Reconnecting with a love

Long time no blog.  

And I miss it. 
I myself am not reading blogs so much any more but, I miss writing this one. 
I have a dialogue with you, running in my head so much of the time. I've thought about posting and then overthink it and don't. 
But I think tonight, I will start again, because I read that someone had checked to see if we were still writing. 
Sometimes in life, I say this as a 68 years old wisenheimer, you just have to do what feels right.  And, gull darn it, this just feels good. 

Life is tripping me out currently. My husband has 2 different cancers and my 95 year old father is unable to get the words in his mind to his tongue. This funnels down to looking at my own aging and how I will possibly deal with a potential life changing disease or having to eat non-organic food, without a glass of wine, in the dining room of assisted living, with a multitude of other old people at various degrees of physical and mental abilities. 

But enough of the heavy thinking. I like this blogging thing and will continue it.  I was recently reading one of my journals from 2004, and I was reflecting on marriage. The entry was on our 36th wedding anniversary. My question to myself was "How do you stay married to the same person for 36 years?". This is what I wrote:

"I don't know for sure, but perhaps you:

Appreciate the balance the other person creates in your life.

Give up competing with your spouse. (Except, of course, when you play Scrabble.)

Know your partner very well before marriage, --well, at least their good points. (At the beginning of a life-time relationship, you are blind to any defect). Knowing the other's positive traits will be very useful. At times of conflict, being able to draw on the positive, reinforces your commitment.

Decrease your expectations. Don't make so many plans. Let nature take its course. 

Bring children into your life.

Continue to have mutual goals and dreams.

Discover new places and new things together. Near or far.

Keep surprising each other.

Be thoughtful."

When I read this, I thought "I'd like to blog that", and so I have.  Thank you for your interest and encouragement. 

t.t.f.n.
~Carol 

the fair

posted by: jennifer


a huge (nervous) smile on her face as she goes airborne
    -just for a bit on the goliath slide.

the sky ride
   a.k.a. the ski lift death trap.
   complete with a woman passed on our descent and her ascent, eyes shut, seemingly 
       saying hail marys.

stalking clowns.
   green hair
   screwdriver in his hands
   music box monkey watching.

seeing the backside of thing one and thing two as they race to the swing ride, 
   squealing as they run.

a vitamix demonstration (a la costco) in the exhibit hall.
  and in the same exhibit hall dozens of people laying on mattresses being sold.

hearing "hey mom" by game booth hecklers as they try to convince me to get swindled...
   er, i mean to play their game.

a 9-11 memorial 
  questions from post 9-11 born children on why mom is crying while looking at a pile of 
   metal debris.  a mom who was taken by surprise by said display.  who didn't think twice 
   when two seconds before she passed by a firefighter standing next to a NYFD uniform...
   and then as she looks at what she is really passing by is completely overwhelmed with 
   emotion.

   and as she is trying to explain her tears,   a group of 20- somethings
   pass behind one loudly announcing "single women.  hot stuff coming through"
   and when she finally turns her head, seeing one of the men from the group 
   carrying a man sized inflatable siracha sauce bottle, there is laughter mixed with the
   tears.

the ninja knife.

the del mar fair
  (san diego county fair officially)

a bunch of random shit.
thrown together.
wrapped in bacon.
deep fried.
served on a stick.


cheers!

Just the facts, lady, just the facts

I love the tiny, amazing details of nature.

Nothing speaks to me of God as loudly 

as the brilliant design of every living thing.

Here are a few facts 

about solitary bees, Masons mostly, but others as well, that I found particularly irresistible. 

75% of bees are solitary.  Solitary means each bee tends to its own brood.

There is no Queen. There are no workers. They do not live in hives nor do solitary bees make honey. They do not swarm.  

They are harmless and non-aggressive.

Solitary bees are docile, gentle natives of the United States and Canada.

(I think John Lennon could have written song lyrics with this information.)

There are over 1,600 species of bees in California alone.

Over 4,000 species in the United States. The honeybee is not native to the United States. It was brought here from Europe, Asia, and Africa.

At night, male solitary bees will sleep on plant stems, under

leaves, or in flowers. Females may return to their nest to spend the 

night constructing new tunnels and brood chambers.

(A man may work from sun to sun, but a woman's work is never done!)

Individual pheromones help the bees identify their own nesting holes.

Female destined eggs are laid first, in the back of the nest/tube. The eggs closest to the entrance hole are males: thus the males are the first to emerge in the spring. 

