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