We'll see

My finances are out of control and literally making me lose sleep. I'm doing OK right now, with my paycheck reliably coming in every two weeks. I put money away for retirement with every check. I have 7 months' worth of expenses socked away and, if I lose my job this summer, I should receive about two months' in severance.

But in this economy, I have no confidence that I'll find another job in 9 months. My best friend is still out of work after 10 months. This month my friend John will see his first anniversary of unemployment (though he's been doing inspiringly well as a freelancer). And my friend Ed has given up working in marketing altogether and is selling ties at Macy's.

So I'm scared.

But being scared is not empowering. Doing something is! So I went through my closet, pulled the nicest lightweight pieces that no longer fit, and took them to the resale shop around the corner. Two suits, two blouses and two handbags. One of the purses still had tags attached. My kid sister found it in our mother's closet and we're reasonably sure she bought it for my birthday. Parting with it left me melancholy, but I have too many purses and besides, I usually carry Miche bags with interchangeable shells, so it's doing me more good over there than it would making me sad, sitting there in the den.

I've never done consignment before. I didn't realize that I may not see any money at all (if they don't sell, I'm taking the items to Goodwill for the tax writeoff) and if I do it won't be for months. Oh well, it's an adventure. And making the move made me feel like I have a wee bit more control over my own bottom line.

She means well

My friend Kathleen is going through the Empty Nest Syndrome in a big way. Her son just graduated from college and in days her daughter will graduate from high school. They are lovely kids, any parent would be proud. Just thinking about these transitions, and that beginning in fall there will be no kids in her house, leaves her quite emotional.

She and her husband -- a challenging but most interesting man that I like a lot -- are having a backyard barbecue to celebrate their kids. Two weeks from today.

"Oh, good!" The Gal thought sarcastically when the invitation arrived. "Not only do I miss the Cub game she and I were going to that weekend, I get to spend $100 I hadn't budgeted for." And yes, I know that a $50/kid gift looks cheap, but that's all I can come up with right now.

I'd rather be with Kathleen in the stands watching the Cubs and Astros than in her backyard watching her mist up every 15 minutes or so as she gazes upon her progeny. And I really don't feel like spending the money.

But including me with family and friends is Kathleen's way of saying I'm important to her, and that she wants my support on this special day. So I should stop being such a bitch and enjoy the gesture in the spirit in which it was meant.

Hopeful

Last night and this morning was rough for me and Rey. The other two cats, too, but mostly Reynaldo because he is the most routine-driven of the 3. For the vet tech thought that bloodwork would be required at Rey's morning appointment, which meant no food at 9:00 PM Friday.

"MEOW!" Where's my dish?
"MEOW!" Come look! My dish is gone.
"MEOW!" Shit! All the dishes are gone!
"MEOW!' There must be some kind of mistake! No dishes! No dishes at all!

Punctuated, of course, by knocking things over and eating my hair. 

This went on from 9:00 PM until 8:00 AM, when we left for the vet. The upshot was that, though she meant well, the vet tech was wrong and no blood was drawn.

Instead, the vet gave him a shot of female hormones. He said we want "more nesting and nurturing and less territory marking." He also explained that Rey's behavior isn't anger toward me. That I am looking at his behavior through a human's eyes. The doc says Rey's marking and peeing and demanding attention is because he's so "bonded" to me, that he's being particularly macho in trying to both hold my attention and protect the Ponderosa. He is showing me that this home, and I, are the center of his world in the only way he knows how.

OK, but we can't have him peeing on my stuff! The vet thinks the shot will mellow him out, make him a bit less aggressive, less protective. We'll revisit the situation in two weeks. Hopefully this will do the trick!

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Sweet Caroline

The idea for this came from Harriet, who suggested the baseball theme.

 
1) "Sweet Caroline" has been sung during every Boston Red Sox home game since the 1990s. (Click here to watch Neil Diamond lead the fans in the first game after April's bombing.) Do you know the words well enough to sing along? Yes, I know it by heart. I think every baby boomer does. It was pretty ubiquitous back in the Top 40 AM-only radio days. 

