California Dreamin'

"Goin' to California with an aching in my heart."  - Led Zeppelin

In my last post, I wrote about what it was like to grow up in the military lifestyle.  It got me to thinking about HOME and what that means. It probably means something different to all of us.

When I was younger, home meant where my family was, wherever it was we were living. But I also had another sense of  home--a deeper meaning which came from my family history. A sense of place based on that history, filled with stories of family beginnings, lives lived, and stories told.  A place where we would go back to in between moves, where our extended family was, and where we felt we belonged. That place for me was always California.

California is the home state for both my parents. My dad grew up in San Jose and my mom grew up in Roseville. When my dad was in Vietnam, we lived in Roseville in a small rented home. This was so my mom could be near her parents and have some support and help with us kids. When dad came home, he was stationed at Oakland Army Base, so we moved to Walnut Creek, a small town closer to Oakland.

Then we got sent to Maryland, and my brother and I were NOT happy about it! We were quite content with our life in California. Well, as it turns out, Maryland was a great place to live. But as much as I enjoyed it there, I still pined for California. In all the places we lived after that, I never lost my longing for HOME. I knew someday I would get back there.

All the years we moved around, we would always make trips back to visit my relatives, usually in the summer. We loved spending time with my grandparents and my cousins, and we loved the sunshine. It was always hot in California! I think most of all though, it was the connection to something consistent. I was always very sad to leave.

My longing for California intensified when we moved to Ft. Lewis, WA. Let me tell you, for a girl who loves the sun, the constant rain and darkness up in Washington just put me into a depression. Every year, I tried to scheme a way to get to California. Couldn't I go live with my grandparents? How about my cousins? Please? No, my parents did not go for these ideas.

When I was in 9th grade, my best friend, Jean, and I devised a brilliant scheme that we called "Operation C." The C of course stood for California. Our plan was to save all our money, every last penny, and in the summer, we would hop on a bus and take a trip down there all by ourselves. We didn't know exactly what we would do once we go there, but we were pretty certain it would involve rock music, Birkenstocks and San Francisco.

We saved all our allowance and babysitting money. We even begged small change from our friends, saying we  forgot our lunch money. Shameful, I know! We put all this money in a shoebox, and by June we had $300. Not bad for piddly change, I'd say.

Well, then of course we realized the futility of our scheme. What would the two of us really do out in California? Where would we stay? Was $300 enough? We might be in danger and we wouldn't want to worry our parents.... So much for our California dreams. Instead, we split the money and went to the mall.

All through high school, I continued to fantasize about living in California.  Then it became obvious to me how I would finally get there.  It was simple really. All I had to do was choose a California college.  So, in the fall of '82, my dad drove me down to Sacramento to begin my new life--the one I had dreamed of for so many years.

I never looked back.

I  love living here as much as I knew I would. Even with all its financial and political problems, I still love it. It is a beautiful state with interesting people and a laid-back, free-spirited culture that I enjoy. It is HOME and I don't see myself ever leaving.

What does home mean to you?

"Someone told me there's a girl out there, with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair." - Led Zeppelin

I was a brat

It's Veterans Day. While I am grateful to all service men and women who have made sacrifices for us and our great country, the person I think of the most is my own father.

My Handsome Dad

You see, my dad was a career Army man, so I grew up immersed in the world of soldiers and all things military.  Base housing, military schools,  the PX (Post Exchange), the Commissary (grocery store), MPs (Military Police), military IDs, moving every 1-3 years, making friends and leaving them, standing and listening to the Star Spangled Banner at the theater before the feature movie, epic 4th of July celebrations, security checkpoints to get on base, and seeing my dad in uniform almost every day of the week.

Growing up military was a mixed blessing. But overall it was pretty awesome.

My brother and I both agree on that. We didn't know any other way of life. As military "brats" we got to do and see a lot of things that most children never get to. We lived in many different parts of the country and even in Europe. I was born in Frankfurt, Germany and we lived there for several years, so I actually have some memories of it. I remember our apartment building and I remember my Oma,  a lovely German grandmother who would babysit us and help my mom when she needed it. We also lived in Italy and I remember going to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa and Venice. In the states we were stationed in California, Virginia, Georgia, Maryland, Kansas, and Washington.

