Category: Good

Insult to Injury

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My husband knows the word “rant” all too well. I’ll go on for hours about something until it becomes nothing – the way writing a single word over and over will start to look strange and lose meaning twenty times later.
First it was about blood work. They wanted my blood and made me make an appointment. They told me when to stick my arm out for the needle. But, when I showed up it was all my fault. “You need to follow up on the appointment.” What? Doublecheck the receptionist to make sure I’m really in the book? “Well, even though you had an appointment you need to make sure the doctor put in the order.” What? So, now I’m following up on the doctor? Let me get this straight so I don’t waste 90 minutes on another day. “You shouldn’t make the appointment so soon after the doctor has seen you.” What? The receptionist told me the opening she had available. I just agreed to show up. Now you’re saying I need to refuse her suggested appointment time. Could I be anymore confused? Insult to injury- the nurse called my machine and said they found the drs order for blood work and I can come in “anytime” (giggle, giggle).
Then it was about my car. When they were done, they wanted to leave it behind the building, locked up, keys in the glove box. They wanted me to pay now and pick it up with my husband’s keys later. Behind the building, locked up. My keys would be in the glove box. It’s not behind the building. It’s not locked up (window is rolled down and door is left completely unlocked). Keys are not in the glove box. Only this is where stupid me, myself and moi come in. We don’t notice this for nearly a week. I call the mechanic six days later. “Do you guys have a spare set of keys lying around?” “Chevy Prism?” “Yup.” “Last name _____.” “Yup.” “Yeah, we got ’em.” “And you couldn’t call me?! Can you bring them to me since you said my car would be locked up with the keys in the glove box and NONE of that happened?” Silence. “Hey. You guys told me you would lock it up and leave the keys in the glove box. Since that didn’t happen you need to bring me my keys.” Who knew I had the brass bra? “*sigh* We’ll see what we can do.” Insult to injury – I was late for work.
Then it was my feet. “Do you have anything in a size 5?” “Nope.” “But I see 5 1/2s here.” “Last year’s stock. We’re not carrying anything smaller than 6 on the adult side. Kids has size 5. Check there.” Insult to injury – size 5 didn’t fit. Neither did 4. I’m a 3 1/2 KIDS if I want to shop at Marshalls.

Above The Thunder

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Above the ThunderManfredi, Renee. Above the Thunder. San Francisco: MacAdam & Cage, 2004.

Once I started reading Above the Thunder it was like a giant boulder building momentum down a hill. I couldn’t stop turning the pages. I like that it’s all about journeys, big and small. Personal and global. On the surface its four people, on the whole it’s humanity. The plot is simple – it’s about the life of Anna. She starts out being a cynical, bitter widow who “doesn’t want to get involved.”‘ She doesn’t want to get involved in living, period. She has all but disowned her daughter whom she hasn’t seen in 12 years. She has one friend. When her son-in-law and granddaughter return to live with her and she reluctantly agrees to help moderate an aids support group she ends up being the center of a collection of people so diverse and wonderful she can’t help but change and, in the process, grow. Sounds predictable and nice, but it isn’t. There is a harsh reality to this coming-into-the-light story: aids, suicide, divorce, miscarriage and sadness all play an important part in the plot.

The thing I liked best about Above the Thunder are the characters. They are believable. Anna is introduced to us as closed off and inflexible. In time she changes, but when faced with a new tragedy she reverts back her old self and craves solitude where she can grieve in private. In shrugging off the comfort of others she is still the same person we meet in chapter one. Even Jack, a homosexual with problems with fidelity, doesn’t change his desire for sexual freedom once he discovers he is hiv positive. All the characters go through a period of growth and acceptance, but at the core are all still the same unique individuals.
Some favorite lines:

  • “She doubted it was possible to understand someone else’s suffering. Even her beloved husband whose pain had become a private geography on which she couldn’t trespass.” (p 21)
  • “Holy God, man, how long does it take to cook a hot dog? I’ve been in line long enough to break a habit, backslide, and recommit.” (p 183)

