Both Men & Men Pugs,
Shavasana, Rolling to One Side
and Ujjayi Breathing
before even attending a class.
Mar 29 2016
Both Men & Men Pugs,
Shavasana, Rolling to One Side
and Ujjayi Breathing
before even attending a class.
Nov 24 2014
Thurs. Nov. 10th, 2011 was the 236th Birthday of the US Marine Corps. The U.S. Marine Corps is one year older than the United States of America.
[On November 10, 1775, the 1st Continental Congress commissioned Samuel Nicholas, a Quaker innkeeper, to raise two battalions of marines in Philadelphia. The tavern’s manager, Robert Mullan acted as marine recruiter. Prospective volunteers came to Tun Tavern, most importantly, to serve the country by joining the corps, and secondly, for cold beer. The first Continental U.S. Marine unit was made up of one hundred Rhode Islanders commanded by Captain Nicholas. Thank you wikipedia, I made a donation and changed a few words.]
[Now called the Officer’s Candidates Course, it is currently a ten-month program located then and now at Quantico, Virginia where my sister, Gina was born. By the way, she was a $6 baby. It includes the legendary Marine Corps Boot Camp from which the common term “boot camp” is borrowed, an umbrella term encompassing any kind of grueling physical test. I’m confident any other “boot camp” pales in comparison to the real thing.]
This class has had numerous reunions over the years because this class had four United States Generals. Everyone commissioned a second lieutenant has to go through Officer’s Basic School.
This picture is from the cookbook that my mother made for me with recipes of my family and friends when I was married. It is in a section entitled “Marine Corps Cooks.” I don’t have it with me to see her words exactly, but I am remembering that they included a few of the following points:
From here on my notetaking and comprehension break down because it was getting too detailed to write. I should not talk about or relay things I don’t know about but this is what is written:
[Dad, please post corrections. I didn’t google for checking]
That’s really the end of my notes from dad’s story by phone on the Eve of the USMC Birthday. The marines I met at the Candle Club in Wichita confirmed what he must have said, which is that after Officer’s Training he was then sent to Camp LeJeune, “Home of Expeditionary Forces in Readiness.” That is, he was assigned to a mission which he would lead and Camp LeJeune was the base where he was prepared for this duty.
I do remember asking my father what he thought at that time when he was on the boat to the Phillippines. With the humor and self-deprecating smile that anyone who knows my father can imagine, he said something to the effect of,
“Man! I might just die over here!”
And, I’m sure that is what any or at least many honest Marines say to themselves so often when they go to work each day and serve our Country when on a mission. But they go to work anyway, because they have taken it on as their duty to serve and protect our country.
So with whatever you choose
to be your mission in life
and from the child of a marine,
born at Camp LeJeune
Aug 3 2014
We had two Folk Arts Festivals at a one-room Schoolhouse south of Meade, Kansas. There were over a 1,000 people in attendance at the first, and this was on the day of a huge rainstorm. It’s always time to party when it rains in southwest Kansas.
We wrote a Grassroots Arts Grant to fund it, which mainly consisted of
PS What I most remember about Ken, who had icy blue eyes and curly blond hair, was his comment about dating.
He worked with his father and spent a lot of time on a tractor when he didn’t have a part in any PBS documentary. [I thought this was pretty impressive and indicative of his ability to model behavior since he was blond and I hadn’t thought this was a genetic trait. But in hindsight, since he was also German, maybe there are some characteristics of similarity between the two cultures, dunno. Please forgive me if I’m offending anyone here with broad generalizations about cultures or early tribes of origin.]
So back to his comment. He said that he needed a wife because the women did the beadwork. I didn’t take this wrong, he just needed a support system and later found a wonderful person.
I’m not sure who did the tanning, that also appeared pretty time consuming. I believe the men exclusively historically did the large animal hunt, but maybe someone else has a few random stories to tell…
I don’t bank on anyone’s history about who did the designs….when has labor ever not put their mark on their handiwork regardless of whose signature is on it, whose body wears it, or who funds it? 🙂
That’s called “Making something beautiful is worth doing well.” It sometimes takes a lot of spirit to get the job Done.
