Sunday Reflection Quote, 10/25/15

we-are-our-choices-J-P-Sartre

Wine Lines, Updated 10/21/15

Me and Wine Barrels Oak Farm

Similar to “Quotes From the Felt,” I’ve been recording lines said while out wine tasting.  As the day goes on, conversations can get rather saucy.  Lots of innuendo, double entendre, and shenanigans.  Consider yourself warned…

October 17, 2015 to Macchia, D’Art, and Oak Farm Vineyards:

  • Hold on, I have a buckle up my butt (sitting in the middle of the back seat)
  • No!  I don’t know what a Yeti 110 is (brother-sister)
  • You’ll see a whole new level of fury if you…(mother-son convo)
  • I have a summer and a winter pair of windshield wipers.  WTF, of course you do!
  • I’ll be licking that off later
  • Pour some brownie on me
  • I should’ve brought it to bring it
  • Everything’s better with sea salt
  • That’s a party in your mouth, but that one’s a high school dance
  • I you was a bag of chips, you’d be a bag of Frito’s or pork rinds
  • Omg, this thingy has a knob!
  • If I have to repeat this tomorrow, I’m going to bed now
  • When a dog is looking in your eyes, it’s giving you an endorphine bath
  • Riddle me this
  • I have a bush and I know how to use it
  • I have a knob in back, can you turn it on?
  • Oh sheep!
  • That’s naked pool party wine
  • You had us at naked
  • Oh no, he’s a pervert, he’d probably join you
  • It’s like the Beatles walking picture.  Umm, yeah, Abby Road.  No, the Beatles walking picture.  Abby Road.
  • Take the topper off and let me have more
  • You bread blocker!
  • Do they have a slurred smile?
  • I didn’t even get to touch the remote until 2009
  • If I was Gene Simmons, I’d get so much out of this glass
  • It’s not a walk of shame, it’s a stroll of success!
  • That’s not my cheese
  • Shove that on your pie hole
  • I did the pre, but not the thee
  • They have room to have huge whatever
  • Look, I’m a cone head!  That’s so in right now
  • That’s worth a magazine circle

Older…

  • I’d rather have a bottle in front of me, than a frontal lobotomy.
  • You know you drank too much wine when you’re teeth are purple.
  • When I die, I want to wake up in Rhone.
  • That’s missing another world (Chardonnay w/out oak)
  • What is it?  It’s a Chardonnay fortified with Everclear (Chardono).  It’s a mind eraser.  Do I want to go there? Yes.
  • Well, it’s a romance language (Italian)
  • Port tastes like liquid candy.  That’d be a good porn name.
  • I just got a cool breeze where I shouldn’t.
  • If he wants you to make tortillas in the morning, then we have a problem.
  • What are you doing? Get your hand off my button!!
  • Remember what you had in your mouth.
  • Go wash your Smurf hand.
  • After 6 beers you’re full.
  • That’s moanable!
  • Look at that crack pipe on that bottle of wine!  I wish I had my cigar lighter.
  • Do you need sunscreen because that was so tannini?  My knees don’t tan.
  • My falsies almost flew out!
  • We have lays in the car, do you want one?
  • Don’t go sticking your nose in the backside, unless you’re a member.
  • Better than wicker.
  • Ed vs head
  • I felt them to see if they were real.
  • Quick, make it go up!  (window)
  • You can take the boy out of the country, but not the country out of the boy.
  • Alejandro would be Lady Gaga; Fernando would be Allah
  • That’s the first snort of the day.
  • Are you from Texas?  No.  Aren’t you wearing a cowboy hat? Umm, no, it’s a fedora.
  • Pinky vs. Piggy Toe
  • Would you just push out and be done with it. (door)
  • Would you trim before you crop that shit? (pic for IG)

This list is as of October 20, 2015.  I’ll update periodically and repost.

Sunday Reflection Quote, 10/11/15

images

Sunday reflection quote…I was thrown a big curveball the Friday before last, which sent me into a slight tailspin for a few days. However, all the work I’ve done “to shape my tools” lead to a quicker recovery.

This journey is no picnic. Accepting what is, knowing this too shall pass, giving myself permission to fail, and finding joy in the simple things has proven to be a solid approach time and again.

I continue to assert boundaries, prioritize my time, and focus on the present moment. My mind, heart, and spirit have been reset. I am thankful and look forward to the journey ahead, wherever the path may lead.

#marshallmcluhan #sunday #reflection #quote #mindfulness #goals #priorities #tools #shape #becoming #behold #boundaries #time #choices #shift #reset #trigger #grief #thistooshallpass #contentment #communicate #assertive #keeponkeepingon #myownstory

Heart Twice Scarred

kimono

Optimistic anticipation of a new school year quickly diminished as “round eye” and “half breed” flowed through the room in a wave of whispers.  The cruel words of elementary aged children were an unsolicited voice reminding my mother, Kazumi, she didn’t belong and wasn’t welcome.

Mom’s childhood began in 1948, when she resided in Tokyo and Nagoya, Japan.  However, Japan wasn’t truly a home.  She wished the unrelenting cruelty of children and the judging eyes of adults could be escaped.  While innocently playing in front of her house, rocks were thrown at her.  The culprits would yell, “Yankee go home!  Go home, you Yankee!”  She also overheard such phrases from adults, as they guided their children in the opposite direction.  Mom didn’t understand what she had done to instigate such hostility; her heart scarred with the confusion of intolerance.

