TWC is the wine swilling mayor of Two Guns Arizona who was formerly a prolific wine blogger. Some of that remains and to get right to the wine reviews without further distraction, click The Wine Commonsewer Speaks. The rest of the enchilada is an eclectic mix of commentary on culture, food, tax, and econ 101.
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Earlier this morning, my mother, Lorraine May, was laid to rest at Arlington. Laid to rest is an archaic phrase I suppose. Interred is more appropriate, but laid-to-rest sort of personalizes it a bit for moi. Time tends to get away from me and the realization that today was the day touched me a bit more deeply than I expected.
This is mom and her sisters in 1939. Ma's holding the dog, Buff.
Looks like it's summer for the rest of February here in So Cal. Or at least late spring. Global Warming FTW!
Right after the coffee is made, I generally take the dogs down the hill to see a man about a horse. You know, to use the facilities. There's a fair sized flat spot that I had a guy with a D8 Cat carve out of solid granite fifteen years ago. It's where most of the citrus and what's left of the other fruit trees live. I pruned the apricot tree ten days ago and I'd noticed that it was about to leaf out. This morning? Voila! There's about 30-40 open blossoms. Come actual summer, the birds will likely beat us to the fruit, but the flowers are pretty enough to enjoy now.
Today is a Day of Remembrance, the purpose of which is to commemorate the war-time internment of guys like my old friend, Ike. He was Akira Yonehara, file number 711037, an American citizen, born in Los Angeles who had never traveled to Japan. He spent most of the war years at the camp in Heart Mountain, Wyoming. When he'd talk about it at all, he always called it *camp* never Heart Mountain.
The Boy and I stopped at Manzinar for a few hours. This is the cemetery and the view is to the west with the Sierra Nevada range just a few miles away. I believe that Ike was detained at Manzinar briefly before he and his family were shipped off to Wyoming.
I loved Ike's stories of growing up in pre-war Los Angeles. I should have taken notes, but when I was 27 years old, I had a remarkable memory and I never thought I'd forget any of them. Now most have faded with time and that's a shame.
Many of us are familiar with Aloe Vera and we often enjoy the fruits of its existence. In our potions and lotions, and especially in the magic elixir that makes sunburn pain subside. But the flowers? It's been nigh on summer here at the Casa and the Aloe Vera is in the very early stage of bloom. Looks like this.....
Most of you don't know that TWC owns hundreds of coffee cups. This was one of my favorites and was in service for several years when my kids were small.
Then one day, as I picked up the cup, the handle snapped right off, dumping an entire mug of Joe all over the counter top. Here's the thing, unless you drop a cup off of a building or set it on the rear bumper of the truck and drive off, that spot where the handle attaches is always the weak point. Maybe they should use epoxy.
It was the day after Andrew Coulson passed away and I was out front working on the slumpstone column that one of the rod iron gates is bolted to. Pandora was playing some decent old-time classic rock. Good physical labor workin' music. And then the computer slipped in this Gordon Lightfoot tune. I've always been sort of a folkie at heart and though I hadn't heard this tune in such a long, long time it still puts me in a mind about my missus.
A lotta of people have left us recently, and I don't mean just the celebs and aging rock stars. People we knew, some well, some very personal, like my Ma. I don't intend to brood, but it comes without warning, and the tune seemed to bring a flicker of that reality, so there it was. Besides, losing a parent tends to bring the inevitable into a more clear focus, and it's quite a ways past hump day for this old hand.
It turned out that the melancholy was momentary and as Lightfoot wrapped it up, it occurred to moi that it means so much to me, to be the one who's telling her that she's beautiful. The next thought was; dammit man, we need to celebrate this life. Because we're alive. Simple as that.
Artist Saimir Strati spent a month of very long days and almost 230,000 corks to create a mural of corks he calls Romeo with a crown of grapes playing the guitar while dancing with the sea and the sun, which is an homage the Mediterranean lifestyle.
