Ain't Nothin' Like the Real Thing

Lest We Forget....

2010-02-12T14:00:00.000-08:00

From Mr. Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address:

"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

Happy Birthday, Mr. President.

Prince Michael Jackson I

2010-02-10T20:52:00.000-08:00

Cue the Beatles. "na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na" "They say it's your birthday" "na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na" "We're gonna have a good time." "na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na" "They say it's your birthday" "na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na" "Happy Birthday To You!!"

Prince Michael I, Michael Jackson's oldest son, hits a milestone--his "golden" birthday---on Saturday. 13 years old on the 13th!

You can wish him a happy, happy, joy, joy by going here: Happy Birthday Prince

Who Knew?

2010-02-08T20:57:00.000-08:00

I was never a big fan of Joe Jackson. I read and heard the stories about his treatment of Michael as a small child, yet I know from those same stories that Michael loved his father. Far be it for me to judge. This statement from Joe Jackson, released today, shows another side of him that made me want to thank him and show my respect and appreciation. It speaks volumes from a man who lost a son and I shockingly couldn't have said it any better. It was posted on the Michael Jackson Fan Club web site.

"Joe Jackson said the following in his statement:

I have heard about the protests planned for tomorrow (at the Los Angeles Courthouse, Monday, February 8) and I appreciate the fans feeling that they are Michael’s voice now that he is unable to fight for himself. I also want to stand behind the statement made online by a fan that you are a reflection of Michael and you must represent him as he would represent himself – peacefully, respectfully, gracefully, and above all else with love. There is no room for hatred and violence. While we may not be as quick to forgive as Michael was, we must still conduct ourselves with the grace and dignity he deserves. Please remember this in your protest. Michael WILL get justice, just as we knew he would in his trial. Please remember that your actions will also sway public opinion and that justice can come sooner rather than later depending on the face the fans show the world. The world can see hurt, pain, and outrage, but not the anger. All we want is justice, nothing more, nothing less. This man should be treated as anyone else would in this situation. Showing your support and love for him in such a big way will not go unnoticed. We all appreciate your unwavering support. Majestik Magnificent plans to attend the protests to show support and appreciation to the fans for all their love."

I never thought I say this, but Thanks, Mr. Jackson.

Conrad Murray Charged in Michael Jackson Death

2010-02-08T14:08:00.000-08:00

Conrad Murray Charged in Michael Jackson Death

We Really ARE Awesome!

2010-02-03T09:52:00.000-08:00

Forever can begin with you! Here’s your chance to be a part of HIStory. Jackson Family HIStory!

It is so clear that the dream every Jackson fan has is to see the legacy of love, of generosity, of genius--live forever. What better way than to dedicate a museum and performing arts theater to a family that has meant so much to millions of us all over the world?

As we carry and pass the torch of appreciation for Michael and his family onto others for the gifts they have given us and still continue to share, it seems fitting to create a lasting tribute that can preserve our most precious memories and keepsakes. Together, we can make this happen. And we can make it last forever.

Join me and other Jackson fans as we support the Michael Jackson Fan Club, in loving collaboration with the Jackson Family Foundation, in building the Jackson Family Museum, Michael Jackson Performing Arts Center and Hotel in Gary, Indiana.

For further info and to see how you can help, please go to:

MJFC/The Jackson Family Foundation

Michael Jackson’s Children Accept Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award On Father’s Behalf | Access Hollywood - Celebrity News, Photos

2010-02-01T09:30:00.001-08:00

Michael Jackson’s Children Accept Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award On Father’s Behalf | Access Hollywood - Celebrity News, Photos & Videos

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Michael Jackson

2010-01-30T07:53:00.001-08:00

Are you a fan? Are you a dot?

Has your bookcase collapsed with Jackson 5 vinyls, all manner of Jackson CDs, Michael Jackson DVDs and magazines and books galore about the Jackson Family? Oh, and what about that Michael Jackson doll from the 80's complete with Thriller outfit??

If you've answered yes, then we know you will want to join the Michael Jackson Fan Club, in loving collaboration with the Jackson Family Foundation, in creating a lasting memorial to a family that has meant so much and been so adored by fans all over the world.

The dream in our hearts is to see the hope and joy Michael and his family have brought to lives of millions everywhere standing proudly as the Jackson Family Museum, the Michael Jackson Performing Arts Theatre and hotel complex in the Jackson's hometown of Gary, Indiana. Our efforts will create a little piece of Utopia dedicated in love to Michael Jackson and the First Family of Pop, Rock and Soul.

How can you be an integral part of building this lasting tribute to the King of Pop and his famous family?

First, create another small spot on that collapsed bookcase and purchase a copy of the Limited Edition "Las Vegas Hollywood Magazine”. The magazine features Joe Jackson, patriarch of music's Royal Family, and encompasses Michael's life, the lives of his brothers and sisters and most recently, the honoring of Joe Jackson and the Jackson Family with a Brenden Celebrity Star.

The proceeds of your purchase price goes directly to the Jackson Family Foundation which will allow the memory of Michael to live forever not only in our hearts, but in a standing testimony to his and his family’s importance in our collaborative history. Each magazine comes wrapped for collectors to keep safely in mint condition and you will also receive a free "This Is It" poster with every purchase!

In appreciation for your belief in our dream, everyone who purchases a magazine will have their name added to the list of donors which will be displayed in the Michael Jackson portion of the Jackson museum. When you visit the living dream you helped create, be sure to look for your name!!

What are you waiting for? Get your copy of the Limited Edition LVH Magazine today and help make the dream of the Jackson Family Museum, Michael Jackson Performing Arts Theater and Hotel a reality in Gary, Indiana!

http://tinyurl.com/Jackson-Family-Foundation

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkEk5FEIJdE

You Are Such A Winner!

2009-11-24T20:29:00.000-08:00

Nanowrimo --- 50,000 words in 24 days! Wooo hooo!

Congrats to all the writers!

Go NaNo!

2009-10-16T13:20:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again....Halloween and then the start of NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. 50,000 words in one month. This is my third year participating, and damn it, I'm getting to 50,000!

Sign up and good luck!

www.nanowrimo.org

Unprecedented Number of Sell-Outs Reported Worldwide for First Showings of 'Michael Jackson's This Is It'

2009-09-28T14:18:00.000-07:00

Unprecedented Number of Sell-Outs Reported Worldwide for First Showings of 'Michael Jackson's This Is It'
Sure I got my tickets. I don't know what I will do to keep myself together if I go see it. I'm very conflicted. The melancholy part of me still wonders if God got some wires crossed right there the end of June. Another part tells me I'm here for SOMETHING. I'm having trouble expressing what I'm feeling, which, if you know me, is quite uncharacteristic.

I am, perhaps, in the middle of a middle age crisis.

I keep thinking of what Anne asked me as we looked at the picture of Michael on the cover of Rolling Stone -- the one with the article entitled "Hope and Ruin". She asked me, "You identify with that?"

Yes. I do.

She sent me a link of the Vanity Fair articles by Tim Russert's journalist wife. Excellently written and insightful. Very interesting and intelligent. Did they convince me that Michael was guilty of child molestation and got away with it?

No.

Do I feel that Michael might not have used the best judgement concerning certain things? Yes.

I know there are many who say Michael was predatory and knew exactly what he was doing. In my head, I turn it around. I think he was a duck in an arcade shooting game when faced with kids, especially sick kids or kids from disjointed families. His own youth made him a sitting target. Kids were his Achilles heel and indirectly contributed to his eventual demise.

So now I wonder about the movie...and what I'm gonna do. I did arrange to go with 3 women I met recently who are MJ fans to the end...which may help me get through it.

It never is good to cry alone.

This Is It...

2009-09-14T20:35:00.000-07:00

Million Fan March

2009-09-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

A wonderful lady I've bumped into along my Michael Jackson travels has started a blog to organize a fan march for MJ.

http://millionfanmarch.blogspot.com/

Just check in and say "Hi," if you're interested in taking part -- details will be worked out as it moves along.

September 3, 2009

2009-09-02T17:23:00.000-07:00

Go tender into that goodnight dear Michael. Your spirit will live forever.

Happy Birthday Michael

2009-08-29T07:54:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I understand how you feel--another birthday!

But today on Michael Jackson's 51st birthday, take a moment to be kind, to be tolerant, to help someone in need. Think love, think compassion. Think about putting yourself in someone else's shoes. No matter how you feel about MJ, it's just a good day to think about the importance of love, respect and understanding--just as it is everyday.

Happy birthday Michael!

Love You More

2009-08-19T21:19:00.001-07:00

I have been traipsing around the internet and on michaeljackson.com reading posts by people who are just overwhelmed by sadness and loss. As I am not feeling too perky myself over his loss, I thought I would take a second and post something that might help.

I didn't think about this until tonight, but I seem to be a bit older than many of the Michael Jackson fans I ran into. I grew up in the same era as Michael and only 50 miles away. I remember Michael -- and Donny (gotta love him) Osmond -- as little boys slightly younger than I. To give it some perspective, I remember running to the store to buy my first Beatles album (vinyl in mono!) for $3.00 and I also remember seeing our President shot in a car on a Dallas street on television and years later seeing his brother killed as well.

I have seen and experienced alot and have been a chronic fan most of my life (even though I've managed to have a complete life with family, kids, job, cats!!). My point is that when horrible things happen like Michael's death, it is normal to grieve and be sad. But as sad as I am, I know that eventually it gives way to a sense of amazement and gratitude--and a sense of joy. The feelings you had when you saw "Thriller" for the first time or watched him moonwalk or shook his hand or went to his concert will NEVER go away. And some day when you have your own family, you will pop that DVD in of "Scream" and tell your kids that it was completely innovative for it's time.

Sure, they may roll their eyes at you, but you know. You know what it was like when you saw it the first time. And you are gonna smile.

I guess the only way to really explain all this is for me to talk Beatles. I was absolutely heartbroken and horrified when John Lennon died. I cried so hard. I couldn't believe it. I had to pull my car over to the side of the road when a song of his would come on the radio -- or even a Beatles' song -- because it made me so awfully sad. He died several days before my birthday and I don't remember if I even celebrated.

His death, like Michael's, was unfair. I felt cheated. John Lennon had so much to live for--music to write, a family to raise. Just like Michael. And John was maligned much like Michael--his peace efforts, his nude album cover, his recordings of Yoko screaming, Yoko -- period, his drug use, his outspokenness--the FBI file on John Lennon was practically as long as a football field and he was constantly threatened with being thrown out of the U.S. His son Sean was 2 years younger than Blanket when his father was murdered.

But I can tell you with 100% certainty that the pain over Michael's death will slowly ease. I know mine will because my sadness over John Lennon's (and subsequently George Harrison's) deaths eased -- and we are talking Mount Everest of sadness. Now I go to a Beatles Convention once a year (since 1982; John died in 1980) and the message of John, George and all the Beatles---of love, kindness and peace is still very much alive. Their music is alive. The charities are still strong. The fans come and the fans bond and the fans talk and fans have fun and laugh and remember. Now, the fans bring their children and there is a whole new generation of Beatles' fans...and there is alot of love.

So it will be with Michael, as hard as it is to believe now when his loss is so close. His legacy of love and caring and his incredible talent will live forever. You will be so incredibly grateful to have been a part of it that there will be a time you will put in "Michael Jackson Number Ones" and not have tears flood your eyes. You will actually smile and laugh and call your kids in and help them learn a dance step or two (while they think you are crazy) or amaze them that you still know all the words to "Beat It". There is a continuum and a constancy that is comforting. I rocked my babies to sleep with Beatles' songs and you will rock yours to sleep with Michael Jackson songs.

With Michael, we've all been a part of something amazing that will never happen again. Just as there will never be another Beatles' or another John Lennon or George Harrison, there will never be another Michael Jackson. And for all of us, we are so grateful that we've learned when someone says "I love you", we answer: "I love you more".

Speaking of Universal Translator

2009-08-18T08:12:00.001-07:00

I met with a person from our company's IT department, and somehow Star Trek and Captain Kirk was mentioned. I am always up for a Star Trek/Captain Kirk discussion, even in the middle of a work day. Anyway, this IT person was talking about how computers "talk" to one another (I still don't get it, but I've got IT--do I REALLY need to "get" it?) and he used the idea of the Star Trek "Universal Translator".

Well, he started it. It wasn't ME who mentioned Star Trek.

I interjected with one of the enormous questions that have plagued me since 1966. And that is: Star Trek is based on going "where no man has gone before". Is that right? And yet, they had a universal translator which communicated with beings that they have never even had contact with. For example...you are going in space. You end up at Omega Triphon 17, where NO ONE had visited before. On Omega Triphon 17, they speak Zilliswanni, which has no written alphabet. BUT! The universal translator is gonna figure it out so those speaking zilliswanni can understand you and you can understand them?

Really?

I think Gene Roddenberry took TONS of literary license with that piece of equipment.

At the Very Least

2009-08-17T18:28:00.001-07:00

Michael Jackson's death has caused me to write more, blog more. Which is good for me. There is the floating theory that I am using this to distract me from my current set of problems, but I'm not so sure that it's a bad thing. I really am stuck in the camp that going through my feelings about MJ's death have liberated some of my glossed over neuroses.

But anyway, should fans wish to find a place to share, go to www.michaeljackson.com. There are forums and lots and lots of cool things. Great pics, terrific links, stuff, updates and even a conspiracy theorist who showed up today. I'm not sure though if he is trying to prove that Michael Jackson died months ago or is still alive. Part of the beauty of this website is that it is filled with people from all over the world and I've learned that some things get lost in the universal translator.

MJ Death Blues, Reprise

2009-08-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend at BeatleFest *(Don't Ever Call It BeatleFest Again) and laughed my ass off with my oldest and dearest, Anne. Ronnie Spector (jail-bird Phil's ex) was there and didn't seem to impart any sadness over the imprisonment of her one-time husband. We didn't get a chance to ask her how many times he brandished a gun at her. Since she was in lock down most of the time, maybe he didn't have to wave a gun at her face.

The Hudson Brothers were there also. Always a treat! Anne said a couple stories had the ring of old vaudeville routines, but even if so, they were delivered with the Hudson particular brand of humor. And no need to mention Martin Lewis or Wally or Terri. I purchased several teen magazines from the 1960's and we laughed ourselves nearly to death as we looked back into our teenybopper lives.

But Anne and I had several long discussions about my recent posts and the Michael Jackson Death Blues. One thing became apparent. She will take over my life as I seem to have gone down the Stony End.

I don't really have any problem with that. Anne always has my best interests at heart. I know that. She has since she was 6--and it is always so clear to me when we talk for hours on end that she is a much better friend to me than I am to her. She always puts others before herself...and she is as smart as she is funny. Her heart is never in any place but a kind one.

After I dropped her off at home, I thought about some of the things we talked about. We had a discussion about Michael Jackson and she feels in her heart of hearts that he is/was a predatory human being who prayed on young boys. In her eyes, the travesty is that no one believed those boys whom he damaged--whether it was physically or emotionally. It falls right into the idea that female rape victims were historically brushed under the rug and not believed either.

When my son came home one day from baseball practice and wanted to quit because of sexually inappropriate remarks from his high school coach to the team, I of course believed him. I ended up going to the school board and making a formal complaint, for which I got some apology in a letter that was 4 lines long and a total joke. But Sean was off the team and that was that.

I think it is mandatory for adults to listen to children and believe them. I believe it is mandatory for police and hospital employees to believe a woman who says she has been raped.

So how can I believe Michael Jackson? Was he a victim of his own life? Yes. Did he set himself up for potential trouble? Yes. Did he intentionally hurt anyone? I think not, but people who's opinions I trust and admire believe he was a pedophile. And yes, a jury of his peers found him innocent in 2004--but the justice system is not infallible. So what do I think? How do I reconcile that I feel children should be believed and yet I feel that MJ was largely innocent?

I think I will not think about it. We love who we love. As the Elvis Presley fans have told the Michael Jackson fans, focus on the music and the dancing and the entertainer and the humanitarian. I believe I will place Michael Jackson in a separate compartment of genius and uniqueness. For if there is one thing I know, he is the last of his kind. There will never,ever, be another like him.

And I'll be damned....but his loss still bothers me. Perhaps it's our wires crossing at Anesthesia Avenue and Xanax Boulevard, I don't know. I do know that no matter what, Anne will get to the bottom of it.

MJ Death Blues, Side 2

2009-08-10T17:54:00.001-07:00

As I continue down the rabbit hole of my own insanity, further analysis of the case of MJ’s death may indicate that the stupid, inept, moron of a doctor probably killed him---with stuff that Michael wanted anyway. I’m sure the doctor didn’t tie him to the bed and force the IV in his arm against his will. You can argue that Michael was genuinely ill with a sleep disorder and panic and depression and anorexia and didn’t get the help he needed. That’s true. But he might not have wanted the help either—drugs are faster than years of medical tests and therapy. There’s a lot of gray areas there surrounding professional responsibility and personal responsibility. And, in his case, celebrity. Being a celebrity didn’t help Michael Jackson one bit.

All this reminds me of the John Belushi drama. The woman who supplied the drugs that he took of his own free will ended up paying a price too. If you drive drunk, the person who supplied the liquor is responsible too. But that doctor had a professional responsibility that he completely ignored. His creed says “First, do no harm”. And for that…and for all of them that did that….may they all rot in hell (preceeded by a nice stint in jail).

Back to the issue though. Don’t get me wrong. I love anesthesia. Wouldn’t have an operation without it. Working in medicine and being a chronic patient, I know how anesthesia works. I know how it feels. Some knock you out flat. Some give you moments of a type of relaxation just before oblivion that is something that can't be found in nature. Slipping away and not coming back is what I wanted. Slipping away for a nice long nap and waking up for another day is what Michael wanted. Maybe God switched the wires and something got lost in translation.

But no matter what, I wouldn’t hook it up to my vein in the privacy of my own home even with a doctor there. Common sense tells you that it just has some kind of bad. That it’s supposed to be used in a hospital cuz people smarter than you with initials after their names said so—probably after many mishaps. But all of this is really water under the bridge, which brings me to my next point:

It is clear to me considering the circumstances between me and MJ that he reached the Bridge of San Luis Rey before I did. We read that story in school -- it’s a Thornton Wilder Pulitzer prize winner from the 1920’s. The story surrounds a group of people who, by chance, meet at a rope suspension bridge. The bridge collapses and everyone is killed. The Father who witnesses the accident begins to find out about each of the people who were killed and discovers they were all at points in their lives when they were looking forward. They had let the hurts and disappointments of the past go and they were focused on a goal in front of them. The issue then stands --- did they die at the perfect time for them? With no fear of their past and only forward to go? And as it is with death—it’s always sadder for those of us left behind---does it make it doubly sadder that we missed out on their triumphs?

Don’t look at me. I have no idea. I find it hard enough to deal with MJ and my karma trains crashing at the anesthesia crossing. But I think this story defines what happened to Michael Jackson better than anything and makes me feel good for him, bad for me. It seems that with the O2 announcement, he was looking ahead. Putting the past behind. And he knew his fans still loved and wanted to see him. He had his children and it appears, a plan for their future as a family. It does seem that he even had a plan to get his health back.

Of course, we don’t know. We like to analyze and pray and speculate and ruminate to help us get past painful things. To help make sense of them.

I don’t know if I understand why our paths crossed the way they did. It could, in the words of David Steinberg, just be God’s will… “and that mystical sense of humor that is only His.”

MJ Death Blues

2009-08-10T14:46:00.000-07:00

I'm working on it, ok?

I should first explain I am indeed an MJ fan. Stating that is quick sand and understandably so. He tried the patience out of all of us. However, I spent untold time and energy preserving who Michael Jackson was to me. Several years just didn't happen--like say, 1993, and almost completely from 2003 to 2009. I told Anne once that it is my God-given right as an American to turn MJ off the television. Any good fan should have....because it preserved him as a true wonderment. And maybe I'm mourning that wonderment now.

He was a true dancing, singing miracle in "Thriller". He was sexy but safe (thrusting pelvis aside) in "The Way You Make Me Feel", "Bad" -- the short and the full 18 minutes and "Beat It" -- showed sides of him we didn't know before. I was never that crazy about "Billie Jean" -- but I loved those white socks and loafers dancing down the lighted sidewalk floor. Then I remember watching the "Black and White" Panther version and thinking: I wish I could slap him. What the hell is he thinking? Apparently John Landis thought the same thing and it was re-edited without the violence at the end. Here, I thought--ok. He'll be ok. But no. It was vitiligo (not his fault of course, but it was ONE MORE THING). Then surgeries on the nose...and his discovery of the Lancome counter. Then the Beatles catalog (a shrewd business move, but McCartney was his FRIEND), then court and rehab...then Lisa Marie and are they or aren't they?...and then I don't know what else. I remember Anne trying to talk to me about the Bashir interview, which I never saw until after his death. I had just stopped looking. Michael Jackson reverted to that sexy but safe guy chasing the girl down the street. I'm no dummy. I know where to land my fantasies where they are safe and sound.

I stuck a toe in every so often, careful to guard my fantasy. And he didn't always make me run for my 1980's cover. I loved "In The Closet". I saw the "You Rock My World" video and the director's attempt at hiding MJ's face only distracted from his great dancing. I loved "Blood on the Dance Floor" and thought he looked absolutely great. But then that cover of Ebony? He did that on purpose! And that face on the mug shot from the 2005 trial? It was something created from fear and isolation...pain and illness. Way too much reality for me.

I heard about his appearances on music shows, read about his comings and goings. I knew he was alive and walking and talking somewhere or another. I heard he was a great dad. I, like everyone else, wanted to see pictures of his kids. But then I wondered how he could tell his children they had no mother....and oooppppps.....too close. Reel it in, boys....back to my man in "The Way You Make Me Feel." Phew. Thanks.

I grew up with the Jacksons and the Osmonds--me, Donny and MJ hit 50 within a year or so of each other. "Stop the Love" is one of my all time favorite songs and it was put on my iPod from day 1. I worked in disco radio back in the day and "Rock with You" was practically our theme song. I heard it 250 times a week.

So perhaps my problem stems from: exceptional bad timing and an incredibly well honed fantasy system that had MJ stuck in the 1980's disguised as a healthy, happy guy in his 20's. No illness, no trials, no identity issues, no (more) plastic surgery, no cosmetics.

