Thu 17 Mar 2016
For St. Patrick’s Day, here’s the incomparable Eddie Lenihan telling a tale:
Thu 17 Mar 2016
For St. Patrick’s Day, here’s the incomparable Eddie Lenihan telling a tale:
Mon 16 Dec 2013
SHAME: We got home from the doctor late and I’m so exhausted I’m sitting in the house with the lights out hiding from the trick or treating kids. I usually love having them but it’s been a very stressful few weeks.
The Sears robot is still calling to say I need to reschedule the repair appointment for the dishwasher. I’ve called the Repair Desk several times. After complaining again to them that I don’t need repair I got yet another call from the repair scheduling robot and a tweet from SearsCares. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that SearsCares breaks down to Sear Scares. It’s been my experience with them lately.
The Amazon Prime goodie bag went into the dumpster along with a box of other clutter. The need to purge the Room of Doom is strong.
Having posted about my virtuous purging of junk I then opened a box of crap I ordered from American Science & Surplus: http://www.sciplus.com/ They’re sort of a depository for unwanted but interesting junk. Kind of like my house. Left hand, right hand.
Color outside the lines, but read between them.
I shall rename myself The Great Phlegmingo. I’d really like to stop coughing now, weeks after getting the cold.
Every once in awhile, after not reading one of your novels for a long time, you surprise yourself with how much you like it. Mostly it’s cringing, though.
Why do people adopt children only to abuse them or “give them back” when things get challenging? It sickens me.
The only thing worse than watching jury orientation online is watching it at the court house.
Sears now claims they never got the plumbing invoices I sent October 29. I think sarcasm is in order, don’t you?
I postponed jury duty because my legs are not up to the hilly walking conditions in downtown L.A.
In other science news: You are what you eat may not be just another outmoded hippy slogan: http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2013/11/18/244526773/gut-bacteria-might-guide-the-workings-of-our-minds …
You know what I don’t need? Someone who doesn’t know a thing about the day to day of my life giving me advice about what I “should” do.
I stayed home from work today because my knee was in such bad shape I needed to sit with ice on it for as many hours as I could stand. It’s somewhat better.
Some days Mom is victorious over the microwave. Other days it is beyond her and I get these phone calls asking me to diagnose over the phone. On those days, I wish to be shot in the head. But not really, Universe! I’ve got too much to do.
I just bought a mystery solely because the detective is named Pamela Thompson.
Well, I’ve had my Christmas miracle. My mother apologized to me.
The only thing certain in this world are death, taxes, and Kardashians.
Dear PJ: you cannot hide the similes by using “as if” instead of “like.” We can still see them.
Apparently I needed to be punished more. My knee was just starting to get better and I fell at Ralphs and wrenched it worse.
Mom went back in the hospital this morning. She either has an infection or a persistent virus. Either way she’s spending the night for tests and evaluation. Thanksgiving seems cursed as something happens every year. But she seemed better tonight. I hope that direction continues. (She came home November 27 and has been strong and doing well since.)
Hope y’all had a great Thanksgiving. Ours was great. Carl cooked the entire meal and brought it over. Delish–and a wonderful surprise. I have the best friends in the world.
Mom remembers her dad going for supplies by horse and buckboard wagon to Watson UT when she was a kid. It’s now a ghost town.
My fantasy of buying a small smart TV lasted all of 24 hours before I got real. Too much other important stuff to spend the money on and we don’t need fripperies. Got caught up in Black Friday madness without even shopping. But sometimes being a responsible grown up sucks. 🙂
The loneliness of the long distance carer. May I just add, **** you Amy F. Grant and Katie F. Couric, and anyone else who talks about the “privilege” without understanding the facts of working class people having to deal with this.
RIP Willis Ware, brilliant engineer and lovely, lovely man.
The resolution to a plot point that has been hanging unsolved for years finally came to me in the shower this morning. Unfortunately, I was in the shower, couldn’t write it down, and I was so busy after the shower I forgot, and now I can’t remember what it was or even which novel.
RIP Irreplaceable Nelson Mandela.
I put on an episode of Finding Bigfoot last night. Mom fell asleep just after it started and woke just as it finished.
Mom: What happened?
Me: They didn’t find him.
Mom: Oh, okay then.
I keep buying books I haven’t got time to read.
And after two years of living as if this is a temporary situation it’s finally setting in that this is probably a long haul. I’m okay with that, but it’s a necessary shift in perspective that may allow me to handle things better.
“It’s not the Calvary coming to save us, ” said the sportscaster. Which is a whole different save than Kobe returning to the Lakers.
I read so slowly these days that I can go from comfort read to comfort read. No more waiting for release days. *sigh*
People and ghosts in rooms talking. *sigh*
Hurray for heated mattress pads!! My poor mom has been freezing, but she’s snug now. 🙂
Is the big reveal ever worth playing the reader? Does that answer ever have a yes? Why is there air?
And now for something completely different… The Marmoset Song: http://youtu.be/4oiLfTnrC40
When Mom gets really down she threatens to stop dialysis and I have to josh her out of it. Today would be one of those days.
I love it when people driving Smart cars make a really big dick traffic maneuvers. I originally said “really idiotic traffic maneuvers” but VRS decided to go with big dick and I left it that way.