May 31 2014
When I worked at an Art Museum, what I liked the most about it was that I didn’t have to talk.
Yes, pretty amazing to hear from me, isn’t it?
But I really did all the time anyway, in the way I like the best. And the other day, I was passing one of the patrons with whom I’d chatted it up while on my post.[I saw her at the Saturday morning market in Old OP, I was browsing the beets. She was on wheels, parked at the periphery by the parsley, but fully aware of her presence.]
Paula: “Heeey!” “It’s been a while!”
Stroller Girl: “what’s up! look at all these colors…makes me wanna’ paint, what about you?”
Paula: “…workin’ on it, more like drawings….”
Stroller Girl: “Any new codependents in your life….?”
Paula: “well, you know what they say ‘54 is the new 65′….I’m getting wiser everyday…
My Grandmother Millie only made it to 97, though.”
“What if they bump up that number in the system and make it higher…
I might not re-set to your sagacity. “
Stroller Girl: “I still haven’t shaken these two…I’m going to give them some time…
I’ve heard if you can get them to three they get a little better.
I just have to stick with my program….”
“they’re such whiners sometimes, though. A little self-discipline
tempered with Gaga-acceptance would go a long way.”
“But, the food is good…and, it pays the rent.
so….until I get a Barbie Car and grow a pair, these wheels are as good as it gets,”
Paula: “You know it is nice to have a little of my own space and hi-place, but the solo thing is overrated…
And I’ll tell you, so is lookin’ out for yourself and growing up….”
“I’ve now been known to grow a pair, too, these days.
But, only when warranted & I really get pushed.
Sugar coated, of course.”
Paula: “But, I didn’t mean the kids…you know what I mean…”
Stroller Girl: “well, you know they say ‘one is the new 5...'”
You know these guy babes, though….I don’t get it...
Bald is the look and they’re wearing rugs
White is the new black but I’m only seeing it at the roots…
Who in heaven’s nursery taught them all this stuff…
Is this supposed to be what we want? So much work! hi maintenance stuff!”
Paula: “Well, I think WE did, but it’s kind of a chicken or egg thing, don’t know what came first…”
“I just look at it as Pay Back. “
“It’s pretty weird times, though…
just when I thought I must look 80 with all the attention from ‘peers,’
I mesmerized some four year old across a crowded restaurant…cute guy.”
“It was really pretty flattering …he hadn’t even tasted my fried chicken.
…really had a nice van, so I was curious about the nod.”
“I think it was my shoes….”
Stroller Girl: “Yea, I know that guy….buggy’s a Porsche P’4911, right?”
Paula: “Yes! …..and….?”
Stroller Girl: “Well, I’m sure your shoes were great, but I think he has a foot fetish.
And remember what they say….”
Paula: “What’s that?”
Stroller Girl: “It’s only when a babe gives you a key to his Porsche
that you know
you’re close to winning his heart.“
Jul 11 2012
I saw Michael Savage, The Artist, the other day at Eddy’s.
We have different coffee schedules with our respective yoga-paint patterns.
Anyway, we only had a minute for an update.
We don’t really need to get into the context.
And, I don’t want to put word’s in someone else’s mouth, but I think it went something like this.
To paraphrase the Sauvage:
“Well, in the [good] old’n days, the wife [in the country] just died!”
Jul 1 2012
It’s a form of window shopping which requires no discussion of,
“whether or not we can afford it.”
If you can, your name is below it and we thank you.
May 23 2012
I can’t really remember what exactly was the issue here,
you’ll have to ask the Boss.
But, I do remember
that there was a female involved.
May 3 2012
I really shouldn’t talk about my family too much. But, I had the privilege of living with a man that would leave drawings like this on his bedroom floor. He was eleven. Look at the right hand…
Here are some things to know about Bob Burnquist.
