Circus.doc

Unavoidable
Dancing and gnashing and wailing
Waiting and learning and dying
Arising for breath in the next ring

Circle
Around and around and around
Halting and jerking and moving
Pausing and breathing and staring

Terminus
Act I and Act II and Act III
Predetermined and predicted and preceded
Missing the answers already

Oh yeah, like you blend!!

With the new immigration reform law, I thought I would link to this old post.





If you had to guess the location and heritage and profession of the man above, you might get it right...but then again, you might not.  If I told you he was a Japanese movie director, would you believe me?  Maybe a gangster out of Tokyo waiting for his limo or perhaps an urban designer from New York?  It is hard to judge a book by its cover. 

He was a fisherman from one of the tuna boats on an island in Japan. I was busy taking photos of the tuna being loaded and unloaded and the sorting of the fish for auction. He came up and in sign language asked me to take his picture. If you recognize him, I would love to send him this photo which came out very well.

The title of this blog was taken from a movie called "My Cousin Vinny" which came out in 1992 starring Joe Pesci, Ralph Maccio and Marisa Tomei. It is a silly black comedy about a murder trial and the class of regional cultures in America. Due to a series of miscommunications and misunderstandings, two young New Yorkers are charged with murder in a small Alabama town. Joe Pesci, a personal injury lawyer, flies down from New York to save his cousin. He brings along his girlfriend Marisa Tomei and the clash of cultures begins. The line above results from a discussion between the boyfriend (Pesci) and the girlfriend (Tomei) who accuse each other of not fitting adequately into the rural southern town setting. The movie did not get great reviews, but it obviously has struck a chord with me if I remember it after more than a decade. I loved the clash of the culture of New York 'gansta' and Alabama 'good-old-boy'.

I am drawn to those stories where characters from totally different backgrounds have to interact, adjust and begin to understand and respect each other. Vinnie is totally regarded as a loser at the beginning of the movie because of his thick accent and strange black suit. He wins the case with the help of his 'smart' girlfriend in leather and boots and raw outspoken bravada. While it had a predictable ending, I enjoyed the cultural dance and surrprise.

I was intrigued by, if not quite understanding the allure, the recent news that the Japanese woman are drawn to the cartoon SpongeBob Squarepants thing and that all of his iconic wares are selling like hotcakes or should I say okonomyaki?

I was reassured (not threatened) by a featured news story about a a very popular New Jersey theater that shows only Bollywood movies and serves Indian food. The Asian Indian Americans can relax in a theater and pretend they are back home.

I am pleased to see the salsa dance clubs that are filling our cities due to the influx of Latino immigrants-- even though I think I have forgotten my salsa steps totally and could never match a real latino woman who loves her rhythm.

While waiting in line at the maternity store this weekend (for my daughter, of course) I watched and listened to the ebullient discussion between a woman from the Philippines who was interviewing a woman from Gabon for a job in the store. Each with their own thick accents talking in English.

I have a friend who years ago had car trouble in her hometown of Miami and had to pull into a gas station in a part of town where no one spoke English. She spoke no Spanish. It was a very difficult night for her. I don't feel so good about that incident as she related it, and while I respect other cultures, I think English does have to be the official language. Communication is everything. English has to be the language we can depend on in our schools and our businesses allowing other languages to be used for supplement and assistance only.
(Although I will admit the media has allowed American English to fall into the realm of disaster!)



(As a 2013 addendum to this post, I watch refugees take shelters in every ruined corner of the world and on every open dust swept dessert this year and want to find them mixing their accents in my neighborhood.)

Frivellous Friday (Why does that word look so weird?)

I saw this statement somewhere a few weeks ago: "If the world didn't suck we'd all fall off."

If you just think about that (rude) statement it is more than funny, more than cynical, more than fatalistic and yet all of the above. What would the Dali Lama say?

".. .Be gentle with the earth." Is that because he knows it will quit sucking if we aren't gentle?

1. Today the office received a FedEx package that had been sent from our own agency in an office only two doors away!! The strangest thing was that 50% of the people who were told about this were not surprised. As long as we continue to hire people based on their politics and not their skills....

2. I was told to pick up a new access pass for my apartment today and to turn in the old access pass. The lady who gave me the new pass said that it should be operational, but she also handed me back my old pass and smiled, "just in case." Lucky for me I had the old pass when I tried to enter my apartment building on this very cold afternoon.

3. My husband called from the house to ask about pulling a wine from my little chiller so that he could bring a gift to his Carolina friends when he drives down this evening. I cannot tell you how funny it was trying to understand what he was saying as he read each wine bottle! I finally told him to just go the wine store and tell them he wanted a nice Cabernet in the $25 range.

4. My co-worker told me that his father-in-law, who lives in Las Vegas, thinks that the whole recycling program is a Communist plot and he refuses to participate when he comes to visit. Guess which party ticket he votes?

5. After perusing my latest order from Netflix and watching my choices for TV shows, my husband has suggested that I may have a bit of a personality disorder. I like to watch Monk and Gilmore Girls, both TV shows that reflect very neurotic people al la Woody Allen with much second guessing, over-talking and lack of self esteem. I also seem lately to order movies from Netflix that are dramas about the racial problems and wars in third world countries. What is up with that? (In defense I think Ugly Betty is one of the best TV shows to come along in a long time and watch it regularly.)

6. I love Star Trek--the TV shows-- and think Rosenberry was a wonderful writer but the Star Trek actors are given terrible lines. Great plot yet such soap opera dialogue and over the top acting. Just turn off the sound and watch the TV show and see if you can keep from laughing.

7. I am moving from an area where I am in walking distance of a 20 screen movie theater and also another 5 screen venue for art films. In the future I am moving to a place that has an old movie theater with just one or two screens and an audience that talks back to the screen.

