Life In Progress

Anniversary: January 8, 2004

2012-01-09T13:22:00.000-08:00

The radio played a song from the Beatles Abbey Road album, softly, as the car hummed along the road way. As it was late afternoon and traffic was building to the inevitable climax known as rush hour, the smell of newly-laid asphalt drifted through the slit of the driver side window. Stop, first at one light and then another, snaking along the two-laned avenue. The last in a line of cars creeping homeward...It wasn't until I extended my leg toward the accelerator, pushing my body forward and glancing into the rear view mirror that I heard the sudden crunch of metal, breaking glass and felt a wave of something up my spine...

The paramedic unit further along the street, which was about to return to its station, stopped, and all of the first responders came running...I was told a woman had hit me in a rear-end collision at about 45-50 miles per hour...

Strapped down. unable to move my neck and head, I was taken to an area hospital. Though in shock, nothing was broken or bleeding, merely bruised. I was eventually released with a stern warning to see my own doctors within the week and return if further symptoms developed...

In the eighteen months that followed, I saw doctors, physiotherapist, chiropractor, massage therapist and two acupuncturists, none of whom could provide any answer regarding the chronic pain that appeared to plague the left SI area of my low back.

Finally discharged from treatment, I was told that I would simply have to live with the situation, that nothing further could be done. Dutifully following medical advice to stretch, my alarm grew exponentially when one morning, I found it nearly impossible to get out of bed due to pain and pronounced spasm.

Seen the following day at the medical school's clinic near my home, the doctor said my back was visibly spasming and that I should return to my chiropractor, who was, as it turned out, unavailable. Instead, I called another physician in private practice whom I had seen for something else, explained the situation and asked if she might know where I could possibly go for relief.

That conversation was a godsend. I was referred to a small, private physiotherapy clinic specialising in back care. A four-month regime of pain reduction, continual core and back strengthening, some restricted activities, and work outs, supplemented by daily stretching left me pain-free for the next two years. It wasn't until my knee was wrecked and I began using a wheelchair that my back once again became a concern, since sitting exacerbates the original problem.

I now stretch daily and see my physiotherapist regularly. Soft tissue injuries such as this can appear deceptively minor. The bills from the original accident mounted into thousands, and I was able to have them paid with the aid of an attorney. In the years since, I have spent increasing amounts for physiotherapy, fitness specialists and trainers not covered by insurance, even as the cost of insurance has skyrocketed.

That said, I am grateful to be writing these words, happy that these events weren't much worse, as they so easily might have been. Eight years on, I know that all doctors, physiotherapists, hospitals and allied health professionals are not created equally, so to speak, and that the healthcare system many like to rave about here is, in fact, difficult to navigate and in many instances, inefficient and broken.

I have poured over articles from both medical and training journals which told me things about this injury which my doctors and other professionals should have known, including the fact that the majority of injuries of this kind are the direct result of rear-end collisions.

If any of you were to experience these things, I would suggest doing your own research and turning over every stone until you find qualified help. If they cannot provide answers, keep looking and learn what you must do to take care of yourself.

Until Next Time...

@###@& And Other Nasties From Upper Respiratory Hell...

2012-01-05T15:52:00.000-08:00

I knew one of the Y's teeming numbers of little kids with runny noses would eventually do me in....
Last night, I crawled in bed exhausted at eight, slept until one and then into the late morning. It was not until I was fully conscious that I realised I was ill, something I have not been in over two years.

My day has been spent sleeping between large cups of hot tea and homeopathics and I've cancelled my appointments for the rest of the week. I was planning a couple of funny posts but those will wait until I feel at least somewhat human. My mother used to refer to sleep as beauty rest. If only rest would make us beautiful. At the moment, I feel quite ratty, and look it as well...

First Post For 2012!

2012-01-01T17:00:00.000-08:00

Fireworks ushered in the New Year in my neighbourhood last night . The felines barely concealed their contempt for the noise, alternately yowling madly and ducking beneath furniture. Before arriving home for what I hoped would be an early night, I spent a lovely afternoon with a friend and her sister-in-law. We saw War Horse which I enjoyed though if you go, I'd recommend bringing along tissues. Having seen the film, I'm searching out the book, originally written for older children, in which the story is narrated from the horse's perspective. It takes place in Europe just prior to and during World War I. When the film ended, I turned to my friend and remarked that I'd always liked horses better than people, and this film confirmed that for me. While there are things worth dying for, the older I become, the list of those things grows shorter.

Last Sunday was the fifth day of Hanukkah as well as Christmas and I, along with others from our synagogue, volunteered to help at a local charity which provides meals and other services to the homeless. Initially concerned about wheelchair access, I was assured that this would not be an issue since we would be working in a large tent with solid flooring. Things went smoothly in that regard and I found myself stuffing backpacks with ladies underwear and socks and handing them out. Nearly all of those who came through my line were alone, but there were mothers with children, elderly men and women and whole families in evidence in that tent as well. Many looked as though they could use medical or dental assistance which is next to impossible to obtain here without a permanent address. People from various sectors say that things are looking up, but how can that be when unemployment remains high, wages are stagnant and the numbers of people in need of food banks, free school lunches for their children, social services and homeless shelters appear to be increasing?

Midweek saw me traveling across town to meet the trainer my physiotherapist recommended. She seems knowledgeable, interested in working with me and confident that I can meet the goals I've set for myself. The only drawback was having to wait for an extended period for the bus ride back to the flat. As the day was beautiful and cool, I did not mind being outdoors until a total stranger approached, prayed over me in the name of Jesus, and departed, though none too swiftly for my liking. She was completely oblivious to the Star of David around my neck and the fact that I kept my eyes focused on the magazine I was reading. I wonder if she makes a habit of preying on people in wheelchairs...

Happy 2012 everyone.

Until Next Time...

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, A Wonderful 2012

2011-12-24T12:04:00.000-08:00

To all of my readers,

The Happiest of Christmases and a wonderful 2012! To those who are celebrating Chanukah, enjoy your families and friends and I hope 2012 brings wonderful things to each of you.

The Lost Art Of Mingling...

2011-12-12T15:08:00.000-08:00

I've always been a person who could get along in almost any social circumstance. While I am rather reserved by nature, those who do not know me well often assume that I am shy when, in fact, I am taking in whatever is going on around me. My friends and colleagues know I rarely miss a trick. In a former life, I often did interviews, and learned how to observe. Both are part of any good writer's stock in trade.

The other evening, I attended a singles function and deliberately sat with a table of strangers thinking that perhaps I might draw out one of them and have an interesting chat. What happened instead was that the group at my table became an audience for the only actor in the room who had just finished a film. Here was a man full of funny stories and jokes who knew how to work at least our part of the room. The end result was that no-one at our table had a chance to meet anyone else. I also noticed, however, that those at other tables stayed to themselves and only spoke to people with whom they were already acquainted.

My standard question after introducing myself generally involves asking about the others line of work as this is not too personal. That was met with, "Well, why don't we wait till everyone sits so I don't have to repeat myself?" More than a question, it was a rebuff. I will not ask this of the same individual should we meet again. At similar functions, I am usually eventually cornered by someone curious about my chair, if not me. Even that was a non-starter in this particular group.

All of this begs the question, whatever happened to mingling? Are we all so enthralled with our mobiles and access to the Internet that we've lost the art of face-to-face conversation? Perhaps middle and late middle aged adults have become so jaded that they no longer enjoy meeting others? If true, then why attend at all?

What do you think?

Any Chess Players Out There?

2011-12-08T18:17:00.000-08:00

My computer came with an electronic chess board. I never really learned to play as none of my childhood friends enjoyed the game. The closest I came was when my by now long deceased cousin attempted to teach me the moves of each piece on the board. That was my first and last lesson. He was eleven and I was sixteen. That was a lifetime ago.

What brought this to mind, in addition to the electronic game on this iMac, was a French film. Entitled Queen to Play in English and La Joueuse in France, it was released in the U.S. earlier this year and features wonderful performances by Kevin Kline and Sandrine Bonnaire. Bonnaire plays a maid in a small Corsican hotel who chances upon a couple, played by Kline and Jennifer Beals, engrossed in a game of chess. At first startled to find them on the balcony of their room when she comes to clean, Bonnaire's character, Helene, finds herself entranced by the intensity she witnesses. She soon asks Kline, who plays an irascible American doctor, to help her learn the game. While he does so rather begrudgingly at the start, Kline's character soon realises Helene's quiet intelligence, something that isn't given much notice in her life as a housewife and mother or as a hotel cleaner.

The transformation that occurs in Helene begins subtly enough. She purchases a chess set and, unable to interest either her husband or daughter in the game, begins playing against herself after her family has gone to bed at night. Quickly reaching the limit of what she can learn on her own, She enlists Kline's assistance and having faced familial resistance to her increasing fascination with chess, meets with him secretly. As her prowess with the game increases, Kline is soon outclassed and he sends her to a colleague who is a master at competitive chess. She applies to play competitively and is accepted. The film concludes with Helene winning all the rounds with more experienced players than she and emerging as a champion. Her family and friends, who initially see chess as simply a silly game, come to realise the grueling nature of the matches and the mental effort and strategy necessary to complete competition. For herself, Helene begins to radiate a newly-found confidence and pride of accomplishment. This little gem of a film is also the debut for director Caroline Bottaro and is now available on DVD.

While I don't see myself becoming a chess champion, the allure Helene experienced exists for me as well, so much so, in fact, that I am seeking a teacher or a club for adults.

Until Next Time...

Replacing Jane Austen

2011-12-05T10:55:00.000-08:00

My copy of Jane Austen's complete novels has seen better days, the last of which happened in May when the flat was water soaked and the book was used by one of the workers to keep table legs from the wet floor. As you might imagine, I was a bit annoyed upon this discovery but since the pages were loose, the binding cracked from wear and it dated from 1980, I suppose the workers cleaning up the mess saw no harm in using it.

Venturing online to my library system two weeks ago, I was surprised to see only one two-volume set of Austen's complete novels available for borrowing, and one of the two is listed as lost or stolen. As the budget for replacement of lost items is minuscule due to budget cuts, I decided to buy an Austen compilation. This, of course, meant visiting Amazon and other booksellers. You might think that purchasing this item would take mere minutes. However, the dearth of materials available from Jane Austen are rivaled by those about her. There are books on manners and etiquette, tomes on her letters and scads of books written by various Austen scholars. I even spied an Austen-inspired cookbook containing recipes from the period in which she lived. Other books devote themselves to the particulars of Regency England and the expectations for a woman of Austen's class and beyond.

I scoured buyer's reviews of the available compilations, primarily to see which were annotated or illustrated and how each held up with light-to-average use. Not surprisingly, I quickly ruled out most large paperbacks and began looking at used books for a decent hardback copy that was under ten dollars. I also decided to buy a complete compilation and donate it to the library system.

My Saturday morning visit to the regional library in my neighbourhood saw the usual patrons, parents with small children, teens, legions of adults with laptops, and others using the library's computers. I am usually the only wheelchair user about the place, a subject for another post. Waiting for a quiet moment at the desk, I offered the book to the two librarians, who were thrilled with the addition. I wondered silently how many people approach them with donations of this kind.

In a state without state income tax, notorious for low property taxes and fewer taxes than are found in other regions of the U.S., we are too often told that budget cuts are the cause underlying lack of services, when in fact, strained budgets are but a symptom. With stagnant wages in an area dominated by low wage jobs, working people are reluctant to pay higher taxes while the wealthy pursue tax breaks. I read recently that while poverty is increasing, Americans of all backgrounds remain amongst the most generous and charitably minded, two sobering thoughts during this season.

Until Next Time...

Rainy Days And Catching Up...

2011-11-28T14:02:00.000-08:00

It is raining and dreary here today. After the glorious weather of the last couple of weeks, it's rather a let down although I suspect Mother Nature always knows what she is doing. I was invited for Thanksgiving festivities at the home of a friend and his partner at which four generations were present, from age 92 down to three weeks. It was a wonderful time, and everyone seemed genuinely happy to be there. Friday, my generous hosts came by the flat and took me to lunch. Over the weekend, I completed holiday shopping and had the flat cleaned by a neighbour, all without breaking my budget.

Sunday as I was foraging in the fridge and pantry, it occurred to me that the ingredients for a potentially tasty vegetarian stew were to hand. The recipe, which was more of a happy accident than any planning, is listed here. I must stress that my cooking is very basic. I strive for taste and nutrition. This recipe can be easily altered should your taste be different than mine.

Ingredients

1 pound dried Red Lentils, washed and sorted
2 Large Red Potatoes, washed and cubed
2 Cups Turnip Greens, Fresh or Frozen, chopped
6 Organic Carrots, washed and chopped
2 Cups Organic Vegetable Broth
2-4 Cups Water, depending upon desired consistency
3 Tablespoons Light Olive Oil
Generous portion of Ground Coriander, to taste

Method

Cube potatoes and cut carrots
Add Olive Oil to Slow Cooker and gradually add in and cook carrots and potatoes until slightly softened. Add remaining ingredients and cook on low setting for about two hours. I used frozen Turnip Greens, but spinach or another veg of your choosing could be used.
Add the coriander and stir through in the final hour of cooking.

Do not substitute fresh celantro for the ground coriander. Both have distinctly different flavours. Coriander is the seeds of the celantro plant roasted and ground, from what I read.

This was actually better the second day. My neighbour, who was not raised eating lots of veg, tasted this and then wanted some to take home. He loved it. That made my day.

I also have a wonderful recipe from Shaheen, a blogger in Scotland. Her blog, allotment2kitchen, is always a fun and interesting read for me as I like vegan recipes that are nutritious and fun to make. She is lovely about answering any cooking-related concern. Thanks, Shaheen!

Until Next Time...

So, What Are You Reading?

2011-11-20T18:17:00.000-08:00

I get asked this question a lot, along with, "Why don't you post your reading selections?"

Basically, it boils down to three things:

Hap hazard reading as I await the bus or while in line for one thing and another. The books for such occasions range from popular fiction or thrillers to books telling me why my cat does as he likes. The more serious reading materials reside in a stack on my bedside table. There are two such items at the moment:

The Elephant's Journey, a novel by the unfortunately late, Jose Saramago, a Nobel Prize recipient.
The New Frugality by Chris Farrell. Farrell is the resident economic/finance guru for American Public Media's programme, Marketplace Money, which I sometimes catch on NPR.

I've just finished the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, about which you can read at the Virtual Book Club blog. There is a link to the VBC on my profile page.

Additionally, I make no claim to endorse a book or author simply because I read. Your tastes may rest with a genre or author I don't especially care for. Reading is a lot like eating. Sometimes a quick burger does the trick while other occasions are reserved for fine dining. I do not enjoy feeling like people expect me to tell them what to read simply because I happen to be a librarian.

Finally, I enjoy the freedom to try new books and authors without the pressure of critiquing every word or nuance. As someone who knows personally the agony of facing an empty page when one is expected to produce for others, I try to look at any book as a writer might. Good writers take risks, and they don't always have the expected results as far as reader reaction is concerned.

I'll leave you with this: I am currently searching for a well loved collection of Jane Austen novels since mine, which dates from the Dark Ages otherwise known as university, is no longer available.

Happy reading.

Unti Next Time...

Treasures: A Theme Thursday Post

2011-11-17T13:27:00.000-08:00

My treasures as a child included books sent to me by the various Aunts in my mother's family. These included E.B. White's Stuart Little, Charlotte's Web, Anne of Green Gables and Lamb's Shakespeare For Children. My maternal grandmother contributed to my reading horizons by keeping and permitting me to read original editions of Nancy Drew and the Bobbsey Twins which I believe had belonged to my mother.

