Monday, August 14, 2017

Joyful Noise

A few weeks ago, I texted with one of my sisters.  The topic was worshipful songsshe is the only sibling who goes to church and is interested in discussing spiritual matters, so I turned to her naturally.
  • Btw, the music director is in charge of the service this Sun, and he's interviewing some of the vocal forum people regarding a favorite worshipful song and why it's a favorite.  He asked me to be taped and I'm having a hard time thinking of a song.  Any ideas?
  • Some of mine: Lord of all hopefulness, what wondrous love is this, Praise to the Lord, Love Divine all love excelling
  • I don't think I know any of those! 😄
  • I do like immortal invisible
  • That was Dad's favorite
  • Maybe that's why
  • Check out the others sometime. Great melodies, harmonies, and lyrics. Oh, and Joshua fought the battle of Jericho.
  • Of course, there are oodles of Christmas favorites.  Check Wikipedia:  did you know Immortal Invisible was a Welsh tune? 
  • Most of my favorite hymns started out as secular tunes
  • Love divine has several tunes, but I think the one you like is probably Hygrydol, a "stately Welsh tune". Unitarians sing it to different words:  blue boat home
  • And Praise to the Lord the Almighty the king of creation?  I know that one too.  Good choices
  • Love Divine tune was written by Rowland H Prichard. It was one of the first songs I learned to sing harmony.
  • Now I have to pick one and say why... it's all in the music of course
  • Yeah. I can't just ignore the words. My favorite may be Lord of all hopefulness because it is
  •  a prayer that covers the whole day.
  • Maybe I'll just read this discussion! 
  • Just listened to it on YouTube:  I love that one too!
  • 😊
Like many, I have a complicated relationship with the divine and the various ways music is used to express it.  There are some songs that actively irritate me with their trite or unskilled words, just as there are some that match music and words so beautifully that I  am happy to do what I can to enunciate and sing the meaning, without necessarily believing it.  And that is where the whole concept of worshipful music is complicated.  Often, for me,  the music is the worship, and the words merely a vehicle for conveying it.  A musician atheist friend actually spent years mentally replacing sacred words with secular, sometimes profane, ones as she directed choirs and went through the services.  I am not that disaffected, though. Usually, if the music is strong and/or beautiful, I don't care if the words match.  (Although I'm still irritated about the mistranslation of "How lovely is thy dwelling place" to "how lovely are thy dwellings."  It's seems a willful misunderstanding of the meaning, much less the way words work with notes.)   

I didn't say most of this in my segment of the video, but I find myself thinking about it now that I am preparing to leave this religious community. I feel like I have joined them under false pretenses.  Still, when I joined the group, my first words were "Is music happening here?" And I never claimed that I was Lutheran, or even Christian.  But most people think that someone joins a church choir because of a belief in the liturgy.  That is not the case for me.  I join because it's a comfortable way to join a community and make music.  And, I'm curious.  I continue to read about many forms of religion,  worship, and spirituality.  Right now I'm reading Karen' Armstrong's The Great Transformation. Some concepts resonate more than others. Some of my friends are Christians, some are Buddhists, some have evolved a practise that works for them, and some are permanently alienated from the whole idea of religion.  I'm not alienated, but I still remember my Grandma Shapira telling me that I could meet a nice man if I went to church, and I responded that I didn't want to meet a nice man.  I was in my 20s, but not much has changed in that regard.  Suffice it to say,  I have been involved with many churches (and men for that matter), but have formally  joined none of them.  As a source of spiritual meaning, the jury is still out on organized religion. I find the familiarity comforting and the sincerity of the religious people I've met is very attractive.  However, if  I'm looking for community, I usually go for musical organizations.  And if I'm looking for the divine, I go towards nature or the Swedenborg concept of god in the here and now, an infinite being made finite by time and man's ability to experience it. Here in Claremont, the two sources dovetailed.
    For the video, I ended up talking about Immortal Invisible, although I also tried to sneak in some other favorites, like Tallis' Canon, because songs are like french fries:  you can't eat just one.  When I watched the video in the service, I was struck by the variety and depth displayed by this community I had joined serendipitously.  I already knew they were a welcoming and kind community.  I knew that they had a variety of life experiences and backgrounds.  But this video brought out a whole new layer of being.  I could resonate to the ideas:  the importance of words (yes, truly), the importance of community, the connection of music to people and social issues.  I knew that the director was sincere in his belief that learning and sharing music is more about being the best person you can be, and less about technique and a nice voice.  While he has his standards, he cares more about engagement, and while he was only a questioning voice on the tape, that caring came through as well in the editing and the conception of the video to begin with.

