Mom's Month

My mom was one of those bigger than life kind of people that you run into once in a while.  She dressed in bright colors, wore lots of sparkly rings and hangy-downy earrings, always had a smile on her face and greeted everyone she met with welcoming enthusiasm.  She doused herself in expensive perfume which was sometimes a little hard to take.  She loved purses and treated herself to new ones regularly. One time she really wanted this particular spendy bag at Nordstrom. She "convinced" my dad that she needed it by carrying her purse contents in a paper bag one time when they left to run errands.  Dad stopped at Nordstrom on the way. She had a loud and hearty laugh that used to embarrass me when I was a teenager and I remember praying that no one would say anything funny.  Of course, that prayer wasn't answered.  It didn't need to be.

Mom used to say that there are only two kinds of people in this world:  Those who like Neil Diamond and those who don't.  She actually had many more categories for people groups but that's the one that recently surfaced.  She could fix all kinds of things by using "a trick she learned in the Army."  That expression irritated my sister but I grew up thinking she really HAD been in the Army so it made all kinds of sense to me. Mom could sing and whistle beautifully.  Our house was always full of music when I was growing up and much of it emanated from her special brand of musical talent.  She could recite poems she'd learned in grade school.  It was a great day when both of us could recite "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud" together.

She always behaved like a lady.  I wonder if anyone even remembers what that means.  I received more instruction than I ever needed in how to behave like a lady.  Some of the requirements are that you always carry a tissue, have mad money tucked away in your purse, never swear, always wear perfume, and always maintain the impression that you are in perfect health and that your world couldn't be more pleasant even if the dog just died and you broke out in an inexplicable rash.  She sometimes invited near strangers to holiday dinners simply because they had no other place to go. She was a terrific self-taught cook and made homemade bread for years. I was embarrassed to take homemade bread sandwiches to school so I'd eat them in the gym where my friend Ann would trade her potato chips for some of my bread.

My mom was the central figure in my world until my husband and children joined her in that circle.  Every  day was a special day just for her.

Fifty Years of GH

I started watching "General Hospital" when it first started on ABC TV fifty years ago.  I had to discontinue watching for various reasons:  my Mom didn't think it was an "uplifting" program, we weren't really allowed to watch any daytime TV, and I soon started college when I didn't have time for anything but reading and studying and trying to figure out how to pass a math requirement. But I watched long enough to get to know plenty about Dr. Steve Hardy, Nurse Jessie Brewer and the new nurse, Audrey.  These three characters formed the lovers' triangle that ruled the hospital before they were joined by children and other new characters who magically found themselves in Port Charles.  Then the program extended to a 60 minute time frame which fit nicely into my babies' nap schedules.  At this time, no one knew about my shameful addiction to this fascinating soap except close family members (who never passed up a chance to ridicule me) and my next door neighbor Andrea, a lifelong fan of "Days of Our Lives." Andrea taught me how to become a wise and mature fan, one who knew that dead soap characters usually come back to life and that the most complicated scenario that would do the most harm to the most people would likely be the newest plot development.

As the years went by, I grew accustomed to the new characters and GH settled into spinning its tales around the core threesome then around the Luke and Laura excitement and eventually into the complicated gangster/good guy life of Sonny Corinthos.  I fell in love with these people who became my secret friends and family members.  I could forgive them almost anything and it became a great pleasure to hate the really bad guys like Helena Casadine.  As far as everyone knew, I was spending my leisure time reading Shakespeare and Chekhov and only watched the PBS station on TV.

Then came the era of VCRs and I could record GH while I was away teaching during the day and view it after dinner when the family and school chores were finished for the day.  I started letting a few key people know about my viewing addiction and was pleasantly surprised to learn that others had secret soap watching habits too. I didn't feel so bad about wishing I could look exactly like Brenda Barrett.

"General Hospital" is celebrating 50 years of broadcasting this week.  Luke (Anthony Geary) was  on GMA this morning and the program will be featured on a special broadcast of "20/20" this coming Saturday night.  Laura, Frisco, Brenda, Helena, Lucy Coe and several others have all returned to do special parts in the current plot line.  They all look pretty good in spite of the "work" that's been done to their faces.  Luke looks the best.  In fact, he looks better now than he did when he was young.  Will he and Laura get back together?  How about Carly and Jax?  Will Felicia choose Mac or Frisco?  And when will Spinelli find out that Maxi is having his baby? And what's up with Britt and her evil mother? Will Robin come back?  I can make fairly accurate guesses about the answers to each of those questions all because  I'm a veteran GH watcher.  How many more years will this soap last?  My guess is that it won't last all that long because of "real life" drama on facebook and new TV reality shows. But I'm not too sure how I can make the transition to life without GH.

