Rebecca Unpublished

Old is New

2012-01-25T10:08:00.004-05:00

I've been thinking about my grandma a lot lately. I suppose because I somehow have found myself "her age". What?! Is that possible? My fondest memories of my grandmother were when my sister would go to school and I would stay home with Grandma while my mother was at work. So I would have been about 2-4 at that time, which would have made my Grandma .... *gasp* ... my age. I am taking back all those thoughts of her being "old", that's for sure!
I have many, many memories of my grandmother. I have precious little tangible evidence of our relationship, however, and that makes me sad.
For Christmas, my sister had some of my grandma's old linens made into a spectacular apron for me! It's funky and fun and absolutely beautiful! Sometimes I feel separated from my very tiny family because as much as I am the same, I am very different. My grandmother, my mother, my sister ... they all embroider - I do not. They all cook and clean and embrace domesticity - I do not.
I do, however, like a good party! I do so adore filling my home with good friends and good cheer. And I do love to look relatively stylish while doing so!
With all of that being said, the apron was the perfect gift for me. The perfect way to encircle myself with all those wonderful memories!!
But the most special part of this amazing gift were the beautiful words and photos shared by the remarkable woman who made them for us. Her passion for what she does (and what she does is amazing) and her understanding of the feelings behind the fabric made me completely cherish that my apron was made with love. The love of my grandmother, the love of my sister, the love of my memories, and the love of a very dear, creative woman.
And I will wear my fabulous apron with pride and whimsy and pleasure ... because that's what my grandmother would have done!

http://theemptynest-janet.blogspot.com/2011/12/tale-of-four-apronspreserving.html

(please take the time to cut and paste this blog address to see exactly how beautiful the apron is!)

January Fun Day!

2012-01-18T13:59:00.000-05:00

Wordless Wednesday's Sister, Puzzle

2012-01-18T12:05:00.000-05:00

After the Holidays

2012-01-04T12:17:00.002-05:00

The Magic of Santa Claus

2011-12-21T08:54:00.000-05:00

I used to get very excited to go see Santa .... until I actually saw Santa! I never really thought the dude in the red suit at the Elk's Lodge (we didn't have a mall back then) was the Santa Claus, but I still became very, very nervous (I mean, they were surely connected somehow, right?)! I suppose things don't really change that much for children, huh? And I suppose that's part of the magic of Christmas ...

My sister and I with "Santa" in the late 1960's.

My sister's grandchildren with "Santa" in 2011.

Is There Room for Us?

2011-12-14T08:13:00.000-05:00

It Snowed!

2011-12-12T15:35:00.001-05:00

At Christmastime of 2005, I worked at Mount Vernon Estate. Happily, today I found my Christmas letter from that year.

It snowed today! That big, beautiful snow that proves each flake is different. The kind of snow that makes you wonder why some people actually hate it. And if you catch a bit of it on your tongue ... it truly tastes like Christmas.
I was in the atrium at Mount Vernon when it started to snow. Sitting in the round, glass room made me feel as if I were caught inside a charming snow globe on someone's pine covered mantel. The trees and landscaping were absolutely, breathtakingly, incredible.
"No estate in United America is more pleasantly situated than this," is how George Washington described his home in 1793, and as Mother Nature wrapped a light, fluffly blanket of snow around Mount Vernon's shoulders ... I, too, can think of no more beautiful place on earth.
I drove down to Old Town Alexandria after work to shop and bustle as we all do this time of year. The lights through a wet windshield made the old-fashioned street scenes look like a picture postcard. I wish I could paint, because that would be my inspiration. On a night like this, I would like to bundle up, hop in the old convertible, and take a city sleigh ride, letting the snow gently fall into my hair...
Our house looked cozy when I arrived home. A dusting of white on the holly trees outside and a warm golden light peering out through the windows, like loved ones awaiting my arrival. Three dogs curled up by the fire were surprised to see me, as if they had drunk in the snowfall like warm holiday cheer. The house was quiet and peaceful in remembrance of the season.
One last look out into our beautifully picturesque Christmas neighborhood before I went to bed ... and oh yes, it snowed today!

O Tannenbaum

2011-12-07T09:47:00.001-05:00

There is absolutely no rhyme or reason to the way I decorate my Christmas tree. I am not a perfectionist. My tree is not monochromatic, thematic, or even symmetrical. It's just my tree full of memories.
Each and every ornament has a beautiful glint of nostalgia for me. Even the newer ones that I purchased myself at Target, because I bought them the first year I could afford a bigger tree and needed more ornaments!
The only rules are that the angel goes on top, the white dove that was our wedding cake topper gets a prime spot in the front, and anything that makes noise goes on the bottom in hopes of catching a dog's tail from time to time.
Beyond that .... it doesn't matter. I don't care if they overlap and even the "holes" don't bother me too much. I'll hang an ornament that is broken. I still use the bread ties, pipe cleaners and curling ribbon on the oldest ones that we used in the lean years when I was a child. I still hang the ones that are so ugly we were allowed to take them to school to decorate the trees in our classrooms.
The antiques dangle in pleasant camaraderie next to the more modern pieces. My first Christmas out of the Air Force, I was broke. That year my friends, the brothers Wolff (heirs to Wolff Antiques), surprised me with a little tree filled with glorious ornaments circa 1970. I loved that surprise and I love unwrapping those ornaments every year.
No wonder a Christmas tree holds so much magic! It is filled with love and memories and reminders of yesteryear. And it absolutely glows with hopes and dreams!
Now, if I can just get Puzzle to stop being afraid of it and whip one of those low-hanging bells with her pretty little tail ...

You Better Be Good for Goodness Sake!

2011-12-03T06:59:00.002-05:00

I've been listening to Christmas music on Pandora while getting ready for work the last several mornings. I am attempting to induce the Christmas Spirit, and I think it's working! I just heard Santa Claus is Coming to Town and started LOLing with myself.
That song used to scare the bejesus out of me when I was little! Seriously? He sees me when I'm sleeping?! He knows if I've been bad or good?
So, you mean to tell me, all my late night lobbying to Cher and Captain Kirk ... all my well-prepared presentations to God ...
.... all for nothing?!
Santa KNOWS?!?!?!
Ugh.

All I Want for Christmas is .....

2011-11-30T11:00:00.001-05:00

A Really Good Girl

2011-11-29T08:47:00.000-05:00

This was last year's Christmas card ....

Christmas Eve was always my favorite night of the whole year! As we get older, that night changes from time to time – perhaps New Year's Eve or Halloween – but when you're a kid, it's Christmas Eve! I would go to bed all nervous and jittery and wake up excited to find the evidence of my goodness under the tree.
In the evening, I would take a nice long bath, and believe me, I could spend hours upon hours in the bathtub when I was little. They would have to drag me out of there all shriveled and shivering and sutff me into a new pair of pajamas (another favorite thing about Christmas Eve) and when my teeth stopped chattering, we would have a treat before bed. On the evening news, the weather man would announce that radar had spotted Santa's sleigh somewhere over … Canada? “What?!” My eyes would grow into huge orbs as I looked at my grandpa for confirmation. We lived in South Dakota and even I knew how close that is to Canada! “You heard the man! You better get your little self to bed!”, my grandpa warned.
So I would scurry off to bed, unable to sleep for all the nervousness. Who could sleep? I had a year's worth of inventory to take on my Goodness Levels.
Was I good enough for a puppy? I don't think so.
Good enough for one of those wagons with a fence around it (perfect for carting around puppies)? I doubt it, and anyway, since I wasn't really good enough for a puppy, the wagon idea was kind of moot. Was I good enough for the Sunshine Family? You know, I think I actually was that good! Yes, I was!
And that went on and on all night. The visions I had were rarely of sugarplums. No, no! My visions were much grander than that!
And it's still like that for me. I still want an over-the-top Christmas. I want the fantasy … the magic. The Hallmark commercial. I still go to bed nervous and wake up disappointed that Santa and his elves have apparently, once again, put me on the naughty list.
This year, I promise to be different. I won't do that to myself. I won't expect a puppy under the tree, which is okay because I already have a puppy and I couldn't love her any more if jolly ol' Saint Nick had placed her in my arms himself (although, how adorable would Puzzle be bounding out of a brightly wrapped box with a big red bow around her neck on Christmas morning?!)
And since Cher probably never did tell God to tell Santa to tell Jerry that I really have been a good girl this year, the one little thing I want for Christmas – a BMW convertible – probably won't be waiting for me (although how adorable would that look in my driveway with a big red bow around it on Christmas morning?!)
So I will put myself to bed on Christmas Eve in my new pajamas with my three loveable dogs and my charming husband and keep my visions to sugarplums (honestly, though, I am not even sure I know what a sugarplum is …. ) and I will be content on Christmas morning knowing that my home is filled with laughter and wagging tails and warm cookies and good health and amazing friends and a family that remains close in spite of the miles between us and … and … and …
and … maybe Santa will bring me just one little surprise … ?!
I really have been a good girl this year!

How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss

2011-11-28T08:15:00.002-05:00

I wrote this last Christmas but never posted ....

Long before Jim Carrey offered up his version, and even before, believe it or not, it aired on television in 1966 (narrated by Boris Karloff, no less), Dr.Seuss wrote a beautiful little Christmas tale published in 1957 called, How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
And I just read it aloud to my three border collies. That is the magic of Dr.Seuss: the rhythm and rhyming is impeccable! My dogs were enthralled. One cannot help reading the tale with a delightful pace and animation in one's voice. It's the way it was meant to be. And I had three little dogs tipping their heads from side to side like Lassie, as I read the story of how the Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day.
I cannot remember a time when I was not deeply in-love with the storytelling genius of Dr.Seuss. In fact, when the singers sang of Rudolph the Red Nosed reindeer, "You'll go down in his story", I was absolutely positive they were talking about Dr. Seuss. And I thought, "Wow, Rudolph! That's pretty good! If you go down in HIS story, you really are something special!" Because there was no greater storyteller in all the land than Dr. Seuss, let's give him a hand.
How the Grinch Stole Christmas is the time-honored tale of a very nasty, cave-dwelling, creepy creature who hated Christmas and had the geographic misfortune of living three thousand feet above the happiest place on earth, Who-ville. And every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot. So the Grinch concocted an evil plan to steal Christmas from Who-ville in an attempt to turn their happy singing into sad, sad boo-hooing.
But his plan backfired and the Whos sang much louder ... and ... merrier. He had stolen everything from them and they were still singing and rejoicing. And the Grinch then realized (the most glorious realization any one of us could have),
"It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes or bags!"
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store.
"Maybe Christmas ... perhaps ... means a little bit more!"
I think my own heart grew three sizes today, and perhaps, I believe, I like it better that way.

Merry Christmas!