 

2) Do you have a favorite major league baseball team? If you don't know the answer to this, you don't visit this blog often. I root root root for the CUBBIES.

 
3) Budweiser is the "official beer of major league baseball." Do you reach for a cold beer on a hot summer day? Given my choice, I'll have a Miller Lite, but yes, I love a cold beer on a hot day.

 4) Every season, more than a million Vienna Beef Hot Dogs are consumed by baseball fans at Chicago's Wrigley Field. When you get a hot dog, what do you put on it? I loooove hot dogs! I like everything but onions. (And yes, blasphemous though it sounds, that includes ketchup.)
 

  5) The odds of a fan in the stands being hit by a baseball are 300,000 to 1. The odds of winning the lottery are (approximately) 1 in 12,000,000. Do you play the lottery? Every week. I dream about winning. I blog about winning. And this reminds me, I've got to buy a ticket for tonight's drawing.

 

6) Though his song has been adopted by faithful Boston Red Sox fans, Neil Diamond was born and raised in New York City. Have you ever visited The Big Apple? Only once, but I was enchanted.

 

7) Baseball players are notoriously superstitious. For example, the Cubs' Matt Garza eats Popeye's fried chicken every day that he pitches. Joltin' Joe DiMaggio touched second base with his foot every time he ran on or off the field. Do you have any superstitions? I try to hold my button when I pass a cemetery. 

 
8) A ball signed by Babe Ruth can fetch tens of thousands of dollars at auction. Have you ever asked a celebrity for his/her autograph? When I was in junior high and high school, I had many autographs from Cubs and Hawks players. But as an adult? No.

 

9) Baseball means summer and summer means sun. Are you working on a tan, or do you slather on the sunscreen? I wear sunscreen and you should, too! About 90% of nonmelanoma skin cancers are tied to the sun's UV rays. (This is very top of mind for me because I recently had a skin cancer scare.)

A life that touched mine

Bobby Kennedy died on 6/6/68. I was 10 years old. It completely rocked my world. There had already been so much real-life violence on TV that year, including Dr. King's assassination and the ensuing riots and nightly coverage of the Vietnam carnage. To my child's eyes, this man -- who always seemed to be surrounded by kids or dogs -- could help. Then he got shot, too.

He didn't die instantly. The bullet that shattered his brain didn't blow off part of his skull, as in the first Kennedy assassination. Bobby lingered overnight. I remember going to sleep hoping he would make it, not understanding how much damage a bullet lodged in the brain could do. Of course I know now that what made him HIM was already gone. But I was 10 and life seemed full of infinite possibilities. So it broke my heart to hear he died.

The more I learned about Bobby, the more he taught me about the human spirit. For there were really two Bobbys. In the late 1950s-early 1960s, he was pugnacious and (to use the term popular at the time) "ruthless." He lived in a black-and-white, us vs. them world. He prosecuted the Mob and clashed with Jimmy Hoffa because he believed they were BAD. The ends justified the means. He served his brother with energy and imagination and loyalty because JFK was GOOD. He did whatever it took to further his brother's agenda. No questions asked.

Then, in November 1963, he was shattered by his brother's murder. He emerged from grief a different man. The public outpouring of affection for his family transformed him. Expanded him. If you hurt, he heard you. Anti-war protesters, disenfranchised blacks, blue-collar whites, the poor ... you were his constituents. It's hard to believe now, but he was wildly popular with two demographics -- urban Northern youth and lower middle class Southern. No one has ever had such a diverse constituency since. It wasn't based on ideology, it sprang from belief in the man. After Bobby's death, many of his supporters went not to McCarthy or Humphrey or even Nixon but to George Wallace (!). I wonder what this nation could achieve if we had a leader who could unite those groups the way Bobby did.

As Ted Kennedy eulogized his brother, "He saw wrong and tried to right it. He saw suffering and tried to heal it. He saw war and tried to stop it." To Bobby, who still saw the world as black and white, it really was that simple. It's just that his heart grew to encompass everyone who needed him.

