busy day

This morning I found an inexhaustible source of joy. Not the baby...the joy she brings us ebbs and flows with her moods, and ours. I'm talking about the ocean. We drove to Whole Foods so that Kenneth could pursue employment there, and then we were close to the beach, so we went. After sunscreening our child to a pale shade of ghostly, then feeding, and burping, we walked across the soft sand just past the life guard station.
"Oh my god, it's just like that show, Bay...view?"
"BayWatch."
"Do all the life guards wear those red swimsuits?"
"Yes, and they're orange."
"Oh, as in, safety."
"Yeah."
Then the waves said, "Come and play!"
So I handed Kenneth the baby, dropped the sling, left my shoes, and walked directly into the water.
I don't really remember the last time I stood on a rapidly diminishing pile of sand, watching my feet sink deep as the water rushes past, making me feel like I am being pulled backwards by some impossible force which disturbs nothing but the sand. Maybe this was the only time it's happened. Whatever happened, it erased all my grown-upness and seriousness for just a minute and I played. Waves crashed into my ankles and made me dizzy with joy. Joy! If ten minutes of wading in the surf can bring such joy to a somewhat grumpy, uptight squarepants like me, then why do we dump so much trash into the oceans? We shouldn't. We should dump our sad, worrisome selves in the oceans instead and stay put until either we get buried in the sand or we emerge laughing, like I did today. I can't wait to get back in there with a swimsuit. Today cemented my intention to learn how to surf. If that's the only thing that goes right with this trip, then I'll be able to surf!

From there the day just got better and better, even on the rollercoaster of an expanded daily family life. We traveled across the city to Los Feliz, to see Grandmomma Jane, Kenneth's mother's mother. She printed out Edie's astrological chart and tried to tell me what some of the aspects meant while the rest of the family talked over her, around her, at her, and under her. Oh well, I can look up the rest of the chart in a book someday. :) We met Grandmomma's live-in George, who had a stroke and has difficulty speaking his mind. He is definitely aware of his surroundings, though. He spoke mostly to Edie, "Hey, man. Hey, man. Hey, man. Yeah, right. Yeah. Yeah right. Ha ha. Yeah, man."
She babbled right back. "Blah blah blah blah blah."
There was a flying saucer toy, just sitting on the table. It came with a remote control trigger. Kenneth found it right away. So, for much of our visit there was a hovering space craft, dipping, floating, weaving, falling, and flipping over. Edie LOVED it, and hated it a bit at the same time. She stared at it and said "Huh!" a couple of times.

We walked to a taco stand down the street, rumored to be one of Oprah's recommended eats. While we waited for our food, I met Warren "Bugs" from Liverpool. He'd come to LA in 1967 and never left. He introduced me to his gorgeous dog, Red Girl, who was half Chow and half Retriever. She was gracious enough to give my hand a soft kiss, then turned away in disinterest for the remainder of our conversation. He showed me the scar on his stomach where a 6 pound tumor had been removed, and told me that he'd just found out he would not have to undergo chemo treatments a second time. Then our food was ready and we took it home to enjoy with our delicious watermelon from the saturday market.

After lunch, Kenneth and I took a walk through the neighborhood. He promised me he'd show me his "old haunts", just as soon as we stopped at 7-11 for a slushie. Edie had been really fussy back at Grandmomma's house, hungry but too excited to eat. By the time we'd walked a few blocks, she'd settled down enough to nurse in the sling. This is a pretty obvious maneuver, with the sling we have. She sits up in the babyhawk while I hand her the boob as if we are at a lunch counter. Maybe I should wear a hairnet and a bored expression. Anyways, we walked by this guy in the parking lot, who was overseeing the installation of a white cadillac upon a tow truck's ramp. He had a captain's hat on, boating shoes, a navy blue jacket, white plastic sunglasses, and a yellow teeshirt that said "Breastfeeding is a gift of health" or something to that effect, with the universal symbol for breastfeeding on it. I know this, because he came into 7-11 after seeing our traveling picnic enter the store, and showed his shirt to Kenneth. I didn't believe Kenneth at first so when we left the store, I demanded to see the tee shirt. Sure enough.

Then, after making fun of Kenneth's lame "old haunts", he casually mentioned that we were headed for the La Luz de Jesus gallery. A few years ago I was really digging Mark Ryden, when he and other Juxtapozy artists were being shown regularly at the La Luz de Jesus. I remember sighing wistfully, to think that I couldn't go to the gallery because, sigh, I lived in Seattle. It never crossed my mind that I might actually go there someday, or that when I did, it would be free, and just because we were in the neighborhood. What a lovely surprise. Oh, and we picked up some oilcloth for our diaper pail while we were there, because the whole front of the gallery is a store filled with everything you never needed, but lusted after anyways. Bobbleheads, sideshow freak action figures, essential oils that you can mix by the dropperful, vinyl toys, a Frida Kahlo beaded curtain, and loads of delicious coffee table books about...everything. None of that stuff even matters, though, once you make your way back to the gallery section. The art is phenomenal.

The day ended with more loveliness, after Edie screamed and screamed to be in the carseat past her bedtime. (She hates doing anything but going to bed, past her bedtime, especially and most of all, riding in the carseat.) Nothing helped, not pulling over to feed her, not changing her diaper, not walking up and down the block we stopped on with her, not feeding her again, not until we employed the trick that Grandmomma had imparted just before we left.
"Press her close to your chest, sing, 'Ommmmmmmmm,' and make it resonate your whole body."
We couldn't put her to our skin, but we both sang "OM" to her for a while as her eyeballs rolled around in her sleepy, sweaty head, as she almost fell asleep, and then as she caught her seventeenth wind and started babbling happily.

"Did she just say 'f@*k'?"