Freedom Acres

Hmm Ho Hmm Ho

2011-12-21T13:05:00.000-05:00

I don't mean to diss Christmas. I really don't. I have the largest christmas tree the living room can take; there are decorations all over, lights and a wreath on the front door. I get into the holiday, I really do. And I also get excited at trying to get the perfect gift for everyone. But I am seriously running out of ideas, and my mother made a comment recently that made me think. She said, I think you've done it all.

I've spray painted a box to look like the Tower of London when Hallie was going to London and our big gift to her that year was money. I hung it, chandelier-like from the inside of the tower, and wrapped it, a big gift. A very big gift. I've created treasure hunts for big ticket items like the Gator; I've filled an enormous box with rocks and then taped the small gift (an iPod) to the top of the box -- so the receiver would understand that it was a BIG gift! (And of course, half of it for my kids has always been about the wrapped boxes the weeks before Christmas. The "I have better presents and MORE presents than you." I have come up with little devious plans like a number system (instead of names on the packages.) Though last year I forgot which was which! Ooops! I would listen to them talk. Maddie would say if Hallie is one, then I must be two, and Charlie would be three. But if I was trying to be tricky, then Charlie would be one and Hallie would be three, but Maddie would always be two. (She was right!) This year I put their names on their packages, but once the grumbling started, the pointing out of inequities in number of boxes and sizes, I told them that I switched names this year. So Maddie could be Charlie, or Hallie could be Maddie or ... well, you get the gist.

This is a total lie. Their actual names are on the boxes, but the doubt has already been formed. Maddie told me this morning, while perusing the rather small array of packages, that I am just cruel.

I seem to be a little behind this year (though the house is clean, decorated and my food shopping is all done.) But I have very little for stockings, and that is usually the one thing I enjoy shopping for. The stumbling across perfect little items to tuck into the stocking, something small, not always cheap, to go along with the filler of candy. I usually stock up on the candy end of things at Target, so I hit that yesterday. The place was wiped out. There were so many shelves that were empty, and the Christmas candy aisles were threadbare. I was a little taken aback, and so I stood there for a moment, observing. There were people pushing carts aimlessly, in search of something to put into them. There was very little joy to behold. For this Christmas shopping to fill stockings and provide presents is NOT a joyful event. It just isn't.

I was in the mens section, looking, looking, looking for SOMEthing. Anything. There was this display of Christmas boxer shorts, so I went to look. There were about 11 boxes of Small, triple packed underwear sets. They had lights, or reindeer. They were cute. Overpriced. And Small. Oh, wait, I found a XXL box. Oh well.

I then wandered across the aisle and looked at tights. All of the Mediums were gone. There were lots and lots and lots of Smalls. Oh, and a few XL's. I hope the retailers are taking stock of this. There aren't that many small people out there anymore! Then I glanced over and saw people looking at the men's Christmas underwear. Like me, they examined each box, only to discover they were all Small. And I saw them get excited when they spotted the XXL, then took it out of the box (like I had done with both the small and those) only to discover that XXL is like ridiculously large. And ditto on the smalls. I almost told the next person. But isn't that what we were all there for? The hunt? For one small moment there was hope that you could fill a stocking with some overpriced kitschy underwear for your loved one. Then it was over, and you moved on. Ho ho ho.

Peter likes smarties in his stocking. There was only ONE package of smarties. One. I didn't even realize that smarties were traditional holiday fare! My biggest thing this year is not to buy something for the sake of buying something. And for the most part, I have done this. I looked at some small flashlight for a few minutes, before putting it back with the knowledge that I have purchased Peter countless flashlights over the years to fill his stocking. We like never lose power. We don't go camping that often. Our current cache of flashlight greatly exceeds our needs! He doesn't need a flashlight. He doesn't really NEED anything. What a lovely problem to have. Right?

Sigh. I always go through the same thing, this time of year, every year. There is not enough. Not enough. But not enough what? Enough stuff that no one really needs? How did we get caught up in this? I don't remember, as a kid, that the quantity meant as much as the quality -- or what you wanted. The hardest thing for my kids is coming up with wants. Bravo to us, as parents, for providing them with their every want and need. But it leaves a bit of a void for Christmas shopping!

One other thing I did not do this year is shop very much. I usually go out with friends a couple of times, with my sister. But this year I have hardly done that at all. Maybe it is a good thing that I am finally accepting what I keep saying: they don't NEED anything, and there is no point in buying to provide things under the tree. In my mind I am always saying that. I am always saying that to them too. But I still have that need to try to outdo myself. I think that is too hard, at this point!

The bottom line is, it will be all over soon, regardless of what is purchased. It is one day, a blip on the calendar, and yet we give it so much importance. To what end, I ask? To what end?

I just don't know. I am still working it out!

Trader Joes

2011-12-15T10:29:00.000-05:00

One thing I have enjoyed about Maddie being so close (and yet so far!) at college, is the opportunity to go to Trader Joe's. Because she comes home frequently enough for me to hit the store several times a month, it has opened up new doors for me, in terms of how I food shop.

Living in such isolation (well it sounds good!) I am stuck with very limited choices in where to obtain food. While summers provide ample opportunity between my own garden, my CSA and other local farm options, once the gardens have closed up shop, I am pretty much left with sub-par food choices at the local supermarket. I have had to drive for food for years, and I am okay with that, because I have never really known nothing else. But this Trader Joe's accessibility has been lovely.

Except for a few things.

For one, you can't go there on Fridays. There is no place to park and the place is mobbed. I mean, half the time Fridays is the day I go, but you have to get there early and the whole experience downgrades exponentially with every passing hour. I will say this, and I will mean it: People in that part of the world are mean and sucky. (I also want to say that the people who work at Trader Joe's are wonderful, down to earth and friendly, and are even starting to recognize me. The customers, however, are an entirely different story.)

After I dropped Maddie off at school on Monday morning, I proceeded south-bound on 128 to the Trader Joe's. It was traffic mayhem, and as I sat at a light and watched a sea of humanity pass me by, I thought, I don't care how wonderful the shopping is, I could NOT live here. Not even for a little while. I found a parking spot easily and grabbed a cart and began my shopping. I try to park my cart in obscure little spots and then run around and get what I need, because traffic jams with carts is fairly common. (Like the woman in front of the cheese who kept her cart in front of her and then looked at everything to her left, therefore basically taking up the entire cheese display. Rude.

As I stood before the cereals in search of a certain one, this gray-haired lady was near the flowers having a bit of a melt down and screaming loudly IS THERE ANYONE TO HELP ME? She "looked" ahem "normal," but her actions indicated otherwise. It was very distracting and I finally found what I was looking for and whizzed off to another section. But it's not a very big store, and it seemed she was stalking me. Or stalking my space. I kept wondering why I was letting it all get to me -- I should be delighted to be there, period. There was a woman with two children who was letting them run around and she thought they were amusing.

Let's just say, I did not.

I am leap years away from shopping with small children, but I have been there. And I would not have let my children do that shit, because it is annoying, unnecessary and just plain RUDE! Oops, the moronic mom smiled at me as her toddler rammed her cart into me. So sorry. As my thoughts ran along the lines of FUCK YOU LADY AND THE CART YOU RODE IN ON, I tried to get a grip. What was this energy here? Why was I allowing myself to get caught up in it?

I had to go to the bathroom, so I parked my cart and did my business, and when I returned, I left my cart where it was, off the beaten path and in no one's way, and continued my shopping. There was an employee near my cart as I approached with an armful of goods, and she said, Oh, is this your cart? I thought it was abandoned.

Really? Do people abandon carts? What the hell is that? So I rescued my cart and went off to the dairy section, where I was clearly in the way of this woman who only wanted to look at the section of dairy that I was standing in. I kept moving my cart, and moving myself to accomodate her, but that didn't seem to make her happy.

I just don't fit in. I don't know how to be ruthless and bitchy (well of course I do, I am a woman) but that isn't my natural way. I want to smile and be accomodating and friendly and share the space with one and all, and just buy my food and be on my way. But there is a territorial bent to the whole experience -- almost as though they recognize me as a stranger. Not from these here parts.

Then as I was getting back onto 128 to head home, there was only one car coming towards me, in the right hand lane. And they refused to move over to the wide open left hand lane. Why? Why do people just ignore common courtesies? So once again, I punched my accelerator with the intent to jam my large vehicle right into their Mercede ass. NEGATIVE ENERGY city! Geesh. The place is toxic!

Clearly I had a chip on my shoulder that day -- because you attract what you put out there. I can't blame it on Massachusetts I suppose. The state can't really affect my state, can it?

Not so sure!

Weird but true

2011-11-14T11:01:00.001-05:00

When I am in the middle of writing a novel, I find it most helpful to tape picture of my characters around my desk. It makes them feel more real and it also makes it easier to remember their physical appearances in the beginning, before they become full-bore people in my life.

I come across these characters in magazines or I will attribute their looks to say a movie star and then kind of morph them from that. But Walter, Walter was in a magazine, in some ad I guess, because he's not a face I've ever seen before or since. But the moment I turned the page and saw him, I knew it was Walter.

Walter has been on my wall for quite a few years now. This particular book has been slower than others I have written (or am still in the process of writing) to flesh out and quite frankly, I have gotten to a certain point and had no idea where to go. So I stopped. But as of the past month or so, I have been going gangbusters with it, and once again Walter is a part of my daily life.

I love Walter -- he is a rich character and it has been challenging to write from a perspective of an older man. Walter spans in age in my story from about 40 to his late 60s, and the story also includes his wife who is 20 years his junior. It also includes another character who is 20 years the junior of his wife (I don't come up with this stuff, it wants to be what it wants to be!) I have struggled with the second story line because I am able to put myself in that position and the question would I want to be with someone 20 years younger than myself is a most resounding no! And then I wonder if it is believable. And of course that invites questions and then I question myself and wonder what the hell am I doing writing a book on this bizarre topic anyway?

But this book wants to be written. For one, it is the sweetest experience thus far in that it is not all-inclusive. I don't have to sit down and write and write and write and write and then write some more because I am worried I will forget. There is nothing frenetic about this particular process. It is a book that knows that it mellows with age (and I am not going to do a fine wine metaphor here because that is so B O R I N G.) I can sit down for a few hours and write. And it flows. And then I can get up and go do something else and when I sit back down again, be it a few hours later or even a few days later, it flows again, seamlessly. And while the characters are in my head, and they often talk to me, they only do so when beckoned. It's been a lovely experience. But that is not all.

The day I was seriously questioning raising the age of the young college student that my 40+ heroine was not only dating, but was like in love with, I was shopping at a local market and this young (college age) guy was all over me. At first I was wondering what is his problem was ... how many times was he going to accidently bump into me in the aisles? How many times was he going to ask me if I needed any help. How many times was he going to try to catch my eye? Then it hit me! This was just a message from the universe to let me know that all is possible. Now, I was not at all attracted to the kid, don't get me wrong, but the message was that he COULD be with me. That of course did not come at the time, but when he gave me this bizarre look when he handed me my bag and brushed my fingers with his, I walked out of there somewhat dumbfounded. But by the time I had climbed into my car I got it. And laughed out loud.

So I scurried home and let Cooper (I don't like the name either, but for some reason that is his name) stay his age. But then ANOTHER character jumped into the fray, and so help me god I was ready to quit. I stepped back and thought, what is this story about and why does it need to be told? It's ridiculous. It is complicated and hard to remember what is going on when and how and what and there is a brain tumor and if you think it sounds like a soap opera, well, you ought to have it in your head!

But then I went to a party. The hostess is in my book club and of course I knew her. But I had never met her husband. I did, however know, that her husband is 18 years older than her. No, the book has nothing to do with her, it was well under progress by the time I met her. But I thought it was interesting, just another one of those "coincidences" you run into ... all the time! So I had that on the back burner, where it has been simmering (I think I need to have a long chat with the both of them for perspective, and how nice of the universe to provide that, huh?) but I am not there yet ... I am still fleshing out the last major character and further plot lines and flashbacks and journals that are kicking my butt. When all of a sudden her husband came up to me and introduced himself and my mouth dropped open and ... HE WAS FUCKING WALTER. I am serious, almost the spitting image. I was beyond dumbfounded, I could hardly speak. I shook his hand and I swear to god, it was like meeting Walter in the flesh. He had the same .... he was Walter, plain and simple. He was who Walter would be if he was actually alive and well, at that moment in time it felt like that was the case.

I was a bit freaked. And then I felt like I was at Walter and Margie's house as a spectator. How many times had Margie talked about having had no friends other than Walter's? (Margie is the heroine in the book if you didn't pick that up.) The hostess of this party had invited the book club because she too had commented that she almost exclusively hangs out with her husband's friends.

It was a weird night. But don't worry universe, I totally got it. No need to give me further assistance. In fact, I am not sure I could take anything more!

So now I must go join Walter and the gang before another character comes to life!!!

P.S. I always listen to music when I write and there is always one artist that seems to put me in the right groove ... and I will essentially listen to the same album over and over and over. Once I have done this, that particular album can never be listened to again (for obvious reasons!) Such over-saturation needs to be applied to an artist that I am not madly in love with. I have been seeking that particular artist and for three days in a row, every time I got in the car a song by Lady Antebellum was playing. Same song. Sometimes it would play twice. No, seriously. So I have my new list of songs ... and they are of course, perfect. The universe is so helpful!!!

Born to drive

2011-10-27T09:53:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I completed a milestone, and yet, I was in the background. The milestone was Charlie going to get his license, but for me it was the last child I would ever have to take to the DMV!

It is such a great place to people watch. There were loads of mothers and the occasional father, with their about to be licensed kids, and we sit on the chairs and wait. We stand in line over and over, then return to our seats to wait. We have a very small purpose -- we have to of course drive with them there; we have to be there to stand in as the "adult," but we're really not all that needed. They take the written test while we sit and wait. Then they too have to wait until their designated driving test time nears, and then the poor parents are discarded once again, we must vacate the car and let a perfect stranger drive off with them. And we wait.

When Hallie went for her license, we drove down to Concord and stood in line (and waited of course) only to discover that we didn't have a heating bill. Yes, that is what I said. We needed to have some proof that she lived in the actual residence that she said she did. They said a heating bill would work. A HEATING BILL! We had to drive home and find some stupid heating bill, and then, because we were so disgusted with Concord, we drove (I actually drove this time because this was no longer fun and games, but serious business, and speed limits could not be adhered to in order to get this job done!) like mad up to Lebanon. Where she had time to put in her written test; but alas, they were closing and she was unable to get her driving test in. OH MY GAWD.

Then we drove back up there the next morning and she FINALLY got her license. I told everyone I knew, don't go to the DMV without your heating bill. Not any of them that I can recall ever had any use for a heating bill. But they had them!

Then Maddie and I went down to Concord, (with a heating bill of course) and she passed her driver's test, only to discover that there were no driving times available that day. But our friendly DMV assistant kept at it, and there was an available time in Manchester. Of course, Maddie didn't want to drive in Manchester (they all have heard stories from friends who have gone to this DMV or that DMV and it is the BEST DMV to go to!) As far as I am concerned, all of my kids were highly ready to get their licenses by the time I brought them to the DMV. I have seen kids who didn't know their right from their left get their license -- I wasn't too worried about their passing. And Concord is the CLOSEST and is far more interesting to people watch than some smaller office. (Though they are all closing due to budget cuts, according to one woman I talked to.)

Anyway, she panicked that she had never driven in Manchester, so we went down and I had her drive what I suspected would be the exact route she would take (and it was) and after several healthy doses of waiting, she finally had her license.

Charlie was the most eager of all of them to get his license. So eager, in fact, that he convinced the driver's ed. teacher to change the date of the class so he could get his license as close to his birthday as possible. He has been driving since he was five-years-old. This is not even an exaggeration -- says the mother who watched her near toddler son drive around and around and around in the driveway why the father said it was fine. Fine! He used to go to to work with Peter and drive around in an old pick-up truck on his back lot by the hour. The kid loves to drive. It was common for there to be regular activity in the driveway on any given day. One car or the other would go by; then the Bobcat would start up and he'd be driving that around; then the Gator, then back to one of the vehicles. I remember Hallie getting so disgusted at the amount of gas he was using driving around in the driveway!

