Category: Humor
Dear Badfish, again (random memories)
- The Chart House restaurants in North San Diego County were a favorite eating place on vacation with my adopted family each fall.
- When I bought my house forty some years back, I picked it for its unusually large piece of unincorporated city property, complete with corral and finished horse barn. It came with two Shetland Ponies, a great start to the idyllic Horse-Life I’d dreamed of. Country paradise smack dab in the middle of suburbia!! But 3 weeks after we moved in, my son’s father left us. He sold the ponies (and my Dalmatian Clancy) while 3 year old son and I were off gathering our wits for the next phase of our lives. I ended up boarding other people’s horses for years, throwing myself into two jobs and trying to finish a degree so I could start my practice. I had also picked this house because I could immediately see building my office and Group Therapy room in the unfinished basement. I had the same struggle we women all had back then, fighting the mom vs career battle and I wanted to work at home.
- When trying to finish college, I waited tables at one of Seattle’s two Five Star restaurants, Henry’s Off Broadway. I got the job with zero experience, by barging onto the construction site and approaching the restaurant manager as the restaurant was still being built! He said he hired me for “my balls”. Hey, I was a young, desperate single mom and this place was just blocks from Antioch University. To fit everything in logistically, I needed a job either right next to home or to school, so apparently my ovaries turned into balls on the spot.
- I’ll never forget the John Denver concert at the Tacoma Dome, when we had just heard that one of our Board of Directors for INDEPTH (Institution for Developmental Education and Psychotherapy) had died. Buckminster Fuller was our most important supporter, and as it turned out, one of Denver’s closest friends. Mr. Denver could barely go on with his concert, all choked up. (One of my favorite quotes from Bucky was There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it’s going to be a butterfly.)
- I would have done obscene things back in the day to cross paths with any of the Eagles. The closest I got was attending every concert I could, including one when I was 30, a Super Concert with The Eagles, Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, and BONNIE RAITT!! An amazing birthday gift from friends!! And, I’m thanking the universe now that my family treated me to the Eagles History tour (again, in the Tacoma Dome) just 2 years ago, for another birthday. I will grieve for Glenn Frey for some time to come.
- I was a Hermit Crab thief. On a once-in-a-lifetime, non-touristy trip to Fiji, on an extremely remote, uninhabited island at the southern most tip of the Lau Group, I collected fifty of what I thought were uninhabited hermit crab shells, beautiful ones. I wanted to bring back a shell for each of my clients at the time. Normally, we would not collect anything off the many beaches we visited without that island’s Chief giving us permission (after the whole Kava drinking ceremony) but as I said, uninhabited. So I asked the Universe if I could take some shells and it said “Sure, why not?” What it didn’t tell me was how to know if my chosen shells were occupied. Nope. Didn’t discover that until later that night. Soundly sleeping in my beautiful stateroom aboard The Tau (means “friend”), a 90 foot yacht housing a crew of 5 and me, with my 6 best friends, I am awakened by this frantic scritching sound!
Just about all fifty of my “empty” shells, being stored in a bowl of fresh water, were scrambling to escape!!! Not to worry, unless you believe that Hermit Crabs are traumatized when you move them to a new beach. I gently placed all of them on the sand of the very next island we came to, with a sincere apology for their uprooting.(I’ve always struggled with anthropomorphism). And then our Fijian First Mate, Sefo, taught us how the natives find out if there is “anyone at home” in shells of all sizes. (They hold the shell close to their mouths and whistle. If someone is in there, they come right out to say HI.) I then successfully collected 50 empties!
- Cross Country Skiing- I learned in an idyllic circumstance. Imagine you are deeply, newly, psychotically in love…..with someone who lives as far across the country as you can get. (man, do I ever hate a long-distance relationship) BUT, he just happens to be in a location for 2 weeks that is a 12 hour drive from where you live. He is on the US Disabled Ski Team and West Yellowstone is their pre-Olympics Training Camp. He can’t get to me…he’s blind, so I decide to surprise him by showing up there. On our regular, nightly, blissful and painful phone call, I tell him to walk outside so we can be sort of standing under the same full moon. He dutifully (or romantically) walked out of his motel room, guide cane in one hand and phone in the other. I then scared the shit out of him by walking up to him to hug him! (I was not yet fully Blind Etiquette Trained.) It worked out though and we spent from midnight until the beautiful moon set/sunrise, with him teaching me how to ski the groomed trails he and his team practiced on all day. He already had them fairly well memorized, even though he skied with a sighted guide. Only surprise were the huge, and I mean HUGE buffaloes that apparently wandered across these same trails all night long. THAT was a bit less romantic.
- I married the guy, kind of, on the above mentioned Fiji trip, and we were together for 13 years, most of which I would not trade a minute of, including one spectacular, take-only-the-back-roads trip to his best friend’s wedding in Breckenridge. That’s the closest I got to your old stomping grounds. I loved my guy and I loved hanging with the US Disabled Ski Team for those years, a crazy, irreverent bunch with nicknames like Blinky, Wheelie, Stumpy, and Flipper (this last, a Thalidomide baby with birth defect shrunken arms that just flipped around).
