If this is heaven, there must be cheesecake...

Last night was my womens' meeting's semi-annual potluck. As usual, Bev made her amazing pork roast. The rest of us supplied salads, side dishes, and of course, desserts. That is what I always bring, because there are lots of wonderful bakeries around that make it for me. I mosied over to Costco after school, and sidled up to the cheesecake division of their bakery, and there it was: Key lime cheesecake. Now, I adore key lime pie, and cheesecake, well, let's just say if I was diagnosed with a deadly disease, that is all I would eat for the rest of my short life. My mythology teacher says some scholars think ambrosia was not a drink, but something solid. That would be cheesecake. I must admit, last night's offerings were very healthy. We had edadame salad, and sauted tofu, and roasted veggies with our pork roast. And left room for the three desserts: an amazing chocolate walnut meringue, a mocha refrigerator cake with apricot filling and whipped cream frosting, and the aforementioned key lime cheesecake. I was pretty pooped and uber-hungry when I arrived. After the dessert, the sugar high kept me up till midnight. But it was worth it. I brought home the last piece, which I consumed only a moment ago. Burp.

The other side of the mountain, finally...

Okay. Paper on Schiele is done and turned in. Mbuti project is done, critiqued and hanging on the wall in the hall of the Art Building. And the project on the P and J myths from Genesis, the contradictory and highly discriminatory stories of the creation of Adam, and in particular, his gal, is finished and properly presented to the class. I was the first to do that, got extra credit, and it went pretty well, not the best, but not the worst, either. And now, I am ready to fall into bed for the entire weekend and not think of anything. Except maybe beginning to study for next quiz in art history. And make a new collage for an abstract painting in oil painting class. And read the Hymn to Aphrodite in the Homeric Hymns. And mow the lawn. And wrap my daughter's graduation present. And clean the house. And do the laundry. And walk the dog. And make a whole bunch of phone calls, like to the DMV to make an appointment to renew my driver's license. Okay, that's about all for now. Luckily, I have a three day weekend to accomplish all this. It will all be over in a month, just one little month. Groan.

Ta Da!

I hired my friend the handy dandy landscape person came over recently and together, we tamed the jungle in the backyard. Only took three hours, with frequent breaks for water and schmoozing. I weeded and trimmed, she mowed, a major feat as it was really overgrown. Got war wounds wrestling with the blackberries that have taken over the north forty, and a little color on my nose and shoulders. It was so much fun, I have been ambling out there everyday and doing a little more. I planted vegetables! This has been my plan for three years, and it finally happened. None of the little suckers have died yet, though one zucchini looked a little peaked. If all goes well, I will have tomatoes, green peppers and squash out the wazoo, enough to fill up a sweet little basket and take them to friends. I have always wanted to be one of those people. I also planted two sunflowers, mammoth ones. If they come up, I am going to be soooooo excited. My roses did not get pruned this year, and are all bushy but still putting out lots of blooms. The wisteria got overgrown and so heavy part of it broke off, poor thing, but we propped it up again and tied it to a big stake and it is happily if sparsely blooming, too. I just got in from watering and feeling pretty darned abundant with this great space to play in. Now Boo won't come in encrusted with burrs anymore. How sweet it is. All because I asked for and got help. We can all use some, you know.

I love you, California...

That's actually our state song. My mother knows all the words to it. Funnily enough, I don't, though I know all the words to the Hawaiian state song, in Hawaiian. Don't ask. Anyhoo, our sweet state enjoys a lovely temperate climate. In 24 hours, we have gone from thermal sweatshirt/heat dish weather to tank top/ceiling fan weather. I released my toes from their cotton prisons and painted them coral pink. And, with a little help from a friend, we tamed the backyard jungle again, so that it looks like a country club. The yard of shame is all tidied up, as well, and the car got it's zen carwash this afternoon. If this is not enough to convince you spring has sprung, just get a gander of the tomato, pepper and zucchini plants I plopped into the barrels out back today. Am I something or what! Also have pretty pink shoulders. Love that vitamin D.

Morning in the Yucatan, afternoon in Zaire

I spent my morning up to my neck in Mayan myth, all about Quetzlcoatl, Xmucane, and the first four humans, Jaguar Quitze, Jaguar Night, Dark Jaguar, and Not Right Now. Really, that's their names. Just love those Mayans. In our Color Theory class, we are doing Mbuti cloth reproductions, which is really fun, like kindergarten for college students. We each got a big square of brown paper, which we wadded up and got all wet, then spread out to dry. We tore the edges so it is irregularly shaped, then began painting it like a crazy quilt, paying attention to dark and light, warm and cool, bright and dull colors. Each section then gets its own design, large and small, active and quiet, etc. I nearly went cross-eyed painting this one black patch with yellow tiger stripes, but it came out fine and really is striking. And I love the yellow patch that I decorated with black dragonflies. Not as thrilling or wonderful as some of the students who came before me, pretty rough around the edges (like me, I suppose), but it will be an original, for sure. How much fun can one little old lady have, anyway?

