Several weeks ago, while running into a local pizzeria for a slice one lunch hour, I saw a poster announcing Judy Collins would be in town on February 23 at an old movie theater a mile or so from my house. Neither TV Stevie nor I had ever seen her in concert, so we decided to go.
There was no assigned seating -- general admission only. We arrived about an hour before the show was schedule to begin. At first, TV Stevie wanted to sit three or four rows from the front, but the floor is flat there, and I am short. If someone sat in front of me, I'd be sightless. Then he spotted available seats in the front row to the left of the stage. Oh my gosh. The best seats I have ever had at any concert ever. We had a clear view of the piano keyboard -- of everything.
The show started on time. Ms. Collins's musical director was on the piano while she played a twelve-string guitar. The opening song was Chelsea Morning. She told the amusing story of how President and Mrs. Clinton told her they'd named their daughter after her rendition of the song, and how she suspected they told Joni Mitchell (who wrote it) the same thing.
Ms. Collins chatted with the audience between songs, one time mistakenly calling her locale Buffalo, but she turned it into an amusing anecdote. So many stories to share, with the names of musicians who peopled my teen years. Her play list was eclectic: an interesting meld of Leaving on a Jet Plane and Take Me Home, Country Roads; Purple Heather; Midway; several a capella songs; Ghostriders in the Sky; Helplessly Hoping; a new song, Veterans Day; Bird on a Wire. We heard the stories behind the music.
And her voice. Oh, dear Lord, her voice. The woman is 73 years old. and while there was cracking once in a great, great while, for the most part her voice was as sweet and pure as it ever was, and at times, downright ethereal.
There was a brief intermission, after which, Ms. Collins returned to the stage alone and sat at the piano. She sang two songs: Secret Gardens of the Heart and the Colorado Song. Neither TV Stevie nor I were familiar with either selection, and both were long, but to hear and see her play the piano while singing . . . breath taking. I admit I teared up during the first song, because it reminded me of my grandparents' farm.
Her pianist joined her on stage again for her finale: Send in the Clowns.
Her encore consisted of an a capella version of Buddy Can You Spare a Dime? and Somewhere Over the Rainbow.
No matter how hard and long we applauded, how loudly people begged, that was the end of the concert. No Both Sides Now, no Amazing Grace, no Someday Soon (which TV and I both would have liked to hear her sing).
We are not at all sorry we went. Thank you, Judy Collins, for an excellent evening of music.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Recurring Dreams Recurring
Someone on Facebook commented on my last post about recurring dreams, saying that she'd heard recurring dreams meant unresolved issues.
Interesting.
Well, I dreamed I was moving back to 1911 again this week. This time, it was just me and the cat--who's been dead for 22 years--returning to that apartment with the turquoise refrigerator. The wallpaper in the kitchen and living room was the same, faded only a bit. And the curtains I'd bought back in 1976 were still hanging at the windows, dusty and fragile, but still bright and cheery. Very odd, because I'd stumbled across the avocado-and-cream weave living room drapes in my attic a month or so ago. I'm sure the cream sheers were in the same box.
I'd gotten some disheartening news on Wednesday, dreamed about the apartment that evening. I'm going to start keeping track of those dreams here. Maybe I can trace the source.
Interesting.
Well, I dreamed I was moving back to 1911 again this week. This time, it was just me and the cat--who's been dead for 22 years--returning to that apartment with the turquoise refrigerator. The wallpaper in the kitchen and living room was the same, faded only a bit. And the curtains I'd bought back in 1976 were still hanging at the windows, dusty and fragile, but still bright and cheery. Very odd, because I'd stumbled across the avocado-and-cream weave living room drapes in my attic a month or so ago. I'm sure the cream sheers were in the same box.
I'd gotten some disheartening news on Wednesday, dreamed about the apartment that evening. I'm going to start keeping track of those dreams here. Maybe I can trace the source.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Heritage vs. Bucket List
Last night TV Stevie and I watched the season finale of a popular television show. Many of the scenes were shot in Scotland and featured lovely landscapes. And the entire time I was watching, I was thinking, "I'm part Scottish, yet that looks cold, damp, and miserable." I have no desire to return to either my Scottish or my Irish (or English or Welsh) roots. My ancestors left for a reason. I'll bet climate played a part.
If I ever go abroad, I'm going someplace warm. Someplace dry. I dream of red wine, foods marinated in olive oil, and dusty herb gardens. There are no boots, mittens, or heavy coats. I'd rather hear Pan's pipe than bagpipes. This longing hasn't changed in decades.
Top spot in my bucket list of dream destinations is Greece. I blame author Mary Stewart for this. My Brother Michael, The Moonspinners, and This Rough Magic are three of my favorite novels of all time.
Second on my list is Spain. Again, the warm and dry climate prevails.
After that, in no particular order, are the south of France, northern Italy, and Australia. Not tropical Australia, but the warm, dry part.
Sense a theme here?
If I ever go abroad, I'm going someplace warm. Someplace dry. I dream of red wine, foods marinated in olive oil, and dusty herb gardens. There are no boots, mittens, or heavy coats. I'd rather hear Pan's pipe than bagpipes. This longing hasn't changed in decades.
Top spot in my bucket list of dream destinations is Greece. I blame author Mary Stewart for this. My Brother Michael, The Moonspinners, and This Rough Magic are three of my favorite novels of all time.
Second on my list is Spain. Again, the warm and dry climate prevails.
After that, in no particular order, are the south of France, northern Italy, and Australia. Not tropical Australia, but the warm, dry part.
Sense a theme here?
Saturday, February 02, 2013
Recurring Dreams
Years ago, when I was single, I lived in a little 3-room apartment. I was there for about ten years. My major complaint about the place was how cold it was in the winter. I had a huge kitchen (with an ugly turquoise refrigerator and a marvelous antique Norge gas stove), a bathroom shaped like a bowling alley, a small bedroom, and a small living room. I also had a back porch, access to clotheslines, and more closet space than anyplace I've lived before or since. There was no shower, but there was one of those old, deep, claw-footed bathtubs.