- There should be a law against, and an immediate consequence (Karma takes way to long and is less satisfying to the injured parties) for certain kinds of marital cheating; like doing it with someone you know, especially someone close to you, or using any of your territory or equipment (your bed or vehicle), or right under your nose, etc. In my case, it was with a former client of mine who was now a client of HIS…definitely the biggest No-No in my profession! Can I pick ’em or what?!? Yeah yeah, I got the lessons part and all but shouldn’t I be able to choose (on purpose, that is) which classes to sign up for???
- And that brings me Back to the Eagles–Don Henley in particular (along with Lynch and Winding)…one of my favorite healing songs is “My Thanksgiving”. My favorite line is “sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge”.
Oh and Badfish, I’ll see your Ted Bundy and raise you with a Charlie Manson. (That whole thing was happening less than a mile from where I brought my sweet baby boy home from the hospital.)
And there you have it, at least until you write the next chapter of your memoirs, to trigger the next bunch of memories for me!!
PS I forgot San Diego, which I already wrote about, and your Om T-shirt!
This is a handmade cloth paperweight.
If you have not visited https://badfish2.wordpress.com/ it’s one of my favorites, a visual treat and a fascinating journey!
Chosen State of Mind for WPC
click on a pic for slide show
This is my state of mind these days.
Probably just the thyroid problem I am having…………
Wordless Wednesday-DO let this cat out of the bag!
Oh, and Badfish? They ARE real!
Met a young cousin of yours recently and decided to do one of those “proof of life” photo shoots with him.
teenage bug (Extatosoma Tiaratum)
Adult female Giant Spiny Australian Leaf Bug
Then Baby Badfish asked if his girlfriend could join us. I of course, said YES, curious and all. Who do these Badfish boys date anyway??
I think she’s pretty cute, if a bit tipsy.
And a funny thing happened during our photo session. I turned my back…for just a second and look what happened!
From out of nowhere! This one just showed up! Can’t tell if she is a bug girlfriend herself or if she is lunch for my hungry bug. (Just kidding. They are definitely herbivores!)
Anyway, for real, they are REAL!
Dear Badfish (again)
Crystal Pier at the end of Garnet Street in Pacific Beach…that is my sand, my original beach, my sunset place, my surfing destination, my first bikini debut (had to sneak so my Mom wouldn’t know), my first kiss (Russell Lanthorne), my second run-away-from-home spot (my first was to hike to the top of Loring Street Hill, 2 blocks from our house, so steep and high, I could see my entire world from there).
These memories came tidal-waving back, Badfish, when you mentioned the pier in a comment. Some of the pictures I found online were images as familiar to me as my own hands. (By the way, I am still learning how to find and use free photos on my blog.)
Memories, in order of significance: starting with…well, you can decide if they go most important to least, or the other way…
1) My bathing suit. I wore the aforementioned bikini on that beach.
I found my first bikini and bought it with babysitting money. A whopping $13.
It had to pass inspection by both my mother and grandmother.
Luckily, in this instance anyway, even at 15, I still had nothing “up top” to show for my age. As a matter of fact, my nick-name from some Junior Highschool bullies was Busty (a logical transition from my last name, Bessey), but chosen for me because I wasn’t.
Here’s how creative I was in my pitiful to fit in.
It was camouflaged as a two piece bathing suit, with maximum coverage.
You could wear this one particular bathing suit in a modest, cover your belly button way, OR, your could pull on the drawstrings hidden on each side of the suit bottom, and Voila, decide exactly how itsy bitsy you wanted your Yellow Polka Dotted Bikini to be! (Mine was pink and green plaid.)
I opted for minimum coverage, pulling those secret drawstrings as tight as I could…once I got away from the house, that is. I was hoping, I think, to draw attention away from the also adjustable, Kleenex or Kotex stuffed bra top. (Yes, when I swam, it was a soggy mess until I switched to my cut up gym socks.)
2) Battle of the Surfer Girls and the Spider Babes. Picture a long flat sandy beach, about 15 stair-steps down the hill from the sidewalk, parking area and life guard tower. Me and about 15 other girls, with our surfboards, requisite bikinis on ultra tanned bodies and our long, straight, variously attained blond hair are gathered on the beach. We have heard the Spider Babes are coming today. I don’t think any of us actually know what that means but we are ready. Honestly, this could have been a competition over our hunky Surfer Brother’s or just a face off over make up style. Who knows?
But here they are, all lined up along the cliff overlooking our Crystal Pier Beach…only about 8 of them to our 15. They are dark haired, over clothed, pale skinned with ratted hair adding several inches to their height, and sporting exaggerated Twiggy eye make up with almost white lipstick.
Oh, and our foxy guys? They are here too. This is rare because the area south of Crystal Pier is insultingly named “the girl beach”, meaning long slow very flat waves, compared to Tourmaline canyon just a few blocks up the coast where the guys surf.
At the time I thought the boys were standing at a respectable distance, trusting us to handle ourselves, but now I bet it was that these adolescent boys were drawn to the possibility of witnessing females fighting.
What is that anyway?
