Hi everyone!
I know I've been gone a while but I'm back and will try to blog more faithfully. The reason I was inspired to write today is that this morning I saw the first signs of the changing seasons. A few leaves at the bottom of the Burning Bushes along the driveway are turning red. Then on the way to the city I noticed a couple of maple trees with just a few yellow leaves on the edges of a branch or two. It's still hot and still officially summer but fall is easing its way into our world and our consciousness. I hate to see summer end. I love the hot nights and the sounds of locusts and frogs--it always transports me to my grandparents' backyard in the late 1950s. My grandmother loved petunias and irises and grew them in abundance in her small yard. She also tried, every year, to grow horseradish which my grandfather predictably mowed down--maybe he was being passive-aggressive. I'll never know. This year we had the beginnings of a great garden. I realized if I helped, maybe something would get done. We spent a wonderful Mother's Day weekend weeding and hauling dirt and compost and planting. Two full days of intensive labor--I was totally worn out but felt as happy as I could remember. The hard work paid off in tomatoes, asparagus, peppers (sweet and hot), a single Hansel eggplant and a wild tangle of herbs. We recently planted cabbage and spinach for the fall, with more cold-season crops to come. We're clearing the pathways through our woods and I'm certain by making it easier to get down there, I'll be inspired to write more in the coming days and months.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, September 27, 2009
40 Years & Counting
Forty years ago I graduated from high school and recently I attended the reunion to commemorate that shocking anniversary. Actually I had been looking forward to it and I think that's because I felt I still looked okay--no bags under my eyes, no wrinkles (thanks Mom), some excess poundage but nothing too jiggly. Also I have an interesting job. And I got a lot of mileage out of Jerry's job as the Missouri Film Czar--I mean, how many classmates can say they're in a movie with George Clooney? How interesting to see some of the women much thinner now than we were in high school. They looked like lollipops with stick bodies and big round heads. A few were so botoxed they truly had difficulty moving their lips. But for the most part, the women looked a lot better than the men. And the ones I didn't like in high school, I still didn't like. Some ladies I wasn't friendly with gave me big hugs and kisses. Others I had been looking forward to seeing obviously did not feel that way about me. My old boyfriend Rodger later told me there was one person he wanted nothing to do with--and of course that person ended up at our table. Eileen, my classmate, friend and hostess, said there was one person she didn't want to talk to--who of course sat right next to her. It was amazing to see so many high-school couples still married, to each other. Above all, what was evident was the passage of time and what 40 years can do to people. Most of us are past our prime yet doing our best to make the most of the years we have left. Although I enjoyed the experience, I can honestly say I have attended my last reunion.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Poop Money & Other Dog Tales
When Hans (husband #1) and I first got married we didn't have a lot of money. One day I saw in the local newspaper an ad for dog sitters. Since we had a little dachshund, Joopie, and certainly had room for more pooches, I called the number and talked to Jackie of Pets Are Inn. Jackie, whom we eventually called Wacky Jackie for her somewhat eccentric behavior, drove a Pets Are Inn van around Kirkwood picking up and delivering dogs for clients.
Although we took care of a variety of dogs, our main customers were a sweet little bichon whose name I can't remember, and a big hairy dog named Zia whose breed I can't remember. Joopie seemed to enjoy the occasional company. I think we were paid about $10 a day. Occasionally when a visitor "had an accident" we'd tell Jackie and get a little extra money. "Poop Money" was what we called it and when we got it we'd usually splurge on Chinese carry-out.
One day Wacky Jackie called and asked if we'd be interested in watching the dog of a very special client. I said, Maybe. Who is it? It was Leonard Slatkin, the conductor of the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra, and his wife, Jackie said. I said, Sure, why not. Jackie said, Well, they want to come meet you and Hans first. I said, What? You told them we're great, shouldn't that be enough? Jackie said, They said they want to meet you and see the house and neighborhood. That was it for me. I told Jackie, Forget it. Nobody is going to judge me to see if I'm good enough to take care of their dog. I don't care who it is. Then Jackie said, I'm so glad you said that, Pam. She thought it was outrageous, too. But she didn't want to deny us the chance to make a little extra money if we really needed it. Which we didn't. Thank goodness.
Although we took care of a variety of dogs, our main customers were a sweet little bichon whose name I can't remember, and a big hairy dog named Zia whose breed I can't remember. Joopie seemed to enjoy the occasional company. I think we were paid about $10 a day. Occasionally when a visitor "had an accident" we'd tell Jackie and get a little extra money. "Poop Money" was what we called it and when we got it we'd usually splurge on Chinese carry-out.
