i can't help it if i'm lucky

Who are you in for?

2008-09-06T11:12:00.002-04:00

To: rdw12n35@aol.com
Sent: Thu, 4 Sep 2008 9:33 am
Subject: campaign

hi trish
now who do i vote for?
Regards,
auntie

Hi there,
Glad you asked! I've been thinking about writing to everyone again, now that so much has happened. . . .

First let me say that when I sit around my house, knitting, cheering for the Red Sox (closing in on the Rays for 1st place in the AL East), and telling anyone who asks to vote Democrat (no matter who's running!), I think of my grandma, your mom, and I wish I could hear what she'd say about all this. But we know what she'd say, don't we? She would respect John McCain for his military service, and know where Sarah Palin was coming from as far as having lots of kids, but I think Grandma would have loved to vote for Hillary.

The time we've spent reading, thinking and talking about and supporting Hillary, and her subsequent close-second finish to Barack Obama, was time well-spent. The dizzying roller-coaster ride of following your candidate from long-shot to shoe-in to 'slipping in the polls' to the concession speech came to a bittersweet end when she spoke at the DNC last week. She spoke about all the reasons she ran for President, and all the problems she wanted to solve, and all the people she'd met along the way who personified these concepts. I could see the images of her inauguration, her State of the Union addresses, her press conferences, her thoughtful and far-reaching legislation enacted, the world once again looking to America for their example of the best way to run a country, all slowly dissolving in my mind.

Then she said something that cut right to the heart of the matter: "I want you to ask yourselves: Were you in this campaign just for me? Or were you in it for that young Marine and others like him? Were you in it for that mom struggling with cancer while raising her kids? Were you in it for that boy and his mom surviving on the minimum wage? Were you in it for all the people in this country who feel invisible?"

As I said, I always vote for the Democrat, no matter what. From dog-catcher to President, they don't have to win me over, that's just the way I roll, as the kids say. (Or maybe they don't really say that. You know what I mean.) So when Hillary conceded in June, I knew that in November I would be voting for Barack Obama; it felt a little awkward, like resigning from one fan club and joining another.

But what she said reminded me that I vote for the Democrat because of the ideals that the party stands for, and it's not about a cult of personality or who I'd want to have a beer with, it's about who is best able to lead our country out of the economic, military and philosophical morass that we are in now.

And it ain't McCain/Palin.

Despite his "maverick" ways and his independent streak, McCain has been entrenched in Republican Washington circles for far too long to make any real difference in the future, from the last eight years. And, at 72 years old with a history of skin cancer, his seemingly spontaneous choice of an inexperienced running mate with extreme right-wing political views, archaic positions on women's rights and issues and mediocre intellect is ill-advised at best. If she were a man, she never would have been considered: he chose her for her gender, to see if the female electorate would blindly pull the lever for the candidates with the most (or any) uteruses, and for her Christianity, to pander to the far-right Christian coalition. Read Judith Warner's latest column at nytimes.com to know exactly what I think about Sarah Palin. To the word.

As Democrats, as caring, thinking, forward-looking people who are invested in the future of our country and the world, we need to unite and support our candidate. Hillary rebuked the idea that bitterness among her delegates and supporters would lead them to vote for McCain, because she knows that it's about more than man or woman or black or white, it's about our country - freedom and equality, health and progress, security and the future.

Now I'm going to sign off before I'm accused of being a zealot. I'm really not, I'm just opinionated. Like my Grandma.

Love,
Tricia

Status Report

2008-05-15T19:40:00.002-04:00

Older
Wiser
My baby turned 17 this week. Where have the years gone?
Endured the Red Sox' 1-5 road trip to Minnesota & Baltimore. Where has our pitching gone?

He was a friend of mine

2007-09-05T06:56:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow's Adventure: Shanghai to Beijing to Newark to West Hartford

2007-06-19T18:58:00.000-04:00

受歡迎的家
(WELCOME HOME)
世界旅行者
(WORLD TRAVELERS)

Wednesday, June 13 / Today’s Adventure: Overnight Train to Guilin

2007-06-14T06:49:00.000-04:00

Flying in Space

2007-06-09T00:58:00.001-04:00

Today, the day that my daughter first got on a big plane and flew to China, was also

1) the day that the real NASA space shuttle Atlantis took off again, the first in 2007, with seven astronauts, from Cape Canaveral, Florida, headed for the International Space Station, and,

2) on "Numb3rs", a repeat of the episode when Dr. Larry Fleinhardt took off in the space shuttle, too!

Also, JD Drew broke out of a persistent slump, hitting 2 3-run homers against the Arizona Diamondbacks . . . nothing to do with flying, really, except the ball flying through the air . . . but notable!

And finally, an amusing quote from Numb3rs:

Dr. Larry Fleinhardt: You know, here's a discussion: Why is it that we remember the past and not the future?

Charlie Eppes: That's a tough one, Larry.

Can't you just see the two of them standing there, saying that?

Hope you're enjoying your trip! I'm looking forward to hearing from you.

Regrets only

2007-04-02T19:25:00.000-04:00

I read this NYTimes.com article, Ex-Aide Says He’s Lost Faith in Bush, about Matthew Dowd, a Democratic strategist who jumped ship in 2004 to help re-elect Bush and defeat Kerry, in nytimes.com with increasing anger and disgust. It's a shame that the entire country has to suffer for one man's misplaced idealism. What happened to the days when you chose a political party because of its platform, what it stands for, and stuck by your party's candidate? Did anyone ever do that, or is that just my idealism? Dowd apparently sees the error of his ways now, but at what price to the country and its future?

ACPT 3-PEAT!

2007-03-26T21:17:00.000-04:00

How cool is it that Glastonbury native Tyler Hinman won the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament FOR THE THIRD TIME IN A ROW?? This guy is amazing, as are all of the people who entered. I have the greatest respect for these fascinating people.

I'm in training now for Brooklyn next year. I wish they would consider having it in Hartford next year. Let's start a rumor or a petition or something.

I love you, Ira Glass

2007-03-21T12:28:00.001-04:00

A Radio Host Tries His Voice on Television

Flying snowman!

2007-02-27T07:02:00.000-05:00

What I Do Every Day: Today

2007-02-25T15:27:00.000-05:00

I had set my alarm clock for 9 AM, but woke up a few minutes before that. John had already risen and went downstairs.
I brushed my teeth, put on jeans and a shirt and a sweater. And socks and slippers. (Yesterday’s financial aid letter reminded me that the thermostat stays on 67, no higher.)
Drank coffee, ate a small tortilla with egg and bacon. (This breakfast did not materialize out of thin air, and I did not make it. John, as predictable and timely as sunrise, made this breakfast.)
Sat on the couch, flipped between “How It’s Made” on the Discovery channel, the Weather channel, and the Chris Matthews show on NBC, and read the Courant on line. (McEnroe’s and Curry’s columns, and various news articles) (Why didn’t I read the actual newspaper, lying on the floor next to John’s chair? I’m still playing with my new toy – not my laptop, that’s from work – no, it’s the wireless router I bought last week at Best Buy, the same model as Melanie has. It’s awesome, although watching TV and going on line at the same time takes some getting used to.)
Woke Stella up. Not as simple as it sounds. Folded and hung up a bunch of her clothes while talking to her, to wake her up.

“How It’s Made” just showed how wine glasses are made, and I was riveted. In the last few years I have decided that I would like to learn how to blow glass, so this 5-minute overview of the process was interesting to me. It looks like a somewhat physically taxing activity, which I’m ready for, like you have to be able to coordinate twirling the long metal stick with the glob of glass on the end, while blowing into the end of it, and holding your hand steady with a shaping tool of some kind against the molten glass: part muscle control and part creativity. After the glass was made, including the stem and base, and it was fired in a kiln overnight, it went to a craftsman who etched designs into the side of the cup, and the base. The design was called “Titanic” because it was based on a design in the lights on the famous, doomed ship.

Once again, for the record, and for no apparent reason, my crackpot rant of the day: I AM AGAINST (MORALLY REPULSED BY) PEOPLE GAINING FINANCIALLY FROM THE TRAGEDY OF THE SINKING OF THE SHIP TITANIC. I understand wanting to name the design of the wineglass “Titanic” because it was in fact based on the lights on the ship, but I would advise the wineglass company that naming a glass after a TRAGEDY IN WHICH ONE THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN PEOPLE DIED is not a good marketing strategy.

I aim this mainly at James Cameron and the cast and crew of the 1997 movie, not the glassblowers. Don't get me going.

More things to think about:

2007-02-13T05:22:00.000-05:00

Once again, Colin has deftly uncovered another little nugget of truth.
To do: read more about Dionysian and Apollonian.

Regarding Henry

2007-02-07T17:30:00.000-05:00

There are many favorite stories in the naked city . . . . that is our past, our history.

I ate a lean pork chop with potatoes and a large salad for dinner on Monday night. I have been very good on my diet in the last week or so, and I'm sure it will pay off come Thursday. Then I watched "24", which has been criticized quite a bit this season, for various shifts and tangents that it is taking, but to my mind, who am I to criticize? If I was a writer on the show, and had suggested a different story line, and they went with something else, then I could criticize, but as a passive audience, it is my "job" to watch the show and follow the story, and be either entertained or not by it. I am entertained - Jack Bauer's brother (a very evil weasel) and father (equally evil, not quite so weaselly - he's a very tall man who I think played a senator or something in West Wing for a few shows - maybe a Repub?) are in the last few episodes, and last night the dad killed Jack's brother, even though they're both on the same (evil) side. . . . wickedness!

I dozed off, unable to remember what I usually watch on TV at 10 PM on Mondays, then woke up & helped S finish off her history project - a scrapbook recalling the Industrial Revolution, and (take your pick of ) 2 revolutions from Europe and 2 from Latin America. S chose France, Poland (a feeble attempt to learn something about her heritage, she said), Venezuela, and Haiti. I thought it was quite a mishmash of an assignment, but she did all of the research (mostly yesterday) and I just swooped in at the last minute to help (speed up) formatting the Word document, and making a fabric cover for it (unbleached muslin, soaked in coffee, glued to a manila folder). Near the end of the process, S asked me to sign Henry Ford's name on the reproduction of a posted notice at the Ford Motor Company plant back then, regarding children working and safety, etc. I googled Ford's signature, and there it was, and I suggested that we put it in the document and print it out, but she said no, just sign it! So there I was, at 1:30 a.m., forging Henry Ford's signature to a "safety first" document from the turn of the (previous) century. It occurred to me that I have never done that before, I will probably never do that again, and there are many people who will live their entire lives without forging Henry Ford's signature. . . . I love my life!

