Beautiful Dreamers

Our family has dreams.

No... our family has DREAMS.

And we pay very close attention to them.

Years ago,

before computers,

when I lived in the Caribbean,

if I dreamed of my grandmother,

I'd have a letter in the mailbox the next day.

There was the time my mom dreamed she smelled gas.

We checked all of our pilot lights

then she decided to call her mother,

who lived 200 miles away.

My grandmother checked her pilots

and discovered one of the grandkids
had blown them out.

The kitchen was full of gas.

Then there was the time 

my father had booked passage

on a 5 seat Cessna going to the mainland.

He booked 4 seats,

one for him,

one for my brother Mark,

and two for my one year old son and me.

A week before the trip 

I dreamed the plane would crash.

I refused to fly.

My dad was PISSED off!

I took a commercial flight home.

My dad and brother flew in the Cessna.

It crashed.

They died

along with the pilot and a college boy

who was hitchhiking at the

Fort Lauderdale airport.

There have been many other instances

where dreams have either saved

or warned us.

And we KNOW how to tell the difference 

between it's "just a dream"

and "it is A DREAM!"

So when my son texted me at 3 am 

the second night I was in Carlsbad 

to relate to me his nightmare, 

it didn't take much for me to decide
to change my plans.

Good thing I did, 

or I would have been across two states
when my mother fell.

She was bringing in her big garbage cans
from the curb.

She stepped backwards and into a flowerbed
filled with rocks.

She lost her balance and fell backwards, 

hitting her back and hip
on a tall metal cable box 

sticking up out of the ground.

Neighbors wanted to help her up.

She refused, needing to catch her breath.

In the end, an ambulance came
and transported her

to Adventist Hospital in Hanford,

where she laid, broken,
on a gurney in the halls

from early afternoon
until 5:30 am the next morning.

She had broken her hip,

her femur was split in half,

and she had 3 broken ribs.

And she laid on a gurney in the hall 

for over 14 hours

at which time they informed my niece

that there was nobody there who was qualified 

to perform the repair surgery.

They called hospitals in Visalia and Fresno,

and all were full.

They finally transferred her by ambulance

to the trauma center in San Jose.

I got the call two days after arriving in Desert Hot Springs.

If I had not left early
I would have been in Eastern New Mexico.

As it was, it took me over 9 hours driving
 to get to San Jose.
I arrived just as mom had gone into surgery;

over 24 hours after she had fallen.

However, if I'd been in New Mexico,

there is no way I would have made it here

in time.

So... thanks Cameron, 

for knowing 

it was ok to text me at 3 am 

when you "had that feeling" 

that I should change my plans.

So I'm writing this in the parking lot 

of the trauma center in San Jose.

The good news is mom is doing better.

She is still in ICU and will be at least one more day.

They will then move her to a room,

and then discharge her to a Rehab Center

close to her home.

The other good news is I have a van,

so I'm sleeping and cooking quite comfortably,

while I wait for her release.

Life is interesting, isn't it?

A week ago I was angry at mom,

venting, and feeling sorry for myself.

Today I'm feeling sad for her 

and I'm also proud of her.

Watching her get out of the bed

a day after surgery

and stand,

when all they asked was for her 

to sit up and dangle her feet.

That's one strong-ass woman!

She'll be fine after a month or two.

I come from good, 

strong, 

albeit flawed, 

stock.

 I know it.

Anyway,

all is well for now.

Take care,

and Sweet Dreams!

Love,

Annie

Photo by Veronica Minozzi

Missing Comments!

I have to apologize to those who follow me and whose comments have not been posted.

Blogger has changed its format.
It used to notify me when I had comments to moderate.
After two of my friends mentioned they had left comments (and I had not seen them), I began looking around.

I was surprised to find pages of comments today!
Going all the way back to the beginning of 2018!
I just figured nobody was reading or cared what I was writing.

Holy Smokes!

I've gone through and posted most of the comments.
I'll do my best to respond to the latest ones
and at least now I know where to find them.