My favorite place we ever lived was Ft. Meade, Maryland. Although when we first stepped off the plane and felt the extreme humidity in the air, I wasn't so sure I would like it! We were coming from California and I had never felt that feeling before.  Humid summers aside, it was a great place to live with so much to see and do. Historical towns, battlefields, museums, and of course Washington D.C. was right next door. We'd go there almost every weekend in the summer and there was always something new to see.

Friendships are made easily and quickly in the military. Everyone is in the same boat--new place, new people. Most folks were friendly and eager to make the new place their home. However, that was also one of the draw-backs. We made good friends, but then everyone moved away. We got used to leaving people behind, but it was still difficult.  I so wanted to stay with my friends forever and grow up with them. But instead, we had to pack up and move to a new home and go to a new school.

My least favorite place was Ft. Lewis, WA because they had no schools on base, so my brother and I had to go to a civilian school.  That was difficult because the civilian kids had grown up together and weren't eager to let new people into their groups.  All us military kids kind of stuck together. It took a long time to make new friends and feel like we belonged.

Our base housing at Ft. Lewis.

That was the last place we were stationed.  My dad retired and my parents bought a house and remained in Tacoma for awhile.  Now they are happily settled in Oregon. After high school, I left for college in California and am still here. My brother  joined the Marines and then the Army (just like Dad), but left the military after the first Iraq war. Thankfully, he did not have to fight in that war.  He also lives in California, not far from me. 

Though mom and dad are settled, they still have a strong love for travel and are lucky enough to do so often.   Me, not so much. I guess I  had my fill, and now I prefer to stay in one place. 

The military life shaped and formed us all in many ways. There was a camaraderie amongst us that I have not experienced since.  Military friends are always your friends. My parents have stayed in touch with many of their old friends, and they have had several reunions. Since Facebook came on the scene, I have found a couple of my childhood buddies and it has been really fun to catch up with them.

I feel lucky to have grown up the way I did. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for giving us a unique and wonderful childhood.

Thank you to all those who are serving our country.  Your way of life allows us to have our way of life. You are much appreciated.

This song is for all those old friends....

Random Thoughts

I've had a busy and stressful week and my brain is pretty fried. This is what I'm thinking in my head today....

1. I really like the foamy soap that comes in a pump. WAY better than the liquid soap. That stuff tends to pool under the dispenser and make a gloppy, soapy mess on the counter. The foam just goes right where you want it and is so much easier to use. Two thumbs up!

2. I know the organizing "experts" say you should dispose of all your junk mail the minute you bring it into the house from your mailbox. But what about recycling? I am obsessed with recycling. And you can't just toss most of that junk mail in your paper recycling bin for a few reasons. First, most of those envelopes have plastic windows and you can't recycle paper with plastic. Second, some of that mail has private information you don't want to make available to those identity thieves that are rifling through all your trash. So, you really do have to OPEN the damn junk mail to deal with these sticky situations. You have to rip apart the envelope to get the plastic off, and then throw the paper parts in the recycling bin. Then you have to separate out the personal information so you can put that in the shredder. Oh! And you can't just put an envelope with plastic windows straight into your shredder for future recycling, because, again, there is the plastic issue.

So see? All you organizational "experts" are just wrong on this one. It's much more complicated than that.

3. Why am I getting mail from the local funeral home? I'm staring to get concerned.

4. Send us your tips!  Why do women's magazines pay someone money to give us stupid advice like, "Have your kids set out their backpacks the night before, so they won't have to rush in the morning." Really? Someone got paid $100 for this tip?

5. I stayed in my bathrobe today until 2:30 p.m.

It's just emotion taking me over

Last weekend, I went to see a great movie called 50/50. I loved it, but I went through  a whole package of pocket-sized tissue.   I know I wasn't the only person in the theater who was crying, but I think I was the only person you could actually HEAR crying. Yes, embarrassing.

