In and Out of Focus

I am now officially old. When I went to the eye doctor last week she suggested reading glasses. In addition to my regular bifocals.

I've worn glasses since 6th grade and am legally blind without them. But lately I've noticed a hard time reading. I thought it was the bifocals and the fact that I need to hold both the book and my head in this perfect alignment of planets in order to see the pages. But no, turns out I need reading glasses too.

To save money I just brought in a pair of old frames and asked them to put new lenses in. So today they were ready and I now have the problem of switching between two pairs of glasses. I refuse to become one of those crazy old ladies with pearl glasses holders and eyeglasses hanging down her bosom. But I'm not sure how to live with the two pairs.

I can read with my regular glasses, so I don't need to carry two pairs, luckily. But for long reads, I guess I'll just have to get used to putting on the new specs and taking off the old ones...and remembering where the bifocals are because I can't see very well with the reading glasses beyond a foot or so.

When I tried them on in the doctor's office my first thought was "they gave me the wrong glasses." Everything was fuzzy. But then the guy handed me a card with writing on it and the world became clear. Vivid. Wildly vivid. Suddenly words on a page were jumping out at me as if animated.

I predict a series of headaches while I get used to them. First off looking at a book is now like looking at something under a microscope -- it's so clear and perfect that it almost hurts the brain. Too much stimulation. Plus whenever I look away, I can't see a damned thing. But I think it'll be nice to go back to marathon, multi-hour reading sessions without feeling like I need a magnifying glass.

Yeah, I'm old. But it's better than the alternative.

In other news I went to the local Apple store and found out that it will cost over my limit to get my laptop fixed. Before going in I decided if it cost over "X" then I'd just bite the bullet and get a new one. So I'm getting a new one. Luckily I have many friends who work there who can get me their discount, so within the next week I expect to be a technocrat again. It's been lovely of Husband to let me use his, but I want my own back.

Tonight's Playlist

Just home from KZSU and my weekly world music radio show. For those who are interested, tonight's playlist is now available on Zookeeper our online music database.

I was all over the map, as usual, tonight. Everything from Duke Ellington to the latest from Rachid Taha. From 101-year old ukulele master Bill Tapia, to fairly new on the scene artists such as Yuka Ito.

And remember you can always listen to my show live via the wonder of the Internet from 6-9 pm (Pacific) on Tuesday nights.

Patricia Neal

I was saddened today to learn of the death of actress Patricia Neal. In spite of her Academy Award for Hud she always struck me as sadly underused and under-recognized. She didn't have the typical leading lady beauty, although I think she was a gorgeous woman with an outrageously sexy voice. She's one of those actors that I wish had made more movies.

She had a tough life and her career was sadly shortened by a series of strokes. But in every movie she did she left a stamp of quality.

I loved her toughness and the underlying sweetness she seemed to bring to every role. In In Harm's Way she plays a military nurse dealing with personal problems and WWII. And she acts rings around poor John Wayne who plays John Wayne. She's so subtle and quiet in the face of his cowboy persona it's easy to overlook just how little work she's doing (in a good way). She manages to be strong enough that you believe her as a woman of force in a man's world, but you also see the compassion and soft heart. And in almost every role there's this little twinkle that seems to say she knows more than everyone else, but she's not telling.

I admire'd her talent and her courage. Coming back from one stroke is hard enough. She came back from three, learning how to walk and speak again and even pursuing acting roles in the face of setbacks that would have ended most careers. And in everything she did, even crappy guest appearances on Murder She Wrote she was shining.

Thank you, Ms. Neal, for your graciousness and talent. You will be missed.

Photo of the day: Coco

This is Coco, a member of our tiniest litter. Coco and her sister, Cream, weigh in at about half a pound and are doing quite nicely, thank you. The only photos I have on Husband's computer are the kitten pictures I took at the nursery today so I decided to share one with you. Coco is a total charmer and will be quite a handful once she's bigger. She's just starting to explore a bit and do more than just eat and sleep. Today she wandered all over the table, played with her first pipe cleaner, and managed to jump (not fall) onto my lap.

