The End of the year

Goodbye 2018.  I've been trying to think of the GOOD stuff this year, as a lot of BAD has happened.  I lost so many people this year, it's not funny.  So.. let's see

Chris and I took a vacation this summer to Utah.  It was really nice to go someplace we hadn't been.  We went for the Utah Shakespeare Festival and saw some amazing performances.  Lisa Wolpe, I will add your Shylock to your Iago as something I will never forget!

We were able to see Henry Ong's marvelous play "The Blade of Jealousy" in full production.  Opening night.  I celebrated turning 60 there.  It was a wonderful day , a terrifically funny play and a lovely party.  Sadly, we lost Henry this year, but his work will live on.

Chris threw me an amazing birthday party.  It was perfect and I hold the memory of that day close to my heart. 

I have amazing friends and every day of this year has reminded me in some way or another just how lucky I am.  I hope I appreciate people to their faces, not just here in my blog.

I read some good books, but alas this morning I can't come up with one I wave in the air and say YOU MUST READ THIS!  I was a wee bit disappointed with "The Library Book" but then I am not a huge fan of Susan Orlean's writing to begin with.

I haven't gone to the movies in ages and I hope this year to be able to do so.  Once I get my new knees and don't need a walker or a scooter, I am hopeful.  The knees will come after the breathing is under control.  We take the first baby steps this week  to see if the problem is really asthma or asthma and something else.  I have that procedure on Wednesday.  Fingers crossed.

Chris bought me a kindle for Christmas.  Now If I can figure out how to download e-books from LAPL, I am set.  I still like regular books a lot.  We will see if this grows on me.

Happy 2019, everyone.  May the new year bring us happiness.  May the changes in this year be good for us all and may we move forward toward a better world.

Merry Christmas

My mother's family came from Germany- at least her father did- and we always celebrated Christmas in more the German than the American fashion.  We opened gifts on Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day the house was open for visiting,  I suspect this was more because my Dad worked in the Food Service  Industry and he wanted to see us open or presents.  He worked graveyard.

When I was married, my ex would not let me do that.  It all had to be HIS way and HIS traditions.  I think a lot of the reason I am not married to him anymore began with the resentment that I felt around the holidays   Long stories and not really meant for airing anyway, suffice it to say, I have less wonderful and more "oh no he didn't" memories.

I wish my kids were coming in and they had planned to stay HOME this year, but I suspect they will be out here over the next few days.  Christmas at my Ex's house is more than likely NOT happening.   His fiance- the woman who worked so hard to break up my crumbling marriage- died on Sunday unexpectedly.  Collapsed in the grocery store.  Is is BAD to say I am having trouble finding any tears for her?  I know they are grieving, but I am not moved.  I never wished her ill, after I ended the marriage, but I never warmed to her either.  They were engaged for fourteen years.  This Summer I told him he ought to just marry her.  Geez..

Hard at Christmas, in any case.

Chris and I will celebrate quietly this evening and then have friends who are family join us for dinner tomorrow.  We are making lasagna.   It's traditional in my family.  If you are hungry and in the neighborhood....  Dinner s is at 4 (lol)

The Size of the Dog in the Fight

I have been sick, no shock to all of you who read this, but I have had bronchitis for over a month and nothing they throw at it seems to knock it down.  As a result, I had to postpone my long anticipated double knee replacement and Christmas this year is NOT the usual  festive celebration.  I don't have the energy.  Sleep?  What's THAT?

On Wednesday, I saw my allergist,; a wonderful guy who is really concerned along with my pulmonologist, about the state of my breathing, or lack thereof.  I told him I thought my immune system was not doing its job.  He agreed and ran some tests.  Turns out my immune system IS on the low end of the spectrum.  Again,   I cried at work and my co-worker with a nursing degree talked me off the ledge.  I am fairly sure that it was all the frustration of my medical condition for the past  several years that FINALLY broke my spirit.  I was as low as I could get.  Another freaking fight to get even close enough to be "normal"  ( I know I' not "normal" - lol) I'm just tired of fighting and the thought of what has to happen, probably again, folded me in on myself.

I am a fighter.  I was born six weeks early in 1958 and was kept in the hospital for a long time until I could hold onto weight ( gee I wish I Still had that problem ;)  )  My mom told people I would probably be institutionalized; they used to warehouse kids on the Spectrum.  I was not and I think I turned out ok, if a bit quirky ( I blame my Dad for that trait)  but I am just drained.

On my way home, I remembered something my Dad told me once.   "It's not the size of the DOG in the fight, it's the size of the FIGHT in the dog"   MY problem is that I am not sure WHERE the fight is going to come from.  Last time I was this sick, I sat out in the sunshine every day for a week and although it is Winter in Los Angeles and those can be sunny days, I am NOT taking a beach chair and bundling up in the courtyard t o catch some rays.  Going to some sunny destination is not in the cards either.

I expect to hear from the doctor today.  I expect more medications and some advice to boost my immune system.  I think I need to take a few days off to rest, but I need to look at my schedule and see when I can really do that.  I will make time for me. I will fight my way back.

I picked up a few good books.  Christmas will be a quite one ( come by  I will be making a HUGE pan of lasagna)  I have fudge!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Since the surgery is postponed and I am feeling MODERATELY better, I am trying to get my Christmas on.  It's hard, I get tired easily and I am on Prednisone.  How I love that stuff.  NOT.  It makes me emotional and easily irritated.  Food tastes bad and I have nightmares that are worthy of Sam Peckinpah.  Waking up shaking every 20 minutes or so does NOT get me the rest I need to heal, but I am doing my best here. I am hoping for surgery in February. Fingers crossed for between the 15th and the 24th.

I have been listening to Christmas music and officially felt old when I had to tell Chris was the "Five and Ten" was in the title song of today's blog.  Oh I LOVED the 5 and 10!  It seemed so... magical.  The 99¢ Store is too sterile. 

I got the Humming Bards CD as an early present and I am LOVING it.  Kevin Fisher and Cindy Alexander combined to make a wonderful treat of original Christmas music.  They sound beautiful together and I look forward to their next project. I MUST admit Cindy is one of my favorite singers, she has- and I hate this cliche but it's true- the voice of an angel. This cd was sold out and I HOPE they are pressing more.  It's THAT GOOD!

I have been trying to get my baking done.  I had a fruitcake DISASTER, as I tried to bake them on a very rainy morning.  They fell in.  I will be doing them again, as I was in the grocery store and actually FOUND the date-bread mix my Mom used as a base. There were TWO boxes .  Those are IMPOSSIBLE to find after November for some reason, but there they were.  I like to think maybe my Mom knew I was sad and she put them there for me to find.

The holidays are harder without her.  I miss her terribly but Christmas is the worst.  I bake, I sing carols and I throw open the doors for company.  I remember Christmases as a child and I know now what she must have done to make them all seem magical.  I hope my Bob has the same magic.  We baked cookies together when I was at Kate's.  Next year I hope to bake more with him.

 We need to slow down and reflect in the Wintertime.

This morning I got up and made a variation of the "Chinese Noodle Candy" that was a recipe of my ex MIL.  I think I make it out of spite.  The candy was my ex-husband's favorite and after eight years of being married to him, I approached her and asked for the recipe.  She actually sniffed at me and said "It'a FAMILY recipe"  I gently pointed out I was married to her oldest son.  She gave it to me.  FAMILY RECIPE my AUNT FANNY!, Family Circle MAGAZINE is more like it.  I can't imagine them carefully packing away the recipe for a candy made of chocolate chips and those crunchy noodles, when fleeing the Old Country.  Oh well.  they are pretty good.


Chris and I bought a tree and will be decorating tonight. I think I am making oatmeal cookies- hoping for the energy otherwise tomorrow morning before work.  I have more energy in the morning.  He wrote out holiday cards and will be mailing them.   I didn't look, I hope he signed BOTH our names!   When I was married to my first husband we had a HUGE list and I asked him to sign a few to take the pressure off me.  I looked. He just signed his NAME, No Happy Holidays from both of us or anything else.  It wasn't a card, it was a legal document.   Sheesh.

If you are reading this, I want to wish you a most joyful holiday, whatever you celebrate.  If I have time I will get into what I think about all that blather about "The War on Christmas" tomorrow!

Happy Anniversary

Although it does not feel like it, Nine years ago today I married my best friend and my love, Christopher.  As I came down the "aisle" on my father's arm,  my crazy friends improvised a wonderful, terrible a Capella version of the Wedding March from Lohengrin ( commonly known as "Here comes the Bride")  It made me laugh and I joyfully joined Chris to say our vows, which were unique, to say the least, as my friend performing the ceremony winged it.

It was a wonderful day.

It does not seem like nine years, but there has been so much that has happened.  Thank you, Chris for standing at my side through everything.  I could not have made it through some of this without you.  You are the most amazing person and I am proud to be your wife.  You calm my heart when you hold my hand.

It's been a wonderful journey. You are my "Happily Ever After"  and I love you.

Today

I want to write something more hopeful than I wrote earlier in the week. I am grateful- EXTREMELY grateful,for the love I received and the encouragement.   I will say this again, I am overwhelmed by the love from my community of friends.  I hope I can and DO return the love you have all shown me.