One day Wacky Jackie called and asked if we'd be interested in watching the dog of a very special client. I said, Maybe. Who is it? It was Leonard Slatkin, the conductor of the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra, and his wife, Jackie said. I said, Sure, why not. Jackie said, Well, they want to come meet you and Hans first. I said, What? You told them we're great, shouldn't that be enough? Jackie said, They said they want to meet you and see the house and neighborhood. That was it for me. I told Jackie, Forget it. Nobody is going to judge me to see if I'm good enough to take care of their dog. I don't care who it is. Then Jackie said, I'm so glad you said that, Pam. She thought it was outrageous, too. But she didn't want to deny us the chance to make a little extra money if we really needed it. Which we didn't. Thank goodness.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
More Bird Trouble
The bird troubles continue at Casa Jones. Now a pair of hawks have moved in and decided to establish a household. I noticed them a few weeks ago. Whenever we'd go outside, we'd hear their crazy screaming. One day as I turned the corner to the patio, they flew off the fence around the propane tank. I thought they were owls--screech owls, of course. A few days later Jerry saw them on the old fencepost in the back yard and realized they were hawks. Usually I see two of them but Jerry has seen three at a time. They hang out in the woods near the house, or on the other side of the lawn in the cedar stand.
Last week as I came down the driveway I saw them sitting at the end of the stone wall. One flew into the trees, the other jumped down to the ground and seemed to be acting as if it were injured. No, it was trying to drag a dead rabbit away! Instead it flew off, too. I felt bad having disrupted their dinner. I know they worked hard for that bunny. Happily Abigail is big enough to not interest them. However, our visiting dachshund Daisy is a tempting little rotundo who may appear to be a tasty treat to the hawks. We'll have to pay close attention next time she comes over.
Living in the wild nature is a great adventure. But I'm just about ready for the hawks to move along.
Last week as I came down the driveway I saw them sitting at the end of the stone wall. One flew into the trees, the other jumped down to the ground and seemed to be acting as if it were injured. No, it was trying to drag a dead rabbit away! Instead it flew off, too. I felt bad having disrupted their dinner. I know they worked hard for that bunny. Happily Abigail is big enough to not interest them. However, our visiting dachshund Daisy is a tempting little rotundo who may appear to be a tasty treat to the hawks. We'll have to pay close attention next time she comes over.
Living in the wild nature is a great adventure. But I'm just about ready for the hawks to move along.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Guadalupe
Our Lady of Guadalupe - Olvera Street, Los Angeles, California
Although I'm Jewish, I'm very fond of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I love the image of her with the full-body halo (depicting the sun), the flowing robes, the folded hands, standing on a crescent moon. The story and imagery are bound up with classical Aztec legends and symbolism--don't most religions have some pagan connections?
The photos were taken on Olvera Street in Los Angeles, one of my favorite places on the planet. It's the oldest street in L.A., a real tourist destination full of shops that mostly sell the same merchandise. So it's a good idea to not buy the first things you see--they'll be cheaper down the street. I bought a t-shirt there with one of Frida Kahlo's bloodier paintings reproduced on it ("The Two Fridas"), as well as a papel picado paper chain that I wish I could find, and other fantastic tchotchkas.
The pictures at the left and center were taken in April and November 2008; they're the same shrine built in a grated window, but the center photo puts it more in context. I call it "Guadalupe and Friends." The photo on the right is from a gorgeous, endless display of Guadalupe statues of varying heights, from about 3 inches up to two feet and more. It's amazing how inexpensive they are. I have a 4" one that cost about $1.50; she's standing on a Corinthian column--perfectly lovely. I'm planning to display 8" x 10"s of these photos in golden frames in my hallway.
I also have a Guadalupe fountain that's a little on the tacky side--okay, it's totally kitsch. I've owned it for about three years but I'm still kind of nervous about it. My Guadalupe wristwatch with diamond chips stopped working recently but I wear it anyway. It's not about time; I can get that off my cellphone.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
An Audience of One
From today's New York Times:
Richard Jalichandra, chief executive of Technorati, said that at any given time there are 7 million to 10 million active blogs on the Internet, but “it’s probably between 50,000 and 100,000 blogs that are generating most of the page views.” He added, “There’s a joke within the blogging community that most blogs have an audience of one.”
The article interviews a few people who started blogs, hoping to get noticed, attract advertisers, land a book deal, star in a movie--but then gave it up due to their dreams not coming true, or because they have moved on to Facebook or Twitter or other pursuits.
But 7-10 million active blogs--that's still a lot of bloggers, mostly with a very limited audience. I can only speak for myself, but I think the number of readers has little to do with it, although the more the merrier. For me, my little blog is a way to practice a certain kind of writing...to clarify and organize my thoughts...to vent about the stupidity around me...to reminisce and to look ahead.
One of these days I'll build up the courage to actually announce my blog to the world. Until then, it's just you and me.
