In the kitchen at girlfriend’s house chatting, I’m on a swing-by quick visit. She’s telling me about her day. I’m leaning in, her hair and skin looking good. She’s got a narrative drive happening. Suddenly she says, "And what are you up to?”.

The day hits the brakes, stops. Wait. I got this. I know this one.

I’ve been right here listening, even with all the distractions; the curving fit of her sweater, the monk-moaning noise from the fridge—,  and just outside the window, the raw colors of Oregon popping and beckoning, like a childhood sweetheart yelling, "Come on out!”.

It’s a simple sort of ask: "What’s going on…with you?"  Projects underway, accomplishments. The near future.  

I could say, "I made a sandwich".  But even if perfectly true, putting it at the top of the list is not that funny. Had I forgotten to take a medication?

And not answering right away;  slowly nodding, pausing to think it over, might also be disconcerting.  A check-engine light coming on just as I start singing in the car.  

It would activate that beautiful gal detective look. 

She once told me that the world is my oyster. So I better get to it. The shucking, the jiving.

But instead, I’m an animal newly returned. I zoom gently in on her neck and start there. One kiss. Then another,  saying…."This. Just this. I’m up to this”.

My First Zoom Class

Arriving early 
I snagged the middle square of the top row
The other squares filled in
Most of them had name tags on but
I could tell, right away
These weren’t the best of the best. Not
by a long shot. I suddenly realized it wasn't a coincidence
that I was here

But I was hopeful
I had heard that our teacher, Mrs. Smeary
was good, super good
sometimes funny, she could get real and
snap it.  Bring it all into focus
and I could use some of that because
 
I liked how
her long dark hair came down
in braids

But Mrs Smeary
sucker punched us
saying put away your books
(What books? I thought)

She said
This will count
I’ll ask questions. And you will answer
Right now you can hear each other, but I can mute
you at any time
Remember to use whole sentences

Adjectives? said Amy, bottom square, third row, poor lighting
Do I need to use adjectives?

Yes, said Mrs. Smeary. And what does an adjective do?
It modifies a noun, said Amy
Very good, said Mrs. Smeary. And what does modify mean?
Jimmy, first square, second row, waved frantically
Yes Jimmy? 
It means to take something that used to be fun and happy
and put it on a chair in front of a computer
and push and tease it until it feels bad and sad

This is BS, said Bobby, 3rd square down, 4th row
Yeah, said Jenny,  fifth row. Crapola
CBD, small for his age, and twitchy, bottom row, corner
ducked out of the screen and then
popped back in
Funky dipshit stuff, he said

After that there was no sound but
I could tell the others were saying more things
because their lips were moving

Boys and girls, said Mrs Smeary
Does anyone have anything positive and uplifting to say?

Jimmy's hand shot up
Jimmy? Said Mrs. Smeary
Only love can break your heart, said Jimmy

That’s lovely said Mrs Smeary
and it was a song,
but that’s not quite right, is it?
Because love doesn't actually
break anything. Love makes us feel good, right?

Several heads perked up at this
Jenny’s eyes uncrossed as she spoke up 
My Mother says that love is an illusion
a feeling that doesn’t last...

My love is like a fart on a windy day, muttered Bobby
Like in summertime, when rocks are warmed by the sun
said CBD
Very good, said Mrs. Smeary
And then you pick them up and smash things with them, said Jimmy
Okay now, said Mrs. Smeary

Samantha, in the square next to me, looked resolute, she
hadn’t said anything yet, and now she sat up straight. Her bangs looked good to me
I think, she said, 
Love
is in the winter 
when you’ve been outside and it’s cold and wet and you’re tired and you finally get home
and you come inside and take off your coat and boots
and there’s a fire going in the fireplace and the heat just pours over you
and you smell cookies in the oven. And your mom comes to you and puts
her hands on your cheeks
and she smooths back your hair and kisses the top of your head
and she asks 
what did you learn today?

The class fell silent
Rain splattered against the window 
Mrs. Smeary seemed at a loss for words
A bell rang somewhere
Our first Zoom class was over

The Gift

This morning we met on the orchard path

And before meeting, I checked my list:
Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Receiving Gifts?, Quality Time, and Physical Touch
(I still couldn't remember your preference, so my plan
was to try 'em all)

Beneath the trees 
the leaves lay in circles 
like skirts dropped by ballerinas

As I struggled to say the words
that would bring you into my arms
the sky exhaled
and an angel landed on your head!

We stopped moving breathing
although your ears wiggled
as you looked up

I studied the angel's feet
Those of a young woman
graceful, narrow, and slightly birdlike
long toes gripping your shoulders

Then more surprise as the angel let loose a quiet fart
like a lamb testing a tiny trumpet
A faint scent blossomed
honeysuckle musk?

