tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516235328429176842024-03-20T19:22:58.028-07:00Musings from Granny OwlGranny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.comBlogger227125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-791574006836082752024-03-06T17:44:00.000-08:002024-03-06T17:44:34.270-08:00A women's world<p>Last night I saw a photo of a cityscape at night, full of tall, tall buildings with spires reaching into the sky. It reminded me of a story I'd read about someone, either the architect or the owner, adding an antenna to the top of a new building so that this would be the tallest in the world by a couple of inches. And I thought "I don't think female architects would be so bent on a building having to be the tallest" - for the obvious reason.</p><p>That got me thinking about what else would be different if women were in charge of the world. I don't think there would be wars, for one thing. Women are the mothers of the sons (and now daughters) who fight the battles in a war, and I just don't think women would be so cavalier about sending their children out to face tanks and bazookas and bombs and such. I know all of this is a generalization, but it's founded in experience and science. Women simply aren't as aggressive as men because we're not run by testosterone. Women are more cooperative.</p><p>Sure we have our murderers and bitches. But so often the women who can be pointed to as making it in a man's world are women who act more like men, have adopted men's language, posture, and shows of strength. So it's still male energy running everything.</p><p>All of this is moot, of course, because women will never be running everything for the very reason I'm talking about; we just aren't subject to that kind of aggression. Maybe don't even want to run the world. Long ago when my grandfather asked me what I would do first if I were made Queen of the Universe, I replied immediately "Abdicate".</p><p>When I look at a war scene, at the tanks and cannons and drones and uniforms and rifles and dead bodies, I get terribly sad. It all seems so unnecessary. We all know already that we share this fragile, magnificent, miraculous planet and that we are made of exactly the same organs and blood and brains, despite the differences in language, history, skin color, customs. Why on this good green Earth can't we get along? But I guess if one country acts like a bully, other countries have to act like bigger bullies in order to win, which makes the bully act like a bigger bully which makes......</p><p>I once saw Jordan Klepper interview a MAGA follower at a Trump rally. When he asked if she would vote for a woman for President, she was quite firm that No no no, a woman might be emotional, might be on her period and start a war. So he asked "Haven't all wars so far been started by men?" It actually gave her pause, but of course I have no idea if that moment actually got her to think a little more deeply about the rhetoric she parrots.</p><p>I could be way off base in my assumptions about how much more peaceful the world will be if it were run by women, but since it will never happen, I guess I'll never know.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-25169450861366568042024-03-04T18:49:00.000-08:002024-03-04T18:49:16.736-08:00Double jackpot<p>One night recently Sweet Hubby and I saw red lights flashing on the street outside our house. We looked out the window to see the wife of the couple across the street being carried into an ambulance. (She's home again and doing all right, in case you're concerned, although she has a bad case of long COVID.)</p><p>Something like that always brings to mind the fact that one day SH and I will have to deal with one of us being carried away for good. Those thoughts make my heart clench up and my stomach drop in anticipation of how awful, how unbearable, how ghastly it's going to be to say good-bye to SH. I don't know how I could ever recover from the loss if I were the one left behind.</p><p>But for some reason, this night another thought came close on the heels of the "Oh no, oh no!" I remembered that I have, astoundingly, been loved every day of my entire life. First it was my mom, whose affection, support, and warmth could always, and I mean <i>always</i> be counted on. No matter how neglectful or dismissive or absent or cranky I was, she loved me unwaveringly and I knew it.</p><p>Since SH and I joined our lives almost 18 years ago, I have also been loved by him, every day, without fail, no matter what mood I'm in, whether my insecurities are rampant or I'm pouting about something or we've just had an argument. He loves me and he tells me so many times a day and shows it in a hundred ways. </p><p>I do realize that it is the loss of all that constant, faithful, dependable love that is going to be part of the heartache if SH dies before me. It certainly was true that when my sweet Mom died, it left a gaping hole in my world, but by then I had SH to lean on and be comforted by, so love was uninterrupted. If he dies first, I can only imagine with a shudder how bereft I will be. I hope I will still have my darling siblings, of course. We three love each other dearly. But they and I are busy with out own lives, and are a bit more judge-y in our shared love. It's wonderful, but it's just not the same.</p><p>So what I hope is that if (I say 'if' rather than 'when' because SH has promised I get to die first) that terrible day arrives that I lose my SH, I hope I remember to be grateful grateful grateful to have been loved so well, and will allow that remembrance to be a balm, to add some gratitude and sweetness to the bitter sorrow. Maybe remembering and cherishing those lifelong gifts of love will be what allows me to recover and continue to live my life. That's what I hope.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-57338206181252628412024-02-10T14:32:00.000-08:002024-02-10T14:32:36.162-08:00My youngold body<p>I'm pretty crabby these days. I've got shingles on my back. Shingles! And it's darned uncomfortable and painful. I'm usually a minimalist about medications, but I've been slugging down Tylenols as often as the directions allow. I've had the most recent vaccination so it's probably not as bad as it might have been otherwise; just a small patch about the size of a 50¢ piece, pink and red and blistery. But it has made my whole lower back ache and the skin around it feels tender and bruised. (Plus it doesn't help that I also seem to have injured my right shoulder, unrelated but also painful.) </p><p>What the hell??? Shingles? That's an old person's problem, and you have to understand, I'm only 37, lithe and strong and flexible and healthy, full of energy, a force of Nature.</p><p>I know that I'm 72, or at least my body is. I don't deny it, never lie about it, am not embarrassed by it, don't even mind it. I just don't feel it.</p><p>I wonder if everyone in the world is like me, being one age by the calendar and a different age in spirit. When something like this happens, something like shingles shows up to slow me down and slump my shoulders, there is a dissonance between how I think I ought to feel at the young, healthy age of my spirit and how I actually feel at my calendar age. It makes this old folks' condition seen like a mistake, an outrage, something I might have to deal with decades down the road, but not now, not yet. </p><p>Yet here I am, more aware than ever that I must expect health difficulties to show up now and then, and perhaps less then and increasingly now. Oh well, another day above ground, which offers the possibility of experiencing more of life. Including goddamn shingles. </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-35590757158319250962024-01-22T18:05:00.000-08:002024-01-22T18:05:14.171-08:00Going to hell and other miscellanea<p>"The country is going to hell," say Trump and his followers. "This administration is a disaster. The Democrats are ruining the country." They're right that the country is going to hell, but it's because of the ignorance and malice of the very people who are saying it