My Secret to "Looking" Younger

Well the use of quotation marks gives away that this post will not really give you information to turn back time on your face or body. But the truth of how people respond to how we look is mostly about the self-image we carry in our heads. Now humor me here for a moment. Do we agree that it is a given that how we feel we look is not dead on the reality mark?
(Moving ahead with the assurance of a majority vote in my favor here.) So, if we are not right why not carry a "better" or fantasy image? Sometimes you will see me out and not realize that I am my alterbody, Lupe the Latina based on any number of woman from the pop culture. What truly counts to people ( who are not shallow twits and who wants them as friends anyway?) is how you carry yourself and the confidence behind all that. So, since it won't cost you anything to try this, take your alterbody out for a test drive and let me know how it works for you.
Blog On!
Leslie

Pets of Christmas Past

Santa, baby, bring me some of that bird sushi for Christmas.

Maureen here. Leaving to go to my sister Peggy's for Christmas dinner and jocularity soon. Leslie's cats got treats after breakfast today, although Nefertiti, the beauty in the photo, even today seems to be more interested in the birdies she can see from the window.

I got thinking of how I miss my old Joon Bug, my late great mini bull terrier. They call BT's "a three-year-old in a dog suit" and that certainly fit Joon when she was young. I remember Christmases at my dad's house when Joon would be so wound up she'd race from room to room, especially when she'd hear the rattle of wrappping paper. The only person who could calm her down was my teenage nephew Ryan. We didn't have the term "dog whisperer" then, but that certainly fit Ryan. He'd put the Bug on his lap and rub her ears and she'd lapse into quiet contentment. To think this is now his first Christmas as a newlywed with his beautiful bride Katie - and a CAT, of all things.

My dad had a chair in the living room that was HIS chair - we daughters called it the Archie Bunker chair. The only one who dared fight him for it was Joon. Dad would go into the living room to settle down comfortably in the Chair, and Joon would be perched there, grinning at him. Dad would pretend to be exasperated, but the next thing you'd know, the two of them would be in the chair together, watching some sappy Christmas thing on TV or football.

Before Joon, I had a cat, Tiger the Terrible. I can still remember the very distinct sound of Tiger eating needles off the bottom branches of the Christmas tree. It sounded like a tiny elf eating wee potato chips. I also remember the very distinct sound of the spruce needles coming back up a couple of hours later.

One Christmas, I brought Tiger home with me because I was going to stay a few days. Mom was doing laundry, and the weather was so bad she was actually using the dryer. This was quite an occasion, as Mom much prefered to hang clothes outside because they smelled so nice from the fresh air and it saved electricity. (Mom was green before it was cool.) Anyway, she finished loading the clothes in the dryer, closed the door, and turned in on.

"Ka-Bang! Ka-Bang!"

I came running in and Mom opened the dryer door as quickly as she could. Out sprang Tiger. He must have leapt six feet straight out from the dryer before his paws hit the floor. Mom was horrified and I was so laughing so hard I couldn't talk. Tiger raced to the other end of the house, dashed up the stairs, and pouted under my parents' bed for hours. Mom couldn't stop apologizing.

Going back even farther, when I was in grad school at Syracuse, I took care of my friend Rita's cat Zelda over Christmas break while Rita was away. Mom, who had never let us have pets, said I could bring Zelda home. She was a very well-behaved guest for the most part. We had one of those big old color TV's that got really warm on top. Zelda loved the heat and would lie on the TV on her back, with her head hanging down over the top of the screen. Given the state of network television at the time, Zelda was indoubitably more amusing that what we were watching.

I believe it was New Year's Day, not Christmas, when Zelda made her move. We were at the dining room table, enjoying a delicious turkey dinner (having had ham at Christmas) when we heard a distinct thump! from the kitchen. We all looked at each other quizzically, and then I went racing into the kitchen. There on the counter was Zelda, stalking the turkey as though she were a lioness on the savanna, stalking a gazelle. Despite the poetry of the image, Zelda got no turkey that day.

