CommuniCATE

I started this blog as a stream-of-consciousness rambling forum…one that I may update as haphazardly as the thoughts from my head are spewed. Do I really think about what I write and whom it may affect? Heck no. Reckless abandon reigns on this page…until now. Now I feel I have a duty to spew thoughtful prose upon this blank screen because of you—my one faithful follower. I don’t know who you are, and I’d like to keep it that way. (Just in case reckless abandon slithers back into the blog.)

Last week, I was going to write a blog about coming out of retirement. I had actually secured a job that wasn’t far from my house and didn’t involve the daily feeding and care of a family member. But as quickly as I secured the position, it was gone.

So, I’m retired—again. Hummmm. What shall I do with all of my time? Well, if I were enterprising and the least bit smart, I’d get on it and blog regularly and secure click-ads and make some money on this puppy. I wonder if my faithful follower would click an ad, securing the fraction of a cent that I could wrap up and take to the bank. No, I don’t need to be so cynical, but I wouldn’t be me otherwise. Every great empire begins with a simple thought, a plan. I’ve got to outline my best plan in my head (a thought) and move forward in becoming the next blogger that you just can’t live without.

I am truly grateful to my one follower.

The cousin I spoke of on April 6 has died. I’m not sure of the details, but it has been an agonizing month. He was 42. He leaves an 18-month-old daughter, a young wife, devastated parents and siblings; countless heartbroken cousins, aunts, uncles, nephews and nieces. And then there was his extended family. He belonged to a Medieval Re-enactment Club where he cultivated deep, life-long friendships. But he also made a difference within the community in which he lived IN CHINA—even though he was only there a relatively short period. In fact, neighbors and friends within his village have set May 15 as a fund-raising date for his widow and daughter to help ease some of the immediate financial needs. That so ROCKS! His friends are scheduling the fundraiser in a bar and have four local bands set to play and are planning raffles throughout the event. They said this event was just among friends at first, but has snowballed into a community-wide shindig! AWESOME!

I am related to this cousin by marriage, so I think it is not so critical that I attend the upcoming memorial service. Actually, I will weasel out of it any way I can, because memorials remind me of all of those folks who have gone before me. I’m not up for being reminded of those folks at present. I mean, my paternal grandparents are kept alive through stories that I tell about them each and every day. My husband and I enjoy keeping the memories of those we cherished most alive through stories or even a few “trigger” words we have. For example, in my best old-lady voice, I’ll crackle, “I don’t ever remember having this such-and-such. Have I ever had this before? Oh, it’s so good.” It reminds me of my grandma, who wasn’t senile at 92, she was just silly. In fact, I can remember her saying that when I was a kid. Anyway, when I imitate Thelmalu, Dan and I well we bust up laughing. We roar with laughter. And we think of how much fun we had with her. And we don’t think of how sad we are that she isn’t here anymore. Memorial services do that to me. They remind me of just how sad I am that all of those who have gone before me have gone before me. So, I guess we don’t really die. We live on through the memories and anecdotes of others. Cripes. That means I should go out and start cultivating some nice memories of me for others to remember, instead of me just being a jaded, cynical, skeptical people-hating hermit. I’m off. Toodles!

Just got a call from one of my husband’s friends with news that his wife is in the hospital. What the hell??? It’s like every time I set goals for myself—such as maintaining happiness and sanity in a world gone mad—something or someone comes along to test my strength. Um, hello. I just started this conscious stream of thinking. Give me a break with the bad news. Will meditate tonight, lifting up earnest prayers for healing for her and for my husband’s cousin, Steven.

The following is a place where my friends and family can go to donate money for Steven Rachman. He’s my cousin who was diagnosed with a brain tumor within the last day. Thing is, he lives in CHINA and has no health insurance. Ideally, his mom and dad would like to get him home to have him treated here in the United States. It’s a sad situation. He has a Chinese wife and brand new daughter who are having trouble getting visa even to get passage to Hong Kong. Anything you can donate will be appreciated beyond words.

I will update later today with more information about this ongoing crisis.

Well, I thought I could get the widget posted, but I seem to be having trouble, so I will post it later today. You can go to my FB page and there is a link there to donate, if you so desire.

Thanks everyone for seeing my family through this unbelievable event.

I am originally from the San Fernando Valley which is also home to the Sherman Oaks Galleria. I spent a lot of my teenage years lurking at that mall—like any good, card-carrying SFV girl did—but as my world expanded and my career led me to nest in other suburban and rural locales, I realized that the world isn’t bounded by Ventura Boulevard to the south and Rinaldi Boulevard to the north. Opinions and residents aren’t confined to the goings-on between Valley Circle Drive and … hmmmm … I’m stumped!

What would be a good street to define the eastern boundary of the San Fernando Valley?

Yes, that is my very first question which I hope to receive feedback from YOU about. If you are familiar with the area or have an opinion about what the correct answer might be, please feel free to comment.

Where I was really going with this posting is that I do not live in the San Fernando Valley anymore, but I will always be a valley girl. More accurately “a valleys girl.”

I’ve heard the Pacific Ocean’s mighty roar when I lived a stone’s throw from the beach, and have nearly frozen my cheeks off when I lived in the Sierra Nevadas, but I always gravitate back to a valley of some sort.

Whether it be Golden or more recently Antelope, valleys just do it for me. I love seeing the snow-capped hills that surround me and I like the residual cooler temps from the snowpack, but I certainly don’t want to drive in snow again. Even thoughts of making a snowman have no appeal to me anymore.

And as for the ocean, well, let’s just say I have a healthy respect for it. I like to look at it from a distance, but I have no interest in swimming or drowning in it. Let’s not even talk about the downside of salt air and how it corrodes anything and everything sacred to a home or vehicle owner.

Yeppers, the valleys are where I find my heaven.