When I climbed out of the car to let the driving guy in, he asked me if I thought Charlie was ready. I told him that he was born ready. Oh really, the man said. I am not even kidding, I said, as I watched as Charlie confidently told the man to climb on in. There was never even the slightest doubt in my mind that he would get his license. Even as we watched, minutes before his own test, a girl not pass and slam into the passenger side of her car and ignore her mother (it is always the mother's fault, is it not?)

The entire experience was probably the easiest out of the three. Walked in, stood in a short line (they never looked at the heating bill, or in this case this time, the tax bill) he did his eye test, then his written, and back in line to find that the next available driving time was 1:40. It was then 12:30 -- time for lunch! We went to lunch, we were back in time; he took his test, he came back in, he got his license. I was in the dressing room at L.L. Bean by 3:00. Easy peasy.

The hardest part is that he has the longest drive of the three. Hallie and Maddie drove literally five minutes down the road to school. If there was bad weather, I drove them. There was a forecast of snow for today (which did not pan out, thank heavens) and Peter was quite insistent that he didn't want Charlie to drive his truck with the bald tires in snow. I thought to myself that it's a tough time to get your license -- right before snow season. Will I ever want him to drive that distance in a lot of snow?

I am still waiting for him to text that he has arrived at school on his maiden voyage -- he drove to the gas station and the store last night, but this is really the first "big" trip on his own. You can tell he is number three because I didn't actually notice the exact time he left -- so I can't really watch the clock and wonder. But he will be fine.

As for me, I am somewhat torn between throwing a huge party or just absorbing this last milestone on my own, quietly. It seems mind blowing that I never HAVE to drive a child to school again. Seriously ... mind blowing. We have been juggling the art of getting Charlie to one school or another (all very far away) since he was in fifth grade. I could climb into my own car right now and not have to be back at a certain time to pick him up! I guess we both picked up a little freedom at the DMV yesterday! Thank Gawd for the heating (tax) bill!

It's not supposed to be work!@

2011-10-18T11:08:00.000-04:00

I am such a disorganized person -- and truthfully, that rarely bothers me. But then again, I am NOT really disorganized in most things. Just when I write. I am very careless and lackadaisical when writing, because it seems when I am in the middle of a book; it would be impossible to forget anything.

I have three novels that are in various states of flux. One is completely written but I am incapable of believing that or something, so I leave that one in the belief it needs more. Then there is another one probably more than halfway written, and that one grabs me from time to time. But this one I am working on now has been the most compelling as of late. The characters have not flooded my brain, as they have a tendency to do. But instead, they are on the periphery, waiting. They are waiting for me to finish their story. They are so patient too ... and I have come to the realization that it is because those characters are patient themselves.

I sat down this morning to write where I left off yesterday. But it doesn't feel right (write) and because I am clearly in the mood to write, I am writing here instead. Somewhere there is a notebook with my notes on this novel. I just can't find them. There is a lot of confusion if I lose track -- as I am now going to start going back in time. But I need to pick a timeframe and that just puts me off. I don't do outlines, I just jot down notes and let the book flow. But this one has never been like that. It has asked more from me right from the beginning.

The premise is hard for me too. I am not sure where it came from, or why it even needs to be written, but I struggle with scenes (of the sexual nature for starters) between the main female character and one of the main male characters, who is 20 years her junior. I have no business putting myself in the situation, because it is not about me, but still. There is such a weirdness about it -- like really, it doesn't feel right. And yet, why is it okay when older men hook up with women so much younger? Why does that not seem predatory and wrong? I guess that is part of the main theme of the book -- the coming to terms with that actual question. (Why I am writing about it really confuses me, I must admit! It certainly doesn't come from experience. But that is the way such things happen I guess. They sort of kind of be what they want to be!)

But my frustration right now is that I can't find this notebook that contains all my notes. I just flipped through six -- and they were all something I am working on. But not this one. Which makes me wonder, am I supposed to be re-thinking it?

I feel like the girl in the picture above. In fact, that is exactly what I did when I realized I wasn't going to be able to just fly through and type like a maniac this morning. Sigh.

I can't even find a fancy new notebook to use. Which may mean I have to clean my office. GAH!

A picture is worth a thousand words (though of course I added those too!)

2011-10-16T13:11:00.001-04:00

I come from a family of photographers. To be one, you have to have an eye. Or have some creative juice flowing through your veins. When I was a child, my father would take pictures of us, telling us to lay on the floor with our heads together, or do something -- ANYthing -- other than pose. To this day he will not pose for a picture.

I go through stages. There are times when months will pass without my touching my camera. And then I will pick it up and take pictures for just as many months as I did not. I have gone through a LOT of cameras -- mostly because I was so drawn to the little ones you could throw into a pocketbook or backpack with ease. But, as I have discovered through experience, those cameras do not last when used on an almost daily basis. I called once to complain that my third camera had died, and the person on the other end was aghast at how many pictures I was taking with it, along with an expectation that it was up to it. Apparently those cameras are made for the photographer who takes it out for vacations and the occasional sunset. Oh, and they hate the beach!

I have photoshop, which is a very challenging program -- if only because it is SO easy to ruin a perfectly good picture! (I guess the challenge lies in not overprocessing!)

Here, you can see I did not heed such advice, and went a little nuts. But I don't worry about color so much (or even light) when taking a picture any more, because those things are easily dealt with.

This picture was taken with a telephoto lens halfway across the (albeit narrow) part of the lake while I was sitting on my dock.

This photo is the same as above, with a little tweaking. First off, fall foliage in the first one was dull. No problem! Back in the day when you had only natural light to make a great photo, the upper picture would have seemed acceptable. But there is so much altering to pictures going on these days, there is no such thing as real -- all memorex!

Sometimes I just prefer a natural photo. This one is untouched and I find it very calming. There would be no need to have the browns be browner. I find this very calming in its simplicity.

I am not sure who took the above. Over the weekend, there were photographers everywhere! Maddie, Charlie, my nephew Zach, my sister and myself. Snap, snap, snap! My guess would be that this was Maddie's doing -- she has an eye for the unusual. I think I probably would have tried to get the entire flower in -- but she saw it this way, and it totally works.

The kids also know when a picture is going to be fun. I was on the dock while they were on the public dock, and Maddie called to me to take pictures of their action. It is always fun to fly through the air, and I love how Charlie is pointing at her.

Here, Zach looks almost as though he is leap frogging Maddie!

I took lots of pictures of the kids out on the boat and kneeboarding -- but I thought this one captured it best. Thumbs up! I often wonder if these children have ANY idea, whatsoever, how lucky they are. I am guessing the answer is no. Charlie has been driving a boat since he was a little kid -- to him it just is. Now this picture would benefit from some tweaking to give the background a lift in color. Oh well.

At first I was going to crop this so Zach was the only subject in the frame, but then I realized that the car gave the added benefit of the motion of speed. Both Maddie and Charlie were using my camera, so I am not sure who the official photographer is. But good job!

Here is a photoshopped rendition of one of the above photos. (You can spend hours and hours playing in that venue, believe me!) I just don't know what to do with everything! My walls are full of pictures already, so I thought this would be a fun way to bring some out of hiding.

P.S. Click on any of the above photos to get a larger, cleaner version!

24 Things

2011-10-02T16:33:00.000-04:00

I was going to begin this thing on October 1 called 24 Things. Each day, for 24 days, I was to remove one thing from my house -- give it away, sell it or throw it away -- in order to create space for creativity to flow. Space.

In the few days leading up to October 1st, I have been on a thing frenzy. And not disposing of, but obtaining of.

This is who I am. If even **I** tell myself that I am going to do something, I do the opposite. I can NOT be told what to do -- even by myself -- without a negative reaction! It is as though I unleashed some purchasemaniac within me -- and I just want to BUY BUy Buy buy. So wrong.

It is October 2 and I have only bought things because the rules are you have to purge one thing -- and NOT purchase ANYthing for 24 days. Clearly I do not like rules. Even self-imposed ones.

Such amazing and total self-destruction of my own potential goals. The rule not to purchase stuff has rekindled a complete and total love of stuff. I want stuff. Pretty stuff. STUFF and things. GIVE THEM TO ME. NOW!

Yeah, I know.

It kind of freaks me out too.

Epiphany. (not a good one!)

Need.

Greed.

Confusion.

Self-loathing.

Wonder.

Anxiety.

Churning stomach.

Mind blowing.

Wrong.

Unfortunate.

Evasive.

Pathetic.

Astonishing.

Unexpected.

Amazing.

Foolish.

Pitiful.

Upsetting.

Disappointing.

Self-discovery.

Not that big of a deal.

Recoverable.

Faddish.

I may not have begun to purge 24 things. But these are my 24 words to describe this. Now as Scarlett would say, Tomorrow is another day!

This is a story about books!

2011-09-26T13:42:00.000-04:00

This is a post about books.   I went to Amazon.com to check on their daily kindle deal, and the same as it has been the past few times I've gone, the book didn't appeal to me. But today I asked, why does it not seem like a book you would read?

It is called Brain Rules, and it is written by a doctor who is a molecular biologist who studies the brain. Why wouldn't that interest me? So, I decided that regardless of the topic, I am going to download the Kindle deal of the day, and read them. This one cost $1.49 and well. It would have to be pretty bad not to be worth that amount!

I don't know what my favorite genre is, not really. When I first started to read, you would get those things from school where you could order all of these books, and I would check ALL of them! They all seemed so fascinating! Since they were relatively cheap, my mother always said yes. To ALL of them! I would read with delicious delight the descriptions of the books, and I would add up the cost, get money from my mother, cut out the small order form, and then take it to school the next day. And then I would wait. Oh, those things took so long to come in! I used to drive the teacher nuts, is the book order coming in today?

When I was old enough to ride my bike to town, Tracy McDonald and I would walk into the young adult room at the library, and I swear, I would swoon! Such a sacred place. I can still picture the row of Happy Hollister books, in the bookshelf to the far left corner. Oh. There was nothing as exciting as that day the librarian led me to them. Tracy, who was older than me, had already read them, and had gone on and on about how much I would like them. Oh, and how! The only sad thing was that I went through them so quickly. And they were an old series, with a dead author. It was quite disappointing. I remember asking the librarian if there would be any more. And she shook her head. I am sorry, but no. But then I went on to Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew. And then when I was in sixth grade, I read a naughty book. I have always been a voracious reader, and one Sunday afternoon I was bored and in the downstairs TV room. There were bookshelves filled with "old people's" books, that I'd never really examined. I indiscriminately pulled one from the shelf and started to read. Soon, I had closed the door to the room, because I didn't want anyone to see me reading it. Then, when the babysitter started sleeping with the father, I hid behind the green chair! My greatest fear is that my mother or father would take THE BOOK AWAY FROM ME. And thus grew a new passion ... reading smut in the living room behind the green chair. Ahhhhh. But alas, my mother didn't have a lot of smut, just a small collection. So then, I started to read the classics, which my father had these old versions of, and we were told not to touch them. (I figured they had to have some serious stuff in there if I wasn't to go near them.) Well, let's face it, Mrs. Haversham rotting in her wedding dress was creepy. Not my great expectations of sex in a closet or whatever the hell I was reading. But interesting.

That led to a very early interest in romances.    Danielle Steele, Kathleen Woodiweiis, anything that had a picture of a big strapping man with his muscles popping out of his shirt and the poor woman clasped in his big strong grasp. Bodice rippers is what my friend called them. We read those through high school, but let me tell you, I read them way earlier than I should have! We didn't have google back then, but I figured out what a blow job was through wily research. "DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT A BLOW JOB IS?" I asked anyone around. Anyone. Finally Barb, the older sister of a friend, filled me in. I of course, did not believe her. First of all, did she not hear me, I said BLOW job. There was no blowing in her description, none at all. We discussed this enough to make her doubt her own knowledge! HAHAHAHA.   Finally, she went out and asked her mother. She came back to the bedroom to report that she did have it right, and she was now grounded for the weekend.

Sorry, Barb. My life would have been ever so much easier with google!

Books can certainly have an impact on your life! I remember reading The Yearling. I was in junior high, and I know this because I was home alone with my brother and sister, theoretically babysitting them. But I was really in my bed, all cozied up, with my book. I was being interrupted, so I pulled out the trundle bed and had them curl up near me. My brother had our cat Chippy in bed with him. I had reached the part where the deer needs to be shot, and I was sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. At that moment, the cat started to dry heave and my brother tossed him at me. Just in time for it to expel a skull of a chipmunk all over my chest.   You can't make this stuff up you know, it wouldn't make sense!

My parents came rushing upstairs and into the bedroom where I was still sobbing over both the deer and the trauma of having a skull first on me, and then in my bed.

And then there was Eric. By Doris Lund. This is not a very long book, but it just so happened to be the ONLY book I brought with me on a spontaneous trip to Newfoundland. That is how my parents traveled. They would keep it all a secret and then wake us up in the middle of the night and tell us we were going somewhere. I innocently grabbed the ONE book that I happened to be reading, and off we went. To the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. I of course, finished the book in no time, but not without sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. You see, Eric had leukemia and he died. And he died about 14 times for me, because it was the ONLY book I had so I just kept re-reading it. And re-living the traumatic end! Every person in that car remembers that book!

Right now I am reading on my iPad a novel, and a book about weather shamanism. And when I am in the car, I am listening to a Lisa Gardner detective/murder/mystery type series. Sometimes it is confusing to remember what is going on, but I have always had multiple books going. That trip taught me to keep any number of books in the car in the event of such a thing ever happening, and whenever I was in the car, I would read those books, while still reading another book before bed.

I have a tendency to devour an author and then criticize him or her after ten or so books. I will accuse then of being formulaic and repetitive, and I will wonder why I liked the earlier books so much! I know this is not fair, to the authors anyway, but I can't help myself. I am currently doing this with Lisa Gardner. I just downloaded a third book by her today. Even when I said to myself I should break it up with another author. Oh well.

What started this was the Kindle deal of the day. Apparently, this is how my brain works! I'll let you know if I am right!

There is this place ...

2011-09-13T09:21:00.000-04:00

When I drive to Charlie's school several times a day, I have to drive through a small Main Street of a town that is really failing. Not that it has ever been a burgeoning example of prosperity -- but it has gotten much, much worse in the few years I have been passing through on a regular basis. Gone are the small shops, replaced by soaped up windows and FOR RENT signs. On the main portion of the street, the only businesses that are actually in business are two banks, a donut shop, a furniture store and an auctioneers store front. Oh, and two gas stations, one a Cumberland Farms and the other that has the cheapest gas but the people that hang around it are too creepy to imagine ever stopping there. (I do stop from time to time at the Cumberland Farms, as their gas is the next cheapest, but let's just say I would rather not.)

I stopped at the grocery store that is at the edge of this town last night and because I had been noticing the decline overall, I was struck by the clientele in the store, and walking into it. There is a high percentage of teenage mothers and even teenage fathers, filling up their carts with the most disgusting junk food, with these unhealthy looking children kind of just there. They have no life, no spark. None of them do. It was hard to see.

Then as we were walking out, I saw this young mother and her little boy walking towards us. The mother had a cigarette and she was tugging the little boy along as she looked for a place to store the cigarette while she was in the store. As I was watching what she was doing, the little boy caught my eye and he just stared at me. He made me catch my breath. He was extremely pale with huge shadows underneath his big blue eyes. He too, was devoid of the life spark that so often fills small children, and it took all I could do not to scoop him up and take him home with me.

"Why do you look like that?" Charlie asked, as we continued towards the car.

"Like what?" I asked him.

"You look so sad."

I motioned toward the little boy, who was still watching me. "He just made me sad."

Charlie wondered if it was because he reminded me of him and if it made me sad that he was so grown up now. I had to laugh at that one. "No," I said with great vehemence, "that little boy did not remind me of you at all." And that was because my little boy had always been full of life. He may have been screaming and yelling and demanding my life's blood from me. But he never, ever, ever had those eyes.

That was yesterday evening, and I can't shake those eyes. That face. And I wondered. If I went up to that mother and said to her that I would help her -- that I would take that little boy and watch him so that she could go to school, would she accept it? Or is she too far gone, like the rest of that town, and committed to sitting on the stoop of their dilapidated apartment buildings, smoking and sitting next to their lifeless children?

Such hopelessness and decay, 15 minutes from my own house. Why do the rich people go to Africa? I don't get it. I don't mean to take away from the African people -- but what about our own? Born Americans, starving for hope in a small town, which has so many police cars that one only has to imagine how much trouble goes down there. (It was in fact on the news last year when a couple was arrested for cooking heroin in a building across from the high school.) It's not a good place.

