Saturday, June 30, 2012

Rebecca and I read last night at the Seattle Center, which, if you think about it, is an odd sort of place to read. People wander around looking for FUN but the Fun Forest has been dismantled even thought you can still get cotton candy and fudge and a burger, carny eats. So the people peer here and there. Maybe they ride to the top of the Space Needle and decide that the Experience Music Project isn't TOO expensive and what the hell but there was parking and it wasn't raining for once and R and I trotted out to the outdoor stage where we weren't supposed to sit. No sitting on the edge of the stage. Why? Don't know.

So one of our audience brought two chairs so we could sit down instead of stand above the grass, silly really, but I ended up standing to read because I can bounce on my feet and wave my arms about and be more emphatic. Helps with projection or at least I think it does.

Was very happy to read some poems R hadn't heard before. I heard her snickering behind me and was so pleased. Poems aren't supposed to be funny, I guess, and so people put on their serious poetry faces and try to understand the deeper meaning. But a poem about terrible babies isn't serious, it isn't. And you can laugh if you want.

Rebecca read Henry Darger poems, so amazed to hear them, including barking out loud. And her last poem, O Chicago, was beautiful;  broken streets and red light district and ruin and grace. I entered into her Chicago and I think I'm still there. Henry's Chicago. Not a shiny new city like the West Coast but an old city and cranky.

Today it's cloudy and humid, tropical silky air. Weeds love it.

On our hike a few days ago, Felix encountered snow for the first time. The trail was high enough there were big patches of old snow we had to cross. He pounced and slid and ate some and shied away and bounced back. Dogs never think about looking like fools. They are fools.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Today I plucked from the towering pile a bunch of poems for tomorrow night. I'll shuffle and reshuffle and decide which order (important you know) and then march back and forth reading and slurring and mispronouncing and so forth. I once had the word chimera in a poem and I mispronounced it in my writer's group. I was so embarrassed. My vocabulary is much bigger than my daily speech and when do you get to use/hear a lovely word like chimera? Or beatitudes?

Me and Felix off to a hike of some sort. It's sunny and warm. We both agree. Outside in the forest is the    finest place to be, almost always.

By the way. I write good. I really do.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Dear my darlings. Yesterday we had a right fine baby all fat with a full head of hair in the daytime which is a blessing you can bet because no sleep lost for the midwives.

In two days (three days), I read with Rebecca in public. Some old, some new. When I read in public, I rehearse first. I pace the house with a watch and time myself. I read several times so I won't stumble over the big words. I once read with others who had been nominated for a city-wide poet laureate thang. It was thrilling. I admired some of the other poets and felt proud. Proud, I was.

I'm going to read a poem about bad babies, a sex poem cleverly disguised and maybe a suicide poem or three. O yes. A fine medley indeed.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Dears-It's gay Sunday in the Northwest and fortunately for all the drag queens, it didn't rain and spoil their makeup. Holly and I went dancing last night and it was so crowded, we couldn't move. There was much drunkenness and public fondling and smooching. And many homosexuals. I went to my dance class this morning so now I can't move. Well, I can move but slowly.

Sitting in the garden, I listened to a bumblebee in the bells of the foxglove. And the birds. There are ruby throated hummingbirds that visit the lilies and the hollyhocks. Faithful hollyhocks that bloom all summer. And they stretch out over the lawn and cover lesser plants. As a child, I made hollyhock dolls with two blossoms. One was the skirt and the other was the bonnet.

My silly dog and I went to the park for his run. He was leaping into the air and barking so I'd throw the ball into the water. I obliged. He's a pretty good swimmer now. And his poodle buddies were there so he had extra joy. Funny that he recognizes his own. The black puppy and he ran around, slipping and falling down with alarming happiness. I'd forgot dog joy.

Enjoy the gay.

Friday, June 22, 2012

It is actually raining here in the water logged city. I couldn't go swimming as I had planned because work strangled me into billing and answering messages and what-all. And it's not even a real work day.

