Father, I Can Not Tell a Lie: I Cut the Tree

The cherry tree myth is one of the oldest and best-known legends about George Washington. In the original story, when Washington was six years old, he received a hatchet as a gift and damaged his father’s cherry tree with it. 

In a strange way this story was a part of my childhood. Growing up we had a large cherry tree near our garage. Once a year, one of our neighbors would drag over a ladder, pick a load of cherries and then bake yummy cherry pies.  We always got the first pie and it was delicious. 

I just went on Google Earth to look at my childhood home. I am sad to report that the cherry tree is gone. Guess the ghost of George Washington cut it down. 

 

Hillside Road

It seems the older I get, the less brave I am. For example, I absolutely hate being a passenger when the driver (Tony) is speeding, as he usually does. I tend to close my eyes and hope for the best. But despite my fear of speeding, as a child I loved sledding down Hillside Road after a winter snowfall. The faster the better. 

Now, don't get me wrong. I was never a brave child. But I do recall my mother shared that as a toddler they actually had to tie me to the crib because I used to crawl out when no one was looking. I wish I could recapture that brevity, but alas at least I have the memory.

 

Geraniums symbolize Friendship, Protection and Happiness

For the last 10 + years we have had white azaleas in the front yard. Azaleas are nice flowers, but they never added anything to our mid-century ranch. Recently a memory from my childhood resurfaced and I recalled how much my mother loved the geraniums that grew on the side of our house. I asked Raoul, our gardener, if geraniums would do well in place of the azaleas and he enthusiastically said YES! The front yard would be the perfect spot to grow geraniums.

That is, until he planted 4 tiny pots of geraniums. I was so disappointed because they looked so lonely and I lamented how they would never look as good as my memory.

And then as if by magic, they started to grow and filled the front lawn with vibrant coral/red flowers. The memory is now perfect.  

A gift from Cassandra

Life is not made of the number of breaths we take, but of the moments that take our breath away.

SOURCE UNKNOWN

Our true home is the present moment. To live in the present moment is a miracle. The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green Earth in the present moment.

THICH NHAT HANH

My favorite piece of music is the one we hear all the time if we are quiet.

JOHN CAGE

You and I are flesh and blood, but we are also stardust.

HELENA CURTIS

 

Start Spreading the News

Every New Year’s Eve at 9:00 PM PST, Tony and I watch the ball drop in Times Square. After a quick kiss we attempt to dance to NY NY. I never tire of our ritual and as we sip our prosecco we laugh and dream about the upcoming year. Will we finally get rid of the orange turd? Can we plan for a future where equality matters? It’s a bit early to celebrate 2027, but not to early to plan my trip to NY. I’m ready. Set. Let’s GO!! 

 

Three strikes and you’re out!

I was never a big fan of the Dodger Baseball team. What happened last Thursday confirmed my decision not to support the team. The Dodgers went to the White House to celebrate their 2025 World Series Win, and the owners of the team gifted the OT* a world series ring, jersey and hat. All the players who attended smiled at the cameras and shook hands with the OT*. However, there were three brave players who chose not to attend.

Introducing my new favorite baseball players - Kike Hernandez, Mookie Betts and Edgardo Henriquez. They had the courage to stand up for democracy and not bow down to the OT*.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

*OT Orange Turd

 

Aunt Jean’s Gift #1

When my wonderful Aunt Jean at 90+ young decided to move to a retirement home, she began giving away some of her beloved belongings. Because she and Tony shared a deep love of martinis, the first gift she gave me was a martini glass for Tony. She didn’t remember who had given it to her, but whoever had, obviously knew her well.

At the time, nearly 10 years ago, I was a wine drinker. If I ever indulged in a martini, it was a Lemon Drop. And then as if by magic, everything changed a year ago when I tasted an Espresso Martini. Indescribably delicious. I will admit that I did steal Aunt Jean's martini glass from Tony. In my defense it wasn't entirely my fault. I blame the crime on Trader Joe’s for selling $10 bottles of pre-mixed Espresso Martinis. 

Yes, I love the martini glass, but the best gift she gave us was her love. We miss her.