But how do you get away from it? Every time I drive through I am treated with a snapshot of their lives that makes my heart ache. A young girl, walking towards the high school, covered in tattoos, earrings all over, no book in her hand. No backpack. She is just showing up. Going through the motions.

Or the woman in the doorway, obviously just out of bed, her hair all over the place, cigarette dangling from her lips, as her young daughter waits for the bus. And I look at this girl. Messy hair. Dirty clothes. That empty face.

The group of teenage boys who are clearly not going to school that day, riding around on their skateboards. Smoking. Their pants falling down to their knees, their dirty hair sticky in their faces. They are, of course, going to be magnetically attracted to their like, and they are going to have sex, and they are going to have babies who will carry those lifeless faces around until they too skip high school, because what is the point? WHAT IS THE POINT?

The town itself is addressing its problems by adding more cops. The cops are tough too. There are several stationed around and they stand with no smiles on their faces. As I often go by in a convertible jeep, I will smile or try to engage them into some type of human contact. Nope. This morning I wanted to yell WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO OFFICER FRIENDLY YOU DICKHEAD. But I thought that might not be smart. He was standing in front of the high school, lights on, in a stance of authority. I have no idea what he is supposed to be doing -- he pays no attention to traffic or human, for that matter. He just stands there. I guess he is supposed to be scary. Personally, I think he has it all wrong. I think he needs to be reaching out; putting on a face of humanity. Not being a dickhead.

But I am sure he spends his days and nights arresting young kids for drugs and what have you, and probably countless domestic disputes. He is hardened, as are the ones he polices.

It is a very sad place and makes me wonder how many other places around the country are in the same predicament. It is really too much, sometimes, to see the great disparity in wealth and lifestyle. From a small New England college where parents would do anything for their child; to a small New England town where the parents don't know what to do for their child, because nothing was ever done for them. It is too much, I tell you.

But if I ever see that boy again, I will reach out to his mother. There is no way I could walk away again. I am not even sure how I did it last night.

Bounty and Loss

2011-09-07T14:14:00.000-04:00

Everywhere I look there seems to be bounty. My garden is swelling with cucumbers, melons and tomatoes, basil plants are falling over in their abundance and the kale looks as though it is vying to be most beautiful vegetable in the garden!

There is a local farmstand I like to go to, where they have organic veggies, and their tomatoes are over the top beautiful. They lay them out upside down on a table, and they are just a palette to feast your eyes upon! I go everyday just to visit them! (Well, and to purchase ten pounds or so to add to my own supply for sauce.) This is harvest time and the veggies are littering gardens everywhere. I throw in fresh garlic, peppers and onions into the sauce and inhale deeply. Pure heaven. My goal is not to buy any sauce -- I am filling the freezer! I also have blanched and frozen a lot of green beans and will also do that with corn. Why suffer through the supermarket stuff when you can get it now? I think I am going to need a bigger freezer.

Or am I?

Maddie has gone off to college and there is one less mouth to feed. And Charlie claims that once he has his license he is going to stay at school all the time. So will it be sauce for two?

It has been a whirlwind week with summer coming to an abrupt halt with a cold rain that has settled into the area for days (the next tropical storm named Lee, I guess) and a drive to Beverly, Mass. on Sunday to drop off Maddie, and then off to Tilton the following day to get Charlie all set at his school, and then a trip a little further on into Belmont for his driver's ed. class. And then an unplanned trip to Beverly, Mass. yesterday to visit with Maddie, who has never really liked to be away from home, but who is bravely enduring the trials of being a freshman in a forced triple room with a potential bitch of a roommate (and one nice one, thank heavens!) and settling herself into a completely new life. She is trying very hard and I had told her from the start; if she needed me, I would be there.

So after six hours in the car yesterday, I had to drive 45 minutes in the rain and dark to pick up Charlie, and I thought, wow, this is a lot. This is tiring and I am not used to it. And yet, in a few months he will have his license and I will be free? (Yeah, something tells me not to break out the champagne yet!)

It is such a bone-gnawing tiredness that has settled in, and I am, as usual, trying to fight it. But it is well deserved (it is a lot of driving and big changes like seeing your daughter go to college are big emotional upheavals) and then back to the worry of a child with a new license driving around. I just want to climb into a cocoon and curl up for a few months!

I tried to catch up on sleep after I drove Charlie to school this morning, but then I remembered I had to pick up my CSA bounty -- and that of course led me to track down more food so I could cook. Because that is an excellent thing to do when you are tired, right?!!!! While I admit the smell of sauce simmering on the back burner is delightful, I still have to deal with the rest of the food. Shall I blanch and freeze the beans and corn, or have them for dinner (the latter would certainly be easier! But I am quite sick of both items, and there is still corn chowder in the fridge we could have for dinner.) The garden is also sodden with this rain and I noticed a few out of control cucumbers when I went out earlier to get some basil for the sauce. And I still have yet to master when a cantaloupe or watermelon are done ... so are they out there rotting or not? They still seem awfully heavy, but I just don't know. The last two watermelons were overdone, but the others out there don't seem ready either. There is nothing more disheartening than cutting into an under-ripe or over-ripe melon. And I have googled how to tell countless times. I think it is a learned thing. Which I haven't learned!

My brain is filled with what to do with all this food that has come to fruition at the same time while my body craves rest! But if I leave the kitchen for an hour it becomes infested with fruit flies. (I read in my never-ending reading that putting a tomato into the refrigerator was like killing it! ) Well, geesh, okay. But let me tell you, fruit flies love to hover around ripe fruit. Then I had a most wonderful cantaloupe on the counter and ate some, but it was filling, but then I thought, probably putting a ripe melon into the fridge is killing it too! So when I returned later, it had been taken over by those damn little bugs. There is no time to rest! The food rots as soon as you pick it. And my obsession with eating THIS food all year round is freaking me out.

I think I have conquered the cucumber dilemma -- by freezing cucumber juice! Then I can throw that into smoothies all year round. But those cucumbers mock me with their ability to grow overnight! I am not going to be sad when the last vine dies, because seriously, it is a full time job keeping up with those cukes. I can hear them out there giggling .... let's grow as big as we can and freak Lisa out.

I think sleep deprivation makes people lose their minds. Or perhaps I should put my mind in the fridge to preserve it. Or will it kill it?

Breathing just did not get easier

2011-09-02T12:43:00.000-04:00

Okay, he did it. He finally made the move that caused me great disappointment.

No, no, I am not talking about my husband. I am talking about Obama.

He is now risking the health of American's in the name of looking the other way while corporations harm the environment. http://news.yahoo.com/obama-halts-controversial-epa-regulation-143731156.html

"A spokesman for House Speaker John Boehner, R-Ohio, had muted praise for the White House, saying that withdrawal of the smog regulation was a good first step toward removing obstacles that are blocking business growth."

It is also a bad step in removing smog from our air. Which is more important?

First off I understand that none of this is simple. And government regulations absolutely can be crippling to business. But on the other hand, giving carte blanche to businesses by not making them run their factories more energy-efficiently and cutting down on the pollution put into our air is also crippling ... to the planet. Which kinda sorta means....us.

What would happen in a perfect world is that greed would be removed from the equation and therefore companies wouldn't be concerned with making money, but instead, of making products that people need. And they would do that with regard to other things, like employees (you know, as in keeping them) and the environment. They wouldn't pollute, they wouldn't bury their cancer-causing aftershit into people's backyards and so on. But there is no perfect world, so therefore there has to be regulation. And that regulation comes from government. And the people who cry the loudest that they HATE and abhor regulation are the ones who are committing crimes of nature and don't want to be held responsible for it on ANY level.

So we ended up with a president who has been trying to master the art of compromise in order to get ANY thing done. Which of course is constantly met with cries of Obama sucks. I personally think that people, overall, suck. I certainly wouldn't be so hasty to blame the problems of the world on ONE single person. That is just ridiculous. And stupid. Which is what is basically the platform one must operate from in order to manage those that are. Both stupid and ridiculous.

"The withdrawal of the proposed EPA rule comes three days after the White House identified seven such regulations that it said would cost private business at least $1 billion each. The proposed smog standard was estimated to cost anywhere between $19 billion and $90 billion, depending on how strict it would be.

"Republican lawmakers have blamed what they see as excessive regulations backed by the Obama administration for some of the country's economic woes, and House Republicans pledged this week to try to block four environmental regulations, including the one on some pollution standards, when they return after Labor Day.

"But perhaps more than some of the other regulations under attack, the ground-level ozone standard is most closely associated with public health — something the president said he wouldn't compromise in his regulatory review. Ozone is the main ingredient in smog, which is a powerful lung irritant that occasionally forces cancellation of school recesses, and causes asthma and other lung ailments.

Criticism from environmentalists, a core Obama constituency, was swift following the White House announcement.

"The Obama administration is caving to big polluters at the expense of protecting the air we breathe," said Gene Karpinski, the president of the League of Conservation Voters. "This is a huge win for corporate polluters and huge loss for public health."

"In his statement, the president said that withdrawing the regulation did not reflect a weakening of his commitment to protecting public health and the environment.

"I will continue to stand with the hardworking men and women at the EPA as they strive every day to hold polluters accountable and protect our families from harmful pollution," he said.

So in essence, what happens is that government creates agencies to police certain sectors. The EPA is designated to regulate the environment. They then do their jobs, but then the government machine, which doesn't want to HEAR bad news, does everything in its power to avoid said bad news. So exactly how would this system EVER work, I ask. Presidents can overrule their agency recommendations, and that is what happens.

The decision mirrors one made by Obama's predecessor, President George W. Bush. EPA scientists had recommended a stricter standard to better protect public health. Bush personally intervened after hearing complaints from electric utilities and other affected industries. His EPA set a standard of 75 parts per billion, stricter than one adopted in 1997, but not as strong as federal scientists said was needed to protect public health.

The EPA under Obama proposed in January 2010 a range for the concentration of ground-level ozone allowed in the air — from 60 parts per billion to 70 parts per billion. That's about equal to a single tennis ball in an Olympic-size swimming pool full of tennis balls.

Jackson, Obama's environmental chief, , said at the time that "using the best science to strengthen these standards is a long overdue action that will help millions of Americans breathe easier and live healthier."

So if the president said that withdrawing the regulation did not reflect a weakening of his commitment to protecting public health and the environment ... then what is it, exactly?

Beckoning journey

2011-08-24T16:13:00.001-04:00

This morning I was driving home in the bright sunshine with my hair blowing all over the place (in the open Jeep) after completing one of my obligations at my CSA (Community Shared Agriculture), which means I pay a sum for a share of a garden, and then I work in the garden to help pay off that share as well. My obligation today consisted of cutting flowers and then later, kale.

After we were done with that, my friend and I went to breakfast. The weather was perfect -- sunny and yet breezy with big chunky clouds floating by in the sky. Just one of those days you are happy to be alive. But I was even happier, as I drove along, to not be working. It was quite difficult getting up at 7:00 this morning, I must admit! The kids and I have become quite lazy these past few weeks, getting up late and going to bed even later. To me, it is what summer is all about, and I love being able to go to bed and see that Charlie is watching TV and NOT having to say to him you have to go to sleep now. Because who cares! No one has to get up for anything, just do what you want to do. That freedom is really the primary focus of summer and why I have never pushed my kids to get jobs. (Though they do, because as those things work, if I WAS pushing them, they would be adverse. But since I don't really care whether or not you have a job unless you are 16 and can get yourself there, they seem to crave them, go figure!)

Anyway, I was just filled with sheer and total joy this morning that I do not work. And this from someone who loved to work. And yet, having to get up this morning reminded me how much I hate obligation of any kind right now! Freedom baby, it's all I want.

There is this workshop on advanced shamanism that popped up in my inbox yesterday. I would say out of all the things I have been drawn to -- shamanism feels right. In addition to being a lazy bones about getting up in the morning, I have also fallen off my daily angel card readings and shaman journeying. I was even given HUGE signs a few weeks ago, with first a big bear running across my path followed by a large blue heron squawking above my head moments later. My dense brain didn't pick up the connection (or the actual shove the universe or whatever you want to call it was giving me) until the heron went by. I mean, hello. Both of my power animals in all their glory, moments apart. No such thing as by accident there. OK. I got it. But then again, did I?

It changed my mood, but didn't shove me back into a journey. The last shamanic journey I took, my teacher within the upper world told me I needed to do more -- needed to make it a more regular practice. Me being me, once I am told to do something, I tend to back off! (Not to mention the whole thing freaks me out just a little bit, and I suppose if backing off is necessary, then so be it.)

So yesterday for no reason other than I thought it had been awhile, I did an angel card reading. Normally when I do this, one card will show itself, maybe two. This time six cards jumped out at me, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. I even intuitively knew which one to turn over when, and they were all over my desk. I have a tendency to draw the same cards, but this time they were ALL new cards. All new messages I'd never been given before. And so amazingly dead on I got chills. I even found myself talking to "the angels" or in my case the silent air around me, because I was so blown away. I ended up requesting information for the shamanic two-week intensive workshop. And today in my inbox, the information was there.

I read through it and then came to the cost of the program. Hmmmm. The doubts, the recriminations, the whole this is such a waste of time and we don't really have the money with two kids in school to be throwing away on mommy playing workshop get-away came flooding in, and I stopped myself and went for the cards. When I drew the Workshops and Seminars card, well I am sorry, but wouldn't YOU be a bit freaked out? This is a large deck of cards. The card reads: Attending and giving speeches is part of your spiritual path and purpose. Be open to teaching and learning.

There is no way to explain how emotional that made me feel.

"You are also guided to attend workshops to further your spiritual path and education. Enroll in classes that you feel drawn to, and ask Archangel Raphael to support everything in this endeavor, including tuition fees, transportation, lodging, time off from work, babysitting arrangements and so on. The way is clear for you to give and receive through the workshop process. Enjoy."

Alrighty then.

Forms suck

2011-08-22T13:02:00.000-04:00

I am tired of filling out forms. The first year that they start a school, well fine. Obviously the school has no information and they have to start somewhere. So I dutifully fill out color coded forms (blue for the health forms, yellow for administrative, purple for whatever else and so on) and mail them back. Maddie is starting her first year of college, and so there were forms. Lots and lots and lots of forms. They were all filled out at the beginning of summer, and well, when Charlie's forms came in, I wasn't in the mood. So I put them aside.

When the second set of forms came in, I set those aside too. Then they started emailing them to me. Which I found confusing, because I didn't want to print out those forms when I already had the hard copies (twice) laying around. So I ignored those. Then they started contacting Charlie YOU NEED YOUR FORMS TURNED IN. And he started bugging me. So I actually went to the trouble of locating the parked and dusty forms and putting them on my desk. But I didn't want to deal.

This morning he actually filled out his own forms. Well, hallelulah. Glad he wants to go to school bad enough to make that happen. His comment was that I ALWAYS fill out the forms. Yeah, well, I'm sick of them. He is going into his junior year at the same school. They have all these forms. We haven't moved, our names, birthdates and occupations are all the same. I actually believed in the paperless society. Mostly because it could actually happen. It's just stupid procedures that no one ever thinks about changing that keep this paper game going. Obviously I am doing a silent protest. NO MORE (&)_%&#()$_*(#)_$*()#_*$ FORMS.

Send me a tweet, send me an email, facebook me and check out my status (I know a school has full access) but stop sending the damn colored forms to be filled out. I know what you are going to do with them. Someone is going to briefly scan them to make sure that all the information on the form matches the information that is ALREADY ON THE COMPUTER, and then the form will go into the folder that holds the same, matching form that I filled out two years ago and the year after that.

Ask me if I have anything to update on said forms. I will say no and it will all be over with. I won't have to put pen to paper and put down the same information, no one on the other end will have to look at it, and life will go on. I assure you, it will. I won't have to buy a stamp and put it on an envelope, so that it can take a trip across towns to arrive in the inbox of someone who can then put a check by my name and won't bother me for forms anymore!

For fun, I used to fill out the forms for public school with bogus information. No one ever caught it BECAUSE NO ONE CARES ABOUT THE FORMS. It is only about getting the forms back that matters. I hate stupidity. I always have and I really can't see that changing anytime soon. I recieved two texts and a voicemail from the dentist reminding me about appointments, AS WELL AS A CARD IN THE MAIL. Hello. If you have the technology to send an automated text and voicemail, then stop sending the cards! This whole technology thing is not in addition to, it is to REPLACE outdated ways and procedures.

