I do. Have a secret.
Not gonna tell.
Not yet.
But you’ll be the first to know.
Well, not the first, but high up on my list.
Maybe not super high on the list, but you definitely won’t be the LAST to know.
You can guess, but I’ll never tell until I do.
P.S. A good secret, nothing bad, neg, dark, sad.
Happy Wednesday!
One of my favorite humans…a shining example of a role model we should all strive to emulate, please read, follow, and support!
My latest novel is out and I’m thrilled to share it with all my family and friends. All profits are going to help rescue dogs from kill shelters. Below is a brief synopsis and some of the first reviews on Amazon.
SYNOPSIS
In 1895, France was torn asunder by a scandal that rocked the nation and divided the country. An innocent Jewish military officer, Alfred Dreyfus, was unjustly sentenced to life imprisonment on a desolate island. The news that could exonerate him was leaked to the press, but was suppressed by the military. Anyone who sought to reopen the Dreyfus court-martial became victimized and persecuted and was considered an enemy of the state. Émile Zola, a popular journalist, determined to bring the truth to light, undertook the challenge to publicaly expose the facts surrounding the military cover-up. This is the story of Zola’s battle to help Alfred Dreyfus reclaim his…
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Our bedroom window looks out over the garden. Yep, it’s HUGE, a lot of work with neverending projects, but I love my sanctuary.
This is where I see bunnies and roadrunners and all sorts of wildlife.
One day last week, early in the morning, I was getting dressed to go to the gym and spied a hawk perched on a low branch in the eucalyptus tree. I think it’s the same hawk that’s been hanging around for years.
He was facing the pond, quietly and patiently waiting for breakfast to appear.
Therein lies the dilemma. What’s a girl to do?
If I finish getting dressed, I’ll miss this amazing shot; but if I run outside half naked, will anyone see me?
Because we have six-foot fences all the way around our property, I felt pretty certain that no one would catch a glimpse of the real me in my bra and bikini bottoms, so I grabbed my camera and ran outside.
I felt so NAUGHTY hee hee.
This is what I was rewarded with — and do you see how he gave me a shady side eye — so much human flesh this early in the morning clearly offended his sensibilities.
Isn’t he gorgeous? The hooked beak and talons are MAJESTIC.
My presence was distracting (he was looking right AT me) so I went back in the house to allow him to catch his breakfast without further interference.
Don’t worry, I didn’t snap a selfie in my state of undress; you didn’t actually THINK I WOULD, did you?
It’s a HAPPY SATURDAY!!!
So much is upsetting at WordPress…the change in the Reader and the format of the write/edit/publish page–whoever thought one could HATE to see “beepbeepboop” as much as I do — so in order to recapture my ZEN, here’s one of my favorite pictures of nasturtiums from the garden.
Because ORANGE.
It looks like a painting.
Enjoy this mostly #wordlesswednesday
enchantedseashells.com
I needed a few things at the crafts shop; glue sticks, jute, ModPodge, stuff like that.
Let’s clarify right from the beginning — I live in what could be described as a sorta snooty beach town — home prices in the $700,000 to million dollar plus — a fair amount of discretionary spending — lots of ladies who go to the gym, spa, lunch, shop.
The crafts store I went to is in a smaller strip mall. I parked my car between a Lexus and a Mercedes (see?), grabbed a reusable bag from the trunk, and headed into the store.
It was a busy Sunday; by the way a lot of the (mostly) ladies were attired, it’s obvious they had come directly from church — this is SoCal so nobody doesn’t wear flipflops unless they have to, and there were more flowery frocks than Lululemons.
As I’m walking toward the store, DIRECTLY to the left of the automatic double glass doors — in plain sight — was a man sprawled out on the sidewalk. You couldn’t tell if he was sleeping. Or if he was dead. He had no blanket, no pillow, nothing except a well-worn paper bag near his feet.
JUST LYING ON THE SIDEWALK.
I looked around and there were no less than three other women walking toward the crafts mecca along with me.
NO ONE even glanced in his direction, but it’s not like you could avoid seeing him.
He was RIGHT there.
They had to make a CONSCIOUS decision to ignore him.
I made eye contact with one woman who looked away, uncomfortably.
It was obvious that she did NOT want to engage in a conversation.
I went in the store, walked over the first employee I saw, and asked if he knew anything about the man that was either dead or alive outside his store.
He said, “Oh yeah, someone mentioned him.”
I said, “Well, has anyone checked to see if he’s OK, if he needs help, IF HE HAS A PULSE??”
He said, “Would you like me to call the manager”?
I said, “Yes, you do that.”
As I’m tapping my foot impatiently, waiting for the manager to appear and deal with ME, it was hard NOT to feel all the other women awkwardly look away from the SITUATION.
When the manager arrived, she said, “Are you the one who wants to know about that man?”
