Jet Stream

Okay....So....I woke up at 4:30 this morning, on a Saturday, and I'm retired. So what's up with that?! I know! I start my traveling today, another trip. This time to meet my mate in Florida. He has been there, in the hot, sweaty sunshine, for a week. I have been here in the cold, drippy clouds all week. I cannot wait to get some of that hot into my chilled bones.

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Yesterday, I had lunch with the group I call The Ladies Who Lunch, which I stole from Stephen Sondheim's song of the same name that Gwen Verdon sang with such pizazz, a glass of booze and cubes in her hand. This group isn't Sex and the City; for one thing we are in Bremerton, not New York, and we are more apt to wear clogs than Jimmy Choo's, and we're either married or too old to still be in "the scene", but we do have a good time together. Yesterday we ate at a terrific little cafe', The Hi-Lo, on 15th street. It's like a 50s musuem with food. It's exactly my favorite kind of place. You get to choose your own coffee mug from 4 rows of old mugs--I chose the Cowboy Kitties mug--and get your coffee at a bar that is the open back of an old VW van. There is a great collection of lunch box thermoses, an inspirational framed bunch of cassette tape boxes (I have to do this!), a picture of Elvis, a painting of Ziggy Pop( I think it was Ziggy), a small picture of Bowie, a frame with 8-tracks inside! And just 3 doors down is an Italian Bakery, called Luigi's! I bought a big, round perfectly fresh loaf of Whole Wheat Bread with Walnuts and a cinnamon roll. That cinnamon roll was not your usual goopy, sloppy frosted roll ala' that place in the Mall that smells so good. This cinnamon roll was lots of cinnamon and only a little sugar surrounded by a wonderful sweet bread. I'm telling myself it's really a guiltless cinnamon roll and it tasted fabulous.

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The previous makes me think about the way I eat when my Mate is not here to cook for. All my great nutritional aspirations go right out the window. There are no menus, no grocery lists, no well-balanced meals with 4 or 5 servings of vegetables, a small amount of starch and a piece of meat the size of a deck of cards. Here are some of the things I ate for dinner this past week:

• One cinnamon roll/1 piece of toasted wheat-walnut bread with no butter/1 whole bunch of popcorn with a little butter/chocolate chip cookie
• One tuna fish sandwich with lettuce and Kettle potato chips
• One-half a peanut butter and marmalade sandwich with an apple
• One big salad (I was feeling a little guilty on that night!) and later, some crackers with hummus.
• One avocado, halved, with tuna fish in the middle and pine nuts, walnuts and pecans on the side. This was a good one!
• Tonight I plan to finish the two boiled eggs and the tuna fish in the refrigerator--probably mix them together and eat them out of a bowl. I also have half an English cucumber to get rid of. Wait a minute--this sounds like a nice tuna salad! Put a few pine nuts on top and some Paul Newman dressing and ta-da! Oh, and maybe a little dusting with Romano cheese.

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What do these three jobs have in common?

Finish lettuce

Charge phone

Wax face

These are things I have to do before I leave for Florida tonight.

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I just tried to get on Alaska Airlines website--I want to preprint my boarding pass. Guess what?! The site is not available. I bet they are rewriting the whole thing in light of all the changes the airlines have decided they must make. Crapola! Best laid plans and all that. I'll try again later. In the meantime, let me rant about the airlines.

WHAT ARE THEY THINKING? If they cut flights and they increase fares and they make it worse than riding on a bus to take a flight, who will fly? And won't that mean that they'll have to cut flights and raise fares further and then WHO will fly? I think only the wealthy will fly--and the wealthy will require things that we who flock like lemmings into the coach seats have learned not to need. We've given up our peanuts and now even our dry, awful pretzels. We've learned to live with that blood clot thing in our legs, with the unsanitary pillows that are as fluffy as hard-tack, with the blankets they probably just stuff into another plastic bag complete with cooties, for the next unsuspecting lemmings. We've learned to live with the not-so-polite attendents who are getting closer and closer to surliness--wouldn't you be near to snarling through your clenched teeth if you had to serve unhappy lemmings all day and night? We've learned to bring our own food, which we try to eat while keeping our elbows tightly at our sides and our feet wedged between our under the seat carry-ons, trying not to spill or drink too much because, heaven forbid you should want to get OUT of where you are sitting to clean up or pee! We've learned not to attempt to bend over to reach anything on the floor if we don't intend to get our heads stuck against the seat in front of us half-way down. We've learned, that if we can get OUT to the miniature cubicle called a restroom and we can get INTO it, we had better lose weight before next time, because that damned miniature toilet in that damned miniature "room" doesn't seem to accomodate so well anymore as our asses aren't MINIATURE! (although with the food they are NOT serving anymore, we might be miniature before we reach our destination.)

But those wealthy fliers are going to want MORE. Won't the airlines find themselves in a miniature pickle?

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I have gotten so annoyed with the Bremerton Sun, oh, sorry, the Kitsap Sun, lately, that I have subscribed to USA Today. The Sun had so little national news for the past many years that I felt isolated in a backwater and the nightly news on the TV wasn't doing it for me. On every trip I take I buy a USA Today because it's so interesting. Now it's delivered to my mailbox Monday through Friday. I am in newspaper heaven. It's serious enough, but not too serious, colorful, good entertainment news, pretty good book news, GREAT internation news and national news, a wonderful weather map and if you were into sports I bet you'd love the fat sports section. I love to read about the most expensive house on the market today. In Friday/Sat/Sunday edition this week there is an article titled "What is your favorite food memory of a Specific Destination?" This is in the TRAVEL section! On page 1 and 2 of the main section are huge articles about McCain and Obama. I am in heaven! On page 6A is an article about "Blacks optimistic and anxious about Obama". On page 11A the article "Pop culture vies with conservatism in Afghanistan". I don't think the Sun even HAS an 11A! It's gotten so tiny, if I had a bird I'd have to buy two or three Suns to cover the bottom of the bird cage!

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Some friends are asking me to blog more about Greece and I will later. Let me just put this in for now. It's a list I made near the end of our 2 1/2 week most recent trip:

Things I Wish I Could Take Home With Me

1. The birds that sing so loudly I can hear them

2. The train--convenient!

3. The sun

4. The ice cream

5. Mary and Lambrose and Eliza and Pan (cousins) Mary and Lambrose are movie loving intellectuals, Eliza is their 7 year old daughter and Pan is 38, a computer nerd like my Mate.

6. The marble floors

7. The refrigerators--the freezer on the bottom has 3 drawers in it, like a dresser! Ingenious!

8. The c'est la vie attitude (litter-oh,well. Striking worers-oh, well. Grafitti-oh, well-what can you do? Let's go have ice cream and Kaffes!)

9. Frappes (made with Nescafe' and ice, shaken to make a foamy head)

10. The friendly dogs--all were friendly. Michael was anxious of them at first, but learned they were harmlesss, even when barking.

11. NBN-translated Evie-soda--orange or lemon, less sweet than any soda I've had in the US

12. Fresh vegetable markets open all year long

13. The fresh bread bakeries (bread, butter, marmalade and coffee for breakfast every day)

Things I would not bring back:

1.The litter

2. Rude Greek men--I ran into them, or rather they ran into me, more often this time than during any previous visit. Maybe they are mad at Americans more than ever.

3. The Greeks love of liver and other organ meats. Yuck!!! Kokoretsi for Easter looked wonderful, barbecued over the same coals as the lamb, but ACK! Nasty!

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Last post for a week. I'll tell you about Orlando and the hot humid heat when I get back. My wish for you is good weather in the coming week, maybe a surprise or two and a discovery of a good show on the TV.

Happy Father's Day, Dad

Dad and me at my 49th Birthday. Dad was 71.

Me and My Dad in 1947. He was 26, I was 3.

