That Ol' Gray Mare, etc.

Since the weather turned cold and snowy I have grown lethargic. With the advent of the holiday season I gleefully threw myself into that most joyful of occupations: gaining weight. For surely one must never diet during the holidays? I'm sure it's written somewhere. After the first of the year I began to feel as though enough was enough- that would be about the time my fat clothes were the only things that fit me anymore- and that I should start exercising and dieting again. The problem with that, however, is that it was New Year's, and I make it a habit to never make life changes during New Year's. Therefore I had to wait until a decent interval had passed, whiling away the time eating whatever goodies tempted me. There were many, and they were good!

Now, however, the time has come to say good-bye to my sweet little friends and once more take up the yoke of diet and exercise. Each session is torture but I tell myself it will be worthwhile in the end. Since I began last week I've lost 5 pounds and feel better about myself.

Now if only I could get Randy to stop leaving jelly donuts lying around. He's a sadist, that one...

Old Thing, New Way

Looking at a vase with new eyes.

Illustration Friday-Glamour

Sometimes glamour comes with a high price...

Photo Friday-Vanity

Signs of my own vanity

Innovative

I had a brainstorm today. It happens. I came up with the idea of researching the nutritional needs of a female dog in particular- which vitamins etc. she needs more than a male does- and creating a dog treat designed specifically for the needs of the female of the species. My name for it?

Bitch Bones.

I have a feeling that were I to do such a thing, they would sell far better online than off.

What do you think? Any other product suggestions of your own? *G*

Could You Survive?

I think it takes a special kind of person to live with me, and I'll tell you why:

1. I yell at the tv. Actually these days I shoot the tv thanks to my nerf-like foam air gun courtesy of my friend Leo at Christmas. I also shoot (at totally random moments) my husband, my dog, my cats and anything inanimate that gets in the way when I aim badly.

2. I talk to the ceiling as though there are FBI or CIA agents lurking in the attic. They aren't really, but one of their bugs might be... *G*

3. I really will jump up on furniture and yell my own version of "Eek! A mouse!" I suspect the mice would stop and yell "Eek! A human!" were it not for the fact that they are usually being chased by a cat. A cat I am yelling at because I don't want it to hurt the mouse. Naturally the cat ignores me, and around and around we go.

4. I will burst into song any time, anywhere. And though I'm usually on key, there's no guarantee.

5. I laugh when my dog pushes my husband off of the couch in order to stretch out and rest his (the dog's) head in my lap. In other words I am no help whatsoever. I also find it amusing when one of the cats literally walks over Randy simply to get somewhere else on the couch. Usually my lap. My lap seems a popular place to be.

Behave.

6. I seem to have selective Tourette's. By this I mean that when I'm out in public I'm relatively normal. Once I'm relaxing in my own home, however, you never know what I'm going to say or do. I'll howl like a wolf for no reason and completely out of the blue. Or I'll meow. Or just make random noises which don't really sound like anything. I'll suddenly yell "NO!" without cause, which worries the poor dog until Randy explains to Sam that he didn't do anything wrong, Mommy's just insane. "No what?" Randy says to me. "Just 'No.'" I respond, stubbornly. I truly think my ideal job would be located one cubicle over from David Spade in those Mastercard commercials.

Yes, I'm difficult. But Randy and the others seem to have adjusted to it. They're still here. They're as jittery as if they'd drunk a trough of straight black coffee, but they're here.

Sister Stranger

I received an email tonight from one of my sisters. It wasn't for me alone; it was part of a mass emailing to most of our family. Still, this is a far more startling event than one might expect. I don't really know her at all, nor have I had the opportunity. We share a father, and that's it.

My father, Dale, never married my mother or our half-brother James' mother. When he married my half-sisters' mother, Erica, he failed to mention James and I to her. She was pregnant with the second of their 4 daughters (the one who wrote) when she learned of my existence, and from all stories was really not at all pleased. She would have divorced my father over it were it not for their daughters. Oddly, she never seemed to mind James' (my younger half-brother) existence. Dale was given permission to write to me (I was in Texas, they were living in Somalia) but that was as far as contact was supposed to go. Years later when we found ourselves living in the same town and I finally met my father, I wasn't allowed to visit the house or even call there. The girls weren't allowed to know me, because of their mother. Erica raised them to believe I am a drunk slut and as they grew older, they had no interest in meeting me. That continues to this day, so for me those 4 sisters barely exist. That's why I never blog about them. They range in age from something like 20 years to 15 years of age.

