dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Sunday, May 26, 2019

pirate friends


Is it ok to pretend to be pirates?  Pirates are a real thing, right?  I feel like there are real pirates, and then there are the idea of pirates like in Peter Pan.  Hopefully I'm not exploiting anybody by letting my friend put a skull handkerchief on my head.  And letting Ming take a picture.

Saturday, May 25, 2019

happy birthday to Vera


It's my friend's birthday today, so I'm wearing the necklace she gave me for my birthday, years ago, and sending her extra love.

I think I have a little more energy, more follow-thru with my intentions.  Things seem more possible.

I survived my sleep study.  It was pretty horrible.  But I washed my hair and got that yucky glue stuff out.

This morning we're going to pick apriums--I hope there are some left for us.  We're waiting for R to get done at the soup line.

Last night I used my emotional first aid kit for the first time.  It only has a few things in it right now.  But I comforted myself as I waited for the tech to hook me up to all the wires.  Ming and I played with the rocks, and I wrote in the little journal. 

I decided that rocks are the original toys.  Who needs a beanie baby.


Friday, May 24, 2019

emotional first aid kit

clear plastic bag to hold everything

noise-canceling headphones
These are too big to go in the kits I'm making now. But if I ever have to spend time in the hospital again, I'd like some noise-canceling headphones so I can take a break from the hospital while in the hospital.


small sketchbook and pen
I'm annoyed by lines, don't need them.


notes / art from loved ones
I have some already or can ask friends to make me something special.


encouraging letter to self
I like to write to myself periodically anyway.


tiny zine of self-care, other-care
I actually made a one-page affirmation zine years ago.


essential oil spray
I can get small empty spray bottles and put a few drops essential oil in there then fill the whole bottle with water. I already have a blend that's supposed to be good for happiness--its main smell is orange. I have a blend for calmness also that I was given by a friend.


rocks / crystals for calming or grounding
Hematite is classic, but lots of rocks could work. Something beautiful and feels good in the hand.


talisman for healing, homemade beforehand


affirmation cards
With blank cards for writing new ones?  I can just cut up index cards.


calming herbal tea
I'm including a bag of lemongrass tea well-sealed in plastic.


oatstraw tea
For anxiety.


magnesium glycinate
For anxiety.


emergency contact numbers
Local warm line.


cute toy?
Haven't figured this one out yet.  Maybe a little beanie baby type toy?


comforting spiritual or religious item
Small book, prayer on a card, or medal.


squeezy thing
Just a stress ball.


palo santo with small lighter


Thursday, May 23, 2019

all I need

Ming put some small white beans in the crock pot this morning.  So now I have fresh beans to eat.  Ah.  Delicious.

We went to a magical bookstore today.  I've been looking for rubies for the emotional first aid kits I'm making.  I heard rubies are grounding yet energizing.  Sounds good.  Also they are very pretty.

They were out of rubies, but I got a few other stones.

hematite
jasper--red
jasper--leopard
utakite

Also I bought a card with three rabbits on it making a triangle with their ears.  And a large card with this lovely lady on it who is riding a ram.  There's a volcano erupting in the distance, some trippy flowers in the foreground, and the sun is rising.

This morning I had a mild anxiety attack.  Ming put his hand on my shoulder, which helped.  Then I cried, which really helped.  I told Ming, "Life is a wide path that leads to death."

Freshly boiled beans are just about my favorite food in the world.  With salt and butter.  That's really all I need.

My package is supposed to arrive today.  The zipper pouches, the other zipper pouches I'll make the emotional first aid kits in, and a fabric bag that hopefully is really big.

I met with my friend J this afternoon.  We sat and talked outside.  She took me to the garden to show me all the green tomatoes and held my hand.  The wind was blowing my dress around too much.  Then we went up to the prayer room and talked more.

Thank god for friends, crock pots, beans, beautiful stones that cost one dollar each, Ming, and life.