We can all change. We can all become better. We can all learn to love more and love better. That's what I learned from the man who died on this date.

I'm wrong!

Just call me Wrongie McWrongerson.

My oldest friend did NOT watch the hockey game with Archie after all! I'm so happy that she heard me. That she's not mad and took my meddling as concern. That she did something self protective and took herself out of harm's way.

Sometimes being wrong is the best thing in the world!

Thursday Thirteen #224

Doing the iPod Shuffle

I haven't done this in quite a while. But for this week's TT, I just put my iPod on shuffle and let it do all the work. The list is rather typical for a Boomer like me.

I admit I'm embarrassed by #1. ("Rock on with your bad self.")  But it was one of my favorites when I was a kid. Hearing it reminds me of my first airplane flight, to Florida to visit my uncle.

1) Rock the Boat. The Hues Corporation. 1974.



2) Roll Over, Beethoven. The Beatles. 1964.

3) Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves. Cher. 1971.

4) Wishin' and Hopin'. Dusty Springfield. 1964.

5) Million Dollar Bill. Whitney Houston. 2009.

Of all these songs, this one is most favorite:

6) The Heart of the Matter. Don Henley. 1984.



7) Nobody Does It Better. Carly Simon. 1977.

8) My Heart and Soul. Marcia Ball. 2010.

9) Someday, Someway. Marshall Crenshaw. 1982.

10) Folsom Prison Blues. Johnny Cash. 1955.

11) Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard. 1972.

12) Bright Side of the Road. Van Morrison. 1979.

Possibly the most obscure song on my list, as it was never a Top 40 radio hit. 

It's a nice bit of country-tinged pop.

13) You May Just be the One. The Monkees. 1967.

For more about the Thursday 13, 
or to play along yourself, click here.

I blurted

Sunday night, my oldest friend called while I was playing with my cat, Reynaldo. I was going to talk her through Twitter so she could "live tweet" during the Blackhawks/LA Kings game. It was interrupting our playtime and sharing my attention that upset Rey so much he peed on the paperwork in my dining room.

So I was upset while she and I were talking. I was cleaning up the mess and muttering "sonofabitch" and "goddammit" as we spoke. Because my hands were busy, I wasn't able to walk her through the Twitter issue and I was just ... upset.

Which is why, when she chirped, "Archie and I are going to watch the next game together. Dutch treat, of course."

I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I knew when she contributed $25 to sponsor him on a dog walk for charity (one of only two of his 587 Facebook friends to do so) that she was angling to see him again. I knew it when I interacted with him myself on Saturday. She and he were conversing on Facebook about how great the Pittsburgh Penguins team was. Now, except for a sincere appreciation for how seriously Blackhawk fans here in Chicago want the Cup, I couldn't care less about hockey. I just wanted to bust her for changing her opinions for a boy. (We've known each other since Kindergarten and she's always done that, and it's always made me crazy.) I reminded her that she had said earlier that she was rooting for Boston. He answered my post almost immediately with: "Pens will win." Sigh. I very patiently typed: "As you can see by my avatar, I am a Cub fan. Who we cheer for is not determined by who we believe will win." His response? "LOL." Don't you hate LOL?

Anyway, Sunday night I blurted. I told her all of it. I told her how, after their first date when she was so enchanted by him ("He said he liked my smile and my hair, Gal!"), when he texted her to cancel their second date because he was "sick," he posted a photo of himself between two women on his Facebook page. Which he knew she could see. Now the two women -- 30-something blondes, btw --  were former coworkers from out East and he was just showing them LA. But I hated the shit-eating smile on his face, the hand around each tiny waist, and the lie. Why did he have to lie to my friend? And why did he have to post the photo where he knew she could see it?

Then, when they were supposed to meet again, he cancelled again, "for a family wedding." No, he was out with another woman he met on Match.com, working on a Rose Bowl float. He posted that on Facebook, too.

