It all depends on what IT really IS

By my way of thinking (and occasionally I do think before I blog) we live in a culture where the look of everything is more important than the core reality and function of the thing itself.

For instance, we are told that we should exercise and eat well for good health. Yet anyone who does this and still looks chunky is not regarded as healthy by the general observer, even though their health may be better than the skinny person standing next to them who exercises rarely and eats a quick donut and coffee for breakfast. It is all about the superficial look. Not the color of the skin and the healthy glow of the hair.

We envy that designer bag that is an ugly color and doesn't hold stuff very efficiently, but costs lots of money and sends the message that we are rich (and also stupid with our richness). It's not about what the bag does, but the message it sends.

We buy fruit in the grocery store that no longer tastes like freshly picked fruit with the juice of its season, but tastes like cardboard fruit. BUT the appearance of the fruit is perfect in color (maybe enhanced) and certainly perfect in shape. We don't tolerate any blemishes on those perfect orbs, while sacrificing freshness. It is about how it looks, not what it is.

We idolize athletes that win games and break records, yet they are running on steroids and metal pins and pain killers and braces. They are not exactly their original selves anymore.

We worship entertainment icons that are usually more plastic and toxic botoxed than real---especially the women. Their talent alone is not enough to hold our interest and our honor for their hard work. They must NEVER show their real age. We are amazed that pregnant celebrities are back in shape days after giving birth while real mothers actually look like the mothers they are--which is the real parent? (Watch British television for a refreshing change in making older people the primary characters in the television stories. They appear with their weight problems, faded teeth and all and BBC casts the younger people who actually look like the real girl or boy next door!)

And finally, the McMansions that we build are not to shelter our loved ones. They are hugh cavernous entities with specialized rooms that may never be used or never even furnished. It is not about the function of our dwellings anymore. A house is not a home.

(By the way, talking about reality vs image, did anybody see that terrible lip synching job Mariah Carey did at the Lions vs. Atlanta Falcons football game halftime? It all depends on what singing really is, I guess.)

Mixed Thanksgiving

I think most families find the holidays very mixed, at best. Relationships with relatives and in-laws are not perfect and so we try to be on our best behavior to make the holiday perfect. On top of that, we may see people we haven't seen in a year or more and want this time with them to be filled with the best of sharing while trying to run around and do all the other tasks at hand.

As I look back over my holidays while growing up, there were days with tears, days with resentment, days with fullness of feelings to the point of exhaustion. Most of my holidays were good, a few excellent, and a few (especially during my teens and twenties) filled with foot-in-mouth disease and anger.

Last week's Thanksgiving was at my daughter's. She invited the parents-in-law and my son (whom as you know I don't see often enough). The main attraction, besides football, was Xman, of course. He was on his best behavior, while being exhausted before the evening hours. My son was very affectionate to us, and both my husband and I were a little surprised at this since he is 25 and also a bit of a withdrawn person. I thought this over and think it was because he has not seen us in a little over a month, and he saw the change that age brings with time. I remember not seeing my parents for two years and flying home and feeling so shocked at the airport to see how old they had gotten while I was busy living my rich life. When you see someone weekly you don't notice these changes in them.

I had to cook only the sweet potato casserole and the sausage stuffing casserole. Everything else was done by my daughter! So that made the work insignificant on my part.

Another strange thing about this Thanksgiving was a call to my brother in Colorado to touch base with that side of the family. My sister and her family were there. My other brother and his wife are in Madagascar on a volunteer research project and not in attendance this year for the first time. My father has moved in with my brother in Colorado since the death of my mother this past spring, so this was the first Thanksgiving for them without my mother. I and my family played pass the phone to talk to all, except for my Dad. He wouldn't come to the phone saying he was too busy eating. I know that he wouldn't come because his hearing is so bad these days that phone conversations are very difficult for him, and this embarrasses him. He has always hated the phone, even when his hearing was fine. He will talk to my sister when she calls from Denver mid-day to check on him, but he is very comfortable with her and her voice. I am wondering if this means I may not speak to my father again before he dies...he is 91. They are talking about trying to get him out this spring to us when our new house is done. But, I know enough about life and its tweaks and turns, and that this visit may not happen.

As you can see, it was a very different Thanksgiving for me this year.

Epilogue to Life Story #2

As sometimes happens in life, an action or memory will be followed closely by a coincidental activity that makes you pause. Those of you who read my posting " Life Story #2" may be interested in something that we received yesterday in the mail. A distant relative of my husband's was going through her mother's things and came across the letter and enclosed photo above that was taken in front of Morro Castle. The letter was written by my mother-in-law regarding the infamous Cuba trip and now at least gives me a dated reference.
This photo above is just a little different than the one I posted, isn't it? The letter went on to say that Castro's two sisters who fought by his side were also at the hotel. She also wrote about the stories the Cubans told of Batista's cruelty and the details (if true--30,000 people tortured) which are just as awful as the details from Abu Graib and from Saddam's despotic rule. She wrote about a story she was told of 3 million dollars stashed in a graveyard as the revolution came down and an urn of Batista's that was filled with human eyeballs! The more things change the more they stay the same.

Egg Candy

This is a gift of "candy" from some Japanese colleagues. I am not fond of Asian sweets and I have a feeling that these will not surprise me when I taste them. The Japanese like raw eggs and these really look like raw eggs! At least the wrapping was beautiful and the thought was good. It was wrapped in pretty Japanese paper covering a box and then the plastic wrap which is shown and another layer of plastic covering over the actual tray of sweets.

(and later...)

Ok, the outside is sweet and as gelatinous smooth as it looks, The inside is powdery and grainy, exactly like the texture of a well-cooked egg yolk. Probably one of the most unusual foods I have eaten in a long time.

A Fall Walk in the Woods

Yesterday afternoon was too nice to stay indoors so I went for a walk in the woods just north of where I live. Most of the leaves were off the trees, but there were still some nice photos. Wandered through the grassy field to find soft green deer beds in the middle. The final picture of a tree in rock sure makes my life look easy.

This is not a Meme

If you are younger than 50 you probably don’t read Ronnie's blog. But she has been writing about ageing for many months now and if you are younger than 50 (including you 20-somethings) and you read blogs of those 'older' you should read her most recent post linked above. It has some great insight both from Ronnie and her other bloggers about blogging relationships.

I challenge those of you under 50 (or older) to post about blog friendship---not about those you know personally in your life, but about blog friends (any age) that you have made and why you think these friendships work for you at your time in life. Leave me a comment or link to your blog, so I can read this.

The blog friends that are my age inspire me, because we share common ideas, experiences and problems. I love the way we pat each other on the back and support each other as if we were old friends. I connect with those who have similar hobbies (gardening and photography, for instance) and look forward to exploring these more in-depth when I retire. I see similar challenges in our lives and this helps me focus on the big picture.

My blog friends that are younger add so much to my life, since I agree with Ronnie in that we wouldn’t have such an in-depth exchanges of ideas if we were sitting together at a dinner party or luncheon. Their cell phone, children, good-looking passersby, whatever, would be a distraction and interruption. I get to give unsolicited advice (a bad habit of mine) but I also get great perspective from them, energetic ideas, and they help me remember the challenges I faced when I was their age.

Blog mates that are older than me help me see what lies ahead and help me prepare for the next part of my life. They prove that while some parts of the body may be presenting new challenges, that old brain and personality can still shine through when we are not distracted by appearances. They also remind me about how healthy humor is.

And finally the bloggers that I connect with that live in other countries add a tremendous new kaleidoscopic beauty to the exchange of ideas and experiences over blogdom. I get to re-visit those areas of the world I have previously seen or see these places through different eyes. I also get to take a new trip to an area of the globe and have tea in the back garden with the blogger.

I guess what I love about blogging friendships the most is the opportunity to exhange ideas with the whole smorgasbord of the world. (And I love the Internet so that I can look up "kaleidoscopic" and "smorgasbord" since my poor typing can mask my terrible spelling for only so long.)

