What happened last Christmas, a "final" chapter~~~

Hello again my sweet, yummy, luscious things.

I hope you have a nice cup of hot chocolate or coffee or maybe even good bourbon to drink, from the way things are going this is going to be a very long post.

First I want to say to Fram, now that would be a wonderful sight to see. Once in a great while a large hawk will swope low along the inland road going to the Oakland Airport, I know its a hawk, and near the historic high school I've seen falcons so close that you can count the feather markings, they have become so adapted to city living no one bothers them, because it's so wonderful to see such creatures, and near the hotel, there are tall old palm trees that owls make a nest in. It's rare to see them but several people have.

I said earlier today that my elderly neighbor, Lillian told me that I should finish, round out if you like, what happened after I left my Father’s house to go to college and then this last Christmas day, when I shook things up at his church.

For that I’m going to have to back track a bit; remember my Mother did a special act of rebellion when she took me to a Catholic Church, during the time that my Father was gone for a few days from the house.

I still can remember that place, the scent of incense, the music, and everyone joining in the prayers with feeling, every now and then a little child would mis-behave but the attitude was of quiet , a soft “shush, Jesus is here and he wants you to pray and say the mass” it seemed to focus the child, but if the child was too little, then either Mom or Dad would distract the child with a soft toy, or a book, or would take the child out into the entrance foyer, totally different from my Father’s church where you knew any infraction would result in standing up front of everyone and being made an example of a sinner, and the whole congregation would call out “shame, shame”.

Going to that Catholic Church was a revelation, completely different and it was my Mother’s one of only two acts of rebellion, when she put me to bed that night I told her that it felt different, and she said that she wanted me to see something other than Father’s church. But it was our special secret. Later she became pregnant with baby sis and after that there were no more acts of rebellion by her except one and of course the quiet knowledge of my planning my freedom and her not interfering.

I was grateful for Mrs. Smith and Miss Lambe, the few times my Father encountered them he discovered he met his match, women who were not afraid of him, were not intimidated by him, and as I got older in my late teens, I told Miss Lambe how I wanted to be free of my Father’s domination, I also told her about that one time going to the Catholic Church and what had happened.

She helped me improve my grades so I could qualify for scholarships for college and helped me apply for them.

Being in College wasn’t easy, the scholarships only went so far and I had to work part time, but I was use to doing without. I was lucky to be able to get a dorm room; I shared it with two girls, who, along with several others, became my close friends, Yoshi and Karen. If it wasn’t for them, and their support dealing with college, it would have been more difficult. It was hard dealing with the more privileged, moneyed students and their little ‘cliques’ or sororities, I never joined any, and although it helped you to join, one could “network” contacts that way, it made them appear in my eyes as ‘snobs’, and, when they had their drunken parties, idiotic snobs.

At the restaurant where I worked, sometimes these ‘sorority sisters would come in, make impossible demands for ridiculous things, even sending whole meals back, making it difficult for me to attend to other patrons, and then not tipping, one time one of them tripped me, fortunately I was not carrying any dish or glass ware, but in falling I painfully scraped my knees, I continued to work that night but with large band aids on my knees and walking to my dorm was painful. Janet one of my dorm mates was being asked to pledge to the sorority that would come into the restaurant, but when she saw what happened to me she had her doubts that it would be a good thing.

But I told her she should; her mother was alum of that sorority and would be disappointed if she didn’t become one of those sisters. Doing that was hard for her, because of our friendship, but I thought that once in there I would lose her, that never happened, and thanks to her friendship she helped Karen, Yoshi and myself and helped us get the connections we needed.

And for the other sorority sisters that tripped me? They were asked to not come back by the manager, who wrote a letter to the Dean, that little trick did cost them. What they didn’t know is that I had made a deal with the chef and the manager, any food that any customer didn’t want, instead of being tossed away, set it aside I would carton it and take it to my dorm mates, we ate very good.

In a letter that my Mother wrote me she told me that Father was furious that I had escaped him, but since I was of legal age there was nothing he could do, but not Mother, she was secretly glad. I wrote letters home to let my Mother know that I was fine. I wrote more often to Miss Lambe, and from time to time she would send me a care package. I thanked what ever powers there were for her help.

When I finally graduated and got my first job, I lived in a small apartment with Yoshi and Karen, we lived in that tiny place until we each had jobs that helped us afford our own places. But Yoshi went back to live with her Mother and Grandmother in China Town after her Father had died, it was better for them and even after she married, she and her husband continued to live there.

After living in the City for six months I saved enough money and went home to visit, I had written Mother what day I was coming, I also wrote to Miss Lambe, she called me and said she was so proud of me and insisted that I stay with her for the few days that I would be in town, which did save me money and I arrived at the bus station a day early so I could spend some time with Miss Lambe.

The next day I went to my parents house, my Father was at work, baby sis was glad to see me, Mother fluttered around me like a Mama bird, I asked if she got my letters, she said she did and read them but she didn’t save any, because the day my letter arrived telling Mother when I would be coming to visit, was one of the few times Father stayed home from work ill, such a rarity for him, but his fever was too high for him to work and Mother had to take him to the Doctor’s office for treatment. So Father stayed home for a few days.