3) Maynard’s–In those days, there was a tiny biker bar at the corner of Garnet street and Ocean Blvd. If you crossed Ocean your were ON Crystal Pier. The place was called Maynard’s. Amazingly good food, and they served meals 3 times a week for a quarter (25 cents) to minors (Hippies/surfers/street kids) out the back window.
Maynard’s in Pacific Beach, California
http://www.billpaxton.net/maynards.html
4) And last memory, for this post anyway, My favorite Runaway Place-As a kid, 7 to 13 years old, I would sneak away from my “oldest kid” duties at home and walk to the beach. Got in big trouble for that. Did it anyway.
As an adult (all of 19 years old) I ran away to that same beach again. This time it was after discovering I had become pregnant (my very first time out of the gate) and the love of my young life, had dumped me. At 5 months along, I ran away this time, with a fist full of hard-earned der weinerschnitzel and Fotomat dollars, to the cheapest motel I could find on Ocean Blvd. facing my same old beach.
I could only afford two nights and it was the longest 48 hours of my life, filled with anger, grief, confusion and terror. How would I ever raise a baby on my own working at Fotomat? I walked on the beach. I wrote in my diary. I watched the sun set. I ate at Maynard’s. (They actually fed me for free one night. I mean, what were they going to do? Turn away a crying, hungry, pregnant teenager??)
But my Crystal Pier Beach came through. I left knowing exactly what I needed to do.
What happened next is definitely for another day………
Time-WARNING to young women: rated R for terror
Time sped by this week. Time’s up tomorrow for posting on TIME. I had to work up my nerve all week. This will undoubtedly be one of my most frightening posts ever….(really scary for me but terrifying for women under 50 or so…)
I saw the actress Ali McGraw a few years back, maybe on Oprah, maybe along with Jane Fonda and Diane Keaton. The topic was beautiful older women (or over 60 women).
Ali McGraw said she had a secret to keep her face looking young. I’m sure the women watching expected surgical tips or miracle face creams but no. She lifted up her hair and pulled out this weird apparatus that was hidden there. As she slowly removed it, her face sagged more and more. With the faked tightness gone she looked much more her age, maybe older.
The women on stage with her were stunned into silence. It was a dramatic and pretty amazing difference. (It reminded me of childhood when an aunt who would brush my hair into a pony tail so tight, she would tell me, in her well-intentioned way, that I looked like a China doll.)
After a moment, a recovered, non-plussed Oprah said she thought Ali’s action was one of the most “generous” things she had ever seen a woman do.
I hope you see my personal photo sharing as “generous” and not egotistical or even worse, self-pitying. I didn’t think I was even mildly attractive until I was fifty!
ABOVE–Me at thirty, forty, fifty and fifty-five
Then the phrase the ravages of time comes to mind…..
I do not know what happened to the TIME. I do not recognize who this person above is. I don’t know what some of these body parts even are!
(Judy Collins singing in the background here…Who knows where the time goes…)
Here I go. I’m gonna push “publish” now Karuna!
Vibrant #3 for WPC
VibrantI walked downstairs to bring something to my grandsons’ shared room. They, along with their Dad, without their Mom, have recently moved in with Grandma. (That would be me.)
Here’s what I found in the 12 year old’s bed. (A relief actually…he is the mature kid who tends to take care of everyone else.)
As a friend from our Writer’s Group always says, “If this does not brighten your day, well, then I just don’t know about you.”
Wordless Wednesday 1-27-16
Optimism for WPC
I can’t think of anything more optimistic than a Primrose! They are relentlessly cheerful! And they just assume they will be back next year!
I watch for the first batch to show up every year, at my grocery store (I know, I know) and this year they are already here!
10 for $10.00!! Pretty cheap so I always load up. You’d think that because they are a perennial I wouldn’t need to replenish my own garden each year. I don’t, but I can’t resist. Some of mine are 7 and 9 years old!
This year I had this idea.
I live on a very unusual, long dead end street that’s a country-like oasis in the middle of a ritzy city. (When I moved here over 40 years ago, there were only 2 other houses and we had horse acreage! Even though my address would imply money to some, I didn’t stand out on this street as a migrating “Hippie”.)
Of course, our lane has built up over the years but we have scored big-time in wonderful neighbors. Everyone knows everyone and we all watch out for each other.
We just lost one of our dear neighbors a few days ago, an unexpected heart attack. The funeral is tomorrow. So tonight, after everyone is down for the night, I am going to plant a Primrose in every yard in honor of our sweet neighbor. They’ll probably figure out it was me because most of them know how obsessed I am with these hearty little flowers, but I don’t care. I like my reputation of being the oldest (and strangest) neighbor on our street.
Only problem is, we all have pneumonia in our house right now, so I may have to elicit some outside help for my clandestine operation. I’m still a little weak, but according to Badfish, my snot color is telling me I’m on the mend. https://badfish2.wordpress.com/
(By the way, if you haven’t read him, he’s wonderful!)
In honor of my neighbor Arul, one of the more kind people I’ve known, I give you the Primrose (and remind you of the story of Johnny Appleseed).