Silly

Once again Tabor encounters an eye-opening cultural event as she runs errands.  This time she was in the local Target department store trying to find lip gloss among other items.  I love Burts Bee's colored lip balm and no longer use lipstick since I discovered it.

I reached an aisle that was crowded with a young mother and her toddler sitting in a shopping cart.  At the other end of the aisle was a man in his 70's, well dressed, with a paper list in his hands.  He was scanning the shelves with a frown on his face.  The young mother carefully worked her way past him as she selected something from the shelf on the other side.  I was scanning the shelves as I approached slowly.

Suddenly he lifted his head and said in a rather loud voice, "Can you ladies help me?"

We both looked up accommodatingly.

"Do you know where the bar soap is?"

I looked down to the lower shelves just beside me and pointed as it was filled with various brands of bar soap.

"Okay, can you tell me where the Dove bar soap is?" he continued.

I hesitated, and then the young mother pointed just beyond me and said, "It is over there at the end of the shelf."

He smiled and moved slowly in that direction as we both moved down the aisle in the opposite direction.

He turned to us after we passed and said,  "My wife has broken her ankle and I have to do all this shopping!"   He groaned and then added, "Maybe I should just take her out to the back yard and hose her off and be done with all this soap!"

I explained that I had hurt my ankle recently and my husband had taken on the cooking, cleaning and everything else for several months.

He smiled.  "I can cook,  I just hate these errands and looking for all  this silly stuff."

I moved on to the next aisle thinking how lucky I was to be married to someone who was adaptable and didn't consider bath soap silly!

Bear Denigration

The scene is a small town post office (one that is not closing) where I am picking up my mail. Just around the corner I hear the voice of a woman and a small child.  When they turn the corner I see a woman whose age is hard to determine.  She has dyed blonde hair, is a little overweight, but could be the child's mother, grandmother or aunt.  The child is a small boy about five of mixed race.  The little boy has some type of electronic game or tablet in his hand that is taking most of his attention.

Mom:  Remember that big black bear on the TV?  Remember the man who was texting and not watching where he was going?  He almost got eaten by that bear!

Boy:  That was a BIG bear!

Mom:  And that man almost died!  He wasn't paying attention.  You need to pay attention.

They headed toward their car still talking.

I agreed with the Mom that walking and looking at an electronic screen were not the safest of things to do and certainly not safe when done by a little boy who had only learned to walk a few years ago.  But I am not sure that the correlation of being eaten by a bear when texting or playing a game is quite the argument I would have presented.  I think falling down and breaking one's nose was more compelling and certainly more likely or being hit by a car while crossing the parking lot.  Do we have to pick on those poor bears?

Where I Live

During my preteen and teenage years growing up on a chore-filled small farm in rural Colorado I longed to be anywhere else.  The world was full of sophisticated lifestyles and exotic locations and I was sure that I was missing out on all of it  As an avid reader of all kinds of books I knew that the world was turning fast everywhere else except in my little farming town.  The commonness of my hometown was suffocating my soul and my greatest promise to myself was to find a way out as soon as I could.

When I was 22 I managed to save enough to go to graduate school, and as luck would have it, there were only two or three schools with accredited programs in my field.  The cheapest one was in Hawaii.  I could afford the plane ticket, but not the place to live.  As my faithful readers know, I became an au pair to a nice middle class Jewish family on the island of Oahu and was able to attend graduate school at the same time.  Poor though my life was as a grad student, living in Hawaii was a phenomenal experience and fulfilled my earliest expectations on the rewards of seeing a 'distant' part of the world.  If you must be poor then the Pacific Islands are most accommodating to such a frugal lifestyle.  My story continued with even more distant travel upon graduation, lucky soul that I was, and my regular readers have heard tales on this.

I sit here this afternoon and listen to music from the Beamer Brothers.   Music is wonderful for taking us away and this one puts me on a slow moving outrigger canoe within sight of a beach.  The music is like soft waves on a distant shore.

My winter has been mild but still cool and while I love my woods, nothing is big-leaved green and exotically fragrant and the ocean is not in view filled with lovely colorful fish and exotic shellfish.  Fresh ripened fruit does not grow on nearby trees year round.  People who live on the Pacific Islands this morning wake up to a very different lifestyle.  Warmer air, sweeter smells, perhaps a slower pace for some islanders, and I am envious and I would live there in an instant during the cold winter days except for my loves that live nearby and hold me fast with a chord that is stronger than anything I can imagine. 

Is there another place on this great earth that sometimes calls to you and that you would live if you could?

(This was written before the news of the recent earthquake in the South Pacific, and I would still live there.)

In Sync

I am was staying in the hoitty toitty Palm Beach area of Florida.  The mansions are multi-million dollar monstrosities, the shopping is fantastic if you have the reserves, and just outside the luxurious resort areas are some very striking neighborhoods of poverty and crime. Yesterday afternoon, within a few blocks of the infinity edge swimming pool at one of the hotels, stood an inebriated woman dressed for her night work outside a nightclub, if you get my drift.

The place where I am staying is a place where people (usually from Chicago or New York) wear rather elaborate jaw-dropping jewelry to the swimming pool.  Their children are stocky verging on fat and have rather intense attitudes about who is in charge of their lives...they or their parents.  Then the parents open their mouths and you wonder where they got their education as well and you forgive the children.  (Sorry for my prejudices.)  Still the place is really uncrowded for an Easter week and my grandchildren can find plenty of room for fun either at the beach or one of the two pools or the playground. 

As I sit on the balcony of the condo where we are staying, I have my little grandson who will turn one in a few days in my lap with his heavy head resting against my breasts.  He is fighting stomach flu and lying lethargically with the side of his face tucked into my arm as he watches the waves greet the shore.  We are sitting outside because every time he sees one of his parents he demands they take him away from this old lady, but once they are out of sight, he is my little surrendered lover.  The only sound is that of  the soothing waves and some distant music from the swimming pools fifteen stories below us.  I am enjoying the way he has given himself over totally to my arms in spite of being in that stage where mommy and daddy are the preferred mode of transportation and rest.

An ocean breeze floats wisps of his baby hair up and down near my cheek. 