As an alternative, I'm going to go for a long walk in the rain with the dawg in his raincoat and it will be just like swimming.


The raincoat goes down to my ankles and the boots are my garden boots so they will ferry rainwater from my coat into my boots but I don't care. I must get out there and smell the wet gardens of my neighbors and see all the droopy flowers.

A sparrow is singing on a wire by the back porch. The chickens are apparently impervious to the rain and they're making a great deal of noise by the gate. Ethel was perched on top of the 6 foot gate yesterday because she is the escape artist. I want her to stay put today.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Here it is. After a birth (yesterday), so tired I could sleep anywhere. I come home and of course, can't sleep once I lie down. What the hell. Look at the clock once an hour. 2:30. 3:30. 4:30. Up with the dog at 7.

Foggy all day. Now it's midnight and clinic starts at 8.

Yeah! Meanwhile the katz sleep 22 hours a day.

I think they should get up, shower, find something presentable to wear and go off to work. All day. No cat-napping, not one.

I bet they'd be right grumpy. (watching too much BBC)

Wish me luck. I'm going to bed now.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Today father's day I went to a meditation retreat with my dear teacher Nelly. And my father arrived several times. At first, there was a baby in a drain pipe so I pulled her out. She was ok, just a wee bit scratched. Next, my father showed up, much older that he was when he died, crinkly skin around his eyes exuding kindness. He told me money didn't matter but I should fill up a car (this car, all white and shiny) with babies, lots of babies. Not all my babies but random babies. He was so friendly and seemed to know what he was talking about.

Finally, he settled deep in my bones. And I knew he loved me as best as he could. And today, it was enough.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

I know this is totally cheesy but I rented 'The Bodyguard' from Netflix. I've watched Whitney sing, 'I will always love you' about 43 times since she died. Gorgeous. Amazing voice. Her life was a mess.

Today I listened to an interview with Patti Smith and she talked about Amy Winehouse. We watch people we know/love go down the suicide road and there's nothing we can do, except watch.

Friday, June 15, 2012


What a morning it is. I called my usual hiking bud but she can't come out to play. Felix and I must go to the mountains. I owe the tax man a billion dollars but I'm ignoring the bill. I know I can't do this forever but sheesh.

Yesterday on our walk, the crows were dive-bombing us, swooping down very close to our heads. I looked over at the yard and there was their latest child. On the grass. I think he/she could fly but was just getting the hang of it. Even crow parents protect their offspring.

Our neighbors harbored starlings and wrens in the eaves of their house this year. We can see the comings and going from the kitchen window. First the nest building. Then worm transport and the sound of much peeping. Finally, the parent bird and a fledgling on a branch, taking flying lessons. A dangerous time for the youngsters. I know they're going to plug up the holes but it's a spring ritual, seeing who comes back and starts the process again.

Last night at dance, I swooned and fell in love with the whole world. Diastole and systole. Today there is the quiet and the birds. Time for the true forest.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Oh, I broke a crown, not a tooth, not a real tooth anyway. So that'll be a coupla thousand to fix.

I went on a hike today. Me and Felix.

These are my woods. I love them. In the rain. Felix crosses streams like a big boy now. We didn't see another soul. But there were thrushes. And finches. I don't care to climb to the top. There are so many trails that wind around and around. Fields of ferns.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

No, I'm not going to church (dancing) this morning because someone is percolating in labor and I have to be ready to go, to go quick. ((sigh))

Yesterday I went to Point Nn Point where there is a lighthouse and the salt water on Bainbridge Island to (sic) perform a wedding for two lovely people who decided to get hitched 6 days ago. They pulled it together with many delicious foods and a few people (and many children-she's a midwife) and the wild sun/shadow/rain/sun/waves weather. Felix went with me and ran up and down the beach in doggy delirium. While biting down on a spinachy filo wrapped thingy, I broke a tooth.