8. After much searching on the Internet I found the location of the showing of the movie,"The Painted Veil." If you like a rich and realistic love story set in an exotic location with lots of good drama and great acting, than this is worth a long drive to see. This movie will rapidly disappear from the listings, so catch it now.

Get Your Whirligig On Straight

The world is a whirling place. It stops for no man and as everyone's lives around you also whirl you most certainly will wake up and find yourself in a strange or different place before your whirling is over. Last night I had drafted a blog on how miserable I am at my job and realized before posting, but after the cathartic writing, that people who have truly difficult jobs or even more challenging, no job at all, would not really be interested or sympathetic in my painful office politics or how useless I feel in my waning career these days. (I make good money, I can pretty much do what I want each day...get over yourself, Tabor.) And while I blog primarily for myself and posterity, I also have grown to love and admire co-bloggers and therefore feel some responsibilty in wasting their time. So I deleted the post.

Then, as if this realization was not enough, I was standing in my boss's office talking this morning when one of our guest speakers was brought in for an introduction. This man had had a good career in the environmental sciences in the military and retired in his mid-50's and was currently working on a PhD in another area. One chapter from his thesis was what he was going to talk about to our group.

He was small in stature and not exceptional physically in any way. You would not notice him passing on the street. But his personality was noticable. He was energetic and effusive and charming. There are people in this world that just love life and love what they do and when they stop doing what they do, they find something else to love and you can feel the magnetic pull of that enthusiasm. They always seems to land on their feet and see the glass as half full. In talking about his life and family he revealed that he had two children. One of them was a daughter who had drug problems and also had a two-year-old out-of-wedlock child. He said that she was going to lose custody of this child and after many meetings with lawyers and social workers, he and his wife realized that if they ever expected to see this grandchild again, they would have to adopt her. He clearly was still working through this big decision. The fact that he shared it with complete strangers without compunction puts him in that category of people who have total trust in the world. (Not a category where I have ever had the luxury of being a member.)

He mind was filled with questions about how his physical stamina would be so that he could still be a parent in ten years when this girl was 12. His whole concern was about his energy levels waning...not at all about the expense and scheduling adjustments and personal sacrifices involved in raising a small child.

I have a grandchild that is about the same age, and while I would throw myself at the foot of any judge without a second's thought to beg for custody, I also could not fail to realize all the work that is entailed in raising another human being. All the sacrifices, the compromises, the intellectual effort in trying to find out what is happening in a young person's culture. Trying to understand MySpace, YouTube, Wii and still sharpen the tools to protect that person from all the bad stuff while ALSO defending your gray hair and cane in this youth obsessed culture is not a challenge I would be eager to face.

Downtime

This creative project was motivated by Colleen's comment on the business card left by one of the many geese on the river in my earlier post. I couldn't resist and since I don't have anything to write about right now due to some stresses at work, I have decided that I need to continue to focus on such humor in my down time.

Beauty is in the Eyes of the Beholder

Dali in the Church

Blue Sunday Worship

Two different interpretations of a cathedral photo I took in Sicily this past fall. The first is pretty abstract and reminds me of melting candles in cathedrals. The second is more traditional. Both were done on the computer without the smell of turpentine or the chance of spilled tempura. Which do you like more?

Out of Place Life Story #7

In every person's life, most likely when they are crossing that uneven bridge between childhood and adulthood, but many times happening even later, there are times when you go to a social gathering or you are among strangers and you know immediately you do not fit. You are suddenly and coldly an alien on the side of the planet where you have just landed. This has happened quite a few times in my life, maybe due to my insecurities or maybe due to my conservative (don't laugh) nature or maybe my plain impatience with society and unwillingness to "fit in."

In graduate school in Hawaii, as a very poor student only months away from obtaining a teaching certificate, I and a date from Nicaragua (another life story) went to a party at one of the houses near campus. Neither of us knew the party givers very well, but we sensed almost immediately upon entering the dark living area that we were out of our place. The group of young men and women were very casually sitting around the floor draped around furniture and each other and talking in quiet tones as if they had known each other for many years. The sweet smell of marijuana took its laid-back time reaching us as we both sat on the floor with our backs to the wall. It may come as a surprise to readers, but I never tried the stuff. I knew it was against the law and while I may have gotten three sheets to the wind on good beer in my college days at the dance hall near campus, I was not going to risk losing my teaching certificate (my ticket out of poverty) just to try some illegal buzz.

Everyone was facing a screen at the end of the room with a slide projector set up at the opposite end. There was some food on a table behind the furniture, but no one seemed to be interested. In a short time familiar psychedelic 60's music started and the projector was turned on. The slides seemed to be about some camping vacation that several of the people in the room had taken, although it was too dark for me to really tell who in the room matched with the slide photo. Pictures of the camp set-up, food cooking and people sitting around a fire were the first part of the show. No one in the room did any talking, everyone just watched. The following slides of the next day's camping were a little different. Everyone had seemed to misplace their clothes and the weather in Hawaii was warm enough that no one on the camping trip seemed to notice that they were all naked. Looking back on this show, I realize it was not as shocking as I thought at the time. I wasn't all that innocent in life, but my date (a good Latin Catholic) turned to me and suggested we may want to leave and go get some coffee somewhere. I found myself very uncomfortable seeing people I didn't even know in their birthday suits and agreed to leave. We made a 'graceful exit.' Perhaps if I had really known these folks, I would not have felt quite so odd and out of place. Maybe if it had been more than the second date with my Nicaraguan friend, I would have felt more comfortable. Who knows. I just know I was Out of Place.

It has been a long time since I felt uncomfortable in any social or other situation.

On Monday morning my husband and I were on our way back to the city from our house on the river. Since we were goofing around and failed to eat breakfast, I proclaimed that we deserved Dunkin Donuts and coffee. This is a rare treat as we tend to eat healthier in our old age. After loading the car we headed to the nearby shopping center.