Anyway, out of the blue this sister included me in this email, and I admit to being touched by it. I didn't even know she had my address; she must have received it from an aunt. She's in a collegiate foreign exchange program and has just arrived in Beijing for a semester. She signed a contract stating that she'll only speak chinese, but she can write in whatever language she likes, thus the email. It was a happy, chatty missive full of things she's done so far and the things she hopes to accomplish. There were also personal insights and observations, and I was taken aback by how much I disagreed with her on some things. After a moment's reflection I could see how these viewpoints are a reflection of Erica and also of my father's family. It struck me that though we share a gene pool, our lives and outlooks are so very different in some ways. Yet I can identify with her in others. She remains such a stranger, but perhaps a little less so.

I think I might like to get to know my sisters some day, if they're ever interested in getting to know me in return. Perhaps this one is...

Photo Friday-Pink

And this, in part, would be why I haven't bothered with Photo Friday lately. I'm tired of colors and numbers and such for topics. So here is my submission. A pink snake meets a red armadillo in a sea of cacti. It's a tin diorama of sorts given to Randy and I. Sharp sucker, too.

Ready Or Not, Here I Come!

Now you know my name is Simon, and the things I draw come true...

Yet another earworm from my childhood, this time the theme song from a cartoon about a boy whose drawings come to life. There's a re-make of sorts on Nickelodeon Channel now I think, but with a different name.

These earworms from my long lost past have me reminiscing about my earlier days. During the first 8 years of my life I was supremely confident. I could scrap with a kid in the dirt one day and be friends with them the next, all forgotten. There was nothing I was afraid of, nothing I wouldn't try, climb, touch. I wasn't squeamish. I was tough. If there was nobody around to play with, I would go off on my own to explore and have adventures. The apartment houses around me ceased to exist, transformed into magical realms: villages surrounded by a Mighty Forest (a thin strip of trees in reality) or canyon walls. There were elves in the trees, faeries in the flowers, brownies under the mushrooms, spirits in the trees and invisible people everywhere. I miss that world, except for the invisible people. Half the time I still feel like they're there and I don't know if that's a comfort or just creepy. *G*

If I wasn't outside playing I was inside reading. I watched a little television, but not much. Mostly I lost myself in the worlds of Lewis, Tolkien, Mowat, Marguerite Henry, etc. In those days I was actually- gasp!- a morning person, awake about an hour before my mother. I'd turn the tv on to watch cartoons while rowing a boat (made from my mother's guitar case) quietly around the ocean that my mother referred to as The Livingroom. Sometimes I took her violin out of the case, caressing the sleek wooden body, marvelling at the softness of the bow strings. The thing that could hold my attention for whole minutes at a time was the block of rosin, like an amber jewel! It fascinated me. When the violin was stolen in a break-in a few years later, I'm not sure who missed it more, my mother or I. She missed the violin, I that chunk of rosin. Other favorites pasttimes were taking out chess pieces and pretending that they were real with lives of their own, or riding the back of the recliner while making-believe it was a horse. In an odd sort of way this worked; just as a real horse might buck, the recliner sometimes "threw" me when it slid into the "recline" position...

For a long time we lived in a second-story apartment in a converted house. We got along well with the family below. It was located out in the country and it was here I was given my first pet: Snowball. He was a positively enormous rabbit whom I adored. He was frightened to death by a pack of dogs after about a year and I was heartbroken. Poor old Snowball! Two years later I read Animal Farm, at which point I decided that "Snowball" was a very unlucky name; I never used it again.

The nicest part of living there was the small dairy farm next to us. The old farmer lived alone and really liked me, so I was allowed to climb the barbed wire fence and wander over the hill. Sometimes my mother joined me for picnics, quizzical cows watching from a safe distance. I remember those afternoons as being literally golden, the sun warm but gentle overhead and our blanket surrounded by wildflowers. Alone or with my mother I would go visit the old gentleman for an hour or so to keep him company. He would tell me stories of his life on the farm with his late wife. He was very sweet. The young bull he sometimes had in the field could have taken some lessons from him. I learned quickly not to go into the field when the bull was there! I carried a scar from the barbed wire fence for a few years after having to make a rapid exit once! *G*

I miss those days when things seemed simple. I can't really say they were carefree though. Kids worry, and just because their concerns may not have the dire consequences of adult problems, the concerns are real enough for them. Still, wouldn't it be nice if the situations we face now were the sorts of things that were as easy to heal as a kiss from Mom on a skinned knee?

If you're looking for me, I'll be hanging upside-down in that tree over there...

New Discussion Forum

A fellow blogger has begun discussion forums where those who are interested can share thoughts and ideas on everything from politics and religion to how long Tom and Katie's marriage will last. There seems to be a wider range of views from liberal to conservative than I tend to come across in such forums, and I like this. It's always nice to share with people of like mind, but it's also enlightening and interesting to discuss topics with people who might think a little differently than I do on various issues. Whether or not I agree with what they have to say, I at least gain a different perspective and new points to ponder. Surely a good thing?

If you're interested, check out the discussions underways at Vain Deceits.

Illustration Friday-Cats

The Masked Marauding Mouse says "Meow?"

