Happy New Year 2011

Yes. It's December 31st. I can only blame my long absence on the kerfuffle that leads up to the Christmas holiday, the weather and the recovering from aforesaid holiday. Throw in maintenance health visits, etc. and the time flies! Considering the drama of the recent weather across the world, I hope that everyone is where they want to be, and that they're safe now.

New Year's Eve and day is a funny ole holiday. It's kind of a between-times holiday with a certain amount of unreality for me. As a child I remember these riotous parties my parents would throw, the ball would drop in Times Square in New York City and everyone would leave 1/2 hour later. Aside from having to relearn how to write the year, my overall feeling was "is that it????" Thank goodness some cities and towns have at least started having fireworks to mark the calendar turn over. More fun.

I also find it fascinating that it is a national holiday. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE having holidays off from work and life. It's just that aside from a page turning on the Gregorian calendar (thus refreshing the calendar industry), New Year's is rather a non-event. New Year's doesn't even have a pagan or cultural figure attached - there's no planetary movement or St. Valentine. Heck, the Super Bowl conjurs up more excitement (not to mention domestic repercussions).

I'm wondering if it became a holiday out of sheer necessity. The necessity of recovering from the widespread consumption of gallons of alcoholic beverages "celebrating" the end of the old year - that the first day of the new year had to be devoted to hangovers. Perhaps it was done so the industrial workforce could simply blow off steam - in a culturally approved manner. Certainly, it's a great idea to review the year that's past and make new goals for the new year. Or was it simply so that the over imbibers could count their sins from the night before?

The practice of New Years celebrations seems to be mainly a European export which has, in the last 100 years, taken over much of the Northern Hemisphere. Folks who celebrate religious new years - rather than calendar new years - I wonder what they think of all this hoopla. How did the Gregorian calendar seem to rule the world's timekeeping? Was it one of the Popes? Can we point to the Catholic church? The industrial revolution? Politics? or simply Money?

Whatever the cause, however you choose to mark this eve and day - or not - I wish you a Joyful, Healthy, Prosperous and Loving 2011!

Comes The Dawn

I came across this poem again. It's a favorite of mine. It disappeared into my sea of papers when I moved five years ago. It's a clipping taken from a newspaper from an old Ann Landers column where she had reprinted it at the request of a reader. The clipping is so seemingly ancient, the paper is yellowish brown and brittle with age. The poem itself is timeless. Here it is.

"Comes the Dawn"

by Veronica A. Shoffstall

"After a while you learn the subtle difference

Between holding a hand and chaining a soul

And you learn that love doesn't mean security,

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts

And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats

With your head up and your eyes open

With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.

And you learn to build all your roads on today,

Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,

And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine

Burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden, and decorate your own soul,

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong,

And you really do have worth.

And you learn and learn...

With every goodbye, you learn."

Namaste.

Santa Sighting!

It's true! I saw Santa Claus yesterday, and not in his usual locales. Yes, o.k., it's the pre-Christmas season, and there are Santa's helpers dressed like Santa all over the place. They are helping to collect money for good causes. They are busy attending parties in hosptials, ancient age living facilities, singing at concerts, and even helping to sell cars. And toys are collected all over the country to go into Santa's red sack for distribution to children everywhere. Santa Claus is a great humanitarian. He really helps out the economy by allowing his image to show up on every piece of merchandizing available during the Christmas season. Why do we all like Santa Claus? Well, those of us who aren't Grinches, adore his loving generosity and merry spirit.

Lord knows, Santa has a lot on his plate this time of year - so why would he show up in my life? My answer is.....Why not????? There he was as large-as-life, and in-the-flesh! (Typing those expressions down does make me wonder where they came from. They're kind of creepy. Anyhow....) How did it happen that Santa was there? Let me explain. I had been out for the day at an appointment and doing my weekly food shopping on the way home. The interstate sounded chock-a-block with cars, so I decided to drive the back way. Less traffic there, the scenery's a lot nicer, and there are a lot of pretty Christmas lights.

At one point, there I am with my car paused to turn onto the next street - when a shiny, new red truck came up, and turned in front of me to go down the street I was leaving. Santa was driving! Honestly. Santa was driving the red truck. (Maybe he uses a truck for daytime travel in suburbia.) He was wearing his hat and red suit. It matched the color of his truck. And his beard was full, and snowy white. His cheeks were rosy and round.

I was so thrilled to see him, I just grinned. I sat there in my car, oblivious to any thing else, watching Santa make his turn in front of me. When he saw me staring at him, Santa smiled at me and waved. I waved back. For a brief moment, we connected. Then....we both continued our respective travels - me, with a lighter heart.

I love magic when it crosses my path. Santa's crossing was magic for me. It was wonderful to see him. Whoever says that Santa doesn't exist - just isn't looking.

A Bookstore Cafe Refugee

Hello. I'm sitting here in Borders cafe which is not where I usually choose to spend my time. I am a refugee from my bathroom. Well, it's more accurate to say that I'm a refugee from the guys in my bathroom. Ever since my super arranged for the leak in my bathroom ceiling to be repaired, I have made every effort to give them free range to do the repairs without me hanging around. It's also a sound tactical move as toilet access is severly compromised.

So far, I've managed to be busy for the past 4 days with appointments, etc. And then, the universe, to be helpful I'm sure, put my "check engine" light on in my car. So I spent much of yesterday chillin' in my friendly car service waiting room. But hey. It's Friday already! I'm tired of running away from home. I wanted to sleep in this morning. I'm tired of trying to find my toothpaste and toothbrush. They, along with my hairbrush, have been migrating all over my apartment, wherever my impulsive reasoning has left them. My towel has been staying in the bedroom, but I keep forgetting to take it whenever I wash my hands. O.K., I admit it.... Whine, whine,whine. It's unsettling not to have stuff where you're used to having it. There's also the small problem of not getting any of my work done!

This simple repair was supposed to take 2 days. It's amazing how dispossessed I feel. Part of the problem is that the "compound" has needed to dry each day. So it's not just the lack of toilet access. I cannot shower, and steam up the room. Yes. It's true. I have not showered for 4 days. I know. So. In an act of desperation, I called some good friends who live a mere 9 miles away, and I will shower at their place this afternoon. Yes, the universe willing, I will be clean and happy tonight.

In the meantime, I am deeply grateful for bookstore cafes. Not only do they offer an addict a convenient shot of caffiene surrounded by my favorite entertainment, they're nice. (Mind you, an unexpected shot of steam can be startling while you're working.) Bookstore cafes are a wonderful alternative to escape to when you need to "leave home" for whatever reason. I've never been able to enjoy working in a library. It always feels so constrained. There's no coffeecake either! I also frequently mutter to myself when I'm thinking, and that's frowned upon in a library. In a bookstore cafe or a coffee shop, I'm just regarded as strange. :) So, on behalf of myself and all other refugees from their homes (or lives) - please keep supporting your bookstores so that we have a place to go!

The Sky's Come Back

Yes. O.K. The sky is always there. I'm talking about my particular patch of sky. But, just for a moment....

I have to ask you. "How often do you actually stop, and look at the sky for, say, 20 seconds?" Go ahead. Look up. Use your eyes to explore all the sky you can see for 20 seconds. It's longer than you think. Try it. You'll find it's longer than checking to see if it's going to rain soon - without making you late for your next stop. Where ever that is. The sky can be rather beautiful. Especially if you remember to breathe.

Now. The main patch of sky I call mine is what I can see from my living room windows. There are two, and being right next to one another, they create an almost picture window. Usually, I can see quite a bit. This morning I realized my sky had doubled in size. The clouds seemed larger, more dramatic with the morning sun giving them incredible depth. At one point, a tiny sliver of silver silently crossed the blue depth between two monstrously gigantic white cottony clouds. It was like a children's story book illustration. That tiny, silver sliver was a "jumbo" passenger jet plane - so small as to seem unreal. It was all incredibly beautiful.

Where did all this space come from allowing my eyes to roam?

I finally figured it out. Very simple. All the leaves are gone. And I do mean gone. They've gone from the trees, gone from the vines, gone from the bushes. Autumn is done. What the leaves have left behind are living bones between me and the sky. The naked trunks and branches allow me, now, to see almost twice as much sky through my windows. They've become part of my sky. Perhaps it is Nature's compensation for the cold temperatures and long darkness at night. During the short days, with no leaves in the way, we get to see twice as much light. The canvas has doubled in size. The sun and clouds can really play with design, contrast, color, light and changing forms. And having it framed by my windows not only gives me a more focused view, it also makes it more precious.

In the summer, my patch of sky is half as big. So, yes. In a very real way, now that the Winter Solstice is fast approaching, the sky has come back.

How'd It Get to Be December???

