Dogs' Day at the Beach

Even though we live near the coast, our dogs have never seen the ocean. So a few weeks ago we decided it was high time to take them to see the ocean. It was a rainy day and the drive along Highway 1 was scenic and frightful, and we encountered one of the most beautifully hilarious state park employees that I've ever seen. His facial twitching and the way he'd stare into space contributed to us nicknaming him "Frogurt."

The drive took nearly two hours -- not because it was that far away, but because we couldn't find a state beach that allowed dogs on leashes. Just like most state parks. Where the flip are people supposed to walk their dogs? We need a massive letter-writing campaign to address the state about this.

We eventually found a secluded surfer beach and let the dogs out there.

Teyla and Cheech aren't sure what to make of the "big lake"

As you can see, the Toot stayed close to her mommy's legs

Poor Cheech. At one point, he turned his back on the ocean and got his legs doused by a frigid wave.

The combers

Oceanic rock

A nervous little queen

Our view as we ate lunch

On the drive back, we passed through a little town that, with the weather, reminded me of Ireland.

Thank you to everyone who commented on my last post. It was nice to hear from you all again, and I appreciate your supportive voices.

Mackenzie's Momma -- You were teaching?? Wow, what were you teaching? How'd it go?

Tracie -- I don't have kids, but I have younger siblings and have been a nanny -- so I can only imagine how frustrating it is to deal with teens who are being ornery, etc. I think every parent that survives their children's teen years without blowing up all the time is a saint!

Theincrediblemo -- I'm glad you stand up for yourself! Though there's a difference between "telling someone off" and making an already volatile situation worse. You have to make the call for yourself in every different situation, and in this one, I like to think none of us were worse for wear since the note was a subversive tactic.

Forgive our Fathers

“I can’t believe you did that. Playing with the fucking game instead of paying attention. Fuck. You’re such a fucking idiot. Sit the fuck down. Shut up before I smack you.”

This was repeated, in various forms, on the bus today. It was a father reprimanding his son, who couldn’t have been more than eight years old. The little boy walked to the front of the bus to throw away the drink he had spilled. As he walked back, I glanced up at him, and he met my gaze, his expression taut with fear, and continued past.

His dad continued to curse at him, and every once in a while, the boy would quietly defend himself or ask what he was supposed to do to make things right. His dad would bark orders and call him more names. He had him use his sweatshirt to soak up the spilled drink.

And I just sat there, listening. Everyone in the seats around me sat there listening. Everyone pretended it wasn’t going on. At several moments, I felt sure that I had the courage to turn around and ask the man if there was something I could do to help, even if it meant he would re-direct his anger at me – at least it wouldn’t be at his son.

I grew up with a father who was prone to spats of yelling and cursing and violence. I know what it is like to fear someone you look up to and love so much. And the fact that this man was threatening to hit him in public made the situation worse – if he was that bold in front of strangers, what was he like behind closed doors?

I was disgusted with myself for just sitting there, even after the father quieted for a long stretch of the one hour bus ride. I thought of all the times when, as a little girl, I would step up in the defense of another child who was being picked on. I made an effort to befriend the misfits. Why? Because something very strong in me told me that it was wrong to let others be mistreated – even when I was a kindergartener. I idolized Martin Luther King, Jr., and knew the meaning (but not the words) of his “I Have a Dream” speech. As I got older and hung out with more “popular” kids, some of that morality faded, and I no longer so openly defended others for fear of being attacked myself.

But today on the bus, President Obama’s words that “we are our brother’s keepers,” wormed into my heart, and I used his request that we help one another, to make a new America, to lend me courage. As Gandhi says, “be the change you seek in the world.”

I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote the little boy a note:

You are special. You are beautiful. Even when you hurt.

We all must forgive our fathers someday.

Follow your dreams. Never give up.

I handed it to him as he got off the bus. His father had calmed down considerably by that point, and was being rather affectionate, undoubtedly feeling guilty for his outbursts earlier. I saw the little boy open the note and read it. I’m sure some of it was way over his head, but I wanted him to know that though we were silent, we heard, and that though he may feel so small, he can be as big as he wants to be. His father glanced at the note over his shoulder then looked away. The boy folded it up again and I was too timid to look in their direction.

