Ten years ago today my father passed away. The phone rang just after 4:00am the morning of the 4th of July, 1999. It was his wife, Shirley, on the line, sounding breathless and upset. I was alone. My husband was overseas, working at jobsite in Indonesia. Immediately awake and alert, I asked her what was wrong, my stomach going into knots. Was it my Dad, was he ill? "No," she said. "He was dead."
She had come home from a late shift at work (about 2:30 am) and had found him in the bathroom, where he had fallen. It had been a nightmare for her. When she called 911, the paramedics asked her to try mouth-to-mouth until they could get there. My Dad had probably been gone for an hour. I know she tried anyway. His body was removed and taken to the coroner's office for a partial autopsy. I guess that's standard procedure when someone dies at home via an unproven (unwitnessed) accident. He had most likely had a heart attack; his arteries were heavily plaqued, and he had already suffered a small stroke, which had left him partially disabled. Shirley had been working full-time (she was past normal retirement age) and had been trying to take care of my father as well. (They lived a seven-hour drive away). Her sister flew in right away from CO to be with her. I think her daugher travelled in from TX too.
I spent the Fourth of July that year alone, trying to deal with the shock. I was hoping my mother and her husband would drive down from Phoenix (two hours away); they didn't. My only family here was my son, who was only 19 and had not even seen this grandfather more than four or five times in his whole life. He really didn't know him. The one friend I thought I could count on that day bailed (after doing this more than once, she is no longer a friend). So, I wrote obituaries for two papers, called my husband in Indonesia, my sister in Canada, and grieved on my own. Tough day.
My Dad's ashes were delivered to his widow about two weeks after his death. She didn't plan any services. I waited several months and then took things into my own hands. My father had wanted his ashes to be interred with his father's in the family plot at the Mount Royal Cemetery in Montreal. So I planned a small memorial service to be conducted on the one-year anniversary of his death. In July of 2000, my son, my husband, my father's widow, and I travelled to Montreal. My sister came in from Toronto and met us at the hotel. We found an Anglican priest and had a very nice, quiet, graveside service on July 4th, 2000.
I wasn't close to my Dad. He was a hard person to get close to. My sadness and grief have been more about missing the father I never knew than missing the father I had. Does that make sense? Sadly, he didn't leave a huge gap in my life becasue he didn't take up much space. Like I said, he was a hard person to get close to. I tried. It is one of my greatest sorrows.
Here he is, as a young man of about 30. Here's another of him with my grandmother (his mother) taken when he was about 74 and she was 93. I took her to visit him in Nevada while she could still travel. (She was living with me at the time and lived to be 98.)
So, today I remember you Dad. R.I.P.
- Mood:
contemplative
I thought Facebook was sucking up my time. Well, it sucked daintily through a straw compared to the turbo-charge pull of this tornado: fanstory.com. Oh No. Another excuse to park my widening butt infront of my computer screen. I discovered this site (thanks to the ladies at WOW) last week and have been barely able to tear myself away. This is a great site for writers who want to hone their craft. Work can be posted for review; writers critique each other's work. Since I enjoy reviewing and editing almost as much as writing, and editing is such a great procrastination tool, enabling me to postpone any real writing of my own, you can see how FanStory is the perfect venue for me. Editing commercially ususally pays about 20 cents per page. This site seems to work the same way, only you get paid in 'member dollars', which you can use to market and promote your own work on the site to get more reviews. More reviews hopefully equals more constructive criticism which, in turn, leads to more growth as a writer. There are contests too! Some pay real money. All give you a reason to write -- a prompt and a deadline -- which is what most of us need to get going.
I think this link I have inserted will get you to my portfolio page. I have been playing around with a few tentative posts: a couple of six-word stories, an essay (a revised version of one I did last year), two poems (one where I played with structure and repetition for impact), and a poem for children using alliteration, as required by a writing prompt. Hopefully I will be adding to this portfolio. Been doing my share of reviewing to (1) get a feel for the type of work being submitted and (2) to build up my bank of member dollars. As I said, it's another great procrastination tool.
This has nothing to do with anything, but I caught this gorgeous guy in my backyard today, and just want to share:
(Hawk)
- Mood:
cheerful
Saturday, June 20:
Picked D up at the airport mid day. He'd been at a mine site in Peru all week, and I was glad to see that he looked pretty chipper as he descended the stairs to the greeting/baggage area. The previous day I had received an email from him, which I think was intended to reassure me that he was doing OK, despite the extremely high elevation at jobsite (15,000 feet). He had told me not to worry because the company had arranged to have an ambulance follow behind the consultant's trucks all day, just incase one of them succumbed to altitude sickness. This man totally did not understand why I didn't find this little piece of information re-assuring ! An ambulance bespeaks the very real possibility of a major medical crisis arising. And, quite frankly, I was concerned about the level of equipment in the ambulance: oxygen tanks or just brown-paper bags to breathe into? Conditions at some of these sites can be just a hair above primitive.