I see it's time for me to go to Peggy's for this year's Christmas ham. For all of you and your pets today, I wish all the best. As always,

"May your days be merry and bright,

And may all your Christmases be white."

- Maureen

Maureen's Lunch

We were out to celebrate Maureen's new job at Alchemy, in Gloucester, MA. The previous summer I had taken my Aunt Martha there and she had pronnounced the Cobb Salad to be the best she had ever eaten. Since my Aunt Martha was over 90 years of age I thought that was a pretty strong endorsement! Maureen is particular about food and this was a celebration in her honor. I knew I could trust Alchemy to do it up right. After a wonderful lunch the four of us decided to split a Strawberry Shortcake. The square plate, the oval spoons like metal petals amid the smear of remains ....well I had to preserve the moment. So, to the left is the evidence of a great desert: all the memories and none of the calories.
Blog On!
Leslie

The Ageless Joy of Learning

Almost three weeks ago my friend Rose Ann Hunter, http://www.roseannhunter.com , and I got to teach at The Gathering in Wakefield, MA. I knew I would be surrounded by over a hundred avid spinners. My plan was to learn on the wheel Ann Banks had loaned me and quietly sit in their ranks but lack of organization precluded that happening. So I packed the wheel determined to bring it out on Saturday night after the workshops and find a kind teaching soul. Laura had tried to teach me at spa a few years ago but that was in a bar and before I gave myself permission to enjoy rather than fight the learning curve. I decided that I had to learn to spin after someone told me that the year her father died spinning was the only thing that helped calm her. That sure got my attention. I was definitely in search of a legal route to calmness that came without calories.
So, carrying the wheel I search for a friendly group to insert myself. Finding a small group with an empty chair I am welcomed in and introduce myself to Ellen Thesoulofpatience* on my left. Within a few hours I am sitting in the main room with who knows how many pro handspinners and enjoying , really enjoying myself. That woman was right! There is a centering, calming, meditative quality to holding a fluffy, colorful natural substance with no solid form or strength and feeling it transform in your fingers to yarn. Now, don't quote me, but I think Rumpelstiltskin was an unnecessary overachiever.
Blog On!
Leslie
*not her real last name

Better in Black and White, Part 3

Back with my ruminations on black and white "monster" movies. That's what we called them then, even though now some are considered Sci-Fi and some horror. Here are just a few of my favorites from the 50's and early 60's.

First, a movie that was made in the wonderful year of 1951, the year I was born. It's "The Day the Earth Stood Still" and starred Michael Rennie as a handsome, debonair yet saddened alien and Patricia Neal as the beautiful terrestrial who gently loved him. He came in peace; we answered with violence. This was a surprisingly leftist view in an era when movies consistently portrayed the scientists who begged for understanding of the unknown as misguided at best and criminally stupid at worst. (It was a long cultural way to Captain Jean Luc Picard.) It is also a really good movie, as you might be able to judge from the casting of the leads. Favorite quote: "Klaatu barada nicto."

Another film made in 1951 was more typical of the times. "The Thing" starred James Arness as a carrot-like alien found frozen in the Arctic by a US Air Force expedition. It's the scientist who wants to keep the Thing around for scientific examination, and he's meddling in things best left alone. He says, "There are no enemies in science, only phenomena to be studied." Of course, he's wrong. The carrot unthaws and goes on a killing rampage. This Thing is dealt with (later to become Marshall Dillon), but the military men fear that more murderous veggies are on their way to Earth. Famous quote: "Watch the skies, everywhere! Keep looking. Keep watching the skies!" Paranoid, much?

In 1954, the year my wonderful sister Pat was born, we were graced with the 50's take on the King Kong myth. The poor "Creature from the Black Lagoon" was perfectly happy in his murky Amazonian swamp. Then those pesky American scientists disturbed him and that dumb Julie Adams riled him up with her slinky, one-piece, white bathing suit. Gillman's hormones went wild, the scientists had the weapons, and the beast was captured to be taken back to be displayed like a curiosity. This movie looks like it cost about as much as a '54 Nash Rambler. I swear when I saw it on Syracuse TV, I could see the zipper in the back of the Gillman's costume.

