Month: June 2008

June Was…

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June was a night of Sean Rowe music with some great women. June was one hell of a trip. June was the kick in the pants I needed. June was the “get off the pot” month. For BookLust Challenge it was:

  • Ninety-Two in the Shade by Thomas McGuane (fishing month)
  • An Academic Question by Barbara Pym (Ms. Pym’s birthday)
  • Act of the Damned by Antonio Lobo Antunes (family month)
  • The Amateur Marriage by Anne Tyler (best month to get married)
  • The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffennegger (Ms. Niffennegger’s birth month)
  • The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini (Father’s Day)
  • The American Ambassador by Ward Just (Anti-Father’s Day)

One review for LibraryThing:

  • Tomato Girl by Jayne Pupek (one word: tragic, tragic, tragic!)

Both Ninety-two in the Shade and Tomato Girl  were described as “gritty” and yes, were both gritty, but in two very different ways. I have to say The Kite Runner was my favorite June book.

Amateur Marriage

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Tyler, Anne. The Amateur Marriage: a Novel. New York: Ballantine, 2004.

It’s weird to say I finished this book poolside in Las Vegas, Nevada. Who would have predicted that? Certainly not me.

This is a book I will definitely read again someday. When thinking about this review I wanted to box this story into a corner and call it a sad book, but I couldn’t. It’s such an accurate portrait of how a marriage (and ultimately, a life) can end up that I can’t just call it “sad.” How can I when it’s beautiful, funny, tragic, infuriating, intelligent, frightening and honest all at the same time?
Michael and Pauline are two teenagers whose lives collide at the start of World War II. Their romance is the result of a marriage between a fear of the future and the desire to be someone else at that very instant. Michael wants a girlfriend, any girlfriend. Sensing Pauline’s fascination with the war effort he spontaneously enlists. Pauline wants a soldier for a boyfriend. Any soldier. The culture and uncertainly of the times have thrown these two people together in such a way that neither of them can back out, despite the growing realization they were never meant to be together.
One things leads to another and soon thirty years have gone by. Pauline and Michael divorce and life goes on. And on. While the marriage didn’t survive more than halfway through the novel, Michael and Pauline go on. Their relationship from beginning to end and beyond is captured beautifully.

Favorite quotes: “You know how men are about wearing ties on a Saturday” (p 31).
“I’ve reached the stage where I got so hungry that I’ve gone beyond  hunger” (p 71) …and Kisa didn’t think that was possible!
“Sometimes, Pauline got a feeling like a terrible itch, like a kind of all-over vibration, and she thought that any moment she might jump clear out of her skin” (p 71).

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Marriage Blues” (p 161). 

Outdoor Natalie

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Here’s one thing I adored about Vegas. Music was everywhere. No matter where you were. In the elevator, in a store, on the sidewalk, on the escalator, in the elevator. Didn’t matter. Music was there and everywhere. One of the best moments was hearing Natalie while basking in the midday sun. We were coming back from exploring the newest casinos (& stopping in my favorite indulgence, Sephora) when all of a sudden kisa stopped me and said to listen. What? Water fountains? The Japanese tourists behind us discussing shutter speed? The traffic weaving its way up the strip? For a moment I was lost. Then I heard the voice.
My former boss had told me there was no greater show than seeing Celine. I never saw anything indicating Celine was even around. Bette, Cher & Elton all had their moments, but it was Natalie who stole my show.

Orgasmic Mesa

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Heaven on Earth

This could also be called Ode To Bobby Flay or Where are the Damn Statues?! We went to Caesar’s Palace four times. Not for the gambling. Not for the shopping. For the statues. When my mother visited Vegas she had all these great stories of moving statues. I wanted to see them for myself. I had always told myself that if I ever made it to sin city I was going to find the statues in Caesar’s Palace.
The first time we went it was early morning. Nothing was really opened yet. Spotless and quiet, even the slot machines seemed muted. We didn’t find the statues.
The second time we passed through Caesar’s it was mid-afternoon. We followed signs to the moving statues and came up empty. So empty I felt lost. Where were the statues?
The third time we deliberately went to Caesar’s we asked someone for directions and were led to a cheesy, theatrical fountain show with mechanical puppets and lots of fire. Not what I was picturing. Not at all. Rather than wasting a trip I convinced Kisa to have lunch at Mesa, one of Bobby Flay’s restaurants.
Never before have I eaten at a place where the food is so good my eyes literally rolled back in my head. I ordered the southwest breakfast burrito with chorizo, scrambled egg, goat cheese, cilantro and three kinds of sauces.
On our fourth trip to Caesars I found the statues my mother had been talking about. Finally. I recognized them from the pictures she took. I was surprised to discover they are not LIVING statues but rather, moving mechanical statues. Just like the ones I found the day before. Admitting defeat I finally moved on from Caesars but I will never forget Mesa.