The angel's face (no mask!) mixed mirth and melancholy
grey eyes gazed beyond the earth
longing for her kind

One tremendous flap  
she was gone
A feather the size of a baby's pinkie spiraled to the ground

Your hands moved up to your messed hair
and lifted an egg from the top of your head

Tonight I've wrapped the egg
I’m keeping it warm
I just checked my list again
You better get over here

Snake eating fish, Smith River California

Today! said the Dragon to their self
I will reinvent my life!
No more will I scorch ponds with baby ducks
(Although the smell of instant barbecue is heavenly, and softens the wrath of gods)

No more flying low over fields
torching barns 
Taking delight as ripe maidens
run screaming to the river

No more nursing ancient griefs
No suckling at the teat of slights
souring from the dawn of time

No more pursuing
a fat and wiggly scaly grub
only to realize
it is the nub of my own tail
I’ve chased lo these many years

No! 
Today I go forth!
Warty chin up
I will fly to my own Cheer’s bar
They will shout when I enter
And by Satan’s armpit
They will remember my name!

I will sip a machiatto latte hot and steamy
Hum along as they sing songs of fire and ice 
Laugh at their jokes, tip big and slowly wink

If the courtship sparks and of course it must 
for it's the first in a millennium
we will fly pinwheeling home 

And crawl into the lair
together
Into the damp depths 
where love still yearns

I will bestow the touch, the cuddle
Yea, even my dragon lips
will know the bliss
(of which I’ve only heard tales)

My breath will join theirs
and our glow will spread from our hearts 
and be visible to the Heavens
We will ignite as one

More questions, more violence, more fear.
Morning feed & news, FB at noon, TV at night. 
I say no, no...no. No thank you. I got the memo.
I've voted, I donated. I know there's much to be done, but still.

When the slander, the falsity, the outrage is finally turned off, what is left? 
What comes into the silence of the morning? What voice remains?

The healing rains of winter have begun.

The smell of damp leaves.
Water sluicing around rocks.
What is that other faint voice?

So now,
sloughing off this old shell
my soft body oozes out to find a new home.
I go out, looking for you.

By Keith Henty

Just after 7:30pm on Thanksgiving, Mildred Snifflebottom, age 57, got a phone call that changed her life. When the phone rang, Mildred's husband, Ferdley, was out for his evening walk. He was several blocks away on his typical evening jaunt that Mildred referred to as a “sniffabout”.

Ferdley had paused for a rest at the end of a driveway where the aroma of barbecue turkey wafted. Ferdley had an extraordinarily large nose and superior olfactory abilities. He didn't mind that his neighbors referred to him as “Mr. Nose”.

Mildred had just finished the last of the cleaning and was still wearing gloves. She delicately picked up the phone. “Yessssh?” 

“Oh, Mildred, I'm so glad you answered!"

Mildred knew that voice. It belonged to her next door neighbor, Petunia Blob. They ran into each other every so often, and waved hello over the fence, but hadn't developed a friendship. 

Petunia's voice had a tremor. “It's the weirdest thing, but I'm calling from the bathroom. Jim is here with me and WE'RE BOTH STUCK IN THE BATHTUB!”

When she heard this, Mildred took a deep breath and sat down. She thought of the first day she met them, and the odd way that Jim had introduced himself, as if he was a character in a movie. “My name is Blob. James Blob.”

Holding the phone, Mildred listened as Petunia poured out her story.

It seems the Blobs had prepared a large Thanksgiving dinner. They had invited two couples to join them and both had cancelled at the last minute. Mike and Karen Bugmuffin had a toilet backing up and couldn't get away. Blanche Biglip called to say her husband, Chaps, was feeling ill.

“Oh, Petunia said, Nothing serious I hope?"

Barbara said it appeared to be the flu. Chaps was spitting up the greenest mucus she'd ever seen. “More information than I needed to hear right then”, Petunia told Mildred. “I was thickening the gravy.” Petunia said she hoped Chaps felt better and thanked Blanche for calling, and wished them both a happy Thanksgiving.

After getting the news of the cancellations, Petunia turned back to her preparations. She was already so far along it was too late to stop, or invite anyone else. She thought of giving away food, but didn't know who to call this late on the holiday.

She told Mildred she had gone ahead with dinner for six. Six large people with big appetites and it was Thanksgiving after all and there was plenty: an enormous turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet peas, and relish. Plus a pumpkin pie and a marionberry pie; both with an even brown crust.

She and Jim had sat down and ate and ate, refilling their plates again and then again. Finally they stopped, moaned and looked at each other in stupefaction. They each ate several large slices of pie. Finally, they pushed away from the table. They moved slowly in the kitchen, cramming the fridge with leftovers. 

