House Debate

There is an ongoing debate in my house between my husband and me; actually, I think that we have reached the stage of a cold war. Let me back up and give you some background: When I went out on disability, one of the things that Corey and I both agreed on was that I would try very hard to get back into writing mode; hence, we invested in a very nice computer system for me, one with an obscenely large screen with an ultra-high definition so that I could work on my photography and design hobbies as well. (My daughter Alexis is sooo jealous of my screen because she claims that it is larger than her television to which I can only reply that I have worked long and hard for many years to have such a decadent item.) Anyway, I have been using this blog as an exercise to keep my brain active, and I am happy to say that it has been working.

What started out as a way for me to comment here and there on whatever popped into my head has become more and more focused, and I have found myself getting back to a more tightly-written style, reminiscent of how I wrote when I was writing articles for the museum. I pay more attention to structure and development, and I do more background reading now before I write some of my entries. I am thoroughly enjoying myself—the research, the reading, the perusing of other blogs—it is all engaging, and I am spending more time on the computer, and less time in bed reading my mysteries. I also find that I am going back to previous blogs and fine-tuning them, honing them, editing them, which I know is counter intuitive to the whole blogging exercise; i.e., It should be more of a freestyle, journal-entry format, less concerned with grammar and structure; however, I just cannot do that.

And so, this brings me to my main point: These entries are becoming more and more like little pieces of something bigger for me. Although it did not begin that way, I foresee it moving in that direction, and as a result, I find that I am investing more and more of my creative self in them. Hence, I want them to be read. So, would it not therefore make complete sense that I would want them to be read by the very person who has been pressing me, nay nagging me these past years to get back to my writing and stop claiming to be a writer and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT? One would think so . . .

So where is my reader, my great audience? He is playing Grand Theft Auto until the wee hours of the morning. Now let me pause and give him a little of the credit that he is due: The shipping industry has been as hard hit as everyone else, and he has yet to find a new company to take him on. This lack of gainful employment even after completing his latest training has been a big blow to our finances, but more importantly to his sense of self worth, hence, his addiction to video games and inability to sleep at night. But I have assured him that perusing my blogs might help him with his inability to sleep (half-heartedly, of course).

In fairness, my increased prolificacy and his increased gaming addiction may both spring from the same source: our household was affected by the economic downturn well before the NYSE, and the mortgage company is none too happy with us. We are in the mode of what is known as “creative bookkeeping” (in use by probably more than a few households in the country right now). That being said, I have tried to rein in my tendencies towards being a shrew when feeling that my artistic side is being underappreciated; however, I cannot help but feel that there is a black squishy leather bag out there calling my name and that I am much deserving of it. But yes, I know, it would be the whole nose to spite my face thing, blah, blah, blah, and it really wouldn’t solve the problem of going unread and unappreciated. Alas, alack . . .

And so, I will just have to muddle on with my daily doses of “Countdown with Keith Olbermann” (truly great great Special Comment on October 13 http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27188346/) and “The Rachel Maddow Show” to keep me sane and to keep me inspired, and once Corey gets a job, I’ll buy new ink cartridges and print out all of the blogs he hasn’t read, put them in a binder, and pack them in his bag so that he can read them when he goes to sea. See, even I, the worst person in the household, can come up with something approaching compromise (sometimes).

And on that note, back to politics after the real great(?) debate tonight. More later . . .

Dreams, Angelina Jolie, and Jello

And Now for Something Totally Different

Politically-free Day

For my friends who are tired of me writing about nothing but politics, I thought that I would take a break since I seem to be alienating my Texan readers (you know who you are) . . .

I woke myself up this morning while doing my nails in my sleep. Now while that may seem odd to some of you, there are those of you who will find this completely normal for me. I was having this wonderfully wild dream in which I had stopped by my favorite nail salon to paint my nails myself (I know, this makes no sense), and I was painting them a truly fugly shade of beige, something I would never do. Believe me when I say that I am a RED woman: garnet red, blood red, ruby red, “Woman in Love” red (one of my favorite shades), and then the darker shades of red once the weather cools. I do not do beiges or neutrals. Unfortunately, due to the economic downturn that began at our house months before the NYSE plummeted, I have been unable to keep up my nail fix for months, so I have finally begun to dream about having long nails again. I suppose the fugly color that I was painting them was to bring myself back to reality. However, the funny part was that I woke up with my right hand in the air and my left hand moving a pretend polish brush over my nails. Ah, que sera, sera . . . whatever.

