Occupy The Hilton

I must confess that I have a strong streak of justice running through me coupled with some liberal leanings and a twist of rebellion. I guess I’m just wired that way and at times I am strangely compelled to engage in highly compassionate acts. I am also compelled to “give it to the man” from time to time, so when these pastimes collide,  I reach a sort of nirvana that can stay with me for weeks.

Keeping this in mind, I know it will be of no surprise to you that I have recently joined the occupy movement. Well not actually the occupy movement per se… frankly all those occupyists scare me a bit but they do inspire me. I have taken it upon myself to engage in my own impromptu occupation.

Remember those 1% people, those horrible rich people; the ones who are responsible for all the evil in the world?  Those nameless, faceless masses of corporate conglomeration…

I think they need to be sent a lesson that we the 99% are not taking it anymore and that we are fighting back until the playing field is more level.  And we, well, I will be occupying a symbol of their opulence and greed… and what better place to occupy that than the penthouse suite of the Hilton?

I know you are thinking this plan may be a wee bit on the radical side. I agree but I cannot see any other way to bring attention to my, our cause.  I feel that I could become an inspiration to all the overworked and overlooked huddled masses yearning to breathe free. (Isn’t America great!)

I will have to make the sacrifice and live among those nasty one percenters and I will do so until all my comrades on the street, all the neglected, the poor, the tired and rejected and the rest of humanity (plus some select cats) get to live in the same luxury as we Hilton dwellers.

I will point out at this point that I am willing to make further sacrifices and I am an easy sell-out and not above blatant bribery. Any nicer hotel in the Portland area will do. (imagine the great publicity this hotel would get…hint, hint)

I’m planning on staging a sort of John Lennonish bed-in with signs and reporters minus the Ono (sorry Yoko)  and Amsterdam (sorry me) to protest all the unfairness in the world. I will sing songs of love and peace and do it all in my P.J’s and take naps on the side. (I hear the beds are super comfy)

Of course it won’t be easy. I will have to live off room service and will have to find somewhere to go each day while my suite is being cleaned.  I suppose I will have to use the spa and the pool and watch some pay per view movies…I am prepared for these eventual sacrifices..very prepared.

My list of demands are as follows:

• 24 hour room service
• Maid service with nightly tuck down and Andes mints on my pillow.
• A nice white terry plush robe.
• Ritzy rich people stuff from the gift shop
• Giant fruit baskets and exotic root beers from all over he world
• A wireless connection
• A superb view of the city
• Jacuzzi
• Free coffee and baby soaps
• Decedent chocolate desserts
• Complementary newspapers
• Free domestic calls
• Laundry service
• And most importantly; a breakfast buffet with a yummy omelet station……No I mean equality for all and omelets too!

Unlike other protests and protestors, there will be no drum circle, or mobs of angry people blocking the street. There will be a minimum of noise, perhaps some light jazz or classical music playing in the background. There will be no damage inflicted anywhere or mess to clean up; just a few damp towels, empty bottles of bubble bath and the traces of many chocloate desserts left behind.

I do not think I am being unreasonable here. It will be a win-win situation for us all.

Frankly and honestly…At this point I don’t care if it’s a Motel 6 with a private bath and a vending machine outside the door.  What really matters is the principle of the thing.

I need a vacation..I mean, we the people need a vaction and equality too and all that good stuff.

And so this very weekend I will showing up at the Hilton, bags in hand, ready for my protest.  You may join my protest..just show up at the nicest hotel in town with your demands..tell them Strawberryindigo sent you and have your visa card ready…

HAPPY PROTESTING!!!

Strawberryindigo.

The New Face of Friskies

MARIO

I don’t have a lot going on right now so I have become my cat’s agent.  It’s not what you think, I am not crazy or anything…it was his idea.  He’s a very ambitious cat, a real go getter. It’s no wonder he’s famous here locally.    And I guess it’s no wonder that his ambitions are leading him to bigger and better things.

He has spoken to me of his plans, well meowed them to me on many occasions, usually late at night after too much cat nip. He has dreams, that’s for sure but who doesn’t?  I want to be a writer someday.  My cat wants to be a star of stage and screen.   I’m sure you have hopes and dreams too, so I know you understand that we sensitive artist types need to follow our dreams and thus I have not only encouraged him, I have become his agent.

A big part of this important and highly coveted job is the ability to think outside of the box, come up with excellent ideas and have the where-with-all to follow through. I pride myself on my common sense and intellect which I think makes me the perfect sort to promote an animal act.

9 Lives has Morris the cat who the company touts as the most famous cat in the world, that may be true for now but I think that Morris is all washed up, he’s out of date, I mean how old can a cat get?  And those meow mix cats, all that constant mewing….cat’s don’t really do that.