Yes. I know. December does tend to follow Thanksgiving very quickly. It's just that this sudden download of Christmas everything is throwing me off my stride! I am SO not ready. My sister's already talking about where I'm going to sleep when I come visit for the holiday, where they're going to put me and what they can put me on. (This can be it's own special type of nightmare.) I haven't even concentrated on shopping for presents yet, or sending holiday cards, or even preparing myself mentally to guard against all that tempting holiday food. Sigh. At this rate.... with this lack of my emotional preparedness, the New Year is probably going to be a great shock, too.

As a quick followup to my last post - the MRI test results were safely within the normal range, and somewhat inconclusive. (Mind you - continuing the theme of inner beauty - my neck bones look really good.) My general doctor type is convinced I've got carpal tunnel, instead. He feels that there is nothing wrong with my neck, and has scheduled a neurological test for next Wednesday. I figure the two fellows can fight it out over the new test result, and that by Christmas we'll all have some idea what's going on. Or not.

Now, throw in the fact that my annual checkups fall into this same month, my December will be spent mainly with the medical profession. Much to my insurance company's dismay, I suspect, I'm going to be spending more time with medical types than my friends! Maybe they'll serve hot Wassail in the drs' offices. Well, I can hope. Or maybe I can sing the "Hallelujah" chorus from Handel's "Messiah" at each visit. Either that, or the Dreidel Song. Are there any Kwanzaa songs?

Yes. Where is that childhood joy and anticipation of the holiday????? Oh right. The medical profession has decided that I'm human, and therefore, totally vulnerable to deep biological damage resulting from living on this planet. The only way to save my sorry human tush, is to examine and/or test the hell out of it. No wonder we age. Dealing with the medical profession would age anyone! I'm beginning to understand why some folks avoid going to the doctor at all.

Well, it is December, and I choose to look for the magic in the holidays. People are already being nicer to one another. Colored lights are popping up all over. These may be the longest nights of the year - but the Christmas lights that blossom in December really do create their own magic. Whatever the reason, this season is still kind of fun.

Waiting on Test Results

This is about the old time lag between the test and the results. (Yes, this makes two posts on "lags!" LOL.) After my sylvan Thanksgiving visit and close-encounters with Mother Nature, I proceeded into the world of high-tech the morning following my return home. I had an MRI - also known as a "Magnetic Resonance Imaging" test so that the medical establishment (and my doctor) could have a look at the internal state of my neck.

I've had MRI's before. Not to mention PET scans which use a similar technology - or at least the same kind of donut machine. Depending on the test seems to determine the length of the tube. The tests have been kind of fun - in the past. I have seen various parts of my bone body over the years. And I've got to tell you, my bones are simply stunning to look at. They are things of beauty. Text book, not to mention rather lovely in their shape. It's the soft tissue with which I have challenges! Both in use, and in beauty of appearance.

This test, however, although producing a lovely image of my cervical region (yes, I always look at the pictures after. That's half the fun!), was particularly brutal to get through. Perhaps it was because it was so close to my ears and brain - but the noise was almost unbearable - in spite of the earplugs and the thing holding my head in place. It became torture by sound for almost 20 minutes. The noise, in addition to being loud, seemed to drill repetitively into my skull for incredibly long periods of time. If the technician hadn't checked in with me after 10 minutes - I would've aborted the test. And these things aren't cheap! Esp. as my health insurance hasn't even agreed to cover it yet.

Afterwards, the techs said you could tell it was a machine designed by a man because the noise factor hadn't been taken into account. Rather like mammograms. However - in fairness to the male sex - anyone, male or female - so enamoured with the efficiacy of their creation - probably wouldn't think of the noise factor. Because it is a rather marvelous invention. It just needs upgrading really fast 'cause I'm not sure I could take another session like that again.

Anyhoo - back to the test lag. I wasn't being tested for anything serious. I don't think. I hope not. And there lies the rub with having a test. You're used to being you before a test - esp. a health test. You're almost comfortable with the symptoms - assuming they're not immediately life threatening - after all, you've (or in this case, I've) been living with them for some time. But they're not going away. And in my case, they've gotten a bit worse. So. You wonder. And then you have a test.

Presumably, I'll find out the results this week. I'm not sure whether I want to know if there is a definitive problem in my neck. On the other hand, if it shows nothing, what does that help??? And, if there is a problem, is it fixable? By surgery or physical therapy? (Do I want to go there?) Or can I trade in that part of my body and get a bionic one? If there isn't an apparent problem, is it simply in my mind? What next, then? Talk therapy?????

That's the problem with tests and the time lag before you get your results. The uncertainty and the worry. Even if you try very hard to ignore the whole thing. 'Cause your symptoms keep reminding you of the test! Tests - in whatever category - are rather like hurdles. There's your life as you know it before. You jump over the hurdle, and your unknown life begins. Maybe the lag time between test and results can be compared to the time a horse and rider is suspended in air over the hurdle. The big difference being that the horse and rider know really fast how they did. It's us humans with our checks and balances and bureaucratic procedures that force us to stay in a state of uncertainty long enough to become completely paranoid! LOL.

Not to worry. My symptions are not serious - I hope! I've lived this way for some time now. And, if push comes to shove, I could manage one way or the other to go on this way. I suspect my main worry is that I'll have a humongeous amount of physical therapy to do - and I really don't like exercising by rote. Hell, I've never been fond of repetitive exercise. It's very taxing. Not to mention, extremely boring. Sigh.

I would guess that the old test lag is rather like purgatory. It's neither here nor there. It just is. Again - probably character building. I wish you the absence of "lags" in your life.

And so it goes....

Holiday Lag

We've got jet lag. Why not holiday lag? Or post-holiday dislocation?

It's the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I traveled to my sister's the day before T'giving and returned home yesterday afternoon. I had a lovely time. We were in the country and the utter silence was amazing. Well. It wasn't total silence. Nature made herself known, but even the animals we saw all seemed to be on a mute button. Unlike in my condominium, there were no neighbors living above, below or next to our walls. We were the creators of our own joyful noise at their house.

What did we do? We basked lazily in front of the wood stoves. We played darts. We saw a herd of deer. At one point, I startled a mole and a cotton-tailed rabbit. T'giving morning we went for a walk on a nearby railtrail and saw the most magnificent hawk fly lazily across our path. And the sleeping? Superb. No one to wake you up several times in the middle of the night. The silence was almost loud in its quietude. It was as it felt - far, far away from my life - with "civilization" close enough by not to cause panic in this surburan dweller.

And then I came home. Being back feels completely unreal. It's something like the jet lag you get when you travel by plane for 6 or more hours after going away for a week. Being home does not feel like home. Perhaps it is because the preparation for and then, celebrating the holiday was so tightly scheduled. We all wanted to make the most of the time we had for the holiday. Now, I'm back to being my own deadline maker. I'm not liking it much, even tho' I sometimes craved alone time while surrounded by family!

Yes. I unpacked, put my leftovers (yum, leftovers!) in the fridge and thought - o.k. Now what? It had been cloudy all day, when near sunset, the sun broke through under the edge of clouds. The sky was amazing. There were reds, purples, oranges, pinks, mauves, greys, whites, darks and colored wisps. Thankfully, I went out for a drive simply to watch the whole sky. It was beautiful.

Then I was home again. Things still felt strange. They have all day today, too. Yes, I have appointments, dates, maintenance work, plans, etc., etc., and they all seem unreal. This happens to me at Christmas-time too. Holiday lag shows up in the feeling that you're living a kind of quasi-real half-life until your world rights itself (or re-asserts itself). Or the lag ends when you've gotten so involved you don't realize you're back in the swing of things - until you suddenly wonder how long ago you actually went away on a holiday. Maybe it would feel differently if I hosted the festivities at my place.

I imagine any host or hostess of a holiday event - complete with family and guests - never suffers from holiday lag or dislocation. After all, the host is at the epicenter of the holiday. Their life never stops for the holiday. It is all an ongoing part of the hosts' lives. It's the guests, who, upon returning home, need to figure out where they were when they left, and restart their lives. And sometimes, the restarting takes a few days to figure out. It's a bit like the broken sleeping patterns you get after you've flown through several time changes.

The other (and biggest for me) drawback to holiday lag is that it allows far too much space and time for unpleasant thoughts to grab your attention. Perhaps holiday lag is meant to be a character-building time. Me? After all these years, I'm kind of tired of building my character. I'd rather other folks built their characters.

I'll have to think about this hosting business.

Lost M'Cell Phone...Again!

