Shoot--why not? Everyone else is reviewing the year...and/or...predicting the new one.
The year was difficult. Losing a spouse is difficult, as are the days, weeks, months prior to that loss when one is struggling so hard against the bitter reality that it's exhausting. That is my review of the year.
Here is a capsule of 2014, personal and world-wide.
First the world-wide:
1. Janet Yellin will prove to be even more irritating, intolerable and boring than Ben Bernanke ever was.
2. The President will not do anything for the people that we really need, like fix the roads, fix the railroads, work on the infrastructure of electricity and power.
3. Congress will continue to preen and squabble, both at the same time.
4. Money will get more costly. Some things will begin to get scarce, but there will be plenty of junk and trash.
5. Food is going out of sight as to price. Unless you are buying bars, crackers, cookies, chips. You may have all of those that you wish for a reasonable price.
6. The weather will continue to be bizarre because the weather has always had a mind of its own, and is whimsical. Get a good roof and good drainage and hunker down.
7. About water, I do not know. I predict it will be dry in the deserts and more wet near rivers and streams.
8. If you want to buy stuff to store for the future, I recommend: man made blankets of the furry kind that are almost unbelieveably warm and very light weight; salt; ammo (tho I do not even have a gun and will be the first to go down.); Bibles; good shoes; aspirin; asthma inhalers.
9. War will break out in the Middle East, Africa, the Balkans (if they are even real any more), and the parts of Europe that are heavily populated with Muslims at the present time. Americans will become even more paranoid than they are at present, but nothing will be done about our own political/racial problems as usual.
10. Music, literature and art will continue.
11. Films will get better and worse. The good ones will be unbelieveably good, and the bad ones will make a lot lot lot of money.
12. Smart people will begin to equate good health with good food. There will be a lot of controversy about what good food is, and it'll take a lot of study to figure out what is good for one, and a lot of work to find the good stuff after one has figured it out. It will be costly.
13. Mexico will begin to, or perhaps continue to is the better choice of words, wake up as to its inherent value and power of culture, nature, climate, and people.
14. Travel will get more difficult, but lots of people will be traveling more than ever.
15. I am running out of steam. There are topics I haven't touched I am sure. Later!!
As for my personal predicions for my personal year. I will obey the I Ching, which gave me CHIEN, the Great Creative Principle, for my New Year's reading. The practical application of that supernal hexagram is: Work, work, work! Work will save me, save my situation, be my touchstone for 2014. What more could one ask? YAZZYBEL
Monday, January 6, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
How to Do Things (tips for 2014)
Good morning. Here are some tips for starting the New Year right. I've planned for some time to make a blog post on each of these subjects, but the time never seems right. What could be righter than to do it now, while the year is new and you're in the mood to listen?
How to Buy Socks
For winter, buy all black socks. For summer, buy all white socks. Buy them all of the same style and of the same brand. You may be tempted to get brown sox or navy socks under the impression that black and brown or navy and brown do not go together. Nonsense. No subtle color improvements could begin to compensate with the loss of one of a pair of brown or blue sox, in which case you'll have to use one black one anyway and look like a goose.
My present socks are of the Hue brand, ribbed cotton anklets. They do not have any elastic so do not press on the foot or leg and are quite comfortable. For summer you'll be tempted to get beige socks or even, as I foolishly did, pale gray and medium gray socks both. Naturally, I go about with one pale gray and one medium gray paired together, and nobody has commented yet. But save yourself trouble, and just get white. Lots of time in summer you'll go sockless, of course, and that's the best and thriftiest way of all.
How to Use the Toilet
Yes, these basic tips are necessary even for those who have lived a long time in civilization. Especially for us, perhaps...
The first thing to remember is to keep the lid closed at all times that the toilet is not in use. It is not pretty to see a yawning bowl when you look at it. The second thing is this: after you have used the toilet, move both lid and seat up and down looking underneath everything, to make sure things are as neat as you can probably leave them. Bathroom stains of any sort are an anathema, and while we are married we can ascribe them to the grossness of men, but when we are single, there's nobody to blame but ourselves. When everything is neat and clean, then close the lid.