They decided to take a bath, together. Usually they took turns, but all the food, maybe the tryptophan, had made them so sleepy and neither wanted to make the other wait.

So Petunia ran the bath, and somewhat shyly she and Jim took off their clothes and carefully squeezed in together. They relaxed and enjoyed the sensation, the first in memory, of sharing the comfort of hot water. They even kissed lightly once and Jim zoomed his tiny plastic boat in the small area of open water, jumping it over Petunia's knee.

The food and the bath had swollen them, and they were very tired. So when Jim tried to get up, he couldn't and when Petunia tried to get up, she couldn't. After sitting a minute they both tried to get up at the same time. But they couldn't and after a worried discussion they decided to call their neighbor. They had a surprisingly bit of luck, as their cell phone was right there on the toilet, within reach.

So could Mildred come over and help them out? Petunia didn't want to call 911; the thought of paramedics bursting into the bathroom made her queasy. Firemen might show up with painful tools, such as the Jaws of Life.

Mildred hesitated only a second, then said yes, she'd be right over. The hesitation was because she had never seen anyone naked in ….well, she couldn't even remember. Other than Ferdley of course. She faced the prospect with a combination of horror and fascination.  

The Blobs were sizable people and she quickly dismissed the possibility of a... a what exactly?  A menagerie? She knew that sort of thing happened in France. The French were athletic and youthful, and also liberal minded. There was such a long tradition of odd behavior there, like eating snails.

She decided to go over immediately, without Ferdley. Anyway, his practical abilities were limited and it was likely he'd get in the way. 

Mildred went to the utility closet near the water heater, pushed aside the broom and mop, and picked out the larger of two toilet plungers.

"This might be handy", she said to herself---then she had a quick moment of regret. She hadn't offered Mike Bugmuffin the use of the toilet plunger. But he was a fixer kind of guy and likely had one of his own.

She left a sticky-note for Ferdley on the mirror by the front door. He regularly paused there when coming in from a walk, checking his face for remnants of small insects, bits of pollen. The note said, “Blobs stuck in bath. Gone to help”.

The Blob's garage was open, she went in there and to the back door, and out of habit knocked. Then she remembered and went inside and walked to the bottom of the stairs. She had been upstairs in their house a few years back.

"Hellooo" she shouted up.

"Mildred, is that you?, Petunia shouted back."Come on up. We're still stuck.”

Mildred climbed the stairs and peeked around the bathroom door. She stepped in. The mirror was fogged. The shower curtain was pulled back. They were both there, in the tub.

“Oh Mildred. Thank you for coming,” said Petunia, who may have been blushing.

Mildred inadvertently looked directly at Petunia's breasts. But only for a second. Then she looked at the towels, trying to clear her mind.

What could have prepared her for this? She had a vague memory of a first aid class, tipping a plastic head back, simulating the breath of life. Or what was the advice: dial 911 first? In case of sudden loss of pressure, put your own oxygen mask on. Then help others. This called for something else.

Jim held out a thick wet arm, “Give me a hand, dear.”

Mildred was a smallish woman, without much strength in her arms. She felt some fear, but also a surge of decisiveness.

“Let me try something first,” she said. She nimbly climbed on the toilet and held the plunger high with both hands. It was directly above Jim’s balding head. He glanced upward, and said, hesitantly, “Now, wait, wait....”.

Right then Mildred brought the plunger up and then down fast and hard, baring her teeth with the exertion. The soft, dangly part of her arms flew up and then down and the soft rubber slammed and squished onto the top of Jim's head. The suction held it tight and after a pause, Mildred gave it a small yank back, noting with satisfaction that it was a snug fit.

She stepped down from the toilet. Jim’s head twisted and pulled up, his neck extending. “Ohhhh,” he moaned. Petunia stared uneasily, then she reached out and grabbed the base of the plunger handle with one hand, and Mildred’s arm with the other.

“Ok, here we go,” said Mildred, “both of you, exhale all your air out!"

Jim held his head stiffly, and Mildred braced herself as she pulled Petunia up. Jim pushed. Petunia grunted and then she stood and they all let out a trembly cheer. Petunia grabbed a towel, and wrapped herself as she stepped out. Then they both helped Jim up. Once again Mildred tried to avert her gaze and failed. She glimpsed something that resembled a hibernating animal. Petunia quickly gave him a towel. 

Petunia turned to Mildred and hugged her, saying "Wow, dang. Thank you".

"Yeah” said Jim hesitantly, “that was…..whew!” His face was deep red and he still had the wooden plunger jammed on his head. As he stepped forward, the plunger handle hit the bathroom light. There was a blue flash, the light went out. The last of the bathwater gurgled down the drain.