A Tale of Two Cities, Johnny Tremain and Jack London's Call of the Wild were likewise devoured as was Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. I also enjoyed Madeleine L'Engle's series and by high school, had cracked open Jane Austen for the first time, along with Walden Pond, Silas Marner, and Shakespeare. Chekov plays were next and then, oddly, I began to read history, biography and eventually found my way into economics and the books of American academic Robert Reich. A friend introduced me to Camus and Zola, which I read in translation. During my undergraduate days I took several Spanish lit classes, sampling the literature from Spain through the Americas and Caribbean.

Today, sadly, my cache of books is small as I no longer buy but borrow from libraries and friends. Other treasures include my cats and a collection of art depicting parts of my childhood home in Panama, a small jewel of a country most often only known for its canal.

Reading widely and often is a habit first cultivated by my mother and grandmother. It has been a gift and treasure beyond measure. While possessions pass through my life, pets lives end and homes alter, I have been able to share books and all that can enliven the imagination or spark ideas or discussion.

What treasures remain important to you?

Until Next Time...

Garage Band...And Other Thoughts...

2011-11-15T12:35:00.000-08:00

One of the great things about my iMac is its music software known as Garage Band. Apparently, one can play piano, guitar or download art lessons from the Web. I've always loved music, and sang in a couple of choirs growing up. During my high school years, I took basic music theory by correspondence, eventually learning to sight read.

Unfortunately, I grew up with a mother who found piano practice horrible and abandoned the piano, never to return. When as a little girl, I asked for lessons, I was told they were a waste of money. The same was said when I asked whether I might learn to ride a bicycle. My art classes in high school were seen merely as a means to obtain extra credits toward graduation, as were the English classes in which my teachers encouraged the writing of essays, short stories and poems. Though I continued to receive praise for these from students and teachers alike, my parents said little.

It was not until my first foray into graduate education that I stumbled into a small newspaper job on campus. It involved clerical tasks rather than writing but did open the door for feature writing and producing a regular op-ed column, both of which solidified my writing skills, garnering regular readers as well as a stalker, at one point. There were companies and individuals in search of writers and while freelancing did not make me rich, it provided a respectable living and a portfolio of published work which grew with time and experience.

Because a freelancer is always in search of work and must always make the monthly bills, I became adept at budgeting, both time and money. Living on a shoestring meant that I could not travel, expect health insurance or spend on "extras." It also meant, however, that I was the one in control of my time, something my friends in the corporate world envied. A recession in the mid-nineties sent me into the job market for several years, working several lower wrung jobs for which this state is well known. I began looking for opportunities to leave and while I was granted interviews elsewhere, hiring never followed.

I wrote PR pieces and marketing copy, eventually realising the love-hate nature of my relationship to writing. It, like other endeavors, was seen as a means to an end. Rarely, if ever, did I focus on the creative aspect. It seemed, upon reflection, that I had absorbed the idea that writing for the "fun" of it, an attitude which characterized my earliest days as a writer, was frivolous, something gleaned from the parental silences of my adolescence.

Writing, like the love of music in my youth, took a backseat to earning more money when I could find work. Now, having removed myself from that world, time is once again in abundance. A friend recently asked what I would like to do. I quite characteristically responded with a list of ideas which had been popping in my head:

Go to Europe
Learn Hebrew and French
Keep reading and writing in Spanish
Learn to play the electronic Chess game that came with my iMac
Find out how to use Garage Band
Write more interesting posts and return to the story I was working on several months ago...
Swim and work with a trainer

We'll see...

As for more interesting posts, it seems my comments have been decreasing...

Until Next Time...

The Ups And Downs In A Day

2011-11-12T20:00:00.000-08:00

Chez Moi has undergone a thorough cleaning for the last day or so and was on the verge of beauty again when the unmistakable drip of water, loud enough to disrupt sound sleep, was heard in the hall. Investigation soon pinpointed the closet containing both the central air handler and water tank.

Fortunately, I have a friend who is a skilled re-modeler as well as being a licensed property inspector. He came in response to my concern that water was leaking from the top of the closet and hitting the water tank. Having determined that the source was neither my air conditioning, which was off, nor the recently installed hot water heater, he ventured upstairs to ask a new neighbour whether he might have a look at her water tank.

She was reluctant to grant his request and said only that she would contact the landlord. I was preparing to stuff my tank's closet with towels when her parents appeared, telling us that they would look into the matter. They subsequently emerged saying they could not see any sign of leakage. My friend then explained the situation further and accompanied them into the upstairs flat, eventually locating two pin holes in a coil on the woman's hot water heater that were leaking and which could have damaged both flats if left undiscovered.

The young woman swiftly departed for the local DIY centre obtaining the needed part while my friend offered to do the repair without charge. My relief was palpable. Firstly because her very nice parents saw sense and secondly because she realised the potential for damage and that I, a woman who also lives alone, was not out to hurt anyone. The man I sent upstairs actually knew what he was talking about and what could have been a nasty situation all round was resolved to every one's benefit very speedily. I gave my friend $25 for coming out and to cover his fuel costs.

There are still decent people in the world, after all. I'm enjoying a last cup of tea before bed and feeling quite like I dodged a bullet...

Until Next Time...

What Does One Say...

2011-11-06T19:25:00.000-08:00

My handy friend and I were startled when upon returning to my flat late Friday evening, the door stood wide open. After ascertaining that there were no burglars about, I entered to find everything in order. As she and I had both heard the door slam when leaving, this was perplexing. She immediately suggested changing the locks, and offered to pick them up the next time she was out. I gratefully concurred and offered to reimburse the cost.

As I awaited my weekly grocery delivery today, the phone rang and my friend asked if I would be home so she could come and install the new deadbolt. I agreed and the deed was done, meowing feline and grocery arrival notwithstanding. My friend, however, encountered dry rot in the door frame and offered the optimistic view that perhaps it was throughout and I ought not be concerned. She then ventured the opinion that I perhaps consider moving to one of those facilities better suited to my needs, and this isn't the first mention she's made, either.

I found myself biting my tongue...

She is obviously ignorant of the fact that people with disabilities in this country have fought for the right to live independently and that most of us are unfortunately stuck in housing that we cannot afford to modify extensively due to cost. There is a shortage of wheelchair-modified housing. Additionally, this modification is expensive and there is no magic fairy or prince's trust here. This is America and grants for such endeavors are and always have been in short supply. Veterans disabled by the war effort can get money from the federal government via the Veteran's Administration up to $70, 000. Since our wormy politicians and equally "astute" congresspersons ask the military to risk lives in foreign conflicts, though I object to this use of my tax dollars, I also feel these men and women deserve this help when it is needed.

The rest of us have to slog along the best we can, but why, I wonder, do people think that life "in a facility" is actually preferable to one's independence?

Of one thing I am certain. The next time this supposedly well-intentioned friend opens her mouth with this remark, she will get an earful, as I have had quite enough. I am neither an invalid nor am I helpless to think and make decisions for myself. I can bathe, dress and feed myself, take care of animals, manage bills, organise appointments, outings and transport and go places alone as well as with others.

At this point, I am wondering how best to offer a tactful but firm response...

Until Next Time...

Where I Was Today...

2011-11-05T12:47:00.000-07:00

It is gorgeous today...

Bright, clear and breezy with temperatures hovering in the very low 70s during the day and getting down into the fifties after sunset. So, where was I amid all this beauty, you ask? The pictures should provide a clue or two...

I've replenished my cache of books and had a lovely slow browse of the stacks. Unfortunately, Internet access for our library system was disrupted at about noon yesterday and has been down since, an aggravation for all concerned, particularly the increasing numbers who rely upon the libraries computers for their Internet access.

Where are you today?

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

No Halloween Treats Here...

2011-10-31T15:44:00.000-07:00

There are no ghosts or goblins where I live and there haven't been for the decade or so that I've resided here. I've saved a small fortune on candy and all things caramelized. I take a small amount of pride in sparing teeth and fillings the opportunity to become emergencies, both dentally and financially. I get my teeth cleaned every three months, thus avoiding excessive plaque, tartar and cavities and I brush with a recommended electric model toothbrush twice daily. My dentist loves me...

In spite of these wonderful things, a look in my mouth reveals a childhood spent catering to a sweet tooth and often ignoring maternal admonitions to brush and floss until it was too late and She Who Was Not Obeyed dragged me to the dentist, swearing under her breath about the bill that inevitably followed. All of my molars contain fillings that are at least 45 years old, making me a slip of a thing when they were put in, a testament to my love of halloween candy, biscuits, cakes, tarts, pies and any other delectably sugary treats. This is not to say, however, that I acquired any regard for dentists. Quite the opposite, a situation sadly sealed when one of them drilled for a filling without any anesthetic, leaving me as a howling ten-year-old convinced that all dentists were sadists.

It wasn't until my mid thirties, after my front teeth were damaged in an accident and needed bonding that I began to consider the health and cosmetics of my mouth. Like many, I put off dentist visits and having no insurance to cover those bills made it easy to rationalize my behavior. It wasn't until a second accident occurred that a friend suggested I see his dentist for some damage control. That singular event changed my perspective forever.

This dentist has been a godsend. He listened rather than lectured and carefully explained his plan of care. Additionally, he never acted as though his patients deserved punishment for their dental faux pas. He and his staff spent time educating me about my mouth, teeth, and gums and re-iterated the value of preventing problems as well as suggesting things that I could use or do on my own to resolve dental issues particular to me. I went in today for a cleaning and came away with two crowns. Expensive, but a needed investment after all the childhood halloween candy and now worn fillings which resulted.

Unlike the dentists of my childhood, my dentist of almost fifteen years inspires trust and the confidence to maintain my oral health.

Now, as I sit here remembering the candy sprees of Halloween's past as well as the fillings that followed them, I thank my lucky stars and a certain friend...

Until Next Time...

A Long Way To Go Yet...

2011-10-27T13:12:00.000-07:00

According to my wonderful stylist, I need at least fourteen inches of flowing tresses for a donation to Locks of Love. That means hair past my elbows. As you can see from today's appointment, I've a long way to grow yet. I'm not sure I'll have the patience, but I'm giving it my best. The current length is the longest my hair has been since my undergraduate days. Locks of Love takes clean hair donations of ten inches or more and fabricates hair pieces for children and adults who've lost hair due to a variety of medical conditions. These do not fall off during sports or swimming and can be worn all the time. My
mother lost her hair during chemotherapy, a traumatic experience. Though it was growing in again when she passed away, she shared her disdain for losing it and the fact that it did not feel or look the same when it grew back. I hope this donation will eliminate the trauma of hair loss for someone...

Until Next Time...

Where I Was Today...

2011-10-26T16:33:00.000-07:00

Does this sculpture resemble DNA? According to the guide at the Morsani Center, that is what it is supposed to be...It was created by Art students at the University near my home. It is certainly eye-catching. According to the dermatologist, I have great skin, and I do not have to see him until next October unless something changes.

Where were you today?

If You Want A Job Done Correctly...

2011-10-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

It has been a long two weeks...

Between doctor visits, home exercises and trips to an increasingly cold swimming pool to try and maintain the pain-free status finally achieved in September, I've been catching up on all sorts of things, from paperwork to sleep to a re-configuration of my bedroom closet so that I can now reach my clothing from a seated position when necessary. You've no idea what a nuisance it is not to be able to reach blouses, trousers, suits, robes and other items when dressing for the day or hanging up newly-laundered things. A woman friend who enjoys doing small projects looked at the unused and ill-conceived space in my closet and offered to re-configure the shelving, drawers and area used for hanging clothing. She did something the previous installer had not and used a stud finder to correctly position shelves and brackets so that I no longer worry about anything falling down. It took about three hours once we had the necessary hardware and she even patched the holes. My longtime handy man could not have done better and in fact, turned his nose up at this job. This same woman friend also took me to the hospital for treatment of a cat bite and thrifting for some needed clothing. She is a jewel. The injury has healed and I can now type without wanting to wince.

Until Next Time...

Virtual Book Club Seeks New Members

2011-10-04T11:10:00.000-07:00

The long defunct Virtual Book Club seeks new members and a second life. For anyone who likes to read, this is an ideal way to meet new people and discover books one might not otherwise encounter. Anyone interested can leave a comment here. Thanks.

Reflections...What Would You Change?

2011-10-03T20:42:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me recently whether there was anything about my life that I would change. Short of a snappy comeback meant to intrigue, this is not a question I can answer easily or adequately in two minutes or less.

Regular readers to this blog know that the last couple of years have been life-altering. I have had to adapt to living the larger portion of my life from a chair. Number one on my list would be stronger enforcement of access and accessibility standards in public places. Number two would be better transportation options for persons with disabilities. We do have a paratransit service here, but some cities actually run the service 24/7, making it easier for those who can to work or take part in community life. I would point out that a job or regular participation in one's community are not luxuries. These are vital economic and psychological functions.

On a more personal note, I've seen more friends loose jobs to downsizing. The crash of housing markets which were once highly inflated have left people "upside down" as they pay more in mortgage balances than these properties are worth while others can barely keep the rent covered. Admittedly, this is not my maternal grandparents' Depression, but a malaise that appears farther reaching with consequences many are apparently at a loss to understand.

I am not optimistic that things will somehow shift, returning us to more affluent circumstances. I do, however, believe that all of us had better learn to live within current limits because it does not appear that those limitations, from clueless self serving politicians to corporate bosses and bean counters, are not going anywhere.

What this means in practical terms to me is a lot of "no," as in no television, no cable bill, no car or car insurance, no far-flung holidays or travel, no high priced entertainment, no clothing budget, no job, no big phone bills, no expensive flat renovations to make my small piece of home more wheelchair friendly.
I am fortunate that the little suburban box I inhabit is paid off, though the monthly maintenance fees continue to climb. While I am not elderly, I now must live on a fixed income and worry about the future of Social Security. This isn't the life I aspired to, nor is it one most highly educated professionals, a group which includes me and most of those with whom I associate, would find themselves living but for factors largely beyond our control.

That said, there are still many things for which I am grateful: Educating myself by reading every book on personal finance for women in my local library, finding the right people when a particular problem needs seeing to, hearing from my congress person, my cats, friends and friends of friends, cookbooks since I eat in more often than out, bloggers from around the globe, and strangers on the bus who pass along tidbits of information about community events or resources, the drivers who get me where I need to go and my favourite cabby as well as librarian friends and colleagues. These I would not change for all the money on the planet.

Until Next Time...

This Image Was In My Dreams Last Night...

2011-09-26T13:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had something so vivid in a dream that it seemed real? I'm not sure what triggered this image in my head during sleep, but it was there...

The postcard, from blogger tut tut tut, is entitled The Tightrope Wedding and was made and published in France. It is not only visually interesting, but rife with symbolism as well, I think.

Tut tut writes, "Postcards are hard to find these days, aren't they?"

She may be right, especially when it comes to images as intriguing as what is depicted here.

Happy Monday...

Elephants At Sunset...

2011-09-25T16:38:00.000-07:00

Karen, who blogs at Bordertown Notes, sent me this wonderful postcard of elephants at sunset. Karen lives in Botswana and sees all sorts of beautiful animals, birds and plant life. Though I meant to post this long ago, doing so now has enabled me to try out the scanning function on the new printer.

Elephants are a favourite of mine. My fascination started with Babar and has never abated. According to the back of the card, a healthy elephant can produce ten calves in her lifetime and can give birth every four years if conditions are good. Karen writes, "We see herds of elephants almost every day, crossing the roads en route either to or from the river. Watching them is a wonderful distraction from our chaotic world."

I could not agree more. Additionally, though I have become accustomed to the immediacy of e-mail, there is something special about receiving postcards and letters as well as sending them that the modern world seems on the verge of loosing...

Unti Next Time...

Lightning, Thunder and Rain...