For some reason, I frequently dream that I'm moving back into that apartment. Sometimes it's just me; other times it's with TV Stevie, and sometimes I dream that the Chromos are young again, and the four of us relocate into those four rooms. There is nothing in particular that triggers the dream. It simply happens.
Sometimes, the locale has changed slightly. In reality, the back lawn sloped down to the back lawns of people living on the parallel street, but occasionally I dream there is a river flowing at the base of the lawn.
I dreamed about 1911 (the address) again last week. The landlord was showing me all the remodeling changes he'd made, including enlarging the bedroom by taking out the back hall closet. He'd also painted over the pineapple wall paper in the living room and the yellow-and-orange flowered wall paper in the kitchen. (I really loved that kitchen, except for the turquoise refrigerator).
Maybe someday I'll figure out why that apartment figures so prominently in my sleeping hours.
For some reason, I frequently dream that I'm moving back into that apartment. Sometimes it's just me; other times it's with TV Stevie, and sometimes I dream that the Chromos are young again, and the four of us relocate into those four rooms. There is nothing in particular that triggers the dream. It simply happens.
Sometimes, the locale has changed slightly. In reality, the back lawn sloped down to the back lawns of people living on the parallel street, but occasionally I dream there is a river flowing at the base of the lawn.
I dreamed about 1911 (the address) again last week. The landlord was showing me all the remodeling changes he'd made, including enlarging the bedroom by taking out the back hall closet. He'd also painted over the pineapple wall paper in the living room and the yellow-and-orange flowered wall paper in the kitchen. (I really loved that kitchen, except for the turquoise refrigerator).
Maybe someday I'll figure out why that apartment figures so prominently in my sleeping hours.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sisters
I love my sister.
We don't have a lot in common, but the interest we do share, we share with a passion: words. Whether book, song, movie, or television, we both adore a good story. We're trying to figure out how to play Scrabble on line with each other -- I won't pay for Pogo, and she loathes Facebook. We'll work it out.
But our e-mails consist of such topics as:
She's also my original and most trusted beta reader. Because she is a reader. A lover of words.
And if that's all we have in common (besides family), I can't think of anything else I'd rather have.
Love you, Sissy!
We don't have a lot in common, but the interest we do share, we share with a passion: words. Whether book, song, movie, or television, we both adore a good story. We're trying to figure out how to play Scrabble on line with each other -- I won't pay for Pogo, and she loathes Facebook. We'll work it out.
But our e-mails consist of such topics as:
- "Why didn't you tell me the new JD Robb was coming out next month?"
- "Sorry, have you ever read Lisa Gardner?" "Of course. I have all of her early stuff."
- "Did you see Downton Abbey this week?"
- "I have to lend you two versions of Pride and Prejudice, I can't believe you've never seen it!"
- "Guess what I got from the library today? Neener, neener, nee-ner."
- "Have you ever heard Adele? You have to listen to her!"
She's also my original and most trusted beta reader. Because she is a reader. A lover of words.
And if that's all we have in common (besides family), I can't think of anything else I'd rather have.
Love you, Sissy!
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Goal Check
One of my 2013 goals is to reclaim my music. To that end, I want to have my guitar restrung and start playing again, a minimum of 30 minutes per week. That may not sound like a lot, but I work full time, am editing part time, and I am still writing. Trying to squeeze in 30 minutes a week can be a challenge.
Last week, I looked up the telephone numbers of two music stores in the area. This week, I called them both.
Had I known paying someone else to restring my guitar was so affordable, I would have done it years ago!
Last week, I looked up the telephone numbers of two music stores in the area. This week, I called them both.
Had I known paying someone else to restring my guitar was so affordable, I would have done it years ago!
Sunday, January 06, 2013
Clumps
Ever notice how things seem to happen in clumps?
Example: my sister & husband say celebrity deaths come in threes.
Yesterday was a clump day for me. The topic: flashing lights.
My first errand was accomplished without incident. As I drove to my second stop of the morning, my initial reaction was that the road was closed, but my depth perception is fading with age. There was what appeared to be a water main break with several DPW trucks flashing amber lights.
I didn't think any more of it until four blocks later when I came across the clean-up of a car accident. Either state troopers or county sheriffs and lots of strobing blue and red lights.
When I reached my third destination, there were amber lights again, this time a postal truck being towed.
I arrived at my fourth stop a bit early, so sat in my car and read. Something in the rear-view mirror tagged my attention. More flashing red lights, this time at the head of a funeral procession.
That's when it struck me that the theme of my day seemed to be flashing lights.
The drive to my fifth destination was uneventful, and I forgot about the whole thing. But when I was driving home, there was another automobile accident. There were so many vehicles with lights going it was difficult to tell which lane of the highway I was supposed to be in.
So what kinds of themes have you noticed in your life lately?
Example: my sister & husband say celebrity deaths come in threes.
Yesterday was a clump day for me. The topic: flashing lights.
My first errand was accomplished without incident. As I drove to my second stop of the morning, my initial reaction was that the road was closed, but my depth perception is fading with age. There was what appeared to be a water main break with several DPW trucks flashing amber lights.
I didn't think any more of it until four blocks later when I came across the clean-up of a car accident. Either state troopers or county sheriffs and lots of strobing blue and red lights.
When I reached my third destination, there were amber lights again, this time a postal truck being towed.
I arrived at my fourth stop a bit early, so sat in my car and read. Something in the rear-view mirror tagged my attention. More flashing red lights, this time at the head of a funeral procession.
That's when it struck me that the theme of my day seemed to be flashing lights.
The drive to my fifth destination was uneventful, and I forgot about the whole thing. But when I was driving home, there was another automobile accident. There were so many vehicles with lights going it was difficult to tell which lane of the highway I was supposed to be in.
So what kinds of themes have you noticed in your life lately?
Sunday, December 30, 2012
That (Not This) Time of Year
Thinking about your New Year's Resolutions?
Not me. I set goals for the coming year. My friends and I will get together sometime next week and recap 2012 and look at what we want to do in 2013. This is always a fun time.
I've had some successes: I now call my parents at least once a week. I was horrible about this prior to last year. They won't be around forever. A weekly telephone conversation really helps keep us connected.
