Book Review: 'Motive' by Jonathan Kellerman

<img alt="Motive: An Alex Delaware Novel" border="0" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1419643912m/22926807.jpg" />Motive: An Alex Delaware Novel by href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/43626.Jonathan_Kellerman">Jonathan Kellerman</a><br/>
My rating: <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/893552991">2 of 5 stars</a><br /><br />
I consider myself a fan of Jonathan Kellerman, and especially of the Alex Delaware series; I own every book in the series, and have read most of them more than once. (In the past, when my stash of paperbacks were not stored in the garage, I'd have a Kellerman Marathon Weekend every few months, and binge read my way through the series!) Kellerman's Detective Milo Sturgis, is one of my favorite characters in contemporary literature. I am always happy when a new book is released. But the last few books have been sadly lacking in the psychological twist that made the series unique, and "Motive" is lacking in more than that. It seems as if Kellerman is writing by rote, following an outline. Chapter 1: The Murder; Chapter 2: A Bit About the Victim; Chapter 3: Milo Eats." By the end of the book, it's difficult to care. In this case, we were given page after page of supposition, and, in comparison, very little action. The entire reason this series is so popular (at least from my point of view), is the unique psychological twist that their author gives them; if I wanted a standard crime story, I could get that anywhere. I read these because of that element: why the bad guys are who they are. 'Motive' seems to be sorely lacking in its title.

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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1379231-jonna-doughty">View all my reviews</a>

I Shuffle, Therefore I Am

The last week I've been nearly glued to my laptop, listening to music and constantly creating new playlists, or watching random stuff on YouTube. YouTube gets me every time. I always end up watching the same few favorite things: Craig Ferguson's cold openings from The Late Late Show, a Monkees episode or two, music videos, and eventually, finding something new. That's my favorite thing about YouTube, actually; discovering the strange, or wonderful, or wonderfully strange things that I would never have known about if I'd stayed off-line!  Makes me kinda sad that there weren't things like this around when I was a teen; my life would have been so much more fun if I'd had access to a wider variety of music!



 

I put my iPod on shuffle this morning and this is the selection I was given"

 

"1985" Bowling for Soup  (One of my favorite bands, and one of their best songs.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K38xNqZvBJI

 

"Simple Gifts" Yo-Yo Ma & Alison Krauss (I love both of them, and together on this, they are magical!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYi9Vr8bHJY

 

"All Around the Kitchen" Dan Zanes & Friends (a holdover from my days as a preschool teacher)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pzm1_RK2XvE

 

"Scottish Temple Stomp"  by Craig Ferguson (One of the cold openings. I'm a little obsessed with Craig.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GvAPov24d4Q

 

"Parents Just Don't Understand"   DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince  (Will Smith will always be fresh.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jW3PFC86UNI

 

"Shenandoah" by Peter Hollens (This guy is amazing! And he's from Oregon!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NmKp5A8i3M

 

"The Diva Dance"  from the Fifth Element, two arias from Lucia d Lammmermoor, sung by Inva Mula

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Syo6tLeZfHw

 

"Dream On" Neil Patrick Harris & Matthew Morrison--their duet from Glee.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkoQLTO5gZY

 

"Bohemian Polka" Weird Al  (Exactly what is sounds like. It rocks.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nkd_280xlvQ

 

"Coal Miner's Daughter"  Loretta Lynn (I'm proud to know all the words.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pM84OekHtAQ

 

"Uptown Funk" Mark Ronson ft. Bruno Mars (Love this song. Makes me wanna dance!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPf0YbXqDm0

 

"Cuddly Toy" The Monkees (Yes, I like the Monkees. Do not get me started on misconceptions about this band.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3127ue93-0

 

"I Want Love" by Elton John (This is one of my favorite songs.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufbexgPyeJQ

 

Usually when I hit shuffle, I get  selections from Barry Manilow, Bette Midler & Chris Isaak, simply because I have nearly their entire catalogs. Same with Bowling For Soup, James Taylor, The Monkees, and Elvis Costello. (This list could go on and on...)  I hate to limit myself to one or two styles of music, and there is so much out there to enjoy. There are only a few things I really dislike. I cannot stand the sound of Stevie Nicks' voice, same for Mariah Carey. I don't care much for electronic or serious metal. And really, I am way too much of a suburban white girl to have ever gotten into rap or hip-hop much, other than a few very mainstream things. I've always preferred music I can sing along with. Probably always will.  The genre's listed on my little iPod range from Children's Music (that's mostly Disney stuff, really), to Classical, to Classic Country (I grew up listening to Dolly, Johnny, and all those folks), to Disco (life is not complete without a little bit of the Bee Gees). There's Folk/Rock (Simon & Garfunkel, who are the reason I can sing harmony to this day.), and Hard Rock (Bon Jovi ); Jazz (Ella & Louis), and New-Wave (Adam Ant, among others); R&B, and Soul, as well as one lonely little listing under Ska. Lots of Soundtrack stuff--from Broadway shows, as well as movies, and a little bit of Opera. We have Gospel and Bluegrass, Adult Contemporary and Alternative, as well as general Pop & Rock. These are the categories assigned by the iPod, not me. I wouldn't really classify Bon Jovi as Hard Rock; I don't have any real Hard Rock.

Anyway. Music is keeping me sane right now. I'm having a difficult time focusing long enough to read more than a few pages of anything, but I can concentrate on a song.

How Stupid Do I Look?

Wait, don't answer that.



I have faith in the basic goodness of humanity, and usually see the glass as half-full. That's getting difficult, as I keep running into people who seem determined to show me how wrong I am.

Last month I posted an ad on Craigslist to sell my wedding gown (I've been trying to sell it off & on since 2010, and have had no luck). It's a lovely gown, and I could use the extra money, as well as the space. Right away I got a response, asking to buy it. I was thrilled, but a bit puzzled. The email asked all sorts of questions about me that someone making a simple purchase shouldn't need to know -- personal information, and I was hesitant to answer. So I didn't. I did receive a cashiers check the next day; it was for over $1500. I am asking $250 for my dress, so this was a bit shocking.  Included with the check were instructions to cash the check, keep my cut, and give the rest, along with the dress, to a courier, who would ship it to the buyer. Yeah, right. Again, I'll ask, how dumb do I look? (Shut up, Jolene.) Needless to say, I did not cash that check, or send my dress anywhere that month. I reposted it this week, and got another, similar scam, this one involving PayPal  & Western Union.  Seems swindling is the flavor of the month online. This glass is still half-full--of bullshit.

Help Me, Dorothy Parker.

"Oh, sad are winter nights, and slow;

And sad's a song that's dumb;

And sad it is to lie and know

Another dawn will come." ¹

In the last week, Insomnia has made me her bitch. I was on a roll, sleeping through nearly every night like the dead, and suddenly, I'm wide awake. And it's making me even crazier. Last night I found myself sitting on the deck outside my room at 4 o'clock A.M., because I was too restless to stay in bed anymore, and I had to do something different. I sat on the bench, wrapped up in my blanket, with my headphones on, listening to John Lithgow read poetry in the dark. Eventually I got tired of sitting there (actually, my butt & feet were chilly), so I went back inside, and tried to read. I couldn't focus on my new mystery, so I cracked open the Dorothy Parker book on my nightstand.

Dorothy understands the long nights. Yeah, I know, most poets do, but Dorothy just reaches me in a way that works better than anyone else. When my life is falling apart, and my broken heart is screaming, I know that I can read my favorite poet (or her short stories!), and find a companion.  I've not memorized many poems, but they are all hers.

Granted, reading didn't help me fall asleep last night, but it did make me feel better about being awake all night.

Inventory

Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.

Four be the things I’d been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

Three be the things I shall have till I die:
Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye. ²

¹"The Small Hours"  p. 6, Complete Poems

²"Inventory" p 44, Complete Poems

Book Review: Die Again by Tess Gerritsen

I was a bit confused at the beginning of 'Die Again,'  finding myself on safari in Botswana, when I was expecting to be in Boston with a detective & medical examiner. Of course, it was all pulled together in later chapters, and quite well. In Boston, Detective Jane Rizzoli is on the case of a taxidermist found dead in his garage, hung from the ceiling and gutted, along with a the body of a snow leopard. Medical examiner Maura Isles connects the case to a several semmingly unrelated deaths where the victims have all been found hanging upside down. Together, the ladies follow the odd clues back to Botswana, where Jane uncovers the unsolved mystery of a deadly camping safari four years prior. When she realizes the two cases are connected, Rizzoli must track down the single survivor of the  trip to uncover who is truly behind these horrible deaths.