Techno'd Out
My laptop has died a sad and tragic end. It's been fading for a while, the screen occasionally turning itself into what looks like a barcode. Yesterday I tried (rather stupidly as it turns out) to update the software and it didn't come back. So don't expect much from me for a few days. I'm typing this on Husband's computer but I don't like to use his. We also have a desktop, but I'm spoiled and like to be curled up on the sofa while I'm working. Anyway, I'm not sure how much posting I'll be doing for a bit. I can't go cold turkey...and we can't afford a new laptop so I guess I'll have to get over my laziness and actually move into the office and dust off the desktop for a bit. And use Husband's when he's not busy.

In Praise of Volunteering

As regular readers know, I volunteer at a local animal shelter. But it's not my first volunteer gig. I've had a history going back a while, mostly in AIDS organizations. But I've also volunteered at a local museum, doing writing/editing for a few non-profits, picking up trash, delivering meals, and various other positions.

In my case I am unemployed by choice. When I got fed up working for an international fruit-named high tech company, I knew I wanted a complete change. And here I am. Broke and loving it. Of course I couldn't do this if it weren't for the support (both emotional and monetary) of my wonderful Husband. But even when I was working full time I made sure to give back to the world. Sure back then I wrote more checks and logged fewer volunteer hours. But I suppose I've always wanted to be one of the good guys.

The one thing that never fails to amaze me is how hard people will work for no money. Those of us who work at the shelter do it because we love animals and we want to help them. Many of my fellow volunteers have been there for over ten years. This marks my third summer there and I can't imagine ever giving it up. The volunteers there do everything from the easy (playing with cats, taking dogs for a walk) to the hard (maintenance work, fence building, laundry, carrying 50 lb. sacks of food around). They give freely of their time and normally work longer and harder than they need to.

We occasionally get free cookies and leftover pizza, but other than that our only pay is in purrs and licks. And the satisfaction of seeing an animal find a home. And every time I get tired and think I've put in enough time, there's always someone there whose been there longer who makes me want to stay so I can be just like them.

Organizations like the one I work with wouldn't exist without volunteers. There's no way these groups could afford the salary to hire the workers necessary to do all we do. In this case, they certainly wouldn't be a no-kill shelter. Problem dogs and cats would most likely be euthanized rather than given special attention. So, in many ways, we save lives when we go in and do what we do.

I've often said this is the best paying non-paying job I've ever had. Sure I hate being broke. And I feel bad because I'd like Husband to have an easier life and would like someday to afford our own house. But right now I wouldn't change a thing. I don't need 20 pairs of shoes or a new car (OK, maybe I'll need one soon. Mine is 12 years old with 170,000 miles on it.) I'd rather do without than do without the care I can give to these critters in search of a home.

So to all of you who volunteer, thank you. You make miracles happen. You keep the world fed, cared for, and loved. You inspire me. And I want to be just like you when I grow up.

Photo of the day: HItting the Bricks

The walkway of a neighbor's house is brick. For some reason, I liked the pattern. Yeah, I'm weird.

Photo of the day: Hold the Olive

Come to think of it, hold the martini too. I'll have a margarita.

Rivalries

Husband went to Stanford. I've always been a Stanford fan and have been a Stanford radio DJ for going into my 11th year now.

My ex-husband, with whom I am still friends, went to Cal. Through him I met the people who went on to become my dearest friends. They also went to Cal. Of our book group, five members went to Cal.

Out here, the Stanford vs. Cal rivalry is long-standing and heated. It got me wondering why. How do rivalries get started? Of all the schools they play against, when Stanford is against Cal in anything, the crowds get wild.