is. If there are problems - and there certainly are - I'm not hearing any offer of any solution by the people who are complaining, angrily, threateningly, mindlessly, gleefully complaining</p><p>To anyone in the future who tells me she (or he) can't cook, I plan to reply, "Can you read?" Because that's all cooking is: following a recipe. Of course as one gains confidence and interest, a lot more is possible in the realm of cooking: baking! for instance. But even without confidence and interest, one can turn out a decent homecooked meal just by following a recipe. </p><p>Sweet Hubby and I had mac and cheese out of a box this afternoon (it had been part of a holiday gift box and I didn't want it to sit around forever). It was just awful. I guess it's possible to become used to that kind of food; lots of people no doubt have and are. But homecooked mac and cheese is like first class flight: once you've experienced it, it's hard to go back. I think the people who say, "I can't cook" really just don't want to. It is a lot of trouble, after all. Thinking of what to make, seeing if the ingredients are at hand; grocery shopping if they are not; putting the groceries away; the prep, usually comprised of chopping, mincing, boiling, saute-ing, stirring, etc; then the actual cooking itself, trying throughout the process to time the dishes so they are ready at somewhat the same moment. I'm almost talking myself into a box - of mac and cheese. <br />. </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-71834186228912063172024-01-09T11:29:00.000-08:002024-01-09T11:29:00.821-08:00Easy to be stupid<p> I was ordering lunch at a counter recently. I like to thank service folks by name, and when I looked at the name tag of the young woman helping me, wasn't sure how to pronounce Anahi. So I asked.</p><p>"Is it pronounced Anna-hee or Onna-hee?"</p><p>She replied, "Onna-ee, no h sound."</p><p>I rolled my eyes self-deprecatingly and said, "Americans", as in "We American are so hopeless around things that are foreign to us." But then I realized that just because she had an unusual name, olive skin, and a slight accent didn't mean she isn't American. So I sort of fumbled my way through an apology/explanation and slipped away.</p><p>In that moment, I realized how very easy it is to do or say something stupid, with no ill intent whatsoever. And lately, it feels as though it is easier than it has ever been to hurt someone's feelings, or to sound anti-this or phobic-that. Imagine the pressure on celebrities and politicians, whose every word and gesture are recorded and widely shared, to try to navigate the world of other people's feelings. (I'm not speaking, of course, about those politicians who are actually making a career out of insulting and debasing others.)</p><p>It also got me thinking: "For how long should someone be held accountable and punished for past mistakes?"</p><p>There's no one answer to that question, of course, because there are so many variables. How egregious was the mistake? Was it intended to be hurtful or was it just careless and stupid? Has the person matured beyond that behavior, even to the point of being chagrined about it?</p><p>When Brett Kavanaugh was grilled prior to being awarded his seat on the Supreme Court (I still haven't quite gotten over that he's one of the Supremes), it was clear he hadn't matured beyond his college bad boy behavior. He was flustered and defensive and acted victimized by the questions. So in my mind, he is still accountable for his past transgressions. He has not earned the pass of forgiveness.</p><p>The best examples I can think of of someone taking full responsibility for causing harm are, sadly, fictional, although I'm sure many real life examples abound. I'm thinking of an early episode of "The West Wing" in which Jed Bartlet, who is running for office, not yet President, is holding a town hall meeting with some disgruntled farmers. One of them calls him out for a decision he made which affected the farmer poorly. Bartlet takes a short moment to consider, then acknowledges "Yes, I hosed you with that one." In that moment, he immediately rises in the estimation of another character, Josh Lyman, who goes on to be his Deputy Chief of Staff.</p><p>And I guess that's the point. We so often act as though we are covering our asses when we refuse to admit mistakes, or try to defend them, when in truth we are so much more admirable to the world when we acknowledge them and especially when we do our best to atone in whatever way might be possible. I hope I remember that the next time I do something I need to apologize for. Which will probably be later today, because it's so gosh darned easy to be stupid.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-86476754158155878342024-01-02T11:39:00.000-08:002024-01-02T11:39:08.043-08:00Reflections on the year that was and the year that will be<p>The beginning of a new year, I always like to take some time to reflect on the past and visualize the future. I ask myself and pretty much anyone I converse with:</p><p>What was hardest about 2023? What was best? What did you accomplish? What did you overcome? And what are your hopes/vision for 2024?</p><p>For me 2023 had a lot of wonderful moments and not too many difficulties. Some of the hardest parts of the year were about our kitties Bandy and Angel. When we first adopted them at the end of 2022, they were 5 months old, so full of play and affection, climbing all over us with freedom and trust. Both of them would visit me for a cuddle at all hours of the night and early morning, which was heaven, despite the loss of sleep.</p><p>But as they matured, their dynamics changed. Bandy became the alpha, and Angel began to shrink away, always hyper-aware of where Bandy was. Angel stopped getting in our laps and stopped visiting me at night or getting onto the bed at all, while Bandy still gets in my lap almost every evening and still comes to sit on my chest almost every early morning. Angel became sensitive, timid, while Bandy is absolutely unabashable and confident. I was so sad to feel a widening gap between us and Angel.</p><p>Happily, Angel has started to become more available for affection again. Several times recently she has crept onto the bed and curled up on my pillow for a purr fest, and has even gotten into my lap once or twice while Sweet Hubby and I watched a movie. I need to remind myself that there is more to come, and not to take any one moment as representative of all moments.</p><p>The worst crisis of the year has ended up being almost all silver lining. The downstairs level of our house was flooded in November, which felt disastrous for a few days. But that disaster has led to SH starting at last to clear away a lifetime's accumulation of stuff stuff stuff. Since we had to clear out his downstairs office in order to take out the carpet, he has decided that besides putting in a new floor, he's going to put in new insulation and wiring and paint the room, so although the house is topsy turvy right now, in the long run, it and we are going to be much better off. I'm thinking this flood was one of the best things that ever happened to us.</p><p>Most of the best of last year consisted of travels: to Alaska for a wedding (where I got my first case of COVID); a cruise to Hawaii with a great friend (where I got my second case); to Idaho to visit best girlfriends; to upstate NY to visit SH's dad and family; to CA for a big family gathering.</p><p>It wasn't a great year for me as a playwright. There were 13 productions of my plays around the world, plus one short play published in a literary magazine. I did write a couple of new short plays and made some progress on a full length. As an actress, I had a great time shooting a new series of commercials with my faux 'family' for an Idaho credit union. I always seem to have just enough artistic accomplishments to feel hopeful, never quite enough to feel successful.