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The World of Literature Lost a Great One – Cormac McCarthy

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“Keep a little fire burning; however small, however hidden.”
—Cormac McCarthy, The Road

While his raw, savage, and uncompromising style of writing wasn’t REALLY my cup of tea as I’m an unashamed fan of happily-ever-after chick lit, I have read a couple of books by Cormac McCarthy.

MY habit of skipping over sections that contain any sort of violence probably causes me to miss a lot of narrative, but I think I come away with the gist of his message regarding the human affinity for brutality, which I personally abhor.

Even so, I can still be awed by his ability to convey the darkest sides of humanity (inhumanity) and his unflinching bare bones descriptions of people and places I’m happy I never met.

I read that McCarthy was very much influenced by William Faulkner, one of my favorite authors.

I haven’t seen the films adapted from his novels for the same reason I only touched the outer edges of his published works — the dark side doesn’t appeal to me.

Wiki recalls McCarthy this way: “Cormac McCarthy was an American writer who authored twelve novels, two plays, five screenplays, and three short stories, spanning the Western and postapocalyptic genres. He was known for his graphic depictions of violence and his unique writing style, recognizable by a sparse use of punctuation and attribution.”

Cormac McCarthy won the Pulitzer Prize for The Road. It was recently reported that another of his novels, Blood Meridian, will be made into a feature film directed by John Hillcoat, who directed the film adaptation of The Road.

Another Exquisite Disaster

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We had been playing house with her dolls and I styled their hair with braids or headbands and even a sparkly tiara, when Angel Girl said,

“Grandma, take your hair down.”

“Why?”

Those giant eyes scrutinized me with piercing discernment.

(This not-quite-four-year-old is actually quite judgy and has no problem letting me know if I’m wearing the right clothes or if my shoes are tied properly. Definitely some of my DNA, haha.)

“I don’t like it up in a scrunchie, I want to brush your hair.”

Uh oh, I thought to myself. I remember another little girl who used to love to brush my hair and it always turned out to be an exquisite disaster.

When hair is as curly as mine, it’s next to impossible to brush. The only time I can attempt it is when it’s freshly washed and I comb in product.

But will I say no? Not on your life.

“OK, I replied, “but PLEASE be as gentle as I am with your hair and T’s hair. You know it hurts to pull.”

Eye roll. “OK, Grandma. Sit down and turn around.”

Yes, ma’am! These are definitely two bossy boots angel kids.

For the next few minutes, while the angel stands behind me, all is silent as her brush unsuccessfully attempts to glide its way through my hair. She was intensely concentrating on arranging my hair into a semblance of “style.”

I feel her little hands twisting and pulling and puffing up certain areas. I’m afraid to look.

“What are you doing back there? Can I look?”

“Not yet. Grandma, hand me your scrunchie.”

“Here you go.”

Somehow the scrunchie is now imbedded in all of that twisting and spiraling and brushed out tangled up curly bird’s nest of her creative endeavors.

I know it’s going to be a long hard road to untangle the knots, but when she finally tells me she’s done and I can look, the pride (and love) in her eyes was totally worth every bit of it.

“Am I beautiful now?”

“Yes, you ARE beautiful now, Grandma.”

In her eyes, I am, and that’s all that matters.

Later, after the kids were tucked away in bed, I slathered conditioner on my hair, took my wide tooth comb and spent a good half hour or so untangling the knots, and fell asleep with a smile on my face.

These are the rare moments that weave a tapestry of joyful memories. However, I wouldn’t dare share a photo of my medusa-like hair catastrophe!

White Sage

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Thanks to all the rain we had this year, all of my sage plants are healthy and flowering, but this white sage is especially full of delicate lavender-colored sticky blooms.

In fact, the entire plant is more than six feet tall and equally as wide.

This is the variety of sage that’s made into smudging bundles tied with string. “Saging” is the term for burning the leaves of the white sage to cleanse, purify, and protect by dissipating negative energy and spirits. 

Smudging (or smoke cleansing) with white sage is sacred to many Indigenous nations of California and Mexico,

I also learned that scientists have observed that sage can clear up to ninety-four percent of airborne bacteria and disinfect the air.

My method is to gather the leaves that naturally fall to the ground and create a smudge stick from them. Sometimes I’ll add lavender, but I prefer the fragrance of white sage all by itself.

Have you ever smudged or is it just a SoCal thing?

I Am 🩷

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The practice of daily affirmations is a great way to reframe our mental patterns, shifting into positive thinking while learning to dynamically rewire our brain with neuroplasticity.


“I closed my eyes, took a calming breath and listened to my heart call I am… I am… I am…”

~Sylvia Plath The Bell Jar

(In 1982, Plath was posthumously awarded the Pulitzer Prize for her Collected Poems.)

Try these I am affirmations:

I am excited for this day.
I am so grateful to be alive.
I am lovable.
I am worthy.
I’m going to have a great day.
I am open to opportunities.
I am alive.
I am full of joy.
I am at peace.
I am positive.
I am safe.
I am a wonderful person.
I am happy and healthy.
I am.
🩷

Word of the Day: Cosmogyral

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Cosmogyral: whirling around the universe.

I like the thought of whirling around the universe, spiraling through the galaxies in a playful weightless freefall.

It seems to evoke the ultimate surrender and that appeals to me, to belong to the sacred geometry of planetary orbits.

I envision the whirling not so much like a crazy fast dervish, but more like a butterfly ballerina, pirouetting from one flower to another to extract equal amounts of nectar and joy from each stop along the way.