2011-09-22T16:29:00.000-07:00

It was almost five and I was just out the door of a neighbourhood market when the sky exploded. It has been raining buckets here ever since, with the occasional roll of thunder thrown in for good measure. This is supposed to last through the weekend and will literally put a damper on some plans made earlier in the week with a friend, although a bit of water is hardly likely to stop us having an enjoyable evening.

This weather keeps me indoors more often than not, giving my wandering mind a workout. I've started to feel that my posts have gone a little stale, and although it is my intent to learn how to do photos on this iMac, the issue is that my cheap digital camera hasn't held up under regular use over the last three years and that having spent a packet on the iMac, a new camera simply isn't in the cards for the moment.

That said, this blog is likely to be more print-intensive for the foreseeable future, so those of you who like photos have my apologies. I will remedy the situation as I can. My last experience taking the camera around town resulted in someone attempting to snatch it. Though they were foiled in the effort, I was left shaken. No blog is worth that. Happily, I can still say I have never been robbed.

Until Next Time...

Goodbye Netflix?

2011-09-20T12:50:00.000-07:00

Have any of you ever watched a stock plummet while others were holding their own or going up in value and wondered what was going on within the falling company's ranks?

Netflix, a favourite company of mine for the last seven years, has, I believe, shot itself in the foot, not once, but twice. The stock, which had soared to three hundred dollars per share in July, fell upon announcement of a sixty percent rise in the cost of subscriptions. Those of us with the unlimited higher end plans did not see as high an increase as did folks paying $7.99 per month.

Unfortunately, a sixty percent hike in any cost these days is likely to be met with extreme rancor, something Netflix CEO Reed Hastings and his team should have been able to predict. While he has since apologised for the way the announcement was handled, the change in pricing structure remains as company stock continues to fall. Additionally, however, while apologising to customers, Hastings also stated that the streaming of films and home shipment of DVD's are soon to be divided into separate entities, each with its own website, billing and customer service teams. What was once convenient and seamless for customers who enjoyed both services, is soon to become yet another bill and service requiring time and attention.

When one examines the situation, it is apparent that Hastings sees the market for mailing DVD's eventually shrinking in favour of streaming content. At present, Netflix supply of DVD's outstrips its available content for streaming. A look in stores, libraries and websites such as Amazon would indicate that while streaming is the next frontier in online entertainment, DVD sales and availability are like to remain viable for some time.

People continue to tighten their belts in response to rising expenses, lacklustre employment and competition for their entertainment dollars, making me wonder at yet another case of poor timing on the part of a company whose services I and many others once enjoyed.

The markets were up today. Despite this, Netflix stock continues to take a thrashing. I sold the few shares I had at 143 this morning. As of this writing, the stock is at 130...

Until Next Time...

Computer Clean Up...Old Photos...E Unmasked

2011-09-15T07:43:00.000-07:00

I was almost finished deleting and condensing files when I came across these photos of my maternal grandfather. He was the adventurous type, taking a job three thousand miles outside his home country in a part of the world he had never before set eyes on. He and my grandmother raised three children and were there for almost all of their working lives. I came along during their mid-lives when they still had teens underfoot. The photo below was taken later, about 1961-62, when "cat" specs were all the rage.

New iMac...

2011-09-12T18:29:00.000-07:00

I was able to go to Best Buy today. Initially, I intended only to speak with a sales associate regarding Macs and HP's. When all was said and done, however, I found a new iMac for the same price as the re-furbished Mac I had seen online from the Apple store. For better or worse, the deal is done. I will go with a friend on Friday to pick it up. I am looking forward to the wonderful resolution on the 27-inch screen.

My thanks to those of you who have made recommendations, wished me luck in my search, and listened to my pros and cons. I am especially grateful to Barbara from http://looking2live.blogspot.com for putting me in touch with her husband. He is both an Apple devotee and extremely computer literate.

There may be a bit of re-learning involved in this migration for me; I am looking forward to that.

Until Next Time...

Frustrated Computer Shopper

2011-09-06T14:03:00.000-07:00

My optimal drive on this Dell is probably dead, so says the computer repair person. As far as he's concerned, I should just purchase another desktop and leave the matter done and dusted. No-one will actually come and examine this technological dinosaur, but everyone has an opinion.

I spoke at length with an Apple representative online whose best suggestion was a refurbished iMac for $1700 or so. That is a good price in Mac land. She diligently answered every question I had and then some, an experience which left my brain gyrating in fourteen directions at once...

Then, there was the abbreviated chat with the woman from a well known computer store in my immediate vicinity. I asked what size monitors were available for the HP desktop being scrutinized, and she typed "any."
The specificity boggles...

Dell trumps these by sending tech support jobs overseas. It was difficult making myself understood and when the "refurbished" speakers arrived to take the place of the cheap versions used with their machine, all the Dell representative could tell me when neither worked was and I am speaking English here, "throw them out." I went to a neighbourhood computer supply for replacements from another company that still function.

Of course, I am the type who loves to see, pick up and examine everything before purchase. This makes online shopping an exercise in aggravation. The reps will tempt with, "This deal is for today only, so grab it while you can!"

Something in this approach reminds me of used car lots and the salespeople that lurk there looking for custom...The only thing I want to grab after hearing those words is the nearest exit.

Until Next Time...

Southern Exposure...

2011-09-01T17:05:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, my neighbours and I headed south. Our trip ended in the town in which my mother was born and where large chunks of the families of her parents lived. I was able to see two great-aunts, both in their nineties, and a cousin, each of whom I enjoy. After an overnight in a quaint hotel, we awoke to gray skies and rain, so my plan to visit the beach a stone's throw from my room did not pan out.

The lovely dinner and conversation of the night before was worth the travel and the sheets of rain which hampered visibility on the way home. Never a fan of interstate driving, I was amazed at how deftly the younger of the two neighbours negotiated the roadway. I'm sure it was a bit hair-raising for him.

This "mini-holiday" is it for the summer and possibly the remainder of the year. Time or money constrain all things, unfortunately. Below is a favourite beach photo.

Until Next Time...

Computer Woes?

2011-08-25T21:03:00.000-07:00

It seems my pleasure in watching films via computer is no more. For the past two weeks, every film streamed from my Netflix queue slows and dies, freezing the desktop Dell to the point that it must be turned off and re-started several times. Discussions with customer service representatives at Netflix and my ISP have not revealed any problems from either. The ISP representative suggested switching from Internet Explorer to another browser, which on the face of it is worth a try.

There are no viruses, bots or malware involved, as I have run scans, so my next alternatives are to clear out unneeded files and software and see if things won't run more smoothly and begin computer shopping. Neither prospect appeals as one is time consuming and the other expensive. I also do not want to buy a television or the cable necessary for decent reception here.

Any suggestions???

A Movie Palace...And More...

2011-08-24T12:09:00.000-07:00

An inside view of Tampa Theatre as printed on one of the theatre's postcards

Built in the 1920's, the theatre, then known as a Movie Palace, opened its doors in 1926. Its exquisite interior, designed by John Elberson, a renowned theatre architect, was spared the wrecking ball in 1978. Through the efforts of concerned citizens, the theatre is now part of the National Historic Register and supported by the Tampa Theatre Foundation, donations and patron memberships. For further information, visit http://www.tampatheatre.org/.

This is a great venue for everything from art house and independent cinema to plays, concerts and summer Sunday movie classics. I saw the film Sarah's Key, starring the always excellent Kristin Scott Thomas. Though not shown here, a Wurlitzer organ opens every show, emerging from a pit through the stage floor.

Rain And Riots...

2011-08-10T14:57:00.000-07:00

It has gone from drearily overcast and rainy here to ominously black and threatening. Our temperature last I checked was 79 which would be balmy but for the 88 percent humidity accompanying it. My mail for the last two days has been water logged, a cruel irony when in the UK, parts of London and Manchester were burning.

While I have no answers as to why such astounding behaviour took hold and apparently succeeded before police intervened, the hand-wringing of the mainstream press continues, and likely will for days to come. I e-mailed some bloggers in London and finding them safe and sound, discovered a post by Zoe at her Mind and Language blog that is worth reading. See http//mindandlanguage.blogspot.com/2011/08/rising-up-against-riots-in-london.html.

This describes a local attempt to aid the police in stemming looting. Please read it for yourselves. In a world which sometimes appears to have gone mad, efforts such as this restore my faith in decency and commonsense across racial, ethnic, political and economic lines. I only wish I knew more about the individuals involved.

Until Next Time...

Done, But Not Yet Dusted...

2011-08-07T16:46:00.000-07:00

My birthday was fun. Unfortunately, the camera's batteries were flat, so no pictures this time. I had dinner with two librarian friends, who came back to the flat for surprise cake provided by my two favourite neighbors. They supplied two small cheesecakes festooned with candles and birthday greetings.

The resident felines stayed out of the way, though Jacob, my ever-charming tuxedo, positioned himself in the centre of the group, the better to keep an eye on his human. He is always the hit at any party. I've never seen a cat garner as many compliments as Jacob. He is curious, friendly, vocal and has markings to die for, so my die-hard cat loving friends agree.

The festivities continued last night as another neighbour, her adult twin sons, their families and I shared our birthdays and conversation over cake and ice cream. Tomorrow, I will share dinner with yet another group of friends. My thanks to those who called, sent cards or popped in. In true diva spirit, I'm celebrating all month long.

I've also accepted the challenge of growing my hair. Gone are the spikes of my early middle age. I now sport a bob that has grown to just past my chin, and this only with the guidance and patience of a stylist I've known for 17 years. The ultimate goal is to grow my hair past the elbows and provide a donation of ten inches in a clean braid to a not-for-profit organisation known as Locks of Love that provides prosthetic hair pieces to children who've lost their hair due to a medical condition such as cancer. These can be worn swimming, during sports or in the shower and the child will never fear losing his or her hair again.

Every year, two weeks prior to my birthday, I commemorate the death of my mother due to cancer, usually with a charitable donation of some kind. I did the same this year but also felt the desire to do something a bit more personal. Because I know that hair loss can be a traumatic reminder of the changes that accompany a cancer diagnosis, it seems fitting to try and ease that burden for a kid. Anyone interested can Google Locks of Love for further information.

Until Next Time...

Just When You Thought I'd Fallen From The Face Of The Earth...

2011-08-02T11:40:00.000-07:00

It seems that I share a birthday with England's Queen Mother, Louis Armstrong and President Obama. My accomplishments as a mere mortal pale in the presence of these luminaries, however, I can happily report being alive, educated, a decent friend, concerned citizen, reasonably well travelled, an avid reader, bilingual, an animal lover and a fan of football as it is played outside the US.

While you might think that being alive is no great feat, in my case, it was. My then not quite twenty-one-year-old mother was told shortly after my early arrival to prepare for my demise. Instead, she waited until I gained enough weight, took me home, divorced her disaster of a husband, and got us both back to the security of her parents' home across the world in Central America. They worked for the US government abroad, and in growing up there, I became what is called a Third Culture Kid. Those of you who are interested can Google the term.

Long before I heard those words, I knew how to hold my own in a conversation with anyone, had a broader view of the world and silently wished the notion of borders did not exist. I have always felt vaguely like I did not belong here, despite my birth certificate and citizenship. This has not improved with time.

Today, I worry for neighbours and friends who have lost work or face retirement in uncertain times. I think the leaders in both major parties are out of touch with average citizens' concerns and are not doing enough to make our lives liveable here. They also put too much effort in rhetoric and political agendas and not enough in reforms that make sense for everyone.

At almost 52, my life is not what I thought it would be nor is it what was planned. That said, it is still very worthwhile, and I must decide what the second half will contain, no easy feat.

Until Next Time...

Why Lie? All I Need Is Beer!

2011-07-23T18:50:00.000-07:00

The above was spotted on the sign of a pan handler in this part of the world...What strikes me about this are two things. Firstly, the numbers of pan handlers, both men and women, appear to be increasing, despite governmental prognostications to the contrary. Many are still without work, and others, like this sign holder, may be in the grip of personal problems so profound that they cannot manage to keep a job. I wonder when the continual fraying of social and community services will finally give way, filling our streets and corners with more people who have exhausted personal resources and plead for respite in whatever form they can find it?

I'm also thinking about the loss of life among addicts and alcoholics, most recently Amy Winehouse. Her death is no surprise given her public battle with addiction and her resistance to rehab, but it is tragic. She had a voice and the talent to make it heard across the world. That it has been silenced is yet another lesson about the frailty of life and the harrowing truth of addiction.

Ouch...Inadvertently Out Of Circulation

2011-07-21T17:14:00.000-07:00

I meant to post sooner, but things got a bit beyond me. Physiotherapists have since May, attempted to address a chronic back problem which developed following an auto accident several years ago. Unfortunately, these are not the therapists who originally dealt with and stabilized the problem, and there has been much hot air expended, and theories pontificated upon, despite my repeated attempts to get the deep massage needed to undo knotted soft tissue that will spasm painfully if not dealt with. I have already had a flare up during this process and have had more e-stim and ultrasound than at anytime during prior treatments. The latest, traction, appears to have had no effect.

I am tired, frustrated and growing distrustful of my current treating facility as they seem to be guessing at the causes rather than basing opinions on information that is readily available in medical and physiotherapy publications, which I read. The physio wants an MRI which the doctor feels is unnecessary.

Tomorrow, I'm calling the DPT who worked on me last year. I was pain-free after three weeks with her. I'll have to pay out-of-pocket, but it may well be the only choice I've got.

Twitter For Gentle Folk: Hand Painted Cards From Wales

2011-06-20T17:43:00.000-07:00

These wonderful hand painted cards were sent from Wales by Mark of http://viewsfromthebikeshed.blogspot.com, a wonderful place to visit. As you can see, they've been placed in what are called floating frames by yours truly to prevent them being damaged or smudged. They were done by Mark and are beautiful. Alas, my scanner isn't working at the moment or you all would have gotten a closer look. As I will not be home til tomorrow afternoon, I thought I would post this early. I'll have more postcards and another installment of my as yet untitled story soon.

Happy Tuesday!

Edited And Put Together...The First Bits...

2011-06-19T11:35:00.000-07:00

Glancing out the window of her bedroom, the woman noticed changes in the sky. The gradual progression from blue to shadowy gray signaled the beginning of her favourite time of day, dusk. Pulling away from her desk, she shut down her computer, temporarily freeing the room and herself from its almost omnipresent fan noise, something she had grown so accustomed to that it barely dented her consciousness anymore.

Adjusting her grip on the rims of her wheel chair, she rolled out of the room, pausing to turn so she could see beyond the flats' open screen door. A faint breeze, punctuated by frog song, crept across her face as she made her way to the building's courtyard, a haven of trees and pruned hedges that temporarily kept the din
from the adjacent road at bay.

In this spot, it was easy to forget the cares of the day. Closing her eyes for just a moment, she concentrated on slowly inhaling and exhaling, an exercise practised daily in her former life as a student of hatha yoga. She was soon still and almost asleep when her mobile began bleating...

After three attempts, she gave up trying to ignore its beckoning and flipped it open just as a voice was softly saying,"I'm calling regarding Nina..."

Jolted by the mention of her god daughters' name, the woman struggled against an onslaught of words... A lawyer advising her that Bernie and Carol, the little girl's parents, and friends since university, had gone down in their small plane...the Coast Guard had mounted a search...She needed to pick up eight-year-old Nina from school...

Snapping her mobile closed, she made her way back to her flat and opened the door just as the land line phone began to ring. Rolling into her bedroom, she heard Carol and Bernie's longtime housekeeper, Mrs. Guren, say she was on her way to the flat and would be there in less than ten minutes.

Changing her clothes in record time, the woman's mind jumped to images of Nina at her birthday party the month before...all smiles as her parents back garden brimmed with friends, all waiting for the three-tiered chocolate cake Bernie had created...