I sing a little lullaby and even though I am off-key he looks up at me with such adoration that I keep on singing.  He has that honest innocence of love in his eyes that your dog has when he sees you each day.  The kind of love you probably do not fully deserve, but are more than willing to take.

There is a three-quarter moon hanging in the mid-morning sky and the gang of 12 pelicans is making their routine morning rounds up and down catching the rising air drifts over the beach.  We both watch them wishing we could fly like kites up high.

I have caught his stomach flu and not been able to enjoy any of the expensive and inexpensive meals we have eaten out.  I have been on a liquid diet for 4 days with no appetite for anything including my favorite wine, but I really do not care when he is in my arms and we are avoiding the beach packing chaos that is taking place back inside the condo.  For this brief precious time in his life and mine, we are in sync and I am totally happy.

For You

I am on travel but always thinking of my readers and wanted to share this screen saver for those for whom spring seems a bit late.  This native columbine was one small plant two years ago and today I have at least 6 or maybe eight coming up!

Or perhaps you are in a blue mood and would rather have this one...

Difficulties in Aging---Not What You are Thinking

Ronnie at Time Goes By and Rain at Rainy Day Thoughts both wrote about aging and all its discomforts and our honesty with that.  So I had to add my two cents.

Remember when people carried you everywhere and wouldn't put you down so that you could explore freedom on your own...no?  Well at my age I can explore all I want and society provides artificial joints, walkers, mobile wheel chairs, pain killers and nice level boardwalks so that I can continue to do this exploration and I can do it on my own.

Difficulties in aging as a toddler:  I remember when I was a toddler the first time I hit my head on the doorknob, and I realized that getting taller had its disadvantages. The next time I had to wear pants that were too tight and a dress that cut me under the armpits because I had outgrown them overnight.  Now I am only slightly smaller than I was a few years ago and I have stopped growing and I like my height just fine, thank you. I no longer have to worry about doorknobs or clothes.  If I outgrow my clothes, it is my own damn fault.

I remember when getting dressed was something that required intense study.  The right length skirt, the perfect blouse, those awful bad hair days.  Those were my teen years.  Today getting dressed is primarily getting clean and finding something clean and comfortable to wear.  I sometimes care that I don't look like a bag lady, but I don't dwell on it, because I do not care all that much what others think about how I look.

I remember the strain of new job interviews, the pain of writing proposals, the agony of public speaking, the careful dance of arguments with colleagues and the constipation of biting my tongue during my adult years when dealing with a crazy person in the office.  I no longer worry about any of that stuff.  I will not argue with you if I think I cannot win you over to my way of thinking, but I also do not hide my beliefs nor fear them.  I will also listen to your side because I also do not think my beliefs are carved in stone.

I remember the agony of watching my children grow and leave me to pursue adventures of their own.  The sad dullness of an empty house and my being fired as a parent.  That was a real difficult age.  I have out grown that agony and in these elder years I find I can accept the fact that I must allow my children to make their own mistakes and live their own lives, because that is what I wished from my parents.  I also welcome all the free time I now have.

I remember during my 50's the concern and a little dread about aging and the difficulty of looking into those elder years ahead and becoming an old person who would have little to do with their time.  Now that I have arrived here, I find it is just like being a younger person.  It has its challenges and rewards and it is what you make of it.  Some of the challenges can be overcome and others must be accepted with grace and compromise, like that teenage figure you were given.  And the rewards at this time in my life are are a morning sunrise and and an evening sunset and all the time in the world to enjoy them.

So difficulties in aging are just a part of life at any age and if we did not have them, I am thinking we would not enjoy life nearly as much.

I saw an interview with the poet, Christian Wiman, who was diagnosed with a serious cancer in his 30's and I was amazed and pleased by the grace that he shows day to day.  So difficulties must be handled at every age.  Quit your whining.

The Mystery of Mist

Once we have checked out how the garden is doing and put to permanent sleep the weeds that have been awakened by spring we sometimes get the urge to take a drive and see how the rest of the land is doing.

We went for just such a drive the other day (the day I took those peach blossom photos in the orchard that I posted on my other blog) and as we headed across this large peninsula to the side that greets the large bay we noticed the fog had banked inland and was holding its own even though the morning was waning.  Since it was just before lunch we headed to a little town down the road.

A heavy fog rolls in off the bay on many of these spring days as the night air is just cold enough to capture the water and hold it, and if there is no wind, the mist just floats around hiding the corners of life.  This white cloud gets a short way inland and then the heat of the land and/or the heat of the sun seems to make it melt before our eyes.

This little town we reached was once an escape for city folk who were tired of summer heat and wanted a respite by the shore.  There is a small beach here and several nearby marshes that are just perfect for a change from city life.  It is still a tourist town, but the ability to travel greater distances to much larger beaches has pulled most of the tourists further away from this area, and I think that has helped this little community retain its charm.

The horizon line of the bay was hidden by deep fog and yet the warmth and quiet of the morning brought people out.  Various water birds were enjoying new algal growth or building nests. There were two naked toddlers playing at the edge of the water under the peaceful eyes of parents.  Three ladies sat in beach chairs and chatted quietly while one knitted.   And, of course, there were lots of dog walkers.

We took a walk along the newly constructed boardwalk beneath the spring blossoms of various trees and enjoyed the magical mist along with several others who had taken the morning off.  As with most small towns that have not yet been drowned in tourism people were ever so friendly and smiling.  We greeted them and patted their dogs on the head, commented on the strange weather, and talked about the good old days, even though we had shared different good old days.  It was lovely with temperatures in the 70s.  We had lunch at a small table just outside one of the local restaurants that was close to the local Post Office, which of course, provided us the perfect "Andy from Mayberry" experience...just thought I would share.

War is Addictive

My heart goes out to the family of the Army Staff Sgt. that I wrote about in the poem in the earlier post.  They suffer so much when he is stationed in danger and they worry about him every day when he is overseas.  They worry about his emotional happiness when he returns to a regular life style at home.  But they never expected this new hell that has entered their life.

When the expert talking heads were reviewing the situation, which was a violent and horrible killing of 16 Afghan civilians including children one evening outside a U.S. military base in that country, on television and discussing the diagnosis of PTSD they also talked about how many of those who are wounded in battle work very hard to return to the front as they feel they are needed to make sure that those they have left behind are covered.  The territory they must defend is not their homeland or their backyard but the area where those soldiers are stationed. The call of the brotherhood is stronger than anything else.  This is what war does to these brave young men.

