Happy New Year’s Eve!
123123 is a once-in-a-century date won’t be seen again until December. 31, 2123. According to astrologer Narayana Montúfar, “Number 1 brings the very spark of initiation, 2 focuses on building, and 3 is related to the concept of creation. Together, the sequence of these three numbers speaks of the spark of initiation that seeks to build a new creation.”
High Surf Warning, dangerously large breaking waves of 8 to 12 feet with sets to 15 + feet.
The larger waves are south of where I am –at Sunset Cliffs and La Jolla, but I went to my local beach to check it out, and the surf was impressive here, too. In Northern California, they’re reporting ginormous waves of 28 to 33 feet, up to possibly forty feet! I’d love to see waves like that from a safe distance, of course.
Again, there were dolphins, way out beyond the waves, and no way to get a decent photo.
These are two Imgur videos; some people can open them, and I’ve heard that a few can’t, so I’m sorry in advance. They’re pretty cool. It was a lovely morning.
There have been highly unusual sightings of orca whales in San Diego county but I didn’t see them either, I’m sad to report.
From TMZ, check out these videos of Santa Cruz and Ventura!
https://www.tmz.com/2023/12/29/massive-socal-waves-crash-street-onlookers-dangerous-flood-advisory-ventura/
What a way to end 2023!
I’m not referring to the James Bond spy film, but lately some treasures from Russia have found their way home with me.
[I don’t even want to get started on the politics of Putin — he’s an absolutely horrible person and now among the world’s most hated, and for good reason.]
Since part of my family emigrated from Russia and Ukraine, probably to escape the vicious pogroms, I have an inherent affection for Russian collectibles. (Also ballet and vodka, haha.)
I have a hazy memory of playing with some Russian/Ukranian nesting dolls, or maybe it was simply my overly overactive imagination because I certainly don’t have them now, and I know that I would never have discarded them.
I went to Goodwill and saw this complete five-piece set of Russian nesting dolls for $3.99. I have a feeling that no one knew what they were, that the largest doll opened up, so SCORE for me.
The matryoshka, or nesting doll, is one of the most quintessential representations of traditional Russian peasant life, as a relic of quaint serf culture. Russian children learned to count with these handpainted beauties. Matryoshka dolls are used to illustrate the unity of body, soul, mind, heart, and spirit.
I can add the dolls to the beautiful Kohkloma bowls and spoons that were gifted by a generous neighbor.
In the mid-17th century certain handmade goods being created in the village of Khokhloma. Tableware was carved out of wood and then primed with clay, linseed oil. and tin powder before being hardened in a kiln. The result was then painted with floral patterns in red, black, and gold. One theory as to how the craft first started is that “Old-Believers” hiding out in forests around Khokhloma used these techniques to make it appear that the items were made out of something more substantial than wood and that gold was actually used in their decoration.
I have a Russian lacquer box that my mom gave me when I was in high school. She told me it was very special and I should always save the box it came in, which I did. It’s signed by the artist on the back and numbered, which makes me think it might be valuable. (No, the Angel Kids can’t have THIS box.) I wish I had started to collect them; I’ll put that on my wish list.
Maybe one day I’ll find an authentic Faberge egg at a thrift store and end up on Antiques Roadshow. A girl can dream, right?
I lovelove this song, and it’s perfect for the last full moon of 2023.
“It’s a marvelous night for a moon dance
With the stars up above in your eyes.”
Today, December 26, the full moon is in Cancer. Because of that, we might experience heightened emotions and feel some déjà vu. This Cold moon is all about healing old wounds, tapping into the supernatural, and accessing our intuition. It’s a reminder to sit in stillness with practices of introspection and awareness.
“You know the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush…”
Last night, the moon shone so brightly through the window that it woke me up. I’m glad I had remembered to put my crystals outside on the deck to savor the full moon’s cleansing energy.
Happy almost 2024!
Art curated from Pinterest
“What’s magical, sometimes, has deeper roots than reason.”
