While strolling on the bluff

I'm thinking California Kingsnake.

Next day, Snake Handler commented on my Flickr site: "Yes, a California Kingsnake, non-venomous and very acclimated to human habitations. Hope he does not run across a dumb redneck."

March reads

Some (but not all) of you may know that I'm a big reader. Well, maybe a middle-sized reader. I usually get through a couple of books a month, unless they are particularly fat ones. That's less than dedicated readers consume, but probably more than the general population.

My sidebar shows what I've recently read, but I thought I might try a new feature here, finishing up the month on the ole blog with a bit of a showcase of the month's reads.

Or maybe I'm only enthusiastic about the idea this month because the reads have been particularly good.

So here they are:

The Cider House Rules by John Irving. I loved this book enough to give it 5 (out of 5) stars on Goodreads. And believe me, I'm stingy with my stars. Irving happens to be the author of one of my favourite-books-of-all-time (A Prayer for Owen Meany) but that doesn't mean I like all he has written. This one, though, it's a good one. Better than the movie (but aren't they always?)

The Lover by Marguerite Duras. I oscillated between three and four stars on this one. It's an odd but strangely moving tale. I am not a big fan of shifting perspectives or random, unconnected musings, but overall it was a poignant tale told in very beautiful language. I guess we should thank both the author and the translator (Barbara Bray) for that.

Bad Science by Ben Goldacre is a must-read for anyone who is interested in (a) their health and (b) thinking for themselves. Very funny, very informative, and very challenging. I'm buying this for my Dad, and several other people I care about. Because we shouldn't just swallow what the media feeds us about our bodies and our health.

So tell me ... what have YOU been reading lately?

Henry Coe State Park

At over 87,000 acres, Henry Coe is the second largest state park in California. I did a five mile hike, which of course only gave me a small sampling of the park's diversity, but it definitely seems worth a return visit. Northern California is so different from Southern. It's so much wetter and greener.
There were lots of little rushing creeks ...


... pretty moss ...


... and signs of spring. The ranger told me to come back next month for a better wildflower show, but I think I'll wander out to the desert then.


May these quiet hills bring peace to the souls of those who are seeking. Ahhh, yes. They did. Thank you, Henry Coe.

And now I'm home, showered, and ready for bed, tired and happy re another more than satisfactory little solo getaway.

Cruising to Santa Cruz

Yesterday I drove 300-odd miles north through intermittent rain to a quaint bed-and-breakfast in Carmel-by-the-Sea. I stay in B&Bs whenever I get the chance, because I have a half-serious desire to own my own one day. I think.

This was the weekend I planned to camp at Henry Coe State Park, but the inclement weather had me seeking drier accommodations. There'll be plenty of time for camping in the summer.



By 10AM this morning I was ensconced in the living room of my pal Doña in Santa Cruz, cooing at her adorable 7-week-old. After practicing my baby whisperer skills, sipping tea and chatting for several hours, I headed a little further north to another of my calendar State Parks, Pigeon Point Light Station Historic Park.

(To anyone contemplating this drive: I recommend stopping at Pie Ranch for a leek galette. Yummy!)

Basking sealions

The lighthouse keeper's quarters now operate as a hostel. Have you ever stayed in a hostel? Back in the 70s our family traveled around Europe and enjoyed these inexpensive accommodations (then called "Youth Hostels" though you didn't have to be young to stay in them.) I don't see many here in America, and I'm interested to note that the organization's logo has not significantly changed in all this time!

Tomorrow: Henry Coe.

Absolution

Sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we make expensive mistakes. And sometimes, just sometimes, those who are affected by those mistakes give you flowers and tell you that it doesn't matter, that you're still a good person.

This is what forgiveness looks like. I've received flowers and a little note many times in my life, and they've always been lovely, but this time, this time, this seemingly simple gift plucked the feeling-like-shit badness right out of my heart and tossed it out of sight. In one instant, I felt forgiven, absolved. Do you know what that feels like? It feels like flying.

I don't think my co-worker will ever know how much it meant to me. But it's got me thinking ever since. Thinking about the incredible gift of forgiveness, and how I want to extend it to others.

Because we're all human. We all mess up sometimes. But we're still good people, and it'll all turn out alright.

Commuting blues

For the past two days, my commute has taken waaaaay too long. Two hours in the evening (up from 1.25 hours), because of rain damage to one lane of Pacific Coast Highway. Then today my morning commute was a crawl, courtesy of a burst water hydrant in Malibu.

I am so looking forward to moving much, much closer to work. It's the bright spot in all the sadness that's currently going down.

The Last Date

Three days before the seventh anniversary of our first date, we went on what will probably be our last date.

You keep it up, you try so hard
To keep a life from coming apart
Never know what breaches and faults are concealed
In the shape of a heart
In the shape of a heart
In the shape of a heart
-Jackson Browne

How to start a new life: Part 5

Retract your spines. Lay down your shield. It's OK to be vulnerable. Let your healer massage the spots that make you cry. Then, when you feel better, dance. It's a beautiful day, and it's all fine. Seriously.

How to start a new life: Part 4

Plan an adventure.

I've waited a long time to visit the China Lake petroglyphs. After all, only U.S. citizens are allowed on the site. Come June, I'm there!