Sunday, June 21:
Father’s Day. Excellent day. D had a perfect day. Started out with a breakfast in bed of his favorite sticky buns and orange juice. The day was nicely balanced between opening gifts, time to relax, time with the kids, and a family dinner. Everyone coming over and giving their time was the best gift of all. His daughter lives out of state, but she sent him a wonderful story she had written and a poem. It was nice to see him enjoy his day and know that he is appreciated by all.
Monday, June 22:
Is there a worse feeling than turning the ignition key in the car and … Nada.. nothing....? Not a whirr or a plunk or even a chunkety-chunk-spurt, just heart-sinking, dead-engine quiet. Crap. Should have known. Car batteries don't last in the desert heat. It's more-or-less SOP to replace your car's battery -- no matter how expensive it might have been -- every two years. Turned out we had last replaced the battery in August of '07, so we were two months under the wire with the warranty, meaning we could get a free replacement. The problem was getting the car to the dealer to get the darn battery out, checked and replaced. It was in the garage, next to the vehicle we were going to have to use to get it jumped, but too far away for the cable to reach. Not to mention, it was practically in the lap of the furnace and water heater, both gas, and paranoid me was terrified of sparks causing an explosion and blowing us all into Kansas. We managed to get the car into neutral (which it wasn’t happy to do without being started first), and D pushed it part way out of the garage as I rode the driver’s seat ready to apply the brakes – the plan was to just get the car part way out of the garage but prevent it from rolling backwards down our sloping driveway into the street. Long story short - D got it jumped and started, made it to the service center before they closed, and was home in time for dinner.
Tuesday, June 23:
Upside of the day: Two-hour dance lesson today: first hour cleaning up our rumba and cha cha with our usual instructor, David, followed by an hour of Argentine Tango with Jenny. Worked out really well, actually. Still cannot believe D took time out of his work day to do this ! I’m loving the Tango. Great fun. Lots of interesting footwork.
Downside of the day: It is 100 plus G-only-knows-how-many degrees outside with a nasty wind blowing. This weather is for lizards, and lizard hunters, only. Anyone in the Portland area interested in a having a house guest? Do you take dogs? Do you have lizards?
- Mood:
complacent
So besides diddling around in Facebook cyber space, what else has been going on in "real life' ?
Well, for starters, on Thursday evening, about 10:00 pm, D and I thought we heard a muffled explosion-type sound coming from somewhere close by. We stepped outside to see what we could see, and....nothing. So, we shrugged it off and put it down to 'one of those things'. Here is the lesson: if you hear a loud, unexplained sound, unless you know for sure that a jet has just passed overhead and broken the sound barrier, don't ignore it. Twenty minutes later I decided to add a few more items to the recycling containers, which were already on the curb. Hit the garage-door opener button to go outside, and ... nothing. The garage-door wouldn’t budge. Yelled for Mr. Fix-It to come and do some mechanical magic, but his magic wand didn't seem to be working either. He soon discovered that the big spring in the upper middle of the door had blown apart and had snapped wire cables in the process. It's a BIG spring. It made a very loud CRACK/BANG. We couldn’t even open the door manually. D wasn’t going to be able to get his car out of the garage on Friday morning to get to the office. Long story short, we called an emergency number for electronic garage doors (guess this happens a lot) and were able to get a repair guy out the next morning at 7:30am. Well over $600 later, we now have a working and essentially rebuilt garage door. The only thing left to break is the motor, which will probably conk out the minute D leaves for Peru on Monday. Trust me, mechanical devices know when he's not here.
The Argentine Tango classes are coming along nicely. Learned some great moves this week. Well, OK, four new patterns. But that's four more than I knew three weeks ago. D will miss our class this week, but I'm going to go on my own. I'm loving this dance. Here comes another addiction. At least this one burns calories.
My Aunt died on Thursday. She was one of my mother's younger sisters. A hell of a lady. As a young woman she very much resembled Elizabeth Taylor. Kept that black hair well into her sixties too. Because my parents left England before I was born, I grew up not knowing any of my aunts, uncles or cousins, but I got to know Aunt Heather through letters. We began writing to each other in the early '90s, after my maternal grandmother (also in England) passed away. Aunt Heather's letters and photos became my window into the family I wanted so much to be a part of. We shared secrets and gossip and stories in that special, free & intimate way people are comfortable doing when they get to know each other through letters. I was finally able to meet her (and over 50 other relatives) in 2002 on my first (and only) trip to England. She was as warm and wonderful in person as she was in print. She will be missed by many.
(To further explain, my mother was about 19 when she left England and her sister, Heather, was only about 8-years old, so even they didn't know each other well. It was 30 years before they saw each other again, when my mother made her first trip 'home'.)
And, on a happier note, please check out the RoseCitySisters link on the sidebar for a story of mine, which they kindly accepted for publication on their site. It's number 7.