Mother had gone shopping and baby sis was at school when the mail arrived with my letter, he read it, then when Mother came home he handed it to her, she read it and then Father asked where were the other letters, Mother knew that it was not wise to refuse so she got them. He read them slowly, sometimes twice, and then he destroyed every single one in front of Mother. She told me she cried when he did that, it was like he tried to destroy me, but he can’t you know my sweet things, he can’t and this last Christmas after so many years he discovered that he couldn’t destroy me.

It was back then that Mother gave me a slip of paper, it was the name of a lawyer, she said I was to see him about Grandma’s trust, Father and Grandfather had tried to break it, but couldn’t. Grandma had written a provision that if there was any attempt to break it then the trust would go to charities. Father then thought if I didn’t know about it then I would never claim it and even threaten Mother if she told, but Mother gave me the information, it was her second and last act of rebellion.

In thinking about that moment those years ago I realized that in the years that followed I saw her becoming more and more gray, more and more quiet, the spark that kept her going was fading and that now she is just marking time. What she had done is given me the financial wherewithal that became my financial foundation to always be able to maintain my independence.

When Father came home from the office he saw me and barely said anything, so I ignored him and simply answered baby sis’s questions, while Mother went into the kitchen to get dinner ready.

He sat in his over stuffed chair reading his paper, while baby sis and I talked; finally Father said to me “I guess you expect me to pay for your sister’s college education when she’s old enough?” I looked at him and said “If she keeps her grades up she can apply for scholarships and grant programs and work part time like I did, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to open that wallet and let the moths out and help her like you didn’t help me.”

I won’t go into the fight that followed but I did have a certain satisfaction of saying to him that I had now become the type of woman he was afraid of…One that was neither intimidated by him nor cowed by him. He made the mistake of saying to me “I’m your Father” to which I replied “Yes, to my ever lasting sorrow, you pitiful little man, you are my father only by biology but not by respect.” He stared at me then with a straight back, turned and left the room. Mother pleaded with me to leave, for her sake I did, but just as I left I gave her Miss Lambe’s address and phone number and told Mother she could always contact me through her.

It was 2 years before Mother asked me to come back to the house (I can never really call it home) for the first of many strained annual Christmas dinners. Things have never been warm between Father and I, they never will be but I do it for Mother and baby sis’s sake.

Miss Lambe is still alive and at the Library as a volunteer where she still does the Saturday afternoon story times, I count her as my friend, mentor and surrogate Aunt, I never hesitated to write to her or call her. And with e-mail, questions and replies are quicker than snail mail; she helped guide me as I matured, just as Mrs. Smith helped with the initial breakthroughs to create the desire to learn.

But now going back to this last Christmas it seemed to culminate the relationship between Father and myself, perhaps shifted it to a different level.

I had groaned at the thought of going back there for another Christmas dinner, for the last few years Father tolerated me staying under his roof for the few days I visited, one of the few shifts in things. It was better in a way, it seems that for the next week or so before and after Christmas the members of the church were going to go every evening, and I realized that each night, the sermons were ones repeated from years before, only updated, but looking around I saw that many of the members were listening as if they were hearing it for the first time. None so blind and those who refuse to see.

On Christmas Day I had dressed carefully and deliberately, Father’s church was having a late afternoon service instead of a morning one, I discovered that the church was having a late communal breakfast and Father had to be there, with Mother; baby sis and I would come later for services, as we were preparing dinner.

So we had our own bite to eat, free of Father’s thunderous glances, and when baby sis saw what I was wearing she said “You are going to make a lot of people unhappy” and I smiled at her saying that it was my intension.

We sat through a long sermon in which the ‘minister’ was going on and on and on about the evils of the world, that there was no redemption to be found and we were going to be swallowed up in hellfire, not one word about the promise given to us in the guise of an innocent baby, and not one word about God’s love. We were bad, we were evil, we were every abomination that one could think of, and it went on sooooo long that I thought that splinters were seeking themselves into my posterior side.

I found myself becoming angry at the ‘minister’s tirade, but I knew that there was only one time where I could speak and I waited.

There is a moment in the service where those who feel they may have ‘sinned’ should stand up and ask forgiveness from the congregation and be prayed for. Almost everyone stood up and confessed their ‘evil deeds’ even baby sis at Father’s insistence for some meaningless infraction.

When the minister asked “Are there any others?” I had the pleasure of standing up, which shocked everyone, and made this statement, (I thank baby sis for having made a transcription of the tape recording of the services) ----

“The only thing I’ve done is to break away from this repressive church and discover the freedom that a warm and loving God offers’ I’ve come here not as ‘Jezebel’ but as ‘Judith’ welding her sword against ignorance and bigotry as preached to this congregation.

God is loving and forgiving, he gives us the free will to make choices and to enjoy life, to live our lives in loving moderation, but in doing so we must give back and help those, no matter who they are, who are less fortunate than us, in their time of need.

Without preaching, without forcing our beliefs upon them.

Not being with God is not hellfire and damnation or self flagellation but being separated from his love, which he never withholds from us, for it is always there, but it is us who withhold our love from him, we who think we are sinful and unworthy to receive his love and his blessing.

By not praising ourselves or seeking praise but simply doing the greatest commandment that God has given us that makes us worthy of his love even down to the smallest of kindnesses.

