Treasure Savannah

You're driving along, going to the beach, enjoying the breeze... and travel comes to an absolute STOP. Grumble, grumble. Then I see it! A casual glance out the window reveals a vertical rainbow, leaping amongst the clouds. Wow!

letter to an emotionally abused friend

My dearest BFF,
You had been making such progress toward autonomy, but I fear the worst over the past few days. You have so little sense of self-worth, though all who know you think you are poised and beautiful and strong and smart. I do wish you could see yourself through our eyes, but that is a very difficult thing which few of us are able to master for any extended period of time.
The man you thought your soulmate has wounded you emotionally yet again. That's right, AGAIN. If this were the first time, given your love of him, then forgiveness would certainly be a plausible direction to take. After about two years, the trust you once had in him might have been restored, if you both had worked hard, him to earn your trust, you to truly forgive him and leave the hurt in the past. You know this to be true, you and he have already had this experience in regaining what was lost.
And now, this is yet another time that this person has betrayed your trust in him, that he has abused your love, that he has hurt your soul. This time was different, though. This time, you caught him and he did not know his betrayal had been discovered. This time, you had ample opportunity to rally your friends, your family, your support group, to your side. This time, you were able to set plans in motion, plans to protect your children, your home, your financial well-being, with him blithely unaware. This time, you could monitor his actions, gathering information for lawyers to use on your behalf. This time, you even took that first step with a lawyer to separate yourself from the abuser.
Then he calls and you go silent on your support network, preferring his lies to our truths. He says he has forsaken his mistress of the past two years to return to your side - and you believe him. When you do allow us to to know what is happening, we urge you to be cautious, to learn from the mistakes of ourselves, our friends, our family members. More silence from you as you meet him for lunch, for dinner, alone, none of your support group to keep a watchful eye.
Your teenaged son, what is he to make of this? Remember how hard you and his father were on him when you found out he was having sex? What lesson is this that you are now teaching him? Go ahead, do whatever you want to whoever you want? It's okay to abuse others?
Your teenaged daughter, new to the dating rituals, what is she to make of your actions? Are repeated immoral acts and emotional abuse to be repeatedly forgiven and allowed? How is she to learn to trust the boys she dates when she cannot even trust her father to respect and stay true to her mother?
I have wept so much for you these past few weeks, but I cannot make your choices for you. And I do fear what those choices might be, have been, and how they will hurt you in the future.
Know this: I still love you. And I will go by my dear Mama's advice: I may not always agree with your choices, but I will always support YOU.
Please, trod carefully. Your heart is not the only one trampled by his selfish and careless acts.
wmla.

Treasure Savannah

Did yyou hear that??? That SMACK as leather ball meets wooden bat, that soft whoosh through the air! Watch the red dust as the batter streaks toward first base! Oh, yes!!!
My boys of summer, the glorious Sand Gnats, have their first game on April 7th, but in West Virginia. I'll have to be patient and wait eight days for their first home game. Come on, April 15th, you're more than a tax deadline to ME!

turtles

five countries in 24 hours!

Okay, I may have exaggerated just a little about the time factor, but not much. Last night, I attended the 6:30 pm screening of a Swedish film, "The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets' Nest", as part of the PFS Film Festival at Muse Arts Warehouse. (I actually arrived circa 6:55 pm, but, as good luck would have it, the film had just started its opening credits. Hence, as you will see, the fudge factor on 24 hours.)
The film had English subtitles so we could follow along and I discovered something startling: I had absolutely NO IDEA what they were saying. None! Usually, I can at least partially match up the spoken dialogue with the subtitles in a variety of languages (Spanish, French, Italian, German), but I was stumped for Swedish. It was as if I had been dropped off in that land strange to me and was forced to rely on a translator to make my way. Still, "tack" PFS for that introduction!
After the film, I left Sweden and went in search of more familiar territory... and found it at Bonefish Grill. I had a gift card for that restaurant and was itching to use it! Noel started me off with fresh, warm bread and a plate of herbed olive oil for dipping. Ah, Italia! Grazie tanto!
Then, suddenly, I was transported back in time and geography to the early 1980's and Okinawa. The Ahi Tuna Sashimi had arrived! Lovely, lovely, lovely! Seared on the outside, rolled in pepper and sesame seeds, then sliced into rosy-faced circlets of firm, tasty flesh. As always, served with wasabi and pickled ginger, to spice up and then cleanse the palate. This also included a spicy chili scribble and a bangbang drizzle to change up this dish just a bit. Domo Arigato!
And now it was time to dip towards the equator and a cooler treat: ceviche! Now it was the late 1970's and I was in Panama, being introduced to Corvina Seviche, served in large brandy glasses with saltine crackers alongside. The variation last night had freshly toasted tortilla chips, nicely crunchy. I ate every last drop of the seafood, using a spoon to make sure I had plenty of the finely diced onions and lime juice for every bite. Muchas gracias para los recuerdos!
Sated, I wended my way home and settled in for the evening. Ah, nothing like a trip away from home to refresh the senses!
Then, this evening, REEL Savannah had brought to town a brand-new film from Poland, "Wonderful Summer". So, at 6:50 pm, I was in the theatre waiting for it to begin. (Whew! Just in the 24-hour timeframe!) As I had been married to a half-Polish man for a decade and a half, I had thought I would be able to catch at least a few of the words as they were uttered; sadly, no. Apparently, I only speak Polish food: kielbasa, kapusta, pierogi, golumpki, nalesniki. None of those were mentioned, so I allowed myself to once again to transported into the heart of a foreign land while I depended on subtitles to guide my journey. And what a wonderful, sweet journey it was, following a young woman through her first romance and job search. Thank you, REEL Savannah!

