Luz

Small Town Living

I got my mom's tiny nail scissors, dulled by years of 'schnibbling' away at my furry companions, sharpened at the farmers market, finally. Told the guy too that he had pissed me off when he payed too much attention to his apprentice and none to me, not once, but trice about 3 years ago! He apologized and I shared some of my freshly gathered apricots with him before we parted with smiles.

Apricots are in season and are dropping off trees on to public streets where it is legal to gather them. So far I collected three big bowls full, but darn it takes a lot to fill one jar with compote.  I still lack enough for freezing, much less to pass on to the nearby shelter. I have had apricots for breakfast, lunch and dinner, almost, everyday of late. In Switzerland we eat big platters of fruit pie on meatless Fridays. Here is how I make my kind of Aprikosen Waehe:  

I cup of organic spelt flour, maybe half and half with organic whole wheat flour enhanced with some sesame seed and wheat germ. 

Mix to a dough with a bit of water, braggs and sesame oil (careful of too much kneading.) 

Press in to a pie form, oiled also with a bit of sesame oil, so much better tasting then olive oil and a lot healthier then butter. 

Cover with almond pieces or more traditional hazelnut meal.

Place in heated (toaster-) oven for about 10 minutes.

Decorate pie with halved apricots, squeezing in as many as possible.

Place back in to oven for another 10 minutes.

Pour one egg sweetened maybe with sugar, or tangerine juice, added lemon juice, maybe vanilla and/or cinnamon, including a tablespoon full of yogurt or rice milk - or not.

Place back in to oven for another 10 minutes.

Voila, Aprikosen Waehe ready to eat in an easy half hour!

I love living in a small town where the fruit falls down on streets, ripe for the picking, where the conductor will wave at us from a passing train and where the security guy will stop to check in on how things are and will share the latest news, some relevant to the 'hood, but some more personal. I have not yet dared to ask about Sam's teeth, he had them before, but no more.

The Face of Patriotism

 

sweet,

simple minded,

 slightly silly

delightful in small dosages.

Jim

 

Jim can whistle 

and yodel.

In One Morning Only

Out on bike with Sumo in my bright butterfly dress, one guy took a shot and called me "beauty" (rare for me) and another smiled and recalled aloud O'Keeffe (did I look to him like an open flower, lol?) 

Outside Trader Joe's (the American version of the German Aldi) I hitched my bike to the same post, at the same time as an 84 year old cyclist (he revealed his age to me upon my prodding) but he tied his bike with a string and said he could not afford to shop at Trader Joe's. He said he had to resort to the dollar store, but not for food I exclaimed. 

I had just splurged on another Orchid I should not afford. The sprite old man told me he could not afford to get impatient as he painstakingly worked to untie the knot he had made in his string earlier. So busy, he offered me a story. With glee the skinny, a bit frail looking, little man told me how he gave a dollar to a person that had asked him for money - only to find a dollar just steps away. He promised more stories the next time we meet.

One sweet, smiling older lady in lace filled a little basket with apricots picked off the side walk. She planed to simmer them down with a bit of liquor and to pour them over her ice cream. So inspired I filled a poop bag with apricots found at our favorite park, further away from traffic. I plan to bake them in to a pie of sorts ('Aprikosen Waehe' - what the devout Swiss Christians eat on meat-free Fridays.) The first few fruits though were devoured happily by my pups. 

In the park with both of my pups, we came upon one Native American splattered out on the grass, limbs in all directions, face down, a nice bike with even a nicer crate and belongings scattered in the already hot sun. I was relieved to note slight movement of his ribcage. To intervene or not? I tried to walk on, but could not. I asked the man if he was alright. He nodded yes. Not too hot? No. The man started to stir. Then explained that a thirty-something old man had offered him a drink. He had fallen unconscious and had gotten cold during the night. He had moved in to the sun to warm up. I picked up his bike, gathered his belongings (a nice pair of earrings, he might likely be an artisan from one of our surrounding pueblos in town to sell his art.) I wished him well. He thanked me, offered me the earrings and got up on his feet, as I already had walked on down the path. Oddly my pups never barked at this somewhat strange body on the ground, I like to assume because they knew him to be good.

The morning not yet over, I brought my Isabella-girl, my first canine companion, a rescue dog, my source of too much worry and anxiety for a consultation to a Pet Intuitive right across the street. A luscious, laughing, big bosomed lady assured me that Isabella was just fine, not at all grossly overweight like my Buddy Ed tried to impress on me last night at the dog park. "You are killing her" he had told me! Both advocated to feed my pups separately for a while at least. I promise I will.