It is said in the bible “to make a joyful noise” to welcome Him into your heart but you do not do this, even when God gives us the lilies in the field and the songs of birds for us to hear, see and enjoy, yet you deny his gifts.

In your seeking your god you do as the publican did in the temple, by saying “I’ve given this up for you and suffered this for you’ you are only glorifying yourselves, not god, you should be like the Tax Collector who does his duty and tries to do it well but does not know if he is worthy of God’s grace and only asks for forgiveness for his weaknesses and God finds him, with all his imperfections and honesty, to be perfect.

It is said in the Book of Judith “How can you expect to search out God and comprehend his thoughts?” You cannot except to understand, not literally but through the heart that there is only one law, only one commandment, the greatest of all and that is “To Love One Another”, and yet, here, in THIS church, love is considered a sin.

I pity all of you.”

I sat down, my back straight against the unyielding bench and stared straight ahead as I felt every pair of eyes on me. I expected the ‘minister’ to make some remark condemning me to hell, but instead there was only silence, until he cleared his throat and asked the congregation to turn to a particular page to do the final reading, then the services were closed.

Father couldn’t look at me. As we left the church I heard some of the older parishioners say they would pray for him to have the strength to carry his burden.

Did I mean to publicly humiliate him? Not only him but everyone in that church, I had had enough, after all these years, after hearing that ‘preacher’s" sermon of damnation on Christmas Day I finally had enough. Baby sis’s so-called boy friend was not there to see this; he came to the house later for dinner and no mention was made of it to him.

When we got home Mother quietly asked me to change into something less bright, for her sake I did and helped her put dinner on the table.

One of the few things that did surprise me was Father allowing us to have a little ‘fun’ by putting together a large puzzle after dinner was cleared away, but since it was a puzzle of one of Thomas Kinkades paintings it was considered not ‘sinful’ in Father’s eyes.

The day after Christmas, I had made plans to go and see Ms. Lambe for a few hours, when I returned Mother and baby sis were not home but Father was. He called out my name from the living room when he heard the front door close.

I went in expecting him to breathe hellfire upon me, if he did I was prepared to leave immediately, but instead he said to me “You spoke very well, my late Father would have been surprised that a serpent such as you could use words so eloquently.” I looked at him and said “Thank you for the complement, it was meant to shake everyone up, I won’t apologize if it humiliated you because I think you enjoy the sadistic pleasure of it.”

I turned to go upstairs when he said in a stronger voice “Woman stop!” I turned back to him and he continued “I am your Father, you SHOULD respect me!”

I replied “Some years ago I said that you are my biological father; that I can never deny, but respect is earned through love and gentle firmness in discipline that a child knows is meant with love.

I acknowledge that you clothed me, but in second hand clothes, you fed me although miserly, you sheltered me, although with little comfort, you sought medical aid for me and sent me to school only because you could not be humiliated by being arrested for child neglect and were warned by your Father that it was in the church’s best interest to avoid having the law come into this house and only through that fear did you do it.

Not once did you comfort me, praise me, encourage me, even hug me. For that you only earn my contempt. If you want me to leave this house now I will. But if you do anything to endanger Mother’s health, if you harm her or my sister, if you try to force my sister into a loveless marriage, then I will take steps to free them from you and take on the burden of their care and you can remain in this cold, empty house with your idea of god.”

We stood there looking at each other, I could feel the air between us vibrating, I realized it was a test of wills and I was not going to back down, I already had in place what my next steps were if he should tell me to leave but that did not happen, instead I could feel the tension deflate, then he turned and said in a almost conversational voice “Your Mother and Sister have gone shopping for some things, they should be back in an hour.” And he went back, sat in his chair and took up his newspaper.

I went upstairs and changed clothes playing that scene over and over in my mind, who won? Were there any winners or was it a truce? That evening after dinner Father left to go to his church’s bible class most likely to receive more sympathy from fellow members all saying words of ‘comfort’ to him.

Now alone for a few hours Mother, baby sis and I sat in the living room and I told them what had happened earlier, Mother said that was not like him at all to back down from that kind of confrontation, and left the room to make us some tea. Baby sis said that what I said the other day at church was very brave, and she told me that some, but not all, felt the same way I did, and that it was harder and harder for the ‘minister’ to keep the younger members involved with that church, and even worse, some had left.

She, Mother and I talked about how things have changed in the world, the new technology, the greater acceptance of many things, baby sis said that she thought it was wonderful that I stood up to Father and what I told him. I made her promise to never bring it up to Father ever again.

Then I took a good hard look at everything in the living room, nothing had ever changed, with the exception of re-covering some pieces of furniture and always fixing the refrigerator, the only thing replaced was the washing machine and even that was the simplest model, the place was ‘frozen in time’ and Mother always dressing the same way, she sewed her own clothes but it was always from the same patterns, she had remained frozen in time as well, except for getting older.

I finally asked Mother where did the furniture come from, and she told me that the house had belonged to Father’s Grandparents and when they died Father inherited the house and everything in it before he married Mother, it had always been there, the only things added were a few pieces of furniture that was from his Father’s house before it was sold.

I gained a certain insight to this man who either hated or was afraid of change and new technology, the only new thing was a push button phone in his den where he paid the bills, the one in the living room was still a dial up phone.

