The thought for this Blog came on my way to work today. I was ruminating on my most recent blog about weaving. I decided this weaving / craft ineptitude goes far deeper than my own klutziness. It starts with the search for Divine Shiksahood. This is not possible.
Just like Dr. Laura could not get into the inner sanctum of the “tribe” when she tried to convert; we recognized not only was she not smart enough, but she couldn’t acquire the needed DNA “J gene.” And there you have it. The “J gene.”
This gene renders it impossible for the pure Jewish girl to be built like Anita Ekburg, have the sensuality of Elizabeth Taylor in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” or the naivete of a Marilyn Monroe. She will never be a track star; Run?! Are you kidding me? And then it comes to crafts. How can she sit still and embroider for 6 months – no spas, no shoe sales, and all those divine lunches out.
Do Jewish girls win the Pillsbury Bake Off? Climb the Grand Canyon without the aide of something approaching an East Indian palanquin? NO! and they certainly wouldn’t have been there sewing away with Betsy and the girls to make a flag that would be continually evolving – meaning more sewing.
So while we can wail and moan at our exclusion; we must come to realize it isn’t our religion, but our culture. There is no such thing as a kosher tea party. Let them eat matzoh!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Weaving does not loom in my future!
So today we tried to turn back time - not so far back as Rapunzel and the spinning wheel but slightly more current. We went to the Yarn store for a try at Weaving.
This looks fairly simple - especially if you remember the small potholders you made in Girl Scouts or the knitting badges that required yarn and patience and feeling very Betsy Ross.
The easy part I thought would be picking out the yarn but there were a lot of choices and wool was suggested, but Spring in Tucson is like Hell in the afterlife; so wool sounded all wrong. Then we were told some was for the warp and some for the weave. There were lots of specialty words to identify weird tools and math problems to figure out if you wanted something this long and this wide multiply it by yards (in inches) and be sure to add 24 inches for wastage (especially for a shawl). Like beading, I am told this is addictive; but only if you catch on without breaking things, shredding your yarn, or collapsing the loom.
I fell behind during the preparatory part where you were just getting the warp started. The teacher was patient and kind but I required my own personal aide to get through the initial stage. I couldn't get my yarn through the small hole with this tool (and I wasn't even sure I was choosing the correct strand). The teacher kept saying "this isn't right, but it probably won't matter in the end."
So I did work for a little while on the loom, which was fairly small but then got terribly hungry - so I left. I know it will be waiting there, and I will go back, after all I paid for the yarn. I'm sure I can't be the only one that sees this as a new form of self-abuse (where you get to fail in the company of others - doing something that requires little or no intelligence) all the while feeling like a clumsy oaf. To make matters worse I think I forgot to use my discount card.
This looks fairly simple - especially if you remember the small potholders you made in Girl Scouts or the knitting badges that required yarn and patience and feeling very Betsy Ross.
The easy part I thought would be picking out the yarn but there were a lot of choices and wool was suggested, but Spring in Tucson is like Hell in the afterlife; so wool sounded all wrong. Then we were told some was for the warp and some for the weave. There were lots of specialty words to identify weird tools and math problems to figure out if you wanted something this long and this wide multiply it by yards (in inches) and be sure to add 24 inches for wastage (especially for a shawl). Like beading, I am told this is addictive; but only if you catch on without breaking things, shredding your yarn, or collapsing the loom.
I fell behind during the preparatory part where you were just getting the warp started. The teacher was patient and kind but I required my own personal aide to get through the initial stage. I couldn't get my yarn through the small hole with this tool (and I wasn't even sure I was choosing the correct strand). The teacher kept saying "this isn't right, but it probably won't matter in the end."
So I did work for a little while on the loom, which was fairly small but then got terribly hungry - so I left. I know it will be waiting there, and I will go back, after all I paid for the yarn. I'm sure I can't be the only one that sees this as a new form of self-abuse (where you get to fail in the company of others - doing something that requires little or no intelligence) all the while feeling like a clumsy oaf. To make matters worse I think I forgot to use my discount card.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
My Girl
I don't know when she was born - but I think she came into my life in November of 1995. Half Chow - Half Sharpei, a little black puppy who looked rather like a potbelly piglet. She was on the carpet and as was my want I tried different names on her to see what would fit. I finally said "are you a Stinky Girl?" and with that she came right over and licked my face or hand in acknowledgment. It wasn't a pretty girlish name but that was who she became. Totally "Alpha" totally confident and in charge.
She would scare the unknowing with an incredibly fierce growl meant to keep all the other puppies in line. She had a side that only I saw. I think she wanted the grooming the tiny miniature puppies got and the attention, and the feeling of being oh so cute. So one time in her fifteen years I sent her for grooming and she came back with a bow and she was "oh so pleased!" I knew that as gruff as she seemed she still wanted the world to see her as an attractive female.
As she got older she came to trust me to take care of her. She no longer struggled when I took her in the car. She knew it would be something good. A romp in the doggy park or more often making her feel better by going to the vet.
She was a trooper and had been suffering for a long time with arthritis - I didn't know how bad it actually was. She hadn't been able to jump on my bed for awhile -
or the sofa. Last week it was bad and she had trouble sitting and getting comfortable - it was awkward. I saw her pain which she tried to hide with a growl every now and then. When I saw the other dogs try to dominate her and her last valiant attempts to keep them at bay - wasn't working - I knew I had to protect her dignity and respect and pride. Because she trusted me to take care of her and make her comfortable and ease her pain.
I took her to the veterinarian on Monday March 8th for the last time. I lifted her into my car. I held her face when they gave her the injection and I walked away in tears. I did this for you Stinky Girl because you trusted me to make things better.
I know you would have liked to spare me the pain of your loss but that is impossible.
Here's to "My Stinky Girl" a very special dog.
She would scare the unknowing with an incredibly fierce growl meant to keep all the other puppies in line. She had a side that only I saw. I think she wanted the grooming the tiny miniature puppies got and the attention, and the feeling of being oh so cute. So one time in her fifteen years I sent her for grooming and she came back with a bow and she was "oh so pleased!" I knew that as gruff as she seemed she still wanted the world to see her as an attractive female.
