loose string

"One-way streets and square one, The answers don't come from any one direction"

 

We'll see whose ridin' who at the end of the race

I consider myself fairly open-minded.  I am aware of most of the new music and the new artists.  I don't always like everything but I don't have to.  This music is not written with me as the target audience.  I can appreciate a catchy beat or a bit of fun lyric.  If it is appealing I can usually find the appeal.

That said, I must protest.  What the hell is up with this Black Eyed Peas song "My Humps"?  This is a truly awful song from a truly average band.  But how can anyone hear these lyrics and not bust up laughing?

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)

and

My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got u,
She’s got me spending.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me.
She’s got me spendin’.
(Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me

This is the worst lyric I have ever heard. And I must state for the record that I was around for all of the hits of the 70's and Hair Metal.  I know some awfully bad songs.  When I first heard this song I thought it was a joke.  Then I couldn't figure out who it was.  Then, imagine my surprise when I open my ITunes and there it is #3 on the most popular list.  What the hell?  My dog is a better song writer.

I can just imagine that Fergie has set out to write an empowering song.  One that she can sing with all the feminine pride she can muster.  So, she sits down and decides she will write about her boobs and her ass.  Those being her most important accomplishments.  But surely you can't just write a song and sing about tits and ass.  The censors would cut that song to shreds.  Must come up with an appropriate euphemism for the all important body parts.  Something sexy.  Something erotic.  Oh yes.....humps.   That is a really hot bit of description.  But let's mix it up a bit.  Need another little euphemism just in case "humps" is not clear enough.  Let's see.  Oh yes...lovely lady lumps.  Nothing hotter than lumps.  Or cuter than lovely lady lumps.  Maybe the alliteration was supposed to make this artistic.

Good God. I am listening to a Motley Crue, Warrant, Poison, Ratt marathon to cleanse myself.

posted by: loosestring at 22:30 | link | comments (3) |

I have been remiss with the updates around here.  Needless to say, I have been thinking about you, Internet, I have just been too overwhelmed to write coherently about my life.

There have been a lot of really good things this last week such as my visit from my sister.  There are very few people who I relate to in the same way I do my sister.  We have that shorthand language that comes from our common history but I think it is even more so because we are so close in age and were the only constant friend for each other through the many moves of our childhood.  My sister is one of the few people of whom I never tire.  That's saying something.  We decided that I could set up a moat full of alligators or station a troll under the bridge that leads to my very own remote island and live quite happily.  As long as I had high speed internet and cable.   I would even forgo the cable.  I like the quiet and I am most happy inside my own head.  I suppose I would let my sister visit occasionally. 

We took my son shopping for a suit.  He will be going to the Homecoming Dance at school and he needs a suit for graduation so we decided it was time.  He looked so very handsome that I was trying not to be weepy and embarass him in front of the salesman.  He is all grown up and when I think about that I am flooded with the most bittersweet mixture of joy and sadness and pride and apprehension.  He has grown up to be thoughtful and kind and generous.  There is not a mean-spirited bone in his body.  He is the kind of person I would like to be.  Maybe when I grow up.

There have been a lot of crappy things but they are the usual: work, life, school, etc.  I have covered this territory ad nauseum.  Suffice it to say that everything is status quo on those fronts.

This weekend I will be working in the garden to begin to winterize everything.  I have bulbs to plant and a few plants to move and then I sit back and watch the slow death.  I am sometimes unable to enjoy Fall because I am so very aware of what comes next.  Part of it is a Seasonal Affective Disorder thing but part of it is that I don't want to green growing things to go away.  I don't want the days to get shorter and the air to get colder.  I don't want the Summer to come to an end.

posted by: loosestring at 09:12 | link | comments |

They're creepy and they're kooky, Mysterious and spooky...

A quick story from this weekend.

My sister was a bit tired and quite bleary-eyed due to all of the non-stop partying of this weekend.  Also because my dog Ernie kept going in to check on her and waking her up with the clicking of toenails on hardwood floors. 

We decided to go shopping in one of the nearby quaint little towns on Saturday.  We wandered in and out through many little shops looking at tchotchke and clothing and home decorating items that neither of us would ever actually choose to have in our homes.  It was mostly window shopping.

We wandered into one more of the quaint little shops and walked over to a large display of scented candles. I picked one  up and my sister was right behind me looking a bit puzzled at the display.  Then she started to laugh and she says, "I was trying to read the scent and I was trying to figure out what 'Fester' was.  Then I figured out that it said 'Tester'.   It's a good thing because I was wondering what exactly 'Fester' would smell like and it was not anything good."

Of course, we proceeded to pick up each candle, sniff deeply and proclaim, "Oh, this one is 'Fester'!"  Much to the amusement of the sales lady.  Really, the sales lady in one of these kind of places actually had a sense of humor.  Go figure.

I did take heart in the fact that my sister who is two years younger than I am clearly is also having moments in which she is displaying my Mom's characteristics.  We are both doomed.

posted by: loosestring at 12:28 | link | comments (2) |

The short version

The photos - at least the photos that are suitable for general viewing - from the first annual Girls Gone Wild: Garden Style weekend can be found here.  




The rest of the story will be coming soon.  I am currently too tired to think.

posted by: loosestring at 00:59 | link | comments |

I think, I too, have known autumn too long.

There is something in the air.  I know I am not alone in my frustration with my Photography class.  I went directly to school after work today and spent the entire evening there working on this goddamned testing.  By my side were two other women from the class.  We tried to be brave and upbeat but, when faced with failure upon failure, soon the perky facades crumbled and the bitching started.  I am actually mentally calculating the effect on my grade should I decide to give this whole portion of the program the heave ho.  I am freakishly obsessed with the grades.  It is vital, nay crucial that I receive only A's.  No other letter suits the decorating theme I have chosen for my school transcript.  You know, if I had been half this compulsive when I was younger I might be doing something I enjoy for a living.

I did manage to get quite a bit of work done.  I processed the film that I shot on Saturday.  My son and I made a return visit to lovely Union, IL  to visit the Illinois Railway Museum.  It may not sound glamourous but it is an interesting place to take photos.  They have very artistic piles of old parts and rusty things sitting around that suit some of the photographic assignments.  This was a crucial task that needed to be accomplished in order to insure the success of the impending weekend of Girls Gone Wild: Garden Style.  I am not going to be stuck in the photo lab inhaling chemical fumes while there are Dahlias to be viewed and lectures by snooty-sounding English gardening authors to be heard and food to be eaten and shops to be shopped.

My garden is giving it's last gasp.  The roses are going crazy and the Rose of Sharon is blooming again.  As are the Hibiscus.  The most bizarre thing is the Easter Lilies.  T bought me an Easter Lily at Easter and I stuck it in the ground thinking it would be nice for next year.  To my surprise and delight it is blooming now.  Really going crazy.  I am working on pictures and I will be posting them.  It just seems as thought my flowers are all giving one last burst of color before the frost.  I keep looking around and thinking that it is so beautiful and lush and serene and I just want to freeze this week in time and have my backyard always be so lovely.  I want to build a greenhouse the size of the yard and move my bed in there.  Set up house and wake up with the roses blushing open and the smell of warm grass every morning from now on.

