Ranting and Writing

I am still not writing much these days... Except perhaps for school. I am taking a completely engaging American history class, a Public Policy class, and a Women in Literature & Film class. Perhaps this has something to do with why I am not writing much, because I have so much writing to do for my classes.

I am particularly dreading the essays for my English class; two more to do in three weeks. I thought I would love this class. I don't. I can't believe I once considered being an English major. What was I thinking? And that's just it; I wasn’t. I was inspired. I had such amazing English professors at Santa Monica College! I felt transformed by our readings, the insights gained, and how much I learned just by, well, writing about or in response to the various novels or poems. Doten, Engelmann, Remmes.... these professors shed light on the path of self-discovery and forced me to stretch my mind and bend my brain. I learned so much about myself and human nature through our readings, lively discussions, and most of all, by writing essays. It was in the writing that understanding revealed itself.

So why do I hate this class so much?? I just wish it was over already. It's the extraordinary amount of time it demands of me, the volume of reading, the volume and caliber of essays required, and the complete lack of interaction with students and the professor herself. That is the main problem. This can't be blamed on the fact that this is an online class. My English 10 class, "Ethnic Literature of the U.S." was an online class. It was one of my most favorite classes ever. Prof. Remmes selected enlightening novels that opened up cultural worlds to me. Our online discussions helped me see difficult issues from many different perspectives. With an online discussion you actually have time to think about what you are going to say, rather than just raising your hand and blurting out whatever jumps to mind. So the discussions were intelligent, provoking, and fun. I loved how my thoughts, analysis, and understanding all crystallized in my essays.

And that's exactly why I am so disenchanted with this class at CSUB. The two online discussions we had were tedious, and without much real dialog. We each independently follow the syllabus, read novels, watch the films, and then write essays and submit them. I do not feel stimulated, except by the novels themselves. I do not feel motivated to excel except by my obsession to get straight A’s. I don't feel inspired. It's not fun. I want it to be over. I resent this professor, who is incredibly qualified, is the author of distinguished text books, and probably has all kinds of academic awards. I resent her because she doesn't do anything (in terms of interaction with students) and still gets paid. I resent her because she has an easy job. I resent her because I have to work so hard to get an A with her, and I really don't have time. I am concentrating on the classes that have to do with my major which, thank God, is not English.

Some people have been nudging me a little to write on my blog. It's been months since I've posted anything and what a disappointment it must be to read this and have to listen to me complain! I'm sorry! Bless your heart for bearing with me this far. But actually, probably a big reason I've been writing next to nothing for pleasure is because my life these days is my job (which I love), school (3 nights a week plus online class, and all the accompanying studying, research and writing), and my personal life (my what?), which I actually do have.

Anyway, now that I've vented, let me say I am thankful for everything. I am thankful for the most amazing, courageous, compassionate, and wise girlfriends in the world (I am listing them first because three of them came to visit me yesterday here in Bakersfield and I am still awash in their love and beautiful spirit). I am thankful for my husband a million times a day. I am so glad, so thankful, thank You GOD, every single day that I am with him and not with that loser I thought I loved 25 years ago (and that is not my first husband, so don't get me wrong). When you look and see all the miracles in your life, the weavings of life that are so perfect.... then we know the hand of the Divine in arranging our affairs, providing the lessons we need to learn and grow... I am thankful for my daughters. O my god, my daughters are the blessing of my life. It is my blessing to be their mom. Funny how the older we get, the more we want to be with our kids, and the farther away they move. I am thankful for all of the lessons I have had in my life and all of the lessons and challenges to come. God is so great, life is such a gift, everything is so perfect… even dreadful English classes.

I'm just not writing much these days.

I have a close friend who admitted to me the other day that she is critical. I had actually specifically telephoned her because I knew she was, and wanted her opinion of something that was troubling me. She of course told me exactly what I expected to hear, that yes there was something not quite right about such and such and she couldn’t quite nail it but she really felt definitely something was really off. That’s when she said, “You know, I am pretty critical,” and I said, “You’re right, and I’m cynical.” Which is true, because I am, about almost everything.