    I found this group through the Claremont Chamber of Commerce calendar, the same way I found Sumi and the Farmer's Market.  The Vocal Forum met for 8 weeks in the summer on Wednesday evenings.  It took place at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, so I checked out the description on the church web page and learned the following: 

    Good Shepherd is proud to host group vocal classes focused on technique, di
    ction, anatomy, and worship. Come and be surrounded by fellow singers all engaged in a common goal, to sing to our God-given potential. The event is led by Music Director and organist, Adan Fernandez. Masterclasses will be given by soprano Dr. Candace Bogan. Materials are provided. All you need to bring is a willing spirit and joyful song!

    It sounded worth checking out, even though they were already 3 weeks into it:  I've sung all my life, but it's been awhile since I've taken any voice lessons.  Various choral directors have taught methods and I've learned vocalizations and physical ways to influence the voice, like using the Alexander Technique.  The Unitarian Choir had annual workshops, and the Choral Arts Ensemble met at Menucha every fall for a weekend of instruction, community-building, and learning music. But all this was long ago, in Portland, and it had been a year since I sang with the Taos Community Chorus, and several years since I sang with the Santa Fe Orchestra Choir and the Coro de Camera.

    Practical matters aside, it seemed like a good way to connect with part of the Claremont Community.  There really is nothing like a shared goal to bring people together.  I hit the jackpot in another way, as well:  since basically everyone in the Forum was part of the music making at the church, I had a built-in weekly activity as well.

    I learned at the recital that Adan had an equally practical purpose in conducting the forum:  he takes his role as music director very seriously, and he wanted to address the annual musical hiatus that takes place in most churches. The Forum gave the choir members a chance to learn musical techniques, build musical confidence, and prepare for the next year.  The real goal, though, was to give people a chance to express themselves musically.  And he reached that goal.  I was impressed that he found a way to help each person improve.  Some could not read music, some had no breath support (hey, that's me!), some had difficulties with finding and reproducing notes, etc. etc.  And sometimes Adan addressed those issues, but mainly he found a simple thing that, once recognized, made a world of difference.  By the time of the recital, the improvement was amazing, and the recital was great fun.

    You would think that, since this was a church-sponsored group, the music would be sacred. You would be wrong.  I had a chance to find my inner torch singer with Cry Me a River.  One of the younger singers gave a powerful rendition of Jekyll and Hyde's Confrontation (and I thus learned of another Wildhorn musical and spent much of today relearning Pimpernel songs.)  W sang a Disturbed version of Sounds of Silence, which was a revelation to me. There were several Disney songs, and songs from other musicals that I hadn't heard in years.  I learned about the Lumineers, via a moving version of Nobody Knows.  What it comes down to is that you don't need to be singing religious words or tunes to be making a joyful noise. Just as it is possible to pray by experiencing the beauty of nature, so it is possible to worship by the mere act of breathing in air and letting it back out in song. It's not as complicated as I make it out to be.

    I feel blessed to have reconnected with old favorite songs, to have become acquainted with new ones, and to have allied myself with a welcoming community.  At dinner after the recital (a dinner that was curtailed before it started by a blown transformer in the neighborhood), I learned a bit more about just how welcoming this community is.  One audience member joined us, and thanked us for our gift of music:  she is undergoing dialysis, and music is healing to her.  I thanked the group for letting me in, and they responded with a prayer circle of held hands and a wish that God bless my travels, and that I  keep in touch and return.  It reminded me of being held in the thoughts of my fellow Chamber Choir members at the Portland UU First Church, during post-rehearsal sharing time. And on the drive home, I sang in the car, making a joyful noise.