Now I have been inundated with the misery and mystery of this human being that I froze in time. It's like I never knew him at all--which I didn't. (Yes, even my fantasy brain knows I don't know Michael Jackson AT ALL). So armed with all this new information, I want to understand because I'm sorry I didn't before. I know there will never, ever be another like him. For good or bad. And in the back drop, I will never, ever be a young girl watching a young boy and his brothers sing on tv, or a young woman working at a radio station with her life in front of her, or a young mother dancing with her little one to a Jackson 5 song.

Maybe I went to a place where what has gone before is more interesting than what lies ahead.

I'm Apparently Not Done

2009-08-10T12:46:00.000-07:00

Sure, in the previous post I said "And that's all I have to say about that", but if you know me, I've always got more to say. Especially if I have all the time in the world to say it.

Anne has told me that I need to blog my way out of the MJ Death Blues. I am incredibly sad and can't believe I am fixating this way. I know what you are thinking: and yes. I've had my meds adjusted.

What can I say?

You won't believe what I can say.

I believe his death hit me at the wrong time. I was home just post-surgery. I was watching the news and began listening from the moment someone mentioned that Michael Jackson was being taken from his home to the hospital "apparently in a coma". I really thought it was going to be a Karen Carpenter situation. If you don't remember, she died from complications from anorexia. I'd seen Michael over these last months. He looked frail and not well at all while being wheel-chaired through Vegas. And I thought it was very suspect that when he announced the O2 gig, he was fairly well covered. Big glasses, hair around his face. You can't really "get" a person if you can't see their face--particularly their eyes. If he was gung-ho, ready to go, London-here-I-come, you would have seen it in his eyes -- but we couldn't.

But besides that, I have been tossing around my own demons and having a particularly tough and rough time with depression. My panic disorder, funny enough, seemed to be under control, prompting me to think: do I need to choose between bouncing off the walls at 2am in a sweaty panic or laying on the couch wishing I was invisible? But anyway, in a fit of depression, I wished that once I went under the anesthesia for surgery, that I just wouldn't wake up. I asked God. I wanted it. It was time on my clock.

Not on God's however. I woke up. And several days later, Michael Jackson allegedly used anesthesia to just get a good night's rest. And never woke up.

You can see here that the timing was bad...can't you? Our karma trains crashed. But why? I don't get it either.

Michael

2009-07-31T00:10:00.001-07:00

My feelings over his loss are more awful than I ever would have anticipated. I am truly heart broken...for me, for his fans, for his friends and family. And that's all I have to say about that.

Atta Girl!

2009-05-24T05:31:00.000-07:00

See this horse? Beauty, isn't she? Well, one just like her pitched my daughter off during a horse riding lesson.

While I saw in an instant how our lives could have changed and had a vision of Christopher Reeve in my head, I sat quietly in the background and allowed her trainer to handle the situation. Erin was shaken up and bumped up, but her trainer handled it very well. Had her shake it off, talked her through it and immediately got her back on the horse. If I were Erin, I'm not sure wild horses could have gotten me back on that animal. But Erin is a tough cookie. I know that underneath the tantrums and mood swings and lashing out, there lives a tough broad. Enormously tougher than her mother or her brother.

I was so proud of her and I told her. She was still shaking a bit, but she walked her horse back to the barn and started to take off the saddle and bridle. As her next lesson was canceled because of the holiday, her teacher told me that if Erin wanted, we could work in a lesson during the week, or just wait the 2 weeks. I figured I would just ask her later. But while untacking her horse, Erin asked when her next lesson was. A part of me feared that she would want to stop riding because of the fall. But when I told her she could wait 2 weeks or we could see if her teacher could squeeze in a lesson another day next week, Erin wanted to ride and not miss a week.

Again, I was so proud of her.

And I was so proud of me. You have no idea how much I wanted to run out into that arena and pick Erin up. But I knew I couldn't. I wouldn't--unless the trainer asked me to come over.

I told Erin later that the worst part is over. She doesn't have to be afraid of falling off the horse ever again. She did it and she was fine...and I told her one of the most important thing about riding a horse is knowing how to fall off.

And my daughter did it like a champ.

Carry On My Wayward Son

2009-05-19T05:20:00.000-07:00

Today I began the journey of pushing my son out of the nest. You may recall the horror of the last oh, 2 - 2-1/2 years. Depression, anxiety, anorexia, doctors, hospitalization, vicious mood swings, pot, speeding tickets, possession of cannabis. Sean never really withdrew from me or his friends completely---and maybe that's what kept him alive. There were times I couldn't get a hold of him and I was sure he was dead. A suicide. My dear sweet son. There are times still when I think that if anything happened to my kids, I wouldn't survive it.

But here we are today. Today Sean is on his way to Phoenix to work with 2 friends on a CD of original music, to jam, to play music all night, to enjoy, to work on setting up some band concerts over the summer and have fun. He will be staying with a friend and his mom. I haven't met the mom, but I trust Sean's instincts. Besides...he will be 19 in 5 days. He's got a credit card and a cell phone. He can get home if he needs to.

The plan is for him to stay out there about 2 weeks. As I sit here this morning just after waving goodbye to my young man, I realize that we have never been apart that long in our lives. Sure he was supposed to spend a couple of weeks over the summer with his dad---but THAT never happened. A long weekend yes....2 weeks? No. There was a 10 day trip to Florida with his friends last year, but this seems different somehow.

You may be saying to yourself....Dear God, how dysfunctional! But I think being so close became a double edged sword. Maybe it contributed to his hard time breaking away. But maybe it kept him alive too---all the times I sat up all night talking to him and going to work exhausted were well worth it.

Last Saturday, Sean and I went to lunch and to see the movie "Star Trek". Just him and me. It was a birthday present and a going away present. I think when my son comes back home, it will just be a pit stop on his way forward. The thought makes me cry and laugh at the same time.

You're Skewed

2009-05-05T12:11:00.000-07:00

I've had a whammy (that is an official "informal" substitute for epiphany). I have a closet full of beautiful clothes that I do not wear. Wool suits, lovely Laura Ashley dresses, sweaters of all colors and Pendelton skirts. I mean, really, really nice stuff. Coats. My mother's camel haired coat and an black lambswool that would keep you warm to -120 degrees.

May I mention shoes? I'm by no means a shoe-aholic, but I have nice higher heeled shoes in all colors. And purses? Please. Let's not go there.

So why are they in my closet?

I'll tell you.

But FIRST, why. Why now? Why look at this stuff today, as opposed to say, 2 weeks ago, and think about it completely differently?

I don't know. I do know that I had to empty a closet full of those clothes when a pipe broke in the back wall. And as I looked at them, they were beautiful reminders of my parents, of my youth, of shopping with my dad, of who I wanted to be, of who I was at 25 and a size 8.

When I looked up Laura Ashley and Pendelton online, I realized the clothes I held onto were not only 4 sizes too small, but were considered "nostalgic".

Yea. No kidding.

Those clothes remind me of my dad telling me to buy quality, not quantity; they reminded me of looking young and sharp, they reminded me of being a size 8, they reminded me of a time I wasn't worried about mortgages or kids or long term care insurance. They reminded me of a time I could drink all night and jump out of bed looking like I'd been to the spa.

Yessirree, they reminded me of a time that was long, long ago. But I held onto them not wanting to admit I aged, not wanting to admit that size 8 is something I'll never see again, not wanting to admit that I wasn't going to be a high powered executive who needed snappy suits to match her snappy comebacks.

There sure was alot of weight in that closet.

So I've decided to give some away and sell some and maybe keep an item or two (instead of 30 or 40). I haven't quite given up on seeing a size 8 again--hope springs eternal. However, should my scale ever go counterclockwise again, I have promised myself and my dad a brand new suit.

You've GOT to be Kidding Me

2009-04-28T12:44:00.000-07:00

Last year my ex took me to court in order to "get relief" from child support. Ok, fine. Sean hit 18. Never mind he's still at home healing from an emotional problem and finally inching back to his old self. He got his GED...and is finally looking at college again. But, you know, whatever.

As a sidebar to this pathetic story, I never went after my ex for more money, never asked to see his W-2's to get a hike in child support when his salary increased. I figured....whatever. It was fine. Let it go--it all works out in the end.

So I get a letter from his attorney stating that he is looking at severe financial hardship this year. Well, the economy is suffering -- ok, I get it. He's looking at a 25% cut in salary and a reduction of hours from 40 to 35 a week. I'm reading along and I get to the last point. Something about me paying his attorney and court costs.

Like that's gonna happen.

Then I get a sob-story email about how he can't pay for summer camp for Erin at the YMCA. It's too "cost prohibitive". He's not paying for her horseback riding lessons either. Never mind that it's a healthy outlet for someone with ADHD and anxiety.

Then I see his paystub from last year showing he made $15,000 more than what his monthly child support was based on. So in other words, he paid for an attorney to get relief from a child support payment that was based on a salary that was $15,000 less than what he made. Who's missing something here?

When I showed my attorney, he laughed himself out of his chair. He figures that with owing me back support from last year and adjusting his current salary with a 25% decrease, he will end up owing me almost MORE than he paid before he asked for "relief".

As Anne says, "What a cluck."

Oh, and don't worry. I won't have to pay his attorney or court costs. He just may end up paying mine.

Go Get 'Em Colin

2009-03-26T12:28:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine had told me to read "An American Journey" by Colin Powell because she had enjoyed the book far more than she had thought she would. I took the book, it sat in my TBR (to be read) pile and I didn't give it much thought.

Then I decided to pick it up and browse. I got hooked.

My family isn't a military family in the formal sense -- but my grandpa was in WWI, my dad in WW2, an uncle in Korea and a cousin in VietNam -- and I was raised to honor our military and the men and women who serve. War isn't their fault.

And I'll be honest. I was raised during the Viet Nam War and understand more about WWII and Korea than I do Viet Nam. But this book really isn't about war. It's about a man's journey through the military, through war and peace, through his life. And an exceptional life it is.

There are lessons about family and honor and life and duty and respect and courage and fear. It is one good read.

Take This Number Down

2009-03-17T08:23:00.000-07:00

For those of you really struggling with your mortgage, there's an organization called Hope Now. They will work with your mortgage company on your behalf to renegotiate -- maybe a refi, maybe a short term reduction in the interest rate. I know when I called my bank for information, since I'm current on my mortgage, I was basically SOL.

But I have mountains of medical bills that I drown in every month. Perhaps a short term lowering of my mortgage rate would help me get out from under.

Anyway, when you go to their website, you need to fill out a form with your mortgate info and basic rundown of where your money goes. Food, medical, utilities, car payment, etc. Then you will hear within 5-7 days if they can help you.

www.hopenow.com
1-888-995-HOPE

It's free.

Welcome Fred!

2009-03-16T23:19:00.000-07:00

Yes, for god's sake -- it's a rat. A RAT!

My Dear Sweet Sam's son, Thomas, is a rat afficionado. There was Roxy and a nameless one, Grande, and now....Fred. Thomas saved Fred moments before becoming snake food for his friend's enormous boa and I admire that.

Now I'll be honest here. The first time I saw Roxy, I could have screamed and stepped on her. But then....I don't know. I went soft. The tail still grosses me out to no end, but the rest of them is so sweet and soft and cuddly. We'd take the rat out in the summer when we had locusts and the little rat would eat the locusts! Which was fine by me. I hate those damn things.

But I have come to love rats. They don't live long - 3 years tops, but they are great pets surprisingly enough. Clean, affectionate, smart.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go buy some Yogurt Dip treats for Fred. We found out recently that Fred is actually Fredericka, and she needs her calcium.

I'm a Good Mom!

2009-03-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

My Erin will be 13 this year. I can't believe it! I had to think of something to give her that she would never forget. And I found it.

She and I are going to the Drake Bell concert. Just the 2 of us.

I'm a good Mom, right? Or am I going because I want to relive the Bobby Sherman concert Anne and I went to in 1969? Am I going because I never got to see the Beatles up close in concert? Or am I going to remember the time I saw Andy Gibb or Shaun Cassidy or even, dare I say it? Frank Sinatra!!!

I asked Anne if it would be okay if I listened to something else on my iPod at the concert or if that would be RUDE!! But really. Can't I listen to "Shadow Dancin" or "Julie Do You Love Me" or whatever Shaun Cassidy sang or "All the Way"? I mean -- you know -- to take me back?

Nah. I'll enjoy it. He's cute (really -- look at him!), talented and Erin LOVES him. She and I will see him together and she'll never forget it.

Neither will I.

This is His Idea

2009-03-13T11:01:00.000-07:00

My DSS (Dear Sweet Sam) works with a man named Harry, who has come up with a fool proof method for surviving in this economic environment.

He makes about $75,000 a year. He lives with his girlfriend and her daughter in a condo. He has nasty debt from gambling and a court order making him pay back $25,000 to a women he dated, dumped and never looked back at. But Mr. Judge said, "Pay Back Time". Harry thought, "Bitch."

But Harry has had it. Poor Harry. Struggling to pay off gambling debts and the "bitch" he borrowed money from -- for damn's sake, he had to get a second job! It's too much. And the girlfriend he lives with? She can't hold a job if her life depended on it!!

So what has he decided to do?

Just stop paying his mortgage. It's now barely worth what he bought it for anyway...and well, what the hell. He figures he can save 6 months worth of mortgage payments before the bank repossesses and he can take the money and whittle down his gambling debts -- and hide some money under the girlfriend's name. Then he'll file for bankruptcy, get off the hook, get help from the government and start all over. Never mind those people who honestly, truly need the help.

Makes you want to puke, doesn't it?

Changes, They are a Comin'

2009-03-13T00:02:00.000-07:00

I see alot more of this...

and alot more of that in my future.

I wish I didn't love the things I do. They are all bad for me. Bad. I have an unhealthy relationship with food, which goes along with all the other unhealthy relationships I've had.

Dean Ornish wrote that book called "Love and Survival" and he was interviewing a woman like me--overweight, she drank and she smoked. He asked her why she did things things to herself when she knew they would shorten her life. She answered, "What the hell do I care living an extra 10 years when I can't get through tomorrow?"

That my friends, is the rub.

Work = Stress = Eat = High Blood Pressure

2009-03-12T23:29:00.000-07:00

Today I went to work after the business meeting nightmare. I had an early meeting with my boss's boss (COO of the ultramegamedical conglomerate) who was very understanding of my battle in the office.

Anyway, as I headed back to the office (after picking up Erin who got sick at school, parking myself in my own bathroom for 20 minutes (antibiotics....), I got to work and immediately started to feel..."off". It's the only way I can describe it. OFF. And then my left arm started to hurt which for any heart attack surviver is like some someone pouring gasoline over your head and approaching you with a lit match. Am I gonna get it? Am I not gonna get it?

So I decided to have my blood pressure taken by one of the nurses. It was a hefty 160/100 on the first run, 158/98 on the second. I took klonopin and within 2 hours, it was down to 131/82 and then a delightful 119/75.

Erin and I went out for a bit where we ran into some credit card disaster. I went to buy milk and my credit card wouldn't work because they had noticed a fishy transaction on it (which turned out they were right) and put a hold on my card. So I got home and fixed that. Then I noticed my cat Mena is missing. I've called her and called her both inside and outside the house. She must have slipped out -- so anyway after looking for her I sat down for awhile and took my BP again. 141/94 first try, 138/92 on the second. 132/82 after deep breathing with my eyes closed, another klonopin, 2 aspirin and a celexa.

Could this be my wake up call? I don't know. I'd love to spend a week at the Duke Health Hospital in North Carolina. Then I thought I could take a week off and do it myself at home. Order food from Seattle Sutton. Gentle workouts everyday. Meet with a dietician. Meditation. A massage or two. And it wouldn't be as expensive as going to The Duke with it's $3000 price tag. But I'm worth it right? Yea, right.

In today's eonomony I'm struggling to pay for my 6 week hair cut and touch up. I just CAN'T give up on that. CAN'T. I'll starve first. Which isn't likely.

So what I'll do....I don't know. I need to take care of myself and I'm not good at it.

But I'll try.

Work = Stress = Eat

2009-03-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong. I like my job. I feel like a make a difference. 80% of the time, I don't mind getting up and going to work. I think those are pretty good odds.

But there's one thing I don't understand.

When I'm at home, day off, putzing around, I NEVER overeat. Weekends? I'm fine. The second I go to work on Monday, I'm looking for anything to shove into my mouth. I'm not even hungry and I'm searching out something to eat.

It's like a disease.

For example. I work for 4 doctors. One has decided that I am the reason for the stock market crash, her failing marriage, her sick kids, the fact that her husband lost his job, world hunger and paper jams. Ok. Fine. Whatever. But THEN, she had the nerve to pile up on me at a business meeting. She's done it before and both times I held my own (BTW, she double-teamed my boss also) but afterward I threw a Big Mac down my throat faster than you can say "heart attack on a sesame seed bun".

I was so poised in the meeting. No one would have known that I was so angry except my boss, whom I'm predicting might have thrown a Big Mac down his throat too. She told him that she had discussed this "issue" with the other docs, but didn't include him. He's the president of the practice. C'mon. Really. But she did it to get the other 2 physicians on her side, because she knows the president and I are in agreement about the issue she's concerned with. At that is.....she wants us to hire her kids to work in the office over the summer. Hello? Nepotism calling. And as I had to police her daughter last summer ("file? I don't file...") I wasn't looking forward to babysitting both her son and daughter THIS summer.

I was saved however, by the ultramegamedical conglomerate that we merged with last June. No hiring of the kin in the same office. I told her we could get them a job in the company, just not at the office. What the frick is the difference? Well, she didn't like my answer, ladies and gentlemen. So I am the evil one.

She is a pain in the ass, has no understanding of the term "group" practice and has never, ever, given anyone a compliment at the office. She's miserable, self centered, a blow-hard and has told the other physicians that I'm "out to get her."

Please. Me? I've got enough on my damn plate. Besides, I avoid confrontation. I HATE it. But if you corner me, like she did at the meeting, you won't get me to back down. I back down in the privacy of my own car as we whiz through the drive thru.

I know. It's bad. It's not healthy. The only person I'm hurting is myself. I KNOW this. But she pissed me off and well, I ate.

Perhaps I should just accept this and move on, realizing that acknowledgment of your eating disorder is the first step.

uh huh. Ok. Sure. Anybody got the number to Weight Watchers?

Romper Room

2009-03-11T21:59:00.000-07:00

I went to Romper Room today and looked through the mirror. I saw Mary and Susie and ... well, they were all younger than me.

BUT....this is a big advantage when it comes to going back to school. Enormous. For nearly the first time in my life, I am not intimidated, I'm not afraid, I'm not concerned. I'll be fine.

I am stunned by all the help college students have now that I never did before. You can download manuscript templates that will format your entire paper, including citations and references. No more index cards with the books and magazines you referenced all written out in longhand. Nope. You push a button here, plug in a term there and WHOOSH --- term paper. It corrects your spelling, grammar. The only thing it cannot do anything about is your brain. I take that back. Before you send in your paper, you can email it to the writing resource center for someone to critique it BEFORE you send it in!! I REFUSE to use it. I refuse on principle. What that principle is, I don't know. But I'm still not using it.

Not only do you submit papers individually, but you also work on teams. My team sent in the rough draft of a paper we were working on to the writing center. It came back in good shape which is fine because I'm not sure I would have taken their advice how to change anything I had written. Maybe I'd do it for the benefit of the group, but for me.....N-O. I'll take my term paper red mark lashings like a man.

Another point....our team of 3 women has one that is....well, her personality is very opinionated, pushy, dominant, Type A. And her Type A came up against my Type B easy going, harmonizer, let's be nice personality. Years ago, I would have backed off of her rather pointed postings, but now? What's she gonna do? Erase me? Ha! I let her have it right back. If there's one thing I can do, it's write like a smart-ass.

And so far, I must be doing something right. My first class? A-. So far in my second class? A. So for those of you returning to school -- go for it. You'll be fine. Trust me. I can see you.

I Miss You

2009-03-07T17:38:00.000-08:00

I miss blogging! Between suffering the worst bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder I've ever had in my entire life--and kids and work and a social life and school -- well time is short, you know? But there are some things I want to accomplish this year and one of them is blogging again faithfully. I miss it for me.

Since the temperature has risen above 5 degrees and the sun is out semi-regularly and there is the hint of "green acres" in the air, I am feeling much better. Winter just DOES something to me. The holidays DO something to me. My plan, instead of moving to California permanently is to be out there for Christmas. I don't care if it costs me my house, car and kids. I won't go through another winter like I just did. It started after Thanksgiving and took me to -- ummmm.... -- March 1. If I can spend the holidays with my cousins, I think it will help me. We'll see. We'll see if I have a job come December and what a flight to CA costs.

We are all going in July when my little cousin turns a whopping 40. That's all set. Now I just have to keep checking over Christmas. Another winter like this one and I'll never make it to 2010.

2009-01-19T13:17:00.001-08:00

I was thinking about the new year and decided that I was never going to speak of 2008 again. I wanted to wash the slate clean and start something new.

So I decided to go back to school.

Sure. Tell me I'm crazy. Like I don't know that already. But the University of Phoenix was screaming at me to try, once again, to get a degree in SOMETHING. I have majored in many things over my life: bio-chemistry, english, teaching, radio/tv. And I've been in medical administration the longest. So....a Bachelor of Science in Health Administration sounds good, doesn't it? Well....doesn't it? What's 18 straight months without a break? Right?

I start tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Psycho - The Reality Series

2008-12-29T21:38:00.000-08:00

I have a private blog that I call "At the Trough...Notes on Relationships, Eating, Depression, and other bad things" where I run through the stuff that no one, including my mother, would think sane. I mean I'm not Norma Bates.....but my life is (quoting a friend's 4 year old nephew concerning his relationships at preschool) confusing...and very complicated.

I've written posts about my kids troubles, my troubles. I'd like to chronicle my journey to a different life in California. Yes, I'm nuts. Yes, I will have many, many hurdles to jump, but I know going there is the best thing for me. I won't survive here. Whether it's the weather or missing my family or whatever.

Part of this comes from the bottom line realization that the man I've been with for 6 years doesn't want to marry me or plan a non-married life with me. I've known that for about 2 years and I accepted and went with it. It was very painful when he told me his reasons. It was painful, but I understood. But my children are my children, good or bad, sick or well, perfect or not. He could learn about their emotional problems....or learn how to help or deal with them, but he doesn't/won't/can't. That's ok. But it's time for me to move on. Move on from here, move on from that relationship that won't go anywhere.