What we need is a more realistic, more with-it , a now kind of cat. A cat for today. A spokescat that truly speaks to today’s generation.

That’s where Mario comes in. He and I both agree that he would be the purrfect choice to be the “The New Face of Friskies”

Is this the New Face of Friskies?

I know many of you have already been introduced to Mario, I also know a great many of you have joined his fan club and some of you have even attended a few of his lectures. So I don’t need to remind you of his magnetic presence, engaging personality, sharp wit and striking good looks.  I mean who would be better for this?

 ”He certainly LOVES his Friskies and he eats quite a lot of it. That is why is he has a shiny and luxurious coat and such beautiful bright eyes.”

Now it’s up to me to convince The Friskies Corporation.

Realistically, I don’t see much of a problem there. That is more than apparent.  Once the executives at Friskies meet with Mario they will be putty in his paws.  He will be writing his own check and you can take that to the bank.  He is bound for greatness and really there’s nothing stopping him….

I Love Friskies!

…and this is only the beginning. First it will be commercials, then guest spots on popular TV shows, then maybe a little off Broadway and a few feature films and before you know it, he’ll be winning Oscars and I’ll be sitting at home like a bump on a log watching it all on the small screen and eating a frozen dinner all by myself while he lives the good life in Hollywood.

We’ve had long talks about this very thing. I am afraid the bright lights of “The Big City” will lure him away and change him forever. Maybe he’ll lose himself in a dark downward spiral of drugs and corruption.  Maybe he’ll run with a fast crowd who’ll only want him for his fame and lifetime supply of Friskies (Seafood Sensations flavor, please)

He assures me this won’t happen and he does seem to have a good head on his shoulders, he is the smartest one in the house.  I guess I can’t hold him back. I will miss the little guy but I know that someone who is that special cannot be kept back home on the farm….

…and so when I’m at home in a tattered old bathrobe watching The Oscars I’ll be cheering him on and I know you will too…he’s that kind of cat.

Strawberryindigo.

Suggested Links and Related Articles:

Mario

•  Mario The Magnificent

•  Morris website

•  Creepy meow mix cats

•Friskies Launches iPad Game That Lets Humans Play Against Cats (shoppingblog.com)

Sweet Daydreams

 I have always sought to create another world.  A fantastic place of harmony and enchantment where dreams come alive.

Time stands still in the multiverse of my imagination.  Colors deepen and take on a vivid hue.  All is one and right and the atmosphere is steeped in loving peace and understanding. A wonderous a place comes into view.  I have been here before and every time I visit it becomes more beautiful.

It is a place where

 vines of crimson and gold grow over ancient  walls.  Ruins of stone spires shoot crazily out of a dense forest of deep green.   The sun is bright and warm and has just begun to fill the sky.  I take in a deep breath of the cool breeze coming from the west. The air holds the promise of the day.  It is a bright spring morning filled with fresh wonder.     

Rolling hills of emerald, soft and mossy give way to sweet-smelling apple orchards sprinkled with tiny white blossoms.  The warm spring rain tickles my eyelids and caresses my face.

I walk down a slate path into a soft misty velvet wood..  Sunbeams dance and play with shadows in the whispering breeze. Scarlet tipped hummingbirds dart through the leaves of the trees drinking in the honeysuckle nectar of the tall pineapple sage.

 I delight in the riotous songs of a forest full of life.  Flowers of a million hues dot the landscape.  Tiny white butterflies flutter and frolic among them. Visiting each one in a true perfection of form.  

The sun rises high in the sky of deep cerulean and cotton white.  I lie in the grass and gaze up in wonderment, not a care in the world….My mind begins to wander and the hours drift away…in senseless abandon… and dream a dream inside a dream….

Sweet Dreams    Strawberryindigo.

 

A Fool in the Rain

Let’s set the scene:  Here I am tapping away on my laptop, tip tap hunt peck yak yak and then…..Blackout.  Everything goes dark and I am left sitting by laptop light.  I light a few scented candles and continue my tapping..just in mid tap I hear a muffled guffaw followed by a high-pitched squeal…

I run to the open window and peer out, and what do my wondering eyes find?

Two lone figures in dark hoodies setting the bus stop on fire….well not the bus stop, exactly, but a pile of trash next to the bus stop.  They whooped and hollered and pranced around the tiny fire, feeding it bits of trash to keep it going in the dark breeze.  I had to laugh as one of them started to do a little dance.

This is the kind of incident typical of my crazy neighborhood, during a blackout, really anytime.  I enjoy these times as best I can and  I try to see the lighter side of whatever life throws my way.  This time it is two ghouls with a fire.

