The Banana Eater

09:25P

Well! I have a reader who is willing to Play The Game! The July 16 blog entitled "Another Small Amusement" was the catalyst for this submission by email from Papa Twade in Dallas, v.e.r.r.r.y. . .v.e.r.r.r.y. . .c.u.t.e. . , both Papa Twade AND his limerick:













The guy that was eating the banana
Is a big time music fanfana
As he ate his quick snack
With a pack on his back
He dreamt of being Carlos Santana.







And Papa Twade comments further: "For those of you that are not music fans, Carlos Santana is a legendary Grammy winning guitarist."

Credit: Picture from http://www.fanpix.net/photo/gallery/carlos-santana-picture-gallery-2.htm Thank you!


I emailed Papa Twade back: "Very cute! I knew I could count of you! You are my only response. I will publish it as promised. I'm glad u put the footnote about Carlos rhymes-with-banana Santana for my edification, never heard. I'll google for a pic. Or you can email URL address of one that u particularly like if u want."

Respectfully submitted,
Miss Peach

Juanita - It's Hot!

11:45P

This rhyme was written 05/04/97, a delightful memory of our kitty Juanita who didn't realize she was fourth in the pecking order at that time. She didn't care. She was always first in her own system, as were the other three first in their own systems. Happy days!

We already had three cats when our next door neighbor's employee brought this tiny kitten to our door one morning saying, "I know you love cats and wondered if you would take this little kitty who was wandering in the middle of the street out front just now. She's so cute, but I can't take her because I am moving to a new place which won't accept pets, and she's going to get killed out there." "We don't need another cat," I said, but took the baby into the office.

Someone working around our place that day said if we didn't want her, he would take her home and let her be an outdoor cat with a dozen others he fed. An ace in the hole. I showed her to Roy, telling him the circumstances and making it clear we didn't need another cat and that our workman would provide for her when he left for the day. Roy said okay, and I asked him if he wanted to baby-sit her until the workman went home that afternoon. Yes. I put the kitten on Roy's lap and left him with the wildly curly furred kitten.

I checked out the situation in the mid-afternoon. It was all over. Roy was sitting at his desk, Wall Street Journal in his hand as he posted the stocks he followed for the day, gingerly moving as he turned pages so as not to disturb the kitten on the back of his neck draped like a contour pillow, sound asleep. He said to me, completely serious, "You can keep her if you want to."

He named her Juanita for Juan Peron, but that's another story for another time.


Juanita

My kitty cat is tabby striped
in tan both dark and light.
Wild fur looks like she's been plugged in
a socket overnight.

No lap cat she, too wiggle-ee,
just full of energy.
She loves the outdoors when she isn't
under the settee.


Respectfully submitted,
Miss Peach

Another Small Amusement

11:55P

Today is another day of small amusements. I am in my car in West LA waiting for a traffic light and see a young man standing on the corner efficiently starting to peel a banana. He eats it efficiently, too, while waiting for the walk signal to cross, a Trader Joe's plastic grocery bag not very full sagging from his left hand, a pack-size travel bag slung over his right shoulder with a long strap holding it somewhere along his lower back, white iPod earphone cords dangling like a sparse beard. He finishes the banana. Traffic moves on. I am amused, not sure why, wish I had taken a picture with my iPhone.

I wonder as I tool along whether people in other countries live like we do, or if it is Only In America. Is the banana eater an American, or a traveler? He looked like a he was on a trip, but seemed right at home. Is that freedom Only In America, too? I really miss Roy during my speculations like this. Sometimes when I see something small, I still think fleetingly oh, I've got to tell Roy, he'll get a kick out of that! I am not very perceptive and he was, coming up with observations I would never notice, filling out more pieces of the self-generated puzzle which he initiated sometimes, playing the game, so to speak. So I try harder now without him, puzzling on my own. It's the little things in life.

Anybody want to play the game with me? Email me (you all know my email address) with your thoughts about the guy and why (out-of-state, not Californian, we eat more chips on the street and have water bottles, but maybe those were in the Trader Joe's bag, Californians use back-packs, not low-slung luggage, etc etc). You can add stuff that I don't know about, be serious or funny, or just ignore this d.u.m game. But I'll publish answers on my blog!

Respectfully submitted,
Miss Peach

Absolutely Necessary

11:30P

This will be a new-style blog tonight (for me) like other people write. Short. Concise. Not wordy. Can you believe it? Maybe not very interesting, either, but lots of things aren't interesting.

I was praying and dozing yesterday around eight in the evening, not sure when I was praying or when I was dozing. The last words that I heard in the prayer/dream seemed so important that I immediately grabbed my ever-present pen and pad so I could write down the words I had heard before I forgot them because they really were funny.

And here they are:

"Everything that has been told you is absolutely necessary,
absolutely necessary, absolutely necessary."

Isn't that delightful?

I particularly like the triad repetition, like some ancient language which doesn't have many words, so repeats the word for emphasis, like, "big, big, big." It's not too hard to decide that would mean a lot bigger than big! Or "yes, yes, yes" shows a lot more excitement than "yes." It's fun to get caught up in this, but I won't. Well. How about "rainy rainy rainy?" Or "sweet sweet sweet?" If I keep going on, this will get more wordy wordy wordy, won't it?

But the other thing I liked about my revelation was the double word phrase, "absolutely necessary," of which neither word can be more or less regardless of how many times it's repeated! If it's absolute, it can't be more absolute or less absolute. If something is necessary, it, too, either is or isn't; there is no degree in necessity either.

Isn't this all amazing? I keep thinking about it. What ever does it mean? And what about the things that I've already forgotten that were absolutely necessary? Was "forgotten" factored into the equation? This'll keep me busy for a few days, like the simple word "over" written on both sides of a sheet of paper to keep a dullard busy for a long time. Duh.

Respectfully submitted,
Miss Peach

CB of SB and Tiffany and Taxes

10:35P

Today's blog is dedicated to a client/friend I've worked with for too many years to mention here. He has done so many nice things for me over the years, even helping me move file cabinets and drawers of confidential records for all my clients so the movers wouldn't have access when we relocated the office many years ago. One day we had our annual appointment for him to come to my office to do his fiscal year end stuff before the IRS deadline. Every year he brings his car trunk full of records, his computer and printer and we hammer out whatever adjustments are required to bring his books to the point I can prepare the tax return by the end of the day. Of course I write this all up in my journal.

10:25A CB of SB calls. He's outside the gate, parked on the street, early, so he is going to walk the dog. He brought Tiffany today, his tiny dog, so cute!

10:30A I get the parking pass to give to him for the car rear view mirror. He and Tiffany are ready to come in. He lugs his computer and printer and paper and I carry Tiffany's bed and water bowl. Tiffany enters unencumbered.

10:35A-11:00A It takes us a while to get the computer equipment set up at the desk, ready to roll. Tiffany pees on the floor. CB of SB cleans it up easily without distress as though he has done it before, luckily not a lot of pee (because she is so small).