Love at First Bark by Julie Klam

2011-11-28T07:52:00.004-05:00

Exactly 19 days ago, I boarded a plane for New Orleans with my friend, Julie Klam's, new book under my arm. (She is my friend! I can prove it on Facebook!) I read Julie's first book, You had Me at Woof! last year and reviewed it for a little online newspaper. (You can find it under Dog-Eared or type the title in the handy "search" feature in the upper left corner.) I was excited to read Love at First Bark.
It's an easy read, even for the slowest of readers such as myself, and I was able to get to get about 100 pages in before I started the waterworks! I was sitting next to a, we'll politely say portly, gentleman who was sharing my armrest and a good portion of my seat and feeling irritated, but I quickly lost myself in Julie's adventures in dog rescue and began the tears for her dogs ... the dogs she rescued, the dogs she tried to rescue, the dogs she loved and lost and the dogs who are still there pooping and peeing on her rugs. I cried for the whole lot of them!
I enjoyed a lovely mini vacation in the Big Easy! I laughed and laughed and bought a few masks and laughed and laughed and drank a few hurricanes and laughed .... I resisted the temptation to buy the I Got Bourbon Faced on Shit Street t-shirt, but came home with one of Willie Nelson flipping off the world! Ha! (I just ruined my dad's Christmas present.)
I was treated to Julie's wonderful chapter on New Orleans on my plane ride home! It was amazing reading Julie's adventures in the city I was just leaving.
And I cried some more.
I don't honestly mind public weeping if it's for a good cause.
This time I cried for the Pickle Jar Puppy and wanted to kindly ask the pilot to turn around so I could go back and get her. (I wish I would have done that.)
Julie Klam tells a wonderful story and possesses one of my favorite qualities in people: the ability to laugh at oneself! Once again, after reading her tales, I wanted to rescue another dog. Although I already had three mixed up rescue pooches, I could make room for another, right? She has such a delightful way of expressing how so many of us feel about dogs. They need us and we need them. Period. And I thoroughly enjoy reading the lengths so many fine folks will go to to help our friends in need.
I went directly to work upon landing and missing my dogs was the only thing that kept me awake for a very long shift. Three happy pups met me at the door and I slept a baby's slumber with my companions by my side.
The very next day, however, my sweet Allie's little body finally gave out on her and we lost her the following day. While crying for Julie's dogs and the rescue dogs and all the little souls out there who need our help .... I had no idea I would soon be crying for my own little angel.
We are devastated and depressed at our house. Wednesday, Allie's biological half sister, is mopey and lethargic. Puzzle, the puppy, is confused and tender. Our house is dark and different.
But I will say again: the sadness and grief we are feeling are worth it. I would not trade this for anything because Allie brought us so much pleasure and love and laughter. She made our home warm. I miss her with all my heart, but I am so incredibly thankful for each and every minute of our nearly eleven years together.
Adopt a dog. Read Julie Klam's books. Hug your furry friends! And weep if you need to ...

Rest in Peace, Allie Precious

2011-11-17T18:03:00.002-05:00

Allie
December 2, 2000 - November 17, 2011
A beautiful angel who loved to run and play ....
you will be forever missed ...

Allie

2011-11-16T20:58:00.000-05:00

I am the Son and Heir

2011-11-08T07:49:00.000-05:00

Remember that song?
The one that forced your barstool to eject you upon hearing the very first note?
The one that flung you toward the dance floor like your ass was on fire and your smooth dance moves were the only extinguisher?
That song was written and recorded just for you. That song made you feel alive. That song was yours! You owned it! And no other interpretive dance could truly depict the emotion of that song like your interpretive dance.
And you could dance the whole song without spilling a single drop of your beer …. or stopping to catch your breath …. or grabbing your thigh in agony ….
No wonder we were so skinny back then! We had five hours of aerobic exercise six nights a week!
But that song! Ahhhh, that was a great song!
Remember that song?
Yeah, well I heard it on the easy listening station in my car last night.

P.S.
No, I wasn't listening to the easy listening station! I was scanning the dial, heard the first note of that song and wanted to pull over, get out, and dance! Imagine my horror when I heard the Delilah-esque dj telling me I was listening to Soft Hits 104.7!

P.P.S.
Soft Hits. Now that's funny!

Sunday Best

2011-11-06T22:17:00.004-05:00

There is a church in Old Town that I pass on my way to work. On Sunday mornings, I see distinguished gentlemen in tailored suits laughing and waving and clapping each other on the back. Military men in full dress uniforms, medals gleaming in the morning sun. And shining women with smiles as big as their hats.

I want to join them! I want to be them.

And I know without knowing that if the light would only wait thirty minutes or so before turning green, I would hear the most glorious songs of angels spilling out of that little church ...

And I, too, would raise my hands to heaven.

The Boys on 7th Ave

2011-11-05T23:41:00.000-04:00

It truly is amazing how I know all the words to sooooooo many songs. I can't remember whether or not I ate breakfast this morning, but I can sing full albums in their entirety even if I haven't heard them in 30+ years.
So I really cracked myself up tonight while I was singing along with Simon & Garfunkel at the top of my lungs in my car on the way home! My WHOLE life, I thought the boxer took some comfort from the BOYS on Seventh Avenue.
And I remember thinking, even as a little kid, "Wow. That's so honest, man."

Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
... la la la

Well, I still like Simon & Garfunkel. I'm probably gonna continue to sing it my way, though. Like how the Rocket Man keeps burnin' all the shoes off everyone, even after I found out he was burnin' out his fuse up here alone. I mean, it just works better my way!

We the Animals by Justin Torres

2011-11-02T20:05:00.000-04:00

Some people believe in destiny. Fate. That our lives are predestined and we have few choices in the matter.
I don't know if I do.
I believe we are all faced with a series of choices and then faced with a series of consequences based on those choices. And each choice we choose presents a new set of choices and we go through life making choices and living with consequences.
I believe each of our choices stems from the choices of others.
And so on and so on.
I think that's life.
Maybe not.
I believe there are people who believe they have too few choices and I believe there are people who believe they have too many.
And sometimes I get caught up in these circles of thought and I make myself dizzy. Sticky with the webs I spin.
Some people settle into the life presented to them and some choose to make changes.
And this book made me think about these things more than ever.
“We the Animals” is an amazingly raw, heartfelt debut novel by Justin Torres.
It was edgy and deep.
This brutally honest book was so moving, I almost literally could not put it down. I completely enjoyed his writing style which was somehow revealing and emotional and vague all at the same time. I loved that this small book could absolutely cut me to the bone without ever being overly descriptive or gratuitous. The author compelled me to relate to a life that did not parallel mine in any way whatsoever. (Perhaps a little!)
I am actually slightly jealous of Mr. Torres and strangely proud of him, as well.
I loved this book unashamedly and positively cannot wait for his next novel.

Rainy Day at the National Zoo

2011-10-26T16:54:00.000-04:00

Once

2011-10-20T07:09:00.000-04:00

Once I thought
I had too much to give
and no one understood
and no one should receive
my heart
Once I thought
the world was much too cramped
would hold me in
and no one could believe
in my heart
I thought it would get better
I thought it would exceed
my expectations would outshine me
my apprehensions would concede
Once I thought
my life was so disordered
and no one understood
and no one could believe
my heart

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's a Bug!

2011-10-12T10:41:00.000-04:00

An Afternoon Nap

2011-10-06T12:05:00.000-04:00

My dreams can be vicious. Really, they are very frightening and surreal. They often scare me to the point where I have learned how to wake myself up when they become too brutal. I am somewhat convinced that my insomnia stems from nightmares.
Thirty years of insomnia as a defense mechanism.
The human psyche is a strange and baffling thing.
I walk around like a zombie due to lack of sleep most of the time simply to avoid dreaming dreams that I find far too horrifying.
Today, I am feeling under the weather. I have been working long hours and feeling an added burden of stress for the last four or five weeks. I am feeling defeated. I am feeling frazzled and exhausted mentally and physically.
So I have a day off and, as luck would have it, I am sick.
Seems about right.
I just took some cold medicine and turned on some bad television in hopes of inducing a long-overdue healing sleep.
I'm hoping for dreams of chocolate cake and apple pie ... of puppies and angels ... of green, green grass and weeping willow trees …

Trembling

2011-08-26T10:06:00.002-04:00

As a child, I remember hearing stories of my grandmother's late night visits with ghosts. One such story takes place while she and my grandfather were living on a farmhouse in rural Wisconsin (or was it Minnesota?). I don't know why they lived on a farmhouse when neither of them farmed, but I'm not writing the story – I'm only repeating it.
My grandfather worked for the power company and would be called away many a winter night due to weather induced power outages, leaving my grandmother home alone. She would go to sleep at night and in the morning, she would go downstairs to the kitchen only to find all the cupboards and drawers wide open and all the coffee cups, saucers, silverware, etc. strewn all over the room.
As the story goes, my grandmother would spend all day cleaning up after her otherworldly friends, flop into bed exhausted, only to wake up and do it all over again.
Now, I don't know why my grandfather never came home to help her clean and I don't know why it took all day (it's not like the dishes were dirtied), but in my family you learn at an early age not to question the details.
When I saw the movie “The Sixth Sense”, I really had a mini freak out when the little boy's mom entered her kitchen to find it in complete disarray! It made me a believer after all the years of silently questioning the holes in the story! I was frightened and pleased.
Coming home after the earthquake last Tuesday night was very much the same. The artwork on the walls was hanging lopsided, framed photos had fallen off the bookshelves, lamps tipped over. It was like a pack of drunken Wisconsin ghosts had hosted a party at my house! If ghosts wore clothing, I would have expected to see a bra hanging from the ceiling fan. (I think only the old school ghosts wear clothes and their underwear is completely different.)
So, while I was at work assessing a situation utterly foreign to me, and while three little dogs (I'm assuming) watched in sheer amazement, apparently there was an earth-shaking supernatural shindig going on at my house!
And that's my story.

Fly Girls!

2011-08-11T10:18:00.002-04:00

The first of my two flights today was harrowing. And by harrowing, I mean unpleasant. And really, by unpleasant, I mean typical. Since the noxious gas I smelled was seeping seemingly from my upright and locked tray table, I stopped blaming my husband and began blaming the delicate flower seated in front of me.
And, believe it or not, one of the 8 peanuts they gave me really was rotten (so I gave it to my husband without even wondering why he's the first to be blamed for any and all disgusting fumes).
But other than that, the flight was essentially adequate, I suppose.
The two sky waitresses were amazingly friendly, albeit ridiculous caricatures of actual women. One was a buxom, Southern Belle, with hips as wide as the horizon that hypnotically shifted down the aisle, gently tapping each seat as she passed. Her skin was tanned to leathery perfection with moles strategically placed to draw the eye up, up, up to her bleach blonde, stacked hairdo. Her eyes twinkled a bit under their neon blue lids ….
… perhaps she was simply tickled to be distributing faulty snack food.
Her sister was as skinny as a stick with the palest of pale skin tones. The kind of skin that just barely hides one's spider veins from public view. Her hair was spiked all the way to 1984 and dog dick red. Too much? Okay, let's just say her hair was obscenely red in bizarre contrast to her bluish white skin. She didn't twinkle as much as the first one, but she was nice.
The second flight was just average for me. I got in trouble for using my laptop.

Signs of Life by Natalie Taylor

2011-07-26T07:53:00.006-04:00

On March 12, 2011 my fourteen year old nephew, Brody, was killed in an accident. While I've dealt with death in the past, this hit me in a way I could have never imagined. Brody's mom is a dear friend of mine. Brody's dad is my husband's closest brother. They are more than family - they are our friends, our hearts. I've been at a complete loss for words for Brody, and I feel so devastated by that. I want nothing more than to honor him in a way he deserves, but I have been a failure. My heart is broken. My spirit is deflated.
I saw Natalie Taylor on an afternoon talk show one day and I was taken with her charm and demeanor. While in her early twenties, Natalie lost her husband tragically after only 18 months of marriage. She was 5 months pregnant. I immediately ordered her book, Signs of Life, for my sister-in-law.
Of course, I wanted to read the book before I gave it to Brody's mom. The last thing I would ever want to do is give her a gift that would hurt her even more. It took me a long time to read it. I would pick it up and put it down.
Finally I read it.
The author used her journal entries to write the memoir. I loved this. It was real. There were times when she was bitter and mean. Times when she simply could not allow herself pleasure or happiness. Times when she lashed out at her friends and family not even understanding why. It was honest.
Natalie teaches advanced English, so I enjoyed her references to classic literature and poetry. I, too, place myself into books as an escape or reference point to my life. I think of my favorite characters at various times as I travel, often blindly, through this world. I enjoyed Natalie's humor and honesty in dealing with her pain.
Each day, she pushed herself a little harder .... a little more. And each day .... each hour .... got a little bit better. Even when Natalie could not see it.
Everyone grieves differently. No two people feel alike. No one can imagine the depth of another person's pain. My heart aches each and every day for my family, my friends, for the loss of an amazing young life. But each day we get up and we try to be the people our lost loved ones knew us to be ... the people they were proud of.
Each time I see my sister-in-law's beautiful smile, my brother-in-law's kind eyes ... every time I feel a little snap in the air or a white feather floating softly by me ... I, too, see signs of life.

