Finding Your Happy Place

What do you do when your Big Trip to India has been thwarted for the second time?
You head to your Happy Place, that's what you do.
Ask someone where their happy place is and they might say, "Oh, I don't know, in my kitchen, with a nice cup of coffee," and that answer would be bullshit. Your happy place shouldn't be in your house or even near it. It should be within reasonable striking distance, by car.
So after hearing for the second time that my dreams of riding an elephant across the Punjab would again be put on hold, I went for the next best thing. My Happy Place (HP) which is unquestionably San Francisco. My clunky toyota Camry made it the 500 miles or so up the 5, pointed straight for the Bay Area - a place I can always feel the NOW.

More specifically my HP is the Wild Side West, a bar in Bernal Heights where I used to go and spend long hours dreaming of the future I am now living. The Wild Side is a lesbian bar, which is perfect as an HP. There are no barflys stuck to sticky counters asking "What brings you here?" But more of a 'Cheers for Woman' atmosphere, where no one knows your name and nobody cares. The girls behind the bar are surly, just the way I like them, and the back patio is someplace I could see myself being buried, which I guess I have been close to a few times already.
The whole India Drama has been lessened by the awareness that The Wild Side is consistent, it's (usually) always open, the price is cheap (comparatively), they speak the same language, and I don't need a special visa to get in. When in doubt, always head to your Happy Place.
Where is yours?

Hummel Vision observation # 1 - Out of the Closet

I recently discovered my prom dress languishing in the back of a closet. Dusty but intact, the little black dress got me thinking about one of my obsessions called 'Hummel Vision' or the inability to give something away that we believe has some kind of Nostalgic Value. The prom dress must stay, Hummel Vision tells us, even though I couldn't fit my left thigh into its taffeta torso.
There's also a little black jacket that goes with the dress, one that looks like it was made for a child. Did I really fit into this ensemble at one time? And wouldn't I rather get rid of the dress then face the fact that I have gained like, a million pounds since I was a senior in high school?
I can't, I've got Hummel Vision.

'Hummel Vision' got its name from the tribe of Hummels I inherited from my father, the little figurines that I can't seem to give away, sell, or otherwise dispose of. My dad loved those Hummels and now so too shall I. 'Hummel Vision' happens when we place some kind of mythic value on objects, rather than actions, work ethics, or love and other important things that should take precedence over mere things.

But that's not how we're hard wired, is it?

The little black prom dress was in the pile of 'give aways' until I swooped it up and put it back in the closet where it belongs. I got a better hanger for it and covered it in one of those plastic clothing protectors, the kind for special clothes. The prom dress is there to remind me that life has its cycles, that it moves in one direction, always forward. The dress will continue to sit in the closet until I either A. leave the known world, or B. find the courage to get rid it.

I can already guess which one it's gonna be.

Happy Chinese New Year!

The Year of the Ox comes at a perfect time. 2009 and beyond will go down in history as the time in which the American people (and the World) learned how to just say 'No.'

We've been on a National/International spending spree for so many years that we're lost if we're not buying things. For some of us, to stop shopping cold turkey is more difficult than quiting smoking. A good activity to keep us busy? Work. The Ox represents strength and tenacity, hard work and dedication; exactly what this planet needs right now. You can't picture the ox out there using an American Express card to purchase more superflous stuff, like say the monkey or the rat does, now can you?

2009 = Work hard, buy what you need, recycle, purchase used items when you can, be nice, good luck.
Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Congratulations America!

Congratulations America, you've done well!
On this Innuagural Day Eve America has shown the world, and ourselves, that we still have some smarts left in us.

America: It's a Good Place to Be Again

The Claudia Report

Dear James,

This is Claudia writing to you from "lynn's" computer. I refuse to call her mom because I am at least seventy years older than she is.

