Labor Day. Synonymous with The End Of Summer. Even though, technically, the solstice is a half a month away and the weather is still very sunny and nice, the end has arrived.
This fact is punctuated by the fact that my daughter left today to fly to Oregon after a summer of visiting her dear ol' mum and friends from high school. It was so much fun to have her and we blended right in with the thousands of visitors on Kauai, seeing the sights and getting too much sun on the beach. She was able to do a bit of filming (see her YouTube Channel), and the dogs got much more attention than they've been used to getting (or will be getting now that two more hands have left the premises).
But now she is gone. Just me and the dogs. Sitting in the living room on a beautiful sunny day. Why is it so much harder getting motivated to do something when you are doing it alone?
Okay. All that changes tomorrow. You are all my witness to this statement. It may not be New Year's Day and the appropriate time for resolutions, but, dammit, I'm going to add purpose and resolution to my daily activities. All I WANT to get done will BE done. Yes, I can!
Right after this episode of Doctor Who.
I love waking up in the morning to blue skies and sunshine. THAT is why I live in paradise.
Today will be a day dedicated to creativity. My youngest offspring has been visiting and today (Statehood Day and hence a holiday) we will embark on a video voyage. She is on a quest to post videos every week and she needs my help with today's theme: things that make her happy. I, of course, will be featured predominantly in the video; probably third billing to all of her friends still here on the island, and my canine housemates...
I have also been having a creative "challenge" with my two daughters as we work through the year with our "create-a-month" goal. Every month a theme is set and we must all come up with something that we then share with photos. This month's theme is "of or relating to anything having to do with tea". Sometimes it has been a bit more vague, like January's theme of "no larger than 7 cubic inches and it has to have yellow in it." One daughter sewed a little pin cushion that looked like an old fashioned hat, the other made a pencil drawing of bananas. Even thought the drawing was NOT done in colored pencils, she creatively explained that, "the yellow is implied." I did a mini hanging sculpture out of telephone wires.
I'm not exactly sure what will be created today, but my month is rapidly running out. Last month (themed "must be made out of sticks or twigs") I waited until the last day to make my creation of a necklace made out of bark. No, really. There is a tree here that was used in making rope so I quickly twisted up a string to hang a pendant on. It was pretty nifty until it came apart in the shower yesterday. Not to worry, it had been captured in a photo and luckily we didn't put a lifespan requirement on any of these.
So...I'm off to create!
Yesterday, my neighbor was outside again in his underwear. Standing on his roof, he had a 20' bamboo pole with a saw on the end and was cutting coconuts out of the tree overhanging his house. "THWUMP" was what brought me to the window. That was the sound of the coconut missing my neighbor's head and hitting the roof next to him.
The day before yesterday I saw a woman who I am guessing was in her late 60's walking down the sidewalk. That in itself was not the strange part. The fact that she was dressed as a 20 year old gave me pause. Right from her bleached-blonde long locks down to her mid-baring shirt and short-shorts, she trundled on her high wedged sandals. It wasn't until I had gotten almost even with her in my truck that I could make out her age. It was such a shock to my senses that I am still having flash-backs.
That same day, I saw a woman jogging down the street but thought she was a man from behind. A week before that a goat stopped by my office and nibbled on my taro that I have planted out front. On Saturday, FedEx had the US Postal Service deliver a package to my mailbox. I checked every possible nook and cranny for the package that was tracked and reported as having been delivered. I finally found it in the mailbox. Go figure.
I am beginning to expect the unexpected. Where has my safe little world gone with comfortable assumptions? I guess the answer is that the world has changed and I haven't. Who says that underwear isn't as modest as a pair of shorts? Who makes the rules as to how people should dress or look? Why should goats be fenced? This is a free world, after all.
But where I have to draw the line is Package Delivery. If I order it to be delivered to my doorstep in a van with great big lettering on the side, I damn well expect it to be delivered that way. Not way out at the street in a box that anyone willing to risk incarceration in a Federal Penitentiary could abscond with it. Yes, I might just be talking about a new planner ordered from FranklinCovey, but certain standards must be upheld!!
Now that I have that off my chest, I must scurry home to see what new and exciting outdoor activities my neighbor has in mind.
Tonight I cooked another artichoke (yes, they were on sale at Costco). But instead of waiting the excruciating 45 minutes or so, I decided to pop it in the ol' pressure cooker, just like my mom used to do.
I borrowed the behemoth from work for this special task; and being unfamiliar with how this contraption worked, I needed to first do a little sleuthing online for instructions. Trim it up, add water, pop it in, lock the lid, turn up the heat. Check and check. Easy peasy.
Soon it was rattling away and the haunting memories of my youth came hissing back. My mom only used this contraption occasionally and I learned to respect and fear it at the same time. Anything that can turn bone into soft tissue in under an hour should be respected. Hissing and rattling, we watched in awe expecting the giant silver time-bomb to explode at any second sending shards of molten metal and beef ribs into our tender little bodies.
My mother's "STAY BACK!!" never went unheeded and served to bolster the terrifying effect of the steam engine pumping away on the stove. In fact, I stayed so far back that I continued to stay out of the kitchen for the next 20 years of my life. I didn't really need to go in there to learn anything anyway. I had three older sisters who were perfectly happy to learn all of the diabolical and life-threatening secrets of preparing a home-cooked meal.