I thought of something one of my friends told me, just a few months before her Grandmother had died they had gathered at her Grandmother’s house to watch man walk on the Moon. When she helped put her grandmother to bed, her Grandmother remarked that as a young girl she saw Hailey’s comet come out of the sky, so bright it was that it could even be seen in daylight, then she talked about all the other changes that happened over the years, man flying, several world wars, advances in medicine of illnesses that had killed some members of the family now easily cured, and now man has walked on the moon. Her Grandmother sighed and said “I think that is enough for one lifetime.” 4 months later her Grandmother died. She had seen enough in her lifetime.

I thought of all the sudden advances in technology that had happened in the last few years, is this what my Father is afraid of? That technology is causing him to lose control? Has changed all that was familiar with him, until he felt so lost and isolated?
Or was it ingrained into him by his own Father and Grandfather’s fears, passed down like a defective gene into the very cellular memory of the body, that he had to inflict it on his wife and children as well, but by a quirk of fate we see things differently and accept the changes as a part of life.

Had what I done awakened something in him or had it broken him, these thoughts ran through my head as baby sis talked about her plans to complete college. Then Father came home, Mother of course went to him to help him take off his overcoat, and he sat in his chair, I chose to say nothing, but baby sis asked him how was bible class, and he said that some of the members wanted to talk about the destruction of Sodom and Gomorra so that was discussed in class. When I stood up to take my cup into the kitchen he asked me when I planned to leave and I told him the day after next, I wanted to avoid any New Year’s Day traffic, he only nodded. When I left to come back home to the Bay Area, he had gone to work and never said a word to me at breakfast, which was fine with me. I said my goodbye’s to Mother and baby sis, I had called Ms. Lambe and said I would e-mail her when I got home.

The drive home was uneventful, and once in my own home, I e-mailed Ms. Lambe and then slept for 14 hours. And what has happened since then? Mother now writes me once a week, with extra notes from baby sis, and I write back to her at the house, she says that she doesn’t hide the letters that she writes to me any more, and when the letters from me arrive she reads them and even Father asks if I have written and he reads them, but he makes no comments on the contents of my letters he just hands them back to her, he makes no effort to tear them up.

But Mother says that except for that everything with Father is much the same, the congregation at church is the same, but I think something may have changed, maybe I have him thinking. I know I am.

I don’t think that there can be any amends between us, the gulf between us is too wide, the wounds too deep, although I’ve done my best to heal those within me, as I said I don’t hate him, I only have contempt for him, and pity, he’s older now, and all that was familiar to him is really gone, he has lived a joyless life created by his Father and his Father before him. It’s moments like this that I think what would have happened if it had been different, the road not taken, the path not explored. Perhaps that is why I enjoy seeing the camadrie between elderly couples that have lived together for a long time in love still. The road never taken out of fear.

It’s late, the lights of S.F. twinkle faintly, and there are night clouds that attempt to shroud the city, no stars in the sky, and rain threatens again, earth’s tears. And so to bed my sweet things, to bed, and let the cares of the day float away on pillows of dreams.

Walking along Blogging Lane, back from a mini-vacation~~~

Well sweet things, it’s so nice to see you again on Blogging Lane, especially a certain sweet, yummy thing. Mmmmmm

I’ve been busy as usual with work and things, but not as intense as last week, I even had a chance to take in a mini-vacation. They didn’t expect me or some of my colleges to get back until today, it seems that some of them had tickets to the Super Bowl and were doing their usual male testosterone Hoo Rahs.

Which reminded me that my neighbors, although nice people, tend to have very noisy boisterous parties, which starts long before game time and continues long after, and last year I had decided to spend a Day in the City, but it wasn’t long enough for me. ***pouting***

Last year they still were going at it when I got home, with a few extra guests courtesy of the local police department; no sweet things I didn’t call our local gendarmes, someone else did, but Mmmmm I do love seeing men in uniform. One of those luscious yummy things came over and asked if I had seen what had happen, I told him and we exchanged business cards. We still have dinner from time to time when his schedule permits, a nice little arrangement (Purrrr).

So this last weekend was cold and clear, I awoke early finding myself feeling restless, and knowing I had to make plans in regards to this Super Bowl Sunday. Getting up early is something I do when I’ve had a restful night’s sleep and I did have one, but on this morning I wanted to go somewhere and driving in the early morning hours just before the sun crests the skyline I find something sooo otherworldly about that hour.

I remember that towards evening just past sundown but before night descends there is a time that the French refer to as “L’Heure Bleue” or the Blue Hour, when the sky can be so Maxfield Parrish perfect, a perfect time for reflection. But this is that hour in reverse when the blue can give way to rose, pink and gold and awakens the mind in preparation for the day.

Not being sure what or where my restlessness would take me I tossed an overnight bag with several changes into the trunk of my car, just in case; called my girl friend to see if she could pickup my mail and newspapers (she could, the sweet thing, I owe her one), stopped long enough at a vendor making coffee which I partake of; coffee that early in the morning has a special aroma and taste, and takes the chill off, it makes me want to stretch and prowl (Merrowl).

