H. Hsu Word Salad

My mom is the best.  Surely millions of people shall take issue with that, but I’m now convinced that this is so.  At age 62 she has spent this year taking swimming, computer class, investing in real estate (on a budget), earned a peer counseling certificate, studied for and taken and probably passed the state insurance license exam…all this & I send all my dying houseplants to her place for rehabilitative treatment as well.  I have a doctorate degree, but of course this is largely due to mom & dad. And this degree, can not render me as multi-talented, sunny and full of pure spunk as she is. 

Not to mention being both a cuter and more kind hearted soul than I shall ever be. By now it’s fairly obvious Ben & I have the gloomdoom penchant for melancholy that comes from our other, more writerly parent.

I suppose I should thank mom for passing on this heart of a pansy that I grapple with. The side of me whose life goal is to be the best Alpha-bitch I can be, must reside with this generous-to-a -fault inheritance.  Again, thank goodness for that giant softy or else I’d practically be certifiable Asperger’s or Schizoid.

Today we went to the Stanford Pow wow and sat for hours in the sun eating frybread and watching the gathering of all nations & listening to drums & singers that could only described with that over used term: Soul stirring. Or, makes you want to bust a gut and pound that drum with them and weep/farm/hunt/get that white devil…sigh.  Any way, now I have photos of my ‘lil mum with some very handsome brown men wearing leather and feathers.

priceless.

Happy Mother’s Day to all. 

I absolutely, deeply respect Moms.  So much, I know I’m not nearly qualified to be one.

p.S. our only "baby" right now - the little dove chick I rescued when the cradle/nest fell, he lives!  That closed eye, fuzzy white chick that I found at death’s door is currently a wide-eyed babe sprouting actual feathers; mom no longer sits upon him, rather now he nestles beside her.

All is well in the world today.  My suspicions earlier in the week that perhaps I was becomig bipolar, are unfounded. Just a rather unfortunate melding of timing, hormones, deadlines, housework (or the lack thereof), and not enough exercise paired with excessive caffeine & its buddy alcohol. L.A. will do that to ya. 

Add to all that my work deadlines and the mourning dove drama on my balcony and next thing you know I am weepy over fairly random things (simultanouesly heartsick yet at the same time kinda laughing at myself because this is all so silly & funny) and headed to Costco for the self-medications of choice: cheesecake & heineken. (but certainly not at the same time).

We rented Sexo Y Lucia, a very well-reviewed Spanish movie, and basically got kinda wierded out. I do recommend the movie, I am in love with Paz Vega the lead actress.  But it sort of leaves one with the impression that Spanish people are kinky as all get out, that you should not own a large dog or have a porn star mom, that life begins and heals and perhaps ends on an Isla Bonita, and that writers are prone to driving themselves insane.  Hmm. Can’t comment on the truthfullness of all that but hey, it’s food for thought.  So if I ever get off my duff and write all these books in my head will it send me into a psychotic break?

Oh, and it was a reminder that foreign films are quite comfy with full frontal nudity, equal opportunity for actors y actresses alike.

As for the avian drama, I was aghast when the nest/plant blew down again the next day.  I arrived home to find a fretful dove pacing in front my the garage, letting me ocme way too close, and giving me looks as I drove in.  This time I placed the lavendar geraniums, teeny nest, and egg onto a more stable table on our balcony.  I cupped that little chick in my hands & huffed warm air onto its chilly little body and laid it next to its sibling egg.  Mom/Dad dove is back now and all appears well although I wonder if that other egg shall ever hatch given all this trauma.

I also made my 10 miles run in 5 days goal for this week…have a new blister to show for it. 

We’re off to Lalime’s tonight, (dear reader you should try this place!) on Gilman in Berkeley-I’ve liked it more than Chez Panisse.

Hasta luego

People often ask about professional boundaires in my line of work, and how I keep from getting too down on life after all these years of listening to stories of some of the worst luck or worst of human behavior. God knows I came back from NOLA ready to give up on the U.S. as a whole and pack my bags for Belize forever, or move to some mountain top and never speak to another person again.

Simple answer is that there seems to be a few compartments in my head that function and do all the tough stuff when I work. And unlike life, at least at work I am ready for the uknown. Every day if full of surprises and that’s a big part of why I love this work.  So if someone decides to tell me of the heinous crime they have committed or were the victim of-it comes with the territory.

But today, after sitting with a whole lot of personal human pain and managing to retain hopefullness on behalf of those who have currently lost it-

I then came home to find that the little doves who have built a nest on my hanging geranium pot have had a disaster.  I guess the plant blew down somehow. Funny how completely horrified I was and heartsick at the sight of that teeny nest, you’d think I found a human corpse on my balcony deck…

I hung the plant back up and put this precious little white egg back (never mind that I’ve eaten about a half dozen eggs in the past 2 weeks without batting an eye)-then I noticed that the poor gray fuzzy little chick laying there was NOT dead so I scooped it up too and put her/him back in the nest. Holding that puny, big-eyed speck of life with 2 fingers felt like such a big responsibility, and at this point I was aware of Mom or Dad Dove watching us from afar.

They’ve been put back, short one broken egg I could not save. I am pacing like an expectant father waiting for the doves to come back, wondering if I should foster parent this chick by feeding & warming it myself, but like Discovery Channel-we must let nature take its course!

OK- time to meet Paul for a run. 2 miles tonight toward my goal of 10  miles before SUnday for this week. 

Last weekend brought me 0 miles and a serious Crow Royal buzz but that’s a whole other blog about flashbacks and L.A. and Koreans, Taiwanese friends, CSPP, plagues, and a PT cruiser : )

Perhaps we’ll  keep that one offline…

Meanwhile P is out somewhere playing softball on tonight-our 3rd wedding anniversary. How time flies! We’ve postponed the fancy dinner out until the weekend when we can really celebrate properly.

Let’s hope we can celebrate our day with a reunited dove family right outside our bedroom window…