Category: Lifestyle

After spending seven years with us, Rocky died yesterday. Of course, we all cried, hugged and most importantly, checked in with each other on a heightened level it seems only death can bring on.

All three of us had a different but satisfyingly close kinship with this small ‘satin’ rabbit, known for their soft fur. Unfortunately, this breed often falls victim to osteodystrophy as Rocky surcumb to in the end.

It was such a delight to hold this little guy because it always felt like a tiny baby looking up at you. We’ll all miss him.

For seven years, the only sound Rocky made was chewing, moving around and on rare occasions, thumping with his hind legs. However, JoAn was with Rocky when he died and says he gave out an erie squeal just before taking two last gasps of air.

Rocky was a gift to Ellie on her 6th birthday, a promise I made her when she was two and asking for a pet. Retrieved from the Burbank Animal shelter, he was already named because he fought with other rabbits and was cagged alone.

Rocky added tons of love to an household welcoming to all the love it can receive. Every visitor, especially children wanted to see, pet, or hold the ‘Rockmeister’.

Thanks for the life you shared with us Rocky!

This wonderful, precious commodity we call time seems to take on changes once you’re not required to go to work.

Calling it free time seems strange given the fact that you have more time to spend money. I’ve challenged myself a few times to go a whole day without spending any money.

I accomplished this only once and I have to give the credit to not feeling well and napping almost all day.

Reading my third book in as many weeks and have tried a few new eateries. Garage is well organized and Rocky, our rabbit likes the extra attention.

The two recent earthquakes we’re given my full attention but I’m afraid I was a frozen spectator. Thinking about doing some extra preparation work in this area.

JoAn and I attended a play yesterday and I’ve mulled it over for 24 hours….all I can come up with is the it was 90 minutes of my attention uninterrupted. We clap, left but didn’t talk about it too much. Oh well, we tried.

Looking forward to a road trip up the coast to Big Sur. We’ve rented a goat farm for 4 days. I’ll file a complete report. Cheers!

I just walked by the police station and just kept walking while I glanced over there

just in case he was watching

I know the dispatcher, Sgt., the captain, and the chief of police.

But just kept walking. I was on my way on walk the beach with a friend and it just wasn’t worth it.

Just two minutes earlier I was walking west on Pearl Street. As I approached a man from with a backpack, hood, headphones, a cell phone in his hand and as he walked I approached from behind them. The sun casting a shadow in front of me and about the time I got behind him and was trying to pass on the left, he took his next step to the left and as I was even with them and I said “Good morning”, he purposely tripped me. I couldn’t believe it.

I turned around to look him in the face and said “I say Good Morning and you trip me, what the fuck.” He looked surprised and serious and said “Don’t come up on me like that.” I turned and walked, a bit infuriated. I walked thinking after having looked him in the eyes that it was early morning and he was already having a bad day.

My day was starting and I felt determined not to let this aggression fuck up. I had walk only a short distance and was on the opposite side of the street from the campus police station, I thought about walking over in reporting the incident, but did not. He was already having a bad day and I was going to have a great one and let this go. The man could have been a homeless vet with PTSD for all I knew.

The longer the day went be, the better I felt about my decision.

Later at home I shared the incident with my wife and 13 year old daughter. They were both ready to track down the offender and do what I don’t know but their fearless protective stance was priceless.

By only following British politics from a sofa on an IPad, I was caught off guard today watching Theresa May’s exit speech (half-ass pun).

The prime minister teared up as she finished her speech…I also teared up as she said…”the country I love”…

Does this kind of ‘contagious semi-weeping’ come from a sense that I believe her and I too love my country but wonder if our leader can honestly say that?

Or ..is it being unfair to think that my love for my country is somehow more ‘real’ than of those folks following a more conservative, isolationist path?

I’ve been quite busy with art projects and exciting things happening at the college. However, as much as I try…blogging has fallen by the wayside.

I’m proud of my work ethic… I’ll make an extra effort to apply this ambition to my blog(s).

My other blog is about using my Pixel 3 camera: tommiltonpeters.com

Too often I’ve poked fun at Ellie’s assessment of the week we spent in Paris in 2014. All she claimed to remember was an afternoon at Luxembourg Park.

After just returning from a week in Michigan visiting family and friends…I now think I understand what Ellie was expressing about not just Paris, but traveling in general.

Unlike at home, when traveling there seems to be an obsession about two things:

• What we may have missed
• What are we doing next

Ellie was hyper focused in the present at that amazing park. Not what we missed or needed next…the present moment was being ‘lived fully’!

At home there doesn’t appear to be any major pressure to find these ‘moments’ like there is in a week long stay away from home.

Do you have any ideas or advice for travelers on living in the moment, not looking constantly behind and ahead?

Treated myself for my belated 70th birthday!

HAPPY DRIVER:)

Morning stroll to the shoreline was accented by a swift offshore breeze that produces a mist on top of the waves….that’s magical.

I’m grateful and blessed to live where we live, what I do for a living, and who I share it with.

Famous by Naomi Shihab Nye

The river is famous to the fish.   The loud voice is famous to silence,  which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so.   The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds  watching him from the birdhouse.   The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.   The idea you carry close to your bosom is famous to your bosom.   The boot is famous to the earth, more famous than the dress shoe,  which is famous only to floors.   The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it  and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.   I want to be famous to shuffling men who smile while crossing streets,  sticky children in grocery lines,  famous as the one who smiled back.   I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,  or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,  but because it never forgot what it could do.

Naomi Shihab Nye wrote this poem in 1952. A time when ‘the famous’ were in the newspaper, encyclopedias and on radio and television.

By the time I was 8 years old in 1957, I was aware of ‘the famous’ from Walt Disney to George Washington. (Thanks to Shirley Temple or they would have all been males)

Upon reaching my teens, ‘the famous’ for me spread to Fidel Castro, The Beatles and John F. Kennedy.

In my early adult years, ‘the famous’ artists, photographers, writers and film directors took center stage and has remained a constant.

Now, only ten days from turning 70, I can appreciate discovering this poem. Thanks to a daily habit of scanning the New York Times.

I’ve painted, photographed, self-published a memoir and some YouTube videos.

However, this poem helped me ground myself in the smile exchange with passing strangers on my daily walks.

Famous…re-defined….thank you Naomi Shihab Nye

Yesterday was what is called Institutional Flex Day at Santa Monica College. The campus is closed to students because campus administrators, faculty and classified staff spend the day together.

Dr. Jeffery, our college president, spoke on equity and seemed near tears when speaking about hate crimes. Nate Donahue, our academic senate president, spoke on LBGTQ+ issues passionately.

I stood behind our Faculty Association table proudly thinking… I’m connected with both of these campus leaders, AND a multitude of people at SMC. Truly blessed with many as friends and colleagues.

All day long I smiled, waved, shook hands with these fine colleagues….and touched shoulders and hugged affectionately my closest friends.

It’s 5:57am the day after as I write this blog. Fighting back tears as I reflect on an incredible part of my life I never want to take for granted.