But back to this man with whom I had the privilege of living.
We only had about 120′ of concrete on the ranch, a curving 3′ wide sidewalk from the freestanding garage to the house. You can see on this site plan underneath these words. Note that the larger curving drives between the buildings are NOT concrete but packed dirt. In fact, this sidewalk was about the only concrete within a 6-10 mile radius of our home depending on the direction. [concrete inside of stock tanks does not count, not big enough for skateboarding even in a small circle.] But the point is, it was enough for this man I lived with to master many moves on the board he bought for himself.
Determination knows no dirt boundaries.
This man is likely both dee-jaying and studying engineering stuff like formations and reservoirs this weekend. And I hope, dancing in-between all of the work and play…to keep it fluid…to keep it loose. He taught me all of my best moves.
Thanks for showing me how to rein it in and check both sides of the gray in life. Dance hard, dance on.
Feb 14 2012
Valentine’s Day, Feb. 14, 2012. Kansas City.
I moved recently to Kansas City and I feel as if I am living in Central Park East, upper 70s (?). Haven’t really a clue where as I don’t know NYC that well, but thinking since the Nelson is south and a little west and aligning this with the Met, I would say this is approximately my neighborhood. No point, but ADD has taken full hold working on financial, legal, unpacking, car title, health insurance, and numerous other things which I classify as WORK.
So, I had to take a break to do some of my other work today as it is Valentine’s Day and we all need to treat ourselves.
First, a preface.
My daughter texted last night:
“Well XXX and I prob don’t go much. (???, new i-phone). I kind of want to dress up though and we’ll just go to din andhe’ll stay with me in KC.”[XXX is name not disclosed to protect his privacy as a very smart first year full-ride KU law student by way of his former position as Assistant Pro at the Phoenix Country Club].
“Jay thinks vday is so stupid.”
Now, as a smart mother, I agreed and sent a long negative viral text rant about social pressures, consumption, media driven economy, men having pressure to show their roll with gift, women having pressure to tell their friends what their “man” got them since the girl with the best (translation to many is $$, don’t agree) gifts supposedly has “won” which takes all women back into the dark ages in so many ways I won’t go into it relative to women taking control over their lives. Here are a few of the excerpts:
“…i hate those stupid special menus where they jack up prices and serve stupid bad valentiny food. Go to a gay bar or google knuckleheads. I may have to do this, greAt idea paula [someone else introduced me so I can’t take credit for finding this.]”
“you have to rebel itherwise (i-phone again) ots a lose lose for all. I did always like Dad’s dove bites never turn down a choc or flower but sometimes this happens for no holiday whatsover.”
“Plus men who buy into it will really hate it if they were socially forced into it for 30 years.”
“That being said, if i ever get surprised with a car or a big diamond i wont throw it back in anyone’s face.”
“I’m probably just jealous.”
Can you imagine having a mother like this from he!! who shares what reality of life might be like with this kind of cynical bad attitude 30 years from now? One good thing about mothers is that they can be a good role model or a frightening example, both work equally well.
Just ignore me, my first reaction is always negative, it’s kind of a boundary off-putting thing after which point I am totally open to whatever was said or suggested. I then have gotten this off my chest, have to make amends, and proceed to the PollyAnna Stuff. Any design perfectionistic people understand the critical nature. That’s what keeps buildings from falling down and artistic people working for nothing but their unrealistic desire to make others happy just like comedians want to make us laugh and musicians want to make us feel. We all have needs to be met.
Valentine’s Day. There was only one thing on the agenda.
Zum Store to have a tour with old family-personal-h.s.-KU friend Linda.
Tour was incredible. Soap room, other products room, met all the pups and peeps, beautiful creative design at every turn with ornate mirrors, corner booths with custom ottomans, an accounts receivable in metal orange casework to die for.
After: purchases for Lace and her BF.