It was about 9:00 A.M. and several early workers were already taking their mid-morning coffee break. We seemed to be noticed by several of them as we exited our car, which would not have surprised me so much when I was a young and, if I do say so myself, attractive woman. But since this was certainly no longer true, I was wondering what was up. Then my husband passed ahead of me in his eager stride toward the pastry palace. Aha! Mystery solved. He had on a very nice suit and tie for a luncheon meeting that he had planned in the city. He looked so out of place and I quietly mentioned it to him when I caught up. He threw back his head and laughed, which caused an elderly man in front of us to turn and look, not once but several times. My husband said under his breath "Make way for the Senator." Something only a man raised in the South would say and I had to smile.

Upon entering Dunkin's my husband actually turned to the two men behind us and smiled and gesturing to his suit said apologetically, "I have a meeting today."

I grinned thinking they probably thought he was appearing before a judge. Weddings and court hearings would be the only time one would see someone in a suit in that part of the county...unless they were a Senator, of course.

The Good Side

While global warming is going to bring very bad news in the coming years, we have had a wonderful three day weekend in the high 60's where we set aside the curtain ironing and hanging and the bill paying and put the canoe in the river for a rare January paddle.


The river was full of a convention of noisy geese who rushed to lift high into the air everytime a motorboat went up or down the river. A lot of energy was expended by them to live on the river next to man who uses the river as a freeway.


By the time we caught up to where they were resting there was only a floating "calling card."

Remember my bald friend?

Note the photos have not been downsized so be prepared for slowness of loading if you click for a larger view.

I don't know if this was the same fellow/fellowess who ate lunch in our backyard a while back. It was too hard to get close in the canoe for a better look. I am not sure that my powers of observation would have been up to the challenge anyway. The faster and yet quieter we paddled the more careful he became. He would let us get up only so close as we headed toward the channel and I still don't have that telephoto lense. He/she is breathtaking regardless of the distance!

The Second Glass is a Rose

There are phrases reserved for people who blog when they are less inhibited due to consumption of alcohol. I think one of these is call "beerblogging". Well, I am on my second glass of a blush wine that was actually made by a friend of mine and so I am "blushblogging."

This rose is very good and reminds me of the Portugese rose that was all the rage among the young college set in the 60s and 70s. To a college student the wine seemed so exotic and came in an interesting and unsually shaped red clay-colored bottle. It had gentle little bubbles and was as close to a champagne as we could afford. I cannot for the life of me put my finger on the label...but I am sure my peer bloggers will help me out, please! I think it was introduced via the soldiers who traveled to Europe and then came back to let us know how sophisticated they were because I remember that I discovered it from a soldier or two that I dated.

Anyway, enough about my youthful love life, because this blog entry is about something else. Two glasses of wine now have made me admit after all these years, that birthdays are sort of important. In case anyone is interested, I turned the big 60 on the 21st of December. My sister remembered and sent me a lovely cashmere shawl (?), my daughter and her husband got me an espresso coffee maker (? kitchen appliances at 60?) which I returned for a food processor which is a little more practical, and my hubby and son bought me a lovely drusy necklace with a garnet that they got at a Colorado gem store. And that was it! I turned 60 and I actually thought something really monumental would happen even though I am always ready to poo-poo birthdays as just numbers. I thought I would get the first payment on an African safari (which is something I have been dreaming of for years) or maybe a trip to a New York broadway play.

I mean 6 decades should be worth something a little special! On my husbands 60th we went to a salsa club and danced the night away with about a dozen friends and our kids and their dates.

No luck. Daughter was sick and the putanesca pasta dish that I asked for, in spite of the fact the I am the only one who likes anchovies, was inadvertantly mixed with the jar of vodka red sauce my daughter also bought at the Italian store as a second choice for the small group of guests for dinner. My daughter was sick and passed the recipe on to my hubby who mixed the two sauces, either subconsciously and on purpose to overcome any teeny tiny flavor of anchovy which he hates, or accidentally, because he was trying to impress our company, mixed the two recipes...thereby totally negating the meal.

At work I got absolutely no notice (although the two guys who turned 50 and 60 earlier in the year got cards, well wishes and small gifts.). I mean I don't really care...REALLY. It is just a little irritating as I think this is a BIG birthday.

Oh well enough whining into my wine. Happy Birthday to me!!

P.S. YES, Peruby, it was Lancer's. Wouldn't you know it would have a name like that. For those of you who find the number 60 important...go here for a nice walk down memory lane.
http://moreoldfortyfives.com/TakeMeBackToTheSixties.htm

If it is not one end, it is the other! Life Story #6

Years, alright, decades ago when I lived on a very small island in the South Pacific with water that ran or not and lights that lit or not and cars that started or not, I had a very bad case of the flu. I swear to this day that it was Dengue fever but I am usually poo-pooed by medical intelligentsia when I say this. I guess one should not live through Dengue? Dengue fever makes you feel as if you have been run over by a large train and every joint aches.

I had a two year-old daughter at the time and was confined to a small apartment with no real help...including my hubby whose life revolved around his job and who never took any of my illnesses very seriously anyway.

I clearly remember being up part of one night helping my daughter through her share of the illness only to have her reach the top of this roller coaster ride to health and end up the next day as the energizer bunny. Something that happens to small children with amazing and unexplainable speed. Their eyes become bright and they run everywhere and their chatter can hurt the ears when only hours before they were panting with weakness on your chest.

I was lying on the sofa in real pain when my little two-year-old found the two-inch-thick tabloid-size fairy tale book she had received for Christmas. She lifted the book (almost as big as her) with surprising ease and hurried across the room. She lost her grip just as she reached the sofa and dropped the book like a slab of concrete across my abdomen. I almost blacked out from the pain and barely heard her sweet voice asking me to read her a story. Trying to care for a tiny someone when you are sick is a real challenge!