Years ago I saw the movie The Hurt Locker which is a war movie created and directed by a woman.  It was a compelling movie to watch because it has a very different and more nuanced approach to the characters in the movie and the reality of war.  I remember a scene without dialogue where the protagonist who is on leave stands in a well-stocked store aisle looking for something on his wife's grocery list.  He just stands there as if looking at thousands of brands of the same product and as if he cannot possibly make such a complicated decision.  His brain just shuts down.  He finds himself in a surreal position.  He is OK with diffusing bombs but deciding on laundry soap is too crazy and too frivolous a waste of his time. He loves his family but grows more attached to a young Iraqi boy in the village where he is stationed.

Clearly this Roger Bale's brain just shut down over something else on his 4th tour to this area after being wounded twice.  War is hell and I continue to wonder about all those young men that will return in the coming year who have had their senses honed for battle and we ask them to return to a 'normal' life.

Dying Tulips

 

Red tulip petals fall to the ground

Not as precious as the splash of blood on desert sand,

But lovely in their death no less.

This early spring day is so quiet it makes you panic.

The bird chatter so squeaky I see you wince.

I saw you study the warm wind out of the East

And I felt the anxiousness growing in your soul.

The time of year for contact was upon them once again.

And you wanted to go and shout once more

I got your back,

I'VE GOT YOUR BACK!

You wanted to return

And finish

And be a part of the final push.

The winter was almost behind them now.

They no longer hunkered.

They no longer bunkered.

They were no longer cold statues in camouflage

Watching sand rifts come and go

Against the walls of empty houses.

The spring was upon them as well

Calling for

A patrol to revolutionize the villages

To win the trust of the poor

And to kill all the others.

My tulips will stop blooming soon

And I will stare into space

Remembering when you helped me plant them.

(First Draft)(For Sgt. Robert Bales)(Just one more comment and I will move on, I promise.)

Down Music Lane

As a young girl coming of age I never had money for records and popular music was not on TV quite yet. I did have a little transistor radio (the size of a deck of cards) that I got from somewhere and I would listen to it at night when I did my homework. The very first performers that caught my imagination were the Everly Brothers. They would become a little too country for me as I changed toward more "sophisticated" tastes.  But at the age of 12 and 13 I could listen to them forever and just fly on that harmony...and I think it was years before I even knew what they looked like.  Their harmony was stupendous to someone who was from a non-musical family.  I listened to the Beach Boys and while I liked Elvis, I was not crazy about him.  When the teenage generation got to have their own TV shows such as American Band Stand and Ed Sullivan, I was introduced to Paul Anka, and those great musical icons, The Beatles.  Holding the core of the pure liberal that I was destined to become I eventually moved on to loving folk singers and those with a message like Simon and Garfunkel,  Joan Baez and the Mamas and Poppas.  

If you stroll down your musical memory lane, who was the first group or singer that captured you as a teenager or pre-teen?


Boy does THIS ONE bring back memories. Yes, it is a little hokey and unsophisticated by today's tastes. But that harmony is an endless reward.

Gifting

The boot is off and I have been instructed to keep exercise and hiking at bay for another 3 weeks. But I feel free at last. So, to celebrate, I am gifting to my readers my corner in spring glory.  Have a nice week!

My Little Corner

When I built this expensive house (while I am not part of the 1% I did save substantial money by living overseas for several years) I knew that I would probably want space for a few indoor plants.  I included a corner at the end of my kitchen that had a strip of tile next to the wooden floor for protection.  The windows in that corner do not have the glaze on them that filters full sunlight and protects objects from fading.  These windows while double glazed are just plain windows.  They face the Southwest side so that my plants get plenty of winter sun.  In a few weeks when the dangers of very cold nights are gone most of these plants will head outside.  The amaryllis will be done blooming and will be tucked away in a place below the deck but near my patio where they will remain unnoticed until I bring them in for a dormant period in mid-October.  They are removed from their pots, the soil shaken away and the bulbs put in black garbage bags and kept in the coldest part of my basement until January where I start the process all over again.  This year because of my ankle injury I was going to abandon them totally, but hubby generously planted them out and while I would have selected other pots, he did a good job as I have beauteous blooms this time of year.  (I still have the other tropical bulbs in the basement waiting for freedom!)

The tiny tree in the middle on the top shelf is my calamondin lime tree.  I replaced it last year as the one I had purchased a few years ago was stressed in some way and the roots never grew.  The other large tree on the right is my kaffir lime tree.  One of the most interesting plants.  I use both the limes and the leaves in Asian cooking.  It does need full sun through the winter and is somewhat temperamental, but you can see it is going to overtake the space.  In the late spring it goes out on the deck.  I protect it with cloth for a few days so it can adjust to the more intense light, but it eventually adapts and enjoys the summer months.

The jasmine in the white pot was a sale purchase for about $4.00 and looked really sad until I revived it.  I don't think the little white blooms are fragrant enough unless you really get close, so it may be a sale item for the Master Gardeners plants sale this spring.

The ugly grasses are lemon grass which my husband insisted on wintering over.  I find that cooking with lemon grass is a real challenge as ones that grow in this climate are tough and not as flavorful as they are in the tropics.  These two will go outside into the garden next month and they will take off like gang busters, but I am still lobbying for their demise in the fall.

The lime green pot contains a geranium.  They are easy to purchase new in the spring, but I always save at least one for the winter months and pinch it heavily to keep it from being too spindly.

Hidden in the back on the bottom shelf are my succulents.  They survive very well if ignored.  They will go outside soon.  Then this corner might return to an area for a summer buffet table.  (You know, like on Downton Abbey...a side board where hot breakfast waits for guests...yes, I am joking here.)

The Time is Ripe

I have developed a schizophrenic personality.

I have hated this boot and all the compromises that it has made me make.  Spring is teasing outside and I have so much gardening that has fallen behind schedule.  I have turned the corner of my living room into a cluttered office so that I can have everything within reach reducing my need to get up, but it looks so much like an old person's corner.  I can no longer just run upstairs to work on photos, but have to schedule it as part of my day so that my stair climbing is done only once.