Breakfast

Flicker Sex

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Sin

I was expecting Vegas to be this scandalous, crazy, never-tell-your-mama-what-you’ve-done kind of city. I don’t know what I was picturing (people having sex in fountains? doing lines in the bathroom? stripping on dance floor?). I haven’t a clue. Here’s what I saw: people, people, people. All shapes and sizes, ages and backgrounds. People with cameras slung around their necks. People with places to go, people to meet. Men dressed for money, girls dressed for magazines. I couldn’t tell a prostitute from a tourist (unless she was handcuffed behind a cruiser). And, yes, some breasts were out (intentionally or not). Everyone walked around with a drink of some sort – some looking more ridiculous than others.
Here’s the only time I felt I was in sin city: the guys on every street corner trying to hand guys (and girls) “information” on hooker hook-ups. “Get a girl in 20 minutes…” Small clusters of dirty men (and an occasional woman) stood on every street corner flicking girly cards slightly smaller than a playing card. Waiting for the light to change all you hear is snap-snap-snap, flick-flick-flick. No one really says anything to you, just tries to get you to take a card, shoves it at you. The street corners are littered with smiling topless women…and the promise of the Vegas I imagined. The one that stays in Vegas.

Plastic Bags Make Great Music

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Stomp

“This had better be good. All I can say is this had better be good.” That was me, grumbling to kisa about our free show after spending nearly three hours trying to be talked into buying a time share. We had already gotten tickets for one Vegas show and I was thinking that was enough. Silly me.
Anytime anyone takes a stick and bangs on something I sit up and listen. I should have known this would be good. I’m fascinated by rhythm, no matter how it’s made. Add a dozen or more people all banging on things and I’m in percussion heaven. Such was Stomp. Of course I wasn’t allowed to take pictures but I did manage to take a picture of the theater before the performance (above isn’t it).
The thing that amazed me the most about the show was the idea that anything can create music. Anything can be played. Newspapers, boxes, brooms, garbage cans, even plastic bags. My eyes and ears couldn’t keep up with all the music being made. My favorite part was a water segment. Guys banging on cups as they poured water out of them in front of a huge fish tank. The changes in sound as the water left the cups were fascinating.
So, yeah. I may have been grumbling in the beginning but in the end kisa rocked my world. See below for the “set” pic of Stomp.

Stomp Set

Free Show for the Insane

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First Look at VegasI think my husband is part evil. No, scratch that. I think he’s a glutton for punishment. We had been up since 4am, been on a plane for over five hours, hadn’t even checked into our room yet and suddenly he’s agreeing to some two hour “presentation” on time shares. The woman that roped us in was a fast moving, smooth talking woman from New York with bleached blond hair, bright circus makeup and a huge toothy smile. She had lipstick on her teeth and a gleam in her eye as she first circled then approached us. Her first words were, “How would you like to see a free show while you are here?” How could we resist? I barely had time to pee before we were whisked off to answer a bunch a questions, confirm those answers and get shuttled somewhere else. I had been in Vegas for not even two hours.
Sitting down with a rep is a lot like playing cat and mouse. They’ll ask you silly questions and you give silly answers. You circle around the cold, hard facts (like price & interest rate) all the while thinking you could just be the cat in this game. The longer you play hard to get, the harder they try. Reps consult managers, managers come out to sweet talk you. Suddenly, you are in the driver’s seat and they’re saying things like, “we normally don’t make this kind of offer…this has never been done before…my boss is going to kill me, but…” On and on it goes until finally someone gives in, gives up. By the time the interest rate was finally muttered we knew we had won. Over 15% was a ridiculous rate no matter how many free trips to Hawaii they would throw in. With NoThankYou firmly planted in our mouths and a resolution to walk away in our hearts we got our free tickets and got the hell out of there. Welcome to Vegas.

 

Final Destination

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We escaped San Diego. Well, let me be truthful: we escaped the Mission. This is the last leg of the journey. Homeward bound tomorrow. I didn’t shop for presents for people. Instead I took pictures for them. I’d see something that would remind me of someone (like Sarah) and just had to take a pic. I took so many that we had to get me a new memory card. I think I’m up to 1000 shots so far…

Anyway, here’s the upcoming blog list:

  • Seen one Michael’s You’ve Seen ‘Em All
  • Here Comes the Bride
  • Maybe You Should Drive
  • May We Be Excused?
  • Dead Camera
  • Chipotle Not Neglected
  • Aquarium on the Hill
  • Way Nicer Everything

 

Plugged in But Disconnected

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We are on the third leg of our journey. We somehow abandoned our cell phone chargers in another city, but that’s another story. Other stories waiting to happen:

