Yes, Magic Sand!

Out the window

It's crisp and cold this morning, the sky a sharp blue, the air showing off the warm breath of the workers across the street. Around 8:30 a.m. vast amounts of lumber arrived, all perfectly cut and stacked in piles like flat Lincoln Logs. Since it's so early, the door to the bright red port-a-potty near the house owner's mailbox swings open and shut. All of the workers are trying to "take care of business" before the Main Event: Cement!

The cement mixer is expected any minute. We know it is coming because my sweet neighbor is very organized. A typed sheet is delivered once or twice a week that outlines what will be happening and, sometimes, what we need to do to be ready. Today, we all had to park somewhere else so the giant mixer could fit down our little street. It will dump it's soupy grey load in the pre-built molds and trenches that have been dug around the little old house, expanding its 1954 footprint so that (at the very least) man and woman can have separate places to pee.

The workers wear their uniforms, all similar, yet none the same. Clothes chosen because they are warm, washable and soiled through. Thick sweatshirts, scuffed leather boots, dented hard hats in all colors. And of course those jeans. Pants fulfilling their original purpose, with little pockets for screws and bolts, belt loops for hammers and keys and phones, deeper pockets for bandannas, electrical tape and chilly, chapped fingers. One man stands out with wearing a bright white T-shirt and new silver helmet. Temp worker, I'm guessing.

The mixer is here! It is huge and white with bold red letters that swirl around as it spins, "RIGHT AWAY REDY MIX." Oh dear. All of the other spellings must have been trademarked. I have heard that it must keep turning like that or the cement begins to set, and the truck would be ruined. The chute in the back is directed into a smaller type of vehicle. My husband says that this other machine mixes the concrete with water and such, then pumps it into the allotted location. The two men that arrived with the cement mixer seem cocky and sure of themselves. Checked shirts and baseball caps. They are above the fray, just dropping off, don't get attached to us, and thank you very much.

Watching the cement pour out, I am reminded of a strange product from my early toy-selling days. It was some sort of sand-based toy. You let wet sand dribble down and built odd underwater towers by directing its flow with your fingers. Magic Sand? Hmm. I will google it later.

I envy these workers. I envy their tasks, their focus, their camaraderie, and those comfy work clothes. Most of all, in this time of ,"who am I and what am I going to do with my life?" I envy what I project on to them, on to anyone who has a job. I envy that sense of purpose and accomplishment.

Jack the cat has propped himself against my body, resting his head on my left hand, making it difficult to type. But he is so docile and soft I hate to disturb him.

So for now I say goodbye.

Funny about squirrels and the recession…

Here we are, my husband and myself, struggling financially in the most awful way. Really frightened for the first time in our lives. No work in sight. Hope draining away. And there are those goddamn squirrels out back. Day in, day out, gathering 4-inch acorns that just keep falling, falling, falling.

If we lived in the wilds, growing food, caring for animals, harvesting sunshine, would we be in these desperate straights? Do we need to abandon our ways and plummet backwards? And what then? Will the acorns fall for us, too?

I do not have this knowledge.

I wish I did.

An Email to My 19-Year-Old Baby in Paris

Hi Sweetie!
Well, I had a hard day at the bookstore. Worked my first all day shift and my back feels like poop. So let's take a stroll down memory lane to cheer us up... :-D

In July of 1990, when you were just 7 months old, we took our first family trip. We rented a cabin right outside Yosemite Valley. It was snug and cozy, with warm wooden floors, and lots of windows. The house was surrounded by tall pine trees, and the bone-dry ground was carpeted with fragrant pine needles that crunched underfoot. During the day, we took little jaunts to all of the "not-to-be-missed" sites in the valley. Each evening, after a day of adventures and exploring, I would bathe you in the large kitchen sink with lovely warm water and golden baby shampoo until you were squeaky clean. You splashed and poured water from the bright plastic nesting cups we brought from home. I remember the soothing sound of dad playing lute while we were busy at the sink a few yards away. One night, you decided it was time to crawl. This was a very exciting development! As with many children, you crawled backwards first. So there we were, in a cozy cabin, fire crackling in the hearth, and sweet little Miss Molly, crab walking backwards around and around the two worn out sofas.
I especially recall a day by the river, both of us "girls" in our swimming suits, you playing quietly with rocks and sticks in the sand, me reading some good book. After a few hours, and some yummy snacks, we both got sleepy and snuggled together on our blanket under a big rainbow umbrella. Sheer bliss.
When we went to see the Giant Sequoias, Daddy wore the baby backpack with you perched way up high. As we hiked along, you bounced happily, all three of us enjoying the enormous trees. You had such round rosy cheeks and big saucer-sized blue eyes that looked and looked and looked at the world.

You are still that baby, plus all of the other "Mollys" that have come and gone, changed and grown. You are my best girl, and you are such a joy!

I love you.

Sour Cream Blackberry Muffins

Sincerely, sometimes all you need is a really good muffin.

Gather together:
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon baking powder
2 large eggs
1 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon milk
2/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 stick melted butter
2 cups blackberries
(About 50 fresh berries, rinsed and patted dry on paper towels)

Preheat oven to 400°F.
Line 12 cup muffin pan with paper cups and spray top of pan with PAM.

BOWL 1) Mix flour, baking powder and salt.
BOWL 2) Whisk eggs, sour cream, sugar, milk, warm butter and vanilla.

Fold wet ingredients into dry until the dry ingredients are moistened. You will still have some dry mixture showing. The batter should be very lumpy. Fill muffin cups 1/2 way, add 4 or 5 berries, then top with more batter. Or you can just poke berries into the top of filled cups. Fun and messy for kids!

Bake until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean
15-20 minutes. Let cool a bit before devouring.

Fly

My life is way too fragile,
A teeming world contained,
Like an inner thriving pond,
Threatened by loss or gain.



How can I construct,
A better growing place,
Balanced and unaffected,
By my life’s own embrace?

Do I have the tools,
Using hands, mind, wit,
To tinker with my engines,
Making all the pieces fit?

It’s time to leap ahead,
Trusting in those wings,
I always knew were there,
Yet never dared to spread.

On the Fence

Moving away from a community where you're completely settled is like yanking out nose hair. Or in my case, just deciding to move away. I keep tottering on the edge: Go forward. Stay still. Go forward, stay still. Those words are chugging around in my mind like train wheels. The fear of change is paralyzing. I love our life here. Family, neighbors, too-small-house and all. But we moved to this town when my child was 5 in order to improve her chances for a better education. It was a gift from the gods to find this house, this life. Now my baby is grown, brilliant, and happy—and we are in debt above our eyebrows. It was the right choice, but it can't continue. Recession. Work is disappearing for me, and since my husband is also freelance, we must do what was referred to in Persuasion (my favorite book) as "retrench."

So, I think the decision has been made for us by the current housing market and recession. We must move, and there are very few places we can get what we want for how much we'll have and still... Stay within 2 hours of my family, have a bigger house/some acreage, be within 30 minutes of a Kaiser. And Auburn looks like that place. So I need to get off the fence. CAN SOMEONE GIVE ME A GOD DAMN PUSH???