Sorry about that.
Annie

Finding Forts

fort

/fôrt/

noun

...a fortified building or strategic position.

Since I was a child,

I've always felt the need

to have a place of my own,

a fort.

When I was a little girl,

I'd travel deep into the orange grove 

near our house.

I would climb high up into a tree,

and build a tree fort,

using scraps of wood and cardboard,

a place where I could sit, alone,

with a view all around me for safety,

and think my thoughts

or go on adventures in my own head.

I had another fort I built in tall grass

under some lemon trees

in an empty lot behind our house.

That one had a hole under the a lemon tree

where I could store magazines

and jars of snacks.

Another fort was in the middle of a corn field.

Another, in my grandparents' garage.

Still another place I loved to be alone

was in abandoned homes in old "Japanese Town,'

in Armona, California. 

These were houses behind my Aunt Vena's home,

the sad remains of those unfortunate families

who had been put into interment camps

during WWII,

and who had never returned.

Those houses looked much like this one,

an Ashiodozan Mining Town. 

When I was older, a teenager,

though I could not lock my bedroom door,

I did have a bathroom with a door that locked.

I'd wait until the house was quiet,

go into that bathroom,

lock the door,

and climb out the window.

Then I'd walk under the light of the stars

to one of my private forts

where I felt safer

than in the house of my mother and stepfather.

Lying on my back,

I would gaze deep into the starry heavens.

I'd dream of freedom

from the shame and pain and sorrow

that was my life.

I'd make up stories of a happy me,

traveling, finding people who loved me,

having children who I would cherish,

and seeing all the wonderful places

I would read about

in my red Children's Encyclopedia.

As an older teenager,

I'd walk down the dusty road to the riverbank,

drop my clothes,

and swim across to an island,

where I could be alone all day.

As an adult,

I've fought my way through failed relationships,

always breathing a sigh of relief

when the husband 

was finally gone,

and I could be alone

in my own space,

safe.

Now, in the last half of my life,

I'm still looking for a fort,

a girl cave,

a place I can be alone with my thoughts,

a place of my own.

For me now,

it is my van,

my cozy little cave of metal on wheels.

I feel very safe inside,

and sleep like a baby.

I'm feeling it's not quite big enough, though.

I want a place I can stand up and cook,

walk around,

maybe a motorhome,

maybe an apartment if I can find one 

that I can afford.

But a place of my own,

where I can unpack my treasures,

do my art,

listen to my music,

watch my tv shows,

write my stories,

and continue the journey of my healing.

I've been catching up on my programs this week 

while in Desert Hot Springs. 

One of those is a wonderful series called "This is Us."

Generally, I think of these shows as mindless entertainment.

But a character in an episode this morning

 made a statement

that caused me to pause the show, 

rewind, 

and watch again,

over and over and over.

What she said struck a chord.

The woman was trying to explain to her boyfriend 

why she wasn't unpacking her boxes. 

They had decided to live together 

but she kept procrastinating the unpacking process. 

He felt frustrated that his living room 
(HIS living room!) 

was littered with packed cardboard boxes 

he had to walk around.

She said,

"I had 3 locks on my apartment door in Chicago,

bars on the windows,

not because I was actually worried about 

someone breaking in,

but peace of mind was taken from me.

It's a lot for me to give up

my own safe space,

more than it is for most people,

and the idea of giving that up 

why I have never lived with anyone before."

She was speaking of her childhood abuse,

and the importance of having a safe space,

where she could lock the doors and windows

and feel protected,

feel peace of mind.

A place of her OWN,

where the peace she treasured 

could be enjoyed.

A fort.

My mind was blown.

I felt I had found the answer 

to an important question

about my own habit of 

NEEDING a place of my own.

A place of PEACE.

And it felt good to know

I'm not the only one who feels this.

A kindred spirit expressed a truth to me today.

Maybe television isn't completely mindless

because at least one writer

knew the secret.

Healing can be found in the strangest places. . . 

