Beachmasters

Sea lions beneath the wharf Nov. 06

I was visiting Laini's Grow Wings site and read the most remarkable stories of sea lion aggression. These individual events, when clustered together are an object reminder that these animals must be respected and not messed with in any way. When we were at Santa Cruz Wharf last weekend, I took a few pictures of the sea lions that live and laze beneath the wharf. Their barking call back and forth is pretty impressive as is their size. If one of these beachmasters wanted my particular spot on the beach, I would definitely give way.

Hitchcockian moment and other bad dreams

I awoke this morning dreading going to work. Dreams from the pressure of work have started to haunt me again. I had shaken these feelings for a while, but now they are back. The pressure at work has grown to a point that I am behind in everything. The demands of participating in the development of a new college is more than I could have ever imagined. There is an intimacy of being part of a small college that did not exist when we were part of a larger entity. Now we are just one of three departments joined together and operate more as a family - mildly dysfunctional but familial nevertheless.

I awoke with the 9 a.m. meeting on my mind and wanted nothing more than to take a mental health day. What a laugh. One day would not have helped. So I decided to just be quiet, focus on the business at hand and hope for the best. The meeting turned out to be a positive experience. I left knowing what I needed to do and with luck I would have it finished in a couple of hours. Well, six hours later . . .

There is one me. I take care of 150 students, 27 faculty, the phones, anyone who walks through my office door, all the facilities planning, purchasing, bookkeeping, special projects, travel, mailings, publicity, recital programs, reports, class scheduling, recital hall schedulling, calendaring, advising matters, contracts, hiring. . . Six hours later, I completed (I HOPE) a simple two hour job. Lunch came and went. The Chair turned me loose an hour before closing. That turned into a great piece of luck.

My walk to the parking lot always offers up something of interest. Between the trees, lawns, lake, and sculpture, unexpected sounds and visions abound. I've seen foxes, heard the expansion of stainless steel with temperature changes, and hawks and owls diving for pray. But today I was served up an extra special treat.
















The racket was so unexpected. A loud cacophony of bird shriek traveled toward me. A sweep of motion passed over my head. The whoop whoop of wings rode the waves of air and then as suddenly as they erupted into the sky, they resettled into the trees. The shrieking never stopped and the tree took on an unreal life. Then as quickly as they landed, they erupted again. The birds swept up and away in all directions and then disappeared. The quiet that followed was almost eerie.

Whatever had happened seemed to have passed and I tucked my camera away. But no sooner did I reach my car and the birds returned. Out came the camera again for one last attempt to catch the crazed swarm. I managed to actually get several pictures but these two have the most impact.

I did not know that birds swarmed. I googled swarming birds but did not immediately discover anything useful about bird behavior. Perhaps some of you out there are bird-watchers and can provide some insight into this odd behavior. The experience was somewhat Hitchcockian in effect but the results were not nearly so daunting.

Santa Cruisin' on the wharf

The birthday girl and her best guy on the wharf.

Unfortunately, the Mystery Spot didn't happen. We stopped for lunch at the end of Santa Cruz Wharf and ate at our favorite little seafood shack, The Dolphin. This little hole in the wall place at the end of the wharf is a seafood lover's dream. After lunch we called to find out how late the Mystery Spot was opened. It was our bad luck to discover that the tours for the day were already completely booked. Though disappointed, it was also the perfect excuse to plan another trip to Santa Cruz. On the way out we noticed a whale watching business. No whales these days but now we know where to go when the season comes around again.

This boat put me in mind of the great Chris Cross song, "Sailing".

Three Amigos? - Not a chance.

The juvenile California gull is chased off constantly by its adult counterpart next to it. In the background is a magnificent and very camera ready Brown California Pelican. More of him further down.

The Boss. And see? I can stand on one leg!

Brown California Pelican

This handsome fella was not the least bit camera-shy. He gathered quite a crowd around him and even allowed the wharf rats (uh huh, that would be US) to take pictures with him.

Preening and grooming


On the lookout for dinner


One Last look

Thanksgiving

The table felt small this year without a parent

but mom and dad were there in spirit.

Quanah and Marcia were only a phone call away.

