Where Is It?

Where is it

Have you seen it

When did you have it last

Did you look in the drawer

I'll help you look for it

Can you use something else

Only if we can't find it

Why do you need it right now

Can this wait until tomorrow

No, I'm in the middle of something

This is a typical day in the little hippie house. We take turns losing things and then we both spend time looking for them. Good thing we don't have anything else to do. Ha.

First Grade Memories

When my youngest child started first grade, she chose to walk to school with the group of kids in our area. It was only two blocks to school. None of the other parents were walking with their children, so after the first couple days I acquiesced and stopped walking with her.

After a couple weeks of this arrangement, I noticed bruises on my daughter's back and butt when I would check on her getting in and out of her nightly bath. The bruising was so horrendous and I would ask how she was getting bruised. It was odd that the bruises were on her backside and not on arms or legs like she would get if she was being too daring on the monkey bars which was her favorite activity. She was always a climber. She was small for her age and she would climb trees and other adults would get so nervous and ask her to come down. She was competitive and would do tricks on the monkey bars and encourage other kids to do them too.

My daughter was the smallest child walking in the group to and from school. Apparently, boys in the fifth and sixth grades would try to intimidate the younger children. And because they were not able to instill fear in my daughter, they would kick her on her back and butt. Thus,the bruises.

The hours I worked at the time were 11 PM to 7 AM. So when I left work I would go home and get my daughter ready and walk her to school. I did speak to the principal about the boys hurting her but I didn't hear anything about a follow up or any action. I would help in the cafeteria occasionally and continued walking her to school the rest of the school year. This kind of negative response would follow her throughout her school years. It was as if she had "kick me hormones" that drew bullies to her.

I have more posts to come about my daughter and her troubles in school.

Riding In My Little MG

Living in a part of southern California with multiple freeways, I would think of the Jetsons as I drove around in my little red MG. It was necessary for a driver to be prepared and in the correct lanes in order to travel around the busy highways.

One day I was driving home after a disappointing job interview, keeping my mind on the business of driving, and scooting bad thoughts of the interview out of the little car every time they tried to get my attention.

A few blocks from home, I down shifted and prepared for the freeway exit. The engine revved instead of the nice hum of shifting down into third gear. The rubber mat was stuck under the pedal. I was going too fast to make the swerve to the right and in an instant I had to make a decision. Ram into the cars who were to the right waiting at the stop sign or turn left and go over the cliff.

I chose left.

The car rolled around and around as it went down the embankment, dirt flying onto the windshield, my knee hitting the steering column, and the whole experience was like flying. It was silence in the car. I was alone except for the angel helping me land safely. The little red MG landed on the right side of the busy freeway and the car was heading in the right direction.

It took a couple minutes for me to realize that it was over. I took stock of the situation, felt my leg and arms and decided I wasn't even hurt, so I disengaged the seat belt and opened the door which was difficult because so much dirt was packed against the door. I crawled out and looked around. The car had taken down a few signs along the freeway. As I looked up there were about twenty people looking over the rim down at me and I wanted to laugh at their expressions. Their eyes were huge and their mouths were wide open. They were astonished at how safely I landed and I appeared to be all right. Some of those people climbed down and helped me up the hill by making a human ladder and then someone with a cell phone asked me what number I wanted them to call for someone to come get me.

That MG was a strong and safe little car. The tires automatically deflated and the car remained upright instead of going into a roll. The top was on the car that day which meant I was in a steel encased area except for the windows are quite small. The safety features on the MG kicked in and the angel held my hand and I had a ride of my life.

The Record Player

The parents were divorced for about a year when I received a Christmas present from my father. He had not sent a present for a holiday or birthday so this was a new experience.

My gift was a small record player. A little box with a handle and a fastener to open the box. The lid lifted up and the record player was inside. It would play 33s and after setting the attachment on the spindle it would play 45s.

There weren't any records with the record player but I had some babysitting money saved so I walked to the store for my first big purchase. I bought 45s. Hound Dog. See You Later, Alligator. Rock Around The Clock. Peggy Sue. Wake Up Little Susie. Bonie Moronie. I get goose bumps just thinking of the fun songs back then.

My record playing days and dancing in my room were short lived. A few months after Christmas a bill collector removed my record player and my records from the house while I was at school. Evidently my father never made one payment. Even back then I had to laugh at how typical that was for my father. A grand gesture that lasted a short time. I think he meant well but he was not working and he moved around from state to state and sometimes in Mexico in his alcoholic, destitute life. Of course I was disappointed that my record player was not really mine after all. But I still had my radio.

A Hug And Kiss Can Be Sensual

A gentle kiss
Soft warm breath
Lips curving, a smile

Hands slowly moving
Almost a tickle of delight
Goose bumps of pleasure

Eyes burning with longing
Sighing with patience
Caressing visually

Luxuriating in gladness
Enfolding me in love
Audible intensification

Stormy Weather

A truly fine photograph on The Smitten Image caused my brain to relate my life experiences to things of nature. The photo Hilary posted of a summer storm looks like she took the picture in black and white. As she explains in the post "This photo wasn't taken in black and white but the weather seemed to turn everything into monochrome."

