Full and happy

Los Angeleno by birth, Northwesterner by choice, Second-hander by nature. Librarian, housebound chef, father, and lowly subject ruled over by the needs and whims of a very old house.
Partial to Mexican, Italian and Vietnamese cookery but will eat damn near anything. Collector of many strange things..the result is chaos and anarchy and a very pleasant place to live.
There is pleasure in accumulation, not just "collecting": music, books and film, in all their multi-formated glory. Outsider artists and those kinds of prints you would recognize if you took liberal studies classes in college. Cooking implements and gadgets for recipes still untried or those ventured. Glasses for most types of libations. Flowers in the garden, herbs in the pot.
It's a life of the senses and a good home life reflects that. Walking helps take in all the rest. Requires no special equipment, opens up the pores, brightens the taste buds, clears the decks for further adventures, puts on the miles, widens the eyes and helps fuel the imagination.

Live boldly, play graciously and love with all your heart knowing that true love comes only once or twice in this lifetime. Speaking of which..donde estas, Empress of my Heart?


"Lack imagination and miss the better story" Yann Martel

"Life is a great adventure and I want to say to you, accept it in such spirit. I want to see you face it ready to do the best that lies in you to win out. To go down without complaining and abiding by the result....the worst of all fears is the fear of living." Theodore Roosevelt, Jr.

"Not I - not anyone else, can travel that road for you
You must travel it for yourself" Walt Whitman

And above all, friends should possess the rare gift of sitting. They should be able, no, eager, to sit for hours-three, four, six-over a meal of soup and wine and cheese, as well as one of twenty fabulous courses.

Then, with good friends of such attributes, and good food on the board, and good wine in the pitcher, we may well ask,

When shall we live if not now?

-From Serve it Forth,
M.F.K. Fisher

Saturday, August 3, 2013

Every day brings another one

Another ass whuppin', that is. I feel that everyday something is out there in line to dole another one out to me. Another issue with the car, a paycheck that doesn't go anywhere, groceries that cost too much, relationships that soar then fizzle. That little house in the back was another one this morning. Oh, so much junk! I figure I do two more mornings like the one I had this morning and most everything will be moved out. It'll look like hell downstairs in the basement, but I suppose that's what garage sales are for.

Going in and out of that house with stuff was not so much a physical but spiritual and emotional ass whipping. I felt those kids of mine behind every box of toys I humped. I felt the bank riding me hard with every meaningless stack of stuff I hauled. I felt the Estranged One most of all, whipping my ass for hiding back there and not fully engaging her with our problems. Hauling things out of that little cottage was like taking a lease out on my soul. I felt the weight of every object, dialed into every lash, registered every kick in the ass. And somehow, strangely, it felt good.

I know it sounds like I'm being hard on myself. I suppose at some point in life I needed to be. I don't think...and maybe that's been my problem. I've emoted all my life, not really thought too hard about things, and that's what has gotten me into this current mess. I feel too much. I felt too hard when the Estranged One left, felt too hard when the family came back, felt too much about meaningless trinkets, felt outrageous amounts of pain when Jane said goodbye and even felt sad about missing the kids even before the kids left. I felt too much about my issues at hand, but didn't give too much thought to thinking about them. About how they would all add up if I didn't do something about them. I suppose that's where the ass whuppin' comes from. From the realization that I haven't been thinking at all. And now, with my mind wide open, it's finally registering the pain of neglect. Things are all very clear to me. Thank goodness for that.

You know, the world gets in line every morning for this bit of exercise. From the moment I open my eyes at six until I go to sleep at eleven. I feel that one way or the other that I've needed this, not so much getting beat up by the world, but the reflective time that I've denied myself, to fully understand everything, not just the workings of my heart but what it is that drives me to listen to my heart instead of my head. Being a Romantic is not without it's costs.

So, know that in all that shifting something good has come out of it, something more than just acquiring an empty space. Oh, so much cleaning left to do. Maybe a paint job, too. After all that ass whuppin' that kind of work will be a relief.


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