and I just popped back home to see that the floors are halfway removed!
Yay!
Friday, November 30, 2018
Thursday, November 29, 2018
Cinderella
Most of us grew up with the Disney version of Cinderella, happily ever afterwards, magic and all. But there are over 900 very different versions of this story worldwide--as I learned in last night's class taught by Marga Speicher, a Jungian analyst.
She read a German version--complete with the cutting off of toes (one stepsister's) and heels (the other stepsister's) and the plucking out of their eyes--grim indeed. Folktales were pre-TV nighttime entertainment meant for adults, not children.
Marga reads these different versions with the lens of psychoanalysis, asking "What do each of the characters represent in us?"
How are we like Cinderella, whose beloved mother died and left her with an indifferent father? How are we like the stepsisters, who in this tale mutilated their feet as their mother commanded them to do to fit into a shoe (or something else) that doesn't belong to us? In what ways do we require others to cut off parts of themselves to please us?
Someone asked, "What's the difference between fairy tales and folk tales?" Fairy tales are for children, for one thing, and they tend to focus on magic. Folk tales are more nuanced and fully-developed tales.
There was no fairy godmother in this German version. When the prince tracked down the mysterious woman with whom he'd danced at the ball, the stepmother presented her other daughters and never considered that the cinder-covered maid might be the one he was looking for. The shoe was too tight in the toe for one, so the mother told her to cut off her toe--and she did.
A bird told the prince, "Look down and see the blood on the shoe." And the prince (not particularly astute, it seems) returned the wrong girl to her mother who simply produced the other daughter!
The shoe was too big in the heel. "Cut off your heel," the mother said--and she did.
Same bird, same message.
Based on this story alone, I'm not so sure the prince is the most enviable prize. Maybe he was a handsome dullard, maybe not--but that's for the reader to decide.
But all folktales protagonists are seeking some prize, gift, or destination. Following the model of Joseph Campbell's "Hero's Journey," he or she sets out on a journey and encounters challenges--otherwise there would be no story. Along the way, good helpers appear and lessons are learned.
She read a German version--complete with the cutting off of toes (one stepsister's) and heels (the other stepsister's) and the plucking out of their eyes--grim indeed. Folktales were pre-TV nighttime entertainment meant for adults, not children.
Marga reads these different versions with the lens of psychoanalysis, asking "What do each of the characters represent in us?"
How are we like Cinderella, whose beloved mother died and left her with an indifferent father? How are we like the stepsisters, who in this tale mutilated their feet as their mother commanded them to do to fit into a shoe (or something else) that doesn't belong to us? In what ways do we require others to cut off parts of themselves to please us?
Someone asked, "What's the difference between fairy tales and folk tales?" Fairy tales are for children, for one thing, and they tend to focus on magic. Folk tales are more nuanced and fully-developed tales.
There was no fairy godmother in this German version. When the prince tracked down the mysterious woman with whom he'd danced at the ball, the stepmother presented her other daughters and never considered that the cinder-covered maid might be the one he was looking for. The shoe was too tight in the toe for one, so the mother told her to cut off her toe--and she did.
A bird told the prince, "Look down and see the blood on the shoe." And the prince (not particularly astute, it seems) returned the wrong girl to her mother who simply produced the other daughter!
The shoe was too big in the heel. "Cut off your heel," the mother said--and she did.
Same bird, same message.
Based on this story alone, I'm not so sure the prince is the most enviable prize. Maybe he was a handsome dullard, maybe not--but that's for the reader to decide.
But all folktales protagonists are seeking some prize, gift, or destination. Following the model of Joseph Campbell's "Hero's Journey," he or she sets out on a journey and encounters challenges--otherwise there would be no story. Along the way, good helpers appear and lessons are learned.
Me and My House #3
Tomorrow the floors come up, and the new wood is ordered and will arrive Tuesday or Wednesday. Almost everything I own has been moved into the living room, with Will helping me this morning before donning his Santa hat and buying a bird!
I'm very impressed with Advanced Hardwood Company, and after a week of making daily trips there, bringing home samples, and comparing them, I'm very happy with my choice--the floors should be completed by the end of next week if we're lucky.
I'm very impressed with Advanced Hardwood Company, and after a week of making daily trips there, bringing home samples, and comparing them, I'm very happy with my choice--the floors should be completed by the end of next week if we're lucky.
