Let’s Review
It seems, on balance, that July was somewhat challenging. Also very rewarding and containing not a few of those every day miracles that take your breath away. Of course, if you’re driving, you gotta watch that in intersections.
I think times are hard, Gentle Reader. We’re heading for a leap of faith that would be nice if done by all of us together. The old ways are becoming less and less workable and although one swings between excitement at the adventure and eye watering horror we’re clearly on the bullet train here.
Meanwhile, I have a new tag. NIGHT ON CUSTOMER SERVICE MOUNTAIN. Yesterday, it took me two and a half hours to get the shopping cart button on my website to work. Calls to webhost, calls to payment company, I’m telling you it was arduous. But what I learned is this. Those shopping cart buttons? Unless you have completely programmed every single thing on your website yourself? Only work at the simplest common denominator. What this means in practical terms is: Don’t calculate your mailing costs by weight unless you want all that voluminous info on both your website and your pay site. This really is fun. But at the end of the line, the company who WAS responsible for this problem kept refusing to TAKE responsibility, indeed probably hoped I’d just go away. I consider it a small personal triumph that I finally got it wrestled to the ground. And, for you other small entities out there, a cautionary tale. Which is worth telling because I noticed the same issue on a website this morning when I ordered something. *sigh*
On a brighter note, I inadvertently found an easy way to make carnitas. One of my favorite things! Carnitas! The answer? A slow cooker. And a piece of pork called a “cushion”. Put a bit of oil on bottom of cooker, put one sliced onion, and whatever else you want, carrots, cilantro, etc. Lay pork on onion, drizzle with oil, sprinkle with whatever spice mix you like (cumin, say), perhaps some citrus juice, pepper, salt, another drizzle of oil. Then add scant half cup of liquid (I use wine) (naturally). Turn on, let it mind it’s own business all day, and there you have it.
Now, on to more fun. Smile!
Um, One More Thing
OK. Now we’re reading about small business defaults and problems. This makes me crazier than baseball.
As an attempted small business owner, when I read that Bank of America is having a problem because out of the billions they got, 2 million in SBA loans have not been recoverable…I turn red. SBA loans for small businesses in places like, say, Biloxi and New Orleans where the funds are desperately needed and unlikely to be repaid in five years…why don’t THEY get terms restructured? Give those people a goddam break. The credit card companies and Banks certainly get to restructure terms whenever they feel like it. They got billions of dollars which will never be accounted for in all likelihood. But if you, the individual, can’t pull money out of the air for a quick repayment, you can’t get a loan. Which if you could you wouldn’t be borrowing money, would you? If, as statistics show, small businesses account for a very large percentage of jobs in this country, wouldn’t you think some sensible structuring of funding would be a Good Idea? Like, here’s a startup loan with a ten year repayment plan given the deep hole we’re all in? Get a freaking grip. Grrrr.
Well. Remember to smile. Really.
Another Week
Here we are again. Thankfully, really. Things to do, plans to execute. However. Elephants are dying of thirst in Kenya. There’s algae in Arctic waters. There’s all the ridiculousness of every single thing, every day. Like website weirdnesses, supply snafus and disappearances…just…ALL of it. Not to mention, more Sarah Palin.
I guess what’s eating me these days is this. I wonder if this pain in my chest will ever go away. I’m starting to think maybe it won’t. We were talking over the weekend about how everyone is so focussed on doing just what it takes to get through a day and disregarding whatever else is in front of them, and how that relates to the ever rising stress levels in society and the world and probably, heck, out in space. What a thought! We’re polluting the cosmos with bad vibes. As much as I work toward calm and balance I still am hounded, in a way, by the suffering I “feel” going on all around me. The trick is balancing that awareness with the resoluteness it takes to do the work before one at any given time. Whatever it may be. Brain surgery, washing the dishes, or walking down the sidewalk and not acting as though you, and only you, are there.
I read an interview with Julia Butterfly Hill, of tree sitting fame. She said she was deluged with feelings of pain from all around her and while that informs her work it is also exhausting. At first I thought, uh, let’s see here…But then I thought, this is, in fact, so. And you HAVE to let it inform your work to be of service to others, which I believe is Why We’re Here. But it is difficult, and it is difficult not to try to not feel that discord and whatever it is. The collapse of one’s emotional infrastructure does not lead anywhere productive. And one must take heart from the good work people are doing all over, often unnoticed and unremarked. Maintain a sense of humor and all. But sometimes it just reduces me to tears. However, I carry on. The Dalai Lama said one simple way to reduce suffering in the world was to smile, and that really is true. Tootles. And smile!