How to start a new life: Part 3

Reach out to your network. They know you. They love you. They'll help you.
This fortune was sitting next to the office coffee machine this morning. I didn't have my glasses on, so couldn't really read it, but I figured it was a message for me, so I stuck it in my pocket to read later.

How to start a new life: Part 2

Instead of crying, go for a night walk. Take photos of familiar places in a new light.

How to start a new life: Part 1

Pot some herbs to take with you. Sage, for wisdom. Thyme, for courage. Rosemary, for remembrance.

Tenuous

Sometimes the bond you thought was strong, turns out to be tenuous. Life's funny like that.

But it'll be all right in the end. If it's not all right, it's not the end.

Reversible baby pants

Two Three of the three babies currently hatching in my family have been identified with XY chromosomes, so I'm whipping up the boy pants in bulk. I started with Anna Maria Horner's Quick Change Pants pattern, but was concerned that they wouldn't fit over cloth nappies. So I took the reversibility of that design and added it to Rae Hoekstra's Big Butt Baby Pants, to create roomy, reversible dacks. I think we have a winner!

Taking the Oath

Today, just shy of 14 years after moving to America, I joined 2,001 others at Pomona Fairplex in making the Oath of Allegiance. Yep, I now have dual citizenship.
The oldest participant was 99, and could walk unaided. Good for her! But I do wonder what benefits someone that age hopes to attain from citizenship, that she wasn't already getting from a green card. I mean, she's unlikely to get picked for a jury. Perhaps she just really wants to vote in next year's election.

Show and Tell Monday: Jewelry bowls

Deb asked about these, spotted in the background of another photograph, so I thought I'd bring them out as this week's Show and Tell.

I have a tendency to give away nearly everything that I make, so I'm glad that I kept a couple of these fabric 'jewelry boxes' that I made years ago. Inspired by Teesha Moore's fibre art, I fashioned each one from bits and pieces I had at hand, quilting each layer with running stitches, and embellishing with buttons, beads and lace.





Can you call it a box if it's soft and squishy, and has no lid? Maybe these should be called jewelry bowls instead.

I went for a walk on a sunny Sunday ....

... and saw, among other things ....
Brad's garden (and met Brad, who offered to put beets and broccoli in the box early tomorrow morning so I could come by and get them) ...
half a gargoyle ...
oranges glowing like harvest moons ...
shocking crimson bougainvillea ...
and flowering plum trees. As I was shooting these, a man surprised me with, "Do you like flowers?" He'd approached from behind, and was walking my way, so for a few blocks we chatted about gardens, and fruit trees, and the pleasures of perambulation. "My name is Bobby, nice to meet you," he said as we parted, shaking my hand.

If I had stayed inside this sunny Sunday, I wouldn't have met Brad or Bobby, or smelled the jasmine, or filled my lungs with good winter air.

I'm glad so I went.

Planning more getaways

View 2011 State Parks in a larger map

This weekend: San Francisco Bay area, including Pigeon Point Light Station.

Next month: Camping in Henry W. Coe State Park. Who wants to be my camping buddy?

February 14

Valentine's Day always feels awkward and forced to me, and that, in turn, makes me feel a bit grinchy. A day to celebrate love, what could be wrong with that? But I never know what to write on the card.

Tonight I came across these words from Jen Lee: "I do not think of love as a stable substance. I picture us handling it with heavy mitts and tongs and trying not to drop it as we pass it around the room .... love is like the opposite of kryptonite -- it is the unstable substance that we cannot live without, in whose absence we wilt and our strength wanes."

This is how I feel right now, that it's a hot potato we are trying not to drop as we pass it around the room; I'm looking at it from the corner of my eye, so as not to let it burn a hole through my palm. Having to write about it on a card is too confronting, too defining, if I want to speak truth and not platitudes. It will crack me right open. And that might hurt.

So while I warmly appreciate flower deliveries and serenades, and while I can't stop making gifts and cards, this focus, in one day, on lovelovelove always feels somewhat embarrassing. Would anyone mind if I opted out?

Monday Show and Tell: hand knitted socks

My sister is a knitter. I kind of, occasionally, knit, but I would never refer to myself as a knitter. OK, I have a Ravelry account, but that's just so I can leave nice compliments on my sister's page. It's not that I dislike knitting, I just ... don't do it much. Here in SoCal, hand knits aren't high on the must-have list, you know? Except for socks, which, even in SoCal, I wear a couple of times a week.

So a few years ago I asked Nettie for advice on patterns and yarn for socks, and she kind of hesitated, before blurting out, "Do you mind NOT knitting socks? Can this be one thing I can do, but you don't?"

"Why sure," I replied. "But you know what this means: you have to keep me supplied with hand-knitted socks!"

Which brings me to today's Show & Tell. Nettie has fulfilled her side of the bargain admirably, and this week brought another awesome set of foot-coverings to my door. I now own four pairs of Nettie-made socks (there was another set a while ago, but I foolishly sent them to their felted death in the clothes dryer). I absolutely love them. I actually think they might be the prettiest pair of socks I've ever seen. What do you think?

Am I lucky to have such a nice sister, or what?

Winter sun

Lavender is meant to flower in summer. Apologies to those folks currently suffering in winter blizzards, but have I mentioned lately how much I love living in southern California? The bees seem pretty happy too.