11:00A-12:45P We work

12:45P-2:00P We go to a cafe half a block away for lunch, but they don't have a liquor license and CB of SB wants a glass of wine, so we go to another restaurant 100 feet away, his treat today. I have today's special pasta, fusilli corkscrew pasta with small chicken bits, half a dozen pea-sized sun dried tomatoes, mushrooms, with a creamy thin sauce. I ask for two teaspoons heaping parmesan cheese and hot red pepper flakes to make it tastier, kind of bland without. I eat off of one side of my plate as is my wont since I usually take the other side home for another meal. When CB of SB finishes his Caesar salad with chicken, I'm still plugging away. He asks if he can have some of mine, and since it's too much and I'd have to take it home anyway and I haven't eaten off of that side, we slide probably what amounts to a third of the original-sized serving on to CB of SB's empty salad bowl. The waiter is right there with extra parmesan cheese for him, and grinds some fresh pepper for both of us. CB of SB does have wine, the "Chianti, the cheapest one," he orders. Ten dollars a glass!! Cheapest!! He is pretty quiet during the meal. I keep trying to make conversation, but he perks up nicely once he's eaten and we leave. 2:00P-3:35P We go back to the office and Tiffany. (We had put two big empty boxes to cut off the kitchen from the rest of the office, and put her bed, her water bowl and her in the kitchen while we went to eat.) We work hard, finish to where he and Tiffany can leave for a couple of hours and I can do a year's worth of unrec'd bank recs.

3:45P-6:45P I do bank recs. What a struggle. When the gal helping out with the books in S.B. didn't balance, she let Quickbooks do an automatic adjustment, all terrible things. I am trying to figure out which ones to deal with when CB of SB and Tiffany return. I open the gate so they can park in the garage.

6:45P-8:50P We finish, ready to plunk it on the tax return. But I am too tired anyway and he needs to be home tonight, so I'll finish it tomorrow. (I hope!) He needs to eat before he drives back to S.B. He is weary from his few short hours away on a family matter, too much for him today. I offer hot-link chili dogs. He says fine.

8:50P-9:15P I fix hot-links, homemade chili I had on hand, homemade coleslaw with grated carrots, large buttered hot dog buns warmed in the oven. I go back to the office to tell him food is ready. He is all packed up. We'll pack the car after we eat.

9:15P-10:10P We sit at the table to eat. I have put chopped onion, grated cheese and sour cream to go with the chili dogs. CB of SB eats two, like real chili dogs, holds them in his hand to eat! I use knife and fork for my one. He is full of sugar M&M's that he's been eating all day, so doesn't want any dessert, although he has a Classic Coke/ice with his dinner for the caffeine jolt to help him get to S.B. I give Tiffany a little bowl. She is dancing around, feet/paws on my knees, as I give her tiny bits of buttered bun. She's mostly ignored me all day but got friendlier as the day wore on. Now I'm her best friend as I give her a choice "center cut" of hot-link (no chili). She really loves that. I could "do" with a dog like Tiffany, a mini Shiatsu, about as big as our kitty Evita was in her hey-day, but lighter in weight. When we finished eating, we go over to the office to move CB of SB's stuff down to his car. He carries the computer and printer. I carry Tiffany, her bed and shopping bag. It feels good to carry that little dog in the crook of my arm, surprised she lets me. She just snuggles in. CB of SB pulls out of the garage at 10:10P and I go back upstairs to do dishes.

10:10P-10:45P I do the dishes, not too hard since I didn't really cook, only warmed things up. I feel good about today. Dear Lord, Thank you for my day, thank you for giving me energy and strength and the ability to work by the power of Your arm which never fails to uplift me! Thank You, Lord!

Another Bonus Day!

When I asked CB of SB if he minded my starring him and Tiffany in my blog (at least I'll have two readers, him and me, he and I, Tiffany can't read yet) I think he was confused as to what I expected from him. He emailed me: "I'm looking for a picture to send you....Rushing around a little today so might not think up clever message." Well, within minutes he had emailed me the picture accompanying the blog captioned "CB of SB Daughter jumping horse." It's not Tiffany, but it really is impressive. CB of SB and Daughter must be very proud!

Respectfully Submitted,
Miss Peach

God Loves Us All

11:50P

Looking for some other things, I end up dredging my journals from a year ago to blog, interesting to me. This one for today's blog was written in February 2009 when the economy had tanked pretty well and we were all talking about sub-prime mortgages and the Dow Jones Industrial Average, maybe Madoff, worrying about the economy and jobs and retirement funds.

Wednesday 02/25/09 journal:
I walk to a restaurant close to home. It is so slow tonight! The waitress asks if I want something to drink. I say iced tea. She never brings it. Once I ask pointedly if I could have it, she says yes, but does a dozen other things.

The bus "boy" asks if he can get me some coffee. I say no, iced tea, the waitress said she was bringing it but never did. He said he would get it, but he too does other things and doesn't get it.

All this time I still haven't ordered. Finally I get the iced tea and I order. Ten minutes pass. The waitress is back. "Bad news," she says. "The pea soup is out." She asks what else do I want. I get a choice of half a dozen different sides with my entree on a special: various soups, salads, desserts, et cetera. I say I have to see the menu. I decide on a small chocolate sundae, but I won't tell her until I'm done eating or else she'll probably bring it too early and it will melt, I imagine.

I feel myself being angry about all this. I plan what I'm going to say to her, etc etc. But, I hear my conscience telling me, God loves her as much as He loves me! I need to love my neighbor as myself. And my anger disappears without my making any effort! It is just gone! Hallelujah!

I must have projected it to the waitress. Here she comes with a huge full fresh glass of iced tea, lots of ice, fresh lemon, just like I love it. "Thank you," I say, "too much! I'll be floating back home." When she does bring my sundae, she says, "I gave you a bigger serving." I say, "Thank you!" again. What a marvelous unfolding of . . . what? A pleasant surprise, like a box within a box.

I left feeling good, gave her my regular 20% tip as a single diner, gave the night manager at the cash register an Almond Roca and a Ghiardelli Square. In response to my question, he tells me they do have a lower number of patrons, two chefs are off, their working hours have been cut, the dishwasher is gone so a bus boy is doing the dishes, and only one bus boy is on the floor. Wow. No wonder it was so slow. The economy is even affecting me!


So this is one reason I like to re-read my old journals, you forget when things are good or bad, you forget the details, and in the course of it all, you forget the rewards, too. I'm glad to report that my life in that restaurant is back to the normal of days before that day in February 2009!

Respectfully submitted,
Miss Peach

The Silent Menagerie

10:25P

I get up this day and try to wake up. I am still sleepy. I sit on the couch amongst all my animals, cozy inside. It is cold and overcast today, a grey grey day, no shadows I can see, even under the patio beam at the wall or under the patio table, an even grey grey all over. The lion fountain is mum, his water being turned off for the night. The goldfish and mosquito eater fish in the pool are invisible from the couch.