Outside of the nest, the males wait for the females.  As the ladies

appear, the males mate with them.  The female mates only once, and then releases the stored sperm as she needs it. 

Bees encounter nest predation from birds, spiders, and other insects...wasps. If the nest is plundered, the larvae/pupae closest to the entrance will be eaten first. Females are more important to the reproduction of the species. Thus the males are a barrier protecting the females. This increases the survival and fitness of the species. 

Ground nesters need bare dirt. 60 -70% of native California bees dig tunnels into the soil and provision a series of nest cells.  We obstruct ground nesting bees with mulch or even worse, black plastic.

Bees need to warm up to 80 degrees for their wings to function. Mason bees' black bodies can soak up heat even when the air temperature is only 58 - 64 degrees.

One fast flying Mason bee is as efficient in pollinating as 100 honey bees!

The Mason bee has long antennae and black furry legs. They are small bees that don't look like "bees" as we normally think of them.  What cute antennae!

It's easy to enhance bee habitat on your property.
I suppose a good mantra would be
"Let it be."
(I've definitely got a Beatles songbook playing in my head today.) 
Don't be so fastidious in the garden.
Minimize lawn or mow less often.
Tolerate dandelions. (This is one that I need to work on.)

ALSO
A bee friendly yard has a lot purple, blue and yellow flowers.
These are the most attractive colors to bees.
Provide water and a mud source.
Plant a mix of flower shapes to accommodate 
different bee tongue lengths. Awww.
Plant native perennial plants.

Native bees.
Wild bees.
Solitary bees.
"All You Need Is Love".
Love is All You Need...

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol

Mason bee and Marriage Pickle

Righty-o,

where did I leave off?

Oh yes,

Solitary Bees.

But before I go into the black and white information about the bees themselves, let me share my dilemma.  A little gray area of life.

The type of Mason bee house that Duke lovingly took 15 days to make for me for my birthday is a death sentence for some Mason bees. 

Yes, in the wild the bees find just this type of dwelling to lay their eggs in.  Long holes.  Preferably, 5/16" in diameter and about 4" long. (Albeit, not grouped for human interests.) 

BUT...

if you, me or you, is hoping to increase the population of these brilliant pollinators, the beautiful type of house Duke built is not helping.

The problem is POLLEN MITES.  Mites, the curse of the world.

As I understand it, pollen mites can harbor in solid wood holes.

In the spring the female Mason bee, aka Orchard bee, collects a pea-size ball of pollen and nectar, which is gathered together within a channel...

natural or man-made.

A single egg is laid on top of this pearl.

Mrs. Osmia then builds a wall using mud, as a plaster, for sealing the nest.

The same bee goes off to collect more pollen to repeat the process.

Pollen ball. Egg. Wall. Pollen ball. Egg. Wall. Pollen ball. Egg. Wall...

until the tube is filled with eggs, provisioned with a nutritious mix of pollen and nectar.  Each tiny egg hatches and the larvae quickly begins to develop by eating the yummy food mama bee left for it.

During the summer, cocoons are spun and the larvae then pupates for the next 9 months. 

Are you still with me?

My problem is about to emerge. 

Come spring time, when the fruit trees' flowers start opening like popcorn, the adults are ready to leave their brood chambers.

If pollen mites have taken up residence inside of the chambers, trouble awaits. As the bee crawls out of the tunnel rubbing along passed them, the mites will cling to its wings. The bee is looking to begin its brief 6 - 10 weeks as an adult bee, but because of the mites on its wings, it cannot fly. The bees drop to the ground and die.

People who are "raising" Mason bees use either cardboard tubes, made and sold for this purpose, or they will make parchment paper liners for inside the man-drilled burrows.

 This is how pollen mites are controlled.

In the fall, the tubes or paper liners are removed from the housing and opened up. The cocoons are inspected for mites. If there are any present, they are brushed off, thus protecting the bee wings come spring. 

The cocoons are then stored in a cool dry place until spring.  Some people store them in their refrigerator. When the temperature warms and blossoms pop, the cocoons are set out. The bees will emerge and the process begins again.

From what I have read and seen on YouTube, the type of house Duke built isn't  conducive to the monitoring of pollen mites. And do I even want to be dealing with them? 

Yet, I certainly don't want to encourage bees to nest en-mass, if it is going to be a potential a death warrant for them.