But that is beside the point, which is that (I’m inserting a qualifier here: generally speaking) we all too easily jump to conclusions and then latch on to any other opinion that remotely agrees as a way to support whatever we concluded. There’s some catch phrase… "Like minds think alike? No, that’s not it. Birds of a feather flock together? You know, the group think thing? It’s easier to agree than to disagree. For, to disagree successfully (not necessarily proving yourself right or being the loudest or most assertive, but simply stating your position well) you must know what you are talking about. You must have questioned, listened to and examined different points of view, digested the information, honestly considered how you feel about it, and not in comparison to others or by identifying with the opinions of others or whoever has the strongest voice, but really truly, based on your best efforts to understand, what is your opinion and why. That’s just the head part. There’s also your heart and your gut… your natural intuitive instinct… all these things come into play. This is really too much work for most to bother with.

It’s easier to agree, or to be loud in your disagreement, or be a tape recorder for what someone else said that sounded good enough to you, or close to whatever is the popular “think” for whatever group you identify with.

So maybe being a bit cynical isn’t so bad after all. I mean, I’m not really negative, but I am usually the last person to jump on the bandwagon. On the flip side, I’ve missed some great rides.

A Day in Capistrano

There are a few things about this town that are completely different from L.A. Well, maybe more than a few things, but there are some differences that stand out. First of all, I've never seen any place where so many homes have their own private parking lots. I noticed this last summer when I started looking for a home to rent, preparing for our upcoming move. In some areas it seemed like every house had a huge driveway. I mean HUGE, as in large enough to park several cars and a bus.

Then, when I looked through real estate ads I noticed that "RV parking" was commonly listed along with the other selling points for many houses.

It struck me as a little odd, because in L.A. real estate the size of one of these driveways would be covered with a house. Although I'm sure there are many families in L.A. that own RVs, and maybe some who even have a parking space for one in their driveway, I can only remember ever seeing RVs (and as an oddity) parked on the street. I had an assumption that RVs are for retired couples who want to see America on a budget, or for families who rented them for weekend trips to the mountains, or to go visit relatives in Missouri. So, I thought it odd that RVs are so popular in Bakersfield.

Now, I think I know why.

It's hot here in the summer.

Today my husband and I drove south to Capistrano Beach to spend the day with friends who rent a beach house there every summer. We left Bakersfield about 9:00 AM and it was already in the 90s, with a forecast of 104. When we arrived in Capistrano three hours later it was a cool 80 degrees.There was a houseful of friends, relatives, and kids of all ages, along with plenty of food, sun, surf, sand and beach cruiser bikes. A wonderful sea breeze, negative ions, the rhythmic roar of surf, and Jane Austen's Emma lulled me into a state of sweet relaxation. I woke to my husband's touch, reminding me it was time for our bike ride.

We hopped onto borrowed cruiser bikes, mine pink, slightly rusty, and with a cute little wicker basket in front just the right size for my water bottle and sunscreen; his black and sans basket. We rode a mile or so up the narrow private road to the bike path, and then kept north. That's when I noticed the entire beach side of the bike path was blanketed with RVs, maybe a hundred of them, and dotted with camp tents. It was like a beach town, everyone out in the sun, on the beach, in the water, playing cards, and cooling off.

It makes complete sense. Pay a little parking fee (many were just parked in the parking lot, not in the campsite) or campsite fee, and there you are. Let the kids loose, set up your pop up gazebo, drinks in the cooler, stocked fridge and pantry, keep the sunscreen handy, and you are on vacation.

I'm just an ex L.A. girl who has always lived within 8 miles of the beach and never needed an RV to get there, but I'll betcha most folks with RVs here in Bakersfield use them for heading to the coast during the hot months. And it beats paying $300 a night (or more) for a hotel room.

I am not running out to get an RV, and doubt we will ever ever own or rent one. However, I am realizing my L.A. naivete. How hadn't I even known there is an entire culture of people who use their RVs all the time (in the summer at least). Totally cool.

Godzilla's on vacation

My husband and daughter are off to Tucson to visit his mom for the July 4th weekend. I spent yesterday cleaning house, interspersed with watching NCIS, noodling on the internet, and napping. Today I rewarded myself for a job well done by going to L.A. to see a few friends and get a little shopping done.

This worked out great, because when I called my bff Siri Bhrosa about getting together she suggested I join her and her husband Kirtan Singh at the Walnut gurdwara in leading kirtan. I haven't played kirtan at gurdwara here in Bakersfield in the 9 months that I've lived here (this is entirely because I haven't been assertive at all getting on the schedule). I couldn't find my little shabd book anywhere in the house, so chose one to play from a handful of printed shabd sheets I had on file, "Chit Aavai Os Parabrahm Lagai na tatee vaao." Perfect. Gratefully, God was merciful and my voice was working today. So often I start losing my voice or it cracks or otherwise malfunctions.... but today it was right on and the energy was great.

