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Crystallized

8 May

Through the generosity of an anonymous source, Brian and I (Cole, Esther, and friends that came to visit while we were there), had the privilege of spending a few days at Crystal Cove state park in Laguna Beach–a couple weeks back.  Crystal Cove is a place fond to all of my maiden and Bent family.  Essentially, “the Cove”, as we call it, took part in molding and shaping each of my siblings and I into who we were, are, and will be.  I was born in 1970, the true year my family began (my humble estimation of course), but I am told my parents and the elder siblings ventured to our private coastal get away in the years preceding me.  As a child of the Cove, we had freedom that sadly my own children have not had the opportunity to experience.  It was a private beach and to ensure the privacy of its residents, Alan (and his little mutt of a dog “Ocious”–short for ferocious), patrolled the beach, the road, and the homes on foot (and bike) with a shotgun under his arm or slung over his shoulder.  I don’t remember having boundaries of any sort while there.  I’m sure, in my infancy and toddler-hood, I was more closely watched.  But as a child I had the uninhibited ability to roam the coast and tide-pools at my leisure…as did us all.  As an adolescent, the roaming continued even though the beach had lost its “privacy status” as it was traded from the Irvine family and given over to the state of California in 1979.  Even so, our mindset was that it was ours.  And Alan continued his antics though now the state park rangers had something to say about his shotgun totting ways.

Throughout my 42 years I have experienced love at the Cove, loss at the Cove, joy, sadness, adventure, little green men, perverse men fondling themselves in the crevices of the cliff, starfish, abalone, shells, dolphins, whales, sea lions, seagulls, pelicans, lobster traps, skunks, movie stars, common folk, driftwood, sea life, tar, splinters, stickers from plants, etc.

I have had every kind of holiday, through out the years, at the Cove.  Had sibling fights, watched siblings break things, like a foot and glass, jammed my toes on the boardwalk more times than necessary, fell in love, fell out of love, fell in love again.  Attended one, two, three–(whose counting?)–weddings.  Had parties, played volleyball, rode horses, lit fireworks, learned about drugs and the city of Newport jail, learned about chorizo and eggs, and had my first fruit smoothie in the Benson house.  I would go on, but at this point I am truly only indulging myself with the memories, and if I continue,  I will get lost and unable to find my way back to the point of this post!

Nowadays the homes are called cottages, and they are for rent to the general public.  So to treat my weary soul, my anonymous donor sent me and my family off to the Cove and we basked in the serenity of the sea life and the slow pace required to do “nothing”.  I confess that one day, when Brian and I were alone, we both felt awkward.  Mostly because we were both accustomed to having friends (whom we considered like family) to interact with, either at their home or on the beach.  So we found ourselves a bit uneasy, until the evening when several of the former residents had come to the Cove to celebrate the birthday of a mutual friend.  Finally, the hustle and bustle of catching up with friends and having people in and out made us calm down and rest–as was the intent of our being there.  And when the patriarch of the “Yacht Club” rustled the feathers of the park ranger, as was his custom when living there, I knew I was home.  But then the party was over and the group packed up and left.  Thankfully Esther and two friends showed up for a sleepover, so when we all awoke in the morning the house was full of life and interaction…just as I remember.

Which brings me to a place where I need to wrap up this writing.  I honestly don’t remember the original intent of my starting it.  Did I want to impart something profound about rest?  Was I going to simply share the experience?  Did I have a comedic angle?  …questions that will linger unanswered;  for life has again resumed at a rate too great for me to keep hold of.  So instead of conveying drops of wisdom or truth, I will simply leave with a photo collage of our few days respite at Crystal Cove State Park.  The locale of my formative years, and the locale my ashes will receive upon my departure from this world.  …it has served me well.

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Bird Flew

2 Apr

I am currently in northern California.  San Jose to be exact.  I drove my son, Cole and his dog, Piper, up from southern Cal, yesterday.  It should have been a six hour drive, but due to an incinerated vehicle in Los Angeles and heavy traffic all the way through, we made it up here in seven and one half hours.

Let me tell you, I am tired today!

We are again up here so Cole can receive the neurological acupuncture treatments from Dr.’s Zhu and Moyee.  The plan is for treatments every day, except Sundays, for the next two weeks.  I will fly home for this upcoming weekend and fly back on Monday.  In my absence, my brother in law is taking charge.  For you new readers to this blog, my son’s face is paralyzed, his balance altered, and he lacks full ocular function.