Mary Oliver
Art curated from Pinterest
“Grandmama, can I have this?”
We’ve all heard the proverb, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” and I’m proud to say my DNA of hoarding and obsession for shiny baubles is alive and well and thriving in this next generation.
When they find something around here that they want/need, these Angel Kids call me Grandmama. I love that extra syllable. I AM a mom and a grandma, so it works.
They like to inspect every room like a couple of CSI forensic detectives, searching for whatever might strike their fancy among my little treasures, along with an extraordinary ability to suss out anything new that’s been added since their last visit, like my penguin box.
I especially like that they ASK and don’t simply TAKE. It really makes all the difference.
“Grandmama, can I have this sparkly box?”
“Yes.”
“I want one too, can I have THIS one?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmama, can I have this Hello Kitty bracelet?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmama, can I have these pearls?”
“Yes.”
(We’re not talking about my real pearls, just a couple strands of fake ones and some pearls used in jewelry making.)
At some point in the day, they opened a closet and discovered my crafty area with shelves of boxes and drawers full of polished rocks and seashells and gems and beach glass and sparkly beads.
“Grandmama, can we have some?”
“Yes.”
Between the two of them, there was a wild feeding frenzy. They sat on the floor, their individual piles of loot growing and growing.
“OMG, LOOK AT THE GEMS!”
“Can I have the blue ones?”
“Can I have the green ones?”
“Look you guys, I’ll find containers for each of you and yes, you can take what you want. All I ask is that you work together and don’t argue about who takes what. Compromise and share. Do we have a deal?”
OK, Grandmama, we can do that. Even the big pearls?
“Yes, even those.”
“DAD, GRANDMAMA SAID WE CAN BRING ALL OF THE TREASURES HOME!”
As happy as that makes those Angel Kids, I wonder if they have any idea at all how happy it makes ME to be able to make THEM deliriously happy.
A total win-win. DNA RULES!
It’s the shortest day; the longest night.
To Know the Dark
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.–Wendell Berry
This is a magical moment. It’s not simply a day on the calendar; it’s actually a very specific moment when the sun stands still, which is over almost as soon as it has begun, and winter begins. This physical changing of the seasons is a powerful time to manifest spiritual transformations.
I awoke at dawn to honor the spirit of the solstice — from the backyard, a pink sunrise in a blue sky. It rained all night and more is on the way, but for now it’s clear and sunny.
From the front yard, check out this glorious skyfire, a perfect celebration for the solstice, safer than a bonfire!
I’ve always had red and pink zygocacti, and for some reason, mine bud and bloom several times a year, whether they’re labeled Thanksgiving/Christmas/Easter cactus.
I’ve been seeing other, amazing colors of these flowering succulents. I couldn’t resist this white Schlumbergera that I found at Trader Joe’s for about five dollars. This is her very first flower. Check out the magenta stamen. It’s absolutely stunning. The Chanel-inspired pot was a Daiso treasure.
I’m in LOVE. I can’t wait until all the other buds open.
Do you see that double bud? It’s ridiculously easy to make me happy.
I spent the day in the gardens, front and back. Neighbors dropped by to chat and comment on our beautiful weather in anticipation of much needed rain.
One neighbor recently got a sweet Golden Retriever that spent too many years at a disgusting Amish puppy mill and is now living her best life. A few minutes later, a young couple walked by with a newborn, their first. Kids rode by on their bikes and e-bikes on their way to play tennis at the park.
It was a wonderful, happy, Southern California kind of day, and I got a lot of work done, filling up three yard waste cans.
Even the butterflies seemed to be more active than usual, perhaps trying to sip as much nectar as possible before the rain or a southerly migration. I tried to snap some pics but they absolutely wouldn’t stay still long enough!
It made me think of that really old song, Elusive Butterfly. It’s beautiful, sad, poignant, even melancholy, but there I was, chasing that elusive butterfly — I could so relate.
