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Oh, I Love that Magic Water…Boston, You’re My Home – Standelles, “Dirty Water”, circa 1966

Originally posted on Boomers...Broken down or Blissful? :

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Two Bunch Palms is a resort on the way to Palm Springs, in a small city called Desert Hot Springs, also known as the meth amphetamine capital of California.   I did not know this as I followed directions through a somewhat frightening stretch of desert.   The small resort had been around since the 1930’s and was reputed to be one of Al Capone’s hang-outs.  What interested me more was the reputed “magic water” in the natural mineral spa.

Having grown up surrounded by the luxurious greenery that is the East Coast, the desert has always seemed a bit stark.  The approach to Two Bunch was definitely stark…and scary.  There was a guard gate where they made sure you were on the list and approved to enter.   We checked in, found our oddly appointed room comfortable and headed for that water.  I sat under the hot waterfall and floated around on…

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Wherever You Go…There You Are

It’s Fall… 2014…I could say “how did that happen?” but as the days jettison into weeks and months we all know the answer.  It just does.  Cliches are true ~ time flies.  Yes, it does.  But there is magic in memories, both past and present.   Another cliche…life is a roller coaster.  Yes, it is.   The seemingly endless climbs, the sense of exhilaration as you sit poised at the top, knowing in the blink of an eye the bottom will drop out of your stomach as you race on your way to yet another climb.  Some days the ride is better than others.  That’s for sure.  But every day you wake up is the present.   A present…a gift to be savored or squandered. Our choice.

During my lifetime, I’ve spent far too much time worrying about things that never happened.  And then been smacked in the face with things I never considered.  So, today the moral of my story is  “what me, worry?” Worrying has done me no good whatsoever.  I choose to savor the sweet as it happens. bundt cake  I’ve been blessed with many great experiences and great people in my life along my journey.

I’ve lived in amazingly wonderful places.  A childhood spent among idyllic beauty.  OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA       Shu Swamp   LV Fire Department

 

I’ve experienced salt water in abundance, deeply breathing negative ions before I ever knew how much I needed them. stehli sign    more shu swamp

After many years in Los Angeles, in 2006 my husband and I moved to Seattle.  We’d never been to Seattle.  Seattle is beautiful.  OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Seattle is green.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA I planted a backyard garden.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It rains a lot in Seattle but it doesn’t snow in Seattle. Until the winter we arrived. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA   OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

There are wind storms in Seattle and trees fall on your house. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA  Twice. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA  And the electricity goes out for six days.  In December.  On the sixth day I cried when I saw the light was on in the dryer.  Jay said he’d never seen me so excited about an appliance.  But then Spring comes along and those bulbs I planted in the fall actually bloom.  OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA    There is stunning sunshine.  OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

And the Blue Angels flew over our house.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA   We visited Victoria.  Butchart-Gardens-Victoria-Canada   Victoria.carriage

We spent countless hours at the Public Market.public market   Although I must be honest, I still don’t get the fish throwers.  Stock-Fish-Throw  But I will say fresh sockeye salmon was like no other.  And then…things changed.  More about that another time.  But there were worries…some sleepless nights…and then another new chapter.   The time I spent worrying was wasted.  It accomplished absolutely nothing.  Did I then learn the lesson of living in the present?  Of course not!  I am nothing if not a work in progress.  The only ~ and I mean only ~ thing I would change about this chapter is to take back the time I spent worrying.  It was a great adventure!  Seeing and doing things I’d never imagine I’d experience.  It was wonderful!!

But this is today…a ride in the car with dogs who won’t let us leave without them.   Ride with Mom   A walk along the Pacific  Beach office

Oh, and something we never did in Seattle.  A visit to Costco.  Hot dog   Lunch for two ~ $3.24 …. don’t judge!   Perhaps not the most memorable day ever.  But pretty darn wonderful!

Enjoy the day!  Remember, it’s a gift!

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A Short Thought

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A friend’s son told her some of the most useful education he ever received came from “McDonalds University” when he spent a summer working at the local establishment. Don’t ever say “how are you” to an old person. Because they’ll tell you. While I refuse to define myself as old, I am surely circling the drain of middle age.  I find it’s easy these days to learn about new ailments for which there may, or may not, be viable assistance available. Just listen to the latest television commercials. It seems constipation is a big hoot these days and the drug they’re recently hawking days has fetching side effects.  I say, more fiber first!  

When I’m home during the day I admit to having a television on for background noise, and find the target audience for many health accoutrements are definitely women of a certain age. We really seem to need a whole lot of help for a myriad of issues. My personal offensive favorite are the women jumping around doing the twist ~ badly ~ while the lyrics commend leak proof underwear. Seriously? Men are portrayed as handsome, virile and “ready for anything when the moment is right”  because “this is the age of knowing what you’re made of “and we look like lunatics who wet our pants?

 Really?