She began dialing, hoping the housekeeper would answer. Just as the voicemail clicked on, her mobile phone went dead.

A knock at the door and a hello from Mrs. Guren brought her back to the present and the looming question. How does one tell a small girl that her world has collapsed?

Well, I Can't Say It's Been Boring...

2011-06-16T17:39:00.000-07:00

The drying out after my water heater leaked took several long and noisy days. Nine small blue dryers, one large de-humidifying machine, and an air cleaner were installed throughout the flat and although I was promised all were not as loud as the average airport tarmac, I would not take bets on that.

Both the restoration and flooring companies were marvelous; I had no problems with the insurer, either. Apart from the noise and having furnishings on blocks, then choosing new flooring, everything went as smoothly as it could, given the circumstances. The first photo features a dryer in my closet while the second is perhaps the biggest machine of the lot. The last is the new floor. Normal blogging will resume promptly. Thanks for your patience.

And Then, It All Went Tits Up...

2011-05-06T19:33:00.000-07:00

I had such great plans...
I had finished the outline for the next bit of the story you've been reading here, and was to put it all together...

Thursday dawned and the felines awakened me earlier than their normal 5 AM. They were acting odd, something I attributed to rain during the night. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I also assumed the water on my doorstep was the result of rain. Wrong again.

Making my way into this flats' closet-like kitchen, the floor seemed a bit spongy. A quick look in the hall cupboard containing both the air handler for the air conditioning and the hot water heater revealed a leak from the water heater. Water filled its bottom pan, and though there was not yet water on the floors' surface, that would not be the case for too much longer...

I called a neighbour to help assemble the small Shop Vac I keep stored for emergencies and he drained the pan repeatedly while I dialed madly.

Plumbers were summoned and arrived in less than 45 minutes. The cats, their box and breakfast, were relocated to the screened porch. The heater, which is less than six years old, was removed promptly and another installed. Surveying the floors, the plumbers suggested calling in a cleaning and restoration service.

Shortly thereafter another gentleman appeared to assess the damage. His verdict? The flooring throughout the flat was bubbling, therefore had to be taken up, and the sub floor dried to prevent mould or fungal growth.

At this point, my home insurer was contacted and the cleaning began. The workmen involved discovered and photographed the paper underlayer that was supposed to be a plastic barrier against water for my laminate flooring. More to come about that, I am sure.

Six drying machines, a large de-humidifyer and an air purifier are rather noisily humming along in my flat.
Stuff is everywhere...It is a mess. The cats are frightened. I await word from an adjuster. It is very hard to sleep or carry on as normal...

I am not sure when I'll get back to blogging. I wish you all a good weekend.

Until Next Time...

The Next Installment...

2011-04-25T21:09:00.000-07:00

It wasn't until her mobile began bleating that she opened her eyes. The voice in her left ear, softly saying,"I'm calling regarding Nina Pankow"...

Jolted by the mention of her goddaughter, she struggled to make sense of the caller's messege...A lawyer advising that Carol and Bernie, friends since university days, had disappeared...the Coast Guard was looking for signs of their small plane...She needed to pick up eight-year-old Nina from school...

Her mind filled with images of the party she and Carol had planned for Nina's birthday the month before, their back garden full of kids waiting to eat a three-tiered chocolate castle Bernie had constructed.

She began dialing, hoping the housekeeper would answer. Just as the voicemail clicked on, the phone went dead...

Chag sameach

2011-04-17T15:38:00.000-07:00

Meaning "Joyous Festival" or "Happy Holiday," this Hebrew greeting is appropriate this week as Passover begins and with it, the beginning of the harvest season. Commemorating the Exodus from Egypt, Passover is also a time for reflection and celebration. With this in mind, I'll be away from the computer and wish all of you a happy celebration whether it is Easter or Passover.

If Anyone Wants To Exchange Postcards...

2011-04-10T11:50:00.000-07:00

Kindly let me know by sending me an e-mail with your address. Your postcard will be posted as part of Twitter For Gentlefolk unless you indicate otherwise.

In other news, I'm working on additional posts for the story left here two weeks ago. It's a bit of a slog because I'm only doing in short bursts at the moment. For those eager to read more, I appreciate your comments and patience.

Happy Sunday!

Twitter For Gentle Folk: Postcard From Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, UK

2011-04-05T07:43:00.000-07:00

Fellow blogger Alan Burnett at http://newsfromnowhere1948.blogspot.com, has started a new posting tradition. Entitled Twitter for gentlefolk, it celebrates the resurgence of the postcard and invites all interested bloggers to exchange postcards with Alan. These will be included in subsequent blog postings. Any other bloggers interested may also exchange postcards and post them as part of Twitter for gentlefolk.

The postcard Alan sent to me is a reproduction of one commemorating radio's Golden Age and D-day, 1944. Apparently, Alan and I are fans of radio, and I was delighted to receive his postcard. Please visit Alan's blog to see the postcard sent to him and let him know if you would like to participate in Twitter for gentle folk.

Until Next Time...

Untitled And Unfinished...

2011-03-24T17:37:00.000-07:00

Dreamgirl: Moments In An Afternoon

2011-03-17T15:31:00.000-07:00

The whoosh of rubber against the hospital floor was uncharacteristically the only sound in the corridor as the woman propelled forward, her gloved hands resting lightly over battered rims, slowing her descent down the deserted hallway. Hitting the carpeted surface of the lobby entrance provided an automatic break. She stopped just long to roll neck and shoulders, adjusting her grip for the more powerful pushes needed to get to the waiting bank of lifts.

Rumbling, and a series of clicks announced a lifts' arrival, its opening releasing a woman with an infant on her hip, another with a gangly teen following behind and a man of indeterminate age, clutching two large envelopes in one hand and the top of a cane in the other. No-one said anything as the woman rolled into the newly-emptied gaping maw beyond the lift doors, turning herself around to face the row of buttons within and pressing the one which would get her quickly to the floor below.

Shooting through the hospital's automatic doors, the woman felt a slight rush of air as the mid afternoon heat hit her face. Brilliant blue sky and a slight breeze greeted her exit, just before her eyes fell upon the image of a bird. Woven wool, black strands accented its wings and beak, causing the woman to recall similar images from her Central American childhood. Looking up, she caught the profile of a young girl. Lithe and long limbed, dark hair held in a pony tail, the girl turned, and smiling, said, "My grandmother got this for me on one of her trips."

A slight conversation ensued before the girl, perhaps twelve or thirteen, introduced herself and proper greetings were exchanged.

Regarding this girl silently for a moment, the woman flashed back to a memory of herself as a preteen. All legs and arms and awkward reserve, she too had been tentatively curious about many of the adults she encountered. It did not startle her when this girl ventured beyond polite bounds and asked why she used a wheelchair. Carefully choosing her words and abbreviating the answer, the woman stopped, surprised by an enthusiastic high five against her hand. This was followed by a hasty, "goodbye, Miss," as the girl spotted her mother, and disappeared inside their car.

Life Is About Choices...Or So I've Heard...

2011-03-16T17:39:00.000-07:00

Scanning the thin list of jobs over a cup of tea, I realise that I am either out of the running because I can't climb ladders or lift 50 pounds, I'm without the required experience, I have too much experience and a degree which means to an employer that I will cost them more in salary and benefits, the town in which a single, but otherwise perfect position exists is small, lacks a hospital and has no discernible public transport beyond a snow plow...

Here are my choices...
~Laugh...Tomorrow is another day!
~Cry...Tomorrow is another day...
~Talk to an immigration attorney and really learn why other countries don't want people who literally roll through life as I must these days...
~Resume my former career despite the fact that most of my clients have either gone bankrupt, moved on or died...(I was not a call girl, a thief or a disaffected mortuary attendant)...
~Marry someone from another country...The odds of this are nil since I do not engage in Internet dating, most of my friends are happily divorced, gay or determined to remain single.
~Find a job in Canada or Israel, learn both French and Hebrew, adjust to snow or the sounds of gunfire or rockets in the distance, and hope for the best...
~Reprise my former status as a pundit, a situation likely to lead to raucous comments, fits of pique or uncontrolled laughter...

Until Next Time...

Ever Have One Of Those Days When...

2011-02-26T19:36:00.000-08:00

Getting out of bed proved absolutely useless...

Looking at the projected rise in the health insurance premium that is already a strain to afford renders you livid...

You realise that running away and joining the circus is a bit redundant since your life is already a circus...through no fault of your own...

A Bit Under The Weather...

2011-02-23T14:29:00.000-08:00

Just a quick posting to let you know I'm a bit under the weather, so if I'm not around til the weekend or later, you'll understand...I do have more posts to go up but don't feel up to dealing with Blogger just now...

Up, Down And All Around...

2011-02-21T15:51:00.000-08:00

Upon reflection, I realise that I've spent an inordinate amount of time in the last few weeks waiting. Whether it is catching the bus, sitting in my chair on an electronic bus ramp that refuses to come down within a stone's throw of my door, killing time at hospital after my appointments, or waiting out the hour's pick up window for our local para transit service, waiting has sometimes taken center stage in my days.

You might easily assume that waiting is a bore, but I've rediscovered the luxury of reading the daily newspaper, slipping into a new detective series or journaling about things that might otherwise escape my attention. Having spent the better part of two years blogging, the old habit of putting pen to paper has resurrected itself more easily than originally anticipated, as has the much-lamented lost art of conversation.

I've found myself chatting up a diverse group of drivers, including two who were aghast to learn that I am older than I look apparently, and a self-described New Yorican who appreciated having another Spanish speaker aboard. A chance meeting with a retired phlebotomist led to the discovery that my latest blood draw, which left two large and ugly bruises, was a botched job.

My archival work continues, albeit, more slowly than I would prefer due to sheer volume, but the librarian and archivist are thus far pleased and I enjoy what I am learning. Apart from this, I'm still looking for more opportunities to enjoy the outdoors before the sweltering heat of summer descends. The pool here is under repair, so my regular swimming has stopped for the time being.

The felines haven't acquired any new skills or irksome habits; they appear, however, to have perfected the art of sleeping. If only my rest could be so peaceful.

Until Next Time...

Nowhere Boy...

2011-01-31T18:08:00.000-08:00

Have any of you seen this film? It is finally out on DVD in the United States and worth watching for anyone interested in John Lennon's youth and the birth of the Beatles. Directed by Sam Taylor-Wood, this biopic features Aaron Johnson as the teen Lennon, Thomas Brodie Sangster as the young Paul McCartney, Kristin Scott Thomas as Lennon's Aunt Mimi and Anne-Marie Duff as his mother, Julia.

The film focuses on the years 1955-1960 in John's life, the rivalry for his affections between Mimi who raised him, and Julia, the mother he was just beginning to know when she died tragically, his introduction to music and the formation of The Quarrymen, Lennon's first band and the predessessor to The Beatles.

Rarely have I seen a biopic so perfectly cast, and as Taylor-Woods' directorial debut, her comfort with the visual is obvious. No spoilers, if you want to know more, see the film.

I related to quite a bit in this film, which surprised me since it reflected more my mother's generation than my own. My first memory of John Lennon was at age 4 or so, listening to an album called Meet The Beatles on my mother's newly acquired portable Hi-Fi in our upstairs flat and singing to the refrain, "I Want To Hold Your Hand." As a single parent and working woman on a budget, the record was a treat, and something she really liked. Generally, we listened to her 50's-era radio in the kitchen or hummed along to the car radio on outings.

Prior to moving to our first flat together, I had lived with my maternal grandparents while my mother, a young divorcee, resumed her university studies to obtain a teaching degree. She was in her early twenties then and loved the music of the era, especially the groups such as the Beatles which were part of the so-called British invasion.

Watching parts of Nowhere Boy also reminded me of some of the storms of my childhood between my mother and grandmother often preceded by the phrase, "She wouldn't do that if she were living in my house." This was generally an attempt by my Nana to correct some perceived deficiency of parenting in my mother, while asserting her own superiority. I was caught in the middle, and also subjected to frequent bouts of grandmotherly correction---everything from remembering to wear much-hated eyeglasses, my posture to my behavior, friends and schoolwork---was fair game. While she was stern, she and my grandfather did a lot for me, and I always knew my grandmother could be counted on in any situation. If the portrayal of Mimi Smith in this film is true to form, then she and my grandmother were cut from the same cloth.

Until Next Time...

Night Rains And Tornado Watches...

2011-01-25T16:17:00.000-08:00

Our meteorologists certainly nailed the current forecast: rain and tornado watches followed by another day of cold weather...

The sky went from slightly gray to black, with no sun set. I attempted some night photos but the pictures were terrible. I'll keep trying...

Mr. Obama will deliver his State of the Union Address in a few hours. I don't expect anything that hasn't already been said but perhaps that is being a bit optimistic...(writer is now busily freeing tongue from cheek...)

Before venturing out to hospital this afternoon, I heard part of an interview with Princeton economist Paul Krugman discussing the euro and the current situation in the EU...I wish I'd had a pad and paper to scribble some notes...

His blog is interesting as are his books but I would love to hear what any EU bloggers have to say about unemployment, economics, this recession, etc.

What say you?

Home On A Rainy Day...

2011-01-17T19:46:00.000-08:00

Monday was a holiday here. As the weather was wet from about midnight until 7 PM or so, it was a great time to catch up with laundry, bills and an assortment of other odds and ends. Never to be left out, the felines hammed it up, and Jacob made a show of nesting in the dryer, despite protestations and laundry.

Angel, always one for attention, closed her beautiful blues as this was snapped...She was a wee bit grumpy...And, yes, the laundry did dry...in time.
The plaque behind her head says "Because I'm the cat, that's why."

Thank You, Reverend King

2011-01-17T11:27:00.000-08:00

I am reprising a post originally made in January, 2009. As today, January 17, marks the birthday and life's work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, it is a holiday in the U.S.

The above photo is taken from http://www.civilrightspictures.com/ on January 17, 2011, by the owner of this blog. This photo is used for illustrative purposes only. It will not be sold or used for profit in any way. The website from which this photo was taken allows this photo to be used free of charge for educational purposes on personal and educational websites and in personal e-mails.

The writing on this blog is the work of its owner and should not be used without permission.

While I hate using Web photos and would prefer to use my own, I was a small child when Reverend King was assassinated. I remember nightly images of this man on both the Spanish and English television channels available where we lived. While much of the English news was censored, the Spanish newscasts often featured information on his activities.

The first recollection I have of the word "pacifist" is in connection with Martin Luther King, Jr, and protests for both Civil Rights and an end to the war in Vietnam. Residing in a community dominated by both military and government employees, the questions asked of my parents and teachers were often met with cautious responses.

"What is a pacifist?," was one of the first. The initial response, "Why are you asking?" then led to a series of even more provocative inquiries on my part that culminated in the simplistic reply, "A pacifist is someone who does not believe in violence."

When I pointed out that killing people only resulted in more people getting killed and asked why both sides could not just stop and talk with each other, my exasperated mother conceded the point that talking was indeed a better solution than shooting or dropping bombs.

Her frustration reached new heights when I observed that it was wrong to put Mr. King in jail just for standing up for people who could not stand up for themselves, then wondering aloud why everyone did not have the same rights, despite differences in their houses, the color of their skin or where they were from. She knew I was right, but offered no satisfactory answers as to why the rest of the world did not see things my way.

I knew by age nine that discrimination, cruelty and ignorance existed, for I had experienced them in my school and neighborhood, and so had my mother. I was growing up female in a world full of sexism, disabled in a school in which well-meaning teachers and neighbors, and even some doctors, were often ignorant.

Despite having the things many of my neighbors and their children had, I was also growing up in a Third World Nation, in which many neighborhoods overflowed with poverty. I also grew up around people from throughout the Caribbean, Central and South America as well as the United States and Mexico, and grew to love many of the wonderful foods, customs and cultural experiences that sprang from this exposure.

