One Year Later

It was a year ago today that my mother left this world. I feel her presence inside of me--what she might say or do, how much she enjoyed her life on Earth, how much she loved it when family or friends came to visit us.

Family will be arriving tomorrow for a spring break visit; after that old friends will come from afar for  a visit in April, and after that, another friend. Life keeps delivering its pleasures and I am grateful for every joy, large or small.

I want to thank all of you who left your messages of condolence on my blog, or on Facebook, or by mail or phone a year ago. It meant a lot. We are all on this winding road together, and yet it can be easy to forget that. Thank you for reminding me.

The Teak Project, Part 2

The table in the process of being sanded.

The finished project in the weird glow of the patio heater, six days after beginning. Wine for the crew.

And by day.  The remaining chairs have not been set out yet, but family vacation week is approaching! I'm also staining a "teak look" coffee table that needs a little more time.

After the rainy winter, time on the patio seems more beautiful than ever.

Looking toward the ocean

Pink water

The moon at sunset

The Teak Project

The first furniture I bought for my townhouse post-divorce was a barbecue and a teak patio set. I lived in the San Gabriel Valley then and with a little teak oil now and then, things went well.

The marine environment destroys everything here in Margaritaville. Hardware, doorbells, pruning shears left out for a mere couple of days. The previous owners here at my new place left a high end stainless steel barbecue on my patio that looked like this.

After 5 years year, and only a couple of previous treatments, the furniture looked like it needed to be sanded as well as oiled due to my neglect and a winter that gave us a lot of rain, so I called a professional teak restoration company. Hahahahaha. After a couple days of negotiations, I got the price down to 800 and something dollars. Hahahahaha.

With the help of a friend, a brand new orbital sander, and about 40 bucks worth of sandpaper, this is how things are going:

We disassembled the chairs so we could do a really good job. Left to right: the weather beaten, the sanded clean, and the re-oiled 

A stack of freshly oiled pieces in the morning light.

The dramatic before and after.

All but one chair is reassembled. Despite my careful note taking, it turns out that not every chair was assembled with the exact same hardware...there will be a trip to the hardware store today, and some improvising.  Stay tuned for pictures of the table.

You'll Want to Have What I Had

I had two glasses of the above concoction with some ceviche and chips last night.

Dream:

Dan Paik came back from the dead, wearing a long red skirt over tight pants, a bolero, a kimono, and two hats perched at jaunty angles. He came bearing gifts for every birthday and holiday that he'd missed. In the dream, I didn't quite realize that he'd been dead, I thought he'd stayed away because  he'd broken up with me. What's all this? I asked of the dozens of colorful shoes, the chocolates shaped like animals, the watercolor paints. "It's all for you, baby," he said. The gift that beat all gifts was an immense curly-haired dog wearing an embroidered jacket that said flowers and candy in romantic curlicued script. "Is that his name?" I asked. Dan laughed and shrugged. All this while I'm thinking, uh-oh, what about Amado? 

Dan and I were sitting on the bed in my apartment and I could hear Amado whistling as he came up the stairs. I stood up to hug Amado, then turned toward Dan. "Guys, I've got some explaining to do," I said. They listened and there was some back and forth about what it meant to be dead. "It's time to go downstairs," Dan said. The three of us descended into the street and half of L.A. was standing there, necks craned upward. It was the night of the Bobbing Man, or maybe it was Ballooning Men. The sky was full of  primary colored life-size balloon men, some of them anatomically correct. When one of the endowed balloon men bobbed up and down in the evening breeze, a roar would rise from the crowd. 

Dan, Amado and I walked around in amazement. The sunset had lit  the sky on fire and torches lined the street. It wasn't long before we ran into my friend Paula and her sisters who had traveled from Arizona to witness the spectacle. I tried to explain about Dan and got confused, but Paula seemed to take it all in stride. We sat on a bench and talked, and my younger daughter who was still a young teenager came and lay across our laps and fell asleep. I thought about telling Paula that I might be leaving the Earth soon, that I felt like I was as tenuously tied to this life as one of the balloon men, but I didn't want to risk worrying my daughter, so I kept that thought to myself.

What the heck? But thanks for the visit, Dan Paik. It was lovely to see you. Coincidentally, it was my friend Paula, who appeared in the dream, that left the bottle of La Vida Bonita at my house.  What a pretty life, indeed.  But who is Amado?