Zachary is always in our thoughts.

The table felt small this year

but the spirit of family rang true.

Best Laid Plans

Don't you just love it when a plan comes together? I don't know about you but one of my least favorite things to do is to shop for clothes. This includes shoes too. However, purses are another matter but more about that in a minute.

Biene called Tuesday and we arranged to meet at Starbucks at 11 a.m. today. She had a birthday present for me and did not want to wait until next Tuesday to give it to me. Well, what could be better? Coffee, Biene, and b'day presents. I fell right in with the plan. Starbucks has a Christmas Noel coffee right now that is yummy so all you coffee folks out there, run, don't walk to the nearest Starbucks for some straight up, none of that fancy stuff, coffee. My wonderful surprise from B was a set of Faber Castell artist pens and a small watercolor Moleskin notebook. I was in heaven. Thank you B!!

We parted ways after about an hour and I set out on my dreaded errand of shopping for a pair of jeans, not to mention socks and shoes and something warm. We are heading for the Santa Cruz Mystery Spot tomorrow for Krista's 22nd birthday. She's never been there and decided that this was the b'day destination. Said destination is a couple of hours away in the Santa Cruz mountains. The weather will be seriously (for us anyway) cold.

First stop shopping for me is always The Dress Barn. If I don't find it there, I know I have a chore ahead of me. Well, thank all shopping goddesses, not only did I find the socks and jeans, but I walked away with two sweaters. Since I'm simple style girl shopping is actually pretty simple (when I get to it). If it's fussy, forget it. So using my $20 gift card from Krista from my b'day last week, I take very good advantage of the after Thanksgiving sales. But the deal of the day was the PURSE I found while shopping for shoes at Payless.

OK, so I have to digress a bit but here's the story of the PURSE. I as watching QVC the other day and the Dooney & Bourke hour was on. I saw a purse. I fell in love. I HAD to have that purse. However, my conscience got the better of me and I chose to take a pass on this purse. Net savings to me - $156.00.

Well, there is indeed an angel out there that sprinkles good girl dust when you pass on a must have D&B. This dust came in the form of a purse at Payless that was pretty much the same thing but was actually bigger and more malleable. It was also on clearance for $10 BUT since I had found my athletic shoes, I was able to take advantage of the BOGO and I got it for $5.00. Not too shabby, huh? That's it in the picture at the top of this post with all the other goodies I found.

I love it was a plan comes together.

Fall At My Feet

As I walk into work I pass, daily, through an ever-growing pile of leaves from the park-like forest that surrounds our campus. Liquid ambers, ginkos, maples, magnolias and so many more. Fall makes a wonderland at my feet.

1 Deep Breath - Senses

Every morning the nuns of the convent at the corner of our street set out seed for the birds. The seed is always in exactly the same spot in the middle of the road. Carefully, I approach the feeding spot slowing my car so as not to startle and yet every morning the doves flutter away except for . . .


Morn's feathered flurry
Grey wisps scatter from seed
Three brave ones remain

Sunday Scribble - #34 Hero

H e reached for me and never

E ver let me down.

R eason dictated that this would soon be

O ver, but it became never-ending.

A Just About Completely Perfect Day

Saturday beckoned with a lazy, damp finger. Rain threatened to slowdown my weeklong plans of running away to play a couple of hours down the road. Birthday blues knocked at my door but I wasn't at home. I had PLANS.

Don and I took off for Merced (fortifying ourselves with coffee first, of course) and met up with David and Yolanda. After a bit of a slow start, we were off for Old Clovis, the historic old town area for an afternoon of antiquing, browsing, and peering into windows. First stop was The Rose Cottage and Tea. Don and Dave were totally comfortable in the feminine Victorian setting (well it took a little getting use to for Dave but he settled in) and didn't mind being surrounded by rooms full of women. I think they might have been the only men there.

Don is in the midst of creating a Victorian style office for himself in our front bedroom. He went browsing the shelves and returned with this pretty teapot. For me?, you might ask. Absolutely not. It is taking up residence in his evolving office.

Feminine fripperies.