Inside, Victor the sculptured greyhound is looking outside through his glass eyes waiting patiently without barking for the sun to come out, one foot raised and bent in anticipation.

The twin bronze hares from Thailand are staring at me in tandem, their big ears straight up as if to say accusingly but wordlessly about the grim day, "You did this."

The six-inch unmoving turtle is looking outside through the glass door, ready to move when there's something to move about but definitely not talkative.

The concrete-casted coyote pup waits by the sliding door looking out, face raised to howl soundlessly or to see when the overcast will succumb to the sun, ready to make his move.

The brightly painted Mexican papier-mache parrot with his beautiful tail and folded wings is on his perch with an American flag, looking over his shoulder at me with a beady eye, claws gripping his bar as if to say inaudibly, "Why not now?"

The white furry kitty with pink ribbon around her neck is close behind my right shoulder on the couch, looking questioningly at me when I turn to look at her.

The wooden cat on the small table between the two barrel chairs crouches in a sphinx-like position facing me says speechlessly, "What now, boss?"

A metal serpent on top of the Korean chest by itself silently winds its way around a candle stick in perpetuity.

The carved walrus from Alaska is sitting on four CD's by Roy's chair surveying the situation mutely.

The Steuben frog on the shelf above the walrus is hunkered down as he has been for years and years, voiceless.

The papier-mache yellow bird on top of the keyboard/bookshelves is overlooking the whole room with unsung songs from his papier-mache vocal cords.

I live with a silent menagerie, just bursting to communicate!

Me, or them?

I'm awake now after this little amusing exercise. It's still overcast, though.

Miss Peach

A Dream - January 2008

11:25P

Roy and I were holding our own at home this night in January 2008, his hospital bed set up in our living room for the past year after his crises in May 2005 resulted in hospitalization until January 2007 when he came home to hopefully recover. We had a caregiver for twelve hours a day that we could not have done without, but I was the "night girl" and always looked forward to Roy's and my time together without a third person, even though I was generally a nervous wreck about the nursie things.

Once the caregiver left for the night an hour or two before midnight, I would read portions of the day's Wall Street Journal to Roy, then read cartoons from the New Yorker, verbally describing the cartoon scenario, setting the stage as it were before reading the caption/punchline, with the wonderful highlight of his giving a big grin when something was funny enough in his situation to make him laugh. Even though he had a trach and couldn't really verbally laugh, that big grin was enough for me. I'd read him the index of articles from the New Yorker and he would choose what he wanted to hear, things we always both enjoyed which I would read out loud. I always teased him about his marrying my subscription to the New Yorker because I had subscribed even in college and he would sit on my couch during our short courtship days and read my newest New Yorker issue!

So now during his illness when he was tired and I "tucked him in" for sleep, there was my own fitful sleeping for the rest of the night, never much time at one crack to sleep because I would need to give him breathing treatments, check on his oxygen, pulse, temperature, change his position in bed every two hours, give him water, scratch his nose when he would rasp, "Nose! nose!" through his trach (and if I scratched the wrong side, he would rasp, "The other nose!" He had a speaking valve, but it always had to be removed before he slept.) I never wanted to be asleep when he needed me because he was unable to ring a bell or speak loud enough usually to get my attention to take care of whatever he needed, so I needed to be on the alert.

I started keeping this journal the day Roy went into Cedars-Sinai emergency that day in 2005 and haven't given it up yet. I've always had some sort of a journal, but this one has become a chronic addiction.

The following is copied verbatim from my journal.

Sunday January 27, 2008
11:10 p.m. (The caregiver) leaves.
11:10 p.m.-12:00 a.m. midnight I sleep on the couch sitting up.

Monday January 28, 2008
12:20 a.m.-2:00 a.m. I love writing at night when nobody is interrupting me and things aren't happening. So I'll write fragments of a dream I had before midnight just now.

Roy and I were on a trip of sorts, going in and out of stores, leisurely looking around and shopping.

One store was a book store, but very unusual, more like a library but more casual. Roy picked out a couple of books, and a man sitting in the books said, "You can't buy those, I need the one for my writing." And sure enough, he was writing, like research at a library. "But you can have them while you're here," he adds, surrounded by books, like he was in a shelf with them. We said okay and went to another open room of the store but found nothing else.

I really loved the store, and told Roy I really wanted to buy something there. But no, nothing else, so we took the books back to the writing man to return them to him. Roy very carefully and methodically took the covers off of both books and left the covers separately splayed open, printed-side up, on top of the shelf/table which was covered with other books. The covers were the satiny tough paper of current books, smooth, inviting to the touch, and held their opened shape on the table, sort of hovering in space. I was impressed with Roy's attitude and gesture in this added sort-of-dismissive-insult of having to return the books instead of being allowed to buy them.

The man gave us a red cardboard tag to take with us, like a receipt of sorts for the books. I took it and purposely dropped it on the floor as we casually went through a doorway into another room of the store on the way out. I told Roy what I had done, quite pleased with myself, like trashing something on their premises. The man seemed like an owner, not a patron or clerk in the store, so we both " showed it to 'the Man.' "

Next we are outside. We had gone to a couple of other stores in this dream before the book store, but they are lost from my conscious memory. At some point, it is now cold outside, and I realize I have left my pink windbreak [aka windbreaker to Californians] someplace. I am trying to remember where/when I saw it last and I'm back-tracking mentally and verbally, well, I had it when we blah-dey, blah-dy, blah and then I didn't need it blah-dy blah, trying to figure out where to go back to get it.

At this point there seems to be another person with us, who I can't place, male, I believe, and bossy. This person wanted to start at the beginning our trip to trace the stupid pink windbreak, and I had already out loud narrowed it down to a time and place just in the last three or four places we had shopped on this particular day, so to start at the beginning of the trip was overkill, and sort of rubbing it in that I had misplaced it at all.

I was furious, lashing out verbally at this person, feeling even in my dream that I was over-reacting and didn't want to be this angry person, embarrassed that Roy was seeing me like this. In order to get out of being this way, since I couldn't seem to stop my mouth in the dream, was to wake up. And so I did, at midnight this morning. End of dream.

2:00 a.m.-2:25 a.m. I re-read the dream, edit it a bit, wish I could remember the part of the dream before the part I remember! I wish I could interpret what it means, if anything, but I think it does mean something, perhaps good to be aware of, other than nobody likes an angry person, that person loses respect, and anger doesn't really add any value to the situation. So much for the anger part, that is easy.

But what about wanting to buy the one book that is not for sale, and wanting nothing else? What is the red chit/tag, a red flag? For what? And my subtlety in tossing it away, did that disarm it? Did I refuse to accept a red tag/flag and made it go away? Or was/is it stupid to even think that? Did I flout a red flag? What was the deal about Roy's removing the covers on the books? Why did we have to return both books when the guy only wanted one for his research?