Soon I grow restless and decide to drum up some of my own fun in the dark…I retreat to the backyard and into the garden. I find comfort here in the dark, in the garden at night.

 The moon is full and bright tonight.  It hangs high above me. Ripples and streams of of indigo clouds drift past.  I take a deep breath and drink it all in….

The screams of the ghouls have died away and are replaced with nothing. A silence that is totally remarkable in its unremarkableness. I savor this silence.  My mind starts to wander as I drift through the tall cool grass. 

And it makes me wonder…As a Led Zep tune fills the night air. How fleeting silence can be..it was then the rain came on and picked up like a riot. I stood under it and just soaked it up..A fool in the rain. I stood there a few minutes more, at first feeling quite proud of my new-found ”eccentricity” and then as the soaking continued I really started feeling the fool. I sloshed inside before anyone could notice…

My thoughts returned to my two “friends” the hooded ghouls and their what became of their little fire. I smiled as I thought of the cloudburst raining on their parade. I looked out the window once more and found that the ghouls were long gone, just a pile of wet debris left behind told the tale.

Just as well..One fool in the rain is enough, add to ghouls and now there’s three fools in the rain….and how was your night?

Strawberryindigo.

Love Thy Neighbor?

Image by aftab. via Flickr

I saw a scene today.   It was a small moment, a common everyday boring kind of moment but it changed me and the way I will view people and life in general from now on.

The woman down the street, my neighbor and “Nemesis”, Mrs. Wheatgrass. A person I have written of before. A neurotic, stressed out person who reminds me of sun-baked straw.   If you have not yet heard of Mrs. Wheatgrass, you will.  She is a story and a half unto herself.

Today though I saw Mrs. Wheatgrass in a different light…

A pest control truck in the neighborhood is a dreaded sight indeed and when I saw the sight earlier today, I felt a small panic.  YIKES! Pests!  The bright green truck, with the environmental message on the side looked nice, and responsibly green and expensive. It was parked in front of the Wheatgrass house.

I laughed a little laugh as I imagined high-strung and snooty Mrs. Wheatgrass on a chair screaming down at a mouse. Or worse.

..And speak of the Devil…there she was.  She was walking the pest guy to his pest truck.  She did not look happy. She looked majorly stressed out.  Her straw-colored hair was practically standing on end as she listened to the pest guy talk.  He kept pointing to her roof and every time he did she looked sicker and sicker.

By the time he got to the shoulder shrugging portion at the end, she appeared frantically frazzled.  For a moment I felt glee.  A little part of me felt happy at her misfortune.  I hate to admit it but that is what happened. 

It didn’t feel right and as I said it lasted but a moment but that was enough. I started to think back…where had we gone wrong?  I remember when we first spied each other, the day she moved in 6 years ago.  It was like a scene out of a spaghetti western, I could swear I heard the music genius of Ennio Morricone in the background.   She walked past and we just stared at each other, not a word was uttered. We just stared. 

I guess I should have welcomed her to the neighborhood. I really have no excuse. I could say that I suffer from social phobia or that it’s not wise to talk to strangers; both are true but honestly, I think it was because of the way she looked at me.  She made me feel uncomfortable standing on my own front porch.  Her thin lips curled up in a sneer.  I couldn’t help but feel that I had wronged her in some way.

We eventually spoke and over the years and have had some strange conversations.  She likes to approach me with her odd and neurotic household problems and I think she expects me to have all the answers.

When I don’t have the insight she wants she turns on me and a whole new round of snubs and snide remarks begin.  I know this sounds paranoid, but once in a while I get these strange looks from her family.  I think she talks about me to them, I just get these vibes.

All this makes me feel bad.  I don’t want to be her friend.   I am Strawberryindgo, she is Mrs. Wheatgrass.  We have nothing in common…..I do however hate the mean looks she gives me.  I have feelings.

It’s easy to be nice to someone who likes you….on the other hand…it’s not difficult at all to hate someone back who hates you first.  It’s natural, its human nature.  I tried to justify how I felt.

Why should I care if she has something nesting in her roof? So what?  If her roof is falling apart and I know she needs a new one and can’t afford it. She has never been nice to me and makes snide remarks to me whenever she can.

I know if she saw me in the same situation as she is now, she would have no sympathy for me. I know she would use the occasion to come over and grill me, she is that type. It seems more and more people these days are that type.  It’s like they are waiting for an excuse to “take it out on someone else.”  They take pleasure in others misfortune and feed on negativity.  I don’t want to be like them. I refuse to be like them!

It was at that moment I realised that I must be stronger than any negativity that Mrs. Wheatgrass or anyone else could throw at me. Maybe if I look deep inside myself I can find some sympathy for one such as she although she has none for me.