Damn it! That's twice within one year! O.K. it may show up in the oddest place when the pixies decide to return it. And yes, it's not like I had a brain burp and left it at the park, like last time. After seeing it on my counter after charging, my latest cell phone has disappeared from my consciousness - rather like I was abducted by aliens who did all sorts of things before wiping my mind and returning me to planet earth - all within a millisecond (well, o.k., more like 24 hours). Kind of feels like it too. Having been "connected" to the electronic world for some time now, it's rather disconcerting not to be available, or have the world available at the push of a button. Hello, instant gratification. Hard to lose that, too! Like cigarettes....

Actually .... It's tempting to use the abduction theory in conversation to explain much of my past year. Would be a lot more satisfactory to see people's reactions (a straight face is essential) than telling the boring truth of my life. LOL.

Now, as it's major travel time for Thanksgiving, and l'll be one of the travelers, I thought it would be a good idea to stay in touch by getting a TracFone. That way, I can call for help - well, that's the plan. The TracFone was recommended by my sister who swears by it, and uses it to keep track of her kids. It is a simple phone, with basic features (no G2,3 or 4) and you buy your air time as you need it. Inexpensive, too! Honestly, if the pixies decide to keep my phone - I may stick with this new phone. I rather like the new number, and it actually gives me more time and coverage than my proper cell phone. Unless, of course, I become a 24/7 media-dependent, excuse me, a media-connected business woman who needs to stay in touch.

The woman at the store said "Maybe you're not a cell phone person." She may be right. I find it rather cumbersome and annoying to remember to watch out for my cell phone. I believe I am meant to be a telepathic person. Unfortunately, no one can give me printed directions how to use my telepathic talents, yet. I keep trying, but it takes a hell of a lot of effort. Also, it gives me a headache to try. Well - it's either telepathy, or a cellphone implanted directly in my head - so if someone calls me - the number would pop up across my retinas, and all I have to do is tap my ear to answer the call. To make a call, I could tap a tooth, subvocalise a name (i.e. "call Mom") and voila! The call would go thru. To talk - that'd be the usual way. Obviously, I was born way before my "time."

At the very least, I have an inexpensive new toy. I am a definite fan of new toys. I still go into promising toy stores whenever they cross my path. You can get some really cool stuff. Then again, there are the upscale hardware stores where you can get some super cool mini-gadgets - but that's another post.

So, reconnected with the electronic world, I surge back into the flow of life! Or something equally noble. Live long, and call me!

Day After Election Day

This will be brief because, quite frankly, all the voters have simply had it with this year's mid-term elections. And so have I. Why?

Well....I don't know if it was only in the tri-state, New York metropolitan area, but this year's elections seemed to be less about the issues and more about smear tactics. It seems that I have never heard so much, or such relentless negativity broadcast at my eyes and ears - every minute of every day. If it had gone on much longer, I'm almost sure there'd be YouTube videos of candidates "bad" behavior - rather like what happened to Palladino in New York's gubernatiorial race. Few of the political candidates seemed to care to show what they had done or what they planned to do for the populace.

Thank God it's all over. Well, every where there's a clear winner. I know some recounts and lawsuits are being prepared even as I type. This was an extremely ugly campaign time. I'd be amazed if the electorial process didn't lose more voters this year. There was constant blame and shame and attack thrown down ad nauseum. All of us common folk, who were supposed to take arms against one or another candidate - by yesterday - just wanted the whole circus of negativity over and done with. Hopefully, the right people got "in" though Lord knows what it is they're going to do!

Let me not get too much into the amount of money spent on these elections. You'd think it was another Presidential election the way candidates were spending money on both coasts of the United States. It's sickening. In some cases, the amounts equalled the gross national product of some smaller "third world" countries. To think of what good they could have done by contributing that money to the Red Cross, or feeding the hungry in this country, or building low-cost housing or funding alternative energy sources and research, or even establishing medical clinics for the uninsured - it's mind-boggling and tragic.

What's worth that much? Job security? Prestige? Power? And who gives it to them? Are we as voters - that easily led? It all makes me wonder.

Tid Bits

In case you were wondering...

Snow White III
Snow hasn't left our shores yet. And she's really pissed at me. Originally, she was hoping to take a swift current on the early September hurricane winds to help her cross the Atlantic. Alas - I started cleaning out my apartment. Snow hasn't gone anywhere. She said, "I thought better of you after our conversations. Yet here I am, still stuck in the U.S. because you put me on a shelf and forgot all about me! I've had enough of that behavior from others. Why do you think I want to travel? To get off the damn shelf!"

I am deeply sorry for my behavior and have given Snow White my deepest apologies. As long as I get her to the ocean today - I'll be forgiven. So, I am taking her to the beach this afternoon - to launch her on the next leg of her journey. Snow's still hoping to make it across before the winter storms become too strong. Why not fly? Snow explained that getting to the airport is difficult. Also, there's no guarantee she'll even be allowed aboard - for some reason. She'd rather rely on Mother Nature.

My Tree
The young tree, that was planted to fill in where the old Mulberry fell during the March nor'easter, is alive after a long, hot summer. I was out there every day watering it. You'd think I gave birth to it! lol. I think it's grown. It's hard to tell. Like with kids - you see them all the time, so their growth is so gradual it's normal. You don't really see the change unless you leave them for a while. (No, I'm not advocating child abandonment here!) I'm guessing it'll be the same with the tree.

And yes, its leaves changed color. It wasn't dramatic, but kind of cool. The leaves turned yellow from the edges inward - slowly taking over the green. Then they were all yellow. Yesterday, after a day of rain, they turned reddish orange, and then, suddenly, after the winds last night - they've all fallen off! You'd think I'd expect that by now. 'Cept, as with children, it was only "yesterday" it seems, it was planted. I'm very glad it's there.

Well, it's an absolutely gorgeous day out there - 70 degrees, sunny and breezy, and I've got Snow White to launch. TTFN!

P.S. Snow White was launched at 3:30 p.m. yesterday afternoon. She flew through the air with a shout of sheer joy. Last I saw of her, Snow was heading directly for the open sea.
Bon voyage, Snow! May you never be stuck on shelf again!

The Wondrous Hook

Yes, now you're imagining that I'm going to warble on about the philosophy inherent in the evil Captain Hook as pertains to Peter Pan. No such luck! The hook to which I refer is far less lofty, and, in fact, is far more useful. No. I'm not talking about a musical hook, or a crocheting hook (does anyone still do that?) or even a shephard's hook - or is that crook? Anyway.....

Whilst a friend of mine was discovering the bidet in Europe, I was rediscovering the joy of the simple, household hook. Yes. That one. The kind you screw into the wall for the purpose of hanging something from it. I realize that a hook does not remotely compare to the investigative process required by the workings of a bidet by an American citizen newly living abroad. However, the thrill I felt far outweighed - I believe - my friend's trepidation.

Why am I caroling about a hook? Well, being in the throes of tossing my entire apartment, I've been at a loss where to put some things. Installing and using a hook or two in my closet never once crossed my mind. I can only put this perceptual blindness down to being a renter for many years. (Not to mention a Mother who found hooks somewhat vile.)

Ask any one who's done it. Renting can be risky. Especially with regard to the "damage deposit." One hears horror stories of false damage charges, and violent accusations. So, I had become accustomed to only timidly hanging a picture or two on my walls. And closet interiors? They were not to be touched. 'Course, that may have just been my landladies. Truth be told, I have only had wonderful landladies. It was my hang up. :)

But hey, I'm an owner now. (Well, the bank is.) I can put nails in all over my walls if I want. So, now, (happy sigh) I have a hook in my closet to hang a bag. And since you cannot buy just one hook all by itself.... I am in joyful contemplation as to what else I can hang in that space. It was an ephiphany to rediscover the "hook." I may very well put another one up. Or maybe, two.

No. I'm not in Europe, nor am I warily approaching a bidet. However, I can move on now. I have hooks!

I've Got Bumper Stickers Now - Gasp!

It's all a result of this excavating I've been doing. I unearthed two bumper stickers I'd bought several years ago. I had never applied them to my car bumper because of a number of "old" parental judgments about aforesaid stickers. Yes, weird, I know. It's just that those parental judgments can suddenly pop up out of pure, thin air, and blindside me into frozen indecision over the bizarrest (sp?), and smallest of things. Which is probably why I think I kept them in various piles of papers over the years, only to find them once again.

Well, today, I decided to ignore those old messages of "I would never put one on my car. It devalues the car!" "It's really rather tacky. Only people with no taste would put one on their bumper." "You can get into trouble if someone doesn't agree with you." And implied..."Only low class people have bumper stickers on their cars." So, our family cars (and my car) have remained bumper sticker free my entire life. Today, I decided that I would stand up, take fate into my own hands and put those bumper stickers on my car. Hallelujah!