    Sunday, August 13, 2017

    Things to Do

    When I go to museums, I find myself taking pictures of small portions of the works, looking at brush strokes, colors and shapes.  I do this partly because there is no point in taking a picture of the entire piece:  I don't have the proper equipment or lighting to do that, and there are plenty of reproductions out there anyway.  So, I want to record what I noticed:  the folds of the dresses, the styles of the shoes, the movement of water, the jumping dog, the droplet of water on the perfectly rendered flower petal.  When I'm looking at modern art, it's all about the patterns and colors.  I don't record the actual artist or title or location, so I find myself fumbling when I post the pictures to Facebook and friends say "Turner?  Cezanne?" Because that's so beside the point, isn't it? Although, it is interesting when people recognize a painting or artist from a tiny bit: clearly I'm not the only person to absorb the details.

    I do wish I had the time and ability to sit and draw what I'm noticing, both in the museums and in the gardens and streets.  But, I'm blessed that technology allows me to process the photographs and share what I see. With time, I start finding patterns. Usually, the patterns are somewhat mundane. I have Facebook albums titled yellow and feet, for example.  Still, even these categories have led me to the realization that I am using these images as a form of meditation, of learning about myself and focusing my thoughts in the here and now.  I am drawn to images that have certain shapes and colors, yes, but I also am drawn to the hidden narrative, a narrative that I suspect only I am hearing.  After visiting the Octavia E Butler exhibit at the Huntington Library, I decided that I walk away with a manifesto of sorts, my own affirmations.  Only, instead of affirming that I will create something or succeed in various endeavors, I am affirming that the world is full of amazing things to experience.  I don't notice them every day, but it's good to try.  It is, in fact what slow travel and mindfulness are all about. 

    So, I made a tiny list of experiential affirmations, found images to illustrate them, and made my own motivational pictures.  I want to experience with all senses:  feeling, tasting, touching, smelling, hearing, and of course seeing.  I want to experience these things alone and in community.  I want each day to matter.  Herewith, my list:  soak in the tub, drink some tea, eat something amazing, smell the flowers, watch the sun set, have a drink, make music with friends, play a game, do a dance, take a stance, contemplate the heavens, aspire.











    Wednesday, August 9, 2017

    Pleased with myself

    "You are wearing your smug hat," she said to him.  He smiled, his face becoming like his hat.  I laughed, because it was true, the hat was smug, self-satisfied.  It resembled a narrow-brimmed dark straw pork pie hat, but came to more of a point in front, and it suited him perfectly.  We were in the upper balcony of the sports arena, waiting for The Cure to come in and blast out our eardrums in the loud echoing acoustics of the hall.  I wasn't a fan, barely knew the music, but he and she were very keen, and that made it fun.  Why, I wondered, isn't it just tedious to listen to them comparing previous song versions ad infinitum?  I think it was because they were truly happy, speaking their language without artifice or trying to prove anything. They were just enjoying themselves, purely, and that is contagious.

    I'm remembering that moment now, as I swim lazily back and forth in the rectangle of cool water.  I'm taking the day off from exploration, without guilt.  Yesterday I saw my cousins, as they were ending their 17-day trip and returning to London, tonight I'll be singing "Cry Me a River," as my part of the closing Vocal Forum concert, and tomorrow I'll be visiting LACMA and following it up with a backstage tour of the Wiltern Theatre. So for now, I'm just resting.  I can't rest on my bed, because the dogs won't let me:  they have been very clingy the last few days, perhaps because I've been gone for several hours a day, exploring the various museums in the area.  They paw at me, and lick my face, and chew on my shirt and whine. 

    They whimper and paw
    Till I get up and feed them.
    Please let me sleep now.