I have ONE cup and saucer of this particular Staffordshire set, "Tonquin". I love brown transferware and this 8 piece place setting set me to dreaming. Oh to have $450 and the freedom to spend it without guilt on these beauties.



More feminine fripperies.

This fascinating chair seats three. I think it is called a conversation chair. Can't you picture yourself in a garden with two friends enjoying a beautiful day and happy conversation?

Yes, that is a real cat in the window. In fact, there was another cat on the opposite side of the window stretched out like a snake securing himself in a narrow space.

This shop was closed but was well guarded.

This old wall was richly covered by a gorgeous climbing vine.

I wonder what word is still struggling to peek out.

A magical end to a magical day.

After dinner at a Mexican diner we headed home. Dave slowed down long enough for me to take this picture of Rose Cottage all dressed up for the Christmas holiday season.

Painting again

Through all my recent ups and downs, the one thing that has been pushing its way back into wakefulness is my desire to paint. I love watercolors and am settling into working with them. I've been working with WC pencils and traditional paints. I like working with miniatures, usually nothing bigger than postcard size. Here is a watercolor I finished of my mom tonight. I expect to have many more to share soon.

Searching for balance

I was just emailing with Janet (at Just Bee-Cause) and discovered that my heart just breaks for us (women). As a group, I think most women must suffer from this malady called loss of self. Even the unique women that we could name as having done great things have had to sacrifice a part of themselves to get there. I am sure this is true of men as well but I think women allow themselves to feel it more.

I have no advise to offer at this point but I do have an abundance of empathy for anyone who is feeling as I feel right now. It DOES help to hear from others, their words and that they are feeling the same way. Misery loves company???? Janet described the self as getting smaller and smaller which perfectly illustrates my feelings. I often say that I want to be invisible so that I can go unnoticed and life won't be troubling. But that is what life is. Life IS troubling. Life is supposed to be troubling. How boring life would be otherwise. But too much of anything is a bad thing. I end up feeling out of balance and I think that might be the crux of the problem, the loss of balance. Have balance and we have more for ourselves and just enough for the rest of life.

Daisy's Word Game

Daisy has a lovely word game running this week - Daisy Lupin's Stream of Consciousness. This sounded like fun and one of my favorite words was on the list posted right next to the beautiful woman walking in the wind.

S ensual
U tterly
B eautiful
L imitless
I n
M ind
E verlasting

Sunday Scribbles #33 - I don't want to be a passenger in my own life

Wednesday
This week's Sunday Scribble ( which finally started emerging today) stunned me. Since my mother's death in October I've had unexpected reactions that I was completely unprepared for. I've discovered that, for me in any event, it takes the removal of one of my major purposes in life to discover how much of myself I've given away. I don't claim this as necessarily a bad thing; it just is the way it is. Between work, child-rearing, and later concentrating on mom's needs after dad's death and then her own failing health, I find that I left precious little time for me. Most of my decisions were made based on other people's needs so much so that I can't figure out easily what the heck it is I want or need.

Tuesday I woke up and felt such a terrible lump in my throat that I could hardly breathe. I had lunch with my dear friend Biene and clustered all of my anxieties on the paper placemat before me. Frantically the words appeared - stress, poor future health, weight, lack of focus, lack of discipline, sadness, confusion, old ingrained habits, poor self-treatment, loneliness, lack of purpose, desire to make up for lost time FAST, feeling the encroachment of my own years, fatigue and more fatigue, the desire to run away . . . Wednesday wasn't much better. I left for lunch and went looking for Don who was at his usual lunch spot. I talked. He listened. Then he gave his usual good and detached piece of advise - "Just take one thing at a time". My conclusion? Make a list. How can I keep all the stuff under control if I don't make a list? At least I'll have something to focus on.

Thursday - a.m.
While there are still matters that require my attention and will require my attention for a while, I have enough open space in my life now that I find myself reflecting on all the times that I made decisions based on the needs of others and then I read Lili's entry this morning at her lovely Indigo Pear blog. If ever there was something that was speaking for me, it was this beautifully written piece about life changes. This is certainly happening to me.