I like black and white photos, but in real life, I enjoy colors all around me. I even dream in color, TechnoBabe's technicolor dreams!

When I get in a funk, or not in sync, my perspective is damaged. Things start looking dull, bleak, cloudy, and stormy. A really horrifying inner storm tends to exhaust me. My energy is sapped. As I peer out from under my pouty eyes the colors are gone. At least the happy, sunny vibrant colors are gone. What I see with my eyes while feeling depressed is not true colors because my vision is polluted by the poison within.

Thank goodness this doesn't happen often or last very long anymore. Understanding the things over a lifetime that have caused me to make bad choices has helped me become stronger and happier. There will occasionally be choppy water and storm clouds in life, but it isn't given the power anymore to contaminate my life.


The picture in this post was found on google; be sure to see the gorgeous photo of the stormy weather at the lake on Hilary's blog.

Traveling To Dreamland

After an intensely busy day
With much accomplished
It's time to relax

Letting go of tasks undone
Blotting out the nagging chores
Big sigh, Relax

Nothing else to work on today
Feeling pleasure in achievement
Satisfaction in my bones


No longer on the clock
Unfinished tasks are unimportant
Tomorrow is another day

Winding down, muscles relaxed
Enjoying life in the moment
Celebrating the song within

A light breeze tickles my neck
The open window provides ventilation
Evening shadows transmit a quiet melody

Slowly my breathing becomes regular
Little snorts of peace
Grace my lips and affirm sleep.

Photo courtesy of deviantart

Blogger Organizations Based On Age

Have you seen the various blogger groups based on age? I saw one the other day called Studio 30 Plus. That's a cool name I think. And I have seen other "clubs" or groups for older people. Forty And Over.

I have been thinking of starting a blogger club for my age group. It has been fun trying to find the right name for the group.


Sixty And Still Sexy
Sixty Percent Perfect
Flower Children Turn Sixty
Six Decades Dense
Over Sixty But Not Over The Hill

By the time I find the best name the club in the fifties now will be joining the sixties club!

Just Another Family Story

What happens in families
Screwed together in rage
They give in to the devil

Little boy's cries heard daily
A belt buckle leaving welts
His head hangs before the devil

Little girl is younger and weaker
Little boy is full of rage
His sinister smile is of the devil

Little boy ties her hands firmly
To the clothesline posts out back
He drinks in revenge of the devil

Little girl now has welts and bruises
The whipping post has accomplished it
No longer will she give in to the devil

The everyday bruises turn different colors
The everyday pain constantly hidden
The name of the devil is shame


Note: The shame is what the children live with in the family, not shame on their part.

Patriot Day

The Older We Get.....

A group of forty year old girlfriends discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed that they would meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the waiters there were good looking and had buff bodies.

Ten years later the then fifty year old gals once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed that they would meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the food and wine selection there was so good.

Ten years later at sixty years of age the group once again decided to meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because it wasn't noisy and the restaurant had a beautiful view of the ocean.

Ten years later at seventy years old the group once again discussed where they should meet. It was agreed they would meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the restaurant was wheel chair accessible and there was also an elevator.

Ten years later the eighty year old women discussed where to meet for dinner and they decided they would meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because they had never been there.


This was sent to me by a friend. One I wish I could meet for dinner every ten years at the Ocean View Restaurant!

Sitting On The Back Porch

Sitting on the back step
Facing the alley
Quiet and almost happy

She was twelve years old
Her friend in the same class
Friends since first grade

The sun filtered in trees
Sounds off in the distance
Too young for heavy discussions

He reached over and kissed her cheek
Not touching any other body part
No arms around or clinging

No one had kissed her at all yet
Still it didn't sink in or upset her
It just was something in the moment

Suddenly her mother screamed
Pushed the back door into their backs
Calling her names and shrieking

She honestly did not know what it meant
What was a whore, was it a tramp
Why didn't she feel dirty like she should

The mother told the boy to go home
And never come back
Another friend lost

Labor Day

The first Labor Day in the United States was observed in 1882 to celebrate various labor associations' strengths and contributions to the United States economy. I was born a few years after that, but Labor Day was a day for celebrating whether you were wealthy or living in poverty. Labor Day is a state holiday in all fifty states in the US. Our neighbors to the north in Canada also celebrate Labor Day on the same day.

According to the website of the US Dept of Labor, "Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country."

There are still some things to be grateful for in this country. I worked many years and now am privileged to be retired. Instead of pointing out things I disagree with or feel sad about, I prefer to dwell on positive issues this Labor Day.

My wish is that people who work for someone else or are self employed enjoy this holiday. Enjoy the fruits of your labor, even if it is one day off work. Things are changing and some day there may no longer be a national holiday for the work force.


Photo courtesy of 123greetings.com.

TechnoBabe's Adventures Celebrates Four Years

I have been writing this blog since September 4, 2006.

In the end of 2008 I didn't write any posts but for the rest of the time I posted something on the average of every other day.

This has been a truly wonderful experience for me. Like playing in a big online playground.