'Course the moment I did, I realized that no one in my condominium parking lot has a bumper sticker. Nor apparently, if you look, do any other cars driving in my town. Or even on the Interstate for the 4 exits that I drove today. Oh, dear. Suddenly, I was feeling very exposed. Talk about putting yourself out there.... Now, it's too late to change my mind. According to legend, once on, you can never remove a sticker from your bumper. So - I've decided to claim them with all the bravado I can muster.

Actually, I do like what they say. Hopefully, they will be thought provoking. One, I hope will gently change people's behaviors. What are these paragons of bumper sticker wisdom???

The first - "Visualize Using Your Turn Signals" (with arrows) - this is a pet peeve of mine, and usually perpetrated by non-hands free cell phone users. The joke is that quite likely "they" are already visualizing without using the signals. :)

The second - "Equal Rights Are Not Special Rights" - this came out (I believe) during the time of the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA). I think it applies to many civil rights issues of our time. Take your pick.

So far, my world has not ended. Mind you, I only applied these stickers early this afternoon. I'm kind of curious to see if they receive any reaction at all.

Why write a post about my bumper stickers? Because putting them on my car felt surprisingly risky. Who knew?

Excavating

About two months ago or so, I decided that I needed to stir up the energy in my life to get moving again after my summer "hiatus." In the principles of feng shui, by de-cluttering your home, and moving the furniture about into hopefully beneficial arrangements, you can actually improve your circumstances. So, with renewed resolve and energy, I started. It's still going on.

I mistakenly thought the whole process might take a couple of weeks to simply move around the big pieces of furniture and, voila! Not so simple. All of a sudden, you wonder, will it all fit that way? Can I reduce two bookcases into one? Good grief! How many piles of paper do I have on the floor - not to mention, books? And they all have to be gone through because there could be something important "in there."

So, what was supposed to be a simple re-arrangement of the great room in my apartment has, instead, become an interesting and challenging undertaking. Why challenging? Oh - attachments to the past, attachments to that funky looking stick I picked up one day, the suspicion that an important bill or two has been buried "in there" somewhere. And, man! Let's get rid of this. Wait a minute....I might need it. O.K. Where can I put it? Oh, but father gave that to me when I was 12. And so on!

I've decided the whole process is rather like dieting. Once you get past the decision to "do," then, you start. And it's not happening as fast as you thought it would. In fact, moving something sometimes creates more problems, and the resolutions take two or more days to solve. I've been doing things in surges. Once I figured out where the main pieces would go - this invoved about a week of staring into space while I moved stuff around my mind - the actual moving only took an intense, and exhausting, day. (I also forgot about the necessary physical recuperation time!) Then, with the next step in mind, I'd move on. Onto going through all my books, cds and dvds to see what I could give the library as a donation. And the clothes (still in process).

And just like dieting, I've found, you have your plateaus. You're up and running with your new way of eating, and after a nice drop of 5 pounds or so, you stay there - day after day, even week after week. Well, after accomplishing my goals of reducing my books, clearing out the storage, getting bookcases to Goodwill, books to the library, clearing out the closet, cleaning out storage drawers, etc., small problem. Every horizontal surface is covered. And I do mean covered. You can barely see a surface anywhere - including my couch.

I am a feng shui disaster!! I am overwhelmed with stuff. Mind you, at least I can see it now. Also, there are treasures I've found. For instance, I rediscovered a poem I wrote years ago. And I really like it. I'm thrilled I kept it. I'm even more thrilled I found it. The poem will probably show up in a post in the near future, as it is Fall, and I wrote it at the change of season.

The decision has been made. This "plateau" must end! Like a diet, I must return to my quest. So this week, I am determined to uncover at least three horizontal surfaces. They may be small, but nonetheless, the contents potentially complex. The treasures I hopefully find will make it fun. I'm planning on being done by Halloween. Onwards, and upwards!

Sunday Paper

Last Sunday I had awakened early and, unusually for me, was out and about in the morning running errands. As I'm driving along one of my favorites routes - because the trees are rather lovely - I passed a property that has always held my curiosity. It's a nice property, fronted by an old stone wall - easily 1/2 an acre in size with a small, one-storied house up a gently rising driveway with what looks like a barn over on the side - and main benefit? It faces south with a view over the municipal golf course. Its grounds are decently maintained and the grass mown. Why my curiosity? Because I have never ever seen anyone there. Not in the five years I've been driving by.

As I came by the driveway last Sunday, movement caught my eye. There was an elderly woman in her nightgown with her long white hair in an unbrushed tangle flowing about her head. She was slowly, slowly making her way down her driveway with fixed purpose. In her hands was one of those ugly, cheap looking metal walkers. The thin arms would tense. Up, shuffle forward a few inches, plant the frame. Begin again. At the end of her journey, there was a Sunday paper in its tell-tale plastic bundle waiting to be picked up. The woman appeared frail, and her back was was bent into an angle so sharp it made me wince.

Down the driveway she steadily came heading for that paper. I thought "it must take her a good 1/2 hour or more to get the paper! Oy." I couldn't even figure out how she was planning on picking up said paper.

Mind you, all these thoughts and impressions are whipping through my mind faster than light. Somehow - in the space of my driving by - there was more than enough time "in there" for me to worry about the woman. To worry about her struggle with her physical age. Does she have enough food to eat? Is she living there all alone? Does anyone care about her? There was even enough time for me to wonder if I could - in the practical sense - do anything for her. I briefly considered stopping to get her paper for her - but then, I decided 'no' - maybe this was her one outing a week, and she might not appreciate it. I wondered if she felt abandoned by the world. I wondered if she felt lonely.

As I passed the end of the stone wall at the driveway's edge, I finally could see clearly up the driveway to the woman coming down. And there, one of my worried questions was answered. She was not alone. She had a companion.

Strolling along, looking as bright as a new penny with tail straight up, attention focused on the woman, was a young tortiseshell-colored cat. The cat's posture seemed to suggest that getting the paper was a grand adventure, and it wouldn't want to be anywhere else. The cat carefully paced the woman - step for step - down the driveway - never ahead or behind. I swear that cat was chaperoning the woman down to her paper. It was a wonderful sight.

Mind you.... Every time I've passed by that quiet house this week - the questions come back. And I worry. But you can't look after everyone. Can you???
To comfort myself, I think of the cat.

Breath Less

Hello all. Yes, I'm alive and somewhat kicking. My long absence has been due in part to a mystery illness that robbed me of energy, appetite and yes, breath for most of July and August.

It's amazing how much we take breathing for granted until we can't. I hear a few "duhs" coming my way. Seriously, assuming you are not on your deathbed, not allergic to something and not ill, breathing is automatic. You just do it. Just like Nike. But then, something creeps in, and when you go to take a breath - you can't. Your chest and lungs seemingly refuse to expand and they hurt. Everything else is fine - your sinuses, no cold, getting enough sleep, no sore throat and no icky stuff coming out of your nose. So I toddled off to see my doctor.

Let me pause here for a moment and say that I really didn't mind missing the hottest summer on record in my region. I was kind of grateful I had an excuse to stay away from the 90 and 100 degree temperatures. July, in our neck of the woods, had 28 days that were over 90 degrees. For a temperate creature like myself - biologically speaking - it was brutal! I would also like to bow down and salute the inventor of air conditioning and Edison or Tesla for electricity. Without my noble air conditioning units going almost 24/7, I sincerely believe my goose would have been cooked. I could easily have been one of those passing statistics of heat-related death. No. Thanks to modern technology I survived July and early August. The only injury was to my wallet, and it was a price I was all too happy to pay.

So, my doctor, at the end of June, having no external confirmation that anything was wrong, basically blew me off and told me to use my nasal spray. He happily ignored that fact that nothing he'd done was helping me breathe better. He refused to even consider a course of antibiotics. I was so appalled at his cavalier behavior that I didn't go back when it got so much worse. Suffice it to say, for about a week and a half in mid-summer, I was almost completely undone. My days consisted of sitting, trying to breathe sipping the air, and trying not to move much at all, because it would take too much energy. My nights were sweat-filled ones where sleep was a challenge. On the bright side, (the body is wonderful how it manages my attention) my old back injury didn't hurt at all. Hallelujah! If that had been in the mix, I probably wouldn't have lasted.

As it was, I made it through. Thankfully, I'm pretty robust. Now.... All I can say is I learned this summer that I really need to rely on myself for my health - not my doctor. AND, if my doctor blows me off, then I need to go out and find someone who'll take the time to listen to me. (Turns out the antibiotics he refused to give me - were what put my problem to bed. My dentist did a procedure on me at the end of August, and prescribed the usual 5-day amoxicillin as a preventative. I felt like a million bucks afterwards!) Course, in the beginning of the summer, I had absolutely no energy to pursue that course. I learned, too, that it's critical to have someone around who cares about your health too. I am now looking for possible candidates. :)

All in all, my breath-less summer was an interesting experience. One, which I hope I will never repeat. Talk about career change interruptus! "What did you do this past summer?" "Oh, I worked on breathing..."