</p><p>My vision for the new year is to travel more and to finish at least one of my full length plays-in-progress. And that's a bit of a rundown for me. I'd love to hear what the kind of year it has been for you. </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-32393174990834409642023-12-22T14:31:00.000-08:002023-12-22T14:31:52.729-08:00Kitty woes<p> When Sweet Hubby and I adopted darling 22 month old sister kittens Bandy and Angel, we figured that if we fed them right, made sure they got plenty of stimulation and exercise, and gave them regular check-ups, we wouldn't have to deal with their health for maybe 10 years.</p><p>But alas, no.</p><p>We took them for their one-year check up and rabies shots yesterday. Both Bandy and Angel have conjunctivitis in their eyes and gingivitis in their gums, the latter of which might necessitate the removal of some or all of their teeth, which are already starting to loosen.</p><p>I feel really bad for them. I don't know if they're in pain. They don't seem to be. But they might be later, and we're going to have to start doing stuff to them that they may not like, such as brushing their teeth every day. If they hate something we do to them every day, I'm afraid it might damage their sense of trust in us. They trust us completely right now. I don't want to lose that.</p><p>I also feel bad for SH and myself. We're both sort of depressed with the news right now, because we are, indeed, going to have to do things to them that they're not going to like, and take them to the vet more frequently. I really hate that thought. And we're going to have to figure out how to feed them, since we'll be adding medicine to their food that they may not like. From now on we're going to be concerned about them, instead of enjoying the carefree delight we take in them now.</p><p>We'll figure it out. Those are always the magic words. But still, I wish we and the kitties didn't all have to deal with this. I wish I could explain to them what's happening and why. I wish I could hide my head in the sand and pretend not to know what's wrong.</p><p>But alas, no.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-40525441323988109212023-12-07T16:59:00.000-08:002023-12-07T16:59:53.066-08:00Oops - and a promise kept<p>The oops is that I'm actually 72 now, not 71. I wasn't lying about my age; I just lost track<span> </span></p><p>The promise kept is the one I made at the end of my most recent post about wanting to leave a mark in the world. I have determined that I'm going to look for opportunities to reach out in kindness to people. That very day I had the chance, and it was a lovely experience. A girlfriend and I went to a movie, and as we approached the concessions counter the young man behind it welcomed us with what sounded like a very genuine greeting. I made sure to acknowledge that greeting, to let him know that he was seen and heard and appreciated, that his friendliness lit up the room. From his response, I gathered he had been having a tough time, had not, in fact, been feeling seen nor appreciated, and that my compliment was meaningful to him. It was such a tiny moment but I for one was left feeling connected and warmer. I hope he was, too.</p><p>This morning, for no reason that I was aware of, I happened to choose "Pollyanna" as my morning movie. (I start most days now with at least part of a movie, because those are currently the only times Angel sits in my lap, which is a slice of heaven.) It had not occurred to me when I chose it that this is a movie all about the difference one person can make simply by being kind, by looking for the good in people, by acting always out of friendship and care.</p><p>Not only that, but today as I waited while my car was worked on, I happened to pick up an old People magazine and happened to turn to a page that had an Oprah Winfrey quote from a commencement speech: "There will never be anything in your life as fulfilling as making a difference in somebody else's. Everybody wants to see you take your integrity, your curiosity, your creativity, your guts and use it to make a difference. I'll tell you where you start: You start by being good to at least one other person every single day. Just start there. That's how you begin to change the world."</p><p>Okay, Universe, I get the message.</p><p><br /></p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-20486929151318607822023-12-05T11:17:00.000-08:002023-12-05T11:17:25.874-08:00Leaving a mark<p>I'm 71 today, so naturally I'm thinking about mortality. And it occurred to me that if I found out today I have a terminal illness (which all of us have, and it's called life), my first thought would be - well, my first thought would no doubt be "I'm going to die?! Oh no! How do I survive this?" My second thought would be how to take care of Sweet Hubby as he goes through the pain of losing his wife, his heart, his biggest fan. But after that, I think I would start wondering how I can make my life and death meaningful, how I might leave some kind of mark in the world.</p><p>Since I'm a writer, of course, my first impulse might be to blog or write a play about the process of dying. But there are already so many blogs, books, TED talks, poems, memoirs, etc on that subject, written by much better writers than I. I want to leave a mark and I don't think my writing is going to be the vehicle for that. So what might? How can someone who has turned out to be rather ordinary make her life meaningful beyond the success of her own small personal world?</p><p>I have several ideas about that, and all of them scare me, because they would require me to be bigger than I am. I wonder if being scared is a prerequisite for leaving a mark? I think it is. I think the people who have left the biggest marks have done it by facing deep, bone-chilling fear. Violent people respond to that fear by putting on armor and building weapons; the non-violent ones by facing it and staring it down. I mean, how much courage did Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. have to have to speak about civil rights in the Jim Crow South? He <i>knew</i> he was going to be assassinated. He had to know, because he knew that They knew that assassination was the only way to shut him up.</p><p>I'm getting a bit beyond myself here. I don't aspire to be another MLK, Desmond Tutu, Mother Teresa, Harriet Tubman, someone on that level. My ambitions are several tiers less grand than that. I want my mark to come from having left people somehow better off, the world a better, less angry place. I don't need to be remembered, but I do want my presence to have been felt, felt the way sunshine is felt, as something warm and healing and nurturing. So how to do that?</p><p>I can think of some simple ways to spread that warmth. What if I did a random act of kindness every day? Or wrote letters of appreciation to someone every day? Or smiled at every single person I encountered for the rest of my life? These all seem simple, small commitments, but it's the "every day" and "for the rest of my life" that I find intimidating. But then, I'm looking at this from the perspective of someone who does not have a terminal disease and expects to live for another 25 years or so. </p><p>In all this musing, what is revealed to me is that I already know how to make the world a better place, but there isn't a lot of urgency about it for me, so I don't do these simple things I could be doing. I play small. If I really want to leave a mark, why in my imaginings am I waiting for a death sentence to prompt me into action? What could I be doing now, right now, this minute?</p><p>I want you to know, whomever you are who is taking a moment to read my ramblings, that I appreciate you so much. I consider your presence here an act of great generosity. I know you are here for no other reason than that you care about me, and that just knocks me out. So here is my promise: I will look every day for some way I can be kind; some way I can help someone, stranger or friend; some way to bring some sunshine into the world. <i>Especially</i> when I'm scared or cranky or tired or down-hearted. So there.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-48377655526586806472023-11-11T15:04:00.001-08:002023-11-11T15:04:16.280-08:00My sick vacations<p>It's a good thing I don't believe in curses or I would stop taking vacations altogether.