All my life I wanted to be a writer working from home. And here I am. Of course there is not a lot of money being exchanged and some days not a lot of writing. But this is home. And here I am.
Money has always been mysterious to me. Ever since my 1st banking experiences with my mother where I was surrounded by dark wood and barred windows and grim men in frameless glasses who wore vests and never looked up as their hands flew over the pages of my mother's bank book, furiously stamping each page and wisking our cash away into the dark recesses beyond the counter.
During part of our childhood my brother and I lived in Van Nuys in the San Fernando Valley. Because of its proximity to Hollywood a lot of actors lived in the area. Andy Devine leased his swimming pool to the city and every week my dad dropped us off for a couple of hours. I was in my aspiring actress period and would spend my 2 hours standing at the chain link fence watching for "Jingles" to appear. One day he did. I expected him to look like Bill Hickok's sidekick but he looked more like a golfer. I was disappointed to say the least and almost didn't mind not being "discovered".
We have a bird's nest right outside our backdoor in the patio. The nest is small and so perfectly constructed it looks like it came from Pier One. Inside the nest are 4 pale blue speckled eggs. Every time we come and go the poor parents freak out and fly to the fence leaving the 4 blue eggs exposed. We think they're Red-Breasted nutfinches but we're not sure. They've taken to attacking us when we open the back door. We're in a quandry...
"Life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all."
One of the neat things about being part of the herd, no one has a clue what you're up to.
Annie Bones latest misbehavior is her insane barking at crows. She stands on her two back feet, points her head to the sky and goes beserk.
Okay, so I've finished writing my novel and now I'm just sitting here waiting for a publisher to call. I'll be back to blogging just as soon as I hear something.
Our grandson, Amadisto drew this wonderful wild bird and sent it in today's mail. How did he remember how much we love birds? Thank you, Booj. You are without question the best abstract expressionist of your generation!
I like things that are presented the way they are. No euphemisms or sugar coating. My mother used to have a bottle of mouth wash called "Red Mouth Wash". Not Mountain Stream or Lava Flow, just Red Mouth Wash. She used to bring it out of the bathroom, "Hah!" she'd say pointing to the label. She liked that. She would have appreciated seeing this sign in her front yard.
I had a friend, Gloria who told me she'd once been plucked from the middle of her cow pasture and abducted by a UFO.
Me: "I don't have anything to read."
Irene: "What about those books?"
Me: "No, I mean to read."
At the flea I found a bumper sticker that said, "God Save the Queens".
I had a French teacher in college who was late to class every day. She'd wander in, her hair flying in all directions, her oxford shoes untied, her sweater covered with dog hair.
Many remember Dale Evans and her horse Buttermilk. I remember Dale in Victorville where she lived, standing in the check-out line at Thrifty's Drug cradling a quart of gin and a box of Loreal hair dye. Buttermilk was no where in sight.
When I was a kid I bought a spot on a space ship for a quarter. I found the ad in the back of a comic book and it assured me I would be one of the first to launch. For years I trembled every time the phone rang. I feared it was my time to go. I've been afraid of heights ever since.
A friend and I were talking about "returning to the land". To some funky place out in the middle of no where that didn't cost a mil. A place to have animals, smell the sage. Elbow room.
I have become my mother. Some time ago I mentioned that my mom used to whiz around her house in socks sprayed with some kind of cleaner. It was her idea of housework. Now I have my very own footwear. No spraying necessary but you DO have to take different routes through the house for this method to be effective.
Annie Bones loves to dig in the sand at the beach. Yesterday she found a sand crab, two French fries, a German Sheppard and a long buried sea lion. This is the same face she wakes me up with in the morning. (make larger to fully appreciate.)
My son, Aaron McCarroll Gallegos, a longtime contributor to Sojourners magazine, has written the cover story for their April edition. If you have very keen eyes you can see his name on the cover. To read his articles click here and here.
My good friend, Joanne was a transplant from NYC. She ended up in San Francisco in a house with a little yard.
"Wow! A yard!" I exclaimed.
"What do you do with a yard?" she asked.
"It's like people who go to the woods. You get there, you see a tree and then what do you do?" she wanted to know.
Okay, while I love to watch most sports on TV I've never been able to get into basketball. I tried once as a bonding experience with one of my sons. We watched an entire game together. But I pretty much hated it, (the game, not the bonding.)
Today while I meandered through a local store I almost bumped into a woman with a cart. She backed up and in a very (sorry, Katie, but really) New York accent said:
My mother wasn't a very good cook either. But she was a creative cook.
Besides the daring display on the Bridge yesterday, what about the 2.1 million dollars the feds give the SF bridge people every year for security?
This morning at the post office I saw a sign that said, "Positive ID required." Does that mean mandatory smiles on our driver's licenses or what?
There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of mind.
I woke up dreaming: What is an itch and why does scratching help? That's it, no swirling images or lingering thoughts. The most economic of dreams.
If Annie Bones could write she'd be churning out angst-ridden poetry. We try to keep her away from bridges.
