My Calling

I have always wanted to be a Great Actor - but I'm not keen on being famous, having my every nervous breakdown chronicled in the tabloid press, signing autographs (I'm embarrassed about my handwriting), being accosted on the street by fawning admirers (I even hate it when salesmen use my first name over and over and over again - who teaches them to do that?  It's like being slapped in the face continually).  I had seen Carol Burnett doing "Once Upon a Mattress" on tv and thought, I want to do that.  One of my friends in college was in that show and I burned with envy.  Eventually I "did" that show myself, playing Winifred to Garry Moore's King.  Other than that, it was a ghastly experience.  Not as bad as "Kiss Me, Kate" where the director tried to kill the leading man with a wrecking bar and I burst into tears because he missed.   Or "Big River" where the rehearsals were so badly organized that I showed up at 8pm and waited four hours for my scene only to have the director break for "dinner."  I laid down on the stage and tried to make myself One With the Universe.

I would also like to be a Great Director ... having only directed once, and that was a show I hated to begin with and now cringe when anyone mentions it.  I liked what we did with it, trying to inject meaning into it, updating it (but only a few decades, not like Peter Sellars, the director).  But doing that only made me want to do everything: sets, costumes, acting, directing ... and that's what I do now.

I have the Best Job in the World. I am a Children's Librarian.

I can do all of that. I take stories from books and convert them to dramatic form. I choose the characters/puppets, make any costumes necessary, arrange for all the props, record all the voices and sound effects (although my husband does the mixing and burning to cd), and perform. I do storytimes, using all the skills I have acquired in theatre as well as my craft hobbies. I find crafts to do with the children. On top of all that, I have a German background and I just love organization. Oh, and reading.

It took about 20 years, but I finally found a career that uses my talents to the fullest. Not everyone is so lucky. And not everyone can afford to do everything they love best at this salary.

Into the Century of the Fruit Bat

Recently, my husband and I got new cell phones. We had old, old flip phones that barely held a charge for more than a couple of textings. Forget phone calls! While Bob used his more frequently, I only turned mine on when I thought I'd be using it:

• Expecting a call from Bob
• Arranging to meet someone for lunch
• Emergencies.

The phone did nothing but send and receive calls and text messages. It made me feel more secure when I was out on the road. It was an umbilical link to Bob.

We are now in utter future shock. Bob picked out the iPhone5 and we now have everything at our fingertips. We spent two days just playing with the phones trying to get things set up and explore. But it doesn't turn off. It only goes to sleep. It wakes up if someone calls and if I want to stop that, I have to put it on Do Not Disturb or something. [Had to have a 10 year old explain things to me.] Then there's Facetime. Bob and I can look at each other when we chat. Oh nooo! How can I play spider solitaire while we talk if he can see me? But then again, I can show him the kitties loving me up in his place.

Siri is my new best friend. "Call my husband!" "What time is it in Hong Kong?" "I'm home now." "I'm at work." I may adopt her. Mo makes fun of me; she's had an iPhone for a few months longer. She had been sending me little (very little - postage stamp size) photos to my flip phone. Show off! I tried taking photos of my cats and accidentally video'd one of them. Probably the most boring cat video ever: Cat looking at floor ... looks up ... looks back down at floor. Why do camera photos look better than photos I take with my actual camera? It's just not fair.

Last night as we waited for a table at our favorite Thai Fusion restaurant, I managed to relay information to Bob about texting that he didn't know. That's because I went to the website and read up on some tips. I was complaining about the stock market app only being set companies (Google, Yahoo, duhhh) while I would want to see just my own holdings when I accidentally called mine up through the internet. Oh, yeah - just what I need: the ability to obsess over my stocks at any time.

We've barely had time to get used to the phones when we received a message from our provider, which has been bought out by another one. We will have to pick out new phones - equal or better.

I'm too old for this.

Don't Ever Call Me Stupid

Otto is not, I repeat, not stupid.