One really great thing in the dream is Roy is well, walking, no incapacity, (and younger! As I am, too, in the dream, like old times when we actually did travel, a nice frosting on the cake of the dream so to speak). What was the significance of the pink windbreak? And who was the third person? A critical parent? Or a wicked step-person? Or someone I don't even know, a stranger? And what was the purpose in the dream?

Well, it's the middle of the night so I have to quit and get some sleep. This dream brings back to mind some other dreams as I write. Did I revisit any other dreams tonight? Enough already! A nice interlude in my sleeping.


I was looking up something else in my February 2009 journal today when I saw a reference to this dream which is what triggered this blog:
"I came across the most marvelous dream 01/28/08. I sticky-tabbed it "dream" so I could find it again, a 4-page dream and 2 pages after, questions, interpretations. Such fun! One of those weirdo dreams, I laughed out loud, read it twice. A gift to me today!"

And a gift to me again today!

Miss Peach

4th of July - America the Beautiful!

10:55P

My Fourth of July started Friday July 2 when Pastor Rich texted me, excerpted: ".....is there any chance you would want to help me cook in the church kitchen tomorrow at 9 AM....making lasagna and wonderful vegetarian chili. I'm shopping for the food yet this afternoon so I'll be all ready at nine o'clock. I'd do it later but A's [6 yr-old grandson] basketball game is 11 AM..."

I texted back: "Why not! Ur favorite response, aka 'What's not to want to?' I'll see u 9:00A. Any utensils I should bring from home let me know, so as to keep my efficiency and talents, whoops...! 'freedoms!' at top speed and quality... Smile..."

Fast forward to Saturday morning July 3 from my journal:
08:50A-09:00A I drive to church, just pulling to the curb to park as Pastor Rich arrives behind me. He drives down the driveway to the kitchen door.
09:00A-11:00A I am the only one helping today, just veggie lasagna and veggie chili to do, but huge amounts for maybe 30 people or more. Pastor Rich has all the ingredients there organized in grocery bags on a stainless steel table and the frig. I open cans of spaghetti sauce, tomatoes and olives amongst canned carrots, mushrooms, and beans for the chili. I rinse and slice fresh yellow squash, zucchini, green peppers and tomatoes, dice onions and red bell pepper, separate broccoli flowerets. I saute veggies, do various procedures as Pastor Rich tells me what, when and how to do things. I'm pretty good, trying to do things his way today.
He seems tired, says he did wind sprints last night exercising, overdid, doesn't feel great. Besides, I know he has had a very stressful week. He asks once how he looks. I say, "Pale." He sits down a few times as he works.
We sample the chili. He points me to a bowl within view of his chair that looks like a highly polished bowl for a medium sized dog, on which I comment. No, he says, it's part of a nesting set (which wasn't in sight) (for dogs from chihuahuas to Great Danes, I guess....smile...). A spoon needing to be washed is my utensil, so I wash it, wash the dust out of the dog bowl and serve myself some chili. Pastor Rich has already sampled it earlier with another spoon, and had dropped a bean on his shirt in the process which he had pointed out as he looked down on it then. Now he decides he needs a proper serving and then he might feel better. He looks around from his chair, no bowls, nothing to eat from, (phantom dogs are all using the rest of the phantom bowls from the missing nested set), so he chooses a small non-stick sauce pan with lots of injuries that he can reach without getting up.
He says to me, "I hate to ask you to do this, but would you mind rinsing this out and getting me a little chili?" I say sure, no problem, after I ask, dissing the pan, "You're going to eat out of that? You might as well eat out of a can," I add, gesturing to all the empties from the beans, tomatoes, olives, carrots, et al. No, just my little joke. He is not amused. "Is this enough?" I ask as I dish up a medium ladle full. No, add one more.
Nothing elegant about the presentation, but the chili is delicious, just hits the spot. It perks him right up. He's outta there in five minutes at 11:00A to go to A's game as planned. Perfect timing.
11:00A-11:45A I stay on and clean up the kitchen some, bag the trash in the now-empty grocery bags, wash up all the bowls, utensils, etc including the nesting dog bowl and small well-used sauce pan. I dry some, let some drip dry. Pastor Rich will be coming back after A's game to put the cooling chili in the frig, etc, whatever.

Fast forward to Sunday, July 4 at 11:00A church service:
The entire service is dedicated to July 4 today, the music, the sermon. Today we celebrate not just our day of independence but our day of freedom. Our nation is an example to every other nation, every race, every religion, for opportunity, peace, wealth, for everyone, for freedom to make our own decisions, because our forefathers decided it was possible, and didn't quit. And so we must reject God being in charge of death, because He is in charge of Life! WE must decide that it is possible, and not quit, but commit.
Today's special music after the praise songs is from the handbell ringers who play "America the Beautiful" which I asked my friend S.R. to video on my iPhone because I am one of the bell ringers, the concentrating tall one in white in the middle. Since this is S.R.'s first commission on the iPhone with its fixed distance, no zooming, no close-ups or far-aways, it starts out a bit uninteresting involving his thumb or finger obscuring the action occasionally as he moves around but hopefully you will get caught up in our production led by Mrs. Pastor Rich. I believe this video will show up at the bottom of this interminable blog!

Fast forward to Sunday, July 4 The Baptist Church Picnic from 01:30P to whenever
We are at Mar Vista Park, Pastor Rich, pale no more today, in charge of his 31st July 4 picnic at the Park. We are all eating the lasagna and chili, mac 'n cheese, BBQ'd hamburgers, hot dogs, veggie burgers and veggie dogs ("What's in them?" I ask. Nobody knows, it's Mystery BBQ, but, I am assured, not meat. I pass...), baked beans, foil-wrapped corn-on-the-cob, salad, chips and salsa, red-white-and-blue cake, brownies, Marie Callender's peach pie and strawberry pie, Ralph's chocolate cake, dipped strawberries, what all else.
We are fellowshipping, which means talking while we're eating with our friends and their guests, a melting pot of accents and religions, as we move from the shade of the trees to the sunny lawn when the winds cool us down quickly as they jostle some clouds arriving overhead. Many hardy souls play games including the egg toss, volleyball and baseball, some play with the babies attending, some play with the two dogs enjoying themselves, some sit and talk, we all snack, a wonderful afternoon! Thank You, Lord! A truly Bonus Day!

Miss Enn Checks In

09:25P

The following comprises a true-to-life email discourse back-and-forth with a client/friend during the past two-three days. She is nagging me to get off the dime and finish up her "stuff." She makes me laugh. The names have been changed to protect our innocence, in a sense. (See June 30, 2010 blog) Or maybe it is supposed to be, protect the innocents...


Wed, Jun 30, 2010 at 6:22 PM
Hey, Miss Peach!!

Did you get those payment thingies done yet? And my tax stuff returned? Are you lost in the blogosphere???