If you've watched the TNT television show based on this series, you're familiar with one version of  these characters. I'm a big fan of the show, and have watched from the beginning; unlike some readers, I don't have an issue with the changes made by the show; some people have complained that the characters are too different from they were written by Gerritsen. Well, that is true to some extent. In the books, Jane Rizzoli is described as a small woman, with a mass of dark curly hair, carrying an enormous chip on her shoulder; Maura Isles (who doesn't even appear until the second book) is described a cool, aloof, and goth-like, with black hair, pale skin and a "slash of red lipstick." The press and police refer to her as the Queen of the Dead. Jane is a bit unlikable in the novels, I find; her television counterpart is rather loveable. Other than the dark hair, Angie Harmon doesn't look much like the novel version of her character, but it's a perfect casting, I think. And although Sasha Alexander isn't goth in the least, she seems to be the perfect Dr. Isles, at least for me.  They are two lovely women, great actors, and the show is awesome; the books are wonderful, as well. I'll be enjoying both. The new season  begins February 18th, and Die Again, the 11th book in the series, is in stores, and online now. Enjoy!

I have no idea what this post is about.

Don't expect a topic tonight. I spent an hour today cleaning my room, and swept out whatever ideas I had, along with the amazing amount of stuff there was on my floor. I say amazing, since I'm really the only person who's ever in here, and I seldom go outside, so where the hell is all this bark dust coming from, and I no longer have a pet, so the cat hair really confuses me. The toast crumbs, scattered push pins and those little spongy things that go on the end of headphones--those I claim responsibility for. Oh, and the water bottle cap, that was mine, too.

Anyway. I've been watching a bit of telly online this week, since I don't have a cable hookup in my little room. I've always watched stuff online, but channel surfing on the web is an odd experience. Long ago I discovered the joys of YouTube: lots of old shows are posted there, in full-length, as well as clips, and if you look, you can find almost anything. Last week I watched nearly every episode of The Monkees. Again. Back in the 80's when they were running them on VH1, my sister, and nieces watched all of them, even set the VCR to record them! (I still have those tapes, somewhere...) And when the band toured, sans Mike Nesmith, to capitalize on this new success, we went to see them in concert, in Provo, Utah. It was a good show, too, although it would have been better with all four Monkees; without Mike, it was missing something.

So yes, I watched these shows again, and they made me smile, again. I once again realized that most of my brain is taken up with totally useless stuff: not only do I still know every word to the Monkees songs, recorded before I was born, but I still know the words to most of these tv shows, made & aired before I was born! Here's a clip from one of my favorite episodes, 'The Fairy Tale,' featuring Peter Tork as the hero searching in the forest, and Mickey Dolenez, in this scene, as Goldilocks.

[youtube=http://youtu.be/HlqPgi9wd6g]

I'm writing this in the dark.

Not that that has anything to do with anything, but I thought maybe somebody somewhere might care. I like my new room, it's filled with bright colors and has lots of space, but gets dark really quickly. And I need more light sources. One floor lamp, a small table lamp, and a set of fairy lights just ain't cutting it. My next purchases will be light related, I believe.

Oh, and if I can scrape together the cash, I'm going to get myself a treadmill (there are always treadmills for sale on Craigslist!); I want to lose some weight, but do not want to go outside. I'm not an outdoor girl. I want to be able to do everything right here in my little room. I am the reason the internet was invented--for people who want to socialize without leaving their chair. I've done the online dating thing, but that didn't really work so well for me, now did it? It's way too easy to lie about who you are, and how you are in an online profile, and trick somebody; I found that out the hard way. So while I may enjoy socialising on Twitter & Facebook and all of the various other places I hang out online, I don't think I'd date anyone I met there ever again. One bitten twice shy, or something like that.

Anyway. This week I've managed to fight off two killer migraines, fall out of the shower (bringing the shower curtain down with me), finally finish unpacking my moving boxes, and bite my nails. The fingernails it took me nearly a year to grow out into reasonably strong, heathly nails, are now gone, gnawed off in a few hours of stress. I am so disappointed in myself. But, I know that as they grow back, they'll be healthy, not like last years, when they were all weak & fragile from all those years of being stuck under acrylics! I did it once, I can do it again.

Tomorrow, I have errands to run, and then you'll get a book review. :)

DIY Dentistry

Yesterday I chipped a tooth. A tooth that was fake to begin with. One of the incisors in my bridge, which I have because about 12 years ago, back when I was still teaching preschool, I had a seizure on a playground, and landed face first on the blacktop, putting a hairline fracture in my nose, and breaking six of my top front teeth off right at the gumline. All of the teeth were pulled, and I lost that job. I wore a flipper (partial dentures that can be removed--the least expensive choice to replace my lost teeth) for a few years, and eventually had a bridge made at the OHSU Dental School. A bridge that was supposed to last forever, and cost a bundle! Well, I've had two of the teeth chip now-- one right in front when it was hit violently with a coffee cup-- and the second, an incisor, yesterday, when I bit into an apple.

This annoys me, since I know these cannot be repaired-- I've had this discussion with two different dentists, and unless I can afford to replace the entire bridge, I'm outta luck. But then, this afternoon, as I was mending a chip on an oversized coffee cup that I use to hold writing utensils and other junk on my table, a thought occurred to me. "I wonder if this glue would work on my tooth?" I had the little chip, and figured, can't hurt to try, so after a bit of research to make sure Gorilla Glue is not toxic, I began.  I placed a tiny dab on a q-tip, smeared it  on the broken tooth, then held the chip firmly in place for a few minutes. So far, my tooth feels whole, no wiggling or roughness. Success!! Of course, I've not yet eaten anything, or brushed, so who knows? However, my previous experience with Gorilla Glue leads me to believe this will last. I only wish I'd had some around when that front tooth broke.



 

I Got Mad Skills, Ya'll

I'm very skillful. I'm the only person I know who, when standing still,  can fall over, just have an ankle bend and SMACK!! I'm on the floor. It happened twice in the last four days. Ended up with a swollen ankle and a big bruise on my bum where I landed.
What's really strange is that I've never once fallen when doing things that are actualy dangerous. In these same four days I've climbed on three different step ladders, a couple of counters, one tall dresser, and stood on the bed to hang posters, without injuring myself once (unless you count dropping a string of fairy lights on my head). Maybe I should spend more of my life on ladders. Because I can injure myself doing normal things, ya know. Yesterday I was unplugging my space heater from the extension cord, when it gave off a bunch of sparks, and scorched my hand. The area around my right ring finger & pinkie were black, and had a tiny blister; the black stuff washed off, and the blister is gone today, but man did that hurt! (I got rid of the extension cord--it was old, and apparently dangerous!).
Yes, I'm incredibly talented.

Book Review: The Good Girl

The Good Girl by Mary Kubica



This novel, the story of an adult daughter, kidnapped and eventually returned, is told in a "before and after" way, with each chapter told from a different character's point of view. For example, a chapter may be titled 'EVE, Before', and the narrator will be Eve, the girl's mother; she will be talking about how things were before the kidnapping or before her daughter returned. The voices heard are Eve, Gabe (the police detective assigned to the case), Colin (the kidnapper) and in only two chapters, Mia (the "good girl").

The novel has some elements that seem to have stepped out of a soap opera: Colin has been hired to kidnap Mia and bring her to some other men. He picks her up in a bar, after her boyfriend doesn't show up (it's later revealed that Colin has paid him to stay late at work), and takes her home, but he can't bring himself to turn her over to the men who hired him. Instead, he and Mia disappear into the woods, and spend three months loving in an abandonded cabin. Of course, like any good soap story, they end up in love. But they aren't the only ones. Meanwhile, back home, Mia's mother, Eve, is falling for detective Gabe, and he for her, in spite of the fact that she's got a powerful judge as a husband. The judge is a classic jerk, though, uncaring about his daughter or wife, and only worried about himself. We aren't surprised that the entire thing turns out to be his fault.

While I enjoyed the back & forth of characters, and found this a fairly good novel, I found it a bit lacking in true emotion. Still, I was happy with it, and especially glad that I had no idea about the ending.

normal people scare me

Normal is boring, as well. The rest of my life may be extremely dull, but I am not boring, simply because I am not normal. These days I'm one of the more sane members of my family, but that doesn't mean much in a family where insanity doesn't just run, it gallops (to paraphrase Cary Grant in 'Arsenic & Old Lace'). Last month Max told me that he & I were the least crazy people in the family, and that was because we have the highest IQ's. I wasn't sure if I should be complimented that he thinks I'm smart, or that he thiks I'm not crazy. Either way, it made me happy. His mother wasn't as happy that her son insulted both her intelligence & sanity!