I had to take a break from Illustration Friday (and Photo Friday for that matter) for a couple of weeks, but I believe I'm back now. This was mixed media- colored pencil with some digital touch-ups.

Plans For House and Humiliating Sam

Today (Saturday) is Sarah's birthday, and I'm exhausted already. That being said, I think I'll move on to happier topics.

Yesterday was Randy's last day of vacation so we headed over to Home Depot. We had planned on buying ceiling boards to cover the newly insulated ceiling of the cabin. We couldn't find anything I liked though and I felt pretty discouraged. I've had to rethink my plan there. Now I believe I'll sheetrock it and then create faux rafter beams with stained 2x4's. We'll see. Also failed to decide on flooring for the bathroom and the kitchen. I've realized this is something I really need my mother's help with. I wanted Randy's input, but he just keeps telling me "Whatever you want" when I ask him which pattern he prefers. That's absolutely no help. So now he'll be stuck with whatever I choose. My problem is that our resources are limited, and we'll have to live with my choices for a very long time. Therefore I had better choose wisely. Nothing like a little pressure, eh?

On the plus side, I chose a new light fixture for the kitchen and a fancy new door latch for the cabin door. Randy and I also chose the new hardwood flooring we want to put down in the cabin. The old boards have warped and need replacing. I couldn't find the countertop that I have in mind, but have a brochure so that I can locate what I need. We've even figured out how to work his father's antique portable pool table into the design plan in the cabin. Though it's a standard size pool table, the legs fold up for storage. We're going to have it restored and keep it folded in a nook in the cabin when not in use. I've always enjoyed pool. It's one of the few interests I had in common with my father. It will be nice to have my own table.

I'll wrap this up by mentioning that Sam is one very relieved pooch tonight. I almost accepted a dare to dress him in a speedo (I promise I would have photographed and shared) but I was only being offered a dollar. That wouldn't have bought the speedo, so I gave it a pass. I thought red would be a lovely color on him, but somehow I doubt he would have agreed...

Much Better Day

Yesterday wound up being dicey all around. It was another day when a tranquilizer gun might have come in handy. There wasn't much "rainbow" about it, other than the colorful expletives which often flew from my lips. But enough about that.

Today was a new and better day. I dropped my brother off at a ski resort to snowboard and then headed into one of our larger towns to do some shopping. I went to the shopping plaza where the local bookstore is located. First I popped into a department store. While there I bumped into 2 old colleagues of mine from the school for the developmentally disabled where I worked until I was injured. One of them was an acquaintance, but the other I had worked with very closely and had developed more of a friendship with. It was excellent to see him and his youngest daughter. I knew her daddy before she was born and even bought her some of her baby clothes, so it was neat to see her a couple of years later. Victor and I exchanged phone numbers so we can get together for a cup of coffee sometime and catch up. He told me how much everyone missed me when I left; it was nice to hear. I don't miss the place itself but have so very often missed the kids and the people. Visitation isn't allowed for confidentiality purposes, so I wasn't able to go back and see anyone after I was gone. That was hard. I'm looking forward to hearing the news!

After I said good-bye I headed over to the bookstore. I bought 3 books with part of one gift certificate. They are:

1. The Hero's Walk by Anita Rau Badami. The story of a traditional Indian man, unhappy and worn down by the people around him until he learns that his wayward daughter and her Canadian husband have died tragically, leaving behind their traumatized daughter for him to raise. The little girl hasn't spoken since the death of her parents, and he wants to reach out to her but doesn't know how. Perhaps together they will learn to open up again.

2. The Mysteries by Lisa Tuttle. A private detective lands an important case, one that reminds him of the first case he solved but which still had some loose ends. This new case leads him to the highlands of Scotland, where he discovers odd coincidences between his own cases and an obscure Celtic myth.

3. Emotionally Weird by Kate Atkinson. Tells the strange tale of a woman, her mother and the lives they fabricate for one another when they meet. I have to say that it was the title which attracted me to this book especially.

I was reading the backs of these books to Randy while he prepared dinner, and I realized something funny. Book 1 and 3 are both set mostly in ancestral estates. Books 2 and 3 both take place in the highlands of Scotland at least part of the time. Interesting how my shopping seems to have reflected a mood I was in.

New earworm! Does anyone else remember Picture Pages with Bill Cosby? I had forgotten all about it when out of the blue the entire first verse popped into my head tonight! I think it's because I held a catalogue up to Randy and said "I need to see the picture to visualize how it will look. I'm a picture sort of person!" being silly. In case you're wondering we were discussing windows, which we will be buying soon. That's beside the point though. It was the reference to pictures which caused the earworm. Now I have the bouncy tune playing in my head; it's quite catchy if you know it. I hope it doesn't last months, but it's kind of fun for now.

