  I know that the victims don't need "things" directly, as an avalanche has been donated, but money to organizations who help them is the way to go.  My friend feels deeply about the people and animals lost and suffering because of the fires.  I told her I've been struggling as well, and see my therapist every few weeks because I feel so bad.  She also is reeling from her best friends' son dying suddenly of a heart attack, and watching their grief has saddened her so much.  How do we balance supporting those who are suffering with keeping up our own spirits?  She's doing the right thing:  taking what actions she can and being a good listener.  And I am being a good listener to her, because she is my friend.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Two of our kids flew out this morning to their inlaws.  We are now on our own a couple of days until we fly with our older son, his wife, and our grandson south on Christmas morning.  So no big dinners to make, no stockings to fill, just quiet and laid back until we drive to the airport and meet them.  We'll open our few gifts tomorrow evening, and I bought frozen crab cakes and half of a blackberry lime pie for our Christmas Eve repast.  Today I persuaded my husband to go see "Green Book" and it was the perfect Christmas movie, with lots of laughter and wisdom.  Viggo Mortenson was amazing, and Marashala Ali great as the pianist Don Shirley.  When we return from our trip, I am dying to see "On the Basis of Sex".  Lots of treats in store, if not sugar plums!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday we took our grandson to the museum, but discovered it opened later than we had thought, so we wandered to the nearby lake and watched the coots and bufflehead ducks.  When you are with a young child, your view of the world gets very specific, and I was as engaged as he was with the diving and movement, the black and white duck that looked like it had a tuxedo on, and no it wasn't a penguin.  It was meditative.  At shoreline, there was a mess of litter, and the irony of a man-made lake from damming up an estuary, and the man-made trash uglying it up, was not lost on my husband and I.  But to our grandson, there was no judgement.  People were so friendly, as they strolled, ran or biked by us, maybe because of our grandson.  He, in turn, waved to all and said hi to some.  The world to him is utterly glorious, and ducks an amazing phenomenon.  And for a little while, we were in his world, and it was magical.  And for all we know, his world is the truer one.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our younger grandson is having a fit over sleeping in his crib, especially for his nap.  His babysitter couldn't get him to nap, and I couldn't either last Friday.  Yesterday morning he woke up at 4: 30 am, after screaming in his crib at one am and he refused to nap, and got grumpier and grumpier.  After our daughter picked him up, she stopped by for us and we ate at a nearby Mexican place we love, but he wouldn't eat but a tiny bit of rice.  I offered to help put him to bed, as our son-in-law was at his class, and my husband went on to his chorus rehearsal.  I distracted the baby tyrant while my daughter got his sleep clothes out, warmed his bottle of milk, and then we read to him.  He conked out immediately as she rocked him, and then we sat downstairs with the monitor and watched some stuff on TV.  It was lovely having tea and looking at one "Parks and Recreation" episode, a couple of skits of Trevor Noah, and then the first part of a silly Hallmark Christmas movie, with the couple who don't like each other eventually falling in love.  It was just our speed, and it was just us gals mellowing out.  I don't get to do that with my daughter since the terrible two came on the scene, and though I adore him, I loved having my daughter all to myself for a little bit. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I saw the film "Roma" yesterday and it blew us away.  It truly is a masterpiece.  This film is genuinely focused on women and their lives, their private, ordinary lives.  It's about race, class, patriarchy, and what a family is.  Yet there is no preaching.  The focus is on one family and three women:  mother, grandmother, and servant.  the cinematography is by Alfonso Cuaron, and he wrote and directed it.  Wow, all I can say is wow.  I cried, laughed, agonized and empathized.  After the movie ended my friend and I sat there for a few minutes, stunned.  It reminds me of "Les Enfants du Paradise", the great nineteen forties French film.  The pageant of humanity, the suffering, the love, the interconnection between all the people.  There are scenes in this film that will haunt me forever.  It also reminds me of "Moonlight", Barry Jenkins' masterpiece.  The viewer cares, really cares about all these people, even the terrible ones.  It opens your heart to a world you thought you knew but had no idea of.  Wow.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I attended a committee meeting last night.  My friend talked me into it.  It's a great organization which helps kids, and, years ago, I helped the head of donations plan their first event.  But there are so many worthy causes, and I have my own hobby horses.  Right now, however, I was feeling the urge to volunteer again, and last night I slipped into the saddle again very easily.  It felt comfortable, though I didn't know anyone except the host, and I offered to do only what seemed a good fit with me.  But they were curious about my experiences fundraising, and I surprised myself by remembering quite a bit.  I realized I had really done quite a few extraordinary things, and helped a lot of people along the way:  schools, shelters, art programs, and other worthy causes.  And the basics are still the same:  inspire people who can give to do so by showing them the good they will do.  So now I've got a script to write for phone calls, some contacts to make, and though I was the oldest person in the room, they were inviting and I liked them immediately.  So I've got skills yet!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a holiday brunch yesterday, co-hosted my younger son and I.  We work really smoothly together, with the help of my husband, his wife, our younger daughter and her husband.  Everyone pitches in and just does what needs to be done.  This year is our first daytime party.  We switched from evening because of our grandchildren and our kids friends who have little ones, and because some of my friends have trouble with our stairs at night.  I loved having it in the daytime, and the rain held off and the children could be in the back yard to blow off steam.  We cooked four kinds of frittatas, waffles with syrups, fruit, whipped cream and other goodies and served mimosas and two huge cakes:  buche de noel and coconut cake.  Everyone was on a happy sugar high.  A big hit was the toddlers climbing up and down the inside stairs.  I could have charged admission!  Even the cleanup wasn't awful.  The last of it was put away this morning.  Last night, exhausted, my husband and I had McDonalds and watched "The Bishop's Wife" with Cary Grant, Loretta Young and David Niven, backs aching but soooo satisfied.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just talked to my friend who is undergoing chemo for breast cancer.  She's in good spirits, and has only one more chemo treatment to be done.  She had to hang up because she is getting a white blood cell shot.  My friend and I will be visiting her in January, and she seems to be looking forward to that.  Her daughter will be with her over the holidays.  I feel a long way away and not helpful, but that is the fact of the matter.  I send cards and call once in a while.  My friend who is visiting with me is closer to her in some ways, as they went all the way through school together, and their parents remained in the same small town.  On the other hand, until they retired, the friend and her husband were quite close to my parents, who mentored them after college, and they lived in the same city as my parents, so often shared holidays together.  My gratitude for that kindness is great.  So for my mom and dad, if not for me, I am being as supportive as I can be. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I broke down and watched one of my husband's Ice Age movies.  He finds them highly entertaining.  I do not.  It turned out that the one he picked (#3) was one I'd seen ages ago with my foster granddaughter when she was little.  See, that's the problem.  I have seen all of these kiddies films with her over the years, she's now thirteen, and I feel like a martyr.  I have even seen the Alvin and the Chipmonks films.  I vividly remember "Chipwrecked".  The horror, the horror.  I'll admit I loved the Box Car Children and BFG, and I have a soft spot for Brave and The Incredibles.  But Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, the How to Train your own Dragon ones, and others were torture.  What I do for love, right?!  I like the ancient Disney ones like Lady and the Tramp and Robin Hood well enough, but gee.  My husband is on his own with Bolt and Shrek and Toy Story.  I'd rather read a book, and do, when he gets his kid on.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been coordinating with my childhood friend to fly to see a mutual childhood friend, who has stage 4 breast cancer and is in the middle of chemo.  She lives in Texas and we each are coming from a different coast.  But my flight is non-stop and my friend's complicated.  She has to drive an hour to her nearest airport, and will require a stop somewhere on the way.  We are determined to do this, and cheer up our friend.  It's a tradition we have, the three of us.  Again, it was the middle of the country, but at least we were able to fly together, with only one stop.  My childhood friend prefers to drive, and can do that to see her three grown children and her grandchildren.  But this is a mess, and more for her than for me.  My weather is mild, while her weather and that of Texas can involve ice storms and delays.  I wish I could figure out a way to make it easier on her.  I know she's getting a headache about now.  However, she is intrepid, and will get a flight.  But it's snowing where she lives, and she's kind of blocked in with her computer, and there is no escape.  I feel for her.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is our younger daughter's birthday.  Her celebration gets swallowed up in the holiday blitz, and now her son, who's birthday is 12 days before, draws all the energy towards that event.  She's our youngest by seven years, and I'm so grateful she's in our lives.  