Honestly, is this really that hard?

Schools can send me an email or text or whatever, with a simple request. Has any of the information that you filled out on the original forms changed? Show me a scan of my original info, I will check the box that says NO and send it back INSTANTLY! Yes, that is right. I won't let it collect dust all summer, I will return it pronto.

So there are some forms that this won't apply to. I can't think of any, but I can already hear people saying so. Okay then, then just send out those forms. Even the poor doctor has to fill out the same stupid form over and over and over. Why not just the things that have changed? Why everything? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH it makes me nuts. (Obviously!)

All of the forms were supposed to be in by July 15th. Charlie was horrified. He's afraid that he won't be allowed back to school because of his mother's lazy ways. Yeah, well, the bill has been paid. It's only the forms asking me for the information they already have that are still sitting here. And they always agree with me when I mention how ridiculous it is to fill out the same forms year after year. I know, right?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.

Now I have to go get the tape so I can adhere the copies of his insurance card to the &$*(P*$(@)_*#$(&# form. It's like being in nursery school, with all the rote work and cutting and pasting. It's like every little thing ... I am just so over it. I have been filling out forms for over 20 years and I am just plain tired of the nothingness of it. The fact that in all those years nothing has changed. N O T H I N G. Not one brain has persisted to the point of exclaiming, there must be a better way! It's just so demoralizing to realize that the world really is just stuck in a form filled rut. (Though to be fair, the different colored paper wasn't around in the first ten years of form filling out. So I shouldn't say that NO ONE came up with anything new.)

I am sorry, but it's pathetic. P A T H E T I C. And I have been railing against it forever. I remember filling out the forms at the doctor's office....can she hold a cup, blah blah blah. Then the next time I would get the same form. I finally said, how come you can't just give me a copy of the form I filled out last time so I don't have to keep trying to remember if she colors within the lines? (Cuz none of this shit matters unless there are big problems with said child, and that form isn't going to be the go-to document anyway). Maybe forms don't bother anyone else. Maybe it makes people feel good to write down their names and addresses and phone numbers and email addresses over and over and over.

Personally, I just think it is stupid!

Blueberry ramblings and a pantry

2011-08-15T18:20:00.003-04:00

Ahhhh, it is raining like mad outside, and I am quite thrilled about it! I am all cozy in my sweatpants and sweatshirt (first comment from the kids: WHAT are you wearing?!) but earlier I was downright chilly in my shorts and short sleeves. Why suffer?

The windows are all open a crack to let in the sound of the rain and it is delightful. I am not sure why I am all over this rainy day. But I am. My plan hours ago was to tackle a big job (mucking out the pantry or my office) but I haven't gotten to it yet. I will. I just can't stop loving the rain. It invokes all kinds of wants -- like reading or playing board games or cooking something all gooey and comforty.

But I have been making blueberry desserts like a crazy woman and I can't watch Peter shove any more into his mouth. His lips have been blue for days. That whole moderation thing and blueberries doesn't seem to work in this family. Maddie sits down with a big bowl of them and just eats away. The blueberries have been OUT of this world and I can't wait to pick again tomorrow. Huge, plump and sweet, it almost feels like picking apples they are so amazing. My stomach has been a wreck. No sane person eats as many blueberries as we have consumed in the past two weeks. Even while I was picking them, I ate constantly. I don't think I have ever encountered such fabulous blueberries.

I still have this recipe printed out on my desk that I want to make. They are black and white cookies, but with a blueberry glaze on top. First off, black and white cookies are amazing. But with a blueberry glaze? MAMA! I made this stuff called Blueberry Boy Bait and we couldn't stop eating it. A huge pan of blueberry wonder in a soft cake like filling. Oh my. The second was blueberry bars. I thought those might last. But no.

I have to stop talking about blueberries. I must be hungry. The only way to have a BLT without the B (as I like to say) is by going out in the pouring rain and picking some lettuce. How bad do I want one?!!! Maybe I will have a BLT without the B and L!

You don't get to run into exciting blog posts like this just everyday, no sirreee. This is what you call procrastinating. I have nothing to say (clearly) but once I delve into the pantry thing, the entire kitchen (which is currently clean and neat) is going to be in total upheaval. It takes a strong (and possibly full) stomach to even begin. So instead I write a few words here, write a few words to Hallie, gaze out the window at the rain and rinse and repeat.

While on vacation on the Vineyard, I was struck with how easy it was to have a pantry with just a few things in it. I had brought down a number of meals, so all I had to do was take the ingredients and wa la. No thought, no worries. I didn't have to stand in a pantry that is overladen with way too much and hope and pray that there was some brown sugar floating around in there somewhere. Since I primarily eat fresh foods, I don't even know why the pantry is so crazy full. I am suspecting that I will have to go in there and just start heaving out stuff I don't use. It is time. I am heading there now. In fact, I am going to take a before picture. Now.

OK, pictures were taken and I started. Then Maddie and Charlie, who have been out of commission all day glued in front of the TV, decided that it was time to come into the kitchen. They blocked my entry into the pantry repeatedly by opening the fridge door, and then kept pushing my piles of this and that on the kitchen counter all over the place. In other words, they are creating chaos out of organized chaos and it is giving me a headache. Now they are fighting over cheese. Yes, that is what I said. Cheese. Screaming and yelling, give me back my cheese. They are also incapable of saying a sentence that does not contain a swear word. Cuz it makes them so cool, ya know. They are ruining my rainy day.

As I run to my shelter (my office) and hope that they leave the kitchen soon, I have to say that I have 11 coolers jammed into that pantry. I live a cooler life, pretty much year round. In the summer it is all about filling coolers to spend a day at the lake. Drinks need to be packed, lunch, dinner. It takes multiple coolers to harness all that, and let me tell you, it is one pain in the neck. Even a simple meal, like I took to the dock on Friday, takes forever. I collected lettuce from the garden, rinsed it then ran it through the salad spinner. Broke that into bite-sized pieces and put it into a baggy. Then I grilled chicken breasts, let them cool, then cut those into bite-sized pieces and put those into a container. Then I whipped up some caesar salad dressing, into a container. Peeled a dozen cucumbers and put half into a container with vinegar, and half into a container alone, because Maddie and Charlie don't like vinegar. Scrounged out some parmesan cheese from the fridge, put that into a container. All these containers must then go into a cooler. Also to be packed: A big salad bowl, plates, napkins, silverware, croutons and crackers for the cheese I threw into the cooler along with chips for the salsa, also in the cooler. It is ridiculous. Oh, and the blueberry bars, into a container. In the cooler.

After that, I dealt with the drinks cooler. Seltzer water, vodka and ice and beer. Jam that one shut, try to wrestle a few things of water between them, and there we go. Two big coolers and two bags of the other shit. That doesn't even count our bags with clothes in them. Again, I say ridiculous. We look like we are staying for a month when we go to the dock. And then, I pull it out, and it seems just so EASY. Oh look, how quickly she prepares that meal. Bullshit. Then when we get home, entire contents of coolers must be emptied. And as you can see, then I just toss them into the pantry.

But how do I weed out those coolers? There are all shapes and sizes for different occasions. They must return. Oh well.

Update: Charlie has broken a bowl and set off the fire alarm while cooking a grilled cheese sandwich. He is totally driving me bonkers and yelling at me to leave him alone. All I want to do is clean the pantry. Oh good. He just slammed the door and is out in the other room. Bye bye.

Now to be nice, he returned while I was back at it and emptied the dishwasher, took out the garbage and gave me some water when I was choking (I had to sample some things to see if they were stale and one went down the wrong slot.) I came over here to rest from the near death experience! LOL

Update: I have removed said sweatshirt because I was sweating. Charlie has taken yet another bag of garbage out. There were items in there with expiration dates of 2004. I am a hoarder! I am halfway done and panicking because I am losing steam. There are six jars of relish and four big things of white vinegar. Who knew.

Okay, here are the results, some many hours later.
BEFORE

And this is of course AFTER! (The cardboard box on the left of the wine fridge is my seaweed. That I haven't dealt with. And apparently still have not.)

Before

After

And yet another beautiful BEFORE

Before

And After

This pantry is still not done. I hadn't really thought about it until I was looking at the pictures. And this is partially why things don't get done around here. Because I stop seeing it. The floor is funny because a part of it is waiting for the cabinets to go in. Because there are no cabinets, I have been creative as I could by jamming any type of furniture I could find in there to act as a food holder. That is why they all match so nicely!!! The ultimate plan is to put in cabinets below and above. I think I might just have to put this intent into the universe, because I would gain so much not having to deal with the land of the mismatched stuff!

Tomorrow it is my office's turn.

I'd rather eat pea soup than breathe it

2011-08-08T16:21:00.000-04:00

It is so weird when you come home from being away for a few weeks -- it is as though you are only half at home and the other part of you is still there. I am still thinking that certain things will be in the "other" kitchen, and I sure as hell don't want to see that kitchen counter covered with everything that was brought home and has yet to be put away. So I don't look.

The hardest part is how thick the air is. When I first arrived on the Vineyard a few weeks ago, I had never gone through a period of time where I had been so hot for so long. I dripped sweat, day in and day out, and the only way to get cool was to jump in the lake. The day we arrived on the island, it was as though we'd changed seasons. It was cool air and the constant sea breeze. In a word, I was in heaven, and the sweat took a vacation. Every day that arrived with temps in the 70's was a gift. I rode my bike and sat on the beach and rode my bike and sat on the beach. Some days I would sit on the beach then ride my bike.

Saturday morning the humidity returned to the Vineyard -- almost as a harbinger of what was to come! Instead of sweating though, we went to the beach where the wind blew and made us almost cold. Again, it was heaven.

We woke up yesterday morning to rain. That was nice. It is hard to leave, but it's a little easier when it rains. The entire two weeks we were there, it never rained at inconvenient times. Maybe in the evening for a spell, and one hilarious night up-island where we sat on the beach and watched sunset and ate lobster rolls, that was later followed by lightening in the distance. That drew closer. And closer. Until BABOOM, the storm was there in all its fury, and it created a sandstorm out of nowhere. The kids were in the back of the Jeep screaming GO GO GO while holding their hands over their faces to block the sand (the roof was on but not the windows) and we hightailed it out of there laughing in amazement as the headlights plowed through an actual sandstorm. It was an experience not to be missed!

So we had a rather bumpy ferry ride back to the mainland, and were almost a bit happy that the weather was as sad as we were to see us go. When I climbed out of the car in N.H. at the rest area, I almost died. Holy shit, I'd forgotten that pea soup air and suffocating heat. It was as though it zapped me of my will to live. I sat in the house last night just sweating. Oh no, not again, I thought.

This morning it wasn't as bad. I spent a few hours in the garden, A.K.A. THE JUNGLE. Geesh. Leave it for two weeks and it goes wild. The tomato plants are beyond my ability to tame back into the cages. They are just going to have to commingle with the cantaloupe (that sounds kind of fun, doesn't it?) because the branches grew straight out and they are hardy as all get out. Oh, and just for old time's sake, one of those big, creepy horned worm things was on one of the tomato plants. Without thinking I tried to tear it off the stalk, but it clung like a mo'fo .... and then I got all freaked out. Eww and ick. Then during weeding I dug up a night crawler and almost fainted.

Ahhh, it is good to be home! Love to commune with the garden wildlife. NOT! I am having a seriously hard time adjusting to the air, though. It is weird.

Washington antics and Dr. Seuss

2011-07-30T16:23:00.000-04:00

The Republicans versus the Dems. The Hatfields and the McCoys. The upper class vs. the middle class. It's never gonna work.

As I wandered about today on my bike on this island of Martha's Vineyard brimming with the usual mixture of the pedigreed and the not so, it is not really that hard to understand why there is no forthcoming compromise in Washington.

There is such a sense of entitlement with these people who truly believe they are better than most; they have no concept of a sense of community or charity or even simple consideration. For one, they don't look at you. Why not? You are passing within milli-inches of them, why not a perfunctory nod or heaven forbid a mere smile? It's kind of creepy. Now obviously I can't really weed out the rich from the poor on a bike ride, but attitude goes a long way in helping me decide! For instance, the people who ride two and three abreast on the two-way bike path and won't move and can't believe that you aren't going to pull over for them! (Okay, I get a bit of joy out of hurling towards them full speed, I will admit, and watching their faces when it becomes apparent I would rather hit them then pull over to let them pass!) Or the group I just passed who walked across the entire road pushing baby carriages, with one girl walking down the center line. They didn't even look back occasionally to see if a car was coming. Because you see, the road is theirs. And when you pass by on a bike, they glare at you for trespassing. Just so weird.

At the beach the other day the family that pulled in beside us on the beach was clearly not happy that we had discovered their spot. (Obviously it was theirs because they paid for their beach pass, and had found the spot the day before. THEIRS. Not anyone else's who had paid the same amount of admission to the beach. THEIRS.) So to show their disapproval, they blocked us in by parking so we couldn't get by and then stretching their beach shit from the car to the water line. Nice. I must admit, I got a kick out of watching the mother. She had her three little boys all dressed up in that sunwear garb. No exposed skin for the little honeys. She was in a bikini, in her well toned body that she sure as hell doesn't get watching three boys. Yeah, I admit it, I was thinking nanny and wondering where she was. The mother sat down under her four umbrellas (seriously, wouldn't one or two work?) and the boys were not allowed to do much of anything. They couldn't swim unless their father watched them, and he was too busy hiding by his car and looking at his phone. The only reason they had brought the boatload of toys was so that they could claim as much beach real estate as possible. When it finally came time for us to leave, the father slowly moved a few toys so that we could drive on the wet sand ... not where cars are supposed to go. When we drove by, they did not acknowledge our existence as we passed, as I mentioned earlier, within milli-inches of them. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?

We were up at Menemsha the other night for the sunset, and a family was sitting nearby. The woman and I happened to look at each other at the same time, and lo and behold, we passed smiles. Oh, it was so nice to be around a human being. I am not sure what these other people think they are, but their human-ness has been replaced by specialness. They are too special to be human. They are too special to be anything but their special selves!

Now I recognize this because I can be guilty of it too. But I fight it because I am not all that special and my bank account doesn't bolster my specialness either. It isn't super duper and we don't abuse credit in order to pad our lifestyle. I can't say anything about these people makes me want to be them. I certainly don't want to inspire someone to write a blog about how obnoxious I am!!!

But here we are, on vacation, and no one is interested in getting along with anyone that isn't exactly like them. So it would be seriously unrealistic to expect the already divisive Washington to get together and do what they are there to do -- work for the people. But oops, which people? The special people who deserve way more than the non-special people? Or the non-special people who are only here to annoy the special people?

The sneetches on the beaches who have stars on their bellies. Or the sneetches on the beaches without stars upon thars?

Always talking about the weather

2011-07-29T14:41:00.000-04:00

Since I no longer like the sun and despise the heat, I was a little concerned about going on vacation on an island where the sun is kind of king. After several weeks of 90-plus temperatures and non-stop sweating while sitting still, I drove onto the island and everything changed. The temps have been heaven. Combined with a near constant sea breeze, I have been inhaling moving air and loving every minute. And even sitting on the beach was fine because it was never ghastly hot. And floating in the sea, well, it's always been my thing.

We have been here since Sunday and have had a few cloudy days when we first got here that I was overjoyed with. I have done a lot of bike riding and it is nice when the sun isn't blazing down on you. Then we had two not-a-cloud in the sky days in a row and we stayed on the beach for hours. Then today came along and it was cloudy with scattered sun and I was thrilled. A perfect day to ride bikes or not feel the pressure to get to the beach/. Love it. I am sitting on the deck with the breeze swirling about me, the sun keeps popping out and there is no where I want to be. No where. But here. Enjoying this moment, this time in a vacation where Maddie and her friend have left and the dynamics have switched back to my parents and Charlie and me -- which makes it fewer people and a little less drive to "do" anything specific. Charlie is now in the kitchen making brownies and it is just peaceful and sweet.

In fact, I just closed my eyes and almost fell asleep listening to the wind rustling through the trees. I guess you can call that relaxed!!!!

I just took a look at the extended forecast and it is all sunballs, with temps never climbing higher than the 80s. Ooooooh, so looking forward to another week in paradise.