- Mood: pensive
- Music:dance practice videos playing in the background
Here's just this week, starting with Memorial Day: Took the dog for an early walk; did quick-pass straightening up around the house; threw some packing boxes in the car and drove the 11 miles or so to C's house, where another friend was joining us to help C get packed up for her move; spent the next few hot hours sorting, cleaning, packing, and marking boxes; Ch then decides we should caravan up to the new place and do a first drop -- the drive was about 32 miles from mid town to way out of Tucson, past the small village of Catalina, and then a hill climb on dirt roads to the house C is going to be renting from yet another mutual friend; we unpacked my car first so I could dash home (27 miles) just in time to shower and change so D and I could make it to our dance class on time; stopped home long enough after dancing for an hour to feed the dog, leash her up, and head over to a neighbor's house for dinner on their patio. Was this enough for one day? Of course not. D and I were leaving the next day for Sedona, so we were both up until about 11:30 pm finish our packing, watering plants, and getting organized so that we could be on the road by 9:00 am the following morning (the 26th).
On the way to Sedona we stopped in Phoenix to visit my mother at the adult care home and then hit the deli for stuff to take with us to stash in the fridge in our room. We left Phoenix by about 1:00pm and somehow (with the help of a radar detector) managed to arrive at the B&B in Sedona by about 3:00pm. Explored the creekside grounds a bit, then D crashed for a lengthy nap. I had the good sense to use this time for a long soak--book in hand--in a scented bubble bath. Marvelous!
The next day, after breakfast, we drove out to West Fork and enjoyed a leisurely a one-hour hike followed by a bit of shopping in the touristy little stores in Sedona, then a couple hours of exploring along the creek. Found time for another bubble bath before I had to dress for our dinner reservations at Rene's (an indulgent French restaurant -- it was a 10th anniversary celebration).
We were on the road the following morning by 10:30 so that we could make it back to Tucson (D ended up with a speeding ticket on our way through Phoenix this time) to pick up the dog at our friend's house, lavish her with attention after having left her for two nights(Bad Humans), and then get to the dance studio by 6:00 pm for our first Argentine Tango class.
Friday (yesterday) was devoted to unpacking, catching up with laundry, trying to get back into the dog's good graces after leaving her, making up the guest room, and hitting the grocery store in anticipation of my stepdaughter's (and her crew of three dogs) arrival from CA late that night. Today (Sat) we've been out to breakfast with A, dropped her car off for servicing, caught up a bit, and I'm now making a huge pot of chicken green chile to keep the troops fed this evening. Tomorrow I am going to sleep in ! And work on slowing life down. Maybe. After I walk the dog and catch up on emails and fit in a bit of dance practice and...... I am beginning to suspect that I might be incorrigible, or maybe just manic.... can't decide which might be worse.
Anyway, here's a couple of pictures from Sedona. In a day and a half I managed to take 66 pictures!
The creek (Oak Creek) by the B&B and the cliffs along the West Fork Trail
Part of the grounds at the B&B, looking down from the lawns to the creek; then the porch of our room (the BEST room).
- Location:quick break in computer room
- Mood:
hyper
Actually, it’s more like Snakes and Frogs, No Fun for the Dogs.
And what the hell is she on about now, you ask? Desert dwellers. That’s what. Indigenous critter desert dwellers.
The longer I live in the Arizona desert, the more convinced I am that most of us humans – indigenous peoples excluded – have no bloody business here. It belongs to the rattlers, scorpions, tarantulas, bad-tempered javalinas, hawks, coyotes and, let’s not forget the millipedes. We were not meant to live here, and I believe that our domestic canine friends – indigenous canines excluded – would be in complete agreement with this point of view, were they able to offer their opinion. This time I am not even bitching about the relentless, suffocating heat; it’s the unsociability of the creepier of the creepy-crawlies that have me in a snit. Most of you know me as someone who appreciates wildlife in all its diversity and forms, but some of the wildlife in these parts are unsociable enough to make it just plain hard for even me to get all warm and fuzzy about their proximity to my home and, more importantly, my dog.
It’s only May and I’ve already seen three rattlesnakes. Three. That’s three too many. And then this evening I stepped out onto the patio and almost stepped on a large toad. A toad. In May. They aren’t supposed to show their gnarly little heads until well into the rainy season. Now it’s not just the proliferation of rattlesnakes that keeps us scanning the ground every time we take the dog for a walk, now we have to worry about poisonous toads in our backyard, two months too early.
In Arizona we have a critter called a Colorado River Toad. They secrete a substance that can be lethal to dogs. If your dog is foolish enough to wrap its mouth around a Colorado River Toad, and you are fortunate enough to catch the dog in the act, the standard operating procedure to save your dog is to immediately rinse the dog’s mouth with a strong stream of water from the garden hose (sideways across the mouth, of course), for a minimum of 10 minutes. Then you hope to God the dog doesn’t have seizures or begin to foam at the mouth, and you rush to the nearest emergency Vet. Crap. Made one mad dash last summer. Don’t want to have to repeat it. So tonight, immediately after my toad encounter, I had to bring the dog in. She was happily persuing lizards on the patio (she never catches them), and I completely spoiled her fun. Can't take a chance with toads. Was this particular toad a CRT or a standard, garden variety toad? I have absolutely no idea. Toads don’t bother to introduce themselves and, even if you get down eyeball to eyeball with the toad in question, it’s very hard to tell from its markings. This evening we decided to err on the side of caution. I ushered Lizzie into the house while D captured the toad and then released it in the desert about 100 feet down the street. Let's just hope it doesn't find its way back. I wonder if it was a bachelor toad or if it has a family hiding somewhere close-by, lighting little toad candles for it to find its way home.