We’re Feeling Better
Oh, Gentle Reader. That total solar eclipse was hard on us here at Casa Boozilla. Dark Night of the Soul and all the rest of it, as Krishnamurti used to say. Still, we managed to get through it with only a slight headache to show for our efforts.
However. Grace does come to us periodically. After a long, sleepless and overwrought night, I took my client to a doctor visit yesterday. I am not a twig (anymore) but also? I am not ginormous. Or tall. So horsing an almost six foot tall, 150 pound man in a 50 pound wheelchair up hill and down dale is something of an accomplishment. While I sat there waiting, snuffling a tiny bit, reading SACRED SCIENCE OF NUMBERS by C. Helene (very interesting, actually), and pondering the frailty of the human condition suddenly I heard music. It was COLTRANE. In a little hospital outpatient doctor visit space. John Coltrane. It was, to me, like hearing a divine emanation. Honey and beauty. A reminder that however it may look right now, the plan is in process, magic is afoot, and it is, indeed and nonetheless, a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.
Leaving the metaphysics of redemption aside, I also returned to the kitchen. I can give a ringing endorsement to Mark Bittman’s HOW TO COOK EVERYTHING VEGETARIAN. The thai style corn pancakes are fantastic. Easy. The homemade cheese is pretty good too, certainly lots of possiblities there including grilling (yes!) and just at last having some decent queso fresco. We were making it, Partner said, yes, but what kind of cheese IS this? Well, I said, it’s queso fresco, or fromage blanc. Which means, fresh cheese or white cheese, respectively. See? The poor man has to put up with alot.
Then there are, of course, the things one reads in the news. I was so furious after reading the California Budget “resolution” I actually had to go outside and kick a can. (Since it ws garbage day there was actually quite a selection of detritus strewn around on the sidewalk, including a particularly unsavory looking sausage, which apparently had been extracted from said garbage and then rejected by a raccoon.) Tobacco and Oil get their way, and the people who need help getting on their feet, need home care, and need to go to school? Tough tootie, folks. But offshore drilling and no taxes for you poor oil companies? And no increased taxes for you other large corporate interests? Just what’s fair. The arrest of Henry Louis Gates was downright weird, too. The realization that there really are so many, still, in this country, who don’t acknowledge the realities of racism (and sexism) is mind boggling. Had Gates been a white Harvard professor, none of this would have happened. It is hard to grasp that a policeman in that area would fail to recognize Gates. I mean: The man is famous! He’s been on TV LOTS. What is this? Plus..well. The whole thing is more than unsettling. I don’t think any of us have the time left to take this giant leap backward.
Meanwhile, the quotidian beckons and sometimes that is all there is. We are cautiously optimistic, too. After all, the A’s won a game last night. Big time. We’re happy.
The Last Straw
I read an article in today’s S.F. Chronicle by Ray Ratto (LOVE HIM) concerning my beloved baseball team, the Oakland Athletics. I’m sick at heart but the mounting sense I’ve had that something is deeply wrong but maybe I’m crazy finally emerged from the murky realms of not knowing. Darkness is indeed afoot. I am dumbfounded by the perfidy of it all.
The A’s are having a rotten season. Rotten. The Partner and I, and many of my friends, have been watching them, feeling uneasy, wondering what on earth is going on. Well, NOW I KNOW. Ratto’s article prompted me to do some research on the A’s owner, John Fisher. Whaddaya know. This guy is a conservative Republican from way back, part of the special group of people who have, whether you want to admit it or not, brought us to this freefall into the toilet we’re calling the economy, and the society. Take the money, provide nothing. California has been being run by these people and you can see, if you read the news, where that has gotten us. It is ugly. I am a native Californian and can not believe my eyes. Anyway, this guy even abuses the land he owns up north and logs. Take the logs, take the money. Retreat to your multi-million dollar home and spend, spend, spend. Meanwhile, the team is without guidance and foundation, because it has an owner who thinks about one thing. Money. He has had some idea (using the term idea very loosely) that they should move to San Jose. Why? Those high rolling money days are over…but perhaps he doesn’t know that, being one of the few hundred richest people IN THE WORLD. The team has been in Oakland for a long time. Had a marvelous history. Has a great and loyal fan base. But, uh oh. The fans aren’t rich! OOOOOOOOH. They are, alot of them, what used to be called middle, and also working, class people. ’Cept excuse me, that doesn’t exist anymore much around here. I guess he reckons that, well, Silicon Valley! Rich people! and some other things I’m not going to go into, but….Oakland! Poor people! No brainer! Move the team to the rich people place! yesssssss!
