REDONDOWRITER'S SACRED ORDINARY

A Wi-Fi Visit From the Tumwater, WA Public Library

Now, if you want next to perfect weather, you need to be in Tumwater, WA today. I write to you from the Tumwater Timberland Library, which is about a mile from my sister's home. It's here I can get wi fi.

In fact, I've become so accustomed to dropping into libraries when I travel when where I'm staying doesn't have wi fi, but then libraries are my home away from home anywhere I go. 

This library has a very small Friends of the Library section, but I always find great books and magazines here and I did today.

I arrived yesterday and my sis and I joyfully reunited after a 10 month in between of seeing one another. You've heard me talk about Betty before--an 85-year-old larger-than-life kind of woman. She has cooked up a storm for us and last night we watched back-to-back movies of her choice, neither I had seen before. Nights in Rodanthe was a little too schmaltzy for me, but the scenery sure was beautiful. Flywheel is a Christian movie she really wanted to share and it had its humorous side along with the ageless message. The actors in Albany GA were priceless. Tonight it is Gran Torino, a film I'm looking forward to.

Betty took us to the Red Wing Casino today as she loves to play the slots and often arranges bus tours there of her senior complex members.Casinos are not my thing but I got some great photos of her at the slots and then we had a humongous and extremely reasonable buffet. She always delights in showing me the beautiful countryside although building still seems to be going on here.

Tomorrow we will visit some of her friends in the afternoon, after her weekly hair appointment. Needless to say, I'll spend that two hours back in the Tumwater Library. By the way, I'm reading Shanghai Girls and it is fabulous!

Redondowriter and Two of the Blue Man Group in Vegas

I am struggling mightily right now posting to Sacred Ordinary--after 5+ years of doing it almost daily. The honeymoon lasted quite a while, though, and I know that in real life, in marriage, when the glow wears off, that's when the opportunities for deepening love and commitment really begin. (I wasn't as successful in making this happen in my own marriage, but I guess 27 years isn't all bad, is it?)

Those of you who know me know that I am a push over for blue accessories in my home with a particular emphasis on cobalt blue. I have collected waaaay too much of it and I am beginning to divest myself of some of it on Freecycle--plus a whole lot of other stuff. 

I don't wear a lot of blue, but I wear a lot of blue jewelry, and I do love denim. But, when I saw these two Blue Men (from Madame Tussaud's) from the Blue Man Group, I had my nephew shoot a couple of photos in the Venetian. I have yet to see any real blue men in person. Have you? 

And here I am with my Godson and nephew Jim who always makes sure I get out a little bit when I go to Vegas to visit his mom, my sister. Jim was born a few months before my own first son, Joe. 

I can't remember if this photo was in the Encore or the Wynn, but the gardens in most of the strip hotels are always so beautiful. 

Maybe I just needed to take a breather from Sacred Ordinary and not beat myself up when I think I have absolutely nothing to share that is interesting. All of a sudden, with our few days of genuinely hot summer weather, I got my groove back. 

Remembering Bumblekiss, Portland, OR

When I was in Portland, OR last month visiting friends, one of several great (and off the beaten path) restaurants we went to was Bumblekiss. It was down a little side street and the building was painted orange and yellow. The flowerbeds in front were filled with all kinds of flowers and all kinds of bees. I am rarely charmed at this point in my life, but I was utterly captivated. It was like finding a rare jewel in the midst of an ordinary neighborhood. 

How’s this for a gorgeous flower with two bees? Anybody know what this is called? Click on this to enlarge it. I was amazed my old Olympus took such a good close-up photo. 

At Portland City Search, there is this review for Bumblekiss: 

The diminutive dining room is juicy orange and sunny yellow with contrasting dark-brown trim. Gal-pals, couples and families sip coffee and mango iced tea at tables topped with vases of whimsical felt flowers. Breakfast plates include scrambles and omelets, thick cinnamon-swirl French toast and eggs Benedict on a biscuit. The lunch menu, also available anytime, has soups, salads, burgers, sandwiches and dishes like curried chicken or tofu over jasmine rice.

 

The owner/chef and our waitress came out to talk as we were finishing brunch. He is a salt-of-the-earth-dedicated-to-organics man who loves his work. Our waitress, who would make an excellent home-town heroine in a Portland novel, said, when I asked her if she enjoyed her work, "I can't think of anyplace I'd rather work. The food is excellent, reasonably priced, and being part of Bumblekiss is pure pleasure." 

