Sunday Scribbling - Learning to Bite as I Age

It takes a lot for me to get into a public spat. But recently I got embroiled in one and it was a most unpleasant experience. It was nearly 1 p.m. when I entered House of Java looking for a cuppa before shopping for the week at Raley's. Q and Erin were coming that week and I actually had meals planned.

I was surprised at how busy it was at HOJ. Where to sit? Lots of after church folks and older couples out for coffee and companionship. As I headed to the ice cream side of HOJ, a carrying voice spoke very persuasively about the proper time for women to preach or could women preach at all. It all sounded very Old Testament though Paul had quite a lot to say about this to the Corinthians.

I had never seen the speaker before (I'll call him Bible Man) but his companion was familiar to me (call him Cowboy Hat Man). I don't know a lot about Cowboy Hat Man but I've seen him around enough that I actually have always felt a little wary of him. Bad vibes. Smart of me to feel this way as I was soon to find out why.

I tucked into a booth counting myself lucky that I had found a seat on the ice cream side. The place was hopping. For a few minutes all was peaceful but then to my right I heard Bible Man who has moved away from his table and directly into my space. He was making a phone call and flipping through his Bible searching for a reference as he was aided by the unseen, unheard speaker on the other end of the line.

And just like that, I was involuntarily drawn into a personal conversation I had no interest in hearing. I'm an unrepentant eavesdropper but at that moment I was in no mood for it. I just felt intruded upon. Clearly, Bible Man was so caught up in his thoughts, he really didn't realize how intrusive he was being.

I sat there for a bit wondering if I had the nerve to ask him to lower his voice. I believed a politely phrased request would not cause any harm but then Cowboy Hat came over and the noise level doubled. So, I spoke up.

Unfortunately, that is when things spun out of control. Bible Man did not hear me and Cowboy Hat was offended. "Hey, I'm not the one talking - excuse me all to hell." Judging by his reaction to my politely phrased request, the self-proclaimed studier of the Bible since youth (oh yes, he said that) clearly had skipped a few chapters and themes.

So, not saying anything to Cowboy Hat, this time I got Bible Man's attention and then quietly repeated my request that he lower his voice. By his reaction, it was clear that he didn't realize how loudly he had been speaking so absorbed was he in his search mission on the phone. He immediately apologised and relocated. Cowboy Hat followed him out saying - "She's upset because we are talking about the Bible." That is when I blew my stack.

Like I said at the beginning here, it takes a lot for me to get into a public spat. But as I've gotten older, my exasperation threshold has become much shallower. I waded right in and snapped at his retreating back, "The Bible topic is not a problem, the noise level is." Cowboy Hat kept right on walking and I'm sure he was smiling. After all, he had gotten a rise out of me. No doubt, mission accomplished. Back to my book I went but my concentration was shot. Soon after, I called Elaine. I needed to talk and she is a voice of sanity.

Remember how busy I said HOJ was when I first came in? Well, not only was it busy but I totally missed the fact that Elaine was already there and she missed me walking past her twice. What a relief. So I picked up and moved to her booth and poured out my frustration.

It seems that the older I get the less I can put up with rudeness. Some people seem to get away with rudeness their entire life. Even if someone calls them on it, they continue - they laugh at you, they look for a reaction and when they get it all is quite right in their world.

I fall into the category of people who just ignore it and let it go. The quieter I am, the sooner they will shut up as I make my getaway. Pretty passive stuff and a lesson I learned early in life. But now I'm older - much older - and the voice inside me is yelling - "You do not have to take this shit." I figure I can't change someone's rude behavior but I do not have to take it either.

Of course, with the decision made, I have to acknowledge that I myself might disturb people around me and be perceived as rude. Typically, I don't consider the fact that people might be privately cheering me on and thanking God that someone actually spoke up. Perhaps I might be seen as a heroine, the woman unafraid of defanging the lion. Fanciful, I know, but well, there you are. . . .