I woke up thinking about Dad’s today. There aren’t many Dads in my life anymore. My Dad died in 2001 and my husband’s Dad died in 2005, and my third husband isn’t the father of any of my children. The only Dad in my life is my son.

I had a love/hate relationship with my Dad. I think that’s true for lots of people. I heard someone on the radio say it just this morning. As I look back on all I learned from him, the influences he had on me, I can see that our relationship was more positive than negative and this may be the first day in my 64 years that I’ve realized that. For most of my adult life I couldn’t see past the rages that scared and angered me. It is true that my Dad was a moody person and that rage was his weapon of choice. There was no telling what mood he would appear in when coming home from work. We kids learned to assess his mood before we would say or do anything, just in case. If the mood was bad, we would walk on egg shells, if good we could be more carefree.

Dinner was always a place to be on our best behavior as it often turned into a battlefield, especially between my Dad and my brother. My brother was picky about his food and stubborn—two qualities my Dad had little patience for. I, on the other hand, learned to clean my plate and, when not chewing, to keep my mouth shut. Actually, one major rule was to eat with your mouth closed, not an unusual rule in American households. Other rules were: Don’t sing at the table. Don’t whistle at the table. Clean your plate. No dessert without cleaning your plate. No elbows on the table. Most of these rules were common to most households in the fifties, but the consequences of breaking them may not have been as common. I recall one long night when my brother sat at the table well into the night, a victim of his stubbornness and my Dad’s conviction that his son must finish his dinner before he was allowed to leave the table. I couldn’t understand why my brother didn’t just eat the food. It didn’t occur to me that my Dad could have relented. He never, never did. I think on this night my Mother intervened. Somehow, my brother was allowed to go to bed.

There were many, many rules in our lives and many times when I was frightened of my Father and his Temper. He didn’t hit us or my Mother, though he did believe in spanking. He didn’t use a belt or a wooden spoon or any other implement other than his hand and, since it was the Fifties, my Mother used the “wait until your father gets home” threat on us. She was small and didn’t know the first thing about disciplining children. He was big, strong and knew how to spank. I wonder how many times the spankings my Mother asked him to perform were hard for him to do. I’ll never know. I wish I’d asked him when I became an adult.

Dad’s most effective weapon was his anger. It could be huge, overpowering, thunderous. As a child and young person I was frightened of him, as an adult his rages angered me. One evening, as my husband and my two little daughters visited my Dad and Mom, Dad went into a rage for a reason I’ve forgotten and picked up a dining room chair and threw it across the room. I became extremely angry and told him, as we were leaving, that we would never visit again. I believe my ultimatum had an effect on him. I don’t recall a scene like that one ever happening again. Of course, he asked for my forgiveness and I forgave him. I didn’t want to stop visiting.

And finally, somewhere in my Dad’s later years, he relaxed. He stopped being frightening, he laughed more, he showed affection more. As I think back, I believe it was around the time he retired. Could it have been that after he retired the pressure was gone? Was he one of those people who handled stress with anger? Whatever the reason, his last 20 years of life were easier for all of us.

I began by saying that my Dad’s positive influences outweighed the negative ones. For some reason I decided to emulate him. I might have chosen him, rather than my Mother, because he “put her down” often. She was an artist/singer and didn’t have the common sense that he esteemed. (I’m sure that’s exactly why he chose her. She was beautiful and vibrant and lively.) I wanted to win his admiration (and not get insulted or spanked) and so I became the good daughter, the girl who got good grades and had good sense. No matter why I chose this path, it has helped me get where I am. Perhaps I was hard-wired to be responsible, to be a leader, who knows? They say ¼ of your character is in your genes, the rest a product of your environment. If so, then my choosing to be more like Dad than Mom was important in how I turned out.

Even during the raging years my Dad was a funny and silly man. He used to come out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and his dark, wavy hair combed up into some crazy “do”, which made us all laugh. He used to imitate Sid Caesar and Mel Brooks and Milton Berle. He told jokes constantly, some that wouldn’t be politically correct these days, but were still corny and funny. He was good at it and could ALWAYS remember the punch line. He loved to fish and to bowl and to golf. He was what was called A Man’s Man. He watched football, baseball and basketball and the Friday Night Fights and I watched all of them with him, learning all the rules, because he was happy to share them with me. He tied flies for his fishing trips and let me watch and explained why he was putting this blue feather, in addition to this little red one, on this small hook. I still have some of the silver reflectors he used when he fished for salmon. One year he made my brother and me a sled; on it he had painted in script: Chris and Dan. He liked to take my Mom and us kids to the drive-in theater in the summer and made a game out of it. “Get in the back seat and close your eyes and don’t open them until we get there”, he’d say. He’d have to carry our limp, pj-clad, sleeping bodies into bed when we got home.

He wasn’t the conventional Dad of the Father’s Day cards, or at least I didn’t think of him in that way. I always had a hard time finding a Father’s Day card that fit his and my rocky relationship. He would try to do the right things, try to teach us how to fly a kite, but then get mad at the kite or us. He’d try to play board games with us and then get upset because we hadn’t “told him ALL the rules”. He took me fishing once and I caught a fish, but he never took me again. He tried to teach me to drive, but I nearly hit a stop sign and he didn’t take me out again. He did not have the patience of what we would consider a “good” Dad. But nearly everything I learned as I grew to be an adult, I learned from him and apparently, it wasn’t all bad. I say “apparently” because I have made a modest success of my life. I have had children and kept jobs for long periods of time and have many friends. People seem to like and respect me. You could say that is a testament, at least in part, to the parent I decided to emulate.

I got my wit and love of comedy and joking from him. I am tidy like he was and love organization. He was a fastidious dresser; I try to be that way, too. He sang and played the saxophone. I am musical, too. Anyone who knows my Mother will ask, “Didn’t you get your musical ability and love of music from her?” I will answer, yes, probably, but it didn’t hurt that my Dad revered those things, too. I used to have good penmanship (before arthritis), copying my Dad’s beautiful handwriting. I believe my Dad was helpful in leading me on the path of being a life-long reader of classic literature. I will never forget the thrill I experienced when he gave me his Robert Benchley book to read. I was 12, I think, and already read lots of books, but his sharing a book he loved with me, meant everything to me. Robert Benchley was a British humorist; my Dad loved humor. My Mom loved movie magazines and mysteries, but I chose to go a more serious route.

As I said, Dad tried. He especially loved mathematics and so when I struggled with a math homework problem, he would help me. The problem was that he always went on too long with his help. I felt later that he might have enjoyed being a teacher, but the temper would have gotten in his way. I love Math, too, and was always good at it. Another positive Dad-gift.

I wish I could write about my family like Augusten Burroughs or David Sedaris. They make it all seem so wonderfully funny. I’m sure my childhood was funny, too, if only I could get that perspective. It wasn’t tragic, it wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t sad; it was a childhood with all the emotions that entails. Yes, I was scared of this big Dad, but I loved him and I wanted to be like him in lots of ways. I hope I managed to distill the good bits, even as I absorbed some of the bad bits, too.

Okay....so....If I was going to make a Father's Day Card for my Dad right now, what would it say?

To My Dad

You are dead now

and way too late,

I realize that you gave me so many gifts

I can barely count them.

Thanks, Dad. I love you. I hope you knew that.

Love Always, Your Daughter

What Do You Believe?

There is a book advertised in my Quality Paperback Bookclub News titled This I Believe, with a subtitle of : The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women. The description tells us that "famous" people are quoted as well as "ordinary" people. The book would be interesting, but more interesting to me would be if my friends told me what they believe. If anyone reads this blog, please comment and tell me what you believe. I will start:

I believe in compassion and the Golden Rule. I believe in letting spiders live. I believe in the healing powers of: music and flowers that are growing and any beach. I believe that when I die the lights will go out and that they won't come on again. I believe that I may come back to people in dreams. I believe that the most perfect food is peanut butter. I believe in letting my face age. I believe that my grandchildren are the most gorgeous people on the face of the earth. I believe that love is nourishment. I believe that the smell of air-dried sheets is better than the smell of the most expensive perfume. I believe that Elvis is dead. I believe that I am fortunate.