That said, and assuming that I am now fully recovered, I plan on posting something here with a higher frequency than once a month! Hope you - all of you - are all well and thriving.

I've Been Erased by AT&T!

I was surprised how much of a shock it really was. Let me explain. For most of my life I have been a customer of AT&T or one of their many subsidiaries. Mind you, there weren't that many other telephone companies out there. So, by default, unless you were bound and determined to communicate some other way - you were handled by AT&T - in the main. As such, You could count on, without fail, that "the" telephone company would handle getting you a new paper residential telephone directory and yellow pages to you in a plastic bag, if you lived in a house, or, as in the case of my building, there's just a honking great pile in the lobby with the annual delivery. This was an event that marked the years. A new telephone directory was like someone pushed the "refresh" button, and you got the new directory with all the new community changes in your hands.

O.K., O.K. A paper directory is a dinosaur for many people. However, it can actually be more convenient to whip out the book to look up a phone number or address - than having to boot up the computer or locate your multi-tasking phone. It's recycleable, usually stays in the same place, and it gives its listings a feeling of permanence simply by the weight that rests in your hands. There have been pretenders and competitors to the paper telephone directory throne over the years. Usually, without fail, the AT&T directory listed the latest information. You could count on them to be super efficient. The throne pretenders were usually working off of old information.

Well, with all the so-called progress in the electronic media market in the last few years. Especially after 9/11/01 knocked out our usual form of broadcast media for television - telephone companies decided to get into the computer and television market and, the cable providers followed suit. Or vica versa. At any rate, many of us have been forced to purchase these bundled services if we want to a) stay in touch by talking; b) watch the latest television shows or Pay-Per-View packages (like in hotels for blue movies!); and c) surf, research, etc. the internet, text the entire world or expose one's pecadillos for the entire electronic world to see - in the name of social networking. You no longer can have a simple land line to call folks or 911. You no longer can have the basic broadcast channels on your tv. And if you want a connection to the internet - then you have to have one that handles everything.

These improvements are all market driven. They've brought a level of communication available to the general public to unprecedented heights. It's wonderful. It can also cost you and arm-and-a-leg. We are stuck with all these new parameters.

To get back to the erasure of me....because AT&T wanted to charge a bundle of money for their bundle. I found I could keep basic television, and buy the rest of cable's bundle for about $25 less per month. This is very important as I am currently incomeless and rather media driven! So, I switched my telephone and internet to cable. I got a brand new telephone number. Hallelujah! My old one belonged to a deadbeat, and after 5 years, I was still getting collection agency calls. The new number with cable, yes, it did belong to someone else, but fortunately, I've only received two calls for its former owner.

So - now that I have a new telephone number from my cable company, my friends and family are unable to look up my current telephone on the internet (which can be a blessing). But what is most heinous (sp?) to me, is that AT&T has erased me from their new 2010 telephone directory. It made me feel like I was living in the Twilight Zone, or that a science-fiction novel had come to life on me! On the one hand, anything you put on the internet is there for all eternity. But to go to an old friend - my new annual telephone book - and find that I no longer exist, is rather unnerving. In the past, I believe, even if you weren't a direct customer, you and your listing showed up in the phone book. No more! If you are not a customer, you are dead to them!

The competitor's phone book still has me and my old phone number. And my cable company? They don't bother with a telephone directory. 'Course it's now becoming apparent - if you call a number not handled by your telephone company - you will probably be told that "there is no such number." I guess the various telephone providers don't talk to each other. It doesn't work in the spirit of economic competition. Mind you, it would be extremely beneficial in a emergency. Let's hope we don't have one.

Ooops! Forgot Ireland

Well, not really. It's just that the English portion of the post went on a bit. Yes, I cheerfully admit to that. I had a ball in the land of my birth.

O.K. Ireland. Well, I was at a conference there just outside of Dublin, so I mainly saw the hotel, the shopping centre next door and the airport. Tho' I must say the sky is a huge presence there. Perhaps it is because the countryside around Dublin is not as intensely developed as U.S. suburbs. Also, the reality of "skyscraper" seems to be non-existent there - thank goodness. The sky is huge and lovely with the sun and clouds. You really get a feel for the term "ever changing." I can also understand why painters of yore would want to capture the sky on their canvas. Magnificent! Though, on cloudy and rainy days - you don't really want that much sky hanging over you. It can get rather over whelming. The gift? When the sun comes out after days of rain - the colors of the countryside can knock you sideways. The people are rather fabulous, too!

While in Ireland I did, however, have the opportunity to visit Glendalough (Gaelic for "Valley of the Two Lakes"). My guide book calls it "the epitome of rugged and romantic Ireland." And on a sunny afternoon such as we had, it truly was. It's prime attraction are the remains of the monastic city (being notoriously uneducated in religious whatnots -- who knew?) which was built by disciples of St. Kevin, a single monk who had originally come to the area (according to the guidebook) for peace and quiet. Don't you love it?

In it's heyday, Glendalough was home to one of the largest monastic cities in Ireland. The monastery lasted for four centuries from the 9th to the 12 century. After surviving several Viking raids (being an economic gem), the English forces from Dublin apparently finished the monastic city off in the 1300s - tho' I can't remember if any reason was given. There's a fascinating graveyard (amazingly still in use!); a round tower built in the 10th century with its front door 20 feet off the ground; the remains of the original monastic gate: and several churches, built during various centuries, are still there in this deep valley surrounded by forest. The Visitor's Center has a fabulous video presentation which give you a far better appreciation for what you are seeing, before you see it. The whole area is best described by my guidebook as a "deeply tranquil and spiritual place." It truly is. It is also a visual feast for the eyes. I very much enjoyed being introduced to this intriguing place.

So, if you're ever traveling on Ireland's eastern side, I highly recommend this magical valley to you. Bring your camera. You'll want to bring a bit of the mystery home.

It's Lovely To Go Away...

It really is. Especially when you have a great time! The immediate benefits are obvious: change of pace and scenery, someone else (if you're lucky) does the cooking, the chance to meet any number of interesting people, the challenges of dealing with another culture, and hopefully, a new way of seeing the world - at least for the length of your stay. And, if you're really fortunate, you may get a new perspective on the life you've left behind. An old saying in our family is "A change is as good as a rest." Then again, I suppose it depends on the changes.

For me, traveling to the United Kingdom last month did not challenge me as much as going to a county where I have no history and no knowledge of the language. However, it was wonderful simply to get away from my life for a while. First, in England, I stayed with some cousins for about 5 days whom I hadn't seen in 14 years. My second week was spent in Ireland. The weather in England was perfectly lovely with one day of rain (which gave me a chance to recover from jet lag). In Ireland, it rained. A LOT! That's why it's so green. The weather was also deliciously cool, which viewed now from the perspective of the hottest summer on record, made it even more lovely in retrospect. I am a child of more temperate climes, specifically the U.K. and the Pacific Northwest of the U.S. I am not in any way, shape or form structured for very hot and humid climates .... or icy, windblown frozen tundras, either, for that matter!

It may not have changed the world, but my trip last month was immensely satisfying. My cousins are extraordinarily generous hosts, especially when one takes into account that their kitchen was completely torn up - so meals were created in the downstairs hallway on a two-burner propane stove. microwave and a refrigerator that dominated the proceedings - along with a breakfront which provided the dishes. Funnily enough, even the drawers on the breakfront were being refurbished every other day, so we'd have to hunt for where we'd put the utensils or the tea.

My hosts are quite extraordinary. They did everything in their power to ensure that my 5 and one-half days with them were fun, fascinating and interesting. They deserve an award for meeting the challenge of entertaining a guest whilst their downstairs was compromised. In fact, most of my vivid memories from the few times I've visited England, usually revolve around these cousins, and the excursions they planned for me. John is a retired lawyer with a passion for family genealogy. Sue restored works of art, especially paintings; her knowledge is encyclopedic and her enthusiasm for new experiences unbound. You would be hard-pressed to find a better guide to the National Gallery (or any gallery, I would bet). Both Sue and John love to travel, explore and try new things. I suspect that without their strong sense of duty and their love for their family (who've all left the nest) - not to mention their grandchildren! - they'd love nothing more than to hit the road, and not look back.

'Course their geographical location helped a great deal. They live in the country town of Marlborough, Wiltshire - smack dab in the middle of Salisbury Plain in the middle of England's countryside. The significance? Oh, just a few old places like Stonehenge, Silbury Hill, Kennet Long Barrow and Avebury are found on the Salisbury Plain. Not to mention lovely country walks, a canal system, the White Horses, Salisbury Cathedral and stunning vistas that stretch the eye for miles. (Thanks for the expression, John.)