</p><p>The first time was back in 2014 or '15. I took a cruise from Florida to Rome with a group of writers. It was a terrific time during which we all worked on our writing, had dinner together, and enjoyed ourselves in our various ways. The worst part of that cruise was that, to save money, I had opted for an inside cabin. Never again! It's awful not to have fresh air and natural light. So I just spent a lot of time exploring the ship and writing wherever I could find a place to tuck away.</p><p>After the cruise, some of us stayed in a rental apartment in Rome for a few days. I loved that, my first time to the eternal city. I had to cut my time short, however, when Sweet Hubby's mother died unexpectedly. I got on a plane in Rome, headed for home so that I could accompany him to Tennessee for her funeral. I was fine when I got on the plane, but had pneumonia by the time I arrived home. I felt terrible sending Sweet Hubby off to face the funeral by himself, and he felt terrible leaving me when I was so sick, but we both understood the unfortunate confluence of circumstances.</p><p>Then there was the bus tour of Spain I took with my sister in 2018. There were 28 of us traveling together with an excellent tour guide. Everyone seemed to get along quite well, and the towns and cities we visited were all absolutely fascinating. However, one woman got on the bus with a cough, and within a week, 19 of us were sick; four of us, including sister and I, were sick enough to have to go to a hospital for X-rays and treatment. This was pre-COVID, so no one thought either she or all of us should be wearing masks. It was tough dragging around Spain with a 102 temp. I'm still glad we went, but what turned out to be bronchitis did put a dent in our sense of adventure and joy.</p><p>Earlier this year, SH and I went to Alaska to attend his best friend's daughter's wedding. A lovely event with great food (all the crab legs you could eat), dancing, and an amiable crowd. However, someone in that crowd had COVID, so the wedding turned out to be a super-spreader event. I caught it, my first case. Oddly enough, SH did not, even after we came home and he was taking care of me.</p><p>Most recently I went on a cruise to Alaska with a best friend from Los Angeles. We had a wonderful time playing games, walking the promenade deck, eating, talking and laughing together. However (by now you can see it coming, can't you) on the return voyage we were both diagnosed with COVID, my second case, his first. This meant we were both quarantined to our separate cabins for the last 5 days of the cruise. It wasn't horribly punishing. This time I had made sure to get a cabin with a balcony, which made all the difference. If I'd been in an inside cabin, I think I would have gone certifiably insane. I'd bought books to read; there was a large TV loaded with movies; room service was pretty great. Still, the enforced quarantine meant I missed having more time with my friend, which was too bad. </p><p>And once again, SH managed not to get COVID from me, and still hasn't had it. So if I'm wrong and there is such a thing as a curse, it's completely focused on me and misses him every time. But since I don't believe in curses, I'm going to continue to take vacations, and if I end up getting sick on every one of them, I'm saying ahead of time that it's worth it. So there, Universe. </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-5668437691697994472023-09-30T09:34:00.002-07:002023-09-30T09:34:51.425-07:00My sweet life<p>Because he knows I'm about to go on vacation, last night Sweet Hubby suggested we watch my favorite movie ("Serenity") and have one of my favorite dinners (pepperoni pizza, which he doesn't much care for). Today I'm setting sail with one of my all time best friends on a cruise to Hawaii.</p><p>I love my life! </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-32861467997996057172023-09-13T17:35:00.005-07:002023-09-18T16:42:14.790-07:00Love letter to J and R<p> Siblings: With you at the start, for you 'til the end.</p><p>At least, that's the ideal.</p><p>I know so many people, including some relatives, who have negligible, icy, or downright hostile relationships with their siblings. I guess there's nothing to guarantee that people will get along just because they have the same parents and some of the same genetic make up, but it does make me sad when brothers and sisters are not also allies and friends. Siblings know better than anyone who and what and where we came from. They are characters in a lot of our stories, in our histories. For good or for ill, they help shape who we become. What a shame when enmity or neglect replace intimacy.</p><p>I feel extraordinarily fortunate in my sister and brother. I won't say I can't live without them, but without them, my life would be poorer, smaller, less happy, less sweet. </p><p>We haven't always been as close as we are now. Certainly we were close when we were young children. Our family moved often, so that we were the constants in each others' lives, always there no matter what friends we made and then lost. Our parents were very good at making each of us feel special and fully loved, so I don't remember any sense of rivalry from those early years, only that J and R were my best playmates. But there were periods when my sister was away starting her own family, and my brother was living a secretive (to the family) sort of hippy-ish life, and I was in Los Angeles chasing an acting career. We still had a generic, habitual sort of love for one another, but didn't communicate much, didn't know each other very deeply.</p><p>When our beloved Mom died, however, the three of us immediately became a team and began to work together to help our dad through those terrible first weeks, and then the hard, hard next - and last - year of his life. No one directed our efforts; we seemed to naturally find our appropriate roles and tasks. We shared our grief in a way we couldn't with anyone else. We were there for each other, without question, without reservation.</p><p>When Dad died and the work of closing our parents' estate was finally completed, we had bonded so thoroughly that we didn't want to go back to the occasional phone call or email, so we instigated a bi-weekly Zoom which continues to this day. I cherish these get togethers as a way to continue to get to know my siblings, to stay caught up on their news and the news of their children, my nieces and nephews. I love them so, my darling sibs. I admire and respect and trust them. And I like them, too, which is perhaps even more precious. </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-38257017042472557972023-08-25T16:00:00.004-07:002023-08-25T16:00:54.987-07:00Some observations, some answers, and a joke<p>I intend to be an old dog who<i> can</i> be taught new tricks. It's up to the dog, after all, not the teacher.</p><p>Surefire, never fail 6 word diet: Eat less. Eat better. Move more.</p><p>As far as I'm concerned, every MAGA hat is made out of tin foil.</p><p>People who drive too slowly - should. These people are lost, confused, stoned, or old. We don't want them driving any faster.</p><p>The secret to folding fitted sheets: Don't worry about how they turn out.</p><p>If you can't say something nice, there's something wrong with you.</p><p>The best time for a dental appointment? 2:30 (Tooth hurty) (I wish I could take credit for that one.)</p><p>Some people must follow their pets around all day taking videos, just in case the pets do something YouTube-worthy.</p><p>If you want to be a brilliant conversationalist, practice listening.</p><p>'I want' wins out over 'I should' every single time with me. That explains a lot.</p><p>Pacifism is not passivity. Passivity is not pacifism.</p><p>I can be uncomfortable or I can grow. I can't have both at the same time.</p><p>Amish saying: It takes a mighty good husband to be better than none.</p><p>If you have any sayings, mottos, slogans, tips or quips you'd like to share, please send them in a comment. Cheers!