Damn worms

2011-07-19T10:12:00.000-04:00

This year it is the cabbage worm. I know how I will solve this in the future ... I WON'T PLANT CABBAGE. Geesh. So that is what I have been doing the past few hours. Picking off tiny green worms from my plants. Oh, those wonderful, lush plants that now all look like swiss cheese.

I actually did see the little white butterflies (or moths) flying around and thought in the back of my head it was odd. Now I know what they were doing, laying their larvae which became the fricking worms. I must admit these are not anywhere as disgusting as those tomato worms, but they are just as annoying. And there are beetles too. I hate picking those off, because they stick to your fingers. I am completely grossed out. I would pull the cabbage now, but it looks so darn close to done. And beautiful ... most of the kale has been eaten, nice. They don't like curly purple kale though, that is going strong. They apparently don't like purple cabbage either, which I didn't plant. Haven't hit the lettuce yet, but they are busy.

Sometimes I get chemicals.

The bear and the heron

2011-07-17T10:45:00.000-04:00

I was driving back from dropping Charlie off at work this morning. I wasn't in a very good mood. It is an absolutely gorgeous summer morning and I was disgusted that Peter and Maddie were at a softball "tournament" and that just set me off with all sorts of wonder at what our society has become. (I spent TWELVE hours yesterday sitting in an uncomfortable seat watching a softball "tournament." I keep putting that in quotes because what it really is is a huge scam ... get parents to spend loads and loads of money to have them play in these games all weekend long. Why?) But anyway, that was going on in my head, in addition to the lake "stuff." Charlie spent the night there and I had to swing through to pick him up. And it was such a negative environment with the inconsiderates. That is my word for family members who can't see beyond themselves. So THAT was in my head also!

So as I drove with my busy negative head going's on, I was going down this hill when I saw something loping across the road. It was HUGE. I mean, as soon as my brain clicked that it was a ginormous black bear, I slowed down because I felt fear. The thing was seriously the biggest bear I'd ever seen (and living around here I've actually seen quite a few) and it was loping across the road with such power ... and I was in a Jeep. I put the windows up (no roof, but I am sure that would have saved me!) and approached it cautiously. It had gone to the side of the road by now, but I was really sort of panicked that it was going to come out and attack. I don't know why. Because of its size I guess. I could see it in the woods, so I just went by.

As I continued on my way I thought, wow, that was so big! And yet, so graceful. And so black and healthy looking. It glistened, for want of a better word, in the sunshine. It was a beautiful bear and now that it was behind me, I was no longer afraid. And then I looked up in the sky, for no reason, and a blue heron was flying by. And I got it. I literally laughed out loud and felt myself flush through from head to toe with positive energy and joy.

Two signs, on an amazingly beautiful summer morning, to remind me to get the hell out of my head and shut uppa myself! And why are the bear and the blue heron significant?

I have done shaman workshops and through the process of shamanic journey have discovered that the animal that comes to me when I travel to the lower world is a bear. A big black bear that always envelopes me in a bear hug if you will, and makes me feel safe and comforted. So that bear came to me to remind me, and yet, it wasn't enough. I didn't get it. So the blue heron, which is my power animal, also came. It was freaky, and yet, intuitively I know that it wasn't freaky at all. It was a reminder that if you are aware, then it all makes sense.

And sometimes you need a big black bear and a beautiful bird to jog you back into a place of wellness.

So I thank you, universe, for that amazing message. Just so you know, I got it :)

p.s. I chose the rather whimsical bear picture above because it best reminded me of what "my" bear looked like. All the other google images were of sort of scrawny looking bears. Mine was amazing. And while this picture doesn't depict him, it does sort of show his energy.

More iPad gushing

2011-07-14T20:10:00.000-04:00

I just love my iPad. I have said this before but it is worth stating again. Love it!

I am thoroughly enjoying reading Oprah magazine on it -- which has a fully developed app that manages to blow me away at every page. First, I "turned the page" and this eye pleasing colorful presentation took place before my eyes ... all about the 25 years of Oprah. It was like a surprise fireworks show or something. Love it.

Then I was in the Book Corner, and there was a picture of a stack of books. It said to tap a book for more information. So I tapped one. A picture of the author and a short synopsis popped up, and at the bottom I could choose a variety of things, so I chose a sample. Read that and decided I wanted the book. Tap, tap, off to Amazon the iPad went, and within seconds I had purchased the book at the top of the stack. I returned to the stack and tapped the next one. Rinse and repeat. I started downloading samples, because all of this interactivity is a tad ADHD -- I mean, I set out to read Oprah magazine, not seven different novels!

But love love love it! Love the little videos that pop up, love love love it. Okay. Sorry, but I had to gush. I had to!

Off to read more!

No Impact Man

2011-07-11T16:15:00.001-04:00

http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/no-impact-man/

There is a strong pull from deep within me that wants to be someone other than who I am. I don't say that in an existential manner. What I mean is that I want to not be a participant in this consumer-driven society. I want to live in harmony with the planet and reap true benefits. Not drive up credit card bills.

I am actually not a shopper, but like anyone, I like new things. I don't shop as sport and I could care less about a bargain. If I need something, then I buy it as soon as it is in front of me. And online shopping is my greatest guilty pleasure, if you will. But the possibility of having little to no impact on the planet appeals to me more than a new pair of shoes. It appeals to me a lot.

I thoroughly enjoyed watching the documentary, No Impact Man, which is about a New York city-based family that goes without eating in restaurants, eating anything that doesn't come from the local farmer's market in fact, eventually they do without electricity and they ride no public transportation, etc. Now the wife, Michele Conlin, goes to work everyday where there is electricity, ice and so on, but ultimately in the end she has no desire to return to her caffeine addiction or even to have TV in the apartment. What she finds is that the great sacrifices brought her to a new realization that if you are seeking something, you can probably find it right in front of you.

I like that message. I believe in it. And I haven't, always.

I am currently reading this book and I have been devouring it like I would a juicy novel. It is full of scientific mumbo jumbo that for some reason I can understand as though it is comprehensible. Which I guess ultimately it shouldn't be, but like I said, it is. I think this is because I have always had this feeling, this knowing if you will, that the big shit was going to hit the fan, and to have it spelled out for me is more comforting than discouraging.

One thing I found that resonated with me was that it is almost dangerous when people recycle and grow their own food, because it almost gives them a moral justification to carry on their not-so-less impactful ways without any guilt. I agreed with that except for the part that I do have guilt. I hate driving in the huge SUV and that my big huge house is completely energy-UN-efficient. And I don't feel as though I am helping any of that with the guilt-free light bulbs or turning off things that don't need to be on. And having a small garden makes me feel as though I should do more -- grow more and can more and be more self-sufficient.

What is hard to battle is the self-loathing that I don't do more. That even though I KNOW there are so many more things I could do to lessen my carbon footpath, I do not. And the reason why is that I too, am in the state of denial that the majority of humanity suffers from, though I try to fight it.

As I rode in the boat last night with a beautiful sky above me and the planet around me seeming to be about as perfect as it could get, I thought, as I've thought many times before, what comes next? When (if?) this Great Disruption takes place, what happens to all the gasoline powered boats? Will such frivolous things as pleasure boats be discontinued due to the fact that they are not necessary? Or will that pleasure continue as technology closes the gap and the gasoline engines are converted to electric in those very same boats? I don't know.

And then I thought, really? This is where your thought process goes when the essential fabric of our society is going to be torn to shreds? What is going to happen to the pleasure boats? It is like a running battle inside my head ... what is going to happen, and damn, what a beautiful night. I think it is healthier to be in the moment -- to breathe in deeply and take in the magnificence of the planet. But it's also just naive to forget that it is in jeopardy.

This is just a new take on Peak Oil and all the disaster that brings with it, but the headliner in this book is climate change. Are they one and the same? Is peak oil not just a symptom of the bigger problem of a consumer-based society? And the consumer-based society that is eating up its resources at an alarming rate with no intent to stop is also looking at all the crazy weather-related disasters as oh well, whatchya gonna do?

Does Paul Gilding, who claims everything he states in this book is based on scientific fact, really right? Do I have any faith in scientists when I don't in doctors? Or do I have faith in certain scientists, certain doctors? Who am I to judge? Who am I at all?

I've said this before, and I will say this again. It is a question that has haunted me since I was a small child. I would ask, to no one in particular, but as I have grown (I don't want to be as egotistical as to use the word evolved) through the decades, I believe I was speaking to someone for sure, the question WHY AM I HERE?

And I would get no answer. And as I have lived my life I have examined my certain talents and wondered if I was squandering them, but in the end, I don't think I was put on this earth to write novels or run an organic restaurant or even have a successful blog. All of these things are certainly attainable, but if they were meant to be, then I certainly would have done it. Right? I'm not lazy, which has always made me curious that I wasn't highly successful at one endeavor or another. And yet, I AM highly successful in the fact that I have raised three wonderful children and believe that I have instilled in them a certain value system that will bode them well in the upcoming future. And most of the time I truly believe that my barometer of success (outside the world's barometer of success being where you are in your career and how much money you make) is the right one.

It's not that difficult being me, believe me. The level of success I have reached in living a full life, with amazing traveling opportunities and acquisition of material things to the degree that I have is certainly enviable. And that I say and just shake my head, because that is the stuff that DOESN'T MATTER AT ALL! What is really successful is a 25-plus year marriage and three amazing, respectful, smart, dedicated and brilliant children~! So why didn't I put that first? Because society doesn't dictate that as success. Show me the money.

Well, fuck you, society. Humanity. And anyone else that believes that a BMW trumps my Jeep. It's all just metal on wheels and it's all emitting dangerous gasses into our stressed ecosystem and we're all going to be deep in the shit and well you know what? That just excites the hell out of me.

Why? Because THAT is why I am here. To what level, to what end, I have no idea. That is just the beginning of the excitement. Because all of it -- the material stuff -- you can take away, as long as you leave me with what is important, and that is my family. And it will be my job to show them the way. It already is, but they aren't ready to listen. And that is fine.

I am not even going to share what I have learned through my reading, because no one wants to hear it. And I don't blame you, it is scary shit. But I will leave you with this to ponder. Right now, as a society we are using 1.4 planets worth of resources. If we continue on with a growth-based economy (and remember, you are only going to vote for Obama if he promises more growth) in 2050 we will need four planets to sustain that type of growth.

I fully intend to be here in 2050, and it is pretty plain to see that since we only have this one planet, something WILL happen, some adjustment, some Great Disruption ... and if you believe Gilding, and I do, it already has started.

I'm ready for whatever comes. Are you? (Keep in mind, I've always loved scary rides.)

Crazy weather

2011-06-29T16:06:00.000-04:00

So last night I was driving home from the seacoast. It was late and I probably should have just stayed over -- but I had things to do here today, so I left there sometime after 11:00. It was a completely uneventful drive, with a handful of yawns here and there, but overall, nothing remarkable. I was approaching the last stretch when I literally drove into a wall of water.

Charlie had texted me shortly before I left and asked if the roof was on the Jeep. I had decided to put it on earlier, when we were going out to dinner, because the sky looked a little funky. I didn't bother with putting in the back and back side windows because it was so nice out and I really didn't expect it to rain. He said there was thunder and lightening there and I just assumed it would be gone by the time I got near there.

Yeah, back to that wall of water. There was what looked like heat lightening in the distance off and on throughout the drive, but nothing I would classify as major lightening. No thunder. Then all of a sudden it was as though I passed through a curtain and it was raining SO hard, it was shocking. I turned on the windshield wipers as fast as they go and slowed down to about 30 miles an hour. It had gone from 100 percent visibility to zero in a nanosecond. It was so incredibly freaky, and then all of a sudden the whole world lit up with lightening and those lines, like in the picture above, were EVERYwhere. I swear, the hair stood up on my head. Not because I was hit, but because WHAT THE HELL AND WHERE DID IT ALL COME FROM? I hadn't seen flashes of lightening in a while, and now I was suddenly surrounded by a big ass thunderstorm, BABOOOOOOOOOOM. Let me tell you, it was pretty damn loud in that open Jeep -- the rain was totally hitting me because it was like being in a car wash, the noise was impossible to describe, between the thunder and the rain jamming down upon the canvas top, and the windshield wipers going at a frenetic pace ... I was sitting up with both hands on the wheels just peering out at the road. What road? I couldn't see any damn road. I could see fog and rain, rain everywhere, and then those eerie snaps of lightening which lit up everything in this crazy blue light and I thought, this is a fricking horror movie and the person watching it is screaming at the crazy woman in the open Jeep what the hell are you doing on a deserted highway after midnight?

A thunderstorm would be the last thing to throw me, but this had a violence to it that was disconcerting. That, and not being able to see and having brief thoughts as to whether I was protected at all, since it FELT as though I was outside, all added up to me feeling a little less than confident that I was in a good place. As I creeped along, I wondered if it would ever end. And the closeness of the lightening freaked me out -- those lines everywhere, in front and on the side, I am telling you, I was wondering what the hell I would do if I went off the road. You know, because I COULDN'T SEE THE ROAD.

By creeping along very slowly, I followed the white line. It would disappear in the fog, but when the lightening came I could sort of re-orient myself to the right hand side of the road. It was hairy. And it went on for a good 15 miles. I couldn't get off at the exit I would normally take because I couldn't see anything and without the white line it would be impossible to continue. And I couldn't pull over because that didn't feel safe AT ALL. Not on any level. It would have freaked me out worse! Though now that I am writing this, I could have gotten off the highway and gone under the bridge and taken a breather! But no. It was now 12:30 in the middle of the night and the world had gone crazy. I wasn't stopping! There was not another soul on the highway that entire time. When I got off the exit a cop flew by me going in the opposite direction as me. I wanted to say TAKE ME HOME! Then I thought, maybe he will turn around and pass me and I could follow his lights! But nope, had to adjust to driving without a white line ... and then little by little the rain began to abate. Three miles out from home it was a normal rain storm and a normal display of thunder and lightening.

I'd made it through .... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

Confessions of a former sun worshiper

2011-06-27T23:02:00.000-04:00

I have always loved the sun -- I mean, of course, who doesn't -- but I've always enjoyed being in it and the heat has never bothered me much.

Now? Can't stand the heat. The sun, well, the sun is just HOT!

I have been fortunate to have access to a lake and all the swimming you can eat. And I have spent hundreds of hours sitting on the dock, soaking up the sun, enjoying the rays dazzling off the water. Now, I find it ... HOT!

I have broken a new record this year by almost hitting July without going into the water. Now, this does have something to do with the fact that it has been rainy and cold (which I am going to say I haven't been complaining about all that much ... I mean, it has sucked that it has been so miserable, but great reading weather. FAB reading weather!)

I love the beach more than the lake -- the ocean is where it's at. And tomorrow I am going to see if that still holds true. I am going to go dig my toes in the sand and put my body into the freezing cold waters of Maine and hopefully it will all come back to me. Because right now, I would far rather sit on my screen porch and read than out in the blazing sun on the dock.

My family thinks something is wrong with me. I just find it curious. Do we really change like that? Or is it just a phase? <<<<<>>>> I have no idea. All I know for sure is that I don't want to be in the sun. It is just so uncomfortable.

So that tsunami and that nuclear meltdown thing ...

2011-06-17T11:17:00.000-04:00

Lately I have been feeling very fatigued ... despite the fact that I exercise daily and eat right and ingest a lot of healthy shit in my smoothies that are supposed to keep me feeling aliiiiiiiiiive. I did go off my Vitamin D because when it is actually sunny out, I am in it a lot and I don't want a D overdose. But that is the only change I've made. Then I thought, okay, I guess this peri-menopause stuff is hitting me -- despite the fact that I thought I had it under control. And I started researching bio-identical hormones.

When I say fatigued ... I mean, hardly able to move.

But then I was reading some of my off-kilter blogs and realized that I had forgotten about radiation poisoning (as I am supposed to do, by never hearing about it on the news. etc.) Try to google radiation spreading from Japanese tsunami ... you'll get bupkus. No one is talking about it. Which always scares me. Months ago I ordered a huge box of seaweed so that I could make soups and what not to help with the radiation. There is no doubt in many people's minds that this radiation has made its way to the United States. I thought I was being proactive in my seaweed ordering -- but no one really wants to think about such things, so it's been sitting around in the pantry. I mean, really. Seaweed soup? Ewwwwww. But if you ingest it, any radiation in your body binds to it and well, that is a good thing.