Wednesday, November 28, 2018
Altar to the Dead
The body and the mind are connected in so many ways, and I have found healing countless times in the massages of my dear friend, Cecelia Britton. Today I spent an hour on her magic table and am renewed in my energy and the pain of this morning is gone!
Cecelia told me about her Day of the Dead altar and I wanted to share it with you.
Every year, she makes an altar to people she loves who have died. At night, she prays over the altar and thanks all these people for being in her life--including ancestors never met, family members and friends.
This year she started another layer. Under the cloth on which the photographs are displayed, she placed pictures of people who are still alive, but with whom she no longer has a close relationship. She thanks them for "lessons learned" together when they were closer and releases the bond that they once had. It's a letting go of whatever contributed to the ending of their connection without blaming or criticizing.
"Who knows?" she says, with a twinkle in her eyes, "What I may have done to hurt that person in a past life?"
Free spirited Cecelia draws from all kinds of spiritual traditions. She's always learning and trying out new techniques for forgiveness and letting go--and ultimate healing of herself and others.
Instead of worrying about relationships we can't force or change, there comes a time when we need to hold onto the precious memories and let go of the memories/differences that trouble or haunt us.
Cecelia told me about her Day of the Dead altar and I wanted to share it with you.
Every year, she makes an altar to people she loves who have died. At night, she prays over the altar and thanks all these people for being in her life--including ancestors never met, family members and friends.
This year she started another layer. Under the cloth on which the photographs are displayed, she placed pictures of people who are still alive, but with whom she no longer has a close relationship. She thanks them for "lessons learned" together when they were closer and releases the bond that they once had. It's a letting go of whatever contributed to the ending of their connection without blaming or criticizing.
"Who knows?" she says, with a twinkle in her eyes, "What I may have done to hurt that person in a past life?"
Free spirited Cecelia draws from all kinds of spiritual traditions. She's always learning and trying out new techniques for forgiveness and letting go--and ultimate healing of herself and others.
Instead of worrying about relationships we can't force or change, there comes a time when we need to hold onto the precious memories and let go of the memories/differences that trouble or haunt us.
Tuesday, November 27, 2018
Me and My House #2
I've gotten myself a partial education on woods this week and have narrowed my search down to two.
The demolition begins on Thursday or Friday, and I've been glad of these good-weather days to go from place to place asking questions.
The mold man comes on Saturday to check out what might be lurking, or not, under these floors and in the closets.
Then, the installation of new floors, wider planks, should be started next week!
I've chosen to go with Advanced Hardwood because they are the only ones who could promise such timely work and they have a huge selection of wood choices.
I'm impressed with both companies I've worked with so far, and will let you know how it goes.
The demolition begins on Thursday or Friday, and I've been glad of these good-weather days to go from place to place asking questions.
The mold man comes on Saturday to check out what might be lurking, or not, under these floors and in the closets.
Then, the installation of new floors, wider planks, should be started next week!
I've chosen to go with Advanced Hardwood because they are the only ones who could promise such timely work and they have a huge selection of wood choices.
I'm impressed with both companies I've worked with so far, and will let you know how it goes.
Monday, November 26, 2018
Me and My House
When I dream about Houses, I may be dreaming about my Self.
I'm no dream expert, but I've always been interested in Jungian theories about dreams and have taken a few classes over the years that tell me this is so.
In a recent dream, I was living in an old, weathered three-story house with a small extra room at the top. Since I am actually living in a 70 year-old body, three decades plus one, I think the symbolism is quite obvious.
In the dream, strangers were walking around in my house taking my treasures but not seeing me at all, even when I begged them to stop. One man took three light fixtures (not ones I actually own) and hauled them out to his truck.
I followed him. "Please give me my lights back," I yelled. But he put them in the bed of his truck and drove away.
(I followed him in my daddy's red truck, intent on getting my lights back, but, alas, I woke up before I caught the guy.)
The dreamed-house had once been a beautiful house with fresh paint, filled with the gifts and mementos that were precious to me. And yet, at the point of the dream story, it was being invaded by strangers.