Wednesday, May 22, 2019

morning glories, monkeyflowers, dudleyas

A long time ago, when I lived in Sacramento and worked in the gardens at the Vedanta Society there, Swami hated morning glories.

"Take out those morning glories," he'd say when I was weeding.

I felt like they were sweet.  So cute and cheerful.  With their pale round flowers and fine vines.

But I could see his point.  They would act like parasites, twining their vines on the outside of other plants, pushing their flowers up to a prime place for pollinators.  They used the height of other plants as their own height.

To Swami, they were a common weed.  So I would rip them out, as instructed, untangling them from the wanted plants they were twining on.

Driving the foothills near the Undisclosed Location, I saw monkeyflowers.  I think monkeyflowers are the only flowers that annoy me.  Not sure why--their stickiness, their name, the way they have a face?  The way they cling to hillsides?  Their peachy color, like Swami's robes?

They never did anything bad to me, so I'm not sure why I dislike them so.  Not like I'd harm them.  They just bother me.

Oleanders, on the other hand, I kind of hate.  I used to daydream about ripping them out.  We actually have some growing by Freedom House by the gravel driveway.  Those oleanders bloom white.

Recently they had a big bloom and then a lot of blooms fell at the same time when it rained, so there was a white flower carpet.  Even I had to admit, it was kind of pretty.

Ming thought I didn't like cliche flowers.  I said no, I love daisies--very cute.  Roses are great.  I love almost all the flowers.  Carnations look very formal to me, the opposite of wildflowers.  But my mom likes them.  They're ok.

In the foothills I also saw tons of sage blooming pale purple.  Whole hillsides were covered in it.  I wanted to pull over and look closer at them.  Poor Ming.  I think when he was driving, he missed them all.

Also I saw dudleyas, my very favorite plants.  There were some huge ones, I think brittonii.  Dudleyas are the only plants I know the latin of.   That's because there aren't really common names.  Maybe it was pulverulenta.

They were growing on steep rocky hillsides.  I would get excited when I saw them.  But Ming couldn't see them because he was busy driving.



This pic is by Helmy oved I snagged from wikipedia.

Tuesday, May 21, 2019

sacred

I want to learn how to make paper.  I like to make little books as gifts, and it would be cool if I didn't have to buy the paper.

Going home has a different energy than outgoing trip excitement.  Going home can feel like work.  But the drive is beautiful.  I'm blessed to come from a beautiful homeland.

Some recent revelations:
History is so hard to believe.  I don't know if I trust my guide.  Then the guide is basing it on things other people said longer ago, and I don't know if I trust them either.  I know how "facts" can be created.  Rumor and common knowledge can be wrong.  An anecdote can get blown out of proportion.  An instance can become everyone. 

Well, I sound like a paranoid conspiracy theorist.  But I was reading this history of the Chumash people on Sunday at the bookstore in Lompoc.  And I could hear the attitude of the writer--it was published in 1965.  He would say things I totally didn't believe, so then it threw the whole thing into doubt. 

Like he talked about some Chumash people having an easy life, and it just seemed like a lie.  When is life ever easy?  Yeah, many kinds of fish and abundant acorns sounds good, but misfortune is everywhere.

I don't like history in general, and the only exception seems to be the history of my homeland.  I think it's because I love the plants and animals and land here so much--it makes sense I want to know about the people who relied on them and what happened here, to make the holes in the rocks and the art in the cave.  I'm especially intrigued by the people who lived on the islands.  I love the Channel Islands.

I found out my mom's mom was born in New Mexico, probably Corrizozo, and I want to go there now.  There's an old volcano.  I want to learn about that place and hug a tree, if trees grow there.  Kiss the earth.  You probably think I'm crazy.  But what's sacred, in this world? 

When Ming and I traveled to my mom's birthplace, that was one of the best trips I've ever taken.

Well, I gotta make breakfast and do morning things, then get on the road.  Love to all.