One of the side effects of radiation poisoning is fatigue. Hmmmmmmm. Obviously I am not ingesting great doses of radiation, but it binds to rain drops. Have we had any rain lately? Where do those clouds come from? Listen, I don't want any of it to be true, but it seems insane to just ignore it. Something made me buy a box of seaweed and I bet you that if on the news they were telling people that it was a great way to protect from radiation poisoning, I'd have made my soup by now and would be sharing it with others! But the complete and total silence in regards to this nuclear disaster (which they believe is so big it's incomprehensible) gives me that feeling in my gut that the big people have decided that the little people can't handle the truth.

So I am off to make seaweed soup. My seaweed comes from Maine and it was harvested well before the disaster.

I'll let you know if it works.

iPad, uPad, we all scream for iPad.

2011-06-14T14:01:00.000-04:00

It seems quite crazy, insane even, that I haven't raved to the ether and beyond about my iPad. How can this be? Perhaps because I am always using it? Whether it be to read a book (which let me just say now, makes no sense, because no one loved her Kindle more than I did. But the truth is, the iPad is way more fun to read on than the Kindle. Color makes a big difference. Just think what our lives would be like today if the Wizard of Oz had stayed black and white.) Wrong.

So, yes, I read on it. A lot. But I also love to check email and blogs on it because it is so convenient and easy to do, wherever I might be. I don't actually have a laptop ... well, I do, it's a netbook though, and more just because someone like me needs to have the ability to tune in whenever, where ever she may be -- but my number one computer is a beeeeee-U-tiful iMac with a kick-ass big old screen and it meets all my needs, thank you very much. I had, in fact, determined that I didn't need an iPad. What was I thinking?

I have stacks of Vanity Fair magazines in my office. Stacks of them. The problem with VF is that every article is thousands of words long. Clearly the editor of VF just goes out to lunch everyday or something, because these tomes just go on and on and on. But I always feel as though I must read every word. So as a result, I get behind. Oh, and flipping through the pages and pages and pages of glossy ads (which I don't even glance at) is tiresome. BUT! There is an app for that! Oh yes, indeedy, you can download Vanity Fair and read it on your iPad -- and it is an app designed by VF -- which is a big deal, one will find, when using apps. Because VF designed the app, it works with the magazine. And in such a beautiful way. Oprah magazine has done the same thing. Beautiful apps, beautiful magazines with an interactive feature that just can NOT be beat. You can click on a photo and get more photos. You can get videos right then and there ... it's just a dream come true! Love, love, lovelovelovelove it!

Avoid apps that have no connection with the publication itself -- because in most cases it is just PDF pages downloaded with no interactivity whatsoever and often times they are even blurry. No thanks! The New York Times has a fairly decent app -- The Boston Globe does exactly what I I told you to avoid. Clunky, blurry, not good. There is nothing that pisses me off more in an app than "hanging" where I can't figure out how to get out and the only way is to get out altogether. The Union Leader also does the same thing -- though even worse than the Globe! It is like flipping through an old microfiche machine. Seriously pathetic and if the point is to get yourself out there, then play big or don't play at all. People with iPad's are techno-savvy and they do not have time for that kind of crap. I couldn't delete those apps fast enough, and it is unlikely I will ever check them out again.

To pay or not to pay, that is the question. When I shelled out a lot of dough for my new toy (and make no mistake, it is a toy) I decided that I wasn't going to put a lot of money into apps. So I am currently on that same program and only download free apps. Well, liar liar, pants on fire, I did immediately download and pay for Scrabble. My addictions are wordy! And I do pay for the magazines. And take this advice ... heed it well. DO NOT DOWNLOAD THE FREE APP FOR ANGRY BIRDS.

I used to do a column on websites, called Webbed Feats, and I would spend hours combing the web looking for interesting websites and then I would write about them. I just realized that I am doing that here! And there are definitely columnists that do talk about apps -- I know because I will go to great lengths for a good free app!

The other night, as my mind was in overdrive as it usually is, I started to think about how ridiculous this whole app thing is. An app is an application, and our computers have been running on applications since the beginning of Windows-based computing. But it only takes a little time and pretty soon a word like apps is mainstream. I want to come up with such a word!

Another important piece of the iPad puzzle was the cover. I did extensive research on this, because in the end, the cover will be just as important as the equipment it is covering -- and it will be in your hands daily! I loved the look of the Smart Cover that they were pushing, but after reading only a few reviews I knew it wasn't "the one." The very fact that it didn't protect the back of the iPad was really all I needed to know, but to read that the magnets often didn't hold reminded me of people who bought Kindles with a known (by Amazon) defect that the cover created. But rather than stop the mass production and goal of putting a Kindle in everyone's hand before the end of the world, they just sold them. I happened to know more than one person who had this problem, and quite frankly I find it utterly disgusting that a company would do such a thing. Yeah, I know, I'm not that naive. But still.

So my cover had to have great reviews ... and there are a lot of covers out there. What turned me on to the Dodocase was its story; I am always a sucker for a good story. Old-fashioned bookbinding company in San Franscisco, on the brink of extinction, pairs up with hip college grads and they create a cover using tried-and true technology using the OLD machines. Love it. The name they could have worked on -- but I get it. Dodo, extinction, blah blah blah. But really, a dumb name, by saying it is a cover of extinction -- when in fact, it's not. But that is just me -- the cover is great though a little boring in its blackness. I guess I should just put stickers on it, or something, because this morning I wasted a lot of time checking out new, PINK covers! So silly.

So now I am off to read, on my iPad of course.

We are now living in the Post-O era

2011-06-01T23:12:00.000-04:00

I am not sure I can survive!

The last show was pretty anti-climactic after the big spread they put on the two shows prior -- and I kind of kept putting off watching them because as I say, how can I survive? It is my cry-fest; it is a great way to unwind at the end of the day and kick up my feet and experience others who have much more to cry about than I do; or to remind myself that I can. That I can continue to grow and evolve and become more of who I am, not less.

But she is also a lesson in over-doing it and it is time to chill a bit and get a handle on how to move forward in a far less frenetic manner. I can't imagine running a network is easy; but at least she won't be doing it in conjunction with putting on a daily talk show. But when you slow down it is hard -- you tend to fill in your "free" hours with something, anything. It took me years and years and years to stop filling my free time with volunteer work or overdoing something like hiking mountains or tennis or whatever it was. It is my nature to be engaged in something; and yet, once I stopped searching for ways to fill what I thought were holes in my life, you then wonder how the hell you got anything done doing "all that."

I am having a horrible time getting a grip on time right now. For the last few months I have not done any writing -- and not because I am avoiding it -- but because I really don't have time. I will then wonder, how can that be? And yet, the minutia of everyday life butts in and pretty soon the day is half over and I haven't done even a quarter of what I set out to do. This is a busy time of year, anyway, and we are all behind because we were gypped on spring and have been launched directly into summer. Oh, it was so bloody hot out today I could hardly stand it. And it's not like it is mid-July or August and it is feasible to go sit at the lake and sweat in comfort. No! I have way too many things to do, and getting that damn garden in is one of them.

And now everything has to be done without Oprah! Who is going to do the show on weird tornadoes sweeping across the country and even hitting places like the Northeast where they are very rare? Who is going to compile the experts and interview the families who survived? Certainly not the mainstream media -- which is just a hopeless excuse for news telling. Though I did enjoy the radio this afternoon when they kept repeating that a tornado watch is not as bad as a tornado warning. Having just been in Oklahoma exactly one day before a tornado ripped through the very neighborhood I was in, I am just a tad freaked. I called Charlie to tell him that he should go into the basement if things got weird (he was home alone and I was in the car with Maddie, quite sure I could outrun a tornado in the car. I mean, I've seen Twister, and you can practically be in it and it is cool, you just wrap a belt around your waist and hold on.) But then I thought, DO you go into the basement? I have lived in this here area for all of my 40 something years, and I don't recall ever being concerned about a tornado. I have no do's or don'ts.

Oprah, what the hell am I going to do? I mean, a post-O era is really almost like the end of the world. And here I am with no survival kit.

Damn.

We have sprung right into summer

2011-05-31T12:57:00.000-04:00

My garden adventures continue as we come into a new spring with a raspberry bush patch that needs serious weeding, and a run to google to find out what I am supposed to do with the asparagus bed? Oh, and is it normal to have kale return after winter and lo and behold, there are lettuce plants growing too.

After a seriously sickening run of rain rain rain and then some more rain, it is as though the world has exploded in green. And the garden, which was all but dormant a few weeks ago, has sprung into serious action. The rhubarb plants are bolting, the kale is now bolting -- when it was beautiful yesterday! Guess the crazy hot summer days that hit us like a ton of bricks over the weekend confused even the garden. And here is little old me, completely clueless about all these things, and yet, realizing that it is with experience that I will become a true gardener. (If we get those crazy creepy tomato worms this year, I will know what to do, instead of running inside and freaking out that I have been invaded by aliens.)

It is time to prepare the garden for planting and I keep a close eye out on all the gardens I pass on my daily travels to see what stage they are in; and whether or not they lay down weed matting, which I have done the past two years. But no one else seems to do it, and it is a bit of a pain to plant because I have to saw holes into it to get things in. But you do NOT have to weed at all, and there is a lot to be said for that. But why don't others do it? And then I see how the garden wants to keep itself going -- by reseeding through bolting or just plain returning, and I wonder, am I doing more harm by starting over every year? I JUST DON'T KNOW. And it seems that there are so many conflicting answers that I feel a bit overwhelmed. But this is the first time I understood that this is not to be learned through books. This is something you learn over time, with experience, and I really like that idea! (And again, thank GAWD FOR GOOGLE!)

The dogs have been digging up the perennial garden near the entrance to the house -- and I started off the season feeling defeated. There is now a huge patch that they have destroyed, where all the plants I have so carefully placed will never return. And I can't do a thing in the vegetable garden until we have a fence up -- because last year as soon as I planted, they went in and dug it up. I don't know what to do -- they dig when I am home and it's not as though I can keep an eye on them 24/7. I don't want to put an ugly fence around it, because then it would defeat the purpose (I absolutely will put up a fence around the veggie garden) but the perennial garden is part of the walkway and a fence would just make it look gross.

I hate to complain, but this weather is not really conducive to garden work. It's more like the middle of July -- brutally hot and super buggy to boot. And the kids keep talking about the snakes they see in the garden, and I am mortally afraid every time I turn around! What is this dilemma? Why oh why do I have to deal with this snake thing? The breeze ruffles a blade of grass and I nearly faint. I swear, I should have someone gather all the snakes they can find and make me walk through them or something. There must be some type of de-sensitization technique!!! Google?

The choice is yours ... at least for now

2011-05-26T09:49:00.000-04:00

I have really started to hate to fly. I mean, really, really hate it. I have done a lot of traveling in my life and for the most part, have felt that air travel, while often inconvenient, uncomfortable and time consuming, has always been not that big of a deal. But now, now it feels like there is an underlying current there -- something that niggles at the back of my mind that says, they want to make your life miserable.

But perhaps that is because that is what they do -- and they do it so well! As someone who just loves, loves, loves Southwest, I don't often complain about flights because they do a great job. They have happy personnel and they strive to get you where you want to go, on time. Such an amazing concept! But Delta -- let me just say this, DELTA SUCKS. My last two miserable trips have been on Delta, and I have nothing good to say. N O T H I N G.

The first leg out of Manchester on our trip to Oklahoma was a fricking nightmare. I am not sure what happened to the plane, but it shrunk -- perhaps it went through one too many rainstorms -- but I could hardly get my bag off my lap and under the seat in front of me. It also didn't help that I couldn't sit with the people I was with. Remember those days when if that happened, and it happens on Delta because they overbook and don't have seats for you to claim when you buy your ticket, the ticket agents would get you together or the passengers themselves would move so you could be with your people. Yeah, that doesn't happen any more. They say NO, I want my window seat. Whatever. Freeze your ass off and I will enjoy watching that. (The window seats on Delta flights are just frigid.)

So that flight totally sucked, and the next one was much better because there was an additional inch or so of leg room in the seats so I could actually get my bag down on the floor. And I got to sit with my people! Geesh. But here's the other thing -- because they charge to check luggage, everyone of course carries on their little (or not so little) bags. So in many cases you have to gate check. But the word must have come down from the top of corporate to ruin these bags -- because my beautiful (hard covered) pink case was totally marred and scarred and my mother's was actually broken. You telling me that the trip from the doorway to the hold of the plane is that bumpy? Yeah, they are purposefully trying to ruin your bag so you will check. One woman's bag was soaking wet. Did they all pee on it? Nothing would surprise me.

They have also managed to create a package small enough to contain six peanuts and 8 pretzels. What type of engineering magic is that? And then again, why bother? It is like a taunt -- haha, hope you're not hungry, because this won't do anything for you, but we're giving it to you to remind you that we suck!! Good strategy.

The flight back home was not total hell -- but only because we managed to foresee what it would be.   But there was of course, a good dose of sheer hell involved. Our flight out of Oklahoma was late. It didn't NEED to be late, but the person at the gate was just one person, and he very slowly wheeled three people in wheelchairs onto the plane. He left the door to the ramp that connects to the plane wide open and quite frankly, this upset me because I have to be made to feel like a potential criminal every time I go to fly, but they don't have someone making sure that just anyone doesn't get onto this flight at the fricking gate? They are just so disorganized it is sad.

So we were late because they couldn't get the plane loaded in a timely manner. THEN, after we arrived in Detroit, with everyone looking at their watches over and over as they wondered if it was humanly possible to get to their connecting flights, we stood in that little tuna can in the growing heat and waited. And waited. Finally the pilot comes on and says ummm, sorry, but we have called in to tell them we have arrived, we are just waiting for someone to drive over and connect to the door. Seriously? They just suck! Or do they do it on purpose? I am not sure. Sometimes it is inconceivable that any service industry could be THAT bad. I mean, THAT bad.

Once off the plane, we rushed into the crowded airport to find a bank of screens to see which gate our next flight was leaving from. I am not sure why they make sure that you arrive at one end of the airport and depart from another -- this too must be some masterminded scheme -- but it was flashing BOARDING on our flight, and the gate was of course, a 100 miles away. We started running. Another woman who was also on our flight ran with us. We ran as fast as we could, we had to dodge other people running for other flights. It was crazy. It was insane. I was sweating so much by the time I reached the gate, you could have wrung me out. My hair was drenched. I rushed to the desk and gasped, Manchester flight, has it left?

The woman barely looks at me and says Flight 3811 has been delayed until 12:30. (It is now 10:00.) I flipped out. I try not to let things bother me, but give me a fucking break. I was like OH REALLY, that is SO WEIRD that it was flashing BOARDING on the screens, does anyone think that perhaps the word DELAYED might be employed so that people don't try to kill themselves to rush to a plane that doesn't even exist, much less is being boarded? Do you have a survey that I can fill out so I could give you a couple of hints on being respectful of people? I WAS SO MAD. (They just ignore you. It is a good plan. I mean, pretend the person doesn't exist, it will make them feel oh so much better.)

I stormed to the bathroom, and regrouped. I knew deep within my very soul that there was no plane leaving at 12:30. Why do they lie? Why? I just don't get it. Why do they want to fill the airport with irate people? What are they preparing us for? So we went back to the woman I had yelled at and said we wanted to rebook our flight for the following morning. Well, she liked that. Because now she had three open seats (on a flight that was never leaving of course) and she could hand those out to three people sitting around despondently at the gate. Fine. We got hotel and food vouchers and made phone calls home that we weren't coming home.

Now, that was our story -- we ran, we peed, and then we had this particular agent (I think her name was Trista) became our personal travel agent. I apologized for having yelled at her, and I said, I am not normally like this, but my gawd, it is ridiculous to have people running for no reason. She apologized too and we were all great friends as she rebooked our flights and gave us our free rooms and $12 towards food. Hey, fine. Whatever. But think how ridiculous that was. Because the airport was jam packed with people waiting for flights that were never going to happen, because there were tornadoes and bad storms all over the place. I get the weather, but it is so weird that they never say to you, this flight probably won't happen due to the weather. Instead, they lie and say it is delayed. Why? I have no clue.    But why were we newcomers treated with such help while the others were just biding their time? Because that is how it works -- it is just luck. There is no system in place UNTIL a flight is cancelled. Then everyone has to do what we did, but do it in a really big line. Anyway.   My experience with Delta lying and then cancelling helped me out. But the real question is, why do I fly Delta? (As of this day on, I never will. N E V E R.)

