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?

tuesday bluesday.

i saw an african woman walking along side a rural road today.
she was wearing bright yellow and blue and purple with a white and pink scarf that fluttered around her body like a flag.
she was walking by a green field with yellow flowers in it, and the sun was shining on her and i drove past her wishing for my camera.
but there are somethings you cannot capture. the vision inspired me to paint it.

i took my three year old to visit a preschool today, to see if she would like it. the kids weren't there, just the teacher, and she loved the atmosphere.
when it was time to go, she refused to say goodbye because she wanted to stay and play. she stomped her foot and hid behind me and ran off and became sullen and kind of rude.
all this after i explained how gentle and sensitive she is, how i was worried she would be bullied since she has basically no interaction with other children.
!
the teacher understood and we went along our way.
i am going to sob when my first baby goes to school for four hours for the first time next monday.
i just cant believe she is old enough and ready for this brand new experience in her life. i mean, i wont be there! what if she needs me? what if she hates it? what if there are mean kids? what if SHE is mean? what if this is the beginning of her leaving me to forage for herself in this often cruel and harsh world and i cannot for anything make her a baby again for just one more second?
good grief, it could make a somewhat normal person like me (yeah right who am i kidding saying i'm normal?) want to have a baby in the house all the time!
thank goodness i have a baby in the house.
she smells like milk and dandelion fluff and sunlight. her nature and temperament are so jolly and sweet and easy. i drink her in every second i get, nibbling her toes, blowing raspberries on her tummy, squeezing her dimpled rolls and folds and juicy plumpness.
i try to to do that to my three year old, but she wipes off my kisses. i made her a daisy chain on top of a grassy hill in a slant of sun yesterday and she kissed me out of the blue on the cheek and then ran down the hill giggling. she gives you love ONLY when shes in the mood.
its crazy how my little girls are so different from each other.

my husband and i wrote a song today. very bluesy.
i love that the older i get i care less about what people think of me- i just sang and it felt great.

now if i can just finish that painting...