And I told her. I told her all of it. I never mentioned it before because I didn't want to embarrass her or hurt her. But I was upset about Rey and I blurted.

Her response surprised me. "Oh, Gal, I don't care."

My response surprised me. In that I said it out loud. "You should care! That you don't care how he treated you is something you should mention to your shrink."

I told her how he posted a picture of a little girl with the caption: "You call it behavior disorder. I call it bratty." I mentioned that with her kids, this is not a healthy attitude. She said, "I'll never let him near my kids. That will never happen."

"Why would you hang around with someone -- even platonically -- that you know would be toxic for your children?"

"You're right. There are red flags."

"He's FUCKING SURROUNDED by red flags!" I shouted into the phone. I told her about the date at the comedy club last summer when he was so proud of himself for heckling the comic for not telling any Obama jokes. I said, "Can you imagine how mortified she must have been?"

Then I started to laugh. I mean, I have been monitoring Archie Bunker's drivel for a year. A year of my life, on Twitter and Facebook, reading his RWNJ brain farts. Every day he annoys me, and every day I keep tabs on him because I don't want him near my fragile friend. And it was all for nothing. Am I an ass or what?

I apologized to her for being so blunt, so pushy, so far out of line. Because I knew Sunday night she was going to see him Tuesday anyway. She's that lonely, that male-defined. And she's going to fall in love with him and he's going to break her heart.

PS As of this morning, the Boston Bruins are beating the Pittsburgh Penguins 2-0. I wish she trusted her own instincts better!

Me and Him

I have always suspected that Reynaldo ended up in my life for a reason. That he's here to teach me something. I mean, I've had cats my whole life and never had one that demanded the interaction with me he does. (Wilma, the skinny calico who lived with me when I was in my late-20s, came close. She had a thyroid condition and her motor just ran too fast for her tiny body. But she was smarter than Reynaldo and could amuse herself as she raced around my little apartment. I could tell by the look on her face if she was pretending to be predator or prey.)

I adopted him from a shelter. I took the role. I accepted the responsibility. He gives me his trust and affection. In exchange, I will honor my commitment to providing a forever home. We will be together as long as he is healthy and painfree. We will work this out.

I'm reading a wonderful book right now called Cat Daddy by Animal Planet's Jackson Galaxy (My Cat from Hell). It's about "an emotionally and physically broken cat named Benny" ... and how they "cohealed, and refused to let each other live broken ever after.” Like Marley and Me, the book about the world's worst dog, reading about how Galaxy adapted to Benny and what he learned about himself in the process is a help.

This evening wasn't so bad. We played for about half an hour when he started howling and that diffused the cat bomb a bit. And one of the great things about keeping this blog is that I'm able to look back on our earlier days together. This is who Rey is. He brings nature -- a little of the undomesticated -- into my home. And I'm learning to respect that.

Healing Nicely

Happy to report that when I look at my mouth in the mirror, all I see are lips -- not a scar. I'm glad, because that was a very prominent beauty mark that was removed and biopsied.

I haven't gotten word from the insurance company yet, but I'm confident they'll play at least half of the bill. I'm grateful that I was able to afford to have a plastic surgeon do the procedure, as my dermatologist was very frank about how difficult it would be for him to lop it off without scarring.

He did it again last night

Reynaldo peed in the dining room. He had plenty of time to get to the box. He didn't even try. He was excited -- we'd been playing with a gray catnip mouse -- and I stopped to take a phone call. He responded first by knocking things over, then calling out to me, and then he urinated.

Of course I scolded him as I cleaned up the damage as quickly as I could. But vets and animal behaviorists will tell you that this was more to make me feel better than to deter his activity. Cats don't understand negative reinforcement as well as dogs do and besides, rubbing a dog's nose in his business doesn't work that well, anyway.

So now what? I have purchased a "kitty condo" so that Rey has a place to call his own. I sprinkle it liberally with catnip and praise him extravagantly whenever he's on it. I got an alarm that sounds loudly whenever he jumps on the dining room table, but he ignores it. He has a new litter box. I even consulted a pet psychic.

