Crime in my City

I’m blessed to live in a City where real crime doesn’t happen often and the “Crime Report” is a thing of wonder each week. I took a particular liking to this excerpt from the weekly paper and thought I would share it. I can just imagine the Police Officers expressions as they responded to the call…

Suspicious Person / Circumstances
6200 Block Newbury Drive. A small group of dancers, wearing neon-colored lighting affixed to black leotards, were reported ringing doorbells and spooking residence. Police were unable to locate the dancers, who turned off their costumes when residence tried to question them.

Human

Many people out there are soul searching in these difficult times. I am one of them. I can’t put those feelings into words but this lovely song has done it for me. This is for all of you (and me too). Many Blessings 😉 H

Special thanks to Civil Twilight for the beautiful song “Human”, to Da Vinci, 109BC, The Voice, Media Watch, Szukalski, Tori, People’s Voice, The Telegraph, Humanity Healing, Klunavik. MNN

HB Pier in Fog

The HB Pier (number 5) is 1,850 feet long and has been damaged or destroyed four times. (The last two I was standing on the night before). The pier (1988) is designed from concrete that has been re-inforced to withstand a 31-foot or a 7 magnitude earthquake. It uses increased space between piles to accommodate the many surfers shooting through.  The pier slopes gently up toward the seaward end in a straight line which alternates with three octagonal platforms and one rotated square. Not only is the pier structurally sound, it also retains a number of design elements from the original pier. (thanks to Wikipedia, I now know more than ever)

Camera Heads

What’s a Freaky Fashion Show without the photographers…And, since it’s Halloween…they are Camera Heads!

My Mother’s Shoes

My Mother’s Alzheimer’s disease is progressing to the point that she rarely leaves her bed. It’s a hard thing to watch and even harder because she’s never had the life that she should have. My eldest Sister came down to visit and while both Sisters and my Niece sat around my Mother’s bed, I noticed my Mother’s shoes. It has only been a few weeks since she was up and walking (albeit…slowly) but then she always did walk slowly. To appreciate just how slow, you would have to be a small child on Main Street at Disneyland…waiting for your Mother to hurry so you could catch up to your older sisters…and your Father keeping a respectable pace, forcing you to stay behind.

I felt a certain poignancy, seeing those white shoes. I know she has never liked them, preferring a darker pair of SAS shoes, no matter what color clothing my middle Sister dresses her in. I borrowed my Eldest Sister’s phone camera to take this. She understood the shot, the deeper meaning and why I took it. I look at it now with so many conflicting emotions. I can smile at all the memories and private, inappropriate jokes between 3 sisters. I can tear up at the losses we have survived, yet find great, enduring love in a Family strengthened from hardships shared within the life of one small and frail women. Sometimes it feels like the sun, just breaking through the rain. Sometimes it feels like a heavy weight tied to one leg. Life does that to you. So does Love.

Die Trying

To change the world,
Start with one step.
However small,
The first step is hardest of all.

Once you get your gate,
You’ll be walkin tall.
You said you never did,
Cause you might die trying,
Cause you might die trying.
Cause you—

If you close your eyes,
Cause the house is on fire.
And think you couldn’t move,
Until the fire dies.
The things you never did,
Oh, cause you might die trying,
Cause you might die trying.
You’d be as good as dead,
Cause you might die trying,
Cause you might die trying.

If you give, you, you begin to live.
If you give, you begin to live.
You begin, you get the world.
If you give, you begin to give
You get the world, you get the world.
If you give, you begin to live.

You might die trying.
Oh, you might die trying.
Yeah, you might die trying.

The things you never did,
Cause you might die trying;
You’d be as good as dead.
You never did.

Dave Mathews

The story of them

Whiles searching through a bin of odds and ends at the local thrift, I came across a number of wonderful animals all waiting for their next adventure. With their fresh faces and bright colors, I knew it would be only a matter of time before some child would take them home. In the midst of “the pretties” I found some odd-looking, unlikely to be leaving, misfits. I’m a bit of a oddity myself so after debating my inability to leave them…I grabbed these unloved creatures and took them with me. At home, I sat pondering them while they watched me eat my lunch. I began to wonder about their stories…and that’s when they began to whisper…

Dwight Threetoe was born to Livingston and Maudette on the Island of Amphibianina, a lost sister to the Galapagos. Dwight showed an amazing afinity for style at an early age and, while his siblings could change color to match their surroundings, Dwight could also sparkle like sequens. His parents found this wonderfully entertaining on dark nights while preparing the evening meal. But at 15, Dwight felt his calling and left to follow his dream of becoming a Fashionista. Sadly his toenails kept snagging the fabrics and he had to leave the dream behind. His search for new interests brought him to the big Apple where, after competing on a food show called “Chopped”, executives realized his true potential and offered him his own pilot. Viewers at home became mesmerized by Dwight’s unusually flamboyant clothing (which in reality was his skin) and his ability to chop, dice and mince with a single toenail. The show “Slice and Dice” became an instant favorite and now Dwight’s three toe impressions can be found on the Walk of Fame.

