WOW!!

I just spent a bit too much time looking at videos and reading articles about the spacecraft that is up circling Pluto's moon, Charon. Absolutely fascinating... so much so that I know I started when there was sunlight shining in my window... now it is dead dark... ye gods... it is after 9:00pm! 'Wired' magazine has put all its articles online, along with all sorts of videos and scientific notes written so that I and a lot of other non-scientists can understand them. I love it. I'm hooked. I'll be there tomorrow and probably a lot of other days to see everything the experts are finding and trying to explain to us 'others.' How I wish I had a telescope to look at some of the planets... of course, with all the lights we have in San Francisco, it might be hard to look at anything but our own moon. I miss seeing Orion, the one constellation I could always see wen I was a kid, looking up at the stars. 

One of my favorite things to do at the cottage was to take a blanket down to the beach and make a little nest by the tree roots of the big trees on either side of the path... and lie there watching for 'shooting stars.' One was supposed to make a wish on one of those... wonder what I wished for... that I have forgotten. I miss those lovely long summers at the lake... I miss my beautiful carved wood Victorian bed that Mama threw out, so Jess took it, along with all the other stuff Mama got tired of, up to the cottage. I think I could do a complete drawing of every room in that cottage... the only place I have ever considered really 'home.' Funny... the apartment I live in now I have been in for about the same number of years I spent summers in the cottage... 18 years. When we all went off to college and various other places, Mama sold the cottage... signing Jessie's name, for it belonged to my mother, not to that mean old witch who was my grandmother, who had always hated the fact that we preferred the cottage to her. Well, the apartment is/was nice and kinda 'home' for about 17 years, but things change and we have new 'management,' all the people I knew here in SF are dead... and it is no longer home... simply a place for me to exist until I die, I suppose... god, I feel like I'm in a Trenet song... and very much alone.

Ah well... Great voyage little spacecraft... you are doing a wonderful job at letting us see almost close-up what other planets and moons are like. Thanks to all the scientists who are bringing us this exciting info. At least I lived long enough to see little Charon close up on my computer.

Ye Gods....

Yeah, it's me being snarky... but I just couldn't resist. Vogue magazine can manage to turn me snarky any time I look at it online... the 'interviews' by one of their editors of people at the Met Gala are among the most hysterical things online... "I LLLOOOVVVEE your outfit!! Who made it?! ADDOOORable!!!" (Barf, barf!!!!!) "Oh is Beyonce here yet?!!!"  (Double barf... she's wearing that naked lace thingy... I think they did a special article on what to wear under it........).

And then of course, a photo of Buce Jenner, pardon me, Caitlan Jenner on Vogue.com -- he had better stick to the cute curled up sitting down Vanity Fair style photos. Standing up, surrounded by at least three short men with their arms out to catch him in case he falls off the high heels, he is the joke of the century. The short skirted outfit doesn't help either. he may have had his face and neck resculpted, but he can't hide the HUGE paws clutching the evening bag and the straight legs and big feet... pure man. Even the belt placed up on the chest just looks uncomfortable. Maybe he should start dressing like Lady Gaga to hide all the faults, or at least not try to look so damned 'ladylike'... a few long dresses, sandals might help... but going overboard to look 'dainty' is not the way for him to go. Pardon me... as with Vogue, I should be more polite and say 'the way for her to go.' Dainty ain't it. Well, he does refer to himself as a 'girl' so maybe he is also trying to be terribly young again too, which is hard to do at his advanced age... but dressing a little more age appropriately might help her look also. When you are a grandmother, you should try for a little less 'youth' look. All I can say is, "Grandmother, what big hands you have..."

Finally... Something to Write About

I just watched the US Soccer Team win the FIFA title in a GREAT game against Japan. They lost in a terrible game last time, so this was an even better evening game, as they played so well... making THREE goals FAST... then another, making it 4-nil... then missing one to Japan in the first half. They made another goal in the second half, but so did Japan, but what a game!!! 5-2 the final score. Carli Lloyd made those first two... then a third goal and a new record for a championship game getting a hat trick.  They all... both sides... played so well, it was a joy to watch. Those first two goals were so fast... fastest ever in a championship game... both of them. Carli must be overjoyed.