I give him a prescription cat food to dissolve the crystals in his bladder. The vet said it takes about a month to work. The month is up. Now I guess we go back to the vet and for another check up and then perhaps tranquilizers.

I am tired and worried and frightened. How am I going to afford his care if this continues and I lose my job? The prescription food is very expensive. So are the trips to the vet.

There is good news, though. He lets me sleep through the night now. Given a choice, though, I'd rather have the nocturnal adventures than the peeing.

Sunday Stealing

To play along, click here


1. What’s something you hide about your personality? People would be surprised by how frightened I am. This Recession, worry about money, is taking its toll on me and makes me fearful of what the future holds.

2. How do you deal with criticism? I can be defensive.

3. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you? I am grateful for any generous gestures.

4. Which fictional character would you most like to have lunch with and why?  Either Scarlett O'Hara (GWTW) or Jo March (Little Women). Both of these mid-19th century American women built careers for themselves at a time that was decidedly prefeminist. I'd be fascinated to hear how they look at our lives and opportunities today.


5. Who would you say is your “anti” role model? Someone who serves as a warning rather than an inspiration? My dad. I inherited his pride and his temper. He showed me, by negative example, how corrosive those traits can be to relationships.

6. What’s the most infuriating thing your parents (or caregiver) do? I don't understand this question. I'm a self sufficient old lady!

7. Which movie character do you most identify with and why? Kate in The Way We Were. Listen to the SATC girls explain why. ("I'm a Katie girl. And where are our drinks?")



 8. You’re an Action Movie Hero. What’s your weapon of choice and the line you scream when defeating your arch enemy?  I'd be like John McLane from Die Hard. My weapon of choice would be my quick wit and I'd yell, "Yip-ee-kye-aye, MF!"

9. What’s the oddest term of endearment you’ve ever used or that someone’s used for you? When we would get exasperated, an ex and I used to sing Rod Stewart's song to one another, changing the lyric to "Have I Told You Lately that I Hate You?" Does that count?

10. What was something you used to enjoy, but was ruined for you? What’s the story behind that?  Jen Lancaster and her books. Knowing she's a bully makes it hard for me to enjoy her work. (here's the link)


11. Which mythological creature are you most like? Why? And if you could be any mythological

creature, which would you want to be? Why?  I don't know who I'm like but I know I'd like to be a mermaid. They seem to have such a peaceful relationship to the environment and never have bad hair days.


12. Describe your dream library.  Endless

13. If you could design an amusement park ride, what would it be like?  I like swings and I like roller coasters. If we could combine the two somehow, I'd be delighted.


14. Do you have any “rules” about food?  I'd be better off if I did.

15. What’s your opinion on age differences in relationships? Twelve years in either direction is my max. Beyond that, you lose one another's cultural references.

16. What’s something you want to do that you’d be embarrassed to tell other people about?  Tee hee. (I'm blushing at the thought.)

17. Describe a time/event in your life that you’re nostalgic for. The beginning of each romantic relationship, when I'm in love and preoccupied and filled with hope.

Well, Hell, Look at That!

Took public transportation back from my former hometown today. Lately I've been lazy and taking cabs to and fro when I go to the dentist or get my hair cut, but that's $38. And, as I've noted lately, my job feels tenuous again. So I did the train/bus combo back today and saved a few bucks.

In the 9 months since I took the route regularly, I noticed so many changes! The big one is that Costco is coming to the area. The warehouse for a major food supplier is gone. Rubble. And Costco will go up there. I've never set foot in a Costco so I don't know what to expect, or even if I care. It's that the warehouse went up when I was in high school and it was jarring to see a vacant lot and construction equipment in its place.

Also the big old "family dining" establishment across from the train station has expanded, taking over the dog groomer's space next door and turning it into their "event and party room" and adding a tacky neon strip to their age-old sign, heralding their selection of "liquor and cocktails." I'm not clear on the difference between liquor and cocktails, and they have been serving drinks there since before I was born, but I'm happy that they have been able to expand. This restaurant was opened in that very spot by a Greek-Czech immigrant couple decades ago and is still in the family, has employed generations of high school students and working moms.

