Monday, June 30, 2008

Mister Creepy




The Talented Mister Ripley
by Patricia Highsmith

Will be sleeping with the hallway lights on, and tonight, the dog can sleep on the bed.

"Highsmith's novels are peerlessly disturbing...bad dreams that keep us thrashing for the rest of the night." --The New Yorker

Quintessential sentences: "Oh, I can do a number of things--valeting, baby-sitting, accounting--I've got an unfortunate talent for figures. No matter how drunk I get, I can always tell when a waiter's cheating me on a bill. I can forge a signature, fly a helicopter, handle dice, impersonate practically anybody, cook--and do a one-man show in a nightclub in case the regular entertainer's sick."

Favorite Word: giggling

Everybody's A Comedian...




Home to Roost by Kay Ryan

The chickens
are circling and
blotting out the
day. The sun is
bright, but the
chickens are in
the way. Yes,
the sky is dark
with chickens,
dense with them.
They turn and
then they turn
again. These
are the chickens
you let loose
one at a time
and small—
various breeds.
Now they have
come home
to roost—all
the same kind
at the same speed.


Patience by Kay Ryan

Patience is
wider than one
once envisioned,
with ribbons
of rivers
and distant
ranges and
tasks undertaken
and finished
with modest
relish by
natives in their
native dress.
Who would
have guessed
it possible
that waiting
is sustainable—
a place with
its own harvests.
Or that in
time's fullness
the diamonds
of patience
couldn't be
distinguished
from the genuine
in brilliance
or hardness.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Joyeux Anniversaire!


Ce qui embellit le désert, dit le petit prince, c'est qu'il cache un puits quelque part...




("What makes the desert beautiful," says the little prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well." )












please note: quote and illustrations par Antoine de Saint-Exupery







This One's For You, San




A Blessing
by James Wright

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans.
They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.
please note: photo, Another Eye, by compassionateeye

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Now That Just Sucks


New York Times Op-Ed Section
Saturday, June 28, 2008




Your Brain Lies To You

Does this mean I don't remember meeting Peter Frampton at the Blind Lemon??
Not cool, man. Totally not cool.

Friday, June 27, 2008

My Grandmother's Ghost by James Wright





She skimmed the yellow water like a moth,
Trailing her feet across the shallow stream;
She saw the berries, paused and sampled them
Where a slight spider cleaned his narrow tooth.
Light in the air, she fluttered up the path,
So delicate to shun the leaves and damp,
Like some young wife, holding a slender lamp
To find her stray child, or the moon, or both.
Even before she reached the empty house,
She beat her wings ever so lightly, rose,
Followed a bee where apples blew like snow;
And then, forgetting what she wanted there,
Too full of blossom and green light to care,
She hurried to the ground, and slipped below.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Naming the Animals by Anthony Hecht



Having commanded Adam to bestow
Names upon all the creatures, God withdrew
To empyrean palaces of blue
That warm and windless morning long ago,
And seemed to take no notice of the vexed
Look on the young man's face as he took thought
Of all the miracles the Lord had wrought
Now to be labeled, dubbed, yclept, indexed.

Before an addled mind and puddle brow,
The feathered nation and the finny prey
Passed by; there went biped and quadruped.
Adam looked forth with bottomless dismay
Into the tragic eyes of his first cow,
And shyly ventured, "Thou shalt be called 'Fred.'"

Where's My Gold Watch??


Went to a Service Awards program this afternoon to recognize those with multiple years of contiuous employment with the hospital. 5, 10, 15 years, etc. 25 years here, not to mention the 4 years when I started in 1979 before I left and came back. Although my name was on the program and a photo of me hard at work was on the screen, no framed certificate with my name on it. No tie pin with the three blue glass gems. No gift certificate to Fancy-Schmancy store. Zip, nada, nothing. Some mix-up on their part. So sorry. Will get it to me. There's only six of us with 25 years of service there. How hard can it be to count the goodie bags??