This morning I was awakened by the crashing, hissing, yowling noise that was emanating from our basement.  It took me a moment until I realized that it was Petie knocking the crap out of Martha.  Ah, the blissful tones of a catfight.  When we made the decision to bring Petie to live with us, I had some fears that he might not blend well with T's two male cats.  That the male cats might take advantage of Petie's good nature and gang up on him.  As is often the case I was completely wrong.  For some unknown reason he has taken a strong dislike to Martha.  The very petite and quite stupid little female.  The least intimidating cat in the whole place.  But maybe that is the point.  He is the sweetest natured cat in the world but he is trying to prove his dominance by beating up on the littlest one. 

It would not be that bad and I might be able to deal with it until it ran it's course and a truce was declared but Petie has claimed the basement as his eminent domain.  The other cats are tolerated and allowed to visit the cat boxes and the food dishes but if Martha so much as shows her face there is a war.  Thus, Martha has lost a good deal of weight because we did not realize she was not eating.  And, I noticed a rather offensive odor in my bedroom the other day and discovered that Martha has been peeing on the throw rug in there.  There was much deodorizing and cleaning.  Then we had a discussion.  Petie is being a thug.  As much as I love him I am not okay with Martha being terrorized.  I am even less okay with my bedroom smelling like a subway station.  So, Petie is going back to my Ex Husband #2.  I am sad to see him go but we gave it a fair try.

My bad fortune of not being able to attend the Beck concert tomorrow evening turns out to be my son's good fortune.  He will be going to the show and undoubtedly having a very good time.  I will be suffering in Photography hell.   Motherhood is all about the sacrifices.  Let's just hope that he is not whisked away in some sort of Scientologist Rapture.

posted by: loosestring at 01:20 | link | comments (2) |

I'm standing in the middle of life with my plans behind me

You know that old adage that your Mom might have related to you, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."?  I think that is something I might need to think about having tattooed on some very visible part of my body as a reminder to myself.  Although, I must admit, that I have always been a little more fond of ,"If you don't have anything nice to say about anyone come sit by me."  

Yeah, I am cranky, what else is new?

I am not proud of my bad attitude.  I am actually quite proud of my ability to, more often than not, stop the awful things that I think from actually crossing my lips.  I am generally able to show restraint in spite of how stupid or asinine someone is being.  I am generally able to edit the harsh and unkind - but oh so true - initial thoughts before I utter them.  I have almost sprained my jaw snapping it shut to catch the words before they escape.  I regard these little moments of self control as some of my greatest personal achievements.  But lately the powers of the self edit have been failing me.  Failing me big time.

Rather than take responsibility for my failure I am choosing to blame it on the very unfortunate placement of my class on a Friday evening. It is not me, it is just bad timing.

Back in the days when I was a bartender, there came a point on Saturday night when I had just had my fill of customers.  I had had my fill of conversations about the weather or the sports teams or the debate over wines or martinis.  I could not tolerate the people at the bar or the waiters or the owners or even the bar back.  I was done.  Done talking. Done mixing drinks.  Done listening to godawful music.  Done being polite.  Done.  No more words or noise or sound.  I just wanted everyone to go back to where they came from and leave me in peace.  See, here's the thing, I like people.  But only in small doses.  I need a lot of quiet time.  I need to gather my inner resources and recharge after dealing with people all week long.  I need to sit in front of the television or the computer or take a bath or read a book.  In the quiet.  Or at least in the absence of any noise I do not wish to hear.

So, the Friday night class is killing me.  I usually forget to eat before I go.  So, about the time that the evening has reached it's first difficult moment, my blood sugar begins to bottom out.  When you combine the plummeting blood sugar with my generalized aversion to people, nothing good is going to happen.  The words fly and my mood swings and everything is an insurmountable obstacle.  I do not mean to suggest that absent those two factors I am the picture of cheery good will.  But the mix becomes lethal along about that time.  I have said more awful things and behaved more irrationally in this class than I have in the entirety of the last year.

I resolve to remember to eat before class.  I resolve to turn the self edit up to eleven. I resolve not to leave the class on a Friday evening feeling as though I owe everyone an apology.  I have written it here and therefore I must be accountable. 

In a test of my current Zen attitude about life, I received today notice that I had won tickets to a concert from a local radio station.  I was really excited because I am constantly clicking on some contest or another on the "VIP" website and I never win anything.  Then I opened the email and read that it was tickets to Beck on Wednesday night.  This Wednesday night when I must absolutely without fail be present in my class or else.  So, not only am I conflicted about the whole Beck connection to those wacky Scientologists, but I am not going to be able to go.  I was just putting together the justification that I could go because I was not paying for the tickets and therefore not contributing to the cause when I read the date.  Confound the gods as they have yet another laugh at my expense.  This whole being responsible thing is not what they showed me in the training videos.

On a more positive note, I am expecting a visit from my lovely sister.  She will be arriving in our fair town on Thursday night and we will be partying like rockstars all weekend.  Okay, partying like rockstars who enjoy gardening and attending Dahlia shows and lectures by gardening authors and overnight fleamarkets.  Maybe those are not rockstars.  Maybe jingle singers or church choir members.  But we are rockstars in our hearts and that is what counts.

This visit bears many striking differences from my sister's first visit to Chicago fifteen years ago.  That visit included the highlights of a fistfight in a heavy metal club, much drinking and a drunken tour of Rush Street.  That tour ended with me threatening the bartender at Mother's with bodily harm and the pleasure of cleaning my car if he served my sister one more drink.  Not that I was the picture of perfect sobriety that evening.  I ended up driving the wrong way down Ohio Street trying to get to the expressway.  Right in front of a cop.  I was sure I was toast and I was going to be spending the evening as a guest of the Cook County Jail.  I started to tear up and I rolled down my window and timidly asked the cop what I should do.  Very deliberately he answered over his loudspeaker, "Turn.  Around." 

Only in Chicago.

posted by: loosestring at 23:44 | link | comments (4) |

This is your last warning...

Another stunning moment in which I channel my mom:

On the drive home today I noted a large group of tents set up on the big softball fields north of town.  I was curious but I figured there was some school thing going on or maybe a church thing.  As I drove further, I noticed large groups of women and men walking along the street. 

Hmmm.  That's right I heard something about this on the radio this morning.  There is a walk from St. Charles, IL  ending in Chicago, IL .  What was that for?

I turn onto Main Street and end up behind a white van with writing all over the windows.  The largest slogan being on the back window right in front of my face:  Honk if you love boobs!

I think for a moment - a longer moment than I am comfortable admitting - until it dawns on me that it is the Breast Cancer Three Day.

In one day I have displayed tendencies that I attribute to my grandmother and my mother.   I am doomed.

posted by: loosestring at 16:39 | link | comments |

We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when

Some days technology is not my friend.  I somehow just deleted quite a lengthy post about our trip to the veterinarian orthopedic specialist last night.  Perhaps the computer is critical of my writing.  Perhaps the computer has just saved you from having to read a long and very involved account of someone else's pet that you might not find nearly as interesting as the author does.  Hmmm.  I will take this as a cosmic sign that the story does not merit a recap beyond the following:

Maggie (our girl mini dachshund) has been limping.  We were referred to a specialist.  The specialist made us wait a very long time with two very nervous dogs.  Ernie (Maggie's brother) pooped on the floor and generally made a nuisance of himself instead of providing the moral support he was supposed to.  The good news is that they are not recommending surgery.  The bad news is that she will have to go in for a procedure that involves general anesthesia. 

