Journal of an Urbane Gorilla

The Gweeds is in the house

Well, here I am in Santa Fe - my new home. The Grams said that it was in the mountains; which appeals to me since I am a mountain gorilla. However, she failed to mention that it was the mountains in a high desert. Harumph! She insists that all will be well once I have a banana dacquiri in hand and i'm watching the sun setting on the Sandias and Ortiz mountains. We'll see.

The trip here was wild and wooly. First, there was the Mojave. Fortunately, not too hot but boy is it big! And flat! and wide! did that all in one day. Kingman AZ was quite nice. Then it was on to Gallup. The less said about the experience there, the better. We were right next to the railroad tracks. That with the broken sliding glass door, the lack of space and the inhospitable hotelier . . . well, let's move on. Just beware: don't let the Grams book your room.

The winds picked up this morning on I 40. Now, we're pulling a sailboat with a cover. You're getting the picture, right? There we were out on the highway rigging up bungies so the whole darn thing didn't fly off (and us with it).

We reached Santa Fe by noon but can't check in until 4 pm. So, here we sit in the lobby. Waiting. Fortunately, it's very comfortable. It's warm in the lobby and they have complimentary hot chocolate. So, all in all, not too bad. Got to admit (but don't tell the Grams) that sky here is amazing.

 moochas smoochas,

Gweeds

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Woke up before dawn this morning - very unusual for moi - and this is what greeted me at window in the lounge. The fountain had been frozen for a few days, but it was full of snow.

The whole landscape was white. I was very glad to be indoors. I was also glad to have the cuppa that Grams brought me a little later.

Grams is hoping to see the Dr. Who Christmas special here in real time, instead of having to wait for it on BBC America in February or something, for heaven's sake!

These last few days of David Tennant (nee, McDonald) as the Dr. are all the buzz here. He will be missed, I suppose.  I'm still waiting for Primeval to come back on, that's my favorite show. Even though Doug Henshaw has left , along with a few others, I still love all the creatures.

When the sun came up, I ventured outside again and took a few more pics. On the right, that's one very frozen ornamental cabbage.

I do like the lady in the ivy. She does look a little cold though.

Right now the wind is howling - I suspect it's gale force. But, we're tucked up warm inside Gwel Y Gorwel. I do hope Bronwyn and the child like their presents. 

This is the sky about 20 minutes ago. At the mo' it's a tad darker.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

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

And, of course 

平和  に 働 き

(heiwa ni hataraki: work for peace)

 

You can Aurora my Borealis

Yes, I know, where has the Gweeds been all summer? Well, of course the Hankster was here and we had to play, and build cities, and watch toonies, and play some more.

I was also interviewing new nannies for a young boy named Eric who’s living in Wales. So many things to do and so little time . . .

Of course, I would have had plenty of time if the Grams had used her pea brain. It seems that the reason for her summer-long malaise was truly her fault and her fault alone. She had an infection that she didn’t deal with until we had safely put Henri on plane back to NYC. By then, she was pretty close to renal failure. Silly woman, it’s 2 rounds of meds later, and she’s finally getting her old energy back.

I know what got her to take care of it: I told her that we were leaving for Wales and Scotland on the 11th with her or without her. Her lifelong dream of seeing the Aurora Borealis from Scotland would be dashed if she weren’t to get herself better. She took her meds faithfully and during the second round, she finally started to be her old self.

She has packed the bags. I’ve found a nanny for Eric (her name is Geneviève. She’s French and she has a bit of an attitude. But, I’m used to women with attitudes, if you get my drift.

So, on Tuesday we’re off to Wales and then Scotland. Emlyn is hiring a car and we’re going to just take off for Scotland. No reservations. No plans. Well, there’s one plan: to see the Aurora Borealis. Fingers crossed on that one. Also, Grams and Marian plan on getting a lot of sketching and painting in.

I’m going to spend as much time as I can with Bronwyn and the child. Oh, I wish Tuesday would get here. Grams says you shouldn’t wish time away, but I do wish Tuesday would come a little faster.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

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

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

The falling leaves drift by the window . . . C’est une chanson, qui nous ressemble*

Yes, I’ve been away for a while. The Gweeds has been under the weather. My lungs are more delicate than other sentient beings, and I do suffer when the weather turns cold. And it has been very cold here in Santa Tourista.

Grams keeps trying to get me to ride with her and Big Guy in the mornings when she bikes to work. I have peeked out from under my duvet long enough to see the frost on the roof tops across the way. She waves up to me as she gets on her bike and I can see her breath coming out of her mouth. “Come on Gweeds! It’s just brisk!” Brisk my eye! It was 28° F (-2° C) yesterday morning.