She puzzled and puzzed...

I was thinking about Buddha today, as this was his birthday, I think, April 8th. That symbol for yin and yang, the circle split in two, black and white, each with a dot from the corresponding side, do you think that means that there is a blessing in every trial, and a trial in every blessing? This is a world of dualities: black and white, dark and light, old and young. How can we know joy if we never know suffering? Would you give up joy to not suffer? I don't think so. Joy is too precious. And rain, well that's just so I can appreciate sunshine. And winter brings the spring. Too bad I cannot go back to young now. I would savor it so much more than I did when I was there. Which reminds me, my birthday is coming. Will you still love me? I'm going to be 64. Paul McCartney is single. There's a thought.

Have some perspective, my dear?

Ah, the beauty of other people's travails. I sojourned down to Marin County today, that bastion of the botoxed and beautiful. I used to work down there, and never could get a line on what was happening. Lots of shiny cars, mostly in black and white and silver and gray, with a smidge of champagne beige to add some class. Lots of all-natural-fiber folks, looking fabulously green and firm. Today, I met with three former office-mates. Three of us are retired now. The youngun is still toiling away, though from her residence, which keeps her sane and far from our mutual boss, dear man that he is. I began this day toting about my cross-du-jour, a potpourri of angst that ranges from a sticky situation with a relative to the usual champagne-taste/beer budget stuff. And I came home happy and full of gratitude. These women are facing ailing husbands, chronic illness, adolescents learning to drive (been there, done that, bought the t-shirt). Me, I am hanging together fairly well health-wise, and my greatest responsibility is the Boo, who is at the moment, all well and sassy. How sweet it is, a soupcon of perspective keeps the blues away.

The weather inside...

Just returned from a little walk with little Boo, bag of Boo poo in hand. I noticed that today's weather pretty much mirrors my inner climate. On the surface, it is a pretty day to look at, all sunny and springy. But once out in it, there is a little chilly, goosebumpy breeze that sometimes just gets downright cold. We have not seen the last of winter. And I am kind of bearing my own inner chill, too. There was a time when this was outrageously importune. I am happy to say that my troubles have shrunk down from peaks and valleys to speedbumps and potholes, not major collisions, just occasions to pause on the shoulder of my highway of life and rethink my route. Today, that took me to (soul-sucking) Safeway, and that carrot cake that has been calling me lately is now in my fridge. Sigh.

Taking care of business...

I have been chewing on a troublesome problem now for a couple of weeks. What to do? Is this my fault? What is my part? Stew, stew, stew. And today, I remembered. I never could think myself into right action. The only thing that works is acting my way into right thinking. Wow, what a relief! So I am just doing what is in front of me. I went to a meeting (always a good idea, because others are dealing with real problems, stuff that is probably not temporary, like mine), then I got the car serviced (and only 500 miles late). I stopped at Trader Joe's, where I bought myself flowers. Also, some sushi for lunch, some avacados, some flaxseed cereal, some baby carrots, cage-free eggs, peppermint tea. Now I am here, relaxing into the day, about to take the dog for a walk before I assemble my outfit for tomorrow's trip to Marin County, where I am outclassed even before I start my engine, but always try, anyway. Not thinking too much today. Just taking care of business, as usual. All will fall out the way it is supposed to, any time now.

What. Ever.

Funny how retirement kind of takes the zing out of holidays. Easter, of course, was never a real holiday anyway, falling as it does on Sunday every year, and hell, I got Sundays off every week. I guess, like everything, holidays do that cycle thing. It was a time of new shoes and lots of candy when I was little, then smelly, long high mass early in the morning, followed by egg hunts and stomach aches. I liked the new dress and hat, for sure. Later, I had my own kids, and got to do the egg dying thing, and the egg hiding thing, and learned the importance of knowing how many eggs I had hidden to forestall a nasty surprise on the 4th of July. Then there were the champagne brunches or ham dinners, a long parade of them through the years of my middle-class marriage. Single parenthood moved holidays to more convenient times, as I was seldom the custodial parent on the really important dates. And now, well, holidays are a great time to go to the movies. Or take a walk with the dog, as I am doing this afternoon, now that he is perambulating on all four legs again, followed by a trip to the gas station (at least they are open - another major annoyance is all the stores are CLOSED!) for a gallon for the lawn mower. And maybe a Taco Bell cheesy beefy wrap for dinner. Okay, maybe not. But Taco Bell was open.