Monday, May 20, 2019

special horse day


Today Ming rode a horse for the first time.  I'm feeling like a good spouse for helping him fulfil a lifelong dream.  He wasn't scared and did great.  They rode a trail by a waterfall and could see the ocean at times, from the mountain area.

It's up a canyon I had never been up before, and I loved seeing all the beautiful trees, clouds blowing by, stream, and birds--tons of scrub jays, little woodpeckers, robins gathering nest material.

I sat looking at all the beauty for a while, then went into the lodge where I drank free Lipton tea and worked on a long letter.  Then I went outside again and looked at the beauty more--oaks, sycamores, California poppies.

Then we went to Isla Vista and at the Little Free Library at the co-op I got an art brochure thing for a free exhibit at UCSB of Chicano art.  I want to go this summer.

We ate our picnic lunch and enjoyed life.  Then I visited my bestie and her baby.  We had a good time talking and playing with baby toys.  The baby liked my blue painted toenails and touched them.


Sunday, May 19, 2019

Laura-Marie's heros

This starbux has huge windows and all this gorgeous white light pours in on me when I sit here, mornings, doing work and writing while Ming is at yoga class.  It's a free community yoga class today--I hope it's not too crowded.

I read this letter Frida Kahlo wrote to Georgia O'Keeffe when the latter had been hospitalized.  It was amazing because I didn't even know how much English language Frida had.  I didn't know they knew each other.




I understood the feeling of tearing up letters that aren't good enough.  And I wondered what kind of flowers Frida wanted to give Georgia that were hard to find.  Calla lilies?  Sweet peas?

It made me teary, for some reason.  I don't have many heros, but these artists are my heros.

Laura-Marie's hero list

Frida Kahlo -- badass queer disabled Mexican artist
Georgia O'Keeffe -- desert dweller American artist
Cindy Baker -- Canadian fat activist artist
Marilyn Wann -- fat activist author zinester and inventor of Yay Scale
Felice Cohen-Joppa -- amazing peace activist anti-nuclear mama
Chelsea Manning -- whistleblowing transgender freedom fighter

Those women are off the top of my head.  I don't know if hero worship is really a good idea.  I guess I try to keep it to a minimum.

I made a list of people I want to be closer to, who I want to invest in.  I've been feeling spread thin socially.  I wish I had time for everyone, and energy, but I don't.  And rather than blow around like a tumbleweed, I'd rather make choices and be intentional about it.

I showed my list to Ming.  He thought it was sad.  I felt judged by his sad.  I think being intentional and in charge of my life is something to feel happy about.  But whatever.  Feelers gonna feel.

The chairs are loud on the tiles, here, when people drag them around.  A worker is sweeping.

A long time ago, I was a professional sweeper too.  Thank goodness those days are over.  But thank goodness I know what work is.

What Work Is by Philip Levine

We stand in the rain in a long line
waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work.
You know what work is—if you’re
old enough to read this you know what
work is, although you may not do it.
Forget you. This is about waiting,
shifting from one foot to another.
Feeling the light rain falling like mist
into your hair, blurring your vision
until you think you see your own brother
ahead of you, maybe ten places.
You rub your glasses with your fingers,
and of course it’s someone else’s brother,
narrower across the shoulders than
yours but with the same sad slouch, the grin
that does not hide the stubbornness,
the sad refusal to give in to
rain, to the hours of wasted waiting,
to the knowledge that somewhere ahead
a man is waiting who will say, “No,
we’re not hiring today,” for any
reason he wants. You love your brother,
now suddenly you can hardly stand
the love flooding you for your brother,
who’s not beside you or behind or
ahead because he’s home trying to   
sleep off a miserable night shift
at Cadillac so he can get up
before noon to study his German.
Works eight hours a night so he can sing
Wagner, the opera you hate most,
the worst music ever invented.
How long has it been since you told him
you loved him, held his wide shoulders,
opened your eyes wide and said those words,
and maybe kissed his cheek? You’ve never
done something so simple, so obvious,
not because you’re too young or too dumb,
not because you’re jealous or even mean
or incapable of crying in
the presence of another man, no,   
just because you don’t know what work is.

