Category: Musings

Celebrate The Small Things

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I joined another Blog Hop. This is a good ‘un.  So every Friday I’m going post something I want to celebrate that I achieved in that particular week. If you’re interested in signing up, check host Vikki’s post  here!

So here’s what I want to celebrate. I finally went to Chiropractor Tim. I love getting “straightened” out, it’s always such a relief, and get this, I get a free massage along with the adjustment! But for all the lamest reasons in the world I always put it off until I can’t turn my head, or until I’m crawling on all fours. What is that about?

Anyway, so not only do I get relief and much soothing (well, unless I get Olga The Terrible as my masseuse and she rips out a couple of back muscles in her enthusiasm to loosen me up, but she does put them back nicely I must add), I have a fabulous conversation about writing and learn more about Tim’s almost completed novel.  Oh, and on the way home I stop at 85°C Bakery Cafe, a Taiwanese chain of bakery/coffee shops. The line was out the door, but I didn’t care, a medium iced Sea Salt Coffee with its inch of cream on top was worth the wait!

 

There’s Goats in Them Hills

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Every year around this time, The Goats come to my area of Laguna Beach. Of course they might actually live in Laguna Beach and never leave. But this is The Season when they bring their delightful little vegetation munching selves to the hills around my house. They’re here to help prevent another fire like the one in ’93 that decimated Canyon Acres, not to mention a great portion of Laguna Beach, a conflagration that barely missed my house.Misc 020It was our house back then, when the ex was captured on Channel 7 trying to save our street, which is right off Canyon Acres. I was at work in Newport Beach watching him on TV, freaking out about my cat, Para. Had he found her? He had. She was safe in his van along with our dogs, Suki and Salem, and a few hastily grabbed items. After parking the van in the lot off Third Avenue, he and a neighbor sneaked back through the police barrier to see what they could do. I never want to go through that again.

So back to the goats. Right now they’re up above the Lesser Hill, so named by me; it’s the one that parallels Laguna Canyon Road, a wonky paved lane that takes me around 30 minutes to hike, (not The Big Hill, which takes over an hour). There’s the three-foot high plastic orange fencing you could blow over with a breath strung between flimsy metal posts and behind it the goats masticating like mad. And making human sounds. There are a couple of YouTube videos devoted to this phenomena.

All in all the goats are a trip. I watched this one goat–not the one whose picture I’ve posted–lift himself onto his hind legs to get to some tasty leaves on the lower limbs of a tree and stand there chewing until he was done. No wobbling around, no struggling to balance like I do in Warrior Three. He just stood there perfectly poised. Munching until he was done.

Fergie and Jake were absolutely fascinated by the goats. I took them all the way up to the barrier and they just stood there staring.  Dogs Who Stare At Goats.

Wanderlust

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This is the first of three posts from around this time last year when me and my buddy Laural spent a couple of days in the Los Angeles area on an adventure. It must be the time of year, or something, but I’ve got the bug again to go somewhere. Anywhere. Will have to make a plan.

Bad news. My little holiday up to Portland has been canceled, family illness. So, since I already have someone to babysit Jake and Fergie, me and girlfriend Laural are off to spend Saturday and Sunday nights in La Ciudad de la Reina de los Angeles,  better known as Los Angeles, mother to that den of iniquity, Babylon, or as it is known officially, Hollywood.  The city where stubby, stogie-smoking Mr. Klein, owner of the Astra Cinema in Nkana, Zambia, used to travel to get his movies and hang with the likes of Marilyn Monroe, or so he boasted. I would’ve tried to touch his always impeccable suit sleeve in the hope that some of that American juju would rub off on me, but those slimy looks he gave me and my friends put me off.  Hollywood is also where my youngest son, Layne, my buddy, my pal, at fourteen, played guitar for the the Oziehairs at the Whiskey A Go Go. Juvenile delinquent. But we’re not going to Hollywood.

This is where we’re going, subject to serendipity: The Hammer Museum, The Annenberg Space For Photography, and J. Paul Getty Center. So far I have two places lined up for dinner. For the first night, Border Grill–Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger’s modern Mexican restaurant in Santa Monica. Here’s what I’m thinking of ordering: Quinoa Fritters: crunchy aztec grain,  cotija cheese, aji amarillo, and/or Teradito Verde Peruvian Ceviche: tomatillo, lime, jalapeño, cilantro, red onion, mango, and/or Watercress, Jicama, Orange Salad: bacon wrapped dates stuffed with chorizo and cabrales blue cheese, toasted coriander vinaigrette.

For our second night, Tar & Roses, which is also in Santa Monica. Ever since I read Jonathan Gold’s write-up in the Los Angeles Times about this place, I’ve been itching to visit.  It’s a gastropub with “elevated bar snacks.” Everything is passed through their wood burning oven. The following dish got my mouth watering right off the bat. Bone marrow with pickled onion marmalade,  sea salt and toasted sourdough bread.  And then how about this one as described by Jonathan Gold: “English peas drizzled with oil, sprinkled with sea salt and roasted until the tough pods collapse into sweetness and the peas inside become smoky little sugar bombs, like edamame as re-imagined in CinemaScope by David Lean.” And then there’s the shellfish pot: fresh shrimp, mussels and scallops poached in Thai-inflected coconut curry, which brings a “gentle end to a fiery meal.”  Only thing, this dish is for a party of four. Damn.

