Empath Alert!

Wait! Not that picture!

This picture!

I remember an early Star Trek episode that made quite an impression on me: women who were cultivated for their abilities to pick up on men’s fantasies and then become that woman. They were called empaths and were irresistible !” I think I have empath qualities that must be isolated and nipped in the bud. Not that I am worried about becoming a playmate goddess to men I meet--au contraire, I’m in danger of becoming an empath in other personality aspects.
For instance, while waiting in a long line at Best Buys, I couldn’t resist tossing a $4 CD of French music into my cart. I was desperate for music in the Jeep--I can’t listen to the radio because what they call “Christmas” music is that awful cheap chestnuts secular drivel. The Christian stations play versions of carols that sound as if the singers are a cross between the New Mainstreet Singers from “A Mighty Wind” and a gay chorus out of a Mel Brooks movie. So I really wanted some music that was not going to irritate. (Stay with me now--the empath part is coming!)
I put on the CD of French music and enjoyed it. And enjoyed it the third, fourth and fifth times. But then I noticed I was beginning to curl my lower lip down into a pout. After a couple of days I found myself shrugging my shoulders and muttering “absurd” as a reaction to almost everything. Pretty soon I was fighting the urge to take up smoking. That’s when I realized I was going into the empath mode! I wiped off my red lipstick, got out of my tight black sweater and black pants and stopped straightening my hair. You see how easily it happens? But then I noticed Empath Mode had crept in again.

The wrapped in black fashion statement adapted readily to attending the Orthodox Church for so many Christmas liturgies. I dragged out my ugliest heavy black shoes to go with my old black hippie skirt. The shawl from the old days was back in use as a head covering. I was wearing thick black tights that I’d forgotten I had! When I saw all the clergy with their high black Russian hats on, part of me tensed up as I waited for the sound of hoof beats from an approaching Red Army advance party! I really had to talk myself back to reality--I was not in a time warp where the Revolution was beginning and I was not getting ready for a casting call for the prequel to “Nickolas and Alexandra!”

Empaths beware! It sneaks up on you--it is part of the syndrome. Perhaps displaced persons are particularly susceptible. If I don’t watch it I will turn into one of the locals who glories in her gray hair and would rather forego the next Stop the War Rally than get highlights. Thank heavens I caught myself in time. By the way, do these shiny stretch bicycle pants make my butt look big?

Welcome to Northern California--again

I don’t need to click my heels to know I’m not in Kansas--I mean Bakersfield--anymore! I’m accepting that eating wheat grass will be part of my diet--me and Flicka. But tonight I had tears of laughter running down my cheeks at the great difference between the southern and northern halves of this crazy state. We arrived late at church this evening and tried to sneak in quietly. It was not to be. We had both dogs in the back seat with blankets(it’s COLD up here!) and Mr. T turned to make sure they were settled. He forgot he was in the environmentally correct Honda instead of the BIG CARBON FOOTPRINT Jeep and got his butt tangled up in the horn. Hello, folks! Then he came around to open up the car door for me and it was locked. I unlocked it just as he opened it--close, but no cigar. It set off the car alarm! More noise--why did we have to park right in front of the church doors??? He finally got that turned off and we just laid low in the dark for a few moments to let the dust settle. By that time we were very late so Mr. T went ahead to check out if it was a good time to slip in the back of the church unobtrusively. Just as he opened the door of the church some sick nut job set off a stick of dynamite! The explosion was so loud it sent out a pressure wave that almost knocked him across the threshold. Instead of a subtle gesture to come on in, I saw my very tall husband nearly jump out of his skin. I also saw a good-sized white cloud of smoke fill the air just across the street from the church. For those of you chatters who know what LOLPMP means, that’s what it was.
As church let out I overheard odd snippets of conversation--someone is “fencing and studying.” That was the first time I’ve heard ‘fencing’ used without the word illegal in the sentence in about four years. I also saw a grown male chorister wearing knickers and knee socks! Such things were not observed in the entire stay in Bakersfield.
So many other things have caught my attention--a man of some years--at least 90 of them--was taking his daily constitutional. He was also all hooked up to an iPod with speakers in both ears! What a great sight. He was walking at a better clip than I can but his iPod seemed so incongruous with his years. More power to him!

Stranger in a Familiar Land

It is wonderful to be out of the Minnie Winnie and under a real roof. At least when it rains it doesn’t sound as if someone is emptying a bucket of marbles just three feet over your head! And it has rained!!! I’d forgotten the correlation between lots of green and lots of rain. It’s also cold which has caused some forgotten joints to complain. But I will not complain--it is wonderful to be surrounded once more by beauty. The Mojave has its own special beauty that I will always love. But Bakersfield wasn’t the Mojave--I never quite figured out what Bakersfield was but am thankful to be released from that particular brain teaser.