Niceness begets niceness and hatred begets hatred.  It is difficult to turn the tide, but now I see the importance in trying. If I can’t get along with my bitchy neighbor, who can get along in this world?  

Although she doesn’t know it, Mrs. Wheatgrass taught me a lesson today.  I don’t think I could actually ever “love” her nor do I think I could even like her, she is after all, Mrs. Wheatgrass.  But I will try my damnest…..

….and so this brings me to a quote by “Tricky Dick” and how fitting….

“Always remember, others may hate you, but those who hate you don’t win unless you hate them. And then you destroy yourself.”

Richard M. Nixon (1974)

Have a great day!   Strawberryindigo.

  

Goodbye Summer

Goodbye summer. It was nice to get to know you during the time we had together.  I always look forward to your visits  and I am reluctant to let you go.  It has always been that way with us.  You, blowing into town and me, eagerly anticipating your arrival.  We have such a short time together and then you are gone just like that. I am left  alone by the telephone and I know you won’t call me, or even send me an e-mail.

I know that by now I should expect this but every time you leave it seems a bit abrupt and I’m left with the feeling that I’m being used.  You breeze in and you stick around never paying a dime in rent.  Then you leave again.  You say; “It’s business baby.”

But why all the way across the world?  Are you spreading your sunshine all over someplace else? Is some other hemisphere going to get your love?  Say it isn’t so, summer.  I thought we meant something to each other.   Those long walks we’d have along the beach, the plans and dreams we had for the future.

This time I thought it would be different, but there you go again….

GOODBYE SUMMER.

Strawberryindigo.

And here’s to you, Mr. Starbucks

I must confess; at one time I was a latte whore.  I didn’t care where I got it or how I got It, as long as I got my Chai latte.  It is a weakness of mine that I enjoy, this love for Chai latte; it was love at first sip and its been going strong for a few years.

At first it was a no-brainer; there was no question as to where to get this coveted drink of mine..Starbucks.  This is the place for me, I decided.  It’s a bit corporate, but so what? I know what I’m getting there.

At Starbucks everyone seems so upwardly mobile, so cute in their colorful new clothes..people with jobs and busy lives.  Even the slackers types were busy clicking away with the free Wi Fi.  Everyone was happy and smiled and were friendly.  I guess that is easy to do when you have a job and extra money for fancy coffees.

I like the music in Starbucks, they play all types.  It is the only place where I will hear old jazz tunes from the 40′s my eclectic taste perks to attention on that….Billie Holiday and caffeine?  What more do you want?

We started to frequent a particular one, M.M. and I.  It seemed the lattes were extra good over there.   Frothy and creamy with a swirl of spicy…I am in Latte heaven!

One bright late summer morning last year something happened that at first didn’t seem so bad but then as time went on it got worse.  What I am talking about here doesn’t  sound so bad until you’ve lived it…I really don’t want to offend anyone by what I say.  Especially this group of people but in order I tell my story I must…

I can’t put it any other way than this; It was the cops.  We would walk in and there they were, a pack of them. At first I thought; cool, I have always thought of the police as people too, and I have always appreciated the risks they take everyday for us.  I am not a criminal, I have no record and I should have nothing to fear from the police. They are brave men and women who serve and protect……….but quite the suspicious bunch.

 I felt it right away.  I looked at them as people, they looked at me like a criminal.  I am really very harmless looking, I bet most of them could take me in a fight.  It’s obvious.  So I am surprised when one looks at me like a potential threat.  I suppose they are trained to  be like that, and it’s probably necessary in their book.  But I can’t help but be uncomfortable. 

It is this reason why they are a “they” and everyone else, including the criminals and me are: “We.”  It is also the reason we tried a new place down the street; A laid-back appearing hippie type establishment by the name of Tom and Mary’s.  A picture of Tom and Mary graced the sign out front, they looked so nice.. I liked them instantly, even before we met.  There was tie-dye everywhere and plastic chairs to sit on.  The inside looked like the outside but I thought; so what. 

No more cops and no more corporate guilt.  I am on the edge now, part of the anti establishment crowd …. A latte revolutionist!  Aha!

It was a bit downhill after that though; Tom appeared at least twenty years older in person than he did on the sign.  He didn’t smile or even look at us at all.  He muttered at us while Mary made the lattes.  She wasn’t much friendlier.  M.M.’s attempts at some sort of witty banter with her fell flat.  We could tell she didn’t take fools gladly. Mary was not the laid back hippie princess on the sign, she was a mean old witch.  Yikes!  The lines on her face told the story.