Tena

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Life is Not for the Faint of Heart

How is it that we don’t know how hard it is to live until it’s just that?  If we’re lucky, we wander through childhood blissfully unaware. Or we’re subliminally aware something isn’t quite right but not savvy enough to know what quite right is…or isn’t. Then all of a sudden the you know what hits the fan. For some of us it happens when we’re very young. Divorce…death…harsh realities come crashing down and we’re there just living with it. Handling it…or not.

I had no idea my world was seriously off kilter until I was twenty eight. Oh, there were signs. There was an undercurrent of ugly. Yet life in an idyllic bubble was easily skewed into a variety of excuses that wound up with “me” being the problem. There is no need to get into any of that. Suffice it to say, I was a good kid. Curiously creative during a time when there was so much to create. Also, in many ways, very fortunate to live an upper middle class life in an amazingly amazing environment.  Where I grew up, from ten to twenty-one, was incredible. The sweet smell of green grass in the spring and summer. Fireflies. Croquet in the back yard. Walking home past the Fire House after school from the Valley Tea Shoppe following a ciggie and a vanilla coke.

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Yet, reality reared its’ head from time to time. The Cuban Missile Crisis. New-York-Times-on-Cuban-Missile-Crisis

My husband grew up on the West Coast and to him it was merely a blip. To me, it was the possibility of the ultimate “duck and cover.” Seriously, we hid under our desks? To avoid nuclear obliteration. I clearly remember walking home from the Tea Shoppe during those days and hitting some leaves on a tree as I walked around the curve between the library, the fire house and our street, The Knolls. I remember thinking, “I might never do this again.”  Our family, like so many others, had put lots of Campbell soup in our basement ~ despite multiple above ground windows.

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While extinction seemed possible ~ and imminent ~ there was the underlying belief it would all turn out alright, because it always had during my lifetime to that point.  After days holding our collective breaths, it did turn out alright.  And life went on in a mostly bucolic fashion.  Yet the peace of our reality continued to run parallel to intermittent blips of national and world wide horrendous. We remember what they were ~ no need to recount again.

In the bubble we moved forward ~ got our drivers licenses and went swimming at Shu Swamp in March just because we could. Shu Swamp

Our rebellion included a few beers and the refusal to go into school one day late in the year in protest. What were we protesting? The right of boys to not wearing socks and girls to wear cullote pants. Seriously. We wearers of circle pins were true rebels.

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My life mirrored that of so many others during that time.  Smooth sailing on the surface as we paddled madly to stay afloat.  A sense of discontent that all was not what it seemed without having any idea how to change the status quo.  No one I knew was wildly problematic.  We weren’t type cast to be “flower children.”  We sat on Stehli’s beach during the summer slathering ourselves in baby oil with iodine and worked at the Pig ‘n Whistle.   stehli sign

Yet the time of real change was rapidly approaching.   What would happen next?

 

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Break a Leg…or not!

Let me first say my bones are intact. Not for lack of slipping and sliding on my part, being a “flounder foot” since childhood, but that’s a whole different conversation. I went back to work. Briefly.  At an amazing venue right here in Vista, California ~ Moonlight Amphitheatre. While I’d hoped to have some time to acclimate, I was on-stage on Day Two practicing a “curtain speech,” and in front of more than twelve hundred on Day Seven.  Gulp!!!  There I was, right up there on that stage.  Luckily, not alone.  Steve Glaudini, the amazing Creative Director ~ now starring as Mr. Banks in Moonlight’s wonderful production of Mary Poppins ~ kindly encouraged!  

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I’ve spent many hours in television studios but I am definitely a behind the scenes sort. Nonetheless, I did not fall into the Orchestra pit, but my dear husband ~ being a “front of the house” person often ~ kindly suggested we prerecord the speeches so they were as professional as the rest of the show.

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I did not take offense. The shows put on at Moonlight Amphitheatre are amazing. I knew I was the dancing popcorn box amid the preshow flurry. And I didn’t even have to ask anyone to turn off their cell-phone. Now that I think of it, no one was looking at their cell phones. They were ~ gasp! ~ interacting with one another. They were having a picnic on the lawn with their families. Or eating at the Artisan Restaurant with friends. Or meeting friends and talking before the show.

What an amazing concept!!

Spamalot

My Fair Lady begins on August 13th.  If you live anywhere near North County ~ San Diego, come enjoy an amazing evening!    

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I Plead the Fifth ~ July 5th

I keep meaning to post to my blog, but I don’t. Kind of like I keep meaning to stop eating chips. The “statistics” on the blog are on my desktop, reminding me daily of something I keep meaning to do but don’t. It’s interesting to me that just about every day one or two people look at various posts on the blog. Some from South America are very interested in the old posts about Mrs. Grenville and Peacock Point. I wonder why briefly and then usually play Candy Crush Saga. I’m on Level 309 in case you’re interested. Pathetic, perhaps. Addictive, definitely.