So, tonight everything was coming along just fine. My son called me up to chat just when the timer went off. I approached the pot with caution to turn the burner off, but I was perplexed about whether I should somehow lift it off of the hot stove to stop the rattling. Instead, balancing the phone in the crook of my shoulder and a pot-holder in each hand, I managed to knock the pressure gauge thingy part way off of the steam nozzle. Steam started shooting sideways from the lid top (luckily not in my direction), and the noise was unbelievable.
"What in the world are you doing?" he shouts into the phone. "What is that awful racket?!"
"Oh, I'm just cooking in a pressure cooker," I respond more calmly than I felt.
"I didn't know you could cook tin foil and pennies in a pressure cooker," he yells over the hissing, clanging and sputtering. Frying turkey patties added to the harsh and chaotic symphony.
All ended well and the 'choke turned out perfectly. No one was injured in the preparation of this meal. The pressure cooker is going back to work tomorrow.
Last night, as I was carefully dissecting my dinner, I had a time-warp moment when I was hurled back to the past nearly 40 years: I was at the dining table with my family gathered all around. I don't know if it happened because I am nearing the anniversary of losing my dad and sister, or because of the action that I was performing with my vegetable.
I was eating an artichoke. Very carefully, I slowly and methodically peeled back each layer, scraped the underside of the leaf with my bottom teeth (same technique employed with an Oreo, by the way) claiming every soft morsel. I was "in the now" at this point, totally in sync with digesting my potassium, magnesium, vitamin C, and dietary fiber.
Then I got to the hairy center and busted out my special moves on the choke. I picked up my spoon, turned the back of the bowl up and with the tip of the spoon, very carefully and with precision, applied pressure near the edge of the fluffy core.
This was the special moment that reminded me of meals with my family. Using a skill taught to me by my patient father, at the lofty age of 10 I felt that I had perfected this method of hair-removal; steady pressure to separate the messy center from the heart, but with a light enough touch that I could see every impression left by each hair. I was so confident with my skill that I would leap from my chair, spoon in hand, asking to de-flock any vegetable that was handy.
Now, I sit in solitude contemplating my fuzzy navel, um heart. I miss those family times and am so grateful that I even had them. Holding my heart in my hand, I let the memories fill the empty chairs in my dining room.
Its official. I've become a Bag-Lady. I know the instant it happened and I'm here to confess it; to just get the whole embarrassing mess out in the open.
It happened when I was taking the trash to the dump Friday before last. It is officially called a "transfer station" because the garbage is thrown down a chute and eventually whisked away in a large truck to the landfill. Anyway, I backed my pickup next to another one, put it in park, and jumped out. Lo and behold, someone had left a pile of books and an impeccable table lamp right there on the ledge. They could have easily thrown it over but there it was in all its glory; compact fluorescent bulb still intact.
I furtively looked around to see if perhaps the other rubbish-dumper had set it there. Keeping one eye on the prize, I casually and slowly heaved my sacks over the rail and into the dark hole. Darn, another garbage patron moved over to the pile of books and gleaming lamp. I watched with horror and disappointment as he carefully picked through the interesting pile. After just moments, he stood up, walked back to his car and drove off. It was like he hadn't even seen the lamp! I quickly and non-chalantly swooped it up and placed it in my truck before climbing in, heart thumping. To the casual observer I wanted to make it look like I had just set it down on the ledge to get it out of the way while I dumped my true rubbish, then retrieved it when I was done with the hard work.
As I drove off, I still couldn't believe what I had done. I didn't even know if it worked! I have now tested it and it does, indeed, light up a room. Do I need another table lamp? That is beside the point. Maybe I'll re-gift it with a nice new lamp shade.
For now I'll just stash it in my grocery cart (aka house) with the rest of my worldly possessions. I'm a little worried though. First it was pennies off of the sidewalk. Now I'm claiming someone else's trash. What is next? Pulling recycling out of the bins? Stealing newspapers from boxes? Someone should stop me before I need an intervention and end up on a reality T.V. show called "Compulsive Collecting".
But for now I'll rub my new lamp clean and see what good luck it might bring me.
So, I'm sitting around watching a show on my computer and I see an add for an allergy medicine. They are yammering on about not drinking fruit juice with some type of medicine and the chic says, "labels are meant to be read." Really? Is that their message? Are they trying to sell a product or just point out how stupid the general public is?
I have to confess something right here and now. I am not a label reader. Yes, if I get a prescription, I do read all of the special tags that the pharmacist sticks to the vial: "Take with Food", "May cause drowsiness", "Do not use orally", "Do not climb inside this bag and zip it up", and the like. But do I read the two page diatribe that they stick in the bag regarding all of the debilitating trauma this pain-relieving medication is likely to inflict on my compromised immune system? No. I just want to pop the pills and get on with the healing. Side-effects are for suckers.
Actually, this got me thinking about some of the common things I take for granted that I consume on a daily basis. Are there side-effects from them? This is what I discovered:
Caffeine: Severe allergic reactions (rash; hives; itching; difficulty breathing; tightness in the chest; swelling of the mouth, face, lips, or tongue); diarrhea; shakiness; trouble sleeping; vomiting.
Granola: Intestinal gas and bloating. Poorly chewed oats can cause blockage of the intestine.
Orange juice: Insomnia, severe back pain, copper deficiency, jaundice infection, vitamin B12 depletion, dental cavities, an increased need for oxygen, leading to additional pressure on heart.
Tomorrow I'm skipping breakfast. I'm skipping all the way to a Snickers bar because I've looked and there are no side effects listed on the package. They are perfectly safe...