Richard Jalichandra, chief executive of Technorati, said that at any given time there are 7 million to 10 million active blogs on the Internet, but “it’s probably between 50,000 and 100,000 blogs that are generating most of the page views.” He added, “There’s a joke within the blogging community that most blogs have an audience of one.”
The article interviews a few people who started blogs, hoping to get noticed, attract advertisers, land a book deal, star in a movie--but then gave it up due to their dreams not coming true, or because they have moved on to Facebook or Twitter or other pursuits.
But 7-10 million active blogs--that's still a lot of bloggers, mostly with a very limited audience. I can only speak for myself, but I think the number of readers has little to do with it, although the more the merrier. For me, my little blog is a way to practice a certain kind of writing...to clarify and organize my thoughts...to vent about the stupidity around me...to reminisce and to look ahead.
One of these days I'll build up the courage to actually announce my blog to the world. Until then, it's just you and me.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Some Things I Just Don't Give A ---- About
1) Sonia Sotomayor
2) Republican opinions about #1
3) Dick Cheney
4) Dick Cheney's children
5) George Bush
6) Laura Bush
7) Newt
8) Jon & Kate
9) "Octomom" (What a horrible image that conjures up)
10) Spelling Bees
11) Kids with poignant stories who participate in #9
12) "Slumdog Kids"
13) The destruction or salvation of the homes of #11
14) Jay Leno's farewell
15) Susan Boyle
to be continued...
2) Republican opinions about #1
3) Dick Cheney
4) Dick Cheney's children
5) George Bush
6) Laura Bush
7) Newt
8) Jon & Kate
9) "Octomom" (What a horrible image that conjures up)
10) Spelling Bees
11) Kids with poignant stories who participate in #9
12) "Slumdog Kids"
13) The destruction or salvation of the homes of #11
14) Jay Leno's farewell
15) Susan Boyle
to be continued...
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Bird Trouble
When I looked outside this morning I saw a cardinal, a blue jay and a woodpecker dining at my feeder, and a bluebird at the birdbath. But don't let this charming scene fool you. The truth is my family is having trouble with birds. It's not quite like "The Birds," more like "A Few Crazed Birds," but wierd enough.
It started a few weeks ago when my friend and ex-spouse Hans was driving over here--when all of a sudden, he says, a turkey vulture swooped down from the sky, put its claws around the rear-view mirror on the passenger side of his truck, yanked it completely off and flew away. It's a story you could easily doubt, but there's no disputing someone or something--like a deranged turkey vulture--removed the mirror.
Then a couple of days ago my son Max reported when he was walking from the house to his motorcycle, a hummingbird flew straight into his head, then flew away. Happily Max was already wearing his helmet; I hate to think of that long and pointy hummingbird beak anywhere near my son's head otherwise.
Now the last 24 hours a crazed female cardinal has been flinging herself into my bedroom window. The only time she stops is when the dogs or any of us are outdoors. She sits in the crepe myrtle in front of the window, chirps a little, then crashes into the window, while her handsome scarlet husband sings the familiar cardinal song on a nearby branch. Jerry first noticed this scenario yesterday morning and opened the blinds wide to see if there was a nest or baby birds on the ground, but no. There's no reason for this bird's strange behavior. I wonder if she would successfully crash through, how she would like ending up in my bedroom. Would she be delighted by the not-put-away-yet laundry on the chaise, every piece of my 7-piece red luggage stashed in the corner, the tall stack of Jerry's hobby magazines and the layer of dust on everything (after all, we do live on a gravel road)? I think she'd change her behavior instantly if only she knew what was on the other side of glass.
UPDATE 5/18: 48 hours later, the pitiful bird is still at it. Even when we scare her away, she reappears a while later. I'm very tempted to tape a picture of Dick Cheney to the window.
UPDATE 5/20: She's still at it, like clockwork at 5:30 a.m. each morning. I found a bright red Tickle Me Elmo and a scary Mickey Mouse stuffed toy and hung them by their stubby little arms in the windows. Take THAT, dumb bird!
UPDATE 5/21: Jerry decided to get serious about the situation and put big black plastic bags over the windows. Sure enough at 5:30 this morning, we heard the man cardinal's song and then the lady's chirpy call. I laid in bed all tense and waiting for the crashing to start...but it didn't. It seems the garbage bag strategy worked! Hopefully this deranged pair left. Just in case, we'll leave the plastic on the windows a little longer even though it looks pretty wierd.
UPDATE 6/8: Can you believe it? This insane bird is STILL crashing into the window--that is, the smaller middle window between the two large ones that Jerry covered with black garbage bags. Every morning at 5:30 a.m., there they are. First she makes a clicking type noise, he sings his Cardinal theme song, then CRASH. I really don't want to put a garbage bag on the only remaining window that lets the sun in. Isn't nesting season over soon? More for the sake of her tiny bird skull than for my peace of mind, I truly hope so.