Start again

2007-02-04T11:20:00.000-05:00

It finally really snowed. Not that much, though. I took this picture from my bedroom window. I had to actually open the window and take it, because the glass distorted the picture. I took about 45 pictures from my bedroom and the bathroom window, then spent about an hour playing with the color and brightness, etc. I can't decide if they look better in more saturated color, or in black and white.

"My thoughts" vs. my actions

2006-10-01T13:43:00.000-04:00

Whenever I find something out there in the world that coincides with my own thoughts, a kind of excited vindication, or vindicated excitement, takes over me, and I feel strengthened and happy - I'm not crazy or wandering lost in the woods. I can think! I obviously am!

Last weekend, G-ma, S and I took a field trip up to JP to visit M, and we visited her school, a lovingly renovated old Catholic school, complete with large crosses outside and immaculated polished linoleum hallways, wide stairs, and brightly-painted classrooms. On the wall, on the first floor, among other quotes from famous people, were the words:

" 'Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will control your life and you will call it fate.' -- Carl Jung"

I was amazed at these words, how succinctly they captured what I have been trying to do for almost ten years. I had never conceived of this idea so neatly captured and explained. I stood in front of it and memorized it. Later in the week, while I walked around the bike path pondering a birthday present for my sister, it came to me: I will print it in a beautiful font, on handmade paper, in an elaborate frame. I will mail it to her with a box of Weight Watchers chocolate cakes, only 2 points each, and I will name the gift "The secret of my success"! She'll love it, and call me crazy. We will be the same age for two weeks, then my year ends, and I will be an even number again.

Excerpt from a letter to a friend:
> I have been so busy at work that I am very tired
> when I get home. I do not love my job - basically I
> run reports and send them out via email - but it
> pays the bills, so I continue with it. I try to
> spend my free time doing things I like to do, not
> wasting time, so that on balance, I am getting to
> live like I want to at least some of the time. One
> of the women that I worked with left to work at
> another company, so while my boss looked for someone
> to replace her, the other woman I work with and I
> split up the extra work. Then, my boss left - two
> weeks ago - to work at another company, so now we
> are reporting to a different boss in Irvine, CA. I
> am realizing that my old boss buffered me a lot from
> phone calls and requests for things that I am now
> receiving directly, and it's pretty stressful. As I
> said, I don't love this job, so giving my heart and
> soul to it is just not going to happen. I figure I
> can quit in 10 years - my younger daughter will be
> out of college in 6 years, and I'll need another 4
> to pay off my part of the loans. Then - who knows?
> But I'm sure I will have a new career of some kind.

> Last night, my daughter and I, my sister and her
> daughter, went to see two comedians at my daughter's
> high school - a fundraiser for their prom next year,
> and for a charitable project that the school
> sponsors: building schools and a hospital in a town
> in Paraguay called Tobati. The comedians were very
> funny, and we had a great time. I had won 2 tickets
> from a radio station about a month ago to see the
> Boston Red Sox last night, but because of the show,
> and because my husband was hosting his first poker
> night with his friends from work, we couldn't go. I
> tried to give them to my older daughter, who is
> living in Boston now, but coincidentally she already
> had tickets, and was going with 3 friends of hers!
> My parents, who haven't been to Fenway Park in ages,
> were visting my other sister in Minnesota, so I gave
> the tickets to my old boss, as a going-away gift. I
> did see that the Red Sox won, and my husband won the
> main pot at the poker game, so we all had a good
> time last night!

There were many 'firsts' or significant events that day (Friday, September 29, 2006):

- As I said in the letter, I had won tickets to the Red Sox game from WTIC, and I really wanted to go, but felt obligated to attend the fundraiser/comedy night at S's school, and also obligated to help my husband prepare the food - an authentic Mexican repast - for his poker night, first time hosted at our house. My ex-boss was thrilled to get the tickets - I remarked that the team was going nowhere this year, and who knows who would pitch, but as he said, "I don't care - it's Fenway."

- The fundraiser/comedy night, featuring Jim Colliton, was a very pleasant night out with the girls - another first (for me) - dinner at Cosi, in WH Center. When was the last time you laughed for two hours?

- Ego strokes - I made Alton Brown's Overnight Cinnamon Rolls again, this time for S's advisee group (aka homeroom). This phrase is overused in the world, but these rolls are TO DIE FOR! and well worth the effort. I made S tell me twice how good the kids thought the rolls were, and how messy, and how she brought napkins, too. [I sincerely believe my daughters thrive because AND in spite of me!] Technically, this was not a first, but it was noteworthy, and I did make the dough and shape the rolls the night before, but they were baked on Friday. Remember, this is a list of things that happened on Friday.

- I actually took a day off from work. It was like heaven, even though I spent it making flan de queso for J's party, dusting & vacuuming the LR, and cleaning the bathroom. I also came up with a new decorating project - I'm going to tile the top of the black triange table in the LR, to make it more southwestern, to fit in with the rest of the room.

OK, it's a pretty short list, but compared to my usual Friday (go to work, go to jukido, watch "Numbers", go to bed), it was pretty exciting.

My love to the world,

T

Why I was late today, Vol. 21, No. 85:

2006-07-27T09:05:00.000-04:00

Once again, I was a little sleepy this morning because I stayed up late watching “The Daily Show” and most of “The Colbert Report,” so I didn’t have breakfast and log in my points until almost 7. I have had it in my mind to mail El Paso Mia’s quilt to her for a few weeks now, and the pointlessness of not doing it has grown to such a crescendo that today, yes, today, is the day. It is ready. I am ready. I folded it one last time, searched for tissue paper to wrap it in, found some purple ribbon to tie around it. I used one of my lovely Frank Lloyd Wright notecards, and thought about the message. It is adequate, not spectacular. I will go to the post office in back of the Civic Center at lunchtime and off it will go. I am happy.

I also emptied the garbage in S’s room, and then the kitchen garbage. I hate when it gets so full that you can barely tie the top together. I then noticed that J had given Rudy the old dog food instead of the new, so I dumped out the food and gave him the new food. With Rudy’s virtual rebirth after eating this new food, I cannot fathom why one would not be very careful in always feeding him the correct food. I also threw away the bag of old food, so that “mistake” will not be made again.

On the plus side, I did not iron my shirt, sweater, or pants, even though they were slightly wrinkled.

A kiss to S, and a kiss to M, and then I was off.

Check out AOL.com today. Breaking news, video search, pictures, email and IM. All on demand. Always Free.

test

2006-07-27T07:07:00.000-04:00

testy

Where do I begin?

2006-07-25T08:07:00.000-04:00

It's almost overwhelming, thinking about how to write about the last two months. A lifetime in the blink of an eye. I have thought many times about writing all kinds of stuff down, but I just haven't had time, and now I can't get here from certain computers in my life, so my exposure is definitely limited.

Not that I have time right now.

I resolve to find time to write stuff down and post it here. We'll see how I do.

FYI

2006-05-23T14:31:00.000-04:00

Something interesting to do this Friday night:

COMMUNITY WORKS OF CONNECTICUT
3rd Annual
SPRING SPREE
Friday, May 26 6:30-9:30 PM
$40. donation

the Pond House at Elizabeth Park
1555 Asylum Avenue, West Hartford, CT

featuring special musical guests
Sister Funk &
the Sam Wise Gamgee Experience

Silent auction
Beer, wine, hors d'oeuvres

[worth going just to check out the band, n'est-ce pas?]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DeStefano or Malloy: DESTEFANO. It's just my gut feeling - which is not really the way to pick your candidate - but I think DeStefano is the real deal, and only a "real deal" kind of candidate has a chance against Rell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know what I would do if I hadn't watched '24' from the beginning of the season, but I'm glad I did. What a show! The only show on TV, besides Red Sox baseball, that actually makes me scream and stomp my feet. Check out this nutty little blog for commentary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Melanie - where the heck are you? Call me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WTG Stella - "Freshman Prodigy"! You rule!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Statuses (statii?):
Front yard - 85% (call it 100% if the new grass ever grows)
Back yard - 95%
Dining room - 100%
Downstairs bathroom - W.I.P.
Rudy - "not dead yet!"
Everything else is probably going to have to wait until after the Big Party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four and a half percent. WOO HOO!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

20.4 lbs! Jeans two sizes smaller!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guess who's 65 tomorrow?

Don't look so sad, Bob. It's better than the alternative.

Did I ever tell you about the time, on Bob's birthday, I brought my guitar to work with me, and lugged it out to the plaza at lunchtime (a rather deserted corner), and played his songs? I did not work at a cool place where this sort of thing was embraced; no, it was a little clearing surrounded by office buildings and a TV station. Though 49% of me was embarrassed, the other 51% felt so strongly that The People Needed To Know, that I actually did that. For anyone who has ever peeked at the end of a book, you know what happened - nothing. No one looked. No one commented. Let's think about this: the way to make your self invisible is turn your self inside out.

A Morality Play

2006-05-02T13:03:00.000-04:00

Colin McEnroe has nailed it once again in his blog and most particularly with this statement:

"Ragaglia's story provides further proof that Rell's moral leadership is almost entirely symbolic."

And that is the point.
Do you think anyone is listening??

MAYBE back when the Great Unwashed of CT elected John Rowland (and Jodi Rell) once, twice, then three times, they didn't realize they were opening the hen house for the fox ... but now?

The only reason (besides the legal details) Rell was not swept out of office along with Rowland was her assertion, and the G.U. of CT's desire to believe, that she knew nothing of the crimes being committed. Her excellent portrayal of the pure, dedicated, warm and fuzzy (but apparently oblivious) Lt. Gov. understudy has earned her the starring role as the pure, dedicated, morally upright and virtuous Gov., but maybe the spotlight shines too brightly on her in this part:

"Ragaglia's story provides further proof that Rell's moral leadership is almost entirely symbolic."

In the minds of the G.U. of CT, two things qualify Rell for the leading role: her years of experience at the Capitol (at the elbow of the -most corrupt?- Gov. in CT history) and her perceived integrity and righteousness.