Tit for tat...

Happy to hear the professors are fighting back. Yes, I have been to ratemyprofessor.com. Verrrrry interesting. And pretty much dead on, these kids are. The design and composition teacher was a ditz. The geology professor was a peach, and a chili pepper, to boot. The American history guy was ho-hum, but hell, he played the banjo, how sweet it is! Now, MTV lets them tell the other side of the story. Which takes me to the coffee kiosk by Emeritus Hall, where I was tanking up for comparative mythology class, and talking to this other older lady, just chitchat. And I asked what she was majoring in, and she replied she was a teacher. Duh. So I told her how much I appreciate her. I think that's all anyone wants to hear, that those they served feel well served. Never hurts.

We plan, God laughs...

I am a born planner. Give me a year and I will plan the perfect weekend. And all that would be just fine if not for OTHER PEOPLE. A woman I do not know all that well but who I would like to know better suggested we do a retreat together. This was in April of 2007. So I sent in my deposit, and began planning. My dog was a major concern. He is older, and in need of medication at this time, and I didn't want him in a cage anywhere for three days. And, at the very last moment, my dog sitter couldn't. My only option was to trust a guy I really don't trust, because I was also responsible for driving my friend to and from our retreat center. Which made my retreat much more edgy than it might have been otherwise. I don't think I ever really arrived there, at this lovely convent right on the beach in Santa Cruz, with all these lovely other retreaters. We wound up coming home early, my friend to do some work, and me to hug my little dog, who, when I finally got him back, was walking on only three legs. Fortunately, that seems to have cleared up. Let us hope the infection does, too, because he missed a few pills while I was away. All of this teaches me that I must always have a Plan B in my back pocket. It is fortunate that one lesson I have learned from my eighteen years of recovery is to be flexible, and not to over-react to unexpected circumstances. And to always accept the responsibility and look at my part in the picture, because that is the only thing I can do anything about in the long run. And that I am perfectly human, and incapable of seeing the future. Wow, that's a lot! Some people I know who are a lot older than I do not know this stuff. I put myself on the mailing list for future retreats, and will try again next year. As long as I am sober, there is always hope.

It's not easy being me, Vol. XXXVIII

I am getting ready for my weekend getaway, which entails a great deal of thought and preparation, so I am a little distracted. Last night, while blowdrying my hair as I simultaneously heated up my curling iron, and ran the fan and heater in the bathroom, I overloaded the circuit and everything suddenly got dark and silent. This being not the first time I have done this, I know exactly where the circuit breaker box is. Since it is on the side of the house, and our little neighborhood does not have streetlights, I first had to know where a flashlight was. I found it in the third location I searched. Not bad. And yes, two of the little switch thingies in the box were at half mast, so I pushed them up to line up with the other soldiers. And nothing happened. I mulled. Since the computer was not on the now-dead circuit, I googled "overloaded circuit", which gave me all kinds of information, none of which told me how to un-overload that damned thing. Next action was to call Sue, who is a former homeowner and a fount of information on all sorts of things mechanical. Sue told me about the master switch, and that I couldn't hurt anything or myself by turning everything off and on again. I decided to wait for daylight to do that, which means that this morning I had to find an extension cord so I could put a lamp in the bathroom to do my leaving-the-house necessities like curl my hair and makeup my face. Curiously, I know I just saw an extension cord somewhere. At the moment, it still eludes me, so I pirated one from the lesser used side of the bed. Actually, I looked better in the light from the little lamp than I usually do in the bathroom overhead. However, I probably do not want to have to jump over the cord several times a day just to look 55 again. I made a little stab at those pesky switches again before toodling off to school, still loathe to turn off everything. I mean, that's hella-drastic. And once again, it did not do the trick. Off I went to study the Mahabhrata, then a truly spiritual experience at WalMart. Home again, I threw all caution to the wind, made sure everything I valued was off, and pulled the big switch. Nothing. Back to the circuit breaker box, and gee, those two errant soldiers were way out of formation again. I coaxed them back, and voila! We are cooking with gas here! And now I know what to do when it happens the next time. Which, spiritually speaking, it always will. Life on life' terms. My karma.

Help me, Obiwan Kenobi! You're my only hope!