She laughed later when she got back home. “Wow! I thought that my nose would fall off this morning!” And she thought that I would come with her?!? She’s nuts! So, I’ve been rambling around the house, reading, looking at DVDs, and generally twiddling my thumbs. Grams has been feeding me so much chicken soup, that I think I might sprout feathers any day now. There’s one thing I’m sure of: I have cabin fever.

At least Grams has stopped complaining about it being eternal spring here old S.T. “Ahhhh, Gweeds, it’s finally autumn! Feel that chill in the air!” No, thanks. I’ll crawl back under the duvet with a hot water bottle. Yesterday, Grams came up to my room when she got home and dumped the leaves in the photo on my bed. “Look! Autumn leaves! Aren’t they gorgeous! If only it would snow here!”

Snow?!? That’s all I need. I’m used to a tropical climate. What is wrong with the woman? I do have to admit that this weather brings out the best in her culinary skills. She’s made lots of chili, and she always has a hot toddy for me. Also, she’s broken out the egg nog. She has lots of liquor in it, so I’m limited to my intake (“I don’t want you stumbling down the stairs, mister!”).

I know that one of these mornings, when she’s decided that I’m feeling better, she’s going to toss my jacket, muffler, mittens, and cap to me and make me come with her. In the meantime, I’m coughing and blowing my nose loudly when she’s nearby. She’s going to catch on soon, so keep the Gweeds in your thoughts.

From our house to yours,
Feliz Navidad and may the New Year bring real peace on earth.

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)

*Autumn Leaves

The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold

Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

C’est une chanson, qui nous ressemble
Toi tu m’aimais et je t'aimais
Nous vivions tous, les deux ensemble
Toi que m’aimais moi qui t'aimais
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable les pas des amants désunis

(French Lyrics by Jacques Prévert,
English Lyrics by Johnny Mercer,
Music by Joseph Kosma)

Wild horses couldn't drag me away*

It’s been a strange month so far. On the 3rd, Grams and Big Guy threw some chones into a suitcase and flew to New York. A week later they were back home; and Grams was in a full-blown funk. She’s just coming out of that this weekend. She wasn’t even going to do Thanksgiving dinner. I knew that she was coming ‘round when she bought the T.S.P. Turkey (that’s textured soy protein) for turkey day on Thursday. She is so thoughtful when it comes to my vegan ways. Then, today we hit Trader Joe’s and she got the rest of the fixings. I’ll be in a tryptophan haze by 4 p.m. on Thursday.

Of course, I hopped in the bicycle basket this morning. Fool that I am, I believed Big Guy when he said, “Let’s go to the bluffs!” I like the bluffs. It’s an easy ride, just one little hill and that’s only on the way there, we go a different route on the way back. Grams let me use her iPod. I set it on ‘shuffle’ and held on to the basket.

Wille Nelson got me “On the Road Again,” to the bike path on the big road. So far, so good. It was the Eagles’ “Hotel California,” up the street. Then, before I could say, “Whoa, Cowboy!” Big Guy turned off the path and went across the field that leads to the Tour de Terroir, and Grams followed. We were going up to the Point: this is my worst fear. All I could do is close my eyes shut and hold on for dear life.

Grams actually made it up the hill without breaking much of a sweat; which is more than I say about myself: I was sweating bullets. I have no idea what music was on, it could have been Spike Jones for all I knew. When we reached the top, Grams tapped me on the shoulder and I ventured a peek. Then, I checked my pulse: I have no idea what it was, I can’t count that fast.

Grams slowed down through the trees and fields and pretty soon we were at the Point. “Gweeds, look it’s the same as it was in February! See, it is the land of eternal spring. Oh, I wish it would look more like autumn!” Just then, on the iPod, the Rolling Stones started singing, “Wild Horses.” I started singing it to Grams. That got her. She had to admit I was right. I knew that the Hill o’ Death was still ahead of us but, at that mo’, it didn’t matter. Nature had her beauty on at 10 decibels above the threshold of pain and I was in my happy place.

It was warm, the sky was clear, the sea sparkled, and a the mist was flowing around the mouth of the slough. Yes, it’s mostly always the same here. Of course, I can remember the El Niňo year, when I thought that we’d float away any day. But, we didn’t and eventually the sun re-appeared. This year is supposed to be an El Niňo one again, but we haven’t seen any sight of it yet. It's spikey yellow balls every day in the forecast on my home page.

I’m starting to plan our Spring trip to Wales and Scotland. Actually, Emlyn is planning most of it. All I have to do is get us there and back. Easy peasy. Oooh, “Prime Minister’s Questions” is coming on. Grams says that Tony Blair gave David Cameron what for on Wednesday and it's worth a look see. Gotta go.