Grapefruit Body Oil. Purchased this for myself the other day. Lace grew up on pink grapefruit juice, so once again chose as preferable to the featured love oil scent for both genders and for positive memory association. We also had sectioned broiled pink grapefruit Christmas morning with powdered sugar. Very very nice.
On recommendation from a handsome man in the front office, I chose for XXX the shaving soap, a very mild clean masculine appropriate almost non-scent.
The fine young man at Starbuck’s on Main who gave me directions recommended the cedar. I asked if he also wore plaid shirts as he had fine beard. “Yes,” he replied. “And do you do log rolling?” “Yes,” he replied. “And you are working the lumberjack gig tonight?”, I said. “Of course.” Thumbs up!
But this just didn’t seem fitting for a man who wears beautiful golf shirts of the Scottsdale genre.
a note: Daisy the pug at Zum was wary of me and I was told she is normally so friendly. I was a little taken aback, maybe she smelled Rosie who does tend to be a bit aggressive at first and left some scent on me. I really was kind of hurt, dogs usually love me. I have pug paintings all over my website, have had 5 pugs in my life, wrote a little Prairie Pug Book. I will have to work on this, maybe I came off too strong. She may have also heard that I often photograph pugs, probably sensing that I might sneak a pic and use her to blatantly market the nothing I have to sell. Smart puggie, just like those (I still call them) Indians at the Taos Pueblo remind me,”It’s going to cost you.” I don’t think Daisy will want a gift certificate at the liquor store, though. I’ll have to think on this.
I wanted to take a picture of all the pretty displays and colors in front retail but it didn’t seem appropriate to ask after all of their kindness and time today.
OK, it’s 6:30, and I have to get on to my Valentine’s Celebration with a drink at Nara with Lace and BF before their dinner at Drunken Fish. Her gift also includes a Juicy Couture cute little baby doll nightset but don’t tell her.
After that, I have no plan, but certainly will celebrate love in the air. I am my special someone these days and want to bathe in everyone elses’s happy feelings, so I will go out SOMEWHERE, regardless.
(translation, may go see Freud-Jung movie for the third time, except I missed the 7:30, so home to try to figure out this pesky cable thing and remote. Urban living is so difficult).
It was a Perfect Valentine’s Day.
Jan 14 2012
The best thing about heaven is that Mark is going to be there and he won’t have aged. I still have dreams about Mark and I’m not sure what awakens me to remember ?? Maybe I shouldn’t say too much more about that, except that at the end I am always laughing. The killer abs phrase is from Marthe whose specific memory is from grasping Mark’s torso from the rear of his motorcycle. He was one of those real guys who drove a motorcycle for the real reason in the 70s which is that no father or family was going to supply him with a car. It was paid for with labor, in Mark’s case, construction for Chuck Stratford as well as measuring with Dave Wood for my father Dean Graves.
Marthe, Mark and I pal’ed around together sometimes. This threesome was in part because we all had volkswagen beetles. A few tangent notes about those:
a cultural sidenote: Prior to this time, my mother, as did many women, existed by either doing without a car during the day or driving their husband’s car to work so that they could use the car that day for their grocery shopping, to take a child to the doctor, or for their wash and set. Remember that our mother’s mothers still had those embroidered tea towels that said “Monday, ironing, Tues. washing…etc.”.
This was actually pretty common and one of reasons social psychologists explain the sharp rise in divorce of women in the early and mid-70s. Women now had wheels. That is, with freedom of movement, came freedom to work. As men lost physical control over women, they lost control over the children and that is when our society just went straight to hell, at least as some may see it.
Plus, vacuum sweepers and all the appliances (supposedly) meant there was less housework for women (NOT) to goof around and go buy stuff. Or, in the case with the women in my family, to go do some work other than housework which used their education so they could make money to have a little fun using their own cash and pay someone else (provide another woman with a job) to do the work for which they now needed help.
so back to car cultural sidenote: I don’t really believe that the car was the downfall of men’s and women’s societal roles. Barbie may not have had or wanted a Dream House, but in my mind there was always a Barbie throughout history who had her wheels, even if it was in her mind.