I'm on a new antidepressant, and it's helping so far. But something is going wrong, because even though I am not missing doses, I've had two seizures in the last two weeks. One just last night, a mild one, but I hit my head somewhere. I have a HUGE bump on the top right side of my noggin, and it hurts like crazy. Even laying on the pillow hurt, and I thought I was gonna cry washing my hair in the shower this morning! My next appointment with the epilepsy clinic isn't until February, but I am going to try to get in earlier, and we wil be discussing changing meds. I want this to be a year where I do not end up in the hospital.
Maybe make semi-sane my new normal.





I promised a post about the new house, but this isn't it. I'm just getting used to the bluetooth keyboard, and am not ready to post big yet. Tomorrow. Lots of pictures, I promise. Before & after, of some spaces, at least.

How do you say hoarding in French?

We moved into the new place on New Years Eve, and have been pushing ever since to get things done. I knew my parents had a lot of stuff, but I had no idea how much there actually was hidden away! Every time we've moved before, the packing has been done before I showed up or something, because I do not remember there being this much stuff. And all this time, my father has been harassing ME about my few boxes of books! Jeez. Of course, nearly everything I own (including every book that isn't an e-book) is in a box in the garage or in the storage shed. This is the first time I've ever had a room without a bookshelf. It's surreal.  I'm sure the lack of books won't last long; I'm bound to visit Powell's sooner or later...

[caption id="attachment_945" align="aligncenter" width="420"] I don't hoard books. I hoard ebooks.[/caption]

 

So. The new house. It's yellow. And pointy. Or peaky. Choose your adjective.

We have a lovely sunroom, where the dining table and mom's big jade tree now live, and beyond that is the backyard. In one corner is a barbecue pit/fireplace kinda thing; one the other side is a big wooden deck where there was once a pool. There are two sets of stairs, one on each side of the house; the set off the front room is skinny and steep, and leads to a loft area with two bedrooms. That's where Jolene & Max are. Below that is the master bedroom & bath, as well as another room Mom is using for her sewing room, and where the folks clothes hang. There aren't many closets in this house, for some odd reason, so Mom & Dad had to buy a wardrobe rack for their hanging items. On the other side of the house, off the laundry room (what Martha would call the "mud room"),is my room ,the entrance to the garage, & another set of stairs. These lead to two more small bedrooms with slanty roofs, where Hattie has staked her claim.

My room is just below hers, and has the bathroom that we share. The sliding glass door on the deck leads into my little room. I finally have a room that gets some sunshine! I hung colored sheers across the sliding door so I could have some privacy from the neighbors, and bring some color into the place. (The walls throughout the house are the same shade of cream.) I have a closet, too. My only complaints about my room so far is that there isn't any lighting in the closet (I fixed it by hanging fairy lights), and that my window is painted shut. I'm going to have to work on getting it open, because I hate not having any fresh air! I could just open the sliding door, I suppose, but that's a bit more air than I need.

I haven't done much decorating here in my space yet, other than the curtains. Usually I have a couple of bookshelves taking up most of my wall space, and here, it's all bare. So I'm taking my time, deciding where to hang the few things I'm going to hang. I did hang my Eiffel Tower poster in the bathroom--which is also yellow, by the way--and put some other tower accents in there. I plan on speaking with a French accent every time I take a shower.  Oooh la la.

 

 

 

All I want for Christmas....

Someone heard our pleas, prayers, posts, and whines! It's not even Christmas yet, and we have found a place to live! Mom & Dad have rented a house not far from where we are now, about a mile away, actually, and there is room for all of us. The close location makes them happy--they were so worried about being too far away from their church, as well as Max being far away from school. This also means we don't shouldn't have to pack quite as severely as if we were moving farther away. Of course, my Dad doesn't really believe that, and is packing us as if we are moving across the country. Which is funny, since 75% of the boxes we're for using this move are banana boxes, with holes in the tops.

The new house, at least what I've seen of it so far, seems nice. It's yellow. And kinda...well, pointy. Tomorrow I'm going over to explore and get a better look, and I'll take some pictures, so you can see what I mean.

As of today, the plan is that we'll all split the rent & utilities: the folks, Jolene, Hattie & myself. It's been agreed that I will be saving up, in hopes of being able to move into my own place. I'm hoping to do that by my birthday, in March.

The big problem now, of course, is packing. It's interfering with my actual life -you know, surfing the internet, reading, watching the telly, doing my nails, reading some more, snacking, and whining because I have to get all this crap in my room put into some boxes before my father has a conniption fit. I did pack my books, but that was the easy part. Books are simple-they're all the same basic shape, and don't need to be wrapped or cushioned. I've moved a lot in my life, and have packed boxes of books over & over & over; I can do it in my sleep. It's the other, random stuff that is going to be a pain in the tukkus. Once I get going, it'll be fine. What I really want for Christmas is someone else to do the packing, and moving for us--and that Dad would be somewhere else during the whole thing. He's getting on everyone's nerves, and the day of the move is going to be hell.



 

On a different subject, entirely: I saw Dr Jeff last week, and am now taking a new antidepressant combo, and have a referral to a therapist. He was concerned about me, and very nice about the whole thing, didn't make me feel ashamed or wrong in any way. I appreciate that. He also told me that if  I ever begin to feel as if I cannot fight the darkness again, I should call him, immediately. He promised to give the office and service orders to put me through if I call. I was pretty impressed that an GP would do that. This is one of the many things I like about him.

Here's another lovely thing to whine about:  two years ago, I informed the Department of Education that I was now considered "fully and permanently disabled," which meant that I was eligible to have my student loans forgiven. I filled out paperwork, had my doctor sign it, and sent it in. It never arrived. We went though this four or five times. My neurologist has left his position (he'd originally signed the papers), and the PA couldn't do the new paperwork. So the Department of Education decided I was in default, and sent my loans to collections. Because I needed one more thing to worry about, I took the new paperwork to Dr Jeff last week, and he's filled it all out, signed & sealed. I talked to the collections company today, and they were so sweet--frankly, I was confused. All I have to do now is either fax or email that paper, and they'll be off my back. Let's hope this works this time!

 

Okay. I'm off to bed, where I'll stay awake for the next two hours reading, I'm sure. Goody for me!

Book Review: My Mother Was Nuts

My Mother Was Nuts by Penny Marshall


Penny Marshall is a better comedian, actress and director than writer. I imagine that many of these stories were funny, and a heck of a lot more interesting when they happened, but, even hearing most of them told in her uniquely gravelly voice (I listened to the audio book), did not bring them to life. This is too bad, since she's lived quite a life.

Most folks my age remember Penny Marshall primarily as Laverne DeFazio on the sitcom "Laverne & Shirley," but these days, she's better known as a director and producer. although she's made some of the best known and well-loved (as well as biggest grossing!) films of our time, she's never been nominated for major awards for her work, even though her films have won. Let me clarify: Marshall was nominated as an actress for the Golden Globe 3 times for Laverne & Shirley, and has won awards from several other places for her films & her work in general, including receiving a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame.  But while several of her films (Big, Awakenings, Cinderella Man, A League of Their Own) were nominated and in several cases won Golden Globes or Oscars for actors, music, or various other things, Penny herself has been neglected. This isn't something that seems to bother her; as long as she's working, having fun, and getting to season tickets to sporting events, she's happy.

"I'm not someone who has had to deal with much personal drama outside of the usual: growing up with parents who hated each other, two marriages and divorces of my own. There was the cancer thing, too." This is how she opens her book. Having seen her work in Hollywood, I know she can tell a story, and there are places in her memoir where that shines through. Unfortunately, her natural low-key style keeps things from ever really taking off. I'm betting if someone presented this to her as a screenplay, she'd turn it down. As a matter of fact, while discussing making the film 'Riding In Cars With Boys,' she mentions that the action in the screenplay seems to jump from one time period to another, without any sort of transition, ""there were no in-betweens," and that it drove her crazy. I felt the same way about most of this book. I craved details, not just name-dropping. Don't just give me a list of all the famous people who were at the birthday parties she & Carrie Fisher co-hosted every year; tell me what they did! She mentions once that David Bowie & Iman crashed one of these parties, and that's it. She mentions it. Tell us about it! Great stories are in the details, and unfortunately, Penny Marshall leaves out too many of the details. She's had an amazing, interesting life, but if you want to know about it, this isn't the book to read.