A couple of years ago, I added "Monthly date with TV Stevie" and this, too, has been a success. We usually go to a movie or something, but knowing that we're doing something together, not as parents, but as a couple, has added a nice dimension to our lives. Baseball games and work-related functions do not count. (I admit that I stole this from Kris Fletcher. That's the great thing about setting goals with friends: they sometimes have ideas that make sense to you.)
This year's list includes the usual: lose weight; exercise more; writing-related things.
In 2013, I am going to reclaim my music, so one of my goals is to have my guitar re-strung and play for at least an hour a week.
If you're not into resolutions or goals, author Holly Jacobs has come up with a fabulous idea: Word of the Year. Author Samantha Hunter has also adopted this. Check out their blogs to see how this works.
Not me. I set goals for the coming year. My friends and I will get together sometime next week and recap 2012 and look at what we want to do in 2013. This is always a fun time.
I've had some successes: I now call my parents at least once a week. I was horrible about this prior to last year. They won't be around forever. A weekly telephone conversation really helps keep us connected.
A couple of years ago, I added "Monthly date with TV Stevie" and this, too, has been a success. We usually go to a movie or something, but knowing that we're doing something together, not as parents, but as a couple, has added a nice dimension to our lives. Baseball games and work-related functions do not count. (I admit that I stole this from Kris Fletcher. That's the great thing about setting goals with friends: they sometimes have ideas that make sense to you.)
This year's list includes the usual: lose weight; exercise more; writing-related things.
In 2013, I am going to reclaim my music, so one of my goals is to have my guitar re-strung and play for at least an hour a week.
If you're not into resolutions or goals, author Holly Jacobs has come up with a fabulous idea: Word of the Year. Author Samantha Hunter has also adopted this. Check out their blogs to see how this works.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Before Television
Yes boys and girls, there was life before television.
I don't mean before working in television, although there is that, as there is life after working in television, too. No, I mean people had things to do before watching television became the American norm.
Here's a short list of things people used to do before watching television cut off other forms of human interaction:
I don't mean before working in television, although there is that, as there is life after working in television, too. No, I mean people had things to do before watching television became the American norm.
Here's a short list of things people used to do before watching television cut off other forms of human interaction:
- talk
- read
- community bands
- parades
- Christmas caroling
Just because you don't understand it doesn't make it a bad thing, and there's no need for mockery or name-calling. Some people are happy and want to share their happiness. And that's a positive thing. We need more joy in the world.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Especially This Time of Year?
A couple of weeks ago I started writing a blog complaining about the phrase "especially this time of year." I loathe and despise that string of words. Tragedy is tragedy, joy is joy. Helping others shouldn't depend on a date. The Salvation Army used to say, "Hunger knows no season." True. We have to do the right thing year round.
Yesterday, 20 students and seven adults were murdered in a school in Newton, Connecticut.
I waited for someone to say "especially this time of year," and I wasn't disappointed.
I heard it on the news last night. I saw it posted on FaceBook this morning.
So if these people--the adults as well as the children--were murdered in April instead of December, that would be better?
For whom?
Why?
Sorry, I disagree. Their deaths are an outrage, a travesty, and a deep, lingering sorrow that will never go away for their families and friends, and that doesn't change whether it's Christmas, the Fourth of July, or Arbor Day.
Yesterday, 20 students and seven adults were murdered in a school in Newton, Connecticut.
I waited for someone to say "especially this time of year," and I wasn't disappointed.
I heard it on the news last night. I saw it posted on FaceBook this morning.
So if these people--the adults as well as the children--were murdered in April instead of December, that would be better?
For whom?
Why?
Sorry, I disagree. Their deaths are an outrage, a travesty, and a deep, lingering sorrow that will never go away for their families and friends, and that doesn't change whether it's Christmas, the Fourth of July, or Arbor Day.
Saturday, December 08, 2012
Working Weekend - The Writing Life
I'm taking this weekend to work at my writing job. Too often, especially this time of year, the physical act of writing gets shunted aside by other obligations, and when writing is a person's second job, it isn't always given the respect it deserves, much less the priority it needs.
Being a writer isn't only about writing. There is a lot of maintenance, even before one is published, that needs nurturing: websites, Facebook, Twitter, blogs, etc. It's enough to make a woman want to give up her dream. But it must be done. Even during the holiday season. So I'm taking this weekend to not only reach the 1000 word mark on a novella project and rewrite (for the 2000th time) chapter two of my current work-in-progress, but here I am blogging. I need to freshen my website. I'm tootling around a bit on Facebook.
And I need to work on my goals for next year. I need to think about every part of my life and what I want to improve. Are the areas I identified last year still relevant for the coming year? What other areas should be addressed?
A lot of things to fit into two short days. When Monday morning rolls around and I'm back at the Day Job, I want to know I didn't fritter away my time.
Onward.
Being a writer isn't only about writing. There is a lot of maintenance, even before one is published, that needs nurturing: websites, Facebook, Twitter, blogs, etc. It's enough to make a woman want to give up her dream. But it must be done. Even during the holiday season. So I'm taking this weekend to not only reach the 1000 word mark on a novella project and rewrite (for the 2000th time) chapter two of my current work-in-progress, but here I am blogging. I need to freshen my website. I'm tootling around a bit on Facebook.
And I need to work on my goals for next year. I need to think about every part of my life and what I want to improve. Are the areas I identified last year still relevant for the coming year? What other areas should be addressed?
A lot of things to fit into two short days. When Monday morning rolls around and I'm back at the Day Job, I want to know I didn't fritter away my time.
Onward.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Sweet Potato Galette
Mom asked me to make either a sweet potato or squash side dish for Thanksgiving dinner. For the past several years, I've made butternut squash with baby spinach, but now spinach and cranberries have been added to the ever-rowing lists of foods that someone in the family can't eat. We also try to avoid dairy (two severe allergies plus sporadic lactose intolerance) and gluten (one severe allergy). And the thought of marshmallows on sweet potatoes makes my teeth ache.