Anybody in Cleveland or Seattle or anywhere else want to trade houses? Anyone with alligators in their backyards need not apply.
- Location:computer room
- Mood:
aggravated - Music:NCIS reruns on TV
A Quick Synopsis:
The main character, Mackenzie Phillips, was lost in what he called "The Great Sadness". It had been a few years since his youngest daughter, Missy, was abducted on a family camping trip. Her body was never recovered, but her bloodied dress was found in a remote shack in the back country of Orgeon. Police suspected that she had fallen victim to a serial killer who abducted and killed little girls. MIssy's father, Mac, could never come to terms with his daughter's death and everything he had ever been taught about God. He was spirtually adrift. Then, one afternoon he receives a note inviting him back to the same shack which he believes to be the crime scene of his daughter's death. The note was signed 'Papa', his wife's personal nickname for God. Telling only one friend what he is going to do, he makes the trek back into the wilderness to the shack, half expecting to find the serial killer waiting for him. The weekend completely transforms Mac's perspective on life, God, and relationships.
A Few Thoughts:
Not being religious, I read this book through a skeptic’s eyes. I, like Mac (the main character), have a love/hate relationship with religion and today's right-wing brand of Christianity is completely offensive to me. So, as soon as I discovered that it was a story of religious transformation, my guard was up. However, I found the book to be - first - extremely well-written, thoughtful, and engaging and - second - very acceptable to me as a religious philosophy/doctrine. Sadly, it is a work of fiction. I repeat – FICTION. This story presents William P. Young’s ideal scenario of who God might be and of what our relationship with God (if God exists) could be. If this book were a memoir, Young would have had me hook, line, and sinker. But, and I can't say this enough, this is a work of fiction.
That said, it disturbs me that the philosophy presented in The Shack is becoming the basis for a movement, so to speak. As much as one wants to believe in the all-loving, forgiving, non-political, non-exclusive, institution-hating Jesus/God presented in the story, popular appeal just doesn't make something true. If it were to be true, I would be the first one in line to develop a relationship with God. As things stand, I remain a skeptic.
I will, however, look for a copy of this book to add to my personal bookshelf. (I have to pass the bookring copy along to the next reader.) There are ideas flying off these pages that I want time to re-read and mull over: the evil in the world being a result of free choice and free will; God working to ensure that bad choices somehow result in an ultimate good; no one -- not even believers -- being protected from hurts and tragedies; God not being a Christian per se. in our narrow definition of Christianity; forgiveness being a powerful force for reconciliation and healing ... many, many things to think over here. The book is intelligently written. It is comparable in tone to Ishmael by Daniel Quinn in terms of presenting a thought-provoking, fresh perspective on how humans perceive the world.
- Mood: contemplative
- Music:tapping of dog toenails
Added small, black shelves and one more Warren Kimble "Fat Cat in a Tub" piece to the main bathroom. Looking out of the bathroom into the hall, you can see where my wonderful home-repair/handyman guy built a set of bookshelves into an alove in the short hallway. Have to stain the wood (Aspen) and figure out which set of bookshlves to unload. Then B hung the black shelves I ordered from Studbridge Yankee on a short section of wall in the Great Room. I was finally able to put out more of D's Asmat art and related books (from Indonesia). Not pictured: an additional set of decorative shelves in the bedroom, similar to those holding the Asmat art, only a reddish-toned wood and triangular configuration. Made a few other changes here and there (lots of re-arranging of 'stuff' and a new butterfly-design throw with cushions for the couch).
D never knows what he will find when he comes home. This trip he was gone almost a month, which gives me way too much time to rethink the house.
Hope to buy some wood stain today. Once I get the new, built-in bookshelves filled and other bookshelves unloaded, I can start re-working another couple of areas of the house. Need D to take another (hopefully, shorter) trip so I can get the rest of hallway, where the new bookshelves were built, painted. My painting style makes him crazy. Better to do it when he is out of town :) (Hint: Met a friend for lunch, who asked me if I had been painting again. Curious, I said ,"Yes" and asked her why she would ask. Guess I had tell-tale streaks of paint in my hair, something I discovered I am known for !!
- Mood:
satisfied
She looks Absolutely Fabulous, Dahling. Found a groomer who knows how to properly groom a rough-coated dog (by "pulling" or "stripping" the coat). Love this lady - Mary Alice at Groomingdale's. Took Lizzie in today for her first, real groom. And, YES, I know I said I would learn how to do this myself. I did pick up a few tips, so I should be able to keep the little princess tidy between grooms, but it was wonderful to just drop her off, have brunch with a friend, and then pick her up a few hours later, looking wonderful and happy and not mad at me for messing about with her coat.
The grooming area doubles as a play area for the dogs: some are there for doggie day care and some are being groomed. Quite a mix. Several flavors of terriers, a huge Bouvier and also a standard Poodle, and everyone was getting along like kids at dance class. Lizzie looked terrified at first and was ready to bolt for the door, but when I picked her up, she was mixing with the crowd and having a great time. Like I said before, my dog has a better social life than I do.