Now it's your turn.

Memorial Day

Fossil Guy

My Dad w/my son Christopher

My Brother, Dan


Voices


Loved, idealized voices
of those who have died, or of those
lost for us like the dead.

Sometimes they speak to us in dreams;
sometimes deep in thought the mind hears them.

And, with their sound, for a moment return
sounds from our life's first poetry--
like distance music fading away at night.



C.P. Cavafy
(Greek poet 1863-1933)

Justice

I've been thinking about justice ever since I served on that jury last week. We convicted that girl on SEVEN counts. And we did it pretty quickly. There were a couple of jurors who had doubts about the truthfulness of one of the witnesses, a police informer, but the rest of us were pretty sure that this girl was guilty, guilty, guilty. It didn't feel good though. Afterwards I had a distinctly bad taste in my mouth. Probably some of the other jurors did, too. I was sad. Even after I came home and looked up this girl's record on the web and saw that she had been in trouble for several years. I still felt sad.

My husband said, "you helped to get her off the street. She was stoned on meth when she was driving on the very same roads you drive on. She could have stolen your identity to get money for her drugs. She might have broken into your house to steal money for her drugs. Now she'll be in jail and not stealing from you or being a danger to you." I still felt sad.

If I saw this girl on the street I would never have known she had a criminal background or even that she did drugs. I've seen clean people who looked less healthy than she did. What happened to her? Why doesn't she work at Macy's, or go to Olympic College? Why doesn't she have ambitions and dreams? Why doesn't she go on vacation and tan herself on the beach and shop for pretty clothes? Why doesn't she paint her toenails and make her hair nice? Why doesn't she watch reality TV, American Idol, CSI, go to movies with her boyfriend? Why doesn't she read books or play games on the computer? Why doesn't she send her mother a Mother's Day card? Why did she cry the entire time her mother was in the courtroom? Why is all her time spent getting the money to buy the next drugs so she can sell some of them to get the money to get the next drugs?

I wish I knew the answers. I wish I knew why some perfectly normal seeming kids end up under the thumb of drugs while others move into what we percieve as a "normal" life. I felt so lucky and so sad. Yes, I'd "put her away", but it didn't feel good at all.

Greek National Museum of Archeology

If you want to see some of my pictures from Greece, visit this Flickr webpage:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/song_bird/

I've put up about one third of the pictures I want to share and this week I'll put more on. I have to resize them first, so it takes a little while.

Since this was my fourth trip to Greece I was taking different pictures this time. Up until this trip, I was taking pictures of quaint scenes, but since we were staying near Athens and not going to any islands, the quaint scenes weren't available, so I took pictures of things that interested me. Sometimes you may wonder WHY I took the picture, but that's just my style. I like color, graffiti, odd pairings, irony. (My son will question what I mean by irony.)

I am glad we didn't get out to the islands because we experienced so much of Athens and the nearby area, that I realized there is much more to see on the mainland than I had realized. The mainland isn't as pretty as the islands and I will never want to have a trip to Greece where we can't visit at least one island, because the beauty and the quiet makes them the best places on earth. Michael's cousins say they are touristy, but the locals can't control the color of the water or the sky or the temperature and feel of the air or the smells of the olive trees and the beaches. Yes, the towns have lovely little tourist trap shops, but I still love them and the Bougainvillea is incredibly bright against the white-washed buildings which sit against the brilliant blue sky. It is breathtakingly beautiful and I ain't gonna give it up! The postcards don't lie--but most of them are taken on the islands. Athens is a different story.

We visited the National Museum of Archeology one day in Omonia, with Michael's cousin, Mary, who is my best friend in Greece. She is very cultured, speaks French, Italian, Spanish, perfect English, as well as her native language. She co-owns a pharmacy. More on that later. The museum was extraordinary, one of the best I have ever experienced--better than NYC Metropolitan, better than our own SAM, better than the tiny museum in Las Vegas's Bellagio, have never been to the Louve, so I can't say, or to any museum in London. But I'd make a bet on those as well. Of course, Greece has some of the most ancient artifacts and statues in the world, but they display them in a way that allows for a person to breathe on them--there are no ropes, except around the most fragile items--you are not supposed to touch, but you could if the watchers were looking the other way. And the watchers are not wearing uniforms, only name tags, so I didn't feel constantly watched like I have in other museums. No flash cameras, like in every museum, but cameras without flash are allowed and I took tons of pictures. The statues from 400 BC were the most fascinating to me--the veins on the arms and the feet, the perfect depiction of anatomy 18 centuries before Michaelangelo dissected dead bodies to see how the tendons and muscles lay beneath the skin. The perfect little limp penises--no fig leaves here! It was interesteing to see the change in sculpture when the Romans arrived. Up until then the faces on the statues were idealized, beautiful men and women, no flaws. The Romans did "portrait" sculpture and the heads showed real faces, jowly, broad, long nosed, bald. They still often used the idealized bodies to put these heads on, making some interesting and odd compositions.

Mary was thrilled that the Thera exhibit was open. Thera is more commonly known as Santorini, the island that is the rim of a volcano, and probably the most famous of the Cyclades islands and the most dramatic. Her father has a tiny house there that he used to live in and now rents out. We stayed there in 1994, during my first trip to Greece. We visited the archeological dig while there--I stood in one of the dig sites and declared, "Ema archeologo!", the only two words besides hello, please and thank you that I knew at the time. The Thera exhibit contained two walls that were intact from this ash buried site from 1500 BC. The colors were still as vivid as they had been when painted and depicted life in the village at the time--sophisticated and beautiful art. There were also household implements, jewelry, a huge olive jar and other artifacts that were found in the village that was abandoned before the volcano erupted. No bones were ever found there, so all the residents escaped. No one knows where they went.

Michael kept asking Mary, as we made our way through the rooms looking at the incredible statuary, what kinds of tools the sculptures used--he couldn't wrap his mind around what tools they used and how the tools might have been made. Mary explained that iron was available to them, as well as other metals. I hope one day we can find a museum that shows the tools. We saw many other practical items--a strainer, spoons, knives, forks, cups, bowls, cooking "pans", all the things that people in every century all over the world used in their daily lives. All of these things dated from many centures BC. The jewelry was incredible. One regret is that we didn't visit the gift shop because jewelry replications can be found there. Anyone who knows me, knows that jewelry is one of my favorite things!

We will go to this museum again. We missed the Cyclades art, ancient but modern looking. The famous Cyclades head was used as a symbol in the opening ceremonies of the Athen Olympic Games in 2004 and we have a replica on our fireplace mantel. And I want to visit the gift shop!

I'm Back--Sort of

There won't be a full-fledged post today. My body is back but my brain is somewhere else over the Atlantic and I bet I couldn't put together 4 sentences today, so I'll just put a picture here--one of 500 or so that I took on our trip to Greece--the 4th I've taken. It was an entirely different trip, which I will explain when my brain finally gets here.

It's All Greek to Me

I am posting this from Greece. It is a quiet day with not much activity planned and Cousin Paniotis has left the computer accessible to us so I've been looking at grandchild photos on Flickr and will write a little here for the heck of it.

I have been learning how to read the Greek alphabet this trip and am getting pretty good at reading signs phonetically, even though I often don't know what they mean. Sometimes I can tell because the word is so close to the English version. I have learned some more generalities, like HOw are you? and I'm fine and essential phrases like that and am not so afraid to try Greek words. I know that when someone comes from another country and tries to speak our language we are very happy about it and encourage them, so why would it be any different here.

I found a Greek costume for Alison--most of them were very expensive--the Euro has not been good for tourists or for Greeks, but they are trying to get used to it. but I found a costume that was not quite as expensive and it is not quite as nice or well made. I may have to do a little work on it before I send it to her. It's not as nice as the dress that Maria sent to her. But it has a hat! And will the hat fit? That is the big question--if not Ali, one day it will fit Zuzu!

