Quick review of this movie with Annette Bening, one of my favorite actors. It wasn't what I expected. It's touted as a story of a single mother raising her son who is about 15, and she is about 55, and she "enlists the help of two younger women in his upbringing." Well, fine. The two younger women are living out the 1979-1980's lifestyle of lots of sex and little else. Not bad, but that's not really what you want for your 15 year old. Or I guess it could be, but Mom gets a little freaky about it after a while because she was expecting them to provide more thoughtful industry for her young lad. They had other ideas, of course.
This movie is really just about Annette Bening and how amazing she is. Her character, Dorothea, isn't likeable too often, but if you are a fan you don't really care. It is simply so cool to watch her, watch her face, her expressions, her shrugs of derision, her haughty smirks, the vulnerability in her face, how she delivers her lines like a shark one moment and then like a ghost or next time like a purring kitten and then suddenly like a witch. She amazes me. And she has the worst hair and clothes ever but they work, somehow. This movie is a showcase for her and for that reason alone you should watch it.
The really odd thing is that the character that Bening plays is only 4 years younger than my Mom would have been at that time and in absolutely no way is there any resemblance at all. None, zero, zip. My mother in no way was aware of the Woman's Movement, of Feminism, of freedom. At least that's what I remember as a kid. My Mom had six kids by the time she was 37. The movie character has one kid when she is 40. Huge difference. But I was reminded over and over what that meant in terms of how a woman viewed herself then. My Mom didn't have time to view herself. Bening's character had the luxury of worrying about her one child's formative years and wanted to make sure he turned out OK. In many ways, that's just a fairy tale of a life.
Oh, I could go on but I won't. It's a good movie, but I am not sure it's a movie that men would like. But I am not sure it's a movie that a lot of women would like either. I guess it's not a hugely likeable movie, but I did sort of like it while being a bit pissed about it at the same time. I would like to hear someone else's opinion. Anyone????
Bottom line, I loved watching Annette Bening and I would watch her in anything, anytime, so I came into it on the side of positive prejudice in that regard. The rest of the cast is fine, Billy Crudup is great as a hippy sort of handyman fuck buddy, but he is always good. Not as stellar as Bening, however.
OK, enough. Over and out.
Sunday, September 3, 2017
My current journey down the black hole of unemployment
On Tuesday, August 29 I filed online for unemployment, since I no longer work at the Olea Hotel. On Friday, September 1 I received a letter from EDD (the California unemployment office) telling me that they could not confirm my identity, to make sure the Social Security number they listed was mine (it was) and to send them six out of the following ten items of identification. They indicated that perhaps my identity had been compromised.
On Saturday morning, September 2, I took to the the post office the six pieces of identifying items, in the envelope they provided, and mailed it to EDD. That afternoon I received from EDD the notice of my benefits, which are ZERO, and that the earnings from the past year were ZERO, and that my claim for these zero benefits would expire in a year.
Nice. Zero benefits. Now, of course there is something amiss with this. When I filed online I was required to enter my earnings for many quarters of 2016 and for some of 2017. I dutifully did so. Somehow all that information has magically disappeared.
And here's another tricky bit of information: when I filed online, I was also required to enter a user name and a password and an email address. I did, but I had to change the password since it had been 8 years since I filed last. I wrote down the user name and the password because they require you to use numbers, caps, characters and I knew I would not remember all that. I also wrote down my claim number. Today I could not access my account with that user name or password and the system said my email address was not valid.
Sigh. In some fashion I have been hacked or have fallen through the cracks or something. I tried pulling a free credit report but they won't provide it online, and I have no printer and thus no way to print it out. But the questions they asked were very bizarre and I had to answer NO to all of them. In other words, all the questions they asked about credit or bank cards I had ("Did you open a credit card account in June of 2014 with one of these companies?") were not valid.
I will call EDD on Tuesday, of course, and try to get to the library or someplace where I can print out the credit reports and see if someone is using my name and SSN. Maybe that's not the case, maybe it is. I have no idea.
Combined with the End of Days heat we are having, it's no wonder I spent an hour looking at used RVs, fighting the desire to get in a car and just leave.
More to follow. Maybe.
.
On Saturday morning, September 2, I took to the the post office the six pieces of identifying items, in the envelope they provided, and mailed it to EDD. That afternoon I received from EDD the notice of my benefits, which are ZERO, and that the earnings from the past year were ZERO, and that my claim for these zero benefits would expire in a year.
