OC Fair - July 2008

I went to the Orange County Fair last Saturday. And had a lot of fun. After the quilt show it was another exciting opportunity to people watch. And also to animal watch. In some cases, there wasn’t a whole lot of difference.

The highlights included the animals (especially a one-week-old wobbly baby goat), and the Peking Acrobats (who do things with their bodies that defy physiology). My stomach sort of hurt after watching the acrobats perform, but I did purchase their DVD both to give them some support and to be able to prove to myself (and anyone else who might think I am exaggerating) I really did see people performing those tricks and it wasn’t all made up in my head. Don’t miss the Peking Acrobats if you ever have a chance to see them.

I ate popcorn and cotton candy and was reminded about the weaknesses built in to my digestive system. Maybe my mistake was to eat them at the same time. Maybe it was the Coke that washed it all down. Maybe it was doing all of that on an empty stomach. Maybe it was doing all of that after watching the Peking Acrobats. But it was worth it…I think.

I talked to a beekeeper about colony collapse disorder and got to see a queen bee up close for the first time. The beekeepers seemed pretty concerned about the diminishing bee population and told me the price of almonds in California is likely to skyrocket as a result. A little boy next to me asked, “Where is the king bee?” His face fell when the bee keeper disappointed him by informing him of the nonexistence of a king bee. “What??? No king bee?” His mother pulled him away from the bees before he could cause a scene.

The fair was very crowded which meant no opportunity to sit down for about five or six hours. It also meant more wheelchairs and walkers and strollers and wagons. I don’t think I had enough practice from the day before at the quilt show. Hobbling out to the car, I whined about my feet, and wondered how the acrobats were feeling after three performances.

I caught a glimpse of the elephant ride on the way to the exit and just had to snap one more shot (after all, the elephant was posing for her picture) before having my own collapse disorder into the front seat of the car.

Some sample photos:

Crazy Quilt

Today my mom and I went to an International Quilt Show being held in Long Beach. It was as much fun to look at the quilts as to watch all the people. Gather enough people in one crowded convention center and you witness all kinds of human behavior. Interesting how the more people that gather the more aggression gets expressed, as if in some weird twist on survival of the fittest a form of primal fear takes over that there will not be enough quilting supplies to go around at the hundreds of vendors present, so the best strategy to insure securing that one-of-a-kind piece of fabric is to use a walker and/or wheelchair to run down anyone who stands in the way.

It was like a feeding frenzy at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I had no idea ladies who quilt could be so formidable. Some of them seemed to have preconceived a formal strategy. I could imagine some of them sitting around their quilt circles and instead of talking about the Dresden Plate quilt they had been planning to put together they’re working out a tactical plan of attack for canvassing this convention. I heard the word “caravan” mentioned a few times.

I discovered it was unwise to underestimate those who appeared frail, and was reminded of a line from an “I Love Lucy” episode…”Just because there’s snow on the roof doesn’t mean there’s no fire in the furnace.”

At one point I finally stood my ground and put an elbow out, a desperate attempt to show I belonged there. I was no match for the professionals.

It was an enormously fun day spent with my mom, laughing a lot, and resulting in some wonderful inspiration for creativity. It was time spent together walking the aisles and admiring the amazing accomplishments of the very same ladies let loose in the convention center.

We ended the afternoon first by eating some nectarines and a granola bar on the convention steps outside in the beautiful sunshine, and then adjourning to Marie Callender’s for a slice of fresh peach pie and ice cream, feeling we had earned it.

Unfortunately I forgot to bring my camera, so instead I’ve posted a picture of one of the blooming geraniums on my back patio, a wonderful spot to relax and unwind after the body slamming event today.

Update on Giant Sequoia

Remember the Giant Sequoia from this previous post?

I’m giddy with the excitement to see this first little sproutling.

We have a lot of growing to look forward to together.

Tags: giant sequoia

Contradictions

I am admittedly not the best traveler. My already temperamental stomach rebels against any changes in diet, which leads to anxieties, which makes the stomach worse, etc. And if there is any chance at all of getting food poisoning, that chance will find me.

It has not been an easy week.

I’m thinking maybe I need to travel more often. Even if it means being sicker, even if it means being really uncomfortable. Even if it means pacing hotel room floors into the night. It’s scary. It’s exciting. It’s a contradiction.