Picture Pages, Picture Pages,
Time to get your Picture Pages,
Time to get your crayons and your pencils...

Good ol' Captain Kangaroo and Bill Cosby. :0)

Day Needed Do-Over?

I was almost unable to blog tonight, having lost my cable connection early this evening. We've had some really bad weather and incredibly powerful winds. All of this must have contributed to the downing of the cable lines in some way. Power has been restored however. So here I am ready to blog and knowing just what I want to say for a change, and I discover that in a moment of serendipity, at least part of this entry relates to SwissToni's post. Fun!

I had a strange dream this morning in which the CIA put me into a witness protection program. I was in so much danger that I was going to have massive cosmetic surgery on face and body so that I no longer appeared to be me at all. I would be starting a new life in a new body, and I was ok with that. I think I've been absorbing a little too much Alias lately.

Then there's poor Randy. Normally he's up and out the door long before I wake up. Even in the deepest of sleep I sense when the bed is all mine and I roll over and spread out in the middle. However this week he's on vacation from work and today my sensor was off. Perhaps that's due to the intense surgery I was about to undergo? Anyway, I kept trying to roll over and spread out, only of course Randy was still there. The unfortunate upshot of this was that he was kicked. Repeatedly. The fact that it was unintentional didn't really help. In the end I think he got up and stumbled out to the couch to watch tv and doze in relative peace. At least if the cat pounced on him she packs less of a wallop than I do!

When at last I was ready to wake up and face the day (not really- the alarm was going off obscenely early because I had an appointment) I became aware of the television in our bedroom. Randy falls asleep with the remote. If I can find it when I go to bed at night all is well. Otherwise I set the tv for a benign channel before falling asleep only to have Randy roll over on the remote and change the channel to who know's what. Such was the case last night. I fell asleep to The Cosby Show and woke to a sermon from what appeared at first blurry glance to be a priest. He certainly had the fancy vestments, etc. NOT my favorite thing to wake up to, but not the worst thing I suppose. But then he ended his program in the oddest way, cheerfully telling his viewers to "...have a rainbow day!" This is a highly suspect thing for a Catholic priest to say, so I guess he must have been Episcopalian after all. Still, it threw me.

Such a surreal start to my day!

Reading Again

As amazing as it is to me personally, I have already finished the 600+ pages of Eldest, the sequel to Christoper Paolini's first novel Eragon and the second in the Inheritance trilogy. The link leads to the official website where you can learn more about the books, the author and the world he created. It's Young Adult Fantasy Fiction. It's a bit derivative, and yet I find myself enjoying it nonetheless. Eldest being the second book, naturally it leaves off on the cusp of powerful and fate-determining plot lines. Now I must wait for the final book to be published; I suspect patience is in order.

I must admit that I like reading Young Adult fiction. I'm still often young at heart and while the conflicts in the story are difficult for the protagonist(s), it is far less challenging or taxing on me. I can simply read and take pleasure from the story providing it's any good. This is my form of "fluff reading" and I not only enjoy it, but need it. I read adult literature as well of course. But for escapism, it's almost always Young Adult. Eldest was probably the perfect vehicle to get me reading again for that reason.

I do seem to be coming out of my reading funk, at least a little. This is perfect because between Randy and my mother I received $155 in gift certificates to book stores. I can think of a few things I'd like to spend them on, and will relish looking for others.

Speaking of reading, I need to read your blogs. Goodnight!

Consulting the Oracle

I'm feeling restless and edgy tonight, so I decided to do a quick Druid Animal Oracle reading to give me something to focus on. I rarely do this but tonight it felt right. I kept the question general, simply asking for any insights that might be helpful. I drew the Hawk (Seabhac), which is the card depicted on the cover of the box as seen in the link above. This suggests that I should take some time to meditate every day, to slow down and figure out what it is that is really important to me. It also recommended that I set aside some time to learn more about my heritage and consider my life so far in order to get a stronger sense of self. In this way I'll be able to move forward more calmly and clearly. This dovetails nicely with some thoughts I've had on the subject, especially the need to set some meditation time aside for myself every day.

All in all, not a bad reading.

Possessed By A Song

It has gone beyond the realm of Earworm now. I'm referring to the song When The River Meets The Sea from Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas. It began a few months ago, running through my head automatically every time I had to use the bathroom. When the river meets the sea, get it? And I feel horrible for making that connection because it's a really beautiful song, but there you have it.

Only now it's assailing me all the time, no matter what I'm doing and I can't get rid of it. Perhaps it's punishing me for my juvenile reference above? I couldn't remember all of the words until I looked it up online tonight. I've sung it through once. Perhaps I'll keep singing it until it goes away. At least then if it continues to linger I won't be stuck with just a couple of phrases repeating endlessly; it'll be the whole blasted beautiful song.