Now to the present. This weekend we babysat for Xman who had the flu. He hadn't eaten much in days and had intestinal flu and all that that entails. His dad also had a long night rendezvous with the porcelain throne the night before. Mom, who is now pregnant, is sick from the pregnancy and may be fighting a lighter version of the flu. They were a trio of sad sacks. Fortunately they have us and we took Xman for a long drive and a brief visit to the park so that they could recoup and re-focus. Family is so important and I sure could have used a grandparent when my husband and I were being adventurers in our youth.

Another Movie Review

It seems to be a week of movie going for Tabor. Months go by and we don't go near a theater and then we spend two weekends in a row taking in movies. I saw The Good Shepherd this weekend. It was a last minute decision and I was not expecting much. Although the story line has a few more twists and turns than expected, it is still a bit plodding and could certainly use some humor—even if it was black humor.

The movie is a fictionalized account of the start-up of the CIA and is directed by Robert DeNiro who also plays a small role as a retired General. Matt Damon plays the lead as one of the new spies selected from a carefully vetted group of young men from families of wealth. These men selected seem to all belong to the 'formerly secret' Yale "Skull and Cross Bones" fraternity. Angelina Jolie who plays his long-suffering wife is totally miscast in the part. Her personality doesn’t match her actions and her interest in Damon (who plays an unbelievably stiff conservative patriot) doesn’t make sense. The movie is dark and slow. The primary theme seems to be that you cannot trust anyone. People will betray you either by design or accident.

Some of the spy techniques such as the tedious way that photographs were analyzed before our new digital technology were interesting.

There is one scene in the movie which left a very chilling impression on me. Damon goes to visit Joe Pesci who plays a cameo scene as an Italian (Mafia man?) who is being asked to assist the CIA with the Bay of Pigs operation. Pesci ,who clearly has no respect for the CIA guys and says the CIA creates the “big wars,” then asks Damon to tell him what he has. Pesci says (and I paraphrase) “We Italians have got our family and our food, the Jews have got their tradition. Even the Ni**ers have got their music. But what have you guys got?”

Damon replies expressionlessly, “We have the United States of America and we let you live here.” Whew. (Does this bring to mind anyone---maybe someone who retired from a Cabinet position a few years ago?)

The View on the Other Side of the Castle Wall

I renewed my prior free subscription to "Food and Wine" this year because I found the recipes and wine news interesting, even if a little luxurious and expensive. I had received this subscription free last year when I bought my daughter a gift certificate to Williams Sonoma ---a very expensive 'kitchen' store.

I am sitting on the sofa perusing the February 2007 issue and decided to share some of this with bloggers who might never pick up such a magazine.

On the cover is a lovely photo of a red bowl of butternut squash soup with apple slices and smoked cheddar. (Already I am hungry.)

The ads show luxury gourmet kitchens, luxury vacations and products that only lottery winners could afford. The editors page talks about how unexciting Februaries are following the holidays and discusses a feature story about how two famous chefs in Colorado arrange a meal in a "gorgeous old barn...surrounded by huge snowdrifts...prepared a delicious grilled meal of capon with salsa verde, meatballs and butter coal-roasted potatoes. Winter grilling..." Being the age I am and having grown up in Colorado, I am thinking how cold it must be to eat a meal in "gorgeous old barn." The beauty of a Colorado winter is in the warm sunshine...not the shade of a windy old barn. I picture myself trying to cut through the capon with woolen gloves.

The "news and notes" page does talk about products that are good for the environment...a floor cleaning solution ($25) and reclaimed hardwood from Seattle made into lovely tables ($1,200). It appears to cost money to do good. (To give them some credit they do talk about an Oregon nonprofit that sends bikes to Rwanda so that the coffee farmers can transport their coffee beans to market.)

They also praise a velvety jam that is a dollar an ounce and only 100 jars are made each year. Among the rich it is all about getting the rare.

There is a really neat ad for a Breville blender that they claim transforms ice into snowflakes via a patented "hemisphere bowl/blade system". The design eliminates all 'dead' zones and makes smoothies with no lumps. It seems the rich never have to take their lumps.

So why am I on this luxury rant? I think it has something to do with the movie I saw last night--Blood Diamonds. As a side comment, this movie is well done (just a little derivative) and it has made me a big fan of DiCaprio. I saw him in the violent bloody Departed a few months ago and he is much like Meryl Streep in being able to fold gently in the subtle differences of each character. There is a reasonable love story and a heart-wrenching father son theme and the great scenes of that beautiful continent that contrast with the blood that runs so freely.

Blood Diamonds tells the well known story of how we rape Africa to support our luxurious life style in the rich nations of the world. It makes you watch the news with impatience at the stupid stories and with cynicism at the others stories. It makes you look at diamonds in a whole new glint. But, for me, I now feel, once again, that my retirement hours must be spent more usefully as payment for all my good luck at being born in the right place at the right time.

The Greener Grass on the Other Side

We didn't get the several feet of lovely white snow that relatives got in Colorado. We didn't get that warm sunshine and wind in the palms that relatives got in Florida. But as I stood out on the dock last night, I wasn't feeling left out. I think Peruby did such a great job of putting these holidays in perspective...you should go there and read this post.

Scattering Memories

We (I) have now spent the longest time in our new house...nine days. Nine fully filled days of errands and activities.

In the process of filling the house full of things, we celebrated Christmas with those we love and filled the house with the first important memories. First memories are wisps of smells and sounds that tuck themselves into corners of rooms and are unexpectedly revealed by a ray of sunlight or the wind racing through the door before it is closed behind you. They pause over your head as you sit down for a cup of tea during the day. They hide in the smudge on the newly painted wall in the hall. Memories make the house sigh happily in the afternoon or creak loudly in the night as it makes room for more of the same.