Brody and his cousin, Drew, chatting before a race. My favorite picture!

Becca Home Ecca

2011-06-04T19:10:00.002-04:00

Whatever that gene is that most women have, the one that makes you want to clean the house - even enjoy cleaning the house - whatever that thing is .... I didn't get it.

The Bird House by Kelly Simmons

2011-06-01T07:00:00.003-04:00

"Beneath the surface of any problem, if you scrabble a bit, you'll find a secret.
It may take a while -decades perhaps- not for your excavation, mind you, but for your desire to appear; for that childlike curiosity to float up again. Indeed, you may need an actual child to summon it, as I did.
But this is what drives us--the historians, the trash pickers, the gossips, the shrinks. And yes, the readers of books. We're all rooting around, teasing out other people's hidden reasons." [p.1]

Growing up in South Dakota, I was no stranger to waiting out a storm in the dank shelter of our basement. Dark, damp, cold .... it was a curious relief to the blistering heat of summer. I remember my mother going through old boxes of memories while we hid from the twisting summer sky. I remember seeing pictures of her in her senior sweater or smiling with a long lost dog. She told us stories of old boyfriends (one named Earl and one who spelled her name "Rocksy"), her best friend, Audrey Lindbloom (my spelling) and a girl named Twyla Caper affectionately (?) nicknamed Toilet Paper. And I remember thinking .... No way! There's no way she remembers all that!
Ha ha! And now 35+ years later I still remember the names of her old friends and stories told in the cellar some stormy night when I was just a kid. I think what has amazed me most about growing older is exactly how much we don't change! How much we actually do remember and how much we still feel .... very deeply.
The Bird House by Kelly Simmons stirred up these emotions for me in the most delightful way. I loved the contrast of stories told by the same woman forty years apart. How much she did not change and how much she still felt. It made me feel better about my own inevitable aging. Our main character, Ann, told a great story, for sure, while she struggled with her own fading memories, mysteries, feelings of guilt and love .... her blossoming relationship with her precocious granddaughter.
The book is full of mystery and humor .... pain and pleasure .... love and anguish. I couldn't put it down. Due to my own life getting in the way, I haven't been able to lose myself in a good book for a long time and I dearly missed it. This was the perfect read for the steamy hot nights of early summer. I was tempted to take a blanket, pillow, three dogs and this book down to the basement just for the sake of nostalgia, but I resisted!

Happy Eleventh Birthday, Wednesday!!

2011-05-25T05:58:00.001-04:00

Spaghetti Would Have Been Better

2011-05-18T12:25:00.002-04:00

Dog Days of Spring

2011-05-10T07:36:00.002-04:00

Puzzle!

2011-05-05T08:04:00.002-04:00

Finding Time

2011-05-05T07:17:00.002-04:00

I used to take the train every day. Although I couldn't say I loved riding the train, I certainly didn't hate it. It was a long commute, but it gave me a lot of time to read! And I did love that!! I was reading two or three books a month and that was an amazing escape from the hustle and bustle of the real world around me.
I have switched jobs. I have a great new job that pays for parking, so I no longer ride the train. Now I spend that time in traffic .... listening to morning zoo radio or singing aloud, depending on the time. I work a lot of hours and usually work through my lunch break, or visit through my lunch break, or run errands on my lunch break .... rarely do I read on my lunch break any more.
I am sad.
For a brief time I was writing reviews for an on-line paper and I was thrilled for that opportunity, however, I found myself speed-reading through books I wasn't even loving and ended up not enjoying the experience at all.
Finally, after struggling through a new translation of Madame Bovary, I gave up.
Then it took me nearly a month to read a little commercial break of a book titled, "Postcards from a Dead Girl", that I found on the shelves at my office. It was an interesting, humorous little piece about a man slowly (or rather quickly, in fact) going crazy after the death of his girlfriend. Miraculously, he simply cured himself in the end, which I found a little bizarre, but at least I finished a book!
Whew!
So, after noticing that no one has even opened my blog in over two weeks, I've decided I need to make time to read again! I have so many beautiful books to read and enjoy and I miss that time ... that escape.
So, as soon as American Idol is over and the tv shows turn into reruns ... I'm definitely going to read more! (Tee Hee!)
(And more photography, too!)

Spring in DC

2011-05-04T10:21:00.001-04:00

When There Are No Words

2011-04-27T15:05:00.006-04:00

I have had writer's block for a long time and I am embarrassed. I have not been able to find the words to say good-bye to a little boy who left us long before his time. I have always felt like I have but one talent - writing - and it is failing me now. When I want absolutely nothing more than to give my nephew, Brody, an honorable, fitting tribute .... words escape me. Words are all I have, and they seem to be gone.

Senior Moments .... Already?

2011-03-11T09:53:00.002-05:00

Twas raining cats and dogs yesterday. The kind of rain that sends vehicles hydroplaning into each other and off the road. The kind of rain that makes for extremely muddy puppies. And the kind of rain that keeps folks from shopping in full force. And so began my day ....
We were not terribly busy yesterday. I was working the closing shift and cut my staff down to the minimum required to function. We were able to close at the proper time (usually we end up closing much later) and I was happy thinking I would be home snug in my bed by 10:30pm. I am a creature of routine and quickly went through my procedures in a timely fashion. We were all walking out the door by 9:55pm.
I punched in my alarm code as I was walking out per usual but this time I received an error message.
Huh?
(I once interviewed a gent who said, "I don't mean to throw a monkey in your wrench.")
I was not familiar with the error message or what to do when I see an error message, so that really threw a monkey into my wrench, for sure! A series of checks and balances and trouble-shooting on the phone and 9:55pm turned into 10:38pm and I finally left the store secured for the night.
Right?
I was driving home through the rain. At that time of night with no traffic, the drive takes between 30 and 35 minutes. That is just about enough time for my brain to second guess itself six or seven dozen times.
While I vividly remembered checking and rechecking the locks, by the time I reached home at 11:15pm there was .01% of me that wasn't entirely positive the upstairs door was locked.
Drat!
I KNEW it was locked. But my stupid old brain questioned me.
Oh my God! Did I lock the door? I swear I locked the door! Oh no! I left the door unlocked!
So I grabbed my puppy, Puzzle, and drove back to work just to check. I won't even tell you what my brain put me through on the way back to work! It was quite nearly a full fledged panic attack, to say the least.
I pulled into the garage and took a very curious Puzzle with me to check the locks. THEY WERE ALL LOCKED, OF COURSE! The entire premises was extremely secure as it should be and always is ...
I loaded Puzzle back into the car and began driving back home again (it was now midnight). It was still raining and windshield wipers freak her out a bit so Puzzle was in my lap. I was in the far right lane when I stopped for a red light and two police vehicles stopped in the other two lanes next to me. I got Puzzle squared away in the back seat (off my lap) and waited for the green light. When the light changed, I proceeded with caution .... not too fast, not too slow. Don't want to get pulled over for any reason. I pulled forward at a normal speed and looked into my rear view mirror only to see both police cars still sitting at the stoplight!
Oh my God! Did it turn green? I swear the light turned green! Oh no! I just ran a red light in front of two police officers ....

.... it was green. I think they were just messing with me because I am an old lady!

Knowing Us (The B-52's Story)

2011-01-21T08:22:00.004-05:00

My husband's birthday is at the end of October and mine is 2 weeks later at the beginning of November. We were married shortly after Christmas (January of 1993). Needless to say, after 21 years of back-to-back gift-giving, well, it becomes increasingly difficult to be creative!
I usually do well with the birthday, okay for Christmas, and by the time it is our anniversary .... I'm out of ideas!
This year I saw that The B-52's were playing at our favorite venue, 9:30 Club in DC! Yay! I was thrilled! I booked two tickets and had a hell of a time keeping my secret!
A week later (the day before our anniversary), my husband asked me if I had the weekend of January 22nd off. "No", I said. "Really?", he said.
Really.
I do not get many weekends off so I was surprised that he was so confused about my schedule.
Finally, I asked why he was asking!
He said, "Well, it was going to be your anniversary gift. Is there any way you can get it off?"
Sadly, I said no.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I said, "You might as well tell me what it was because you're going to have to think of something else anyway!"
He said, "I was going to take you to see The B-52's in Atlantic City!"
Awwwwwwwwwww! How cute is that?! We got each other the same gift, albeit different cities. He was planning to buy the same thing I had already purchased!

Wednesday, January 19th, was the show in DC. I love 9:30 Club. It's my favorite venue for any show. It's like going to a regular bar, except all the bands are really, really good!!
The B-52's did not disappoint!
We like to stand on the balcony. You can see the stage perfectly from that vantage point and it's great for people watching. Plus, it's close to the cleanest restrooms.
I felt a bit cliche' as I stood on the balcony with my aching back nearly bringing tears to my eyes, looking out over a crowd of people that were probably pretty cool at one time. We were once a generation defined by our hairstyles and I found it extremely amusing to see a crowd of bald heads and baseball caps. We were once a well-choreographed wave in a sea of androgeny and now we're just a bunch of decent folks who still like a good show. Our dance moves may be a tad rusty (not me, them, ha ha), but we've still got it! Wish I could be as creative with my hairdos as I once was ....
The B-52's look a little older, but they sound fantastic! They are still having fun. Although Fred's shirt kept creeping up over his man spanx, and the girls look a bit thick through the middle .... they are still pretty damn hip and put on a good show!
.... now ..... what am I going to get Handsome for Valentine's Day?!?!?!

Puzzled

2011-01-19T10:16:00.004-05:00

My puppy, Puzzle, is about 7 or 8 months old. She was a rescue dog, so we don't know her exact age. Rescue dogs are fun! Sure, they may have a few issues. We don't know exactly what they have been through ... we don't know their lives before they enter ours, but they are a blessing none the less! Add to her unknown beginnings the fact that she is a border collie and you've got a recipe for some serious entertainment!!!
Puzzle came to live with us on August 11, 2010, and was approximately 2 or 3 months old at that time. She was shy and frightened and, honestly, had such a sad, sad look in her eyes all the time. We were worried about her.
She has two older "sisters" who, frankly, were not terribly thrilled to welcome her into our home. Wednesday came around and has become Puzzle's mentor and playmate, but Allie still scolds the pup simply for entering her air space.
Watching Puzzle grow and learn and come out of her shell day by day has been one of my greatest pleasures! She's a sweet and funny little thing and nearly as charming as Wednesday, which is quite charming indeed!
Recently, Puzzle has discovered her reflection. All puppies go through this and it is nothing short of hilarious when they do, but Puzzle had been particularly funny about it. She doesn't have an agressive bone in her body and her shyness has given way to curiosty over the last few months. So she plays peek-a-boo with her reflection in the fireplace doors. She peeks around the couch to see if the Fireplace Puppy is looking and then takes off quick as a cat into other areas of the house! Or shoots through the doggy door like she was fired from a cannon! It's hysterical!
Yesterday, she came up to my room to watch me get ready for work. All dogs enjoy this for some reason, at least all of my dogs have. There is a full-length mirror on the back of the door and Miss Puzzle caught sight of her new playmate. The best thing to do with a gal like Puzzle is to observe her silently. Fast moves still send her running, but if you sit quietly, you can catch some very entertaining antics!
Puzzle looked into the mirror. Backed up. Moved forward. Turned her head from left to right. Sat down. Stood up.
It was like she was trying to catch the Mirror Puppy making a mistake. Like she was testing it. Maybe she was even figuring out that Mirror Puppy was actually Puzzle!
Picture the scene from I Love Lucy with Harpo Marx. It was absolutely the funniest thing I have observed a puppy do in a long, long time!!!
I must say: rescue a puppy!! You will not regret it! Your life will be filled with entertainment and discovery and love and laughter. These are things every home could use a little more of, in my opinion!!