On the chance you know the song and I've cursed you with The Earworm That Won't Die, the lyrics are:

When The River Meets The Sea

When the mountain touches the valley
All the clouds are taught to fly
Thus our souls shall leave this land most peacefully
Though our minds be filled with questions
In our hearts we'll understand
When the river meets the sea

Like a flower that has blossomed
In the dry and barren sand
We are born and born again most gracefully
Thus the winds of time shall take us
With a sure and steady hand
When the river meets the sea

Patience, my brothers
And patience, my sons
In that sweet and final hour
Truth and justice will be done

Like a baby when it is sleeping
In its loving mother's arms
What a newborn baby dreams is a mystery
But his life will find a purpose
And in time he'll understand
When the river meets the sea
When the river meets the almighty sea

My heartfelt gratitude to Distant Melody for providing the lyrics.

Grammie's? Day

Yesterday was my Grammie's 94^th birthday. We celebrated today though because her daughter lives over 4 hours away and had to work yesterday. Grammie is in advanced stages of Alzheimer's and honestly doesn't know the difference anyway. She's at a point now where she doesn't even recognize her son and daughter very often anymore. She just knows that she knows them, and the rest of us. She's been having some heart problems lately and this may be her last birthday. So it was important to me that she have a good day and be the center of attention. There was just one problem with that. Care to guess?

Sarah.

From the moment Sarah arrived, she dominated people's attention with her struggles. Her birthday is coming up on the 21^rst, which she reminded us of several times, and she made a point to ask for the things she wants. She honestly expects that we might get her:

1. an ipod
2. a digital camera
3. a laptop

I'm giving her a subscription to Grapevine, an AA periodical which she mentioned to me she'd like.

Sarah was going on and on about how tough life is for her (the shelter she stays at gives her everything she needs and more, including her own room, clothes, medical coverage and a free cell phone). I couldn't stand it. So I cornered her and let her regal me with her tales of woe so that everyone else could get back to Grammie and her celebration.

Here's what I learned:

The good news is that Sarah has a new sponsor. The Psycho who was spreading lies is gone. The bad news is that Sarah goes back and forth on whether or not she's an alcoholic. I think she's telling people what they want to hear and occasionally slips up. She also informed me that she doesn't believe alcoholism is a disease. Those of us who can't handle our booze are just weak. But hey, she's ready to start her fourth step! If you haven't taken step one- admitted that you're powerless over alcohol and that your life is unmanageable- you're nowhere near ready to make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourself. If you can't get honest about whether or not you have a problem drinking, chances are you're not going to take an honest look at your behavior. She went on to try to get me to take her to meetings again, wanting to hang out etc. That Way Lies Madness. I don't mind once in a great while going to one of her meetings with her in her town, but I'm not going to make a habit of it or encourage her to join me at mine. I honestly shudder at the thought.

She's better and she's not, and I'm not. Distance is still needed. I went to a meeting right after the party, which helped. I could have offered to take Sarah to the meeting with me, and then give her a ride home. I didn't, and cut her short before she could suggest it. Every time I leave her, I feel like William Wallace and his cry of "Freedom!" So I don't think it's wise if I spend much time with her.

At least Grammie had a nice birthday party. The last time I saw her she was smiling happily at everyone, touched that all of these people cared enough to come see her and throw her a little party. :0)

Fill In The Blank

Happiness is ____.

New Behavior

Randy pulled out his wallet and sat on the couch next to me. Wheezy was making the rounds between the ribbon on the balloon (came with the flowers Randy bought for me), the gift boxes and wrapping paper. But the moment Randy took cash out and started counting it^*, Wheezy raced over and sat at his feet. She wasn't looking at Randy; she was looking at the money with an unnerving intensity. There was definite intelligent and devious purpose as evidenced by the glint in her eyes. Is there a web site devoted to gourmet cat treats made from real mouse and bird? Because I think that's where she's planning on spending the money.

This is a disturbing new development. My only comfort is knowing that she wouldn't share her spoils with Patches, the male cat, so he wouldn't let her on the computer to place her order. He still likes to write, you know...

^*Randy was setting aside money for bills, not paying me to stay with him and say nice things on this blog. That debt of his doesn't come due until August.

;0)

Happy Birthday!

Today is my birthday, and in true hobbit fashion I'm giving you a gift to help celebrate this day.

I have created a sort of treasure hunt for you. When you click on "Begin" below a new window will open up and you'll see an image. Embedded in this image are 4 links. Three of these will lead to blogs not listed here on my site and which may or may not be of interest. The fourth link will take you to the next image, embedded with 4 more links, etc. There are 2 false leads, and every image has 4 links hidden somewhere in it.

1. Links can be found by passing the cursor over the image.
2. You will need to use your Back button to return from a blog link to the image page.
3. If you click on a false lead, click on the image you find there and it will return you to the treasure hunt where you left off.