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)

*Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted I bought them for you
Graceless lady you know who I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away

I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie
I have my freedom but I don't have much time
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried
Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, we’ll ride them some day

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, we’ll ride them some day

Autumn in New York

Well, here I sit in sunny Santa Toruista, where there are no seasons. Well, we have one: summer. Then, there’re variations on the theme of summer. Right now, it’s the cool part of summer. What we don’t get are the glorious colours of autumn. Oh we do get some leaves changing colour, but nothing like the east coast of the U.S.

So, imagine my delight when I opened up my email this AM and saw these pics that Grams took yesterday. The first one is the palisades of New Jersey right off the Hudson River. She was really impressed by the rock formations. She loves that kind of stuff, she should’ve been a geologist.

What I love are the colours of the leaves. She swore that she didn’t enhance them. She said nature is decked out in her most glorious colours. She’s even pressed a few leaves to bring back to me.

In the meantime, I’m trying to keep my cousins under control. I can’t wait for her to come 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)

Monet in the backyard

I was getting ready to write about a fireplug in Vienna, when I ran across these photos from the weekend. We had biked down to the slough and, not for the first time, I realized how much the scenery looked like something out of a Monet painting.

Then, I turned back and got this shot under the bridge that crosses the slough. The water was so still in the creek, and it shimmered on the underpinnings of the bridge.
Just I was getting that shot, Big Guy said, “Look over here, Gweeds!” That’s when I saw the ‘plein air’ palms. It was such a California shot.




The palm trees mark the spot of one of our favourite restaurants. It’s right on the beach where the slough empties out into the ocean. I know why it’s Grams’ fave: they make wicked Key Lime martinis. Every time we go there, I always think about the time when Henri was very little and he chased a mouse around the outdoor patio. Since the El Niño storms of a few years back, the mice can’t get into the patio anymore. The wave action was so huge that the patio just about washed away. So, they built a short concrete wall all the way around the patio.

The last pic is from the Lemon Festival. That’s Grams with Sparky the firedog. Can you guess what she’s holding in the box? Yup, it’s a piece of lemon cream pie. Yum!

It's funny about the Monet slough: sometimes what you're longing for is right there in your own backyard.








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)

“The spearman heard the bugle sound, And cheerily smiled the morn"

This photo always puts me in a thoughtful mood. I took it in Beddgelert, in Wales. Beddgelert is a town in Snowdonia Park. It’s right in the shadow of Mt. Snowdon. The name ‘Beddgelert’ means ‘the tomb of Gelert.’ As the story goes, Gelert was a hunting dog of Llywellyn, a nobleman of Wales. This was back in the 1200s. So, it would make him contemporaneous with King Edward I of England, who at that time was busily trying to subdue Wales. Notice that I didn’t say ‘conquered.’ Wales has never been conquered, just occasionally subdued.

So, Llywellyn went hunting one day without his faithful hound, Gelert. When he returned he saw Gelert covered with blood. Worse than that, Lleywellyn’s baby son was missing. Lleywellyn immediately assumed that Gelert had killed the child. So, he killed Gelert.

Just then, Lleywellyn heard a baby’s cry. In the bushes was his child in his cradle, and next to him was the body a huge wolf. Gelert had obviously killed the wolf to save the child. Lleywellyn was devastated. He rushed to hold the body of his lifeless dog in is arms. But no amount of sorrow or tears would revive Gelert.

There is even a statue of the brave Gelert in Beddgelert. There’s only one problem: the fable was made up by savvy townsfolk, probably in the nineteenth century; who were trying to bring tourism to the town. The real Gelert was a saint, of the human variety, who lived there in the sixth century.

Well, it’s a nice story and the town is beautiful. Marian and Emlyn decided to bring us here because the Grams had been listening to the BBC on the internet and she had heard about gales and the flooding of Beddgelert. She had picked up the phone and immediately called Marian and Emlyn. We arrived a few weeks later and nature had recovered, as you can see.

Dying for no reason, is there anything worse?

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)

You'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two

Okay. Several points need to be made. Perhaps a list will be best.

1. Never, never go along with the Grams on a bike ride in a field
2. Never, never go along with her to the ER after she crashes the bike
3. If you’re foolish enough to go along with her to the ER, ignore the attention that Big Guy is getting from the nurses

If all else fails, see #1:

Never, never go along with the Grams on a bike ride in a field

Yesterday, Grams said, “Let’s go see the butterflies!” Monarch butterflies, like so many tourists, like to winter in Santa Tourista. Can’t say as I blame them. Around the turn of the last century, railroad barons imported gum (Eucalyptus) trees from Australia. These trees grow fast and have a hard wood. The thought was that having the trees next to the tracks would make a handy way to make new ties (sleepers) as needed. Monarch butterflies love gum trees.

