There are a lot of creatures to love here on Amy and Hamish's Vashon home; the handsome cat, Monk as well as two other cats, momma kitty( passionately affectionate) and Dexter,(very sick at the moment and hanging in there).

This morning started out very quiet. My friend Amy had gone off to work and Hamish and I had breakfast and a dog walk by noon. Dogs (Rooti, Lulu, Isabel, Mamacita, Sandy, and Chica) snoozed. I read the New Yorker. Hamish drove into town to buy mulch and worked in the garden. Mr. D and I instant messaged each other occasionally. This is August. Everything moves slowly. I got a tour of all the new fruit trees and flowers around the property which has changed a great deal since I was here 7 years ago.

I have returned to Vashon Island, my home away from home. Maybe it is islands in general or maybe it is this island in particular but taking that ferry ride and driving up the driveway to my friends' (Amy and Hamish) house gave me a delicious contented feeling. Or again it could be that I am missing friends and these last few days have been so satisfying seeing such people. The dogs, (Rootin'toot tooti, Isabel, Lulu, Mamacita, Chica, and Sandy) welcomed me in like good lovin' doggies. Even the cats are sociable and affectionate with me, all unknown to them.

Hello from Seattle!
I am staying with friend Mary, (see photo left, taken in Fair Oaks, CA) and her cats, Delia and Gracie. Today we went to Green Lake Park and then on to Half Price Books to find some books on tape:

(Two Gentlemen of Verona, The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell, some Garrison Keillor, and Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson) for the drive back home.

I was also able to visit with my Auntie Gail before I took the ferry over to the island.

On Friday I arrived in Portland at about 7pm after a very LONG drive up 101 and east to route 5. My cousin and his wife entertained me until my departure on Sunday morning. Most exceptional was the visit to the Japanese tea house in Portland and the lovely company. It has been a lonely two months and having family and friends to visit has been wonderful. Seattle and Portland seem very different to me. Portland seems more provincial and Seattle more funky like Berkely. As my friend Mary says, "Portland got planned, 'Seattle just happened."

Portland! with cousin and his wife. A wonderful time.

WANT SOME FUN?
TRY ROUTE 101

I packed the car this morning prepared to be away for 11 days. I brought food for the road trip to the Redwoods and then on to Portland, Oregon tomorrow. The Redwood forest is incredible.

This land is your land
This land is my land
From the Redwood forest
To the New York islands...

My first song, (my mother taught me) when I was 3 and living in California was, This Land is Your Land. I love that song and hummed it to myself as I hiked in the park today trying not to hug every single old growth tree I saw.


Tonite I am staying in Brookings, Oregon at the South Coast Inn
and just had a lovely meal at Cafe Kitanishi. The sushi chef and I chatted while he made my hand rolls. Now I am going to choose some pictures from todays adventure to post here. I think the banana slug must be included! These guys can be as big as bananas!

The Roosevelt Elk is alive and well at the Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. On two separate occasions I was surprised by them as they are not afraid of walking very close. There are signs warning people not to approach them but maybe there should also be signs for the elk "Don't startle humans"

For more information go to www.nps.gov/redw

Our new homestudy caseworker has postponed our last homestudy visit another two weeks. This is after an already extended gap between the first homestudy. It feels as though our adoption is stretching out longer and longer as time moves on.

When we do finish the homestudy, (September first week) we will be able to complete the application for our new I-600 in California. In about 2-4 weeks the powers that be will give us another fingerprinting appointment, (we have already been fingerprinted for Dep. of FBI and Child Services). After we are fingerprinted they will process our orphan petition (I-600) and ideally within 2 months grant us an approval and we will be ready for our referral.

Now that we are on hold, we don't know what our wait time is (where we are on the list). Until we come off hold we won't be told. So, this means we could be off hold between October end and November end. If we receive our referral in November we will be flying to Ethiopia in December, just in time for Christmas. Maybe before or after.

We have family flying out for Christmas. They have already booked flights. I don't know what it means in regard to flying to Ethiopia. I am trying not to calculate or think too much about it but if you know me you know I plan plan plan and then see it all fall apart.

Our case worker looks like a dark haired Uma Thurman librarian. She is very "nice" but I sort of laid it on heavy when she rescheduled.

Africa America We Belong To You

Today I made a realization that I hadn't made before and that is about the judgment that will occur not only on behalf of my European American and my Asian American brothers and sisters but also my African American brothers and sisters. Because our family is different. Because we don't belong to one nation.

But one thing we do belong to is the family of humanity. Art of Living teaches us that we are a one world family and are home everywhere. This is true whether we believe it or not.

I am saddened by the groups of people who are bound only by their perception of their own oppression. When we go to peace rallies we cannot enter into violence, be it violence of mind or body. When our brothers or sisters are tortured and killed, is torturing and killing of the murderers then justified? The joining of the Iroquois Nation was a profound lesson in forgiveness and required that many deaths go unavenged. But it forged an enlightened unity among warring tribes and is a lesson to us now and into the future.

The Oneida, are one of the original five members of the Iroquois League, being situated in what today is upper New York State. The traditional lands of the Oneida were the second most easterly of the Iroquois, situated between the easternmost Mohawk and the Onondaga. Their name means either, the "People of the Boulder" or "People of the Standing Stone". This refers to a significant rock formation found within the lands of the Oneida.

Even in the glory days of the Iroquois League, long before there was ever United States, the symbol of the Oneida people was a great tree. This continues right up to today. The tree is a white pine; this tree was selected by Deganawada, the Peacemaker because its needles stay green forever. The Peacemaker had a vision of the tribes coming together in peace under a "great tree". It is Deganawada and Hiawatha who are credited with uniting the Iroquois nations in the 16th century. The Peacemaker, according to legend, instructed the nations of the Iroquois to "bury their weapons of war under the sacred roots, and never unearth them again to use on each other".

