The Crab Chronicles

Associations

Have you ever noticed that certain words provoke very specific feelings every time you encounter them? Or photos? I just watched one of those Facebook videos where they were making soup and they put in diced celery. I see celery and all I can think is OMG give me the dental floss! I'll be flossing my teeth for HOURS! AAAARGH!

I saw an ad for Fontana Village and I instantly felt nauseated. Why? Well when I was a kid my father's hobby was driving like a maniac. He was an energetic person and he never did anything slowly. So on Sunday afternoon my mother, in the tradition of her family, would suggest a drive, through the mountains. I HATED those Sunday drives. They meant me and my brother would be in the back seat while Daddy drove at breakneck speed on twisty, hilly mountain roads, while Mother screamed at him to SLOW DOWN! My brother would turn green and often need to vomit. One weekend we went to Fontana. Dad must have had too much caffeine that day because the road was a mountain nightmare and Dad drove it like Mario Andretti. So now when I see the word "Fontana" I don't think ooh, a lovely mountain resort, I think OMG I WANT OUT OF THE CAR NOW!

Songs, of course, are the primary purveyors of associations. They are like time capsules, instantly catapulting us back to when we first heard them, or a pivotal moment in life when we heard that particular song. That's why they are used so often in advertising. Think about it.

On the rare occasion when I hear Disco Inferno I am a Freshman in high school again, listening to a cassette of the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack on my tape recorder, and wishing I could dance. (I love to disco dance, but it's not something you want to see unless you have been told in advance that I am not having a seizure.)

Whenever I hear "Some Enchanted Evening" from South Pacific, I hear my dad singing it. He had a lovely untrained baritone voice. (And when he danced with me I didn't look so awful.)

When I hear Bad Bad Leroy Brown I am 12 years old again, and Joanne and I are singing it in the car. I can still sing every word just like Jim Croce..

Sometimes touch summons memories. Whenever my son gets a very short haircut and I run my hand over his hair I am right back in his orphanage, March 13, 2007, and I get to hug him for the first time, and kiss the top of his head. It was one of those pivotal moments in my life, when I knew with absolute certainty I was his mama. [below, him a couple of weeks later, at my hotel]

When I feel Lola's velvety ears I am a little girl feeling my blue velvet dress that I wore as the flower girl in my cousin's wedding. That was a happy occasion because I got to dress up and be in a wedding, which is a big deal to a 6 year old. Then I was told I could NOT eat all the cheese straws and the whole experience went south but that's another association...

Smells are time capsules, too.

When I smell Estee Lauder or Coty's L'Origon I can still feel when it felt like to hug my grandmother.. [below, Mamaw with me and my brother and my cousins Linda and Bill - all of us taller than she was, and I was only about 12]

I took a bisquit the other night and buttered it carefully, then put honey on it and took a bite. That flavor brought back my grandfather to me. He would sit and butter a piece of toast or a bisquit, and carefully pour some honey on it, often adding a small bit of the honeycomb, then feed it to me. He loved honey and he believed in its healing powers. I taste it and it seems to be what love tastes like..

My dad always smoked, until about a dozen years before he died, so when I smell smoke I think of him; not as gross as it might seem, although I will never smoke again. I also think of him when I see a lake with mountains behind it. Some of our happiest family times were at the little cabin on Douglas Lake.

Sometimes when I can't sleep, Dad and I take a walk on the beach, in my mind. It's a beautiful sunny day and there's a nice breeze. I can smell the salty water and a faint smell of Sea & Ski, which Mom always made me wear. Dad and I walk casually down the beach, me in the shallow water, loving the feeling of the sand on my feet, watching the waves, and feeling Dad's hand in mine. One day, that will be us in heaven, I've no doubt.

Cooking for the Family

I grew up watching an old show called The Galloping Gourmet with Graham Kerr. I loved how at the end of the show he invited a few folks from the audience to come onstage and eat what he had just cooked.

I love to watch Food network but often the shows on there don't inspire me. So many of the shows are about professional chefs competing for prizes. They cook what I call "foo foo" food - little piles of stuff artfully arranged on a plate that no normal person will ever eat. I prefer shows like Guy Fieri's Diners Drive Ins and Dives which appeals more to regular people who can't afford expensive gourmet restaurant food. I learn a lot from watching the chefs on that show.