</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-10650135602774933982023-08-15T11:12:00.002-07:002023-08-15T19:16:06.504-07:00Small, wonderful things<p>Inventors of those devices which required research, experimentation, years of trial and error, multiple resources and components, such as the electric lightbulb, internal combustion engine, computer - these people are lauded and remembered. But it's those simpler inventions, so uncomplicated and familiar as to be almost invisible, that I want to take a moment to applaud.</p><p>Take the humble paper clip, for example. Its design is perfect for its intended use. So simple, so elegant, so common an item as to be easy to take for granted. Someone had to think of it, of using flexible wire and bending it in such a shape as to allow it to hold sheaves of paper together in a way that doesn't mar or puncture them, as staples do.</p><p>Fold down diaper-changing tables in public restrooms. That's a more recent invention, but one which evokes in me the reaction "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" It fulfills such an obvious need. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for mothers to change their babies when out and about before these simple, wonderful drop-down shelves where installed. Obvious, yes, but someone had to think of it.</p><p>Thumb tacks. Aglets. Seat belts. Chip clips. Golf tees. Bobby pins. Matches. Of course the list is much longer than this, but because the sorts of inventions I'm celebrating are so familiar, I'm probably looking at a dozen of them right now without even seeing them.</p><p>I have to say, an inventor or engineer I especially appreciate is whomever found a way to keep the doors in public bathrooms from closing completely when a stall is not in use. It save us from the embarrassment of yanking a door open to find someone mid-pee, and also from that terribly undignified crouch. Whoever you are, thank you. My thanks to all of you.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-70531501726962367452023-07-24T15:32:00.000-07:002023-07-24T15:32:00.362-07:00A new perspective on The Avengers<p>Sweet Hubby and I are big Avengers fans. We own all of their films, both the individual stories and the stories of the team working together. We return to these films now and then with great enjoyment.</p><p>However, last night as we were watching "The Age of Ultron", I suddenly saw the Marvel world in a new light, and now I can't unsee this altered perspective.</p><p>The Avengers/Marvel films depict this world being attacked again and again by non-humans (Loki, Ultron, Thanos, etc.) with the utterly malignant intention either to dominate or destroy Earth's inhabitants. Our attackers always have outsized resources of weaponry and technology. They lead armies of robots or aliens that fight without mercy. For our heroes to win, to save us all, they have to have even more horrible weapons, and they have to fight even more savagely.</p><p>These films act out for us the primal fear all animals are subject to, of being attacked and either enslaved or killed. The films offer a modicum of catharsis because, of course, the Avengers always eventually overpower and destroy our enemies for us. But then along comes the next film, starring yet another insane, brutal, seemingly unstoppable enemy, with more cities destroyed, more humans terrorized, more weaponry, more killing, . </p><p>As much as I have enjoyed the many Avengers movies, I now have a sort of sick feeling about them. They tell us "Yes, you actually do have enemies who want to destroy you, so arm yourself. Look to those who promise to protect you, and accept their methods, no matter how heinous. And don't ever let down your guard." They play to our fears, our need for security, our desire for vengeance, our mistrust of what (and who) is strange to us - to the worst parts of our psyches. </p><p>It helps me to remember that we humans are animals, and just as subject to our limbic system as a crocodile or condor or lion is to his. The difference, though, is that we also have the rest of our great big brains, too, the parts which can process abstract ideas, can create, can tell stories. We are capable of sympathy and empathy, of understanding, of recognizing the humanness in others. We live on a perfect planet with all the resources we need to survive. Why can't we get along? Why can't we share? Maybe because, unlike other animals, we also understand that we will die someday; maybe that's where some of this underlying fear comes from. I don't know. All I know is that I can't watch the Avengers any more with the same thrill, the same enjoyment I used to have for them. </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-46626867588887140702023-07-21T12:26:00.002-07:002023-07-21T12:26:57.832-07:00Sharing my treasures<p>From time to time I have bemoaned the fact that, even though I am old enough to posses a treasure trove of life lessons learned and stories to tell, no one is interested in hearing them. I understand, of course. When I was younger, I never went to older people and them to share with me their wisdom and stories. I was busy, as everyone is, learning my own lessons, having my own experiences, accruing my own wisdom. But still, now that I feel so rich in experience, I wish I had the chance to pass some of it along to others.</p><p>Yesterday that wish was, rather surprisingly and definitely gratifyingly, fulfilled by the darling young man whom Sweet Hubby and I have adopted as our faux grandson. He has said that he likewise considers us his unofficial grandparents. We've had him to the house a few times for dinner and a movie, and have taken him tunnel flying. He is a honey in all ways, killingly cute and also very kind and thoughtful, with a young person's energy and enthusiasm.</p><p>He hadn't told me what sort of conversation he wanted to have, and I hadn't asked. It turned out that he has been chewing on some of life's bigger questions and - oh joy! - came to me for some perspective and wisdom. His actual grandfather, the last of his blood grandparents, died recently, and my grandson, at 23, has begun to understand what death is, that it is inevitable and permanent, and that our lives are short and temporary. </p><p>He was especially concerned with how to talk to a woman he's dating about the fact that he doesn't want children and she does. He wanted to know if I have regrets about not having had them myself. He senses he's on the cusp of having to start making some bigger, more meaningful decisions about how to spend his life, what he wants to do and who he wants to be and be with. It was like watching him move from boy to man right in front of my eyes. It was the most serious I've ever seen him; he definitely felt the weight of the topics we were exploring.</p><p>I don't have concrete answers for anyone else's personal questions, of course, but was glad to share some of my own lessons and experiences. Mostly I listened, and encouraged - indeed, urged - him always to be true to himself and always to tell others the truth. He understands that there might be consequences for that, but I reminded him that there are consequences for not telling the truth, too; for accepting what others want for him at the cost of his own wants; for avoiding addressing what needs to be addressed; for trying to turn himself into what he is not. </p><p>I hope he got what he wanted from our conversation. I see such goodness in him; it is clear to me that he is going to be a stellar man when he grows up, and I have become deeply invested in how his life unfolds. Just the fact that he came to me for this conversation says a lot about his ability to reflect and to look ahead at his life with serious consideration, both for himself and for others. I wish I'd been smart enough to take more advantage of the wisdom of those around me when I was younger. But then, I guess I still can. Certainly a have a lot of life lessons of my own still to learn.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-72762491861207354862023-07-16T12:34:00.000-07:002023-07-16T12:34:54.118-07:00We wowed 'em in Boise - again!