bury water

On my sidewalk

Ben Davis: Union Made, Plenty Tough

I've always loved this sign in the Mission. An inspiration for the month

Moolaadé from Ousman Sembené

The Everglades part 2

The Everglades

Jerry took me to the Everglades. We drove down a highway surrounded by strip malls that eventually gave way to a large canal on one side of the road, obviously draining the water away from its natural direction. Then it was grass all around (save the stupid canal).
We stopped at a place to go for an airboat ride. As we waited our turn to board, we looked down and saw this lovely 6 - 7 feet reptile. His hind legs were as large as my thigh. We were then instructed to go over a metal bridge and board at platform 1. On our way, following a split rail fence we looked down and not 2 feet from us was a 3 footer facing us. No protection, nothing. It didn't feel safe although we made it to the boat in fine condition.

The trip across the sawgrass was superb, hummocks dotting the horizon around us. We drove out about 20 minutes and then returned to watch a man in a cage pet six gators as they approached him with their mouths fully extended and hissing. One had ripped his pants earlier. Afterward we were given the opportunity to hold one. Walking back to the parking lot we detoured and ended up on a narrow path with water on either side of us, with no protection. It felt like we were in a Carl Hiaasen novel.

The Object of my Affection

We met on-line. He intrigues me. He beguiles me. I took the photograph on Jupiter Beach. I enjoy his company and each day we speak, I love more what I hear and see. His name is Jerry and he wants to move.

Glofuze

It's coming...

My mother had SAD. Yes she could be sad and with SAD (Seasonal Affected Disorder) she was sadder. Autumn was very difficult with her as the sun gave off less of its rays and Vitamin D. She was very sensitive. When we spoke over the phone while I lived in California, her conversations would take a turn around August 15. "It's coming," she'd begin. It meant that she could feel winter's cold light advancing on her soul. When I returned to Connecticut I felt the effects of wan light as well. It wasn't as severe as her's but enough to warrant me purchasing a "happy light" and downing copious amounts of fish oil. No wonder those in the Arctic enjoy raw whale blubber. It is not available in this part of New England and my mother's dread is what I think of when I hear those 2 words.

For me dread occurs with fireworks. I dislike loud noises and when I was young my dog would panic at thunder. My father would ignore my requests for consideration of my dog. He loved explosives and would acquire some form of loud firework during this season and throw them into an empty 55 gallon drum to increase the sound, giggling and laughing with the more brusque and unfeeling male friends around him, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. He wouldn't even wait for me to grab the dog before he'd gleefully toss a cherry bomb into the drum. She, the dog would run away in panic and I would walk or drive around to find her to take her away from the dreaded noise. This is what comes to my mind when I think of this season, and probably will for perpetuity. Thank you Joe, it's coming...

making food

My friend Helena gave me a recipe for faster healing. I made a big pot of it for my friend who is recovering from surgery.

Feeling Rushed

Feeling rushed with all I have to do, but continue on...

self portrait in samovar of eiffel tower

Jupiter Beach

I went to Florida for the weekend, in the heat and humidity. The beach was wonderful. It was in Jupiter, my planet.

What I won't miss

Starting tomorrow (and actually since last Thursday) I'll be sporadically blogging, since I need to move by the 15th of July

Woodtick, Connecticut

My first school was called Frisbie Elementary and it was on Woodtick Road in Woodtick. Caryl once said she found the name disturbing and it was at that point I realised its significance. This is also the location of the funeral parlor (Woodtick Memorial) that prepared Steve, my mother, my father and my sister after their non-tick-related deaths. The area is no longer a village, rather an extension of development from Waterbury down the road, and Wolcott's zoning free-for-all. This sign is obviously not from Wolcott, but it extracted the memories from my brain. Lyme Disease is named for the town in Connecticut the disease was first discovered.

Stop, listen, go

Again two days pass and no entries. My head is in cookielandia and I need to stop and ponder at least once a day. A moment before I left my doctor's office to look at the sky.

The Chicken Dance or The White Clam?

To whomever Steve and I announced our wedding plans the inevitable question would be,"Are you going to have a chicken dance?" What came to mind was as a child I saw our neighbor, Mrs. Norton and my father cut the heads off the chickens we raised and as the blood spurted out from their headless necks they danced in their last spasms of life. No, this was not a forced dance of a bird. I'd ask what was a Chicken Dance, and each time the person would place their hands in their arm pits and start flapping their arms, explaining it was like the Electric Glide and the Macorina. I'm not sure which image was more troubling. I was stunned the first time watching an adult in my house display such movement, speechless each time afterward.

I had not heard of a Chicken Dance and once again I felt I had fallen from a crack in the universe, perhaps a black hole and had landed in a place where everyone around me assumed I was from the same clan, yet I knew not what that culture was. Perhaps I had just missed out when I lived in California. I asked my friends there. No one had heard of it. But as I queried about, I received more information about what constitutes a chicken dance and I received numerous youtube videos demonstrating the phenomenon.

No, we did not have a chicken dance nor did we have a Chicken Dance at our wedding.

But recently I went to a pizzeria in Litchfield and found this item on the menu. It brought back all the memories of my lost cultural experiences.

Another view of Waterbury

Once again I lost another day. Could it be that many things are going on at once?

Or two on the arm is worth a picture

a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush

Solde?/Sold!

Today I was offered a price on my house and I accepted. The closing is July 15. My mind reels with all I need to do. I will miss this house and all Steve and I put into it . I look forward to start a new life.

The Monkey's Paw

One of the most memorable short stories I have read was The Monkey's Paw by W. W. Jacobs, (http://gaslight.mtroyal.ca/mnkyspaw.htm)

In it he speaks of a poor elderly couple in Britain and their son who receive a talisman that provides them with 3 wishes. The first is that they become rich. The next day a factory representative from the son's employer announces to the couple that their son has died and they are offered financial compensation for their loss. In grief one of them makes the second wish, that the son return. As they hear scraping and dragging sounds coming closer to their door, they are beside themselves in realization that their wish may bring more bad luck. The third, well, I think it's worth reading.

Monkey has become wary of my left hand. Recently he came to a conclusion that it was a threat. I don't understand why, but accept it, like plastic wrap and my iPhone that he attacks when he sees them. I keep my paw away from him while he sits on my lap. Patiently I have worked with him, showing him that it is but a part of me and loves him as much as the rest of my body. Unfortunately this did not work. Today he took a hard bite on my wrist as I was petting him. He almost pierced the skin and I now have a bruise on my wrist. I wish I understood his mind but instead I think of Travis the chimp in Stamford.