A note for the end times.

 If the internet goes dark and the mail stops being delivered, try plugging in your land line. I'll call. I'll call twice a day when I can find a similar device. Hold the tin can up to your ear and I'll hold up mine and we'll try to hear each other from other sides of the world. Pull out the telegraph machine. stop. I'll send word somehow. stop. Maybe we can use morse code or find a network of working ham radios.  Be sure to stay safe and plant the seeds you need to keep full. I'll bring squirrels and buffalo from the Oregon Trail.  Travel at night, keep your water sanitized. The end times are not where I thought we'd spend our time but somehow we'll find a way to spend it together. Always hope for the best but stay alert. If the internet goes dark we'll have to teach the children how to use paper maps and compasses. Always face to the West. Head for the sunset. Don't let the bastards grind you down. 

A strange year to be sure

 

After nearly a year of strikes, I find my life is in another odd place I don't feel that I fully belong. I look back on my old life with such longing knowing that it is gone and all I have is now and whatever is still to come. It's strange to be floating around though, not sure what is missing, what I'm truly longing for. Somedays I'm so content and others I'm lost. Doing the things I thought I should in life haven't paid off and it really kills ambition for most things. 

Almost spring.

 Not quite spring, but the beginnings. Bulges of buds are starting, bulbs have sprung from the ground, not quite comfortable in my coat but not ready to go without it. But I am depressed. The world seems hell bent on destruction and unkindness. I am lonely but don't want to talk to people. I hope the spring brings a better outlook. I take these excursions and often talking with trees and shrubs is more helpful than you would think, but today I feel like going back to bed. 

NYC

 

Nature tends towards the complicated.

 

August is all about cleaning

 Remove the rubble, make room for the good. Breathe. Repeat

If I'm not paying attention on Zoom...

 It's because I'm busy taking screenshots of your cat. 

That is all.

2nd Dose Side Effect Log

 2pm Friday; 2nd Dose. 

Shot didn't hurt at all. 

Waited my 15 min; All good, went home

6pm Friday

Arm pain; 2

Hot compress, Advil and water administered

11pm; slight rash at injection site

Arm pain 3

temp 97.5

9:30 am Saturday; Woke up feeling normal, 

Arm pain 5; heat compress and Advil again

11am Saturday

Arm pain 4, rash fading already, otherwise feeling good, went out for a long walk

9pm Saturday

Damn! I got exhausted by what should not have been an exhausting walk. 

Arm pain; 2

12am Sunday

tired (but not asleep... sigh)

Arm pain 3

Fever! 100.2

10am Sunday

arm tender to the touch but no pain without poking it

Temperature; back to 96.9 

Feeling fine! 

Happiness isn't always picture perfect.

 Currently I have too much paper I'm hauling around. I recently moved apartments. Every time you move things you remember the literal and the figurative weight of it all. So I'm looking through boxes of physical photographs I have kept. I'm digitizing most of them, keeping some, and getting rid of the ones that lack sentimental value.

 These particular blurry photos are difficult to part with. I think I'll keep Shamu. I know that in recent times Sea World has come under scrutiny, but for me Sea World was an incredibly happy memory. Even as a child I have had so few days of true happiness that these hold the rarest impression of such a thing.

I was obsessed with whales. Where other girls would spend hours drawing horses and unicorns, I would be sketching orcas, dolphins, blue whales (and sharks too). I was a deeply serious kid for the most part. I usually only had one or two friends (except for at summer camp when suddenly I had many). These unfocused, poorly composed snaps I took with my little 110 film camera still hold magic for me and I need them to be visible, even to this sad abandoned side of the internet. At least I know they're out there, they could be found. 

No caption today

 

Pups and pics

 I love finding old photos of people with their pets. Well-loved dogs and dignified cats of the past make the people seem somehow more real to me. More than babies and Christmas dinners, I love seeing affections, quirks, jokes. I love seeing people climbing trees, playing in water. So often these old images feel so distant that the stories of the people in them might as well be in a textbook. This is a photo of my Grandmother being held by her father. She was a first child after he returned from serving as a medic in World War I. Grandma looks at the loving family dog who appears nearly natural standing on its hind legs. I wonder who was holding the camera. Probably my great-grandmother. I hope that the pup got head scratches and treats after the photo shoot. 

Pergatory

THINGS TO DO IN THE BELLY OF THE WHALE

by Dan Albergotti

Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.

Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life’s ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.

Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.

Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.

Covid-19 in NYC March 97th

Greetings from the coronavirus "hot zone". The brightest red part of New York City... that is where I live. That is where I have to go out and use the laundry mat and pick up rice at the store... It would be difficult to not go out. So far my health holds up although I am racked with anxiety. You have to remember that the thing that makes immune systems weak is stress... so you know, don't stress? You could be unknowingly carrying a virus that will kill or hospitalize many of your neighbors... but don't stress. Ok? Ok. Sure. 