Luckily, I like to cook. I like to look at recipes. I decided to make a sweet potato galette. I made a galette once in the past, and I remember it as labor intensive. I surfed the web looking for recipes, but most sweet potato versions included cheese or sweet stuff. Time to just make it up as I go, using online guidelines for the process, but not the ingredients.
Step 1 - Mend my apron.
I love my apron. The pocket came unstitched in one corner. Yes, I mended it with purple thread because X-Chromo used up my black thread. Yesterday.
Step 2 - Scrub and peel sweet potatoes.
Please note that I bought long skinny sweet potatoes to make the slicing process easier.
Step 3 - Slice the sweet potatoes into 1/8" thick rounds with a mandoline.
Step 4 - Mutilate an onion.
The only time I miss wearing contact lenses when I'm chopping onions.
Step 5 - pour Wegmans Basting Oil into a large cast iron skillet.
If you don't have a Wegmans near you, perhaps your supermarket sells seasoned oils. If not, you should move some place where there is a Wegmans. Just not near me, because there are already too many people at my Wegmans. The parking lot is a nightmare.
Step 6 - layer the rounds of sweet potatoes, slightly over lapping, into the skillet. Top with some onion, drizzle with some basting oil.
Step 7 - Repeat step 6 until all sweet potatoes & onions are used.
Step 8 - Cover the sweet potato mixture with a round of aluminum foil. Non Stick. And make sure the non-stick side is down. Trust me.
Step 9 - Weight the foil with another cast iron skillet (slightly smaller than the first skillet)
Step 10 - Cook on medium heat for 5 minutes. Then put into a pre-heated 425 degree oven for 25 minutes.
Ignore my dirty oven. I do.
Step 11 - Remove top skillet and foil. Bake for another 25 minutes.
Step 12 - Remove from oven. Let sit for 5 minutes. Loosen edges with spatula. Flip onto a platter.
Nope. But it tastes good. I put it in a shallow baking dish with a cover and will transport to Mom & Dad's, reheat in the microwave. I just wanted it to look pretty, you know?
Luckily, I like to cook. I like to look at recipes. I decided to make a sweet potato galette. I made a galette once in the past, and I remember it as labor intensive. I surfed the web looking for recipes, but most sweet potato versions included cheese or sweet stuff. Time to just make it up as I go, using online guidelines for the process, but not the ingredients.
Step 1 - Mend my apron.
I love my apron. The pocket came unstitched in one corner. Yes, I mended it with purple thread because X-Chromo used up my black thread. Yesterday.
Step 2 - Scrub and peel sweet potatoes.
Please note that I bought long skinny sweet potatoes to make the slicing process easier.
Step 3 - Slice the sweet potatoes into 1/8" thick rounds with a mandoline.
Step 4 - Mutilate an onion.
The only time I miss wearing contact lenses when I'm chopping onions.
Step 5 - pour Wegmans Basting Oil into a large cast iron skillet.
If you don't have a Wegmans near you, perhaps your supermarket sells seasoned oils. If not, you should move some place where there is a Wegmans. Just not near me, because there are already too many people at my Wegmans. The parking lot is a nightmare.
Step 6 - layer the rounds of sweet potatoes, slightly over lapping, into the skillet. Top with some onion, drizzle with some basting oil.
Step 7 - Repeat step 6 until all sweet potatoes & onions are used.
Step 8 - Cover the sweet potato mixture with a round of aluminum foil. Non Stick. And make sure the non-stick side is down. Trust me.
Step 9 - Weight the foil with another cast iron skillet (slightly smaller than the first skillet)
Step 10 - Cook on medium heat for 5 minutes. Then put into a pre-heated 425 degree oven for 25 minutes.
Ignore my dirty oven. I do.
Step 11 - Remove top skillet and foil. Bake for another 25 minutes.
Step 12 - Remove from oven. Let sit for 5 minutes. Loosen edges with spatula. Flip onto a platter.
It's supposed to look like a large pancake, but with texture.
Nope. But it tastes good. I put it in a shallow baking dish with a cover and will transport to Mom & Dad's, reheat in the microwave. I just wanted it to look pretty, you know?
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Home-From-College Comfort Foods
X-Chromo is home from college for a little over a week. I went grocery shopping the other night, and stocked up on foods for meals we could eat as a family. When the children were young, we ate a lot of pasta. Once they went off to college, TV Stevie and I started eating a little healthier -- dinner salads, more beans, grains and vegetables, homemade soups, etc. Pasta isn't on our radar much anymore.
X made a snide comment on FaceBook the other night about 2 boxes of Rice Krispies and a gallon of milk not tough to buy. Well, there was a lot more in my cart for her than cereal (although I did forget her Nilla Wafers). And I had to make sure the basics were in house -- bread in the freezer, peanut butter in the pantry, boxes of mac-and-cheese in the cupboard, margarine for her mac-and-cheese in the fridge. Oh, and let's not forget the ingredients for baking molasses cookies. She is a molasses-cookie-baking fool. In a good way, of course.
But mostly I concentrated on meals, not what she eats between meals. Tried to remember her favorites. Tortellini soup. Broccoli stuffed chicken with rice. Tacos. Maybe we'll do Chinese take-out one night. When she's home on mid-winter break, I plan to make a chicken thigh-sweet potato-savoy cabbage stew that she adores. The thighs are already in the freezer.
I'm glad she's home, and my mommy-genes want to nurture her.
X made a snide comment on FaceBook the other night about 2 boxes of Rice Krispies and a gallon of milk not tough to buy. Well, there was a lot more in my cart for her than cereal (although I did forget her Nilla Wafers). And I had to make sure the basics were in house -- bread in the freezer, peanut butter in the pantry, boxes of mac-and-cheese in the cupboard, margarine for her mac-and-cheese in the fridge. Oh, and let's not forget the ingredients for baking molasses cookies. She is a molasses-cookie-baking fool. In a good way, of course.
But mostly I concentrated on meals, not what she eats between meals. Tried to remember her favorites. Tortellini soup. Broccoli stuffed chicken with rice. Tacos. Maybe we'll do Chinese take-out one night. When she's home on mid-winter break, I plan to make a chicken thigh-sweet potato-savoy cabbage stew that she adores. The thighs are already in the freezer.
