What's This?

     I was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading a newspaper. My dear husband was tidying up, and he picked up a pair of black denim jeans from the chair arm. He searched the pockets in preparation for throwing them in the wash, and came up with a packaged condom from the front right pocket. He looks at me and says "What's this?". Not in a "You're cheating on me, I'll kill you!", type of tone, but more of an "I'm waiting for your logical explanation of this, Darling.", semi-amused but unwilling to put up with any cuckolding situation tone. And I had one, I said, "Don't look at me, I don't like using condoms, I stay married so I can get it bareback. Those are Elder Son's jeans." We smiled at each other, Elder Son is turning 21 in a couple of months, and any sign of any sort of reponsibility is welcomed with tears of joy by us.
     I remember the day I dragged him down the aisle of the supermarket to where the sex-related products were. That was an awkward 60 seconds. I'll wager he'd already spotted them on previous trips, but I wanted to reinforce that use of these was strongly recommended and a level of reponsibility we expected of him. I think he was about 14, quite a handsome lad, and I knew it was only a matter of time that trouble would find him or he, it.
     The next year, when we informed him of his little sister's impending arrival, he burst out with, "You idiots!". He had no concept that we might actually want another kid, and that we hadn't tried to prevent one. But he agrees now that she was a worthwhile project.

Addendum: If You Let Yourself Get Dehydrated, You Want To Die

Today, ibuprofen is love.

Love is Rain, You Die in One Week Without Water

This morning I ran out to my backyard before work to find small flowers for my desk. It had rained all night and was still coming down softly. My herbs, sage, parsley, chives & garlic chives had been wilted by unseasonably dry heat the week before, but had all returned to vibrant turgidity with the blessing of moisture. I chose the purple garlic chive blooms, tearing the stems and getting garlicky juices on my fingers.  It smelled like walking past Pasta Jay's Italian restaurant.

"The quality of mercy is not strained, it falleth as the gentle rain from heaven."  - from Portia's speech in Shakespeare's 'The Merchant of Venice'

Girl's Haiku

To my daughter;

Darling curled tadpole
My breast as thy soft pillow
My highest honor

Thy name is bright light
Brilliant, difficult star
Challenge me always

Lucky Mommy me
Precious, treasured, she sleeps safe
Guard like Ceberus

Modern Hero

     Professor Wangari Muta Maathai , Nobel laureate and founder of the Green Belt Movement, died recently in her home country of Kenya at 71 of ovarian cancer.  She was my hero. Faced with the negative effects of deforestation in her homeland, she started the Green Belt Movement in 1977, working with women to improve their livelihoods by paying them to care for newly planted trees, increasing their access to resources like firewood for cooking and clean water. She became a great advocate for better management of natural resources and for sustainability, equity, and justice. Professor Maathai’s departure is untimely and a very great loss to all who knew her—as a mother, relative, co-worker, colleague, role model, and heroine; or who admired her determination to make the world a more peaceful, healthier, and better place.

http://greenbeltmovement.org/n.php?id=252- Green Belt Movement

http://greenbeltmovement.org/w.php?id=114- A Billion Trees Campaign.

Since 1977, GBM communities have planted over 45 million trees in Kenya to increase natural forest cover and restore essential ecosystems.

I'm pre-chilling tree seeds in my back yard and refrigerator (olive, apple, plum) to sprout this spring and give away or sell for money to donate to the Green Belt Movement in Haiti.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

     When I was nineteen, I went on a little tear around New Orleans, all on my own.  I went to the Audobon Zoo. It was the most beautiful, lush, exotic place I had ever been. The animals wandered freely, mixed in cageless enclosures for the most part (a bold new idea back then), with peacocks, both blue-green and white albinos walking on the paths with visitors. It was like being in a great Rajah's palace for me. I had come especially to see the white tiger exhibited there, never having seen anything but orange tigers in Colorado zoos.
     I was a little surprised to see how small a space it was kept in, compared with the modern, luxurious multiple-species spaces I'd seen previously. It was a bare dirt yard of about 60 by 30 feet with a few boulders breaking the dull flatness, and a denlike area in back all surrounded by an artificial ravine 25 feet deep and 20 feet across. The tiger was a full grown male, half again as large as any ordinary tiger I'd ever seen. He was exquisitely muscled with a perfect, gorgeous, black-striped-on-immaculate-white coat, eyes a vivid sapphire. He was playing with a log cut like firewood, obviously given to him by his keepers for amusement. The log was of a solid, heavy wood, one that a human would strain to lift, but that he was able to dangle off one paw's set of claws like a light stick. He bit down hard on the log and splintered it.
     There was a family of five watching the tiger a little ways away from me, they all gasped at the beast's display of raw power. The tiger himself did not deign to notice any of us or look our way, I had seen this behaviour in many zoo animals before. I understand them, I wouldn't give my captors the satisfaction of my notice, either. The family moved on to other exhibits, talking excitedly, leaving me alone with the tiger.
     I felt like I should move on, it was a big zoo, but he was so very beautiful, I just lingered there. The tiger dropped the log piece and turned his head to the back of the enclosure. His face had such a look of  terrible boredom and disgust, I felt so sorry for him. Then he looked directly at me, fixedly, his eyes saying "I wish I could get a hold of your meaty body, dangle it off my claws and bite down hard.". I felt a rush, a thrill and a shot of adrenalin, which made me jump involutarily, but I kept hold of the rail. The tiger and I regarded each other as he flexed his scimitar claws, and thousands of years of evolution urged me to leave the vicinity of the tiger. But it's not every day one can be in direct communication with such a creature, I trembled and stayed. It was a delicious shiver, because I knew I was safe from his predation. He stood up and walked to the edge of the dirt yard to get the closest possible look at me, but he knew I was out of reach, and the look of disgust returned. He felt he had a perfect right to tear me to pieces for his own amusement or a snack, and he was angry with me for being human, out of reach. 

Two Haiku About Insects

Small flies drink my sweat
In this arid mountain clime
I their sylvan spring


Buddhist removal
Of spider in the bathtub
Innocent shower