I would first like to thank you and bunny kitty for the wonderful doggy snack and come clean about something before "she" tells you about it.
First off, it wasn't my fault. When she opened your package she ooohed and aaahed before setting it down on a small, nose height table and jetting off to an egg nog party down the street. So what was I supposed to think? I saw the package with the gingerbread-dog cookie in it, I saw my name on it, and I smelled how good it would taste. She left, and I sprang as fast as my old hips would let me.
So I ate it, I ate the whole cookie including the plastic. It's christmas, I thought. Why not? I did leave the little red tag that said 'from Cosmo Bunny Kitty' intact and that's what ultimately got me in trouble.
I should have eaten that too.
When she got home (probably drunk) she started in on "Oh my god, how could you? That was for Christmas day!!"
How am I supposed to know when Christmas day is? She's been playing that damn Charlie Brown music for at least a month.
I THOUGHT IT WAS CHRISTMAS! So she's yelling at me about being a 'naughty piggy' and calling me "Little Chrissy" like that John Water's film with the girl who loves sugar? So anyway, I didn't mean it in a bad way, and I sure didn't mean to eat the whole thing in one sitting. I couldn't help myself, you know? So if she asks, tell her it was from you guys FOR ME and not for her perfect little idea of christmas. At least somebody got me a present!

So thank you very much for thinking of me at this special time of baby jesus' birthday. How's Austin? Say hello to Francois, and all the kitties: Emma, Sophie, Skank, and Cosmo bunny kitty for me. I love the holidays and the holidays love us! Just please tell 'her' to back off the Little Chrissy jokes, Ok?

merry christmas and happy new year!
love,
Claudia M. Klopfer

Snow Days

Winter is here!

In the days before the official 'Winter Solstice,' Running Springs recieves a hefty dose of snow.
"Just like the old days," was heard more than once around the post office, in the bank, and at Little Jensen's.
In the Bus Stop Coffee House people blew on hot drinks, watching the snow fall from inside fogged up windows.

Across the snowy valley, Mt. Baldy looks like Mt. Everest and visions of sugarplums are dancing through everyone's heads. It's amazing to think that just a few months ago we were so worried about the dry winds of autumn and now here we are shoveling bus loads of snow. For the first time since I can remember, the school district called school for 5 whole days, 5 WHOLE DAYS! before the official holiday break began.



The amazing part of a snow day is how it takes you down a notch, how it makes everyone pay a little more atttention to nature. Watching it snow may be the ultimate in meditative practices. To be still and not react to it, to just enjoy it for it's beauty, that's the trick of a snow day.

Why Hello Kitty Matters

She doesn't even have a mouth! Maybe that's her secret.

In the late 1970's you couldn't cross the street without running over this little white... toy? She's more than a toy, she's a cultural icon! Soft, round, mouthless, a jaunty red bow, and always put together, she has embodied a certain idea of 'cheek' since her stateside beginings in 1976, and I have loved her ever since.

I remember that when my grandma would come to visit us from New Jersey she and I had a special ritual. My mother would drop us off at the mall formally known as Central City in beautiful downtown San Bernardino, and my grandma and I would go straight to the Sanrio store. Like entering another world, the world of Hello Kitty and Her Stationary Factory, you could practically taste the place.
Once there, I proceded to touch and smell every single object in the rows and rows of kitten paraphenalia. I loved the pink smelling erasers, the little note pads perfect for my then tiny fingers, the mini pencils, and the red plastic tissue holder purse that I persuaded my grandma to buy for me. I didn't realize until much, much later the relationship between Hello Kitty and her creators in Japan. How everything about her is Japanese, from her shyness, her size, her work ethic, to her sense of honor and duty. Maybe I'm reading more into it then there really is, maybe not. Hello Kitty came to America about the same time Toyota cars did and we all know that was a good trade for the U.S.A., right?



For some of us, Hello Kitty is as important as...baseball cards. Hello Kitty was the girl version of the obsessive trading of sports cards and at least her stuff was useful. Cabbage Patch kids? Forget about it. For a young girl growing up in California in the 70's, Hello Kitty called across the oceans to me in a way that not many other toys did or could. There is a certain amount of comfort in her beady eyes and soft paws. Yes, there is also a certain overkill to the Sanrio stores that now pepper every mall, but who cares! That excess seems like small pickens now that we see what real 'economic crisis' means. You can't blame this one on the Kitty!



Sometimes I call on my "Inner Hello Kitty" when I see something just as cute that hits the same grandma nostalgia button. Here we see the 'Catskelly' by Indigenous Plush, almost an X-ray version of the Kitty herself, and my crafter friends and their super cute felt lollipops I bought for Xmas gifts.
I wonder if my grandma ever knew how much those trips to the Sanrio store meant to (one of) her favorite little grandchildren? Or, how I would treasure those memories forever?
I sure hope so.