I'm glad she's home, and my mommy-genes want to nurture her.
Monday, November 05, 2012
Myth Busting: Another Crackpot Theory?
Several years ago, I started examining the obits in the local newspaper, particularly those of women. I wanted to see if the "fact" that most women in the mid-twentieth century were, in fact, stay-at-home mothers.
My mom was (fifties & sixties) as were most of my aunts. My grandmothers were not. The mothers of most of my friends were not. Checking the obits gave me a broader base from which to draw my (very unscientific) conclusions.
Here's what I found (in my neck of the woods):
The Stay-At Home Mothers was a myth born in the post WWII and specifically post-Korean Conflict politicians, sometimes known as the Eisenhower Era.
Of every ten women listed in the obits, an average of two were stay-home mothers (professional housewives). Everyone else either worked outside the home (sales ladies at the department stores, teachers, nurses, secretaries, or factory workers) or were professional "volunteers".
Professional "volunteers" were the women who handled charity fund-raisers etc., doing most of the work for the organizations -- without pay. I once heard a male head of a not-for-profit proclaim -- in the early 1990's -- that women in the workforce has hurt charities because there was no one left to volunteer.
Yes. I really heard him say that.
My mom was (fifties & sixties) as were most of my aunts. My grandmothers were not. The mothers of most of my friends were not. Checking the obits gave me a broader base from which to draw my (very unscientific) conclusions.
Here's what I found (in my neck of the woods):
The Stay-At Home Mothers was a myth born in the post WWII and specifically post-Korean Conflict politicians, sometimes known as the Eisenhower Era.
Of every ten women listed in the obits, an average of two were stay-home mothers (professional housewives). Everyone else either worked outside the home (sales ladies at the department stores, teachers, nurses, secretaries, or factory workers) or were professional "volunteers".
Professional "volunteers" were the women who handled charity fund-raisers etc., doing most of the work for the organizations -- without pay. I once heard a male head of a not-for-profit proclaim -- in the early 1990's -- that women in the workforce has hurt charities because there was no one left to volunteer.
Yes. I really heard him say that.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Frankenstorm
I'm lucky enough to live in a city that handles "severe" weather pretty well. Still, it doesn't hurt to be prepared.
I won't rush out to purchase bread, milk, or eggs. We might need some D batteries for the big radio in the kitchen in case the power goes out, but I have my Walkman and we have a plethora of the AA batteries it consumes, as does the portable speaker unit we can plug into the Walkman.
I may hit the grocery store for silly things: Mexican cheese to top chili; more onions for sausage, pepper & onion sandwiches; apples, just because they're tasty this time of year. Other than that, my freezer and larder are already in winter preparedness mode. Cans of beans, broths, and tomatoes in various formats; rice and pasta; various types of breads and rolls (all in the freezer). Cheeses. All kinds of frozen veggies -- spinach, broccoli, cauliflower, green beans. And there's the cooking water from last week's spaghetti squash experiment. I froze it so use in soups. Did I mention I have a gas stove, so cooking isn't an issue?
We discussed whether or not to keep our cars in the garage. If there's a power outage, we won't be able to get to them. We decided to risk it.
My children are both away at colleges that are used to severe weather situations and that have plans in place for the safety of their students. Y-Chromo is a Resident Advisor, so he's in on all of the preparedness planning. Besides, he's an old hand at it, having suffered through Irene last September. X-Chromo's school is more of a blizzard-survival kind of place, but high winds are high winds, and her school has a rep for high winds, including rumors of a minimum weight requirement for students (not true) and stories of ropes strung along all the walkways for students to grasp so they won't be blown into the lake (also not true).
So I'm not going to obsessively worry about them. Obsessive worrying will only make me crazy, which accomplishes nothing except making me crazy, which isn't one of my goals in life. I have to trust their good judgment and the people in charge of the facilities.
I won't rush out to purchase bread, milk, or eggs. We might need some D batteries for the big radio in the kitchen in case the power goes out, but I have my Walkman and we have a plethora of the AA batteries it consumes, as does the portable speaker unit we can plug into the Walkman.
I may hit the grocery store for silly things: Mexican cheese to top chili; more onions for sausage, pepper & onion sandwiches; apples, just because they're tasty this time of year. Other than that, my freezer and larder are already in winter preparedness mode. Cans of beans, broths, and tomatoes in various formats; rice and pasta; various types of breads and rolls (all in the freezer). Cheeses. All kinds of frozen veggies -- spinach, broccoli, cauliflower, green beans. And there's the cooking water from last week's spaghetti squash experiment. I froze it so use in soups. Did I mention I have a gas stove, so cooking isn't an issue?
We discussed whether or not to keep our cars in the garage. If there's a power outage, we won't be able to get to them. We decided to risk it.
My children are both away at colleges that are used to severe weather situations and that have plans in place for the safety of their students. Y-Chromo is a Resident Advisor, so he's in on all of the preparedness planning. Besides, he's an old hand at it, having suffered through Irene last September. X-Chromo's school is more of a blizzard-survival kind of place, but high winds are high winds, and her school has a rep for high winds, including rumors of a minimum weight requirement for students (not true) and stories of ropes strung along all the walkways for students to grasp so they won't be blown into the lake (also not true).
So I'm not going to obsessively worry about them. Obsessive worrying will only make me crazy, which accomplishes nothing except making me crazy, which isn't one of my goals in life. I have to trust their good judgment and the people in charge of the facilities.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
City Living
We live in a medium sized city, best known for the basketball team of the university bearing the same name as the city. TV Stevie and I like living in the city. He is a Bronx native, and I'm from rural upstate New York. Our city is a nice compromise between the two.
When our children were in school, we debated moving to the 'burbs, but couldn't swing it at the time. We learned the public schools aren't as bad as people -- the press and others -- make them out to be. My children just as well on their state tests as children in suburban schools. Maybe they didn't have as many opportunities for after school activities, but that's life. That's reality. They were both accepted into every college to which they applied and both are doing just fine.