A young man across the aisle from me leaned over. “Did you give him a note that says ‘It’s not your fault your dad’s an asshole?’”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Nice.”

They got off the bus and walked to another bus stop. I saw the little boy unfold the note and read it again. His dad lit a cigarette and took the note from him and read it as well. Yeah, buddy. That note was for you, too.

They were hugging and playing with a yo-yo as we drove off.

Sometimes people don’t realize how much hurt they’re inflicting with their anger.

I didn’t tell the bus driver that I had heard him threaten his son because I know that some men are volcanoes that need to occasionally erupt, over small things, but that they still love their children. Maybe that’s not good enough (and there is no excuse for harming your child, physically or verbally) but things might not always be as bad for those two as they seemed on the bus today. I didn’t want to do something that would potentially break up their family. But maybe I should have.

I like to think I helped, even just by showing the boy that he wasn’t alone, and by letting the father know that I heard, and that I found him unacceptable.

Forgive our Fathers from Smoke Signals (music by Ulali)

Mackenzie’s Momma – You’re still here! :D But those classes sound so poopy! :( I hope that, once the weather warms up a bit, you’ll be able to spend more time with your goaties. I know what unique personalities goats have, and how fun it is to just sit and watch the curious cloven critters poke about!

Lullabies for Horses

I haven't blogged in a while, so I thought I'd write about my day, because it was one of those quiet, rare treasures.

I started off by eating what has become my regular breakfast -- Honey Bunches of Oats with a big handful of organic blueberries on top. I've been eating them every day for over two weeks now and swear I can feel the antioxidants helping me. It's probably all in my head, but still.

Then I went to my first intermediate ukulele lesson at the local senior center. My two friends from the beginners class and I bunched up in the corner, looking at all the others who had been in the intermediate class for God knows how long. We felt so inadequate, and they all seemed to know each other and were having fun chatting after the two week break between classes.

We shuffled into the library, where our lessons are, and helped set up. We were used to having a class of 4 -- now it is at least 20! But with so many playing and singing at once, our John Denver songs sounded pretty good!

I'm the only one in the room with color in my hair, but I adore it. My grandparents are gone except for my paternal grandmother who lives with us, and I help take care of her. But there is something very comforting about being in the company of other elderly people, as well. Most people my age don't get the chance to interact with older people on a day to day basis, much less talk with them, and that is a huge shame. I truly believe we would be a better society if more respect was paid to our elders and the wisdom and life lessons they can share.

After I got home, I helped my grandma by cleaning for her -- dusting, vacuuming, washing the floor, washing dishes, doing laundry -- listening to her stories from when she was young. She tends to remember those most vividly. She told me of how my father was born.

She was married when she was 21, so she must have been pregnant around 22 or 23. At 25, am I lacking or what? I can't even see myself getting married... ever. She had eaten cantelope and started to feel like her stomach was upset. She threw up, and after that she felt a little better, so she thought it was just indigestion. She was sitting on the porch when a woman she was lifelong friends with (from elementary school to the day she died) stopped by with her husband. They figured out that she was going into labor and called my grandpa, letting him know that they were taking her to the hospital.

I was pretty hungry after that, so I made lunch. I'm usually either to hungry or too lazy to put any effort into food preparation (unless it's a dessert in which case I go all out) but today I actually took the time to put mustard and mayo on the bread (I usually just slap the meat and cheese and lettuce in the sandwich then eat it) before I layered a slice of swiss cheese, a slice of pepperjack cheese, two slices of turkey meat, and fresh, home-grown sprouts. I mixed up some chocolate milk and grabbed and handful of pita chips and was done!

I set my lunch on the table outside, glancing around to make sure Chee Chee was nowhere in sight, then dashed back inside to quickly change out of my jeans and into shorts since it was in the low 70s. You can probably guess what happened next. I ran back out to find that Comanche had slunk out of nowhere and was eating my sandwich. "He even at the sprouts!" I shouted to my mom when she asked what I was screaming about as I watched him murder my lunch. "He doesn't even like vegetables and he ate the sprouts!"