Moving during the week before Christmas is not a good idea. Mr. T decided a tree was needed--never mind that we don’t have anything but what we had in the RV! It’s very impressive that just 5 days before Christmas one is able to buy a noble fir, two boxes of colored glass balls, three strings of lights and some gold ribbon to curl onto the branches for around $30.00 TOTAL!!! I couldn’t find a tree topper anywhere but did snag this odd burgundy feathered “thing.” A little hollowing out with a wooden spoon and we have a unique crown for our tree. Mr. T says it looks more like an ocotillo in full bloom but I think it’s just “too too!”
We are living in a retirement community. That means you have to be at least 50 to live here. It really means that the average age must be around 80. At least it’s a nice ego-boost to be so much younger than almost everyone you meet. Byrdie and Talus get taken to the polo field every day to run with their new homies. It is de rigeur to pick up after one’s dog and this presents a problem: picked up the poop isn’t hard to do but remembering to stop at the exit to the parking lot and deposit the S.O.S. in the garbage can provided can be a real challenge to folks of a “certain age.” And forgetting to make the deposit of the S.O. S. is something to be avoided!!!! It can really make a car unusable. So the locals have devised a wonderful plan--the S.O.S. is placed on the car windshield wiper on the driver’s side. That way it is nearly impossible to forget to stop and MAKE YOUR DEPOSIT. I have taken it up immediately.
The Orthodox Church is having Vespers every evening from now until Christmas. All we have to do is stay awake long enough to get to the church before it starts at 6:30pm! Tomorrow we are promised a land line, basic cable TV and high-speed internet. Dare we hope to join the Real World once again? I CAN’T WAIT!!!!

O come, thou Day-spring from on high,
And cheer us by thy drawing nigh;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadow put to flight.

Birkenstock babushkas

If I had forgotten the huge difference between Bakersfield and Sonoma County I was reminded today in spades. Not one person was wearing jeans in church! We attended Great Vespers last night at the Russian Orthodox Church(OCA) and then Divine Liturgy this morning. The choir at this church is amazing--they sing so beautifully, effortlessly and as a single entity! It is like entering a different and more perfect world. I fall prey to St. Augustine's fear of beautiful music. But eventually I was drawn to the distractions of the other people in the church.

The first group that struck me were the aging boomers who can use the modesty in dress requirements of the
Orthodox church to continue to dress the same way they did while in college in the 60ies--long gathered skirts, shawls, scarf-covered heads and Birkenstocks. Hey--I could do this! I still have most of my college wardrobe anyway. Another group of worshippers are what I call the native Russians--you can tell the women because they have the highest stilettos I've ever seen and are generally dressed as if they can go nightclubbing at the drop of a prayer rope. The most interesting group are the Eritreans--they all take off their shoes before coming into the church and the women wear these long white wraps that go over their heads and over their shoulders. They wander about the church venerating icons and doing prostrations. At one point a young woman came up to the icon stand in front of me, moved the usual icon over to one side, and set out a new icon next to it. Suddenly, there were lines of people waiting to kiss the new icon. How they saw this happen is a mystery since it was nearly standing room only--but I learned not to get between any grandmother and an icon she has her eyes on--you get an elbow in the ribs!

All the women wear skirts and cover their heads. It's actually quite nice and I rather enjoy the different possibilities with head scarves. Since there are no pews, everyone just sits on the floor for the homily--I can say with great certainty that there is no way for any woman over 25 in a skirt to gracefully get up off the floor without assistance. It doesn't look all that great even with a helping hand.
All the candles reminded me of the eco-freaks who were demanding that the Jews light one less candle in the menorah. Give me a break!!!! I think the Russian sternness would wither any idjit who made such a moronic request. Hang the carbon credits! Light a hundred more candles. Each of the 9 choir members had a candle stand with 5 tapers in it to light the music. It was wonderful.
I wanted so much to snap off some photos of everything that was going on during the Liturgy. Somehow I just knew the Russians would not have the same tolerance of bling and glitzy that the Greeks encourage!
Another part of the worship that I especially appreciated was all the men serving the Liturgy. The men did everything. I can't imagine any woman not enjoying the sight of so many men making themselves useful.

We left church before the rush and headed out to meet with our realtor. One of the great driving hazards here is the hoards of skinny-butted, shiny-shorts, intense bicyclers that spread over the bike lanes and into traffic. I suppose they think they are helping save the environment--at least they don’t ride with lit candles--only this one with a lit cigarette.