Except, no. The A’s are rapidly becoming one of the worst teams in the Majors. They don’t deserve that. We don’t deserve that. My vote? We need new ownership, new leadership, new management. Meantime, the owners we do have need to try and learn how to be human beings and have respect for the game of baseball and those who play it. And for the fans, who basically keep them, the owners, in the chips. Lest we forget.
TGIF
Really. I made it, once again. Or almost. The day’s not over, let’s be honest. But we live in hope. One of my clients has another acronym I like: So Happy It’s Thursday. That was quite apropos yesterday when I Did Battle With A Bank. Of course they won, but to directly experience the way things are getting done now is completely mind boggling. Just another element in this week that kept it feeling like a cross between being dragged behind the bumper of a speeding car and finally Seeing the Light.
The fun part of the week was deciding to be ordained through the Universal Life Church. You may now refer to me as Reverend Boozilla Mom, Gentle Reader. I can’t really explain why I did this, except that a big part of what I do is, in fact, about the life of the spirit, I am Decidedly Non-Denominational (as in not particularly one thing or another but some of all perhaps), and it (uh…see below) Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time. So far, it appears to have increased my patience quota by a tad. So, that’s good. A news flash just coming in, adding to the fun part of the week, is that We Have Tomatoes in our garden. THAT really IS good news.
The not fun part of the week was, of course, the Banking Part. Net net, I attempted to do some post towel-throw-in (see below) refinancing. A minor sort of refinancing, in truth, but something that would help Team Boozilla make it through these “financially challenging times.” Did not get what I asked for. Did not get what I wanted. Did not receive any communication from The Bank in Question about my application. Received, in fact, bupkiss from them. That is, until what to my wondering eyes should appear on my online banking statement but a strange transaction that could only be related to the Attempted Refinance. I think I did very well on the phone call, really. Especially seeing as how I know the JERK individual I finished the interlude on the phone with was probably making a higher hourly wage than I ever did as Slave Girl of the Divorce Court. I know this how? I know someone who just got a job with a bailed out bank and is making a quite astonishingly goodly and high hourly wage, is how. So, after smarmily telling me that yes, it WOULD be nice if the bank communicated with me about my application and told me what the —- they were doing, and that SHOULD be what they do,nono, just, no, that isn’t what they do. And of course they couldn’t give me what I asked for. Oh, please. Pretend you’re in front of the big library in Manhattan, the one with the lions? And the charming young man with a card table and three cups with dice under them? And besides, what are banks for AFTER ALL. Get.A.Grip. So, net net again, there is a very tiny overall improvement with this new situation, with which I am trying to remain calm in the knowledge..uh…thereof. I very much enjoyed the portion of our chat where I asked if I was going to have to pay for the call. Well, yes, usually you have to “pay for the call when you talk to a human.” Not, however, apparently this time. Which just confirmed my overall sense of where the whole thing was going. I think you know where that is.
Meanwhile, we are going to have a garage sale this weekend. More like an earring sale, actually. So it was odd going through all those old earrings and inadvertently reliving the occasions when I wore them. I think it is best to just keep going in life, and not dwell on the past. I’m hoping my collection will make its way out into the world and bring others the enjoyment it brought me. There will also be some Sasha of London shoes, if you’re in the neighborhood! Beaded high heeled boots, people. Indeed, I was not always as you see me now. The tomatoes help, though, in those tough moments when I think about the shoes I used to know.
Eclipses
Personally, I believe there is cosmic (as in solar system, cosmos, galaxies and beyond) energy affecting us all, Gentle Reader. However one wishes to describe it, what words are used, it is still there. There was a total lunar eclipse yesterday and it seemed to have some mighty powerful energy.
In short, lots of blog fodder, really. Take Michael Jackson’s memorial service. To me it seemed like an incredible example of something that could be interpreted in a wide range of ways. Physics has demonstrated that the observer does influence what they are observing. So everyone’s reality contributes to what we all see, in a way. Apparently Bill O’Reilly missed the point as he so often seems to, but my feeling is that his viewpoint didn’t skew the entire vision. Leastways I hope so. Michael Jackson was an exceptionally talented individual who was eaten alive by the demands of his life. We all experience huge challenges and difficulties and want to get away from the pain of it, don’t we? It struck me, watching the service, that good is something that appears with an array of attributes, while evil is quite uniform. Hannah Arendt wrote that evil is ultimately quite banal, and I agree. Michael Jackson really was deeply good, although it is easy enough to pick apart his life choices without applying any compassion or real understanding and pretend to be able to judge. So the good here was presented in a very large, pretty mixed bag. But think about the uniformity of the evil we see every day. The bland even tones of corporate power holders we see chatting away from Sun Valley. The smooth way lies are told that cost the earth in lives and integrity. The financial news is a good example of banality in action, and thus evil, to my mind. Anyway perhaps I digress.