 

So Much More

"There's so much more to a book than just reading."  -Maurice Sendak

My life has revolved around books, in some way, shape, or form, for as long as I can remember, and so when I came across this quote today, it struck me as especially true. Books have been my self-medication, that drug I turn to, reading until the pain is numbed or the anger faded; my anchor, helping to keep me calm in stormy seas; my inspiration, showing me that the light at the end of the tunnel isn't neccessarily a train (and if it is, teaching me how to avoid being run down!). Books continue to show me that I am not alone, and for that reason alone, I will never give up reading.

I am still fighting darkness, and this week, a book gave me some words I desperately needed. I began reading

Asylum: Hollywood Tales from My Great Depression: Brain Dis-Ease, Recovery, and Being My Mother's Son

by Joe Pantoliano, the actor best known for his role on The Sopranos (although I remember him primarily as Guido in Risky Business, this is how old I am!). I haven't made it past the introduction yet, and already, I'm reading parts of this book to family and friends, and writing a post about it. This man, who has struggled his entire life with depression, ADHD, and for years never knew what was really wrong, has put my feelings into words so eloquently, so perfectly, I can't talk about it without crying. As he discusses his brain disease, and the battles against the stigma of mental illness, he writes this, which is where I began to bawl:

"Louis B Mayer once said 'The most important thing about acting is sincerity....Once you learn to fake that, you got it made.' That's what my depression felt like- like I was faking it. Faking sincerity. Faking serenity. Faking life." (p. 224) Faking it is what I've been doing my entire life, it seems, but Joe finally put it into words.

There is much, much more to this book, and I know I'll have a whopper of a review for you all once I finish it. But right now, I just had to say that I have never been so glad I chose a book at the time I did.

By the way, I am beginning a new antidepressant tomorrow, (saw Dr Jeff today), and have a referral to a therapist, so with any luck, we'll get some of this darkness cleared away for good. Or at least find a nice storage facility for it.

Shades of Dark

It's been a rough week. Rollercoaster time. Not sure if it is the new meds, or just me, or all the crap going on around here, or a combination of all these things, but I've been sliding farther and farther into the darkness. Depression is something that I've lived with since I was very young-- the first episode that I remember was the summer after my tenth birthday. I spent as much time as I could hiding out in the spare bedroom in our house, or in the treehouse, always with a book, and finally, after a couple of weeks, I started to feel like hanging out with the other kids, and kinda snapped out of it. That was one of the shortest episodes in my memory, and one of the easiest. I just thought all this weirdness was part of "my changing body," a phrase that had been tossed around a lot that year. If that's what it was, well, then my body is still changing, because the weirdness, that darkness, has never completely gone away.

I've been on different anti-depressant meds over the year. Prozac was the first they gave me, but it made me feel as if I was wrapped up in cotton batting. I couldn't feel anything, good or bad; there were times even my senses were dulled, as if I were under water. I told the doc I'd rather feel lousy than not feel anything, because at least then I knew I was alive. She understood that. Next we tried a very low dose of Zoloft, and I stuck with that for a while. I was never sure if it actually did anything for my depression, but I know it affected my sex drive. Eliminated it. Antidepressants are the antiviagra.  Either way, after a couple of years I stopped taking it, since I seemed to be feeling better. (This was about the same time I was taking Keppra for my seizures, and it caused such obnoxious mood swings that I was ready to give up all meds.) Two and a half years ago, after Michele passed away, and all the other stuff that was happening around that time, I began having panic attacks again, something that hadn't happened in over ten years. And, I could feel the darkness creeping up. So back came the Zoloft, and that's what I've been on ever since.

Until the last month, when, in trying to figure out a solution for my TMJ, Dr Jeff added a small dosage of Valium to the mix, I'd been taking Flexeril to ease the TMJ pain at night, since the muscle relaxant stops me from grinding my teeth so much, and Valium had the same effect. Flexeril had a couple of obnoxious side effects--Sahara strength dry mouth, and, well, I'll be polite and call it "blockage." So we tried something else, and it worked, as well as having none of those side effects. It did make me a little sleepier than I am normally (because I'm not tired enough as it is), and I am afraid it may have made the darkness fall a little faster.

I found myself in tears at least twice a day, and on Monday, as I curled up on my bed, trying to take a nap, I scared myself. All these years, all this darkness, and for the first time, I thought how nice it would be to go to sleep and not wake up again. I started an inventory of the various meds in my room, and realized if I took them, I could make it happen. Honestly, this both terrified, and comforted me. If you've never been in this place, I don't know if you can understand, but knowing that there is something there that would take away all this pain, for good, it is an amazingly soothing thought. Fortunately, I am not that far in the dark. I called my sister, told her how I was feeling. She said she'd be home as soon as she could, and told me to take my big basket of meds out to mom in the front room, which I did. Within minutes, our niece, Shelley, was at the house, and then Jolene arrived. Shelley understands more than anyone else. We sat in my room for the next few hours, talking, crying, and eventually laughing. The dark faded from ebony to charcoal to fog.

The fog bank is still hanging over me. Depression doesn't just go away. I'm seeing the doctor again, and will be for the first time since college, going to therapy of some sort. Get these meds adjusted. Let some light in. There is a part of me that fights the urge to sleep all day, but I am fighting. As long as I'm fighting, I know I'll be okay. When I've stopped fighting, well, then darkness will truly fall.

Told Ya

I said in my recent post about our moving that plans would change. And they have. My sister has decided that she needs to take care of her children, and is looking for a place for the three of them, with out little ol' me. Now, I understand this, and I applaud her for chooseing her kids over all else--she is a great mother, always has been, and her children (while raging smart-asses, both of them!) adore her. Isn't this what a parent is supposed to do? Take care of their kids, sacrifice, all that stuff? I'd do the same, if I had any kids. So I am happy that my sister is a good mom, and will get her a big badge, or a bumper sticker or something as soon as I can. But....I am now stuck wondering what to do with myself.

Both of my parents have approached me with reminders that I can come and live with them, because there is always a place for me in their home. Yippee. I'll get to spend the rest of my life in another tiny room, with the too-loud sounds of Fox News and whatever sports event is on drifiting in, trying to pretend that this is the life I want. Nope.

I was so hoping for some kind of actual change, but it looks as if I'm not gonna get one. Other than the color of the walls, I'll be in pretty much the same place; More than likely, most of my belongings will remain boxed and in a garage or storage shed somewhere, unused and gathering dust. My big beautiful bookcase will remain empty and lonely, all the books in boxes. And forget about my having my own bathroom; this time around, I get to share everything with a pair of senior citizens.

Guess it's a good thing I don't have any semblance of a social life, huh? Bringing a guy back to an apartment I shared with my sister and an 11-year-old would have been difficult enough. I wouldn't even consider it in a home I share with my parents. Complete celibacy for me. Another thing that isn't changing.

I'm depressing myself again. I sure hope nobody out there reads this looking for uplifting, inspirtational posts, because these days, I ain't got those in me.

[caption id="attachment_1102" align="aligncenter" width="300"] This is how I feel.[/caption]

Dream A Little Dream of Corey

I graduated from high school in 1986, and was surrounded by the films of the Brat Pack & the Coreys, and was part of the very first MTV generation. I wanted to read Corey Feldman's memoir from the moment I heard he was writing one; it did not disappoint. Nobody expected great literature, but he has delivered a true and occasionally wrenching portrait of his life in Hollywood.

The death of Corey Haim was a heartbreaker, and after reading Corey Feldman's tale of his friend's abuse & molestation, the drug use makes much more sense. I watched both of their earlier movies (Stand By Me, The Goonies, Dream a Little Dream, Lost Boys, and my personal favorite, The 'Burbs) fondly, but never saw an episode of "The Two Corey's," the semi-reality television show they eventually made together. And I am glad. Watching The Surreal Life was bad enough--one can only take so much of fallen idols.

Feldman's relationship with Michael Jackson is discussed, of course, and is yet another heartbreaker. As with so many of the children who were Michael's friend, Corey Feldman has always maintained that Jackson never abused him in any way, and was a model of good behavior. But the media twisted his words, and destroyed one of the few friendships Corey had with an adult, causing him and Jackson to stop speaking for years before Michael's death.
Corey Feldman is a strong man to have survived the crazy abusive parents, molestation and drug abuse he has been through, things that killed so many of his friends. He's now sober, a father (and, it seems, a pretty good one!), musician, still working as an actor. Best of all, he is doing his best to change the way children are treated in Hollywood.



Oh, by the way: I always thought it was a shame that the press never reported the truth about Corey Haim's death. He did not die from an overdose. The autopsy showed he had pneumonia, and an enlarged heart. The only drugs found in his system were over the counter cold meds. He'd been clean, and sober, and was trying to get his life back on track, helping his mother who was going through chemo. Corey truly died of natural causes.

