The Happiest Place on Earth

Yes, that would be Disneyland. This is my second annual participation in the Reyes family reunion. Yesterday, M and arrived early, checked in and then headed for Orange for lunch. Hmmm, the five mile trip to Orange turned into a 10 mile adventure with a few u-turns. Sometimes I wonder how I made it around the entire world. Well, admittedly there were more than few lost moments during those travels. And more than one time I just gave up getting to where I wanted to go and started following people because Douglas Adams once wrote in a book, that you should just get behind someone who looks like they know where they are going, you may not end up where you want to be but you will end up where you should be. Yes, I have found that this Karmic view of getting places has saved much self-abuse.
Historic Orange is a quiant area filled with good restaurants and expensive antique shops. M and I ate at the Cuban restaurant on the corner of the roundabout. It was a beautiful day and very good food.
Later we met up with others in Disneyland. I ate a massive piece of Chocolate cake and promptly understood that I overdid it. It was like a brain freeze with icecream only in the pit of my stomach while most others were riding Pirates. I guess that the cake is still with me because as I am writing this I am in the lobby drinking coffee to try to settle my stomach. I know that this goes again all logic but I think it is because I put so much creamer in my coffee. Breakfast does not even sound remotely interesting right now.
After dinner last night, we went into first California Adventure until it closed at 10:00 and then into Disneyland. M and I were pegged out but we had Mal with us who as any 12 year old boy is on holiday, full of energy. He went off with the cousins and M and I found rides that allowed quiet repose such as the Tiki Room and the Jungle cruise. Mal and the cousins stayed on until the bitter end, so it was almost 1:00 before we found ourselves in the hotel room.
Coffee is finished, and I think I will take a walk out while everyone else is having breakfast. More later.

The Help

Katheryn Sockett's first book is a highly readable story of women in a turning point of American and particularly Southern history. Women caught on both sides of a cultural divide. The most obvious divide that is still there today is the racial divide. Black and White. But there are other divides, rich and poor. Of course the maids are stuck on the poor side but we also see Miss Celcia, white trash that married above her station struggling with the lines that Aibileen comes to realize are just in our heads. Also the rich white girl Skeeter toes another line of the time. She is not settling down, marrying and having a brood of her own that will require Help to take care of. Her mother wonders if she my be a lesbian and has her drink a specially brewed tea to cure that possible tendency. Because Skeeter is questioning her own expected place in society she is able to look around her in 1960's Jackson, Mississippi and question the order. And in the 1960's the world had their eyes on Mississippi and their struggle at time with violent and ugly results to keep traditions from crumbling into a new era without Jim Crow.
Being from Little Dixie, the only part of Oklahoma that is actually Southern in culture. I was able to recognize some of the characters. Things in the world had changed by the time I was growing up in the 70's and 80's but not that much. Integration on the surface was a fact, I know that there was a Black school in my town but it was closed down by the time I was school. So I grew up with Black classmates, but I cannot say that I really had any black friends--I had to wait until college for that to happen. No reason really other than it just wasn't done. I was friendly with my Black classmates but my circle of friends were just like me, lower middle-class Whites.
Conitinuing with my thoughts, I was raised by a mother with an open world view. When I came home from schoool telling my Mom about the poor Soviet children with no choices that I learned about, she quickly let me know that what I was hearing was propaganda and that the Soviet children were more like me than not. My mom told us of her Black friend in Conroe, TX that used to come and go by the back door no matter how my mother asked her to enter like her other friends. But her friend said that it was better her way, would rumple feathers in the town over either one of them, I am sure. My mother often cited that trash and decency comes in every color, no culture, color or creed has a monopoly on either one.
But I also grew up in a tense time, our little town had a race riot incited by the appropriately named Willie Warhop, half Indian, half Black and pure thug. For three days the school was closed, my younger brother and I were shipped off to the country, a good man and cop, Rueben Farmer, lost his life and countless building burned down all over an incident that happened at the nortoriously trashy nightclub Black Cat.
My father 10 years older than my mother, had different sensiblities. In basic terms he was racist. But wrapped up in thatknee jerk racism of his era, he befriended people who were worthy of friendship. One junior officer Earner came to call my mom and dad just that Mom and Pop. Heads would sometimes turn in the store with this very black man and my parents would exchange greetings in stores. I have a special place for Earner in my own heart. During the rough rough week that my mother called me back to Idabel so I would have have a chance to say goodbye to my father who was fading fast, he lasted less than 5 more weeks, Earner came by and spent some time with my father. During a time when my father wishfully mistook me for my sister, and confused things in the present with the past, Earner gave me a glimpse of the man my father was before the illnesses consumed him. He laughed and his eyes crickled in a way that I only had a memory of, only Earner, sitting at the kitchen table, that bleak November evening, was able to bring my father back for a glimmer.
Somethings change and some stay the same. Bi-racial relationships are still frowned on in my town and probably across much of America. They happen but no one seems to like them. A friend's sister and her Asian husband and mixed children moved to Hawaii from South Carolina in search of a more welcoming environment. Perhaps it is no mistake that our first African-American president is from Hawaii. It's not that racism doesn't exist in Hawaii. It does. When a co-worker and I overheard another co-worker explaining to a student that Hawaii wasn't racist, we jumped all over him. What was he talking about, Haole's, Flips, Japs, Local this and that, etc. Local author's Lois Yamanaka's are often banned on the mainland for containing blantantly racist dialogs. Our co-worker amended his statement to "Well, Ok, we are equal opporunity racist in Hawaii." That I would agree with and perhaps that is our hope. Race is recognized along with the often cultural nuances that goes with it, but it generally doesn't get in the way of letting people live their lives.