Imagine how happy I was to learn that my fave Leon Russell played piano on this song, along with Henry Diltz (Banjo), Carol Kaye (Bass), and Hal Blaine (Drums). I had no idea!
Here’s previous butterfly photos, and these guys knew how to properly model.
I’m still obsessed with the lyrics of Elusive Butterfly
You might wake up some mornin’
To the sound of something moving past your window in the wind
And if you’re quick enough to rise
You’ll catch a fleeting glimpse of someone’s fading shadow
Out on the new horizon
You may see the floating motion of a distant pair of wings
And if the sleep has left your ears
You might hear footsteps running through an open meadow
Don’t be concerned, it will not harm you
It’s only me pursuing somethin’ I’m not sure of
Across my dreams with nets of wonder
I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love
You might have heard my footsteps
Echo softly in the distance through the canyons of your mind
I might have even called your name
As I ran searching after something to believe in
You might have seen me runnin’
Through the long-abandoned ruins of the dreams you left behind
If you remember something there
That glided past you followed close by heavy breathin’
Don’t be concerned, it will not harm you
It’s only me pursuing somethin’ I’m not sure of
Across my dreams with nets of wonder
I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love
Across my dreams with nets of wonder
I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love
“Grandma, what’s THIS?”
Angel Girl asks the question as she squeezes the back of my upper arm.
“Is that FAT?”
“Why is your arm so FAT right there?”
“Hey, T, come see Grandma’s FAT!”
That’s a call to action no big brother could resist. Angel Boy runs in, takes a hunk of the back of my upper arm and confirms his sister’s diagnosis.
“That’s a lot of fat, Grandma!”
I hear the unmistakeable sound of the original Angel Boy snickering in the other room. I bet it’s all deja vu for him as he must recall torturing me the same way.
Out of the mouths of babes, right?
I’m shaking my head; the apple definitely doesn’t fall far from the tree, not with these guys.
“Oh jeez, it’s SKIN, girl. Everyone has SKIN.”
She lifts her own perfectly formed and toned upper arm to show me. “I don’t. My arm doesn’t look like that.”
Mom chimes in, “Wait until you’re older. Come here and help me with breakfast. Let Grandma finish dressing!”
Her brother lifts his wiry arm (built just like his dad)… “Not me either, Grandma. See MY arm?”
I query the other grownups, “Where did she learn all this fat shaming? Sheesh, I thought nowadays children learned to be inclusive and accepting of all of our differences. What’s up with this?”
While I’m speaking, Angel Girl is following me around, squeezing my arms and laughing hysterically. I can’t help it, now I’m laughing, too–because, at the end of the day, it’s just funny. She’s always been hyperfocused and hypercritical of my each and every detail –from my hair to my shoes, and this is no different.
“Jeez Louise, girl, goodness gracious sakes alive, you’re killing me.”
She’s not being rude, if that’s your conclusion–she would never intend to hurt my feelings – it’s simply a case of speaking her truth. I’m one thousand percent sure that she would naturally censor herself with her pre-K classmates, but I’m different, and it’s OK to practice life skills on me.
I’m her pet project, the Little Grandma, with apparently endless patience.
Both of the Angel Kids are fascinated by my diminutive size…
“My hands are almost as big as yours, Grandma!” (This is a continual hand-to-hand ritual measurement every time we see each other to gauge how much they’ve grown.)
“Look, I can wear your shoes now!”
“Can I have your Hello Kitty shirt, Grandma! It fits ME!”
“Why are you so small?”
“Stand still! I am LITERALLY almost as tall as you are!”
And that’s true. I’m five feet and that 7.5 year-old truly is nearly my size.
That’s the time I tell them that the best presents come in small packages, but since that’s not their life experience, they shake their heads and laugh.
Thanks to Angel Girl’s eagle eyes, I have to silently agree that I need to focus more work on my triceps.
Brutal honesty. BRUTAL. Brutally honest.
