Two women own the small company I work for. When one of them went on vacation last summer, the other came from the Massachusetts office to babysit the business. J found this African violet and another languishing on C’s desk, and brought them to me to see if they could be brought back to life.
They’ve been slowly gathering strength since I put the pots in little bowls of water on my window ledge at work. Look here! One of them is trying to bloom!
Family’s coming to our house for Thanksgiving. D is painting the doors. I touched up the paint on the gate. It was worn away by last year’s Christmas decorations rubbing against it in the wind. How pathetic is that?
We did a lot of things today, including shopping for the mainstays of the Thanksgiving feast, but so far this made me feel the most accomplished.Now to write…
E & G from my writing group came up for the day today. We wrote for 2 1/2 hours, hiked, had lunch, talked…and played ball with my budgie, Rocky.
He ran back and forth across the table, tapping on the ball, chattering in his musical little voice. He’d throw a ball off the edge of the table, then run over to look at where it fell. He gets a kick out of people picking up stuff for him, and G & E were both good playmates.They left about an hour ago. Rocky’s still sitting quietly on the table. Awww.
Photo taken Friday, November 18th.
I found out a couple of months ago that I could deposit my checks in the ATM beneath the Disney Channel building. Disney’s credit union and mine have an agreement. I usually go in through the artrium, but I couldn’t find parking in the 10-minute zone outside of it, so I went round the corner.
If you walk straight in from the side of the building I was on, you are questioned by security because you have access to the whole office building. It looked like I could go around the back, so I decided to try that. A few feet in, I came upon these big dishes. There are about 6 of varying sizes back there.It felt kind of creepy. These are listening devices, not broadcasting devices, I think. They remind me of the Very Large Array that’s listening for signs of intelligent life in outer space. Probably all very above board, but…
Anyway, I was nervous as I whipped my camera out of my bag and stood there and framed this shot. Wondered if security would come around the corner and sandbag me.But no. I just went on in, did my banking, and left quietly. Whew.
Wrote for about an hour. Decided to expand on a character that I’d just told about before. I hope this is the right thing to do.
Also went in and edited the outline. It helped to add stuff that I’ve written, and to see it in that bare bones state. A reminder of what the story is that I’m trying to tell.Have been listening to T.C. Boyle short stories (Afer the Plague) in the car for the past week. He’s an amazing storyteller. He’s really good at making you see how a character can come to a conclusion and set out upon a course of action that you may think is absolutely wrong, misguided or crazy, but you believe that the character believes it. That moment of committment to a course of action is really critical and fascinating.
I used to be fairly shy about takingmy camera out. Yesterday I had to go to the doctor. Felt like I was going to faint a couple of times and—long story short—my blood pressure was low. Great! This means the exercise and weight loss finally paid off. I’m going off my high blood pressure prescription.
But the important part… I’m lying there feeling miserable, waiting, waiting. Then, hey, I haven’t taken a photo today. Grabbed my camera out of my purse and viola! Actually took about 4 shots around the exam
room. It was a little excruciating because my camera, in spite of fresh batteries, seems to be grinding to a halt. It took what felt like forever to recharge for the next photo.
If my doc had come in, what would I have said? Well, there’s this site called 43things, and my blog and— Really, I’ve never wanted to become intimate with the workings of the pysch ward.
Meanwhile, I am very much relieved that this episode was not stress related. I've been working hard on a rewrite of my novel and I'd be truly saddened if I found that I am not physically or emotionally strong enough to work all day and write for a few 
hours at night.
I keep changing the dates on these posts so that they reflect the day that I took the photo rather than the day I posted. I'm going to stop doing that. It'll look like I skipped a day, but no.
Also, I need to figure out how to better manipulate pictures here. Maybe there's a better template for photos?
See? Teasing me, I tell you. Photo really doesn’t capture how pretty this was. The sky was actually a purpley blue and the moon was bigger. Honestly! Maybe the red neon threw my faltering little camera’s color sensors off?
I've been working furiously on a rewrite of my first novel. I think I'm getting a little worn out. My eyes are burning from spending so much time at work and home staring at the computer screen . I am not getting as much sleep as I need. Keep thinking of the song lyric, "Who'll stop the rain?" but with the words, "Who'll stop my brain?"
Took this photo over the dashboard while driving home on the freeway. I know it’s wrong. But the moon has been just TEASing me the last few days, popping up in the most beguiling places!
It’s there, just above the ridgeline a little left of center. Obviously, I couldn’t focus!
