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My Profile
Retro-retrospection - 2008-10-06
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5:06 p.m. - 2003-05-19
Wolf needed t-shirts. Not undershirts, but school worthy short sleeved garments which can survive a day of kindergarten and not kill me if they become stained. So I did what any sensible mom would do, I went to the head shop and bought him some tie-dye. Of course a kid named Wolf is a natural to wear tie-dye. And he has...since birth. He left the hospital wearing a wee bitsy tie-dyed Onesie my SIL bought him in Berkeley. She thought Wolf deserved tie-dye from the place tie-dye was born. Wolf has grown up wearing garish multi-hued clothing. Onesies, t-shirts, and my favorite, tie-dyed union suits. The union suits make great pajamas. There are some funny pictures from the Christmas Wolf was 2. Wolf in his union suit was brighter than the decorated tree and the gaudy wrapped presents beneath. Looking at the snaps later on my friend Maria snorted and wanted to know if Jerry Garcia had come by instead of Santa Claus. Mike and I aren’t Dead Heads. And we’ve never thought of ourselves as hippies. We’re too young for one thing. I spent the Summer of Love learning to ride a two-wheeler with training wheels; not hitching, dropping acid, and communing with my navel. I know for the younger readers that anyone in the Great Beyond of Cronedom (older than 30) is lumped together as a single generation, but know this whippersnappers, the Flower Children were before my time. This, however, doesn’t mean that life at the Sage House doesn’t have hippie-ish overtones. Besides Wolf and his tie-dyed wardrobe, Mike is Jesus-like in both dress and demeanor. Though Mike is a plumber, not a carpenter. My placid husband with his beard and waist length hair wears loose linen shirts and sandals. He exudes an aura of wise calm, which is a perfect foil to my mile-a-minute mouth, strident personality, and constant rabble rousing for environmental and humanitarian causes. If Mike is The Good Shepherd, then I am a punk haired albino Angela Davis. We are both Lefties politically, own no guns, our house smells of incense, and if the stereo is on it’s apt to be playing Buffalo Springfield or The Stones. Yet we are true to our eclectic natures and eschew many of the crunchier aspects of granola-hood. We eat red meat. A lot of it. Many hundreds of cows have gone to their deaths to feed our lust for sirloin. We like our creature comforts too and make no apologies for our conspicuous consumption and drink pricey Yuppie Scum custom blended teas in our hand thrown rough glazed mugs. We have cell phones and fax machines and an appalling FOUR computers. This last had Mladen our Bulgarian exchange student gawping at us in stupefaction (though this was not much of a change from his normal “Duh” expression). He could not believe there were people rich enough to own computers they didn’t even use. In Bulgaria ANY computer, even a cobbled together ancient Commodore 64, was a precious and valuable thing and here was his host family putting aside a perfectly functioning PC because it was too slow for our spoiled selves to bother with anymore. I don’t really have a point for this glurt. No tidy summation or moral. It’s just some random thoughts inspired by a small boy in a tie-dyed t-shirt. Later, gators! ~LA Today’s Pick: “Ramble On” by Led Zeppelin
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