I think that I may feel I am coming 'home' the next time I come down this way for a short and busy weekend and not just to someone's new house.

On the Day After Christmas

1) Couldn't really sleep-in as Xman was up by 6:30 and was ready to say good morning to his new "choo-choo."
2) Daddy had packed "choo choo" so that they could get an early start back home. Of course everything got unpacked and redistributed throughout the rooms in the short time parents got a quick breakfast.
3) One very special Christmas gift was that my baby girl is 7 weeks along with grandchild number two.
4) Bad news is that she has morning sickness the size of a small elephant and couldn't enjoy any of the food that she loves. She actually spent one afteroon of her days with us on the bathroom floor. (This past week she scared a coworker when she was accidentally found under her desk at work because she felt so nauseous. Sounds like something on a TV show.) Boo hoo.
5) We have guiltily contributed to the landfills of the area with the tons of banana- republic-bombay-godiva-macys-fischer-price, etc. bags that were left behind in my foyer after a somewhat excessive consumptive Christmas.
6) I am actually starting to take down the decorations (Yes, I heard what you were thinking.) This is because we will be back in the city for New Year's to catch a few movies.
7) One of the nicest things about the holidays is that I can have pumpkin pie with whip cream for breakfast and munch on holiday cookies as I do the laundry and feel no guilt. (And I did that today!)
8) We were smart this year and actually took all the toys out of their bubble packs and tightly wired housing before gift wrapping them since 30 minutes is too long for a 20 month old to wait for a train engine! One would think that toys are terrorist weapons the way they are protected from access
9) My son drove the hour back to the city on Christmas day and brought down his girlfriend of almost 6 years ... we are hoping this means something significant in the future as she is a very special girl.
10) And finally, I know very well that perfect Christmases don't come very often, but they are certainly worth waiting for on the rare times that they do appear.

Two Days Before Christmas

I have been working like a crazy person. Cleaning, shopping, wrapping, cooking, decorating. Each evening I fall into bed so exhausted I can barely pull the quilt up. While my holidays are usually quiet, this year we are lucky and have friends coming for lunch today and my daughter coming to cook me a belated birthday dinner tonight and then her in-laws coming for Christmas Eve dinner and to spend the big holiday with us along with my son.

My new kitchen is full of pies, homemade and storebought, homemade cookies, salad fixings, pretty fresh fruit and wrapped candies and awaiting the delivery of a ham and a turkey brought by guests. My new refrigerator is full of cassroles waiting to be heated.

Weather this year has been mild if wet and very different from the whomping white whippin that my relatives in Colorado are enduring. Thus, hubby was able to decorate outside a little. (We are too old to be crawling up and down ladders!) I will try to post a photo, although all bets are off as I blog on this very old computer we have down at this house.

I have been sleeping very well and so, am surprised to find I have insomnia tonight. So, at least I have your blogs to keep me company.

Love

Remember when you were younger and in love? That certain someone made you catch your breath when they entered the room. You couldn't drink enough of them in with your eyes. If they sat near you, you would breathe deeply of their smell and have to sit on your hands so that you weren't constantly stroking their skin. Everything you did revolved around the magnetic pull of their personality.

When you were away from them your heart ached. You would find yourself drawing their name on paper or seeing their eye color in nature. A laugh might sound so familiar that your heart would jump as you turned your head and then your heart would crash when you would see it was someone else.

Well, today I am aching for my love. My hands feel empty because they have nothing to do for him. If I sit on the couch I miss his head against my chest and his hands in my hands as he drifts off to sleep. Yep, I spent the entire weekend beginning Friday night with Xman and it was wrenching (for the both of us) to separate on Sunday afternoon. I miss the smell of his hair, his quick smile, and those honest brown eyes that would study my face. His pleasure was so pure when we were doing something he liked. Even when he was grumpy, it was just a mild protest to let me know he still wanted to be the boss, yet, I eventually got my way.

This power that my grandchild has over me is a little scary but oh, so addictive. Even when totally exhausted after putting him to bed at the end of the day, I wanted that one last little smell and kiss before I would head down the stairs.

I was tagged by
Ask-the-painting-contractor-chickie.

"The Rules:
The player of this game starts with "3 things he/ she would love to get for Christmas" and also has to list "3 things he/ she definitely does not want to get for Christmas". Then he/she tags 5 friends and list their names. The ones who get tagged need to write on their blogs about their Christmas wishes, as well as state this rule clearly, then tag 5 more victims. And the one who tags need to leave a comment that says "you've been Christmas tagged!" in their comments and tell them to read your blog."

Three things I would like for Christmas:
1. Peace in Darfur (I could ask for peace everywhere, but I am afraid I won't get that).
2. I wish that on this planet with an abundance of food no one starves anywhere ever again.
3. Everyone gets on a save-the-planet bandwagon and changes how they live and how they spend their money so that the environment is once again in balance.

Things I DO NOT want:
1. Anything that requires hours of programming to work
2. Anything that makes me sit more than move
3. Anything that requires a battery


Most of my readers do not abide by tags, but I will see if Peruby, Tammy and Long-tooth want to play.

The A to Z Guide to Political Interference in Science

Yesterday I posted something from the world of information access and now here today from grrlscientist is even more exciting news from the world of science and research. Now if all the answers for you are in 'the book' than none of this makes any difference, does it? I just hope that the next doctor examining me and the next chemist creating my medicine and the next teacher teaching my grandson has read more than one book and has access to more than one library and doesn't second guess research results to be PC!

Back to the dark ages with the digital commons

Go here for some news on how your children and grandchildren will solve the world's problems! The photo is also a link.

http://www.courant.com/news/nationworld/hc-libraries1210.artdec10,0,7523072.story

Stirring the Crazies

I have been static in this apartment since last Tuesday with a five hour "work-break" at the office. I have been all alone this week and have only seen a young man in the elevator when I went to pick up the mail. He didn't see me, because at my age, I am invisible!