- Mood: cheerful
Joined Facebook at the urging of a friend. Don't know exactly how to use it. Won't be searching for old classmates or long-forgotten work buddies (if they were real buddies, we'll still be in touch). I have no huge desire to hunt up relics from my past and -- luckily or unluckily, depending on your point of view -- I can control who can find me by which surname I choose to use. Yes, there is a story here but I will have to know you very well to share it, and you will most likely have to ply me with alcohol to get all the dirt.
Saw a travelling stage show of Mama Mia last night. Every minute of it was an absolute joy. So much energy flying off that stage. Went with a girlfriend. She managed to snarf us tickets in the second row, almost in the middle. I love being close enough to see the actors facial expressions and hear the dancers feet hit the floor. Really an excellent production. I came home with a poster signed by all the cast members. I will have tell my husband that I bought it. I actually got it for making a cash donation (the company was raising money to help victims of AIDS). D has no problem with me making donations; he just wants a paper trail and receipts for taxes. I truly do try to stay within the guidelines but ... guidelines are simply suggestions, right?
Lizzie and I started a new class today. We are working on the 10 areas she will have to pass to test for her Canine Good Citizenship. My trainer wants this certification to really mean something, so she bumps it up a notch or two. She won't let the evaluator use a familiar dog for the pass-by, and she won't let you hold your dog while a 'stranger' checks its teeth and touches its paws. I'm all for her approach. Looks like The Lizzie and I will have lots of homework to do.
The home-repair-buy-from-heaven spent half a day here this week. There is nothing this man can't do. He's coming back next week to build some bookshelves into an 'alcove' bit of wall where I have been hanging family photos. The bookshelves will maximize use of this space. I have to get the wall painted on Sunday (my only free day) before he comes in to work. It's a tight space to paint. Now that I look at it, I hope I can fit a ladder in there (a little hallway between the guest bath, the guest room, and my computer room). Geez, I hope I can get the ladder out of the garage.
Been writing a bit. Submitted a short piece (400 words) to the AARP bulletin (they will receive hundreds of submissions but topics/deadlines spur me to write). I have been procrastinating something awful with my writing. trying to work on another piece. Have ideas floating around but haven't come up with the right angle yet.
So, I didn't post here about this, instead I sent out a photo and a note out to some of my friends with whom I share emails. I had my 45-minute coaching session with Ron Montez last week. Just walking into the studio and seeing him standing there (he was coaching the owner and one of her advanced dancers when I arrived) was a moment I will never forget. It was such a thrill for me to have this amazing, championship dancer gving me tips AND to actually dance a few steps with him. I was smiling for days.
Been catching up with friends, one by one, while D is away. Meeting Ch for lunch tomorrow and then having lunch on Monday with SC. D will be back in country next Thursday. Next week will be a mad dash to get the house looking decent and to find time to work a bit more on the yard...suppose I had better color my hair too and not pick him up at the airport with potting soil under my fingernails either :)
- Mood: content
I take a lot of garden photos when the light is very low, just before twilight. I think the lack of glare from the sun intensifies the colors, even if you do get a bit more shadow. Took this today around 5:00pm.
Can you see the tiny, striped spider sitting on the upper, right petal?
- Mood: pleased
- Music:Whoops... doorbell
Just wanted to share a bit of Arizona spring with you. It's short-lived, but lovely. This is the first of our Louisiana Iris to bloom this year. We dug out an area about 4 x 8 x 2, which we lined with plastic to hold water and keep it sort of 'boggy'. The plants have done extremely well and put on a great show for a few weeks every year.
My hibiscus bush is coming back to life. I keep it wrapped during our winter months and wind small light bulbs (Christmas-type lights) around the main trunk to keep it warm. It's in a protected location (some afternoon shade) and will bloom all summer.
These little guys are only about six-inches tall at best. They are wildflowers that come up along one side of the house (no water, just desert dirt). They don't transplant well; I've tried. We plan to gravel this area and lay a flagstone path. I'm hoping they will still come up throught the gravel (decomposed granite).
These are Arizona bluebells, growing in the rocks between our house and the neighbor just above us. Every year I fight with the Home Owner's Association over these flowers, which they insist on calling weeds. Once the blooms are spent, I'll get out there and make the HOA Nazis happy and pull out the dead plants, being sure to scatter the seeds well in the process !!!!
I forgot to take pictures of the frothy, yellow, blooms on the Palo Verde trees. Will try to remember to take my camera with me next time I am out and about. Sadly, there will be no showy, pink, blooms on my favorite cactus this year. The bunnies ate the cactus plant to the nubs. They just chomped it back like it was an apple. Can't believe it's gone.
- Mood: happy
- Music:gotta turn off the TV
Just as we are starting to get our dancing feet under us, D has to leave for a month (Indonesia again). Blast. A long interruption in our lessons and practice time is likely to put us right back at Square One. We can't really afford a month of not dancing together. We have found a great tool, though, to help us practice by ourselves and review our steps. At the end of each lesson, D takes short videos of the instructor dancing with me. D can then see exactly what he needs to do to lead (if he can't lead, I can't follow), and both of us can review our footwork and patterns without getting into arguements about what we thought our instructor had told us to do. D has copied the videos to his laptop to take overseas. Not sure how the other engineers are going to react if they catch him waltzing away on his own. Retirement might come earlier than we planned !