trapped in kelly's closet!

Wow! Thanks to Jim Reed and his glorious Psychotronic Film Society's Film Festival, I have enjoyed a new musical!!! Seriously, I adore musicals and R. Kelly's "Trapped In The Closet", which I had not even HEARD OF until this week, is fabulous! Originally released in two parts, the first twelve chapters in 2005, followed in 2007 by another ten chapters, the film festival brought the combined version to the big screen at Muse Arts Warehouse tonight.
Sure, it was campy, but no more so than any soap opera on television now or in the past. I suspect R. Kelly is a BIG soap opera addict, much like my bird and Chris Rock's dad and who knows how many straight men. That's right, I said it: STRAIGHT MEN. Hell, I'm talking straight BLACK men. Who knew? And R. Kelly positively revels in it, with trite dialogue, a narrator who tells us way too much trivial stuff ("and now she's wiping her nose"), and characters in and out of bed in a dizzying series of affairs. Hilarious!! Smart, too, demanding that you pay attention or run the risk of not knowing who's zoomin' who... and THAT would be a shame!
Mind you, I'm terribly keen on "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog", another modern musical. I am so very keen on that musical that I purchased three - yes! three!!! - copies when it first emerged on dvd. You see, it was released on the world wide web, one episode at a time, keeping its fans glued to their computers in anticipation of the finale!!! Well, maybe not quite so dramatic, but pretty darn close. So, I can now easily watch it whenever, and I gave a copy to one of my nephews for Christmas two years ago and he LOVED it, and I have one more which will be bestowed to another nephew for his birthday. Oh, yes!

can't have it all

"You can't have everything, where would you put it?" So says Lemmy Kilmister. Only he says it quickly, all run together, in a deep gravelly voice, no punctuation in evidence. You can tell it's one of his pet expressions, sort of an inside joke with himself. Every time he says it in the documentary, it's as an offhand remark after he has answered some other question... but I could tell he was waiting for a reaction from the questioner, an acknowledgement of the line.
I used to trot a very similar line out myself, but haven't for years. Usually, it was in response to someone complaining about not having some superfluous material thing or impractical gadget. "You can't have it all," I would quip, "where would you put it?" An exasperated glare was generally the response I received. Come to think of it, I pretty much haven't said it for quite a few years, as I got a bit tired of the evil-eye.
Still, with Lemmy, you could tell he'd been shooting that line out for a long time and would continue to do so, whether anyone paid attention or not. And, with Lemmy, it was a bit odd to hear him say it after you had just seen his extensive collection of knives and his collection of figurines in his image and his collection of... Well, you get the picture. Definitely an inside joke for a man who has, for the majority of his 65 years, lived the dream life he had wanted as a young man.
Sure, he discovered many years ago that he was losing his quick touch on the strings of his beloved bass and found the cure to be amphetamines, a solution he does not recommend as he "has known too many who died from this lifestyle". In fact, Lemmy makes a point of saying he doesn't want to glorify his lifestyle of drinking hard liquor, generous use of speed, and near-constant cigarette smoking. How refreshing for a rocker to acknowledge that he has made wrong choices, even when he still chooses to continue in his admittedly bad habits. That reminded me of one of my brothers, who has lived on the fringe of "socially acceptable" for many years, but is, nonetheless, a good man. He hasn't made the choices most of us make, but that doesn't make him bad. If he was in the entertainment business, as Lemmy is, my brother would simply be regarded as "living the eccentric lifestyle".
Lemmy is shown to be a gruff man, almost ageless, in his trademark black hat and custom-made boots. He speaks his mind, using a range of words that make many outside the rock music business cringe. But his gruffness is on the surface, hiding the caring, careful heart beneath. When asked what is his most treasured possession in the room, Lemmy answers, without a moment's pause, "my son" - who happened to be sitting there on the couch. An amazing response to the interviewer, amazing also to the son, but certainly not amazing to the man himself. Lemmy spoke his heart. That also describes my brother: caring and giving to those he knows, not caring what strangers might think of his words or actions. That can, and has been, a roadblock in his career, as most work situations demand a set method of dealing with and responding to the actions of others. Strange how the world works, isn't it?