Old Journal
Yesterday was my birthday. We were out celebrating on Saturday night with pals and therefore Sunday seemed 50% longer than a normal day, giving me more birthday for my buck. It was a great deal. I was only wretched with pain for the first half of the day, before I started to enjoy myself. I think it was worth it.
I couldn’t get a stuntwoman to perform my action-lying around moaning so I had to do it myself, muttering all the while about the exact location of the point of living in Southern Calfornia if you can’t hire a stunt-person to live out the more unpleasant moments of your life.
So what did I do with the rest of the day? I know you’re dying to know. Well, I dressed myself in a long white,
dress (empire and bias cut for you fashionistas) , put on a wig of long flaxen Eastern European person’s hair and a crown of simple wildflowers, then barefoot, I went for a walk all the way to the bottom of the garden.
I had thought to do a bit of sighing and some light pastoral cocaine but, as I sat, singing the melancholy song of the fair-haired shepherd boy who accidentally got ripped limb from limb by an unexpected combine-harvester as he slept in the meadow one day in the 17th century – before the invention of combine harvesters which was what made it unexpected, and super-melancholy for that – as I sittily sat, I spied an old book in a nearby charming copse of flowers.
Right at that moment the cocaine was beginning to hit and I dearly wished that the chance old book had been a chance ipod shuffle filled with the moving songs of a certain Canadian poet for me to weep happily to. But a book it was, of leather old and bookmark Snoopy. Wonderingly I opened the brittle, yellowed pages and read the following:
This here be the journale of a stronge-jawed, no-nonsense pioneer woman who settled in this place called Ojai in the yeare of Our Lorde 1848.
Astonished, I looked up questioningly at the trees and all the sudden woodland animals that had gathered about me with their large inky eyes, blinking wide and adorably. But they were worse than useless and so I turned the page, trembling and slightly guilty at spying on the most private thoughts of another human being, however long dead she was.
Pages 1 through 171 were mostly to do with gopher-skinning techniques, importunate cow-pokes, why didn’t lofty Mister Wilke love her, and a surprising amount of snapped shoe-lace incidents. I had no idea the progress the shoe-lace industry has made since then and we should all feel mighty grateful for the easy availability of quality shoe-laces we enjoy today.
But on page 172, my reading was arrested suddenly by the ending of the words. The ending ended with the following:
I am dying now, and full of bitter regret. I wish I’d been more flexible, I wish I’d written more, sung more, danced more. I wish I had done it with a cow-poke. But alas, it’s too late for me now. I have the consumption which will later be called TB.
But if someone should stumble this way and read these words, sometime far in the future, long after I am dust and airborne allergens, I have a message. Follow these rules and perhaps your life will be happier than mine:
Pay attention to old Native American wise-ones who tell you in broken English that you will die unhappy and alone unless you lighten up and stop taking the 19th century so seriously.
Don’t say “despise” so much, even if it makes you feel clever.
Treat yourself to a pedicure every few months.
The tail stump of a gopher makes a rich, delicious broth when boiled with one of Mrs. Knorr from down the road’s mixed herbs.
Smoke more of that stuff that grows everywhere around here.
And then there was a longish bit about … and so I die!…yadda yadda.
May 20th, 2008 at 12:49 pm
I’m impressed you did your stunts!
May 20th, 2008 at 12:50 pm
Own stunts even
May 20th, 2008 at 12:51 pm
Happy Birthday, dear! I shan’t inquire as to your age but I’m sure it’s in the low twenties somewhere. I trust your twins prepared some sort of repast suitable for your tastes and state on Sunday morning — a fry-up of some magnitude.
BTW, did pedicures exist in 1848 California? I should have thought the advice would be, “Wipe your rear end every three months, but avoid using corn cobs.”
Cheers.
May 20th, 2008 at 12:59 pm
happy birthday a day late, sugar! hell, continue to celebrate for the rest of this week! *raising my afternoon cocktail in your honor* xoxox
May 20th, 2008 at 1:12 pm
Kim, I think I defied death by the narrowest of squeaks and a timely gallon of orange juice. And a perfectly executed back-flip of course.
Rand, no. Sunday morning saw me wincing my way through the prep of our usual Sunday pancake breakfast. Hubby hurt too and was not seen til 11am, but the girls were so lovely with their homemade cards and jewels for me, it really was a lovely morning – searing pain aside.
Savannah, thank you, m’darling! A wee hair of the dog might suit me myself this afternoon. Only it wasn’t a dog that bit me, it was a savage slavering wolf.
May 20th, 2008 at 2:05 pm
How blessed you are that a wise old voice from beyond the grave gives you wise old advice for your birthday. Some have to make do with cuff links and fruit and stuff. Your Indian name is Sam-who-reads-with-the-animals.
May 20th, 2008 at 2:19 pm
Happy birthday. You can’t beat that pastoral cocaine. So much better than the mass produced muck you get elsewhere.
May 20th, 2008 at 3:12 pm
Nobody should underestimate the importance of gopher-skinning. It’s what made America great.
Concerning pedicures, I met my old lover last week, and she’d had a pedicure, which made both of us feel good, but probably erred more on the side of the recipient than the ex-lover (and slightly drunk) toenail-inspector.
