TV Shows

In the aftermath of The Recent Event, I find that my television viewing habits have changed. This is not surprising. Matt's health challenges kept him pretty much anchored to the family room couch where I would also sit in order to be with him. The television was usually on and Matt would be watching it or nodding off, sometimes with earphones and sometimes not. When we watched a show together, I'd usually also be doing something else, crossword puzzles for example or ripping out recipes from Sunset magazine.

Since The Recent Event, I've found myself completely uninterested in the make-believe lives of the pretend people whose adventures we used to follow. Dr. House will have to be his brilliant arrogant self without me. Allison Dubois will go on dreaming, Patrick Jane will be insightful, and The Good Wife will be good (or not) and I won't care. But . . .

I have discovered Project Runway. The title alone, and with it the potential for my wonderful hubby's kind ridicule, kept me from discovering this particular guilty pleasure until a week or so ago. I've become a huge fan.

Late bloomer that I am, I have finally joined the hordes who follow the complicated lives of the airplane crash survivors and the Others in the TV series, "Lost." I watched a two hour plot summary last week and saw the two hour first episode of this (its last) season last night. I've just printed out pages showing the main and supporting characters from Lostpedia and the first eleven pages about the show from Wikipedia. I don't want to be lost - sorry I can't help myself -while trying to figure out what's going on. I'm not a huge fan at this point, but seeing the show has become a cultural imperative for me.

I haven't entirely given up on shows that Matt and I used to watch. I'll continue to watch Criminal Minds, a delightful gem about serial killers and the FBI profilers who catch them. I'll also watch Flash Forward and The Vee (sp.?) when they are back on the air. (Flash Forward is truly compelling.)

And I'll enjoy the silence of a blank TV screen and the time that it frees up to do other things.

The Lessons of Plants and Flowers

This plant, a gift from Ben and Wendy, was practically outgrowing its pot at one time. Its branches were tall and abundant. One day, it's abundant branches were bone dry and its leaves were brown. Matt and I had a dispute. He was adamant that the plant was dead. I disagreed. "Let's give it a chance," I said. "I think it will grow back again." I cut the branches down to stumps and put aluminum foil on the ends to preserve whatever moisture they'd retained. One day there was a miracle. I looked at the plant and saw that a new tall branch had grown overnight. No, not a miracle, but a joke. Matt had taken a branch that he had trimmed from a backyard bush and put it in the pot. We laughed together at this, Matt repeating his verdict that the plant was dead. Life proved him wrong. Thankfully he lived to see the new growth and I got a chance to say, "Ha ha, I told you so."

The plant to the left may eventually reach the ceiling. Such is the way of a healthy plant. I've attached a string from the ceiling to the supporting pole so that it can do this. Eventually I'll cut the plant down, shear off its proud growth, so that I can entrust it to Rachael's care when I take a multi-week vacation. Such is the life of a plant and the whims of a human. The plant to the right was a Christmas gift from Rachael. Small yellow roses bloomed from it and perhaps will bloom again when the season is right.

I found myself thinking about the message of flowers when I received them in sympathy for The Recent Event. Flowers seem to be the all-purpose messenger. They speak of love and forgiveness, of get-well-soon and condolence. I balked at this when I saw that the flowers I was given were starting to die. It would seem to me that I've had enough of Death without having to witness it in the friggin flowers. But flowers always, no matter what the occasion, teach us about the whole process of life. Some flowers die before others. Leaves can last much longer. Eventually death will seek every thing and every body. In the meantime, there is beauty and there is joy, not diminished by its eventual passing, but exalted in It's moment for the moment we share and the next one if it is granted to us.

My Very Best Friend Ever and Forever

My Avatar

When I gave Zwinky permission to enter my computer, I thought that it would create a cartoon version of myself using a photograph that I would download to the program. Instead my choice of options was only what was available. Voluptuous (as Lorraine would say) was not available. Nor was gray hair. My choice was between cutesy and hot. I chose hot. I have to admit that she's growing on me even though she's not what I had in mind.