I also tried on really hot black leather shoes with heels that look like boots under pants. Maybe should have gotten those too, as I’m trying to dress better. But these were so cute and COMFY, I opted for these. Sort of like Earth Shoes. And a good deal, too!
The remnants of my bath. I was feeling a little burnt out. Decided to take a bath. I gathered up three magazines and the new Trader Joe’s catalog, but when I lit the candles, I realized I should just STOP with the constant multi-tasking and focus on…not focusing.
Oh yeah… Lilac bath bubbles followed up with Tangerine sugar scrub. Sugar is a nicer base for a scrub than salt. With salt, I always find the little nicks on my arms from gardening…ouch.
The view over the roses on the far side of our driveway. When we bought this house 5 years ago, we could see across the valley from here. Our neighbor planted trees that block the view. It just makes me sick, but I try not to dwell on it, and focus on the view we have left and the fact that we can have it all by walking up the slope behind the house.
CT, the office manager where I work, is a veteran of the first Gulf War. She’s now, like my husband, a veteran for peace. She’s not in yet this morning, so maybe this entry’s a little premature, but I brought her flowers to thank her for her service.
Vets who don’t want to see other soldiers go through a war unless it’s absolutely necessary don’t get the appreciation that those who are willing to walk in parades do.I haven’t ever supported this current war, but I do support the individuals who are giving their lives. Even those who come back without a scratch have given the life they would have known if they hadn’t gone. They’ve done so in good faith and they deserve our respect.
Thank a vet. You can do it whether you’re for or against this war.
D and I went out for a little hike around our neighborhood and I took some photos that I thought I might use here.
When we were fixing dinner, Dodger (parrot) started asking for apple. We hadn’t eaten the last of the apples from the Granny Smith apple tree we planted a couple of years ago. We harvested 5 very tasty apples this year, the first that really tasted good. It was maybe the best Granny Smith I’ve ever tasted. It was on the tree so long it had a little blush on it, but it was still crisp and tangy, with a little extra sweetness and juice. Mmm.D cut it in half and set up this photo. Very artful. :)
I went and voted in California’s special elections today. This is where I voted, in the community hall of a local church.
I will just say that this was a huge expense and that we could have waited for a regular election. Thanks Mr. Schwartzenegger.But I will proudly wear my “I Voted” sticker. Everyone was in such a good mood. All feeling good about ourselves for participating, I guess.
I was running late because I had to pick up my car at the body shop…again. Now it’s running fine and looks great. They even replaced the hood, which was twisted a bit in the accident. D dropped a computer monitor on it when it was about a week old, so that’s also been taken car of and it looks almost new. Probably would have been smart to have taken a photo of THAT, huh.
Well, obviously. But it took me a while to get my decorations down.
I’m always pleased—and a little surprised—when everything fits back into the box it came in. Here it is, all ready to go back into the garage, where there was still shelf space waiting for it.
In a few weeks, D will give the house the big Christmas treatment. The little evergreen out front may just be ready for lights this year!
My friend K in NYC sent me this amazing response. (Since allowing comments means getting meaningless ads from people I turned that feature off; she sent this to my e-mail and granted me permission to post it here.)"I discovered this truth through personal experience and I thought I would share the story with you:
"A year after I moved to New York my apartment burned. I lost everything except one cat (black of course). A former work friend, R, who was touring with a dance company heard about it the next day and, because she had been involved with a fire 4 years before, called where I was staying and offered her apartment which was sitting empty while she was on the road. Then she told me who to contact and what to do to get Red Cross and city and all those things rolling to help me get a new apartment. This was fabulous. I stayed at her place for a month, went to the Red Cross and got clothes and a voucher for help with apartment rent, etc. I moved into my new place and really didn’t see R very much. Years later I had moved into the apartment I’m now in and it’s across the street from R. New York being New York I never see her."One day I was walking past her building thinking about what a wonderful thing she had done all those years ago, without being a close friend or asking for money or any of that, and how I really should just call her up and thank her. Then, low and behold, there’s R coming out of the subway right in front of me. I stopped her. She looked very distracted, maybe even upset, but she recognized me and stopped for a moment. So all I said was, “I was just thinking about everything you did when my apartment burned back in the 70’s and how I never would have made it without you. You letting me stay in your apartment and everything you told me to do. I don’t think I ever thanked you half as much as you deserved.” She looked at me weirdly, sort of humphed, thanked me for thanking her, and walked away. I thought, “Well, at least I thanked her, which makes ME feel better, even though she doesn’t seem to care.”
