Journal of an Urbane Gorilla

Always a cool kid

I was wandering through the living room. Grams was scanning old photos into her laptop. I looked over her shoulder and saw this photo. "See, Gweeds, I was always a cool kid! I was, as ever, so hip it hurts" I've got to admit it, she was a cool kid.

The picture was taken in San Francisco, near the Palace of Fine Arts. We met in San Francisco, so it has a special place in my heart. Hope you had a good Valentine's Day.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

When life hands you lemons . . .

The day started out without much promise. It was foggy again. Grams talked me into riding in her basket on her bike (yes, I’m a fool). This time we went up the highway all the way to the old gas station. This station was built in the early part of the last century. It’s that classic phoney baloney Spanish style that proliferates throughout Santa Tourista. Of course, this is out in the sticks, far from the hubbub of the big city of ST. I love this building. It’s supposed to have been restored, but that was promised years ago and nothing has happened yet.

We had delicious chili for lunch and then headed off to the Lemon Festival. Lemons used to be a big crop in Santa Tourista. Naturally, the trees were mostly cut down and replaced by homes a long time ago. So, every year the locals celebrate the memory of the lemons with a festival. There’re lemon bars, lemon pie, lemonade, lemon beer, lemon ice cream, lemon pizza: well, you get the drift.

We usually go to see our neighbour’s daughter dance. She is a Spanish dancer. She also plays the saxophone and the piano. So, we sit on bales of hay and yell, “Ole!” and clap madly. That's her.

Yes, I had a lemon bar and it was so very good.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Happy, happy birthday babies*

My, my, my, time does fly. The 19th of October is the twin’s birthday: the ‘twins’ being Grams’ two older kiddlets. That picture of them is from a silkscreen Grams did for Christmas cards when they were 1 ½ years old. I’ve been sworn to secrecy about their age currently (not by them, by Grams!). All I can say is that the one on the right, affectionately referred to as ‘Buckets’ by Grams, is now an assistant U.S. Attorney. The one on the left, affectionately referred to as ‘Rockets’ by Grams has a degree in social work and is the mum of Andrea and Grant (often affectionately referred to here as ‘Andie’ and ‘Bean’).

Obviously, the twins aren’t identical. Buckets is now 5’4” and Rockets is 5’8.” I could go on, but the differences aren’t important. They’re twins and so they’re joined at the hip. They even had their own secret language when they were little. They still talk to each other every day, and I’ll bet they still have some secret words.

As to Grams, her favourite saying these days is, “I’m an old woman, I got confused!” I should be so confused: she still does the N.Y. Times crossword in ink.** I wish that she’d make a cake for their birthday, even though they won’t be here, I'd enjoy it. Then, three days later, it’s Bean’s birthday. He’s going to be a big 2-year old. I’m starting feel a little old myself.

So Happy Birthday babies – have one on me.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

*Happy, happy birthday, baby
Although you're with somebody new
Thought I'd drop a line to say
That I wish this happy day
Would find me beside you

Happy, happy birthday, baby
No I can't call you my baby
Seems like years ago we met
On a day I can't forget
'Cause that's when we fell in love

Do you remember the names we had for each other
I was your pretty, you were my baby
How could we say goodbye

Hope I didn't spoil your birthday
I'm not acting like a lady
So I'll close this note to you
With good luck and wishes too
Happy, happy birthday, baby

**In the interest of full disclosure: she does this Monday-Thursday. She switches to pencil the rest of the week.

Food, glorious food!*

I was on my way to my laptop to write a post about carousels in Paris and Florence, when I passed by la cocina. Well, actually I kind of floated toward the cocina because I smelled chili. Now, I’ve probably mentioned that Grams makes the best chili in the world, and if I haven’t, now I have.

Here’s how she gets that beautiful red colour: it’s the chili! That’s right, there’s no tomato sauce in Grams’ chili: it’s all ground chili. Is it hot? Hah! Just what do you think that bear does in the woods? (maybe that’s not an apt comparison) She makes a kind of béchamel with the ground chili. Eating it makes my eyes water and nose run. I know that it cures the common cold. Hoo-boy! It is good!

I pulled up a step stool next to the stove and stood on it. Then, I sang to her:

I'd do anything,
For you, dear, anything,
For you mean everything to me.
I know that
I'd go anywhere,
For your smile, anywhere,
For your smile everywhere I'd see.

“Well, Gweeds you came just in time, as usual,” she laughed. I’m about to add the textured soy protein (t.s.p.).” She tells everyone else that it’s chicken, but I know that it’s not. That’s because I’m a vegan, and she understands my needs.

I made her wait while I went to get my camera. Then I took a photo of the chili itself, because the sauce was so beautiful. After she added the t.s.p. and I took the second pic. But, it wasn’t ready yet. It had to cook for a while longer. Something about reduction and smoothness. Whatever it is, it’s delish!

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

*Food, glorious food!
Eat right through the menu.
Just loosen your belt
Two inches and then you
Work up a new appetite.
In this interlude --
Then food,
Once again, food
Fabulous food,
Glorious food!
-both songs are from “Oliver,” but you knew that, right?