This movie tells the story of a young guy who finds out he has cancer and everything he goes through after his diagnoses. It's an exploration of not only what the medical experience is like, but also the social and psychological experiences. We watch what this young man goes through during his cancer treatment--some of it is funny, some serious, some sad. 

I don't know WHY I even go see movies like this because I know I will be transformed into a blubbering fool. Then my eyes get all puffy and my nose gets all stuffy. When I leave the theater,  I have to hold my head down in order not to catch anyone's eye, lest they think something horrible has just happened to me or wonder if I am psychotic and dangerous. 

Well, I admit it's not just these kinds of movies that make me cry. It's commercials and t.v. shows and well, anything with ANY amount of emotion. Stories about animals, children, death, and love especially. I guess that covers most everything. I take it on. Within myself. I absorb it and FEEL it as if I whatever is happening, is happening to me.

This is why I could never become a therapist.

I've been this way my whole life.  When I was little and the family would gather to watch t.v., the theme song for Lassie would start me to weeping.  The minute the song came on, I'd tear up in anticipation of the drama and emotion that was ABOUT to happen.  I'd see Lassie running and I'd start sobbing.

My family said I was "too emotional."  I knew it was upsetting to them when I'd give over to my emotions, but I didn't know how to control them.  I felt bad for being this way.  Like something was wrong with me.

My mom said I was very easy to discipline because all she had to do was give me a disapproving look, and I'd start to cry.

It took a long time to accept this part of myself, but now as an adult, I realize it is not bad or good  to have strong feelings. It's just who I am. We are all different and that's a good thing.  I am a sensitive woman with strong emotions.

But, I've also had to learn how to control those emotions and not let them get the best of me.

I've recently learned that sensitivity and strong feelings of empathy such as mine, are common traits in people who gravitate towards the arts. Which makes total sense. You must strongly identify with others and the world around you to be able to create. 

Scientists are actually studying empathy and people who are "extreme empaths" to determine what makes them so. Turns out it's all about DNA, neurons and brain activity, and the area of the brain that controls this behavior    The study of this area of the brain helps us to understand why some people have more compassion and empathy than others. It also helps to explain why some people have LESS and how this can lead to violent and criminal behavior.

So, I learned that I am unlikely to become a serial killer. This is good information.

Yes, it's tough being a woman of strong emotions. But honestly, now that I'm comfortable in my own skin, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Do you wear your heart on your sleeve?

They paved paradise...

...and put up a parking lot.  One of my favorite songs by Joni Mitchell. What a great excuse I have to feature that video today!

But today they did the opposite.

Today is Park(ing) Day, a day for artists across the world to transform parking spaces into public art.  The movement was started in 2005 in San Francisco, when staff from a local art and design studio decided to create a temporary park within the space of a few parking spaces downtown.  The idea has since grown into an international event.

The theme this year was interactive art based on the question, "How do you create a design that responds to the needs of the people?" The artists used recycled materials of all types--cardboard, paper cups, bicycle parts, tree branches, even old record albums.  Many of the displays reflected the purpose of the stores they were put in front of. Paper coffee cups were used in front of a coffee shop, cardboard dress forms in front of a clothing store, and the record albums in front of the music store.  We could walk through the displays, touch them and even sit on the "furniture" that was surprisingly sturdy.

I read about it in our local newspaper and thought it would be fun to go check it out. My son went with me and we really enjoyed it.  Here are some photos so you can experience it too.

And how!!!

By Cracky! I've won another blogger award!

I had to use that expression because it's been in my brain ALL week.  I posted a recipe on The Big Green Bowl for  these delicious By Cracky Bars, and ever since, I can't get that saying out of my mind. Ack!

Speaking of sayings, my friend Laura from Catharsis was  getting all riled up about the saying "And how!"  It really distresses her and she is ready to cause some serious bodily harm to the next person who says it or writes it.  I know, that would be ME. Yes, I'm watching my back and looking over my shoulder as I type this. But for the sake of humor (and a great segue from "By Cracky") I took the risk. I think she likes me enough not to retaliate.  After all, she gave me this award.