Now I find I’m feeling very restless and no sweet things it’s not because of the caffeine; at first I turned my thoughts to San Francisco, returning to my car, I start up the engine but as I’m going over the Bay Bridge I suddenly decide to go to Santa Cruz, its early enough, I knew I could be there in over an hour, and popping in a CD I listened to Vivaldi’s 4 Seasons as my car ate up the road.

The only draw back is that I hate the drive up the mountains on Highway 17, people drive like maniacs on that road irregardless of the dangerousness of it. (Growl) So I decide to take Highway 9, the back door as some people call it. It’s a road you have to focus on with all its twists and turns, but I found myself enjoying the little trip, seeing the blue of the night fading as I’m traveling.

Slowly the sun crests’ into day, but there is a sort of foggy haze among the coastal redwoods on Highway 9, and on occasion I see deer near the roadside. I’m beginning to feel the pangs of hunger as I approach the Brookdale Lodge, just 5 miles north of Felton. I remember that they have a very nice little café and friendly wait staff, as if left over from the 1950’s where they still “dear and honey” you. Sooo very precious and relaxing. But I decided to only have toast and coffee just to cut the hunger.

I was told that the Lodge is now under new management and is upgrading things, I stayed there two years ago on what turned out to be the hottest, wildest, wackiest, wooonderful weekend of the entire year, and the use of that pool was a blessing. The dinner at the Lodge, fantastic! With a real brook running through it, how 1920’s!

Mmmmm recalling that memory at first I think I might stay there, but no I decide that I will go all the way to Santa Cruz.

As I’m pondering “where will I stay” and finishing my coffee, my eyes stray to an ad in the travelers’ magazine, what a quaint name “The Sea and Sand Inn”, Oooh how luscious! And how ridiculous, and yet it intrigued me, the location sounded good but if it didn’t please me there was always another hotel.

I cut through the town of Felton to connect to Highway 17 for the last leg of my journey, Hmmmm I remember they have some quiet amusements here that I’m going to have to check out when I want to get away from things and have my mind relax.

You know sweet things, it does pay to check to see what is in your own “backyard”, and I have no idea why people feel that they haven’t taken a vacation unless they’ve traveled to Paris or Istanbul or Cabo San Lucas, unless you have to take the “kids” to Disneyworld.

There is nothing wrong with that, but in these economic times why spend money over seas when there are some wonderful places to see here and there are tons of them, beautiful, relaxing, funny, strange, quaint, old-fashioned, child oriented, adult oriented, you have to look sweet things, it can be such a yummy bit of research. Unless one is in the ice-locked states, then a trip to Florida or Palm Springs just might do the trick.

I remember when I saw the grand, expansive beauty of the Grand Canyon, it took my breath away, Nature or God (take your pick) carving out its own majesty. (Think sweet things, the Grand Canyon Suite by Grofe for a musical interpretation) I remember hearing some children of the obnoxious ages of 10 and 12 saying to their Father, with awe in their voices “Dad, thank you for bringing us here, it’s like Wow!” Even I had a secret smile on my face at their reactions….remember it you young sweet things and keep it in your hearts.

The Inn did have a room available, I was very pleased with it, all the nice amenities, but the parking was a bit tight. Just a short walk from the beach, the wharf, dinning and not far from the old Boardwalk. Hmmmm It seems I can’t get away from “Harry Callahan”, if I remember right Clint Eastwood filmed one of the “Dirty Harry” films here. Hmmmm maybe I should have a framed photograph of him in my living room, he seems to be following me everywhere.

It seems there were not too many guests this weekend so a drop-in guest such a Moi was very welcomed. The place is right out of the 1950’s but with some modern upgrades, I had a nice spa in my room and the baloney had an ocean view. The only drawback is that I couldn’t check in until after 3 p.m., the policy with most hotels but for security they locked up my bag and laptop.

While making arrangements I made the acquaintance of an elderly couple Mr. & Mrs. G… who were visiting their Grandson and his friends. Their Grandson attends the nearby University and they were in the same situation as I, having just arrived. As we had a few hours to “kill’ they invited me, a stranger, with them to meet their grandson and his friends at Gilda’s for breakfast, on the wharf.

Oh sweet things, I do love the Wharf, all that tangy salt air, early morning fishermen, fresh fish, the smells that can get your stomach to demand food. The downside is you have to watch for fish innards and scales, but that is part of the ‘charm’, earthy and real; the other downside is that they have these shops which cater to tourists with all their ‘kitschy’ things to clutter up one’s home. But they have to bring in an income to keep it running.

Taking a table, waiting for their Grandson and drinking coffee, Mr. & Mrs. G were telling me about their memories of Santa Cruz, they honeymooned there many years ago, pointing out to me all the changes, some for the better and some they felt, for the worst. I love old things and I had to agree with them in part but I said to them “Isn’t it better to try and preserve something, but bring into it something that the young people will be attracted to, to create interest so it can continue to exist?” They had to agree, time stops for no one.

Mr. G said a quote to me, about “the moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Not all thy piety nor all thy wit can cancel half a line of it” (Omar Khayyam), it felt a little sad to me, especially when I looked at them in this honest morning light, in their early 70’s, time fleeing by, but still with a certain gusto for life.