The type of housing that is compatible to cardboard tubes or parchment liners

is constructed differently, i.e., the back comes off and the holes are drilled straight through, for access from the back of the condo for tube insertion and removal. (The chambers in my gift are only open in the front. I'm not sure if I would be able to get the liners out.)

I casually mentioned the mite problem to Duke and he's not buying it. 

Do I hang the Mason bee house and let nature take its course?

Do I try to line the holes with parchment paper liners and deal with any mites there might be? 

What is more important here? Accepting the gift given to me by my loving, sensitive husband of 47 years, without worrying about the bees that might die at the start of their adult life OR do I line the holes and deal with the possible mite problem and possible hurt feelings?

Marriage...and Nature...what a trip!

This post is already long enough. 

Black and white facts later this week.

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol

Regaining appreciation and feeling groovy

I sometimes hold onto ideas, desires, or dreams too long.

I get in a rut of thinking about something in a single-minded way.

You know, for years.

It was one of these standpoints that I changed my attitude about recently.

When we moved into our house, 45 years ago, the kitchen had just been remodeled.  The built-in oven/cook top, the highly-grained, varnished cabinets, the dropped ceiling and lighting, the brick-look floor tiles and the laminate counter tops were in style, modern, up-to-date.

Oh, so 1970's.

As these things go, the appliances have been replaced, ditto the flooring, sink, and faucet.

Not long ago, the dropped ceiling was raised back up, and redone with tongue and groove boards.  New lights were added.

But the 1970 "Daisy" counter tops still greet me every morning.

"Good morning, flower child".

How many times have I wiped those counters off?  Thousands and thousands, to be sure.

So many times that I've worn the pattern off in high use areas.

Those kitchen counters and I have a lot of history together.

In addition to preparing tons of food, and cleaning up from the making and eating of it, I have:

Bathed my babies on them,

Taught cooking on them,

Arranged flowers,

Rolled cookies,

Kneaded dough on them.

I've used them as a buffet table to serve food,

Taught responsibility using them... "(Fill in the blank with a child's name), it's 

your night to wash dishes."  Moaning and tears follow.

I've canned tomatoes, apricots, frozen boysenberries, green beans, and zucchini on them.

Various science experiments have been conducted on them.

Hot glue has been dotted it.

Yet, in spite of all the memories and many people urging me to NEVER replace the vintage counters, I have been "done" with the pattern and material for years.

The other day I received an advertisement email from Country Living magazine showing a new laminate countertop material from Wilsonart, the very company that made my countertop material.

Always dreaming of replacing the old, I went to the Wilsonart website to window shop.  While there, and out of curiosity, I looked to see if my 45 year old laminate pattern was archived. 

No, it's not.

It is still for sale!

Has this pattern come full circle or did they have so much of it stockpiled they decided to keep selling it until it's all gone?  Whatever it is, seeing it there pushed my thinking out of the trench it had been in.

I came around to appreciate this outdated part of my kitchen once again.

I still love that stunning slab of granite I saw in a Texas kitchen, with its vein of blue running river-like through it.  I love my daughter's butcher block counters.

There are many good looking surfaces to be admired. But mine is unique, and although dated, I think I'd miss it, if it was replaced.

So for now, the best counter tops for me are

"Autumn Lights Daisy" Wilsonart Y0039.

Groovy, huh?

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol

Connecting the sinking of the Lusitania and the memories from the Georgic.

I just finished reading Dead Wake by journalist and nonfiction author Erik Larson.

This nonfiction story is about the last transatlantic crossing of the luxury ocean liner, the Lusitania, in 1915.  Larson takes all the documented history and weaves it so that it reads like fiction.   He brings vitality to a cast of factual characters:

the passengers on board,

the crew,

the captains of both the Lusitania and 

the submarine, U-20, that sank it,

President Woodrow Wilson,

the secret group of Room 40, 

and the ship itself.

Larson elevates history from boring to exciting.

The first book I read of his was The Devil in the White City.  This story takes place in Chicago and reading it before going to Chicago on vacation a few years ago greatly enriched that trip.  This Lusitania story sent me on a journey of sorts, as well.

In 1950 my English mother and I crossed the 

Atlantic from New York to Liverpool aboard the Cunard Line M.V. Georgic. This was the same route that the Lusitania sailed.

Like the Georgic, the Lusitania was owned by Cunard Line.  The only reason I know the name of the ship I traveled on is because I have a menu from a tea party I attended while on board. 