Weird Dreams Are Made of These

It's been more than a week since I've heard from my best friend. He's pissed at me, I'm pissed at him. Usually when we reach a standoff like this, I continue to keep the lines of communication open because, as the Lads sing, "Pride can hurt you, too." But I don't feel like it this time.

It feels different this time. I'm growing weary of the 8th grade-level snitty aspect of our relationship. There are many, many wonderful things about this man, but he is awfully sensitive about his own feelings at times while being awfully careless about the feelings of others.

In my dream Friday night, he morphed into Frasier Crane. The friction between us sprang from the play A Chorus Line. I don't remember the details in the dream, but the quality of our discourse disintegrated pretty quickly and included a lot of "how could you do this to me NOW" vs. "how could you do this to ME now?" It seems in the dream we were both unemployed. In real life, he has been since late last summer, and I fear I soon will be.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: (Amazing) Just the Way You Are
Thanks to Smellyann for the song suggestion

1) This song is about a girl who can't accept how pretty she is. How do you respond to compliments? Do you accept them graciously, or do you get embarrassed? I'm always pretty dismissive. Tell me my eyes are a pretty green and I'll credit my eyeshadow. You get the idea.

 
2) Bruno says he takes inspiration from a variety of musical styles -- everything from rock to reggae to hip hop. What kind of music do you listen to most often? Pop

 
3) Bruno's uncle was a professional Elvis impersonator, and as a little boy Bruno also performed on stage as the King. When you picture Elvis, do you think of early rock'n'roll Elvis from the 1950s, Technicolor Hollywood Elvis of the 1960s, or the rhinestone jumpsuit Elvis who performed in Las Vegas? I love all phases of The King, but young Elvis is my favorite. 

 

4) Bruno plays several instruments onstage, including piano, guitar and congas. What instruments can you play? Not a one. I'm possibly the least musically gifted person you'll ever meet.

 
5) Bruno is touring all over the country this summer. What's the last concert you attended? I saw Streisand last October. It was a terrible time in my life -- my mother's final illness and death -- and I'll always be grateful one of my girlhood heroines gave me something to look forward to.

 
6) Unlike some other stars, Bruno doesn't demand a lot of luxuries on the road, but he did admit to TMZ that he insists Wet Wipes be provided for his dressing room. If you could ask your boss for anything, anything at all, to make your workplace more comfortable, what would you request? I have a lot of complaints about my job, but the company I work for is aces in this regard. They even brought us all hotdogs and Cracker Jack this past week to celebrate the Crosstown Classic (when the Cubs play the White Sox).

 
7) Rumors are flying that Bruno might become a judge on American Idol. Are you an Idol fan? Do you watch any of the other "talent search" shows -- The Voice, America's Got Talent, The X Factor, etc.? I used to love Idol, but I didn't really watch this year because Nikki and Mariah arguing and being all "mean girls" gave me a headache.

8) Bruno is an unapologetic cigarette smoker. Do you smoke? Have you quit? Or did you never start? Now why would a boy with such glorious pipes smoke? Bruno, stop it! No, I've never smoked.
 

9) Billy Joel also had a hit with the title "Just the Way You Are." If we were going to do karaoke, which version would you sing -- Billy's or Bruno's? I'm not doing karaoke. And you wouldn't want me to.

Guess who worked out today!

That would be me! Only the third time this month. (Shame on me.) But it felt good. 20 minutes of cardio, hip ad/abductors, some crunches, some leg lifts ...

June starts tomorrow. A fresh start. Maybe I can start being smarter and nicer to myself and pay closer attention to my eating and exercising.

Blog Every Day in May -- Day 31

Day 31, Friday: A vivid memory


It's a sunny lunchtime and I'm waiting to cross State and Randolph. One of my coworkers happens to be at the same crosswalk at the same time and sidles up next to me. We say "hi" and make small talk as we cross together. I notice the gray flecks in his hair and I'm overwhelmed with a desire to touch them. As we reach the opposite curb and go our separate ways, I realize to my surprise that while I may not be in love with him, I'm certainly in lust.