    So, I got up at 6:30 and fed them.  Then I had some coffee and cheesecake from yesterday's baking (yum), then took them for a walk.  And they were still unable to settle, so I went out to the pool.  It feels so peaceful, stroking back and forth as they sit in the shade and watched me.  I think about meditation, and sit on the little corner stepping ledge in the deep end of the pool,  The water is breast high.  My feet dangle, swaying in the water, and my arms float out from my shoulders as I take the first steps:  how do I feel physically and mentally?  what is my goal?  My mind is peaceful.  I can feel tendrils of cold water brushing around my fingers.  My body is weightless and, except for the changing temperature of the moving water, has no sensation of heat or cold.  I look into middle distance, vaguely seeing the darker blue shadows laid upon the bright blue of the pool tiles:  the sun is still in the east and the trees cast a shade in my corner. I am ready to meditate.

    The goal is to empty the mind, to focus on the breath.  As usual, I find myself bringing my thoughts back. over and over.  I'm not really thinking thoughts, as I had on the walk, when I was planning my day, thinking about my cousins' visit, singing to myself, and urging the dogs from stretching out, belly down in the damp grass. Instead, I am sensing. I am feeling the cool shifting water, which in turn is shifting my limbs, gently. I am watching the shadow rippling, and I am smelling the earth, damp from the morning sprinklers.  I push away from the ledge, sliding back into a swim, and notice my shadow swimming ahead and below me. the stroking arms clear dark blue outlines, dancing smoothly and cleanly away from the fuzzy wavering blur that is my torso and head.  The legs and feet are out of the range of my glance.

    I turn back and think some more.  I realize that I am not just feeling calm, or peaceful, or content.  I am feeling smug.  I am here, doing exactly what I want to do, exactly the way I want to do it. No one is watching the production, and I am responsible for nothing but the well-being of the fur babies and the house plants.

    Yes, I should be wearing a smug hat.

    Sunday, August 6, 2017

    So be it! See to it!

    I have never read Octavia E. Butler's books, although they have been on my list for quite some time. I have equated her with Ursula LeGuin, one who creates believable "alien" cultures, who is interested in the way gender influences behavior.  I love Ursula Le Guin.  So, why have I never read Octavia E. Butler's books?  I think it's because I also have equated Butler with didactic writers, who have a social or political axe to grind.  As in Refugia, the message is a bludgeon, and in dodging the weapon, one is dodging the entire literary experience.

    After going through the exhibit (Octavia E. Butler, Telling My Stories) at the Huntington Library, I realize that both assumptions are correct, but they are also so wrong.  In her own words, she is a storyteller, and that is her primary purpose.  The societal themes and rigorous science and research are just the underpinnings for that goal: 

    No Entertainment
    On Earth
    Can Match
    A Good Story
    Compellingly Told

    Octavia E. Butler's archives were bequeathed to the Huntington, probably because she was born and raised in nearby Pasadena, and this exhibit featured letters and journals that delineated her writing process as well as the times in which she lived.  I was intrigued to discover that she was awarded a MacArthur Foundation Genius Grant, which gave her the wherewithal to stop working odd jobs by day and writing only in the wee hours.  It was an unusual grant, as science fiction at that time was the red-headed step child of the literary world, and it is a further indication of Butler's stature as a writer. 

    People are complicated, their works even more so. Who would have thought that her juvenilia started with illustrated horse stories, followed by romances?  It reminded me of my artistic childhood friend, who loved all things equine and drew pictures of horses, to the exclusion of anything else, for years. It's such a little girl obsession.  It was the B movie Devil Girl from Mars that sent Butler off into science fiction, an unusual choice for a woman. Aged 12 when she saw the film, she was inspired by the cliched plotting and characterization to start writing her own science fiction stories. Yet, despite her conviction that she could write better SF stories than those currently available, she suffered from depression and writer's block; and even though one of her goals was to provide people of color with work that reflected their reality, her books were marketed with illustrations of white protagonists. 