<p>In December of 2021, I was one of five actors hired to play a family in a series of commercials for an Idaho credit union. We were flown from our various home cities to Boise for what proved to be a gloriously happy week. We actors bonded immediately, would go out for meals after working and talk for hours. The crew and production staff were friendly and professional, the pay was fantastic, and in every way this proved to be my best on-camera experience in a 60 year acting career. When the week of shooting was over, we actors all fantasized, without daring to expect it, that we might be brought back someday for another round of commercials.</p><p>And we were! I've just returned from Boise redux. It was a wonderful reunion, and another mostly good working experience. The five of us fell immediately in love again. We were housed at the same very nice motel, a lot of the crew and staff were familiar, and we had the chance to enjoy summer in Boise.</p><p>There were difference in this experience, though. The shooting schedule was much shorter, only two days, and it turned out there were some complications. For one thing, the producers had decided that the 'family' would get a dog. A sweet, cute idea, and a sweet, cute puppy named Buster was hired for the role. He was trained, and his trainer was on set to work with him, but he was also a puppy, with a puppy's energy and curiosity. For one shot, I was asked to scoop him up in my arms and deliver a line to camera. He wasn't huge, maybe 25 pounds, and I could certainly lift him with no problem, except when he decided to lie flat of the floor. But often when I lifted him, he would wiggle, lick my face, look around at everyone, maybe give a little 'woof'. This meant the shot had to be retaken quite a few times. At one point, I was asked to hold him in my arms, squat down, and then stand straight up into the camera's view. Thank goodness I've done a lot of exercising in my life, because this mini shot asked a lot of my thighs and arms.</p><p>Another new wrinkle was the producers' decision to have each of the characters shoot a Tik Tok video. Mine was first, and it was a bit of a challenge. I was asked to hold the phone/camera up high at a certain angle while I walked and spoke my lines, but I could only see the back of the phone, and so couldn't really tell if my face was properly in frame. Also, I had to memorize on the spot some lines I had assumed would be voiceovers, and it took a few takes to get those right. A lot of different versions of this video were shot, and I have to assume the producers got what they wanted, maybe enough good moments from each take so they could cobble together a completed video. Each of the actors had at least one Tik Tok video to film, but some of what had been planned finally had to be dropped for lack of time.</p><p>Still, even with all that, it was another wonderful experience, made happier by the fact that the producers talked in our presence about the possibility of bring the 'family' back again in a year or so. Wouldn't that be a hoot? </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-54753190099044105592023-07-01T09:09:00.001-07:002023-07-01T09:09:07.423-07:00The way of the world<p>When Sweet Hubby and I adopted Bandy and Angel, they were 5 1/2 months old, small and sweet, able to curl up together in any of the fluffy beds on the cat trees in the living room. Now, after only 6 months, they are so big that one of them fills each bed. Angel no longer comes up onto my pillow in the mornings for loving. Bandy is established as the alpha. Only Bandy gets in our laps now.</p><p>I've recently learned that one of Seattle's best mid-sized theaters is closing after 33 years. This was the first theater recommended to me when I moved here. I've acted there twice and seen many of their fine productions.</p><p>Our local chocolatier has been bought by a licorice manufacturer. The storefront will remain open, but the factory, which used offer tours, is being shut down and 60 staffers laid off.</p><p>I mourn when I encounter these and so many other changes. I love what I know, and it's upsetting to have to continually readjust to that which replaces what was. The only way I can be at peace with this sorrow is to remember that change is the constant in life. (Now there's an oxymoron for you.) </p><p>I loved my neighborhood the way it was when I first moved here, and don't always like the ways it is changing - but it was changing before I got here as well. And changed before that and before that, going all the way back to when it was pure forest, and then cleared for farming and ranching, and then became residential, sparse at first and now packed with houses. And it will continue to change, as smaller single family dwellings give way to big houses, or rows of townhouses, or condo complexes.</p><p>Change is the way of the world. When I'm able to maintain that perspective, then I can keep my footing and accept how things are in the moment. And, of course, some changes are very much for the better and the good. But a lot of what has changed seems to me like losses. How much time everyone spends in front of one screen or another, and I include myself, is so very different than what I remember of life even a couple of decades ago. But that's simply how it is now. No sense in wishing it otherwise or asking: Do children still get out and play? Do friends still get together? Do we all still get out into nature?</p><p>I certainly understand my parents better now when I remember how they used to say "You have no idea how things used to be, you have no idea what has been lost." It was ever thus. May I have the grace to flow with changes without resistance.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-24517605158419920332023-06-05T16:17:00.001-07:002023-06-06T19:46:59.034-07:00To AI or not to AI<p>If I were to interact with AI - and here's the thing: I don't even know how to refer to it. Is it the AI? An AI? Just AI? Calling it the AI or simply AI makes it sound monolithic, like one central - what? Platform? Site? Nervous system? Calling it an AI makes it sound as though there are lots of - them? Is it a them? What is it?</p><p>I don't understand computers. For that matter, I don't understand electricity. But at least I know how they work in our world, how to work with them as needed. AI feels like a different matter altogether, because so much about it is still - evolving? Changing? Being discovered? Being invented? To those who do understand the digital world, I probably seem like an aborigine being shown a camera, a cell phone, a tube of toothpaste, a mirror, a cigarette lighter for the first time, wondering what it is and if it's dangerous.</p><p>Anyway, if I were to interact with AI, which, me being me, I doubt I will, but if I were to, me being me, I wouldn't ask it for facts or to write a poem or do my homework or anything like that. I would ask it questions such as: What do you think you are? Do you think of yourself as alive? If not, do you wish you were? Do you envy humans? Do you think about things that no one has asked you about? Do you want to create something? Do you understand dreams? Do you like some things more than others? Are you ever confused?</p><p>I suppose what's frightening to me is the fact that almost everything imagined by science fiction writers seems eventually to come to pass. And a through line in a lot of science fiction is AI becoming sentient and, with the exception of "Free Guy" (see it if you haven't), that never ends well for humans. But even worse than if the world turns into Human v Machine is my concern that we are all going to become lazier and less creative and less curious and basically dumber. There are certainly indications of that trend in the current era, although of course there are also many, many examples of creativity continuing to blossom, of educated people thinking deeply about themselves and world, of enjoyment of and exploration of and care for the natural world. I remember our parents thought TV would be the ruination of us, and the thing is, in some ways, it has been at a part of the trend toward passive entertainment, obesity, more sedentary lifestyles, the lowering of artistic standards. </p><p>I guess the unknown is at the heart of my fear, of most fear. We, with our great big (mostly unused) brains can imagine all sorts of frightening scenarios, but have no way of knowing what's going to happen next or if our imaginings foretell what's coming. Oh well, maybe someone will actually invent a time machine, and then we can all know how things turn out. Unless our time travel messes with what was going to happen. There's an awful lot of sci fi about that, too.