Nice. Zero benefits. Now, of course there is something amiss with this. When I filed online I was required to enter my earnings for many quarters of 2016 and for some of 2017. I dutifully did so. Somehow all that information has magically disappeared.
And here's another tricky bit of information: when I filed online, I was also required to enter a user name and a password and an email address. I did, but I had to change the password since it had been 8 years since I filed last. I wrote down the user name and the password because they require you to use numbers, caps, characters and I knew I would not remember all that. I also wrote down my claim number. Today I could not access my account with that user name or password and the system said my email address was not valid.
Sigh. In some fashion I have been hacked or have fallen through the cracks or something. I tried pulling a free credit report but they won't provide it online, and I have no printer and thus no way to print it out. But the questions they asked were very bizarre and I had to answer NO to all of them. In other words, all the questions they asked about credit or bank cards I had ("Did you open a credit card account in June of 2014 with one of these companies?") were not valid.
I will call EDD on Tuesday, of course, and try to get to the library or someplace where I can print out the credit reports and see if someone is using my name and SSN. Maybe that's not the case, maybe it is. I have no idea.
Combined with the End of Days heat we are having, it's no wonder I spent an hour looking at used RVs, fighting the desire to get in a car and just leave.
More to follow. Maybe.
.
Monday, August 28, 2017
"Little Fires Everywhere" by Celeste Ng
This book will be released in September, so don't be shocked that you haven't heard of it yet. But when it is released, I hope it is to decent praise. Ng's first novel "Everything I Never Told You" was very good and this one is better.
Families, teenagers, angst, cruel intentions, misplaced kindness, unraveled lies, and the inability to right the past wrongs of a life. It's all here and it is done so well. I cried at the end, not because of sadness but because of the beauty of the written words that gave truth to this fiction story, that explained and illustrated the longing and hunger of emotion. And its fulfillment in action and in acceptance.
If you see this novel in the library, or on a sale table, or at the Salvation Army Bookstore, pick it up. It's a book that you will enjoy and even more than that, it's a book that you will enjoy giving to someone, a friend who likes books, who likes good stories and well-defined prose.
"Little Fires Everywhere" is such a great title, but impossible to explain. Suffice it to say that our lives are riddled with small blazes all the time. Scorched at times, we are forced to sweep away the ashes and begin again.
I love reading. This book is one of the reasons. It's not great, but it is so good that greatness doesn't matter. Now and then a book simply moves the reader, and it might not move anyone else. It moved me. It will move one of you.
.
Families, teenagers, angst, cruel intentions, misplaced kindness, unraveled lies, and the inability to right the past wrongs of a life. It's all here and it is done so well. I cried at the end, not because of sadness but because of the beauty of the written words that gave truth to this fiction story, that explained and illustrated the longing and hunger of emotion. And its fulfillment in action and in acceptance.
If you see this novel in the library, or on a sale table, or at the Salvation Army Bookstore, pick it up. It's a book that you will enjoy and even more than that, it's a book that you will enjoy giving to someone, a friend who likes books, who likes good stories and well-defined prose.
"Little Fires Everywhere" is such a great title, but impossible to explain. Suffice it to say that our lives are riddled with small blazes all the time. Scorched at times, we are forced to sweep away the ashes and begin again.
I love reading. This book is one of the reasons. It's not great, but it is so good that greatness doesn't matter. Now and then a book simply moves the reader, and it might not move anyone else. It moved me. It will move one of you.
.
Sunday, August 20, 2017
Cherry tomatoes = Dinner!
They multiply like fleas but maybe not so annoying. But if you are not a gardener (nope, not me) you are always saying "yes" to anyone who offers you fresh picked anything from their garden. Even zukes! But tomatoes, well of course, sure, yes, bring 'em on, I will take them! And suddenly you find that you have a bushel of cherry tomatoes. (The bigger tomatoes you can always skin, chop and freeze without cooking but the little ones, nope, doesn't work.)
Tonight I came home and the three dozen cherry tomatoes I remembered had turned into six dozen it seemed. I needed to eat them tonight. What to do?
Here's what I did and it was perfect. Cut about three dozen very small cherry tomatoes in half. To that bowl I added about ten kalamata olives that were cut in smallish pieces. I had no basil or parsley but I had some arugula, so I chopped up about a half cup of that and tossed it in the bowl. Then I added about a quarter cup crumbled goat cheese into the bowl because it was getting too old to keep. Then some salt and pepper and a couple of shakes of red pepper flakes. I took a small garlic clove and minced it really well and added that. Finally I took my piece of parm cheese and used the vegetable peeler to peel off a few skinny threads of cheese into the bowl. Added a couple of tablespoons of really good fruity olive oil, stirred it up and let it set for about an hour so it was at room temp and flavors had melded.