Petunia and Mildred's damp hug went on longer than either expected.

Finally, Petunia let go and leaned back and said cheerfully, “Well, now, how about some of that leftover pie…?”

Mulege river from a vantage point near the mission

Aging boat in museum courtyard, Mulege.

museum courtyard, Mulege

I stayed at Las Casitas in Mulege and would recommend it--it was about $25 a night. I visited the museum which is a former prison. But mainly my intention was to take the Hobie sailing in the Bahia Concepcion, about 20 miles south of Mulege. Various campsites in and around Coyote Bay. Little islands just off shore. Warm water. I went for it.

Bahia Concepcion, while sailing the Hobie to a small island

Playa Escondida, Bahia de Concepcion

These places by the water and close to the main road are heavily visited and perhaps over loved by RV folks and ramblers like me (and for good reasons).  Timing a visit: Dec.-March are the peak times for these campsites filling up. The weather varies throughout the year. I visited in November as I wanted warm water and mild temperatures without the intense heat/humidity and storms that I heard can happen June-to early Oct. I hear that spring is a great time to visit too. The desert and the water has its wonders and beauties anytime of year. Playa Burro...I sailed the Hobie over to meet some new friends camping thereOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

To see more photos from my Baja road trip, including Bahia de Concepcion, visit my gallery located here: http://www.keithhenty.com/p546377924

early morning panga in Bahia de los Angeles, Baja

Mex diary part 1: I rented out my house in Ashland Oregon, (Nov. 1 to March 11) and left Ashland Nov. 2 on a solo journey south in the Chevy van with Hobie sailing kayak, surfboards, bike and camping gear. Plan was to go surfing/sailing and explore slowly down the Baja peninsula, and best of all: sweetheart Eve would fly down to Cabo San Lucas end of December where I would meet her for 2 weeks. 

First night camped near Los Banos, CA. After hellish drive through LA, I camped in Potrero County Park east of San Diego.

Crossed into Mexico on Nov 4, at Tecate as planned. Border crossing easy—no cars in front of me; they just waved me to come across the big speed bumps and I was through. Then I parked and walked back to the office to get my tourist card.

See photo gallery of trip so far: http://www.keithhenty.com/p546377924

My camping stops since then have been San Felipe, San Felipe, Baja norte

  Gonzaga Bay

San Luis Gonzaga BaySan Luis Gonzaga Bay

Shell in water, Gonzaga bay

Road to Coco's Corner...and Coco. And his bizarre panty collection.

on the road to Coco's corners, Baja

Coco's corners, Baja with Coco and giant panty collectionCoco's corners, Baja with Coco and giant panty collection

Bahia de los Angeles

Bahia de los Angeles (Campo Archelon)

Next--on to Mulege

Messing with the time-space continuum as I awaken this blog and add photos and info that are not...linear. In other words...this isn't now, but it is a good memory.

Traveling with my daughter, Angela. 

When driving on 199 from Oregon to Crescent City, CA, Angela and I like to stop at Patrick's Creek, where it runs into the Smith River. The campground was closed in March, but we walked down to the picnic area and to the Smith River. In this spot the river is shallow and very clear and clean, offset by the moss and dark roots of the trees.

Smith RiverSmith River, Northern California

 Below: Angela with an armful, coming out of the zinnia patch...at the Sweet Cron farm near Kerby, Oregon.

Darkness is your candle.

Your boundaries are your quest.

I can explain this, but it would break

the glass cover on your heart,

and there’s no fixing that.

– Rumi

Kayaks along Bahia de Concepcion, BajaKayaks along Bahia de Concepcion, Baja

Photo: kayaks along the Bahia de Concepcion, Baja, Oct. 2015.

Getting close to activating a huge (and initially, somewhat scary) road trip: I'm leaving from Ashland, Oregon, for several months in Baja (solo!). I'm planning to cross Nov 4th at Tecate after camping at Potrero County Park. Driving a Chevy van with sailing kayak (Hobie Island) on top. First destination is Bahia de los Angeles after camping/or motel in San Quintin area. Stop for photos near Catavina. After LA Bay then south with too many options; lagoon/surf spot on Pacific side, then to Mulege and on to Loreto area for slow water time, basic camping/ possible room rental short term. My intention is to meet-chat with folks along the way, find palapa cocinas, hear advice, and improve my remedial Spanish. (and calm down...). Then another leap: in Jan. I'll consider taking the ferry from La Paz to Mazatlan, destination Nayarit-Jalisco (as my long secret dream-love is to sail the Hobie in the Bay of Banderas) for Jan and February! Best wishes.--Keith