Memphis, future King of Bongo, fell into a tourist’s suitcase while imitating a James Bond low evading tuck and roll manuver. Once the case was reopened, he found himself on the West Coast, making friends easily with his natural good looks and charm. He was offered many choice roles in Hollywood but the bright lights soon bored him and he found himself drawn to Monster Trucks. His career was cut short when Dumai, his loyal bodyguard, found him chattering away with a group of grease monkeys and took him back the Motherland after a thorough cleansing and trip to D-Land.

Dumai (loyal friend and bodyguard to Memphis) was born into a family of tactical warfare extremists. He trained early in marshal arts, bull riding and missile deployment… though his mother felt ballet would give him a “extra little something”. Through his skills, he came under the notice of Kong, King of Bongo, and was chosen to shadow his son. At Dumai’s appointment ceremony, King Kong made note of his combat knowledge, sheer bulk and lethal piercing eyes but admitted it was Dumai’s natural grace that finally won him the opportunity to serve. Dumai’s Mother beamed. Memphis and he were inseparably until the suitcase incident. They were both relieved to be reunited, then took the trip to Disneyland before returning back home.

Lola is the love child of a famous actress/dancer and a mystery man she met in the jungle trees on a long gone vacation. Born with the natural grace of a dancer, Lola trained for years as a ballerina, only to slip on a banana peel in the middle of a perfect pirouette. Once recovered, she made her way to the city of lights where she was invited to join the cast of Jungle Book. She can be heard singing on Tuesdays and Saturdays at the Fried Plantain Theatre and Review.

Hamburgler was born into a family of vegans who noticed early on his habit of nose twitching when neighbors would barbeque. Afraid for his future, his Mother would hide his allowance which, unknowingly ignited his life of crime. Dressed in his bedtime pajamas, he would sneak out at odd hours of the night in search of a local butcher shop. With fresh ground chuck in hand, he would then locate the nearest barbeque grill and fire up. After receiving several complaints of pickle chip litter, the authorities followed a trail of mustard and found Hamburgler consuming mass quantities of stolen red meat. He was released to the custody of Ronald MacDonald, where he spends his days in “grilling-but-not-eating restitution”, forced to wear red neckties.

A different kinda school

Downtown LA

Took a quick snap…not sure exactly what the business was…but hey, I liked the Bat!

Silver City

A recent road trip, originally planned for San Fransisco, made a quick detour east to Silver City, New Mexico. Rain was in the forecast…and rain…well… my camera (and my hair) have issues with it. Once you enter the California dessert and go on into Arizona, the music changes along with the food and the people. Lucerno is on the radio, sleeping hound dogs are found in convenience stores and snake-skin boots make their entrance. At one stop, a Motel 8, Mike inquired if there were flat screen TV’s in the rooms. The gentleman, not in on the joke, stared first…then got it with a guffaw. He and his bride were recent transplants from Minnesota and, not missing the snow, were settling into the heat nicely. The next morning, we realized we were staying at “truck stop heaven” and I found the most amazing flag-draped truck in the back lot. I wasn’t alone.

We set out again, going through old towns, in search of places of interest.  We turned off at Bowie to see the old mining fort. The town itself was desolate, except on the outskirts, where it seems pecans and pistachios are grown in abundance. I saw horses walking freely between farms without fences…although they took one look at my ready camera and turned their big arses towards me. I didn’t take it personal… I don’t like having my own photo taken.

Once we stopped at the end of a long and winding dirt road, we encountered the sign that said “a gentle 1-1/2 mile walked with good trail”... People, if you EVER see a sign with those words, get the hell back in your car and drive away…fast. We started down the “gentle” trail, and about a mile into it, I had an asthma attack. I think God (or my Father in his angel form) sent the deer in just to check on me.