She's thoughtful and kind, and very empathetic, as is her husband, and they include us in much of their lives.  That she lives nearby is wonderful, and that we see her and her son at least once a week because we babysit him, is a blessing.  She's a hero.  She teaches third graders, and these are kids without much English and writing skills.  I know her devotion.  She won't give up on even one of these kids.  She has a very long day, often getting up at six with her toddler, and coming back at five, putting him to bed, then working at home while he is sleeping.  Yet she takes him on fun excursions and reads and plays with him.  I try to babysit so she and her husband can get out, but often she's too tired or pressed for prep for her class.  And we won't even discuss what she gets paid for this.  Teachers are the most undervalued workers in America.  Tonight we go out with her, our son-in-law, grandson and our son and his wife, who also lives nearby, for a tiny celebration and a meal out.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Every neighborhood has it's secret delights.  Yesterday we took our grandson yet again to see the koi fish swimming in our neighbor's front yard, as well as their water lilies.  And along the way we saw "The Grotto" which really is a stone grotto with a pond you can see from the street.  We cross over the bridge between streets where the underground creek surfaces and stare at the water.  The creek goes under and up under and up along our streets.  We can hear the frogs singing all year long.  We have two small parks, one with the name "Round Park" because of it's shape, and if you go there you can see balls being chased by dogs and tramp among the leaves.  We also have a parkway that is our little strip of woods, where people stroll and walk their dogs and we can pretend we are in a forest.  I don't think about these places much consciously, but they enhance the ambiance of the neighborhood.  I'm reminded of our funky Fourth of July parades where kids decorate their bikes, a band plays on the back of a pickup truck and families and dogs are decked out in red, white and blue.  We have children ring the bells for the thirteen original states, a speech about what our country means to us, singing, watermelon, beer and cotton candy.  We're weathering the Trump era, hugging our values to our chests to remind us of what we hold dear, even if our President doesn't.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, the tree is decorated, the house looking festive, and I'm listening non-stop to Christmas songs.  Next it will be watching my favorite holiday movies:  Christmas in Connecticut, Elf, Miracle on Thirty Fourth Street and The Bishop's wife.  I've got to hunt them up today.  I ordered two cakes for my younger son's and my holiday brunch:  a huge Yule Log and a coconut cake with lots of frosting.  We're doing waffles and frittatas and fruit salad, mimosas and apple juice.  We've restructured our whole event for the tons of toddlers who now come.  And for my generation, which has difficulty with our steps and the dark.  Now we're all lit up with sunshine, hopefully.  I've purchased every kind of syrup known to man:  boysenberry, elderflower, ginger, raspberry, blueberry, apricot, etc.  Now as a diabetic, I can't eat any of this, but I have my sugar free syrup and can load on whip cream, as I make it without sugar.  No problemo. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We just got a call from our younger son and his wife that their baby is a boy.  They sound really happy and are so excited.  We all just want a healthy baby, bottom line.  I wasn't sure they were going to ask about the sex of the baby and I don't think they were either, but doing the test today must have made them curious.  We are so lucky to share in their joy and anticipation.  When I was sending out holiday cards with pictures of the three grandchildren inside, I was thinking that next year there will be a fourth photo.  Each of my four kids will have one child.  Wow.  It sure helps with the holiday spirit, and how nice for the grandchildren to have cousins.  Family is a gift and a treasure.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went to my grandson's house early yesterday, so we could play and get relaxed.  For the first time I was putting him to bed at night.  Yes, I've done it a million times for nap, but not the nighttime big deal.  When I babysit him at night he's already asleep or my daughter puts him in and I watch the monitor.  He was great, and other than ordering me to sing song after song while I was rocking him, everything proceeded according to plan.  When I put him in his crib, he directed me to shut the door.  That was at seven thirty and as I watched the monitor downstairs, I could see he was lying down but his eyes were wide open.  He finally closed his eyes at eight.  He evidently has many issues to think about.  That mind of his is going a mile a minute.  This morning his daddy texted me that he was disappointed I wasn't there when he awoke.  I believe we may be ready for an overnight at my house soon.  I'm going to suggest my daughter buy one of those "Going to Grandma's House" overnight bags for kids, and I can begin to talk it up with him. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It was our younger grandson's birthday party and a bunch of toddlers looked confused, got interested in toys or the bouncy house, snacked, and generally had fun.  The ice cream cake was very successful.  Some kids even ate their whole piece.  It helped that it had gummy bears on it, and yes, there were color preferences, but no one fell apart over that issue.  No blood was spilled, though there were sore heads from kids bumping into each other and a few tears.  Our grandson was stunned, shy, happy, bouncy and fatigued by the end.  I'm sure he's napping now.  His nanny came with her boyfriend, and they were pretty delightful.  I can see why he adores her.  Both sets of his grandparents were there.  My other grandson attended and he was thrilled with the bouncy house.  I held an adorable six month old girl for a long time and she was curious and mellow and such a delightful armful.  Now I need a nap, but maybe not.  We're going later to get a Christmas tree, and our younger son is helping with that, bless his heart.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I whipped around today shopping a bit for the holidays.  It's the Big Game today in our town, delayed from two weeks ago by the bad air.  I don't believe in football...but...it's my Alma Mater and I have fifty years plus memories of being an undergrad and going to games, and we had season tickets a few years ago, and when I see the band marching or hear it on Thursday nights practicing, then I get competitive and want them to win, win, win.  It's in my blood.  It rained this morning but it's sunny now and a great day for the game.  I still read about all their games in the newspaper, and follow some of the NFL players like Aaron Rogers, who was an undergrad here.  It's a brutal game, and I never allowed my sons to play, but my Dad got me started when I was little, my brother played in high school, and I can't quite let the whole thing go.  I really do want my team to win.  Pathetic but true.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We woke up to a deluge of rain this morning, a veritable torrent.  It's calmed down now, and we are grateful for any and all rain.  With it comes the clean air.  Last night we visited our younger grandson and gave him his presents and brought a tiny cake.  He was thrilled and sang Happy Birthday again and again.  He will love his party even more, but also be overwhelmed.  This was just our daughter, his other grandfather, my husband and me.  Today I am feeling prickly.  Not sure why, but I am going to respect it and take it easy.  I have two mysteries I can read, and my husband and I are about to take a walk in the rain drenched neighborhood.  I'm going to breathe in this fresh air, and think of the animals who will be helped by this storm and the new shoots and leaves it will produce.  Other sentient beings who are affected more than I am, and suffer in silence.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today my friend and I went on a shopping blitz.  We hit Target, Nordstrom Rack, a bookstore and bakery.  We are checking off our holiday lists.  I bought a little green cake for our grandson, who is two today.  His party is on the weekend, but we're bringing our gifts this afternoon and celebrating a bit with him.  He sure has lighted up our lives, and we enjoy watching him on Fridays.  He knows how to singing Happy Birthday, and he will love the party.  In spring, another grandchild is coming, and our cup runneth over.  I love the Buddha nature of babies.  How curious, open, loving and delighted they are, and how much they learn minute by minute.  Witnessing it is a miracle.  I love finding a gift for them and watching their joy.  A tiny car or ball is enough.  All gifts are the same.  As they get older that will change, but for now the whole world is magical. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today my husband and I saw "Bohemian Rapsody".  Wow!  Yesterday "Maria Callas" and today Freddie Mercury.  I loved both films.  The first is a documentary and in Callas' own words.  "Bohemian" is a film with actors, but they look amazingly like the persons they portray.  One an incomparable singer and great beauty, well, actually, both amazing singers and gorgeous.  I cried at the end of both films.  Callas was 53 when she died and Mercury 45.  Great losses.  Both had sad childhoods that causes wounds that would never heal.  They were shooting stars, awe inspiring and swiftly gone.  They were both full of soul, and all about the heart.  They received huge responses because that is how people connected with them.  You could bypass the mind and listen with the heart. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband read me an article in the paper this morning about a black bear who broke into a freezer outside of a man's house.  It was filled with venison, pork and  slabs of beef.  When the man walked outside he saw a stack of sticks near the shed where the freezer with the meat in it.  Curious, he opened the shed and freezer and looked inside to find all the meat still inside.  The bear had selected huge packages of corn dogs, carefully unwrapped each from the plastic, and after sucking off the corn dogs, methodically arranged the sticks in a pile.  Even bears in our culture go for the junk food rather than the pure protein!