Then we have baseball. I got a postcard advertisement yesterday from a place in Georgia, because I have an alternative medicine practice I suppose. But. Call an 800 number, and in the mail you can get all the stuff, and more, that got Manny Ramirez suspended for 50 games. I showed this to the Partner and he slapped his forehead and said, how can this be??? It’s not illegal, said I. So what gives, really? If the people who on some level really do need the support of these hormonal aids can’t use them….who are they for? And if all you have to do is call an 800 number and get the stuff in a nasal spray….I am confused. Once again. Either this stuff is OK or it isn’t. I find it interesting, to say the least, that the FDA can wade in on all kinds of things and freak out about them, like tryptophan for example, yet stuff like this is so easy to get a child could do it. Or a caveman. Yet it is supposed to be Very Bad Stuff. I think this is all spelled m-o-n-e-y. Maybe.
Then there’s just daily life. I visited my client in the skilled nursing facility yesterday. I usually say hi to everyone, just because. Usually there are several people to say hi to, sitting in the hallway in their wheelchairs, among whom is a lady, Madame, we’ll call her. For nine months I’ve been going in there almost every day to visit my client, and saying hi. Yesterday the hallway smelled just foully murderous. Someone had apparently had a bathroom related accident and the smell was, temporarily, enough to knock you down and keep you pinned. I was focussing on not throwing up when I saw a hand reach toward me. It was Madame. She reached for me, held my hand, and told me I was a beautiful and good person. And she is not like Senorita, who reaches for you and then makes you sing along with her just because. Madame actually pays a level of attention. This was the first time she had ever acknowledged my existence. It was quite an astonishing experience.
So today, post eclipse, there are rumblings and shortouts and digestions of it all, crabbiness and woolgathering, but also exciting duckling sightings. And that cosmic, shall we say, energy surrounds us, rains down on us, all the time. Maybe we should pay more attention, so that when it does all hit at once, like yesterday, we don’t find ourselves dissolving in tears. Like yesterday. On the positive side, apart from the revelations? Nothing exploded when I made dinner. I call that progress.
Solar Storms
The Fourth of July is always quite the thing here. We live right on the parade route. Our next door neighbor has his major party of the year on the Fourth, too, complete with Enormous Professional Musician Sound System and lots of people and vodka. This year, besides the extra fun of the Fire Arts people doing their explosion performance (where? Must you ask, Gentle Reader? WHERE DO YOU THINK THEY DID IT? ) in front of the Driveway From Hell, aka My Driveway, we also had The Guy In Back deciding to put in his two cents about the decibel level by pointing HIS “sound system” directly at our fence and thus indirectly at Party Central, and cranking it all the way up. Let me tell you, it was special. But, once I did enough deep breathing to realize that there was indeed a spot on the driveway where I could stand and just be vibrated through by all the sound, it was really fine and actually a lot of fun. On with hearing loss. The street is closed for the major part of the day so unless we want to leave at 5 a.m. which we always vow to do and then don’t, we’re kind of stuck in wall to wall people and cacophony. The two year old next door decided he didn’t care a fig about the parade either except the brief horse appearance, and spent most of his time pottering around our garden with the Partner, having discovered how to work our water hose and also the joys of watering cans. He’s already mastered the garage door opener and we spent quite some time watching him open and close the door. We assumed he was cackling with laughter as usual in these cases: It looked like it, but since you couldn’t hear yourself think, there was no ability or need to talk. It was oddly restful.
However, we did see two solar flares. Split second huge brightness followed by a blast of blistering heat. Nobody but us seemed to notice. But I think there WAS something to it, as the day was oddly enervating and I didn’t see a single person without a sunburn, which is somewhat unusual among this sunblock conscious crowd.
I made couscous (nice! sweated shallots and bell peppers before adding the water to boil the couscous in) among other things for dinner that night, which…well. I was quite happy with the unintentionally lovely shape the leftovers took on, unmolded the whole thing onto a plate last night to reheat in the microwave. And? voila. It exploded. So that’s how I know a) there WERE solar flares and b) try as I might to improve myself, nothing has really changed. Tootles.