We have not gone to the islands and won't be able to this trip. It's too early in the season. We've spent all our time around Athens and Kefisia, though we went Southwest to a casino last night. Of course, Michael's mother wanted to gamble while she was here, but his Aunt Eleni, who is not a gambler won 700 Euros with one coin! Equivalent to about $1000! Lucky!

That's all for this post. Michael is chomping to get on the computer. I think he's beginning to miss his computer. We have been walking miles and miles every day and taking the train, which I love. You can get anywhere!

Caio and Yasas for now. Back too soon!

Fossil Guy's Birthday

It's Fossil Guy's Birthday today. He would have been 74. I thought he would live to be 90 and beyond. I'll be thinking of him all day. Happy Birthday, Fossil Guy. Here's to you, wherever you are.

Funny Isn't It?

This is an ad that I found in the Sunday paper coupon insert. The part that got my attention is "We buy energy credits!" Yahoo--Yippee!! Good for you! Are we supposed to buy this product because this company buys energy credits, even if it clogs our arteries and makes us fat? Hey, we buy energy credits, so it's okay and you can eat our product without guilt! I think we're going to see lots more of this. On the one hand it's great that saving the environment has suddenly become the "cool" thing to do, but I think it's little late for cool. Funny? Not very.

I hope others watched the debate the other night, the most recent one of many, many debates between Obama and Hillary, so they understand this cartoon, which I found to be right on the money and hilarious! I kept wondering when Charles Gibson and my favorite news guy, George Stephanopolis, would get to the real issues--turns out they didn't get there until question number 16! For shame! Funny, but not really.

Since we're talking funny, here is a politically WAY-incorrect joke I heard BJ Novak (writer for and actor {Ryan} in The Office) say on Bob River's radion show on KZOK this morning:

"Battered women sound so delicious, but it doesn't make it right!"

He also said, "If I could have dinner with anyone, living or dead, I'd choose living...."

Now that's funny!

Dreamy Wednesday

This day began with a dream that showed just how anxious I am about what we might run into on our trip to Greece next week. Here's the dream:

I'm in New Jersey. I have just been "dropped off" there somehow, after missing a connection to a flight. This New Jersey place is strange. It's very little, a small town, like it's in the boonies of NJ, with lots of Mexicans around. There is a grocery store/bar/drugstore establishment that I go into looking for ways to get on another flight. A woman who has been manning the drugstore part of this place says, "Come on over here and I'll take care of you", as she leaves one counter and goes to another, which is apparently the place she can take care of me. She says, "Yeah, I can put you on another flight, no problem." I ask her when it will be leaving and she says offhandedly, "A couple of days." I am appalled! Horrified! I have to stay in this strange, little NJ town for a "couple of days"?! I walk out of the establishment in shock and run into three other women who are in my same boat. These woman are tall and veeerrry wide, but they are women who understand my predicement and they're nice, so we decide to go together to get something to eat and talk over the problem. We get a taxi--yes, there is a taxi in this odd little town--and all four of us get in the back seat. I am squished by them to the point that my cheeks (on my face) are so pushed together that my mouth is in a pucker! But we get to a restaurant which is, predictably, Mexican. I usually don't have anything against Mexican food, in fact we eat quite a lot of it, but this restaurant looked like a place that hadn't seen a food inspection in a looooong time. So, in addition, to having to spend "a couple of days" in this town, I am worried that I might have to spend a couple of days in this town with loose bowels. While I am eating the gray, porky, fatty, suspect food I look out the window at the street. It is very colorful, lots of signs, people dressed in vibrant reds, yellows, greens, blues, there seems to be a parade of some kind--and then a bus goes by hung with skulls--skulls dangling on every square inch--a Day of the Dead spectacle. All I can think of in my panic is that I have to call my husband--he can get me out of here--he will call who ever it takes to get me a flight out of this place, this dangerous, scary place. That's when I woke up. I was still in New Jersey, but at least my dream had allowed me a plan of action. Where is Tony Soprano when you need him?

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A couple of hours after the dream I was in the dentist chair looking through an "O" magazine and waiting for Dr. Redd to replace a worn out filling. He had already told me that he didn't have to give me novocaine because he could do it in a jiffy, pain free. All the way to the dentist's office I had been thinking I was going to get one of those needles in the roof of my mouth and compared to the awfullness of that, the dream I woke up with would seem like a lovely fairytale. He did it, though. He ground a little, he filled a little, he put the blue light on it and polished it and I had a new filling, with no pain and no needle in the roof of my mouth. I celebrated by getting an Americano coffee at the Safeway Starbucks and by buying lettuce, tomatoes and peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie dough!

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With Americano in hand I visited my Mom, as I always do on Wednesdays. I took with me the recent pictures I had Flickr print for me of my two beautiful granddaughters, Alison and Zuzu. I knew Mom would appreciate them and she did. She exclaimed over Zuzu's sweet smile and Alison's wonderful eyes and what a great parent her "sweet little grandson, Christopher" had become. Mom always has the TV on, usually on the classic movie station and today was Charlie Chaplin day. The movie was one from the 50s where Charlie is white-haired and wearing a tuxedo most of the time. A pretty woman came into the scene with a swoopy 50s hat and gorgeous eyes. I didn't recognize her and I'm usually pretty good at recognizing movie people--Mom said, "I think she's Dawn Adams or something like that." I'd never heard of Dawn Adams so I couldn't dispute or corroborate, but later when the credits came up, there was her name, Dawn Adams! At 86 my Mom still impresses with her memory for movie star trivia! I told Mom about my New Jersey travel dream and she responded that she was a little bit glad she wasn't going to Greece with us because she'd been watching the news and being in an airport right now didn't look like much fun to her.

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It's time to go read "John Adams" now (ancestor of Dawn?) and finish my Americano--I can nurse one all day. In a half hour Michael will come home and I'll tell him my dream and accentuate the part about how I knew he would solve all my problems for me. He'll like that.

Brain Teaser

I have a brain again! To explain: have you ever had a cold that compromised the activity of your brain? I have had that cold this past week. What happens in there, I wonder? Is it the gi-hugic quantities of mucous that are being created by the workings of the cold germ? Is the mucous accumulating in my sinus cavities and pressing on the lobes of my brain? Is my brain being strangled by the ropes of green, gunky mucous? Whatever the physical causes, the fact is I felt brain-damaged, in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s disease, unable to make a coherent thought, remember a word, form a plan. All gone! If this is a little hint of what it’s like to have dementia, I don’t want to live that long!

Winter Blahs

Or Winter Blues. Or Winter Boos. Or even better, Winter Booze! Maybe that would help with this uncharacteristic Pacific Northwest Winter we are experiencing. I am so tired of the cold and the wet. Whether you subscribe to Global Warming or Climate Change or neither, anyone who lives around here will agree that this winter of 2007-08 has been colder and snowier and wetter than we are used to. I thank my lucky stars every time it snows, that I retired in the Fall and I don’t have to decide whether I am going to risk my limbs by driving to work in the stuff. At least there’s that.

I was in Wisconsin in December and in Rhode Island this month and I’m here to tell you, those who say a dry cold is better than a wet cold are absolutely right. Coming back here after being in bitter cold in Wisconsin and semi-cold in Rhode Island made my bones ache! There is nothing to compare with a cold, WET day. The damp crawls right up inside you and camps there. You can’t get warm no matter how many layers you put on.

This morning I woke up to snow falling again, on March 28 of all things! I know that Wisconsin and the entire Midwest, probably, has snow on the ground that won’t likely go away until the end of April, but that’s not supposed to happen here. We are supposed to have a nice regular 3-month season. Three months of Spring, three months of Fall and three months of Winter. I’m leaving out Summer because that’s a crap shoot. Sometimes it lasts for a couple of weeks, sometimes a couple of months. I could do with a nicer Summer, but having a short summer and a looonnnng winter is too much!