City of Angels here we come.

 

Ten Onomatopeia For World Travelers

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I’ve finally mastered the word onomatopeia (words whose sounds suggest their meaning). You’re thinking what a dipshit, hasn’t everybody? It is kinda hard to spell, though, don’t you think? Anyway, so you can imagine my delight when I came across an article in Mental Floss, pictorially depicting the sounds other languages give to the noises we hear. (Okay, I wasn’t actually delighted, let’s just say relieved that I’d found something to blog about–the 30-day blogging thingy I’m doing. It is kinda interesting. Sort of?)

  • In Korea, trains go chic chic pok pok (in Zambia our trains went chook chook)
  • Mampf, mampf says a German man eating a plateful of bratwurst
  • Russian dogs? Gav gavi
  • A Japanese fire doesn’t crackle, it goes pachi pachi
  • The French snore is hard to sound out–ron pshs
  • A Thai party with streamers, and a Thai girl with a pagoda on her head, goes suaan saeh haeh haa–that’s some serious partying
  • A Latin punch (excuse me?). They’ve got a Roman Centurion with mouth open and thrusting a closed fist with the words, tux tax
  • My favourite one is the sound the Georgian pig makes: ghrutu ghrutu
  • When a Latvian bubble bursts is goes bliuks
  • And a Finnish evil laugh? kakat taa with inflections above the A’s

Do you have any interpretations to add (challenge?). Maybe even just your own family’s rendition of certain sounds?

 

 

 

Book Review–A Land More Kind Than Home

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Let me just preface my review by telling you that the only reason I read A Land More Kind Than Home, was because it was chosen by the book club I just joined. Crazy, I know considering the stack of unread books by my bedside, those on my Kindle and the mile-long list I keep adding to. I joined because I thought it would be a great opportunity to read books I ordinarily wouldn’t read. A Land More Kind Than Home definitely qualifies in that regard. Anything to do with religious fanaticism drives me absolutely crazy. Two pages in I almost bailed. But I had to know what came next. The writing is compelling, strong, and lyrical, though sometimes the descriptions are a little too long-winded.

This is a story of the power of faith, community responsibility, family secrets, marriage and infidelity, told in three voices: Jess, a sweet innocent ten year old, who wants to protect his mute brother, Stump; Adelaide, the town midwife who tries to protect the children from Pastor Chambliss, a man who cares for nothing but his own pleasures, who uses the ignorance of his flock to get what he wants, and Clem, the town sheriff who has his own burdens to bear. Despite the efforts of Jess and the old lady to protect Stump and the love of his father and mother, things go awry for the boy.

INTJ

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That’s an acronym for one of the sixteen personality types from the Myers-Briggs Type Test. What it means is: introversion, intuition, thinking, judgment. That would be me, at least according to the test I took about thirty years ago. And get this, INTJs are one of the rarest of the sixteen personality types, and account for about 1–4% of the population.  Scary.

The Myers-Briggs Type Test assessment was developed from the work of prominent psychiatrist Carl G. Jung in his book Psychological Types. Jung proposed a psychological typology based on the theories of cognitive functions that he developed through his clinical observations. So this is what he came up with. I’ve added comments in italics when I think the quality doesn’t apply to me. And let me just say right now. Mastermind? Me? Seriously? Hey, I didn’t lie on the test, you know.

  • I – Introversion preferred to extraversion: INTJs tend to be  quiet and reserved. (NOPE) They generally prefer interacting with a few close friends rather than a wide circle of acquaintances, and they expend energy in social situations (whereas extraverts gain energy) (SO TRUE)
  • N – Intuition preferred to sensing: INTJs tend to be more abstract than concrete. They focus their attention on the big picture rather than the details and on future possibilities rather than immediate realities.
  • T – Thinking preferred to feeling: INTJs tend to value objective criteria above personal preference. When making decisions they generally give more weight to logic than to social considerations (OR OTHER’S OPINIONS)
  • J – Judgment preferred to perception: INTJs tend to plan their activities and make decisions early. They derive a sense of control through predictability, which to perceptive types may seem limiting.  (SO WHERE DOES MY WILDASS IMPETUOSITY FIT IN?)

Michael W. Roberts has a great blog titled “Are Extroverts or Introverts More Likely to Face FOMO  (fear of missing out)”–to which I responded “I used to have a bad case of FOMO, not so much anymore (older and um wiser?) and I’m an introvert. But I can only take so much of being “out there” interacting and then I need to retreat to be alone in order to regenerate, otherwise it takes a real toll on me.” 

I was going to post this mini test to help you decide your type, but it was very limited and not helpful at all.  Besides, in this day and age, hasn’t everybody taken the Myers-Briggs? So, since you took the test have you changed in any way?

