quirks.

i am quirky, and more so as i age.

just a few:

for being very germaphobic, my house is not as clean as you would think it is.
this leads me to believe that i might actually ENJOY being a germaphobe more then i like to ACT upon it. of course, i have a three year old and she destroys any and all cleaning i do on a daily basis, so....

i read cookbooks like novels. they are soo comforting.

i like to eat-and even though i have issues with my weight since i had my second little girl 5 months ago, i am not ashamed to admit that i like food and that i like to eat food, and that every time i have a fantastic memory, it pretty much involves something good to eat......and WHY dont women ever talk about food? and things to eat? and what to eat? and where? WHY is it some BIG secret? is it because secretly we are walking around thinking we are fat, so therefore we think we are fooling everbody by pretending food doesnt exist?

i will let you in on a secret- even when i am not overweight from childbearing, i STILL love food and love to talk about it too.
and i have a theory- i think we would all be our most perfect weight if we brought food back into our lives the way it was MEANT to be- sustaining, comforting, nourishing, exciting.
(especially these days with the organic, local, slow food movement, and more and more restaurants adopting this philosophy with artisinal food)

so, ladies. dont be afraid. no more of this "ill just have a water" bullshit. eat. its good for you. (if you dont like butter, we probably are not friends...)

i re-read my favorite childhood books once or twice a year.
betsy and tacy.
little house on the prairie.
a tree grows in brooklyn..
i find so much comfort as an adult in books that comforted me as a child.

and speaking of children...

it has been hotter then hot here, and, writing was impossible because we the one fan we had to be blasting in front of the girls...weird, still, to say "girls" plural.....i cant believe i have two, where does the TIME GO??????

our lives are changing, and soon, we will be taking a trip to cali, and seeing our families, and having some fun....its been a while since we had some fun. this past year was about work. which is neccessary but not neccessarily fun.

it is very surreal, all this change, the shift is big for our family, my husband and can move on, and so can i.
knowing that

its been sooo hot, that i have not been able to write- or do anything, really, except breastfeed and try to keep my little ones cool. that means parking our butts in front of the fan and not moving.
and sweating.
and drinking a lot of ice water.

it was cooler by 20 degrees this morning when we woke up, and even though it is supposed to be a 100 today, it probably wont heat up that much until this afternoon.
its manageable, right now, thank goodness.
no AC is no bueno when its 107!

this summer has been all about transitioning our family from one kid to two. our three year old has been really great, for the most part, becoming a big sister, and we are finding our groove.

its getting easier.

its 102 degrees here today.

the fan is just swirling the swelter.

c a n t

d o

a n y t h i n g

farmers markets and such.

went to the farmers market today and carried my huge day of the dead bag, you know, the kind you get in mexico, and had the baby in the sling with her sunhat on, and it was sunny so i had to pull her hat real low, and all you could see was a sunhat peeking over the black sling, and i looked at purple peppers and sheep cheese, cherry tomatoes the size of eggs and eggs the size of small eggplants,rainbow chard and kale and mid july flowers, bread, and the berries.
oh lord, the berries.
not just your ol' blueberries and blackberries, either.
but gold raspberries, marionberries, logan berries, tiny currants the color of a very elegant ladies lips, berries that were crossed with other berries, berries so fragile that they wrapped them twice, the slightest bruise turned them into jam, and they were so fragrant my car filled with their scent immediately.
i saw people carrying whole flats of them, filled with every kind of berry imaginable, a platter from the gods, but designed by the goddesses, in the hot sun they looked like jeweled beads come straight to heal us all.
the sun beat down and my baby slept and the berries and the breads, and the cheese with names like "adelle" and "valentine" and my big bag filled with chard and berries and cheese and butter (tasted like the sun itself, slathered on bread) and cucumbers and tomatoes so red and juicy they dripped all over themselves and needed no accompaniment, i bought a bouquet of these lacy, yellow flowers and the stems were so long i had to carry the flowers above my head and they engulfed my torso when i glimpsed my shadow in the asphalt. i am not a gourmet, but you sure could call me a gourmand, i love me some food, especially straight from the farm, picked/baked/prepared that day, by loving hands, slowly.
but i got me a bit of americana in me too- (all of my people and my peoples people hail from the south except for my fathers mother, who came from italy) and i can eat hash browns, grits, and biscuits with the best of em.
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i wrote the above on sunday and am just now finding the time to write again....whoooo, wee, its hot and the girls are taking a nap TOGETHER, blessedly, and i think i am going to read in front of the fan.

and dream about spain.

i think we are going there..soon..

seaquest.

i had the privilege of living, last year, at seaquest ranch.