The Day Off Diaries

2011-01-13T09:02:00.003-05:00

Dear Reb Un,
Today I woke up knowing I had to write a book review for a book I finished on Tuesday and did not, frankly, love. I liked the book. I liked the premise. I simply had reservations. I sat down to write believing completely that I would have to tell my editor that I had nothing to give him.
And then - and believe me I absolutely know how conceited this is going to sound - I wrote a fantastic review! I didn't even have to go back and edit much! I didn't have to count my words and add. I had no idea how I would come up with 450-500 words for a story with absolutely no climax whatsoever, but I did it! And it's good!
Whew!
What a super fantastic way to start a great day!
I feel good!
This afternoon, I am meeting one of my besties, Sophia, for Happy Hour. I am so excited! It will be nice to get out of the house for a reason other than work and to LAUGH! Sophia and I always laugh ourselves silly when we are together and I am really, really looking forward to it!
Today's gonna be a good-good day!
Puzzle is tossing her bouncy ball around the room and it's making me giggle. I must go and play with her! I am freakishly in-love with my puppy!!
See you soon,
Becca

New Year ~ Same Ol' Me

2011-01-07T09:10:00.006-05:00

Dear Reb Un,
I am sitting here with my newly acquired addiction: coffee. And watching my 22nd episode of Lie to Me in a week. I don't feel like I have been writing enough lately, so I am starting The Day Off Diaries. I am forcing myself to write something on each day off I have. Even if it is lame and boring. I just need to write!
I used to write letters all the time. I would write letters on cocktail napkins, book margins, rolls of toilet paper. Just ramblings and musings and off-the-wall comments. I wish I had mailed them to myself. I am still friends or reacquainted friends with many of the recipients, but I hate to ask about the letters.
So, this is it. Letters to myself, Rebecca Unpublished. It may go nowhere and I'll stop, or I may continue and have a few laughs. Hopefully I won't unearth some long buried memories .... or more hopefully, I will!
So I am beginning this year the same way I begin every year, with self-loathing and sluggishness. I count calories, make lists and promises, try new products .... all in futile attempts to better myself. Perhaps this year I will try something additional (because I am still counting calories, making lists and promises and plan to go to Target today to pick up some magic eye cream): A Postive Attitude!
I am optimistic!
Well, if not before then, I will see you next Wednesday!
Love,
Becca
Pee.S. - If all goes well, there might even be a mixed tape in it for you! (They often accompanied my letters!)

Keith Richards ~ Life

2010-12-13T08:13:00.002-05:00

I guess I wanted Captain Teague. I wanted to hear all the antics. I wanted to hear the stories behind the stories. I really wanted to read Keith Richards’ memoir, Life. While I have never been a Rolling Stones fan, per se, they have always been in regular musical rotation in my life. I mean, “Get Off of My Cloud” was the number one song on the day I was born, so clearly, the Rolling Stones have always been there for me. So I heard things, you know? Read things. Some of it seemed ridiculous and exaggerated, and those were the stories that ended up being true. Keith Richards writes about rumors I should have apparently known but didn’t, which is fine because they ended up being untrue after all.
Sadly, however, I simply didn’t feel much passion in Richards’ storytelling. He obviously has extreme passion for his music and for other musicians. He names a lot of names. And I honestly enjoyed the first few sections of his book.
He grew up near poverty level in Dartford, Kent, England and learned life’s lessons the hard way, with daily beatings from the other children and living in less than humane conditions after World War II. His family was as colorful as he is and I enjoyed hearing the tales of his tenacity and of meeting Mick Jagger and the early days of not only the Rolling Stones, but Keith Richards himself. I wanted more of that!
He lost me in the late sixties and early seventies in a heavy haze of drugs. I was not impressed with his drug usage and grew tired of his roller coaster ride with sobriety and insanity. I am not a big fan of junkies, sorry mate.
I am often torn between feeling sorry for celebrities and feeling disgusted by the attitude. Richards seems to be baffled by the reasons why the authorities would stalk him to such a degree. “I’m just a guitar player, why do you care what I do?” I get that, but, additionally, they care what you do because you are a public figure and what you’re doing is harmful and, frankly, illegal.
Richards takes great care in describing the music. All music. He’s amazingly passionate about that and I am impressed. Strangely, however, he takes none of that care in mentioning the loss of family and friends or his feelings at certain key times in his life. He seemed to brush over those matters. It seemed very strange to me.
By the end of the book I was really just counting down the pages. I was doing the math (547 pages with 238 left, at 30 words per hour I should be able to finish this book by a week from Thursday) and I am not a math person! I love music and stories and poetry and passion. Things I thought I would find in Keith Richards. I wanted to hear that he didn’t really snort his father’s ashes (he did). I wanted to hear his side of the stories where people wound up wounded or worse after partying with him. I wanted to hear about his children and his love affairs. He didn’t delve into these topics with much feeling. It almost felt like he was trying to relate stories that he had heard about himself, not what he actually remembered or felt about them.
Unfortunately, I was rather disappointed by this memoir.

Happy Birthday, Allie!!

2010-12-02T06:21:00.003-05:00

Up until August, Allie was my baby. She's not crazy about having a little sister, but she has nothing to worry about! She is still my little precious. It's hard to believe she is already ten years old! Happy Birthday, Allie!!

Haunted?

2010-12-01T10:02:00.003-05:00

I think my puppy, Puzzle, is actually a ghost! I only ever see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s quick and quiet. I always feel like someone is staring at me, but when I look around, there is no one there. I’ll open the refrigerator in the kitchen and catch a glimpse of her to my right in the great room. Then I’ll turn to put cream in my coffee and I see her to my left in the foyer. It’s bizarre how quickly and silently she moves. Things turn up in weird places , too.... like socks in the yard, underwear in the living room ..... her kennel moves itself to the center of the room while she’s in it! I’ll feel a cool breeze and something brush by me, but in the split second it takes to look down, there’s nothing there .... just that feeling that someone is constantly watching me.
Except at night. At night I feel a nice warm little body next to mine. Soft breath in my ear and an occasional whispery sigh. The night my grandmother passed away, I was sleeping on my side. I felt someone sitting in that little crook at the back of my knees, gently rubbing my leg. Soothing.
That spot is where I feel my little Puzzle at night. Very soft and sweet.
My little ghost dog.

So Cold the River by Michael Koryta

2010-11-21T11:02:00.001-05:00

http://lorton.patch.com/articles/book-review-so-cold-the-river

You Had Me at Woof by Julie Klam

2010-11-15T17:31:00.003-05:00

http://lorton.patch.com/articles/book-review-you-had-me-at-woof
I was in a snit the whole way home after buying You Had Me at Woof by Julie Klam. Until I opened my door to three wagging tails, six shining eyes, and twelve little paws tap dancing in pure delight at my return. The happiness of my three dogs at the mere sight of me made me completely forget the jerk I had just dealt with at the bookstore.

Now, I realize there are people out there who do not know the warmth of a cold nose nor the pleasure of hearing a happy tail thumping on fresh linens. They don't know that a muzzle under the chin is a much preferred way to start the day than a blaring alarm clock, not to mention the sheer comfort of drifting off to sleep with a warm companion at the end of a long day. This book is not for those people, although it would probably do them a world of good to read it.

I have always been and always will be a dog lover. This book did not change that in any way. I can't remember a time when I didn't have a Schnauzer, Springer Spaniel, Border Collie or Mutt in my life. However, You Had Me at Woof (How Dogs Taught Me the Secrets of Happiness) was a funny, smart, delightful little book, extremely well written by Julie Klam. I have three Border Collies, dogs that are said to be of the highest intelligence. Klam states, "I never understood how that was determined. Were they found by their owners hooking up Bunsen burners and pouring liquids into flasks?"

The author takes us on her incredible journey of life lessons via dog ownership from her single days in New York City through marriage and motherhood. She is clever and humorous and the kind of person I would want as a friend. She became that woman by opening her home and her heart and accepting the many gifts that come with owning a dog.

And she wrote a beautiful book.

From learning how to share her life to learning how to mourn the loss of friends (the unfortunate thing about loving dogs is that a dog's lifespan is a mere fraction of our own), from choosing the right dog to letting herself be chosen, the author exquisitely reveals her innermost thoughts, revelations, concerns and comedies of life with multiple tail-waggers. At one point, the author believed the strange behavior of an elderly foster dog in her care was in preparation for her own death when the rather homely, geriatric pooch actually gave birth to two puppies (originally believed to be mice). As Klam searches for the ultimate career (which would allow her to spend even more time with her dogs) and debates motherhood and additional children, Klam learns she has so much more to offer than she could have ever imagined.

I, too, have rescued dogs and could completely relate to her hilarious and horrendous takes on the special needs these little misfits bring to the table. All dog lovers will ask, for the same reason I tend to avoid "dog books": Will it make me cry? The answer is Yes (I have the swollen eyes and aching head to prove it). But, as surely as loving and letting yourself be loved by a canine counterpart, it will be worth it.

Veterans Day

2010-11-11T07:02:00.002-05:00

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

2010-11-04T18:13:00.002-04:00

The weather began to change while reading this book. I was working a lot of long hours and arriving to the parking lot in the cold and dark, feeling sorry for myself that my life had become stressful and then, to add insult to injury, chilly!
The worn pages of my book, however, reminded me of my evil ways and the fact that my complaining, if only to myself, was not warranted.
I will never complain again!
I am extremely late in reading The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. It was published nearly eight years ago and I avoided it on principle for many of those years. I haven’t seen the motion picture, either. And, as with most of the books I read, I had no idea what it was about going into it.
All of that being said, The Kite Runner truly is a beautiful book. It was difficult to read ... gruesome, horrifying and sad, but extremely well written and moving.
Trying to summarize this story without ruining it or diminishing the feeling of it is like summarizing a soap opera without it sounding stupid .... impossible. But the fact of the matter is: The book is amazing, albeit tragic. It’s a story that will make you think about what you have, how you feel and where you would like your life to go.
To be thankful for the little things.
The things that matter.
People will always ask me, while eyeing one of my books, “Is it good?” Good? Well, no, it’s not good. It’s horrible.
But it is important and passionate and absolutely brilliant.

Mary and O'Neil by Justin Cronin

2010-10-16T08:17:00.004-04:00

As most people do from time to time ... or obsessively in my case ... I have been pondering the meaning of life lately. I am Andrew McCarthy's character in St.Elmo's Fire (how's that for an extremely poor cinematic analogy?) minus the pining and yearning.
And I did not find it while reading the anticlimactic Mary and O'Neil.
While I certainly appreciate the author's talent, insight, and writing ability, I just didn't feel any passion for this book.
I like the idea of weaving several short stories into one novel, however, when reading it cover to cover, it became rather redundant. And I honestly don't see how any one story could have stood alone. There was nothing to put me on the edge of my seat. Nothing to keep me from putting it down. The author told me what was going to happen several pages or even chapters before it happened.
While contemplating the significance of my own existence, this book just left me feeling sad and empty.