It's interesting that I'm still dwelling on this incident a week later but it's a learning curve I suppose. It took me 61 years to start speaking up. I cannot expect to be comfortable with this new behavior overnight. Elaine re-enforced to me the rightness of what I had done, that it was perfectly alright to not be a doormat, to speak up.

The problem wasn't me politely asking them to lower their voice; the problem was in Cowboy Hat Man, his rejection of my simple request and his judgement that I objected because they were talking about the Bible. This man did not know anything about me AT ALL but he certainly had an opinion about me. Of course, now I have an opinion too but at least I know something that is real and true about him.

I wonder what life will serve up to me next. Mind you - I am not interesting in becoming a female Don Quiote but I'm not going to sit by passively anymore. Bite me and in all likelihood, I will bite back.

Ruby Tuesday - Shelter

Bus stop outside of the art building at work.

Meet Paco

I started collecting bird figures about 2 years ago. During that time, I've been looking for a birdie companion who could go traveling with me. I didn't have an idea of what birdie would look like beyond him being colorful and small. When I met Poncho the Macaw, I started to get an idea of what I might like and yesterday I found my birdie in a most unexpected place, a winery in Murphys, CA.

The winery owners bring a great sense of humor to their winetasting venture and the little parrot below captured my heart. Meet Paco the Parrot and ruler of his world (wherever that might happen to be).

Like any respectable pirate parrot, Paco likes his grog.

And he picks his crew carefully. Today he landed in the midst of some Harley guys on a roadtripping weekend.

Ahoy there Harley man, lift me up so I can see what there is to see.

Paco had a really big first day out. From rescue as a Christmas tree ornament reject to world traveler, the big guy is totally tuckered out as he lands on a handy helm and takes a well-deserved rest.

Ahah me hardies. I'll be seeing you again soon.

Family Pasta Night

I love looking at my mantel. It always feels so cozy, so loaded down with books and things I've collected over the years. This year brought some temporary additions, the little cups and dish in the foreground.

It's mid-March and we are all together finally sharing the last bit of Christmas. Q and Erin came down with the gifts they could not share with us because the weather interferred.

Dave and Yolanda brought an Easter gift for them - the pretty dish towels below - towels that will NEVER be used for cleaning. Even as a placemat, they will be covered with a clear plastic cover.

Our kitchen was filled with people. I'm so NOT used to that. Four people. Four tasks. Not enough space. Salad was completed in the dining room. The cooktop was covered in boiling water for three different kinds of pasta and two different sauces bubble on the side. Asparagus is waiting for a spot and the garlic bread is just sliding into the oven.

But soon all is ready, the table is set, the food is blessed and we are tucked in to a comfort food meal that will long not be forgotten.

Conversation, sharing food, joining together. THAT is what it's all about.

Poncho Snacking

We had lunch again at Los Matetes. I had to share my favorite birdie, Poncho, with Quanah and Erin. That's Ray again to the left keeping us safe from that impressive beak.

Poncho enjoyed a frequently offered snack.

Sepia Scenes #23

Old diners and benches are favorite places for me to collect. Benches tend to be outdoor scenes but today I wandered back to one of my favorite diners and expanded my definition of benches.

Like any moody and emotion-ladened empty bench scene, these two benches await occupants in all of their shiny and reflective glory.

Prayer Request and a beautiful Poem

Please remember my friend today in your thoughts and prayers as she embarks on her rounds of chemotherapy.

Keeping Quiet (A Callarse)

Extravagaria, Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve

and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,

let’s not speak in any language;

let’s stop for one second,

and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment

without rush, without engines;

we would all be together

in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea

would not harm whales

and the man gathering salt

would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,

wars with gas, wars with fire,

victories with no survivors,

would put on clean clothes

and walk about with their brothers

in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused

with total inactivity.

Life is what it is about;

I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded

about keeping our lives movin,

and for once could do nothing,

perhaps a huge silence

might interrupt this sadness

of never understanding ourselves

and of threatening ourselves with death.