"Ragaglia's story provides further proof that Rell's moral leadership is almost entirely symbolic."

Perhaps this time, the G.U. of CT will elect, not the candidate who SEEMS brisk and efficient, like he could get things done, nor the candidate who oozes virtue and kindness and with whom you'd want to share a glass of milk, but someone who has ACTUALLY ACCOMPLISHED SOMETHING: run a municipality, for years, successfully, amidst the muck of politics.

One more time:

"Ragaglia's story provides further proof that Rell's moral leadership is almost entirely symbolic."

Wake up, CT!

Coffee with patience

2006-04-12T11:38:00.000-04:00

I went to get a coffee at Au Bon Pain this morning, and there were lots of people milling around. A young woman was standing in front of the Cafe Roast, which is what I wanted, filling up three huge cups and adding sugar and cream, which took a few minutes. I started to think, 'hey, get out of the way,' but when she noticed me and apologized for taking so long, my nice gene took over.
"That's OK," I said. "Did you win the lottery and have to get coffee for everyone?"
"Yeah, I'm the lucky one," she replied.
"Well, as long as everyone takes turns ...." I offered.
She laughed and said, "The problem is, it's always me, we don't take turns."
"Well, there's a reward for you somewhere down the line, then." I replied, and we smiled.
She was a few people in back of me in the cashier line, and when I turned to leave, she said, "Have a good one," even though she could have just ignored me, and I said, "You too."
Sometimes it feels like extending compassion to others costs us a lot, and we aren't willing to part with it, but a lot of times it becomes a bargain when you realize that you did the kind, graceful thing rather than the gut-reaction, selfish thing.

discovery

2006-04-05T12:29:00.000-04:00

I love Death Cab for Cutie's new CD Plans, especially "Soul Meets Body." It's a beautiful song, the most perfect song I've heard in a long time. I compare the structure of it to how I design a quilt - the color is the melody, and the geometric shapes represent the rhythm.

Pete Duquette, Hudson, NH

2006-02-22T21:02:00.000-05:00

Hey Pete - I saw your t-shirts on line, in the local newspaper. Cool! It's great to see that you grew up to be an artist. You had the soul of one way back when. Do you sell them online? Do you have a website?

Wo sie sind, Art Horn?

2006-02-11T09:40:00.000-05:00

Not Horn -- Art Horn.

Wait a minute - I haven't seen Art Horn on the Channel 30 weather lately . . . you don't think he's been replaced by that little dark-haired guy with the curl in the middle of his forehead, do you?? That's a shame. I liked Art Horn just because he wasn't handsome, he was kind of goofy and awkward, and that's how a weather man should be. It was a mini-adventure watching him: he didn't stick to the script, and would often say something "normal", which is weird for a weather guy. And he seemed like a regular guy, instead of a generic vanilla meteorology robot.

I will spare you the blah-blah-blah on the world becoming too homogenized. We need people to be different, to have variety, in order to remain interesting! There. I'm done.

Art Horn will present The Wonders of Weather, a slide show and talk at Mary Cheney Library, 586 Main St., Manchester on Thursday, Feb. 23. The free program will begin at 7 P.M., is open to the public and registration is not required. Light refreshments will be served. For further information, please call Adult Services/Reference at 860-645-0821.

Time out for a different perspective

2006-02-02T23:26:00.000-05:00

Taking Neddie's suggestion to download & listen to a "Dylan's roots" thing - www.highwatereverywhere.com. Jason Chervokas put together some of Dylan's outstanding songs with old blues and folk songs that were obviously inspirational to the man. I can't wait to hear the rest of Jason's work.

Here are some thoughts during the 68 minute long podcast:

It's the stories that are so fascinating. his intepretations of them, his acting-out.

I LOVE the Basement Tapes. I bought the cassettes in the mid-90s and kept them in my pocketbook for about six months, until I couldn't listen to them any more. I'd listen to them in the car and wonder how I got to work. I'd listen to them at home and realize that hours had gone by. The music, the voices, were like a drug to me - all-immersing, mind-controlling - and I was helpless to resist. Besides, they're legal! But I had small children to care for.

I've never heard a live version of "Cold Irons Bound." It's so much bigger and scarier.

This music makes me feel so un-self-conscious. I feel like everyone, like I'm not alone, like I belong.

Jimmie Rodgers: a friend of mine made me a tape of Jimmie Rodgers' songs, mingled with contemporary artists interpreting. Love Dwight Yoakum singing "T for Texas," Allison somebody singing so sweet. Wonder what happened to that tape? Gotta go dig that up. I love to yodel.

Brownsville Girl, right? No, this is the other version - Danville Girl. Ah, Bobby's disco/hollywood period. Gotta love it. He's so incredible. Just when you think you might have had a glimpse of a little of what he's about, someone juxtaposes some songs a certain way and you get blown away all over again, just like the first time you heard him ("Street Legal," 1978, stolen from my older sister's collection. Not impressed. "New Pony" is OK, the rest is ... eh. Eleven years later, in the living room of the man who would become my first husband, I was transfixed by the very same album, and I've been hooked ever since . . . . a whole other story.)

oh! mama! can this really be the end?

And here I sit so patiently, waiting to find out what price you have to pay to get out of going through all these things twice.

It's not dark yet, but it's getting there. And it's getting late. Wow. What kind of dreams will I have tonight?

Music for our time

2006-02-01T15:45:00.000-05:00

Neddie Jingo waxes poetic (oh, what a woefully inadequate description of what he does!) about evocative music from his childhood, the “Theme from Midnight Cowboy” most specifically, and his appreciation and awe at the wonder and power of it remind me of my feelings about what I was listening to yesterday (or the day before? Or every day? It’s stored in the ipod of my mind): the album “World Gone Wrong” by Mr. Dylan (released Oct 26, 1993)

A few years ago, before I’d heard of blogs, I had grown to have such powerful and intricate thoughts about so many Dylan albums that I thought I needed to expound on those thoughts, someday, somewhere, to elucidate those who did not know, and to share with those who did. Right here, right now (well, as much as I can get in during my lunch break, and more in the days to come), I will try to explain why I Love The Man and His Music (again, woefully inadequate to describe what I feel).

The collective impression of this album is the raw, pure emotion of life and love, through a filter of age and history. These covers of old songs, not one penned by Bob, are each a chapter in a sad, bitter, hopeful, solemn story of life in some distant past. In listening, no, inhabiting these songs, you are transported back to these places, these people: the grimy, ragged characters wending through their lives of pain and heartache, with glimpses of joy or the possibility of it.

(For more eloquent descriptions of this particular album, see the true believers’ comments on amazon.com.)

By song:
World Gone Wrong I love the guitar on this song. More inspiration to learn how to play better. The voice begins with the pain of rejection, through pleading, and by the end to a proud, angry resignation – “No use to ask me, baby, ’cause I’ll never be back.” The words themselves are a template, classic lines of love gone wrong, but Bob’s interpretation brings you inside the jilted man’s heart.

Love Henry It’s a glimpse of a story, a brief camera pan through a humble cottage filled with desire and jealousy and murder. Strangely, it’s the impact on the off-camera “pretty little girl in Cornersville” that stays with me most.

Ragged & Dirty Here’s the wily tramp who wants whatever he can get from you, and his plea is so honest and plain that you just may give in. You know he’ll take whatever he wants and leave, and all you’ll have is the memory of his wilderness, that you could tame for only a moment. All in all, a fair trade.

Blood in My Eyes This man’s a step above “Ragged & Dirty:” he’s made some money and wants to spend it on a woman, but he’s not waiting around through dinner and drinks. I don’t know what the phrase “I got blood in my eyes for you, baby” means, but when he sings it, I know what he’s talking about.

. . . OK, I guess lunch is over. More later.

Another survey, in the form of a meal?

2006-01-13T17:36:00.000-05:00

From Jen's blog, a quiz about "what kind of blogger are you?" led me to this site . . . those quizzes are really off-base. Anyway:

Appetizer: Have you ever seen a ghost or an angel?

If they're out there, I've experienced them. Let me explain: in my old 2nd floor apartment in the duplex on Trouble Street, I was up really late one night - around 2 AM - reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. It was VERY quiet - the girls were asleep, the guy downstairs was not home, and I was getting kind of sleepy. One of the drawers in the kitchen was warped in some way, and would not stay half-way open - and would not roll shut if it was all the way open - you had to push it shut. Anyway, this night it was all the way open - I don't remember why, I was probably eating ice cream or something. What the heck else was I doing up at 2 AM? Anyway, silence, just me and the sound of me turning the page of the newspaper. Suddenly, the open drawer IN BACK OF ME closed. My eyes widened, and I slowly turned my head around to see what was going on: nothing. The drawer in fact was shut, and I had not done it. I looked around the room, seeing that everything looked normal. I did get a strong sense of, I should leave this room and go to bed. Which I did.
That qualifies, right? Did I mention that the kitchen window looked out on the backyard, which butted up against a cemetery?

Soup: What is your favorite board game?

Hmmm... I used to play lots of board games with my kids - the usual: Candyland, Chutes and Ladders. There was some crazy rather pointless game called "The Littlest Pet Shop" which S LOVED because there were little plastic dogs and cats, which she played with even without the game. M's favorite when she was little was "Mall Madness," which was quite elaborate, with a box in the middle that spoke various phrases, sometimes with a strange impediment: "The CHICHEN store!" "Whoa - Long line! Try again later!" "YOUR item costs FIVE DOLLARS MORE!" It was a painn to set up, but it was fun.
M got "Apples to Apples" for Christmas, and the whole family played for about four hours one night. It was rather hilarious at times - I highly recommend it.

Salad: What was the last movie you saw that made you cry?

I don't remember. Really. Maybe it was "Spiderman" - at the end, when Peter tells MJ that he only likes her as a friend. Maybe it was "It's a Wonderful Life", except I didn't see that this year; I do get tears in my eyes at the end of it. I will have to think about this and edit later.

Main Course: What would you do if you had 3 months off from your job?

Sew. Knit. Go to Texas and wander around: El Paso, Midland, Lubbock, Marfa, Austin, San Antonio, Sonora, Dallas, Houston, Beaumont, Corpus Christi, Amarillo, Killeen. And everywhere in between. Take pictures and paint pictures of the mountains.