Make Your Life Count vs. Counting Your Life Away

The summer that I was twenty-one waiting to begin my first teaching job since graduating from college, I worked at a local K-Mart store. While I had worked in the past as a waitress, this was my first retail experience in a store working behind the register. It was a little stressful since over $100,000 crossed my register each week, and they regularly sent fake customers through the line to see how you were doing and to see if you caught one of them hiding jewelry in a winter coat pocket or some other little test. My supervisor was an attractive, petite woman a little over 60 years in age. She dressed very well, and I kept wondering why she worked there. I am now guessing her job was due to a divorce or sudden change in finances in her life. I remember her telling me that she was counting the days until she could retire. And then she wryly added, “This is kind of stupid, because my life is short enough, why do I want to wish part of it to go by faster?”

Driving down to the house the other day, my husband repeated one of his mantras…something like: “I don’t want to winterize the boat just yet; I’d like to squeeze in another outing before that. I only have 20 more years of this before I am too old to get out anymore.” This statement always takes me back, because I have no idea what he is picturing in his mind twenty years from now. I also find this kind of thinking very depressing. So, I don’t even go there. I just like to live each day as fully as I can…John Lennons “Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.” approach is fine with me.

Last Saturday night at my daughter’s house my son actually showed up for dinner. We hadn’t seen him in weeks. He had another cold and was low in energy. I told him he should sleep in this coming Sunday and should have slept in on Saturday so that he could repair his health instead of ‘jamming’ all day with his band. (He works nights.) He looked at me and said, “I have 52 weekends and I am not giving up anyone of them!”

Well, I have to take the garbage to the apartment shoot. I am going to count the steps there and magically will that number to be the amount of millions I will win when I buy a lottery ticket this weekend which should help me extend my life.

Fiddling with Paintshop

Blue Ridge Muse, manababies and others got me inspired this morning. Since I have nothing to say and since pictures speak louder than words...The grapes were cropped, made redder and I tried to sharpen the foreground which was blurred on the original. The others I just fiddles with all the artsy fartsy options in the software.

One Reason I Love My Husband or What Men Might Be Surprised to Find is Sexy

Hubby was at a lengthy meeting with scientists from Norway all day yesterday. This is a big meeting where a huge number of scientists in lots of disciplines from Norway come to meet and exchange ideas with scientists in the U.S. At the cocktail party last night hubby was talking to one of the high level administrators who asked him, "If there was only one day to spend in D.C. what should I see?" The answer that hubby gave him, surprised the visitor. Hubby didn’t recommend the Air and Space Museum or the Museum of Natural History or any of the popular art galleries.

Hubby said: "Washington D.C. has much to see and it would be hard to see it all in one day. But, I would recommend the following: The Roosevelt Memorial, the Jefferson Memorial and the Lincoln Memorial. Read the words carved in granite at each of these memorials, because they reflect the important ideas on which this country was founded. These ideas are what America is really about, and we will get back on that track someday."

Needless to say, this well-traveled Norwegian was surprised and impressed by my husband’s suggestion. I hope he follows up.

My favorite is the Roosevelt Memorial. Most people miss it because it is located at the West Basin Drive which is usually only frequented by tourists during the cherry blossom festival. This memorial covers a good amount of space with four outdoor 'rooms' or 'retreats' built from walls made of red South Dakota granite. It is a very peaceful and quiet place and creates an atmosphere where one can ponder the meanings of the words. It makes me smile to note that all of these words were written before I was born.

For those of you who cannot visit D.C. the quotes from FDR are too many to post but here are a few from each room (comments in parens after some quotes are, of course, my two cents):

ROOM ONE
"No Country, however rich, can afford the waste of its human resources. Demoralization caused by vast unemployment is our greatest extravagance. Morally, it is the greatest menace to our social order." Second Fireside Chat on Government and Modern Capitalism, Washington, D.C., September 30, 1934. (Those who are against funding work shelters for illegal immigrants need especially to read this!)

ROOM TWO
"I never forget that I live in a house owned by all the American people and that I have been given their trust." Fireside Chat on Economic Conditions, Washington, D.C., April 14, 1938. (Can you imagine GWB saying this instead of “I have a mandate.”?)

ROOM THREE

"We have faith that future generations will know that here, in the middle of the twentieth century, there came a time when men of good will found a way to unite, and produce, and fight to destroy the forces of ignorance, and intolerance, and slavery, and war." Address to White House Correspondents' Association, Washington, D.C., February 12, 1943

"They (who) seek to establish systems of government based on the regimentation of all human beings by a handful of individual rulers call this a new order. It is not new and it is not order." Address to the Annual Dinner for White House Correspondents' Association, Washington, D.C., March 15, 1941.

ROOM FOUR
"More than an end to war, we want an end to the beginnings of all wars." Undelivered Address prepared for Jefferson Day to be delivered April 13, 1945.

Where are the descendants of Roosevelt when you need them?

Road trip

They let me stop to catch a photo or two.

Here is a shot of the grape orchard.

This is the rockwall by the garden. Notice how it catches the heat in the late fall to hold the vegetable harvest.

There were a few grapes still on the vine.

Saturday was nice with cold winds occasionally moving gray clouds overhead causing cold shadows to cross our paths. My husband had to pick up the small outboard motor that had been repaired after taking a swim in the Great Dismal last weekend---another story. We (my daughter who has cabin fever and who's husband is in Vegas at a bachelor party for the weekend---another story and rude comment on my part) and I wanted to head out to the wineries north of us. We have never taken any wine tours or tastings and decided to hit three of the local places.

Between picking up the small outboard motor, and then having to find a grocery store to triple wrap the motor in heavy duty garbage bags because of the gas fumes (which oddly enough did not bother my husband, just my daughter and I) we ended up with a late day start. You would not believe how strange we looked by the side of a country road wrapping something the size of a small child in garbage bags. I am amazed that no one called Homeland Security and that we were not pulled over later. Several cars drove by as the drivers gave us odd glances.

The local wineries we visited are small places that have not yet developed a reputation. The character and flavor of the wines were as unpredictable as the weather. Sometimes we were cold and sometimes warm. The wines were sometimes fair and sometimes pretty mediocre, but we were having fun, so didn't really care. Everyone was patient and let me stop and take a few photos which I posted above.

I want to die.

(I have had a really shitty week at the office. That isn’t a four letter word, and I wish it was because that is how mad I am. If and when I cool down, I may blog about it. But today I need to write about something lighter.)

Like d-e-a-t-h.

I was reading “WIRED” magazine, which because of its scope, one would think is primarily for geeks. “WIRED delivers the intelligence readers need on the topics that matter most: Technology and innovation. Science and medicine. Business and global politics. Arts and culture. The best new products and more.” I mean, it does contain color pictures of Ashlee Simpson and Lindsey Lohan, BUT they are carrying Ipods or Blackberries or something like that. ANYWAY, I ramble. The article that caught my eye in the latest issue was about death. Actually not death, but what happens after death. The new technologies that have been developed are changing the way we die. I am not talking about cryopresevation. That is Old Hat.

The New Hat is getting cremated and becoming jewelry. I mean if the old man didn’t buy you something nice when he was alive, he can make up for it when he dies! A company called Life gem will turn your dear ones remains into something you can wear around your neck, or over your heart, or well, you know. Certainly more practical than sitting on a mantel in a jar which you have to dust!

If that seems too crass for your tastes, how about reincarnation? Sort of. You can return to earth as a tree. A group of enterprising young men are working on inserting your DNA into a live tree DNA and making magic happen. I think I would like to return as a giant sequoia or a giant banyan tree to shelter all the little critters. I do forsee issues if those that live on after you are not good plant people. I mean maybe the niece that hated you pours hot coffee on your trunk every morning. Of course, if your dog pees on you, that might be good. If you decide to be a fruit tree, would your relatives feel comfortable eating the fruit? This requires some thought.

And finally for the real nature lovers who read this blog, you can have a truly ecological burial. Promessa says they have been working on this process for years. They have been studying composting and cultivation. And you will be returned as “a valuable contribution to the living earth.”

