Two clouds (one that looks to me like a bunny) tethered to each other; my view from the front door. No rain today but it’s freezing in the shade and only slightly warmer in the weak winter sun.
☁️☁️☁️
It was the kind of March day when the sun shines hot,
and the wind blows cold,
when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade.
–Charles Dickens from Great Expectations
Wishing a very happy Woman’s Day to all strong, intelligent, talented, and simply wonderful women of this world!
International Women’s Day is a global day to celebrate the social, economic, cultural, and political achievements of women. The day also marks a call to action for accelerating women’s equality.
IWD began in New York City on March 8, 1857 when female textile workers marched in protest of unfair working conditions and unequal rights for women.
It was one of the first organized strikes by working women, during which they called for a shorter work day and decent wages.
Wearing purple on International Women’s Day dates back to 1900s. In 1908, the combination of purple, green, and white were selected to symbolize women’s equality from the Women’s Social and Political Union in the UK.
Purple amethyst is the perfect stone for today!
I share my world with coyotes, bobcats, raccoons, skunks, possums, lots of bunnies, even more rats, and an assortment of birds including scrub jays, mockingbirds, hummingbirds, hawks, egrets, and herons.
And owls.
Late at night I’m lucky to hear the hoots of a mating pair of Great Horned Owls in the tallest eucalyptus trees. It’s a soothing sound as I fall asleep, the hooting of owls in the distance.
Last night was different. I was awakened at 2:30 a.m. with the sound of that distinctive hoo-hoo-hoo only MUCH closer. Even through a closed window, it was LOUD, and so was the answering call.
This back and forth conversation didn’t stop for an hour and it was impossible to get back to sleep.
I learned that owls lay eggs in March, so maybe that’s what the chat was all about. My around the corner neighbor has an owl box, so that’s a logical thought.
Hopefully, they took turns hunting all the rats and mice around here, too.
Symbolically, hearing owls at night provides protective energy. The spiritual meaning of hearing an owl could be that it’s important to establish energetic boundaries.
Owls use their excellent hearing, keen eyesight, and silent wings to hunt and keep safe. So when our vision fails us in life, the owl’s call at night symbolizes protection and guidance. Hearing an owl at night can represent gaining a new direction in life.
Owls use their calls to claim their territory, to signal that there’s a predator nearby or to communicate with their partner.
The meaning of hearing two owls is related to spiritual enlightenment. An owl is the ultimate symbol of wisdom and maturity.
Two owls hooting is a sign that you’re in the middle of strong spiritual energies and you need to let them lead you into the changes your soul is going through.
It’s a reminder to open your heart and embrace the changes.
Higher forces have recognized it, so they’re sending you owls, as a dose of additional energy to move forward.
Owls are always carriers of important messages. If you’re wondering what it means to hear two owls late at night, the answer lies in the way you observe things around yourself.
Owls want you to change your perspective about recent events and try to discover why they really happened. There’s a hidden message behind it and you need to discover it.
If you hear an owl hooting near your house and wonder: “What does it mean when an owl hoots outside your house?”, the answer will cheer you up: an owl outside your house is considered to be a signal of good luck.
Owls are observed as highly spiritual animals and their hooting can only bring positive vibes to you.
Although different cultures have different interpretations of owl symbolism, almost every culture treats owls as a symbol of good luck and prosperity. joyceelliot.com
I’m tired today, but always find joy and gratitude in my wild friends.
It’s almost time for the March full moon and the night sky is clear and bright.
A few days ago, we had a special weather alert telling us it actually might SNOW on the beach!
The temp dropped significantly. It had been raining off and on all day and I was SO hopeful, as excited as a first grader; sadly it didn’t snow here.
There were a few flakes several miles up the coast, and measurable snow just a bit inland, but nothing at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
While I waited in anticipation for SNOW, I looked off in the distance and snapped this photo from my deck.
The perspective is a bit skewed as the apartments aren’t that close. They’re more than a few blocks away and the mountains are further than they appear here, too, actually about fifty miles east. I think it’s because I used a different camera lens and setting.
If you ignore the ugly and invasive apartments defiling my view, I think that’s Palomar Mountain covered in snow. It could also be the Lagunas; regardless, they both received several feet of snow while we had more than four inches of rain.
March certainly came in like a lion!
A while back, the two of us sat on the floor contemplating a puzzle of wild animals.
“Don’t help me!” “I can do it by myself!”
“OK, I won’t, but I’m right here if you need me. All you have to do is ask.”
She cocks her head, slyly looks at me, and declares, “I’m smarter than you, Grandma.”
I laughed, “Oh, you are? How so?”
“I can do this puzzle without your help.”
“I know you’re very very smart, so I believe that you can, but I will always be here if you need any help at all.”
A couple minutes go by as we work together to turn over all the puzzle pieces.
“I’m smarter than everybody.”
“Really?” I ask. “Everybody?”
“Oh yes.”
“Are you smarter than Daddy?” “Cos you know MY little boy is pretty smart, right?”
