Monthly Archives: August 2018

Roadrunner in the Mountains

I’ve been trying for seven years to photograph a roadrunner. I’ve learned some things about them, but haven’t had the pleasure of getting any photos until yesterday. On the way up to the mountains in the morning, a roadrunner was in the mood for posing.

 

Got this as he was jumping up onto the rock.

Like all creatures, he has some great camouflage going on.

I love how he showed off his tail.

Here’s a short article from Audubon: https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/greater-roadrunner

 

According to everything I’ve read, they can run about 15 mph+ but it’s no match for the coyote that can run more than twice as fast. So the cartoon show is misleading. Road runners eat beetles, worms, scorpions, rattlesnakes, and lizards, among other things, and never need to drink water.

This shot is my favorite. You can see the orange on his head in this photo.

 

We took a leisurely morning drive into the mountains to see Marcos, who makes the pottery we like. He made me some spoon rests and we drove up to get them.

As usual, Greg asked him if he had any other pieces to show us. He did. I bought them. I’m so spoiled.

 

One cool thing about Marcos’s pottery is that you can put it on the burner or in the oven. It’s beautiful too.

 

You can almost smell the lasagne can’t you?

I’m going to paint the spoons and give them as gifts.

 

 

These are some of Marco’s small spoons that I painted.

Yesterday’s trip to the mountains was delightful. Isabela loved playing in the little streams, and the sights were heavenly.

 

 

 

 

Grandma Memories are the Best

When I was three years old, my grandpa died. I don’t remember him, except for what Mom has told me about him. She says her dad was a boilermaker, had a wooden leg, and regardless of that, he danced and he played the harmonica. I know a lot about my grandma though.

Ethel and Walter on their wedding day. She was 16 years old.

When I was almost five years old my grandma came to live with us. She was supposed to take care of my brother and me, and she did, but she also did EVERYTHING else in our home. She was the best cook ever and she let me “help” her in the kitchen.

Even though Grams only got through the 8th grade in school, I learned a lot from her. She read to me before I could read myself, and then she listened to me when I was learning to read. Dick and Jane was my first reader. If you’ve ever sat with a beginning reader, you know it can be a bit painful. She had the patience of a saint.

Using flash cards, Grandma helped me learn my math facts and every week we worked on my spelling words. Her diligence meant that I got 100% every time. Grandma never tired of being my study buddy. She also taught me the finer points of cursive writing.

They don’t teach cursive anymore, do they?

 

Me, Grandma Ethel, and my brother Ronnie

For special times, she and I took the bus, a block from our house, to downtown San Diego. Sometimes we’d go to movies, or go shopping at Walker Scott. (Gone now, but not forgotten.) But we always went out to lunch at the US Grant Hotel where they served the best banana splits, as my memory serves.

I either ordered a grilled cheese with hot cocoa, or fried shrimp and hot cocoa. But it is the dessert I remember so well. I can still see the three scoops of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream scooped alongside bananas in the banana-shaped bowl, heaped with three sauces (hot fudge, marshmallow, and butterscotch) and topped with maraschino cherries, nuts and whipped cream. Oh my!

 

This is the coffee shop where Grandma and I always had lunch.

https://www.reddit.com/r/TheWayWeWere/comments/4hhdpb/coffee_shop_at_the_us_grant_hotel_1950s/

A short and sweet article (with photos) about the US Grant Hotel can be found here:

http://www.historichotelsthenandnow.com/usgrantsandiego.html

Grandma had the type of diabetes that is kept under control with diet, so she wasn’t supposed to eat banana splits. I was sworn to secrecy; not supposed to tell my mom (her daughter), but I always did. Mom never scolded either of us, but she would appeal to me to keep Grandma on the straight and narrow next time. Impossible. I loved having those banana splits.

This is the Grant Grill. It was famous for good food back then.

My grams was a Democrat because the Democrats brought in the unions, which made work life and times for people like my grandpa a whole lot better. Say what you will about unions now, back then they were saviors for the working class. I was encouraged by my grandma to vote as soon as I was legally able. She was a strong and capable woman, even though she only had an 8th grade education.

My Grandparents in the 1940s.