I like that bear.  Corn is one of my favorite foods and it was my mother's as well.  Popcorn, corn on the cob, cornbread, corn salsa, you name it, my mother gorged on it.  My father used to drive to the nearby movie theater and pick up and bring back a big bag of popcorn for her.  Now if that's not love I don't know what is.  Popcorn is my dessert of choice, and today I'm going to see the documentary on Maria Callas, and a popcorn bag will be my companion.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Ah, a pound and a half up, but worth every ounce.  We had a great and grateful Thanksgiving.  Breathing clean air was wonderful, the rain was wonderful, the meal was wonderful and the  family was all together wonderful.  The little grandsons bungled, the granddaughter helped cook and was her aunt's assistant for the pies.  We all got along pleasantly and everyone agreed it was the most delicious meal ever.  The washing dishes part was shared by all, and by the next morning I could put away the platters and big bowls and all the paraphaealia we use only once or twice a year.  By the next evening I'd given the kids leftovers and the refrigerator could close again, and we'd had turkey cassarole for our day after  Thanksgiving meal.  Yesterday we drove our older daughter and granddaughter to the airport, and we had a salad for dinner and watched "Chappie".  Today we go to the premiere of an opera, "It's a Wonderful Life", which has gotten good reviews.  Then on to regular life for a few weeks, and the ordinary tasks that comfort us.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm so grateful for the whole family being here for Thanksgiving.  Last year all but our younger daughter, her husband, and son, made it to our older daughter's house, where, we had a lot of fun and, despite setting the oven on fire briefly, had yummy food.  We ordered most of it, but cooked the turkey ourselves, and two of the three grandchildren were there.  We were all very tender then, as our older daughter had been diagnosed with metastasized cancer, and she was drained from the brain radiation.  Since then, they've found a chemo pill that works wonderfully, and she has resumed her life enthusiastically.  She has a job she adores, her novel is being published, she's taking amazing trips with friends, and now she's flying down for this Thanksgiving.  Her daughter is already here.  What a difference a year makes!  We are blessed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been spending my time with my ten year old granddaughter and the younger grandson who is almost two.  Today my younger daughter and I drove up to see the older grandson.  It was a bit overwhelming for the granddaughter to be in the room with two hyper toddlers, and but she aquitted herself well.  We went out for pizza and she had them both crawling all over her and running trucks up the back of the booth.  At one point the older toddler danced in the middle of the cafe, and the younger was squirming on the floor.  We are not easily embarrassed and we carried on blithely.  We left the granddaughter with them for a couple of days and the younger grandson conked out the minute the car started.  They are all stir crazy from being inside, and the air today was dreadful.  Hope is on the way, as we are supposed to have rain tomorrow night or Wednesday.   We don't know how long this pocket of bad air will sit over us like a blanket of doom.  This is uncharted territory.  As is the big climate picture.  I hope a lot of people wake up and smell the smoke.  We need to take drastic action, and now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're preparing for our granddaughter's visit.  But mixed in with the excitement is worry about the bad air quality, what to do that is inside, how to protect her until something shifts.  Tonight we'll pick her up, come home for dinner and stay in.  Tomorrow we will go to a science center, maybe an ice cream parlor, and make a gingerbread turkey at home.  Then we drive her to our older son's house, where she will be for couple of days until they drive her back, and by then, we hope, the air will be much better.  And when I feel bad I think about all the missing people, the horror stories, the lives destroyed and the people having to start over.  Then I pray.  This Thanksgiving, it feels like our blessings are an affront to massive suffering, and it's agonizing to be grateful when we need to take in the thousands who need food and shelter and protection from breathing the horrible air. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

What a crazy day!  I was babysitting my grandson, talking on the phone to our younger son who was taking his pregnant wife up to the cabin, arranging our granddaughter's visit tomorrow, all at the same time.  After my daughter picked up her son, I accompanied them to the kids' haircutting place, and took pictures while he cried in her lap.  He was not a happy camper.  Only the Thomas the Train video kept him in the chair.  After, he was happy with his orange sucker, and he looked so BOY with his hair slicked back.  Then home to check on the birthday gifts I'd ordered, and see where I am with being ready for this holiday week.  The answer was not comforting.  The smoke must be in my brain!  Still hoping for a shift of wind or rain or well, a miracle.  And the losses from the fire amass like golems lurking in the background.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I have been distracting ourselves from the smoke and cabin fever by watching "Pride and Prejudice", both the long Colin Firth one and the short Laurence Olivier film.  We discuss the merits of each version, the acting, and the impression each leaves.  We both liked Firth and Ehle, but my husband prefers Olivier and Garson.  We love the short film's happier tone and lightness, but the last third is totally inaccurate to the novel.  Though we love that Lady Catherine, she is not recognizable from the book, with her abrupt about face in approving Elizabeth.  The BBC film is much more accurate and fills in many important plot points left out of the short film.  The former is much darker and the later comedic.  I am a stickler for not overlaying modern interpretations on the novel, and so I do find the BBC film more faithful in intention to render a perfect novel perfectly.  But as I say this, my one quibble with the novel, and both films is Lydia's and Mrs. Bennett's ignorance of what Lydia's elopement means to the family.  I can only conclude that Lydia is a sociopath and her mother amazingly stupid.  Something about that device of the elopement and Darcy's rescue to redeem the family is so implausible as to be a glaring fantasy.  I'd have asked Jane to change that plot point and invent one that is more in the whelm of possibility.  What?!  Edit Jane Austen?!  Cabin fever indeed!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm house cleaning today.  I've washed down cabinets, wiped the floors, and and will dust shortly.  Since we're stuck inside, might as well make the environment pristine, or what passes for clean in our house.  I began married life at nineteen being the housekeeper for an estate with 14 huge rooms and 7 bathrooms.  My husband was the gardener.  No, the experience did not bear any resemblance to "Lady Chatterly's Lover".  I quickly became disillusioned with the cleaning.  Next week, everything had to be done all over again.  So, you see, I have the skills, just not much motivation.  I also try to use environmentally friendly products, and between you and me, they don't really do the trick as well.  Lots of elbow grease is required.  I always feel I'm on the side of servants, so I can't really bear to hire someone to do this.  I remember vividly my thoughts about my employer on the estate.  And they were not pretty.  I'd rather suffer than feel guilty about all the blessings I have.  Well, I feel guilty anyway, but less so.  And, it's good exercise!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I ventured out to Trader Joe's, then bought yarn, presents and cards for upcoming birthdays, and a bigger space heater for my studio, which with it's cement floor and lack of insulation has had me chilled to the bone.  I was fluttering around due to cabin fever from hiding from the smoke, depression from the victims of the fires, and generally a sense of not being able to do anything about any of it.  At Trader Joe's I ran into two friends, one of whom was wearing a mask, the other going crazy as she teaches elementary school and no outside recess is testing the ingenuity of teachers and staff.  Three kids "escaped" yesterday, and all are wired and off the wall.  My daughter and daughter-in-law, who also teach, are frazzled and can't wait for the Thanksgiving break.  Then we feel petty when so many have lost their lives, their homes, their jobs, their pets.  Thank goodness for the people who go to fire areas and rescue the animals, bring them here, and wait for the owners to find them when they get oriented and have a place to stay.  They are courageous to be so proactive.  They save many, many animals.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday, tired of being trapped in the house by smoke, I saw a movie several blocks from where I live.  "Can You Ever Forgive Me?" very much exceeded my expectations.  It is the true story of Lee Israel, who forged letters from famous writers, and sold them as original.  Melissa McCarthy still has a mouth on her in this film, but it seems natural and realistic, versus her over the top potty humor in most of her films.  The role is perfect for her, and for Richard E. Grant, and they both steal the show, skipping gleefully down the street.  While not appealing people, they are sympathetic and we know they are intelligent, but frustrated by whatever demons haunt them.  You don't know their childhoods or back story, which I found refreshing, and that helps us not feel manipulated by their dire straights at the time period portrayed.  Two Eleanor Rigbys, lonely as it gets.  I recognized these people, they were real, and I wished them well while knowing it was not going to turn out happily.  I had tears in my eyes at the end, when Lee confronts her ex-girlfriend, played perfectly by Anna Deveare Smith, and the fairy tale ending does not apply.  Truth, unvarnished, but breathtakingly real.  I was blown away.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Still the strange light, though the sky is a bit more blue today.  I can see the wind in the trees, so the threat and fear of fire is ever present.  I was going to take myself to a movie today, but I waited too long and "Colette" is gone.  I watched a twenty minute video yesterday of Queen's Live Aid concert portion.  It was beautiful and powerful and Freddie Mercury was amazing.  But then the review of the film, "Bohemian Rhapsody" was not good, so I guess I won't see that.  I can listen to their music at home.  I just haven't been compelled to see anything that is out right now.  The election took the sap out of me, and now the fires are scaring me.  I think I'll go buy Thanksgiving cards, because connecting with friends and family is appealing, and I am looking forward to our granddaughter coming next Saturday, and our older daughter after that.  Yesterday was the anniversary of my mother's death, and I miss her after thirty some years.  She was complex, difficult, smoked, drank, and wanted things her way.  Her disappointment was palpable.  Yet she was all heart, funny, endeared legions of friends to her, and her family was close.  She had amazing design skills, and could make anything:  a coat, hat, sweater, painting, embroidery, crafts of every kind, and she could cook up a storm.  She adored her grandchildren and was infinitely amused by them.  She taught them card games and watched them swim in her pool.  She was a family person through and through.  So am I.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The light is strange:  orangish and sickly looking.  We are huddled inside because of fires, and it's not going to let up for days.  Our pregnant daughter-in-law is stuck in her place, and her brother, his wife and their baby, who are visiting, are trapped inside as well.  Yesterday our son, daughter-in-law and grandson north of us were okay, but today their air quality is bad.  There is no rain in the forecast.  More people dead and thousands of homes destroyed.  My son had sent me an air filter email, and luckily I'd bought two and yesterday they arrived.  The air quality in our house is good, but they are both turned on, in case that changes.  Today I ordered two masks.  Just in case.  We worry especially about our daughter-in-law with asthma and our pregnant daughter-in-law and our two grandchildren here.  Our granddaughter is in another state.  A state that gets rain.  I think we need a rain dance.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, lucky me!  My cellphone was at the theater and I was able to pick it up last night.  I need to write a thank you to the staff, who were so sweet about it.  Now that I've got it back, I feel determined to not be so dependent on it and get my photos all into my computer.  In the meantime, losing it distracted me from election results, and now I hope to not be distracted by upteen emails a day and texts begging for money.  I'm such a polite person that I actually debate sending something to each and every one, then mostly delete the whole lot.  What I love is my photos.  Two of my three grandchildren are living far enough away that the snaps and videos are infinitely comforting.  When I miss them I scroll down their photos and smile.  I try not to bore friends with these; I just enjoy my private look-see and go on my way.  A little hit of happiness.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I lost my cell phone last night at a play reading.  My friend and I sat in the front row, so I had to put my bag under my feet.  I didn't miss it until I got home, then it took me about an hour to search, and when I was doing that my son called and was able to use GPS to locate it at the theater, which is nearby, but of course no one was there.  I left a message, but will have to wait around today until a person listens and looks for it.  I've got my fingers crossed.  Luckily, I have a password, so no one can get in, but my photos, my photos!  My kids and grandkids.  My son-in-law was in a process of getting my phone to automatically back up the photos onto my computer, but hasn't had the time to get it up and running.  So now I am tethered to my landline until I know if my phone is there for sure.  Otherwise I shut it down and will have to get another.
