Seriously, some of these are amazingly nauseating. Take the risk only if you are strong of stomach.
http://someoneatethis.tumblr.com/
Saturday, December 30, 2017
The Sad Potluck Dinner of This Holiday Season
What is it about an invitation to a potluck gathering that makes me a little afraid before I even attend? And then, once attending, I am not only afraid but sad and appalled and a bit pissed off! This does not make me joyful or full of festive holiday spirit, it makes me a bit spiteful and Bah-Humbug-ish to be honest. (To be clear, as I mention below, I have been to a few potlucks that kicked ass because good cooks were invited and they cooked! This is not that.)
Yes, I will admit that I am a bit of a snob when it comes to sharing food. My theory is that if you are going to cook something to share with others, make it something good! Make it something that will either WOW people or at least make them say "YUM!" What you bring should not make people say "YUK" even to themselves, and hopefully not say it out loud.
A large bowl of plain cooked quinoa is not an appropriate thing to bring to a holiday potluck, sorry. Plain. Cooked. Quinoa. Nothing in it, no flavor, no seasoning. What is that supposed to mean? "Hey, sorry, I had this in the cupboard and needed to use it by the expiration date so just take a big spoonful and eat up!" Equally inappropriate is a tiny little salad that would really only serve one person as a side dish and it had been drowned in a vinaigrette dressing hours before, so the lettuce and mushrooms and pears were slippery, wilted and inedible. (And the flavor combo of raw mushrooms and pears is no bueno, just saying.) Also inedible was falafel that seemed to be made with kidney beans instead of chickpeas and was shaped like tiny footballs and then baked. The footballs were heavy enough to have been kicked over a goalpost.
Also present was a kale salad that looked festive with its green leaves and red bell peppers but aren't we done with kale salad by now? Didn't kale salad peak about two years ago? If you MUST make it, could you at least shred the large kale leaves so that when you eat it you don't have a huge leaf hanging out of your mouth, making you look like a thoughtful dinosaur as you chew and chew and chew. Come on, we all know that kale is tough. Large kale leaves are impossible to eat standing up, with a plastic fork. How is this appropriate for a potluck party?
Finally, mac and cheese. This would be a great addition to a buffet, everyone loves mac and cheese, it heats up well, it is easy to eat off of paper plates with plastic forks, you can use any kind of cheese and even add veggies to it (like broccoli) if you want to pretend to make it healthy. But what you don't want to do is use a cheese-like dairy-free substance that is not creamy but curdles into something that looks and tastes like gravel and smells like wet cardboard. So, so sad.
There was one amazing dish, made by the host of the party, a French concoction called aligot, which is basically really, really cheesy mashed potatoes. It was hot, rich, warm and comforting. I had three helpings.
Sad that the only "luck" at this potluck was the bad luck of eating this stuff. (Good thing no one at the party reads this blog.) For me, it was a short visit, a taste of everything except the plain quinoa (seriously, add some chopped veggies and make it a salad) and then out the door.
Yes, I admit to being very judgemental and bitchy about potluck dinners. Maybe it's because everyone I know is a really good cook and if they aren't, they know how to buy a really good pie and bring that, or pick up a quart of a pre-made salad or side dish at a good grocery store. Even Safeway potato salad would have been a welcome guest. Who can't venture into Whole Foods and come out with something nice? In the past year I have attended a couple of potluck dinners that were amazing, so I know it can be done. So, there you have it, my blunt criticism of the Sad Potluck Dinner Party. No apologies on my part, I stand by my opinion.
Oh, and if you want to know what I brought, I offered to bring something sweet. I brought my homemade Very Dark Chocolate Cookies. I left off the nuts because I knew one person was allergic to nuts, but they were incredibly delicious sprinkled with a little sea salt instead of the nuts. I left the party shortly after one person asked me if they had gluten. I proudly responded "Yes, and they have butter, sugar and real chocolate, too!" I wonder if anyone tried them.
Here is a photo of a really nasty looking dish to take to a potluck. I picked this one but there are so many sites of photos of disgusting food, it was hard to decide.
Bon appetit!
Yes, I will admit that I am a bit of a snob when it comes to sharing food. My theory is that if you are going to cook something to share with others, make it something good! Make it something that will either WOW people or at least make them say "YUM!" What you bring should not make people say "YUK" even to themselves, and hopefully not say it out loud.
A large bowl of plain cooked quinoa is not an appropriate thing to bring to a holiday potluck, sorry. Plain. Cooked. Quinoa. Nothing in it, no flavor, no seasoning. What is that supposed to mean? "Hey, sorry, I had this in the cupboard and needed to use it by the expiration date so just take a big spoonful and eat up!" Equally inappropriate is a tiny little salad that would really only serve one person as a side dish and it had been drowned in a vinaigrette dressing hours before, so the lettuce and mushrooms and pears were slippery, wilted and inedible. (And the flavor combo of raw mushrooms and pears is no bueno, just saying.) Also inedible was falafel that seemed to be made with kidney beans instead of chickpeas and was shaped like tiny footballs and then baked. The footballs were heavy enough to have been kicked over a goalpost.
Also present was a kale salad that looked festive with its green leaves and red bell peppers but aren't we done with kale salad by now? Didn't kale salad peak about two years ago? If you MUST make it, could you at least shred the large kale leaves so that when you eat it you don't have a huge leaf hanging out of your mouth, making you look like a thoughtful dinosaur as you chew and chew and chew. Come on, we all know that kale is tough. Large kale leaves are impossible to eat standing up, with a plastic fork. How is this appropriate for a potluck party?
Finally, mac and cheese. This would be a great addition to a buffet, everyone loves mac and cheese, it heats up well, it is easy to eat off of paper plates with plastic forks, you can use any kind of cheese and even add veggies to it (like broccoli) if you want to pretend to make it healthy. But what you don't want to do is use a cheese-like dairy-free substance that is not creamy but curdles into something that looks and tastes like gravel and smells like wet cardboard. So, so sad.
There was one amazing dish, made by the host of the party, a French concoction called aligot, which is basically really, really cheesy mashed potatoes. It was hot, rich, warm and comforting. I had three helpings.
Sad that the only "luck" at this potluck was the bad luck of eating this stuff. (Good thing no one at the party reads this blog.) For me, it was a short visit, a taste of everything except the plain quinoa (seriously, add some chopped veggies and make it a salad) and then out the door.
Yes, I admit to being very judgemental and bitchy about potluck dinners. Maybe it's because everyone I know is a really good cook and if they aren't, they know how to buy a really good pie and bring that, or pick up a quart of a pre-made salad or side dish at a good grocery store. Even Safeway potato salad would have been a welcome guest. Who can't venture into Whole Foods and come out with something nice? In the past year I have attended a couple of potluck dinners that were amazing, so I know it can be done. So, there you have it, my blunt criticism of the Sad Potluck Dinner Party. No apologies on my part, I stand by my opinion.
Oh, and if you want to know what I brought, I offered to bring something sweet. I brought my homemade Very Dark Chocolate Cookies. I left off the nuts because I knew one person was allergic to nuts, but they were incredibly delicious sprinkled with a little sea salt instead of the nuts. I left the party shortly after one person asked me if they had gluten. I proudly responded "Yes, and they have butter, sugar and real chocolate, too!" I wonder if anyone tried them.
Here is a photo of a really nasty looking dish to take to a potluck. I picked this one but there are so many sites of photos of disgusting food, it was hard to decide.
Bon appetit!
"Manhattan Beach" by Jennifer Egan
Always wary of reading books that have been highly praised, especially when the author is someone I don't like, I approached "Manhattan Beach" cautiously. However, unlike some of Egan's other novels, this one is much more straightforward, more of a typical novel in structure than "A Visit From the Goon Squad" from a few years ago. (That novel won her the Pulitzer Prize, which puzzled me.) I really liked this book and highly recommend it.
"Manhattan Beach" begins in the early 1930's when Anna is a little girl and it ends about thirty years later, after WWII is over and Anna is a grown woman. In those thirty years we encounter not just Anna but her family, the Irish and Italian underworld crime syndicates who vie for power in New York, the culture of the local Naval shipyard, blatant disregard for the laws of Prohibition and the fledgling rise of women in the workforce during the height of the war. Plus echoes of so much more from those decades of history.
Egan is a masterful writer. As I read on, the characters developed so fully that I felt they were real, that their voices were those of my own life. Their lives could have existed on the same plane as mine, that is how believable they seemed to me. In this novel, Egan reminded me often of Jane Smiley's early writing, where you read a paragraph, look up and away from the page, think about what you just read, and then you read it again.
"...from the instant she pushed down on the pedals and the bike began to bump over the bricks, Anna felt as though lightning had touched her. Motion performed alchemy on her surroundings, transforming them from a disjointed array of scenes into a symphonic machine she could soar through invisibly as a seagull .... (with) a strange electric joy swerving through her."
It's not often that I want to own a book. This book, when it comes to the used book store near me, will be one I buy. If you have a chance, read "Manhattan Beach" and let me know what you think.
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"Manhattan Beach" begins in the early 1930's when Anna is a little girl and it ends about thirty years later, after WWII is over and Anna is a grown woman. In those thirty years we encounter not just Anna but her family, the Irish and Italian underworld crime syndicates who vie for power in New York, the culture of the local Naval shipyard, blatant disregard for the laws of Prohibition and the fledgling rise of women in the workforce during the height of the war. Plus echoes of so much more from those decades of history.
Egan is a masterful writer. As I read on, the characters developed so fully that I felt they were real, that their voices were those of my own life. Their lives could have existed on the same plane as mine, that is how believable they seemed to me. In this novel, Egan reminded me often of Jane Smiley's early writing, where you read a paragraph, look up and away from the page, think about what you just read, and then you read it again.
"...from the instant she pushed down on the pedals and the bike began to bump over the bricks, Anna felt as though lightning had touched her. Motion performed alchemy on her surroundings, transforming them from a disjointed array of scenes into a symphonic machine she could soar through invisibly as a seagull .... (with) a strange electric joy swerving through her."