The Unnamed by Joshua Ferris

2010-09-23T08:38:00.004-04:00

Such an odd story.
I dream a lot. Many nights, I have nightmares. Sometimes I just dream strange things. Sometimes I dream the same dream many, many times. And sometimes, I can talk myself out of a dream ... or I will say to myself in my dream, "Oh, we're dreaming this again, are we?"
My brain plays weird games with me.
I'm used to it.
The Unnamed had that same essence of strangeness to it. It was just ... different. I didn't love or hate it. I didn't have any desire to put it down, but I didn't count the minutes until I could pick it up again, either.
It's the story of a man with an unnamed "condition" - mental or physical, no one knows - that forces him to walk without warning. For miles and miles through all elements and obstacles, he would walk. Until he was finished walking. Then he would sleep. Wherever he ended the walk. In the street, the woods, a parking lot, a place of business.
And the story is about what The Unnamed does to his life, his family, his career.
It was an odd story.
At times I was intrigued and interested and other times my mind wandered like the lead character ...
but in the end ... ?
It was just the end.
Very odd and quite sad.

Lost and Found by Carolyn Parkhurst

2010-09-06T10:15:00.003-04:00

I like reality shows. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed, either! I love a good social experiment and I always have. The hidden camera videos we watched in high school psychology classes were my favorite .... and don't forget Candid Camera! And now I love the Amazing Race and The Apprentice, especially the celebrity version!! I'll even waste a day watching those damn real housewives!
So it's really no surprise that I actually enjoyed this story about a fictional reality show. It's one of those books that you are embarrassed to tell people that you are reading it .... and that you actually like it!
No, it won't go down in my history as an all-time favorite or anything, but I did have fun with it for a few days and I'll admit it!

The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs

2010-08-28T00:43:00.005-04:00

I heard this book was good.

Unlike the many fine folks in Blazing Saddles who heard the sheriff was hung,

I heard wrong.

Meet Puzzle!

2010-08-16T21:21:00.003-04:00

Five Year Olds Are Funny!

2010-08-09T17:31:00.003-04:00

My niece and her three kids are visiting from Illinois. My great niece, Isabelle, is five. She has a little brother, Isaac, and a little sister, Ivy. They are all adorable and so much fun! They definitely have more energy than I do, but I still wish we could spend more time together than we are able to now.
And this surprise visit has been amazing! Isabelle and I tease each other and giggle a lot and I thoroughly enjoy her clever sense of humor!
This afternoon, my sister, Grandma Robin, my niece, Leigh, and the kids spent the afternoon in Washington DC in spite of the nearly unbearable heat. We were walking through the Museum of Natural History with the two smaller kids in a double stroller and Isabelle holding hands with both her grandma and great aunt. As she tried to get us to hold hands with each other, she said, "Don't you guys hold hands?" I know she thought she was being funny, so I said, "Of course we do! We're sisters and sisters hold hands!"
Isabelle looked amazed! "You guys are sisters?!"
My sister, Isabelle's grandma, said, "Yes, we're sisters!"
I asked Isabelle if she really didn't know that we were sisters and she just looked at me quizzically.
Robin said, "Aunt Becca is my Ivy!"
Isabelle said, in a snide, under her breath kind of way, "Yeah, poison ivy!"

The World in Six Songs by Daniel J. Levitin

2010-08-06T08:53:00.002-04:00

I used to work as a manager at a movie theatre when I first got out of the Air Force. We played our own music while people were filing in to find their seats. At the later shows, I would play some pretty wild stuff! I would go up to the projection booth and peer out into the audience. If anyone was getting into the music, I would know they were "cool" (I was new in town and desperate to meet people)! It worked, too, I met my friend, Lori, that way. She couldn't believe she was hearing Sisters of Mercy at a movie theatre in Iowa!
Music is a huge part of my life. More than likely, it is a huge part of everyone's life. I never really stopped to think why that is, I just accepted and enjoyed it as a fact of life!
The World in Six Songs - How the Musical Brain Created Nature explains a lot of the "why that is". I think I would seriously enjoy taking one of Mr. Levitin's classes, but I have to be honest, it took me over 3 weeks to read this damn book and I found my mind wandering a lot! While there is a great deal of fascinating information on these pages, and my copy is super fat with dog-eared pages, it is really just a paperback text book and I have never been good at studying on my own.
The book is extremely interesting and well-written, but I think I would rather just sit down and have a conversation with the author. Especially since he seems to have conversations with some pretty amazing people (Sting, Joni Mitchell, Paul Simon)!!

Pregnant Snapping Turtles Do Not Like Beer!

2010-07-28T10:39:00.001-04:00

The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams

2010-07-09T10:13:00.003-04:00

Sometimes I think certain sections of my life would make an interesting play. I like the way a play seems to break it all down more than a motion picture.
More real - more raw.
More intimate.
While I certainly enjoyed "A Raisin in the Sun" and "The Sign in Sidney Brustein's Window" (both by Lorraine Hansberry) very much, I really felt connected to "The Glass Menagerie". The characters were vaguely familiar and subtly intense. Tennessee Williams was amazing like that.
Amanda (the mother) was strikingly simple and complicated .... and sad.
Laura was delicate and flawed.
Tom was restless.
Amazingly, Mr. Williams could take that .... just that .... and make a beautiful, magical, sorrowful moment that would last for all eternity.
Bravo!

The Alamo

2010-07-07T09:32:00.001-04:00

Two Beautiful Plays by Lorraine Hansberry

2010-07-02T07:53:00.004-04:00

Harlem
By Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

I have never read a play simply for the pure pleasure of reading a great story. But recently, I read two. A Raisin in the Sun and The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window, both by Lorraine Hansberry. I suppose I cheated a bit, because both plays came bound together in one lovely little paperback, but that didn’t make me love them any less. In fact, the commentaries between the plays were absolutely heartfelt and breathtaking! Lorraine Hansberry was a beautiful, funny, insightful woman who, in her abruptly short life, changed the world with her raw perception and clever, genuine dialog.
While Raisin takes us into the South Side of Chicago and a family clinging to, losing, and grasping to figure out and save their dreams .... The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window takes us to a very different dark place in American society with another ragtag cast of characters doing very much the same thing in their own way.
A Raisin in the Sun seems to end on a happy note, although we know the Lee family has a much more difficult journey ahead of them and Sign leaves us sad, angry and charged.
However each play is so much more than that. More than the stories come to life on the stage. More than what you see in front of you. The author is very funny and intuitive, very much in tune with the world and human condition. But both plays left me feeling differently about the world around me and that is a beautiful and amazing testament to Ms Hansberry!!

Remembering Spain!

2010-06-23T07:38:00.001-04:00

Heroes for My Son by Brad Meltzer

2010-06-14T11:39:00.004-04:00

I don't know exactly what the word "hero" means to me. I don't know if we run into heroes every day or if many people even strive to become one. I like to think so.
I do know Brad Meltzer's little book, Heroes for My Son, is a beautiful gift he gave to his children and they will most definitely call him a hero for that!
The book is filled with everyday heroes from all walks of life. Some obvious choices, some more obscure. I like the reasons they are heroes to this author, for now they are to me, as well. Filled with beautiful character sketches and touching testaments, this book is absolutely moving and real.
For all of my heroes, past and present - thank you!

They called Lou Gehrig "the Iron Horse".
But he wasn't made of iron.
He was made like us.
... He just didn't let that stop him.

The Irresistible Henry House by Lisa Grunwald

2010-06-05T13:49:00.005-04:00

I used to think that it was an Orphan Edge. There was a large, white, one-room house full of cots lined against the walls that sat out on the edge of town where children went if they didn’t have parents or their parents couldn’t stand them any longer. I grew up in South Dakota where we heard the horror stories of buffalo being run off cliffs to their brutal demise. That’s what the Orphan Edge was to me! Just an edge ... like a huge cliff and if you went too long out in the house without being adopted, you were simply sent, en mass, over the Edge.
My mother would threaten to send me out to the Orphan Edge if I didn’t straighten up, and that didn’t really seem like a viable option to me. Although there was a lot of singing and dancing going on out there (what else are you going to do while you are waiting to be thrown over the Edge like a herd of naughty buffalo?), I knew I was not nearly as talented as Annie and Oliver and I couldn’t even be chosen in the top ten for dodge ball, so clearly there was no way I was going to be chosen by a new family after being cast away from another one!
It’s funny, too, how much of what we believe when we are children still holds a special place in our minds long after we learn the truth. So it will forever be the Orphan Edge to me. And I know what goes on out there!
The Irresistible Henry House is a story inspired by an actual occurrence in these United States between 1919 and 1959: Practice babies! No kidding! They used to pull babies from the Orphan Edge and loan them to Home Economics schools. They lived in Practice Houses and were raised by several mothers at a time! After a year at the Practice House, they would be sent back to the Orphan Edge where they were considered “lucky” to have had such a head start and would probably be adopted before the less fortunate orphans.
The fictional Henry House was one such baby.
This coming of age story takes us through Henry’s life from his birth in 1946 up to his promising young adulthood in the late 60’s. Filled with interesting pop cultural references and colorful details, the story of Henry House is a roller coaster of emotions for the characters and readers alike.
I felt both happy and sad while reading it and it inspired thoughtfulness and creativity within myself. Not a classic by any means, I think The Irresistible Henry House would make an amazing, fun motion picture in the right hands and I, for one, will definitely go see it!!
I wonder if there will be singing and dancing?

Happy Memorial Day

2010-05-31T14:40:00.002-04:00

Look Who's Ten!!

2010-05-26T06:12:00.002-04:00

The Ask by Sam Lipsyte

2010-05-20T14:32:00.004-04:00

The Ask by Sam Lipsyte reminded me a bit of The Catcher in the Rye with a new, not at all improved, Holden Caulfield in the form of plump, pushing forty Milo Burke. The language is brilliant, albeit dirty, and the wild, ridiculously normal situations are extremely ... well, real.
Take the story for the story and it's basically just pathetic, but the author's (and narrator's) way with words makes the whole thing unrestrainedly hilarious!!
Each character is more flawed than the next and while reading each and every far-out scenario you realize that you quite possibly know these people, or people like these people.
I always try to see the humor in the worst moments life has to offer, which is probably why I enjoyed The Ask so much!

Make a Joyful Noise

2010-05-19T20:33:00.001-04:00

Tony on the Pony

2010-05-12T20:25:00.002-04:00

Sightless Wednesday!

2010-05-05T09:19:00.000-04:00

The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman

2010-05-05T07:46:00.003-04:00

I loved the title of this book and chose it because I somehow thought I could relate. Someone who wants things to be perfect but is too lazy to make sure it happens.
A clever idea for a book, The Imperfectionists is really just a series of short stories based on the characters surrounding a sinking newspaper in Rome. Although I would have liked the characters to overlap a bit more, and perhaps a little less irony at the end of each, the stories were very well written and enjoyable to read. Mr. Rachman certainly has a way with a character sketch!
Although, overall, the themes were a bit depressing, I would still say I enjoyed reading The Imperfectionists, in spite of my laziness.