She thinks for a nanosecond.
“Yup, I’m smarter than Daddy.”
“How about Mommy? Are you smarter than Mommy?”
Another second goes by with a nod, “Yes, I am.”
“And what about Theo? Are you smarter than he is, too?”
First a sigh, than a shake of her head as she wistfully says, “No, I’m not smarter than Theo. He can do anything.”
My goodness. I was speechless. I could feel the deep love she has for her big brother.
“Theo IS smart and so are you, my Angel Girl.”
Laughing, she says, “We’re both smarter than YOU, little Grandma!”
I can’t really argue with THAT three-year-old, that’s for sure.
As much as I love seashells, I love sea glass, too. Did you know it takes an ocean about thirty years to break down glass into these jewels?
The beaches in my area aren’t great for sea glass OR seashells, but we do have a lot of rocks, so I can always satisfy my obsession by picking up one special stone or a dozen sun-warmed rocky gems.
I’ve always wanted to visit Fort Bragg in Northern California but you’re not supposed to remove any glass from that beach, which would be so hard NOT to do.
Here are some other beaches that I’d love to visit and collect a treasure trove of sea glass:
🐚 Hanapepe Bay Glass Beach in Kauai.
🐚 Port Townsend Glass Beach, a two-hour ferry ride from Seattle.
🐚 Summerland Beach outside Santa Barbara.
🐚 Steklyashka Beach in Vladivostok, Russia is supposed to feature an amazing display of colorful glass, but I doubt I’ll ever get there. I found the photo on Pinterest, but I think that’s where it was taken.
Have you visited any of the seaglass beaches? Let me know in the comments!
Happy National Pancake Day!
It’s not just Fat Tuesday; it’s the day to celebrate pancakes, too!
When the original Angel Boy was young, my pancakes were a source of extreme disappointment. They looked inviting on the outside, but the interior was often mushy and undercooked.
Finally, my son had such a fear of my pancakes that he refused to eat them. It was quite traumatic for him, and I can understand that. Poor guy.
Things have changed with the Angels.
I worked hard to perfect my pancake game and I can now proudly claim to make the BEST Buckwheat Pancakes in my little part of the world.
There’s something incredibly delicious about the addition of buckwheat flour that elevates these pancakes.
They are in such high demand that I often need to whip up two batches. I can’t flip them fast enough to toss them on the plates of those feral little creatures.
Past traumas have been healed; my grown up angel boy can put away a giant stack without being frightened that he’s going to bite into uncooked pancake batter.
I had to get a big griddle to handle the demand and it’s like a Grandma Diner.
“More pancakes, please!”
Two versions of my famous pancakes; it’s easy to make *vegan.
Best Buckwheat Pancakes
Whisk together in bowl:
1 egg
1 cup milk/plant based etc.
2 TBS veg oil
1 TBS brown sugar or agave
1 tsp vanilla
Add:
1/2 cup white or whole wheat flour
1/2 cup buckwheat flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
Mix just until moistened, batter should be lumpy. Don’t overmix. Let batter sit for a few minutes. Cook on hot oiled griddle until brown on both sides (and cooked all the way through haha.)
Options: add cinnamon, chopped apples, sliced bananas, berries.
*To make it vegan, use only plant based milk, delete the egg, and add two teaspoons white or apple cider vinegar as the final ingredient.
Of course I had to research the origin of that term "bees knees". The phrase was originally an 18th century fanciful phrase which referred to something that didn't exist. It was used as the kind of spoof item apprentices would be sent to the stores to fetch - like tartan paint or a left-handed hammer. That meaning is no longer used. In the Roaring Twenties in America, bright young things invented nonsense language to refer to things that were 'the tops' - like 'the cat's pajamas', 'the snake's hips' and so on. They utilized the existing 'bee's knees' phrase to add to that list. The expression has since spread and is now used worldwide to mean 'excellent/the very best'.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
My visit with an orthopedic specialist was unsatisfactory on many levels.
First of all, the referral happened to send me to the same office that I had been to in the past for other random fractures and torn ligaments, which I thought was a great coincidence.
However, there was a major difference.
Before, I had PPO health insurance, (Preferred Provider Organization), which offers more doctor flexibility and has a higher monthly premium.
Now I have an HMO (Health Maintenance Organization), a network of health care professionals and hospitals who agree to provide medical care at minimal costs.
See the difference?
With PPO insurance, the attitude of staff and doctors is markedly more welcoming when scheduling an appointment than when you call to see a doctor who has first been referred by one’s primary doctor in an HMO. In fact, you can only see a specialist IF it’s been approved and authorized by the primary physician (who’s usually an internist) with a letter of referral from the insurance company.
I had always been treated respectfully — not this time, however!
Initially, when I called to make the appointment and they looked up my previous visits, the communication was pleasant and professional UNTIL I told them I had different insurance, no longer a premium PPO, but an HMO.