It's not often that I want to own a book. This book, when it comes to the used book store near me, will be one I buy. If you have a chance, read "Manhattan Beach" and let me know what you think.
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Thursday, December 28, 2017
Oh my word, it's been WEEKS since I connected with you all......
How cute is this guy and how much he looks like we all do after this year: worried, sad, trepidatious and maybe ready to try again.
So here is a quick missive, to be followed by longer ones. The major holiday has come and gone and we have just a few days to wait until this awful year ends. It might not have been awful for some people but I cannot count it as one of my personal favorites.
Let's recap some of the highlights: the devil incarnate was inaugurated into office and began his reign of evil and terror immediately. He derides and dismisses anyone not white, claims the election was rigged EVEN THOUGH HE FUCKING WON, starts a really bad polka with Korea's evil dictator, removes the US from the Paris Climate Agreement, describes neo-Nazis as "very fine people" and on and on. His idiocy knows no bounds and yet there are people who will vote for him again.
Following that, in the spring, my Mom died. It happened fairly quickly and she was very old but still. My Mom died.
In the summer I lost my job at the Olea Hotel because, as it turns out, I am not a "team player" even if I was the best member of that team. I would match my customer service skills with anyone in the hospitality industry but I refused to say "yes" all the time, and thus I needed to be replaced. It was fine with me, it was my time to exit that building anyway.
Then, in the fall, the fires. The fires took everyone's mojo away for a while. And they took so much from so many in myriad ways. Terrifying, mournful, shocking and brutal.
Later in the fall I developed a Bakers cyst behind my left knee which lead to a very, very painful inflamed bursa on the front of my leg which led to a torn meniscus in that knee. So painful that I couldn't even put lotion on that leg. Add to the joy was my right knee which is bone on bone without a meniscus and you can see that I am the hobbling Tiny Tim of every winter tale in my mind. Painful and frustrating.
Finally a bizarre Thanksgiving, a painful December and to end it all, on a good note, Christmas Eve, the best day in the year to me and it did not disappoint. It made up for so many bad moments in the year because of my incredibly great kids, great crab, great champagne and so much love. Whew, at least one thing worked out as it should.
Three more days to go in this black curtain of a year. The President thing will not be gone soon, my knee (the one that is fixable) will go under the knife at the end of January, I have a bunch of social engagements on the books for the next four weeks and I am looking forward to 2018 being a year of progress, travel, change and positivity. And maybe a job, but I am still hoping to win the lottery so that annoyance (the job) can be taken off the table. Hope abounds.
OK, more to follow. Since I cannot walk much or do much, I read a lot. Book reports coming.
xoxo Hope everyone who reads this is having the best holidays ever. Or if not ever, at least the best holiday season this year!
Here's to traveling to random parts of France:
Monday, December 18, 2017
For Mom: A Brandy Manhattan
The only cocktail I ever heard Mom order was a Brandy Manhattan. Perhaps in her younger years she ordered something else, but I know nothing about that time. But she loved her Brandy Manhattans. When it arrived at the table, she would get a little mischievous smile on her face, take a small sip and make that little shrug of the shoulders that we all make when tasting something we love.
I needed some brandy today for a recipe and since I had it in the house, a Brandy Manhattan had to be my cocktail of the evening. It's sweeter than a standard Manhattan because brandy is sweeter than bourbon. But the brandy I purchased was decent (aka it cost more than $10.00) and it made a really nice, smooth Manhattan. I can see why Mom liked them, they are good for sipping, they are easy to drink and they make you happy.
This is the first holiday season since Mom died. I don't miss her but I think of her often, of her love of the Christmas tree, of lights, of old fashioned carols, of See's candies, of getting Christmas cards in the mail. I am glad she is off somewhere, having some other adventure, not wading through another year of being old. And I am happy to have a Brandy Manhattan in honor of her. Cheers, Mom, wherever you are!
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I needed some brandy today for a recipe and since I had it in the house, a Brandy Manhattan had to be my cocktail of the evening. It's sweeter than a standard Manhattan because brandy is sweeter than bourbon. But the brandy I purchased was decent (aka it cost more than $10.00) and it made a really nice, smooth Manhattan. I can see why Mom liked them, they are good for sipping, they are easy to drink and they make you happy.
This is the first holiday season since Mom died. I don't miss her but I think of her often, of her love of the Christmas tree, of lights, of old fashioned carols, of See's candies, of getting Christmas cards in the mail. I am glad she is off somewhere, having some other adventure, not wading through another year of being old. And I am happy to have a Brandy Manhattan in honor of her. Cheers, Mom, wherever you are!
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Wednesday, December 13, 2017
"Pulp Fiction" one more time
Sometimes you want to watch something you've never seen before, something that will be totally engaging, new, fun and smart. Sadly, it's difficult to find that on either Netflix or Amazon right now, at least I can't seem to find it. So tonight I reverted to the past and watched "Pulp Fiction" once again. Why? I have no idea, but I am glad I did.
There are a few parts I fast forward through because I have seen them enough and don't care. But there are so many scenes that are still, after 23 years, brilliant, funny, shocking and memorable. Lines of dialogue that never get old, non-linear timeframes that make you scratch your head, wonderful characters and unbelievable situations that defy reality. It's a really good movie that holds up well, and if you haven't seen it, you should. If you have seen it, see it again. Jules and Vincent Vega, Mia and Marsellus Wallace, Butch, HoneyBunny, they are all amazing and audacious. Drugs and violence, love and death, foot massage and coffee shop robberies. It's all there, waiting to be seen. (Spoiler alert: there is a lot of swearing and blood.)
Not a holiday film, but then, other than "Die Hard" what movie do you want to watch at this time of the year? Another go round of angels and a wonderful life and Santa and Elf? No, go the low and raunchy route. "I'm the foot-fucking master. I got my technique down, I don't tickle or nothing." It can't get much better than that.
"Just because you are a character doesn't mean you have character."
"Any time of the day is a good time for pie."
"If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions."
"Well, we would have to be talking about one charmin' motherfuckin' pig."
.
There are a few parts I fast forward through because I have seen them enough and don't care. But there are so many scenes that are still, after 23 years, brilliant, funny, shocking and memorable. Lines of dialogue that never get old, non-linear timeframes that make you scratch your head, wonderful characters and unbelievable situations that defy reality. It's a really good movie that holds up well, and if you haven't seen it, you should. If you have seen it, see it again. Jules and Vincent Vega, Mia and Marsellus Wallace, Butch, HoneyBunny, they are all amazing and audacious. Drugs and violence, love and death, foot massage and coffee shop robberies. It's all there, waiting to be seen. (Spoiler alert: there is a lot of swearing and blood.)
Not a holiday film, but then, other than "Die Hard" what movie do you want to watch at this time of the year? Another go round of angels and a wonderful life and Santa and Elf? No, go the low and raunchy route. "I'm the foot-fucking master. I got my technique down, I don't tickle or nothing." It can't get much better than that.
"Just because you are a character doesn't mean you have character."
"Any time of the day is a good time for pie."
"If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions."
"Well, we would have to be talking about one charmin' motherfuckin' pig."
.
Dutch Babies = Giant Pancake in my house
Years ago, when my kids were small, I discovered Dutch Baby pancakes. For us, living on nothing, Dutch Babies were a little miracle: 3 ingredients and you had either breakfast or dinner. Sprinkle with a little powdered sugar and then squeeze lemon juice over it, your meal was complete. Carbs and protein, very tasty, nothing else needed. For some reason, we called them Giant Pancakes.
We still make them, all of us separately. I make a GP at least once a month, it's a good and easy breakfast and turning on the oven heats up my apartment/duplex. My favorite topping is still the powdered sugar-lemon juice bit but they are good with raspberry jam as well, or maple syrup.
However, yesterday I wanted breakfast and had no lemons and was sick of sugar anyway, having baked dozens of cookies in the past several days. I wanted GP but savory. So I took the basic recipe for one person( 2 eggs, half cup flour, half cup milk whirled up in the blender) and added salt and pepper and just before pouring into the frying pan (with melted butter and a little bacon grease) I added some grated cheese, a handful of cilantro, a dash of cumin and a shake of red pepper flakes and a couple of chopped green onions. I didn't blend them up too much, just enough to get them mixed well with the eggs stuff. Into the pan, 20 minutes later it was ready. I splashed some salsa over the top and it was delicious! Savory, fluffy, like a giant popover, filling and cheap. What more can you ask?
Dutch Baby, Giant Pancake, whatever you call it, make one now. Breakfast, lunch or even dinner. I can see adding some pesto to it, parmesan cheese, red pepper flakes. Or some romesco sauce. Or just salt, pepper, parsley and then topping it with a bit of sour cream and some smoked salmon when it comes out of the oven. Possibilities abound. Do it.
Friday, December 8, 2017
"Lady Bird"
If you know me at all, you know that movie review phrases like "heartfelt coming-of-age story" and "bittersweet adolescence" are enough to make me gag. For me to see a movie thus described, not happening.
But when Rotten Tomatoes has a 100% rating on the Tomatometer, well, I have to think it might be worth seeing. If even the most cynical critic out there liked it, maybe I will as well.
And I did! "Lady Bird" is sweet and funny and sad and smart, but it's a lot more than that. It's not a Great film but it's a Very Good movie. Somehow it captures all the awkward, angry, emotionally unbalanced nuances of adolescence and presents them in a way that doesn't make you cringe or gag.
To be happy or to be popular? To skip school or be good and go to class? To do what your parents want or to defy them? To have sex or not? What does it all mean? Why bother?
See this movie if you can and if you don't walk out of the theater with a wistful smile on your face, then you are beyond redemption. Great script, simple story, excellent acting. Even when you want to slap one of the characters, you want to hug them at the same time. Laurie Metcalf and Saoirse Ronan are perfectly cast as mom and daughter, the movie is set in Sacramento ("...the midwest of California") and entire package is lovely.
Two thumbs up!
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But when Rotten Tomatoes has a 100% rating on the Tomatometer, well, I have to think it might be worth seeing. If even the most cynical critic out there liked it, maybe I will as well.