That this environment, coupled with personal experiences, also gave me a first-hand look at the differences in the way people are perceived and treated is no surprise. Indeed, the desire for fairness, equity and dignity for everyone , which I also later learned from Judaism, and first glimpsed through the eyes of a Baptist civil rights activist and minister on an old black and white television screen, remain at my core as a woman today.

As a citizen, I often find myself at odds with the activities and views of elected officials and wonder what we are coming to as a nation and as a member of a much larger and diverse planet. I am sure that over forty years ago, Reverend King hoped fervently that through his and the actions of others, rampant prejudice would end, and that rights and human dignity would be respected.

Many people, including Reverend King, were forced to give their lives in pursuit of a better world for all. While much has changed, as evidenced by the historical election of Barack Obama, we dare not forget the past nor can we assume that the battle against racism, sexism, homophobia, ageism and other forms of prejudice is over. There is still much we can do personally and politically. That said, tomorrow's commemoration of the birthday, achievements and sacrifices made by Martin Luther King, Jr provides individuals and communities the opportunity to reflect upon where they are, what they as part of society have accomplished, and what they want to see in the future.

Thank You, Reverend King.

Until Next Time...

Some Things To Think About...

2011-01-11T20:05:00.000-08:00

I must apologise for my recent absence here. I've been busy in the "real" world with various things, including a new archival project, some professional reading, home clearing and compiling a list of goals for 2011.

As you'll see, the goals are not lofty; practicality and cost-cutting figure prominently.

Go paperless---I am over run with paper and over dealing with piles of it. Now I just hope my computer holds out!

Cut transport costs---I'll shortly begin using my county's para transit service. The system is rule-heavy and does have some limitations, but if I can use it for my more frequent trips, I stand to save some money which I can divert for other purposes.

Download and use Skype---Now all I need are some decent headphones!

Up my intake of fruit and veg and cook and freeze meals so that I always have healthy food and don't rely on take-aways or frozen dinners. This is forcing me to re-acquaint myself with recipes and cook books gone a bit dusty from disuse. Thanks to wonderful bloggers for sharing their recipes!

Increase the intensity of my fitness regime---I've surpassed 150 crunches almost daily, increased the weight and reps on the machines and continued the necessary stretches which increase flexibility and keep my low back pain free. In the spring and summer, I'll resume swims, aiming for three per week as rain allows.

On the professional front, I'll stay busy at the library and begin reading the required bibliography for the Archivist's Certification Examination. I'm not sure this is the most practical of choices for someone in my situation, but there do appear to be more jobs in this arena than there are for librarians at present. Though librarianship itself is a highly adaptive and varied field, budget cuts and shortfalls have curtailed opportunities for many.

I've translated some conference materials and the language bug has bitten again. I'll let you know where that leads.

In the meantime, I've got to find out if the charger purchased with the re-chargeable batteries for my camera actually works. No little amber lights appear when it is plugged in, and I've tried the batteries every which way...

Thanks to those of you who've graced me with reading suggestions. They were all great and have been saved. I'm attempting three at present and have another six from the public library I visited today. I do plan to blog again and fix the blog roll this weekend.

Until Then...

First Dinner 2011 At Chez Moi...

2011-01-01T18:05:00.000-08:00

It was quiet here today; all the revelers who were discharging bottle rockets and fireworks until the sun rose eventually made their way home to bed. Even the resident felines, who never ignore their meal schedule, failed to stir for breakfast. I'm almost certain they would have slept straight through dinner but for the clatter and aromas coming from la cuisine.

It was a matter of what was in the cupboards and what was fresh in the refrigerator before it dawned on me that my mother always swore that in the south people usually eat black-eyed peas for luck at the new year, a tradition we never observed during my childhood near the equator.

You can see the results above; Fresh, steamed greens with a hint of garlic, a small, plump tomato garnished with cracked peppercorns and some rice with seasoned black-eyed peas.

In a nod to elegance, this repast sits atop a Limoges luncheon plate. I use them because they not only appeal to the eye, but to the waistline, as luncheon plates are smaller than the typical dinner plates used here.

Wishing you all a large dose of luck in 2011!

Happy 2011!

2010-12-31T12:08:00.000-08:00

It is a beautiful, balmy New Year's Eve here. The final day of 2010. Tomorrow, we'll begin a new decade.

While I'm not one to put stock in resolutions, I do have a list of things I've been doing or will do this year, barring the catastrophic. One is to update the design and links on this blog.

Another is to ask for two favourite book recommendations from each reader who feels like sharing.

I hope the new year brings you happiness, health and opportunities. Thanks for reading and leaving your comments!

Happy Christmas and New Year, Everyone!

2010-12-24T14:13:00.000-08:00

I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and hope for a healthy and happy new year in 2011! Though not a holiday I celebrate, Christmas holds many meanings and memories for most of you, and I hope this one is lovely as well.

I will see you all in 2011!

Many joys of the season, and until then, stay warm and well!

Okay...I Give Up!

2010-12-15T15:04:00.000-08:00

I'm sure all of you have had days when nothing seems to go right, despite best efforts. Yesterday was like that for me. Twice weekly I visit a hospital for a supervised programme of fitness. Believe me when I say that this is not a bow to vanity but a medical necessity, according to both GP and physiotherapist. The machines keep me strong and the stretches and other exercises keep a chronic back problem from becoming painful and debilitating. I pay a monthly fee for this.

In order to get there, I use our local taxi service, which under the ADA, is supposed to provide a small percentage of wheelchair cabs, thus there are six in a fleet of about 400. Our county being amongst the most populated in the country, you can quickly deduce that the demand for for such service far exceeds the available number of vehicles. I organise my weekly trips for all things medical and otherwise a good four to five days in advance and barring the ubiquitous traffic jams, road accidents or breakdowns, things generally go according to plan. I pay for the taxi service.

Yesterday, however, my one o'clock pick up time came and went with nary a peep from a flustered cabbie. By 1:30, I was on the phone with the cab company wheelchair supervisor querying this conspicuous absence. Keys tapped on her keyboard and then she asked if I was calling regarding my return home. When I said that I had never been picked up in the first place, she asked me to hold, please. After reaching all of the drivers, she apologised, telling me that all were in east county, a good forty minutes from me, and she had no-one to dispatch in my direction, but that she would get to the bottom of the mess...

This meant calling the appropriate party at the hospital to re-schedule my appointment. I left two lengthy voice mails. I did not know the hospital phone system was out of order. At four, my phone rang. A rather harried male voice asked if I were ready to depart the hospital for home. When I replied that his colleague had failed to show for the trip to hospital, he quite justifiably said that his supervisor from the taxi company should have advised him about this...

He had been waiting for me to emerge from the cavernous building for almost an hour...

I should add that all drivers can be reached by car radio and mobile phone. Since I was not advised which of them was to take me and that two different drivers would be involved, I could not have taken it upon myself to call the one scheduled for the return home and explain the situation.

When I rang his supervisor and asked what had transpired, she reported that the driver who was to take me in had picked up an extra fare to east county and was not available when he should have been to pick up my scheduled fare. Because of the distance involved, the driver stood to make more transporting someone to east county. He gambled that he would eventually get to me, and lost. I also lost a medical appointment and the chance to re-schedule for what amounted to greed and stupidity.

Such occurrences only serve to remind that I am a mere commodity and that no-one functions out of pride of a job well done, if they ever really did so at all. Passing the buck with impunity has become the rule of the day and no-one is really held accountable to anyone else.

The taxi company owes me more than an apology...Any takers for the bet when I'll see it??

Until Next Time...

So, What's New With You, Then...

2010-12-11T17:38:00.000-08:00

So asked an acquaintance, the friend of a friend...

I paused before answering, a habit developed long ago at the hand of a favourite teacher who was fond of telling students, "It is far better to keep your mouth closed and be thought an idiot than to speak and prove your detractors correct."

Millions of thoughts flashed through my mind, the foremost being a question about whether this individual was nosey or had some genuine concern for my well-being...

A split second later, I heard myself admit that nothing much was new, that I was getting on with things and was fine, really.

Her arched eyebrow said she was unconvinced, and as we sat for a minute longer, I told her of yet another older friend who lost a job and is now looking for work, at seventy,just when she ought to be able to enjoy some peace in her so-called "golden years."

Like many, she has a mortgage and other obligations, and cannot afford to simply bask in the glow of former careers until she leaves the planet. I have another friend whose sister trained in a new field upon being downsized, and two years later, still cannot find work. She has been rejected from retail establishments seeking holiday help on grounds of over qualification. She is about forty and nowhere near retirement.

I wonder about what our workforce will look like as more and more of us take any job just to squeak by...

My own experience shows that standards of living and expectations have shrunk for the first time in a generation. My parents never had to worry. Their jobs were secure. They worked and saved, sending me to university in the hope that I too might reap the benefits of security, an idea that grows more illusory by the day.

I rarely travel anymore, eat in restaurants, go to the cinema, visit the library or the park, or see plays, and I think twice before buying anything and only get new items on discount. I've reduced my grocery bills, and haven't run the heat during this cold snap, preferring to wear my coat instead. I've no television and no cable and have developed a coupon habit. I'm also considering getting rid of my long distance phone service and using Skype.

If any of you have experience with Skype, kindly let me know.

All of this is by way of saying I'm living differently, and will continue to examine both priorities and expectations as I think we're all in this so-called recession for much longer than anticipated.

What do you think?

Until Next Time...

World AIDS Day And More...

2010-12-01T02:14:00.000-08:00

The World Health Organisation established World AIDS Day in 1988 to focus on providing information and preventing the spread of HIV across the globe. World AIDS Day is commemorated annually on every continent and in communities worldwide. This year's theme is human rights and universal access, and that, as with themes in past years, kicks off year-long activities in the fight against AIDS.

For more information about world events,visit http://www.worldaidscampaign.org/en/World-AIDS-Day.

Today is also the 55Th anniversary of Rosa Parks refusal to move to the back of the bus on which she travelled. This marked a turning point in civil rights for African Americans in the United States.

Sundown this evening also signals the beginning of eight days of Hanukkah, during which Jews the world over commemorate their ancient winning of an uprising against the Greeks for religious freedom and the restoration and lighting of the Temple. Candles are lit each night as we say special prayers and enjoy time with family and friends. I will be joining friends this weekend for a celebratory dinner.

I am writing this at 4:45 AM after being awakened by the cute Siamese you met in my previous post...Would you say she has trained me well?

Until Next Time...

She's No Angel...This Week...

2010-11-22T15:31:00.000-08:00

Angel, my seal point Siamese...

It seems the elderly diva of cats has decided to play a new game with her favourite human, "Let's wake her up every hour and see what she'll do."

Of course, in her world, playing involves diving at my feet beneath the covers, emerging for air, and delivering a stern, very vocal lecture regarding everything and everyone about which there is the slightest disapproval...

This includes me at the moment. At almost fifteen, after seeing yours truly journal often, she has targeted any paper or collection of pages for destruction, including notebooks, pads of paper, post-it notes, letters or cards. All now bear tooth marks, rips or the shredding only well-aimed back claws can render.

Just as I am preparing to write out a list of priorities needed in a new locale if I am to move, and doing the necessary research to determine whether they exist there, comparing housing and related costs, looking at jobs and salaries and the number of hours I can work and still get needed PT, she stalks the desk with the fearless demeanor of a tigress, sending my pages flying to the floor.

Scolding has no effect except to increase my irritation with her as she brazenly ignores warnings, dodges the small squirts of water to her face, and then stares at me as if to say, "Do as you will, I am still winning..."

Thankfully, these efforts at warfare do not yet include potty presents in strange places such as the hallway, my freshly made bed, or the sofa. We once had a tiff over a new litter box that wasn't quite the right size and thick-headed human here only came around to this cats' way of thinking after receiving several "gifts," followed by a discussion with her rather amused veterinarian.

I am left once again to guess her uniquely Siamese motives. Is she annoyed or is this some new game she has invented? Perhaps I am the strange one in her eyes...

Until Next Time...

Under the Sea...

2010-11-18T19:51:00.000-08:00

Photo of Seahorse Art taken in 2008.
Brain Coral, Courtesy Wikimedia Commons, 2010.

Having grown up on a land mass between the Atlantic and Pacific,near the equator, I have always loved and respected the ocean. Apart from the walks and love of waves that dominated childhood visits to several beaches, I adored the shades and hues of blues, greens and almost inky blacks found in varying depths.

While I was never a stellar snorkeler, I did swim, and on more than one occasion, crossed paths with schools of fish, sting rays and the beginning of a coral reef. Shell collecting from the shore was a hobby for my parents who created a fascinating framed mirror that was so heavy with layers of shells that it had to be mounted to the wall with especially heavy screws.

Looking at the various shells, all of differing shapes, sizes, contours and colours, I would try to imagine the creatures that had called them home...

Did the crab in the shiny pink and white shell get along with limpets and barnacles?
How was that giant brain coral retrieved? Did the lobster whose claw I was eying meet a catastrophic end? What happened to the sea urchin missing part of its lovely shell? Where did Dad find that star fish?

My favourite was the rather mythical sea horse I first saw in an aquarium. So taken was I with this delicate specimen of sea life that I spent an entire Saturday consulting the Encyclopedia Britannica in the library...

Did you know that the male seahorse is the one who gets pregnant and gives birth? For more fun facts, visit this link from a Nova episode that aired in 1997 at http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/seahorse/ the link is still active.

You may also enjoy a rather unique piece of seahorse art in the photo above. Another favourite, Brain coral, is courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Released for use in the public domain, each is intended for illustrative puposes only.

I was the perfect kid to have read and appreciated the funny sea characters once penned by Zoe at http://mindandlanguage.blogspot.com. If you've not seen her blog, take a look. It's enjoyable reading. It was Zoe's writing about these stories that sparked the idea for this post.

Until Next Time...

Funerals and Ties...

2010-11-14T15:37:00.000-08:00

In my previous post, I gave a bit of an introduction to my mother. As her only living child, I had no biological siblings growing up. My stepfather, however, had a son and daughter, both significantly older than I.

His daughter, who at twenty, met my mother and I for the first time, must have taken me to heart from the first. She kept in touch via letters and cards, and always sent me gifts at holidays and remembered my birthday each year, despite eventually being a busy mother of three.

When we met, I was a skinny six-year-old who loved being outside; My favourite place was the beach, and it was on one weekend outing that my soon-to-be step dad introduced a pretty blond on a visit from her university, to my mother and I.

We spent time walking the beach and swimming in the waves. The last thing I remember about that day was riding home in his convertible, top down, feeling the sun on my face. I had no idea then that I would one day be the one to break the news of her father's death to her; I also did not foresee announcing to him that she had called while he was out, and that he had a new granddaughter.

He also had a son, whom we saw only sporadically since we were three thousand miles beyond the U.S. in another part of the world. I first met him when he was in high school and came to visit his father during the summer. I was about ten then and watched a series of events unfold with what I now understand to be dismay.

Being old-school Army, my step dad took one look at his son, and carted him off to the nearest barber, protests notwithstanding. This did nothing to endear father to son, and the two months spent away from friends and his mother and adored stepfather, in an office working a summer job, only heightened festering dislike.

It never occurred to my stepfather that constant sarcasm and criticism would wear away whatever fragile bonds existed between he and his children, or that as adults they might repudiate his role in their lives entirely. He felt justified in demanding deference and appropriate behavior, as he had from troops, not realising that such strategies do not work in the home.

While my mother was aware of this and very nearly wore herself out trying to reason with her husband, the behaviour continued. In my teens, I too became the target of vicious humour, sometimes from both parents, and learned to lie low, keep quiet and avoid either one unless absolutely necessary. I became the resident bookworm. With no-one to help, I learnt the art of the poker face, all the while roiling inwardly.