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road*

She’s going to kill me, but I just couldn’t resist posting this photo. The other day Grams was going through the California Digital Library (through the UC) looking at old newspapers. Big Guy said, “Put your name in and see what comes up.” “There’ll probably be some letters to the editor that I wrote a long time ago, that’ll be boring,” she shrugged.

Well, surprise, surprise, the letters to the editor were there, but there was also this little gem from (how can I say this in a diplomatic way?) a while ago (in a land far, far away).

Grams was 11 years old and away at summer camp. The newspaper came to take pictures. “Look at that! We’re supposed to be roasting wieners, but there’s no fire!” she laughed. I asked her if she remembered the picture. “Oh sure! I can remember the moment it was taken. That was my 2nd year at that camp. I used to have a copy of that picture, but it been lost long ago.”

“What do you remember most about camp?” I asked. “The orange juice and the peanut butter. They both tasted like the tins they came in. I hated them!” she laughed. “I made a key chain with some plastic stuff that I braided. It was hot,” she sighed, “it was any awfully long time ago, Gweeds. Well, those were my 15 seconds” "Seconds? I thought it was it was minutes." She laughed, "in my case it was seconds."

I took the liberty of drawing a circle around Grams. She had a great set of gams, even back then. She’s still all legs. Of course the rest is a little lower than it used to be. She says that’s gravity. I say, she's a force of nature.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Good Riddance
Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
-Green Day

Buon compleanno, Principessa!

Yes, it’s the Principessa’s birthday. Isn’t she gorgeous? The day I took this picture, we had been caught in a sudden rain storm in Lucca, Italy. While waiting for the weather to clear, we dipped into a little café and had espressos.

I was very especially grateful to have the Principessa with us that day. You see Grams can get by in Italian, but the Principessa is fluent. She found us the best restaurante for our mid-day meal. Totally local, totally delicious.

Ti amo, Principessa. Potete avere tutto che vogliate. Ciao, ragazza piccolo.




And just for you today, Brown-eyed girl:


Hey where did we go,
Days when the rains came
Down in the hollow,
Playin' a new game,
Laughing and a running hey, hey
Skipping and a jumping
In the misty morning fog with
Our hearts a thumpin' and you
My brown eyed girl,
You my brown eyed girl.

Whatever happened
To Tuesday and so slow
Going down the old mine
With a transistor radio
Standing in the sunlight laughing,
Hiding behind a rainbow's wall,
Slipping and sliding
All along the water fall, with you
My brown eyed girl,
You my brown eyed girl.

Do you remember when we used to sing,
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da

So hard to find my way,
Now that I'm all on my own.
I saw you just the other day,
My how you have grown,
Cast my memory back there, Lord
Sometime I'm overcome thinking 'bout
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium with you
My brown eyed girl
You my brown eyed girl

Do you remember when we used to sing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da.
-Van Morrison

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Si es la vida, la vida loca

I am in deep deep trouble. Grams took one look at the photo I posted the other day and gave me the ‘look.’ “I look so serious, as if I never laughed! And you make me sound like some sort of wino! Good grief!”

So, I went back and looked at those photos again. There are some pretty funny ones. Evidently, the longer they sat, the sillier they got. So, here are a couple more. She can’t complain now.

I also realize that I haven’t mentioned Grams’ new ‘do.’ You’ll remember that she got in a mood and asked Masaye to cut her hair way short. It’s taken me this long to get used to it. It actually does look pretty good, but I realized something when I looked at these photos again: it’s not that different now. It’s a little longer and definitely styled this time around, but definitely short.

Our boys’ day in yesterday went very well. Well, that is until we got hungry. Big Guy just doesn’t make grilled cheese sandwiches as good as Grams. He does try, but she has some secret formula. But we did get in some serious belches. Ah, life is good.

Back to travel commentary this week. My wanderlust is coming back.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Chones, ceegars, and frogs

We put Grams on the train this morning. She’s going down the coast to see her Mama (you know, the one who calls me “Fuzzy Miscreant” and whom I address as “Hey, Old Lady!”). They are having a “girls” day out. Grams, AKA the Queen of Everything, had her 'we'Pod in her ears and she was listening to the Austin Lounge Lizards and laughing (if you've never heard "Jesus loves me, but he can't stand you,"* you need to). Just hope she doesn't start singing out loud on the train.

Yesterday, she made some chili rojo con pollo - well, when I pulled the stool over and looked at it she told me that it was textured soy protein but it sure looked like pollo to me. Did I ever mention that she makes the best chili in the world? The red in her chili comes from ground chili, none of this tomato-coloured chili for Grams. And it's hot! She says that if chili doesn't clear out your sinus', it's not chili. I think that she took the leftovers with her this morning.

Well, we’re having our “guys” day in. We’re going to sit around in our chones and have a couple of 'ceegars.' We’re going to do guy stuff: watch baseball and football and eat from the fridge. I think that I might squeeze in a Guinness or two. Then, we’re going to belch a lot.