Not too far away in one direction, is Jane Austen's City of Bath which was built over a number of hills in a golden stone. This is a beautiful sight from the right viewpoint. Sue even managed to squeeze in a day trip to London for me. This included a trip down the Thames to Greenwich passing the London "Eye" and the Tower of London - where we were saluted with a 57-gun salute in honor of each year the Queen has been on the throne! Afterwards, we did a quick turn around the National Gallery. Our highlight was to see a man walk by in a black suit while wearing a bowler hat! Bowler hats are NOT seen these days. They are considered part of London's past. Not to mention seeing a black suit in high summer. Very cool. And, yes, Sue. Definitely surreal.

Now - Throw in a Russian Orthodox Men's Choir performance; a picnic dinner out on the Gallops by the side of the old coach road to Swindon while the sun went down; intelligent and perceptive conversation; climbing Martin's Sel (sp?) with Ramage, and seeing an old prop plane flying over the checkerboard of fields looking like something from the last century; climbing the steps of St. Peter's church tower to the top, and viewing Marlborough from above; shooting through Paddington Station after navigating the Underground; breathing that sweet country air; bombing through the tiny country lanes by car; trying to identify my pence from cents; the lovely enclosed gardens; leaning up against the stones at Avebury; having the executive tour of The Merchant's House; and finally, looking down and across a field to see Stonehenge looking majestic and inimitably itself!

Yes. It is truly amazing what you can do in five and one half days. My cousins have definitely set the bar incredibly high for any future hosts. And I am extremely grateful for all the wonderful experiences and memories they have gifted me.

So, I highly recommend your getting away from your life for a wee while. It can really refresh one's soul.

Mercury, Your Friendly Deadly Toxin and You!

I've been trying to think how to start this post with enough impact to startle anyone who reads this. So far, I haven't really come up with anything that's remotely satisfying. Truthfully, to do the matter academic justice, I could probably research Mercury and its household uses and dangers for months. I would probably end up with a result better suited to submitting a doctorate thesis than writing a blog post.

It just bugs the hell out of me that the generic and relatively inexpensive energy saver promoted (touted) to a busy, distracted public as the answer to their high electricity bills is ... the fluorescent light bulb. Fluorescent light bulbs are being recommended to every household (and business) as the one, the only, long-lasting, energy saving, cost effective replacement to the old incandescent light bulbs. (If anyone else has found an alternative, it's been kept very quiet.) The manufacturers and marketers carefully avoid mentioning some of the drawbacks associated with the light that is emitted by fluorescent lights: a) visusally, the light is very cold in appearance; b) the light flickers just enough to cause distress to anyone with Asperger's Syndrome or Autism; and c) can contribute to epileptic seizures in some sensitive people.

However, in my mind, what tops all those cautions, is the simple fact that each fluorescent light bulb or fluorescent tube contains Mercury. Mercury is a known deadly toxin. Mercury poisoning, when not fatal, contributes to a slew of physical problems including neurological damage. Ironically, it has also been considered as a contributing factor to Autism.

Once Mercury gets into an enviroment, it doesn't go away easily. So. Just think about it. All the electric companies are promoting the fact that you need to bring this deadly toxin into every room in your home. Go ahead. Light your world with a deadly poison. Do the cost benefits outweigh the health concerns? Maybe so. I'm not convinced. As long as the bulbs are not broken, there's absolutely no risk to your health. The problem arises in breaking a bulb or in disposing of it.

Wikipedia notes, "When broken indoors, bulbs may emit sufficient Mercury vapor to present health concerns, and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency recommends evacuating and airing out a room for at least 15 minutes after breaking a fluorescent light bulb." That's lovely. Honestly, how many people at home are going to take the time to leave, and air out a room where a bulb's been broken? I'd wager, not too many.

And as far as properly disposing of fluorescent bulbs so the Mercury doesn't doesn't enter the environment - most communities have no easy way to handle this. Like batteries, wouldn't you want to just toss the dead fluorescent bulb into the household trash? This is far more likely to happen. So the Mercury in your dead fluorescent bulbs - as the Mercury in any batteries you may have tossed on occasion into your trash - are all ending up where ever all our office and household garbage goes - and leaches out into the air and soil.

There are so many ramifications here that could be developed on so many products marketed to consumers. But for now, and this blog post, my concern is the Mercury - the toxin - contained in fluorescent light bulbs. My question to you is simple....

Do you really want to bring a deadly poison into your home to save a few dollars?

Writing Your Story

A teacher recently said that it is a really good idea to write your personal story. He went on to say that it was a great way to provide perspective on your life. To write your very own story of your time on this planet, is a grand reminder to you of where you’ve come from, and what you’ve done. You will essentially be “witnessing” your self, and your life. Your story is (or can be) a confirmation of who you have been up until now.

Some would say that the practice of writing one’s life is terribly self-indulgent. “They” would say that “we,” as a generation (and by generation, I’m including everyone alive today), are too self-involved as it is! True, there seem to be legions of unfortunates who are incapable of showing any awareness or concern for any one or any thing past the physical limits of their own bodies. On the other hand, there are almost an equal number of people who are so careful to publically show that they are utterly selfless in every thought, word and deed that they tend to pay no attention to the consequences of their own actions. Further, they seem to feel as though their very practiced selflessness excludes them from all blame or responsibility. Then, of course, there are the select few, such as myself, who are perfect in every way. [Now, if you believe that last statement, I have some lovely real estate you may wish to buy along the Gulf Coast ….or in the Nevada desert (our supposedly post 2012 western continental United States coastline) – with water views.]

There is also something rather seductive in writing about your own life. Actually, it all boils down to self judgment. If you can withhold the judgment and simply relate the facts, you’ll have it done. ‘Course, for me, withholding judgment upon myself is nigh to impossible. I can barely get through a line sometimes without thinking: “Is that too much?,” or “Who died and made you use million dollar words?,” or “How can you say he was being bitchy? Maybe he had gas and was only trying (poorly) to be polite?” Honestly, with this soundtrack running through the back of my mind, it’s a miracle I write much of anything. Every time I click the “Post” button, there’s a small leap of faith that what I’ve written even makes sense.

So back to writing one’s own life….where to start? at one’s moment of birth? Much has been written and speculated upon about the ensuing trauma caused by labor, the short trip down the birth canal and the smack on the bum immediately there following (or the paddling pool of warm water). Thanks to the media, we (who are not biological mothers) are all somewhat familiar with the physical and emotional challenges to the mother before, during and after the birth which could then impact the child’s (your) upbringing! To think of all that drama removed by the growing use of the Caesarean method. Just think of the stories lost!

Or shall one start at the point of conception? The possibilities are almost endless as to the circumstances surrounding the inevitable meeting of sperm and egg. Those circumstances would be endlessly diverting to a writer, such as myself, as there are so many opportunities for variety and creativity, whereas the act of birth generally tends to be rather straightforward. Oh, I‘m not saying birth is always without complication. It is simply that we can all conceive of the many things involved in a child’s birth. However, on the occasion of conception – before, during and after – (and a little imagination), the possibilities of who, what, where, how and when are simply endless! Not to mention – tempting.

Oy. This writing of one’s life may prove to be too challenging for me. It would probably serve me a great deal better to simply stick with the facts. And where the documentation doesn’t exist, the family members involved are dead, or the things that no one’s really ever been able to explain to me – shall just have to remain a mystery. Or I can make up. Okay, here goes….

“It was after the War [you pick which one] when from a great height, my father espied my mother flying across the fields.” [Now you fill in the rest!]

Snow White II

We’ve had a discussion, and Snow White is ready to continue her travels. While I was away visiting family in the U.K. she really relaxed – hit the beach, slept in, did a little gardening, watched a bunch of TV and got caught up with the news. Not that there was much of anything that was new, she said, but that it was nice to catch up with the various talking heads whom she thought of as old friends. She was also glad to see her old studio was still around, tho’ she misses the celluloid days of yore. The Dwarves were not mentioned.

Watching the evening news, however, Snow White found the information of the oil problem in the Gulf of Mexico very concerning. She kept asking me why they kept calling it the “oil spill.” “A spill,” she clarified, “happens when something spills out of a container, not up out of the ground!” She was quite indignant. Apparently, having spent so much time with her head in the sand, Snow has had many heart-to-heart talks with Gaia. Snow said that Gaia was really pissed with the way her resources were being used and abused. So this “spill,” is 63 plus days of oil being furiously pumped out into the Gulf by a very cross Gaia. The oil company may be able to relieve the pressure, but Snow warns that will not be the end of it. She said, echoing a very old television advertisement, “It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature!” Apparently Mom Nature has a few tricks up her sleeves that we haven’t seen yet!