Thanks to Stephen Fry on Twitter, I read Alec Baldwin's Final Word on being a homophobe. This is based, apparently, on what he shouted at people who annoyed him. He relates, convincingly, how much harder it is to be a celebrity in the age of technology. Anyone can take a photo and paste it up on the internet for everyone to see. Even New York City has changed. Celebrities could walk down the street, eat at restaurants, go about their daily routines without being bothered, or bothered much. I saw this myself as a newcomer when the entire cosmetic section of Bloomingdale's emptied out so that Yoko Ono (and her enormous bodyguard) could walk through in peace.

And, let's face it, when has Alec Baldwin ever given the impression that he was a pussycat?

Then I started thinking about what we call people when we are angry with them. I'm not the sort that resorts to namecalling when angry, but I'm sure I think bad thoughts about someone. All that does is keep them from hearing the name, if I have one for them. More than likely, what has annoyed me is someone being stupid. I know only too well that this is my own greatest fear: being stupid. So, "stupid" is the worst generic thing I could come up with.

I get the impression that when we call people names, we use whatever we fear most. I have a framed print-out over my desk of Protagoras and Yehudi Menuhin on this subject. "One of the principles I have learned in life is that when people speak of others, 99 times out of 100 they are describing themselves ... I have found so often that people that people describe others as they would have to describe themselves if they were really honest and self-aware, that I have almost accepted it as axiomatic." So they also project themselves onto others.

Also other young people trying to be more "adult" have tried lashing out with new vocabulary. There's probably a learned habit where you use language that your peers bandy about. When I was in college, "slut" and "bitch" were names we used on each other playfully and only on people we knew and liked really well - both male and female. It was part of that showing independence and peri-adulthood bravado. Being well brought up, I had to practice saying "shit" quietly while walking in order to be able to wield it proficiently in context. If only I'd worked as hard for class ... But I can see where the vocabulary specific to a social group becomes ingrained. It's difficult, in fact, for those within a group to not fall into that group specific vocabulary. I was involved with a community theatre that latched onto an example of idiolect by one member and repeated it endlessly. Because this was a conspiracy to mock that member, I tried to refrain from using it, which took considerable effort.

I have been called names, mostly by my sister, which I've tried not to analyze. "Squirt" was one, varied by creative adjectives and adverbs. And there were many alliterative variations on "The Modest Maiden" because I wanted to pee without someone bursting into the bathroom to comb her hair or would rather not hear about sexual escapades I was too young for. Why I should be harassed for perpetual virginity in my teens is something I will never understand and it totally put me off any experimentation.

As an adult, I was called "The Yankee"* one too many times by another teacher at an in-service day and I was at a total loss of what to call him back. I gave it some long, hard thought until I remembered a particularly local epithet related to the ubiquitous textile industry. "They used to call us 'lint-heads,'" someone told me - with a certain amount of surprising pride. So I rolled it out the next time my colleague suggested that "The Yankee" do something. I felt really awkward about it, but it actually worked. He stopped calling me "The Yankee."

So we  have three possibilities of why a person uses a particular name to express their anger: fear, projection, and peer pressure. Are there more? This isn't excusing anything or offering extenuating circumstances, but if Alec Baldwin really wants to get past this, maybe he needs to ask himself where he first heard the words he uses.

Oh, and I just remembered that a friend's brother called me a "faggot" for reasons neither I nor his sister could figure out. Now, however, I have some possible leads.

"I offer a complete and utter retraction ..."

*I suppose down here in the south, "Yankee" is a bad word. I would think "carpetbagger" would be worse, but there you are. It grated on me because I am from a mid-Atlantic state, not New England. What's more, I've lived in the south more than half my life. When I head back north, they think I sound southern: "Marf must be talking to her parents; she's got her southern accent on!" I also find this annoying. My mother would have been horrified if she heard me commit some southernism ... other than calling all women "Ma'am."** She threatened to send me back to New York just for saying it was "a quarter till" instead of "a quarter of."


**A tour guide told us about how she preferred being in France, where everyone called her madame, to her home in Switzerland, where she was called mademoiselle. I immediately understood the notion of demotion in the difference. Vive la différence?

Cutting Them Some Slack

When new ... Actually, doesn't look much different now!

