Archive for the random Category

Tippy-toe

Posted in community, family, farm, food, garden, gay, politics, random, recipe, this-n-that with tags , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2009 by bosquechica

I’m sneaking into my neglected non-fiction blog because it seems more private. Also because I’m about to make a colcannon as soon as the kitchen is under control, and this is a great place to post recipes. Also because I have an urge to say hostile things about the crazy religious right, which I won’t actually say right now, what with the colcannon and all, but just be aware, all of you crazies, that my patience is wearing thin. Damn you all, and pass the gravy.

I’ll let you know how the colcannon turns out.

Why I can never decide what to do with my weekends and other piddling details

Posted in community, family, garden, home, life, pets, random, this-n-that, work, writing with tags , , , , , , , on May 20, 2009 by bosquechica

I can’t make up my mind. It’s a holiday weekend. Should I leave for the weekend? Go with Alyx and Julie to Cochiti Lake and have a sun-fest? Go to Portales to visit Dan and Elizabeth? Go to Santa Fe for a secret weekend hideaway with my sweetie? Take the dogs camping? Paint the master bedroom a light sage green? Stay home and work in the yard?

The dogs say we can’t go to Cochiti or Portales because they would not be able to run free like the little wolves that they are. They also don’t like the Santa Fe idea because they would not be invited. They like yard work just fine as long as they are helping, but really need a good hike. They don’t care a fig about painting, unless it leads to a walk.

We’ve been discussing it for over a week now and have conclusively determined that we can’t make up our minds about anything.

We could plant some tomatoes. We could go to some movies and take a nap. We could lie around and read books.

Ok. The problem is, we can’t commit to going anywhere or doing anything. We are BAD FRIENDS who WON’T DO ANYTHING FUN. Dammit. And we’ve had friends over the years who would not commit to advance planning and have been VERY ANNOYED with them at the time. Hmm. Maybe we are overextended?

I think I’m voting to stay home and either paint or play yard games and take the dogs for many walks because I honestly feel for them, I do.

Have you ever noticed that I never talk about my work? I wonder why not? I mean, I think I could. Or about my fiction or my goals as a writer? Or about my writing group.

I think I’ll write more about writing itself, and the group that meets at my house, and what we are doing that works or does not work.

I miss my friend Ken, who just shut down his writing group after 16 continuous years.

This weekend, though, I think I’ll play it by ear.

Things to say

Posted in politics, random, this-n-that, writing with tags , , on September 29, 2008 by bosquechica

I actually do have things to say, with multiple excuses for not having said them, and having said that, I will be about to resume saying those things which I have not yet said. Things will have been said, is what I am trying to convey here.

Guess I could run for president with syntax like that, eh?

Lost my compass. Anyone seen it?

Posted in geese and guineas, insomnia, job stuff, life, random, this-n-that, Uncategorized, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 21, 2008 by bosquechica

Drat.

My brain’s gone walkabout again.

Don’t know where, exactly. When I look inside my own head, I see mostly fog.

Maybe it’s the new year making me fuzzy (August is my new year).

The chickens, geese and keets seem more important than writing.

I can’t seem to get enough sleep.

 

Maybe it’s the weather.

 

Maybe it’s my disorganized office.

Maybe it’s my hormones.

 Maybe it’s astrological.

 

Maybe it’s nothing at all.

I’ll be back when I’ve got something to say. Or when my office is clean.

Whichever comes first.

 

(Cross-posted from Cuentos – at Laurie’s suggestion.)

Fly-by

Posted in family, life, random, this-n-that with tags , , on May 7, 2008 by bosquechica

work work workHere I am, stopping in to say hello to my personal blogging self.

Hello Chica, where the hell you been?

Funny you should ask. Seems like I never see me anymore. All the time on the go. I passed me on the way out the door a week or two ago, had to pretend I didn’t see me cause I didn’t really have time to stop and chat. Been playing phone tag with meself for a month.

What, is e-mail better?

Sure, but I never answer e-mail. You should know that.

Any relief in sight?

Well, today almost everyone cancelled on me. That helped a lot. My house is a pit though, and the wife is hiding out in the study trying frantically to finish her GPS final, which she put off til the last possible minute. I push a tray of food through the door every 12 hours or so, then back out quick.

The dogs have a message for you: Pay attention to them or they will be forced to have a big fat meltdown involving sneaking out and wandering in heavy traffic or possibly just incessant head-biting games til someone puts an eye out.

Right. Well, I know that.

What about your friends, family, the geese? What about the iguana, your mom, what about going to a movie once in awhile maybe? I notice everyone’s starting to give up on inviting you to anything. Anything you want to tell them?

Not much. Just working for a living. Well . . . vacation is coming up. 10 days off, in the middle of May.  

Gonna do the happy dance?