Saturday, May 18, 2019

Stories Are Magic


My friend interviewed me about my activism, and the interview is published in this zine.  You can order it on her etsy!

https://www.etsy.com/listing/691743730/stories-are-magic-a-zine-of-interviews

Friday, May 17, 2019

Deaf hitchhikers, lost friend, how to get a pretty scrunchie

I woke up from a dream--Ming and I were in the shortbus, and we saw some hitchhikers.  They were two women with short hair, butch-looking, wearing jeans and I'm not sure about their shirts, but they looked similar to one another, white ladies with dark blond hair, probably in their 30s.

I rolled down the window and asked, "Where you headed?" to the nearest lady, and she had a little sticker stuck to her finger.  She handed it to me, and in little handwriting, black ink, someone had written, We are Deaf.

But by then I had noticed the dog, a huge St Bernard, the size of a couch!

I told Ming, "They are Deaf.  But they have a huge dog!"  Ming seemed very positive about giving them a ride.  I was not wanting the huge dog in our vehicle and wanted to ask if the dog was well-behaved, but I didn't have any paper.

It was vivid and seemed realistic, like these people are really out there waiting for a ride, and I can still see the handwriting.

I was remembering a friend.  I used to go to the 99 cent store, and they had scrunchies for a dollar--I thought it was a three-pack, but now I wonder if it was a two-pack.  I got this scrunchie that was stripes of different purples, so pretty.  I love purple.

But it was with other scrunchies that were not to my liking.  I remember one that was gray and black striped, and those aren't my colors.  One was neon orange.  But to get the pretty purple scrunchie, I had to get the ones I didn't like.

So I gave those ones to my friend who also had long hair and used scrunchies, but probably she would have liked the purple one best, like me. 

That friend, I loved her so much.  She was one of my first friends with kids.  I loved her kids also.  It took a lot for me to let them in.

We had some good times--at the park, getting food, by the river.  Bad times too, like at the doctor and when the little one was throwing a fit because she didn't want to leave.

I had a dream about her also.  She was about to take a belly dancing class and was very happy.  I asked how the kids were, and she said they were good, at a birthday party.

I thought she would be my friend all my life.  I miss her.  I was in it for the long haul.  She stopped wanting anything to do with me.  I see bits of her husband's news on facebook and feel voyeuristic.

Thursday, May 16, 2019

thoughts from California

"I was surprised, I looked at the weather for Las Vegas, and it's not supposed to be hot.  It's going to be in the 70s half the days we'll be gone.  What the hell?  We could have gone to the hot springs!  I thought we had to wait till fall.  I guess this is normal now.  The time of predictable weather is over."

"Yeah," Ming said.  We looked at each other.

"That's sad," I said.  "Let's swim away from that thought.  Swim swim swim!"  I made swimming motions in the air.

Last night at dinner I was asking Ming a ton of questions.

What do you think happens to us when we die?
Is there just nothing?  Is there heaven or something else?
Ming said he thinks it's just over, and anything else is a bonus.
When people say their relative is still with them despite death,
is that real? 
It's all in their head, Ming said.
What about ghosts?  Why is there something, rather than nothing?
Do you believe in a God who can hear and respond to prayers?
He said he didn't think so.
But you pray anyway, I said, to yourself, or hoping a being hears?
Yes, he said. 
Do you believe these things in your mind or your heart?
Where do you believe them?  Is it logic or just a feeling?
Ming said it was in his chest, a feeling. 
If it was logic, it would come from a book.
What book? I asked.  Like the Torah?
Yeah, he said.
You'd believe a book? I asked.
Do you think people are mostly good or mostly bad?

Then we started talking about climate change.  I saw a photo on facebook of a young person holding a sign.  It said: You'll die of old age, I'll die of climate change. 