(Shameless excuse to post a picture of the puppy)

In other news, it is Fall.  Definite nip in the air and it has been grey and chilly and gloomy.  I am trying to put my annual Fall funk aside.  I am trying not to think that what follows this is a period of increasingly chilly weather followed by more cold ass weather followed by gloomy, dark days.  I am trying to be positive but I am just not a sunshiney kind of gal.  I am not fond of the cold and gloom.  I need sunshine.  Lots of sunshine and green, growing things to keep me mentally balanced.  I am so happy in the warm sunny weather that I do not mind humidity or sunburn or any of the downsides of Summer.  I need to move to a state that has less than four seasons. 

It is official.  I have become my Grandma.  I will discuss the impending Fall and the weather.  I will discuss the Daylight Savings change and how much I hate it.  I will soon be washing plasic bags and re-using them or saving tinfoil for a second use.  Good Lord, I will skip right over middle age and proceed directly to the retirement home.  Ah.  There's an idea.  Maybe a home in a retirement village down in Florida.  Ideal.  Now, if I could just learn to play Mah-jonng and drink Manhattans.  Old guys always have kind of liked me.  I would be set.  I could dye my hair grey and I would be a hit.

On a more positive note, the radio station I listen to is featuring David Bowie today.  And they are not just sticking to China Girl or any of the stuff that makes me want to pull my ears off.  I heard "The Man Who Sold the World" this morning on my way in.  It's a small thing, but I will take what I can get.

posted by: loosestring at 13:23 | link | comments (3) |

Old Yeller still makes me cry like a baby

I have a little story and I am not sure where I am going with it but bear with me here.

A person I know has a dog that he has had for many years.  The dog is 10 and I believe he got him as a puppy.  The dog is a really nice Boxer.  Really pretty dog and by all accounts a good pet.  About six months ago the dog had a large cyst removed and it was determined to be cancerous.  The vet said it was almost a sure thing that it would come back.  Today this person walks in and starts a story with, "Of course I just paid to have the invisible fence installed at the new house and I was playing with the dog last night and he has a new cyst.  We spent $500 to get the last one removed and I am just not going to do that again.  I am going to have to have him put down.  But now I am out all of the money for the invisible fence."

It took my brain a minute to adjust.  This person is generally a bit more detached than I am.  I always have to take a step back from the more emotionallly charged issues and adjust my perspective to his.  I am a little less practical in matters involving people and death and birth and living.  I am not prone to immediately think in terms of dollars and cents and return on investment.  This is one of the biggest differences between our personalities.  It is, however, not insurmountable.  I just have to try to back all of my emotional responses out of the equation to interact with him. 

My first "out loud" response was, "Oh, that's too bad.  You guys have had that dog for a long time. If you decided to have him  put to sleep don't you think you would get another dog eventually?"   That seemed like the appropriate response.  I did not react with the statement that immediately came to my mind which was, "Jesus, you guys have enough money to have the dog treated and he is not that old.  I would do whatever I could to make my dog or cat better.  I would have to be told that there was no hope or no treatment or that the cat or dog was in an extraordinary amount of pain that could not be relieved before I would even consider having him or her put to sleep." 

It is good that I have worked out a time delay for my responses.  I stop and say the words in my head before I say them out loud.  It saves me a lot of headaches.  My first response is so often not the most appropriate one.

This person basically responded by immediately switching gears to talking about adopting a Greyhound.  Immediately.  I mentioned that there are Greyhound rescues in almost every state and he might want to check them out.  I suggested that the invisible fence might not be considered "acceptable" to some of these agencies.  It became a whole Internet research project. 

Call me an old softie but this is inconceivable to me.  I have two dachshunds and they are like family.  Better than family because they love me and I love them and there is never any argument.  I also have five cats.  One of those cats receives twice daily insulin injections for diabetes.  T administers the shots but I agree that we should do so.  I would overcome my squeamishness about sticking a needle in someone should the need arise.  Maggie our girl dachshund has a shoulder injury of some sort.  We have been for X-rays and given her anti-inflammatories daily.  We are going to talk with an orthopedic specialist vet this evening to talk about what needs to be done to fix it.  This may involve surgery.  If that is the case, she will have surgery.  I could not think of not having her treated.  Should one of the troop have to be put to sleep I do not picture myself researching a replacement before they were even gone.

Some of the most wrenching stories about the hurricane rescues were the ones involving people who had been forced to leave behind pets to fend for themselves.  I cannot fathom making that choice.  I cannot imagine walking away and leaving behind one of our pets.  I think I would still be sitting on a roof in Louisiana with my dogs.  (I know you can never know what you would do until you are in the situation.)

I guess my point, if I indeed have a point, is this: I cannot imagine anyone feeling differently about their pets than I do.  I am not judging but the first things that come to mind are judgemental.  It always interests me to get a look into how someone else's mind works.  And how it works differently from mine.  MIne being, of course, the standard by which such things should be measured.

posted by: loosestring at 12:50 | link | comments (1) |

Another case of words that melt, it's not a question of right

I have never thought of myself as a particularly logical person.  I have held a picture in my mind of being somewhat flighty or dreamy.  I enjoy fiction.  I think about Astrology and parts of it make sense to me.  I love nature and magic and mystery.  I want world peace and universal love and I am an idealist.  I hate believing the worst about people without strong supporting evidence.  I thought OJ was innocent until he got in that Bronco.  I thought Michael Jackson was innocent until he paid off that little boy. 

I have realized lately that the source of much of my anxiety is not knowing or not understanding.  When I am confronted by something that does not make sense to me I begin to analyze it.  If someone acts a certain way or says a certain hurtful or unkind or thoughtless thing, I am hurt but the only thing that makes the hurt go away is figuring out why.  I have to make sense of it. I have to crawl inside the person's head and poke around and come up with theories and hypotheses.  I have to give a free reign to conjecture.  I gotta know what made it happen.  I have to find the reason.

When my life is chaotic - and not because I married a white trash back up dancer - I need to understand from whence the chaos originates, how long it plans on sticking around, what attracted it to me in particular and what motivates it.  If I can put a definition to it - if I can classify it or categorize it -  then it is manageable.  Surviveable.  Bearable.  But the most important thing is the reason.  It is the only thing that gives me comfort and it is the thing that makes me the very most neurotic of all.  Because, if I cannot find an explanation, then I cannot rest.  There will be no comfort.  The hurt is bound to linger.

Maybe this is not logic.  Maybe it is just a bundle of neuroses and certifiable behaviours.  Maybe it is a part of the OCD.  Maybe it has no reason and I am just as whacked out crazy as I fear I am.  Everything must be defined.  To believe that there is no definition is to court madness.  Because, to every thing there is a purpose and a reason.  There is a song about it and they wrote it down in the Bible so it must be true. 