As she got older she came to trust me to take care of her. She no longer struggled when I took her in the car. She knew it would be something good. A romp in the doggy park or more often making her feel better by going to the vet.
She was a trooper and had been suffering for a long time with arthritis - I didn't know how bad it actually was. She hadn't been able to jump on my bed for awhile -
or the sofa. Last week it was bad and she had trouble sitting and getting comfortable - it was awkward. I saw her pain which she tried to hide with a growl every now and then. When I saw the other dogs try to dominate her and her last valiant attempts to keep them at bay - wasn't working - I knew I had to protect her dignity and respect and pride. Because she trusted me to take care of her and make her comfortable and ease her pain.
I took her to the veterinarian on Monday March 8th for the last time. I lifted her into my car. I held her face when they gave her the injection and I walked away in tears. I did this for you Stinky Girl because you trusted me to make things better.
I know you would have liked to spare me the pain of your loss but that is impossible.
Here's to "My Stinky Girl" a very special dog.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Myth Memory and Friendship
This blog is about the Myth that memories are just that; and that friendships that end are lost forever.
If truth be known. We are not helpless victims of what life hands us. Though our paths may go in directions we can't control, the technology that is part of our lives allows us the ability that other generations never had. We can be our own detectives and researchers. We cannot only find the pieces of our DNA scattered across continents; we can find childhood friends who seemed to vanish in the night. The darkened parts of our brain that were shut up like a safe are now susceptible to a word, or whisper that evokes an event and a time long past.
Yes, Carol. Remember the table in the cafeteria. The 6 of us always together. Eileen preparing for her wedding, Melissa who really belonged in Haight Ashbury selling beads, and Mary Ellen, who had the secret of her life and love sealed off from the rest of us. It has become so real to me at this moment. Like Rip Van Winkle or Snow White...the sleep that was the years of separation - is over. We can begin anew. Grab your coat. Grab your hat.
If truth be known. We are not helpless victims of what life hands us. Though our paths may go in directions we can't control, the technology that is part of our lives allows us the ability that other generations never had. We can be our own detectives and researchers. We cannot only find the pieces of our DNA scattered across continents; we can find childhood friends who seemed to vanish in the night. The darkened parts of our brain that were shut up like a safe are now susceptible to a word, or whisper that evokes an event and a time long past.
Yes, Carol. Remember the table in the cafeteria. The 6 of us always together. Eileen preparing for her wedding, Melissa who really belonged in Haight Ashbury selling beads, and Mary Ellen, who had the secret of her life and love sealed off from the rest of us. It has become so real to me at this moment. Like Rip Van Winkle or Snow White...the sleep that was the years of separation - is over. We can begin anew. Grab your coat. Grab your hat.
Monday, August 31, 2009
No, No, No; You can't take that Away from me
The way you sip your tea. I remember all that
So your life is going fine and so it goes. The usual pains, the bills, the overeating and the longing. Not heavy breathing longing like you had a lot of hormones and you were 16, but the yearning for simpler times when you had all your faculties and health you took for granted. So as I said, your life is going on in measured steps and you are in that numbed state of contentment when the rug is pulled out from under you and you fall down 70 flights of stairs while standing in a patio home.
Your childhood best friend lets you know she is dying, She is not next door but removed by 2000, miles and 42 years. You know that her death will take like Dorothy's tornado in the Wizard of Oz, everything you are and have always known, whirl you around and deposit you befuddled somewhere else without anchor.
Suddenly you are the rock and foundation for each other you hadn't been in years. You are living the movie "Beaches" and loving the process but not the finale.
Maybe it is a good thing to stop and really look around and say what did my lifetime mean? I am the sum of so many parts. My childhood and young adulthood are long gone. But those memories of carefree youth with all my loved ones around me; no death, no pain and unfilled dreams to color the horizon.
Maybe Susan and I should rejoice in this reunion for however long it lasts and just continue to say I am so blessed that you were and are still part of my life.
So your life is going fine and so it goes. The usual pains, the bills, the overeating and the longing. Not heavy breathing longing like you had a lot of hormones and you were 16, but the yearning for simpler times when you had all your faculties and health you took for granted. So as I said, your life is going on in measured steps and you are in that numbed state of contentment when the rug is pulled out from under you and you fall down 70 flights of stairs while standing in a patio home.
Your childhood best friend lets you know she is dying, She is not next door but removed by 2000, miles and 42 years. You know that her death will take like Dorothy's tornado in the Wizard of Oz, everything you are and have always known, whirl you around and deposit you befuddled somewhere else without anchor.
Suddenly you are the rock and foundation for each other you hadn't been in years. You are living the movie "Beaches" and loving the process but not the finale.
Maybe it is a good thing to stop and really look around and say what did my lifetime mean? I am the sum of so many parts. My childhood and young adulthood are long gone. But those memories of carefree youth with all my loved ones around me; no death, no pain and unfilled dreams to color the horizon.
Maybe Susan and I should rejoice in this reunion for however long it lasts and just continue to say I am so blessed that you were and are still part of my life.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Archie and Other Pets I have Known - a Tribute
Archie passed away yesterday. He had a good and trying life. He was not a world champion Beagle like Uno. He was a world champion pain-in-the-ass. Like Marley he had demon like energy and was able to eat screen doors and reading glasses with the same voracious and indiscriminate appetite. He knew. Yes he knew if you had no patience for him and wouldn't be suckered in to think that occasional pandering and petting made you change your feelings. My daughter loved Archie. Archie didn't criticize her or give her conditional anything. Archie was always there happy to see her, glad to snuggle and sing along with her. That is the thing about dogs they are loyal and loving to a level unable to be matched by human beings. If there is a "me first" it is when they are in line for treats.
I lost my dog Garozzo three years ago, and Lesley lost Chelsea, Jackie lost Bud and Colleen lost her cat; all since then. We all grieved at the time and still grieve. The animals are fine where they are but we feel the void daily. We were their "rock" and their "sun, moon and stars." Where to find that love again. Oh yes the pet store and breeders and humane society all bring new loves and new hope...but that song "I will never love this way again..." that wasn't written about human love
I am convinced it was written for Archie, Garozzo, Chelsea, Bud and Abbey and all those pets that leave our lives having given us so much.