Today marks 32 years as the Branch Facilities Manager- although it had no such title when I started. Wide-eyed 28 year old me, thinking this was just a stop on the way to something ... bigger.  WHAT, I ask could have been bigger than this?  I was fortunate to fall into something that suited me and my meager talents.  I grew.  My late, and much missed boss, Betsey Hoage once observed that I "created" the position, which I  suppose to some degree, I did.  I found a niche for myself.  I really miss the thrill of moving and opening buildings, but given my current health challenges, I am glad we are NOT doing that now.  I am looking at two years before I retire.  I hope to leave my colleague  filled with the knowledge of how to get it done, so she won't have to reinvent the wheel, as I did. Truth to tell the wheel has changed substantially since that bright October day when I entered the elevator at the then-ARCO towers and rode the express up to the 35th floor .  We used to do everything by hand, the pace was slower. There were 62 branches and two bookmobile units- Chinatown was branch 63, but the Valley Bookmobile was number 62. InnerCity Bookmobile was 91, in case you are wondering...

Things are faster, people expect immediate results.  Sometimes it is possible, sometimes it is not.  I have days when I go home feeling like I really earned my paycheck and some days I feel like I let my co-workers down. It's like any other job, I suspect, but this one has a meaning dearer to me than getting the records straightened out at Rent Stabilization or talking complaint calls at Parking Enforcement ( after we designed the areas, they seriously had NOT thought out what we would do and so I took phone calls)  I like to think this job makes a difference in the Department.  I love my  "peeps" as one of my co-workers calls my folks out there in the branches, and YES I have a real affection for them.  I was told once that I should not care as much as I do.  I can't work like that, hell, I can't LIVE like that. Love is always part f the equation for me.

Stress

I am up early and trying to write, wondering just how confessional I should get this morning.   I have an appointment with my therapist- an emergency one, set up by me and my primary doctor as the stress is starting to cause physiological effects.

I cry at the drop of a hat, I'm crying now.

I have severe chest pains, but my EKG is fine.

It's stress.

I can't walk, which was my go-to for stress relief.  I am trying to get on the exercise bike but even that hurts.

Two things are causing this, I suppose.  One is the #metoo and the Kavenaugh hearings dragged up some crap I THOUGHT I had dealt with- apparently not,  I won't go into details here, I just can't right now, but suffice to say that just because you are in a relationship does not give anyone the right to another person's body,  I remember crying through the assault by someone I trusted and looking at him and seeing he was oblivious to the pain and torment I was going through. He was just taking his pleasure from doing what he was doing.


I am having both knees replaced in December, at least that is the plan.  I will get final clearance from my surgeon but I am in daily pain that makes my life miserable.   I can't enjoy daily things. The pills I take contribute to my weepiness.   I am a hot mess- AND you would not believe the number of people who do not support me.  I have heard a number of "Oh my God, you can't do that'"s  Instead of being supportive, people tell me how bad it's going to hurt. I know they mean well, but I really wish they would stop.  I'm already scared.  It's major surgery, after all.  PLEASE, if you are reading this   don't tell me any more horror stories.  I HAVE to have this done.  Tell me you love me.  Tell me I am strong enough to do this, but DO NOT tell me I can't do this.  It's hard enough to face it, without negative people- some of whom haven't even HAD the procedure- telling me how hard it's going to be.   I have no illusions, but am trying to get my head in the game.

 Fear means Face Everything And Rise.   I need to take that to heart.

Henry Ong

There is an Irish saying, that tears shed here speed a soul's progress to heaven.  Last night, so many of us were weeping, but I don't think Henry needed our tears to pass into whatever plane awaits us when we leave this one.

He was one of the good ones.

I met Henry almost 30 years ago, when he was a PR specialist at the LA Public Library and I was doing... what I am still doing.   I had no idea that my sweet funny co-worker was on his way to becoming a world renowned playwright.  He must have been working on Madame Mao's Memories then.  I lost track of him but we reconnected at some point, I think when a play he was asked to write for local deaf students was presented. Chris and I were able to see readings and performances of his work. I loved his adaptation of "Nina Balatka" I remember how happy he was to see us at the original reading of The Blade of Jealousy at UCLA.  We saw it again at a reading to try to get investors and finally, I celebrated my 60th birthday at a full stage production on Opening Night this past June.  Henry was glowing, as he usually was. 

I am glad he got to produce his Magnum Opus, "The Dream of the Red Chamber", doing a Chinese street theater style version of it in a park. He even gave me and Chris a few lines to read to be part of it.  I was still recovering from pneumonia at that point and I was tiring easily, so we only were able to stay for one act.  I really wanted to see more.  It was classic Henry Ong, with great characters and silly little asides, much like Henry himself.   When I first met him, he would walk up to a group of us, look at us and ask if we had seen someone who was standing in the group.  It became a "bit" and he would always act shocked that the person was right there.  He could be so silly.

My first thoughts on hearing of his passing were of his husband, Matthew.  The love between them was palpable.  Word fail me here. 

 Henry, I'm sorry I never got to love Trollope the way you did.  Maybe I should give the old boy another shot.   I am sorry we never got to have that dinner here at Casa Myers.  I make a wicked vegan curry.  This week, I will make it to share and talk about you. You are not really gone; just "hiding behind a pillar"  Your work will continue to be performed and enjoyed.  I love you, Henry Ong.

Writing or lack thereof

Recently, I got a call from my Alma Mater, asking me to donate $100 to the school.  I could do it quarterly, so I said "Why not?"  even in these economic times, I think I can swing $25 every three months.

I got a gracious letter from the Dean of Humanities ( I have a degree in English, as I am fond of pointing out, which means I can quote Chaucer while asking if you would like fries with that.)  She invited me to contact her assistant and arrange a tour and lunch.  Seriously, I would be ashamed to have such attention for a measly $100, which was the point, I suppose.  They would probably get more money out of me if I went so,  no.

In talking to the Poly Sci major who solicited me ( good training if you are going to work in politics, right?)  I talked about what I was involved in at CSUN.  It's been a long time, but she made me remember working on the school literary magazine, then called "Angel's Flight"  She said she had never heard of it. That made me sad, but I looked it up. They still DO one, it's just called something else- the Northridge Review, I think.

As I looked at things regarding Angels' Flight, there was a lot of it I remember differently.  Time smooths things over, I suppose,

The Editor ( who was listed as the founder, but that's just BS) was a woman I disliked. She didn't care for me either, but I was "allowed" to stay and work because they needed bodies.  I had worked on literary magazines in High School and college and had initially hoped to be some kind of editor ( I was good at it, even if I CAN'T edit my own stuff worth a tinker's dam)  She was killed in a car accident the summer between my junior and senior year, which she had prophetically written about in a poem called "Premonition"  She was older than I was and I think she was going for her doctorate.  After her death,  all of her mean girl behavior- and she was for all intents and purposes a mean girl- were swept under the rug.  I believe we dedicated the next edition of the magazine to her, fitting and proper even if she were not a nice person.  In the minds of a few she was a saint and a brilliant poet and her loss was mourned all over the poetry world.   I remain neutral. Maybe because I knew and disliked her, I failed to see that she was this brilliant wordsmith everyone talks about.  I tried to re-read some of her things recently and still feel her work was average, as mine was.  I have to be honest with myself.  I enjoy writing, but poetry is a minuscule market and you have to be dazzlingly brilliant to be a working poet.  It is a craft I enjoy and I may go back to work at it,just for myself.  I love the feeling of finding just the right word to express what I am feeling.  I try to use as few words as I can to convey the emotion.  It's a puzzle, but I enjoy the process.

I am not going to take the Dean up on her gracious offer. It would feel wrong to me. One of these days, I will go back to the Campus and see the changes. I graduated in 1980.  The 1994 earthquake reshaped the school and I wonder if I will miss the old campus or delight in the new ones.  I should visit the Oviatt Library I practically lived there my last semester.  It has been renovated, something I know a bit about.  We'll see.

Labor Day

Some people think of Labor Day as the "end of Summer" holiday.  As a kid, I din't understand the significance of the labor movement.  Some people still don't.

There was a guy on a local page complaining that the trash wasn't going to be picked up on Monday because "they are celebrating their holiday"  I wanted to say something to him, but sometimes it's better to let sleeping dogs lie on those community pages, but here is what I SHOULD have said:

Look, buddy, Labor Day celebrates how the labor movement improved working conditions for ALL of us in this Country.  Labor Unions helped create weekends off, the 8-hour work day, child labor laws, workers compensation, just to name a few.  It helped move forward the idea of a minimum wage- a living wage.

I benefit from my Union job, sure, but everyone benefits from the work those early Labor Unions did to improve working conditions in this country. 

So as the final Cookout of the summer wound to a close in yesterdays sunset, I wonder how many people raised a glass to the struggles of Labor and celebrated to working class on the first Monday in September?

August 29. Again

My mom once told me she was glad her mother did not die around a holiday.  She said she couldn't remember the exact date and it was easier not to have the date remind her of her loss.

I can't seem to do that.

My mother died on August 29, 2004 after a courageous battle with Alzheimer's  My brilliant, funny loving mother slipped away piece by piece for four years. The pain of that still causes my throat to close and the tears to burn my eyes. 

I miss her terribly.  That really goes without saying but since I am typing it, I am putting it out there.