it was in the foothills of olivenhain, a tiny community nestled between rancho santa fe, carlsbad, and encinitas.


i lived 3 miles up a winding road, and to get there, you had to pass million dollar homes, stables with thoroughbred horses in them. you drove until the dirt stopped and then you drove another mile straight up. when you got to the top, you saw the sign for the natural habitat and it was all sagebrush and manzanita and eucalyptus and cactus.


it was like mexico.


the woman with lots of mascara and who had raised two sons there had built the house with her husband. there was a barn and a tire swing and 360 degree views- east were hills, dotted with the occasional house, north was the dirt road, south was more hills and the golf course of rancho santa fe, and west was the ocean.


there were spiders, snakes, snails, coyotes, bobcats, deer, rabbits, butterflies, and the sun was hotter.


i would find little scorpions in my cereal bowl.


the trees had tendrils that hung down like ropey goddess hair, and it was sandy and gritty and like nothing else i had ever seen.


the house itself was like a ranch house, with wood paneling and a vague nautical feel.


there were lots of drawers and closets and mirrors. there were a ton of dusty windows, the old fashioned roll out kind, so that when you drove up to the house, when all the windows were open, it made the house look jolly and bright.


there was a bench out side where you could sit and look at the vistas all around you.


there was a screen door that i kept locked from the inside so my daughter, only 17 months at the time, could not toddle out.


i lived on one side and the woman who owned the house lived on the other. she lived in hawaii 7 months out of the year, and so for more then half the time i lived there, i was isolated and alone with my daughter on top of the ranch/houseboat/cabin/ on top of the hill over looking the sea.


i would go to trader joes and buy dahlias and roses and freesias and put them in vases all around the house, and the breeze would blow the curtains and it was so magical and yet i knew i would not live there forever so i just tried to let it absorb in me.


i lived at seaquest ranch.


or rather, seaquest ranch lives in me.

snapshots of my life...

today, just some images from my life...thanks for looking!

who are we?

who are we?
that is what my daughter asks me several times a day.
she means, where are we.
but i often wonder....

who are we?

what i know for sure that we are NOT:

our bodies
our parents
our childhoods
our hometowns
our friends
our cars, clothes, bank accounts, the house we live in, our memories, our children, our scores on our tests, our flaws and faults, our husband/wives, our sadness.

what i think we are? (hope we are)

the souls living in our bodies
our dreams
our instinct
our laughter
our lessons
our hopes
our wishes, our good deeds, our wisdom, our kindness, our love.

not to be all utopian about it all or anything.

my dreams are sometimes so vivid i can taste them- the day after the full moon moon light flooded in my bedroom last night, my daughters sleeping on either side of me, all girly breath and pure sweetness, and the room was lit up and you know moon light is silvery and ancient feeling and liquid and cool and powerful and mysterious and otherworldly and my dreams were infused with that kind of moon light and it felt so poignant to be dreaming there and i wondered if i have dreamt before with my daughters around me, if i have known them before, or they me, and time slowed and i all i could here was the breeze and the ticking of the clock and the silvery moonshine and tears filled my eyes because i feel like, almost, that my daughters girlhoods are already gone, somehow, or perhaps it is because i know that they will not stay little girls and so every day i try to remember this sacred act of being their mama.

of course, i cannot possibly hold that in my thoughts constantly or i would never get anything done, i would want to hold them to me as close as possible for ever.

i see myself aging in the mirror and while i admit there are no longer many reasons to be vain, i have a sense of peace that i assume only comes with age since i certainly did not have it when i was young and in the throws of being beautiful.
i may no longer have that same kind of beauty but my goodness, i have made up for it in a sense of humor and a lot more peace.
so.
time marches on.
my nasturtiums, lavender, basil, rosemary and geraniums continue to grow. this pacific northwest weather continues to perplex me. i hold on, fiercely but gently to the dreams that are my own only, i sleep and nurse my baby and laugh with my three year old and wash grapes and swing swings and read books and pray and eat and watch as my life gently shifts s l o w l y~

who are we?

i look into my daughters eyes and see the women they will become.
i seem to be turing into a psychic witchy woman, no longer afraid of death or dying or being alone.

that is not to say i do not feel sad or mad or bad.
i do, sometimes.
but something is happening to me- it is internal, perhaps it is lack of sleep and too much coffee and uncertainty about the future, but i am changing.
and it is quiet and real and strong.
its like all of a sudden i am accepting my self- my childhood, my past, my parents, my body, my life.

there is something in my fingertips- i feel creativity sparks shooting out from them.....

another day, the same, but NOT.

tomorrow i will try to be better.

who are we?