I lost my dog Garozzo three years ago, and Lesley lost Chelsea, Jackie lost Bud and Colleen lost her cat; all since then. We all grieved at the time and still grieve. The animals are fine where they are but we feel the void daily. We were their "rock" and their "sun, moon and stars." Where to find that love again. Oh yes the pet store and breeders and humane society all bring new loves and new hope...but that song "I will never love this way again..." that wasn't written about human love
I am convinced it was written for Archie, Garozzo, Chelsea, Bud and Abbey and all those pets that leave our lives having given us so much.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
GOOD HEALTH, GOOD LUCK ALWAYS, Love Grandma Rose
When I was a little girl I always got birthday cards and valentine cards and rosh hashanah cards - whatever the holiday; signed with the above sentiment - from Grandma Rose. It wasn't until I was 45 that I realized what a genius she was. Wealth, Beauty success and the best sex with the handsomest dude meant nothing without Health. So you are wealthy enough to afford Canyon Ranch but you are in Intensive Care at the University Hospital; you can afford a stable of boy toys but you have eczema and no one wants to touch you! You can look like Farrah Fawcett or Suzzane Somers and be rotting underneath with Cancer. Ask the dying would they give it all up for Health; the answer would always be Yes. No one wants to grapple with the maze of dr. visits, and stress tests, or mysterious treatments that are not approved by the FDA (remembrance of steve mcqueen and his desperate flight to mexico for apricot pits).
What fun is it to hobble to plastic surgeons on Rodeo Drive if you are so medicated you can't see straight? Ask insomniacs what they would give for a good night's sleep? The millions of obese who will turn themselves over to surgeons to shed the weight and the diabetes and hypertension that goes with it - taking second mortgages on their houses to afford it - If they survive the operation and complications that go with it - If it is worth it?
Adele Davis ate right to stay fit and died of cancer anyway. So the Grandma Rose sentiment of putting Health on top of everything else puts her right up there with Einstein; forget the lottery - be fortunate enough to have health so you can enjoy your life and savor every moment.
Love,
Grandma Rose's granddaughter
What fun is it to hobble to plastic surgeons on Rodeo Drive if you are so medicated you can't see straight? Ask insomniacs what they would give for a good night's sleep? The millions of obese who will turn themselves over to surgeons to shed the weight and the diabetes and hypertension that goes with it - taking second mortgages on their houses to afford it - If they survive the operation and complications that go with it - If it is worth it?
Adele Davis ate right to stay fit and died of cancer anyway. So the Grandma Rose sentiment of putting Health on top of everything else puts her right up there with Einstein; forget the lottery - be fortunate enough to have health so you can enjoy your life and savor every moment.
Love,
Grandma Rose's granddaughter
Friday, March 09, 2007
I Want my Money Back!
In Today's world getting time off for personal "stuff" isn't always easy. Most companies run on tight budgets and short staffs. So today's visit to the hospital for elective surgery had been planned for like an Olympic Athletic event. The prelims or qualifying event was the pre-admission testing on Wednesday; the warmup was the 'last supper' with obligatory fasting and discriminatory pill taking. I got to the "arena" a bit early and only had my debit card with me for the "infamous copay- or in athletic circles - Entry Fee." I was gowned and IV-d; my vitals were fabulous 122/73 and 98 temp.
Dr. Death walked in - I was disqualified by the out-sourced Asian anesthetist- it turns out my Ekg showed some weird Right Bundle Branch Block -not discovered til they had my money and i was dressed for surgery. Alas there would be no competition - no pain meds and no recuperation period - out the door I went. NO surgery until I got a release from the Cardiologist (to be named later) that this was ok. So off we go to set up the whole schedule again provided the "stress test" with added stress provided at no additional cost - shows i am immune to all the problematic things around me. Here's looking at you kid! and the incredibly technologically stressful world that has been created for us all.
Dr. Death walked in - I was disqualified by the out-sourced Asian anesthetist- it turns out my Ekg showed some weird Right Bundle Branch Block -not discovered til they had my money and i was dressed for surgery. Alas there would be no competition - no pain meds and no recuperation period - out the door I went. NO surgery until I got a release from the Cardiologist (to be named later) that this was ok. So off we go to set up the whole schedule again provided the "stress test" with added stress provided at no additional cost - shows i am immune to all the problematic things around me. Here's looking at you kid! and the incredibly technologically stressful world that has been created for us all.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Your Nose Knows
Out in the world you may hear the phrase "A nose for the news" or something to that effect. It usually means trust your intuition. You could put "Your nose to the grindstone" and that means focus and get to work!
For the better part of the summer my Nose has been useless. Not only has it not been working but it has been hemmorhaging sometimes 3 times a day. I wake up in the middle of the night with hour long nosebleeds. I might get one in the middle of the day or in the early evening. Between August 17th and September I had 3 cauterizations - one visit to the Emergency Room and saw 3 different specialists. Add a new primary - a cardiologist (in case it was blood pressure related) and hours spent with splints, ice, nasal spray and gels.
The ATM machine ate my card yesterday as I was about to make a desperate deposit to cover my mortgage; I was on my way to see a Chiropractor because my back went out (do we see some stress related problems here?). The townhouse association gave me a week to get my tree trimmed - and because it is a palm tree not every trimmer wants to do this for any amount of money.
I mention all of this because when things are going badly at the Bridge Table (and I am a bridge player) they tell you it is time to pull in your horns and be cautious. Every risk will end in disaster. Eat Oatmeal!
My yard flooded in the middle of the night because of an irrigation hose gone bad -i called my landscaper and he told me what to do at 3:15 am this morning. He didn't complain - Stuff just keeps happening; if it isn't a nose bleed while I am sleeping it is a garden hose. I am not taking risks I am barely able to leave my bed.
So as it happens I remember a chinese fortune teller saying 2007 would be a good year, at least I think that was what he said. So I will be hopeful, but this doesn't bode well for Penn State vs Ohio State this afternoon.