If I tell him why I want to leave and he does make an offer of living together, I don't think I want to do that. I don't want to marry him either. He told me how he felt about the kids and that won't ever go away. If he had said something about down the road....if he had ever mentioned our future together once everyone was grown and on their own...well, maybe it would be different. But I'm not a last choice, I'm not a forced hand. I'm worth so much more. And I forget that on a regular basis.

So....my California Dreamin' first goal is moving 7/1/2010. I've got a house to pack and sell, a life to plan, my daughter's hysterical outbursts to plan for and handle.

Perhaps this will finally get me to lift my rear end from the sofa.

California Dreamin' Part 2

2008-12-29T20:37:00.000-08:00

And that's dreaming on several different levels.

I just applied for a job on-line at a Palm Springs Hospital. It's an interesting job and one I know I could handle. I have the skills and the experience. I, however, live in Chicago. That's approximately a 1700 mile drive. Talk about a commute.

I sincerely doubt that there is no one else in the State of California that could fill this job post. That's why I'm sure I won't get an offer....BUT.....I'm dreaming.

Dreaming of leaving Chicago (which is a beautiful city, BTW) and being near my family in southern California. Dreaming of a better/different life for me because of the support of my family, dreaming of a better/different life for my kids. I think I can be a better parent, a happier person, if I were near my family.

Sure. Be a killjoy. I know the problems I have here will follow me where ever I go (save snow shoveling and trying to open the car door after it's been frozen shut), but I think I could handle things better with my family near me. But once again, it's a Sophie's Choice. Only the choice is between what's good for me and what's probably better for my kids. Specifically my daughter. It might be hard on her to get uprooted and start a new life. And perhaps my cats whiskers might be disjointed for a day or two. But I want to go. I want to go. I want to be able to take a ride on a Saturday and see my cousin. I want to be able to call my cousin if I'm in the hospital and need someone. I have friends here....but it's just not the same. Unless you are in my shoes, it's hard to explain that need....that connection. The older I get, the stronger it is.

And I hear you. Do that Pro/Con thing. But really it comes down to worry, fear, choices. Just like everything else in life. And lately, I wouldn't trust myself to think my way out of a paper bag.

And I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues.....

2008-12-24T12:55:00.000-08:00

The holidays. I know. Empty for some, hectic for others. Lonely for some, too many people for others. Me? Right now, I’d be happy if I never had to see anyone until next Sunday, when Anne and I are going to the movies to see Don Draper in “The Day The Earth Stood Still”.

Depressed? I guess. Christmas blahs? Maybe. Tired of the commercialization? Not really – you either get what Christmas is about or you don’t.

Christmas’s when I was younger were smaller, quieter affairs after my grandparents, aunt and cousin moved to California in the early 60’s. It was usually me, my mom and dad and the family pets. A nice Christmas eve dinner and gifts, then usually a viewing of “The Quiet Man” on WGN.

We never went all that crazy at Christmas. My dad worked Christmas Eve until 2, then went to this higher end girls’ and women’s clothing store and bought one gift for my mom and one gift for me before they closed at 4. No cheapskate he, it was usually a cashmere sweater or a wool blazer or a silk blouse or something that set him back a pretty penny even though he was only buying two things. My dad taught me quality over quantity always.

Christmas Day we sometimes went to visit friends, sometimes we just stayed home. It didn’t matter to me. I had my stuff from Santa, my cat, a safe place to lay my head, parents who loved me. I was fine.

I was fine even after my parents died because I had small kids to plan for. I always tried to spend some time alone at Christmas in memory of my parents. I had my boo-hoo, then got right back up and made things nice for my family.

I’m not exactly sure why – maybe because the kids are older, maybe because I’m older, maybe because I’m tired of holding everything together through a bad marriage, a horrible divorce, illnesses – but I need to find a place to lay my head once again. I’m not sure what that means right now. My heart is tired, my soul is old. The body and spirit are both weak.

As I’ve believed and been told numerous times, All Things Must Pass. Nothing is permanent. It’s temporary. But is it temporary in the space of a lifetime or temporary in terms of the entire history of the universe? Since God is infinite and limitless, does He understand that temporary to ME might be a lot different than temporary to HIM?

I’ve been blessed with many, many things. Don’t get me wrong. I am extremely grateful for my friends and children; my job, my home, the pets who have warmed my lap over the years. I’ve tried to maintain a perky outlook on life because I’m basically an optimistic person and believed George Harrison. And I’ve sometimes struggled to keep my head afloat – but somehow I did.

I’m just not sure I can do it anymore. This isn’t like a suicide shout. This is like an admission that life and reality have chewed me up and spit me out. Will I ever laugh again? Yes. Will I enjoy life? Perhaps. But me and life have had a running showdown and I lost. To be completely fair, I gave it a good run for its money.

Here Comes the Son

2008-12-09T20:27:00.001-08:00

And I say, sometimes it's all right and sometimes it's not.

Look at that picture. Young man—high school graduate, college bound. Smiling, well nourished. Bright, shining future. Well, if your Son looks nothing like him, you've come to the right place.

Now don't get me wrong. My son Sean is the apple of my eye. He always has been, and up to his junior year in high school 2 years ago, he could have been that kid in the picture. Now we are at a whole different juncture. His being 18 and of "legal age", well, your options as a parent concerned about his health are very, very limited.

To continue with the story of my kids from a previous post, Sean was diagnosed with clinical depression about a year ago. He didn't care about anything. He didn't care about school, he didn't care about graduating, he didn't care about taking care of himself, he didn't care about his sister or me, he didn't care about eating, he didn't care about working. All he basically cared about was sleeping and running around with his friends. My normally very funny, very personable son was turning into Mr. Hyde. Oh, he could turn on Dr. Jekyll for short bursts if he had to, but it was becoming harder and harder. He chain smoked, smoked pot. Came home totally wasted one night, where he had spent part of it passed out on my front lawn. A girl dumped him and everything spiraled out of control. Every thing went right downhill until my 5'11 inch beautiful son weighed 113 pounds, had a heart rate of 38 and a blood pressure of 90/60.

I had done everything I could think of up to this point to intervene. Doctors, counselors, psychologists, 2 different psychiatrists. I begged, I pleaded, I punished, I cajoled, I guilted, I bribed, I prayed. And then I begged and pleaded some more. Last July, I talked him into an assessment at a local behavioral health hospital. They put us in the ER because his heart rate was so low. When they released us from the ER, I took him back to the behavioral health hospital, where, even after acknowledging he was putting his life at risk, he walked out. I took him back after more talking. And he wouldn't get out of the car.

"He's 18," they said. "You can't force him."

That's a great thing to hear. You feel your son is dying and there's not a thing you can do until he 1. passes out; or 2. finally agrees to hospitalization.

Days came and went after that. Some up and some down. Mostly down. Then last week, after he slept through Thanksgiving and couldn't eat, I sat down again and begged and talked and pleaded and appealed to the one thing he has always held onto: his music. If it wasn't for music, I think he wouldn't be around anymore. But his love of music and the guitar and playing kept him alive. So I told him, how does he expect to go to music school next year if he's anorexic, depressed, and suffering from panic attacks? I refused to help him until he helped himself.

That sent us to the same behavioral health hospital that my daughter is at, where she is still in the Adolescent Anxiety/School Refusal program, but doing very well. He was assessed again....and with some quick moves and fast talking, they got him to sign the inpatient admission voluntarily and escorted him to the 2nd floor -- "High Functioning Adult Unit".

As a preview to come, when they started to walk us to the 2nd floor, Sean looked panic stricken.

"What's wrong?" asked the social worker.
"I'm going NOW?" asked Sean.
"Yes," he answered. "You signed the papers as inpatient didn't you?"
"Well, yes."
"Voluntarily?
"Well, yes."
"Then what did you think would happen?"
"Well," Sean said. "I don't want to go up there now. I'll come back in the morning and be admitted. I didn't know I'd have to go today...right now."

And he looked at me and said he wasn't going. I told him I hadn't signed a thing. They hadn't even talked to me but for about 5 minutes and I was there when he signed the inpatient agreement. I told him I couldn't do a thing. He was an adult in the eyes of the law and the hospital.

The social worker took him in a private room while Erin and I waited outside. Eventually, they got him admitted to the second floor.

That's when the real nightmare begins.

Emotional Rescue

2008-12-07T11:37:00.000-08:00

I will spare you the details, but let's just summarize by saying that my two children have ended up as either an inpatient or partial hospital patient at a behavioral health hospital over the last 2 weeks.

Erin was diagnosed with ADHD when she was in second grade and I was finally able to secure an IEP for her last year after much wrangling, letter writing, meetings with the school staff and emotional pleading. This year, Erin moved to the middle school for 7th and 8th grade, and the transition has been one trauma after another. After another....until she pronounced every morning with vague physical symptoms -- stomachaches, dizziness, sore throat, headaches, muscle aches, back pain, neck pain, light sensitivity -- to name a few. I continued to try to get her to school at least at SOME POINT over the course of the day. I met with social workers, teachers, principals and asst principals. Counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists, pediatricians. If you have an M.D. or PhD or MSW after your name and live within 25 miles of me, I SAW you.

I spun so fast I'm surprised my head is still attached.

But finally, not through professional channels however, I opened up to several women who had opened up about their struggles with their kids. I found out about a School Refusal/Adolescent Anxiety program at a hospital that is about 25 miles from my house. After Erin had a panic/anxiety attack which resulted in her taking a butcher knife to my door frames, furniture, counter top and walls, I made an appointment and took her in immediately. They placed her in the program which is a PHP (Partial Hospitalization Program). This means that she is at the hospital every day, but comes home at night. She gets individual and group therapy, medication management, behavioral and cognitive therapies, coping strategies, expressive and spiritual exercises, as well as what they call "Exposures". This places the child in an anxiety producing situation in a safe atmosphere, and allows the other program participants and therapists to help the child work through it. The more "Exposures", the better they become at handling potential anxiety producing experiences. Erin has blossomed over the last couple of weeks and was comfortable in the program from day one. It is definitely a reassuring thing to learn there are other people just like you, struggling everyday with the same things.

They also provide team meetings and support groups for parents, which I have attended faithfully and have been a tremendous help. I'm learning just as much as Erin about how to help her cope and keep myself sane.

Here are some of the program's highlights:

"Our treatment approach includes working with your child's school, the parent(s) and other outside resources to best identify and meet your child's unique needs. Our school liaison and educational staff will work with your child or adolescent on issues such as:

* Returning to school
* Problem solving
* Time management
* Study skills
* Regulating moods such as depression and irritability
* Overcoming extreme shyness
* School phobia
* Panic attacks
* Obsessive compulsive disorder
* Goal planning"

It's a 3-4 week program and the one I found has a excellent success rate. Should your child be experiencing School Refusal/Anxiety, there is help out there. It's taken me 8 years to get to a place where I feel my daughter is really getting the help she needs.

She will be transitioning back into her regular school on Monday after 3 weeks in the program. They usually begin by 1-2 days at regular school, 2-3 days back in the program and taper from there. Keep your fingers crossed.

My son is a whole other story.

California Dreamin'

2008-12-07T10:51:00.000-08:00

on such a winter's day. Yes, it's cold here -- 11 degrees this morning and we've got about 10 inches of snow -- but it's a regular Chicago winter day. However, the older I get, the more I dream of California. Not just because of the weather, but because of family.

The Abe-ster

2008-12-05T16:31:00.001-08:00

When Anne and I went to Springfield last month (and took a picture of the Capital Building which really wasn't the Capital Building), we made our usual purchases at the Abraham Lincoln Museum Gift Shop. This usually consists of some combination of books, doo-dads, and tee-shirts. With the 200th anniversary of Abe's birth coming up in February of 2009, there was a lot merchandise because of the bi-centennial. I purchased an enormous book that was first written during Abraham's life and presidency, revised after his death and again for the bi-centennial. It is a tough read as it is strictly a period piece written in the style of the time. People in the early 1800's wrote nothing like we do today. So it the Chaucer principle. You get into the flow and just go with it.

But I did get one little book written in a form I could understand quickly (no, it wasn't "Abraham Lincoln For Dummies"), but 101 Things You Didn't Know About Abe. In reviewing the book, there were only several that neither Anne nor myself knew. But here, for your reading and historical pleasure are a couple of things you might not have known about our 16th President.

1. Abraham Lincoln was named after his paternal grandfather who was a wealthy landowner in Virginia. He eventually moved his family to Kentucky and was killed by an Indian attack. Neither our president nor his paternal grandfather had a middle name.

2. Lincoln is the only U.S. President to be awarded a patent. It was for a manner of applying adjustable bouyant air chambers to stream boats so they could easily pass over shallow water or sand bars.

3. In a strange turn of events, Robert Lincoln was standing beside a railroad track when he was shoved downward onto the rails by the push of the crowd. A man behind him yanked him up by his coat collar and saved his life. The man's name was Edwin Booth. His brother, John Wilkes Booth, would kill Robert's father 2 years later.

And of course, #4 -- was Ann Rutledge the true love of Lincoln's life?

Yes. Absolutely. I don't know what the book says about it, but Ann and Abe were star-crossed lovers whose passion never came to fruition.

Like Abe, Anne (the other one) and I love a good story.

Co-Dependent Fight Song

2008-12-04T21:50:00.000-08:00

How Dare You, Barry Manilow!!

I just realized the song "Can't Smile Without You" which is tied to Manilow like a co-dependent to his/her enabler, is the National Anthem of the Co-Dependent/Enablers Union**, of which I am a card carrying member. Oh, you disagree? Take a gander:

"You know I can't smile without you,
Can't smile without you.
I can't laugh and I can't sing,
I'm finding it hard to do anything.

You see I feel sad when you're sad,
I feel glad when your glad,
If you only knew what I'm going through,
I just can't smile without you."

HUH? HUH? What about THOSE lyrics? Granted, Manilow didn't write the darn thing, but it's been one of his signature songs for a long time. He used to bring women up onto the stage to actually sing it with him (until one lady grabbed a hold of his ass and wouldn't let go, which he didn't think was particularly funny....). But what did he expect? She was CO-DEPENDENT for heaven's sakes. She was hearing her Fight Song! Her Anthem!! She got a hold of her Co-Dependee and wouldn't let go until security shot her up with fentenyl and versed and used the Jaws of Life to pry her clamped fingers off his rear end (just kidding--but as with all jokes, there's a grain of truth in them. It's up to you to find out what's true and what isn't. I'm just telling a story here and empowered with literary license).

Barry thinks "Can't Smile" is a chipper ol' song about undying love and pining away. Sure it is.....the enabler is just pining away to get her lover out of jail after his 6th DUI (golly, he only really drinks one or two on the weekends), or not questioning the strange massive withdrawals from your checking account after you gave your boyfriend of 2 months access to your account number. Why make him mad? He LOVES you. He'll pay you back. He's a great guy. Or calling the school over and over to say your teenager is sick while she is really just hung over after being up all night on the computer talking to Sid, whom you haven't determined is female or male or under 45.

Or how about just old fashioned anger? How about being that enabler who knows that any anger erupting within a 45 mile radius to due to something she had either DONE or FAILED to do and then must make everything better even if it means selling her own soul to the devil. An enabler would be HAPPY to sell her soul if it would assure that everyone is happy and not making her pay (cuz you know, 'someone HAS to pay') for every mistake that ever happened in the history of the planet. I know. I tried! You wouldn't believe how HARD it is to sell your soul. Really. Some souls Lucifer just ain't interested in -- imagine what THAT does to your confidence level.

Anyway, Barry, tell it like it is. "Can't Smile" is a sad, sad song about co-dependents unable to live their own life because they are too busy enabling someone else's life. They "can't smile" unless someone else is smiling. They feel sad if someone else is sad. They are "finding it hard to do anything". Barry -- that's Co-dependency, not a LOVE SONG!!

So I hope you will take this in the spirit it was written --- and for god's sake don't get angry or I'll never be happy until you're happy again.

(**for real help with co-dependency, read Melanie Beatty's "Co-dependent No More"**)

What a Special Day

2008-11-26T13:41:00.000-08:00

November 22.

It is Anne's birthday, which is enormous in itself.

It is the day John F. Kennedy was shot and killed in Dallas.

It is the day the Beatles "White Album" appeared on the shelves.

I propose we create a national day off in honor of these events. Who's with me?

Hands?

So Where Have U Been?

2008-11-26T13:08:00.000-08:00

I wish I could say I was "Out to Lunch" or "Gone Fishing", but the truth is I've been under the weather and over-whelmed by life in general. And you moms know what THAT means....everything else falls apart at home. Everything. The kids, the housework, the laundry, the cleaning, the shopping, the cats. Then everything falls apart at work. Seems to me that one little me is holding up an awful lot.

Not that I'm complaining...exactly. I could be dead.

Of course, I threw my hat into the Nano ring and I've hit 19,000+ words, but with only a week to go, I doubt I'll hit that 50,000 goal. But that's ok. I'll probably continue to work on the story as life unfolds until the next Nano. My girlfriend Anne is doing it too and it reminded her mom of the times we wrote together as kids. I'd write one night and she'd take the story and write the next...and back and forth. I think many of our stories revolved around Bobby Sherman, Beatles and hockey players, but hey, it was all good clean fun.

We also went to visit our ol' pal Abe Lincoln in Springfield a couple weekends ago. We thought we'd take a picture of the old capital where Obama gave his speech. So in the cold and wind, we tramped down to the old Capital and took our pictures. As we headed for the train station back to Chicago, the cab driver asked us about our stay. Anne mentioned that we walked over to "that building" to take pictures where Obama made his speech.

The laugh was on us. We took pictures of an old church.

Well, the thought was there -- and now we have another reason to go back. I love it there!! Not only did we appropriately celebrate Anne's birthday, but we finally made it to the Lincoln library. It was just grand. We spent our time in the research/reference section, where there is free access to genealogy records. It was just great.

And we even took time away from our continual laughter to NaNo for an hour or so.

We are nothing if not disciplined.

Congratulations to President Elect Obama

2008-11-04T22:48:00.000-08:00

I'm not typically a very political person. I vote, I try to pay attention -- but I've always had a deep seeded mistrust of politicians. They were, to me, just highly educated used car salesmen. It was just my prejudice, I guess. But remember that old joke: "What do you call 100 lawyers at the bottom of a lake?" Response: "A good start." Well, I didn't put lawyers in that joke, but politicians.

This election was different for me. At face value, saw it as a new direction, whether we had our first black president or our first female vice president. I saw, being a complete Abe Lincoln geek, Mr. Lincoln being proud of how far we've come.

I also have a complete sense of calm which I've never had after an election. I always had the "well....let's see what happens now" attitude. But with this election, I made my first ever political contribution. It wasn't much, but I realized that I was "mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore." I wanted something different, something promising, something that would make me proud of the country that I so deeply love. While I don't think any politician is perfect, I believe we've handed over our problems to a man that will tackle them, but tackle them only with our input and help. He stressed that we are a nation of individuals, but that working together, we can make the changes. United, we are strong. Yes, we are.

And finally, my higher power has always played a big role in how I view politics. I truly believe that those who watch over us give us the leaders we need at the time we need them. We sometimes don't get what we want, but what we need. In this case, I feel we've gotten a double bonus: what we need and what we wanted.

My prayers for President Elect Obama and his family, and my never wavering support for the country I love.

Throwing in the Mother Towel

2008-10-20T11:32:00.000-07:00

"The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love"

That's what I've heard tell about motherhood. However, it had to have been written by a man. And here's why: NO MAN WOULD WANT THE JOB.

From Morning Sickness to being Sick That They Are Not Home By Morning, motherhood is enough to make you blow your brains out on a daily basis. I ask myself: Why me? What did I do wrong? Why is this happening? Why are my kids making me crazy? Why do they not listen unless I am a screaming, frothing at the mouth lunatic?

I have tried to lead by example. I speak respectfully (90% of the time) to my kids even when angry to the point of putting my head through the wall. I knock before entering their rooms. I never open their mail. So is it kid-nature to be whining, moaning, eye-rolling disrespecting globs of human tissue? Well, is it?

I don't know. Maybe I'm just getting old. Maybe my long fuse got shortened when I received my AARP membership card. I don't know. I do know that I talked back to my parents -- I do remember that quite clearly. I also remember I knew my limits -- and if I went past them, was unceremoniously reminded with a smack on the rear end.

I smacked Erin on the rear yesterday. You'd think I'd taken her to the town square, hog tied her and provided the rotten fruit and vegetables for the townsfolk to pitch at her. HUMILIATION, I'm telling you. HUMILIATION. The pain. The torture. And then....AND THEN....I took away her cell phone. How could I? If she comes home after school today and isn't "found dead in a corner", well, it'll be my lucky day.

OMG.

All I know is that I want to throw in the "mother" towel. I've done it for 19.5 years (including being pregnant). Can't I take a vacation?

Writing According to Lara

2008-10-17T20:37:00.000-07:00

Oh, now, don't be thinkin' that you are gonna get some good advice on how to write, how to get a literary agent, or how to get published. Naw. That's on someone else's site who knows what they're doing.

I know why you've come here. You come to commiserate with the bottom of the literary heap, or get a confidence boost as to how far you've come in comparison. I know it, you know it. Let's just get past it, shall we?

No, Batman, I don't know what I'm doing. I see all these people on NaNoWriMo (www.nanowrimo.org) with synapses, outlines, notes, research, story boards ... and I think to myself....WHY? I mean why can't I just write and write and write for 30 days, see what I have, keep the good stuff, pitch the bad and fill in the missing pieces? But only if I wanna?

When I was a kid, I wrote and wrote and wrote everyday without NaNo! I had no idea where I was going, what I was doing. I wrote during study hall, I wrote instead of eating at lunch, I wrote when I got home. Then I got up and wrote some more. Did I write for anyone in particular? No. At the time, the only thing I wanted to write about was hockey (Anne will tell you there was a Barnabas Collins/vampire fascination, but let's not complicate my trip down memory lane, ok?) Specifically, the Chicago BlackHawks Hockey Team. ALL MEN! Phil Russell and Dale Talon and Keith Magnuson and Darcy Rota and Danny O'Shea. All I needed to do was create a couple of 20 year old women and I was off to the races. Well, a PG sort of off to the races. But it was hot to me and every 100 handwritten pages or so, I wrote something that sounded like real people having a real conversation in a real place that I created. It was heaven.