The inward trip that Larson's Lusitania story launched me on is one of questions and reflections.  The questions will probably ever be answered, as my mother died 10 years ago, and my 94 year old father's memory is stuck on a few of his favorite stories.  (Plus he did not make the journey with us.)

There is not a single photo from this trip.  Can you imagine?  How I wish there was a snapshot of me on deck!  Or better yet, a picture of me and my mom together, sea breezes blowing our hair and smiles on our faces. 

We were in England for months and yet there are no photos of either of us from this time.  This makes me so sad.  The only thing I have from this trip is the tea party menu and two brief stories my mother told me.

I cannot remember my mother taking any photos in her life time.  I have no recollection of her ever having a camera in her hands.

In the photo-snapping times of now, this would never happen.

  No photos from such a trip seems beyond grasp.

There are so many questions I want to ask my mother.  Why didn't I think of them while she was alive?  (If I did ask her for details about her stories, she would brush them aside as unimportant.)

How I wish I would have been more persistent in finding out more about her experiences as an English war bride,

a young mother,

the early years of her being in this her new country, knowing no one other than my father,

and, of course, our seafaring adventure and visit to her family in England when I was 3 years old. 

I have already explored a little about the Georgic.  There is even a YouTube video of it.  And because I want to know more about this trip and my mother's early marriage, I may start digging into more resources.

I've heard you shouldn't live in the past, but it sure is nice to visit it. 

If photographs unlock memories, I'm glad I'll leave so many for my children and grandchildren. 

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol

A lesson from the chickens or easy caterpillar removal

                     
If you are squirmy about wormies, this probably isn't the blog post for you...


 I love to learn new things.   I am open to any teacher, be it 

my 5 year old granddaughter teaching me an art technique, a formal classroom learning opportunity, or

my chickens teaching me how to remove cabbage looper caterpillars from my lettuce leaves.

Last week, being so preoccupied with keeping my lettuce comfortable in the 90 degree heat we were having here in Southern California, I neglected to notice that the big, beautiful leaves of my Black seeded Simpson lettuce were looking more like doilies than vegetables.  I started looking for the culprits.  There was the frass evidence that they were eating and digesting my future salads.   And sure enough, and although their green color matched the lettuce perfectly, I spotted them.  
Cabbage loopers.  

 Being an organic gardener, I began picking the worms off the leaves.  I put them in a box to be delivered to my hens.  Some of the lettuce was so holey, I picked off an entire perforated leaf, with the caterpillars still attached, and added it to the Nellie and Amelia picnic hamper.  I picked 62 of the little gluttons off 18 plants.   (Yes, I counted the smooth, green inchworm-like caterpillars as I plucked them off.  I wanted to tell someone about how many had been on the plants and I thought an actual number made for a more realistic story. Plus worm picking can get boring, so I needed something to keep my mind involved.)  

I delivered the box lunch...

and watched as the girls enjoyed their delicacies.   I also observed that the hens would pick up a leaf and give it a shake before eating it.  The shaking caused the worms to fly off and then the hen would run to eat it before her coop-mate could get it.  This process surprised me, because when I pick cabbage caterpillars off plants they kind of grasp onto the plant and then cling to my fingers with their hairy little feet.  I didn't think a hen head-shake would dislodge them from the leaves.  And how did the hens know to do this?

I was out picking more loopers this afternoon.  I thought about the 
method the hens had shown me the day before.  I  gave the lettuce heads a  tap-tap with my hand.
 Sure enough, the gentle ruffling knocked the caterpillars off the leaves.  They fell off the plants and onto the dirt where they were both visible and easier to pick up.  Teeny-tiny caterpillars I would have never seen on the plants were easily seen on the soil.

I like the saying,

"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."    Kalam

It is true and I hope I will always be a student open to all teachers.