Mrs. G said when she was young she couldn’t understand why the “old timers” didn’t like things to change, “now we are the old timers and we find that we hate change”, not change in attitudes like equality and liberty, a lot of that is for the better, but familiar things that by their familiarity is comforting when struck by tragedy, a compass point of steadiness in a fast moving world that they are afraid of being destroyed.

That idea struck me at being so true, the idea of a “compass point of steadiness”, but lose that and what could happen? Depression, desolation, loss, fear, even terror, a general sense of giving up? I found it food for thought to ponder on further, and what was my compass point?

Just then their grandson Joe showed up with his friend Dan. Since I was a guest, the conversation revolved around Mr. and Mrs. G catching up with their Grandson’s life; every now and then I would ask questions about the classes he was taking and his career goals. I offered him and his friend Dan, my business cards since they were going for the same degree; I felt that it would be a good thing to help network them.

I made some suggestions to them as to how they could go about looking for jobs, and that I would be happy to help them with some leads but that for them to get the job it had to be on their merit, I did recommend that they continue with school but see if they could take on internship programs where they could learn and still go to school. It would look good on their resume. They agreed that right now it would be best to stay in school and do internships’, getting experience and using that to network.

I felt that they were ‘hungry’, they had a ‘fire’ in them, they said seeing how the economy was going they want to learn from the mistakes, and get a better idea on people’s thinking. Hmmmmm I thought these luscious young men would bear watching and we exchanged e-mail addresses, even if I’m further up the ladder than they it always pays to network, who knows where it may lead.

After breakfast they all got into their car to go some place else that was on their plans and I thanked them for such a wonderful morning.

Oh sweet things I had soooo much fun, I checked out the Wharf and the Boardwalk, only a few of the rides were running which was fine given the time of year and the Casino was open; I had fun at the arcade games, I gave my tickets to two little sisters who were just short of winning a particular prize they wanted and I had enough to help them get it, they hugged me, Hmmm simple random acts of kindness.

I checked out the Miniature Golf in the Neptune Plunge, and even rode the Carousel, no matter what age you are when you’re near a Carousel you can become, for a short while a child again, to grab that brass ring and toss it into the Clown’s mouth.

In the evening I sat back and relaxed in my spa drinking my glass of wine from a small sample bottle that I bought and watched the night ocean, it was such a fun day that I found myself just stretching like a satisfied cat. Merowl.

I spent Sunday going through town and found some very interesting and creative shops, and made notes of places that I would like to go back and see at another time. Later I walked along the Boardwalk and the Wharf just taking in the place at my own pace, the exercise did me good. Mmmmmm it felt good, the fresh crisp salt air, hearing and seeing the ocean waves, it was so relaxing.

I wasn’t planning on leaving until Monday morning but after the worse of the commute rush, and then checking in at the office to see if any ‘disasters’ had happen.

Mr. and Mrs. G and I had breakfast together Monday morning at Gilda’s and we talked further about our interests. I was happy to discover that they were members of the Single Action Shooting Society, Ohhh that was so sweet and yummy to discover that.

It seems that Mr. G favors the Ruger Vaqueros and saves his Colts as back up guns, he stays with .38 cal but has to use cowboy loads that have a lower grain count, shooting at metal targets it would be very bad to have anything ricochet, thus the lower loads. We talked about upcoming gun shows, so there is a possibility we might meet again, we exchanged addresses and e-mails, and they said they would let me know about upcoming meets. We had a wonderful time, Hmmmm I would say it was so serendipitous.

There is something that I constantly discover….going some place is always a discovery, and up to a point coming home is fine… until you reach a certain area of familiarity on the road and then all the old tensions come back, the dream is over and reality begins, pooh!

There are times I wish I could just jump into my car and drive, drive, drive, seeing where the road takes me, finding what I can around the next turn, some people when they retire decide to live in an R.V. but I don’t want all that responsibility…no matter what it’s still repairs and insurances that you have to drag around. To be so unencumbered seems to be a free way to live.

But you still have to come back to some sort of nest to do doctor and dental appointments, having the car maintained, doing taxes, and it takes money, you can’t carry all that money with you, so you have to use a debit card and you need to maintain a certain balance within it.

Oh Growl!!! Sometimes I feel like I’m caged up! Constantly pacing the same 4 walls!
There are times when I feel I could claw things to shreds!!!!

“Be happy in your work” my father would say…not if you feel like you have a choke collar on you! (Snarl)

Hmmmmm I think I’m going to have to find a way to balance all of this out.

I’ve been having fun looking at the news reports, Louis Uchitelle’s column in the New York Times Jan 31 caught my eye; I found it interesting in regards to the Economic situation. I devoured the Saturday business section; everything is going to need to be watched very carefully we are a long, long way to even start getting out of the woods and things are still tumbling down. Macy’s, another one to “bite the dust”.

I find it interesting that the GOP elected Michael Steele as the new party chairman, an African American. Is the GOP trying to put a new face to their party Hmmmmm? Are they going to prime him up for the next election? An Obama clone?

And now some utility companies in California are putting smiley faces on their bills if their customers are good about conserving--- (Snarl) Grow UP!! We are not infants!! What a waste of money to add to the bill printing system.

And that woman having 8 babies! 8 of them!!! And she already has 6 and all by in vitro fertilization, not married, living with her parents, Ohhh sweet things you know that this is going to be a welfare Mom and all because she “likes” having babies.

