bobWHITE bobWHITE!

Dear Tony,

Tweet tweet! Chirp chirp!
Hooo hooo! Quack quack!
Cooo cooo!
BobWHITE bobWHITE!

A little bird told me I should send you a card to let you know you're in my thoughts.
the sentiment printed in the card

Yeah, I just had to throw on that last one! You probably even hear those birds up there in Summerville. I haven't heard any here. I have doves and owls and mockingbirds. Sometimes there are robins - I've counted as many as twenty in my birdbath! I also get cardinals and sparrows and a huge woodpecker.

Two years ago, I had two tiny woodpeckers. They laid claim to my flowering pear tree, encircling the trunk with tiny rows of tiny holes. as they spiral-hopped around it one day. I took some photos from the front door, but I hadn't wanted to scare them off. The photos aren't that clear, but I know what was going on!

This week is Spring Break. I have no plans to go anywhere, either. I'm having a stay-cation, as they call it. I am going to several of the Savannah Music Festival events, though, and for free! I'm an usher for them this year! I'm signed up to work at twelve concerts. So cool!

with my love!

***** ***** *****
(And on the back of the card, a pun!
I sent him the one about the four-loaf cleaver,
as St. Patrick's Day is Tuesday.
Woohoo!!!!)

Spring Break!!

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refreshed!

I've just returned from celebrating my bird's birthday in Orlando... how nice to visit other (Sea)Worlds!

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tamales

I finally got around to turning on the tv about 10:30 tonight (hey! I was busy out and about with real people!) and watched the tail end of "Psych," one of my favorite shows for many reasons. But that would be another entry, another time. After the show ended, I thought I would see if a movie might be next up. Then, on my way to finding a movie of interest, I noticed "Good Eats" was just starting and tuned in. And there Mr. Brown was, talking about tamales. Tamales, of all things. So, I started this post, then returned to watch the show. My Daddy would have wanted it that way, you see. Tamales were his "thing." And watching a show that seamlessly combines science with everyday life is most definitely MY "thing."
So, I learned all about making tamales, in an episode titled, in his typical tongue-in-cheek style, "Tamale Never Dies." I kid you not. (My Daddy would have loved it, wishing he had been the one that came up with the name.)
The first thing I learned was the origin of the dish and of the word itself, in a South American jungle setting. I kid you not. (I truly LOVE this show. It's the ONLY one I watch on the Food Network.) "Tamale" is based on an Aztec word for "wrapped food", constructed to be portable meals for hunters and warriors on the go, made by their loving mates. The wrapper, the filling, the masa, the fabrication, and the cooking. very interesting, surprisingly easy, but one of those operations to do when you have some time on your hands, much like the making a Polish dish which uses cabbage leaves to make a Dutch oven FULL of rolled meat and rice packages. In other words, plan to spend a few hours on this dish.
So, it certainly isn't something I would normally even consider making. After all, I have a reputation as the queen of the 30-minutes-or-less meal and I am justifiably proud of that title. Not only that, but I tend to cook all in one pot, lessening the quantity of dishes to be cleaned after said meal has been enjoyed. And yet, I do find myself doing that very thing - considering the making of tamales. Still fairly theoretical, but gaining form. Why? Well, partly because tamales were such a cherished food for my father. He's been on my mind a lot these past few weeks and I see this food as a potential link between us, something to make me feel he isn't so far away. If he were still on this planet, I would have called to get his ideas on the subject and invited him to share in the repast once the project was complete.
Instead, I think I shall invite my singing bird to be my dinner guest. You see, Alton Brown also talked about the Tamale Trail in the Mississippi Delta. According to Mr. Brown, migrant Mexican workers brought their hot tamales with them to the area, where the slaves in that hot, swampy land really took to them. The Mississippi Delta, the same exact homeland of my singing bird. I think perhaps Daddy would have been right pleased about that. He and Harry could have had many a discourse on the merits of tamales, with future searches for eateries of worth which offered that culinary delicacy. Delicacy indeed! Tamales are a real man's food, made with meat and lard - yes, I said lard and I meant lard, just go ask Mr. Brown why - eaten with the hands, not forks or spoons, not even necessarily on a plate.
Yeah, I think a foray into the tamale world is on my agenda.

