Monday, November 11, 2013

National Hippie Day


I was flipping the waffle iron with its gluten free non-dairy waffles, and my daughter had the baby in tow since her husband was hunting elk, and then there was the houseguest my husband found and brought home.  This was also the week of the fourth storm, washing out the arroyo and the truckloads of gravel he had shoveled onto the road.  It all felt very tenuous and not like we were 66 and 68, but like the old days.  I didn't even mention that a bear got 17 of the chickens my daughter and their housemates were raising, carefully and on organic grain from Dixon.  I hope the bear appreciated their organic status. And the good news, the kids sold the yurt.

About halfway through the waffle flipping, the iron itself 100 years old and cast iron, I felt it.
"I feel just like a hippie."  My daughter laughed but no one else saw anything vaguely humorous.
We made the theme for the day National Hippie Day and kept ourselves amused and our minds off the snow up north that the elk hunters were certainly braving.

We made granola. Now, I used to make bread, yogurt, and granola on a weekly basis, but I hadn't made any since probably 1978.  I don't have the documentation, though I still have the recipes.  I can tell you how to make carob brownies, Ellen's apple cake, Angel's Chow Mein, and Kahlua. I can let you know all the names we considered for our first child in 1974, from Anna to Sophia Claire to Zachary. I have the guitar chords to "He's got the whole world in his hands' and "Michael Finnegan."
I have miniature patterns for ethic fashion and directions for corn husk dolls all in a tiny red notebook.

The funny thing is, my life has not changed all that much. We live in the house we designed and began building in 1976.  I cook less, but I still heat with wood, recycle, drive a bad road, have babies showing up unexpectedly, not to mention stray houseguests and dogs.  I live in New Mexico, not back east and these occurrences are normal. I wrote a poem this week  called "Things I didn't tell my brother" when he calls and asks how we are.  It depends if you are asking according to Back East standards and Eastern Standard Time or New Mexico, where the mountains and time zones are Rocky.

Let's ask the kids. Who has health insurance, raise your hand?  Who froze chile?  Who is secure in their housing arrangement and has mortgage in hand?  Who has enough firewood?  Who got an elk?

On National Hippie Day we not only made granola, my daughter made me ghee and printed out its benefits which I didn't want to tell her I used to know myself in 1970.  We took a walk during which, while carrying the baby in a front pack she took off shoes, thus leaving bare footprints on the La Puebla road.  We found out that the three weird dome shaped structures that came over-night are meant to be a meditation center.  I don't know if anyone mentioned to the owner that they are right next to the Rio Grande Sportsman's Club where the sounds of guns popping fills the air, and which may have targets aimed in their direction.

The houseguest didn't spend a second night, he was told in meditation to go back to Phoenix.  He left before dinner which is hard on a Jewish mother/hippie/poet.  He asked if he could shower before leaving. I said, of course.  Now our shower is in the greenhouse. It is very tropical and what many people enjoy about our house.  He emerged minutes later and I said, "That was a very quick shower."
He said is was just an "aura cleansing."

I have no imagination.  I couldn't make my life up. Does anybody need a very large dog?
Happy National Hippie Day.  Hope to see you next year.  Bring maple syrup.
A few days earlier. Halloween at the mall.  I am masquerading as a regular person.

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