I could have written these words. As I look around Casa de Enchanted Seashells, I see feathers and rocks and driftwood and seashells, so many seashells.
They are my true and stalwart friends.
In every room, I can touch and feel and recreate the time and place they were collected and lovingly gathered: local beaches, Anza-Borrego, Zion, Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Painted Desert, Grand Tetons, Pinnacles, Pacific Northwest–a weaving of memories.
And yes, they bring a smile to my face.
I received an email yesterday about the International Space Station:
Starting at 8:48 PM, if clouds and smoke permit, you’ll see the International Space Station over San Diego moving from SW to NE until 8:54 P.M.
I set my alarm for 8:45 to give me (hopefully) enough time to try and figure out where southwest and northeast IS, as I’m directionally challenged.
It was clear at 8:45 with a few planes and some stars just starting to sparkle in the not-quite-completely-dark sky.
I looked up, scanning all around because I still couldn’t figure out where SW was, even though I know the ocean is WEST.
Ahh, there it was, right on time, the brightest white light, swiftly moving across the sky, high above the other aircraft. I followed the trajectory of the International Space Station until it was too far away to see.
And that’s the kind of thing that make me very happy.
I learned a bit about the ISS from Wiki:
The International Space Station (ISS) is a modular space station (habitable artificial satellite) in low Earth orbit. It is a multinational collaborative project involving five participating space agencies: USA, Russia, Japan, Europe, and Canada. The ownership and use of the space station is established by intergovernmental treaties and agreements. The station serves as a microgravity and space environment research laboratory in which scientific research is conducted. (Photo courtesy of Wiki)
I don’t have any tattoos and I don’t believe I’ll ever get one, but if I did, I might choose this Sanskrit symbol.
Instead of a tattoo, maybe I’ll frame it and hang on a wall somewhere where I can be reminded to breathe, especially since I’m aware that I hold my breath a lot, almost as if I’m anticipating something dreadful to occur.
Breathe.
Sometimes that’s enough.
Two children thump down the stairs like a herd of bison.
Very loud whispering…”OK, Charlotte, here’s what we do.”
“Every morning, we go into Grandma’s room and we say ‘Get up, Grandma, make breakfast.'”
“Like this…”
“WAKE UP GRANDMA! MAKE BREAKFAST!”
“Now you do it.”
“It’s OK, she likes it.”
“And then we jump on the bed; come on.”
“Char, you want me to turn the light on?”
He runs over to me, whispers in my ear, “Pretend to be asleep, Grandma.”
“Now you do it, Char!”
A very tiny voice says, “Grandma?”
I respond, “GOOD MORNING, you guys!”
And so my day begins.
Honestly, is there any better way to wake up than to be the first person two angels want to see every morning?
I think not.
GRATITUDE.
My life’s odyssey doesn’t seem to be a straight line to bliss, that’s for sure.
The oven situation was NOT the easy fix I’d hoped for. It’s going to take a whole new electronic panel which’ll take several days to get here.
On the glass half full side, the technician helped me purchase the part online, saving about $100, so I appreciated his honesty. He didn’t charge for today’s visit and diagnosis, and the cost for his labor is reasonable.
As I bemoaned the horrible timing, he suggested I purchase a toaster oven. I had meant to do that a long time ago and forgot, so this was a great solution to my dilemma. I ran out and got one that day AND it was on sale, a fact that makes this Grandma very happy.
If every cloud really has a silver lining, mine is now pure gold with diamond sparkles. Charlotte’s new behavior is to run at me from across the room, jump in my arms, wrap herself around me and say, “Charlotte hug and kiss Grandma!” Over and over again. That two-year-old with the titian hair and her curly big brother expressing their affectionate and exuberant joie de vivre wipe away any and all angst about the oven.
Just now from Theo at 5:26 a.m., “Wake up, Princess Rosebud!”
Right behind him from Char at 5:27 a.m.,”Grandma, where’s apple pie?”
It might be a day late, but they WILL have their apple pie!
Have a happy and safe 4th, everyone!
More craziness from my little Universe, but I’ve learned to adapt.
The repairman will be here in a few minutes. While I’m HOPEFUL he will be able to find a solution and fix the oven immediately, there are no guarantees.
Since I still have working burners (the oven is a separate built-in wall version), I searched around for recipes that could work on a cooktop.
I discovered Skillet Granola, tried it, and LOVE the way it turned out. I used my own recipe with oil and maple syrup and a lot of cinnamon. The extras like raisins and hemp seeds and coconut can be added later, but the actual oats are crispy and delicious. AND I didn’t overheat the entire house, which is something to remember when it really gets summery here. Now my original Angel Boy will have his granola, so I’m a happy mom.
My research also revealed many recipes that can be adapted for a cooktop: brownies, manicotti, even pizza. In the unfortunate event that this repair needs a part that has to be ordered, I am much less stressed now than I was yesterday because I’ll continue to fulfill my very important Grandma job of feeding all the creatures.
Thank goodness the anticipated breakfast burritos and buckwheat pancakes are not in any danger.