Afterward as we were driving back to L.A. Kirtan Singh commented on how he loved how empty the streets all were. It's Saturday, the 4th of July, and looking down the road there was not a single other car on that street. His theory was that everyone must have left the city en masse for the holiday.

I think he's right.

After our little Walnut trip, I stopped and visited with my other bff Hari Bhajan for a couple hours, and then headed out to do a little shopping around (I'm looking for just the right area rug for my living room... no success today). Headed down Robertson Blvd. toward the 10 Freeway, this is what it looked like around 4 PM:



Shopping done and not quite pooped, I decided not to stay in L.A. for the picnic and fireworks at Rancho Park. I got on the 405 and headed north toward Bakersfield around 6 PM. You would have thought, except for the fact that it was still daylight, that it was 3 in the morning, there were so few cars on the freeway. It was so bizarre, to be in L.A., on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, driving on a surreally empty freeway, specifically the 405 freeway from LAX and northward.

This is going north on 405, headed out of San Fernando Valley:


And this is I-5 somewhere north of Castaic:



I did not hit traffic of any substance at all until I neared Bakersfield!

Normally, we all know, L.A. is so jammed with traffic it can take an hour and a half going from the West side to downtown, a distance of maybe 10 or 12 miles. In fact, typically when I am leaving L.A. and my car is stuck in the tight rows on the freeway with all the other zillions cars wherever the hell they are going, I am struck by how if these same cars were on the 99 going north out of Bakersfield, you'd think a mass evacuation was in progress. You'd think Godzilla was coming over the mountains about to invade us and we were all cramming the freeways getting the hell out of there. L.A. is like that all the time, in a constant state of Godzilla coming.

God, I love Bakersfield.

Oh, but my poor husband. He is coming home from Tucson tomorrow, Sunday afternoon, at the end of the holiday weekend, into LAX, and then he is driving home to Bakersfield. It is too painful to even imagine. But at least he will come home to a clean house and a happy and unstressed me :-)

Land of Green Chiles, Sopapillas, and Loving Family

Here's pics from our trip last weekend to New Mexico. We arrived in Albuquerque Thursday 6/25 around 7 PM, picked up our rental (great weekend deal with Hertz, 50% off!) and headed north on 25 toward Santa Fe. Here's a pic snapped from our car. One side of the road was bright (first pic) and the other was dark (second pic)... the dark side was where the sun was going down... the darkness from massive thunderheads blackening the sky.

By the time we were on the Taos Highway going toward Espanola, the sky was a literal light show. Lightening flashing and illuminating a wall of clouds thick with rain... all in the distance.

We pulled into the driveway of our friends, Seva Simran Siri S&K around 9:15 after a quick stop at Wild Oats in Santa Fe for snacks.

My daughter Satkartar (Saki), her husband Kris, and our family's new addition, Cassandra Kiran (Cassie) were already there, having flown in earlier in the day from Durham. I thought for sure they'd all be asleep after the long trip, but Saki was up with Cassie in the living room trying to get her to go to sleep. What an angel!

Here is Gurujodha meeting Cassie for the first time, when she joined him at the end of his sadhana meditation the next morning.


That morning was also the wedding of Siri Chand Singh and Tejinder Kaur. Gurujodha and Dev Suroop Kaur were co-ministers for the wedding. This was the first time I'd ever known of two ministers performing the ceremony. It's a long story, but the couple wanted Gurujodha and Dev Suroop specifically, because of their background (from either interracial or interfaith relationships) and also because each had an integral role to play in the lives of this couple. Below are many photos from after the wedding. Only one of my photos of the actual ceremony came out.

If the layout looks weird it's because it is very hard to format things with the tools this blogsite provides. Perhaps I will become more expert as I go along.












This was probably the most wonderful wedding I've ever attended. The energy was absolutely incredible, powerful, knock your socks off. A truly blessed couple who demonstrate that with faith and love all challenges can be met, and that the hand of God truly reaches and protects those who serve in His Name. After the receptions (sorry, no pics) we made it up to Ram Das Puri for the last night of Summer Solstice Sadhana and the Rainsabi (all night kirtan/music program).



I am getting the hang of this, kinda.