I said, “Yes, I’m the one. If you knew there was a human lying on the ground – he could be sick, he could be dead, he could be homeless — why did you not call someone to help him?”
(Watching out of the corner of my eye as other women avoided the aisle where we were standing.)
“Well, do you want me to call someone?”
I don’t f***ing believe this.
My blood pressure was rising — as was my voice.
“YES, PLEASE CALL SOMEONE TO SEE IF HE NEEDS HELP — OR I WILL, DO WE NOT LIVE IN A SUPPOSEDLY CIVILIZED COUNTRY? HOW CAN YOU ALL (as I point to the group of women who are listening) SIMPLY WALK BY AND NOT CARE?”
“YOU ARE ALL DISGUSTING.”
“He’s someone’s son or brother or father. What if he were YOUR son or brother or father?”
Yes, I said that.
If you want to know why I didn’t go up to him myself, its because I actually thought he was dead, and didn’t want to disturb a potential crime scene, and if he was sick, well, it’s not my job to offer medical assistance.
The manager called the police who arrived immediately, and it appeared that the man was indeed homeless, but was having some sort of medical condition and needed to be transported to a hospital — not life threatening, but he definitely didn’t need to suffer on the sidewalk.
As I stood in line waiting to purchase my glue sticks and other non-essentials, a woman thanked me for “doing something” and said she was planning to say something if I had not.
Well, people, I can’t be everywhere, so don’t wait for me.
SPEAK UP.
Whether it’s a sick and dirty homeless man or a mistreated animal or an abused child.
Be civilized. Be compassionate.
SAY SOMETHING.
DO SOMETHING.
Don’t just talk about it.
Don’t be a hypocrite.
DO SOMETHING, OK?
I spent the day harvesting cucumbers and trying to figure out a way to preserve them.
Freezing definitely doesn’t work for cucumbers, but everyone loves my homemade pickles, so that’s what I’ll do.
There’s a real sense of satisfaction in seeing the jars lined up on the shelf — a connection to the simpler times of harvest and preservation — no stores needed, just garden bounty and the proper ingredients.
I pickled the cucumbers, dug up some carrots, and thought I’d get super creative and TRY pickling kale because there’s just so much of it.
Use the same brine for the carrots and kale; the only change is the addition of a lot more garlic to the kale.
Easy Peasy Refrigerator Pickles
5 medium cucumbers
1 tablespoon pickling salt, sea salt, or kosher salt (but not iodized table salt)
1 cup cider vinegar or white vinegar
1 cup water
1 head dill or small bunch dill leaves
2 cloves garlic (optional)
3 black peppercorns (optional)
or one tablespoon pickling spices
Prepare the jar(s) by running through the dishwasher or washing it in very hot soapy water and letting it air dry. Any glass jar with a lid will do; the wider the opening, the easier.
For the crunchiest pickles, select firm, dark-green pickling cucumbers that have not started to ripen to white or yellow. Cut them into spears, slices, or chunks (left whole, they will take a long time to pickle in the fridge).
I read somewhere (can’t remember where) that the ends need to be cut off or it’ll create a mushy pickle.
Place the dill in the bottom of your jar, peel and crush the garlic cloves (if using), and drop that in along with the peppercorns (if using), then put in the cut cucumber.
Mix the salt, vinegar, and water in a separate container, stirring until the salt is dissolved, then pour it over the cucumbers, filling the jar right to the top.
If you’re in a hurry to enjoy your delicious pickles, heat the vinegar, water, and salt to a boil before pouring it over the cucumbers. Pop on the lid and put the jar in the fridge.
For kale, make sure it’s super clean with no dirt or sand lurking anywhere, ‘cos no one wants to eat gritty greens!
Shred as you would cabbage for slaw.
I actually mixed collard greens with the kale.
Place a few garlic cloves in the bottom of the jar(s) along with the pickling spices and dill.
Pack tightly into the jar(s) and pour vinegar mixture all the way to the top.
Pickled Kale
I’ll let you know how the kale tastes after a few days of relaxing in the brine spa.
Do you pickle or can? How do you preserve your garden’s harvest?
This might come as a shock to you.
I don’t spend ALL of my time shopping. Seriously, is that what you thought?
It’s true that I devote a great deal of my waking hours in a search for treasures old and new, but once in a while, I aspire to a higher calling.
On Sunday and Monday, I hung out with an amazing and dedicated group who were protesting Ramos Brothers Circus in San Marcos, California.
Shame on San Marcos for supporting the mistreatment of animals.
What’s my story? I’ve never been to a circus because my mom felt strongly that animals should not do tricks and that there is something so very wrong in forcing animals to become entertainment for human profit.
If you were wondering where all my animal activist genes came from, I’d have to thank my mom. (Also thanks to her for the fashionista gene.)
I stopped eating meat in 1970 when I was a senior in high school. My boyfriend at the time wanted to try to eat healthier so I went along with his experiment. We eventually broke up but I never did eat meat again.