How to Drive the Freeway
Being many years a Californian, I am still astounded at how many people do not know how to drive on the freeway. Let us assume that there are four or five lanes going your way. The extreme right lane as you see it is the getting-off lane, and is the only lane in which you are permitted to drive slower than the speed limit (65, at the present time, in California). Sometimes you are not sure whether you're in the getting off lane or not, but if you are to the right side of a line of squares on the pavement, you are getting off for sure. Do not change your mind at the last minute; it's terribly dangerous.
The next lane to the left of the getting-off lane is the might-be-getting-off lane, and in this lane you may be excused for a little slowness or temporary hesitancy while making up your mind. But 65 is still the rule of the day here.
One over to the left, you must go faster than 65. This is lane 3. You don't have to go much faster than 65, but you do have to move a little. This is the lane that causes all the problems coming up to San Diego from Chula Vista, because all the Tijuana people are on it and they mostly do not know that it is not okay to go 45 on the freeway, especially if you are not in the extreme right-hand lane.
In lane 4, you are expected to drive seventy or seventy five at least, taking advantage of open space to pick up some territory. And in lane 5, the sky's the limit within reason. (And sometimes not.) Many people are afraid of lanes 4 and 5, but really they are the safest lanes usually, as the best drivers are usually there if they have any distance to go at all.
You should use your turn signals on the freeway at all times when maneuvering from one lane to another, because people really do watch and really do yield when they see your intentions, and sometimes that can be terribly important.
How to Make a Cup of Tea
I do not need to tell you how to make a cup of tea, because George Orwell already did that perfectly.I remember having read that essay long ago and have never deviated from his principles except that I do use tea bags and I don't think they are ideal.
I had another How-to to add, but have forgotten what it was. Perhaps my New Year's Resolution should have been: remember things. I did do the I Ching on New Year's Eve...I got "Chien: The Creative Principle"; I could have received no better advice. The gist of creativity, it seems, is, "Work, work, work." The Superior Man busies himself from dawn to dusk. So says the I Ching and it is never wrong. YAZZYBEL
How to Buy Socks
For winter, buy all black socks. For summer, buy all white socks. Buy them all of the same style and of the same brand. You may be tempted to get brown sox or navy socks under the impression that black and brown or navy and brown do not go together. Nonsense. No subtle color improvements could begin to compensate with the loss of one of a pair of brown or blue sox, in which case you'll have to use one black one anyway and look like a goose.
My present socks are of the Hue brand, ribbed cotton anklets. They do not have any elastic so do not press on the foot or leg and are quite comfortable. For summer you'll be tempted to get beige socks or even, as I foolishly did, pale gray and medium gray socks both. Naturally, I go about with one pale gray and one medium gray paired together, and nobody has commented yet. But save yourself trouble, and just get white. Lots of time in summer you'll go sockless, of course, and that's the best and thriftiest way of all.
How to Use the Toilet
Yes, these basic tips are necessary even for those who have lived a long time in civilization. Especially for us, perhaps...
The first thing to remember is to keep the lid closed at all times that the toilet is not in use. It is not pretty to see a yawning bowl when you look at it. The second thing is this: after you have used the toilet, move both lid and seat up and down looking underneath everything, to make sure things are as neat as you can probably leave them. Bathroom stains of any sort are an anathema, and while we are married we can ascribe them to the grossness of men, but when we are single, there's nobody to blame but ourselves. When everything is neat and clean, then close the lid.
How to Drive the Freeway
Being many years a Californian, I am still astounded at how many people do not know how to drive on the freeway. Let us assume that there are four or five lanes going your way. The extreme right lane as you see it is the getting-off lane, and is the only lane in which you are permitted to drive slower than the speed limit (65, at the present time, in California). Sometimes you are not sure whether you're in the getting off lane or not, but if you are to the right side of a line of squares on the pavement, you are getting off for sure. Do not change your mind at the last minute; it's terribly dangerous.
The next lane to the left of the getting-off lane is the might-be-getting-off lane, and in this lane you may be excused for a little slowness or temporary hesitancy while making up your mind. But 65 is still the rule of the day here.