A Grams-free day. No harping on cleaning up my room. No noisy vacuum ruining the last inning of the big game. No turning on the ceiling fan if I step on a “frog” or two. Oh yeah, this is going to be a good day.

Of course, we’ll have to get our own lunch. I do like the way she puts double cheese on my grilled cheese sandwiches. And I guess I’ll have to hang up my towel if I want it to be dry tomorrow. Hope I remember to brush my teeth. Gee, I’m starting to kind of miss her. I wonder if Big Guy will massage my toesies? Probably not.

Well, it’s only for 16 hours, 16 long hours.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

*Jesus Loves Me, But He Can't Stand You

I know you smoke, I know you drink that brew
I just can't abide a sinner like you
God can't either, that's why I know it to be true that
Jesus loves me--but he can't stand you

I'm going to heaven, boys, when I die
'Cause I've crossed every "t" and I've dotted every "i'
My preacher tell me that I'm God's kind of guy; that's why
Jesus loves me--but you're gonna fry

God loves all his children, by gum
That don't mean he won't incinerate some
Can't you feel those hot flames licking you
Woo woo woo

I'm raising my kids in a righteous way
So don't be sending your kids over to my house to play
Yours'll grow up stoned, left-leaning, and gay; I know
Jesus told me on the phone today

Jesus loves me, this I know
And he told me where you're gonna go
There's lots of room for your kind down below
Whoa whoa whoa

Jesus loves me but he can't stand you . . .

A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and . . .

My Birthday Alarm popped up on my computer the other day with a first reminder that Meg’s birthday is coming up next week. Meg is Henri’s Mama. She’s also the little girl on the floor with her chin cupped in her hands making the funny face in the photo. She was about 5 years old in the photo. Next week she’ll be 36.

When I mentioned this milestone to Grams she said, “YE GAWDS AND LITTLE FISHES!!! When did that happen?!?” You see, when Grams dreams about her children; they’re still little. She doesn’t consciously think of them that way, but she does hold them close to her heart that way. They’re still her little girls.

Of course, times change. The one standing in the photo, ‘Bekah, is now an assistant U.S. Attorney. The one sitting up, mouth agape is Rachel. She’s the mummy of Andie and Bean. She has a degree in social work. And the little one is Meg. She has a degree in Italian Folklore (don’t get Grams started on that one), and is, of course, the mummy of Henri.

The photo was one of a series taken by their then-neighbour, Gene Cheltenham. He’s an artist and he was teaching himself photography. Every once in a while he’d ask Grams and/or the kiddies to sit for him so he could practice lighting techniques. If he had them all there, he had to provide Grams with a glass of wine, well a few glasses of wine.

Now if she starts thinking about how Meg will be 36 in a week; then she will naturally think about how Rachel and Rebekah will be 38 in a month. Let’s see, that would make Grams . . . I think that I’d better go fix her a Key Lime martini.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

It had me low, and it had me down

I didn’t accept it until today. Big Guy and Grams had recognized the reality a while ago, but I was in my usual state of denial. Yes, mes amis, I must admit that it is autumn. It’s been so foggy the past few mornings that I can’t see to the end of the block. It clears up around noon, but then comes rolling back in around 2 or 3 p.m.

Now, I am an equatorial being: the further I’m from the equator, the less comfortable I am. And, I do suffer to live here in Santa Tourista. People think that life here is easy and sunny all-year ‘round. But, no, most of the year it’s foggy, foggy, foggy. Did you ever see the movie, “The Fog”? Well, I did, and it was scary. I just know that there’s something out there in the fog waiting to get me. It makes me queasy behind the kneesies. To make it worse, Grams sleeps with the window open year 'round. Even though she's down the hall from me, I have to pull my duvet over my head to stay warm. In the morning, if I peek out my window and can’t see the mountains, I crawl back under my covers.

This tactic usually spares me from the morning bike ride with Grams. Maniac that she is, she’ll head off into the fog and go to work (I’d call in sick, if I were her). She called us when she got to the library yesterday, and she said that her glasses were covered with a foggy mist. Get this: she was laughing when she said this. I practically choked on my morning banana. Big Guy just shook his head.

So, in the afternoon as I was peering out the upstairs balcony window, I heard Grams call my name. I bopped downstairs and there she was with a package. “This is for you, Gweeds!” Ooooh, what could it be? I ripped it opened (I’ve never been one to genteelly open presents. Rip it open, I say). Inside there were 2 books for me. These are new versions of the legend of the Monkey King. Yes, I know that I have many versions, but these are picture books.

One was the beginning of the fable and the other was the wonderful story of how the Monkey King wreaked havoc in Jade Heaven. Best of all, the drawings are based on a Chinese film that we had seen. I was holding two little rays of sunshine in my hands.

Why is it that Grams always knows what will cheer me up? Well, it may have something to do with my annual autumnal depression. One year she got me a sun lamp. It’s best that we don’t discuss that one. Anyway, here I am sitting in the rocking chair in my bedroom. I know that beyond the curtains, there is fog out there, but I don’t care: the Monkey King is eating all the peaches of immortality in Jade Heaven and I’m definitely in my happy place.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)