A Curmudgeonly Comment About the Friggin Ball

I may have written about this before, about how we get used New Years' Eves here in Northern California. As if there is no New Year's Eve celebration in San Francisco where fireworks blaze in front of the ferry building. Or in Southern California, the home of Hollywood. Well finally Matt and I settled for Las Vegas because it is at least in the same time zone as us. Within minutes they announced, "and now we go live to New York" which was, of course, a rebroadcast of what was live three hours earlier. And so we settled again, since all the world is apparently focused on the friggin ball falling in friggin New York. Why not Greenwich, England, the official time-keeper of the world? Or further to the west where the crooked date line is drawn?

And they were excited, the crowds. At least according to Dick Clark and Ryan Seacrest and probably Anderson Cooper and the boringly outrageous chick on the stage with him. Yes indeed, the crowds went wild with anticipation as the moments drew near. Their collective nerves quivered as the ball descended. And then there was an orgasmic cheer. The New Year had begun. Matt and I yawned and showed our age. Having been through 63 New Year's Eves, we know that nothing changes. The most narcissistic species on this and possibly any planet has arbitrarily decided that a particular moment in time begins a Whole New Year. And time goes on, one tick at a time. The Cosmos doesn't even bother to shrug.

And yet, just a bit, no more than that, I would give up some of my hard earned wisdom for the youthful exuberance that had me tossing into the air in front of the princess's castle at Disneyland a pack of cigarettes that I'd resolved to quit smoking on a New Year's Eve so very long ago.

If A Tree Falls in the Forest

and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Well of course not, I would answer, qualifying the answer by including birds and other hearing critters among the absentees. The falling tree would create the vibrations that we and such critters would interpret as sound if we were there, I would add, while putting aside such matters as the transmission of these vibrations across great (or small) distances to other sentient beings who might or might not be hearing the sound
Soooooooooo if a tree falls in the backyard of a sentient being and said sentient being ignores it, what happens? It returns to the dirt that birthed it, I would say and I offer the photo at the left as proof. I would remiss if I failed to point out the caribiner and chain attached to the tree trunk about two thirds of the way up. This was not an unloved tree, though we did not hear it falling. It held up one end of one of our two (much loved hammocks).


All this is prelude to The Presentation of The Moss. I like my back yard look of winter. Instead of the white coldness of snow, I get the sometimes moist greenness of moss. It reminds me of a summer visit to Amsterdam

in my 20's; the moss remains my second most vivid memory of the
city. And so, more pictures of moss, all of them clickable because they are so cool. The last one shows the remaining

hammock which will soon be stored in deference to winter's fierceness, Northern California style.




On a totally other subject, Thursday will begin my 5th week of on-track eating. I have been writing about this in my newest blog, Onwards: 11/11/09 to 11/11/11. I had not planned to provide a link to this blog until I'd reached 185 pounds, the weight at which I started Onwards, Getting Rid of the Regain on September 29, 2005. My current weight is considerably higher, but I feel confident that the only thing that now stands between me and my size tens is time. I invite you to join me as I narrow the distance from here to there.

Wisdom From A Friend

My friend, Lesley Wolfetwain, wrote this when reflecting upon the Solstice. It resonates with me and expresses my wishes for my friends and family and for all of us human inhabitants of this planet.

Tomorrow morning the sun rises at its lowest point. The day after, it begins to rise, to promise spring and summer. For our ancestors, a time to rejoice. We have forgotten that joy; that the cycle of the seasons means the crops will grow again and there will be life for another year.

So I wish you all the joy of that knowledge of life. Of those things that make life beautiful; the love of friends and family, the laughter of stories and tales from our personal histories, the memory of those gone on from this world, and the dreams and hopes for tomorrow. Remember also the glory of Earth herself, the amazing physical structure of the land and water and the myriad of life that lives with us on this small planet in the dark of space. We are so blessed with this world, this special place that somehow gave humankind the chance to be what we are. That we can live and love and treasure that life.

Tonight go out into the night, look to the sky but also feel the earth in your hands. Whatever your faith, send a thank-you to the universe for what you have.

And know I love all of you very much.