Back in the real daytime world, I--and most of my friends--are in processes of simplifying our actual houses and getting rid of clutter, but we're also still painting and updating and acquiring new pieces for reasons of comfort and/or aesthetics. Our dream selves, like our daytime selves, are always in the process of change.
When I came home from my trip to find ruined floors from an air conditioning leak, it was, at first, almost as unsettling as discovering an injury in my body. To prepare for the removal of old floors and the laying of new ones, I have spent much of the past week moving everything I can personally lift to the only room that doesn't require new floors. I am dragging things over old floors that will soon be removed without taking the usual care to avoid scratches.
The process requires a lot of waiting--for estimates, choosing material, insurance calls. In this instance, after the floors are done, I'll also have to wait for a mold expert to determine if my house has mold and an allergist to tell me if there's a connection between mold and what I call "fibro days."
There are upsides:
When things are in chaos, when all the window coverings are down, when rooms are practically empty, you get to see the canvas fresh in different lights, unfiltered lights, revealing new possibilities.
I have six panels of wood today to watch in changing lights--from dark brown to whitewashed. With fibro flaring for three days, it's hard to decide. But tomorrow is another day, and as Scarlet O'Hara sort-of said, "I'll think about wood tomorrow."
I'm no dream expert, but I've always been interested in Jungian theories about dreams and have taken a few classes over the years that tell me this is so.
In a recent dream, I was living in an old, weathered three-story house with a small extra room at the top. Since I am actually living in a 70 year-old body, three decades plus one, I think the symbolism is quite obvious.
In the dream, strangers were walking around in my house taking my treasures but not seeing me at all, even when I begged them to stop. One man took three light fixtures (not ones I actually own) and hauled them out to his truck.
I followed him. "Please give me my lights back," I yelled. But he put them in the bed of his truck and drove away.
(I followed him in my daddy's red truck, intent on getting my lights back, but, alas, I woke up before I caught the guy.)
The dreamed-house had once been a beautiful house with fresh paint, filled with the gifts and mementos that were precious to me. And yet, at the point of the dream story, it was being invaded by strangers.
Back in the real daytime world, I--and most of my friends--are in processes of simplifying our actual houses and getting rid of clutter, but we're also still painting and updating and acquiring new pieces for reasons of comfort and/or aesthetics. Our dream selves, like our daytime selves, are always in the process of change.
When I came home from my trip to find ruined floors from an air conditioning leak, it was, at first, almost as unsettling as discovering an injury in my body. To prepare for the removal of old floors and the laying of new ones, I have spent much of the past week moving everything I can personally lift to the only room that doesn't require new floors. I am dragging things over old floors that will soon be removed without taking the usual care to avoid scratches.
The process requires a lot of waiting--for estimates, choosing material, insurance calls. In this instance, after the floors are done, I'll also have to wait for a mold expert to determine if my house has mold and an allergist to tell me if there's a connection between mold and what I call "fibro days."
There are upsides:
When things are in chaos, when all the window coverings are down, when rooms are practically empty, you get to see the canvas fresh in different lights, unfiltered lights, revealing new possibilities.
I have six panels of wood today to watch in changing lights--from dark brown to whitewashed. With fibro flaring for three days, it's hard to decide. But tomorrow is another day, and as Scarlet O'Hara sort-of said, "I'll think about wood tomorrow."
Sunday, November 25, 2018
My house is shrinking!
I have moved my mattress and all breakables and whatever I could lift into the living room. The floors--all but the large pieces of furniture--are bare. Tomorrow I'll remove curtains and pictures and see how much the living room will hold. Then I'll pack my bags as if taking a trip and prepare to depart when the insurance and bidders duke it out and decide who's doing what.
Until the work proceeds, I'll live in the guest room on the single bed, in the bathroom, and then--when it's no longer possible to have a bed in the house, I'll move over to Kate's who's generously invited me to use her guest room during the tearing up and installation of new floors.
Seeing all these rooms bare is like watching a movie backwards!
Until the work proceeds, I'll live in the guest room on the single bed, in the bathroom, and then--when it's no longer possible to have a bed in the house, I'll move over to Kate's who's generously invited me to use her guest room during the tearing up and installation of new floors.
Seeing all these rooms bare is like watching a movie backwards!
Saturday, November 24, 2018
Victoria Suescum and her Beautiful Birds
Victoria invited Elena and me over to her house this morning to observe and learn about birds, hands-on.