I like food that normal people eat - spaghetti, meatloaf, fried chicken, steak, lasagna, chicken casserole, etc.

So why can't there be a cooking competition show aimed at folks like me?

I posted this on Facebook the other day:

I'm doing an unscientific poll and I'd like your opinions if you either 1) like to cook or 2) like to eat. I watch Food network all the time, but I don't like the shows where professional chefs are cooking for a panel of professional food critics. I like shows like Tricia Yearwood's show because it's more like the kind of cooking I do for my family. So I'd like to write a blog and send Food network a show idea and here it is - let me know your thoughts in a comment: Three normal people who are NOT professional chefs compete each week in a category [like "Best Spaghetti Casserole" or "Best Chicken Pot Pie"] and they are judged by 6-12 NORMAL people [different ages and backgrounds] primarily on DOES IT TASTE GOOD? DO YOU WANT SECOND HELPINGS?! Each week the winner wins a nice prize, and at the end of the season they bring back all the show winners to compete for a grand prize. That's a how I'd watch every week. What do you think?!

Sixteen people liked the idea. Comments included:

"That's a good idea, Dee. I hate the competitive shows where the judges act like executioners and make some of the contestants cry. I'd much rather see everyday cooks compete with recipes we can all attempt."

"I find most of Food Network's shows to be unrealistic. Those panels where they give them weird ingredients and 3 minutes to make something are just plain ridiculous. I prefer Tricia. I also like "Everyday Italian" and shows that introduce me to dishes I'm unfamiliar with."

"I agree on the unrealistic ideas on current shows...I watched Pioneer Woman the other day and she made a great meatloaf, twice baked potato meal that I feel I could recreate. As a mother on a fixed income, I like meals that don't have too many ingredients and are lower cost too..."

Not everyone agreed with me. That's okay. It's okay to like shows like Chopped, but why not have shows that are not so cutthroat?

Listen up, Food network people. I am doing your work for you. Give my idea some thought. Real food cooked by real people and judged by real people.

my mom's fruit salad

Writing and Release

I have learned over the years that ignoring things doesn't make them go away, no matter how much I wish it were so. Case in point, my dining room ceiling. We noticed a small leak in the ceiling several years ago, and the plumber went to the bathroom directly over the site and re-caulked the tub, which he said had not been properly caulked. We thought the problem was solved.

A couple of days ago I notice the place is now worse. A hole has now appeared. It's a small leak, sure, but the issue wasn't solved and now we will have to get a major repair done, I fear. At the very least we will have to cut a chunk out of the ceiling and see what's going on.

Our plumber is a great guy and I know he felt like the issue was solved. I don't blame him. We have an old house, built in 1968. Something is always going wrong.

People problems are similar.

Last January one of my son's friends killed himself. I had never heard the boy's name, and didn't think he was a close friend. It was a senseless tragedy, though. I tried to talk to Michael about it but he didn't want to discuss it with me, or with anyone. Fast forward, and we are having a lot of issues with Michael lately. I won't go into details, but I see now, looking back, what I didn't see then, how what I thought was a relatively minor or at least transient issue could escalate. However, the issues with Michael are not going to lead to suicide. I don't mean to imply that. We are working on solutions and I have faith we will work through things. (Mike's a good guy who just has some maturing to do.)

I had a confrontation yesterday with a friend I've known since we were kids. I will not go into details, but suffice to say that resentments had built up over a period of years, to the point where a confrontation was inevitable, and it was quite an awkward and painful situation. Journaling about my feelings [more in depth than I can write here] was helpful.

My writing is like a pressure valve. Pressure and stress build up and build up in me, and eventually there has to be an outlet. This happens to all of us. Some people drink. Some smoke. Some take drugs. Some over-indulge in food - which I have done, on many occasions. The way I try to cope now is that I write. There are hundreds of journal pages I have filled over the years -- obviously there are many feelings I cannot post publicly here.

My mother taught me this. She didn't realize it at the time, but she served as a great example for me. She used to write letters and poems and lots of lists; she still does, to some extent. She has a blog. She also still makes lists. (I make lists, too. In fact, I just stopped writing for a minute to make a To Do list for this coming week. Every time I clean out my purse I find lists.)

