Long time, no see...

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it?  A lot has happened, most of it not so great.  In October 2015, I tripped over a small rock while walking my dogs, and broke my foot in half.  It required major surgery, 3 days in the hospital, 6 screws, 3 months in bed, and 4 months of physical therapy to fix.  Sheesh.  Had to relearn how how to walk, and I still have pain and a lot of stiffness.  Still, thanks to the great docs at UCSF, I'm glad to have a foot---yes, it was that bad.  

In January of this year (2017), I lost my beloved dog Ivy to cancer.  It was a mighty hard goodbye, as she was alert up until the end.  She didn't want to go, and the look of utter astonishment and betrayal on her face as the needle was slipped in will haunt me forever.  She knew.   

R.I.P., baby girl.  Love you always.

January, 2015.  About 8' across.

On a bit more cheerful note, I started a Guerrilla Garden in January, 2015.  I got sick and tired of the city neglecting the embankment across the street from me.  No mowing, no watering...it looked horrible and smelled worse.   It was so successful, I've decided to expand it out onto the hillside itself. I'll be showing you the hillside as it progresses.  



You can't see it in the picture below, but I've already planted 2 prickly pears, a mesquite, oregano, rosemary, 2 currants, a geranium, a Mexican marigold, a Chinese daisy, and a grape vine.

This was the garden this spring (2017)

Living Your Real Life.

"I keep waiting for my ship to come in, and all I ever get is the tide."

                                                                              ---Jim Croce

Living my real life has always eluded me.  How do you get what you want?  How do you afford it?  How do you break free of the things that keep you from happiness?  When are you too sick, too tired, too old to do this?  When is it time to give up?  

These are all questions that occupy my mind.  I have known from quite a young age exactly what it was I wanted out of life.  And yet, my circumstances have always seemed to conspire to keep me from having it.  I've tried.  I've come close.  But never any cigar.  I am beginning to wonder if it's even possible in this day and age.  Everything seems so complicated, so fast, so frenetic.  I've had trouble keeping up with this world all my life.  To be honest, I never really could.  And it just gets worse.  Faster, louder, tougher, more expensive, more crowded.

I don't know what to do about it.  I feel woefully inadequate and not up to the task.  I'm tired.  I'm confused.  I get sad and depressed.    

Anyone who ever had a heart...

LOU REED DEAD AT 71

Rock and Roll legend Lou Reed died today at the age of 71 from complications due to a liver transplant in May.

What can I say about Lou?  The man shaped my life.  I first learned about him in 1974.  I was 14 years old, in my first year of High School.  It was a rough time for me.  I had a really hard time adjusting, I was bullied mercilessly.  To say that I was unhappy would be putting it mildly.  Suicidal was more like it.  Then I found Lou, and The Velvet Underground.  Oddly enough, their often depressing music somehow cheered me.  I learned, no matter how bad my life was, it could be worse.  I learned there were other misfits out there, just like me...shadow people who didn't fit in to "regular" life.  I met fellow fans because of them, and I made friends outside of school.  I even met the man I've been with for the past 35 years because of Lou.  

Yeah, Lou was often a prickly blowass.  He insulted his fans and acted like a dick.  But he was real.  Underneath it all was a beautiful, deeply sensitive soul who spoke to me in my darkest times.

What can I say about Lou, except that, my life was saved by Rock and Roll.

RIP, Lou.  I'll miss you.  You turned around and broke my heart today.

And I am lost and I can't even say why...

To paraphrase Neil Diamond,

"Well, I'm NYC born and raised. But nowadays, I'm lost between two shores
Frisco's fine, but it ain't home. New York's home, but it ain't mine no more."

This is the time of year I get homesick.  Some years, not so much. Other years, a lot.  This year it's bad.  On Nov. 6th, I will be living here on the Left Coast 30 years.  That's longer than I lived in NYC, since I was 23 when I moved here.  Time- wise, I'm more of a Californian than a New Yorker; more of a Westerner than an Easterner.  But still, you know what they say about taking the girl out of NYC...

There are things I just can't get used to.  There's no weather here.  It's always the same, cool and damp and usually windy.  It gets a little colder in the winter.  At least, it used to.  With global warming, the winters are even warmer than they used to be.  I miss the seasons, the crisp chill in the air and riotous colors of Autumn.  The first snow of winter.  The first crocus of spring.  Time passes by unnoticed, until one day you wake up and see your hair is grey and your youth is gone.  I guess that happens everywhere, but when you have no outward signs of the seasons passing, it all becomes internal, and it's easier to fool yourself.  It comes as more of a shock when you do realize it.

My bonsai tree.  The most fall color I'll see around here...sigh.

Another thing is the people.  Oh, they're mostly nice.  I've made friends, and genuinely like many of them.  But they're... different.  I always feel that separation, have that feeling of being an alien. The myth of the laid back Californian is exactly that, a myth.  They think highly of themselves, these San Franciscans,  They take themselves seriously.  Not necessarily in a conceited way, but just in the general sense of an unconscious feeling of entitlement.  You can't kid them, can't make fun of them.  They don't get it.  They take it seriously, they start to dislike you.  Their sense of humor seems to be lacking; that sense of laugh, or go mad.  Or laugh and go mad.  I miss it.  Oh, there's madness here, but it's not MY kind of madness.  They are mad, but not in a good way.

And yet, if I went back... 

If I went back, I would be alien there.  I would hate it.  I'd hate that everyone is always trying to get one over on me.  I'd hate the suspicion and distrust, the expectation that everyone is dangerous and/or trying to get something at my expense.  The way they know that you're lying to them, even when you aren't.  I'd hate the heat and humidity and bugs of summer, and I'd hate the dreary dark of winters that never seem to end.

I've softened in my 30 years in California.  Land of milk & honey, the promised land.  

                           

First hunting lesson.

Inspired by the hunting exploits of my friend Dave and his Siberian Laika dog, I decided to train The Raging Bulldogges to hunt squirrels.  So first, I made them a squirrel.  The string is so I can drag it along the ground to make a scent trail, and tie it to a branch.  

My friend Rhonda made fun of my squirrel, and said it looked like a kitten.  She's mean.  

So I squirrelified it a bit more.

Then I bought some nifty Squirrel Scent.

I sprayed it on the squirrel.

Then let The RBs out of the car to play with the squirrel.

I took them to a spot in the park where we don't usually go, and tied them to a log.

I dragged the squirrel by the string to lay a scent trail.  I made the first one easy, along the ground and onto a big log.

I let them all go.  It was a mad free for all.  Otto went right to the scent, and even jumped on the log.  He finally found the squirrel!  After that, I decided to try them one at a time.  This is Suzy on her first attempt alone.  

It took her a while, but she managed to find the tree.  She didn't really "get" that the squirrel could be up in the tree.

  

I had to give her a hint.

This is Ivy in the ivy.  She's Otto & Suzy's mom, and a no-nonsense character.  She's also smarter than any dog shoud be. 

She followed that trail like her nose was on a hook.  Went right to the tree, and then couldn't care less, even when I showed her the squirrel.  Ivy only cares about 2 things in the world.  Dinner, and her ball.

This is Otto on his try alone.  You can see the squirrel in the tree.  He followed the trail, but went beyond the tree.  He kept cirlcling the tree, until it finally occured to him to look up.

Unfortunately, he's not looking in the right spot.

NOW he's got the idea!

Gonna get that pesty squirrel!

Killing the squirrel.

The squirrel after our first lesson.

I'll have to make another.  I really thought that denim fabric would last longer!

All in all, we had fun, and I think they did well on their first hunting lesson for 3 little bulldogges!