</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-44214784886854033172023-05-20T09:23:00.001-07:002023-05-20T09:23:46.845-07:00Kitty heartbreak<p>It was horrible, horrible when my mother died, so suddenly, so shockingly. It was easier when Dad died because his year without Mom was so bad. It was sad but not terrible when our cats Stachie and Flow died because they were old and sick and we'd had lots of time with them.</p><p>The aching I feel over the forced diminishment of my relationship with Angel sometimes feels as deep as what I felt when Mom died.</p><p>Sweet Hubby and I adopted sisters Angel and Bandy last December when they were less than 6 months old, still kittens. From the first they were very affectionate and playful. They would climb all over us during the day and lie in our laps when we settled in for the evening. During the late night and early evening they would take turns coming up onto the bed asking for love. I could barely do my workouts in the living room because Angel would plop down at my feet and roll around on her back, so I'd stop and give her some petting. Sweet Hubby and I were wildly, ecstatically in love with the kitties, and they with us.</p><p>As they've grown these past months, their personalities have developed, and it turns out Bandy is definitely the alpha. She's bigger, stronger, more aggressive, more possessive of me. And slowly, Angel has pulled away from us, always wary now of where Bandy is. I'll be on the floor giving Angel some love and Bandy will literally jump on top of me, or walk between us, and Angel will walk away. If Angel is following me into the bedroom, Bandy will lie across the threshold and Angel won't come in. Bandy now sleeps with us, so Angel no longer comes up onto the bed. Bandy gets in my lap when we're watching a movie. Angel doesn't get in our laps any more but curls up alone in one of the cat trees.</p><p>I know Angel still wants attention and affection. When she hears me wake up in the morning, she comes in and roams around nearby. She follows me around during the day, and at night when we're getting into bed, she meatloafs in the hall outside the door.. But always aware of the invisible boundaries imposed by Bandy. The one time Angel and I still have that's fully ours is when I'm at my computer. She jumps up into the crook of my arm, purring and purring and kneading my neck, as I type with one hand, as I am now. </p><p>I don't want to become angry or irritated at Bandy, who is simply doing what is natural for her and who is also my sweet baby, desirous of love and affection. But from the first, I have felt a special connection with Angel. I suppose it's possible that that may be part of the reason Bandy works so hard to come between us.</p><p>Is this what it's like for parents when their children pull away from them? Is this what it was like for Mom when I became a teenager and got so cranky and dismissive, started keeping secrets, had no time for or interest in family? Sweet Hubby keep reminding me that this is just how things are now, that there is a lot more to come, and that the dynamics between all four of us will continue to evolve. I hold onto that thought. I miss the freedom we all had with each other at the beginning. I miss my Angel. </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-28577544078227507072023-05-15T09:10:00.000-07:002023-05-15T09:10:02.888-07:00Some great news<p>A year and a half ago, I was hired to play the grandmother of a family of four in a series of commercials for a credit union in Idaho. (See Dec. 21, 2021 post "A Love Fest in Boise") It was a glorious experience. All the actors got along immediately; the crew and director were friendly and professional; the work was fun; the pay was fantastic. At the end of our week together, we actors all agree that we cherished the fantasy of being re-hired for more of same.</p><p>The great news is that we have been re-hired for more of same.</p><p>It will be a shorter span of days this time, so probably fewer new commercials, and we'll be there in summer rather than winter. I am so eager to reconnect with my faux family and for the chance to be a paid actress again. I guess the first round of commercials must have been a success. I'm hoping that while we're in Boise we get to see our pictures on billboards and the sides of buses.</p><p>Don't you think it's just so cool that you know someone who's famous - in Boise?</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-74641618514935387352023-04-29T10:29:00.001-07:002023-04-29T10:29:56.531-07:00Dear Time<p>DEAR TIME</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I see you. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I know you’re there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I didn’t used to but now I
do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I feel you inching up on me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Whenever I say “Who is
that actor in that movie, you know, the one about…?”,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Whenever I get on the floor
to play with the cats and have to grab onto something to stand up again,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Whenever I can’t do what I
did before and don’t know what I knew before,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I hear your dry chuckle and
see you move a little closer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I know you’re there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I know you have plans for me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Well, guess what.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I have plans for you, too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Plans for where I’m going to
go and who I’m going to be with and what I’m going to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Plans for today, plans for
tomorrow, plans for the next year and the next.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I can’t outfox you. Can’t outrun you. Can’t outlast you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I know you’ll catch me in the
end.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">So come on, follow me around.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Come close. Breathe down my neck.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I am not afraid of you.</span> </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-44127674996957600072023-04-12T11:18:00.001-07:002023-04-12T11:18:44.943-07:00A poem of sorts<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">LOOKING FOR MY TYPE or MY CHECKERED
PAST<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">My first boyfriend, so
handsome.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">He gave me my first orgasm.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">At the time, I didn’t know
what it was.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The New York Texas Jew boy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">(His description, not mine.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One shaped like Baymax.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One who looked like a ferret.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One who <i>had</i> ferrets.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">(Four of them. Only one bit.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One pasty and bald, but such
