Thoughts in a Quiet Moment

When I get really quiet, this is what I hear... The hushed whir of the furnace as I set the thermostat to 65 degrees after going downstairs first thing in the morning. The slightly sticky sound of my feet padding across the kitchen floor. The bubbling of boiling water and the glass tea kettle, cabinet doors opening and closing as I find my favorite big blue mug with the waning crescent moon on the side, the rip of the tea bag packet, Earl Grey today. The sound of Poppy purring on my lap - June only makes wuff wuff sounds, ironic since her name is June E. Purr. 

There's the sound of satin as I tie back the curtains with the strips of ribbon that have been safety-pinned on. As the night fades into gray, I hear the start of the morning chorus - first the crows calling in the neighbor's oak tree, then the Canadian geese flying back to Neary's Lagoon, and if I'm lucky I'll hear my favorite hummingbird investigating the purple and white salvia right by the sliding glass door. I always pause when I hear that particular hum and whir, looking for the flash of emerald wings or ruby-red throat. 

When I concentrate, I hear the tinnitus ringing in my ears, but under that, there's always some song, some background score. For some reason I get the theme song from  Big Bang Theory stuck in my head a lot, it morphs into " Now You're just somebody that I Used to Know" or the acapella patty cake cover of Adele's song "Send My Love"."

Sooner or later I hear my husband upstairs, going pee, it always amazes me what a waterfall he releases. Maybe I'll hear the shower, or he'll come downstairs and start his own routine - The grinder is loud but brief, a faint noise of pouring water brings the good smell of fresh coffee into the room. I listen to his dreams, more aware of his rich voice and blue eyes than the actual content, which is often long and complicated. 

At this moment, there's the scratch of the pen, my sighing breath, and an inquisitive sound from the cat who wants more attention now that my journal is taking her place on my lap. I deeply appreciate these quiet, peaceful mornings.

Blessed be.

Momentary Sensations

Something Visible in the Distance

Up close is the cat, who meowed until I scooped her onto my lap. Of course, there's my journal, my blues ceramic mug with a white moon. I feel myopic at the moment. I'm very contained in the study, lace curtains offer privacy without sacrificing the light, a poster of a redwood tree gives me more inspiration to create a more far-reaching vision. Maybe in the distance I see myself doing Reiki again, here at the house or renting a space at the acupuncture clinic up the street at the Palm center. Maybe I see myself driving to Eugene to visit Amber, passing Mount Shasta which rises from the mist. Sometimes I see my parents' death, or Chips', or mine, but I don't like to look for too long. I take off my glasses. I have been nearsighted most of my life, and enjoy the fuzzy, more gentle view of my particular bubble of the moment.

Quest for vision

Noises

Poppy's purr is an everyday noise. She purrs at the drop of a hat, constantly, it doesn't matter if it's 3:00 in the morning, she hums to herself, soothing and comforting.

I hear the trash trucks, which in my mind I refer to as the wheezing of the dinosaurs, groans of metal and sighs of the compactors, a brief acceleration between houses.

Now there's the turning of the page, the particular click of this particular pen, different from my usual sharpie which glides silently across the page. 

I hear Chips' tap tap tapping on the computer keyboard. There's no letters on it, which simply amazes me that he can touch type that well. A familiar staccato as he does whatever it is that he does on the computer, trading investments, making copious notes. In the distance, I hear a bird singing, probably in the Chinese Elm outside my window, as well as the neighbor's voice hoarse from calling his cat who, most likely, is hiding underneath my lilac bush.

Smell

We had another skunk last night do their due diligence outside on the deck. Not as bad as when the first time June got sprayed. Poor thing, she jumped in the bedroom window and instantly I knew. I put her in the hall and shut the door, it was probably 4:30 in the morning, thinking I'd deal with it later. After a few minutes I got up, took her downstairs, peruse the internet for solutions. 

I was out of hydrogen peroxide which had worked well the last time combined with baking soda. Both the little corner store and Safeway would not open till 8:00 a.m. I made a concoction of white vinegar and baking soda, locked her in the bathroom and proceeded to start wiping her with a washcloth dipped into the red foot bath bucket again and again. I was amazed at how patient she was, I hope it felt like a big tongue licking her clean. She must be so affronted, with her kitty sensibilities. 