I have an annoying habit that has been pointed out to me.  It is this: when someone begins to relate to me a story of hurt or sorrow or frustration or anger I am compelled to give them reasons it might be happening.  Motivations and alternate theories and more of those damned hypotheses.  Mostly they just want to hear that the person who has hurt them or angered them is being an asshole.  I want to explain to them possible reasons for the asshole's asshole-ishness.  I want to make them see that they are not a bad person or deserving of the sleight.  I want to give them the thing that gives me comfort: a reason. 

One of the things that I have thought about in relation to this is how uncomfortable I am with waiting.  If I know there is a present in the house there will be no peace until I have opened it.  If there is an upcoming event or occasion to which I am looking forward I will be jumpy and anxious and jittery until the date arrives.  If there is an answer I am awaiting I need it now.  If there is anything pending, unresolved or unanswered I am going to be unhappy.  I do not like to wait to know what is going to happen. 

I read and I love fiction. I know that I only have to wait as long as it takes to read the book to find out what happens.   I love books that are unpredictable or have ambiguous endings but I do not have a personal objection to the occasional predictable ending.  Sometimes a nice tidy, "...and they all lived happily ever after." suits me.  I think the thing I like most about books is that they are contained.  The story in it's entirety lies mostly between the covers.  There is a beginning, a middle and an end.  You always have some idea how it all turns out.  Or at least the conflict of the moment is resolved.  I like resolution.  I like knowing. 

I have begun to think that the thing that makes me the most uncomfortable about living is not knowing how it all turns out.  I do not know how this story plays out.  And I probably never will.  That is just fodder for my neurotic obssessing.  It is the kind of thing that keeps me awake and restless.

I do not know how you make peace with this kind of thing.  I suppose this is a part of the attraction of religion.  The whole idea of faith.  There is a plan and it is not important for me to know the reason because the big guy is calling the shots.  I am but a player in his masterpiece.  Ours is not to reason why.

But I don't think that this sort of platitude is going to work for me.  I have to have an explanation.  The world needs to make sense.  I need things to be logical.  This damned life thing keeps getting so messy and there are the loose ends and the unfinished business.  People are unpredictable and sometimes nothing makes any sense at all.  Nothing is the way it should be. 

If I was reading this story I would send the author my copy with an awful lot of blue pencil markings.

posted by: loosestring at 01:04 | link | comments (3) |

Another source of instant gratification

I have just availed myself of a fabulous new service that is being offerred through Walgreen's Pharmacy: online print ordering.  You upload your images to their website and then you can order prints or enlargements and then pick them up when they are done.  I ordered some test prints at 10:30 and they were ready to be picked up in under an hour.  The print quality was good.  I ordered some standard prints and some enlargements and they were all good.  I am so excited.  If they would just deliver them to me it would be perfect.  Actually, you can have them mailed to you, but I am always too impatient to wait for anything. 

I am working on a plan whereby I never have to leave my home or interact with any other human beings but it is still in it's infancy.

posted by: loosestring at 00:00 | link | comments |

God damn you Mr. Stewart

I am a little bit miffed at Jon Stewart.  Tonight his guest was one of my all time favorite authors: Kurt Vonnegut.  Instead of giving him two segments of the show in which to be interviewed, they only allowed for one short segment.  It was abundantly apparent that he had lots more to say and they just cut him off.  I am officially pouting.  The short bit of time that they did spend with him was fabulous and the rest of the show was hysterical but I am still pouting.

posted by: loosestring at 23:53 | link | comments |

Tell me of the rainbows, the colors that the rain throws

I have all of these little bits of information and ideas rolling around in my head.  None of them stands alone as an entire entry but as a completely disjointed list they might work:

1. I am obsessed with "GoldDigger" by Kanye West.  This is my current completely inappropriate musical love.  Inappropriate in that I am a middle-class white woman.  Not the target audience.  But this song is so good that I downloaded it from ITunes.  Then, after listening to it over and over for the last several days, I downloaded the rest of the album.  I am liking it so far but I have not been listening too long.  I think he has managed to do some very interesting things with the music and the samples and it is nice to listen to.  One note: do not bother with the edited version of "GoldDigger" it is mostly one long bleep.  Not that the language is that strong in the explicit version.  They just edit the crap out of the chorus.  And what is the point of that?

2. I have decided that the people who select soundtrack music for tv shows can be artists.  There are some noteable exceptions to the rule but then again there is "Crossing Jordan".  It is an okay show but I think that it has possibly some of the best soundtrack choices ever.  I think I like this show mostly because of the music.  And a little bit for Miguel Ferrer.  The show that brought this thought to mind, however,  was "Weeds".  If you have not heard of it, it is a new show on Showtime about a widowed suburban drug dealing mom.  Sounds a bit weird in the premise but the show is pretty good.  The main character is played by Mary Louise Parker and she is perfect.  It also has Kevin Nealon and Elizabeth Perkins.  Last night's show has a really lovely little scene, sort of a flashback, and the background song was "Ballerina" by Leona Naess.  It was perfect.  I did not know the song until I looked it up on the website.  I was not even familiar with Leona Naess.  But now I have downloaded some of her music off ITunes and I am mixing it with the Kanye West.  It is a strange mix, to be sure, but I like strange.

3. I am in a weird, restless place as far as reading goes right now.  I started to read "The Brothers K" which I thought I would like.  It has a weird premise. I like weird.  It is a re-telling of "The Brothers Karamazov" set in modern times with a baseball theme running through it.  I am not enjoying it so much.  Could be temporary.  Sometimes I start a book and think I do not like it and then I pick it up again later and I finish it and think it is fabulous.  I have set it aside for now and picked up "The Jane Austen Book Club" which suffered the same fate several months ago.  It was one of those books that was wildly praised and which I should have liked a great deal but I could just never find my rhythm.  I am liking it slightly more during this reading but I am not engrossed.  I just finished "The Time Traveler's Wife"  which I loved.  I kept shuffling it to the bottom of the reading pile because the subject seemed a little heavy and I was not in the mood for heavy.  But, when I finally decided to read it, I powered through.  It is an interesting read and I liked the way it was written.

4.  Last night I had leftovers for dinner.  Nothing exciting but an okay meal.  But afterward I was still kind of hungry and craving the chocolate and trying to decide if ice cream was a good idea.  I mean, I know ice cream is always a good idea but was it a good nutritional choice for me at that moment?  T solved my problem by suggesting a Peanut Buster Parfait.  This is why I love him.  It was exactly what I wanted and I did not know it.

posted by: loosestring at 12:59 | link | comments |

The sweet blameless sleep of the self-righteous

I am sitting here in front of the screen of this damned computer and I am trying to put together semi-coherent thoughts or resurrect an amusing anecdote and I am at a loss.  This weekend was spent in the company of many people.  Nice people to be sure.  But lots and lots of extended periods of interaction with mankind.  I need a little decompression time.

We participated in the Great Neighbourhood Garage Sale.  Several of our neighbours joined forces to sell off all of our unwanted junk.  To be honest, T did the lion's share of the work.  He stayed home on Friday and was the sole proprietor.  On Saturday I woke up at 10:30 am and realized that the garage sale was supposed to open at 9:00 am.  I slapped some water on my face and grabbed a cold Diet Pepsi (my preferred morning beverage) and went out into the scorching heat to join T.  He had set up everything and was merrily doing business.  I did a little merchandising so that people would not have to dig through boxes to find things and then I took up residence in a lawn chair.  We were joined by Ex-Husband #2 and my stepson and T's brother.  I am unclear as to why we would require so many assistants but the company was greatly appreciated.  Actually, having so many people around allowed us to take breaks and go into the lovely air-conditioned house from time to time.