If you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer if I can. Enjoy!

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors?

My neighbor said something rather terrifying to me today: she wants to cultivate the sort of relationship where we just pop over to each other's homes and relax on each other's porches, chatting.

What an alarming concept!

I'm very shy and have difficulty making conversation with people I don't know very well in real life. Furthermore, my home is my sanctuary. I feel safe here and can hide when people or life circumstances begin to feel overwhelming to me. Very few people, including family, will stop by without calling ahead of time to make sure it's okay. I don't mind going out to see people or do things, but it is far more rare for me to invite the outside world in. I like it this way, and the thought of this woman invading my space- even though it is based purely on a desire to be friends- unnerves me. I can't even pretend to be out, as she lives across the road and can see for herself that I'm in. This is going to require delicate handling I think. I want to be friendly, I just don't want to be invaded. This also requires careful handling because my husband and his family are friends with her husband, who also does work for us from time to time. I'm sure it will all work out, but I needed to express my concern somewhere. Now I have.

Random Rant-Paparazzi

I would like to create a magazine or newspaper devoted solely to stalking the paparazzi. If, as they claim, a celebrity has no right to privacy because of their fame, I posit that the paparazzi themselves as a group have become celebrities. Their antics are notorious.

Therefore I would like to put out a weekly circular of some sort detailing the lives of the paparazzi, public and private. I'd have my own stalkers sleazebags photojournalists follow them around, dig through their garbage and take sordid pictures for the amusement of all who care to read.

Legitimate reporters and photographers involved in publicity and promotion would be exempt. If you treat others with respect, you earn the same for yourself.

As for the paparazzi, my only response to their complaints would be: It's the price you pay for fame...

A Little Entertainment

I saw Brokeback Moutain with my family tonight. It really was a beautiful film. The cinematography alone was spectacular. The story was moving and sad and frustrating and well worth watching.

Now, from the people who brought us Fuck the South comes Fuck the New York Times. This is about the wire-tapping Bush ordered on people's phones and is really funny. Unless you're a Republican or more conservative in your leanings, in which case this probably won't amuse you so much. My thanks to David for this link!

Big Sister Can Dance

This was the startling lesson my kid brother Drew learned at tonight's concert. He's seen me dance before so the fact that my dancing abililty startled him tells you just how much attention he's paid in the past. That's ok, I'm just a sister. *G*

The concert was at a place called The Webster. It has two auditoriums: The Underground and TheTheater. You can walk back and forth between the two, catching various acts. The Underground is about the size of an average American bar. Naturally the walls and ceiling around the stage are painted black, the walls around the audience are mirrored, the floor is black and white tile (chipped) and most importantly, the room is dimly lit at best. The floor here is spring loaded for a more buoyant bounce when you dance. The first band up was called Slap and was comprised of high school boys around the age of 16. Drew and his friends (I think he knew close to 30 people there!) all thought Slap sucked and made nasty comments to each other. They all thought the lead singer was on crack, but I could tell that wasn't the case. More like acid. In reality, I think he was just posing and posturing the way he sees major rock groups do. They were discordant and often missed beats, etc. That being said, I will say that they are very young yet and with time might be decent enough. They each had potential; they just needed to pull it together.

From there we wandered down the hall to The Theater. This is a much larger room, 3-tiered. Floor level gets you right by the stage, no seats. The second has some stools and small tables. The third is the bar area. You know you're too old for this crap when you notice that the paint on the ceiling is bubbling and peeling and, attributing it to water damage, you idly wonder if the roof is going to collapse. But perhaps it's just meant to add atmosphere. It was in this room that The Wailers would be playing at the end of the night. Now though, there was a college band called Instrumental Break which was really decent. Mostly I found myself hanging around on the fringes while my brother talked with his friends. Almost none of them know me and were leery of me because they're teens and I'm An Adult. I can't tell you how often tonight I felt old, so I won't. But I did. I kept flashing back to my own college/post-college party days. It was surreal. I don't like people and I hate crowds, but I did manage to get comfortable in my own skin eventually. We went back to The Underground because my brother's friends were about to perform. We caught the last couple of songs by another high school group called Laurel Street. These guys were really good. Their last song of the night was an original that they had just come up with last night. Excellent! Then the group Drew had come to see took the stage. LeSpecial is made up of guitar, bass, drums and sax. There's almost no vocals. Normally for me this is a big turn-off. I connect to music more deeply through lyrics. I have to admit I wasn't expecting much, but they blew me away! They're funk, jazz and rock all rolled into one. It's a distinctive sound, original. They have enormous potential if they remain grounded and stick to it. I hope they do. I have to get a copy of their cd from my brother.