Check out what Laura has to say about "And how!" and many other topics on her blog Catharsis.  Laura is a funny, clever and witty writer who has a lot to say about pretty much everything. And she will tell it like it is, holding nothing back.  I always enjoy her blog and I know you will too.

So the rules of this award are to share a few things (seven to be exact) about yourself, and then to pass the award along to ten other blogs.

Some things about me:

1) I am very flexible. Like a rubber band. Although with age, it's getting a little harder to do the splits. Ok,  I can't do it at all anymore.

2) I can't stand Salmon Patties and I'm sure my mother made them when I was younger, just to torture me. Oh, but Salmon is my favorite fish.  I know ???

3) My favorite movie is The Wizard of Oz and my favorite performer of all time is Judy Garland. I used to think I was her reincarnation because I can sing and dance and wanted to be in the movies just like her.

4) I am deeply disturbed by the existence of cock roaches.

5) I am an expert dishwasher loader. Just when you think not one more dish can fit in, I will reorganize the whole thing and find room for six more plates, 10 glasses and 50 pieces of silverware.

6) My favorite color is purple. I know, that's not very interesting.

7) I have six tattoos and a pierced nose. And how!


Passing the Torch to.....

Best of Fates

Cranky Old Man

Fishing from the Shore

IRENE

Mamawolfe

Mommy Bags 
Monica's Tangled Web

Presence of Magic

Reading (and chickens)
Scribbleflowers

Oh What a Night!

It's a Friday night in 1975.  I'm in 6th grade and my friends and I are getting ready for a fun night at the roller rink. Choosing our outfits, putting on some perfume, sneaking a little eyeshadow.... wondering what boys will be there tonight and which songs they will play. 

When it's time to leave, we all pile in my dad's car with my brother and his friends. Us younger  girls trying to act cool in front of the older guys.  No seat belts were required back then so we squished in, all six of us in a small sedan. Young bodies touching, boys and girls, thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

The excitement builds during the half hour drive out of town. We giggle and fidget in anticipation. Dreams and fantasies of what might happen tonight....what adventures await.

We finally arrive! We all scramble out of the car, straighten our clothes, and rush inside, hearts racing.  We have to pay and rent our skates, and oh it took so long to get those skates on.  Hurry so we can get out there! The loud music beckons us onto the skate floor. 

Clap for the Wolfman is playing as we enter the rink, going with the flow of traffic, picking up speed, around and around the wooden oval shaped floor.  The sound of metal wheels on wood synchronizes with the beat of the music. My friends and I hold hands in a chain, trying not to break apart as we round the corners.

Then I see him....and my heart flies up in my chest.  It's him, Mark Northridge, the love of my young girl life. My brother's best friend's brother. Our families are friends. I've had my heart set on him since the moment I first saw him  in the elementary school hallway. His shoulder length blonde hair that hung over one eye, his flashing blue eyes and his lopsided grin stole my heart almost immediately. 

I'd had a crush on him for years. We were friends but did he feel more for me than that? He was so quiet and shy, I couldn't be sure of anything.  He was always kind to me and seemed to enjoy my company.... I always held out hope.

I catch his eye and he shyly waves. I smile and I'm sure I add a little more flair and style to my skating form as I continue around the rink.  Eric Clapton is singing  "I shot the sheriff...." as my friends and I talk and giggle as we skate. My eyes never lose sight of Mark.

The night flows on.  Races, games and couples skate have come and gone as the DJ has kept us entertained.  We take a few soda and snack breaks, sitting in the dark watching the other skaters and averting our eyes to the older teenage couples making out in dark corners.

It's almost time to go and my heart is feeling heavy as my dream of skating the couples dance with Mark did not come to pass.