The whole day was repeated on Sunday - including my late rising - but we decided to throw a little barbeque to finish out the weekend.  The neighbours joined us for brats and potato salad.

The end result of the sale was that we made a goodly chunk of change.  We got rid of a ton of stuff and anything that did not sell is going to charity.  I believe that some day soon we will be able to walk into our garage and actually see what is in there rather than having to stand just inside the door and peer around in the hopes of glimpsing the thing we are seeking.  Once the last of the stuff goes to the AmVets we will be well on our way.

Friday night I had class.  I am not a really big fan of my teacher.  I got there early because I was unable to get everything done the last class.  I wanted to make sure that I was able to complete everything to do with testing as soon as possible because I am ready to start shooting pictures.  I processed the film from the testing all by myself for the first time.  Everything went quite smoothly.  I was pretty pleased with myself but ever-mindful of the doom that swiftly follows smugness. Actually, it was kind of cool to be in the large developing room.  It is completely dark and I had my IPod so I was dancing and just goofing around.  I think sensory deprivation would be okay for me as long as I had music.  And maybe if I could do my spazzy dance.

I finished up just as the teacher was arriving and she was quite surpised to see me there and more surprised to hear that I had processed the film all by myself.  (I believe that she thinks I am a little slow) She asked to see my work and sort of screwed up her face and said, "I don't know it doen't quite look right."  I was disappointed because if it was not right I would have to do the whole boring test over again.  But she said to wait until it dried and then we would know for sure.  Of course, she then decided that it could not possibly be giving me the results that it was giving me and that I would have to it all over. I must have done something wrong.

I was just a mess at that point.  A Friday night class is not a good idea.  I am too worn out and frazzled to be patient.  I stomped off to the film loading room to reload film.  I actually got a little teary while I was in there.  I am not normally a cry baby but when I get frustrated or mad and I am not able to scream about it I always end up weepy.  So, I had myself a little cry and then I went back to work.  I re-shot all of the film and developed it and .........the results came out exactly the same.  The gloating and the certain sense of self-righteousness was just the balm my soul needed at that point.  I was mad that I had to do it over but happy to have proved the teacher wrong.  Maybe next time she will not be so quick to discount my ability.  I think I may ride this gloat a long way.

posted by: loosestring at 21:40 | link | comments |

Secret Pal ^

I am participating in Secret Pal 6 and I need to post this questionarre.  Please skip it if you are not interested in my knitting preferences.  I will post something for the rest of you shortly.  This weekend was the yard sale and I spent all day putting the button for the Secret Pal thing in my blog (thank you Howard).

1. Are you a yarn snob (do you prefer higher quality and/or natural fibers)? Do you avoid Red Heart and Lion Brand? Or is it all the same to you?

I am fond of the more natural fibers but the main thing is that I like softer yarns.  I find that a lot of the acrylics are kind of scratchy but there are some great soft acrylics. 

2. Do you spin? Crochet?

.No spinning and hardly any crocheting.  I know how to crochet but I have not done any in a million years.

3. Do you have any allergies? (smoke, pets, fibers, perfume, etc.)

None.

4. How long have you been knitting?

I learned to knit when I was really young and then picked it up again this year.

5. Do you have an Amazon or other online wish list?

No. I am always a little overwhelmed by all of the items and I get stuck trying to pick the things I would like.

6. What's your favorite scent? (for candles, bath products etc.)

I like citrusy or single florals like lavender.

7. Do you have a sweet tooth?

I like chocolate.  And ice cream.  Lots of ice cream.  I suppose mailing ice cream would be a difficult thing.

8. What other crafts or Do-It-Yourself things do you like to do?

I do a lot of different things.  I make jewelry and cards and I take photos.

9. What kind of music do you like? Can your computer/stereo play MP3s? (if your buddy wants to make you a CD)

I like a lot of different music but not a lot of popular music.  I hate Coldplay with a passion. No Britney or any of those other girls.  My favorite genre would probably be AltCountry.

10. What's your favorite color? Or--do you have a color family/season/palette you prefer? Any colors you just can't stand?

I like all colors although I am not a big fan of bubblegum pinks or anything too cutesy.

11. What is your family situation? Do you have any pets?

I am living in sin with my boyfriend.  I have a 17 yr old son.  We have 2 miniature dachshunds and 5 cats.

12. What are your life dreams? (really stretching it here, I know)

I am currently working on a degree with a focus on Photography.  I hope to finish it before I am ready to retire.  I am working on world peace and a cure for cancer.

13. What is/are your favorite yarn/s to knit with?

I don’t have a particular favorite but I am fond of nubbly or variegated yarns.

14. What fibers do you absolutely *not* like?

Not a big fan of the eyelash or “fun” yarns.

15. What is/are your current knitting obsession/s?

I am doing a lot of scarves – kinda boring – and I am trying to teach myself hats and socks.

16. What is/are your favorite item/s to knit?

No favorites, I am not a very advanced knitter.

17. What are you knitting right now?

A scarf.

18. What do you think about ponchos?

Neutral but they can be fun.  I don’t know if I would wear one though.

19. Do you prefer straight or circular needles?

Not enough experience to have a preference.

20. Bamboo, aluminum, plastic?

I use aluminum needles.

21. Are you a sock knitter?

I am trying to learn.

22. How did you learn to knit?

A grade school teacher taught me.  My Mom could not teach me these kinds of things because she is a lefty.  She is really good at crocheting and knitting, my loss.

23. How old is your oldest UFO?

Less than 3 months.

24. What is your favorite animated character or a favorite animal/bird?

Not a big animated character fan.  I like cats and butterflies.

25. What is your favorite holiday?

Tie between Easter and Halloween.

26. Is there anything that you collect?

I collect Day of the Dead stuff.

27. What knitting magazine subscriptions do you have?

None

28. Any books out there you are dying to get your hands on?

None that I know of.

29. Any patterns you have been coveting, but haven't bought for one reason or another??

Again, none that I know of, but I am open to suggestion.

posted by: loosestring at 21:13 | link | comments (2) |

St. George's lesser known cousin

T is in the habit of reading a lot of what seems to me very dry non-fiction.  He is very interested in History and Math and Baseball.  With the exception of the History, I would generally not read these types of books.  Most of the History books he reads are on obscure (to me) topics, so I probably would not read them either.  I am interested in a lot of things. I have tiny bits of knowledge about a million different topics.  You know, just enough to be dangerous.  But I usually read fiction.  I like novels.  I like stories.  I read because I want to be away from the world and escape.  I read to focus my mind on something besides myself.  I read constantly.