It started a few weeks ago when my friend and ex-spouse Hans was driving over here--when all of a sudden, he says, a turkey vulture swooped down from the sky, put its claws around the rear-view mirror on the passenger side of his truck, yanked it completely off and flew away. It's a story you could easily doubt, but there's no disputing someone or something--like a deranged turkey vulture--removed the mirror.
Then a couple of days ago my son Max reported when he was walking from the house to his motorcycle, a hummingbird flew straight into his head, then flew away. Happily Max was already wearing his helmet; I hate to think of that long and pointy hummingbird beak anywhere near my son's head otherwise.
Now the last 24 hours a crazed female cardinal has been flinging herself into my bedroom window. The only time she stops is when the dogs or any of us are outdoors. She sits in the crepe myrtle in front of the window, chirps a little, then crashes into the window, while her handsome scarlet husband sings the familiar cardinal song on a nearby branch. Jerry first noticed this scenario yesterday morning and opened the blinds wide to see if there was a nest or baby birds on the ground, but no. There's no reason for this bird's strange behavior. I wonder if she would successfully crash through, how she would like ending up in my bedroom. Would she be delighted by the not-put-away-yet laundry on the chaise, every piece of my 7-piece red luggage stashed in the corner, the tall stack of Jerry's hobby magazines and the layer of dust on everything (after all, we do live on a gravel road)? I think she'd change her behavior instantly if only she knew what was on the other side of glass.
UPDATE 5/18: 48 hours later, the pitiful bird is still at it. Even when we scare her away, she reappears a while later. I'm very tempted to tape a picture of Dick Cheney to the window.
UPDATE 5/20: She's still at it, like clockwork at 5:30 a.m. each morning. I found a bright red Tickle Me Elmo and a scary Mickey Mouse stuffed toy and hung them by their stubby little arms in the windows. Take THAT, dumb bird!
UPDATE 5/21: Jerry decided to get serious about the situation and put big black plastic bags over the windows. Sure enough at 5:30 this morning, we heard the man cardinal's song and then the lady's chirpy call. I laid in bed all tense and waiting for the crashing to start...but it didn't. It seems the garbage bag strategy worked! Hopefully this deranged pair left. Just in case, we'll leave the plastic on the windows a little longer even though it looks pretty wierd.
UPDATE 6/8: Can you believe it? This insane bird is STILL crashing into the window--that is, the smaller middle window between the two large ones that Jerry covered with black garbage bags. Every morning at 5:30 a.m., there they are. First she makes a clicking type noise, he sings his Cardinal theme song, then CRASH. I really don't want to put a garbage bag on the only remaining window that lets the sun in. Isn't nesting season over soon? More for the sake of her tiny bird skull than for my peace of mind, I truly hope so.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Before, During, After
BEFORE...
DURING...
AFTER...Abigail the Old English Sheepdog is now ready for the hot Central Missouri summer. It always takes a few days to get used to this warm-weather version of her...like having two dogs in one. A lovely girl, fluffy or sheared. After a dramatic life living on two farms, with a man-dog she apparently didn't care for (no puppies), and being threatened with a bullet in the head (for allegedly killing a goat--not typical herder behavior), I'm grateful she landed here with us.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Wild Days
It's getting wild out here...as in wild things and wildflowers. I uncovered this little toad yesterday under a pile of leaves that had accumulated next to the front door all winter. He obliged me by jumping onto an oak leaf to have his picture taken.
Wildflowers are popping up on the edges of our woods. These early examples are just the beginning of the parade of wildflowers that will last through October. Although it's May I haven't seen any May apples. Maybe they're deeper in the woods than I've ventured lately. I love their shiny leaves and the unusual way the delicate white flowers bloom beneath them.
When I lived in Hermann, one of my favorite events was the annual wildflower walk each May at a nearby state park. Whole families would take part in this highly anticipated event, during which we'd see at least two dozen or more species. Several people had been going on the walk for many years; they kept journals in which they noted having seen more than 100 flowers, including some extremely rare ones, over the course of all the walks.
Some of these same people also hunted morels. I suppose morel season has passed now. I never knew about this hysteria-inducing mushroom before I moved to Hermann. We never had morel walks because everyone had his or her own "secret" morel-hunting spot and made a big deal out of it. As a result, over time I found the whole morel business more and more obnoxious. The mushroom tastes okay; finding and preparing it seemed like a lot of bother for something not all that special. But above all, I thought the supposed location of a bunch of mushrooms (which may or may not be the same place every year) was a dumb thing to act all mysterious about.
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