One over to the left, you must go faster than 65. This is lane 3. You don't have to go much faster than 65, but you do have to move a little. This is the lane that causes all the problems coming up to San Diego from Chula Vista, because all the Tijuana people are on it and they mostly do not know that it is not okay to go 45 on the freeway, especially if you are not in the extreme right-hand lane.
In lane 4, you are expected to drive seventy or seventy five at least, taking advantage of open space to pick up some territory. And in lane 5, the sky's the limit within reason. (And sometimes not.) Many people are afraid of lanes 4 and 5, but really they are the safest lanes usually, as the best drivers are usually there if they have any distance to go at all.
You should use your turn signals on the freeway at all times when maneuvering from one lane to another, because people really do watch and really do yield when they see your intentions, and sometimes that can be terribly important.
How to Make a Cup of Tea
I do not need to tell you how to make a cup of tea, because George Orwell already did that perfectly.I remember having read that essay long ago and have never deviated from his principles except that I do use tea bags and I don't think they are ideal.
I had another How-to to add, but have forgotten what it was. Perhaps my New Year's Resolution should have been: remember things. I did do the I Ching on New Year's Eve...I got "Chien: The Creative Principle"; I could have received no better advice. The gist of creativity, it seems, is, "Work, work, work." The Superior Man busies himself from dawn to dusk. So says the I Ching and it is never wrong. YAZZYBEL
Monday, December 30, 2013
Train Travel, December. 2013
Good morning!
I arrived home at nine last night after a train trip up and back to Concord, CA. to visit my son Ben for Christmas.
I'll just record a few impressions gathered along the way.
Train travel is much less charged with anxiety than air travel. Doesn't make much sense, given the gruesome reports we've lately had from crashes in the news...but it's the truth: as soon as that smooth roll-out begins in the station, you can just feel the spirit of pleasure spread throughout the train. People just relax, and look around them with the happy anticipation of children.
Amtrak has improved its service, by and large, since I was last on the train fifteen years ago. There's more communication, and more politeness. Of course, the last time I went it was on the Southwest Chief, and who knows if it's still bad on there...
This was a Pacific coast trip, and people were trying very hard to keep things efficient and happy.
The first part of my journey, toward the north, was very well managed. The shift from one train to another in LA was well managed with a cheerful Mexican people-mover driver who shuttled me rapidly to a good lounge with coffee, breakfast (if a commercial muffin is a breakfaast)...and newpapers. And as promised he came back to get me when my train was due and whisked me to my roomette, where I spent most of the day.
I ate lunch early since I'd been up since four, and had a pleasant meal of salad and chile and blood-orange sorbet. The quality of the meal was about that of a Denney's, I'd say, but clean and quite edible. After lunch the attendant in my car made my roomette into a bed, and I snoozed for three hours, more or less, before arising. He made the bed back into chairs for the rest of the trip, and when I decided that I didnt want to hazard the 3-car trip to the diner again, he brought me my chosen supper of a child's meal (Kosher hot dog), mashed potatoes, and string beans, plus more sorbet as they were out of the vanilla pudding. It was dark by then and I gazed out the window till the train arrived in Martinez and Ben picked me up.
Coming home was another story, as my mother would have had it. I chose the confused inland route because it gets one home three hours earlier than the direct one. Don't ask me why; I dont understand it. You get a morning's ride in a coach car, a one-p.m. change to a bus, with arrival at blase Union Station at four, and another train ride from there at five until eight.
When I got to Santa Fe Station in San Diego at eight, I found that my bag had preceded me. It was inside in the waiting room already. I am still puzzled about that. How can it be? If my bag, which was accepted onto the same train in Martinez that I rode on, how could it have eluded el bos and arrived in San Diego earlier than eight? And if it could, and it obviously did, why shouldnt I be enabled to follow the same route? Curiouser.
