Thursday, May 14, 2020
The Obituary
was of a person
known
yet now
unknown to me
who seemed to
live
a solo life
until
that magic meeting
with a childhood friend
all memory
of decades
between
erased
enveloped
in a sea
of tears
and waves
of sudden
separation
flotsam forgotten
Saturday, March 7, 2020
Distracted Hiking
I trudge up the trail, inhale crisp spring air, admire deep green fields below. I feel the crunch of gravel under my feet, hear the squawk of a blue jay. How amazing to be alive!
I’m also amazed at how many fellow hikers wear headphones or earbuds and spend their hike in conversation with someone invisible to me, someone not here!
On my descent, a teenage boy passes, eyes down, glued in admiration . . . to his iPhone!
Near the base, I meet up with Jeff. He hikes here nearly every day, usually by himself. Everyone knows him; he calls each by name. I’m pleased he remembers mine.
He reminds me to accept the choices made by others – everything from the redesign of Hayward Field (for the next generation) to my recent choice to continue hiking alone. You’re an athlete, he says. You need to set your own pace.
Yes! Keep my focus on my experience: this morning, this day, this life!
Thanks, Jeff.
I’m also amazed at how many fellow hikers wear headphones or earbuds and spend their hike in conversation with someone invisible to me, someone not here!
On my descent, a teenage boy passes, eyes down, glued in admiration . . . to his iPhone!
Near the base, I meet up with Jeff. He hikes here nearly every day, usually by himself. Everyone knows him; he calls each by name. I’m pleased he remembers mine.
He reminds me to accept the choices made by others – everything from the redesign of Hayward Field (for the next generation) to my recent choice to continue hiking alone. You’re an athlete, he says. You need to set your own pace.
Yes! Keep my focus on my experience: this morning, this day, this life!
Thanks, Jeff.
Wednesday, February 19, 2020
House of Mirrors
Mirror, mirror on the wall . . .
My condo was built in 1978. I bought it in 2016 and have made numerous updates since. But the mirror in the master bath was original until now.
I found a round mirror in the right size and asked a friend to help remove the old one. We both laughed at the wall beneath – still the original mustard yellow! I couldn’t wait to cover it with the soft gray of the rest of the room.
Sometime during this project, I started counting mirrors.
Let’s see. I have a full length mirror, two medium-sized decorative mirrors and a couple smaller ones in the master bedroom. One is hung to reflect the painting of Simone, my precious last cat.
The guest room sports one full length mirror and a round wall mirror with weird wire framing.
The master bath has an oval mirror in addition to the one over the sink; the half-bath, a rectangular mirror with double beveled edges.
An antique round mirror with elaborate gold frame provides my out-the-door check point. It used to hang over my parent’s fireplace.
My computer space has two decorative mirrors, though I rarely look into them.
A large mirror pretends to be a window in my living room.
There are two mirrors in my kitchen – part of my attempt at feng shui.
And finally, even my laundry room has its very own mirror!
Have you been counting? I had to do three passes through the house to come up with the correct number (17) and even then, missed the tiny mirror in that ‘sun/moon’ from Mexico!
Why so many mirrors? I mean, I have south-facing windows across the living room. But much of the rest of the house gets no direct light. Mirrors give depth. When we took the mirror out of my bathroom, it felt as though the wall had moved in two feet, the room made eerily smaller.
And light. Mirrors give light – or the illusion of it. While I’m not constantly aware of all those mirrors, I believe they lighten my mood and expand my vision.
Mirror, mirror. Maybe I have enough. Or maybe just one more . . .
My condo was built in 1978. I bought it in 2016 and have made numerous updates since. But the mirror in the master bath was original until now.
I found a round mirror in the right size and asked a friend to help remove the old one. We both laughed at the wall beneath – still the original mustard yellow! I couldn’t wait to cover it with the soft gray of the rest of the room.
Sometime during this project, I started counting mirrors.
Let’s see. I have a full length mirror, two medium-sized decorative mirrors and a couple smaller ones in the master bedroom. One is hung to reflect the painting of Simone, my precious last cat.
The guest room sports one full length mirror and a round wall mirror with weird wire framing.
The master bath has an oval mirror in addition to the one over the sink; the half-bath, a rectangular mirror with double beveled edges.
An antique round mirror with elaborate gold frame provides my out-the-door check point. It used to hang over my parent’s fireplace.
My computer space has two decorative mirrors, though I rarely look into them.
A large mirror pretends to be a window in my living room.