Thursday evening
I look at the structure what I am writing and it's as disjointed as I've been feeling for the past three days. Those cliche questions - who am I, where am I going, what do I want to do, how do I get there - are rattling around in my head madly. I picture myself swirling in the center of a storm of frantic, demanding, attention grabbing aspects that create nothing but chaos. The inner noise that has hit me since the kids have grown, with retirement looming, and most especially pushed along by mom's passing have imposed an inner racket that makes it almost impossible to breathe at times. There is absolutely nothing "required" of me anymore. All of my choices have been chosen based on the needs of others and suddenly I find myself in the driver's seat of an out of control train.

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a train engineer. Decades later I read a story about a woman who actually accomplished this seemingly unreachable goal. She was the first. Twenty-five years ago I walked into a smelly man's man sort of gym. Everything was so powder puff back in the late 70's. I wanted something serious. The owner laughed me out of there. Trains? Frills-free gyms? What was I thinking? Smart, I think now. I just didn't know what to do next. There wasn't a support system. Other women might have been asking similar questions but I didn't know any of them. I watched life go by as I dreamed of things I would like to do and ended up just sitting back and watching the scenery pass by.

I was told from an early age that I was a daydreamer. I was a late bloomer and a daydreamer. It always seemed such a negative thing. I wonder now what I might have been like if that young dreamer had been encouraged to make dreams reality? Well, now I have a chance to answer that question and frankly, it scares the shit out of me. And being scare shitless might be the best thing for me at this stage of my life. Saturday is my birthday. I turn 59. If I live to my mother's age, I have less than 30 years left. What a sobering thought. It's definitely past time I stopped being a passenger in my life and learn to drive train.

Darkness Falls

Five evenings past
I fell under the spell of
a dazzling white moon




as I stopped at
multicolor intersections
awaiting lights’ change

Green Eggs and . . .

Does anyone find this lunch plate as weirdly wonderful as I do? I had lunch with good friend Biene a couple of weeks ago and she ordered something called green eggs. It was a new items on Fuego's menu. This promised to be a scrumptious concoction of eggs, spinach, and feta cheese blended together then scrambled. Topped with grilled red bell peppers and accompanied by the usual rice and beans, this should have been the perfect meal. So enjoying my latest read, The Road Through the Mountain, I dove in.

Well, it wasn't exactly Blech!! but I was unexpectedly disappointed. I like eggs. I like spinach. I LOVE feta cheese. What had gone wrong? A few bites later, it hit me why it tasted so salty. Feta cheese is salty. Mix all these goodies together and then ADD salt and you have a recipe for disappointment. I left some of the eggs behind and the waitress asked if everything was ok as she took the plate away. I really could not let it go so I told her it was too salty. I thought preparing the dish in the future, the cook should forego the use of any additional salt. She was fine with my comment and I set about paying for lunch.

Much to my surprise, the manager came over, presented me with a 35% discounted price for the lunch and said she agreed that it was too salty and the feta cheese would provide enough in the future. Cool. So I voided one check and wrote another. Off I went back to work anticipating my next trip to Fuego's. They really have good food in a casual cantina setting. I probably won't order the green eggs again but it sure did make a pretty picture didn't it?

Minor Musing

Feeling very low today. Stomach hurts, depressed, super-uptight. Sibling estate money discussions are not adversarial but stressful none the less.

The good news is that I did three little watercolors last night. Six more to go. All my gas pumps in wallet size format. I'm finding that much more satisfying than doing the colorizing on-line. On-line is okay for figuring out color combinations but using the actual wc pencils and blending puts me much closer to the feeling of actually creating something. For me, this is a step forward. My photography; my watercolor touch; my art. I think I may be on to something.

Sunday Scribble - Morning MOURNING and Moving Forward

As I write this, it has been two weeks since mom's passing. This is the first weekend of the rest of my life without a parent. The loss of both parents, though six years apart, leave such an unexpected void. Taking the presence of parents for granted feels very normal. I had my dad for 53 years. I had my mom for 58 years. Such a strong presence isn't easily filled.

My relationship with my mom was a close one. The last three years were closer still and since July, intensely close. On reflection, my life has gone from big picture, to sharp narrow focus, to an absolute pinprick of focused tunnel vision. Each narrowing of my attention to her took something away from me but it was something I gladly let go of.