The only hitch in the whole works is that I was already tired by the time I was in LA. It was a pleasure to see the Union Station again, always a place of interest, but it was only by my own initiative and not waiting to be called as they told me, that I was able to grab my own people-mover and be taken to my train on time. But carrying my ten-ton purse around is difficult, and the extra handbag though light is another preoccupation. So by the time I was on the train to SD, I was very tired. I'd made a chicken sandwich in Concord, to bring along, and a very nice lady on the train gave me a burrito (small) that she'd made in her kitchen in Richmond, so I was adequately fed. On the rushing stop-and-start Surfliner train from LA to SD, the attendant gave me a bag with lots of little snack packages, and my choice of water, soda, or wine. I chose water.
Upon arrival, I was told that my bag would be inside perhaps and that I would get it and the taxi afterward...I was the last person from my train to look for a taxi, and there was one man left. He was cheerful and an efficient driver, and got me home by nine. Thus concluded my train journey.
The only real question in all this is ME. Do I have the endurance that it takes for an all-day battle with my possessions, my physical limitations (having to go to the bathroom), my reluctance to use the train stairs or go too many cars to the food car...do I??? In general, though, I'd say that the service on Amtrak was very good, and that the people on board in general were polite, relaxed, and happier than fliers. YAZZYBEL
I arrived home at nine last night after a train trip up and back to Concord, CA. to visit my son Ben for Christmas.
I'll just record a few impressions gathered along the way.
Train travel is much less charged with anxiety than air travel. Doesn't make much sense, given the gruesome reports we've lately had from crashes in the news...but it's the truth: as soon as that smooth roll-out begins in the station, you can just feel the spirit of pleasure spread throughout the train. People just relax, and look around them with the happy anticipation of children.
Amtrak has improved its service, by and large, since I was last on the train fifteen years ago. There's more communication, and more politeness. Of course, the last time I went it was on the Southwest Chief, and who knows if it's still bad on there...
This was a Pacific coast trip, and people were trying very hard to keep things efficient and happy.
The first part of my journey, toward the north, was very well managed. The shift from one train to another in LA was well managed with a cheerful Mexican people-mover driver who shuttled me rapidly to a good lounge with coffee, breakfast (if a commercial muffin is a breakfaast)...and newpapers. And as promised he came back to get me when my train was due and whisked me to my roomette, where I spent most of the day.
I ate lunch early since I'd been up since four, and had a pleasant meal of salad and chile and blood-orange sorbet. The quality of the meal was about that of a Denney's, I'd say, but clean and quite edible. After lunch the attendant in my car made my roomette into a bed, and I snoozed for three hours, more or less, before arising. He made the bed back into chairs for the rest of the trip, and when I decided that I didnt want to hazard the 3-car trip to the diner again, he brought me my chosen supper of a child's meal (Kosher hot dog), mashed potatoes, and string beans, plus more sorbet as they were out of the vanilla pudding. It was dark by then and I gazed out the window till the train arrived in Martinez and Ben picked me up.
Coming home was another story, as my mother would have had it. I chose the confused inland route because it gets one home three hours earlier than the direct one. Don't ask me why; I dont understand it. You get a morning's ride in a coach car, a one-p.m. change to a bus, with arrival at blase Union Station at four, and another train ride from there at five until eight.
When I got to Santa Fe Station in San Diego at eight, I found that my bag had preceded me. It was inside in the waiting room already. I am still puzzled about that. How can it be? If my bag, which was accepted onto the same train in Martinez that I rode on, how could it have eluded el bos and arrived in San Diego earlier than eight? And if it could, and it obviously did, why shouldnt I be enabled to follow the same route? Curiouser.
The only hitch in the whole works is that I was already tired by the time I was in LA. It was a pleasure to see the Union Station again, always a place of interest, but it was only by my own initiative and not waiting to be called as they told me, that I was able to grab my own people-mover and be taken to my train on time. But carrying my ten-ton purse around is difficult, and the extra handbag though light is another preoccupation. So by the time I was on the train to SD, I was very tired. I'd made a chicken sandwich in Concord, to bring along, and a very nice lady on the train gave me a burrito (small) that she'd made in her kitchen in Richmond, so I was adequately fed. On the rushing stop-and-start Surfliner train from LA to SD, the attendant gave me a bag with lots of little snack packages, and my choice of water, soda, or wine. I chose water.