The place was empty and silent as a tomb.   A pimply toucan faced man with a tiny little dog walked in and chatted it up with Tom and Mary who, apparently liked him better than us.  I got the impression that this place didn’t cotton to outsiders who looked like Starbucks people.  I think it was my purple lipstick and Prada bag but I didn’t feel a part of the whole groove anymore.. My dreams of being a revolutionist dashed, I sighed and tried the drink.  It was good, I wanted it to be damn awful, I wanted to spit it out and run back to Starbucks. right then and there. 

We went back a couple of times but could no longer stand it. I am glad to say we returned to  the corporate giant and then I understood the reason for some of their success.  A Smile. The people at Starbucks seemed friendlier and happier. We told those kind people of our ordeal and they welcomed us back with open arms.

And the cops?  They seemed friendlier and happier too.  And different.  Two lady cops at the back booth last time.  I secretly drank a toast to justice and lattes and the two ladies in blue totally ignored us.

Have an excellent day!

Strawberryindigo.

 

Blue-eyed cat update: The return of Jacky

A blue-eyed stranger came to us this past July, we named him Jacky and he’s quite the cat.  I’ve written of him before, this blue-eyed handsome cat and how he came to live with us.  Much has happened since I last wrote of him. Jacky is turning out to be such an amazing cat, so amazing in fact I think he merits an update…

When last I wrote of him, Jacky was living in two houses, torn between myself and a foul-mouthed harpy down the street I’ve been calling Sally.  Jacky would spend days with me in the garden, playing and napping and eating some good cat food.   At night he would return to Sally.  We had this unspoken shady agreement  between us.  I don’t think she liked it anymore than I did, but there it was.

Untill one night about two or three weeks ago.  Jacky spent the night in the studio, curled up into a cute white furry ball on my writing chair.  I left him there, and when I returned in the morning, he was still there asleep.

I was pleased but I didn’t think much of it.  Jacky is a bit of a rogue and a wanderer. He’s there one moment , gone the next.  Except this time he didn’t go, he stayed with me all day, following me around as I watered the flowers.  That night, again he stayed and he has stayed every night since.

I know this sounds crazy but I think he is fascinated with water, running water.  He prefers to drink out of our leaky bath tap.  You can hear him jump in the bathtub: Plop.  Sometimes he knocks over the shampoo. Sometimes he surprises me in the middle of the night. Every time he gets his sweet little face all wet and every time he is so cute!   I know we should fix the drip, but how can we now?

I really knew this cat loved water when I was watering my lawn the other morning with a sprinkler and he was gingerly drinking from the arc of the spray.  What a cat!

Jacky, our nutty feline also loves to go for walks with his favorite humans.  Whenever M.M. takes the old pug out, Jacky tags along, trailing behind, intrigued with the whole process.  He never wants to be left out on all the fun.  He waits on the front porch, sunning himself and the moment any one of us steps out, he’s there.  He walks ahead of us and then proceeds to roll all over the ground wiggling all over the place.   He is  very irresistible when he does this and we have to stop and pet him.

We go out on special walks, just he and I.  We don’t go far, just around the block but it gives us just enough time to get into some pretty deep conversations.  I would ask him his opinion about this and that; The economy, global warming,  whether I’m too old to color my hair purple or we should take advantage of these historic low rates and refinance the house.  He just meows at me but I get his message.  He’s a pretty smart cat.

Really, he is smart, he sits and watches me make dinner every night now. He just sits on top of a high stool and stares intently. It’s as if he is trying to memorize everything I am doing so he can do it later.  Maybe one morning he will surprise us with breakfast.  He certainly is full of surprises.

Jacky has gained some weight and is getting a belly, but he still is in top shape. I have to give it to Mr. Friskies for that. I am not endorsing anything, the Friskies company is not paying me a dime, but I must say without a doubt, Since I’ve been feeding him the “seafood sensations” Jacky’s coat is so soft and luxurious and so white.  He is also the most muscular cat I’ve ever encountered. I guess it’s all the exercise he gets, walking and skillfully hunting moths by moonlight.

I think moths are attracted to him because he literally glows in the dark.  He sits under the light and the moths come to him.  What a trippy cat. Jacky has definitely made life around here more interesting.

Hope you have an adorably ”purrfect” day.

Strawberryindigo.

Hey You! An Indigo Rant

Hey you…Yes you..Can you hear me?  I guess you don’t but I’m going to tell you anyway.  Maybe someone smarter than you may listen and learn something….

We almost hit you today, my friend and I.  We almost plowed right into you with his dark green Honda.  You could have been seriously hurt or worse.  You have no idea how close you came to getting your nice young red blood spilled all over the street.

If it wasn’t for my friend’s lightning quick reflexes and some kick ass breaks you would have been toast today.