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ex7CmuStrKo

 

Does anyone want to give me a house for Christmas?

I can't honestly say I ever had a grand plan for my life, but I can say that this wasn't it. To be 46-years-old, divorced, childless, in chronic pain, and soon to be homeless. That is the issue I am whining about right now (I don't have any real problems with being divorced, since I am on very friendly terms with my ex-husband. The childless thing, well, that's something I will discuss with God some day.).

My parents, John & Arlene, are selling the family home. This is where they, my sister Jolene and her two children have lived for the last eleven years. Max has never lived anywhere else--we brought him here from the hospital. I've moved around a bit while they've owned this house, but have always had a room to come back to. I was living here when I met Charlie, and when I both married and divorced him. Totally not the point, I know, but still...

They've been talking about selling for a while, but decided to actually do it seemingly overnight. . Apparently the folks assumed we were all going to move together again, into yet another big house, but one we would rent, rather than try to make house payments on. They aren't too happy that none of us are going along with that plan. Jolene & I have mostly decided that she & I and Max will find a place a together, and that will work, we hope. Mom and Dad will have to find their own place, as will Hattie Jo. Of course, this plan has changed several times, and continues to do so.

If I had the money, and could have my way, I'd get my own place. But that isn't going to happen. EVER, apparently. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, I do. But I am sick and tired of living with them. Of being treated as if I'm either not there at all, or if I am there, as if I'm still 14-years-old. My sister doesn't treat me like a teenager, but neither of us is real considerate of the other. I'd really like to live somewhere where the menu consists of more than pizza and chicken nuggets. I'm going to spend the rest of my life living with others, it seems, living in a place filled with cigarette smoke, video game noises, and fast food. Sounds like living in a college dorm.

I have dreams of my own little flat, decorated just to my specifications, dreams that will never come true. (I am depressing myself.) My Pinterest boards are filled with dream images of this fantasy place-- a beautiful bedroom (I have one of those now, really), a bathroom I don't have to share that is not decorated with cartoon fish, a kitchen not overflowing with plasticware or processed food. Books everywhere, and no Fox News EVER!!  Granted, I am not the most ambitious of people, and it's quite likely my place wouldn't be as perfect as I'd hope. But what ever is? Still, I can continue to dream, can't I?

Looking for a new place to live has caused huge stress for our entire family. If a day goes by without a fight or tears, it's a wonder. Dad is driving us all crazy, because in his semi-dementia state, he seems to believe that we should be able to just clap our hands, and like Tinkerbell coming back to life, the perfect home will appear. Perhaps, in his world, I'll be able to do my Bewitched nose twitch and furnish this new home as well. Makes me wonder what happens when the Law & Order doink plays.

We're looking for new homes, just in time for Christmas. I don't think Santa is going to bring any of us what we need this year.

Call Me Grinchy

It's not even Thanksgiving yet, and I'm already sick of the holiday season. There was a time I liked Christmas music, as well as the Christmas season. Many things have ruined that for me, primarily the over-commerciallization of what should be a happy time. The commercials began before Halloween, and I am not as fast with the mute button on the remote as I'd like to be, so I keep hearing the carols over and over. I now throughly detest 'Carol of the Bells.' If I am ever captured by terrorists, all they'd have to do is threaten to play that song over and over again, and I'd break.

Of course, being a single woman at the holidays is never any fun. Everything is aimed at families, or couples, or children. The only ads aimed at singles are those for couples, telling us that every kiss begins with k. (Duh.)

I am a woman in the middle of her life, no children, no job, poor-to-middling health, and at this point no pets. I don't have a home of my own to decorate, family meals to host or prepare, parties to attend, or even many people to send cards to.

Wow. That sounds more pathetic than I intended it to, and much more pathetic than my life actually is. Sure, things aren't all roses and lollipops these days, but frankly, I'm not all that fond of roses or lollipops! I like tulips and lemondrops!  I started this post to whine a bit about how annoyed I am about how commercial the holidays have become, and I lost my train of thought.

I'm going to go now, and watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas.' It's still the only holiday television show that reflects the true meaning of the season. Plus, the music is awesome. And I love the way they all dance.

Not sleeping, not so beautiful.

The long-awaited sleep study took place last week, at Providence Milwaukie Hospital's Sleep Lab (and I am just now writing about it because I am the Queen of Procrastination!). It's always fun, going to a strange place at night, being told to put your pyjamas on, watch a video, and then get a bunch of wires attached to your body. I'd recommend it to everyone looking for a groovy night out. I was pretty sure I'd have trouble sleeping while wired up, since I have issues sleeping in my own bed, with my own stuff touching me. How was sleeping with wires taped to my calves and head, strapped to my chest & waist, and (worst of all) a little prong-thingy in my nose going to be possible?!

 

[caption id="attachment_1077" align="aligncenter" width="225"] Not only did the wires totally f#*k up my hair, the one on my chin itched, and the ones in my nose were frigging' ANNOYING![/caption]

Oddly enough, I was able to sleep. Which probably shouldn't surprise me, since my life is just that weird. I didn't sleep WELL, but I did sleep. The next morning, it was confirmed that I do not have sleep apnea (which I was pretty sure I didn't anyway), but that I'd never gone into REM sleep, and that my RLS had been active all night. I'm not sure yet what these things mean, since I've not spoken to the doctor about this, yet, but that no-REM-sleep-thing can't be good, can it?

On another note, I did see the doctor about my sore ankle and bad ear. A visit to Dr. Jeff, with his pointy shoes and metrosexual style, is always a pleasure, and not just because he's a snazzy dresser. He's a good doctor, pays attention to what I'm saying, and takes care of things right away. This time, he sent me to physical therapy to work on getting my ankle fixed, and gave me ear drops for the infection I didn't even know I had. I've had trouble with my left ear for the last year, ever since I got water in it, and over the last month it had hurt off and on. Now, I'm putting in ear drops four times a day, and with luck, will feel better soon.  Big fun.

Sleeping Beauty

I got up early this morning to head across town to the Oregon Clinic for a consultation in their sleep department. My sleep issues are annoying, so the doctor sent me for a sleep study, and this guy today is the one who decides if I need that study. I had a short physical exam, answered a lot of questions, and discussed my sleep hygiene. -"The bed is for sleep and intimacy only. Establish a consistent bedtime and rise time."  Things like that. I'll be doing a sleep study soon, and until then, keeping a sleep diary, as well as working on this sleep hygiene. 

Sleep has always been so difficult for me. I spend hours each night tossing and turning, wishing my brain would shut the hell up so I can sleep. Over the years I've learned how to make sure my room is the right temperature--I cannot sleep in a warm room--as well as well-ventilated. I have used white noise machines, ocean and nature music on my iPod to block out all the noises in the house. These days I sleep with earplugs, and they work much better than the white noise ever did. There are so many types of earplugs; I discovered an entire website devoted to them, which surprised me.  I am still searching for the perfect plugs; my ears are small, and the foam plugs hurt to sleep in. I am using silicon earplugs right now, and while they don't block as much noise as the foam, they are much more comfortable. Finding decent pj's is a pain, as well. I am very picky, and I am fat; this makes it nearly impossible to find something to sleep in that isn't decorated with Disney characters or sports logos. Not sure why the marketing world thinks that all women over a size 12 want to go to bed dressed like Minnie Mouse or Hello Kitty, but it gets on my nerves. All I want is a pair of simple, cotton pyjamas in basic colors--pink, blue, white, green, purple. Stripes, maybe dots or floral, but nothing else. I'm going to have to make my own, I've determined. Big fun. 

I do love my sleep mask, though. It's pink and black, with embroidered closed eyes with long lashes on the front. Wearing it, I feel like Audrey in Breakfast At Tiffany's. Somehow, I'm always able to sleep better in it, plus, I feel so glamorous! 

As I embark on yet another change in my life, and try to sort out my sleep habits, I'm hoping that this will be a good thing. And that I can finally get pyjamas I like. 

Dejection

I know that nearly everyone on the internet has written something about death and depression in the last week, and so I hesitated to write this. After all, I don't want to be like everyone else, now do I? But frankly, the issues I'm writing about here have been on my mind for much longer than a week or two, and Robin Williams' death only served to bring some of them to public attention again. I haven't posted since the end of July, and these mental health issues are why.