Still and yet, I have passively enjoyed being a slug.  It is nice to make meal suggestions and get hubby to do most of the cooking (thank goodness he is a reasonably good cook) and to outline the household chores that need to be done for the week and assign myself all those chores that can be done while sitting...such a folding clothes.  It is great to give him a list of things to bring up from the basement to replenish the larder or the bathroom cleaning supplies.  It is nice to be able to say no to volunteer requests without guilt.

On this Tuesday I get another x-ray, and if the orthopedist confirms, I can take this monster off and return to a "normal" life.

One of the first priorities will be re-entering the world of exercise...I do hate that, but it is a must do or die earlier from immobility.  Dynamic change does not fit easily on one's shoulders as one ages.

It is Now Everywhere

I read the book that the scientific writer in this video wrote and it is very compelling but not as much as this video.  Since I had Lymes over a decade ago and caught it early, I am one of the lucky ones.  This video makes a very strong case for getting Federal oversight on health care.  If not the profit makers will walk you to your grave.

Post Script.  I was surprised at how the disease has spread throughout the world and also how varied all the side infections and parasites can be.

Moment of Zen

Since I have been doing nothing and thinking too much (RL, marine lawsuits, etc.) I will provide (as Jon Stewart says) a moment of Zen.

PEACE!

Filling Time

As I am on my own for two more days (hubby has met up with the kids and their kids at Disney World and they are sooo happy to meet him and take advantage of the ratio of three adults and three children that he has agreed to stay for another day) I am settling in further to this extended being-on-my-own mode, hoping I do not get to like it too much.  I am now eating my dinner on the couch in front of the television.  I have become a slug, a slob, a sliver of my former self, except I have probably gained pounds so sliver is not the most accurate image here. 

I am like my son...or my son is like me...ask his girlfriend.  She said many of his friends have told her that they see him so much more now that he is dating her.  They say he used to hold up in his apartment in the evenings and on weekends working on his music, but they are glad she now gets him out and about.  This sounds like the roles my husband and I play in life.  He is the gregarious get-me-out-of-the-house one.

I have tucked away in this house for days, except for one day when I went shopping and ran a few errands taking my boot off to drive and then putting it on to walk through the supermarket. I did get out one warm afternoon to prune my roses which were beginning to leaf out.  Of course, my foot has made me be cautious and as immobile as possible in the house and I have been amenable to that excuse.  I have heard too many stories of people falling and breaking something else when wearing the boot!  AND I really want it to heal, but there is nothing on TV (rarely is there ever) and I have almost finished reading "A Thousand Acres" and my own novel is stuck on Chapter 6 already.

The person that I am trying to interview for the Master Gardener program has not returned my 4 phone calls...guess that is a wash and I will not try to take it personally.  One of my neighbors called to see how I was and my hubby's hostess in Florida and I had a nice chat, but my voice has not been used for much else these last 10 days.

The days are so gray that photography is only an ambition.  Even the sunsets are silver at night. 

I have had so much time to bird watch that I can tell the difference between the various tufted titmice that visit the deck feeders and almost have reached the stage of giving them names.  One has lost his tuft.  He looks so effete and lonely and I wonder where he misplaced it.

I bought the movie "The Way" on cable and it is a nice ride (walk) through Spain/France with Martin Sheen.  His sons are very talented...even the one with issues.  I have watched two different versions of  "The Phantom of the Opera" on TV and listened to every Keb Mo album that I own all this afternoon.

But too much of a good thing is really too much of a good thing.  (Why do I think I have written that before?) 

All Alone

I have been alone since February 24 and will be alone until late on March 3 or mid-day on March 4th.  For those of you who live alone regularly, this is like writing that you have eaten a breakfast in the morning.  For those of you newly alone on a permanent basis it is, perhaps, like a reminder of a bad dream that you thought you had woken from.  For everyone else it is just reading someone's blog.

My husband, whom I love more than I show him and not as much as he deserves, has taken off on a wilderness voyage with two men older than he into the depths of the Everglades for several days by canoe.  This is in reality a dangerous trip, but I have heard today that he is safe, and since he is the best canoe guide I ever knew, I am relieved.  They are all seniors...he is mid-60's and one is mid-70's and the last has just turned 80.  What possesses men to insist they can recreate their youth is something we all understand.  But those of us married to them feel more like parents rather than spouses.

I have enjoyed the quiet mornings when I can lay in bed and read with the second and third cup of coffee.  I have enjoyed the quiet of my house with only my sighs to mingle with the wind and unscheduled grazing and meals that seem to fall together rather easily.  But I am ready for his energy and crazy ideas and desire to make the day last long after sunset.  I am ready for him to return. 

She Writes It Much Better Than I Can

A Slower Pace

I Used to Be One of These...

...and I am proud of that fact!

Six Degrees

"Six degrees of separation refers to the idea that everyone is on average approximately six steps away, by way of introduction, from any other person on Earth, so that a chain of, "a friend of a friend" statements can be made, on average, to connect any two people in six steps or fewer. It was originally set out by Frigyes Karinthy and popularized by a play written by John Guare. "   More on this statistical premise can be found here.

Grannieannie posted that her Goddaughter was once again attending the Oscar ceremony and that she would be watching TV to see her.  This got me thinking about the 6 degrees theory.

I live in the woods. Just outside my woods about a mile away is a small shopping center that has the name of my town because it has the Post Office. Just 4 miles from there is a little seaside tourist town...very little. Across the river is another town supported by a large military base, but consisting mostly of strip malls and chain restaurants. None of this area suggests a sophisticated community.

Two days ago while getting my hair cut in a walk-in shop my young white hairdresser was talking about the death of Whitney Houston.  She said that she had cried for the entire day.  While I was a little concerned about her stability she went on to explain that she was a high school friend of Toni Braxton and still emailed her on a regular basis.  She said that Toni had her issues with fame and fortune and that my hairdresser was concerned about her sometimes.  When I went home and did some research, I found that Braxton had indeed lived in a small town not too far from here.

Last month I ate dinner at a friend's house and while we were enjoying his grilled oysters he asked us if we had seen the movie with Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock titled Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.  I explained that since it was about 9/11 I still could not see movies on this quite yet (if ever).  He then went on to explain that the young boy with the major roll in the movie was the son of a close friend of his in California and had literally fallen into the role, and therefore, they felt some obligation to see it.