Another thing I find helpful, and it may be beneficial to share this for those of you who don't like to type or write, is visualization. No, I'm not a new-agey weirdo. It's just that over the years I realized that the way to help myself relax is to be quiet and shut my eyes and picture a calm, happy scene, like me walking down the beach. For someone else it might be cycling, or cooking, or playing with a child - doesn't really matter what it is, as long as it's something soothing and pleasant. "Painting" in the details mentally - the blue sky, the breeze, the warm sand under my toes, the sound of the crashing waves - really helps to get me into the scene. Usually as soon as I'm really feeling in the moment I doze off, but then I awaken quickly and feel much better.

I have noticed over the years that quite often when I think of someone I haven't seen in a while, and/or look at photos of them, remember shared experiences, etc. - they reappear in my life. Is that wishful thinking, unexpressed prayers, the "universe" reacting to me? Who knows. I just have noticed over the years that it happens a LOT. Wishes manifest. I think this is the thinking behind "The Secret" that was so popular a few years ago, but I don't give it that much credence. [I picture myself winning the lottery sometimes but since I was raised by a banker and am incapable of buying lottery tickets, winning ain't gonna happen; but then again I haven't wasted my money either...]

I just realize I digressed...

- and now to return to the original premise, sort of -

I am reading an excellent book called Flight Patterns, by Karen White. I have read almost all of her books, over a period of years, and it's gratifying to see her writing evolve and sharpen. She is an excellent observer of family relationships, and the damage that withheld information and feelings can do. I guess her books would likely be called Chick Lit, but I hate that term. Good writing is, to me, whatever takes you out of your own head and helps you cope by distancing yourself from the issues in your life, even if only for a few minutes at a time. I am not a purist when it comes to writing, which is why it's best I didn't get my PhD in English. I never fit in, in the UT English department where anything not "literature" is considered crass and unworthy. The snobbery of the English department used to annoy me worse than fingernails on a chalkboard.

The magic of reading fiction is to lose oneself, to travel and experience things without ever leaving your chair, to get inside an author's head and see the world through their eyes. Any writing that transports the reader has value, in my estimation. Here's how I think of it, a comparison: most folks use plates and bowls to eat from, and everyone eats. Does it matter if the plate is fine china, like Limoges? No. A paper plate serves the same function, to hold the food that sustains us. So true for books and stories, too. The vehicle is unimportant, as long as the experience is powerful and real.

I digressed again.

Let's wrap this up.

Don't suppress your feelings. Express them. Explore them. Write. Read. Draw. Sing. Do yoga. Whatever works for you. Just don't hold everything in and try to pretend the feelings don't exist. That way lies madness. 

[below, an image that isn't really relevant but I just like it. It's my grandfather as a young man, next to a dead gator.]

Celebrity Encounters

This is a blog post I've been wanting to write for a long time because I think it's fun to hear about what happens when a regular person meets or encounters a celebrity. I have encountered a few, but my friends and family members have even more stories. Some celebs are nice when approached by fans and some are not.

When you see those paparazzi shots of celebritiess out and about and they are slopping around in sweats and not wearing makeup I wonder if they think they are flying under the radar? Usually they are in for the rude shock of seeing their faces on the cover of the National Enquirer with some headline like SEE HOW FAT _____ IS NOW! or THE PLASTIC SURGERY GONE HORRIBLY WRONG FOR ______.

We lived in Augusta when I was little and James Brown was a customer of my dad's bank. James Brown lived in Augusta all his life. Dad was in the bank lobby one day and all the tellers were twittering, and Dad asked what was up and they said James Brown was in the bank. Dad had never heard his music. (Dad was a Frank Sinatra fan.) Dad introduced himself and shook his hand, and they chatted about bank accounts, most likely. When he got home that night and compared notes with Mom they both agreed they had never heard of James Brown. That was probably 1965-70, somewhere in there. Of course, when Dad told me the story I immediately knew who James Brown was and I was a little ticked that Dad hadn't gotten an autograph.