Thank you to everyone who drove by, honked, and gave a thumbs up in support of our efforts.
I have a request to make of you…the next time you see a group of people protesting animal abuse, STOP. Get out of your car. JOIN US. Take an hour out of your busy day just like we did to MAKE A DIFFERENCE. Bring your children. Show them that you don’t just talk about caring for animals…you are agents of change. 
Then, hopefully, we CAN make the world a better place.
No matter what you think about PETA, they’re right about this:
“Animals aren’t actors, spectacles to imprison and gawk at, or circus clowns. Yet thousands of these animals are forced to perform silly, confusing tricks under the threat of physical punishment; are carted across the country in cramped and stuffy boxcars or semi-truck trailers; are kept chained or caged in barren, boring, and filthy enclosures; and are separated from their families and friends—all for the sake of human “entertainment.” Many of these animals even pay with their lives.”
Animals have RIGHTS.
Did you grow up eating meat, wearing leather, going to circuses, zoos, and the bathtub that is SeaWorld?
Do you wear wool and silk?
Are you now considering the impact of your actions on the animals?
If you haven’t, maybe you SHOULD.
Animals are NOT a requirement for a circus-type entertainment to be prosperous.
The overwhelming success of Cirque du Soleil is proof that you don’t need to have animals of any kind to have a circus.
Ingrid Newkirk, president of PETA, said people have turned against animal acts as they learn more about the animals and how they are treated. “These are complex, intelligent animals, and this is a lousy, lousy, dirty, cruel business, and people see that,” she said. “This was purely a business decision.”
Isn’t it wrong that these animals don’t get to see this glorious sky, bask in the breeze, and feel rain on their fur? Their lives are dismal, traveling from one city to another in dark, smelly, cramped trailers.
I’m not going to share the sad, tragic, horrific, heartbreaking pictures and videos of abused animals. If you need proof, you are more than welcome to Google and compile your own documentation.
I KNOW all I need to know.
A couple years ago, I spoke (along with PETA) against elephant rides at the San Diego County Fair and almost got into an altercation with one of the few supporters of this barbaric form of entertainment. I don’t understand how seemingly intelligent and civilized humans could allow this kind of abuse in 2015 when we’ve seen the videos, when we know what hell an animal endures to become “entertainment”.
Aren’t we better than this?
Haven’t we evolved at all in the last one hundred years?
Do you really need all that bacon-wrapped crap when you know what hellish existence pigs endure in factory farms?
Really?
Compassion
Let’s teach our children, the next generation, that not only do animals have feelings, animals have the right not to be exploited, mistreated, abused, and enslaved.
For more information, visit circusprotest.com
I hope to see you in San Diego at the next protest!
As we walked our way over to the sidewalk with our signs, look what we had to step over.
Gross, huh?
However, in some way, it’s a perfect albeit disgusting metaphor for the way too many people think about animals; that their lives have as much value as a discarded condom. Or something like that.
How about a little inspiration from Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young?
Teach Your Children
Pretty clouds but no rain.
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all
Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere,
I’ve looked at clouds that way.
Subtropical moisture in the air.
Maybe…
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life
I really don’t know life at all
Just an illusion…
Thanks to Joni Mitchell, lyrics from Both Sides, Now
The motherly milkweed provides sustenance to the Monarch butterfly and is crucial to sustain the species.
Everyone who loves butterflies should plant milkweed and since NObody doesn’t love butterflies, there should be enough milkweed planted to sustain the entire cosmos.
To clarify, I’m not referring to the plural of one my fave cocktails, but the cosmos of our universe.
According to Monarch Joint Venture…
Monarchs cannot survive without milkweed; their caterpillars only eat milkweed plants (Asclepias spp.), and monarch butterflies need milkweed to lay their eggs. With shifting land management practices, we have lost much milkweed from the landscape.
Please plant milkweed to support monarch populations, and their incredible migration!
Planting milkweed is a great way to help other pollinators too, as they provide valuable nectar resources to a diverse suite of bees and butterflies.
For a brief how-to flyer on planting and gardening, download MJV’s Gardening for Monarchs or the Wild Ones “Wild for Monarchs” brochure.
As soon as I put the plant in the ground, it became inundated with all the Monarchs in my little part of the world.
I planted it FAR away from the vegetable garden so the hungry little caterpillars wouldn’t decide to vary their diet and eat all my veggies.
Reminder! Don’t use pesticides or herbicides. 
Click here for free butterfly garden and milkweed seeds:
https://www.livemonarch.com/free-milkweed-seeds.htm
More information at Bring Back the Monarchs
http://monarchwatch.org/bring-back-the-monarchs/milkweed/
Californians can help save the monarch butterfly by restoring habitats where they can thrive. Take action now: Tell lawmakers to vote “YES” on AB 559 to restore monarch butterfly habitats. http://ecovote.org/SaveTheMonarch >>
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 