Why I Write...

Something happened that has made me reconsider why I write this blog, what I write about and who I am writing it for. Of course I don't have quite the same lofty reasons as George Orwell. I am slightly more pedestrian. The who is easy, I mostly write for myself. I used to write a day trip column for Hiroshima English Language The Outsider magazine. My travel log was titled Trippin' Out and then later I wrote some interviews titled "On the Couch with..." If I call up one of those articles, I am able to recall all the nuances of the day the event happened and when I sat down to put pen to paper (and that is what I did then--I was very computer un-savvy at the time. Of course, the secondary reason that I write now as I did then was for other people that I know would know what I was up to. This was and still is my primary way to stay in touch with friends, family and other acquaintances from around the world.
I remember the first time that someone came up to me that I didn't know to tell me that they had taken a day trip that I recommended (and that I forgot to mention that you needed to take sleeping bags to stay in the cabins--OOPS!!!). I was shocked that someone read what I had written that didn't really know me and then felt really really bad that someone READ WHAT I HAD WRITTEN and had had a bad experience. Let's just say I feel a big sense of deja vu right now.
So sometimes I forget that the who I write for can be much bigger I expect or even know. When I write, I do try to relate the facts or to try to put as positive spin on events as possible. Except for that really awful book The Year of Eating Dangerously by poofter Tom Parker Bowles. I still think that it is the most awful book I ever read. But now I am digressing.
Let me focus on what I write. Obviously, I write about what ever is on my mind at the moment. I try to write about things that I want to remember or think is interesting. Much of what I write would be classified book and movie reviews. I write these because I think they are interesting. A portion of what I write is what is how I view what is happening in my life at the moment. Like I said, I try upbeat most of the time except for that poofter's book--no positive spin there, ever.
That leaves the why--or have I already answered that. The big why is that I would love to be a writer but don't have it in me to be one. I have tried to keep journals time and time again but they always devolve into a shameful sop that I feel the need to toss in the garbage lest someone--myself included--happens across them someday. Writing this blog keeps me away from the heavy introspection of moment.
I considered giving this space up. But then I thought again, no need. I just need to be more careful to keep the good bits and avoid the rest. Unless Tom Parker Bowles or someone like him writes a book or does something that I just can't abide by. I will un-sheath the big guns then. Watch out.

Jammed Packed Week

As I mentioned yesterday, last week started off with me getting my Probationary Performance Evaluation on Monday. Monday night I stayed late at the library with the Glendale Stamp Club. This month was the club's first meeting in their new home. On Tuesday, I had the book club on Tuesday. I had another good turn out for that. Then on Wednesday afternoon I went to the charity luncheon "Smartathon". I was on the 4 person CV Library BookWorms team. My team didn't place in even the top third. We were not so boned up on general trivia. "What percentage of American never was their car?" I don't know, I guess we missed that on as well. I chose 15% over the 5% and 1% choices. It was fun, though and I look forward to next year's chance to prove that I do know a lot of useless facts.