Oh yeah,
there are OTHER reasons I like to be alone:

Happy Trails,
Annie

IsHe - A Pet Portrait

Got back to Desert Hot Springs on Thursday.
I spent yesterday unpacking the van, doing laundry, and catching up on some of my favorite tv shows like THE VOICE and THE GOOD DOCTOR.

Today it was time to get back to work so I began a pet portrait of my friend, Gary's dog whose name is "IsHe."  This is pronounced like "Izzy" but is spelled this way I've HEARD because Gary rescued him as a puppy in Mexico and for a while wasn't sure "Is he gonna make it or not?" 

Ishe is a cool dog, laid back and friendly. I'm excited to do his portrait.

Here is the original I'm working from.

I am working mainly with colored pencils on pastelmat.

When I do a colored pencil drawing 

it takes several days.

First choose the background paper.

I've decided to use white pastelmat for Ishe,

adding a green and brown background 

with panpastels, later down the road.

Next I do the drawing.

I don't put in a lot of detail.

Just the basic outline 

and the directional strokes,

paying close attention to the eyes

and to the nose.

Next I work on the eyes.

This is my favorite part.

The eyes are the mirrors of the soul,

and in an animal,

can be the difference between

bringing it alive

or not.

Once the eyes are finished,

and sometimes after only one eye is finished,

 I begin doing what I call "colormapping."

This is using extremely light pressure,

to "map" where the various colors will go.

People think a white dog is white

and a black dog is black.

However, that is far from the truth.

Take Ishe, for instance.

If you look closely,

there is a LOT of greens and blues

and apricots in his coat.

His eyes are reflecting greens,

oranges, and reds,

perhaps from the field he was standing in.

It's a very slow process of layering,

and takes many hours, 

many days,

which is why I charge $150 for a portrait.

Of course, I could whip out something quick,

and actually have been thinking about doing that

for the future so people will have a choice.

I'd love to do quick rainbow wash portraits.

But for now,

I'm enjoying doing photorealistic work.

Stay tuned to see IsHe's final portrait in a few days.

Love,

Annie

Counting My Blessings

After experiencing a day of anger last week, 

I thought it was time to just take some time 

and count my blessings. 

I'm generally a very positive person. 

However, there are just some things 

that you bury deep inside 

that finally catch up with you. 

So the FIRST thing I'm grateful for 

is the ability to let loose and shout my shit

 to the world!  

It felt good to unburden myself! 

Thanks for listening 

and thank you for all the positive feedback 

and support I got from that post.

Today, as I watch the sun 

come up over the mountains, 

these are the things I'm thinking about:

I am so grateful ...

I woke up ALIVE! 

I'm so grateful for another day of life 

on this incredible planet!  

I'm grateful for my good health.

I'm grateful for my sweet, cozy little van, 

my little girl-cave, 

so warm and safe and dependable.

I am grateful I have eyes to see 

the beauty of the sunrise. 

Nothing amazes me more 

or starts my day out better 

than a hot cup of coffee in my hands 

while I watch the sun breaking the horizon. 

The clouds are fluffy, grey, white, blue, pink, 

and are moving swiftly to the north, 

and the skies are clear. 

It's going to be a sunny day 

and I'm so grateful for THAT 

after all the wind and rain.

I am grateful I have ears to hear 

the buzz of the hummingbird 

and the song of the coyote family 

singing in the distance. 

I am grateful I have a nose 

that can smell the sweetness of the desert 

after a rain. 

The creosote bushes are blooming, 

as is the entire desert, 

and the fragrance is hypnotizing. 

I am grateful for the sense of touch - 

that I can feel the warmth 

of my snuggly down comforter. 

It brings back memories 

of waking up in my grandparents' cold farmhouse, and not caring 

because I was engulfed in a foot 

of Ma's down featherbed. 

I miss that featherbed and that farm house 

and I sure miss my Ma and Pa. 

What a blessing it was to have had them in my life, along with all of my other grandparents.  

As I turn on my little Jet-boil 

to make my morning coffee, I'm grateful for it. 

This tiny contraption that sets up so easily 

and boils water in 30 seconds. 

