You are too big to be Jesus

Birthday gift! It is party time. The big 50. Lots of balloons, singing helium balloons, Tweety singing happy birthday helium balloon was my favorite, but there were 5-6 others. Yummy appetizers and wonderful food. Fish...what kind of fish? Oh, one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Lots of fun-loving folks. We discussed movies, fast cars, new bright yellow boats, high school yearbook messages, the fate of Pluto. Planet or not a planet. What if your horoscope was based on Pluto's influence? Now what?

Shall we sing along with Oklahoma or Rocky Horror. Lets do the Time Warp again, or maybe just watch. Not enough for some but way too much for others. They do not make cult classics like they used to. "Snakes on a Plane" Please! Give me Rocky so big on a giant HD flatscreen, I can see Tim Curry's 5 o'clock shadow under his makeup.

Then there was a guy who was considering a part in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat. Someone suggested he play Moses...his striking jock image, type cast...but no, he said, I want to play Jesus, then the question skips around the laughter...you are too big to play Jesus. How do we know? I mean I agree...too big, too craggy, too cut.

And I am to big to play Mary: too flabby, too immodest, too profane. and to old to be the next Shirley Temple. I'm 50 too, no 54...too old. But I so enjoyed being there for someone else, turning 50, throwing herself a big party with a chocolate fountain, build your own cocktail bar, and then find your way home in the dark.>

Driftwood horse

Munch, munch, no wonder I'm so skinny and dried up. Only one meager weed is within my reach. I have many brothers and sisters around the world. Funny, it must be genetic; skinny, bony, looks like driftwood that has been turned to bronze for sculptures that last.

Echoes of August. Hot, dry, clear blue sky after Marine layer burns off in California. Long summer working for that hourly wage. Not clear why any more. A say, "get as much as you can from this gig", who knows what is next. Could be worse. Could be a bronze cast of a driftwood horse. I so relate to the site, the sight, driving out the back way from the hourly gig...hot dry August, in California. I love it. Days get shorter. Evenings are cool. We all feel like moving around again.

Going to the frogs

Slipped out of a hammock yesterday; just a graceless plop, but reminiscent of the graceless dismounts I executed when learning to ski, and reaching the end of the T lift, in Vermont. The hammock was up Calaveras county way, near Big Trees and Murphys' Shakespeare at the local winery, where they pour really full plastic cups of their wonderful Cab. But the bouquet was slightly spoiled by the fumes of bug spray that necessarily save the evening from turning into a feeding frenzy for the bugs.

Shared the lake swimming with ducks, all females for some reason. The water was warm at the surface but cold if you dropped your feet down, and filled with grass that got tangled in your toes. Very clear and clean but still, showered thoroughly after swimming around for an hour or so. So quiet and peaceful, we paddled out past the platforms and toward the far end where no one else hung out. Lake swimming, have not done that since the late 70's.

We drove up early in the morning so practically flew past highways that are often clogged with Bay Area traffic. Driving home today was not so pleasurable. Plus, had to face the end of the weekend. Plus, seemed like someone had a wild party at my townhouse while I was gone.

Whatever. I was having a wild time working on a laser cut limited edition wood jigsaw puzzle and gazing at the starry sky between the tall trees. Little brown bats buzzed us. Who knew I should not have slept well at all last night. Time for my princess to move it on out. I'm not happy living with her anymore. I am only happy when I'm away.