GO ARIZONA!!!!

I’m a legal American citizen and I must show my ID when:
1.  Pulled over by the police.

2.  Making purchases on my department store credit card.

3.  When I show up for a doctor’s appointment.
4.  When filling out a credit card or loan application.
5.  When applying for or renewing a driver’s license or passport.
6.  When applying for any kind of insurance.
7.  When filling out college applications.
8.  When donating blood.
9.  When obtaining certain prescription drugs.

10.  When making some debit purchases, especially

if I’m out of state.

11. When collecting a boarding pass for airline or train travel.

I’m sure there are more instances, but the point is that we citizens of the  USA  are required to prove who we are nearly every day!

Why should people in this country illegally, be exempt!!!!!

Why shouldn’t we guard our borders as closely as every other country in the world does?
Go ARIZONA !!!

NEEDED A BOOST: WENT TO SALVATION ARMY: What I got and what I heard

I was feeling low this afternoon… job woes (never mind), so I went out of the subway exit that comes up by the door to the Salvation Army Thrift Store (Sallie’s).  I just felt like there would be something there that would make me happy for cheap.  It only took me 45 minutes to come up with a blue silk broadcloth August Silk “shirt jacket” (I only just noticed that it was not a baggy shirt when I got it home and saw the seam pockets), a black DKNY cotton shirt, and a cool patchwork ?silk? cotton? Travelsmith jacket. (it annoys me when people cut the tags out of their clothes. I mean, I understand that the tags might bother them, or they don’t want you do see what size they wear, but it makes it problematic after they donate those clothes and I have to deal with the aftermath: what fabric? how to clean it?)

Today was Family Day at Sallie’s, so everything, except things with blue price tags, was half price.  That is the sign to hunt up everything except blue tags.  I usually hunt up everything that looks good to me, try it all on, and then start eliminating.  Today, I got the DKNY shirt for $1.50,  and the August Silk shirt for $2.00.  Can’t complain there!  The Travelsmith jacket had a blue tag, so I had to pay full price – $6.99.  Never mind! I got everything for $10 and change.

A true happy ending. I’m in financial straits right now, and should not be shopping for anything but basic food items, but I was able to make myself happy for less than the price off a pound of organic raw almonds. (yeah, yeah, now I cannot have 1/2 lb of almonds, but…. I got my shopping fix… y’know?)

Now, to what I heard at Sallie’s:

Across the rack from me, there was a young woman shopping with her parents.  She turned to her mother and said, “A person could get a whole outfit here!”   I looked down at what I was wearing, and snickered:  My Ellen Tracy/Lin — a Allard jacket, and my Banana Republic blouse and skirt were all from Sallie’s — yes, it is very true! You can buy a whole outfit at Sallie’s.

A HAPPY ENDING

A while back, I saw a TV show about Lucille Ball, and, at one point, there was a clip of another actress, who said that she did not think that Lucy had “a happy ending”.

I was saddened, and I began thinking about what a happy ending is.

My  grandfather died when I was 13.  Did he have a happy ending?   I think so… I had a visitation from him.  This was before his funeral, and I was bunked in my grandmother’s sewing room, and I was wide awake, reading something, and he walked into the room, and sat down beside me on the bed and told me that I would see him again.  (I kept secret my last conversation with my grandfather for 35 years – when I told my mother she did not believe me, or thought it was a childish fantasy, so it is just as well that I never told anyone.  I know that my grandfather had a happy ending.)

My father is a Baptist minister.  Right now, I think, he is retired (I say I think year.) because every time I think he is retired, I find out that he is preaching somewhere again. This has been going on for some 15 years.  I expect it will keep on for a while.  Daddy turned 82 last year.

My parents do not think much of me. They think I am one of the “Lost”.  They have told me this so many times that I have lost count.  That is okay with me because, thank the Lord, they taught me, as I was growing up, that I must have a personal relationship with my God.  That is the most valuable thing that my parent have ever given me.  I do have that personal relationship with the Lord.  What anyone else thinks is their business.  I also learned that the person who has never sinned should be the first person to throw a stone (my paraphrasing of the Biblical verse).  That is one of the teachings, ground into my consciousness,  that has allowed me to become the whole person that I am, finally, now. and has allowed me to deal with the issues that dogged me throughout my childhood, adolescence, and  early adulthood.