I tried to add embedded code for just one of the videos, but it just wouldn't work, so I've just inserted the link to a few I uploaded to YouTube. If you check these out, please keep in min that I am new to ballroom dancing.
Hopefully, these links will take you to just two the videos: a rumba and a waltz
www.youtube.com/watch
www.youtube.com/watch
a cha cha:
www.youtube.com/watch
Just had to share this photo. Have you ever seen cookies like these ?!!! The studio hosted a Black&White dance party to end their Fiesta of Dance month (March). One of the studio regulars (a very advanced dancer and obviously generous person) brought a few dozen of these gorgeous cookies to add to the treat trays. The bowtie was D's concession to dressing up for the event: a white shirt with the black bow tie, and black jeans).
- Mood:
restless - Music:a rumba beat
My brother-in-law was almost killed on Monday. He stepped off a curb and was hit by a car. He was thrown 10 feet and did a 360-degree flip through the air. The only thing that saved his life was the quick reflexes of the driver, who managed to stop in time to just hit R (my BIL) rather than hit him and then run him over. R called my husband yesterday from S.A., absolutely giddy with the realization that he was still alive. He got away with only minor injuries and an overnight stay in the hospital.
Now, here’s the kicker. The accident happened in South Africa where R was presenting at a conference. R is an award-winning producer/director/writer of safety videos ! He evidently forgot to look both ways.
The irony of life is a bitch, isn’t it. You just can’t make this stuff up.********
I have decided that I am just hopeless with coupons. I spend time browsing flyers and clipping colorful coupons but, somehow, they never get used. It doesn't matter what kind: 'buy one get one free' dinner deals or 'cents off' on drugstore and grocery store items, they all get equally ignored. I love the whole idea of being thrifty by saving a few bucks using coupons, but I seem to be unable to turn theory into reality. I’ve tried stashing my clipped stack on the kitchen counter, where I couldn't possibly forget them, and then, of course, walked out the door sans coupons. So I put them in my car. Only when on the way home, with my purchases stuffed into the trunk, did I spot the pile of coupons placed on the passenger seat, where I wouldn't forget them. Refusing to be discouraged and determined to join the ranks of the economical shoppers, I re-organized and carefully inserted a fistful of coupons into an envelope, labelled it, and stuffed it in my purse with my grocery-store shopping list. Last week I headed into the store, pulling the list and coupon-filled envelope out of my purse as I crossed the parking lot I felt very self-righteous about the money I was going to save. I grabbed a shopping cart and … where were the coupons? They were gone. Must have slipped out of my grasp somewhere between the car and the store. Bloody hell. Today I just found an envelope of expired coupons in a storage compartment in my car – they were from last year. I give up. I think I'm doomed to be a full-price shopper. Someone has to keep the economy going.
*****
Catch phrases I hate.
Here's the worst: Free Gift. These two words together just make me want to strangle the announcer. What a load of crap. Isn't a gift, by its very definition, free ?? I hate marketing lingo. It diminishes us.
Here's the second worst: Guest. How many times have you been called a 'guest' in a retail store? Guest ????? Where's my cup of tea and why are you taking my money if I am a guest ??? I'm NOT a guest, I am a customer. I hate marketing 'spins'. I hate feeling manipulated.
I hate being directed to "have a nice day". A simple 'Thank You' for my business is more than sufficient. Don't stress me with being instructed to have a nice day.
And while you are ringing up my purchase, don't glom onto my first name and start using it like you are my best friend. I hate fake intimacy.
My bullshit tolerance seems to be lowering exponentially lately. Mabye I am just showing my age?
- Mood: moody
So, FYI, this is what the little bugger does. It manages to prevent whatever anti-virus program you have from running, and it makes it impossible to download other anti-virus programs from the Internet. In my case, it wouldn't even let me run a Defrag on my machine. Programs stop functioning, and you can't login to sites you normally frequent, like LJ. Clicks on Internet links are redirected to sites completely unrelated to whatever search you might be doing. Internet connections are painfully slow. It can allow hackers to take over your system. It's pretty damn scary, not to mention, a bloody awful misuse of techical talent.
When I noticed some of the above problems, I ran some basic disc cleanup software, but when Defrag wouldn't run, I knew it was time to bring in the Big Guns - my techie son. Just based on what I told him over the phone, he thought I might have a structural problem with my hard drive, and the plan was to either reformat or buy a new hard drive. Then he began to suspect the worst - that I could have a WIN32 virus hiding in my operating system. Now J is an electronics & communications technican by trade and so, understandably, working on someone's computer in his free time is not his idea of a good time. But, good son that he is, he dropped by on the weekend and spent a hunk of time running some anti-viral software he brought with on CD, on my drive, to eradicate the invader. That was Saturday. Then on Sunday, my husband found more information online, with some do-it-yourself instructions to rid one's computer of a Rootkit virus. The instructions came with a stern warning to call in a Techie if you were at all unclear about how to follow the directions. We were not only unclear, we were running blind. So Mom that I am, and not being at all above bribery, I called J and talked him into coming back over on Monday evening, with the promise of a beer while he was working and decent dinner to take home for he and his partner to share after he was done. Bless his heart, he came straight here from work and ran the painstaking, manual (DOS), line by line, seek-and-destroy commands to dig deeper to make sure the bugger was truly gone. And, so far so good. I've been able to defragment the C drive, and I am up and running again on LJ. It was more than worth an afternoon in the kitchen !
dinner - vegetarian (spinach) lasagne - also made roasted bell peppers (green, yellow, and red) with onions, bought some good bread and gave them some salad.