We are becoming a world without nations. Our children do not want to stick solely with their own ethnic group, gender orientation or culture but to belong to many. Our children want to be responsible for the earth and All who inhabit it.

I hope that our “Clubs” disintegrate and our “Non-resident” status becomes invalid and that people will act not out of loyalty to their skin but out of integrity and conviction for doing what is right. Human beings are NOT animals. To be human does not mean to be naturally violent in word or deed but rather to carry within a compassion and an ability to choose beyond personal desire. Some believe poverty takes away this choice but I have seen otherwise.

My investment is with the children. They are the ones that will show us our folly. They already know this world better than we do and have chosen to reach out to their brothers and sisters regardless of our personal constraints. Please ask them. Don't shut them off from people who are different. We belong to you.

September Carnival: The Mis-Education of the Negro in the 21st Century

August 7, 2007 at 21:7 p

Posted by Asabagna

In an effort to have more focused discussions over at Afrospear, we are starting a monthly carnival with rotating topics. As I understand it, the way a carnival works is that those who wish to participate, post an essay on the topic on your blog page and forward the link to us at Afrospear@hotmail.com. We will post all the links and then have a discussion on the essays which have been submitted.

I am re-reading “The Mis-Education of the Negro” by Carter Woodson. The first edition was printed in 1933. I am stunned by how many of the issues he discussed then, appear to be relevant today…. in 2007.

It has inspired me to submit for the first topic of our monthly carnival, the issue of education with the Black/African community. Some questions to consider: Are we currently suffering from mis-education? What is your opinion and/or perspective on how our young are being educated? Are they being mis-educated and if so, what are the dynamics and results of this process of mis-education that you see? Does education have the power to change our lives and if so, do we, as a people, truly value and take advantage of that opportunity? What solutions and/or strategies do you propose to the education dilemma which is facing our community(ies)? It would be beneficial and enlightening to hear from different regions of the Diaspora and from the Motherland itself.

***********************************************************************************

Let Me Be Diverse
For the monthly carnival
by EJDoshi

I am going to jump on the diversity wagon because I think it is the ONLY way we can overcome the issues we all face in this country. And when I speak of diversity I am speaking of economic, ethnic, cultural, and gender diversity. How can we overcome the alienation and ignorance that allows us to continue to feed the illusion that we are all different unless we can come together to solve problems? I am in favor of opening our ears to the sounds of grief AND joy, chaos and true silence. But I say this with a caution. It is the hardest thing we will ever do. The reason for this is that we will make mistakes and be misunderstood and find conflict just as soon as we learn something profound. Until we look at the pain we cannot heal. Please lets not have African American Education for African Americans and by African Americans. This limits the healing and does not allow others to learn. Just as America as a country needs to learn how to be a leader and rise above its privilege and nationhood, African American Educators need to lead by rising above the pain of being marginalized and tap the absolute power of the soul of love of humanity and gratitude for the earth and bring to light strategies that reveal the potential of humanity.

The Children of today need to love their teachers and this happens when their teachers understand them. The teachers need to develop curriculum that is appropriate for the age of the child, NOT what is hip and cool in the media. Children need powerful archetypal stories that speak of the evolution of the human being not as represented by one ethnicity but by ethnicities throughout the unfolding of humanity. Children need to play and pretend and create when they are young. Teachers need to be artists, craftspeople and storytellers- HEALERS. For these children are being poisoned by the media and by the violence that materialism incites. Young children need to be surrounded by beauty and truth. They need to develop the skills that their hearts inform their hands so that when the age of reason unfolds in them they receive their lessons with a strong sense of compassion.

Young adults/adolescents need their teachers to be someone in the world and to be, above all, people of integrity. If their teachers are going home at night to watch television and do not have a rich life of their own outside the school it is a lost cause. The young people of today can see us very clearly and what we are up to no matter how hard we try to hide it. Let us speak to them of revolutions and of remarkable people. Let us give them opportunities to discover the wonders of science and mathematics first hand, (not by rote). Let them learn the speeches of very great and wicked people so that they can take measure of the world. Let us do all this so that the adolescents can be inspired to make something of themselves and be proud to do good work for the benefit of all humanity.

Part of the joy of living in this place, (remember I am counting my blessings) is the abundance of old cars. Why do I love them so?

Old cars (30+ years old) represent to me a time when cars were made to last and were easy to fix by any mechanically-minded person. Their colors were flat and classic like japanese origame. The era they speak of is one devoid of cynicism and filled with harmony. Pop groups sang about how we can "get together" and not how well we can blow someone off, except for that Paul Simon song, or blow someone away.

In the early 90s there was a car made by GM called the EV1 that actually could have made me love cars again but they killed that car because it wouldn't make them, (or their businessmen cronies) any $. If you want to see a cool trailer for the movie just click on Who killed the Electric Car?

DEDICATED TO MUM, MARCY AND JONATHAN:

How does one get through the summer blues and homesickness?

Get off your posterior and get on your two wheeler! At least that is what I did today. Instead of driving to the doctor's office I biked, almost solely on streets with bicycle priority. The Ohlone Greenway is urban AND rural ,as well as flat as a pancake.

Along the way I watched east bay life drift by. I saw what appeared to me to be homeless men sleeping on benches next to their grocery carts filled with recycling under the BART tracks which droned by every ten minutes.

I saw, (and smelled) beautiful flora.

Check out this mountain of Morning Glories, (my favorite flower)!