Angelina Jolie Makes it Hard for the Rest of Us

I was reading an article online about La Jolie that was accompanied by pictures taken by none other than her love (who was my love first; he just did not know it). The pictures were black and whites of A. aprés the twins, and of course, she looks absolutely lovely. In the article she talks about how Brad wanted to capture her changing body after giving birth and how he accepts all of the changes in her and how wonderful that is. I only mention this because the pictures were not retouched, and several were close-ups, and of course, it is terribly hard to see these changes of which she speaks.

I have always found Jolie to be one of the most sensuous women on the planet earth. There is just something about her that I find terribly compelling, and it’s not the lips; it’s in her eyes. Her eyes are ageless. They have seen things. I have always been partial to men and women with dark hair and eyes for the most part. Jennifer Aniston is pretty, but she does not seem to have depth. Brad was always pretty, but he did not seem nearly as interesting until he found Jolie. Now that he is older and has crinkles around his eyes, he seems to have much more gravitas.

But I digress . . . The thing about Angelina Jolie, for me at least, is that she is so much more than a face or a body, and so it shows in her face. No makeup, head covered by a scarf, t-shirt, or completely decked out for the red carpet. It doesn’t matter. Her eyes reflect a very old soul.

From the Exquisite to the Mundane

I’m trying to break myself of my ice cream habit, so I’m eating more jello. I had forgotten how much I like jello, and how few calories are in one of those little snack cups. Of course, if you eat two snack cups at a time, it kind of defeats the purpose of the calories, but hey, I’m trying here. The problem is Corey. It’s really his fault. You see, when he fixes me a bowl of ice cream, he won’t make just a small portion. He makes these great big portions and pours on lots of caramel or chocolate topping, so I’m blaming all of the calories on him. Does apportioning the calories also transfer the calories?

My Space Versus Face Book

Dilemma: Friends who are opening Face Book accounts when I already have a My Space account? I’ve had a My Space account for about two years now. I finally have it set up just the way I want it. I have my music players set up; all of the fonts are finally the correct size. I finally got around to putting my pictures in different folders and labeling them, and I even created a slideshow.

Now Jammi and Mari have set up Face Book accounts. Traitors!!The only way I can look at their FB accounts is if I open an account too, and because I’m so anal, I won’t be able to just set up a half-assed account. I’ll have to go in and set up a real page with everything, and if I set up a real page with everything, then I’ll have another page that I have to check everyday, and if I have another page that I have to check everyday, then I’ll never get any writing done. Oh it sucks to be me *&@(!

It Really Is Fall in Naw-Fick

Wouldn’t you know it that if I wrote (several weeks ago) that we never have a real fall around here, we would  actually have more than two weeks of wonderfully temperate weather? I’ll have to remember this and write the same thing before spring. We’ve actually had weeks of weather that’s been in the 70’s with light winds and sunshine. I know that I’m taking a big chance in actually writing about this, probably jinxing myself. I’ll probably regret even acknowledging that this is happening, but it’s been so wonderful that I wanted to thank the weather gods for such manna.

The air conditioner has been off for weeks. The nights are in the 50’s. The dogs are pleasantly sunning themselves in the backyard (except for the horizontally tall one who refuses to leave my side for more than a few moments at a time; as I type, he is quietly snoring by my feet). I see more and more mums in bloom all around the neighborhood (along with lots of McCain/Palin yard signs; alas, it is a predominantly Republican neighborhood). High school football games keep getting postponed because of gang threats. My next-door neighbor is putting a new room on her house, which gives her a new excuse to spy on our backyard (she’s my arch nemesis).

All in all, it’s a beautiful fall in the neighborhood. I wish that I were in the mountains taking pictures of all of the turning leaves. Oh well, maybe next year, after Obama has been in office for his first nine months. Oops, sorry. This was supposed to be a politically-free one, wasn’t it? Just can’t help myself.

More later . . .