Thursday was my day off but had to come in for a bit more than an hour for Audio Visual training. Our meeting room is kitted out with state of the art systems that we had to get taught how to use. Over the past 2 months I have been pressing buttons, hoping for the correct response and then forgetting which button got me what I wanted, thus repeating the cycle of push and hope.
Since I was on this side of of the world anyhow, I decided that I would drive over to Forest Lawn in Glendale and spend the day with dead people. It was a very relaxing and wonderful day with beautiful weather. Sometimes, the dead are just the right people for you to be around. I enjoyed walking the Labrynth, seeing the David and the Last Supper rendered in Stained Glass. Forest Lawn is more than a cemetry with a muesuem, art work and relaxing vistas.

Friday evening, I went to the local Catholic Church's fish fry. St. Clair has been hosting this charity fish fry since 1978. On Friday's during Lent, St. Clair serves up tasty fish and chips for the hungry locals. It is a community event with about 300 people in attendance. I go with Diane and her family and who ever else drops by the table.
Saturday, I took the Wheel of Reading to Two Strike Park for the annual Arbor Day celebration for the La Crescenta community. The kids love to spin the wheel for little prizes and books.
At the end of a quick 2 hours, I returned to the library, had some lunch and got ready to go up to St. Luke's to meet the Historical Society Bus Tour. We boarded the bus and was led on a two hour tour of the local historical sites in the area. I never knew so much history was packed into this valley. We were led by the local president of the Historical Society Mike Lawler who invited me along and his friend, historical film maker John Newcombe. They took us along the route to see parts of Newcombe's film Rancho Canada Then and Now. The highlight of the tour was a trip up to The Sacred Heart Academy that was bought by the Catholic Church for $120K after it failed as a hotel in the late 20's and early 30's. Overall, It was a fantastic trip and a good week. I am in love with my new community after my week of events.

The LA Flower Mart

There are times when life speeds up and events seem to domino one after the other. This Spring is shaping up to be one of those times. Monday morning I had my Probationary Performance Evaluation with my Assistant Library Administrator that retired on Friday. I passed with "always met and sometimes exceeded expectations". It is nice to be appreciated. Last Thursday, I left home at 6:00 am to get downtown for the opening at 8:00. LA Flower . I had to consider whether I wanted to try to get the flowers on Thursday morning (the flower market opens at 6 on Thursdays) for optimal freshness or on Wednesday for optimal sanity. I chose sanity over freshness. I recommend this choice. I got down to the Flower Mart, paid for parking, $3 and paid for entrance $2 and then walked into a floral wonderland. I was amazed and wanted to just browse but I remained focused because I had the Library Commission visiting my library mid-morning for a meeting. I wanted to make sure that I back to work ASAP. I quickly purchased 60 stems of peach roses, 60 stems of small chrysanthemums, and 40 stems of a small purple flower quickly fell apart but I ended up with enough for the arrangements. I also picked up some greenery and floral foam. All for around $100. I got enough flowers to make 10 regular centerpieces and one guest of honor centerpiece. I love the flower market. It is fabulous and I can't wait to go back down. However, I don't know when that will be, going down and finding my way caused more than a few honks because I was inevitably in the wrong lane and had to squeeze into the right one. And then on the way back, the normally good Glendale Freeway had a major crash and my expected 15 minutes turned into almost an hour and a half. I hate freeways. But I did arrive in time to realize that most people for the Library Commission Meeting were caught in the same traffic jam so I guess I timed the adventure right. In the afternoon, I went to Canyon Country Library to put the arrangements together.

At first I thought I was creating floral tragedies but after sizing the stems down a bit, it began to come together. The only thing I needed to do was go get some ribbon to put around the little containers I bought at the Dollar Store. I ate lunch at 6:00 pm on Wed.
Thursday was a long long day for me. I first arrived at the Canyon Country Library at 8:00 am to finish up the arrangements with ribbon and to help with getting everything in order before our 9:00 meeting. I ended up burning myself with the hot glue gun about 10 times before I successfully added the ribbon and bows. If only I had thought about this before I put everything together I would have saved myself some blisters.
The luncheon went off without a hitch. I got a lot of compliments on the flowers.

