Oscar turned me on to some kick-ass Ska, the perfect soundtrack for my departure from the Big City. As farmland opened up before me and the mother tongue filled my ears, I couldn't help but reflect upon an important man-hole cover message I saw at Venice Beach
Lest we forget...
I talk a lot about how much I love this phone. Even after I upgraded to Super Phone, I longed and returned to my orange enV. Days later, I was walking out of Burger King when a passerby asked, "Still love that Beaver Phone?" Stuttering and grinning I assured him, that, indeed, I'm still in love with my phone ♥
We met Buddha on Venice Beach, December 2000. It was Hayden who introduced us, by running enthusiastically towards the table supporting 100s of them. His two-year-old self knew exactly what he needed, Hannah's choice quickly followed. Theirs are mixed among their treasures; mine still lives on the dash of the car. Happy Travels, indeed ♥ 
Birthday photos, celebrating 3rd and 1st years completions, respectively. 
Hayden and Mitch, mid 2000I say ... and you think ... ?
Dogma :: Karma; as in running over your...
After 17 months as an Oregonian, green has become a staple to my existence. The sight and scent were both acutely missed while my California view remained some version of this drab perspective; complete with the windshield bug decoration.
One day I'm in junior high, thinking about singing group tryouts and other 13-year-old thoughts, when the principal comes to the door, Arnie Bauer. I'll never forget him, such a sweet, sweet man. He gently led me to the hallway and explained that my grandfather had suffered a stroke and I was needed to care for my young cousins so Aunt Donna could be with her father, the aforementioned Grampa Harm Tilstra. My mom had instructed him to put me on the city bus, though he felt it was enough of an emergency to drive me himself, in his very own car. He comforted me on that ride, the first time I'd ever heard sincere platitudes. It was great comfort and it shifted, once again, the rhythm of my Dance with Death.
The first couple of days were blurred by the juggling of younger cousins. The feeling of being shut out of the whole process eventually came to a head. I demanded they break the rules, fudge my age (under 14s were not allowed off the elevator in those days & I looked 12!), whatever needed to be done so I could see my Grampa!! Tomorrow they said, tomorrow. Ah, I was so relieved, I would see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears, hug with my own arms!!
revealed too much make up on his dead-and-never-been-make-upped upper lip. And his hair was laying down on his head, instead of flopped over one ear, waiting to be pushed back up and over by his pinky-missing-hand. They'd probably buttoned both sides of his always-one-side-flappin union suit. Next time, they said, next time. I didn't believe them. I don't think Joanna did either; this funeral just done ruined her 3rd birthday, so she locked herself in the car. Smart kid. 