Dessert: What kind of shoes are you wearing today? Slippers. I had today off.

wait till the middle of the night...

2006-01-13T01:08:00.000-05:00

for some inspiration . . .

I'm swiping this from LA RUSH, a med school student that I don't know but whose blog I keep running into:

go to www.google.com
type in "failure" in the search box (without the quotation marks)
then hit "I'm feeling lucky" instead of search....see what happens!

heh heh heh

I have absolutely nothing to say.

Judging from the number of "quizzes" and "memes" I see in a lot of blogs lately, neither does anyone else.

OK, then, the "2 things" meme:

2 obsessions bordering on unhealthy:
-- music from "Jeeves & Wooster": "bring me lobster on a clean plate!"
-- Sudoku

2 things I should've done but didn't in 2005:
-- finished Bill & Mari's quilt. Now they're having a baby and I'll have to make them two quilts!!
-- stuck to my diet

2 things I'm surprised I did in 2005:
-- got a new job making more money with a window office
-- "the car accident"

2 things I will do in 2006:
-- be more honest. always.
-- be more active.

2 TV shows I must see:
-- Numb3rs, CBS, Friday @ 10 PM ET
-- 24, FOX, Sunday. Don't know when, but I will find out.

2 foods I've made that I bet you haven't:
-- tamales
-- Chocolate Italian Cream Cake

2 worst habits:
-- staying up too late
-- procrastinating

2 secrets about Rudy:
-- he talks in his sleep
-- someday he's going to grow to be 6 feet tall, and he will exact his revenge from those who have mocked and scorned and insulted him (mostly "stupid" and "smelly") by striking his enemies with his great yellow paws. But not me, because I'm nice to him and I give him treats.

OK, as M would say, when the crazy lady starts going on and on about her smelly little dog, it's time to hang up.

Bon soir, mes amis.

One thing you can't hide . . .

2005-12-06T15:25:00.000-05:00

After reading Colin’s invitation to consider the impact that others have on our everyday lives in “Maybe everybody else already does this,” my thoughts went more easily instead to the small impact that I have on other people’s daily lives … did I cut someone off in traffic, or did I leave a space and wave someone in? Did I treat the woman at the Au Bon Pain counter in a perfunctory way, tossing money at her and saying “thank you” in a monotone, or did I meet her eye and smile and say “good morning”? Did I hold the elevator for the guy running to get on, or press the “close” button because I was in a hurry? (OK, I really don’t ever do that. That’s not nice. I have pressed the “close” button a few times by accident, because I can’t seem to quickly interpret those little symbols of line-arrow-line, or arrow-line-arrow, or whatever. I feel sincerely sorry when that happens.)

What about actual people that I know or see? In this office, I have kept to myself quite a bit until this year – I tended not to say “hi” to someone walking down the hall toward me, or at the water fountain, or waiting in the elevator lobby, but I do try from time to time to reach out.

Years ago, I reached out often. I think I was known as a very friendly, nice person by just about everyone who I came in contact with. I let my “real self” be known – I had opinions, or at least thoughts, that I would share with whomever I happened to be talking to. I felt that I was being the best person that I could be to others – there was no wall, no reticence, no wariness. My mother once told me that I was naïve, but I don’t think it had the intended affect on me – I thought it was kind of a sweet thing, to be naïve, to expect goodness from people and ignore the bad. I guess I still think it is, but I am much older and “wiser” now, and more realistic. I still give people the benefit of the doubt, and I still believe that even obviously flawed people – OK, that’s everyone, right? – have some positive, enriching part of themselves to uncover.

So then I read Peter Naboicheck’s response to Colin’s post, and wow – there’s someone else who loves John Lennon! I was born on John Lennon’s 22nd birthday, and I have always felt a bond with him. I’m sure a lot of people did and do, but I always felt like his life and values and decisions were an example to me because of our shared birthday. It was heartening to read such an honest, sincere reaction to him. Thanks, Peter.

I was in Wilmington, NC when John Lennon was shot. I was staying in a trailer on the Sound, with the family of a boyfriend. These people were down-home Southerners, and I must have seemed like quite an alien to them at the time, but they were very kind to me while I lived there, from August 1980 through December 1980. I can’t remember the mom’s name, but she worked in an office during the day and taught me how to cut up a chicken and fry it. The dad’s name was Horace and he worked in an office supply store – back before there were chains like Office Max, etc. – fixing typewriters. I had a job at the mall, in a clothing store, but wasn’t scheduled to work on Tuesday, December 9. My boyfriend and his dad sat up watching Monday night football, but I could only stand so much of it, so I went to bed. In the morning, everyone had left for work before I got up, so I got a bowl of cereal and sat down in the tiny living room to watch TV. (I had become quite a fan of a strange new daytime talk show hosted by a goofy young man named David Letterman. Dave and I are linked by that, too.) I turned on the TV, and switched to CNN, and there was a scroll on the bottom of the screen that said that John Lennon had been shot and killed the night before in New York City. I think I lost my breath and thought, that can’t be true! It was a nightmare moment when a small part of you is receiving some horrible news, and the rest of you is saying, no, that’s not true, it can’t be. The TV went to commercials then, so I stumbled outside, my mind reeling, to find the newspaper (why didn’t the family get the newspaper before they left for work? I don’t know, but it was outside in one of those plastic mailboxes). I don’t remember if it was on the front page – it probably was, wasn’t it? I don’t know. I was stunned. And bereft. I had loved the Beatles all through high school, ten years after they had broken up and everyone else had gone onto “southern rock” and Van Halen. I owned every one of their albums, and several solo albums of John’s and George’s. I had embroidered the symbol for “om” on the back pocket of my groovy faded patched jeans, and I had round sunglasses a la Lennon. I learned to pick out “Imagine” on any piano that I came across. He was a touchstone in my life, an icon, and I couldn’t believe he was … gone.

The following Sunday, Yoko held a memorial in Central Park, as I recall, and I swore that if I was in Connecticut I would have gone. As it was, I was stuck in the marshland of North Carolina, where I don’t know if anyone recognized John Lennon as anything other than a childhood memory of a moptop in a black suit. The afternoon was to include – was it two minutes, ten minutes? - of silence at 2:00, or something like that? In old southern style, the parents had a big dinner every Sunday at 2:00, and grace was intoned over the meal, then we’d eat. You were not late for these affairs. You came to the table – the tiny kitchen table in the little trailer - dressed in something decent with your hands clean. My tears flowed as I explained to my boyfriend that I could not, would not miss this tribute, however small and distant and anonymous, to my working class hero. He didn’t understand but he said he’d explain to his parents. I sat in my tiny bedroom and rocked, thinking of all the things….

Later that week, we made a pilgrimage to the record store at the mall where I worked and solemnly bought John’s new album. The record store took full advantage of the circumstances, having restocked all of John’s solo albums and replenished the Beatles’ bin as well. I listened to the album several times in those next few weeks, each time like a spiritual event, a mass, and then when I had memorized it, I stopped playing it. It was too sad to hear his gentle, insightful words over the horror of his murder.

A few – or several? – years ago, PBS had a Beatles special on over a few nights, and I watched it fervently. So much of it was familiar, and it was wonderful to relive learning it all again. I thought again, as the credits rolled, of the day I found out that John died, and how devastated I was. I went to sleep that night, and had a dream about him. In my dream, I was laying in bed, asleep, and I woke up to find John standing next to my bed. He was smiling, and saying, or somehow conveying to me, that it’s all right, he was OK, and not suffering or sad. He understood my sadness, and seemed to acknowledge the tragedy of his death, but assured me that he had gone on from it, in that mysterious way that the dead have. Sensing that he was leaving, I told him I loved him, tears in my eyes, and he smiled and said he loved me too. It felt so real, at the time I did not refer to it as a dream – it felt more like a visit. I woke up the next morning and I felt like something important had happened. I accepted his death.

I still think of him every October 9, and idly listen for a radio station to play one of his songs – usually “Imagine” – and announce to who? who doesn’t know when it’s John Lennon’s birthday? in a momentarily serious voice, what the day means. For John, and those of us like-minded, I carry on.

resist! resist!

2005-11-30T10:00:00.000-05:00

One of the biggest problems I have with listening to “Resident Bush” speak is – his speechwriters do not write in a manner that reflects how he speaks. He ALWAYS sounds like he’s reading a speech, and not very well at that.
Think back – when Bill Clinton spoke, he probably had a speechwriter putting words in his mouth, but you never heard a disconnect between his words and his delivery. You never wondered as he spoke, ‘is this news to him? would he say something like this if he had to speak without a script?’ He was a persuasive speaker, leading you with his words to understand and agree with him, compared with Bush, who just repeats his speech over and over again, as though if we hear it a million times, we will start to believe it.

Squash on the brain today …

2005-11-29T13:01:00.000-05:00

S sent me the email that her coach sent to her, saying that her practices would alternate weekly, 6:30-7:15 pm one week, then 3:30-4:15 pm the next. A new challenge in creative scheduling! Practice started yesterday, and not surprisingly, S really likes it: while she was working on her geometry homework, she sighed and looked at me and said, “I’d rather be playing squash.” Of course, there are probably lots of things she would rather be doing than geometry.

To be helpful, I googled “squash rules” (not “Squash Rules!”) and uncovered yet another whole new world. I downloaded a segment on squash for idiots (S is not easily insulted), a brief overview of the “new rules,” and a somewhat lengthy history of the sport itself. With her love of things British, I expect S will read it enthusiastically. Once her geometry is done.

Bob posted a comment on my “Useless Tidbits” entry (thanks, Bob! You’re #2!) and wished me a happy Thanksgiving, provoking my recurring feeling that I should have written, either before or after, about my Thanksgiving. Since I’m, well, not too busy right now, I will try to write something interesting about my Thanksgiving holiday. Let me know if you find anything:

A few weeks ago, I thought Thanksgiving was going to be a little different this year: last year, J, S and I rented a minivan and drove from CT to MN to visit my sister and her family, stayed for the weekend, then drove from MN to west TX, to visit J’s family for the actual meal. Then, back to CT via Roswell, Little Rock and Memphis. (It was pretty awesome. I sometimes can’t believe we did that, but I have pictures!) See here for some impressions of that trip.