I think of her when I am in the kitchen, having coffee in the morning.   I think of her when I try to balance my bank statements.  She pops into my mind at the oddest times.

Recently at work, there was a challenge to post your prom picture.  I posted one of me in the beautiful satin dress she made me.  It was the most elegant thing I had ever worn.  She fussed over the slippery material for a week, getting it just right.  It fit me like a glove. The memory of that time is precious to me.  Every day I would come home and she would come home from work and she would fit me.  It took several adjustments to get it right.  It was lovely and no one else had "my" dress.  When I went to the prom my senior year, someone had a cape made of the same material as the dress she made me for that dance- it was he dress I wore as a bridesmaid in my sister's wedding four months before.

My mom loved to sew.  She used to make all our clothes.  I think it was her relaxation.I did not get that gene.  I knit ( and still make her slipper pattern when I can) crochet, embroider and needlepoint, but I hate sewing.  Sorry Mom.

So, if I seem a bit weepy or far away today, please excuse me.   I'm missing my mom. If you still have yours, give her an extra hug or a phone call. She's a gift you will miss when she is gone.

Shakespeare, Utah, road trips and home.

We head for home today after  a week of travel and fun.

We had a blast at the Shakespeare Festival  IF we were to do it again, I would probably try to go to the lectures, but this vacation was more about sleep and Shakespeare than Shakespeare alone.

The Merry Wives of Windsor was pleasant enough, well acted but I really don't care for musicals where the music is inserted for no good reason. i like MUSICAL THEATER, were the music advances the plot, but Not where they just dropped in period songs to give it flavor.  They should just use it as transitional pieces, not have the entire ensemble come out from every corner to sing.   It made the play overlong.

We were delighted to spend time with our friend Lisa and have dinner with some of the other members of the Company.  It was probably one of the best times on the trip- certainly the FOOD was terrific.  A nice relaxing hour!

I seriously underestimated the cost of food and even with looking at the prices often had a sense of sticker shock when the bill arrived.  It's ok.  We gambled less than we thought we would so we SHOULD be going home with money.  The thing is  NONE of the food was WOW that's amazing- except the cheese bar at the Bellagio.  I ate too much cheese.

I like the people at Bally's best.  They are super friendly and helpful.  The original bellman was an 81 year old man who was in better shape than most 50 year olds.  He was quite funny as well, and he said he used to drive for Mayor Yorty, he laughed when I remembered the nickname "Traveling Sam'

We are off to eat at a buffet, gamble a bit and then head for home.  Work tomorrow.  I kind of wish we had one more day, but I am sure I have a ton of emails waiting for me.  Sigh.

It's been a wonderful trip.

The Merchant of Venice

We are at the Utah Shakespeare Festival.  The venue replicates the Old Globe Theater and very nice and comfortable ( as I am fairly sure the Old Globe wasn't)

Last night, we were treated to  an amazing performance of The Merchant of Venice.  This play is lumped into Shakespeare's "comedies"  but if this is a comedy I failed to see it.  Sure, there were moments of comic relief, but what was happening on stage was certainly no laughing matter.

I understand that the play was written at the request of Essex who wanted to sway public opinion after he murdered Elizabeth's Jewish physician.  It probably worked.  Looking at it with a modern eye. I found no one to like, except the person you are supposed to loathe, Shylock.

Shylock is played to aching perfection by Lisa Wolpe. She completely embodies the anguished money-lender in every nuance.  I need to stop using the word "amazing" and move on to "bone-Chilling" and "awe-inspiring" It was every bit of that.  I found myself weeping at the conclusion of the play.

It is difficult to single out any other performers, Kyle Bullock, playing Bassanio, brings passion to the role and Betsy Mugavero  as Nerissa was delightful to watch as her role played across her expressive face.

I loved how they tied scenes together with vocalists singing musical lines. It made the transitions between the scenes smoother.

A lot of people left at intermission, and I can't help but wonder if they thought the play was over.  Either that or the subject matter was NOT the light comedy they were expecting ( read the synopsis folks!)  In any case,they missed a stellar performance of the denouement court scene.  I admit I was trying- and failing- not to cry.

This stayed with me and I will continue to mull it over in my mind over the next few weeks.  Tonight is Henry VI  a play I know NOTHING about!

staying in hotels

We are on vacation and our first stop is Las Vegas.  I'm over Vegas, frankly.  I'm getting too old for the lights and the noise and being in a scooter, the transportation situation is a hassle.

We are staying at the Park MGM, simply because we got a great deal.  The hotel used to be the Monte Carlo, which I can't remember ever going to, although I must have at some point.

For lack of a more eloquent word, this hotel is weird.

Let me start with the rooms.  The windows are smallish and are covered with an ugly olive green shade.  I LIKE green, it's my favorite color but this thing is the color of army uniforms in the 50's.  The accent wall is a dull forest green.  The effect is unpleasant.The lamp is placed off center to anything.  It looks like an afterthought.  The cord is tacked to the wall, after it wraps around what looks like an old spool for cloth-wrapped wiring.  it ends up in brass colored conduit that is affixed with rounded fittings that are screwed to the wall on one side.  Chris says it's Steampunk, but I disagree.  A Steampunk lamp would be metal.  this thing is a cloth monstrosity that looks like the top of my mothers cake pan, rendered in cloth.  It is ugly,

The artwork on the walls looks like someone's bad vacation photos and their untalented children's art projects.   The postcards in the bathroom looked like they were framed at Target.

The bathroom had a sink that is square and completely flat.  it did not drain without help.  The "handicapped" shower has a seat and grab bars in a very small tub.  The room is huge but the sink and tub look like they were designed for rooms half the size.  You could hold a square-dance in the empty space.

I guess if you are staying more than one day, they do not clean your room.  At all.   I like to have the room freshened, the trash taken out, the bathroom wiped down, new soap, the bed remade.   I make my bed at home! I wound up taking the full trash out to the common trash can in the elevator lobby.  Someone told me I should call housekeeping, but in the past that has never worked out.  We will see if this is a trend at our next stop, in Cedar City.  We are going to the Shakespeare Festival

The good stuff- there was a nice pool and Jacuzzi which I enjoyed for a bit until I remembered I hadn't put sunscreen on  and given that  I JUST had something removed, I went inside.    If you go to the Aria Cafe, look for  a waiter named Bobby. He's a delight!  There is a free tram between the Park, the Aria and the Bellagio, which made going to eat easier.  Chris and I BOTH have scooters.  They charge an arm and a leg for parking, so we left the car in valet for the entire time.  I think the "ransom" may be steep, but worth it.

Thinking about surgery

Today I am going to see the surgeon.  I am ready, well sort of, to get my knees replaced. Both of them need to be done and I am looking at doing it in one fell swoop.

Here's what's going on in my head:

I am SICK SICK SICK of people who haven't HAD the surgery telling me how much this is going to hurt. It's  SURGERY.  they CUT into you   THAT EQUALS PAIN.  I get it.  What galls me is that people want to tell me something they haven't experienced and put the thought to the forefront.

I know it will hurt, but frankly it's probably not as bad as people say.

I had my gallbladder taken out about 20 years ago.  Sure that hurt but it was manageable after a day or two.  They gave me pain pills and I followed instructions and within a week was up and cooking meals.

Am I afraid of this?

Yes.

Am I doing this anyway?

Yes.

I want to be able to walk unassisted.

I want to dance at Bob's wedding- admittedly Bob is not quite four and I'll probably be in my 80's when he DOES get married but a goal is a goal.

I want this constant pain GONE.

I need to remind myself of two things; a line from a James Taylor song "It's ok to feel afraid, but don't let that stand in your way" and "FEAR means Face Everything and Rise"

I will have loving support as I face this journey.  I need to keep my eye on the result, not the process. I'm going to get through this just fine.

Confessions

Don't tell my wine loving friends.


I like Moscato.


I know, the movement in the Wine Snob circles is that the ONLY type of wine to drink is red  Cabernet, in particular but Red, Red Red. If you MUST drink white only a Chardonnay will do.

But in the Summer, I love a cold cold glass of Moscato.  Call me a rebel.  I used to love- and still do- a nice Blanc de Blanc.  But Moscato tastes like Summer on your tongue.  None of that heavy  full body of a red. I DO like red wine when having pasta with red sauce,but this is Summer, so I am secretly ( well not so secretly now) enjoying my guilty pleasure.

Moscato.

Scoff if you will.  I was always more of a white wine drinker than a red. People enthuse over red wine in a way I cannot.  Funny, because every month, my Wine of the month club delivers two to three bottles of.. you guessed it... RED WINE. I wonder if there is a way to go on and change my preference?  I should look into that.  I currently have enough red wine in the cupboard to last me  until the next Ice Age.  I don't have a wine locker, I KNOW  SHAME ON ME

At Thanksgiving I LOVE the pairing of Gewurztraminer with turkey.  Something about the oak-y,yet fruity flavors are the best thing to me. Goes with ham too.

So, anyone want to come over and have a glass or two or three of the red wine?

Come early if you want the Moscato!

Music is playing in side my head Over and over and over again

ok, so the title of this post is actually a line from Carole Kin's song "Music'  The past few mornings, I have woken up with music playing in my head, "The Summer Wind" from Frank Sinatra,  "Lazy Days of Summer" by Nat King Cole ( which I think I misremember and now will have to look up the lyric) and this morning "You've got your troubles, I've got mine"  I have no idea who sang that. hang on...