Well, I couldn’t stop with just this information. I did some more Googling and found that you can give away rubber memorial bracelets at the funeral as well. (Everyone else seems to be into this rubber bracelet thing).

Enough food for thought? I feel better already.

Life Story #3

As I promised (threatened) a while back I would tell you how my first lengthy trip to Yap became dangerous.

First, let me tell you a little about the island and its culture when I visited there about 35 years ago---geeze am I THAT old? Anyway, the island of Yap is part of a group of loosely federated islands in the South Pacific. During the time I was there the islands were part of a Commonwealth and under the protection of the United States. They used our mail system, our judicial systems, our airlines, etc. Their primary product was copra which is dried coconut and used to make coconut oil. They also had smidgen of tourism, mostly SCUBA divers. Since that time some of the islands groups of Micronesia have gone ‘independent’ or to other forms of affiliation with the U.S. You can go here if you want more about that sort of thing.

When we lived in Micronesia the people held some resentment toward Americans, they probably still do. There was the feeling that America was trying to be a ‘parent’ to full grown children. This resentment varied in intensity from island to island as the people were slightly different in culture and very different in language. Back in the 1970s there was only one small hotel in each of the district centers; the roads were unpaved coral fill and rutted from the increase of automobiles on the islands; there were no food stores as we know them--maybe a bread bakery; and only an open market with a small variety of vegetables being sold. The expatriates that lived on the islands imported their exotic foods from Guam. This might have added to the island resentment.

Our project involved accompanying a marine biologist to the island of Yap to implement a reef survey. The growth of interest in Yap, primarily as a transit port, brought about interest in building a larger airport on the island. The island, while small, had a shallow reef area near one end that could be filled and paved for jet traffic. Yes, I know, today that sounds like using your backyard for a bathroom. But, at that time, people did not understand the rareness of these ecosystems and the importance of protecting a society’s culture. The islands were viewed as possible resources by the U.S.

Our marine biologist was a 6’2” good looking hunk from the University of Hawaii. He could have been a lead in a movie. He was charming and smart. My husband, I and Leading Man landed on the island and went to the village of Colonia. We checked into the tiny hotel, changed clothes, got our snorkel gear and procured a dusty and sad-looking rental jeep. We headed out to the other side of the island to look at the reef. I was along for the ride, since I know nothing about airport engineering, marine biology or anthropology. It took us some effort to find the place as we got lost in a few villages along the way and had to ask for directions. Clearly we were a rare site as most of the locals stared at us. I have no idea if they knew why we were there or not. My husband and I were fairly new to the islands and realized later that we would have been much better off taking an elder with us on this jaunt.

We had to park the jeep on the other side of a small village of about 6 grass huts and cut around the jungle to the coastal side. It was a lovely open coast and you could see the reef extend for a long way out to the ocean. We didn’t really need the snorkel gear because the water was so shallow for such a long way. I can’t remember what notes and photos Leading Man took because I was poking along the deeper side of the reef, which has always been a love of mine. After a little over an hour, our researcher was ready and we headed back to the jeep. As we crossed through the jungle and approached the grass huts a native in traditional thong and with a 6 foot fishing spear in his hand started talking loudly to us. His eyes were red and his gate with a little unsteady. We realized he was probably drunk and hurried to the jeep to avoid any confrontation. Another native approached him and appeared to be trying to calm him down. We didn’t know what they were saying, but the body language was clear. A third man joined them.

We got in the open jeep, hubby in the back seat and me in the front next to Leading Man. Unfortunately we had to back up to turn into the open area leading to the rutted road. This gave the angry native time to catch up to us. As Leading Man stopped backing and turned the wheels, the man with the spear ended up within arms-length of my side of the jeep. He continued the lecturing and was working himself up into a good anger finally talking in a broken-English. He was mad we were there and clearly felt as if we had trespassed in his living room. Leading Man talked to him in English and tried apologetically to get him to calm down. Within seconds of this exchange Leading Man was reading the native’s body language expertly and managed to place his hands over the keys in the jeep ignition just as the native lunged for them across my knees. My heart was in my throat as this angry character was inches from my face. The native got the rental’s logo key chain, but not the keys, thank goodness. The situation immediately escalated and Leading Man gunned the jeep as we spun sand and headed to the road at full speed. I looked back as we hit the road and saw the native throwing his spear and missing the back of the jeep by only a few feet. Whew!

Talk about needing a drink when we got back to Colonia!

Anything I Can Add to This Is Trivial

I have not blogged for a few days since I have been in a slump.

We got a call from a colleague of ours in Florida. He is a PhD researcher who is dedicated and hard working. He is also very quiet in personality. He is small in stature but has a gentleness about him that makes you think of the old fashioned word "gentleman." His wife is a veterinarian and tall and statuesque. They have one of the sweetest little guys for a son. Actually, since we had dinner with them almost five years ago, this little guy is no longer a baby, but probably a schooler. I have never seen such a transformation in this quiet researcher. He actually smiles and gets excited about this son of his. Here is the news...they are still working on fixing the damage to their home from the devastating hurricane season in Florida last year. He has now lost his job. It is not clear what the issue was, because he had a 9 million dollar investor ready to put forward some research money a few years ago. Jobs for researchers at private institutions are tenuous at best. He worked there for almost 10 years. He now has a job at a local community college and is working about 50 hours a week for about $200 take home each week! This is not enough bad luck for them it appears. His wife's partner in their verterinary business has left the state after embezzling everything. The wife is being forced to sell her business to pay the remaining debt! I am sick to the pit of my stomach and keep trying to think of ways to help. I wish I had won the lottery this week.

Then a few days ago L., who is the cleaning woman who works in my office, came to me with the good news that after 10 years of work and thousands of dollars in paper processing (some of which I have helped her with over time), her daughter is going to get a 6-month visa to visit the U.S. L. has not seen her daughter since she left El Salvador when her daughter was only 4 or 5. The girl is now 18! L. is so excited about this and plans to save and send her to a private school to learn English and then to college here. Such enterprising and hard working parents this young woman has. Well, with the good always comes the bad it seems. The daughter has been living with her grandmother all this time. The grandmother has all of her children here in the U.S. A few days ago (probably due to the stress of her grandchild leaving) the grandmother appears to have had a stroke and is now in the hospital. The young girl is, of course, begging her mother to let her stay in El Salvador longer so that she can take care of her grandmother. And L. is so sad that she cannot take time from work to go see her mother in the hospital. Again I wish I had won the lottery.

And you think you have problems. Sorry, better blogging next time.

The Reward

I made a deal with hubby that if he helped vacuum and make the bed while I cleaned the kitchen, I would reward him with a canoe trip. I tell you, one would think I had promised an afternoon of wanton sex. He was on that vacuum cleaner like a snail on lettuce and zooming around our apartment. We were spanking clean in no time and took off down one of our nearby rivers by noon. The photo above is deceptive. There were some strong gusts at times almost blowing the canoe into the weeds. We had to keep our paddles in the water much of the time, but when we were going downwind, it was a most rewarding day.




Due to bird migration, many of the birds were gathering and endlessly chattering. They roosted in the trees and also on the grasses in the marsh. They were mostly redwing blackbirds shown in the first photo. They would fly overhead in the hundreds (thousands?) exploding like a fireworks display in circles or at other times undulating like a rollercoaster wave of fish schooling. We also saw a red tail hawk (I think) fly over our canoe and as you can see, I also caught an airplane. I actually didn't see the plane when I took the photo. We saw ducks, and of course, high above us, noisy geese honking.


This last photo was taken as we got to the dock and were unloading the gear. It is a man and his two dogs, looking like they were having a wonderful time. Unfortunately, I think he was hunting birds since we had heard shotgun fire a little earlier in the day.. The dogs were wet -- probably from retrieving. But it was picturesque anyway and the dogs were clearly in heaven.

We had company for part of the weekend

When the "youngins" were childless, they rarely spent any time at the big house. We would see them every few months. But remember I said that when your kids have kids, they sometimes become your new best friends...so don't move too far away. Here they are crammed into the small living room of the apartment. But they ARE precious.

