ARGHHH!

Today was the first day in weeks that I didn't have to be at the inn to make breakfast so I was looking forward to actually sleeping in past 6:15.  At 5:57 the garage door, which is right next to my bed, was thrown open, waking me up.  Seconds later the washing machine in that garage was turned on.  Now, that washing machine is about 12 inches from my pillow and that is NOT conducive to sleeping in.  Not to mention that being jolted out of sleep is not conducive to falling back asleep.  I bolted up, and swore, loudly.  I reached for the window shade, pulled it up and yelled out the open window "Can you please wait and do laundry later?"  My question was greeted with "Huh?"   Again, I asked "Can you please do laundry later, this is the only day I don't have to get up at 6:00."  The response was "Oh, OK."

Sigh.  Now fully awake, I toyed with the idea of just getting out of bed and getting on with the day.  But I didn't.  I stayed in bed for another hour, not really sleeping but not really awake either.  Too bad, I was looking forward to waking when my body wanted, not when the forces around me insisted.  It appears that next week there is a morning that doesn't require me to be at the inn (unless more bookings come in) so I will be prepared, I will leave a note on the garage and ask them to please do laundry later.

In all fairness, the youngsters in the front house don't normally do laundry at 5:57.  Just today.  Oh well.


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So much to do

At the end of this week my lovely daughter will be in California and that will make everything all better. I am in serious need of a kid fix, so having her and Gabe in the same place at the same time will cure that need.  Hurray!

The memorial for Martha is this coming Saturday.  Who knew there was so much to do?  Not only shopping and cooking food for 100 people, figuring out what to eat and drink and where these people will all fit, but designing and getting printed all sorts of stuff for the service.  My mind is on over-drive, just whizzing around, trying to remember things and not succeeding all the time.  Need to get this thing, can't forget that thing, must tend to that need, must look up some other thing.......  and at the same time working seven days a week at the inn.  I wake up in the middle of the night makings lists of things that I then forget when I get out of bed in the morning. Ah, it will all be over soon. 

I'm not complaining, mind you, just a little overloaded.  People say "is there anything I can do to help?" and I wish I could say "yes, you can take this list here and do everything on it and then call me when you are finished and thank  you so much!"  But with a few friends and my kids at the end of the week, we will punch it out, get it all done and if 50 people show up for the after memorial reception, we will have lots of leftovers.  If 80 show up, we will have plenty of food.  If it gets over 100, well, when the food is gone, it's gone.  We can send someone to the market for bags of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish crackers and call it good.

OK, it's time for Cooper to have his pre-dinner stroll.  Sometimes, yes, he is the boss of me.

Something else

I took the dog for a thirty minute walk this morning and I found a $5 bill!  If that isn't a good sign, I don't know what is.  It would have been an even better sign if it had been a $20 or $100 bill but I am willing to start small, to accept the small signs and hope for bigger ones along the way.

At the inn now, waiting to make breakfast for guests and then I have a meeting with the bosses later this morning.  How exciting is that!  Perhaps a commendation is in store for me! Perhaps not.  But it's something different than my normal day so I am accepting it as another good sign until proven otherwise.

Finally, I might have dinner with my pal Tom this evening and that would be another good thing.  But I might not have dinner with him and that would be OK too. If that's the case, then I will walk into Santa Rosa and check out the Wednesday Farmer's Market and Street Fair that happens in the summer.  So no matter which way the chips fall, my evening will be eventful.

Good things.  Small things. We have to take pleasure in all of them. Sunshine or rain, baked or fried, opened or closed.  As Gabe said, "...the roller coaster continues, but how else are we supposed to enjoy the view."

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Meaning of life?

With the death of my good friend Martha last month, the whole issue of "what happens after you die" has naturally risen to the forefront of my small, wandering mind. Is death really the end?  Is our short time on earth really all there is? Is what makes us who we are extinguished forever? Is there such thing as a soul and does it die as well? 

It's probably wishful thinking but it would be nice to think that the essence of who we are, our soul or spirit or anima, continues on in some fashion.  Maybe it inhabits another physical body and continues to strive for perfection.  Maybe it inhabits another body and continues the work it started while the first body was alive.  Maybe it doesn't inhabit another body but can still influence or affect things that happen here on earth.  Or maybe none of the above. Maybe it doesn't exist. Maybe what  you see is what you get, just a mass of cells and blood and bones. 