Anyway, today I took him to his appointment at 11:30a.m.  I then took Piper to an, almost always, empty dog park.  When I reunited with Cole an hour later, he could move the upper portion of his nose…bilaterally!  It is just incredible and almost unbelievable…even when I’m first hand witness to it.  We then took a break for lunch back at our hotel room.  And while Cole finished his bento-box, Piper and I went down to the outdoor pool and jacuzzi area.  Both of which are enclosed by a gate so I was able to take her off leash while I dipped my feet in the warmth of the jacuzzi and made a few phone calls.

The reasons I am so wiped out today is one, I was up working past midnight the night before we left.  Two, I drove all the day in traffic yesterday.  Three, last night I had crashing-the-car-nightmares which kept waking me with a jolt.  Four, I had a dog on my bed the whole night.  Five, I’m wrangling our luggage, my purse, the car and hotel doors, my son, his dog, my beverage, and the hotel room/door key.  Shoot, that last one is enough to make me tired all by itself.  I’ve decided I need to hire a “Rivka Wrangler”.  Anyone looking for a job?  I pay with “please and thank you!” 🙂

Well we finished up at the clinic today at 4p.m.  Actually, Cole called it quits…his threshold had been met.  So with us both being so tired I knew I needed to let Piper have one more go round on the enclosed courtyard grass before heading up to our room (where I hoped to land for a while).  But as my life would have it, my full-proof, proactive planning, backfired.  Piper spied a cute bird couple “twitterpating”… and then all of a sudden, BAM!! …one was in her mouth.  She then paraded her kill while the other widowed avian spouse flew around quite disgruntled.

So here I was, just a few minutes ago, first day in our hotel and my son’s dog hunts, kills, parades, and then proceeds to eat one of the little birdies that lives here.  I don’t even know what to say…  After I once again wrangled Piper back onto her leash (after her first victory she was ready for round two, three, who knows probably four and five), we returned to Cole in our room and I told him what had happened.  He asked, “Did anybody see?”   “Heck if I know,” was my reply–because I nabbed Piper as fast as I could and pretty much ran back to our room.

I called Brian and told him.  I also mentioned, “I am not much for ‘animal kingdom’.  I don’t even know what or how to handle a bird eating dog!”  To which he replied, “Me neither.”

HELLO SAN JOSE; THE BENTS ARE HERE!!

p.s. Still no migraine, even with lack of sleep, a stressful drive, a son, and a bird dog!

Beauty AND the Beast!

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Raleigh circa 1970’s

25 Mar

I want to introduce you to my bicycle.  I can’t remember how we (Brian and I) acquired it, but I do know that I have had it for many, many years.  When my son and daughter were little, I had a child-seat bolted to it and as they were big enough to ride on their own two wheeler, the bolts were removed (along with the seat).  Additionally, it sported a small, white basket attached to the handle bars which had a blue license plate on the front with the name, “Dorothy”.  This bike has been a friend to me all these years, getting me to and fro and back again as I so desired.  Its little basket has held more weight than it should because I would load it down with treasures from the store or the farmer’s market.  It accompanied the children and I many a times to our local California Mission, and waited patiently outside as we contemplated man’s adoration of G-d as painted on the chapel walls.  The Raleigh has doubled as a dirt bike, beach cruiser, mountain bike, and exhibition parade rider.  It is small but perfectly sized to me.

Now this past Christmas my loving husband totally, thoroughly, and completely bombed on his gift to me.  That is right, I did say “bombed”!  He bought me a pair of Jessica Simpson brand pumps.  They were water colored and extremely high.  So high heeled, in fact, I could have put them on and just stood in one place…that is all.  Not to mention my style is rooted in influences OTHER than Jessica Simpson, so needless to say I made no qualms about my complete disdain with his erroneous purchase.  My husband now stands corrected.

And in all honesty, the only thing I really wanted (besides a Clarisonic, Yves St. Lauren dress–or Dior for that matter, an excursion to the Greek Islands, five million cash, or a house on the beach) was to have my little Raleigh bike spruced up and new tires put on it.  …after a year spent land locked to my feet, I am ready to feel the ocean breeze in my face as I ride, ride, ride.

So after belittle-ling the multi-colored street walkers I had just been given I told him my bicycle could use some lovin’.  His response was, “well geez, that is easy…I can do that right now!”  And you know what?  He did.  …what a guy, the best in the west–for me!!  So here I am with my shined and ready Raleigh.  The basket was too sad to keep, but “Dorothy” is patiently awaiting her new replacement.

“Vive le vélo”

P.s. Let me introduce you to a very cool bicycle blog.  Here is the url for an entry written a couple of years ago but with a similar subject matter:  lovelybike.blogspot.com

My “new” Christmas gif

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