I rode through El Cerrito, Albany and Berkeley and crossing the occasional street I saw a myriad of old VWs, cars that remind me of when we were young. Mum and Larry had identical VW Fastbacks. I liked the handles in the front seat and the rumble of the engine.

There are some inviting benches and seats along the greenway and a huge mural depicting native life designed by artists.

Another way to forget about how profoundly lonely I feel is to cook. All this fresh produce has made a real food snob of me. And it helps to feel as though there is something to living out west. For lunch I chopped farmer's market summer squash, broccoli, onions, and carrots and sauteed them with black beans in a cilantro, tamari, nectarine, salsa sauce. I served it on a fresh corn taco with farm stand tomatoes,baby greens, sheep feta and uncooked corn kernals. I love the corn out here. It is best uncooked!

What would I be doing right now if I wasn't living out west? Well, I probably wouldn't be asking "What if?" which is never a good activity. But because I need to get it out- I would be out east with my family.

One sister is travelling to our east coast home with her children from the midwest and one MOM is also there now from the deep south taking a breather from the thick southern weather.

There are cook outs planned and daytrips to quaint coastal towns to buy "stuff". Certainly there will be arguing and differences of opinion. That is the way with big mouthed people from large families. Gosh I miss it.

C'MON BEBE!

This little bun, (I made yesterday) is coming with us to Ethiopia to meet the new one, whenever that may be, and pick up the scents of Ethiopia. We are looking forward to finishing up this homestudy update and being shipped off to the AFRICAN continent to bring home our future love.

I just had another TB test and doctor's approval. Mr. D will go next week but cannot have a TB test, (he always comes up positive) but will have to have a chest x-ray.

My friend from high school just received her referral for her little baby from China, Vivian. She will travel in 2 months.

TWO WHEELS RULE THE ROAD

Berkeley town has redesigned several of their streets to be "bicycle priority" streets. To see a short film showing this wonderful benefit to us bikers,

Click on Bicycle Boulevard.

Today we rode our bikes along the Ohlone Greenway, (bikes and peds only) underneath the BART to Berkeley and along the bicycle boulevards Virginia and Milvia. We went to Missing Link Bicycle on Shattuck ave. to have our bike tires switched because when the movers reassembled our bikes they mistakenly switched our tires.We went to a movie and ate dinner at remarkable vegan restaurant on Shattuck called Cafe Gratitude. This is what the Chicago Diner wants to be. I had the Sushi Bowl which is rice and an assortment fresh organic veggies, nori and Kim Chee. I barely let Mr. D have a bite.

ON GURU PURNIMA DAY

Someone gave Sri Sri a pink fuzzy hat and shades and he did the usual, pose like a young school girl with a flamboyant fay hand to the face. Unfortunately, I have a hard time "capturing" a photo of guruji in focus.

MY CURRENT PRACTICE is derived from the tools I have learned from Art of Living courses
I have attended over the last two years. Here they are:

Padma Sadna is a succession of yoga poses designed to allign area around spine and clear chakras.

Nari Shodana is alternate nostril breathing. I lost count of the times Sri Sri used the word nostril. (When I was young this word made me giggle. I think I have always been squeamish of other people's nostrils.)

Pranayama (breathing) in vedrasen position.

Bastrikas (more physically active breathing excersises )


Sudarshin Creeya is the landmark of the art of living part one course and the foundation of art of living meditation practice.


This past week was Guru Purnima. Celebration of the Master (Knowledge). Mr. D and I traveled to Pomona to celebrate with the Guru Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, who is the founder of Art of Living. It was held at California Polytechnical College. Pomona is east of L.A. and quite warm this time of year.



There were over 2000 people registered for courses during the week and over 3000 came for the Guru Purnima Puja and Satsang (ceremony and singing). The gym was just big enough for all of us.
During this week we attended our second Advanced Course and reviewed some mudras (hand positions) and a breathing lock (technique in holding the prana, breath, in the body for an extended period of time).



We also remained silent for three of the five days during the course. This was an amazing experience that allowed me to see how unimportant most of what I say is. And how high my tolerance level is. I have been selling myself and others short. When you can't complain whining becomes unnecessary.



Sri Sri (shown here with his incredibly contageous smile) was interviewed during the week by CNN:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-Sstlp1u7Y



When we arrived at LAX airport for our return trip home we were in for a shock. Why was everyone so stressed out and unfriendly? Some of the airport staff were downright hostile.

We thought to ourselves, "The world really needs Art of Living everywhere."

Sounds like I am brainwashed doesn't it? But the organization isn't really about the brain at all. One of the teachers, Rakshri, said, "Art of Living is the sanitation department. It cleans you out." Sri Sri said, "Become a no mind and you can communicate with all minds."
I agree.

THE DESPERATE LIFE OF MRS. DOSHI

"Honey, do you see the face?"

"Uh, no."

"You don't see it? The triangle nose?"

"Uhmmm. Oh yeah, if I turn it upside down I see it. That little gap in the pancake is the mouth right?"

Ants, ants, ants in my pants

Ants in my pants and they're makin' me dance.

Look!

Ants, ants, ants on the wall.

Ants on the wall form a line down the hall.

Ants, ants, ants up my sleave.

Ants in my wares.! Yes, its hard to believe.

Last week I took my bike on the train into San Francisco and rode around the city. It was a gorgeous and blustery day as are all the summer days out here it seems. Dry, breezy and hot. I climbed up the hills (on the easiest gear) toward the Golden Gate Park, an amazing and superior park to most. GGP has a flower conservertory, a botanical garden, a museum, a viewing tower, a tea garden, golf, tennis, beach, windmill and a panhandle (scenic park-like bike and ped. route)heading back into the city's downtown. The park spans half the width of the city and ends at the Pacific Ocean. And although I was disoriented and disorientated, (yes, these two words have different meanings), when I disembarked from the BART Civic Center station, every San Franciscan I spoke to for directions to the park knew which way I needed to go. No, "Ya cawn't get thaya from heeya."