This year, my ex-co-worker Sid (a whole post, no, a whole blog in himself!), who has gone to graduate school to become an money-grubbing, capitalist-pig, bad-Buddhist investment banker on Wall Street (his description, not mine) was supposed to be coming to dinner at my sister’s, mostly so that he could run in the Manchester Road Race (held on Thanksgiving, of course), which is right around the corner from where I live. Many people also walk the race, which I had intended to do as well, along with S – although she would run ahead of me and meet me much later at the finish line. However, Sid has made lots of new friends at his new school, being the AJ Soprano of Rochester, and so decided to give thanks with them, and skip the race. It’s just as well – it was about 30 degrees and snowing on Thursday, which he wouldn’t have liked, and so I didn’t go either. New this year – the police put up temporary no parking signs all along our street and the ones around us. In years past, since the race starts at 10 AM, around 9, as I would sit in the living room, drinking coffee and reading the paper, I would notice sprightly figures pulling up in front of my house, and all down the street, locking valuables in their trunks, securing their car keys somewhere about their person, and then running off in the direction of Main Street. The normally quiet sidewalks would populate with cheerful, energetic people, dressed for the weather in bright jackets, talking and laughing and blowing steam out of their mouths, an optimistic and happy parade of runners, joggers and walkers. It made me feel like brewing lots of coffee and maybe hot chocolate and setting up a stand in my front yard, or maybe just posting a big sign that said, “Happy Thanksgiving – Welcome to Manchester!” But this year – red and white signs that said “NO PARKING TEMPORARY POLICE ORDER.” We wondered if some people hadn’t got the message, if they would pull into the driveway and make the universal hand motions for “OK if I park here for a few hours?” but no one did.

I was pretty tired Thanksgiving morning because M was home from college, and we had been up until 2:30 AM cooking and baking. Dinner was at my sister’s, a wonderful and accomplished hostess, and a gourmet cook, too, like the rest of my family. In keeping with my gray sheep status (the more I see of the rest of the world, the more I realize I am a lot like my family), I am not a gourmet cook, but I do make the big effort when it comes to holidays. Since Li’l Sis would not be joining us from MN this year, the dinner crowd was somewhat smaller, but I was asked to make an appetizer, a vegetable and a dessert. I decided to embrace these tasks and give them my own special flair (!).

I spent a few hours online looking up recipes, and decided on “piggy pies” - spicy pork empanadas for appetizers, butternut polpettone (like a squash quiche/casserole, kind of) for the vegetable, and torta di ciocolatto (flourless chocolate cake) for dessert, all courtesy of foodtv.com.

After I got out of work on Wednesday (after getting The Call from my soon-to-be new boss, offering me The Job – yay), I baked the squash and started cooking the pork with many spices! and making the dough for the empanadas. The kitchen smelled very good. (I have started making Mexican things for holidays, to give my husband a taste of “home” and to prove that I can, and because it’s interesting to make different things every once in awhile.) I realized that I did not have any rum in the house – shame on me! – and so I mentioned that to J and he donned his coat and went out for the fifth time that week, to the store. What a guy. No wonder I make empanadas for him. M and S ran around, giggling and shrieking and getting in the way like children will (they’re 21 and 14), until I set them to work: M separated eggs while S greased and floured the pans; S chopped the almonds while M stirred the sugar and yolks. J wandered in, apparently thinking that we were having too much fun, so he was made to scrape the squash from the outer skin and stir the pork filling. All in a galley kitchen, my friends! We are a close family, literally and figuratively.

We must have eaten dinner that night, but I don’t remember. If we did, it was standing up in the kitchen, working on our dishes, or collapsed in the living room. Maybe we got Chinese. I just don’t know.

I enjoyed making the empanadas – you roll out the dough, cut 3 inch circles out of it (with a tea cup), paint a little egg on the outside edge, put a spoonful of spicy pork in the middle, fold it over, then crimp the edge with a fork. For some reason, I got 27 out the recipe, and by the time I got to the 27th one, I was quite good at it, if I say so myself. Since the back porch is unheated, it was like a refrigerator out there, and that’s where I left the empanadas for the night, right on top of the piano. (Yes. I have an orange piano on my back porch. I loved that piano. It’s a sore subject.)

I decided that that squash thing was going to be very easy – just dump everything into a bowl, mix and bake – and I would do that Thursday morning, so it was on to the torta di cioccolatto.

That was another chemistry experiment: cook egg yolks and sugar over steaming water, add cocoa and ground almonds and rum. Whip egg whites, fold them into the chocolate mixture. Bake. Yum.

In the meantime, M had discovered the second breadmaker J had been given by a co-worker of his, who was so grateful that he came and got the ficus tree that she no longer wanted, that she insisted he take the breadmaker that she no longer wanted either. Should we have called the suicide hotline? Who doesn’t want a ficus tree and a breadmaker? I had a boxed mix of bread-making stuff called “Cinnamon Sunrise,” so we decided, what the heck? We’re in the kitchen anyway, and wouldn’t it be nice to have cinnamon bread for breakfast on Thanksgiving? M plugged it in and set it all up and realized that it would be done around 2:30 AM … and that, friends, is why I was up until then.

A LOOOONNNG way to go to find out why I was tired on Thanksgiving. Thanks for coming along.

And we haven’t even gotten to the dinner yet!

And the squash! Thursday morning, while the street was unusually quiet for a Thanksgiving morning, I baked the squash thing – polpettone – I like to say it “pol-pi-to-nee” (rhymes with “baloney”), but I don’t know if I’m saying that correctly. I have no Italian blood in me at all, but I do enjoy some of their recipes. I made this same recipe a few years ago, again for Thanksgiving dinner, and “everyone” (Mom and Dad and Big Sis) loved it, so I made it again, but this time instead of store-bought bread crumbs from a cardboard cylinder, I MADE the bread crumbs after I had a flashback to my childhood when my mom would make meatloaf, and would make bread crumbs by putting slices of bread into the blender. I was amazed that the blender does an excellent job of turning regular bread slices into crumbs in seconds! I also used some bread crumbs on the side of the springform pan to keep the polpettone from sticking to the sides. Instead of store-bought parmesan cheese, again from a cardboard cylinder, I used freshly-grated parmesan in the recipe, and it made a big difference, so keep that in mind, you squash-hounds, when you make your polpettone.

The piggy pies needed baking, but first a coat of egg wash. I wish I had taken a picture – they were golden brown and lovely and smelled wonderful. J and I split one before we left – quality control, you know. Not as spicy as I thought they would be, but still muy bueno.

I was hoping that the roads wouldn’t be too slippery by the time we had to leave for my sister’s house, and the gods smiled on us and the 20-minute trip went fine. It was the first time the whole family rode in my new car. I was happy, and I didn’t make J listen Dylan or Clapton; in fact, I left the radio off. We saw an accident on the Bulkeley Bridge, and I remember remarking to my family, “That’s got to be the worst – getting in an accident on Thanksgiving. You probably end up missing dinner.”

We had a very nice time at my sister’s. Her husband, BIL, also loves Mexican food and was very happy to see the empanadas. Big Sis served a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, with one nice addition – we had a first course of some quite delicious squash soup. I know it must have had a poetic name as well, but it didn’t matter. The kids turned their noses up at it, while J loved it and ate BIL’s, too.

After dinner, my mom urged us all to get up and go for a walk – that’s my mom for ya – so we did, in the cold rain. The Girls and I cut it short and went back to dry off.

Later, friends came over and we had five different kinds of pie, plus my flourless chocolate cake, and coffee, and then we were through. The kids played Scattergories and BIL and his friend looked up tickets to Broadway shows for a December trip they are planning, and others watched some football, and the women-folk sat in the dining room with our pie and coffee and solved the world’s problems.

For the record, I am not a Black-Fridayist. I get the creeps after being in the mall for more than an hour on a regular day, and there is nothing that I want or want to buy that I am willing to go through that kind of agony for.

Instead, on Friday, we went to an artists’ center in Avon and walked through many studios, admiring their paintings and sculptures and jewelry and pottery. I was hoping to see some fabric or textile artists, but there were only a few scarfs and some felted wool objects. S and I bought two lovely handmade pottery teacups. It was a nice day.

I could probably recount each breath I took on Saturday and Sunday, but what would be the point of that? I think a blog needs a little mystery, don’t you?

I suppose, looking back, that my Thanksgiving was one of excesses, politically incorrect in this day and age, but there it is. We meant no harm by it. I neglected to mention, speaking of excesses, that we are drawing names this year for Christmas gifts, so a lot of excess money and time and shopping just got wiped away. Thank you, Jesus. Li’l Sis - the original Material Girl - was the last holdout on the switch to this procedure, but she took it quite well. On Thanksgiving, Big Sis dialed her up on the speakerphone to wish her a happy day, and we all drew names out of a large bowl . . . actually, a funny thing happened then: one of my crazy aunts had come over for dessert, and she secretly took all of the scraps of paper with our names on it out of the large bowl and made a bunch of scraps of paper with her name on them, and put those in instead. It was quite hilarious. I didn’t have my glasses on, and when I picked my scrap of paper, I was sure that it was my name, but it wasn’t quite . . . oh man. Good times.

"Useless Tidbits"

2005-11-22T11:22:00.000-05:00

I stole this from Sue.

She says: "Please feel free to steal it from me for your blog!" so I did. I felt like writing something but didn't know where to start.