I am 8 years into my second Toyota Corolla. The first one lasted about 17 years. Without tempting the gods or Fate, these have been the easiest 8 years of driving I've ever had. The only things I have had done to this car are: oil changes, tire rotations, new tires, a few recalls that were free, and, for some reason, replacement of the cabin air filter.

This cabin air filter thing annoys me. My husband has a brand new Corolla and I took it in for an oil change and they said the cabin air filter was dirty. Well, so what? Then I got all annoyed as the guy stood there with a slightly dirty square filter and finally I said to go ahead and change it. Mine, at least, had a mouse nest in it, probably from the two weeks we were away out west traveling in my husband's car and mine was left in the mouse-riddled garage. That made sense. A little dirt on the cabin air filter didn't seem to warrant a change. The next time I took his car in, I told them I didn't want to hear about the cabin air filter. After all, it's the cabin air filter. How is it going to affect the running of the car? With a little dirt on it?

The last time I took my car in, they didn't mention the cabin air filter (I think they have my number now), but they were trying that on some other lady who got annoyed and finally caved because it was only $30-ish dollars to replace it. It just screamed scam to me. But on the way home I thought about it. Re-read the first paragraph. Eight years. Absolutely no major problems. Minimal cost.

I've decided that those poor folks at the Toyota Service place are desperate for anything that will bring in some cash because the darn cars run too well. I had one 1969 Ford that was eating alternators after 4 years and a Ford Pinto that had the worst battery karma imaginable (including theft of the battery).

So, the next time they try to pull this cabin air filter thing on me, for either my or my husband's car, I'm going to say, "Sure, go ahead, knock yourself out. Because I feel sorry for you guys, desperately trying to find something you can charge for on cars that Just Don't Ever Have Enough Wrong with them. And I feel I owe something to Toyota for eight years of absolutely no trouble at all."

The Good Death

Still 20 years to go.

Death is in the air. My co-worker's mom died at age 90 after a brief illness. Scott Adams's father died shortly after he ranted in this blogpost. His father's illness was not so brief.
I watched my mother spiral out of control in a year before her death. Fortunately, I did not take the doctor's advice and have a pacemaker put in her. My mother no longer knew who the people were around her, she did not recognize her home, she wanted to go back to her daddy, and thought her husband of 60 years was her kidnapper. She lived in perpetual sadness with occasional flares of terror.
I was lucky that her extreme dementia only lasted a year, but even that short a time took a heavy toll on me. I am certain that it brought on my first grey hair at least.
As for my dad, his downward spiral was much slower and longer. He lived to be 101, and each year he said it was "old enough." He missed his wife, he'd outlived all his golf partners (although they had all been younger), and occasionally he would forget who I was. I was lucky again in that 99.6% of the time he was a sweet, tractable man.  But perhaps our (because I could not have handled this without the support of my husband who did so much) constant attention forced my dad to hang on too long. In the end, we had to be out of the country for him to die. I really think his mind and body decided that would be the safest time to give in because we wouldn't be there to call him back or insist that the doctors keep him going.
I believe in death with dignity. I do not want to linger, sad and afraid. I don't want to be a prisoner in my own mind. I don't want to be a drain on the system or my family (all of them distant).

Some Thoughts on Mawwadge

Great Granddad and Wife Number Three

How do you know when you're well and truly married? Marriage isn't a rite of passage you go through one day and Presto! you're Married. It isn't magic. It isn't a weekend hobby. Marriage is a process that requires daily work. Unlike a painting or a sculpture, it's never really finished. But like art, there's the rough draft stage, the filling in, and the polishing. If you aren't willing to put in the work, don't mess up someone else's life by marrying them.

I suppose I was lucky to marry late, after watching everyone else's mistakes. Here are a few of the things I have learned about this partnership business, that smoothed my way for me.