A while back, my dad told me that, if you have a good relationship with God, you will not be afraid of death. That was an interesting concept, at the time, but, not too far after that, September 11th happened.  I live in New York City, and I had the dubious honor of seeing the first plane fly into the World Trade Center. I also had the opportunity, at that moment, to try to calm people who did not know what to do, or where to go, or even how to get home.  When it was my turn to go home (2 hours after the towers fell), I thanked the Lord that I had thought about how to get home if I had to walk (and I had heard Simon & Garfunkel’s “59th Street Bridge” song), and I started walking home, and I did not think about anything except dying with my stuff (okay, that might sound stupid, but I am not married, and my family was far away.)   I just figured if I could get home, I could die comfortable (as an English teacher to foreigners, it seems to me that many people translate “happy” as “comfortable”– I understood, at that time, that I would be comfortable
“with my stuff”, although I knew, of course, that I would never be happy, like I had been, again, because my neighbors, and my landmarks, and my things that I loved were gone)  At the same time, I figured that, if I could get home, to my stuff, I could die happy (okay, I am one of those people who find it easy to be happy…. if I have my stuff; if I have my family; if I am where I know where I am.

WHO DO I LOVE MOST: Duh! I still love Jerome Murat

Students playing with my head today.  They wanted to know who I really love in all the world.   I will admit it.  I have several loves:

I love
Jerome Murat
Desperaux
Sonny the robot in I, Robot

Okay, Despereaux is a cute mouse and Sonny is a robot, so that leaves me with Jerome Murat. I love Jerome Murat.

HOW TO BE SURE THAT A JEROME MURAT PERFORMANCE IS WITH THE REAL JEROME MURAT?

Suddenly, I am taken with this question.

I know that Jerome Murat has hired at least two other men and trained them to do his performance. I have seen a video of one of them – not good unless you have never seen the original performer.

If one buys a ticket to a Jerome Murat performance, can one be certain that it will be the real Jerome Murat, i.e., what is the likelihood that one of the “impostors” will perform. (this is why I will not go to Mexico for the coming performance there)  How is one to know whether the performance is genuine, or just a paid for imitation. Of course, since I love Jerome Murat, I do not want to see Pierre or Jean.

Now I am in a turmoil.  It is an easy turmoil, since Jerome Murat does not come to New York City. (I have thought of asking David Letterman to get him on the show, but then, how would I know to stay up late to see the performance, or, even better, get a ticket to the show? Then, too, how could we be certain that we were getting the real thing, and not a cheap imitation?)

My life was so easy before I knew about the hired impostors. I was able to imagine going to a performance.

Now I must know. How can you know? Is it announced that it will be a Jerome Murat-style performance, or are the fans duped into seeing an imitation?

I still love Jerome Murat. I am still waiting.

WAITING FOR JEROME MURAT

I live in New York City. Everybody comes here. Even  Venezuelan bands come here.  It must be easy to schedule a performance here, because just about everyone does it at some point in time, at some place in the City.  There are so many places to play.

So, how come Jerome Murat does not come here?  Is he a fraidy-cat?  Is he an America-hater? (No problem there! Most people in New York City seem to hate America!)

Where is Jerome Murat today?

Today is such a dreary day – I just did my work, then attended to my accounts, then went to see Jerome on youtube.   It was one of those times when the video plays lousily – too many stops and starts, and it always seems it stops and starts right where I am trying to look and see how that happened.  Still, it was a nice time I spent with Jerry.

I am still here waiting for Jerome Murat.  It should not take long. I am patient.

Here kitty kitty kitty!

The bad news today is I have to continue the chemo for two more months. Yuck.  The happy ending to that is that it doesn’t make me as sick as it did the last time.

I LOVE JEROME MURAT: Who is Mike?

Who is Mike?

I received this charming comment from “Mike” yesterday:

“First blog I read after wakeup from sleep today!
Are you tension? panic?”

Who is Mike? Mike is an English name, but Mike’s English is not very good (sorry Mike!)  Why does Mike wonder if I am panicking?  Why would I be panicking?

I am quite curious about Mike, but I love Jerry.

There was a comment on one of the JM videos that said that Jerome Murat is really Kekilli Murat, a Turkish singer, but I seriously doubt that. I went to the Kekilli videos, and the guy does not look anything like Jerome Murat. Wrong chin to start. (Kekilli has a serious cleft in his chin, and Jerry has a chin more in keeping with someone with such a proud nose as his).  Very different body type.  Totally different nose.  Not the same guy.

I still love Jerome Murat.

OH LA LA! Ma francais is sort-of working

Oh la la!  I went to google.fr and read about Jerome Murat en francais! I can understand about every tenth word, but I can get the idea of what is being said (It does help a lot that everything said en francais is pretty much word for word exactly what I have already read en anglais!  I guess there is no more info on Jerome in French than we have in English.  Spooky.