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol

                                         

on dodging dingle berries

posted by:  jennifer

so it always good to find the positive in a negative situation right?  and let's face it, life has a good way of throwing shit  your way every now and then.  usually,  they are little dingle berries of shit... like fortunately in my case.  but i do think that if you have practice not letting those little dingle berries stick when they come flying your way, you might have a leg up when and if a dump truck full of shit lets it load out on top of you.  wow, mrs. daly would 
love that run on sentence.  

here are a couple of my negatives that i feel i am navigating in a positive way.

first, i mentioned recently about going bald.  so i have found out more about it.  alopecia areata is its name, reeking havoc is its game.  no really.  what i have learned about this condition is as follows:
   -it is an auto immune disease (white blood cells attacking hair follicles)
   -it does not make you physically sick.  just fucks with your head.  ( ha!  i didn't even mean 
     for that to be a pun)
   -it is unpredictable.  you could have a quarter size bald spot or two where the hair grows 
     back and then you never experience hair loss again.  or it could grow back only to fall out
     again in a year.  or 5 years.  or whenever.  you could have a massive bald patch (me raising
     my hand)  and then a quarter size bald spot on the opposite side of your head (me raising
     my hand).  the point is, this is one fickle disease.  you just never know.

what i do know is that i love to wear scarves.  i have worn them for years.  and if i have to start wearing them daily, or to wear larger ones to cover more or all of my head i will.  yes, i am going to keep taking my evening primrose oil, and eating more essential fatty acid rich foods.... but i am determined not to let this get me down.  and if i can face the day with a smile after my 12 year old tells me upon waking that my bald spot is "really showing this morning" i am doing okay.

secondly, our sweet cat blue was hit by a car last week.  such a sad discovery... and we all lamented that he didn't ever have his first christmas.  so sad.  we all cried, and still look for him sleeping on one of our beds, or on the deck waiting to be let in the house.  

but, we also know that when we head to the san diego humane society today, we will likely return home with another sweet ball of fur that will brighten up our days.

here's to looking for the bright spots.
cheers!

8 days before Christmas....

Oh by golly,

these 10 things are making me holly jolly...

1. Picking up $30 in the street.

2.  Finding the perfect gift for the Duke of Earl.

 I hadn't had a clue as to what to give him 24 hours before going to the estate sale, where I scored a gift that is going to knock his socks off.

(Do you ever go to estate sales?  If not, you should give it a try.  It's a treasure hunt with potential bargains, and a great way to recycle.  And for me, they are also a poignant reminder that my stuff's value is only in the significance I place on it.  Here's a link to the estate sale site I use to find sales near me. http://www.estatesales.net/

 Remember in light of the world's diminishing resources, "any attempt to recycle instead of buying new is a foot on the brake instead of the accelerator". 

3.  An owl in our backyard.

4.  The monarch butterflies in our gardens. 

 Oh my gosh, the milkweed I planted and let have its way, is working passed my expectations.  We have monarchs in every stage of their life in the garden all the time now.  Plant some milkweed, you will not regret it.

Did you know that the average caterpillar has 248 muscles in its head?  Who counts these things?

5.  The Christmas tree in the lobby of the Grand California Hotel at Disneyland.

6.  The Santa Fe Cranberry Salsa at Rutabegorz Restaurant.  

It's their 44¢ appetizer for December.  It is served with tortilla chips.  If you live in SoCal, Ruta's is a great place to eat.   http://www.rutabegorz.com/

7.  My December tablescape,

 which I put together with no new purchases...other than the candles of course.  

I can't get a good shot of it, but here it is.

The mirror has a nice weathered look to it, because it is normally a garden mirror.  It was a hand-me-up from April several years ago and has lived outdoors ever since.  I'm liking it in the house on top of this cabinet so much, I think it will be an indoor mirror for awhile.

That's me reflected in the mirror, still in my robe.  I thought the morning light might help in catching the blend of all the tablescape's elements, but it didn't.

8.  Pope Francis.

9. Celebrating my Dad's 94th birthday. 

 ( However, I am not liking that the DMV continues extending his driver's license.)

10.  The rain we've been getting. 

For you readers who have young children, know that the Christmas' with your young children are going to be the happiest ever for you.  I hope you enjoy every magic moment.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nVMCUtsmWmQ

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol 

Beware of Cabazon dinosaurs!

This photo was taken in 1987.

We would pass by this huge sculpture, "Mr. Rex", whenever we were traveling on Interstate 10, in California near Palm Springs.  Nearby a second sculpture  named "Dinny" kept "Mr. Rex" company.

After repeated trips of children begging from the back of our van, "Can we  P~L~E~A~S~E  stop at the dinosaurs?", we finally did.

The dinosaurs were built as a roadside attraction by the then-owner of the Wheel Inn Cafe.  Claude Bell, was a Knott's Berry Farm sculptor and portrait artist, who wanted to lure travelers off of the interstate, to check out his dinosaurs.  He was hoping the curious would then remember that they were hungry, and would eat at his adjacent cafe.