James now has his own statue in downtown Augusta:

Mom and Dad used to go to the Masters Tournament every year because it was in Augusta and they could always get badges and attend. One day Mom was standing there watching a golfer and she noticed a very short man in a trench coat who was wearing makeup - not something you saw men doing 40 years ago. She got a look at his face and realized it was the singer Perry Como. She sidled over and whispered to him "If you give me your autograph I won't tell anyone you're here or draw attention to you." She basically blackmailed him. He signed a program for my cousin who was a big fan and Mother kept quiet about his presence - and at that time he was a big star. She said he was a tiny guy - and at 5'4 Mom wasn't exactly tall.

When I was working at the Knoxville Journal one of the reporters was going to the Civic Auditorium to interview Dick Van Dyke, who was appearing in a play there, a touring company of Damn Yankees, I think. I wheedled the reporter into letting me tag along [I was just a lowly clerk] and I got to meet him and listen to the interview. He was SO NICE. Just a lovely, warm guy. Very skinny. I mean, REALLY skinny.

Years ago I went to a lecture given by Diana Gabaldon, the author of the Outlander books. She was really great. Fascinating stories about writing her books. After her speech there was a luncheon, and I chatted with her when we were both in line for the bathroom. She's a tiny lady, very pretty, funny.

Do you remember Joan Van Ark?? She was big in the 80's, on Knot's Landing. I saw her around 1986 when the Miss USA pageant was filmed in Knoxville. A friend got tickets and we went to sit in the audience. I saw Joan outside the auditorium and she looked like a skeleton. I've never seen someone so thin who wasn't in a hospital bed. When she smiled it looked like a death's head grimace. Yikes.

My BFF Lesleigh is working at a Fresh Market in Buckhead right now and not long ago she noticed that Kevin Hart was coming in and shopping a lot. He was filming a movie here in Atlanta at the time. Les said nobody bothered him and he was very quiet, had no entourage, just did his shopping. He was very polite to everyone in the store - the employees who helped him.

My friend Judy, who lives in Los Angeles, takes her kids to the same dentist where Adam Sandler takes his children. They ran into Adam one day and he was super nice, chatting and joking with Judy's daughters.

 

My friend Jim met Ben Affleck in an airport in Bulgaria and they chatted for a long time. He said Ben was really personable and nice.

 

I asked friends on Facebook to share some celebrity encounter stories and here are their contributions:

Jeff: "I met Tom Wopat and Cylk Cozart. Both were very nice."

From my friend Robin, who is an advocate for folks who have physical or mobility challenges - and who travels all over the country: "I met Kareem Abdul Jabbar recently at O'Hare. Had a young woman with me, wheelchair user, who was a WC basketball player and Big Fan. She approached him and spoke. Asked for a picture with him. He never broke a smile until the camera appeared, then a 10,000 watt smile came out for all of 10 seconds. Back to stone face and no replies. After she left, I approached him and said 'Thank you for the photo with Jill and being so nice". I was being a bit facetious since he had been such a mope. He looked at me like I was speaking Chinese and didn't even acknowledge I'd spoken. Jerk. He's off my list."

Mary: "I met Shamar Moore at a restaurant in downtown Atlanta. I just said hi and told him I thought he was a great actor and that I really loved Criminal Minds. He was a very nice guy about the whole thing."

John: "Years ago I was in New York City and I met Burgess Meredith, in a bar. He was quite drunk but we talked and joked around. He was really nice."

Pat: "My youngest daughter(Kristen) loved Javy Lopez. My middle daughter(Jill) was at a gymnastic meet and he and his wife was sitting behind her. Jill asked him if he would talk to her sister because she was in the hospital. ...he said of course. So he called Kristen and talked to her. She told him that she wasn't in the hospital and he laughed...he was a very good sport. Also, Jill got a picture of him talking on the phone to Kristen."

BA: "I "met" June Lockhart at Dulles airport years ago. We were on the tram that takes you from the terminals to luggage claim and she asked me if I knew where we needed to pick up our luggage. I started to explain how to get to baggage claim and she interrupted me with a scowl and "I know all that I just wanted to know the carousel number." um ok you could have asked that."

Charlie [my cousin who lived in New York years ago]: "In 2004, I was riding the subway and Philip Seymour Hoffman was talking to a guy across the car from him. The guy was carrying a guitar case and Philip chatted him up about his band. Seemed very down to earth & wanted to know all about the kind of music they played & the bars they were playing in."

 

    Charlie Story #2: "Another time, I was on a date at a restaurant near radio city music hall & Mila Kunis sat down next to us with a friend. Our appetizer     looked amazing so she asked us what it was."