She said “Oh”. Her voice changed; her attitude changed. I didn’t think too much of it, didn’t take it personally, maybe it was a busy day or the scheduler had other things on her mind.
When I arrived for my consultation, to be fair, the front desk employees were friendly and professional which bolstered my view that the slight rudeness was a one-off…
However…
I finally saw the doctor about thirty minutes after my appointment time. From the moment he entered the room, I sensed that he was annoyed. He never made eye contact with me. He sat on his stupid little round stool and said “What’s the problem?” and when I I started to explain how it all occurred, he interrupted me to say, “But why are you here TODAY?”
As I started to explain, I could tell he wasn’t listening. He had that faraway look in his eyes that some people get when you know they’re not paying attention. My appointment was in the morning so it wasn’t like he had endured a full day of complaining patients.
He abruptly said, “Sit on the table and let me do an exam”.
It was rushed and cursory. He turned my knee in a few different directions, one of which caused a REALLY sharp pain, and then he pulled my shoes off without warning.
Let’s back up.
I’ve mostly always had great relationships with medical professionals. I like to consider that I’m an informed team member in my own health issues. It’s my body and all that. Because I know a bit about medicine, I feel that I offer valuable insights and points of view that MOST doctors seem to appreciate. I can talk the talk, as it were.
But while I was on the exam table, HE PULLED MY SHOES OFF.
He didn’t ask if I was OK with it, he didn’t ask ME to unlace and take off my workout shoes, he roughly pulled them off my feet — still laced up — and tossed them on the floor.
To me, that was absolutely disrespectful. No one should touch any part of one’s body without permission. Dignity, respect, and civility is not too much to ask of anyone, right?
I was definitely receiving the budget office visit, that’s for sure.
I asked a bunch of questions like I always do and he was SO ANNOYED with me, he didn’t even try to hide it. I could sense the eye roll…
Can I repeat that he never once made eye contact?
While my shoes were still off and on the floor, he opened the door and walked out of the room, turning around to say, “I’ll explain your MRI and x-rays.”
I said, “Am I supposed to follow you?”
No answer.
“Do I have time to put my shoes on?”
No answer.
So…I took my sweet time jumping off the table, bending down to pick up my shoes, unlacing my shoes and then put them on, re-lacing each shoe with a beautifully arranged bow, mindfully, lol.
I wasn’t feeling very comfortable with him as a doctor I’d ever allow to treat my knee.
His assessment of the data was pretty much as the MRI report stated, only more bleak because part of my knee is bone on bone, that’s why it hurts to do squats or lunges.
Here’s what he said, “When it gets bad enough, you’ll want knee surgery.”
“In the meantime, don’t do squats or lunges.” The unspoken words were apparently, “don’t be STUPID” and do squats or lunges.” He didn’t have to say that because his pass-agg attitude was clear.
He also offered to give me a cortisone injection. When I said that I have a bad reaction to steroids, he used “air quotes” to repeat what I said as if he didn’t believe me (really a jerky misogynist move) and instead offered a plasma injection spun out of my own blood which MY insurance doesn’t pay for and is $700 per injection.
“So what do you want to do?” he asked.
I responded that I’d discuss his opinion with my primary physician before I could intelligently decide any course of action, but it’s not bloody likely that I’ll have surgery that includes a recovery time frame of up to twelve weeks OFF my feet. Not bloody likely.
As he was halfway up off his stupid little round stool with his hand already on the door, I said, “But what about physical therapy or some kind of brace to protect and stabilize my knee?”
“What about the torn meniscus or inflamed bursa? That’s actually why I’m here. That’s what hurts. Is there something to do about that?”
“No, nothing will help.”
Then he said, “If you won’t do those things I suggested, there’s nothing I can do for you.”
And he was gone.
I had most likely run over my allotted budget appointment time.
I’m not being melodramatic or overly sensitive.
This is why people bemoan America’s healthcare system, one of many reasons why it’s all messed up.
It was a new experience for me to endure disrespectful and abbreviated treatment like I’m “less than”, a second class citizen solely based on the hierarchy of my health insurance.
Will I tell my own doctor how this one made me feel? You bet I will, and I’m going to request a second opinion, too.
I believe this doc was scalpel happy for sure, but there’s no way I’d trust him to slice open any part of my little body, no matter how many pictures he had on his wall of satisfied customers.
What’s the prognosis for my poor knee? I’m not sure, but at least I know what’s going on in there.
Will I stop doing squats and lunges? NOPE.
Update: I went for a walk along our beach seawall and saw a physical therapist had set up a tent and table for free consultations on a little grassy area. What great timing! I stopped to chat with him and I’m so glad I did! He offered better information about the mechanics of a knee and how to obtain relief (including a brace recommendation) than I did from that orthopedic specialist who wanted to slice and dice. PLUS he was respectful and gentle as he moved my leg around.
Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
–W.B. Yeats
Curated from and art credit to Elaine Bayley Illustrations
Beyond the field. That’s where I’ll meet you.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.
― Rumi
(Photo credit to me: Laguna Mountains)
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 