Spring Eve

Monday night's sleep was disturbed by a gushing nosebleed that wouldn't stop for 45 minutes.  We finally staunched the flow and then I woke up in another hour to another outpouring of blood from both nose and mouth.  I thought I was drowning in my own blood!  We made a hasty trip to the ER with me holding the wastebasket under my chin and losing more blood with every bump in the road. I was just sure the staff in the ER would freak out when they saw this senior lady hurrying through the door while leaking red onto her pink nightgown that was barely covered by a black hoodie.  (I do have to add that the hoodie is one of my good ones and has sparkly sequins in the hood itself so I hope that drew attention away from the nightgown and oversized sweat pants.) They tried pressure.  No slow of the flow.  They tried silver nitrate.  Couldn't locate the site due to the blood flow.  They suctioned my nose.  I made them stop that weird torture.  The bleeding subsided and after a reasonable wait, we started making plans to go home.  But wait!  There's more!  Just as we were discussing the paperwork, the red river started to flow again.  This time the doc stopped it by shoving a balloon-shaped gauze tube inside my nose.  He taped the bottom end of the plastic tube to the side of my face.  You can easily entertain yourself for a few seconds by imagining what I looked like.  Don't forget: I was still wearing my sparkly hoodie.  Then we waited and waited and waited.  You can't have any idea what sort of painful torture it is to have a large object stuffed way up your nostril unless you've actually experienced it. Now to top every off, there was construction going on above the ER.  The work sounded as if overly busy surgeons were sawing off limbs and using mallets to pound skulls. Those sounds only added to the instant headache that occurred when the doc finished pushing inches of cotton tubing up my nose. Advice:  make sure you are awake enough when you get up to use the bathroom that you don't randomly stab yourself in the nose.

Booking It

I've been working on our new book since December. It is the story of our year long quest to find the 14 species of owls that are seen in Oregon.  Just let me say that our adventures finding what we found were fun, exciting, and satisfying.  You will enjoy the book if you'd like to read about two women wandering around the state seeking certain birds and finding unexpected adventures and memories.

The book is about half finished and we still don't have a title.  I think that's strange.  Bobbie suggests that we consider following the current trend of one word book titles.  But what would the one word be?  There is nothing exciting about Owls as a title.  How about two words?  Owl Outings?  Cute, but it doesn't grab me.  Quest?  No. How about a title that has a colon in it such as Owling:  A Year's Quest in Oregon.  It certainly describes the content but it lacks flash.

You can see that I'm stumped. Any suggestions are welcome!

Heart Happy

Today is one of Hallmark's favorite days of the year.  My husband pointed that out to me many years ago when he reminded me that Valentine's Day is yet another day of conspicuous consumption fueled by heavy advertising. It was the '70s and lots of us were suspicious of campaigning and advertising.  It was probably just his excuse for forgetting to buy me a large heart shaped box full of candy. In the years to follow, I faithfully gave him a card and often accompanied it with an appropriate gift. I never gave up hope that maybe he'd surprise with a heartfelt card.  As the years went by, he sometimes gave me the kind of card that you'd find in the "funny valentine" section of the card rack.  But this year he came through with a lovely card along with a gift certificate to my favorite nail spa.  

I remember the first Valentine I ever made.  I put so much school paste on it to adhere the red crepe paper to the edge of the big poster board heart that it just all mooshed together pretty much ruining the fluffy edge into a gooey mess.  I was so proud of it even though it took days for it to dry.

Another homemade card I really liked was the one I made for my husband.  It is tastefully done with not too many gushy wording and only the slightest bit decorated.  It does have a polka dot bow on it, though.  I just couldn't resist that part. I love this card.  I've given it to him for the sixth year in a row and he has yet to notice.  For some oddball reason, that makes me very happy and I look forward to giving it to him every year.  Maybe next year will be the year that he notices.  But the question is:  Would I notice if he gave me the same card every year????

By the Sea

We spent the first four days of this week at Seaside with two other couples.  The weather was a tosspot of wind, rain, stronger wind, more rain and louder wind.  Our fourth floor view gave us plenty of opportunity to study the weather and some strange green lights that we saw on the beach one night.  What the heck were those, we all wondered.  Alien beach beings? A new type of ocean critter that comes ashore at night to glow in the waves? Maybe a new kind of metal detecting activity? Finally, late that night Greg noticed the green lights leaving the beach and heading back toward the Promenade on one of the paths through the grass.  We all huddled together at the window trying to see what was happening.  All we could see were two human figures who eventually hopped the barrier from the sand onto the walkway and then disappear into the darkness. I guess we'll never know what they were up to.

We stuck to the warmth of our hotel rather than venture down to the beach but did get out to eat some dinners here and there along Broadway. We window shopped at the stores that remain open during this slow time of the year and spent lots of time looking for a place to buy chocolate to satisfy someone's craving (gee, I wonder whose) and ended up at the Arcade.  This is where one of the highlights of our trip occurred.  We rode the bumper cars!  We laughed just the way we did when we kids but what we laughed at the most was the act of getting ourselves into the cars.  I would liken the sight to trying to load elephants into bathtubs.  You can actually get them into the tubs, but how do you get them out?  That was the cause for even more laughter at the end of our ride. Seaside is just as much fun as it ever was.

2013

Here are my words for the New Year.  I borrowed them from Chekhov.

We shall find peace,

We shall hear the angels.

We shall see the sky

sparkling with diamonds.