But now that I remembered the pass word and got onto my blog I have to figure out all the new bells and whistles they’ve introduced in the three months since I last posted. I am a luddite technilogically ~ it will take longer to figure out how to post what I write than it will take me to write it. Bet? OY! I don’t have time for this frustration. I’m tired…I went back to work three weeks ago. Part time. Sort of. But that’s a whole different story for another day.   www.moonlightstage.com

Today I’m thinking about past adventures. Friendships old and new. Life. Memories. I love that I still see people I’ve known for many, many years. Last week I had lunch with someone I’ve known for fifty years. Yesterday a BBQ with two forty year friends. Catching up with old friends is easy. There’s something about knowing someone from your past that makes it simple to fast forward to the present.Timo

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Exercise Hurts

ImageI wish I could say I’m one of those really athletic types, but I’m afraid my prowess was accurately noted in seventh grade when I accidently shot Betty Dykstra in the calf with an arrow during archery in gym class.   I’m a pretty good swimmer, had a proclivity for golf at an early age but wanted to spend my summer days drenched in baby oil and iodine at Stehli’s Beach rather than pursue whacking a little ball around.   Let’s just say my exercise regimen has been spotty.  ImageIn the eighties I wore leg warmers during step aerobics and have the crunchy knees to prove it.  And with the big hair and big glasses I fit right in.  Image    I did take tennis lessons with my husband and was better than he was and I didn’t let him win so we stopped taking lessons.  Then we got divorced.  I never played tennis again.   I did a half marathon once.  In the pouring rain.  I ate the hugest steak after.  And ached for about a week.  I have a edal to prove it somewhere.

I am a strange anomaly.  I am a left-handed person who does all sports right handed.  I think that has to do with age.  They handed me scissors and I used them with my right hand.  But those desks…and loose leaf notebooks.  Wait, this has nothing to do with sports other than the fact that about two weeks ago I decided “enough.”  Time to get back to exercise other than the walks I take with Riley and Harley each morning.   But…what to do?  A high school friend, Annie Durkin lives here in San Diego and loves Jazzercise.   So I looked up the schedule…about three months ago.  I used to love yoga.  I found a couple of places near home and looked up the schedule…about three months ago.  But now with my declaration of “enough” I started seeking.  My doctor said “walk forty-five minutes in one direction and then head home.”  Yeah, sure.  I said, “let’s start small and head for the beach.”   So I went to the beach.  I took deep breaths and in an instant I remembered just how much I love the smell of salt air.  There is nothing quite like it.  If you grow up near salt water it is truly ingrained on your soul.  I walked down the sea wall path the first day to Life Guard Stand 37 and back to the lot where I parked my car.  A half hour.  Ok…that was good.

The next day I made poor Harley and Riley walk farther.  Riley was on board but Harley has a very set schedule and breakfast at 8:00AM is etched in his brain.  He kept putting his leash in his mouth and dragging me in the opposite direction.  OK, pound puppy.  Next day I decide to find out just where the sea wall ends and park my car on the street above the parking lot and climb down 50 steps at Lifeguard Stand 36.  I head North to find out where the sea wall ends.  It ends with a steep hill up to the street and as I walk back to my car I think “OK…down stairs don’t count as much as upstairs do but that hill sucked.”  Forty-two minutes.  Works for me.  I am inching up to that 90 minutes one step at a time.  And don’t 50 steps count for something?  Even if they’re going down?Image

That afternoon I was meeting a good friend.  We’d reconnected after years apart after I moved to San Diego.  Such bliss!  We decided to hit golf balls and then attempt a game at some future date.  I forgot to mention that somewhere in the 1990’s I dated a great completely wrong for me guy, who was an excellent golfer so I played once again.  Muscle memory is amazing and I’d accumulated not one, but two sets of golf clubs that we moved from city to city over the past seven years.  Jay, a non-golfer, commented upon each move, “so we really have to take these?”  So glad I always said “yes.”  We whacked those balls…about 60 each.  By the time I went to bed I thought perhaps I had overdone my activity that day.

When I awoke the next morning I was more certain.   I don’t know about you, but mornings are the great equalizer in the muscle equation.  Somehow sleep, no matter how fleeting, along with lying dormant bring those facts into clear view.  I got out of bed and said “ouch.”  But I was determined to get up and walk through it because I had promised to go to a Jazzercise class at 8:45AM.  I admit to being insane.  I will do nothing for months and then…well, do this.   The Jazzercise class is about two minutes from my house.  I got there and discovered that instead of whatever Jazzercise is they were doing body sculpting today.  Body sculpting?  The ship sailed on that years ago.  What I’m hoping for now is a small reduction in my bat wings.  But I soldiered on with the weights and the mat and the plastic rope thingy.

Then I went walk the sea wall.  Let me explain about my love of water.  The smell of salt water soothes my soul…seriously.  Image

To me a long soak in a hot tub is about the best way to end a day.  Add candles and bubble bath and I’m happier than I can express. Two days later I decided to park in the parking lot and walk in a circle. Yet the circle includes walking UP the stairs.  All fifty-five of them.

My friend and I have played golf since…I have walked the walk.  I have climbed the stairs.  My body accepts and rejects these advances toward fitness with amicable distaste.  I recognize this and agree.  Yet I am enjoying the resurgence of endorphin, that marvelous chemical that tells my brain “I feel better.”

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When will it tell my body?

We shall see.