You know what's aggravating?  How much it upset me.  I kept telling myself it's no biggie, and people lose their belongings in much worse situations:  fires, burgaries, purse snatching.  I'm just a big cry baby!  It took me forever to get to sleep last night, because I remember reaching for my phone before the performance began to shut it completely off, and didn't find it, but thought it must be at home.  If only I'd looked then!  What a dope I am.  Oh, well, I guess I already knew that. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We voted this morning bright and early.  Yesterday my husband fell and hurt his wrist, so he has an appointment to see the doctor this morning.  I hope it's not broken or badly sprained.  We were just walking along and he stumbled and fell, putting his whole weight on his hand.  It's a jungle out there, at least for those of us aging and having more trouble with our balance.  I hope his fall is not an omen for the election.  I've been super jittery and so is everyone I know.  I realized today I've put off buying the new Haruki Murakami novel because I'm not really in the amused, ironic frame of mind to enjoy it.  I've lost some of my sense of humor.  I've not got the lightness to read him right now.  Instead I'm reading a book about Guantanamo prisoners, by Dan Fesperman, and it's darkness fits right in with my mood.  Before that I read "The Survivor's Cafe", about the legacy of Holocaust survivors.  I'm a regular little cloud cover.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My practice involves turning and facing patterns in my life, so that I more fully understand my motivations and have responses that are measured and not reactive.  Saturday my daughter-in-law and I discussed them moving after the baby because their place isn't big enough, which is true.  They find the housing prices here prohibitive, as does everyone, and they may move north.  My reaction every time she or my son mentions moving is pretty strong, though I attempt to hide it.  After all, they need to do what is right for them.
But this time I didn't turn away from the fear that arose, but connected it with long ago.  My first husband threatened to take our two kids and go back to his home halfway around the world.  Then he locked me out of our place twice for several days, and wouldn't let me even talk to the kids, who were toddlers.  I still have PTSD from being separated from them suddenly and without anyone caring for them but him.  I realize I irrationally fear separation, despite our kids having lived on the east coast and abroad.  Almost fifty years have passed, yet when any of them moves away, a cold terror begins in my heart.  Well, the fear is ridiculously unfounded at this point in time and has been for decades, so I'm going to notice when it arises, and be amused at myself.  After all, the kids are married and have kids of their own.  It's no longer my job to protect them.  And it looks like all four of them enjoying seeing us often enough that I'll be seeing them plenty.  SO I CAN STOP WORRYING.  Sigh.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The time change makes everything dreamsville, and even the light looks different.  Going back an hour should benefit me because I wake up early every single day.  But the dark at five thing is dreadful.  We walked around the reservoir today and it felt hot, but that was because we weren't really beginning at 10:30 am but right before noon.  The sun was just as hot as the day before, time change or no.  I've been trying to get my phone to work for texting to encourage people to vote, but evidently the instructions are beyond me.  I'm going to have to call my friend and see if she can help me.  She's already texted 500 people!  As if I needed to feel any dumber about this technology stuff.  Everything about it makes me jumpy and scares me a bit.  Oh well.  I need some technical support.  If that fails, I'll just try tonglen meditation and pray for people to vote.  I'm more comfortable with the meditation thing.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm going soon to have lunch and shop for maternity clothes for/with my daughter-in-law.  I treasure this time with her because she's super busy with her job and commute.  I've made a tradition out of taking my daughter or daughter-in-law maternity clothes shopping, beginning with my older daughter ten years ago, then my daughter-in-law three years ago, followed by my younger daughter two years ago and now my younger daughter-in-law.  As with a lot of my traditions, I began it myself, because neither my mother or mother-in-law offered for me, and I could have used the help.  My mother was a terrific seamstress, but I guess sewing maternity clothes was pretty boring.  In Fiji, pregnant for the first time, I used a treadle sewing machine to make myself some shifts, but they were pretty dreadful.  Also, back in the day, maternity clothes were hideous:  mushroom shaped tops that made you look like a circus tent, and lots of peterpan collars and ruffles.  Not my best look at five feet tall.  Now there are respectable and stylish clothes, and in fabrics that are super comfortable.  I missed that boat, just like I missed safe car seats, baby monitors, sound machines, and every sensible baby item and all the cute ones.  So today will be fun, and I can make up for my own lack of support in the dark ages.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went around with my daughter and grandson while he tried out the trick-or-treat thing.  He was too shy to say trick-or-treat but managed to say thank you every time.  We walked the neighborhood before dark, and he handled the decorations, including scary clowns and many, many huge spiders (a fear of his) well.  That is because he was absolutely enchanted with the candy, which he'd never had before.  As each piece went into his bag, he stopped, insisted he "try it" and munched away to the next house.  Near the end he spied a little girl about his age in a rainbow skirt and a unicorn horn.  I think he thought that costume was the cat's meow.  Soon he unraveled from sugar and the day's exhaustion, and was brought back home in his mother's arms.  He had a little yogurt and one bite of mac and cheese and he was done for the day.  Bath and bedtime stories were the next big event.  I returned to my house where my husband was handing out candy, and since we have a lot of stairs, few kids rang the bell.  But the last group of thirteen year old girls asked him if he wanted them to sing, he said yes, and they did.  Pretty adorable. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We drove up to our cabin overnight, to get a water leak fixed and talk to a contractor.  There was no one around, and we walked to the tiny restaurant for dinner and then found our way back by flashlight.  Late in the night I was laying on the sofa and there was not a sound, when an owl hooted three times, then at intervals again for a couple of hours.  I couldn't sleep.  I kept waiting for the next communication.  And I realized the owl was busy and nighttime was his element.  I wondered what tiny creature was being stalked.  It was very Halloweeny, and tonight is the real thing.  I'm going around with my daughter, son-in-law and youngest grandchild.  He is a dragon, and a butterball turkey kind of dragon.  I'll phone my other two grandchildren and wish them well.  I give books instead of candy, but there will plenty of sugar, I'm sure.  Since the entire country is in a ghoulish state, I can't think of a celebration more appropriate.  Let's witness the kids' innocence and our failure to fully protect them.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We went with a friend to the Richard Strauss opera "Arabella" yesterday.  The music was sublime and the voices terrific.  Seeing a comedy-romance rather than a tragedy was a welcome relief.  When we were riding home and turned on our phones we saw that the Tree of Life synagogue had been attacked, and our joy turned to sorrow.  At a bris, no less.  What should have been a celebration for a new life beginning became instead a horror show.  What popped up in my mind was gathering some friends and "guarding" a synagogue during services.  After all, most of the dead are my age or older, so if someone has a yen for gunning down old people, we can make ourselves the target, not innocent worshippers.  It's difficult not to think of our current national situation as a deeply dark period, more frightening than any horror movie or Halloween decoration.  We need to look at ourselves and find our better natures to combat this evil.  And evil it is.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My younger son and I had a rare afternoon alone together.  We saw a show he had installed at an art gallery an hour away, and we had lunch first.  The show was small, but breathtaking.  Agnes Martin paintings were in the middle two rooms and Navajo rugs were in the entry room and back room.  Each rug and each painting was spectacular.  The sense of Agnes Martin's living in the southwest was readily apparent.  With each piece, rug or painting, the closer I got, the more detail and color appeared.  There were many surprises:  flecks of red in what seemed from a distance monochromatic, and variations of yarn and color seen only as you stood a foot away from a rug.  The rugs were vivid strong deep colors, with a lot of earthy brown and deep blue of a night sky.  Martin's paintings were seemingly stripped of color except for pale peach, a luminous yellow, a washed out blue.  Yet they were the same landscape.  And they were not only representational but spiritual.  You were pulled to step into the painting or rug.  upon close viewing, the flaws in Martin's lines and the weaving in the rugs highlighted the humanity of each artist.  We took each other's photo before our favorite painting and rug.  Then we stopped by a university art museum and looked at old faves and a small show of Elizabeth Murray, who couldn't be more different, more cartoonishly playful.  Her pieces were huge and some sluggy brownish, and others neon psycadelic.  Her joy in materials was blatant and contageous.