My stepfather was at his best when travelling, something we did a lot of as a threesome. I saw Paris, Brussels, London and other cities in Europe, learnt about beetles indigenous to the tropical rain forest, tasted berries grown in volcanic soil and spent time helping kids in a Colombian hospital, none of which would have been possible without my stepfather.

When he turned his attention to impending retirement, my stepfather, who would have been happy to find a place abroad, faced stiff lipped expletives from his wife, and back to the States we came, I first to university and they to a condominium on the water.

Though we saw his adult children and grandchildren portions of the summers during my teens, relations remained strained. With his death in 1982 at 58, we were freed from walking on eggshells, but it would be many years until I grasped the depth of resentment and hurt that he left as a legacy in his children.

While I have long since forgiven each of my parents their mistakes, and still work daily on forgiving myself and others, apparently my stepfathers' children avoided any mention of him, no longer referring to him as dad, but only by name, and only when necessary.

This was evident in the recent obituary, written about his son, that omitted any mention of his father or any step sibling. While another might take offence, I see it as a sign of longstanding hurt, something that I cannot mend.

As I prepare for the impending burial of a fifty-six-year-old man who was sometimes as stubborn as his father but never as critical or mean, I marvel at ties and their duration and evolution over time and distance.

He leaves behind nieces, nephews, many friends and professional associates, a fiancee, sister, and brother-in-law, a great-niece and great-nephews a stepfather and lastly, a step sibling, all of whom will miss a nice guy.

I will stand with his sister, the pretty blond I met over forty years ago as a youngster, and say the Mourner's Kaddish with others as we say goodbye.

A Birthday: November 10, 1938

2010-11-09T16:15:00.000-08:00

If she were still amongst the living, my mother would be seventy-two today. The photo here was taken in the mid-sixties, in her twenties. I would have been about seven or so.

A complicated woman, she was the first person I ever knew who could stop traffic, holding herself bolt upright amid cheers, catcalls and other exclamations. She could alternately curse like a sailor or hold her own with the most cultured, and she placed high value on manners.

Her eyes were a blue green that darkened with her mood, and when her eyebrow was raised without a smile beneath it, I learned to beware as a storm of anger could quickly ensue.

She endured much, including an early divorce, the death of a child and being a single, working parent before that became commonplace. My stepfather, whom she married at thirty, was the love of her life.

Widowed without warning at forty-two, I watched as her life imploded, never to be the same.

We were both like gathering storms, two forces of nature determined to have our own way. She loved but did not understand me, and I understood but sometimes failed, to appreciate her.

She was the first person in her family to attend university, an opportunity she was more than happy to extend to me, and one of which she was most proud.

Sarcastic, funny, irreverant and often surprising, she walked with her head up, rarely bowing to sorrow in public, a trait we both share.

She died at 59 of cancer. Her name was Sarah.

Do You Ever Wonder About These Things?

2010-11-07T10:18:00.000-08:00

A recent post by Barbara at http://looking2live.blogspot.com has got me thinking of the serendipitous nature of choice and how one decision can impact or cause a whole series of events.

In my life, certain pivotal moments stand out:

Coming to the city I live in now as opposed to going to university somewhere else; That decision, determined more by parents, is one that on some level, I've always regretted. Being overseas,however, meant choosing from catalogues rather than making an in-person visit. My mother had an aunt here and was under the illusion that her extended family would somehow make a difference. They did not. The life and friendships created were my own. I rarely saw my mother's relations and do not generally hear from them.

Refusing to marry at twenty, a choice I knew would have closed more opportunities than it created.

Realising that my ex-pat experiences profoundly influenced not only my worldview and feelings of not quite fitting in here, but the people I would keep as friends. Several of them are widely travelled, educated and more than monolingual.

A chance meeting at a party led me to the editor of my college daily, and a small clerical job that became a staff writing position. This led me to abandon my original plans to teach. Instead, I became a freelance writer and author. I am working my way back to this since library opportunities are few and far between.

Bouncing back appears to be something I do well, despite hating change. I learn quickly generally, something that has worked in my favour. Life is not for the faint-hearted and I am not among them.

Someone recently said of me that I have no particular reason to be anywhere. This is as frightening as it is exhilerating. If this is true for you, what would you do?

Have The Voters Here Gone Mad?

2010-11-03T17:16:00.000-07:00

I just have to wonder...

Perhaps I should job-hunt in Canada...

Election Day Blues...

2010-11-01T15:42:00.000-07:00

I read online today courtesy of the Miami Herald that two million votes have already been cast in this state thanks to the convenience of early voting. This includes one million absentee paper ballots, one of which was mine.

Reading and researching the amendments on the ballot here is always interesting. One begins to wonder who writes these things and whether they are paid by the level of obfuscation reached.

Another interesting local tidbit involves a county commissioner whose name, when I voted, was still on the ballot. His name has now has been removed due to what amounts to chicanery, something unfortunately not unheard of in politicians or lobbyists.

Rather than watch several hotly contested races, I will be at hospital for PT in the late morning and then do some necessaries in the neighbourhood. Since I make it a point to live sans telly, I escaped most of the vitriolic rantings of those running for office, something that seems to worsen with each election.

I do read and look up voting records; I also look up amendments and examine endorsements, occasionally casting a cynical eye toward the editorial pages to see if those with views often not my own have any valid ideas or points worthy of consideration. I have also written the odd letter to my governmental representatives. Only once did I received a reply. Having marched in both the state and national capitols and stuffed envelopes for various pols over the years, I have grown cynical.

As a registered voter since the age of eighteen, I have also seen parties come and go, voting manipulation, politicians I would never invite home for a chat let alone put in office, and all manner of obfuscation and avoidance of the job for which some politicians were elected, as well as low voter turn out.

I am now one of the disaffected, a situation I fear permanent. I hope tomorrow turns out better than I anticipate it will.

Until Next Time...

Contemplation...

2010-10-26T22:04:00.001-07:00

I leave you to think about this and wherever it takes you...

Until Next Time...

Well, Now What?

2010-10-25T16:15:00.000-07:00

I have been experimenting with my digital camera, trying to get interesting captures of shadows, particularly as evenings lengthen and the seasons change...

So far, I've netted pictures so dark that all one sees is blackness, the grays and whites of shadowed limbs and other things almost indiscernible.

Can anyone offer advice? If so, kindly send an email to which I'll respond.

The flat batteries have been replaced and I've a new charger as well, so this isn't the camera but the user who is the problem.

Thanks,

Until Next Time...

The Gift Of Time...

2010-10-11T20:14:00.000-07:00

It has been an interesting couple of weeks. I've been asked back to the specialised library in which I volunteered prior to beginning this blog. I will be doing the work of an archivist, describing and organising a specific collection and creating a finding aid for those that want to access it for research purposes.

I am also looking into taking a class, though I know not where yet, so blogging will be brief for the foreseeble future. I'll let you all know more as it unfolds. All will be good to put on the CV and I can make the best use of time away from paid employment, which in this area, has shown little to no improvement.

What would you do with the gift of time?

Cheers!

The Waiter's Face Went White...

2010-10-03T14:52:00.000-07:00

A postcard and true story, from 1973.

Making our way down the ink-black street, on a late July night, the first thing my parents and I took notice of was the quiet. Walking just blocks from our Paris hotel, we found the restaurant recommended by the concierge for a late dinner.

Opening a door at the street, we mounted a series of steps taking us into a large room. Bathed in the semi-darkness of candlelight, it held few diners and from where we were seated, the two large swinging doors led into the kitchen, out of which our harried waiter soon appeared.

After taking our order, the soup course was quickly dispatched. I was about to take the first spoonful when my mother's hand landed atop mine and she hissed, "Wait."

Concerned about a possible breach of etiquette, I looked into her face, seeing complete dismay, then noted her spoon as she checked from the bottom of her bowl upward. Taking mine, she did the same motion, unfortunately with the same result. She then looked at my dad and said, "I need to check that."

He handed over his uneaten soup, waited for her to look and wordlessly went in search of the chef. Seeing him depart the table, the waiter materialised and demanded to know the nature of our problem.

My mother knew a few words of French, all of them polite. She had no way to tell the man that Madame was was livid. It was down to me, showing the waiter the contents of all three bowls, spreading the findings on a pristine cloth napkin for closer inspection and saying, "Les cafards," before his face went ashen, then white, and he sputtered apologies.

Parisian waiters are known for being a bit brusque, so his reaction, overheard by a friend of the chef at the next table, soon brought out the chef and his staff, with my dad bringing up the rear.

Despite repeated assurances that the kitchen was clean and there were no insects anywhere, the chef looked through all of our soup bowls and glanced at the napkin, his face flaming.

He looked briefly at Madame, then at me before giving apologies to my father for this "irregularity."

Our omelettes were inspected and then eaten in silence.

I do not recall the name of the establishment. I am told by various bloggers in France that it is indeed uncommon to encounter soup teeming with anything other than its original ingredients.

Until Next Time...

Fence: A Theme Thursday Post

2010-09-30T10:10:00.000-07:00

Photo Courtesy of M. Crane, 2008. Published By Permission.

It is always interesting to see what lies beyond some fences...

American tax dollars at work...

Until Next Time...

A Nod To My Fancy Friend In Kent...

2010-09-29T11:58:00.000-07:00

Those of you familiar with French Fancy or the latest incarnation of her lovely blog, French Fancy Moves To Kent, may recognise the subject of this post.

The Ten Things That Have Happened Recently To Make Me Happy:

Getting my chronic back problem sorted---for now...

Receiving a card from a secret admirer...

Eradicating fleas from the flat---they came in from outside and as the cats are on preventive for fleas, once the few cloth-ladened surfaces were sprayed with boric acid, they had nowhere to deposit eggs. The few adults that dared visit the furry ones met with a hasty end...

Noticing that I am a few pounds lighter; I could be lighter still. I'll see what happens getting back to my hospital fitness program...

Finding out that I do not need to replace my digital camera...

Looking for wheelchair friendly horses to ride when I've the time...

Enjoying the sunshine and laughing when caught in the rain...

Making sure the kids in my life are doing well...

Indulging my passion for a good book or a beach read, depending upon my mood...

Discovering that my cache of foreign films and British television is better than anticipated...

What makes you happy these days?

Ah, Life In The Nineties...

2010-09-26T14:08:00.000-07:00

This tale from my younger days is true and was part of an e-mail sent to another blogger. What was your life like back then?

Image From Wikipedia. It is in the public domain worldwide and has been cropped. It is used here for illustrative purposes only.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

In the mid-nineties, I found myself part of a wave of thirty-somethings seeking work. On the day of an Employment Fair at my university, I arrived, CV in hand, dressed in a beautiful red skirt and matching jacket. Having taken pains to find exactly the right creamy silk blouse for the ensemble, I looked the picture of confidence.

Concluding an interview, I shook hands with the hiring manager to whom I had been speaking, leaving the room excited to be starting a job in the next two weeks.

The exits, likewise brimming with flurries of skirts and suits, all rushing to various destinations, some no doubt unforeseen, only added to my growing anticipation.

It was not until I reached the row of cars containing mine that an odd sensation gradually replaced the heady feelings I'd carried from the interview.

A small, almost imperceptible snap led to a slow downward migration until the crotch of my sheer tights rested between my knees, impeding further efforts to get to my car.

In a split-second decision, I crouched between two Jeeps. However, removing the offending tights, and trying to jettison my favourite flats without burning my feet on hot asphalt, wasn't as easy to accomplish as I'd imagined.

No sooner was I free of shoes and busily yanking off the last shred of hosiery when I heard in booming bass: "What do you think you're doing there, Miss?"

The snapped elastic band of tights in hand, my eyes migrated to the burliest male specimen of a police officer I'd ever encountered. Tall, and exceedingly muscular, he had no discernible neck, and his light blue eyes reflected an air of impenetrable reserve and calm.

Cramming my left foot into its shoe, I decided that a quick departure was in order and pasted a smile on my face to hide rising panic.

"I had a small problem but it's over now," I said. Before he could respond, I added, "Would you be a dear and dispose of these? They've seen better days and I hate to leave a mess. Thanks ever so much."

With that, I hurled the defective hosiery in his direction, and took off toward my car, glancing backward only once to see whether he was in pursuit.

The increasing peels of laughter that met my ears only faded as the driver's door opened and I started the engine...

Until Next Time...

There I Was, Minding My Own Business When...

2010-09-24T03:21:00.000-07:00

I was asked by an acquaintance, "What is the strangest thing you have ever seen through a window?"

My mind flashed in a million different directions, each conveying images grown distant with time. After a momentary pause, I related the following story.

As teens a friend and I often spent dinners together. As I was helping with the washing up afterward one evening, I noticed a strange white Cadillac slowly approaching the houses in the neighbourhood.

These houses were all two-storey, built on stilts and in a circle. The kitchen windows, well above the street, afforded a view of everything that went on. Early evening was normally quiet.

My friend and I could see the Cadillac but did not get a clear view of the driver until the car stopped suddenly. A man wearing a Panama hat and a long-sleeved white guayaberra emerged, shut the car door and glanced around.

At this point, my friend and I wondered if he might be lost or worse, planning a robbery. I was about to fetch her parents when laughter broke out. Turning slightly, I noted my friend pointing and followed her gaze until the man's side came into
view. Shock gave way to giggling as we realised he was urinating in the street, a far from normal occurrence as far as we were concerned.

It was odd to see a well-dressed,middle-aged man in a luxury car using the street as a bathroom and we wondered aloud whether he might be drunk, though his movements gave no hint of this.

I dropped the plate I had just washed into the sink and watched as the man wiped himself with a handkerchief, got back into his car and drove off into the setting sun, his actions forever a mystery.

Knackered, But Hopeful For The New Year...

2010-09-19T14:52:00.000-07:00

With the end of the High Holy Days, a new year has commenced. Though I'm tired from participating in a 26 hour fast and services throughout the day Saturday, the prospect of a new year brings with it many possibilities.

I feel renewed and ready for whatever comes. I was able to clear the air with a friend last week and spoke to another this afternoon who is facing some challenges regarding a family member's health.

The cats and I had a bit of sleeping in this morning and tonight will be an early one, provided I complete the bill paying and other paperwork at hand. This week, I see the dentist. While routine, visiting the dentist has never been enjoyable, particularly as I have no insurance to cover the costs. He says I'll soon need a crown for over $1300, so I'm hoping the tooth will hold for several more months.

I met a handsome labradoodle service dog and his delightful raiser two weeks ago, and a seed of interest was planted. The dog is being raised to assist a child or an adult who uses a wheelchair. As I have limited experience with dogs, I was initially reluctant around the dog, but once invited to say hello, he was irresistible.

Having already spoken to the feline vet about how to introduce my cats to a dog since they have not been around one...we'll see what unfolds. I am concerned about the costs, exercising and stimulating the dog adequately and bonding properly with it.

From what I have read, labs and mixes such as labradoodles are very smart and require both adequate exercise and intellectual stimulation if behavioral difficulties are to be avoided. I would think that a working dog would have less opportunity for boredom than those kept strictly as pets.

In my wanderings around the web, I encountered a blog about service dogs that has been very enlightening. See http://servicedogsawayoflife.blogspot.com.

If anyone with a labradoodle has suggestions, please feel free to leave comments or send me an e-mail.

Until Next Time...

You Rode In A What?...

2010-09-15T10:22:00.000-07:00

This is a Theme Thursday post from August, 2009. I reprise it today by request. I have never driven nor have I ridden in a Daimler like the one pictured here. That image is from Wikipedia and is in the public domain. It is used here solely for illustrative purposes.

-------------------------------------------------------------

You Wait, I Bring Limo...

