Drift

So, I posted a new poem at annasadhorse, Drift. Again, it's not "new" in the sense that I just wrote it, but it is new in the archive and relatively new in the order of things in as I wrote it in the last few years.

MinuteCast

9:30 PM  My daughter and I are sitting out on the screen porch, eagerly awaiting the storm but Accuweather's MinuteCast predictions keeps changing the time it will arrival at our house and reducing the severity. At first, much to our delight, they said we were in for a "severe storm" but, after several downgrades, our storm is now predicted to be a "light rain". In the meantime, the wind did pick up, which is very tantalizing. Palm trees are whooshing and, to the south, lightning is flashing in the clouds. MinuteCast just announced that the storm will be here in "four minutes". Finally! We hear thunder. Kristiana has re-positioned herself by the railing.

Florida night with flash of lightning.

Hmmm... MinuteCast changed the changed time of the storm's arrival time again. Now they're saying it will be here in "eight minutes". WTF? Last night we had a proper storm. Mind-numbing thunder cracked directly overhead. That cleared the porch. Damn. MinuteCast now only has "sprinkles" for us. Damn. Changed again. No precipitation for 120 minutes."  Ok. Enough of this. Goodnight.

C'est la vie

The Visitation.
Frida Kahlo, the Gran Ardilla

It's an established fact that I love squirrels, well all animals, but this post is about squirrels. And, this summer, as previous ones here in Florida, there are several who come every morning for the peanuts I put around Frida Kahlo, the Gran Ardilla's, memorial pineapple palm tree. But this summer, other than Ragnar Halftail, the crew is a bunch of scraggly tailed imbeciles. They're cute but dumb as rocks. And lazy. To begin with, they're being sandbagged by a cluster of enterprising blackbirds. These fellows define the term "early bird". I had to change tactics. Now, instead of scattering peanuts around the tree, I wait till the little dolts get here then I toss nuts to them from the balcony. But there's no guarantee they will notice them, even when accidentally bonked on the head by one. And, if they do notice, chances are the simpletons immediately break into a fierce up, down and around the tree battle over it while the blackbirds dive-bomb from the fronds, scoop up the nuts and take off. And these dunderheads are picky. Sometimes one grabs a nut, smells it, drops it and goes for a piece of corn instead. The birds don't seem too interested in corn so I put plenty of that out. And, if a squirrel does decided to have a peanut, they are just as likely to scamper off and bury it in grass and yes, the smarty pants blackbirds loooove that. So, c'est la vie.

Scenes from LA's Melrose and Fairfax Flea Market

July 14

My recap of our recent week in LA languishes.

Looking in on things.

It's not that that I'm trying to make it "literature".

Pink flamingos and palm trees 

Like M. Lee always says, "blog writing isn't writing".

"Don't you listen to him, honey!"

Of course, that's bullshit.

It's all good

But he's also right.

Man and man in the glass

Anyway, it's like I said, I'm still turning and tweeking photos

Flea market explorer with David and Marilyn

and not getting to the damn list of places we went.

The yellow-breasted Haggler
Habitat: flea markets, yard sales, thrift shops,
rummage sales and kool-aid stands

So here are a few from LA's Melrose and Fairfax Flea Market
for your amusement and to refresh the page.

My little problem

I am finally having to admit that I have a problem with, how do I say, cameras? It's not a technical problem. It's not the camera. It's me. I'm obsessed with taking photos. It's unmanageable. I spent the day juggling an absurd number of images from the last month alone. I (excuse me. quick pause while I take a couple of photos of some really fabulous clouds in the evening sky) 'm not kidding. It's bad. I am drowning in images. I've got to start dealing with this.

LA at night from a moving vehicle

Sky Bridge home

Sunday lunch with the Chaus at the
Hsi Lai Buddhist Monastery - Hacienda Heights, CA

posted from Bloggeroid

We're home. Or were. I'm writing this as we drive  across Florida on Alligator Alley. No. Haven't seen any alligators. They troll rest stops for handouts but this time we're on a mission and not stopping

Crossing Tampa's Sky Bridge
yesterday with Swami, Minerva and Andy.

Thanks to M. Lee's fastidious planning, the LA trip went very well. Once I download the photos I'll post a few and a recap.

Lunch at the Buddhist monastery buffet

We're out of here in 15 minutes to pick up Kathy's friends and then... well .... the title tells the rest of the tale. Photos to follow here and at Instagram. I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm totally sucked into Instagram these days. It's the Deconstructionist's fault. I joined just to see her photos and then she stopped posting. Go figure. And her blog hasn't been updated for over a year. Damn! She's my favorite blogger, and not just because she's my daughter. She's a wonderful writer.