Pay Your Rent!

Living in an apartment building requires some moments of compromise. One has to accept the fact that meatloaf smells at ten in the morning can be jarring. Popcorn smells from across the hall at 10:00 in the evening require tremendous self-control as you sit watching television just before you head to bed.

You have to accept the fact that you should not try to carry a huge basket of dirty laundry out into the hallway without checking the status of the one washer and dryer available on your floor.

And finally, you must be patient with the next door neighbor whose phone ringer is set a little shrill and which seems to ring off the wall day after day. Just because she has more friends than you is not a reason to hate her.

At the end of September there were a number of yellow forms taped to the inside windows of the entry way to the foyers of the various apartment buildings. When I went to read them, I noticed that they were eviction notices. A few weeks later, furniture and personal belongings were placed near the street for some of these evictions.

I understand that the landlord has to meet expenses and canÂ’t provide free housing for people, but why are they not evicting all the tenants that don'’t pay? For instance, we have a tenant that lives above us. A noisy tenant. They (he/she) seem(s) to be moving furniture at the end of every day, are always jumping and running around, and really disturbing when eating since they eat just above our dining table. They are pretty quiet in the daytime, but keep very late hours. I have called the business office about this tenant months ago---and they said they would get right on it. Well, the noise continues. How do I know the tenant isn'’t paying? One reason is that they sneak in and out instead of using the elevator. I have never seen them. Second reason, is that there is no apartment above our apartment. This is the space beneath the roof of the building. They must be very small in order to live in that three foot high space. I want them out of here! Dump all their nuts out on the street like they do with everyone else!

Stream of Consciousness Sleeplessness

I hit the top button on the alarm clock and the sickly blue light permeates the bedroom. If I sit up on one elbow I can see that the current time is 2:10 A.M.

Damn! Why did I wake up? I thought I was having a nice dream.

Pillow is too warm so I turn it over to the cool side and lay back down.

Darn, now it will take me forever to fall asleep again. I have that committee meeting in the afternoon. I hate that meeting. I should wear something nice and professional so I look on top of things. I’ll probably fall asleep in the middle of it. Go to sleep…go to sleep….

Nice talking to Son after dinner. Wonder why he finds it so hard to call us? That cold of his doesn’t sound good. Hope it isn’t something more serious. I should have reminded him to use antibacterial hand cream. He looked heavy last time I saw him. He needs to get more exercise. I hope he has some kind of social life with that horrible work schedule of his. I wonder if he is dating anyone.

Did I flip the deadbolt on the front door? I should get up and check it, but then I will really be awake. Go to sleep…

I’ve got to remember to get a new pot for the plant at work. Must do that on Saturday, but I also need potting soil. Where will I transplant it? In front of the apartment building?

Must remember to call or email to coordinate builder and inspection guy…I’ll ask hubby to do that tomorrow.

We’ve got to finalize the kitchen cabinets. Why doesn’t that kitchen guy call us for another meeting? He should be back from his honeymoon by now. I still want to talk to a kitchen designer. I am not comfortable in having a 30-something newly wed ex-marine planning my kitchen cabinets. Damn. …Calm down now. GO TO SLEEP!!!

How can he sleep like that? He is dead to the world. I want that kind of sleep.

Is that rain I hear? What will I wear tomorrow? Has to be something that I can wear in the rain I guess. Maybe I should get up and blog…like that would help me sleep. Ha.

“Take a deep breath and release it slowly. Totally relax all your muscles. Start counting backwards from 100. …………….2-1-0”

Geese, I’m still awake. Now I have to pee and I also am getting thirsty.

I throw back the covers and surrender to the gods of destiny as I head first to the bathroom and then to the kitchen.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Daughter and I spent the day shopping for some fall clothes. We both needed winter coats so went to a nearby outlet mall that had lots of choices. We brought along Xman to provide comment as well.

Daughter was trying on a black wool coat and was looking in front of a full length mirror that was across the aisle from all the coats. When she went back to get another coat, I picked up Xman from the stroller and took him in front of the mirror to entertain him. I looked at him in the mirror and noticed something odd, but thought maybe it was just my old age vision. I called my daughter over and told her to look at Xman's face in the mirror and she noticed it too.

His chubby round baby face looked oval and definately less chubby in the mirror. That was when we realized that we both looked so much thinner in these new winter styles than last year. We just needed to bring this mirror home with us. Sneaky store.

Tonight's Dinner

since you asked.

I bought a selection of lamb loin. It was already sliced very thin and elegantly as the Asians do so well. I marinated it in a Korean barbeque marinade. This comes in a package which I mix with water and has LOTS of garlic. It would taste the best over a grill, but we are grill-deprived these days. Then we are cooking some oriental egg noodles in salted water.

I also purchased those lovely small eggplants that are always better when purchased at the Korean market for some reason. They get sliced and pealed and then fried lightly in a corn oil with sesame oil and I make a sauce of soy, water, sugar, sesame seeds, and kaffir lime leaves chopped which I pour over the eggplant.

This is dinner with a nice white wine. It stinks up the kitchen big time, but tastes good.

Sex in the city

It was a long late afternoon after work on Thursday that we had dedicated to food shopping. We went to the Korean Supermarket first. We hadn’t been there in months and bought such luxuries as curry mixes, kefir lime leaves and rambutan. Then we headed to the local little market closer to the apartment that still is grandfathered to sell wine with their food in this Puritanical state. Upon our return to the apartment we had a dozen bags to haul up to the fifth floor, and we used my former MIL’s carry basket on wheels which I store in the trunk of the car—we are now officially old people as a result of this.

We put all the good new food away and then decided to walk to the nearby Chinese restaurant for dinner even though astonishingly angry gray clouds were racing across the sky above. If you remember this is one of the best Chinese restaurants I have ever eaten in and it is in WALKING distance of where I now live. After our delicious meal (mine Ginger, chicken and scallions and hubby something really unhealthy and fried) we asked for a doggy box and carried the leftovers back to the apartment.

Upon approaching the building from across the parking lot we heard an alarm bell. When we reached the back door of the lobby the alarm was clearly a fire alarm and we saw about 20 people standing in the driveway outside the front door of the lobby. (We had seen two police cars parked there when we arrived to take up groceries earlier and ignored them.)

After talking to our apartment neighbors out the front, the result of all this activity was 1) a domestic dispute (thus the police cars) and 2) someone on the first floor baking bread and then burning it and setting off the fire alarm. The possible fire is a real issue among those who have lived here since last year, because an elderly couple died last year due to a fire in another building on this complex. Still, there are a lot more than 20 people that live in our building, so, some folks were willing to chance being fried, I guess.

It was an interesting watching my husband operate as we headed through the lobby and to the outside at the front of the building. My hubby immediately chatted up the two chickies that live on our floor. One a blue-eyed blonde from Ohio and one a Philipino Hawaiian from Hawaii. They are both law students at one of the nearby colleges and really sweet girls. He now knows at least 12 people that live in our building and I must admit that I know no one. I smile and chat briefly on the elevator, but never to the point of actually getting to know names and lives. Good thing I married him or I would be the loneliest person on the planet.

Anyway, all the tired, dirty and equipment laden firefighters from the TWO engines that showed up let us back in after about 30 minutes as they returned to the street—(No, not one of them looked like the guys on those calendars, and that was a disappointment on my part. God gives hubby the chickies and I get dumpy men and women in baggy gear.)

Living in the city is pretty interesting sometimes for some of us.

Don't Hate Me Just Because I'm Beautiful

Well, Hubby talked me into following him on his next business trip. I really didn't want to go. When I tell you where, you will hate me. But, I have been there so many times as well as lived there for a year and at least one of the weeks of the trip is totally business for hubby so, I will be spending most of my time reading books on a beach--egad. Yet, again as my daughter reminded me, this is where we met and fell in love. What kind of a cold fish am I anyway? Certainly not a romantic, am I.

OK, enough suspense. The first two weeks in December, I will be heading out to the Hawaiian Islands of Maui, Kauai, the big Island and Hawaii.