We went back to The Theater and caught the tail end of another college band. This group probably wasn't that bad except that I don't think warming up for The Wailers was the right venue for them. The music was wrong. When they left the stage, I was excited thinking that finally The Wailers were coming on. It was getting late. Instead, yet another band came on. This was a much better fit for the crowd though, with a strong reggae sound threaded with rock. Very cool. It was at this point that Andrew learned that I can dance.

Finally The Wailers took the stage. We were down on the floor which was steadily becoming packed. More and more people were drifting by reeking of pot. That by itself didn't bother me. I was never into drugs so the smell of it didn't make me jones for a hit or anything. Then people started lighting up not far away. I held my breath when I saw that cloud come my way, but again that rarely happened. I gave up though when the guy who was squashed up against me on my right lit up. I immediately waved the white flag of surrender and left my brother to fend for himself while I went up to the second tier, near the exit where there was plenty of fresh air. The last thing I need or want is to get high, even accidentally. I still had a great view of the band and I had more room to dance, so it worked out well. Towards the end Andrew came and found me.

All in all it was a good night despite the irritations. The best part of all though was hanging out with my brother. Pretty cool.

I didn't get home until after 2 a.m. by the time I dropped him off. Now it's 3:40 and I still have to read what you good people wrote, so I think I'll sign off now and do so.

Great night!

A Band And A Breakthrough

I'm taking my brother and one of his friends to see The Wailers in Hartford tomorrow. A friend of my brother's is in one of the opening bands I guess. I've never been to a concert with my brother before- not counting kiddie concerts when he was 5- so this should be fun.

On another note, I've been thinking about the odd problems I've been having. Iva Mae reminded me that perhaps I should have a look at the long term effects of any meds I might be on. Realizing that this was sound advice, I decided to do a little research. I've been flying largely blind when it comes to my meds. The psychiatrist who diagnosed me was flaky and didn't provide any real information about bipolar disorder or the options I had in terms of medications. Nor did she explain to me the hazards of changing my diet or other less common side effects. In short, she really didn't tell me much of anything. Perhaps this becomes less shocking when you discover that she herself was mentally unstable; she strangled a cat and tried to bite its owner! Thankfully my association with her had ended at that point. I tried another psychiatrist but he was busy and far too expensive. So for the past couple of years my family doctor has monitored my blood levels and prescribed my lithium carbonate. That's fine as far as it goes, but he's really Old School and hasn't much faith in psychiatry. Therefore he hasn't been helpful beyond these basics. I thought that I was well-informed, but after following Iva's suggestion, I've realized that I'm woefully ignorant. It's time to find another psychiatrist, preferably a sane one who understands the pharmacology.

Because you see, almost every symptom I've been suffering from can be explained by low to moderate toxicity from the lithium. It explains so much! It even explains things that I didn't mention here earlier, problems that I had attributed to other causes may well have been symptoms of a lowered tolerance to my medication. The Reader's Block that I discussed in yesterday's post could also be attributed to this, for example. It all makes sense! So obviously I need to meet with someone who understands this disease and its treatments and come up with a better way to handle it, educating me in the process. In the meantime I have to continue with the lithium; it may be as simple as needing a lower dosage.

It will be so nice if the dizzy spells, exhaustion, forgetfulness, lack of concentration, etc. could be reduced or eliminated entirely. We'll see.

Trouble Reading

A couple of days ago the wise numnum suggested that I do a list of the best books I read in 2005. Since then I've been mulling this over. This wasn't as easy a question as it might seem, but more on that later. In the end these were the books I chose and would recommend to others if they sound appealing:

Mosaic by Soheir Khashoggi

The Queen of Dreams, by Chitra Divakaruni

The Cloud Sketcher, by Richard Rayner

Peace Like A River, by Leif Enger

The truth of the matter is that I have developed a little problem. Some might call it Reader's Block, and I suppose it is though I believe there are contributing factors. Up until a year or two ago, I read voraciously. I averaged about 7 books a week which, if not up to LazyGal's standards, still is nothing to sneeze at. However when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder I began necessary medication. The less depressed I felt, the less time I spent reading. I still read, but the number of books dropped to something like 2 or 3 books a week instead of 7. This I could live with. But as more time passed I realized that I rarely read at all anymore. I find it difficult to focus for extended periods of time, whereas in the past I was extremely focused. It must have come on gradually until I just woke up to the fact one day. I know in part it's because I've tried to read books that I wouldn't normally read based on people's insistence that I simply must read them. The moment I felt I had to read something, I resented it and dragged my heels. That would be a character defect of mine rearing its head. However innocuous I appear on the surface, I have a strong rebellious streak. I also forced myself to read some things I normally wouldn't simply to expand my own horizons, only to find that I am as apt to rebel against myself as against anyone else.

I turned reading into a chore, and that's not good.