I often take note of what T is reading.  In a passing way.  Not because I would ever discuss the subjects.  Not because I would ever read the books.  Just in my continuing anthropological study of the geek in captivity.  I am working on the definitive reference guide.  I noticed a couple of weeks ago that he had a book about "sea dragons".  It struck me funny.  I think it was about some form of dinosaur or some prehistoric beast of some sort but it was just the term "sea dragon"  that seemed kind of goofy.  I made some smart ass comment or other and T shrugged and smiled in his usual good-natured manner.  I noticed the book again a few more times as he progressed through it and it made me smile.  I like to think that someone writes this type of book in the hopes that someone will be interested enough to buy it and it is good to know that our household is keeping the industry viable for this group of writers.  I may not contribute directly but I benefit due to the amusement factor.

Earlier this week I noticed that T was reading yet another book.  Topic: "sea dragons".  I am highly amused at his expense, naturally.  I can see there being one book about this relatively obscure topic but you would think that that one book would pretty well exhaust the subject.  You would think, but of course you would be wrong.  I can't really see the need for more than one book about "sea dragons".  I don't really have to see the need but it is just this type of thing that sets my mind to working.  I think about it.

I have decided that T is studying to be a "sea dragon slayer".  Should you ever have need for such a service please contact me.

posted by: loosestring at 11:09 | link | comments (2) |

Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares

The other day I wrote a little thing about how I wanted all of the finger pointing and blame and all-Katrina-all-the-time reporting to stop.  Mostly I wanted it to stop because my head is tired and my heart is too achy and I just personally cannot take another smarmy sound bite from Bush or Cheney or another tale about all of the animals that have been stranded or the babies being raped or the dead bodies lying in the streets or the million and one other horrific things that pass across the computer screen and the television screen.  I know it really cannot stop.  It can't because someone has to hear.  Someone has to be held accountable.  Someone has to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again.

My heart and the little shiny bit of optimism that I protect and hold so dear have taken a beating over the last week or so.  I truly never wanted to believe that the people in power were so callous and corrupt and unfeeling.  I truly wanted to believe that all people are basically good and that all people care about other people.  I know that is naive. I know that is unrealistic.  But I have to have some tiny bit of hope to cling to when things start to seem like they are going the wrong way.  I have to believe that no one in this country would ever wish to see harm befall another American citizen.  I have to believe that we have a national conscience that would never allow horrible things to happen to our countrymen while the government stands idly by.

I can't function.  I can't get up every day and go to work and do all of the mundane things that I do in that world.  I get stuck.  I get mired down in the anger and the fear.  I worry.  I obsess.  I lose sleep.  I am lost.

So, I don't want to hear about the awfulness and the degradation and the deprivation.  This is my selfish response.  I am sure that the people of New Orleans don't want to live the awfulness and the degradation and the deprivation.  No one would ever want to live through those things.  This whole mess makes me uncomfortable.  It makes me sad.  It makes me cry and rage.  It should. 

Please keep telling the stories and asking the questions and reporting the truth.  Please make sure that someone hears.  Please make sure that Joe and Norma in Iowa know that what happened was wrong.  What happened was preventable.  What happened was a tragedy.  Not a just retribution or an unavoidable disaster.  Please shout it from the rooftops if necessary.   These people did not get what they deserved.  They got very far from what they deserve from the government.  They have been treated horribly.  Someone needs to be accountable.  Someone needs to make this right.

I need to step back a little and take this in small monitored doses for my own sanity.  I'll be the one in the corner alternately shrieking and whimpering. Please know that I am with you in spirit.

posted by: loosestring at 23:36 | link | comments |

Another myth debunked

Okay, something has been bothering me - this will come as no surprise to most of you because something is almost always bothering me but try to hold the sarcastic, mock gasps to a minimum you assholes - it is this: all of the talk about the lazy people on Welfare and the high life they are living on the public dime.  This has been especially high on the list of excuses for why those people in New Orleans are not deserving of help.  I am really sad to see that this myth from the Reagan era is still so popular in this day and age.  People we have come so far.  We have stamped out acid wash jeans and huge hair and shoulder pads.  It is time to let this one go as well.

This is what I know.

When my son was very young his father and I had a very rocky relationship.  There was some physical abuse and a lot of verbal abuse and it was not a really healthy environment in which to raise a child.  I made the decision to leave.  I loaded up all of my belongings into a UHaul trailer and hitched it to my Ford Escort and drove myself back to Massachusetts where my Mom was living.  My son and I  moved in and I began to look for work.

I was quite used to the employment atmosphere of the Chicago area where jobs were plentiful and mine for the asking.  I applied and interviewed and got nothing.  I was used to being offerred the job in the interview.  I was used to being employed.  I was used to taking care of myself.  But now I was parked in my Mom's apartment with a little baby and no money.  My Mom helped out and bought food and diapers and kept us housed but as the time stretched out this began to be too much for her. The added expense of an infant was really putting a strain on her financially.  I was still interviewing but nothing was happening.  There was no end in sight. So, I made the decision that I would have to apply for Welfare.

This came as a bit of a shock to me.  Not a shock in that it was sudden but in that I had never before imagined that I would have the need for Welfare.  I did not fit the stereotype.

I went down to the Welfare Offices and started the application process.  I had to bring along my toddler and corral him while I answered a million and one questions.  I had to fill out dozens of forms.  I had to return to the waiting room multiple times to wait for the next interviewer.  I sat in a room with dozens of other young mothers with small children.  The room was filled with a kind of resigned air of defeat.  The women there looked the way I felt.    Eventually, I got to the last interview and I was informed just what I could expect to receive in the way of assistance.  I was going to be able to buy food and diapers and have a little money for the necessities. I was going to have Medicare benefits so that if my son got one of his chronic ear infections I would not have to prostitute myself to pay for the Amoxicillin.   I was not going to have to ask my Mom for anymore help in that area.  I was going to be able to breath a little easier.

Some things I was not going to be able to do: buy a mink coat or a Cadillac, take a trip to the Bahamas, wash my delicate underthings in Cristal Champagne or have my name spelled out in diamonds on my new Gucci purse.

I found out later that I was "fortunate" to have been living in Massachusetts at the time.  It was one of the states that had a fairly generous Welfare System.  They encouraged people on Welfare to educate themselves and prepare themselves to have the means to get off Welfare.  They offerred to pay for schooling or job training and child care while you were schooling.  They offerred to pay for child care while you looked for work if you already had skills.  Women with children under school age cannot be required to work outside the home but if you chose to do so they were going to assist you with subsidized child care and continued Medicare benefits until you had medical benefits through your employer. 

I was lucky enough to find a job very shortly after I applied for Welfare.  I was not kicked out of the program but instead I was given the aforementioned assistance to make working a viable option.  I was given a helping hand to take control of my life.  I was encouraged to take care of myself but did not have the support structure removed completely until there was evidence that I was able to do so.  I feel that this is the best possible way to run a Welfare Program.  What encouragement does a person have to get off of Welfare if as soon as they are employed they immediately lose all support?  What happens if the job falls through?  What happens if your child gets sick and you don't have healthcare benefits because they are not offerred or the waiting period for enrollment is not up yet?  What hope does a person have that has no opportunity for education or training? 

I think hard work is important.  I think people need to take care of themselves but how do you pay for childcare and rent and utilities on a minimum wage job?  I understand the argument that many times the situations in which people find themselves are a result of poor choices or planning.  Does that mean that they are not deserving of help?  Does that mean that their children should suffer as a result? 