Sweet 15

At the outside of a Sweet 15 coming out party 

held inside our Farmers Market building.

Is this the version of femaleness these teens are to emulate?

Last minute rehearsal before the performance inside.

Ah, those raging hormones, the drama of being young.

 Such loveliness

I wonder what will become of them?

 Will they get the support to become the powerful women

they have the potential to become?

The kind of women that will not need to conform,

but will be empowered to make their own choices,

(not hormone driven.)

As regards partnership,

 will they chose based on shared values,

rather then short term attraction?

As regards motherhood, 

will they be free to have kids, or not?

Will they make use of birth control?

As regards religion,

will they be allowed to believe or not,

will they truly own their own bodies?

As regards careers,

will they pursue an education, or not?

Will they have a choice to stay home or not?

Will they have partners that will want to share 

in the work at home

in the raising of the kids?

I hope this little girl

will know her own loveliness

and will have the options

to create a life of her own choosing.

Individuation is a long, arduous and ongoing process.

 This image off Interesting Factsss on fb
explains what was on my mind better then any words.

Right Of Way Denied

I took Sumo along on an errand on bike early this Sunday morning, while traffic would be still light and the air still cool. At the crossing we stopped, I pushed the buttons  and waited for the lights to turn green for us and then attempted to walk across. But this being the community we live in, the one driver to share the road with us chose to speed up during his left turn and to deny us our right of way!

My first reaction was fear for Sumo as my little Yorkie/Poodle/Maltese has a tendency to veer off and take up inordinate space, be it on the road or in bed. But my well behaved little guy was exactly where he was supposed to be, on heel, unharmed, relief.

A variation of this happens all too often and of late I tend to get infuriated way too often. For 18 months now I have been a pedestrian or bicyclist while my van stayed parked at home. I wore my bright, colorful summer dress, I really was not that easy to overlook. I had only a few more seconds left for crossing on green (another peril when cars from the opposite direction want to make their right turn before their light turns.) So when I watched that driver pull in to the parking lot,  I rushed after him, my stomach in knots, to give him a piece of my mind. The driver, an older, gaunt and a bit scruffy looking man emerged from his vehicle, came  toward me, his eyes red and in tears - he apologized! He stunned me when he said he came to apologize. I told him that he scared me and I pointed to my dog. Now both of us in tears we stood outside Trader Joe's as he promised me to pay more attention!

We are all in this together, we share and sometimes collide in time and space, please pay attention, especially when on the road and in particular when behind the wheels of a potential deadly weapon. I know lack of attention from myself when lost in day dreaming or when I am preoccupied. I have made mistakes as well, took an easy illegal turn, tried to get ahead of someone a bit or a lot slower, I have attempted shortcuts. Please remember that we are all in this together and pay the attention  that we, our kids and our pets deserve!

Sadly a woman on bike downtown was hit by a female driver and hospitalized with critical injuries only yesterday, June 27th. Alcohol did not play a role for once we were told.

Lust For Luscious Intensity

Lusting for luxurious, luscious intensity
during another parched (relatively) bare, 

over-heated season in the high desert.

Thumbs Up

Looking after our 'hood, the Santa Fe Railyard, this man, a single dad, only recently saved the life of a man who had ingested hand sanitizer. That man ended up hospitalized for about two weeks. Our law enforcement officer expressed to me that the social problems he would  encounter while on duty would tear at his heart. An eighteen year old girl "still a baby" he said, cussed him out and wished him dead when he had responded to a concern about a naked woman in the back of our teen center. He suspected 'the baby' was on bath salts. On another day recently he had come upon a woman, drunk, in the brutal hot sun, unable to move. Badly beaten, she had suffered bruised ribs. His own son did not want to go to summer school, because the bathrooms for the use of those still very young kids had awful graffiti.  Our officer expressed to me a wish for more of a focus on social issues and less on war mongering.

Thumbs up to those that enforce the law with compassion.

A Virgo's Worst Nightmare

Dirty

Darn, this cat likes to roll in dirt, 

I guess to mask his scent for better chances in his hunt. 

I am afraid he likes birds and their eggs,

I don't mind my cat keeping the mice on their toes. 

Of late he has no inclination of coming home for the night.

I fear that these bites, 

are not love bites and are not signs of affection,

 despite the fact that they were sustained 

while the planet Venus crossed our Sun.