There is happy news however. In the last month or so I find myself picking up a book more often, and finding real pleasure in it once more. Perhaps the Reader's Block is finally coming to an end. Only today I actually bought 2 books: Inkspell by Cornelia Funke, and The Swallows of Kabul, by Yasmina Khadra. As soon as I finish Eldest, by Christopher Paolini, I'll move on to one of these. It could take awhile though, as Eldest is almost 700 pages!

It Began With A Phone Call

My day, that is. That isn't really so odd; lots of people receive a phone call early in the morning. If they are wise- like myself- they ignore it and let the answering machine pick up.

So why am I even mentioning it?

Well you see, it was an old boss of mine on the phone. I worked as a Writer's Assistant for a couple of years almost 10 years ago. The writer's name is Bill, and it was he who called me today. I received credit as a contributing author in his book. I wrote the first chapter, and acted as editor and advisor throughout. It's only available in German and Japanese, however, so unless you speak those languages I doubt you've read it or even heard of it. Bill is wild, flamboyant, creative, childish, unreliable, prone to tantrums and an addict. My real problem with Bill, though, was that he didn't pay me all that he owed me. In the end I negotiated with him. I accepted his Bowflex fitness equipment which I was storing for him, then traded it to a friend for the Pentax I use to this day. But the negotiations were ugly, and I've vowed not to work for him again. He tried a couple of years ago to involve me in a scheme of his. He's back again now with some new idea he thinks I'll be interested in. To be honest, I've been bored lately and thought for a split second it might be fun to take up a new creative project. Sanity rapidly returned though, and so I've already decided to turn him down, without even knowing what he has in mind. That's that.

Then a rare, business-like mood took effect and I started making phone calls and appointments that I've been putting off, in some cases for years. I don't know what came over me but it was a good thing, so I won't worry about it.

What I am beginning to worry about, however, is my head. Over the past couple of months, I've become increasingly forgetful. I open my mouth to say one thing, but an entirely unrelated word will come out instead. Same thing with writing and typing. I either can't type without my fingers tripping over each other, or I go to write one word and something completely different comes out. Not constantly, but enough to annoy. There's a new development tonight. It's kind of funny, actually. I lifted my hand to remove my contact lens... from my ear! I don't know why. I reached up, fully intended to take the lens from my eye, but my hand continued right past the eye and tried to pluck the lens from the air right next to my left ear.

How very odd!

Illustration Friday-Flavor

It's a flavor. Not a good flavor perhaps, but a flavor nonetheless.

Ambivalent

Tonight I finished both the novel I was reading- About Grace by Anthony Doerr- and Myst V (computer game). The title of this post accurately describes how I feel about them both. While they both had elements that I really liked, they also had a lot more that I didn't. I can't say I hated either one; I was occasionally impressed by a scene or a challenge. However I can't endorse them either.

How was that for a nondescript review?

I believe everything will look better after I get some sleep; I haven't had enough lately and it's taking its toll on my mood.

On the plus side, it's snowing. It'll be a prettier world when I wake up...

Photo Friday-Best of 2005

I have nothing to say tonight. In fact, I'm tired of the sound of my voice, figuratively speaking. So I'll just let you know that the topic for Photo Friday this week was Best of 2005. Most of my favorite photos actually predate this past year, so I couldn't use them. In the end I chose this one, from my trip to Colonial Williamsburg. You've all seen it, but PF hasn't and it's decent enough.

Sorry. I'm just feeling tired and out of sorts tonight, so that's all I've got. Better blogging elsewhere!

Playing With Images. Again.

Believe it or not, this was once a photo of a silk sunflower in a Christmas tree on display locally. Amazing what happens when you change an image to its negative, then distort it to its polar coordinates, eh?

original image

Happy New Year 2006!

May it bring you joy, wisdom, health, wealth and peace.

I welcomed in the New Year by kissing the man I love- convenient that he's my husband- and sipping on Martinelli's non-alcoholic sparkling cider. Mom used to give this to me as a child on special occasions such as Christmas and New Year's. It always made me feel so grown up and glamorous. It still does, as it turns out. I felt downright decadent sipping my cider out of a champagne flute from my wedding. How much easier had I stuck to Martinelli's all along! It's far more sophisticated to sip my cider and remain clear-headed than to drink champagne and puke on whatever/whoever's closest. But I needed to go through everything I've gone through or I wouldn't be the Aravis I am now.

I received a lovely compliment this afternoon. Last week I had run into one of my AA friends at the gas station. Tony was there with his son Sean, a young man in his 20's I'd guess. Tony introduced us, we chatted for a minute and then said our good-byes. At the meeting today, Tony told me that his son was really taken with me. After I had left he had turned to Tony and said "Where did you meet such a beautiful woman?" How sweet! I've been feeling a little lumpy and run-down lately, so it was wonderful to hear. Though I have to say that if I was Tony, I might be a little offended that my son thought I couldn't meet "beautiful" women! *G*

My New Year is off to a great start. I hope yours is too!