An Anniversary.

Thirty-three years ago, deer season was opening in Groveland.  It was one of those crisp, sunny autumn days that follow on the heels of the first cold snap of the season.  Our friends -- many from the San Francisco Bay area -- gathered in Groveland to support us as Ray and I were married.

We chose a spot we both loved -- under an ancient oak tree shading the front porch of the historic ranch house once owned by Edmund James, later Sol Ferretti, and finally Dunn and McLellan before it was sold to Boise-Cascade and incorporated into the Pine Mountain Lake subdivision.  The house and barn were moved from their original location along Big Creek to an elevation where they would sit on the lake shore of the last manmade recreational lake in California:  Pine Mountain Lake.

Kimo, then 7, sat on the deck snapping the lid of the ring box -- still containing the wedding rings.  I had visions of the rings dropping through the spaces between the decking and into the sand beneath -- and the need to crawl around under that deck to find these all-important symbols of our love.  I'm still wearing mine, so disaster was averted.

After a casual lunch and some wonderfully fruity punch created the night before by our favorite priest, we headed out through Yosemite National Park and Tioga Pass to Utah where I would meet Ray's family.

Give thanks for real love, the kind that strengthens over time, bringing out the best in each of you.  Give thanks for those precious memories.

Don't forget to pray!

Rainbows

It was raining lightly when I left for church this morning.  Against the cloudy sky this double rainbow stood out in glory.

It would have been a prettier image if I had been able to take the picture from our own street where there are trees, hedges and greenery.  Until the rainbow got lost in all those trees and hedges.

It would have been a prettier picture if I hadn't had to work around the gentlemen out for his Sunday morning walk, insisting on walking down the middle of the street into which I wanted to turn.

It would have been prettier if I had pulled just a little bit farther up the block on this street.    Or  realized that the lawn in front of this house is brown, not green.  And that there is almost no landscaping around the house.  Didn't we learn in a video class about paying attention to what else is in the view finder besides your subject?  Did I learn?  Guess not.

Enough excuses.  Give thanks for rainbows, where ever they happen to be.

Don't forget to pray!

Addiction

I admit it.  I am addicted.  To fabric.  Like most quilters, doll clothes makers, and even many dressmakers, I see a piece of fabric that I really like, and buy it.  Sometimes I buy complementary fabrics at the same time.  Sometimes I just know that the right companion pieces will come along.  Sometimes they do.  Sometimes the fabric sits in my stash for a very long time.

In one notable case, I bought a piece of fabric to make myself a dress.  After some time in my stash, Ray nagged me into making him a shirt.  He wore that shirt to death, but every time he put it on I mourned for the dress that I now  would never have ....

When the chance to win free fabric came up, I couldn't resist.  If you are inspired by color, pattern, design, fabric, take a jaunt to From Little Things and check out Sarah's new fabric give-away.  

Don't you love the names of her books?  Material Obessions and Material Obsessions Two.

I checked.  The books are available at Amazon.com.  But the covers on the American editions are B-O-R-I-N-G.   How come the Brits get the really fun photographs, as we get the boring stuff???  You can see the UK covers by scrolling down just a bit on the From Little Things link.

Have fun!  Don't forget to pray ....

The Neighborhood Mall

Kahala Mall is the neighborhood shopping area.  I was in high school when the mall was built.  My first "real" job was there, in the anchor department store.  Then it was Liberty House; today it is Macy's.

There has always been a grocery store.  For many years it was locally owned.
A couple of years ago, Whole Foods replaced Star Market.  

Cinnabon, near Whole Foods, is another of the mainland chains represented in Kahala Mall.  

There is no food court, but a number of fast food chains are represented:  Pizza Hut, Taco Bell, Panda Express, Arby's Roast Beef, Pretzelmaker ....  along with Starbucks, Jamba Juice, Godiva Chocolate ....  

Kahala Kids, and Reyn Spooner a little farther down the mall, are both locally owned.  They are two of the handfull of local shops not associated with national chains.

Today, the mall is enclosed,, air conditioned and carpeted.  Originally, all space between the shops was open air.  A mynah bird llived in a cage in the garden shop (which was in the wing which now features the Apple Store, Reyn Spooner, and Kahala Kids).  If you talked to him, he'd look at you quietly.  Eventually he'd mutter, "Birds can't talk."

This bust of Jack Lord, who in his lifetime lived in the neighborhood and was a frequent shopper at this mall.  Someone regularly gives him a fresh flower lei.