Work began in 1964 on "Dinny", the first dinosaur. Bell, working essentially alone, used mostly salvaged materials to complete the 11 year building project. "Dinny", is an Apatosaurus (formerly known as Brontosaurus).  Back in the 1960's and 1970's there wasn't much going on along that stretch of freeway...no windmills generating power, no outlet malls, no casinos, no Starbucks or Taco Bell.

The only focal points on that bit of desert landscape were the landmark enormous dinosaurs and the Wheel Inn Cafe.

"Isn't it strange and sad what time can do?" (from Liane Moriary's book what alice forgot)

Mr. Bell died in 1988 and his heirs sold "Dinny" and "Mr. Rex".

Fast forward to May, 2013.  We were zipping along the I-10 returning from a river trip, when my son-in-law pulled off the freeway at the dinosaurs.

Unbeknownst to us, the simple non-commercial attraction had changed.  It is now the "World's Biggest Dinosaur Gift Store".  And there is a fenced-in museum, which costs $9 for adults, and $8 for children.  

Add to this sad development, that the dinosaurs are now being used to promote a Young Earth creationist belief.  (As in, the dinosaurs were alive about 6,000 years ago.)  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Young_Earth_creationism

So the previous quick "get the wiggles out" travel break is now a get out your wallet stop.   And with every gift shop purchase and every museum admission you buy, you are supporting a religious group, you probably don't agree with. 
Travelers beware!

Claude Bell is probably spinning in his grave wondering how the evolution of his dinosaurs ended up like this.

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol

a bit like skrillex... only not quite as hip

posted by jennifer:


holy shit balls!  i am going bald.  kind of.  

yesterday, when getting myself presentable before the afternoon pickups, i went to pull back my hair into a barrette.   i was shocked to find a kind huge bald spot behind my right ear.   i
mean truly, skrillex came to mind.  

you know skrillex.  i do because i am a wee bit hip and read rolling stone.  skrillex is a dj known for his bass drops.

me... well it appears i mostly am dropping several hundreds of hairs a day.  

now mind you, i had to leave to get the girls minutes after i made the discovery... so i didn't have time to do anything but start to worry.
  -brain tumor on the right side?
  -wacked out hormones (still a possibility)
  -what kind of wig will i get?  a realistic one... or a brilliant blue punky style. and if i do get
    a realistic one should i go with one with emerging gray hairs or just a rich brown?

driving to the schools, i had more time to think.... 

holy shit balls!

showing my husband when he got home from work.  
  me:  "i just discovered something kind of crazy"
  him:  "oh yeah"
  me:  "yeah.  i have a bald spot on my head"
  him:  "yeah.  tell me about it"....."is mine getting bigger"
     side note:  i don't even think his hair is thinning
  me: "no really.  look."
  him:  silence
  me:  " i told you."

calling my sister to tell her.  her "holy shit"  or something like that.  i love how she agrees with my freaking out.  then her telling me.   "don't google search it.  it is only going to freak you out."  she did the google searching for me.  called me back, and told me to stop running my hands through my hair.  "no really.  you need to stop."

you see, i have this habit of running my hands through my hair... when i am bored.  maybe when i am stressed. and in thinking about it, it is usually on the right hand side... behind my ear and upwards.  the last few weeks, a lot of hair is between my fingers after doing so.  i actually thought the other day  "i am going to go bald"  hahaha!  good one jennifer.  you were so right.  hahaha.  you see, i am laughing, because i want to cry.    

so now i have a list of things to try:
   cedarwood oil
   evening primrose oil
   biotin
   rosemary essential oil
   lavender essential oil

and i have been doing all i can to not touch my hair.  i saw a sign today.  the san diego river runs through our city, and there is a sign near part of it that reads:  habitat restoration in progress   do not touch.    and i couldn't help but think of my head.  but switch out habitat for hair.

so um, yeah.  a bit like skrillex.... only not quite as hip.

cheers.
   

Poo tickets as a teaching aid

Speaking of poo tickets, npr, and things I love...

Paleontologist, Louise Leakey, used a helpful analogy for geologic time on a ted radio hour broadcast last week. 

The vast scale of geologic time has always been a barricade in my brain for the appreciation for the length of geologic history.

She suggested...

Unrolling (or just thinking about) a 400 sheet roll of 

.

