S---E---X .................... A.U.E.R began with a compromise

I'd been single for a long time!  My daughters were raised.  I'd worked hard, owned my own home (small but mine) and was supremely independent.  By the time I met Rick, Marisa was married and had two daughters.  Jaclyn was finishing up her second year at Case Western in Ohio and on track for med school.  So ....  My name was my name.  I didn't need another one. Especially THAT one. 

But ... Try as I might Rick could not be persuaded to change his name.  I suggested my name.  No go.  I suggested his middle name (Lee).  He was still not interested.  Maybe hyphenate?  Never, he said.  I offered to flip through a phone book and choose a random inoffensive name.  No.  He said he liked his name and he was just old fashioned enough to want me to take his name. 

So at ages 54 (me) and 56 (him) we compromised.  I'd had my phone number for 30 years, I said.  Everyone that mattered knew how to find me, I insisted.  If I took his name AND changed my number, they might lose me forever.   Fair is fair, I said.  So ... I changed my name to his ... and he changed his phone number to mine. 

Twelve years later, I sort of like the shock value of my new last name.  When necessary, I spell it slowly with a long, dramatic pause after the first three letters.

Two year hiatus ... over! Maybe.

Two years ... it's been a two-year absence from posting to my blog.  I finally caught on to what retirement is all about and I've just had no time.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Here's what I know about myself.  I'm really good at starting things and never (sometimes) finishing them.

For example, I decided to learn how to play racquetball.  Remember racquetball?  Me either.  What I do remember is that it was the "in" thing to do; i.e., all the popular kids (grownups) were playing.  So off I went.  I bought cute shorts, cuter tops, new court-approved sneakers.  Oh I looked good!  I bought a couple more outfits.  I bought a racket.  I was ready!  And I was obsessed.  It lasted a week or two. Racquetball just wasn't my thing.

In April, I gave Rick a present.  Well, actually it started with him giving me a present ... way back in 2004.  He bought me a set of golf clubs so I could join him in his beloved sport.  Over the years, a grandson or two might have used them a time or two.  Every once in a while he would remind me that I had a set of golf clubs standing in a corner of the garage gathering dust.

Oh, yes, April. That's Rick's birthday month.  What do you give a man who has everything and doesn't want anything that isn't golf-related?  Well, my bright idea was to give him the gift of golf lessons - for ME.  Ta-da!  I was feeling clever and oh-so-enthusiastic.

Can you see it coming?  I bought cute shorts, cuter tops, golf-course approved shoes, AND a visor.   Of course I did!  I looked good.  I looked like a golfer.  I took lessons in Arizona ... every day, except weekends, for 7 days!  I came back to California and called Pierre - he's the golf pro that handles beginner lessons at a golf course near our home. I took one lesson.  I learned that my golf clubs were outdated.  I needed a new set pronto!

Whew!  Then the voice of reason spoke!  Believe me, when I get going I usually tune that voice out.  This time, the voice wasn't all in my head.  The voice had a name: Rick.  You guessed it.  No new golf clubs that were going to stand in the corner of the garage gathering dust for another 11 years.  Golf just isn't my thing.

Books, words, writing.  They're more my thing.  I'm going to give this blog-thing another go. 

Brunch with a side of Bookstore. Perfect.

Sometimes you have just the perfect sort of day.   It starts with waking up from a great sleep.  My normal is to wake up to a screaming bladder about 4:00 am.  Eyes wide open.  Brain ready to roll.  And Jus' Kid'n thinking it's time for breakfast.  Today, I rolled over and fell back to sleep.  Perfect. 

Rick had reservations for brunch at a secret location.  He asked me to keep my eyes closed as he drove.  I didn't peek, but I did try to guess.  I leaned in to the turns, listened for the rushing traffic as we entered the freeway, noted the diminished light as we went under overpasses.  I almost guessed it, but I thought we were across the street from ... Napa Tavern in Westlake Village.

The company was ideal; the conversation interesting; the mimosa was sparkling; the array of food was deliciously varied; the coffee was hot; and I didn't eat too many desserts.  Perfect.

If I had to choose a favorite spot to spend a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon, I'd probably always choose a bookstore.  Ah-ha!  Lucky me!  Barnes and Nobles was a short minute away!  This visit, I decided to browse the magazines.  I actually never made it past two shelves on one rack.  In short order, I found more than a dozen magazines that were calling my name.  The magazines and I retired to a well-lit corner and a comfy chair.  Perfect. 

I brought home a few "crafty" magazines and a "boxful of words."  I love words.   