    The exhibit was not large, just a small room off the hallway that led to the larger 3-room "Beautiful Science" exhibit, (which contained books, letters, and objects covering the history of astronomy, natural history,  medicine and anatomy, and electricity and light.)  Clearly, care had to be used in choosing which of a lifetime of  papers to display.  Knowing nothing about Octavia E. Butler, I cannot say whether the choices were apt or not, but they felt appropriate.  There were letters that movingly depicted her sense of isolation as the sole black writer at the Clarion Science Fiction workshop.  She writes equally strongly of her fear of writer's block and her desire to do worthwhile work in the world.  I felt akin to her, reading about her passion for meaning, for more than existence; "Ants exist."  Then there was the journal entry, grieving the destruction of the LA Library, likening it to the murder of a beloved human, then raging at herself for being "trite, trite, trite."  There were the highlighted notes that put together ideas and research.  And there were the written affirmations in her journals, each line a goal written in a strong present tense.  One showed up regularly, both clear and specific:  "All my books are Number 1 on the NYT Bestseller list for 2 months."  She was not shy about it.  But what really struck me (and the curator) is that each page of affirmations was finished up with the phrase "So be it! See to it!"

    I like that.  It is like Picard saying "Make it so."  There is clarity and strength of purpose.  You can trust that whoever receives that command will follow through, just on the strength of that incisive phrase. It's inspiring to find such focus in a non-fictional human, genius or not.  However, it's also inspiring, in an odd way, to read about self-doubt and struggles, both with writing and with plain daily living.  Somehow, watching another person struggle and succeed gives one the confidence that it is possible to be creative, in fact, that life in general is possible.  I think this is why an exhibit like the Octavia E. Butler exhibit is so compelling.  You see all the tricks and shifts, and the sheer undaunted spirit shines through.  We don't need to know the person to find personal journals and letters fascinating.

    That being said, I do wonder at the almost voyeuristic pleasure of this exhibit.  I wanted to see more, to sit in a Morris chair in the Shakespeare garden and read letters from Octavia, my new best friend.  Because these personal papers were sent of the authors' own free will, I didn't feel guilty reading them.  I felt that I had her permission, and that she would be glad that another storyteller might be inspired by her.  Stories are where it's at.

    Wednesday, August 2, 2017

    Daily texts and notes, August 2017

    8/1/17
    After yesterday's fabulous visit to the Huntington, I'm decompressing today and taking care of business, mine and my host's. I found the local market, Stater Bros, a privately owned SoCal discount chain. Temps reached 100, which is nothing compared to PDX, and now it's thundering. There's an alert for flash floods. 
    8/2/17
    After 3 hours' sleep
    I rise, swim, and make coffee.
    They watch, warily.
    To E:  finally got around to doing my nails.  One of those quiet days, with lightning in the future and singing tonight.  
    8/3/17
    They give away reproductions: on my visit it was Popova's The Traveler! Not my favorite, but so appropriate. I still can only catch glimpses of the woman in that painting. Cubism. Pah! 
    A lesser-known gem,
    Norton Simon museum
    Inspires creation.
    Ice cream, followed by
    A visit to the local
    Nomadic shelter.

    Pasadena Central Library
    To G:  You would really love these museums.  Today I'm at the Norton Simon, in Pasadena:  includes sculpture gardens and some amazing art.....Here's some Van Gogh to cheer you up.
    To E: this may have been my favorite sculpture in the gardens

    8/4/17
    Gutenberg bible. Old light bulbs, Octavia Butler journals, William Blake etchings, Shakespeare first folio...but the pix pick is won by the hummingbirds!

    Made it to the Huntington Library today!
    And revisited the mansion.  I think Tolkien was channeling William Blake when he did the tree on the gates of Moria.

    Old sketch of a Revolutionary War naval battle, and music that is set so people can sit around a table and read it.  Cool!