Perhaps the earth can teach us

as when everything seems dead

and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve

and you keep quiet and I will go.

Thank you Lea, for sharing this today.

Good Morning and . . .

Good Monday to you all.

I am happily awaiting the arrival of Q and Erin. They are just a few hours away now. By the time I get home from work, they will be here. This pretty sky outside my door this morning pretty much says it all about my joy and anticipation.

Happy Times

I'm so excited. Quanah and Erin will be here Monday for a six day visit. I'm so excited. Lots to do - laundry, clean the back bathroom, get rid of the couch clutter in the bedroom (read that hang up my clothes!!), make a menu for the week, go grocery shopping, make sure I have an extra set of batteries for my camera, etc. etc. etc. SEE YA!!

Sepia Scenes #22

This passed January I received this surprise as a gift from one of our faculty who was on sabbatical in Portugal for the Fall term. He had been sending back via his blog, many fabulous photos and I fell in love with the blue tile the country is famous for.

Today I was at a bit of a loss for what to post for Sepia Scenes and knowing that Franciscan friars typically wear brown, I convert St. Anthony to sepia and gave him a pretty blue frame to keep with the spirit of the Portuguese tradition

Happy St. Paddy's Day!!

Find a fabulous alternative meal and

prepare the soup ingredients the night before.

Gather the flavor for the brisket

Join all together for 8 hours and slowly cook

Don't forget to prepare the Irish coffee.

Heavy on the Irish. Light on the coffee.

Dress the table with mom's china

Shred the brisket

Cook the cabbage

Stir the potato soup

Craft the rolls into sandwiches and broil for just one minute

Plate and serve

Gather friends. Remember who is absent. Give thanks and gratitude.

Happy St. Patrick's Day to you all, my friends.

Poor Puppy

There is nothing more pathetic than an injured Chihuahua. Tanner's broken nail necessitated a trip to the vet and complete removal. It will heal in about a month. This is Tanner's first injury and hopefully his last. He has proven that he is inately quite good at being completely pathetic. Mommy has been moved to giving him more hugs than usual and grandma and grandpa are not far behind in giving lots of lovies to the grand-doggy.

Tanner is quite comfy in his favorite spot - nestled in to whatever lap is available.

Two days later he is walking around again but still likes to show off his injury.

However, wrapped paw or not, he did not lose his begging skills.

(As seen at last night's St. Paddy's Day dinner - coming up in another post)

Tree Spirits

There is a certain time of year when tree spirits are most visible to us if we would only watch for them carefully. There is that short moment when the weather clears and we venture out again into the clear clement weather that we experience just on the very edge of spring. Along the roadsides and across the farmland fields, the oak trees of the Central Valley are still waking up from their winter sleep. But, we are out. We are invited by bright sun and cotton ball puffs of clouded skies to explore the back roads once again.


Red barns and green fields greet us on our passage. Ahead of us an ancient oak reaches out to welcome us. But WHAT an oak it is. Wild and thick, he hovers over the road, his center hacked and chopped by an unfeeling roadkeeper intent only on accomplishing his mission - to keep the road clear of the overhanging arms.

It is during this short moment in time that the tree spirits are most vulnerable. One emerges from the hacked heart of the tree, caught in its quick motion of scurrying over the gnarled limbs, not yet covered in the sheltering foliage that keeps the spirit secreted and safe from prying eyes.

He stretches out, head up and alert. If I remain very still he may move just right to show me his shy self. Head poised, arms balancing him, legs awkwardly placed - he twists and reveals his so terribly thin left thigh. And then . . .

. . . I am gone. Feeling blessed that I caught a glimpse of this shy creature, I roll off into the oak parkland of the valley, looking for more spirits. But now I'm looking for sky spirits, clouds and mountain peak snows meeting and kissing each other in greeting in another of those short precious moments before the horizon turns and rotates away.