I asked Ming if having kids made him more concerned and wanting to do something.  He said no, he felt like that before he had kids. 

I said, So you see all the children of the world as your children?  He said he didn't think it had to be about children.  It could be just for the world.

I asked what he wanted to do about climate change.  He suggested some behaviors, and it sounded futile.  He asked what I thought about stopping climate change.

I said I thought it was too late.  I said that in the industrial revolution, money became more important than anything--trees, love, life itself.  They were like, look at this cool thing I can do, and it didn't matter that they were spewing gray smoke into the air.  Money was more important than being able to breathe.

Ming asked if I thought it was toxic masculinity, and I said maybe, that women might be more likely to notice, Hmm, the air is filled with gray smoke.  I need to breathe, and my kids need to breathe.  Everyone needs to breathe.

I said people could use technology to try to fix the problems caused by technology, like putting the thing in the smokestack to catch the particles.  You can try that--but if it's not profitable, then it's not going to happen.

At some point, money became more important than anything.  I was saying how a tree is sacred, but people would deaden their hearts to that, and then money would be more important than a tree.  But you can't make someone feel that a tree is sacred.

Money became the only sacred thing.

We talked about the invention of cars, horseshit in the streets, how you can't see the distant future result of your actions.  Water, horseshit in the water, what people need to live. Population.

Then I was telling him about tadpoles--when I was a little girl, there was a creek by my house, and people would go see the tadpoles and catch some, bring them home in creek water in a jar.  It was fun and exciting.

But then the next day, they see the tadpoles in the jar--what do you feed them?  How do you keep them alive?  The excited feeling was gone, but the tadpoles were still there.

I can't remember what that was an example of.  Something about responsibility?  Nature is no joke, and a being's life is everything.

I don't know what will happen to all these people.  I guess if there's reincarnation, I have to come back.  I love the world.  But in a way, I feel coldly dismissive.

I love the people who are near and try to help the world in my small way.  I try to help build community by running the radical mental health collective and helping with the Catholic Worker and Nevada Desert Experience.  I want a new world, but I'm weary.  I write letters and try to have an open heart, try to enjoy the moment, but I do see doom.

Well, California is a great state, so diverse and beautiful, and I think no matter where I go and what my driver's license says, California is my home.  So I'll try to enjoy it.

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

dress weights

I thought of a great bad invention--probably everyone thinks of it--of dress weights.  They are four weights you have attached to clothes pins and you pin them on the hem of your dress before you go out into the wind.  Then no one sees your chonies.

I'm walking through a parking lot, keeping my hands by my sides, trying to keep my dress down so no one sees my chonies, visualizing dress weights.

"You should use bells," Ming said.

"You mean like cow bells?" I asked.

"No, smaller," he said.

"You mean like jingle bells?" I asked.

"No, smaller," he said.

"You mean like...mini-jingle bells?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

I'm thinking those are too light, but it makes sense to him.

We're at the hotel--we can rest now.  We had a whole conversation this morning about pigeons.  He was saying their poo goes into the air and makes people sick.  He sounded anti-pigeon.  I was pro-pigeon.

"The only way a pigeon would make you sick with its poo would be if you actually lived with pigeons, like they were pooing right next to you five times a day," I said.  "And if you lived with pigeons, the pigeons would be the least of your problems."

Then he brought up crows, and I was saying crows were way more loved than pigeons, and he was saying crows are bad too.  I told him lots of people want to be called Crow or Raven, and nobody wants to be called Pigeon.  I was referring to pagans specifically--Moonpigeon doesn't really happen.

This morning I felt really ready for this trip, more ready than usual.  But I realized we take so many roadtrips--we should have a better system for packing.  I was thinking how we could do it better.  I know we packed a bottle of tylenol, but I don't know where it is.

Oh, a public service announcement--saltwater taffy can have gelatin in it.  I was reading ingredients on candy bags at Eddy World and was upset to see the gelatin on the label.

