Two Funnies From Sam

1. To his friend, Seamus, at the height of their absorbtion in Lego Etc. Land: "Let's say that if they're normal adults, they don't Get It. And if they're kids or super hero adults, they Get It."

2. To me at the campground, in puzzlement, while trying to clean up the fire pit for the next campfire: "Mom, there is just so much sand here. Do you have a vaccuum cleaner?"

Snapshots

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.

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.

Darn Near Perfect Day

Yep. Today was it.

Pushing the envelope: I developed a new skill (thank you so much, Jack, for teaching and patience yesterday) that involved tools. I started at 7:30 a.m. testing drip tape and hooking up an irrigation system in my backyard garden. I've never touched so much as a hammer if I could help it, having been married to a terribly handy man for sixteen years. Gloria Steinem, my apologies. But I do make a dem fine cornbread.

Thinking: Hmm. An exploration of confusion in which I did not get lost. Decided that in the presence of opposing truths, I can peacefully hold them all, but live only my own. Walking this truth with my feet to earth is a living acceptance of my current best understanding of me in the all. Humility itself.

Looking hot: complete raingear and carharts with a red silk scarf and Ketchikan sneakers (Alaska rubber boots). Redefining sex appeal. Seconded by dear friends stopping by.

Connecting: A lovely long phone call with a friend from high school days who lives only blocks away and sent pics email of the garden I helped her install this spring. She is full of excitement and gardening plans. Other friends called in or showed up for brief visits while I worked -- such a treat that these dear ones know how much I hate to leave home in the spring and shift their paths to include mine.

Parenting: A loose definition. More enjoying than actual supervision. A twelve and seven year old from up the street joined us for the whole day. At lunch we took turns making strange noises and teaching each other how. A message from the nextdoor neighbor that Chicken Pox have arrived in the 'hood. Total mayhem reigned indoors while I continued with focus out of doors. The Cherry Poppin' Daddies blared (I checked in with the other kids' mom about her comfort with "inappropriate" lyrics), oranges were peeled, squeals of laughter echoed through the house, and when I finally came in, I found all four sitting quietly at the kitchen table with a live mouse in a clear plastic piggie bank dropping oats through the penny slot. "Wait! Let me get my skateboard!" called Sam.

And blessed focus: A whole day (minus 2 hours for lunch, prep, and clean up) gifted me to walk the line looking for leaks, blister my thumb and forefinger pressing in plastic parts, laugh hysterically at my own forgetfulness and everything else I could think of, look to the clouds measuring so many hours passed, and to be grateful, so very very grateful, for the fully perfect life I lead.

What I Was Afraid to Tell

So I read the Solvay book's treatise (OG gardening on Martha's Vineyard) about the benefits of urine as a fertilizer in the garden. Human urine, amongst others. The author points out, quite rationally, that we are simply dispatching with one of our greatest natural resources while using loads of energy to do so. I thought about that.

Being a garden addict, I have found myself more and more reluctant to go inside to pee. So now I eat, sleep and even pee in the garden. During the winter, it's a challenge to find a green screen. But now, spring is here, and the raspberry canes are three feet tall. Which is not quite tall enough. Hence, when I crouched next to them in a hidden pathway corner, I thought to myself that they themselves, could use the fertilizer.

I hid a blue bucket in the corner of my "sanctuary" garden and began to collect a sample for my own pilot program. I didn't tell anyone. Not even Seda. Frankly, I thought it was rather over the top and expected that my neighbors might really wonder (as in, "Yes! I fertilize with my own urine -- would you care for a salad with lunch?").

I shared the news very quietly by phone to my best girlfriend in town. She's known to be conservative on many points. "You're whispering this because you don't want your boys going around the garden, peeing randomly?" she asked.

"Oh no. I encourage that. I guess I don't want them to know about it so they won't put it into any new-fangled 'potion' that they offer as samples to the neighborhood."

She laughed. And I realized that I worried about both telling and not telling the kids about what I was up to.

Then, this morning, the universe gave me another gentle nudge. I overheard the boys talking about the younger's "job" to make a habitat for the latex frog they were having trouble sharing. Younger brother went outside and got busy. I sighed with relief and kept gardening; another conflict resolved without intervention.

Then I came around the corner and saw my blue bucket with stones and branches carefully arranged in the existing "pond."

I had some explaining to do.

Big Help

Yesterday, my three-year-old friend from across the street came over to help me mulch my garden. She wielded my digging fork while I tossed leaves into the barrow with a pitch fork.

"Wow!" I marveled. "Your body has to work about 5 times as hard as mine to get the same amount done. Is it hard for you?"

"No," she said with a shy smile. "I am a big help to my momma all the time."

"Are you?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "I keep my fingers out of my nose."

"Really?" I failed to suppress a smile. "And that helps?"

"When we make cookies," she said.