This next is not a true 6 degrees because I did not know someone who knew someone...but a few decades ago I spent an hour with Morgan Freeman watching a street show in Bermuda.  We did not talk to each other but did smile and enjoy the music together and did stand "incredibly close."  I recognized him from the Public Television show Electric Company...and although he had started acting he was not nearly as famous as he is today.


Here is a true 6 degrees and only two degrees.  My daughter and her husband did have a leisure dinner with Rob Lowe and his assistant about a year ago.

Do you have a 6 degree's anecdote from the entertainment industry that you would like to share?

Belated Post

In the United States on the third Monday of the month of February we celebrate a holiday called President's Day.  This day was set aside to honor our Presidents.  Since it is close to Washington's birthday, our first president, we Americans are very efficient and made it into two holidays.  We also combined Abraham Lincoln's birthday into the celebration since his falls into the middle of the month.  Are we not efficient?  If we were one of the more socialist countries we would certainly make sure that we had three full days to holiday during the month of February.  But we are a nation that honors that Puritan work ethic...or pretends to.

Since we have long since given up treating our country's leaders with any respect as they continue to prove our idiocy in electing them, this holiday is somewhat an anachronism for us.  Citizens usually shop (President's Day sales), sleep, drink, or get together with friends and eat.  Rarely does anyone discuss anything about our Presidents --- past, present or future.

During this past President's Day (February 20) we, like many grandparents, babysat our grandchildren since most schools are closed.  But on the Sunday before, I decided I wanted to see the Annie Leibovitz photographic exhibit that was free at our Smithsonian Museum of American Art.  I was not allowed to take photos at this exhibit, so if you want more information about this artist and the exhibit you need to go here.  She is a very interesting lady!

The Museum of American Art was completely remodeled a few years ago and it is just lovely.

Anyway, I was allowed to take photos in the President's Portrait Gallery wing which was just down the hall and therefore, I will share some (just a few) of those with you.  I know that this is the first time in my life I have even been in this gallery and certainly the first time close to the holiday that honors them.  I am sure you will notice the tremendous variety of artistic styles and one has to assume that the President's approved of these...although in some cases I wonder why.

I Support Scientific Research

I do so need to move this election on. I do not live in a state that is being bombarded with election ads. As anyone who reads this blog knows I am a liberal with fiscal conservative leanings and definitely a progressive.  I do not fear the discoveries of science and Republicans seem to be anti-science with preventative care for women and global warming denial among other science subjects.  I know that science can introduce dangers and can diminish the importance and beauty of life.  But I also know that science has saved us so many times (polio, salmonella, prostheses, understanding our planet, weather predictions, creation of fabrics and products that make our lives so much easier, etc., etc and even MORE etc.)

I do not understand why this fear is so overpowering and that makes me so sad.  Our education system is not keeping us in the forefront of producing dynamic and smart people and other countries are fast at our heels.  But this article really depressed me. 

These links disappear so fast but here is the start of this article if you cannot find it:

" A large group of Americans fear what Science is "under siege," top academics and educators were warned repeatedly at the American Association for the Advancement of Science meeting as they were urged to better communicate their work to the public.

Scientific solutions are needed to solve global crises -- from food and water shortages to environmental destruction -- "but the public now does not understand science," leading US climate change expert and Nasa scientist James Hansen told the meeting.

"We have a planetary emergency, and very few people recognize that."

The theme of the five-day meeting, attended by some 8,000 scientists from 50 countries, was "Flattening the world: Building a global knowledge society."

"It's about persuading people to believe in science, at a time when disturbing numbers don't," said meeting co-chair Andrew Petter, president of Simon Fraser University in this western Canadian city.
Experts wrangled with thorny issues such as censorship, opposition from religious groups in the United States to teaching evolution and climate change, and generally poor education standards.

"We have to plan for a future, considering the risk of climate change, with nine to 10 billion people," said Hans Rosling, a Swedish public health expert famous for combating scientific ignorance with catchy YouTube videos.

Rosling, pointing to charts showing how human populations changed with technology and how without science the majority of a family's children die, said it is naive to think that humanity can easily go backward in history..."

Spamming Along

It didn't take long. Two spam comments to older posts on this blog. But since I have comment moderation on for older posts they did not make it to publish!

That NASTY Word Verification

I went back to the old interface and saved the remove word verification process.  Would you all let me know if this works.  I will leave this setting up for  several posts and see if it increases spam comments.  I agree with everyone that the new word verification interface that Blogger has implement is a DISASTER.  You all  keep me posted and I will do the same for you!  Then if it seems to work, I will assist anyone else in this process.

One Woman's Taste

Grannie mentioned in a recent comment to my post below that she had ordered a baked sweet potato as part of her Valentine's dinner last week. The waitress asked if she wanted cinnamon and brown sugar on it and she replied that she preferred sour cream and butter. The waitress looked at her as if she had ordered something really odd. Since neither of these are super healthy toppings, the critique had to be for another reason, such as personal taste. It was off-putting to Grannie since she was the customer!

During my visit to Charlotte, NC, I celebrated an early Valentine's Day with two dinners in fancy restaurants.  ENSO and Blue if you want to check them out, you can click on the names.  Blue had tremendous attentive service and the food was good if not great although they were right-on with the wine pairing.   ENSO on the other hand was high energy and certainly for the young.  We were the only gray heads in the restaurant, but did not feel out of place in anyway. The room was filled with young music, beautiful young girls eating dinner and being waited on by handsome male waiters, some of whom most certainly should have been gay, they were so perfect in appearance.  The food was excellent!

But as we left Charlotte that Sunday and since it is an 8 hour drive for us, we had to have lunch mid-way somewhere.  We stopped at some chain restaurant whose name I do not remember.  I had been eating heavy all weekend and chain restaurants are not known for their healthy food.  Therefore on one of the sides to my fish dish I ordered veggies and dip rather than fried rice, french fries, etc.  The waitress a short and stocky black women looked at me and smiled.  "You don't want that.  Are you sure?"

I asked her, "Why not, were the veggies old or something?"

She replied, "No, but it is just raw vegetables with ranch dip.  You REALLY want that?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Are you sure?"  she repeated.  Then she made a face and said, "OK." as she wrote down my order.