Blog Every Day in May -- Day 30

Day 30, Thursday: React to this term: Letting Go

eLyrics.net | Wings lyrics

Thursday Thirteen #223

OUR FIRST THIRTEEN FIRST LADIES

I am totally getting my geek on with the C-Span series, First Ladies: Influence and Image. While I'm pretty conversant about the ones of my lifetime, I've learned about the women who played a role in our early history.

1) Martha Washington. During the Revolutionary War, she visited General George and his men at Valley Forge and other difficult campsites. This troops loved this lady of means for slogging through the mud and snow to mend their socks and help them write letters home.

2) Abigail Adams just totally rocks. Both wise and literate, she wrote voluminous letters that reveal her influence on at least three of the most important men in American history (John Adams, Thomas Jefferson and John Quincy Adams).

3) Dolley Madison was the first President's wife to be known as "First Lady," though she didn't live to hear it. A beloved figure for decades, President Zachary Taylor called her "America's First Lady" when he eulogized her.

4) Elizabeth Monroe. When husband James was Minister to France, Elizabeth very publicly visited Madame de LaFayette in prison, which is credited for helping to secure her release.

5) Louisa Adams met and married John Quincy in London and then went with him when he served as a diplomat in Berlin. So she not only is our only foreign born First Lady, she never set foot on American soil until she was in her mid-20s.

6) Rachel Jackson died before her husband took the oath office and was buried in dress she planned to wear to his Inauguration. Andrew loved her to distraction, even though she was controversial during his campaign because she was not only (gasp!) a divorcee but her divorce hadn't been finalized, so she and the future President were unknowingly "living in sin."

7) Angelica Van Buren was widower Martin's daughter-in-law and acted as his hostess. Dolley Madison played matchmaker, bringing Angelica to the White House to meet Van Buren's oldest son.

8) Anna Harrison. At 65, she was the oldest First Lady when her husband took office.

9) Letitia Tyler was of frail health and appeared in public only once as First Lady. She died in the White House at age 51.

10) Julia Tyler was the daughter of David Gardiner, who lost his life in a naval accident during his service to President Tyler. They comforted one another through grief (her father/his wife) and married a year later.

11) Sarah Polk was the first First Lady to host a formal Thanksgiving Dinner at the White House.

12) Margaret Taylor was a genteel, religious yet rather stubborn lady. She made a deal with God when husband Zachary was fighting in the Mexican War -- if He returned her husband to her safely, she'd completely give up the society life she was raised to. As good as her word to Him, she never took part in formal activities at the White House. This caused much rumor and scandal, but didn't have any impact on her behavior.

13) Abigail Fillmore was the first First Lady to have a paying job before marriage. She had been a school teacher.

For more about the Thursday 13, 
or to play along yourself, click here.

Blog Every Day in May -- Day 29

Day 29, Wednesday: Five songs or pieces of music that speak to you or bring back memories.


1) All My Loving. The Beatles. "Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you. Remember, I'll always be true." I was 6 when I heard this the first time and this song, and that man singing it, defined romantic love for me. I've had the honor of hearing Sir Paul sing it live and he still melts me. Here's a lovely clip of Paul looking back on Paul.



2) September. Earth, Wind and Fire. Because it always makes me happy. Always.



3) Stoney End. Barbra Streisand. For me, Stoney End is a place, where I go when I'm hurting.When she howls that "the fury and the broken thunder's come to match my raging soul," that's the sound my heart makes. Babs has been there.




4) Hang Fire. The Rolling Stones. This is the only Rolling Stones song I have any affection for, but I love it to bits. It's so snotty and subversive and efficient -- less than 2 1/2 minutes long!