    I love Octavia Butler's affirmations:  So be it!  See to it!  Now I need to read her books...
    8/5/17
    Cookie wants his walk.  I'm sleepy
    And it's his fault for barking in the wee hours of the morning

    Sun 8/6/17
    So Sleepy I am for all intents and purposes nonfunctional and dizzy.  Fortunately, S's friend came by to take pix of the dogs.  So they got their walk with him.  I skipped church and the LACMA's free evening concert.  I did do some tutoring and wrote about the Octavia E. Butler exhibit at Huntington Library.  And did the LA Times crossword of course.
    I dozed through the day
    After my late morning swim,
    Then took a late walk

    Spent the day finishing some audio books and decorating my purse

    The finished product! Stayed up late doing this and waiting to tutor.
    8/7/17
    Business at the Santa Monica Pier:  fishing and measuring the wind

    To M:  I like your explanation for the lethargy (eclipses, cosmic changes), since I just spent 2 precious days in my jammies...well I did get dressed for the dog walk in the evening. This was at the Getty Villa, which was filled with sculpture and mosaics, but not much painting.  It does let me get the full impact of the hairstyles, tho!
    To V: At The Curious Palate in Santa Monica
    Marble walls, transformed.
    There's so much art to see here:
    Why study the walls?
    Smart parking garage:
    Each level's open spaces
    Are counted and marked.
    I don't believe it.
    No fire alarm makes a sound
    As cute as "whoop whoop!"
    8/8/17
    This is a clear day
    According to the locals.
    It's all perspective
    8 pm text: Just got home: long day driving to and from LA. Met EnRnV at the really crowded Griffith Observatory. I got to walk around it, waiting for them, but they decided it was too much for a baby. Then drove for some Korean food and talk. I dropped them at the airport and now I'm going to go swim. 
    8/9/17
    They whimper and paw
    Till I get up and feed them.
    Please can I sleep now?

    Recital over:  I sang Send in the Clowns and Cry Me a River (there's a theme here) and now we're going en masse to Buco di Beppo.

    After the concert
    We gather for drinks and food.
    A transformer blows.
    Thu August 10, 2017
    I won't be getting home until 11ish:  spent the afternoon at LACMA and in 2 hours I'll be doing a backstage tour of the Wiltshire Theatre.  But thought I'd best send my text now.
    An old-gold near-sphere,
    Low over the blue-white stream;
    I drive to the moon.

    Fri 8/11/17
    Spent the day making art and writing haiku.
    Why do terriers
    Cock their heads sideways before
    Leaping for the door?

    In transformation,
    Even the dullest of forms
    Holds magic within.

    I'm wearing out with all of this driving to Los Angeles and back!  So another day around the house. I did stop by the library to do some research for vicki:  it looks like a bunker.   I asked the Reference person about it and he said it was built in the 70s and in the 20 years he's worked there nobody has liked it.  At least it didn't smell of urine like the Albuquerque main library and the Pasadena central library:  The homeless contingent seems to be absent from Claremont.
    To MS: Here is your house! I'm leaving in 11 days so if there's anything else I need to explore let me know!  You can probably tell that I am still having a lovely time.  The vocal forum recital was fun and the members sound like they're going to miss me.  It's been a good way to connect.
    Have you eaten up all of the halibut?
    8/12/17
    Members only sunset walk at Huntington Gardens
    8/13/17
    Avocado Toast
    And the sound of a fountain.
    Sadly, a dog howls
    Said farewell to the folks at Good Shepherd: felt a bit teary.  The world is full of kind communities.  Important to remember in these parlous times.
    8/14/17
    "The dragonfly is
    Still on my car." He's convinced
    It's his grandfather
    To M: It's a structure that is sitting on the pond but it's made of cement so it doesn't make any waves. The first picture is from the side in the second picture goes down the center of the boat: The Waveless Boat
      To G:  even the parking lot is pretty
    • To E: At $350, a finial box, even finely turned, is not to be purchased.  But the snow globes are excellent!  Does Leah still collect?
    • To V: A lazy day at the garden.  Took the long way home, eschewing the freeways.  Nice drive.  Listened to audiobook..." Nostalgia for what's new. The French must have a word for that,". (From Lillian Boxfish takes a walk)
    8/15/17
    This historic site is near my house sit, so I took a look.  Padua Theatre used to be a community theatre featuring Mexican-themed musicals (who knew?!) but now it's a wedding venue. This is one of many lovely venues I've discovered!  I've been dizzy for 3 days:  probably because I'm staying up late and the dogs get me up early.
    I am pretending
    I have a right to sit here
    Admiring the view.
    8/16/17
    Guess where I went today?!Joshua Tree:  temps were in high 80's so totally doable. I was very sleepy though so I really shouldn't have been driving had to pull over a couple of times and had to stop for a nap at Malki Museum

    Like the Ayers Rock flies
    The bees at Keys Overlook
    Are ubiquitous.
    I pass the checkpoints
    And pull over for some naps.
    Why am I driving?