  • Get a Room…oh wait, you have one
  • Treadmill in turmoil
  • Book connected
  • Touch-Me Houses
  • Sleeping Giant
  • Queen Mary Grounded
  • How well do you know Forest Freakin’ Gump?
  • Kobe Pizza and the Red Sox Fan
  • Seaweed Queen
  • I Used One of My 9 Lives
  • How Many Times Can you Call Me?
  • Which Zoo Did You Want?
  • Polar Bear Antics
  • Scavenger Hunt Failure
  • “‘You Got Sun”
  • Friends Don’t Let Friends…

 

Plugged In

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It feels like a sin to be plugged in on vacation. Connected while trying to break away. Truth is, I’ve been writing everyday, thinking about my words, shaping what I want to say. Here are some things I have been observing, feeling, sensing, experiencing- all worth mentioning at some point:

  • “Do you want to see a free show?”
  • Scavenger hunt antics
  • No slot machine?
  • Plastic bags make great music
  • Flicker Sex
  • Outdoor Natalie
  • Bananas again?
  • Orgasmic Mesa 
  • Where are the damn statues?
  • Caesar’s again???
  • Nothing with the name Kobe in it!
  •  I hate Penske trucks
  • Dock of the Bay
  • Gotta run

Okay, that’s really cryptic, but those will be the titles of upcoming blogs. I have a feeling Ruby will be able to figure out a few of them, thanks to her Vegas expertise. Seriously, I have been having a great time. We have been on the go every single second, it seems – so, I haven’t run. Yet.

Today is the Long Beach aquarium, some boat (forgot the name) and more sight seeing. For now, breakfast. More tomorrow – maybe a real blog if we can transfer pics (I’ve taken about 200 so far).

Love ya!

Mercy Me Mocha

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Serious FaceCar Cat
I wanted to wait a little while before writing about Sean’s gig because, well, because I needed to take it all in. It’s funny how music works that way on me. Sometimes it just reaches out and takes hold and won’t let go. Sometimes it thieves my heart away and other times it just leaves me silent.
In the past I wanted to drag as many people as possible to see shows. Promote, promote, promote! It got to the point where I had exhausted the friend list and got nothing in return. It got to that been-there, done-that, same ole-same ole routine. Some fans didn’t stick while others have stuck around to this day. It use to stress me out – that line of lovers and haters. These days I go where I want to go and don’t worry about the fan base, the fanfare. It’s gotten simpler. Much.
So, seeing Sean started out as something unexpected. Back when I first heard his music I froze in the middle of the floor. I must have looked ridiculous and I’m sure I got laughed at. I’m going to skip the oft-mentioned review of how his voice sounds and tell you what really grabbed me. I hear drums in this one-man, one-guitar show. I hear a beat so loud and solid I can do nothing more than stop and stare; barely breathe. Combine that with absolutely amazing lyrics and I have been hooked ever since.

So, the four of us made the tiny trek north. We wandered around town, peering into shop windows, our minds tasting the menus plastered there, lazily looking for the best place for a bite. We settled on a new place – first night open to the public. Good food, better atmosphere, great service. I made a mental note to come back. I know someone who would think it perfect.
Mocha Maya’s. Just in time for music. Sean Rowe (Speaking of perfect). 

I have to admit I had to ask Sean for a set list because a) he has new music I haven’t heard before & new(er) ones I have yet to commit to memory. Here’s what he remembers:
Surprise
Jonathan (the song I called ‘creepy’. I don’t expect anyone to understand that…It’s why I love Halloween). 
Wet
Rock me baby
Shorty
why i sing the blues

I also think In the Diamonds was in there somewhere, but I have no idea why. We did listen to Sean on the way up to the gig…

My new favorite song: Wet. Beyond beautiful. Sean doesn’t have it on his website as a free listen-to, but it will be on the new album due out Sept 4th, 2008 (hopefully)…

My next gig: July 4th!

ps~ I’m including Mocha Maya’s website because the people there are really super cool. They”ve let me know they loved Sean and will get him back as soon as they can. As soon as they do, I’m there!
Pumpkin Lights

Island Rescue

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art hill
I think the fates know I am homesick. Every so often I am surrounded by the reminders of where I really would like to be. Little reminders are dropped just outside my periphery. I catch glimpses of where I miss. A few weeks ago my family meandered around Boston, looking for a decent place to eat. By chance we stumbled on (and into) a cute noodle place with exotic offerings like seafood pad thai and mango curry. It wasn’t a first choice but we chose it. The tablecloths were nice. Fresh flowers on every table. Calming colored walls. Pleasant atmosphere. Within a few minutes someone noticed the paintings. Look! There’s home. The bell, the boat, the lighthouse. Same old in an unexpected new place. And there’s another. Same scene from a different angle. The wedding site. Art on the walls but more to me.
Yesterday I got an email from a professor in New Jersey. He wanted to know my opinion on a legal database I’ve only used once. His signature on the email was a link to a tiny art gallery in a town I used to frequent (way back in the day). Curious, I clicked on the link and was confronted by the colors of home. Red House. Pink Carina. Gray fishhouse. Yellow cochrane. The artist was asking $1,000 for each painting. It was if Jersey had never seen the coast of Maine.
Last night someone from New Hampshire invited me to an artist’s reception. He thought I would like the poppy paintings. Reminiscent of Georgia big flowers. That sort of thing. While trying to figure out the schedule (could I fit it in?) I noticed the gallery featured another artist I know and like and well, almost dated back in the early 80’s. Woops. Small world not really.

