Otter Love

This is so damn cute. You'll have to watch the entire video for the magnificient cuteness.

Before the next tear drop falls

Some might know my dearly beloved and I have a Tear Drop Trailer. I'm sure some wonder why, with all the time he spends with the cars, and safety team when do they have time but hey, let's add one more thing to our already full plate. The plate right now is dripping with gravy running off one side and mashed potatoes slipping of the other.

If I had to describe the Tear Drop it would be half the trailer with twice the fun. It is compact so packing and stocking the galley, notice I didn't call it a kitchen, is a challenge. We love challenges.

Cooking is very rustic. Two burner propane stove. For those of you never having the pleasure of cooking outside on propane it has two temperatures. Burning the hell our of anything in the pan and making that odd, poof, which means the fire's gone out and you'll need to re-light. Please turn off the gas, wait a few minutes then re-light. And speaking of fires, I set off the smoke alarm (yes, that little tiny thing has one) making toast one morning. Nice at 7:00 am to let others in the campground know I'd burnt something.

Ok, so we were off to a Tear Drop "Gathering" last weekend and we didn't have a clue what to expect. I'd seen a link to the event online and we thought we'd give it a try. Boy did we have fun. We found that Tear Drop Enthusiasts are just a nutty as Streetrodders so we fit right in. There were 120 trailers of different sizes and styles and my darling was in his height of glory talking to other people who've built theirs. We made many new friends, too. Some energetic sole has already posted photos of the event. SCCT Gathering

Because everytime I tell people we have a Tear Drop I hear this song from the late, great Freddie Fender--here are the lyrics.

Ahoy, mateys!

When I was a child in the 60s skin cancer and sunscreen just weren't on our radar like they are now. Jeez, it was the opposite. Lather up with the oiliest substance you could find, mine of choice was cocoa butter, and bake until you were tan. With me it was bake until you were burnt to a crisp, then peel, then freckle--but I tried anyway. I am now paying the price.

The dermatologist and I have become quite good friends and he seems to know my body as much as my beloved which is an icky thought because I just found out he was at UCLA the same time as our daughter and son-in-law. I know he's a doctor but come on, he's a kid to me.

So it goes, getting older, but it's what he's looking at that gives me pause; Actinic Keritosis. He finds these little dry scratchy places, usually on my face and zaps them with liquid nitrogen. I'm sure if he just put a cigarette out on that spot it would have the same results but with smoking laws what they are and all his little shot of this freezing liquid does the trick.

What really stops me in my tracks are the one he biopsies. He'd been watching something on the back of my leg above my knee. As I remember that was a favortie place for me to burn come summer time. Lots of walking in shorts. He always says, "Oh I'm sure it's ok but let's be safe" and it has been ok, so far.

Prevention would have been the best way to go but since that ship has sailed and most likely sunk, I make sure I keep the appointment with my boy-doctor. He must know something, right? He also teaches at med school so I'm sure he wasn't a "C" student. That doesn't mean I've given up, I use a sunscreen every morning.

Here's a site with some good info on skin cancer. We do live outside a lot here in Southern California and that won't change. Just change some of your habits and you won't have the need to scrape these barnacles off you old hull. Mayo Clinic Skin Cancer website.

Editor note: The biopsy report says it was benign. Let's hear an Amen from the choir.

Ode Spring

Spring has come, the grass is riz;
I wonder where the poseys is?

That, is a poem my father would say when Spring was mentioned. I giggled as a child, groaned as a teen, but miss it now he's gone. Happy Spring, D. Eugene.

Chief, you have mail

Our wired-haired terrorist Buddy is about eleven-year-old and is housebroken but when I went into my studio last week, a no-dogs-allowed area, I found someone had left me a "present" on the floor. Present in this case was a small pile of dog crap in the corner and yes, I do know the difference between a gift of some value and this. I was amazed because this isn't something this dog does. Oh there was that one time at Mary's when, much to my horror, he lifted his leg on a house plant but the two Bark Brothers were there and I think he was just marking his territory.

My beloved stepped in on Buddy's behalf because while moving cars in and out of the side yard he'd closed the doggie door and forgot it for the rest of the day. Poor Bud-man. There was no use admonishing him, it was long past, but this incident did qualify Buddy for a new Navajo name. My darling christened him, Poops-on-Floor.

Thanks, Snores-Real-Loud. I can only guess what he calls me.

Somewhere Über the Rainbow

The German word über has migrated into our American slang to mean super or the best but the word's translation means over or above. The word übermensch, which means super human or superman, might be where there super came into our definition.

Artist Tim Hawkinson's naming his musical installation at the Getty Center, Überorgan is spot on to the literal and slang definition of the word. These huge super balloons and horns float over our heads in the Museum entry hall and spurt out wonderful deep booming music. If you listen carefully you might pick up a melody. Yesterday I heard the first few bars from Tchaikovsky Swan Lake.