Dear Sir: Most sentences should not be a paragraph long. Less is more. A tortured use of punctuation does not remedy this problem.
RIP to the great Peter O’ Toole.
Sears finally kept their promise. They’ve sent me a check to cover my plumbing costs for the Abominable Dishwasher Incident. Thanks, Sears.
Thu 5 Dec 2013
Lea Salonga, who sang the part of the princess in Aladdin, was in a piano bar in NYC when the crowd started singing “A Whole New World.”
Mon 2 Dec 2013
She laid it all out on the stage each and every time. Happy birthday, bella.
Thu 7 Nov 2013
But hilarious, nonetheless.
Wed 15 May 2013
In conjunction with my latest Observations post:
Wed 15 May 2013
Posted by PJ under 4th avenue, a rain of angels, anger, caregiving, carmina, conspiracies, crone, food, mom, money, mysteries, novels, observations, plumbing, poetry, process, venus in transit, writing, youtube
All I can legitimately talk about is my own process—in whatever. It’s presumptuous to assume everyone’s process will be the same. However, talking too much about one’s own process is talking too much about one’s self, so it’s something of a No-Win.
Conspiracy theory is just another form of denial.
I just realized I forgot to take the poem out of my pocket from Poem In My Pocket Day. But at least it’s in “my other pants.” 🙂
In May it’ll be two years since I last worked on my last novel. I’d say where did the time go but I know: down the whirlpool of caregiving. I was born to take care of people, apparently. My life has no other meaning. There’s just no time for anything else. I can’t help feeling much of the time as if my life, everything I valued about my life, is over. I’m so tired most weeks I wonder if I’ll make it through to the other side. There are good days, but most days I just grind it out as best I can. Some days, it just piles up. But I’m still moving.
And being free of caregiving means someone I love is gone. There’s no happy ending, as my friend Lisa says.
There are millions of people out there just like me. Caregiving is the unrecognized and unacknowledged crisis in this country
My friends tell me my creativity will come back, that everything is cyclical, and I believe them, but it’s sometimes hard to see that from here. I keep trying. “I’ll just read a chapter a day, or part of a chapter.” But something always happens. And writing from scratch? Unthinkable at this point.
Okay, enough of the self-pity party. I took the time to reread the first chapter of that last novel and tweak it. Holds up well.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
Jacob’s Dream was playing in the cafeteria so I just had to tell everyone about the Lost Children of the Alleghenies: http://bit.ly/ZPZC4t Everyone was properly riveted and scads went to You Tube and the links I provided.
Back at the ER this morning. Mom got an IV of antibiotics. Now we’re waiting to see if we can go home.
Even in stressful times there are compensations in this world: hearing David Sedaris sing the Oscar Meyer bologna song as Billie Holliday. Laughed so hard I cried. The guy in the car next to me looked concerned, like I might be having a fit. I was. The good kind.
So my printer and my dishwasher went belly up the same night. I’m sure there’s a pattern there but I’m too tired to figure it out.
Leaving Mom on mornings when she’s not doing well are heartbreaking but if I didn’t leave on those mornings I would have long since lost my job.
I find it absolutely hilarious that Hitler was a vegetarian. Even funnier? The ardent vegetarians that try to backpedal that fact. I know many fine human beings who are vegetarians but there’s a vocal minority that do seem to have something in common with Nazis.
“Dammit I’m mad” spelled backwards is “Dammit I’m mad.”
I guess the house is officially mine. I’ve just had my first plumbing disaster. This time it was the 50 gallon water heater that went belly up.
John Hancock Life Insurance is dicking around about paying me the money they owe me. I guess that’s why they have cock in their name.
It’s a morning for people saying stupid ass stuff and I am not in the mood to be nice about it. That tenderness of a few days ago is still there but having a harder time swimming up from the cesspool. That’s in the nature of this process, though. If you don’t like the mood you’re in wait an hour and it may change.
Now I know what was wrong with the opening of that novel: I put a gun on the mantelpiece and never used it again (figuratively). How many years did it take me to figure that out? I really love that opening (and it works in so many other ways) so I’ll have to find a way of using that “gun.” Although I do seem to recall another writing truism about using that gun to murder your something-or-others…What was that again?
My old, beloved neighborhood that I grew up in, has become the Shrine of the Unknown Hipster. You may have heard of it: Silicon Beach? I literally grew up on 4th Avenue near Rose, the very heart of Hipsterville now. I way preferred it when it was the ghetto: funky, beloved ol’ Venice.
You don’t get to be a crone just by getting older. There’s a experiential component to it. And man, is that a bitch. Which is also a separate thing from being a crone.
I’ve just come up with the last line for my novel, Carmina. I guess it’s a real story now.
Well, at least I made it down to the final 800 submissions. :-/ Probably just as well. I don’t have time for a writing career right now.
John Hancock Life Insurance, the company that isn’t giving me ma money, mistakenly informed the state of California that Mom is deceased—but only on one of numerous policies they have in her name. The others are still in force. Also, they told us a few months back that no other policies existed. Now all of a sudden they’re breeding like rabbits. Do not use John Hancock EVER.
Social Medea is the name of my next band.
I’m halfway through chapter six on the read-and-clean final of that novel I didn’t touch for two years.