Concerned that her mode of transportation will be compromised, and that she might get her gown covered in oily residue, Snow White is planning on departing these shores this week. She’s anxious to get ahead of the worst of the oil plumes before they head up the East Coast of the United States. Snow is heading off on the next leg of her journey ferried by the North American current of the Gulf Stream. She has a yen to see Europe tho’ she understands that the Gulf Stream actually splits and heads both for Norway and the Canary Islands. When I mentioned that Europe wasn’t a guarantee, Snow simply shrugged and said that the Canary Islands would be lovely as they have many beaches upon which to land. Norway would be more problematical with its cliffs and deep fjords. Snow was very sanguine about it all, and mentioned that should she be heading for Norway, she's considering stopping briefly in Scotland as she's curious about Haggis.

I’ll let you know when she goes. We need to do her roots with some dye and give her the black back, and a couple of very minor repairs to her chemise. Snow said that whenever she goes traveling, she likes to look her best!

Still Here

Yes indeedy, I am still here. Inspiration just hasn't decided to peek in recently. I have high hopes for the new moon on Thursday evening. A quick update -

Snow White is still with me. She has decided to wait a bit longer until Summer decides to show itself in June. I'm very glad to have her company and perky presence in these interesting times. I will let you know about her send off.

I'm also happy to report that I have a new tree. I offered to buy one, but it turned out it was in the complex's budget. Yay! The new tree is quite young with only a 3 inch trunk, but it seems strong and steady. It's also about a third of the height of the one I lost, but I'm told it's a quick growing maple. So. With a bit of luck, it will reach a respectable height (i.e. be easily visible outside my window without my having to lean out to look at it) before they cart me away or I move first. lol. I'm also told that this maple will have stunning red foliage in October - so now, ironically, I'm looking foward to the Autumn!

Happily, after the new maple went in, I found out that my downstairs neighbor had also become attached to the old tree and view. Vindicated! Tho' I did wonder why the landscapers put the tree in before they took the fallen stump out and repaired the wall. The ways of my Property Manager remains a bit of a mystery. Well, they were fun to watch for the ensuing two days! I'm always glad for some entertainment.

And as for whimsy? It seems to have been hiding, tho' I am keeping my eye out for more. Cheers!

Shall I Run Away?

Too experienced, and too expensive to hire, and far too young to go on Social Security. That’s me. Is that a euphemism or a fact? Companies are “gun shy” with the economy. They only want to move on sure things and/or people, especially those that fit in a box. I’ve been told that after one year, I’m no longer changing my career. No. I’m now re-entering the workforce, as though I’d taken time off to raise kids. I need more skills! I need certification! It’s extremely frustrating.

I’m half-thinking of running away. Let the bank handle the mortgage, and just run away for a little while. By getting out of the area that I’ve lived in for virtually my whole life, I might get a new perspective. I could find out what interests me, or for what and whom I need to be grateful, or I could find out … nothing. I’d much rather think it would be a new beginning.

You see. The fact of the matter is, if I left tomorrow, very few people would really miss me much at all. They live their lives. And I really haven’t. I’ve pretended, and I’ve survived my life so far. I worry about it, and at it. Live it? I think I’d like to, but I honestly find it hard to imagine what it could be like – in a good way. In a bad way, I can come up with way too many scenarios!

In my career search the questions keep coming up: what do you love? What inspires you? What do you want to do? Replace all those “what”s with a “who,” and the answers are the same. There are some folks that I really depend on to keep me going. One, I’ve depended on for years. And bless her heart, she still takes my calls.

I keep thinking…. maybe a change of place, a change of circumstances and a change of people,… and maybe, just maybe, it would kick me into gear. Of course, my head would be coming with me, so I’m not at all sure that’s the right plan! Lol.

No wonder people make themselves sick, and then, die. It takes the matter right out of their hands! I used to live that way. I’m not doing that any more. So now, I’ve got to come up with an alternate plan. Running away is only one.

Bread Line NYC 2010

Yesterday, when I saw the great mass of people lined up waiting to go where I was going, I blurted, “Good Grief! It looks just like a bread line!” A woman in line shouted back at me, “That’s because it is!” Thankfully, it wasn’t the Great Depression kind of bread line. Food was not being given out. The bread that caused people to show up was money. This massive grouping of humanity was caused by a simple job fair. O.K. It had been advertised to the entire metropolitan area. However, it was, still, simply, a job fair.

I had gone because my career counselor thought it would be good for me. The excursion’s purpose was to help push my own job search into high gear. She wanted me to see what was on offer, who were the companies, ask questions, find out what kind of skills/people companies wanted to hire, and finally, to see how people dressed and what they said. The afternoon was fascinating on several levels. Why? Largely, because of the parallels I drew to the Great Depression. It was also rather a fiasco, but I’ll get to that later.

It’s a different time, different people from that America in the 1930s. Why am I calling this line leading to the job fair a bread line? Because, there were startling similarities. Also, there were major differences that emphasized the cultural changes which have occurred in the past 50 years. The Great Depression was a time of great economic deprivation, and of the Dust Bowl that forced a migration of thousands of people. (Today, it would be millions – except there’s really no where to go.) The whole country lived off of its newsmakers. Not so different from today.

Unlike the old bread lines, nothing was offered freely except admission, yesterday. Whatever you gained, you had to earn. However, before you got to the action, you had to wait. It took a good 10 minutes for me to find the end. The line stretched from the entrance of Madison Square Garden, to the corner of 7th and 31st; turned the corner, going all the way to 8th Avenue; and then, stretched back almost all the way to 33rd Street where I got on the line. That was a little after 2 p.m. Luckily, it was a beautiful Spring day. I got through the line to the job fair doors at 4:15 p.m. somewhat dehydrated, and vaguely delirious! Yes, two hours later.

The job fair was jammed. There were more, very long lines inside! The U.S. Census was there, along with US armed force recruiters looking for cannon fodder. Most of the names were business schools or employment agencies. The actual number and caliber of jobs were small and low level. The fair was held in a concrete-floored room with all the charm of a public toilet. They also had one of those, too, thank goodness!

After such a long wait, the fair was a disappointment. It was also very depressing. The sheer number of people looking for work was a sobering reminder, how truly recessed our economy is. When you are alone, you only see your own struggle. It’s rare to see the sheer number of other people who are “out there” and looking – just like you.

The similar parallels to the bread line are simple. First, there’s the obvious - a huge line of people waiting on a sidewalk to get in the door for “bread.” Next, most people in line refused to make eye contact with anyone, almost as though they were ashamed to be in this line. Third, all the people were eerily silent. There was almost no talking between folks. Fourth, everyone was amazingly patient. It became an endurance test of standing, and waiting. It’s not just the strong who survive. It’s those with the best bladders! And yes, we actually shuffled. It’s impossible not to when you’re in a line. And, in the end, it just wasn’t fun.

The differences between lines from the 1930s to 2010, were mainly cultural. First, because it was a job fair, everyone was very well dressed and groomed. We were a good looking bunch! Next, there were men and women. Third, because the event was co-sponsored by AARP, the age range was extremely broad. Fourth, there was a mix of races which in the 1930s would be unimaginable. And, in the end, when the silence got to be too much, most people hauled out their phones. However, most conversations were short and abrupt. No one wanted to be there.

I sincerely hope I do not go to another job fair. The effort really outweighs the reward! Not only standing in line, but also the time and cost of just getting to the job fair. A gentleman in the line behind me, said he’d been to one at Giant’s Stadium, where there were so many people – there was no parking. So, he left.

I’ve decided to use the power of positive thinking. The economy has turned around. More and more jobs will be created as the days go by. The strategies that do not work will be abandoned. And the job fair will become extinct. All my co-job fair attendees will soon be working in their desired fields, and getting the wages they deserve.

There’s such a thing as repeating the past. I’d rather not! Nor do I wish it on anyone else!

There Was A Tree .... There.

A lot of people in the northeastern United States – well, those who aren’t flooded out of their houses – are experiencing the above phenomenon after the most recent nor’easter. There was a tree there. In some cases, it’s the plural. And. Well…..They’re just not there anymore.

It’s a very strange feeling when you lose a grown tree. It’s like a visible piece of your world has disappeared by magic. Irrationally, it just doesn’t seem to matter that you know exactly how it came down. Or that its down fall was due to a soaked ground and a massive wind. Not having the tree where it’s always been, is very strange. The missing tree really leaves a gap in your world. You can feel rather exposed. I know I do.

In my case, the tree was a major psychological buffer between my apartment and the harsh condominium lights from the building on the other side of my neighbor’s lawn. Especially in the summer with its full foliage, I could pretend the other condominium wasn’t there so much. Since being unemployed, my tree had become a steady companion while I did my morning writing. I’d watch the sunrise light up its branches. I'd watch the birds coming and going, and squirrels chasing each other all over it. When the mulberrys were ripe, it was fun to watch the squirrels fighting each other and all manner of birds for branch space, barely hanging on.