"That night when I got home there was a message from R on my phone machine. She apologized for the way she acted on the street. She’d simply been stunned by synchronicity. She had been coming from the bedside of a dying friend who was passed talking. She had sat next to him thinking, “I can’t do anything for him. I’ve never been able to do anything for any body. What the hell have I ever done to help anything in this life….” And on and on—and was still thinking that when she got out of the subway, only to be hit in the face with old time gratitude for something she didn’t even remember doing because she’d been on the road and had never seen me in her apartment, or had to deal with any of the stuff that had happened around my fire. To her it was a forgotten phone conversation, over in less than 5 minutes, before she had to get back to work.
"Anyway, sorry to go on this long, but there you have my story…well, R’s story. I somehow felt forced to share."I LOVE your blog and will make it a regular web stop! The pictures are great—loved the pumpkin!"
Photo is from the Internet...a copy of the New York Street set at Paramount Studios. Why use the real thing when you can use a set?
Why I didn’t write Friday, even though I have committed to work on my novel rewrite every day until it's done.
The body shop called in the morning to tell me that they’d finished the $7,000 worth of repairs and I could pick up my Toyota Echo. The one that was rear-ended on the freeway almost a month ago now (October 6th), with me in it. Happiness! Joy! Better gas mileage than the rental Honda! I love this car and I am glad glad glad that it was not totaled.
The rental car people drove me to the body shop after I dropped off the Honda. I transferred my books and stuff into it happily and took off under instructions to drive it over the weekend and see how it handled. There should be no problems, but the work is guaranteed as long as I own the car. Great.
I take off and I hear a weird repetitive noise coming from the right front of the car. I pull into a gas station a few miles from the body shop, get out and check out the area, and find a big piece of tape on the tire that was flopping against the wheel well. Whew. I notice that there’s something strange about the remote door locks. The car beeps every time I push a button. Oh, no. I do not like that. I go back to the body shop, but that’s something the dealer needs to deal with. Okiedokie.
I probably would have experienced déjà vu from the accident, except that this time the SUV behind me is paying attention and I don’t get rear-ended. I do however, feel a huge rush of fear as I find that not even my flashers are working. The guy who was behind me has eased into another lane, and now I’m vulnerable to anyone who’s less attentive, and I have no way to warn them.
When I go to move the car a few feet into the entrance of the service area, it dies again. Good car. It’s trying to cooperate and not just act like it’s okay when the mechanic is there. It’s willing to have symptoms in front of other people. I love this car. I have not had a lick of trouble with it in two years and 49,000 miles.
I go to the waiting room and call the insurance company. No one answers, but I leave a message. I call the body shop and tell them they sent me off onto the freeway in rush hour traffic with a part missing from my car and I could have been damaged very badly. I keep my voice low because I’m in a public place and… I just am not much of a yeller.
Just then, RG, the service department guy, comes in and says, “We figured it out! You can take your car!” He sees my face. Asks if I’m okay, did I get any coffee, do I want some, etc. Very, very nice. He has me sit in his office while he brings the car and a mechanic back to the front. I can tell he’s excited that they figured it out.
I thank RG and tell his manager how terrific he was. They aren’t even charging me the $85.00 they said they’d have to charge for diagnostics if I didn’t have the work done there. I am going to write to RG and to his bosses and tell them how great he was, because that’s one of the ways the world stays a great place to live in.
D and I had dinner. He drove the Echo and I followed in the Tahoe. I opened a bottle of champagne when we got home around 7:30. We’d left the house around 5:15 that morning.
So that’s why, in spite of my fierce desire to honor my commitment to write every day until my novel rewrite is complete, I didn’t last night.
He did Alice’s Restaurant, a LONG song. It was like listening to a loved one tell you a favorite bedtime story…except funnier. His comments between—and sometimes during!—the songs were just great. Nice long set.
He also did a couple of his father’s songs. You know, Woody Guthrie. The guy who wrote that song from your third grade songbook: This Land Is Your Land. It was very moving to hear him sing it and to see his son, Abe, on keyboards, singing along and looking at him with love and admiration.
It was a wonderful concert, opened by The Mammals, which is headed by Pete Seeger’s grandson, Tao Rodriguez-Seeger. Terrific folk and rock group.
I didn’t check my batteries. The dozen or so photos I thought I might have gotten, I didn’t. All sans flash, of course. The photo on the right is the only one that came out very well at all.
This statuette came from my husband’s cousin’s yard. She passed away last winter. I’m glad we have this and a few other things from the day we helped clear out her apartment. She was a unique character, always coming up with the most remarkably forward questions. I loved her for the guileless way she’d ask them. Almost like a little kid, even though she was an intelligent adult. I’d like to be better at asking questions like that, that dig a little under the surface of polite conversation. They’re thought provoking and even a little flattering, if you think about it.