I thought that one of the reasons women got the vote and finally a bill for equal pay for equal work was to be emancipated from being baby machines and this one wants to be one??!! (Snarl) This is one mentally ill woman, and yes, there should be some sort of ethics about this, this is too extreme, just watch my sweet things some new legislation is going to come about because of this.

I don’t mean the one child policy that China has, which is upsetting their racial balance, all things in moderation. 14 children! 14 Children!!! And no father in sight! Well if one thinks in terms of 2 children per family that takes care of 7 families. And this woman has a public relations manager and is being offered book and television deals???!!!----what she needs is a psychiatrist!!!!! (Rowl!!! Snarl!!!)

And in Japan the government is pleading with their people to have children, while in Africa children are dying from wars and starvation. In Europe they are worried about the Christian population being out numbered by the Muslim population. Well sweet things you better get started and be baby machines! (Growl, Roar!)

I for one will not! I think it’s because I don’t have a maternal bone in my body and I admit it!

Ohhh darlings I’d never harm a child and I would never put one in danger, but I do not feel the urge to be a mother. And I am not alone.

Maybe it’s because when I was young I had to take care of baby sis. Changing diapers, feeding, bathing and burping her, washing her diapers and they were cloth diapers too and no diaper service, Oh I won’t go into that, it would put anyone off.

I had to do it because Mother was “always sick” as my Father would say, he didn’t find all the bottles that I did. Then Mother was gone for three months, and it was during the summer too, could I go out and have fun? Would Dad allow someone to come in and help me? Give me a few hours of freedom?? No, someone had to watch baby sis while Daddy was at work and Mother was at the hospital drying out, and as Daddy said I had to learn responsibility---Oh Dad that was a lesson learned very well!

It did get a little better when Mother came back and starting to take care of things, but she wasn’t the same as before, poor thing, she hardly spoke and never went against Dad, behaving just like a whipped dog and they say their marriage is a partnership---In whose eyes?

I still was restricted, only at the Library could I be free at least in my mind, I’d do my homework which I brought home and Father would check it and made me do it over, even when I had the right answers, and it wasn’t because it was messy, I had messiness disciplined out of me. No, he was afraid of any free thoughts my mind might conjure up or any thoughts of freedom; Dad, you never knew how I had carefully planned my escape, that is why you still regard me as the “black sheep” but frankly…Mmmmmm I look good in black.

No sweet things no children for me, I feel that it takes a very special person to willingly give up their personal life to have and raise children and I admit I’m too selfish. I don’t feel the need to listen to my ‘biological clock’.

But I do understand the Grandparent thing, we have several women here, who within months of each other became Grandmothers, it was nice seeing them all happy, and with pictures of their little grandbabies. They even ask me if I plan to get married and have children and I said “No, there are not enough Aunties in the world and children need Aunties who are career women to get an idea of the other side of life. Besides, Aunties are one’s you call on in an emergency; we are the aids to the Super moms.”

Were they shocked? No sweet things, they agreed, Aunties are important.

Hmmmmmm now this has been a very long post. I’ll have to save my opinions on other things for another time.

For now I’ll comfortably curl up on my couch in my red satin pajama’s, listening to Frank Sinatra and putting together my list of other lovely, quaint places to go to when the restlessness is upon me and I need to feel the power of the car engine and thrum of the road.
Mmmmmmm Rowllllll.

Survivng Christmas with Toxic Parents

Hello you sweet young yummy things, you sweet young greedy yummy things.

The Holidays have been exciting and a bore at the same time, everyone predicting gloom and doom, well I could care less, you get into this mess, and you get out of it. You wanted your Home, your white picket fence with the rose bushes, the 2 or 3 car garages, the 2 kids with all their fancy toys and the dog.

I feel sorry for the dog; the dog has no say in it. I pity those dumb creatures; all they have is loyalty and love, single-mindedness to their human gods and are lost and confused when their gods throw them away. That is evil of the worst kind, the dogs have no protection, people do.

I think when I die as we all must do eventually, I’ll leave all my money to the Animal Shelter with the proviso that no animal be put to sleep but at least fostered out to some kind care. It will be plenty, you see I deal in greed, I know greed and I can manipulate greed to make money for me.

But Greed---Ha, Ha, all you greedy people, you want it all and are willing to go into debt for it and now the devil has come to demand your soul. Naughty, naughty. When you do that, then your soul is mine or at least to “the company store”.

Remember all you sweet things, old Tennessee Ernie Ford’s song “16 Tons” is very, very real---

“You load 16 Tons and what do you get, another day older and deeper in debt, Saint Peter don’t you call me ‘cause I can’t go, I owe my soul to the company store.”

Enough of all that gloating.

While everyone was hand-wringing and saying “Woe is Me” I’ve been having some fun. I went to the Dickens fair several times and had fun with the entertainment and bought some wickedly delicious clothing from Dark Garden, and several other clothing shops there.

I also attended the Art Deco Societies “Deco the Halls” 2 day antique event, found a fabulous painting all grays and silver and black with only a slight splash of red, it was a figure of a woman with dark hair reclining on a soft bed, she looked like she was waiting for her lover, but could care less if he showed up or not. I bought it and now have it hanging over my fire place.

