Report from the Gin Mill and Other Destructions

It was martini day here in Pillville. I put 18 2-oz martinis in jam jars and tucked them away here:

You don't see them, do you? Good. I also lock the door to my closet and to my room whenever I'm not at home. Yes, I am pretty much a raving nut case. If you'd like to read about my mental decline and how martini rationing was instituted here in Margaritaville, go here.

Meanwhile, millions more dead velella vellela have washed up on our shores.

The old crop from a couple of weeks ago are now higher up on the sand, reduced to their sails, their shiny blue bodies decayed and gone. Today on NPR, I heard that 13 million California trees have already died in the drought. We should probably ration all kinds of things here on planet Earth--especially in California.

And today in the state of Pillville we had a summit meeting. The Minister of Finance met with the Director of Planning and we concluded that my mom's money will run out in a few months. Options for supplemental income include opening a martini bar where the martinis are served in jars and hidden in various locations around the house, procured by a scavenger hunt. Jar Jar's Martini Bar Adventure. (Is this a good place to throw in a Yoda quote? "The fear of loss is a path to the dark side.") Stay tuned. Maybe we can work in some kayaking. Maybe you get a free drink if you dress up like Yoda or JarJar Binks.

In other news, the Director of Recreation in Pillville has suggested that I dance every night. I'd enjoy that. I think I'll leave my mom in charge of Jar-Jar's.

A freshly washed up velella velella from last August.

 And a freshly washed up me (from the early post-divorce years.) I love this photo, taken by my niece in maybe 2008 or 2009.

Tuesday Beach Report

Early morning and the marina is an old mirror, too gray and still for even the birds. The sailors are sleeping. But later when I step onto the sand, the ocean is a silver-green cauldron, and the waves are building.

The Mystery of the Wine Thief, Some Wisdom from Ancient Rome, and the Rabbit in the Moon.

The Last Senate of Julius Caesar :: Raffaele Giannetti

The lovely M was in Margaritaville (her presence alone is enough to transform this place from Pillville to Margaritaville) this weekend. She arrived with plans to take me off to the theatre today, so from the moment I awoke, I began working toward our 11:30 departure time so that we could drive back to the L.A. area with plenty of time to make the matinee. One of my first tasks was to take last night's nearly full bottle of wine upstairs (I forgot to do this last night.) But the bottle of wine was gone. This discovery fell into place with the fact that I found my mom roaming around the kitchen and laundry room last night at 1:00 a.m. Aha, I thought, she's swiped the wine and hidden it somewhere in the laundry room. M looked for it. I looked for it. All the while, I wondered if I hadn't put it somewhere for safekeeping downstairs instead of juggling it up the steps with my glass of water, my phone, my book, my laptop. Maybe I tucked away somewhere. But where? All through this self-doubt though, my mom is my prime suspect. But off we go to the theatre.

The play we are going to see is Shakespeare's Julius Ceasar (probably the definitive play on power, politics, and war.) M, with her knowledge of the classics, plays podcasts about Julius Ceasar for us as I drive. We hear about Ceasar's return to Rome after his conquests in Gaul and over the Germanic tribes. So there Ceasar is, riding in his triumphal chariot with a slave standing behind him. It's the slave's job to remind Ceasar to look behind you because the future comes from behind. I insisted we hit the pause button right there. M told me about the Roman god Janus who has two faces, one looking forward, the other back, and we drove in silence for a bit before we went on to finish the podcasts.

M as Julius Ceasar at age 11
We happened to have dug out this photo album because of the visit from relatives last week.

 It was a fabulous production. Completely riveting, our brains swirling with past and present wars and political intrigues.

Then I drove back to attend my Sunday night dance class. I had a hard time focusing at first, but eventually my feet and my brain got together. The dance partner was entirely good humored. He's just happy to dance.

Afterwards when we walked out to the parking lot, the moon was a big yellow disk hanging low in the sky. He asked me if I knew about the rabbit in the moon. I did not. I'm 62 years old and I've never heard about the rabbit in the moon. I have, however, always felt that the future comes from behind. So, I tonight I saw the rabbit in the moon. And my dance partner gave me some beautiful homegrown lemons.

When I arrived back home, I was famished. And I wanted some wine. And there it was. On the dining room table just where we'd left it, untouched.

Friday Beach Report

 An ocean of emptiness.

No people, no dogs, no surfers, no boats.

As I finished my walk, a patch of blue sky appeared--and I ran into two friends.

It's Friday. It was a better than average week here in Pillville. My mom's sitting at the dining room table drinking a banana, strawberry, blueberry smoothie and reading the local paper. 

And me, I just played the caregiver card while trying to cancel my CitiPrestige credit card. Back in the day when this blog was known by its other name, I sometimes played the card that my daughters called the crazy divorced lady card. With this card in play, I actually managed to take a snow globe through airport security. I babbled something about not having traveled at Christmas for years and now that my husband had  suddenly and unexpectedly left me for someone 20 years younger, I was going to spend Christmas with my grandchildren and the snow globe was a gift, and....yep, waved right on through. In my defense, I was weeping and truly distraught. It wasn't an act or  a conscious manipulation.

The Citibank thing though--I knew that was the only way I was going to get off the damn phone. I mean the call took 14 minutes--and I wasn't on hold. "Well you see, Warren, those triple points for air travel, those double points for dining out, those extra points for entertainment--they don't mean a thing to me. I'm my mother's caregiver, and I don't go out." There was a pause. "Oh ma'am, I know what you mean," he said. And I believe he did. But he did have to run through his damn script anyway.  I thanked him profusely, and debated with him for a bit how I would use refunded remainder of the annual card fee. "Yes, ma'am, the card is cancelled but you do have a $20.19 credit balance." Whatever. He did his job. I wouldn't trade my job for his any day.