Anyway, like I said, photos to follow, including (at some point) photos of the Airbnb place we're staying. It's pretty cool and in a great location, two blocks from the Melrose entrance to Paramount Studios. Every time we drive by it I expect to see a long black limo pulling in with Marilyn Monroe in the backseat.

LA wanderings

LA graffiti artist

We're in LA for the week but I just can't keep up with it here. As usual, we are running from morning till night. I'm dashing this off at breakfast time but we're leaving shortly and that will be the day.

Shane & Lee - James Ensor exhibit at the Getty

More photos at imgur.....

Morning notes

Leo negotiating a mealtime compromise

We think it's hard keeping track of toddlers and getting our kids to finish a meal. Try being the parent of a fledgling. This morning I watched the Mockingbird parents feeding their kids. One of the babies landed on a frond in Frida's palm tree and waited while they rustled him up a little grub then, when he'd had enough, flew off. A minute later one of the parents came back with another squiggly goodie but the baby was gone. Imagine if our toddlers could do that to avoid eating their broccoli.

"Frank, just one more bite then you can go play."

Also, all morning Sonny has been out on the screen porch ranting to his parents about how hot it is in Florida and it's only June, how he had a life in New York, ten years, how he learned all about being responsible during his forties, there, up north. His mom says something and he gets very animated about how he doesn't do anything illegal anymore but his deadbeat friends are cheating him out of a lot of money. I believe him.

Here's the thing. Sonny is a good guy at heart but his friends? I'm sure he's right. A rough lot. It's not his fault. He explains to her how, just recently, he went with some girl to help her rescue her drugged out friend and ended up getting "dragged into the middle of a situation".

"Then some guy walks up and threatens to put a bullet in my head", he says.

Also, he's upset because some strange guy just showed up on his Facebook page.

"I'm gonna erase the damn page. Everybody knows your business. People you don't even know. What's up with that? That's the most turmoil damn thing anybody could have made."

Pops is quiet but Sonny and his mom are deeply into it.

"Don't interrupt your Mother!"

"You're interrupting me."

"Can't I even talk?"

"My voice don't even matter around here, Mom! For years I've been telling you to drink that shit. You've been skinny for the last seven years but you only listen to Pam. You drink that and it's like an extra meal. It's like an extra meal throughout the day, but you only drink it when Pam tells you!"

When the conversation switches to Sonny's difficulty filling out rental contracts...

"It took 35 minutes just to fill out the damn form, then they wanted a credit card so I tore it up!"

...mom interrupts asking Sonny what he wants to eat.

"It all depends on what you want to do, Maw."

"You want pancakes with an egg?"

At this point, Pops mumbles something in a feeble voice and she yells,

"I'm not talking to you!"

Ok. Enough. The screen porch has reached sauna temperatures. BTW, if this sounds a little.... mmmmmm..... snarky..... I don't really mean it to be. First off, I would be the pot calling the kettle black. If you're a regular here you know that, by nature, I'm a total deadbeat. I get Sonny. I am Sonny. And anyway, you know... I don't judge. I just report.

Lucky Pierre and me on the job

Morning and all is well along Alligator Creek

I've been doing a lot of obits these last few days so I thought I'd better sweeten it up around here with some happy things. So, this morning Sonny is out in the screen porch running it down to his mom about everything from "bingo to food allowances, calories, getting his own room at a motel, something that's sixteen dollars a day (probably the motel room), roller derbys, how a man can't live like that, taking showers outside from a bucket, carrying water down from the neighbors, what if the pipe breaks?, living in a trailer, how you need water for the toilet, how when you flush it it needs to go out" and on and on.

Sonny's been coming and going a lot lately and I was getting worried that he might have a job or a girlfriend or something like that so today is very comforting that he spent the morning ranting in the screen porch although he did just say something about "going out there" and "work" so let's hope he's not talking about himself. I know. I'm weird but hey. Some things should stay the same, at least for now.

So, we're off to the beach for a walk. M. Lee is currently training to do a solo century, which is a long long long lonely bike ride, maybe eight hours or more in the saddle. I am impressed but it makes my back hurt thinking about it. I did go to the gym yesterday though. Anyway, yesterday he ground out 75 miles so today we are going for a cool down, in 90° heat. In fact, he just came to the sliding glass door of the screen porch and gave me "the look" so gotta go. Pardon me. No time to edit. This is a post n go.

Frostie the Snow Goat

Sadly sweet, plucky little Frostie the snow goat died suddenly a couple of days ago of complications from spinal injuries. Nevertheless, the kindness of those who rescued him and his love of life and determination to thrive is a heartwarming story for us all. Farewell, little guy.

Frostie the Snow Goat from Edgar's Mission Farm Sanctuary on Vimeo.