Married, friendless, childless, and dogless. Is there a lonelier life?

Here is to all the dogs I love and have loved:

Oh Rooty! You little!

And to think you were almost mine.

But Lil Rocker got smart and kept your sweet behind.

If you have ever moved away from a place you have called home for more than say 10 years, when you dream in your new home you dream of things long passed. It happened to me when I moved away from Chicago and it is happening now. And a question, “Will I always be leaving friends behind?”
After the passing of Amy, with whom I lost touch but admired deeply, I begin to think of all the people who were good friends to me who I don't know anymore. I decide to make a list of I miss yous. Here it is.

I MISS YOU:
Gene D.
Deb
Joan
and Mylen from the Diner

I MISS YOU:
Eric M.
Deanne
Chris
John S.
Tanara
Kate EL'I from Avanti and Northside days

I MISS YOU
Paul
Michael
Jessica and Breckon
Gina Irene
Juan and Judy
Dede and Maya
Dandara and BJ from Logan Square days

I MISS YOU:
Russel
Arthur
Katie and yes Terry
Michael C.
David K.
Chris W.
Bliss from Sheffield and Leona days

I MISS YOU:
John H.
Jason
Georgia
Spencer
Eileen
Heather M.
Brigit M.
Walt S.
Delia M.
Peter S.
Joe H.
Andy L.
I ALSO MISS YOU CHICAGO
AND DON'T WANT TO FORGET.

Cheat You Fair
by Sam, a sock vendor
On Maxwell Street

They cheat you fair.
It's a game.
You had a chance.
Elsewhere,
they cheat you unfair.
No chance:
Pograms,
Cossacks,
The Czar,
Jim Crow,
KKK,
Sharecropping,
The company store.
On Maxwell Street
You understood:
A pitch,
A shpiel,
A rap,
A line.
It was joyous.
Blues humming.
Face-to-face.
You knew
People cared.
It was bazaar.
Don't let it die.

I worked with Amy 20 years ago at a popular italian restaurant in Chicago. She was also a friend during those years before she married and I left the city.

She had a wonderful economy with words and in her life. She made everything she designed feminine but very practical and comfortable.

The last time I saw Amy was when her daughter was about 3 at Navy Pier. Both of them were wearing dresses Amy had designed and looked gorgeous. That was about 11 years ago.

A good musician friend of mine told me about Amy this morning and he himself only found out because he was looking for information about her clothing designs. Amy's husband Jack introduced this friend and I at a Halloween party we had in Roscoe village. I remember her husband calling me to tell me he had fallen in love with a friend of mine and when he told me it was Amy I was surprised and pleased at once.

Amy Rigg was a peach. xoxoxoxox on your journey

Please don't be offended good quilters but I am afraid I have in my possession the most beautiful quilt ever made. It would be a mistake for you to think you would one day make such a quilt but I am here to say it has already been done by Alewife McKey.

That baby has already developed a trait to share with Mr. D and that is tardiness. This superb quilt and I have been waiting for to embrace the young Doshi!

THAT GLEAM

She dreamed to one day be a mother and part of a family.
Like many people she dreamed only not realizing.
Dreaming of taking baby in the stroller
to a place where other babies were playing, some happy, some sad
and some angry.
If an angry baby hit her baby, she would not chide the other baby but console only.

She dreamed like other people dream of becoming a doctor or musician.
She dreamed like others who want to travel.
Somewhere in their hearts they must go.
She dreamed to be alive like one sick who longs to be well again.

To be alive.
Is a fair request.
To eat and taste.
To kiss and feel.
To laugh and not worry.
She dreamed of the gleam of recognition from a waking baby.
Pure joy.
“Mama!”

You know why cartoons are so effective? Because they are NOT high tech. This cartoon is NOT high tech. It probably isn't even a cartoon. It is a diagram that shows a basic communication flaw in the human "me" species. I felt qualified to draw this diagram because I carry traits of the human "me"species and wanted to share.

There is a much funnier non-tech diagram in a website for a book promotion I also wanted to share. It is for Miranda July's book NO ONE BELONGS HERE MORE THAN YOU, which I have not read. But I did see her movie, You Me and Everyone We Know and if the book is as clever as the website it is sure to be a winner.

http://noonebelongsheremorethanyou.com/

Last week end was a percussive one. On Friday we spontaneously drove to Ashkenaz http://ashkenaz.com/index.htm to hear a Beat Box performance called The Vowel Movement. The venue is real down home and made me feel like I was back in Chicago at a performance space on Grand avenue. The cover charge was reasonable and the performance was very full, that is they offered a lot of bang for buck. We left before the show ended as we are middle aged and have sensitive ears we would like to keep for a while.

On Sunday we drove to Oakland to the world renown Yoshi's http://www.yoshis.com/jazzclub to see Poncho Sanchez, the latin percussionist. I loved the show. Really. It was too short was all. I wanted to dig the band and goove all night with that Cuban sound!

However, Yoshi's has a strange way of making its devotees work for their seats. Mr. D's colleague, a Yoshi fan, came to our house with his family at 4pm and promptly left with Mr. D to "reserve seats". Tickets had already been purchased days before. The doors at the club open at 5 so they waited in line for an hour to rush into the club and reserve seven seats at one of the front tables. They returned to our house to eat and then we all made for the club. Some people actually eat at Yoshi's restaurant which from what I am told has improved but is a little pricey. If you don't get in line early to save your seats you may not find enough seats together for your party and you definitely won't be up front or in one of the treasured booths. The club is intimate though and we couldn't have had a better time. Well, I couldn't have, but I didn't wait in line for an hour.

