Around and Around and Around Amerika

It's hard to come home. So much changes every time I leave my native shores. I'm not so sure the country itself changes. More like I change and find it more and more difficult to cope with the fear, resentment, and control that is the American ambiance.

In Oz I have a sense of security that simply disappears as soon as I cross the border into California, which is one of the more relaxed states in the 50 that make up this country.

I actually sat with people in discussion this morning who claim to love their country and want to destroy China because in some corner of their minds China threatens the stability of their own country. I feel such sadness upon hearing such phobia mixed with the arrogance that sometimes manifests as the American way of being on the planet.

In fact, the primary feeling is simply one of embarrassment that folks whom I love feel this way.

And then to add injury to insult, (I know that's backwards) when I tried to check into my motel tonight, I was told that unless I had government issued identification, I could not check in. I asked 'What if I have no a driver's license?'

'Passport will do.'

'No passport?'

'Any government issued identification is ok. But without that identification, you cannot check in.'

I'm still fuming. What kind of country is this? What kind of freedom do we have in this fascist ambiance?

Not much...not much at all.

And so, I am about to flee the 9 million folks who live in this 'land of opportunity'..and head south and then north to a place where my friends all know someone and they can vouch for me if I don't have my identification in my wallet on any given day..

I so wish I were south..way south..where identification is not necessary to live and love in the city.

Home in America

Well, not quite, but on the way...

smooth landing at LAX, jet engine poetry in hand, found the right rental car bus, scurried on a freeway where we were the only vehicle traveling at 65 mph, passed by every other car on the road, had a good night's rest and are on our way to pick up Black Mariah in Ridgecrest this morning.

More laters...

Ready, Set,...........

Bags are packed, ready to go, just waiting for the plane to leave the tarmac..so to speak

Tomorrow at 8:30 we depart the house which is no longer our house - all that we love most is packed away in plastic boxes, surrounded by bubble wrap or protected by moth proofing.

No longer does it feel like home; I can't imagine how folks who live in hotels all their working lives manage. How can they feel comfy with everyone elses stuff but none of their own surrounding them. Clean, neat, smells good, and empty of any history..a house is not a home, a lived in environment full of memories, stacked with goodies representing funny, frustrating, amazing, boring life experiences is a home..

Catch the northern hemisphere denizen very soon..love you..

Midnight Across the Equator

Wilderness, within and without, challenges Demi as she seeks her inner child, Stephanie, in California's Sierra and Australia's brilliant Outback.

Chapter 1 — Wilderness

(The first 100 words)

I banged on the front door and shouted in the quiet southern California suburb, 'Merrie, school’s over; graduations done and my backpack is in the trunk. Say good-bye to your hubby and let’s go.’

Opening the door, Merrie set her backpack on the porch. ‘You are an ebullient soul. Where did all the energy come from?’

‘And you are a poet. Where did ebullient come from?’ I leaned against the door jam and urged, ‘Let’s get under way before I cave. All of this energy is about fear — of snow, of bears, and of the spring thaw.'

Foggy foggy dew

Sitting on the back veranda attempting to finish off a soduku — no chance 'cause my glasses kept fogging up and I couldn't, of course, see the numbers on the page. Yep, that's just how humid it is right now in the great green south.

I finally gave up and settled into my computer chair to jot you all a note about the circumstances of this week.

Sunday morning and we were off to James Street in the Valley for our scrambled eggs and the best cuppa of the week. No one makes a mug of flat whites as tasty as Faye at Harvey's.

Then home again, home again, jiggidy jig.

The Master of the house is down in the cellar arranging, sweeping and generally making space for all of our most valued items — you know the stuff — no financial value, but lots of emotional riff raff...so that the kids who are renting the house don't have to worry about breaking or scuffing my tax records or his no longer useful lighting tools. There's always the tiny gifts given by students when I graduated high school, one or five of them. And naturally, the wine glasses that were a gift from his mom on the day of his first wedding.

And all the paint and stain cans from bringing the hundred year old doors into the 21st century and the goods necessary to protect the front and back veranda from the elements for one more year. Both look spiffy at the moment. The mold from last years flood monsoon washed away and the surfaces repainted. The little black ants evicted from crevices between boards and wood protection applied. The charcoal of the two of us in love transported to its own wall, covered and hung in the deep dry depths to keep it safe until we return and hang it again above the bed.

A week before our departure and I'm packed and ready to climb into the taxi. The Aussie monster will soon be in the same condition. Cleaners come on Friday for an eight hour bout with the house to make it spic and span for renters.

Why is it that we clean as we leave? According to my ex, that's a pattern I've been following for an awful lot of years. One more time, I'll follow the pattern, only this time I will return for at least another twelve months of Brisbane cafe life before finding a new Australian home.

In the meantime, hopefully, February which is sticking it's short little head over the horizon, will be a celebration for all of you. We think it will be for us.

Monsoon Bedtime

Raining again!

Rained last night, rained the night before; gonna rain tomorrow like it never rained before!

Don't know any other place I've been in my life when rain fell so hard for so long...not a steady drizzle, but a pounding, resolute storm cloud that covers the entire east coast of a continent, albeit, the smallest continent.

I'm tired of the downpour, praying for sunlight on the morrow. I have a set of stairs to paint before I leave the 'down under'. Managed to finish the yellow uprights just before the storm started yesterday, but have the red handrails to finish off.

Let there be a drying of the cloud cover, dear god of the skies. Let moonshine and sunlight cover the land for a bit so that my chores can be completed before I sail off into the up over!

Summer Saturday

Happiness is a quiet Saturday, bright sunshine, a powerful fan, a comfy seat, and a laptop ready to load with all the news that's fit to print and take back to America.

True, we're coming north very soon.

Looking forward to seeing ya'll. With very little snow on the mountain hoping to make the three mile trek to the cabin for a week of Sierra madness.

Then we're off to Arizona to visit with friends and family.

Catch you soon.