It's so nice not to have to go out 

into the cold morning to heat water.  

The coffee smells so good and tastes even better. 

My mouth is watering 

as I think about cooking up linquica for breakfast, 

and I'm grateful for my sense of taste.

I'm so grateful for a loving family. 

My three wonderful sons!  

Even though we have our differences, 

we are a very close family, 

and I love that! 

We still get together for holidays,

and enjoy each others' company.

I know we will always be there for each other, 

to help each other get through life's trials, 

to love each other. 

They are all three good strong men, 

good providers, and good fathers, 

and I'm so very proud of them! 

I'm grateful for my daughter in laws 

and my son in law. 

All three love my sons deeply 

and they couldn't have chosen more loving, 

loyal partners to share their lives. 

I smile as I think about my grandchildren

 and how well they're coming up. 

Beautiful, bright, talented stars

who care about others, 

who are responsible and fun to be around. 

They make me so proud!

I'm grateful for my friends, 

especially the ones who continue 

to stick with me through the bumpy days 

of Multiple Chemical Sensitivities. 

It would take too long to list all of their names,

 but they know who they are. 

It can't be easy for them, I know, 

when I go from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde 

or act like I'm the Three Faces of Eve

during a chemical reaction. 

You must be of a certain age to understand this reference.

They just buckle up,

put on their armor 

and stand by and are there when I need them. 

I love them for that.  

I'm especially grateful for Joe #2. 

He is my ex-partner, 

but remains my closest and best friend. 

He's the one person in my life 

who understands this MCS condition 

more than any. 

He's lived through the fires of hell of it with me, 

and continues to stand by me. 

Even though we have our differences, 

and some days feel like oil and water,

except for my Pa,

he is the one man 

who has been the most constant in my life. 

Oh, he'll argue with me!  

We'll have angry words!  

But when the dust settles, he's still there.  

His friendship has been gold 

in a world of rust

and I treasure our friendship.

I'm grateful for my talents, 

some of which I didn't discover 

until I was in my 60's.  

I love drawing and painting. 

I love sewing and crocheting. 

I love taking old ugly dolls 

and turning them back into little girls. 

I love sculpting wool and clay. 

All of these crafts give me great pleasure. 

I'm grateful to Ma, my grandmother, 

for teaching me to sew and crochet 

and knit and quilt - she also loved crafting. 

 I am grateful for my fearless sense of adventure.  

I love traveling and exploring

 and I'm not afraid to go it alone. 

I ran away to Puerto Rico when I was 17.

I lived in the Caribbean for over 6 years.

I've seen much of Western Europe, 

often traveling or walking alone.

 I used to dream and sing of Faraway Places, 

and I've been blessed 

to have been able to see those places. 

I'm grateful for the sun that is FINALLY shining 

and warming my van after a long, cold, wet week. 

It feels so good!

I'm grateful for my friends 

in this van-dwelling community; 

for Nelda, and Jerry, and Vern, 

and Gary and Ishe, and Suanne, 

and Merle and Pickle, and Sassy, 

and Sally, and Lois, and Karylee  -- 

and all the others who give me 

support and suggestions when I ask - 

and who make me grin at their various adventures. 

I'm grateful for this blog, 

where I can document and share my adventures, 

my worries, my anger, my joy 

and for the people who follow. 

I'm grateful for my cold pillow, kitty fur, Data the Dog's soft ears, flannel pajamas, soft leather, my chenille houserobe, my feet in warm dirt or cool grass, a nice hot bath, my grandchild's soft skin, the heat of a nice sauna, a relaxing massage, the flowers on a Portland Spring day, cactus blooms, the smell of cows and of newly mown hay, my memories, all those grandparents, my cousins, genealogy, 

and my love of writing.

I'm grateful for myself!  

There are some good things about me!

I know who I am!

I am a treasured daughter of God!

I have a nice smile!  

I don't hold on to grudges; 

I forgive and forget. 

I help people whenever I can. 

I have a good sense of humor. 

I am honest in my dealings with others. 