    Charlie story #3: I was walking up third avenue one morning & saw Heather Graham walking towards me on her way to the Duane Reade. She was     surrounded by security & paparazzi. You couldn't get close to her, but she seemed to be handling it all in stride.

Brenda: "There used to be "stars"...you may recall. And we were taught not to start conversations with strangers. (That still sticks with me, but I do it anyway!) Anyhow, way back in the early '60's, I was at the airport in San Diego with a couple of friends meeting someone.....and there sat Efram Zimbalist, Jr.! WOW! Y'all remember him? Wasn't it 77 Sunset Strip? My bold friend chatted him up, and he was nice as could be..........but he was SHORT! I was so disillusioned!....sigh....."

Chuck: "The sportscaster Lindsey Nelson came into the store when I worked at Gray's TV & Appliance in Knoxville in the early 80s. I greeted him immediately. He was such a gentleman."

Nancy: "A friend and I used to have dinner at the Hyatt Hotel across from the Knoxville Civic Center before concerts we attended. We met several musicians, but one may be of interest to you. Ted Nugent. This was back in the 80's. We saw him in the lobby and approached for autographs. He looked like a rock cowboy, hat and all. He was really soft spoken and almost shy. He said, "How are you doing, girls", signed our papers and said something like hope you enjoy the show. Very low key, nothing like his stage persona."

Aurore: "I was leaving a work party, late at night, with a guy I worked with in downtown Chicago. We had to walk through a movie set to get to the train. My friend Mark took my camera and started taking photos of the movie set. They were filming Next of Kin with Patrick Swazye. He used up my film then walked into a store for a minute, just then Patrick Swayze walked my way (no one around on the dark street) and asked if I wanted a photo. I said no film. He asked if I wanted an autograph and I said no pen. He said OH Well and laughed. I think he thought I was an unprepared fan waiting for him. When Mark walked out of the store, I punched him in the arm, he said why did you do that...because you used up my film. Thank God for digital and iPhones."

Mary: "My favorite encounter happened when I worked part time in a moderately upscale gift shop We had been told by the owner to get license numbers for checks. One of the really popular St. Louis Blues hockey players came in with his son and bought a decorative plate for his wife. The older woman who worked with me, rang him out while I wrapped the plate. He wrote a check. His real name was on it, but the address was the arena where the Blues played. She asked for his license and he looked at her funny while saying it was from Canada. I told her to take the check. She insisted that she needed to see the license and he gave it to her. He was so nice and I was dying! When he left, I told her who he was and why the addresses did not match. He had more money than both of us would have in our lifetimes! She harumphed and said she could not be expected to know people from sports!"

My Take on Dallas

Sometimes I try to avoid the news, when it's painful.I noticed yesterday that there was a lot all over Facebook about the recent shootings.

My life is stressful enough right now. My son is no longer living here. I'm not going to discuss it publicly, because he has a right to his privacy. It's a very stressful situation though. He has a lot of maturing to do.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about the situation in this country right now with the tragic killings in Dallas and the killings of the two black men last week. We could both agree that there is a sense of hopelessness in America and that something has to be done.

My friend is at the opposite end of the political spectrum from me, but there are things we CAN agree on. I try to focus on the areas of agreement, not disagreement. I don't like getting into shouting matches with people.

I will admit my opinions cannot be unbiased. My brother works for a company that sells equipment to police departments all over South Carolina. He has many friends who are policemen and policewomen. I have a first cousin whose son is a police detective. I have a friend who is a retired police chief.

Does that mean I think it's okay for police officers to abuse their power and target folks due to race, or for any other reason? Of course not. That needs to STOP. I am horrified to see innocent people gunned down by police officers - or anyone else, for that matter. ALL lives matter.

However, the disrespect of police officers also needs to stop. Violence against police officers needs to stop. Parents need to teach their children not to argue with police officers. Police officers are doing a dangerous, often thankless job, and are under terrible stress.

We also need to stop blaming guns. A gun harms nobody. Mental illness is the root cause of all these shootings. Why isn't the president calling for an end to the way we treat mental illness? Why isn't anyone focusing on the REAL CAUSE of these killings?!?