Boiled some orecchiette pasta and tossed it with the room temp sauce, and the heat of the pasta melted the goat cheese just enough to make it all saucy and delicious. The heat also made the cherry tomatoes sing with their juicy sweetness and the saltiness of the olives was the perfect counterpoint to that sweetness. Tossed and poured into warmed up bowl (crucial with an uncooked sauce) it was the perfect meal.
It was a long weekend, driving to Sonora, doing the Mom Memorial thing, leaving there this morning and driving home...... the trip home seemed to take forever. So making a pasta sauce like this from what was in the fridge and on the counter was excellent.
And those cherry tomatoes that were taunting me.... in my belly!
.
Tonight I came home and the three dozen cherry tomatoes I remembered had turned into six dozen it seemed. I needed to eat them tonight. What to do?
Here's what I did and it was perfect. Cut about three dozen very small cherry tomatoes in half. To that bowl I added about ten kalamata olives that were cut in smallish pieces. I had no basil or parsley but I had some arugula, so I chopped up about a half cup of that and tossed it in the bowl. Then I added about a quarter cup crumbled goat cheese into the bowl because it was getting too old to keep. Then some salt and pepper and a couple of shakes of red pepper flakes. I took a small garlic clove and minced it really well and added that. Finally I took my piece of parm cheese and used the vegetable peeler to peel off a few skinny threads of cheese into the bowl. Added a couple of tablespoons of really good fruity olive oil, stirred it up and let it set for about an hour so it was at room temp and flavors had melded.
Boiled some orecchiette pasta and tossed it with the room temp sauce, and the heat of the pasta melted the goat cheese just enough to make it all saucy and delicious. The heat also made the cherry tomatoes sing with their juicy sweetness and the saltiness of the olives was the perfect counterpoint to that sweetness. Tossed and poured into warmed up bowl (crucial with an uncooked sauce) it was the perfect meal.
It was a long weekend, driving to Sonora, doing the Mom Memorial thing, leaving there this morning and driving home...... the trip home seemed to take forever. So making a pasta sauce like this from what was in the fridge and on the counter was excellent.
And those cherry tomatoes that were taunting me.... in my belly!
.
Mom's Memorial, or the Tossing of the Ashes
It is not entirely legal, of course, to toss a dead person's ashes on state owned land in California. There are regulations. Permits are required. Waiting periods are necessary.
We didn't do any of those things. On the Sonora Pass, above the town of Sonora, where Mom lived for about 15 years (and where she was usually happy), there is an area called the Dardanelles that Mom really liked. In that area is a state designated overlook area called Donnell Lake overlook where the Stanislaus River has created a huge gorge. It's lovely and in the past we (several of us kids at different times) took Mom on a ride from Sonora up to this overlook, had a little walk and Mom often said that if she couldn't have her ashes scattered in Scotland, this place would be just fine. The bonus was that on the ride back down the mountain we would stop at a cool dive bar and Mom could have a Guinness and we (whoever was ferrying her that day) could also have a beer and a shot. It made for a joyful afternoon: a nice drive, great scenery, pine trees, gorgeous overlook and booze. What about that isn't a good thing?
So off we went yesterday morning, all six of us kids, after meeting at a parking lot in Sonora, caravanning up to this spot, 14 of us total (grandkids, mates, etc), carrying Mom's ashes and some Irish Whiskey, some poems and some memories. It's a public place, of course, so we had to be discreet. We spent about a half hour just looking over the scene, wandering around until we found a spot off the main trail, it had a nice drop and a large flat rock to sit or stand on. It was good. Anyone who wanted to say anything or read anything could, and did. My brother Joe sang a beautiful version of "Red River Valley" with lyrics changed to suit my Mom, and his a cappella voice brought tears to everyone's eyes. Then we opened the bag and .... whoosh! There she went, over the edge and into the void. The wind was in our favor, no blow-back. We then tossed a shot of whiskey over the edge for her, had a shot in her honor, took a couple of photos, and that was it. Mom's ashes were in the wind and on the rocks of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
We all gathered later at a local restaurant, in a private room, had dinner, drank wine, looked at lots of photos of Mom, Dad and all of us from 1940's until 2010 and drank more wine. Finally we returned to a local hotel where many of us stayed, sat around the pool until after dark and three of my brothers played nice, soft music. Mom would have loved all of it.