"PONCHO SANCHEZ celebrates his 20th year as a bandleader with his 20th release, Soul Of The Conga (CCD-4894). The veteran conguero's 18th recording for the Concord Picante label features the very popular performer in several different settings and the result is a fast-moving but logical set of 14 highly enjoyable and rhythmically infectious numbers.

Poncho Sanchez has long qualified as one of the hardest-working men in Latin jazz. Born in Laredo, Texas as the youngest of 11 children, he grew up in Norwalk, California (where he still lives) and remembers hearing Afro-Cuban music while growing up. "As a kid in third or fourth grade, I would hear my sisters dancing while listening to Machito, Tito Puente, Cal Tjader and various bands from Cuba while my brothers listened to doo-wop music and early rhythm and blues." While in sixth grade, Sanchez bought a fifty- cent guitar in hopes of joining an r&b band that rehearsed across the street from his home. Although he practiced quite a bit, when he showed up for an audition, he knew immediately that he did not stand a chance. "But it turned out that they needed a singer and, although I had never sung, I gave it a try and became the lead vocalist in that band for five years. Then when I was in high school, the first chance I had to get behind a set of conga drums, I hit them and it felt quite natural." Soon Sanchez had saved up money from his singing jobs and was practicing congas as much as possible in his garage, playing to Machito, Tito Puente and Cal Tjader records.

Sanchez's big break occurred in 1975 when, after a period of struggle, he had an opportunity to play with his idol, vibraphonist Cal Tjader. "I found out later that Cal's conga player was planning on leaving soon and he was letting a lot of people sit in with him. I played one number with Cal, he asked if I could play the rest of the set with him and a week later he asked if I could join him for a week, starting New Year's Eve at the Coconut Grove opposite Carmen McRae!" Sanchez would be a major part of Tjader's band for the next seven years, an association that lasted until the vibraphonist's death." http://www.drummerworld.com/drummers/Poncho_Sanchez.html

The El Cerrito Theater! An authentic old theater not some mock up from the golden days of prohibition!And it may become an historic, (I can't stand writing “an” instead of “a”, and still don't understand the rule! Silent h my hand!!) landmark in El Cerrito. Any way it is a nice theater that has lounge style seating like in India and you can order food or beverages to be delivered pendant le film. Check it out! And we don't know how they will stay in business as there were only 9 people sitting with us watching the most excellent THE NAMESAKE on a sunny Sunday afternoon. On Tuesdays they have what is called the “baby brigade”. You are invited to the theater with your under one year old child to watch a movie. If your child cries, join the party. I am not sure how much fun it is but maybe someday soon I will find out.

It wasn't so bad I guess, although we left after the 6th inning. And didn't even check the score when we got home. I guess baseball isn't for everyone. But our seats were fabulous- Lower Box 19th row. The food, (garlic fries) and drink, (margarita) really hit the spot. And the Giants' stadium, which has changed its name several times along with the change of sponsor, is topnotch. I think the real reason we left was because it was cold (52 degrees) and we each only had on a light layer of clothing on top. San Francisco is 10 degrees colder than Richmond. It was difficult focusing on the game because of all the things to distract you, (the huge screens, commercials, guy yelling, “PEANUTS” which sounded like something else, giant baseball mitt and giant coke bottle which was interactive with the game). Barry Bonds got cheered many times which was embarrassing. Also the booing for the other team, The Padres, was in poor taste. But as I said baseball isn't for everyone. Nor is professional sports. I suppose pro sports today is not really about grace, honor, and skill. But everyone knows that and still they go along. I guess they are waiting for those rare moments when someone does something magical. Catch an impossible fly ball or hit a soaring home run. I think what is really missing is the team spirit. And that includes everywhere even in the fine and performing arts.

Speaking of ants. We sure have some. I even had some in my pants. It is very disconcerting. And although they aren't the biting kind I don't like having them crawl up my arm while I am cooking or typing on the computer. What do they want? Our garden is filled with them and from what I read it is a good thing to have ants in your garden because they eat fungus and do housekeeping. But with the amount of cat fur and dust I sweep up in the house it seems they aren't doing their job. Just making me jumpy and itchy.

SUMMER FRUIT

Yesterday I spent several hours refiling paperwork for our adoption. Most of the paperwork that was filed in Massachusetts has to be refiled because our residency has changed. And while this certainly seems to be an example of the fallibility of the system, (we have to pay twice too), we are calm reasonable people. Yes. And we will do as advised.

Our backyard is filled with fruit trees. We have pears, plums, figs and our neighbor's nectarine tree has branches in our yard as well. This ripening summer fruit sometimes reminds me of the way pregnancy transforms a woman's body. I imagine the aches and pains of longing and letting go that I would miss if the adoption process was efficient, as I imagine someday it will be. Those poor women will only have to wait a few days and BAM! They will be mothers, without all the crazy "I will never be a mom" fears haunting them or the rejected applications due to beaurocratic errors of "Gilliamesque" proportions (see movie "BRAZIL").

That will be some sad day huh?

My sisters are now fulfilling their duties as official handholders during this strange jobless, childless time for me. I was on the phone for one hour with my younger sister and three hours with my older sister yesterday. To observe me sitting in the sun or leisurely preparing food and chatting with my sisters while drinking a glass of wine one would be given the impression of priviledge and ease. But I keep thinking, "What happens when you find yourself in heaven but you are alone?"