It wasn't always easy and, in fact, was often tiring and frustrating for both of us. The last three months have been painful like the slow peeling away of a band-aide. We "know" a quick tug is best and it's over with quickly but when it is about the letting go of a life, I dont think there is a right or wrong way. There is just a "way". I know that if I had given up or given in to the inevitable right away, I would have missed so much.

I would have missed the chance to encourage her to fight for the return of her strength; I would have missed mom making a connection with Doris and their handholding friendship and her pleasure in seeing "The Sound of Music" once more on Margie's TV. I would have missed giving her a manicure, hand & foot massages, quiet moments of just looking at each other. Those final humms of song the day before her death would have been missed. I would not have had the chance to slowly assimilate the closing of her life and come to a degree of acceptance. And most of all, we would not have had the chance to be with her in a peaceful good-bye and the certain knowledge that dad, along with mom's own parents were all welcoming her home.

So, what now . . . . .?





One of the things I've lost over the years is my motivation to do anything creative. My focus, almost 100%, has been on the needs of my mother. While I was losing my creative motivation, I was more importantly, losing my mother in bits and pieces. To see your parent go from healthy and active to helpless in an instant is painful beyond imagining until you are actually experiencing it. You lose more than your parent; you lose a part of yourself, your ability to continue the normal parent/child relationship that never really leaves no matter how old you are. Your parent is your parent.

Over the last couple of days, I've become aware of an empty space within me that before now was occupied by my mother. Suddenly I find myself without daily purpose beyond work and husband and daughter. Suddenly there is all this room within me and I don't know what to do with it.

Last spring I managed to commit to taking an on-line art journal class through Artella and I actually completed quite a lot of the work that was assigned. But then the class was over and the motivation was gone. And then mom tripped and I was consumed and overwhelmed by the urgency to fix her, make her strong again, SAVE her. It took me three months of peeling away the layers of painful reality to let go of the hope of recovery from such a simple thing, a trip in the bathroom, and its dire consequences.

So this morning I awoke, knowing for two days that this would be the first weekend of the rest of my life without my mother OR my father. Last weekend didn't count. She was still with us as we planned her funeral. This weekend is the start of something entirely new. What will I do? Now what? The question is like a huge gong echoing in my head.

Actually, the change started last night. I took out my art journal for the first time in six months. There is a page in progress now and it will be interesting to see where it ends up. But this morning at 5:30 I had another idea.

I love the old gas pumps I found a few months ago and the photo was begging for a conversion. First to B/W. Then I went to work with software and pastels. The watercolor effect please me but I don't feel connected to the color. Next step, print the B/W on watercolor paper, use my WC pencils, blend, and frame. Perhaps that will provide a storng feeling of being connected to the piece.

I'm surprised at the number of parents who discourage their children from pursuing artistic/creative careers. I see it every year as the newest group of muisc majors enter our program. Mom never discouraged me. I was my own worst enemy and self-discouraged literally for decades. When I was most separated emotionally from my creative impulses, she was always there encouraging me. I think mom would be very happy with me today.

Our Daily Warrior will be missing for about a month

Tammy over at Daily Warrior has posted a really marvelous poem that I think all women will relate to and maybe even weep over a bit. I was absolutely captivated by it. Please go visit her.

Joseph's Hands

Today I am back at work and feeling somewhat better than yesterday. I was thinking last night about mourning and feeling joyful at the same time and the dichotomy of such feelings.

Last night was Halloween and neither Don nor I felt like answering the door to happy and laughing children. Quiet is our place right now. We had a long, slow dinner at the local Perko's, shared a banana split, and just talked.

I awoke this morning feeling more prepared to meet the day than I have up to this moment. Mourning and missing are still center stage in my thoughts but then I walked into the music building. As I opened my office door, Joseph, sweet piano major, Joseph, was sitting in the lobby with other students and was strumming his guitar. He looked up, saw me, and instantly burst into an improvisational song of welcome back.

There just isn't anything like music to make me smile and his sweet, spontaneous explosion of chords and rhythms and words lightened my heart.