I don't feel much these days and it is causing me to do some big thinking. I've no problem with anger; getting angry is easy. But everything else is nearly impossible. I know what started this, but how to fix it is a whole other kettle of fish. I don't trust emotions much any more, especially since I am not feeling that many of them, and when I do, they are bad. I've always let my heart, or my "gut" guide me, and for the most part, it's gotten me in trouble. It started with Steven, and all the crap he put me through, and then got worse after Michele died. Her death, and especially her memorial service were very difficult for me; even though we knew she wasn't going to make it. But that service just about killed me. I physically shut down, was ill for nearly days. I ended up spending most of the time I was in my home town in bed, rather than seeing people, which I regret. Losing her, my best friend for over 30 years, was devastating. I miss her every day. 

 I'm spending too much time wanting to sleep, hide in my room, or just vanish into my mind these days, and it worries me. They say if you're worried about the state of your mental health, then there's nothing to worry about, but I am not sure that's true. I can worry about having a panic attack and still have one (or two or three); I can be nervous that I'll not make it through the week without a slightly manic episode (I've not been diagnosed, but I likely have low-grade bipolar disorder 2) and still have one and end up spending money that I don't have, or something else I shouldn't do. I have been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder --also known as Clinical Depression-- along with a type of seasonal affective disorder. I'm just a bunch of fun. I fight against demons of health, physical and mental, every day, and it's getting really old. There are days I just feel like giving in, finding a nice looney bin and checking myself in. While I was watching television the other night, I was almost jealous of the guy in the mental health treatment center; he looked so content. Part of me just wants to climb inside my mind and hide forever. Of course, that is kind of what I am doing these days, isn't it? I just hide in books, and movies, and internet crap. 

I am scared of so much--things I was never afraid of before. Anxious and worried so much of the time. I want to stay in bed. When I think about going out, I start getting nervous, and if I think about it too long, the panic attack starts. My heart starts racing, I start tracing, I feel faint, can't breathe, and my fingers get tingly. Then all I can do is close my eyes, take deep breaths, and hide somewhere private until it passes. It's easier to stay in my room. 

Reading Coleridge doesn't help, though...

 

 

 

 

Gone, Google, Gone

It's been a month now, as Max reminded me today. Miss Google has been gone for a month. Five weeks, actually. I miss her terribly. Her meow, her warm presence at the foot of my bed, the way she always curled up on top of whatever I was reading, her constant presence in my life. Every time  I get up in the night, I go to the back window, hoping to see her sitting on the porch railing, waiting for someone to let her in; every time I let Daisy in or out, I hope she'll be there, wanting me to let her in as well. But no such luck. My baby is gone. I only hope that where ever she ended up, she's happy. If she was killed, it was not painful, or slow. That if she's in pet heaven, she's hanging out with Belle and Cat-Cat, having tuna and cream. If she's with a  new family, they are treating her well, and she loves them. I'll miss her forever.

There's a moment.

Jenny just said pretty much everything I've been wanting to say this week. Right now I'm having a difficult time remembering that there is light on the other side, that things will be better, that it won;t always hurt this much. And I appreciate that I am not the only one trudging. Wait for me, please?

Sad Sunday

I'm sad today. Part of me is missing, has been for days. My kitty, MissGoogle, went out in the backyard Thursday afternoon, and hasn't been back since. We've looked all up and down the block for her, asked all the neighbors, asked the county humane society, and there is no sign of her. She's wearing her collar and tag, as always, but nary a call has come in.

MissG has been with me since 2009. She was so tiny, so cute, and I fell in love with her from the moment we met.

Everybody loved her. She has always been able to squirm her way into strange hiding places, as well as people's hearts. Even my dad likes her, and he claims to hate cats. She's gotten bigger, of course, and is kinda chubby these days. Jolene calls her Google McFatty, but in a nice way. Max looks at her two or three times a day, and asks "Hey, Google, search Max" and if she looks at him, he says she's done it right.

Without my baby girl, my room seems empty, and my heart is broken. I can onlyhope she comes home soon.





 

Blah Blah Blah

It's been a painful week for me. Since last Monday afternoon, I've had neck pain, sore shoulders, and increasing headache pain. From the basic dull ache at the base of my skull (which always comes with that sore neck), to a series of intense stabbing pains. This afternoon I felt as if someone was repeatedly piercing my temple with a red-hot ice pick. I've spent hours days curled up under my quilt in bed, all the lights off, praying for the pain to go away. Never have I been so thankful for my sleep mask and ear plugs, because lights, and the sound of sports from my father's television, have nearly killed me. And then, Sunday night, around 10:30, I had a seizure. First one since February. Which means that after that, I had a bigger headache, my tongue hurts where I bit it, and I'm tired. As well, I am sore all over; my legs hurt the most, and just moving kills.



So. Instead of spending this week helping Charlie move into his new apartment, like I had planned, I'm sitting here in my room, watching television, eating jello. Reading. Right now I'm waiting for the season premiere of one of my favorite shows to begin on TNT. Rizzoli & Isles is a crime drama based on a book series, as most of my favorites are. I'd read all of the books by Tess Gerritsen, long before the show began.

Most of my favorite shows are based on books. Sherlock. True Blood. Dexter. Bones (although I don't care for the books).  My favorite movies, too. Cold Comfort Farm. The Color Purple.  Bridget Jones Diary. The Harry Potter films. Sense and Sensibility. And Pride and Prejudice. Oh, and To Kill A Mockingbird!

Yes, I'm babbling. So what. Go read a book if you don't like it. Or watch a television show based on one.

Getting To Know Me...

Recently I came across this list of questions on a blog, and decided to post them, and their answers, simply because I like talking about myself, and can never do it enough!

Getting to know me:

1.  What time did you get up this morning?  I woke up around 7, the first time, and went back to sleep, finally getting out of bed just before 10.


2.  How do you like your steak? Rare, with A-1!


3.  What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Magic Mike!


4.  What is your favorite TV show? Tie between True Blood, Sherlock & Bones. Although I've not watched Bones at all this season...


5.  If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? I'd love to live on a Coast, near the ocean. Always been my dream. Or back in New Mexico.


6.  What did you have for breakfast? Today was a strange day: I had tuna & Triscuits for breakfast, and my smoothie for lunch.


7. What is your favorite cuisine? Toss up between Chinese/Asian and Italian, depending on my mood.


8.  What foods do you dislike?  "Goopy" foods, like potato salad, coleslaw- almost anything mayonnaise based. My mother apparently makes great potato salad, and always asks if I want some. 46 years, and I've always said "EWW, gross, no!!" You think she'd stop asking.


9. Favorite Place to Eat? Olive Garden, or the Tik Tok Diner.


10.  Favorite dressing? real Cesar dressing.


11.  What kind of vehicle do you drive? I don't drive anymore: my last car was a Honda Accord. My dream car would either be something retro, like a '57 Chevy, or something small & green, like a mini Cooper or a Bug. Painted a fabulous color, of course!


12. What are your favorite clothes?  Comfort is my watch word--I love yoga pants, leggings, tee shirts, big sweaters, cardigans and fuzzy socks.


13.  Where would you visit if you had the chance? The Smithsonian & The Library of Congress. London and Paris. EVERYWHERE!


14.  Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full? Full...


15.  Where would you want to retire?  The beach...


16. Favorite time of day? I rock 11:45 a.m. like nobody's business!


17. Where were you born? Custer, South Dakota. My dad always tells me I was the cutest baby in the hospital. Then someone points out that I was the only baby in the hospital...


18.  What is your favorite sport to watch?  Um...men's figure skating.


19.  Bird watcher? Not really, although I'd love to see the California Condors in the wild.


20.  Are you a morning person or a night person? Neither one.


21.  Do you have any pets? MissGoogle, my adorable kitty.


22.  Any new and exciting news you'd like to share? Cleaned my room...


23. What did you want to be when you were little?  Cher, or a teacher. I got to be a teacher. Maybe someday I'll be Cher.


24.  What is your best childhood memory?  In the back seat of our station wagon at night, Jolene asleep beside me, Mom at the wheel, watching the stars out the window as we drove down the highway, the radio playing softly, as we drove to South Dakota for our summer vacation. I always felt so safe and happy then.


25.  Are you a cat or dog person? Cat.


26.  Are you married? Not anymore.


27.  Always wear your seat belt? Yep. Saved my life once.


28.  Been in a car accident? A few, caused by my epilepsy. This is why I don't drive anymore.


29.  Any pet peeves?  I am so easily irritated, it isn't even funny.... But big ones are spitting (gross);  people who misuse "you're" & "your" "their" & "they're"; and leaf blowers.