Today I went to see the eye doctor, a Cal grad. Last year was my first visit to her and we got to talking about schools. She, as a joke, actually put it in my patient file that she would only agree to treat me if I promised not to wear a Stanford Cardinal sweatshirt when I came in for visits. Her assistant brought up my file and asked me to look it over to make sure everything was still correct and it's in the "special notes" area. I laughed at that.

I'm a huge SF Giants fan and love to attend their games. But the games against the LA Dodgers get especially heated. Chants of "Beat LA! Beat LA!" echo throughout AT&T Park. On game day, if you buy a soda, it comes in special "Beat LA" cups that are only used when they play the Dodgers. And I find it funny that it seems more important to the crowds that the Giants play well against LA. I mean games against, say, the San Diego Padres are equally important in the pennant race -- yet not as emotionally charged.

Perhaps it's part of the whole SF vs. LA thing. Those of us who were born and raised in Northern California will never accept that LA is anything other than a smog-filled, traffic-choked pit.

One other interesting division, though, is the use of the word "the." There's some sort invisible north vs. south thing when it comes to freeways. If you are on highway 101 up here that's what you say "I'll be taking 101 up to Marin County." But somewhere around, say, King City, a "the" gets added. "I'll be taking the 101 down to San Diego."

We don't need no stinkin' "the."

Photo of the day: A Completely Different Flower

I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. This is not the same flower as yesterday. I chose this one because I love how the little bits in the middle (I never took botany) are all highlighted like they're at attention or something.

Photo of the day: Cactus Flower

The only plant I've never managed to kill. A cactus. This one used to be in the house but when we got Cipher we decided to put the prickly things outside. It's been out there for nearly four years and finally flowered. Yes, it really is this color.

Where'd it go?

Cipher (The World's Most Amazing Cat, Screw You if You Don't Agree tm) is not the most intellectual of cats. Face it, as much as we might love the beasts, cats are not known for their deductive reasoning. They rarely solve mysteries or debate foreign policy. They are smart enough to be cats and figure out things like killing empty toilet paper rolls, but sometimes higher concepts defeat them.

Gravity is one of those concepts that cats don't seem to grasp, and Cipher is very much symptomatic of this failure.

One of her favorite things to do is knock items off of tables and then wonder where they've gone.

Her favorite target is books and since both Husband and I are voracious readers, she has plenty of game. She loves to jump onto the coffee table and bat with intense concentration at a paperback. Then when she finally manages to knock it onto the floor she looks completely mystified. "Hey," she seems to express, "it was here a minute ago!" She'll look at us with a "where is it?" expression and a few moments later appears to be extremely surprised when she jumps off the table and finds a book on the floor.

I usually have three or four books on the nightstand next to the bed and they plague her in the middle of the night. Suddenly she just can't stand it any longer and she'll walk over me to knock one of the offending books onto the floor. That'll teach it. Then, having disposed of another book and completely perplexed as to where the damn thing went, she'll walk back over me and settle at the foot of the bed once more, no doubt to meditate on the amazing disappearing book.

Photo of the day: Celtic in Colma

I love the design of this carving, which I find to be both elegant and simple.

Scenes from Silver Creek: The Girl Who Was Lost

Silver Creek was, and is, a safe town. Growing up we had little crime, and what there was wasn’t serious. Cars being broken into. A little vandalism. That sort of thing. But in 1976 we had a murder. And it hit pretty close to home.

Paula Bradley was only two years ahead of me in high school. She was a cheerleader and sang alto in the choir. She lived two blocks away on Alder Street and I used to see her in the evenings walking a very yappy beagle.
She dated the brother of my best friend, Sean. She was whatever the female equivalent of an Eagle Scout was and every year my family bought Thin Mints from her.

She had long brown hair, parted in the middle, and so straight it looked like she ironed it in the morning. She had blue eyes and a small constellation of freckles on her cheeks. She collected blown glass animals and shy male admirers. And when she sneezed it sounded like a cartoon character.

Paula was one of five girls of similar appearance who was killed between 1975 and 1977. She was last seen leaving choir practice at school and was found three days later in what was then an empty field behind the local Mormon church.