AND.... on Saturday afternoon I finally went out and bought some real, 'character', ballroom dancing, practice shoes. When I was in the store, there was a lovely young dancer trying on pink toe shoes. There she was, up on pointe, like it was nothing, totally unconscious of how beautiful youth is ! Her strength and grace (she was only about 15 or 16) was heartstopping. Oh to be that age again and dancing.... it was a bittersweet moment. No toe shoes for me, but at least I have some Capezios of my own now, even if they are just very basic dance shoes:
- Mood: satisfied
- Music:hum of working computer
But, back to grooming. Aussies have a rough overcoat and a thick, soft undercoat. The best way to maintain their coats is to pull -- or strip -- out the dead coat. Clippers shouldn't be used, except on the feet and maybe on backs of her ears to tidy. Aussie's also have a distinctive 'bib' and a 'ruff', and the cutest, tiniest, little cat-like feet, which should be trimmed to show. They are adorable little dogs, and I want her to have "the look".
Lizzie is a master of patience. She knows I adore her, so I have her trust completely, and she has tolerated my attempts to get her trimmed-up very well. I don't have a proper grooming table, so I put her up on an ottoman, spread out pictures from my Aussie calendars and breed books, keep the grooming handbook open and within sight, and give it a go. She stays put, which will give you a feel for the extent of her gentle and tolerant nature. I'm learning to hand-strip, use a stripping knife (I prefer to hand strip) and have also discovered that a haircutting razor gives decent results too. I commandeered my husband's beard trimmer to do her feet!
So, here she is, about 90 percent there. She's not breed-ring perfect, but once I get the coat on her back down a bit more and do a general tidying up, she'll look pretty darn good (at least in my book).
- Mood: pleased
"Load up." I direct her into the car. She's jumped into the back seat and is in her MuttHutt in 5 seconds flat. I zip her in, and we're off.
This is Lizzie's very special treat: a trip to PetsMart to peruse the fish tanks. She knows exactly where to go as soon as we enter the store. She veers directly to the left and stops infront of the tanks. There are several feet of aquariums lining two walls. Her favorites are in the corner. The fish are bigger and are easier to see. As much as this little dog dislikes being picked up, she stands waiting, looking over her shoulder and raising herself up a bit on her back feet so that I can reach easily under her, scoop her up, and hold her at the right height for ideal viewing. She's gained just enough weight to make my arms ache, and after the first few minutes I have to crouch with her balanced on my thighs. We'll look at the bottom row of tanks for awhile. She's mesmerized, mouth open, ears pricked forward. I pick her back up and we walk down the whole lengh of the row of tanks. She can barely contain herself. I can feel the tauntness in her little body. Her eyes are fixated on the motion of the fish in front of her.
I decide we need to shop for some doggie treats, so I put her down and we cross the store to find Greenies and Liver Treats. She smells the bags. She knows I'm shopping for her and she wags her tail, but her patience doesn't last. Not a dog to pull on the leash, she can't help herself and she turns us back to the fish section of the store. This is her special outing, so I humor her and pick her up again. Gotta stock up on low-calorie dog food, either that or start lifting weights, my arms are practically cramping as I hold her up.
Taken with my cell phone, looking over the back of her head, between her ears.
- Location:back from PetsMart
- Mood:
amused
Another week in retrospect. I last posted on Feb. 06; it’s now the evening of the 15th.
Activities: Been dancing. D & I have attended two group classes (ballroom dancing) as well as another more private lesson. We’ve added patterns to our basic rumba, and we are beginning to develop the muscle memory necessary to move easily from one set of steps to the next. Our next lesson is this coming Tuesday.
We also made it to the driving range last weekend and practiced our golf swing. The poor kid behind the counter gave me an “OMG – a crazy lady” look when I asked him if we had to buy a whole basket of balls, or couldn't he just sell just five or six balls for practice shots. I told him we would never hit them anyway, a basket would be wasted. He backed up at least a foot as he cautiously pushed the smallest basket of golf balls across the counter, keeping me in his sights the whole time. I could feel his eyes following me as we left the clubhouse (and believe me, he wasn’t looking at my ass). He was right; I was wrong. We worked our way through the whole basket and even hit most of them.
Also fit in a visit to the Chiropractor this week :) !
People: Caught up with friends. Went to a lovely tea shop for lunch last Friday with J. On Tuesday, Ch and N and I somehow managed to synchronize our schedules long enough to share a couple of hours of great food, drink and talk. N is here in AZ for the winter only and is busy dog-showing or judging every weekend, and C works full time, does freelance graphic design, and takes a class two nights a week, so getting the three of us all under one roof any more is a rare occurrence and a treat.