Upon arrival, I was told that my bag would be inside perhaps and that I would get it and the taxi afterward...I was the last person from my train to look for a taxi, and there was one man left. He was cheerful and an efficient driver, and got me home by nine. Thus concluded my train journey.
The only real question in all this is ME. Do I have the endurance that it takes for an all-day battle with my possessions, my physical limitations (having to go to the bathroom), my reluctance to use the train stairs or go too many cars to the food car...do I??? In general, though, I'd say that the service on Amtrak was very good, and that the people on board in general were polite, relaxed, and happier than fliers. YAZZYBEL
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Almond Chocolate Chip Cookies
Today I made chocolate chip cookies from almond flour. The other ingredients were oil ( I used almond), chocolate chips, agave syrup, vanilla, a nip of baking soda, and a tiny nip of salt. That's all.
A very vegan dish.
They are quite tasty, and their only fault is delicacy. The second panful came out stronger because I added another 1/2 cup of almond flour to the mix. They came out of the pan better but were less sweet. It was okay , though, because most cookies nowadays are too sweet anyway.
These cookies are gluten free, wheat free, animal product free, and altogether pristine and innocent. They bake up nicely and look good. Would I just as soon have them as regular wheaten cookies with eggs, etc, in the mix? Yes! I am going to send some to my son and grandkids and they'll probably arrive in the form of crumbs. I'll see what I can do to protect them, but--
At church now, we are offered gluten free communion wafers at a separate little station from the glutinous throng. I always go to the gluten free station on the principle that it's there, take advantage of it. The gluten free wafers taste terrible, not that the others are any better. But we are not supposed to be thinking of taste, at the Holy Table. Are we? YAZZYBEL
A very vegan dish.
They are quite tasty, and their only fault is delicacy. The second panful came out stronger because I added another 1/2 cup of almond flour to the mix. They came out of the pan better but were less sweet. It was okay , though, because most cookies nowadays are too sweet anyway.
These cookies are gluten free, wheat free, animal product free, and altogether pristine and innocent. They bake up nicely and look good. Would I just as soon have them as regular wheaten cookies with eggs, etc, in the mix? Yes! I am going to send some to my son and grandkids and they'll probably arrive in the form of crumbs. I'll see what I can do to protect them, but--
At church now, we are offered gluten free communion wafers at a separate little station from the glutinous throng. I always go to the gluten free station on the principle that it's there, take advantage of it. The gluten free wafers taste terrible, not that the others are any better. But we are not supposed to be thinking of taste, at the Holy Table. Are we? YAZZYBEL
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Banh Mi
Good morning!
Last night I was a bit hungry at around four in the evening, so I went to pursue the Banh Mi at the local Vietnamese restaurant, Pho Hiep and Grill.
This cafe is in a strip mall near my house, the same strip mall where I get my hair done, often, and where I go to the supermarket. Theo and I used to eat at the "pho" from time to time, and would have eaten there more often had he been not so dedicated as a meat and potatoes guy. But now they have put the Banh Mi on the menu, which he would have appreciated.
The restaurant is pretty; as you go in the door you are confronted with a waterfall running down a tall panel of embossed glass. There are quite a few table, neat and clean wood, with dark wood chairs. All the dishes used are white. Pho, if you get that, is served in huge half-sphere white bowls. With nearly any meal you get a little dish of hot sauce and a little dish of sauce with carrot and jicama in it, with a sweetish water-vinegar sauce.
The Banh Mi is the "Vietnamese Sandwich," which is a pretty standard sandwich on a French baguette, using whatever kind of meat you choose (I had the ham/sausage one) plus the usual graceful Vietnamese garnish of grated carrots and herbs. There was absolutely no dressing on the sandwich of any sort, and it tasted pretty good that way.
The menu said that if I ate the sandwich in the restaurant it would come with chicken broth plus a side of chicken salad. What more could you want? I ate the hot clear soup. I nibbled the refreshing Vietnamese chicken salad, which is shredded chicken plus shredded cabbage and other leaves and carrots and herbs with the lightest imaginable dressing of vinegar, perhaps, and water. It was sprinkled with sauteed green onion slices and peanuts. Very delicious.