And I did! "Lady Bird" is sweet and funny and sad and smart, but it's a lot more than that. It's not a Great film but it's a Very Good movie. Somehow it captures all the awkward, angry, emotionally unbalanced nuances of adolescence and presents them in a way that doesn't make you cringe or gag.
To be happy or to be popular? To skip school or be good and go to class? To do what your parents want or to defy them? To have sex or not? What does it all mean? Why bother?
See this movie if you can and if you don't walk out of the theater with a wistful smile on your face, then you are beyond redemption. Great script, simple story, excellent acting. Even when you want to slap one of the characters, you want to hug them at the same time. Laurie Metcalf and Saoirse Ronan are perfectly cast as mom and daughter, the movie is set in Sacramento ("...the midwest of California") and entire package is lovely.
Two thumbs up!
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"That would be in the butt, Bob!"
Is there anything more enticing to a reader than a headline that has the word "butt" in it? Especially when the headline is the punchline of an old joke, no less!
But in the butt it must be. Yesterday I had a colonoscopy, a necessary but not welcome procedure as we get older. I had one about 15 years ago and because of that and other factors, it was time to experience that joy once again.
As everyone knows, even if you haven't had one, the procedure is nothing compared to the prep. The day before you can have no solid food, no caffeine, and you have to drink liquids all day. Late in that day you begin drinking the poop juice, as I call it, which varies from putrid to disgusting, depending on who your doctor is and what punishment they assign you.
My juice of the week was a gallon of stuff (a gallon!) that didn't necessarily taste bad because it had little taste but it was thicker than water and had a texture of something like watered down Elmers Glue. I had to drink a half gallon in three hours on Wednesday evening and after each cup my mouth felt like a felt-lined mouse nest. I think I brushed my teeth five times in three hours.
What the poop juice does to you does not need to be explained.
Thursday morning I had to drink the second half of the gallon in two hours. Oh, joy! Then for three hours before the procedure you cannot have anything, no water, no breath mint, nothing.
The crew in the hospital were incredibly nice, very personable and chatty. I had a lovely conversation with one nurse who lost her home in the fire and her emotionally mixed experience of having to buy all new Christmas ornaments. Another conversation was about how strange it is that we will read stupid magazines in doctors offices even if we never read them at home.
The procedure is easy and quick. The results were perfect. I don't know what kind of drugs they gave me but I was in bed at 9:00 and I slept all night long until 6:00 this morning, which is rare for me.
Whew, that's over. And I know colonoscopies are not really a blog sort of topic, but in case you are facing one sometime soon, keep this in mind: it's a day and a half out of your life and it could save your life. They are in and out of your butt in 20 minutes, it is painless and you feel like you took responsibility for your health for one shining moment.
But please, other than that, leave my butt alone!
But in the butt it must be. Yesterday I had a colonoscopy, a necessary but not welcome procedure as we get older. I had one about 15 years ago and because of that and other factors, it was time to experience that joy once again.
As everyone knows, even if you haven't had one, the procedure is nothing compared to the prep. The day before you can have no solid food, no caffeine, and you have to drink liquids all day. Late in that day you begin drinking the poop juice, as I call it, which varies from putrid to disgusting, depending on who your doctor is and what punishment they assign you.
My juice of the week was a gallon of stuff (a gallon!) that didn't necessarily taste bad because it had little taste but it was thicker than water and had a texture of something like watered down Elmers Glue. I had to drink a half gallon in three hours on Wednesday evening and after each cup my mouth felt like a felt-lined mouse nest. I think I brushed my teeth five times in three hours.
What the poop juice does to you does not need to be explained.
Thursday morning I had to drink the second half of the gallon in two hours. Oh, joy! Then for three hours before the procedure you cannot have anything, no water, no breath mint, nothing.
The crew in the hospital were incredibly nice, very personable and chatty. I had a lovely conversation with one nurse who lost her home in the fire and her emotionally mixed experience of having to buy all new Christmas ornaments. Another conversation was about how strange it is that we will read stupid magazines in doctors offices even if we never read them at home.
The procedure is easy and quick. The results were perfect. I don't know what kind of drugs they gave me but I was in bed at 9:00 and I slept all night long until 6:00 this morning, which is rare for me.
Whew, that's over. And I know colonoscopies are not really a blog sort of topic, but in case you are facing one sometime soon, keep this in mind: it's a day and a half out of your life and it could save your life. They are in and out of your butt in 20 minutes, it is painless and you feel like you took responsibility for your health for one shining moment.
But please, other than that, leave my butt alone!
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
When you can't walk, you read. And drink!
Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! The past two weeks I have been struggling with this terrible pain in my leg. Last week my doc diagnosed it as a relatively rare leg bursitis (inflammation of the bursa near my knee) and gave me an incredibly painful Injection of Fire right into the terribly painful area, which engendered some really nasty swear words from me for the five seconds it took for the Fire to be injected.
That was a week ago. The inflammation is less and the pain is incrementally getting better but until today I could walk only two blocks before I had to turn around and hobble painfully back. Today I was able to hobble three blocks (!) before turning back, sitting with ice on my elevated leg and taking another Tylenol. But three blocks is progress. Five days ago my leg was so painful to the touch that I couldn't bear to put lotion on it. Now I can, so there's a bit more progress as well.
Since I can't walk, I have been reading. A lot of junk, Harlan Coben and John Grisham to name two. But I read "Careers for Women" by Joanna Scott, a novel I enjoyed for several reasons: good characters developed over decades, some fine historical notes about Manhattan from 1958 - 2001 including a fictionalized look at the workings of the Port Authority, the same look at an aluminum plant that was modeled on several plants that dumped hazardous waste into rivers and lakes in the Midwest. The title is a sarcastic spin on just that: careers for women, which include secretary, prostitute, blackmailer, babysitter, mother, administrative manager, housewife and so many more. The prose is clear and clean, the timeline meanders a bit but that, to me, was part of its charm.
This is not a great book but it is certainly a very enjoyable read. Two thumbs up.
And I have had my belief in the restorative and medicinal properties of alcohol strengthened in the past several weeks. What pain Tylenol doesn't mitigate, a nice shot of whiskey definitely assists in the pain relieving task.
More on the trip to Oregon later. I promise.
That was a week ago. The inflammation is less and the pain is incrementally getting better but until today I could walk only two blocks before I had to turn around and hobble painfully back. Today I was able to hobble three blocks (!) before turning back, sitting with ice on my elevated leg and taking another Tylenol. But three blocks is progress. Five days ago my leg was so painful to the touch that I couldn't bear to put lotion on it. Now I can, so there's a bit more progress as well.
Since I can't walk, I have been reading. A lot of junk, Harlan Coben and John Grisham to name two. But I read "Careers for Women" by Joanna Scott, a novel I enjoyed for several reasons: good characters developed over decades, some fine historical notes about Manhattan from 1958 - 2001 including a fictionalized look at the workings of the Port Authority, the same look at an aluminum plant that was modeled on several plants that dumped hazardous waste into rivers and lakes in the Midwest. The title is a sarcastic spin on just that: careers for women, which include secretary, prostitute, blackmailer, babysitter, mother, administrative manager, housewife and so many more. The prose is clear and clean, the timeline meanders a bit but that, to me, was part of its charm.
This is not a great book but it is certainly a very enjoyable read. Two thumbs up.
And I have had my belief in the restorative and medicinal properties of alcohol strengthened in the past several weeks. What pain Tylenol doesn't mitigate, a nice shot of whiskey definitely assists in the pain relieving task.
More on the trip to Oregon later. I promise.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Been away too long
I just published a post that I wrote two weeks ago about the fire. I haven't written anything since that but here I am, back again.
Two things to discuss: Thanksgiving in Oregon last Saturday night and debilitating pain in my leg. Let's tackle the last one first.
On November 4,while walking my dog early in the morning, my left leg basically defied me and left me screaming in pain a block from my house. I am not a baby about pain, but this was 10+ on the pain scale. Every step I took was met with a scream. It took me ten minutes to walk (hobble, limp) the last block. Long story to short = Jenn took me to an appointment at 4:00 that afternoon to see a doctor. He diagnosed a Bakers Cyst. Fine, and I was told it should be less painful in a week or two. The pain did not get better, and my walking daily was reduced from about 5 miles a day to two blocks a day and even that was incredibly painful.
Today, with twenty days of pain and more than three weeks from that previous appointment, I was in the osteo doctor's office, a woman whom I have seen before and one that I like and trust. She had a different diagnosis, one that she said was really painful. Short story, I had two shots into my leg, one in my knee (not too painful) and one in the bursa below my knee which was incredibly painful. (I said FUCK several times on that injection.) We will see if it helps. It better.
I know that this is personal and no one really cares about anyone else's medical stuff or pain or injections, so I am totally fine knowing that no one read this far. It's just something I needed to get down on the page.
More on the trip to Oregon tomorrow. Or on Friday.
xo.
Two things to discuss: Thanksgiving in Oregon last Saturday night and debilitating pain in my leg. Let's tackle the last one first.
On November 4,while walking my dog early in the morning, my left leg basically defied me and left me screaming in pain a block from my house. I am not a baby about pain, but this was 10+ on the pain scale. Every step I took was met with a scream. It took me ten minutes to walk (hobble, limp) the last block. Long story to short = Jenn took me to an appointment at 4:00 that afternoon to see a doctor. He diagnosed a Bakers Cyst. Fine, and I was told it should be less painful in a week or two. The pain did not get better, and my walking daily was reduced from about 5 miles a day to two blocks a day and even that was incredibly painful.
Today, with twenty days of pain and more than three weeks from that previous appointment, I was in the osteo doctor's office, a woman whom I have seen before and one that I like and trust. She had a different diagnosis, one that she said was really painful. Short story, I had two shots into my leg, one in my knee (not too painful) and one in the bursa below my knee which was incredibly painful. (I said FUCK several times on that injection.) We will see if it helps. It better.
I know that this is personal and no one really cares about anyone else's medical stuff or pain or injections, so I am totally fine knowing that no one read this far. It's just something I needed to get down on the page.
More on the trip to Oregon tomorrow. Or on Friday.
xo.