Elena was delighted when Victoria met us at the door with Raine on her hand, and remained a rapt student the entire time, as Victoria taught her how to choose a cockatiel (pay extra for one that is hand trained), how to choose a cage, and all kinds of things I'd have never thought to ask.
It was enchanting for me to watch Elena's eyes sparkling with delight each time one of the three birds landed on her head or hand. Victoria has had many birds and she knows her stuff--what to feed them, how to make their feet stronger (use pecan twigs instead of dowels for perches), and what potential bird dangers to avoid.
As she talked, I texted Santa Clause with everything I was learning and snapped pictures. At the end of our visit, Elena drew a quick sketch of Raine and when we got home, she set about right away to drawing the lovebirds.
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| Kent build folding screen doors to prevent splattery decoration and destruction in his study-- as the birds are free to fly all over the house. |
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| Raine |
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| Elena and Victoria |
Really good bluegrass!
Tonight I met Will, Veronica, and Elena for a bluegrass concert at The Pig Pen on Broadway--along with lots of their friends. Then Elena wanted to come spend the night, so we went to Target to buy her some red Christmas pajamas. Of course, we had to stop by Pet Co and look at birds and fish and reptiles.
Since Santa is bringing her a cockatiel, she wants a gift certificate from me for Pet Co--though she doesn't know that I already bought a wrapped a box full of bird toys.
She is so excited because we are going to Victoria's house tomorrow to see her birds!
We've been listening to Christmas music and making things out of Play Dough on the floor--such a celebratory night all around.
Since Santa is bringing her a cockatiel, she wants a gift certificate from me for Pet Co--though she doesn't know that I already bought a wrapped a box full of bird toys.
She is so excited because we are going to Victoria's house tomorrow to see her birds!
We've been listening to Christmas music and making things out of Play Dough on the floor--such a celebratory night all around.
Thursday, November 22, 2018
Elena's Cockatiel
....may not even have hatched yet, but she is spending Thanksgiving getting ready for it. She's watching videos about how to care for and train her bird, and she's drawing pictures of cockatiels.
I'm wrapping bird toys for Christmas to entertain Santa's gift of a little bird:
At the Sol Center next week
Cinderella: There is More to Her Story Than Getting the Prince with Marga Speicher
Dates: Two Wednesdays, Nov. 28 and Dec. 5
Time: 7-9 p.m.
Tuition: $35 before Nov. 21, $40 after
Enrollment: 12 min. / 25 max.
Folktales have captured the hearts and the imagination of generations across the globe. They tell of struggles in human existence, of ways in which we engage with forces that affect us, of means that can aid our journey through life. They are symbolic stories that depict aspects of the archetypal world. This workshop centers around the story of Cinderella as told in Germany, Russia, and China, and explores it as a story of inner development. It describes loss of a caring parent; encounters with the harshness of life; experiences of envy, rejection, cruelty; tasks to be undertaken. It shows connections to life-giving energies and leads to a new phase in life. Exploration of how such images of loss, grief, pain, harsh tasks, inner and outer helpers – manifest in contemporary life – can lead us to grow with the help of Cinderella and re-enter our world with deepened understanding. We will listen to the stories and explore, discuss, reflect on the images with the aim of strengthening our capacities for living through troubling experiences.
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Greek mythology for a first grader
Nana flew back to Georgia yesterday and I miss her--but we're already planning a spring trip.
We had such a good time, including doing a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, which I find very quieting and meditative, calling and being called upon by repair people, short visits with friends who dropped in, and fun visits with Will and Veronica and the kids.
On one of our outings, Nathan suggested we play riddles. For a while, Elena got lots of answers right and made up good ones of her own. She was happy. I've noticed that people of all ages are happy when we know the right answers.
Then Nathan moved into Greek myths. "I am the daughter of Zeus," etc.
We were in familiar enough territory that I got all but one of his Greek riddles--and that, frankly, is because the answer was wrong. Somewhere along the line, he'd come up with a Greek goddess named Alice!
Suddenly, Elena dropped out of the game and got into her mother's lap. She had that look on her face that told us all she was tuning up for a cry. She was frustrated that the questions had veered past what she knew.
"What's wrong, Elena?" I asked.
"I don't know any gods!" she said.