But, guess what? If you promise not to be jealous, I will take you with me. I will journal entry each stop and take lots of photos. I will look for Internet cafes, but don't really have a laptop to take, so maybe have to write a journal and send it all later.

At least my blog mates in Japan and Germany may enjoy this. I hope.

In Honor of the Gentle People

I was looking for my Bali trip photos during the time we lived in those islands, but I think they are probably in slide format and in storage. Balinese people are a gentle and artistic society and a small corner of the world that deserves this violence the very least of ALL of us. They absorb cultures as they move through and adapt. This photo is the only one I could find from that time and is my baby girl taking Balinese dancing lessons.

Guess what we did this weekend?

Babysat on Friday so that the married couple could visit their friend who just has a little baby. Babysat on Saturday night so that the married couple could take an old friend out to dinner. Then Sunday went with daughter to the pumpkin fields!

Waiter, There's a Blattella in My Soup!

Can you trigger a bad experience by talking about a similar bad experience? Well, maybe so.

Hubby was explaining his difficulty in finding healthy food while at a rural meeting in South Carolina recently. The hotel restaurant was not appealing and expensive so his team headed for a local popular restaurant in the town. He looked through the menu and found out that everything on it was fried. I mean, he likes fried food but that is the problem. Finally his eyes settled on the following entrée - “Grilled chicken breast with roasted red potatoes and garden fresh zucchini.” This had to be healthy, right? So he ordered it. Guess what arrived. He got a grilled chicken breast, yep. Only thing is that it was covered about a half-inch thick with some kind of glutinous white gravy. He looked at the roast potatoes and they were first BATTER fried and then roasted and of course, you have guessed that the zucchini was also batter covered and fried. So much for a healthy meal.

Now, he was telling me this story as we pulled into a mall to eat after our builders meeting. The mall appeared to be only a few years old and had the traditional chain restaurants. I was craving a margarita and so we selected the chain On the Border. (Now, just so I don’t get sued, we have eaten at this same chain in a different location and found the food quite respectable along with the other services.) This time was a little different.

I ordered my margerita and the waitress asked if I wanted a “large or small.” This should have been my first clue, as I don’t usually frequent places that ask this question. When she told me how large the large was, my old-age judgment kicked in (along with my husband’s dirty look) and I ordered the small.

The drink arrived along with our order. I sipped the drink and it seemed a little bland and lemonadey – (this isn’t a word, so I don’t know how to spell it.) I am a picky, picky person about my margeritas and years ago realized the only place to get a good tasting kicker drink such as this is in Mexico, so I sighed and accepted that fact. Then the waitress started pulling the grilled steak and onions off the hot platter that she brought. She asked if I wanted onions and I said, “Yes.” (of course.) My husband also had onions with the entrée he ordered. We soon discovered that these onions had been left too long on the shelf or were picked green or something as they were chewy and dry! Ick. When the manager with the bleached teeth smile came by our table, we mentioned that he needed a new produce supplier as the onions were pretty much inedible. He apologized but didn’t give me the impression he gave a flipping you know what.

I continued to nurse my drink finding it blander and blander when the waitress brought another margerita. I looked up in surprise and clarified with her that I had not ordered a second drink.

“I know.” She said. “The bartender accidentally made two, so instead of letting it go to waste, I decided to bring it.”

Oh, I thought. I put the first drink aside and sipped the second. It actually had essence of tequila and I said to my hubby. “You know what? I think the idiot bartender forgot the tequila in the first drink and sent out this second drink so I wouldn’t complain.”

We continued through the rubbery onions, acceptable steak, and less-bland drink when something caught the corner of my eye. It was a Blattella germanica moving down the wall and toward the table. I am so very familiar with these having lived for years in the tropics. As this little brown nugget proceeded to cross the table toward me I put down my fork and napkin and immediately moved to the waiting bench near the front door of the restaurant, explaining the situation to hubby. I didn’t return.

When hubby called for the bill he elaborated on why I had left, and wouldn’t you know it? They didn’t offer us anything - not a free meal, a % off our bill, a free dessert, nothing. We could have been obnoxious and not paid the bill and let all the customers in the restaurant know the type of place they were eating in, but we aren’t that type. We just won’t eat at that chain again in any new areas!

The moral is don’t tell bad restaurant stories before you eat out.

Martha, Martha, Martha

I have to admit that I never really liked Martha Stewart as a personality. I didn't watch her old show on TV and the few times that a friend gave me an old copy of her expensive magazine, I never found much in it that I had time to try or could afford to try. She was always a little too D.A.R. stuffy for my tastes. The smile was polite but cold and she never looked real, even in gardening boots.

I was talking to a co-worker (a hippie-guy) about coffee the other day. I said that I read somewhere that French press coffee was supposed to be the best way to make coffee and I had found that true after testing it myself. I even found it better than espresso coffees I would buy at the restaurants in Italy. He laughed and said that I must agree with Martha Stewart, because he saw her 'coffee' show. But he explained that she always has to make things more complicated than necessary. She boiled her water and added her coffee but instead of letting it sit for 3 minutes she insisted that you had to stir it for 4 minutes---stirring coffee for 4 minutes is not the way I want to start my morning!

Well, I have started to watch her new afternoon show on The Learning Channel (not The Apprentice TV show which I hear is bombing.). She comes on at 6:00 when I am cooking dinner and it is a nice distraction. I cannot tell you how she has changed or how her real self has burst through or maybe prison has made her go a little crazy! She had P-Diddy on as one guest and was making "wraps" like dough wraps, wrapping paper, and of course, she even got down a little with him and his music. It was the funniest show! She was very comfortable, witty and kept things totally unawkward, even when P-Diddy held his dough wrap and stuffed it exactly as if it was a joint saying "I know how to do this!"

On another show the guest was Marcia Cross from desperate Housewives who plays a Martha Stewart type character. Well, Marcia clearly doesn't know how to cook and is really the opposite of the character she plays and making scrambled eggs with Martha Stewart was a such comedy of errors that kept the audience laughing.

Stewart comes across as that perfect witty hostess. She appears to be very knowledgeable about things that have nothing to do with being a hostess with the mostess and therefore, can appear with characters such as David Spade who appeared dressed just like her.

Of course, she still hypes each and every one of her K-Mart products with give aways and also advertises her evening show The Apprentice-Martha Stewart during the banter. Her TV studio is huge with lots of kitchen gear. In her personality change, she clearly hasn't lost her drive to make money.

Another Lovely Fall

I took this picture about three years ago when we took a long fall weekend in West Virginia. It is not the high resolution version, I couldn't find that one. But, I think it does look a little like a greeting card and it makes me excited for the coming weeks.

What's a Metrosexual ?

Daddy is definitely a metrosexual and never leaves the house without product in the hair and the perfect sport shirt. Looks like Xman has inherited his dad's genes and already has an opinion on what he wears. Actually I kind of agree that they look monkey-vomit-green!

Lazy Weekend

Don't stick your tongue out at your grandson!

After breakfast with our plastic surgeon (in his early 40's and not married, ladies) hubby went fishing and Ween and I proceeded to complete her SIX loads of laundry. After several hours of running between the laundry rooms on the floors we got clothes folded and back into numerous laundry baskets and containers.

Then we headed out to the large home store and she looked for faucets for the new sink and shower in her basement (which is still just a dark concrete room). She was lucky and found something almost immediately. We did some more looking and then treated ourselves to a pumpkin spice drink at Starbucks. We headed home to a dinner that hubby prepared from freshly caught fish and harvested oysters. Yum. Then some great ice cream and we watched the DVD Cold Mountain.

Slept in this morning as did Xman. Hubby prepared a breakfast of pecan pancakes (Yes, I do cook and you are right, I don't deserve him.) He packed for his week-long trip to New York and we headed out for shopping at the wine, make-up, blinds and Pier 1 Imports stores. I got the pillow below as my "inspiration" for developing the colors in my master bedroom. I have long wanted a sunset and/or fall color scheme and this pillow seems to represent that.