Kazumi was the first child born to Saku Mori and Paul Rasmussen. Paul met Saku when he was stationed in Tokyo, as a cook in the Army.  Like most soldiers, he would visit a seamstress for repairs on his uniform or to sew on patches.  Saku’s modest beauty caught Paul’s eye, so she was the seamstress he frequently sought.  Those visits quickly developed into a courtship, which resulted in three children: Kazumi, Lena, and Henry.  Unfortunately, since they were not 100% Japanese, the children were considered and treated as outcasts.  Due to the span in their age, mom was the only one who experienced the brunt of prejudice first hand.

Having a Japanese mother and an American father seven years after the attack on Pearl Harbor created a silent purgatory for Kazumi.  She was caught between two distinct cultures, unable to unlock her hurt and confusion from this intangible tug-of-war.  Mom’s childhood was lived in an environment where hostility towards Americans was still harbored by the Japanese.  The disdainful eyes of the community viewed her, her siblings, and her mother as outsiders.  Their fairer skin created a target that followed them everywhere.  Kazumi’s young, innocent heart was scarred from the isolation and her continuous desire to belong.

Mom’s journey had a drastic change when she moved to the United States in the spring of 1962.  A deep hurt and sadness from leaving the few friends she had and the fear of the unknown began to brew within.  She was on an airplane for the first time with her father, a man she didn’t know.  Her worries were momentarily put on hold when they stopped over in Hawaii.  Mom ate a traditional American meal:  hamburger and french fries.  She had never eaten such food before.  The saltiness of the fries is a memory that lingers on her palate to this day.  The entire family eventually arrived to their temporary destination of six months, Fort Lewis, a military base in Washington.  Despite the range of emotions, mom was thankful to reside in America.  She had new luxuries such as TV, an indoor bathroom, and nice clothes.  Sleeping on bamboo mats, bathing in the public bathhouse, wearing a uniform, and tolerating the rigidity of Japanese education was no longer required.

At home, mom was faced with yet another challenge, her father.  He was more like the occasional visitor, rather than a dad.  Kazumi saw him only a handful of times during her 14 years in Japan, typically during major holidays.  Now she was living with this stranger of a man in a new, foreign place.  He was trying to do what he thought was best for his wife and three children.  However, a dense fog quietly floated into their lives creating a permanent division between a father and his children.  Paul naively stripped Kazumi of her identity, creating a silent isolation that would last the rest of her life.  Speaking Japanese was now forbidden at home, since “they were in America now.”  Unable to communicate, this expectation created a state of constant confusion for mom.  Her red, Japanese-English dictionary became her “Bible,” the only resource she had to navigate her daily life.  The dictionary was a silent companion carried with her for years, translating the words she knew into the new words of the unknown; a liberator of knowledge.

There was another subtle division within the family.  Mom’s two siblings, seven and nine years younger, were given “American names” at birth, rather than Japanese.  Even in her own home, amongst family, she was different.  Over time, Kazumi decided she needed a nickname.  She selected “Linda,” after a pretty woman she met at the Albertsons’ bakery, where her father worked.  To her, this sounded more “American,” allowing her to find an avenue to try and fit in.  Kazumi was no longer required to repeat, sound out, or spell out her foreign name to others.  She was now one of “them,” an American, leaving her Japanese identity behind.

Kazumi entered the classroom on the first day of school, this time in Lacey, Washington at the age of 15.  She wore a pretty new dress, recently purchased from Sears.  Students gazed at her as she made her way toward her designated desk.  The teacher was talking assumingly in a kind way, but Kazumi didn’t understand a single word.  She doesn’t look like us; the classmates silently judged the only Asian child in the school.  I don’t feel like I belong her, Kazumi thought as her anxious heart thundered in her chest.

Once again, Kazumi was exposed to the verbal cruelty of her classmates.  This time, whispers of “Jap” and “slant eyes” floated towards her ears.  The same prejudice would creep up on her, like a mysterious predator following her, adding more scars to her heart.  Mom stood out among the new peers, both physically and symbolically.  Even though she was 15, the school placed her in the 5th grade.  She was definitely intelligent, despite the ignorant assumptions placed upon her, but she didn’t speak English.  Learning English was achieved solely by her own work ethic and determination.  The teachers didn’t help, there wasn’t a “special program,” and no support was offered after school nor at home.

Mom completed fifth through seventh grade, then jumped to tenth, eventually graduating high school in 1968 at the age of twenty-one.  Despite the incredibly difficult times, mom was very proud that she earned her high school diploma; a deep sense of accomplishment she finally felt for the first time.

In the depths of her eyes, the pain of Kazumi’s childhood is buried deep below the surface where only the observant can see.  Even in America, the “land of the free,” her experiences have not been free of hurt, prejudice, or ignorance.  Mom’s perseverance over time has created a quiet, determined strength that makes her the woman she is today.  The scars on her heart have begun to fade, but they will never completely disappear.  They are part of who she is, an identity, which she can proudly claim.

~D. Thompson