The Scent of Summer Past

2010-04-30T16:21:00.002-04:00

Once upon a time I lived in the Black Hills of South Dakota in a little trailer in the alley behind Professor Straum’s Old Time Portrait Studio, where I worked while on delayed entry into the Air Force. It was a lonely/happy time. That is a strange combo platter, to be sure, but it really best describes the way it was for me.
Truly on my own for the first time, I learned how to find pleasure in the simple things .... find new friends, find new contentedness in myself and the air around me.
I loved that time in my life.
The Black Hills are an absolutely gorgeous place to find one’s self. Even on a tight “photographer’s” budget! During the week I dined on instant rice and enjoyed a little splash in the sink we used in the darkroom in lieu of a real bath.
For fun we held up the stagecoach a couple of times a day with the prop weapons we shared with the studio across the street (the “competition” was owned by the same person!) We took strolls on the boardwalk and hiked into the woods. We swam in a hot spring the local boys found and we dined on the kindness of travelers from time to time.
We dangled our feet in the stream while panning for gold and marveled at Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse. We told stories and shared laughter with strangers.
We wandered through caves and danced in the streets at night while drinking the cheapest beer we could buy and listening to mixed tapes of Missing Persons, INXS, U2, etc.
Once a week, I would splurge and pay 25 cents for a real shower at the campground and enjoy a bag of popcorn out of the machine.
I would climb to the highest peak and let the sun warm my face and the breeze rustle my hair. And I would dream the day away .....
The air is different there.
It was a sweet, simple time and I will never forget that summer ......

Every day I ride the Yellow Line to work. And every day I forget those memories of a warm South Dakota summer 26 years ago.
But each time I get off the train at Huntington Station, for a split second, I smell the forest of yesteryear. The Black Hills. Every day I forget and every day I am reminded again as if for the first time.
Each and every day I am treated with a pleasant memory hidden away in the back of my mind caught forever in the sweet scent of the air at a train station in Alexandria Virginia.
Life is funny like that.

Dog Days of Spring!

2010-04-28T08:23:00.001-04:00

Tops

2010-04-21T09:30:00.001-04:00

Still Alice by Lisa Genova

2010-04-21T09:29:00.003-04:00

In spite of the delicate subject matter, I am so happy I read Still Alice by Lisa Genova. I considered putting it down when I realized what the book was about, but thankfully, I did not.
I have a sister-in-law, also named Lisa, who’s mother was diagnosed with early on-set Alzheimer’s disease at a young age. I remember Lisa, a strong, funny woman and natural caregiver, telling me stories of the progression of her mother’s disease and the struggles she and her family endured.
In turns tragic, frustrating, poignant and comical, life with Alzheimer’s is a difficult one for everyone involved. I remember seeing Lisa’s mother changing before our very eyes and how I felt whenever I was around her.
I felt uncomfortable and embarrassed. And that embarrasses me to this day.
Still Alice is a moving story of a fifty year old woman in the prime of her life and career being diagnosed and living with early on-set Alzheimer’s disease. Written in first person, this novel delves into the progression of a fatal disease and what it means for the life of a YOUNG woman with a brilliant career, happy marriage and growing family.
But, it is so beautifully written ... elegantly blending medical facts with extremely raw human emotion. Amazingly, I found it extremely uplifting! Sometimes we have to understand (and having lost loved ones to fatal illnesses over the last decade, it’s something I have firsthand experience with) that, although a life is altered and, sadly, shortened, it is still a life worth living and respecting.

My House

2010-04-14T19:09:00.002-04:00

The Girl Who Fell From the Sky by Heidi W. Durrow

2010-04-05T22:07:00.005-04:00

Once again, I chose a very sad book.
A story of labels and tragedy, confusion and pain.
A story of how words can wound and how sometimes life just gets in the way of living. Thank God for the cherry blossoms
and birds chirping
and for lunch breaks under the springtime sun
~ if not for these simple pleasures,
I would have been left depressed and darkened.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

2010-03-31T10:04:00.001-04:00

In spite of my abnormally large head, I am far from what I would consider a brainiac. I did not excel in math and science and spent most of my education baffled by that subject matter.
So no one is more surprised than I am that I absolutely loved “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks” by Rebecca Skloot. I am not even sure why I chose this book. Probably only because the author shares my name. Seriously, I am that simple.
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks is the beautiful story of a young mother who walked into Johns Hopkins Hospital complaining (although not much complaining from Henrietta) of a painful "knot" in her cervix and a bloody vaginal discharge. That day, she was diagnosed with cervical cancer, and the appearance of the tumor was unlike anything that had ever been seen by the examining doctor.
Cells from the carcinoma were removed from Henrietta’s body for research purposes without her knowledge or permission and became the first cells to be grown and kept alive in a laboratory.
This story covers the amazing science and discoveries in medicine following the discovery of Henrietta’s cells (known as HeLa) and the life and struggles of the family who knew nothing about the advances in medicine attributed to their beloved mother.
So while their mother’s cells were busy making medical history significantly contributing to major cancer research,
the polio vaccine, space missions, first cloned and mapped genes, atom bomb research, etc.
Henrietta’s family still cannot obtain medical insurance.
And while Henrietta lies in an unmarked grave in Virginia, there is not so much as a wing in Johns Hopkins Hospital to honor her amazing contribution to medicine and healing.
This book covers science, medicine, law .... and humanity. I smiled, chuckled, gasped and wept openly while reading this amazing story. The author brilliantly put it all into words I could easily comprehend as she did the same for Henrietta’s family. I absolutely recommend reading “The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks”!
Absolutely!

Sarah's Key by Tatiana De Rosnay

2010-03-17T08:19:00.002-04:00

On July 16 and 17, 1942 , more than 13,000 victims (mostly women and children) were arrested in Paris and held at the Vélodrome d'Hiver and the Drancy internment camp nearby, then shipped by rail to Auschwitz. The Vel' d'Hiv Roundup, nickname for the Vélodrome d'Hiver: "Winter Velodrome" cycle track, was a Nazi decreed raid conducted by the French police. The roundup was one of several aimed at reducing the Jewish population in Occupied France. Very few of the transported Jews survived.
Sarah’s Key is a fictional story based on these horrifyingly factual events in the summer of 1942. Sarah’s story is heart-wrenching and difficult. The author, however, flip-flops between Sarah’s story and the story of an American journalist covering the 60th Anniversary of the Vel’ d’Hiv Roundup. Julia is an American who has been living in Paris for over twenty years, married to a French man and raising a child in Paris. She works for a newspaper catering to Americans living in France.
This back and forth between Sarah’s horrific experience and Julia’s modern day discoveries of those events makes it somewhat easier to read, although not nearly enough to take away the anguish and pain of Sarah’s story.
The first half of this book was riveting and nearly impossible to put down. However, once Sarah’s voice became silent, I found the story lost much of it’s luster. I liked the book very much, don’t get me wrong, and I still felt considerable compassion for Julia, but I missed hearing Sarah’s side of the story and the more intense facts surrounding it.
I missed her.
It is a sad, sad story.
On many levels.
This is a work of fiction albeit laced with graphic facts. It is not a text book. It is a story. Keeping that in mind, I would say it is worth reading.

The Queen of Clichés

2010-03-03T15:28:00.007-05:00

My mother, like her mother before her, is the Queen of Clichés. I, on the other hand, while growing up was the Princess of Literal. The Amelia Bedelia of Mellette Elementary, if you will. It led to a lot of confusion and misunderstandings around our house. Me thinking my mother was crazy and she, in turn, thinking I had special needs. I walked around scowling and mystified most of the time, while she was walking around betting dollars to doughnuts and taking stitches in time.
I never knew what on God’s green earth she was talking about!
“Well, if you can’t see the forest for the trees, Rebecca, I don’t know what to tell you!”
Ummm, clearly! We lived on the plains of South Dakota ... what trees?! What forest? What was I missing?!
“Pretty is as Pretty does, young lady!”
Who is Pretty and what the hell does she keep doing to get me into so much trouble?
It was baffling!
As I wandered across the street one sunny afternoon, I heard “REBECCA ANNE!” screeching across the airways.
Huh?
“You didn’t look for cars any more than the man in the moon!”
Well, honestly, I probably was looking for the man in the moon which was why I didn’t see the car that nearly hit me!
My eyes were always bigger than my stomach and I was biting off more than I could chew. I was always looking a gift horse in the mouth, telling cock and bull stories, barking up the wrong trees and crying wolf ... although I have no recollection of doing any of these things.
I loved to draw when I was little and I remember asking my mother to join me.
“The only thing I can draw is a bath.”
Okay.
I was fine with that, although while I never saw her actually do it, I couldn’t figure out why she could draw this (according to her):

but not this:

Seemed odd.
I was a curious child, although usually too frightened to ask questions. Mostly because the answers were always so cryptic and confusing. When I did venture to ask a well-thought out and provocative question, my mother would simply roll her eyes and say, “Heavenly Nose, Rebecca.”
I won’t even tell you how old I was when I figured out she was saying, “Heaven Only Knows”, which, while still not answering the questions, would have at least made more sense!
And my grandmother, in addition to her entirely different set of clichés, simply said bizarre things. She was weird.
“Grandma?” I once asked. “There are no chairs left at the table, where should I sit?”
“You could always sit on my thumb.”
For the life of me I still don’t know what that meant!

The Room and the Chair by Lorraine Adams

2010-03-03T08:40:00.003-05:00

I feel like I bumped my head and received a concussion where my reading taste buds have lost their ability to ... well, taste. I feel like I haven’t enjoyed a book in a long, long time. Perhaps it’s simply because it took me a long, long time to read this book, which I did not enjoy.
The Room and the Chair was confusing and irritating. Like an annoyingly overzealous child who wants to be everything when he grows up, but can’t really make an intelligent decision on the subject.
There were too many quick-change jumps from here to there, person to person. I found it difficult to keep track of the story and even more difficult to find a reason to care. I did not feel connected to any one character and only mildly with one story line or another - story lines that never did climax or connect even to each other.
And I may have to see a doctor concerning this concussion!

Nine Days in February

2010-02-18T10:04:00.003-05:00

February 2, 2010
Day 1
I was always extremely thin as a child, teenager and young adult. And then I turned 26 and I popped. It was weird. It almost literally happened over night. I simply exploded!
It sucked!
I have gone up and down 25 pounds every few years for nearly two decades.
I struggle with self-loathing and low self-esteem.
I suck!
This is my diary of cleansing, soul-searching and (with God’s grace) weight-loss over a nine day period at the beginning of February. My husband was working in New Orleans for two weeks and I felt like this would be the perfect time to “cleanse” my system and get rid of the excesses in my life. I had visions in my head of being a noticeably thinner version of myself upon his return. Little did I know, we were about to be attacked by a record-breaking blizzard in our area that would leave me trapped in my home alone for the better part of two weeks!
On the very first day, I first started thinking about food at 9:45am. Not even so much hungry as just thinking about food. I didn’t start to actually feel hungry until 9:57am.
I am doing meal-replacement shakes for five of the nine days and a liquid fast for four of them.
My first shake was good! Large! I made it in the blender and since I only use the blender for frozen fruity beverages, the only thing missing to me was a banana and some booze. I am like one of Pavlov’s dogs .... hear the blender, think frozen adult treat. Putting that aside, I did enjoy the flavor of the shakes and readily accepted the fact that this was a meal, not a cocktail!
As time went on, I realized that I was cold and I am lazy. So I think about eating. I think about what food would taste like. I am not hungry. I am bored.
It snowed overnight.
I was able, however, to stick to the plan and lost over 4 pounds the first day! I am drinking the Kool-aide now, baby! This stuff really works!!
Okay, on day two - I am inspired! I think I will do a fast today and tomorrow. I feel slightly hungry this morning but more, I believe, out of habit than hunger. I always wake up, grab a diet soda pop and make something to eat. I am going to get a glass of water and plan my day! I can’t believe I lost over 4 pounds in a day doing NOTHING! This is amazing! Fasting will be far more difficult, I know, but it will so be worth it in the end!!!!!
I am feeling very positive right now!
I first started feeling my real hunger pangs at about 4pm on the second day of my plan, the first day of fasting. It’s the first I’ve actually felt my stomach growling and I found myself thinking about food constantly. The commercials and television programs seemed to absolutely bombard me with images of lovely meals and treats.
I am giving it up to Jesus.
I am reminding myself how much I do not like ME right now. I am reminding myself of how ugly I feel and how I shy away from social situations and cameras simply because I cannot stand the way I look. I really want to be successful with this plan.
I have a pack of green Jell-o looking at me. It is my cheat. It is ten calories and no sugar. If I DO cheat with the Jell-o, it’s not really that bad, I think.
I stare at the Jell-o snack pack and it stares at me. For three hours.

