The Mountain Mouth

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#LiveLikeJulia Emperor #1 August 30, 2013

                       I love food. I love cooking. I love life. I am Me, and do not conform.Image
That’s why, this month, I want to talk about Julia Child.
I met Julia Child on TV, but in the heat of adolescence, forgot about her, and food, until Dan Akroyd’s parody. I still pee my pants watching that.
I learned about food as an adult in the hippiefied atmosphere of Ashland Oregon, in 1976. Discovering sex and vegetables at the same time might explain my preference for a tomato from the garden versus a Big Mac to this day.
I met Karen Karbo, author of “Julia Child Rules” in my backyard, which at the time was a house five thousand feet up a mountainside in Kern CA. Karen had been visiting The Rankin Ranch since she came as kid, with her Dad. It was 2008 or so… K2 was there with The Man of the House, and a bunch of kids and cowboys whose legs, always encased in Wranglers, gleamed like a glaciers in the unfiltered Arctic sun.


My life appeared to be amazing. Acres of forest, a deep, clear pond, mustangs and chickens, shiny SUV’s and a two-story house that crowned the mountaintop. But I was caged, abused. I was a ferret that wished it could rip out its’ own throat. I had a “boyfriend” that was psychotic, a gun totin’ excitable, paranoid, faux survivalist; a narcissistic, controlling man-boy who could not tell the truth about anything.
I was thrilled to meet Karen but at the time was paralyzed in despair. I’m not worthy!”. But as others fetishize sport teams, fashion, music or whatever, I have a THING for writers.
So imagine my pure joy when Karen Karbo included me in the experimental group blog, #LiveLikeJulia.
Last Friday I was riding Reno, then I wasn’t. Down by the lakeshore, I fell hard, he galloped off – but came right back, and before the pain hit, I “got back in the saddle” and rode home.
Tonight I type bent over & whacked on pills, due to some broken ribs. I am stuck in a chair, for a while, so I might abuse this privilege with a tsunami of words.