The Reflection

Robyn at Tales of Inglewood has a relation, Paul, whom I've had listed on my sidebar Prayer List for a while now. Paul's brain tumor was considered inoperable but tonight I received an update from her that should remind us, yet again, to never give up hope. In Robyn's words, here is her update -

Paul is now in Prince of Wales hospital under a specialist called Dr Teo - a neurosurgeon who has success with this kind of tumour... not sure where this will all go but Paul is being operated on, this Monday.. so I ask that you continue sending love, prayers and light.

Photo of a stained glass window at St. Anthony's Church reflecting on the opposite wall as the sunlight spills through.

Sepia Scenes #21

IMG_0038, originally uploaded by AnnieElf.

The original of this photograph reveals beautiful muted pastels that are complimentary to the age of these statutes and the age of the church they can be found in. Cropping and aging here gives them the old feel to go with the age of the church and the time when color was not possible.

The original of this picture can be found here as you scroll to the bottom of the link.

Ruby Tuesday - By Popular Demand

Poncho is one handsome fellow. He nipped me good last week and I have the bruise to show for it!

Roadtripping detail - Part I

Elaine and I were roadtripping again, this time following J9 east through the California farmland of the Central Valley and up into the foothills to one of the many lakes and reservoirs that dot the area.

Every hill and turn in the road was an opportunity to see a surprise, find a photo op, and offer the chance for E to stand on her brakes. It's a gift and E does it so well. Unbeknownst to us, we were approaching the town of Hopeton, now little more that a memory and a sign on the side of the road.

In the early 1850s settlers came to the rivers and streams of Merced County and established homes. The vast fertile areas along the streams were used for livestock raising and agriculture, and almost invariably the ranch houses on the through road became inns. Finally, centers of trade grew up about some of them.

After the advent of the railroad, however, trade deserted the old river towns and they became little more than memories. Located on the Merced River six miles below Snelling was Hopeton, at first known as the "Forlorn Hope." It was chiefly notable for the fact that it possessed two churches before Snelling had any.

One of them was St. John the Baptist Catholic Church. There are no services there now but the small church is beautifully maintained and there is the occasional wedding or funeral that is still held there by the local families. Once a year the church comes alive with a Mass and a huge Portuguese Festa. Read here for fascinating details of the Portuguese Festas of the Central Valley of California. For those of you who follow Corey's beautiful blog, Tongue in Cheek, read here and here for her personal memories of Portuguese Festas. And if you saw this post here, then as promised, what follows is the unexpected surprise that greeted us when we entered through the church doors.

The Sanctuary of the Church

Altar, Tabernacle and Crucifix

Even though this church is not used for services anymore, it is still a consecrated church. Weddings, funerals, and the Festa are held here and someone or someones lovingly care for the church interior keeping it cleaned and dusted and filled with wild flowers in glass vases.

The Infant Jesus of Prague with St. Anthony. (left)





St. Martin De Porres and Our Lady of Fatima (right)

Our Mother

St. Joseph with the baby Jesus, St. John the Baptist, and the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

One of the remarkable etched windows of this church. Catholic churches are notable for their stained glass windows. This church and its unusual collection of etched windows is a testimony to the poverty of the early settler and their desire for adorned windows even though they could not afford stained glass.

Click on the window to see the enlarged details.

Elaine, silhouetted in the doorway.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.

Amen.

I Roadtripped today . . .

. . . and made an amazing discovery.

Here is a little taste of what I found

on the other side of these doors.

There is much more to come.

Something we should never forget.

Sepia Scenes #20

Triplets II, originally uploaded by AnnieElf.

Visiting Poncho

Every time I go downtown running errands, I have to stop by and see my good buddy, Poncho. Poncho is an 8 year old macaw and friendly though he is, his bite packs quite a wallop. I know. I'm nursing a sore spot on my arm today. Poncho was not initially to happy about saying hello. But then his daddy came out (daddy owns the restaurant where Poncho lives) and Poncho perked right up and hopped on. A little arm dancing and hair picking later, not to mention eating a really good carnitas burrito, and I'm heading back to work.

Poncho nozzles with his daddy.