On a long ago visit to Mexico City, my grandfather and I got lost. Eventually, my precocious twelve-year-old self demanded a loo, so we began rather earnestly looking for a taxi back to our hotel, where we expected to re-join my parents.

The main thoroughfares of the city appeared clogged with traffic of various vehicular proportions and it soon became evident that all of the taxis were in use. Continuing our walk, we spied a young man working in a garage. Sliding from beneath a worn chassis, he asked, "I help you?"

His name was Enrique. A bevy of broken Spanish and English ensued, accompanied by a hastily drawn map. Noticing my grandfather's increasingly quizzical countenance, he gestured for us to stay put, his voice trailing off after, "You wait, I bring limo..."

We weren't at all certain we wanted a ride in a limousine, but as my need for a loo was growing, Enrique's rapid disappearance up the crowded street brought hope of a quick dash to our hotel room's spotless commode.

The shade of the garage offered respite from the early afternoon's rising heat but did nothing against the cacophony of belching exhausts, agitated shouts or horns of various decibels teeming in the street.

When after several minutes, the commanding voice behind a bullhorn approached, many, including my grandfather and I, were instantly hushed. Gazing out, we saw Enrique, bullhorn in hand, leaning from the passenger window of a 1950's era hearse.

After a barely discernible expletive from my grandfather, the street cleared as on the sidewalk people gawked, presumably concerned about the identity of the finned vehicle's occupants.

Stopping in front of the garage, the driver explained in hurried English that he was Enrique's cousin, Alberto, and owned a nearby funeral home. He was only to happy to escort us back to our hotel since he was meeting someone at the bar there for lunch.

Scanning the hearse's back window, my grandfather then glanced at me and said "Gracias," as its rear door opened and we climbed inside. A short and silent ride later, I found myself looking into the eyes of a confused bellman as I quickly exited the hearse, grandfather in tow, amid a flurry of hasty goodbyes.

Sadly, I have no pictures from that day, nor have I ever ridden in an actual limousine. I do however, know what the quiet of a hearse feels like, and I'm in no hurry for the next such adventure.

The phrase, "You wait here, I bring limo..." reminds me of lines from films one cannot forget and I always recall the sweet and sweaty young man, with a mop of brown hair, his hands stained with grease, running through a crowded lane...

For Fly in the Web : A Hair Raising Tale and More...

2010-09-14T10:52:00.000-07:00

This map, originally created by an individual in the Central Intelligence Agency, is in the public domain and courtesy of Wikipedia. It is used here for illustrative purposes only.

______________________

My blogger friend, the Fly in the Web (http://real-france.blogspot.com) asked that I tell the tale related to my comment made on her latest posting. As it jostled brain cells, I remembered a rather hair raising ride up a Colombian mountain in a dusty chartered coach that looked to have seen better days.

A group from Panama were visiting Bogota, and decided to visit a nearby town renowned for its leather goods. It was the early seventies and well before any notion of drug lords or nefarious robbers dented the daily lives of citizens or expats in the region.

Escaping the haze over the city, we found fields dotted with flowers and cows, small children playing in faded, mud-rutted yards and peaks, their jagged edges like fingers extending skyward.

Winding mountain bends left my stomach tightly knotted; As was my wont, I soothed early teenage discomfort by letting my mind wander, far more at ease with my books and imagination than the din of conversations occurring around me.

Reverie was short-lived, however. Disturbed by a brief stop for picture taking, I stifled laughter as a friend of my parents stepped out on to the nearest fields' cow pies, mistaking them for paving stones. Dried in the sun, all were by that time odourless, a small grace on a crowded coach.

Unfazed by errant humans, three cows grazed a stones' throw from the flurry of re-boarding activity. It wasn't until the coach lurched around several precarious turns, its wheels barely touching the narrow roadway, that some of the adults noticed our driver's increasingly slurred, discordant singing and the brown paper bag from which he was imbibing what turned out to be grain alcohol.

Quickly concocting a means of extrication, one of the women yelled, "Bano, por favor, Senor," which brought us to a harrowing stop a short distance from a sign pointing to the leather goods factory we were to visit.

Someone explained to the driver that we had all decided to walk into town in search of appropriate facilities. The men separated themselves from women and children, sending us to the factory while they went in search of a map and a policeman.

I recall nothing at all about the factory and have since wondered whether my general dislike of driving and shopping were born that day...

Until Next Time...

Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back...

2010-09-13T14:06:00.000-07:00

Several of you have enquired how I am doing since I've not blogged recently. While I was initially optimistic regarding calming down my low back and quite ready to resume life sans PT, it appears that my body has other plans, so that is continuing for now. Since sitting for extended periods aggravates this particular problem, blogging and other forms of writing have been curtailed, with my apologies. I was also busy during Rosh Hashanah and will be again during Yom Kippur.

The massage therapist is booked for tomorrow morning and I remain convinced that all will once again be well. The last episode of this kind was three years ago and I was walking rather than wheeling which apparently makes a difference.I know that the H-Wave, stretching and other things are helping, just not as rapidly as expected.

I appreciate your visits and comments as well as the good wishes and will get to each as I am able.

Until Next Time...

Film Break: Timothy Spall as Albert Pierrepoint

2010-08-26T12:11:00.000-07:00

Released in 2006, the film Pierrepoint brings us the story of one of England's most prolific executioners, Albert Pierrepoint. Played compellingly by Timothy Spall, Pierrepoint assumed the mantle of family tradition, following in the footsteps of his father and uncle when he received training for and was placed on the list of executioners in 1933.

As the film opens, Pierrepoint and others are being instructed in the process of delivering a condemned prisoner to the hangman's noose, which we learn is a matter of precision and timing as well as physical condition, weight and height. It is this attention to detail and precision which later distinguishes the otherwise unassuming Pierrepoint,eventually bringing him to the attention of British military officials. One of these selects Pierrepoint to come to Germany to execute Nazi war criminals from the concentration camp in Belsen. But for the publication of this fact, Pierrpoint may have continued working anonymously.

While it might be easy to dismiss any hangman as brutish or callous, Spall's portrayal of Pierrepoint reveals a happily married man with neighbors and friends who sees his hangman's duties as service to England's home office. Furthermore, the specificity with which he renders his services leaves no room for the condemned to suffer, something Pierrepoint views as compassionate.

With his identity and reputation as a hangman exposed, Pierrepoint is initially widely cheered for executing nazis. However, as the hangman for English felons, he also faces contempt and the rising tide against the death penalty beginning in England.

The grocery delivery man turned publican also experiences a shock when one of his pub regulars, convicted of the murder of a former girlfriend, is to be hanged, and Pierrepoint learns he is the man's executioner.

Albert Pierrepoint resigned his post in 1955, later writing a book about his experiences as a hangman. Two footnotes appear as the film. One notes that Pierrepoint took part in 608 executions. The other is a quote in which Pierrepoint observes that the death penalty, rather than deterring crime, only satisfies a need for revenge.

The last hanging in England occured in 1964, and the death penalty for murder abolished there in 1969, although it remained in effect for certain other crimes until 1998.

As a viewer, I was left wondering why anyone would choose to become a hangman. The motive certainly wasn't money since hangman were paid little and sometimes nothing at all.

Tim Spall's performance makes this a must-see, one's views on capital punishment not withstanding. Other equally notable cast members include Juliet Stevenson as Anne Pierrepoint and Eddie Marsan as James "Tish" Corbett.

An interesting aside is that this film was titled The Last Hangman and in fact, Albert Pierrepoint was not the last at all, simply the most well known.

Until Next Time...

H-Wave, I Love You...

2010-08-26T10:11:00.000-07:00

Thanks to those of you who extended good wishes on my previous post; I'm on the path to feeling well without drugs which do not help my particular problem.

In addition to intensive stretching,exercise, massage and e-stim, my DPT and clinic provide h-wave technology to patients. Unlike Tens and e-stim, h-wave does not fool pain receptors, it actually shifts fluid through an injured area which improves circulation, reduces inflammation, breaks the pain cycle and promotes healing. I was hooked up for 25 minutes today and I'm pain-free at present for the first time in a month.

If interested in further explanation, you can go to the website for Electronic Waveform Lab, the U.S. creator and seller of h-wave at http://www.h-wave.com. I receive no compensation for sharing this link with you, nor am I connected in any way with the company represented.

I will say that the staff and owner of this PT clinic appear to have done their homework.

One of my recent commentors observes that I spend a lot of time "keeping myself up."
I elected to delete the rest of what was said in the interest of decorum but cutting a long story short, yes, I do, and so do most people who live with either disability or chronic health concerns.

After all is said and done, the quality of one's life and the energy it takes to live are sometimes proportional to effort expended. I've weathered changes I never thought I'd see and like everyone, I want to be as pain free and productive as possible.

Until Next Time...

Just When I Was Having A Bit Of Fun...

2010-08-23T14:41:00.000-07:00

Thanks to those of you who have stayed around to wonder where I've been the last month. My apologies for the unintended hiatus. I wish I could relate some spur-of-the-moment adventure in an exotic locale but the truth is purely mundane, I'm afraid.

Remember when I promised you would be reading a few tidbits about films, an essay or two and perhaps some poetry??? I did not lie. I had several things selected, but life often interrupts best laid plans...

I was watching an off-beat spawn of Showtime and laughing when I felt the first frightening twinges of spasm in my left low back. Quickly becoming tighter than a fist, the pain eventually spread over my entire left side and into my hip and butt, and I knew it was back to the physical and massage therapists for me.

This problem dates from a motor vehicle accident almost six years ago, but it re-surfaces now and again, and is generally held at bay with a series of stretches and exercises I do daily with almost religious fervor.

Though I was able to book the massage therapist for a Saturday appointment, I would have to wait until Monday for a PT slot...So began a regime of heat, stretches, and ice. The first of what was to be four massages was a Godsend. I could actually sit without wanting to scream afterward...

I will probably conclude PT this week. The upshot is that Godot in his original condition did not provide sufficient back support, and sitting without that aggrevates the original problem. Additionally, I cannot just do my home regimen, it and other core strengthing exercises must become part of my fitness routine at the hospital.

Godot's backrest is now brimming with added padding...I have yet another birthday behind me and I'm wondering where the prized digital camera is hiding...Pardon me while I contort...I'll catch up with postings later this week.

Until Next Time...

An Orange County Park In Winter...

2010-07-22T04:43:00.000-07:00

This is Orange county in January...

Warmer than the east coast at that point and a beautiful afternoon...

The horses and ducks loved it.

Happy Theme Thursday!

Until Next Time...

I Know You're All Wondering...

2010-07-13T09:14:00.001-07:00

The doctor's nurse called to say that my thyroid is normal and there was nothing on the scan. When I queried whether a problem was still in the offing because the bloodwork wasn't as it should be, she did not know. I asked her to have the doctor call me. No call yesterday and none today thus far...

This is good news, but the happy dance will need to wait until my questions are answered. Given the state of the U.S. medical system, that should be sometime in the next century, provided someone can find the paper on which my request was recorded...

In the interim, I venture to hospital for a workout, and leave you all with the following rather sarcastic reflections on modern life:

Whom did you think you were chasing?

Her head cocked, the question hangs in the air, unanswered...
It is clear, despite protestations to the contrary, that you are no White Knight,
Tilting at life's conundrums, gathering damsels perceived distressed...
Erudite at first glance, chinks in your facade reveal a mere terrified mortal…
Once more, a victim of your own grand delusions…

Fleeing intimacy’s final gaze…

**********************************************

One can do so much via e-mail and the Internet;
We've forgotten tact, courtesy and our grandmother's oft-uttered, "Treat as you would like to be treated."

There is the act of flaming; PLACING DESIRES, EPITHETS AND QUIXOTIC TURNS OF PHRASE IN CAPS, the equivalent of screaming, in case the person reading has suddenly forgotten that your words do have a point, and that you intend to make it, come what may.

Or the proverbial, "I can't risk talking to you in person right now because my emotions may get the better of me," leading inevitably to a mish-mash of words, which when translated result in the need for a clean break, and no further hyperbole onscreen or off.

A kiss-off Internet-style...

Tacky, and without merit as it may be, to which I say, with gusto: Amen!

Until Next Time and Still Wondering...

Summertime But The Livin' Ain't Easy...

2010-07-06T17:11:00.001-07:00

It has been both rainy and hot here the last few days. It was so ugly that a planned outing to see fourth of July fireworks was cancelled. Each of us opted to stay home and dry, so my evening was spent returning telephone calls and watching three very annoyed felines hide as bottle rockets were set aloft by kids in the adjacent neighbourhood.

The updating of my CV and cover letters was stymied by several small power surges and outages for the electrics and computer. I'll get to that after the morning medical appointment tomorrow. I'm to have the first of a two-part procedure to check the thyroid for a growth or tumor. This involves taking an iodine pill that should reveal on x-ray whether anything is amiss, and doing a follow up x-ray on Thursday morning for comparison. If anyone has had this done, I'm wondering whether one should present with an empty stomach and how soon after the pill one can eat?

Apart from these, I've several job-related appointments to set up and some research to do for a bibliography. Like other bloggers, I cannot believe it is July. Time is flying at warp speed, it seems. Life is getting faster just as I've had to slow down a bit.

That said, I'm looking for some decent summer reads. Someone suggested a tome by Thom Hartmann entitled, "Screwed: The Undeclared War against the Middle Class...and What We Can Do About It."

I haven't had time to check out reviews, but unless this book promises a cure for my growing concern and pessimism, I think I'll indulge in something a wee bit lighter, for now at least.

You can expect to see more poems and esseys here, along with a couple of film reviews in the coming days.

Until Next Time...

What Can I Say?...

2010-06-28T12:15:00.000-07:00

I don't yet have the results from the lab for the blood work...

All is quiet at Chez Moi but for an occasional sneeze from my gentleman cat who, it seems, has assumed all rights to the pillows and my side of the bed. This bed-hogging coincided with several visits by someone who will not be coming by any longer. It is as though my male cat is daring me to sleep on the opposite side so that there is no room for anyone extra, apart from his sister cats who sleep at my feet, in the bed.

A bit of jealousy, perhaps? A protective instinct?

Apart from this recent aberration, this moggie is an agreeable sort. A tuxedo or bi-color, at nine, he is on the cusp of feline old age while retaining his curious and playful nature. He tends to vocalise, often calling to me if we are in different parts of the flat. I have read that one should carefully observe a cat's reaction to strangers...Perhaps he picked up on something that I did not with my now former friend. There must be some truth to the belief that tuxes are often smarter than other cats. In this case, he may have even been a bit smarter that his favourite human. If only he could cook, clean and do housework...

I'm off to hospital for my work out, hoping to beat the late day summer rains common in this part of the world.

I'll also be making a few changes to this blog as time permits between projects.

Until Next Time...

Another Neme...

2010-06-23T18:21:00.000-07:00

If I keep blogging so infrequently, you may stop popping in...

The temporary job ended after a three-month stint, so I am once more pounding the virtual pavement and beginning to consider additional graduate work, both of which may ultimately lead to moving from here...

I'm also writing, resuming my regular synagogue services and returning to exercise at the hospital twice weekly. Those of us in the Virtual Book Club have read an interesting trio of books, all with Paris-related themes, so if you're interested, check them out...

Additional medical and dental issues have come to light and options for both are being investigated. I had a fun time with a cute vampire at the clinic lab today following a doctor visit. The vampire left his mark not on my neck, but in the crook of my right arm...

The neme below is a fun one, borrowed from FRENCH FANCY and her friend fly, of the fly in the web.

1. What will you do while the World Cup is on?

I enjoy European football much more than its American counterpart, so I'll visit news and sports sites for information on the various teams...

2. What picks you up when you're down?

A good cup of tea and a chat with a friend, though my feline companions are always good for a cuddle and a laugh...