When I was a kid there were no mass shootings. Mentally ill people were usually locked up in metal hospitals. There was a lot of abuse in those places and some were horrific. I don't want a return to that. However, we need better ways to help people get treatment and we NEED facilities where people can be held so they cannot hurt anyone.

Crazy people DO NOT CARE about gun laws. The answer is not more gun laws. The answer is better mental healthcare. Gun laws in Chicago are very strict AND the murder rate is very high. Why doesn't anyone call for more mental health facilities to be built?

I also think the best way to stop a bad guy with a gun is to send in a good guy with a gun.

If ONE armed guard had been in that nightclub in Orlando recently, there would not be fifty grieving families.

I'm getting off my soapbox now...

Update

Hibernation. One usually thinks of that word and thinks winter, snow, bear in a cave, etc. Not me. I think July and August.

In Atlanta, summer means hibernation, to me. I try not to leave the house between noon and 7 or 8 at night. When it's 95 degrees and the humidity is high, I become a sweat-drenched mess. It's not pretty. I try to walk Lola and water the garden and do anything else outside before 10 a.m.

Today's big activity is taking Lola to the vet for a bath and toenail clipping.

Yesterday's big activity was a visit to the cardiologist. They checked my pacemaker and it was fine. No issues. The doctor was congratulatory. My weight was down a bit and blood pressure was fine. No issues.

I had a good birthday, but very quiet. Bruce was here, and we had a good visit. My cousin Lesleigh came over for dinner Sunday night. Bruce brought me lobster and shrimp, so it was a feast.

My gardens have not fared well this year. The yellow leaf issue continues. I've lost several tomato plants and all my zucchini and cucumber plants. The tomatoes are flourishing, and I have one eggplant that's got blooms on it. Next year I need to figure out why this keeps happening. I compost in the gardens all winter. I know the soil is rich.

I am absolutely sick to death of hearing about the presidential election. SICK OF IT. I watch the news every day but I've gotten where I mute it when the candidates are discussed. I will vote in the fall, but grudgingly. The candidate I really liked dropped out of the race. That's all I have to say about THAT.

I am reading a series of books I really enjoy, by Monique Martin. Here's an explanation, from the website: "Romance, adventure, mystery and time travel. Professor Simon Cross and his assistant Elizabeth West unwittingly discover a time travel device and the mysterious Council for Temporal Studies. Their adventures back in time put their wills and intellects to the test as they solve mysteries, prevent murder and perhaps even save the world."

I highly recommend the books. They aren't great literature but they are entertaining.

That's all that's going on in my world. Later y'all.

Going Fast or Slowing Down

You remember Hot Wheels? My brother got Hot Wheels when I was about 5 or 6 and I was SO jealous. I wanted my own Hot Wheels. I wanted to make the cars do loop-de-loops. That image is the perfect metaphor for how my mind works. I am always thinking ahead, always plotting and planning and trying to be super prepared.

I suppose that's an inevitable result of getting my master's degree while working 30 hours a week for several years - there really weren't enough hours in the day, so every hour had to do my bidding and be productive. My social life suffered but I stayed out of trouble.

My parents have always laughingly said my motto as a child was "I'd RATHER do it MYSELF." I preferred to be independent and competent.

I didn't look like I was all that swift.

The image below is me after Mom dressed me up and combed my hair. More typically, I looked homeless. I rarely wore shoes, except to school and church. I liked to wear my brother's old clothes, or Dad's old undershirts. I was simply too preoccupied with playing and planning to worry about appearances.

I am still pretty much that way.

I realized yesterday that I went to the store and completely forgot to wear a bra. There was a lot on my mind. Fortunately, I didn't see anyone I knew. I was in and out in 5 minutes.

I was reading my friend Sarah's blog and she linked to this article. It stopped me in my tracks. The beautiful simplicity of it floors me.

I need to concentrate more on just DOING whatever task I'm doing, and stop trying to multitask. I'm better if I focus on one thing at a time.

This Monday is my 54th birthday. Not happy or excited about it; just resigned. Birthdays stopped being exciting years ago. They are just markers that another year has passed.

My resolution is to stop being in a tizzy and to start being more deliberate. It will take some work. I'm not built for quiet zen-like reflection.

Then again, I want to prove that an old dog CAN learn new tricks...