The Fortunes.  Never heard of them- except for this song.

I looked up why this is happening. the theory is that you heard the song lately and it gets stuck in your head.  I don't have a clock radio, so I don't have music in the morning and with the exception of Lazy Days of Summer, which came up in a discussion in the local Italian deli this weekend.  I have NO clue why these two older songs were playing in my head when I opened my eyes.

"The Summer Wind" is wistful and maybe I am feeling nostalgic.  But "You've got your troubles"?  No clue.

I read an article about it, looking to see what I could understand about the phenomenon .The term they use is earworm, although I was hoping for a more clinical term.  Earworm makes me think of that Star Trek film where the villains put a worm in the ears of two crew members to make them talk - or control them or something I just remember the worm..  In any case, it's an unpleasant vision.  The article referenced several songs that get stuck in most people's heads  "My Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga and Don't stop Believin'" by Journey.  I can't say either has ever been rolling around my brain with no hope of an exit.  I don't want to think more about the ones that have, for  fear they will reappear and get stuck again.

The article DID offer a piece of advice on how to get a song unstuck.  Chew a piece of gum.  Now if THAT isn't ironic, I don't know what is.

I'll try it though, the next time Muskrat Love gets on a never-ending loop.

Things I don't understand

I was in an elevator with a person with open toed BOOTS.  Boots.   Let that sink in.  I don't understand.  For me, boots are cold weather shoes, made to keep your feet snug and warm in the cold and to keep the rain off your tootsies.

It got me thinking.

As I grow older ( but no wiser, as the song says) I look at things on the internet and shake my head.  Sometimes I need a millennial to explain things, so here are some of them:

Fur fingernail covering

Eating Tide Pods

Piercing your ears so the lobes stretch like something I saw in National Geographic in the 60s

Facial tattoos

Twitter

Wanting so desperately for a return to the 1950's style America that you believe the constant and inconsistent lies of a con man, who was falsely elected and continues to vilify about 3/4 of the American people.

I don't know about you, but if I were FALSELY  accused of a crime and someone were hired to investigate, I would be doing all I could to provide help  to that person to PROVE my innocence, not name calling and stonewalling.

If I didn't lie on them ( and I don't), I would  have no problem releasing my tax returns, if it is a requirement for the job ( like.. oh.. the long form of my birth certificate.)

Thinking that the color of your skin or the zeros in your bank account somehow make you a better person than the next guy.

Maybe one day I will understand all of this, but life is a journey and as my Dad used to tell me, if you stop learning, you stop growing.

Will someone please explain the fashion statement of belting your pants BELOW your butt so I see your underwear???

Farewell

I try to never say "Rest in Peace"


It's hard
when you reach the age
where you go to more funerals
than weddings
see more deaths
than births.

I try not to dwell on the sorrow
but on the joy of someone's life

Today
I will try to remember
that she loved elephants
she had a small exquisite collection
on her desk
crammed with photos of her children
and her grandchildren
That she was a joy
That she smiled with her entire face
That she was loved
and that she was my friend.

I hope heaven has elephants to love

42

No Not Jackie Robinson's number, although I was thinking of Jackie yesterday as I looked  at the excellent photo collection on display on Lower Level four ( History) in the building I work in.  Central is not "My" building, I just work there.  My responsibility- at least for the moment- is the 72 branches of the Los Angeles Public Library.

No, it was 42 years ago today that a wide-eyed eighteen year old me started work in the Pacoima Library.  I couldn't believe my luck.  Here was a JOB in the library, great pay, vacations, holidays and sick pay.  I was making the princely sum of $3.33 an hour!  To put in on perspective, most of my friends were making around $1.85 and working with grease fryers.  Not that those were bad jobs, but man was I lucky!

I loved that job.

I am looking at working for two years, two and a half months more.   I don't know.  Lately work has been not as satisfying as it once was and I often feel like I am working in a war zone instead of an office.  My friend Pauline, who will probably read this will tell me AGAIN, that I should retire and how wonderful retirement is.  I know, Pauline, I just have always had it in my head to make 40 years.  There's an opening at the Department of Cannabis- yeah it's a real thing- I wonder if that might not be better.  I don't know.

I am hoping that once my knees are replaced and getting around is not so hard, I might have a new perspective or my old pep back. I have graduated to the walker.  It is a wonderful walker but I HATE having to use it.  It's "for now' not "forever", right?

 Sorry to be Debbie Downer.  Some days are like that and getting it out of my head and onto the virtual paper of this blog has helped me think.  My therapist ( yes, I have someone I talk to who listens and guides me to make choices to improve things) says writing it down might be the best way for me to deal with things.  After all, although I am not a published writer ( unless you count the poem I wrote that went in the newspaper when I was seven) Writing is my "art"

I have about 830 calendar days util the day I THINK will put me at 40.  I need to log on to the City Retirement calculator and see what it tells me.  I have a few legal issues that need to be cleared up.  All parties have agreed, it's just the paperwork and the lawyers fees at this point. Once THAT is done, I can seriously look at what retirement will look like for me.

Funny, this started out as a celebration of achieving 42 years with the City of LA.  I never really know where these blogs will go.  They are, mostly, an unplanned and unvarnished look at what is going on in my brain after the first jolt of coffee hits it.  ALMOST  like Victorian "automatic writing, but not quite  ( I do try to go back and edit for some sort of clarity)

Thanks for riding with me.

Float

My good friend Christine is always finding these odd places to go and I love to tag along because aside from the fact that I love Christine ( and her son Lennon and, yeah Max I love you too) she goes places I would NEVER think of, much less go to.

Case in point?  Float. It is JUST what you think it might be; a private chamber in which to float.  I kept remembering the movie "Altered States"  where Jeff Bridges has a weird experience in a flotation tank and goes nuts ( really I can't remember the plot, I just remember that someone I knew ran screaming from the theater when she went to see it- the plot remains vague)

Anyway, Float is one of those new age-y places, all that soft music that seems to be a collection of squeaks and hums.  The people were very nice as they explained the process. You have a private room, strip to your birthday suit, shower using their soap and shampoo- but NOT the conditioner which you use after, them get into the tub of saltwater ( you enter the chamber thru a door that reminded me of a submarine door) and float.  There are lights to begin with , but they slowly fade and you float around in total darkness.  If you need lights there is a button to keep them on, but I wondered how you would know time was  up if you did that so float in the dark I did.  Truth to tell I was kind of bored and at one point bounced a bit off the side of the tub to change things up.  I tried some guided imagery meditation and that helped pass the time.  The lights came back up and I got out.  I showered and dressed quickly.  I kept having this image of them unlocking the door to tell me my time was up and finding me in my all-together.  They did not.

Floating is supposed to help you sleep and they say one session may not help.  They try to up sell you  a year.   Not happening.  My sleep was no better and no worse that it had been, but it WAS worth a try.

I think I should open a place called "Nap"  You get those great big soft beds like they have in fancy hotels, with big soft pillows and those white comforters that keep you cozy, but neither too hot or too cold.  The rooms would have those blackout shades like Cameron Diaz had at her house in The Holiday ( look it up, it's fun romantic comedy).  You get soft music or a book for ten minutes them the lights all go out (except maybe a night light, just in case)  You are offered comfy jammies and the sheets are that t-shirt material or high tread-count cotton ( you can choose your package!) You can nap for an hour or two if you paid for two but an hour is what experts say is best.  The bedding, including pillows and comforters are changed COMPLETELY with every guest; no weird wondering who slept there before you as I sometimes do in hotel rooms.

Wadda ya think?  Would you use a place like "Nap"?

"There's always Pizza"

It's Father's Day, and all over the internet is the question "what did you learn from your Dad?'  My short answer "There's always Pizza"

Let me explain.

 My Dad was a cook and I got the cooking gene from him.  I enjoy cooking and find it relaxing after a long, stressful day at work.  Maybe it's the act of chopping things into little bits or pounding meat flat.  Maybe it's the comforting smells ( when I can smell anything, due to a BAD head injury about 20 years ago, my sense of smell comes and goes).  Maybe it's having family and friends who are family around my table.  I don't know but..

When my Dad was alive and I would visit, we would head to the grocery store. I would make a few meals, some to eat and some to "put by" in his freezer for later.  I think he appreciated the home cooked meals, but sometimes things wouldn't turn out the way I wanted them to. I'd be swearing up a storm and he would look at me and say "don't worry, there's always pizza"  At the time I thought it was the fact that Little Cesar's was right across the highway and you could get a cheese pie ( the ONLY kind he ate) for about 5 bucks.  But after he died, I realized it was kind of a philosophy.

If you screw something up, or if things don't go as planned, you can always find another option.  You might not have planned on pizza for dinner, but it's always there. 

Sometimes, when things aren't going the way we planned, my husband will look at me and say "well, there's always pizza" and we will laugh. 

Thanks, Dad.  There really IS always pizza.

Suicide, Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade

This week suicide has been in the news, with the deaths of two very successful people who chose to end their lives.  We do not know, and can never really know, what drove them to this final act.