So this is how I will approach NaNo for this year. I shall not worry about tomorrow. I will just write and hope I can remember that childhood enthusiasm that sustained me day after day, week after week, month after month, now that I'm older....but perhaps not as wise.

NaNoWriMo

2008-10-09T22:20:00.000-07:00

I've gone and done it. Signed up for NaNoWriMo. 50,000 written words in one month. 1 me, 2 jobs, 2 kids, 3 cats, 1 house and 50,000 words.

Of course it IS Anne's birthday month, so time out for the celebration is necessary by taking a lovely Amtrak train to Springfield and drowning ourselves in Abe-lore. This time we are going to make it to the Lincoln Library before it closes. Two years in a row we've tried and 2 years in a row we've failed. The third is a charm.

I have also told myself that I am painfully missing participation in the Thursday Thirteen meme -- so I must add that on the list of to-do's. You know that "exercising" is on that list as well, but somehow never gets accomplished.

I'm gonna work on that.

Ultimate Manilow

2008-10-07T15:25:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, I was lucky enough to meet someone I've admired for a long time -- Barry Manilow. He was gracious, warm, genuine. Just the way I thought he would be. It was a meet and greet before his Las Vegas show and and I was really a nervous wreck. But his staff was extremely patient and kind and the second I saw him smile and extend a handshake, I knew I wouldn't at least throw up on his shoes.

Afterwards, I sat in the front row of his new show and enjoyed it completely. I know there are people who go to his concerts and can tell you what he sang, how he sang it, what he wore and how he wore it, what he said and how he said it. Frankly, I have no clue....just like I have no clue what I said when I was standing in front of him. All I know is that I sang and cheered and stood and clapped and laughed. I came away happy. I came away happy after I shook his hand and I came away happy after his show.

And really.....what more could we possibly want from anyone??

Thanks again Barry......I know you've made so many people happy. With your time and your talent. It really is magic.

Mad Men Again

2008-09-10T18:59:00.000-07:00

Don't stop 'till you get enough!

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

2008-08-18T21:29:00.000-07:00

I really don't have anything to say or blog about. I simply needed to post a picture of Don Draper from AMC's Mad Men and to announce boldly to the world.....DAMN, he's fine looking. Jon Hamm fits into Draper like Tom Selleck fit into Magnum and William Shater fit into Capt Kirk. There are some actors who are just MADE to play the characters they play. And Hamm is one of them. I hope the show lasts forever -- it's smart, stylish and I love it. P.S. We had a very similar Chip 'n Dip set.

Olympics for the New Millenium

2008-08-13T23:44:00.000-07:00

The Olympics have started and while totally amazing, I definitely feel that something is missing this time around. This kept me up thinking all last night, I think I have figured out what it is and have taken steps to correct it.

You know how there’s the Regular Olympics and the Winter Olympics and the Summer Olympics and the Special Olympics? Well, premiering this year: The Mid-Life Crisis Olympics. (Check your local listings for events and times.) You will witness some of the finest in: Hot Flashes, Acne Breakouts, Crying Jags and the final heat in the Female Non-Genetic Induced Hair Loss Race. There will also be, for the first time, co-ed events such as Buying an Expensive Convertible Sports Car With No Credit, followed by dual heat of The Rush for HRT for Women, and the Rush for Viagra for Men, culminating in the Search for Inappropriate Dating Partners While Hiding It From Your Current Partner. All of this is available for any athlete over the age of 50.

Also this year, we will introduce our new division of Plastic Surgery, which will pit man against the knife. It will take incredible strength to decide how much goes, how much stays. There's the battle with self and the battle with the plastic surgeon -- mano y mano. Surely here, we will definitely feel the agony of defeat when eyebrows are permanently fixed in the unnatural Joan Crawford style, belly buttons are lost or off center after replacement after a tummy tuck, the occasional liposuctioning of the wrong part of the body or a breast implant blowout. It surely will be an eye-opener for both the audience, the participants AND the surgeons. Medals in this event are indeed given to the winners, even though they will look great and not give a shit. Losers in this event will receive the business cards of local attorneys, who will secure nice retirement packages via malpractice litigation.

We will also feature the usual events: Self Loathing, Self Flogging, Hormone Induced Panic Attacks and new this year: The Depression Inspired Couch-Sit With Flat Affect. We have thousands who have trained YEARS just for this very event.

It should be really exciting. Please tune in for the "MidLife Crisis Olympics" brought to you buy Fleets Enema (High Colonics for the Higher Ups); Lipitor (When the Sludge Builds Up, We'll Be There), and the makers of Xanax (Get Hooked and Not Care About ANYTHING Again). Rolling out their new campaign is the Clearasil Company, ("You Thought You Were Done With Us, But You Were SO Wrong!!") featuring a mother trying to bribe her 16 year old clear-skinned daughter into buying a tube for her at the drugstore! Even Don Draper would be proud of this award winner!

So tune in -- a good time is guaranteed for all.

For Dear Neil

2008-07-23T09:55:00.000-07:00

I got word today that Neil, an old friend of mine, had passed away. He was 56...and had been on vacation with his family.

I am extremely sad -- for me, for his friends, for his family. And his passing brings up alot of memories and questions in my life, especially in view of how my life is now. Neil was one of my major "should I have zigged when I ended up zagging?".

He was one of the funniest human beings on the face of the planet. He was also kind, generous, gentle..and did I mention funny? I never dated a human being in my life that made me laugh more than he did. And I'm not waxing poetic because he's not here anymore. Ask anyone who knew him and they would tell you. There was no one funnier who did not get paid for their talent.

One time, for Lent, he sent me an envelope with a piece of dryer fuzz. The note said, "So what are you doing for Lint?" That was it. That was Neil.

We met when he was a writer at the Trib and I was a college age assistant in the sports department. Because many of the high school and college finals come in late on Friday and Saturday, he was in charge, many times, of "babysiting" the people like me who took results over the phone and turned them into basic stats for the paper. We ended up being good friends and then began dating.

He ended up getting an offer from another paper in another state and it made it hard for both of us. He wanted me to marry him and go with him. I was in college, unsure of what I wanted, and felt our relationship wasn't at the stage we should be talking marriage. And I was too frightened to move 1000 miles away and end up in a broken relationship. I was just afraid. Afraid. So he ended up moving and we wrote and talked continually. But as things happen, long distance romances just don't work. When he'd come to visit, it was hard because I was unsure of myself, scared of my feelings, scared of his. I knew he loved me and loved me completely. Many times I think I should have taken a chance and gone with him. Many times, I think I was right to stay here to nurse my parents until their deaths, have the children that I do. Even go through the pain of divorce from WAM.

Neil did several amazing things for me some of which I had forgotten. I forgot to remember how special he told me I was, how beautiful, how funny, how loving. And in typical Neil style, he had a friend named Bill, who had moved to Chicago with his wife who was from Delaware. Well, Bill's wife didn't know a soul. Was miserable and wanted to go back to what she knew. When Neil called her one time to see how she was, she told him she was miserable. He told her he could fix that.

He called me and asked me to call her. I did. We talked for 3 hours and went to see "Ordinary People" and have a couple beers. That was longer ago than I want to admit to. And she and I lost contact a bit with our lives going in crazy directions, but she emailed me to tell me about Neil. And we talked a long time and realized how much we missed each other and all the incredible laughs we had.

My dear Neil....I miss you. I'll remember the things you told me. I thank you for bringing Bill and his family into my life....and I thank you again for helping me renew the friendship I have with Dona.
Love,
Lara

The Seven Words...

2008-07-04T12:44:00.000-07:00

I grew up on George Carlin and I always admired his wit, his quick humor...the way he looked at things. He was probably one of the first smart-asses I ever saw. Smart asses who made you think. As such, he is of course, my hero.

I had to take time to remember him in my own way. So here, for the first time, Lara Lampoon's George Carlin's "The Seven Words You Can Not Say on Television".

Now there are alot of words you can not say on television. I remember the aghast gasps in the 1970's when "All in the Family" introduced us to the sound of a toilet flushing in the background and the word "pregnant". Before that, it simply wasn't done. Times have changed, but as Carlin's 7 words have remained a staple of the "you STILL can't say these words on television", the words I will submit to you have consistently been Kingpins of the Female No-Fly Buzzword Zone since the beginnings of organized speech.

I present to you: the Seven Words You Can Not Say to a Woman...and Survive.

1. Weight
2. Teenagers
3. Libido
4. Sleep
5. Money
6. Menopause
7. Housework

Even READING these words raised the hairs on your necks, didn't it??

I don't believe I need to explain the meaning of any of these words to a fellow female over a certain age. They are already trying to shake off seeing the list in print and may even be washing their eyes out.

For those of you who don't quite "get" the list, well, if you're a woman, I can tell you that eventually, you will. If you are a man, I am gifting you some practical advice that will more than likely save you over and over.

Don't ever say anything even remotely associated with these words to ANY woman, even if you suspect she wouldn't understand. I guarantee you, if you don't practice not saying them now, they could potentially spill out at the most unopportune moment and put your life at risk. Trust me. I work for doctors.

So go forth, ye fellow humans, armed with this knowledge...for knowledge is power. George would be proud.

Welcome Home

2008-07-02T21:43:00.001-07:00

Is there anything nicer than coming home to a clean, organized, lovely kitchen? Doesn't it just beg for you to sit down with a nice cup of tea, maybe browse the mail, perhaps start a light supper of pasta with fresh basil and mozzarella? Perhaps with a glass of a delightful pinot noir? Hmmmm. Welcome home, honey.

My point? I have no idea what that would feel like. I just happened to take a look at my kitchen cabinets and noticed peanut butter (Sean), blue food coloring (Erin), and dribbles of chocolate syrup (either one) on the doors. Don't ask me why. And for some reason, an ant colony has taken over my kitchen counter plant. I CAN NOT kill the plant. CAN NOT. It's been in my family for like 25 years and refuses to die no matter how not-green my family thumbs are. The cats have knocked over their food dishes and Mena has started this "thing" of dipping over the water bowl. I don't know. It's hot...maybe she's trying to bathe. I just don't know. I simply don't know how this shit happens.

I clean. I dust and wax and polish and shine and vacuum and organize and swish and swirl and throw crap out (usually when the moon is full, Pluto is in the House of Saturn and Jupiter's spot is a lovely shade of burgundy). BUT, even when NO ONE IS HOME, it gets totally wrecked. Yes, Mena digs dirty socks out of the laundry basket and carries them all over the house like they are her kittens. Sure, Hurricane Erin strikes. Sure, sometimes the laundry piles up, the recycling poureth over, I have ring around the tub and sage brush rolling down the hallway. AND no, I don't always get to the dinner dishes, but for heaven's sake...peanut butter, blue food coloring and chocolate syrup?

How long has it been there? What if it's been there for like YEARS and I never noticed it? OMG -- I'm NOT June Cleaver!

It's been a terrible truth I've struggled not to face. But there it is. Out in the open. I believe I'm a disorganized clutterbug who does not pay attention to anything related to housework. I had company over the weekend, and Erin and I cleaned up (sorta) after they left. When Sam came over, I was fairly proud that there was even a path thru the livingroom. I told him that we had cleaned up after the company left....that the livingroom had been the housing unit for the visiting kids. He said, and I quote, "This is clean??"

He should have seen it BEFORE I spent 2 hours digging out.

With this recent realization of my affliction and my poor attempts at problem solving, I have now spent just as much money on books about home organization as I have on books about dieting.

But I'm trying to kick the habit. (It has been noted that if I spent my time organizing and cleaning as opposed to reading books about organizing and cleaning, that I'd not be in the mess I'm currently in....). I'm going to LOVE my mess. I'm going to embrace the Slob Factor that has been passed down from me to my children.

And I'm gonna start making those cats earn their keep by doing at least a couple loads of laundry a week.

Chez Harrison

2008-06-29T12:45:00.000-07:00

A dear friend is coming to visit who has never been in my neck of the midwest. She offered to stay in a hotel...you know, the Ritz Carlton, the Hilton, the Hyatt....but, ala William Shatner, I said, "You could......BUT WHY?" The Chez Harrison can offer you accomodations and amenities that you CLEARLY can not get anywhere else, even at a 5-Star hotel. I told her this....and emphatically stated she absolutely cannot enjoy the sheer class of Chicago unless she stays at my bed-and-sometimes-breakfast.

For starters...see the above picture? The serene colors, comforting furniture, the neat, open and airy rooms? Well, my place doesn't look anything like that at all.

However, here at the Chez Harrison, we offer so much more! For instance -- luxurious surroundings: a double wide driveway, shared with the cranky 90 year old neighbor and his 40-something "housemate" who gets arrested every month or so for treating him like an old shoe. Also, on the other side, separated, unfortunately by a big brown fence, is the neighborhood junk collector, who at last count, has about 75 old, unused lawn mowers in his back yard. Lucky for us, he and my 90 year old neighbor are brothers who hate each other. Excitement abounds in this fast-paced geriatric triad.

What else at Chez Harrison? Exquisite cuisine. Unsurpassed in fast food heaven. We have: Subway, McDonald's, Burger King, Taco Bell, 35 pizza places within walking distance, about 7 Starbucks and 5 bagel joints. Delivery is always an option at our establishment, as I am registered with each and every one of them and taste-tested all the options for my guests' comfort. And please, it goes without saying, an abundance of liquor stores that can satisfy your every alcohol fueled whim.

Still having trouble deciding? Well, how about THIS for the clincher? An all exclusive, magnificent collection of stray cats, coming from as far as the inner city, Wisconsin and County Animal Control (when I couldn't control myself) to cover you and your possessions with an array of cat hair from gold to white to black. Depending on the length of your stay, you may have enough for a fur-friendly winter coat.

I cannot see WHY Chez Harrison wouldn't be your choice to pull up some lumber, throw your luggage down and take a load off.

However, a disclaimer if you will....Chez Harrison is also permanent residence of Hurricane Erin, who no matter what the season, is always active. You never know when she will strike, leaving the living room in a state of emergency. Forewarned is fair play. Should Hurricane Erin strike, it is the option of the owner to stay with you in whatever hotel you escape to.

Love and Fur

2008-06-08T11:42:00.000-07:00

I have literally NO time on my hands, between the merger my office is going through, school ending and accompanying my son to traffic court, but tonight is unusual in that the only living beings in the house are me and the cats, Mouse, Kalli and Mena. Daughter is staying overnight at her dad's (which happens about 4 times a year) and Son is at an all night bon-fire with several school mates (fortunately, it's close to home and I'm a light sleeper -- when I hear the fire engines roaring by, I'll know exactly where they are going). However, I thought I'd take a moment to salute my silent partners, those whose company I have come to need almost as much as air.

I've always had cats, mostly because I grew up in an apartment. Where I am now is the only HOUSE I've ever lived in that I remember. But growing up, being an only child living in an apartment, it was a cat or nothing. So I became a cat person.

I've heard that cats are independent and stand-offish and only come around when they are hungry or want affection. In other words, they make the rules. However, I don't find that necessarily true (except for Mena, who can be a 25 pound force all her own). Mouse and Kalli can have full tummies and still manage to crowd me whether I'm on the couch or sitting at the table or reading in bed. They are very offended and put off if I have to get up to do something. They follow me to see what is so important that I needed to disturb them -- going so far as to accompany me into the bathroom. They will sometimes sit outside the door and wait, but that is a rare occurance. They must think I am going to do something absolutely riveting in that room....which they must not miss for all the catnip in China.

But as my house is uncommonly quiet right now, I find the Triad of Furballs quite comforting. Kalli remains on my left, Mena at my right, and Mouse at my feet, although Mena and Mouse change spots frequently. Kalli, however, is my citadel. Always stationed at my left, either paws in or paws out.

I've said before that I carry the devotion of all my pets with me, and I do. For all the hairballs I've cleaned up, for all the vet visits, for all the expensive food I've needed to buy, for all the litter pans I've scooped, for all the times I've cried when I've had to watch one get old and die, I wouldn't give it up for anything. The love of a pet cannot be explained, either from the furry view or the human view. All I know is....I'm a better person for the animals I've cared for and they have taught me amazing lessons on unconditional love and unwavering devotion.

Here's to all the furry, feathered, scaled friends that make our lives richer.

Gimme Shelter

2008-05-15T22:00:00.000-07:00

"If I don't get some shelter, I'm gonna fade away."

Thank you Rolling Stones.

I know I haven't posted in awhile. It seems that life totally got away from me over the last few months. We've all suffered from the flu and colds, I got a promotion at work -- our small OB/GYN practice is joining a very large ultra-mega-medical conglomerate. It's been interesting to say the least.

I feel overwhelmed and defeated by housework. Seems I just can't concentrate on work and the kids and keep the house clean and lawn mowed. Plus, the ex, WAM, has decided to take me to court in a week to adjust child support. Which is fine. Sean is going to be 18, so that's understandable. But I still insist on WAM splitting medical bills, which can be considerable because Sean has asthma and is on medication for generalized anxiety disorder. As long as Sean as in school, I think WAM should help pay, but who knows. Maybe the judge will think I take that money and buy Anne Klein clothes. I guess I'll just have to let him have a look in my closet!!

Court and I don't get along. I was only in court once....to get divorced....and all I remember is shaking and crying. I'm much stronger now (thank you Anne, for reminding me) but court is still intimidating. Oh well, just another speed bump in my life.

Hope you are all doing well....hopefully will be back on more consistently again this summer. I miss reading all your great blogs!!

Thursday Thirteen #31

2008-04-09T18:20:00.000-07:00

Who I Wanted To Be When I Grew Up

We all dreamed about what we wanted to do and who we wanted to be when we grew up. Here's 13 people I wanted to be that I remember -- I'm sure there's many, many more that I forgot!

1. A writer (was always #1!)

2. A doctor

3. A vet

4. A professional singer

5. A television/movie star

6. Mrs. George Harrison

7. Manager of a band

8. A fashion designer

9. Editor of a teen magazine (so I could meet David/Shaun Cassidy, Bobby Sherman, Michael Cole and just for Anne: Sajid Khan)

10. Professional photographer like Scavullo or Annie Liebovitz

11. A trailblazer like Gloria Steinem

12. A total genius like Stephen Hawking

13. A scientist like Marie Curie

Who did you want to be??

Thursday Thirteen #30 A Hard Day's Night!

2008-04-02T16:40:00.000-07:00

13 Great Lines from A Hard Day's Night!

Unless you are a die-hard Beatle-maniac, some of these might not seem familiar. But any Beatle fan will absolutely smile with recognition if you dish out any of these delicious one liners or luscious dialogues!

1. Paul, describing his grandfather: "He's very.......clean."

2. John, after listening to the stuffy show director who's going on and on: "I could listen to him for hours."

3. John to his manager, Norm: "You couldn't get a pen in your foot, you swine."

4. Ringo: "Any of you put a man in the cupboard?"
John: "Don't be soft"
George (checking closet): "He's right you know."
John: "Well, there you go."

5. Paul's grandfather to a buxom blonde: "I bet you're a great swimmer."

6. George showing Shake how to use a razor and shaving cream: "Put your tongue away. It looks disgustin' hangin' there all pink and naked. One slip of the razor and ....."

7. Interviewer: "And how did you find America?"
John: "Turn left at Greenland."

8. Paul, to every interviewer who asks him anything: "No actually, we're just good friends."

9. George, to a production assistant who was rebuffed after tapping on Ringo's drums: "He's very fussy about his drums you know. They loom large in his legend."

10. Woman, claiming John looks like "The Famous John Lennon", and John denying it: "You don't look like him at all......"
John, hurt, to himself: "She looks more like him than I do."

11. John (to a tailor holding up a measuring tape as John cuts it in half): "I now declare this bridge open."

12. Ringo to Paul's Grandfather: "I never really thought about it before....but being middle-aged takes up all your time, doesn't it?"

13. George: "Oh, that posh girl who gets everything wrong? We frequently sit 'round the television and watch her for a giggle. Once we wrote these letters saying how giddy she was and all that rubbish."
Promoter: "She's a trend-setter."
George: "She's a drag. A well-known drag. We turn the sound down on her and say rude things."

Many thanks to Alun Owen for a great screenplay which has held up really well over all these years. It was very hard just to pick out just 13 -- afterall, A Hard Day's Night is when we first heard the word "grotty" (for grotesque), which George had an incredibly hard time saying without laughing. Also, trivia buffs, in the concert footage filmed at the end, a very young future famous musician is seating near the back. His name is Phil Collins.

Thursday Thirteen #29 1956

2008-03-26T18:30:00.000-07:00

(Thank you Chaotic Home for the great graphic!)

The Year 1956...It Was A Very Good Year

For my parents anyway -- they look happy (they have NO CLUE as to the headache I will be in about 13 years....) Anyway, I'm not too sure what I was thinking. Maybe I was worried my head would never pop out of that cone shape. But it did -- less than a year later! See?

The baby daughter of Frank and Rose appeared a month early in December of 1956. So without further baby pictures, here's 13 things about 1956!

#1. Dwight D. Eisenhower and Richard Nixon are President and Vice President.

#2. The minimum wage is $0.75/hour. Most Americans make about $1.00 per hour and the average yearly income hovers at $4,454.00.

#3. A new car will set you back about $2,100; a new home about $22,000.

#4. A gallon of milk is $0.97; a loaf of bread $0.18; a dozen eggs $.80.

#5. A first class postage stamp is $0.03 and a gallon of gas is (hold your breath here) $0.25.

#6. Zenith introduces the first wireless remote control for televisions and the first videotape recorder is demonstrated.

#7. Richard Doll, MD, 37, an Oxford physician presents research linking cigarette smoking with lung cancer. The London Times did not publish his research.

#8. The Andrea Doria, a luxurious Italian oceanliner, sinks off Nantucket Island, Massachusetts after colliding with the SS Stockholm. 52 lives are lost.

#9. Japan becomes a member of the United Nations.

#10. President Eisenhower signs the Joint Resolutions of the US Congress making "In God We Trust" the US National Motto. He also authorizes the phrase "One Nation Under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance.

#11. Elvis Presley appears on Ed Sullivan on September 9, 1956 for the first time. His second album "Elvis Presley" goes gold.

#12 "The Wizard of Oz" is shown on TV for the first time. TV shows debuting in 1956 include: As the World Turns, Edge of Night, NFL on CBS, the Dinah Shore Show and the Steve Allen Show.

#13. John F. Kennedy publishes his Pulitizer Prize winning book, "Profiles in Courage", written the year before while he recuperates from an operation to repair a spinal problem. The book in part, is reportedly dictated to his wife, Jackie, who remained at his side.