Now, I wonder if “they” can see me in my apartment at night, or early in the morning. (This is assuming, of course, that "they" care!) I find myself making sure the blind is down more often now in my living room. It’s not that I’m doing anything remotely interesting. However, I do spend a lot of time in there. Talk about self-conscious. Oy. And, too, any time, I glance through the window, I’m startled by the tree’s absence. The view seems much harsher.

Needless to say, one of my priorities, aside from getting a livelihood, is to have a new tree put in! I’ve even offered to pay for part of one, so that something more than a tiny sapling will be purchased. Silly? Perhaps. Though I think of it more as an investment in my perceived privacy and feeling of security – not to mention, my early morning entertainment!

Census 2010 - What's Wrong With This Picture?

Have you received your 2010 Census form yet? After a bevy of reminders on the news, public advertisements on television (on heaven knows how many channels) and radio, and then, a mailed notice to your address saying “Hey! Your 2010 Census form is coming!” I sincerely hope you have. I suspect all this brouhaha has cost us all another billion dollars or so. You’d think it was the second coming of a Messiah.

So then, you open it up. What’s the big deal here? There are only about 10 questions all told. O.K. I understand “they” need the numbers for an allocation of political state representatives country wide, and “government funds for highways, schools, health facilities and many other programs you and your neighbors need.” Cool. However… Would you please tell me why it’s any of the government’s business to know our marital status? The IRS already has those figures. What exactly does that serve here?

Now. Here’s my major complaint causing me to blog about the 2010 Census:

Why on earth is it important for the government to know our racial makeup?????? Good Grief! This smacks of blatant racial profiling. For the disbursement of government funds? That only makes it much worse. Paranoia? Perhaps that’s it. The government wants to identify communities of one predominant racial type. That way, should the gov’t get nervous – all those folks of one racial type can be “easily” rounded up, and held in modern-day internment camps (or less politely, concentration camps). I am appalled that here in the 21st century, our government is apparently going to base a lot of its decisions upon the racial makeup of neighborhoods, communities, cities and states. If this isn’t racial profiling, it’s damn close!

And hey – writing as a “white person” – all whites are not the same! Why only one category for whites????? For instance, I’m an Anglo Saxon white person with a genetic makeup from at least 5 countries. Is that the same as an Eastern European white person with a genetic makeup of 5 other countries? Or is the cultural background unimportant?

It’s all a matter of perception. Why our government needs to know what color its populace is - is beyond me. Is this a hangover from the early history of this country when it was solely run by rich white males? Are their descendents still worried about “other” folks taking away their power – both economic and political? If so, that might explain why they want to know how many people are male vs. female. Maybe they should ask how many people identify as neither gender, or both, or something entirely new. No. That might prove to be too worrisome.

To review the main 2010 Census questions: Age – o.k. Location – Great. Number of children vs. adults – Great. Gender – pushing it. Marital Status – Why? Looking for a date? Racial Makeup – Completely unacceptable. As I understand it – they need a simple head count of the number of people in this country, and where they live. They really need to stick with that. Anything else is highly provocative.

Snow White

I found Snow White on the beach today. It was very unexpected. I was cruising for interesting shells when this unnatural smoothness against the beaten shore stood out. The color was a far cry from the gray whiteness of the usual oyster shell scatterings. I bent down for a closer look. Still, it wasn’t clear. Once picked up….there she was.

Snow hadn’t been dropped. She was all alone, and looked like she’d been out there for a while. When I found her, she had her head in the sand with seaweed and pebbles up her skirt. She’s all of 31/2 inches high, and her hair – black in color – has been rubbed away from the top and crown of her head. One cheek shows a great patch of wear. (I can relate.) Her left arm appears to have a bad case of psoriasis tho’ it’s artfully posed. Her costume is a bit thin over her chest, and there’s sand everywhere. However, Snow’s petticoat appears intact, and her great big eyes with impossible eyelashes are still in place. Her smile, slightly weary from her unknown trials and tribulations, is sweet.

Yes, still radiating her wonderful, wide-eyed optimism, Snow manages to convey her Disney lineage as clearly as the day she discovered celluloid. Makes me think that she decided to dump the Dwarves and go explore the world. Wonder what she’s seen. She certainly looks as though she’s had a few adventures out there, and could use a rest. So, today, I brought Snow home for a visit. When the weather’s a bit warmer, I’ll return her to shore so that she may continue her travels.

A Sunday Brush with Wealth and Whimsy

This past Sunday I was at sixes and sevens. Had no idea what to do with myself, had no desire to call anyone, and my apartment was NOT working it. Couldn't stay in. It was a lovely afternoon. The sunshine so delicious it was calling me out. So, I fell back onto a family habit of the last century.... When all else failed, we'd go for a Sunday drive. The whole point of a Sunday drive was to go down roads you hadn't before, explore neighborhoods you would not ordinarily visit, and limit your time only by how far you could go and return in an afternoon.

So. I determined to drive up the coast as close to the water as I could get without getting out of my car. As a result, I ended up traveling past some magnificent mansions. Many of which appeared to have been built in the early part of the 20th century. All were placed as close to the water as possible, and as far from the road and prying eyes as they could get. That is, the ones that were not completely hidden behind old stone walls, fences and hedges. The ones that could be glimpsed from the road had beautifully landscaped lawns and gardens. And the trees! The trees were beautiful, old, large, and either magnificently tall and imposing or had branches widely spread across the winter grass.

One such immense lawn contained three huge sculptures. The form that had me jamming on my brakes and laughing in delight, was a 20 to 25 foot high sculpture of an old-fashioned typewriter eraser! On the end touching the ground, was the huge pink eraser wheel. On the other end, a brush made out of blue painted metal. I once used such an eraser! Seeing this totally incongruous item preserved in gigantic form and casually displayed on someone's lawn made my afternoon. Later, it got better.

On my way home, I stopped for a latte. Parked royally near the entrance to the coffee shop was a large, modern, white Rolls Royce. It sat there - glowing - in the late afternoon dusk. There was not a smudge, or speck of dust, or water mark anywhere on it's surface. Inside, - yes, I had to look - it was as immaculate, I imagine, as the day it rolled off the lot. The - dare I say car? it seems so mundane - reeked of the exquisite care that only a great deal of money can provide. It was truly an awesome object. Honestly. How many times have you come across a Rolls Royce???? I certainly haven't. Usually the closest I get is to see one is in the movies. This was my first Rolls - in the flesh! - so-to-speak. Could the owner be getting a coffee too? Hmmmm. I looked. Nope. There doesn't seem to be anyone special enough to match the car inside the shop.

Suddenly, out of the Gents' comes this very tall, very slender, pale, gentle man with a very high forehead. He was dressed in a long, black, knitted cardigan which reached all the way down to his knees, black trousers and absolutely spotless white shoes. Aha! An unusual looking person! He was an excellent candidate to be the Rolls' owner.

We both ended up turning to leave at the same time with our coffees, when what should come through the front door, but 4 or 5 people dressed in costume. They all appeared to have arrived non-stop from the Tales of Mother Goose! I swear one was wearing Bo-Peep's bonnet. No staff, alas. When, passing them to leave, and on closer inspection, I saw that their eye makeup was verging on Goth and there were various piercings of nostrils and brows, etc. What a marvelous combination! Goth interpretations of Mother Goose stories? One can only hope.

Me and Mr. Cardigan left together. As we approached this gleaming, magnificent Rolls, Mr. Cardigan swooped around and opened the driver's door. I asked, "Is this yours?" He rather abashedly nodded yes. I think he was a little shy and non-plussed that I'd spoken to him. When I asked him if it was fun to drive, he, again, nodded and smiled. I said, "Enjoy!" With that he got into his brilliantly white Rolls Royce, and I headed off to my tan, road be-grimed Corolla. From the sublime to the commonplace. I was very satisfied with my Sunday afternoon.

May whimsy cross your path. It's wonderful.

For What? You Ask....

This is a forum I've created to avoid burning out my friends' ears with my observations. Breezin' also provides an outlet for when welcoming ears are unavailable. My interests are many. My comments will range from the mundane to the exotic. My perceptions are my own. My desire to share - my vanity. Please feel free to visit anytime you wish. You are welcome. Being new to this form, my posts may be slow to start, if not madly uncertain. There will be the occasional rant tho' I hope they are predominantly outweighed by stories and the odd bits of humor. And as my experience grows, there actually may be a graphic or two.

Here's to the beginning. A commitment. A plan. With a bit of luck, it's all going to be grand!