Believe I just might. Dogs’ll probably join me, right? I mean, if they still remember who I am.

 

Doppel

Posted in body, family, life, nice things, personal history, random, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on April 7, 2008 by bosquechica

On Friday, I was shopping at Smith’s on my way home from work. I bought tortillas, sour cream, guacamole, wine and ice. Company expected. On my way out, I paused at the freezer to pick up my 10 lbs. There, I was stopped by a tiny old man with a snowy white beard. He was riding a red electric scooter chair, and his eyes were a sparkling, electric blue (not unlike my husky’s eyes). Morgan

“Whoa,” he said. “I gotta follow you for a little while.” I looked at him and smiled absent-mindedly, thinking more about my house and how to get ready for guests with less than an hour to spare. I crossed the parking lot, stopped at my car and opened the trunk. Then I realized that the little man really had followed me. I looked at him again and he looked back with those sparkling eyes, big smile.

“Excuse me, but I just had to tell you that there is a golden glow shining all round you, and following you, too. You are beautiful!”

“Thank you,” I said. “You know, you remind me of my friend Eunice F.”

“Why?” he asked. “What’s wrong with that person?”

“Not a thing,” I said back. He did a nice little preen, put his hand up against the back of his head as if puffing up his hair, and said “Well, thank you kindly” and looked delighted.

“You have a nice weekend, now,” I said. He scooted on to his own car, right next to mine, and put his things in the back seat. His license plate had DAV plates (disabled veteran) and a bumper sticker that said “Honor the dead, heal the wounded, end the war”.

I went home feeling decidedly perked up by this exchange, and thought about his strange similarity to my good friend Eunice F. Eunice F. is the seventh Eunice in a long line of Eunices. She is 63 years old, with electric blue eyes. She attracts lightning, and has been struck several times. She is an apple-faced hippie lady who lives in a stone cabin in the mountains east of Albuquerque. She is a doll-maker and an artist. She has a beard (not snowy white) that she does not remove, and she is a calm and moving storyteller. She is very poor, hauls water and raises chickens. At 63, she is suffering from the effects of a life of hard labor, and she has a lot of physical pain. She made me a doll with wings who flies around the house and appears here and there on window sills and mantlepieces, apparently at will. storyteller doll

I went home and told Mrs. Bosquechica about my strange meeting and she was amazed on many different levels. First of all, who gets stopped by total strangers with that kind of comment? Second of all, another Eunice F.? Astonishing! Funny thing is, though, that like Eunice F. and her repeated encounters with lightning, I have been stopped periodically with the “you are glowing/beautiful/ or something equally surprising” by total strangers, both men and women, since I was very young. Not, you know, weekly or anything, but about every two or three years someone does this. It’s been awhile, though, longer than usual, and I started thinking about that and about Eunice and the little man and his bumper stickers, and healing the wounded and electric scooters and lightning.  It occurred to me that, like the storyteller doll that Eunice made for me, maybe I have started flying again, maybe there has been time for healing and resuming whatever that glowing thing is that attracts lightning to some and odd compliments to others.

And here is the amazing Eunice F., for those of you who have made it this far.

Eunice F.

 

 

Apes and aphids

Posted in poetry, random, this-n-that, writing, writing practice with tags , , , , , , on March 19, 2008 by bosquechica

aphidA few thoughts about writing:

I’ve started writing fiction and poetry in small groups again after a long break. In these I work freewrite style, loose and open associations with timed writings — see Red Ravine for more on that, they are the awesome goddesses of writing practice. I love fiction and poetry, and often have no idea what I’m writing about until I’ve read it aloud.

My latest piece of timed writing, The physics lesson of Australopithecus, (written Monday in 30 minutes) is sitting percolating over at Cuentos, my fiction and poetry blog. It is a circular prose poem about time and evolution (I think). The phrase “apes and aphids” is tucked into the piece somewhere and it caught my eye.

Now, in writing practice it’s not unusual to write things like “apes and aphids” without thinking about it, and then wonder where the phrase came from. Typically, I can’t resist the urge to google and today found that “apes to aphids” referenced both other poets and the biological sciences. Nice. I am a poet with a background in the sciences; it all makes sense.

Then I keep looking: From the Universidad Completense Madrid, I find lists of published works on the biological sciences, housed in the Royal Society of London.

These include:

Self-sacrificing gall repair by aphid nymphs;
Humans deceived by predatory stealth strategy camouflaging motion;
and
A naked ape would have fewer parasites

I love all of these titles.

 Then, as I’m fiddling around linking at will, I discover that wow, Red Ravine is writing about bugs today too! Coincidence? But then again, I just stepped on a bug in my hallway in the middle of the night and had to scrub my foot in the sink (ugh), so I guess it’s just spring.

In summary, isn’t writing amazing?