So. We spend the night in a Quality Inn -- an odd name for it -- and hear true horror stories of people sitting on the runway for two hours starting at 8:00 in the morning ... and we are just happy that we have only been moderately inconvenienced. Oh, and before we even left that part of the airport, they did cancel our flight and tons and tons of people had to go stand in this never-ending line. And the following morning there were people just sitting around hoping to get a flight. We lucked out. Because, as I say, I know Delta sucks! LOL

So. I get one-and-one-half hours of sleep, partially because the hotel is super noisy and partially because I am reading this book, Hunger Games. Which is all about governmental control on steroids, and I highly recommend it. So, I wake up from my short sleep in a sheer panic, knowing that we have to get to the airport earlier than we had planned. I wake up my mother and sister, and we are standing in the hotel lobby in 15 minutes to get on the shuttle (which was packed) to get to the airport a little after 6. Where we come across the biggest lines of security I have EVER seen. As we go through the maze line, I am watching how people are being chosen to go through the metal detector or the body scanning machine. I know I can't go through the body scanning machine, but I also know that I will be chosen for it because I need to make a stand. (It is as though I feel I can control my destiny by intending to go through the metal detector, and yet I know that I HAVE to be chosen for the other.) It was a weird feeling and I kept a close eye on how the guy was choosing who would go to which. And it was quite simple -- if the line got too backed up, he would push four or five people through the metal detector, then he would let the body scanner line get backed up, and then the next wave of people would go through the metal detector. Fuck that.

So we get up there, and my sister is first, and he sends her through the metal detector. Then my mother he says to the body scanner. She goes compliantly. Then he waits a second, sees that there is not that many people behind me, and motions me to go to the body scanner. I say no. My mother gets this worried look on her face (I am sure she thinks I will be arrested) and I say no. Are you opting out, he asks? Yes, whatever you want to call it, I am not getting a good dose of radiation for no better reason than the line is not backed up.   He speaks into his walky talky, OPT OUT OPT OUT AT GATE 1, I need a female security officer, and he tells me not to move. Yeah, whatever. My security breachiness has gone up high on the scale now, I get it. But I am not shutting up. My mother says that she doesn't want to do it, and I say then don't. Opt out. But she can't. She does what she is told and even though she WANTS to say no, it is not in her. I again say, why get a good dose of radiation because the line is slow? I say to the guy, my sister gets to walk through the metal detector and yet my mother and I have to get scanned. It is too Sophie's Choice for me. He was like, what does that mean? I said, Sophie's Choice, it is a movie about the holocaust and how this woman had to choose between her two children which one will go to the ovens, and which one will not die that day. He gets this disturbed look on his face (he is young) and he says, it isn't anything like that. I said no? Then why can't I choose to go through the metal detector? I choose to live! He says the scanner isn't going to kill you. I said yes it will. Not today, not tomorrow, but it is an excess of radiation my body doesn't need. At that point, the female security officer shows up, and I walk through the metal detector and I look deeply into the guys eyes until he flinches a bit. And then I give him a big smile and say Have a great Day! The female officer is all business and says which bins are yours? DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING. Fine. Carry it for me. I point out my two bins worth of stuff and my suitcase, and she fumbles around until she has it all, and my sister is FREakING OuT saying her laptop has been stolen. And she is like, what is going on when she realizes I am following this woman. I tell her, I wasn't going through that thing, and she gets all wide-eyed and says you were right behind me! Yep. I was chosen to die.

I am told to put my feet on the two marks (this is also wrong, so of course I make sure my feet do not line up with the feet marks on the rug) and she says do you know what I am going to do? And I said yes, you are going to have sex with me. She grimaces a little, and I say, come on, you are going to touch me all over, we all know that, so get to it. She says I can have a private screening, and I say oh no, I am good. The woman next to me is all freaked out, and I ask her if she opted out. She says what does that mean? I said did you go through the scanner, and she says yes. But she had a cell phone in her pocket and they dragged her to the rug! LOL So she says, what does opt out mean? I tell her that I don't want to go through those machines because of the radiation. That I am sure it is way worse than anyone knows because they are new, and it takes a long time for people to die from radiation so it will be 20, 30, 40 years from now before they link it to these machines. My security officer is listening to me, and the woman is like you are kidding me, I could have just had this done? I said yes, just say you opt out. She thanked me. (I am not sure why people don't realize this. I think there was even a sign somewhere in the line saying you could, but it was small print and not well posted. No, seriously.)

So then my sister and mother come over and stand by me and my sister, who was recovering from thinking her laptop was stolen, was saying that the woman at the screening area was like, so sorry you lost your laptop. And I said, that is bologna, that your stuff is taken from you and sent somewhere and someone can take it and they don't care. And then I say to my woman, who is patting down my bare feet and bare legs (as I am in shorts) I am not talking about you, you were very nice about making sure I had all of my stuff," and she smiles a little and says okay, you're all set. All she did was touch my hair, my back, made me lift my shirt so that she could feel around my waist line, then my legs (my bare legs, I again repeat. BARE legs and feet.) And then that was it. No sex for me!

I also noticed that more people were going through the metal detector than earlier.   I wonder if that guy will rent the movie Sophie's Choice!

I was the same person that flew the day before without being a security risk. We need to be treated as the criminals that we ARE NOT. We need to be recognized for not blowing up planes, not treated as though we would. Yeah, yeah, we are all safer because of it. No, you are not. The point of a metal detector is to detect metal. I love the pictures above ... are you telling me that that person would get through with all that metal? No, they would not.

This is about compliancy. Begin it on any level that you can -- make people learn to comply. Take a service industry, and treat people like crap and they keep coming back because they have no choice.

Or do they?

Khan Academy

2011-05-17T09:28:00.000-04:00

I have been busy busy busy, first writing my book and then later doing a project that will culminate in an awesome graduation gift for Maddie. In other words, there has been no time for frivolous writing. But as of yesterday I am free of one, and not quite ready to delve into the other again (all writing projects pretty much suck me in so completely I lose all track of time and space!) so I am taking a breather. The nice thing about a blog post is that it, by its very nature, is relatively short.

Amen to that! So I was catching up on the own blogs I follow, and found an interesting link to http://www.khanacademy.org/, which I followed. This is a pretty cool thing -- a huge (and growing) collection of short lessons on a huge range of topics -- with an intense concentration in math. I decided to check out one on futures ... and let me tell you, I am not sure if I understood the concept before, because well, I don't think a lot in terms of finance on that level, but I get it now. I think I saw one of these that my sister put on her facebook page -- and I thought it was so busy and schmaltzy -- but that was because I didn't understand the basis of the concept.

Which is? Well, Sal Khan helped out his cousins by tutoring them remotely using youtube videos. He just left them in the open either, and people all of a sudden were sending him messages thanking him for his help. Which got him to thinking ... and now that is what he does, with help from funding from the Bill and Melinda Gates foundation, he has created an impressive array of these videos that anyone can access -- for free!

Bill Gates thinks it could be a revolution -- and while I've never been a fan of his -- the underlying premise of providing free education to anyone who wants it is pretty monumental. There is a little buzz going on -- with key people from other technology-based companies leaving to go to Khan Academy, so I presume something even bigger than quality free education is in the works.

But in the meantime, I might just become math literate. It has never been my strong suit, and when the kids ask me questions about their homework, I have to straight out tell them, sorry, I don't get it. But maybe I can change all that! (Though truth be told, the whole not knowing math thing has never been a problem for me in the last few decades!) What I would like to learn is languages -- so hopefully they will expand to cover that category.

Okay, that is my tidbit for now!

A concert as the muse

2011-04-21T10:26:00.000-04:00

I have never been a big concert person -- I like music -- it is a very integral part of my life -- but perhaps more of a result of geography than anything else, I have not attended a lot of concerts in my life. (I do also have amazing hearing, so it might not have been a bad thing!)

So when a friend had an extra ticket to a concert for someone I'd never heard of, much less listened to, my obvious answer was no, right? But for some reason I didn't say no. There was no resounding reason to go (didn't know who the opening act or the headliner was) but there was no resounding reason not to go either. I was neutral and there was clearly a part of me that wanted to go. So I went.

As we walked on the sidewalk to enter the venue, the House of Blues in Boston, on Lansdowne Street across from Fenway Park, I was completely engulfed in a total deja vu. I'd gone here in the murky regions of my past ... that region where there was drinking and near strangers and loud music and having to flirt my way past the door man as I was under aged. As I held out my wrist to get the bracelet that would allow me to purchase alcohol inside without the need of an ID (okay, so I guess I look older than 21, it was bound to happen someday, right?!) I couldn't get over the weird feeling, or the feeling of the energy that a concert-growing crowd emits. I liked it. It was familiar, it's a young energy and it reactivated the young cells of my youth and flooded me with memories.

The opening act, Christina Perry, whom I actually thought was going to be Katy Perry, was very cute and energetic and sooooo excited that it was the first night of her first-ever tour. Like I said, good energy. There was a short break and then James Blunt came out. Cute. And the following two hours were quite enjoyable and got my creative juices flowing in a big way.

so it is time to write.

Mr. Potato head.

2011-04-19T14:30:00.000-04:00

I am (and I announce this with clear intent to the universe) finishing up the novels I have written (or not completely written) and moving on. Until I rid myself of these appendages, I have been told that there will be no space for anything new. I believe that.

As I read through the one novel that has been haunting me for some time for attention, I am never quite sure if more has been written or if it is in my head. I am 99.4 percent sure that there is more to this story actually written, so I have been going through my files with a fine tooth comb looking for that stray file. I can be very careless with my writing -- sitting down and writing for an entire day and then closing the file, giving it some random name, and then forgetting about it. So I opened up a file called Writing Between the Cracks. And it cracked me up.

Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000201 EndHTML:0000012020 StartFragment:0000002430 EndFragment:0000011984 SourceURL:file://localhost/Users/lisamadden/Documents/Writing/writing%20between%20the%20cracks

Writing Between The Cracks

She has long, flowing blonde hair and it is snapping in the wind. He is reaching out to tame it, to tuck it behind her ears and get closer to her. He wants to lean in and kiss her, his lips are already beginning to pucker …

“Mom!” My daughter is standing before me.

I am startled and I look down to see that the water is boiling on the stove and there are vegetables waiting to be cut.

“What?” I ask her as I grab a carrot and chop its tail off.

“I have been yelling at you forever,” she says dramatically.

I am sure she can’t find her raincoat or her iPod or whatever item she has misplaced and now that I think of it, I no longer want Lucy to have blonde hair. All of my heroines have blonde hair, it’s time for a radical change. No, not red, I think. Brown hair.

“Mom!”

“What?”

“Do you ever listen?”

I take a deep breath and smile at her. “What do you have to say?”

“Nothing!” She shakes her head in disgust and leaves the room.

I begin to peel a potato and my thoughts return to Lucy. Now with the long, flowing brown hair. Oh, I smile as I recall that Ethan was just about to kiss her, and I can see him, his crazy, corkscrew curls blowing in the wind. They are on the ferry to the island where they are going to make love for the first time. And they are nervous, excited and I feel a little chill run up my spine, and then I scream in pain as I knick my thumb with the peeler. I grab a paper towel to stanch the flow of blood and then examine the half peeled potato. What am I making anyway?

I glance at the boiling water and the box on the counter. Spaghetti. Ahhhh, so what is up with the potato? The carrot is for a salad, but why am I peeling potatoes?

My daughter returns and glances at my finger. “You’re bleeding,” she says, then her eyes open wide. “What did you do to my potato?”

Her potato? I look at it guiltily, then hold up my thumb. “Look, I cut myself.”

“Mom,” she screams and turns the potato in her hands, glaring at me in horror. “You’ve ruined it.”

I shrug helplessly

“I can’t believe it,” she shrieks again. “This was Mr. Potato Head! You know, from the play I wrote. You said it was good!” She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “You killed Mr. Potato Head.”

I don’t really know what to say.

“I can’t believe you killed Mr. Potato Head,” she mutters, and my husband walks into the kitchen.

“I hate you!” My daughter yells as she runs from the room.

My husband asks me what is for dinner.

This strikes me as rude and inconsiderate and I turn off the stove burner and head for the stairs. “Nothing,” I tell him.

In my bedroom I flop myself on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Lucy would be scared, even though she and Ethan have known each other their whole lives. Her heart would pound and she would wonder what it was going to feel like. But Ethan would be afraid too…

“So we’re not having dinner?” My husband stares down at me. “What was the water boiling for?”

“I was making spaghetti but then I didn’t feel like spaghetti.”

“Pizza?”

“Sure,” I sigh with relief as he leaves the room. For the next half hour or so I can work out the love scene between Lucy and Ethan. I close my eyes and picture them in the tower bedroom …

“So, you’re not going to believe what Sarah just told me,” my older daughter lies down beside me on her stomach, her face inches from mine.

I open my eyes. “What?”

“Joel Smith is gay.”

“No way!” I sit up and look at her. “Are you sure?”

“He actually asked me out once. What was up with that?”

I can feel Lucy and Ethan fading into the ether for the time being as I realize I have to meet this conversation head on. “Well,” I begin, “I am sure he wasn’t sure himself.”

My daughter nods and then looks at me funny. “Why did you kill Maddie’s potato?”

*****

Now here is the thing. I have no idea why I wrote that or even if it is true. It has elements of truth in it -- certainly much of my life has been about the war between the characters in my head and the real people in my life vying for my time. And I use Maddie's name, but did Hallie ever know anyone named Joel Smith and was he gay? Did the potato head thing happen? I sort of kind of feel like it might have, and I have found myself many times making dinner because I felt obligated to only to realize I am far too distracted to go through with it!

It is the bane of being a writer sometimes -- the real often merges with the imagined -- and you are left with a sort of fusion of ...well I am not sure what you would call it! Did I start this thinking it would make a story? I have no idea. It just makes me laugh -- I have hundreds and hundreds of these little snippets, but yesterday I was at my parents with Maddie and I was on my father's computer, simultaneously chatting with Hallie in Dubai while trying to look up photos she had taken of her apartment there and carrying on a conversation with my father. Which of course is darn near impossible, and Maddie said to him, oh, she does that all the time, she opens her mouth and starts to say something, and then stops. Don't wait around, she'll never remember what she was saying.

If you re-read that paragraph it really makes no sense. I need to focus! What am I trying to say? Well, exactly! I try to fit too much in -- try to be too many things. I am right now in the midst of trying to finish this book, and what am I doing?

I am sharing my insanity, because there's more than enough to go around!

You are welcome!

The Trump Card

2011-04-19T09:29:00.000-04:00

Is this our next first family?

I was watching Good Morning America this morning and George Stephanopoulous was interviewing the trumpster. Clearly George went into the interview with an attitude -- I mean, Trump has been going around spouting that Obama was not born in the U.S. He has been all over the talk shows with it, and I saw the ladies on The View get very upset. Even Barbara Walters, who will lay down in total submission to almost anyone, did not like that Trump was going on and on about something that has been proven otherwise.

This morning he was telling George that he has "people" in Hawaii looking "into this matter," and George stated, in a calm but firm manner that there was nothing to be looked into, that according to law the birth certificate that Trump believes isn't real is in fact, real and that is really all there is to it. But oh no, says Trump, there are people looking into this matter. What did they find? Asked George.

Next Question, the Trump demanded! Ooooooh, you could see how PISSED George was! I mean, attitude or no, Trump was not answering his question and basically telling him to stop. Okay, so now we've seen what happens when two attitudes butt heads.

Now, here we need to address a few things. Trump is not a people person, he doesn't kiss anyone's ass and he thinks he is the king of everything. He told George that he is going to go into all of these countries that we are protecting and tell them either start giving us oil or we're going to stop protecting you. I mean, you can really only laugh. He is just going to run around and tell everyone what to do? I mean, he is a developer, for all intents and purposes. He builds hotels and casinos. Like anyone who made money in real estate, he was at the right place at the right time. He has filed for bankruptcy more than once, which in truth does give him experience to run the country. If dealing with debt is your expertise, then sign him up, right?

Right now we have a very dynamic first lady in Michele Obama. She is smart, she doesn't give a hoot about what people think about her and she went into the job knowing full well that everyone wasn't going to like her. Just the picture above gives you an idea of where Melania's assets are. I am sorry, but are you kidding me? She was posing for a publicity shot, for magazines and whatnot, and she felt the most appropriate thing to wear, to show off her milk-laden breasts was THAT? While Michele Obama portrays an amazing balance for women and girls today, by being her own person but at the same time willing to stand by her man and use that platform to promote things that are close to her heart, Melania is the anti-thesis of that. Marry rich, walk around looking good and make sure the diamonds and ahem, other assets, are showcased at all times. Grrreat.