Saturday Musings

Got up early this morning as my hubby had an "interview"” with a plastic surgeon. Hubby has decided that he does not want to retire cold turkey and his office is not amenable to letting him retire and come back part-time. So he is looking at CEO-’ing a project headed up by an M.D. with friends with money. I would someday like to be in the position where I have so much money that I NEED to invest it somewhere--not have to FIND money to invest somewhere.

Years ago Bill Cosby'’s TV show joke was that the black upper class TV family on his show were not rich "“because they all went to work for their money. Rich people have money work for them!"

Anyway, we took him to breakfast at a nice chain restaurant nearby that has huge and fairly well-prepared breakfasts and talked "“turkey." (Must have poultry on the mind today.) Actually it was some other animal, but I am trying to stay somewhat anonymous on this site. The doctor is in his forties, tall and attractive and did I say he was a face surgeon? (Yes, ladies, I am thinking what you are thinking.)

Well, this all is in the very earliest stages since it requires a very long process to get this thing up and running. So, this meeting was just a get-to-know-you first-date type of meeting. The two of them went off fishing and I am sitting in the apartment waiting for my sweet daughter and little one so that I can help them do laundry. (Remember her stupid idea to gut and remodel the basement shortly after Xman was born?)

Once that gets done, —which should take at least a couple of hours, our day is free. Maybe we will do something cool? (Remind me to tell you about my daughter's most recent plans for an Italy trip. This also needs some tweaking in the planning.)

Life Story #2

One of the joys of living a long time is that you have a lot of life stories to carry you through the years. The story that goes with this picture above is not mine. It is my husband's, and since he doesn't blog (he can barely use the computer), I get to tell it.

This picture was taken in Cuba sometime in 1959 or maybe early 1960. Those of you that know your history realize that this was the year that Fidel Castro took over the Cuban islands driving out Batista in the Cuban revolution. The picture is of my husband with his mother and father in front of a fort somewhere on one of the islands. Here is the story of how they got to Cuba and what happened after they got there.

My husband's family lived in Florida at this time. They went to one of those fun beach parties which had some contests with prizes. Since my father-in-law was in real estate this was probably a company party. One of the contests was a 'limbo' contest. I am not going into details about limbo (look it up.) Anyway, hubby was very limber and youthful then as you can tell from his body build in the photo above and he WON the contest. The prizes were a bottle of Cuban rum, and even more significant, a trip to Cuba.

His parents were certainly surprised when he ran up to them with this good news. As soon as they could they made their arrangements for this trip and flew to Cuba. Their hotel was one of those beautiful hotels with marble everywhere. They were certainly confused to see collections of rifles in the marble urns at the entrance to the hotel, though. They were also surprised to see so many revolutionary soldiers in the streets and so many weapons being carried about. But the hotel staff greeted them warmly and acted normally and checked them into their room. This put them at ease. While they were in the lobby they saw Castro and Che, et al. When they asked the desk clerk about the all the activity he told them about a new government in Cuba. They spent one day in Havana and the next day left for Isle of Pines.

After checking into the hotel at the Isle of Pines, they went down to the dining room at the dinner hour. They were very surprised to see that the tables in the dining room had been arranged into one long table for Castro and his "generals" and one tiny table in the corner for them! Of course, they were a little uncomfortable as they crossed the room in front of Castro and his contingent and proceeded to be seated. Then to their surprise Castro waved his arms to the waiters and insisted that the American tourists join him at the head of his table!

My husband's father (and my husband also) are gregarious and friendly people. So the evening was filled with lots of drinking and laughter; and god, I wish I had been there. Hubby said Castro was a very interesting and good host.

My husband had persuaded his parents to arrange a fishing trip for him...the love he has clearly had since birth. The next day my husband awoke early for his fishing trip and as he headed out, pole in hand, toward the dock to meet with his fishing guide, a jeep with Che Guevera in it passed him and stopped. Che asked where hubby was going and hubby explained.

"Get in." said Che. Hubby didn't hesitate since there was a man standing through the open roof of the jeep with some impressive weapon in his hand.

The jeep proceeded to the dock, but since Che and his buddies were also going fishing, they insisted that hubby join them on their boat instead. Their boat was much, much nicer anyway. Never one to pass up an opportunity, the twelve-year-old boy jumped in their boat and spent the entire day out fishing. They didn't return until well after dark.

When hubby got back to the hotel he found his dad drunk at the bar and both mad and terrified at not knowing where his son had gone for the day since the fishing guide was still there.

The next day they returned to Havana for one final day of sightseeeing before heading back to Florida. Imagine their surprise upon checking into their hotel in Havana when they found it was the headquarters for Fidel and his 'army.' Fidel was meeting with his generals there that night!

Hubby's parents had arranged for a trip to the local tourist nightclub (I really think it was called the Tropicana) for a floor show that evening. They had reservations for a very good table center front stage. Things got a little creepy when after being seated, the couples at the tables on either side of them were replaced by men who certainly looked like revolutionaries. That night they were starting to be glad the vacation was coming to an end.

The next day at the airport before departure they were separated for a security check and hubby said his mother indicated she had NEVER been searched as fully as she had that day. They made it safely back to Florida and only years later realized how close they had been to history.

Fun trip, huh?

Salt and Peppa!!

I had been pretty depressed about the prejudice that became so obvious in Katrina's aftermath. I am one of those stubborn liberals that refuse to believe anyone could be so stupid, afraid and heartless as to ignore or deny someone help based on their background. When I read some of the accounts I ended up feeling guilty as if these were my brothers and sisters (i.e. Barbara Bush's comments) reflecting me and my beliefs.

Well, shortly after that we went to a free jazz concert that was part of our community's revitalization efforts and also a last minute support for the Katrina revitalization.

There were some wonderful jazz groups such as Marcus Johnson who kept me moving. The headliner was Winton Marsalas. The night was perfect, warm and sexy, the moon was almost full and smile-beaming to the beat in the sky. We ended up standing on the third floor of the parking garage as we could see the stage better, had a wonderful breeze, excellent sound and could people-watch the audience on the space below us.

I noticed that it was a very diverse audience of thousands of people. The majority of our community is black, some poor, but not as poor as New Orlean's citizens. I saw black and white faces in about equal numbers, young and old, children and grandparents and dogs. Everyone was in a gentle and friendly mood. A 50-something black man adopted my husband and proceeded to spend a good part of the time befriending him. Yes, he was three sheets to the wind (the black man), but he wasn't obnoxious. My husband who is a non-drinker was the perfect gentlemen to this.

Even the people who were visiting from Israel and standing behind us talking about how they really didn't like jazz finally drifted away and we enjoyed a langourous enjoyment of "Down by the Riverside."

I left that concert thinking that this is what America is supposed to be about. Accepting our differences and finding that common ground, in this case jazz, baby, jazz, and sharing our love of it.

Sleepless in the Mid-Atlantic

I went to bed completely exhausted about 9:00 PM and was in deepest slumber by 9:15---didn't even hear hubby sneak into bed after Monday night football. Now it is 1:30 and I am wide awake. Same thing happened last night! I can't quite put my finger on the reason I have been having sleep problems lately. My life is morphing so much now, that I am sure this has something to do with it. I am a grandmother for the first time, I am approaching retirement, I am building a house, I am apartment living in the city for the first time in decades...all of this is changing and challenging me. But, this restlessness occurs mostly on the week nights, so the insomnia probably relates more to job stress than anything else.

As I wrote a while back, my work program is morphing also. I spent late yesterday in a meeting with others (one pompous ass that should retire ASAP, two gung-ho young technical writers and PR types, and one career woman about my age) meeting to plan how to meld my program's public image with another new progam web-wise. We must have one consistent approach. They have the budget now, so I have to be realistic about the direction of things. But, it takes tremendous patience not to scream when they spend hours discussing the aspects of the subject area...since they are each learning about it for the first time. I know the history, I know the customers, I know the accomplishments, I know the issues. But, I have to let them try to figure out how to prioritize because I can't take my marbles and go home. I have no marbles. (Marbles being money...not brains although sometimes I think that is open for discussion as well.)