A Remarkable Read (And Short Listed For The Man Booker Award--Does This Count For My Challenge?? I Smell A Yes.)


Mister Pip by LLoyd Jones
This book has left me speechless and returning to Chapter One to begin reading it again. It's a short little gem about a young girl growing up in the midst of a civil war on an under -developed tropical island. To give more than that...I wouldn't want to spoil the story for you.

"Lloyd Jone's spare, haunting fable explores the power and limitations of art."
--Washington Post Book World


Quintessential Sentence: "My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip."


Favorite Word: Pop Eye

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Who Murdered the Mountain Gorillas?



I'm listening to an interview on NPR's Fresh Air with Terri Gross about the execution of six mountain gorillas in the Congo last summer. It is very powerful and very interesting and will be the cover article for this month's National Geographic.

Please note, this is not for the squeamish. Millions of humans have been killed in this area as a result of the various conflicts. It has, however, been the death of these mountain gorillas(endangered. only 700 left) that has brought world wide attention to the area.



Going in for 4 more hours to pinch people after brain surgery. And they pay me for this...

Monday, June 23, 2008

Midsummer's Eve


If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding, but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck
If we have unearnéd luck,
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long:
Else the Puck a liar call.
So good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

To The Dean of Counter Culture




















Frisbeetarianism--the belief that when you die your soul soars up to the roof and gets stuck there.


I bet God is laughing so hard tonight his stomach hurts.

George, you will be missed.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Birthday Celebrations


My hubby's birthday has come and gone. "55 and staying alive." Sorry if the BeeGee's song rattles around in your head now. ("...stayin' alive, stayin' alive, ooh, hoo, hoo, hoo, stayin' alive, stayin' alive"). Just sharing the wealth with y'all.
We still have birthday pie here.

We are Pie People. You know, cake vs pie?? We would pick pie every time. I am no cake snob. I will eat cake, but I luuvvvv, luv, luv pie. We once had a pie we picked up from a roadside stand in Delaware that to this day has remained the Gold Standard of pies for us. A peach, raspberry, apricot pie. Perfection. What heaven should be like--homemade pie in a beach house in Bethany Beach in the summer.
Funny the things we take for granted:
cake vs pie
Fritos vs potato chips
salty foods vs sweets
diet pop vs the real thing.
Differences or similiarities in taste that truly bind us as soul mates and BFF's. For our family it's all about the pie. We will gladly let the rest of the world eat cake.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Summer's Solstice

The Layers by Stanley Kunitz

I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"Live in the layers,
not on the litter."
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.

Bad Jokes of the Day

1. Do you know why you shouldn't have sex with a bird?
You can get Chirpies and it's untweetable.





2. SHE: "If you can guess what's in my hand you can have sex with me."
HE: "I don't know...an elephant?"
SHE: "Close enough."


Rim shot on the drums, please.

There's Got To Be A Morning After...

I've spent the greater part of an hour reading through several of my favorite blogs and trying to respond in kind with morsels of witty, intelligent, and meaningful comments. Hard work.


It was a late night for me. College Girl came home last evening to see her StepDad and take him out for a birthday dinner. She stayed around to talk after I got home from work and we yakked on till midnight. She has work today and wanted to drive back last night to Kentucky, so I stayed awake till she texted me that she'd gotten back home safely-- by which time I was entrenched in watching Dead Man Walking with Sean Penn and Susan Saradon. That ended at 3:30am.

So now I'm awake with a foggy brain and a slow moving body trying to find my Things To Get Done Now list. There's a balmy breeze coming through the west bedroom window and "California Dreaming" drifting up from the park. Rather lovely, but I'm gonna need a lot more coffee to manage this day.



In all fairness, it was a really busy day at work yesterday what with trying to keep Patient A's ICP's (intracranial pressures) less than 30 and Patient B's heart rate greater than 30. I was running back and forth between the two rooms when I wasn't pulling, pushing, and tugging at limp bodies for the umpteenth CT scan, chest xray, stat EKG. And then this morning just when I started to feel the overwhelming futility of it all seep into my pores I read a post from CauseforConcern--http://utteroutrage.blogspot.com/-- and the Hubble telescope and I remembered.