There is a lot of speculation,especially when it comes to Kate Spade.  She had acknowledged mental illness and according to all reports was seeking help.  It just wasn't enough.  Sometimes, it seems to be the only answer.

I read somewhere that suicide does not end the pain, it only transfers it. In the case of Kate Spade, the anger and frustration of her family in grief is spilling out in a very public way.  She had a young daughter.  I hope for her sake the finger pointing will stop and the drawing together will begin.  Her daughter is going to need help.  It is the living, not the dead, that need us now.

I saw on the Facebook page of a friend a post from a vegan woman, celebrating the death of Bourdain, as if she herself were personally responsible for harassing him  to death. Excuse me for missing the point of Veganism, but I guess compassion (in her case) ONLY extends to animals and the human race be damned. I wanted to say to her "Honey, get off your high horse. Anthony Bourdain probably didn't know who you were"  If he left a note, we may know the why.  Speculation is he had a serious medical condition. I didn't want to get into it with her.  She sounded fanatical and with anyone who is in that frame of mind, there is no discussion to be had. Their minds are sealed shut.  Please don't rag on me if you are vegan.  I am NOT saying anything about veganism, just this one woman who seems to think that his death is a victory of some sort.  She made me ill.

The recent suicides have created a rash of postings of the suicide prevention hotline.  All well and good, but hat may not work for everyone.  I saw a post that made me think "If you thought of someone when you saw the news of suicide, please reach out to them to make sure they are ok."  Good idea. Mental health in this country is a dirty secret, as if the Puritan ethic remains a core part of our character.  The Puritans were psycho in my book.  If you are sad and thinking the world would be a better place without you, or that the pain is too much to bear, I hope you can talk to someone. There is no shame in seeking help.  The strongest people need a hand sometimes.

Memorial Day

This is Memorial Day weekend.   I worked Saturday and my co-workers were all talking about Barbecue and where best to get it. As a result on Saturday, I was jonesing for BBQ and wound up getting it at our local place, where for a brief time in the late 70's, my Dad worked.  Saturday would have been my Dad's 98th birthday and I would have visited the cemetery, but it IS Memorial day and probably a real zoo,  I am not as patient at large crowds and traffic jams as I used to be.

But I have been thinking about those conversations over work on Saturday, what people were going to do with their three days off ( two and half since we were all working Saturday morning)  Some people talked about BBQs some talked about sleeping in. I thought about the mountains of cleaning I needed to do in preparation for a friend's overnight visit.  My back bedroom is really a storage area these days.  Sigh. We did get a lot sorted and tossed and ready to donate to the Vietnam Veterans. Still I can't help circling back to this day and it's meaning:

For a lot of people Memorial Day has lost its' true meaning.  Is it another long weekend?  the start of Summer? the Indy 500?  Well all of those things happen and are partial true, but I am working hard to bring to mind the real reason for this "holiday",  it is to remember those who died in service to this country.  It is not a day to thank service members for their service. The day set aside for THAT is Veterans Day in November or Armed Forces Day on the 3rd Sunday in May.  Truthfully ANY day is a good day to thank service members for their service, but THIS day honors the memory of those who gave the ultimate sacrifice.

In the 70's, people wore bracelets with the names of POW's in the Vietnam war, to bring attention to their plight and to remember every day the person who was a prisoner.  I was against the war, but wanted to honor the people who were caught in between. My bracelet had the name  Captain Clifford  Fieszel. I wore it and when it broke I got a replacement with his name.  He was a pilot who was shot down. The Vietnamese said the had captured him, but there was never any proof and he never came home . His name is on the wall, and there is a grave in his memory, but he was never found.  I think of him and others like him, this Memorial Day.  As they lay a wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown, I think of families who never knew the fate of their loved ones and of families who buried family coming home in a flag draped coffin. 

This is a solemn holiday; one for reflection and prayer.  Sure, have that BBQ , but take a moment today to thank those who died in service to this county to make what we have possible.

Weird "Movie" dreams

Occasionally, I have these dreams that are like watching a movie. I am in them, playing a character.  I am certainly not me.

Last night's dream was fun. In it, Tom Hanks was playing my father. I was a teenager with a little sister.  Tom tell us all to pack for Paris.  Tom is a writer who is really an international spy and we are going to Paris for a few days.  He is bringing us for 'cover" as he needs to meet with another spy. He tells us to pack enough for two days.  At some point in the trip I begin to worry I have not packed enough of the right clothes and enough underwear.  I comfort myself with the thought that I probably packed at least one pair and can wash them out in the sink if I need to ( ok I TOLD you this was a weird dream). We fly in the front of a commercial airline, but there is no pilot .  My "Mother" complains she hates flying like this. apparently this is normal. We get to our room.  Tom send me and my little sister out shopping, but my purse is not big enough so I look in the hotel closet and find a metal lunchbox like we used to carry in elementary school.  It is big enough.  Tom insists I pack a hammer in the lunchbox, just in case.  I head out and I am laughing as I have read what the spies have written about my "father" Tom.  They are very convinced he cannot type.  This seems to be an important piece of information and I think it's very funny as he is a writer ( and Tom owns a bunch of antique typewriters)  I come back and Tom introduces me to my "cousin"  we are going to a fancy dinner and she lends me a white wool skirt and top for the occasion.  She also gives me a white stuffed bunny.  Dinner is uneventful, but I leave the bunny at her home when we leave.  It explodes.  It turns  out the cousin is a spy for the other side. 

My alarm went off at this point.  I enjoy  the movie dreams quite a bit.  They are much better than the nightmares I have been having.  Maybe the dream catcher we hung over the bed is working.  I am AMAZED at the number of people who have them tied to the rear-view mirror of their CARS. Are you SLEEPING while driving.  Sometime, I think they must be, if you read my last blog!

Thoughts while driving

I work downtown.  It takes me about an hour to get to work and about an hour and a half to get home.  I have no idea why, except the one-way streets and all the construction make for a longer commute OUT of the City than into it.  Weird. 

I have been driving downtown for almost 32 year- give or take, longer than that if I add in the two years I worked at CDD.  I  took the train and the subway for several years but that doesn't really work with where I am living and taking the subway took a lot longer than driving and I really was't saving money, so back behind the wheel.

I have had my license since I was 17.  This is LA   the car culture is everything.  I drove my mom's candy apple red Maverick, when she could spare it.  She loved that car. They bought me a VW when I started college. it was named Hans Joachim or HA Jot for short.  After a while I nicknamed it Hansel, as it left a trail of oil wherever it went.  Sigh. It leaked so much, I carried a case of oil and a spout in the back seat.  I could stop and a stop light, open the motor compartment and add oil before the light changed. PIT CREW!

When I started driving, my mom told me to drive like everyone had just been released from the insane asylum.  Good advice, even more so today, where drivers act like they are the only car on the road.  My favorite types are:

The luxury car driver who thinks he owns the whole road

The Uber or Lyft driver who parks in the rush hour lanes and puts their blinkers on like they are broken down and NOT waiting for a fare

The driver who cuts you off THEN signals to indicate they have JUST CUT YOU OFF

The driver who tailgates you in rush hour traffic, as if you could magically make the traffic go away. HEY BUDDY there's a car in FRONT of me.  I usually move over and watch them tailgate that car.

The driver who sees the long line of cars trying to turn right but races to the front of the line and plays chicken with you. 

The driver who knows the lane next to you is going to end or exit the freeway, but jumps OUT of that line and races around to try to get ahead of everyone in the lane he was in.  Way to go, you just got two cars ahead of me.  Congratulations.

As near as I can tell, I have about 900 more days of this excitement before I retire and stop driving downtown. I WILL say this. Commuter drivers are easier to deal with than the Average Driver who is going somewhere on the weekend and encounters traffic. Those drivers get angry and confused and are much more unpredictable and road ragey  than people who do this for a living, so to speak.

I'm off to get in my car. Thank GOODNESS for Pandora and books on CD!

Soft Power

My friend Judith had an extra ticket to see Soft Power at the Ahmanson.  I had seen the lamppost banners, as I pass the Music Center every day as I go to work, but knew nothing about the play itself and it had no local buzz.  I accepted because ( in no particular order) I  love theater and I don't get to go that often;  I like seeing Judith and it was a chance to catch up and; she has amazing seats and how often do you get to enjoy something from the front row? 

Soft Power is defined as a persuasive approach to international relations, typically involving the use of economic or cultural influence.  This play was part play, part musical.  It was nothing short of amazing.  Frankly, the description of the play made me think it was going to be a drag- something like a Chinese film producer comes to America and falls in love with the President Hillary Clinton.  WAY OFF.  The play does concern a relationship between the producer, Xue Xing and Mrs. Clinton but it's really much more than that. It is VERY political and critical of the current Administration, "Dear Leader" in particular.  My takeaway was that although the direction this country is going is bad- the environment, education and our relations with other counties is in the dumpster, in my opinion- Democracy is STILL the best way to go. We should NOT give up, just because those in power  seem to have all the power. The play makes the point that counties in power are exerting "soft power" on other nations to get what they want.  Our country seems to just want to blow things up.  