Did I mention that I went gaga for Star Wars? I actually had a pirated copy of the movie (I didn't do it, it came to me in a round about way) long before it came out on video. Remember what a phenom it was? We'd never seen anything like it before. Of course, now we are inundated with digitally enhanced special effects, so much so that story and characters play a backseat role. Where is the Obiwan Kenobi of this millenium? Will we ever see another character with so much, well, character? Whatever. I am thinking, HELP, and that is what came to mind. I am taking my art history midterm tomorrow. All I will have in hand is a pen and a blue book. Everything else must be firmly in place, in my tiny head. The old brain is strained, for sure. Though, I did get my quiz 100% perfect, plus 4 points for extra stuff I threw in because I knew it. So maybe it is doable. I am finding that I learn a lot when material is presented to me this way. Multiple choice is maybe too easy? Oh, not. Thanks to Mr. Thompson who will make the quiz on the Mahabharata multiple choice. I could never remember all those names, for sure. The Pandavas and the Kauravas, Yudhisthira, Bhima, Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva, Paraudi, Krishna, Durodyana, Karna and that's just the beginning. Seriously overeducated, no doubt about it.

The yard of shame is no more!

It is, once again, lawn-mowing season in the neighborhood. Mine wouldn't start. The lawnmower, I mean. I filled it up with the dregs of gas in the red gascan that spits all over me when I turn it upside down, pressed the red rubber thingy three times, and sputter, sputter, sputter. Not even a healthy sputter, but a puny, throat-clearing ahem. So I put it back in the garage and went on a concentrated search for the manual. It wasn't where all the other manuals are, the can-opener and coffee-maker and microwave and toaster manuals, manuals I will probably never need to find again, ever. After a quick prayer to St. Jude, who is in charge of finding things for me, I located it in the tool cupboard. And it said that maybe my gasoline was old. Did you know that gasoline could get old? Well, if not, now we all know. So maybe I needed to drain the gas tank and start with new gasoline. Except that it didn't give me any instructions how to do that little thing. While I was fuming away, a friend called me. And she is the queen of lawn-mowers! In all her years of dealing with these balky things, she had never gotten an old gasoline problem. So I followed her instructions of pushing the red rubber thingy five times, trying (really hard) to get it started, and if unsuccessful, let it stew for a half hour and try again. And that worked! The psuedo-lawn is all mowed down and neatened up! And then it died, just as I was putting the finishing touches on. So I am off to the hardware store for a better gas can, one that doesn't have a dribble problem, and a funnel. That sounds like a quicker, easier way to go. I may even give the backyard a little try. Maybe.

How sweet it is!

I finally got my grades from last semester. Well, first I got this dandy little certificate in the mail saying I had achieved Dean's Highest Honors for the Fall 2007 semester. Really? I thought I royally blew the math final, as you may recall. Then this morning I learned I had scored 100% on my mythology test, and I am pretty sure I did the same on my art history test, so I decided I could now look and see what was up with that last semester. And, lo and behold, three As and a B in the dreaded Math 9, Finite Mathematics! Which makes me want to bang my head against the wall for not looking sooner. And the best thing is that I never have to take another math test as long as I live! My mythology teacher told the class today that they had "young and resourceful brains", and when I snickered he told me "yours is young and resourceful, too". And I think now that he is right. Just a little attention and I can remember the geneology of Inanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth, or that Soufflot designed the Pantheon (otherwise known as the Church of Sainte Genvieve) in Paris in 1755, and that it is Neo-Classical in style. New neural pathways are spitting out all kinds of information even as we speak. So, bravo, synapses! GRATEFUL.

My love affair with Oscar...

It was the 80th Academy Awards Sunday night. I have seen at least 60 of them. Well, that may be in my imagination, we didn't have a television till I was five, and probably they did not televise them till I was around eight, so that means I have only seen 55. And while I would like to say I have seen all the Best Pictures, I will admit that The Unforgiven remains to be viewed (I am westerned out from my youth, Wagontrain, Cheyenne, Sugarfoot, Maverick, etc. etc. etc.), and I skipped The Departed, which just seemed too sleazy. But I did see No Country for Old Men, and was delighted that it rose to the top, since the Coen brothers are idols of mine. Fargo and Raising Arizona and Oh, Brother Where Art Thou bristle with imagination, something that I find in short supply in this world that makes movies of old (and bad) TV sitcoms, video games and amusement park rides. And it is adult imagination, not easy to grasp even for college-educated ones, like my daughter and me. We looked at each other and wondered if the other knew what the ending of that film was all about. Luckily, we are adult enough to admit we don't understand something. And we left the theater feeling good that we had seen this film so we could tell people we had seen it. It just seemed like an adult way to while away a windy afternoon in the City.