We went back with visual memories stored in our minds for touchstones to beauty and connection with our earth and the surprising artistry of humans, with whatever materials they fashion their dreams.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our whole family is so excited that our older daughter is having her novel published!  I know just how much effort and time it takes to get writing out in the world, and we're so proud of her.  Though I have not read it, the blurb sounds exciting and complex and deep.  I can't wait to read it.  Anything worth doing takes time.  Yes, there are the techies who become millionaires overnight, but for most of humanity it takes, as the Brad Pitt character says in "World War Z", us to GUT UP.  My husband's PhD took many years and a previous attempt at grad school.  Writing requires years of lonely struggle, art is often beating your head against a wall, and teaching is all the nights awake worrying over that kid you can't seem to reach.  My family perseveres.  We aren't flashes in the pan, we're a slow cooked meal.  And after all, isn't it the process that teaches us what we need to learn, more than the product?  What we learn is to believe in ourselves, and pursue our passions.  Against all odds.  Gut up, indeed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is our daughter-in-law's birthday.  My husband and I have the tradition of singing Happy Birthday over the phone for our kids and grandkids.  Dreadful harmonies, but we do our best.  And our family is getting so delightfully full that it feels like every other week we pick up the phone.  Our daughter-in-law has only been that for a year, but she is pregnant, so we were singing for two!  How amazing that when your kid marries, you get this new kid and all their family as well!  I enjoy her brothers, their wives, and their children.  I get excited when her older brother is having their second child.  The first has played with my grandson several times, and is quite a character.  We spent the Fourth of July together, and I loved the fullness of it.  The stretching with open arms of the boundary of family.  We're all the richer for it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

One grandson is going to be a butterfly and the other a dragon, so I think they run the gamut as far as fantasy goes.  Come to think of it, both can fly, so maybe there is something about being 2 and 3 that involves the desire to dip and dive and float in the air.  I really lucked out yesterday, because I found a perfect outfit at the first place I looked for the dragon boy.  His size, with a sweet dragon face and scales, and sewn in warm fleece.  Used, of course.  I was helping out because our daughter has no time after teaching to shop on weekdays.  I used to order a costume for our granddaughter.  I think one of the first was a cupcake.  Now, at 10, she creates her own, and she has an adult sewing machine and workspace in the basement for designing.  Halloween was my favorite holiday, because there were no gifts to buy and I and then my kids got a chance to express themselves.  Yes, there was the downside - eating way too much candy, but my husband and I liked to costume ourselves as well.  One year I was a pork entree, with a cardboard table and my head coming out of the center of the plate and a pig nose on top of my own nose.  I must say, it was difficult to dance in.  But it was harder on a friend who was a bookcase with a lamp on top that worked.  He had to stay plugged into the wall all night.  Anyway, I love seeing the grandkids and some of my kids dress up, and if not overdone, the children are awash in joy.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my friend and I saw "The Oath".  It has been compared to "Get Out" and it has some of that same nightmare in suburbia feel to it.  Like "Get Out" the ending is comforting more than likely.  But the film has many funny moments and captures the zeitgeist of now.  I really liked the reversal of expectations inherent in Tiffany Haddish's portrayal of a suburban mom.  Everyone is great in it, and as a portrait of rage among ordinary people it is dead on.  There is some violence, and it is realistic enough to put the viewer right in the middle.  You actually want to shout at the characters and put your two cents into the mix.  I'd say that is the definition of engaged.  And it is, of course, a gigantic metaphor for divisions in our country right now.  Maybe crude, but I don't think so.  And it skewers all of us, like an equal opportunity mirror.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I attended a surprise birthday party for my friend's mother, who just turned 95.  She was genuinely surprised, as they'd already had a nice dinner, with her daughter coming out from New York, last week.  I brought a huge cake, chocolate, of course, and there were about thirty people, including her grandson who came from the south, his partner, and their dog.  It was great to celebrate, and the youngest guest was four months old, a granddaughter of one of my friend's besties from New York.  The day was sunny, the guest of honor as sharp as ever, and the blue of her blouse matched the banner on the cake.  I'm so fond of her because she's smart and we can talk movies and kids and she has a great sense of humor.  But she pulls me also because I lost my mother when I was 40 and I miss her and her presence with my kids and now grandkids.  This lucky woman has seen her kids marry, have children and now two of her four grandchildren are about to marry.  All of her grandchildren dote on her, and she is cosy in the house of her older daughter, and part of a lively life surrounded by people of all ages.  I wish my mother could have lived.  But this delightful woman seems to sense that, and we have grown very fond of each other.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My childhood friend and I are trying to work out a plan for seeing someone who grew up with us who is battling breast cancer.  We have to fly from different coasts and meet up to visit in Texas.  We will do this, but I have a hard time going to back where my brother killed himself.  It's been four years, but evidently I blame the place.  Irrational, but true.  And I am jumpy about a state where they've gone from conceal and carry to open carry.  It feels like entering territory where harm is just a hair's breath away.  I know some stuff will come up for me.  Yet this friend we're visiting was really good to my parents in their later years, and her daughter was my parents' goddaughter.  So it's clearly the right thing to do.  Having the moral support of my east coast friend will be comforting, and when I get there I believe I will be sending all my kindness to our friend.  We will also relieve her husband a bit, if only by distraction more than ability to help.  Okay, I know what's right, I'm going, and now for the details.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Two of us in my writing group are working on pieces that express our feelings for our children and grandchildren that will be a message to them after we are gone.  We realize we may not see the grandchildren's big events:  graduations, weddings, first job, college.  We want to leave an essence of ourselves for them to add to the history of our families.  I've been writing a memory book for each grandchild, and all are done.  Now I will do one for the coming baby.  I was touched when I visited my ten year old granddaughter a while back and she had her memory book readily available, and we looked through it and at photos I included.  She likes taking it out and reading it.  I was surprised and pleased.  I've been giving away jewelry from my parents and grandparents to my kids, but perhaps the words are even more valuable.  I want to say it now, while I can.  I am opening my heart and sharing in a way I haven't before.  It feels good.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Ah, old age.  I see the dermatologist this afternoon, and going makes me nervous, as I've had three skin cancers.  And many biopsies.  And several scares.  I look at my arms and it's like a garden on Mars.  New creatures pop up.  Old ones disappear.  My skin is a terrain unfamiliar to me, and with a look of severe drought.  I worry about a spot under my right eye and it's something else entirely she burns off in a blast of liquid nitrogen.  I did not notice anything strange about the three skin cancers.  You can look at all the gruesome pictures in the doctor's office and yet whatever sprouts on your own battlefield bears no resemblance to them.  I used to have nice skin.  No more.  Every moment in the sun, all the sunburns and the lack of sunscreen when I was growing up, my fair skin despite dark eyes and black hair, has come back to give me a slap on the wrist.  Today, let there be no nasty surprises.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had to laugh when I saw Elizabeth Warren has taken a DNA test to prove she has Native blood.  I guess she's serious about running for president.  I like her forthrightness and determination.  I don't know if she's the best candidate, not at this point, but she speaks her truth, and she appears to be fearless. 
The truth is, most Americans have Native and African blood somewhere in their history.  The white man is a myth.  The same was true in Germany, when blond hair and blue eyes made you "pure".  We are a mixture, and we all come from Africa.  My cousin did a test, and found we have an abnormally large percentage of Neanderthal in our genes.  Once we got over the jokes about our family's behavior, it made sense that we were not only Native, German, Irish and whatever else (on my father's side Scot and English and Native) but that there is this through line that isn't always visible, but finds its way to the present.  We're like the stews I used to make out of whatever was in the refrigerator.  I called it "slop".  It wasn't fancy, but it was hearty and filling.  And delicious.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our younger son and his wife told us last week that they are having a baby.  We are overjoyed.  They found each other relatively late and are so right for each other.  They are even middle children in families of four.  They married a year ago, and now, beginning in their forties, are embarking on their dream of their own family.  Both of them are the last siblings in their families to have a child.  My husband and I worried for them, that their dream might be difficult because of age.  But they will have their baby in the spring, and we will all welcome it with love and joy.  I'm happy for them, and for more cousins for the grandchildren, and for the hope it expresses, and our family's determination to look to the future, and choose love and risk and pain and connection over closing down in fear.  Love is the question, love is the answer, love is the connector and the pulse of the world.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We were submerged yesterday in the three year old birthday party world of our grandson.  There was chaos, there was movement, there was much corraling and coaxing.  The kids were delirious and running like antelope with lions surrounding them.  The party was at a children's museum, so there was much to see, climb on and explore.  Then, after a pizza lunch and cupcakes, the family went back to our son's house, and the presents were opened and intensive play took place among the four cousins.  Finally, the playhouse was built, the debris from the unwrapping cleared away, and it was time to head home.  Our grandson, was delighted, tired, overwhelmed and slightly stunned.  I expect he hit the bed last night like a cannon ball.  I've looked over my photos and relived the experience, and hey, next month the younger grandson has his birthday, and there may be a bouncy house, and the party begins all over again!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Fall is here.  Not just the cooler air, but the fog, the dropping of leaves, the sense that nightfall comes too soon.  The persimmons are ripening, though all the good ones are on the side of the fence of my next door neighbor.  I'm all set up for Halloween, mainly for my grandson, and on a fast ride to Thanksgiving, both grandson's birthdays (one's party is this weekend), my older daughter's birthday, my daughter-in-law's birthday, my younger daughter's birthday, Christmas and so on.  I told a friend the other day, I might as well buy out a card store.  I like the metaphor in the movie "Parenthood" where the grandma likens family to a roller coaster ride, up and down, up and down, and the thrill and drama that make up families.  I'm blessed with such a wonderful family, and I like how such deep love keeps me connected and empathetic towards the universe.  I'm spinning along on our whirlagig planet, and I want to keep my eyes open and see every sight along the way. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I read a thriller recently, "Behind Closed Doors" by BA Paris, and the plot is about a lonely woman who meets a handsome man who woos her and quickly marries her.  He turns out to be a psychopath who imprisons her because he wants to torture her younger sister who has Downs Syndrome.  He has chosen her to get to her sister, and because their parents have emigrated to New Zealand.  It sounds dreadful, but it's cleverly written, and not too far off what I heard during my many years as a counselor in safehouses.  The woman realizes she must kill him, after trying to escape many, many times.  He is a lawyer for battered women, and seeing their injuries turns him on.  She is never allowed to be alone.  He locks her in a bare room when he's away.  They occasionally socialize, but he's right beside her, and his punishments make saying anything impossible.  She has no cell phone, wallet, money, id, passport, paper or pen.  Ultimately, as the time nears when her sister will be 18 and released into their care, she concocts a plan that might work, and the reader is rooting for her, because the alternative is clearly her and her sister's deaths.  A woman who has attempted to befriend her is able to help by giving her a lift to the airport, and in the end, it only takes one person to listen, believe and care. 
There is an exhilerating sense that one woman, alone, can fight for her rights and her life.  Even when all the cards are stacked against her.  We have ingenuity and strength, and can figure out how to fight the bully.
