Obama

I will be wearing pearls tomorrow in honor of Michelle Obama, the first African American woman to be First Lady. Well not so much in honor of her but as a symbol all the other African American women I know who are out there and quietly enduring what society so unkindly dishes out. The first on my list is Dorothy. Dorothy put aside any reticence she might have had gathered from her 70 years of experience in this world and made me feel like a niece. She encouraged me during the difficult days and laughed with me whenever we could.

I could list them all one by one but that would sell them all short. I saw their anger and their hurt as they saw their children suffered the ignorance of other adults. As their children suffered they sought to find the best path to a better day and explained that the words and actions belonged not to them but to the speakers and doers and then heaped words of love into the air to fall like a balm into their children's hearts.

Obama embodies the future for me, black and white, all sides of the coin like a beautiful marble rolling into the ring. and hopefully everyone will aspire to take him home at the end of the day. Who knows if he will solve the problems facing the nation, so much will depend on factors outside his control but if he can inspire us all to want less and give more maybe tomorrow will be better than yesterday.

Later....

I have listened the inauguration ceremony and wished that the prayers could have been more inclusive but I am glad we listened, maybe the pray-ers will listen to us in return. I listened to the speech and felt glad that I had heard the first non white President accept the job. I heard him ask me to complain less and give more and I thought, "I can do that". As this traveller is having to stay put for a while I will see first hand if the new President will put a stop to the insider pilfering and the disregard for proper financial conduct. All I ask is for him to govern from the top down and keep an eye on his henchmen.

Out of the slump

It is difficult when the world just isn't working like it should. I hit a brick wall and collapsed into bed around New Year. It was coming ever since the gun incident. That gun became a beacon which lit up the potholes in this part of the road. I have to get on the roundabout and find an exit.

The more you change the more you remain the same. I went for long walk the other day ostensibly to bank the first Phoenix paycheck but mostly to try and end the funk. I passed a sign that said "Metamorphosis" and it got me thinking. We are born not so much a blank slate to be written on by life but more like a pencil sketch upon which life fills in details. As the years roll by and the events and experiences pile on smudges and lines we either become a filled out portrait of ourselves or we become masked by the times we have endured. No matter the result the sketch is still there and it is our choice to celebrate the change or to peel back the mask. I have been peering beneath the surface and I think it is time to get some input from the sisters.

I am happy to know that since this was taken I have lost 20 lbs. It is amazing how lost one can become languishing in an unhappy marriage. The most productive part of the journey so far has been the discovery of two books, one about deliberate happiness and the other about the connecton between stress and being overweight.

Deliberate happiness is not about walking around with a meaningless grin on your face and doing the Pollyanna dance, it is deliberately focusing on the people, places and things that one associates with happy, contented, satisfied times. In so doing you can beef up the positive effects of one's life. In essence, turn on the light to end the darkness instead of poking around in the dark. The other day a wonderful friend asked me what did I like about Australia. For the next three days I found endless opportunities to think and talk about gum trees, cockatoos and galahs. Sorry Tan but nothing beats a gum tree.
This is one of the first gum trees I fell in love with in 2007.
And this is the one I stood under waiting for the bus at the end of the work day. I miss riding the bus and meeting people.

Waiting

You can just sit around and wait or you can get busy. Job hunting has ground to a halt waiting for the festive season to pass. I am converting some of my finds from Vinnie's into presents and with some of the wool I brought back with me I am working on a tail-less scarf for J. and into a frame I will put a photo of J and his dogs for his father and mother. It just doesn't feel much like Christmas.

Last year I got to know my nephew. He was a newborn baby when I left Oz and now he has babies of his own. Evidently my driving was too much for my passenger so I ended up a passenger. Back then I was sufficiently shell shocked to just fold my tent instead of defending myself from another attack from someone who thought their feelings trumped those of everyone else. Anthony was a delightful companion who didn't need a running chatter for seven hours but endured gallantly all the same. The trek north passed the big banana and the giant shrimp ended at the condo of my sister. There her children and grandchildren and one of mind celebrated with food, the beach, chatter and nervousness. One guest arrived with newspaper clippings ready to spark conversations regarding social situations somewhere else. How boring! Family Christmas for people who have not seen much of each other is about how you eat your sandwiches and do-you-remember stories of the few things they have shared. Don't bring the outside world in because we are not there anymore.

Do you remember the effects of seeing something shocking. How it burned an image in the front of your mind and how everything else had to navigate through the horrid image. I remember a trip to Copenhagen in '72 and husband and I were titillated by the idea of a porn shop on main street and we went inside. I saw things in the one or two minutes we were inside that haunted me uncomfortably for years. Eventually life took over and new images laid a heavy curtain over the shocking collage. I am haunted by the image of the young man and his gun. I am troubled by the knowledge that here some people consider violence not only permitted to them by law (and money) but also their right. The person that swerves in front with horn blowing in their SUV (sudden uncontrolled violence)horn, probably has a gun as well. I tremble in my spirit. When I spoke of the incident I was told of a man with limited movement carries a gun all the time. Who does he want to shoot?