I am here to tell you that Welfare was no party.  There was not a secret group of Welfare mothers sitting around in mink coats snickering about the success of their scam.  There were not luxurious spa retreats and festive orgies.  Or maybe I just wasn't invited. 

posted by: loosestring at 12:35 | link | comments (1) |

Half of me is ocean, Half of me is sky

Somedays are just filled with little bits of crap that add up to a big stinking pile.  How's that for an image?  Pretty words, pretty thoughts, pretty me.  Ah well, this is where my mind goes - right into the toilet.  When the going gets bumpy you can count on an excrement metaphor from me.

I had school today.  I was originally supposed to take a class on Wednesday and Friday evenings (Photography) and a class on Saturday mornings (Graphic Arts).  This was the plan.  Then they cancelled the Graphic Arts class on Saturday due to low enrollment.  It is a foundation class.  One that you have to take as a prerequisite for any of the Graphic Arts classes.  They called me to let me know that they were cancelling and to offer to enroll me in a different session of the class that was scheduled on Monday and Wednesday from 3:00pm - 5:40pm.  This posed no conflct with my other class but there was a little bit of a hitch.  I work until 4:00pm Monday - Friday.  Unless I was planning on firing up the Wayback Machine every Monday and Wednesday, I would have to leave early to attend the class.

This does not seem like such a big deal until you stop to consider that I rarely ever work a full 40 hour week and yet I am paid for a 40 hour week.  I average about 32 hours a week.  My boss is okay with that.  He understands that there is not 40 hours of work for me to do.  He understands that I will be there every day and I will get all of my work done.  He can count on me.  And I can tolerate his crappy personality.  He acknowledges that he is a difficult person to work for.  It is an okay arrangement for me because there is little or no stress and the pay is pretty good.  I have a lot of mental energy to give to my school work because I am not sucked dry by my job.  If my boss goes out of town or has vacation or a meeting, I can be left in charge and he knows that things will be taken care of properly in his absence. 

Because of the already lenient schedule, I am hesitant to ask for more time off, especially on a recurring basis.  But, what the hell, I asked.  And he said he would try to accomodate my class as much as possible.  I talked to the teacher and explained the situation to him and he assured me that he would try to accomodate my being late for class on some occasions.  Of course, this means that I go directly from work to class and then to my next class on Wednesday.  It is a tight but workable schedule and I am trying to plan ahead and arrange my homework and my books and supplies so that it works as smoothly as possible. 

Last night I carefully put together my school bags.  A separate bag for each class with all of  the notebooks and supplies and pencils and pens for each bag.  I went through the syllabus and made sure that I had gotten all of the required items and books.  I was feeling a bit pleased with myself for organizing this part of my life so well.  I awoke this morning and gathered my things for work and put my school bags in my car and I went off for a full day of work and learning.  Filled with the confidence that I was prepared and being prepared is half the battle.  Right?

I left work a few minutes later than I had hoped but I felt confident that I could reach my class in time.  I was organized.  The Universe would not dare to mess with my organization.  I slid into my seat at 3:04pm and immediately began to take notes.  I had not missed much and I was soon up to speed. So far so good.  As I took a sip from the Diet Pepsi that I had remembered to bring knowing that I would have no time to stop for a drink,  I savored the blissful peace that only the truly organized and prepared can fully appreciate.  I studiously continued to take notes, thorough notes that will be of great help for studying.  I was really interested in the information.  This is all new stuff for me but I have some experience and contact with a lot of the processes.  It was bringing a lot of bits and pieces of kowledge that I have picked up over the years together into a complete picture.

All during the lecture, I kept having this nagging feeling.  Something was familiar and there was a little deja vu thing going on.  I could not put my finger on it for a while and then I realized that the instructor seemed really familiar.  Like maybe I knew him from somewhere.  Or maybe he just reminded me of someone.  This happens pretty frequently.  I bartended and waited tables for quite awhile so I know a lot of people that way.  I have had a lot of different jobs so I know a lot of people that way.  I am fairly outgoing so I know a lot of people that way. Sometimes it takes me a while to connect the name and the face and the circumstances under which I know a person.  This was really nagging me though.  It was kind of intruding on my attention to the lecture.  Then I realized.  I think he turned a certain way or made a gesture or something and I realized what was so familiar.  This man looks so much like my father when he was younger that it is uncanny.  Like my Dad from when I was a teenager.  The only thing that keeps it from being a complete match is that my father had a kind of deep, sort of booming voice and this guy sounds more like Richard Dreyfuss.  Once I made the connection, my attention was shot.  I kept feeling just on the verge of weepy and I was trying to not look at him and just take notes but that did not work very well.  I was just very thrown by the resemblance and it caught me off guard.  Mercifully, the class was soon over.  But I left feeling a bit strange.

I decided to forge ahead and not give into the bad feelings.  I went straight to my other class and tried to get a jump on the work.  I will not go into the specifics of the testing and the calibrating and the minutiae of what we are currently studying in Photography.  Suffice it to say that there is Math involved and my head repels Math and anything related to numbers.  This is the semi-boring part of the class but we are learning to use large format cameras - think of the big, accordion looking cameras on a tripod with a blanket over the photographer's head - and that is a cool thing.  Of course, those cameras require a different film and that film needs to be loaded by hand into special carriers that are inserted into the camera for exposure.  I knew we would be working with those cameras today so I decided to load some film so I would be prepared.  Ah, blessed preparedness.  I would be so freaking prepared that the teacher would be amazed.  She would point to me and ask me to please rise and share my superior preparatory skills with the rest of the class.  The sun would shine and the birds would sing and I would once again be the special favorite student. 

Off I went to the dark film-loading closet.  All of this film handling must be done in complete dark.  I am used to the dark but I have not loaded this type of film before.  I decide to try loading one carrier and then I will make sure I have done it properly before attempting another.  I close the door and turn off the lights.  I open the box of film and I take out the sheets and manage to load them into the carrier with only minimal fumbling.  I am pretty pleased with myself.  I double check the carrier to make sure it is sealed properly and then I flip on the light to check it out.  Sure enough, I have done it.  Absolutely right on the first try.  Boy, I am pretty good.  This class is going to be a breeze.  I am filled with self-congratulatory smugness as I turn back to the counter and spot my box of film.  Still open.  Wide open.  On the counter where I left it in the dark.  But now the lights are on.  And there is my film.  In the light.  Ruined.

Of course, this film is more expensive than standard 35mm film.  Of course, exposing film to light is a sure way to make it unusable.  Of course, I have to have seven sheets of film for my class this very evening.  My class that starts in 20 minutes.  And the realization begins to dawn on me: I am dumb sometimes and whenever I feel a bit smug I need to check myself for impending disaster.

Luckily, there is a lovely photo shop quite close to school and I managed to make it there and back in 20 minutes.  Crisis averted.  Embarassed  at having been such a smug jackass.

posted by: loosestring at 01:06 | link | comments (1) |

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity

I have tried people, I have tried valiantly to limit my exposure to the overblown and exploitative coverage of the situation in New Orleans.  I have tried to take the high road and back down slowly of my soapbox realizing that my anger and frustration at this colossal mess are doing nothing to help.  I have tried to get my head to believe that people are good and that they want to help.  That at a time such as this politics would be the last thought.  That in times of national tragedy we pull together and set aside our political agendas and get on with the business of making things right.  That a tragedy of this magnitude would be an automatic trigger for empathy and compassion. 