Miss Enn



Thu, Jul 1, 2010 at 1:34 AM
Thursday July 1, 2010 JULY 1!!! 01:10A Santa Monica time
Hi, Miss Enn

In re the payment thingies and tax stuff: Well, I'm working on them! I have all the copies printed and sorted out in little piles, all I have to do is spend another hour stapling and organizing and putting your original stuff in a Fedex box, so I have not forgotten you, had all the computer work finished a week ago at least. It's hard to be semi-retired or to only work part-time, since I don't need a flexible schedule when I have WORK TO DO!

But it is July already so I do want to finish up and put your stuff to bed off of the counter and desk, and I know one perfect way to do that. I still have an old New Yorker cartoon on the side of my desk, two people in a hall at an office, and one says to the other, "Sometimes it's important to stop whatever break you're taking and just do the work."

I think I'm at that point.

I hope you have a happy 4th of July holiday, my very favorite holiday all my life. We are having the Baptist Church picnic on the 4th after church, potluck, barbeque, at a park on Palms at Sawtelle where they've had the picnic for thirty years, I think. I've only been once before. I'm taking brownies. I'll be playing the handbells with seven others for Sunday morning church service, a patriotic America, America, which I barely recognize since I'm in the middle, not playing the melody, and can't hear either end of the ringers. But it's fun. I think a person could be totally deaf and still ring bells. If it's short enough, I'll put it on the blog.

June 30 blog was fun to do, but I don't know how long I'll carry this on. I can see why blogs get started and bloggers only post three or four times a year. Or once! I've done better than that, but it is sort of pointless. Fun, but I'd be better off to be making quilts for my nephew/wife's impending twins in November.

See? I could have put these last two paragraphs in a blog. Oh, well. You got 'em!

Miss Peach



Thu, Jul 1, 2010 at 6:25 AM
Thanks, Miss Peach ~

I just realized how glad I am that I have your email address: that way I can write and get an opportunity to enjoy your writing in return. Bonus!

As for those two paragraphs you could have blogged, just copy and paste them, maybe tweak a little, and voila! a blog post. I'll never tell it was recycled.

Your 4th sounds grand! Do enjoy! Take care, have fun,

Miss Enn



Fri, Jul 2, 2010 at 7:19 PM
Friday 070210 06:40P Santa Monica time
Hi, Miss Enn

I'm taking up your suggestion to do the blog today from our email exchanges, yours being anonymous, starting with the one where you ask me about the payment "thingies" through the one suggesting I blog the last couple of paragraphs on mine. There is nothing personal about our emails to identify us, and yours trigger my amusement. Mine's not funny without yours. Shall you require royalties? Smile... I shall call you Miss Enn unless you have a better aka that I can use like my Miss Peach. Everybody knows who Miss Peach is since I'm sure I've never had a reader that I hadn't told about the blog, but Miss Enn (or whoever) no one will know.

Miss Peach



Fri, Jul 2, 2010 at 8:41 PM
ooo ooo ooo! I love getting your messages, Miss Peach!

Miss Enn


Respectfully submitted,
Miss Peach

Innocence in a Sense

11:40P

I've started a little list
of things to blog about,
but nothing is quite right
to blog about tonight.
One phrase amuses me:
"innocence in a sense."
"The hand with which I write"
explains the phrase airtight.

Is "innocence in a sense"
an oxymoron? In a sense.
Innocence either is or isn't,
in my view.
My explanation's
in a sense a pun.
The phrase and explanation is
a double pun or two!


Oh, I think I'm so clever.
Ha ha ha...
But it was fun to write.
Miss Peach


Some really good ones in here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxymoron
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pun

Million Bells in Breeze

11:55P

So hello again, Miss Peach. It seems like we are the only ones reading these blogs, me, myself and I. I decided to put the shortest video on record on the blog today, titled Million Bells in Breeze :11, not the 11th "take" but 11 seconds, taken on April 11, 2010, a Sunday morning. Since I have to know computer code to put the video on the blog page where I want it, the video's not going to be exactly where I want it today, my computer code strengths sadly lacking, not just today, but every day so far in my life.

Yet I have to admit to myself, it is a perfect little video, capturing everything I saw in the Million Bells the day I pointed my iPhone at it and touched the video "button". Such a lovely memory! I can still feel the balminess of the breeze on April 11, the last Sunday of tax season this year. Or was it a gale?... I forget... Maybe inbetween. One of the nicest things about memories besides the remembrances is the forgettrances. Which is why the camera and the contemporaneous journal are two wonderful crutches in life.

The Million Bells themselves are an annual flower, but they weathered over in our mild courtyard protected weather zone from early spring 2009, bloomed profusely all summer and fall, and never quit blooming all winter, although a little straggly at times, but always a few flowers, cheerfully enjoying their clay pot location close to the office door where I see them every time I go in or out.

Blessings on us all!

Miss Peach

I'll Fly Away - Pastor Tom sings and plays guitar

11:50P Santa Monica time

So I'm branching out. This is a 1:40 minute video, if it loads, if it plays, that I took with my handheld iPhone at afternoon church a month ago. I chose a short one for our debut. So my blog today is short, too. I'm anxious to see if this will work. If it does, I've got to get a more attractive label for it than what looks like a black blogger box, no offense to Blogger of course, who makes this all possible for me. Aren't we all so fortunate... Enjoy! At least I'll have one reader/listener today: Pastor Tom! And, perhaps, his family! I am so blessed.

Miss Peach

Dogs

11:35P Santa Monica time

I set my cell alarm for 11:00P so I would come to the computer to do my blog. I have an empty mind today. I'm just going to copy out a Santa Monica native animal rhyme from the alphabet booklet I was dallying with a few years ago, writing and illustrating. Something short. I've exhausted my tiny audience already with all my words. This rhyme is cute, I think. However, it looks like I'll have to be a rocket scientist in order to get my illustrations of the dogs posted here aesthetically. Maybe some day. But not today.

The Dog

Dogs come in all sizes
with color surprises,
their coats varied
curly to straight;

their legs short or tall
above paws large or small;
some are hyper,
some very sedate.

Dogs love to go out
with a leash on a route
where they check out
who's been there before.

They are loyal and true,
they become part of you.
How could anyone
ask any more?

Miss Peach

Monday Bible Study Last Night Revisited

11:50P Tuesday 062210

Last night was our regular weekly Monday Bible Study at E.L.'s house this week. I did my usual chauffeuring, with various confirmation calls to people I pick up, "Are you going?" and then estimating time I'd be there. Last night we had unusual drama before getting to the Bible Study. S.R. wants to return some bad shrimp to the grocery store, hadn't decided it was really bad until after he ate it for dinner. Great. He gets in the car with H.R. who is rolling her eyes at all the complaints before I got there which have been erased the minute he cheerfully steps into the car. E.S. has locked her house keys inside her home, still in her work clothes but answering her cell, happy to have time while we re-deliver the shrimp from whence it came before we pick her up. We end up only ten minutes late.