We are lucky not only to have the Überorgan but also four new works from the artist commissioned for the Getty. The artist uses all types of materials to create these pieces. He works with "found" objects so take a close look at Octopus--I could stare at it all day. The name of the exhibit is Zoopsia, visual hallucination of animals. That Tim Hawkinson is so clever with the language he manipulates it as much as his found objects.

With Clara making her appearance in Oudry's Painted Menagerie in May and Zoopsia and the Überorgan hanging around until September the summer will be a treat for the kids. How clever of the Getty to have this on display all summer.

The Getty Center is a great place to bring kids. Last year I noticed every Wednesday the same mother with kids would show up. She was pleased that I recognized her and told me it was cheaper to bring the kids here once a week than the zoo or even the beach. Parking at the beach has gotten pricey and with our free admission and eight buck parking she thinks it a bargain and often brings neighbor kids. She said the kids love the Family and Art Rooms and can run around in the garden and because she comes so often she can give them little bursts in the museum looking at the collections. Fun for all.

Daffodils anyone?

Yes! We have had a number of summer type days, which makes it Spring here in Southern California. See how lovingly my little frog looks at the daffodils.

Out my kitchen window you can see my dwarf navel orange tree with some oranges ready to pick. What you can't smell are the new blossoms, they smell like heaven or what heaven should should smell like. Well maybe heaven should also smell like cinnamon, too. Oh, or maybe donuts and apple pie.

What does your heaven smell like?

The Boys in Blue

There is a post on PBE about the doggies and their spa day but I had to post this additional photo of the furry little boys. Their haircuts made them a little susceptible to the cool morning so lil bird sent their new sweaters she knit for them.

Buddy has a new hair cut at as well, my beloved refers to this as his "witness protection" look.

A convienient lie

Karl Rove is on the loose, again. He's trying to shore up his buddy's rep. Trying to put a positive spin on Bush's legacy. Legacy? We are at war for the wrong reasons using up our most precious resources, our nations future generation, and let's not even talk about how much money is being wasted, poured down that rat hole.

My beloved had a good thought the other day. Remember the plaque President Harry Truman had on his desk in the oval office, The Buck Stops Here. Well, he says it should be screwed to Bush's desk.

Bush's legacy. He'll be lucky to get out without getting impeached.

Soldiers Home Now

Over heard at the park

"Did you go to the dance?" said the lady sitting behind me to her friend. I couldn't exactly see these two women but I could tell they weren't teenagers.

"Yes, I went to the dance," she said with a sigh.

"Well, tell me, did you have a good time?"

"I'll tell you. I went to the dance and I was lookin' real nice and I was really expectin' to get asked to dance but I just sat there, all alone, the whole night. Then, when it was just about over this nice lookin' man starts to come up to me. He was a real nice lookin' guy, you know, nice and he was smilin' at me just walkin' right up to me."

"So? what did you do?" asks her friend.

"I just sat there thinkin' finally someone's noticed me, so I smile. Pardon me, he says, would you mind dancing with my brother, he's a bit retarded."

I can see clearly, now

You would think better vision would be a blessing but to me it's just worrisome. I've worn glasses with bifocals for the last ten years.; my reading vision being the worst. I can't read anything on the TV screen without my glasses but watching TV in bed I rarely wear them. The other night I noticed I could read the "crawl", that nasty little ticker tape of a message on the bottom of most news shows, without my glasses. I thought nothing of it. The next morning I could read some larger print items that the day before I would surely have needed my glasses.

After all day at my watercolor/drawing classes my near vision was back to abnormal but my distance vision is still somewhat improved. I could read street signs sans the glasses. It seems my better vision present is melting away like the witch in the Wizard of Oz. I really don't know who to thank for that "tender mercy."

Now I wish someone would let me understand this current administration, if only for a few days.

Now I'm learning Yiddish, too?

My Yiddish lesson on Wednesday was the word, ch-il-lay-la though I'm not so sure of the spelling. The ch is pronounced as if you are clearing phlegm from your throat. Such a funny word and it means a complainer. After dropping Dolores at her house I practiced this sound on the way home until my throat was dry. What a language, it can make you laugh and clear phlegm.

Igpay Atinlay and Dogus Latinus

The meaning of word I used in a previous post, uckfay, was questioned. I assumed all knew Pig Latin and tried to be kind to my more gentle readers. Not that most of my friends would cringe if I dropped the f-bomb, it's become the common, in the vernacular, but I do take my writing serious and always remember a teacher saying it was lazy to write relying on the language of the ordinary to get a point across.

Fuck, as definition in Wikipedia, is an offensive profanity but back to the Pig Latin. Pig Latin was made somewhat famous by the Three Stooges, ixnay or amscray is what I remember as a kid but it was my sister who first said "ukfay" and it has been a family curse ever since.

Fairly new to our lexicon is Dog Latin and anyone who's been forced to learn Latin at the hands of nuns or brothers will understand the fun of the phrase, Non illegitimis carborundum; don't let the bastards wear you down. Woof.