I am fond of watching male soccer, and watched the FIFA games this year, but I will say that this game was more exciting than any of them in the men's championship. I will never understand how those kids can stay on their feet running so fast and turning so fast... and kicking so hard. Just amazing... and it is THE BEAUTIFUL GAME! I loved every minute of it... and was exhausted when it was finished... just from watching all the great work they did. God... I have to get my strength back. If I keep having to go down to the Apple Store for lessons, I just may... it's a long walk down to where a cab can pull in on Market.

Oops... "60 Minutes" is on... must go watch that now. Guess cheese and crackers will be my 'dinner' tonight, as there is a lot of stuff on KQED right after 60.

Still Wondering

I just had an email from my son. I have been very, very, VERY lonely of late, kinda particularly during about the last couple of months and since I rarely hear anything from any of my family anymore, I wrote him a sad little letter about my feelings. Mistake. He simply said I had lots of friends... and even a blog, so I must have lotsa friends because of that. What a laugh... this is my little letter to myself... no one else ever sees it or reads it. I have like two or three comments... all from my oldest nephew, who apparently does read it once in awhile. He's the ONLY one. I guess I only write it because I don't have any Kirkie to write to anymore... he won't answer, so why write. So I write to myself about little things like the fact that my kids are strangers now... my own fault, as they both remind me interminably... you wanted to go to CA, where we will never go, as we hate it and it is a long way away. So, just sit back, Peggy and enjoy the nice cool weather, with a couple of warm days every now and then... in a beautiful,  breezy place where  you can breathe without an inhaler, never have another attack of asthma... wear the same kind of clothes all year long... never have a coat, unless maybe a rain coat if it ever starts raining again... and go out and sit and have lunch in the garden with Gloria once in awhile. I miss Bud and Al... and Al Bear and Jane and all the other Fromm people... and reading to each other... and  the poets and all the people who have disappeared to die on me. Even the dear little girl who handled all the business at the 3-Day Novel writing contest has moved on to another job.... Melissa. Amazing, I can still remember some names... although that was always my worst problem... I wonder if it was because my mother could remember everyone's name... was I just reacting against that? Some names are engraved on my brain... I will never forget Leo Burnett, as I loved him so much... or Ned Travis, the same... but about half the people I worked with/for have disappeared from my memory... except in little snatches when something reminds me of them. A bell ring, a taste of pizza, a whiff of perfume... and back they all come... good lord, I have known so many people... and until the last couple of years, I could remember about half of them... but they are all fading out without the reminders. What was the name of that secretary who worked for that dreadful man who thought up 'great books' who used to douse herself in perfume before she went home? Marshall hated that as much as I did and wanted me to tell her... I told him to do it himself and he was furious about that. I do wish I could remember all of them... but what does it matter now, except that if I get back to my writing about them, it would help if I could remember their names.

Enough, enough, Peg... you have nattered along enough for tonight... take your damned pills, go to the john and go to bed. I do hope I have enough kitty food for Sunday... Ana can run over on Monday and get more... she felt she should get some... she knows better how much Sylvia can eat... and Sylvia has been eating like a horse again... both kinds of food.  Wow... I have a weird cramping of my left hand... it pulls my fingers apart into a Vulcan salute... so strange, as it is now hard to do that with my right hand. God, why must I get old.... why can't I just die like everyone else?

Goodbye Again.... John Hartford

I just spent almost the entire day saying goodbye again to a dear friend I lost exactly 14 years ago, John Hartford. Started yesterday morning when I was packing up the last of some old posters and I found John's picture... complete with his careful signature in the elegant writing style he so loved doing. Looked very like the John Hancock signature. John didn't write his poetry on a computer or a typewriter, but on those cards he carried around in his pocket. The house in Tennessee his children have kept up in his honor is full of John's lovely poetry, not as elegantly written as that signature, but in his very readable handwriting. I have managed to rid myself of some of my beloved books, but I shall die owning the little volume of John's poetry... and hope that someone else loves it enough to read it and keep it forever. 