At least I know that I know no French, and that I can read French if I really really want to (but I am not up to reading a book yet — aw heck! I am still illiterate in French!)

I have found I can understand about five French phrases in the video intro. I’ve now heard the title of the piece.  I’m working on how you would write that in French.  This without consulting a French book.

It doesn’t help that I’ve never liked French. Perhaps if I would just break down and study it for that simple reason, I might get a feel for the slipperiness and slithery feel of it.

meanwhile, je still ne sais parlais pas francais!

Do they eat potatoes in France?  Why, yes! I’ve heard they eat French fries with mayonnaise.  Curious. I’ve always done that — never developed much of a taste for ketchup.

BEING A MIME IS A GOOD JOB FOR SHY PEOPLE

Being shy is an interesting situation.  Of course, it is only interesting after you get over the handicap part and begin to get philosophical about getting on with life and how that can be done.

 

Although now the AMA has physicians urging medication as a way to overcome shyness, I refuse to be medicated.  I have already gone through courses aimed at teaching shy people to feel more comfortable relating with other people (How to Talk to Anyone is popular title)

 

I have a job which is very good for shy people. I am a teacher. What? Yes. Shyness is all about feeling not in control, about being afraid of making a mistake. Really, it is. Being a teacher puts you in control and in a place where you are not likely to make a mistake. I am lucky that I have been able to find this way to make my way in the world.

 

Recently, I was trying to figure out what kind of person would be a mime.  I think that being a mime would be a very good job for a shy person. A mime does not have to talk to anyone. All they have to do is move. They can make eye contact or not, as they choose. (I think it might be easier for a mime to make eye contact when performing than when walking around in real life).

 

I happened upon this line of thought as I realized that there are not many female mimes. I asked myself why that should be so, and then I tried to imagine myself doing a mime routine.  I finally decided that a female mime would have a difficult time developing a routine that would not seem politically incorrect, or else. Male mimes can get away with being silent and appealing to their audience through actions, but, historically, this has simply been accepted behavior for women. Where would the performance be?  Anything a woman might do would simply be ascribed to stereotype.  How it annoys me to discover yet another job which women simply cannot do!!!

At any rate, I believe that most mimes, at least, are probably shy people.  No one knows anything about Jerome Murat, which would tend to make me think that Mr. Murat is a shy person who hides from the public eye.

VALENTINE’S DAY: JUST ANOTHER WAY AMERICANS HAVE FUN

VALENTINE’S DAY: JUST ANOTHER WAY AMERICANS HAVE FUN

My foreign friends seem to be confused about Valentine’s Day. Of course, if there is no one to explain our cultural goings-on to them, they can only guess at what we are up to. (Even some Americans, particularly the childless, can lose sight of what Valentine’s Day has been about for at least the last 100 years – I am counting in my own childhood, and that of my parents, my grandparents, and my schoolteachers, who taught me about Valentine’s Day.) In America, as far as I know, we don’t have an official “Sweethearts’ Day” — that is supposed to be every day. (This is where people coming in from other cultures seem to get confused – maybe they don’t have that concept?) Valentine’s Day, as it is known where I come from, is one of our “fun”, or “light-hearted” holidays. (Folks from other parts of the world may have noticed that, here in America, most of us, aside from government and bank employees, do not have a whole lot of holidays where we take the day off from work, as it seems they do in foreign parts. We make up for it with our “fun” holidays, which are supposed to be, well, *fun*.)

Young children get caught up in the excitement with the red cakes and koolaid, choosing “valentines” from the box of valentine cards for all their classmates and teachers, the chance to write their names in “code”, classroom decorations and Valentine crafts (typically making Valentine’s presents for Mamma), and the wearing of red or pink clothes chosen especially for the day. Adults may get into the excitement with their sweethearts, making it a “special day”, by exchanging gifts or just cards, and sharing a special dinner together (in my family, that was the dinner Mamma made for the whole family, with red candles and red napkins on the table and some sort of red dessert, like Jello with whipped cream on top, or Red Velvet cake – we were all her sweethearts.) There are even special recipes for Valentine’s Day. 

Single adults, and married adults without children may make a special dinner date for Valentine’s Day, and, although it may seem a hackneyed idea to the jaded youth of foreign countries, it remains a popular day to propose marriage, as far as I have know.

While it is interesting to know abut the early origins of Valentine’s Day, far more interesting are the ways  it has been celebrated in England and America throughout the centuries, and, even much more interesting, how Americans celebrate Valentine’s Day now.

It’s just another fun holiday for everyone, folks!  You are supposed to enjoy it.