I am very brave. 

I am loyal. 

I share what I have with others. 

I do my best to be a positive person.

And above all, 

I LOVE. 

I love deeply and strongly 

and if I love you, you feel it.

This has been a great exercise for me.

My Ma used to sing a song,

"Count your blessings, name them one by one!"

You should try it.

It feels GREAT!

Life is good, don't you think?

Happy Trails,

Annie

Making Biscuits at Walmart

My back yard is Walmart in Carlsbad tonight because I'm trying to save gas and didn't want to drive all the way back out to the lake. Tomorrow at first light I'm going to drive to Carlsbad Caverns, about 30 minutes away and Walmart saved me quite a few miles.

Last year, I sold my little butane stove to Merle and this week I was sorry. It's been so windy and cold, it's difficult to set up my kitchen and cook outdoors. So when I found a little stove on sale at Big 5 for $24.00, I jumped at the chance to nab it.

So here I am sitting in my van in the Walmart parking lot, and after going through my food to see if I needed groceries, I found a small can of biscuits (which I bought during a weak moment needing comfort food) had POPPED open!  Given the choice of tossing it or using it, of course, I decided to cook those puppies!

With my wee stove, a skillet and the help of a mortar (from a mortar and pestle set), I made a little oven and my biscuits are turning out just fine!  I learned how to make an oven like this as a child, camping on the river with my father. I once made an entire pineapple upside down cake over an open fire, using a gold pan propped up with a tent stake. And I often bake cookies over a camp fire.

Here's my oven!  The fire is on as low as I can get it.

Someone on Facebook asked how I make the biscuits. 

Usually I'd make them from scratch, 

but I had this small can of dough,

so I just pulled each one off 

and flattened it,

pulling it out like you would fry bread,

into a small pancake.

Then I just put it on my hot skillet and cover it.

I check it every few minutes and turn it often,

maybe 5 or even 6 times,

until it's nice and brown 

and done in the middle.

And then...

it's butter and Cherry Preserves time!

I bought this when I drove over Cloudcroft.

YUM!

Bet you wish you were here!

Can you smell 'em?

Love,

Annie

Day 6 - Truth or Consequences and White Sands

This morning I drove into Truth or Consequences for a quick peek and breakfast. If a person is interested in buying antiques, jewelry, art, or soaking in hot springs water, then it's a VERY cool place. I'm really not interested in any of those, and so after a drive through to see all the old buildings and artsy village, I looked for food.

I won't name this restaurant, because the waitress didn't make me pay, but holy hell, they need to hire a new cook!  I ordered chicken fried steak. It came looking ok.. like this:

I took a bite. 

Tasted charred.

Took a second bite.

Tasted BURNT!

I turned the steak over and the bottom was absolutely BLACK.

I scraped the skin off and it was raw in the middle.

YUCK!

So I told the waitress I couldn't eat it.

She agreed.

She asked if I wanted anything else.

I said no.

My son, a chef, has warned me not to send food back.

You wouldn't believe what some cooks will do.

So she told me not to pay and I left.

I headed down the road for White Sands. 

I made a quick stop at the Walmart in Las Cruces.

I had to buy ice and oil.

My van is sucking oil.

Not sure why, but I just keep filling it.

White Sands National Monument was BEAUTIFUL!

I got in free with my America the Beautiful card.

After touring the visitor's center,

I took the 16 mile round trip drive into the sands,

stopping to take a couple of hikes.

Here are some photos...

From White Sands, I drove to Brantley Lake State Park.

It was full, so I spent the night in the day use area.

I'll go back today to spend a couple of days,

waiting for the sunshine to return.

Expecting two days of stormy winds.

Today I need to do laundry and if it's not too windy, 

to clean out the van.

I may wait until it warms up.

We'll see.

This morning, I drove into town (Carslbad) 

to use the internet at Starbucks

and to catch up on my blog and email.

It's overcast and 56 degrees out there. 

Not bad without the wind.

Maybe I'll go see the caves ...

Stay tuned,

Annie