OK here's more family pics. Cassie is blessed with three Grandpas..... Jerry (Kris's dad in Durham), Gurujodha (also known as G-Popz) and Siri Ved Singh (Saki's father who lives in Espanola). Here is Siri Ved Singh meeting Cassie for the first time.


Cassie gets her first karate lesson with GPopz and learns Short Form One.

After a relaxing Saturday with family, lunch at El Parasol (best little roadside spot in town for authentic New Mexican green chile cuisine), and an afternoon movie (I can't remember what it was, if not such great company it would have been a waste of time), we all met for dinner at La Cocina (best little restaurant in town for great New Mexican food).... Gurujodha, Satamrit, Saki & Kris, Avtar, Siri Ved Singh, Cassie, my sister Guruprem Kaur (also lives in Espanola), and I. Good times, good food, and a good reason to eat a light breakfast in the morning.














Mmmmm veggie burritos with GREEN CHILE















































After dinner, Gurujodha and I went to the Ranch for a kirtan program with UstadJi (kirtan master who teaches the Cherdi Kala Jatha) which was a truly blissful and meditative way to top off a full day.

The next morning before packing up for our trip home, Avtar came over (from her friend Lakshmi's down the road) and we all (Seva simran Siri's, Kris & Saki, Gurujodha and me, Avtar, and even Cassie had a tiny bit of banana) had a cozy relaxed breakfast (fruit salad, scrambled tofu, toast, juice, and a little of this and that), talked ashram politics, played with Cassie, and honest to God, it was wonderful.

A few hours of driving and flying time later, we landed in L.A., drove a couple hours, and were home by about 9:30 PM. Too short a weekend!!!

And all I feel is so much gratitude for t his wonderful loving family.

La Mina Mañana

I hadn’t packed my usual lunch for the office on Friday and the thought of melted cheese, jalapenos, fresh salsa, crispy corn tortillas and guacamole wouldn’t leave my mind. So I asked one of the secretaries at my office for the name of the Mexican restaurant she frequents that has the roasted fresh jalapenos she has generously shared with others in the lunch room, and she quickly responded, “Oh, La Mina! That’s right down on H Street. Go past Truxtun, under the freeway , and it’s just before California, on the left.”

With nachos on my mind, I popped in my car and headed down H Street. And there it was, just like she said, in a little strip mall on the left. I was immediately attracted by their sign on the corner. The next thing I noticed was Connie’s Kupcake Kreations, just a couple doors down in the same strip mall. “Hmm,” I thought, “I’ll stop there next and get some cupcakes for the office.”

Inside La Mina I had an instantly positive impression. It was clean, felt cozy and well cared for, was filled with the aroma of red chiles, fried tortillas, cilantro, and all those ingredients that make Mexican one of my top three favorite foods (a close tie with Indian and Italian) and, since it was nearly 2:00 PM, there were only one or two people ahead of me ordering.

I eyed the menu posted above the order counter, which was written in Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish, but know enough to decipher that nearly everything on the menu contains meat, fish or eggs (I am vegetarian). However, besides rice, beans, bean burritos, tostadas, and quesadillas, the menu did include my craving, nachos, and they’re a dollar off without meat; just my kind of bargain. I placed my order with a handsome and clean cut young man and he verified that I wanted it sans meat. I asked about the roasted jalapenos too. He checked on the cost and informed me they were 75 cents each. I thought that was a little much for a roasted jalapeno but my craving for them won out and I ordered two. A young lady who was giving another customer their order at the pick-up counter looked over our way and said, “They are 75 cents each, or three for 99 cents.” That sold me, and I changed my order to three.

During the short wait I filled up a few little plastic containers with salsa and pickled carrots & jalapenos; then my order was ready. I gave my thanks, went out the front door, and headed toward Connie's Kupcake Kreations. Ten steps out the door and the young man from behind the counter called out to me, “M’am! Wait a minute!” He ran up to me and explained that although he had confirmed with me that I wanted no meat on my nachos, he hadn’t made this clear to the cook. He checked my order and sure enough, the container heavy with piping hot nachos was also heavy with shredded beef. He said they’d make me a fresh batch right away. I thanked him profusely for catching this and told him I’d be right back after I picked up some cupcakes.