So, all of these reminders are here for a reason. Telling me to go home. Urging me to sit by the sea. Soon enough.

Never Should Have

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I never should have listened to you. I never should have got my hopes up or my heart set. Shame on me for being so optimistic, so g-damn hopeful.
This was her house. Sacred ground of a grandmother not mine. Home to the perfect grandparent. Cookies at Christmas instead of before-during-after cocktails amany. Real hugs and kisses instead of Don’t Muss the Makeup air fakers. She wouldn’t have bought me patent leather shoes and insisted on making us match. Twins not born on the same day, or even in the same year. I honored this woman because she was real. It would have been a real honor to live in her home. Her ghost walking my floor.
You never should have got my hopes up or my heart set. I dreamed of living with like a queen. A queen with an angel on her shoulder. You never should have convinced me this could work. the perfect lawn, the perfect garden, the perfect life – mine for the taking. I’m angry and hurtful for letting you allow me to live the American dream. I had a white picket fence in my sleep.
Disappointment hurts deep. I will walk away from the red house. Don’t hate me if I turn my back forever. Even if chance does change I won’t turn around. Condescending tones. When I was your age bullsh!t. I don’t need that. Not at my age and my intelligence. Don’t insult me further by saying there might be a chance because I’ve closed that chapter already. I’ve moved on from that nightmare. Let Grace haunt the halls for someone else.

Act of the Damned

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Antunes, Antonio Lobo. Act of the Damned. New York: Grove Press, 1995.

I have to admit this was not one of my favorite books this month. Maybe something was lost in the translation (literally from Portuguese to English), but there were too many layers of storytelling going on. Dr. Nuno Souza, a dentist, tells his story in first person, but his imagination works overtime to include an Edward G. Robinson, a cigar smoking, gun toting tough guy. Nuno is married to Ana, but has a drug addicted girlfriend on the side.
Even though Nuno is telling the story in the first part, it’s Ana’s family that is the center of the story. Her family is beyond corrupt. Incest and greed come second nature to these people. Ana’s mother is the voice in part two. I think what makes the story so confusing is that no one really uses names. When Ana’s mother tells the story she uses family connections, “my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, my husband, his father, her brother…” Later, Ana herself tells the story…then someone else who uses the same technique…

These are the quotes that caught my attention:
“I opened the drawer to take out a shirt and tie, and was met by enough sicks for an army of ankles” (p 5).
“I laid down the receiver while the two voices tussled, scratched and bit each other in an electric desert of screws and wires” (p 17).
“‘I want her out by the thirtieth at the latest. She can go to tell and listen to conversations down there'” (p 42).
“I wiped the smile off my mouth with a napkin” (p 71).

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust from the chapter “Families in Trouble” (p 83).

Running Away

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How do I run while I’m on the road? This is a thought that has been bothering me for days now. I have been keeping up a schedule of running every other day (more or less), and I hate, hate, hate the thought of giving it up for a week just because I’ve been separated from Mr. G.
Option #1 is to hope and pray each hotel has it’s own G wheel for me to spin on. That would be bonus because lifting and all that other stuff will be much easier, too.
Option #2 is to get to know the neighbors while I hit their streets. I know Kisa’s not thrilled about that. How many wives have gone missing while just “out for a run”??? Okay, okay – all those wives were in their own neighborhoods, happened to be pregnant and ended up getting killed by their own husbands. I don’t fit into that scenario except for the fact anything can happen to anyone.
Option 3# is to find a running group and team up with them. Nope. I’m stubborn. I am a slow runner, plus I like the idea of doing everything by myself. No one helped me begin this journey so why change the plan now? Besides, we won’t be in one area long enough for me to “hook up” per se.
Option #4 is to scope out parks relatively close to every place we stay and opt for a quiet, no sweat 30 minute “thing.” This seems appealing because I have to admit, as I told Serious, I heard my knee talking to me after 3.8 miles last night. Not a good sign.
So what to do? What to do?

Maybe…and this isn’t an option I have considered for too long…I need a week off. My suitcase would be lighter and my schedule more open. Je ne sais pas.