Four others, Pastor I.S., E.L., U.M. and E.T. are already there before us four, chomping away before we get there on what turns out to be delicious fried eggplant, homemade samosas, with fresh mint and hot red pepper "salsa" to eat with either or both. Cups of tea are passed around. I have brought my own iced tea. We have another twenty minutes "fellowship" (eating and talking) before Pastor I.S. starts the actual Study with a prayer.

We are studying from a book on Prayer written by Kenneth Hagin and do very well last night. Pastor I.S. starts the reading and then we each read a paragraph from the study booklet round the room. We always have many interruptions for questions, definitions, interpretations and discussion, but last night we read our full complement of eight paragraphs for eight participants. We're on page 118 when we quit last night after an hour and ten minutes out of maybe 200 pages in the book. We'll get there, Lord willing and the creek don't rise.

We then discuss prayer requests for twenty minutes, lots of discussion there, sharing problems of our relatives, our neighbors, our pastors, our own issues, a bunch of caring people in that room loving others as we have been taught to love by Jesus Christ.

And then ten minutes of prayers. E.S. starts the prayers, and as she prays the room opens up, lots of verbal action from others at the table, everybody is praying outloud their own separate prayers, prayers in agreement, noisy, E.S. breaks into song in part, her own creation, winds down. I think she says Amen, but then continues with more! Pastor I.S. finishes with his own prayer and we all feel wiped out and elated as applause and a cheer goes up from us.

E.L. warms up the remaining eggplant and samosas, we finish them, then she passes the ten individually wrapped cake slices that I brought from nephew R.S.'s cake that he brought to me Sunday night, yellow bundt loaded with chocolate chips and chocolate glaze. A couple of pieces were eaten right then, but the rest went home with everybody for today's lunch.

So that was the Bible Study Monday night.

Today I get an early email from E.L. Subject is "Upper Room" and she writes: "Thank God for a beautiful morning, we all had such a blessing last night. It was like the upper room, so filling like the free spirit and the Holy Spirit at the same time. God has blessed us with our group. We are all different but the same root, such as leaves, branches, buds, flowers, etc. I thank you all. Have a good day."

Of course, I had to respond to that: "Hi, E.L., Such a beautiful 'morning after' message! I loved ur phrase 'like the free spirit and the Holy Spirit at the same time.' I went home last night and played praise and worship songs on my keyboard for well over an hour, transposing keys one after another, things I never dreamed I could do (and most likely can't repeat!) I wonder what God is going to do with us all! Are you ready?? Luv"

E.L. emails response: "Yes I am! Guess what." And she writes details of someone we prayed for last night at her request which we all know was an answer to our prayer last night. "Prayer Prayer," she writes, "Thanks for the cake I am eating while sending the e-mail."

S.R. calls. I guess he's over the threat from the bad shrimp. He's watching a "boring" (his term, not mine) soccer game, calls to kill the time. I read E.L.'s email to him. He quits talking. "Are you there?" I ask. "Yes," he responds. I hear the game in the background, but hear nothing from his mouth. I say after a ten second delay, "It sounds like you're watching the game." He says, "What?" I repeat. He says, "They're going into scoring mode." I say, "Hang up." And so we do. I think the Bible Study is going into scoring mode, too.

V.'s Mother's Prayer "Send Laser Beams"

11:30P Santa Monica time

We had a wonderful prayer offered for V. by his mother with manifestation in tongues of God's Holy Spirit shared with a small group of us at church after Bible Study last Wednesday night as we prayed hands-on for V.

Inspiration for V.’s mother's Prayer was "Send Laser Beams of God’s Word" from a text by Dr. Aiko Hormann.

The Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I ask you to assign ministering spirits to aim the laser beams of Your Word at the scar tissues in V.’s brain and specify the particular frequency of the laser beam for the purpose of disintegrating them.

Your Word coming out of my mouth will be energized by the Breath of the Holy Spirit within me.

It is written: "For this purpose the Son of God was manifested that he might destroy the works of the devil." 1 John 3:8. Therefore, I destroy the works of the devil in the form of brain lesions and scar tissue.

It is written: "Our God is a consuming fire." Hebrews 12:29. Therefore, God is consuming all the disease-causing germs and viruses, and everything else in this body that is abnormal and destructive.

It is written: "The Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus has made me [V.] free from the Law of sin and death." Romans 8:2. Therefore, I decree that V. is free from the law of sin and death and is now operating in the Law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus.

It is written: "He [Jesus] Himself took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses." Matthew 8:17. Therefore Satan has no right to put upon V. that which was already laid on Jesus. I command you, Satan and spirits of darkness, to pack up all your symptoms and diseases and leave this body NOW, in the name of Jesus and become part of his footstool.

It is written: "Your [V.] body is the temple of the Holy Spirit." 1 Corinthians 6:19. Therefore I ask you, Holy Spirit, to cleanse your temple and restore this body [temple] to total normalcy, conforming to the pattern of perfection YOU originally designed for this body, in the Name of Jesus.

Thank You, Heavenly Father, for Your faithfulness to Your Word, watching over Your Word to perform it and I call this body healed, according to Romans 4:17 "...God, who gives life to the dead and calls those things which do not exist as though they did..."

Welcome, Cameron!

11:30P Santa Monica time

A couple of months ago a client/friend and his wife sent me an email announcing the birth of their first grandchild, for whom the new granddad had written a short flute piece which he played when they met for the first time. He wrote in his announcement: “When she heard the flute, her eyes lit up and she stared at the flute in utter fascination. We’re going to have lots of fun with this beautiful Black Chinese Filipino Polish Italian little creature!” I clicked on the attachment to bring up a delightful picture of Mama, Papa and Baby, all three with broad smiles, looking at me from my computer screen.

I emailed back to the grandparents, parents and babe:

Hi, Congratulations, all of you!!!

Welcome, CBT, to this Wonderful World, of your entry into it as an Only Child, a Firstborn, of doting parents, grandparents, and lots of other relatives you'll find are relatives Forever too, of music from flutes composed specially for you, of dancing under the stars, of chocolate, of dogs and cats and hamsters, of laughter and giggling and smiling knowingly, of crazy limericks and rhymes, of pottery and pasta, of color and space, of wind in the trees and in the desert, of ethnic food and heritage including apple pie and brownies, of joy in being alive and well and living in Southern California, of God's blessings on your arrival here and your past, present and future life, of freedoms expected and unexpected, of body and soul and spirit as you try them out, and of Love all around you, unlimited, overflowing, reciprocated, human and divine. Go for it, Cameron, have a wonderful life! Xoxoxoxox!

Love, Great-Auntie

Sent from my iPhone


I read it and re-read it, and re-read it. God made this wonderful life! Enjoy it with Cameron and me!

Miss Peach

Can This Marriage Be Saved?

11:30P Santa Monica time

Oh, no, rhymes again. Oh, well.