The Fire: Epilogue, Part 3
We all knew this would happen, at least those with cynical hearts. Lawyers have descended on Santa Rosa and Sonoma County, lawyers from all over the U.S.A.. Lawyers who want to make money, who want people to sue everyone, who want a monetary piece of the pie, of the scraps of human grief, of the price of ashes.
Voices are being raised now, voices who need to blame someone for the loss of their home, their belongings, the things that anchored them to their world. The thought is that someone is to blame for this, and you can't fucking sue the wind, so let's sue someone else. Someone with deep pockets. Let's go after PGE and the city of Santa Rosa and the county of Sonoma. They should have fixed this BEFORE IT HAPPENED!
The fire raged from Calistoga to Santa Rosa, a distance of about 25 miles as the crow flies (but the fire didn't fly a direct route, it bounced all over the place as it determinedly torched everything it could) in about 3 hours. Tell me, tell the world, what could have been done in that time? No one knew it would be that horrific until the first few hours of Monday morning, October 9. At that point the wind was hurricane force and the fires (three began within 15 minutes of each other) created their own tornado force winds and vortices. Who could have mitigated that destruction? Would some kind of an alarm have helped? Or would that have simply made everyone in Sonoma County take to the roads to flee? There is no logic in that scenario. As there is no answer either.
I can only imagine the sorrow and the frustration and the anger that people have, those who lost their homes, about not getting a warning that the fire was on its way. But you can't go backwards and place blame that some warning system wasn't in place. Santa Rosa city and Sonoma County in general have no bell to ring to alert people that danger is ahead.
PGE works on their lines all the time, we have all witnessed their trucks cutting branches. But I predict that they will take the brunt of the blame and if they do, and if they are sued so egregiously as to bankrupt them, our entire utility system in Northern California will be at risk for the rest of our lives. If the government takes over the utilities, maintenance of the lines (gas and electric) will go the way of our roads: potholes, broken barriers and no safety nets.
It seems, at this point, that the fire was caused because of a force of nature. (Please, oh, please do not say "An act of god" because, really? What god would want this? A god of war?) Extremely high winds, downed power lines, and the rest is history. Place blame if you will and you might win monetarily, you might win a sound bite, but in the long run it is a wrongful stance. You might win some money but you will lose in the long run morally.
I know very few people read this blog so I am not worried about blowback. But there should be huge outrage if the blame is concentrated on one utility company. Wind + heat + more wind = fire. Could that have been prevented? In my opinion, No.
.
Voices are being raised now, voices who need to blame someone for the loss of their home, their belongings, the things that anchored them to their world. The thought is that someone is to blame for this, and you can't fucking sue the wind, so let's sue someone else. Someone with deep pockets. Let's go after PGE and the city of Santa Rosa and the county of Sonoma. They should have fixed this BEFORE IT HAPPENED!
The fire raged from Calistoga to Santa Rosa, a distance of about 25 miles as the crow flies (but the fire didn't fly a direct route, it bounced all over the place as it determinedly torched everything it could) in about 3 hours. Tell me, tell the world, what could have been done in that time? No one knew it would be that horrific until the first few hours of Monday morning, October 9. At that point the wind was hurricane force and the fires (three began within 15 minutes of each other) created their own tornado force winds and vortices. Who could have mitigated that destruction? Would some kind of an alarm have helped? Or would that have simply made everyone in Sonoma County take to the roads to flee? There is no logic in that scenario. As there is no answer either.
I can only imagine the sorrow and the frustration and the anger that people have, those who lost their homes, about not getting a warning that the fire was on its way. But you can't go backwards and place blame that some warning system wasn't in place. Santa Rosa city and Sonoma County in general have no bell to ring to alert people that danger is ahead.
PGE works on their lines all the time, we have all witnessed their trucks cutting branches. But I predict that they will take the brunt of the blame and if they do, and if they are sued so egregiously as to bankrupt them, our entire utility system in Northern California will be at risk for the rest of our lives. If the government takes over the utilities, maintenance of the lines (gas and electric) will go the way of our roads: potholes, broken barriers and no safety nets.
It seems, at this point, that the fire was caused because of a force of nature. (Please, oh, please do not say "An act of god" because, really? What god would want this? A god of war?) Extremely high winds, downed power lines, and the rest is history. Place blame if you will and you might win monetarily, you might win a sound bite, but in the long run it is a wrongful stance. You might win some money but you will lose in the long run morally.
I know very few people read this blog so I am not worried about blowback. But there should be huge outrage if the blame is concentrated on one utility company. Wind + heat + more wind = fire. Could that have been prevented? In my opinion, No.
.
Friday, November 3, 2017
The Fire: Epilogue, Part 2
For reasons that aren't clear to me, I went to see Coffey Park and Larkfield-Wikiup areas yesterday, neighborhoods in Santa Rosa that were completely destroyed by the fire. I think it was because I have been helping out a bit, running errands, doing research for someone who lost everything in the fire and thus it has been in the forefront of my mind this week. I felt like I owed something to see the destruction for myself. A silent, personal benediction of sort, I suppose.
As I said previously, it is so different than seeing the ruins on TV or in print. It is astounding that nothing is left. There are no homes or buildings "partly burned." They are either gone or still standing untouched. Blocks and blocks of gray, black and white, nothing else. Chimneys, twisted pieces of metal, cars that are practically melted. And yet, you turn your head and there is a patch of bright green grass, someone's front yard, shining like a new copper penny in the midst of all the sad, bitter ashes. Down two blocks is a white picket fence, still there, not even scorched, a mocking sentry to a house that no longer needs guarding.
Yes, cost of the fire is huge, the personal loss to thousands is impossible to put a price on and the recovery will take years. Seeing just a small scope of the ruins, that vision will stay with me for more than just years.
As I said previously, it is so different than seeing the ruins on TV or in print. It is astounding that nothing is left. There are no homes or buildings "partly burned." They are either gone or still standing untouched. Blocks and blocks of gray, black and white, nothing else. Chimneys, twisted pieces of metal, cars that are practically melted. And yet, you turn your head and there is a patch of bright green grass, someone's front yard, shining like a new copper penny in the midst of all the sad, bitter ashes. Down two blocks is a white picket fence, still there, not even scorched, a mocking sentry to a house that no longer needs guarding.
Yes, cost of the fire is huge, the personal loss to thousands is impossible to put a price on and the recovery will take years. Seeing just a small scope of the ruins, that vision will stay with me for more than just years.
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
The Fire: Epilogue, Part 1
Just as seeing the destruction of the fire on television differs from seeing the ruins up close, experiencing the "they lost everything" in words is completely different than acknowledging it in real life.
"They lost everything." Not just the beautiful home, the lovely grounds, the art on the walls, the gorgeous furniture, that bathtub, that kitchen, the vineyard. But until today it wasn't brought home to me that they lost everything else: their favorite socks, their pajamas, the cookbooks they had from grandma, the copy of "Where the Wild Things Are" and their Teddy Bears. The incidental things, like the perfect chef's knife, the little lemon squeezy thing, those really nice bath towels, the sweatshirt that was so old but so cozy, a small glass owl that someone gave them so long ago, a bar of olive oil soap, some favorite shampoo, all those spices they brought back from Italy. They turn to take a saute pan off the wall and that motion is no longer worth anything. The wall and that pan are gone. They look up to see the framed photo of the kids when they were in the pool at their parents house, but nothing is there, the photo is gone, the wall where it was hanging is ash. The house is ash.
Jenn said today in answer to a question from me: "Just buy Liz something. She has nothing now." I had not thought of that word and that meaning. Nothing. Not a thing. Nothing of her life from before October 8 exists anymore except her husband and her daughter and they are so glad to be alive.
Today I spent 4 hours researching what Liz's family paid for things in the house that no longer exists except for ash and rubble. In the end, the family is fine, they have a nice rental house. But think about it: it's getting cold, you open that familiar drawer and pull out a scarf, you open a different drawer and pull out warm socks, you take your Le Creuset cast iron casserole and set it to warm so you can make soup, you glance up and see that painting you bought in Bruges for a couple of dollars 20 years ago. But all of that is just memory. None of that exists now. You have no scarf right now or warm socks or a cast iron casserole, a painting. It's all memory. But as Liz said, "you can't think about it, you have to look away and cry for a while and then look ahead."
Wow. Think about it, close your eyes and think about every single thing being gone. Think about it.
xo.
"They lost everything." Not just the beautiful home, the lovely grounds, the art on the walls, the gorgeous furniture, that bathtub, that kitchen, the vineyard. But until today it wasn't brought home to me that they lost everything else: their favorite socks, their pajamas, the cookbooks they had from grandma, the copy of "Where the Wild Things Are" and their Teddy Bears. The incidental things, like the perfect chef's knife, the little lemon squeezy thing, those really nice bath towels, the sweatshirt that was so old but so cozy, a small glass owl that someone gave them so long ago, a bar of olive oil soap, some favorite shampoo, all those spices they brought back from Italy. They turn to take a saute pan off the wall and that motion is no longer worth anything. The wall and that pan are gone. They look up to see the framed photo of the kids when they were in the pool at their parents house, but nothing is there, the photo is gone, the wall where it was hanging is ash. The house is ash.
Jenn said today in answer to a question from me: "Just buy Liz something. She has nothing now." I had not thought of that word and that meaning. Nothing. Not a thing. Nothing of her life from before October 8 exists anymore except her husband and her daughter and they are so glad to be alive.
Today I spent 4 hours researching what Liz's family paid for things in the house that no longer exists except for ash and rubble. In the end, the family is fine, they have a nice rental house. But think about it: it's getting cold, you open that familiar drawer and pull out a scarf, you open a different drawer and pull out warm socks, you take your Le Creuset cast iron casserole and set it to warm so you can make soup, you glance up and see that painting you bought in Bruges for a couple of dollars 20 years ago. But all of that is just memory. None of that exists now. You have no scarf right now or warm socks or a cast iron casserole, a painting. It's all memory. But as Liz said, "you can't think about it, you have to look away and cry for a while and then look ahead."