I didn’t cheat!! I am going to bed feeling good about myself!!!!

I did not sleep well at all that night! When I did sleep, I dreamed of food and cockroaches! And drowning.
Miserable!
I felt very tired the next morning. I felt a bit shaky, but not terribly hungry. I was not looking forward to another liquid day, but I believed I could do it!! I was so pleased with the results!! I lost 6.6 lbs in two days! I only expected 7lbs total, so I was extremely pleased!!
YAY!!!!
This is a note I wrote to myself:
“OKAY! DO NOT TELL ANYONE WHAT I AM ABOUT TO TELL YOU!
I can totally see how eating disorders happen. After 2 days of fasting, I am sitting here worried that there won't be much loss tomorrow. I am stressing about putting on weight when I get to eat my one meal for the next four days. I am feeling some bizarro power over myself and my hunger and desire to eat. It's weird!!! I don't think it will last, sadly, but for right now I am feeling it. And it's gross that I say "sadly"! Like I freking WANT an eating disorder!”

Feb 5, 2010, first official snow day - although it hasn’t even started snowing yet! I made it through two days of fasting and was losing weight.
I was absolutely thrilled with my results!! I was a little shocked, truth be told, but absolutely thrilled!!
We were expecting and received a ton of snow starting that day, so I took a vacation day. I was worried about getting stuck in DC, which normally would have been fun! I could have stayed with a friend and it would have been an adventure, but with Jerry gone, I couldn’t take a chance on not being able to get home to my dogs.
And in a very selfish way - I was thrilled! If I was home, I would not face as many temptations. I knew that if the weather got as bad as they were saying, Metro would be closed the next day which meant I wouldn’t be back to work until the following Monday!! I was really thinking “this is it”!! I had lost over 8 pounds and it was only the beginning of Day 4!! I had 5 more days of the program and a couple of extra days just to be safe!
I was so happy!!!
I had my first shake of the day at 11:15am. I was ready for it! After 2 days with no food, it tasted like heaven! It was like having a treat!! I bought myself some bendy straws and I was feeling rather decadent!!
Ha!
I was feeling fantastic!
Journal entry: “I am home during a snow storm. The news is saying we are in for a huge blizzard. It is gently snowing now, but it started right on cue. They are talking about losing power and water, but I think I am fine. I have plenty of bottled water and enough food for my meager meals anyway. The timing is actually perfect! Since I don’t even have to be at work, there is nothing to stress about as far as the weather! If I lose power, I will just bundle up my pups in the bedroom and grab my book. I have plenty of candles. It’s almost exciting!!”

My first solid meal since noon on Tuesday was 560 calories. And delicious! The flavors almost seemed .... intense.
And, expectedly, I had boo-boo belly.
Ugh.
Day 5. Snowed in alone with my dogs and my appetite. Alas, my weight did not drop overnight. It did, however, stay the same. I was worried about adding food after the fast, so I am so pleased that my weight didn’t go up!
“Today I am facing the kiss of death: Boredom! I will not let myself eat out of boredom. Or convince myself that I am starving out of boredom. Or talk myself out of sticking to the plan out of boredom.”
I have several FEET of snow to remove from my driveway so I may possibly leave the homestead and venture back into the real world at some point. People will think I had been snowed in without food, I am so damn thin! I drank gallons of water while I shoveled, scooped and pushed the heavy snow. I was freezing, exhausted and hungry.
Feb 10, 2010
Day 9
Another freking blizzard!
This is day 9 of my program. The last day! It is a fasting day which means no solid food. I went to work the day before and successfully fasted the entire day. Today is also yet another snow day for me. I have only worked two days since I started this program! Both were Fasting days, ironically. I am thinking, I can actually do this!! I can’t believe I have lost 10lbs!!
I am thrilled and scared!
I am also freezing!
The heat in my house can’t keep up with the cold outside. Especially with the added pleasure of 35 mph winds. I thought, What Would Jerry Do? Oh yeah, he would turn on the oven for heat!
I did that.
And the ghosts of every wonderful thing ever baked in that oven are visiting me like it’s Christmas Eve in Victorian England! Every pizza, every cookie, every cake, every Thanksgiving dinner and pasta casserole, every turkey, cheesy potato, and brownie ... all marching by me like a Mardi Gras parade. While I slowly freeze and starve to death, my oven is whistling “When the Saints Come Marching In” ....
... but I WILL NOT CAVE!!!
Day 10
The program is “officially” finished!! However, I am going to continue to lose on my own. I am positive of this fact. I am not super thrilled to weigh what I weigh, but it is an awesome start !! 11.2 pounds lost in nine days! That is amazing!
I am remembering Bridget Jones’s Diary (the book) when Bridget lost a bunch of weight and was so tickled with herself. She couldn’t wait to go to work so everyone could tell her how amazing she looked! She got to work and everyone looked at her with disgust, “What happened?! You look terrible! Were you sick?!?!”
I was expecting that to happen to me. I was prepared for that reaction! I had several quick comebacks for their reactions. 11.2 pounds in nine days is huge! People will feel sorry for me. They will think I was stuck all alone out in the woods in the blizzard of a lifetime ... no food ... perhaps an illness.
But I could handle it. I would handle it with grace and humor while feeling delightful inside my new svelte frame!

No one noticed.
Not one coworker.
Not one friend.
Not one husband who had been gone for two weeks.
No. One. Noticed.

Yesterday, a colleague came into my workplace looking wildly thin! I couldn’t believe it! I gushed over him! He was happy and said he just reached his goal weight the day before! He had lost 75lbs! Amazing!!
Another coworker and friend said, “He looks the same to me.”

....I felt a little better!

Where the God of Love Hangs Out by Amy Bloom

2010-02-18T08:38:00.002-05:00

I am not sure what is wrong with me. I choose books that other people seem to like. I choose books that are recommended on television, magazines, newspaper reviews .... I choose books that are supposedly amazing. I choose books because I like the cover.
But, for some reason, I am not getting it.
Where the God of Love Hangs Out is a book of short stories. I love short stories and was excited to read this novel. Some of the little tales in this book connect to each other and some stand alone. A little weird, honestly, but I could live with that. And the author is obviously talented. But, for me, the stories were just sad and a little .... well .... sexual.
Now, I am no prude, but I was a little unimpressed with the infidelity and near-incestuous sexual content. Perhaps in one story, I wouldn't mind on the grounds that it was one story and a look into that specific life. But the theme popped up again and again and I just wasn't enjoying it, frankly.
Her characters were lovely, however, and I could easily believe each and every scene she created. Her writing is extremely real.
All and all, definitely not a bad book. It was simply not one that I would recommend or even look back upon with any degree of fondness.

What Mr. Eliot Said ...

2010-02-03T08:10:00.001-05:00

“Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers.”
— Charles W. Eliot

The Draining Lake by Arnaldur Indridason

2010-02-02T09:45:00.004-05:00

Honestly, The Draining Lake will not go on my list of favorites. I didn’t hate it, necessarily, I simply did not enjoy it as much as other novels I have read.
The title, to me, had very little to do with the story itself, firstly. I could dig deeply and find a meaning, I suppose, but it would be a stretch and not really worth my time.
It was tough for me to get started, though, because I became tangled up in words. I do not speak Icelandic. For awhile, I didn’t know if the author was talking about a person or a lake. Many characters were introduced very quickly, and with their unrecognizable names, I didn’t know if they were women, men, proper names, titles, ... cities .... ?
This book is part of a series, apparently, and perhaps I would have struggled less with the names if I had read a few of the others, but I doubt it.
I liked the mystery of this book, especially the back story about a group of Icelandic students attending university in Communist East Germany during the 1950’s. But the mystery was more interesting than the outcome and some story lines were left completely unresolved, which irritated me.
I feel like I struggled through so much confusion with language only to be disappointed with the story in the end.

So It's the Laughter We Will Remember

2010-01-26T10:37:00.009-05:00

I was very young when I met my cousin, Laura. Perhaps five or maybe six years old? That seems so young, but it has to be true. My mother was dating my stepfather at the time and we made a summer vacation trip to Pierre SD to meet his sister and her daughter. They lived out in the country with land as far as the eye could see ... and horses!! In my little head, it was absolutely beautiful!
A foal was born while we were there!
I learned to “ride” that weekend. Well, I learned to hang on that weekend. And I learned the time tested and most valuable lesson of getting right back on the horse that throws you.
Laura and I hit it off instantly. We were very close in age and our personalities clicked. We rode the horses and climbed fences. We wandered the fields and found a huge pile of dirt to play in. A really huge pile, like the kind of pile you can see from a distance of several miles. A mountain of dirt that would take five minutes to climb to the top and only one to slide back down! We were absolutely filthy when we returned!
We laughed so hard I peed my pants.
My family pitched a tent in my cousin’s yard and while I was in the tent changing my pants (so embarrassing), one by one, each member of our “party” took turns walking by the tent to look in at me with horror and disgust! My soon-to-be aunt said, shaking her head as she walked by the flap of the tent, “And I thought you were a big girl!” She must have insisted my cousin come into the tent to apologize.
“I’m sorry I made you wet your pants.”
“It’s okay.”

Ahhhh ha ha ha ha ha!!! And we laughed some more!

It wasn’t the last time I laughed to the point of pee with my cousin. We became the best of friends. My Gramps called us Kissin’ Cousins. We wandered over most of South Dakota on our bare feet, ice skates, bicycles, horses, canoes, cars ....
She was in my wedding and I was in hers.
I held her son.
And we laughed a lot.
Sadly, Laura battled demons I will never know. For every bit of laughter there was an equal number of tears. I am sorry for her sadness. I am sorry for her pain.
I feel like I said good-bye to my friend a long time ago, but now I say good-bye to my cousin.

Rest In Peace, Laura.

I promise to always remember
the laughter....

Laura McKenna Halligan
September 2nd 1967 - January 21st 2010

Random Loveliness on a Winter Day

2010-01-15T10:39:00.007-05:00

If a Picture is Worth a Thousand Words, Then a Thousand Pictures Must Be ... a Library!

2010-01-15T10:20:00.012-05:00

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski

2010-01-08T08:24:00.005-05:00

Janet Maslin of the New York Times boldly warned me that if I picked up this book, I should expect to feel very, very reluctant to put it down. She was wrong. I did want to put it down. Every time I picked it up and sobbed through a lunch break, I wanted to put it down. Every tear-stained ride on the train made me very, very reluctant to pick the book back up.
But I did.
Because I thought it would be worth it in the end.
I don’t know why I chose this book in the first place. I didn’t know it was a “dog story” or I probably wouldn’t have. I love dogs, but the thing about dogs is: they die. They give us everything they have, they entwine their lives so intricately with our own, they give us love, laughter, adventure, companionship, warmth .... and in return, they get a lifespan a fraction of our own. I get that. I hate it, but we invite them into our hearts anyway, because it’s worth it in the end.
So, I picked up the book time and time again and I let Almondine into my heart despite my best instincts. She reminded me so deeply of my sweet, departed Borderline that I was reduced to puddles each time I saw her name on the page. But I let myself fall in love with her and I prepared myself for the inevitable.
I let the tender, passionate boy, Edgar, into my heart as well. I ached with him and screamed within myself so that he may have a voice. I begrudgingly went along on his journey because I thought, somewhere, somehow, at the end of it all ... it would be worth it.
So I nursed wounds, went hungry, pondered questions, stared into the very grimace of danger for this boy and his dogs. I mopped my own tears and bought more Tylenol for my aching head and I plodded through the Wisconsin woods in search of the truth and safety.
But for all of the things I loved about this book: the author’s beautiful way with words, his understanding of dogs and their relationships with each other and their human companions, the premonitions and ghosts, the adventure and bonding, sadly, it wasn’t worth it in the end.
The book simply ended badly. It was all wrong. Nothing I had put myself through for nearly six hundred pages (no matter how beautiful and well-written) was worth what happened in the end.
Maybe I am a sap. Maybe I really do need the happy ending. Maybe I simply need to know that the bad guy gets punished and the good guy gets his just rewards. Maybe I need to know that the truth matters.
Perhaps.
Maybe I just need to know that what I’ve been led to believe for the entirety of a story is the right thing to believe.
What if someone shot Benji at the end of the movie? Or if Lassie jumped into the well to save Timmy and they both just drowned? We can’t take that kind of pain. We don’t deserve it.
An author can’t blatantly drag me kicking and screaming to the edge of a cliff only to push me off.
It’s not fair.
My heart won’t survive that.
It's not worth it in the end.