Graphic credit to https://vocal.media/fyi/sacred-geometry-of-planetary-orbits

Sweet Harmony | Push-Fold-Turn

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“Push…fold…turn…”

It’s a mantra of sorts. Do you know what I’m talking about?

Picture Angel Girl wearing my Hello Kitty apron on the other side of the kitchen table, mirroring my movements and my mantra, “push, fold, turn…“

I toss a handful of bench flour on the silicone mat so the dough won’t stick, and hand her a portion of the cinnamon roll dough to start kneading.

“Like this, watch me. With this part of your hand, push…fold…turn.”

“Like this, Grandma?”

“That’s perfect. Let’s say it together.”

We work and speak in harmony…”Push, fold, turn. Push, fold, turn.”

“You can tell it’s ready because it feels smooth. How does your dough feel?”

“Super smooth, Grandma!”

“Awesome! Now we’ll let our dough rise and finish creating our yummy cinnamon rolls.”

“I can’t wait!”

“Neither can I, but we have to follow all the steps to make your Great Grandma Charlotte’s recipe exactly like she taught me.”

After the dough doubled in sized, both the Angels helped to roll it out, sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon, and they allowed me to complete the process.

One more proofing (no one was patient) and the sweet bread was finally ready to bake.

Dad and Mom came home JUST as they came out of the oven and we all gorged ourselves on more cinnamon rolls than we probably should have.

In case you’re wondering, we don’t ice our cinnamon rolls. We like them just like this.

Dad complimented me, “These are really the best you ever made!”

Do you know what the secret ingredient was?

I do.

It was the sweet, loving assistance of two curly haired angel kids.

Push, fold, turn…

Moonstone Beach | Sea Glass Treasures

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Since it’s just about time to honor June’s Full Moon, it seems like the perfect opportunity to chat about Moonstone Beach, another sea glass location I need to visit. It’s in Cambria on California’s Central Coast.

It’s said that at Moonstone Beach beach you can find moonstone agates plus jade, jaspers, and other semi-precious stones.

Here’s a photo of some of my beach glass collection. Red is the third most rare type of sea glass, and I only have a couple pieces of that color.

Did you know? Orange is the most rare sea glass color. Turquoise is the second most rare color and the rarest type of blue sea glass. Red is the third most rare sea glass color and yellow is the fourth. I guess white and green and brown are more common to find because I have a lot of those colors, probably because most bottles were crafted in those colors.

None of the beaches around me have sea glass OR many seashells, although we have an abundant and endless supply of ROCKS.

A Spicy Crisis

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Do you remember the Tapatio shortage during the pandemic? Well, I do, because I LOVE that particular brand of Mexican hot sauce.

And now I’m horrified to report that there’s a shortage of my other fave, Sriracha.

Yup, the rooster can’t be found anywhere. When I went grocery shopping yesterday, it was on my list and the first store I went to had an empty shelf where the Sriracha was supposed to be.

Hmmm. I thought to myself. That’s strange. So I went to another store. Nothing. And another store and another until I figured out that this was something that needed further investigation.

Apparently, a drought in Mexico caused a shortage of the specific type of chili peppers Huy Fong uses to make Sriracha.

The even worse news is that there’s no way to estimate when supply will increase.

Uh oh.

Now what? I bought some “sriracha” replicas and NONE of them come close to equaling that specific and extremely addictive condiment.

Actually, for me, Sriracha is more of a food group than a condiment. Nothing else offers that singular feeling after the spicy heat hits when our brain kicks in to release endorphins, providing a natural high.

I’m so sad; I miss the rooster!

(If anyone has a spare bottle or two, lemme know.)

| sanctuary |

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“Remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you.”- Rumi

Vermillion Cliffs Secret Cathedral: Photo by Enchanted Seashells

What would you do if you won the lottery?💰

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As I dug a hole for a new plant in the garden last weekend, I had to laugh out loud at the thoughts swirling in my head.

Sometimes when I garden, my brain goes into an almost trance-like state lightly touching random elements in my subconscious like a butterfly drifting from flower to flower.

With no apparent rhyme or reason, my brain began to ponder the top ten things I would do if I won the lottery (which I never will because I don’t play).

Photo by Muffin Creatives on Pexels.com

At the top of my list is DIRT.

If I had unlimited funds, I’d buy so much good soil that I could replace all the clay and concrete-like death-to-all-plants earth in my gardens. Instead of buying a bag or two at a time, I’d get a dozen truckloads delivered of the finest growing medium that money could buy.

I wouldn’t mind at all loading it up in a wheelbarrow, in fact, it would be a JOY to don my work gloves and shovel that sweetly perfumed soil. I might roll in it too, like a dog–that’s how much I wish I had that loamy organic earth.

Of course, I’d go to South Coast Plaza and splurge on some Chanel, but the dirt would make me equally as happy.

In no particular order, here’s my lottery wish list….

💰Dirt
💰Chanel
💰Fix some things around here
💰A little cosmetic fix on me lol
💰Buy presents for everyone
💰Donate to a few awesome animal rescues
💰Travel to Peru and Paris
💰Visit all the beaches that have beach glass (and a lot of seashells)

*Sigh*

Forget all the other stuff, the truth is that I’d be overjoyed with a mountain of dirt on my driveway.

I’m back to the land of reality, dreading the hot and dry droughty conditions I’ll be faced with this summer as I mourn the death of many of my plantfriends, but for right now, I can enjoy their colorful beauty.

What would YOU do if you won the lottery?