3. India or China--we're talking tea--not economies...

I'd have to say English or Irish for me when it comes to tea...

4. What do you value most about blogging?

The range of people and experiences I've encountered...I've met some very nice individuals in places I never thought I'd see or hear much about, and blogging is one of the best ways I've found to put faces and names to some of the issues of the day across the world.

5. What can't you throw out from your wardrobe?

My late grandfather's pyjamas.

6. Would you rather people did not ask your opinion on controversial issues?

My rule about asking such things is I only answer if I am comfortable with the person asking, otherwise, its a nonstarter.

7. Do you ever recommend people then wish you had not?

No. I avoid that potential quagmire entirely.

8. Do you own up to reading light novels or hide them beneath cushions when visitors arrive?

I read avidly and have wide ranging interests as well as a curious nature, so I do sometimes read what might be considered airplane fare for travellers or the book one can read while waiting in a queue at the post office, but not often. As I have no cushions under which to hide books, doing so would not occur to me.

9. Do you find yourself content with your own company or are you gregarious?

Increasingly, I am content with my own company, though I do enjoy my friends and try to treat them well.

10. What one thing would noticeably improve your life?

A job I enjoyed in a place I found liveable...

Until Next Time...

Theme Thursday: Pets...

2010-05-19T17:15:00.000-07:00

This post originally appeared here in 2009...

My pets---Phoebe, Angel and Jacob---mean the world to me. They are all foundlings, and the two girls have never known another human friend or family.
Angel, the geriatric Siamese, is thirteen, and was no bigger than the center of my hand when I found her in a garbage bin years ago. I righted it and out she came---a furry ball of fawn fiestiness, yowling at the world for a crumb, her blue eyes fixed on me from the start.

She has always been high strung and vocal. It took me several years to convince her she did not have to search our kitchen garbage bin for scraps.
Phoebe, a black shadow, is a mix born of feral parents and brought indoors. She doesn't like anyone but me and climbs to the highest spot in our apartment to avoid guests. She's a ham with the other cats, and lives up to the word princess in every sense. Her favorite spot is my lap.

Jacob, the handsome black and white tux, is a gentleman. Affectionate and sociable, he spent months as an orphan before I brought him home on my birthday four years ago. He was an adult then, and the girls were miffed for months over his inclusion in our family, but with one well-aimed swipe of his front paw, he chose me.
Once a cat selects a human, the human has little choice. The love and faith of a cat isn't easily bestowed, particularly if the cat has been abused, orphaned or left to its own devices. Jacob guards the girls and me from intruders. He loves to cuddle and play and is a fanatic for unattended salad greens.

All came with health problems and though indoor, developed and carry feline herpes virus, a highly contagious airborne disease that remains in the cat's body after initial exposure. All receive medication daily. Happily, this trio hasn't had an outbreak in months. They eat well and chase each other around the apartment with an abandon I often envy. Angel and Phoebe, star soccer divas, swoop and dive for balls of paper at every opportunity.

Their lives spared, these three provide hours of fun and lend an element of grace and comfort to our small abode. I believe that we were gifts given to each other, and I wish that humans had more respect for the animals and other life forms on this whirling planet we call home.

Until Next Time...

Goodbye, George...

2010-05-19T15:23:00.000-07:00

As I was leaving the car park outside my work place last afternoon, the driver, who regularly sees me to work and home, spotted a man lying on the ground next to his vehicle. We stopped, and my driver went to render assistance.

From my vantage point, I could see the man on the ground was unmoving. CPR was begun, and help was fetched from my workplace as the first responders were called. Two people, one of whom was my driver, kept working until two ambulance teams showed up. As a crowd of our employees and onlookers continued to gather, their faces went from strain to shock, and finally, to tears.

As paramedics worked feverishly, I learned that a colleague had collapsed, and that things did not look good for him. A retired science teacher, writer and very bright and engaging man, George was also a longtime seasonal employee of my company and had many friends there.

The mood was somber today as we all learned that he had passed away. He was just in the process of applying for his social security retirement benefit, and so was still in his sixties...

I hope he will rest in peace and serve as an example of someone who enjoyed his time to the fullest.

Until Next Time...

25 Question Neme...

2010-05-16T13:58:00.000-07:00

Megan put this on her blog. I thought I'd give it a go since it is a lazy Sunday and nothing of note comes to mind...

1. What's your favourite Dr. Seuss book?

The Cat in the Hat, of course!

2. If you could live in any home on a television series, what would it be?

Shipley Windmill, the fictional home of Jonathan Creek, the magician who solved crimes with a female sidekick in the BBC series.

3. What's the longest you've gone without sleep? Twenty-four hours...and don't ask why!

4. What's your favourite Barry Manilow song? Is this a trick question? I did not know there was such a thing...

5. Who's your favourite Muppet? Kermit...It ain't easy bein' green...

6. What's the habit you're proudest of breaking? The one that was stealing my life...

7. What's your favourite website? Le petit mort...Just goes to the point that anyone can post anything on the Web...

8. What's your favourite school supply? I'm a notebook girl, all the way...

9. Who's your favourite TV attorney? The one who gets run over by the ambulance he's chasing...

10. What was your most recent trip of more than 50 miles? Southern California...

11. What's the best bargain you've ever found at a garage sale or junk shop? Limoges plates...

12. Where were you on September 11, 2001? Sadly, in the U.S.

13. What's your favourite tree? Banyan...

14. What's the most interesting biography you've read? Katherine Graham's Personal History...

15. What do you order when you eat Chinese food? I don't eat a lot of this but on the odd occasion, Broc and tofu...

16. What's the best costume you've ever worn? The Bunny Costume...

17. What's your least favourite word? Putain...You can look up the translation yourself...

18. If you had to be named after one of the 50 states, which would it be? I'd flee the country rather than endure that...

19. Who's your favourite bear? Smokey...

20. Describe something that's happened to you for which you have no explanation. My mother already detailed my conception, that should be more than enough answer to this enquiry...

If you could travel anywhere in Africa, where would it be? I'd visit Karen of Bordertown Notes or Val of Monkeys on the Roof, two favourite bloggers who produce wonderful photos and commentary about their corners of the planet...

22. What did you have for lunch yesterday? Nothing...I missed it...

23. Where do you go for advice? Well, I might go to Megan, if she'd ever answer her mobile...

24. Which do you use more often, the dictionary or the thesaurus? Thesaurus...

25. Have you ever been snorkeling? Scuba diving? Yes to the snokeling, no to the diving...

It is tea time at chez moi and the natives are restless...

Until Next Time...

Some Things Speak For Themselves...

2010-05-05T16:30:00.000-07:00

This California seaside bloom needs no words...

Happy Thursday Everyone!

Until Next Time...

Tired But Re-Hired...

2010-04-30T10:39:00.000-07:00

We finished the project at work last afternoon, a bit earlier than anticipated, so I am enjoying the three-day weekend and catching up with bills, the flat and other odd bits today. I was to have gone to lunch with a friend, but too many errands on the friends' end cancelled that, unfortunately. Now, I've two hours or so until the weekly grocery delivery arrives, laundry to put away and a nice Earl Grey Decaf, courtesy of Twinings of London, loading me with welcome antioxidants. If I could find this tea in whole leaf rather than bagged, I'd enjoy it even more.

The best news is that I've been re-hired for the next two weeks, and possibly the six weeks following which will bring me to the close of this company's seasonal work schedule. Though mentally demanding, all the work stays at the site, which means a day off is just as it should be, and my time is my own. It also means no work, no pay, so today, I am paid in the gift of time, and will enjoy the end of a French film I began two days ago, a new book and possibly, a nap. I'll also visit various blogs I've missed lately.

Until Next Time...

It Was A Dark And Stormy Day...

2010-04-18T15:19:00.000-07:00

I know some of you are wondering whatever has happened over the last two weeks...
I got everyone's question(s) answered, so if you've not seen the responses, take a peek. Thanks to all who played along.

I've become a bit of a working drudge--up before the sun, at work by a bit after seven and home, often exhausted, by five. Household chores, animals and meal prep, PT, then early to bed and a night of often dreamless sleep. I do a half mile circuit round the business complex everyday during lunch. This gives me a bit of sun, a chance to escape my windowless work space and exercise. I do crunches and stretches in the evening from the comfort of my bed, missing the hospital machines and exercise regime all the while. In case you're wondering, I do plan on returning to the hospital when this is over, but the eight-hour day puts a drain on the energy and having gone to PT after work in the past, I was often so tired getting home that other necessaries were abandoned continuously, with unpleasant consequences for me.

The feline members of the household are not enjoying being alone during the day and register their irritation in small and very annoying ways, including leaving "presents" in my bed, chewing holes in favourite socks and deliberately waking me an hour earlier than is customary for their breakfast. If I didn't love the little blighters, they'd be up for adoption in a snap.

Errands and household stuff are accomplished piecemeal, and if I haven't answered the odd e-mail, I will. No problems regarding Godot in this workplace, which is lovely.

Other than getting some necessities for the flat, and the odd trim, I haven't planned anymore outings and rainy weather kept me inside today. I will miss the upcoming initiation into the international Library Honor Society, Beta Phi Mu, but it is one more small detail for the CV, whether I'm there or not.

Mundane life, innit???

Until Next Time...

So, What Would You Ask?

2010-04-02T16:40:00.000-07:00

It's almost the weekend, and I've nothing fabulous to write about, so I thought I'd ask any interested readers the following: If you could ask me just one question, what would it be?

Of course, I do reserve the right not to answer if the question is deemed inappropriate, but I'm curious to see what your enquiries may be.

I'll leave this post up for the next few days. Those interested can pop in to see the answers.

Happy Weekend Everyone!

Until Next Time...

Catching Up...

2010-03-31T14:19:00.000-07:00

This is the first night out of the last several that I've reached home at a reasonable hour with a bit of time to decompress. My temp job is slated to run through the end of April, and only at the end will I discover whether I have been asked back for another. Work for this company in my position generally ends about midsummer. I am taking things a step at a time. I did have a slight rise in pay since I was a returning employee, which I appreciate.

Monday of this week saw the first night of Pesach or Passover and I've attended two Seders, both of which were enjoyable and lend both history and meaning to this season.

As for Hamlet, the opera by French composer, Charles Louis Ambroisie Thomas, it was written in 1868, and was well worth seeing. I would recommend that anyone with the interest visit the website for the New York Metropolitan Opera. You can get information on next season and find out when offerings are broadcast in your area via radio. Live HD performances broadcast in theatres across the world can be found there as well. Sung completely in French, it is an adaptation rather than a straight portrayal of Shakespeare's work, with a different ending. Because Hamlet the opera is performed rarely, this was almost a once-in-a-lifetime event and the cast and maestro were fabulous.

The only blight on this activity occurred when members of an area opera club got a bit boisterous and were asked by other viewers to quiet down...

In case anyone wonders, I did not nod off, I'm happy to say.

I'll catch up on blogs as I can and leave you with yet another desert scene.

This marks my one hundredth post...Really, that is hard to believe!

Until Next Time...

Knackered And Hoping I Don't Nod Off During Hamlet...

2010-03-26T17:10:00.000-07:00

After rising with the birds and getting out the door at 7 AM, I am overdue for an early night. The work tires the brain, so I hope this post isn't incomprehensible. The people at my workplace are nice. Most are retired professionals who do seasonal temporary work.

I have been early to bed only to have sleep thwarted by noisy neighbours, cats and a sudden storm, so I hope I don't nod off during the New York Metropolitan Opera's reprisal of Hamlet tomorrow...

I wish everyone a wonderful weekend, and I'll check in with those of you on my blog list as I can.

Until Next Time...

And Now, A Brief Interlude From The Planet Of E...

2010-03-24T10:46:00.000-07:00

Megan of All I Need Is Everything put up an interesting neme based on the Seven Dwarfs as in Snow White and the...

Because I'm such a lazy cow, and can't come up with anything as remotely interesting, I thought I'd give this a go...

A gentle word of warning...All sarcasm is intended...

DOC:

This has until recently been plural for me. Now, I'm down to the one keeper of the lot. She listens well and unlike her colleagues, tends not to infuriate. I've changed docs like most people change underwear since the majority of them knew less about my life and health than they should.

One such highly credentialed pillock delivered shocking news to my mother forty five years ago when he said that I was unteachable, could not learn and should be institutionalised. As if this was infuriating enough for her, he then pronounced her deluded for believing otherwise. She often got things wrong, but not this, and I thank her departed spirit for this more often as I get older.

GRUMPY:

Her Royal Stroppiness on days I don't get sufficient rest, I am usually quiet unless I know someone well. People sometimes equate my reserve with stand offishness. I let them think what they will and try to live life on my own terms.

HAPPY:

I get really happy over little things these days, like not having to haul the bin bag out to the community dumpster or deal with the recycling since my neighbor handles that. I'm relieved to have the groceries delivered and delighted that my pets get in-home attention from their favourite veterinary technician. Like Megan, I also rejoice in having a washer and dryer in the flat. Now, if only I could get back over the pond for a visit, that would make me supremely happy...

SLEEPY:

The worst thing about being a midlife woman...I feel chronically in need of naps, and I hate being sleepy.

BASHFUL:

NOT...

I've never suffered from bashfulness...My mother taught me to set goals and meet them, a trait that belies being shy. I can talk to anyone and I carefully observe those around me.

SNEEZY:

A condition that developes when I get a nose full of fur as one of my feline friends sticks a paw or two on my nose, usually in an attempt to wake their lazy human for breakfast...an event that is far less appreciated at 4:30 AM than at 6 or thereafter.

DOPEY:

Only in a past life...No dope of any kind for me...

Working Stiff...

2010-03-20T09:15:00.000-07:00

I know several of you have been curious as to my recent absences here. Taking a bow from Baino, I don't normally write about extremely personal matters, at least not without being a bit veiled for privacy's sake, but the walls have been coming in on me a bit and I'm trying to make some decisions about what to do and where, as well as how and when...

One of the hardest things to deal with has been the flight of people I believed to be friends. Another has been lack of employment. This week, I will take a temporary job in my neighbourhood that is slated to last about five weeks. As the work is rather mentally demanding, my posts may be intermittent at best. I did post comments to those of you who read and commented on my previous post.

This job is by no means a career step, nor is the pay rate wonderful, but it is better than nothing. It will also be the first time I venture into the world of work since getting my chair.

I wish everyone a wonderful weekend and welcome your e-mails and comments. I'll leave you with a beautiful scene...

Until Next Time...

Think What You Will...

2010-03-15T07:32:00.000-07:00

Au revoir

Sparks flew the day we met
Between your eyes and mine
The sudden flash of desire

We argued over politics, countries, cultures,
All the while knowing that what we both wanted was
The geography of skin

Fingers unlacing, slowly tracing the plane of your cheek
We locked eyes, then lost ourselves to a Sunday’s rain
Its rhythms steady against the headiness of lust.

E, 2009

Theme Thursday: Hat

2010-03-10T09:36:00.000-08:00

Photo Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Original Painting located in the National Gallery, Washington, D.C. By Johannes Vermeer, circa 1665-66.

A favourite of mine, Girl with a Red Hat, was painted in the latter part of Vermeer's career. Because he was not prolific, and not well known beyond Delft, Vermeer's reputation as one of the foremost painters of the Dutch Golden Age was only established with the re-discovery of his work in the 19th century and thereafter.

The Girl with the Red Hat emphasises the artist's use of layered colour, texture and his interest in and use of light. I've always been intrigued by the model as I am in another of Vermeer's works, The Girl with the Pearl Earring.

Though I like hats, I rarely wear them. I would wear the red hat depicted here if I could. Both the shape and texture are eye-popping, don't you think?

Happy Theme Thursday.

Until Next Time...