Every phone conversation seems to be about the same.

 "Hey, how are you holding up?" "What did you do today?" "What are you doing tomorrow?"

--Oh you know; racked with anxiety, stir crazy, trying to keep my mind straight

--I washed my hands, I disinfected all the doorknobs, I read a little, I watched some movie...

--tomorrow?  I'll be washing my hands, disinfecting door knobs, trying to not go crazy. 

Time has no meaning. Walks help. Very much looking forward to going to concerts, theatre shows, group picnics... WORK!! But for now, I'll be here at home disinfecting things. 

Stay Safe. Wash your Hands. 

X------O

A response to Postsecret

Dear Religious jerk,
Thanks for purposefully sending this card to annoy me or whatever. Perhaps you never thought that I thought it was sweet of you to think of me during your religious holiday. Good to know the truth.

Merry Christmas
Blessed Yule
Happy Hannukah
et cetera et cetera

--A. Thiest who respects your beliefs more than you respect others.

Si esta leendo... JCA

On this veterans day I keep thinking about an ex boyfriend of mine who I've lost contact with and has such a generic name I couldn't find him if I wanted to. He was an immigrant from Nicaragua, and had a thick accent. He served in the army and was the most patriotic person I've known. I hope his life isn't being made hard by a country that wants to rescind citizenship to immigrants including US military veterans. I want him to continue to love this country more than I think is rational, I hope that ICE never threatens his mother. Today especially I'm thinking about our immigrant vets. Thank you for your service. Gracias cada dia.

Adulting

Perhaps the recklessness of youth was better than this cautious strategy I approach life with these days. The only problem is that the longer you are on this earth the more mess you make along the way. The more you see the pitfalls ahead and your knees ache thinking about falling on them again.

Orange and Lime Love.

For my 16th Birthday, my mother asked me what kind of cake I wanted. I asked for my old favorite. A cake I somewhat invented when I was three and my mother perfected. I wanted an Orange cake with Lime frosting. It is a perfect union if you are the type who enjoys citrus flavored baked goods. I must say I am still impressed with my three year old self for coming up with such a perfect combo of flavors. Of course stores don't sell orange flavored cake mix nor do they sell lime flavored frosting. Once again I had to be weird and make everything more difficult. Many children just love chocolate-chocolate or Funfetti but not me... I order off menu. My mom made me her special cake, flavored with orange and lime Jell-O. unbeknownst to either of us, my grandmother also heard my request for orange-lime cake. She also made me a cake, similar but totally different from Mom's. Grandma made my cake with orange juice and lime zest, it was all from scratch. Mom's cake was candy and Grandma's cake was a spring afternoon in the English country. I loved both of those cakes, they were perfect.  Now that I look back, I realize that my Grandmother died a month after this glorious cake. She was dying at the time from esophageal cancer and probably couldn't eat any of it. At the time I didn't know how sick she was, I didn't even notice if she ate cake or not. What an act of love it was for her to make such a beautiful cake when she couldn't share it at all. I wish I had photos from that party, I wish I had photos of the cakes and my family that day... but they are etched in my heart and I really wish I had someone to make me a cake like one of those. A cake that is made purely of love (and flour and sugar) even when it's not easy like chocolate. I wish I could make a cake like that.
Happy Birthday.

Hello old friend.

I miss Blogger. It seems like a lonely place now that the Book of Face has taken over easy communication of friends. But this was a place where I had longer and slower talks. I met new people. I travelled to Antarctica and Tanzania through my fellow Bloggers posts. I'm not quite ready to give up. So here I am just dropping in to say hello.

Soup that Butternut!

How to make Butternut Squash Soup. 

1. Cut open your squash and take out the seeds. 

2. Bake it at 400F until soft. I like to leave garlic cloves in the hollow parts of the squash

 3. heat up some stock on the stove. You can add carrots to the stock if you want to make the flavor more complex.


4. Let the squash cool enough that it doesn't burn your fingers, then add the insides to a blender (you can even do this the next day) If you had carrots in your stock or garlic in with the butternut, strain them out and add them to the blender too.

 5. Slowly add the stock and a cup of coconut milk and blend until smooth.


6. Add salt, pepper and olive oil to taste.

Enjoy!

The unseen

What this photo doesn't show you; the statue of liberty just to the right, or the humidity in the air that makes me feel like I'm walking in soup. It doesn't show the sweat dripping from my clothes or the project I just finished for work. It doesn't show my concern for loved ones back in California, or my lost hopes hovering somewhere above that horizon. But sometimes it is good to let everything fall to the sides and just enjoy one beautiful sunset over a beautiful river. Let all the things that you don't see be quiet, just for a moment.