Wow. Think about it, close your eyes and think about every single thing being gone. Think about it.
xo.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
The fire: what would you take?
15 seconds: you take nothing but yourself, your kids, your pets, maybe your phone. Shoes on your feet, count it out.... 1, 2, 3 ......15. It's not enough time to think about anything except the flames and the heat and the sirens and your kids, your life, what you love. You run. You regret nothing.
15 minutes: the same as above but now you can take your laptop, coats for your kids and shoes, maybe some food for the kids and the dog, a blanket, there's no time to look for papers but you grab your wallet, that jar of cash hidden in the sock drawer that you have been saving for a vacation, the painting your Dad made when you were a kid, it's smaller than a book so easy to carry, some underwear, socks, that's it, time to go, there's your kid's favorite stuffed animal, as you run out the door you grab the blanket on the couch, who knows, it will be cold, maybe and then into the car, thank goodness you have the keys, you drive away. Flames are coming into the backyard of your house, you know you will never see it again like this so you stop the car and you are crying, everyone in the car is crying, for every reason: loss, gratitude, wonder and fear.
30 minutes: it seems like a gift, you think, this bit of time to gather up what might be the remainders of your life. Your family has clothes and blankets and coats and the dog and the cat and they are all in the car, waiting for you. What should you take? You have your passport, your wallet with the small amount of stashed cash you always thought would be your escape hatch, you have that box of your Mom's jewelry which is probably worth nothing but it's easy to carry. This is the home you have lived in for 20 years and yet there is so little to grab. Flames are across the street, you can hear voices from the car, your family needs you now, you have to run. Shoes? Are you wearing them? A coat? Oh, yeah, OK. You aren't afraid, you are calm. Part of you wants to stay and see what happens but you know what will happen if you stay and while part of you wants to stay and watch, now it's no longer about you, it's about others. You run to the car and you speed away, there are flames everywhere and everyone but you is crying. You think: there will be nothing left, and you are fine with that. You are fine with that. You drive your family away and you are fine with that. You have your family, you have yourself. You are alive. You are fine.
We Californians know how to pack for an earthquake, to take food, water, flashlight, identification, etc. What we would take in a fire is completely different.
What would you take? Given 15 minutes or 30? Think about it.
xo
.
15 minutes: the same as above but now you can take your laptop, coats for your kids and shoes, maybe some food for the kids and the dog, a blanket, there's no time to look for papers but you grab your wallet, that jar of cash hidden in the sock drawer that you have been saving for a vacation, the painting your Dad made when you were a kid, it's smaller than a book so easy to carry, some underwear, socks, that's it, time to go, there's your kid's favorite stuffed animal, as you run out the door you grab the blanket on the couch, who knows, it will be cold, maybe and then into the car, thank goodness you have the keys, you drive away. Flames are coming into the backyard of your house, you know you will never see it again like this so you stop the car and you are crying, everyone in the car is crying, for every reason: loss, gratitude, wonder and fear.
30 minutes: it seems like a gift, you think, this bit of time to gather up what might be the remainders of your life. Your family has clothes and blankets and coats and the dog and the cat and they are all in the car, waiting for you. What should you take? You have your passport, your wallet with the small amount of stashed cash you always thought would be your escape hatch, you have that box of your Mom's jewelry which is probably worth nothing but it's easy to carry. This is the home you have lived in for 20 years and yet there is so little to grab. Flames are across the street, you can hear voices from the car, your family needs you now, you have to run. Shoes? Are you wearing them? A coat? Oh, yeah, OK. You aren't afraid, you are calm. Part of you wants to stay and see what happens but you know what will happen if you stay and while part of you wants to stay and watch, now it's no longer about you, it's about others. You run to the car and you speed away, there are flames everywhere and everyone but you is crying. You think: there will be nothing left, and you are fine with that. You are fine with that. You drive your family away and you are fine with that. You have your family, you have yourself. You are alive. You are fine.
We Californians know how to pack for an earthquake, to take food, water, flashlight, identification, etc. What we would take in a fire is completely different.
What would you take? Given 15 minutes or 30? Think about it.
xo
.
Friday, October 20, 2017
Video on the fire from Monday morning, pre-dawn hours
I sent this to some people yesterday. Some firefighters were dispatched from Berkeley to Santa Rosa in the wee hours of Monday morning, October 9. This video shows the Coffey Park fire and other parts of the fire, but what makes it the best video I've seen is the immediacy of the fire and their reactions to it. Watch it. Keep in mind that the K-Mart that burned was about two miles from where I live. Coffey Park is about three miles from my 'hood. Had the winds changed course and had they become southern winds, my neighborhood would have been a duplicate of Coffey Park, as would most of central Santa Rosa.
Here it is: http://www.pressdemocrat.com/news/7538730-181/dramatic-video-shows-arriving-berkeley
Here it is: http://www.pressdemocrat.com/news/7538730-181/dramatic-video-shows-arriving-berkeley
Return to home for many = ashes
This morning I drove to Bottle Barn (perilously low on bourbon) and one of the roads that leads to BB is Airway Drive. Airway is one of the streets leading to the Coffey Park neighborhood that burned in the early hours of Monday morning, October 9.
Today was the first time residents could get into the neighborhood and see what, if anything, remained of their homes. In order to get in, one needed proof of residency in that area, so no gawkers were allowed past the checkpoint. They started letting people in at 10:00 a.m. I was on a side street that didn't go all the way through to Coffey Park, so getting to BB was a snap. But on the way out I came back on Airway because there's a traffic light there and it makes it a lot easier to exit that industrial area. Already, at 10:30 this morning, there were hundreds of people on the two access roads, waiting in their cars, barely moving, inching north towards the burned areas. I was driving south and it was impossible to not notice the grim looks on those drivers' faces. I just heard on the radio that the lines of cars now, at 3:00 p.m., stretch for blocks and blocks, possibly for miles.
Imagine it: you are 100% sure your home and everything you owned have been reduced to ash and yet you are 100% compelled to return to that home and experience that sorrow first hand. The grief is now even more real than it has been for the past 11 days. You have masks and gloves because you know there are particles in the ash and in that air that you do not want in your lungs or on your skin. No street signs exist, it's difficult to find the street you lived on but you find it because police have written the names of the streets on pieces of cardboard, or they have spray painted them on a curb that remains. So little remains, you are amazed/shocked by the devastation that you, like everyone, have only seen on video.
Then what? Do you look to see if some tiny scrap of your life from October 8 still remains? Do you cry, do you curse, do you take photos? Or do you just get back in your vehicle and drive away? Any small relic remaining might be too painful to keep but at the same time it might be too precious, memory-wise, to leave behind.
I, for one, can try to imagine the feelings but I cannot fathom their reality. The sadness must be overwhelming but it is coupled with the anguished gratitude that you and your family are still alive.
It will be a weekend of sorrow and acceptance for all those people who lived in that neighborhood. Please keep a kind thought for all of them. And bottom line, be kind, be kind to anyone you interact with. Give money to the organizations who are helping the fire survivors who are in need.
.
Today was the first time residents could get into the neighborhood and see what, if anything, remained of their homes. In order to get in, one needed proof of residency in that area, so no gawkers were allowed past the checkpoint. They started letting people in at 10:00 a.m. I was on a side street that didn't go all the way through to Coffey Park, so getting to BB was a snap. But on the way out I came back on Airway because there's a traffic light there and it makes it a lot easier to exit that industrial area. Already, at 10:30 this morning, there were hundreds of people on the two access roads, waiting in their cars, barely moving, inching north towards the burned areas. I was driving south and it was impossible to not notice the grim looks on those drivers' faces. I just heard on the radio that the lines of cars now, at 3:00 p.m., stretch for blocks and blocks, possibly for miles.
Imagine it: you are 100% sure your home and everything you owned have been reduced to ash and yet you are 100% compelled to return to that home and experience that sorrow first hand. The grief is now even more real than it has been for the past 11 days. You have masks and gloves because you know there are particles in the ash and in that air that you do not want in your lungs or on your skin. No street signs exist, it's difficult to find the street you lived on but you find it because police have written the names of the streets on pieces of cardboard, or they have spray painted them on a curb that remains. So little remains, you are amazed/shocked by the devastation that you, like everyone, have only seen on video.
Then what? Do you look to see if some tiny scrap of your life from October 8 still remains? Do you cry, do you curse, do you take photos? Or do you just get back in your vehicle and drive away? Any small relic remaining might be too painful to keep but at the same time it might be too precious, memory-wise, to leave behind.
I, for one, can try to imagine the feelings but I cannot fathom their reality. The sadness must be overwhelming but it is coupled with the anguished gratitude that you and your family are still alive.
It will be a weekend of sorrow and acceptance for all those people who lived in that neighborhood. Please keep a kind thought for all of them. And bottom line, be kind, be kind to anyone you interact with. Give money to the organizations who are helping the fire survivors who are in need.
.
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
Day 10 of the fire
Who would have thought a fire would last this long? But then, who would have imagined a fire that could take out more than a thousand homes in a couple of hours?
Day ten, brother Steve can finally be in his house tonight, safely. He has water and power, the air is relatively clear, it's a day to sit on the porch and toast the fates that his house made it through unscathed. There are thousands who still cannot get to their homes or to where their homes once stood. Thousands still in shelters. And thousands who are going to have a long, hard road back, no homes, no jobs, for many, nothing left of the life they knew on Sunday afternoon, October 8.
Even for those of us who lost nothing except some sleep, it's been unsettling (duh, to put it mildly) and physically confusing. "Why am I so tired, I did so little today?" One moment you feel so lucky and so comforted by your own bed and five minutes later you have to pull over to the side of the road because you can't see to drive with all those tears streaming out of your eyes. You have no appetite but you want to eat a pint of ice cream and then you want someone to make you spaghetti and meatballs, which you don't even like. You want to cook for someone (lucky I had Steve to fulfill that need) and then you want someone to cook for you (and I had a family of people who wanted to feed us.) It's so _______ fill in the blank. Actually, fill in the many blanks. How you feel, how you think (or can't), how sad you are for the people you know and the thousands you don't, how relieved, exhausted, guilty, alive, zombie-like, dull, aware, and overwhelmed. So many blanks, so many adjectives and adverbs and some words that probably haven't even been invented yet.