1. Meet the family. Watch your potential partner's behavior in the bosom thereof. If they seem different (and it might take a few visits) in that environment, expect that the in-family behavior is a norm for them. If the workings of their family seems utterly bizarre compared with yours (the family runs spookily smoothly or they are constantly sniping) - this could mean trouble down the line. It could be, though, that your own family snipes constantly and that's a norm for you, right? But if it isn't - and you don't like it - you might want to find a different partner. Or maybe your family is the Blands and there's never any conflict. Would you be comfortable with a partner whose communication is chiefly through conflict? What if they are the Blands? Do you want to spend your married life trying to get a rise out of someone who's too laid back to mix it up with you?
2. See how your partner lives. We've all seen "The Odd Couple" and know what happens when a slob and a neat freak live together. It very nearly results in murder. The only reason that "The Odd Couple" doesn't end in actual murder is that it was intended to be a comedy. [I think Neil Simon pulled some punches there. That story has tragedy written large on it and the ending seems tacked on.] Are you more casual about housework? Does your potential partner seem obsessed by it? Compare definitions of what is "clean." For some, it means things are picked up. For others it means the surfaces are clean. You would think that if this describes the differences between two people living together, that it wouldn't be a problem. The one who liked it tidy would tidy and the one who liked it polished would polish - but that's not what I've seen happen. I've seen two people just argue about how the other person was doing it wrong. 
3. Do you and your partner communicate well about money? Please, for the sake of all the pixies in Pixieland, hash that out before you tie any knots. Money is one of the biggest bones of contention in a marriage. If you like to live on the edge of bankruptcy, don't just assume your partner is going to foot the bill for it. Find someone else who likes to live dangerously. If you are scrupulous about paying your bills, don't hook up with someone who thinks it's "optional."
4. Learn to forgive. My mom tried to teach me that. "Forgive and forget," she would chant - which was hard to do when my sister was always pulling the same guff on me, making my young life a living heck. Mom would also say that there didn't seem to be enough "Kiss and make up" in marriage today. She always made it sound so easy - but forgiving isn't, just by definition. You need to suck up that pride and make the first move. That doesn't mean everything is forgivable.
5. Learn to compromise. No matter how in tune you might be, how well you match, people can change, or situations change, and you have to be flexible. Make sure your potential partner can do this as well. I definitely did not marry the date who insisted I decide on where to go for dinner and continued to drive around until I told him where to go. Then he got mad because he had to keep driving. I wasn't being stubborn - I really have trouble making decisions on where to eat and if I'm hungry, it actually gets worse. I wandered around Midtown Manhattan for a couple of hours unable to decide where to eat. I had to resort to (freshly ground) peanut butter and (my favorite stoned wheat thin) crackers.

Once I knew a man who had been married four times. I asked him - "Why?" After a while you'd think he'd have learned something. He told me that sometimes he thought he could make someone happy and sometimes he thought the other person would make him happy. "Didn't your momma teach you that you are responsible for your own happiness?" I asked. I mentioned this later to one of his ex-wives who said that, no, his momma taught him that he was responsible for her happiness. He went on, by the way, to marry a fifth time.

This is my last point. If you are unhappy, you can't expect someone else to do something about it. You have to decide to be happy. If that doesn't work, you take yourself to someone who can show you how to make yourself happy, even if it means medication. I have heard people say that they aren't changing to make things easier on other people - other people should rearrange their expectations. Well, good luck with that, hon. I applaud your strength of character. As long as you don't make other people suffer, you can go right on being a pain in the arse. Just make sure that you are as forgiving of others as you expect them to be of you.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

Composite? Hotel has dark swimming pool right at edge?

I just got this in my email ... and there just seems to be so much wrong with it I don't know where to begin.   I did, however, click on it and look at the photos.  But they're just photos of ... of scenery.  One of them is just of some water with some clouds and a sunset and you could get that almost anywhere.  Now, the Machu Picchu one might have had a view - but probably not of Machu Picchu. 

I'll say the views are "incredible."  Especially the one above.  How is that a hotel view?  Where's the balcony?  Come to think of it, this couple doesn't even look wet.  For all we know, they drove 300 miles from their hotel to get in that water, if in fact they even are in water. 

It is also my experience with hotels that you end up with the sucky view.  I have many vacation photos of the rooftop HVAC systems and kitchen vents.  I don't know who's getting the ones with views (I've stayed on both sides of all the Disneyland hotels and seen mostly parking lots).  It sure as all heck isn't me.

I have seen some beautiful views - far away from hotels and the like.