I can't wait to get started!  Look at all the fun contained in those magazines: 350+30+230+400+ probably too many to count in the Paper magazine. I'm sure I can think of some interesting word play, too.  Hours and hours of fun to be had!!!  Perfect.

But wait, there's more!  Check out that low Shanghai Rummy score!  I won the card game! 

The night's not over.  There's a bit of knitting to be done on the Brandywine Shawl.  And a pretty good book waiting in my Kindle.


Perfect.

 

When We Were Orphans - Book Review

Published:  2000

It's about:  As a small child living in Shanghai, Christopher Banks is orphaned.  First his father disappears and, within weeks, his mother does as well. 

I thought:  Orphans Sarah and Jennifer weren't as fleshed out as they could have been.  I
Verdict:  ★★★
It started out strong.  Once Christopher Banks arrived in Shanghai to "rescue" his missing parents, he lost me.  I had a tough time getting through the book. 

Reading recommendation:  Probably not.  You'll like Ishiguro much better if you read "Never Let me Go". 

Favorite Quotes:  "Perhaps there are those who are able to go about their lives unfettered by such concerns. But for those like us, our fate is to face the world as orphans, chasing through long years the shadows of vanished parents. There is nothing for it but to try and see through our missions to the end, as best we can, for until we do so, we will be permitted no calm."

“All I know is that I've wasted all these years looking for something, a sort of trophy I'd get only if I really, really did enough to deserve it. But I don't want it anymore, I want something else now, something warm and sheltering, something I can turn to, regardless of what I do, regardless of who I become. Something that will just be there, always, like tomorrow's sky. That's what I want now, and I think it's what you should want too. But it will be too late soon. We'll become too set to change. If we don't take our chance now, another may never come for either of us.” 

ME - My Love of True Crime, Mysteries and Scary Movies

How did I get to be me?  What influenced me?  Who influenced me?  I'm looking for specifics here ... not the generality of my Catholic school education nor my belief in a Higher Power.  This won't be an ongoing treatise on religious or political leanings.  Well, maybe you'll hear about them at some point.  Of course you will, who am I kidding?  I'm going to explore  ~ go on an archeological dig, so to speak ~ let's see what I excavate.   

I think I'll take it slow and choose a different facet of myself every week or two.

My love of true crime, mysteries, and scary movies. 

The seed was probably planted by the second movie I ever saw, "House on a Haunted Hill," 1959.   (I'll tell you about the first movie another day).

Quick synopsis:  a rich guy and his wife invite a handful of people to their home on Haunted Hill for a haunted house party.  Whoever stays all night will earn $10,000 (seems like a paltry sum today).   Turns out they can't actually leave.  The movie provides every flavor of fright:  skeletons, murder, dead people, mayhem and that staple of the scary movie: blood-curdling screams.

I was nine years old and loved every minute of it.   I remember the skeleton that was suspended from a wire in the theater and was released to fly over our heads ~ at the scene in the film where it was calculated to cause the most fear.  I remember the exact moment when one of the female stars opened her overnight bag to find the severed head of one of the House's other guests.  I remember the music building to a crescendo every time something frightening was about to happen.  I remember the smooth but oh-so-sinister tone of Vincent Price's voice.  Yes, still today, I can conjure it up and remember how it was to be nine and scared silly.

Then I discovered Edgar Allen Poe.  I couldn't get enough of him.  The Tell Tale Heart.  The Pendulum.  The Gold Bug.  The Purloined Letter.  The Masque of the Red Death.   Cask of Amontillado.  The Black Cat.  The Murders in the Rue Morgue.  Those are just the titles that come to mind in an instant.  For sure, The Raven. 

The rumors surrounding his life, lifestyle and death left me aghast, but they served to heighten the intrigue.  He had married his 14-year old cousin.  He was a derelict.  He died in a drunken stupor.  Oh, I should have mentioned that I was 13 years old.  So impressionable.  And impress me he did. 

This man will figure again in the unfolding of ME.  Nope, no hints. 

By the time I read this book, probably in 1967 or 1968 (age 17 or 18), I was already a voracious reader. 

In eighth grade I decided to read every non-fiction author (alphabetically) that my small public library branch had to offer.  I had read through Thomas B. Costain's The Black Robe and The Silver Chalice before I got distracted and started haphazardly choosing titles from all over that building. 

Somehow I got my hands on In Cold Blood.  Mr. Capote allowed me to be the fly on the wall.  I was in on the planning, the execution (no pun intended) and the aftermath of the crime: the home invasion, burglary and murder of a family of four in Kansas.  I was in the mind of the criminal; I was the innocent victim; I was law enforcement, judge and jury. 