I used my lunch hours to go to some pawn shops; I can get jewelry for cheap there.

Then after work but to avoid the crowds going home I went to the stores and expanded my wardrobe, amazing the bargains you can find when the economy goes into the tank.

I survived Christmas with my toxic parents, had to stay a day longer than I wanted to.

I can see why baby sis wants out, they are trying to pick a future husband for her, they are so in the dinosaur age, so she and I made plans for her escape she’s over 19 but because she’s working part time and was going to school, she was turning over most of her money to “Mom and Dad” on their insistence (make that black mail demands).

We made a deal and she signed a contract (with a drop of her blood for good measure),

She’s been busy on her own, checking out available jobs where I live, I told her I’d help her get set up but after that she’s on her own.

She’s changed a lot, become more like me, she said that if the “Folks” had not been pushing her to eventually marry this moronic geek with an I.Q. of Zero, (I unfortunately met him at Christmas Dinner) she would have continued to live with them until she could work full time and escape on her own.

I’m glad that she has been taking business courses, there’s a lot of jobs that she’s qualified for and she’s planning to continue school to get her degree, it’s just where is she going to live. I don’t want her cramping my style and she’s agreed that it would be better for her to not live with me any longer than necessary.

So a lot of the plans are in place and I’ll be freeing her from her bondage.

I wish I could describe my parent’s idea of Christmas, but you’d really have to live it to understand.

No decorations, no tree, and as kids no presents, we had to read the Old Testament passages for hours, until dinner was ready. Had to fast from Christmas Eve to dinner time Christmas day, we couldn’t go out and play with our school friends during the two weeks we had off from school. We never knew if we had Grandparents, when I did find out I discovered that our father’s parents were dead and from what I found out from the neighbors they weren’t nice to know, except for Grandma, she twisted everyone’s nose and had a trust fund set up for me, which the lawyer held until I finally could contact him. Unfortunately she died before baby sis was born otherwise baby sis would have been nicely set up as well.

My Mother’s Dad was dead but I did make contact with Grandmamma, a sweet old lady, and I discovered two aunts and an uncle that our Mother never told us about talk about personality differences, I’m going to see if they can help me with baby sis. My Father has kept Mother under his thumb for a long time, I hope the old dried up man dies before Mother does, she hardly says a word.

This Christmas was no better although Geek Boyfriend to be was having way too much fun reading the old testament, the church we went to was cold, the preacher even said it was cold for a reason, no decorations there either, no manger scene, a fire and brimstone sermon about how we are all going to hell, they stole the light out of Christmas, and driving home with the Parents with Dad complaining about how people were wasting money putting up Christmas lights.

Poor baby sis, she looked at me, I said “Yes, Papa it is a sin what they do wasting money like that” and keeping a straight face, it’s a good thing baby sis controlled herself. Yeah I have to free her.

Dinner was eaten in silence, and then Geek boyfriend, baby sis and I put together a huge puzzle, which if Geek boyfriend had quit saying bible quotes would have been more fun to do. But I had fun making double innuendos which went over his head, and him saying to baby sis why don’t she dress like me, all formal, he doesn’t realize I dress like that for a reason, I LIKE IT. And forget dessert that word doesn’t exist in this house hold.

I was glad to drive back and breathe free air, I have a Christmas tree, but it’s black with red Christmas balls on it and red lights, o.k. so it’s a bit Goth I love it. I originally bought it for a Halloween tree, and that was fun having it decorated with ghosts, witches, skulls and the red lights, so I left it up and just changed the ornaments.

So now I’m free and don’t have to go back to work until Monday, it was use the vacation time or lose it.

New Years was fun, we went to this dance on board an old aircraft carrier, big band music, and I dressed the way I always like to dress -- beautiful and expensive. But I didn’t want to drive back to my place, so I made plans to stay with a friend who was going but lived nearby; we took a taxi and met the rest of our friends there.

New Years Day, lovely, quiet, I even went to church, a different kind of church, all light and music and bringing in joy to the soul, it even felt warm; yeah it’s Catholic but Quell le differance (phonic French speak).

I called baby sis, she survived, said that she could come and visit me during her spring break, parents want her to take the train, planes are the devils invention they say, don’t tell me they’ve heard of the “Mile High Club”?

So that is when baby sis will make her break for freedom, she can pull it off, she said that she’s made arrangements to transfer her grades to the school that she’ll be going to here, and she’s going to see what jobs will be open to her, I agreed to pay for her initial tuition, she only has a year to go, I think we can stand each other for a while.

Mmmmm thinking about trains, trains are beautiful, all that power, totally unstoppable, there is a scene in the James Bond Movie “Golden Eye” where Xenia Onnatop says “we’re going to ram the train” or something like that, and she’s excited about it----Even I get excited about all that power.

I love riding trains, and there is a difference in the ride between being in a train that is pulled by a desile engine and one that is pulled by a steam engine. And a steam train is so “living, breathing” and iron monster fired by steam and fire, mmmmm I get all excited just thinking about it.

When ever I can I ride the Napa Wine Train, to be able to dine and see the scenery change that is luxury.

Hmmm I think I’m due for a train ride, I think I’ll make plans.
Until later my sweet things, think yummy thoughts