Thursday Thirteen #28

2008-03-19T17:00:00.000-07:00

My 13 Favorite Classic Star Trek Episodes
(thank you to Goofy Girl for the great appropriate graphic!)

Oh sure, we could persue the usual loftier higher educational TT's....but why? I declare we need a mindless rundown of my favorite Classic Star Trek episodes.

As a preface, I was always a Kirk kind of gal. Spock was alien and distant, and Chekov was foreign with a bad wig, Sulu was just off in another universe, Scotty was always in the bowels of the ship and McCoy....well, he had his problems. But Kirk? Please. Overacted to perfection by hammy, campy, love him to death, Mr. William Shatner. (Shat to his friends). And you know, try as I might, I never got into the other Star Trek series. I saw a few of the Next Generation episodes and the characters were excellent, but I missed the campiness of 1960's experimental television! So without further ado, my fave 13 classics, not in any order.

#1 -- The Enemy Within. Oh, who could ask for more? Double the Shat as his personality is split into a "negative" dark, brutal, sexual side and a "positive" kind, reasonable, gentle side. The result? He couldn't be the great captain he is without his "negative" side, controlled by his "positive" side. Notable that Leonard Nimoy came up with the Vulcan Nerve Pinch to incapacitate his Captain, believing that the peace loving Vulvan would NEVER club his bud over the head.

#2 -- This Side of Paradise. The spotlight is on Spock in this episode. On a planet where the inhabitants are supposed to be dead from being bombarded by "Bertold Rays", they find a thriving community of LIVE people. The Secret? A plant that shoots spores over everyone, making everyone happy, happy, happy. Spock gets to kiss the girl this time after being spored upon....but everyone is brought down eventually to the baneness of reality by Kirk, who figures out how to "knock those spores right out of his hair".

#3 -- Turnabout Intruder. Notable as the last episode filmed in the series, #79, it is a real hoot! What a better way to end a show that would live in the hearts of millions for decades than by having Shat play Kirk whose body has been inhabited by a vengeful, spiteful ex-lover? Oh, a tour de force for Mr. Shatner!

#4 -- Amok Time. Spock hears the Vulcan mating call and Kirk breaks all kinds of rules from here to Sunday to get his First Officer back home and laid. Something he understands completely and deeply. In the ensuing drama, Kirk appears "killed" by Spock and when Spock realizes his beloved Captain is indeed still alive, we see a burst of grins from the somber Vulcan. Maybe he was just happy he didn't have to go to military prison.

#5 -- Elaan from Troyius. One of the all time best implied "they just had sex" scenes in 1960's television history...one I didn't understand until I was older. But Kirk has been sort of drugged by this female Ruler Elaan whom he is supposed to be taking to another planet for her wedding to an enemy of her people. In effect, she is a live sacrificial olive branch. Anyway, as she as put a "spell" on him of sorts, there's a lot of hot passion. In one great scene, Uhura is trying to page Kirk. Over and over with no answer. Finally he gets on the speaker. He is sitting on the edge of Elaan's bed, putting his boots back on. Priceless.

#6 -- A Rose by Any Other Name. Kirk (and Shat) at their best. He's got to seduce this alien woman in order to distract her by messing with her unrealized emotions. The main crew must do this to all the aliens on board in order to get control back of the ship. However, Scotty has the primo line. He is trying to get one of the aliens drunk. He's tried Sorian Brandy and a bottle of his prized aged Scottish Whiskey and has kept up, drink for drink with the alien. The alien asks for more booze. Scotty pulls something out of a cabinet. The alien askes him what it is. Scotty looks at it and shrugs as he starts pouring. "It's green," he answers him.

#7 -- City on the Edge of Forever. Shat and Joan Collins fall in love when Kirk, Spock and McCoy are sent back in time to the 1920 - 1930's. Of course she dies. Any woman who falls in love with him either dies or is left in the lurch somehow. However, this episode has always been a major fave of most trekkers. It was written by sci-fi great Harlan Ellison, who won the Hugo Award for best writing for it.

#8 -- Paradise Syndrome. Kirk gets separated from his crew and that always spells trouble. He gets amnesia this time after being squirted by some rays and wakes up in the midst of a tribe of American Indians -- planted on another planet -- on another universe -- by somebody. He becomes their "god" of course, marries and his wife becomes pregnant with his child -- which has TV death written all over it. Yeah, his crew finds him, he snaps to after a Vulcan mind meld, the wife dies and he maintains his title of "god" as he returns to his ship. He looked good in the Indian head dress tho.

#9 -- The Man Trap. It's a good story, of course....but the crowning glory of this episode is the introduction of the Salt Vampire. It can take any form, man, woman, whomever you want it to be....and it kills you by sucking out all the salt in your body. McCoy imagines he sees his long lost love and falls in love with it -- which leads to my earlier notation that McCoy had "problems". Anyway, the Salt Vampire, "the last of it's kind", is killed on board. Just like all things that are not approved by Star Fleet's Human Board of Directors.

#10 -- Miri. Probably one of my very favorites about the main crew exploring a planet populated only by kids after a bad virus created by the adults killed them all off. They had been looking for anti-aging pills. The adults died quickly, but the kids remained and aged only a month for every 100 years of living. Eventually, Kirk and crew start getting the virus that killed the adults so it's race against time to save themselves and the kids. Great Shat line: He's trying to round up the kids, who have become like wild little animals. They are shouting nah-nah-nah-nah-nah and when he talks they all say blah, blah, blah. However, ever the Alpha Male, Kirk screams back at them: "NO BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!!!" A perfect moment in cimematic history.

#11 -- The Mark of Gideon. A planet has cured all disease but is overpopulated to the nth degree. They kidnap Kirk to steal his blood, which has a rare virus that they wish to introduce into their society to naturally select some people to die off. Anyway, the Main Cheese's daughter sacrifices herself and wants to die to give people hope that they too, can take a trip to the afterlife. But Kirk and she have fallen in love and he wants to save her by having McCoy inject her with the cure. Yes, she lives. Yes, they break up. It's Star Trek for heaven's sake, but not before The Main Cheese calls up Kirk to tell him to stop trying to save his daughter. That he KNOWS they had "fallen in love" (60's euphanism for 'had sex') to which Kirk replies that what had happened between the two of them was PRIVATE (even tho there is a possibility that due to overcrowding it was witnessed by a crowd of about 25,000). Notable that the daughter's costume (and some of those costumes were pretty flimsy), was part of the Star Trek exhibit at the Smithsonian.

#12 -- Mirror, Mirror. Oh, I love these. Twice the Shat as he and the other main crew members cross over into some parallel universe, where Bad Kirk, Bad McCoy and Bad other crew members were going about their lives until they got transported onto the Good Ship Enterprise at the same time. Oh, it all gets sorted out, but Good Kirk on the Bad ship meets one hot woman, who, of course has to stay behind. These are the STAR TREK RULES: #1 -- characters in red shirts die; and #2 -- no love interest of Kirk's lasts longer than 53 minutes.

#13 -- The Trouble with Tribbles. Little furry hairballs take over the Enterprise. They like humans and Vulcans, but NOT Klingons. One of the funniest episodes and a great Kirk quote (as he watches the Tribbles multiplying quicker than plankton and are laying about everywhere). Uhura tells Kirk that the tribbles only give us love (as he asks her to "get those things off the bridge"), "Yes, Lt., but too much of anything...even love...is not necessarily a good thing."

There you have it. There are more great episodes and great lines of course, but I pulled these off the top of my head.

Now there's a scary thought.....

Thursday Thirteen #27

2008-03-11T17:55:00.000-07:00

13 Things About Belva Ann Lockwood

Who? You ask? Belva was a wonder. She ran for President twice when women weren't even allowed to vote; she fought to receive a degree in law when she was denied that right, she lobbied to argue in front of the Supreme Court. I just had to find out more about her. So here you go!

1. She was born Belva Ann Bennett on October 24, 1830 in Royalton, New York.

2. She was educated in the public school system and in 1844 she began teaching school for $5.00 a month plus board. This is half of what male teachers made.

3. She married at the age of 18 and had one daughter. Her husband died in 1854 and she left her daughter Lura with her parents and enrolled in Genesee College.

4. Belva graduated in 1857 from Genesee College and began teaching in Lockport, New York for the sum of $400 a year, while male teachers earned $600 per year.

5. In 1863, she operated the McNall Seminary in Oswego, NY, but after the Civil War sold the school and moved to Washington DC. There she opened the city's first co-educational school.

6. In 1868, she married a dentist and baptist minister, Dr. Ezekiel Lockwood, and they had one daugher. The daughter died at 20 months of age and Dr. Lockwood died in 1877.

7. At the age of 40, in 1870, Belva entered the National University of Law School and finished her courses 3 years later. She was refused her diploma because she was a woman. She petitioned President Grant for the right to practice and then was admitted to the Washington bar where she specialized in cases against the government.

8. In 1874, she was denied permission to practice before the U.S. Court of Claims because she was a woman. Belva said, "For the first time in my life I began to realize it's a crime to be a woman, but it was too late to put in a denial, so I pled guilty."

9. Due to her tireless campaigning, in 1879 a bill was passed through both houses of Congress and signed by President Rutherford B. Hayes, which allowed Belva to become the first woman to practice before the Supreme Court of the United States.

10. One of Belva's first actions was to nominate a black Southern colleague for admission to the court. She also won a $5,000,000 settlement for the Cherokee Indians, which was an astronomical amount of money...both then and now!

11. In 1884, Belva was nominated for president of the United States by the National Equal Rights Party. She received 4,194 votes at a time when women were not even allowed to vote! She ran again in 1888.

12. Belva's professional life focused on women's rights. She promoted temperance, peace and arbitration. She was also on the nominating committee for the Nobel Peace Prize and any of her papers on peace were published.

13. Mrs. Lockwood served as president of the Women's National Press Association, and served on other committees such as: the International Peace Bureau, the American Women's League, the National Council for Women, and the National Arbitration Society of the District of Columbia. Belva died on May 19, 1917, and was inducted into the National Women's Hall of Fame in 1986.

Letting It All Hang Out...

2008-03-11T17:34:00.000-07:00

...as they used to say when an emotional airing was necessary. I know I haven't posted much lately. Life seems to have seriously gotten in the way. My hands are full with just getting through every day....one hour at a time.

Previously, I sort of touched on the "darker" side of my life. Depression, anxiety, WAM...that stuff. I never really went into my relationships...or the things that I struggle with everyday. The stuff that makes me sit on a PhD's couch every Tuesday at 12:15pm.

First, my darling daughter Erin has ADHD. Now I believe she does have it, but I think the fires are fanned by the repression of the expression of anger. I'll explain in a minute.

Second, my wonderful son Sean is clinically depressed at 17. He's made some bad choices and is making more bad ones, and I think my terrific son is struggling partially because of the repression of the expression of anger. And the fact I leaned on him way, way too much post divorce. More than I ever realized until this came up.

Ok. The anger issue. My kids don't express anger well. Sean punches walls and has torn up his bedroom door. He doesn't like to be home and is like a caged animal when he is...just looking for a way out. The farther he pushes himself away from home, the worse choices he makes. In Erin's case, her ADHD kicks in. She bounces off the walls, pulls things out from everywhere without replacing them, makes a mess everywhere and just keeps on moving.

Why the anger issue? They have been exposed to extremes. With WAM (their dad), anger was an explosive outburst that no person I know of has ever been able to handle. You get mad at Dad? Oh, boy.....he can get lots louder and lots angrier...plus he's older and stronger and supposed to be a role model. Also, there was never a time when you felt you were going to make any headway. He just got angrier than you...and made sure that he would win under any and all circumstances.

With me...in trying to keep a very low profile, calm house after WAM was out, I perpetuated that anger wasn't allowed. I thought I was doing what was best for the kids, but it backfired. And compounded with the fact that both kids are protective of me anyway because of my heart attack, well, no one can get anger out.

So....it comes out in other ways. Erin's ADHD, Sean's caged animal depression.

We are all in counseling now. And I realize I have alot of work to do if I'm going to be able to send my kids out into the world as whole human beings. I hope I'm not too late.

Thursday Thirteen #26 The Saga of Frederick and Georg

2008-02-27T16:50:00.000-08:00

When we last left our couple, they had just met and while it seems that Georg was "warm for Chopin's form", he did not initially return the feeling. However, I need to back up the track a bit, to explain that when Chopin met Sand, he was already engaged to another woman.

13 More Things on the Life of Frederick Chopin (pictured here in 1833)

#1 -- In 1835, while in Dresden trying to find a cure or some relief for his "consumption", Chopin renews his acquaintence with the Wodzinski family, who had lived in his father's boarding house back in Poland years before. Their young daughter Maria is an accomplished pianist in her own right and Chopin falls in love with her. She is 17, he is 25.

#2 -- They maintain a strong relationship by letter and see each other periodically as Chopin criss-crosses Europe giving concerts and teaching the aristocracy. Not long after on September 9, 1936, Chopin proposes marriage during a holiday together, chaparoned by Marie's mother. Marie accepts.

#3 -- Marie's family tells the couple that the engagement will not be "official" until Chopin proves that he is gonna live long enough to take care of their daughter! He gets a one year trial period to improve his failing health or all bets are off. He also needs to prove that he can provide a stable home environment. Due to continual travelling and performing, he has not yet set up a permanent home.

#4 -- So into this milieu marches Georg Sand. They meet approximately October 24, 1836, a month or so after Chopin proposes to Marie. Chopin is ill and realizes he just may be rejected by Marie's family as decent husband material. Sand is separated and soon divorced from her Baron husband and has 2 children, a boy, Maurice and a girl, Solange.

#5 -- As luck would have it, Chopin cannot do what the Wodzinski family requires of him. He becomes very ill over the winter months and eventually meets Marie in Germany the early part of July, 1837 after a series of concerts in England and the Netherlands. Marie's family sees the state of his frail health and instructs her to reject his proposal....by letter....later. By the time he returns to Paris toward the end of July, he receives word of the broken "unofficial" engagement. He wraps Marie's correspondence and the rejection letter in a bundle and labels it "My Sorrow".

#6 -- From all accounts, Sand is a bold feminist, takes lovers of both sexes, and asserts herself as strongly as possible during the era she lived. She works around the prejudices against women by taking a man's name to publish her novels and write her plays. She divorces and is a directed, strong, single working mother. But she also has a very warm, maternal, loving side. And it is this side she presents to Chopin, who is physically and emotionally at one of the lowest points of his life.

#7 -- By the early part of 1838, Sand and Chopin begin attending parties together and their love affair blooms. By August of 1838, Sand wrote this of Chopin to friend and painter Eugene Delacroix: "If God were to ordain my death in an hour, I would not complain, because three months of undisturbed enchantment have passed." She also wrote to a friend: "He no longer expectorates blood, sleeps well, coughs little...He can sleep in a bed which shall not be burnt just because he used it."

#8 -- Even through illness, a broken love affair, traveling, teaching, performing and a terrible longing for his family and native Poland, Chopin manages to compose consistently. Mazurkas, Etudes, Polonaises, Sonatas, Ballades, Preludes, Nocturnes...often dedicated to those he loved -- Marie, various friends and teachers. These bars of music from his Nocturne in E flat Major were written down in an album of Marie's.

#9 -- From 1838 until approximately 1847, Sand and Chopin are together. By all accounts, they have a warm and loving relationship. Although they never marry, they are treated as a married couple. He gets along fairly well with Sand's son and very well with her daughter, Solange, whom he gives piano lessons to. They spend most of their time at Sand's home in Nohant (pictured here), in central France, returning to Paris only during the winter months. It is stated that Chopin is the happiest in Nohant he's ever been since leaving his family home in Poland. He is very busy composing, and while he has several near-death health scares, he is able to recover under Sand's watchful eye.

#10 -- During one of Chopin's seriously ill periods, Sand writes to a friend: "I know that many people accuse me; some say that I harmed him with my violent sensuality, others that I harmed him with my excesses."

#11 -- By 1845, Chopin's health is beginning to permanently deteriorate. His relationship with Sand is showing signs of strain, partially due to 2 other influences besides his health -- the fact that Chopin had sided with Sand's daughter Solange concerning a romantic involvement and the fact that Sand's son Maurice had begun taking a increasing hostile attitude toward Chopin and the time that Sand spent with him. The final break occurs in July 1847.

#12 -- The devasting blow compromises Chopin both physically and emotionally although he does maintain a close relationship with Sand's daughter Solange. He composes very little music after the break up and becomes increasingly ill. He gives his last public performance in London on November 16, 1848 and returns to Paris several days later. His pronounced tuberculosis makes tutoring impossible. Eventually, his sister comes from Poland to help nurse him as he is no longer able to care for or even support himself. Pictured is the last piano he used.

Frederick Chopin dies in Paris on October 17, 1849 at approximately 2am. It is rumored that Sand's daughter Solange is with him at the time of his death.

#13 -- Chopin's will is followed to the letter. He requested that after death, his heart be removed from his body and returned to Poland. His sister brings Frederick's heart back in an urn, where it is interred in a pillar of the Holy Cross Church in Krakowskie Przedmiescie. His body is buried in the Pere-Lachaise cemetery in Paris.

Chopin's hand notation of the Sonata in G minor, Op 65:

Thursday Thirteen #25

2008-02-20T16:45:00.000-08:00

We were big faves of Frederick Chopin as I was growing up and I've carried that love into my adult life. My mother and I would watch "A Song To Remember" (Cornel Wilde played a robust Frederick and Merle Oberon played a beautiful Georg Sand, which right there tells you it's a movie...because he wasn't robust and she wasn't THAT beautiful) but we'd get all weepy about his love for his native Poland, the gal he left behind (maybe fact, maybe fiction) and his slow, horrid death from tuberculosis at 39. The relationship between and Chopin and Georg Sand really is the stuff of romance novels...the tortured pianist and the feminist writer...and his short life was certainly filled with love and music, pain and loss.

So here are 13 Things About Frederick Chopin

#1 -- He was born here as Fryderyk [Franciszek] Chopin on March 1, 1810 in the village of Żelazowa Wola, near Warsaw Poland. There is some confusion over when he was actually born. There is no known birth certificate, and his mother filled out the birth date on his baptismal certificate as February 22, 1810. So in other words, he was born March 1, give or take.

#2 -- His father Nicolas (translated into Polish as Mikołaj) was a French expatriot originally from Lorraine. He emigrated to Poland in 1787 at the age of 16 and served in the Polish National Guard. He eventually went to Żelazowa Wola and secured a post as a tutor to some aristocratic families. He met and fell in love with Tekla Justyna Krzyżanowska, whom he married.

#3 Fryderyk (Frederick) Chopin was the couple's third child, the first boy. He inherited his mother's blue eyes and fair hair and skin, but his small frame and frail health from his father.

#4 -- The Chopins were by no means destitute. In 1817 Mikołaj Chopin became a teacher of French at the Warsaw Lyceum, housed in Warsaw University. The family lived in a spacious second-floor apartment in an adjacent building. Even though Chopin's father was French and taught the language, Polish was spoken exclusively in the family home and Chopin never did master the French language, even after living in Paris for many years.

#5 -- Chopin's parents were both musical (his father played the flute and his mother taught piano) but Frederick showed remarkable ability and was known as a child prodigy. He did have formal piano training, but quickly outgrew his teachers. He composed his first works, 2 polonaises (which are basically Polish dances) at the age of 7 and began giving recitals in public. He remained fiercely loyal to his Polish heritage through music his entire life.

#6 -- Chopin had an incredibly stable home life and was reported to be extremely bright and funny. He studied piano with various teachers, most notably Jozef Elsner at the Warsaw Conservatory from the ages of 16-20 (and possibly even when Frederick was younger). From the age of 7 months until he left Warsaw at the age of 20 in 1830, Chopin always lived with his family in very comfortable surroundings.

#7 -- Notable before his leaving Warsaw was that his sister Emilia died from "consumption" or tuberculosis in 1827. Comments about Frederick's physical appearance before he left Poland suggest that he too had contracted the disease. His father died in 1844 from TB also.

#8 -- Chopin, now a seasoned pianist and composer, traveled to Paris by way of Vienna, arriving in 1831. He became an accomplished teacher and composed etudes for his students, which were melodies that taught specific fingering and positioning on the piano. It is rumored that Chopin's hand span on the piano was 2 octaves, or a full 16 keys.

#9 -- The cast of his left hand.

#10 -- While Chopin enjoyed teaching (performing was becoming increasingly difficult for him because of his health. He needed to play small venues or salons because he frequently did not have the strength to play the piano forcefully enough to full a huge room with sound) he was also exceptionally proud. During a lesson, Chopin would reportedly stand after a time and walk to look out his window. That was the cue that the lesson was over and a "donation" was to be placed on the mantel. He maintained he never asked for money to teach his students.

#11 -- In Paris, Chopin met many other artists -- composers, painters, writers. He was extremely popular and was sought out as a teacher, composer, and salon pianist. It was there in 1836, at a party hosted by the mistress of fellow-composer and friend Franz Liszt, that Chopin met Amandine-Aurore-Lucile Dupin, Baroness Dudevant, better known by her pseudonym, Georg(e) Sand. He was 26, she 32.

#12 -- Georg Sand was a French Romantic writer noted for her numerous love affairs, and the fact she dressed in men's clothing, which she found more comfortable than women's garb. She also chain smoked a pipe. As women were not allowed to be published, she took a man's name in order to do so. Her first published novel, Rose et Blanche (1831) was written in collaboration with one of her lovers, Jules Sandeau, from whom she allegedly took her pen name, Sand.

#13 -- It was not "love at first sight" for Frederick and Georg. "Something about her repels me," he wrote his family. Sand, however, in a letter to a friend in June, 1837, debated whether she should end a current affair to begin one with Chopin -- repelled be damned! -- even though she knew he was reportedly engaged to a woman named Maria Wodzińska.

#14 -- Portait of Chopin by Georg Sand.

Now you say....what happened to Frederick and Georg? Did they have an affair or just stay mildly interested in each other's lives? And how did Sand's husband (the Baron) feel about all this? Or Sand's 2 children? What's the scoop on Georg and her affairs and her writing career? What happened to the woman Chopin was "engaged" to? Did he ever get back to Poland? How did he die? Is it true that Sand actually hastened his death? And what eventually happened to Georg Sand?