5) Peaceful. Helen Reddy. Helen Reddy recorded a lot of crap in her career, but this is really very good. I love the idea of it, that somewhere there's a place where no one's bending over my shoulder, nobody breathing in my ear.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President

Today, John F. Kennedy would turn 95. It's hard to imagine him as an old man, since he'll forever be contemporary and 46. Though his life was not long, it has taught me a great deal. Not the least of which is ...

No matter how good someone's life looks from the outside, you have no idea how it feels from the inside.

To outward appearances, Kennedy lived a charmed life. His father was fabulously wealthy, he grew up surrounded by brothers and sisters who adored him, he was a Harvard graduate and a Navy war hero, a lion with the ladies who settled down with the woman who would become a glamorous superstar in her own right, to this day, the youngest man to be elected President.

The reality was quite different. His father, Ambassador Joseph P. Kennedy, was one of the most complicated men I've ever read about. Yes, he was a brilliant businessman and a loving, involved father. He was also a womanizer, an opportunist and (as Jacqueline would call her father-in-law in 1964), "the tiger mother" who believed that children needed to do punishingly hard work in order to be successful, because only success brings real satisfaction.

His mother, Rose, found herself in a nearly impossible marriage at a time when women -- even rich women -- had few options. So she retreated into piety and escaped to the fashion capitals of Europe. She had difficult, remote relationships with her oldest children, including the future President. To quote Jackie again, "His mother never loved him." And so he grew to become remote with women.

His favored and more conventional older brother overshadowed and bullied him. The sister nearest him in age, Rosemary, was "slow" and "special." Jack cared for and about her -- at socials, her dance card was always filled with the names of his friends who, at his suggestion, would pretend to compete for her attention. Imagine how he felt when, in 1941, he came home to find she no longer lived with the family. She'd undergone a disastrous lobotomy and was sent away to live at a convent. In the space of just four short years, his sister Kick, the one closest to him in spirit, lost their mother's affection when she married the titled but, alas, Protestant heir to the Duke of Devonshire, lost that husband in battle, and then lost her own life at the tender age of 28 in a plane crash.

Yes, he was awarded medals for his heroism on PT-109. The episode at sea also destroyed his never robust health. To support his shattered back he slept on a board and wore a corset under his clothes. (Did you ever wonder why, in Dallas, the first bullet that struck his windpipe didn't knock him down? His corset held him rigidly upright, making it easier for the assassin to make the kill shot.) He suffered from Addison's disease, low blood pressure, hypothyroidism and colitis. He grew accustomed to a life of pain, and he was so sickly that brother Bobby used to joke, "A mosquito bit Jack and died."

There is much, MUCH gossip about his marriage to Jackie but this much is fact: during their 10 year marriage she was pregnant five times, yet only two of their children survived to adulthood; her father died; his father suffered a massive, debilitating stroke. Doesn't sound like theirs was a charmed union, does it?

And yet John F. Kennedy prevailed. Overcame. Excelled. In his own way, and on his own terms. He is remembered for his brilliant mind, his wit and his vision.

He's always reminded me of the real Gatsby, the ultimate self-invented American man. I used to think he was gone too soon but now I'm not so sure. I think perhaps his lifestory ended the only way it could have.

Good News!

Got my test results first thing yesterday morning and got the glorious news that both moles were benign. What a great way to start the week! It's funny how quick I stopped worrying about my health and started worrying about my scar. The one on my lip, that is. If the one on my back turns out to be all raised and pink, well, it'll just match the one on my tummy.

Memorial Day Recap

Today I slept in. Then I took a shower, farted around on the internet, and took a nap. I watched two episodes of the C-Span series on the First Ladies (Dolley Madison and Frances Cleveland, both foreshadowing my beloved JBKO), then I napped again. Went through the closet in the den and came up with another bag of clothes for Goodwill and a few pieces to take to the local consignment shop (I've never done that before). Watched the Cubs beat the White Sox in the Crosstown Classic (yea!). And now, guess what. Time for bed!

I wish I'd accomplished more. But I think I needed the sleep. When I'm not worrying, I'm on the verge of worrying, so this might have been what I needed.