Yes, I am making an analogy here.  Never give up.  Sometimes one person's action can turn the tide:  Rosa Parks, Ghandhi, Gloria Steinem, Mahalia.  Pick one action and model what you want the citizenry to do.  Speak about it to all you meet.  There is truth, and speaking it makes us not be victims.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I received photos of our granddaughter riding a pony,  and she looked elegant and confident.  Her mother rode as well, and we have many memories of events and competitions and horses and grooming and ribbons and excitement.  Our daughter told us this time last year that she had stage four cancer, her breast cancer returning after only four years.  This time it was in her brain as well.  Flash forward to this year, when her treatment is going well, she looks and feels good, and her future extended comfortably.  There are so many new drugs and treatments, her her first option has worked wonderfully.  She's tenacious, and she also loves her life and friends and family.  Lots of people are fighting for her, praying for her, willing her body to remain strong and fight this challenge.  Our daughter is fighter and so is our granddaughter.  Last year I was devastated, but now I know there is hope and doctors and researchers pushing for better tools to use to keep people alive and with their loved ones.  We ride the horse, the horse doesn't ride us.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday we attended a performance of Puccini's opera "Tosca" and watched while the bad guy, who looked like Brett Kavanaugh, I kid you not, tried to force Tosca to succumb to him in exchange for the life of her lover.  She got a little too upset, and stabbed him to death instead, which was gratifying, except, his promise to free her lover was a lie, and after she saw her beloved shot, she jumped from the precipice and died.  A great reminder that people are pretty much at the mercy of powerful men, even 150 years later.  Oh, well, the voices were terrific, as were the sets, and maybe Tosca had seen the movie "Thelma and Louise".  Now leaping off the tall building is not my idea of liberation, but I can see getting so frustrated it seems a good idea at the time.  Maybe Kavanaugh will see "Tosca" with RBG and have an epiphany.  Anything is possible. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We watched "Little Shop of Horrors" last night, it's funny until Seymour chops up the dentist, then not so funny.  He didn't kill him, but now he is complicit.  And the song about skid row, the filthy alley, it all seems tasteless.  We selected the wrong musical to try to cheer us up, after Kavanaugh being sworn in.  My daughter was trying to potty train her son and I went over there to give her some moral support, but she got upset, our grandson got upset, and she was in tears feeling she'd handled it all wrong.  But everyone feels that way, and frankly, the book she read sounds like nonsense to me.  I'm glad in my day they didn't have this avalanche of advice books to get mired in.  Take it slow, give it time, wait until he's ready:  no one wants to hear it, or our suggestions.  After all, haven't things advanced and improved?  Well.  Not so much.  The idea of progress is a badly written musical.

Returning home and seeing the rest of the movie, I realized, though, that some things are pretty simple still.  If you vote for a misogynist, you don't respect any women:  not your mother, your wife, your daughter, your sister.  You've crossed the line.  You are complicit.  You want your party to support you, you want to win, more than you want to stand up for what is right.  You're all about you.  And Seymour, though he gets the girl and the house in the suburbs, has devalued life and is on the other side from decency and respect for life.  No amount of singing will shine up his tarnished soul.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Early this morning I had a nightmare.  It was the time of the Revolutionary War in Boston, and a family was trying to stay alive.  First the father died, and the mother and five children put on lots of clothes before they went outside, in the ice and snow, and I was afraid they were going to die.  They had nowhere to go, and I had a sense of doom, that I was going to see them die one after the other.  I woke myself up, and realized the dread was the vote today that allowed Kavanaugh to become a member of the Court, and the doom it spells for women and children.  This is the era of bullies, and they seem to win every time.  Frankly, in my day, bullies also got away with most actions, and the rest of us learned to stay out of their way.  I remember a girl, when I was eight, bullying me and then gloating.  I never spoke up against her, though I was furious with her actions.  I was afraid of being ostrasized.  Another bully pushed me off the high slide in the school playground to the side, and my knees and hands were so bloody my parents had to pick me up and take me home.  There were no consequences for the boy who deliberately shoved me off at the top. 
Now our government is allowing bullying and forcing silence upon those who are victims.  This is not what the Constitution was written to do.  We are protecting the rich and powerful and encouraging their immoral deeds.  I'm devastated.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The Kavanaugh fiasco, the A's losing last night, a darkly cloudy morning without rain:  all are dampening my mood.  Even the trip to the botanical gardens yesterday derailed, because when we arrived, there were no more parking spaces, and after searching everywhere, we headed elsewhere.  I took my friend to a city garden that most people don't know about and neither did she.  It was designed in the 1930s and has delightful rose beds, a lovely pond, a waterfall, benches, overhanging trees, and as it's set in a bowl, stairs leading up to woodsy areas all around.  There were volunteers pruning and a air of quiet sanctuary.  There is a walk with "mother of the year" names from the 1940s on.  Who knew there was a mother of the year award here?  After, we went in an ACE hardware garden shop, where my friend fell in love with a very strange looking, wonderful tree, and she bought small plants and then returned by herself after our outing to buy the tree.  I returned with two more cans of teak oil, and proceeded to coat the patio furniture a second time in preparation for more rain in our future.  A little sadness lingers for my team, a lot of sadness for the now predicted approval of Kavanaugh, and sense of not only having lost the outing to the botanical garden, but something infinitely more important:  my faith in my government's processes.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

In a few minutes I'm going with a friend to the botanical gardens, and, after the rain, it should be especially pleasant to wander among the plants and trees.  The garden is large enough that we cannot see every part, but whatever we do see will be healing.  I like touching plants and grounding myself with them.  This morning I carefully plucked fallen leaves from a huge succulent, tenderly admiring it's hues of blue/gray/pink/purple.  I check for dead flowers on the geraniums, and pick up all the dead camelia blossoms from the ground.  There is a blanket of gold leaves from the birches next door that fall on our patio, and some of our leaves falling too.  The seasons are somewhat confused here, but I like the mixing up of fall and summer and even a hint of spring.  Our persimmon tree's fruit is turning orange as a sunset, though the fruit is overhanging our neighbor's yard instead of our own.  It's always a race between the squirrels, birds and us as to who eats it.  In these days of shorter light and cooler nights, the change is refreshes, and causes unconscious responses in our bodies and minds.  Change is a way of waking us up.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It rained last night!  I woke up this morning and told my husband we should rush downstairs and watch it coming down.  Later we walked the neighborhood loving the wetness and smell.  Our plants and trees look better already.  This is our highest fire risk month, and sometimes we don't get any rain until Halloween, so I'm grateful we've had our thirst quenched a bit.  There is no more rain forecast in the near future, but maybe that will change.  I know parts of the country are flooded, but the west is parched.  The animals can drink from this rain, and new growth will spurt. 
And maybe I can take full or partial credit, because yesterday I insisted we rub our patio furniture with teak oil, and we ran out and couldn't do the second coat, as it said to do, before last night.  So the furniture got drenched last night, and I will have to wait until it's dry again, sweep away the leaves and debris, before second and maybe third coat can be applied.  If I hadn't been in the process of protecting my furniture from rain, well, think about it, would it have even rained?!  I doubt it.  Not that I'm superstitious, but I'm already figuring out how to keep any bad karma out of the A's playoff game with the Yankees on Wednesday.  Better not to watch or listen, in case I affect the game.  Go A's!!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I went to tea at a friend's house.  She had a serious illness several years ago and was hospitalized for months, and she decided to thank the people who visited, brought meals and generally supported her by having this party.  At each place was a hand written note of gratitude for the guest.  I think we were all very touched by her thoughtfulness and generosity, and I certainly left with warm feelings.  I brought her flowers because I realized I was so grateful she lived.  She had only a 50% chance of surviving, but she did.  Her recouperation has been long and arduous, and she's been mostly cheerful and upbeat about a time she can't even remember.  I was especially inspired by the devotion of her friends and family.  They were there every step of the way, talking to her when she was in a coma and encouraging her.  It was a blessing to be a part of that process and a witness. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We went to the zoo yesterday with our two little grandsons and their parents and our younger son and his wife.  The day was sunny and the animals seemed primed to be active and entertain.  The lions roared, the elephants played, the bears wrestled in their pool, and only the hynenas slept through the crowds.  My husband said today it was so wonderful to be among such a diverse group of people, of all colors and languages.  I love that all these families were out with their children, educating them about the various species on our planet.  There was a chimpanzee who sat on a rock near the cage edging, and contemplated all of us.  His look was intelligent and curious.  A mountain lion was similarly positioned right next to the public, but his look was curious about something beyond us, something that resembled prey, I bet.  We, of course,  had to ride the train, waiting almost an hour to get on, and the little fellows soaked up the engine whistle and the tunnel and the waving to people as we chugged by.  They were so exhausted that we had to call it a day and leave, and I'm sure both boys, in their cars, dreamed of bison and condors and giraffes.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I watched the first of the Cate Blanchett movies about Elizabeth I.  We hadn't seen them in ages, and after watching Flora Dobson's masterful performance in the Errol Flynn film "SeaHawk", we wanted to see more.  On Sunday we watched the opera Roberto Devereaux, so we're on an Elizabeth I bender.  The firm holds up marvelously, and the emphasis on symbol and the visual rings valid.  Again, we see the bloody times, when people were beheaded routinely, and Elizabeth's life was at constant risk, because she carried the blood of Henry VIII.  The brilliance is especially dazzling in the scene where her advisor more or less tells her that if she takes away the Virgin Mary and other symbols of the Catholic church, then the people will be bereft unless she herself takes on that powerful role.  From the beginning of history, in pagan times, there was the Virgin who was worshipped, and it's so deep in our DNA that it's an unconscious craving in most people.  When Elizabeth cuts her hair, applies chalky cream to her skin, and adorns herself with pure white pearls, she becomes the older icon.  She had a long, successful reign because she became a deity.  We are often ruled by symbols, especially if we don't recognize them consciously.  I guess we have a hunger for authority in the non-rational part of our minds.