They recognize that I have decades of work in this subject area and at least five years of work with this particular department. It is just that they come with a political/policy agenda and I come with an education/research agenda. So, we have different goals and approaches. You can't really teach an old dog new tricks. You can just update their act and add it to yours.

Tomorrow I have a stupid two-day training class for three hours each in a general apsect of my subject area. I only signed up because I was making an effort to learn new tricks, but I am sure I will come from this not having learned much new. Make me wrong, please.

Feeling a little grouchy like this 'bear' in the woods.

A Day of Start and then Start Again

Today was appliance shopping as my builder told me we couldn't fit the refrigerator/freezer that I had already selected easily into the kitchen. I think he is wrong and am asking for a kitchen designer, because a refrigerator is a VERY important appliance that is used daily and I want to be able to use the one I picked. We went to one of those large everything and then-some stores to look at all the kitchen appliances. As we left, we found some celadon green dinnerware that we decided to buy, since we do not have a complete set of dishes at this time what with the recent move and all. This store is at least 30 minutes from where we live and, of course, when we got home we found 5 plates, one bowl and one cup broken. I called the store and they at least said we did not have to bring back the whole heavy box; they just wanted the broken items, please. With gas prices what they are our dish set just went up another $3.00!

While at the store we also were looking at CD players since our old player seems to be ignoring the CDs when we try to play them. This is a somewhat fruitless task with everyone moving to digital stream technology. We couldn't find anything simple and decided to try out a CD cleaner disk instead. I'll let you know if it works. I've got a feeling that there is more to this than a dirty disc player.

For the Rainy Days

Someday in my life,when the rain doesn't seem to go away, these are the pictures I hope to keep in my mind until the sun breaks through.

I did some research...

Checked out the nice restaurants in our area. That little platter of broiled oysters that I posted yesterday would cost about $50.00 here! I think hubby has got himself a good hobby. The sauce I made over the top was as follows for those of you who may have access to bivalves to eat.

2 tablespoons melted butter
4 cloves of garlic heated in microwave and chopped fine
1/4 red onion chopped fine
one stalk of fennel chopped fine
seasoned salt
very light sprinkle of spicy chile powder mix (Tabasco also works)
Heat all together until simmered
Add juice from one lemon and 2 tablespoons of white wine
pour over raw oysters and then broil

Me and my shadow.

I have not watched the news or read so much about Katrina's results by choice this week. I have contacted a few friends in that area and their homes survived; but they are frantically working on rebuilding research labs or classrooms and libraries. I have contributed as best I can, and need to back off from the images and stories for now. Interestingly, the thoughts still permeate my life. Most recently in the form of food. Last night we harvested and ate these.


As we relished these freshly harvest oysters, we also thought about how the oyster industry in the Gulf area along with all the seafood (caught and farmed) had been devastated. How some of the shrimpers lost their homes and are now living on their boats and have nothing to harvest.

Then today as I live on liquids and find food constantly tugging at my thoughts and food smells driving me bananas (see even my descriptors are edible!), I chastise myself in that I can have nutritious liquids and I am not thirsty like the hurricane survivors nor will I ever be as hungry as they must have been.

My concern for the procedures of the medical appointment early tomorrow is nothing like the fear they must have tried to control.

Two photos fell to the ground. Life Story #1

I had just finished putting together a little photo album about my two weeks with my grandson. As I was moving some of the photo albums I have in my bookshelf, these two fell to the floor. Boy do they bring back the memories. I think the guy with the GREAT thighs and totally sweet personality was called Lazarus, if I remember correctly. He was an elder selected as our guide and was helping my husband and I get some drinking coconuts since we had gotten thirsty while touring an area for an environmental study on a possible reef airport. (The reef won, thank goodness! That story involved an angry native and a spear and danger...another blog for another time.) The second photo is me standing next to probably a million dollars--that will never happen again. These giant doughnut shapped stones are money on the island of Yap. They represent a family's wealth. They come in all sizes, but this one has to be worth a LOT! Nice memories of a long time ago.

It's pink and long and clean

I lost my font, has anyone seen my font?

Starting tomorrow I get to drink 3 ounces of sodium benzoate and as many tons of clear liquids as I like. Yes, it is that time again where I let some gastroenterologist satisfy their prurient interests and hopefully tell me that my inside is as sexy as my outside on Wednesday. Wish me luck as this procedure is not that much fun, even though they pretty much knock you out.

The fun of living a long life!

An Now Something to Make You Very Very Scared

I have been schizophrenic today. Came cross this link while I was eating a late lunch at work and found that I got a message that said something to the effect I do not have "permission" to open this link. So, being the strong supporter of freedom of speech I sent the URL to my home email. (If I get fired tomorrow, you will know why!) Anyway, here it is. I just got back from a FEMA Detainment Camp Before you read this, keep reminding yourself that you are in the United States of America and that these 'refugees' are not people captured in I-r-a-q. I am so afraid that Katrina is going to split this country wide open. I know that racial prejudice exists, but I never really knew. I never really knew. If you can't open, let me know and I will post the text.

Curdle that Milk in Denmark

I had barely made it inside the apartment door and the phone was ringing. Dropping my mail on the chair I checked caller ID. It’s my mom, of course. She has been reading news on that damn Internet, I realized.

“Hi, Mom.”
“What are you doing home so early? It’s not even five.”
“I put in almost nine hours, Mom. Besides, I work for the government. Five-week vacations, long lunch hours, you know.”
“You should be working more. Get on that fast track. Take on more than you can handle easily.”
“Mom, what in the hell are you talking about?” I said this, knowing full well where this conversation was leading. I also had been reading the news over lunch.
“Haven’t you seen the news about stress? Stress is good for you. Stress prevents breast cancer, for god’s sake! Did you call your Ex today about the payments?”
“Mom, I love talking to you. But I need to unwind before I start dinner.”
“Tension is good. Stress is good. You do not ‘need’ to unwind. You need to get a second job. Maybe that way you could meet someone nice and get married again.”
“I have to say goodbye now, Mom. Thanks for the healthy dose of stress.” I hung up gently and headed for the wine rack.

I was going to write something about curdled breast milk and cancer and stress, but kept my wits about me. Of course, none of the above is true—but can’t you just see this? What on earth is the media thinking when they report this stuff so out of context!!! We need more qualified medical journalists.

Smokin some stuff

I am taking a note from The Cerebral Outpost and trying to find humor in the chaos of news these days. This morning on the Channel 9 morning show they were going outside the studio to introduce a new barbecue restaurant. Standing at the back of the building was the chef with some really great looking ribs on the grill. The newscaster (spokesman) joined him and said, "Well today, folks, we are here to help you plan an outdoor dinner for the Labor Day holiday. I am sure some of you are planning on smoking some stuff over the holiday." He really said that. Didn't even blink. I am sure his studio folks were falling off their chairs.

Insomnia 1 in White

I am off my sleep schedule due to grandson's visit last night. He had a bad night and was up every two hours! So tonight I went to bed at 800 and now I am totally awake at 2:00! My glasses are back in the bedroom, so I can't really see what I am blogging here.

But, I had fun cropping these two photos I took this weekend. One in a greenhouse and one at the side of the road on a bike ride. One has to fend for itself against the elements to survive and one is totally nurtured by man. The luck of the draw.

Can There Be Too Much Togetherness?

I get to reading blogs on an early Saturday and come across some stories about spouses and their disagreements that make me wonder how the people can still be together. But, having said that, there are days when I wonder how my hubby and I are going to work out this 24/7 retirement thing.

Right now he travels about 30% of the time. So, even though we go to work together, there are times when I have that precious, marvelous, restorative alone time that I so need.

When he is home we do most things together except for work time. We are not a glued-at-the-hip couple, but we do enjoy each others company and like similar activities and adventures. The hurdle that I see coming in the time ahead is my hubby's addiction to water activities and fishing. I mean, if he could, he would take out his canoe or boat every single day until he died to make sure he has found every fishing hole, every school of fish, every bird feeding group, etc. He even jokes that if he gets too old and has to be taken care of by others, that he wants me to put him in the canoe with his best fishing pole (like I would know out of the dozen he has!) and just push the canoe offshore into the ocean. I tell him that even though I love him, I am NOT going to jail for him.