First stir:
Second Stir:

Third Stir:

Fourth Stir:
I have gotten tired of surveying every little thing in this apartment and waiting for my freedom.

Run Down Musings

Totally alone all weekend with my millions of alien microbes. How many boxes of kleenex does it take to win a war? I am suffocating in my own body fluids and yet the river continues to flow. What a disappointment to discover that flu shots are ineffectual. The genesis of all this was a babysitting consequence that I had volunteered for this Sunday past. That venue also has three sick people trying to make it through the hours. Thank the fates that hubby and son are thousands of miles away in the land of snow.

My arrival at work after three days of rest on Friday was not met with sympathy but by annoyed co-workers sending me home back again as if I carried the plague. (They were right, of course, but I had become so lonely, and there were deadlines.)

While the throat no longer is on fire and the body thermostat has leveled off, I still have a smarting chest, a pressure headache and insomnia. And all I can think about is all the holiday errands that have been shelved. (And how much refuse there is on cable when one has to pass the time.)

Could someone make me another cup of mint tea, puhleeze.

My Own Little Discovery Show

(This photo taken from http://www.johnsonmill.com/birding.html

I will get a telephoto someday!)

“Hey, Tabor, come look out the window!” hubby said with excitement in his voice

I looked at the direction he indicated and high on a snag above the river sat a bald eagle. Hubby ran to get the binoculars --- that expensive Swarovski set that I bought him five years ago and which has panned out to be one of the best gifts I ever got him.

He generously handed me the binoculars first to see the close up of our visitor. He was definitely a male in his prime. His colors were lustrous and his feathers full and rich in the cold afternoon. The eagle then gently lifted his wings and glided closer to another nearby snag. That is when I saw he had a fish in his talons. He landed on the branch and I could see the silvery menhaden flapping against the branch as it hung down caught only by one claw.

The eagle ‘eagle-eyed’ his domain and then took a small bite from his sashimi meal. The menhaden continued to flap while the eagle continued to nibble. This predator prey drama was not for the weak of heart. The eagle would pause between bites and survey the river at his leisure. This lasted for just a few minutes more.

Before long, a crow flew in to a branch just above and to the right of the eagle with intimidating body language and a noisy jabber indicating clear interest in the mid-day lunch. In a very short time a second crow joined him and landed just above the first. Both seemed to me to be too close to the eagle. Daring black bullies they were. Two more flew in and landed to the left of the eagle. One of these flew down looking for fragments of flesh on the forest floor.

The eagle had now changed from the leisurely meal with a view on the water to the fast food manner dictated by the nearby company and he soon finished the fish. He proceeded to clean his bill and claws on the bark of the tree and the crows eventually lost interest and departed.

The eagle sat on the branch for almost an hour longer letting us observe him and giving us an excuse to halt the Christmas decorating. Then he took off, swooping with breathtaking grace down the river making a dip at the far end…too far for us to see if he caught dessert.

Who Would Have Thunk It?

Guests:
This Thanksgiving my daughter and son-in-law were on travel. My son was the only one who was going to join us for TG Day. I could have called some friends, but was too lazy. They were also thinking about calling us and didn't! So there were going to be only three for the big meal.

Location:
We could have eaten down at the house using the new kitchen, but I had to work on Friday so that was a long drive back at the end of the big meal that I didn't want to make. We could have eaten at my son's condo which has a larger TV to watch games on, but my son indicated he didn't really care about the football all that much---Translation:" I don't want to have to clean the condo for you guys." We could have eaten out somewhere, but we took so long to plan that that option disappeared fairly soon. Thus, we ate at the apartment.

Decor:


Hubby generously brought home a bouquet from the market to brighten up the table. So not too much more decor needed for just two guys.

Menu:
In years past I went all out with the meal. I like to cook, hubby likes to cook and the kids even like to cook. So some made pies and side dishes and I would work on the turkey, stuffing and sweet potatoes and a special salad. Ah, but this is a lot of food to prepare for just three people in a tiny kitchen.

So this year we had 'take-out.' from Boston Market via the Giant supermarket. This box feeds 8 to 10 and costs $60.00. That comes to about $6.00 per person, the food is good if not outstanding, and there are leftovers and plastic leftover containers for everyone. All we had to do was reheat the meal in the oven and microwave.


I would never have thought of a Thanksgiving like this years ago. But I guess I am getting more mellow in my old age. Release the control, let go of the remote, put down that camera, hand over that turkey baster and just mellow out.

Thanks

Thanks for this big blue planet that keeps on turning in spite of all the assaults we place on it.

Thanks for the sanity of the people around me when things seem insane.

Thanks for the sparkling eyes and quick smiles of small children.

Thanks for love in all its strange configurations.

Thanks for one more day.

LIfe Story #5

A long time ago when I was living in a land of artists and spiritualists and peaceful people with violent rivers inside their souls (Indonesia) I took a batik course at the Palace grounds in Jogjakarta. I was taught privately by an old man who was as small as a goat and as brown as a coconut. He was always patient and smiling through his many missing teeth. He also taught batik to a class of young Balinese men, who were the real artists and devoted their lives to the medium, in early afternoons. I have had no formal artistic training ( unless you count the elementary teacher's art class I took in college many years ago), so his patience with me as I practiced in this very unusual medium was amazing. Of course he probably saw me as this rich, idle, American who helped him put rice on his table. I was too young to see myself in that way and I was also tutoring American children half days and desperately needed this artistic break.

In my memories I can visualize driving down a street toward the Palace past the Chinese men who cut hair and trimmed toenails at their stands on the narrow sidewalk.