Due to horrendous traffic, we were late to the theater and missed the first twelve minutes, except there IS a monitor in the bar and you can watch the show from there so we DID get the gist of the premise. When we did get in, our seats are near the aisle so it wasn't TOO intrusive and we moved quickly- I noticed that the man sitting two seats away was SOUND asleep and snoring to beat the band ( literally, at one point during the pause he let out a RIP of a snore that could be heard all over the theater)  He and his seat mate were NOT impressed with the play, his seatmate grousing to us in the elevator that they needed to "go back to page one and re-write the whole thing"  I thought it was wonderful  The cast was terrific. If you go, look for a nod of the cap to "The King and I" and Aaron Copland ( I think one of the dance sequences was from Appalachian Spring, but it COULD be Oklahoma, I am unsure)  The entire cast, except for two characters whose race HAD to be non-Asian- were Asian.  

I thoroughly enjoyed the play and recommend it.  

Hard to write, hard to breathe

It's been something of a Mr Toad's Wild Ride lately and NOT in a good way.  Once again, my asthma is winning the battle, but I am determined.  My doctors and I started a new regimen with the meds and things seem to be easing.  Time will tell.

About two weeks ago, I got the tragic news that my friend and former boss, Betsey Hoage, had died suddenly. I am still in shock.  I think that most people already know this, but she had acute leukemia.  We don't think she had been diagnosed and had no symptoms.  I will miss her, but I think she had a good life; a career she loved, friends who were like family, she traveled to exotic places, she LIVED.  We have been sharing stories about her, to remember is to ease the pain, isn't it?  I know that when she was my boss, I always felt valued- like my opinion had weight even if I weren't a librarian ( I can't tell you how many people I worked with thought I must be a raging idiot because I don't have an MLS .)  We would joke about things, she was always bringing in something she had baked and when she went on trips would bring back little souvenirs for the staff.  She was thoughtful and creative.  She made the most beautiful quilts.  Bob was the recipient of one such lovely giraffe themed work of art.  My daughter Kate wrapped her newborn son in it.  Kate treasures it.

When someone dies suddenly, you realize all the things you meant to do with them or say to them.   I am going to try NOT to leave kindness unspoken, try to HAVE those meals, drink that beer, or tea or coffee. If I say "Let's get together, I am going to pull out my calendar and SCHEDULE it with you.  No more "one day"  One Day is NOW!

Chris and I are back from our road trip and as soon as I can figure out what happened to my "Stuff you can Stomach" page ( they "improved" it and I can't figure out how to POST on the darn thing) I will be sharing the "wisdom" of places to eat and places to avoid in Las Vegas!

Poem

It's  April, National Poetry Month so here goes;


I remember that Summer
I must have been eight
jammed into the back seat
of my parents Nova
with my sister and the red metal cooler
filled with root beer
and real beer
for impromptu stops
on the side of the road

We stopped once
at a roadside cafe
we hoped would have hamburgers
and a bathroom
but it was closed
and the desolate
abandoned look of the place
Still  makes me wonder how long it had been closed
and if they owners just walked away from it
we stood on the wooden porch
a very long time
as if
 in waiting
we could cause someone to appear.

No Air conditioning in that car
we rolled down the windows and held on
on those back roads through the desert
that my dad preferred,
the ones that rose and fell like
an endless roller coaster
ultimately,
I got sick and they had to stop
and dose me with
car-sickness medicine
which I swallowed
with the now-hot root beer
the carbonation like needles in my mouth
and my throat
It made me sleepy
they had to carry me to the motel room.
Those rooms always smelled
like stale coca-cola
and old cigarettes
the air conditioner had that peculiar
chemical taint
that seeped into the pillows
and the inevitable chenille bedspreads
that always seemed to be part of the motel landscape
in 1966

Barbara Bush

Since she passed away this week at 92, I have been thinking about her.  I never really was a BIG fan, to tell you the truth.  The Bush clan left me cold and still do.  I don't actively hate them and never wished them to the cornfield, as I can say I have with SOME people in politics, but yeah, not tripping over myself to meet any of them and not shedding tears.  I am not turning handsprings.  I am reflecting on her as a public figure.

The thought that "They sell us the President the same way they sell us our clothes and our cars" ( a line from Jackson Browne's brilliant "Lives in the Balance" which rings as true today as it did in the 80's)   reminds me that they ALSO sell the First Lady as .. whatever. Barbara Bush was marketed as a kindly Grandmotherly woman who always wore pearls.  I was looking to see if there were a reason, apparently not.  ( side note to my friend Tom ;   Barbara Billingsly apparently wore them to cover a scar on her neck.  No word on Donna Reed)

But her  "grandmotherly" image was somewhat tarnished when she was overheard by reporters calling Geraldine Ferraro, who was Walter Mondale's running mate in the 1984 election a "rhymes with rich"  I was disappointed in her.  Ferraro probably hadn't done anything but campaign.  Looking back on it, I suppose she was just caught being who she was, a wise cracking woman with a sharp sense of humor, but we were supposed to see her as a cookie baking, apron bedecked Grandma- and Grandma's don't swear.

Well MINE did, but that's a subject for a future blog.

Barbara Bush advanced literacy, was an advocate for books and reading for children and adults.  Her commitment to literacy for all Americans carried on after her time as First Lady.  Her Foundation and the work it does is a testament to who she really was.

Odd factoid, Barbara Pierce Bush was a distant cousin many times removed, from Franklin Pierce who was apparently one of the worst president ever. His actions set the stage for the Civil War.  We don't really learn much about him in US History. but thank goodness for Wikipedia.  Seeing things like that makes me wonder about the nature of politics and whether certain families just gravitate toward politics; think the Kennedy's, the Bush Family ( Daddy Bush's daddy was a senator, after all). The news talked about Barbara Bush and a "life of public service".  I wonder why anyone would choose such a life. It seems that half the public loves you and the other half loathe you.  Maybe the money is good, if you look at the wealth of the current crop of Congressional leaders.  But I digress.

Rest in Peace, Mrs. Bush.  Thank you for your service.  I hope you had a wonderful life.

Childhood books

Somewhere on Facebook, someone posted the following question:

What book or books make you think of your childhood

hmmm,

Now, I remember reading "Where the Wild things are" an awful lot, but I think the question is really about what we call "chapter books" so I have been thinking about that.  I loved the Carolyn Haywood "Betsy" books, about a little girl who lived somewhere on the east coast who had normal east coast adventures.  It was like reading letters from a friend, more than anything else.  Haywood also wrote about a boy named "Eddie" but I don't remember reading them or if I did, I guess I didn't really relate to Eddie so he didn't stick with me.  I remember - and I could be wrong- that when I started reading the Betsy books, my sister was a bit miffed as if Betsy were HER discovery and I couldn't read them.  I was an early reader and started chapter books fairly early, so it MIGHT have been I was taking them from HER stash of books.  We were ONLY allowed ( by our mother) five books every two weeks from the Library.  I think it's how she kept track of how many books we had and how many had to go back.  I would have checked out a LOT more, if she had let me.  I remember re-reading some, while I waited for the due date and our return visit.

I remember the "Little House Books" played a big part in my childhood too.  The adventures of Laura and her family as they moved across the American West were thrilling and strange.  Laura would have been considered a bit of a tomboy, as I was, and sometimes my friends and I acted out the books.  I remember years later someone claimed that her daughter Rose Wilder Lane actually wrote the books ( I think it was Rose herself) but if you read Rose's writing and the "Little House" books, there is a distinct "voice" in both and Rose's work is NOT the same.  I loved the Little House books, but didn't really watch the tv series of the same mane.  meh.  As in most things, the books were better.

I remember a fairly unknown book by Sally Watson called "Highland Rebel" about a girl caught up in a feud between two clans, in the Scottish Highlands, the Campbells and the Camerons.  Lauren, the main character was brave and stupid all at the same time and I loved her.  I longed for other books featuring her adventures, but alas, this was a "one-off"This was probably my favorite chapter book, hands down.

So, chime in.  What books remind you of YOUR childhood?

National Library Week

In the midst of all the drama surrounding the current "officeholder", I am reminding myself that this is National Library Week,  the irony that we celebrate Libraries and Librarians during this week, when that person has probably only stopped in a Library to use the bathroom or to see if the "hot Librarian" stereotype is true, is not lost on me.

So I think about how I am tied, forever to libraries.  I was raised in a family of readers and since BUYING every book we wanted was both impractical and fiscally impossible, my mother, my sister and I would go every two weeks, like clockwork, to the Pacoima Library.  I don't remember my grandmother coming with us, but my mom must have picked up books for her.  MY grandmother is one of the reasons I am a reader.  One of my earliest memories is her reading to me, cuddled in her large lap in her big blue chair.  My grandmother was what we might call zaftig and her lap was a cozy place to a young child.

I was allowed to check out five- and only five- books.  I remember that you needed to be able to write your name to be given a card and one early proud moments was writing my name on the application.  I could barely reach the circulation desk and had to be lifted up to do it, but there I was,a MEMBER, with my VERY OWN CARD!  My mom laminated the paper card and kept them in her purse.