Can This Marriage Be Saved?
(Sub-Title by my mother:
If He Isn't Jealous of the Cats, He Should Be)
January 28, 1992 Re-Visited

Dedicated to Evita, Maria, Domingo and Juanita
with Apologies to Roy.....

I buy their food
I don't complain
I lug it home
I don't complain
I plan their meals with great variety.
I open cans and boxes, too,
I note the things they didn't like
So I won't get those things again.
I don't complain.

I open doors
I don't complain
I close the doors
I don't complain
I get up from a nice warm bed
To let them in or let them out
The upstairs window though they have
A cat door one floor down.

I welcome them upon my desk
They push my pens and pencils off
They lie upon my paper work
And yet I don't complain.
They lie upon my monitor,
With paws or tails obscuring screen,
They eat the printer paper some
And still I don't complain.

I pet them every time they pass,
I welcome them with lap inviting,
Laugh at how they move, and sit,
And talk and pout and stalk.

I smile to see their little faces
Waiting at the door to greet me,
Tails erect and posture
Queen-or-kingly,
As the case may be.

They are so careful, stepping cat-like
In and on and inbetween things,
Never making one misstep
Or damaging a thing.
But if they did
(They don't, but if)
But if an object would be damaged,
Broken, torn or toppled, well,
I'd easily forgive them, since
I know they couldn't help it
And I know they wouldn't do
That thing on purpose, anyway.

They're welcome on the bed although
They might have dirty feet,
But then, they'll clean their feet
(Although they do not
clean the spread itself.)
And if they choose the middle of the bed,
I don't complain,
I just arrange my life and body
Right around their little space.

And when they leave, I don't expect
Their telling me their destination,
And I do not ask them
When they're back
Where they have been.
I worry when they're gone too long,
I call them loudly and I don't
Particularly care
If all the neighbors
Think I'm strange.

I'm patient, kind and loving, with
No expectations from them, for
What else could they add
To our joint relationship
That we don't have?

They're perfect little beings
That were put on Earth to save us
From our "daily" daily living.
I'm in love.
I don't complain!

The Mice Family

10:55P Santa Monica time

So I'm lazy today. My house guest relatives have flown off into the wild blue yonder earlier this evening after four days of running around with little time in between events with extended family (not mine), 90th birthday celebrations, mountains, the beach, a red Mustang convertible to get to and fro and now back to work in the morning. A blitz trip! They weren't around long enough for us to have a laughing good time although it was pleasant.

My biggest laugh today was one I read in a magazine: What ball LOOKS good but doesn't bounce good? An eyeball. I thought that was funny, it's really two jokes. My relatives were not amused. Which I found funny! It's the small things in life that delight. The reader is probably not amused either...if there are any readers thus far.

Today I am re-visiting a true story that happened in the vintage month of September 1991, a small thing that delighted me, so I had to make a rhyme out of it then which still delights me.


The Mice Family

Well, once upon a time there was
a family of tiny mice
who lived up Laurel Canyon-way.
They were so cute, and they were nice.

They never interfered a lot
with people who lived in their house.
They did their errands, ate and slept
while being quiet as a mouse.

One day a ripe banana on
the frig they sampled peel and all.
They were not greedy, they left half
to rest within their banquet hall.

This was an error on their part.
They did not know to what amount
had they consumed the other half,
the people would not think to count

the rest of the bananas, so
a trap was built to move them on.
As one by one they entered it,
they started feeling woebegone

until they realized that they
were getting food and water, too.
Their tiny ears and whiskers twitched
when bedding came! A rendezvous

was up and coming soon, they found,
as they were loaded on a truck.
They wound around the canyon while
they pondered whether this was luck.

But, yes, it was! At Mulholland
the door was loosed and they were free!
No house was near, but not to fear,
they'd have a lovely picnic tea!


So much for small things. The story? Or the mice, who actually were small? Think about the size of their tiny round eyeballs! Or the fact that the mice were actually house guests! There are layers of small, entangled things here, including my mind.

Miss Peach

ALERT: *Religious* *Religious* *Religious*

10:05P Santa Monica time

I guess I want everybody to know that today I'm blogging something that may be offputting to most of you, but it's very exciting to ME. I wrote it up originally in my real journal on March 11, 2010 journal at 7:55A that morning, to wit:

I begin my out-loud prayers. I want to record them as they happen but it's too distracting, so I only jot down the highlights and write them up afterwards. I am awake and sitting up in bed to pray, my eyes open, my mouth going. I feel the presence of Jesus being in the room with me. We (Jesus and I) verify that with immediate tears this a.m. I hate the manifestation of tears but they happen sometimes. I know He's here.

I feel power in my hand from the Spirit, the same Spirit and power that is in Jesus that He gave to me. I pull my hand out from under the cover, lay it on top of my left hand under the cover over my heart and lungs. I pray that I have the power through Jesus. And I know I do, we verify that with tears, too. I pray further for a friend's numb face and bony knob on the right side of her hairline, for God/Jesus to heal her. I pray for power in my own hand, and for healing in my heart and lungs under my hand as I pray, for regeneration for my friend to her "original blueprint" in being God's/Jesus' original creation.

I feel a peace, like I've not felt before or wanted, in this early morning. I like the feel of the buzz of the Spirit working rather than the peace of the Spirit resting! But I know we need both.

I see a dove outside on the corner of our flat roof grooming him/her/itself. I see standing with his back against the wood door open in my bedroom a soldier in desert camouflage fatigues? Combat boots, adjusting his weapon over his shoulder, not in haste or panic, shifting his weight from foot to foot, not waiting, maybe a sentry. I pray for him, I ask Jesus to give him protection as tears come to my eyes, knowing he needs that protection, RIGHT NOW. He fades out against the wood door. I flesh out the prayer to cover the urgency, don't know where the soldier is, Iraq, Afghanistan, I don't know why I see him. We are two separate beings, passing today through two separate dimensions, perhaps; we will never know our influences on the other, but we are united by Jesus' love and protection.

I pray for personal friends and acquaintances, for those on my "prayer list". I do not get sleepy during this prayer. Time flies, almost an hour. I pray for God to use me as I already feel I am of use. I "sign off" and start to write it up!

END of journal entry

I've thought many times in the past three months about this interlude in my life, wondering what it all meant, glad I wrote it all down that morning right away or I wouldn't believe it happened that way. Time has a way of softening your memory, of making the edges disappear, but I see the edges very clearly around that soldier, who I still pray for from time to time.

Thanks for reading! Whadda ya think? I have a lot of things happen to me like that. Am I bonkers, or is it a gift? Or both?

I have friends, a pastor and his wife, who spend a Saturday night with me occasionally. We call my bedroom Motel Half, like Motel 6? Not a lot of amenities, but they do get to sleep on the California king-sized bed, clean sheets, lots of pillows, yet they bring their own towels, and breakfast is rye toast or English muffins with some fruit, maybe a smoothie. Sometimes they bring muffins with them, and we chat over coffee ice cream Saturday night before bed.