When I began writing this blog I felt like I was not a very good writer and I was intimidated by the blogs I found that were well written. I have been especially drawn to blogs that challenge my thinking and encourage readers to try something new, be it photography or poetry or cooking or crafts.

It astounds me the amount of talent that is shared in the blogs I have been blessed to read. I have witnessed many blogs shut down and some that are on hiatus but return to blogging at a later date. My own hubby has started several blogs and shut them down. It is actually encouraging to know that blogging is not set in concrete. There are no rules or organizations to join or fees to pay. It is free and can be what each blogger wants it to be.

When it comes down to what is important me to over the past four years it isn't the number of followers or comments left on a post that rings my bell, it is the acceptance of the people who choose to read my blog. Accepting this little hippie blog. Warts and all.

Thank you from the bottom of my pea pickin' heart. Today is indeed a day to celebrate.
Please share the celebration with me. Share a smile with someone today.

Together

Every day is special
We make it that way
Together

The joy of seeing you smile
Our morning hugs and coffee
Together

Playing games at the table
Sharing cooking duties
Together

Knowing we can count on each other
Committed till death do us part
Together

Our five year anniversary
One precious day at a time
Together

Reach Out

Stretch yourself to the limit.

Reach out every chance you have.

Take that moment to make eye contact and reach out.

Make the connection.

Give of yourself unselfishly.

Think of others.

The minuscule seed will grow if you nurture it.

Let go of petty differences.

They don't matter.

They don't shake the earth.

They put up barriers instead of open doors and open hearts.

We all hurt sometimes.

We all bleed sometimes.

We all have needs.

We all matter.

So reach out.

And mean it.

Graphic courtesy of deviantart.

Ensenada, Mexico

When she was ten years old, her parents were divorced. Her father wasn't living with them very much the past couple years and when he was home, he was drinking with his buddies. Two or three of his friends would drop by when they felt like it and ignore the fact that there was a wife and two kids living there. The men would pour beer down the cat's throat and set its tail on fire. The jeering wasted little boys were impersonating grown men.

Right after the divorce she was informed that her father had remarried. But in a year he had divorced his second wife and married a young nightclub dancer who lived in Ensenada, Mexico.

It wasn't until she graduated from high school and was married herself that she and her husband moved back to southern California. They spent weekends driving to Ensenada to see her father. The young couple would sleep on her father's fishing boat while he stayed with his wife and their little girl in an apartment in town.

Her father had many friends in Ensenada. The wives took her under their wing and taught her to cook good Mexican dishes. They spoke only Spanish so she dusted off her two years of high school Spanish and made friends with them, accepting their tutelage in cooking and their good natured advice on keeping her new husband.

Most weekend nights she and her husband spent walking behind her father as he roamed from bar to bar, sometimes stopping in to watch the exotic dancing his wife performed.

When she became pregnant, she and her husband stopped going to Ensenada on weekends and began preparing for their first child. Not long after their child was born her father divorced his second wife, remarried his second wife and they moved to Chapala, Mexico. It was many years later that she saw her father again on the occasion of her first child's high school graduation. By that time her father's daily drinking and three pack a day cigarette smoking habit had taken its toll. He could not be without his oxygen tank. The emphysema had progressed to where he fought for each breath but he continued to smoke three packs of unfiltered Camels every day. He flew to be in town for the graduation of her daughter and also her nephew but her father was unable to attend the ceremonies. He lasted two more years. He was found sitting at his kitchen table with his face in his food. He was 64 years old.

Photo is of my father next to his fishing boat. He was 45 years old in the picture. I wonder if my brother has this picture. I doubt it. It surprises me how much my brother looks like our father. My brother is older now that our father was when he died.

Hey, Buddy, Got The Time?

For almost a year I have not worn a watch. I have not used the alarm clock. When I was still working, I would set the alarm clock but I would usually wake up before the alarm was due to startle me awake.

Unless I have an appointment there is no need to know what time it is. I don't watch television so I am not waiting for a special show. I eat when I am hungry as opposed to a certain meal time.

Just that one change in my life has brought such peace. Eliminating the need to know what time it is has given me all the time in the world.

Country Living

Living in the country has its own rewards
Plenty of space for animals and gardens
Four acres of elbow room

The family lived in a rented house
Large chicken coop and fenced chicken yard
Pigeons and pigs and cows and rabbits

This is the best they had lived so far
The two children thought they were rich now
There was food to eat and even time to play

Country living meant no neighbors near by
Also no need for curtains on windows
Privacy was automatic given the setting

The little girl didn't want to go to bed
She said someone was looking in her window
The parents laughed at her and sent her to bed

The bed time skirmish continued several nights
Her bedroom window was facing the side of the house
She began sleeping on the floor next to her bed

Finally the parents walked around outside the house
There were footprints and cigarette butts at her window
They told her about their discovery

Then they told her to stop being a baby and go to bed.

Laundry

Typical laundry day at TechnoBabe and James little hippie house. We hang clothes on the line together. It is a peaceful and pleasant back yard. Even the clothes are happy here.