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    This Land IS Your Land! (photo slideshow)

    blog-of-writer-lisa-houston
    I took these photos at the San Francisco Airport protest on January 29, 2017. Like protests at airports across the country, this one was peaceful, and spontaneous. A heartfelt response from thousands of people who were offended and distressed at the new president’s ban on travelers for seven mostly Muslim nations.
     
    This slide show seemed like a good way to honor Woodie Guthrie, who on this day, February 23rd, in 1940, wrote the lyrics to his wonderful song, “This Land Is Your Land.”
     
    And it is.
    Gadget approves of my sign.
    Emma Lazarus''s full poem "The New Colossus" on the back of the sign.
    Riding BART, already making friends with fellow-protestors.
    Getting started around noon.
    Kid friendly.
    There were lawyers all over the place, trying to help detainees.
    Pretty much says it all.
    Writers, this photo was taken by a literary agent I ran into by chance. Protesting is a great way to network: )
    Marching & chanting: "No Ban, No Wall, Sanctuary for All!"
    Koreumatsu v. United States ruled that internments of Japanese Americans was legal.
    Law enforcement did a superb job.
    They were non-reactive, non-escalating.
    Polite and respectful.
    Was able to get a smile out of this guy: )
    The sit in has begun.
    These guys were intimidating by virtue of costume, but also respectful and professional.
    Inspiring moment listening to speakers.
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    February 21, 2017

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    Somebody got up on the kitchen counter while the Dog-ma was out and made away with the better part of a large loaf of wholegrain bread. 
         The suspected culprit is a German Shepherd with a long enough nose to grab the loaf without difficulty.  Thankfully the dog had the good sense not to eat the plastic bag. But even so, later g.i. occurrences should be able to confirm liability beyond a reasonable doubt.
         And now we wait...
    Image description



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    February 20th, 2017

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         The two of us wrestled a long time this morning. Intense and frenetic, the way dogs do after several days of rain. Then I lay down, a flat-on-the–floor dog, worn out.  He went over and lap, lap, lapped at the water, and then came and stood over me, his snout dripping wet. I let him have his moment of mock triumph, and he let me lick the water from his chin.
         I want you to meet him. My best friend., my co-dog, my littermate-after-the-fact. He’s thirteen pounds to my eighty-five, with butterfly ears and an in-your-face manner.
         He’s my brother. My responsibility. My friend.
         This is Gadget.

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    Creativity, an Exposé

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    Looping and strange, that’s how I’d describe creativity.
     
    Looping because it isn’t linear, though bursts of it arrive straight out of nowhere, and produce something, start to finish. But looping means its always moving towards you or away from you, and that you can always catch the thread of it, or hop on the next time around.
     
    Strange because, well, it isn’t “regular” or “normal”, even though it is utterly common and every human has experienced it. But it has an oddness, a peculiarity. A weird sparkle, which produces a reciprocating shimmer in its audiences. It's contagious.
     
    Back to that hopping on next time around business. Just like sometimes you have to get on the wrong bus because it’s the only one running at that hour, and later you can transfer to the one you really want, sometimes with creativity you need to be a bit less particular. If your grand scheme has been thwarted, or has come to a disappointing, premature stop, you just hop on whatever’s running –a poem, a dance, a garden- and you ride that one a while. You’ll see, you’ll get where you’re going.
     
    Creativity is the enemy to some. Some who weren’t allowed, or who were made fun of. Kids told not to sing, or who watched other, more openly creative types called “freaks” or no-good, jobless hippies. You can understand their caution. And all of us fall prey to those oppressions of the mind. Those ferocious insinuations that we should be doing something “real.”
     
    Art is real. Craft is real. Creation is real.
     
    But our connection to it can be evanescent. Tenuous. Short-lived. Fickle. Succumbing to an inflated vanishing whimsy or a diabolical internal persecution. Because The Creativity Killer lurks around corners and in alleyways waiting for all of us. Even those born in the land of the flower children. (Secret Encoded Message: the Killer is called Judgment.)
     
    That’s why the first grab at the thread must be done gently, and maybe with a bit of stealth. Simply reach out slowly, and take the nearest loose end. Then, using a light squeeze between thumb and forefinger, ever so amiably, just give it a little tug.
     
    Creativity.
     
    It’s cousin is called “Magic.”

    L.H.
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    Dolly La's Bedtime Biscuits

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    They sure smell done to me!

    Dolly La's Bedtime Biscuits

    Preheat Oven to 375 degrees

    Ingredients
    Two cups high protein flour, like millet.
    One cup other type of flour, (whole wheat if you don't care about gluten free, rice flour if you do)
    One cup peanut butter
    1/2 cup rolled oats if you like
    ​1 tsp baking powder 
    1 cup water
    Optional: add 1/4 cup of ground flax seed to replace some of the flour and/or replace 1/2 of the water with a 1/2 cup pureed pumpkin or yams

    Mix it all up, roll it out, and use a cookie cutter or a cup to form into biscuits. 

    Bake on a greased sheet at 375 and make sure to turn over halfway through baking to cook on both sides.

    Cool on cooling rack before they find their way to happy doggy mouths!