Tuesday, May 14, 2019

Sumerland



Ming was telling me...someone mentioned to him that Summerlin is actually Sumerland.  Summerlin is the rich part of town, here in Las Vegas.  But someone was saying it was named after ancient Sumer.

"Who was it?" I asked.  He couldn't remember.

"That would actually be cool," I said.  "We could go to Sumerland to worship Inanna, swim in the Tigris and Euphrates, and learn cuneiform.  We could go to the underworld and come back."

A special quirk about Ming is his strange relationship with reality.  "Why did you do such and such?" I'll ask, and rather than remembering and answering the question, he'll come up with some plausible ideas and list them as options with no regard to the actual reason.

It's like he thinks things just happen, and if we want to explain them, your guess is as good as mine.

"Rather than thinking of the real reason for something, you just come up with something plausible," I told him this morning.

"What's the difference?" he asked.

"See, that's the problem," I said.

"I'll work on that," he said.

I'm the kind of person who believes in reality and needs to find it.  Maybe I'm naive.

This morning Ming's cellphone alarm was going off at 4.  I woke up and he was not waking up, so I woke him up to turn it off.  I think it had been going off for a long time.

This morning I was feeling grateful for my body.  It has its problems, but it does many good things.  I was lying in bed, feeling gratefulness, as the sun came up.

Monday, May 13, 2019

C is the Heavenly Option

I joined Coursera and am taking a music theory class.  It's free to audit. 

I've always felt curious about music theory.  They're starting at the beginning--I already knew pitch, notes, staff, octave.  But I think it will get difficult really quick.

And why is an A the same as an A, an octave higher or lower?  How are they both an A?  I can hear that they are, but why?  I kind of wish for more detail or science or something.

I have a lot of questions.

I was telling Ming, they started with A, but in my mind, C is the first note, the God note.  C is very dear to me.  My favorite note.

"Isn't C on a violin?' Ming asked.

"Uh...all the notes are on a violin," I said.

But what is a note.  I know other cultures can have other notes.  Is it ok, to limit our notes?  I guess that's not music theory.  That's something else.  Music philosophy or something.  Music ethics.

I got great news at a doctor's appointment today.  I really needed it.  Almost all the news really couldn't have been better.

But last night I had a small health / anxiety crisis that I got myself through, 11:30pm to 1:30am.  I still feel fragile.  It takes me a day to recover, around 24 hrs.  So I'm not expecting too much from myself right now.

Ming recovers faster.  We need to keep him well.  He needs support so we both don't go down at the same time.  I was looking for an online CBT class.  That's why I went to the Coursera website.  There's edX too.

So much to learn, in this world.

Sunday, May 12, 2019

me again

A dress is nice because...
it's cool.
It's comfortable.
It's simple--one piece.
It's flowy.

A dress is a pain because...
the wind could flip it up.
Drunk men react too much.
Too gendery?


Saturday, May 11, 2019

queen Laura-Marie


I bought a chair rated to 500lb.  It's a queen's chair, a throne!  I always sat in a camping chair and thought I'd break it.  But this one is sturdy and wide.

I told my skinny friend R, he could sit on my lap, and the chair would be fine.  That I could be Santa.  Ho ho ho.

Last night was the party, the two year anniversary of the radical mental health collective.  We had good music.  My friend gave me a feather.  I was dancing.

Today I have a hangover.  Too bad I don't drink.  A social hangover, I guess.


Toward the end of the party, I told a story about how it's okay to lose your dream, because there will always be more dreams.  And that we can live many lives, in our one life.  It was a hopeful story.

Friday, May 10, 2019

sometimes

Oops--put too much cayenne in the fried rice.

Today I cried in a meeting during my check-in.

I made myself a blueberry smoothie.

Sometimes life seems very hard--sometimes easy.

Thursday, May 09, 2019

plant friend


My friend brought me a beautiful plant.