1. First Name? Tricia
2. Were you named after anyone? There are lots of Patricks and Patricias in my family, and my godmother was named Patricia, so: yes. I'm the only "Tricia," though. Please don't call me Patty.
3. Do you wish on stars? Every chance I get.
4. When did you last cry? I think it was a few weeks ago, when I was listening to NPR, and there was a story about the mothers of soliders who had died. I just don't know how they carry on.
5. Do you like your handwriting? Sometimes, when I try.
6. Any bad habits? Oh my goodness. My cop-out: too many to mention here! Or: I like to focus on what I do right, not what I do wrong. ( :
7. What is your most embarrassing CD on the shelf? Rod Stewart - but that doesn't really count because I didn't buy it and I never listen to it. Barbra Streisand - "My Name is Barbra." It's a tad self-conscious or self-involved or something - I don't know. I bought it last year, to play a particular song for my husband on our anniversary - "Why Did I Choose You?" I wrote the words to the song in a card, and when he opened it, the music starting playing, and Barbra and I starting singing! It was very romantic.
8. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with you? Mostly. I am an interesting friend, but not very reliable. If I could get past that, then yes.
9. Are you a daredevil? In a way, but not in a way that anyone else would recognize.
10. Do looks matter? No. I mean, sometimes they do, but they shouldn't.
11. Where is your second home? When we were driving through west Texas last year, I got the strangest sensation that I belonged there. Maybe I lived there in a previous life. I had not really ever thought about having a previous life until I saw Texas.
12. Do you trust others easily? I used to trust everyone blithely; now I TRUST NO ONE.
13. What was your favorite toy as a child? I had a second-hand bike that was blue and had a button like a doorbell that rang out kind of like a doorbell, too. Even though it was kind of shabby and dented, I loved that bike, and I felt so free when I rode it.
14. What class in school do you think is totally useless? I took Shorthand, and the only time I ever saw any one use it was in old movies, and I'm pretty sure that was fake.
15. Do you have a journal? Does a blog count?
16. Do you use sarcasm a lot? No, and speaking the blunt truth is a very effective comedic tool - try it sometime.
17. Have you ever been in a mosh pit? No, but there are worse places that I have been in!
18. What are your nicknames? Trish, Novia, Trish-the-Dish, Momula, Mothra, Trixie
19. Would you bungee jump? No.
20. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? No, and I always regret it the next day.
21. Do you think that you are strong willed? "The Iron Fist in the Velvet Glove."
22. What's your favorite ice cream flavor? Chocolate with chocolate chips and nuts.
23. Shoe Size? 9
24. What are your favorite colors? I like all colors equally, except orange! and lime green! I dislike them equally!
25. What is your least favorite thing? Stupidity (not ignorance)
26. How many wisdom teeth do you have? None
27. How many people have a crush on you right now? oh, ten or twelve, I'm sure.
28. What do you miss most right now? Melanie, who's coming home for Thanksgiving! Yay!
29. What color pants are you wearing? Black
30. What are you listening to right now? The sounds of an office - people talking on phones, laughter, somebody wheeling something by.
31. Last thing you ate? A bowl of Corn Pops and a cup of hazelnut coffee (breakfast of champions).
32. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Purple
33. What is the weather like right now? 43 degrees - cold, windy, rainy.
34. Last person you talked to on the phone? Husband. He called me to tell me that he took a nap and had a nice dream about me.
35. The first thing you notice about the opposite sex? His aura.
36. How are you today? Medium
37. Favorite drink? diet vanilla Coke
38. Favorite alcoholic drink? white zinfandel
39. Favorite Sport? Boston Red Sox baseball
40. Hair color? reddish brown
41. Eye color? greenish brown
42. Do you wear contacts? No, I buy reading glasses at Stop & Shop. I think I'm on 2X right now.
43. Siblings? Twisted Sisters! - 2 of them - one older, one younger. I used to be the crazy one, but now I think it's a toss up between the two of them.
44. Favorite month? October. May is nice, too.
45. Favorite food? Medium rare filet mignon
46. Last movie you watched? "It Happened One Night" Clark Gable & Claudette Colbert
47. Summer or winter? Neither
48. Hugs or kisses? Both
49. Living Arrangements? Husband, me, S, M when she's not at college, and Rudy, an ancient dog. Plus the ghosts of Bev & Bud, who lived in the house first.
50. What book/magazine are you reading? American Patchwork & Quilting, Nov. 2005
51. What's on your mouse pad? "Kingswood-Oxford School / Vincit qui se vincit"
52. Last thing you watched on TV? "Medium" in 3D, except I forgot to buy TV Guide so that I could watch it in 3D. I was bumming, and when I asked J to go to the store and buy 3 copies so that we could all watch, he said no. Go figure. It was still pretty good. Intriguing that it's supposedly based on a real person who has these strange powers! I like to pretend that I do, too. I think pretending is half the battle!

I must be answering these questions incorrectly ...

2005-11-21T08:53:00.000-05:00

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Black Comedy

In your life, things are so twisted that you just have to laugh.
You may end up insane, but you'll have fun on the way to the asylum.

Your best movie matches: Being John Malkovich, The Royal Tenenbaums, American Psycho

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

Things are not that twisted, are they?!
I saw "Being John Malkovich" just a few months ago and loved it; it was really a very unusual and cleverly written movie.
I actually rented "The Royal Tenenbaums" because Luke Wilson (right? It was Luke, wasn't it? What's the other one's name?) was in it - we were first introduced to Mr. Wilson when he guest-starred in an old favorite episode of "X-Files" - the one about a whole town of vampires (ha! weren't they all? -- if that was your reaction, you didn't watch enough!). "Tenenbaums" was a similarly unusual, OK, it was a downright odd, movie, more flawed than "Malkovich" but really gripping in its strangeness.
I have not seen "American Psycho." It sounds a little too obvious.

When I win Powerball, the first thing I'm going to do is buy the entire nine seasons of X-Files, and watch one episode every Sunday night, in order. Yeah. Uh, does that qualify my life for "black comedy" status?

I don't know about this:

2005-11-18T13:30:00.000-05:00

Handholder

You go out of your way to build bridges with people of different views and beliefs and have quite a few religious friends. You believe in the essential goodness of people , which means you’re always looking for common ground even if that entails compromises. You would defend Salman Rushdie’s right to criticise Islam but you’re sorry he attacked it so viciously, just as you feel uncomfortable with some of the more outspoken and unkind views of religion in the pages of this magazine.

You prefer the inclusive approach of writers like Zadie Smith or the radical Christian values of Edward Said. Don’t fall into the same trap as super–naïve Lib Dem MP Jenny Tonge who declared it was okay for clerics like Yusuf al–Qaradawi to justify their monstrous prejudices as a legitimate interpretation of the Koran: a perfect example of how the will to understand can mean the sacrifice of fundamental principles. Sometimes, you just have to hold out for what you know is right even if it hurts someone’s feelings.

What kind of humanist are you? Click here to find out.

Maybe I'm not a humanist at all, didja ever think of that?? That would throw off this diagnosis a bit, wouldn't it?

Once a month, whether I need to or not ...

2005-11-18T12:28:00.000-05:00

I survived the full moon Wednesday night unscathed. What with Mercury in retrograde and the general insistent pressure of time's passage, the uncertainty of my job and the unknown outcome of the job interview last week, I sense I am waiting, but not in a way that is restful or calming. There is much waiting, and yet time rushes past, with still more waiting. My focus remains on experiencing the present.

My husband's sister (my sister-in-law, a title which does not spring to mind when I think of her, because I have never met her, due to the vast geographical distance between us) was diagnosed with breast cancer this week. Contrary to her previously cantankerous and impatient persona, she delivered this news in a calm, brave, upbeat-as-possible way. My esteem of her grew a great deal. Her surgery will be on December 1. I am going to try to reach out to her.

I have read many blogs over the last several weeks, and I am constantly impressed with how honest and interesting so many people are! It is my little way of traveling and meeting people - from a safe distance, of course.

Reading Jen's daily blog about food and life is like checking in with a friend; Bob's heroic effort to get healthy, physically and emotionally, is an inspiration. I care about Sally and her return to normal life after Hurricane Rita, and her developing plans to move to a retirement home. Their sharing with me is teaching me things that I will keep for a long time.

Neddie Jingo is a fascinating character and storyteller whose observations are like excerpting the most interesting passages from a vast library. I want to know more. I especially liked the post about urinating in the backyard of the president of Brazil, or something like that. (Yeah, really made an impression.)

Kyrie MeMo is, despite her sometimes glib remarks, an enigma. What must her life be like? So many times I think about her and say, why? Why?

Colin McEnroe - what can I say about Colin? He is a shapeshifter, yet a rock; a goofball, yet a genius; a truth-seeker who sometimes wades in the shallowest waters; an individual who aspires to reach the "common ruck." I follow his progress.

Lance Mannion's site is intelligent, thoughtful, wide-ranging, personable, and very readable. I keep looking for a flaw! The world needs more people like Lance; or at least more sites like his.

The latest goofy site that I use one of my daily clicks on is You Knit What? I'm sure it helps to be a knitter to appreciate the ambience, but it is very funny and the people that comment on the daily posts - many times 30, 40 or 50 comments! - all agree on what is "fugly." A beleagured man once asked, why can't we all just get along? Maybe if we all knitted, we could.

Off to read more blogs! Please confirm that you have not read this, so that I may once again find my nerve and write what I'm really thinking.

On Saturday, you will be mine!

2005-10-27T15:53:00.000-04:00

Isn't it purty? Look how shiny and pristine! It's like the Heavens are saying, "Buy this one!"

The time has come to retire the sleek black machine that is the Momula-mobile. It sounds heartless, but it can do no more for me, so out it goes. It's shocking how attached I get to these vehicles.

Yes, it has carried me hither and yon for five years, but it's also cost me a hell of a lot of money and aggravation. It has seen me through many happy times and many trying times, but it's also caused some of those trying times, too, so what I want is a RELIABLE car. And the Phantom Gray Pearl is it.

Uh, yeah, that's it's name. So far. I didn't make it up - it's the name of the paint color, so why not the whole car? Maybe "Phantom" for short. Or, "the car." I'm trying not to get emotionally involved with it already.

And now, a post for you, the inimitable S

2005-10-19T13:24:00.000-04:00

On a beautiful day to play field hockey, best wishes to the Red Team. I wish I could be there. Hopefully M will be good luck (this time) instead of neutral luck (like last time). I have it on good authority that there will be NO large sign on the sidelines with your name or anyone else's; however, I believe there will come a day when you will cherish that sign.

Did you know about the new Lemony Snicket book? Do you care? It's the twelfth, so I think you should collect it and read it, and hang in there for the thirteenth. It's nice to have a complete set.

The CD we were listening to this morning is by Eric Clapton, of course, and called Me and Mr. Johnson. I love this one in a more scholarly and reserved way than From the Cradle, which is probably the best CD in the world. Or top three, anyway. I read somewhere that while writing and recording what would become Back Home, his newest CD, EC and his band launched into classic Robert Johnson songs when they were stuck, and those takes became this CD. The liner notes in Johnson, by EC himself, are a humble and reverent explanation of how much Robert Johnson's music has meant to him in his life - the root of his love of music, really - and the love, truth and sincerity he uses in recreating Johnson's master works is the reason that EC's blues catalog is the natural progression and cultivation of Johnson's original genius seed.
I decided to find out more about Robert Johnson, this man who has had such an influence on a man who has had such an influence on the world, and me. There are several fan and info sites about Robert Johnson, but the "Tribute Homepage" is a small and uncomplicated but interesting site that tells brief stories about his short life: he started recording songs at age 24 and was dead at 27. There are legends and whiffs of satan and mysticism. It's enriching and wonderful that individuals' lives can echo throughout the years, long after their physical presence is gone.