I love seeing new places. Being removed from the habits and the same scenery and the same people and the same weather freshens my perspective. I feel a deeper gratitude for the wonderful points of living where I do, and am reminded of how much I take for granted. But I am also awakened to the warts that exist where I live, warts I am more apt to be blinded to when living in it every day.

I feel a deeper connection to a larger world outside my little living space but at the same time feel disconnected from the small world I think of as home, as if it is a million miles away.

I feel like I am becoming more comfortable living with contradiction. As I cautiously peer deeper inside myself I am finding a lot of contradiction. To my surprise I am slowly becoming more okay with that. Instead of running away from the things I don’t like (which isn’t possible anyway), and trying so hard to put on a mask of perfection (which doesn’t exist anywhere except in my own illusion), I am actually cracking open up the treasure chest to find there exists both darkness and light. It seems to be okay so far.

The biggest surprise is there hasn’t yet been anything in there I can’t look at. It’s uncomfortable and scary and sometimes humiliating, but definitely do-able. Thoughts that have been habits for years easily lead down some familiar well-worn paths, but I see those thoughts as habits that have become comfortable to me because they are familiar and I have falsely associated them with some sort of moral advancement. I grew up in Catholicism. Guilt and self-flagellation are easy for me.

Self awareness and improvement doesn’t seem to be about denying the parts I would prefer to reject, running around in circles trying to get away from those parts. Closer to the truth is becoming comfortable in the presence of all of me, the contradictions, the mistakes, the junk, the weaknesses, the strengths, the beauty, the ugliness, the joy, the sorrow … and just let it all coexist as part of the total of who I am, acceptable to myself as a whole person without trying so hard to define who I am for myself and everyone else.

I have been in the desert of Arizona for a few days. There are contradictions everywhere. At first I found myself focusing on the things I hated about this place. This morning peeking out the window it looks stunningly beautiful.

mourning into dancing

This hydrangea has been with me for several years. For most of its life it has been on the verge of death and has never once bloomed in all the time I have had it. Even when it had dwindled down to a single brown stick in a pot I continued to water it and move it around to different locations to see if varying the sun exposure would make any difference.

Evidently I got something right this year because it is healthy and lush with large deep green leaves, new growth and enormous pom-pom explosions of color.

Sometimes when by all appearances there is only death, new life blossoms again.

The Guest House

Giant Sequoia

The Giant Sequoia has been called the “godlike giant of the Golden Age”. The seeds of the Giant Sequoia are among the tiniest in the world of trees, yet the trees that grow from them are the largest living things on earth. Ancient Giant Sequoias grow to heights of more than 300 feet and have trunks up to 36 feet in diameter. These giants have a lifespan of more than 3,000 years, second only to the Bristlecone Pine for longevity.

On June 14, 2008, I planted a Giant Sequoia. It has been sitting in its miniature greenhouse in my refrigerator ever since. Tonight it came out of its artificial hibernation and has been placed in the warm outdoors. I await with hope and anticipation the first signs of germination. For now, it still slumbers, and as I watch over its sleep I offer a prayer for its life to come.

I dream of what the tiny seed sitting on my patio may become, the life this tree may live, what it may see long after I am gone. I dream of the energy of its presence, pray for its majesty and the peace it may bring, and offer it love and tender care in these days of its infancy, providing an environment that will nurture its growth so that some day I may send it like a time capsule into the future with the memory of the woman’s heart that first planted it and tended to it and encouraged it to grow and become all it was meant to be.

Tags: giant sequoia

tides

It feels like walking into an old empty building and shouting out and hearing echoes of your own voice coming back.

It’s also sort of like sitting on the shore and watching the tide come in and go out, seeing the initials you wrote in the sand fade away with each wash of salty water. Then you move up further on the beach and try again.

The little sand crabs burrow down as the water washes out, hoping to escape the beak of a hungry feathered predator. Lifting up the sand underneath the little burrow holes you can feel the tiny crab wiggle around and tickle your hand.

Sand castles were always so much fun. Made out of nothing more than a bucket and some sand and the right amount of water, packed in tightly and then dumped upside down, temporary sculptures toppled down with a wave, only to be built back up again.

I always loved eating grapes at the beach.