I can imagine how your parents would have felt.  You getting hit on your way to school, at the start of a new school year.  Maybe they saw you off this morning, maybe they watched you with pride as you walked off to school.  You are quite tall for your age, which I suspect is about 16.  You with your dark hair and black clothes must have cut quite the figure as you walked off, navy blue backpack, jammed full of books on your back.

Being a parent of a 16-year-old myself, I understand how it’s hard to let go and trust that your kid is going to do the right thing.  You teach what you can and hope for the best.  I’m sure your parents taught you how to cross the street.  I bet they told you to use a cross walk, look both ways and don’t just walk out into moving traffic.  But yet this is just what you did.

You walked into oncoming traffic, without a care in the world…You never even looked up, or you would have seen us.   You, stooped over with your hood covering the tell-tale white cord and ear buds of your IPOD.. you never even heard us, honking at you…you never heard the screech  that the tires made as we stopped just in the nick of time.  We came so close..you came so close, and you never noticed. 

I wanted to stop and get out of the car and chase you down to give you a stern talking to.  I wanted you to know how serious it all is, this life business.  I’ve lived long enough to realise that life is fragile and fate can turn on a dime.  One second of stupidity can make you pay big time for a lifetime.

I know you probably made it to school, the very same school my son goes to, you might even know him.  And you probably made it safely home after school today as my son did. All the while never knowing how close you came to your life changing forever, and not just your life, but your parents lives, who most likely bought you that IPOD and would never forgive themselves for it, or the lives of your friends and family members who would miss you, not to mention, my friend who would have hit you, he never would have been the same either….

And so to anyone who is listening tonight…hug your kid a little tighter tonight, I will.

Stay safe,  Strawberryindigo.

Crazy Neighbor Stomp Down

Image via Wikipedia

Oh what a crazy day in my little neck of the woods..Yikes!  My crazy drunken neighbor was in rare form, he had his car radio turned up and it was blasting the top 40 by 7 a.m.

That man is spirited I must tell you; he started yelling around noon.  The usual “Yeah!” and “Whooah!”.. the music got louder and louder.  As strange as this sounds; I like the guy’s taste in music, so I am enjoying myself out in the front, doing some light weeding and some casual seed harvesting, when the  dried out wheat straw  neurotic from next door shows up.

She asks me about the crazy drunken neighbor, as if I am responsible for the man’s behavior.   “I don’t know why he’s like that, I guess he is crazy.”  She asks me if I have called the cops on him and then asks  “What is my take on this?”   She has this notion that somehow I can resolve this for her because “I have lived here longer.” ( me,11 years her, 6 years)

I informed her of a time I called the cops, only to have them show up at my house, talk to me in right in front and all the while pointing directly at the guy before they talk to him for 2 minutes, then leave.  I tell her that I have an uneasy truce with the guy and I don’t want to ruin it. 

She looks at me like I am crazy.  I suggest that she, Mrs wheat straw call the cops.  She doesn’t like it, she mentions my dying tree in a snide manner, I tell her I’m trying to save the poor thing.  Just then like if on cue; We hear a “Yeah!”  She sighs and scampers off and I am left to my seed heads.

I was busy for most of the day; doing Mom stuff and gardening.  I could hear the party getting louder and louder.  Crazy drunken guy drumming on something and then he starting yelling out words but I couldn’t make out what they were, through all the slur.  I crept up closer and listened..It was “America!”  “God bless America!”  How touching and how patriotic.  This got a laugh out of me and the day progressed and eventually everything became quiet.

He must be napping, I mused and went to make dinner.

I am almost ready to put everything on the table when Act Two begins; It starts with a flurry of loud explosions (Fireworks) and ends a few minutes later with “You dirty F***ing Whore!”  over and over..Then bottles break and the roar of an engine, someone has driven off, I don’t want to look.

We turn up the music (Beatles, Abbey Road) and eat our dinner (chicken and rice, Yum)  I notice that it’s getting dark as the sounds of a click clicking of someone running in high heels tells me the party isn’t quite over yet.

 The night plays out without further incidents, or so I thought….I stayed up late writing about my “Unblinking eye of truth” post and chatting online.  It was about 1:30a.m. when I heard a noise, I didn’t know what it was and opened my front door and looked out.  There was the crazy neighbor’s adult son, I’ll call him Pudgy, kicking over my trash can!  He looks right at me and says with glee; “Call the cops.”

My stupid temper makes me run out and tell him to “Pick that up right now!”  He keeps going.  M.M. drags me inside…I am totally worked up by now and I stay up and drink coffee till I pass out……and then…Good Morning: it’s time to start the day and I’m off on a new adventure!  Have a great day!    Strawberryindigo.

The Colors of Life

 

The spectrum of humanity lives in my garden.  All the hues are represented.  I spent much of the day today here in the garden, working and enjoying the beautiful day. 