Suzanne and I coordinated our colors and decorations perfectly. After most everything was cleaned up, I took a few hours off before I headed to my library. The third Thursday of each month is both our Regional Meetings and La Crescenta Town Council. I will be forever working splits on these days. I got back to the library at about 5:00 and helped close up. Then I went upstairs to prepare the meeting room for the Town Council. I don't mind these meetings and I fully expect to be there until 10 or so. True to my expectations, I didn't get out until almost 10:30 and home until after 11:00. Thankfully Friday I was off.
I will miss my Administrator Andrea. She always offered advice and wisdom that I will take with me throughout the rest of my career. She listened to me yet also put me back in place when I needed it without too many rumpled feelings on my part. Since I am quick to react and overly sensitive although I strive quite unsuccessfully to be neither, this says a lot about her tact and skill as a mentor and supervisor. She will be greatly missed.

Committed

No not me to an psychiatric ward, although there are days that I would happily go there. That would be upgrading my desire to crawl under my desk with a bottle of booze to bouncing around a rubber room with lots of good drugs. Not a bad idea.
Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace With Marriage is Elizabeth Gilbert's new bestseller after her Eat, Pray, Love climbed the charts and optioned into a film starring Julia Roberts. I kicked off my book club in February at the library with her first title. It seemed like a suitable title for February and since it will be a movie soon, I wanted to offer it before the request list gets a mile long. Movies generate request lists. I try to push books that are coming out as movies but not on the general public radar as--Oh, I should read this.
When I initially read Eat, Pray, Love about 2 years ago, was it really that long ago? Eat, Pray, Love was a difficult read for me. Not because it was poorly written or that I didn't think that her story was a good one to tell, but because it hit too close to home. It seemed that every single flaw in her personality that she pointed out was one that I could identify with. It isn't easy reading an expose of yourself via someone else's life. I struggled through the book and in retrospect, I didn't think it was the best travelogue that I had ever read but it was the best book about me that I had ever read.


For several months Committed stared me in the face every time I went down the book aisle at Sam's Club, enticing me with the question--could this one also be about you? After the book club last month I decided to go ahead and buy the title. So I purchased it and Committed first road around in my front seat for about 2 weeks, and then sat on my desk for the next two weeks. Finally, I picked it up a few days ago because book club is tomorrow night and I wanted to give them some feedback on the new title.
Yep, she pretty much nailed me on the head again. Not that I have ever been divorced. The book is once again pretty good. I didn't find it painful to read this a time because obviously I am not in a position to get married. But for a long time now I have realized that I have a definite fear of commitment and that women with a fear of commitment act very differently from men with that fear. In a sense, Gilbert explored all those thoughts I have had kicking around in my head about marriage and relationships and why I am terrified of being trapped in one despite the contradictory urge to go out and get into one. Gilbert spent hours and hours finding the answer to all my questions. How nifty is that? I wonder which of our neuroses she will explore next? Can't wait.

Balinese not Siamese Thank You Very Much

It seems that with a little search on the Internet, I can call my mixed-tabby-black-long-hair kitties Traditional Balinese rather than Siamese. Sasha and Misha have fairly long hair and gorgeously plumed tails. Sasha is a seal point with silky creamy fur where as Misha is more elegantly darker. Misha's hair is longer but not as fluffy as Sasha's. They both have a few beigish tabby stripes on their legs and a dark spot on their tummies. Misha's tummy spot is darker. The Balinese website says "The Traditional Balinese (aka Applehead Balinese) cat combines the unique personality and intelligence, robust body type, pointed coloring, and the minimal shedding of the Traditional Siamese, with a softer voice and a silky coat." Well, Sasha has a softer voice and his coat is as soft as rabbit fur. Sasha sometimes has a whisper meow. Misha on the other hand grouses around quite a bit more like a Traditional Siamese.
The website says that Balinese are loyal and will follow you around. Yep, they do--even to the bathroom. When I take a longer than usual shower, without fail, I get a cat looking around the curtain telling me to hurry up--shouldn't waste water.
Sasha and Misha also love the computer. They have learned how to turn it on and actually know how to do things that I just don't do--like change my screen resolution for me--they like to see bigger pictures, and pause the game Bejeweled--I need the occasional pointer and tip on how to get a higher score.
Traditional Balinese used to be called Long-hair Siamese until sometime in the 50's when Californian Mary Dorsey began breeding and showing the longer haired Siamese. She decided that Balinese was more elegant and reminiscent of the lithe elegance of a Balinese Dancer. Since Sasha is my graceless wonder--I might not want to push the Balinese moniker too heavily though. Decide for yourself. Here is a photo of a Traditional Balinese.