Plus, thinking about all those who are dealing with the loss of everything. I sat in the Honda dealership today to remedy a recall on my car and there were a lot of people buying cars! At first I thought "How can you buy a car at a time like this?" and then I thought "Oh, if your car was melted in the fire, of course you will buy a new car because you need one." Maybe that wasn't the case, but maybe it was. It's probably just one more element in the ongoing slog to try to get back to a point where you can move forward.
I have little (or no) work now, but I have time. I have signed up with the Redwood Empire Food Bank to help organize food products in their warehouse. It's an ongoing organization, so it's not only for the evacuees but for anyone who needs food. I will try and sign up for other volunteer positions as well. The local businesses and restaurants and retail places have been very generous so far and I hope that continues. Santa Rosa JC is giving out free boxed dinners tonight, to anyone, even if you aren't a firefighter or an evacuee, even if you are just tired and need someone to cook for you. Generosity prevails.
Again, anyone who reads this blog, please give something. Redwood Credit Union is handling tons of donations and they are charging no administration fee, all the money goes to those who need it. Even $25 makes a difference. If you read this, it means you have a computer or a phone, it means you have power. It means you can give $25. Here's the story. https://www.cuinsight.com/press-release/redwood-credit-union-creates-north-bay-fire-relief-fund
If you can't access that, let me know and I can make sure you can give something. Give some money to the Redwood Empire Food Bank, you can donate online. Buy some gift cards (or just one) to Safeway or Target or anyplace someone can buy food or clothes. Send them to the Santa Rosa Fire Department, you can google them for the address.
OK, that's all for now. Thank you for helping Sonoma County and thank you for reading this blog. Be thankful and happy you are whole. Be kind.
xo
.
Day ten, brother Steve can finally be in his house tonight, safely. He has water and power, the air is relatively clear, it's a day to sit on the porch and toast the fates that his house made it through unscathed. There are thousands who still cannot get to their homes or to where their homes once stood. Thousands still in shelters. And thousands who are going to have a long, hard road back, no homes, no jobs, for many, nothing left of the life they knew on Sunday afternoon, October 8.
Even for those of us who lost nothing except some sleep, it's been unsettling (duh, to put it mildly) and physically confusing. "Why am I so tired, I did so little today?" One moment you feel so lucky and so comforted by your own bed and five minutes later you have to pull over to the side of the road because you can't see to drive with all those tears streaming out of your eyes. You have no appetite but you want to eat a pint of ice cream and then you want someone to make you spaghetti and meatballs, which you don't even like. You want to cook for someone (lucky I had Steve to fulfill that need) and then you want someone to cook for you (and I had a family of people who wanted to feed us.) It's so _______ fill in the blank. Actually, fill in the many blanks. How you feel, how you think (or can't), how sad you are for the people you know and the thousands you don't, how relieved, exhausted, guilty, alive, zombie-like, dull, aware, and overwhelmed. So many blanks, so many adjectives and adverbs and some words that probably haven't even been invented yet.
Plus, thinking about all those who are dealing with the loss of everything. I sat in the Honda dealership today to remedy a recall on my car and there were a lot of people buying cars! At first I thought "How can you buy a car at a time like this?" and then I thought "Oh, if your car was melted in the fire, of course you will buy a new car because you need one." Maybe that wasn't the case, but maybe it was. It's probably just one more element in the ongoing slog to try to get back to a point where you can move forward.
I have little (or no) work now, but I have time. I have signed up with the Redwood Empire Food Bank to help organize food products in their warehouse. It's an ongoing organization, so it's not only for the evacuees but for anyone who needs food. I will try and sign up for other volunteer positions as well. The local businesses and restaurants and retail places have been very generous so far and I hope that continues. Santa Rosa JC is giving out free boxed dinners tonight, to anyone, even if you aren't a firefighter or an evacuee, even if you are just tired and need someone to cook for you. Generosity prevails.
Again, anyone who reads this blog, please give something. Redwood Credit Union is handling tons of donations and they are charging no administration fee, all the money goes to those who need it. Even $25 makes a difference. If you read this, it means you have a computer or a phone, it means you have power. It means you can give $25. Here's the story. https://www.cuinsight.com/press-release/redwood-credit-union-creates-north-bay-fire-relief-fund
If you can't access that, let me know and I can make sure you can give something. Give some money to the Redwood Empire Food Bank, you can donate online. Buy some gift cards (or just one) to Safeway or Target or anyplace someone can buy food or clothes. Send them to the Santa Rosa Fire Department, you can google them for the address.
OK, that's all for now. Thank you for helping Sonoma County and thank you for reading this blog. Be thankful and happy you are whole. Be kind.
xo
.
Monday, October 16, 2017
And on another note: "The Meyerowitz Stories" on Netflix
I refuse to say something like "in the midst of tragedy one needs to laugh" or anything like that. It would diminish the sorrow, the unbelievable devastation that Sonoma County has experienced.
But last night Steve and I needed to watch something, and this is on Netflix right now and it is very funny, very worth watching. Dustin Hoffman, Adam Sandler, Ben Stiller, Emma Thompson and several other wonderful actors bring us this very clear picture of an incredibly dysfunctional family, one we have seen over and over but not quite like this. To say that "The Meyerowitz Stories" is quirky is to call POTUS stupid or to call Bill Maher slightly opinionated. This is like a Woody Allen film on steroids, dialogue-wise. But it is very fun to watch and we highly recommend it.
Three adult children of a totally self-absorbed artist father try to make sense of their father at this random point in his old age. He doesn't listen to anything they say, he only talks about his greatness and how he has been overlooked in the art world and then, wait! There's a brain trauma that threatens the old man's life! Given what a total dick he has been to his kids, it's not quite clear if that is a good thing or a bad thing.
There are many true, honest and uncomfortable moments in this movie, and I loved every character even when I didn't like them. It has heart but it isn't at all schmaltzy. It might bring a tear or two but you don't feel manipulated when those tears arrive, you almost identify with their origin. Sadler and Stiller are great but pay attention to the sister Jean, she is key to so much but in a quiet, dead-pan way. Dustin Hoffman is off the chart as an egotistical father, in a way that only he can be. I can't think of anyone better suited to this role than Hoffman.
Despite the fire, despite the feeling of inadequacy and vulnerability and impotence in the face of this fire, this movie took us out of our angst for 90 minutes. Let it do that for you as well.
Enjoy!
.
But last night Steve and I needed to watch something, and this is on Netflix right now and it is very funny, very worth watching. Dustin Hoffman, Adam Sandler, Ben Stiller, Emma Thompson and several other wonderful actors bring us this very clear picture of an incredibly dysfunctional family, one we have seen over and over but not quite like this. To say that "The Meyerowitz Stories" is quirky is to call POTUS stupid or to call Bill Maher slightly opinionated. This is like a Woody Allen film on steroids, dialogue-wise. But it is very fun to watch and we highly recommend it.
Three adult children of a totally self-absorbed artist father try to make sense of their father at this random point in his old age. He doesn't listen to anything they say, he only talks about his greatness and how he has been overlooked in the art world and then, wait! There's a brain trauma that threatens the old man's life! Given what a total dick he has been to his kids, it's not quite clear if that is a good thing or a bad thing.
There are many true, honest and uncomfortable moments in this movie, and I loved every character even when I didn't like them. It has heart but it isn't at all schmaltzy. It might bring a tear or two but you don't feel manipulated when those tears arrive, you almost identify with their origin. Sadler and Stiller are great but pay attention to the sister Jean, she is key to so much but in a quiet, dead-pan way. Dustin Hoffman is off the chart as an egotistical father, in a way that only he can be. I can't think of anyone better suited to this role than Hoffman.
Despite the fire, despite the feeling of inadequacy and vulnerability and impotence in the face of this fire, this movie took us out of our angst for 90 minutes. Let it do that for you as well.
Enjoy!
.
More on the fire
First the personal update. Steve was finally able to get back into Kenwood today and his house is fine. There is no power or water, but the house and his small vineyard still stand. He was planning on spending the night, decided that it was going to be too cold, dark and waterless, but when he tried to leave he was told he could not. Thus, he is now the opposite of evacuated.
Today I drove past some of the burned areas here in Santa Rosa. It is one thing to see the devastation on the evening news and in newspaper photos. It is an entirely different experience to see it first hand. The Journey's End mobile home park, which has been shown over and over, is completely gone except for what appeared to be about 8 trailers. I only saw it as I drove past, but the metal from the trailers must have melted because there is nothing there but gray ash. All I could say, in the car by myself, was "oh my god" out loud, over and over. Also from 101 you can see the edge of the Coffey Park neighborhood, nothing is left. The Hilton Hotel, once sitting high on a hill overlooking the Equus Restaurant, is nothing but burnt timbers. Next to it are scorched hillsides and a few buildings still standing but scorched as well. Random buildings gone. Outside one gun store that burned to the ground stood a huge stuffed grizzly bear, still intact. Next to that gun store was a tire store, doing a brisk business, not harmed at all.
As I mentioned before, the effects are going be enormous, physically, mentally, jobwise, housing, lifestyles. Life in Sonoma is going to be changed forever. For everyone.
.
Today I drove past some of the burned areas here in Santa Rosa. It is one thing to see the devastation on the evening news and in newspaper photos. It is an entirely different experience to see it first hand. The Journey's End mobile home park, which has been shown over and over, is completely gone except for what appeared to be about 8 trailers. I only saw it as I drove past, but the metal from the trailers must have melted because there is nothing there but gray ash. All I could say, in the car by myself, was "oh my god" out loud, over and over. Also from 101 you can see the edge of the Coffey Park neighborhood, nothing is left. The Hilton Hotel, once sitting high on a hill overlooking the Equus Restaurant, is nothing but burnt timbers. Next to it are scorched hillsides and a few buildings still standing but scorched as well. Random buildings gone. Outside one gun store that burned to the ground stood a huge stuffed grizzly bear, still intact. Next to that gun store was a tire store, doing a brisk business, not harmed at all.