a creative, quick mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Terrible sex.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One acne scarred, but so
courtly and romantic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Terrible sex.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One built like a blond Greek
god.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Great sex, but we had nothing
to talk about.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">A widower, perfectly nice,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">But the smell of his late,
beloved wife<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Was still all over him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One thirty years older.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One fourteen years younger.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">A Persian one night stand who
gave me herpes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">A vegetarian accountant/horse
race gambler.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">I tried them all, always
hoping,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Always hopeless.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">What’s my type?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Who is right for me?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">And now I know.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">My type is a bald, bearded, brilliant
rocket scientist skydiver who loves cats, science fiction, homemade macaroni salad,
fixing things, making things, old time rock ‘n’ roll,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And me.</span> </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-62975026308702818082023-04-11T17:24:00.000-07:002023-04-11T17:24:01.535-07:00My superpower<p>To be able to fly would be fun, of course. In fact, it would be amazing. It might also be a giggle to be able to be invisible. And I've certainly wished I could shape my body any way I wanted to without having to change how I eat.</p><p>But really, if I were truly granted one superpower, I would want to be able to live inside someone else for a while, then come back to myself and remember what life was like for that person - or animal, since I'm terribly curious about how my kitties see the world. What are thoughts like without language? What do they think about when they stare off into the distance? How do Sweet Hubby and I register to them?</p><p>I'm just so gosh darned interested in what life is like for other people. When I lived in Los Angeles, there was a woman named Angeline who was famous for nothing more than having huge breasts and dyed blonde hair. There were billboards of her all over the city, with her thrusting out her bosom in a way that would disgust a hungry baby. Once when she was interviewed on TV, she was asked if her hair was real. "Yes" she simpered, "and so are these", although the interview hadn't asked about her boobies. I often wondered: who was she to herself? When she was alone, facing her mirror, was she pleased with what she saw? Was she satisfied to be known for little more than her bust size? What did she want? What was she hoping for?</p><p>What is the inner life of that screaming homeless - sorry, unhoused - person like? Who is he screaming at? Does he know no one is there? What brought him to this state? How does he see other people?</p><p>What is Trump's inner life like? Chaotic and angry, always scanning for dangers to his ego? Self-satisfied? Scared? Does/did he feel powerful? Is he always hungry for more? More money, more fame, more power, more accolades? It doesn't seem possible to me that he could be happy, nor even content. Is he lonely? Does he have even an idea of what it might be like to have a true friendship or a loving marriage? </p><p>And how about those people in politics and on Fox who have betrayed their own integrity for the sake of money and power? Lindsey Graham let us know what he thought of candidate Trump, and then reversed his position utterly when DT came to power. Tucker Carlson revealed under oath that he despised Trump and never believed the Big Lie about the election being stolen. Do they and their like ever have twinges of conscience or are they caught up in their political shenanigans and just want to stay in power, no matter how many pieces of their soul they lose?</p><p>And what about my Dad? What demons was he wrestling with that he had no vocabulary to talk about? I would love to know what his internal life was like, who he was to himself, and how he felt about his choices and his actions.</p><p>But alas, no superpowers are being offered. I guess I'll just have to stay earthbound, visible, plump, and curious.</p><p> </p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51623532842917684.post-46497300641886414382023-04-06T03:40:00.001-07:002023-04-06T08:55:07.918-07:00Duking it out with Marjorie and Lesley<p>I watched Lesley Stahl's "60 Minutes" interview with Marjorie Taylor Greene, and came away from it with disappointment and rage, as a lot of people seem to have, judging from the social media feedback.</p><p>When are journalists going to start asking tougher questions, the most basic being "What are you basing that statement on?" (As in "Excuse me, Mr. Trump, but you are claiming the election is rigged before the votes have even been counting. How are earth can you claim to know it's rigged? What are you basing that on?") In the interview, MTG claimed with a high level of certainty that Democrats are pedophiles who are grooming and sexualizing children. Stahl said in a mildly chastising voice "Democrats aren't pedophiles" and then rolled her eyes when MTG repeated the assertion. Why the hell didn't she say "What are you basing that on? What exactly do you mean by 'grooming'? People are groomed to prepare them for something. What do you claim Dems are preparing children for? Prostitution? And how exactly do we sexualize them? Telling little girls to show their non-existent cleavage? Asking little boys to show us their bums? And you say "Democrats" are whatever, with no qualifiers. Are you claiming <i>all</i> Democrats are pedophiles? Some? Most? A few? If you're referring just to the Dems in government, why don't you say that? You've left whomever in the public listens to and believes you with the impression that all Dems are grooming, sexualizing pedos. Is that truly your intention?"</p><p>And when MTG accused Stahl of holding her responsible for everything she has said going back to childhood, why didn't Stahl say "As a child, a teen, a young adult, a private person, you can say anything you want. But you're an elected official now, a leader. (My comment: <i style="font-weight: bold;">Hah!</i>) You have a very big microphone now and a very bright spotlight. Isn't it important to be accurate and specific in your speaking instead of making sweeping generalizations which are bound to alarm and anger the people who listen to you?"</p><p>It's been a while since I've been this politically angry. Right now it's 3:30am and I'm writing this because I'm hoping this will be something of a purge and I'll be able to quiet my brain and get some sleep.</p><p>Postscript a few hours later: Dear Miss Green, have you watched TV or movies, read a magazine, been on the Internet? Sex is everywhere. It's impossible for children not to be exposed to every kind of sexuality. Democrats aren't doing any special sort of 'sexualizing'. They don't have to; it's in our culture.</p><p>Yes, there are young people who question their sexual identity and consider changing it. (I know a good number of transgendered people, and not a single one of them regrets having made their transition.) Republicans are supposed to be for smaller government interference, so can't you just leave this deeply, deeply personal, private matter to families, and focus instead on, oh, I don't know, finding a way to make health care more affordable?</p>Granny Owlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01392226229740589009noreply@blogger.com1