Well, the problem is that he does not have a real fishing buddy other than I. His friends and colleagues are all busy with their lives. And even though we have the rare dinner together, they are not giving up their free time for fishing. And I can take fishing or leave it...usually leave it. We 'fight' over our weekend time. I like to run errands, work on crafts, take pictures, houseplan, watch chick flicks, blog, garden. He likes to fish. And on the days that have crappy weather he likes to fish even more. So I hope when we move into the new area there are fishing addicts and boating addicts to feed his needs.

I realized a few years ago and re-realize it every year that some (many?) women frequently give up our fun times to babysit while hubby golfs (my daughter), to go on long outdoor fishing vacations with husband (my sister) or to go boating on rare free times (me) to keep those we love happy. Then as we get older and the children fire us and maybe hubby slows down, we realize that we have put that whole creative self-pleasuring side of ourselves on a shelf somewhere. See that picture of that high school girl or college graduate? Who were we anyway? When was the last time we focused for so long on something we loved that we forgot the time? We need to be more like men.

Going Back in Time

For a total of 10 days over a three week period, I was the daytime caregiver of my little guy. Ten things I learned as a new grandmother in charge of daycare:

1) Your daughter (son?) will remind you of yourself at times in her approach to things and at other times you will wonder where she gets such crazy ideas.
2) “Quality time” for working parents consists of two hours in the evening which also includes changing out of office clothes, sorting the mail, cooking dinner and watching some stupid reality show that has been TIVOed. If you don’t know what TIVO is, you are better off than the rest of the world because you actually have a life. The kid does get some eye contact time, some belly time and usually a diaper change in all of this. Morning quality time, while more peaceful, rarely lasts more than a few minutes before everyone is off and running to greet their day.
3) When taking a baby for the daily stroll you actually think about things like the breezes in the leaves, happy dogs with wagging tails, the sounds of the suburbs and approaching fall colors.
4) Don’t expect to get any lengthy sleep while you are there overnight. Especially if parents are trying to get baby to drop night feedings.
5) Most Daddies are not intuitive about babies and it is sometimes funny to watch the discombobulation.
6) The strangest songs will come back into your memory when you are talking to the baby and you will actually sing them to him…at least partly, if you can remember most of the words.
7) Bath time: Babies are slippery as hell when wet!
8) There is nothing more addictive than ANY drug imaginable as having a little guy (gal) curl up tight in your arms, look you straight in the eye, and then drift off to blissful sleep.
9) Baby smell is certainly the next addiction…didn’t want to shower when I got back home!
10) You will lose weight ( a little). Lifting baby up and down, getting up and down from the floor, pushing a stroller, going up and down the stairs dozens of times each day and forgetting to eat all contribute to this.

Taking it One Day at a Time

Watching the news this week, the discouraging images were so familiar to me. In the late 1970’s upon returning from living in the South Pacific, Hubby and I excitedly purchased our first real home as a married couple in southern Texas. The house was located in a small and lovely suburb surrounded by shady live oak and sweet gum trees covered with Spanish moss and bordering lush green lawns. The house was a three bedroom, two bathroom ranch in excellent condition. We owned about a half acre. The back yard also had a garage-size greenhouse that kept all my tropical plants protected through the short winters of southern Texas. The former owner was a landscape addict and the yard was spectacular; we even won an award one year from the local garden club. Across the street was a slow moving bayou that my husband explored in his canoe on weekends. My daughter was almost four at the time and my son was about 8 months old. I was still nursing him, which later became a blessing.

Hurricanes were common in the summer months in this area of Texas but none ever reached our area. In 1979, Tropical Storm Claudette moved in from the gulf and while we expected lots of rain and flooded lawns, we knew it would move on as these tropical storms always did. But Claudette was contradictory and decided to stay awhile. She moved up to Alvin, Texas and then proceeded to sit there like a drunken sailor sucking up moisture from the Gulf and dumping it on our heads. 42 inches of rain fell in 24 hours. According to Wikipedia: “Claudette was a long-lived (August 15 - August 29) but fairly weak storm that spent almost its entire life as a tropical depression. Claudette formed in the mid-Atlantic east of the Windward Islands. It had two spells as a tropical storm; the first was a brief one east of Puerto Rico. The storm passed directly over the island just after weakening, where it killed one person from flooding. The depression moved casually through the Greater Antilles and moved into the Gulf of Mexico. Claudette restrengthened into a tropical storm south of Sabine, Texas and made landfall near Port Arthur, killing one person from floods. Damages from flooding in Texas were enormous, totaling $400 million dollars. Claudette was one of the costliest storms on record that never reached hurricane intensity.”

After hours and hours of gray rain, fear was starting to set in. By early evening I could hear the water gurgling beneath the bathtub in the children’s bathroom. It was a strange and unsettling sound. In the dusk, I tried to see where the level of the bayou was in the neighbor’s backyard across the street, but the rain was so heavy I couldn’t make out anything but gray water against the window. Uneasy, we put the kids to bed and then headed to bed ourselves. The numbing sound of rain continued throughout the night. We slept on and off, and in the morning, woke up to about six inches of water in the bedroom! We hurriedly packed some clothes, got the kids dressed and talked about what to do next.

I remember getting my daughter her breakfast before we left. The water had come up another 8 inches by that time. I put her on the kitchen table and fixed her cereal. Although the electricity was out, the milk was still cold from the fridge. She was fascinated with the swimming pool that had previously been our home. While eating she suddenly squealed in delight. When I looked up, she giggled. “Mom, look, there’s a fish under the table!” In verification, there was a small 4 inch fish swimming around the legs of our kitchen table as if it was his own small wooden reef.

The water continued to rise, and we eventually had to leave our home by that reliable old canoe. As we paddled down our street I noticed that the waters were teaming with balls of fire ants climbing over each other in order to avoid drowning. We had to be careful not to brush up against those lovely live oaks and sweet gums branches, as they, too, were covered in fire ants and harbored their share of poisonous and non-poisonous snakes as well. We paddled out to the nearby freeway and then hubby returned to pick up our neighbors. Eventually a school bus took all of us to the local elementary school. While the rains stopped, the water continued to rise for another day. We got over 3 feet of water in our house. When we realized that it would be days before we could get back home, friends took us in. After several weeks of living with them, we accepted that we had to find some place to rent for the longer term and fortunately we had the limited resources to do that. I remember thinking that although I had lost the inside of my house and most of my belongings, I was so thankful we were alive and uninjured.

We returned to a neighborhood of refuse-covered lawns. People were trying to determine what could be salvaged and what had to be thrown out among their treasures. I still have in my mind the nightmare images of soaked furniture, buckled oak flooring, and days and days of doing laundry when the electricity was finally restored. My neighbor’s dryer worked and my washer worked and we ran them non-stop together for days. You have to wash EVERYTHING you ever owned that is washable. We probably thought we were washing the flood away.

We retrieved the chest freezer from the neighbor's swimming pool where it had floated out of our garage. All of our food was lost, of course.

Months passed before we could get a contractor to help us rebuild. We gutted the house ourselves in the interim. The fireplace had not been pushed off its base and we did not have a can of diesel oil on a counter to tip and spread everywhere as one of our neighbors had experienced.

I ended up having to wean my son earlier than I wanted, because we had to shop for cars (both of ours floated away) and handle tons of insurance paperwork and loan paperwork. (This was the flood, by the way, that gave Texan, Dan Rather, his first big newsbreak and helped move him forward as a major news anchor.)

As I see these people in the Gulf who are so thankful just to be alive, I know that months from now when they will have to accept they have a long road ahead after the initial shock wears off. They will need the help of the charities more than ever and the support of their relatives and friends to help them see the light at the end of the tunnel. As my blog emphasizes, you get through these things One Day at a Time.