The Banh Mi waited in state on its white plate. It was on a narrow French baguette cut in two, with plenty of ham and so forth. I could only eat half, and could only eat half of the salad too. SO, when I finish this I am going to go to the refrigerator and have my lunch, which I brought home at five o'clock last night. Oh, and I had a fresh lemonade too, with the thinnest slice of green lime in it. Everything was just perfect. YAZZYBEL
Last night I was a bit hungry at around four in the evening, so I went to pursue the Banh Mi at the local Vietnamese restaurant, Pho Hiep and Grill.
This cafe is in a strip mall near my house, the same strip mall where I get my hair done, often, and where I go to the supermarket. Theo and I used to eat at the "pho" from time to time, and would have eaten there more often had he been not so dedicated as a meat and potatoes guy. But now they have put the Banh Mi on the menu, which he would have appreciated.
The restaurant is pretty; as you go in the door you are confronted with a waterfall running down a tall panel of embossed glass. There are quite a few table, neat and clean wood, with dark wood chairs. All the dishes used are white. Pho, if you get that, is served in huge half-sphere white bowls. With nearly any meal you get a little dish of hot sauce and a little dish of sauce with carrot and jicama in it, with a sweetish water-vinegar sauce.
The Banh Mi is the "Vietnamese Sandwich," which is a pretty standard sandwich on a French baguette, using whatever kind of meat you choose (I had the ham/sausage one) plus the usual graceful Vietnamese garnish of grated carrots and herbs. There was absolutely no dressing on the sandwich of any sort, and it tasted pretty good that way.
The menu said that if I ate the sandwich in the restaurant it would come with chicken broth plus a side of chicken salad. What more could you want? I ate the hot clear soup. I nibbled the refreshing Vietnamese chicken salad, which is shredded chicken plus shredded cabbage and other leaves and carrots and herbs with the lightest imaginable dressing of vinegar, perhaps, and water. It was sprinkled with sauteed green onion slices and peanuts. Very delicious.
The Banh Mi waited in state on its white plate. It was on a narrow French baguette cut in two, with plenty of ham and so forth. I could only eat half, and could only eat half of the salad too. SO, when I finish this I am going to go to the refrigerator and have my lunch, which I brought home at five o'clock last night. Oh, and I had a fresh lemonade too, with the thinnest slice of green lime in it. Everything was just perfect. YAZZYBEL
Monday, November 11, 2013
Out of Inspiration
Sister no. 5 tells me I'm overdue to write on my blog.
I just don't seem to have much to say. I came home from my trip refreshed and looking at things with new eyes...but something has bogged me down again.
Not that I feel so sad and lost any more (except at dusk). No, I just feel rather aimless and complacent here in my peignoir. Not even a green parrot to keep me interested. I want to be somewhere else but I don't know where it is. Doing something else but I sure dont know what that is either. Drifting towards Thanksgiving and Christmakkah, as they call it on the radio. This is not good, but we aren't supposed to judge our lives.
So I am not judging, just noting. "I'm just sayin'." YAZZYBEL
I just don't seem to have much to say. I came home from my trip refreshed and looking at things with new eyes...but something has bogged me down again.
Not that I feel so sad and lost any more (except at dusk). No, I just feel rather aimless and complacent here in my peignoir. Not even a green parrot to keep me interested. I want to be somewhere else but I don't know where it is. Doing something else but I sure dont know what that is either. Drifting towards Thanksgiving and Christmakkah, as they call it on the radio. This is not good, but we aren't supposed to judge our lives.
So I am not judging, just noting. "I'm just sayin'." YAZZYBEL
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Oh, there's the Range!
A long number of years ago, after a very difficult and traumatic passage in my life, I mounted a plane in Brownsville, Texas. My parents had bought my ticket, and I learned as the day went by that it included nine stops before the eventual arrival in Denver, Colorado.