It is with fondness I recall when Grams held and kissed my first born son a few months before she died. She taught me so much and I remember her with big love in my heart.

I made bread today. “Thanks, Grams, for teaching me how to knead the dough and bake bread, and for all the other things you taught me.”

 

 

 

Beach Glass

 

This is a tiny sample of our collection of beach glass.

Collecting beach glass has become an obsession. When we have company, they get right into it too. Mostly we find clear and brown pieces, but we also have a few blues and two colors of green–one of them that Greg calls Coke bottle green.

Over the last 7 years, we have amassed quite a bit, and now the time seems right to make something besides my little turtles.

Isaac, the young man who made my frames shown in a previous post, framed two pieces of glass that I have been holding onto for a couple years. Yesterday I worked on one of them. I attempted to put a turtle in the first one, and a couple of fish. But you have to play “Where’s Waldo” to find them. The first window came out okay, but not exactly what I had been hoping for. I wanted the turtle and the fish to show up. I can see them, of course, but you probably can’t. Oh well. It was great fun to make.

It looks better in the window, but I had trouble getting a photo to look right. You get the drift.

My second attempt at this messy project (glue on every part of my fingers and hands and clothes) was more fun and the abstractness brought me great pleasure. It created itself pretty easily. If I were to continue to do this kind of thing I’m sure it would get to be even more fun with practice.

It’s a shame I didn’t get very good photos of the frames. They are beautiful drift wood and so appropriate for the beach glass.

I “got lost” in placing all these little pieces and finding just the right ones for each spot. This is my kind of way to while away the hours when I have nothing special to do. Retirement is the best job I’ve ever had.

 

How to Devour Life–Read a Book!

In times of uncertainty about where my life may be headed, I find solace in reading. Even when I  am certain about where I’m going, what I’m trying to accomplish, how I should proceed, I use much of my time daily sitting with my face in a book. I want to taste all that life has to offer. Books help me to do this.  Maybe my poem will give a better understanding of my love affair with bookstores and books.

 

In a Book

Blaring from the shop’s façade

A neon sign claims “OPEN”

Step in here; please search the

Shelves that cradle books for you

Revisit pain; life’s pride and purpose

Devour pages one-by-one

Eat words slowly—as you wish

Satisfy your long-held search for meaning

Books bound by fragile, wrinkled hands

Or joined by man’s devices

How little it may matter to a reader

Aching only for a sweet taste of wisdom

Lines fill with letters meant to squeeze

And ring their finest colors

Hear the soft, faint sounds of solitary breath

Collected vapors singing— in a book

Yesterday I finished reading Alice Hoffman’s The Story Sisters that came out in 2009. What took me so long? Hoffman’s writing is superb, and I am a big fan of her novels. This one did not disappoint. It’s more than a thematic story about navigating motherhood, sisterhood, and daughterhood, and I got so caught up in their lives I am sad to have finished the book.

 

That happens to me a lot. I find myself missing the characters when the story comes to an end. This is one of the things I consider magical about reading. But I don’t solely consume novels.

Alice Hoffman website: http://alicehoffman.com

I recently read A Higher Loyalty: Truth, Lies, and Leadership by the former director of the FBI, James Comey. Aside from being defensive and somewhat self-serving about how he came to his decision to disclose that the FBI was reviewing more Hillary Clinton emails 11 days before the presidential election,  it is full of details about the time Comey was a career prosecutor helping to dismantle the Gambino crime family. He deftly makes the analogy between the Mafia bosses and our current president.

What does it mean to be an ethical leader? This kind of leadership is what drives sound decisions.  Comey admits his faults and failures, and discusses painful events in his personal life (his son Collin died from strep infection at 9 days old in 1995.) as well as his professional life– his role as FBI director,  his service as U.S. attorney for the Southern District of New York, and as the U.S. deputy attorney general in the administration of President George W. Bush. His is an enlightening book that helped me understand Comey as a man, and how being an ethical leader is more important than ever.

Here’s a short bio of James Comey from the internet: https://www.biography.com/people/james-comey-051217

I’m never without a book. I usually pack one in my purse when I go out, just in case I have a minute for reading. How about you?

Here’s the advice I always gave my students once upon a time:

Never judge a book by its movie.