PS I also saw Juno, and there is another film with dynamite dialogue, sweetness without the sap, a hopeful little movie about acceptance, surrender, letting go, and redemption. Mostly it was about being different, and how that can or cannot serve you. Diablo Cody certainly knows that, and wasn't she the epitome of daring, wearing a leopard-spotted gown among all the glitz? I liked it better than Tilda Swindon's pajamas, though.

Boo is home, and all is right with the world...

Mothers everywhere know the frustration of dealing with a sick baby, one that cannot say what is wrong, yet writhes in pain and discomfort. Then God gave us dogs, and we all get to know that awful feeling. Boo had been on the mend, then last night, he suddenly was in godawful pain, scrambling around the bed, howling and trying to get comfortable without much success. The first "emergency" vet I called could not see us for two hours. "But" I screamed, "this is an EMERGENCY!" So we went to another clinic. Of course, once he got there, he was no longer howling, and except for his usual vet demeanor, which consists of tucking his tail firmly between his back legs (you're gonna stick that thing where!) and trembling all over, he seemed almost normal. Which led this vet to begin to ring up test after test, xrays and such, till I said, no, I want to take him to his regular vet in the morning. So he got a shot of painkiller, and a prescription for pills, just in case, and home we went. And then it happened again this morning, when the shot wore off, howling and whimpering and scittering around. So off we went, again. Our vet ascertained that it was probably his ears, again, and proposed sedating him for a thorough exam and cleaning. That meant I went home without my Boo. From 9:30 till 3, I was dogless. It felt really weird, and every so often I would look up and wonder where he was. At one time, I had thrown a black sweater on the bed and I thought it was him, stretched out there looking out the window. Lord, I was soooooo happy to get him back. He is sore and kind of dopey still, and not without some pain, either, but on the mend. Not quite my Boo, but a most satisfactory reasonable facsimile. All for just under $500. It's a bargain.

What I did on my (five day) weekend...

My second ex-husband used to put movie reviews on his answering machine's outgoing message, giving plums or raisins, as the case may be. And while I always thought that was rather pompous, here are my reviews of the two movies I saw on this delightfully long, long weekend.
The Spiderwick Chronicles
Harry Potter fan that I am, how could I resist this movie? That young kid from Wonderland had a double role as twins, one meek and mild-mannered, the other a real shit-disturber. I found the interactions of the characters more engaging than most of the computer animation going on, and some of those animated characters were a little too precious for my taste. It was fun on a rather simple level.
Definitely, Maybe
Ah, this is everything I hoped 27 Dresses would be. Ryan Reynolds is sooooo cute (and tall, that's so refreshing in itself), Abigail Breslin is her sweet self, Rachel Weiz, well, they don't get any more sophisticated or disingenuous, do they. Mostly, the star of the show was the screenplay, which was smart and often really funny, a real plus in romantic comedies. I loved it.

In addition to going to the movies, on my weekend I knitted a red scarf, painted two still lifes and a color study of a pear, worked in my sketchbook, read a book and started another, rearranged lamps in the little yellow house, and slept late, every day except Friday, when Boo had to be into the vet early. Oh, yes, I gave Boo his five medications, twice a day. He is terrifically healthy at the moment. And me, I am well-rested and ready to schlep off to school tomorrow with my paintings and the 40 lb bookbag, for my two day schoolweek. It just keeps getting better.

I don't need no stinkin' Valentine...

Ah, another pseudo-Hallmark-holiday has come and gone. I am alone here in the little yellow house, have been for three years. And in the past, that was an occasion of much teary-eyed self-pity when the Hearts and Flowers (and chocolates) Day rolled around. However, here is what I have discovered - I have a built-in Valentine, one who knows exactly what I want and has the income and ability to give it freely. And that would be ME! My Valentine bought me pink tulips (which I immortalized in an alla prima painting yesterday), two DVD's, two books, and a comfort dinner of spaghetti with meat sauce and fresh asparagus. It was a warm and wonderful evening, under the quilts with my book and The Jane Austin Book Club on the tellie. And I spritzed myself with my Christmas parfum, and settled in for a night of self-care and gratitude. Boo curled up next to me in the circle of light from my little Tiffany flower lamp. We were the picture of contentment, an island of sweet serenity in a sea of relationships that, let's face it, are not always the happiest. So, God bless us, everyone. Or it that another Hallmark day?