It's definitely not Groveland.  There's lots more stuff here, but none of the personalization or personality of shopping in Groveland.  Here, there are lines for everything.  You don't routinely stop in the parking lot to visit with a friend, find a shop owner who will go out of his or her way to find you a specialty product not  normally carried, or catch up on local news from friends who also happen to be shop owners.   I miss the community of living in a small town.

Give thanks for friendships.
Don't forget to pray.

A Milestone

A week or so ago my mother found an advertisement that caught her fancy.  "This is what I should have."  she announced.  Never mind that I've been trying for the better part of 2 years to get her to even look at one of these.

Today she went shopping.

The new walker has 4 wheels, 2 hand brakes, a basket AND a (probably the most important feature) a seat!   Makes shopping a whole lot easier.

She plans to use it in her gardening, too.

Give thanks for timely advertising.

Don't forget to pray.

Comfort Zones and Second Languages

Last Sunday I joined several of my Daughters of Hawaii sisters, along with members of the Hawaiian Royal Societies, at a service at St. Andrew's Episcopal Cathedral honoring the birthday of our last reigning monarch, Queen Lili'uokalani.  It should have been a very familiar service.  It wasn't.

It wasn't the service that was different, but the language.  It was mostly in Hawaiian, from the lovely solo chanting of the processional right through to the closing hymn.  One of the two lessons was read in English, as were the prayers of consecration.  The sermon was preached in English. Announcements?  English.  Everything else was in Hawaiian. We were a part of the regularly scheduled Hawaiian language Mass offered weekly at St. Andrew's.

Hawaiian is a beautiful, melodious language, but I am not a Hawaiian speaker.  I can read the words, but have to work at everything new.  I can grasp the meaning of what I am reading if I am familiar with the English version of the text, but in most cases I am reading words with no understanding of what they mean.  In my struggle with the language, I lost the experience of worship. I was out of my comfort zone.   I left feeling frustrated instead of nourished.

Suddenly it dawns on me that this is the same experience shared by immigrants to the US.  The language is different, and therefore strange.  If I recognize every third or fourth word, do I really understand what is being said?  How can I learn this new language if no one in my daily life uses or understands it?  How can I build a vocabulary in meaningful context?  Is there someone patient enough to help me through this barrier?

What happens when I travel?   Even English-speakers from different parts of the world give different meanings to common words.  Nappies or diapers?  Suspenders or braces?  Fanny?  Accepted slang, or rude and crude?  Note that Americans wear fanny packs, while in the UK they wear bum bags.

Walk through the market, or explore a cookbook.  What in the world is a Swede? (a rutabaga, not necessarily a citizen of Sweden.)  Caster sugar? (sold in the US as baker's sugar)  Treacle? (Molasses, but I am not sure if it differentiates between dark and light varieties) Sultana? (golden raisins, usually made from Thompson Seedless grapes).  In Hawaii we have gulches and streams.  In California we are likely to call them canyons and creeks -- often pronounced cricks.  Farther east, they become valleys and rivers.

As we remember that today is the anniversary of that terrible day in September 2001, let us celebrate our humanity, give thanks for the diversity that gives us breadth and strength, work to get beyond our differences such as language or accent or even where we worship.  Celebrate the lives of those who were lost that day, American or not.  Celebrate the courage of those who responded to help in whatever way they could.

Happy birthday, Eleanor!

Don't forget to pray....

If Can, Can ...

Armed with a brand new pocket-sized camera, Panasonic's FH20 (on sale at Costco for a couple of more days at the best price I've seen nationally), I wandered Kahala Mall.  This t-shirt, hanging in the doorway of one of my favorite boutiques, caught my eye.  I am likely to go back and purchase it as a Christmas gift for my mom.  It says a lot about how one thinks and feels at 96.

If you can do it, do it.  If you can't, you can't.  Don't fret about it.  Worrying over something you cannot do doesn't do you -- or anyone else -- any good.



The sentiment was particularly apropos yesterday.  After appointments and errands taking up a large hunk of my day, I    found this scene behind the 40' or so of front hedge.











And these at the front
door.



If can, can.  My mother had watered and pruned out the front hedge.  Whenever possible she worked from her garden chair.

Then she ran out of energy.

Filling the green waste can was now my task.  It's a big can, but her morning activity filled it about 2/3 full.

Mother's version, after her nap.  Smiling sheepishly.
"You picked up my trimmings.  I was waiting for you to get home and move the [wheeled] garbage can over so I could fill it up."

And then the afterthought:  "Thank you."

If no can, no can.
That's why I am here.   To pick up at least some of the No Longer Can part of her life.