We made it as far as the old cemetary where a soldier had received the Medal of Honor and a small child (Geronimo’s son) had been laid to rest. From there, you could see the fort with the flag blowing gently…taunting… straight up the side of a rather large hill. I gave Mike the nod and we went back before I myself was laid to rest. To add insult, while driving out, we noticed a sign previously missed coming in. It was the handicapped entrance and apparently you could drive straight there…

When we reached Silver City, my first impression was “Haight Asbury meets Wyoming”. I had never seen so many old hippies together in one place…except maybe in that old Woodstock movie. Later (inside an antique store) my observation was confirmed on a tee-shirt…“Where all hippies go”. Beyond the hippies, I saw cowboys going about their business, even a few kids standing up on hay and one gentleman having a conversation with a cinder-block fence. In my estimation, he appeared to winning, but that block wall was holding pretty firm.

We stayed at the oldest hotel in the town…a place called The Palace. You had to park wherever you could and the curbs (I swear) were 24 inches high. Once parked, if you were too close to the curb, you couldn’t get your car door open for love or money. I made sure I didn’t need to get back in before I made the big step up. I went inside to inquire about a room and was followed in by an older, sprightly couple from Derbyshire, England. I’d been there in my travels (Pride and Prejudice ya know) and we made an instant connection. We waited, while hearing strange sounds coming from what appeared to be the adjacent bar, trying to keep up a normal conversation. The hotel lady finally came in and gave us several keys to check out the available rooms on our own, explaining she was very busy trying to get a pigeon out of the bar. I wanted to ask her if the bird needed help with his tab, but stopped myself, aware that this might be these folks first visit to the states. At least we now knew what all the yelling was and it seemed a somewhat reasonable explanation.

Her Majesty’s loyal subjects and I mounted the stairs and explored (and of course commented on) each of the room selections. The place was built in the mid 1800’s, all moldings and narrow hallways, and it certainly had its charm. Being the polite American I am, I let them have first pick of the three available and naturally… they picked my only choice. When we went  downstairs, apparently the bird had been liberated and the lady had recruited the balance of her faculties, saying “Oh, there’s another room”! “Thank God” I whispered, not wanting to be next to the breakfast area, I leaped up the stairs with the key. It was perfect with beautiful natural light, a window view up the street and at the very end of the hall and cheap!

Room reserved, camera in hand, we marched out onto the unsuspecting streets. We met up with a hippie Santa trying to give out candy canes but I feel certain his normal day  job is growing medicinal marijuana. There were interesting folks all up and down the streets…even a cowboy selling his prize farm beef from cooler chests…and thankfully none were camera-shy. We passed up a young girl with a sign that said she was giving out “good advise”. She looked about 20 so I was fairly certain about the decision to pass. I have a cat about that age so I thought I’d save money and just have a chat with Avree when I got home. We visited one new gallery that was hard to miss because the sidewalk was painted with colorful big round dots that said “Follow me”. Naturally I wanted to.  After walking a bit more, tummies were growling, so we stopped at a restaurant that said “cafe”on a neon sign. I love Mexican food but I’d had it 4 meals in a row and decided I just wanted an ordinary sandwich. I ordered an egg salad sandwich and that my friends…is exactly what I got…A fried egg on 2 slices of bead with a piece of lettuce on top. Literal took on a whole new meaning. Back outside, we noticed a sign hanging from a bridge. I shot it and it appears in an earlier story. I put it here again for those who missed it. I had to read it a few times before I understood it, but if you take the town tour, it all starts making sense.

Back at The Palace, I took my book down to the cozy lobby to read. Our room was a bit small…and what with the flat screen blaring…

Down in the lobby, I found a nice big burgundy velveteen chair with a matching footstool, and made myself at home with my book and a box of good n’ plenty. Just as things were getting good, some lady opened the door and went outside, leaving the door cracked open and all the freaking cold air coming in on me. I got up, shut it and resettled. She then came back in, placed a phone on a lamp table, put the door kickstand down and went back out. This went on a few times for the sake of her nicotine habit. Just before I strangled her to death (I’m pretty sure they still hang people there for crimes) I went back upstairs. I grabbed my coat and went to the coffee-house owned by the Palace… but not before giving her the stink eye.

I got settled in with a nice hot chai latte and big chocolate chip cookie. I had to tell the guy behind the counter what I would pay because there were no prices and he was new. Then the Harley guys started filing in. I wrote about them  previously and it’s somewhere below here. I found them entertaining and friendly with their contagious holiday cheer as they dressed for the local childrens Christmas party. It was fun to watch them take off toward the school complete with a police escort.

After coffee, another trip down the streets, and some interesting window shopping. I’m not sure the connection between Elvis and Christmas, but he’d be proud to know he’s remembered in Silver City.