So today I ordered her a book of Greek mythology. I wouldn't want her to be left out if the next riddle game turns Greek.
We had such a good time, including doing a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, which I find very quieting and meditative, calling and being called upon by repair people, short visits with friends who dropped in, and fun visits with Will and Veronica and the kids.
On one of our outings, Nathan suggested we play riddles. For a while, Elena got lots of answers right and made up good ones of her own. She was happy. I've noticed that people of all ages are happy when we know the right answers.
Then Nathan moved into Greek myths. "I am the daughter of Zeus," etc.
We were in familiar enough territory that I got all but one of his Greek riddles--and that, frankly, is because the answer was wrong. Somewhere along the line, he'd come up with a Greek goddess named Alice!
Suddenly, Elena dropped out of the game and got into her mother's lap. She had that look on her face that told us all she was tuning up for a cry. She was frustrated that the questions had veered past what she knew.
"What's wrong, Elena?" I asked.
"I don't know any gods!" she said.
So today I ordered her a book of Greek mythology. I wouldn't want her to be left out if the next riddle game turns Greek.
Friday, November 16, 2018
Lea Glisson
Lea Glisson was a member of one of my long-standing writing groups for over a decade--except when she missed for a Spurs playoff. She published two memoirs--one of which I was lucky enough to work with her on as a writing coach--One Glad Morning.
We'd sit at her kitchen table and go over lines once a week and look at her family pictures. She was funny and wise and wonderful.
Last night I heard that she had died after a few weeks in ICU and I felt such sadness that all I could think of to do was to write a letter to the group that has since disbanded. We're sharing memories by email today of our oldest member who always walked into writing group smiling and then launched the meeting with a story. Everyone loved Lea!
During the years we met, we had members in every life decade--30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s. Then Lea turned 80 and we all soon jumped into our own next decades. It was a remarkable thing to have members of such diverse ages and professions and interests for so long!
Lea was also featured in our book, Wonderful Old Women, and whenever the interviewers and interviewees met to share the book, she'd walk into the group and proudly announce the page her story was on.
Mary Beth Edgerton's email this morning said, "Thank you, Linda, for bringing me into writing group so I could have the honor of knowing this amazing, faith-filled, gun-toting, self photo loving, praying grandma, boundless life force, Lea. You gave me a great gift. I'll always be grateful."
(Lea's bedroom walls feature collages of herself taken throughout her 80 plus years.)
One former member said--acknowledging that Lea was the pray-er in our group--"I think Lea's prayers got this Jewish gal through a lot of hard times."
"Heart-broken" is the word coming through in almost every note this morning--as we, though disbanded as an official writing group, are like a family of sisters who love each other and will miss Lea's presence in countless ways.
PS: Two fun postscripts about and for Lea
1. Whenever I took a trip, she'd say, "Post my pictures along the way with a sign that says For A GOOD TIME CALL...."
2. In response to hearing about Lea's death, Deb Field wrote: "She's in the land of eternal ice cream cones. We and the people at the drive-through windows will miss her." (Deb was one of the co-authors of WOW and shared Lea's birthday, May 13th.)
We'd sit at her kitchen table and go over lines once a week and look at her family pictures. She was funny and wise and wonderful.
Last night I heard that she had died after a few weeks in ICU and I felt such sadness that all I could think of to do was to write a letter to the group that has since disbanded. We're sharing memories by email today of our oldest member who always walked into writing group smiling and then launched the meeting with a story. Everyone loved Lea!
During the years we met, we had members in every life decade--30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s. Then Lea turned 80 and we all soon jumped into our own next decades. It was a remarkable thing to have members of such diverse ages and professions and interests for so long!
Lea was also featured in our book, Wonderful Old Women, and whenever the interviewers and interviewees met to share the book, she'd walk into the group and proudly announce the page her story was on.
Mary Beth Edgerton's email this morning said, "Thank you, Linda, for bringing me into writing group so I could have the honor of knowing this amazing, faith-filled, gun-toting, self photo loving, praying grandma, boundless life force, Lea. You gave me a great gift. I'll always be grateful."
(Lea's bedroom walls feature collages of herself taken throughout her 80 plus years.)
One former member said--acknowledging that Lea was the pray-er in our group--"I think Lea's prayers got this Jewish gal through a lot of hard times."