I do not mind wait staff telling me about problems with certain dishes based on their opinions, but critiquing my taste in food is something else.

Label Reading

Since I am more inactive than ever with my boot I try to eat healthy.  I also am trying to eat less.   I try to keep calorie rich snacks out of the house except for company.  Hubby now does most of the shopping and came across these chips at the market and knowing the I like sweet potatoes thought I would like these.  I did not intentionally cut off the top word on the bag, but I think it was something about how healthy food "Should Taste Good."  The tiny print in the very middle is what should have been read more closely.  It says "All Natural Tortilla Chips."  Unlike 99% of America, I am not a big fan of tortilla chips unless they are those light ones freshly made at the Mexican restaurant.  I can eat a few of the bagged tortilla chips but not with much enthusiasm.  These sweet potato chips didn't remotely taste like sweet potatoes.  They were not light like chips but hearty and thick.  I turned over the bag and read the ingredients.

Sweet potatoes are the third ingredient after corn and fat.  I also find the euphemism of "Evaporated Cane Juice"  just a little insulting!  I hate when companies do this!

Drum Roll

I wrote the names on my legal tablet and then cut them in identical little pieces and put them in the basket. With my eyes closed I drew out the winner...and the winner is Mage from Postcards! She has a lovely home, so I hope my photograph fits somewhere. Mage, my email (the one I use for blogging only and rarely check) is Sec66M at comcast.net. Please send me your mailing address and I will send you the canvas as soon as I can.

Honesty

Friko posted recently about how polite we are in our comments to other bloggers.  She compared this to the advertising that tells us what we want to read about ourselves so that we will buy their products. "You are a smart woman so you really should try this." I do think that we are usually very kind and complimentary in our blog comments.  I know that I have never told anyone that their post was interesting and just needed a grammatical correction here and there and should probably have a more concise conclusion.  I actually don't think I ever thought it even!  I would never mention typos since I am the Queen of those.  I also know that I am most strongly attracted to those blogs that seem transparent and honest.

I think that perhaps we are kinder to our readers than we would normally be because we want them to continue to read the daily stuff we write; maybe they can improve their writing skills by reading us.  We want them to enjoy our breakfast descriptions, our new purchases, our baby pictures, our fun with pets events, our music choices and above all our daily angst and whining.  In exchange we will endure their goat's antics, their garden photos, their dirty cartoons and their painful poetry...and in Tabor's case, her overuse of the period as a pause feature.

When I commented on Friko's post I explained that I tell the truth 99% of the time, which perhaps most of us do.  If I cannot write anything nice I will NOT make a comment.  Of course, this does not mean that my lack of comments on your blog post means I did not like it.  I  might not have read it, might have figured I had nothing to add, or might not have understood it enough to comment, as I can be a little thick.  I do not follow most of the many fiction writers blogs, but I guess if I did I would be glad to critique their work honestly if they asked...but I could only critique as a reader, as I do not see myself as a good editor.   On other types of blogs, daily journal types, if someone was writing about some difficult time in their life and I thought that they were in a rut and whining too much, I probably would not comment honestly because I have no idea what stage of their life they were in and whether I had the full story of this drama.  Even most honest writers can only write about their lives through the glasses that they are wearing.  And if someone else spent too much time writing about their cat, I would not comment with "What a bore you are becoming."  I wouldn't be reading their blog in the first place.

Most of us do not get paid for this sterling prose that we type, and therefore, really do not deserve a critique. Some of us have the time and interest to create meme challenges, award icons and links to those posts we read that impress us.  That keeps the soup stirred so it doesn't burn and also helps us meet each other.

I am off on a trip to Charlotte, North Carolina for an early Valentine's getaway and will complete the drawing and announcement on the prior post when I return.  I only got a dozen blogger's interested which may say more about my photography than it does about interest in my blog!  Oh well, I am not going to dwell too long on either painful thought.  Play nice while I am away.

Free Art Giveaway and Charity Donation

Okay I have decided that the best way to get this photo out to a 'winner' is to have my readers post a comment to this post, not just any comment that says you want this photo, but a comment below with a few sentences on your favorite charity or cause and why you give to it.  It can be local, national, and anywhere in between.  It is just to get you into the hat for the drawing.  I will leave this post up until  Thursday at 4:00 PM  East Coast time.  I will then draw a name and ask for the mailing address of the winner and get this package wrapped and mailed...free of charge even if it goes overseas.  See the post below for a reminder of the picture printed on canvas and the dimensions of the canvas frame.  Remember, even if it does not fit your decor, it might make a good gift for someone you know.  And as an extra little bit of motivation and so I am not embarrassed by the lack of interest in my artwork, I will donate $50.00 to the charity of the selected reader.  Happy Early Valentines Day to you all!

Gifting

This is a photo I took about two years ago when some little white ducks swam close to the dock at sunset.  I had it printed on canvas and it is 16inches  by 20 inches approx.  I actually, accidentally, printed two of them and have this as an extra.  It has been sitting in plastic under my bed, and the recent painting of that room brought it once again to my attention.

I think it would make a nice give-away to one of my lucky blog readers...but I have no idea about the best way of going about that.  Any ideas??  Should I just ask if anyone wants it and then draw names from a hat of the responders?

Because some of you asked...!

In Denial?

Now that I have made my readers (the handful that keep coming back for more of this pap) all anticipatory, I am feeling a little guilty.  But it is the writer's goal to get readers hooked on the next post ...right? 

My purchase, that expensive foot covering, designed in Switzerland, comes in the following styles:  Safari Plus, Rocky Plus, and Rocky High. From these names you might assume that it is an 'active wear' item.  Mountain climbing or desert hiking, perhaps?  Mine also comes with an accessory to make sure I have a custom and comfort fit, indicating I can wear such style for a long time with no fatigue.  One of the reasons for the expense.

The Safari Plus is a perfect fit for me because I like to walk like an Egyptian and most people who know me will tell you that I am frequently in De Nile.  Ooops.  Sorry.  I know.  Pretty painful.  And, no I have not had several glasses of wine...just my second cup of coffee this morning.  I can write stupid quite well without alcohol, thank you.

(Quit stalling, Tabor, and post the damned photo, already!)