I told M about renaming the dog, and she laughed and said, "Can we really name our next dog Dave McCave?" and I realized that I have been reading and reciting that book for 20+ years, and never made the connection - all 23 Daves have the last name McCave! That Dr. Seuss was a COMIC GENIUS! Maybe we'll get two new dogs - one Rudy Two, and one Dave McCave. ("One Buffalo Bill, and one Biffalo Buff") Or we could copy those two you met in the park, and name them Rudy and Stella.

And often she wishes that, when they were born,
She had named one of them Bodkin Van Horn.
And one of them Hoos-Foos. And one of them Snimm.
And one of them Hot-Shot. And one Sunny Jim.
And one of them Shadrack. And one of them Blinkey.
And one of them Stuffy. And one of them Stinkey.
Another one Putt-Putt. Another one Moon Face.
Another one Marvin O'Gravel Balloon Face.
And one of them Ziggy. And one Soggy Muff.
One Buffalo Bill. And one Biffalo Buff.
And one of them Sneepy. And one Weepy Weed.
And one Paris Garters. And one Harris Tweed.
And one of them Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt.
And one of them Oliver Boliver Butt.
And one of them Zanzibar Buck-Buck McFate . . . .

excerpted from "The Sneetches and other Stories" by Dr. Seuss

. . . And one of them Melanie, and one of them Stella . . .

What is evil?

2005-10-17T22:52:00.000-04:00

Let me just say that I wrote this a long time ago, when a vast and compelling person asked the
question: what is evil? In addition to pencils, I believe my list also included Burger King and the Yankees. Here was my elaboration on my answer:

_______________________

Allow me to justify “pencils” on my “evil” list, and explain my approach to creating the list:

I believe I understood the “assignment:” what is evil? What otherwise innocuous item or being or concept is haunting or chilling or oozing bad vibes at you? The thing is, when I started to think about what those things might be to me, I had a sense of peeking behind a dark, heavy curtain that I had hung long ago and never disturbed, a place where I unconsciously keep all those things that are evil to me… the list I sent to you was just a sample. This is not a fearful thing: I keep them, I put them there to simplify my life and smooth my progress, not out of fear. They are away from me now, separate from me, unable to affect or restrain me.

I know everyone has these lists, some short, some very long, some comprised of an inability to comprehend or cope or accept, some that list representatives of that which is despised or envied. I am aware of my and others’ reactions to these stimuli, and I decided long ago to rid myself of these burdens. They don’t bother me now – I only made my list to protect everyone else!

I don’t use pencils. I stopped using them altogether a few years ago, although it was a gradual process. When faced with the ubiquitous mug of writing instruments, I would hesitate, then choose a pen, any pen, over a pencil. Mechanical pencils were a lurking menace – in selecting what looked like a pen, the psychic jolt when I quickly stroked the paper with the nib and saw a thin, gray line instead of a rich, bold black or blue was startling. I tried to make peace with them: maybe it was the yellow-coated six-sided body of the traditional utensil that repulsed me, and the sleek modern mechanical would carry me to the future of pencils…but no. The silver or gold clips, fine materials, capped erasers, fussy twist-open body revealing thin, fragile pencil leads seemed foolish to me – all this hoopla and effort and fuss to create a PENCIL line, something so ineffectual and fleeting, so easily erased! How many times had I seen notes, words, ventures, proposals, created, then erased after their weight had been considered? How easy it is, how nonchalant and cavalier and meaningless it is to write something with a pencil. Go ahead, write it down. Don’t like it? Didn’t mean it? Didn’t think it all the way through? A mistake? Erase it. It’s gone – no guilt, no consequences, no qualms - no lesson learned. Start again.
How much time has been wasted, writing with pencils? How many brains have been trained to write, erase, write, erase, without considering the impact of the written word, without intending what is written? How will these brains react in other situations of choice, decisions, judgements? The impermanence of words written in pencil is a symbol of the flaw that permeates our society: meaninglessness. To borrow from Lewis Carroll, Write what you mean, and mean what you write.

Meet OURSELVES

2005-10-17T15:03:00.000-04:00

Another sign of the downfall of American culture, courtesy of nytimes.com:

Meet the Life Hackers – even the title is annoying, recalling the glib, baby-boom style of “zany” of “Meet the Fockers,” a wallet-padder for Hoffman, Steisand and DeNiro, and more of the same from Ben Stiller. The article purports to show how Microsoft “geeks” are developing software to “help” computer users bring “sanity” and order to their working life by finding ways to anticipate when the user is in the mood to read email, whether the overworked user is in crisis mode (and should not be bothered), and apparently, how many screens or different applications the user has open. Maybe I’m only puttering along the access road to the information superhighway, but come on. You don’t know how many apps you have open? Try cutting back on the Starbucks visits.

Disdainful of many cubicle-dwellers’ habit of scribbling “important” notes on a Post-It and sticking it on the side of their screen, the geeks feel that they need to invent a software program to do that for you, monitoring time-sensitive tasks and upcoming meetings, for instance. (My college-senior daughter has already downloaded a shareware program that actually creates electronic Post-Its that work just like the original paper variety – a novelty, but not a big “improvement.” And what if your computer dies, stalls, or is turned off?)

The central danger of interruptions, Czerwinski realized, is not really the interruption at all. It is the havoc they wreak with our short-term memory: What the heck was I just doing?

According to studies by the geeks in the article, the primary force working against us, apparently, is our infantile inability to remain focused on a task. Why is the solution “write a software program” and not “try improving your memory or organizing your desk or work or life”?

More studies and experiments show that another solution to our current computer and monitor’s inability to cure what ails us is a 42-inch monitor screen – of course! the typical American answer to everything.

Some of the volunteers were so enthralled with the huge screen that they begged to take it home.

That’s just sad.

Half way through the article, the “solution” to this “problem” is realized, but quickly brushed past by the author: Low-tech answers:

It turns out that a certain amount of life-hacking is simply cultivating a monklike ability to say no.

Monklike? How about simply being a cognizant, reasonably well-organized adult, not giving in to our short-term, short-circuited 5-second attention span?

("Unless you're working in a Korean missile silo, you don't need to check e-mail every two minutes," he argues.)

Amen! I think the name of the concept is SELF-CONTROL. Instead of “improving” our computers, let’s improve ourselves.

shout out to the divine Ms. M

2005-10-14T14:55:00.000-04:00

For my one reader:

An amusing, kind of old post by Lance Mannion regarding your fave TV show.
Rain is destroying the field hockey season! Another game canceled today (Black Team, not Red). Red Team played last Tuesday in Canterbury, and kicked butt 4-1!
Made a delicious Cajun Cake for a departing co-worker last night: love the cake, glad the co-worker is gone. A win-win. Who knew so many people don't like coconut? What's wrong with them?
This never gets old, does it? (:

or this:
Remember when we painted your room "Lemon Pound Cake" and I was compelled to make one?

What I did on my two week vacation from blog:

2005-10-10T20:52:00.000-04:00

in which I finally got a haircut, hit a teenager running across the street (IT WASN'T MY FAULT! the light was green! and besides, he's OK), and turned 43. Whew.

No great reflections on getting older today... I cherish time, and age, and I feel lucky for each year that goes by, but I feel like that most days. The way I can tell I'm getting older is how old my daughters are! They are such wonderful, beautiful people.

"The accident," as I am referring to it, when I do refer to it, was probably the most horrific thing that I have ever been personally involved in. One minute I'm driving along, early for work, just having a day, then suddenly I'm shaking and shuddering and my brain is spinning, and there's cops and bystanders and firetrucks and an ambulance and holy crap! A 16-year-old boy laying half on the road, half on the sidewalk. He ran in front of an SUV that had stopped because it was taking a left, but I was to the right of the SUV, going through the green light. Fortunately, he was not hurt badly - his right arm looked pretty sore, but was not bleeding or cut up - and fortunately, several people gave their names and statements to the police, saying that the light was green, I was not speeding, and the kid ran right in front of my car. Friends tell me that my auto insurance carrier will automatically get sued by his health insurance carrier, which is horrible because IT WASN'T MY FAULT, but hopefully that won't happen. Don't get me started about insurance companies.

Notice to that woman at the mall who I had entrusted with my hair for the last 3 months: IT'S OVER. I found a REAL hairstylist, who cut my hair THE WAY I WANT IT. What a concept. My hair is shorter, and it's layered, and it looks GOOD. Thank you to SHARON at JCPenney Hair Salon! See you in 8 weeks!

Brother-in-law B and sister-in-law M are expecting their third child in March ... hoping for a girl this time ... this should motivate me to finish the housewarming gift I made for them, so that I can get going on a baby blanket.

I'm still following Sally's blog about her life in Beaumont, TX (home of erstwhile Boston first baseman Ke'Millar - wonder if they know each other?). Sally is a survivor of Hurricane Rita - not a nutty one who rode out the storm, but a smart one who made hotel reservations in cities far enough away to be safe. A fascinating blog by an interesting person. I want to encourage her to write more about her career as an engineer.

But now, back to real life.

On Sunday

2005-09-25T12:59:00.000-04:00

Every Grain of Sand
by Bob Dylan

In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.

Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.

I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.

I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me.
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.

Copyright © 1981 Special Rider Music

* * *

Also, today is li'l Sis' birthday. Happy birthday, Li'l Sis! How does it feel?

2005-09-23T09:09:00.000-04:00

A link from blog teacher Colin McEnroe's blog, "A Handbook for Bloggers and Cyber-dissidents" contains a chapter that explains "How to blog anonymously" via the fictional story of Sarah, who wants to blow the whistle on her embezzler boss anonymously. Despite the technical descriptions and instructions, it was very interesting - add a few paragraphs about Sarah's personal life, her apartment, her co-workers, her sessions with the geeks that help her encrypt her stuff, and you'd have quite a nailbiting little thriller. Let's see, who could be in the movie? Maybe Sienna Miller as Sarah and Pierce Brosnan as the deputy minister stealing millions. I'll have to think about who could play the geeks.

