Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 10 Comments

Strudel and a Wheelbarrow

That’s what the Bohemian wants for his birthday. Which is today.

The wheelbarrow is already here and neatly parked in the work shed (no more hauling garden weeds in 5 gallon buckets).

And it looks like I’ll be wrestling with puff pastry, a cooking medium with which I have no experience. I’ve put in minimal time with a rolling-pin and am opting to try the puff pastry route in an attempt to fulfill the Bohemian’s wish for some b-day apple strudel.

photo courtesy of Michela Simoncini
photo courtesy of Michela Simoncini

It’s 3am on this auspicious day, and the Bohemian and I both stir from sleep. We are tucked in our latest experiment, having swapped our typical ‘sides’ of the bed for the night. Neither of us really cares for the ‘wall side’ of our corner bed zone, and in this moment, it’s where the Bohemian rests.

I am the first to wish him happy birthday. I ask him how he’s sleeping.

“This is not my side, Jess.” His tone deadpan.

I smile. “Really?”

“I had weird dreams. Do you have weird dreams over here?”

“Ahh. I see you’re going for the dreaming tactic. Very creative strategy for building a case against the wall side.” I’m still grinning.

It is his birthday, after all. I offer to trade. Crawl over and plant my pillow down in the strange dreamland territory, wall and all.

But now I can’t go back to sleep. I’m thinking pastries at this early hour, hoping it doesn’t turn into a birthday baking nightmare.

We’ve got mangos from the tree in our freezer. Or I could buy apples. I ask in the darkness, what kind of strudel does he want?

He’s still awake.  And like a true birthday boy, he does not hold back.

“Well, my mom, she’s been making two kinds of strudel…” (Nice one, Bohemian).

“Two strudels? Really?” Again I’m smiling.

“Yep, two strudels.” He’s smiling too.

Yeah well, we’ll be lucky if this American can get one strudel out of the oven intact.

I keep my thoughts to myself.  Cuddle up closer.  Switch the subject.

“So what’s your birthday wish for this year?”

His toes brush my ankles under the covers. “Hmmm…good dreams.”

I love this profoundly simple man.

And what does he want for his thirty-fifth birthday? I better get the wish list straight because it’s some of life’s best:

A wheelbarrow and homemade strudel. Good dreams and dibs on the right side of the bed.

photo courtesy of Kevin Gessner
photo courtesy of Kevin Gessner
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Leaving Our Mark

Trips to the west side of our island are like travels to a different land.

We live north. Wet, lush, green. Cross west and it’s dry, hot and red.

On this particular excursion – Jeb, the Bohemian and I – we slow down the day in observation mode. Break out of the routine. In our unfamiliar environment, we get fresh perspectives.

We see parachuters spiraling in the sky. Watch 20 skateboarding teenagers take over an entire street with ollies. The Bohemian gives blood.

We just miss the chaos of a store-wide evacuation when a fire breaks out near a local big-box store. (Newspaper reports claim that shoppers were still trying to purchase their merchandise as the flames came within 100 feet of the building).

We discover a used book store with countless stacks to peruse for days. We even drive past a cemetery and see diggers lining the new grave with palm fronds in preparation for a coffin.

We stop by a beach that, long ago, was once a dump site. Red dirt and black sand.  The beach still bears the garbage. Rusting metal and the tiniest shards of glass. Just aross the dirt road is the Japanese cemetery overgrown with weeds.

It’s good to be reminded. These days spiraling out, moment by moment. How do we want to live them? How many moments do we get? How do we want to leave our mark, if we want to leave one at all?

Today I’m thinking tread lightly. Live deeply. Be grateful….And share the Love.

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2013-4-17rusted_ocean

2013-04-17tombstone

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Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 1 Comment

For What It’s Worth

it’s thoughts that wake you
those uninvited guests
dropping by
during dreamtime
bearing rousing lists
taxes
insurance
accounts

they are the unexpected dinner guests
that came too early
and won’t stop talking
and they want you to think
they are all
important

you’re feeling taxed
and understanding
nothing
is really
insured
living
is your accounting

those dreamtime crashers
may have stirred you
but it’s poetry that’s worth getting up for

what matters is that cheddar-colored crescent
hanging
just outside your window
tangled with the clouds

escort those unsolicited
callers
to the door
though they’ll leave
their party favors
brightly packaged and empty
inside

invite the moon into your dwelling
and your dreams
this is your accounting
for all
of what it’s worth

photo courtesy of HA! Designs
photo courtesy of HA! Designs