What will they say about me?

Summer 2010.
I like this picture of me, at the beach, my husband up and about,  he and I taking turns taking pictures of my grandchild and her friend frolicking in the water, on the trip back to the airport in Eureka.
I'm the doting wife in this shot, the loving grandmother, forever the educator.  Right after this visit, I started the cooking blog, a continuation of classes for my grandchild, a reminder that cooking and family go together. (I doubt she frequents the blog, but it is there for her!)

My son Brian used to call me on week nights, when he was preparing a meal and needed substitutes, or a way to enhance a dish.  We'd talk for a second or so. When my husband asked about the call, I'd say:
Brian is cooking.
What's new with him?
He's making spaghetti sauce and has no tomatoes.
What else?
Nothing else.
What did you tell him?
Saute' any vegetables he has with lots of garlic and peperoncino, drop a tablespoon of vinegar and serve over any pasta he has.

I don't remember ever calling my mother, or my aunt, to ask about any dish I was preparing. I cook by improvising, and that's something that is not easy to teach.
All through my life, I never thought of myself as a good cook until I began entertaining here in my new home, after retiring, and having people ask about my techniques.

I'd hate it if my obituary said anything about my cooking!
I love to write. But, I'm not a writer for hire. So, that too, will not end up in my obituary.

People who write obituaries are in a hurry, constrained by time and cost, (yes, each word costs money), and most of all by grief. Grief entombs us.

What do I want to be remembered for?
I better ask my friends and line up the answers I like.

Sunset after rain.

Posing in my colorful robes

solemn and imperial

illuminating yesterday's rain- smeared windows

I sit in judgement.

I am already  

greeting tomorrow.

Weather.

On stormy nights

back in my cave,

I swear I should  sue the contractor

who installed the wrong windows for this weather.

 At dawn

I pick up my non-fat-latte-double espresso

at the only drive-through

not affected by the power outage

of last night's storm,

brightly resurrected and

happy to be behind the wheel again. 

When cats rule the house.

Newkie, the cat that belonged to my son Brian, and has been living with me for the last six months, is  currently cuddled on my lap and I'm forced to type with one hand. She can jump over the laptop and over my entire body whenever she wants to, but she crouches under my left elbow and begins to purr, and I can't possibly ask her to go somewhere else to lie down.

She waits for me at the door, and guides me to what needs to be done.

In the morning, she stands by my bed and whines until I get up, then, she waits for me until I finish in the  bathroom before guiding me to her food bowl and other needs.
She knows where her hair brush is kept. During a nap, she may wake up with a strong desire, jump down from her perch, and stretches until I start brushing her. If I ignore her, she pulls the brush out and gums it, then stretches and rolls and whines, all the while running into the brush and looking at me to get up and do my part.

Now, if only I could teach her to grab the brush and bring it to me in bed.






  

The grit of time.

Reality is what you can 

manipulate,

green space, stick figures

something

of  time and  space

that puts you

in your own movie.

This scene,

Napoleon's Tomb among gardens of

tobacco plants with whores' purses,

stands alone.

Hundreds of people come and go in the Rotunda, speaking Universal Nonsense

crunching gravel to and fro.

This ordinary grit

their only  presence

on today's 

marbled floors.

Can you save a heart?

Can you save a heart
in a jar?


Can you keep it beating
till dawn?

A baker's dozen...

I wish that my eyes and my whole being would be focused on this view from the time I wake, till I fall asleep. Lately, though, I'm irritated at so many tiny things. Let me count the ways:

1. When I sign-up to follow someone new on Blogger, an old picture of me and an old email pop up and I can't change either.

2. Google sign-in protocol keeps changing, and I have to search high and low to find my OLD settings.

3. Facebook is threatening to change things up and wants my help.

4. A POUND of coffee is now sold in a 12 oz package and costs more.

5. My laptop is new and should behave accordingly; but it gets tired and shuts down when I least expect it.

6. My children only call me when it pleases them. I can never reach them directly anymore.

7. My husband remembers to tell me about messages whenever he remembers, not as soon as a message is delivered.
9. How is that there are more and more cleaning mops and none of them do it all?
10. My old pictures in my picture documents cannot be accessed any more, for some reason.
11. The new Windows 7 word processing program is driving me to drink.
12. How can it be that more and more space in supermarkets is dedicated to crappy food?
13. If you ask for lox at Safeway in Coos Bay (the best in these parts) nobody knows what you are talking about, yet fresh salmon is on the menu everywhere.