My Daddy

...Is in the hospital with pneumonia.  Please send all your healing energy and wishes that he may be home again soon.  

Thanks friends.  

New suities!

Alex models the new suit:




Greggie has some strange ideas about how to wear a bikini!

It's all French to me

Last night as we were getting ready for bed, the girls were brushing their teeth.  The medicine cabinet was open and we had this conversation:

G: Mom, can I have some of your champagne?

M:  What?  What champagne,  honey?

G: Up there.  The champagne that's up there.

A:  I think she means your perfume, Mother.

M:  Oh, perfume, Greggie?

G:  Yeah, perfume champagne.  Can I have some, right here [pointing to the back of her neck].

M:  Okay, I guess. Which one do you want?

So Greggie picked the Burberry and Alex picked the Jil Sander #4 and then they each had to have some of the other.  And we all went to bed.  I got to fall asleep in haze of my past scents.  I think I'll stick with my essential oils from now on!  Wheeeeew!!!!

Today

The crazy ash tree:

Ceanothus in bloom:

Greggie checks out the garden beds, gets sun in her eyes:


Greggie after PBJ:

The girls swing in the hammock; Alex gets the belly tickles BAD!



Making pizza with Daddy:

A Song For My Daughter

Open your arms wide, girl.
Make them go around.
Hold your dog, hold your cat,
Hold your sister too.
Open them big.
Make them go around.

Open your arms wide, girl.
Make them go around.
Hold your Mama, hold you Dad,
Hold your Gramma too.
Open them big.
Make them go around.

Open your arms wide, girl.
Make them go around.
Hold your home, hold your town,
Hold your country too.
Open them big.
Make them go around.

Open your arms wide, girl.
Make them go around.
Hold the forest, hold the sea,
Hold the desert too.
Open them big.
Make them go around.

Open your arms wide, girl.
Make them go around.
Hold the Earth, hold the Sky,
Hold all the stars too.
Open them big.
Make them go around.

Open your arms wide, girl.
Make them go around.
Hold my heart, hold your dreams,
Hold all the hope there is.
Open them big, girl.
Make them go around.

Marlyn Marincas, March 5, 2009

They go to sleep SO differently

Alex falls asleep slowly, gently, gradually; she fades out, drifts away.  Gregorie is the Tasmanian devil one moment and snoring the next.  Wham bam, sound asleep.  Alex is like a radio with a twist dial for volume and on/off -- she twists all the way to super low and then clicks off.  Greggie is like a gas burner with electric ignition -- in order to get to off, she has to pass through high and IGNITE!

"I'm wild!  I'm wild!  I AM WILD!!! zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

Breathe

When I stepped outside this morning, our gardens smelled like a redwood forest! The heavy rains of yesterday and the overnight had released the aromas from our grove of small sequoias (we have dawn, giant and coastal). I stepped back into the house to get a book and then went and sat on our meditation bench and read:

I celebrate myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease ... observing a spear of summer grass.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes ... the shelves are crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume ... it has no taste of the distillation ... it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever ... I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath,
Echos, ripples, and buzzed whispers ...loveroot, silkthread, crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration .. the beating of my heart ... the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and the dark-colored sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belched words of my voice ... words loosed to the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses ... a few embraces ... a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hillsides,
The feeling of health ... the full-noon trill ... the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.

Walt Whitman,  from Leaves of Grass