We like the convenience of being only minutes from the entertainment venues: the baseball stadium, the Civic Center, and the various theatrical venues. Our city is also located less than two hours from other things we enjoy. It's a good place to live.
But there are downsides, and in recent months, those downsides are becoming more prevalent. People now drop their unwanted electronics on our corner. The city says it's our problem.
People let their dogs do their business on our lawn and don't clean up after the beasts. Or, as has happened a couple of times, do clean it up, but place the bags of excrement in our garbage can. Seriously. And last weekend, TV discovered that someone is letting a large dog walk up the driveway of the house next door to us, where the dog does its business on the strip of grass belonging to us that TV tries to keep mown. People, I don't let my children crap on your grass. Please return the courtesy!
A few weeks ago, TV discovered a bag of batteries on our lawn. Someone just tossed them there, so it became our responsibility to recycle them.
Speaking of recycling, since our supermarket has installed machines to handle bottle & can recycling, we've debated whether or not recycling is worth the aggravation. But don't despair! Our bottles and cans won't go into a landfill. Every garbage night, the scavengers roam, looking for anything they can recycle (they once woke me up while beating apart our old sleeper sofa for the metal). Maybe putting our cans and bottles in our recycle bin will put food on a poor person's table or school supplies for an underprivileged student.
Someone else recycling our cans and bottles could be another benefit of city living.
When our children were in school, we debated moving to the 'burbs, but couldn't swing it at the time. We learned the public schools aren't as bad as people -- the press and others -- make them out to be. My children just as well on their state tests as children in suburban schools. Maybe they didn't have as many opportunities for after school activities, but that's life. That's reality. They were both accepted into every college to which they applied and both are doing just fine.
We like the convenience of being only minutes from the entertainment venues: the baseball stadium, the Civic Center, and the various theatrical venues. Our city is also located less than two hours from other things we enjoy. It's a good place to live.
But there are downsides, and in recent months, those downsides are becoming more prevalent. People now drop their unwanted electronics on our corner. The city says it's our problem.
People let their dogs do their business on our lawn and don't clean up after the beasts. Or, as has happened a couple of times, do clean it up, but place the bags of excrement in our garbage can. Seriously. And last weekend, TV discovered that someone is letting a large dog walk up the driveway of the house next door to us, where the dog does its business on the strip of grass belonging to us that TV tries to keep mown. People, I don't let my children crap on your grass. Please return the courtesy!
A few weeks ago, TV discovered a bag of batteries on our lawn. Someone just tossed them there, so it became our responsibility to recycle them.
Speaking of recycling, since our supermarket has installed machines to handle bottle & can recycling, we've debated whether or not recycling is worth the aggravation. But don't despair! Our bottles and cans won't go into a landfill. Every garbage night, the scavengers roam, looking for anything they can recycle (they once woke me up while beating apart our old sleeper sofa for the metal). Maybe putting our cans and bottles in our recycle bin will put food on a poor person's table or school supplies for an underprivileged student.
Someone else recycling our cans and bottles could be another benefit of city living.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Jury Duty Observations
Several weeks ago, I received a questionnaire with regard to jury duty. I replied on-line. A few weeks later, I received a summons.
Unlike many people, the thought of jury duty doesn't annoy me. I'm fascinated by the process and would love to sit on a jury. Plus I'm a reader, which means if there's a chance I'm going to be sitting around waiting for something, there's going to be a book in my bag. What's not to like about a day off from work reading?
I had to report on Tuesday, as Monday was Columbus Day observed. I arrived early enough to park in the garage where I could get a discounted rate. (Yes, it still cost me $4 to park, something that irks me, but it's part of the free enterprise system, right?)
While going through the metal detectors and other processes required to become a juror, I noticed there are a lot of smokers left in the world. Most of them seemed concentrated in that room. Around me. There's nothing like the stench of cigarette smoke mixed with heavy perfume to annoy a person. I was also surprised at the number of people wearing jeans.
I was in the first batch of jurors to be assigned to a case. Manslaughter.
My number had yet to be called when we were dismissed for lunch. I was lucky and found a hot dog vendor and a bench in the warm autumn sunshine. Perfect day to sit outside and eat.
I was the final potential juror called before the mid-afternoon break. The prosecutor asked me one question (several versions of the same question): did I understand the difference between intent and premeditation? The defense ignored me. I was dismissed at around 4pm.
The consensus of the other dismissed jurors was the same as mine: the defendant was going claim bullying as a motive, the prosecution was going to say the defendant waiting too long (another day?) to defend himself.
I enjoyed listening to the responses of the other potential jurors, especially one young man, Respiratory Therapist. When asked if someone were beating up on him, would he use a gun to defend himself, RT replied that he might. Not to shoot someone, but if he had one, he might pull it out to intimidate his attacker. RT also had many disparaging things to say about the site of the crime. "Everybody knows the southside is a bad section," he said.
Then the topic of bullying came up again. One potential juror said, "It's been around forever, but now it's a societal issue." He did not speak in a positive manner. RT carried the discussion even further: "It's like giving last-place teams a trophy because they participated. That's what's wrong with the world today. So people get bullied. Get over it. "
Wow. As a clutch of us walked back to the parking garage, RT admitted he might have laid it on a bit thick so he'd be dismissed, but he also didn't lie about his beliefs.
And now I'm done for at least ten years.
Unlike many people, the thought of jury duty doesn't annoy me. I'm fascinated by the process and would love to sit on a jury. Plus I'm a reader, which means if there's a chance I'm going to be sitting around waiting for something, there's going to be a book in my bag. What's not to like about a day off from work reading?
I had to report on Tuesday, as Monday was Columbus Day observed. I arrived early enough to park in the garage where I could get a discounted rate. (Yes, it still cost me $4 to park, something that irks me, but it's part of the free enterprise system, right?)
While going through the metal detectors and other processes required to become a juror, I noticed there are a lot of smokers left in the world. Most of them seemed concentrated in that room. Around me. There's nothing like the stench of cigarette smoke mixed with heavy perfume to annoy a person. I was also surprised at the number of people wearing jeans.
I was in the first batch of jurors to be assigned to a case. Manslaughter.