Here in my garden among nature’s living color.  The riotous reds and sunny saffron.  The bright fuchsias, vivid indigo and royal plums, Tangerine oranges and leaves of deep velvet green with tickles of snow-white petals kiss the Kelly grass. 

The butterflies flutter and frolic, while the songbirds twitter and tweet. The place hums with life.  Chickadees and blue birds, Robins and Crows, the little Wrens and the glorious hummingbirds all play and sing. 

 Raccoons and opossums, the neighbor cats and probably a few mice. A million kinds of insects and even a few humans also pay frequent visits to the garden.  It is an oasis of pure green in the city.

Everything is all organic.  I let nature do  a lot of the work so I can have more time to appreciate It’s wonder.

When I work the soil, I feel a certain connectedness to the Earth.  I feel so included, so a part of something much bigger than I .  A  cool cloud of  calm descends over me and my mind can finally relax.  I take in the whole experience of the garden, It is a delight to all the senses.

I plant a seed and watch that seed sprout out of the ground and grow into something beautiful  and useful, it’s like a miracle to me, every time. I can’t get over it, the more I learn, the more I need to learn.  

I have learned much over the years and have accomplished much as well.   Many times I had to learn the hard way until I finally learned that I don’t know everything and that it’s O.K. to ask for help.  I’ve learned that nothing and no one is perfect and that is a good thing.   We are all different: but just as beautiful, just as vitally important.  All of us contribute to the beautiful essence of the garden of humanity in our own unique ways.

We need a spectrum of colors in our garden of humanity.  And love and understanding for one another.  The health of the garden depends on all of us…From the bipedal big-headed hairy ape, to the smallest microbe.  We need to work together for the good of all.

As I work in my garden I think of these things;  I start to believe that nothing is impossible, if you believe.  Every plant starts with one tiny seed, and ideas are like that.  Some land in the wrong place, some never germinate or get water, some just wither and die, and some are even stepped on.  Some ideas, with love and care and attention can grow and become tall powerful towering trees, like the great redwoods.

I believe that, if we all believe and work hard.  Humankind can achieve wonderous beautiful things. Together, we can do much. Apart, we achieve nothing.  And maybe someday we can all live in peace and harmony.  Just like in my garden.

And while we are on the subject…Check out My Garden page  for a tribute to The Sunflower and more…Wishing you Peace and Happiness,

 Strawberryindigo.

Behind the Tide

Earlier this summer, M.M. and I packed up the two teenagers and headed to the beach, to one of our favorite coastal towns.

We had been there before.  It’s the perfect place for family fun in the day and other kinds at night.  There prevails an old school carny atmosphere and brassy charm.   This town reminds me of a big-mouthed quickly aging carnival queen with a great right-hook and a heart of gold.

Needless to say, I love it there and my family does too.  The last time we went there, it rained the entire time.  We had a good time, but not a great one and this time, we vowed would be the best time ever.

I like to play travel agent so I did some research and found us a nice place with two extra bedrooms, an indoor pool, room service, and all the extras (free coffee!) at a price that we could afford; in other words, I did the impossible for that town at that time. And while I’m patting myself on the back for being so utterly brilliant,( save your applause for the end)   Take a look-see at the beauty which is part of our Great United States…

Those are some of the reasons why we like it here so much.  I have a fondness for the Ocean that is almost instinctive.   The sound of the surf is like no other sound, it feels so comforting..so natural..the sound pulls me in and embraces me in tranquility.  The warm sand below my feet, the cerulean sky above and the yellow sun shining down .. I could almost stay there forever….. 

We have just arrived and I am eager to get to the sand.  Our suite is just what we expected and I hastily unpack and then, with my 16-year-old in tow…head to the sand and surf.

My need to be in the center of everything left us with a three block walk to the beach, this I did not mind since we passed by several shops and the cutest little mall…..There I taught my son a valuable lesson in patience and bought myself a new hat!  

Topped with my new hat we headed to the beach proper where we were greeted with a wall of humanity 10 feet thick.  I had never seen so many bodies pushed up together in one area, they reminded of seals or walrus packed up together like that.

There was music playing, little girls with fat stomachs in tiny bikinis gyrated to a Gaga tune, old furry men sat and drank beer while their too brown wives tanned their hides in the sun, the sweet smells of marijuana and coco butter mixed with the late afternoon heat, producing a pungent but intriguing aroma.

I had to get to that sand!  I ran ahead and ditched my shoes on the way, soon I’d be there… and then I was there,, I almost cut myself on brown beer bottle glass!  What? My eyes scanned the sand; It looked all used up.. a million footprints, cigarette butts and trash all over.  I almost felt like crying……..