"Heart-broken" is the word coming through in almost every note this morning--as we, though disbanded as an official writing group, are like a family of sisters who love each other and will miss Lea's presence in countless ways.
PS: Two fun postscripts about and for Lea
1. Whenever I took a trip, she'd say, "Post my pictures along the way with a sign that says For A GOOD TIME CALL...."
2. In response to hearing about Lea's death, Deb Field wrote: "She's in the land of eternal ice cream cones. We and the people at the drive-through windows will miss her." (Deb was one of the co-authors of WOW and shared Lea's birthday, May 13th.)
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Squatting
A few years ago, I noticed that I could no longer squat all the way down to the ground and get back up without using my hands.
If you haven't hit that place yet, here's an article Nellie sent me to remind yourself to keep squatting.
https://qz.com/quartzy/1121077/to-solve-problems-caused-by-sitting-learn-to-squat/
If you watch a lot of Netflix or read in bed, as I do, maybe together we can figure out how to rebuild this important skill?
If you haven't hit that place yet, here's an article Nellie sent me to remind yourself to keep squatting.
https://qz.com/quartzy/1121077/to-solve-problems-caused-by-sitting-learn-to-squat/
If you watch a lot of Netflix or read in bed, as I do, maybe together we can figure out how to rebuild this important skill?
Saturday, November 10, 2018
Faces Places
This film on Netflix is a completely charming, artistic, graphically unforgettable French documentary that everyone should see!
Two friends--one a young man of 33 and one a woman of 88--set out across France to see villages and visages, places and faces, and to capture them on film. Then they paste enlarged versions of the photos on huge walls, over the bumps and tears of aged brick and wood.
The story of the friendship is so dear--as they travel together, yet share little of their personal lives. It's understated and simple and sweet beyond anything I've seen in a long time.
The woman does get to meet JR's 100-year-old happy grandmother. The woman photographer reveals a little about her former friendships, but we don't know if either is married or single, have children, or much of what they have done beyond their lives as photographers.
This is definitely one you'll watch more than once. We will.
Two friends--one a young man of 33 and one a woman of 88--set out across France to see villages and visages, places and faces, and to capture them on film. Then they paste enlarged versions of the photos on huge walls, over the bumps and tears of aged brick and wood.
The story of the friendship is so dear--as they travel together, yet share little of their personal lives. It's understated and simple and sweet beyond anything I've seen in a long time.
The woman does get to meet JR's 100-year-old happy grandmother. The woman photographer reveals a little about her former friendships, but we don't know if either is married or single, have children, or much of what they have done beyond their lives as photographers.
This is definitely one you'll watch more than once. We will.
Friday, November 9, 2018
Friday Night
Finally, I am feeling better--though the mold problem hasn't been fully resolved. I have a mold man coming on Monday and hope to see an allergist this week to find out (a) if there is mold, and (b) if I have a toxic reaction to it.
I'm hopeful that recounts will adjust some of the big election close calls in our favor--especially with Stacy in Georgia and Gillum in Florida. The race between Beto and the other guy was excruciatingly close as well, but I'm still wearing my Beto shirt and hoping that someone in Texas finds a drawer of lost ballots that turn it around. Carlene and I are on the same page--which makes watching the news, if not pleasurable, at least something we can complain about together.
It takes a little while to settle back in, and we've taken a few days to do not much of anything. This morning, Carlene and I sat in adjacent turquoise chairs at Sky Nails and got pedicures and manicures, two hours of pampering that is always good for the body and soul, especially at Sky Nails where they play good music and no TV.
Then we enjoyed the last of the soup Pam had left in the fridge, took a nap, and went out to dinner with Will and Bonnie and Elena.
I'm reading Almost Everything by Anne Lamott--who looks for what's good in a world choked up right now with awful.
Here's her take on Trump world--though she doesn't name names:
"Something that helps is to look at adversaries as people who are helping you do a kind of emotional weight training. Nautilus for your character. They may have been assigned to you, to annoy or exhaust you. They are actually caseworkers."
Maybe so.
But I'm ready for a whole new gym and a new cast of personal trainers.