With Helter Skelter (read in 1976 or 1977), my fascination ~ um, obsession ~ with true crime came into full bloom.  On occasion, I still "google" Charles Manson, Patricia Kernwinkel, Squeaky Fromme, Charles Watson.

Yes, I watched "live" as O. J. Simpson drove the Golden State Freeway in his white Bronco.  I lunched at Mezzaluna and drove by Nicole Brown Simpson's condo and peeked over O. J.'s back fence.  I've cheered as countless murderers have been found "guilty" and second-guessed the jury when they weren't (Scott Peterson on death row; Casey Anthony scott-free). 

Travis Alexander Home, Mesa, AZ
March 31, 2013



You guessed it ... today I'm fixated with the Jodi Arias case.

The Green & Green Grass of Home



February 7, 2013

 I knew it was bad, but I was trying to be patient.  Or maybe I was just in denial.  And then the missionary who rang my doorbell didn't even try to convert me to whatever it was he was selling.  He even forgot to hand me the tract he had in hand.  Instead he said, "Can I ask you a question?  I can see that you just re-did your front lawn.  Is it supposed to look like this?  A striped lawn?"  He was really embarrassed to ask, he said, but he thought that maybe, in this neighborhood, it was something new and cool. 

Confronted this way, by a religious person, the truth could not be avoided.   "No," I said, "it's not supposed to look that way.  It just turned out awful."  I might have been holding back tears. 

Now what?

April 7, 2013

Well, the landscaper overseeded the old grass, watered every day like crazy, overseeded one more time, added fertilizer and watered some more.   He suggested we wait a few weeks.  If it doesn't improve dramatically, we'll have to take drastic (and more expensive measures).

We waited two months.  Here's what it looks like now.  It does look better, doesn't it?  Maybe the missionary fellow should stop by one more time and be brutally inquisitive. 

Meantime, we have a patchwork quilt of greens.  Final outcome still pending. 

   



Night ~ Book Review

Published:  Most recent publication, translation by Marion Wiesel, 2006

It's about:  Elie Wiesel tells his own holocaust survivor's story.  At the age of 15, Elie Wiesel, a Hungarian Jew, and his family are gathered up into a cattle car and transported to Birkenau, Germany.  Upon their arrival, his mother and sisters are separated from Elie and his father.  His mother and youngest sister, Tzipora, are never seen again and it's inferred that they perished in the crematoriums.  Elie and his father suffer humiliation, beatings, forced labor and starvation at Birkenau, Buna and Auschwitz.  His father is ultimately killed in the crematorium at Auschwitz, just weeks before it is liberated by Americans.  No mention is made of the fate of his other two sisters, Hilda and Beatrice. (I researched.  They survived). 

The story is particularly poignant because Elie suffers not only at the hands of the SS, but suffers his own internal crisis of faith.  At the beginning of his memoir, Elie is a teenager dedicated to his Jewish faith, to his study of the Talmud and to his desire to grow in spirituality.  His experiences cause him to doubt the existence of God. 

I thought:  There can never be enough reminders about the horrors of the Holocaust.  This is one of the least graphic that I have read, but it nevertheless reminded me that we are capable of unimaginable atrocities in the name of race and religion.  It is a call to action:  we must take a stand against oppression of any kind.    

Verdict: ★★★★★
There is some controversy as to whether this lastest translation is "consistent" with the original text published in 1958.  The current translation makes corrections to dates and ages, leading some to suspect its authenticity.  The author maintains that the changes were made to make it as truthful as possible.  Night is published as a memoir. 

Reading recommendation:  Read it.  You won't forget it.  It's a quick read; a mere 120 pages, including the text of Elie Wiesel's Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech (1986).

Favorite Quotes: “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere. When human lives are endangered, when human dignity is in jeopardy, national borders and sensitivities become irrelevant."

“Human suffering anywhere concerns men and women everywhere.”

"Blessed be God's name? Why, but why would I bless Him? Every fiber in me rebelled. Because He caused thousands of children to burn in His mass graves? Because he kept six crematoria working day and night, including Sabbath and the Holy Days? Because in His great might, He had created Auschwitz, Birkenau, Buna, and so many other factories of death? How could I say to Him: Blessed be Thou, Almighty, Master of the Universe, who chose us among all nations to be tortured day and night, to watch as our fathers, our mothers, our brothers, end up in the furnaces? Praised be Thy Holy Name, for having chosen us to be slaughtered on Thine altar?”