30.  Favorite Pizza Toppings? Bacon.


31.  Favorite Flower? Tulips and roses


32. Favorite Ice cream? Almost anything...all ice cream is good! Strawberry cheesecake, pb fudge, and pralines & cream!


33. Favorite fast food restaurant? Jack In the Box, or Burgerville, if I'm feeling flush!


34.  Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Assuming I don't have to pay the bill, Powell's Books, or maybe Macy's.


35.  Broccoli? Roasted broccoli with garlic salt is one of my favorite things!


36.  What was your favorite vacation? Visiting Michele in Toronto. Also my saddest...


37.  Last person you went out to dinner with? Charlie, my ex-husband & friend.


38.  What are you listening to right now?  The Color Purple Soundtrack


39.  What is your favorite color? purple & blue.


40.  How many tattoos do you have? None, yet.


41. Coffee Drinker?  Oh, yes. I tried to give it up, but I'm weak...


42. What is your job title?  Early Childhood Educator; reader; blogger; sister; aunt; daughter; friend; Queen of Procrastination.


43.  What do you do all day?  Read, surf the web, hang out with my family, play with MissGoogle, watch tv, attempt to better myself, read some more. Listen to music. Eat.  


44. What is your favorite thing to do with your time?  READ.


45.  What book should everyone read?  I'll give ya four: The Color Purple, by Alice Waters; Welcome To The Great Mysterious by Lorna Landvik (also read Patty Jane's House of Curl, by her!); Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry; and A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving.


46.  What movie should every one watch?  Some Like It Hot. Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis.


47. What is your credo?  “Never put off till tomorrow what may be done day after tomorrow just as well". -Mark Twain

Letting My Hair Down

My hair is driving me crazy. Last autumn, in a fit of stupidity that I regret every day, I chopped off my longish hair (it was just barely below my shoulders) to chin-length.

[caption id="attachment_1021" align="aligncenter" width="120"] Before[/caption]

And a month or so after that, I cut it even shorter.

[caption id="attachment_1005" align="aligncenter" width="300"] After, part 1[/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1003" align="aligncenter" width="300"] After, Part 2[/caption]

 

I must have been out of my mind. I hate having short hair. I think I look like a fat lesbian (not really the look I was going for, not that there's anything wrong with fat lesbians.).  Still, I've had my hair many lengths over the years, from all the way down my back to ear-length. My first big hair-cut was at age 12, when I went to the mall one day with some girlfriends, and on the spur-of-the-moment, cut it to my shoulders. Photos of me from junior high show a hair tragedy (and that;s saying something, since it was the '80's!), and in high school, it was only marginally better.

[caption id="attachment_1009" align="aligncenter" width="300"] Rhonda & Shelley both rocked the 80's big hair (this was a small-hair day), but mine just looked...nice.[/caption]

In college, I let it grow out, and was happy with it.

[caption id="attachment_1023" align="aligncenter" width="300"] I loved my hair this length. And the curls were fab![/caption]

I kept letting it grow. I had long hair for my wedding, even though the style I chose was awful!

[caption id="attachment_1025" align="aligncenter" width="218"] Long hair, but NO style![/caption]

Longer for the next few years, as well.







 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I cut it this short, I'm still trying to figure out. I remember complaining about not being able to do anything with it, being tired of endless ponytails, but I know it was better than it is now. So one of my summer projects is to grow my hair. (Another is to clean my room, but I think my hair will be long again before that happens!) I've researched (meaning: looked at stuff on Pinterest) ways to grow hair fast, and I'm trying some out. Scalp massage, Biotin, and a type of bergamot oil are all on the list. Wish me luck. Hair shouldn't be a tragedy! 

 

 

There's A Word for That?

Migraineur:

mi·grain·eur

mēgrəˈnər,ˌmīgrā-/

noun

 someone who suffers from migraine headaches.

Earlier this week, I was doing some research online, trying to see if there was a connection between the two glasses of pseudo-Crystal Light I'd been having now that the weather is warming up and the massive migraines I'd been having, when I learned some nifty things. Such as the word migraineur. Makes sense that there's a word for people like me, but it had never occurred to me.

Reading about triggers was rather enlightening as well. I wasn't all that surprised to learn that artificial sweeteners are a big migraine trigger, since they cause all sorts of problems. I try to avoid them, preferring natural sugar, really I do. But for some reason, every summer, I go through this diet drink frenzy where I consume Crystal Light, or the fake store brand equivalent, in all it's many flavors. No more of that for me. I'd rather be fat than in pain. Sugar is a trigger for many people, but I have to consume a huge amount before it gives me a headache; same with caffeine. Alcohol, on the other hand, give me pain within an hour or two of my first cocktail. No big deal, since I've never been a big drinker. Some of the other common food triggers are chocolate, cheese (hard or fermented), processed meats, and gluten. To the best of my knowledge, none of these are triggers for me. Good thing, too, because I don't want to give up chocolate. Life is hard enough. Other triggers include weather changes, bright lights or loud noises, perfumes, lack of sleep, stress, missing meals, dehydration, hormonal changes, and crying. Yep, one reason I avoid the cosmetics counter at department stores. Those perfume samples are killers. Same as the laundry detergent aisle in the grocery store. First I sneeze, then I get a headache. No fun.

Here's what really came as a surprise to me, however. In an article called 'What's Your Strangest Migraine Symptom?' I learned that several things that have been happening to me for years are likely migraine-related. And here, I thought I was just crazy. Or had a brain tumor.

One of these symptoms, Alice in Wonderland Syndrome, is a disorder that causes a person to believe that body parts (and in some cases their environment), are changing shape or size. For me, it usually means that I feel as if one hand is growing larger and larger, as if it's a huge clown glove, filled with air. It never lasted very long, but felt as if it did. Once, when a migraine was so bad I had to go to the ER for treatment, this happened after they gave me the fun shot; that time, I felt as if my ears were getting bigger and bigger.

The first time I remember this happening I was eleven-years-old. I had been reading in the afternoon during summer break, and suddenly, my right thumb began to grow. It didn't last long, or get very big, and I don't remember if a headache followed it, but I do remember being totally freaked out. Until recently, I never told anyone about it.

When I was in junior high, I read Stephen King's 'The Dead Zone' for the first time, and one thing from that book has stuck with me ever since. The neurologist asks Johnny if he ever smells anything unusual, like rotting oranges, or feces, when there is nothing there; apparently this  a sign of a brain tumor. Well, it turns out these types of sensory hallucinations are also a migraine symptom, one I've had often. I was pretty sure I didn't have a brain tumor, because I've had my fair share of MRI's & CT scans, thanks to the epilepsy, but thanks to Mr. King, I was always scared. Now, I don't need to.

I do wish that one of the neurologists I've seen over the years had pointed some of this stuff out. I'm especially cheesed that the migraine specialist I've been seeing for the last year never mentioned any of this. I appreciate that there are all these online communities, but shouldn't a doctor have said something?!

I'm sure there's a word for how I feel.

It's Not Hoarding if They're eBooks, Right?

If Hoarders ever decides to do a show on people who have too many books, they'd over look me, because, really, my library of "real" books isn't that big. Comparatively speaking, that is. Not nearly big enough to land me a spot on a show like that. My ebook library, on the other hand, is getting out of control.

I'm fairly sure that I have at least 150 unread books on my Kindle app. Then there are the ones on Aldiko, Google Books, Moon+Reader, and  OverDrive. We won't even mention the dozens of fanfiction books/stories lurking about my tablet, or the audiobook waiting to be listened to. And I'm not counting the things I HAVE read. 
Except for those things I've read before in a paper version, all of these are new to me. I'm addicted to free book sites, and some days, spend more time searching out free things to download than I do reading. It's distressing. 

 

Now, this is not to say I don't read at all, because we all know that isn't true. I'm halfway through an odd book called Ketchup Clouds by Annabel Pitcher.



 

It's a YA novel about a teen girl writing to a man on death row, and confessing all her dark secrets to him. Twisted. Just my style.

 

 

 

Blood and Poetry

I went to college. Actually, I went to several colleges, and changed my major several times before I finally finished, but that's totally not the point. The BA I finally ended up with is in English:Creative Writing:Poetry, with a minor in Theater. Yes, that's a degree that will get you a job in any field!

I always enjoyed poetry, although I'm still not sure why I chose to major in it. I'm more of a reader than a writer, in spite of the many aspirations my mother has for me. I did put together a collection (a "thesis" if you will) for my final project, and gave many readings for classes. That part I was good at; I'd never had a problem being in front of others. But over the years I've written less and less, and I miss it. In an effort to get back in the groove, so to speak, I dug up as many of my old poems as I could find. Aren't you lucky--I'm going to post some of them! (Be afraid, be very afraid!)

