Which Comes First the Margareta or the Flowers?

 

One year, when I was younger than six, either Mom or Grandma and I made a May Basket, I took it to the neighbors and hung it on their doorknob.

Our May Basket was a little holder made of colored paper and filled with flowers. The idea is to sneak over to your neighbor's and anonymously hang it on their doorknob.

That reminds me of Aloha and the lady on the beach in Hawaii who told me that Aloha is a way of life. It means to do good without expecting anything in return. (Aloha also means Hello, Goodbye, and I love you.)

I don't know where the May Basket tradition in my family came from, and I don't remember who instigated it, but I thought of it this morning when I realized it is May 5 and thought it was May Day.  However, I got my holidays confused, for May Day is May 1, while today is May 5, the Cinco De Mayo—Mexico's Independence Day, and for us Margareta Day. Hey, happy to celebrate a country's independence. We used to celebrate it in San Diego, and I would rather miss hearing a Mariachi band play Cielito Lindo, Mexico's folk waltz song. (See below for the translation and to listen to it played.)

This morning, I wondered what and if I should write. I usually post a blog on Tuesday and I will be busy tomorrow.

My uppermost thought this morning was what happened to us as people. Has entropy settled in?  Is it me? Is it prevalent that many people seem not to care?  Do you?

I felt that all our hard-fought-for rights are being stripped away, and somehow we are allowing it to happen. And why are people so concerned with how people are—black or white or yellow or red, gay, straight, bisexual, transsexual, Christian, Buddhist, Agnostic, Atheist, and want to legislate it somehow?  Do we really want everyone to be the same? So, see, I wasn't on the best end of the happiness scale.

 

 Then I thought of the May flowers and called my daughter to ask about the day of their wedding anniversary. I knew it was in May when the wild Iris' are in bloom. I looked out into the gorgeous spring day, and I thought of the fun and the Margaritas my best friend and I would order at the exquisite Bizarre De Mundo in San Diego, and remembering those salt-rimmed glasses makes my mouth water even now. 

 

 

My friend would order a fishbowl-sized Margareta as I was the designated driver. Her little boy and my two girls would run around within the confines of the courtyard, and we would send them to the toy store with enough money to purchase a tiny figurine they could add to their collections. My friend and I would talk for so long we would be clear-headed by the time we left, and on the Cinco De Mayo there would be a celebration with a spread of hors d' oeuvres in the court yard, and a mariachi band would play, among other songs, Cielito Lindo.

The rousing refrain is:  

Ay, ay, ay, ay,

Canta y no llores,

Porque cantando se alegran,

Cielito lindo, los corazones.

"Woe, woe, woe, woe,

Sing and don't cry,

Because singing, darling,

Lifts our hearts."

To Listen:

 

https://youtu.be/ojghyoSxsys

Cielito Lindo   (Sweet Belle, Oh Heavenly One, Pretty Darling, Lovely Sweet One)

One person described the song as a celebration of love, life, and the human spirit.

(The translation is more like from a lover to a loved one.—but then romance lifts our hearts.)

 

 

Through dark tresses, heavenly one,

a pair of deep brown eyes,

lower as they approach,

a stolen glance.

Ay, ay, ay, ay,

sing and don't cry,

heavenly one, for singing

gladdens he...

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/cielito-lindo-heavenly-one.html

Did Peaches Send her Blog Post “Don’t Worry!” to Me?

 

First, since it is May 1, exactly two years since I decided to write a memoir I’m honoring our Pink dogwood Tree.

He ha, two years. An entirely new memoir that could be stuffed into that space.

However, two years ago, on this day, I began writing a memoir and declared that I would try to write 50,000 words before the blossoms fell from the tree.

The last blossom fell thirty days later, and I had only written 48,000. It beat me.

 

Wasn’t it cool that I could look into that living color bouquet outside my window and type out my life?

Seven years ago, when we bought this house, the tree was cut down to its barebones, a trunk and five branches. Nary, a twig or branch showed, no leaves either, but then it had no branches to support them, and it was December to boot. I didn’t pay much attention to the tree until it pushed out a teeny tiny pink blossom one year, and I exclaimed, “I think it is a dogwood tree!”

A Pink Dogwood is one of my favorite trees. Since then, it has grown about 20 feet and pushed pinkness out all over itself. (I think my ashes ought to be sprinkled under that tree. It can decide how long we will live, and we can go out together.)

After about 16 thousand dumb title ideas for my memoir, I am now calling it Echoes after a Ray Bradbury’s quote, “No sound, once made, is ever truly lost.”

I love that guy—he hugged me once, did I tell you? Oh, that was name-dropping, but I hoped his hug would somehow shore up a bit of talent for me. Besides, he seemed like such a happy fellow and taught like Socrates—out under a tree.

And from Barbara Davis (The Last of the Moon Girls) comes:

“At Some Point, We Must Step into our Stories and claim them as our own. It won’t be easy, stepping into the light never was, but it’s what we’re called to do.”

 

From Peaches’ blog comes: “Don’t Worry,”  August 6, 2012.

 

 Me catching a power nap under the steering wheel.

 

Don't Worry!

I Peaches, Party Poodle for Peace, am a happy dog. Don’t worry about the future. Future will take care of itself. Many people don’t know how to be happy, don’t roll in grass, don’t know how to dig for moles and come to house with nose stacked with dirt. Don’t know how to give high-pitched happy bark in greeting, or how to give low bark that tells owner, “Check this out.”

Worry? I don’t worry—waste of time. Well, I did worry when I accompanied Bear to the Vet.  Couldn't help it! I thought I would have to go see the doctor, maybe be left there, but didn’t. Whew!

Can’t nap and worry.  Can’t chase lizards and worry. Worry takes away joy. I live for joy.

I have a job that makes me happy. I look after my people and the house. I go for rides and walks with family. I keep lizards away from the door. I keep Obi Kitty away from my food dish too—cats are so sneaky.

 

Me

An aside from Momma: Little Peaches has Addison’s Disease which is not a disease, but a condition. It means her adrenal glands are not working properly.

Peaches lives with her chronic health condition. We take care of her, we give her medication, she maintains. She goes about her life in a positive way. If she feels poorly we give her more subcutaneous fluid. She makes a contribution to life. I love her, she loves me, and she pontificates on her blog…

 

On my way to my other blog this morning, I stopped by Dog Blog by Peaches and saw that a few people check in occasionally, even though she hasn’t written since 2021. I saw that one person has Peaches’ blog noted on her blog. Bless that girl, so I downloaded her book on Kindle—haven’t read it yet, maybe tonight.

https://monicaeuen.blogspot.com/ 

 

Did Peaches send me to her blog because I need the message?

That’s the way it works sometimes.

https://dogblogbypeaches.blogspot.com/