Dinosaurs

(Hi there!)

would not enter the scene (of geologic time) until the 19th sheet from the end of the roll.

The asteroid that "wiped" (ha, ha, ha) them out didn't hit until the 5th sheet from the end of the roll.

So stegosaurus, T-rex, triceratops, diplodocus, coelophysis and all their families,  friends and enemies were around for 14 sheets of t.p.

Mammals start arriving after the dinosaurs were extinct.  But our species doesn't come into being until the last millimeter on the last (#400) sheet of quilted, bleached white, ultra soft toilet paper.

This tangible minute-amount of toilet-paper-time (200,000 years) presents the whole history of our species.

There are multiple websites that address this teaching aid, but I had never heard of it.

And geologic time is still mind boggling when I let my thinking wander to the big, ancient history of little me, but 

it does give me a clearer understanding of just how old  I am  the earth is.  

By the way, did you know that toilet paper used to come in colors?  Yes, you could match, or at least coordinate, your t.p. color to your powder room wall color. 

Things to think about when you're visiting the loo.

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol

Fullerton's Hiltscher and Juanita Cooke Trails

I have clocked thousands of miles walking the Hiltscher and Juanita Cooke trails in Fullerton, California.

The geographic location remains constant, of course,

 but the scenery changes daily without fail.

California peppers, oaks, and pines

Sycamores, eucalyptus, and jacaranda

going through their yearly cycles.

Owls, hawks, and woodpeckers

Parrots, bluebirds, towhees, and song birds

bringing a natural calm to a crisis-fatigued world.

Squirrels, everyday, doing squirrel-ly things.
An escaped domestic rabbit occasionally.
 Coyote trying to eke out a living within dwindling habitat.

Bicyclists, joggers, and dog walkers.

Explorers, birders, and photographers in

an ever-changing parade on the well-used trails.

Oh, the things you'll see on Mulberry Street the trails...
Oh, the things I've seen...

An old man in Dove shorts with a front riding fanny pack.

 (Yes, the image in your mind's eye is as bad as the reality of it was!)

An old woman pushing forward through the dust using a walker.

(And me making a silent vow that I, too, will not be vain and will use whatever prosthetic needed, in order to keep moving both on and off of the trail.)

Gaits as personal as finger prints.

Mothers pushing empty jogging strollers, as their children
run ahead and gather sticks.

  Children riding on the shoulders of an adult.

Children in radio fliers, on tandem bikes, and on unicycles.

Photographers with elaborate "sets" for holiday and "save the date"
shoots...beds, chairs, tables, rugs, decorated Christmas trees, all under an oak.
Birders with tripods and large lenses. 
Students on assignment.

Runners with so much sweat flying, I hope their wake doesn't baptize me.
High school track teams with kids laughing and prancing along.

Some joggers (well beyond their teens) panting, heaving and wheezing so heavily, I mentally brush up on CPR. How many chest compressions per minute?  100.

People walking dogs.
People urging their arthritic dog along.  Dogs in booties. 
Dogs in strollers, dogs being carried in a front pack. ← Poor doggies.

I've seen amateur movies being filmed.
Tai chi movements flowing uninhibited.
Organized events: races, scouting, tree plantings.

There are domestic animals in the fenced properties along the trails 
or, some times, on the trail:
horses, sheep, goats, llamas, geese, chickens, dogs, and cats.

I have found feathers, a $20 bill, and contentment.
I have heard music wafting from above.

I've walked through fog,
on crunchy frost,
and in heat that causes my feet and hands to swell.

I've walked under an umbrella, 
under a full head of steam,
and under clouds that looked like spilled paint.

This time of the year my shod feet get so dirty from the dusty ground, I have to wash them when I get home.
There are a few times a winter when the mud is so bad, detours, board walks, and careful stepping is paramount. 

I see friends, family, and strangers. (People who know me, but I don't know them.  This happens when your daughter was a beloved 2nd grader teacher at the nearby elementary school.)

And, as you can imagine, there's every kind of attire to be seen, including
prom dresses, bridal gowns, jogging spandex and nylon,
prairie skirts, wife-beaters, toe shoes, an array of hats, medical face masks,
 and, Dove shorts!

I love walking the trails and never tire of the outdoor pageant.
I hope you have a recreational trail near your home.
And, if so, I hope you are able to enjoy it.

Happy trails to you.

t.t.f.n. ~ Carol