My number had yet to be called when we were dismissed for lunch. I was lucky and found a hot dog vendor and a bench in the warm autumn sunshine. Perfect day to sit outside and eat.
I was the final potential juror called before the mid-afternoon break. The prosecutor asked me one question (several versions of the same question): did I understand the difference between intent and premeditation? The defense ignored me. I was dismissed at around 4pm.
The consensus of the other dismissed jurors was the same as mine: the defendant was going claim bullying as a motive, the prosecution was going to say the defendant waiting too long (another day?) to defend himself.
I enjoyed listening to the responses of the other potential jurors, especially one young man, Respiratory Therapist. When asked if someone were beating up on him, would he use a gun to defend himself, RT replied that he might. Not to shoot someone, but if he had one, he might pull it out to intimidate his attacker. RT also had many disparaging things to say about the site of the crime. "Everybody knows the southside is a bad section," he said.
Then the topic of bullying came up again. One potential juror said, "It's been around forever, but now it's a societal issue." He did not speak in a positive manner. RT carried the discussion even further: "It's like giving last-place teams a trophy because they participated. That's what's wrong with the world today. So people get bullied. Get over it. "
Wow. As a clutch of us walked back to the parking garage, RT admitted he might have laid it on a bit thick so he'd be dismissed, but he also didn't lie about his beliefs.
And now I'm done for at least ten years.
Sunday, September 09, 2012
September: The Real World Resumes
The real world has resumed. For a lot of people, that means school is back in session. My chromos are in college, and they return to their respective campuses in August. Triple A Baseball is over for the season, so TV Stevie and I aren't at the stadium every night there's a home game. Summer is over, even though technically that won't happen for another week or two.
This morning, TV Stevie suggested we do the Creekwalk. We haven't been since spring. I liked the idea, so when he returned from his meeting, we put on our walking shoes and went. Instead of walking from the Inner Harbor to Onondaga Lake, we decided to try the Inner Harbor to downtown Syracuse route, which we've done only once.
It's a nice day for a walk. And the Creekwalk is lovely.
There was something going on at the Dinosaur Barbecue. The band sounded pretty good.
We didn't walk all the way to Armory Square, but turned around at the Niagara Mohawk Building.
It's funny how last weekend was still summer, still hazy, hot, humid, and yet today is definitely autumnal.
This morning, TV Stevie suggested we do the Creekwalk. We haven't been since spring. I liked the idea, so when he returned from his meeting, we put on our walking shoes and went. Instead of walking from the Inner Harbor to Onondaga Lake, we decided to try the Inner Harbor to downtown Syracuse route, which we've done only once.
.jpg) |
| Geese (or ducks?) resting in the shade |
There was something going on at the Dinosaur Barbecue. The band sounded pretty good.
 |
| The police car is NOT there because of a crime, just crowd control |
We didn't walk all the way to Armory Square, but turned around at the Niagara Mohawk Building.
It's funny how last weekend was still summer, still hazy, hot, humid, and yet today is definitely autumnal.
Friday, August 31, 2012
A Five Star Night
I have not been to the Great New York State Fair since about 2006. I wouldn't have gone this year, except the Happy Together 2012 tour was playing for free in the Free Concert Court. After Davy Jones died earlier this year, I vowed to take advantage of seeing the musicians of my youth in person any time I could. So that meant attending this year's State Fair.
We arrived about 90 minutes before the show. Not a seat to be found in the court. We went off in search of dinner -- sausage sandwiches, of course. We wandered back to the court and found a grassy area to the right of the stage near a big screen and plopped ourselves down on the ground to wait. Eventually the concert was intro'd by local radio personality Gary Dunes, who, in turn intro'd Senator Chuck Schumer (who forgot to mention the Grass Roots in his version of the intro).
First up: The Buckinghams. I have never seen the Buckinghams in person. I love the Buckinghams. They were awesome.
During their set, security walked around our area and made people sit. They were applauded for their efforts. Some people just don't get it. Like the tripod guy. He thought he'd stand during the whole concert and record it and didn't understand why the people behind him kept yelling at him.
Next up: The Grass Roots. I've seen the Grass Roots in concert before, but not since Rob Grill died. The band was good, but the lead singer didn't have the same quality of sound as Rob Grill. They covered CSN&Y's "Cost of Freedom" before launching into "Live for Today" in honor of the vets in the audience.
Gary Puckett followed the Grass Roots. Gary Puckett's vibrato gets worse by the year. Weakest spot in the lineup. He, too, honored the vets.
Then came the performer I'd come to see: Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees.
Mickey honored Davy Jones by singing two of of Davy's songs ("Daydream Believer" and "Little Bit Me, Little Bit You"). A montage on the big video screen of magazine covers, photos from recording sessions, etc. brought tears to my eyes.
Mickey reminded the crowed that he sang "I'm A Believer" before Shrek did.
Mickey was always my favorite Monkee, so being able to scream his name at a live concert . . . well, scratch that off my bucket list.
Several people were escorted from the court by state troopers during Mickey's set.
The final act was The Turtles: Flow & Eddy. As usual, they were amazing. Their set started out with a Lady Gaga video, which they interrupted with the question: "What happened to our music? It's not supposed to sound like that! It's supposed to sound like this!" And they launched into "Only Wanna Be With You."
The Grand Finale turned out to be each of the acts coming out to perform a portion of one of their songs again. It was fabulous.
Stereo Steve Becker, along with his wife & son, sat near us during the concert. Stereo Steve would periodically come over to say something concert-related to TV Stevie. After the concert, we hung around talking for bit, then wandered to the area behind the stage. That's where Carl Giammarese and Nick Fortuna of The Buckinghams spent a very long time shaking hands and signing autographs.
I did catch a glimpse of Mickey Dolenz as he came out of his dressing room and got into a car to leave. "Mickey!" Wow. I got to scream it twice!
While there, we ran into the ubiquitous Bill DeLapp of the Syracuse New Times, who was busy snapping photos of the musicians.
All in all, it was a five star night in more ways than one.