Notice the solid construction, the sleek lines and the fancy accessories and stitching.  Needless to say I only bought one and actually Medicare paid for it...after waiting for 15 minutes for my doctor to call the powers that be and get permission.  Last year my insurance would have covered it without incident, but now that Medicare must be my primary insurance I must be more suppliant.

This is the air pump that makes the boot customizable.  Now, since I actually own this piece of crap stunning hardware/software, I am thinking of going to the store for glitter paint and flower stickers to customize it even more.  I have to wear it for (at least) the next six weeks.  I am soooo excited.  Imagine all the small talk conversation starters I now have!  Imagine how many times I get to tell the same story over and over and over!  And even better, wait until my children see this and begin the lecture of "I told you so!"  I am not telling them.  Although my ever so honest husband will delight in sharing the news.

Okay...enough complaining.  At least I have avoided any surgery and/or the worse-case-cast.

Ooo-eee

Oh my goodness.  Went shopping and got shoes.  $600.00 a pair.  Photo to follow if you want to see them.

It Is Complicated

While cleaning out my closet after the painting fiasco I came across my soapbox.  It was a little dusty, so I cleaned it off and now that it looks so shiny and sharp I must stand on it for a bit.  Go get something hearty to drink as I would like you to be polite and listen through to the end... I am waiting... Go on, I won't fall off this thing.  I do have a lot to say.  (If you do not live in the U.S. you can go finish your laundry now and come back another day.)

Liberals are happy that we have a president who is cool and intellectual and who will not start a war if he can negotiate or spy his way out of a situation.  Conservatives want a president who has their back 24/7 and is not afraid to say so.  They like the fact that Rick Perry carries a loaded gun when he jogs.  You can never be too ready to kill something.  It would be so easy if we could always tell the good guys from the bad guys and if all we needed was a Sheriff.

The problem is that this is not the issue that will get us out of our mess today.  There is not a president that we would elect from either party or even an independent who would not go to war and protect us if necessary.  The defense department is ready to defend us at any cost and reminds the leader of the free world of that everyday.  Of course, I believe that starting some of these wars at any cost could lead to the destruction of the planet since a lot of hot heads are waiting for an excuse to defend their country against the "Imperialist America" and they now have the means to do so.  War is never a solution only a regret.  It is complicated.

But what about our internal enemies?  The real battle is that between the haves and have nots.  And I wish it was just the simple picture that the 1% versus the 99% argument seems to try to make.  It is not.  Jobs cannot grow without substantial compromise to the environment,  to workers health, and to reduction in regulations.  There are just as many CEO's (percentage wise) who care not one bit about their workers safety, job security and health, and who cheat each day as there are workers who put out the minimum at work, game the system, steal from the job and scream discrimination when they are fired. There are those in the 99% who will only take the job they were educated for and there are those who are so lazy they live off their relatives and what welfare they get ( I am related to someone who does this.)  Mitt Romney, whom Newt Gingrich  Perry called a "vulture capitalist," was doing the job he was paid for and doing it very well and it appears legally.  He worked for the stock-holders and he made them money.  It was not his job to create jobs.  It was his job to reduce costs, labor being a big one.  And we could argue all night about how patriotic it is to game the system and keep your money off-shore to avoid paying your full taxes.  But he played by the capitalist rules.  It is complicated.

All the rest of us who are in the majority in both classes have to decide if we will trade a little more polluted air and water for warmer or cooler homes, cheaper food, cheaper clothing and products and the ability to keep one more job in the families of the 99%.  This decision is very hard, because those of us who make it will probably not see or be affected by the increased pollution.  It will most directly impact those we do not know, and our unborn. 

We have to decide if we will pay more (in taxes or direct costs...it makes no difference) so that everyone can get health care in the wealthiest country in the world.  Or we could lobby our Congressperson to pass a law that says hospitals do not have to take in accident victims or dying people if they have no health insurance.  I wonder if those who took the Hippocratic oath would turn the dying away if it wasn't against the law?  I wonder if we could sleep at night with people lying hopelessly at the doorsteps of hospitals as happens in many third world countries currently?  Or we could compromise our freedoms and require everyone who can afford it, to buy health insurance, so at least we do not have to pay for them!  It is complicated.

I believe that anyone who is financially secure should not take social security, but I am only financially secure as long as Wall Street does not allow their greed to bring the stock market to it knees once again.  This can only happen with strict regulation of financial markets by government bureaucrats.   I will be dependent on Social Security if these regulations are not held, but I am among the 99% when it comes to having a voice in lobbying Congress about the banking and investment industry.  My voice is tiny until we have financial election reform and EVERYONE gets an equal voice.  If you think anyone, including the Koch Brothers or Greenpeace, lobbies just for your interests, boy are you so very wrong.  I also believe that the age should be raised on Social Security to keep it solvent as our life length has changed since it was created, but I did not perform heavy lifting, work at furnaces, or perform other hard physical labor into my late 60's and I have no injuries from that.  So this also is complicated.  I do not think Social Security should be abolished.  It works.  It has kept society secure.

With a nod to that crazy old anti-Semitic running for office, I believe that foreign aide should be reviewed, but as public television reported recently, 94% of money put out by USAID comes directly back to American companies and contractors. Thus, it seems we also game this system, and reducing foreign aide could reduce jobs in this country.  Much of our foreign aide is hidden through Defense spending and dare we review that?  There is a reason that the Washington, DC area and surrounding suburbs are more recession proof and it is not because they house government workers.  They house lobbyists and those contractors they work for who get paid in Federal dollars. 

And, of course, we cannot forget the call for smaller government.  County? State? Federal?  I was a bureaucrat for many years and through much more than a decade we created smaller government by attrition.  It is not the best way to reduce labor, but as people left or retired no one took their place, and if the job was important, it just went on the back of someone else who did it half as well, overburdened as they were by the prior year's attrition.  This is why no one answers your phone call, or if they do, they seem inattentive.  When we finally got down to a skeleton crew and it began to impact service we were allowed to hire contractors.  Mine was not the rich Defense Department, and therefore, our contractors were somewhat like slaves.  The money went to the lowest bidder which meant the contractors made less money, got far fewer benefits, were laid off at will and we slowly developed a culture of them and us.  Not the best atmosphere for service to the taxpayer.  There is a better way to reduce government.  The Department of Commerce, the one of the three(?) that Perry wants to abolish, claims that its job is to improve the economy and help create jobs.  Ironic that we would cut that department, is it not?  Actually, this is one of the few areas that I agreed with Perry.  Commerce has grown into a mess and could certainly be reviewed and re-organized under other departments, although I am betting that Perry and I would probably disagree substantially on the details.  And Perry is not really a detail man anyway!

