During Cesar Chavez' first grape boycott my mother planted a grape vine in the back yard under the walnut tree by the clothesline. She forbade store bought grapes in her home. Her grapes, shaded by walnut leaves and drying clothes, never got enough sun and were the size of raisins. No one really ate them except the crows who swooped out of the brittle tree branches and scooped them up.
Some years ago we took our first and only cruise. We were so excited. We bought new wardrobes. We spent money we didn't have. Packing was a problem. We had way too much stuff. So, we bought a bunch of those plastic bags where you vacuum the air out and can virtually take everything you own.
Really, this blog is NOT all about me. I really care about your jelly bean preferences for example.
The military is finding it harder and harder to recruit new soldiers.
Today is the anniversary of my mother's birth. She was a painter, a writer, a crafter and a seeker. While most of her contemporaries found happiness in a good casserole dish, my mom needed more and spent her life trying to find it.
Fortunately my son Aaron doesn't own one of these shirts. He's responsible for my new title bar. Pretty spiffy, huh? Thanks, Aaron . Check him out at: http://almas-soulfood.blogspot.com/
It's time for the annual Stella Awards. Named for an 81 year old woman from New Mexico who sued and won a settlement from McDonalds in 1992 because their hot coffee burned her leg.
I've been thinking, maybe it's time to do a little Spring cleaning.
Irene and a friend are building a very small deck at the rear of our house. Kind of a 3 board thing. The building and figuring a way not to have to pay the government the rest of our social security checks are really the only sure things around here.
Today I am invincible. I've been blessed by a Tiki god that came from out of the blue.
Irene and I are scavengers. We pick things up from the side of the road and bring them home. It's a speculative thing.
For such a disjointed family it seemed as if the six of us piled into our Hudson frequently and went for rides. The four kids were stuffed into the backseat, carsick and struggling not to let any sibling body part touch us. At every turn in the road my mother shouted, "Look at the Lupine!" We'd roll our eyes, look out at the dizzying blur of purple flowers and go back to our own private wars.
March 21, 2000
March 21, 2008. My son, Sol and his two kids. Top photo the day Sierra was born and 5 year old Tyler. Today, CC's 8th birthday, (a little harder to hold with one arm) and 13 year old Tyler. Desert Rats through and through. (Sol, you haven't aged a bit!)
Horse corral, Zing Rd., Mojave Desert
Full moon, Hwy 138, heading west 6:00 AM
Joshua tree, Hwy 138
Pilot to co-pilot...
Sun is just coming over Shadow Mountain. Pre-dawn, cold, not a hint of wind. Pure bliss.
My granddaughter, CC will be 8 years old tomorrow, March 21st! Here she is, swimming with the dolphins in Tahiti!
My son, Sol will be 40 something years old on Saturday, March 22nd. Here he is with his clipboard, brilliantly running the family business.
CC and Sol relaxing in some exotic locale. Happy Birthday, you guys! Watch for us, we're coming around the bend!
One of the worst jobs I ever had was as receptionist for a colonel at George Air Force Base in the Mojave Desert. I could barely type so I kept a large purse on the floor near the typewriter where I furtively dumped all my ruined forms. I took them home at night, to my ranch out in the desert where I had no electricity, running water or phone.
We watched a DVD movie the other day with subtitles. Every time music played, the subtitle described the music being heard.
I used to have a poster hanging in my house that said, "War is not healthy for kids and other living things." This takes the idea one step further.
In the early 70s I was a "welfare worker" in the Mojave Desert. Charles Manson's family lived nearby at an isolated ranch. Many of them lingered after his arrest.
He was rumored to have many children with many women. At least once a month this straggly devoted group came into our office to take care of business. Many of them were my "clients".
"The Manson Family is here" my co-worker would say, happy they were "mine" and not "hers". The lobby would be filled with tattered blond toddlers and their hippy moms. I always scurried out.
It was never considered good etiquette to keep the Manson Family waiting.
When I was a kid I thought adults were fairly insane. If I asked how to spell a word, they'd inevitably say, "Look it up". And I'd think, "if I knew how to spell it I would look it up and if I could look it up I wouldn't need to ask how to spell it". I spent a lot of my youth in standoffs.
Our neighbors and their friends, Josiah, Eric, Peter and Alex along with dog, Gus are headed south.
They've procured a 35 foot old school bus and they're headed to San Juanico, Mexico for Spring Break.
They are so excited as they load up they're practically dancing in our pre-dawn street.
Gus doesn't know it yet but he's only going as far as Watsonville.
They're off! San Juanico is 1000 miles below our border. The last 70 miles is dirt, rock, tidal flats and sheer cliffs, not recommended for autos. The guide book doesn't mention old school buses from Oregon or 20 year old university students with nothing but adventure on their minds.
When I was a kid I visited back and forth between parents. My wardrobe was limited but I owned a white summer dress with a green border of zoo animals around the hem. I loved this dress and wore it on special occasions.
There's just something about the coming of Spring that makes me want to dance!
I have a new cell phone. Irene gives me the user guide.
In the Spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt - Margaret Atwood