But really, who knows?  We can believe anything we want because that's the crucial point: no one knows because everyone who could know is already dead and thus cannot (or will not) communicate with those who are still alive.  Therefore, in my small, wandering brain, it's OK to think that the spirit of Martha is alive somehow, that her goodness is still present in that spirit.  No one can prove otherwise.

Oh, this all sounds so childish and foolish, doesn't it?  Talking about spirits and dead people. 

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"To Rome With Love" movie review

OK, this is the first movie I have seen in a theater in about a year and the last one I saw in a theater that I really liked, loved, was Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris."  Needless to say, I was primed for this movie.  I was ready. I was needy. Alas, I was disappointed.

Rome, in this film, is lovely, beautiful and golden.  Having spent many, many days in Rome, I loved how the city looked in this film.  But that's about it.  I did not love the movie.  However, even a crappy Woody Allen film set in a foreign city has something going for it.  Hmm.... well, not much, but a couple of things.

The character that Alex Baldwin plays is silly, superficial and perhaps exists in another time continuum in the movie, but I still liked him. I loved Penelope Cruz as a blatant hooker with a good sense of reality and, come on, what a gorgeous body!   Everyone else was insipid or stupid or foolish. (Hey, it's my review.)  The stories didn't mesh, nor were they supposed to, but it made for a disjointed, jumpy movie. Woody Allen plays himself, more or less, which isn't a bad thing here, but doesn't add much to the movie. There were characters that drove me to distraction, like the normal guy who suddenly becomes famous, for no reason.  What's that about?  And who cares?  Woody Allen obviously had some hidden meaning there but I didn't get it.

Bottom line, as much as I walked into the theater wanting to love this movie, I didn't.  But I didn't hate it, either.  Mulling it over for the past 24 hours it has grown on me a tiny bit.  It's pleasant, the city of Rome could not look better and a couple of the characters are fun to watch. 

While I sincerely loved "Midnight in Paris" I almost liked this movie. Save it for a rental.  However, if you love Rome as much as I do, it's almost worth it to see this movie on the big screen just to see the city bathed in sunlight and beauty.  Thankfully, Allen doesn't show us a travelogue of Rome, no shots of St. Peter's Square, but there are enough familiar landscapes to make any tourist (or traveler) happy for a few moments.

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Trying

My daughter has re-started her blog and so must I.  However, nothing really seems worth writing about which probably means there is too much to write about. If you know me (and you do if you read this) you know that I am not one for reaching out for help.  It's a Turmes (maiden name) trait.  We just plow through things, making our own way.  In this case, I would be so happy to reach out for help but I fear there is none to be had.  Grief is something you have to go through alone, or with those who are also grieving.

The death of Martha has created a schism in the family as well, which I won't discuss here.  Suffice it to say that this week has been another difficult one.

So, let me try and write about something else.  Two things:  one is "Canada" by Richard Ford.  He is a celebrated writer, has won many awards including the Pulitzer Prize for fiction.  His language is, to me, a dichotomy.  It is spare and simple and yet vast and intricate.  He has this way of taking a situation that is pretty much off the wall and making you, the reader, at first shake your head and just a little later, start nodding your head.  It seems preposterous but then it seems quite understandable.  "Canada" is a strange book, almost a couple of stories in one, but I really liked it.  Check it out.

Second thing is that in the last three weeks I find my attention span to be greatly shortened.  I usually read two or three books a week but lately I either can sit and read for two hours or two minutes.  It's odd. So I have been watching stuff on my TV, streaming things via Netflix through my tiny Roku player since I don't have broadcast TV.  My current fave is "Arrested Development."  I don't know why I didn't dive into this when it first came out because it is  hysterically funny and my kind of sarcastic, dark humor.  What a dysfunctional family!  The mother, talk about an evil, self-centered bitch, but the kids (all grown up, of course) do whatever she tells them to do.  Mostly.  The episodes are only a half hour long, so streamed without commercials they are even shorter.  It's a great way to waste some time when it is too early to go to bed and too late to open another bottle of wine.

Thanks to you all for hanging in there while I took my time getting back to you.


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No words

It has been a long, sad, 12 days and more to come.  Each day gets a little better, a little less teary, a little more accepting but the hole that has been created by Martha's death gets deeper.  I don't have much to say right now but will attempt to write something salient (and not sad) later this weekend.