As I mentioned before, the effects are going be enormous, physically, mentally, jobwise, housing, lifestyles. Life in Sonoma is going to be changed forever. For everyone.
.
Thursday, October 12, 2017
The fire
Monday morning, 1:05 a.m., Steve rang my doorbell, having just been evacuated from his house in Kenwood. I was asleep, of course, knew nothing of the fire but we spent the next hour or so trying to find information online. We found enough to be very worried. I was up again that morning at 5:45, planning on going to work out at the coast. Showered and headed out to walk the dogs around the block before I drove to Pt. Reyes.
The air was already toxic, so smokey. Walking down Mendocino Avenue, we could see flames shooting high into the air, and even from my block we could see huge flames. It was shocking and terrifying. Came back, found radio news and more online, the fire was at Kaiser Hospital, about a mile from my house. The evacuation zone was three blocks from my house, so I just was outside that zone. (Needless to say, I did not go to work.)
The air got worse and worse, the news worse and worse, the fire simply expanded over more and more acres. At 10:30 Steve snuck back to Kenwood, using backroads, and his house was, at that time, still standing. Driving out of there, however, he drove through roads with fire on both sides. He met me in Petaluma at our friends Stacey and Ben's house, where we spend the next two nights. We went to Santa Rosa on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, just to check on my place, and yesterday you simply could not breathe the air for more than a few minutes without a mask. The visibility was about one block. There is no way I was willing to stay in that atmosphere, so Steve and I drove to Gabe and Annie's in Daly City. We are here now and will be for another night at least.
Steve can't get back to Kenwood, probably won't be able to for another three or four days at least. I won't be able to be in my Santa Rosa place until the winds shift and some of the smoke and particles are gone. But we have such good friends and family, we have places to stay and we are safe.
There is no way to describe this situation, so I won't try to other to say it is unbelievable and almost incomprehensible. I know so many people who have lost everything except what they carried as they had to run from their homes. The situation in Sonoma County is catastrophic in so many ways.
This is the fourth day and it begins to wear on your body as well as your mind. Shaky, nervous, anxious, on edge. But again, we are safe and whole and so many thousands are not.
Give money to any charity that is servicing Sonoma and Napa areas, they will need blankets, clothes, so much in the coming weeks. They do not need goods, they need to be able to go out and buy what individuals require, especially since many are going to be in shelters for more than a few days.
More to you all when I can. Thank you to everyone for your concerned thoughts. Knowing people are out there thinking of us and thinking of all who are affected is such a comfort.
much love....
The air was already toxic, so smokey. Walking down Mendocino Avenue, we could see flames shooting high into the air, and even from my block we could see huge flames. It was shocking and terrifying. Came back, found radio news and more online, the fire was at Kaiser Hospital, about a mile from my house. The evacuation zone was three blocks from my house, so I just was outside that zone. (Needless to say, I did not go to work.)
The air got worse and worse, the news worse and worse, the fire simply expanded over more and more acres. At 10:30 Steve snuck back to Kenwood, using backroads, and his house was, at that time, still standing. Driving out of there, however, he drove through roads with fire on both sides. He met me in Petaluma at our friends Stacey and Ben's house, where we spend the next two nights. We went to Santa Rosa on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, just to check on my place, and yesterday you simply could not breathe the air for more than a few minutes without a mask. The visibility was about one block. There is no way I was willing to stay in that atmosphere, so Steve and I drove to Gabe and Annie's in Daly City. We are here now and will be for another night at least.
Steve can't get back to Kenwood, probably won't be able to for another three or four days at least. I won't be able to be in my Santa Rosa place until the winds shift and some of the smoke and particles are gone. But we have such good friends and family, we have places to stay and we are safe.
There is no way to describe this situation, so I won't try to other to say it is unbelievable and almost incomprehensible. I know so many people who have lost everything except what they carried as they had to run from their homes. The situation in Sonoma County is catastrophic in so many ways.
This is the fourth day and it begins to wear on your body as well as your mind. Shaky, nervous, anxious, on edge. But again, we are safe and whole and so many thousands are not.
Give money to any charity that is servicing Sonoma and Napa areas, they will need blankets, clothes, so much in the coming weeks. They do not need goods, they need to be able to go out and buy what individuals require, especially since many are going to be in shelters for more than a few days.
More to you all when I can. Thank you to everyone for your concerned thoughts. Knowing people are out there thinking of us and thinking of all who are affected is such a comfort.
much love....
Friday, October 6, 2017
Thursday, October 5, 2017
I don't want to talk about the guns.
Nicolas Kristoff, a columnist for the New York Times, wrote this, and you should read it, but you probably already have. You can copy and paste the link, or if you go to nyt.com and click on Columnists at the very top bar, then on Kristoff, you can find it.
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/02/opinion/mass-shooting-vegas.html?rref=collection%2Fcolumn%2Fnicholas-kristof&action=click&contentCollection=opinion®ion=stream&module=stream_unit&version=latest&contentPlacement=3&pgtype=collection&_r=0
One thing he says, and I followed up on it to see if it was true, it was fact checked by an independent source, is this: Since 1970, more Americans have died from guns (including suicides, murders and accidents) than the sum total of all the Americans who died in all the ward in American history, back to the American Revolution.
That includes the Civil War.
That is astonishing. And that is horrific. Talking to my brother Jeff today, we both agreed that there are no words to convey what we feel right now about the situation in the US relative to the atrocious deaths in Las Vegas. Jeff said, to sum up, that he just does not feel safe anymore. I agree. I go to a concert, a baseball game, a gathering on a town square, I ride BART or am stuck in traffic on the Golden Gate Bridge and I know I am an easy target for ANYONE with a gun or a bomb or a loaded car. I never thought about this before, even in the fifteen years after 9/11. I think about it a lot now, when I am in a vulnerable place. And unless you live in the country, unless you live in a bubble and don't venture out into the real world, every place is a vulnerable place. When you add in the threat from North Korea, which our POTUS seems to encourage, the entire West Coast is vulnerable.
No answers here. No safe words from me. No shelter from worrying, from feeling on edge. I am afraid for my friends who have children, what legacy will be left for them. I am glad my Mom is gone.... society was getting pretty nasty for her because she watched the news and read the paper, and it would only make her sadder and sadder, as it does me.
Guns, the regulation of them and their control, it will not change easily. We must all stand up, do something about it. I just don't know, yet, what that is.
.
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/02/opinion/mass-shooting-vegas.html?rref=collection%2Fcolumn%2Fnicholas-kristof&action=click&contentCollection=opinion®ion=stream&module=stream_unit&version=latest&contentPlacement=3&pgtype=collection&_r=0
One thing he says, and I followed up on it to see if it was true, it was fact checked by an independent source, is this: Since 1970, more Americans have died from guns (including suicides, murders and accidents) than the sum total of all the Americans who died in all the ward in American history, back to the American Revolution.
That includes the Civil War.
That is astonishing. And that is horrific. Talking to my brother Jeff today, we both agreed that there are no words to convey what we feel right now about the situation in the US relative to the atrocious deaths in Las Vegas. Jeff said, to sum up, that he just does not feel safe anymore. I agree. I go to a concert, a baseball game, a gathering on a town square, I ride BART or am stuck in traffic on the Golden Gate Bridge and I know I am an easy target for ANYONE with a gun or a bomb or a loaded car. I never thought about this before, even in the fifteen years after 9/11. I think about it a lot now, when I am in a vulnerable place. And unless you live in the country, unless you live in a bubble and don't venture out into the real world, every place is a vulnerable place. When you add in the threat from North Korea, which our POTUS seems to encourage, the entire West Coast is vulnerable.
No answers here. No safe words from me. No shelter from worrying, from feeling on edge. I am afraid for my friends who have children, what legacy will be left for them. I am glad my Mom is gone.... society was getting pretty nasty for her because she watched the news and read the paper, and it would only make her sadder and sadder, as it does me.
Guns, the regulation of them and their control, it will not change easily. We must all stand up, do something about it. I just don't know, yet, what that is.
.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
Those boys. Those boys who are 5 and 7. Those boys who introduced me to some DUDE show which I liked!!!!
All I can say right now is that I wish I had photos. Sam and Henry, the grandsons of my heart, had me over on Friday to watch them, although they need small watching now. Now they just need guidance so they:
1) Do not cheat at the game SORRY.
2) Wash their hands after peeing.
3) Do not lie about the rules of SORRY.
4) Introduce me to a new TV show called something like "Cool Dudes" or something else but I really liked it!
5) Show me that there is a remarkable dessert thing where you peel back the cellophane and then dip Oreos into some magical white dipping sauce that calms them for minutes.
6) Are enough grown-up that they are willing to go to bed without the light on in their room that I did not know how to light. (It was tricky.) Duh on my part, but by then, more than two SORRY games and several "DUDE" shows under their belts, they fell asleep in about 90 seconds.
These boys. These remarkable boys. I cannot tell you how much I love them and how cool Sam and Henry are. It's been some time since my kids were 5 and 7. I have forgotten, but have quickly been reminded, about their mental acuity which rivals mine at times. I know that when Jenn and Gabe were the same ages, people remarked on how verbal they were because John and I talked to them like they were people. Duh, they were people. (Well, yes, they still are, and we still talk to them as if they were adults. Go figure.) Sam and Henry, the same. Stacey and Ben talk to them with the same tone and vocabulary that they talk to anyone and it shows. I loved that Henry wanted to change the rules of SORRY, and that Sam rolled his eyes when I looked up that rule change in the printed Rule Book. I can't call it 'babysitting' because they aren't babies. They are people. I am simply minding them and their manners for a couple of hours. Bring It On! Sam and Henry are my kin.
OK. That's enough. Those boys. I will know them forever and love them longer than that.
xo
,
1) Do not cheat at the game SORRY.
2) Wash their hands after peeing.
3) Do not lie about the rules of SORRY.
4) Introduce me to a new TV show called something like "Cool Dudes" or something else but I really liked it!
5) Show me that there is a remarkable dessert thing where you peel back the cellophane and then dip Oreos into some magical white dipping sauce that calms them for minutes.