His wonderful song "Gentle On My Mind" is his poem only John Hartford could have set to music and sung so beautifully that many others, even Sinatra, tried to sing it. No one sang it like John... I weep through it every time I hear him do it... it has an added meaning to me, for those feelings I gave to K, though I doubt that he understands that. I am so glad of one thing... someone, I suppose his children, got John to record himself playing and singing a great many of his songs, so that he will be well remembered by those of us who loved him... and the next generation and more will be able to see and hear one of the most versatile writers and musicians of my generation... a man who could not only write great 'folk songs' for us all, but could also sing them with gusto. Who could clog dance while doing so and playing them on any stringed instrument made. Who could play the fiddle with such ability to make you weep, then turn it down to strum it like his guitar, bow still in his hand. What a joy you were, John Hartford. I loved you and I miss you, a real 'only in America' gentleman, who loved his land. One of the greatest real folk singer/songwriters of our time, a true friend, an artist of so many talents and an under-appreciated musical genius.

New 'Grandchild'... and New Computer

Oh, god, I am SO glad I live in California, earthquakes and everything... but NO tornadoes or snow or floods, etc., etc. Well, we are now praying for rain, less wind and a little warm up from our 'cool' weather, which would probably be considered warm back East. Constant 'low 60s' is cool here with the big wind, and a lot cooler after the sun goes down.

Anyway... that is not what I am writing about. I now belong to a podcast group and at the last meeting I said jokingly, "Boy, I wish I had a grandchild here in town to help me figure out how to put my podcasting equipment together and get rid of some stuff on my computer that is bothering me." But I was in luck... a dear young Irish kid offered to play grandchild and come to my apartment and help with everything. Yep, he showed up the next day, complete with all his luggage, as he was leaving for Ireland after working on my computer. And work he did -- helped me a LOT... and is a really fun kid. I am lucky in my friends... and I am sure Mark Moriarty will be a good friend for a long time when he gets back in town... I hope soon.

Then, on Saturday, I went down to the Apple Store and bought a new MacBook Pro laptop computer, which I will need for my podcast, as I will have to take it out of here for the readings, as Larry is allergic to cats. Poor Sylvia was crushed when he rejected her, but she was very pleased with Mark coming to visit. She does love young men... thank goodness he is used to cats and was lovely to her. With the computer I bought a year of weekly one-on-one meetings to help me with the computer and any app on the computer. So I signed up for "Garage Band" half-hour meeting on the 19th at 10":30am... I do HOPE I can figure it out... and will have as many lessons as it takes. I am determined to get on air.

Love Affair, the film..... or was it 'Our Love Affair?"

Saturday night I watched this film on our PBS station (we have 'movie night' on Saturday), mainly because it was on. Why they did the remake, I do not know... I think I remember the first. This remake with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr was hysterically 'old fashioned' and rather silly. The main reason was because dear old 'upper-class' Deborah seemed to obviously feel that she should not be working with Archie Leach, a lower class type. Such amusing 'love' scenes, where as he seemed to be coming in for a kiss, she pulled her head to the side and he got a quick hug, with the look of disdain. Through the whole thing good old Deborah played like the posh upper-class English LADY, putting up with having to work with this dreadful 'Archie Leach' character. And oh, the scenes where she is 'directing' the children singing... waving her hands up and down... silly!

I LOVED Cary Grant. He was the George Clooney of his day... a gorgeous man who looked quite posh to me, and I suppose to most of the American public. He had lost all his low-class tumbler talk and attitude. He wore clothes well and acted like he was born to be aristocracy. But during this film, Deborah seemed to feel she was the elegant, intellectual, charming lady... so why on earth did they force her to put up with this rather minor peasant. There wasn't even a kiss at the end... just good old Debbie letting that man put his cheek next to her lovely, luscious cheek while she intoned the final lines of something like, "Well, if you can sing, I can walk, my darling" all eyes shiny with Hollywood tears.

How dare she... Cary Grant might have come to this country as part of a tumbling act, or something like it, but he turned into the most gorgeous, suave leading man in Hollywood... like a man born to be not only Hollywood aristocracy, but genuine aristocracy. When given the right leading lady (like Kate Hepburn) he was great and stayed that way until he tired of acting and went to work for a cosmetics company. I saw him years ago... an old man with white hair and he was still the most beautiful man I have ever seen. He saw me gasping and pointing and laughed and waved. Kind, too.