Enforced Self Indulgency

I am laying in bed on a slanted wedge with two pillows propping my head, another underneath my knees and another on my lap supporting the iPad on which I am writing. I have been in much pain the last several days with a fierce backache. I have just emerged from Ann Tyler's novel "Digging to America."  It is a story about two families, one Iranian and the other American, who meet at the airport when each of them are being given the Korean babies that they had adopted. I feel as if I've just left these people as I leave people in my real world; just as people in my real life continue to exist when I'm gone, so does Maryam and David and Bitsy continue living their lives beyond the novel. (If I e-mailed them, they might respond).

It has been raining all day.I hear the tapping of rain as it hits the window. Unlike the banging of rain in the downspouts in the house from which I recently moved, this sound is peaceful and reassuring. My writing - and before that my my reading - is interrupted periodically by my sweet little cat, Daisy, seeking my loving attention - or the feline equivalency of that. (While in bed, I have eaten pretzels, rice pudding and best of all, Otter Pops.)

As I lay in bed, I feel like a kid excused from school because of sickness. I also feel like I'm playing hookey. There are tasks that NEED to be done and I feel the imperative to act. On top of unpacked boxes of books in front of my desk, there is a multi-level (and constantly growing) jumble of sheets, towels and blankets - used in packing during my recent move. It has been sitting there for two plus months. Half of my garage is crammed with cleaning supplies and office supplies and stuff and stuff mixed up in various boxes. This is a result of a move stretching to almost three months from a house 1.8 miles away.  I moved in stages and hand carried many things. I packed disparate items in the boxes so that they were not too heavy for me to carry.  Packing Windex, boxes of paper clips and staples, and rolls of paper towels in the same box made sense then.  (I don't recommend this.)

Laying here in bed, I feel like I'm faking my need to be in it.  I should be actively creating order from the chaos that surrounds me.  In the kitchen, I move a few items and then a few more.  I open the door from the laundry room to the garage, make a path to some cleaning supplies and bring them into the kitchen.    Gradually and then insistently the fierce pain in my back reasserts itself. I return to the bedroom and sink into the luxury of enforced self indulgence.

Is this even food?

Click on the images and decide.

Andre Ward, the Boxer

When my sweetie asked me if I'd like to join him at a press conference for Andre Ward, I said "no."

"I always do the things that you want to do," he said, "but you never want to do the things that I want to do," He said this partly kidding, but also partly not kidding.

Andre Ward is a boxer for whom my sweetie and one of his friends maintain a fan site. They even have press passes when they go to one of his fights . http://www.andre-ward.com/

"Even if you don't care about boxing," my sweetie continued, "we'll get to spend the day together."

Of course, I agreed to come.

And I had a great time.

Andre Ward and his opponent, Carl Froch, will be fighting to keep their belts at the
Super Six World Boxing Classic on Saturday, October 29th, in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Both men were at the press conference as well as their managers, Andre's coach, and local dignitaries. (Andre grew up in Oakland where the press conference was held.)

What impressed me first was that neither men wore "bling." Andre wore a watch; I don't remember if Carol was wearing one or not. And that was it. No gold chains. No diamond rings. Both men, in casual clothes, could be your average Walmart customer.

Though both men talked about being confident about the upcoming fight, they were respectful of each other. In different words, they both spoke about the reality that there would be a winner and that there would be a loser. Carl predicted that he would win the fight. Andre said that he wasn't brought up to talk about being the greatest fighter; he'd let his actions speak for themselves. Both men said that each of them and his opponent were already winners for getting so far in the competition. However it turned out, the sport itself would be the winner of a well fought match. I'm not a sports' enthusiastic and have never seen a boxing match, but on October 29th, I'll be watching the match on ShowTime Sports and I'll be cheering for Andre Ward ('cause he's the local guy. )

What Seniors Do In Bed

It is 3:12 a.m.