I was at Home Depot in the gardening area one day as we planned the coming-up weekend on our cells. The usual, because they had other places to go in town Saturday evening before they came to Motel Half, "We don't want to use you...we hate taking your bed," though I never feel used because we are so close. I said, "Oh, I don't mind, that way you get to sleep in the room where I have my visions, like the soldier in camouflage that time." I could hear an audible gulp in my ear on the cell. "Just teasing!" I said, as I laugh out loud.

Hale-Bopp the Comet

07:55P Santa Monica time

I've been having a good time re-reading my journals in rhyme these past few days. Some things you truly forget in detail. Remember Hale-Bopp the comet? Of course, I couldn't let Hale-Bopp go by without some rhyme time. It was so exciting that you could see it with the naked eye in the city of Santa Monica from the street pavement! Here are three items from my 1997 rhyme diary:

Hale-Bopp the Comet (03/25/97 Tue)
Where's the comet?
I can't see it
when I stay inside.
If it'd stop to
pick us all up,
that would be some ride!


Hale-Bopp Revisited (04/01/97 Tue)
Hale-Bopp the Comet,
what a sight!
If you look up to the northwest,
there's its light;
With its million miles of tail
it is vast
and moving fast.
It's excitement in the sky
to see at night!


Reflections of a Comet (04/05/97 Sat)
Wouldn't it be funny if
the earth was in a comet's tail?
What if our little universe
was simply space debris?
It really wouldn't matter since
it wouldn't change our lives a bit
but thinking of it is a little
happy fantasy!


What really brought this to mind was not just re-reading the journals, but thinking how long ago 1997 seems now, thirteen years in real time but light years in technology. If anyone has a little extra time, you can get caught up like me in the Wikipedia link below.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comet_Hale-Bopp

This next link is thumbnails of the Hubble telescope pics in all their glory, such a fantastic site, so much to see if you have time. This is why I never get a lot done, because I'm so easily sidetracked by my internet addiction. But this is simply awe inspiring! A hard internet site to click in and click out of directly.
http://heritage.stsci.edu/gallery/gallery.html

And since today is threes, last but not least, Wikipedia re the Hubble, but first two paragraphs are enough, plus the chart down the right hand side of the screen.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hubble_Space_Telescope

Well, I hope you have enjoyed sharing something you probably never thought you would think about again, Hale-Bopp, the Comet, as it goes zooming away, away, away until it returns around the year 4385 did Wikipedia say? Wonder where I'll be then! Wouldn't it be funny if I was standing out in the street looking for it again......

My Favorite Restaurant - Gilbert's El Indio in Santa Monica

11:45P Santa Monica time

On my way home from our Bible Study group last night, I decided not to fix something with the mushrooms in my frig, but to go to.....Gilbert's!

I'm always comfortable at Gilbert's. Last night I had the booth by the waiters/kitchen entrance. A party of four might not want that spot, but I like it. Lots of to-ings and fro-ings so I never feel lonely. Everybody is friendly with me, consistent good service, and last night the veggie burrito was the best I ever had, anyplace, ever! Covered with red enchilada sauce, that reddish-brownish-tinge-one I love (I ask for that instead of the green), melted cheese all over the top, a huge veggie burrito on the plate, a perfect combination of rice and beans, cheese, lettuce, tomato, slices of avocado all wrapped tidily in a humungous flour tortilla. There must be a secret ingredient tucked away in there, too, or it couldn't be so good. Not spicy; if you like spicy like I do, you eat your burrito with the "nicely spicely" salsa brought to your table with the fresh hot tortilla chips, both refillable if you have the room.

I started this out to be a blog rave, but it's turning out to be a blog ad! I might as well convert it now. The only thing I haven't mentioned is the little bowl of raw carrot "checkers" as Roy used to call carrot slices cut in rounds, marinated in vinegar with onion slices, raw garlic chunks and various green herbs, with some hot red peppers to pretty and spice the serving even more. Oh, yes, and the delicious bottomless iced tea is served with a lemon wedge in handy, easy to hold screw top jars.

Oh, yes, I forget, there are various pitchers of margaritas and beer selections I see on many other tables, but I'm an iced tea person. Which is why my check is only $5.55 for that colossal burrito, plus the tab for iced tea and that nasty (sigh...) 9-3/4% California sales tax! I add the gratuity in true gratitude for the team of people involved in contributing to my pleasure.

Gilbert's is not a vegetarian place, they offer a full Mexican menu and specials. Add meat as a side or your main course, but this veggie burrito with red sauce is worth your time! Don't bring your credit card or checkbook to Gilbert's, it's cash only.

Sign the list at the door when you arrive in the evening hours and plan to wait a little bit at busy times, but it's worth it, and you might make some new friends.

Gilbert's El Indio, 2526 Pico Boulevard, Santa Monica, CA 310 450 8057

So much for Gilbert's right now, my favorite restaurant!

Our Cats and Life July 02 1991 Archive

12:50A Santa Monica time

I was keeping my diary in rhyme in 1991, a stressful year when Roy had a heart valve replaced in January (a St. Jude 23 mechanical model). St. Jude had a reputation for quality and NO failures which we were happy to accept, although we followed the Wall Street Journal faithfully to see if St. Jude was ever mentioned. Roy died at 80 of other maladies in 2008, the St. Jude still clicking away to the end, a unpaid testimony for St. Jude!

My Diary on July 02, 1991:

Maria tucks her head beneath her paw,
Domingo stretches out, quite self-possessed.
Juanita cleans her fur, she's at her best;
Evita's on the chair. She needs her rest.

Roy's tucked between his covers once again,
He's snoring just a bit, but that's okay.
He went to cardiac rehab today.
Life's looking better now, I'm glad to say.

My covers have two cats. There is no law
That says one can't have cats upon the bed
Or that cats have to eat what they are fed
Or that they have to go where they are led.

Sometimes I think how dull life would have been
If things had not occurred the way they did,
For just one cat starts fun to pyramid,
Now we have four, no more, may God forbid.

Miss Peach

Miss Peach Blogs for the First Time

Friday June 04 2010 09:45P Santa Monica time

Hello to the world!

This is Miss Peach, author of 20,000 pages of journals plus yards and yards of texts in the last five years, some funny, some not-so-funny, some grim, some ecstatic, some spiritual, some earthly, as everybody's past five years must have been, wonderful, touching, bittersweet.

I would love to share ideas and good news with others who need to blog or respond for the same reason I do, filled to bursting with Things needing to be written, laughed about, cried about, thought about, read, re-read, shared without intruding on the captive audience of pastor, family and friends.

Does that sound like a Fantasy or a Plan? Unfortunately, the only readers of this first blog will be those captives above-mentioned and hopefully in the future, a stranger or two or three. Wouldn't that just be grand?

Miss Peach