Next is a movie made in the same year my fabulous sister Sheila was born. I saw it years later on the Baron Daemon show when the Baron regaled central New York late Saturday nights. Dad watched it with me, and we laughed so hard we woke Mom up who had to shush us. The Giant Claw was an extraterrestrial buzzard composed (I almost wrote "composted") of antimatter. You can see in the photo the straggly feathers that looked as thought they had been pulled from some old lady's Sunday hat. The plot was the usual mishmash of brave military battling against the rampaging beast; it was the sight of the pitiful puppet that would set me off into helpless snorting. At the very end, our Boys in Air Force blue manage to shoot the thing down over New York Harbor and that last thing you see is a giant claw (what else) sinking into the pollution. It looked for all the world like it was waving bye-bye. Typical quote: "A bird. A bird as big as a Battleship!"

Before I go off to bed to dream of giant buzzards, rampaging carrots, and handsome aliens with English accents, I'd like to list a couple of honorable mention Vincent Price movies from this time period. There was the infamous Tingler, that was sort of gross on TV - some giant cockroach that crawled out of your spine when you were afraid and couldn't scream. Supposedly it was great in the theaters when it opened; the producer William Castle had the seats wired to vibrate or something and had uniformed nurses there in case you were overcome. Then there was The Fly - the 1950s version, NOT the overwrought Jeff Goldblum remake. An entire generation of schoolchildren grew up chanting "Help Me!" in falsetto because of the man who somehow got his head stuck on a fly's body. Don't you hate when that happens? You guesssed it - another scientist who had meddled with things best left alone.

And finally, there are Ed Wood's immortal epics, "Plan 9 from Outer Space" and "Night of the Ghouls." I left them off my main list because I didn't see them until I was an adult. "Night of the Ghouls" wasn't even released until 1987, and trust me, if you enjoyed "Plan 9", "Night of the Ghouls" is even worse. My friend Eric got it on VHS and the first time I saw it, he had to stop the tape. When I heard the main character's name, Dr. Acula, I got an attack of the unstoppable giggles. I could only gasp, "That's so third grade." Dr. Acula is a fake psychic and his seances feature a couple of unique items flying through the air: a trumpet on visible wires, and the head of a black man with a flowerpot for a hat who keeps uttering, "Woaw woaw woaw." We never know why.

My next blog is going to be about the greatest black and white monster movie ever made. And I will brook no arguments on my choice. (Hint, hint.)

- Maureen

Black and White will be back after this Brief Interruption

I have been happily gathering information for my next post about black and white movies - this one about monster movies of the 50's. What a shock! Some of the movies I wanted to discuss, such as The Blob, were actually color movies. Was my memory so faulty?

No. It's because we had only black and white TV at 613 Parry St. until 1965. While the movies may have been in color, I saw them in black and white. So now I'm researching my list of movies to find out which were originally b+w and which color.

So who among you knows what the above graphic is and under what conditions would you have seen it?

Thank You, Veterans

Omaha Beach, Normandy Invasion, June 1944

Thank you today to our veterans. Thanks to the farmers and tradesmen who faced down the redcoats in Lexington and Concord on that April morning. Thanks to the 1st Minnesota Regiment that lost 215 of its 262 men in one charge at Gettysburg. Thanks to the doughboys of Word War I, who thought they had fought the war to end all wars - if only that were true. Thanks to Ted Williams, not only a Red Sox immortal, but a real hero of Korea. Thanks to all the men and women of my generation who went to Vietnam; sadly, the ones I knew then came back asking "Why?" Thanks to the Gulf War vets who suffered not just the adversities of war, but the haunting souvenir of mysterious illness. Thanks to the veterans and current service men and women of Afghanistan and Iraq. You deserve so much better than you have been given.

And finally, thanks to all the men and women who served for our country in World War II. A special remembrance to John J. McMahon, my late father, who was a Chief Gunner's Mate in the US Navy. He was at Omaha Beach on D-Day.

- Maureen