One Indiana night, my not-quite-yet ex calls to inform me that he had just filed for bankruptcy, and if I knew what was good for me, I had best hop to it, and file for myself. Got a lawyer, had him help me walk me through it.Way,way back, I can still remember HP dancing around the living room upon receiving our 13th credit card. I was no angel, but had no 23 ft fishing boat, Zodiak raft,or Harley Davidson "Fat Boy". I did not own 3 Hondas, chests of tools, top-of the line 35mm camera w/tripod and a mulitude of expensive lenses & gadgets. I did not make, fly and crash radio controled airplanes, boats,& sailplanes, nor did I initiate the purchase of 5 parrots that squawked noisily to greet the dawn, and just as noisily to say goodnight at sunset. These were not my bright ideas, and my multiple attempts to prove that when I was in that car wreck and accidently got my girlfriend killed, that my life was worthy of being the only survivor...no, that wasn't me being high maintainence...2 sides to every story,sure...but that was HP. Me, I was his accomplice, his partner-in-crime, I let him buy whatever he felt he needed, and on some rare occasions, just for fun, he let me sign the credit card receipts, cause it truly was a novel experience for me. I will take 50% of the blame for being stupid in love with a man that called me bad names. Did the bankruptcy thing as I could barely support myself let alone be responsible for my ex's toys on the other side of the continent. A couple of years down the road, I'm living alone in a hovel in East Oakland in a funky lil basement apartment with my sweet dog, Cassidy, when the phone rings @ 6:30ish AM, jarring me rudely, from a poor night's sleep. It's a bill collector calling from the East Coast with the nastiest snide attitude his side of the Mississippi. He was demanding immediate payment in full for one of the long ago 13 credit cards used for HP's toy-o-rama. He told me that I was lying, that I never had filed and I owed now! I am a gentle spirit now, as I was then. When other folks rant and rave I tend to let them and hope against hope that they take a deep breath and mellow out and calm down. It's a character flaw, but they hurt my feelings and shatter any semblence of my inner peace. In many ways-tho I know better, I am addicted to approval, and I know how self-defeating that whole scence can be. I tried to calm him down, got his info & told him mine re:IN lawyer that walked me thru it & finally got him to let me off the phone. Inside, my nerves were shot.I cried,wailed and sobbed out of control. I felt shattered & in tattters(hey now, Mick). I managed to flip on my stereo, and SF's KFOG rescued me with the song they had coincidently put on the air just at that very point in time. John Lee Hooker and Carlos Santana, "The Healer." Breathing deep, in ,thru my nose, out, thru my mouth, closing my eyes, allowing myself to heal from within. It was magical, and it gave me strength, and I will never forget the sounds and the sensation of the healing gutairs, and the old man's voice of blues.Man, I needed that, and there it was for me. Such excellent cosmic timing. A yr. or so later, I worked with Rock Med at the Bay Area Music Awards. John Lee was getting a life-time achievement award. He was something like 71 yrs old, and backstage, we passed each other going opposite ways, and I stood to one side and let him pass." Thank you, very kindly,"he said with a nod of his head, and a crinkled old man's contagious smile. I always tried to be professional and low-profile backstage,(unless I was dancing, of course)and I just smiled and nodded as well. Soon, the audience were pouring into the Civic Ctr., and these kids were young and drunk, rude and abrasive. Just this woman's opinion...but when John went up on stage to claim his award, THEY BOOED HIM! They were unruly, loud, and they pissed me off something fierce. I was so embarrassed for this kind old gentleman-these spoiled rotten rich kids who came for the party, loudly disrespected one of the greatest musicians of our time, and more than likely it was because they were just plain ignorant of who he was and all that he had done. They were waiting to see if Whitesnake or a reasonable facsimile might win something... now, hopefully, those kids are old enough to know better. I heard on the radio today that Carlos & John Lee just put out another duet. I believe that one of those drunken punks will someday hear this new gift, and it will touch this 30- something person, as" The Healer" touched me. Carlos believes that the world can find peace through music-that music can unite us some fine day. With the help of Karma, synchronicity, and God's love, it just might happen. I wish.