For the better part of the summer my Nose has been useless. Not only has it not been working but it has been hemmorhaging sometimes 3 times a day. I wake up in the middle of the night with hour long nosebleeds. I might get one in the middle of the day or in the early evening. Between August 17th and September I had 3 cauterizations - one visit to the Emergency Room and saw 3 different specialists. Add a new primary - a cardiologist (in case it was blood pressure related) and hours spent with splints, ice, nasal spray and gels.
The ATM machine ate my card yesterday as I was about to make a desperate deposit to cover my mortgage; I was on my way to see a Chiropractor because my back went out (do we see some stress related problems here?). The townhouse association gave me a week to get my tree trimmed - and because it is a palm tree not every trimmer wants to do this for any amount of money.
I mention all of this because when things are going badly at the Bridge Table (and I am a bridge player) they tell you it is time to pull in your horns and be cautious. Every risk will end in disaster. Eat Oatmeal!
My yard flooded in the middle of the night because of an irrigation hose gone bad -i called my landscaper and he told me what to do at 3:15 am this morning. He didn't complain - Stuff just keeps happening; if it isn't a nose bleed while I am sleeping it is a garden hose. I am not taking risks I am barely able to leave my bed.
So as it happens I remember a chinese fortune teller saying 2007 would be a good year, at least I think that was what he said. So I will be hopeful, but this doesn't bode well for Penn State vs Ohio State this afternoon.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Literary Meme
One Book that Changed My Life
That is very difficult for me since I've lived twice as long as everyone else.
I guess I would say Look Homeward Angel by Thomas Wolfe. It was a long
uneasy autobiographical book with a tremendous amount of Angst. It was an achievement to finish it. It wasn't until later talking to my college professor that I discovered the hypocracy and torture of this book. Thomas Wolfe was an anti-semite (perhaps another Mel Gibson) but had a long standing affair (20 years at least) with a married Jewish woman he first met as a shipboard romance.
One Book I've read More than Once.
There have been quite a few of those(mostly when I was younger;Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and Little Men for starters. In my middle years would be Jane Austen's Persuasion. It was a book that provided solace for me (almost like a 12-step inspirational book). The protagonist had suffered tremendously by allowing herself to be guided and swayed by the opinions of others. By standing by her principles and being the "wind beneath the wings" for those around her eventually had her virtue rewarded.
One Book I would want on a Desert Island.
That is really easy and no contest. The Complete Works of Jane Austen. The Complete Works of the Bronte Sisters not far behind. These books are like comfort food for me. They draw you into to another time but the characters are full blooded and real. They exhibit the frailties, foibles and strengths we all have or wish we had. It was a simpler time with interaction that wasn't computer generated and allowed for civility and constancy.
One Book that made me Laugh
I don't remember the essays at all anymore. I know I laughed hard and loud at the first. That would be Nora Ephron's book of essays called Crazy Salad. I had no trouble recalling the title. There was also a great book
about the Philadelphia Phillies and being a sports fan. That was True Believers by Joe Queenan. It is truly amazing how he chronicles the amount of time he has spent watching teams he loved (7 years) and teams he hated (4 years), time spent arguing sports (3 years) and time spent on eating, theater and laundry (1 year). His superstitions are also discussed -moving items, changing clothes , etc. You don't need to be a Philadelphia sports fan to identify but it helps.
One Book that made you Cry
Many many books about the Holocaust. What comes to mind is The Diary of Anne Frank, also I read 3 books about the Empress Josephine and sobbed like a baby at the end of the third The Last Grand Dance on Earth. This book really touched my heart so strongly. What an amazing woman she was and like my Jane Austen heroines so astute and self sacrificing. It would seem the women of the past shackled by society but with such grit and determination were able to achieve so much and be such an inspiration to future generations.
One Book you wish you had written
The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoeyevsky the characters are amazingly drawn and there are so many levels to the book. At any time in your life you could pick it up and identify with any of the three brothers Ivan for his cold intelligence, Alyosha the sensitive Priest and the brother we start with the impulsive Dmitri who is the central figure. The illegitimate brother Smerdyakov is begot by the rape of an idiot servant girl and I doubt anyone could identify with him. I went through a long period of reading Tolstoy, Turgenev and all of Solzhenitsyn. I would recommend Russian literature to anyone who loves reading.
One Book I wish had never been written
Probably Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler.
One Book I am currently reading
three I can't seem to push myself with - The Kite Runner, the latest Harry Potter, and Angels & Demons.
One Book I have been Meaning to Read
The Secret Life of Bees
That is very difficult for me since I've lived twice as long as everyone else.
I guess I would say Look Homeward Angel by Thomas Wolfe. It was a long
uneasy autobiographical book with a tremendous amount of Angst. It was an achievement to finish it. It wasn't until later talking to my college professor that I discovered the hypocracy and torture of this book. Thomas Wolfe was an anti-semite (perhaps another Mel Gibson) but had a long standing affair (20 years at least) with a married Jewish woman he first met as a shipboard romance.
One Book I've read More than Once.
There have been quite a few of those(mostly when I was younger;Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and Little Men for starters. In my middle years would be Jane Austen's Persuasion. It was a book that provided solace for me (almost like a 12-step inspirational book). The protagonist had suffered tremendously by allowing herself to be guided and swayed by the opinions of others. By standing by her principles and being the "wind beneath the wings" for those around her eventually had her virtue rewarded.
One Book I would want on a Desert Island.
That is really easy and no contest. The Complete Works of Jane Austen. The Complete Works of the Bronte Sisters not far behind. These books are like comfort food for me. They draw you into to another time but the characters are full blooded and real. They exhibit the frailties, foibles and strengths we all have or wish we had. It was a simpler time with interaction that wasn't computer generated and allowed for civility and constancy.
One Book that made me Laugh
I don't remember the essays at all anymore. I know I laughed hard and loud at the first. That would be Nora Ephron's book of essays called Crazy Salad. I had no trouble recalling the title. There was also a great book
about the Philadelphia Phillies and being a sports fan. That was True Believers by Joe Queenan. It is truly amazing how he chronicles the amount of time he has spent watching teams he loved (7 years) and teams he hated (4 years), time spent arguing sports (3 years) and time spent on eating, theater and laundry (1 year). His superstitions are also discussed -moving items, changing clothes , etc. You don't need to be a Philadelphia sports fan to identify but it helps.