…and back to volkswagen beetles: One time in the SME parking lot we put all their noses together for a kiss. Mark was kind of joint property, even among the best of women friends. And the laughing we all would share….a man among men and a stud among women, both liking him equally well.
And back to Mark. Mark’s mother, who raised two wonderful sons alone, had to have been an incredibly strong and independent woman. The only memory I have of Mark speaking of his father was a memory about A.I.’ing cattle in Texas with him one summer as a young boy. A.I’ing is artificially inseminating. So, I now think this is interesting and curious, having lived on a ranch.
My life is recorded through notes to my mother and kept them all. If I wrote a note to my parents telling them where I was and with whom, and this guy was responsible and watched my back, I had very a long leash. Mark spent a lot of time hanging out at our house and staying for dinner, long after our brief period of dating. My family thoroughly enjoyed him.
Mark was hanging around at my house the night of the Kansas City Flood. While we were at the top of 67th St. (a relatively high point), a later addition to our house prior to a later drain caused a foot high lake of water in front of our home. Mark helped my father release the floodgates by opening the garage and bucketing thousands of gallons of water from the front to the back of our house. A good man.
Here is a note from Mark:
Contrary to what everyone always wrote in my yearbook, I was not that nice. This was a date that I accepted because this is what I thought my mother was telling me was the thing to do. That is, to say yes to the first invitation. I do not agree with this, by the way, and in this case, it is not nice to accept and then to complain dearly about having to fulfill the commitment behind the person’s back, in this case the date with Paul Leonard. I always had a fear of boys liking me for which I had no really jazzy feeling in return if you get what I mean. My daughter explains how to handle this by advising, “even the nice nerdy ones still think there is always a chance. So to be both kind but to not shun an overture of friendship, “you just need to keep clarifying from the very beginning that if you hang out with them nothing is NEVER going to happen.” In this case in hindsight, I realize it wasn’t even an issue. In fact, this is the male company with whom today I am very, if not most comfortable.
Anyway, Mark came over to help me prepare for the dreaded date, and when I went to the door to greet Paul, I found that Mark had stuck this on the front door. As I left, Mark yelled from my parents bedroom (he spent lots of time here with various people when we had parties before tee pee’ing SM South when my parents did their 3 week trip to the southwest every fall), “she doesn’t want to go with you!” and other hurtful things that I maybe had been saying but I really think not that bad but just maybe something like, “I REALLY am dreading going” but regardless now I don’t like to admit to having said or thought mean things or laughed at the much meaner things that Mark (boys in general) said.
I am so sorry Paul Le(o)nard. It was really a very nice date and we went to Pumperniks in Ranch Mart. And I had matzoh ball soup for the first time. I think Paul was Jewish, so that also commemorates this nice date in my mind.
I’m putting in this photo to document that the fleece sleeper Mark wore at the pep club assembly our Sr. Year was mine and link myself with this fame. All of the (football players..??? or was it the basketball yell leaders?) dressed up as cheerleaders and pep club girls. And then Mark arrived in the pink bunny sleeper. Hanging out at the Graves, he’d seen this quite a bit, but I can’t quite remember any preliminary try-on or how he snuck it out of my house. It was quite formfitting on him. Translation: Mark’s @$$ looked great in it, all hard but soft and fuzzy, too.
Mark saw it all with me, was like a brother I never had. The white zit medicine I’d forget I had all over my face when he’d drop by but he’d never mention until I’d been chatting for an hour. Understanding my habit of taping over blemishes so I’d keep my hands off (by this time I wasn’t bothered that he saw this) but then later letting me forget the tape was on my face when I had to go answer the door. (He had no blemishes but I did have a little picking obsession at the time.)
So that is it, or at least a few Marcus “Ottawa” Allen stories. Please post if you have more.
Samouyah, Mark. (“we will meet again” in Taosien).
All the women will be lined up for a kiss, a funny, and those great abs. We have missed you!