*Still no resolution with my WordPress issue, but I’ve accepted that the problem might be bigger than an UN-Happiness or Sadness Engineer can help me with. It’s the Universe sending me a message over and over again. OK OK! I hear you loud and clear. I will set it aside for now as it’s obviously NOT the right time.
**An update on the missing pan…still nowhere to be found. This is a real mystery and I have no clue.
More shenanigans from the universe.
I planned to make a gigantic batch of oatmeal raisin cookies so the little people would never feel the disappointment of an empty cookie jar.
I’m on schedule with freshly made mango black cherry ice cream (a flavor request) chilling in the freezer.
Everything was going according to plan until I turned on the oven to preheat and nothing happened.
No heat, no nothing. The panel showed that it was on and preheating, but there was no heat.
UH OH. Those cookies aren’t going to bake themselves.
I was stuck with a batch of cookies all ready to go on two baking sheets with the rest of the mixture in the refrigerator waiting their turn, along with a batch of granola for my son.
I WAS IN PANIC MODE.
NOTNOWNOTNOWNOTNOWNOTNOW
No oven means no baking, no pizza, no lasagna–and that totally stresses me out because this grandma loves nothing more than to watch my kids and grandkids eat the food I lovingly prepare.
It’s a win-win for all of us!
I ran next door to my very very nice neighbors who fired up their oven so I could bake the cookies, (for the price of a few for them to eat, which is a fair exchange, an easy quid pro quo).
The cookies baked just fine, but the granola burned to a crisp. OMG, that’s never happened before.
The oven repairman is coming tomorrow and hopefully it’s not a major issue, but I have no idea what’s wrong.
Dear Universe,
Why? Why now?
I’ve tried to post this for the last three days but it won’t edit properly and the final draft looks like source code.
Oh well, I’ll try again.
I’ve had the worst day when it seems as if everything is going wrong. Have you had days like that?
I’m having other odd issues with WordPress. The solution should be simple but for reasons I can’t explain, there is no one at WordPress that can help me. They respond to questions I haven’t asked about issues I don’t have and offer solutions to those, while not helping me with what I know would be a simple fix with their support.
I decided to take a break from contacting WP’s NON-support UN-Happiness Engineers to relieve my frustration by doing a little grocery shopping. Everything went smoothly at the store but when I was back in the car, I took a sip of my water and accidentally dropped the cap under the seat. Somehow or another, that caused me to choke on the water that I was trying to swallow, and I ended up with a gigantic coughing jag as if I was drowning in the ocean.
I finally stopped coughing, took another very careful sip of water, and laughed at the absurdity of this scenario. I figured the universe was advising me to GO HOME AND STAY THERE.
Safe and sound, there’s no place like home.
**This is so strange. I only published this post today, June 26, but it shows that it was published on the 24th, so I am RE-writing and posting again. Very odd WordPress, very odd.
We had a bit of rain, just a few drops, definitely not the kind of rain we need here in the Southwest, but I think my veggie garden was grateful for it.
When I went outside to check on the status of baby lettuce seedlings, I noticed a Monarch butterfly entangled in the netting surrounding the garden. I’ve been forced to use the barrier to keep out squirrels and rats and bunnies. There are plenty of other things in the garden those guys can eat, so I don’t feel too bad about restricting them from my yummy greens.
Carefully, I removed the netting from those delicate wings.
After flying off, s/he returned with a mate and they circled my head a few times as if to thank me. “You’re welcome, guys! I was glad to help.”
Later that afternoon, right before dusk, I went for a walk. There were still beautiful clouds in the sky and I was thinking happy thoughts about the butterflies.
Suddenly, before I could even react, several things happened at once. A white van was driving down the street faster than the twenty-five mile an hour speed limit. A dove flew low across the street, left to right. (Yup, you can see where this is going.) The driver MUST have seen the bird, I’m sure of it.
Without slowing down or trying to avoid the imminent impact, the van ran into the bird, and to make it even more horrific, the back tires finished the slaughter. There were no other cars on the road; simply slowing down would have avoided it completely.
It doesn’t matter to me that there was nothing I could have done to prevent this tragedy. I ran out into the street to see if I needed to take the bird to a vet, but it was too late. Too late. I crouched down on my knees over the little dove almost in shock at the massive destruction the van did to his body. I took a photo because I wanted to remember the poor dear and honor his/her life, but it’s too gruesome to post and I feel it would be disrespectful to the innocent creature.
The bird was probably on his way home, and there might have been nesting babies that won’t be fed and won’t survive all because of the actions of one unaware or uncaring human. What if it was one of the doves I just wrote about that often visit me in the garden? How incredibly sad.
Well, that stripped me of the joy of saving a butterfly, that’s for sure. I’m a fixer and a helper. It’s a tough lesson for me to comprehend that sometimes things can be so terribly damaged that they can’t be mended or put back together, like this poor little bird who was beyond repair.
This made me think of Prince. When doves cry, so do I.
One photo from my camera, one from my phone.
No strawberry pink for me, but a bit of reflected color on this one; lots of positive moon energy.
This was from my front door. I might print and frame it because it looks like a painting to me.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 