I think we have outlived our teeth. I think we were supposed to die by 40 and now the various parts are cracking, busting, disintegrating etc.

Felix's teeth are perfect. He just got them this year. Hell, he was born this year.

So now a trip to the dentist to see what kind of production I'll have to endure, grinding, sanding, excavating, capping, pulling and finally, in about 6 months, a reasonable facsimile of a tooth which has costed way too much. Thank gawd for dental insurance.

If I make it to 80, will I have any original teeth left? I brush, floss, use my electric toothbrush, get 3 cleanings a year, wear my night guard, all for this? An errant pebble in spinach undoing all my hard work.

At least there's a NYT waiting for me on the front porch.

Saturday, June 09, 2012

Today I'm going to Bainbridge Island, to the Point No Point lighthouse to perform a wedding, a very last minute wedding. My buddy on Bainbridge called me on Wednesday to ask if I could do it and in the middle of my clinic day I said, sure, why not. Sheesh. Maybe it'll be nice today. I can bring the dog who's driving me crazy at the moment so I better take him for his walk.

Deb brought him a ball that crackles when he bites it. It sounds like he's chewing leetle bones very loudly.   But then there is a segmented snake that has a different squeak in every segment. He plays that like a glockenspiel.


The buk-buks are eating an ear of corn. They LOVE corn. And melon. And sunflower seeds.

I can't believe I wear a bra that I could use as a hat. Or a raincoat. When did my breasts get so big? I think when I was sleeping, gremlins broke in and plumped them up into the 36 DD they are now.

I'm still in denial about them. I mean, will they just get bigger and bigger until they are the size of Buicks? And then what?

Thursday, June 07, 2012

It's cold and raining and the garbage trucks are clanking around outside. Betty the pullet died this morning. We didn't do the right things for her. I thought she was illin' yesterday but had to run off to a long long long clinic day with car repair thrown in and Deb was here. She tried to help by isolating her and talking to the chicken person about antibiotics and different food.


We should have brought her into the house and warmed her up and made sure she was eating and drinking. So this morning I tried to do those things but it was too late. She was the moran, the chicken with dark brown eggs (she never laid any, still too young) and pretty black and grey feathers.

Shit. She was the littlest one and the one Lucy picked on. But she was growing and I thought she would be able to hold her own. She's wrapped in a towel and I go in and stroke her pretty feathers.

I let the other chickens out of their coop. They don't mind the rain, in fact they don't seem to notice. I threw them some greens from the garden and they're out there scratching and pecking.

Birds are different from other creatures. They're miniature dinosaurs.

Tuesday, June 05, 2012

The woods in the rain.

Monday, June 04, 2012

I know what I said. But.

Tomorrow I'm going to the forest with the dog. I don't care that it maybe raining and grey. The trees will drip with green rain and hopefully the trail won't be too muddy. I'll take it all in, like medicine.

I have too many responsibilities back at the ranch. The mountain doesn't care about that. We're all the same to the mountain.

Today I went to the wild park by my house and heard an eagle high up. Once you've heard their manic chatter, you never forget it.

I need the wild to feel normal. Right now, I don't feel normal.

Whatever normal is, I'm not sure.

Sunday, June 03, 2012

Yesterday I delivered a baby. And she's a beautiful thing and her parents and the grandmas and the cousin and auntie.

The whole family is blessed.

Sometimes I'll drive around my city and I'll pass a house where a babe was born and I think, "That house is blessed, this block is blessed."

This morning I went to dance class with my old tired body and I danced myself into a whirl of happiness. Dancing=life.

Friday, June 01, 2012

Today the air is soft. And moist. I let the buk-buks out and I can hear them. They scratch and scratch and make little worried noises. And Hugo the cat lies in the dirt by their fence and stretches out so he'll get dirt all over his fur. I think he thinks he'd be able to conquer a buk-buk if he could only get in there but he'd be WRONG.

Silly cat.