Connie’s Kupcakes was an airy and comfy shop, nothing at all like the slick Sprinkles cupcake store I used to go to in Beverly Hills. The glass bakery case displayed seven or eight varieties of cupcakes, each flavor offered in both a gigantic size (big enough to share) and a mini size (2-3 bites). They looked scrumptious, thick with butter cream, chocolate or cream cheese frosting, and cleverly decorated too (I liked the white on white cupcakes with sprinkles, topped with little plastic basketballs… Go Lakers!). Their prices ranged from $2.00 to $2.50 each for the large size, and $1.00 each for the small. Remembering the 16 employees at the office that day, including seven substantial guys, and that 2-3 bites each would just not do, I ordered an assortment of 17 large cupcakes. Red Velvet, Peanut Butter, Chocolate Chip, Mocha with Coffee Frosting (this was a butter cream frosting with ground coffee beans in it; amazing!), Black and Whites, Banana Nut, and I’m not sure what they all were. She gave me the $2.50 ones at the $2.00 price, a courtesy I won’t expect the next time I go back, but one that ensured I will be a returning customer.

I unloaded two big boxes of cupcakes into my car’s front seat, strapped them in, and went back to La Mina to pick up my nachos. They were bagged up and ready to go. I thanked the young man again for catching the mistake and chasing me down . What a huge disappointment that would have been if I’d gotten all the way back to my office and not discovered the error until then! I wouldn’t have had the time to go back for a replacement, and would have been less likely to return to La Mina at all.

Back at my office everyone was delighted with the cupcakes. They tasted like homemade; homemade like my Grandma Kosten would have made, the cake not too sweet, rich and light at the same time, with a firmness that melted in my mouth. They were spread thickly with a richer, sweeter frosting that made just the right balance in texture and taste. An employee who had recently left the company was in for a visit that afternoon and the cupcakes turned out to be a great way to celebrate seeing her again.

Before indulging in cupcakes, however, I enjoyed my nachos. Hands down the best nachos I remember ever having had. Move over and take a seat Baja Fresh and La Salsa, because La Mina gets the honors today. Enough for two to share (I’m embarrassed to say I devoured the entire order), homemade tortilla chips were smothered with perfect pinto beans (no lard), jalapenos, zesty guacamole, sour cream, salsa, melted cheese, and topped with crumbled queso fresco. I added the salsa I had packed in the little containers (I’m big on big flavor) and enjoyed the roasted jalapenos, bite by bite (still warm from the grill). Totally hit the spot and satisfied me well enough I did not need dinner that evening. I think next week I will go back to La Mina and try the tostada.

Crossing the Mountain

Perhaps you've heard that it's hot in Bakersfield. Summer starts in mid May and ends some time in October. Triple digits are the norm. When I moved here last October it was the tail end of 100+ weather. While job searching during August and September I came up to Bako from down south a few times a month and it was well over 100. This heat actually felt good to me. Trust me though, most people do not feel this way. For me, as long as the air is moving, I feel like I can breathe. At night when it seems hotter than the day, I simply keep the AC set at 85 or so and turn on a fan. That circulating air makes all the difference in the world.

As much as I may enjoy (or at least tolerate) the heat, my car (a very well maintained 1991 Toyota Corolla) does not. If it's over 85 degrees or so and if I don't turn the heater on full blast when driving up the mountains, the engine will overheat. The only problem is, driving in 100+ heat with the heater on full blast is a little bit of a torture. This fact makes trips to L.A. less attractive.

And that brings me to what is the hardest part for me living here. It's not the heat; It is that I do not yet feel part of a community. I know it's just going to take some time.

Making that kind of connection, at least for me, is important. Women need to connect with other women; it's in our DNA. We need these connections to feel whole, to counsel one another, to discuss those things our husbands have no interest in hearing about, and simply to chat and laugh together. I miss playing bid whist with my girlfriends. I miss my writing group and the sharing of our stories that brought us all so much closer together. I miss walking down the street in the neighborhood I lived in for so many years, and almost without fail running into a long time friend or new neighbor, and stopping for a few minutes to shoot the breeze. These small things, they are so great really, are often not appreciated enough.

As part of my mission to meet people, I've joined a writing group here in Bakersfield (Writers of Kern). I think this group will be helpful in terms of becoming a better writer and perhaps one day getting something published. I am thinking though of starting a new group, like the True Tales group I started in L.A., that isn't so much about the craft of writing as it is about sharing the small stories from our lives that we've written. Maybe something interfaith, or intercultural, or really interanything. This kind of sharing is such a wonderful way to gain deeper understanding, appreciation, and respect for one another. We can all use that, don't you think?