These days the gum trees serve as Butterfly Holiday Inns for the Monarchs as they fly down from Canada. In December, the Monarchs can be seen hanging off the limbs of the gums trees by the thousands. After winter, they fly back up north to spend the summer with our Canadian cousins.

The groves of gum trees are now, for the most part, between housing developments. But near us, there’s a field and there’s a huge grove of gum trees. This is where our little adventure began yesterday. Somehow, Grams talked us into riding over to see the butterflies. I rode with Grams on her handlebars. She has a very nice basket on her bike that she got especially for me and, on the street, I love going with her.

However, she has a street bike. Big Guy has a mountain bike. I should’ve known better. I’ve only myself to blame. The woman can’t chew gum and walk at the same time (seriously, she can’t: she bites her tongue). We went out into the field and got to the gum trees. The butterflies had either decamped or were in their cocoons. Who knows? All I know is that they weren’t there. We were more than disappointed. I took a photo of part of the grove. But, we forlornly got back on our bikes and headed back.

Big Guy decided to take the “north slope of the Grand Canyon.” Our “Grand Canyon” is really just a ditch that keeps getting deeper with each winter rain. I have to say, that he should have known better, we all should have. Yes, she went ‘teats over arse’ into the canyon. I flew out of the basket, which was what saved me. Grams wasn’t as lucky. She got caught up in the mechanism and crashed right into the basket. Her left shin went into the pedal. Ouch!

That is how we ended up in the ER. Why did I go along? Listen, I keep asking myself that. Grams had a baseball-sized bump on her shin right below her knee. “Look away, I’m hideous!” she cried. Well, she wasn’t far off. I gave the receptionist Grams’ insurance cards while Big Guy iced her shin. Grams has her own insurance, but she also has Big Guy’s as second carrier. Big Guy is retired from the motion picture industry, and he also is retired from the Screen Actors Guild. I should’ve thought twice when the receptionist looked up and smiled. I thought it was my charm, but no it wasn’t.

When we got to the little cubicle, a nurse peeked in and said to Big Guy, “I’ve seen you in movies. I know who you are.” It didn’t help that he was wearing a crew jacket from some forgettable Disney film that he had worked on and had a haircut recently. He was looking hot. Poor Grams, they kept her there an extra hour longer because all of the nurses in the hospital had to cruise by the examining room and peek in at least twice. They weren’t looking at her baseball-sized shin and they weren’t looking at me – they were checking out Big Guy.

X-rays were taken, limbs were checked and Grams was pronounced good for another round. We were all rolling our eyes, when they finally let Grams go: 2 hours later. So, never, never go along the Grams on a bike ride in a field

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

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

And, of course 平和のための仕事

Down among the sheltering palms*

On New Year’s Eve, we decided to get down to the shore. The surf was so high that we kept getting warnings that, if you went to the beach, "you shouldn’t turn your back on the ocean.” Duh!?!

Grams gets excited whenever there’s high surf in Santa Tourista. She has to go down and see it (Since we have south-facing beaches, we don’t get high surf too often). So, down to the sea we went. The surf made a mist that hung over the dunes. The waves crashed in endless lines. There weren’t any surfers that day. No para-gliders either. Just a few people standing looking out at the power of the ocean. It was awesome.

We wandered all over the dunes. Big Guy was fascinated by the delicate little flowers on the ice plants. We just stood there for ages watching the mist and the dunes. Then, we wandered along the shoreline checking out all the debris the storms had brought across the Pacific. There was a lot of bamboo. Was it all the way from Japan? “I doubt it,” said Grams.

There is something about a wind-blown beach: it brings on the appetite. So, we went into town to our favourite tavern, “where the pavement ends, and the west begins.” The meal was good, but the best part was the bread pudding for dessert. “One bread pudding, three forks, please.” Oh, the whiskey sauce, way too good, I licked the plate. We had to go for a walk afterward. That’s where I found the map with Santa Tourista on it. There we are on the edge of the Pacific.

Grams says that 2005 was an “annus horribulus” for most folks. All she wants is for this year to be better. She says that we’ll turn the corner and see the sunshine at some point, “unfortunately that corner looks as if it's at the end of the longest block in the universe.” Hope she’s wrong.

Work for peace.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

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

*Down among the sheltering palms
My honey wait for me, my honey wait for me.
Don’t be forgettin’ we’ve got a date
Out where the sun goes down about eight
How my heart is yearnin’, yearnin’, yearnin’
How my love is burnin’, burnin’ burnin’
Down among the shelterin’ palms
Oh honey wait for me!