I'm hopeful that recounts will adjust some of the big election close calls in our favor--especially with Stacy in Georgia and Gillum in Florida. The race between Beto and the other guy was excruciatingly close as well, but I'm still wearing my Beto shirt and hoping that someone in Texas finds a drawer of lost ballots that turn it around. Carlene and I are on the same page--which makes watching the news, if not pleasurable, at least something we can complain about together.
It takes a little while to settle back in, and we've taken a few days to do not much of anything. This morning, Carlene and I sat in adjacent turquoise chairs at Sky Nails and got pedicures and manicures, two hours of pampering that is always good for the body and soul, especially at Sky Nails where they play good music and no TV.
Then we enjoyed the last of the soup Pam had left in the fridge, took a nap, and went out to dinner with Will and Bonnie and Elena.
I'm reading Almost Everything by Anne Lamott--who looks for what's good in a world choked up right now with awful.
Here's her take on Trump world--though she doesn't name names:
"Something that helps is to look at adversaries as people who are helping you do a kind of emotional weight training. Nautilus for your character. They may have been assigned to you, to annoy or exhaust you. They are actually caseworkers."
Maybe so.
But I'm ready for a whole new gym and a new cast of personal trainers.
Thursday, November 8, 2018
Halloween Pictures
Halloween is Marcus' favorite holiday. When Betty asked him if he wasn't worried about scaring little kids, his reply was, "I think that's a Them Problem."
As it turns out, his costume this year--a chicken--isn't too scary. I think he's rather cuddly:
On the other hand, Elena's vampire costume and make-up looks rather scary. Even with two front teeth missing, she's a vampire! And Nathan is a spy with the FBI:
As it turns out, his costume this year--a chicken--isn't too scary. I think he's rather cuddly:
On the other hand, Elena's vampire costume and make-up looks rather scary. Even with two front teeth missing, she's a vampire! And Nathan is a spy with the FBI:
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
Wednesday Night
It amazes me how kids can sit down at a table, listen to adult conversation and contribute--while making art.
They grab a sheet of printer paper and a handful of markers and they're off!
They grab a sheet of printer paper and a handful of markers and they're off!
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| Nathan in his new glasses |
Kitchen table art-making tonight
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| Elena's Solar System |
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| By Nathan: "That moment you realize...That you have messed up." |
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| By Nathan "Wanna Taco about it?" "It's Nacho Business...." |
Round things
Ingrid Fetell Lee writes that round shapes are bringers of joy. The round shapes of glasses and bowls, for example:
Here's a quilt I snapped in a Claryton, Georgia gallery--made by Annie Cochran, all circles.
These round-ish coconut masks from Mexico in my living room always make me happy:
As do the wide-circle eyes of dolls and puppies and human babies:
Wheels and balls and tire swings. Birthday cakes and candle flames and bath bombs. Fruits and flowers. Round things are everywhere--we just have to look for them for bursts of joy!
Imagine my surprise a couple of weeks ago, when Betty and I were in a New Hampshire general store, and I walked to the bathroom in the back of the meat market. Between the meat cutters and packagers, I spied a matched pair of adorable humans with bald little heads and big round eyes, perched on the red-topped cutting table--instant joy!
Mold? Or what?
Carlene and I are slowly slowly settling back in, eating meals left in the fridge by Pam and Jan, taking turns reading the new Anne Lamott book Pam left for me (Almost Everything), and catching up on this and that a little at a time.
The month before I left for my trip I had what I call "fibro" and associate with CREST syndrome--though it's not necessarily connected. As soon as I left for my long road trip, there was only one day of pain--and that coincided with washing clothes in a basement.
Upon returning, I discovered that--having turned off the AC--the floors in my bedroom are buckled badly in three places. It made me suspect that perhaps mold is the cause of the aches and pains.
So thanks to suggestions from Carlene and Dana--who's renting the apartment--I ordered a dehumidifier and am looking online for people who treat houses for mold. My brother has mold toxicity, and I'm thinking that may be the problem with me as well.
Tomorrow, I'm having an AC man and a plumber, both coming to see if we can find the source of the problem. My own diagnosis is that the water got under the wood floors and the heat in the house caused the water to expand. It may be that the water was there for a long time and I would never have known it if the wood had not expanded to make my bedroom floors like fun house floors. You literally have to be careful not to trip on the floors!
Does anyone know of someone who does mold testing and treatment?