At 8:00 in the morning, Chip went to the little store and scored a bottle of H2O2. Safeway has been out for weeks, because of the pandemic and people making their own hand sanitizer. It took almost a month for the lingering scent to finally disperse from her black and orange and white thick fur. Now she smells like my sweet cat again.

Hot

Back when I was living in Luxembourg, we got our first electric stove. "Is this hot?" I asked and put my full palm down on the burner. I must have been around 10 years old, I remember my mom just grabbing my arm and putting my hand under the cool kitchen tap water. The cold was as bad as the heat. There is a reason why now I prefer having a gas stove.

Now I struggle with hot flashes,four years to menopause. Not as bad as before, but still I turn the fan on 3, 4, 5 times a night, let the cool breeze evaporate the sweat from between my breasts, radiating off my thighs, caught in my armpits. Chip will come to bed later, put his freezing cold hands on the back of my neck, my shoulders and I get some relief. Both he and the cats want to snuggle, but I'm overwhelmed, I feel trapped like being in a too tight sleeping bag. I tried to fake myself to go back to sleep, but more often than not I just get up with the sound of the trash trucks, rationalizing I can always take a nap later, even though I rarely do.

Falling

When I was a young girl, I fell down the stairs,

On my chin, seven stitches put there, 

Then again, when I was about eight,

Fell on the ice when I was doing a skate.

Slipped when jumping at the public pool,

Four more stitches, feeling like a fool.

Once in college, on acid, feeling free,

Thought I was flying when I fell from a tree.

Fifteen years ago, broke my arm inline skating,

Still more fun than the joys of online dating.

About five years ago, sprained both ankles, 

Nothing rhymes with ankles except maybe cankles.

Then last year, my ugg boot got trapped in my skirt,

I ate a lot of concrete, sure wished it had been dirt.

Last Christmas I put too many bottles in the recycling bin,

After it got stuck, my hand was crushed and body pinned.

Falling as a child is different from being an adult,

There's so much more criticism, feeling at fault.

Then there's falling in love, some I  cherish, some  I rue,

But the hardest I've ever fallen, was falling in love with you.

New Beginnings

New Beginnings

How to be more aware when doing a chore,

Especially one that's repetitive, really a bore,

Get into that place of wonder, more like a child,

Do what needs doing, but at least with a smile.

Be a little more curious, kinda like the cat,

Be a little more investigative when it comes down to that,

Break down the old patterns, try something new,

A different way of doing things instead of feeling blue.

Doing the laundry or scrubbing the dishes,

Being more present instead of lost in my wishes,

That these endless tasks would magically go away,

When these are the details, the minutiae of my day,

All this and more is what I find,

When I remember to practice beginner's mind.

A Moment of Sweetness

Today we had a very lunch late lunch at the Mission Ranch in Carmel Valley. We sat at one of the little teak tables and played Flux, a very challenging card game where the rules change every single draw. 

Chip had the most amazing ribs while I enjoyed the goat cheese with sesame crackers. As I looked past the grazing sheep, the ocean much beyond, I noticed a gray hair gentleman who was clearly enjoying his just desserts as he spread the whipped frosting over the little bun and popped it into his mouth with so much relish. 

A moment later he glanced over and we made eye contact. I smiled deeply, grateful to have masks on, it was a sweet moment. I glanced back down at the ocean to give him his space. 

Time went on, we paid the waitress and tipped the server with the tiger's eye bracelets. As I walked past the gentleman's table, I said I noticed you've savoring your dish. He perked right up, blue eyes twinkling and had so much to share, more with Chip than I. That's when I realized that he was eating baked potato skins with bacon which he was smothering in sour cream, so what I thought was a sweet delicacy was actually a savory dish.

   

Book Review: Grandma's Got Tattoos

 

Grandma's Got Tattoos

5.0 out of 5 stars

 Love from the elders

Reviewed in the United States on May 13, 2021

Wonderful absolutely wonderful. Historically time and patterns repeat like the ancient art of story telling , sitting around the campfire or the evening fireplace with full bellies and listening to the story teller ( the elders ), it’s a love message of I believe in you and I unconditionally love you too.. The receding pandemic has highlighted these truths of connection. This delightful book should be read to not only children, teens and young adults but also middle aged adults too who want to remember dear love ones or want find a heart grandmother or grandfather, remember seek and you shall receive ... Mother Earth is plentiful.. thank you Kayla Nona