I believe that the majority of us, rich and poor and in the shrinking middle, do want pretty much the same thing and we care about our brothers and sisters when we see them as the human beings they are; so we better tread very carefully in this finger pointing and name calling.   Neither skin color, religious affiliation, nor the size of the house you live in tells us about your honesty, willingness to work hard, or moral character.  Only how you have lived your life and how you now live it everyday tells us that.  (And if you claim that your God thinks you are special and tells you things clearly and directly, like who or if you should run for office, you are a very scary person to me.)

(P.S.  Yes, I know that Perry is no longer running for office.  But with all the 'colorful' GOP candidates this year, I could not exclude him from this one post.)

Watching Paint Dry

My recent weekend consisted of bringing home paint chips from the hardware store, putting them against the wall of my master bedroom and agaisnt the oriental rug on the floor, deciding on a hue, purchasing a gallon of the best quality paint they had and painting the bedroom.  (Cannot get in to see the ankle Doc for another week...so ankle be damned...and it was.)

My house is five years old.  It has settled somewhat on the bedroom side.  There is a slight chance it would settle further down into the ravine...but I am optimistic that won't happen while I live here.  But settling does create hair-line cracks around window frames and doors, and last year, my husband, who became frustrated with my putting off the painting project, proceeded to patch the cracks with Spackle.  Then he went to the basement to get the then 4-year-old paint that we had used when the bedroom was initially painted and covered all those nice white patches he had created.  The paint had changed, of course.  It looked like he had painted over with a color that resembled old poo instead of soft mushroom.   We lived with that ugliness for a year and finally this past week went through the process I described above.

We guessed that painting the bedroom would take about 4 hours.  Ha!  The bedroom has 6 windows, three doors, AND most significantly a tray ceiling.  The painting took almost seven hours and I am not counting the day before when we moved furniture, covered what we could not move, rallied the various painting tools that we had left from our prior life of painting various rooms in homes, removed electrical and phone plates, and taped every single piece of wood framing with that blue stuff.  That prep wore us out and we retreated to the living room for dinner and movie.

The next morning fresh and energetic we began what is referred to in painting circles as 'cutting in.'  It was a cloudy day making it very hard to tell what we painted and what we didn't since the old hue and the new hue were pretty close in color.  I am also old, and do not see as well as I used to.  But the most significant issue with this project is that this new paint would dry to touch within a minute making it so much harder so see where I painted and where I had left off in the gray shadows from the window.  The only clue was that I had purchased a slightly shinier finish of paint this time and if one stood at an angle to the wall, one could see the difference.  Thus we painted, and then re-painted, and ate dinner and then went back in and touched up a few more places as the lamp light revealed a few more areas of incomplete coverage.

Finally we felt we had finished, cleared the room, washed the brushes, put everything away and fell exhausted and with stiff joints into bed.  The next morning as I sat in bed greeting the new day (you KNOW what I am going to write here) I saw two more small areas at the base of the side wall that needed touch up!  Fast drying paint is not all it is cracked up to be.

So WHAT Is It, Really?

A photo of a nearby shoreline tweaked with filters and tone and lighting manipulation.

Yes, in answer to some questions, the photo in the prior post was my lovely granddaughter.  I captured her in the middle of a hide and seek game where she was hiding under a ladder in a playground and her innocent childhood personality was revealed like shining silver in such a photo.  I tweaked it somewhat...making it more of a "work of art" than a snapshot and putting more light on her face.

Friko, one of my favorite bloggers and a real artist in her own right with her writing, commented on Downton Abbey, which both she and I like to watch.  She felt it was not really art because it did not make you think.  I am so glad she stimulated some discussion with this comment because her comment "made me think!"  She felt that the TV series lulled the viewer into a false sense of security.  I disagree because the change that war brings and the events that happen in this next season take away the security of constancy for all of the characters.  I also think that writing about this time in England with rose colored glasses instead of raw reality glasses is more enjoyable for viewers and those poor souls who think this is an accurate representation of the time may also think Picasso's horses reflect a reality.

I then went on a hunt to find definitions for art, because there are almost as many definitions and quotes as there are works of art and this will fill up the rest of this post nicely!  And if you are good and read to the end...that is where I put the funny one.

Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable.  ~George Bernard Shaw

Art is not, as the metaphysicians say, the manifestation of some mysterious idea of beauty or God; it is not, as the aesthetical physiologists say, a game in which man lets off his excess of stored-up energy; it is not the expression of man's emotions by external signs; it is not the production of pleasing objects; and, above all, it is not pleasure; but it is a means of union among men, joining them together in the same feelings, and indispensable for the life and progress toward well-being of individuals and of humanity.  Leo Tolstoy.

 Art is the product or process of deliberately arranging items (often with symbolic significance) in a way that influences and affects one or more of the senses, emotions, and intellect. It encompasses a diverse range of human activities, creations, and modes of expression, including music, literature, film, photography, sculpture, and paintings. The meaning of art is explored in a branch of philosophy known as aesthetics, whereas disciplines such as anthropology, sociology and psychology analyze its relationship with humans and generations.  Wikipedia

Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.  ~Pablo Picasso 

Science is out of the reach of morals, for her eyes are fixed upon eternal truths.  Art is out of the reach of morals, for her eyes are fixed upon things beautiful and immortal and ever-changing.  To morals belong the lower and less intellectual spheres.  ~Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist, 1891

The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.  ~William Faulkner  (I particularly like this definition.)

We all know that Art is not truth.  Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand.  The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies.  ~Pablo Picasso

And, of course, from my favorite cynic...I so glad she does not live next door as I would almost immediately quit blogging and taking photos:   

Very few people possess true artistic ability.  It is therefore both unseemly and unproductive to irritate the situation by making an effort.  If you have a burning, restless urge to write or paint, simply eat something sweet and the feeling will pass.  ~Fran Lebowitz