I marched back inside and made another sandwich. But of course you know that the best sandwich in the world was the one Chee Chee ate. I went back out to eat it and Cheech had the gall to sit and beg with his adorable eyes, looking as if he hadn't eaten in months. He's one of the best liar's I've ever met.

I then read part of a book for homework, sharing the sun on the deck with my mom. Though I live at home, I don't always feel like I get enough time with her without something needing to be rushed off and done, so it was pleasant to just sit and enjoy each other's company. But there were three others I feel I don't get to spend time with often enough...

I headed down to the barn and sat on an overturned bucket in Mickey's stall. When we spend time with our horses, it's usually when we're riding or preparing to ride or cleaning their stalls. We don't often just hang out, which is sad. I'm going to make an effort to do it more often. Mickey gives the best hugs in the world. I wrap my arms around him and am flooded with peace blossoming within. Though we didn't buy him until I was 3 or so, I can't remember life without Mickey, my big brother. I've known him longer than I've known any animal and he always lifts my heart.

I read a good chunk of my book, Writing Down the Bones, Mickey stood beside me, his head and eyes drooping as he relxed in the small patches of sun on his back. Houdini reached over the fence from his stall, occassionally nipping the top of my head, wanting a reaction out of me, the curious, playful, intelligent brat. His momma Sparrow would come and go, losing interest in me then regaining it.

At one point I glanced over at Mickey and noticed green drool danging from his lip. I smirked and scratched his cheek and he started -- apparently he was beginning to doze. He smacked his lips and swallowed the drool.

A little while later I began to sing one of my favorite songs, a lullby in Swahilli, as I read. Mickey began to walk away on the second verse and I thought "my singing is that bad, bud?" But then he paused a foot or two from me and laid down. He rested his chin on the sand and perked his ears to me, his eyes drooping. I was singing him to sleep. I sang him to sleep.

It made me remember when I used to sit on the edge of his pipe corral and sing to him, and how he would rest his head in my lap, and how as I continued to sing he would let the full weight of his head fall into my lap, and I would squeal and shove him away because it was crushing me. Sweet, silly boy!

I nearly finished my book, though I was only supposed to read half for this week, then baked peanut butter cookies. I took some out to my grandma then went for a 30 minute run in the dusk. I was running atop my moonshadow by the end.

I ate dinner. I showered and washed my hair. I played the Sims on my sister's computer and had my Sim Teyla put on magic glasses to try to help her become better friends with Laura Cadman, my sister's Sim. For some reason the two hate each other. The glasses worked at first then backfired when Teyla tried to hug Cadman and was rejected. Ooops...

Then it was time for Stargate Atlantis! We watched "Critical Mass" -- the music in that episode is beautiful and the best Joel Goldsmith has ever done in Stargate. And I love Rachel Luttrell's voice. Definitely one of my very favorite episodes!

Cookies for dessert. Brushing and flossing. Checking e-mails and updating the blog while chatting with Padfoot. Life! Beautiful life!

I think this post is more for "me," but if anyone else read it, I hope they enjoyed it, as well.

Oh, Glorious Day!

Me, Leanne, Tanya and Alisia all had a blast

Today was magnificent. I was looking forward to the Inauguration, but wasn't expecting so much heartfelt joy. We already knew Obama was going to be President, so there isn't much logic to it... but by the gods, it felt as if the majority of the nation had breathed a huge sigh of relief and shouted out in jubilation.

I met up with some friends by the county courthouse for a celebration sponsored by The Women's International League for Peace and Freedom (and MoveOn.org). It's no secret that I live in a very liberal area, and the decorations for the Inaugural celebration certainly reflected how most people around here feel.

I genuinely do feel sorry for George Bush!

The crowd was pretty small when we first arrived.

Some of the musicians and revelers

A 15-foot tall Lady Liberty was one of the stars of the event.