If you are ever in the area, this little side street gem is a must-go-to. In fact, I’d drive down from Seattle to go to this restaurant!

Bumblekiss

3517 NE 46th Ave

Portland, OR 97213

Phone: (503) 282-6313

Thanks, Vicki and Lynne, for introducing us to Bumblekiss, and a half dozen other great Portland restaurants. 

 

 

SPACESHIP CRASHES IN PORTLAND, OR

Yes, Lorna. Portland, Oregon--a fabulous city I have always loved. My aunt lived here until her death in 1992 so I spent a lot of time here in earlier years. Now that I've been back here again, I won't stay away so long. This sign was by an empty field with a chain link fence right by a fence near the Esplanade on the Willamette River. There was a small enclave of young men and their dogs "camping" there when we were there last night and then there was this sign. Then we looked around and there was a battered alien doll nearby and a bunch of smashed electronics. We assume a performance artist does his shtick here during the day. Donna W. commented not to buy anything I didn't need after reading about yesterday's estate sale. Donna, I've got bad news. All of us are garage and estate sale aficianados and we went to several today and I haven't laughed so much in a long time. Vicki is an assemblage artist, Lynne is a vintage clothes collector and artist, Orma is an artist, Rick goes along for the ride and old videos, and you know me. Mostly I bought artist and crafts supplies. I promise we will utilize all or put it on Freecycle.

This part of our stash of stuff which we laid out on a table and youu can only see partially. Everything I bought is packable, believe it or not. Later those that bought clothing modeled it and we had a photo shoot. I cannot remember having such a zany time in a very long time, but when the five of us get together, we try to outrage one another. 

 

This is Orma and I showing off a few of our purchases, but get a look at that red silk vintage dress--$1. I can hardly wait to use all my new art supplies, ranging from 10 cents to $3. One more day of fun in Portland and on Sunday at noon I take the Amtrak to Olympia to visit my sis. I can't remember the last time I've laughed so much.

Back in Washington State Again

I would never have dreamed I would visit Washington state a few times a year, but I have compelling reasons these days: family. It is also an incredibly beautiful place. This is my sister Betty, 84, and I in front of Hearthstone restaurant at Budd Inlet on Puget Sound. She lives in Tumwater. Yesterday the ladies lunched, visited the Capitol Historical Museum in Olympia, and dropped into the Olympia Farmers Market. My sis loves to watch DVDs, too, so we watched four the 2 1/2 days I was there: Margot at the Wedding (unusual), an old movie called Murphy's Romance, August Rush (loved it) and Jessie James. It will be one year next month that my brother-in-law died and Betty is doing mostly OK. She remains one of my role models for aging gracefully in spite of a lot of adversity.

This afternoon I made the 120 mile trip to Port Angeles and below you will see one of three reasons why.
This is my grandson Zachary who will be two on Monday; he loves to help prepare meals. The other two reasons for coming to the Olympic Peninsula are my son Joe and daughter-in-law Laura. It rained all the way on the drive north, by the way, but the drive adjacent to the Hood Canal is very beautiful. I have not seen Zachary since last August and it was hard not to cry when I saw the baby was no longer a baby but a little boy. He is gregarious, good-natured, and is talking a lot now. He will have a little brother come July, and I'll be back in August to see the new addition. I mentioned my DIL is on bed rest, but I was delighted to see she is basically feeling well.

As for grandma and Zachary, we read, played Play Doh, blocks and animals. Snow is still on the ground and it was raining earlier with more expected tomorrow. But--Zach and I will find a lot of things to do indoors, I'm sure. The downside? I miss my Cookie although a friend is living in while I am gone.

The Goddess of Travel: SoulCollage

Tomorrow I leave for Seattle where I will spend a few days with my sister Betty and then drive to Port Angeles on Friday to spend time with my son, daughter-in-law, and grandson Zach (who will be 2 this weekend). My daughter-in-law is on bed rest; their son is due in July. Keep Laura in your thoughts, please.

I'll have my laptop with me but when I am at my sister's home there is no wi fi, so my posts for the first few days will probably be canned-in-advance.

This is a SoulCollage card I call The Goddess of Travel, in the Council suit, I think. I am the one who travels tentatively these days, with a sense of apprehension and annoyance at the hassle of flying these days. I have to really psych myself up on a trip like this where I am essentially flying and driving by myself. I am the one who wishes Scotty could just beam me up. But, with the Goddess of Travel's help, I am the one who can feel the fear and do it anyway. Time ticks by, the world turns, and I keep on keeping on on the grid of life.