6) Are enough grown-up that they are willing to go to bed without the light on in their room that I did not know how to light. (It was tricky.) Duh on my part, but by then, more than two SORRY games and several "DUDE" shows under their belts, they fell asleep in about 90 seconds.
These boys. These remarkable boys. I cannot tell you how much I love them and how cool Sam and Henry are. It's been some time since my kids were 5 and 7. I have forgotten, but have quickly been reminded, about their mental acuity which rivals mine at times. I know that when Jenn and Gabe were the same ages, people remarked on how verbal they were because John and I talked to them like they were people. Duh, they were people. (Well, yes, they still are, and we still talk to them as if they were adults. Go figure.) Sam and Henry, the same. Stacey and Ben talk to them with the same tone and vocabulary that they talk to anyone and it shows. I loved that Henry wanted to change the rules of SORRY, and that Sam rolled his eyes when I looked up that rule change in the printed Rule Book. I can't call it 'babysitting' because they aren't babies. They are people. I am simply minding them and their manners for a couple of hours. Bring It On! Sam and Henry are my kin.
OK. That's enough. Those boys. I will know them forever and love them longer than that.
xo
,
"Oh, I have always wanted to own a B&B! How did you become an innkeeper?!!!"
Seriously? People still ask this shit stupid question? Yes, people still ask this stupid question. My response:
Pause two seconds. Smile. "Well. Some career choices you pick, some are thrust upon you. This was one of those! (Always with exclamation!)
Oh, you must love your job! How did you get into this?
I was desperate and sleeping in my car, the job was available, I took it. I was here, the job was available, and here I am!
What do you think we should do today?
Pause two seconds. Thinking this: go back to your room and digest your breakfast then fuck your wife/husband/mate. That would be unique! Then drive your car to that cliff near the ocean, rev up the engine and put your foot on that accelerator and just glide over the embankment, feel the air slide over you and then plummet to the rocky beach below.
You could read, you could hike, go wine tasting, take a drive, shop, eat more carbs, check each other for head lice, (I don't actually say that last part) or just lollygag for a day.
Oh, you live here, what would you do if you had a day to .... just explore? Where would you go?
I would drive as far away from here as I could. I would never come back. I would see the world, go to Montana again, to the Dakotas, off to Europe, to Tokyo.
You should decide for yourselves what you like and then just do it! It's your vacation, after all and here is a map from the National Seashore visitor center. You could go there! And I don't get a vacation, you sorry fuck, so don't ask me how to spend your rich leisure time, I am on unemployment in three weeks and you will have erased this experience from your mind by then, unless you get food poisoning while you are visiting our quaint local food purveyors.
And where should we eat dinner tonight? What's your favorite restaurant out here?
Pause two seconds and consider the food poisoning option. It is a real option and I am tempted but no, I don't hate these peeps. You know, I don't eat out much because all the restaurants cater to tourists and they mostly serve decent food. overpriced, under seasoned bland food that I am tired of. But if you really want a recommendation, there's a great Mexican food truck you should try......
And their eyes glaze over. Or the ........... is great, you will love it, great menu, full bar, you might have to wait a bit because it is so popular but it will be worth it!
Is there any local entertainment we shouldn't miss?
Oh, yes, I think. Blow jobs in back of the local bar are a thing not to miss. Blow in the bathroom of the same bar is still a happening activity. Weed everywhere and some Oxy too, if that's your choice!
Well, depending on the time and the day, sometimes the ......has a live band and so does the local bar. Just venture out and see what you can find!
Thank you, that is so helpful! We will see you in the morning and we can tell you about our great adventures!
Pause two seconds. Smile. Say nothing but think: GREAT! I CAN HARDLY WAIT! Unless I have stabbed myself in the heart before then, I will be here, making breakfast. It's like making pies. Just making pies.
5:00 am
Here I am
Walking the block to Table Top
You could cry or die
Or just make pies all day
I'm making pies
Making pies
Thank you to Patti Griffin for "Making Pies" (and to Martha for the song) and thanks to those of you out there who read this blog and understand that Making Pies is just a metaphor in some ways. (When I listen to that song, I always cry, so maybe it's more than a metaphor, it is closer to real life.) I don't know who you are, you blog readers, but when I look at the log of how many people read it, sometimes there are 30 or 40. It's amazing. Tell your friends, and tell me if you want me to write about anything else, other than my small life, my movies, books, food, friends, life, angst, etc.
xo.
.
Pause two seconds. Smile. "Well. Some career choices you pick, some are thrust upon you. This was one of those! (Always with exclamation!)
Oh, you must love your job! How did you get into this?
I was desperate and sleeping in my car, the job was available, I took it. I was here, the job was available, and here I am!
What do you think we should do today?
Pause two seconds. Thinking this: go back to your room and digest your breakfast then fuck your wife/husband/mate. That would be unique! Then drive your car to that cliff near the ocean, rev up the engine and put your foot on that accelerator and just glide over the embankment, feel the air slide over you and then plummet to the rocky beach below.
You could read, you could hike, go wine tasting, take a drive, shop, eat more carbs, check each other for head lice, (I don't actually say that last part) or just lollygag for a day.
Oh, you live here, what would you do if you had a day to .... just explore? Where would you go?
I would drive as far away from here as I could. I would never come back. I would see the world, go to Montana again, to the Dakotas, off to Europe, to Tokyo.
You should decide for yourselves what you like and then just do it! It's your vacation, after all and here is a map from the National Seashore visitor center. You could go there! And I don't get a vacation, you sorry fuck, so don't ask me how to spend your rich leisure time, I am on unemployment in three weeks and you will have erased this experience from your mind by then, unless you get food poisoning while you are visiting our quaint local food purveyors.
And where should we eat dinner tonight? What's your favorite restaurant out here?
Pause two seconds and consider the food poisoning option. It is a real option and I am tempted but no, I don't hate these peeps. You know, I don't eat out much because all the restaurants cater to tourists and they mostly serve decent food. overpriced, under seasoned bland food that I am tired of. But if you really want a recommendation, there's a great Mexican food truck you should try......
And their eyes glaze over. Or the ........... is great, you will love it, great menu, full bar, you might have to wait a bit because it is so popular but it will be worth it!
Is there any local entertainment we shouldn't miss?
Oh, yes, I think. Blow jobs in back of the local bar are a thing not to miss. Blow in the bathroom of the same bar is still a happening activity. Weed everywhere and some Oxy too, if that's your choice!
Well, depending on the time and the day, sometimes the ......has a live band and so does the local bar. Just venture out and see what you can find!
Thank you, that is so helpful! We will see you in the morning and we can tell you about our great adventures!
Pause two seconds. Smile. Say nothing but think: GREAT! I CAN HARDLY WAIT! Unless I have stabbed myself in the heart before then, I will be here, making breakfast. It's like making pies. Just making pies.
5:00 am
Here I am
Walking the block to Table Top
You could cry or die
Or just make pies all day
I'm making pies
Making pies
Thank you to Patti Griffin for "Making Pies" (and to Martha for the song) and thanks to those of you out there who read this blog and understand that Making Pies is just a metaphor in some ways. (When I listen to that song, I always cry, so maybe it's more than a metaphor, it is closer to real life.) I don't know who you are, you blog readers, but when I look at the log of how many people read it, sometimes there are 30 or 40. It's amazing. Tell your friends, and tell me if you want me to write about anything else, other than my small life, my movies, books, food, friends, life, angst, etc.
xo.
.
"The Sisters Chase" by Sarah Healy
A sometimes grim, sometimes amusing book about two sisters, orphaned at a very young age, living and surviving on their own. They are very well defined characters and I liked them, especially Mary's unique and manipulative techniques of getting her own way. Her care of Hannah, 14 years younger, is admirable but in the real world I don't think she could have pulled it off. But hey, this is fiction, and therefore it doesn't need to be true, it just needs to be engaging and readable. This novel has just enough family saga and mystery to keep the reader intrigued and somewhat entertained. It is dark at times, occasionally bordering on sad and depressing, but unlike some novels that feel real, this one always has that "oh wait, it isn't a true story" feel to it so you are engaged enough to continue reading but not enough to get emotionally distraught.
I read this in two days, it's a very easy and quick read. There are some strange plot twists that are not too surprising as they appear, and the end is a bit abrupt and harsh, but it is still a good read. I wouldn't rush out and buy it but this is why libraries were invented, so you can borrow it and then give it back.
I read this in two days, it's a very easy and quick read. There are some strange plot twists that are not too surprising as they appear, and the end is a bit abrupt and harsh, but it is still a good read. I wouldn't rush out and buy it but this is why libraries were invented, so you can borrow it and then give it back.
"My Absolute Darling" by Gabriel Tallent
It isn't often that I finish a book that I wouldn't recommend to a friend. This is one of those times. Tallent is a very good writer, there is no question about that. But this novel is so dark, so depressingly nihilistic and unrelentingly cruel that I would not tell anyone to read it.
However, I did finish it because it is compelling. The young 14-year old protagonist, Turtle, is a mess of a person, ill educated, malnourished, abused, living in poverty, self-hating and hopeless. Gosh, right there, does it make you want to go out and get this book, settle down for a nice cozy read? Nope. But once you start, you do want to know what happens to her and her monster of a father. In fact, you become somewhat compelled to find out, as if you will be letting Turtle down if you don't finish the book.
I felt like I needed a really long shower and a few sessions of therapy once this book ended. I hope Gabriel Tallent continues to write, I just hope the next book has a tiny bit of light in it.
However, I did finish it because it is compelling. The young 14-year old protagonist, Turtle, is a mess of a person, ill educated, malnourished, abused, living in poverty, self-hating and hopeless. Gosh, right there, does it make you want to go out and get this book, settle down for a nice cozy read? Nope. But once you start, you do want to know what happens to her and her monster of a father. In fact, you become somewhat compelled to find out, as if you will be letting Turtle down if you don't finish the book.
I felt like I needed a really long shower and a few sessions of therapy once this book ended. I hope Gabriel Tallent continues to write, I just hope the next book has a tiny bit of light in it.
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