Years later, I began my City career as  a messenger clerk at that same branch.  It was a wonderful job and I was going to go to Library School, but things happened along the way and I didn't go. I became an analyst with the City and in 1986 went back to work in Branch Library Services.  My job allows me to work with librarians to keep the doors open.  It has been a wonderful job and I love my people. I love libraries.  The free and easy access to information is one of the hallmarks of this country; and while I am distressed with the current political climate, libraries continue to give me hope.   We have changed in the last 40 years since wide-eyed eighteen year old me started shelving books. We are more in line with the times and provide vital community services along with books and periodicals.  Libraries are lively places these days,we are NOT your mother's library - or MY Mother's that's for sure.  I always say that one of my ears is longer than the other, because every two weeks, we would stop at the door to the library to receive the following warning.  She would pull my left ear and say "If you make ANY noise in here, we are leaving and not coming back"   I would nod and be as quiet as a church mouse.  For the first two weeks I worked there, I whispered.

Dreams and such

"Dreams are nothing more than wishes, and a wish is just a dream you wish to come true"  Harry Nilsson

God.  I hope not.

The last few days, I have been plagued by nightmares, probably brought on as my sleeping body's response to  pain.  My chronic lung ailment has flared and I have chest pains.  I know what is causing them, but still it is worrisome and I struggle to fins a position where I can sleep, but when I DO sleep, more often than not, I wake up screaming from a nightmare.

I recently had a dream, VERY REALISTIC, that two dear friends were killed in a car crash.  It was three in the morning or I would have called one of them.  It was so real and so terrifying.  I hate dreams like that, that scare you and stick with you like some real remembered incident.  I use to have these wonderful dreams that were like long intricate movies.  I really miss having THOSE.

"When You wake up from a nightmare, and it's worse when you're awake" Warren Zevon

Every morning I wake up and check the news.  Maybe I am hoping this whole Administration is a long drawn out nightmare and that someone SANE is running this country.  Alas it's still the Dorito Despot.  He has broken so many of our laws, the latest to start a RUMOR about Amazon to make the stock fall.  I wonder if he has stock or is buying it at a low rate so he can make money.  Isn't insider trading what got Martha Stewart tossed in the pokey?  How much longer do we need to deal with this? Until the Republicans have sufficiently lined their pockets with ill-gotten gold, I suppose.  Or until we vote them out.  November can't come soon enough.

A note on Easter, since the Ultra Christian President failed to mention it at all.  As a Christian, I think it's OBVIOUS that Easter, not Christmas, is our most important holiday.  Isn't our faith based on Christ's sacrifice and His rising again?  Where were the tweets from tRump?  I think he ignored the whole thing.  It would amuse me that a certain sector of Christians think that God Himself sent tRump to save us, if I weren't scared every day that he will plunge us into WWIII.  I had a dream, in the latest of my sequences, that I was at an event where he was and decided to flip him off.  I gave him both "barrels"- a two-handed "salute" as it were, and he started screaming for the Secret Service to arrest me.  They just stood around laughing at him ( something I would bet some of them would love to do in real life.)

I had a lovely dinner party on Easter, with friends who made the day wonderful.  I love having people in for dinner.  It can be a lot of work, but in so many ways worth it to hear laughing around the table and see the smiles of my friends.  I love to cook and I love to eat.  I have a list of folks I have said to "we must have dinner soon"  If you are one of them, check your calendar and let's get together.  Life is short.  Recently two people in my life passed away quite suddenly.  In their honor and in their memory, let me tell you, I love you and you mean a lot to me. Let's have dinner.  Maybe the laughter will chase away the nightmares and sleep will become the pleasure it once was.

July 23, 1949

Bob and his favorite cousin, Bill were looking for something to do on a hot summer day in Brooklyn.  Bill suggested they go to the St George Hotel, both the bar and the pool were open for a small fee.  "what are we going to do?  Swim BA?" Bob asked  His cousin assured him they could rent suits at the hotel and within a short time were drinking at the bar in itchy maroon wool bathing suits.

Hazel and her skating friend decided it was too hot to go to the rink, in the days before AC was a regular thing.  The friend suggested swimming at the St George "what are we going to do?  Swim BA?" ( see there's theme here?)  The friend assured Hazel of the suit rental and off they went.

Bob spotted a cute girl, in an itchy maroon rented bathing suit, walking next to the pool and walked up to her,  He said "You could use a swim" and pushed her in.  It took him a moment to realize SHE COULD'NT SWIM and went in after her and pulled her out.

They exchanged phone numbers.

And THAT, my friends, is how my parents met.

If it had been ME he pushed in, he would have come with me and there MIGHT have been blood, but then I am as much his daughter as I am hers.

I once asked her why she didn't punch his lights out.  She said "Oh I thought he was cute" Paused a beat and said "And if I HAD, YOU wouldn't be here"  Good Point, Mom.

Happy 68th wedding anniversary, Bob and Hazel Myers.  Can you GUESS where they spent their wedding night?


That's right.


What my father referred to as "the scene of the crime"  The St George Hotel in Brooklyn.

Inheritance

I've been thinking a lot about the subject lately.  a former family member is constantly berating another about doing what they demand or "you won't get your inheritance"  This person is totally clueless about the fact that the person they are "threatening" has zero interest in what money may be left over.  They have figured out that there probably won't be much left and whatever the money, it is not worth their soul.  I have watched this former family member sell off their own dreams to dance to the tune of the parent who has the money and has forced them into an ill-fitting mold.  To say that this person is unhappy, with all the trappings of success, is an understatement.

It makes me glad my great-grandfather, "Good Time Charlie" Myers, blew his portion of the family fortune, reportedly on "wine women and song'   I hope he had fun with it.  His son, my grandfather Robert, had even less desire for inheritance.  There's a family story that his was displeasing his great-aunt, who had pots of money.  She told him "I'm going to cut you out of my will"  He replied "Good.  I've been sitting up nights, trying to figure out what I'm going to do with those two bags of horseshit you're going to leave me." 

When my mother died, this money-loving former family member DEMANDED to know ( as if it were any of their business) just WHAT my mother had left me.  I gently pointed out that my FATHER was still alive.  She sniffed and said that there is ALWAYS something left. 

The thought rankled me then as it does now, so I have been thinking about it. Just what DID my mother leave me?

I inherited her maternal instincts. Come to my house and I will become my mother, offering you food and drink and kissing you on the cheek.  I am, as most people who know me will tell you, a mother to everyone.  At work, the people I work with are all my kids.  I care, probably far too much, how things are going.  I can't help it.  It is who I am and I got that from her. 

I wish I had gotten the math skills, but noooooo

She was a better housekeeper than me, but I always say my house is clean enough to be healthy and messy enough to be happy. 

If I am half the woman she was, I am lucky.


Since we are talking inheritance, I am thinking about what I got from my Dad.  I got his cooking gene, for sure.  I got his hands, square fingers and a bit of his sense of humor.  He encouraged me to be fearless in the kitchen, to start with good food and you will probably get something good.  Otherwise, he would assure me with a wink "there's always pizza"

I wish I had his dancing skills, my two left feet are a disaster on the dance floor, but I have fun.

My parents left me a memory of love, loving me and my sister and loving each other.  They left me the bond of family and a faith that tough times don't last but tough people do.  Money comes, money goes.  It's who you are through it all that counts the most. 

That's my "inheritance"

Oscars, movies and politics

I didn't watch the awards, not because I was boycotting, I just got busy.  I don't actually GO to the movies all that much, it seems to be an ordeal for me to go. Once I am there, I am usually ok, but the mechanics of going out to the movies just has NO appeal to me. Ok   I don't watch them in my jammies in the living room much either, as much as Chris wishes I would.  He LOVES movies. I just don't sit still for that long anymore.  I think I need to work on stillness.

I saw that a lot of ultra conservatives were boycotting the ceremony from the comfort of their own living room.  Too political.  Get real  LIFE is political, and these days it IS too political.  If you buy gas, you complain about the taxes- politics.  If you have a dangerous street corner that needs a light or a stop sign, politics. Food prices?  GMOs?  Yeah  get real. Small Government is wishful thinking.  They TELL you they like small government, until it impacts their bottom line or enables them to have control over YOU because of what they believe.

I am having a hard time with two schools of thought that I came up against recently ( fasten your seat-belts, I'm about to hit turbulence)  Flat- Earthers .  Seriously.  People who SO deny science that they believe the earth is flat.  Think about that.  They deny the pictures from space as "fake news"  and have all kinds of cockamamie arguments about how they can PROVE the earth is flat.  Chris has got into it with one of them, whose spelling is so atrocious it takes five minutes to decipher the point, which is so convoluted even after the translation ( and the guy is an native English speaker)  Science deniers blow my mind.   I know why the 1% advance the theory; so they can continue to devastate the Earth's resources for their own gain, but they have convinces a good number of people who did NOT pay attention in 8th grade- or even 6th grade- to the teachers who talked about ecology and natural resources.

Sigh.

The other group I  shake my head at at the Ultra Religious Right.  I have NO problem with people who practice a religion, that guides them to interact with their fellow planet dwellers in a compassionate and thoughtful manner.  I HAVE A PROBLEM with the "God said it I believe it that settles it, you Godless Heathen" sort of person. People who believe, for instance that Trump was sent here by God.  People who believe prayer- but only THEIR style of prayer-should be compulsory in schools.  I shake my head at all the hand wringing that "if we only let God into school, we wouldn't have the shootings"  Tell THAT to the congregation in Texas or the prayer group in South Carolina.  Now, I follow a faith.  I don't wave it in anyone's face, but I do pray and I do try to follow what I believe on a day to day basis.  It's personal and will remain so unless we sit down to talk about ideas.  So many on the far sides have minds like a steel trap. Rusted shut.