Today I was finally able to catch up with Jo (who moved back to England a few years ago); it took us three tries to find each other at home. We always end up finding the comedy in whatever current circumstances are derailing our lives. She's a great friend.
B and I fit in time today to take our dogs for a walk. Bailey, her West Highland Terrier had spent the night with us on Friday. Lizzie is at her happiest when she gets to see Bailey. The dogs adore each other; they are best friends.
Recent conversations I’ve had with myself: I decided that writing is one of the things I do best, better at least than most other things I do, but, unfortunately, not necessarily better than anyone else. If I think about it too much, it’s disheartening. I’ve lived one of those lives where you do what you have to do more than pursue what you want to do. This translates to not ever having the luxury of putting my interests first. (I know I am not alone here, and I am not whining, just observing.) The upside is that I have breadth in skills, but have never had the time to develop the depth that comes with time and experience. In words my mother would use (the master of trite), I am a jack-of-all-trades, a master-of-none. I’ve hit that age when one realizes that time is not infinite. I can’t say, “I have plenty of time to….”, or “when I grow up I am going to…”. I’m beginning to wonder what kind of legacy I will leave behind, if any. There is nothing I have painted or published, there are no award plaques or ribbons for achievements on my walls; I have neither quilted, embroidered, hand-knit a baby’s sweater, nor won a competition. And if my ashes are scattered, I won’t even have a gravestone to mark that I was here. This is not the best conversation I have ever had with myself, but it is becoming a running commentary in my head.
Valentine’s Day Outing: D & I spent a few hours at the Tucson Gem & Mineral Show yesterday. I’ve completely stayed away from the show this year. What I can’t see I can’t be tempted to buy. However, I did come home from yesterday’s trek with two new mineral specimens: barite and biotite. I also bought a fabulous book on minerals in America and another poster (framed and signed). Now I have to find wall space to hang it.
BARITE 
- Mood: contemplative
- Music:something annoying on the TV
And this old dog (don’t you dare say the B**** word) has spent the last week doing her best to prove the old negative adage wrong.
Had my first golf lesson last Saturday. The instructor knew what he was up against when he asked me what I wanted to accomplish with my lesson and I replied with, “I want to smack it”. Guess you aren’t supposed to do that right off. For background, you should know that I have a wood plaque, sitting by my desk, painted with the words " God grant me patience and I want it now". Probably should have shared that with the instructor before he committed to the lesson. Anyway, he spent about an hour with both of us, focusing on stance, position, grip and the fundamentals of the swing. All good stuff, but I still wanted to get outdoors on the greens and smack a couple of balls. The whole point of learning how to play golf is to be able to enjoy some of the most scenic areas of Tucson, which just happend to be the golf courses. I think I'm on to something here. So, to continue the story, I caught D giving our instructor one of those patronizing, just-between-men, don’t-even-try-to-talk-her-out-of-it looks. The instructor was a fun guy and a good sport and they were male-bonding, so off we went in a golf cart to the far end of the green and, guess what? -- smack it I did !!! It was great. D caught my hit on video, so my next adventure in learning will be to sign up on YouTube, learn how to upload a short video from my camera, and figure out how paste the embedded code on LJ.
Next on the 'new things' list was the first ballroom dancing class. I think the hardest part for me is going to be training myself not to move into a step until I feel the "lead" from my partner. It's that patience thing again. First night out we learned the basic waltz, second class was the rumba, don't know what's next but we'll find out tonight. Got to watch part of a group class (mambo), and it looked like a blast. We'll see where we go with this. The initial, introductory lessons are really cheap. I'm expecting sticker shock when they sit us down and work on selling us the full program. I'm really having fun with it, so.... hopefully we'll sign on for more. I'd like to focus on 1940s swing and on salsa.
The next adventure was a bike ride: my first in about three years (still learning how and when to change gears).
Ready to take on more I decided to sign up for knitting classes, which I did last Wednesday. They start in mid March. Knitting might teach me patience.
That not being quite enough, I've been working on learning how to groom my Australian Terrier myself. They have a unique look, and getting it right involves learning to use a stripping knife. (I'm also improvising with a hairdressing razor, which actually works quite well.) At the moment, Lizzie is about one-fourth groomed. Now, there's a real model of patience. Maybe my sweet and tolerant Lizzie dog can teach me that trick.
first dance class:
- Mood:
accomplished
My husband (shown coming into the house from the garage) arrived home with an armful of flowers for me last night: one for each year !
My birthday is Monday, and it's a big one - one of those milestone, I-can't-believe-I'm-this-old birthdays. I'm keeping it low-key (no party or big fuss), but D has planned some fun things for us to do this weekend to celebrate. In the spirit of my wanting to try new things this year, he has arranged for a golf lesson later today, and then, on Monday ( hold onto your hats girls), he has signed us up for ballroom dancing lessons, everything from the Fox Trot to Salsa !! I am so jazzed. This is something I have been wanting to do for years. Will fill you in later on how it goes.
(some of the tulips in a vase - he brought home bouquets of tulips, liliies, and purple irises.)
- Mood: excited
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