My pretty kitty seems unconcerned.

The other night, 1:30 a.m., I woke to high pitched screeches,

my cat again in an altercation with yet another opponent,

so uncivilized!

A Poignant Moment

Last week as I walked back from the park, along an alley behind the Farmers Market, I noticed a lanky, pimply faced kid huddled in a corner as he held a burning cigarette between stubby, raw, red fingers. Why, I have wondered so many times before, so I asked. His response was "I am addicted." In turn I responded that I did not buy it, he was too young to suffer from a true addiction. As I followed his eyes, I noticed the little, old woman beside him, also holding a burning cigarette. "It's in the family" he said, "I started at age 12." I kept on probing, truly trying to understand. "Why, are you rebelling?" "No." "Have you gotten the information on what the smoke does to your lungs, have you seen the images?" He answered by saying that he knew it was a "filthy habit."

I then shared about my own experience. 14 years old I had started to steal cigarettes from my Dad, a non-smoker, that he kept in a drawer. They were those cute, small, trial-sized packages of Camels or Marlboro. Ah, their advertisement sure worked on me then. Get them early and get them good, very effective. I was troubled and I rebelled, no doubt. Soon I would sneak out of our school to smoke in a nearby doorway with another outcast of sorts from my class, a sensitive, but also clearly troubled gay kid.

One day an Austrian yoga teacher got the better of me as he instructed me in asanas. He would exclaime about the sorry state of my body, unable to bend this way or that (it may have been a failed attempt of his to win me over as a student,) Well, I had my last cigarette before those instructions. It had not been an actual decision, my frontal lobes had very little to do with what unfolded. I had simply lost my desire to smoke and then supported this change of attitude with right, rather then 'stinking thinking' (as 12-steppers like to call it.) I gave myself good reasons why not to smoke.

If I remember right in those 5 years of smoking I had worked myself up to at least half a pack a day by the age of 19. Smoking in Switzerland was very common. As teens we frequented coffeehouses thick with smoke. Arriving, unsure, trying to look cool, out would come a cigarette. For a while I had been in to those long sweet and dark ones and later it was super cool to roll my own from Drum tobacco, still around these days. But all of this gone in one moment, after one person made some critical comments. I was very, very lucky.

Back to the kid with what I assume was his grandma, I assured them that I did not mean to judge or lecture them, that I truly had been curious and hoped they had not minded my asking. The kid, now here comes the kicker, said "no, it's o.k., most adults when they see me smoke actually look away." He welcomed my concern! I placed my hand on my heart and bowed ever so lightly and wished them well as I walked on, moved in a profound and startling way.

Conundrum

I reject the two party system as neither party seems to speak for me and both are rather infuriating. But primaries are for Democrats and Republicans only. That is how the game is played now, no wishful thinking will change that. So we Independents are left in the cold, or do we feel the heat? In any case our progressive Mayor lost his bid to the House of Representatives by a few measly votes, less then 200. With a few of us Occupy rebels at the polls we might have had a Progressive fill the empty seat in the House of Representatives, a most important place vacated by the Speaker of the House. Darn, I feel conflicted about this. I want to believe in Democracy, although the Super Pac monies make it a challenge, make it seem more like buying votes, flooding the people with slanted, sometimes blatantly wrong sound bites. Anyone that claims that votes can not be bought does not know the power of suggestion, the subconscious mind and the mind numbing effect of repetition.

But I do want to believe in democracy and so I did sign up to 'wo-man' a polling station, a first for me. Waking at 4 a.m. to be on time at the place of voting was doable. Staying put until dark to accommodate a trickle of voters for 12 hours was manageable as well. Our polling machine took a total of only 288 votes during that whole day. And that was more then some of the other precincts could claim. 5 poll workers at one station for 14 hours cost the state a miserly $700. The cost of a very expensive voting machine, it's maintenance, all the paper, the printing, all the organization, think of it all for - 288 votes! Almost as many voters did not show. We destroyed about 250 unused ballots. One single vote comes at an outrageously high expense to the government and in turn the people.

I was welcoming and impartial to all voters and did my best at not expressing any political or personal opinions. Not even when our former Mayor, our very first Hispanic and female Mayor showed up, the one that garnered a lot of controversy over her tenure, but I never regretted having given her my very first vote as a newly US citizen, back 20 years ago.