    They should name the park
    Joshua Tree Rocks! instead.
    The rocks truly do.
    8/17/17
    Those who share Gardens
    Are public benefactors.
    Just 3 dog walks left.
    Scat evidence showsCoyotes are dining well
    On tame prickly pears.
    Yesterday I saw
    A shiny green/ black fly caught
    In this nesty web.
    Skull with antlers?
    They like it when I stay home and potter.
    Last night:  crackerdogs.
    Today: absolutely sweet....
    Pending passersby.
    #echoingyaps #myheadhurts
    My laptop beckons,
    But the dogs have other thoughts.
    It's a progression.

    Spent 2 hours writing,
    Trying to parse this last week.
    Tina, I need cake.

    8/18/17
    A splendid comrade
    On my farewell appearance.
    She gives perspective.
    It's undrinkable
    But it makes a real statement:
    Drive by and don't drink.
    #drivebyshots #passenger #thankskarina
    8/19/17

    Penultimate day,
    Cuddling with moppets before
    Cleaning and packing.

    8/20/17
    Tricked into reading
    A novel about zombies.
    She did this to me.
    Text to M/G/V:  in Sacramento, en route to Petaluma.
    8/21/17
    The sun disappeared
    (Behind clouds) so we just drove
    And enjoyed the view



    Standing on the fault
    (Per the winery hostess)
    It just looked like rocks. 


    Enjoying a $5 treat while we wait for the road to open. (They were doing roadwork all along 101.  We were en route for 12 hours.)
    Good thing I don't like crab.
    (Ireland's Rustic Cottages, Gold Beach OR)
    8/22/17
    At Coquille Lighthouse
    We gather rocks but take few;
    Choosing remembrance
    We're stuck in traffic,
    An unhappiness of cars.
    We are the traffic.
    Made it to PDX.  Dining at MiHo
    8/23/17
    Memorial and discussion:  done! Emily and I visited Joni's unmarked grave in Vancouver: Evergreen Cemetery, then met Linda at Jake's.


    8/24/17
    Kissing a Salmon
    On Salmon Street, walking up
    To Mt. Tabor Park.
    To V: Bev and Allison and I walked up from Bev's house after yoga and lunch. 
    To M/G: All well:  socializing all day, perfect weather, getting ready to tutor.
    A sappy tree trunk,
    Today's trick transformation
    From yesterday's walk.
    my Simonster
    8/26
    They're tearing down my city!  Portland transformed...
    8/27

    Long lunch out in Yamhill County with some of my peeps.
    Goats to the left, hiding from the camera

    At Torii Mor, en route to lunch with the girls.  We were late.

    At Torii Mor, nice Pinot.  Wildfires hazing the horizon, no prob in PDX
    For my final night,
    A late dinner in Kenton.
    New but familiar.
    8/28
    At the family gathering.  D opted to go to choir instead
    Forest fire sunset:
    A red gold lining to a
    Smokey afternoon.
    8/29
    Snake River from the rest stop at the OR/ID border, got into Idaho 2 hours before sunset.   Bedding down at the Twin Falls Comfort Inn for the night.  Will have a longer drive tomorrow, but hopefully reach ABQ by 9 am without all the rest stop naps.
    At the Snake River
    Overlook on the border.
    Long drive tomorrow
    8/30
    8/31
    Spent the day fussing over arrangements that I thought I'd already made. Aaargh!
    Spent the day on errands.  My tailbone hurts after all that driving.
    3 states in 12 hours.Sunset skies welcome me home,
    But I'm unsettled.