Recapping Interesting Posts

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Today, I get to recap interesting posts from around the blogathon. I loved this one called Sadie the Sloppy Kisser. It’s about a pound puppy, a sweet, gentle giant of a dog, yup, called Sadie.  Read the post, it’s wonderful with great pictures. The other blog I enjoyed was from a Swede living in California, Maria Norcutt, Discovering Ranch Life Photography, the post was about her Icelandic Horse Pjakkur, love the shaggy hairdo–the horse’s not Maria’s–gorgeous photos.

And this one from Wonderfully Women with a powerful facial masque from the kitchen using honey and lemon. A good ‘un.

 

Ch-ch-ch-chia!

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Do you remember Chia Pets? They became popular back in the 1980s following the 1982 release of a ram, the first widely marketed Chia Pet. This was an American styled  terracotta figurine used to sprout chia seeds, which grow within a couple of weeks to resemble the animal’s fur or hair. Moistened seeds of chia (Salvia hispanica) are applied to the grooved terra cotta figurine body. The catchphrase sung in the TV commercial as the plant grows in time lapse was “Ch-ch-ch-chia!” As of 2007, approximately 500,000 Chia Pets were sold annually. And continue to sell. There’s even one of Britney Spears!

A better place for chia seeds is in your tummy. For the past four months, I’ve been adding a handful to my morning mix of granola, raisin bran, and milk. The milk makes them swell a little. They add a bit of a nutty taste, though that doesn’t quite describe it. You can also add them to smoothies.

Promoted as an ancient superfood, chia seeds date back 500 years to the Aztecs. Loaded with Omega 3 oils, protein, fiber, calcium and other nutrients, chia seeds are a complete food according to Self Nutrition Data. They also play a significant role in healthy brain function and lower the risk of cancer, heart disease and arthritis. A warning for any nutritional food, including chia, is that moderation is a key to avoid possible disadvantages.

Wellness, an online health resource, warns on the use of chia seeds for people with low blood pressure or taking medications for heart conditions, to avoid additive effects. It also warns that individuals taking blood thinners may have an increased bleeding risk. Chia also may alter the way the liver breaks down medications, which can lead to ineffectiveness of the drug.

I didn’t know that! Typical me, to jump in and try something and then find out later. Thank goodness I don’t taken any medications. Phew!

 

Happy Birthday Bro’!

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My brother Garth (call me Mac) turned 60 today. When he was born they told my parents he probably wouldn’t live past 20 and if he did, he would never be capable of taking care of himself, too many things wrong with him. But at 28, when our parents died, he not only took care of himself, he also cared for a partially paralyzed woman he worked with at a subsidized facility in Durban where they both made chairs. Here’s a scene from my upcoming memoir Loveyoubye, in which he plays a crucial part.

I ran the bathwater then lay there thinking about my brother. He was never far from my thoughts. Jiminy Cricket. That’s what I called him; he was a dead ringer for the Disney character: head too big for his bird-like body, all that thick black hair, and when he wasn’t crying or vomiting, he chirped. His hair turned into a dark brown as he became older, but his body never quite grew into all that hair. He had thick lustrous eyelashes and dark liquid eyes that killed when he looked at me in bewilderment. His mental impairment made me anxious all the time. I didn’t want him to get his feelings hurt, but mostly I didn’t want him to embarrass me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAC!!! Thank you for teaching me so much.

Favourite Apps

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Or more correctly, “Applications.”  I have an iPhone 3GS. Okay, so my favourites are as follows:

  • Maps (if you’ve read any of my blogs, you’ll know why this one is Number one–I get lost going to my own toilet)
  • Notes–I would die without this one–it’s Number 1a–got to capture all those thoughts and ideas that flit through my hummingbird brain, along with important information or some wise quote. For instance, my pond is 8 X 5 and 4 feet deep (I always forget when it comes to buying pumps), and this: “We worry only about exactly those things we can never do anything about. And then that very fact becomes something else we worry about. The cycle goes on and on until we let the mind give over to something larger–wiser–than itself.” ~ Pico Iyer.  At some point that must have spoken to me.
  • I used to like “Narrative“–it’s an excellent on-line literary magazine with fabulous writing–but I’m pissed at them right now because I didn’t win their Winter competition. To hell with them.
  • Fandango–movie locations and times. Not that I use it a lot, I’d like to, but I can’t seem to get away from my busy little life.
  • IMDB–International Movie Database. I use this one a lot.
  • Overdrive–when I can figure out the damn library site, definitely not user-friendly–I listen to books while I hike the hill.
  • Podcasts–this is a brilliant little app. I listen to the following free podcasts: The New Yorker Fiction, Selected Shorts from PRI, Litopia After Dark, The Moth, and Radio Lab.
  • What’s App–It’s a cross-platform (whatever that means) mobile messaging app. All I know is that’s how I communicate with my son in South Africa. Love it.

What I’d really like is an app that actually records my thoughts. Wouldn’t that be oh so splendid?