Finding a house will be a long process I think. Prices continue to fall and no one wants to buy too soon only to watch house value fall below your purchase price. Also, I suspect many of the houses on the market for nearly a year now were taken off at Christmas so they can be re-listed in January as "new" listings. It's a slippery business.

We ended the day with taking the dogs to the polo field to run with their new homies. This is the great meeting point for dog owners. Very quickly you know all the dogs' names but few of the owners. I know that will come later. Byrdie is one of four Labradoodles who frequent the field and poodles are in abundance.

Back in our little RV we are grateful for shelter from the cold and rain outside. It's cramped but it's temporary. I'd forgotten what rain, fog and cold are like. And somehow, Dwight Singing Buck just doesn't sound quite the same.

Only Memories Remain.....

“They” say moving is one of the greatest stressors on “the list.” You won’t get an argument from me. Today began with moving the Minnie back to the old manse. The dogs were ecstatic to get to pee in familiar places!!! The rental car got returned with no hassle--yayee Hertz!!--and now I’m using the RV as my main ride. The oil companies will love me. Unfortunately I discovered that all SIX tires on the Minnie needed replacing. A large part of the day was spent in the waiting area of a tire shop--not a favorite chick haunt by any means. And now, of course, it needs an alignment. The handyman discovered that all our escrow papers and DEED TO THE HOUSE had been Fed-Exed to the empty house and left on the porch--last Friday! Everything needs to be signed, witnessed, notarized and sealed with blood.

Unfortunately with Mr. T in Texas it involves Fed-Exing everything everywhere. To cap off the day, the Jeep ended up requiring a new door so that has been ordered. The great question is whether or not we will actually all be ready to leave Bakersfield FOR THE SECOND TIME on Thursday!! I make no bets.



To make this story even more heart-rending, here is a picture of our Christmas tree this year. $6.00 at the Gottschalk’s sale--sigh. Notice the bottle of local Bako red wine. Thank God for good neighbors who loaned me an extension cord so I can sit at my puter and watch “White Christmas” and spend another night at the no-longer home but not quite past tense either.

I also include a picture of some cute carolers who entertained the seniors at the local Independent Living community. The wee one didn’t have a clue but provided the most entertainment. The rest were a fun girl scout troop who really did cheer up the entire audience. These things can mean a lot--certainly more appreciated by me this year since I have no real Christmas of my own. I’ll just ride along on any Christmas coattails I can.








A text that strikes closer to home than it ever has before:

O come, thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.

Living a Country Western Song

Homeless. Living in RV Park back on the streets of Bakersfield. The Jeep is in the shop having body work done after high desert wind did serious damage by blowing door into front fender. The lonely train whistle blows every half hour as the long freight trains roll past the RV Park. My man is in Texas and I'm still in Bakersfield. Notice a recurring theme? Now if I can get all this to rhyme and set it to a heartbreak tune I'll have a real hit on my hands. The only part that doesn't match is renting a Ford Taurus from Hertz rather than driving somebody's old pick-em up truck!

I've decided I must have done something really bad that I need to repent of. Otherwise, God wouldn't be letting me spend so much time in Purgatory. But this has led me to a greater understanding of Purgatory: I have reached the place of knowing that I would willingly give up whatever is keeping me here in order to get out of here! If there is any attachment still left, I'm at the point of renouncing whatever it is in order to achieve a greater good--the greatest good!

In any event, I did go to mass this morning. My first try was to go to the small Ukrainian Catholic mission that used to be on Truxton--it was gone. Signs gone. All gone. So much for good intentions! So I went back to the big sale at Gottschalks. Some guilt set in and I headed for a Catholic mass. There I was treated to a "miked" organist who chatted at the congregation while playing the introduction to the opening song--one could not call it a hymn. The homily equated Steven King with John the Baptist. I won't even go there. King was referred to as the 21st century John the Baptist and his commencement speech at Vassar was quoted extensively--Steven King, not John the Baptist. The bottom line was "when you're laying in a ditch with broken glass in your hair, no one takes Mastercard. WOW!!!" The 'WOW' was the priest's comment, not mine. I could have cried.

Upon returning to the RV Park I realized I had a serious math problem: a rental car to return and an RV to move out of the park. One driver and two vehicles. That dog don't hunt!!! Thanks to the help of a dear former neighbor I have made plans to at least keep the vehicles in one place and maybe even get the rental car returned. The Jeep is still in the body shop with no word so far on how the repairs are going.

I remember when I thought life was like a Bach concerto. And all it turned out to be was another verse in a generic Country Western song.