Are they crazy?

I spent Saturday washing clothes and floors and generally cleaning up the nest. Winter is coming even to Phoenix. A quick trip to the grocery store held for me an unexpected surprise. A young man dressed in jeans, ti-shirt and boots was striding hurriedly across the parking lot. His bustle attracted my attention and as he went through the entrance I saw sticking out from under his bunched up ti-shirt a big black gun. I stop dead in my tracks but noticed that everyone else walking towards the store continued walking. Let me give you the list of thoughts that raced through my mind.
1. a robbery was about to take place
2. move away from the store
3. why did no one else see that gun
4. no criminal would expose their gun in that way until the last moment
5. Oh my God that is an ordinary citizen of these parts

Twenty-four hours later I am now thinking that this is a very dangerous place where everyone is potentially armed and dangerous. I find this very depressing. I can't quite get my head around this idea of wearing a gun like a fancy belt buckle.

Do you want to work for yourself....

I went to an interview yesterday. I walk into the room where I had been invited to take a seat anywhere. Fortunately the word 'anywhere' set off a tiny light bulb so when I saw a room full of people no audible exclamation exited my head. Wow! A sales pitch for a job. Essentially they are seeking independent agents who tirelessly tout the product while the company sits back and collects. Sure the potential earnings were fantastic and almost guaranteed but if everything is so fantastic why doesn't the company bare the burden of finding business. The presenter was eager to correct any impression that is was not a pyramid scheme. Aha! It is actually a see-saw. The corporation is the pivot point and all the little agents are marbles resting on the board. If I really wanted to work for myself I would be making adorable crafts that everyone would just have to have. I would be designing scarves that don't need to be pinned to stay on. I would be writing children's stories that BN would illustrate. I would be writing a story that DDH would turn into a screen play. I would not be flogging someone else's dream. I would not mind helping someone else fulfill their dream but I would like to be compensated for all the time I spent on that and away from my own dreams. Ah well, back to the classifieds!

- Guess who saved the day?


Somewhere along Bell Road there is a St. Vincent de Paul thrift store. After the morning's disappointment I returned to pick up a few thing: a bowl for the herbs to grow in, place mats for the table....

I also picked up a couple of sheets that will become covers for the new couch. Day-time dog guards - Bella in particular likes her comfort and Bouba just likes to try new things. I am going to attempt some machine embroidery and make a curtain for M&J's bedroom. Somehow the towel over the window just doesn't add much to the house. Contemplating all this I am struck by by how far I have traveled to just do the same thing.

A walk at the end of the street..

A short drive up 40th Street and slip into a parking spot and as quick as a wink you are walking over sand/gravel/rocks watching out for the cactus needles. Quite amazing!

Don't loose sight of the path because it begins to all look the same. There is evidently a rule of sharing the pathways. Horses then pedestrians then cyclists. Well we did not see any horses but every cyclist except a lovely young woman took the right of way as if they were competing in the Tour de France. I guess it has something to do with lycra pants!

As I drive around town - usually turning the wrong way - I am amazed at how many hills there are. Fortunately there has been enough open land for people to build around the hills for the most part. A beautiful city, even if a little dusty. Feels quite like Canberra in a way.

Ah fall in the desert

Waiting for the heavens to open up and for a job (bone) to fall from the sky. I feel a bit like Bouba. She wanted to get in the the pool area to suss out the next-door- through-the-back-wall dog. The day before they had had a little bit of a do. Bouba doesn't bark, well maybe she does but in three weeks I have only heard a whiny growl. However the next door dog was going hell for leather and Bouba had tried on several occasions to jump the wall to find out what all the ruckus was about. Needless to say I made the necessary calls to her to quit jumping vertically up the wall within a few inches of the top. I had passed up the glorious task of weeding the pool area in favor of a little reading - The Vanished Man by Jeffrey Deaver.

Job hunting has to be the most difficult task for me. I don't have the classic resume. What I could put down just doesn't fit into any of the sort after skills of the modern world. Raised three wonderful children who are completely themselves and not clones of either their father or myself. I look at them and think, "What interesting people they are, so different". It is wonderful having a conversation with them because I just don't know what they think about everything. Two failed marriages yuck, what kind of recommendation is that. Lived in France for eleven years but french is now rather rusty. Lots of experience but none of it very useful. Several years as a hobby potter and community teacher. Oh yes, I learned to make macrame once too!