Wednesday, May 08, 2019

downwinder

This place we're staying, cute little cabin, is very comfortable.  It's close to the freeway but feels nourishingly nature-y.  I like the wild bunnies and cows that roam.  I like the huge trees and birds singing.  The air feels clean.  I love this little patio with picnic table and grape arbor.  Haven't seen a mosquito.

Yesterday we went to St George for lunch.  Then Ming remembered a friend he has there.  So he called her, but she was at work, so we waited till almost 5 to visit with her.  I wasn't planning to spend much of the day in town.  I thought we were going to the city for only a couple hours.

The talk was about death.  The friend is a downwinder.  Several of her relatives have died of cancer as a result of nuclear testing fallout, including her little child.  The talk wasn't negative in a bitter or pointless way, but it was negative.  I had been extremely happy and got very sad real quick.

We returned to the cabin and I was crying.  I'm trying to talk about things.  I have an old habit of mulling things over myself and it can get a bit hamster wheelish.  I like to talk about things to open a window and let some fresh air and light into my mind, in a way.  It can be good to get feedback also.

I told Ming, it seems like for the first half of our lives we're given things, and during the second half of our lives, everything is taken away.

I'd like to return to this place, but it's going to get really hot soon.  Maybe in the fall.

My friend is going away for a ten month trip related to work, going to Iowa.  I wish the friend would return to Las Vegas afterward, but I know things happen, and things change.  Maybe the friend will decide Iowa is great, or find love, or another job.  I was thinking of the famous Robert Frost poem that says "way leads on to way."

I remember once Ming and I went to a small zine fest in Orange County.  We stayed at a Motel 6 and went to the beach in a place, I can't even remember the name.  I realized we didn't have a reason to return there and told Ming, we'll probably never come here again.

It was sad for me, not sure why.  Why couldn't I love a place and let it go?  A favorite quote of mine is "everything I've ever let go of had claw marks on it."

Ming is out hiking, and I'm at the picnic table enjoying morning.  I have a depressed penpal, and I try to measure how sad she is by how many stickers she puts on her letters.  The more stickers, the harder she's trying to cheer herself up.  Sometimes there are about 30 small stickers.

I can judge my mood by how much sugar I consume.  During the Sacred Peace Walk, I stock up on chocolate.

The Road Not Taken--Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Monday, May 06, 2019

in which Laura-Marie gambles pointlessly


We went to Albertson's for a specific thing and ended up buying other stuff too.  The checker asked us if we played Monopoly.  "Sure," I said.  "There are instant wins, right?"  She said yes.

She was counting a ton of tickets, and I wondered why.  I thought it was an odd time, to make us wait.  Then she handed us 48 tickets, which shocked me.

"It must be the last day," I told Ming.  "Maybe they want to get rid of them."

When I was on my way in, a guy standing by the door asked me a question I couldn't hear.  "What?" I asked, but I kept walking.  He mumbled that I should buy him some fried chicken.

I was really revolted by the idea.  "No," I said.  I guess because I don't eat chicken?  I was surprised by the strength of my reaction.

Ming looked at the receipt and told me 48 tickets was the amount we were supposed to get.

I started ripping open the tickets.  I realized I was gambling.  Normally I'm opposed, but it seemed silly to not get whatever free thing there might be a ticket for.

My fingers turned blue from the blue print on the tickets, but I got through them all.  We won four things, and then there were four tickets that were for two more tickets.

So Ming went to get the free things--crackers, water, candy, and aspirin, all particular brands and sizes.  I stayed in the minivan.

He came back empty-handed.  "What happened?" I asked.

He explained that none of the things we won were in stock.  Some there were empty places on the shelf.

"Did you tell someone?" I asked.

"Yeah, she just looked at me," Ming said.

All that gambling for nothing.  When I washed my hands, the blue mostly came off.

We're leaving for a short trip.  We're staying in a little house by a river.  We bought some mosquito repellent.  Wish us luck.