The movie THE NAMESAKE has finally arrived in our neighborhood cinema. Mr. D and I will have the opportunity to see it on the big screen.

A stunning Japanese Maple Bonsai arrived yesterday from Shambhala, our first plant in the NEW WORLD.

I have registered my car and applied for a CA driver's license. I am now officially a California resident. I even registered to vote, tho' my vote is no more useful now as before when I was a Massachusetts voter.

My car passed the smog test (which is required to register your car and costs about $60) but it is easy to pass this test in CA because if you have a 4wd vehicle your car isn't able to take the entire test, (the test is designed for cars). Putting the plates on, or rather taking my Mass. plates off was a different story. I imagine our elderly neighbor Xerxes, who just had knee replacement surgery and is recovering at home, was thinking, "How many tools does this girl need to take off those pesky plates?" I ultimately needed to use mineral oil for wood to loosen the last screw as I could not find the wd40.

The written license test is hard! It is a 36 question test with multiple choice questions like:

A peace officer is signalling you to drive to the edgeof the roadway. You decide to ignore the officer's warning and flee the scene. You are guilty of a misdemeanor and can be punished by being:

a) Fined up to $1000
b) Jailed in the county jail for not more than 1 year
c) Given a warning and a citation

I got it (and 6 others) wrong! And to pass you have to make 6 or fewer errors. The testing dude, marked only 6 wrong. He cut me some slack. Maybe it was dumb blond sympathy. Maybe dumb new englander sympathy. Maybe my gujurati last name. Who knows. He may have miscounted. Why do I need to know? Control issues. CONTROL!

Now we must return our Massachusetts plates. Or be charged taxes and find out a few years down the road when the state catches up to us, what we owe.

Now I don't want to end this on a sour note as this whole transition from new england to "Otra Costa" has been strange and unnerving so I will tell you it is sunny here and 65 degrees. All is well.

Now I know what REAL garbage is.This month in California the town sanitation department teaches me the meaning of recycling.Everything. No backsliding. Because if you do there won't be room in your garbage container for real garbage and you will have to hold onto it for another week. Recycling items can wait a week if necessary but because these garbage containers are smaller than those out east AND because you only get one (unless you want to pay for a larger one), you have got to be sure it is GARBAGE. Spouses from third world countries may take longer to learn the significance of this and if so, take responsibility! They may be off working for the MAN while you put the box cutter to work. My friend from New York and I marvelled at the garbage and recycling trucks as their automated arms reached down to grab the containers and empty them into the correct receptacle. No cussing garbage collectors throwing your cans and lids down the street.This is California. dude.

Since I have been doing nothing but unpacking these last few days the daily walk has felt more urgent. Our walks to Point Isabel have been a nice way of settling in and beginning to identify with our 'hood . It is just a mile away.

Tomorrow I am going to try to get a california license and register my car,

and unpack.

We don't have a dog. But if we did we would go to Point Isabel everyday. AS it is we go there alot to walk. And as for me? I get my dog fix.

Yesterday we saw two women with about 8 shepherds (four of them black shepherds). The dogs were sitting quietly while other dogs frolicked about them. When the trainer gave the cue they all got up quickly and wrestled a bit and then as the trainer began to walk away they all followed her. This place is dog heaven. And they have a cafe and a place for dog baths. Some of the dogs just dive into the bay and go for a swim.

http://areas.wildernet.com/pages/area.cfm?areaID=CAEBPI&CU_ID=157

The movers came! And brought our stuff! All of it at the same time!Joy!
Now where is that coffee machine?

WE have ants. And one of our cats has already escaped, (unharmed luckily). The birds aren't drinking. OUr landlord is mad at me for asking too many questions. The honeymoon is over between Hemanshu and his partners at work. I haven't been doing my practice regularly and my root chakra is sending nerve pain to my nethers.

The weather is perfect and I have been told by my neighbor Alex that the weather here is 10 degrees warmer than San Francisco and 10 degrees cooler than the weather on the other side of the hills, that is to say again perfect.

As soon as I find the cable that sends pictures from my camera to my laptop there will be pictures.

The movers are supposed to arrive today but we never received a call yesterday confirming the time of arrival. Living in an empty house has its up sides, (you can find all those dustballs and cat hair tufts). The cats are bored stiff as they have nowhere to sit and watch the world outside. So they just eat and paw the back door to get outside.

A note to my sister and anyone else interested:

Hello and bleary eyed from California.We woke up this morning at 315 to make the 625 and 804 flights to San Francisco with cats and birds, drug free. Tried to nap on the way but no luck.
We still have no internet connection so we are working from Center Perks, a coffee shop with wireless internet (and alot of knick knacks and live music to boot).

http://www.eastbayexpress.com/bestof/award.php?award=424018&year=

Outside a car is blasting their bass so loud it is reverberating throughout the building.
Welcome to El Cerrito!

Traveling with the cats and birds was uneventful and the United staff was friendly and playful. After all the business booking this flight with pets we were quite amazed and delighted. Our dear friend from Brooklyn was also a lifesaver traveling out with us and caring for the cat, Missy, in her charge. Sebastian was very mouthy while both cats remained silent, paralyzed.
Once inside our new place they began to explore and relax.
All is well in our empty sunny house and the latest news is we may receive our stuff on time.

It isn't over yet because we are still here in Boston but we survived the packing and the moving truck just left our house with all of our stuff.

What makes moving so draining and anxiety producing? The endless ways it can go wrong.

For example, we are "sharing" a moving truck with another client of our movers for a reduced fee but unfortunately the mover miscalculated how much of our stuff will fit in "our portion" of the truck. Incidentally, the truck is a 24 footer, (not big). So, they won't be able to deliver all of our stuff at once. The first batch of stuff will arrive next Thursday or Friday. The second batch won't arrive until sometime in July!