Things seem to be moving, as the pendulum shifts as it will. I am hopeful we can get our country moving forward, together.  These past few years, there has been such a divide and conquer mentality, we forget we are two halves of the same coin.

You've gotta Hope...

white lie

ˈˌ(h)wīt ˈlī/

noun

plural noun: white lies

1. a harmless or trivial lie, especially one told to avoid hurting someone's feelings

So, Ms Hicks only told "white lies" for Donald Trump?  Did that include telling a journalist their hair looked nice when it looked like they styled it with a weed-whacker?  Telling Melania that her souffle was superb?  In the words of Emma Gonzales, I CALL BS.

I wonder what will become of Ms. Hicks, now that she's shot herself in the PR foot.  I don't feel sorry for her, there's an old saying "If you lie down with dogs, you wake up with fleas"

It's hard not to be a bit gleeful as you watch the wheels come off the Trump bus, but at the same time, I am afraid of the other shoe dropping.  Apparently, we can't just toss the lot of them out on their ear, there is some sort of rule of law.  Mike Pence is crazy.  There, I've said it.  He scares me.  I don't see humanity in his eyes.  His stated feelings toward women will put us all back in the Dark Ages.  

I don't know what the world is coming to.  Seriously.  I actually viewed a conversation where someone I work with, someone I heretofore considered sane but deluded ACTUALLY SAY that "You don't understand Trumpspeak. He didn't mean what he said" in response to the statement that Trump made about taking away weapons from people they THINK are dangerous and giving them due process of the law AFTER.  Can you IMAGINE if Barrack Obama had said this?  There would be a mad rush on the sale of rope and pitchforks, but NO.. There are actually people in this world who support the Dorito Despot to the point where he can say something so ANTI our laws and everyone applauds.  I am horrified.  When I see this coworker, I probably will just wave and keep going.  If that is his belief system, I am not engaging, not even to talk about the weather.

I find it ironic.  After EIGHT YEARS of "Obama is coming for your guns", it appears that TRUMP actually IS.

I hope Mueller gets all his legal ducks in a row soon.  He's gunning for the kids now.  In what world would Jared Kushner and Ivanka the handbag saleswoman ( she does not, as far as I can tell DO the actual design work, but approves the work of others) be advisers to a President. Oh yeah  DADDY LAND.  Kushner ,at the very least, is going to jail.  Maybe he can share a cell with his own father who went to jail already (wonder if he's still in the pokey)  

Still I have to hope- and not Hope Hicks- that balance will be restored.   Lately life in this country had been like being on one of those playground merry-go rounds.  People outside are spinning it as fast as they can.  We just have to hold on to the bars and wait for it to stop.

Dreams and nightmares

I was on Prednisone   It give me weird dreams.   I have some pleasant ones but mostly wracking nightmares.  Does this drug do this to anyone else?  I wake up , screaming and shaking and I can't remember the dream, just a vague notion of monsters, usually and LOST of blood.   UGH. 

I hate it, but it seems to have helped.  I am not waking up gasping for air, but I AM using the breathing treatment more regularly.  On  the advice of my doctor, I am dragging the "Little Puppy" ( what I call the nebulizer)  to work in my kit bag.  I think it will only be a day or two more that I will need the multiple treatments.  Here's HOPING


I have the strangest dreams sometimes, a few are like films.  In these films I am NOT me and it's kind o funny. In the last one, I was invited by a friend to join her on a cruise.  She worked as the Cruise Director, but she never showed up, so they told me I had to do her job. I was woefully unprepared.  I had not brought the proper clothing.  The Captain yelled at me for only having a sundress and flip-flops.  WHERE were my work clothes? Every day at 3,  all the people on the ship would sing "Sweet Caroline" to me.  It turns out my name was Caroline.I tried desperately to come up with fun activities for the people on the ship, but they just weren't interested- and frankly the activities were a bit lame, something like craft games for kids.  I felt helpless but the people were cheerful and assuring me that I was doing just fine.

hmmm.  I have days like that at work, now that I think about it.  I can't fix something and get frustrated but people tell me it's going to be ok.  Sometimes when I have these dreams, I wonder if I can remember enough to flesh out a short story.  Maybe.  Then just maybe they are meant to comfort or amuse me.  In any case, these days I wake up TIRED!  I can't wait for the asthma to settle down.

Guns, gunshots and thoughts and prayers

On Valentine's Day, of all days, a nineteen year old, armed with an automatic weapon went to his former high school and shot 32 people, killing 17 of them. 

Let that sink in.

We keep hearing the number 17, but that number is wrong.   There are still people who lived through the shooting, in the hospital,fighting for their lives. 

Last year, kowtowing to his masters the NRA,  Donald John Trump overrode Obama era legislation to keep guns out of the hands of the mentally ill, but the FIRST words out of their mouths when a white male shoots up a room is  "Oh, he had a mental illness"  HELLO????  so, we use the excuse that DJT made possible.

I can't help thinking of all the "Thoughts and prayers" the lawmakers of this country are sending out. Nice, but can you follow it up with "Change and action"?

I am heartened by the uprising of young people who are standing up and saying WE NEED CHANGE.  We do. 

How is it you can't buy a freaking BEER in most states until you are 21, but can go out and buy a semi-automatic weapon at 18?

I see that CHILDREN are being taught to sacrifice themselves for their classmates as part of "active shooter" training.  WHAT?  Distract the shooter so he shoots at YOU so other people can get out?  What is THAT to tell someone?  The active shooter training I received at work- I work in a public library- did NOT include that piece of advice.

Hearing the kids from Douglas High School reminded me of when there was a shooting at MY high school.  Two gang members got into it ,over a girl or an insult, I can't remember. One brought a shotgun to school.  This was in the early 70's when it was illegal to own an automatic weapon.  I remember them carrying the wounded boy to the office. I turned and fled down a hall of the nearest building.  I grabbed my very tall, very white friend and told him we had to hide. The school we went to had a lot of racial tension in addition to a gang problem.  We went to class which was in the library, which in retrospect was NOT my best idea, but I was around 16, I guess.  The library was all plate glass windows and in the ensuing riot, we were all herded into a very small utility closet where we were kept for several hours. I was claustrophobic before that but the incident made it worse.

I cannot imagine the carnage if that gang member had had an automatic weapon.

We need to change the availability of such weapons to just anyone.  I am sick of the posts about cars killing people.  Listen, in order to drive a car, you need to take a test and prove that you can handle it.  We don't just flip 15 year-olds car keys and say "there ya go Bubba, Have at it"

I'm also getting tired of the memes saying all of this is caused because we "don't allow God in school" and "God would have prevented this"  If that is true, why didn't he stop the shooting at the Church in Texas last year, or the prayer group shooting in Charleston the year before?  I read some stupid comment that this shooting was "God's will"  Well, if this is His will,do you accept everything that happens as God's will?  If you get cancer, do you go to the doctor or just accept that He will heal you?  No.  We have the brains to heal and we have the brains to fix this problem.  Some people are wringing their hands and say it's a "Society problem"   Let's look at the root causes then, but we need to get weapons of this caliber OUT of the hands of people who are unfit to wield them.

Slacker thoughts

Well, I'd like to say I've been neglecting my housework for writing, but as you can probably tell if you look over this blog, I have been neglecting both for... breathing.

I have asthma. It had been getting better, under control, then Kaiser, in it's infinite wisdom, and I suspect the clinical version of payola, removed the medication from the approved list.  That's right. It's not bad enough that last year Urgent Care gave me something I was CLEARLY allergic to, NOW they are taking away what keeps me alive.  ARGH!   Thankfully, my allergist and my pulmonologist double-teamed them and I have the medication I need BACK, BUT I backslid and it's going to take a while to get back to where I was.  It's frustrating to say the least.  I'm tired all the time.  I reach for a deep breath and I can't seem to get it.  Walking upstairs takes concentration.  I don't mean to whine, but DAMNIT, just let me freaking recover!

Ok rant over.

I don't want to talk much about politics but am I the only one who suspects the release of the Nunes memo is a smokescreen?  I also privately think that although there is a rumor that 45 edited it, that he probably didn't even READ it.  C'mon!   it's NINE pages of gobbledygook.  He can't read more than a tweet or two before losing interest.  I must confess I have not actually read the whole thing either.  I intend to sit down with it and a very LARGE whiskey  in the next few days.  I tried to read it the other day, but I really didn't have the concentration skills at that moment to decipher it.  I understand the whole thing rests on the FBI "spying" on Carter Page. Uh, isn't that kind of what they do?  And they spied on him when he wasn't involved in the 45 campaign?  At one point, before all of this, the Trump camp poo-pooed Page as a non-ranking nobody.  NOW  it's a TRAVESTY and PROOF POSITIVE of the skulduggery of the Obama Administration.  uh, yeah, except it continued after he left office.  So 45, WHICH is it?  I guess someone will have to pare it down to a single page with TRUMP being in every paragraph to get him to read it.

It's already been a crummy year. The last two Saturday's I have gone to memorial services.   That's enough for me for a while.On a brighter note, I got tickets to see my favorite band this weekend.   I could use the diversion.  They always manage to cheer me up.