My work would take place in a small room with bamboo walls and a dusty floor. It was so dark inside that I can remember looking through the spaces in the bamboo and seeing the lady who sold birds in cages on the sidewalk outside. The smell of the pine resin that was added to the wax was pleasantly welcoming when I arrived each afternoon. The dyes were strong and we washed the fabrics carefully in very hot water over a ditch outside behind the building. I purchased all the chanting tools, bowls and kerosine stove and was fascinated with the shapes and rustic metals of each one. I bought large blocks of wax and small blocks of pine resin and would melt them together for the correct mix. The dyes would come as fine powders in small plastic bags and I could not really tell the exact color I would get until I dyed the fabric.

At first all I did was try to copy the batik patterns I saw in the fabrics around me each day. Then I decided to try something original. The batik above was one of the very first pieces I did. It took quite a while between the washing out of wax and the application of each new layer of wax for the new phase of dye.

The subject appeared from nowhere into my head. Since I am allergic to cats I am not really fond of them, and I don't really know where the idea of this brown cat came from. I made him guilty, so I guess my lack of love for cats shows. I did a lot of needlework at one time and that was added. I also fell in love with a maidenhair fern that was growing on the wall behind my house in Jogja. All of these were added into my piece.

This batik has sat for decades folded in a box. My powderoom (with the famous sink) in the new house happens to go with these colors, so I spent a small fortune at Michaels getting it matted and framed. I have an Egyptian parchment cat that I framed to go on the opposing wall. No, the powderroom is not that big, and the batik just fits on wall, but that is the only room where it seems to fit in color.

The young woman who matted and framed it at the store kept praising it and several other patrons in the store also said it was a very nice work. I never thought about it much, but now I guess I can share it with you.

Found: One Tree Tanka

You may remember last winter how the burden of a heavy new snowfall caused a large branch from a pine tree outside my bedroom window to tear away from the trunk of the tree and fall heavily to the ground. It left behind a dramatic four foot white scar where the bark had been torn away. The painful burden of such a heavy new snow weighing against each needle was just too much for the tree. (I can relate to this in so many ways.) BUT this dramatic scar seems to have healed over almost completely. (Below not exactly pivotal in creativity...but I wanted to try thanks to Tammy.)

Hidden history
Shock and scars beneath the bark
Cambium bands true
Tomorrow grows the fair ring
Healing, hiding the past.

(I am not going to tell you where I found it...but those of you who have been blogging for a while will know!)

Currently Wondering About...

There goes that last little pixel...

I was working (sporadically) on a 'tree tanka'...motivated by that very talented Tammy. It had been sitting in my drafts folder for a couple of months, and finally, I decided that I was going to publish it even though I felt it needed a little more focused work. (I have this inner feeling that tells me if you are 'working' on a tanka it is no longer a tanka.) So I published it before I left for the house late on Thursday along with the picture of the tree that motivated my creativity. Virtual electronic spirits, whose primary diet must be pixels and digital bits of light or whose primary entertainment must be squirreling away pixels and bits of light, absconded with my post. I don't know if the post sits in their tummies (I wish them much indigestion) or if it lights the way down their hidden bandwidths. Where do posts go when they disappear in the ethernet? Do they end up on someone else's blog as a shockingly naked invasion? Do they sit in a place somewhere that will someday explode in bites all over the Internet? Do they evaporate into the atmosphere and are they a future carcinogen that we should be studying? Did this one go into a collection of tankas that sit in a folder somewhere just waiting to be re-discovered? Or perhaps, my tanka was so painfully bad that the Internet police decided that they just could not let it get by.

All I know is that I don't feel I can re-capture the thought any time soon.

Have a good weekend.

Two Personalities in the Marriage

Just a little grumpy. He is such a drama king, though.

I spent part of the weekend taking care of Xman who is not a happy camper since he cannot get around easily. He is slowly getting the courage to stand, but has to be distracted by something. Needless to say, he is getting tons of attention from everyone and has his own little party going on where he is the center. He is a flirt and loves to pretend he doesn't care that we are totally interested in him. We talked about how hard that will be for him, when in the future, he is treated like a normal child after the cast comes off and people tend to ignore him much of the time.

I am continuing to have issues at work as are several of my other colleagues with the same problem. I still haven't decided whether to just keep a low profile the next two years and do standard work, or try to venture out and be creative with projects and ideas even though there is a chance certain entities will fight me on anything they think will take the focus away from them. It is really hard for me not to be working hard on something. (My supervisor is being very understanding...whether she will do anything is another matter, of course.)

I was down at the house on Sunday bringing some end tables and lamps from the apartment. Hubby cleaned out the gutters which were full of leaves while I did three loads of laundry and went through several weeks of mail...mostly junk mail.

The bush by the dock has turned to snow.

Since we didn't get down there until almost noon the day flew by. The sun was setting as I was trying to sort some groceries for the freezer when Hubby came running in and said I had to get out to the dock and see the sunset. I was totally focused on a bunch of other stuff, but reluctantly relented. I took some photos and did some breathing in and out. I must have done something right to get this guy to marry me! He is so good about tapping into my zen moments when I am too busy being anal retentive and missing so much.


Dad was released from the hospital yesterday...things are looking up. I am smiling through the tears.

Just for Mannababies!!

Digging in for the Long Haul

(This is going to be a rant...so you can stop reading now.)

1. Can it get any worse? At work someone's supervisor (not mine) edited a report that I had veted through my supervisor (who is the overall supervisor) and proceeded to delete 40% of the content. I never got any feedback on that and her staff person was told to publish it ( I wouldn't have known except her staff person had a sense of ethics and was very uncomfortable about it). Guess what I will be doing early Monday when my supervisor returns to the office? At least I will be calmer by then and allow my supervisor to breath between my venting.