It's all about the energy and keeping the love flowing around this great big ball of gases, or keeping the gases flowing around this great big ball of love.

I know, it's 6 minutes long and the music could be tweaked a bit, as in tweaked out, but it is truly awe inspiring to realize how much is out in the universe and the life and energy that must exist there, out beyond our vision. Makes our cultural divides and disagreements and wars seem very petty and my To Do list just a little bit more important. I shall go forth today and spread some love or gas, whichever comes first. Well... more coffee first. I'll take that IV and To Go, please.




Please note: art by Leigh-Erin Rudd, aka Lerin and You Tube reallocated from http://utteroutrage.blogspot.com/ CauseforConcern

Thursday, June 19, 2008

"Beautiful Dynamite**"




Fare thee well to one of the Great Broads and a true and perfect reason to watch musicals from the 40's and 50's. What a dancer...What a dame...


**quote by Fred Astaire

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Still Love This Blog Site

27 May, 2008

Overheard At Denny's At 3 AM
"I could be wrong, but there may or may not be a live turkey in here..."

OVERHEARD BY SHAHALA

San Antonio by Naomi Shahib Nye


Tonight I lingered over your name,
the delicate assembly of vowels
a voice inside my head.
You were sleeping when I arrived.
I stood by your bed
and watched the sheets rise gently.
I knew what slant of light
would make you turn over.
It was then I felt
the highways slide out of my hands.
I remembered the old men
in the west side café,
dealing dominoes like magical charms.
It was then I knew,
like a woman looking backward,
I could not leave you,
or find anyone I loved more

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Is It Just Me Or Are Superheroes Not Quite So Super Any More??






Again, I am begging you...wear the freakin' helmet!!

Be afwaid, be very afwaid...



Found this true-to-life gem at http://notrocketsci.blogspot.com/. Find this hilariously dead-on coming as someone who has worked forever at a teaching hospital. We really are that full of ourselves yet somehow able to retain a quirky and charming sense of humor about the grandiosity of our superiorness. Just basking in the love...


Monday, June 16, 2008

walking it off

Tonight after yet another 12 hours in Neuroramaville I took the dog for a walk and saw my first fireflies of the summer. I'm guessing they were out before, but I must have missed them while I was in Montana IN THE SNOWSTORM. Fireflies and a close to perfect full moon. It's so good to be home...

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Father's Day


Lots of children lose their fathers and my brother and I were no exception. First we lost him to work and his silences when he was home, then we lost him to the younger secretary at work, and finally lost him altogether to a new marriage and family. In with the new and out with the old. No cross contamination. However, since I am a product of the fifties there is still the desire to put a false front on the image, buy the perfect Hallmark card that will set things right. There will be no setting things right here, no sitcom ending for a foolish misunderstanding of words or deeds. We were the reminders of a failed family. Replaceable cogs in an inefficient milling machine. And the new wife had even less desire to keep mementos of past loves lurking about in her kitchen and dining room. Life is so much better when debris is swept clean and clear and fresh starts are all that loom on the horizon. There was no place for the arms of two children tugging at sleeves and holding on.

So today is Father's Day and Honey Haired Girl and I will drive to see my father, her grandfather, and we will make small talk and hand out cards and pretend that we are of some importance to him. Then we will get back in our car and drive home to cook up a little supper for the father in this home to whom we are important. The one who is requesting a grilled hamburger with bleu cheese and a cold beer when he gets off work this evening. I'm happy to make it for him. It's not always easy to be a father despite what we see on TV in 30 minute blundering increments and there isn't always a satisfying ending. I appreciate my husband more than bleu cheese and cold beer could say.