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is supposed to be warmer than usual.  I'm a nervous wreck because I'm taking a letter to my bank protesting it's support of private facilities that keep families apart, a la the recent separation of migrant families.  I'm most worried about taking a photo of myself in front of the bank.  I'm not so good with the selfies, in fact, I never take them because the result is so hideous.  I can barely stand to see myself when I do Facetime with the grandkids.  I look so, how shall I say it?  Elderly.  Oh, dear.  Vanity never quits.  So I'm off to be a baby protester in my own way, part of a group of women doing what they can to change and make these enormous entities accountable.  Give them some moral backbone!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just finished reading an article in the New Republic by Rebecca Solnit.  It describes three new books about women's anger, and how the root is often compassion for victims.  We don't want to see women scorned and ridiculed for speaking their truth.  We become upset at the treatment because we've experienced it first hand.  She mentions Shirley Chisholm and how she appeared stoic in public but cried in private for the treatment she received as a presidential candidate.  She was a hero of mine and I voted for her way back when.  She had a fire about her, and if that was anger, it was righteous anger, seeing the corruption of our system of government and the the unfairness to our citizens.  But women are not supposed to express anger, and when we do, we are often punished for it verbally and physically.  Men claim ownership of anger, and it is a very effective weapon.  But it is often a weapon of the patriarchy, suppressing women's voices.  Anger for ourselves has no wholesome component, but anger for others may lead to action that is an act of compassion.  I think that is happening now with women.  We are finally protecting our gender, in a way we felt we could not protect ourselves.  We are speaking up for our daughters and granddaughters.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We saw Donzinetti's "Roberto Devereaux" yesterday, in a great production.  The whole ball of wax is Queen Elizabeth I and the soprano Rabinvesky tears apart the scenery.  Her voice is sublime, and the story so powerful that we've seen multiple versions on screen and television, and are about to see yet another film about her and Mary, Queen of Scots.  But this show focuses on the terror of having your father behead your mother when you are three years old, and seeing many fall in the grab for power.  Her fear is palpable, that if she gives over any control, to a husband perhaps, her own head may be next.  She wants to love and trust, but cannot.  She wants to live most of all, but it comes with a high cost, and at the end of this opera, she finds it too great to bear.  What a bloody world the monarchy in England was.  And even today, to be trapped inside it resembles a prison, with glass walls that expose you to the stings and barbs of the world.  I thought of Princess Diana, not allowed to love, but treated as a brood mare, and relentlessly attacked from all sides.  I even thought of Meghan Markle, now trapped in a snare that perhaps her princely husband cannot protect her from.  Who would wish it?  Not me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we go to the opera.  I'm excited for this one, which I've never seen, and the rave reviews for the soprano.  But no matter how good the production is, there is one thing that will bother me:  the inconsiderate behavior of the audience at the end of the opera.  The attendies rise not to applaud, but to leave.  They block our view of the stage as the singers come out for their bows, and rush en masse to get to their cars or parking spaces or buses or whatever.  They spoil the joy of acknowledging the hard work and splendid results of the opera.  Their needs override politeness or consideration of others, and evidently appreciation is not for them to show, as they "need" to get home or to a bar or restaurant or whatever.  That they disturb the rest of the audience is not their concern.  Our selfish culture is evident everywhere.  The "Me first" attitude is foremost.  Applauding is evidently for suckers.  What's important is getting the EDGE.  Getting ahead of other drivers or walkers.  Miss Manners would be appalled.  I am.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today my husband and I went with our younger daughter and grandson to a harvest festival, tasting apples, pears and grapes, picking out pumpkins in a patch, watching our grandson in the petting area with chickens, a pig, two ducks, bunnies, and two goats.  We had lunch outside and listened to blue grass music, and then wandered over to another area where a woman was teaching two step dancing, and my grandson and I walked up on stage and joined the dance a dozen other couples.  Heel, kick, one two three back, same again, then shuffle forward one two three eight times.  He held my hand and kept up with me, never once turning away.  Clearly he was delighted, and even though he hadn't really been able to do the steps, he remembered the order, and in the car on the way home he kept saying heel, kick, back.  He was so delighted to have danced, and at twenty two months, he was amazing.  What a memory I will have of this day, his bravery, and his passion for music and dancing.  He's a regular Gene Kelly!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I bought some material and baskets last week, thinking I'd make a "pet bed" for each of my little grandsons' sleep buddies.  One has a Jellycat kitty and the other a Snoopy.  I'll make a pad in the basket and a pillow for the beloved stuffies.  And I bought some train material, perhaps for pillows, and a big swath of fleecy fabric for a blanket for the one like I've already made for the other.  Then there is the Clifford the Dog material, cat material and flannel construction trucks fabric.  I couldn't resist, and they are both young enough to enjoy the things I make.  And the act of making them, well, that is a Zen experience of sewing with love in my heart and mindfulness in every stitch.  Not as taxing as the Rakasu I made for my vows, but coming out of the same intention to pay attention and be careful.  Cuddles for my cuties!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

There is a mystery/sci fy bookstore really close to my house, and last year it was going out of business, as the owner couldn't make the rent.  He announced everything was 20% off, and when all the books were gone, that was it.  I dutifully came in a few times and bought many children's books and mysteries and gift books and whatever else I fancied, then saw the stock dwindle until there wasn't much I wanted, as I don't read sci fy or fantasy or horror.  I was sad, as every time I walked by, which was every day, there was the sad looking store, and I forced myself to look for mysteries at my other local bookstores in preparation for my favorite bookstore's demise.  I am determined to keep all my local bookstores alive, whatever it takes.  So months had gone by without me entering the store, when my friend told me that neighbors had come to the owner's rescue and the bookstore was resurrected!  Hallalujah!  Yesterday I went in, not daring to hope his inventory was up and current, but it was!  He has the new hardbacks.  He has older books of writers I've been searching for.  He has three inflatable dragons whose wings float up and down.  He has the Star Wars figures and Halloween ravens and ghosts and ghouls.  I bought an armload of books and marched home triumphant.  In these dark days, I need a little distraction. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Do we have to endure another hearing where the woman tells one story, the man denies it, he is championed, and she torn apart?  I don't know if I can bear it.  Has anything changed since Anita Hill?  I think we know the answer to that with the women speaking up around the Me, too movement.  She bears the trauma, she bears the shame, she hides her shame, and when she finally feels that her pain must be subsumed for the sake of the country, she is attacked, her word worth less than nothing.  Why don't women come forward and name their assailants?  Because they fear, no, they KNOW they won't be protected or believed.  They will be terrorized.  It's a system that has worked for the patriarchy for a long time, and it is invisible, at this point.  It's in the air we breathe.  Everything is UNDERSTOOD.  How can women heal without support and and validation?  Often their families don't believe them.  They don't believe themselves.  The incident seems incredible, like a bad film, and all around them voices are denying the truth of their experience.  I pray Ford has the strength and support she needs to go through this ring of fire.  And for all of us reliving our own experiences that shamed and terrified us, may be be strong and have support as well.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Does it matter if a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States is a misogynist?  We shall see.  It did not matter with Clarence Thomas, though half the population is female, because half the power is not female.  It may not matter now.  Just break our hearts yet again.  Set an example for our daughters and granddaughters where they are warned that they have no truth and will never be believed over the voice of a man.  Let us be traumatized and re traumatized.  At barely eighteen, as a freshman at college, I went to a male Coop party.  A man shoved me in a room, pulled me onto the bed, and luckily, though I was five feet tall and 105 pounds, I fought him off, and grabbed the door and fled the room.  In the next room was the party with dozens of people, but no one came to my aid, and I left quickly and ran all the way back to my dorm.  I now think this room was for the purpose of "getting lucky".  This guy probably began again with another naive girl, and maybe she wasn't so lucky as I was.  I've never forgotten this incident, now over fifty years ago.  I never went to another party on campus.  I never drank more than one beer.  I was now defensive, on the lookout, and my carefree spirit changed.  I blamed myself for years, and why?  Because I wanted to meet people?  To have fun?  I'd never encountered a party in high school where I was in any danger.  I thought the world was good and I could take care of myself.  For decades now I've known better.  There is no safe for women.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went with a friend yesterday to a one day prayer meeting for climate change.  We began with Native People and a drum circle and singing and prayers to the four directions.  It was powerful, standing in a meadow praying for the earth to heal and us to take action to help that happen.  There was music at points throughout the day, and an amazing array of speakers:  James Baraz, Anam Thubten Rimpoche, Jack Kornfield, Joanna Macy, Julia Butterfly Hill and people from the Paris Agreement and One Earth Sangha.  Their words were inspiring and touching.  Julia Butterfly Hill's speech was spoken from the heart and so encouraging.  I believe we all went home determined to do at least one small action to protect our planet.  I felt strongly I wanted to speak for trees.  I have a daughter-in-law who works in this area, and I have been reading about trees for the last few years, but if I had to pin-point one spiritual support I've had from childhood it has to be being on the edge of woods and feeling free to walk alone into the trees, lie down on the earth and look up at the sky and sun past the canopy of trees.  Seeing the destruction of the trees in the western U.S. recently has agonized me, and I hope to write more about it and take some protective actions.  I have gratitude for the trees, and I want to repay my debt.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I cleaned out my file cabinets.  Gone are the materials and bluebooks from college teaching.  Gone are writings of members of ancient writing groups.  Gone are a hundred newspaper articles about Native American issues.  Gone are our departed dogs' vet bills.  Gone are my transcripts from college and graduate school.  I don't even want to look at this stuff and I feel certain my kids won't either.  I need to toss copies of novels I've written and short stories and just make sure I have one of each left.  Maybe next time I'll get rid of old art docent materials.  I could dump handwritten notes from classes I took a lifetime ago.  But yesterday my husband gallantly carried down four huge trash bags to recycle, so they'll have to be another purge later, when there is room.