So I applauded everyone for voting and congratulated them and made absolutely sure that their vote got counted properly by the machine, - while all along I was not able to place my own vote. 20 years ago I had signed up as a Democrat and I had tried to vote for Clinton, but in the newness of my experience, my first vote as an American Citizen, I had fucked up and had made a mistake. At that time voting by machine, corrections were not possible. But these days paper votes are fed to the machine and mistakes can be corrected and were, although only a few times at our station. Luckily Clinton did not need my vote to win the presidency then. While he made some serious mistakes like Nafta and the bombing of civilians, and dumber ones such as Monica Lewinsky, I still respect the man and his mind, no one is perfect.

My conundrum is that I do not wish to belong to either of the dominant parties, but neither do I wish to dis-empower myself and exclude myself from the ability to place my votes. Voting is not only our right, but also our duty. Not voting seems immature, but then always voting for the lesser evil seems simply wrong too.

At first I signed up as a Democrat, then switched to the Green Party and when that party got emasculated in a for once joined effort of Democrats and Republicans, I wondered before and after Obama's election if I should switch back and join the Democrats once again. But now after 3 years of Obama, when Guantanamo is still not closed, when indefinite detention is still practiced, when Osama got killed, rather then brought to justice, when drone attacks have become the norm, along with the killing of civilians, not joining the Democrats is my means of saying no, I do not accept, I object!

So we have all those voters that do not show up, simply ignore the hoopla, and refuse to participate. And the hoopla is obscene, the pac monies outrageous, the allegations absurd, the lies blatant, the waste of time and resources mind boggling. I detest what we have to look forward to until November when we have to chose between the outgoing guard of the Patriarchy, Romney who will be all too happy to lay the pipe lines, desecrate and rape our earth in the name of oil and money (and neither for the American people, as the oil tends to be sold elsewhere and we know how it goes with money.) Cronyism is alive and well, no doubt. On the other side we have Obama who shattered our hopes for real change and made cynics and non-believers of too many. I am afraid many will simply ignore politics altogether and will simply not show up when it comes time to vote.

I will vote for Obama as an Independent (not one that does not dare to declare an allegiance, as the state labeled us Independents during the Primaries) God-dess willing, but with no joy in my heart and no hope, but only a desire to avoid worse.

Magic Love Bus

 Here today

 at the Farmers Market,

in Santa Fe,

the City Different,

in The Land of Enchantment.

 We recognized each other from 30 years ago.

the Chatanooga Cafe

on the Haight

in San Francisco

 Occupy had become too divisive

she said.

 So they took their message 

of peace and love

on the road.

What an awesome home

 and performance platform!

The Magic Love Bus,

here today

and gone tomorrow.

Eerie

Eerie light during the Solar Eclipse.

5.20.12

Peace Walk

 A non-denominational, non-political peace walk

 very well attended,

not in small part I imagine

due to announcement by our local public radio.

 I so appreciate our progressive, multi-cultural community.

 Lovely Ladies Walk for Peace.

 And cute kids walk too.

 Rasta, the little rescue enjoyed the walk especially.

 I so appreciate the Work of Amnesty International.

Michael is about to enter the Cathedral 

wishing Peace to Islam and the World.

 NO WAR ON IRAN!

The resolution passed the City Council unanimously, hooray,

thanks to these dedicated folks.

Photo by Lyric Kalie

Christmas In May!

My universe thinks it is Christmas! I just brought home a glass vase filled with fresh, deep red roses found abandoned at a nearby parking lot (a suitor's unwelcome advances?) Unthinkable to discard such beauty. Within these last 24 hours, I was gifted, out of the blue, with a neighbor's somewhat bulky treasures he desperately wanted to re-home so as to create space for his new acquisitions. He brought me an almost new single black futon base with a white cotton futon, down duvet with two matching sheets and  pillow covers, all in very good condition. This bedding had not been used in 10 years and only rarely before by occasional yoga students of his that would stay over for an intensive.

Furthermore, I became the happy recipient of a Le Creuset Dutch Oven (or melting pot) those red enamel, heavy kinda pots from which my dear European friend would produce the most delicious casseroles. Gratins made from potatoes and fennel smothered in a rich sauce of cream, cheese, and likely white wine. I have wondered for a while about coming up with a heart healthier version of the above. Now I have no more excuses with my almost new, only lightly used Creuset. The experimenting will have to begin. I had been entertaining the idea of cooking another whole chicken like I did for the Occupiers last winter, it was such a hit with them and so much fun for me - and my pups. Mind you, I have been a vegetarian cook ever since I left my parent's home as a teen,  since decades. While I have been eating occasional white meat I avoided having to look at, touch, or mess with raw meat. That was until I brought my first dog, my Isabella-girl home. Dogs are not vegetarian, I got a bit more used to the idea, the looks and the smells and the handling of meat since. Gifted with two more fairly large, high-quality pans for grilling or baking fish or meat may mean I will have to invite company to help polish of such quantities of food, although my pups are doing a pretty good job by themselves.