Well, 13 facts (plus Sand's portrait of Frederick) just weren't enough to tell the whole exciting, sad, painful, story of their love affair and his death. I guess I'll just have to finish next Thursday!

Thursday Thirteen #24

2008-02-13T13:46:00.000-08:00

13 Things for your To-Do List (according to an "Oprah-like" magazine):

This sort of cracked me up. I mean NONE of this crap is on my to-do list. I have stuff like, for instance: #3: Clean the litter pans; #5: get the green, gloopy, gooey old laundry soap out of the washer dispenser; #8: Change the vacuum cleaner bag; and #10: remember to feed the kids.

But here is the list from a magazine which hints that following its lead will result in a life to be lived:

#1 -- Dare to Dream. (I do dare, but I still end up having nightmares.)
#2 -- Set your alarm 30 minutes earlier and go for a walk. (Very good idea. Especially when there's 15 feet of snow, it's -2 degrees and the wind chill is about 40 below zero. That'll wake you up...or kill you.)
#3 -- Take a new way home from work. (I do this anyway to avoid the car accidents. Even though the roads are covered in snow and black ice, people still drive like it's June.)
#4 -- Go dancing. (um....hahahahahah! Ever see what happens to an ankle in stilettos on a nice ice-slide?)
#5 -- Turn off the TV (Another good idea except that the TV generates heat and my gas bill is lower if I keep it on.)
#6 -- Deliver cookies to your neighbors. (I would except between December and April, I'm not sure I have any neighbors.)
#7 -- Choose happiness. (Ok)
#8 -- Reward yourself for something you haven't done (I haven't mowed the lawn since October. Of course, I haven't HAD a lawn since October. So does that count?)
#9 -- Get away for the weekend. (These people don't have teenagers....)
#10 -- Rearrange your living room. (Why? To expose all the places covered in cat hair that I haven't vacuumed?)
#11 -- Stand up straight. (They haven't seen my post about sciatica apparently).
#12 -- Go scuba diving. Star in a play. Write a book. (All at once? Aren't I under enough pressure?)
#13 -- In a small notebook, write out 5 things you are grateful for. (I'm grateful for alot of things in winter...but mainly having a warm house, enough food and my kids and cats to keep me company as we slowly go insane from lack of sunlight.)

So This is SAD

2008-02-06T20:50:00.000-08:00

Seasonal Affective Disorder. And I've got it BAD. The kids and I are suffering from cabin fever to the point that Mayo Clinic may want to do a study on us. Even the cats seem exceptionally crabby.

We've had snow on top of more snow...on top of freezing rain...on top of cold temperatures and even more snow. I've thrown my back out out (sciatica??) and am to lay flat on my back with heavy duty pain meds and a steroid pack running through my veins. Unfortunately, there's work and kids and shopping and laundry and and and. So I'm just struggling along and my brain is just fried.

Dear TT'ers -- sorry I'm skipping this week. Just can't seem to fire up the synapses to write anything worth reading. As my fanny is pasted to the sofa though, I'll stop by and read yours!

Have a good week!! And please send some warmer weather our way!

Thursday Thirteen #23

2008-01-29T22:49:00.000-08:00

I Don't Know Where I'm Going, But I Know Where I've Been! 13 places I've visited.

1. England. This was in 1976 while the Queen was celebrating her millionith year on the throne. But I fell in love. In love. I was there for 10 days and roamed around London and off into the countryside. I'd go back in a NY minute. Highlights: Saw Rudolf Nureyev dance. He was older, but it was still powerful. And I walked the walk of the 4 lads where Apple Corps was located (scene of the rooftop performance) and almost got killed looking the wrong way before crossing the street...saw the supposed official "round table" of the Knights...and Stonehenge.

2. Ireland. I'm Irish. What can I tell you? I love Ireland. Went to Dublin and saw the Ring of Kerry and stayed at youth hostels. Then it was advisable not to go any farther north because of all the trouble in Belfast. Saw the Blarney Stone, which you need to hang outside of a tower to kiss, and hearing the stories about the locals peeing on the stone and getting an ol' Irish hoot watching idiot tourists kiss it, well, I waved at it and moved on. I did my history proud and got hammered on Paddy Whiskey. For this reason, I missed most of Scotland....but

3. Scotland. I did revive somewhat for Edinburgh. So old, so much history and an amazing castle that overlooks the city. We weren't there very long and I was praying to just die for most of it...after my salute to Ireland.

4. Wales. All I gotta say is....who knew? The Welsh people (Not Racquel, but Tom Jones is Welsh if that helps) are a damn scream. Beautiful seaside sojourn...and many laughs. Could be I was just happy to have survived Paddy Whiskey.

5. France. Paris mostly. While others in my college troop went off to sample the abundance of the French grape, I went in search of Frederick Chopin. Yes, I knew he was dead, but he spent many years in Paris -- he had an apartment in the Place de la Concorde, which I found via the Metra with some difficulty considering I speak NO French. Got lost in the damn underground....but really did enjoy France. Saw Notre Dame and the Louvre, walked along the Seine. Went out into the countryside and heard about Napoleon and Marie. Highlight: Finding out you absolutely CAN live on bread, wine and cheese.

6. Hawaii. oooo, I loved Hawaii. I mean, how can you NOT? Altho I went with Anne and our friend Jane not to enjoy sun and ocean, but to hunt down Mr. Magnum PI. I found that house too, where they filmed the show. Highlight: Maui. Island home of one Mr. George Harrison, who had a sign that said, in effect, "GET THE F*** OFF MY PROPERTY" in about 17 languages. He didn't want any misunderstanding. No matter where you were from.

7. Dallas, Texas. Some friends of mine moved down there from Chicago about 10 years ago. The only thing I knew of Dallas came from that TV show "Dallas". (We did go visit Southfork, which is an actual ranch, but the inside doesn't look anything like the interiors of the show and the pool is about the size of a 1/2 dollar). But I LOVED Dallas. I loved Texas. It's big and open and you can wear shit-kickers anywhere, anytime and be considered "dressed". The land is open, the food is big and I had a great time. Highlight: fell in love there. Toby Keith. You understand...

8. Philadelphia. My friend Jane moved there and I visited a couple years ago for a girl's weekend. It was terrific!! Ben Franklin and pubs and early American history. A bus ride through skinny streets and brightly painted 18th century row houses. Oh, and the real Liberty Bell. We went to Valley Forge too which was serenely beautiful.

9. Los Angeles. My family moved out to Rosemead California in the 1960's. It's just outside LA. They've moved all over and I've seen alot of Southern California. I like that you can be in 80 degree heat during the day and have it drop into the 50's at night. Or be in horrid heat during the week and head off to the mountains and see snow over the weekend. That and the diversity. Food, people, culture -- all in moderate temps and a few earthquakes. I lived through one quake when I was younger and I remember standing in the door jamb waiting for it to pass. To me, as a kid, it reminded me of living by train tracks and hearing the freight trains pass through.

10. Alaska. Anchorage, Juneau. Went the end of September about 20 years ago and it was warmer in Anchorage than it was in Chicago. It's on the ocean and the way the current flows, Anchorage can be warmer in the winter than Illinois. Again...who knew? Great history there too....but the economy is really tough and I remember alot of empty stores and empty houses. It is extremely beautiful country though. Just going to the store takes your breath away if you look at the scenery around you.

11. Cincinnati, Ohio. I may have lived in Chicago, but in my youth, I was a traitor. I loved the Cincinnati Reds baseball team. I loved Johnny Bench. I saw him catch a game and I fell in love. He was such an incredible athlete -- and I'm sure he still is. But ol' John got me to Cincinnati several times so that when "WKRP in Cincinnati" came on TV, I knew exactly what it was about. Ohio in general, was also a major favorite when I went to college in Muncie Indiana, as all we had to do was cross the border to get a drink.

12. Las Vegas. How could we not put this on the list? I was there in the days of the Desert Inn (Frank's hangout), the Flamingo, Elvis and when the MGM Grand was the end of the strip. And I've seen it grow out farther into the desert and get bigger and grander. Vegas is just a lifeforce all its own. Can't explain it if you've never been there. But you need money....and sleep in optional.

13. Sedona, Arizona. This was quite awhile ago, but if you've ever gone, Sedona sticks with you forever. It's like the Grand Canyon...Meteor Crater....the Pyramids of Egypt. There's just something majestic about the place. I don't remember much except staring at the beauty of it and wishing I could take a piece of it home with me.

But no matter where I've gone, I've found there truly is no place like home.

Hey, Barry Manilow Fans!!

2008-01-26T08:35:00.000-08:00

And anyone else who likes to help those in real need (speaking of volunteering and charity)....

Go to www.manilowsmidnightdreams.com, (or connect through their link on my sidebar) click on the Raffle icon and help someone who was part of Barry's early career and now is having a very difficult time.

There is a terrific raffle set up by the directors and staff of Manilow's Midnight Dreams (Viv, Beth, DD, Cindi and Crystal) with lots of great prizes...and all of the proceeds going to help someone who truly needs it.

All the people involved with Manilow's Midnight Dreams are trustworthy, honest people. I guarantee you that if you donate, the money will be going to help Jeanne Lucas and no one else.

I know as a Manilow fan myself, there is no group of people who will come quicker to your aid or send a comforting note sooner than they. It makes me proud to be among them...and has always made me proud of Barry himself to nurture that sense of charity among his fans and fan clubs.

So take a minute, go to the site and click to help.

Thanks!

Me and Volunteering

2008-01-25T11:15:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I didn't have a whole lot of interaction with people who weren't like me. I'm talking across the board, culture, age, income bracket. We lived in the suburbs and everyone around us was like....well, us.

My parents, however, had grown up differently. My mom grew up in a very ethnic neighborhood, where if you didn't speak Czech or Polish, you couldn't function. Everyone spoke Czech as a first language, read the Slavik papers, and English was a second language.

My dad grew up in rural Illinois, but from a very culturally diverse and huge family. Because my grandfather was one of the only people in town who didn't lose his job during the depression, my dad said that their dinner table always had strangers. Local people, people passing through. Black, white, young, old. The feeling was that since there was enough food for the 8 of them, there was still enough for a couple more. The rule was....wash your hands and sit down. It wasn't fancy, but it was food.

Anyway, I think my parents knew I was missing out on an important piece of the life puzzle growing up as I did. So when I was 14, they had me volunteer as a candystriper at a large, metropolitan medical center.

It was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I got an education that no amount of schooling would ever teach me. I was around black, white, hispanic, oriental. Old and young. The sick and the infirm. The dying. I saw burn victims and car crash victims. I saw young people dying from cancer. I saw "dead".

And I saw what drugs can do to you first hand.

I was taking papers into the emergency room. There was a policeman standing by a gurney, where a young man lay, eyes wide, frightened, shaky, sweaty, painfully thin and dirty. I saw that the young man was handcuffed to the steel bars of the gurney. As I passed, with his free hand, he tried to stop me.

"Please get the bugs off me....Please...." he pleaded.

He was scary and pathetic at the same time. I really didn't understand. The policeman looked at me and said gently, "Drugs. Take a good look. Don't let this be you someday."

I never touched a street drug in my entire life because of that policeman and that sad young man.

My parents never knew the true depth of what they did for me. I learned so much more than they ever had probably hoped for. Compassion. Understanding. Patience. Gratitude. Our gift of choice. I was a candystriper there for almost 3 years, until I got a regular part time job.

So this is my call to everyone. Volunteer. Share your talents with those who are less fortunate. And involve your kids. The lessons learned will be with them for a lifetime.

Thursday Thirteen Part 2

2008-01-24T08:00:00.000-08:00

Answers to Life's Questions...(really yesterday's Thursday Thirteen):

1. Robert Palmer (musician "Addicted to Love") Dead. Sorry. Even I thought the babes he used in his videos were hot.

2. Johnny Bench (Cincinnati Reds baseball Hall of Famer). Alive and signin' baseballs at JohnnyBench.com

3. Betty White (actress most notably from Golden Girls). Doesn't anyone remember her reeming William Shatner a new one at his Comedy Central Roast last year? Yup, still alive and lettin' 'em have it.

4. David Cassidy (pop teen star). Alive -- and still pissed off at his dead father, Jack, jealous of his step brother Shaun, and wishing he's never seen a Partridge.

5. Beverly D'Angelo (actress from "Christmas Vacation" with Chevy Chase). She's alive -- and very, very busy. Had twins late in life with Al Pacino. Like REALLY late in life (49)!!! Now she's raising 3.

6. Johnny Carson (talk show host). Conducting interviews from the afterlife. Dead.

7. Mohammad Ali (champion prize fighter). Still alive, but very ill. Passed his fighting genes onto his daughter.

8. Gloria Steinem (activist, author, National Women's Hall of Famer). Still alive and still fighting the good fight.

9. Peter Benchley (author Jaws). Dead. I didn't know this one and had to look it up.

10. Francis Ford Coppola (director The Godfather). Alive and now producing very expensive wines from his Coppola vineyards.

11. Julia Child (world famous chef and TV icon). Dead. And I truly miss her. She was one of a kind.

12. Jimmy Carter (president). Alive. No comment. Just thought I put a president in here.

13. Elizabeth Taylor (actress) Alive -- shockingly. She's near Frankenstein in the number of surgeries she's had, but she's still a tireless campaigner for AIDS research from the sidelines.

and one trick one:

14. Cat Stevens (musician). Nicholas got it. He's alive, but is now known as: Yusaf Islam. Can you say "Moon Shadow"?

Thursday Thirteen #22

2008-01-23T16:11:00.000-08:00

Gone...or Maybe Not??

My girlfriend Anne and I have this macabre game we play every once in a while. It's called "Dead or Alive: Your Call". We think of celebrity names and try to guess if they are still alive or deceased.

Oh...c'mon....it's sick...it's fun...it's entertainment! Really. Have a bash and see if you can pick out who is Living or Deceased from this list of 13 (answers to follow):

1. Robert Palmer (musician "Addicted to Love")

2. Johnny Bench (Cincinnati Reds baseball Hall of Famer)

3. Betty White (actress most notably from Golden Girls)

4. David Cassidy (pop teen star)

5. Beverly DeAngelo (actress from "Christmas Vacation" with Chevy Chase)

6. Johnny Carson (talk show host)

7. Mohammad Ali (champion prize fighter)

8. Gloria Steinem (activist, author, National Women's Hall of Famer)

9. Peter Benchley (author Jaws)

10. Francis Ford Coppola (director The Godfather)

11. Julia Child (world famous chef and TV icon)

12. Jimmy Carter (president)

13. Elizabeth Taylor (actress)

and one trick one:

14. Cat Stevens (musician)

Ok troops.....no using google or wiki or anything. Give it your best shot!!
I'll post the answers tomorrow!

Me and Alice

2008-01-21T16:48:00.000-08:00

Subtitle: Everyone Needs A Fantasy Bad Boy.

I can't tell you what it is about Alice Cooper that I find intriguing. Maybe it's his severe case of schizophrenia. Maybe I just need a bad boy. I'm not sure...

But I never gave Alice Cooper one single moment of thought or consideration other than a passing thumbs up at "School's Out" until about 1975. I was a senior in highschool and I heard "Only Women Bleed". When I asked someone who sang it, they told me, "Alice Cooper". I thought: they had to be kidding.

But they weren't. And thus began my love/hate relationship with Alice, one which I'm sure has kept him up many a night.

What glues me to Alice is the dichotomy of his nature. His split personality(ies). He's a gentleman golfer and a violence-exploiting putz at the same time. And while most people wish to hide the good/bad in their personalities (see: Wilde, Oscar. "Picture of Dorian Gray"), Alice is just comfy sharing the whole lot. Emotional stability be damned! I just couldn't...and still can't...understand a guy who pretends to drink blood on stage, yet has been happily married for years, plays 36 holes of golf a day and was invited to sing with Ms. Piggy on The Muppet Show.

Is it just me?

Now ol Coop was born Vincent Furnier, but gave birth to Alice as an entity that became his band. He referred to Alice always in the third person...even when speaking about himself. This, alone, should have made loved ones get him to Bellevue, but Alice Cooper (the man and band) began to make big bucks and therefore, no one stopped Vince/Alice (the man) from doing anything. Like almost drinking himself to death or using a snake as a stage prop, or throwing a chicken out into the audience who promptly killed the poor thing. In Alice's defense, he said he thought chickens could fly and would just come back to the stage. In reality, I think he was probably toasted and had lost all ability to reason.

But the Alice Cooper I came to like gave us "Welcome to My Nightmare" which contains "Only Women Bleed" and is about as sensitive a song as any man could give us. I found the song insightful to the point of scary as a wide eyed 18 year old, and now listening to it as an older woman who had been in an abusive relationship, well it's even more stunning...compounded by the fact that it was written and sung by a man named Alice. The theme albums that followed "Goes To Hell" and "Lace and Whiskey" (which contains another very female POV song: "No More Love At Your Convenience") are my favorites in the Coop repetoire.

So now, Alice (the man) has taken another turn to sobriety, book writing, golf and an embracing of Christianity. But the old Alice is still there too...out on stage for that "Psycho-Drama -- This Won't Hurt...Much" Tour.

Go figure. I certainly can't.

Thursday Thirteen #21

2008-01-16T20:00:00.000-08:00

13 Things about Oscar Wilde. And boy was he ever!

1. Oscar Wilde was born Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde on October 16, 1854 in Dublin, Ireland.

2. His family consisted of his parents, Sir William Wilde and Jane Francesca Elgee and 5 siblings: Henry, Emily, Mary, William, Isola. His father was a well known and respected doctor, his mother was a writer, but because of the era she lived in, wrote under an alias.

3. Oscar attended college at Oxford and graduated with many prizes for his works. After graduation, Oscar moved to London to live with his friend Frank Miles, a popular high society portrait painter.

4. In 1881, Wilde published his first collection of poetry. It received mixed reviews by critics, but helped to move Oscar's writing career along and precipitated a trip to the United States in December, 1881. He delivered a series of lectures on aesthetics that was originally scheduled to last four months. It eventually stretched to nearly a year, with over 140 lectures given in 260 days. In between lectures he made time to meet with Henry Longfellow, Oliver Wendell Holmes and Walt Whitman. After returning to England, he then set off on a lecture tour of Britain and Ireland.

5. Wilde was popular on the lecture circuit and is regarded as one of the greatest playwrights of the Victorian Era -- he wrote and produced nine plays, but only one novel -- "The Picture of Dorian Gray".

6. He was known for his sharp wit and many of his famous quotes still resonate today. For instance, On Men:

"No man is rich enough to buy back his past."

"I delight in men over seventy, they always offer one the devotion of a lifetime. "
-- “A Woman of No Importance”

"I don't like compliments, and I don't see why a man should think he is pleasing a woman enormously when he says to her a whole heap of things that he doesn't mean."
-- “Lady Windermere's Fan”

His quotes on Women:

"Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood."
-- “The Sphinx Without a Secret”

"It takes a thoroughly good woman to do a thoroughly stupid thing."
-- “Lady Windermere's Fan”

"My dear young lady, there was a great deal of truth, I dare say, in what you said, and you looked very pretty while you said it, which is much more important."
-- “A Woman of No Importance”

"I am sick of women who love one. Women who hate one are much more interesting."
-- “The Picture of Dorian Gray”

"I prefer women with a past. They're always so damned amusing to talk to."
-- “Lady Windermere's Fan”

Quotes on People

"People who count their chickens before they are hatched, act very wisely, because chickens run about so absurdly that it is impossible to count them accurately."
-- Letter from Paris, dated May 1900

"The public have an insatiable curiosity to know everything, except what is worth knowing."
-- “The Soul of Man Under Socialism”

"Most men and women are forced to perform parts for which they have no qualification."
-- “Lord Arthur Savile's Crime”

"It is perfectly monstrous the way people go about, nowadays, saying things against one behind one's back that are absolutely and entirely true."
-- “The Picture of Dorian Gray”

Quotes on Life

"Life is much too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it."
-- “Vera, of The Nihilists”

"The Book of Life begins with a man and woman in a garden. It ends with Revelations."
-- “A Woman of No Importance”

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."
-- “The Duchess of Padua”

"The world is a stage, but the play is badly cast."
-- “Lord Arthur Savile's Crime”

Quotes on Love

"Nothing spoils a romance so much as a sense of humor in the woman - or the want of it in the man."
-- “A Woman of No Importance”

"One should always be in love. That is the reason one should never marry."
-- “A Woman of No Importance”

"To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance."
-- “An Ideal Husband”

"A man can be happy with any woman as long as he does not love her."
-- “The Picture of Dorian Gray”

"Young men want to be faithful and are not; old men want to be faithless and cannot."
-- “The Picture of Dorian Gray”

7. Wilde married Constance Lloyd in 1884. She was well read, spoke several different languages and was very outspoken. They had 2 sons: Cyril in 1885 and Vyvyan in 1886.

8. With a family to support, Oscar worked at Woman's World magazine from 1887-1889. The next six years were to become the most creative period of his life. He published two collections of children's stories and his first and only novel, "The Picture of Dorian Gray". It was published in 1890 originally as a short story in an American magazine to a storm of critical protest. This fueled him to expand the story and get it published -- which is was the following year. Its implied homoerotic theme was considered very immoral by the Victorians and played a considerable part in his later legal trials.

9. Oscar's first play, “Lady Windermere's Fan,” opened in February 1892. It was a financial and critical success and as a result, he focused on writing for theater. His subsequent plays included “A Woman of No Importance” (1893), “An Ideal Husband” (1895), and “The Importance of Being Earnest” (1895). These plays were all highly acclaimed and firmly established Oscar as a playwright. He was the delight of the stage......until:

10. In the summer of 1891, Oscar met Lord Alfred 'Bosie' Douglas, the third son of the Marquis of Queensberry. Bosie was well acquainted with Oscar's novel “Dorian Gray” and was an undergraduate at Oxford. They soon became lovers and were inseparable until Wilde's arrest and conviction four years later of gross indecency. He was sentenced to two years hard labor. His wife Constance took the children to Switzerland and reverted to an old family name, “Holland.”

11. Upon his release from prison, he and Bosie were reunited for a time, but the relationship didn't last. He wrote a play about his experiences in prison, but it failed to rekindle interest in his works.

12. Oscar spent the last three years of his life wandering Europe, staying with friends and living in cheap hotels. When a recurrent ear infection became serious several years later, meningitis set in, and Oscar Wilde died on November 30, 1900 in Paris, France.