She's still being put together

The smaller crowd at the beginning:



I was delighted when the first sng played was one of my all-time favorites -- "This Little Light of Mine." I remember singing this in the shower when Obama won the Iowa caucus at the beginning of the primaries.

Many humorous, charming songs about the changing of administration were sung by one of the coolest bands ever -- The Raging Grannies.

The Raging Grannies themselves!

The speakers were all powerful and moving, but I only had enough memory to film bits and pieces. Here is the beginning and a middle portion of Ekua Omosup's beautiful speech:

Notice the guy on the bike? He's powering the sound system.

An elderly African American woman came over to her car by Steven and I and paused to look at us, saying "Boys and girls, did you ever think you would see this day?" If my heart so joyously swells on this glorious day, then I can hardly fathom what she must have been feeling.

The California bear flag

And a man whose name I don't remember who read a poem. He asked us for a moment of silence for Oscar Grant (though be careful -- I haven't had any desire to watch the clip myself), recently murdered by the police in a city near us.

We Shall Overcome

The Raging Grannies then played again:

Even dogs love Obama!

Participants were encouraged to create signs that reflected the change they would like to see under the Obama administration.


Then we were off, marching into downtown. The most amazing experience was witnessing the sheer, honest joy felt by so many. Hundreds of cars honked, the people waved, some shouting Obama's name.

The parade and the happy cars



Steven and I didn't mind that it was randomly 80 degrees in January -- we were having too much fun!

A lad and his dream

I loved how many kids got to be a part of this.

The randomness of the dog sticking its head out of the van makes me laugh so hard

Liberty boogies:

These ladies are dedicated to cleaning up the country

A glimpse of the onlookers, many of which joined in the parade. Our numbers just kept swelling!

Leanne the Beautiful

The Planned Parenthood staff was rocking out

Look! It's President Obama himself, rocking out with us! Whoo hoo!

Lady Liberty

Old friends or new friends. It doesn't matter. We all felt like good friends today.

Many we passed were filming us. In this age of technology,cameras abounded! Even people driving past.

People were also looking out of every high window, waving and cheering. Jubilation!

Look in the second highest tower!

After the parade stopped, the drumming and music continued, and we fully enjoyed ourselves as Lady Liberty, a woman on stilts, and the cardboard President Obama rocked out before us.

At first I was upset that my memory card was full before I could film the scene, however it gave me an excuse to tuck my camera away and to enjoy the moment. I think I will forever.

Summer in January!

That's more of a grimace. Though the numbness eventually takes away the pain.

As some may recall, this time of year last January was quite the storm. This year we're in a cloud of high pressure, with days in the 70s and low 80s, nights in the 30s. Great, right? I mean, most of the rest of the country is freezing in record Arctic colds! But, believe it or not, the sun is not so welcome here in northern California. Other than the fact that last year's drought already gave us a six month summer, we're getting even less rain this year. Even less rain means more drought, which means an even worse fire this season than last year. Given that my family always makes fun of me for even announcing that I smell smoke, I don't know if my nerves could take it. But hey, at least every time I say I smell smoke, I actually do. I have a good nose!

Here are some lovely shots Alex took from our day at the beach in January. It was great being there while it was so deserted. Even if the water was freezing!

Another great thing about the beach being practically deserted is the fact that there aren't many people around to be blinded by winter-pale skin...

We also saw part of a dead crab. My inexplicable fear of crabs has been passed down to Alex, as you can see in this glimpse of our flight.

And... this is what a recession looks like. The store at the end, Mervyn's, is going out of business. If you look closely, you'll see this one has already been shuttered. It's been sad, since for years that was the only affordable clothing store. We'll miss you, Mervyn's!


I'm excited for Tuesday! There's an event going on downtown that afternoon that I'm planning on attending. Anyone else planing on celebrating the Inauguration?

We're Either Retards or Geniuses

You guys oughta read this article. It pissed me off so much that I'm postponing working on my new short story to come out of my blogging recession (pun intended). The article states that, based on a psychological study, our brains are hardwired to find conflict between God and science. Not only are the sampling of tests conducted to determine this biased, but apparently those of us who have no quarrel with science and God are idiots.