And a favorite scene: two homosexual men trying to teach a pubescent girl how to use a tampon for the first time. It’s hysterical and poignant all at once.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter called, “Maiden Voyages” (p 159). I have always loved discovering someone’s very first novel. Katherine Weber’s maiden voyage is one of my favorite, but Above the Thunder rates right up there, too.

guiding me home

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Dear Dad,

Happy Father’s Day. This is your daughter telling you I thought of you today. If I were home I would lay flowers at your name. Red roses for remembrance. I remember you. Instead I paused to smell the blooms still on the bush, crushed the silky petals between my fingers and pretended to be running wild with mud speckled bare feet, tangled hair flying behind; I heard you calling me home. I’m late for dinner again.

We spent the day on the water and I remembered a boat of a different shape, remembered water of a different color. I thought of skin bruised red by the sun, salty to the tongue. We picnicked on the waves and I thought of you, your laughing eyes behind dark sunglasses, your pocket knife hooked at the hip, your military issued blue shirt stained with grease as only a mechanic could. How you let me steer our way home. A spur of the moment navigation lesson.
We flew over the water and the spray was just the same. I could have been hanging over the Atlantic instead of a river. I leaned out to touch the flying droplets, searching the water’s surface for murky secrets, ghosts in the spray. As usual I didn’t find anything. I never find anything.
Tying at the dock I had one more brush with your past. “1500 hours, driven in by the rain. Lunch on the water aborted. Headed for home. 1512.”
Dear Dad, this is your daughter telling you I missed you today. Happy Father’s Day.

One Morning in Maine

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One Morning in MaineMcCloskey, Robert. One Morning in Maine. New York: Puffin Books, 1989.

Who doesn’t love Robert McCloskey’s books? For starters, all the illustrations are great. For another, I always loved One Morning in Maine because I could compare Sal’s life to my own growing up…She lived on an island in Maine, boat trips were something to get excited about and she had a younger sister…the differences were her family lived close enough to row over to the mainland (when their boat engine died) and her family could go digging for clams right outside their house. Our boat rides took over an hour, full steam ahead and I hunted for periwinkles in tide pools.
Even her parents reminded me of my own – always playing the Big Girl Card. Compared to my sister I was supposed to be more mature, more responsible. They used my elder status to get me to behave, “but you’re growing into a big girl and big girls don’t cry about things like that” (p37).

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust. Pearl mentions in the intro (p ix) she started her obsession with reading with books like One Morning in Maine. Me too!

Planning Your Escape

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Sunday we planned our July island trip. Kisa & I met Bri & Stace for coffee, huevos rancheros, coffee, sunflower oatmeal toast, coffee and a little island planning. A leisurely two hour brunch. Not much to plan except what boat to take, what night to order lobsters and who’s in charge of pancakes for breakfast. Talking food was fun. Stace is going to make chicken parm, I mentioned a chili lime corn on the cob cooked on the grill…lobster in rolls or steamed straight up? Make-Your-Own-Tacos with lots and lots of ingredients. We are close enough to town to roll out of bed for chai and scones if no one wants to tackle the griddle, close enough to Sue’s amazing pizza for lunch.

My only other dilemma is what to books to bring…

Women for Women International

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Women for Women InternationalHere’s a new one. I’ve never been contacted by the Women for Women International charity before. I think their slogan is “see what you can do” because it was plastered on every piece of paper possible. Here’s what I got from the mailing: the ever-popular “Dear Friend” letter (four pages long), a strip of yellow paper outlining the critical situation of women in Southern Sudan, the ever-present donation card & envelope, and what looks to be a Women for Women International newsletter.

Here’s what I found out from the information sent to me:

  • Zainab Salbi is president, CEO and founder of Women for Women International in the hopes of women helping women.
  • WFWI has provided more than 93,000 women with tools and resources to get themselves out of poverty in places like Sudan, the DRC, Iraq, Afghanistan, Rwanda, Columbia, Bosnia and Kosovo. I’m thinking they should partner with DWB/MSF because they are in the same places, doing almost the same work.
  • WFWI is a 501(c)(3) organization. Weirdly enough, their funding information wasn’t in the letter but rather on the back of the envelope you mail back. You can write to the charity to receive a report of their annual finances. Each state has a different process and they’re all listed on the envelope.