The month before I left for my trip I had what I call "fibro" and associate with CREST syndrome--though it's not necessarily connected. As soon as I left for my long road trip, there was only one day of pain--and that coincided with washing clothes in a basement.
Upon returning, I discovered that--having turned off the AC--the floors in my bedroom are buckled badly in three places. It made me suspect that perhaps mold is the cause of the aches and pains.
So thanks to suggestions from Carlene and Dana--who's renting the apartment--I ordered a dehumidifier and am looking online for people who treat houses for mold. My brother has mold toxicity, and I'm thinking that may be the problem with me as well.
Tomorrow, I'm having an AC man and a plumber, both coming to see if we can find the source of the problem. My own diagnosis is that the water got under the wood floors and the heat in the house caused the water to expand. It may be that the water was there for a long time and I would never have known it if the wood had not expanded to make my bedroom floors like fun house floors. You literally have to be careful not to trip on the floors!
Does anyone know of someone who does mold testing and treatment?
Tuesday, November 6, 2018
Wish lists
Veronica shared with me these two letters, one from Nathan to Santa, one from Nathan to his parents.
I love his closing paragraphs!
To his parents after the list of army and Jurassic requests:
"But a card or money, or a hug will be nice. Love y'all!!
and to Santa:
"Thank you for all the gifts you've given me throughout the years!"
I love his closing paragraphs!
To his parents after the list of army and Jurassic requests:
"But a card or money, or a hug will be nice. Love y'all!!
and to Santa:
"Thank you for all the gifts you've given me throughout the years!"
Sunday, November 4, 2018
Beach Days
We started our trip west by driving to Perry, Carlene's hometown, and meeting her sister Dot and Dot's husband, Dozier, at a restaurant next door to where their grandmother Cana used to live. Good country Southern cooking in a pretty little Georgia town.
Then we headed toward Alabama--spending our first night in Eufala, followed by lunch in a Harry Potter-themed cafe called Black Cat, then spent the next night in Evergreen--trying to keep our stops alliterative, all in E-named towns!
We enjoyed miles of cotton, corn, cows--to keep with the alliteration of natural resources in Alabama. I love looking at cotton fields and barns....
Yesterday, we drove along the Mississippi Gulf Coast through Pascagoula, Ocean Springs, Biloxi, Gulfport, Pass Christian, and Bay St. Louis. I had hoped to poke around in my favorite of these towns, Ocean Springs and have lunch there, but the town was literally impossible to reach by car--a huge crafts festival was going on downtown and we were unable to find parking.
We had the best cheesecake ever at the independent book store and cafe on the Pass Christian overlooking the water.
Then, last night we had dinner here in Lafayette at a Cajun Creole restaurant I remembered from last trip, The Blue Dog.
It's been a great trip but we're ready now to hunker down and take the main roads back to San Antonio--where the speedometer will register 7000 miles, a few more or less!
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| Carlene 93, Dot, 87 |
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| Perry Methodist Church--where Carlene, Dot, and their three brothers grew up. |
Then we headed toward Alabama--spending our first night in Eufala, followed by lunch in a Harry Potter-themed cafe called Black Cat, then spent the next night in Evergreen--trying to keep our stops alliterative, all in E-named towns!
We enjoyed miles of cotton, corn, cows--to keep with the alliteration of natural resources in Alabama. I love looking at cotton fields and barns....
Yesterday, we drove along the Mississippi Gulf Coast through Pascagoula, Ocean Springs, Biloxi, Gulfport, Pass Christian, and Bay St. Louis. I had hoped to poke around in my favorite of these towns, Ocean Springs and have lunch there, but the town was literally impossible to reach by car--a huge crafts festival was going on downtown and we were unable to find parking.
We had the best cheesecake ever at the independent book store and cafe on the Pass Christian overlooking the water.
 |
| Me and My Shadow, Biloxi |
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| The Pass Christian Book Store |
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| The Blue Dog, Lafayette, Louisiana |
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| One of George Rodrigue's many Blue Dog paintings in the restaurant. |
Then, last night we had dinner here in Lafayette at a Cajun Creole restaurant I remembered from last trip, The Blue Dog.
It's been a great trip but we're ready now to hunker down and take the main roads back to San Antonio--where the speedometer will register 7000 miles, a few more or less!
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