I look at the temperatures across the U.S. every day in the newspaper and long to be with my daughter in San Diego, where it is 67 today, or with my daughter in Norfolk where it is a balmy 75. What warm joy that would be! Even London weather, notorious for its gloominess, has been better than ours. Today it’s 55 degrees, 10 degrees warmer, at least, than in Kitsap County, and 18 degrees warmer than in my yard, where it has now risen to a chilly and WET 35 degrees.

Okay, I’m going to pray to Jeff and Andy and Steve, our main PNW TV weathermen, to bring us warmer temperatures. I am going to do a sun dance. I am going to put sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt on my snowman. I am going to build an altar to the sun and burn said snowman. I am going to promise to worship the sun exclusively if only, if only it will return. But first I’m going to go put on another layer, put some anti-fungal between my toes, take an allergy pill against the mold and mildew, replenish the Kleenex and crank up the teapot.

15 Things I've Learned Since Retirement

I have had 6 months now of freedom from 9 to 5 work and I have learned a few things:

1. If you don’t wear lipstick every day your lips get chapped.

2. You can cook much better dinners when you have more than a half hour to create them.

3. Just because you aren’t in the land of donuts, chocolate, pastries and cakes (which is what my workplace was) doesn’t mean you are going to lose weight. Probably it’s because of those “better dinners” and lunches out!

4. My plan of walking to get the newspaper (1/4 mile) before having coffee and breakfast quickly changed to having the coffee and breakfast first.

5. FreeCell is really fun and challenging!

6. I like to wash the dishes every morning. It cleans my fingernails and warms up my hands!

7. I eat lunch out more often than I used to.

8. It’s really fun to stay in bed some mornings and watch an episode of Lost or Boston Legal that I’ve recorded. It feels decadent!

9. A not-yet-retired husband still wants to grocery shop and go to Costco on Saturdays.

10. The “exercise everyday” resolution quickly went the way of the newspaper before breakfast one.
11. My house is tidier and cleaner now though not nearly as spotless as I had planned.

12. It’s cheaper to be retired. I am not tempted to donate to coworkers’ children’s fund raisers or to buy gifts for every birthday and occasion. And I drink my own coffee rather than buying it.

13. I was afraid I wouldn’t have anything to talk about with my husband at the end of the day, but I have plenty. For one thing, I can now read the entire paper before he gets home and there’s plenty of fodder there.

14. It took me 3 months to come up with a new routine that helped me remember to brush my teeth!

15. I heard a retiree say that you don’t know how good the weather is in the Pacific NW until you’re retired. He was absolutely right. When you are sitting behind a desk the only weather you are aware of is what happens on the weekends. For instance, the sun is shining right now, but if I was in an office I would hardly notice it except for longing to be out in it.

Hope

Yeah, it's time for a new post. That last post just kind of said it all for a long time. But the sun is out today, Obama is winning more primaries and it feels like hope is in the air. I have been spending more time out in my garden--it takes about 1 1/2 hours before it gets too cold, but in that time I'm cleaning up some stuff and noticing the little shoots coming up. Today the crocuses actually bloomed. If a crocus isn't hope, what is?

Bookworm's blog post was about fun. That's hope.

My oldest daughter posted on her blog two days in a row! That's hope that there will be more.

There's a picture of my son and his new baby daughter sleeping together. The hope there is that Zuzu will be a snuggler, which was his hope, disappointed, with his first daughter.

It's Over

It’s over now. Fossil Guy has passed away, a beautiful memorial service took place yesterday, Bookworm’s stepchildren will be going back to their own homes today. Today we will watch the Superbowl. I washed clothes this morning. Tomorrow I will vacuum the floor. I expect Bookworm will start seeing clients again. Life is going on. We are picking up where we left off a year ago. A year ago it seemed as if life would never be the same again, and though it isn’t the “same”, because FG isn’t in it anymore, we will all create a new “same”, a life without him. We are still alive and we will go on living.

Yesterday, on the way to Bookworm’s house after the service, my Mom, sitting in the back seat with Bookworm, said, “Now the hard part begins”. But I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think she realizes just how hard this past year has been. From the moment FG was diagnosed there was the certainty of his death looming and all who loved him put their lives on hold, their full happiness on hold. In my house, any time my mate would say, “It’s going to be a great year!” I’d have to remind him that FG was going to die this year, so “great” was not a word I could use. I know BW found much joy in her last year with FG, but there was still the dark specter of death in his cough, in his chemo, in his growing weakness. It couldn’t be ignored.

I am thankful that after I retired at the end of August I was able to visit weekly and then more often as the days grew short. I don’t want to imagine how I would have felt if I’d been working and wouldn’t have had the energy and will to visit as often. I am also thankful that the last days were not as bad as predicted by the nurses. It could be that somehow Fossil Guy willed himself to be clear until the end and to die before he was vulnerable to the point of total helplessness. He relied on us, but he was in control. He could still hold his water cup, he could still sip from it. With help, he could reach the bathroom or a chair. There was no humiliation. That is probably what I feared the most, having experienced it with my Dad.

I don’t think it will be “the hard part” for Bookworm because she is so strong, resilient as the silly putty she often kneads in her hands. Any woman who can live through what her son has given her to endure can live after this. She is from hardy stock, feisty, buoyant people. And she has scores of friends who love her. That counts. I’m not saying it’s going to be a cakewalk. FG was so special that he will never be replaced, but he “saved” her life, as she says, and she doesn’t need saving anymore.

So life goes on. It’s one of the most used cliché’s there is, but cliché’s are born and flourish because they are true. Life will go on and we’d best make the most of it. Who can ever know when the death sentence will be written for us?

Preparing

I feel it's time for me to ready myself for the loss of my dear friend, Jim, or Fossil Guy, as he is known to blogger friends. He has stopped eating and maybe that's his way of saying, "I am done". Who knows what goes on in the minds of people who know their time is short--he even called himself a short-timer recently and the other day when I was visiting he said, "I don't have to do anything anymore". I have known for a year that Jim would die, but I have kept the deep feelings of loss at bay, trying to keep the stiff upper lip, the good attitude, the calm exterior. But it is too obvious now--he is much thinner, his thought processes are slower, his complexion is gray, his voice is thinned and higher.

The only thing I can think to do is to keep visiting, to be there for Bookworm, to remember all the times through all the years we've been together--to help sustain me. Yesterday I was so sad and then angry that it had to be Jim. Why couldn't my useless brother be the one? I was shocked at the thought, but in fact, Jim has been closer to me and more important to me than my own brother. For 40 years he has always been out there, 10 years ahead of me exactly. Our birthdays are 2 days apart. When I have been anxious about a point in my life he has always had wise words for me, from 10 years more experience. Who will be able to do that for me when he is gone? Who will be able to diffuse a worry with a few words of rye wit? Who will be able to put the crazy political/social landscape into perspective like Jim can? Who do I have the history with?There is nobody like him and there never will be. I have to prepare to lose the solidity, the calmness, the intelligence of him. I know I will never be ready.

Happy New Year

Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve—and soon it will be 2008, a brand new year to start, with brand new ideas of how it should be and surprises to mess up those ideas. It has become my own tradition to put my journal together on New Year’s Eve. Since the arthritis in my hands made it so that it was painful to write in long hand, I have been using a 3-ring notebook for my journal. There are 11 notebooks—this year’s will be the 12th.

During the year I type entries on the computer, or if I’m visiting someone I bite the bullet and write them out with a pen on whatever paper I can get my hands on. I save emails that seem important, from people that are important to me—my friend, Bookworm, my kids, certain other friends. I put all of these records in a basket in our guest room, along with mementos picked up here and there, on travels or from restaurants of note, or programs from concerts or plays, birthday cards, Mother’s Day cards, etc. On New Year’s Eve day I bring them all out and put them all together in a new notebook—the entire year laid out in front of me. It never fails to surprise me—the things that have happened and how many of them I’ve forgotten—what made me anxious 9 months ago and is just stuff under the thing now.