Before we get to today's poem, can someone explain to me why, when I am feeling low, watching a show like Dexter, or reading a Jonathan Kellerman novel, full of blood and mayhem, monsters and murder, makes me feel so much better? It can't just be me, or these things wouldn't be as popular as they are, right? I've spent the last two days watching Dexter on Netflix, while doing all the other things I need to do. And yes, I suddenly feel so much more normal. Really, compared to most of the characters on this show, I'm a paragon of mental health. Good to know.

And now for the literary portion of today's post! One of my favorites. Enjoy.

 

Wilhelmina

In a hypothetical world,

I am a bimbo goddess of poetry,

Enshrined in my coffeehouse castle,

my words the songs of a generation.

Attended by sugary seraphim upon my beachside throne,

my name resonates on the tongues of cappuccino demigods.

He, bespectacled, brilliant, falls at my feet,

quoting darkly my childlines.

As gilded graces join us in our dance,

we whirl through a city of stars into

our moonpalace home.

Fall through velvet loveclouds into beds of miracles.

Strongly carefree of wings or wheels,

tasting of copper and chocolate,

a literary, bad-­tempered love of scarlet phrases in my head.

He whispers, solemn:

“God has spoken, and he sounds like Elvis.”

Fear of the Unknown

If I were a Harry Potter character, I'm fairly sure the Sorting Hat would not have placed me in Gryffindor, simply because I'm not really a brave person. Yes, at times in my life, I've been able to stand up in front of the crowd, singing or acting, and I was, for a long time, very good at making new friends. Not so much any more. The last few years of my life have left me a very different person, and so many things scare me these days. It's difficult to be in crowds, and the idea of having to talk to too many people I don't know is terrifying.  I've had panic attacks in public places, including the local Fred Myer, where I wound up crying in the manager's office. These events had been getting farther between, until recently, when certain things began making me very nervous.

If you've been reading this for long, you know I share a home with my extended family: my parents, who are 78 and 83; my younger sister and her two children, who are 10 and 20; plus two cats and a dog. During the last year my father lost his job, and hasn't been able to find another one; he has also begun showing signs of dementia, which is difficult for all of us. Mom hasn't worked outside the home in years; they have some Social Security coming in, but no savings. My sister hasn't had a steady job in over a year, just temp things, and my while my niece has a full-time job, she doesn't help out much. Hence, the only real income in the household now are my SSI/SSD checks every month, and Mom & Dad's Social Security. Not a lot for all these people to live on. Jolene & I both get food stamps, which helps, and for now, all of our medical expanses are taken care of. The big issue is the house payment; we cannot afford this house.

When I moved back in here two years ago, my goal was to stay a few months and then get a place of my own. But things went downhill very fast; I sank into depression after the breakup and Michele's death, and still haven't fully recovered. It was easier to hide in this room than get on with my life. But now, I don't have a choice, and this scares me. My parents are talking about selling the house, and this means we'll all have to move. Sure, they've been talking about selling for years, but this time they're actually doing things to put it in motion. Getting the basement presentable. Talking to realtors. Getting rid of things. And scaring the hell out of me.

My tiny room is full of stuff, and I have dozens of boxes in the garage. Every few days I'm encouraged to begin sorting, getting rid of things, both so the place will look better for prospective buyers, and so it will be easier to move. Jolene has done a bit of this in, but I've yet to begin, even though I've nothing but time on my hands.

At first I thought I was just procrastinating, as usual, being my normal lazy self.  I've had several conversations about where I'd go when the house sold with different people. Jolene proposed we get an RV, put Max in online school, and tour the country. I've discussed getting an apartment with my ex-husband and friend, Charlie (we get along well, and he's easy to live with), but it's never gone farther than discussion.  But recently I realized that I honestly have no idea what is going to happen to any of us, and this is nerve-wracking.  Some part of me believes if I don't do anything, the unknown will stay far, far in the future, and I won't have to think about it. Denial is my favorite river, and I swim deep in it.



Talking about things helps, so they say. I've discussed this fear with Jolene, and Mom, and now you. Let's hope it helps, because I cannot continue doing nothing, as much as I might like to. Getting past the fear is going to be hard. I may have to channel my inner Steel Magnolia and remember "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

A Few Reccomendations

I promised some fanfiction recommendations, and here they are. I've read so many, but these are just a few that I truly liked. I'll add more later. All of these are in the Harry Potter universe, and are mostly Drarry stories. I confess, I do like those slash stories!



 

Jonna's HP FanFic Recs, Part One

 

The Bound Prince series by slash perv and sayingsorry_hh                                       (7 volumes, Harry/Draco, ADULT)

This seven volume series is extremely well written, and is available on slash perv’s website as a free pdf download. Beginning with that pivotal moment in Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince where Harry finds Draco crying in the bathroom; in this version, instead of hexing each other, they kiss, and from there, things escalate. Serious m/m slash, with lots of explicit sex: really, in nearly every chapter after the first couple, Harry & Draco are shagging, sometimes on a life-or-death basis. Some of the best long reads out there.

 

A British Summer by Omi_Ohmy                                                                                (One Shot, Harry/Draco, Explicit, Smut)

Ice cream.  After the war, and a very public breakup with Ginny, Harry has become a recluse. Draco is surprised when he runs into him scooping ice cream in a Muggle town on a summer afternoon.  I love ice cream (and sorbet, and gelato, and frozen yogurt...) and this story called out to me. It is yummy--but be warned, it’ll have you craving a frozen treat!

 

Vale Sanare by RurouniHime                                                                             (Draco/Harry, one shot, angst)

This is not a happy little fic, but it speaks to me.  Draco suffers seizures as an after-effect of something that happened during the war (we never find out what), and Harry helps him to find ways to cope. Turns out the war left Harry with some physical issues of his own. I am epileptic, and I seldom read anything that talks about seizures, simply because most writers cannot get the way seizure disorders affect a person right. This author does a spot-on job of describing both Draco’s seizures themselves (from his POV), and the way he feels after; I especially like the way the author describes his aura:

“Everything is the colour of plums, so dark and so opaque that Draco doesn't know what happens next. He could be falling. He could be standing. He could be breaking his nose on the floor right this instant, this eternity, and bleeding over Harry's floorboards—”

 

Not Only Fine Feathersby fantasyfruitbat                                                                 (Harry/Draco NC-17, one-shot, veela!)

I confess to a liking for veela fics, and this is a bit different from most. After the war, a mistreated, caged and feral veela is discovered in a Death Eater safe house, and will only respond to Harry. Of course, this veela turns out to Draco. The Ministry wants to put him down, but Harry fights to save him.

 

Checkmate by Naadi                                                                                           (Harry/Draco, romance/angst)

Set during their seventh year at Hogwarts, this is a multi-chapter fiction that is canon through Goblet of Fire. Draco challenges Harry to a game of dare chess, and throughout the fiction, an actual game of chess is played. But is his ultimate goal love or betrayal?

This is a very popular fic, and even won some awards. The fan art for it is numerous, and includes a Lego version of one chapter, linked here.

 

Sex, Lies and Veritaserum  by lettered                                                            (Harry/Draco, one-shot, explicit)

The warning on this story states “This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.” And it’s the truth. When Draco spikes the wine with veritaserum, he and his husband Harry begin a conversation about their sexual fantasies and desires. This gets rather explicit, and hot. Hey, they aren’t all love stories, folks.

 

And An Owl Named Romeo by Rickey                                                                   (Draco/Harry, romance)

Draco breeds owls, Harry is an Auror, and an owl brings them together. The characterization in this love story is wonderful, and so is the romance!

 

Nothing Like The Sun by Lomonaaeren                                                            (Harry/Draco, angst/romance, NC-17)

Don’t go into this one expecting happy happy joy joy. In this story, Harry has been convinced by his past lovers that not only is he too ugly and lousy at sex to keep a wizard lover. He tries to get better, and compromises by wearing glamours, and finally, deciding to be content with one-night-stands with Muggles. Then along comes Draco, who messes everything up by wanting a relationship. This was a difficult story to read--Harry’s pain is palpable. But stick with it. It’s worth it.

 

It’s My Life by Fyreheart                                                                                                   (Harry, AU)

This is an alternate universe fiction, and one of the best I’ve read. After his second year at Hogwarts, Harry realizes that things aren’t quite what they should be, and he decides to change them. He does this by becoming pro-active in his life, and making huge changes--including leaving Hogwarts, and England. It’s an interesting idea, exploring “what if?”