13. Numerous books and articles have been written on Oscar Wilde since his death, one of note by his grandson, Merlin Holland, in 1997.

Oh No, That's Gonna Hurt...

2008-01-15T20:45:00.000-08:00

I have been to the doctor about 10 times since Christmas because of a cold, then a virus, then a sinus infection. In a nutshell, I am miserable.

However, I didn't know exactly HOW miserable I was going to get. The doctor blindsided me today. It went something like this:

"um...Lara....we ran some blood tests because you've been unable to shake this infection you have."

I nod. I know it -- it's doctor speak. I'm fine. But here comes the question that sends the hairs on the back of my neck to a 90 degree angle.

"Do you have a history of diabetes in your family?"

I stared for about 10 seconds, then hung my head ala Thomas Magnum. Resigned. Aware. Cooked. Busted. Cornered.

"Yes...."

"Well, your fasting glucose is....blah, blah, blah and your A1c marker is blah, blah, blah. Your markers have been going slowly but steadily upwards...and you are now considered diabetic."

Yup. Ambushed.

Now I know enough to know that this isn't a death sentence. It could have been much worse. It was found early and hopefully I can be controlled with diet and more exercise. But this news comes on the heels of a special anniversary this year: 10 years since I had a heart attack. 2/14/1998 -- Valentine's Day -- My heart gave out. But I survived and I'm here and FINALLY, when I'm just beginning to get the thumbs up from life insurance agents, I get kicked out of the ballpark again.

Man, I hate it when that happens.

Suburban Misanthopia

2008-01-13T11:00:00.000-08:00

Last September, my daughter decided she wanted to be a cheerleader. Well...ok!...although this encompassed an exorbitant amount of my time taking her to practices and driving her to football games that could be 25 miles away or more. But she was excited, the bonding was good for her because of her ADD and the training helped her expend her boundless energy. Me? Yea, I should have been training with them, but I used the time as I sat at the practices and little league football games to read, listen to my iPod or close my eyes behind my sunglasses. She loved it. I cheered her on during her squad's halftime show and then we went home after the game.

Now I am a fairly chatty, personable person. I can have a decent conversation with just about anyone, anywhere, even if alcohol isn't present. Somehow, and I don't know why exactly, I'm having...and have had...trouble bonding with the typical Suburban Mom.

We've already established that I'm a bit "off the wall". As much as I wish I was, I'm just not Suburban Wife and Mom material, even though being a wife and mother is what I truly wanted. Now that I have my own life (as I did in my 20's), the kids are getting older and a bit more self sufficient, I find I have more and more difficulty "blending" in with the neighborhood/cheerleading/soccer moms. This is no reflection on them. It's a reflection on me.

Most of them -- say 95% -- are married, either non-working or working just part time outside the home. There are very few of them in my section of the boat....status post heart attack with panic disorder, a crazy ex-husband, 2 kids, one with ADHD, no other family, a bright son who quit highschool (but will be starting junior college early and taking his GED), working full time and trying desperately to stay ahead of the dirty laundry monster who is perpetually at my heels.

I guess part of the disconnect is that I look at some of these women with envy -- one just got her last child of 3 off to college and she decided to start to look for a job. She landed a great one at a little bookstore, 9-3, 2 days a week. Some are in school, taking a class here and there. Others are at home, comtemplating starting a home-based business. I guess what they have, which I wished I had, is not the time to be home necessarily, but is having a stable, relatively happy marriage. I'll probably never know what that feels like, even though it is something I wanted. I'll never know what it's like to have your husband overjoyed that you are pregnant and taking part in your pregnancy and preparing for the birth of your child. And that makes me sad. Sometimes overwhelmingly sad.

But to combat the blues, I have marched decidedly forward as a single person, determined to get my self confidence back...to make a list of goals that I can achieve on my own.

And this is all good. All totally positive and good.

But I still wish for that which I will never have.....

New Year, New Ideas

2008-01-12T09:08:00.000-08:00

Yes, I could go on and on about losing weight, or getting my finances in order, or organizing my house or organizing my office, or my quest to get my kids to listen to me....but I won't. I've decided to try something new and not rehash what I should be doing. Like losing weight, saving money, policing the kids and organizing the mess that surrounds me.

I've discovered over the life of this blog that people's lives are intertwined so beautifully and intricately. People, things and experiences that touch us resonate into other areas of our lives and bring up memories, help us to grow, help us heal. They sometimes provide outlets for our creativity and our need to express and to connect with others.

So this year, my blog will be dedicated to people who have crossed my path, whether it be face to face, or in a book, or through a blog or whatever. Maybe this sounds very "Secret Squirrel", but you'll get it as I roll (literally) through 2008.

Take for instance, one whom I've blogged on before: Abraham Lincoln. Me and Abe. Why do I, along with many people, find him so fascinating? What about his life sticks to me and makes me want to know more? Why is there more written on Abe (yes, part of it was the Civil War) than, for instance, Grover Cleveland? Or is it that I haven't researched Grover enough to know??? So should I research Grover more? Nah. Right now, my dance card is really full.

In an effort to clear the card (in anticipation of old age dementia), I'm gonna begin a series: the "Me And...." series. Like Me and Anne, Me and Monty Python, Me and the Three Stooges, Me and Colleen, Me and the other Colleen (who writes a beautiful blog I'll tell you about...Loose Leaf Notes--see the link in my Link Love list), Me and Susan (who writes another great blog, West of Mars -- also in the Link List), Me and the Delaney Sisters, Me and WAM (the crazy ex-husband), Me and MMD (I'll explain later). Like that.

Thanks to all of you who have crossed my path. You have saved my life in more ways that I can even begin to tell you.

So in the immortal words of Jackie Gleason..... And Away We Go!!!

Thursday Thirteen #20! Thirteen Men....

2008-01-02T18:00:00.000-08:00

...I Would Run Away With and Why. Perhaps the WHY part is more important here? And let me know of any similarities you see in my picks. It'll help me when I place my wish list on match.com. (Note to Sam: just kidding, honey!)

1. Robert Redford. Sure, you're thinking it's because of that still perfect head of hair. But no (well, maybe a little). It's because of Sundance...the film festival and all that beautiful land in Utah we could explore! With any luck, they'd never find us.

2. William Shatner. C'mon. Who laughs at himself better than the Negotiator? And truth be told, I've been a Shat-nerd since that Captain James Tiberius Kirk thing, but the Shat of the new millenium is funnier than hell. And funny is so attractive.

3. Tommy Lee Jones. It's that rugged man's man thing -- strong, street smart, totally confident, comfy in his own skin. So sexy. Someone to watch over me....and I wouldn't have to hold in my stomach.

4. Johnny Depp. Because one minute you'd be sleeping next to the man in Chocolat and the next that murderous singing barber, Sweeny Todd. Would definitely keep you on your toes. And then there's those deep, dark, expressive EYES. Whew.

5. Tom Selleck. The epitome of Tall, Dark and Handsome. And smart. Looks good in Hawaiian shirts. Could probably hold up the end of the car with one hand while changing the tire with the other. Or...maybe just hire someone to do the job while he kisses you up against that red ferrari (that's where the smarts come in).

6. Barry Manilow. Besides those magnificent piano playin' hands, he could wake you up by singing a love song he composed for you overnight. He's Type A and doesn't sleep anyway. Music and passion, honey, music and passion. It's that illusion of creative vulnerability -- and I fall for it every time.

7. David Duchovny. Great ass and poster man for the saying, "Smart is Sexy". All he would have to do is punch out a couple of those dry "Mulderisms" and I'd be a goner. (Altho Anne and I have debated if we should run away with the WRITER who WROTE the line, or Duchovny who interpreted and delivered the line....hmmm? Silence to those of you suggesting a menage a trois. I'm a one-man-at-a-time woman.)

8. Matthew Perry. I can't explain it. All I can say is "we love whom we love". He's like a stranded kitten and I couldn't resist him with wild horses dragging me the other way.

9. Hugh Grant. It's the whole package....the accent, the British-ness of him. All those feelings behind that stoic British exterior all saved up just for little ol' me. I feel I'm up to the challenge.

10. David Steinberg. I've loved him since the 1970's. He's been a stand up comedian, a director, a writer, an author and a talk show host. Funny, brilliant and so handsome. And since he was studying theology before he went into show business, my walking Old Testament. Who could resist a Moses joke?

11. Dick Cavett. A Yale graduated brainiac with a great sense of humor, I've adored him forever too. Anyone who can comfortably interview the likes of Janis Joplin, Truman Capote, Katherine Hepburn, John Lennon and hold his own with Groucho is someone I want to be with. I'd be a walk in the park next to the likes of them and I could talk all day without complaint.

12. John Cleese. I could listen to him talk for hours. Funny, smart, talented, saavy and kenetic...in a great package. Besides, he cleans up so well as a woman! And who could not love the man who portrayed the head of the "Ministry of Silly Walks", Basil Fawlty, and who blurted out, "I fart in your general direction" on the big screen?

13. Morgan Freeman. Strong, smart, totally sexy...I would follow him anywhere and not worry about a thing. Ever. He's one of those men that gives you the impression that if he says he loves you, he LOVES you...and that's that. You'd never have one moment of doubt. ahhh.....security.

And because I need someone UNDER 40 (and found this absolutely gorgeous picture of Leo):

14. Leonardo DiCaprio. Every movie he's in, I like him more and more and respect his talent more and more. Besides, he a staunch environmentalist ala Redford. So more and more I think I could run off with him and not look back. (As long we don't go by ship).

My Bad

2007-12-30T12:23:00.000-08:00

I've discovered an absolutely horrifying thing. Horrifying to the point of speechlessness (which is a biggie for me). If I spent as much time exercising, preparing my meals and planning my diet as I do blogging, checking emails, working on my Thursday Thirteen meme, and researching stuff for no reason on the internet, do you know I'd have NO WEIGHT ISSUES?

I realized this at 2am last night. I was working on a particularly visual TT for next week which required I do some serious internet hopping. I messed with it for like hours. Happy hours, mind you, but HOURS none-the-less.

It reminds me of a conversation I had with one of the doctors I work for. Seems he told a woman she needed a special test that insurance didn't pay for. It was $55.00. She balked. She hemmed and hawed. Said she would think about it. She wanted to discuss it with her husband and and and......

However, we decided that if he told that woman there was a special down the street -- manicure/pedicure for $55.00 -- she'd be gone so fast there would be dust in her wake.

I am currently at a deadend to explain this as I am just as guilty.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2007-12-28T13:20:00.000-08:00

Well, actually, my birthday was earlier in the month, but that's not the point. The point is that my friend Anne gave me a book entitled, "Write Your Novel This Year".

Writing a novel has been on my brain since I was probably young enough to write. I have pages and pages and pages of PIECES of stories that go back to when Dinosaurs Ruled the World. I have read many books on writing, read many magazines, even threw my hat into the NaNoWriNo ring, but only have stacks of papers with words written on them. I really have nothing to show the world for all the work and energy I have put into it.

Now I'm not complaining. I wrote almost 10,000 words during the month of November for NaNo, and for a single working mom with precious time to spare, I was pretty pleased with myself. When I look at the parts of stories I have created over the years, I see interesting characters and nominally interesting plots. (I am, by far, a character driven story writer). I see stories that have been written mostly for my own pleasure. I have been to other countries, been a celebrity, married celebrities, saved lives and captained the Enterprise.

But now, I have this urge to throw my pen into the ring and see what happens. However, all the advise I have heard or read is spinning in my head. Here are a few:

1. Write everyday. No matter what and/or: don't force yourself to write. Write when you are inspired.
2. Write for yourself, not to make money and/or: write for your audience
3. Find a quiet place to devote to your writing and/or: you can write anywhere, anytime

Hmm. Push me, pull you.

This brings me to a Manilow-ism: "Ask any songwriter how he writes a song, and none of them will give you a logical, step by step answer. We have no idea how we do it." I paraphrase, but you get the idea.

So what do I need to do? Uh....don't know. But that's ok. I just figure it's a journey and maybe I'll get there and maybe I won't.

Be prepared. I'm dragging you along for the ride.

Happy 2008!

Thursday Thirteen #19!

2007-12-19T16:00:00.000-08:00

Because of the holidays and precious little time to devote to higher pursuits, I give you a simple, honest Thursday Thirteen. So run away if you must, but here, for the first time written down for all to view, are my favorite Barry Manilow songs, not in any particular order:

1. Mandy. He didn't write it, but he rearranged it from a rock song titled "Brandy" and sings it beautifully. Still a fave that has held up very well over the last 30+ years.

2. Could It Be Magic. Could it be that I love this song because it is based on a Chopin prelude? Or could it be because my mother discovered this song for that very reason and was one of her favorites? I don't know. I still love it though.

3. Do You Know Who's Livin' Next Door. Done about 2001, it was on "Here at the Mayflower", the first album Manilow created totally on his own. All his compositions, all his arrangements, all his production, all his voice, and he played every instrument (except for Dave Koz on sax) or created it on a computer. He had to jump ship from Arista to RCA to record it because it wasn't considered a profitable undertaking, but the whole of "Mayflower" is one of his very finest.

4. I'm Coming Back. On the Mayflower album. This song is the one I used to sing to myself during a panic attack to get my brain out of panic mode. The melody is easy, the beat consistent and the words are sweet and able to get your mind off the fact that you may have to call 911.

5. Leavin' in the Morning. Fairly autobiographical (IMO, of course) about his decision to leave his wife and start his musical career. Very sad and very telling, but once again, a strong lyric and wonderful arranging.

6. One Voice. A beautiful song, whether he sings it with musical accompaniment or a cappella -- about his belief in the power we have to join together to help one another.

7. Nice Boy Like Me. What a fave -- has been for years! About a "nice" boy like Barry cruisin' chicks in a "place that never closes" -- and "lookin' so sad" cuz he just can't get any (yes, I know -- NOT biographical...well, at least not since 1975). Funny, upbeat, with his usual self-depreciating lyrical style.

8. Sweetwater Jones. On his first album and while his voice is a bit NY twangy and unpolished, the melody is catchy and the lyrics tell a good story. I also feel that way down deep, this one is fairly autobiographical too.

9. It's a Miracle. Just a "true blue spectacle" of a song. And really, even if you don't like Manilow, I bet you know all the lyrics to this song!

10. Who's Been Sleepin' in My Bed. "Gettin' what I get, when I don't get it..." A strong song, great melody, painful lyrics, with a story behind it (reportedly about his breakup with a longtime girlfriend). And you can even dance to it.

11. Baby, It's Cold Outside. With K.T. Oslin. Barry seducing K.T. with drink and god knows what else as the snow piles up outside. She fell for it---and so would alot of women I know! Was originally a song from the 40's sung by Ricardo Montelban and Esther Williams. Really.

12. When October Goes. Johnny Mercer's widow gave Manilow these lyrics after Mercer's death and asked Barry to put it to music. The result is a powerful, yet beautiful and delicate song -- and one that Mercer would be very proud of. It literally can bring you to tears.

13. You Could Show Me. A very short, sweet, simple song on the One Voice album and a demonstration of one of the secrets to Manilow's success -- telling the story of the lost, the lonely and the hopeful...a recurring theme in Manilow-land.

And because I simply couldn't leave it out:

14. Who Needs to Dream? ... "when there is you?" Probably one of the best love songs ever written and so very underappreciated. It's such a great love song that it practically yanks the tears out of your eyes. Story is that he wrote this for the tv movie "Copacabana" and when co-star Annette O'Toole heard it for the first time, she actually did cry.

So while I encourage you to pick up those cover albums (ah hem), Manilow's earlier stuff along with "Swing Street", "2AM Paradise Cafe" and "Here at the Mayflower" make up a pretty impressive body of work. Sure, he's the butt of alot of jokes, many of his own creation, but anyone who sells over 75,000,000 albums and is still around after 30 years has to have something going for him!

Music and Passion

2007-12-15T12:20:00.000-08:00

I'm warning you ahead of time that we are marching into Manilow country, but stick with me here for a minute. You must be fairly well aware that along with Abe Lincoln, I am a Barry Man-i-low-o-phile (trying saying that fast a couple times...spelling it is worse) but as I sit here in Sandusky, Ohio, about a 6 hour Amtrak train ride from my home in Chicago, I find I must write about the weekend I had.

My friend Colleen and I planned a trip to Cleveland Ohio to attend a Barry Manilow concert on December 14th. She has family here in Sandusky, and we ingratiated ourselves into their lives for a couple of days. As we were traveling around Colleen's old country stomping grounds, we looked up in the air to see this "thing" flying around. We looked again and again. We stared some more. We wiped our eyes, thinking we were having the same hallucination. But there he was. Beautiful. Amazing. A magnificent sight I will never forget in my entire life. Colleen threw her camera at me and I took this picture out of the car window:

I swear it was some kind of preview of the wonderful weekend I was going to have. There were laughs and Colleen's wonderfully warm family....and music and food and even a couple of happy tears. There was sleeping in and being lazy and meeting the new puppy, who dragged Colleen's socks all over the house and chewed up the little wrapper I had for the computer screen. Then of course, there was this:

Me, Colleen and 15,000 of our closest friends piled into the Quicken Arena to see Barry in concert. And we all had a blast. Even with a venue that size, Barry managed to keep it intimate and personal. I even think it was better than his Vegas show. It was simpler and toned down -- he knew he was playing for his fans and not for the Electricians Union Annual Vegas Convention. Barry does not need a multi media laser show for the majority of his long time fan base. We'd be happy with him, a piano, and a spotlight for 90 minutes.

So it was a miraculous weekend from all perspectives. The healing power of friendship, laughter and music is truly amazing. The only problem? In my excited and distracted state post concert, I left my cell phone, program, and only set of matching gloves in Colleen's car --- which is headed back to her home in Cincinnati as I head for Chicago. I only hope they have a safe trip.

Thursday Thirteen #18

2007-12-12T17:10:00.000-08:00

My girlfriend Anne and I went to Springfield Illinois to visit the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum. It was wonderful and we had a great time. Of course, both of us have always been "Abe-o-philes", but it really is a wonderful experience even if you aren't.

Anyway, I started reading this book about the women in Abe's life and the strong influence they had on him. So here, on this lovely Thursday, are 13 of "Abe's Babes" and who they were to him.

1. Mom. Nancy Hanks Lincoln. And yes, Tom Hanks IS a decendent. Died when Mr. L was a young lad. Although she was uneducated herself, she did encourage Abe in his academic (such as they were) pursuits, although there wasn't much she could do about Abe's Pa. Dad saw things differently and whipped Abe's ass for readin' when he shouldda been workin'. In dad's defense, memorizing the 23rd Psalm wasn't going to get a roof over their heads or food in their stomachs.

2. Stepmom. Sarah Johnston Lincoln. After Nancy's death, Thomas Lincoln left his 2 small kids to fend for themselves for about 6 months while he searched for a new wife. Shockingly, DCFS was not contacted, although Sarah found Abe and his sister cold, hungry and filthy when she came back with Thomas. She cleaned them up and brought books for the future President to mull over by firelight. She was notably one of the first to treat him with love and kindness.

3. Sis. Sarah. Died in childbirth at the age of 20 which sent him into a depressive tailspin. He blamed Sarah's husband for not caring for her properly when she went into labor.

4. Ann Rutledge. Do I need to explain? Is she a legend just in Illinois or does everyone know about her? You tell me. You need me to explain, I will. But get your kleenex ---- Lincoln depressive nosedive #2. Ann's grave is marked with these words: "Where Lincoln Wept". Need I say more?

5. Mary Owens. The New Salem storekeeper "proposed" to this Mary before she went away on a family trip to Kentucky. When she returned, she apparently had been eatin' pretty good and had beefed up to frightening proportions. He might have been worried that she could do some damage to his underweight frame in a moment of unbridled passion -- and ended it the way men have ended relationships for centuries. He manipulated the data so she had no other option but to end it herself.

6. Local Springfield working girl. (Oh, c'mon! -- really!) Story is he visited her after being told of her "services" by a mutual friend, Joshua Speed. The higher class "working girls" only accepted referrals from other clients, and Abe's friend gave him a note of introduction. The woman gave him the thumbs up, and she told him as he was unbuttoning his pants that the charge was $5.00 (quite a hefty sum considering the average person yanked in $2000 a year). He told her he only had $3.00. She laughed and said she knew who he was...a Springfield lawyer...and would trust him for the other 2 dollars. The story goes that Lincoln told her no, that he could not promise when he could pay her the other 2 dollars, so he buttoned up his trousers and started to leave. He tried to leave her the $3.00 for the time she spent with him, but she would not take it.

7. Mary Todd. I think she drove him crazy, but he seemed to remain crazy about her until the day he died. Anyway, they were introduced, then engaged, then sort of not engaged (depressive dive #3), then story says she used her wiles on him one dark and stormy night and they married within days. Robert Todd Lincoln was born 3 days short of their 9 month anniversary. Sure. She got pregnant on the honeymoon they didn't take. Happens ALL the time...but my guess is ol' Abe was smart enough to realize that once you "did it" before marriage with a society girl like Mary (not that I'm suggesting they DID, mind you...altho he did say Robert was "full of mischief that is the offspring of much animal spirits"), your ass better be at the justice of the peace ASAP before a piece of you was gunned down by her pa.

8. Matilda Edwards. During his "split" with Mary, he was introduced to her cousin, Matilda Edwards and fell in love with the 18 year old (as many 30 year old men do). Mary Todd's cousin was a beauty...she was young, pretty, quick witted and thin...and gave rise to his thinking that he did not really love Mary Todd. However, the future Mrs. Lincoln had other ideas...and I bet there was some tension over the family dinner table once Abe started courtin' Matilda. Mary managed to reem Abe a new one every time she saw him, knowing which buttons to push by telling him he was "honor bound" to marry her. He mulled this over for about 15 months until that one dark and stormy night.....and after Matilda turned down his marriage proposal.

9. Kate Chase. Mary hated her because she was like Matilda -- young, pretty, politically saavy and thin. Kate's dad was Salmon Chase, a presidential hopeful and part of the Lincoln administration. Abe admired her intelligence, her poise. His eyes adored her, but he never laid a hand on her. And if he had, Mary would have killed both of them.

10. Anna Ella Carroll. She wrote pamphlets that supported Lincoln's policies and singlehandedly helped to keep Maryland in the union. "I am writing to aid my country," she said. She was good at it and Lincoln knew it. While she did ask to be paid for her work and was refused, Lincoln did compliment her works to his cabinet members and acknowledged her talents to many.