I almost feel like a voyeur reading the terse, compelling narrative by Sally describing her flight from Beaumont, TX in the face of Hurricane Rita. Half of me is heartbroken at this glimpse into the anguishing effect the evacuation is having on her life; the other half wants to read more. I hope for her sake the rest is a description of hours of boredom, waiting for the storm to blow over and her eventual return to her home, to find the yard flooded but everything else OK.

Powerball update: Out of 30 tickets, we won $10, and promptly bought 40 more. Hopefully I'll get lucky Saturday night (:

intro to science and politics / MWF 1:45-4:30

2005-09-22T13:30:00.000-04:00

Well, if I may be so bold: in traipsing through the various blogs, I have come across this one a few times, and while I quickly feel intellectually inferior to this individual, I am compelled to lurk and learn. I was pleased to discover that his explanation for his blogging is similar to mine, although he may be more justified than me!
I remain a distracted, yet interested, student.

Science And Politics: "6) Why do you blog?
- I think I was waiting all my life for the technology that would let me write my thoughts for everyone to read. I always think as if I am constructing an essay (or a speech) and felt that it is a pity most of that never got written down and shared. I never bothered keeping a hand-written diary because I crave the audience."

Back to normal

2005-09-22T08:55:00.000-04:00

OK, we didn't win. Well, not really. We got 3 numbers. I don't know if we get anything for that. *sigh* It's just as well.

* * *

This has become our norm: listening to poignant stories on NPR about soldiers in Iraq, coming home, or more often, not coming home. Their lives: short, some sweet, some kind of tough, just out of high school where God knows they haven't really seen life, not like we know it is, and their mothers: oh my God, how do they even speak? It is a testimony to their love and courage that they can speak to a reporter about their sons and daughters.

This has become our norm: watching on TV and computer screens the colorful spirals of rain and wind and hail and clouds inch slowly toward our homes, our people, our lives, deadly inexorable beauty, unstoppable, implacable, without mercy or humanity; nature, oblivious to mankind. The horror of untimely death, the cruelty of the destruction of so many lives, so many that we all have someone to relate to.

This has become our norm: revelations of ineptitude, rumors of malicious intent, allegations of greed and stupidity and indifference. How can we believe what we are told? Who is really working on our behalf and who really has our best interests at heart? Who even knows what our best interests are, as splintered as we all are? I'm tired and I want to believe what I hear and see; I'm angry and I know they're wrong. He's our leader >slap< our enemy >slap< our President >slap< our captor >slap< we elected him! >slap< we hate him!

The fever!

2005-09-21T12:33:00.000-04:00

This is it – on the edge of the precipice! Tonight my life will change forever. Tomorrow I will be me, but a completely changed me. Changed for better or worse? If history holds true, for worse, but perhaps that is not my fate. Maybe I can be the one that doesn’t prove the rule. I stand ready, waiting, to take on this new life:
I WILL HAVE WON POWERBALL TONIGHT!
T organized a group of six of us in my office who each put in $5. We will all quit our jobs tomorrow, ahead of our being laid off in the spring. Take your severance and shove it. Ha!

In addition to employing some accountants and lawyers to handle all of the details, I would of course want to establish a charitable trust of some kind to give something back to this big ol’ world that has given me so much. I would also like to invest in some companies that are looking for long-term solutions to poverty, education and alternative energy. On a more personal side, I will need to go on a little shopping spree.

What I will do with my $5 million dollars:
First on the list: buy a Maxima 3.5 SL. I’ve thought a long time about this, it is not an impulse purchase. Related: donate my Concorde to a charity. Also stop by the Hummer dealership & pick one up for J.
Pay the bills: mortgage, M’s college tuition, S’s h.s. tuition, credit cards, etc.
Give some money to all the sisters & brothers, in-laws, etc. How much? I have no idea. Whatever the going rate is.
I once heard Oprah talk about being rich – having “enough” money – and one of the things she said was, she could now buy a whole case of pantyhose, and the minute a pair got one single little tiny run in them, throw them out. *That* would be *nice.* Not that I paint the runs with nail polish anymore. I just let them go until they are embarassing.
OK, never mind the Maxima. Buy a white Cadillac, cruise out to Austin and sit in a honky-tonk with Willie Nelson and drink tequila. Not enough to make me sick, just enough to make me forget for awhile.
Or maybe the Florida Keys. I’d really like to be in one of those Corona commercials, sitting in a chaise lounge at the beach in the shade, with a beer. I’m sure I could learn to like Corona.
[Strange how my Powerball fantasies involve so much alcohol when I barely touch the stuff now.]
Buy some Green Monster seat tickets to the NY-Boston series at the end of the month. Oh yeah. Money’s no object there.
Buy all nine seasons of The X-Files on DVD. You’re welcome, Chris Carter.

Will being rich make me fat, or will I get skinnier?Will people from my past really come out of the woodwork to look me up? Even Jim Lanier, who I haven’t heard from since I left him at the Wilmington, NC bus station 25 years ago? I wonder what ever happened to him. Jim, go ahead and give me a call. I’ll buy you a beer, but that’s about it.

background

2005-09-20T11:25:00.000-04:00

So, my kids are still a big deal to me, maybe too big, but M's imminent flying from the nest is making it more and more obvious that I need to "get a life" for when they go out on their own ... I have my little hobbies: quilting, knitting, and I dote on the dog, Rudy. It simply makes me feel good to create beautiful things, and what a boost to my ego when I give them away and people exclaim how wonderful they are. I run one of the cameras at blues shoots that get made into the "Blues Plate Special" on public access TV, and direct the studio interviews with the bands, which makes me feel like I'm still a little cool. I'm still very much a fan of the Red Sox! Last fall was an incredible time! We - all four of us - watched virtually every game all summer - that's just what we do in the summer, this summer, too; most all other TV shows just go away - and so we were swept along on a magical ride that had a fairy tale ending! At the time I thought a lot about my grandmother, my dad's mom, who I remember so vividly supporting and heckling the Sox on TV as she puffed away on her Pall Malls and knitted hats and blankets; she died in 1992. I could relate to all of the people who told their stories of relatives who had passed away without seeing the Sox win a World Series. Now, J and I share our love of baseball - he is relatively new to it, as Texans generally don't pay much attention to it, but he has been forced to by his proximity to me. As the years have gone by, (six this past June) I realize how little I knew him when we married, but maybe that's to be expected. How could you really really know someone before you have lived with him for six years? Makes me wonder what more I will know six years from now, and six years after that? Is a marriage a lifetime of getting to know someone more and more? Do you think it's true that the first year is the hardest?
Last Thanksgiving we (J, S and I - M had to be at school) drove to Minneapolis to finally see my sister's home there. We spent the weekend with her, her boyfriend and his son, and then we drove down to El Paso to see J's family: his parents and two brothers and their families live there, and one of his sisters and her family drove over from Killeen, TX. It was quite a family reunion, and I'm glad we did it. The driving thing was at once glorious and grueling - I love seeing the country, but unfortunately, to make good time, you really have to stick to the interstates which start to look very much the same.
Here are some of my impressions from the trip: there are many dead deer on the side of the road in Pennsylvania. Chicago is a beautiful city, with a distinctly Midwestern design. Cheese is sold liberally in Wisconsin. Iowa is very neat, all squares and rows, with virtually no people. Tumbleweeds really do exist, and not just in ghost towns: we had a run-in with one in the Texas panhandle. We were watching it come bouncing along the street, and it attached itself to the front bumper of our rented minivan; we had to stop at a 7-Eleven, laughing hysterically, and disattach it. I think now we should have kept it somehow. There was a young guy who worked at an all-night gas station/truck stop in Oklahoma; we were the only customers there at 4 in the morning, and he pointed me toward the coffee machine. He was writing something in a notebook while he sat at the register, and when I paid for the coffee, I could read upside down in his notebook that he was making a list of Christmas gifts for people. Several people had "poetry" next to their names. I was again reminded that ordinary, seemingly insignificant people have whole unique worlds inside of them. We drove on smaller roads south from Amarillo all the way down to Odessa, past cotton fields, where we stopped on a long lonely stretch and picked a little branch of a cotton plant, to the famous oil fields, where the pumps or drills or whatever they are called, bobbed rhythmically up and down, and then up the border through the desert, at sunset, with beautiful mountain ranges and strange plants into the large city of El Paso. It was wonderful. I love Texas, in spite of all of the negative stuff associated with it, and would love to spend some time there. Someday maybe.

Prince Rudolfo Bocanegro de Navarro

2005-09-19T16:16:00.000-04:00

OK, let's get the nauseating stuff out of the way:
Is this the cutest dog you've ever seen or what? I took this picture at my daughter's field hockey game about six years ago. That's my husband petting him. Rudy is now about 15 years old and doesn't look so good any more. He doesn't like riding in the car, his fur is not so fluffy and plush, his teeth are dwindling and he often doesn't make it outside to go, but he is, like virually all dogs, a sweet companion and a faithful friend. He never forgets a treat, and he would protect me from all foes if he could see or hear them.

(uh-oh, the dreaded) random thoughts

2005-09-19T15:53:00.000-04:00

Let's watch what happens in Germany vis-a-vis their too-close-to-call election . . . . Gore v Bush 2000, anyone?

Weighing in: if New Orleans was white & wealthy, FEMA et al would have been there on Tuesday 8/30. Obviously, their real first priority was not saving lives.
As previously noted (in real life, not here), I'm generally overwrought or numb. TV and newspaper coverage of the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina brings tears to my eyes. How can this happen in this country? It is heartbreaking and frightening. We need to find a way to bring something good out of all this misery.

Today is my parents' anniversary, and my sister's birthday.
Happy anniversary, Mom & Dad.
Happy birthday, Lisa.

there's a first time for everything

2005-09-19T15:15:00.000-04:00

and today is it. My first post to my first blog. What have I been waiting for? Well... perhaps we'll get into that as time goes by. Suffice to say, I would like to being by solemnly swearing to maintain an interesting, insightful blog that does somebody some good, somewhere. Even if it's only me.
a note: I must forget that you are all out there, or I will never write a thing.