2. Then I got an email from the "colleague" who had called me stupid (and later apologized) asking for some input on a project. Since I didn't know anything about the project I asked for background, scope, meeting notes, etc. Her reply was that "I could leave you out of this input if you feel this way." Fortunately my supervisor and her supervisor were included in that snotty remark.

I remember that about two years ago I loved this job and was excited about coming to work and contributing. Now all I want is to stay out of everyone's way while they claw their way to the 'top.'

3. I am venting and under more than usual stress because, on the day that my Dad was supposed to go home from Rehab (two days ago), he contracted pneumonia (a rare virus or bacteria version) and is now back in the hospital. We are all checking on him daily and hope to finally have him home this weekend. He has lost his spirit and is frequently confused about where he is and what is happening. It is a common but still sad story. Send good thoughts (or prayers if you pray.)

4. The final note (I thought bad things happened in threes?) was that Xman in going down the slide at the park with his father twisted his leg and fractured either his tibia or fibula and is now in a cast for the next three weeks. He is not happy. So when I babysit tomorrow night, at least we will be on the same wave length/plane/fetal position.

Mine!

I think that 'mine' is one of the first words if not the first word that Xman learned in day care.

How Many of Me Are There?

Thanks to Robert Brady I tried this little survey.

Using my first name and my married name I found:

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 6 people with my married name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Using my first name and my maiden name (which was not my father's family's original name) I found :

HowManyOfMe.com

There is: 1 person with my maiden name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Finally, using what would be my real last name at birth without my ancestors feeling that they had to change it, I found:

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 0 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

I guess I am an original or maybe just strange. At least I wouldn't have to worry about changing my name if I joined the Actors Guild.

The Time Between Times

A number of years ago I had reached the time in my life that was after my children were on their own in junior high school but before I had become comfortable in my new role as 'lone adventurer'. Children had become a nice buffer for me on my life challenges. It didn't matter if I got lost or used the wrong product or dressed poorly or made a public mistake. I had two kids that were distracting me and who in turn could be used to distract the focus of others on me. I was an overworked mother who was allowed mistakes. My entire day revolved around their needs and the tight time schedule I had set for myself regarding family life.

I look back on that transition to adulttime now and wonder when I had accepted with blase the habit of using the kids as my invisibility cape, but I do remember the first time it was very strange to enter a restaurant as just me and to sit alone at a table and to order adult food and to eat the food all alone. (One of these times was in Houston at a conference in a restaurant across the room from James Darren at another table. Honest!) It was strange to drive in a car and not be distracted by munchkin battles or flying cereal or upset stomachs. It was strange to have free afternoons (though short) to go anywhere I wanted and to do what I wanted. Being the good Puritan I always ran the necessary errands before dinner.

Years ago I was in Raleigh, North Carolina with my husband who was attending a meeting. This left me with free days exploring on my own. I enjoyed walking the town and visiting the farmers market, but I eventually realized that I would have to take the rental car and do some country exploring to fill the final remaining day of the trip. Those of you who are born to explore cannot imagine why it would take courage to do this. But I was very uncomfortable with the thought of going out all by myself in a different car and reading a map all by myself to drive on different roads for several hours.

There was a recreational lake and state park about an hour away and I decided that adventure would be my afternoon. I studied the map, scolded myself about how childish it was to fear this little adventure and used my instincts and made it to the resort without a hitch. Weather was still warm and so there were quite a few families on picnics or boating on the lake. It was a lovely blue sky day. I explored the lake and then found a long path that walked around the lake. It was a very long path and I knew that I could not make the entire circuit, but I could walk a short way before my time to return to the car for the drive back to town.

I was twenty minutes into my walk when I saw grass movement just ahead and to the side of the gravel path and then I heard a gentle but somewhat familiar vibration/buzz. I could not stop myself, but had to get closer to see the source of the rattle. I just knew it was a small rattlesnake, but the closer I got and the nearer I peered into the grass the more insistent became the rattle. I never saw the snake as I would have had to reach out and part the grass and did not have the courage for that. But somehow, just then, I felt as if I had made some personal growth that day by testing my fear against my curiosity and feeling good about it.

I no longer felt odd as a single person.

Now I have a new time in my life. Twice in the last month I have had trouble finding my car in the parking lot at the shopping mall. I was sure about where I parked my car last weekend and walked back and forth down the parking row several times as darkness moved in before it dawned on me that the parking space I was searching was where I had parked on a prior night...not the current night! I then did some hard mindbending thought and remembered I had parked the car further up and around the store. This forgetfulness is not normal for me and I am afraid it is a small or maybe a large transition I must face as I get older. I know that this is a nice Saturday Night Live skit for many, but for me it was also a damn nuisance.

But as with everything, I guess I will have to take it One Day at a Time.

I Have Lost It

I have to head to a mindless meeting downtown today. I have resigned to finding my job the most boring time in my life and am counting the days/years until I can retire.

One of my colleagues whose has a child who is home with a mental relapse and who has the same mental illness herself, exploded at me at a meeting the other day and called me stupid. It was over something I said that she totally misunderstood (probably on purpose because she is very much on the defensive these days) and everyone in the room realized she was way off base, but it didn't stop me from getting stressed for the rest of the afternoon.

Now I have this all-day meeting that I am expected to attend (or not) and at which I just sit and take notes and really have nothing to contribute.

I am writing about my stupid job, because on top of all this, I wrote a blog about something else happening in my life late last night and Blogger ate it! I hope it gets indigestion.

P.S. OK, I take it back. The meeting was full of lots of interesting stuff about ...well about stuff that is related to the programs with which I am affiliated. It wasn't a wasted day after all, and now I have something good on my list. (Also, at 7:00 AM this morning my colleague came with hang-dog stance and apologized. I accepted the apology, but was thinking when you get that stressed it is time to stay home from work for a while because it ends up being a ping-pong mouse trap setup if you know what I mean.)