If I could ask a question of the Travel Goddess it would be: "Please help me to remember that even though I feel alone when traveling, I'm really not. How can I travel with a minimum of psychic angst?"

The Greek Changing of the Guard and Christmas

Just because (no, because there is more to it than I'm letting on to), I'm posting a photo I took in Athens two weeks ago of the changing of the guard in Constitution Square in front of the tomb of the unknowns. But, it wasn't just the "theater" of it all, the virility of the young soldiers, the tradition, but the universality of their dance as a metaphor for life and death that really grabbed me.

As this month counts down its days, heralding Christmas, I keep thinking about my trip to Turkey and Greece and snippets of memory keep popping up.  Those countries, especially Greece, were also preparing for Christmas. It seemed odd somehow to look out at my hotel window in Athens at the historic antiquities lit for night, and to justaposition it with the Christmas lights flashing off and on at the Italian restaurant across the street. I'll admit I've experienced a psychological let down since my return, like we all do when we experience something we have looked forward to for so long. But, more, I guess, I keep thinking about my life, your life, the life of us all woven together whether we admit it or not, whether we agree or not. It's such a cliche, but no man is an island and my travels have made me more aware of my tiny part in the world itself. When I get bogged down in my own details, I think of so many others who are living their own details.  What are some of your details today? 

The Tapestry of Life and Turkish Rugs

More than 25 years ago, when I was studying to be an Ira Progoff National Intensive Journal Consultant, one of the metaphors he liked to use was what he called the tapestry of life. Our experiences are the woof and warp. The front side of the tapestry shows a design or pattern, but if flipped over, the back side appears to be chaotic. Now my late friend Donna would say, “Fran, remember, life is in divine order.”The story of the Turkish rug factory and showroom reminded me of Ira’s metaphor, which I leave to you to interpret through your own point of view.

When I downloaded my photos from Turkey, all the photos I took in an upscale rug shop in a small town where our tour bus stopped flooded me with memories. The owner of the shop, which has been in business since 1898, admitted that most of the weaving is done my master weavers in Turkey’s villages, but several girls were in the shop apprenticing to the craft. They were also, I suspect, part of the “theater” of rug making and selling. Many of the rugs had taken up to four years to make.

We were taken on a tour where some of the apprentices were working in various stages of weaving and one woman was extracting silk from silk worm pods in a large hot vat medieval-looking vat.

Here is a close-up shot of one of the women working on a rug.

The rug shop owner and his salesmen, however, were far from medieval. They were thorough professionals—and very cultured as well. These were not the men you saw in the bazaars selling rugs; they were the Turkish equivalent of Rodeo Drive.

After the tour, an excellent lunch complete with wine and/or raki (similar to Greek ouzo) was served in the main rug showroom and the theatrical production began. The owner gave a historical overview of handmade rugs and then countless young men began what seemed like a ballet of rug showing artistry. Rug after rug was carried in or unfurled, large ones with three men unrolling them. They piled them on top of one another throughout the large showroom—and then the salesmen swooped in to begin the tastefully-done bargaining. I did not buy a rug, but almost everyone else on the trip did. I’ll just have to make do with my Home Depot specials I have in my home although I’ll admit one salesman (who said he lived part of the year in Marina del Rey) attempted to outrageously flatter my youthfulness, wisdom and beauty while I kept saying no and his prices went lower and lower.

This whole experience was, without a doubt, dazzling—better than most of the musical theater productions I’ve seen at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. Hmm. Does this story spank of "Nickel and Dimed?"

Athens: Using Mary Oliver's "Thirst" as Springboard

On the last two days of my recent pilgrimage trip to Greece and Turkey we stayed in Athens, Greece. I have had friends tell me that this great city is not one of their favorites, but I sure loved the little time I spent there including the palace, the museums and metro, the shopping and the street market. One of the men on our tour, however, did have his wallet stolen on the metro and there is almost as much graffiti as Los Angeles has.

The two thumbnail photos in this entry were taken from Lykavittos Hill; you can click to make them larger. The walk up several blocks of stairs to the funicular was personally brutal for me, but now I know, if I should ever return, that there are much easier ways to get there. The arthritis in my knees and feet is still in a major flare four days after my trip, but every ache and pain is worth what I experienced. The wind was blowing fiercely when we were at the top of the hill and later it rained. We had a wonderful lunch at the restaurant at the top of Lykavittos.