Gifts

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So, kisa gave me the puppy dog look this morning as he said, “my tapes aren’t in the pic…” Even though he wasn’t that upset I thought I would post another pic. To tell the truth, it was actually my 2nd choice pic. My first choice just showed the “Fun at Lunch Hour” tape best.
Four out of six “Kisa” tapes are here. So are four from my sister, two from exYouKnowWhos and the rest are friends. I left out the exTapes I can’t stand, the mix my step-grandmother made me (Yanni!) and the lesbian love song mix. I don’t care to revisit those encounters….ever.

So, Kisa – there you go. Provin Mountain, Chill Mix (thankfully you didn’t call it the Calm Down tape), Post Birthday and Extra B-Day are represented.

 

Pardon the Interruption

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I may have to put the Book Lust project on hold every now and then. Come to think of it, I’ll have to admend my BL “rules” as well. Here’s what happened. A few weeks ago LibraryThing sent me a private comment…they said they were looking for people to be involved in their Early Reviewers Program. 500 out of 215,981 members would be chosen to receive pre-publication copies of Random House titles as long as they post reviews on LibraryThing after reading them. We wouldn’t be paid for our reviews but we would get free books. How cool is that? I don’t get paid for the reviews I already write so what the hey? Sounds like fun only it will cut into my BookLust Challenge.
Today, I found out that I have been chosen to receive a book! Since there are 500 members and only 5 books to chose from, I was convinced I would be in the “sooner or LATER” group – as in “sooner or later you’ll get a book to review…but not right now.”

I’ve been told the RH book should be here within a week. That means As I Lay Dying and Aspects of the Novel will hang in the balance between unfinished and finished until the RH assignment is finished.

Recovered

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I lose things. I could misplace you if you weren’t your own person. Keys, wallet and cell phone are my most common victims but every once in awhile it’s a mixed tape. To me, that’s more devastating than keys, wallet and phone combined. CDs be damned, I love my mixed tapes.
SG made tapes that skillfully went from one song to another with meaning and message. They were cryptic, brain teasing and heart breaking. My sister made tapes trying to convince me her music knows best. There was vengeance, too (a lot of death to Billy songs…hmmm). Kisa made tapes full of his personality and humor. My favorite sound bites from movies, Homer Simpson chiming in, a weather update, goofy dj voice…But RT made two tapes that were just plain fun fun fun. Somehow I lost them both. I blamed it on moving eight times in as many years; sharing space with 14 different people in as much time – things are bound to get a little mixed up. A mixed tape (or two) could surely go missing in that mess.
Well, I found one of the tapes…in the oddest place…my mother’s art table on the island. I was never so surprised and overjoyed. It was like finding a long lost friend. Okay, so this friend is a little warped but I can’t stop listening to her! RT introduced me to Tom Waits. “Martha” is one of my all-time favorite songs. RT also introduced me to Billy Bragg and the Proclaimers and “We Could Be Heroes” in German. Thanks to her, some silly song by Ace of Base that I now can’t dislodge from my head….
I’m hoping tape 2 emerges one day. I’m hoping it pops up just as “Fun at Lunch Hour” did. It will be music to my ears.

Prayer

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People are asking me how my holiday was and I’ve been answering “spiritual.” WTF? Where is that coming from? Usually my peace comes from a good yoga session, an exhausting run, a rhythm with the ocean, sleeping in, waking slow. I’m grounded by a good book, a better friend, cooking a decent meal, laughing loud and long. I didn’t have much of any of that while I was home. No yoga, no run. Each morning I woke at 5:30am… usually from jarring dreams that rattled me awake. The equivalent of being rudely tossed out of slumber. While I read the books didn’t give me safe passage. So, what gives? Why the word “spiritual” to describe what a week ago I couldn’t even put words to?