One Book that made you Cry
Many many books about the Holocaust. What comes to mind is The Diary of Anne Frank, also I read 3 books about the Empress Josephine and sobbed like a baby at the end of the third The Last Grand Dance on Earth. This book really touched my heart so strongly. What an amazing woman she was and like my Jane Austen heroines so astute and self sacrificing. It would seem the women of the past shackled by society but with such grit and determination were able to achieve so much and be such an inspiration to future generations.
One Book you wish you had written
The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoeyevsky the characters are amazingly drawn and there are so many levels to the book. At any time in your life you could pick it up and identify with any of the three brothers Ivan for his cold intelligence, Alyosha the sensitive Priest and the brother we start with the impulsive Dmitri who is the central figure. The illegitimate brother Smerdyakov is begot by the rape of an idiot servant girl and I doubt anyone could identify with him. I went through a long period of reading Tolstoy, Turgenev and all of Solzhenitsyn. I would recommend Russian literature to anyone who loves reading.
One Book I wish had never been written
Probably Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler.
One Book I am currently reading
three I can't seem to push myself with - The Kite Runner, the latest Harry Potter, and Angels & Demons.
One Book I have been Meaning to Read
The Secret Life of Bees
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Tour de Chance
This blog was supposed to be about the Tour de France and then some other thoughts leaked in. So I will go first with the Tour and then branch out a bit. I love this tour. It is democratic and everyday brings new challenges and new excitement. Cyclists you never heard of representing Russia, the Ukraine on teams that had taken a second fiddle to Discovery for 7 years have suddenly stepped forward. Lance's retirement and Doping have removed key players and it is a free for all every single day. No team is controlling the break(s) or jersey and everyone seems nicer. It has become clear that without Lance there is not the same "will to win" or leadership on Discovery. Without Jan, and Ivan, and Valverde the other teams have risen and blossomed; like Rabobank making you wonder if what is being revealed is a level playing field sans drugs.
Insert - I now digress. I was driving to work on Friday and 3 teenage girls were pushing a car into Circle K (apparent car trouble) the two who were actually pushing were celebrity thin in shorts - the chunkier one of course apparently owned the car and so was steering. My thought (why is it that it is always the girl with the big ass that owns the car?
Back to something that actually belongs with the tour blog. It is refreshing that I don't have to pay Espn Insider or Rivals or Scout for News of the Tour. It is FREE! like Sports News used to be and should be. The Media creates an appetite for news. Without their McDonald's like marketing most of us would ignore Paris Hilton, and Angelina & not get worked up into a frenzy about something we don't care about; what is Politically Correct without Media Push? So Viva la France and Viva la Tour!
I wish Journalism was a bit more honorable but I think I will take that thought and just say Goodnight and Goodluck and save it for another post.
Insert - I now digress. I was driving to work on Friday and 3 teenage girls were pushing a car into Circle K (apparent car trouble) the two who were actually pushing were celebrity thin in shorts - the chunkier one of course apparently owned the car and so was steering. My thought (why is it that it is always the girl with the big ass that owns the car?
Back to something that actually belongs with the tour blog. It is refreshing that I don't have to pay Espn Insider or Rivals or Scout for News of the Tour. It is FREE! like Sports News used to be and should be. The Media creates an appetite for news. Without their McDonald's like marketing most of us would ignore Paris Hilton, and Angelina & not get worked up into a frenzy about something we don't care about; what is Politically Correct without Media Push? So Viva la France and Viva la Tour!
I wish Journalism was a bit more honorable but I think I will take that thought and just say Goodnight and Goodluck and save it for another post.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Driving School
I am a confirmed old speeder and likely to remain so. After all, Pickering - hmm oops got caught in my rewrite of a My Fair Lady song. This the tale of the dreaded 7 hours of a Saturday spent with strangers for having too heavy a foot in the wrong "zone." For the approximately 35 people trapped yesterday I think they all came away with the "this wasn't as bad as I expected" feeling. It was an amazingly interesting group with one thing in common; we had all been trapped in the Pilot Program in Scottsdale Arizona by cameras. No motorcycle cop stopped us- we were not in our home city - and had no idea until days later we had done anything wrong. We were innocently driving the 101 loop around the city (Phoenix) - mine was on the way to a Sunday Brunch, happy to be going to what would be a great gourmet experience.
Jeff who sat behind me got two - One going North and the other going South on the same road. The lady next to him got two just a couple of miles apart on the same day going in one direction. Whew!! made me feel lucky that I only got the one.
Yesterday was great from the time our teacher said his name was Montoya ( I kept thinking of Princess Bride and who in the class might have killed his father) til the end when we were released.
There were really good audio visual aids. I sat next to a woman who was publishing a book on Travel, and another who's son-in-law was a pitcher for the Sidewinders. Both had recently moved to Tucson from more intelligent places on the planet. The conversation was lively. Three people were actually told to reschedule when they came back very late from lunch (they probably killed Montoya's father).
There were of course a few who should have been wearing signs that said "Just Stupid." One guy I am sure will be divorced by the time he gets his next ticket. He wanted to know why they pinned this on him when the car was jointly owned by him and his wife; just because it was his picture on the camera. He gets the "just stupid" and the "no loyalty to spouse" awards in the same day and Oh he has to reschedule.
So for me the strangers I met were a whole lot more interesting than the people I know in Tucson, so the day was not lost. And oh yes the residual effect is that I will drive slower and wear my seatbelt. So I guess it was a day well spent.
Jeff who sat behind me got two - One going North and the other going South on the same road. The lady next to him got two just a couple of miles apart on the same day going in one direction. Whew!! made me feel lucky that I only got the one.
Yesterday was great from the time our teacher said his name was Montoya ( I kept thinking of Princess Bride and who in the class might have killed his father) til the end when we were released.
