Life of Wry

The destruction from this tsunami is just mind-boggling.

This is a photo of my computer screen, of a video shot and uploaded to Facebook by a guy who’s in Japan, standing on the landing of a building surrounded by raging, rising water.  There. Coverage of the tsunami is NOT brought to you by any commercial sponsor.  It’s just like there–video shot by that guy.  The whole thing becomes a far more raw and human experience, and the tragedy more knowable.  I just can’t imagine it.  But this guy’s in the moment video helps in a big way.

Another thing about news distributed through social media… it becomes such a shared experience.  As people witness and share and respond and converse, there is this sense of collective shock and collective grief.  It’s pretty interesting to be readily in touch with so many others who are learning about and processing the information right along with you, which makes it all the more real and personal.  Nevermind that news travels faster and is less edited.

Anyway..it’s all pretty amazing.

I heard a statistic this morning about the deaths in just one part of the affected area–the toll was estimated at over 10,000… TEN THOUSAND.  And that’s just from earthquake and tsunami damage–collapsing buildings and unrelenting water.  No way to know yet the impact of the damage to nuclear power plants and the effects of radiation, both short term and long term.

So sad.

We can keep the people of Japan in our thoughts and not forget that there are now a whole lot of people whose lives will never, ever be the same.  They are not going about their daily lives like they were a few days ago, not like us, whose lives are not affected at all.  We can remember that.  It’s also good to remember how delicate and fragile it all is.

And then there’s Haiti, and Katrina, and of course others.

So, hold people in your thoughts.  I guess that’s what we can do.  Help as needed.  And be grateful.  We’re ridiculously lucky.

Anyway, sorry.  Not a lecture.  Speaking for myself.  Just trying to get my thoughts around it all.

Between springing forward and an early baseball tournament, there is no time for breakfast (or blogging).  Instead, Starbucks to go.

And a little Camice pear.

A certain little league ball player, who shall remain headless, won the Homerun Derby at Opening Day today.

That’s all I’m allowed to say about that.

I mean really, it’s not enough that you’re on a country road and not likely to run into too, too many tractors… they (good old they) have gone and built a nice, protected bike trail just because, and this is what it looks like.  So a person can jump on a bike path that parallels Russell Boulevard, exactly one block from my house, I might add, and ride like there’s no tomorrow straight out of town, hitting farm fields within minutes, and, well, how nice is that?

Just so you know, the ride out to Three Palms Nursery is a straight-shot, 30-minute ride (and back gives you that perfect hour of aerobic bliss), and, I swear to god, it’s almost all on a road that looks like this.

Now, if only I were one of Davis’ bazillion real bike riders, and not just a hacker rider on an old jalopy (I love my very serviceable jalopy bike.. which.. isn’t really a jalopy, it’s a fully official, around town kind of bike with comfortable fat tires and a wide, upright profile, and suits me just fine.  Plus, it’s dark teal, which is a very pretty bike color.).  If I were a real cyclist, I’d wear colorful, form fitting, task appropriate clothing, have a bike designed for mileage, and make the trip in probably half the time.

We’ll see.. after I’ve done this ride a couple more times.

Here are a few more pictures, drive-bys one and all (man, I’m loving my phone camera):

Looking down.

The left turn to the Unitarian Church (smiling at that lack of irony).

Cactus Corner, of course.

Glide Ranch and Community Alliance with Family Farmers (CAFF).

Three Palms Nursery, at Road 95A.

And back.

I and my walking buddy were mystified when we came upon this incredibly unique magnolia petal this morning (the one on the left).  What an amazing specimen, we thought. We compared the quilted, bi-colored petal to others we found lying at the base of the tree (see above), and tried to figure out how on earth it came out like that. Kept us entertained for more than a few minutes. Mother Nature works in mysterious and beautiful ways, we concluded.

I carefully carried my little treasure home and upon showing it to Jim, he said, casually, “nice shoe print.”   And I was all, oh… right, of course. Treads. Someone just stepped on that delicate, floral fleshiness and left a sole-ful bruise.

My husband: the original mythbuster.

So.. mystery solved.  Oh well.

Still, it was a day for gorgeous patterns.  Here’s the sky at the beginning of our walk.

Nobody stepped on IT!

Imagine me and you, I do.

I think about you day and night, it’s only right.

To think about the girl you love, and hold her tight.

So happy together.

You know.  Having been raised on music of the 60s, I can’t pass a turtle and not think about this song.

So, anyway.

Walked up to take a picture of these nice turtles…

and then this happened…

Not so happy together anymore, huh?

Now, THAT’S what I’m talkin’ about…

Spring, with its messy, cluttered, perky posies–spilling out, spilling onto and spilling over everything.   I totally love a flower with an outside-the-lines kinda attitude, don’t you?  This luscious, if disobedient, bit of Sour Grass was found in the lovely Old North Davis neighborhood, at about 7th and E…a perfect place to walk if you’re looking for sweet signs of unbound urban springness.