We arrived about 90 minutes before the show. Not a seat to be found in the court. We went off in search of dinner -- sausage sandwiches, of course. We wandered back to the court and found a grassy area to the right of the stage near a big screen and plopped ourselves down on the ground to wait. Eventually the concert was intro'd by local radio personality Gary Dunes, who, in turn intro'd Senator Chuck Schumer (who forgot to mention the Grass Roots in his version of the intro).
First up: The Buckinghams. I have never seen the Buckinghams in person. I love the Buckinghams. They were awesome.
During their set, security walked around our area and made people sit. They were applauded for their efforts. Some people just don't get it. Like the tripod guy. He thought he'd stand during the whole concert and record it and didn't understand why the people behind him kept yelling at him.
Next up: The Grass Roots. I've seen the Grass Roots in concert before, but not since Rob Grill died. The band was good, but the lead singer didn't have the same quality of sound as Rob Grill. They covered CSN&Y's "Cost of Freedom" before launching into "Live for Today" in honor of the vets in the audience.
Gary Puckett followed the Grass Roots. Gary Puckett's vibrato gets worse by the year. Weakest spot in the lineup. He, too, honored the vets.
Then came the performer I'd come to see: Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees.
Mickey honored Davy Jones by singing two of of Davy's songs ("Daydream Believer" and "Little Bit Me, Little Bit You"). A montage on the big video screen of magazine covers, photos from recording sessions, etc. brought tears to my eyes.
Mickey reminded the crowed that he sang "I'm A Believer" before Shrek did.
Mickey was always my favorite Monkee, so being able to scream his name at a live concert . . . well, scratch that off my bucket list.
Several people were escorted from the court by state troopers during Mickey's set.
The final act was The Turtles: Flow & Eddy. As usual, they were amazing. Their set started out with a Lady Gaga video, which they interrupted with the question: "What happened to our music? It's not supposed to sound like that! It's supposed to sound like this!" And they launched into "Only Wanna Be With You."
The Grand Finale turned out to be each of the acts coming out to perform a portion of one of their songs again. It was fabulous.
Stereo Steve Becker, along with his wife & son, sat near us during the concert. Stereo Steve would periodically come over to say something concert-related to TV Stevie. After the concert, we hung around talking for bit, then wandered to the area behind the stage. That's where Carl Giammarese and Nick Fortuna of The Buckinghams spent a very long time shaking hands and signing autographs.
I did catch a glimpse of Mickey Dolenz as he came out of his dressing room and got into a car to leave. "Mickey!" Wow. I got to scream it twice!
While there, we ran into the ubiquitous Bill DeLapp of the Syracuse New Times, who was busy snapping photos of the musicians.
All in all, it was a five star night in more ways than one.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
One for the Money: Reflection on the Movie
I have been waiting since 1997 for the motion picture version of Janet Evanovich's One for the Money.
My sister had lent me the first two books of the series. They sat in my TBR pile forever. When I finally picked up the first one, I read it cover-to-cover, then picked up the second and read that cover-to-cover. No sleep that night. The next day I borrowed the third book from the library. Fabulous stories, fabulous characters.
These will make great movies! I thought. Maybe I can option the books. Not that I know anything at all about optioning books, but I looked into it and learned SONY/Columbia Tri-Star (or whatever they were called back then) had beaten me to the punch.
I would pre-order the next installment from Amazon. When it arrived, my co-workers and I would lock ourselves in a conference room during our lunch hour, and I would read the first chapter aloud to the others, so we'd all know the answer to the cliffhanger from the previous installment. We asked each other, "What would Stephanie do?"
Around book nine or ten, a little disgusted with dog poop and Too Stupid To Live (TSTL) behavior on the parts of all the characters, I stopped buying the books, but I kept abreast of the saga of Stephanie, Joe and Ranger via the library.
And I waited 15 years for the movie.
The movie came out to poor reviews. I put it on hold at the library. I could wait a few more months.
For 91 minutes of my life I will never get back.
I'm a writer. I understand that novels aren't written like motion pictures, that internal angst doesn't interpret well in cinema, and that scenes have to be combined, dropped, dramatically changed. I understand that the characters in my head created by the author's words aren't necessarily going to be someone else's vision of the characters.
But come on already. Evanovich created memorable characters, filled with sass and vitality, none of which made it to the movie. Funny, snarky dialogue never made it to the script. Sexual tension was more like old Silly String than a tight rope.
If I'd been able to option the books, the script would have been a lot closer to the characters Evanovich wrote than the insipid stuff I watched last night.
My sister had lent me the first two books of the series. They sat in my TBR pile forever. When I finally picked up the first one, I read it cover-to-cover, then picked up the second and read that cover-to-cover. No sleep that night. The next day I borrowed the third book from the library. Fabulous stories, fabulous characters.
These will make great movies! I thought. Maybe I can option the books. Not that I know anything at all about optioning books, but I looked into it and learned SONY/Columbia Tri-Star (or whatever they were called back then) had beaten me to the punch.
I would pre-order the next installment from Amazon. When it arrived, my co-workers and I would lock ourselves in a conference room during our lunch hour, and I would read the first chapter aloud to the others, so we'd all know the answer to the cliffhanger from the previous installment. We asked each other, "What would Stephanie do?"
Around book nine or ten, a little disgusted with dog poop and Too Stupid To Live (TSTL) behavior on the parts of all the characters, I stopped buying the books, but I kept abreast of the saga of Stephanie, Joe and Ranger via the library.
And I waited 15 years for the movie.
The movie came out to poor reviews. I put it on hold at the library. I could wait a few more months.
For 91 minutes of my life I will never get back.
I'm a writer. I understand that novels aren't written like motion pictures, that internal angst doesn't interpret well in cinema, and that scenes have to be combined, dropped, dramatically changed. I understand that the characters in my head created by the author's words aren't necessarily going to be someone else's vision of the characters.
But come on already. Evanovich created memorable characters, filled with sass and vitality, none of which made it to the movie. Funny, snarky dialogue never made it to the script. Sexual tension was more like old Silly String than a tight rope.
If I'd been able to option the books, the script would have been a lot closer to the characters Evanovich wrote than the insipid stuff I watched last night.
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