It was awhile after I had been single, and back in California on my own, that I went solo to work for Rock Medicine at yet one more Grateful Dead show. Sean was there, but he was with his brothers out watching the concert together. He comes from a family of Deadheads. That must've been fun. Regardless, we only had seen one another in passing at this particular show, and that was cool. I was working with the kids that needed help in the clinic. We had volunteer Docs, RN's, Paramedics, EMTs and streetwise folks that just wanted to keep these kids out of jail &/or a hospital. Help out, and check out the Dead ...(There is nothing like a Grateful Dead Show). Business was brisk, but not too crazy...the kids generally meant well, they were just having too much fun. Kids were resting on air matresses, and we were calmly monitoring their vital signs, trying to talk them into not having panic attacks, trying to talk them down gently...whatever it took. I was with a patient when noticed none of the staff were talking with any one at all. And, now that I looked around, most of the staff was looking at me with shocked expressions. I stood up and glanced around the room to check out the wierdness, and as I turned, I was staring into the face of my ex, HP. That's when I got that shocked look on my face, I'm guessing...I had not seen nor spoken to him for 5 yrs. I had never told him that I had returned to the Bay Area. I came back for the magnetisim that Northern California had always held for me. I came back for lots of reasons, but I came back figuring I'd never see him again-it is a big city. My friend Barb grabbed me by the arm and ushered me out of the clinic yelling back that someone needed to keep an eye on Cher's patients cuz Cher needed a break. We walked quickly to the far side of the auditorium, me, speechless all of the way. When we stopped and found a spot in the hallway crowds to talk, the words suddenly came forth,"What's he doing here? He hates The Dead, he's always hated The Dead! He always forbid me to play The Dead when he was home, I think mostly because he knew I enjoyed them so much! He's not on the list! He's come to ruin one more Grateful Dead show for me! Why did he have to come to The Dead?" I thanked Barb for getting me out of there, but told her I kinda wanted to be alone and stroll the show on my own for a bit, and try to recover my composure. I was very somber, thinking deep thoughts, wondering where Sean was, not having any fun, wanting to go home, hating to leave before the music stopped. Eventually, I worked my way back to the clinic & ascertained that HP was no longer in the clinic. Had to escort a young lady patient to the restroom, and on our way back, there's HP. He was close enough to the clinic to yell at one of the guys watching the door to get Barb to take this patient for Cher...which she did...not being God's gift to astute observation, I belatedly noticed a young lady with my ex old man. He says,"What-all those years together, and no hug?" Shouldn't have done it, but complied with a wooden-like imitation token hug...then, he introduces me to his fiance, who's name I immediately forgot to this day. She gives me a broad wink-and to this day, I wonder why she winked and if it meant anything and why would I care,if it did? Then, he asks me if I had found someone special in my life yet. Sean & I were friends w/potential @ that point, but nothing more. I shook my head "No", looked at the floor, and tried to leave it there. Then, he puts his arm on my shoulder and tells me that I" ought to, because," I was" really special." This kind advice from a man whose every whim I had obeyed for more than 9 yrs, and hadn't seen for 5 yrs. His parting words to me as we parted ways,ending our marriage, were "Don't tramp yourself out too much" This from a man who used my name maybe 5 times in all those years and had always refererred to me as "Moose", and various combinations of" bitch,whore,slut." AND WHAT WAS HE DOING AT A DEAD SHOW ANYWAY? HE HATES THE DEAD! After more, meaningless small talk, he finally made his graceful exit, and I made my frantic one...I begged off finishing the night in the clinic, everyone was kind and understanding,and I just wanted to go home, so I left. I had parked legally earlier in the evening, but as the crowd swelled, my car became blocked in by many other Deadhead cars. I hit the hood of my car with both hands and say very loudly to myself," What was he doing at The Dead? He hates The Dead." Then, I notice I am not alone in the parking lot. There's a guy over there, kicking the ground, pissed off and blocked in just as I was. Well. I'll be dog-goned...my fellow stranded soul was Al Franken...SNL's AL Franken! His Mercedes was blocked in,and it was evident that he had temporariy lost his sense of humor. I looked at him just a moment too long, but we both knew I knew who he was. On any other occasion, I'd have seized the moment and spoken to him. But we both did not feel like talking right then, and we both knew it, and after 20 minutes, the show was over, and another 30 minutes our cars were freed, and we forever went our separate ways. I allowed HP to ruin yet another life experience for me. These days, I kind of figure that I will never see either one of them again. But it is said that we are all just separated by 5 folks we know...whoever knows Al &/or HP will hopefully keep a low profile about it. There are some things best left unknown, unsaid,undone. Some things are better off forgotten.

But they love us so much in return...they are fat & happy, w/doggy-doors, a fenced-in acre, and a can of tuna fish every night with their kibble. We always pay our vet bill in full within the month, if not right away...We are most likely to be labeled as lower-middle class, but we do not mind, and only spend money when it's really important. Our dogs are really important to the quality of our lives. And we are borderline-poor. If we had more money, people would just want to borrow from us. Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty Peggy Sue has probably suffered some trauma while trekking the Wild Life Preserve w/Bubba yesterday. Or she could have just rolled off the new back porch that Bubba built last July when he was suffering from a staggering summer-flu.( The man cannot kick back. He always has to be accomplishing something. He is beyond creative, thus always engaged in some feat of wonder.)We'll recheck Pegasus's "swelling" in two wks, and if it has not disappated, we will get X-Rays, and talk about another biopsy. She is Princess Pegasus and we will not deny her as much quality of life as we can heap upon her. That boxer's smile-priceless. But the doc found more-than-considerable worsening of her arthritic knees. He put her on Rimadyl. Ramble-On Rose has been on Rimydyl for a couple of years now. $214.95 for two dogs for one month. We do what is important to us for as long as we can.