I read the papers and watch the tv and I keep seeing reports that are meant to focus on the negative or the exception to the rule.  I am sure that there are people who viewed this as an opportunity to make a buck or commit a crime with little fear of repercussion.  I am equally sure that for every one person who was inclined to exploit the chaos for their own gain that there were fifty people who were living their lives and got caught in the middle of the worst nightmare they could imagine.  It is a fact that the majority of people who were stranded or caught by the flood in New Orleans were poor and had no means to escape.  They did not have anywhere to go.  They could not fly away or drive away or move away.  They chose to hunker down and try to ride out the storm.  It was a bad decision but it was the only choice they had. 

Throughout this reporting there is a small vein of positive.  People who helped.  People who thought they had lost loved ones only to find that they had not.  People who gave.  People who tried.  People who cared.  A little boy who led a group of six other small children and kept them together.  The parents of these children who made the hard choice to send their children to sure safety and stay behind to wait for help for themselves.  The young man who commandeered a bus and drove a group of people to safety.  People who are gathering supplies and heading to Louisiana and Mississippi.  People who have volunteered their services and skills to help.  People who have spread the word about where money and donations can be sent.  People from other countries who have pledged money and services. 

I cannot begin to imagine the hard choices that these people have faced.  I cannot imagine watching every little bit of my home wash away.  I cannot imagine not knowing where my loved ones are.  If they are safe.  If they are unharmed.  I cannot imagine hunkering down in a stadium and fighting for a drink of water.  Walking through the streets of my town and watching dead bodies float by.  Listening to the cries of other people who are devastated.  Listening to the cries of my frightened child as I try to reassure them that everything will be okay.  Trying to say comforting words with conviction that I do not feel.  Trying to remain brave in the face of death and loss and fear and anger.  Being relocated to a different state.  Trying to get information.  Trying to get answers.  Trying to make a plan for the future.  Having my life as I knew it completely ripped away.

When I hear about a disaster or something bad happening to someone I always think about what it would be like to be in that person's shoes.  To be living my life and minding my own business and have some catastrophe strike that comes out of nowhere or is of such magnitude that I can do nothing to stop it.  I think about disaster on this scale striking the town in which I live.  It would be horrible.  It would be unthinkable.  It would also be affecting a group of people who are affluent.  Quite a different group than those affected in New Orleans.  You can rest assured that the relief would have come fast and efficiently.   Our children would have been sent somewhere safe.

I hear the debate and the finger pointing and the blame shifting.  I do not know that any single fact is going to do any immediate good for the refugees.  I am sure that the situation needs to be looked into.  We need to know what went wrong and where the plan failed.  We need to make sure that a better plan is in place for the future.  We need to do the right thing.  We need to help these American people and try to return their lives to the closest thing to normal that we can find.  We need to feed the hungry and doctor the sick and house the homeless.  We need to make sure that everyone has been brought to safety.  We need to cut through all of the red tape and the bureaucracy and get something done for these Americans.

Can we all just agree that something horrible has happened to these people?  These fellow Americans.  That something needs to be done?  That the time for debate is once everyone is safe and sound and reunited and cared for and whole?  That part of being a citizen of this country is that when something happens to one of us it affects us all?

posted by: loosestring at 23:51 | link | comments (4) |

It's just the normal noises in here

I have put my Botanic Gardens photos on Flickr.  We will see how this goes.  I am still working out the bugs (in my head).

Click here to see fabulous photos.

(Please leave feedback as to how this works for viewing)

posted by: loosestring at 12:44 | link | comments (2) |

Just give me one thing that I can hold on to To believe in this living is just a hard way to go

I had to step away for a break.  I had to enjoy this long weekend and the people in my life and the good things that make my life worth living.  Don't mean to be all melodramatic but I just can't live in that sad, angry, disillusioned place for too long.  I can't burn all of my energy as rage.  I can't be focused on all of the tragedy and drama.  I can't.  It's too easy for me to get sucked into the pessimism.  Too easy to forget about today and living and being in the moment.  Too easy to let more years slip away without taking the time to enjoy them.  It wears me out. 

I have a class on Friday night and that is a weird thing.  It is a hell of a lot better than a class on Saturday morning at 8:30 but it is still a bit strange.  I am trying to keep the positive thoughts flowing about this class but it is a bit of a review.  A lot of the information from the last Photography class I took is being repeated.  I think I would be totally happy with that except that it is the boring part that involves Math.  We are learning about the large format cameras - the big old-fashioned kind of camera - and that is pretty cool.  But the only reason we are doing that is because we pushed the issue.  I am not wild about the teacher.  She seems okay but she is very controlling and I am thinking that the assignments are not going to be quite so self-directed.  I am trying to consider that my feelings about this are being colored by the mood of last week.  Here's hoping.

T put sod in the lower portion of the backyard.  It looks fabulous.  The area was previously making a half assed attempt to impersonate a lawn but it was mostly weeds and patches of really sad looking grass.  It is such an improvement to have this lovely little patch of green, smooth grass.  I want to roll around on it.  I am so very easily pleased.

Saturday I went into school and got the rest of my books and supplies.  Big production and lots of running around but it is all taken care of now.  This is the first semester I applied for Student Aid so there was a lot of paperwork and talking and carrying papers from one place to the next.  I guess the whole thing is worth it because they are covering my expenses quite nicely. 

Sunday was productive.  I organized cupboards and cleaned.  I made a big pot of chili and I cooked a beautiful dinner of marinated, grilled beef, roasted potatoes with garlic and thyme, steamed asparagus and grilled red peppers.  My son came for dinner and brought his new girl-whatever.  I know he likes her or is interested in her and they are getting to know one another.  She is really a nice girl.  She wants to major in English and Dance.  Although she is not interested in pursuing Dance after school.  She seems intelligent and sweet and she has a good sense of humor.  I think it is interesting that she is an only child - as is my son - she has that same ability to relate well to adults.  Yes, I grilled her during the meal but did not ask about  her intentions with my son.  I was gentle.   Plus, she baked delicious chocolate chip cookies and brought them for dessert.  Definite bonus.

Today we went to the Botanic Gardens and walked all over the place and I took a million pictures.  It was mostly peaceful and relaxing.  There were bands of screaming children running through the Japanese Garden.  Do they not realize that I am in need of peace and much quiet?  Damn them.  There was one particularly obnoxious and ill-behaved girl who we kept running into.  I had one of my many cultural sterotypes broken to bits when I overheard her mother speak with a semi-cultured British accent.  I always think of British people as being reserved and mannerly.  This girl was channeling Veruca Salt.  I kept expecting her to demand an Oompa Loompa.

I am trying something new with my pictures because I think they are not viewable to everyone.  I am really tired from trying to upload everything and link things and type and think and remember to breath.  So, I will try it tomorrow.

For now, you wil have to be satisfied with these taken in my yard on Saturday:



Chinese Lantern



These Roses were on clearance at the home improvement store at the end of last season for $4.00.  I wish I had bought a couple more because they are really pretty and hearty.



Another bloom.



The Autumn Clematis is blooming like ma