Sam, I hug you from afar for your birthday, and I hope to do so in person the next time you grace our shores, just as I had the honour to do during the blog-drunk-party-award-thing. You are the living embodiment of why this internet thing was worthwhile for all of us.
May 20th, 2008 at 3:57 pm
Well, Happy Birthday!
I covet the white dress. I’m sure I’d feel all ethereal and nymph like. Which of course, in real life, I am anyway.
May 20th, 2008 at 4:02 pm
Happy belated birthday, Sam. May the year ahead bless you with love, peace and prosperity.
And the ocassional pedicure!
May 20th, 2008 at 4:52 pm
I’m afraid that pastoral powder causes me to experience early friss–oops.
May 20th, 2008 at 4:56 pm
Happy belated birthday. I find the only way to celebrate a birthday these days is to be hungover and mildly tipsy for the whole day, or even week.
May 20th, 2008 at 8:03 pm
Nanas, I hate to sound like a churl but some birthdays there are so many wise old voices from the grave with their wise old advice that I despair. And they don’t always agree so the shouting and hair-pulling and walking-stick-thrashings among them can get quite alarming.
Major, I hear you. For me it’s Kerrygold marching powder up the nose every time. You can feel the love and artisan skill that went into it. It’s cut with finely ground dessicated lamb tears I hear, and you can tell. It makes your nose weep.
Bock, you’re right on about the gopher-skinning although pioneer hat-fashions did suffer for a while in the great raccoon shortage of the 1850s when gopherskin hats were all you could get. The stumpy little tails didn’t cover the ears worth a dam and many ears were frostbitten right off. But do tell though about your footerings with the ex-lover! Who was the tickler and who was the ticklee? Also, you have me all of a blush with your sweetness!
Sugar Britches, cheers, m’dear! Nymphing is such hard work though. I heard you have to get weekly Brazilians in order to maintain a fully nymphly appearance. I’d sooner keep some hair and be a plain old wood-sprite.
Medbh, may it bless us all with these fabby things. x
Ruben, friss-oops can happen to the best of us. Don’t feel bad, my friend.
Eryl, tipsy living sounds attractive. It sounds like it’s a lifestyle worthy of its own magazine.
May 20th, 2008 at 9:11 pm
You are lucky the 10:15 VW micro-bus to San Francisco didn’t pull up right there and then and a bunch of dudes wearing sandals and chattering about signs haul you on board. I’d never risk flowers in my hair in your neck of the garden.
Oh, yeah. Happy birthday and all that. You’ve travelled right around the sun. And it only took a year. Well done! Well done!
May 21st, 2008 at 4:22 am
Happy birthday Sam. Ease up on the exercise though.
May 21st, 2008 at 5:24 am
Happy Birthday Sam.
May 21st, 2008 at 10:30 am
I would say Happy Birthday, except now I’m late… Very late, in fact. Boo.
Although my calendar says 20th May (which means your Birthday on this side of the pond was yesterday and also means I’m not *too* late), according to the dates on your blog, your Birthday confusingly wasn’t yesterday – even though, here, it was – it was actually the day before yesterday, instead. This means I’m either very late, or very confused. Or both, I can’t decide.
So, Very Happy Un-Birthday! Hope your day is happy and special.
Cx
May 21st, 2008 at 11:00 am
Sneezy, I achieved staying alive for a whole other year! This required that I feed myself every day and avoid unsafe practices. That’s a lot of work! It’s exhausting. I don’t know if I’ll make it to 35.
Sniffly, don’t worry I walked very slowly. The hurty hurty day demanded it.
Nonny, cheers!
Claire, thanks, toots. There is something up with my site’s clock – it’s a halfish day ahead. Sunday was the birthday day. Now wait, was it? I’m confused too.
May 21st, 2008 at 3:42 pm
I hope this year will be your best ever. That’s good advice – we should all lighten up and people like you help.
May 21st, 2008 at 6:38 pm
Awww Geez! Here I am late again. Well I’ve been told the F in BrianF stands for Fashionably Late so I guess it figures.
HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY DAY Sam!!!!!
May 21st, 2008 at 11:30 pm
Pat, thank-you sweet Pat, there’s disaster all over the world this week. It really brings it home how vulnerable and fragile life is. We need to grab of it what we can before it all turns to shit. That’s my philos, for this week anyhow.
Brianf, you are the height of fashionably late, toots! Thanks!
May 22nd, 2008 at 2:55 am
Eeep! Happy belated birthday darling. I’m sure it was a lovely day and I hope you had a ball.
Muchio kissios
FMC
XXXXXXXX
May 22nd, 2008 at 4:20 pm
haaaaaaaappy birthday! i’ll drink a glass of something in your honor tonight. because i’m very glad you were born. and then kept living.
May 24th, 2008 at 4:01 am
Happy Birthday, Sam. My other half’s birthday was on the 18th and he is a typical bull, stubborn but steadfast. Love your blog, awesome – you are so bloody clever with words!
May 24th, 2008 at 11:43 pm
Cheers, ladies!
May 24th, 2008 at 11:44 pm
And happy birthday to your other half, Shebah!