It was a beautiful Texas June day, sunny and clear, and as we journeyed northward, and went down in every possible stop we could take in Texas, and a few more, it became afternoon and we were flying I guess over Kansas, and I was becoming more and more frazzled from the unfamiliarity of travel and so many landings and take-offs. I felt nervous and fatigued, and wondered if we'd ever arrive in Denver, Colorado.
In midafternoon an older lady boarded the plane and sat next to me by the window. I'd been looking out all day at oil reservoirs, square planes of fields in greens and yellow and browns, so wasn't interested in the window seat. She was pleasant and chatty, and it turned out that she was the mother of the rector of the Episcopal Church in Colorado Springs, our next to the last stop. She was so nice that I positively began to enjoy my trip, and as we talked I began to unwind a bit, distracted. After a time, she looked up from her knitting and remarked with pleasure, "Oh, there's the Range!"
I looked out the window and had the surprise of my life. Up from the flat terrain that we'd been flying over all day, sprang--the Rocky Mountains! All of a sudden, just like that! Vistas that I'd never imagined! Huge, spiky, rocky, jutting up into the sky in blues and greys and whites, for the afternoon had turned cloudy now...They sprang up out of nowhere, for me. I didn't know what I'd expected of Colorado, but the reality of the huge prospect was truly overwhelming.
The lady got off the plane in Colorado Springs, her family with son in clerical collar and straw hat, looking just like Robert Morley in The African Queen, teenagers standing by too...for airports were very different things in those days and greeters would wait outside by the fenced gate for the arrivers...and I never saw her again. Off she went, leaving me with one immortal phrase of pleasure and discovery: "Oh, there's the Range!"
When I left Denver 3 days ago, I had the great pleasure of flying over the snow-covered peaks of the Range again on a clear bright midday. And I remembered the past and the old lady. Lesson learned: we never know what's going to turn up for us to know, to learn, to love, to wonder at.
That was the great gift of my trip this month. You never know. There's a range I have not even imagined before me. There are choices to be made, but nobody is hurrying me. I came home calm, ready to make the decisions when I have to. YAZZYBEL
It was a beautiful Texas June day, sunny and clear, and as we journeyed northward, and went down in every possible stop we could take in Texas, and a few more, it became afternoon and we were flying I guess over Kansas, and I was becoming more and more frazzled from the unfamiliarity of travel and so many landings and take-offs. I felt nervous and fatigued, and wondered if we'd ever arrive in Denver, Colorado.
In midafternoon an older lady boarded the plane and sat next to me by the window. I'd been looking out all day at oil reservoirs, square planes of fields in greens and yellow and browns, so wasn't interested in the window seat. She was pleasant and chatty, and it turned out that she was the mother of the rector of the Episcopal Church in Colorado Springs, our next to the last stop. She was so nice that I positively began to enjoy my trip, and as we talked I began to unwind a bit, distracted. After a time, she looked up from her knitting and remarked with pleasure, "Oh, there's the Range!"
I looked out the window and had the surprise of my life. Up from the flat terrain that we'd been flying over all day, sprang--the Rocky Mountains! All of a sudden, just like that! Vistas that I'd never imagined! Huge, spiky, rocky, jutting up into the sky in blues and greys and whites, for the afternoon had turned cloudy now...They sprang up out of nowhere, for me. I didn't know what I'd expected of Colorado, but the reality of the huge prospect was truly overwhelming.
The lady got off the plane in Colorado Springs, her family with son in clerical collar and straw hat, looking just like Robert Morley in The African Queen, teenagers standing by too...for airports were very different things in those days and greeters would wait outside by the fenced gate for the arrivers...and I never saw her again. Off she went, leaving me with one immortal phrase of pleasure and discovery: "Oh, there's the Range!"
When I left Denver 3 days ago, I had the great pleasure of flying over the snow-covered peaks of the Range again on a clear bright midday. And I remembered the past and the old lady. Lesson learned: we never know what's going to turn up for us to know, to learn, to love, to wonder at.
That was the great gift of my trip this month. You never know. There's a range I have not even imagined before me. There are choices to be made, but nobody is hurrying me. I came home calm, ready to make the decisions when I have to. YAZZYBEL
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)