Multi-tasking

2010-01-01T17:58:00.002-05:00

Any border collie worth her weight in snowballs should be able to relay valuable life lessons to a puppy while running really, really fast!

Nubs

2009-12-29T08:23:00.006-05:00

I bought "Nubs: The True Story of a Mutt, a Marine & a Miracle,” by Major Brian Dennis, Kirby Larson, and Mary Nethery as a Christmas gift for my niece's children. Their dad is in Afghanistan right now and I knew they would all be missing him very much over the holidays. I love books and dogs and I thought this would be a perfect gift.
When the book arrived, I could not resist reading it before I wrapped it and sent it with the other gifts.
This is an amazing true story of a very special Iraqi dog and his big-hearted American Marine friend. Nubs (a nickname earned by having his ears cut off by an Iraqi soldier) immediately felt a connection to one Marine and his team and struggled his way through abuse, dogfights, a stabbing, and an over 70 mile trek in 18 degree weather to be together.
This book beautifully covers not only Nubs' journey to find his Marine, but also the journey Maj.Dennis endured to make sure Nubs made it safely to his home in San Diego.
This is a beautiful book for children and adults alike including photos, maps, notes and a happy, touching story of hope, resilience and companionship.

Christmas Jars Reunion

2009-12-23T08:57:00.003-05:00

The idea behind "Christmas Jars" is simple, you take a jar and set it on your kitchen counter for a year. Everyday you drop your left over change for the day into the jar and on Christmas Eve, you give it to someone you believe needs it most. It doesn't have to be a lot, it's the thought that counts. It's a special way of letting someone know that you care.
The story, The Christmas Jars Reunion by Jason F. Wright (which I believe is a sequel to a book I haven't read), is a cheesy little tale of the people surrounding the origin of the Christmas Jars tradition.
Sure, it's sticky, syrupy, sugary, sweet .... sure, I welled up a bit on the train while reading .... sure, it was a bunch of powdery fluff ...
But it's Christmas!!
That's what it's all about!

Blizzard of 2009

2009-12-20T14:39:00.006-05:00

Where I Work ...

2009-12-18T16:19:00.001-05:00

Oliver Twist

2009-12-16T11:30:00.003-05:00

Thank God for Charles Dickens’ wonderful sense of humor and playfulness with words, or I would have found Oliver Twist far too tragic to enjoy. I read a version of Oliver Twist that most closely resembles the original print, and I actually found it somewhat difficult to read. I was forced to reread full paragraphs and pages at a time (not to mention my juvenile sense of ridiculousness that forced me to become hung up on trivial matters such as “Master Bates” being a funny name, as just one example). This means I spent nearly two weeks with Oliver and the cast of good and evil. It was honestly somewhat depressing for this glorious time of year!
It’s amazing how many people have never read Oliver Twist or much of Dickens at all. And when you read a classic, people will stop you to discuss the fact. I actually love that, although most people had nothing to discuss as they have never read it. I hadn’t read it either, frankly, and only remembered one line from the movie, “Please, sir, I want some more.”
Well, that little event happened in the first chapter of the book and really wasn’t the most important point, by any means!
I would suggest folks go back and read the classics. Mix them in with their contemporary counterparts because they can get a bit heavy, but books we were required to read as children (books we should have read as children but didn’t) have much more meaning and bring considerable more pleasure when read as an adult. I remember reading classic novels simply to find the answers to questions. And because I read slowly, I was always playing catch-up and skimming rather than reading.
I missed a lot ....
Oliver Twist is a lesson not only in poverty, but in goodness, evil, preservation, truth and justice. I had no idea there would be scandal, murder, intrigue, and oh-so-much anxiety in a story I thought was about a poor orphan boy with a cute accent!

It made me hungry!

Prep & Landing

2009-12-09T08:29:00.005-05:00

I love television. I always have, always will, and I am not embarrassed about it! I love regular programming, special programming, network tv, cable tv .... you name it! I love it!
I always felt ripped off, however, on my birthday. On my early November birthday, all other programming was interrupted and I got elections. Election reports, election updates, election results. Mudslinging, slanderous ad campaigns ... I hated it! It wasn’t fair! How could God do this to me?!
And I was painfully jealous, too, because on my sister’s birthday just one month later (insert angels singing, harp and organ music, the heavens opening up and glorious beams of light), she got: (Ahhhhhhhhhhh) Frosty the Snowman. Seriously? I get Election Results and she gets Frosty the Freakin’ Snowman?!?!?!
Oh the humanity!
I adore Frosty the Snowman, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, The Year Without Santa Claus, the Grinch ... all of them!
Last night I was excited to see that Charlie Brown’s Christmas was on at 8/7 Central! Yay! I was happy to watch an old favorite and enjoyed it almost as much as I did as a child.
But then, ABC threw me a nice little gift (and it wasn’t even my sister’s birthday!): Disney’s Prep & Landing!
Prep & Landing is ABC's first television special produced by Walt Disney Animation Studios and reveals the never-before-told tale of an elite unit of Elves known as Prep & Landing, who prepare our homes for Santa's arrival. It was brilliantly fresh and clever. The story was brand new and modern while never disrespecting everything we know and love about Christmas. In this modern day and age, Prep & Landing brought back so much magic that is Christmas and did it with a happy new twist and gorgeous animation.
It was funny, clever, suspenseful, tender .... in a word: Magic! I absolutely loved it and am only sad that I have to wait a whole year to watch it again! Maybe they will air it on November 7th, 2010 ... ?!
I’ll start campaigning now!

Reindeer Pause

2009-12-08T17:08:00.003-05:00

The real deer in our neighborhood really like the pretty lighted reindeer! Oh, and Dear Santa, I would like a new camera for Christmas! It's difficult to stalk our nocturnal friends with the one I've got! I've been a good girl, of course!
Thank You!

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

2009-12-03T13:42:00.006-05:00

'Twas the Night Before Christmas
(or A Visit from St. Nicholas)
by Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Clement Clarke Moore's famous poem, which he named "A Visit From St. Nicholas," was published for the first time on December 23, 1823 by a New York newspaper, and it remains a family favorite to this day. It is a glorious example of pure magic. Not only of a season, but of words, and story-telling and of setting a mood.
It makes us believe in the unbelievable!

Niner!

2009-12-02T23:33:00.005-05:00

My baby is nine! How did that happen? Allie is a sweet little dog who loves to play with anything you throw for her. True to her border collie nature, she likes to herd and does well when everyone stays in a group or at least in one room, and she does keep one eye on me no matter where I go. She sleeps with me every night and wakes up each morning to greet me as if she hasn't seen me for a month. She makes our home a happy place and I wish her all the doggie happiness she can imagine!
Happy Birthday, Allie! We love you!!

Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls

2009-11-29T11:34:00.003-05:00

Before I started Rebecca Unpublished, I read The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls. I loved it! I have recommended it to almost everyone I know, and have given it as a gift more than once. It remains on my list of all-time favorite books and fueled my passion for memoirs. I am so impressed with her writing style, outlook and humor. She makes a sad story funny. She makes the tragic seem palatable and she proves that attitude is everything!
So when I heard about her latest book, Half Broke Horses, I ordered it immediately.
And I was not disappointed.
Half Broke Horses is the true life story of the author’s maternal grandmother, who was a fabulously amazing character in her own right. Someone should make a major motion picture about this woman, because this is good stuff!
Not only just because it is true.
If you read The Glass Castle and know about the author’s mother and how she raised her children, and if you then read Half Broke Horses and see how that same woman was raised by her own mother .... you will be as mind-boggled as I was!
But beyond all of that, this is an action-packed, sassy adventure that will stand the test of time. I fell madly in love with Lily and the delicious cast of other characters. Because the author, Lily’s granddaughter, paints a glorious picture with her words, I felt I was traveling with Lily on each and every step of her fantastic life journey. She is my newest hero! She is my inspiration to enjoy my life no matter what hand I am dealt! And she will do the same for you, I promise!
I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS BOOK!

The Kids Are All Right

2009-11-20T08:49:00.004-05:00

I think it’s interesting how my sister and I can vividly remember the exact same event completely differently. How could we both have such strong memories of the same thing, but our memories are not the same? It frightens me a bit because it makes me question my own history, my own mind.
The Kids Are All Right is a riches to rags story written by the four Welch children who each remember their life together slightly differently. It is well-written and heartfelt. Sadly, the youngest, Diana, is the child with whom I felt the most connection and her poor little childhood was simply ... sad.
I like memoirs.
I like reading real stories written by real people.
This book makes us realize we all have a story to tell and nothing is exactly as it seems. The overwhelming feeling behind their stories is loneliness, sadness, love and family. I cried a lot while reading it.
It is amazing what children of all ages will endure and strive to achieve on their own ... their interpretations of the world around them. How much adults can hurt them and heal them.
I feel sad when I think how quickly children have to grow up. My friend, Brook, once said about the innocence of children, “Why do they have to grow up and become us?”
Why, indeed?
Luckily, in this case, The Kids Are All Right.
Thank you, Amanda, Liz, Dan and Diana Welch, for sharing your story.

We Are DEVO!

2009-11-16T08:58:00.002-05:00

Q: Are we not men? A: We are DEVO!
Imagine if your dad and his golf buddies got together for a little reunion tour of the neighborhood garages. And they ended up being really, really awesome! That was what it was like seeing DEVO last night at 9:30 Club. While the gents certainly had some beer bellies going on under their radiation suits and some strange old-man hairdos, those guys seriously ROCKED! They played the entire album “Are We Not Men” as it originally appeared on vinyl and I was amazed at what a fabulous album it was!
The name "Devo" comes "from their concept of 'de-evolution' - the idea that instead of evolving, mankind has actually regressed, as evidenced by the dysfunction and herd mentality of American society". I was expecting the usual new wave synthetic pop sound and was pleasantly surprised by the driving, rocking licks combined with their trademark robotic moves and goofy antics. I love their antiquated futurism and felt a bit like Big Brother may have been watching the show from the balconies.
After suffering through what had to have been the single worst opening act in the history of opening acts, I was pleasantly surprised by the energy and brilliance of an old favorite, DEVO!

Wordless ... Thursday

2009-11-12T08:39:00.005-05:00

Yesterday should have been Wordless Wednesday. It was also Veteran's Day. I am thankful for all the men and women (and their families and loved ones) who have served or are serving in the armed forces! I am proud to have served my country and am thankful beyond words to those who continue to protect us and honor us!! This picture (taken in Afghanistan yesterday) speaks for itself, but I am especially proud, honored and touched because the serviceperson on the right is my niece's husband, my nephew, Joey!