I am still wondering how they thought a three bedroom apartment would fit in 2/3 of a 24 foot truck.

Bless Zeus!

It was the weather that made it possible. On Friday May 18 when the Olympics was scheduled to happen I flew out to Cincinnati where my brother was getting married the next day. It was a homemade affair and came off miraculously, wonderful weather, food, accomodations and company. But I guess the weather in New England wasn't so lovely and the Olympics were rescheduled for the following Tuesday. The children of the Fifth Grade class at The Waldorf School, (my dears in 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Grade) probably don't know what a blessing it was for me to be able to come to their pentatholon. But I was able to take photos and preserve my memories of these gorgeous creatures I was once priviledged to teach.

Hello folks!

I have spent the last few hours trying to create an invitation I can email to friends and family to our going away party. Well, here it is!

Come celebrate with us our move and great changes:

Elephant Walk www.elephantwalk.com

Cambridge

2067 Massachusetts Ave.

Thursday May 31 at 6pm

We will have drinks and cocktails and lots of excellent conversation. Come hear about Art of Living and Care for Children and help us meet our intention to sponsor 10 children.

Why isn't anyone saying it? Doesn't this ring a bell folks?
Am I the only one who thinks that the boy named Cho who killed 32 in Virginia was a mirror? Showing us ourselves? Showing the world the agony of being cut off from society because he didn't buy in or was in need? Did anyone reach out to him? He was alone. And now everyone is ignoring the lesson that the "madman" has given us. We want to own things. We are an "ownership" society and yet, we do not belong to each other any more. We are alone in our cars, with our i-pods or our cell phones or our macs or our media players or our blackberries. alone. This is the most agonizing pain of all. To be completely alone and to be forced to live side by side with those who do not see you, do not know you and now who see you as beneath compassion, an animal.

I did not know any of the victims. They looked like happy people and I am sure their loved ones will miss them to the end of their days. But it is easy to like happy successful , good-natured people. It is hard to love people who are "cold" or unpopular or disagreable. But regardless, it was the young Cho who was suffering to the end of his life and not the happy young people, who lived good productive lives to the end, (or so it seems).

It seems that compassion is a quality that young people of privilege do not always possess. Perhaps that was the one thing that these young people had "billions" of chances to show to young Cho. Perhaps some people will step forward and tell another story so that we can begin to heal this wound. Making Virginia Tech "safer" does not mean creating another gated community. The US is becoming one big gated community and the more walls we build the more violently those on the outside will tear them down. If we can make people feel that they belong and they are safe inside their hearts as well as outside we may come to a more peaceful place in our schools and places where people work and learn together.

ANOTHER BLACK MONDAY
This stormy morning the alarm woke us up at 4 am so that I could drive Mr. D to the airport to make a 6 am flight. Unfortunately, after checking the status of his flight he was informed that it was cancelled so I fell back asleep until 7 am. He would take the train with me into the city and catch another flight into North Carolina at 10 am.

Once I was at work Mr D. began to call me with bad news of a long delay. AFter four hours of waiting at the airport and no sign of the flight actually taking off I told my colleagues.

"Poor Hemanshu has been stuck at the airport for hours!"

One of my Shambhala art production comrades replied, "At least he isn't at Virginia Tech."

It was then I learned of the killings at the hands of a lone gunman who was finished being invisible.

Later in the afternoon, after bonding with post Boston Marathon T riders I sat with my husband, who had given up trying to leave Boston, at a restaurant above the Alewife stop. Sitting on a large bench waiting for take out were 4 nine year old girls and someone's mom staring up at the tv which was broadcasting the relentless coverage of the shootings. How does one explain?

Yes, darling girls, in other "less priviledged" countries there is famine, civil strife, AIDS, and a crippling war. There are girls your age forced into prostitution and babies being sold or stolen for organs. Here in the United States we don't have any of this we have something else.

It is a sickness of the mind that makes us believe we must have what we want or else. It is a sickness that makes us grow more and more detached from others and depressed. This loneliness stems from our inability to feel for others or to make a sacrifice for the love of another.

Our country is afflicted with the most deadly disease of all, ENTITLEMENT.

There he was, on page 71 of The New Yorker, staring wet-eyed at me. Here was my hero, my Krishna, Puck, back in the limelight again. Accompanying this full page picture was a review of a show by Sasha Frere-Jones. This show took place in Las Vegas.

Las Vegas? Hell on earth? The place where prostitution is legal and the motto is "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."?

Actually, I would go to hell (if I had a round trip ticket) to see Prince. His songs still splash out into my mind and it is no wonder that artists still cover him.

Someone should have been on it lately to sing the seasonally appropriate, especially for this year,

"Sometimes it snows in April.
Sometimes it feels so bad.
Sometimes I wish that life was never ending.
But all good things they say, never last."

Except perhaps love sometimes
and PRINCE :)

This is regrettable. I have not posted since January and left February 07 in the dust as if it didn't exist. Here my friends are confiding the most intimate details on their blogs regularly and I am acting as if NOTHING, not even a strangely shaped bowel movement, has occurred in my life.

Well. It isn't true.

Husband has moved to Sauselito, (town above San Francisco) and we have been engaged in a rather challenging long distance marriage with plans to reunite, i.e. live together again, in SF area permanently.

Today I write this blog from lovely Sauselito, a town not unlike the one I in which I lived during high school, Chatham, Massachusetts. I am sitting in the "floating home" my husband is renting, overlooking other house barges as I like to call them. Many people refer to these abodes as house boats but they are NOT boats. They have cement foundations and do not have engines and are not mobile. At least not the ones around here.