The Mom Legend is finished, it seems, at least in the physical realm. Yes, she lives on in memories and maybe her spirit will find another body to inhabit (if that sort of thing happens) but for us the formality and the ritual of putting her where she wanted to be is over. Jenn kept some of the ashes and she and Dar may take them to Scotland in the next year or two, which would make Mom very happy. But our part in her life is finished.
It's nice to know that wherever her soul/spirit/force is, it is now up to her to make the most of the next episode. If there is one, of course. Who knows?
.
We didn't do any of those things. On the Sonora Pass, above the town of Sonora, where Mom lived for about 15 years (and where she was usually happy), there is an area called the Dardanelles that Mom really liked. In that area is a state designated overlook area called Donnell Lake overlook where the Stanislaus River has created a huge gorge. It's lovely and in the past we (several of us kids at different times) took Mom on a ride from Sonora up to this overlook, had a little walk and Mom often said that if she couldn't have her ashes scattered in Scotland, this place would be just fine. The bonus was that on the ride back down the mountain we would stop at a cool dive bar and Mom could have a Guinness and we (whoever was ferrying her that day) could also have a beer and a shot. It made for a joyful afternoon: a nice drive, great scenery, pine trees, gorgeous overlook and booze. What about that isn't a good thing?
So off we went yesterday morning, all six of us kids, after meeting at a parking lot in Sonora, caravanning up to this spot, 14 of us total (grandkids, mates, etc), carrying Mom's ashes and some Irish Whiskey, some poems and some memories. It's a public place, of course, so we had to be discreet. We spent about a half hour just looking over the scene, wandering around until we found a spot off the main trail, it had a nice drop and a large flat rock to sit or stand on. It was good. Anyone who wanted to say anything or read anything could, and did. My brother Joe sang a beautiful version of "Red River Valley" with lyrics changed to suit my Mom, and his a cappella voice brought tears to everyone's eyes. Then we opened the bag and .... whoosh! There she went, over the edge and into the void. The wind was in our favor, no blow-back. We then tossed a shot of whiskey over the edge for her, had a shot in her honor, took a couple of photos, and that was it. Mom's ashes were in the wind and on the rocks of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
We all gathered later at a local restaurant, in a private room, had dinner, drank wine, looked at lots of photos of Mom, Dad and all of us from 1940's until 2010 and drank more wine. Finally we returned to a local hotel where many of us stayed, sat around the pool until after dark and three of my brothers played nice, soft music. Mom would have loved all of it.
The Mom Legend is finished, it seems, at least in the physical realm. Yes, she lives on in memories and maybe her spirit will find another body to inhabit (if that sort of thing happens) but for us the formality and the ritual of putting her where she wanted to be is over. Jenn kept some of the ashes and she and Dar may take them to Scotland in the next year or two, which would make Mom very happy. But our part in her life is finished.
It's nice to know that wherever her soul/spirit/force is, it is now up to her to make the most of the next episode. If there is one, of course. Who knows?
.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
And that damn time machine again......
This is me being a Mom. I realized, as I wrote the blog about Jenn, that I didn't write anything about Gabe's birthday this year. In April, Gabe turned 40 years old which is a milestone. It was also the week my Mom died. I saw Gabe a day before his birthday which was two days after Mom died, and we celebrated, sort of, then. We had dinner, Annie, Jenn, Dar, and we drank some really nice rye whiskeys. We toasted Mom and Gabe and life.
Gabe is also so much more than I expected 40 years ago. He is the kid who wasn't contentious but was so, so thoughtful and kind and sometimes spacey as boys often are. But I know that in high school he seemed like a calm, obedient person but he broke a lot of rules. I have gleaned glimpses of those trashed rules over the years. Gabe also had a history of crashing cars for a while, once when someone loaned him a brand new sporty car (I am not sure it even had license plates yet) and he rolled it on a road out in Pt. Reyes Station. And by "rolled it" I mean just that. I saw the wrecked car in the local Pt. Reyes garage and it was some car racing angel who looked out for him in that accident.
I was the one who told Gabe not to move in with Annie, his first real serious girlfriend when he was..... maybe 20. It was my mother bear protective speech about getting hurt, how hard it is to move out when the person has moved in, how young he was...... and he and Annie have now been together for 20 years. Clearly Gabe knew his heart and he owned his life. He still does.