Since the beginning I have chosen notebooks that have those clear plastic inserts on the cover and the spine, so I can insert cards or pictures in a collage that symbolizes the most important events of the year. The year I accompanied my friend, Sid, to New York, the cover was all about what I saw and ate there. This year there will probably be a lot of new granddaughter and Alaska and Mexican cruise stuff. And a picture from my retirement party!

I’m looking forward to looking backward over the year. It’s been a busy year with great news and awful news and travels and new family members and life changes—a rich year. I wish any of you who read this blog a

Happy New Year

I hope 2008 is a rich year for you.

Ali's Baby Zuzu

This is my Granddaughter practicing a sponge bath on her own "Baby Zuzu" doll, right after she watched her Mama do the same with her new baby sister.

Mama and New Baby, Zuzu

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Originally uploaded by Porkbone

I got my Christmas wish. I arrived in Wisconsin to "be there" just in case the baby, that was due December 22, should arrive early. The baby decided to come very early! She was born December 4 at 3:35 in the afternoon (approximately). I had barely 48 hours of "training" to take over the job of caring for Alison, who is now 30 months old. We call it a Christmas Miracle, because it went so well. We can also posit that Ali is a resilient youngster, smart enough to know that Grandma was there for an important reason and that it would be best to go along with the program.

We played inside and outside in the snow. I read her stories and fed her lunch and played the "pretty rock soup" game many, many times. We learned how to sing Frosty the Snowman and in this process I learned to understand Ali's words well enough so that I only had to fake it a few times--"sure, honey, whatever you say".

Ali was non-plussed by the baby, even after she had been home for 12 days, but she was beginning to be interested in observing her when she had her diaper changed and when she had a sponge bath. She quickly named her doll Baby Zuzu and began to give her sponge baths, too. As I watched her attempting to adjust to this huge change in her life, I felt like I ought to apologize to my first daughter for not being more sensitive to her feelings when her little sister was born. It was clear that Ali knew her world was now different. And maybe not different in a better way!

But I got my Christmas Wish. I was there to help and to hold my newest grandchild when she was brand new and barely awake to the world yet. I was there to see my granddaughter's reaction and, in some small way, to help her through the first days. We got to know each other much better this trip. Maybe when I visit her next she will remember the Grandma that played pretty rocks with her and made "reedy, reedy big houses" with her wooden blocks, and sang Frost the Snow Man with her. I can only hope!

Factory Closed

As of yesterday, the cooking/baking factory is CLOSED! I am done, at least for 2 weeks. The packages of baked goods have left the building and are on their way, through the mail routes to their destinations, Norfolk and San Diego. I also sent a big rescue vehicle toy to my Grandson, Alex, but the dang thing was a challenge to wrap--read that: ###$^%&&** hard. It would not fit into any of the boxes we had saved in the garage for sending things in and because of it's shape it couldn't just be wrapped in brown paper. I had to cut and tape and tape and cut other pieces of cardboard to wrap around it and then cut up paper bags to wrap the wrap. It was very odd-shaped by the time I was done and nearly waterproof because of all the tape.

Now it's just get the suitcase packed and wrap a few presents before I go on December 1, to Wisconsin. I put the Christmas tree up and got lights on it yesterday and a few ornaments. When I got home from my Mom's house yesterday, Michael had placed presents under it already. He is one of THOSE. He wraps things as he gets them. It seems so logical and organized, so why can't I do that? I always have to go into a frenzy of wrapping in order to get it done. I wrapped all of Michael's presents today, except for the one that isn't here yet. Then I got ready to walk out to get the paper and just as I was leaving the phone rang. At this time in my life I don't let the phone ring. It could be a crisis at my Mom's house or it could be Irene calling to say she is on her way to the hospital to have that new little granddaughter. As it turned out, it was Irene, reporting on her earlier report of two days ago, that she is dialated to 2 centimeters and is in lots of discomfort but that she is still hanging on. She had phone numbers to give me, lots of "just in case" information and new tales of Alison's antics. She has also made a list of Ali's idiosyncracies and her routines, just in case. She is doing the best job she possibly can to avert any "second baby" traumas.

By the time that phone call was over Michael had come hope with the paper, soI took off my coat and ate some lunch. Just as I was ready to go lay out all the stuff that had to go in my suitcase, I got another call. This time it was a Mom Crisis. "Chris! I'm at the Mall and I can't find my car. I have been everywhere and I just don't see itand I'm exhausted. Can you come and help?" So, off I went to the Mall and rescued Mom, whose car was on the other side of the Mall from where she'd been looking. After a few questions it was pretty easy to narrow it down.

So even though I am not baking, I am still cooking on all four burners. Now, if the snow will just hold off until I get to the airport on Saturday I will be a happy camper and on my way to a new, exciting adventure.

Cooking Factory

It's been a cooking factory around here this past week and today I'm taking a day off. Last week I baked three kinds of cookies and then made ALL of the Thanksgiving Dinner, except for a jar of baby dills! I'm tired of that stove and that counter and measuring cups and spoons, and chopping and basting and checking for doneness! Ack!!!! But next week I have to do it all over again because I have more bread to bake and one more batch of cookies before I fly off to Wisconsin on December 1. I have to get it all done and shipped, to say nothing of wrapping. But you know, even though I am tired of cooking/baking today, it is something I love to do and I couldn't do much of it if I was still working. I could have made the big turkey, etc., but bread and cookies wouldn't have been on the agenda. So why am I complaining?! Oh well, a little whine never hurt anybody. Today I am looking forward to Turkey Sandwiches, the best thing about Thanksgiving, in my book. With a little cranberry sauce in the sandwich and a nice big piece of lettuce--oooo, my mouth is watering.

We had a nice afternoon/evening yesterday--ate the lovely, delicious dinner (too quickly) with the music from "Cold Mountain" in the background, then played a game of Quiddler, while listening and singing to my Retirement Mixed CD, and with pumpkin pie and heaps of whipped cream, we watched "Flushed Away", one of those clever cartoon movies. I think my Mom and Brother are very happy that they have me to arrange all of this for them, otherwise they'd end up at Angel's Buffet! And this year it wasn't half the exhaustion I usually feel, which means retirement is helping my energy level! On a related matter, I went to the doctor last week, too, between batches of baked goods, and my blood pressure was much lower than it has been in years.

Today is going to be a very (sorry Bookworm) low blood pressure day because I'm not going to ask anything of myself, except to lounge around, read the next in the series of the Diana Gabaldon books I'm reading, a big fat one called The Fiery Cross, drink warm liquids and have that sandwich. And I do believe there will be leftovers for dinner.

Friendship Vows

After spending the day accompanying Bookworm to a doctor at the University of Washington medical center on Monday, it occurred to me that there could be vows said between friends and if one weren't willing to say these vows, then they would not be deemed a TRUE FRIEND. The vows would be something like this:

I promise to be your friend to love and to cherish,

In success and in failure

In fame and in obscurity

In pain and in contentment

During embarrassing medical examinations

During times of too much drink

During overweight and underweight

Regardless of lunatic sexual adventures

Whether we like ourselves or not

In silliness and soberness

In times of honesty or white lies

While in anguish or euphoria

While lost or found.

In times of direst need

I promise to hear every word

And never to judge

For as long as we both shall live and even after.

Ali Ice Skating

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Originally uploaded by Porkbone

I know you are all aware of how extraordinary my Granddaughter, Alison, is, but lest you forget, here she is imitating an Olympic ice skater. I am impressed that she interacts with the little TV she is allowed to view, rather than sitting in front of it slack-jawed.