Had to look up Sour Grass to see what, exactly, it is, and found this, from Wikipedia:

 

Scientific classification
Kingdom:	Plantae
Division:	Magnoliophyta
Class:	Magnoliopsida
Order:	Oxalidales
Family:	Oxalidaceae
Genus:	Oxalis
Species:	O. pes-caprae
Binomial name
Oxalis pes-caprae

This was my drink at lunch today.  Half carrot and half orange.  Decided to take a picture of it because it was so.. delectable and awesome.  In searching for meaning in this photo, because that’s what I do–take pictures of things, then think of something to say about them–I came up with this: it’s about choices.

So I thought about a few….

A California BLT or an L Street Salad, hold the dressing.

Starting a new novel or starting a new crossword.

Wanting what’s easy or working at what’s hard.

Wanting what’s good or wanting what’s best.

Going to Nepal or being a baseball mom.

Taking the risk or doing what’s familiar.

Doing it all or saying it’s good enough.

Letting it go or standing on principle.

Being impulsive or being thoughtful.

Getting a kitten or keeping a friend.

Staying up late or getting up early.

Getting it done or getting it right.

Moving on or never forgetting.

Facebook or Twitter.

Long nails or short.

Contacts or glasses.

Mishka’s or Peet’s.

Sunscreen or hat.

Music or silence.

Basket or bowl.

Flannel or silk.

Strong or thin.

Walk or drive.

Red or white.

Email or call.

Text or call.

PG or R.

Sometimes the choice is clear. Sometimes there is no choice.  Sometimes combining them makes a nice drink.

I wrote the below a while back sitting in Mishka’s, between meet ups.   From the self-absorbed file.   It was written on a day very much like today… wet, stormy… so am pasting it here, to accompany this picture taken this morning on our walk home from an early Sunday morning kid-free breakfast.

So, here is a slice out of that day a few weeks ago:

It is a day made for sitting in cafes, and I’ve spent a good part of my morning–all of it really–in various of Davis’ busiest.  In my third…and it’s only 11:30.  It’s raining, and not just a little.   The world outside the cafe is dark–very dark for midday–and lacking contrast..  I’m looking out on gray skies, gray pavement, and gray buildings all darkened by heavy clouds and blurred by lots and lots of water–rain, standing water everywhere, splashing water.  Lately, the sunny days have been very springlike, but this is not a typical color-filled spring view.  None of that rich brown spring soil, nor the green of new foliage, no sun, no shadows, and definitely no dazzling bloomage to see.  I don’t even see cars that might add color to the scene.  As I said, no contrast; it’s all just dark and gray.  But.  I’m finding it exhilarating; it’s fervent and fierce and wind flurries are adding the perfect drama.  And I’m totally digging being in here, looking out.  This scene–think charming, winter, bustling Parisian cafe–calls for steamy windows.. and we have them.  The cafe’s crowded with people sitting at small tables, too close to feel private.  But being a cafe sardine today is tres appealing.  The sound track: classical music (of course) barely audible, grinding beans, the occasional gasp of the steam machine, and the muted roar of dozens of conversations.  I’m looking at a guy in a fedora talking to another guy whose hair is wet and fussy and flattened across his bald spots.  Every woman has a scarf around her neck, all tied, it seems, in the same variety of hitch knot.  There are also a lot of people staring at laptop screens in postures that would annoy their mothers.  I’m loving this winter so far and in no hurry for it to end.  I am so enjoying my cafe time with hot coffees and poppyseed muffins and friends and so many conversations.  It feels okay to be sort of immobilized–by the weather, by all these clothes, even by a lack of direction. There are moments when I’m impatient with it and get some impulse for productivity.. but it’s a reflex I’m content to ignore for a while in favor of just being and listening.

 

Imagine my relief to crack open my fortune cookie last night and find this.

Non-readers of this blog–there are an awful lot of you–may not know that in 25 days I am leaving for Nepal.  But I am.   NEPAL!… the very same “east” referred to in the fortune above.

Can you believe that?

So, yes, absolutely, I was relieved and grateful that fate and a series of fortunate events lead me to these good and prophetic words:  It was I who suggested our Friday night cuisine, and it was I who chose the restaurant.  It was I who finished dinner first (no surprise) and who, after just a moment’s consideration, chose the cookie that would bear this fortune. Me, the only one among last night’s diners to be going to Nepal. (*)

Just one more excellent thing to soothe my raging conflict about this upcoming trip.

I believe in fate…at least today, and plan not to eat another fortune cookie until I get back.

(*) Grammar geeks, enjoy your research on I versus me, and let me know how you’d have handled these usages…