One view of the city of Athens shows the city itself with the mountains behind. You can see where they managed to stop the flames when the wildfires burned in Greece in August. The second photo shows The Acropolis and the Parthenon. The ruins are lit at night so I could peek out my hotel window and gaze at it, pinching myself that I actually got to see it in this lifetime. I have a feather story saved up for when I actually post about The Acropolis and the Parthenon in the days to come. Abraham Maslow used the term “peak experiences” in his work and for the eleven days of my trip, in spite of exhaustion and chronic pain, I had one peak experience after another. The feather story, however, was deeply meaningful to me.

This brings me to the epilogue of Mary Oliver’s 2006 book of poetry, “Thirst.” This is a must book for Mary Oliver fans. What you will read below is how I felt during my travels—and today as I look down into the Los Angeles basin. It has been 80 degrees in Southern California since my return.

Thirst Epilogue
by Mary Oliver

Another morning and I wake with thirst for the goodness I do not have. I walk out to the pond and all the way God has given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord, I was never quick scholar but sulked and hunched over my books past the hour and the bell; grant me, in your mercy, a little more time. Love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart. Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.

Memories of the Hagia Sophia: Istanbul, Turkey

All of my later adult life I have dreamed of one day seeing the Hagia Sophia, or Church of the Holy Wisdom in Istanbul, Turkey. Some of my longing had to do with the poetry of Thomas Merton, I’m sure, and a notion I have long had that the persona of Sophia is part of the Trinity. Yes, I know; I'm a heretic.

Known as Ayaysofya in Turkish, it is a former Byzantine church and former Ottoman mosque. It is now a museum and is universally acknowledged as one of the great buildings of the world. If you click the thumbnails of the photos, they will enlarge.

I wrote a little about the Hagia Sophia at Sacred Ordinary on Nov. 12 after our visit, but now I’m beginning to revisit the entire trip. On my work table at home, I have made a series of piles of memorabilia for each day of the trip and jottings from my journals. During the holidays I hope to make a scrapbook before I lose my edge of memory.

It was raining on the day we visited the Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, and the Topkapi Palace, but we didn’t let that deter us.

And neither did it deter any tourists or school children on field trips. The children were utterly fascinated by Betty, my travel companion, and I as we all stood in line waiting for our turn at what is known as the Weeping Column. We communicated mostly by handsigns, but it was the first time in my whole life that I felt venerated, believe it or not. The little boy with his hand out in this photo simply could not take his eyes off me. What beautiful, curious and funny kids they were.

Unfortunately nothing remains of the original Hagia Sophia, which was built on this site in the fourth century by Constantine the Great. Constantine was the first Christian emperor and the founder of the city of Constantinople, which he called "the New Rome." The Hagia Sophia was one of several great churches he built in important cities throughout his empire.

Following the destruction of Constantine's church, a second was built by his son Constantius and the emperor Theodosius the Great. This second church was burned down during the Nika riots of 532, though fragments of it have been excavated and can be seen today. Hagia Sophia was rebuilt in her present form between 532 and 537 under the personal supervision of Emperor Justinian I.

You can find detailed descriptions of the Hagia Sophia at Sacred Destinations or at Al Altan's Focus along with many spectacular photos. My own photos of this trip are not of the spectacular variety, but are meant to trigger my own memories of what was going on.

Most of the people in our group didn’t want to queue up at the Weeping Column which by serious pilgrimage folks is just a superstitious frivolity given the short period of time we were there and all the architecture and art to be seen and experienced. The Weeping Column has a worn copper facing pierced by a hole. Legend has it that the pillar is that of St. Gregory the Miracle Worker and that putting one's finger in the hole can lead to ailments being healed if the finger comes out moist.

My finger did not come out moist, but I actually did feel a jolt as I turned my thumb in the hole, but then I've often been told I have an active imagination. Be it the camera or sheer energy, the photo of my friend Betty’s thumb showed flashes of orange around it--and none of the other hands I photographed had these flashes.

At my age, it is unlikely that I will visit either Turkey or Greece again in this lifetime, but I do know that in a perfect world of time and resources, I would devote at least one full day to the Hagia Sophia if I could have. Fortunately, there are wonderful books, DVDs and websites that can fully enhance my hour spent in this holy place.