Photogenic Fall

I love the Fall. It's colorful, crispy chilly, full of plans for Halloween and for the coming holidays, for a new school year, for a new TV season. You can get prettier pictures in the Fall than at any other time of year and I'm always inspired to get outside with my camera. Here are a couple of pictures from this year and last year. I think this year has been one of our prettiest Falls. The picture above is the seedball that is left after a small clematis flower is done blooming.

This fungus picture was taken at Scenic Beach.

And this one is of a leaf on my grape vine.

This photo and the next one were taken next to the river that flows through Leavenworth.

Best Of

My Favorite Movie of 1985

Last week, at a dinner of our women's group, SLANT, we were trying to list the three music CDs we'd take to a desert island with us. It wasn't easy, because we all love music, so the conversation went on for a long time ranging from Carmina Burana to Uncle Bonsai.

That got me thinking about movies and which movies I'd take to that desert island. That's even harder. I have been since childhood a huge movie lover. Our Mom took us to movies every week and my earliest movie memory is of Song of the South, with Uncle Remus and Brer Rabbit. How could i possibly come up with a list? But my family has been keeping what we call New Year's Papers since 1985, more than 20 years. They are lists of Best Ofs for books, TV shows, movies, etc. for the previous year. That's where I'd have to start. Just for kicks here is a list of the movies I've listed since 1985, with the movies from '85 forward:

Sophie's Choice and The Big Chill - 1985

Amadeus - 1986

The Return of Martin Guerre - 1987

Gorillas in the Mist, Rasing Arizona, Mystic Pizza and A Fish Called Wanda - 1988 (Couldn't make up my mind or a good movie year, not sure which)

Dad, Bull Durham and Round Midnight - 1989

Jean de Florett, Cinema Paradiso and Bird - 1991 (another good movie year)

Cyrano/Truly, Madly, Deeply/Malcolm X - 1992

Crying Game and Sleepless in Seattle - 1993

The Piano/Schindler's List/Four Weddings and a Funeral/The Player/Shawshank Redemption - 1994 (Wow!)

Rob Roy/Blue Sky/Apollo 13 - 1995

Il Postino - 1996

English Patient/Donnie Brasco/The Usual Suspects - 1997

Good Will Hunting - 1998

Shakespeare in Love/Waking Ned Devine/You've Got Mail - 1999

American Beauty/Sixth Sense/The Amazing Mr. Ripley - 2000

Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou - 2001

My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Changing Lanes - 2002

Frieda/The Hours/Finding Nemo - 2003

Hero, Bad Santa and Mystic River - 2004

Vera Drake/Sideways/Shaun of the Dead/Boys Don't Cry - 2005

Million Dollar Baby/The Three Burials of Mequiades Estrado - 2006

I guess I would have to have a really big boat to take all these movies to the deserted island, plus all my favorites from before 1985!

Promises

Sunday we were asked at 2:30 to attend a “renewal of wedding vows” for Fossil Guy and Bookworm at 4:30 on that same afternoon. If you know Bookworm at all you know that she might call you with such a request out of the blue and that if you know what’s good in this world, you go. Which we did and were glad of it. It was a lovely occasion—lots of people heeded the call and came ready for anything. I asked Fossil Guy what was going on and he responded that he didn’t know much except that he was to put a new ring on Bookworm’s finger and showed me the ring, then residing on his little finger.

The Fellowship minister, Liz, led the two in their vows; Fossil Guy said something very sweet off the cuff to Bookworm and Bookworm read something she had written, also sweet. Grandson, Alex, nee Aliester, announced that his grandparents were “very good” ones and Granddaughter, Rachel, also known as Mrs. H. lately, read an announcement written by her Grandma. We were asked to tell of something we knew about the couple we were there to fete and I remembered, nearly 40 years ago, the two of them standing face to face in the old Fellowship hall, with arms around each other, staring into each other’s eyes. I believe I have a picture of it, which I will attach with this post if I can find it.

The proceedings brought tears to most of our eyes, including the old/new bride and groom who we toasted with champagne and then we ate slices of pumpkin pie on the deck, in the unseasonably warm October afternoon.

It made me wonder what kind of vows I would say now, after being with my mate for almost 15 years. I asked him what he would say and he, not being one to take such questions seriously, replied that he would promise to continue to pester me.
I would have to promise to always welcome my mate home with a hug and kiss, to praise a job well done, to kiss him goodnight every single night before sleep, to be patient with his bossy mother, to make spaghetti at least twice a month, to hug him in public often, to never ask him why he is driving in a certain direction or at a certain speed, to come without complaining to view a You Tube video or a joke sent by a friend and to turn out the lights in the room I am not in.

Here is another picture, more current, of FG and BW on that lovely Fall day.

North to Alaska

This is the big glacier responsible for Glacier Bay.

It's dirty now because it's not moving much anymore.

I realize I haven't put a post in about our Alaska cruise with our Mom's. My Mate and I were not sure it was going to be a "good time had by all", but it turned out to be grand. We all had a good time in our own ways. Mate's Mom got to gamble in the casino on board. My Mom got to be waited on hand and foot and to buy some good bargains. Mate got to eat 3 desserts each dinner if he wanted to and I got to take lots of pretty pictures and I saw some wildlife this time.

We had taken an Alaskan cruise a few years back and I guess it was because we didn't have a balcony, we ended up not seeing anything aside from a few dolphins and a couple of whale spouts. This time, slowly cruising through Glacier Bay, we spotted two brown bears swimming from one side of the bay to the other. They were right out in the middle. Maybe they had heard there were better berries on the other side!

This is Marilyn Glacier, a newer, still active glacier.

We saw lots of whales and dolphins and a seal sailing by on a little iceberg. We spent lots of time playing Quiddler in the game room, which had windows across one wall, and that was a great place for seeing animals. The people with tables next to the windows were good spotters. You would think we would see eagles but I see more eagles in Kitsap County. We got to see and hear calving from one of the glaciers in Glacier Bay and that was suprising--it was very loud even though the piece that fell seemed very small. I am told that some people who went up during a rainy time heard lots of calving. The rain might have been a factor.

We enjoyed our Mom's and showing them around some towns we'd been to before, Skagway and Ketchikan, and seeing some things with them that were new to us. We were both happy to get back, though, and be done with "parent sitting". I'm sure the parents in question wouldn't have thought they were being "sat" but it did feel that way to us.

There are more pictures from this trip at my Flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/song_bird/

Ali the Great

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Originally uploaded by Porkbone

My Granddaughter, Ali, has learned to do a somersault. She is only 2 years and 5 months old. I think this shows she is incredibly advanced and talented. She also does stunt "falls", which she rates as OKAY, BAD or EXTREME. I believe the extreme rating means she things the fall is awesome. I'm sure she'll be rating her somersaults soon.

Pulling Myself Together

Continuing with the thoughts of the last post--I think retirement will morph, evolve, change into other purposes in other times. This morning, reading Romancing the Ordinary by Sarah Ban Breathnach, I found this passage about "psychically puttering" , a way of regrouping:

"Writer Judith Thurman offers this: staring at a fire, watching the rain, listening to music, reading catalogs, stenciling a picture frame, fantasizing about an old flame, doing a double-acrostic while drinking an entire pot of expresso, trying to explain oneself telephathically to one's mother, writing a seductively critical letter to a famous novelist that will never get mailed, sorting one's panty hose by color, studying palmistry or ancient Greek, making an evening purse from the scraps of some old silk ties..." Breathnach continues: In other words, doing nothing important to the rest of the world, but something vital for your sanity".

That appears to be the stage of "retirement" I am in at present. Finding pleasure in doing nothing important to the rest of the world. I think I'll go sort my panty hose now.