"'We can only believe in one explanation at a time,' she told LiveScience. So although people can report explicitly, "Look, I’ve been a Christian all my life, and yes, I also believe in science and I am a practicing chemist," the question is, are these people really reconciling belief in God and science, or are they just believing in one thing at a time?'

When it comes to the ultimate questions, it's really just one thing at a time, Preston says.
People rarely think about these problems, however, so most people live their lives without paying much attention to how the universe started or how life began, Preston said."

See? Those of us who understand that science explains the physical, tangible world, and that religions address the intangible and the spiritual are really just retards who don't think about these things long enough.

Perhaps I found this claim particularly insulting because I'm working on a novel for my thesis that specifically addresses many of the "big questions" through metaphor and, well, through some not-so-subtle means. And my ideas are pretty wacked. Others have addressed these issues far better than I -- isn't that all of art and human expression when it comes down to it? King Lear, Lord of the Rings, Moby Dick, even Tuck Everlasting. Oh, and a few little poems like The Iliad and Beowulf. But I guess we're wrong. Whatever it is in us as hominids that made us decide to ceremonially bury our dead all those millions of years (and species) ago apparently turned us into perpetually-conflicted morons. Never mind what that could say about the current state of the world.

But don't get me wrong -- I'm not a very good example for this study. I don't believe in God. I'm not a Christian and do not belong to any organized faith. I was raised by scientists who never pressured any of their children to go to church (despite my father being a Christian) or choose a belief system. Though I suspect repeatedly being told I was going to Hell by my classmates from Kindergarten-high school made me somewhat biased against the Christian death-cult.

I do believe, however, that there is something essential to life that sets a life apart from the purely physical. A spirit, a soul, an energy -- these are all ways we describe the divine in us that innately understands the world. Most people choose religious explanations over scientific ones because they are simplistic and emotionally-satisfying (no, unlike the article, I'm not attempting to call a group of people stupid -- just in need of comfort). That's fine. That's one side of the coin. The other side of the coin is the scientific explanation.

And no, science does not "know everything." In fact, science is incredibly dynamic, and every fact or claim purported by science is preceded by the unspoken statement of "based on what we know, ____ is a fact." The problem is, most people who have a bone to pick with science either don't seem to understand the fact that it's a constantly-changing, evolving, refining body of knowledge, or are so ignorantly blind to this because of the emotional ties to their religious belief system that they don't care.

And emotional ties can be much stronger than tangible evidence. Those motherfuckers in Iraq and other Middle Eastern nations, going on jihads and blowing themselves up for the sake of their religious beliefs, murdering countless others, are prime examples. Sorry -- I have very little capacity to try to understand or tolerate such an extreme perversion of any belief system.

The opposite side of the spectrum is to read the article with F. Scott Fitzgerald in mind. "The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function." So in that sense... those of us with a dual mind are frickin' geniuses.

Though there's another helpful quote by the same writer:

"Either you think, or else others have to think for you and take power from you, pervert and discipline your natural tastes, civilize and sterilize you."

I'm still angry, so I need to go listen to my favorite Bob Marley song to calm down before I write again. Check it out:

No Woman No Cry

Peter Parker and Bruce Wayne

...I really should update this more often. I've been kept busy by Spider-man and Batman. Check it out:

Peter Parker's Bad Day
(music by Viggo Mortensen. Yes, Aragorn. When you hear it... you'll know that he's as weird as I am)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Vacationing With Alfred and Bruce Wayne
(I'll be the first to admit that this one didn't turn out half as funny as it seemed in our heads)



Part 2

I love Batman. I can't tell you how much... especially Christopher Nolan and Christian Bale's interpretation of the mythology. But as much as I love Batman and wish he were my boyfriend... I wish more that Alfred were my BFF. I love you, Alfred!

Hope you all had a fun and safe holiday!

Mackenzie's Momma -- LOL no rush about the recipe! And glad to be informative! I was feeling like crap when I wrote that so I know that post was all over the place... so if you're interested, I suggest a bit more research on your own would turn up a lot of interesting pagan customs!