Shelter by Kim Addonizio


It's noisy here. The kids run around, screaming, their mothers slap them and they cry. I have the bottom bunk, I hang a blanket from the bed above me for privacy. In the middle of the night it's finally quiet. I lie awake and think about goals. Sheryl, the worker, says I need some. She says What do you want Rita? and I say peace and quiet, maybe someplace sunnier than here. I say I'd like to have a dog. A big one, a retriever or shepherd with long soft fur. What else? she says. I remember my dad's garden, how I used to like sitting with him while he weeded, putting my toes in the dirt. He grew tomatoes, corn, peas.There was a rosebush, too, once he let me pick a big rose and there was a spider in it, I got scared and shook it and the petals went all over me and he laughed.He showed me how to put my thumb over the hoze nozzle so it sprayed. Sheryl says I could garden. I think about the coleus Jimmy and I had, how I would take cuttings, put them in water and they'd grow more flowers. But then they all died. At night I listen to everybody sleep around me, some people snoring, some starting to say something and then stopping. It's pitch-dark behind the blanket. I try to see it sunny, a yard with a dog lying down under a tree. I try to smell warm tomatoes. Curl my toes in the sheets. Try to sleep.

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Back to the Future in CinCity






Or, depending on how you feel about humidity...












A Quiet Life by Baron Wormser

What a person desires in life
is a properly boiled egg.
This isn't as easy as it seems.
There must be gas and a stove,
the gas requires pipelines, mastodon drills,
banks that dispense the lozenge of capital.
There must be a pot, the product of mines
and furnaces and factories,
of dim early mornings and night-owl shifts,
of women in kerchiefs and men with
sweat-soaked hair.
Then water, the stuff of clouds and skies
and God knows what causes it to happen.
There seems always too much or too little
of it and more pipelines, meters, pumping
stations, towers, tanks.
And salt-a miracle of the first order,
the ace in any argument for God.
Only God could have imagined from
nothingness the pang of salt.
Political peace too. It should be quiet
when one eats an egg. No political hoodlums
knocking down doors, no lieutenants who are
ticked off at their scheming girlfriends and
take it out on you, no dictators
posing as tribunes.
It should be quiet, so quiet you can hear
the chicken, a creature usually mocked as a type
of fool, a cluck chained to the chore of her body.
Listen, she is there, pecking at a bit of grain
that came from nowhere.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Okay. Now Change Places.


Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict
by Laurie Viera Rigler
" A rich saucy lark of a book."
Quintessential sentence: "How could I have romanticized this world? A world where a woman's place, substandard as it is, hangs by a thread."
Favorite word: saucy, of course, closely followed by ill-fated.

Love and Murder Amid the Gods


The Savage Garden
by Mark Mills

"--a romantic and gracefully executed literary puzzle." The New York Times Book Review

Quintessential Sentence: "Things can make sense at the time, but as you get older those consolations no longer help you sleep...We all think we know the answer, and we're all wrong. Shit, I'm not even sure we even know what the question is."

Favorite Words: La Divina Commedia

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

End of the Road in Bozeman



It's almost our last day of vacation and we're getting ready to pack up the suitcases for the flight home. Drove 4 hours through rain and snow--crazy day in June for this girl from CinCity.
It's been a blast and a wild west adventure. This is a big, big country with room for all shapes of dreams.
Here's to more adventures for all of us...

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Hey, hey Boo-Boo...

We have spent the last seven days in Dillon, Montana tooling around the southwest corner of the state in a shiny red Mustang. Life cannot get any better than this.



Right now it's 9:30 pm in West Yellowstone and the sun is just about ready to go down. I don't
know what the temperature here is, but it's been lightly snowing off and on all day and there's a cold wind that's whipping through
the streets and alleys.

No moose, bison, or bears yet.
Saw "Bullwinkle's."
Didn't see Rocky.


Honey haired girl has bunches of photographs on her computer--internet has been hit-and-miss for us. Hoping she'll share if I feed her.





More days in Yellowstone National Park and a ranch in Wyoming, then back to CinCity to our lives there where we shall spend long periods of time untangling the lovely panoramic pictures floating around in our brains.