The things I am discussing are pretty menial when it comes to the discussion of running our country, but the fact of the matter is, one person does NOT run our country. Just watching Obama flail as the Republicans stonewall his every move is disheartening enough, but then again, as long as they make it seem he is failing on his own, they don't have to shoot him. And that is a very good thing because that is how the people who actually do run this country keep things under control. Putting the country into mourning over an assassinated president isn't going to help them right now, and as long as gas prices rise (you think that is just odd? No, that is purely to piss you off and who are you going to blame?) and all those cuts to services that OBAMA did .... so that the budget could be passed and the government didn't have to shut down, will piss you off.   And so of course we will have to vote for CHANGE once again, won't we?

I think putting Trump in office would probably single handedly ruin the Republican party once and for all, I really do. Palin was crazy, but this is even crazier, and indicative of where they are at. While Palin is someone that can be handled, I don't think that Trump is. I think his ego is even greater than even he knows -- and he thinks he is being approached as a viable candidate because he is a good businessman. Or I could be wrong, he could be as much as a pawn as Palin, I don't know. Maybe he is doing exactly as he has been told and pushing that whole birth certificate thing to the limit because that is what appeals to a certain group of people. YES! Our president is Muslim and therefore he must go.

But go, he will. To me, Obama is the poster child of what our government is.   And democracy is not the word I am thinking of. Maybe we never were. Maybe it has all been a big smokescreen all along.   "They" have the right to take away every one of our freedoms. We have the illusion of that and we're okay with it most of the time.

I wonder if breast implants will go up if Trump becomes the next trump card.

The tale of the iPad 2 (sorry Hallie!)

2011-04-17T20:01:00.000-04:00

It used to be that every time a new gadget came out, I was sure to have one. Now, this is back when new gadgets came out every few years or so, so it isn't like I was stockpiling them up or anything! But I didn't realize how excited they made me until I out and out realized I was denying myself. Me? Denying myself? I know.

My interest in all gadgets great and small began to wane a bit when cell phones became so crazy popular that it was impossible to keep up with the latest and greatest. At first I certainly tried, but then I realized that I am not a phone person. I hate to talk on the phone, and while texting is convenient and all, I am just not that person who always has their cell phone on their person. And when the iPhone came out I wasn't running to get that, and I thought that was interesting. I mean, right now I have a phone that isn't filled with apps. Imagine that! I don't use my cell phone as a camera nor do I pull it out and show people pictures of my kids. I have always maintained that the screen is too small for such impractical uses and that is that. I know loads of people who have iPhones and who love them. I wasn't tempted.

Then the iPad banter began and I held my ear out for a listen. An iPad you say. Hmmmmm. But the cost seemed exorbitant for what seemed like a bigger, heavier iPhone (and you couldn't even make calls on it!) and I decided no. Not necessary. Then I saw one, and I could feel it, the excitement start to roll around a bit ... a TOY~! But it was funny, from the moment I picked it up (and pretended it was no big deal) I thought wow, it is pretty cool. But nope, I didn't need one. And I thought, wow, you are so adult now. You don't just buy toys for the sake of having a new toy. Bravo for you! You have evolved. (And truth be told, I learned the hard way that buying the first generation of something like that, like the Kindle, can backfire on you and you end up buying two.) So I just pretended that there wasn't something as fun and cool as the iPad in the universe and went about life.

Several people said to me, "I can't believe you don't have one," and I thought, hmmmm, I wonder why I don't. Then I would remember, oh yeah, I am no longer an early adopter of these gadgets and besides, it is expensive and redundant -- it does all the things I have other things to do it. And then I would remember that I was not spending money on something luxurious and excessive and would pat myself on the back. Then I started hearing about the iPad 2. From experience, I was pretty sure that all the things that I wouldn't have liked about the first version would have been fixed (smaller is better and having a camera so that you can skype on it is also a plus) and I thought, oh .... should I? But once again I would talk myself out of it.

Then Hallie said she was getting one, and let's face it, she doesn't need one ANY MORE than I do! In fact, no one NEEDS it, it is a toy, a gadget ... and I wanted one bad! But then I thought, do I only want one because SHE is getting one and then I won't have one? Hmmmmmmm.

My fingers began to itch to hold one .... I read the reviews and I watched the videos. I salivated as I thought how FUN it would be to have one. Peter saw me looking at them and rolled his eyes and asked me, as others had done before, why I hadn't bought one yet. I said, well, maybe it would make a good birthday present. He loves to get that little inconvenient holiday out of the way and he jumped on it. Told me to order one and "take care of it." Okay. I could do that.

Then I thought, you are being ridiculous. Do you really NEED one? No. I guess not. And then I got that overwhelming feeling I never let myself have, that everything is so expensive and kids in schools and college and blah blah blah and I thought no, it is just not necessary. So I decided no, no iPad for me.

Then Peter asked me several days later if I had ordered one, and I explained to him my thoughts -- and I think he was a little shocked and he said that while he appreciated my (newfound) desire to not spend money unnecessarily, it was my birthday and no one loved gadgets more than I do and he knew I would use it all the time. Oh. Well alrighty then!

And I have to tell you, I have been so excited ... I can't remember the last time I was so excited to get something! And probably a lot of that has to do with the fact that I didn't just up and buy it at the drop of a hat -- but then again, I think I am thrilled that I managed to wait until the second generation!

I am not even bothered by the fact that it will take a few weeks for it to ship. My birthday isn't really even all that close, so it's all good. Well that is a lie, just like my telling myself I didn't want one was, and if I could get it tomorrow, I would!

Heeeee heeeee heeeeeee whoooooooopie woooooooooooo!

Two Kisses for Maddy

2011-04-11T23:11:00.000-04:00

I don't remember when I first stumbled upon Matt Logelin's blog, but I have been following it for at least two years, if not longer. The one thing that attracts me to a blog is someone's brutal honesty. I don't want to read about someone's half-assed rambling about how great they are and how great they look doing it. I want to read real stuff. If someone's authenticity shines through, then I am drawn in and I never look back. It is a commitment to follow a blog -- because you are forever touched by that person, often in ways you don't ever expect.

As a young mother I found the internet to be a treasure trove of information, companionship and support. It was unfortunate that it wasn't until I had my third child that this opportunity was available (I know it is hard to imagine that the Internet wasn't always there, but believe me, it was not!) While working for Moms Online I was exposed to all sorts of things I'd never even heard of before (attachment parenting for example) and was often the person who had to mediate between those who were for it, and those who were against it. It being a whole range of theories like never putting your child down to sleeping with them until they (the child) decided it was time to sleep elsewhere. Oh, and the breast versus bottle feeding threads would get so heated I often had to shut them down. Seriously!

But I learned so much and made such important connections that I have forever been a believer that we can find what we need in this forum if we are lucky enough to find the right place.

Matt Logelin's wife Liz died the day after she gave birth to their daughter Maddy. She died of a pulmonary embolism (she was on bedrest for several months before giving birth prematurely) and as you can imagine, Matt was completely devastated. He had kept a blog while Liz was in the hospital for the last three weeks of her life as a convenient way to keep family and friends updated on her status. Later, after her death he became obsessed with keeping Liz alive for Maddy, and when he realized that he wasn't going to be able to keep her smell on the pillow or even her car in front of the house forever, he thought the blog would be a great way to share his memories with his daughter.
Matt Logelin pictured with Maddy.

Then he connected with a couple of connected women and they wanted him to join their new mom's support groups. But some of the members didn't want a man involved. So they decided to start their own -- and pretty soon Matt's website was getting a huge number of responses to a question. If he asked how do I do this at 3:00 in the morning in Los Angeles, he would get a response within minutes from someone around the country who was up. In other words, he suddenly didn't feel so alone.

Then an agent discovered his blog and asked him to write a book. And so he did. And I just finished reading it tonight. And I am exhausted.

It came about a week ago and I immediately began reading it. I chose not to buy the kindle version but instead went for the more expensive hard cover book. It just felt right. I could only get through one chapter before I was sobbing. Several more chapters and I was physically and emotionally drained and put the book aside.

And I know the story. I have read it in the blog; I have followed this man's words for years. But this book, I don't know. He put something in that book and it just oozes out of it. His grief, I suppose. He wrapped up a well source of grief and packaged it between the pages and it socks you with such a vengeance. I have never read anything like it.

I don't mean the tears rolling down your cheeks type crying. I am talking full on sobbing, with stomach contractions and big puffy eyelids and runny nose. I put the book aside. I couldn't take it.

Then I tried a chapter a day. I never got through even one without tearing up. Today I decided that it must be safe -- I was three quarters of the way through and well, it had to get better, right? But it was a different kind of tears. I felt just as emotionally devastated reading about how he was letting his wife go as I did when he was describing what it was like to lose her. Sobbing. I am a wreck. Full blown headache, puffy eyes, stuffy nose, devastated.

He has a live-in girlfriend now -- and what I would predict to be quite a successful book. He has managed to triumph over a tragedy that could level anyone. But wow ... even knowing that didn't help one iota! I have never read anything like it (well, maybe The Yearling. That book pretty much did me in -- I was 14 and sobbed for three days) and I am not sure I ever want to! I am not sure I would want to be Maddy and read that book. Good lord.

Two kisses for Maddy -- one from him, one from her mom, one for now and one for what could and should have been.

Sundays lengthy rant!

2011-04-03T12:15:00.000-04:00

The headlines are really such a source of amusement for me. Let's see, this morning I found out that the Gifford woman who was shot (seriously, do I really need to elaborate?) is doing well. How well? Well, apparently she wants privacy so the person who spoke to her declined to comment further other than that she was doing well. She wants privacy? Does she have any idea that the biggest news of the day was that she hadn't died and it went on and on and on right up to her move to the rehab center. I think it is funny that the media decided it was no longer a story to follow. The Astronaut and the Congresswoman. Ridiculous.

Another huge story today is that Charlie Sheen's opening show about his breakdown was not such a hit. Odd, huh? An actor who makes his living memorizing lines is not a comedienne. The media grew a bit weary of him, I wonder how long it will take for the goddesses to realize they are living with a psycho who needs major help. In truth, I don't give a you know what and I would just as soon not be reminded that psychotic breakdowns are fun to watch. Because they really aren't. At. All.

Moving on, hmmmm, a leak was discovered in the Japanese nuclear reactor which "probably" explains why radiation levels are being detected in surrounding areas. Again, this is not really news, it's just awful. That radiation -- that same radiation that is going to affect each and every one of us because that is how the planet works -- is a catastrophe beyond epic proportions and is why nuclear power is such a gamble.   Just understand that you will never read much about it because they are going to cover up every bit of it that they can. They have to, otherwise it might freak people out. These things just go away on their own, you know. Does anyone remember something called the Gulf Oil Spill?

I read an article where the company who runs the reactor is offering crazy sums of money for people to go in to the contaminated area and do things. Some people are taking that money; full well knowing that the radiation is going to kill them.   I think I would consider those people heroes -- the fact of the matter is, if the thing goes into a full fledged meltdown (and it probably already has and we will probably never know because radiation is colorless, odorless and travels quite happily) these people rightly assume that they will die. At least they are attempting to keep other people from being exposed. It is honorable and we are lucky to have such selfless people in the world. I ask you, would Charlie Sheen do that? Or would he send in the goddesses? The scary part, is WOULD THEY GO?

We have a new war going on, but how does that affect us, really? I don't mean to sound like I sound, but when Obama announced that they had bombed Libya, I was like, great, we are in another war. When they rained the first bombs down on Bagdhad in the year ??? (all I know is I was working in our second Manchester office, not our third, so it was a damn long time ago) I thought OH NO. This time I just realized it's never going to end. We did not learn from our mistakes ... removing dictators from power doesn't necessarily mean the war is over. It's just a different war. I did think that the uprising and eventual departure of Mubarek in Egypt was exciting ... it is that type of collective determination of a people to take back their lives that really resonates with me. I thought the same thing about the Wisconsin union brouhaha -- these are all signs of a disgruntled people -- and while we think we are above all that, just remember that in the United States of America the North fought the South. The southern states are just littered with battlegrounds. We will fight each other and die trying. Back then it was about cheap labor; today it is oil.

These are not bad times; despite the recession/depression and the wars the earthquakes and tsunamis and crazy ass weather in different parts of the world -- this has all happened before. These are just times ... the time we happen to be alive to experience or at least view such events.

When I was watching coverage of the Japanese tsunami, all I could think was, I have seen this before. We've all see the doomsday movies -- they have been around since I was a kid -- but the technology has taken it to the level that when they show the Statue of Liberty being swept up under a wall of water, it looks as real as if it had just happened. So as I watched the wall of water sweeping across the Japanese countryside, it felt familiar. I'd seen it before. The veil between reality and theatricality was not showing itself on the TV screen for that is where it all takes place. My point is, we have been de-sensitized to a certain extent and these terrible things should invoke something deep within me. But instead I think, that is horrible. But they have been living with small earthquakes in Japan forever. Those are what some people might refer to as a warning. The same thing with California -- since I was a child I have heard that it is going to fall into the ocean.

So I forego the beautiful weather and all the many things that California has to offer because falling into the ocean would kind of suck. And it has never been "if" it should happen, it is when. And the state is rampant with warning signs, no one cares to pay any attention to them. So I ask you -- if you are living in a state of denial in a state where it has been stated will come to tragedy, is it up to me to feel bad if your life is lost in such a likely event? Just wondering. I mean, what was it like that morning when they thought the tsunami was coming in a big bad way? Holy Shit batman, that is warning three thousand and one, take it or not, but I do expect to be watching California bite the dust on my TV screen in my lifetime.

I am not a doomsdayer -- not at all. I am more or less stating facts with little emotion. I just read a book about world war two -- and I think that after all these years of reading and reading and reading about the holocaust and just not being able to wrap my head around the fact that these people LET this happen to them, I get it. I completely and totally get it. They just didn't believe it. True, they heard stories, but they never thought it would happen where they were (in this case it was then Chezkoslavakia, though that was divided in two ...) anyway, this Jewish family was sure that it wouldn't come to them. (though the husband sets up swiss bank accounts early in the war under the assumption that if nothing happens, great, no big deal, but if something does .... which as we know it does, he doesn't lose all of his money and has the means to escape.)

But I think the understanding for me came with what is my own experience -- not certainly of that degree -- but how the notion of certain things is so beyond comprehension that it is just easier to pretend it won't happen. Like peak oil.    It is even becoming mainstream now to insert comments in articles such as "it has been determined that it is most likely that oil production has peaked and is in a downward cycle." You never read that before because peak oil is not good for anyone. Not business, politics, etc. etc. so it is just easier to pretend it doesn't exist. And then ... when it is good and underway, just make it common and obvious that oh sure, we've known about peak oil all along and well now it is here and why the hell else do you think we are firmly entrenched in foreign countries who have all the fricking oil?

A hot topic, for sure, that you can't really discuss with people because no one knows any hard or true facts, just speculations and beliefs. I personally have been reading about it for years -- and I have examined the charts and graphs and well, it makes sense. Just the over-consumption we have taken on in the last decade is enough to convince anyone that our reliance on it is not healthy. I used to cover myself with vaseline. Which is petroleum jelly. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to put petroleum in something that we put on our bodies? It freaks me out. Now I use coconut oil, in case you were wondering!!! (Interestingly enough, petroleum jelly was the substance that used to stick to an oil driller's rig and gunk them all up (in the late 1800s) but it was also noted that it helped cure burns and cuts, so it was of course later marketed as such!)

Back to the holocaust; I was simultaneously listening to an audio book that was about holocaust survivors and reading a book about the same topic and the double dose from two different points of view is I think what finally hit it home for me. The survivors did just that; but they had seen things that would haunt them forever and had lost so much that even though they tried to live normal lives it wasn't really possible. And those who escaped lost everything but their own lives for they left behind their possessions; their careers and their families -- and all were forever lost.

The enemy was a hazy concept until it was knocking on their doors. And it's really no different for any one or group of people -- until Hitler sweeps you up or those hundreds of thousands of little earthquakes turns into the big one -- you just hope that everything is going to be fine.