How did it feel?  I was relieved, and strangely unattached to my younger self with her careful records and multiple copies of articles, tests and other now useless stuff.  I felt glad to see I'd saved some long ago writings, and a bit tender toward them.  I discovered ink cartridges and other computer paraphernalia that might have been helpful a decade ago, but I have a new printer.  I found a couple of treasures as well.  A protest letter to other faculty about hiring four new white professors despite my and others' plea for more diversity.  My design class notebook, which my friend taught and I remember with fondness.  The magazine that shows the redo of my studio, looking better than real life.  A kind of haphazard history of my life, in other words.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a wonderful coffee and talk with a friend this morning.  She lost her wife almost a year ago now, and she's moving on in her life, supported by her friends and big family.  She's my neighbor as well, so we comfort each other on a regular basis.  Her heart is so true, I feel open and expanded when I'm with her.  I'm taking our grandson to visit her in a couple of days, as she has plenty of toys and a grandmother's heart.  We talked about the Richard Scarry books that little boys love, and how to raise loving, empathic boys.  Her eight year old grandson is coming for a visit soon, and I described the zoo and the new exhibits that we just saw last week.  And we talked about her wife, whom I sorely miss and she grieves for.  As happens, she now seems more present again, after a year of feeling only loss.  Everything changes.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We walked around the reservoir this morning, and despite my knee, my husband's back and the heat, we did it with minimal panting.  There are plenty of other people our age making the round of two and a half miles as well, and we greet each other.  The women with strollers ignore us and the people with dogs.  We are invisible to them.  That's okay.  I'm sure I was the same, although I did volunteer for an agency for a couple of years that paired me with an elderly woman who lived in a trailer.  She was a Jehovah's Witness, and sharp and judgmental at times.  I could see why her two daughters lived at opposite ends of the state.  I took her shopping, and out to eat sometimes and just visited with her.  She came to our house one Thanksgiving.  I'm a writer, so I liked her stories and even her irascible character.  Why should she be sweet like Cinderella's fairy godmother?  I liked older people because I adored my grandparents and by then they were long gone.  I love history as well, so listening to any narrative suits me.  Evidently, listen to elders is mostly out of vogue, but it prevents me from boring innocent bystanders!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Saturday night our friends took us to a Linda Tillery show, and it was a real treat.  All the music was blues, and there were some gems.  She turned 70, with a big cake and candles.  I love it when people state their age loud and proud, instead of hiding it.  I want the encouragement.  Linda has been mentoring a young local guy who was 17 when she discovered him and now is the ripe old age of 20, and he's come a long way from the last time I saw him on stage with her.  He's got that gift, a kind of miracle, and he is already writing some songs with her.  His guitar playing is mind boggling.  But I especially like seeing the old mentoring the young and the clear benefit it gives to both.  I wish more young people could see that the old might have something to impart that they could use and grow with.  You don't see that transfer of experience and wisdom much any more.  It was the real cause to celebrate that night.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was out yesterday with my foster granddaughter, now 13, and we had fun shopping, having lunch and seeing the documentary "Pick of the Litter".  I asked her, at some point, about whether her little sister was going to the same elementary school, which she is, and if she'd had a teacher my granddaughter had for kindergarten, whom I hadn't liked much.  My granddaughter replied that the teacher wasn't bad, but she had been horrible at that age.  I was surprised, as actually my granddaughter had been coping with her father dying when she was a baby, a move of house, a new boyfriend for her mother, struggle with reading due to a health issue, and just generally a lot of change at once.  She thinks of herself as a brat, but I felt the teacher was bribing kids with candy kept in her desk, and she had no sympathy for psychology.  The minute my granddaughter was out of that class, she began reading and her next teacher built her confidence and my granddaughter just blossomed.  So she's hard on her younger self, very hard.  I tried to talk to her about it, but she got that:  you are my grandmother and you dote on me so you don't know look.  Well, she is confident on the outside now, beautiful and smart with good grades.  I just got a tiny glimpse of what's on the inside.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday was my birthday and we took our younger grandson to the zoo and saw bears and bison and condors and a jaguar, among other animals.  We had a high old time and evidently exhausted the little guy, as I had to wake him up after him sleeping three hours for his nap.  Then we went out with him and his parents to a kid friendly pub and had early dinner.  The night before our younger son and his wife took us out for dinner and our friends joined us, and they are taking us to a concert tonight, so there is plenty of celebration.  No complaints whatsoever.  I'm so grateful to be alive and kicking, though no high kicks anymore, and happy to have a healthy family and dear friends who make sure I'm not ignored on my birthday.  I've been receiving cards all week and gifts and phone calls.  And I have to thank my parents for showing me how to make and keep friends and that all the energy you put into friendships comes back tenfold.  I saw how much fun they had and how rewarding long relationships can be.  And then there is the fact that they are the reason I'm here on this earth!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm reading Rebecca Solnit's "Call Them By Their True Names" and her essays are so timely and searing.  I can't recommend it enough.  In a short essay she tackles the misogeny during the 2016 election tells it like it is, and reminds us how far we still need to go to have women treated fairly.  I admire her writing more than anyone other than Roxanne Gay and Ta-Nehisi Coates.  She clarifies my thinking and has the scope and breath of vision that keeps me sane.  Her essay "Preaching to the Choir"  gives hope that we can indeed change what is happening in politics if we use our community of the like minded to make certain every person who wants rule of law, equality and fairness gets out and votes.  We don't need to persuade those who think differently.  There are enough of us to take the country in a better direction.  We just need to raise our voices and protect their voting rights.  She is the voice of action and hope in a chaotic time.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went to the little upholstery shop down the street, where this delightful Dutch couple have reupholstered our sunroom wicker, a chair in the living room, and other pieces.  Now I want new cushions on our furniture in our tiny TV room, because when you sit down, there IS no cushioning, just straight to the hard frame.  Why get rid of the furniture, when a new outfit will spruce it up, especially with extra thick foam?  I looked at fabric, wanting indoor/outdoor material to stand up to our snacking and a possible new dog, and found some fun designs.  Bright stripes and luscious colors.  They sent me home with one fabric book, and my husband and I had fun looking through the choices.  Snip/snap, we could have a whole new look and not feel our hipbones so glaringly either.  A small pleasure, but something to look forward to.  It made an overcast day almost sunny!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a wonderful day looking at and riding trains yesterday with our oldest and youngest and our two youngest grandchildren.  Everything was magic for them and therefore us.  We rode a steam train and saw big locomotives and went inside train cars like the dining car and the sleeping car and the mail car.  The little boys held hands at one point and it was so sweet.  I sent them home one with a birthday Thomas engine and car and the other with a Richard Scarry book that had a little engine and track you could push it on.  I think their dads and grandpa had almost as much fun, and my daughter, daughter-in-law and I enjoyed their enjoyment.  Though the history of it got to all of us.  I have fond memories of riding trains to visit relatives in the midwest and going with my best friend from Virginia to Fayetteville, North Carolina to stay with her grandmother and aunt.  It was a big adventure, and we dressed up and felt elegant and grown up.  I didn't ride in an airplane until I was in my early twenties.  And I've ridden trains all over Europe and India.  So I guess you'd have to say I'm a fan.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I listened to my Buddhist teacher talk about how circumstances and ordinary interactions can be your teachers, as well as people with whom you feel in conflict.  I love it when, as happened the other day, I meet someone and it becomes a teaching moment.  I met the young woman at the eye doctor's, and we talked deeply about her survival of breast cancer twice, and my experience of eye injections.  Sometimes a challenge like taking my driver's test becomes a learning moment.  I finally realized the DMV tester was hostile to me and I went elsewhere.  But most challenging of all is when you feel an aversion to someone or something and you turn not away from it but towards it.  Often you learn that the thing that irritates you about the other person is something you recognize in yourself.  If I can face it, I can change that thing in myself by being conscious of it and careful in my speech or action.  No, you can't change the other person, but you begin to feel compassion for him/her.  As they say, you know where they are coming from.  People who appear aloof turn out to be shy with new people, or talkers just plain old nervous.  Judging precipitously is unwise, and remaining open as long as I am able helps me learn about myself and others more accurately.  It's worth the effort.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We took a walk around the reservoir this morning.  Every time I go there are fewer birds, the hills are dryer and we saw a lone deer down by the highway, no doubt searching for some greenery to eat.  Even the turkeys, and there are at least two dozen of them, were not under the trees but probably high up in the denser, darker forest.  Drought season, and even the water in the reservoir doesn't mitigate the feeling of the thirstiness of nature.  This is the time of year when it's hottest here - Indian Summer - and there may be two months or more before any rain falls.  Everyone's jumpy, and the air is still not clear from the earlier fires around the state, so we have every reason to be.  We bought succulents at the nursery after our walk, and it's hard to purchase plants that need water, because we struggle enough with the azaleas, camelias and hydrangeas.  Only the geraniums keep us in color right now, and the few roses we have.  This is our present moment and our future.  Rain, not so much.