He got fed up with all the flash photography before he finished the candy corn. Is nothing sacred? Do we have to have a photo of every little intimate moment?
I fear I am the paparazzi in my bird’s life.He had a blast last night hearing the kids on the street in front of the house, and me popping up to get the door, etc. He sang, and whistled and talked all evening and then conked out as soon as we turned off the outside lights and settled down around nine.
Probably my favorite was a five-year-old(?) fairy girl who was fascinated with the iron Boston bull that we use as a doorstop. I thought later I should have picked it up and let her touch it. Sigh.
And the kid whose older brother told him he did a good job and rubbed him on the head. The little one said, “I know how to trick or treat!”
A couple of years ago I bought a big bag of brocolli at Costco and greeted the kids at the door with a collander full of it. I held it out and they were so shocked! My favorite was the 8-year-old who laughed with releif when I brought out the Snickers and said, “OH! That was SCARY!” It was also a lot of fun to hear the kids telling their parents what had happened when they got to the end of our sidewalk.
I don’t dress up, usually. I have a skulls and tombstones T-shirt though. I wear that. Well, and sometimes the fabulous witch hat comes out of the closet.
Photo is of the window right next to the front door.
The kindling will go into the shed to dry and the rest of the wood will go under the bench on the front porch (after Halloween—the bench has to be moved so kids can easily get through) to dry out.
We bought a new extension ladder and I actually got onto the roof. It was just too much for me to move from the step ladder to the roof before. It was a great day for it. Not too hot or cool. The pitch of the roof is not steep, so once there it’s not too challenging.
Of course, I had my husband bring up the camera when he went down to get the saw attachment for the extension pruner. The view was kind of amazing from up there!
The window in my studio was open and the neighbor was helping her son load stuff from her house into his SUV. Loading and unloading his stuff is a pretty regular event. He moved out. Wrecked his brand new truck. Moved back in to save for another vehicle. Now drives an older, decidedly less shiney SUV. He came with a U-Haul. He was only taking away a trunkload yesterday. L is very patient with him, it seems. Dodger is fascinated with the goings on.
When there was an exchange of slightly heated words, Dodger crooned, “Oh… Oh… Oh…” in very sympathetic tones. Jeez, they were only a few feet across the road. I tried to keep my eyes on my screen, but clearly I know more about them than I’ve strictly been told by L.Yes, that’s a stick holding up the window. Something needs to be done about this.
Okay. I admit it. Mini frosted shredded wheat isn’t the height of health and self-control, but it’s a move in the right direction. This got a little soggy while I photographed it from various angles.
Ah, the sacrifices we make for our art.
I got to work early this morning and the server was down, which just logically leads to “I deserve” thinking. It seemed that I really deserved a bacon breakfast burrito and a Diet Pepsi. It sort of soothed my 43Things addiction shakes until I could finish what I needed to do there and pack up all my work and bring it home. Er, and get on 43Things while I do said actual work.
Mom and I feasted on the fabulous $3.50 breakfast special. One of us ordered the pototoes, the other the pancakes with it, so we had tastes of everything. We share a passion for not having to choose. (Some call it sharing.)
Then I dropped her at the airport. We talked about how it was sad when we stopped being able to get to the airport early and hang out to say goodbye (due to 9/11 changes), but that this new tradition is a good one. Change isn’t easy but sometimes new benifits unfold.
Sniffle. I miss her already.
We sat down again to enjoy the tidied up view, and the sun began to slant across the slope and light things up from behind. I think I actually have another shot that’s better, but this one is nicer in the small size.
I don’t know what the flower is… I threw a mixture of wildflower seeds on the slope a couple of years ago and these have been a real joy.
Maybe I’ll take a photo of the ashes later and post it…
So this entry is about the Ethiopian restaurant my mom and I went to before the museum. Merkato, on Fairfax. We had the trout, which was delicious. It was accompanied by sides of dishes made, respectively, of tomatoes, lentils, collard greens, cabbage and split yellow peas. My second time, my mom’s first.
This doll was hanging on the wall.
Came home and watched Seabiscuit again. Hey, we sat right there! We walked right through there!
This sweet little house was probably in the middle of orange groves 60 years ago. Kids were raised here. The road was probably dirt. Now it’s a business. Where they sell grave markers. I wonder if anyone drives her kids or grandkids by this house and says, “That’s where I grew up.” I wonder what picture she has in her mind of the surrounding valley and her old neighbors.