travels

In February of 2008, after dealing with the heartache of divorce and living alone again, I traveled to California for a week. Before I went out there, I kept telling myself and anyone who would still still long enough that I was going to reassure my family of friends out there that I was doing okay, that my emotional roller coaster ride was, at last, done. They had helped me hold tightly to my vestiges of sanity when it was after 1am here and all others I knew had been in bed at least a couple of hours. Sue and Paul had thrown out their lifelines to me, making sure I knew I was wanted, I was needed, I was loved. Now, I wanted to show them how much I appreciated having them in my life, that their hours on the phone with me had been a great success, because just look at how well-adjusted and sane I am now! That's what I said, or words to that effect. And I meant it, too.
So, off I flew. I spent Saturday through Tuesday in San Diego with my "little sister" Sue and her family, which includes three loving children she and Cyndi had adopted. It was my first time meeting the children, then 6, 5, and 3, and IT WAS GREAT! I reveled in the constant touch and interaction that little ones are so adept at providing. Every morning, I woke to one or more children trying to get in bed and snuggle with me. Every day I played games and had children climbing all over me, trying to sit behind me on the couch, playing around my feet. And the two dogs? Oh, they loved me! So much attention I got, so much tactile contact! On the Sunday, I got to be part of the oldest girl's belated birthday party, done with a medieval theme and attended by Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, princesses, knights, the Good Fairy, and Cinderella. Wow! I even had a purple and green sea turtle painted on my face! The next day, Cyndi took me to some of my old stomping grounds by the naval base and out to the children's school to meet some of their teachers. On Tuesday, I got to spend some time one-on-one with Sue, talking and laughing like we did in college, having a drink or two along the way. Overall, not a fancy time, but a good time, a time of sharing each others' lives up close.
I got so very, very spoiled, but I didn't realize just how much until later. Sure, I did cry a little when I left them on the Wednesday to fly up to San Francisco. But I made sure they didn't see the tears because the two children who had come along didn't want me to go, either and I didn't want them to cry. But I had friends in El Cerrito waiting for me, my best friend Paul and his wife, and I was just as eager to see them. I had not yet even met Cathy!
They met me at the airport with open arms and loving hearts and took me immediately to one of their favorite sushi houses. The rest of my stay with them was spent constantly in their company, starting every day with Paul at one of his two favorite coffee houses. We spent the days going to standard tourist spots and doing standard tourist things (dining at Fisherman's Wharf and gawking at the seals, walking halfway and back on the Golden Gate Bridge) but also traveling on paths less known (going to the Awards banquet for the Search And Rescue group Paul is in, picnicking at almost 4000 feet on Mount Diablo, watching the sunset on Ocean Beach). Fabulous! Sharing the places and foods they loved with me, sharing hugs and laughter and happy times with me. Oh, so very spoiled I became.
After watching the sunset over Ocean Beach (shown on my blog, but with a fogbow), we had Thai food and they dropped me off at the airport. So far, so good. I do well at entertaining myself at airports, mostly walking up and down, looking at everything. The next morning, I was greeted back in Savannah by John & Deatre and had breakfast with them and the kids. Nice welcome to my regular life! Ah! Then, that afternoon, I joined my teammates at the bowling alley and regaled them with tales of Cali and felt great!
And then I went home. To my empty house with the suitcase waiting to be unpacked. No one there to greet me, to give me hugs, to provide contact. No one to touch, no one to touch me. And... I... lost... my... mind. I cried like I had no reason to live. I had to re-learn how to be alone again. It took a couple of weeks for me to get to the point of not crying myself to sleep.
Two weeks ago, I traveled again for almost a week in Cali, this time all in San Diego. Sue met me at the airport and we went to the children's school to get my nephew from his summer camp. I shared his room while I stayed, awaking each morning to children around me. I marched with Sue's family (and the children's school) in the San Diego Pride Parade, whooping and hollering with gusto! We went to Sea World and watched the great Shamu and two of his buddies dance in the water, followed by fireworks dancing in the night sky above the immense pool. Cyndi drove me and the kids to Anaheim for California Adventures and I got to ride and ride and ride with the children! Monsters, Inc, Soaring Over California, the Muppet show - great fun! The next day, we all went to Disneyland, a novel experience for me. I had gone to Disneyworld last year (for the first time since I was 18) and we grown-ups found it quite interesting comparing the two parks. We also had a blast each having a young one to share the rides with! I went on Dumbo and Space Mountain with Dylan (now 7), Cartopia and Buzz Lightyear with Cooper (he's 6), and the Matterhorn with Riley (4 in June). What a fabulous time!
And this time, I did not fall apart when I got home. Nope, didn't happen. My singing bird saw to that, though he had not orchestrated the events. No, the cosmos and my angels had intervened on my behalf to make sure my sanity was not mangled after my trip. How so? Airtran, my preferred mode of transport to the other coast, no longer flies from Savannah... but it does travel from Charleston, home of my singing bird. So, this time, I began my Cali trip from his arms in Charleston, on an absurdly early Friday, and ended very late on a Thursday evening, again in his arms in Charleston. My singing bird sent me away with love and welcomed me back with more of the same. I stayed with him until Sunday, when I finally returned to Savannah, just as I have on previous trips to see him. I had touch, that magical sense, my drug of choice, before, during, and after my travels this time. And that has made all the difference.

a singing bird

"Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come." So says the Chinese proverb on the yellowing newsprint, held to my refrigerator by a magnet my mother gave me. And so I have and so I do. And... a singing bird has indeed come. The singing bird first appeared to me on the 25th of February, but off in the distance, too far for me to easily hear or see. For the next few days, the image of the bird was all I could espy, still off in the distance, and though its beak was in motion, I could not yet hear its song.

On Saturday, I hesitantly trilled my song out there, reaching across time and space... and the bird answered, its song sweet and steady. Nice! But the bird was still so distant and I waited to see if it would fly just a little closer... just a little closer... if I were to gently approach. And the bird came, its song a nectar in my ears, renewing my spirit with its bright notes.

Now, the bird sings to me its song of hope every night. The notes trail after me as I go to bed and echo still in the hall, in the house, in my head when I arise the next morning. The bright and cheery tune keeps a smile close to my lips and in my eyes. Perhaps, someday, the bird will come to stay in my green tree, nestled deep in my heart. Perhaps...