This particular community is quiet and restful which has been a relief on this trip mainly because I have been sick since I arrived with a particularly strong respiratory infection and flu. We have cancelled all kinds of plans and poor husband's fantasies of taking bikes up to the Marin Headlands or more realistically, over the Golden Gate Bridge have been dashed unromantically onto the mudflats these houses sit on during low tide.

One of the goals of this trip has been to find an appropriate neighborhood in which to live. There are no appropriate neighborhoods (within our budget ) in which to live so we will be relying on a miracle to help us to secure housing in May/June. Perhaps we will squat in an abandonned floating shanty. Or slum it in the corporate-stepford-style housing that is plentiful on the penninsula. I will be personally petitioning the Goddess Laxshmi and Lord Ganesh to assist us in this plight as I see them as more reasonable than the housing market in California.

Staying here on the house barge really isn't an option. Soon our little glorious child will come and the ten minute walking commute from the parking lot to the "boat", including the impossibly steep and precariously railed-ramp will be out of the question. This is, alas , not a child friendly community but one consisting mostly of peace-loving older artists who may occasionally entertain grandchildren but spend most of their time painting/writing, gardening or on floating home improvement

naked.

Has anyone seen Annie Sprinkle?

It really is lovely. But only a temporary sanctuary. sigh.

I just wanted to share with you the amazing DSN course I took recently in Chicago. DSN, which stands for Divya Samaj Nirman means creating divine society. It is also known as Don't Say No. This is yet another incredible course brought by Art of Living.

http://www.artofliving.org

Art of living was founded by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar 25 years ago and celebrated its 25th anniversary last February in Bangalore, India. If you check out the website above please check the silver jubilee.


Art of Living carries several service projects throughout the world ( Care for children, 5H, Prison Smart, Youth empowerment, and Rural Development to name a few) and has a strong presence in over 140 countries.

Hemanshu and I want to hold a party to share our experiences with our friends nearby, but we would like everyone, near and far, to know that something good is happening in our world.

We have committed ourselves to getting some sponsors for the "Care for children" and it would be great if other friends looked into the part one course.

http://www.artofliving.org/seva/care4forchildren.htm
http://www.artofliving.org/download/videolinks.htm

What is heartening to us is to know is no matter where we are there are people who want peace (within themselves and in the world) and are willing to do something about it.This makes us feel at home in the world despite what the media tells us.

Two new additions before the new year (felted slippers and leather moccasin-boots).

Things to look forward to in the NEW YEAR:

A new job in San Francisco for the manshu that may mean a move (EXCITEMENT, CHANGE AND CATHARSIS).

DSN in Chicago and visit with longtime friend.

Shambhala, my good looking job.

More fun projects: SHOES, CLOTHING AND BREAD so stay tuned.

All told, Christmas was lovely, except for the missing nephew and the preoccupied sister.

The children, as always, made it feel like CHRISTMAS.

There was a little trouble with the irridescent angel who was listing a bit from the top of the tree.

And for the first time in Hatch history I am sad to say the tv was on to check the football score. Why does this fill me with grief.

Also historic was the green surroundings of our Maine family dwellings. The weather, again, proved unseasonably warm.

This was the first Thanksgiving we ate outside for the feast!

The weather in Ohio, where my brother and his fiance live, was unseasonably warm. We decided to eat out and enjoy the sunshine.

There was alot for which to be thankful. The other things will have to sort themselves out in time and space.

FRESH POND!

The Manshu and I walk here almost every day with other people and their dogs, babies and tractors. Today I got a ride on a Caterpillar from a friendly Works employee. Its that kind of day.

HOME OH HOME SWEET

Boston has been on my mind. Actually, New England. Because the possibility of having to leave makes me notice what I have before its gone. How can people think lightly of where they live?

I know how it feels to live "away". I lived in Chicago for ten years. It was a big party, but not home.

I don't mind the pushiness at rush hour. I've been to India and NYC. Bostonians are daarlings.

ALL four seasons! The bright leaves against crisp blue skies in Fall. The solemn drop of snowflakes on bare branches in the grey half light. The hope of spring and the sudden surprising gust of salt air from thawed oceanside. The freedom from the opression of clothes in summer. Halter tops and sandals at outdoor cafes after long hikes. The Ocean! The Mountains! The History!

My family has lived here since the 17th century . Two famous houses in New England (one in Gloucester on my mother's side and one in Marshfield on my dad's) were built by my ancestors. Sarah Messer, the author of The Red House, grew up in the one built by and inhabited by my father's family- The Hatch Family in Marshfield, Massachusetts. She writes about growing up in this house. It is a wonderful book full of historic details and Hatch/ Messer Lore. The other beautiful house below belongs to Lucette White and her husband who have also honored my family history by keeping and maintaining the house built by my great grandfather, Judge Edgar J. Sherman, the house on Bass Rocks in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Lucette, incidentally, is a magnificent and world reknown painter.

The house I grew up in is in Norwell, Massachusetts on River street just across the river from the Red House. This house was built later, in 1900, but was a wonderful house in which to grow up with a large swath of woods in the back and Stetson Shrine road to the left, where we roamed freely. My younger siblings Sarah, Rebecca, Joshua and Joel were 8,6,4 and 3 when we left the house in Norwell. I was 13. Jonathan was 14. And Marcy left to live with our biological mother in Chatham Massachusetts when she was 16, 2 years before.

Many of my siblings now reside in Maine. The last frontier of New England. But I am the only one back in Massachusetts. I feel like this is where I belong. I hope to stay.