Last, but not least an earthen ware carafe now graces my outdoor living room area. There always seems to be a shortage of water containers so this is a welcome addition to my household utensils.




Now with so much goodness coming my way, I wonder if I should consider this man that called to inquire about my VW van a good omen? He inquired if I might have an interest in selling my beloved "Schneggehuus". Of course, he has no idea how attached I am to the darn thing, the money guzzling contraption that has served me as a second, to boot mobile home for extended periods at a time. There isn't a more comfortable vehicle to travel in then a VW vanagon, except maybe an RV. But the van is nimble has a great turning ratio, good traction, can get up in speed and will make life easy and enjoyable on any road. 

If I sell, I am afraid I will never ever drive again. I will not be able to afford another vehicle, most certainly not another VW vanagon. But I really can not afford the fixing, much less the maintenance of that monster. Not even 3000 miles on the new/old engine after 3 attempts  of replacement were followed by two explosions for no discernible reasons. The mechanic's estimate was $800, no doubt the costs would have run higher than, 1 1/2 years ago, but most certainly now. Well, I will sit with it a bit longer, contemplate all my options while I try to entertain the idea that no matter the decision, I will be o.k. since my universe believes in Christmas during the month of May.

2 days later all items found a new spot, but in the process I discovered that the bottom drawer of my stove can actually be pulled out. This had never ever occurred to me. So what I found must have been a quarter century old dust balls! I am comforted by the knowledge that my German mother had a very similar experience when moving out of a home she had occupied for 40 years. She too discovered places she did not know existed and this despite her germanic love of cleanliness. The roses still look pretty, except for the center one that I brought to the memorial of one of our community leaders.

May Day Santa Fe Style

Occupy Santa Fe organized an event at our Railyard park for noon on May 1. followed by a General Assembly beginning at 2 p.m. May 1. a day without the 99%, a day of no work, no shopping, no school, no banking and no chores. Bring your family, friends, bring a picnic or share in food offered at this community building event.

Tania, our dedicated activist, rehabilitation facilitator and mother of a computer wiz kid had gotten there a bit early, all organized and ready for a serious picnic that included cheese and meat, with a brand new role of paper towels in easy reach. Later she would be facilitating the General Assembly seated in one of those little chairs. The woman brings such grace and enthusiasm to our community of activists.

 Occupy The Moment

Santa Fe, The City Different, in The Land of Enchantment, home of various mediation groups that have attempted to raise our awareness toward oneness and away from duality, which includes the 99% versus 1%, with some calling on the 100%. Mats invited folks to join in a meditative approach to activism.

NO WAR ON IRAN

During Occupy Santa Fe General Assembly our civil rights lawyer shared on one working group's initiative to urge our City Council with petitions and presentations to pledge a stance against a war in Iran. The raised hands signal support and agreement from GA participants.

NO WAR

WeArePeopleHere! has endorsed the Tuesday May 1 People's General Strike. We encourage you to join the strike in protest against a government and an economy that unjustly favors the super wealthy and big business at the expense of the American people. We are joining the strike to build solidarity for a national movement against the corruption of the worldwide marketplace, which has led to illegal foreclosures, mass unemployment, low wages and government policies that support the plutocracy.

 Passionate Performer

Captivated Audience

Cuddle Companions

Cop

Blessed with smiling cops, 

Occupy Santa Fe has enjoyed leniency from our public servants.

Only one cop checked in on our May Day event.

The day passed without any incident.

No violence.

Non-Violent Training 

for free

was on the agenda the very next day. 

unify

clarify

intensify

simplify

amplify

fortify

magnify

identify

beautify

sanctify

occupy

(Tania's T-Shirt)

Guitar Player In Disguise

 Jim had stopped playing the fiddle 

only 11 years old.

 His interest in the fiddle got renewed only recently.

Now he cherishes a change from playing the guitar.

I cherish anyone eager to learn and to better themselves,

and able to surprise us,

especially at a certain age.

I consider Jim Santa Fe's best street musician

with the soul of a true artist.