I think I know. I think I get it. Discovery is knowledge. Knowledge lends itself to understanding. Understanding is the foundation for acceptance. There is peace in acceptance. Bingo. I learned a little more about myself through my mother’s history and that has brought me home. Spiritually. I get it now. This revelation brought me hope.

My mother said, “I block those times out” and that’s when hope arrived. I was this close to replying “I know what you mean.” I was this close to yanking open the closet door and letting the skeletons tumble out. It seemed like an invitation to confide. My hand was on the door, turning the knob. I could have done it…but I thought too much. How would she feel that she is the very last to know? Would she be offended, would she be hurt? How would I explain my distrust of her reaction 30 years too late? Time doesn’t heal all wounds. And wound her I would. Hers would be fresh and raw while all mine have scarred over and hardened into indifference. So instead, I let go, looked in my lap and said, “I can see why…” With that, the moment slipped away. Wine in hand she walked away. The closet door stayed closed.

Glass

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To drink or not to drink…not a question. Not a problem. I’ve never really considered alcohol a good friend, or even a friend for that matter. I know someone who gave it up completely. She was my not-really-drinking-drinking-buddy. My something sour to her something strong. She gave it up completely while I still talk to the bottle every now and then.
While on vacation every now and then became every night and then. Thursday night was a big glass of Merlot, chugged at Rosie’s. Friday night was a couple small glasses of Yellow Tail while staring at the ocean. Saturday night was this bottle of out of this world UFO, while watching watching the sun go down. Sunday was Shipyard brew at the Bull. Monday night I cried uncle when a Beaujolais was coming my way. Why? Four days in a row is nothing and there are people who think nothing of it, but to me, I was thinking everything.
Something worth considering.

rain

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It’s the only time my mind is bombarded with lyrics – when it rains. Drives me crazy but comforts me all the same. Madonna (“Rain”), Matchbox 20 (“She only sleeps when it’s raining”), Natalie Merchant (“I’ve been walking all alone through the wind and through the rain”), Dave Matthews (“Gravedigger, when you dig my grave could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain”, Eurythmics (“Here comes the rain again”), Rebecca Correia (“Rain, how’s it feelin’ babe” and “I’ve got all the blue skies in your eyes combined, so bring on the the rain”), Bob Dylan (“Buckets of rain”), the Grateful Dead (“Box of Rain”), Eric Clapton (“praying for the healing rain”), and even Gordon Lightfoot (“rainy day people…”) have been singing to me all morning.

I don’t know what makes the rain so beautiful to me, especially today. Maybe it’s that first day back to work, matching my get-down-to-business attitude. Can’t think of anything else but writing proposals, drafting policies, scheduling fall classes, wading through tons of email…No running, no “I should be outside” guilt trip, no other plans but getting back into the professional world. Weird how I missed it. I needed to be away, yet cannot stay away.

I’m thinking I’d like to learn a new “hobby”. Any ideas? Bring on the rain.

Clear Path International

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Too Many YearsMy first exposure to Clear Path was through Natalie. She provided a song on a benefit cd (Too Many Years) which was released in the spring of 2005. Even before that I knew Natalie was involved in the project. She would talk about CPI’s mission during her shows. She called such conversations (when she wasn’t singing) “patter”. I called it education for she was always talking about charities near and dear to her. CPU caught my attention when it broke my heart. So I donated. When I ordered the cd I asked to be put CPI’s mailing list for their biannual newletter and discovered I went to school with the vice president and the Cambodia advisor. Small world. They don’t know I subscribe to their newsletter, nor would they recognize my name when I donate. I’m a different person, literally and figuratively, since high school. But aren’t we all? 

But, I digress. Here’s the quick and dirty about CPI: Clear Path International is a six year old nonprofit out of (U.S.) Bainbridge Island, Wash. and Dorset, VT. They have offices in Vietnam, Cambodia & Thailand (the places that really make sense) as well. Their mission is to serve the families and communities who are victim to landmines and oh so much more.  Their website is chock full of information – including a blog of videos worth checking out.

                                                    CPI logo