Bubba found a large mass on our adorable Boxer, Peggy Sue last night. Boxers are prone to cancer, and she's already had 2 masses removed and biopsied-one benign, the other, cancer-caught-early-and checked. We were hoping...now, in a day, she sprouts a huge mass.she is such a sweet and loving dog. How we hope that this is a fatty tumor-something that comes and goes sometimes w/K9s.ok-9:15 appt confirmed. I never had kids(long story)...my dogs have always been my children...and I have always loved them unconditionally, and they have always returned the favor.

You know who you are... You are deep, misunderstood, intent upon proving yourself too complicated to channel emotional commitments that are subsitutions for the earth-shattering questions and answers that only you are privy,to. You are the stars in my own long, strange trip that has thus far been my life ...You are "Metaphysical Fred," an East Coast Dead Head transplanted in Berkeley making passes at me during a Jerry Garcia Band show, then codenscendingly asking if I'd like to go for sushi after the show. All Deadheads are not alike, I already knew the East Coast Kids were tougher than their Bay Area counterparts. I let a lot of bewildering "dis-ing" slide, cuz I just thought it was his Big City streetwise way.He was in Berkely studying to be a Psychic Minister. He did readings at Psychic Fairs, told me I was an old soul,(like he was doing me some kind of favor, saying any wisdom that I had gleaned was from a previous life-I was still too naiive to be wise from this lifetime. This is how he explained it to me...whatever it meant, I didn't feel good about it, but figured I might be the one with the problem). Until about our 5th sushi date(all dutch-treat from the git-go, I might add, which as the time was no big, cause I dug sushi, too.) Walking to the restraunt, I asked him to explain more about the physcic powers he was grooming through this studying he was so into.Chakra's, auras, fine tuning intuition, meditating etc. He was so very serious pursuing these roads less travelled. No one understood him, of course. Well, he answers me that, he's not really sure. That it just might all be bullshit, he wasn't really sure. But the "feeling of power" that came with a psychic preacher, "mesmerising" his congregation...now, that, was why he was so dead- on serious following this wierd avenue that was his destiny. I didn't dig his power explanation, but we went on for lunch as we both dug sushi, it was a beautiful day and I thought maybe I might have misunderstood him...He wanted to go CD shopping after lunch. Imagine my surprise when he parked in front of the store and quickly, calmly handcuffed me to the steering wheel. He explained that it was a harmless game, and he'd be right back after CD shopping. "Say what?"" Be right back..."and he stayed in the store for almost 1/2 hr. Man, I know he was cruising the store digging the idea of having a chick handcuffed to his truck-under his "power." He came back, I had lost all sense of humor &/or sense of adventure. He took off the handcuffs at my noisy demand, and let it be known I was the one missing out by not participating in his "harmless game." He felt we could have alot of fun if I'd play. Dude, to me, it's all alot of negative energy, wasted energy,& forced acting to be enoying his game, and he'd be the only one enjoying his game, at all. Geez...be misunderstood, just take me to my car. I was married to HP and Mama don't play that power-trip game no more. He didn't call, and I didn't want him to for a coupla weeks. Then he shows up at my back door (I was living in the ghetto in East Oakland then, right off Broadway), and barges in like a man with a mission and proceedes to start drilling holes in the headboard of my waterbed-so he could tie me up. All my yelling, stompin'& screaming to stop, did not stop him. I had already lost all of my possesions through multiple life dramas and here was this guy drilling holes in one of my few pieces of furniture. He was flabberghasted that I was unappreciative, and so loud about it. He was stubbornly hanging out, he'd brought wine, we were gonna have a good time." OUT!OUT!OUT!", I yelled at him and he finally left bummed that I just didn't get it. Dunno, don't care if he was looking for love or just strange sex. But, I figure, these days he is still alone. Because he is so deep, so misunderstood, so much more intelligent-not to mention more physcic than any of the women he had tried to relate to...in his own power-hungry self-important journey. oh yeah, Mr Desperado, you are also Sean, and Ron, and HP, and Daniel, and John... I'll prob get around to your Deperado stories some other night when I am reflecting on what a long,strange trip it continues to be...