The Rest of My Life

I am retired. Ta-Da! Before I retired people kepting asking me, "What are you going to DO?!" I could see they couldn't imagine what a person does, all day long, at home. Do they watch TV and eat bonbons? Do they read and eat potato chips? Do they clean house and weed the garden? Do they create something? Do they do art? Do they go back to school? Do they get a part time job? It seemed like a vast unknown to nearly everyone I talked to. I really didn't have an answer for people who asked me what I would DO. I tried, "Have fun". I tried, "Do all those things I've been wanting to do but don't have time for now". I tried being a little more specific and saying, "I'm going to do lots more photography" or "I'm going to take care of my huge garden". That didn't seem to satisfy either. I am thinking that this is more a question they are asking themselves--really not asking me at all. No answer was satisfactory because it was their answer they were looking for.

Well, now that I'm here--in the third week of retirement--my answer is quite clear to me. What I am doing is nearly all of the above, except for the going back to school, unless we are talking about the "school of learning a new camera", and getting a part time job, though this garden is practically a full time job! Yesterday morning I spent a couple of hours getting caught up on the episodes of Lost that I'd recorded and then when I found I'd missed recording the last 2 hour episode, I caught up by going to ABC.com and reading the synopsis (which was remarkably detailed). This seems indulgent to me and I am happy about that. This is something I would NEVER have allowed myself to do during my working life. Not only would I have had to search for a day where devoting a couple of hours in the morning to Lost was possible, I would have been upset with myself for "wasting" time--time that "should" have been spent cleaning floors or washing clothes or ironing work outfits. So, part of retirement is indulgence, perhaps more properly termed "pleasure".

Today I did something I used to envy. Way back, 20 years ago, when I walked from where I parked my car to the building I worked at in Kingston each morning, I used to see a woman walking around her beautiful garden, inside her white picket fence, carrying a cup of coffee, surveying her domain. I imagined she was deciding what needed to be done that day, in the garden or elsewhere in her life. It seemed like such a peaceful and satisfying way to start a day. I have never forgotten it and this morning I performed that same ritual. I surveyed my shabby garden, dreaming of those prunings and weedings and movings that might result in a garden as lovely as the Kingston woman's. I found a ripe tomato, pulled a few weeds, clipped a few straggling old vines and found several spiders to photograph. What a lovely way to start a day. What a pleasure.

I don't have big plans for the day. The plans are small. Do the Tuesday crossword puzzle while I eat lunch. Do a little more weeding it if doesn't rain. Check email, send email to a friend or two. Read some more of my Lisa See book-- about 17th century Chinese women, Snow Flower and Lily. Maybe start catching up with Grey's Anatomy. I'll take my pleasure with the day. This is what I'm DOing in retirement.

Slant

These two lovely ladies were instrumentally helpful in forming a women's group last night. Bookworm wanted to call it Slant, after a line in an Emily Dickinson poem, so Slant it is. I like it. It conjers a way of being, a way of seeing, a way of doing--slant. We drank and ate and laughed and several cried. Seems to me that's just how it should be in a women's group and there seemed to be a very nice level of trust as the women opened up their hearts to each other. There were only 6 of us, with 10 invited, but the 6 that were there seem pretty compatible. I am excited to see where we are in one year, in terms of how well we know each other, what we have done, how we feel about the group. I need this now that I am retiring. I don't want to end up like my mother, who seems content to see me and my Aunt Billie and have that be her whole world. I need more women than that, if only to ask them how to wax my eyebrows! Slant also could be seen as a symbol of moving forward, if the slant is to the right. That is definitely what I am doing--moving forward into the next 25 years.

Stick Me One More Time

Okay….so…..I am now a believer in Acupuncture! I experienced my first session with the Lovely Lori Lee today. I have a stiff, sore neck—maybe a pinched nerve—maybe a painful tense neck the result of tension over sick friends and retirement coming and who knows what else? The fact is it hurts like hell and I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning in such a way as to avoid awful pain like my neck was going to freeze in place or my head was going to snap off and go rolling off my neck and onto the floor.

I needed to do SOMETHING. I tried massage, yoga, Tylenol, Naproxen, hot neck wraps, cold neck wraps, hot showers, more massage, relaxing self-talk, self-massage, stretching, walking, chocolate, cookies, booze—nothing helped. Everybody I knew who had pain or suffering said, go see Lori. The friend with a back so bad she walked hunched over like a very old woman, the dear man friend going through chemo, the dear woman friend with horrible pelvic floor distress, the retired nurse with bad knees, the coworker with a bad hip, all said, go see Lori Lee. I went today.

And I’m here to tell you that Lori Lee not only gives you acupuncture treatment, she gives you caring and she gives you comfort and she gives you a warmed bed and soft music, which Fossil Guy describes as “uneventful” but for me was “transporting” and she gives you 30 minutes of uninterrupted peace. I think that last bit is the best bit. When does a person get a half hour of lying on a warm bed in a quiet room with the lights dimmed and music playing? In my experience that is a very rare phenomenon. Maybe people like Paris Hilton and Elizabeth Taylor and Donald Trump pay thousands of dollars to go to spas for just such treatment, but the likes of you and me don’t often experience it. In my case, this costs me a measly, paltry $15! Good grief, who wouldn’t want to do this? Afraid of needles? Bosh! A little sting, less than a mosquito bite, less than a pinch, way less than a stubbed toe, far less than a paper cut, no comparison to a blood test. And after the needles are in, a blissful half hour to yourself! Go for it Boys and Girls! It’s the best $15 you’ll ever spend. Chiropractic and massage are okay, massage being nicer, I think, but this is Heaven on Earth. Those ancients knew what they were doing. I know, they bound their women’s feet, and there was Tiananmen Square and there have been other indignities to the Chinese people, but they did invent Acupuncture. The best thing since aspirin and it doesn’t upset your stomach.

I am an Action Hero!

You scored as James Bond, Agent 007, James Bond is MI6's best agent, a suave, sophisticated super spy with charm, cunning, and a license's to kill. He doesn't care about rules or regulations and somewhat amoral. He does care about saving humanity though, as well as the beautiful women who fill his world. Bond has expensive tastes, a wide knowledge of many subjects, and his usually armed with a clever gadget and an appropriate one-liner. James Bond, Agent 007 92% Batman, the Dark Knight 83% Lara Croft 75% Indiana Jones 75% Maximus 75% El Zorro 67% William Wallace 67% Captain Jack Sparrow 58% Neo, the "One" 50% The Terminator 42% The Amazing Spider-Man 33% Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com Try it! My mate is going to be astounded because his favorite is James Bond. Now he'll know he married me because I AM BOND!

Right Now

Okay, so.....what's happening right now is that Republican politicos are debating whether Bill Clinton should be allowed in the White House, whether Scooter Libby should be pardoned and whether any one of them will make a good President. A couple days ago we were calling like crazy to vote for Melinda, Blake, Jordan or Lakisha as our next American Idol. Yesterday we recorded CSI on CBS and mourned the fact the Raines seems to have disappeared and so has Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, for sure. NBC is driving us crazy by starting programs 5 minutes late or later so we can't DVD them. This week The Sopranos will air episode 3 of the very, last (sob) season of their wonderful series. This week the sun has come out more that it has in the last two months with only a few sprinkles of rain. Today there is a Mexican potluck to celebrate Cinco De Mayo even though it is only el Cuatro de Mayo and I have made Fossil Guy's famous Jalapeno Pie, which everyone will love providing I have not used too many jalapeno slices. This Sunday my Mate will fly off to Utah to visit his Mom and deal with the Honey-Do list she has prepared for him. Nine days from today my son will be preparing Mother's Day dinner for me, his lovely, dear wife and his mother-in-law, right here in our State! Right now, today and yesterday and the day before, Fossil Guy was reacting to his first chemo session in not a very happy way. Right now he may be wondering if chemo is worth it. Right now I am thinking mostly of him and not much about anything else because, in the scheme of things, the aforementioned things that are happening right now or in a couple of days or last week, this is the one that is affecting me at the deepest level. It's all those other things that are helping me cope with this illness of my friend.