My sweetie and I are in bed. He is listening to a recorded book on his laptop
I have just finished reading on my iPad about Congress's inability to craft a new budget that
addresses current realities. The possibility of the U.S. government defaulting on
its fiscal responsibilities is being talked about as something that really could happen.

In my mouth I have a piece of sugar free hard candy because it reduces the coughing
that I've been experiencing since early February. The cough is part of the reason I am still awake.
I've seen numerous specialists and think I've finally been given the correct diagnosis. I'll
contact the ENT doc with whom I've previously consulted two or three months ago to work out a treatment plan.
I though my sweetie had fallen asleep but then he commented that I'm coughing more
than usual. I'm going to try again to enter Sleepland. I'll catch up with checking out my friend's blogs in
the next week or so. It's 4 a.m. now.

For Maddie- My Newest Blog

I have just created a new blog entitled For Maddie. This blog is for my 3 year and 9 month old grand-daughter. Some of you may be interested in checking it out. I am not allowing comments on For Maddie, but encourage you to make comments about it on this blog. I will let you know when I publish a new post.

My first post is about the plants and flowers that I recently planted. This is my first foray into gardening. It began with boredom. I had accompanied my daughter, Rachael, and her significant other, James, on a trip to Costco. As it turned out, this was an unwise decision; they took f-o-r-e-v-e-r with their shopping. I started wandering around the store by myself. For a while I entertained myself by snarfing up the goodies from the food samples until awkwardness set in after I'd accepted the "hospitality" from the same people after the second or third time. Then I checked out the books for sale until I tired of that. Ditto playing with my iPhone. As time lay heavily on me along with the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped in the wide wide world of Costco, the gardening supplies caught my eye. I ended up purchasing a couple trays of flowers and two bags of bulbs, each bag with 24 bulbs each. I planted the flowers about a week later; after that, a purchase of veggies seemed fitting. Today, I finished planting veggies. The bulbs, all 48 of them, are still in their bags. I intend to plant them in the next five or seven days.

It occurs to me that my emergence as a gardener parallels my entrance into the world of technology. A year ago, I only had a stupid phone. Shortly before my trip with Rachael to China last August, I purchased a Kindle. That ignited my interest (and yes my bravery) to decide to order an iPhone and a portable Bose speaker. At Christmas, about four months later, I acquired a GPS; a couple of months ago, an iPad.

Until these purchases, technological purchases were Matt's purview. I had no interest in acquiring any of the constantly improved offerings of the techno geniuses; if anything, I preferred remaining with the comfortable stuff that I'd finally learned to use. The exception was that I knew I wanted to get a Kindle after Matt's an my trip to Spain in April 2006. With my purchase of one last June or July, I exited the cave where I'd felt (relatively) safe. I was on the path of the New and the Exciting.

This is the link to my newest blog, For Maddie. It's spare on words and rich in pictures. It's written for a (highly cute) preschooler.

Water for Elephants

Water For Elephants, the book, enriched me when I read it eight months or so ago. The vivid and haunting images, the characters, its highly satisfying end, the totality of it took hold of me.

Usually I'm leery about seeing movies based on books that I've loved, but when I saw the trailer, I knew I had to see it. Two nights ago, I was not disappointed. I was ready to stand and applaud.

Water For Elephants, the movie, was spectacular. On the Big Screen it delivered the Big Top to movie audiences just as it had arrived on the rails to the small dusty towns of depression era America. Back then, it was an unparalleled event. It was magic. And beyond the magic was brutality and courage, pain, grime, glamor, the critters - ah the amazing critters - and the people with their many stories.

I nominate this wonderful film for many many Oscars - knowing that it will probably be long forgotten when the summer blockbusters eclipse it and the money folks begin their electioneering for other worthy and not-so worthy contenders. (I'd love being wrong about this.)

See Water for Elephants on the Big Screen. It is a Very Big Movie.

A Rorschach in the Sky

Lots of stuff about which I wanna post. Been meaning to put this one on the blog for some time. I will be back for real at some point. My default world has been a very busy one.

I saw this when driving to a friend's house on Christmas Eve.