Then it's the last song of the night and it's girls' choice. Girls' choice?  My heart starts racing as I wonder, "Should I ask him? What if he says 'No?' Do I possibly have the nerve?"  And then I hear Frankie Vallie crooning "Oh what a night... late December back in '63..." and it's my most favorite song in the whole world and I feel my body get up off the bench, and I am floating over to Mark where he is sitting, and I hear myself asking him if he would like to skate with me, and then I hear him say "Yes" and we are on the skating floor and then.....he smiles at me and takes my hand in his.....and it's not just a friendly hand holding...he slowly and deliberately  intertwines his fingers with mine!    And I swear my little heart is going to pop right out of my chest at that very moment.  I can hardly breathe as we skate slowly together, hand-in-hand. And I never want that song to end.

To this day, whenever I hear any of those songs from that long ago year of Friday nights at the roller rink, all those pre-teen memories and feelings come flooding back and I am transported back in time -- to a time of innocence and coming of age.  And that song by The Four Seasons will always hold a special place in my heart.  A reminder of  that one magical evening when I was Mark's special girl for three minutes at the skating rink. "I remember, what a night..."

Is there a special night in your memory?

Zen and the Art of Laundry

Lace and Laundry by Carol Apple

So I've been wanting to blog about laundry.

I kept putting it off because well, laundry might not be as thrilling to you as it is to me. I wasn't sure I could express my feelings properly. The ideas weren't flowing.

Then I saw this drawing on my friend Carol's Face Book page, and it totally inspired me.  It embodies everything I feel and want to say about hanging clothes on the line. The wistful look on the girl's face, the beautiful sky and the clothes swaying in the breeze....

It's perfect.  I love this drawing. I love Carol's art.  I want to be the girls in her drawings. There is something about them....

Carol is a writer who "doodles." At least that is what she calls it. But so many
of us have told her this is real ART, that I think she finally got the message. She recently launched her blog Scribbleflowers, where she shows us some of her drawings and chit chats about art, in layman's terms. She brings art to a level we can all understand and maybe believe we can do it too. Or at least try our hand at it and enjoy the process. I hope you will take a minute to go visit her over at Scribbleflowers when you are done here!

So back to laundry. I don't have anything profound to say about it really. The actually process of washing--loading the dirty clothes into the hamper, filling the washer with water and soap, putting the clothes in...it's all very mundane. But somehow satisfying. It's the only chore that sort of does itself while you can go do something else. All you have to do is start it up. Then the washer does the rest. Aren't we lucky we no longer have to use one of THESE?

Okay you say, but you still have to dry and fold. Yea, I know. But if you have a dryer, that's still a machine doing the work for you. And all that folding can be done by those other people who live in your house and need more chores to do.

Back to my original thought...... the clothesline! Do you have one? I know, this sounds like work and we were just talking about letting machines do all the work. But this is a chore I never mind doing. Hanging your wash on the line takes laundry to a whole new level. Instead of a chore, it becomes an act of meditation.

There is something about taking my basket of laundry outside, being in the fresh air, and one by one, pinning each article of clothing up on the line. Clothespins are  just so old fashioned, and I love that. They are so simple and they do the job just the way they are meant to. If they break, you just grab another. No need to send it to a repair shop.

Now, I don't dry all my clothes on the line. In fact, the only ones I do are things that won't wrinkle or get so stiff that you can't wear them. Most of my sons' clothes fall into this category. And bed sheets. Those are my favorite to hang on the line. They dry very quickly, and you just can't beat the wonderful scent of sun and fresh air that lingers on them when you bring them inside. I don't know how sunshine has a scent, but it does.

And if that isn't incentive enough, for those of you who are "green," this is the ultimate way to be good to the environment. Only wind and solar energy required. Good for the environment and good for your pocketbook. It's a win/win situation.

That's all I have to say about laundry. Oh, except if you are going to hang your clothes on the line, make sure it isn't going to rain that day. I have forgotten this rule on several occasions.

The song I leave you with has nothing to do with laundry. I know the obvious song would be "Dirty Laundry" by Don Henley, but honestly, I can't stand that song. And this one by the totally awesome band, The Hollies is actually the song that has been in my head while writing this. Things are not always logical up there. In fact, they rarely are. "The Air That I Breathe" makes perfect sense to me...