Here in California there are two main routes to get from the northern part of state to the southern tip. There’s the straight and boring Interstate 5 which is generally filled with semis and cars driving much too fast and there’s the 101 that meanders through the Salinas Valley and then along the coast. The coastal route is, of course, the slower way to go but we generally make it a two day drive. Stop along the coast and then hit LA midday to avoid the traffic.

However this has been an amazing year for the Central Valley. There has been so much snow in the Southern Sierra and rain in the valley that a lake not seen for decades has reappeared.

The artist Wayne Thiebaud painted many pictures of the Central Valley.

I must admit that I’ve never seen that much color in the valley but we’ll see. Generally the only thing that breaks the monotony of mile after mile of flat, dry farmland is the feed lot at Harris Ranch. Cows in holding pens waiting for the slaughterhouse. Thousands of cows mooing pathetically. Ugh.

And then there’s the 405 across LA. There are parts of Los Angeles that are beautiful. Perhaps even heavenly but this is generally the view you get. For two hours on a good day.

Anyway – I’m hoping to see what Thiebaud saw on our drive tomorrow but we’ll see!

I haven’t much to say today because I’ve been busy cloud dancing, at least in my mind. To me, it’s far healthier than watching the news.

This year Winter rarely took a break to give us a peak at Spring. Selfish old Winter just held on and on and I’m glad that he did. Here in California we needed the water and we needed the cool temps to stay around and slow the thaw of all that snow in the mountains.

Some afternoons there are a thousand things I should be doing but the clouds are so bewitching that often the tasks of the day must line up and wait.

I suppose Miss Summer will arrive by and by. Probably in September. Until then I must remember not to stare up at the clouds.

My cousin has lived his entire life in a tiny town in Massachusetts. He’d only been out of that state a few times before he came to visit us in California. At the time (a dozen years ago) I enjoyed giving folks tours of San Francisco. The first day, we would drive over Bay Bridge, have tea at the Japanese Tea Gardens, lunch at the Cliff House and then drive over the Golden Gate Bridge to end the day in Sausalito.

On the second day we would take the BART to the Powell Street station and grab a trolley over the steep hills to Fisherman’s Wharf.

On the second day of my cousin’s visit he confessed that he really wanted to see the Haight Ashbury district instead of Fisherman’s Wharf. I could have told him that area’s not what it was back in the hippie days of yore but I figured he probably just wanted to tell his buddies back home that he’d been there.

We had to take a city bus that passed through many iconic SF neighborhoods all filled with people going about their business on a sunny day. After several blocks, my cousin turned to me and asked “Where are all the gays?” I guess he thought that there were no straight people left in San Francisco and that gay men dressed like this every day.

He certainly didn’t mean it in any way negative. If there’s one person on earth who doesn’t judge others, it’s my cousin. He’s spent too much of his life branded as hopeless to ever judge another human being. He’d just gotten the idea from the media that San Francisco was a human zoo filled with zoned-out hippies and flaming drag queens roaming the streets for the amusement of out of town visitors. Instead he saw businessmen in suits and families out and about. Even a straight couple here and there holding hands.

I can understand my cousin’s misconceptions but I can’t understand politicians who should know better promoting the conspiracy theory that drag queens are out to indoctrinate the children of America. Drag queens have been around for a long long time and except for the most radical right wing evangelicals, politicians haven’t put them in jeopardy for the sake of sound bite on Fox News. Until now.

The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence were recently uninvited from an award ceremony meant to honor their charitable work. The reason? Influential people complained that they mocked the Catholic Church. Really? Sister Anita Blowjob and Sister Gladass? Nooo. Say it ain’t so. Here’s the thing, this group was founded in 1979 at a time when the Catholic Church shunned gays and people with AIDS. They were all going to hell. I volunteered for Make-a-Wish around that time and have seen first hand how the parents of children with AIDS … through no fault of their own … were treated by churches and communities. So sign me up Sister Irma Geddon and Sister Gard N O’Pansies. I’ll be Sister Know P’nis but Who Cares.

By the way, groups of Catholic nuns familiar with the work of the Sisters spoke up and now they will get their reward and an apology from the pansy asses who uninvited them.

I have to admit that I’ve been depressed lately. Nothing personal. Just the general state of the world. So when a lovely lady I’ve had the pleasure of knowing for many years posted this video of the students at her middle school (I believe she is the vice principal), my hope level went through the roof.

I hope these kids know how lucky they are! My junior high school days were more like prison. Enjoy! And I dare you not to smile.

Flowers, candy and breakfast in bed … well, they’re all very well and good but I prefer a handmade card! Believe it or not, the artist of the above card is only twelve years old! Miss Audrey Gould, artist, actress, dancer, and just about anything she sets her mind to be.

This is a bittersweet day for those of us who’ve lost mothers over the past few years. Whether or not you were close to your mother, it’s like losing an anchor.

There’s an event pavilion on the slopes of Mt. Diablo about forty-five minutes from my house.

You can either pay extra and sit under the canopy or bring a blanket and sit under the stars. I’ve done both and prefer to spread out on the grass and take my chances with the mosquitos. The sound is the same and maybe even better.

I don’t know how many concerts I’ve seen at the Concord Pavilion over the years but without a doubt, this guy and this song made the biggest impression on me.

For one thing, Lightfoot had a mini-orchestra on stage behind him and when they ignited, we were all on that doomed ship, thrown about in the merciless waves and counting the last moments of our lives.

The other song that electrified the crowd that night was “Canadian Railroad Trilogy.” It tells the story of the men who built the railroads across Canada, the men now “too silent to be real.” But also of the “green dark forests” that covered the wilderness “long before the white man and long before the wheel”… also too silent to be real. It felt like, in the dark hills surrounding us, druids watched and wept.

He’s gone, dammit. Another chunk of my soul just chipped away. He wasn’t a young man (84) but then, like Leonard Cohen and so many of the legendary poet/folksingers, he never seemed like a young man. They came to earth as old souls, flawed old souls who made mistakes just like the rest of us but were able to confess in word and song.

Fella, it’s been good ta know ya!