We had been to this very same spot 18 months earlier and now it seemed so different, it was loud and raunchy, the aging carnival queen with the heart of gold, had been replaced by a mean old barfly with bad teeth and even worse breath. 

And then I saw “The Bitch”, she was new on the scene but I could tell that she would be a major player soon.  She wore the name of a famous chain hotel, utilitarian looking and gigantic, it was like Nazi’s had designed her.  What a monstrosity.  

She dwarfed the other hotels. They looked old and cheap in her shadow, I had no trouble imaging what would happen to these old gals in the near future..The fact that one already sported a “for sale” sign was just more handwriting on the wall.

The older I get, the more history in the making I get to witness, some of it is exciting, some of it is sad or scary, some of it is quiet and slow and steady and before you know it has already happened. 

No matter what happens, something is always happening and change is inevitable, especially with us humans.  Building bigger and higher and newer. In our race to keep up, do we ever notice if this race is one we should be running?  

I watch the poor patrons of this hotel trying to make the best of their vacation by swimming in a pool while construction workers with power tools hammer and drill above them, I can’t believe this…one drops his tool; he yells down to us, asking if we can see it in the tall beach grass.   We shake our heads ”no”  and get the hell out of there.

The sun is setting as we start walking back and I can’t help but feeling that this will be our last time here… and I am reminded of a quote

“The earth we abuse and the living things we kill will, in the end, take their revenge; for in exploiting their presence we are diminishing our future”

**Marya Mannes (1904-1990)

Happy Labor Day–Strawberryindigo.

Pages: 1 2

Saturday night fight: Kirk VS. Picard.

Image by JD Hancock via Flickr

There’s something I must confess; I am a Star Trek fan from way back, I don’t claim to be an expert on the subject of Star Trek, there are many others better versed in The Star Trek Universe. I am but a humble appreciator of quality Science Fiction.

Two of the most well-known of the Star Trek characters are among some of my favorites.  One is James T. Kirk.  Captain of the Enterprise in the orignal series and Jean-Luc Picard of Star Trek, The Next Generation.

Come on, who wouldn’t be a fan of either one of those guys?  I can’t help but wonder:

Who would win in a match up between the two?

Kirk Vs. Picard…..Let’s do this thing!

James Tiberius Kirk  Captain of The Enterprise in the original series.  What can I say about this swashbuckling Romeo with illusions of grandeur.  A tin plated hero adored by his crew.  A man so devoted to his ship, he had no woman before her.  It was almost sexual between Kirk and his girl.

Not that Kirk didn’t like a little, well a lot on the side with every humanoid female in the galaxy.  But no matter how strong the pull, Kirk always returned to his beloved.  The Enterprise.  

Kirk was as loyal as you can get and the bestest friend anyone could have.  Sure he was hung up on himself and all that.  And he wasn’t the brightest bulb.. so what.  He had Spock for that.

Kirk had spirit and that boy sure was plucky.  He loved a good fight and I love watching him in action, especially when he gets that little dribble of blood on his lip and his shirt gets torn.  Wow!  Now that is quality television right there.

Kirk never let a little thing like the Prime Directive get in the way of a good time.  Dammit, Jim had his priorities straight.  If I still drank,  I’d go have a beer with the dude, maybe several, and some Klingon Ale too.  

As captains go, Kirk was O.K., but as your roommate in college…totally amazing!  Kirk’s the man! 

Jean-Luc Picard  When I first met Jean-Luc back on Farpoint station I have to admit, I had my doubts.  I didn’t know what to think..A bald Frenchman with an english accent?  He sure was no Kirk, but who could be? Right?  So I gave him a chance, he had no Spock.  He needed all the help he could get.

Jean-luc was a little off-putting and stuffy.  As I mentioned, I didn’t know what to think….until Wesley Crusher, Picard hated children: Wesley included.  I hated Wesley.  We were united in our hatred of Wesley Crusher!

This endeared Picard to me.  As the seasons went by, I thought more and more of Picard.   His calm reasoned approach was reassuring.  Maybe I needed a Dad, not a boyfriend.  I don’t think Picard was in a hurry to get in a conflict, he tried to think his way out, instead of fighting.  (We need leaders like this in the real world)

I’ve done much thinking on this vitally important question, I go over and over it again. Some of the greatest minds have pondered this and how can I, little me, even begin to answer it?

I guess Picard was the better Captain, Kirk was the better all around guy and Spock….he’s the best of all in my book.

….Besides I like Spock!  All that logic and emotion rolled up in one.  Totally conflicted, just like me!  Haha.  He is, in my opinion; light years above the rest. He should have been Captain.

Live Long and Prosper—Strawberryindigo.

.