He is a man. It's so difficult for me to know that in my heart and mind. He is not my Gabe, he is Gabe and he is a man. However, even at 40 I can see the 5 year old in him, but that's because it's what parents do. I remember carrying him, sleeping, from the car, maybe even when he faked sleeping just to get carried. And there are too many memories get started on...... but every time I see him, he's still my boy. Grown up and all. He still grins like a ten year old. He is so smart, incredibly wise for his age, beautifully articulate, funny, talented, knowledgeable about so many things in the world and he makes the best Manhattan I have ever sipped!
OK, that's enough...... how much do I love my kids? There isn't a big enough word to describe it.
.
Gabe is also so much more than I expected 40 years ago. He is the kid who wasn't contentious but was so, so thoughtful and kind and sometimes spacey as boys often are. But I know that in high school he seemed like a calm, obedient person but he broke a lot of rules. I have gleaned glimpses of those trashed rules over the years. Gabe also had a history of crashing cars for a while, once when someone loaned him a brand new sporty car (I am not sure it even had license plates yet) and he rolled it on a road out in Pt. Reyes Station. And by "rolled it" I mean just that. I saw the wrecked car in the local Pt. Reyes garage and it was some car racing angel who looked out for him in that accident.
I was the one who told Gabe not to move in with Annie, his first real serious girlfriend when he was..... maybe 20. It was my mother bear protective speech about getting hurt, how hard it is to move out when the person has moved in, how young he was...... and he and Annie have now been together for 20 years. Clearly Gabe knew his heart and he owned his life. He still does.
He is a man. It's so difficult for me to know that in my heart and mind. He is not my Gabe, he is Gabe and he is a man. However, even at 40 I can see the 5 year old in him, but that's because it's what parents do. I remember carrying him, sleeping, from the car, maybe even when he faked sleeping just to get carried. And there are too many memories get started on...... but every time I see him, he's still my boy. Grown up and all. He still grins like a ten year old. He is so smart, incredibly wise for his age, beautifully articulate, funny, talented, knowledgeable about so many things in the world and he makes the best Manhattan I have ever sipped!
OK, that's enough...... how much do I love my kids? There isn't a big enough word to describe it.
.
Oh, were time travel an option......
I would opt for a day back when my daughter was about three years old. Or five. Or eleven. Not when she was a teenager, however. Maybe when she was a bride, maybe when she was just sleeping at any age and I got to watch her in that state of suspended emotion and energy.
Today she is 44. I am still shocked by the age of my children but the shock is no longer new, it's simply shock and awe and acceptance. Jenn is now and has always been wonderful, but don't quiz me about the teenage years. She might have been wonderful then but she hid it well.
There is something about seeing your kids as adults, knowing they are adults and physically longing to hold them just one more time as they were as kids. One more minute of carrying them from the car late at night. One more minute of smelling their hair, scents of baby shampoo, kid sweat and whatever they rubbed in their hair an hour before bedtime. One more time seeing them dressed for a date in high school and one more time giving them the "don't drink and drive, don't get in a car with someone who has been drinking and always use a condom" speech, which I am sure they knew by heart and did not always follow.
But now, all those past times have vaporized, and here I am, on the dark side of my 60's and they are in their light side of their 40's and the one true thing I have ever had in my life are my kids. There is nothing truer.
So, Happy Birthday my beautiful, talented, funny, contentious, loving and kind daughter. You are so much more than I expected 44 years ago, so much more than I thought I would get. I got you. With your brother, there's nothing better.
.
Today she is 44. I am still shocked by the age of my children but the shock is no longer new, it's simply shock and awe and acceptance. Jenn is now and has always been wonderful, but don't quiz me about the teenage years. She might have been wonderful then but she hid it well.
There is something about seeing your kids as adults, knowing they are adults and physically longing to hold them just one more time as they were as kids. One more minute of carrying them from the car late at night. One more minute of smelling their hair, scents of baby shampoo, kid sweat and whatever they rubbed in their hair an hour before bedtime. One more time seeing them dressed for a date in high school and one more time giving them the "don't drink and drive, don't get in a car with someone who has been drinking and always use a condom" speech, which I am sure they knew by heart and did not always follow.
But now, all those past times have vaporized, and here I am, on the dark side of my 60's and they are in their light side of their 40's and the one true thing I have ever had in my life are my kids. There is nothing truer.
So, Happy Birthday my beautiful, talented, funny, contentious, loving and kind daughter. You are so much more than I expected 44 years ago, so much more than I thought I would get. I got you. With your brother, there's nothing better.
.
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