There are two mirrors in my kitchen – part of my attempt at feng shui.
And finally, even my laundry room has its very own mirror!
Have you been counting? I had to do three passes through the house to come up with the correct number (17) and even then, missed the tiny mirror in that ‘sun/moon’ from Mexico!
Why so many mirrors? I mean, I have south-facing windows across the living room. But much of the rest of the house gets no direct light. Mirrors give depth. When we took the mirror out of my bathroom, it felt as though the wall had moved in two feet, the room made eerily smaller.
And light. Mirrors give light – or the illusion of it. While I’m not constantly aware of all those mirrors, I believe they lighten my mood and expand my vision.
Mirror, mirror. Maybe I have enough. Or maybe just one more . . .
Thursday, February 13, 2020
RATS!
I stopped mid-sentence, mouth agape and watched it race down the hall, dash into my bathroom.
Yikes! A rat, I said, and clicked end on my phone.
I scurried to my neighbor’s in need of moral support. We’ve known there are rats around since her dog alerted her to one on her patio. We live next to the Delta Ponds. But inside?!
In a way, though, it was a relief. For several weeks I had ‘seen’ movement in my peripheral vision. But each time, when I looked - nothing there.
Well, at least I’m not losing my mind. Or my vision.
My neighbor loaned me her trap and some peanut butter. I set it in my kitchen that night.
Next morning, the trap was sprung, empty . . . and the peanut butter devoured! Clever little beasts.
Thus began a campaign to block all potential entry points. Steel wool and duct tape over the obvious spots. A few days went by. Then one morning there were two piles of confetti – one by the kitchen sink, one by the cabinets opposite. I was puzzled, because this wasn’t paper and I couldn’t think what I might have dropped there. I vacuumed it up.
Next day, a smaller pile by the sink. I peered under the cabinet doors and saw the gnawed plastic baseboard molding! There’s a gap between the bottom of the cabinet and the baseboard. They were making a new entry!
Oh, rats! I exclaimed, feeling a bit like Charlie Brown, bamboozled again - and by actual rats!
More steel wool. More crannies stuffed. More duct tape.
My neighbor and I share a wall and the crawl space. Fortunately, we’re good friends. And she hates rats. We needed a Rat Patrol and it wasn’t going to be us.
Her daughter recommended a company.
We scheduled an inspection. They sent a guy to set traps and seal the holes in foundation vents and other entry points.
He checked the traps a week later. I asked if they caught any.
Nope, he said. They’re smart. They bump the trap, it springs. They eat the peanut butter.
Somehow, I felt better. And not about the rats. Even professionals fail.
Footnote: eventually, five rats trapped, no more gnawing or scurrying inside! Yay!
Yikes! A rat, I said, and clicked end on my phone.
I scurried to my neighbor’s in need of moral support. We’ve known there are rats around since her dog alerted her to one on her patio. We live next to the Delta Ponds. But inside?!
In a way, though, it was a relief. For several weeks I had ‘seen’ movement in my peripheral vision. But each time, when I looked - nothing there.
Well, at least I’m not losing my mind. Or my vision.
My neighbor loaned me her trap and some peanut butter. I set it in my kitchen that night.
Next morning, the trap was sprung, empty . . . and the peanut butter devoured! Clever little beasts.
Thus began a campaign to block all potential entry points. Steel wool and duct tape over the obvious spots. A few days went by. Then one morning there were two piles of confetti – one by the kitchen sink, one by the cabinets opposite. I was puzzled, because this wasn’t paper and I couldn’t think what I might have dropped there. I vacuumed it up.
Next day, a smaller pile by the sink. I peered under the cabinet doors and saw the gnawed plastic baseboard molding! There’s a gap between the bottom of the cabinet and the baseboard. They were making a new entry!
Oh, rats! I exclaimed, feeling a bit like Charlie Brown, bamboozled again - and by actual rats!
More steel wool. More crannies stuffed. More duct tape.
My neighbor and I share a wall and the crawl space. Fortunately, we’re good friends. And she hates rats. We needed a Rat Patrol and it wasn’t going to be us.
Her daughter recommended a company.
We scheduled an inspection. They sent a guy to set traps and seal the holes in foundation vents and other entry points.
He checked the traps a week later. I asked if they caught any.
Nope, he said. They’re smart. They bump the trap, it springs. They eat the peanut butter.
Somehow, I felt better. And not about the rats. Even professionals fail.
Footnote: eventually, five rats trapped, no more gnawing or scurrying inside! Yay!
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