A collage snapshot of some sweet memories from our trip south:
In California one evening, Trinidad presented me with six live toads, three in each hand. He then invented a game called "Toad Race," in which all toads are set free then recaught by one person before they escape into the brush. I cannot tell you how much fun we all thought this was.
In California one evening, Trinidad presented me with six live toads, three in each hand. He then invented a game called "Toad Race," in which all toads are set free then recaught by one person before they escape into the brush. I cannot tell you how much fun we all thought this was.
Driving with my sister as a passenger, I watched her reach over and pick up a delicate piece of driftwood from the little altar on my dashboard. I looked at her sideways. "You're not going to--"
But she had already stuck it up her nose. "I knew you were going to do that," I said.
"Oh. Well, it's not like you're psychic or something. I mean, you or I or Mom would all do the same thing. It's just what we do," she said.
My mother says that there's proof the donkey is from Mexico: she likes Tequila. What proof?
My sister is into Kundalini yoga now. She lead me in a yoga session on the lavender field. At the end of 40 minutes of breathing hard and heavily distracting the neighbors, we laid down for the deep relaxation.
We were in a field. Picturesque. Quiet, but not still. As we stopped moving, it became clearer what did not. Bugs of all nature ... all over us. Deep relaxation with bugs. (Another test.)
Did I tell you that my sister turns heads? Particularly if she's been singing and playing in a local bar recently. Her soulful voice and finger picking is quite lovely. She sports a presence large, confident and sweetly coquetteish. That fair to say, Rob? :) I am amused by my own invisibility beside her. I get to glimpse a shyly secret side of folks as they sidle up to make conversation, get an autograph, compliment the master. She's a star in vintage dress and memorable shoes.
I regret not mentioning in my last blog post that the sweet interconnection of my trip to Mother's farm was due as much to the personal work and growth that my Mom and sister have embarked upon as it is to my own. Witnessing their respective journeys is a gift I am in awe to receive.
But she had already stuck it up her nose. "I knew you were going to do that," I said.
"Oh. Well, it's not like you're psychic or something. I mean, you or I or Mom would all do the same thing. It's just what we do," she said.
My mother says that there's proof the donkey is from Mexico: she likes Tequila. What proof?
My sister is into Kundalini yoga now. She lead me in a yoga session on the lavender field. At the end of 40 minutes of breathing hard and heavily distracting the neighbors, we laid down for the deep relaxation.
We were in a field. Picturesque. Quiet, but not still. As we stopped moving, it became clearer what did not. Bugs of all nature ... all over us. Deep relaxation with bugs. (Another test.)
Did I tell you that my sister turns heads? Particularly if she's been singing and playing in a local bar recently. Her soulful voice and finger picking is quite lovely. She sports a presence large, confident and sweetly coquetteish. That fair to say, Rob? :) I am amused by my own invisibility beside her. I get to glimpse a shyly secret side of folks as they sidle up to make conversation, get an autograph, compliment the master. She's a star in vintage dress and memorable shoes.
I regret not mentioning in my last blog post that the sweet interconnection of my trip to Mother's farm was due as much to the personal work and growth that my Mom and sister have embarked upon as it is to my own. Witnessing their respective journeys is a gift I am in awe to receive.
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