There were really good audio visual aids. I sat next to a woman who was publishing a book on Travel, and another who's son-in-law was a pitcher for the Sidewinders. Both had recently moved to Tucson from more intelligent places on the planet. The conversation was lively. Three people were actually told to reschedule when they came back very late from lunch (they probably killed Montoya's father).
There were of course a few who should have been wearing signs that said "Just Stupid." One guy I am sure will be divorced by the time he gets his next ticket. He wanted to know why they pinned this on him when the car was jointly owned by him and his wife; just because it was his picture on the camera. He gets the "just stupid" and the "no loyalty to spouse" awards in the same day and Oh he has to reschedule.
So for me the strangers I met were a whole lot more interesting than the people I know in Tucson, so the day was not lost. And oh yes the residual effect is that I will drive slower and wear my seatbelt. So I guess it was a day well spent.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Abusive Doctors
Doctors like Priests and Lawyers are given not only our sacred trust but the most intimate secrets of our being; our personal medical mysteries and secrets. While the discovery channel has us look in high esteem at these self effacing, brilliant, charitable Doctors who defy all odds to make medical miracles happen the reality check of real life is that many are found wanting, and are the antithesis of what Physicians should be.
Have you ever been afraid of your doctor or felt side-swiped by their lack of compassion and understanding? Today I ventured hopefully through the doors of my *new gynecologist's office for the first time; I will not pass that way again. While I arrived early it was not early enough. She sat down next to me 40 mins past my scheduled time and told me because I had not come the full 15 mins early she required, she had let the next patient (scheduled a half hour after me) see her first.
I am 60 years old. I do not need to be punished by my doctor for breaking her 15 min rule.
She proceeded to take my medical history. I have had a Hysterectomy (no ovaries- no estrogen); I was on Hormone Replacement Therapy until Breast Cancer made me ineligible for continuing with it.
I mention that only because, with her less than delicate examination, when she drew blood, it was my fault for being estrogenless.
She was haughty and cold and truly eligible for that 4 letter word nice people don't use when talking about women. She made me ponder my relationship with Female Doctors of which I have now had five. I can truly say though I have been a feminist since the '70's, I have only had one female doctor I would not only recommend, but praise.
The others have been cold, lacking that humane loving bedside manner and unable to communicate any feeling of compassion. In their desire to be as efficient and as tough as their male counterparts they seem to have lost the tenderness and nurturing that should be part of their makeup.
They certainly don't seem to see a difference between a healthy person needing a firm hand and a person who goes in and out the revolving door of doctor's offices because of a myriad of issues, who needs a gentle touch.
I do; and I shall NOT be choosing another female doctor.
Have you ever been afraid of your doctor or felt side-swiped by their lack of compassion and understanding? Today I ventured hopefully through the doors of my *new gynecologist's office for the first time; I will not pass that way again. While I arrived early it was not early enough. She sat down next to me 40 mins past my scheduled time and told me because I had not come the full 15 mins early she required, she had let the next patient (scheduled a half hour after me) see her first.
I am 60 years old. I do not need to be punished by my doctor for breaking her 15 min rule.
She proceeded to take my medical history. I have had a Hysterectomy (no ovaries- no estrogen); I was on Hormone Replacement Therapy until Breast Cancer made me ineligible for continuing with it.
I mention that only because, with her less than delicate examination, when she drew blood, it was my fault for being estrogenless.
She was haughty and cold and truly eligible for that 4 letter word nice people don't use when talking about women. She made me ponder my relationship with Female Doctors of which I have now had five. I can truly say though I have been a feminist since the '70's, I have only had one female doctor I would not only recommend, but praise.
The others have been cold, lacking that humane loving bedside manner and unable to communicate any feeling of compassion. In their desire to be as efficient and as tough as their male counterparts they seem to have lost the tenderness and nurturing that should be part of their makeup.
They certainly don't seem to see a difference between a healthy person needing a firm hand and a person who goes in and out the revolving door of doctor's offices because of a myriad of issues, who needs a gentle touch.
I do; and I shall NOT be choosing another female doctor.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Phans
As long as I can remember I have been the epitome of a loyal, diehard, emotionally invested fan. From the age of 5 I was going to ball games with my parents and watching those phabulous philadelphia phillies - then known as the whiz kids. One of the players owned a bowling alley and we went there - I could name them all back then - Stan Lopata - Robin Roberts - Richie Ashburn - I think all of the players were white. Costa Rica and Puerto Rico and the Negro League were not even whispered in hushed tones. I think their second baseman was involved in a minor sexual scandal with a 13 year old girl (he was probably from Arkansas where they didnt know any better anyway). But no one really talked about it. You went to Connie Mack Stadium and you kept score. Not in a magazine but in one of those fold over cards with one of those awful stubby yellow pencils; and everyone really paid close attention cause this was important stuff.
And you grew up and the phillies pholded in September like Phil Mickelson did in the Open last Sunday - a phenomenal implosion that is still talked about and compared to the biggest chokes ever. But they were tired and the pitchers had no relief and Gene Mauch did the best he could.
And you moved away and there was no internet and no one in Chicago cared about the Phillies except you. And you couldn't become emotionally invested in the Cubs because the Phillies were already sucking the life blood out of you. Always giving you hope and then dropping you from the skyscraper of dreams into some horrible huge crash onto pavement; to be pitied for once more believing in them. Mike Schmidt came to Wrigley and smashed 4 home runs in one day and you wondered at this "superman" (gee i hope he didn't take steroids and hgh) and they gave you Kruk and Daulton and Dykstra and all was great cause now everyone loved the Phillies just like you.
Back to the Abyss and roller coaster ride and all the players who hated playing there or wouldn't even go there starting with Curt Flood and JD Drew; Rolen couldnt get out of town fast enough....They knew. Phillies and their Phans were in Sports Purgatory.
Finally, in my late 50's I had to give them up. They were going to kill me - emotionally I was vanquished. I divorced them and though I listen to them on the internet and I follow their exploits I can't invest - not like I used to.