Back then there was more privacy for grief. The news didn’t push microphones into the faces of devastated parents, and the papers didn’t publish all the grisly details. All we knew was that Paula was dead and we were stunned.

Silver Creek High was small enough that pretty much everyone knew her, at least by sight. So we shared a quiet, shocked sorrow that, in retrospect, caused irreparable changes in my town. We didn’t have grief counselors back then, no canceling of classes for the day while we dealt with the news. In fact there wasn’t even an official announcement. It was just a word whispered between classes in increasingly quiet hallways. I’m sure the parents knew a lot more than they told any of us – but we who knew her, even slightly, were kept mostly in the dark.

There was no public assembly. No huge, publicized funeral. Those who were close friends went to a service – those who were merely acquaintances stayed away because it seemed intrusive back then to go to the funeral of someone you barely knew. Back then sorrow required a degree of familiarity. Today if someone in a high school dies the entire school, whether acquainted or not, shows up in some TV-covered service; usually wearing homemade buttons with photos of the deceased. But in 1976 it wasn’t seen as support for the family, it was seen as mere vulgar curiosity to attend unless you were related or deeply close.

So we had no acknowledgement of her. She was a solo photo on the back page of the 1976 yearbook. The only “official” sign of her loss at school was a dramatically empty chair in the alto section at the year-end choir concert. And by silent agreement of the manners of the mid-sixties, she was a subject you didn’t talk about because it was scary or rude or mean.

She was, both physically and emotionally, lost.

But she was never really forgotten. And her killer was never found.

Photo of the day: William

William. A big name for a little kitten. William the Conquerer. William Shakespeare. And William the kitten.

Little William's had a rough start. Fleas and a cold. But one of our dedicated volunteers has taken him to foster in her home and I'm glad to say he's doing much better and is, apparently, terrorizing one of her adult cats.

Photo of the day: Oreo

Not an artistic photo, by any means, but this is my friend Oreo. I had no idea volunteering at the shelter would make me fall in love with so many species. The kittens were extra cute today, but Oreo just makes me smile.

CD Pick of the week: Amira

Check out this week's CD Pick. Zumra by singer Amira Medunjanian and accordionist Merima Klujuco playing gorgeous Bosnian folk music. Amira has an angelic voice – rich, soaring, and passionate. The music is full of emotion and tradition yet is never boring or predictable. This duo can make you cry. Wonderful stuff, every track. Wildly evocative & dramatic. Holy cats!

Me and the Pig
I've never been personally acquainted with a pig before. Now I am. He's a sweet black and white (and pink) guy who comes trotting over to see me whenever I walk over. And I walk over every time I'm at the shelter now. He heaves himself up from his favorite corner in the shade and comes to the front of the little barnyard area. Then he pushes his black snout through the fence and snuffles at my hand.

I'm not sure of his name, but he's incredibly friendly and my new best friend. He must weigh close to 200 pounds, so we're not talking about one of those adorable mini-pigs. And I never thought I'd be a pig fan, but he has such a wonderful personality and always seems so happy to see me. Of course I'm not kidding myself, it's not me he's happy to see, but anybody. But I like to pretend it's me and that he recognizes me. He gets so excited he taps his little feet on the straw, like a little happy dance.

So the upshot is I have a new friend. And the downside is, I'll never eat pork again.

Photo of the day: The chocolate Tribe

One of our litters is named after candy. He have Milky Way, Mars, Cadbury, Baby Ruth, and Snickers. This little guy is Cadbury. He Ioves to snuggle has has a HUGE explorer steak that makes him wonder off of tables and across the nest of unsuspecting volunteers. Hes a wriggle demon with huge eyes and a totally compelling purr and I'm going to miss him when he goes into the adoption areaa.

Photo of the day: Mysterious in Blue

No clue what we're looking at, I just liked these mysterious blue globes; Whatever they were, the photographer in me couldn't resist.