11. Miss Grace Bedell, 11 years old. She wrote him a letter that changed how the world saw Mr. Abraham Lincoln, Springfield Lawyer, Presidential Elect, from that point forward. "Dear Mr. Lincoln", she wrote, "you ought to grow a beard. All the ladies like whiskers and they would tease their husbands to vote for you." He apparently listened.

12. Eliza Gurney. An amazing woman, they exchanged numerous letters over the course of his Presidency. She also visited him at the White house. She was the Quaker widow of a British banker who strengthened Lincoln's faith during the difficult years of war and personal loss. Some say she was one of the most important women in Lincoln's life and the topics they wrote and conversed about were imported into Lincoln's 2nd Inaugural Address.

13. Vinnie Ream. Mary hated her. She was young, beautiful and a talented sculptress. At 17, she eventually gained Lincoln's trust and started work on a bust of him, which continued throughout the winter of 1864-5. They became good friends and the finished bust was a hit with Lincoln, who was a noted supporter of woman suffrage. After Lincoln's assassination, Ream coveted the $10,000 commission to do a life-sized statue for the Capitol, although she met with alot of resistance, some from Mary. Vinnie eventually became the first woman, and at 19, the youngest artist, to ever get a federal commission for a work of art.

There were so many others: Harriet Beecher Stowe, Sojourner Truth, Lizzie Keckley, Dorothea Dix and finally, actress Laura Keene, who was in "Our American Cousin" at the Ford Theater and rushed to the presidential box after the shooting to cradle Lincoln's head in her lap.

So Where Have You Been?

2007-12-06T14:47:00.000-08:00

I don't know. Going crazy. Since Thanksgiving, I guess I've been overwhelmed. I could beat myself up good and proper now, but that would only add to my list of things to do.

My house is a wreck. I still have Halloween decorations up. I do believe Christmas is around the corner and is blipping on my radar.

Oh well. It'll get done. Somehow. Usually does.

Aren't you glad you stopped by????

Lifestyle Update

2007-11-23T20:40:00.001-08:00

Yes. I've sort of had it....as I am disgusted with myself. I've only gained maybe 5 pounds over the last couple of months, but it has all appeared in my midsection and as spotty horrid cellulite flesh. I could start the explanation phase of my dissertation (new job, more emails from the crazy ex, lawyers, fatigue, teeth trouble, the kids, my schedule, their schedules, menopause, hormones .... ok, you get the point) but I just must get beyond that and move on. Suck it up, as they say. (I wish I could suck it out).

I've told myself I wanted to lose weight for this or that reason. Upcoming events, to feel better, to enhance my self confidence, to ... well whatever. It never works. My metabolism is so screwed up that the only way I lose weight is to literally NOT EAT. And that's not healthy either. I must truly watch my diet, but increase my exercise by astronomical amounts. Amounts that will preclude my doing anything else but work and sleep (sorry, kids). Moderation my ass. I've tried moderation. I gained weight.

So we are now into the desperation phase as we have just crossed the Thanksgiving finish line and see Christmas and January 1, 2008 looming in the distance. But desperation is not a good look for me. I also am one of those people who don't do well if we don't see progress. I'm not even talking BIG progress. I mean like a pound a week. That's all the frick I'm asking for and even with dieting closely and exercising, I still can't do it most times.

I know. I was a yo-yo dieter and now my metabolism is screwed. However, I cannot believe there isn't something I can do. And I'd like to find something that will support me and not cost an arm and a leg (altho I could lose a good 15 pounds if I lose the leg....). So I found this Everyday Health website that seems to give good advice and be...yes, free.

So I'm taking the eHealth Holiday Challenge (see the link on the side bar) as I sit here and smell the chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven.

At least it's not outwardly self flogging. Yet.

Thursday Thirteen #17!

2007-11-14T19:14:00.000-08:00

As I am in incredible pain from an abscessed tooth, anesthesia and pain relief are utmost and foremost on my mind at this moment. Here are some facts about the history of pain relief:

1. The term anesthesia was coined by Oliver Wendell Holmes in 1846 and is defined as a reversible lack of awareness either total or specific to a certain part of the body.

2. The first recorded use of anesthesia was written on a papyrus dating back to 1500 BC. Then, opium poppy capsules were collected and a preparation was made to relieve pain.

3. Classic Greek and Roman medical texts discussed the use of opium and other herbal specimens, which proved a mainstay of pain relief until the 19th century.

4. Most anesthesia preparations were either ingested or smoked, but Incan shamans chewed coca leaves and spit into the wounds they were operating on to relieve the pain.

5. The crucial drawback to old methods were that there was no standarization and opiates, herbal remedies and even alcohol were "useless when too weak and deadly when too strong."

6. Even in ancient times, as often as possible, pain relievers were administered locally to reduce the risk of overdosing the patient.

7. A medicine containing willow leaves (a salicylate, the precursor of aspirin) was often applied to wounds to decrease inflammation.

8. In the late 1700's - early 1800's, doctors began experimenting with CO2 and nitrous oxide (laughing gas). It was mainly used by dentists to ease the pain of tooth extraction.

9. In January 1842, a dentist named William E. Clark used a compound called diethyl ether (originally discovered in 1510) to perform painless tooth extraction.

10. Ether and chloroform were used, but both are unstable and ether proved highly flammable. Because of this, cocaine was suggested as an alternate method of pain relief by Sigmund Freud. He originally suggested it to Dr. Karl Koller in 1884 to use during eye surgery on a patient.

11. The first public demonstration of the use of ether as an anesthetic agent was done at Massachusetts General Hospital by the dentist Dr. William Thomas Green Morton in October 1846. In a letter to Dr. Morton, Oliver Wendell Holmes sited the term anesthesia and Morton eventually patented the ether compound. which was still in use through the 1960's.

12. Eventually, a number of cocaine derivatives and safer replacements were soon produced, including procaine in 1905 and lidocaine in 1943.

13. Opiates continue to be used for pain relief, but are usually used with other agents such as intravenous non-opiate anesthetics or inhalants to produce unconsciousness for surgical patients.

Viva anesthesia!!!

Failure is NOT an Option

2007-11-13T09:48:00.001-08:00

NaNoWriMo update:

Still hovering around 3,000 words. However, and this could be a ploy to avoid the actual competition of NaNo, but I've started 2 other stories. One at a respectable 3000 words and another at a measly, but nonetheless productive, 1500.

So, in my effort to keep myself bouyant, I have added all the stories together into a genre hodgepodge and came up with a total of close to 9000 words written since the beginning of November.

Not anywhere near the 20,000 I should be at, and spaced between a romance, chicklit and a fictional short story, but still. 9,000 words.

I heard a story about a women who went to medical school at 40 years of age. She was criticized for being too old and was told she couldn't keep up physically with the challenges. It took her several years and when she was 46 and a physician with her own practice they asked her how she did it.

She said, "I just figured I'd get older either way and gave 100%."

Point well taken.

Abuse 101

2007-11-12T21:09:00.000-08:00

For those of you wishing to learn the finer nuances of abuse, whether to hone your craft or be aware of the bag of tricks an abuser uses, allow me to introduce you to one that is a favorite of my ex. It was the tool he used many a time to inform me of the continuous error of my ways. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: The Driveway Ambush.

Here are the steps you need to follow in order to create this work of art. You, as the justified wronged one, first must get good and angry about something. Anything. It can do with the ex or the kids or child support or your job or how your football team lost or how your girlfriend doesn't dress right or how your mother beat you as a child. Whatever. Get yourself primed and whipped up. Decide that the only relief you will get revolves around addressing the one that REALLY causes all your pain: your EX! You must, simply must, drive to the house you once shared and give that woman a piece of your obviously superior mind. Set her straight. You know it will help ease your gnawing pain....and what else is your ex good for? So jump in your car and begin your journey. Start swearing. A lot. Pound on the steering wheel until it hurts. Give other motorists as well as those damn pedestrians the finger. And really mean it. Honk and honk and honk at people in your lane or in any lane. Take Road Rage to new heights. Dare a squirrel to cross your path and survive. Continue to your old house and wait for your ex-wife to come home. Must be timed perfectly so you arrive about 10 minutes BEFORE she gets home from work. You can get even angrier that you had to wait on someone who should have KNOWN that you were gonna show up.

Car placement is very, very important in the “Driveway Ambush.” It has to be positioned just so to be effective -- about 5 feet from the front door, with the front fender just about even with the nearside door frame. Personal body location is also important here. You must be stationed between the car and the front door, so that the ex-wife would have to pole-vault over the evergreen in order to avoid you and get into the house.

Then, and here’s the pinnacle: Stand there and wait. Folding of the arms is okay, but leaning on the car or standing on one foot or the other is not allowed. Straight and tall is the order of the day. Hands on the hips is only used to punctuate, and must be accompanied by a 20-25 degree pitch forward from the waist, usually reserved for the full strike intimidation phase.

The problem is, like Pavlov’s dogs, they eventually learn. If they see your car in the driveway, the little chickens just keep on driving. And driving. And driving. So don't overuse this handy weapon in the quest for ultimate control because it can lose it's efficacy once the victim gets smart or hires a bodyguard. And for heaven's sake, you certainly don't want any violence.

Thursday Thirteen #16!

2007-11-07T18:00:00.000-08:00

13 Jobs I Have Had, Not in Any Particular Order:

**And yes, I can hear you: not my most original or witty TT, but hey, I'm trying to produce 2 billion words a day for NaNoWriMo -- what do you want from me? :-)

1. Waitress/Hostess (like almost every other woman I know)
2. Legal Secretary (sucked. Absolutely sucked)
3. Receptionist (I was 19, my first job in the city. It was fun and left me lots of time to daydream about other things...)
4. Radio Traffic Reporter (working hours were nasty: 5am-10am and then 3pm-7pm. But it was fun being on the radio and I learned to talk about 100 mph.)
5. Medical Staff Secretary (working with doctors is always fun, ain't it??)
6. Office Manager for a Chiropractor (zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz)
7. Billing Manager for Doctor's Office (it was actually fun and I learned so much about medical billing.)
8. Patient Coordinator in Pediatric Cardiology (hard. Very, very hard dealing with sick babies and little children)
9. Babysitter (my first, first job. The kids played and I watched "All My Children")
10. Practice Manager for OB/GYN group (I love to hear the sounds of the fetal monitors registering the little heartbeats!!)
11. Cashier (now this is fun -- worrying that the next person who comes in has an eye on your register and a gun in his pocket)
12. Data entry person (see number 6)
13. Cleaning lady (hard work and very little reward)

36 years of almost uninterrupted employment!!!

Crash and Burn

2007-11-06T20:04:00.000-08:00

Ok. According to the www.nanowrimo.org website, as of this moment I have 24 days, 1 hour and 53 minutes to write about 47,000 more words to hit the 50,000 mark. There has been approximately 171,000,000 words written so far by the entire collective.

That is one shitload of words.

I contributed about 3000 to that pile and I figure I must write 1,958 words PER DAY to reach the 50,000 goal. Yes. I know what you are thinking. Not a chance in hell.

I seem to write way too slowly and have precious little time to devote to the pursuit. However, I am not deterred. I shall march bravely on, like a little Kamikazi novelist, knowing that at the end, I will crash and burn.

My new, more realistic goal is 25,000 words by 11/30/07. Then next year, I'll start writing in August like everyone else and hit that 10,000 word mark in 3 days like all the others!! There are all these people posting that they've hit 10,000, 20,000 words since 11/1. I can't even spit out that many words talking in that time frame. And trust me, I'm an expert talker. Something tells me they were typing and formulating and plotting way before 11/1/07. I registered 10/31 and started typing 11/2/07, not knowing what the hell I was writing about.

I'm rather proud I've gotten this far! So onward I march, even sacrificing my very nice long nails for a shorter version, quicker on the keyboard.

Wish me luck. I'll need it.

What Have I Done -- Parts 1 and 2

2007-11-03T11:00:00.000-07:00

Is it hormones? Is it menopause? Is it the looming specter of empty nest syndrome? Or is it a woman who, after surviving an abusive marriage with the help of dear friends and 6 years of psychotherapy, has finally starting rediscovering who she is and what she wants to do?

I don't know. The flip side shouts that perhaps the meds aren't working as they should.

But over the last week, I've done some fairly uncharacteristic things. And I have more in the works. I'm relatively free of my ex, although those emails still keep coming in, which I will share with you again soon, I have a good job that I like, I have dear, true friends, my kids are growing into healthy adults. Sure the shit hits the fan and I take a nose dive, but I'm starting to do things just for me. I do have leftover Ex baggage which manifests itself in my little voice telling me I can't, I shouldn't, I'm not smart enough, I'm not organized enough, I don't have the time, the stress will make me eat more, eating more will make me fat-ter....etc. You get the point.

But I've stopped listening -- most of the time.

I didn't listen when I signed up to participate in NaNoWriMo (www.nanowrimo.org) which is National Novel Writing Month. 50,000 words in 30 days. I've done 1324 words as of today and have no idea what else I am going to type! I'm looking forward to the challenge and just hoping I can make it to 30,000 words. I'd be happy with that! There's always next year!

Then, I signed up through the Manilow Fund for Health and Hope (www.manilowfund.org) to attend a charity event next year which includes a "how do you do" with Mr. Manilow himself. I saw the ticket on line, I waited 48 hours, a ticket was still available and I took it. I can't believe I did it. It so isn't "me".

But I've decided these things -- NaNo and Manilow -- are good things. I'm breaking free of the victim I was and seeing things through totally different eyes. Don't get me wrong -- it's taken a long time to get here. A Long Time. But it is so worth it.

For any of you healing from abusive relationships, get therapy. Talk to your friends. Don't isolate yourself. Try new things. Realize you are going to backpeddle sometimes, but that's ok. Progress will be made.

You are worth every single thing you do for yourself -- silly or not!

Questions I Have Been Asked

2007-11-01T20:25:00.000-07:00

I got one of those "Getting to Know You" emails from a friend and one of the questions was: "What do you rely on most?"

Now I believe most people answered their "higher power", or a family member or themselves. You know what is the first thing that popped into my head?

What do I rely on most: The Kindness of Strangers.

This is not to say I don't believe in a Higher Power or have wonderful friends. I do and I do. But there are so many times in my life that some person I hardly know held my hand or gave me a word of encouragement or made me laugh.

This has firmly rooted my belief in the basic goodness of people and has led to my being taken down the "stoney road" once in a while. But lumps and bumps aside (and one crazy ex-husband) I still believe that people are basically good and kind. Most of the time.

So thank you to those either in person or in blog who practiced "Random Acts of Kindness". You have made me smile and lifted a sometimes heavy heart.

I only hope I have done the same for you.

Thursday Thirteen #15

2007-10-31T14:58:00.000-07:00

13 Things about His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama

I am reading the book "How To Practice The Way to a Meaningful Life" by his holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama. It's a great book, easily read and understood and prompted me to find out more about the history of the Dalai Lamas, who are the religious heads of the people of Tibet.

I remember first hearing about the Dalai Lama when the actor Richard Gere became a Buddhist and brought the occupation of Tibet by China into the forefront. It was then I heard that the Dalai Lama had to flee his country to India for safety and how the people of Tibet have suffered under Chinese rule.

So without further ado, here are 13 things about his holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama:

1. The title Dalai Lama is granted to the each of the previous leaders successive reincarnations. In other words, after the passing of the 13th Dalai Lama, his reincarnation will be titled the 14th Dalai Lama. This position is one of both head of state and spiritual leader of the people of Tibet.

2. Upon the death of a Dalai Lama, his monks begin the search for his reincarnation in the form of a small child. This search lasts usually several years and the "chosen one" generally demonstrates some familiarity with the possessions of the previous Dalai Lama.

3. Once the "golden child" is chosen, he is taken to Lhasa to be trained by the other Lamas. His curriculum consisted of 5 major and 5 minor subjects: Logic, Tibetan art and culture, Sanskrit, medicine and Buddhist philosophy; the minor subjects being: poetry, music and drama, astrology, motre and phrasing and synonyms.

4. On December 17, 1933 the 13th Dalai Lama passes away at the age of 57.

5. On July 6, 1935, Tenzin Gyatso is born in Taktser, Kumbum (Amdo).

6. At the age of 4, he travels for 3 months to Lhasa and later that year there is public declaration of the Official Recognition of the 14th Dalai Lama.

7. He begins his monastic education at the age of five in 1940 and at the age of 15 on November 17, 1950 assumes full political power after the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1949.

8. From December 16, 1950 to 1959, the Dalai Lama was constantly moved due to threats by the Chinese military leaders. He visits China for peace talks extensively from 1954 to 1955, but by 1959, he narrowly escapes his homeland after the Chinese fire artillery shells at his residence.

9. On March 30, 1959, the Dalai Lama enters India and has remained in exile since.

10. During the 1960's and 1970's, he travels extensively throughout Europe and the west, not pleading his specific cause, but for peace between all nations.

11. He addresses Congress on September 21, 1987 with the proposed peace plan: transformation of the whole of Tibet into a zone of peace; abandonment of China's population transfer policy that threatens the very existence fo the Tibetans as a people; respect for the Tibetan people's fundamental human rights and democratic freedoms; restoration and protection of Tibet's natural environment and China's use of Tibet for the production of nuclear weapons and dumping of of nuclear waste; and the commencement of earnest negotiations concerning the future of the relations between the Tibetan and Chinese people.

12. December 10, 1989 the Dalai Lama is awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace in Oslo, Norway.

13, The Dalai Lama is the first Nobel Laureate to be recognized for his concern for global environmental problems.

Here is his chair in Tibet, where one day the man who describes himself as a "simple Buddhist monk" hopes he will be able to rest in once again.

Hospital Holiday

2007-10-29T19:59:00.000-07:00

Sure. I miss my Thursday Thirteen and then I missed the entire next weekend because I took a Hospital Holiday on Friday and Saturday.

As a rule, Hospital Holidays are awful. Food sucks, you can't get decent cable channels, no one lets you sleep and the beds are just forensic autopsy tables with a white sheet over them. Room service is atrocious and you have to sleep with strangers with only a thin sheet hanging between you and whatever bodily functions they need to discuss or operate.

The lady next to me moaned the entire time. She kept calling the hospital operator (not the nurse's station) to ask for a bedpan for her hotel room. Everyone from the hospital operator to the nurses thought she was a prank caller and no one answered her requests until she started screaming that she had an accident in the bed.

I have already put in special requests to those closest to me that if I ever get like that, they have my permission to drive me out into the country, kick me out of the car and leave me for dead.

All I wanted to do was have my tests, rest and go home. While I felt extremely sorry for her, I wanted her to remember that midnight is NIGHT and is the typical time for a trip to REM sleep, but she didn't quite understand that. Well, not until 5 am when she shut off the light, the TV and fell into a blissfully undisturbed sleep, while I was awakened by my doctors and the need to go have tests.

I wondered though, did she plan on living in the 1940's during her dementia and waiting for Errol Flynn to pick her up for their date at the Brown Derby? You know, my friends and I have PLANS for our dementia. This frightening incident awakened me to the fact that we need to be prepared for a Dementia Plan B, in case I can't remember who George Harrison is, Anne can't remember Sir Paul and Colleen can't recall who the hell that boy from Brooklyn was whom she thought was so HOT.

This is a sad state of affairs. I had been looking forward to my old age, sitting in the rocking chair, fully mentally immersed in the 1960's London music scene, with George driving us back to our house in Esher in the new mini. Now, I face the fact that I might be screaming for a nurse to deliver a bed pan to my hotel room and then rotating only these 2 thoughts: #1 -- I WANT TO GO HOME and #2 -- I DON'T WANT TO GO HOME.

And you are completely right. My roomie did nothing to help my panic/anxiety attack, chest pain and shortness of breath (my standard hospital ER diagnosis). However, the tests show that my heart is fine. My panic isn't so fine, but I'll keep working on it.

I will also contact Anne and Colleen. We must begin preparing Dementia Plan B. Perhaps I could convince Colleen that I could take the boy from Brooklyn.....

Mental Vacation

2007-10-24T22:20:00.000-07:00

I started my new job and my brain completely forgot it was Wed, which in my world means "Thursday Thirteen". Go figure.

So TT'ers -- I'll stop by and visit you and I'll be 13-ing next week!

To The Left Of Normal....

2007-10-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

I am basically a sane person. I manage to get to work daily, feed my kids, get them to the dentist twice a year, make sure the cats have water and throw bleach in the toilet every week. Yes, my laundry piles up and sometimes (alot of times) there are dishes in the sink. Regardless, Sean and Erin are fairly well adjusted, can speak in full sentences and say "excuse me" if they burp. Their knuckles do not drag on the ground when they walk, nor do they drool (while awake).

However, I am a bit "touched". I've always been "touched". I've been "touched" as far back as I can remember.

I said one time to my friend Colleen in a alcohol fueled exclusive that I frequently "talk" to myself -- I also "talk" to fictional characters, I "talk" to celebritites, I wonder what conversation I would have with Abe Lincoln or Mary Lincoln, for that matter. I know at some point I will be in the nursing home psych unit, thinking I am George Harrison's wife and waiting for my man to come home from tour.

I comfort myself by saying this is the writer in me. I make up conversations with Mr. Spock and Fox Mulder and Keith Richards and John Barrymore. In my imagination, I've been to the Academy Awards, the Emmy's, the Tony's. I've been to celebrity parties, Van Cliburn's triumphant 1958 piano concert in Moscow and walked the red carpet (about 50 pounds thinner in a lovely black dress). I've solved warp drive problems with Mr. Spock and finally found Fox Mulder's long lost sister. And I don't know HOW many times John Lennon and I sat around talking about the 60's.

But low and behold, Colleen admitted during our stationary trip to Tanked-Town that she did the same thing. She also comforted herself by saying this was the creative in her and knew that one day, sitting zoned out at the Home, she mentally would be waiting for her man, Barry Manilow, to come off the stage so she could....well, never mind. I can say no more except if Manilow knew, he'd be dating her tomorrow.

This prompted me to postulate that specifically engineered insanity is a good thing. It keeps the creative juices flowing, you can visit any place in the world or talk to anyone you wish. I'm glad I'm "touched". But I'm also glad to find that I'm not alone. Even if it's just me and Colleen, (and probably Anne...hmmm? Waiting for Sir Paul??) we'll be the happiest 3 old ladies in the psych ward they've ever seen.