I turned my attention totally back to college sports and just as I was now going overboard in my emotional investment in Penn State Football; Joe Paterno forgot how to recruit or coach and I thought I would die. That was the one area where we could be cocky - sitting on the top of the College Football Sports world was "our entitlement" because Joe did it right. He recruited only good kids, who studied and never had sex, never committed crimes and always showed respect for their elders. Then it all imploded at once. Bad Kids - lousy recruits - - kids in trouble - and we couldn't beat Michigan. When we couldn't beat Northwestern - when we could only get 2 safeties against Iowa. I thought death could not come soon enough. I had been reduced to being worried about Akron. Temple played us tough. We lost to a MAC school. Where would the humiliation end?
There was this glorious resurgence in 2005 at Penn State. The season flew by. Every game, except one, turned out right for the guys in the white helmets. I do have my beloved Nittany Lions who even in the worst of times are the epitome of sportsmanship. I now follow every NFL team that has a Penn State Player; Sundays are fun with out any emotional drain. Ah! The pure Joie d' Athletic.
Now I thought, with a new coach in Philadelphia maybe I could turn my attention back to the Phillies. Nope. It is always something. They have the bats but no pitching. They have the pitchers but they are all on the disabled list. They lose leads and turn slaughters into nail biters. I see now it isnt about the Sundays; it isn't about the Saturdays. The Phan thing that started it all will always be about those dysfunctional phillies and my emotional investment and the Sports Baggage I carry with me.
And you grew up and the phillies pholded in September like Phil Mickelson did in the Open last Sunday - a phenomenal implosion that is still talked about and compared to the biggest chokes ever. But they were tired and the pitchers had no relief and Gene Mauch did the best he could.
And you moved away and there was no internet and no one in Chicago cared about the Phillies except you. And you couldn't become emotionally invested in the Cubs because the Phillies were already sucking the life blood out of you. Always giving you hope and then dropping you from the skyscraper of dreams into some horrible huge crash onto pavement; to be pitied for once more believing in them. Mike Schmidt came to Wrigley and smashed 4 home runs in one day and you wondered at this "superman" (gee i hope he didn't take steroids and hgh) and they gave you Kruk and Daulton and Dykstra and all was great cause now everyone loved the Phillies just like you.
Back to the Abyss and roller coaster ride and all the players who hated playing there or wouldn't even go there starting with Curt Flood and JD Drew; Rolen couldnt get out of town fast enough....They knew. Phillies and their Phans were in Sports Purgatory.
Finally, in my late 50's I had to give them up. They were going to kill me - emotionally I was vanquished. I divorced them and though I listen to them on the internet and I follow their exploits I can't invest - not like I used to.
I turned my attention totally back to college sports and just as I was now going overboard in my emotional investment in Penn State Football; Joe Paterno forgot how to recruit or coach and I thought I would die. That was the one area where we could be cocky - sitting on the top of the College Football Sports world was "our entitlement" because Joe did it right. He recruited only good kids, who studied and never had sex, never committed crimes and always showed respect for their elders. Then it all imploded at once. Bad Kids - lousy recruits - - kids in trouble - and we couldn't beat Michigan. When we couldn't beat Northwestern - when we could only get 2 safeties against Iowa. I thought death could not come soon enough. I had been reduced to being worried about Akron. Temple played us tough. We lost to a MAC school. Where would the humiliation end?
There was this glorious resurgence in 2005 at Penn State. The season flew by. Every game, except one, turned out right for the guys in the white helmets. I do have my beloved Nittany Lions who even in the worst of times are the epitome of sportsmanship. I now follow every NFL team that has a Penn State Player; Sundays are fun with out any emotional drain. Ah! The pure Joie d' Athletic.
Now I thought, with a new coach in Philadelphia maybe I could turn my attention back to the Phillies. Nope. It is always something. They have the bats but no pitching. They have the pitchers but they are all on the disabled list. They lose leads and turn slaughters into nail biters. I see now it isnt about the Sundays; it isn't about the Saturdays. The Phan thing that started it all will always be about those dysfunctional phillies and my emotional investment and the Sports Baggage I carry with me.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Grown Up Guilt
When you are small, meaning a non-adult; pushed around child - Guilt is thrust upon you. Those starving people in Africa (the non-dieters). You take on - all the "what have I done to deserve this stuff?"If your father only knew - I think Guilt is especially dealt by Moms, don't you? You arrive at adulthood and you do all the wrong things, but you can't admit that.... Cause YOU're the MOM. But you feel it. Deep Down you know. You weren't there for their first basketball game, or any subsequent game. You were too busy dealing with the Karma of a horrible job, or a really bad marriage. You needed to escape and there weren't anymore pieces of you left to give away - YOU were drained - devoid - in your thirties being the super mom - who worked and cleaned and cooked - and got little love or attention - you were supposed to vanish in thin air. The MOM MYSTIQUE.
And then you are fifty - the marriage is over - you have changed jobs - you have moved and given up the hobby that took you away from the misery (whether it was bridge or volleyball or a raucous affair)
And you feel that gnawing GROWN UP GUILT and you need to make it up to the kids. Forget the husbands it was always all their fault right from the GET GO. Their fault you went through labor and got fat and made you feel undesirable and didn't earn enough so you had to work and do everything.
So now you are Guilt ridden and think can I fill up their weekends and be all things and everywhere? Can I help them clean and take them to dinner and anything else because I have this Guilt and Maybe just Maybe if I am all that self sacrificing Mom to them now they will forget I wasn't there when they were little.
Nah it ain't gonna happen. You are lucky if they like you. It would take special dispensation from somewhere not of this world, to get rid of that Grown UP Guilt.
And then you are fifty - the marriage is over - you have changed jobs - you have moved and given up the hobby that took you away from the misery (whether it was bridge or volleyball or a raucous affair)
And you feel that gnawing GROWN UP GUILT and you need to make it up to the kids. Forget the husbands it was always all their fault right from the GET GO. Their fault you went through labor and got fat and made you feel undesirable and didn't earn enough so you had to work and do everything.
So now you are Guilt ridden and think can I fill up their weekends and be all things and everywhere? Can I help them clean and take them to dinner and anything else because I have this Guilt and Maybe just Maybe if I am all that self sacrificing Mom to them now they will forget I wasn't there when they were little.
