ashes, ashes . . .

I've been meaning to write about ash distribution for some time. You may think me morbid, with my seeming obsession with scattering my parents' ashes all over the world. But what can I say? It feels right. And for whatever reason, I feel compelled to document their dispersal in this blog. (See earlier posts about Dad on the beach, at Grandma's grave, and around San Francisco.) Why do I even bother? Do I really believe that some part of their soul or essence will remain in these locations; locations that mean something to me, or meant something to them? Perhaps. Or maybe I just don't want to be burdened with a box full of human remains, and so I'd rather distribute them in a tasteful and loving way. Or all of the above.

This spring I scattered some of Mom's ashes around La Jolla shores: up on the cliffs where we had her memorial gathering, overlooking the Pacific Ocean; and under the Pier that juts out into the ocean from her former office at Scripps Institute of Oceanography. Now Mom and Dad are both scattered on the shores of La Jolla, but I took care to place them at opposite ends! Not that it matters, since their ashes were almost immediately washed out to sea where everything co-mingles anyway -- just like our souls or energy (or whatever it is) rejoins the greater energy force (or whatever you want to call it) when we leave this earthly sphere. But they both needed to be scattered in La Jolla because that's where I was conceived.

apples

One bad apple ruins the whole barrel. It's true. And what do you do when you have more bad apples than good apples? Throw out the whole barrel and start over? Or do you just keep eating them, worms and all? Or maybe you can mash them all up into applesauce, with lots of cinnamon, and that will somehow make them more palatable. But sometimes all you need is one GOOD apple to make the barrel worthwhile. There's no saving a rotten apple, but you can choose to focus on the sweet crisp apples -- even if they're few and far between -- and to be a shiny apple yourself.

I am a shiny apple.

humanity

There are a ton of flags on the lawn at Pepperdine up in Malibu overlooking the sea. As you might expect, each flag represents a person who died on September 11, 2001, ten years ago. You can't help but be moved by this, yet there's also a part of me that resists the sentiment, finds something cloying and melodramatic about the notions of patriotism and heroism, and the intense nostalgia that our culture attaches to the events that occurred that day. Why is that? Am I just horribly jaded or afraid of my own emotions? Or is it more that I'm disconcerted by the fact that our culture is disproportionately obsessed with one tragic moment, while virtually ignoring the things that may have caused it, or the fact that we somehow avoided allowing such a shocking, potentially pivotal moment to have any real effect on how we live our daily lives? Or all of the above?

for mom

This is a flattened candy corn I found in Balboa Park this weekend. It's been flattened by people stepping on it, distorting it into a larger irregular shape, but always identifiable by its tricolor striation. It reminds me of Mom. This sounds ridiculous but it's true. Once upon a time, we were riding the escalator at Nordstroms together, and we looked over the edge to see a gigantic candy corn on the lobby floor below. This is back in the day when they used to have live piano players. When we arrived at the lobby level, we saw that it was indeed a regular candy corn that had been trampled by dozens (if not hundreds) of people passing through the lobby until it had been flattened and expanded into seriously like ten times its original size. Perhaps time has exaggerated the true size of the candy corn, but it was a story that we often remembered and laughed about together, many times to the point of hysteria. For some reason it was just so absurd and hilarious. And we would've laughed about this one this weekend, even though it pales in comparison to the original, inspirational candy corn.

wtf

Apparently at a recent evening event at the zoo, some bastards managed to injure two of the resident meerkats. The meerkats live in an open enclosure so that people can see them clearly and enjoy their antics, and also so that the meerkats can see the blue sky and feel the fresh air on their little faces. It's a happy and popular exhibit. They're charming and fascinating animals. So why the FUCK would someone want to hurt them? One of them had her head/jaw smashed, and the other one was all scraped up -- both injured in ways that only a bastard human could have caused. It makes me so SICK. Of course they'll never find the culprits, but if they ever do, I recommend that they be put down immediately. Anyone who intentionally takes another life (except in self defense) forfeits their own. Even more so when it's a completely innocent life, of a captive animal, no less. These poor zoo creatures are only here for our amusement -- and supposedly our education and edification. If you think it's fun to shoot fish in a barrel, you should be shot in the head.

current priorities

Current priority #1: Find a dress
We've set a date, reserved our plane tickets, and booked hotels in Florence, Ravenna, and Venice. We've signed a contract with the nice people who will (presumably) facilitate our civil service in the Sala Rossa. Mr. G is working on rings and a suit. And I need a damn dress. I thought I just wanted a light blue cocktail-type dress until a few days ago when I suddenly realized that I must have a white wedding dress. What the hell? Of course they all look weird to me because unlike many girls, I haven't spent all my time up until this point fantasizing about my wedding day. I don't want it to be too lacy, but I don't want it to be too plain. I want white, not cream or champagne. Do I want floor length or tea length? Strapless or sleeveless? Fitted or flowing? Sleek or fluffy? Simple and sophisticated or a bit outrageous because what-the-hell-you-only-do-this once-right? So many decisions, and literally an unlimited number of dresses to choose from. UNLIMITED! I need to make a dress selection within the next two months, never mind the accessories which must follow. And here's the really tricky part: it has to be something that suits both me AND Mr. G!

Current priority #2: Rent the condo
I would also LOVE to rent the condo within the next two months, but maybe that's asking too much. All I want is a graduate student couple, or maybe a visiting professor and his/her partner, who'll pay between $1,500-$2,000/month to allow me to pay the bills and make a little profit. The place is in excellent condition, in a wonderful and peaceful location, and it's perfectly outfitted with lovely furnishings, a patio & deck, a selection of sheets, towels, and dishes. You'll love it! I've posted it all over the university sites, and am trying to spread the word, but I have zero viable candidates. I must find a way to make this work because I am not about to sell the place, for a myriad of reasons.

Pretty much everything else can wait.

la jolla playhouse

Mom's memorial stone is finally in place at the La Jolla Playhouse, and it looks great! The Playhouse was one of Mom's favorite spots for local theater, and she saw many performances there over the years, with many friends. Gregory Peck was one of its original founders, back in the day (he's a local boy, you know). We had originally planned to have a plaque placed on one of the seats inside the theater, but then we learned about the stones, which are obviously so much more beautiful and permanent. Plus, you can visit anytime because it's outside!

Her stone is right in the front row in the main courtyard, basking in the warm La Jolla sun in the mornings, and cooling in the gentle shade of the eucalyptus trees in the afternoon. The courtyard is the site of many receptions and celebratory events, and of course theater-goers mix and mingle there at intermission. Now all these happy people, feeling enriched by quality theatrical performances, will see Mom's stone and know that she was loved.