Nah it ain't gonna happen. You are lucky if they like you. It would take special dispensation from somewhere not of this world, to get rid of that Grown UP Guilt.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Intellectual Curiosity
So I don't know what turns techno teens on - I doubt any of them (being all A.D.& D. and on Ritalin) could sit still long enough to read the encyclopedia. I know when I was young I had lots of friends who spent half their free time looking obscure things up and knowing stuff no 12 year old in their right mind would know.
I for one, did my 8th grade science presentation on lobotomies because I had read my brother's college psychology text book and found it fascinating. But I digress from the real motivation for this blog.
I got suckered in by the DNA hype i was reading about on CNN, and in the Newspapers - and about the National Geographic Genographic project. I needed to be the first person on my block to DNA swab so I could tell my family where we went Out of Africa - what route we took - and who were in our Haplogroup.
I was driven. I did it - I got the kit - was assigned a number - did the swab thing and checked on the Internet Daily for my Results. I read the FAQ's and was delighted I hadn't been sent back from DNA analysis all the way back to batch control. I was patient and conscientious about the project. Friday I got my results.
MY DNA never got out of Africa. I this red-haired pale freckled white woman had the DNA of African Americans - My starting point was the Bantu's in East Africa. I do not know if it is fashionable to be a member of the L2 Haplogroup and the fact that we never got out of Africa doesn't surprise me as I move very slowly.
They are so vague and the universality of being an L2 haplogroup leads me to believe midgets in Cambodia have my DNA so there you go another Diana Ross wannabe hiding in a Nitzberg body.
So when I found this out on Friday just before I left work my first thought was (since this group is indicative of African Americans) that I should start walking up to Black Women - call them sisters and tell them I was a Bantu and hope they didn't call 911 and try to have me committed. But instead I turned to one of the white women on my team and said I am just gonna get my black ass out of here - have a great weekend.
I for one, did my 8th grade science presentation on lobotomies because I had read my brother's college psychology text book and found it fascinating. But I digress from the real motivation for this blog.
I got suckered in by the DNA hype i was reading about on CNN, and in the Newspapers - and about the National Geographic Genographic project. I needed to be the first person on my block to DNA swab so I could tell my family where we went Out of Africa - what route we took - and who were in our Haplogroup.
I was driven. I did it - I got the kit - was assigned a number - did the swab thing and checked on the Internet Daily for my Results. I read the FAQ's and was delighted I hadn't been sent back from DNA analysis all the way back to batch control. I was patient and conscientious about the project. Friday I got my results.
MY DNA never got out of Africa. I this red-haired pale freckled white woman had the DNA of African Americans - My starting point was the Bantu's in East Africa. I do not know if it is fashionable to be a member of the L2 Haplogroup and the fact that we never got out of Africa doesn't surprise me as I move very slowly.
They are so vague and the universality of being an L2 haplogroup leads me to believe midgets in Cambodia have my DNA so there you go another Diana Ross wannabe hiding in a Nitzberg body.
So when I found this out on Friday just before I left work my first thought was (since this group is indicative of African Americans) that I should start walking up to Black Women - call them sisters and tell them I was a Bantu and hope they didn't call 911 and try to have me committed. But instead I turned to one of the white women on my team and said I am just gonna get my black ass out of here - have a great weekend.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Daughters Leave
I missed the whole mother daughter thing when I was growing up. My sister was able to achieve having that relationship with our mother and our stepmother - I left. I left my mother's side psychologically early... hmmm maybe not so early but the leaving was inevitable and reinforced over and over and over.
My mother left when I was 15 - she really left my sister and dad - they cried. I was relieved. I didn't have to be reminded again and again daily - that I was not the preferred one.
It doesn't matter anymore - Mom left my life or the worldly life 14 years ago. But she invaded my spirit and possessed my soul - haunted me with the unfinished stuff of relationships.
Amazingly my sister who had lived a happy mother and daughter life had two sons. I of course was forced to renew a different hell with a recalcitrant, analytical independent daughter.
Which brings me almost to the incredible stuff of the title. She also left me psychologically very early on- our relationship for twenty years was like the blackboard and chalk; like cinderella's stepsisters we grated and screeched and wriggled uncomfortably together....
then out of the blue, when I finally had serenity and peace in my life - she announced she wanted to live with me. At my insistence - we had to get all the shards and puzzle pieces out of the box and lock ourselves in a quiet place to have one of those relationship epiphanies and we did.
And for eleven years I had that glorious mother daughter thing - we shopped and ate lunch and did our nails and had dinner ... we chatted about the day and yesterday and tomorrow
Daughters leave - and she did. She is in Virginia and I am in Tucson and all those cities have in common is that T & V are letters at the end of the alphabet.
There is a good piece that goes here - psychologically we are melded like the pinochle couple so the Daughter Left but it is only miles that divide us.
My mother left when I was 15 - she really left my sister and dad - they cried. I was relieved. I didn't have to be reminded again and again daily - that I was not the preferred one.
It doesn't matter anymore - Mom left my life or the worldly life 14 years ago. But she invaded my spirit and possessed my soul - haunted me with the unfinished stuff of relationships.
Amazingly my sister who had lived a happy mother and daughter life had two sons. I of course was forced to renew a different hell with a recalcitrant, analytical independent daughter.
Which brings me almost to the incredible stuff of the title. She also left me psychologically very early on- our relationship for twenty years was like the blackboard and chalk; like cinderella's stepsisters we grated and screeched and wriggled uncomfortably together....
then out of the blue, when I finally had serenity and peace in my life - she announced she wanted to live with me. At my insistence - we had to get all the shards and puzzle pieces out of the box and lock ourselves in a quiet place to have one of those relationship epiphanies and we did.
And for eleven years I had that glorious mother daughter thing - we shopped and ate lunch and did our nails and had dinner ... we chatted about the day and yesterday and tomorrow
Daughters leave - and she did. She is in Virginia and I am in Tucson and all those cities have in common is that T & V are letters at the end of the alphabet.
There is a good piece that goes here - psychologically we are melded like the pinochle couple so the Daughter Left but it is only miles that divide us.
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